bedard truther.

anna, she/her, lover of dogs. writer. hockey lover. Black Lives Matter. one goal forever. Fuck ICE.

[equallyshaw]

im so glad you're here xx

hockey. ✧ other's. (coming soon) ✧ au's! ✧ dr. michael robnavitch masterlist. (the pitt!) ✧ Jay Halstead - chicago pd. ✧ michael jackson. ✧ jaafar jackson.

...

about me:

hi! my name is anna, my pronouns are she/her & and im a full throttle aquarius. ✧ fav teams: chi & col

- for sure an og from hockey tumblr back in the day (i feel old lol) - 25, feburary girlie - chicago gal - midwestern af. - deep dish pizza lover - lover of books & poetry - olivia rodrigo stan - in love w michael jackson obvs

✧ requests are always open!

anna xx

[equallyshaw]

hi lovies!!!

no new stories until i am recovering from a FULL knee replacement lmao...i have no time between finishing my internship for grad school this week, papers, presentations for school AND moving... and my knee is doing some freaky shit rn so im paranoid about that and ultimately, have no energy or motivation to write... soon!

xx anna (7.14.26 update)

[humannaturess]

Nugget texting "I miss you" to her uncles and her dad.

taglist: @ruesredjacket @4ppl3h34d @tinydreamerpillar @delictezz @heartsforamari19 @sugarrushbell @bangchanunofficial @swavydadon @nayykura @plan3tch1ld @unseenleylinesecret @niyahctrl @animegamerfox @raefoxiegirl @applehead-luvr @a-motherfcking-fish @michaelsgirlie @sebbysbaby @helalokithor @poetsprey @60fspp @kryka83 @ilov3tosle3p @bladeeisjesus @umibug @erynnnn @lauren7050 @onegoodperson @trvpstarxvl @futilenaner @alexablanc @superlegend216 @gravenoirr @heyitsm4di @heartstofiiveunknownn @soimightlikeoldmen69 @cherrishkissed @bambijackson @kisscoqueen @ghazalbambi @aristoleyaferrarii @michaeljacksonlover25 @solelypyt @no1sdolli3 @blameditontheboogie @spiderhook @ghazalbambi @jaafarl @li-da-savage @sturnioloslut101

if you want to be added or removed, let me know <3

[equallyshaw]

okay jermaine--INCLUDING JERMAINEEEEE

[equallyshaw]

i realized as my life is absolutely falling apart right now...i never previewed this...maybe tomorrow ill post the full thing...?

[equallyshaw]

trust you WILL be fed some SAD fics soon

[equallyshaw]

(i need to vent -- bare with me yall)

in two weeks, i get a full knee replacement at the age of 25. got it. lets full send it.

next week my family and i are moving for the first time in 11 years, days before my surgery. got it. lets go.

BUT OH WAIT --- the universe really said: lets end this chapter with a BANG this past weekend my home flooded.

for the first time in my life, our house has flooded so badly, that it is no longer inhabitable. we were out of power until yesterday morning. we went 36 - 38 hours WITHOUT power in 80 degree weather.

you wanna know what that does to a home?? creates mold. and a LOT of it.

therefore, two weeks before the biggest fucking moment of my chronic health issue life (and my parents because they're taking care of me & ending a BIG chapter in their child life lmao) -- i cant even prepare mentally BECAUSE i no longer have a home. thankgod i have sisters who allowed me to live with them until my parents figure out what the hell were gonna do before our move.

all the while im finishing up my MSW (master of social work) AND my 32 hour internship!!! because yes!! this is exactly how its supposed to go....

i feel so fucking hopeless right now. i feel helpless. (literally am cuz my family wont let me near that house lmao) feel exhausted thinking about having to move my room when i cant lift anything or twist or turn due to my hypermobility (hEDS) and being chronically weak and STILL recovering from my fuckas elbow surgery this past december -- where i ONLY just got done with physical therapy 3 weeks ago.

because yes/YES moving cant/CANT be that easy.

no ofcouse it couldn't. rant -- done. i just am so displaced right now and i dont feel comfortable in my surroundings.

i feel on edge. now even more terrified of fuckass storms. and i miss my cats because im not with my parents right now.

Anyway, hug your loved ones close. be extra thankful you have your home. it can change in a matter of hours.

[equallyshaw]

and you wanna know what this links back to??? who???

donald. fucking. trump. jesussss. meteorologists' positions have been gutted-- therefore no ONE can predict the weather accurately anymore!!!

why did i get different forecasts on 3 different apps/website all day --BOTH days. cuz make that make sense.

[equallyshaw]

(i need to vent -- bare with me yall)

in two weeks, i get a full knee replacement at the age of 25. got it. lets full send it.

next week my family and i are moving for the first time in 11 years, days before my surgery. got it. lets go.

BUT OH WAIT --- the universe really said: lets end this chapter with a BANG this past weekend my home flooded.

for the first time in my life, our house has flooded so badly, that it is no longer inhabitable. we were out of power until yesterday morning. we went 36 - 38 hours WITHOUT power in 80 degree weather.

you wanna know what that does to a home?? creates mold. and a LOT of it.

therefore, two weeks before the biggest fucking moment of my chronic health issue life (and my parents because they're taking care of me & ending a BIG chapter in their child life lmao) -- i cant even prepare mentally BECAUSE i no longer have a home. thankgod i have sisters who allowed me to live with them until my parents figure out what the hell were gonna do before our move.

all the while im finishing up my MSW (master of social work) AND my 32 hour internship!!! because yes!! this is exactly how its supposed to go....

i feel so fucking hopeless right now. i feel helpless. (literally am cuz my family wont let me near that house lmao) feel exhausted thinking about having to move my room when i cant lift anything or twist or turn due to my hypermobility (hEDS) and being chronically weak and STILL recovering from my fuckas elbow surgery this past december -- where i ONLY just got done with physical therapy 3 weeks ago.

because yes/YES moving cant/CANT be that easy.

no ofcouse it couldn't. rant -- done. i just am so displaced right now and i dont feel comfortable in my surroundings.

i feel on edge. now even more terrified of fuckass storms. and i miss my cats because im not with my parents right now.

Anyway, hug your loved ones close. be extra thankful you have your home. it can change in a matter of hours.

[equallyshaw]

i realized as my life is absolutely falling apart right now...i never previewed this...maybe tomorrow ill post the full thing...?

[equallyshaw]

before dawn. | thrad era! michael jackson x fem!reader.

ꕤ synospis: newly married couple, return home to Brentwood, los angeles after their european summer, wedding & honeymoon. as michael is deep into the making of his follow-up album to thriller, bad, michael receives a call from you, shaken and absolutely terrified of whoever had broken into the home you two shared. michael's own personal hell. & worst fear. ꕤ warnings: break in. violence. death threat. happy ending tho! ꕤ word count: 4.7k ꕤ masterlist.

2:32am.

that was on the clock when michael got the phone call from you, his wife. you two had just gotten back from the south of france, where you spent the better part of the month celebrating your honeymoon. as soon as you two arrived home, you went back to working as a teacher at a local preschool, hollywood school house, located in the heart of hollywood; as the new school year had just started. while you settled back into life, and work, as mrs.jackson - mrs.j ─ as your class called you, michael was getting back into the studio, recording his follow up album to thriller, entitled bad.

as you spent all the day at school, and then an hour after school with the local girl scouts troop, #454, michael spent time at the studio. as it neared dinner time, you two would either reunite at home, taking turns on who was cooking, or heading out to two personal staples ─ the polo lounge at the beverly hills hotel or chasen’s. then, after a few hours together, he'd help you tidy up, help you get ready for bed, kiss you one last time as you went to bed, and he went back to westlake studios.

you loved your husband. you adored him. you loved his passion, dedication, and the incredible hard work he was putting into his next record.

you and him made the schedule work, for the time being. which was a huge reason, why you spent the summer trapezing around europe before bidding each other i do, in Stockholm in late July, surrounded by your closest friends and family. before hopping over to southern france for a month, for your honeymoon.

tonight, though, was different.

after getting home from a troop meeting, you were greeted by an empty and silent home, in the community of brentwood.

which was located, on a good evening, 20 minutes away.

you had settled into the couch, catching up on the latest episode from season two of golden girls, with a takeout ramen and fried rice. after finishing off the rest of a slice of red velvet cake, you headed up the midcentury steps. taking your time to pull out the pins from your hair, and brushing through. your eyes softly hung open, as you inspected your still there ─ summer hew. making sure you didn't see any brown spots or sun spots, before softly grabbing the gold necklace michael had gifted you the night of your wedding.

he had had tiffany's make your birthstone and his, spinel, with a gold outline of small diamonds, surrounding the two gems. you smiled softly, thinking back to your wedding night.

the two of you out on the dance floor until around 1:30 am, underneath the bright sky, of midsummer. midsommar you had learned while traveling last summer with michael, that there are a few nights throughout the season of midsommar, where the night sky never fully turned dark.

you and him alone, dancing to frank sinatras, ive never been in love before, and, how deep is the ocean.

it was not long after that, when you two plopped onto the expensive sheets, when michael turned away from you, did he grab the small necklace box, the iconic blue box with white ribbon, and instead of laying back down - he sat up.

your eyebrows had creased, looking between him and the box, before sitting up yourself, your silk slip dress, strap falling down.

"mack..?," your voice trailed off sweetly and innocently.

the one nickname that had belonged to you and only you, in this universe.

michael's smiled fondly as you grabbed it from him. your hands softly but barely shook, as you hadn't ever received anything from tiffanys, nor had you certainly not brought anything from them.

your mouth fell open as you now looked at michael, and then back down at the birthstones.

you had always worn your tried and true necklace, of your birthstone, from your grandmother, for a decade plus. tears swelled in your eyes as you looked back to michael before your lip quivered.

it was something so small to cry about. but you had loved your stone, and had once spent one hour of a two hour date slot with michael, when he was touring, telling him all about his and yours. why its magical, spiritual, and personal to those who connect to them.

michael had ate it up.

he pulled it out of the box, before you turned away from him.

the gold necklace was cool against your warm, sun-loved skin.

you smiled down at it, pulling it between your thumb and index finger. "mack...," you said softly again as your turned towards him.

"honey bee...," you hummed before pulling him in for a kiss.

you smiled at yourself in the mirror, thinking of that night fondly before turning the bathroom light off and pulling back the light linen comforter.

you sighed, turning off the lamp next to your bed, a small light flickering on, a night light if you will. michael had put that in because you seemed to have to pee every two hours and had stubbed your toes and hit your shins, more times than he would have liked.

you had protested it and acted like a child, stating how embarrassing and pathetic it was for an adult to use it...he had high satisfaction when you grumbled one early morning about how it was useful the night before, and that maybe, just maybe it was beneficial. he had been smug behind his coffee mug.

you slid down the bed a bit, as you settled in for the night, and your eyes shut softly.

the bedroom window was open, screen locked, allowing in the animal sounds of the canyon behind your home. cicadas were humming, with the occasional sound of a small wild animal or howl were the only sounds heard for quite some time. the slight breeze of the santa monica mountains, lulled you to sleep.

─

2:32 am was on the clock at westlake studios. michaels eyes had begun to make things double, and the already dimmed lights were becoming too much.

he wanted to be home. sleeping. in bed. arms wrapped around you from behind.

quincy pressed play on the demo, and michael sighed, hearing the way you make me feel, for the umpteenth time that late night.

it was about 5 seconds in this time, when the phone rang, and quincy picked up.

his eyes widened, stilled. fear lacing them as he heard you on the phone.

quincys eyes found michaels and michael pulled the phone from him.

"michael?!" your worried tone, alerted michael immediately. his heart dropped.

why would you, of all people, be calling at 2:30 in the morning?

something was wrong. very wrong.

you had a class full of preschoolers at 9 am to be asleep for.

"honey?" michael questioned immediately. he had to be hearing things.

your voice shook, "michael, please come home, please! someone's broke into the house, i think- i think they're in the guest house right now...," your voice trailed off, and you jumped a bit.

you heard glass breaking downstairs. you knew your stained glass back door, which led into the kitchen, was broken through.

"where are you?" michael questioned as he stood up and snapped for bill to get the car ready. bill understood, running out of the studio.

"baby?" michaels voice was soft, but anxious. his voice broke as he waited on pins n needles for your response.

you had been listening through the walk-in closet door before shuffling backward toward the enclosed section where your formal gowns and custom suits hung. hidden behind a sliding door, it sat just deep enough inside the closet to conceal you from anyone taking only a quick glance.

quincy moved, calling 911 on the other phone.

