Summary: See what happens when 2 exes bump into each other after 3 years at Wimbledon
WC: 1.2k I think
Warnings: Exes to lovers, these fools broke up over BS, they get back together, allusion to her finna get broken through that mattress, not an OC his nickname for her is just cherry
Your close friend Tiffany asked if you wanted to go to the Wimbledon match with her today, and your answer was an automatic yes. You would be a fool not to go. You had a plan to look your absolute best, get some content to post, watch a match, and maybe, just maybe, meet a man or two. Bumping into your ex was not on your damn bingo sheet. So imagine your surprise when you're walking with Tiffany, looking to your right, and there he is, looking the way he does. Finally making eye contact with you, he stops his conversation, excusing himself to the person he was talking to, making his way over to you.
Tiffany starts slapping you on the shoulder: â Girrrll, your man is coming over here, and he looks goodâ. Straightening out your clothes in a hurried fashion, you turn to her: â First, he is not my man and has not been in 3 years, and second, I am not worried about him at all. Now, how do I look?ââ
Hearing someone clear their throat, pausing in your bickering, you see your ex- fiance standing there in front of you with his hands in his pockets. âWow, Cherry, you look just wow,â folding your arms. âJaafar, you look quite handsome yourselfâ. Nodding his head, he takes a glance around, then back to you, âYeah, it's been a while since we've seen each otherâ. âYeah, Jaafar, thatâs what happens when two people break off an engagementâ. He sighs, messing with his shades.â
Sighing, â Jaafar, listen: what we had was fun, but itâs over; weâre not together anymore for a reason,â going to walk away but gently grabs her wrist. Looking over at Tiffany, âCould you give us a few minutes?â She looks at you: âScream if you have to, and Iâll cut him; I don't care how big his booty is,â and you stare at her with your head tilted. âTif- yeah, it's fine, just go.â She walks away .
â Listen cherry I miss you-â cutting him off, â Jaafar, I don't want to hear that, dudeâ. Gently grabbing both of her wrists, âWoman, please, will you just listen to me for once? This is why we splitâ
âNo, we split sir, because we just didnât workâ. âSee, I donât believe that these past three years of my life have been miserable without you, baby. I miss my woman.ââ
Removing his hands from around your wrist, âOkay, we can talk after, just not right now,â putting a hand on his shoulder and letting it trail down, you turn to leave.
Jaafar looks up at you from his seat, now smirking, âWell, isnât this just fate for us, Cherry?â Sitting down in the seat next to him, you heard Tiffany cackling in your ear. With a raised eyebrow and a quirked lip, you point a finger at him, shake your head, and proceed to turn away.
âNope, I said talk after, so weâre talking afterâ. He rests his left arm around the back of your seat and looks at you: â I think this is the perfect time- I really did miss you, mama; we- no, I shouldâve fought more to keep youâ. You go to speak, but you're cut off, hearing everything begin, you put your hand on his thigh, patting it.
The point that was in play is now over you and jaafar were itching to continue the conversation from earlier. You lean over to whisper, âCome on, let's go talkâ. Walking without waiting for him to follow, because the way it was looking, you had a feeling you were getting your man back. He was single and begging for you, and you missed him, so yeah, youâre getting him back. Checking your mini mirror to make sure you still looked good, you didn't hear him walk up behind you.
âCherry,â you gasp, â Jaaf yeah, umm.â âI can't sit here and lie and say I haven't missed you as well, but I don't want to be how we were when we broke up,â Â putting your hands on your face, laughing.
âFor three years straight..â You inhaled deeply before letting it out slowly. âI pretended not to think or be bothered by not having you anymore, but youâre right, I canât do it anymoreâ.
Youâre not paying attention, pouring your heart out before you feel a pair of pillowy lips against yours. You both stand there for a moment, reconnecting through the intimacy of kissing, pouring your longing from the past years into each other. You separate to catch air and laugh as you wipe his bottom lip. His hands are holding your face, and yours are holding onto his neck. âYou know, if you wanted me to shush forehead, you could have just said that.â
He laughs, âMama, you should be the last person to speak on foreheads.â âYeah, yeah, whatever mr.dumptruckâ. He stares at you: âToo far, no butt jokesâ. You laugh, letting go of him reaching for your purse to grab your phone. Putting up a finger to signal one minute to him as he looks confused, you take your phone and start typing. âSo weâre really trying this thing over again?â
He nods, âYeah, we are, and weâre going to be mature and communicate and not run at the first sign because I can't imagine life with anyone elseâ.
âWell, in that case, you should check your messages.â Walking backwards, you wave your phone towards him. âWhy ,what did you send me?â he looks at his phone. âYou sent an addressâ. With your back now facing him, you call over your shoulder, âItâs my hotel address, and if you're not there in the next 30 minutes, Iâll definitely already be started before you â. Jaafar grabs his keys and runs to the valet area to beat you to the hotel. Looking down at the text you sent to his phone, cheesing because he got his woman back, and this time he wasn't letting her go.
Cherry Pieđ: 423 Stewart Lane. See you soon.
Outer Galaxy Space Agents
Tags- @mamasturns @mamasturn @swavydadon @niyahctrl @neighbourscat @melaninjoys @darkseidex @mouthfullofrocki @moodymp4 @multifandomposts-blog @callmeoncette @cherrishkissed @faiology @angelfacediary @esioleren @allth3stars @sintizc @yourleogf @narratedillusions @alohaluz @bawdylanguageee @prettyangeliczz @maczken @aristoleyaferrarii (let me know if anyone wants to be removed)
. ĘË SUMMARY .á You're an established supermodel and amateur actress in a secret relationship with Michael. His company doesn't want your relationship to go public, but when you see him take Brooke Shields to the Grammy's as his date, you decide to give Michael a taste of his own medicine.
. ĘË AUTHOR'S NOTE .á Brief mentions of strict eating habits. I'm tired, so the punctuation is probably ass, but at least it's not AI! Also "Just Like Me" by Summer Walker inspired the title!:)
The Separation .á
Studio 54 was a getaway for you and Michael. The thumping bass and electric energy broke any barriers that may exist between people in the outside world, everyone was just here for a good time.
When Michael first brought you, it took you some time to loosen up, being in a new environment, but after a few shots, you were both dancing and giggling to the music together, sure it would look like you were dancing to different beats, but you were dancing together nonetheless.
When a couple drag queens come up to you both, asking to dance with Michael, you figure itâs the perfect opportunity to step away and grab a bottle of water.
"We not good enough for you, honey?" Cupcake, a drag queen, famous at the club, questions sassily.
"Cupcake, stop playin with me. You know Mike can dance all night, I need a break," You tease one another, before kissing each other's cheeks and stepping away.
You pass by Bill, Michaelâs chauffeur, and pick up your purse, before reaching the bar.
"Can I just get a water?" You ask, when the bartender makes her way to you.
Quickly she reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a cold water bottle.
"Thank you, add it to Mike's tab." You add before taking a seat and grabbing a napkin from the counter.
Taking a breath, you reach into your bag and pull out a compact mirror to look at yourself while dabbing your face with the napkin.
"Hey beautiful," You hear as you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders from the side, in a friendly manner, looking up from your seat you see Denzel Washington. A new friend of yours who you met one late night while looking for Michael at the club.
"Denzel! How are you?" You smile, a bit enthusiastic due to the alcohol in your system.
"Good, I was wondering if I'd see you here tonight. I saw you and Mike dancing." He says, chuckling kindly.
You start laughing, as he pulls a chair close to you. "He's been wanting to come! I love coming too but lord, I can't keep up with him. When Cupcake came up to us I figured it was my chance to take a break." You smile, as he leans in slightly to hear you over the music.
"O'cmon, I've seen you, you seem like you could go all night. I saw yaâll both doing the robot in a dance circle last time I was here."
"Nooo, you didn't see that," You smile covering your face, embarrassed, before continuing, "I definitely had too many drinks that night, and it wasnât as good as you make it seem." You laugh, the drinks in your system making you friendlier than normal.
From the distance, Michael sees you and Denzel leaning into one another's frames, talking and laughing. Michael isn't an idiot, he can tell Denzel has a crush on you, and seeing you so closely together, his mood immediately changes. Slowly he steps away from his friends and Latoya quickly glances at him before noticing where heâs looking.
She quickly walks up to him, "They're just talkin Mike."
"Yeah, whatever." He quickly begins making his way through the crowd to you.
While Michael and Latoya make their way towards you both, Denzel attempts to make a move on you.
"Hey, I mean you made it look good." He smiles, "You look beautiful tonight by the way."
You try to remain polite, forcing a smile as you begin glancing around for Michael. Not able to see him, you glance back at Denzel, "Thank you." You respond simply.
Conflicted by your reaction, Denzel decides to be forward, allowing you to accept or reject his advances.
"Look, award season is around the corner, and I'm nominated for a few different categories. My label is trying to get me to bring a date, and you were the first person I could think of asking.â Would you like to go with me to the the Oscars?"
With perfect timing, Michael shows up in your line of sight and quickly places his hand on your shoulder, in a friendly but possessive manner. He glances up at Denzel as if taken off guard by hiss presence, despite intentionally approaching you both.
"Hey Denzel, what's up, man?" Michael greets him, as Denzel stands and they dap each other up.
"Hey Mike, man. How are you?" Denzel responds, attempting to hide his frustration.
"'m good. Hope you don't mind, I need to steal my homegirl." He responds, as your teeth clench in restraint as you bite back a quick retort.
The unfortunate part about being with Michael was that despite so many people seeing you together, you had to deny any romantic relationship with one another. Of course, some people figured there was something romantic between the two of you, since you were stuck to each other's hips.
But the lack of physical affection, was also able to convince many that you were indeed âbest friendsâ like the two of you claimed. Michael made it clear that his label didn't want him to be in a public relationship, therefore when you went out together there were boundaries, including no pda.
While initially this frustrated you, you understood that you and Michael had gotten together just as his solo career was beginning to take off. So, you agreed to their terms out of fear of being perceived as using him. Sure, you were a top runway model, but Michael's career was at another level. You didn't want people to think you were trying to benefit from his image.
Despite your attempt at being understanding, you couldn't help the silence you met Michael with on your way to the car. Realizing the tension between you and Michael, Latoya quickly decides to stay at the club with one of their brothers.
As Michael holds the door open for you both and shuts it behind himself you can't help pressing him, "I didn't know I was just your homegirl now."
Michael, huffs in frustration, "You know I didn't mean it like that."
You roll your eyes, attempting to move slightly away from him, before he moves closer to you and attempts to hold your hand before you pull it away. "How'd you mean it then?"
"Baby, you know I can't just go callin you my lady in public. I didn't think about it before saying it.â
You huff a sigh as he grabs your chin and turns you to face him before pulling you in for a chaste kiss. "Forgive me." He says gazing into your eyes, inches away from your face.
You gently remove his hand from your face before leaning back in your seat and glancing out the window. "Whatever,â you reply, as he pulls your hand back in his.Â
A few moments pass before Michael bites his lip and begins playing with your fingers nervously, "So, what were ya'll talkin about?"
You can't help smiling softly, you knew Michael would adamantly deny being the jealous type, but when it came to men flirting with you, you could tell when he was bothered.
"He asked me out." You admit immediately, not looking at him.
Michael's fidgeting with your hand stops, as you continue looking out the window.
"You were smiling a lot for him to be asking you out, wha'd you say?" He says, resuming his fiddling with your hands, thoughtlessly.
"I didn't say anything, you got there just in time." You reply simply, finally glancing back at him, gauging his reaction.
"Good, I know he was mad." He smiles, biting his lip and you can't help giggling softly.
"You're so dumb."
The thing about your relationship with Michael is that you both hated confrontation, the good thing is that he knew exactly how to lower your guards. He knew you were quick to reciprocate his energy and if he remained calm then you would too. You both loved how easy and peaceful your love felt.
You quickly began leaning onto one another, giggling. As you both look outside the windows together, Michael sees his favorite convenience store, that has his favorite niche brand of orange juice and leans forwards. He quickly slides back the window divider and asks Bill to pull over at the store.
"Do you want something, mama?" He asks, leaning back, glancing at you.
"I can't" You sigh, "I have that show coming up, I need to be careful with what I eat." You lean your head onto his shoulder, pouting.
He kisses the top of your head sympathetically. "You've been doing really good, a small snack won't hurt." He says, as the car stops in the back of the store's parking lot.
"C'mon, let's go look. You don't have to get anything if you don't want, but a bite won't hurt none either."
Before you head inside, you throw on a cap and Michael throws on a hoodie from the back seat of the vehicle, which he always keeps on hand for last minute outings.
The store run was quick, and isn't an odd occurrence for you two. Afterwards, you both head to Hayvenhurst where you stay the night.
The morning after, you and Michael wake up to his landline ringing. He slowly unwraps himself from your hold onto one another and mumbles a raspy greeting.
You glance at the clock, it's 8am. Before glancing back at Michael. He begins sitting up on the edge of the bed, humming.
"Okay." He sighs. The room is silent, besides his shuffling movements.
"I understand." He mumbles, seemingly frustrated, before slightly raising his voice, "Alright manâ it won't happen again."
He immediately hangs the phone back on its receiver.
"What happened?" You ask, sitting up against the headboard, while Michael remains on the edge of the bed, facing away from you.
He's quiet for a moment, "There are newspapers going around with photos of us from last night, at the convenience store."
You hum, adjusting yourself on your knees behind Michael, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before placing a peck on his shoulder. "We knew it was gonna get out sooner or later right?"
You rest your head on his back, arms moving to wrap around his stomach from behind. Grogginess, keeping you from considering his responses during the phone call.
He awkwardly coughs, clearing his throat, before remaining quiet, considering his words carefully.
"John said we need to be more careful, he doesn't want us going out together in public for a while." He suggests, mentioning his manager.
You slowly pull away, eyebrows furrowing in shock. You had been in a relationship for over a year, you thought you had earned some semblance of respect and authority in your relationship. Michael's position on the matter seems clear, he must agree with their opinion
"Is that what you want?" You ask softly, staring at his slumped figure, as he continues facing away from you, avoiding eye contact.
The silence is lingering, as he simply doesn't respond, his eyes shutting as he lowers his head to rest on his hands.
You nod to yourself slowly, and begin gathering yourself together before leaving quietly.
Michael didn't want to hurt you, but when the conversation of your relationship arose in meetings, he understood where his team was coming from. As horrible as it may seem, Michael knew you didn't match him in status. Sure, you were a supermodel, and did amazing in that facet of your career, but your acting skills weren't up to par. You were criticized often in the public eye for only being a pretty face.
When his team discussed your image, they said that any negative discussion directed towards you would naturally be placed onto Michael. They figured since the 'Thriller' album was doing so well, they shouldn't entertain any discussion of Michael being in a relationship with a c list actress.
