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Synopsis: To the world, he was the King of Pop, but to her, he was simply Michael. After almost a year of mourning her late husband in the shadows, retired Queen of Pop Regina Venus is ready to unveil the truth and introduce the world to the Michael Jackson that they never knew. Unafraid to reveal the good, the bad, and the ugly, Regina spills everything in an interview where she details the intimate and chaotic life that her and Michael shared for 33 years before his untimely demise.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!OC
Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Romance, Drama, Like Tons of Drama, Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Character Death, Angst and Romance, Porn With Plot, True Love, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Starts as Fluff but Turns to Angst, Fame, Moderate to Heavy Angst, I Cannot Stress Enough How Much Angst is in This Fic, But it's Mostly Towards the Middle and End, Tragic Romance, Bittersweet Ending
Word Count: 3,910
Taglist (DM or comment to be added): @a-dal7490 @scarletwitchwhore @kneelarmhstrung @oreo2sblog @skiicoreee @tojiswifeforlife @wildpandorasky
A/N: Okay I didn't get anywhere CLOSE to finishing chapter 12 cuz I've been distracted by the world cup all week but I didn't want you guys to have to wait any longer than a week for an update so I'm uploading this chapter despite the fact that chapter 12 is only like 1/3 of the way written lol. If I'm being honest however, chapter 12 is likely gonna need to be broken up into 2 parts cuz it's definitely gonna take me longer than a week to write the whole thing.
AO3 Link // Previous Chapters
April 2010
Regina glanced at the Peter Pan clock figurine that her and Michael had thrifted from Salvation Army in the early days of their relationship sitting on the console table to check the time.
8:29am
The corners of Regina's lips involuntarily curled themselves into a grin. Her own version of angel numbers. Whenever she saw the numbers that comprised Michael's birthday, whether on a clock or a receipt or a license plate, she felt that it gave her a sign that he was watching over her and keeping her safe. Granted, she followed this practice long before he passed, having viewed any discoveries of the number back then as Michael thinking of her, though she couldn't help but notice that the number appeared much more often now than it did when he was alive.
"Now, when you and Michael started dating and your relationship went public," the interviewer began, "it shook the whole country. I mean, the concept of an 'it' couple wasn't anything new, the public had already witnessed several through the likes of Lucy and Desi, Sonny and Cher, and John and Yoko to name a few, but with you and Michael, it felt like you both had something different from all those other couples. Like there was a level of compatibility between you two that no other celebrity couple could successfully replicate, even when you weren't dating, and the legacy of your relationship has proven to stand the test of time. In fact, in a survey done in 2007 in which people all over the country were asked what celebrity couple they think of when they hear the term 'it couple', 74% said Michael Jackson and Regina Venus."
Regina folded her lips into a down-turned smile, subtly nodding her head as if to say "not bad."
"Factoring in everything that made your relationship with Michael seem so exemplary, at least from an outside perspective, what would you say was the most crucial factor in your compatibility as romantic partners?"
In a series of events Regina didn't think would be possible during this interview, she was actually impressed with the question being asked. So impressed that she almost forgot to answer it on account of accidentally distracting herself trying to recall the last time she was asked a question that was actually unique and compelling to answer.
"Do you need me to repeat the question?" the interviewer asked after waiting several seconds for a response.
"No, no, no I heard you just fine, it's just," Regina chuckled, "you caught me off guard there. I'm used to answering questions that I've already answered a thousand times before so I actually have to think about this one."
Regina ruminated for a bit, rubbing her wedding ring as if it was a magic lamp, almost hoping that Michael would float out of it and grant her the answer. Finally, it came to her.
"I would say the most crucial factor in our compatibility as romantic partners was our friendship. I know that sounds contradictory but it's true. I firmly believe that in order for a romantic relationship to work, the two parties involved have to click as friends first. I mean, when you really think about it, a relationship is pretty much the exact same thing as a friendship, just with more kissing and calling each other 'babe,' so if you're not compatible as friends, then what makes you think you're gonna be compatible as romantic partners? Michael and I were inseparable as friends, and if I'm being honest, when we started dating, it hardly felt any different. Almost nothing changed between us. We still had that underlying respect for each other, same interests, same support during tough moments. Our relationship was really just an opportunity for Michael and I to grow closer to each other than ever before."
October 1979
The Jacksons Destiny World tour was in full throttle. After an eventful series of concerts across Western Europe at the beginning of the year, they entered the North American leg of the tour in April where Regina boldly stepped in to take the role as their opening act after their original opening act quit on them out of nowhere. A gallant gesture that her 1976 self would've never done, she was glad that that version of her was slowly dying out and a new, more outgoing version of Regina was blossoming in its place, because getting to travel across America and perform her songs in sold-out arenas and coliseums, even if it was just to open for her boyfriend and his brothers, was by far the most gratifying experience of her career and her life.
Hot off the heels of Broken Record selling a million and a half copies thus far and the staggering success of Michael's album, Off The Wall, which had been released a couple months ago on top of his hit single from the album "Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough" capturing the #1 spot on the Billboard 100, it was irrefutable to say that Michael and Regina were at the top of their game with no signs of coming down any time soon. When they weren't on stage performing, they were writing songs for future albums on scrap paper. When they weren't writing songs for future albums on scrap paper, they were doing photo shoots. When they weren't doing photo shoots, they were giving radio interviews together. And when they weren't giving radio interviews together, they were on stage performing. And endless cycle of hustling stardom that Michael and Regina didn't seem to mind reliving day by day as long as they were doing it together.
Now, after finishing a phenomenal show in Buffalo, Michael and Regina sat across from each other on the tour bus on their way to Massachusetts for their Springfield show. The brothers were playing Uno with Bill while Michael sat quietly in front of a mess of scattered papers, looking like he was trying to mimic The Thinker sculpture as he repeated the action of writing down lyrics and immediately crossing them out with pursed lips. Regina sat there detached from reality, picking at her fingernails and staring out the window, seeing nothing but grass fields and billboards dimly illuminated by the moon. She was revving up to ask Michael something that she had wanted to ask since she saw that they'd be performing in Massachusetts on the itinerary for the tour.
"Um, Michael?"
"Hm?" He looked up at her while still continuing to write.
"Do you think after the show in Springfield we'd be able to take a quick trip to Boston? Just for the day? There's some place I wanna visit."
"Of course, baby," he answered with a soft smile. "Where?"
The echo of boisterous church bells rung vehemently in Michael and Regina's ears as their feet carried them along a stone walkway dividing two vast lawns that stretched for miles. Carcasses of orange and yellow leaves trickled down from the trees hovering over them and onto the ground below, succumbing to the inevitable ravages of autumn in New England. In Regina's left hand held Michael's tender grasp as her right hand held a bouquet of roses, daisies, and orchids complimented by strings of baby's breath and Queen Anne's lace. The city of Boston was just as brash and rowdy as Regina remembered, but the sector that her and Michael were currently in was quiet and free from strife, though that was to be expected in a place like this.
Regina led the way, her feet eventually straying from the set path over to the straw-like grass and maneuvering in between chipped and contorted headstones until her and Michael had finally stumbled upon the grave that she had come to see.
Barry Clive Dumont
Apr. 19, 1926
Dec. 26, 1975
Beloved son, brother, husband, and father
Regina exhaled a breath that carried away into the gust of wind that flew past her as she examined the meticulous engravings on her father's headstone. She hunched down in front of it, Michael following suit, and delicately placed the bouquet right at the base before kissing her fingers and touching them to the ice cold marble.
"Oh, daddy," she whispered somberly, "almost 4 years and it's still so hard to believe you're gone."
Michael wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in as they both sat on their knees. He wiped a stray tear away from her cheek before she rested her head gently on top of his shoulder, feeling the gelled curls of his hair resting on the side of her face as he lay his head on top of hers.
"I know I never got the chance to meet him but from all the stories you've told me of him, he sounds like he was an amazing guy," Michael spoke, trying his best to soothe Regina.
"Oh, he was a wonderful man," she responded without second thought, "and an even better father. I remember every Sunday him and I used to watch The Ed Sullivan Show together before I went to bed. Every single Sunday. We never missed an episode. Oh, I used to be so excited to see what type of act would be performing that night. Most of my favorite musicians today, I fell in love with when I saw them on the show for the first time. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, Tina Turner, Janis Joplin, Ray Charles, Dionne Warwick," Regina reached her hand up and tickled Michael's chin, "and you."
Michael chuckled, visibly flattered. Regina continued. "God, I remember watching that episode with you and your brothers like it was yesterday. You were the cutest boy I had ever seen in my life, I couldn't take my eyes off of you. I sat so close to the TV, I gave myself a headache and my vision was blurry until morning. My father teased me for weeks on end after we watched that episode. Any time he saw you on television from that point on, he'd call me over by saying 'Gigi! Your boyfriend's on TV!'"
Michael's shoulders hunched forward as he slapped his hand in front of his mouth, trying to contain the waterfall of laughs begging to come out. The laughs that escaped from Regina's own mouth implicitly gave Michael the permission he was looking for to laugh along with her.
"Yeah, teasing me was his favorite thing to do. But I remember 11 days after that episode aired, I woke up on Christmas morning and the first gift I opened was a Jackson 5 record. Good Lord, the way I was acting when I opened that, you would've thought I won a lifetime supply of tickets to Disneyland. I didn't even open my other gifts, I made a beeline straight for my father's record player. I spent the whole entire rest of the day teaching him the choreography to 'Stand!', and every single year after that, without fail, he would gift me the newest Jackson 5 record. All the way up until his very last Christmas." Regina's voice broke off into a pained whisper at the end of her sentence. Michael pulled her in tighter, caressing her back and planting soft kisses on her forehead as she wept quietly into his shoulder.
Michael stayed silent for a little while, deeming it best for Regina to let out all of her feelings that had been sitting in the attic of her mind since she moved away from home. When her sobs weakened and her shoulders stopped bouncing, Michael nuzzled his lips to her ear. "I think your father manifested us together."
Regina chuckled, rapidly finding the strength to lift her head up and wipe her tears. "I think he did."
They gazed at each other lovingly before Michael planted a kiss right where a runaway tear began to roll down her cheek. When he pulled back, Regina thought to herself for the hundred millionth time since they started dating how lucky she was to have him as a boyfriend.
"Gigi?" a middle-aged woman's voice suddenly called from behind them. Startled, they both glanced back to see who was summoning her, and Regina immediately shot herself up from the ground when she identified the woman.
"Aunt Marla?" she said in amazement.
"Oh, honey bun, it's actually you." Marla gently placed the extravagant bouquet she had in her hands on the grass and swooped Regina into her arms, lifting her off of the ground for a couple seconds as she clung onto her like she hadn't seen her in ages.
"Oh, Gigi, it's so wonderful to see you again! The last time we were together was before you left for Los Angeles," she pulled away and eyed Regina up and down. "Oh my God, you almost look like a completely different person, your hair, your clothes, oh, you're so skinny, the food in California isn't as good as it is in New England, isn't it? Poor thing, you probably haven't had a good lobster roll or stuffed quahog since you leftâ" Marla's words of fretful concern faltered when her eyes landed on Michael standing there awkwardly. "And is this your boyfriend, Michael Jackson himself, the one you've told me all about on the phone? Boy, come here!"
Marla snatched Michael like he was the last product on a store shelf, squeezing him tight and impressively lifting him off of his feet for even longer than she did with Regina considering she was short enough for her head to be in line with his chest. Michael's eyes bugged out of his head as he looked over at Regina for help while visibly struggling to breathe, but all Regina could do was snicker into her hand. Finally, Marla dropped him.
"Michael, this is my aunt Marla, the one I told you about whose house in Newport I used to spend my summers as a kid."
"It's very nice to meet you," Michael said between breathless huffs as he rubbed his bruised ribs.
"It's even nicer to meet you," responded Marla before stamping a wet kiss onto his cheek. "My nephew-in-law is even more handsome in real life than he is on TV."
"Auntie, he's not your nephew-in-law until we get married."
"Which I hope will be happening soon because I have been dreaming of the day that I get to plan your wedding since your parents told me they were having a girl." Marla pulled a business card out of her bosom and handed it to Michael.
"She owns a wedding planning business," Regina clarified for him. "But auntie, I'm so glad I finally get to see you again. I performed in Springfield yesterday with Michael and his brothers but I asked him if we could take a quick day trip to Boston today to visit daddy's grave."
"And that is exactly why you're my favorite niece. You're so thoughtful, so selfless, so caring for your father even in death. Unlike the tramp who gave birth to you."
"Auntie," Regina said sternly.
Marla raised her hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you've known for years now that I never once liked her. I have my reasons."
Regina crossed her arms. "I know my mom isn't⌠the easiest person to deal with, but she's still my mother and she's your sister-in-law."
"My sister-in-law who tried to block me from getting my fair share of the inheritance that my own baby brother left for all of us."
Regina failed in finding a good response to that.
"Sweetie," Marla grabbed her niece by the shoulders and looked up at her, speaking in soft sincerity, "I have known Gerry for the better part of 27 years now. And for 27 years I've been wondering what the hell Barry could've possibly seen in that woman. Almost everything she does is done with malicious intent, she doesn't care about anyone but herself. Now, I applaud you for being the adult that your mother refuses to be and acknowledging that she's family and trying to find some good in her, but one day you'll learn that blood isn't all that much thicker than water when it's diluted with conceit and hatred. And when you do, you'll be set free."
That last line in Marla's brief monologue lingered in the back of Regina's mind long after their encounter at the cemetery like the vinegary sting of an intense hot sauce that not even milk can seem to cool down. It lingered as Regina and Michael stepped back onto the tour bus to make the 15 hour drive to Chicago. It lingered on stage as Regina performed. It lingered backstage while she watched the show once her opening set was over. It lingered back at the hotel as her and Michael made love in their room and cuddled while watching TV afterward, still too revved up from the adrenaline rush that the show gave them to fall asleep.
Regina lay skin-to-skin on top of Michael, tracing hearts on his chest. Michael's right arm was wrapped around her to caress her back as his left hand fiddled with the business card that Marla had given him the other day.
"Michael, you've been eyeballing that card nonstop since my aunt gave it to you. If you're getting any ideas, just know that I'd prefer a gold engagement ring over a silver one."
"About our future together. Our future wedding, future children, future house. You don't think about it from time to time?"
"Psh, are you kidding? I've been making vision boards of our future together since before you even knew I existed."
Michael laughed even harder this time, forcing Regina to lift herself off of his chest and lay on her side next to him. She stroked his lean bicep.
"So what do you have in mind for our future wedding then?" Michael asked.