"theyre in the house mack..." you covered your mouth trying to lessen the sound of your breath.

michael heard it, his heart dropping.

"stay there, were on our way. the police are coming." he said as quincy said it loud enough for him to hear.

you nodded, your eyes filling with tears.

michael began again, "i lo-," the line went dead.

your head snapped to the phone, as the corded phone ceased to work.

your lips quivered, your tears flling more now and your body shook from the silent sobs.

whoever had broken in, had cut the chord.

meaning whoever had done it, was closer than you thought.

you gulped. freezing. your ears heard footsteps on the wooden floor of your bedroom.

this is it. this is where i die, you thought. there's no way im surviving whatever they want.

you grabbed in one hand, one of michaels awards.

pathetic.

but the award was made of metal, and could ultimately be used as a weapon.

you had brought it into the bedroom, the night before, as you two talked about where it would end up.

option a, had been at the studio. b, in the office at the house. or c, with his mother, Katherine.

but now, it was being used for option d: attempt to hit hard enough, to survive long enough, until he police arrived.

the closet door opened, and you said a small prayer to whoever was up there.

god. relatives. spirirtual team. guides. anyone who could give a damn.

the intruder stepped into the closet. furthest from them on the left, stood a white vanity, with designer perfumes and makeup. a pink plush chair sat beneath it, with a silk robe hanging off the side of it. in the middle was a grand dresser with 6 drawers on either side. in the middle? jewelry. a midsize collection, that you had argued with michael about months ago.

you thought it should be kept in a safe, or in a trust, taken out from time to time.

michael had waved it off.

you had known better though.

another intruder stepped in, quickly beginning to seize the jewelry.

"she has to be here...we watched her come in." one of them spoke.

they had been watching you, you realized.

dread washed over you.

another pair of feet traveled in.

with another bang downstairs as more glass breaking.

"search the other side." one of them ordered as footsteps now traveled towards you.

the sliding door, opened, revealing designer dresses. floor length through mini. custom suit sets that matched michaels.

you frowned as your hand tightened around the award.

they flicked through the clothes before you stood up, and swung.

the tall man stumbled back as he grabbed the side of his head, another intruder stepping now, up to the dresses and when you went to go swing, they grabbed you instead.

pulling you out, as you thrashed, pushed, and screamed.

"NO!" your voice coming out strangled, but piercing.

you continued thrashing against the mans arms. he pulled you against him, his hands and arm snaking their way around your waist and right beneath your collarbones.

"youre gonna be quiet and sit pretty, or you're husband is going to come home to a quite gruesome scene..." the man trailed off, threatening you.

your blood ran cold, as a shiver ran down your back.

if only, the universe was on your side tonight -- would michael see you alive and safe.

you let out a whimper as more tears poured out.

─

across the town, michael and bill were inching close and closer, painfully.

each moment felt like hours, as bill raced through those streets with a police escort.

each moment was agonizing. antagonizing. terrifying.

michael had no idea whether he'd arrive home with the police outside, you wrapped in a blanket, safe and sound. or if he would be arriving to a crime scene.

a dead on arrival.

michael bit the inside of his cheek as he ran his hands through his curls, pulling at them, as bill tried to keep him steady.

he was failing, miserable.

if there was truly a god out there, michael thought, his wife would be alive by the time he arrived.

─

you stared down the other man, who you had hit, who was currently crying out at the pain.

"shut up!" the leader screamed as the four of them heard the police sirens in the near distance.

maybe 4 minutes out, you surmised.

you and michael lived ontop of the canyon, away and secluded from the rest of the mountain dwellers.

which on a good day, was a beautiful thing.

it afforded you two privacy, and intimiacy.

but now? gods cruelest punishment.

the twists and turns, winding streets -- uphill was a curse at this very moment.

"we leave now, get away before the police get us!" they explained.

the one that was holding you, tightened their grip on you, and more tears rolled out as you silently sobbed.

"the girl comes with us, theres no way-," the one holding you was cut off, "well no shit sherlock." the leader responded, mocking him.

the three men and you, made their way downstairs.

the midcentury stairs creaking beneath you.

your white silk slip dress, light enough, that the chill in the air was a bit much.

you shuddered a bit at now remembering what you were wearing.

damnit, you thought.

you began to fear the absolute worst if they were able to escape with you.

your eyes circled the living room beneath the steps.

vases. picture frames. fresh flowers.

broken.

you saw the backdoor, shattered.

the stained glass prickled the wood floor beneath it.

police sirens rang closer.

a minute out, you surmised.

the man holding you, you could feel, was getting nervous.

you could tell with the way his grip loosened just a bit, and the tension in his hands.

"move." he muttered to you as they began to make their way out the front door.

you took one last look at the last remaining photograph, still standing.

you and michael, your first date at spago on sunset blvd. 1983. almost 3 years ago now.

your eyes wept, seeing the photograph still standing.

and the smiles on your face, that you remember tito taking, quite vividly.

he was smitten with himself, he'd gotten proof, that michael jackson could in fact be happy.

you let out a small sob, as you stepped outside on the brick walkway, lining the front grass.

"move it!" the leader yelled as the police sirens were now on the block.

"run!" the leader screamed, and the man holding you, continued with their hold on you, as the two of you made your descent towards the canyon behind you.

"no! let me go -- please!" you begged ─ pleaded, as he pulled you along.

it was all a blur.

it was commotion.

yelling.

screaming.

blinding lights.

you had somehow gotten free from the man's hold and stumbled down the sloped backyard. heart pounding. the landscaping gradually gave way to the canyon below, each tier lined with flower beds, shrubs, and native greenery. near the edge of one terrace sat several oversized stone planters waiting to be planted. you squeezed yourself behind them, curling into the narrow space between the pots and the retaining wall.

you pulled your knees to you chest, whimpering softly, trying your best to cover and protect yourself.

it was a blur for michael as well.

who only arrived at the scene two minutes after the police and ambulance had.

bill tried desperately hard to pull him back, but he ran.

the police had no idea, where you were.

oh, he ran.

the police had gotten the intruders pinned down or in cuffs, as michael searched around in the house.

he screamed your name, his head whipping and circling around.

desperately, trying to find you. and failing.

he screamed your name, as hit feet hit the patio beneath the broken stained glass door.

"honeybee!" he yelled, head whipping around.

his heart plummeted more and more, with no sign from you.

he screamed your name once more as bill stepped out of the house.

michael looked at a loss of words, exasperated and beyond exhausted.

michaels head turned slowly, agonizingly slow, as he looked out at the canyon beneath him.

then up at the mountains.

he visibly winced at the thought of you running through the canyon with mountain lions, cacti, coyotes and rattlesnakes.

you were though, a native of the los angeles desert.

he knew that if anyone had to forge through these mountains and keep themselves alive for the night, you would be the one.

but he didn't want to believe it.

he couldn't.

the thought of you having to keep yourself alive, lost, in the mountains was something he didn't want to come true.

michaels feet took off anyways.

he began his descent towards the canyon below the house and the mountains above.

bill screamed after him.

he was a mad man.

an absolute fool, to think about going into the mountains alone. at night.

again, alone.

your chin was firmly tucked against your chest, as you rocked yourself back n fourth, on the soil filled sand, desert floor beneath you.

you and michael had yet to finish the backyard. more importantly, these very terraced flower and natural greenery beds.

and the reality of that, was painfully more noticeable tonight.

you heard footsteps coming closer and the sound of bill, filling the lower part of your backyard, near you.

your name was screamed.

that voice.

no, that tone was one you had never heard before.

nor, was the sound that came out of your husband one you hadn't heart before.

"honeybee!" he screamed, and your head finally perked up to the sound.

you saw a faint shadow before you, maybe half a mile, getting further and further from you.

your eyes widened.

no.

michael had thought you'd run into the mountains.

sure, you could be dumb, but you weren't that dumb.

yeah....you had graduated from girl scouts at the age of 16 after completing the program ─ but that doesn't mean you'd run into the mountains with your head cut off.

you had to get to him.

"honey..," your already soft voice gave out.

your throat was scratchy and hoarse from screaming before.

"michael!" you called out, quickly getting to your feet and beginning to run.

"michael!" you now screamed, your voice traveling through the santa monica canyon.

"michael!" you screamed again, tears streaming down your cheeks.

michael continued running.

bill stopped where he was, in the backyard, as he saw a figure run out before him.

you.

you screamed his name once more, your voice giving out completely now.

michael froze.

his mind had to be playing tricks on him.

there was no way your voice was traveling from behind him.

no, you had to be in the mountains.

had to be.

"honey-," your voice gave out again, your shout breaking halfway through.

michaels head whipped as he froze, and without a second to think, he ran.

he ran towards you with speed, bill had never seen before.

you two were running towards eachother.

tears were streaming out of you, just like michaels.

he called out your name once more.

you slowed up when you two were only a few feet apart, and without much delay ─ michael grabbed you.

he pulled you, so tightly that his arms felt like they were suffocating you.

he pulled you in before pulling back to inspect you and make sure you weren't hurt or bleeding.

you had dirt on your dress, as well as your cheek. your hair was disheveled. one strap was broken.

"honeybee, my love..." his voice trailed away softly as he pulled you back in.

he let out a choked sob, holding you.

his peace. his person. his wife.

the thought of seeing a sunrise through, without you seemed entirely unthinkable. criminal. unbearable.

his mind didnt trail off, as he felt your skin beneath him, grounding him into place.

your flesh and blood, albeit cold and quite shaken, was alive.

the worst thought that he had had, on the way here, wasn't coming true.

and he would do everything in his power to make sure that it, would never come true.

he lowered you two to the grass beneath you two, his legs spread out as you curled into him.

you sobbed into your husband's chest, and the weight of the night fell upon you.

the adrenaline you had had for more than half an hour now, and the heartbeat you had heard in your temple, wavered and broke completely

you felt lifeless in your husband's arms.

your body became slack.

your breathing and pulse slowed.

michael pulled his head back a little bit, to make sure you were ok, as your sobs lessened and you became still.

"honey...?" he questioned softly, and you let out a small, mmm.

he pulled your cheeks in his hands, your eyes pouring into one another.

he searched your soft and exhausted eyes, closely.

he saw movement behind you, in his peripheral vision.

he said your name softly, and you nodded, his name rolling off his tongue like a question.

"im okay..i promise." you slurred, your eyes shutting softly.

your breath became shallow just before your head rolled back, unconsciously.

michaels eyes widened, screaming your name now, as the paramedics lowered you onto your back.

─

the clock read 5:04 am.

your head pounded as you awoke; the plush sheets beneath you were soft on your skin.

your hand reached out, searching for something to cling to before you opened your eyes.

sunlight softly peaked through the white curtains next to you, on your right.

you were certaintly not in your home. nor, were you in the hospital.

you were at the Franks', next door. a young couple like yourselves, who were pregnant with their first child. natasha, who had taken you under her wing the moment you and michael had moved in next door, almost a year ago now.

the two of them had become two of your guys' closest confidants in the city. opening up their home for normalcy, warmth, and privacy.

you and the wife had bonded over the fact that you both were caregivers, you as a preschool teacher starting off the next generation's educational journey, and she, a professional nanny & house manager, which is how she had met her husband.

you were in one of the guestrooms, you and michael had flocked to, during some home renovations and nights where you drank too much, to even think about stumbling back home, damn near, less than 20 feet from their back door to yours.

you sat up now, pulling the light comforter back and standing up. you stretched a bit before taking the soft robe from the edge of the bed and throwing it on. you hadn't realized that you now wore a new and clean pajamas.

a cotton long sleeve and pants.

then without a second thought, you turned towards the mirror on the wall above the vanity.

michael sat outside the door, drinking a fresh cup of coffee, that marcus had just brought up, when he heard footsteps and a soft gasp.

then a whimper.

when everything had flashed back, for you.

he quickly moved towards you, opening the door quickly but not too quickly. attempting to not scare you.

your husbands eyes found yours as tears threatened to fall.

your name on his breath, as he pulled you into his chest, moving the two of you quickly towards the bed.

you curled into him, soft sobs stripped from you.

the night continued to flash through your mind, ceasing to pause, only when you reopened your eyes.

michaels eyes traced your face, the way your lips parted, quivering, and the bruising that lined your cheekbone on one side and another on your temple on the other side.

your eyes drenched with tears, as you tried to control your breath.

michael helped you mimic his, trying to ground you back to reality.

you were not inside the bedroom you two shared. you were not in the living room, seeing the picture from spago, before you were pulled outside. and you were most certainly not looking out at the canyon and mountains beyond, figuring out where to hide.

you were here. with your husband. safe. held. and protected.