Unfortunately, Michael prioritizes his career over almost everything in his life, in his mind, not telling you that your negative image is what is keeping him from going public with you, is him protecting you. He figures what he doesnât tell you canât hurt you.
What Michael doesnât know is that youâre fully aware of what critics are saying about your acting skills and that you were actively taking acting classes now, to help you improve yourself.
It was initially supposed to be a surprise, you wanted to prove yourself to your boyfriend. You know how hard working and successful Michael is and figured, he would be excited for you when you got accepted in a blockbuster horror film, after taking acting classes. Yet, when you got the call confirming you got the role, you decided to not mention it to him.
Things hadn't been the same after his phone call with John Branca. He seemed distant, and while it wasn't unusual for you to go some time without a proper conversation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this time was different.
You never had a proper conversation about their call or how you both felt, so the tension felt lingering when you did speak to one another. While you typically appreciated how you both avoided confrontation, in moments like this when it built distance between you two, you can't help feeling resentful about how passive you both are.
A few days turned into a week and a half.
You knew that Michael was nominated for multiple grammy's and despite the distance between you two, you tried to contact him beforehand, wanting to bask in the moment with him in any way you could.
When he didn't pick up your phone call, you were hurt, but convinced yourself that he must've been incredibly busy preparing for the award show. Since you couldn't be with him, you decided to surprise him and wait for him at Hayvenhurst.
You were seated on his bed, in his pajamas, when you noticed Brooke Shields was seated beside him. He brought her as his date.
You never heard Michael even mention her. Sure, Michael had plenty of friends in the industry and he didn't need to explain any of them to you, but you both knew what him showing up with her meant. Michael was a very meticulous person, if he brought her as his date it could only mean one thing.
He wanted people to think they were together.
Watching Michael break the record for the most nominations and awards received in a single night feels bittersweet. The man you love is being celebrated for something he worked tirelessly for, but at his side is another woman.
You sit for the entirety of the award show in tears, considering how you want to react when he arrives, but your rational side is thrown out the window when he enters the room. Youâre pacing his room, face puffy, when he enters. People are a few steps behind him talking, when he sees you and his smile fades.
The people helping him carry his awards are disregarded as he shakes his head at them and quickly shuts his bedroom door, before setting down the two awards he was holding onto his nightstand. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches you, as you pace, biting your lip, in an attempt to focus on anything besides your blurrying vision.
Finally you stop pacing and grab his award softly, looking at it. "Congratulations," Your voice cracks.
Michael's eyebrows furrow, as he sees you struggling to hold yourself together, but restrains himself from reaching for you, attempting to give you space.
You sigh, as tears stain your cheeks, and you gently place the award back on the nightstand before walking to his dresser. You finally look at him, as you lean back onto it.
"Whyâd you take her as your date?" Your voice remains steady, as tears continue falling and you wipe them away.
"John thought it would be a good idea to bring a date. We ended up deciding I would ask Brooke."
You can't help scoffing, "Instead of your girlfriend?"
"They thought it'd be best"
You can't help rolling your eyes and raising your voice, "Michael, can you take some responsibility? You're a grown man! You have a say, stop using your team as a way out."
His eyebrows furrow in confusion at your raised voice, you had never yelled at him before.
He looks at the floor, nodding slowly, "I thought it'd be best."
"Why?" You plead, wanting a genuine answer for once.
"John doesn't think you have the best image." His eyebrows scrunch together, embarrassed.
"What are you talking about? I've never been on the front page of a magazine for my private life until you." You can't help scoffing.
Michael covers his face, slowly sliding them down in exasperation before leaning on his elbows, which rest on his knees. He is slouched over on the edge of the bed.
"It's the acting roles you've been doing, people say they just haven't really beenâ the best." He says, avoiding eye contact.
"Are you kidding me right now? That's what this is about." You begin connecting the dots. Michael was okay being seen out with women in public, taking photos. Just not you. You didn't fit into his picture perfect life.
"You just don't think I'm good enough for you," You mumble to yourself.
"That's not what I said," He stands, approaching you, attempting to touch your waist, before you pull away.
You take a step away from him before folding your arms underneath your chest, and dropping them quickly. You don't want to look as small as you feel right now. "You know, even though things haven't been the best between us the past few days, I called you." Your voice trembles.
"I figured it's Michael's big day, I need to put our problems aside. I was so sad I couldn't be there with you. Not because I needed to be seen with Michael Jackson, but because I knew you would break records tonight." You can't help glancing at the ground and shaking your head in disbelief.
You slowly continue, despite your voice cracking, "I never doubted you for a second. I just wish you believed in me too."
Michael is facing you directly, wanting more than anything to hold you, as his vision becomes blurry. "I'm sorry, I was wrong, I see that now. You didn't deserve that. It's just hard." He struggles to find the right words.
"It's hard?" You can't help raising your voice, "What part was hard, Michael?" You ask, as he flinches in embarrassment. You point at the television, voice never faltering, "Cause from here, it looked pretty easy.â Was it hard asking her out? Was it hard sitting beside a pretty girl all night? Was it hard accepting every award, while I was at home, in tears?"
You scoff, "Oh I know, maybe it was hard thinking about the possibility of ever needing to be seen with me. You know what, you're right. It must've been so hard lying to me in the meantime."
In tears, Michael shakes his head, "I never lied,â I never lied to you. Everything with you was real, especially my feelings."
"Intentionally withholding the truth, is lying to me. You went with her and didnât tell me. And your feelings for me mean nothing if they don't come hand and hand with respect."
Michael's eyebrows furrow in frustration, "I never said I don't respect you, you keep puttin words in my mouth.â I did wrong, I know I did. I shouldn't have taken her. I shouldâve gone public with you, but don't make it seem like I'm this evil person."
He pleads, continuing, "I never meant to hurt you, that's why I didn't wanna tell you I was goin with her or what they were saying about your acting ."
You roll your eyes, "You aren't getting it. If you can be in a room where people are talking about me and you donât feel the need to defend me, then you don't respect me."
You shake your head, pointing outside the bedroom door, as your voice trembles." I don't care what anyone else has'ta say about me. I know what the media is sayin about me, trust me. I just thought if anyone would be on my side it was you."
Michael takes a step closer to you, and you allow him too, as he takes hold of your hand, fidgeting with it. "I am on your side. But I understand, baby, I did wrong. I'm sorry, really."
You give yourself a moment of comfort and allow Michael to play with your hands before you gently pull away altogether.
"I donât forgive you." You simply whisper in return, biting your lip.
You begin turning around and gathering your items that you had slowly left over at Michaelâs over the year and a half that you have been together.
He remains hot on your heels, "C'mon, work with me here.â He pleads, â I said I'm sorry, really I mean it.â I'll tell them that we're gonna go public, I don't care. Just don't do this. Don't walk away from something good."
You stop digging through your designated drawer in his room and look at him. "This isn't something a sorry can fix, Michael. If you want me the way you say you do, prove it."
You quickly throw as many things as you can into a duffle bag and leave his house.
Operation Getting Your Lick Back .á
The movie crew wanted to do a quick table read weeks before shooting the horror movie to make sure everyone's on screen chemistry was good. It was here you became close with Jane Fonda and Rita Moreno, your costars. Although you weren't supposed to discuss your relationship with Michael to others, you never signed an nda, so when they found you sulking, you opened up.
After an hour, they knew about your acting career, your year and a half long whirlwind romance, his obsession with control over his public image, and Brooke Shields.
"Oh, honey. This reminds me of my past relationship with Marlon Brando." Rita shook her head in remembrance.
"You dated Marlon Brando?" You ask in disbelief, never having heard of their relationship.
She hums, "Those years were some of the best nights of my life," she winks, laughing softly.
"He had the women chasing after him, that's for sure" Jane chimes in.
"He did plenty of the chasing too" Rita adds.
"He cheated?" You say, face scrunched in disgust.
"Of course, he was a dog." She states indifferently, as your eyes widen.
Without a second thought, she continues, "There was a point, I was so tired of his cheating I decided to get even." She states, as you and Jane lean forward in anticipation.
"I had just found a pair of lingerie in his house, and I was so heartbroken. I remember going home in tears,â And anyway the next day I got a call from Colonel Parker, Elvis' assistant and he said Elvis saw me at the commissary at Fox Studios and he wanted to meet me. He asked if I would also like to meet him."
She smirks, continuing, "I remember thinking about the lingerie I had just found and I said why yes I would."
You all began laughing together.
You quickly chime in, excitedly, "Well, what happened next?"
"Well, we went out that night, and it quickly spread into the gossip columns the next morning! Marlon heard about it and he was furiouss, he was throwing chairs and yelling, oh he was so mad." She smiles widely.
She quickly grabs Jane's and your knees, leaning in and whispering slowly, "And it was wonderful." You begin squealing in excitement while they laugh along together.
"Did you get back together then?" You enthusiastically ask.
As you all three lean into one another, your hands interlocked with Rita, who appreciated your enthusiasm.
She smiles sadly, patting your interlocked hands with one of her own. "Of course, at that point I didn't want to end things with Marlon. I just wanted to make him feel the way he had made me feel.â We were obsessed with one another. We wouldn't end things for good until two years later."
You hum in response, as you all begin thinking quietly amongst yourselves.
Jane pipes in, "I guess the question now is whether you just wanna make Michael work for it, or whether you wanna see him sweat? The way Rita did."
"And boy did I make him sweat," Rita giggles softly as they both lean in and you pull your hands from Rita's, twiddling your fingers, considering your next words carefully.
It's silent for a moment, and then you smile nervously before making eye contact with the both of them. "I wanna make him sweat."
They began squealing together, before Rita chimes "I knew, I liked you!"
You smile softly, as she pulls you in for a quick hug. You continue, "I just want him to feel how I did, seeing them at the Grammy's together."
"Well youâll need a man," Jane chimes.
"But not just any man!" Rita elaborates, "You need a man who is able to make him sweat, part of what made me meeting Elvis so hurtful was that it made Marlon realize I could be with someone more successful than him."
"I don't know anyone more successful than Michael." You think aloud.
"He doesn't need to be more successful, He just needs to be someone who everyone knows and holds in high regards. Someone important,â someone who can make him sweat." Jane corrects.
You think for a moment before you quickly lean forward on the sofa, "I know exactly who! Denzel Washington, he's a good friend of mine, and Michael knows he's asked me out."
The women gasped and began gushing over him, Denzel's career was just beginning to reach new heights. Everyone was talking about him, and that partly was because he was easy on the eyes. Which only helped your situation. He's the perfect man to make Michael sweat.
The plan is quickly under way, and when you call Denzel, asking if the invitation to the Academy Awards is still open, he happily agrees.
-
A few days later the awards show was held, you had been receiving calls from Michael, but made it clear that simple 'sorry's' weren't going to cut it. In the meantime, you were walking the red carpet with Denzel.
The dress you wore hugged your figure perfectly. Your back was completely showing, with only two thin straps holding the front piece in place from behind. The back cut was almost uncomfortably low as it rested directly above your ass.
Photographers are immediately yelling out for you both to look in their direction. The dress would go down in history and your delicate makeup and voluminous hair only added an elegance to the look.
Throughout the entirety of your photos together, Denzel's hand rested directly against your lower back, right where the dress ended, adding another layer of conversation to your look for the night. Your comfortability with one another, along with your appearance, and Denzel's first ever award show wins demanded attention.
'Denzel 'Wins Multiple Awards for First Time, Alongside Supermodel Date!'
Gossip columns went on tangents the next day over your look and comfortability with one another. Photos circulating of you both in the car after the award show, laughing closely with one another. Which led them to believe you were both in a relationship, much to both of your satisfaction.
The gossip just assured you that Michael would hear about your public appearance together.
Operation Getting His Girl Back .á
"Yo, Mike!" Michael hears Randy yelling from the outside of his bedroom door, as Randy and Marlon continue banging on his bedroom door.
"Mike! Hurry up, open the door." Janet yells, with Latoya by her side, reads another newspaper.
Michael, groggily shuffles out of bed. "I'm comin, damn."
As soon as the door opens, Marlon shoves a newspaper in his face, a small section showing a blurry image of a man and woman in a car, close together.
"Who is it?" Michael questions in a raspy voice.
"It's your girl and Denzel Washington, man." Marlon shakes his head, while everyone looks over his shoulder at the newspaper.
"He's so fine," Latoya mumbles to herself, before her siblings stare at her, dumbfounded.
"My bad," She forces an awkward smile.
"What're you gonna do?" Randy chimes in curiously.
Michael stares at the image, before mumbling "I'm gonna get my girl back."
The past week after your argument, Michael had been calling you daily, unsure of how to approach getting you back. These calls were cut short by you, but the fact you were still answering at all feels like a positive sign. You were open to the possibility of something, he just couldnât understand how to prove it to you.
The siblings huddled around in Michael's room, as he began pacing slowly, While Janet sat crisscrossed in the middle of the bed, with Latoya laying down next to her, looking up at the ceiling.
Randy was digging through Michael's trinkets, while Marlon sat crisscross on the floor, leaning back on his hands.
"So a phone call is a no?" Marlon asks.
"I've been doin that, she answers but never wants to talk long." Michael says before sitting on the edge of the bed, frustrated.
"Have you tried sending her flowers?" Latoya asks, looking in Michael's direction.
"No." Michael responds.
"Well what have you tried?" Janet asks.
"Calling and showing up at her house." Michael sighs.
"Did she open the door," Marlon asks. As Randy opens a wooden treasure chest full of toys, digging inside.
"No." Michael replies, flopping back on the bed, and rubbing his face.
"What if you try sending a big arrangement of flowers and a letter?" Latoya adds, sitting up.
"Do you think that'll work?" Michael asks.
"I don't think you have much of a choice, you needa try something else fast." Janet criticizes.
"Alright," Michael replies, nodding.
-
In the meantime, you were doing your daily routine of working out, going to your acting class, and meeting up with Rita Moreno for lunch. Who was overjoyed to see you on the front page of her newspaper that morning with Denzel, and demanded you grab lunch to gossip.
By the time you had gotten to your small Hollywood home you immediately noticed multiple giant flower bouquets on your doorstep.
You struggle to enter your doorway and notice that your door is struggling to open because of the amount of flowers surrounding your foyer. You smile softly before following the flower petals leading up to your room. You see bags of your favorite couture brands on your bed surrounding an envelope signed 'Mister winning my lady back, Yours Truly, Michael á„«áĄ".
Immediately you tear open the envelope.
'Dear Pretty Girl,
The past week has been really weird. The best way I can explain it is that it feels like I'm missing a limb from my body, and no one else except I seem to notice it. I'm trying to go about my daily life like everything's normal, but I feel this part of me missing, and I can't stop thinking about it. I miss you. I really really do. I didn't realize how deeply my actions were hurting you until you left. I know, I'm an idiot.
