Welcome to Michael Jackson Imagines Vol. 3!
This is a book full of erotica and different AUs of Michael Jackson.
I hope you brought your holy beverage or food, you're probably gonna need A LOT.
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Yn and Michael approached the ticket counter with a mix of excitement and nerves, their footsteps quickening as they neared the booth. The smell of popcorn and the buzz of the crowd filled the air, heightening the sense of anticipation. The clerk behind the counter, a middle-aged man with a friendly demeanor, greeted them with a warm smile.
Yn stepped forward, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and thrill. "Two tickets for the horse race, please. We'd like to place a bet on Thunderstruck," she said, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of the adrenaline coursing through her veins. The clerk nodded, typing into the computer as he began processing their request.
Just then, Michael, dressed in his outrageous disguise-a fake mustache that was slightly crooked, a crisp white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black slacks that were just a bit too short, penny loafers, a brown sweater vest that screamed grandpa chic, and a flat cap perched jauntily on his head-leaned in closer. With exaggerated enthusiasm, he cleared his throat and, in an absurdly thick accent that sounded like a blend of a bad English aristocrat and a cartoonish Frenchman, said, "Ah, thank you ever so much, kind sir! Your service is most appreciated!"
The clerk raised an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by Michael's dramatic flair, but maintained his polite smile. "You're welcome. Enjoy the race!" he replied, handing over the tickets with a small chuckle under his breath.
As they walked away from the counter, tickets in hand, Yn couldn't hold back her laughter any longer. She burst out laughing, the sound bright and infectious. "Seriously, sir? That accent is something else!" she teased, nudging Michael playfully.
Michael adjusted his cap, his accent dropped, his grin wide and unrepentant, though a slight blush colored his cheeks. "Hey, come on! It's all part of the fun," he defended himself, his tone playful. "Gotta fake it until we make it, right? Besides, what's life without a little flair?"
Yn shook her head, still laughing. "Well, it definitely worked. You had him fooled-he probably thinks we're some eccentric rich couple looking for a thrill." She glanced down at the tickets, feeling a surge of excitement and a bit of apprehension. "Let's just hope Thunderstruck lives up to the hype, or we'll be the ones needing a thrill."
They made their way to the stands, the energy around them buzzing with excitement. Spectators filled the seats, eagerly discussing their bets and predicting the outcomes. Yn and Michael found their seats among a lively group, the chatter of the crowd making the atmosphere electric.
As they settled in, Yn couldn't help but admire Michael's dedication to his outfit. "You really went all out with this," she remarked, giving him an approving look. "The mustache is particularly convincing-if not a little lopsided."