"mack...?" your voice poured out softly and insecurely.

your eyes, almost childlike as you looked up at him.

michaels heart absolutely broke.

"you're okay, i promise ─ you're safe. i've got you, honeybee," he breathed, pulling your head into his chest. his hands cradled your body and head.

softly. he believed he'd break you if he held you any tighter.

"youre safe...ive got you." he whispered softly, attempting to reassure you.

but it would be months until you truly trusted your surroundings and the feeling of safety.

"you didn't─ you didn't tell me...you forgot to tell me where you were last night...," you trailed off, remembering what had happened earlier in the night.

your mind was pulling pieces together.

your husbands eyebrows creased, before he realized.

you were right. he had forgotten to leave a note or message or to have bill ring you, that he would be at the studio late and would miss dinner.

"im sorry my lo─," you cut him off, pulling back from his chest now.

he saw the way your eyes were replaying the events of last night. starting from the very beginning.

"around one, i could have sworn you came home," you paused looking up at him.

"i thought you had come home then...so i didn't think anything of it. there were noises outside, and then silence and i could have sworn it was you...," you trailed off, remembering more.

"and then around 2:30, i heard a bang outside, i stood up looking and saw movement in the guest house...and then i called you and─," your voice fell.

in a softer voice, terror plaguing your very words, "what happened to them?" you questioned. them, was laced with darkness.

you looked back up at michael who sighed, "they were all arrested. they're being prosecuted, but they aren't leaving jail until they're arraigned. but my lawyer and bill said they won't be going home.. so they have no way of hurting you or coming back, ok?" he said slowly but surely.

you nodded softly before looking away and then at the ground.

"i thought...i thought..when they took me from the closet, they threatened to kill me michael...and the way they touched me and pulled at my dress...i thought they were going to do much, much more," you paused to swallow.

michael.

you never used his full name like that.

and he didn't like the reasoning behind it, nor did he like the tone.

fear.

unrelenting fear.

and michael did not like that one bit.

his blood ran hot at what you said.

breaking in, was one thing.

putting hands on you? threatening you with emotional and psychological pain?

there would be no lengths michael would cease to go, when it came to you.

those men would pay.

for everything they stole that night, from you.

michael slowly turned your chin towards him, and so now you were both looking at one another.

"I never want to feel that way again michael...never again." you stated, your voice giving out at the end.

michael would do everything in his power and privilege to make sure that it never happened again.

he nodded once.

his jaw set. his lips pressed firmly against each other. his eyes dark.

you pulled him in for a deep kiss.

his arms tightened around your figure, briefly.

you pulled away before giving him a quick peck before standing up.

michael watched as you walked out of the bedroom and down the soft stairs, as the smell of breakfast swirled through the house. cinnamon and brown sugar following.

michael stood up, pulling back the curtains, and looked out at the santa monica mountains before him. the sun was beginning to peak out from behind.

in a matter of seconds, his life flashed before his eyes.

in a matter of seconds, his purpose and saving grace coupled with the possibility of them ceasing to exist, settled in deeply; enroaching his very bones.

in a matter of seconds, the canyons that he found the most solace and tranquility had become his absolute worst nightmare.

he had always known from you and the natives of los angeles, who he had crossed paths with, had always said that the canyons in this land can be a symbol of pain, isolation, and death.

that the terrain can be unforgiving and can kill within mere breaths.

that stark reality became all too real for a moment.

all before dawn.

Hope you all enjoyed —if you did, please feel free to comment and/or reblog. Much appreciated xx

[equallyshaw]

thankyou so so much!!!!

[lapsofthegods]

━━ SPECIAL TREATMENTS .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚

SUMMARY: you just had a fight with your boyfriend. unfortunately for you, he's also your boss ━ and you still have a work to do.

PAIRING: 𝖡𝖠𝖣!𝖬𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖤𝖫 x 𝖬𝖠𝖪𝖤𝖴𝖯𝖠𝖱𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳!𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣𝖤𝖱

TAGS: 𝖥𝖫𝖴𝖥𝖥 ╱ 𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖲𝖳 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 𝖠 𝖧𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖸 𝖤𝖭𝖣𝖨𝖭𝖦 ╱ 𝖤𝖲𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖧𝖤𝖣 𝖱𝖤𝖫𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖯 ╱ 𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖣 𝖫𝖠𝖭𝖦𝖴𝖠𝖦𝖤 ╱ 𝖩𝖤𝖠𝖫𝖮𝖴𝖲!𝖬𝖨𝖢𝖧𝖠𝖤𝖫 ╱ 𝖬𝖤𝖭𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭 𝖮𝖥 𝖯𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖢𝖤 ( 𝘖𝘖𝘗𝘚 ) ╱ 𝖲𝖴𝖦𝖦𝖤𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖵𝖤.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was born after this thought i had. this actually turned out way different than i thought it would be, but im actually happy with it lol. thank you for reading!

tagging . . . @plumppies @lavnderluv @alexablanc @unknwnbrii @asahipoopoo @cheriiix @janyiahsucks-blog @idkhonestlyy-blog1 @lovekaiaa @jxngwons-pinkyy @htgrtvrtg @babygguk98 @heygf555 @equallyshaw @justalocallesbian @jinxtheplanet @strawbevrri @noelleeesstuff @shukiio @sugerglidder @celebify @vigilantlysassypact @tojiswifeforlife @tenderlyboundlessparagon @muddyloserlia

PERHAPS YOU WERE tapping the brush a little too hard against the back of the powder, or perhaps you were not being nearly rough enough for your liking, since Michael was still staring at you without batting an eyelid, the corner of his lips slightly turned up. With a roll of your eyes, you dusted his face, the bristles pressing against his skin without much mercy. 

Today, he would not be getting a single bit of special treatment from you ━ that was decided! 

"Lift your head up a bit," you ordered firmly. 

Michael complied without grumbling, his teeth biting the inside of his cheek as if to stop himself from speaking… or laughing. His eyes remained fixed on you ━ on the crease appearing between your eyebrows, on the way your jaw was clenched, and on how your fingers were turning slightly paler as you held the brush oh so firmly in your hands.

He had been sitting perfectly still in the chair for a good fifteen minutes. Michael was already wearing his stage costume ━ a skin-tight metallic top that caught every beam of light, black straps that hugged his forearms, while a slanted zipper cut across his chest. Thick black curls framed his face, one single stubborn curl kept clinging to his forehead and you had had to pin it down back in place. This had earned you a reaction from him you had shut down with a look.

As you applied his make-up ━ foundation matched to his skin tone, applied delicately, especially to the depigmented areas of his face, concealer under his eyes to brighten them, and light contouring along the sides of his nose ━ all the tension that seemed to have built up in him melted away, to the point where he began to watch you with amusement, his fingers occasionally reaching for your thighs, hidden beneath the jeans you were wearing.

You fended off every advance, your annoyance with him growing with every brushstroke across his face. When you tapped his nose a little too hard, that was when your boyfriend decided something had to be said. 

"Ouch! Careful," he complained. "C’mon… how much longer you gonna keep lookin’ at me like that?"

Your only response was an exasperated sigh, as you carried on applying the powder to the rest of his face. Once that was done, you took a black eyeliner pencil from your make-up bag to tackle his eyes. 

"Look up."

Michael hesitated for a moment, looking away from you for the first time. What you were holding in your hands was a veritable weapon to him, and he had absolutely no intention of performing at tonight’s gig with one eye missing. In an almost instinctive movement, he raised his hand to try and rest it on yours ━ you dodged his touch as if it was the plague. 

"Baby…" he sighed.

"Don’t baby me and look up. I’ve got better things to do than put up with your fucking antics."

In a perfectly automatic reflex, Michael coughed as if to erase the swear word that had just slipped from your lips, and that was enough to set the fire that had been simmering inside you for several minutes absolutely ablaze. 

"Oh, fuck off! You say far worse than me sometimes!" you exclaimed. "Look the fuck up, I said."

"Ask nicely."

And he had the fucking audacity to grin at you! You let out another sigh ━ the day was going to be longer than expected. The liner was still clenched between your fingers, the heels of your three-inch shoes tapping impatiently against the floor. 

"Michael... I'm really not in the mood to play games with you right now."

"'t's a simple request, woman. It's called politeness ━ ever heard of that?"

You decided to ignore him completely, your free hand grabbing his face, fingernails digging just deep enough into his jaw ━ you were not about to ruin all your hard work, after all. The liner was now just a few millimetres from his eyes when he closed them.

Fucking stubborn.

"You're so mean to me," Michael pouted, trying to move his head.

"Fire me," you challenged, a small smirk showing itself on your very distracting lips.

"So you'll be free to go work for Prince? Never."

And as if nothing had happened, you let go of him in one swift movement, as though he had burnt you, taking a few steps back. He was always doing that. Michael made you believe he was not angry any more, that everything was forgotten and that he was ready to carry on as if nothing had happened, because he could not bear the thought of you harbouring any negative feelings toward him, even for just a few hours. Then he had to ruin everything, his jealousy catching up with him in a flash. 

Michael tried to catch you again, but to no avail. You dodge him, throwing the liner back into your make-up bag ━ you were done.

"C’mon, girl, you can’t possibly still be ma━"

"Cant fucking still be mad at you for being a fucking controlling, jealous asshole? Oh yes I am! Yes I am!"

You started to pack away your kit, your arms moving frantically. Even though you were really annoyed with him, it was all just an act. After all, you were a professional, and even though Michael was your boyfriend and was getting on your nerves, he was still your employer ━ the one who paid your wages ━ and you certainly were not going to let him leave half-ready. Although… 

"Baby… you can’t possibly leave me like that! I have to be on stage in━" he looked at the clock. "━fifteen minutes!" Michael whined. "I’ll shut up. Please, don’t leave."

You took advantage of the fact that you had your back to him to smile. Got him. Slowly, you turned your head slightly to the side, one eyebrow raised, your chin held high.

"Oh, really? Are you just going to shut up and let me get on with my work?" he nodded. "No more touching?" another nod. "No more comments about me doing Prince's makeup?" there was an hesitation on his part. "Michael!"

There was a long sigh.

"... ‘romise," he mumbled.

You turned your head toward your make-up bag, rolling your eyes. He really was stubborn.

It was at that moment that you felt two hands rest on your hips, a warm breath brushing against your neck. The very next second, something damp pressed against your skin, and it took you half a second more to realise it was his lips. The bastard.

"’m sorry," Michael pressed another kiss.

"Are you now?"

With his hands, he pulled you toward him so that you were sitting on top of him on the chair. Your hands automatically wrapped round his neck ━ for fear of falling, of course ━ his palm resting flat against your thigh. His mouth wasted no time in finding your throat.

"’m just a jealous idiot," Michael murmured against you. "I hate the thought of him lookin’ at you… you touchin’ his face━"

"It’s just work!" you cut him off, trying not to moan at his ministrations. "It’s literally my fucking job!"

Ahem.

"I swear to God if you ahem me once more━"

His laughter cut you off mid-sentence, reverberating against your upper chest. Michael planted a burning kiss just above your heart, which was pounding wildly.

"You’re cute when you’re mad."

You simply rolled your eyes at him, shoving his chest weakly which made him laugh a little more. His hand, which until then had remained quietly on your thigh, began a slow journey up your body, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake.

"You’re being inappropriate," you managed to say, acting like you were about to stop his fingers from touching your heated skin. "I’m your employee."

"Mmm, my favourite employee," Michael kissed your jaw.

You let yourself be swept away by his caresses and kisses for a moment, your eyes closing with desire. He had always been very good at making you forget why you were angry in the first place, but this time you were determined to make him understand that he had gone too far.

Ignoring the way your thighs instinctively clenched around nothing, you opened your eyes again and brought your hands to his face once more. His chocolate-brown eyes met yours and, for a moment, you were on the verge of begging him to devour you just before his concert.

Patience is a virtue, you reminded yourself.

His wayward strand was still perfectly pinned in place by the clip you had put in, his curls brushing against your fingers as you lifted his face toward yours.