"I want it to be a winter wedding, preferably sometime around Christmas, and I want it to be in Newport where my aunt lives. She's terrified of flying so she'd never be able to come down to LA. I want the flowers to be all hydrangeas and wisterias and white lilies, and I want a multi-tiered cake where each tier is a different flavor so that everyone gets a flavor they like. I want a dress with a train that reaches all the way down the aisle when I'm standing at the altar, and a veil that has my initials and yours stitched onto it with our wedding date right below. I want Janet to be my maid of honor, and I want our first dance song to be 'I'll Be There.'"
Michael gazed at Regina with a quiet reverence as she listed off all the components to her dream future wedding. It was obvious that she had put a lot of thought into this, and Michael, being the charismatic gift-giver that he was, couldn't wait for the day when he'd get to fulfill all of her requests and give her the wedding she deserved. "I'd like that," he spoke softly, "I'd really like that. What about kids?"
"Yeah, I'd like to have kids."
"How many?"
Regina shrugged. "Doesn't matter to me as long as we have at least one girl. I've wanted a baby girl for as long as I can remember. How many do you want?"
"13."
Regina's eyes nearly popped out of her skull. "13!? You want me to give birth to 13 kids?"
Michael's chest puffed out and his head fell back in amusement. "No, silly! They don't all have to be biological. I'd love to adopt a few kids here and there. There's so many innocent kids around the world without homes, I think it'd be wonderful to have a house full of culturally diverse children. We could have a kid from China, one from France, another from Brazil, Poland, Australia, Egypt, Mexico, the possibilities are endless. We could learn their languages, celebrate their holidays, dress in their traditional clothes, I mean, doesn't that sound like the most amazing family you can think of?"
Regina, who had taken the most mitigating sigh of relief when Michael clarified that he wanted a mixture of biological and adopted children, was now the one gazing at him with quiet reverence. "It does," she responded, envisioning her and Michael posing for a family portrait with 13 children and being pleasantly surprised at how nice that image looked in her head. "We'd have to have a real big house to accommodate 13 kids though."
"I already thought about that. I wanna buy a ranch."
"A ranch?"
"Yeah, a ranch. A nice big one as far as the eye can see, and I wanna build my own amusement park inside of it. I have it all mapped out, it would be packed with rides, games, a movie theater, a train station, a petting zoo, everything that kids love. Our own personal Disneyland. And it wouldn't just be for our kids, we could host children from all around the world who wanna come and play. I wanna give them all the joy and happiness that I missed out on in my childhood. I'd call it Neverland Ranch."
Regina chuckled, not in a mocking way, far from that, but rather in sheer amazement at the honorable absurdity of everything Michael wanted to accomplish in his life. Not to mention the lengths in which his plans for the future went to accommodate those around him, even children who weren't born yet, in ways that went above and beyond what the average person would think of. His selflessness was the trait that Regina admired the most about him. After all, had it not been for his selflessness, she wouldn't have had a sold-out arena chanting her name just a few hours ago and one of the world's most sought after man laying next to her in bed in his birthday suit.
"You're real ambitious, applehead."
"I have to be in order to achieve my goals. Nothing in this life comes for free, especially for a black man. I gotta work harder than anyone has ever worked before to get what I want, and I'm not stopping even when I get to the top. I wanna be the greatest entertainer of all time. I want my name to be remembered for centuries afterward. I wanna end world hunger. I wanna build hospitals for the impoverished. I wanna donate as much money to the less fortunate as humanly possible. I wanna be a safe haven for children everywhere. And on top of all that, I wanna make you the happiest woman alive and make sure you never live a day in sorrow."
Regina smiled demurely, finding her way back to laying on top of Michael's chest, hugging his waist tight and planting a kiss where his heart was. "You already accomplished that last goal a long time ago, love."
Pulling the sheets up over them, they turned off the TV, kissed each other goodnight, and drifted off into a dreamless slumber, for the dreams that inhibited their minds every night during their vital periods of daily rest could never compare to the dreams that they had already attained and the dreams that they still had yet to achieve, however long it may take and however much blood, sweat, and tears needed to be shed to do so.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Synopsis: To the world, he was the King of Pop, but to her, he was simply Michael. After almost a year of mourning her late husband in the shadows, retired Queen of Pop Regina Venus is ready to unveil the truth and introduce the world to the Michael Jackson that they never knew. Unafraid to reveal the good, the bad, and the ugly, Regina spills everything in an interview where she details the intimate and chaotic life that her and Michael shared for 33 years before his untimely demise.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!OC
Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Romance, Drama, Like Tons of Drama, Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Character Death, Angst and Romance, Porn With Plot, True Love, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Starts as Fluff but Turns to Angst, Fame, Moderate to Heavy Angst, I Cannot Stress Enough How Much Angst is in This Fic, But it's Mostly Towards the Middle and End, Tragic Romance, Bittersweet Ending
Word Count: 3,691
Taglist (DM or comment to be added): @a-dal7490 @scarletwitchwhore @kneelarmhstrung @oreo2sblog @skiicoreee @tojiswifeforlife @wildpandorasky
A/N: Woohoo we've made it to 10 chapters so far! đĽłđ Fair warning, I do wanna preface that this chapter will contain smut, if you're someone who doesn't like to read smut or doesn't really care for it, the first half of the chapter doesn't involve any smut whatsoever so that can still be read (though it is still pretty suggestive). I'm not planning on making smut chapters super common in this fic cuz as much as I love smut, it's pretty laborious to write so there will be maybe 3-5 smut chapters total in the entire fic (including this one).
ALSO HUGE SHOUTOUT TO MY POOKIE BEAR @boredpretty for giving me the idea to use the song "Inside My Love" by Minnie Riperton in the fic which you guys will see in use when you read this chapter. I hadn't heard the song before when she recommended it but once I listened to it, I fell in love and it gave me just the inspiration I needed to figure out what to write for this chapter so y'all can thank her for the smut lol. You guys should check out her MJ fanfics on here too, she's a fantastic writer :)
AO3 Link // Previous Chapters
November 1978
1978 was just one month away from coming to a close and after everything that had occurred, it was more than safe to say that the year had given Michael and Regina nothing but the absolute best of what it had in store for them.
Michael and his brothers had spent the bulk of the summer recording their third album with Epic titled Destiny, and it was expected to be their biggest album yet. Michael had written the vast majority of the songs on it and the one single that had been released so far, "Blame It on the Boogie", was already a smash hit. The summer was also a good time for Regina as she had accomplished what she initially thought of as impossible when the title track from her album that she had done with Quincy Jones back in New York peaked at #1 on the Billboard 100 in late July, staying there for 3 weeks and being deemed by multiple music critics as "the song of the summer."
But their musical accomplishments paled in comparison to the accomplishments achieved within their relationship. Now that they no longer had to hide their true feelings for each other, they were infinitely more happy, looking at life from a whole new, rose-colored perspective.
Their only dilemma was keeping it a secret from everyone. It wasn't the case that there was a specific reason as to why they needed to keep the relationship a secret, they just simply didn't feel like dealing with all the fuss that they knew would ensue if word got out that two of the biggest names in music right now were boyfriend and girlfriend. To prevent this, they even kept the relationship a secret from their own families, which hurt Michael to do knowing how close he was to all of his siblings, but it was to protect the integrity of the relationship until they were ready to come out. Though that didn't mean that they were absolutely perfect at being discreet.
Janet found out about the relationship when she barged in on them kissing on top of Michael's bed back in April, to which Michael told her that if opening doors without knocking was an Olympic sport, she'd be a gold medalist before forcing her to promise that she wouldn't tell anyone and kicking her out.
And her promise was kept because the relationship had successfully remained under wraps from everyone, including the family, until last month at the LA premiere of The Wiz when the newest "It" couple that would soon be plastered all over the front covers of Tiger Beat and Jet debuted themselves on the red carpet holding hands and sharing a kiss that made the fans behind the barricades scream and the paparazzi feel like they found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. It was certainly a surprise to Geraldine and Joseph who were snapped by photographers glaring maliciously at their children from behind, completely taken aback and almost offended by this new promotion in their bond that they were left entirely blindsided to until now.
Now, on the eve of Thanksgiving, a couple weeks after the release of Broken Record which had impressively snatched the #20 spot on the Billboard 200 right from the get-go, Regina was back in London performing a sold-out show at the Hammersmith Odeon as part of a promotional mini-tour across the British Isles where her fan base had originated. This would be the first ever series of official concerts Regina would perform, and although saying that she was nervous was an understatement, Michael promised her that everything would be alright because he would be by her side just like always. And just like always, his promise was fulfilled as his schedule allowed him to accompany Regina along the way, watching the shows from the wings and acting as her anxiety suppressant.
The applause of the crowd roared in Regina's ears as she finished up the final song on her set-list, the adrenaline from such a successful show still rushing through her veins and pumping her heart with energy. Michael watched from the side with a radiant smile on his face, clapping along with everyone and cheering until his lungs couldn't push out anymore breath.
"Thank you, thank you," she spoke into the microphone, cueing the audience to dim their applause. "Now, you all have been such a wonderful audience that I don't really wanna say goodbye just yet, and I'm certain you guys don't either."
The audience screamed and cheered in agreement, acquiring a sincere smile from Regina.
"So here's what I'll do," she announced, her voice booming. "I'll sing one more song as a special little treat to wrap up the night. The only problem is, I've run out of songs in my set-list. So this next song I'm gonna sing is one that's not by me but rather one of my favorite artists. And it's a song that I actually wanna dedicate to a very, very special man in my life," she added, throwing a secretive wink in Michael's direction. "I don't have to say his name, you already know who he is."
The audience cheered once more in gratitude as Regina motioned to the band to start the song. The slow, sensual opening riffs of "Inside My Love" by Minnie Riperton began to play as the lights dimmed, setting the mood just right for the closing number.
"Yeah⌠Yeah, yeah, yeah, huh, huh, hmmmm~
Two people just meeting,
Barely touching each other,
Two spirits greeting,
Trying to carry it further"
Regina sauntered over in Michael's direction, staring him down with ferocious lust in her eyes, hardly trying to hide his presence in the theater to the audience as her fingertips caressed herself over her low-cut blue satin dress.
"You are one and I am another,
We should be one inside each other,
You can see inside me, will you come inside me?
Do you wanna ride inside my love?
You can see inside me, will you come inside me?
Do you wanna ride inside my love~"
Regina replaced Riperton's iconic whistle note with a drawn out bellow that cascaded into the next verse, warranting more impressed hoots and hollers from the crowd. Michael could do nothing but stand there in awe, flustered and jittery as he tugged at his collar, suddenly sweltering while he continued to watch Regina's suggestive performance, unable to look away. There was no doubt in his mind that Regina hadn't picked this song for no reason, especially with a chorus so poetically vulgar. It was making Michael feel something that he wasn't sure even a cold shower could fix.
"Two strangers, not strangers,
Only lacking the knowing,
So willing, feeling,
Infinite growing"
Regina was no longer singing to the audience but instead to Michael and Michael only now, her attention dead set on him as sprinkles of people in the front rows hunched over to try and see who or what all her attention had possibly averted to. Michael could feel himself being put under some sort of love spell as she sang the chorus once more, her glossy pink lips looking so enticing hovering over the microphone.
"While we're here, the whole world is turning,
We should be one, fulfilling our yearning"
"You can see inside me, will you come inside me?
Do you wanna ride inside my love?
You can see inside me, will you come inside me?
Do you wanna ride inside my love?"
The instrumental break soon flowed in, giving Regina's vocals a rest for a bit, but her body wasn't the slightest bit tired. She danced and twirled all around the stage, closing her eyes and pretending like she was in her room with no one watching, the cool tinted brilliance of the spotlight bouncing off of her and catching the way her dress accentuated every curve that sculpted her body. Michael just barely caught the string of drool that escaped from his mouth as he stared at her dancing like she was attracting a mate.
"You can come inside me,
Will you come inside me?
You can come inside me,
Will you come inside me?
Inside my love~"
Regina ended the song with a bang, holding the last note for an impressive 20 seconds as the instrumentals faltered out, allowing her sweet dulcet voice to be the absolute last thing her fans heard before rewarding her with an amalgamation of deafening applause, whistles, and dry-throated screams.
She took a bow, almost losing her balance in the act and laughing it off, and it wasn't until that moment that she realized from the warmth on her cheeks and the tingling in her abdomen just how aroused performing the song had made her. She hid her titillation behind a poker faced smile as she said goodbye to such a lovely audience.
"Goodnight London, I love you as always!" She brought her fingers to her lips and blew them a kiss before exiting stage right, the opposite side of where Michael was. As soon as her flowy blue dress disappeared from his sight, he made a run for her.
In an unprecedented race to her dressing room, Regina was the winner as she was already there pouring herself a drink when Michael bolted in, trying his hardest to mitigate his heaving breaths.
"Michael!" she rushed over to him, placing a full glass of champagne in his hand and gracing his burning cheek with a kiss that left a pink lipstick print. "How was I? Not bad for the first show in the tour, huh?" Regina clinked her glass with Michael's and drank, pretending like she hadn't noticed the humorously timid look on his face.
"Oh, you were perfect, baby, just perfect. Your vocals were phenomenal, everyone loved you."
"Yeah? What did you think of the last song?"
Michael cleared his throat stiffly, looking everywhere except at Regina as he chugged his champagne. "Y-yeah, it's a good song. Real good song, one of my favorites. And t-the dedication was real nice of you."
"It was more so a request rather than a dedication," Regina responded, sitting down at the vanity and fluffing her hair in the mirror.
"What do you mean?"
Regina paused what she was doing and swiveled her chair to look up at her boyfriend. "Michael, tell me, how long have we been dating?"
"11 months."
"11 months. Almost a full year already." Regina tilted her head upward and rubbed her chin the way cartoon characters do to indicate that they're thinking. "Now tell me, in the 11 months that we've been dating, how many times have we had sex?"
Michael nearly choked on the swig of champagne he took while Regina was speaking. It suddenly got very hot inside the dressing room.
"Well?" said Regina, standing up and walking towards Michael. Simultaneously, he placed his glass down on the coffee table and trudged backwards until his knees hit the black leather sofa pushed up against the wall, forcing him to sit. Regina hovered over him, blocking any possible escape route he could take. Though with a view like this, he wasn't sure if he wanted to escape at all.
He looked up at his muse with puppy dog eyes. "Umm, zero?"
"That's right. Now, I don't know about you, but in my opinion, 11 months is a really long time to date someone without going all the way. I mean, yeah the kissing and holding hands and 'I love you's' are nice and all but," Regina tucked her fingers underneath Michael's chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to look at her when she noticed his eyes dart to the floor, "aren't you just aching for something more intimate?"
