Imagines of you and Michael Jackson.
Some smut and mature content included throughout (I will write on chapter titles which ones contain smut).
Made with L.O.V.E with no disrespect to Michael, his family or associates.
All content is mine and I hope...
Phew this is a long one! Be patient with it, it takes a while to get into it. Contains smut- don't read if you feel uncomfortable. Thank you for reading and supporting me guys! - love the author 💕
You were in a meeting with Michael for his new album Thriller and specifically the music video for Billie jean. Steve Barron was nodding kindly as Michael explained his ideas for a choreographed scene with mannequins from the shop behind him. Looking between the two, you noticed the other people writing notes within the room and nodding eagerly. Michael seemed excited about this new venture and you could already tell it was going to turn out well for him. Just as you were thinking that, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach,as though someone had ripped your insides out as you inhaled quickly, seeing Michael glance at you whilst he hummed his agreement to what Steve was saying.
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(*His jawline can cut me and I wouldn't care)
Behind his black glasses you knew his eyebrows would be furrowed in worry and he licked his dark lips, trying to focus on what Steve was saying although he continued to shoot quick glances your way. His warm hand snaked onto your thigh underneath the table and he softly rubbed your thigh through your jeans, knowing something was wrong although you squeezed his hand quickly as if to say 'I'm fine.'
Your stomach continued to twist and tighten as the room turned hotter by the second and you tried to loosen your neckscarf without being obvious, but of course Michael noticed. He slid his glass of water discretely in front of you and you accepted gladly, the ice coldness helping a little. Tears were beginning to sting in your eyes though you didn't want to distract the meeting. A representative for the company chimed in. "The budget won't stretch to choreographers, rehearsals, dancers etc, it's too unrealistic. The budget is final." The man with white hair and a stern face pursed his lips tightly as your heart beat increased and breathing became shallow as you felt a wet sensation hit your underwear.
Usually Michael would have been annoyed at their attempts to sabotage his creative freedom, but he was aware of how unwell you were feeling. He softly cleared his throat, grabbing everyone's attention as your palms become sweaty. "I am sorry but we have somewhere be. You know how it is. Can we reschedule for Thursday?" He asked softly as members around the room nodded in agreement.
Michael stood up, adjusting his jacket and tucked his jherri curls behind his ear, muttering his thanks to everyone and shaking their hands. You simply nodded small at everyone, avoiding touching them and letting on how unwell you were feeling. Michael's big hand rested on the small of your back as he guided you out of the room, holding the door open for you like the gentleman he is.
As soon as the door was closed and you had both walked from the studio and into the dark, empty front room of the building, Michael whipped his glasses off to reveal his concerned brown eyes that were flickering all over your body. "God Y/N, why didn't you say something? You really don't feel well, do you?"he mumbled softly as you shook your head, letting the tears spill as he gently undid the neckscarf completely from your neck and shoved it into his deep pocket quickly. He tenderly touched your forehead with the back of his caramel toned hand, wincing as he felt your temperature. "Come on, lets go home girl." He delicately wipes your tears away with his thumb, walking you both to the car that was waiting.