"I need you to understand that your reaction was really hurtful, Mike," you said softly, trying to keep your anger at bay for it would not help the situation he was trying to resolve peacefully. "I know you have… Whatever your relationship with Prince is, but… this is a great opportunity for me."

Michael looked down, his lower lip clenched between his teeth ━ a clear sign that he regretted his behaviour. His hands had stopped moving, only his thumb kept tracing circles beneath your shirt. He exhaled before meeting your gaze.

"You’re right…" Michael admitted. "I know you’re right and I apologise for my reaction. Truly. You’re the most talented make-up artist, it should be expected that… that anyone would want you to make them look pretty."

"You don’t need me to make you look pretty, silly," you bit the inside of your cheek to stop you from smiling.

"Does that mean I’m prettier than Prince?" he grinned.

This time, it was you who let out a laugh, swatting his chest.

"Fishing for compliments is sooo unlike you."

"I’ll take that answer as a yes," Michael chuckled, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Whatever," you looked up.

Stretching on his lap to reach for your make-up bag, you searched for your liner. There was only ten minutes left before the show and he still needed his eyes done. Once you had found it, you tilted his chin up, repositioning yourself better with your legs fully capturing his.

"Hold still," you said gently.

Michael did as he was told, letting you do your work peacefully. He was still wearing that proud grin on his face, knowing full well that you were finally going to forgive him. His hands slid over your bottom, under the pretence that it was to stop you from slipping. You raised an eyebrow at him, not fooled for a moment, whilst your fingers traced a symmetrical line around his eyes.

"You know, with all your bullshit, I believe that I deserve a raise," you spoke, finishing off the outline of his left eye.

"Done."

"I didn’t say how much," you chuckled.

"Doesn’t matter," Michael’s fingers were rolling over your jean. "Whatever you want, baby, you’ll get."

"You’re terrible at managing your money," you exhaled, amused, working on his right eye.

"Good thing I have people to help me with that," he squeezed your bottom. "Name a price, woman, it’s all yours."

"You’re being ridiculous," you chuckled under your breath.

"I’d buy you a house, an apartment ━ whatever you want or…" Michael hesitated in a whisper. "… or... A ring… if… if that’s somethin’ you’d want…"

The liner almost slipped from your fingers, and you left a black smudge on his eyelid as you tried to catch it.

"Shit."

You picked up a cotton bud that was lying on the table, your eyes fixed on absolutely everything except his. You could feel his gaze on you, his hands still resting on your bottom. You wiped away the mark you had just left on his skin before resuming your task, your fingers trembling slightly.

Unable to resist any longer, Michael took the hand holding the liner and brought it to his lips, planting a kiss on your knuckles.

"What do you say?" he asked, raising his eyes at yours. "Mm?"

You stilled for a second. He was so pretty like this, his doe brown eyes looking up at you with a warmth so inviting that you almost leaned in to kiss him.

"I say that… that you don’t need to say that type of things to make me forgive you," you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"That’s good to know, sweetheart, but I’m actually being serious," Michael released your hand, bringing his own to your face. "What do you say?" he repeated shyly.

"I…" you were truly at loss for words, swallowing slowly. "I’d say that…" come on, girl, speak! "… that this better not be your official proposal."

A genuine smile broke his face as he brought you closer to him, his nose and mouth finding the side of your neck. Michael pressed small kisses there again, the scent of mandarine and strawberries enveloping him in a warm embrace.

"Don’t worry, the real one will be much better," you could feel his smile against your skin. "I really am sorry for what I said," he said again, really needing you to know he was sincere. "You know you don’t need my permission to do anything, right?"

Your hands gently caressed the nape of his neck. 

"I know."

"Good," Michael nodded before lifting his head, the corner of his mouth doing the same thing. "That said..."

"Oh, here we go again..." you sighed, rolling your eyes again.

"... Go do your job and do as good as you always do," he continued, catching your hands in his. "Make him jealous. He'll never have the best make-up artist for himself ━ the best girl."

Your breath caught at his words as his brought your hands to his mouth, kissing your fingertips softly.

"And to say I almost believed you when you said you wouldn't be jealous anymore..." you managed to breathe, but there was another kind of heat that tainted your tone.

"But this," Michael gestured to you sitting on his lap. "This special treatment is for me only."

You snorted at that, releasing yourself from his grip, your arms coming around his neck as you bit your lip.

"I don't think that's in my contract, Mr. Jackson."

His hands came to rest on your bottom, squeezing harder than before.

"You should read your contract more carefully, girl," he grinned. "It even specifies that before every show I should take extra care of you."

"Extra care?" you smirked. "Can you even do that in..." you turned just enough to look at the clock. "... five minutes?"

The challenge was there. You saw how his eyes widened slightly before going back to their usual size, a determined look now dressing them. In one swift movement, Michael stood up, bringing you with him as you let out a small, surprised scream.

"Watch me, woman!" he shot back, lying you down on the couch as you giggled.

Yeah, you would never resign.

[equallyshaw]

oh lordy lord -- how can i like this more than once?!

[equallyshaw]

i wont be ur cliche. | michael jackson fic pt 1/2.

✧ HIStory tour -- 1996-1997. ✧ michael x dancer! ✧ warnings: oh uh.....unforeseen pregnancy. ✧ word count: 7.2k...yeah shes longer than i intended lol ✧ masterlist. ✧ michaels masterlist.

It had never meant to happen. None of this was meant to happen.

Well, that's what Tatum had said over and over again, as she would leave Michael's hotel room to scurry back to hers after they spent a few hours together each night after a show. And she continuously told herself, no more. No more could they sneak around. As they had for the better half of a year, almost.

That they couldn't and would not become that stereotypical cliche.

It began as soon as rehearsals had begun, before his divorce had been finalized with his ex-wife.

The singer had taken an interest in the Chicago girl, as she stepped forward during the first few rehearsals to give her opinion. And then showed a revision she had thought of, without waiting for a go-ahead from him or Kenny. Michael liked her. He was amused by her. From that point on, whispers here and there turned into secret dinners after rehearsal before he went to the studio or would try to sleep. Then it turned into nights locked away with Michael.

Before they both knew it, they couldn't go a day without seeing each other. From holding one another after a long day, before she would part.

He had said from the beginning that he didn't want anything. He couldn't afford anything. Besides, he had just recently divorced, and Tatum was also exiting her way out of a six-year-long relationship that went nowhere.

Maybe that's why it was intoxicating. Maybe the fun was in the sneaking. The hiding. The moments in front of the world that meant more to each other than words could ever justify or begin to explain.

Night after night, on stage -- after each dance solo she was given -- she'd make her way towards him; and the night would be over. But not before, she scurried back to her room.

Besides. It was just fun, right?

It's not like either of them had actually fallen for one another, right?

It's not like one of them was in love, right?

They weren't falling into the cliche, right?

Right.

___

May 1997.

Tatum stepped onto the stage for the interlude between Heal the World and Earth Song.

The opening chords alongside birds chirping surrounded the crowd and, most importantly, Tatum.

Her white silk and flowy dress moved with her as she reached towards the crowd, her arm pulling back behind her before turning 4 times, falling to the floor.

The interlude moved her through the minute break, her eyes closed the whole time. She allowed the music and atmosphere to overtake her; everyone watching was entranced.

Michael's voice began to carry through the crowd as he opened the song with a melody. Tatum did her last pirouette before Michael stepped onto the stage. She took a half step towards him before turning and walking off.

The next song Tatum was on for was HIStory, which included, They Don't Care About Us, and this mashup was one of her favorites to perform. It didn't help that she and Michael were paired next to each other the whole song.

Wherever he went, she followed.

Michael finished off the last lyric, staring down at Tatum as she ended across from him, mirroring his stance, their palms pressed to the crowd.

And then the stage went dark.

Tatum quickly moved off the stage with the rest of the dance crew, falling into step with the only two other girls: Malika and Toni.

The three of them were in the middle of getting changed out of their costumes when there was a knock on the door, with Toni running to grab it.

Outside the door stood Michael's security guard, Brad, holding a piece of paper.

The two other girls grinned in amusement once the door shut, and they whispered, shouted at the dancer.

Then one of them got serious as they teased the girl.

"Hey, Tate...can I ask you something?," she questioned seriously, and Tatum froze and looked at her friend.

"What happens when the tour ends...? Have either of you talked about that? Like-- look at you, you're smitten. You have been for almost a year now. Since rehearsals started...Like I love you, you know that. But what are we doing?" She questioned truthfully, but filled with love.

Toni was right. They had just started the second leg, and as soon as everyone got back together, she and Michael were inseparable.

But during break?

Silence.

Excruiating silence.

Tatum swallowed back her tears, but her eyes betrayed her. She nodded, taking the hairbrush to the hair that had just been released from pins.

She set down the brush, "Yeah, I know..." She trailed off as her voice betrayed her.

"Im sure he'll bring it up!" Malika encouraged, and Tate shrugged with a small smile.

Maybe.

__

A month later, Tatum got sick mid-song, The Way You Make Me Feel.

During that particular song, the three female dancers danced with all the guys, switching every few beats while in sync with one another. Michael walked around the trio, every few beats he would directly dance with one -- and then the next, and so on.

Michael was mid-twirl with Malika when she turned her back towards the crowd and hunched over.

Michael, from out of the corner of his eye, saw the girl step back, hunch over, and then one of the dancers wrapped an arm around her and led her off stage.

Malika and Toni were true performers -- seasoned pros from theater, seamlessly improvising until Michael danced with Toni and then Malika before Michael stepped out of the circle.

Offstage, Tatum hurled a few times before leaning into Ryan, who had become a close friend during the tour. "It's ok.." he said softly as she quietly sobbed into his shoulder.

"Ryan! Get your ass back on stage!" They heard the stagehand scream across the wings.

"Go...," she said softly, her hands growing limp as she tried to push him away.

He kissed her temple before running back to the stage.

The song finished, and instead of the Jackson 5 Medley beginning, Michael's band began to play an interlude.

Tatum was currently being attended to by a doctor as well as one of the producers. A cold rag was on her neck as her vitals were being checked. A Gatorade was being brought to her with saltines.

Michael stepped between the dancers, who basically parted like the Red Sea to let him through to see his dancer.

His dancer.

Toni and Malika made their way to her before Michael did, kneeling next to her as she sat on the chair.

Michael did not like what he was seeing. He didn't like seeing her pale. Weak. Limp. And certainly did not like how quiet she was.

One of the things he loved most about her was her personality. She was truly a firecracker. She lit up every dormant fiber in his body when she laughed, teased, joked, and had a way of lighting up his mind.

She made him feel truly, truly alive.

Something he hadn't felt for so long.

She walked in one day, lit his world on fire, and hasn't extinguished it since.

Michael kneeled in front of the girl as the doctor said she was cleared medically, but that she should sit out the rest of the night, so she doesn't throw up again. The girl was already protesting.

"No. Tatum- I don't want you getting sicker out there-," she cut him off, "No! But dangerous-," he now cut her off. His hand softly found hers in reassurance before he pulled it back, her skin blazing. "We'll do it next tour stop, ok? Rest. We've got it-." She went to speak, but he held a hand up, "That's final, O'Connor." Oh. That one was new. She swallowed back her pride and rebuttal before Michael stood up and walked back towards the stage. Her fellow dance troupe gave her supportive smiles, and she gave a weak one in return.

Toni and Malika stayed a few seconds more, "Rest, Tate. I know, I know," Toni began, and Malike finished, "We'll talk about whatever the hell that was." She said quieter.

To be quite honest, Michael was off the rest of the show. A beat or two late on each step. The lyrics falling from his mind. His mind was clearly not on stage but with the girl who found herself sitting alone on the tour bus.

As Tatum said alone on the tour bus, waiting for the show to end, her mind began to connect the dots. Her eyebrows creased as her heart began to pound. She heard it in her temple.

No.

That couldn't be.

She had to be wrong, very wrong.

__

Tatum was late meeting Michael in his hotel room.

An hour late.

Which was very unusual for the girl.

2:05 was on the clock when he heard a knock on his door. His mind instantly focused on it. He prayed it was Tate. He had to know she was okay.

He opened the door quickly, and she stood there, her hands clasped at her center, unsure. Very unsure. It didn't look like her.

He took in the girl. Her hair was somewhat messy. Her makeup had been stripped. Face visibly exhausted. Her grey sweatshirt and sweatpants set hung loosely on her.