The vast silence in the room allowed the gulp that traveled down Michael's throat to be audible as he really started sweating now. "Uh, umm, well I justâI meanâ"
"Look, I'm gonna be honest with you, Michael, I'm tired of waiting, andâŚ" Regina's eyes trailed down to the protruding bulge growing in between Michael's legs in real time, "clearly you are too."
Michael's lungs drew shaky breaths as Regina gently pushed him down to lay flat on the sofa, crawling on top of him. A squeak emitted itself from his throat as Regina sat herself comfortably on top of his aching erection. Trying to be discreet, Michael rolled his hips beneath her, desperate for some stimulation to relieve his hellacious arousal.
"Easy, baby, you'll get there soon enough, don't worry," Regina cooed. Michael blushed, embarrassed to have been caught in the act, but the embarrassment didn't last long as he was distracted by Regina removing his sports jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.
For every button that Regina undid, she planted a kiss on his torso, starting at his deliciously smooth pecs and traveling down his stomach until the cool metal of his pants buckle halted her.
She tucked her fingers into the waistband of his pants, dragging them along the bare, hot skin of his hips.
"You want me to take these off?"
Michael nodded prudently, feeling as though he may explode if his pants clung onto him for even a second longer.
"What's the magic word?" Regina teased.
"Please~" he whined, his voice cracking, causing Regina to giggle.
Everything was happening so fast that Michael hardly had any time to register it because as soon as Regina yanked his belt off and threw it across the room, she followed suit with tugging his pants down to his ankles in one swift motion before he took the liberty of kicking them off of his feet like they were on fire.
Regina's breath hitched when her eyes landed on his cock, all 8 inches of it. The specimen sitting in front of her eyes was such a work of art that she had to take a second to admire it. The girthy shaft that curved like a banana towards himself, perfect for stimulating the G-spot. The cherry mahogany tip covered in a fine glaze of pre-cum that was also dribbling down his member, shining under the warm lamplight of the room. The thick veins that looked like lightning strikes bulging out of his skin. The moat of untrimmed curly black pubes surrounding the tower-like structure. Regina could not fathom how she got so lucky.
Without saying a word, she lifted herself off of Michael, much to his dismay, and shifted him so that he was sitting upright on the sofa and she was positioned on her knees directly in line with his cock just oozing its preliminary juices.
Michael's fingers dug into the sofa as he tried his best to prepare himself for what was to come. Regina's nails delicately caressed his thighs, tickling him in certain spots before her hands gravitated towards the main star of the show, wrapping around his firm member, her index finger and thumb just barely within reach of each other.
"You've fantasized about this before, haven't you?" Regina asked him, slowly stroking him from tip to base, the movement of the loose skin making the head of his dick disappear and reappear with each tug.
Michael nodded with his head rolled back and his teeth clenched slightly.
"I know you have," Regina continued, her tone of voice riddled with self-assurance layered under a coating of seduction. "I know you play with yourself when I'm not there. Do you think of me when you jerk off?"
"Y-yes," Michael moaned, his head floating in the clouds as Regina continued to pump him.
"Yeah, I think about you when I touch myself too. What do you envision me doing when you think about me?"
This was a humiliation ritual at this point. Michael sitting stark naked on a sofa while Regina glided her soft hands up and down his throbbing cock, asking him interrogating questions about his masturbation habits. The rules of human nature said that he wasn't supposed to like the embarrassment of all this, but the fire kindling deep in his stomach at this moment in time said otherwise.
Michael stumbled over his words, temporarily forgetting how to speak English before he finally answered her. "IâI imagine you suckâOh God, baby, I imagine you suâsucking me, hmmpph~"
Regina grinned arrogantly. "Well, you won't have to imagine anymore," she said before gliding her tongue all the way from his balls up the bumpy veins of his shaft to envelop her mouth around his juicy tip. Michael winced in surprise at the sudden change in contact, arching his back before relaxing into a long drawn groan when he felt Regina's tongue swirl around the tip, lapping up all of the salty pre-cum that coated it like snow on a mountaintop.
Incrementally, her mouth encompassed him inch by inch, the fleshy walls of her inner cheeks creating a wet, warm vacuum seal around his cock until his tip prodded at her uvula and his pubic hair tickled her nose. Up and down she sucked, her tongue whirling all around his shaft, making sure not to leave any part of it un-licked as if it was a melting popsicle on a hot summer day.
Her right hand pumped his dick as she continued to slurp him, her left one kneading his inner thigh. Michael's breath came out in quick whimpering bursts. His head rested on his shoulder with his eyes squeezed shut, too timid to look at Regina. Meanwhile, her eyes were fixated on him and him only, having not blinked once this entire time as she studied the way his hips bucked to push his cock deeper into her mouth. The way the sweat pooling on his heaving chest beaded down his clenched stomach. The way his hands clawed at his own thighs leaving red cat-like scratch marks. The way his teeth dug into his bottom lip, almost enough to break skin as his breathing increased speed, his moans became louder and more erratic, his hips began to sputter, and his hand crawled to the back of Regina's head, trying to shove her in further.
Pop! Regina extracted her mouth from Michael's cock, now entirely lubed with her spit. He whined in protest.
"Baby, why'd you stop? I was almost there~"
Regina lifted herself up to her feet and hiked her dress up, just enough to tuck her hands into the waistband of her underwear while still maintaining her decency in front of Michael. She pulled down her panties slowly, making sure Michael's eyes didn't veer off as she slipped her legs out of them and dropped them to the floor.
She faced away from Michael and scooted herself back until she sat in between his legs and lifted her hair up, pointing to the zipper resting at her nape.
"Unzip," she demanded and Michael obeyed immediately. He dragged the flimsy zipper all the way down, unsheathing her bare back until gravity took over and made the entire dress fall. Promptly, she stood up and faced Michael again, the dress falling straight to the floor as she did so, exposing her entire body in all of its glory, finally putting an end to the 2 and a half year long mystery as to what Regina looked like naked that clouded his brain constantly.
She walked over to Michael once more and hoisted herself on top of him, her legs cradling his lap and her perky breasts squished up against his sweaty chest while his hands drifted to grasp onto her back. Her hand slithered down to grip the base of his cock, positioning it right in front of her hole, and with next to no resistance from her sopping wet pussy, she steadily dragged herself down on top of him, the intensity of his girth stretching her walls taut.
They both moaned in harmony when their hips finally made contact. They lingered there for a while, basking in the sensation of their bodies connecting as one. The warm, ribbed tunnel of Regina's cunt hugged Michael tight and he filled her up perfectly.
Regina's lips gravitated towards Michael's, feasting hungrily on him as she began to move up and down at a steady pace. A waterfall of whimpers cascaded from his mouth into hers as she rode him, increasing the speed as well as the force in which her thighs slammed onto his with each bounce.
"Oh, Gigi, baby, you feel so good," he mewled in between kisses. "Your pussy feels like Heaven."
The butterflies in the pit of Regina's stomach went haywire in that moment, partially because Michael hardly ever said vulgar words so hearing him compare her "pussy" to Heaven turned her on expeditiously, and partially because his cock had spontaneously reached just the right angle to slam into her g-spot with each stroke.
Regina shuddered, teetering close to the edge as she continued to devour Michael, sucking on his bottom lip and dragging her nails down his back while the sounds of her soaking wet pussy squelching on his dick and their thighs clapping echoed in their ears.
"Oh my God, Michael," she keened, her lips resting lazily on top of Michael's at this point, "itâit's too much. I'm already gonna, hnghhh~"
Her short and sweet bounces soon turned into long-winded grinding, allowing her clit to graze Michael's cock as the fireworks that had been slowly igniting within her stomach exploded, her orgasm bursting out in shockwaves as she wailed Michael's name for all of London to hear.
"Oh, Michael! Oh fuck, Michael! Ohh, it feels so good, baby, fuck~"
The sight of Regina riding out her high burned into Michael's eyes like a film reel and it pushed him just enough over the edge for his own orgasm to unleash out of him too, giving neither one of them a warning as thick webs of cum abruptly shot out of him.
His hands gripped her ass, leaving marks where his nails dug into as his volcanic release splattered onto the walls of Regina's cunt and blended with her juices to create a salty white fusion presented in the form of a glaze coating his dick and dripping down onto his thighs and the sofa.
Regina's sensitive pussy stroked him one final time as the last dribble of cum spurted out of him, her thighs burning from their workout as she plopped herself down and caught her breath, resting her head meekly on Michael's chest.
Michael rested his head over the top of the couch, his eyelids unable to hold themselves up as he rubbed Regina's back. She lifted her head up once she finally regained some breath and gazed at Michael lovingly for a few seconds before grabbing him by the chin and kissing him once more, letting her tongue savor the taste of the briny sweat surrounding his mouth. She swallowed when she finally let go and smiled up at him.
"So? What did you think?"
Michael licked his lips, desperate for a drink of water. "I think we shouldn't have waited 11 months to have sex if that's what it feels like."
Regina laughed so hard she collapsed onto Michael's chest yet again before hitting him with a bantering "I told you so."
Now that Michael knew what sex with the love of his life felt like, he deemed himself the world's biggest imbecile for putting it off for so long. But it was okay. Regina had 11 more shows left in her mini-tour, which meant 11 more renditions of "Inside My Love" to close off the show and 11 more backstage rendezvous' to bring the chorus of the song to life immediately afterward.
A/N: Okay I didn't realize until just before I was about to post that I forgot to write in Michael and Regina using some sort of protection and I rllyyyyy don't feel like going back and adding it in so for the sake of my lazy ahh just pretend like Regina is on the pill and Michael already knew this somehow before they fucked đ
⥠You Love Her Bad â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠What dating Michael jackson would be like - x Black Reader
⥠A Soft Love â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader Alphabet
⥠You Know He's Mine â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Our Little Family â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Short Circuit â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Love Can't Wait â Husband!Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Cracking Chestnuts â Michael Jackson x Black Family!Reader
⥠No Comment â Chapter One â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Speechless â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠All Business â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Straight Face â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Confidence â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠Sexiest Man Alive â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
⥠The Messiest Man Alive â Michael Jackson x Black!Reader Best Friend
⥠Care To Explain? â Michael Jackson x Reader
⥠Bad & Dangerous Era Dad!Michael Headcanons
⥠Mature Vampire Era Michael x Male!Reader Headcanons
⥠Off The Wall Era Michael x Male Best Friends to Lovers Headcanons
⥠Neverland Assistant
⥠Michael ERA Headcanons (1)
⥠Michael ERA Headcanons (2)
⥠Michael ERA Headcanons (3)
⥠Michael Headcanons (Smut)
⥠Crazy Wife Michael x Black Reader
⥠Since You Asked... (x Black Reader)
⥠Sunshine (Modern Michael x Black Reader)
⥠Insta AU
⌠⢠⥠⢠⌠⢠⥠⢠âŚ
⌠ââ Jafaar Jackson ââ âŚ
⥠Date Night With Jafaar Jackson Headcanons
⥠Jaafar Headcanons (Smut)
⥠Moonlight -(Mini series part 1)
⥠Family Ties -(Mini series part 2)
⥠Insta AU
⥠More Coming Soon
⌠⢠⥠⢠⌠⢠⥠⢠âŚ
⌠ââ Jermajesty Jackson ââ âŚ
⥠Jermajesty Jackson Headcanons
⥠Can Y'all Seperate x (Black Reader)
⥠Featuring My Wife x Black Reader
⥠Jermajesty's Girlfriend Insta AU
⥠Texts with Jermajesty
⥠More Coming Soon
⌠⢠⥠⢠⌠⢠⥠⢠âŚ
⌠ââ Randy Jackson Jr. ââ âŚ
⥠Randy Jr. Headcanons
⥠More Coming Soon
⌠⢠⥠⢠⌠⢠⥠⢠âŚ
⌠ââ Janet Jackson ââ âŚ
⥠Coming Soon
⌠⢠⥠⢠âŚâ˘ ⥠⢠âŚ
⌠ââ Marlon Jackson ââ âŚ
⥠Marlon Jackson Headcanons
⥠More Coming Soon
⌠⢠⥠⢠⌠⢠⥠⢠âŚ
⌠ââ Other Jackson Family Content ââ âŚ
⥠Jackson Family Feud
⥠Keeping Up With The Jacksons - Episode 1
⥠More Coming Soon
â§ŕźşâĄŕźťâ Thank You For Reading âŕźşâĄŕźťâ§
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Thank you for reading, supporting, liking, reblogging, commenting on, and sharing my work. Every interaction means more to me than you know, and I appreciate every single one of you âĄ
⧠What I Write
Character x Reader (all genders welcome)
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Suggestive content (18+ nsfw)
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I respect all ships & creatorsâthis is just my personal boundary
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⧠About Me
My name is Moya.
I feel like there isnât enough fanfiction for Black readers and people of color on Tumblr especially Black readers and I want to help change that.
I write for male, female, and gender-neutral readers of all sizes.
⥠Note âĄ
This master list is specifically for my Jackson family content.
If you're looking for content from my other fandoms, my original master list can be found here
I still write for other fandoms from time to time, but this page is currently focused primarily on Jackson family content âĄ
Tag list : @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg @simply-lovley44
Synopsis: To the world, he was the King of Pop, but to her, he was simply Michael. After almost a year of mourning her late husband in the shadows, retired Queen of Pop Regina Venus is ready to unveil the truth and introduce the world to the Michael Jackson that they never knew. Unafraid to reveal the good, the bad, and the ugly, Regina spills everything in an interview where she details the intimate and chaotic life that her and Michael shared for 33 years before his untimely demise.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!OC
Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, Romance, Drama, Like Tons of Drama, Friends to Lovers, Domestic Fluff, Character Death, Angst and Romance, Porn With Plot, True Love, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Starts as Fluff but Turns to Angst, Fame, Moderate to Heavy Angst, I Cannot Stress Enough How Much Angst is in This Fic, But it's Mostly Towards the Middle and End, Tragic Romance, Bittersweet Ending
Word Count: 5,832
Taglist (DM or comment to be added): @a-dal7490 @scarletwitchwhore @kneelarmhstrung @oreo2sblog @skiicoreee @tojiswifeforlife @wildpandorasky
A/N: Okay writing this chapter was a COMPLETE 180 from writing chapter 8. I genuinely had so much fun writing this one, the words were just pouring out of me nonstop, and it was so easy to write that I wrote the whole thing in the span of just two days which is honestly pretty impressive for me. Usually it takes me an average of 5 days to more than a week to write a single chapter of 2-4k words. I'm so excited for you guys to read what happens!!