I'm not quite sure what else to say. I know that my actions haven't been the best, and even now I feel like I've waited too long to do something drastic but I'm trying to be intentional. I'll do whatever it takes. I love you, Pretty Girl.
Yours Truly,
You're Pinhead Boyfriend.'
Quickly glancing through the bags you notice items you have previously circled in magazines, while at Hayvenhurst with Michael. Biting your lip, you decide to give Michael a small break and call him. He answers on the third ring.
"Hello?" He questions.
"Hey," You smile softly, "I appreciate the gifts and the letter."
"Good!" He says enthusiastically, before coughing awkwardly "I mean good, I'm glad."
You giggle softly, before thinking out loud, "How did you get everything inside my house?"
"OH, um I have that key you gave me. I didn't want the men who were moving everything inside to do it while your house was empty and I didn't think you'd want me in there so Latoya and Janet were there to let the guys in." He says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
You hum in response, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you, really. But that doesn't mean everything is okay. I'll talk to you later." You mumble quietly.
"Wait," He raises his voice anxiously. "I'm dying here, baby. I don't know what you want me to do. Whatever it is, I'll do it! I just need a hint. Give me something, mama." He pleads.
Considering his perspective, you sigh. "I'll think about it." You're quiet for a moment before continuing. "Anyways, I really need to go. I'll talk to you later Michael, bye."
"Bye, I love you," He replies, as you hang up.
-
When Michael wakes up the next day to a hand written letter signed by you, his excitement is overwhelming. You decided to cut him some slack. He quickly tears open the envelope.
'Hey, Pinhead Boyfriend #1'
He reads, before rolling his eyes smiling, he knew you wanted to make him jealous and he definitely was, but he knew he had to be careful about how he handled your situation with Denzel. If he acted irrationally, he may push you away for good. For now he intended to focus on fulfilling your demands.
'I decided to be nice and write some demands out for you, the sooner you complete them, the sooner I'll hear you out. First, I need you to announce your relationship status. However, I want this done on my terms. I want you to announce it publicly in a television interview. I also want to see you announce it to our closest friends, at Studio 54 through a thoughtful and practiced performance. Secondly, I want to see you be creative and come up with a thoughtful heartfelt gift on your own. Get to it dummy, Iâll be waiting! â€ïžâ
Sincerely,
The Only Woman Who Better Be Sending You Love Letters!â
-
The interview was recorded and televised the next day, despite Michaelâs busy schedule he demanded John fit it into his agenda. The interview was brief as a result but Michael figured that would be okay. The less said in the interview, the more that the public's focus would be on his newly announced relationship status. Which it was.
Despite the completion of his task, his phone call with you was still short. You meant business.
Wanting desperately to be back in your good graces as soon as possible, Michael began cancelling his obligations throughout the week to begin practicing for his serenade performance at Studio 54. He had exactly four days to perfect it.
He even paid his brothers as well as yaâllâs favorite drag queens, to practice and be a part of the performance. After the drag queens berated him for his decision to keep your relationship a secret, they agreed to help.
He also made sure to set aside time at night to paint his gift, a portrait of you.
The days felt too quick for his liking, and he began to worry about the performance, but he already told you to be at Studio 54 on Saturday night and he couldn't go back on that now.
He can't help his nervousness as he begins setting up the stage with his brothers for their performance. You sit in a private, elevated section with your friends. In the meantime, Cupcake is continuing her crowd work.
Michael quickly takes a seat on the edge of the stage, gazing down at the floor, unmistakably sad. Before Cupcake approaches him, calling his name. A part of the performance.
Michael and Cupcake follow their prewritten script, building up the anticipation for their performance, before Michael and his brothers get on stage and the melody to 'I Want You Back' begins playing and the boys begin dancing the choreography in sync. The crowd cheers as Michael focuses on you entirely.
'When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd'
You can't help smiling, watching the obviously rehearsed performance begin. Your friends in your section immediately squeal and begin chattering about the performance, which you don't pay attention to as your focus remains on Michael. Who is also completely focused on you.
'Oh, baby, give me one more chance, to show you that I love you.'
Michael emphasizes the lyrics, while simultaneously staying in line with his brothers who are all dancing alongside one another.
As the music progresses, couples around the room are dancing together, friends are singing passionately to one another, and other audience members are dancing with the drag queens in the crowd. The song begins passing midway through, when you see a few drag queens take each of the Jackson sibling's place on stage as the brothers slowly stop performing and move off stage. Michael remains singing, as the drag queens take their places on stage, serving as backup singers and dancers for the crowd.
The brothers quietly walk off stage, Michael, walking up the steps to your section with his brothers following suit, grabbing items from the side of the stage before rushing after him. Marlon brings a bouquet of roses, Jackie brings a bottle of wine and glass cups, Tito holds a large but thin wrapped gift, and Jermaine holds small tubes in his hand that you can't yet identify.
'Oh, baby, I need one more chance. I tell ya that I love you'
Michael smiles as he reaches you, and you begin dancing with one another. You both gaze into one another's eyes lovingly, smiling widely as the song comes to an end.
As the music finishes, Michael hands his mic to Jermaine, and holds both of your hands while playing with them. He's nervous and unintentionally avoids eye contact for a moment, to gather himself together.
You see his adam's apple bob up and down, while he nervously clears his throat, before finally meeting your gaze.
"What do you say, can I have one more chance?" He nervously gauges your response.
You smile softly and nod your head.
Immediately, confetti is flying around you as everyone in the room is now cheering. Michael looks around and, as he meets your gaze once again he's smiling genuinely now. He lets go of his grip on your hands and they instead move to your jaw, before leaning in. Your lips meet for a slow but chaste kiss.
You spend your night celebrating together with your friends, dancing and laughing. And when you both finally get home, you have a serious and much needed heartfelt conversation. Specifically, about his negative reaction to the criticism you were receiving regarding your past acting roles, as well as his decision to bring Brooke to the Grammyâs
He listened intently to everything you had to say and apologized profusely for his obsession with his and your public image, promising to spend as long as he needed make it up to you. He also promised he wouldn't have contact with Brooke Shield's going forward.
Until the conversation of Denzel finally arose.
"I just kinda feel bad about leading him on." You mumble.
"Oh, he'll be fine, don't worry about that." He states indifferently, playing with the hem of his oversized shirt, which you are wearing, as you both cuddled on the bed.
"You sound so sure of yourself. He really liked me, you know," You acknowledge.
He scoffs, irritated at the mention of Denzel, "Trust me I know."
You sit up from your position. Curiosity getting the best of you, as you look at him, "Then what makes you so sure he won't care."
Michael's eyebrows furrow as he cringes momentarily, frustrated with himself for saying anything. He rubs his hands against his face before sighing.
"I may or may not have spent the last few days setting him back up with his last longterm girlfriend." He coughs, before adding, "They're actually on a date now,â in Hawaii."
"Did you pay for them to travel to Hawaii, just to get him out of the picture?" You scoff in astonishment.
He bites his lip, "When you say it like that, it sounds crazy." He mumbles.
"Yeah, I'm the one making it sound crazy" You reply sarcastically.
You can't help furrowing your eyebrows, while looking at him. "I don't know whether I should be concerned or flattered." You think aloud.
He quickly pulls you back down against him, as his hands find themselves on your jaw as he begins smothering you in kisses. "Flattered, definitely flattered." He replies,
You smile softly. "You know, that seems an awful lot like jealousy." You tease.
He pulls away, humming in response, "I don't think so. I was just tying up a few loose ends, helping a friend out, you know?"
You scoff in astonishment, "You might actually be insane."
"I wasn't gonna let him ruin my one chance at getting you back. I just did something nice to get him out of the way in the meantime." He states gauging your reaction, his thumb softly tracing your jawline.
"Are you upset?" He asks softly.
You remain quiet for a moment, considering your answer, "No, if I had seen you in person with Brooke at the Grammy's, I may have done worse."
He huffs a breathy laugh, "Yeah?" He asks, biting his lip before leaning down and leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. He loved when you got possessive.
'mhmm' You smile, placing your hand on his jawline, softly leaning back on the bed, as you gently pull his face above yours.
"And if you ever do some dumb shit like that again, we're done." You murmur softly, eyebrows furrowed as he notices the hurt in your tone.
He nods softly, " I did wrong by you and I know that, but I swear it wonât happen again."
He leans down and your lips meet in an open mouthed kiss, his tongue softly teasing your bottom lip in the process. While his hands softly trace your jawline and yours slowly begin tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck, as you follow his lead.
Michael sucks on the bottom of your lip slowly before he begins gradually leaning back, as his grip on your throat tightens slightly, guiding your frame on top of his, before he slowly pulls back from the kiss, while you begin kissing along his jaw towards his neck. He settles himself against the headboard, while you straddle him.
His hands make their way up your thighs before groping your ass and eventually tugging at the shirt you have on. Both of your clothes are quickly disregarded as you successfully attempt to find comfort in one anotherâs embrace for the night. You both seem to wordlessly agree in simply wanting to become intimately reacquainted with one another after your time apart.
He's Never Living It Down .á
It had been over forty years since your brief separation from Michael, which was the only time where you genuinely almost walked away from him for good. Life has been great. You have five beautiful children together and 12 grandchildren. Things are good.
It was the last Friday night of the month, and therefore your mandatory family night. Your house was filled with children, teenagers, and adults all roaming around, talking amongst themselves in the living room or kitchen.
You were sat on Michael's lap, cuddling on the sofa, with a blanket draped over you, talking quietly amongst yourselves. While completely unaware of three of your grandchildren who were planning on messing with you, laughing quietly amongst themselves.
They quietly sit on the opposite end of the couch, attempting to look casual when your granddaughter, Kayla, raises her voice, immediately catching ya'll's attention, as her brother, Jackson records, attempting to stifle his laughs.
"I'm soo hungry," She wails. "I could eat Denzel Washington."
You scoff a laugh in complete disbelief, as Michael immediately sits up loosening his grip on your waist.
"Denzel Washington?" Michael's eyebrows immediately furrow in annoyance, while he lets go of you.
"Has she been mentioning him," He asks looking at you in disbelief, while the kids start laughing hysterically and you sit completely baffled.
"I haven't thought of that man in years, don't start." You say getting annoyed with him.
"Why are they talkin bout him?" He quickly directs his questions towards the children who are wheezing with laughter, while the rest of the room has gotten quiet and everyone is now watching y'all's reactions, smiling or laughing. "Where'd y'all get that name?" He asks them seriously.
"Papa, we found the photos of Granny with him when they were young and just wanted to mess with ya'll, it's a tiktok trend." Jayla speaks up from her spot, next to her sister, smiling widely.
You can't help chiming in "You chose the wrong name, the one you should've said was Brooke Shields." You say raising your eyebrows at Michael. To which he closes his eyes and his head falls back on the couch in disbelief. How he ended up in trouble, he didnât know.
Your eldest son chimes in, "Ya'll done got Papa in some trouble." He says as you stand up and walk away, annoyed that he would get angry over hearing Denzel's name when he knows he was the one who rubbed Brooke Shields in your face. He didn't have any right to be annoyed.
Michael quickly follows after you, hoping you weren't genuinely upset with him.
One of your daughters chimes in "He's gonna be sleeping on the couch if he doesn't start kissing up." They laugh amongst themselves before one of their significant others asks about the story behind the celebrities being mentioned.
They slowly settle around the couch while Michael follows you silently in the kitchen.
"Papa cheated on Granny with Brooke Shields." One of your grandchildren chimes in.
"I thought Granny cheated with Denzel," Another asks.
Slowly your children reveal the story to their children and significant others, each one chiming in at different points, having heard the story multiple times before.
By the end of the story, everyone is murmuring amongst themselves. Before your youngest daughter explains to those unaware, that their names were basically forbidden words in your house growing up. They always led to an argument, with Michael ultimately being the one in trouble and having to apologize.
One of your children's significant others finally speaks up, "I hope they figure things out, she seemed really upset."
Your youngest daughter rolls her eyes before revealing "Oh, they'll be fine. They get like this every once in a while. I bet they're already good."
Your next youngest son butts in, "No way! The last time, mama was so mad she made him sleep on the couch."
They begin bickering amongst themselves, as a few of your children and grandchildren decide to peek into the kitchen, to see if you were arguing with Michael. Instead, they see you leaned up against the kitchen island, hands on Michael's face while his hands rest on your waist, and he is smothering you in kisses "'m sorryâ love youâ 'm a dummy." he mumbles between kisses, while you giggle softly.
a very long note: guys, GUYS. normally i stopped reading celebrity fanfiction since it kind of icks me now. however with my regrowing infatuation with michael, i would like to pay an homage to the 16 year old me. so here it is in all its glory. please donât get annoyed that there is not much smut though. i donât really get along with it. i want to go back and cuddle him so most of them are just fluff, comfort and angst (duh, who am i without that type of anguish) enjoy!