He pulled her hand, pulling her in, and as soon as he shut the door behind them - his hands cupped her face, pulling her in for a deep kiss. Michael pulled back after a few seconds, before resting their forwards against each other. He wrapped his arms around the quiet girl, kissing her temple. "You ok, Tate?" He questioned softly, hoping to not spook her.

She pushed back gently, and he released instantly. Michael searched her face for answers, "It's Tate? Not O'Connor?," she paused, allowing him to put the pieces together. Her tone finalized his suspicions.

"Lovey-," she cut him off, turning on her heel towards the living room area of the suite. "No!," she paused, her back facing him as he his way towards her. He hesitated but ultimately wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She molded into him, his chin finding the crook of her neck. She hated how easy she folded for this man.

Her voice croaked out, "You humiliated me Micheal..," she sniffled, "The way you spoke at me...not with me. Your tone-," he cut her off as she softly cooed her, turning her in his arms.

"I know, I know, Tate...Im sorry. As soon as I saw your face drop, I knew it came out harsher than I had planned. And your name-- I didn't even think." He said, trying to comfort her. She sniffled again, and he tilted her chin towards him; his eyes said what he couldn't say.

The way he looked at her made her feel as though she mattered more than so. More than most. There was this unexplainable feeling deep within her.

Her stomach stilled at the daunting realization. She knew why he looked at her as if she hung the moon, the planets, and the stars. As if she could do no wrong.

But it was the proximity, her mind argued. Without that, they wouldn't be whatever this thing was.

Tate pulled Michael in for a long, molten kiss. They broke apart, his hands helping her pull off her grey sweater, her white bralette becoming visible now. His hands found the top of her ribs, his thumb softly toying with the band of the bralette. His thumb found his way underneath one side, before the other followed suit.

Soon her bralette was thrown, her chest bare. The soft lightning illuminated her tanned skin.

His gaze lit ablaze as she stepped backwards towards the bed. Her knees hit the end of the bed.

She sat down upon it, her leg atop the other one. Her head tilted to the side, daring him to follow. He grinned, throwing off his t-shirt and what was left across his chest, a gold chain.

She pulled him in by the chain as he was a mere foot away.

His giggle filled her ears like music.

__

June 1997.

Two nights passed, and now here she was performing on, Dangerous.

It was not originally a part of the setlist. However, one night somewhere between Adelaide and Sydney, he had her dance for him. No music. She threw herself across the floor, her legs flying higher than he'd seen them before, her tilts and splits -- and gravity-defying turns mesmerized him.

Later that same night, as the two had twisted and turned in the sheets a few times, he questioned, "What song or melody were you thinking of?" She was silent for a few seconds before grinning, "Dangerous." She hummed.

Now here she was, doing the same version he saw all those months ago.

Her body adorned a black, tight, sheer leotard, her soft brown locks free from pins, and her feet bare, so she could grip the floor.

She started at the back corner before she walked, turned, and then did a front aerial onto her bottom. She turned on the floor, her legs bending behind her, and her long hair whipping across her face.

Michael stood in the center aisle watching her, his back towards the crowd.

Then she sauntered towards him, and when he reached out to grab her, she turned and moved away from him, her foot carrying her a few feet away after a leap.

Her eyes found Michaels, and for the rest of the song, they didn't leave.

His brown eyes and hers danced across that stage with one another.

Her soul and his were on fire that night. Their chemistry electric.

Yet, her heart was filled with remorse and sadness.

This would be her last show with the tour.

With Michael.

She planned to leave after the show and head back to Chicago.

No one knew. Besides Malika and Toni. They knew the truth. They would guard with their lives.

Her final move was a front aerial onto her back and she froze, her arms and legs bent into a star like position.

The crowd went absolutely wild. Michael stared across towards her from the same position he started in, with his back towards the crowd once more, and his smile. Man, if anyone was really paying attention -- they'd see just how smitten he was with the dancer.

His gaze said it all, before he could.

___

The news came a few hours later. Michael had just settled into his hotel suite for the night. He had just finished showering and was drying off his hair when Brad walked in, and the singer slowed in his walk towards the couch as Brad had a sad gaze.

"What's up, Brad?" Michael questioned, setting the towel down. Brad sighed softly, "Tate's gone.." Brad trailed off. Michael's forehead creased, his heart ceasing to work for a few seconds, his breath stalling in his chest.

No.

That couldn't be right.

"What do you mean, gone?" He questioned, his tone coming out angry. Angrier than he intended. Brad began to speak but Michael spoke over him, "Brad, what do you mean by ' gone? Gone to the next city? Went out-," Brad cut him off, "No. She left the tour.....She went home." Brad explained. The singer took a step back in shock. In surprise, in disbelief.

His hands found his uncovered hips, as he had yet to put a shirt on after his shower.

Michael's thoughts ran a mile a minute. Frustration Anger. Grief. Sadness. All morphed into a wave that kept rolling into him. His head tilted back towards the ceiling, his eyes shutting softly, covering the tears that formed in them.

"Did she say why?" Michael asked after a minute of silence.

Brad was silent.

He reopened his eyes and stared at Brad.

"Brad." He called out in a slightly demanding tone.

Brad shook his head, "Toni and Malika wouldn't say." He explained. Michael began to walk towards and past him towards the door, but Brad grabbed hold of Michael's arm. "Don't, not tonight." But Michael didn't listen. Didn't care. Didn't pretend to hear him.

He needed to know why the girl of his dreams -- Jesus, he hadn't admitted that to himself before now. The girl that he was absolutely bespoken and smitten with -- had left without a trace.

The girl who stutted into his life, setting it ablaze, wouldn't have left without a word. She wouldn't have left quietly. Him.

She loved her job. She took it incredibly seriously. She took work, as a beauty of honor, that she always gave 110% with. It's a part of what he had come to love about her. Tate never took anything in this life for granted, especially not dance. The very thing that gave her her worth and purpose.

There was no way she'd leave without speaking to him, right?

No way she could leave without explaining herself, right?

Right?

__

November 1997.

Michael had just finished the tour in Africa when he jetted home to Los Angeles.

The day after Tatum left the tour, he took the night off. He told the tour, the press -- the world he was sick.

No.

It was just easier to say that than explain that he was heartbroken. That the girl he had fallen in love with before his divorce was finalized had waltzed out of his life without a single word.

Because that would be messy. Michael would have to fess up and own up to things that happened during rehearsals, and he didn't have a sheer fuck to do so.

But he went on. Painfully so. The tracklist was revamped because he could no longer have Dangerous on the tour, nor could he do any of the dance parts without her.

He struggled over the next four months, the months dragging along. No longer filled with laughter, warmth, and lightness.

The fire had gone out. Extinguished the moment she left.

And Tatum? She knew. She heard from afar. She saw the pictures in the magazines that just showed how miserable he was.

One night, Toni had explained that he was really feeling it and decided to perform, Let it be - by The Beatles. Tatum's favorite song without a doubt. He sang it as the finale, after Heal the World. Twice.

Michael came up with a fabricated story for the press; but Toni, Malika, and Tatum knew the truth.

One, it was her song. It was the one song she would hum and sing like a lullaby the nights he couldn't sleep. Secondly? It sounded like a plea. If that made any sense.

And as tears had fallen -- his heart broke open even more.

He missed the girl who sang it like a lullaby to him. He missed the girl whose giggles filled his ears like a melody. Missed the girl whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

And that was what terrified him, beyond belief.

The enigma of a woman came into his life during a time of angst and emotional deprivation. Who opened him up with one joke at a time and one opinion at a time. Even more so, her kindness. Her dedication- passion- her love for her closest friends and dance troupe. from top to bottom of the house (stage production), her love, kindness, and humility were ever present.

Tatum watched from afar, in between teaching classes at her old dance studio in Chicago, before being hand-selected for Shania Twain's debut tour: Come on Over.

Tatum flew to Toronto to live for four months before the tour began in Sudbury.

Tatu was also hand-selected to dance in the: You're Still the One I Want & Man, I feel like a woman.

Michael heard ofcourse, through the grapevine. Kenny Ortega, finding out from the choreographer for the tour.

Michael nor Tatum had heard from one another after she left.

Tatum was convinced that whatever was between them never meant anything. She was a fling. Situationship.

Michael believed that he wasn't enough for her. That he somehow fell short of what she either needed or wanted. Maybe it was both.

Furthermore, he was 38 by the time the two met. She was only 22. Tatum could have cared less, and so could have Michael. Age never mattered between them. Well. Nothing really mattered when all they were doing was tossing and turning in a hotel suite. The outside world didn't exist.

But still. Michael believed he didn't measure up to whatever it was. So, Michael did what he did best. He swallowed his feelings and moved on.

But did he truly move on? ___

June 1998. Anaheim, California. Arrowhead Pond of Anaheim.

It was now the 7th stop of the USA leg, the 12th stop overall. Tatum had yet to return to the Los Angeles area, following the final rehearsals for the HIStory tour. So, after the show, as they were leaving the night, she'd be meeting up with some friends. Which included Toni and Malika. Both of whom had been training for the Backstreet Boys' 1999 tour.

Tatum did her pre-show ritual of flicking her hands to the side 12 times, along with shaking her legs out, going from 12 to 1, on each.

She said a small intention for the show before the opening of, "Man I feel like a woman." Her breath was centered, and her mind was focused.

But then she heard the whispers.

He was here.

The dancer had no second to think about it before she strutted out.

Michael's attention found the familiar strut and stage presence of Tatum. His breath was taken from him, that opening number.

She looked alive. No, she was alive. She was mesmerizing. She was magnetic. She was the very same enigma, the day he selected her for the tour.

His eyes never once left the dancer. Nothing else mattered in the world during that opening number. And quite frankly, for the whole damn show.

Then, You're still the one I want, and she had a duet with another male dancer.

Again, his eyes couldn't leave her. His eyes traced every curve of her body, his shoulders slightly swaying as if he was hitting certain notes or beats during the choreography.

The dance ended with the male dancer holding her, chest ot chest, his lips pressed upon the peak of her neck when the stage went dark.

Tatum came back on two songs later, before the final few songs.

She danced as if this were the last time she'd ever dance.

She danced as if no one was watching.

Yes, very much a cliche. But that's something that Michael loved about her. Something they connected over beyond just dance.

At the end of the show, Shania pulled Tatum out of the bows the dancers did, to hand her a bouquet of pink roses.

Shania explained to the crowd that it was her 25th birthday, and everyone in the arena sang "Happy Birthday " to her.

Michael sang along with the crowd, watching as she squirmed and had a hand over her mouth to keep her lip from quivering. The singer watched in adoration, and his heart warmed seeing the girl so moved. Shania pulled her in for a side hug before the lights went out a final time.

Michael looked towards Brad, as well as his personal assistant, who sat on the other side. He whispered to him, and the assistant was moving quickly to make his request --happen.

___

Tatum was showered with love as she exited the stage. Stagehands were telling her happy birthday, and the whole troupe was talking about drinks that apparently were on them that evening, at some local country bar. The dancer had yet to clear her mind before the whispers began again. She made her way to one of the dressing rooms that she shared with six other dancers, and began to undress and slip into her tracksuit. She threw on her very worn sambas from Paris, her tour tracksuit from Puma, and took her pins down from her hair before brushing it with her hands.

Tatum felt like it was a calm before the storm.

She took a few minutes to look at herself in the mirror. The lightbulbs illuminated her tanned skin.

Truth be told? She had avoided mirrors for months at this point. After the very unplanned pregnancy she had back on tour, she couldn't look at herself in the mirror. Because when she did, her mind rewinded the past two years almost. the different versions of herself. All of which, probably, weren't close to who she actually is.

And the baby? Very much not who she is or was. She never wanted kids. She always wanted to be a dancer, a career woman stepping into the world of music, at some point. Sure, she wanted the husband at some point -- but no offspring was apart of her future.

She was more than okay with that. It was something decided long, long ago.

But she couldn't bear to look at herself in the mirror.

She didn't like who she had come to be.

That relationship -- whatever it was, she later came to realize took so much from her. The secrecy. Running around. The stolen looks. Their shared laughs and many, many stolen nights exhausted her beyond belief. Tatum realized that at some point, she had gotten tired of it all. Yet, she couldn't break it. She, too, had fallen for the singer.

Which made her 1 in a billion.

It was such a cliché, and she despised it.

A younger girl falling for the older man. A dancer and a singer. A recent divorcee and a heartbroken girl who had just left a relationship.

It was quite apparent that neither one of them could be alone. Especially at night.