AO3 Link // Previous Chapters
April 2010
Regina intuitively traced Michael's signature on her thigh, still able to recall how it looked from memory as the interviewer took a sip of his water and wrote down more notes. The two cards that Michael had written for her on the days that she received both of his lavish floral surprises were still in her possession, as was every single letter he ever wrote to her throughout the course of their lives.
She kept them all safe and secure in a box tucked away in the closet buried under a mountain of clothes that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine since June of last year. In her youth, she could fondly recall taking the box out from underneath her bed in the dead of night whenever she coveted Michael's presence when he was away on tour and hovering a flashlight over the crinkled pages to read them in his softly tuned voice.
She would often trace her fingers over his beguiling penmanship, and as a result, she quickly memorized how to write his signature, a skill that she still retained to this day. Though granted, she was starting to get a bit rusty. As much as she incessantly yearned for something, anything to serve as a time capsule to remind her of the good old days, she knew better than to look at the letters following Michael's passing for fear that the scalding hot tears constantly waiting on standby in the back of her skull would fall onto the now yellowed pages and tarnish the cherished memories that made them feel so heavy in her hands.
There were many things she kept of Michael's to remember him by, some things standard like his clothes and his half-empty perfume bottles, other things a bit abnormal like the half-eaten leftovers from the last meal of KFC he ate the day before his passing wrapped in tinfoil and shoved in the back of the freezer to keep preserved, just in case this whole thing was a sick prank and Michael got hungry once he finally decided to come out of hiding. Just in case.
"If you don't mind, I'd like to move on to discussing your second album now, Broken Record," the interviewer stated, fiddling with his pen.
"Yes, what would you like to know about that one?"
"You've mentioned in multiple interviews in the past that the making of that album was a very pivotal time in your life, not just in the way it impacted your music career but your personal life as well. While you have explained in those interviews how it impacted your music career for the better, you've never really elaborated on how exactly the making of the album impacted your personal life."
Regina sat in silence for a brief moment, recollecting the memories from that time period and placing all the puzzle pieces of information into the correct spots to make sure she didn't give an inaccurate account. If there was any story from this interview she didn't want to get even minutely wrong, this was one of them.
She folded her hands in her lap and cleared her throat, ready to recall yet another blissful memory, the most blissful one of them all thus far.
"Recording Broken Record was a very exciting time in my life. Michael was in New York filming The Wiz and Quincy Jones was working on the soundtrack for the film. My mother had met him at a party a few months prior and somehow managed to convince him to produce my next album. Because of that, I had the wonderful opportunity to record it in New York and stay with Michael in the apartment he was renting. Oh, we had so much fun over there. My fondest memories are of us going down to Studio 54 every evening that we had free and partying until the sun came up. By the end of our time in New York together, I felt like a whole new woman," Regina paused, biting back a smile of childlike joy, "and my relationship with Michael had blossomed into something I had thrown pennies into wishing wells for since the day I met him."
September 1977
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking, we have now landed in New York City. The local time is currently 8:43am and the weather is bright and sunny with a moderate temperature of 68°. We want to thank you once again for flying with us and we hope you enjoy your stay in New York."
Regina let out an exasperated sigh, fruitlessly attempting to stretch as much as she could in her seat. Another sleepless flight that would leave her wishing she had brought tape to put on her eyelids to keep them from falling every two seconds.
After she made it past baggage claim, she found Michael's bodyguard, Bill, whom Michael had told Regina would be picking her up, in the terminal for arrivals. From there, they drove to the apartment on the East Side of Manhattan to put Regina's things away before going over to Queens to visit Michael on set.
"Man, I'm so excited to be in New York," Regina told Bill, hanging her head out of the window of the car and marveling at the skyscrapers that looked tall enough to cut through clouds. "London was cool and all, but nothing compares to the Big Apple."
"Yeah, Michael's real excited for you to be here too. That lil joker's been counting down the days until your arrival since the day you called and told him you were coming. Even wrote it down on the calendar in his room and drew little hearts around it and everything."
Regina looked over at Bill when he said that, then back out the window as soon as she felt the faintest prickle of heat tiptoe onto her cheeks. She almost wished he hadn't mentioned that. In the beginning, it was cute and charming finding out all the different clues that proved that Michael wanted something more than platonic with Regina, and it still was to some extent, but it had now gotten to a point where it frustrated her more than anything. How much longer were they going to continue this façade when the obvious had been known for months now? More specifically, since the night that Michael threw the album release party for Red Cherry Perfume at Hayvenhurst. God, if only Regina could find a way to turn back time and lock the door to Michael's room after they went in there with the platter of crab cakes. Who knows how different their relationship with each other would look by now if that had been the case?
They arrived on set and slithered through an endless array of yellow brick roads, kooky props, and extras wearing flashy, dazzling costumes in all colors of the rainbow before they found Michael in his scarecrow get-up sitting in a director's chair with his name plastered on the back of it drinking orange juice from a squeeze bottle.
Regina tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I'm looking for my friend Michael. He looks a lot like you but less bulbous-y and he doesn't have a Reese's peanut butter cup wrapper stuck to his nose."
"Gigi!" Michael exclaimed, getting up from his chair and embracing Regina, the plastic-like material of his pants rustling against her. When he finally pulled back, he dabbed at his face as if it was made of porcelain. "Can't smile too hard, my makeup will crack. But I'm so glad you're here! Oh man, I got so much stuff planned for us to do while we're in New York, it's gonna be a blast. Listen, I know you're not that crazy about parties but tomorrow I wanna take you to Studio 54."
"Studio 54? What's that?"
"It's the hottest nightclub in all of New York. In all of America if you ask me. It's always packed with celebrities and good music and dancing. You gotta check it out."
Regina was apprehensive. She really didn't like being at social functions that were as loud and chaotic and energetic as discoteques, but now that she was famous, going to such functions were a part of her new reality. Besides, as long as Michael was by her side, she knew she'd have a good time.
"Yeah, sure, that sounds good but I don't know if I packed the right clothes for such a high-end nightclub."
"Bill and I can take you shopping once I'm done shooting for the day."
And out shopping they went as the next day came by in a wink and the fiery orange silhouette of the sun peeking through the buildings before burying itself under the concrete horizon gave Michael and Regina their cue to start getting dressed for Studio 54. When Regina was finished getting ready, clothed in a tight-fitting gold shimmer mini dress with a matching necklace and earrings from Tiffany & Co. and a $2,500 gold Cartier watch that Michael had bought for her when she wasn't looking as a needless gift, she added a few conscious spritz' of Chanel to her wrists and the back of her ears before knocking on Michael's bedroom door.
"Michael, you ready?"
He opened the door in the midst of trying to clasp his heavy gold chain bracelet onto his wrist, but when he saw Regina's finished look, the bracelet fell from his hands and plopped onto the floor, leaving a dent in the wood.
His eyes began at Regina's strappy gold high heels, traveling up her smooth legs to her blindingly radiant dress, then up to her gold chain sitting aptly atop her bosom, nicely filling in the dip of the dress's deep cowl neckline, then up to her glossed lips before landing in line with the feathery lashes sitting on top of a pair of glittery eyes staring right back at him with a soft gaze.
"So? Are you ready or not?" Regina repeated amusingly.
"Uh, y-yeah, yeah I am," Michael clumsily cleared his throat, trying to pick his bracelet up off the floor but his fingers wouldn't allow him to.
"Here, let me help you with that," Regina said, crouching down to grab his bracelet. Michael's eyes crossed paths with the contour of her very pronounced cleavage before he sharply looked away. Regina clasped the bracelet onto his slim wrist, her fingers purposely lingering on his hand when she was done.
"Let's go then," she said amorously as she grabbed her clutch and headed for the door. Michael could've sworn that he saw her wink at him, but he could also see faint hearts floating in the air so he wasn't sure what was real and what were the figments of his imagination.
After a short limo ride spent in a comfortable silence, they arrived at Studio 54. As soon as the door of the car opened, staccato bursts of white from the paparazzi cameras flooded their vision. Michael stepped out of the limo first, extending his hand for Regina to take as she gracefully exited seconds after. Their hands stayed interlocked as they smiled for the paparazzi, scooching through the jammed line of regular everyday folk, some determined to make it into the club despite the fact that they didn't have the connections necessary to get in, others just there to gawk at the flock of celebrities going in and out of the club.
As Michael gave his name to the bouncer, Regina gazed up at the nightclub's illuminated sign that showcased nothing but the number 54 against a black backdrop. No use of the word "Studio", no design, no flashy lights that could be seen from blocks away. A nightclub so iconic, they only needed to put its number on the front banner for people to know what it was, and when the bouncer unclipped the velvet rope and Regina was ushered inside, she quickly understood why it was so iconic.
Passing through the architectural maze of the Art Deco inspired lobby with its walls decorated with Roman arch mirrors that touched from floor to ceiling and a massive crystal chandelier that surely cost more than her house, the thumping bass of "I Feel Love" by Donna Summer increasingly pounded in her ears and chest with more and more fervor as she marched up a set of velvet carpeted stairs into another world.
One with multi-colored strobe lights flashing everywhere and giant red light towers planted across the packed dance floor that looked like they'd scorch you if you touched them. One with a balcony overlooking the controlled chaos below with red velvet benches where people were either making out or snorting lines off of each other's bodies. One with a busy bar not too far from all the action whose design made it look like it was floating in gold. One that inhibited all different types of people, from star-studded celebrities to groupies to body builders to drag queens to even half-naked trapeze artists hanging from the ceiling by silk ropes.
Regina didn't even know where to go from here. She had never seen anything like it, and the sheer volume of activity going on all around her overwhelmed her so good.
"Michael! Oh my God, Michael's here!"
Suddenly, two girls who appeared out of seemingly nowhere rushed over to Michael, each one grabbing him by the arm.
"Oh, Michael, we missed you so much last night, why didn't you come?"
"The club was so dead without you yesterday, I would've gone home if David Bowie hadn't walked through the door as soon as I was about to leave."
Regina glared at the girls skeptically, wondering how they knew Michael well enough to feel him up the way they were doing. The one on the left was rather tall with tawny skin, sharp facial features, and sleek black hair that reached her knees. The one on the right was short and pale with freckles painted across her face and big bouncy auburn curls resting gently on her shoulders.
Michael had the faintest look of discomfort on his face, but not enough for Regina's liking. "Ah, sorry ladies, I went out shopping with my friend Regina here. You girls know her music, right?"
They scowled at Regina, discreetly squeezing Michael's arms tighter at the mention of Regina being his friend.
"Nope, never heard of her."
"Sorry, doesn't ring a bell."
Just as they said that, "I'll Bloom (Oh so Nice)" started to play through the speakers, warranting an ambush of people onto the dance floor who weren't already there. The girls looked everywhere except in Regina's direction, innocently clearing their throats.
"Well, this is Gigi's first time at Studio 54 so why don't we show her how to have some fun?" Michael said trying to ease the unbearably humid tension right now.
"Oh yeah, totally," they both said in unison, visibly dismayed that they'd now have to share Michael for the night, though Regina wasn't all that thrilled to be sharing him either.
"I think I'm gonna get a drink from the bar first," Regina announced, aching to get away from the girls whom she swore were actively killing her brain cells by the second.
"Oh, I'll have a cosmo," said the bubbly red-haired one.
"Make that two and a screwdriver for our orange juice loving boy," the Cher look-a-like added, transitioning her hand from Michael's bicep to his bare chest.
Regina bit the inside of her cheek and turned on her heel, making a beeline for the crowded bar.
"Can I get a tequila sunrise and a screwdriver, please?" she asked the bartender who nodded his head and started working on the drinks right away. As she waited, she made the mistake of looking behind her and catching Michael sitting on a padded sofa sandwiched in between the two bimbos who were caressing him. He didn't seem to be enjoying their company all too much though as his hands constantly flew up to gently push theirs away, though that didn't stop them from continuing to be handsy.
Regina averted her attention back to the bartender. "Scratch the tequila sunrise, make it a long island."
December 1977
The snow outside fell in intricate flurries, thick in size but light enough to melt almost instantly when they touched the asphalt below. New York's first snowfall of the season had commenced the week before Christmas, and when Michael noticed it from his window, the first thing he did was go out and buy Regina a white fur coat to keep warm.
Now, Regina was wearing that same coat over her black jumpsuit with a rhinestone studded halter neckline as her and Michael sat in the back of the limo on their way to Studio 54 to celebrate New Years.
Their time in New York was closely arriving to its conclusion as they'd be back in LA by Wednesday, and it was safe to say that they both had a marvelous time. Filming for The Wiz wrapped up sometime around the beginning of December, allowing Michael to enjoy the rest of his stay not having to profusely sweat under pounds of makeup 10 hours a day 6 days a week. Regina had worked tirelessly with Quincy on the production of her second album, often staying up until 5 in the morning to record, and it was expected to be a much bigger hit than her first album. She had even sung a duet on the album with Michael, and Quincy was so impressed with both Michael's vocals and his work ethic that he agreed to produce a solo album that Michael had spoken to Regina about wanting to create for the past few months now.
Whenever they had a day off, their pastime of choice was, of course, hitting Studio 54. Following Regina's first night at the discoteque, the girls who had been attached to Michael at the hip backed off, sometimes even leaving upon their arrival, and he explained to her that they were simply two regulars who, like every other woman on the planet, found him attractive and wanted to befriend him in the shallow hopes that something more intimate would blossom from it, but he assured her that nothing would happen, he just kept hanging around them because he didn't want to be mean.
Regina snorted when Michael explained the reason why they latched onto him like bloodthirsty ticks. How cute that they thought they had a chance with him. She had been hoping for the same thing for almost 2 years now and nothing ever came out of it, and she was best friends with the guy. But tonight would be different. Tonight would be the night that everything finally changed. Because tonight, Regina had a plan to give her what she wanted. What both she and Michael wanted.
Her manicured fingers toyed with the rectangular medallion of Michael's necklace showcasing a capital "M" embezzled with diamonds as they sat in traffic.
"So," she said, drawing out the vowel as if to fill uncomfortable silence, "who are you gonna kiss tonight?"
Michael whipped his head to the side to look at Regina, bug-eyed. "What?"
"It's New Years, Michael. You gotta kiss someone at midnight. It's tradition."
Regina watched his Adams apple bob up and down as he swallowed. "I hadn't really thought about who I was gonna kiss tonight," he lied. "Do you have an idea of who you're gonna kiss?"
Regina shrugged, looking out the window, away from Michael's direction. "Maybe the bartender. He winks at me every time he makes my drink and gives me extra maraschino cherries in my tequila sunrises so I think he's asking for it."