SERIES- MULTI CHAPTERS
past exposure âą michael jackson x time traveller!reader
âł by @thedailymichael (multiple eras, time travelling au)
the jackson chronicles âą michael jackson x spouse!reader
âł by @imhandicapableofmath (so domestic, married!michael, suggestive, fluff)
desire, interrupted | desire, reclaimed âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @urbanfunkchild (dangerous/history era, smut, angst, soft fluff)
you knock me off my feet | part two | part three âą michael jackson x newrisintvocalist!reader
âł by @comoquesoybambi (bad era, michael is basically obsessed)
my little reporter | part two âą michael jackson x journalist!reader
âł by @/am3sss (bad era, fluff)
again | part two | michael jackson x dancer!reader
âł by @tpwkyarely (angst, hurt/comfort)
beautiful stranger | part two âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @mjuniverse (pre thriller era, slow burn, yearning, very angsty, right person, wrong time, soft!michael)
gone by morning | part two âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @startingsomethin (thriller-bad era, angst, cheating, smut, fluff)
spotlight âą michael jackson x popstar!reader
âł by @hcwait (thriller era, slow burn)
making of an it girl | part two âą michael jackson x tourdancer!reader
âł by @intelligenthottie
baby be mine | thrill you tonight âą michael jackson x girlnextdoor!reader
âł by @iceemochaa (post otw-pre thriller era, fluff, slightly suggestive)
stargirl | part two âą michael jackson x singer !reader
âł by @ytrhbz (thriller era, whipped!michael, fluff)
remember the time | part two | part three âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @chmpngekisses (thriller-bad era, angst)
his new obsession | part two âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @luvvreader (yearning, slow burn)
by your side | part two âą michael jackson x actress!reader
âł by @svnnywrites (thriller era, hurt/comfort)
ONE-SHOTS-BLURBS-HCâS
baby be mine âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @angelfacediary (otw-bad era, angst, fluff)
nine months of home videos âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @angelfacediary (pregnant!reader, so so so fluffy)
out of time âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @urelliee (bad era, angst, heartbreak, very bittersweet)
pretty young thing âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @tpwkyarely (angst, comfort, tw: dv)
through his lens âą thriller!michael jackson x reader
âł by @neverlandzangel (thriller era, married!michael, fluff, domestic bliss)
arrow through the heart âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @startingsomethin (dangerous era, oh so angsty)
excuse me thatâs my wife âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @mvsticmoony (jealous!michael, fluff)
where is my husband! âą michael jackson x singer!reader
âł by @mvsticmoony (fluff)
love caught on tape âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @mvsticmoony (invincible era, flashbacks, married life fluff)
a love letter to june âą michael jackson x fan!reader
âł by @hcwait (dangerous era, very fluffy)
in sickness and in health âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @king-mila (bad era, protective!michael, sick!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort)
americaâs sweetest bunny âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @michaeldiary (dangerous era, playboymodel!reader, sooo fluffy, slightly suggestive)
little pieces of her âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @brownsugarletters (thriller era, fluff)
young hearts, run free âą michael jackson x guitarist!reader
âł by @shakinghamster (thriller era, fluff, workplace romance, cheating)
unforgettable âą michael jackson x fan!reader
âł by @ytrhbz (history era, fluff, reader is that girl)
cause if itâs aching, you have to rub it âą michael jackson x fem!black!reader
âł by @serenebows (thriller era, shy!reader, fluff)
all over, all over, all over âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @hon3yarchives (dangerous era, fluff, suggestive)
sign the girls âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @michaelpilled (thriller era, suggestive, flirting)
a memory to look back on âą michael jackson x pregnant!reader
âł by @lovecherishly (bad era, soo fluffy)
sweet tooth âą michael jackson x sweet!reader
âł by @carmaloves (bad era, so very fluffy)
stuck in the elevator âą michael jackson x reader
âł by @londynham (romance, fluff, angst)
working overtime âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @urbanfunkchild (pre bad era, kind of smutty, possessive!michael)
love never felt so good âą michael jackson x fem!black!reader
âł by @proseandj (invincible era, fluff)
like a stradivarius âą michael jackson x gn!spouse!reader
âł by @imhandicapableofmath (married!michael, domestic fluff, humour, suggestive)
âshe thinks you smell like cinnamonâ âą michael jackson x gn!spouse!reader
âł by @imhandicapableofmath (married!michael, fanfiction meta, emotional comfort, teasing, fluff)
#1 loverboy âą michael jackson x gn!reader
âł by @invincibledc (bad era, fluff)
read my lips âą michael jackson x deaf!black!reader
âł by @invincibledc (protective!michael, fluff)
home movies âą michael jackson x pregnant!reader
âł by @ktrsis (bad-invincible era, flashbacks, soo fluffy)
the lady in my life âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @cupcakeprincezz (thriller era, fluff)
surprise visit âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @cupcakeprincezz (bad era, very fluffy)
secret touch âą michael jackson x fem!singer!reader
âł by @invinor (dangerous era, fluff)
inspiration âą michael jackson x singer!reader
âł by @liyahhsnuckhere (pre bad era, sooooo fluffy, suggestive)
the chateau âą michael jackson x younger!fem!reader
âł by @elleist (dangerous era, fluff, very cute)
imagine sitting on his lap
âł by @humannatures (fem!reader, fluff)
tabloid junkie âą michael jackson x fem!reader
âł by @moonlitjane (protective!reader, fluff, suggestive)
hidden in the spotlight âą superstar!michael jackson x costumedesigner!fem!reader
âł by @gh0ulxxc (dangerous era, angst, fluff, romance, slow burn)
Michael Jackson x Singer!Reader
⯠Xdinary Heroes - Dear H
Synopsis: he sees the amount of depressing songs that you've been releasing and gets ridiculously concerned that it's because of him. But you were really just an angsty teen back then with great lyricism that you couldn't let go to waste.
Genre: fluff! Angsty. Happy endiing.
Tags: implied fem reader!!! Mentions of childhood bullying and all around childhood angst (nothing in depth though!). Established relationship. Insecurity. Implications of self-harm (lyric). Any era Michael. Idk the process of releasing an album.
Wc: 2k
A/n: stream You Seem Pretty Sad for a Girl So in Love RIGHT NOW. Count how many song references you found lmao. This is just a compilation of my fav sad songs HAHAHA. This is also just me glazing.
Your new album released just a few hours ago. Already garnering huge sales of your CDs and vinyls during said time stamp.
Song after song reflected the voice of your thirteen year old self-- the one that nobody ever bothered to offer a shoulder to.
The album cover was plastered on billboards all over the state. Radio stations were already playing all twelve tracks. Almost everyone had already heard the words from your adolescence.
Almost everyone.
Michael sat on his sofa, his own signed (with kiss marks, in his favourite lipstick shade as well) gifted to him courtesy of yours truly. You sent him a personal copy, accompanied with behind-the-scene polaroids from your photoshoots.
He's been ecstatic waiting for you to come home. Staying up wayy past midnight just for you. Obviously wanting to listen to your creation alongside the creator, wanting to shower you in compliments and kisses with how talented you are. Despite you insisting that he listen to it on his own.
Especially since you wouldn't let him sit with you while you worked on the album like you always did. A few pouts and whines later ---that coursed over multiple days with how persistent he was, mind you--- he left you alone in your studio with his shoulders slumped and back bent.
Though, right now, he was worried to death. Over analysing the lyric sheet provided. Not because it was bad, hell no, nothing you make can ever be bad.
But because it was just... sad.
He skimmed the first song. 'Something's gotten into you. You don't really look at me the way you used to.' Michael swallowed thickly. This wasn't about him.. was it? It couldn't have been. He wouldn't let you feel this way.
Then came the other songs.
'I made a bloody mess in the kitchen sink.'
'Guess it's not far from the ordinary, they do say love is blind.'
'You are just a fool to keep pretendin' that you're lovin' me.'
'I haven't stopped crying.'
They were all about love and heartbreak. It couldn't have been about him. Could it? Who else would it be about? Who broke your heart this badly? These lyrics had so much emotion, it couldn't have been that much of a past event.
The more he read the more he grew nervous.
Without a second thought, he stood up from his seat and made his way to his room. Taking out the vinyl from it's sleeve, he hovered it above his vinyl player. Something that was a mix of excitement and anxiety washing over him.
Setting it down and bringing the cartridge to the grooves. He stepped back, making his way to sit on his bed. Listening to the first few seconds of static pop and crackle around the room.
He fell in love with your album within the first ten seconds.
Every track were beautiful pieces of art.
But it was so sad.
Not as if he found a problem with majority sad songs, but this was all of them. Amazingly written, with so much raw emotion, he could feel it through the melodies.
All twelve were about heartbreak, whether that was platonic or romantic, insecurity, body images, your family dynamic. All around tragic stuff.
Though he was glad that you were brave enough to share your stories.
He knew a bunch of those stories too. He was more concerned about the heartbreak aspect of your songs. He didn't think that he was doing anything wrong in the relationship that lead you to write this extreme level of angst.
What if he was?
Maybe the reason you insisted that he sit out on watching the production of this one, or the reason you insisted he listen to it on his own, was because this was your way of revenge? That you'd make him rethink his role as your boyfriend from your perspective.
What if you leave him after that?
--- oh dear, he was spiralling.
Catching himself before he could slip too far away, he sped to the bathroom and splashed himself with icy cold water. This is ridiculous, it must be. He needs to see you.
âââââââ
You let out the most outrageous groan as you stretched your arms out right at the entrance of your home. Kicking of the uncomfortable shoes that you've been standing on for the events that came with releasing a new album.
Breaking free from the uncomfortable rigid and stiff posture that's been burning a muscle knot on your back as you made your way to the living room. Not bothered to take off your makeup and ready to just knock out.
You turned the lights on, only to jump mid-yawn with a small gasp.
"Hey sweetheart." You huffed out a relieved laugh, smiling softly as your hand reached your chest. Now looking at the man sat on your couch. "Oh, you scared me."
Michael gave you a smile in return. "Sorry, sweetheart." He jumped from his seat, making his way to you in two quick strides. "I just wanted to see you." He leaned closer to plant a kiss to your lips.
He could feel the tremble in his hands as he hesitantly moved it down to your hips. Something you fortunately didn't catch on.
Pulling away, he brought your head to his chest. Holding it impossibly closer. "Wanted to congratulate you on your album." He buried his face to your shoulder.
Your face lit up, suddenly rid of any exhaustion. âDid u like it??â
âOf course I liked it." He murmurs, placing a kiss on your neck. "All of your songs were absolutely beautiful and Iâm so proud of you..."
His head shook with your shoulder as you let out a small laugh. "Aw, thank you." Bringing your hand up to scratch the back of his neck. Pulling away from the hug and now manoeuvring your hand to hold his cheek. It only took a second for you to pause.
âI can sense a âbutâ in there somewhere.â You said suspiciously, eyebrows now knitted together.
He shook his head almost too quickly. "Why would you think that, baby?" trying to force a smile. Trying to shove the insecurity to the back of his mind.
"Sweetheart, you look like you're about to throw up."
He shook his head again.
"What's wrong with the album, Michael?" You asked softly.
"You know that you can talk to me about anything, right? I'll never be mad at you, angel." He looked back at you, now holding your hand in his.
You nodded in even more confusion. "What's going on?" Your heart was dropping bit by bit. So incredibly worried.
"Your songs.." he trailed off, moving his head to avoid your eyes. ".. they're beautiful.."
"..but?"
"But I can't help but wonder what happened to make you write songs so sad." He finally stated.
Your mouth was opening bit by bit in disbelief. Not moving your gaze from him.
"Especially the one's about.. y'know, relationships and all'at. And about how sad you were because of 'em." He tapped his fingers on his upper thigh. "And I-- I trust that you'd tell me if I were to do anything to you."
You attempted to open your mouth, trying to get a word out.
âButmyheadisfullofpoisonandmymindisfullofdoubtsigottoxinsinmybloodstreamyoutriedhardtosuckthemoutanditfeelslikeâ-â he cuts himself off with a shake of his head, catching his breath. "I just.. want you to know that I'm here for you, y'know? And if you think I'm breakin' your heart then I want you to tell me." He finally gained the courage to look you in the eyes. "And-- you didn't want me to be there when you made them, did you not want me to see it? And... and get mad or somethin'?"
And if your eyes weren't soft already, it softened even more. Melting to his gaze. Your heart swelling up in some sort of... cuteness aggression?
"Fuck, you're so cute." You whispered under your breath.
"What?"
"Nothing--" you stepped back a bit, taking your time to think for a while. "Okayokayokay--" your brought your hands down to his arms, rubbing up and down soothingly. "I promise you, the songs weren't about our relationship."
His eyes threatened to light up. Before he hesitate once again.
"Okay--" you stepped back. "Come with me for a second." Your lips twitched upwards, threatening to let out a smile.
He recites more lyrics as the both of you make your way upstairs. "Is she all that you want Is she all that you need. I love you more than anything Y/n, you know that." He was talking to you, yet his eyes were elsewhere. Disassociating while you pulled him upstairs by his wrist.
The both of you were now in your room. He stood awkwardly in the middle of it while you dug through your piles of notebooks and clothes.
"You can talk about anything, though. Especially to me. I'd never judge you, ever." His brows furrowed in frustration at himself. Mad that he didn't let you feel as loved as he thought you were.
You grabbed his hands, snapping him out of his imagination. To which you dropped a notebook in his hands.
His gaze dropped down to it; two giant illustrated kittens placed on the front. Neon purple as the background behind them. The most popular Lisa Frank notebook from when you were a child.
"I got it for my twelfth birthday." You smiled, jumping on your bed stomach first, groaning loudly as you felt the air bubbles in your joints pop. Sighing loudly as they all disappeared.
He opened the notebook, flipping through the pages while he mindlessly follows you to your bed.
Pages upon pages of crossed out lines, messy penmanship, and what he believed to be tear stains. Along with few pages of hand-drawn music sheets. Notes with messy lines and horribly drawn treble clefs.
"Those songs you heard." You started, "I wrote them years ago, when I was like.. thirteen." You flopped to your stomach, placing both hands to your chin and resting your head on your palms.
"Thirteen..." he murmured in shock, ".. you were already such a lyrical genius by thirteen." He showed the softest grin.
"Duh." Your grin was wide. "But I was also a depressed preteen with so many things going on." You explained. "Bullying, my crush didn't like me-- that bastard, the obvious body image problem that literally every kid had. Like anything a kid in middle school could go through." You laughed. "And.. the only reason why I didn't want you there was because I didn't want you to hear the cringe bullshit I wrote before present me polished them."
Though, he didn't find it funny.
"You went through all of this." Grabbing the cover of the notebook with his thumb, and flipped through all of the pages. Randomly landing on the words that he recognised to be the fifth track.
"I have twenty more of those notebooks." You smirked. "So I have the next twenty years of my career all set."
"Twenty more books about how you were horribly treated?" He looked at you now, devastated by the topics you had talked about at such a young age.
"Well-- " you squinted. "I mean, yeah." You sighed out. "I had maybe three books a year. Being a teenager was the worst." You groaned. "I think I zoomed through ten at sixteen." The both of you laughed together.
"Was it really that bad?" He set the notebook down. Now bringing a hand to rest against your own.
"Oh it was the absolute worst!" You started to chuckle once again, though it quieted down when you noticed how he didn't match. "Hey." You called out. "You should see the one I had last year. Now that one's all about you."
He whipped his body to face you completely. "Is it now?" He asked breathlessly.
"Yeah, and you cannot even begin to believe the amount of corny shit I wrote in that thing."
He dropped his head down to the mattress. "Like what?" Mood now flipped completely.
"Oh you know," you leaned in closer. "The typical lovey dovey shit."
You both laughed once again.
"I still mean it though." His voice was rid of any of the previous worries. "I'm here for you. No matter what it is, I'd never make you feel like.. whoever those songs were about."
Synopsis: during the award show you attend with your husband, he performs "They way you make me feel" song from his album BAD along with Tatiana during which she kisses him and goes off script which surprises both you and Michael. And just like that, he spends the rest of his night making desperate attempts for your forgiveness and make things right between you two.
Pairings: bad!era!husband!michael x popstar!reader
Note: again, there r no descriptions of the reader but reader IS wearing the dress in the header shown above :) I made reader go easy on our mikey cause he's a sweetheart :) also, this is all I could do keeping in count of the word count.
The applause inside the theater was deafening.
You sat in the front row, smoothing invisible wrinkles from your outfit as cameras swept across the audience. Beside you, Michael sat, moving his head to the beat of the song.