She didn't like that. Did not like that version of herself. Bending over backwards for someone who could probably never be able to claim her, publicly & show her off to the world.

But this version, at this very moment? She did like her. She was enough. She was calm. She was accomplished. And she belonged to herself.

Tatum licked her lips once before taking a deep breath, and the door flung open.

Toni and Malika.

"AHH!" The trio screamed at one another as the two fellow dancers piled into the room, engulfing her with a hug.

Tatum cried. Tears poured from her hazel eyes. Her tired, exhausted eyes.

The two girls pulled back instantly, wiping the girl's tears.

Tatum then saw the bouquet of flowers Malika held, lilies.

"Guys!" She said, her voice giving out with disbelief and emotion.

"You were absolutely amazing, Tate, out of this world!" Toni encouraged, and Malika followed suit, "GIRL!!!! You were HOT! No one could take their eyes off of you -- your extensions, your emotions-- your presence, oh my god!" Malike gushed.

Tatum gave them a small smile.

"Thank you, guys! You guys didn't have ot travel from LA for me." Tatum said, and the two girls shook their heads.

"We would fly across the world to see you, honey," Toni exclaimed, as if it were an indisputable fact. Malika mirrored her sentiment.

There was a knock on the open door behind them, and the two girls parted so Tatum could see who it was. It was Shania, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"We're taking pics and then heading out, ok?" She mused, and Tatum nodded before Shania disappeared down the hall.

"God, that woman..she's so hot..." Malika trailed off, and the two other girls giggled, agreeing with her.

"Im gonna head towards pics, and then we'll head out?" She questioned, turning as she stopped at the door. The two girls nodded, with Toni giving her a playful salute.

Tatum walked towards the largest green room on the floor above, and her breath caught in her throat. She froze upon entering the room.

Her eyes saw Brad almost immediately. The one who kept their secret from the world. The entirety of rehearsals and throughout the time you were with her before she left.

And then she heard him.

His voice brought a surge of familiarity and comfort.

Damnit, she cursed herself.

Brad smiled fondly down at her, and she gave him a polite one in return. She sighed softly, walking up next to Eric - her duet partner, and Hannah, another dancer, both of whom she had grown close to over the course of a year.

Michael instantly noticed the almost 5'8 dancer come into view. She looked everywhere, but at him.

She also saw that Kenny was also in attendance and hanging casually to the side of him. She internally groaned.

"The woman of the hour!" Michael praised, his eyes lightening up as she looked at the girl.

Hannah grinned, pushing her shoulder slightly, and Eric chuckled as Tatum stayed quiet.

"You all did extraordinarily tonight, a real production. Kenny and I thoroughly enjoyed you all tonight." Michael praised, his eyes filtering to everyone around the room, before his gaze fell upon the dancer.

"You're actually just in time! We've got cake to celebrate her birthday!" Shania announced, and the room began to sing " Happy Birthday " once again.

Hannah looked at her good friend affectionately, grinning as Tatums eyes shut in shyness.

Michael watched with a small but very adoring smile.

Tatum's eyes reopened and saw the cake in front of her now, 25 pink candles adorned the white sheet cake with pink flowers and edible pearls.

Tatum's eyes shut, silently wishing for one thing before blowing out the candles.

The greenroom erupted in cheers and claps. Tatum's gaze betrayed her, and she looked up at Michael immediately, who clapped a few times with an amused grin now. She looked over towards Kenny, who was smiling, and then gave her a quick wink.

The cake was quickly cut, and conversation flowed naturally and with much zest.

Tatum was able to break away after about half an hour, quietly stepping out so as to not alert Michael or Brad.

__

She quickly went back to the dressing room to grab her bag before heading out to a local pizza spot with Toni and Malika.

As soon as the brunette entered the room, her eyes fell upon the peonies sitting on the makeup counter. Her breath hitched, stepping in front of the now.

Her favorite flowers.

Only one person knew which ones.

Tears swelled in her eyes as she stared down at them. She sniffled and cursed herself once more.

"Lovey...," she heard the unmistakable soft voice of Michael. Her eyes found his almost instantly as he stood leaning on the door frame.

"Why the sad eyes?" He questioned stepping into the room now as he shut the door behind him.

She shook her head, more tears coming out.

He gently took hold of the sides of her face, delicately cupping her face as she cried softly.

The singer wiped her tears as they came out.

Her voice was weak. Pathetic. As she attempted to speak.

"You came," was all she was able to get out before her voice gave out completely.

He nodded, "I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see you, on stage, doing the one thing that you love most in this world..," He trailed off as she took in and digested his words.

"And," He paused, biting his lip softly, "I knew if I hadn't come and tried to speak with you..that there may not be another opportunity..again." Michael explained. She shook her head, not believing it, "But I left...I left the tour without a word. I left the troupe...I left you." She pushed back.

He shrugged, "People leave me all the time, lovey..," she cut him off, "that doesn't make it better, Mickey!" Tatum argued. He nodded, "No. But I know you had your reasons...You wouldn't have just left, right?" He questioned so softly. It was as if he was still trying to convince himself.

"Right..? Unless I wasn't enough." He said it so confidently, yet so brokenly.

That there really was a chance she saw all the flaws and shortcomings that he himself saw, each and every day.

Tatum immediately shook her head.

"No...oh god no, Michael, listen to me," She said so reverently, she now grabbed ahold of his face. "There were reasons why I left that had nothing to do with you. Well..what I mean is that, there was nothing shortcoming about you -- no deficits -- no insecurities that made me run, that..that was not it, at all. You have to believe me." The dancer practically pleaded.

His eyes were now glossy as he looked down at her. Their faces were mere inches away from one another.

The dancer searched his eyes, hoping he heard her enough, heard her enough to believe it.

Michael's response was, "Tell me then. Please..tell me." He now pleaded softly, hoping to break through whatever exterior she had built.

Tatum looked away at the flowers, and Michael pushed again, "Please, lovey, tell me.."

Tatum sniffled, "Not unless you tell me what I meant to you..," she trailed off as she returned eye contact.

"Tell me I wasn't some fling, some situationship for the time being...that I was enough...that I mattered more than some shitty cliche -- tell me that, Michael. Tell me I mattered more than just someone filling your bed." The dancer basically begged.

Michael was never good with peer pressure. He was also never good at actually confessing his feelings. Sure, he had a way with lyrics. But disclosing his deepest thoughts and feelings?

Apparently, a foreign language for him.

Michael's eyes pressed softly before reopening, and giving Tatum a soft smile.

Michael began, "You were the best part of tour for me....You were the one thing that lit my world up from the moment I saw you for the first time each day and until you'd leave my room...you became my solace, my refuge, and peace. You became the best part of me. You made me a better person." he confessed, his breath becoming shaky.

"And that..," Michael trailed off as he realized just how much Tatum had become to him.

He trailed off in fear that she never felt the same, but her eyes softening was enough for him to propel forward, "I realized that was how I fell in love... You lit my world, my mind, my soul up, and when you left? The lights went out. You woke me up, and I faltered once you left," He paused, bringing their foreheads to each other.

Their eyes are pouring into each other's souls. Their breath was hot. The tension thick.

"You were never a cliche; you were more than that. You were more than some woman to fill my bed for the night..I wanted you there with me more than that. And I realize now how selfish I was being, in wanting to keep things private, to protect my image, but you lovey...deserved to be loved and adored in public. Without question. Without question of where you stand...I was wrong to keep us a secret. I thought I was protecting you, as best I could..I was wrong to not ask more questions about why you left. But I knew you had left for good reason. And I thought it was because of something I'd done that had hurt you. And if it was...im sorry Tatum..Truly." He finished, biting back his own tears.

Tatum left out a soft cry before pulling away.

Her hands found her waist as she walked towards the other side of the dressing room, one hand covering her trembling mouth.

"You-," her voice gave out as she tried to console her emotions. She shook her head, sniffling.

Her eyes clasped shut as her breathing picked up, her head becoming dizzy.

For the past three years, she carried shame & guilt about who she was. Who she had become.

And to be told that you woke someone up? That you became the best part of that chapter? And that he was sorry

Oh.

Michael watched in remorse as emotions collided into his chest, like a wave.

His chest ached as he watched her breathe heavily and the tears escape without her control. He reached out softly, placing a hand on her hand before he pulled her into his chest.

Tatums back hit the strong & sturdy chest that used to hold her nightly. The very one that provided security and affection. And comfort. When she'd stare up at him, and her mind would rewind to the man she thought was the love of her life -- before he broke off a six-year relationship. He'd push her hair behind her ear, before bringing her in for a kiss from behind, before making love to her.

Now, that same man was holding her from breaking completely.

And yet. She couldn't find her voice. To speak. To confess. To explain.

Why she disappeared. Why she never reached out. Deep down, she believed that if she confessed, he'd let her go and go back to pretending he didn't know her. Didn't care for her. Didn't love her.

Michael turned her in his arms, one arm pulling her close by her back and the other cradling her head.

His heart broke hearing the sobs escape.

The ones he prayed he would never hear.

Maybe he had broken her heart by not being honest. Maybe he had broken things so much that it was beyond repairable?

In reality, he didn't know the secret that had led them apart. He didn't know the secret that he so desperately would have wanted to bring to life. The one thing he had dreamed of for years. It had slipped from his grasp, without him knowing.

Tatum's sobs lessened, and Michael pressed a kiss to the girl's head. Pulling her as close as he possibly could.

"The reason," she paused, inhaling shakily. She then swallowed, pulling away from Michael a bit, so they could fully look at one another.

She bit the inside of her lip as he stared down at her, his chest rising and falling a bit too quickly for her liking.

Michael was on the edge of his seat, figuratively. He looked as though one wrong breath, movement -- word, would have him retreating.

"I fell pregnant Michael." she confessed softly.

Shame filled her bones.

Michael knew it was his. There was no doubt that it wasn't.

Michael inhaled shakily now, his eyes studying hers.

There had to be more, right? He pondered.

She swallowed harshly, continuing, "I got rid of it..I couldn't keep it." She confessed.

Michael's hands stayed steady, his breathing slowed. Tatum was confused by his reaction. Her eyebrows creased softly.

"That's all?" He whispered.

Her brow furrowed, "What do you mean, that's all?" She questioned, confused.

He went to speak, but she spoke, "I just told you, I was pregnant with your child and terminated the pregnancy -- and you -- all you're gonna ask is, 'is that all'? Why aren't you mad?" She questioned, taking a step back and out of his arms.

Michael had no place to be upset. He valued her autonomy and right to her body above all else. For any female, for that matter. He loved her too much to be upset.

He shook his head, "One of the very first deep conversations we had, you stated boldly and unapologetically, that you never wanted kids. You didn't want to bear them, didn't want to adopt-- that your life's journey and purpose was never to have children. Your purpose transpires and goes beyond caregiving, and that's what I loved about you. Your passion, soul purpose, and convictions -- are what pulled me in. Over time, but nevertheless, all-consuming Tate." He explained.

Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

Her fears, her anxiety, and worst-case scenarios were not playing out.

Her head believed that he would be angry, disappointed, or furious with her.

But no.

The man who loved her and the man whom she loved were still standing in front of her. Gazing at her as though she truly did hang the stars and the moon.

He remembered. He remembered something that was incredibly important to her and her self-worth.

Her mouth reopened, "But I took that life away from you." She responded. Her admission was met with a soft shake of the head.

He looked down at her hands and brought them into his, bringing them up to his lips, "The life I envision for myself has included you far longer than I ever realized. That includes you, no one else. So you didn't take away a life from me. You allowed me the opportunity and space to continue with mine...alongside yours." Michael confessed.

Love dripped from his words.

The singer looked down at her lips and second guessed himself.

Tatum couldn't believe what she was hearing. Nor was she believing her eyes.

There was no way, right?

Michael was in no way confessing his love for her, right?

Her eyes swelled with tears and a shy smile.

Tatum thought back to her birthday wish tonight and laughed at the stars and the moon.

To be chosen is to be loved. To be chosen is to be seen. I want to be chosen.

But not this.

Michael's heart began to sink as Tatum stared up at him without saying anything.

Tate gave a small smile before bringing Michael's hands to her mouth, pecking them a few times.

Tatum had spent the better part of two years finding her voice, her worth, & self esteem.

And as much as she deeply adored and cared for -- and quite frankly, loved this man. Her mind still wondered. It still worried. Her heart was unsure.

