I’ve been wanting to get my hands on a set of these pins for a while now, but unfortunately, due to some financial and family struggles, I wasn’t able to grab them when they were first available. Things are finally looking up, and I’m now in a position where I can buy them! 💖
If anyone has a set and is willing to part with them, I’d be so grateful! Even if you can’t help, sharing or spreading the word would mean the world to me.
Thank you so much for taking the time to read this, and for any help you can offer! 🙏💫
Or does anyone have an extra Havve from the Starlight Birgaide set? He fell off my backpack, and I never found him 😭😭
Synopsis: A rare kid-free night, a few too many drinks, and Michael's birthday celebration at the Orpheum. As the night spirals into unexpected chaos, one thing never changes: no matter how tipsy they get, Michael always takes care of her, and that's exactly why she'll never stop loving him.
It had been a long time since it was just you and Michael.
Not because either of you didn't want date nights but because somewhere between school pickups, bedtime stories, and three little humans who had somehow become the center of your universe, nights alone together had become rare. You wouldn't trade your family for anything. The chaos, the noise, the sticky fingerprints on every surface it was your favorite life.
Still, when your mother arrived that morning and shooed the two of you out the door with strict instructions not to check your phones every five minutes, you felt almost giddy.
Michael looked ridiculously handsome standing by the front door, one hand in his pocket while he waited for you to finish getting ready. The same man you'd fallen in love with years ago. The same man who still kissed your forehead every morning before the kids woke up. The same man who carried sleeping toddlers upstairs without complaint and somehow never forgot your coffee order.
Tonight, though, he wasn't Dad. Tonight, he was just Michael.
And it was his birthday.
Birthdays hadn't meant much to him growing up. As a Jehovah's Witness, celebrations like that simply weren't part of his childhood. When you'd first met him, he'd shrugged off birthdays entirely, insisting they were just another day.
You'd spent years proving him wrong.
Not by forcing anything on him, but by showing him how much joy could exist in celebrating the people you loved. Every birthday cake, every Christmas morning, every holiday movie marathon with the kids piled on top of both of you had slowly chipped away at old beliefs and made room for new traditions.
Now Michael secretly loved birthdays almost as much as you did. Though he'd never admit it. This year was special.
A fan-organized celebration was being held at the Orpheum where Michael was also being honored for his contributions and career. Officially, he planned to stop by for a few minutes, say hello, thank everyone, and leave.
That had been the plan.
The problem was that someone had handed the two of you drinks. Then someone else had handed you more drinks.
And somewhere between laughing with fans, dancing to music neither of you could remember choosing, and Michael pretending not to enjoy being celebrated, things had gotten... slightly out of hand.
Exactly how the two of you ended up standing on stage with a microphone while the crowd cheered your names was a story for another day.
The Orpheum Theater glowed under soft stage lights as Michael stood at the podium, his voice steady while he addressed the crowd. "We celebrate the imagination," he said, the words carrying warmly through the room.
You leaned into the microphone beside him and added, "Of me and you, Mike." The audience laughed and clapped. Michael’s face flushed pink, his shy smile breaking through as he looked down at his shoes and rubbed the back of the mic up his face giggling.
What mattered right now was the feeling of Michael's arm wrapped securely around your waist as you swayed beside him, both of you pleasantly tipsy. Because no matter how much either of you drank, Michael always had you. Always.
His hand never left yours in crowded rooms. His eyes always found you first. His instinct was still to pull you closer whenever someone bumped into you. And watching him grin at the crowd before immediately turning to make sure you were steady on your feet made your heart ache in the best way.Thirty-five years old. Three kids at home. A husband who looked at you like you hung the moon. Yeah. You were definitely still hopelessly in love with Michael.
The party moved to Neverland, the ballroom alive with music and dancing beneath enormous chandeliers. You went to your wardrobe and changed into a risqué brown top and jeans set. Michael had changed as well into all black shirt, trousers, jacket, his hair slightly messy, his smile relaxed from the drinks. You were drunker, flushed and grinning, one arm looped over his shoulder while your other hand rested on the back of his neck. You leaned against him, your cheek on his shoulder as you whispered close to his ear. "I can't wait until everyone leaves so I can get on my knees for you." Your breath warmed his skin while you added, "I want to taste you and make you feel good." You gave his chest a light touch, murmuring, "Just a little longer and it'll be only us."
"Thank you all for coming tonight," Michael began, trying to stay on track. The crowd cheered. You pressed a soft kiss against his neck. Michael stopped mid-sentence, his words lost. The audience noticed immediately and the cheering doubled.
"Oh, come on," someone shouted.
"Baby," he muttered.
"What?"
"What are you doing?"
"Loving my husband," you replied, perfectly innocent.
"You know exactly what you're doing," he whispered, but his voice was half laughter, half surrender.
"You are unbelievable," he muttered, the blush creeping across his cheeks.
"Am I?" you asked, your voice teasing and warm. "I’m just celebrating with you."
Michael wrapped an arm around your waist, steadying you, his hand sliding naturally to rest there. "Careful," he murmured.
"I'm okay," you said, brushing your hair back.
"I know you're okay."
Your eyes sparkled. "Then why do you look like you're plotting revenge?"
Michael could only grin. He loved that about you. Always mischievous. Always affectionate. Always him in trouble.
Several hours later the house had emptied. The kids were with the grandparents, the staff had gone home, and only security remained outside. You and Michael were alone in the main room. You climbed onto his lap on the couch, your mouths meeting in a heated, messy kiss. Your hips rolled slowly, grinding and bouncing against the growing bulge in his pants while his hands gripped your waist.
You slid off his lap and kissed down his chest, then his stomach, until you knelt between his spread legs. Your fingers worked his belt open and pulled his cock free. You wrapped your lips around the head, sucking gently at first before taking more of him with each bob of your head. Spit coated his shaft as you pushed deeper, your throat relaxing until your nose pressed against his skin. You held there, gagging softly around his length, eyes watering but locked on his face.
Michael’s hand rested on the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. You pulled back just enough to breathe, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock, then sank down again, taking him fully into his throat. Your cheeks hollowed with each slow suck. You moaned around him, the sound wet and needy, completely lost in the rhythm.
"Happy birthday, baby," you mumbled around his cock, voice thick and sappy before you pushed down once more, swallowing him to the base and holding there as tears slipped from the corners of your eyes. Michael groaned above you, his hips twitching slightly while you stayed cock-drunk and happy on your knees, sucking him with steady, devoted strokes. Hell you could fall asleep down there.