Michael chuckled, more so in a perplexed manner rather than an amused one. "That's a complete stranger, Gigi."
"Oh, so you're telling me I have to kiss someone that I know personally?"
Like a chicken being lured into a cage, Michael hadn't taken notice of the trap he had fallen into until it was too late to get out. Except unlike a chicken, this cage was right where Michael wanted to be.
"Well," Regina continued, trying not to smile too much, "you're the only one that I know personally around here. So I guess that means I have to kiss you at midnight."
Michael rubbed his thigh as he looked out of his window, his lips twitching slightly. "I don't mind that," he mumbled shyly.
Regina smirked. Phase 1 of the plan had been carried out successfully. Now all she had to worry about was ensuring that Phase 2 ran smoothly without any outside forces interfering. Janet wasn't here to barge in on them so at least she didn't have that to worry about.
Her and Michael followed the same routine that they did every other day when they attended Studio 54, surpassing the line, checking in with the bouncer, walking past the lobby that always somehow had a new intricacy for Regina to gawk at, and going up the stairs to enter the realm of pure musical bliss.
The dance floor was so crowded tonight that Michael and Regina could only shuffle in place as the sweet rhythms of their favorite disco hits blessed their ears. People bumped into each other left and right, not even caring as they were all feeling good and ready to take on 1978. Although one bump in particular sent Regina hurling head-on into Michael's chest. When she turned around to see who had shoved her, her face dropped when she saw that it was the red-haired girl dancing with a body builder double her size, winking straight at Michael before bringing her attention back to her dance partner.
Regina spent the rest of the night in a frenzied paranoia, her arm wrapped tightly around Michael's waist at all times and her eyes constantly darting all over the place, making people inclined to believe that she had snorted a line or two in the upstairs lounge. She looked for the black-haired one everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found. Only the red-haired one was here and she was never more than a few steps away at any given moment.
11:57pm
The clock was rapidly approaching 12:00am and everyone was getting ready to count down and say hello to 1978. Regina and Michael had grabbed a couple last minute drinks from the bar and held onto each other tight as the crowd was getting more and more tightknit by the second.
11:58pm
Regina was a frantic mess, trying to spot the red-haired girl just to know where she was but she couldn't find her in the sea of brunettes and blondes standing shoulder to shoulder with each other.
11:59pm
Michael licked his lips and looked down at Regina with a radiant smile, temporarily calming her nerves, but as soon as he looked back up, the knots that were sitting like rocks in the pit of her stomach got pulled even tighter than before. Where the hell did that red-haired girl go?
"Alright everybody, let's get ready to say goodbye to 1977 and give a big, warm, groovy welcome to 1978!" the DJ announced, hyping everyone up as the countdown to midnight officially started.
"10, 9, 8âŚ"
Her and Michael faced each other as they counted down. She was so close.
"7, 6, 5, 4âŚ"
Regina wrapped her free arm around Michael's neck and he wrapped his free arm around her waist, pulling her in. 3 seconds away from finishing what was started at that album release party 8 months ago.
"3, 2, 1. Happy New Year!"
Like ripping off a band-aid, Regina closed her eyes and lurched forward to kiss Michael, but was left confused when her puckered lips landed on the tight coils of his afro instead of his soft lips. When she opened her eyes to see what was wrong, an imaginary stake savagely plunged into her heart as she was met with the sight of the red-haired girl yanking Michael down by the collar and fixing her lips onto his. In an instant, Michael shoved her away, frantically wiping her tacky lipstick off of his mouth and glancing over at Regina with a look on his face that only ever appeared when he was about to get a whooping from Joseph.
Standing there, gutted, Regina's eyes welled up with tears and her lips quivered uncontrollably before she threw her drink at the girl with enough force to shatter the glass against her skin, causing an emulsion of tequila, orange juice, and grenadine to seep into and burn the dozens of cuts and gashes all over her face and upper body. And when everyone, including Michael, was distracted by the girl screaming and writhing in pain, Regina disappeared from everyone's sight, only the shadow of her body turning a sharp corner just barely visible enough for him to realize it was Regina and run after her.
Regina sprinted up the stairs and past the lobby, slamming into people who were celebrating with champagne and streamers and party blowers before shoving the front door open so hard that she nearly toppled over when she made it outside.
The scene that flooded her vision would've looked cinematic to anyone who was having a good time tonight, but to Regina, it looked apocalyptic.
Swarms on top of swarms of party-going New Yorkers wreaked havoc on the streets as they celebrated the coming of a new year. There were so many bodies reaching endpoints that Regina couldn't possibly see with her naked eye that she couldn't even see one sliver of the sidewalks or the roads. Just people and buildings. She couldn't even see the night sky through all the confetti that was being thrown down by all the people on the top floors of the buildings that looked as though they were closing in on her.
What would've been a 30 minute walk had it not been midnight on New Years Day in the city that celebrated the holiday like it invented it converted to an hour and a half jog that had Regina's ears ringing, her feet throbbing, and her heart rate spiking once she finally made it back to the isolated tranquility of Michael's apartment after shoveling through crowds of cheering drunkards packed together as tightly as sardines in a tin for miles. And it didn't help that she was constantly being stopped for autographs along the way when she looked like an absolute mess with her hair all frizzy and her smoky eye dripping down her cheeks.
She slammed the door shut behind her, sliding the lock in place, and slid her back against the wall until she was sitting on the cold, dusty floor. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She didn't thrash about in anger. She just sat there, tired and numb.
She hadn't even noticed that she had fallen asleep when she awoke God knows how long later to the sound of frantic pounding on the door.
"Gigi, it's Michael, let me in!"
Regina stood up begrudgingly, almost losing her balance as her vision went foggy for a few seconds and lazily undid the lock on the door.
Michael burst the door open like a cop raiding the place but immediately softened up when he saw Regina, disheveled and all.
"Oh, Gigi, you're safe. Oh, thank God you're safe, I was trying to chase after you but I kept losing you in the crowd andâand everyone kept pulling me left and right for an autograph or a picture, oh, it took me forever to finally get to you, I'm sorryâ"
"I'm in love you, Michael," Regina interrupted.
Michael swallowed the rest of what he was about to say and his body froze over. "W-what?"
"Did I stutter?" Regina said, almost agitated as she sauntered closer to him. "I said I'm in love with you, Michael. I've been in love with you since March 27th, 1976; the day we met. There has never been one second let alone one day since our first encounter where I haven't wanted you, body and soul, all to myself. You are the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. Everything I do, I do for you. Before I met you, the only reason my heart was beating was to keep my lousy self alive but now it has a purpose. Its purpose is to beat for you, Michael."
Regina shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. "I mean, how much longer are we gonna keep ignoring the elephant in the room? I'm not stupid, you know. I see the way you look at me with a gleam in your eyes that you don't have when you look at anyone else. The way you struggle to let go when you hug me. The way you get all flustered when I do something that's slightly too risquĂŠ for people who are 'just friends.' Aren't you tired of that label? Don't you want us to be what we were meant to be?"
"Yeah, I am tired of that label," Michael said with his chest without skipping a beat.
Regina was the one who was now frozen over, shocked by the courage of Michael's admittance.
Neither one of them said anything. Michael steadily, almost hesitantly, strolled over to Regina, the heels of his boots clacking weakly on the hardwood below. They stood face to face, their feet touching and their breaths hot on each other's lips. Michael snaked an arm around Regina's waist and pulled her in until their bodies pressed up against each other. They could feel each other's hearts pounding against one another, but they couldn't tell whose was beating faster.
Michael took a deep inhale. "Y'know I'mâI'm a lot more shy than people think," he spoke softly, "especially around girls that I think are pretty. IâI tense up, make myself look like an idiot until I eventually scare them away. With you, I thought it wasn't gonna be any different."
Regina slithered her hands to hold onto the back of Michael's neck as he continued. "When I first spoke to you right before we were about to go on stage and you turned around, it was like I was looking at an angel that had fallen from Heaven. I had never seen someone so beautiful in all my life. And at first, I was so nervous I was gonna mess up my first impression and scare you off, but the more I spoke to you, the more comfortable I felt. It was like we clicked almost instantly. I felt like I could tell you things I'd never told anyone else. I knew almost right away that you were different, Gigi. And I didn't wanna come to terms with my true feelings for the longest time 'cause I was scared that any wrong move would destroy the beautiful friendship that we have, but now that I know you feel the same way about me that I have for you since the day we met, I'm ready to admit that I'm in love with you too, Regina."
And suddenly, the weight of a thousand sandbags were lifted off of both Michael and Regina's weary shoulders as the wretched chains of friendship finally snapped and they were free at long last.
Regina caressed Michael's face, brushing her thumb over his lips that he planted dainty pecks on before he grabbed her entire entire arm and kissed it all over, starting from the tip of her fingers all the way up to her shoulder.
"Oh, Michael," she murmured lovingly. Suddenly, her expression turned sour. "I'm still pissed at that Raggedy Ann looking bitch for ruining our kiss at midnight."
Michael chuckled before looking up at the clock on the wall and getting excited. "Hey, maybe we can still kiss at midnight after all!"
Regina looked up at the clock and scoffed. "Michael, don't be ridiculous, it's 2:59 in the morning."
"Which means it's 1 minute to midnight in LA."
Regina's expression softened when he said that. She had completely forgotten that the West Coast was 3 hours behind. Perhaps Phase 2 of her plan could be completed successfully after all.
"C'mon, let's count down," said Michael fervidly, waiting for the red second hand to reach exactly 10 tick marks before 12. Once it did, they counted in enthusiastic unison just like they did back at Studio 54.
"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!"
In what felt like slow motion, they both took a deep breath as if about to plunge into cold water and finished what they started exactly 3 hours ago. Their faces gravitated towards each other, their eyelids drifted closed, their hands grasped onto each other's bodies tight enough to leave marks, and shortly after the tips of their noses touched, the missing piece to their puzzle of love had finally been found as their lips hooked onto each other, clinging perfectly while their ears filled with the sounds of their hearts pounding.
Like they were starving for 40 days and 40 nights, they deepened the kiss as far as they could, desperate to consume as much of each other as possible after 21 months of waiting. The tips of their tongues glided past one another while their lips still continued to dance long after what was the socially acceptable time frame for a New Year's kiss, but they didn't care. The ferocious craving that they had both had since that pivotal day in March of '76 was finally resolved at long last, and God did it taste sweeter than any dessert they had ever eaten.
Finally, they pulled away from each other, a soft smacking sound echoing in the air as their wet, tender lips unfastened and hung open to pant shallow breaths. Their eyes found each other, and it almost felt like they were falling in love all over again as they giggled into each other's embrace and plopped down onto the couch right next to them like rag dolls.
Regina lay on top of Michael, her left ear situated right where his heart was as he used one hand to toy with her hair and the other to rub the small of her back.
"Happy New Year, angel," he whispered before reaching down to plant a kiss on top of Regina's head.
"Happy New Year, my love," she responded, fighting the aggressive drowsiness that was encapsulating her from head to toe. She worried that if she went to sleep, she'd wake up and realize that this was all a dream, but when she awoke the next morning in Michael's arms, she smiled against his warm skin, excited beyond words to see what 1978 had in store for them.
i've been wanting to experiment with fake text posts for a while, so i finally sat down and made some.
let me know what y'all think because if y'all enjoy these, i'd LOVE to make more
and not just for jermajesty either đ
i could definitely do:
⥠jafaar
⥠michael
⥠randy jr.
⥠marlon
⥠janet
⥠prince
⥠bigi
⥠paris
or honestly whoever else y'all wanna see.
feel free to leave requests or scenarios in the comments
Tag list : @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg @simply-lovley44
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hey girl! i love your retired life series, itâs so cute and funny! you know the tiktok trend thatâs going around, where you have ur parents say âare you digging in your ass?â in different emotions? could you write michael and special guests, the rest of the jackson brothers engage in that trend pls? đ¤
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Michael Jackson x Reader
Synopsis: When Michael's brothers see that Michael is going viral on Tiktok again, they decide they want in on some of the action. You help them film some trend at a family function.
Content/Warnings: Modern Au, Michael Lives, Tito lives, Gramps!Michael, fluff, Jackson Brothers, Tiktok, brainrot
W.C. 1k
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9 (Current)
Masterlist
Michael crossed his arms with a slight frown, "Do we really have to do this?"
He was sitting on the couch squished between Marlon and Jackie, looking at you with pleading eyes, silently willing you to give him an excuse to get up. You simply smiled at him and gave him a little wink.
Marlon clapped a hand on Michael's shoulder, "Come on, Mikey. You can't have all the fun, you gotta give us a little."
Michael smiled despite himself. Truthfully, he was kind of excited. Doing something silly like this reminded him of when they were all kids. Jermaine sat in an armchair, while Tito and Randy plopped themselves on the edge of the couch.
This whole thing had been Marlon's idea, of course. He had seen the trend bleeding over onto instagram reels, and thought it would be fun to join in with the younger generation. So when the family had gotten together for dinner at the house, Marlon had secretly asked you to help gather the brothers to make the video. You thought the idea was hilarious and agreed instantly.
"Okay, explain this again." Randy sighed, leaning back on the couch.
Marlon sat up excitedly, clearing his throat. "So, there is going to be a phrase that we all have to say. And all of us go down the line saying it with a certain type of emotion, like happy, sad, confused, befuddled, and so on."
"What the fuck is befuddled?" Tito glanced over at him.
"Confused." Everyone answered at the same time.
"So does everyone get it?" He looked around. The brothers all nodded slowly, trying to keep up their annoyed facade.
"So what's the phrase and how do we have to say it?" Michael looked at him.
"We're gonna do happy, confused, supportive, disappointed, and sad." Marlon read from the small list he had made.
Jermaine looked over, "Aren't sad and disappointed kinda the same?"
"What no?" Marlon crossed his arms defensively.
"They kinda are." Jermaine retorted.
Michael quickly took Marlon's side. "Yeah of course you would think that."
Jermaine side eyed him. Despite the back and forth, there was no real malice behind it, just old brotherly love.
"So what's the phrase?" Jackie finally asked.
Marlon and you shared a giggle before he spoke, "You've been diggin in your ass."
The brothers all immediately burst into retaliation, shaking their heads and calling him crazy if he thought they would actually say that. You laughed with Marlon at their reaction. "Oh come on, y'all are no fun, it's just a little joke." You spoke.
Michael folded immediately. "We should do it, there's no real harm in it."
Marlon wrapped an arm around his shoulder, "Exactly, Mikey. Good to know at least one of my brothers is still fun."
That comment alone was enough to make the rest give in, not wanting their fun card revoked from the family.