Tatum also knew that if he were to hear the words she wrote, produced, and recorded -- about him? He'd be devastated. He'd feel incredible guilt. He would feel in debt to her for what he put her through.

And she couldn't do that.

She couldn't allow himself to become hardened by guilt and past decisions.

Though Michael knew by now that she was stepping away from him. She was stepping out of his life once more.

Once again. And possibly for good.

The way he looked at her made her feel as though she mattered more than so. More than most. There was this unexplainable feeling deep within her.

The girl pulled him in closer, embracing him before pressing a long kiss to his cheek.

Tatum always knew she didn't want to be a part of a cliche.

And despite the words spoken tonight -- she couldn't shake the feeling of what could have come from this.

That would leave both of them in even more pain, which would create distant and then, undeniable distrust.

"Goodbye, Michael." She said softly, before grabbing her bag and walking out of that dressing room.

The peonies still lay on the counter.

Michael stayed still for a few minutes.

His mind, trying to piece together what had happened. And also, the past few years.

He walked out without a second thought.

The only thing left behind were the purple peonies he'd brought.

Now, a footnote in the chapter that now, ceased to exist.

hope you all enjoyed tehehhehe - blondie

more to come!

[equallyshaw]

before dawn. | thrad era! michael jackson x fem!reader.

ꕤ synospis: newly married couple, return home to Brentwood, los angeles after their european summer, wedding & honeymoon. as michael is deep into the making of his follow-up album to thriller, bad, michael receives a call from you, shaken and absolutely terrified of whoever had broken into the home you two shared. michael's own personal hell. & worst fear. ꕤ warnings: break in. violence. death threat. happy ending tho! ꕤ word count: 4.7k ꕤ masterlist.

2:32am.

that was on the clock when michael got the phone call from you, his wife. you two had just gotten back from the south of france, where you spent the better part of the month celebrating your honeymoon. as soon as you two arrived home, you went back to working as a teacher at a local preschool, hollywood school house, located in the heart of hollywood; as the new school year had just started. while you settled back into life, and work, as mrs.jackson - mrs.j ─ as your class called you, michael was getting back into the studio, recording his follow up album to thriller, entitled bad.

as you spent all the day at school, and then an hour after school with the local girl scouts troop, #454, michael spent time at the studio. as it neared dinner time, you two would either reunite at home, taking turns on who was cooking, or heading out to two personal staples ─ the polo lounge at the beverly hills hotel or chasen’s. then, after a few hours together, he'd help you tidy up, help you get ready for bed, kiss you one last time as you went to bed, and he went back to westlake studios.

you loved your husband. you adored him. you loved his passion, dedication, and the incredible hard work he was putting into his next record.

you and him made the schedule work, for the time being. which was a huge reason, why you spent the summer trapezing around europe before bidding each other i do, in Stockholm in late July, surrounded by your closest friends and family. before hopping over to southern france for a month, for your honeymoon.

tonight, though, was different.

after getting home from a troop meeting, you were greeted by an empty and silent home, in the community of brentwood.

which was located, on a good evening, 20 minutes away.

you had settled into the couch, catching up on the latest episode from season two of golden girls, with a takeout ramen and fried rice. after finishing off the rest of a slice of red velvet cake, you headed up the midcentury steps. taking your time to pull out the pins from your hair, and brushing through. your eyes softly hung open, as you inspected your still there ─ summer hew. making sure you didn't see any brown spots or sun spots, before softly grabbing the gold necklace michael had gifted you the night of your wedding.

he had had tiffany's make your birthstone and his, spinel, with a gold outline of small diamonds, surrounding the two gems. you smiled softly, thinking back to your wedding night.

the two of you out on the dance floor until around 1:30 am, underneath the bright sky, of midsummer. midsommar you had learned while traveling last summer with michael, that there are a few nights throughout the season of midsommar, where the night sky never fully turned dark.

you and him alone, dancing to frank sinatras, ive never been in love before, and, how deep is the ocean.

it was not long after that, when you two plopped onto the expensive sheets, when michael turned away from you, did he grab the small necklace box, the iconic blue box with white ribbon, and instead of laying back down - he sat up.

your eyebrows had creased, looking between him and the box, before sitting up yourself, your silk slip dress, strap falling down.

"mack..?," your voice trailed off sweetly and innocently.

the one nickname that had belonged to you and only you, in this universe.

michael's smiled fondly as you grabbed it from him. your hands softly but barely shook, as you hadn't ever received anything from tiffanys, nor had you certainly not brought anything from them.

your mouth fell open as you now looked at michael, and then back down at the birthstones.

you had always worn your tried and true necklace, of your birthstone, from your grandmother, for a decade plus. tears swelled in your eyes as you looked back to michael before your lip quivered.

it was something so small to cry about. but you had loved your stone, and had once spent one hour of a two hour date slot with michael, when he was touring, telling him all about his and yours. why its magical, spiritual, and personal to those who connect to them.

michael had ate it up.

he pulled it out of the box, before you turned away from him.

the gold necklace was cool against your warm, sun-loved skin.

you smiled down at it, pulling it between your thumb and index finger. "mack...," you said softly again as your turned towards him.

"honey bee...," you hummed before pulling him in for a kiss.

you smiled at yourself in the mirror, thinking of that night fondly before turning the bathroom light off and pulling back the light linen comforter.

you sighed, turning off the lamp next to your bed, a small light flickering on, a night light if you will. michael had put that in because you seemed to have to pee every two hours and had stubbed your toes and hit your shins, more times than he would have liked.

you had protested it and acted like a child, stating how embarrassing and pathetic it was for an adult to use it...he had high satisfaction when you grumbled one early morning about how it was useful the night before, and that maybe, just maybe it was beneficial. he had been smug behind his coffee mug.

you slid down the bed a bit, as you settled in for the night, and your eyes shut softly.

the bedroom window was open, screen locked, allowing in the animal sounds of the canyon behind your home. cicadas were humming, with the occasional sound of a small wild animal or howl were the only sounds heard for quite some time. the slight breeze of the santa monica mountains, lulled you to sleep.

─

2:32 am was on the clock at westlake studios. michaels eyes had begun to make things double, and the already dimmed lights were becoming too much.

he wanted to be home. sleeping. in bed. arms wrapped around you from behind.

quincy pressed play on the demo, and michael sighed, hearing the way you make me feel, for the umpteenth time that late night.

it was about 5 seconds in this time, when the phone rang, and quincy picked up.

his eyes widened, stilled. fear lacing them as he heard you on the phone.

quincys eyes found michaels and michael pulled the phone from him.

"michael?!" your worried tone, alerted michael immediately. his heart dropped.

why would you, of all people, be calling at 2:30 in the morning?

something was wrong. very wrong.

you had a class full of preschoolers at 9 am to be asleep for.

"honey?" michael questioned immediately. he had to be hearing things.

your voice shook, "michael, please come home, please! someone's broke into the house, i think- i think they're in the guest house right now...," your voice trailed off, and you jumped a bit.

you heard glass breaking downstairs. you knew your stained glass back door, which led into the kitchen, was broken through.

"where are you?" michael questioned as he stood up and snapped for bill to get the car ready. bill understood, running out of the studio.

"baby?" michaels voice was soft, but anxious. his voice broke as he waited on pins n needles for your response.

you had been listening through the walk-in closet door before shuffling backward toward the enclosed section where your formal gowns and custom suits hung. hidden behind a sliding door, it sat just deep enough inside the closet to conceal you from anyone taking only a quick glance.

quincy moved, calling 911 on the other phone.

"theyre in the house mack..." you covered your mouth trying to lessen the sound of your breath.

michael heard it, his heart dropping.

"stay there, were on our way. the police are coming." he said as quincy said it loud enough for him to hear.

you nodded, your eyes filling with tears.

michael began again, "i lo-," the line went dead.

your head snapped to the phone, as the corded phone ceased to work.

your lips quivered, your tears flling more now and your body shook from the silent sobs.

whoever had broken in, had cut the chord.

meaning whoever had done it, was closer than you thought.

you gulped. freezing. your ears heard footsteps on the wooden floor of your bedroom.

this is it. this is where i die, you thought. there's no way im surviving whatever they want.

you grabbed in one hand, one of michaels awards.

pathetic.

but the award was made of metal, and could ultimately be used as a weapon.

you had brought it into the bedroom, the night before, as you two talked about where it would end up.

option a, had been at the studio. b, in the office at the house. or c, with his mother, Katherine.

but now, it was being used for option d: attempt to hit hard enough, to survive long enough, until he police arrived.

the closet door opened, and you said a small prayer to whoever was up there.

god. relatives. spirirtual team. guides. anyone who could give a damn.

the intruder stepped into the closet. furthest from them on the left, stood a white vanity, with designer perfumes and makeup. a pink plush chair sat beneath it, with a silk robe hanging off the side of it. in the middle was a grand dresser with 6 drawers on either side. in the middle? jewelry. a midsize collection, that you had argued with michael about months ago.

you thought it should be kept in a safe, or in a trust, taken out from time to time.

michael had waved it off.

you had known better though.

another intruder stepped in, quickly beginning to seize the jewelry.

"she has to be here...we watched her come in." one of them spoke.

they had been watching you, you realized.

dread washed over you.

another pair of feet traveled in.

with another bang downstairs as more glass breaking.

"search the other side." one of them ordered as footsteps now traveled towards you.

the sliding door, opened, revealing designer dresses. floor length through mini. custom suit sets that matched michaels.

you frowned as your hand tightened around the award.

they flicked through the clothes before you stood up, and swung.

the tall man stumbled back as he grabbed the side of his head, another intruder stepping now, up to the dresses and when you went to go swing, they grabbed you instead.

pulling you out, as you thrashed, pushed, and screamed.

"NO!" your voice coming out strangled, but piercing.

you continued thrashing against the mans arms. he pulled you against him, his hands and arm snaking their way around your waist and right beneath your collarbones.

"youre gonna be quiet and sit pretty, or you're husband is going to come home to a quite gruesome scene..." the man trailed off, threatening you.

your blood ran cold, as a shiver ran down your back.

if only, the universe was on your side tonight -- would michael see you alive and safe.

you let out a whimper as more tears poured out.

─

across the town, michael and bill were inching close and closer, painfully.

each moment felt like hours, as bill raced through those streets with a police escort.

each moment was agonizing. antagonizing. terrifying.

michael had no idea whether he'd arrive home with the police outside, you wrapped in a blanket, safe and sound. or if he would be arriving to a crime scene.

a dead on arrival.

michael bit the inside of his cheek as he ran his hands through his curls, pulling at them, as bill tried to keep him steady.

he was failing, miserable.

if there was truly a god out there, michael thought, his wife would be alive by the time he arrived.

─

you stared down the other man, who you had hit, who was currently crying out at the pain.

"shut up!" the leader screamed as the four of them heard the police sirens in the near distance.

maybe 4 minutes out, you surmised.

you and michael lived ontop of the canyon, away and secluded from the rest of the mountain dwellers.

which on a good day, was a beautiful thing.

it afforded you two privacy, and intimiacy.

but now? gods cruelest punishment.

the twists and turns, winding streets -- uphill was a curse at this very moment.

"we leave now, get away before the police get us!" they explained.

the one that was holding you, tightened their grip on you, and more tears rolled out as you silently sobbed.

"the girl comes with us, theres no way-," the one holding you was cut off, "well no shit sherlock." the leader responded, mocking him.

the three men and you, made their way downstairs.

the midcentury stairs creaking beneath you.

your white silk slip dress, light enough, that the chill in the air was a bit much.

you shuddered a bit at now remembering what you were wearing.

damnit, you thought.

you began to fear the absolute worst if they were able to escape with you.

your eyes circled the living room beneath the steps.

vases. picture frames. fresh flowers.

broken.

you saw the backdoor, shattered.

the stained glass prickled the wood floor beneath it.

police sirens rang closer.

a minute out, you surmised.

the man holding you, you could feel, was getting nervous.

you could tell with the way his grip loosened just a bit, and the tension in his hands.

"move." he muttered to you as they began to make their way out the front door.

you took one last look at the last remaining photograph, still standing.

you and michael, your first date at spago on sunset blvd. 1983. almost 3 years ago now.

your eyes wept, seeing the photograph still standing.

and the smiles on your face, that you remember tito taking, quite vividly.

he was smitten with himself, he'd gotten proof, that michael jackson could in fact be happy.

you let out a small sob, as you stepped outside on the brick walkway, lining the front grass.

"move it!" the leader yelled as the police sirens were now on the block.