Attending award shows with Michael wasn't something new. Especially since he'd been your husband for three years now, you always found a way to stick together.
Tonight, both of you were nominated for various categories, along with Michael performing a few songs from his new album, "BAD", which everyone was eagerly waiting for.
Michael slowly slipped his hand underneath yours, intertwining your fingers and holding you tightly.
He leaned in. "I think I'll be up in a few."
And just as he said that, the crew called him backstage so he could get ready for his performance. He nodded at them and then looked at you, his grip tightening.
"Wish me luck."
"All the best, baby," you whispered, smiling at him.
He wore his familiar grin and bent down to press a quick kiss to your lips before heading backstage, pumped that you'd wished him luck.
After a few performances, the lights went out and silence took over.
The drums of "Bad" started playing, and everyone lost their minds. The audience started screaming and shouting. You smiled as he began performing and sang along with him.
You watched proudly as he performed a few songs, the cameraman focusing on you every once in a while.
And then came "The Way You Make Me Feel."
You loved this song, mainly because of the number of times he'd sung it for you in your living room or in the kitchen while you were washing dishes, making you laugh at his antics.
Tatiana entered, surprising everyone, and Michael followed her around the stage while singing the lyrics, creating a scene for the audience just like in his music video.
After a while, both of them came to the center of the stage, facing each other as Michael continued to sing. Tatiana leaned closer, and just as Michael was about to turn, she closed the gap and pressed a kiss to his lips.
Oh shit was the first thing that Michael thought.
The camera immediately panned to you as you sat there in surprise, your eyebrows raised, clearly showing your distaste and not caring about the camera in your face.
Your mind went blank, and so did his. His eyes widened for a quick second as she did that, and he moved away before she could keep her arms around him.
He couldn't really focus on the performance anymore. He locked eyes with you and saw the look on your face, which made his heart race.
You stayed quiet for the rest of his performance, not smiling and clapping like you had earlier. Meanwhile, Michael was rapidly thinking of ways to explain it to you.
As the performance ended, he immediately gave Tatiana a look and said, "You absolutely had no right to do that Tatina. Just so you know, we ain't going to perform anymore." Then he rushed to the restroom.
He splashed water on his face and scrubbed his lips harder than necessary, which had touched Tatiana's a few moments ago. He stared at his reflection and felt so bad imagining how you must've felt while everyone was looking at you.
He settled down beside you and tried to grab your hand, but you pulled away, looking forward.
"Baby," he said in his pleading tone while facing you, which made your heart melt, but you stayed strong.
He took hold of your hand forcefully, keeping it between both of his hands.
"Baby, I'm sorry, but you have to hear me out."
"Not now, Michael."
His heart broke at the distant tone. He looked at you for a long second with his pretty brown eyes and then leaned back in his seat, looking at the stage while not letting go of your hand.
The night ended with both of you winning multiple awards as you got ready to go home. Michael's hand rested on your waist as he guided you to the car along with Bill.
"Michael, how do you feel about kissing another woman while having a wife?"
"Are you having an open marriage?"
"Y/N, what do you think about your husband kissing another woman?"
"Is this a marketing strategy?"
"Michael, was the kiss planned?"
The questions were being fired left and right as you both made your way to the car, making you increasingly agitated.
"No, it was an accident. I love my wife too much do something like that. Stop it," he said to the reporters, loud and clear, before opening the door for you.
Your heart warmed at that as he settled beside you and closed the door while Bill started driving.
"Baby, can you please look at me?" he asked, his body completely turned toward you as he held your upper arm.
"Let's talk when we get home, Michael."
"Don't do that."
"Don't do what?"
"Call me by my name."
You rolled your eyes. "Michaelâ"
He cut you off. "No."
You scoffed and looked out the window.
Bill looked at both of you through the mirror, sensing the tension, and tried to break it.
"What an eventful night. Am I right?"
"Indeed, an eventful night," you replied, your jaw tight.
Michael closed his eyes for a second, taking a deep breath and slowly turned forward so he could throw daggers into Bill's head with his stare.
Bill sensed it and tried to hide his laugh by clearing his throat as you finally reached home.
......
After removing your makeup and jewelry, you tried to remove your dress. Michael came up behind you and slowly began undoing the buttons of your corset.
You tried to move away, but his hands shot up to your bare shoulders and pulled you back against him.
"Baby, seriously, how long are you going to keep this up?" he asked, trying to catch your eyes in the mirror.
"As long as I want to," you said, not looking at the mirror.
"You need to hear me out, pretty girl," he pleaded as his hands worked on the buttons.
"I swear I didn't know she was going to pull that move. I was just as surprised as you."
You rolled your eyes, being petty.
"Sure you were."
He nuzzled his face into your neck, his hands sliding inside the corset to rest on your waist as he hummed.
"Mhm, I really was, baby."
You moved your neck away at that.
"Don't let your 'Tatiana lips' touch my skin."
He paused for a moment, chuckling, and turned you around to face him. His hands rested on your ribcage while his thumbs caressed your sides.
"Baby, I washed my lips right after the show. C'mon, mama, don't be so harsh on me."
"Whatever," you said, still not looking at him.
He held your jaw and turned your face so you were looking at him.
"Such a stubborn thing, aren't you? I'm sorry, baby, I really am. I told her off. She isn't t going to perform with me anymore. You know I only love you, right? I only care about you."
You melted at that but still chose not to reply.
He observed your face for a few seconds, his eyes roaming over your features.
"Give your man a kiss, mama, please," Michael pleaded, his voice cracking at the end as he leaned in and kissed your lips softly.
Unable to resist any further, you gave in and kissed him back which made him groan. He guided your hands around his neck while his hands roamed over your bare shoulders and back.
"How are you going to make it up to me?" you asked after pulling back, giving him a knowing look.
He looked at you and grinned.
"Oh, you'll see," he said as he kissed you again, leading you toward the bed.
... Dats it kids. Da rest is upto ur imagination, whether they cuddle or... Play twister in bed.
Note: there was smtg happening while writing this fic... So its lowk ass but it's Michael jackson nd yn so they saved it đââïž anywyas enjoy dis wonky ahh not good fanfic. Lolz RAWRRR... Idk IDKIDKIDK IM LOWK HYPERVENTILATING IK KTS NAWT AS GOOD AS UR EXPECTATIONS SORRY GUYS AGHHHH SIDJDKFJHGKFJGJG sorry tehe
Taglist of beryyy pretty people đđđ: @58applestall @minghaossv @zanyana626 @1dk-her @undeadzombiebrainz @hwa2tiny
SYNOPSIS: Michael's plans for him and reader to go half on a baby have finally come to fruition. Neverland's gonna have some little Jacksons running around. Reader is pregnant and goin through a rollercoaster of emotions, but Michael's along for the ride â€ïž
CONTENT: fluff, super sweet fluff, comfort, needy!Michael, dangerous era!Michael, era 1993, established relationship, emotional intimacy, pregnancy, no use of y/n
Author's Note: I'm so glad you guys like this series, I'm having so much fun writing it đ„č send me fluffy requests to give me some ideas to write about! đ
Hayvenhurst had become considerably more dangerous since everyone learned about the baby. Not traditional danger, the danger came in the form of food. Specifically, food being placed in your hands against your will by Jackson women.Â
You had arrived two hours ago. Since then, you had been handed one plate of barbecue, two helpings of macaroni and cheese, a bowl of fruit, sweet tea, and three separate slices of cake. You knew because you had counted once you felt a stomachache coming on.
At the picnic table beside you, Janet looked entirely too entertained.
"You better eat it."
You stared at the newest plate that had somehow appeared in front of you.Â
"Jan, if I eat any more Iâm gonna be sick."
She shrugged.Â
"Donât look at me."
You narrowed your eyes.Â
"You literally handed it to me."
"I was acting under orders."
Your gaze drifted toward the patio, toward the true mastermind, Ms. Katherine. She was speaking to Rebbie near the grill while somehow keeping one eye on your plate from thirty feet away.
"She can see everything," Janet whispered. "I swear she got eyes in the back of her head."
You laughed quietly. Ever since Katherine found out you were expecting, she immediately began fulfilling grandmotherly duties as if the baby was already here.Â
A familiar warm presence settled behind you. Michaelâs hand slid across your back, he leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek. Another to your temple, and one to the top of your head. His lips stayed there for a second longer as he breathed you in.
"You eat?" he murmured against your hair, voice low and warm. You tilted your head back to look at him. His free hand came up to cradle the side of your face, thumb brushing softly over your cheekbone. Janet immediately burst into laughter across the table.
You closed your eyes.Â
"There it is."
Michael blinked.Â
"What?"
Janet covered her face.Â
"Oh, he doesnât even realize he does it anymore."
Michaelâs brows pulled together in confusion, but he didnât pull away. Instead, he shifted closer, his hand still resting protectively on your stomach as he crouched beside your chair. His thumb traced slow, soothing circles over the swell there, something he did all too often now.
You reached up and threaded your fingers through his, squeezing gently.Â
"This is my fourth plate, Iâve been eatinâ all day, Iâm about to pop."Â Â you told him, half-laughing. His eyes widenedÂ
"Thatâs good," he said softly, leaning in to press a kiss just below your ear. His nose brushed your jaw as he added,Â
"Our baby needs to eat."
Before you could respond, Katherine appeared beside the table carrying yet another plate.
"Ms. Katherineâ"
"No arguments." She set it down carefully, then placed a soft hand over yours. Her smile was warm, maternal.Â
"You take care of yourself, baby."Â
Her gaze dropped to your stomach, softening further.Â
"My grandbaby needs you."
The words choked you up. These days you were so emotional, and Michael felt it. He rose up just enough to be able wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you back gently against chest.
Rebbie took the seat across from you, already sharing advice about swollen feet. Janet announced her plans to be the rich auntie. La Toya declared herself the fun aunt. Laughter rose around the table like music.
And somewhere in the middle of it all, Katherine smiled into her glass of tea and asked, as casually as if discussing the weather: "So whenâs the wedding?"
Silence fell across the table. It wasnât awkward, just surprising. Instantly you looked over at Michael. Janetâs head snapped up, and Rebbieâs smile froze.Â
Beside you, Michael went very still. His arm tightened around your shoulders.  You felt his heartbeat pick up against your back.Â
The backyard suddenly seemed louder. Children laughing. Music drifting from the speakers. Someone near the grill arguing about barbecue sauce.
Life continuing as though Katherine Jackson hadn't just casually altered the trajectory of your entire evening.
Your mouth opened. Then closed. Surprisingly, for perhaps the first time in your life, you had absolutely no idea what to say. Janet recovered first.Â
She absolutely knew what Janet meant. Rebbie hid a smile behind her cup. You looked toward Michael. Surely, the man who had sold out stadiums and performed in front of millions would have an answer.Â
Michael was staring at his plate. He did not have an answer. Which was concerning, Michael only stared at food when he was thinking, deeply. His hand remained spread across your stomach, protective and instinctive. Absentmindedly rubbing slow circles over the fabric of your dress.Â
Katherine's eyes softened. The kind of soft only mothers possessed.
"You've already made a family."
Her gaze drifted to your stomach. Now unmistakably round beneath your dress.
Then back to both of you.
"So I was just wondering."
Simple and matter-of-factly. There was no pressure or judgement in her statement, just curiosity. The kind only mothers seemed allowed to have.
Your face warmed. Because when Katherine looked at you, there was no scrutiny. Only affection. An even more terrifying expectation. As though she had quietly accepted you long ago.
Across the table, Janet grinned. She was elated.
"I volunteer to plan the baby shower."
"La Toya already called dibs on decorations," Rebbie added.
Janet gasped dramatically.
"She what?"
The conversation immediately descended into sibling chaos, as Jackson conversations often did. Someone argued about colors, someone else argued about themes.
Everyone moved on, except Michael that is. You could feel it before you saw it.  He was quietly lost in thought.
The kind that always meant Michael had disappeared somewhere inside his own head. You looked over and his eyes weren't on the conversation. They were on your hand.
Specifically, on your engagement ring finger, which was bare. Uh-oh.
Instantly, you recognized the look on his face. It was the look he got when he was building something in his head. A song. A new idea for a short film. A dream.
The expression of a man quietly arranging the future.
He raised his eyes, meeting yours. Judging by the tenderness in his eyes, you had a feeling you knew what he was building.
The drive home from Hayvenhurst was quiet. The kind of quiet that lulls over you after a day so good it leaves your heart full. A day full of laughs, shared plates, and family time.
Streetlights reflected off the windows as rain drops fell heavily. The engine was humming quietly, and Stevie Wonder was playing on the radio. The leather seat was cool against your back, but Michaelâs hand on your thigh radiated steady heat through the thin fabric of your dress.
It had been there for most of the drive. His thumb moved in slow, absent circles, the same rhythm he used on your belly. Lately, Michael touched you constantly. A hand at your lower back. Your stomach. The nape of your neck or your cheek.Â
Always gentle and present. As though reassurance had become his new love-language.
You shifted slightly, adjusting the seatbelt over your growing belly. Immediately, his eyes flicked toward you.
âWhatâs wrong baby? You comfortable?â he asked, voice low and warm like melted honey.Â
There it was. The question youâd heard seventeen times today. You smiled âYes, Michael. Iâm fine.â
âYou sure?â His fingers flexed gently on your thigh, a protective little squeeze.
âMichael,â you laughed quietly.
âWhat? Just wanna make sure youâre okay.â The innocence in his tone was so genuine. His hand drifted higher, sliding tenderly over the full curve of your stomach. The warmth of his palm soaked through your clothes, grounding you.Â
Michael had gone quiet again. Not distracted. Thinking. You knew the difference by now. His thumb had stopped its gentle circling. You covered his hand with yours, threading your fingers between his.
âWhatâre you thinkinâ about? Talk to me.â
He blinked, returning to you. A breathy little laugh escaped him and his shoulders rose and fell with a soft sigh.
âMy mother surprised me today. I knew she would bring it up soonâŠâ
You squeezed his hand reassuringly.Â
âWhat, the wedding comment?â His face scrunched up in that boyish way that always made you fall in love with him a little harder. It was something he often did when a topic made him uncomfortable.
The city lights played across his high cheekbones as he drove. You watched the way his lashes cast shadows, the way his throat moved when he swallowed.Â
âShe meant well, baby. Thatâs just how mamas are. You know how important family is to her.â you said gently.
âI know.â His voice was quiet. Thoughtful. âI always wanted to be married before I had children.â The words landed softly between you, heavy with old dreams.Â
Then, Michael laughed to himself at an uninvited memory.
âI knew I wanted to marry you after our first dateâŠWanted to propose to you after the first month, but I wasnât sure if youâd say yesâ The world narrowed to the space between you.Â
The low music, the hum of the tires, the glow of the city, all of it faded. There was only Michael, looking at you like you were the only thing that mattered to him.