Marlon started. He cleared his throat before eagerly stating the phrase. "You've been diggin in your ass!!"
Everyone kept their lips sealed, trying not to laugh. Michael looked down, composing himself before saying the phrase with so much joy and whimsy that you couldn't help but laugh from behind the camera. You cut the video off mid take so that you wouldn't waste time. They went down the line trying to one up each other's performance of the phrase.
Jackie gave the most compelling, emotional, devastating delivery of the line. Jermaine managed to lock down the disappointed delivery, giving the camera a whole performance with the phrase. Tito naturally had the best confused delivery, mostly because he simply was still confused about this whole trend. And Randy gave the most giddy, supportive delivery of the phrase.
With each round, they all quickly leaned into the challenge, going over the top and putting on the whole works. Each take you had to pause the video for at least a minute so everyone could recover from the laughing.
When it was done, you showed them the finished video. They all giggled, making fun of each other for how serious they took a certain phrase.
Your youngest walked into the room to find the whole group huddled around the phone. "What are you guys doing?"
Michael smiled and showed her the phone proudly. "We did a fun trend!"
She stared at the screen with an unimpressed expression. "Y'all are so weird." She continued her path to her room.
Michael's brothers laughed at Michael's pout. Jackie patted his back, "Kids are hard, buddy."
Michael shrugged. "It's alright, she's going through a phase where she's embarrassed of anything and everything Y/n and I do."
Your daughter shouted from the top of the stairs. "It's not a phase dad!"
You and Michael shared a little laugh, knowing you were pushing her buttons. Marlon took the phone and posted the video. "Ugh, can't wait to get famous a second time." He said smugly.
Tito lightly hit him upside the head, "Don't be a smart ass, you were never famous to begin with."
His mouth dropped open in offense. "Excuse me, I was a fan favorite! I had the moves, what did you have a guitar and a big ass hat?"
The conversation quickly devolved into them arguing who was the favorite... besides Michael.
Michael came up and hugged you from behind, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "They're such dimwits."
You eyed him, "Yeah, don't exclude yourself from that statement." You laughed as he pouted.
"You're so mean to me." He placed his chin on your shoulder, making absolutely no move to leave your side.
"You're exactly where you want to be." You turned and gently kissed his cheek.
a/n: iâm sorry this took me like 6 days to finish
tw/cw: angst with a side of angst, but also a lot of fluff, michael is homewrecker but not (the door was unlocked), violence/blood, happy ending at least, a lot of yearning, 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f! receiving), fingering
Michael flicked the cap on and off the lighter, eyes watching lazily as the flame ignited and disappeared. The clicking sound white noise to his ears as he sat in his dressing room. Even the roar of the crowd outside wasnât enough to break him out of his melancholic trance.
His eyes trailed to the phone for what mustâve been the thousandth time. Wanting to call but he knew he shouldnât. He had no right to. Letting the opportunity of something slip through his fingers before he was able to get a clear look at what couldâve been. Heâd been so caught up with the rest of his life that he didnât appreciate the moments he did have.
The quiet evenings that melted into early morning, hours spent on the phone with you talking about nothing yet everything at onceâ the world feeling empty, save you and him. He missed hearing your laugh. Missed making you laugh. Missed having you at an arms distance and he had ruined it. Ran it into the ground so violently he was pretty sure there was no way to salvage whatever it was between the two of you.
Nothing. Maybe it had always been nothing and he had just been too caught up in being an idiot with delusions of what if.
There was a knock on his door, the stage manager saying he was on in ten minutes and Michael wasnât even sure if he replied. Eyes focused back on the lighter.
This was pathetic.
Even if he did decide to bite the bullet and call you, what on earth would he say?
Sorry for completely fucking up and running away from you because I was too scared to commit to something that felt too good to be true.
Michael laughed silently to himself, though it came out as a scoff.
It wouldnât matter.
His eyes caught on the paper he said heâd throw away days ago. It sat on the counter, for the most part untouched. It wasnât like he could read it anyway, given it was in the native tongue of the country he was currently in, but the large photo that took up the front page got the message across clearly.
Your smile wide and eyes crinkled at the edges, hand help up and a diamond catching the flash of a camera. Your fiancĂŠs arm draped around your waist with a lazy smile as he admired you.
Michaelâs eyes flicked to the lighter heâd been playing with, briefly considering setting the newspaper on fire.
It was becoming a pastime at this point. Every show, digging himself into a deeper hole as he sat there wishing he wouldâve done something different. Eyes trying not to look to the side of the stage, the flashing lights playing a trick on his mind and making him think you were thereâ then heâd blink, the shape of you fading into the form of his girlfriend and heâd grow slightly nauseous with guilt before turning away, his feet still moving to the beat and forcing a smile for the audience.
Michael felt like he never quite left. Never stopped performing. All the worldâs a stage.
Heâd ignore the way Bill would look at him in the rearview mirror, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose even though the hour was late.
Michael would tell himself that shrugging off his girlfriendâs advances was just him being tired from the show. That it had nothing to do with you. You two hadnât spoken in well over a year. Hell, you probably werenât even thinking of him. Why would you?
You were happy. Glowing. Engaged.
When he got a small break in the tour, finally getting a brief moment to breathe as he got to sleep in the familiar sheets of his own homeâ Christ, the date would be burned into his heart for forever.
He was eating breakfast, a glass of orange juice halfway to his lips when Bill walked into the kitchen. His expression unreadable with an envelope in his hands and Michael was irritated at the fact he noticed the paper was your favorite color.
âMorning,â he said warily, not loving the intensity Bill had brought into the space at such an early hour.
âMorning, Joker.â Billâs eyes flicked to the envelope, to Michael, back down. His jaw rolling.
âWhat?â
The older man opened his mouth, closed it, handed the mail to Michael.
He took hold of it with two fingers, oblivious for only a moment before his eyes took in the elegant script with your name and your fiancĂŠs scribbled on the front.
He froze, feeling like every vein and nerve ending in his body had hardened into stone, rendering him immobile as he continued to just stare at it.
He knew what it was. He did. Michael knew exactly what he was holding with revolting clarity.
Swallowing thickly, he could feel Bill staring at him, the manâs pity palpable and he hated it. He hated every fucking second even as his fingers gently tore open the mail and his eyes fell to the photo of you and your fiancĂŠ with the date of your wedding printed just underneath. Michael watched with hollowness as some dried flowersâ your favorite, fell from where they had been wedged between the invite and envelope, floating down uselessly into his lap. Mocking him, is what it more or less felt like.
He blamed the stinging in his eyes on something capricious and entirely unrelated to what felt like a talent in his hands.
âAre you okayââ
âI think Iâm just gonna hang out in the studio today. Work on some stuff.â Michael ignored the tightness beneath his tone, carefully sliding the invite back in the envelope and setting it down next to the plate he now had no appetite to touch.
âMichael.â
His eyes flicked up, the back of his throat faintly tasting acidic.
Billâs brows were deeply creased. âAre you okay?â
âWhy wouldnât I be?â
âWell, becauseâŚâ he gestured vaguely to the dried flowers still littered in front of Michael.
He shrugged, trying his best to have a nonchalant air about himself even though he knew Bill would see through it in a heartbeat. But he had to, it would hurt too much to not pretend.
All the worldâs a stage.
âI got an invite to my friendâs wedding, Iâm happy for her.â
The silence that swept into the room was enough to make his ears ring.
Bill looked like he wanted to argue. To push for honesty, but his lips pursed instead. Deciding to fall back on the pity he likely felt as he took in the lovelorn expression hidden beneath the fault lines of Michaelâs face.
Every time his eyes drifted towards a calendar, he could hear the ticking as time swept away from him. The way his heart thudded, nearly violent, felt like he was watching Doomsday slowly rear its ugly head.
Eight months until your wedding.
âHow come youâve never introduced me to her? Iâve met all your other friends.â His girlfriend asked as she got ready for bed, eyeing him from the mirror perched on top of the vanity.
His eyes slid from her to the invite that was wedged into the corner of the looking-glass. He didnât know why he put it there. Some form of self-flagellation, he supposed.
âNever the right time, I guess.â
âBut, wasnât she at that New Yearsââ
âYou know how busy I was that night.â
âI know, I just,â she turned, gnawing at the side of her cheek. Clearly wanting to push. She had asked ages ago if anything had happened between the two of you. Michael had had to force a laugh, acting like the idea was a niche form of insanity.
She then sighed, seeing an unnecessary battle in front of her. âNever mind.â
Five months.
Heâd somehow, completely unintentionally, ran into your fiancĂŠ at an award show he was helping coordinate.
Michael found his eyes searching the crowd, telling himself it wasnât to find you somewhere hidden amongst the masses, only faintly paying attention to the man in front of him speaking.
âI canât believe Iâm gonna have Michael Jackson at my wedding,â he laughed.
The sound was immensely irritating.
âWhy?â Was all Michael could think of to say.
âWell, I mean when I saw she was inviting you, I thought it was a bit of a joke.â
Again, the only word to leave Michaelâs lips was âWhy?â
âI mean, youâre you. And sheâs⌠you know.â
Michael simply stared at him and something in his expression made your fiancĂŠs smile slowly fall away.
âI just meantââ
âI know what you meant.â He said flatly, eyes flicking over the man in disgust before turning away from him. He probably shouldâve brought his sunglasses, because Michael knew from that point on heâd likely have a sour look on his face the rest of the night.
Why the fuck would you be marrying him?
He found his seat, his girlfriend looking at him warily. âYou okayââ
âFine.â
His night somehow got worse.
Because you walked out to present an award, your arm looped with Princeâs and he was pretty sure he physically felt a fuse pop somewhere in his brain.
â
Your eyes found him instantly in the crowd. You werenât even trying, honestly, but like a moth drawn to flame, you found where he was sitting. Your eyes quickly darting away as Prince announced the nominees and you did your best to not take note of the woman Michael was sat next to.
A warm smile was plastered on your face, your skin feeling hot in the stage lights as the winner was announced and you did your role. Clapping and handing off the award. Being taken slightly off guard as Prince leaned over to place a chaste kiss on your cheek as you exited the stage.
Your eyes danced back to the audience, being beckoned to turn and look just once by an unseeable force, briefly catching a glimpse of Michael getting up and leaving.
When you exited the venue, simply for a brief moment of silence, you pulled out a cigarette and lit it. The warm light from the fire catching in your eyes and you blinked up at the Hollywood night sky. The stars being dulled a bit by the greediness of Los Angeles.
This city ate and ate. Ate up everything that had been too foolish enough to set foot in it and you stood there with a grim realization that it was eating away at everyone around you. That it was chewing on you yourself. Your bones started to ache and itch and you wished momentarily for something a little stronger than nicotine to keep your restless mind at bay.
âI wish youâd quit that.â
Your hand froze midway to your mouth and you turned, seeing Michael leaned against the wall and looking at you. His expression unreadable and half hidden in shadow that the dim street light cast through the alley. Looking like heâd stepped right out of a Caravaggio.
It felt jarring. Seeing him in person this close. It had been two years. Two years of no calls. Just another gift dropped off at your doorstep by Bill with the letter M scratched into a gift tag on a birthday youâd rather ignore. Two years since the balcony in New York and his quiet Please donât.
âWhy are you out here?â You forced the words out, not knowing what else to say. Your fingers trembling as you pulled the cigarette from your lips and turned away. It hurt to look at him. âShouldnât you be with your girlfriend?â
âShouldnât you be with your fiancĂŠ?â
Your bit your cheek. âHeâs working.â
Michael hummed but didnât add anything further. Not that he had to. There was a cadence to his silence that made you cave and slate your eyes over to him.
âWhat?â
He shrugged one shoulder, âI didnât say anything.â
âYou want to though, I can tellââ
âI donât like him very much.â
You blinked. âExcuse me?â
Michael took a step closer, his expensive shoes crunching in the loose asphalt. âIs that really the guy youâre gonna spend the rest of your life with?â
âYou donât even know him.â
Michael scoffed slightly. âAnd you do?â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âYouâve been together for what? Maybe two years? And youâre getting married?â
You simply stared at him. At his set expression. The conviction that danced beneath the cracks that made him up.
You felt cold all of the sudden and your mouth dry and bitter. âWhy do you care?â
His mouth opened slightly, his dark eyes flicking between yours. âI⌠why wouldnât I care?â
A laugh left you, though it was more so a brief exhale of air. âMichael, we havenât spoken inââ
âTwo years.â He nodded his head, gaze dancing down to his shoes. âI know.â
You gnawed at your lip. Knowing you should go inside. Leave him there just like you did back in New York.
You never knew when to quit. Never knew a decision was reckless till you were left to deal with the aftermath.
You took a step forward, your heels making a sharp sound and his eyes flicked up to watch you as you grew closer. The scent of his cologne now swirling around you due to the proximity and it hit you violently. How much you missed him. How much you hated him for just dropping you out of his life even though you had no right to demand to stay.
âYou never called.â You said quietly, though not a whisper. Your words carrying off gently into the shadows.
His expression was warped into subtle pain as he looked at you openly. Like he was just as relieved to finally be this close after so long. A good kind of pain that tasted sweet on the tongue.
âI know.â His eyes moved down to your mouth, but you told yourself it was just the lighting.
âWhy?â You asked, watching in a twisted sort of fascination as his teeth briefly sunk into his bottom lip.
âI thought it would hurt too much.â
âI believe I couldâve coped.â
âNo,â he shook his head, hand reaching out and he took hold of your fingers gently, his thumb toying with your engagement ring. âI thought it would hurt me.â Michael sighed, his hand warm and much larger than yours as he gently raised it up to inspect the diamond in the light. âAnd I was right.â
Your heart felt like a rotting fruit. Wilting into a delicate mess as it burned a hole through your chest. Wishing he would just spit it out. Wishing you would. But both of you had waited too long. Let too much time pass. Slipped into other relationships and other priorities.
Part of you thought youâd be ready. Ready for whatever this was. But it was a grim and nauseating realization that Michael would never admit the truth to you. Even though he was known to be a man of words, he could never say it.
You hated the way your voice sounded as you spoke, feeling so small all of the sudden. âI want to get married, Michael.â His grip on your hand became a little tighter. âI want someone to come home to who isnât scared to tell me that Iâm theirs. I want a family. I want something safe. Steady.â
Your hand slipped from his.
You had only just taken off your heels, your head a little heavy from a few glasses of wine, when the phone rang.
âCan you grab that?â Your fiancĂŠ asked, already halfway into the shower.
You hummed, wishing the call would just go to voicemail. It was late. Nearing three in the morning and your entire night felt ruined after a an arbitrary argument over the dinner table on what was supposed to be a nice date.
