Req: HIllI I love your stories so so so soooo much!! I think they're just so cute!!!! I was wondering if you could make one that's similar to the one where mj gets jealous over the reader being on the phone, I thought that was so funny and adorable😭😭
I NEED JEALOUS MICHAEL INJECTED INTO MY VEINS🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
A/N: Thank you for your kind words and don’t worry twin me too, I love jealous mj.
ThrillerEra!Michael Jackson x Reader
warnings: Michael being jealous, possessive, idk what else.
summary: reader has to leave for a date and Michael isn’t having it.
Michael was sitting upright against his massive, wooden headboard, and legs stretched out. A yellow, small notepad laying on his leg, twirling a pen as he wrote and scribbled every few seconds.
You were sitting crossed legged on the foot of the bed, your eyes glancing towards the ticking clock, counting down every minute with nervousness. Your fingers tracing the stitch on your pants absentmindedly as you talked with Michael. You side eyed the clock again.
A quiet sigh escaping your lips. You and Michael had been best friends for years, you slept in his t shirts, watched old films together, organised days out, he even ended up sneaking through your bedroom window one day because he missed you.
But the intimacy between you had grown thick, it was suffocating. You were entirely, helplessly in love with him. It has been that way for days, months, years, and nothing ever changes. He never made a single move to claim you.
You had finally reached a breaking point.
You were fed up searching for signals and signs that one day he might make a commitment, one day he’ll eventually bridge the gap between best friends and dating. But he never did. Defeated by the agonizing silence and convinced that he only saw you as a permanent fixture in his life. Deciding you need to move on, you had done the unimaginable; you had agreed to go on a date.
It was a date with a kind, average guy you met from a local library named Thomas. The date was scheduled for 6pm. You needed to leave, even though you didn’t want to.
“Hey,” Michael’s soft voice broke through your thoughts, melting over you like warm honey. “You went quiet on me. What do you think of putting Human nature right after Billie Jean?”
“Um, yeah,” you murmured, blinking out of your daze. “I think that transition is perfect, Mike.”
Your eyes instinctively made their way to the clock. 4:51PM.
Panic suddenly flared in your stomach. Your apartment was a fifteen minute drive away, you still needed to shower, do your hair, put on the dress you had spent hours picking out. With a racing heart you slowly slid off the edge of the bed, your feet hitting the floor.
Michael stopped twirling his pen. His large eyes snapping towards your movement.
“Where are you going?” he asked, his brow furrowing into a curious line.
“I have to get going, Michael,” you said. You hardly ever left Michael’s house early, but tonight was obviously different. You reached for your purse on the arm chair. You kept your back turned to him. If you looked at his large eyes now, you’d end up forgetting every reason you had for leaving. “It’s almost five.”
Michael didn’t move for a second, his brain trying to process the words you were saying. “Right. It’s five. My mother usually has dinner ready by six thirty, you have plenty of time to wash up before we go down.”
“No, Mike.” you breathed, finally turning to face him. Your fingers fidgeting with the strap of your purse. “I mean… I have to leave. I’m going back to my apartment tonight.”
Michael’s small note pad slid to the side, entirely forgotten. He sat up straighter, his body becoming slightly rigid. His features showed signs of confusion.
“Your apartment?” he echoed, the words sounding foreign on his tongue. He blinked at you, his chest falling in quick shallow breaths. “But you’re staying here tonight? It’s Friday. We have a whole lineup of cheesy 1960s horror movies to watch.”
“I can’t tonight,” you whispered, looking down at the carpet feeling guilty. “I have to be somewhere.”
“Somewhere? Where?” Michael asked in an instant.
He didn’t wait for an answer. Within a fraction of a second he slid off the bed, his movement hurried. He crossed the room until he was standing directly in front of you. His hand reached for yours, catching the back of your hand, fingers absentmindedly tracing the lines of your palm. He didn’t want you to leave.
“Tell me where you have to go,” he demanded softly, his body vibrating with restless energy. His large brown eyes tracing your features, like he could find the answers there. “You didn’t mention any errands. Why are you abandoning me?” He said dramatically.
“Michael, please,” you scoffed, slightly nervous under the weight of his undivided attention. Your breath catching in your throat as his cologne enveloped you completely. “It’s just… I have plans. I need to go get ready or I’ll be late.”
“Ready for what? Plans with who?” Michael pressed instantly, his grip tightening just a fraction. He stepped closer, his face closer now. His mind desperate to come up with a conclusion. “Is it one of your friends? Did someone call your apartment? Tell me, please? Why can’t I come with you?”
“Because you can’t.” you lifted your eyes, finally meeting his, heart hammering violently against your ribs. “I’m going on a date, Michael.”
The silence that came after was heavy, a completely suffocating weight.
Michael froze, his entire body went still. His lips parted slightly as his brain scrambled to process the words. A scowl instantly settled onto his features, pouting his lips.
“A date?” Michael whispered. He stared at you as if you had just struck him, all the blood draining from his face. “With who? What do you mean, a date?”
“With Thomas,” you murmured. “I met him at the local library. He asked me out a few days ago, and I said yes. It’s at six, and I need to go home to get ready.”
“No.” Michael said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “No, absolutely not.”
“Michael, I have to!” you laughed gently, your heart doing a wild, dangerous flip at how bothered he looked. “He’s picking me up in an hour. I can’t just stand him up.”
“Yes, you can,” he insisted, his words tumbling in a breathless rush. “Call him. Tell him you’ve caught a sudden, very serious illness.”
“Why do you care so much?” you asked, a sudden spark of bold amusement taking over. “You can’t just hoard me to yourself forever, Mike.”
“Watch me.” He countered, his eyes softening as he reached out and gently took your purse right out of your hand, tossing it onto the arm chair behind you. He caught both of your hands before you could turn to grab your purse.
“Do you really want to go sit across from library Thomas and talk about super boring stuff, or do you want to stay here, eat whatever snacks you want and even have me cater to your every whim?”
You raised an eyebrow. Biting down on your lip to prevent the grin breaking across your face. “My every whim?”
Michael nodded. “Just don’t go hang out with some guy who doesn’t even know what your favourite film is.”
Your heart swelled, the heavy weight of doubt you’d been carrying for months suddenly evaporating into thin air. He didn’t just want a best friend, or a permanent fixture, he wanted you. And it felt so obvious to you now.
“You’re being incredibly unfair right now,” you breathed looking up at him.
“I am desperate,” he admitted. “Please stay?”
You let out a dramatic sigh, Michael instantly smiled. He knew what your dramatic sigh meant. “Fine. I’m staying.”
“Okay!” Michael said eagerly. “Oh right but you should probably call him.”
You were now sitting on the edge of his bed, nervously dialing the number. The second Thomas picked up with a polite, “hello this is Thomas,” Michael didn’t even give you an inch of space. His head right next to yours, eavesdropping the conversation. You side eyed him as you rolled your eyes.
“Hi Thomas,” you were on the verge of pushing Michael off the bed. “I really can’t make it tonight. Something came up.”
Before you could even hear his response, Michael gave an evil, proud smirk before leaning right in, “she’s staying here with me. We have to watch an old movie. Bye!”
“Michael! Stop it!” you squeaked, gasping in utter horror and embarrassment. You quickly smacked a hand over his mouth, trying to push his giggling face away. You slammed the receiver back onto the hook and hid your face. “I cannot believe you just did that!”
Michael burst out laughing, “he was asking for it.”
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