"It causes your immune system to turn against you," I explained gently. The color terrifyingly drained from his face as he stared at his knuckles. "I have a spot," he whispered, his voice scraping like glass. "Right here." He let out a strangled noise as the stadium footage buffered. "Riley!" he shrieked, covering his burning face while peering through his fingers at his future self. "Those pants leave absolutely nothing to the imagination!" He went so unnaturally still I thought his heart had stopped beating. His charcoal-stained fingers curled into tight fists. "Fifty," he whispered, scanning the fatal summary on the glowing screen. "I am... I am gone at fifty." What if the only way to save your future was to completely abandon your past? In 1982, Michael Jackson is suffocating. Trapped behind his family's compound gates and drowning under industry pressure, the rising star just wants a life of peace and normalcy. The universe answers-violently ripping him from his timeline and dropping him onto the bedroom rug of Riley, a freelance graphic designer in the year 2025. Stranded forty-three years in the future, Michael must face a world that already knows his tragic history. But Riley fiercely refuses to let that history repeat. She offers him the anonymous, ordinary life he always craved, rebuilding his shattered confidence brick by brick and teaching him the radical concept of self-love. More importantly, she arms him with the ultimate weapon: the brutal truth. She gives him the exact names of the snakes hiding in his 1982 backyard, the upcoming betrayals, and the devastating tragedies he is destined to face. When the universe inevitably pulls him back, Michael is no longer the timid pop star terrified of his shadow. He is a king preparing to claim his throne, knowing exactly how to rewrite music history and what it takes to survive. But armed with the future, changing his fate might cost him the one person who taught him how to live.

As a popular TikTok editor, Imani spends her nights splicing together edits of Michael Jackson. Until a trip to the local Value Village changes everything. Buried in a box, in the back of the store, Imani finds a dusty fortune-teller toy. As a joke, she makes a wish: "I want Michael here and I want him to love me."| Imani gets exactly what she asked for. Author's Note: A dark, psychological horror. Inspired by the movie 'Obsession'.

(This story is very cheesy) For Mature Audience. 1987 Calabasas, California She inhaled sharply, crossing her leg over the other. With a raise of her brows, she smiled. "Do you like bein' a bodyguard?" He glanced at her through the corner of his eye. His arms folded over his chest. "Yeah-It pays good." The back of his head was against the head of the couch. His dimpled chin was up in the air. Upward his lidded eyes drifted. "Do you like bein' a director's wife?" He mumbled, bringing his hand up. He brushed a few loose coils of hair away from his face. The floor shot into her view. A sharp exhale flew out of her mouth. "I-Uh-Nice-It's nice," she stammered. Her head nodded along to her words. "Nice?" Her brows shot up, she strained a grin. "Nice." Suddenly her lips were forced into a slight frown. A crease formed between her brows. She shook her head slightly. "I'm sorry. I'm not no good with words," she sighed. "No, I'm sorry I asked that. That was a real' stupid question." "It wasn't stupid. Nobody's ever asked me that before," she said through a forced laugh. 'Nice,' she repeated to herself. ⓒ 2025 All Rights Reserved