"run!" the leader screamed, and the man holding you, continued with their hold on you, as the two of you made your descent towards the canyon behind you.

"no! let me go -- please!" you begged ─ pleaded, as he pulled you along.

it was all a blur.

it was commotion.

yelling.

screaming.

blinding lights.

you had somehow gotten free from the man's hold and stumbled down the sloped backyard. heart pounding. the landscaping gradually gave way to the canyon below, each tier lined with flower beds, shrubs, and native greenery. near the edge of one terrace sat several oversized stone planters waiting to be planted. you squeezed yourself behind them, curling into the narrow space between the pots and the retaining wall.

you pulled your knees to you chest, whimpering softly, trying your best to cover and protect yourself.

it was a blur for michael as well.

who only arrived at the scene two minutes after the police and ambulance had.

bill tried desperately hard to pull him back, but he ran.

the police had no idea, where you were.

oh, he ran.

the police had gotten the intruders pinned down or in cuffs, as michael searched around in the house.

he screamed your name, his head whipping and circling around.

desperately, trying to find you. and failing.

he screamed your name, as hit feet hit the patio beneath the broken stained glass door.

"honeybee!" he yelled, head whipping around.

his heart plummeted more and more, with no sign from you.

he screamed your name once more as bill stepped out of the house.

michael looked at a loss of words, exasperated and beyond exhausted.

michaels head turned slowly, agonizingly slow, as he looked out at the canyon beneath him.

then up at the mountains.

he visibly winced at the thought of you running through the canyon with mountain lions, cacti, coyotes and rattlesnakes.

you were though, a native of the los angeles desert.

he knew that if anyone had to forge through these mountains and keep themselves alive for the night, you would be the one.

but he didn't want to believe it.

he couldn't.

the thought of you having to keep yourself alive, lost, in the mountains was something he didn't want to come true.

michaels feet took off anyways.

he began his descent towards the canyon below the house and the mountains above.

bill screamed after him.

he was a mad man.

an absolute fool, to think about going into the mountains alone. at night.

again, alone.

your chin was firmly tucked against your chest, as you rocked yourself back n fourth, on the soil filled sand, desert floor beneath you.

you and michael had yet to finish the backyard. more importantly, these very terraced flower and natural greenery beds.

and the reality of that, was painfully more noticeable tonight.

you heard footsteps coming closer and the sound of bill, filling the lower part of your backyard, near you.

your name was screamed.

that voice.

no, that tone was one you had never heard before.

nor, was the sound that came out of your husband one you hadn't heart before.

"honeybee!" he screamed, and your head finally perked up to the sound.

you saw a faint shadow before you, maybe half a mile, getting further and further from you.

your eyes widened.

no.

michael had thought you'd run into the mountains.

sure, you could be dumb, but you weren't that dumb.

yeah....you had graduated from girl scouts at the age of 16 after completing the program ─ but that doesn't mean you'd run into the mountains with your head cut off.

you had to get to him.

"honey..," your already soft voice gave out.

your throat was scratchy and hoarse from screaming before.

"michael!" you called out, quickly getting to your feet and beginning to run.

"michael!" you now screamed, your voice traveling through the santa monica canyon.

"michael!" you screamed again, tears streaming down your cheeks.

michael continued running.

bill stopped where he was, in the backyard, as he saw a figure run out before him.

you.

you screamed his name once more, your voice giving out completely now.

michael froze.

his mind had to be playing tricks on him.

there was no way your voice was traveling from behind him.

no, you had to be in the mountains.

had to be.

"honey-," your voice gave out again, your shout breaking halfway through.

michaels head whipped as he froze, and without a second to think, he ran.

he ran towards you with speed, bill had never seen before.

you two were running towards eachother.

tears were streaming out of you, just like michaels.

he called out your name once more.

you slowed up when you two were only a few feet apart, and without much delay ─ michael grabbed you.

he pulled you, so tightly that his arms felt like they were suffocating you.

he pulled you in before pulling back to inspect you and make sure you weren't hurt or bleeding.

you had dirt on your dress, as well as your cheek. your hair was disheveled. one strap was broken.

"honeybee, my love..." his voice trailed away softly as he pulled you back in.

he let out a choked sob, holding you.

his peace. his person. his wife.

the thought of seeing a sunrise through, without you seemed entirely unthinkable. criminal. unbearable.

his mind didnt trail off, as he felt your skin beneath him, grounding him into place.

your flesh and blood, albeit cold and quite shaken, was alive.

the worst thought that he had had, on the way here, wasn't coming true.

and he would do everything in his power to make sure that it, would never come true.

he lowered you two to the grass beneath you two, his legs spread out as you curled into him.

you sobbed into your husband's chest, and the weight of the night fell upon you.

the adrenaline you had had for more than half an hour now, and the heartbeat you had heard in your temple, wavered and broke completely

you felt lifeless in your husband's arms.

your body became slack.

your breathing and pulse slowed.

michael pulled his head back a little bit, to make sure you were ok, as your sobs lessened and you became still.

"honey...?" he questioned softly, and you let out a small, mmm.

he pulled your cheeks in his hands, your eyes pouring into one another.

he searched your soft and exhausted eyes, closely.

he saw movement behind you, in his peripheral vision.

he said your name softly, and you nodded, his name rolling off his tongue like a question.

"im okay..i promise." you slurred, your eyes shutting softly.

your breath became shallow just before your head rolled back, unconsciously.

michaels eyes widened, screaming your name now, as the paramedics lowered you onto your back.

─

the clock read 5:04 am.

your head pounded as you awoke; the plush sheets beneath you were soft on your skin.

your hand reached out, searching for something to cling to before you opened your eyes.

sunlight softly peaked through the white curtains next to you, on your right.

you were certaintly not in your home. nor, were you in the hospital.

you were at the Franks', next door. a young couple like yourselves, who were pregnant with their first child. natasha, who had taken you under her wing the moment you and michael had moved in next door, almost a year ago now.

the two of them had become two of your guys' closest confidants in the city. opening up their home for normalcy, warmth, and privacy.

you and the wife had bonded over the fact that you both were caregivers, you as a preschool teacher starting off the next generation's educational journey, and she, a professional nanny & house manager, which is how she had met her husband.

you were in one of the guestrooms, you and michael had flocked to, during some home renovations and nights where you drank too much, to even think about stumbling back home, damn near, less than 20 feet from their back door to yours.

you sat up now, pulling the light comforter back and standing up. you stretched a bit before taking the soft robe from the edge of the bed and throwing it on. you hadn't realized that you now wore a new and clean pajamas.

a cotton long sleeve and pants.

then without a second thought, you turned towards the mirror on the wall above the vanity.

michael sat outside the door, drinking a fresh cup of coffee, that marcus had just brought up, when he heard footsteps and a soft gasp.

then a whimper.

when everything had flashed back, for you.

he quickly moved towards you, opening the door quickly but not too quickly. attempting to not scare you.

your husbands eyes found yours as tears threatened to fall.

your name on his breath, as he pulled you into his chest, moving the two of you quickly towards the bed.

you curled into him, soft sobs stripped from you.

the night continued to flash through your mind, ceasing to pause, only when you reopened your eyes.

michaels eyes traced your face, the way your lips parted, quivering, and the bruising that lined your cheekbone on one side and another on your temple on the other side.

your eyes drenched with tears, as you tried to control your breath.

michael helped you mimic his, trying to ground you back to reality.

you were not inside the bedroom you two shared. you were not in the living room, seeing the picture from spago, before you were pulled outside. and you were most certainly not looking out at the canyon and mountains beyond, figuring out where to hide.

you were here. with your husband. safe. held. and protected.

"mack...?" your voice poured out softly and insecurely.

your eyes, almost childlike as you looked up at him.

michaels heart absolutely broke.

"you're okay, i promise ─ you're safe. i've got you, honeybee," he breathed, pulling your head into his chest. his hands cradled your body and head.

softly. he believed he'd break you if he held you any tighter.

"youre safe...ive got you." he whispered softly, attempting to reassure you.

but it would be months until you truly trusted your surroundings and the feeling of safety.

"you didn't─ you didn't tell me...you forgot to tell me where you were last night...," you trailed off, remembering what had happened earlier in the night.

your mind was pulling pieces together.

your husbands eyebrows creased, before he realized.

you were right. he had forgotten to leave a note or message or to have bill ring you, that he would be at the studio late and would miss dinner.

"im sorry my lo─," you cut him off, pulling back from his chest now.

he saw the way your eyes were replaying the events of last night. starting from the very beginning.

"around one, i could have sworn you came home," you paused looking up at him.

"i thought you had come home then...so i didn't think anything of it. there were noises outside, and then silence and i could have sworn it was you...," you trailed off, remembering more.

"and then around 2:30, i heard a bang outside, i stood up looking and saw movement in the guest house...and then i called you and─," your voice fell.

in a softer voice, terror plaguing your very words, "what happened to them?" you questioned. them, was laced with darkness.

you looked back up at michael who sighed, "they were all arrested. they're being prosecuted, but they aren't leaving jail until they're arraigned. but my lawyer and bill said they won't be going home.. so they have no way of hurting you or coming back, ok?" he said slowly but surely.

you nodded softly before looking away and then at the ground.

"i thought...i thought..when they took me from the closet, they threatened to kill me michael...and the way they touched me and pulled at my dress...i thought they were going to do much, much more," you paused to swallow.

michael.

you never used his full name like that.

and he didn't like the reasoning behind it, nor did he like the tone.

fear.

unrelenting fear.

and michael did not like that one bit.

his blood ran hot at what you said.

breaking in, was one thing.

putting hands on you? threatening you with emotional and psychological pain?

there would be no lengths michael would cease to go, when it came to you.

those men would pay.

for everything they stole that night, from you.

michael slowly turned your chin towards him, and so now you were both looking at one another.

"I never want to feel that way again michael...never again." you stated, your voice giving out at the end.

michael would do everything in his power and privilege to make sure that it never happened again.

he nodded once.

his jaw set. his lips pressed firmly against each other. his eyes dark.

you pulled him in for a deep kiss.

his arms tightened around your figure, briefly.

you pulled away before giving him a quick peck before standing up.

michael watched as you walked out of the bedroom and down the soft stairs, as the smell of breakfast swirled through the house. cinnamon and brown sugar following.

michael stood up, pulling back the curtains, and looked out at the santa monica mountains before him. the sun was beginning to peak out from behind.

in a matter of seconds, his life flashed before his eyes.

in a matter of seconds, his purpose and saving grace coupled with the possibility of them ceasing to exist, settled in deeply; enroaching his very bones.

in a matter of seconds, the canyons that he found the most solace and tranquility had become his absolute worst nightmare.

he had always known from you and the natives of los angeles, who he had crossed paths with, had always said that the canyons in this land can be a symbol of pain, isolation, and death.

that the terrain can be unforgiving and can kill within mere breaths.

that stark reality became all too real for a moment.

all before dawn.

Hope you all enjoyed —if you did, please feel free to comment and/or reblog. Much appreciated xx

[humannaturess]

Jaafar and Nia at the BETAwards today

[equallyshaw]

GNAWING AT THE BARS INSIDE OF MY ENCLOSURE FUCKKK

[equallyshaw]

no new stories this week! grad school kicking my butt. (in my last semester of internship + msw in social work...) AND this weekend has NOT gone to plan, so im playing ketchup! hopefully this upcoming weekend xx

[wtvrhappens]

thinking thoughts.

thoughts being thought.

[delavegaaaaa]

“You can’t fix him” I don’t wanna fix him! I wanna FUCK him! I’m a pervert not a psychologist!

[equallyshaw]

YOU'RE FUCKING UP THE BRAND has to be the top 10 vocal stim of all time--- i yelled it damn near 20 times in traffic today...over a period of 3 hours lmao

[humannaturess]

𝐂𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏 — 𝐉𝐀𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐒𝐎𝐍

Texting your boyfriend Jaafar who's looking a lil too good in those pants.

taglist: @ruesredjacket @4ppl3h34d @tinydreamerpillar @delictezz @heartsforamari19 @sugarrushbell @bangchanunofficial @swavydadon @nayykura @plan3tch1ld @unseenleylinesecret @niyahctrl @animegamerfox @raefoxiegirl @applehead-luvr @a-motherfcking-fish @michaelsgirlie @sebbysbaby @helalokithor @poetsprey @60fspp

if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know <3

[equallyshaw]

fuUCK