You felt him exhale, shaky and relieved. He turned his head just enough to press a lingering kiss to the center of your palm, lips soft and reverent.
âThe baby didnât change my mind,â he murmured against your skin. His free hand never left your belly, thumb resuming those slow, sacred circles. âIt just gave me a reason not to wait anymore.â
His hand spread wider across your belly, fingers splayed in quiet wonder, as if he could feel the babyâs heartbeat through your skin. He kept his eyes on the road, but his voice dropped to something even softer, raw and honest, the private Michael no one else ever got to hear.Â
Three days later, you woke up alone. That part wasnât unusual. Michael had always been an early riser. But the steady, distant sound of hammering echoing through the house was very unusual.
You blinked awake slowly, then pushed yourself up with a soft groan, one hand braced against your lower back and the other cradling the gentle curve of your stomach. At five months, the weight was still new enough to make every movement feel deliberate.
By the time you reached the bottom of the stairs, the living room looked like a hardware store had gently exploded. Outlet covers, cabinet locks, foam corner guardsâevery sharp edge in sight had already been softened. Corner guards on tables your baby wouldnât reach for years.
You stopped in the doorway, staring. Michael noticed you immediately. He looked up from where he was kneeling by an electrical outlet, and his whole face brightened like sunrise.Â
âBaby,â he breathed, setting the hammer down so fast it nearly clattered. The warm excited smile he gave you made you instantly forget the annoyance youâd had from being woken up.
He crossed the room in seconds, long strides eating up the distance. Before you could say anything about the ruckus he had been making, his arms were around you. Carefully, one hand settled at the small of your back, supporting the chronic ache that lived there now. His other hand slid tenderly over your belly, palm spreading wide as if greeting the baby and holding you both at once.Â
He leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, then another to your temple, his nose brushing your hair.
âHowâd you sleep, my love?â he murmured against your skin, voice still soft with morning. You rubbed your eyes, glancing around again.Â
âMichael⊠You know how I donât play about my sleep.â
He tilted his head, thumb already drawing those familiar slow circles over your stomach.Â
âHm?â You gestured helplessly at the chaos. âWhat is all this?âÂ
His expression stayed completely earnest.Â
âPreparinâ.â
You looked down at your stomach, then back at him.Â
âFor what, exactly?â
He smiled, small, shy, and so full of love it made your chest ache.Â
âFor the baby, of course.âÂ
Before you could tease him, he stepped closer, wrapping you more fully in his arms. His chin rested gently on top of your head as he held you against his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, the warmth of his body, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sawdust.
âIâm only five months along,â you said, half-laughing into his shirt.
âTime flies,â he whispered, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. Then lower, to the bridge of your nose. Then the corner of your mouth. Each one feather-light and full of adoration.Â
Your eyes caught on the coffee table: a stack of parenting books, a thick binder labeled Baby in neat handwriting, and What to Expect When Youâre Expecting lying open with colorful sticky tabs.
âHave you been studying?â you asked, pulling back just enough to look at him. Michael scratched the back of his neck and bit down on his bottom lip. His expression softened with quiet pride.Â
âA little bit.â He reached down and took your hand, guiding it to rest beside his on your belly.Â
âThe book says spinach is really good for keeping your iron levels up. I asked the chef to make sure he adds it to our grocery lists from now on.â
You stared at him like he was talking about rocket science. The man who performs for millions, was installing outlet covers in the wee hours of the morning and falling asleep reading pregnancy books with his glasses on.
You stared at him, and laughter bubbled up, helpless and teary. Michaelâs brows drew together instantly. Concern flooded his eyes.Â
âBaby?â His hands moved to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the moisture gathering at your lashes.Â
âWhatâs wrong? Are you hurting? Is it your back again?âÂ
You shook your head, still laughing softly as you leaned into his touch.Â
âIâm okay. Iâm more than okay.â
He searched your face for another second, then pulled you back against him, one arm wrapped securely around your shoulders while the other stayed protectively over your stomach. His lips brushed the shell of your ear.
âI justâŠâ His voice dropped, shy and vulnerable. âI waited my whole life to be somebodyâs daddy. I donât wanna mess it up. I wanna be ready.âÂ
The tenderness in his words hit you square in the chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist and held him tighter, pressing your cheek to his chest.
âYouâre not going to mess it up,â you whispered. âLook at all this. Youâre already the best daddy this baby could ever have.â
Michael exhaled shakily, then tilted your chin up with gentle fingers so he could kiss you properly, slow and deep. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes closed, breathing you in.
âI love you,â he murmured. âBoth of you. I just want to make sure that you both have everything you need. Itâs my job as a father, a provider and importantly, your man.â His hand never left your belly. The house was quiet, filled with the certainty that this man would move heaven and earth for the family he was building.
By month six, Michael had become impossible. Not difficult or moody. Just impossible, in the most loving, all-consuming way. You had known Michael for years. Long enough to understand that when he loved something, he loved it with his entire being. No half measures. No moderation. Once it claimed his heart, he wrapped both hands around it and held on with quiet ferocity.
Pregnancy was no exception.
âBaby.â
You froze, eyes closing slowly. You already knew that tone. Michael stood in the kitchen doorway holding a fresh glass of water, condensation sliding down the sides. Not one youâd poured. One he had. His brows lifted expectantly, soft brown eyes full of gentle concern.
âYou havenât finished this one.â
You glanced at the half-full glass beside you from twenty minutes ago, then back at him. âMichaelâŠâ His expression softened instantly, not because he was backing down, but because he thought you might be tired. He crossed to you with that careful stride he used now, as if the floor itself might shift beneath your feet.
He set the new glass down, then crouched in front of you without a word. His hands reached for your shoes and began untying them with patient care. His fingers brushed your ankles, warm and sure. You blinked.Â
âMichael⊠what are you doing?â
âHm?â He looked up, completely sincere. âYou shouldnât bend over, baby. Your center of gravity is changing.â The words were so earnestly delivered, and steeped in all the books heâd devoured, that a helpless laugh escaped you.Â
He finished removing your shoes, then stayed there, gently rubbing your calves with slow, soothing strokes. His thumbs pressed into the tired muscles in exactly the right places, the kind of touch that came from months of learning your body.
âBetter?â he asked softly, voice low and warm. He pressed a tender kiss just below your knee before rising again. You swallowed. Yes. It was better. You hated how much better it felt.Â
Before you could answer, the phone rang. It sat on the receiver near the end of the counter, only a few feet away. You instinctively leaned slightly to reach for it.
Instantly, Michaelâs hand was at your waist, steady, grounding, protective. His palm splayed wide across your lower back. His other hand found your belly, cradling the round swell.
âCareful,â he murmured, lips brushing your temple as he leaned in close. You could smell the faint trace of his cologne and the warmth of his skin. For a moment his cheek rested against your hair, breathing you in like he still couldnât quite believe you were real.
You didnât know what it was. Maybe it was that the constant physical affection had suddenly become overstimulating. Maybe it was the feeling that you were losing some of your independence.
You didnât know. But, something inside you snapped. He was so right, so constant and so loving, that you felt like your body no longer belonged to you alone. You pulled away, not harshly, but enough.
âMichael.â You said sharply.
His hands lingered for half a second before falling gently away. Concern flooded his eyes.Â
âWhatâs wrong?â
You exhaled shakily. âIâm pregnant. Iâm not made of glass.â
The words landed heavier than you meant them to. Silence settled between you. Michael blinked once, the soft light from the kitchen window catching the sudden vulnerability in his face. The concern in his eyes didnât vanish, it simply shifted, growing quieter, smaller, more fragile.Â
His hand lifted halfway toward you, then stopped. He lowered it.
âSo I shouldnât help you?â he asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was no defensiveness in it. Only quiet hurt and genuine confusion. Like a little boy whoâd been trying his very best and still got it wrong. The guilt hit you instantly.Â
You watched him lower his gaze for a moment, thinking, Then he gave a small nod, accepting. Adjusting. Making room for what you needed even when it stung.
âOkay,â he said softly. No argument. No guilt trip. Just Michael, trying so hard to love you and the baby right that it made your chest ache. You stepped forward before you could overthink it.Â
âMichael, waitâ
He looked up, and you reached for him, sliding your arms around his waist. He melted into the embrace immediately, wrapping you up with infinite care. One hand returned to your back, the other cradling the side of your belly as he tucked you against his chest. His chin rested on top of your head, and you felt him press a lingering kiss into your hair, then another to your forehead.
âIâm sorry,â you whispered into his shirt. âI know youâre just trying to take care of us.â
His arms tightened gently. You felt the slow, soothing circles of his thumb over your stomach. The gesture that had become your shared language. His voice was quiet, warm, and full of emotion when he finally spoke.
âI just love you both so much,â he murmured, lips brushing your temple. âSometimes I donât know how to hold it all without⊠holding you.âÂ
You closed your eyes and leaned deeper into him, letting his warmth and the steady beat of his heart surround you. His hand never left your belly. Even now, even in this small moment of friction, he held you like you were the most precious thing heâd ever been given.Â
And in his arms, frustrated and emotional and deeply loved, you understood once again: this impossible man was going to be the most incredible father.
The rest of the afternoon passed quietly. Or rather, as quietly as life with Michael ever really allowed. True to his word, he had given you real space. No hovering. No soft footsteps near the doorway every few minutes. Just⊠absence.Â
And somehow that made you feel worse. By evening, the house had grown still. Golden sunlight stretched long and warm across the hardwood floors. The television murmured faintly downstairs, a low, comforting hum.Â
You were sitting alone in your bedroom, one hand resting on the firm curve of your six-month belly, when you realized something deeply inconvenient: You missed him. The baby shifted beneath your palm, just a soft flutter, not quite a kick yet. You gasped, Michael was missing this. Instantly. You were emotional.
Pregnancy had turned your emotions into a minefield; tears came whether you wanted them or not. You replayed the kitchen scene again and again. The way his hands had fallen away from you. That small, quiet hurt in his eyes. The soft sting of someone who was trying so hard and still got it wrong.
Your throat tightened. He hadnât done anything wrong. He loved with his whole body, his whole heart, the way he did everything. And beneath all the books and the outlet covers and the endless glasses of water, you understood why.
Michael had waited his entire life to become somebodyâs daddy. You pushed yourself up from the bed slowly, one hand braced on your lower back as you waddled toward the hallway. At six months, grace had officially left the chat.Â
Downstairs, the den glowed with the soft flicker of the television. You paused in the doorway, and your heart folded in on itself.Â
Michael was asleep on the couch, curled into the corner like heâd tried to make himself smaller. One arm rested across his chest, reading glasses slightly askew on his nose. A pregnancy book lay open against his stomach, a colorful sticky note peeking out. The golden light painted gentle shadows across his face.Â
Without stage lights or makeup, he looked younger. Softer. Just Michael. Your Michael. You crossed the room quietly. Curiosity, and love, won. You lifted the edge of the page with careful fingers. His neat, tiny handwriting stared back at you: Ask doctor about back pain.
Buy more ginger tea.  And below that, written even smaller,: Tell baby and mama I love them every day. The tears came instantly. Hot, fast, and completely unstoppable. You blinked hard, but it was useless. Pregnancy had turned you into a watering can.
As if he could sense you even in sleep, Michael stirred. His lashes fluttered. The moment his sleepy eyes found you, his whole face changed, a look he saved only for you.Â
âBaby?â His voice was rough with sleep, warm and concerned all at once.
That was all it took. Fresh tears spilled over. You crossed the last few steps and curled into him without a word. Michael sat up immediately, arms wrapping around you with instinctive tenderness.Â
One hand found the small of your back, gently pressing his fingertips into the chronic ache that lived there. As always, his palm found your belly. His palm spreading wide as if to hold both of you at once. He tucked you against his chest, cheek resting on top of your head, breathing you in.
âYou okay? Tell me how I can help.â he whispered, lips brushing your hair.
You shook your head against him, voice muffled by his shirt. âIâm sorry.â
He went still for half a second, then his hand began slow, soothing circles on your back. His other thumb traced the same gentle rhythm over your belly.
âOh, baby,â he breathed, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your temple, the bridge of your nose. âYou donât ever gotta apologize for how you feel.â
You sniffled, curling tighter into his warmth. He smelled like home, faint cologne, laundry softener, and the subtle sweetness of the ginger tea heâd probably been drinking. His arms tightened around you, careful but sure, like he was holding the most precious thing heâd ever been given.
âI didnât mean to hurt your feelings,â you whispered.
His lips found your forehead again, lingering there.Â
âI know.â
Michael exhaled shakily, then kissed you again, deeper this time, full of relief and love and all the things he didnât know how to say. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, one hand still cradling your stomach like it was the center of his universe.
The television kept murmuring in the background. Golden light slowly faded into twilight. But in that moment, nothing else mattered. Just the two of you, and the tiny life growing between you, wrapped safely in arms that had waited decades to hold this dream.
warnings: jealousy, pettiness, making out, possessiveness, happy ending, fluff.
summary: michael points at Lisa during his performance. you decide two can play that game. unfortunately for both of you, neither one knows when to stop being petty.
you were not looking at michael. absolutely not. not even a little bit. okay, maybe once. but that was it. from your seat in the audience, you watched the stage lights flash across the arena while trying your hardest to focus on literally anything else. the crowd, the cameras, the presenters, the ceiling. anything except the man sitting a few rows away from you looking unfairly good tonight. it wasnât helping that michael knew exactly how to dress when he wanted attention.
the leather black outfit. the gold accents. the curls falling perfectly around his face. the confidence. it was annoying, honestly. especially because the two of you were currently in the middle of what could only be described as the worldâs dumbest argument. neither of you could even remember how it started anymore.
one petty comment became another, then another. then suddenly both of you were refusing to call first. refusing to apologize first. refusing to be the bigger person. which meant that for the last week youâd both been acting ridiculous. and unfortunately for you, michael looked incredible while doing it. you quickly looked away when you caught yourself staring. girl, stand up. the last thing you needed was for him to catch you checking him out. his ego was already big enough.
still, when his performance began, your attention immediately drifted back to the stage. because no matter how annoyed you were with him, michael jackson performing was michael jackson performing. and that man knew how to command a room.
the audience was completely captivated. including you. you hated that. every move looked effortless, every spin, every pose, every second of it. you found yourself smiling despite your best efforts. then it happened. that moment. the point. toward lisa. your smile disappeared instantly. you sat there blinking. oh. oh, thatâs what weâre doing tonight? you watched him continue performing like nothing happened. like he hadnât just started a war. when he glanced toward the audience afterward, you couldâve sworn you caught the tiniest hint of satisfaction on his face. which only made it worse. your jaw tightened. fine. if michael wanted to play games⊠you could play too.
backstage later, assistants rushed around while stylists made final adjustments before your performance. the energy behind the curtain was very chaotic. everyone seemed nervous, everyone except you. you were focused. determined. and maybe just a little petty. okay. a lot petty. âyou ready?â one of your dancers asked. you nodded. âmore than ready.â you took one last look in the mirror. your outfit was perfect. your hair looked amazing. everything was exactly how you wanted it. except for one thing. a certain jackson.
you hated how easily he could get under your skin. you hated how one stupid little gesture during a performance had managed to stay in your head for the last hour. and you especially hated the fact that you already knew he was somewhere out there watching. probably expecting a reaction. probably expecting you to be jealous. well. if he wanted a reaction⊠he was definitely about to get one. the stage manager gave you the signal. showtime. you smiled. âletâs go.â and somewhere out in the audience, michael jackson had absolutely no idea what was coming.
the second you stepped onto the stage, the crowd exploded. the roar of the audience washed over you immediately, adrenaline rushing through your veins as the lights hit. this was your element. your kingdom. and for the next few minutes, you planned on making full use of it. somewhere out there in the crowd sat michael. watching. whether he wanted to admit it or not. the thought alone made you smile. you moved confidently across the stage, feeding off the energy from the audience as cheers echoed throughout the arena. back in his seat, michaelâs eyes never left you.
he tried acting casual. he really did. but it wasnât working. because despite everything, he was completely captivated. he always was. it didnât matter how many times heâd seen you perform. didnât matter how many rehearsals heâd watched, didnât matter how many award shows, concerts, appearances, or television performances. you still managed to leave him speechless. every single time. his friend sitting beside him noticed immediately. âyou know youâre staring, right?â michael didnât even blink.
