Michael Jackson Imagines

YOU'RE LATE!(part 2)

You ran as fast as you could to your car, hearing your phone rapidly go off while running to it.

You began panting as you sat down in the driver's seat slamming your back against it, sweating.

'Next time I'm gonna park close to the building.' You thought to yourself while replaying the image of yourself running 6 miles to your black BMW.

You shook the thought off and shrugged your shoulders. You rolled your eyes and groaned hearing your phone go off for the 79th time.

You turned it on and your heart nearly dropped when you saw that the number of messages Michael had sent you increased.
293 messages.

Silently, you began reading the messages to yourself, one by one.

'Y/N, baby, where are you? I'm so worried about you! Please come home!!'

'Please come home Y/N! I miss you so damn much!! ):'

You then gulped at the messages that were capitalized.

"Michael is going to KILL me for being out late at 3am like this!!" You sighed deeply, not even bothering to read the rest of them.

Time skip.

When you got home, you parked in the front of Neverland.

Very tired, you pushed yourself out of your car and crawled to the front door. Luckily, it was unlocked.

You reached up for the doorknob and twisted it. You smiled seeing the familiar marble wood floor as you crawled in. You shut the door with your foot and stood up, kicking your Louboutin red bottoms off while throwing your purse off to the side, it landing on the couch.

Suddenly, the sound of someone clearing their throat startles you. You don't even bother to look up because you knew who it was, of course.

Michael slowly swallowed saliva and looked you straight into your eyes.

"So, who's the tinydick bastard you fucked?"

~To be continued~

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