You pressed the phone to your ear. âHelloââ
Michael said your name, static dancing on the outsides of it from the other end of the line.
âMichael, whatââ you leaned forward to look down the hall, but your fiancĂŠ was now shut behind a closed bathroom door, the sound of water running the only thing to greet your ears. âWhy are you calling so late?â Not to mention it had been nearly three months since that back alley conversation.
There was a beat of silence.
âI broke up with her.â
You felt your body touch the wall before you had even realized you tilted to the side. Your lips parted, eyes flickering uselessly around the room as his words tried to settle in your brain.
âWhy are you telling me this?â
He sighed and you briefly wondered where he was right now. Lying in bed? Sitting in his studio? Leaned against the counter in his kitchen?
Michaelâs words came out slowly. âI donât know.â
You shut your eyes, pushing your head a little hard to the wall.
He still canât fucking say it.
Did you even want him to? What would be the point?
âMichaelââ
âDonât marry him.â
It was like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. Leaving your eyes to water and throat tighten.
âWhat?â You hated that your voice wavered.
âDonât marry him.â
Your knuckles nearly cracked with how hard you were gripping the phone. âWhy are you doing this now?â
Your head was spinning. Going so fast you hardly kept up, feeling like the room was caving in and the sound of the shower running felt violent against your ears.
He couldnât be serious. You werenât sure if it was your rationale or your insecurities, but it felt like he was merely grasping for a life line. Some sort of tether to simply keep you around. Only doing this now because it meanât you werenât an option. No longer obtainable. Not something he could fall back on. Youâd been within his reach for years now, always there in someway shape or form.
Now you werenât.
âI justââ
âHey, babe? Could you grab me a towel?â
You took a shaking breath, lowering the phone to your shoulder and trying to steady your voice. âOne second.â
You faintly heard Michael say your name and you bit hard down on your tongue, willing the tightness in your throat to go away.
The glass was cool against your skin as you leaned against it, sitting in the alcove as you watched the crystal white plains of a mountain side. Observing mutely as you saw a deer disappear into the neighboring woods of the massive lodge-like manor you had rented out for your wedding. The environment was reminiscent of a winter wonderland, but you felt numbly void of any of the whimsy. Something that shouldâve concerned you, given you were getting married in the morning.
But you felt⌠you didnât know. Not quite real. Like you were watching from an outer perspective. That this wasnât really happening to you, not really.
You pressed your head a little harder into the glass. Briefly wondering what would happen if the window broke and you went plummeting three floors down to the ice slicked patio that lay below.
You felt someone gently start to pull you back and you turned, seeing your friend look down at you. Their expression that of barely masked concern. A little too knowing.
âYou okay?â Their eyes searched yours and you knew what they were really asking. Anytime they had tried to talk to you about itâ everything. Michael. The engagementâ you shut down. Lapsing in on yourself in fear to face the truth. Wanting to continue to live in a delusion of comfort. Comfort you werenât even feeling anymore.
âJust nervous,â you brushed off their hand as you stood, walking to the vanity and mindlessly shuffling through your make up for the dinner tonight. The guests were arriving in a few hours and you didnât want to admit how terrified you were.
You hadnât spoken to Michael since that phone call. You werenât even sure if he was still coming. You werenât even entirely sure why you invited him in the first place. Or maybe you did, just acting as though the thought was in a foreign language you couldnât understand.
Your friend messed with the ends of your hair as they came to stand behind you, trying to meet your gaze in the mirror but your eyes flicked away.
âYou know you donât have toââ
âIâm gonna start getting ready.â
Your friend sighed, but smiled. âOkay.â
Your finger lazily traced the rim of your wine glass as the dinner went on. Music faintly playing from a stereo and the chatter around you was white noise as you tried to look everywhere but at him.
He was sat down the long table and you could just barely hear him talking to one of your mutual friends from Epic. The topic of the conversation unknown, but his voice carried easily. The cadence and tone greeting your ears like an old song you hadnât heard in ages.
The whole night you felt like you could feel your heart in your throat. An uncomfortable constriction that made it a little hard to breathe. Your white dress feeling too tight even though the cut resembled a slip.
The sound of glass tinking from a knife suddenly rang around the room and your eyes danced up, watching with a hollowness as your fiancĂŠ stood up to make a toast to end the evening.
His voice stretched out across the room, but you couldnât hear him. Your ears ringing and your skin feeling too hot because you knew Michael was watching you.
You didnât hear a single fucking word. Feeling like you were about to pass out as your fiancĂŠ looked down at you with a smile and you returned it dutifully, eyes shutting briefly as he leaned down to press a chaste kiss to the top of your head.
It was two in the morning as you found yourself walking out to the hot tub on the back patio. The air biting with a frost that went straight to your bones. It felt refreshing, its own form of a cold plunge on your mind. Your eyes taking in the blue tint the snow got from the moonlight as more flecks slowly floated down to the earth.
You wrapped your sweater a little tighter around you, though it really didnât do much considering how thin your pajama pants were and your slippers were already started to get soaked through. Despite this and with a complete lack of concern for hypothermia, you sat at the edge of the hot tub and ran your fingers gently through the water, letting the heat of hit sink into your skin. A stark dichotomy to snowflakes that continued to land in your hair.
The manor, despite its sheer size, felt suffocating. You had left your room in such haste you had forgotten to grab a pack of cigarettes and you tried to focus on the annoyance of that as a distraction.
Hearing footsteps somewhere behind you and expecting it to be your friend attempting another heart to heart, you turned. âI really donât want to talkââ
Your eyes met Michaelâs.
He froze, seeming to be as equally surprised to see you.
âIâm sorry, Iâllââ He started to take a step back and the word left you before you could think better of it.
âStay.â
You two watched each other for another halted moment, feeling as though whatever happened next would set in motion something that would alter history. One of those moments that would be looked backed on years down the road and inspected.
Michael slowly approached, as if nearing a skittish animal, his shoes crunching in the newly set snow before he sat down near you. Not quite next to.
It was silent for a while, you had no idea how much time had passed. Not looking at him but you could feel where his gaze kept landing. His eyes catching on the diamond like he couldnât help it.
You watched in feigned curiosity as the water rippled round your fingers. âJust say it.â
You heard him take in a slow breath. âSay what?â
You laughed lightly, âI know you donât approve of all this.â
Michael looked away from you for a moment, his jaw rolling as he took in the distant mountains. Something flickering beneath the surface of his face before he landed on what he was going to say. âWhy him?â
You messed with the ring, the metal becoming biting and loose with the cold. âWhy not him?â You werenât sure what you wanted him to say.
âDo you love him?â
You shut your eyes, âMichaelââ
âDo you?â
It wouldnât matter. Why would it? Why was it your responsibility to confess first? Confess just to make him more comfortable in his own admittance? You were tired of it.
Slowly you stood up, your bones and muscles protesting. âIâm gonna get some sleep.â
Michael watched you leave without another word.
â
He sat there a while longer. Eyes staring blankly at the aquamarine in front of him, feeling the warmth from the space you had occupied start to evaporate.
Doomsday had approached, apparently. The timing coinciding with the earth dying. Everything turning to ice and rotting from frost.
It physically pained him to look at you, aside from the usual reasons.
You looked lost. Lost in yourself. In everything. He didnât know how to help. Didnât know how to not make things worse. Feeling selfish for having sought you out in the first place and searching for a reason to steal you away. Still not able to admit out loud to himself or you the true intention behind his protests. Even if he knew. Even if you did. The fact he was too much of a coward to just spit it out felt like reason enough he didnât deserve anything to do with you.
The heat once he walked back inside felt like heâd walked into a furnace. Much too hot and making his skin itch against his clothes. He tugged at the collar of his sweater as he made his way through the large estate. The old wood paneling provided the allusion to an oak labyrinth and his shoes were a muffled thud along the rug.
He faintly heard laughter, though he didnât pay it any mind as he walked by a cracked door to what mustâve lead to some sort of den or parlor. The scent of tabacco wafting out into the hall on the coattails of men chattering.
Then he heard your name drip from your fiancĂŠs lips and he froze mid-step, physically feeling his ears adjust to listen better as he slowly walked a few steps back closer to the door.
âAnd youâre sure she has no idea?â Someone said, though Michael hadnât the faintest idea who. The whole room appeared to only be men from the grooms side.
He tried to look into the room as inconspicuously as possible, seeing your fiancĂŠ sat in a chair with a cigar between his teeth and his smile akin to a shark.
âHell no. If she knew, you really think weâd be getting married?â
âBut why even get married?â
âThatâs a dumb question. You know how much money she makes?â
âYeah, butââ
âBesides, itâll help me get a leg up. You know how much people love industry couples.â
âAnd if people found out youâve been having an affair? That shit is gonna go up in flames.â
It was taking an ungodly amount of willpower for Michael not to yank the door open an shove the cigar straight into your fiancĂŠs eye socket, manufacturing some twisted form of lobotomy just to get him to shut up but the bastard kept going.
âAnd why do you think I was so adamant that we wonât need a prenup?â
His friend laughed. âHow on earth did you convince her not to sign one?â
âSheâs a romantic, poor thing will listen to anything if I dust some sugar on top.â
Michael let out a low breath as he stepped back, one hand rubbing against his chin as he paced in front of the door for a moment. The image that of a lion determining if it wanted to lunge or not.
He didnât even have the time to feel rectified in his initial dislike of the guy, because this? This was so much worse.
The moment he heard footsteps approaching the door, Michael acted on pure instinct as he quickly rounded the corner, pressing his back into the wall and listening as they all called it a night. Too drunk to take any note of him as they walked past and thankfully none of them turning the corner.
And then he saw him.
Michael prided himself in not being a violent man. He usually had an aversion to it, given how he was raised.
Yet his hand wound in the fabric of your fiancĂŠs shirt and he really didnât have to think about it. Didnât think about it at all as he yanked him closer, his fist drawing back before shooting forward and landing in the bone structure of the mans nose with a satisfying crack.
Your fiancĂŠ wouldâve staggered back from the shock of pain, but Michael still had a vice-like grip on his shirt and he pulled him close again.
Another punch, his knuckles being cut against teeth but he didnât care.
Michael watched as the man crumbled to his knees, coughing out blood and tears pouring out of his eyes as he looked up at him. It was nearly pitiful.
He watched in a strange sort of fascination as shock rippled over your fiancĂŠs features, because who wouldâve thought? Michael had a relatively gentle reputation about him. Known more so to bite back with words when prompted, but always polite.
âWhat the hell, man?â
âYouâre lucky I donât knock your ass unconscious.â
âWhatâs your problem?â He tried to stand up, but Michael was still holding onto his shirt and he forced him to stay put as he leaned his face down to look him in the eye.
âYouâre a pathetic piece of shit,â despite the rage that made his skin feel too hot, Michaelâs tone was even. âAnd trust me when I say youâre never going to get the privilege to ever look at her again.â
âYou canâtââ
Michael yanked him up easily before shoving him away, watching as the man stumbled like a deer on ice.
âGet out of here.â
âPlease man, you canât tell her.â
Michael raised both brows at him, a soundless laugh leaving his lips. âIâm about two seconds away from fucking killing you.â
With that, he practically ran down the hall, his tail tucked between his legs and blood leaving droplets in the expensive rug.
Michael flexed his hand and eyes flicked down to the split skin of his knuckles. The skin already red and beginning to swell as crimson was caked in the crevices.
Unfortunate.
He immediately started wandering the halls in a desperate attempt to find your room, the task momentarily felt impossible until thankfully his eyes caught sight of some decorations your bridesmaids mustâve put up.
His tongue clicked at the Bride to Be banner draped across the wood but he didnât waste time as he knocked and whispered your name.
No answer.
âPlease open the door.â He could hear the desperation in his voice, pressing his forehead against the wood as if to will it open. âPlease.â
He was met with silence.
Not wanting to completely air out something that deserved to be private in the hallway, he said a silent prayer that heâd be able to catch you before you were due to walk the aisle in the morning.
Yet still, he needed to say something, even in a last ditch effort that would probably come up fruitless.
âPlease donât marry him.â
His knee was jumping up and down so violently that he was getting a few side eyes and his suit felt too tight.
Michaelâs eyes flicked around the ballroom that was in the west wing of the property. The decorations were beautiful but it only made him more nauseous. Though, admittedly, he got a small amount of satisfaction as people kept sending curious glances towards the groom. Whose face was now swollen black and blue, muttering it was from a fall and refusing to look in Michaelâs direction.
But as his own eyes slid to the door, his anxieties pulsed.
If he had to, he would happily jump up and protest the union during the ceremony. Hell, heâd run out in the middle of the aisle and fall to his knees in front of you if it came down to it.
His eyes immediately caught on your friend, whoâd heâd met briefly throughout the years, rushing down the aisle and failing to look inconspicuous in her worry.
He watched raptly as they whispered something to one of the bridesmaids, their expression a little panicked and Michael didnât waist time as he got up and bee lined it out of the ballroom.
The bride was missing.
Now was his chance.
He had peeked into most of the common spaces that littered the first floor, but they remained empty as winter light poured silently through the windows. Checked outside just to see if youâd wandered back to the hot tub. Looked out on the back terrace to see if you were smoking.
Hell, he even checked the kitchen but got shooed away by staff.
Feeling at a complete loss for what to do, his mind fell back on the man who always seemed to have the answers.
Michael quickly made his way back to his room, the first thing on his to-do list was to call Bill and see if he could get there within a reasonable time. He would know what to do. He always did.
Unlocking the door, he barely made it one foot inside when he paused.
Feeling like he was seeing some sort of apparition as he saw you sitting on the edge of his bed, staring off into the distance while in your wedding dress.
Barely a moment passed before he shook away the initial shock of seeing you, quickly shutting the door behind him and locking it before making his way over to you.
He knealt down on the ground, hands gently taking hold of your face to get you to look at him and his heart broke a little further at the redness in your eyes and smeared mascara.
âHey, whatââ
âI canât do this.â
His thumb scraped away a tear that slipped from the corner of your eye and he shook his head. âThatâs okay. You donât have to do anything you donât want to.â
You sniffed and looked away from him. âBut all these peopleâŚâ
âHey, Iâll handle it. Okay?â
âMichaelââ
âItâs okay,â he pulled you into a hug, your face burying into the crook of his neck and the lace of your veil tickled his cheek.
Heâd found your friend searching the halls for you, quietly informing them where you were and not a moment later they were practically running by his side to get back to his room.
Michael watched quietly from the desk pushed beneath window as they comforted you, understanding etched into their features and their words comforting as they tried to get your breathing to calm down.
He hated seeing you like this.