âiâm watching the performance.â âmhm.â âi am.â âthatâs why you havenât looked away once.â michael ignored him. because unfortunately he was correct. and then things got worse. much worse. because suddenly another figure appeared on stage. the audience erupted. jay-z. michael immediately sat up straighter. ââŠoh.â his friend burst out laughing.
âoh, youâre finished.â âwhat?â âlook at your face.â âmy face is fine.â it was not fine. not even close. especially when jay walked over beside you. you looked completely comfortable together laughing, smiling, sharing the stage effortlessly. michael hated how comfortable it looked. his jaw tightened. then tightened some more ârelax.â âi am relaxed.â âmichael.â âiâm perfectly relaxed.â
he looked like he wanted to fight somebody. meanwhile, you were having the time of your life. every time the camera found you, your smile seemed brighter. every time jay leaned over to rap his verse, michaelâs eye twitched. you werenât doing anything wrong. technically. but you definitely werenât making things easier. especially because a tiny part of you knew exactly what you were doing. and exactly who was watching. when the performance finally ended, the crowd jumped to their feet. standing ovation. cheers everywhere, you stood at center stage smiling while taking in the applause. for a brief moment your eyes drifted toward the audience. toward michael. and there he was. already looking at you. his expression unreadable.
but his stare? oh. you knew that stare. you had known it for a long time. your smile widened. just slightly. his eyes narrowed immediately. and suddenly you felt much better about that little lisa situation.
ââââàšà§ââââ
backstage afterward was chaos. everyone wanted to congratulate you. from producers, dancers, artists, friends. people were hugging you, praising the performance, telling you how incredible it was. you thanked them all politely. but your attention kept drifting elsewhere. because michael still hadnât come over. which was unusual. very unusual. normally heâd be the first person backstage.
the first hug. the first congratulations. the first kiss against your forehead when nobody was looking. but tonight? nothing. you already knew why. which honestly made you want to laugh. a few minutes later, you finally spotted him. standing across the room. arms folded. watching you. you excused yourself from the conversation you were having and casually walked over. âhi.ââhi.â
you blinked. that was it? just hi? you fought back a smile, âdid you like the performance?â âit was good.â good. not amazing. not incredible. not the greatest thing heâd seen all night. just good. you almost laughed right there. âgood? âmhm.â âthatâs all?â he shrugged.
you stared. he stared back. the tension between you couldâve powered the entire building. finally you folded your arms âwhatâs your problem?â michael looked offended. âmy problem?â âyes, your problem.â he let out a short laugh. âiâm not the one with the problem.â âreallyâ âreally.â âokay.â âokay.â you both stood there. silent. stubborn. refusing to give in. until finally michael spoke. âyou seemed very friendly with jay z.â there it was. you nearly smiled. nearly. âand you seemed very friendly with lisa.â his jaw clenched immediately.
his jaw clenched immediately. score. for a moment, neither of you said anything. you just stood there staring at each other while people rushed around backstage completely oblivious to the silent battle happening between you. finally michael sighed. the kind of sigh that suggested he was already tired of this conversation.
âthatâs different.â you let out a laugh. âhow?â âbecause it is.â âgreat explanation.â âyou know what i mean.âactually, i donât.â michael rolled his eyes. you almost gasped. âdid you just roll your eyes at me?â âdid you just bring jay z on stage to make me jealous?â you placed a hand over your chest. âmichael joseph jackson.â âthatâs not an answer.â âand thatâs not an answer either.â âyes it is.â
âno, it isnât.â âyes, it is.â âno.â âyes.â âno.â his friend walking past suddenly stopped. looked between both of you. then immediately turned around and walked away. smart man. you and michael continued staring each other down. neither willing to back down. neither willing to admit the obvious. which was that both of you were being completely ridiculous.
âyou know what?â michael said. âwhat?â âi donât care.â you nodded. âgood.â âgood. âgreat.â âgreat.â the second the words left his mouth, both of you knew he was lying. badly. horribly. embarrassingly badly. because michael had many talents. lying when he was jealous was not one of them.
you smiled. just a little. his eyes narrowed immediately. âstop smiling.â âwhy?â âbecause youâre enjoying this.â you couldnât even deny it. âmaybe a little.â. âunbelievable.â âwhat?â âyou know exactly what youâre doing.â you laughed.
âthatâs funny coming from you.â âwhatâs that supposed to mean?â you stepped closer. âyou pointed at lisa.â his head immediately tilted back in frustration.
âweâre still talking about that?â âyes.â âit was one point.â âone point?â âone point.â âone very intentional point.â he groaned dramatically. which only made you feel more justified. âyou knew iâd see it.â âi did not.â âmichael.â ââŠokay maybe i did.â âthank you.â âbut you brought jay z.â âfor the performance.â âmhm.â âhe was literally part of the performance.â âmhm.âyou were both smiling now despite yourselves. because neither of you could keep a straight face anymore. the argument was stupid. you knew it
he knew it. yet somehow neither of you wanted to let it go. âyou were jealous.â michael pointed at you. âyou were jealous first.â âbecause you pointed at lisa.â âbecause you were ignoring me.â âbecause you were being annoying.â âbecause you were being stubborn.â âbecause you wereââ he suddenly stopped. you blinked âbecause i was what?â michael looked away. immediately. your eyes narrowed.
âwhat?â ânothing.â âmichael.â ânothing.â âmichael.â he rubbed a hand over his face. and suddenly something about his expression changed. the teasing. it all softened. just a little. when he looked back at you, his voice was quieter. âi didnât like it.â you blinked. âdidnât like what?â his jaw tightened. clearly debating whether he wanted to say it. then finally, âseeing him with you.â your heart did the tiniest little flip. michael looked annoyed about admitting it. very annoyed. which somehow made it sweeter. âwhy?â he stared at you like the answer shouldâve been obvious. âyou really have to ask?â you bit back a smile. âmaybe.â he shook his head. âbecause i didnât like it.â âmichaelââ âi know it was part of the performance.â âokay.â âi know you werenât doing anything.â âokay.â âi know.â you nodded. he exhaled. then looked directly at you. âi still didnât like it.â for a moment the noise backstage seemed to fade away. because suddenly the petty argument wasnât so funny anymore.
a few moments later he walks you to his dressing room, its quiet, just the soft hum of distant music from backstage. michael sits on the edge of his velvet couch, still in white button up, with a few already unbuttoned. hair slightly damp from performing. he looks up at you eyes intense but tender. "baby... I did see that look on your face when I pointed to lisa." he stands slowly and walks toward you, taking your hands gently in his. âthat wasnât about her⊠it was for show. you know how this industry is gotta give âem something flashy."
a small pout forms your lips, âi know michael, sometimes i just wish we could let everyone know about us so we wouldnât have to be this discrete.â michaelâs face softens completely. he cups your cheeks with both hands, his thumbs gently brushing over your skin like you're the most precious thing in the world. his was voice low and sweet, "oh, my love⊠i want that too. more than anything."
he leans down slowly so slowly and kisses you softly on the lips. a tender kiss full of longing and years of hidden feelings finally breaking free. when he pulls back just an inch, his eyes stay closed for a second as if savoring it... then they flutter open to meet yours. you bite your lip trying to hold back a smile on your face slowly looking around the dressing room, âhow much longer do u think we have before someone comes barging in telling us to go?â
michael follows your gaze, around the room cluttered with flowers, champagne bottles, and his glittering costume pieces. he chuckles softly, a warm rich sound that vibrates through his chest. âwe got about⊠ten minutes before publicists start knocking like vultures." without warning, he grabs your hand and pulls you toward him again, but this time spins you once playfully before kissing your forehead. michael gently guides you down onto the plush velvet couch, his hands steady and warm. the sequins on his jacket catch the dim golden light from the lamps. he sits beside you, then turns to face you fully, knees touching yours. with a quiet tenderness, he lifts one hand to brush your hair behind your ear⊠then leans in slowly.
the air between you feels electric, not with tension now, but with love thatâs been waiting too long to be free. and then he kisses you again. deeper this time. softer than before⊠like a promise being sealed. michael pulls back from the kiss just slightly, his lips still close to yours. he exhales a quiet laugh, half frustration, half amusement, and rests his forehead against yours. michael bent down whispering with a playful sigh, "mmm⊠I'd much rather be somewhere with a bed right now. or at least less publicist proof walls."
you giggle, and push him lightly on the chest before sitting up fully. "we donât have time for that, mr. jackson! they gonâ come knocking any second!" the teasing tone in your voice makes michael pout dramatically, the way only he can. the second you're on his lap, michaelâs arms lock around your waist like iron, tight, claiming. thereâs no hesitation this time. bis kiss hits you with deep possessive in the way only a man who loves someone fiercely can be. no softness now⊠just raw emotion, months of hidden glances and stolen moments pouring into one intense embrace. one hand cradles the back of your head while the other presses firmly against your lower back to pull you closer as if he could melt you into him. his lips move over yours desperately⊠like he's trying to brand himself onto yours. the knock startles both of you, but michael doesnât pull away completely. just breaks the kiss for a breath, his lips still brushing yours as he calls out in that smooth, calm voice he uses with staff.
âyeah! Iâm fine, just changing!" then the doorknob jiggles slightly. panic flashes in your eyes, and suddenly youâre both stifling giggles like teenagers caught sneaking around. michael rests his forehead against yours again, laughing quietly, a rare sound so warm and boyish it makes your heart skip.
âwe look ridiculous right now michael.â you laugh shaking your head. he was still smiling against your lips before kissing them once more softly, âno more petty stuff from me.â he said holding up his hand, âpromise." you tilted your head pretending to think about it, âi canât say the same,â you grinned. âbut you know iâll try.â a laugh slips past your lips before you leaned in a and pressed a quick peck to his lips before he could react. before he could respond, you grab your purse and headed towards the door. the sound of your heels clicking the floor echoing thru the room.
âyouâre impossible,â michael called after you. âand yet you love me.â reaching the door, you glanced back over your shoulder, michael was still standing exactly where you left him. his head shook slowly as a smile tugged the corners of his mouth, he bit the inside of his cheek, trying and failing, to hide how amused he was. the look on his face made your own smile grow. âyou coming?â michael left out a soft laugh and walked towards you, iâm right behind you baby.â
Warnings!: Smut, 18+, MDNI, READER ISNT A SPECIFIC RACE! JUST A PICTURE, Apology Sex, Michael is in the wrong, Oral(F Receiver), Curse words, Genital claiming(is that even a thing??), Dacryphillia?, Heâs lowkey manipulative, Mature era, Reader says she hates him twice (she doesnât mean it), Only my second time publishing
Michael made a promise he couldnât keep and you havenât spoken to him in three days. Now youâre a member of the mile-high club. 1219 words
You sat with your legs crossed as you toyed with the window cover on the plane. Private plane to be exact.
Your nail tapped lightly against the plastic edge, lifting it just enough to let a thin strip of light cut across your face before you slid it back down again. Up. Down. Up. Down.
You and Michael had just gotten into your third argument this week. It was his fault again. He promised you on his own that he wouldn't been too touchy with his dancers on his own, you hadn't even asked him for that.
But he still broke his own promise, doing things that weren't rehearsed whatsoever. Un-choreographed touches and butt slapping and hand grabbing. Deep down you knew it meant nothing but it still hurt to watch.
So right now you were giving him the famous silent treatment. No touching, no talking, no acknowledgement. Just you silently letting him know how pissed you were.
You guys were on the way back home to Beverly Hills so the both of you could finally rest from his work.
"You still not speaking to me?" His voice cut through the silence, soft and attentive. Your fingers continued you open the window cover, of course making sure it didn't reach Michael.
"I said 'm sorry baby" he practically whined. This was day three of not talking and you were driving him every bit of insane. You blew a bubble with your bubble gum, causing Michael to sigh.
Your finger paused once he came and sat beside you, your eyes dropping to the floor. "You're still mad?" He asked as if it wasn't obvious.
"Yes I'm still mad Michael." You finally spoke, earning a sigh of relief from him that you were even speaking. "I said I apologize" he frowned.
"Just because you said it doesn't mean I have to forgive you Michael. You hurt my feelings and broke my trust."
"Michael I didn't even ask you to promise me but you did it yourself and now you've made your bed." You blinked to hold back your tears that you'd been holding for three days, failing as they were now covering your face.
"...I'm sleepy 'm gonna take a nap." You stood, wiping the tears from your eyes. He watched as you walked past, following once you weren't in his way.
Once you were finally in the room you turned to face him. He was already close behind you with his arms open. Before you knew it his arms were wrapped around you, leaving you no room to fight. "Move, Michael" you protested, your next words stuck in your throat once his lips found your neck.
Your neck! Your turn on spot and he knew damn well what it did to you. "I hate you" you muttered. You and Michael knew you weren't serious but that was probably what you felt at the moment.
"I love you too baby." He spoke against the now damp spot on your skin. The tears never stopped falling from your eyes. Michael's hand held your chin as he came up from your neck, to look at your face.
"You look so pretty cryin' f'me. I'm sorry mama" he planted kisses along the stream of tears that ran down your face, the hand that was on your chin now on the back of your head.
His lips found their way to yours, peppering kisses on them. He deepened the kiss, hand now on your waist.
