Welcome to Michael Jackson Imagines Vol. 2!
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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Awards:
Finalist for the Best Imagines Collect...
An: I am so sorry for posting late. The writer's block got to me last minute. Michael is famous in this but I made it like he's "Keanu Reeves Famous".
~ Thanksgiving ~ ~*~*~
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"Michael! We're going to be late!" I yell upstairs for my boyfriend.
Michael gallops down the steps, putting on his leather jacket over a white polo shirt. He walks in front of me, quickly grabbing the keys and spinning around to look at me.
"Let's go." He turns around and quickly opens the front door.
I sigh and jog out of the house, "What took you so long?"
He closes the door behind me, locking it, "I had work today, remember? I had to call out." I squint my eyes at him, crossing my arms, "And you decide to tell me this now?"
He turned towards me, "I forgot to, baby." He leans closer to me, pressing his lips on my cheek, "Don't be mad."
"I'm already pissed that we're late to your family's Thanksgiving."
This was my second Thanksgiving with his family; can't believe a year has passed since then.
I start to walk towards the car as Michael sighs. "We'll just be fashionably late."
~~*~*~~
"Yn took forever in the shower." Michael lied to his mother and I quickly hit his shoulder with my hand. Michael laughs. His mother chuckles, seeing my reaction once he said that.
"He had to call out of work," I told her the truth since Michael couldn't.
Mrs. Jackson smiled, "It's fine, go relax in the living room with everyone else."
I insisted to help her in the kitchen, "Are you sure you don't need any help in the kitchen?"
"Thank you but no. The food is almost finished."
Michael smiled, he loved his mother's cooking. "Ring the bell when it's time to eat." Michael pats his stomach then walks to the living room when everyone else was.
I roll my eyes, then continue to insist to help. "Are you sure you don't want any more help?"
Mrs. Jackson wouldn't accept, "Yn, you're a kind girl, but I'm fine here. I just have to finish the turkey."
I nod, "Okay." She smiles then walks into the kitchen, going to the oven.
I turn around, walking into the living room, and seeing my boyfriend talking to his third older brother.