His hands slid under your shirt, pulling it up just a bit. You raised your arms to allow him to take it off. "Take your pants off f'me" he muttered against your neck.
you removed your pants, hooking your arms around the back of his neck immediately after. He sat you on the plush bed, lowering to his knees in front of you.
âYouâre so pretty. All this fâmeâ His thumb ran over your glistening slit. Your breath shuddered at the touch of his cold hands. His fingers opened your lips to expose your clitoris to him. His lips wrapped around your aching nub, your back arching away from the bed.
His middle and ring finger found your leaky hole, the two of them gathering the natural lubricant that leaked from you before he pulled back to lick it off of his fingers, groaning at the taste.
His lips found your clit once again, his fingers going inside of you now. You let out a soft moan, your hands finding the back of his head. The way he made you cum so quick every time just from head was annoying to an extent, but God did you love it.
âMichael!â You shouted, letting him know to keep his pace. The orgasm ripped through your body, Michael finding your urethra to catch every last drop.
Still on his knees, Michael removed his shirt. He stood, slipping his pants off as well, his painfully hard dick now twitching at the sudden exposure to your presence.
He sat on the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap. He grabbed the base of his dick, using the tip of it to find your hole. Once there he led you to sit on it.
You buried your head in the crook of his neck, him doing the same to you. The sudden fullness feeling to be too much for you. Not even moving yet you moaned anyway.
His hands slid under your thighs to hold you up, his hips doing all of the work.
He thrusted into you slow and meaningful, a cry like moan escaping your lips. âI hate you, Michaelâ You moaned, causing him to nod. âI know baby, Iâm sorryâ he whimpered.
He sped up a bit, earning a loud moan from you. Neither of your cared of the flight attendants or staff heard, this was his plane any damn ways.
âFuckâ you whined as he sucked your neck, sometimes light bites. He knew your body just as well as you did. âThis dick is yours mamaâ he spoke in your ear. âLet me hear you, say itâs yours.â
âItâs mine.â You managed to get out. âYes. Itâs fuckin yours. Itâs yoursâ he whined, obviously feeling just as much pleasure as your were from how tight you were wrapped around him.
ââS mineâ you moaned in his ear, Michael quickly nodded his head, his hands coming up to grip your ass.
âIm close Mama. Can you cum with me?â His strokes became a bit sloppy as the climax approached. âYes Michael, Iâm right thereâ you whimpered, head buried in the crook of his neck.
âMmh shitâ you whispered, throwing your head.
A violent moan ripped from the both of your chests, his cum coating the inside of your pussy and yours dripping down on his dick.
âYâ ok?â He asked, not pulling out yet, earning a slow nod from you. âIâm sleepyâ you kissed all over his face before climbing off of his lap and onto the empty spot on the bed.
Michael stood, walking to the bathroom to get a couple of baby wipes. Once back in the room, he wiped you clean before covering you with the duvet. He ignored his still hard dick and laid down as well.
âSleep good fâmeâ he planted a kiss on your forehead.
A/N: Only wrote this cuz i wanted yn to say she hated Michael
mature/history/dangerous era!michael x young!mean!girlfriend!reader
tw|| age gap, mean girl behavior, raunchy talk, slight hints of immaturity, n-word, Michael actually does put his foot, he ends up feeling bad tho, reader doesnât mind at all, it highkey lowkey turns her on
I actually really like the idea of this being a series/multi part thing in the same universe. I have a few ideas for mean!reader! But Iâm open to other ideas too if anyone has anyđ
âYou always been this stupid or is this like a new thing for you?â You popped your gum and tilted your head at the young lady. Her hands started to tremble as she stared at you through the reflection of the mirror.
Ever since you started dating Michael you sorta became an unofficial supervisor over music videos. Casting went through you before it was finalized by him, same with wardrobe and makeup. Lord knows Michael appreciated it too. You listened to him ramble on and on about his ideas and visions enough that you always knew what heâd be looking for. If you watched enough HGTV you might be able to start giving confident advice on set design and props.
So when the makeup artist stayed silent and looked at you with a shocked expression you scoffed getting more irritated. You waved her off with a manicured hand, âMove. Youâre dismissed for the day.â You stated taking her place and grabbing a brush. In the chair before you was a dancer whose eyes were bouncing back and forth between you two like she were watching a tennis match.
âWhat? I-âŠlike go home?â
You opened your mouth but shut up quickly as you swallowed down the urge to cuss her out. Your eyes closed as you found the strength before opening them again and looking at her. âQuite frankly I donât care where you go itâs just gotta be off this set.â You looked down and started grabbing makeup brushes to finish her work, âyouâll be compensated for the work you have done though. Thank you and goodbye.â Your tone left no room for arguing as did the bored look on your face. You rolled your eyes hard as you heard small sniffles coming from her as she hurriedly left.
As you filled in and did the dancerâs makeup, Michael is approached by the lead makeup artist. Their hesitation to speak automatically let him know it had something to do with you. It wouldnât be the first time someone came up to him because you decided to tweak something last minute without telling him. He was fully prepared to tell them to go along with your idea and get back to fixing dancers placements but not everything works out that way.
âI know you dance and all but have you ever thought of modeling? You have a face that sends off ships, my god Iâm jealous.â You mutter to the dancer as you finished up. Her bashful giggle hitting your ears and making you in turn giggle. The girlish giggle fest was interrupted by large hands finding your shoulders and holding you back against a firm chest.
âWe need to talk.â
You huff and turn to see Michael, âdonât do that! You know Iâm jumpyâŠâ you side eyed him as you turned as if you were going back to the dancer.
Before you could fully turn Michael grabbed your arm with a low âgirl come on.â And tugged you off somewhere private. âWhat is your problem?â Came his stern voice.
Blink.
Blink. Blink.
âNigga what? You just yanked me away! What is your problem?â You were the definition of baffled as you looked at him with an expression of pure confusion.
He crossed his arms, âYou sent a girl home crying? What happened?!â
âOh!â You relaxed and shrugged, âyeah but itâs not my fault sheâs sensitive.â You brushed it off, âI told her she would be paid so chill.â Your legs moving to head back out when you were swiftly pulled back.
âNo. Iâve let you slide too many times when it comes to things like this.â He shook his head. Your eyes following the curls that managed to somehow evade him when he pulled his hair back. He grabbed your attention again when he started speaking again, âYou canât call everyone sensitive when you upset them.â
âBut she wasnât-â
âIâm not finished.â Oh! You blinked and closed your mouth. His eyes were harder and narrowed. He wasnât playing. âIâve told you time and time again, baby. You need to watch how you talk to people. Not everyone has thick skin. You come off as mean and rude and itâs going to stop. Okay?â
You nodded slowly. Your mind still trying to process how attractive that was and how the room suddenly felt warm.
Michaelâs face softened and his large hands came and cradled your face gently, âI donât like fussing at you, sweet girl. Just try being a little nicer? For me?â He placed a kiss on your forehead.
As he pulled back your hand shot out and grabbed the waistband of his pants making him freeze. He glanced down while your eyes stayed on him.
âWha-â
You squinted, âYou think you can just put me in my place looking good as fuck and just leave like nothing happened?â
His face flushed and a bashful expression found his face. When he opened his mouth to speak you quickly placed a finger over it.
âNo! No, no. No speaking. Just need you to give a quick lesson in being nice.â
Could you do a fic where singer reader is performing and someone throws something at her and Michael runs on stage
ooh i like this! you didnât specify what era so i just chose otw! NOT proofread at all
you were the opener for the jackson 5 on their newest tour. you had know them since they started making music, as your father was a producer at motown. you particularly were fond of michael (as was he of you) and while your relationship wasnât public, you had been going steady for a few months! he loved having a genuine person to talk to, someone his age. someone who understood the pressure of the music industry and grew up in it too. you were happy to be there of course. with your relationship still in that new, sappy, lovey stage so being near michael and performing was a win win.
speaking of performing, as soon as both of you were in costume and cleared from hair and makeup you were all over one another. on the couch in his dressing room, hands wandering. a euphoric feeling that only came with young love emitting throughout both your bodies, accompanying the pre-show jitters. as you pulled away for air, michael rested his forehead against your own. âare you excited ladybug?â he murmured, not wanting to break the soft silence of the moment. âobviously i am mikey, jusâ a little nervousâ you responded, rubbing your thumb across his cheek.
âyâgot nothing to nervous about sweetsâ, he started pausing to continue the kiss. he loved the feeling of your soft, painted lips against his own. he shifted his mouth over to kiss just outside of your lips, âi know mikey, just not my usual crowd out thereâ you smiled, feeling him hum in acknowledgment. you loved talking to him, he always listened so intently no matter what was on his own mind. before he could respond, three sharp knocks came through the door, indicating showtime.
âpromise youâll be in the wings watching?â you said, giving him one last kiss. âwhere else would i be?â michael answered, always giving you reassurance.
when you walked out on to the stage, you felt the light heat your full body. the sequins of your flared pants swished with each step you took. as you walked up to the microphone, you gave a wave to the crowd and one to the band. signaling to start the music. new wave jazz funk filled the speakers, and your voice carried perfectly. this song made you think about the boy waiting to see you backstage, who helped you write it. the memory brought an even bigger smile to your face. towards the chorus, you noticed a bit of commotion from the pit directly in front of you. brushing it off as maybe dancing or crazy jackson fans you continued. as the final bridge begun, you picked up the mic and danced. when you descended further downstage for the final chorus you raised your arms, smiling at the fans copying you.
it was in that moment you felt it, a rough stone hit your eye during the ending. as soon as contact was made it sent pain through your body, you grabbed the throbbing area and hunched over. tightly shutting your eyes as gasps ran through the crowd. the very next second you were in someoneâs arms, you could tell it was michael by the way he held you against him.
âim right here ladybug, my love can you open your eyes for me?â he whispered softly to you, not caring for the crowd as he turned his back to it. âmy love speak to me, please. can only help if you let me seeâ. at his pleads you softly raised your head â just enough to bring your mouth to his ear. âtake me off mikey- take me off pleaseâ you whimpered out. âits ok, i got youâ he repeated as you both practically flew off stage.
the next few minutes remained a blur as you kept your eyes shut. you heard yelling, security orders, and screaming from the crowd outside. the only thing keeping you sane was the fact that michael kept you in his arms the whole time. sitting you down on the couch, and even when the paramedics arrived for first aid you stayed tucked in his side. he didnât say much then, watching as they flushed your eye with saline. they assured both michael and your father it looked worse than it was, just some bruising and soreness was to be expected. however none of this calmed the silent anger in your boyfriends body.
when your dad stepped out to talk to the security it left you and him alone, michael gave kisses to your hairline as he held the ice pack to your eye. âyou think iâll have a cool scar?â you asked, attempting to break the silence. it did for a minute when you felt him smile. âim sorry for this honey kiss, promise itâll be dealt withâ he said rubbing his free hand down your spine. you didnât answer, knowing no matter how much reassurance he got he would feel a little responsible. âi got really scared, i saw it hit you⊠holding you scared like that it-â he didnât need to continue. you both knew how crazy fans can get. you both have had your fare share of run ins with aggressive paparazzi.
âthank you baby, im okayâ you said, grabbing and interlacing your fingers with his. âand itâll be cute watching the footage later, can already see the headlinesâ Jackson 5 star Michael Jackson seen comforting possible lover after fan attacks!â you laughed with michael, kissing him again. âas long as theyâre doing it from a distance they can say whatever and i couldnât care lessâ
Pairing: Jaafar Jackson x Black!OC Amara Jackson
Summary: Jaafar shows his love by caring for Amara after a wild night out.
Songs: The Impossible by Mariah Carey
WC:
Warnings: 18+ suggestive content
Note: headcanon from the miniseries I have for them <3
SHE LOVED HIM LIKE LEMON DROP MARTINIS ON A THURSDAY EVENINGâŠSWEETLY. EXCITINGLY. IMPULSIVELYâŠ
âYou gonâ give me any space?â
âNo.â
She stayed behind him. Swaying like a boat on the water, left hand locked tightly around her wrist. Her cheek, damp from the nightâs heat and slippery foundation, pressed against his back as he stood above her side of the dresser, rummaging through the drawers.
âWell,â he said lowly, pulling out her favorite blue nightgown, âYou gotta let me go.â
âWhy?â She whined into his back, her teeth biting the fabric in frustration.
Jaafar glanced over his shoulder and chuckled. âSo you can get dressed.â The drawer hissed closed, and he turned in her arms, balancing her nightgown in one hand and her full hip in the other.
Amara pouted and blinked slowly. âYou do it.â
âI will.â Jaafar dropped a kiss against her temple. âCâmon.â
He led her to the bed, their hands tangled together like a memory and sat her at the edge. Amara huffed quietly and leaned back on her hands, head lulling heavily to the side. âIâm tired.â
Jaafar hummed and lowered himself to his knees. Slowly. Reverently.
âI know. You had fun?â
âMhm.â
The night started with her at a local restaurant with her friendsâher first outing since returning to US soil following their wedding and honeymoonâbalancing a forkful of vodka rigatoni in one hand and a glass of pinot gris in the other. But somewhere between encouragement from her homegirls and an Iâll get you from wherever text from her husband, Amara landed in a booth at a hole-in-the-wall bar, sipping lemon drops like water.
And as promised, when the room began to tick like a panoramic production, and her speech slowed like molasses, he was outside; legs crossed over the other as he waited for her entrance.
He slid her shoe offârevealing a fresh red pedicure and tender flesh. She sighed softly. Then came the other. Removed with a tenderness that seemed instinctual rather than studied.
âYou know,â Amara murmured, gliding her fingers through Jaafarâs dark curls. His hands stilled around her foot. âYou look good like this. Pretty.â
Her nails scratched lightly at his scalp before wrapping themselves in the freshly washed tendrils. She tugged softly. He groaned lowly.
"Like what?â He ground out, thumbs pressing against the sole of her foot.
âOn your knees for me.â
He looked at her then. Eyes blown wide like a man who mistook devotion for breath itself. His tongue found the underside of his tooth, circling once, as his gaze fell to the newly installed carpet.
Jaafar exhaled.
âBehave.â
Amara smiled. Slowly and wickedly.
Her fingers found the hem of her dress, and she pulled it over her head, revealing her favorite leopard print set that she knew would send him in a tizzy any other day. But he didnât step closer. Just raised an eyebrow and raised the blue satin between pinched fingers.
She huffed and raised her arms, allowing him to unclip her bra and slide the nightgown over her body. âThanks, baby.â She stood on unsteady legs and moved ahead of him to the bathroom, mumbling about makeup remover and toothpaste.
He stayed close. Far enough to give her space but lingered close enough for her to wrap his arms around her waist as she brushed her teeth slowly.
âLove you,â she mumbled around the toothbrush.