Eventually there was a small knock on his door and he cracked it open slightly to see who it was, relief flooding into him when Bill nodded his head in greeting.
âReady, Joker?â
âOne sec,â he gestured for him to come in and he felt a strangely warm sensation swirl in his chest when he saw you look at Bill, your own relieved smile tugging at your lips.
âHey kid,â Bill cautiously approached you but barely a moment passed before you pulled him into a hug.
Michaelâs eyes flicked to the ground, not wanting to intrude on the intimate moment. He supposed he never considered that you two had gotten close. Which was naive of him.
Nearly every time heâd bought you a gift, Bill was the one to drop it off at your door. Nearly every time you and him were even in the same room, he was there too. He was there in Vegas helping you get back to your room sometimes when you had too much to drink. Picking you up from a random bar on the strip even though that wasnât his job. A duty of care, he would say.
Michaelâs heart was aching, though he was starting to realize it beat with a different cadence.
âIâll wait for you guys to leave before I start telling people to go, I donât want there to be a commotion until sheâs away.â Your friend said quietly, coming to stand beside Michael as they watched you and Bill have a comforting moment.
He nodded, âthank you.â
They hummed, sparing Michael a glance before walking away. âTake care of her.â
They were only about twenty minutes into the drive to a hotel Bill had hastily booked when you fell asleep. Your head resting in his lap as slumber finally took you. He took note of the hollowness beneath your eyes, not just from crying, but you probably hadnât been an able to get a wink of sleep.
Michaelâs eyes danced along your features, the way they looked like they were finally getting a moment of rest in what mustâve been months. The way his sweater was wrapped around you as well as a pair of his pajama pants, given youâd ditched your wedding dress and left it on the bathroom floor in his room.
Hesitantly, he began to play with your hair, twirling the ends of it around his fingers.
His eyes then flicked up, catching Bill glancing at him in the rear view mirror.
â
You woke up slowly, your mind floating on the edges of a dreamless sleep as you blinked heavily. Your eyes not quite adjusting to the foreign space around you.
Your brows furrowed, confused as youâ
You sat up as your memories hit you at once.
Of you putting on the veil and staring at yourself so long in the mirror you nearly punched the glass. Of you starting to panic, your lungs not getting any air despite the deep and desperate breaths you were taking. Of running to the one place you thought might be safe and ending up in Michaelâs room.
You rubbed at your eyes, taking note of the faint sound of a tv coming from a different room.
Standing on shaking legs, you stared down at the clothes you were wearing. You knew whose they were, but it was made even more apparent because you were absolutely drowning in the smell of his cologne.
It comforted you more than it shouldâve.
Taking hold of the front of the sweater, you brought it to your nose and let the scent waft over your mind, giving yourself a little solace.
A glint caught your eye and you paused. Staring at your ring for a moment.
One breath. Two.
You slid it off and rested it gently on the nightstand before walking out of the room.
Michael was sitting on the couch, his elbows rested on his knees as he mindlessly flicked through channels, his eyes clearly not focused on anything in particular but as if sensing you, his gaze slated to the side.
His smile was small, but warm. The sight of it making your mind feel a little fuzzy. âIâm surprised youâre up.â
Your fingers played with the hem of his sweater and he immediately noticed the lack of ring.
âWhat time is it?â
âNearing eleven.â
âChrist,â youâd slept for hours.
He stood up slowly, as if not to startle you, and you nearly laughed. Feeling a little delirious.
You watched him as he approached, his steps halting just a foot away from you and his expression fell into something more earnest. âAreââ
âListen,â you said quickly, not being able to look him in the eye. âI⌠thank you, Michael. Really.â You dared a glance at him and you felt the wind be taken from you.
He was so beautiful, even in the low light. The way the glint of the tv caught in his eyes and danced along the sharp planes of his face.
Your eyes then landed on his hands.
âMichael, what?ââ You went to reach for him but he pulled back a bit.
âItâs nothing.â
âMichael.â You took hold of his wrists, not that he was really putting up much of a fight and you sucked in a breath when the bruises and dried blood came into view. Your brows furrowed, looking up at him but he was looking at a spot over your shoulder.
âWhat happened?â
âItâs really not a big deal.â
âI still want to know.â
He bit his cheek, eyes finally finding yours again. âI mightâve punched your fiancĂŠ.â
Your jaw went a little slack.
âTwice,â he added.
You blinked at him.
Michael smiled, not seeming to be able to help himself.
You were speechless, stumbling over what to possibly say to that before you landed on the most reasonable option.
âWhy?â
His amusement at his wounds slowly melted, his focus drifting down to where you were gently holding his hand. Your thumb grazing carefully over the bruises. âIâm not sure if now is the right time to tell you.â
You shut your eyes for a moment, willing your heart to calm down. âPlease.â You tugged him a little a closer, maybe absentmindedly. Maybe not. âIâm tired of dancing around inconvenient truths. Please.â
Michael let out a slow breath, cautiously meeting your eyes as he slowly started to tell you everything heâd overheard.
You werenât sure how you were supposed to react. Hurt, of course. And you did feel your heart break a little as the news landed. Although you knew you didnât love him as you should, although you knew your heart was never in the right place, to be used a pawn like what wasâŚ
It was dehumanizing.
You blinked. Feeling something hot slip down your face but it was quickly replaced by Michaelâs warm fingers gently wiping it away before pulling you into a hug. You were only half aware he had placed a kiss to the top of your head and he rocked you side to side, doing his best to help ground you in such a moment.
To make sure you felt held and werenât abandoned in your moment of clarity.
âThanks,â you muttered into his shoulder, letting yourself melt into him as your arms wrapped around him. His own arms settling around you and holding you close.
âFor what?â
âPunching him.â
Michael laughed slightly and you felt the vibration rattle your chest.
You spent the next two days in a strange sort of domestic purgatory. The hotel room producing a small asylum hidden away from the rest of the world as you two ate room service and watched whatever old Hollywood reruns were playing on cable. Still tiptoeing around the elephant that seemed to be haunted your dynamic. Begging to be addressed but youâd bite your tongue when the words wanted to slip out.
Youâd bite down every time your head would fall against his shoulder during a movie and his arm would drape over your shoulders. Bit your tongue that first night when you had to convince him to not sleep on the couch and that it was okay if he shared the bed. Bit your tongue at his shyness to slip under the sheets with you. Bit down so hard you tasted metal when you woke up in the morning with one of his arms lazily wrapped around your waist and his features relaxed in deep sleep, the morning light gently kissing his eyelids.
You bit your tongue when he said over lunch that he was needing to head back to California that night.
You didnât say much of a word as you sat curled up on one of the seats of his private jet, still wearing his sweater because you couldnât bear to take it off, feeling like it was some sort of tether or what if.
You felt like the last hours of your life had passed by in a strange, opium induced haze as you found yourself standing on the front doorstep of your house. Arms wrapped around yourself as you watched Michael try to find something to say.
âIâŚâ he started, stopped.
You looked down at your feet, wearing a pair of shoes he had bought you given you couldnât go around the last few days in a pair of socks or your supposed-to-be-wedding-heels.
You tried to make your voice sound more steady than you felt. âYou donât have to say or do anything.â
Because you really were tired. Exhausted from this back and forth that seemed to have no end. Feeling as if you were near the final jagged strings of your thread after years of unraveling towards a maybe.
He said nothing as he pulled you into a hug, resting his chin on top of your head and you could hear how fast his heart was beating as you nestled against his chest.
Then he stepped back, his hands trailing down your arms as he did so, fingers briefly squeezing yours before they fell away.
Bill looked slightly irritated every time he saw him, something Michael wasnât overly appreciative of but he also knew why and couldnât blame him.
The moment he had stepped back into the car after dropping you off, the man looked like he wanted to throttle Michael over the head.
âNow why the hell are you back in my car and not with that young lady?â
Michael shook his head, sinking into the expensive leather.
âItâs not the right time.â
Bill blinked at him, very slowly. âJoker, itâs been years.â
âShe just called off her wedding.â
âFor you.â
âYou donât know that.â
It was a rare moment when Bill rolled his eyes at him.
âYouâre helpless.â
Despite the warranted frustration, Michael still felt like he had made the right decision. Jumping into something, asking something from you, right after a broken off engagement and cancelled wedding just didnât seem like a good idea. He was sure it was likely a mixture of insecurity and being pragmatic, but he worried if he had asked, would your answer have been what you truly wanted? He was terrified that youâd only say yes to him because you were in a bad headspace.
Now, he had learned, he didnât completely drop off the face of the earth like last time.
He called you frequently, and if he couldâve had it his own way, it wouldâve been every night.
But between both of you working on new music and the demands of PR, moments to just take a second to breathe were rare.
When you two were able to meet in person, the air was different. Thicker and just a bit sweeter on the tongue.
Lingering touches he had no excuse for. Stolen glances.
He noticed you liked to play with his fingers a lot, notably the hand that had been bloodied and bruised while punching your ex. Your fingers lightly dragging over the now long ago healed knuckles as you say next to each other while not fully paying attention to what was on the screen.
You were so soft, both physically but also the way you held yourself. A grace about you seen only in rare souls.
Sometimes, when the hour was well past appropriate and the third movie of the night was playing faintly in the background, he liked to just sit at the kitchen counter and watch you cook. The way youâd pull your hair back and navigate around the space easily, now well accustomed to where everything was. Whipping something together with whatever he had in the fridge because you always got hungry late at night.
He rarely did, mostly sticking to just ice cream as a late snack, but once he realized you liked to cook he made sure to have a stocked kitchen whenever you came over.
Some of his favorite evenings were spent showing you around the gardens of Neverland Ranch, watching your reaction to things with rapt attention, desperate to know if you liked it or not. Trying and probably failing to look nonchalant as he pointed out the new plot of gardens that were littered in your favorite flowers.
One evening you two had been in his studio, Michael showing you some of his demos for Dangerous when he got a call, his mother insisting he come over for dinner and he hadnât thought much about it as he agreed, muttering he was going to be bringing a friend.
You had looked terrified to meet his family, something he found rather endearing. He sat throughout the night, quiet for the most part as the chatter was endless, watching as you shared a few laughs with Janet and raising an eyebrow at Marlon as he tried to flirt with you. Then later into the night, heâd walked past the living room to see you hunched over a photo album with his mother, your smile small but the way his mom was looking at youâŚ
It hit him nearly violently in the chest. The knowing. Even though there had been the underlying assumption in his heart for years, it truly hit him face on in that moment.
He absolutely adored you.
â
You sat on one of the many benches that were littered around Neverland, your eyes watching the way the petals of your favorite flowers moved in the late night breeze as you raised a cigarette to your lips.
You could faintly hear music pouring out from the house, the sound of cheerful and half drunken conversation dancing underneath it.
It was the release party for Dangerous, at least a personal friends and family only kind of party. So the air was inherently more relaxed given the lack of cameras and press coverage.
âAre you ever gonna knock that habit?â
You turned, finding Michael walking towards you with a can of coke in his hand and a small, knowing smile on his face.
You shrugged a shoulder halfheartedly as he sat down next to you. âIt calms me down.â
âYouâre nervous that often?â
âIâm always nervous around you.â The confession slipped past your lips easily, your tongue being loosened by the wine youâd had and you immediately felt your cheeks warm.
He didnât say anything for a moment, merely drumming a beat into his leg with his fingers before he apparently decided something.
Setting down his can of something that was definitely stronger than coca-cola, he stood up and held out his hand.
You raised a brow at him. âWhatââ
âDance with me.â
âHere?â
âYes.â
You blinked at him, looked down at his hand.
âOkay.â
You let him pull you up and you dropped your cigarette, crushing it beneath your heel and he tsk-d.
With a slight roll of your eyes, your hands rested around his neck as his fell to your waist.
âI promise Iâll pick it up.â
âThank you,â he muttered, gently starting to guide you into a rhythm that fell in step with the music pouring out of the doors.
Your fingers absentmindedly played the curls at the nape of his neck, letting your mind slide into something more relaxed as he lead the way. Your shoes crunching in the gravel as you moved. Your skin beginning to ripple in goosebumps despite the warmth of the night as his fingers ran light circles into your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.
Like the universe demanded it, your eyes flicked up and he was already looking at you. His gaze set low and heavy, eyes dark in a way that had nothing to do with the lighting.
One of his hands slid up from your waist to your arm, spinning you out before pulling you back in, your hands resting against his chest and feeling a little breathless.
He pulled you closer, if possible, your bodies pressed together as you moved. The music swirling around your bodies and tugging at your strings like a masterful puppeteer.
Your eyes fell down to his mouth without warrant. Taking in the soft shape of his lips and the faint sweet smell of moscato on his tongue as he quietly muttered your name.
âMikey! Where are you, weâre gonna take pictures!â Tito called from somewhere in the distance.
You shut your eyes at the interruption, nearly wanting to laugh because of course that would happen now.
âIâm sorry,â he whispered, pressing his forehead gently against yours before pulling away.
âItâs fine,â you wrapped your arms around yourself, the warmth going out of the night as you watched him start to walk away for the hundredth time.
Michael made it a few steps before halting, head dropping as he looked down at his shoes and he laughed. The sound being ripped directly from his diaphragm as he shook his head, leaning his head back to look up at the sky.
âYou know what? No. Iâm not doing this shit again.â
Next thing you knew he was walking back towards you, each step heavy with purpose and you barely had time to register his hands coming up to cup your face before his lips crashed against yours.
You felt dizzy. The hottest of colors were dancing behind your eyes as your lips parted on their own accord, a broken sound of relief tearing of your throat and disappearing into the kiss.
It was desperate, the way you two were grabbing at each other, to get closer in ways that werenât humanely possible. Reaching for something in each other that had been at your fingertips for years.
âMichael,â you breathed, his name winding between your ribs and binding your lungs tightly.
He enveloped you in his arms like you were his life source, his fingers greedily tugging at the fabric of your dress and he tasted so sweet as his tongue traced the inside of your cheek.
Your own fingers buried in his hair, wanting to feel all of him and folding into his body as his arms wrapped around your waist.
There was a knot tightening between you and neither wanted to break it just yet.
His lips moved away from yours, and before you could utter a complaint, his mouth latched onto the space below your jaw.
Reaching, rising, blowing.
It was a plea in disguise, seeing as Michael was never good at putting such emotions into words with you. It was a plea for understanding. Desperate that you now knew how long he had been wanting to do this.
You pulled his head back by his hair gently, a barely audible groan passed his mouth but it was swallowed by your breath.
You hardly had any recollection of ending up in his room. Flashes of you smiling at people as Michael dragged you through his house by the hand flickered in your mind, but you were so desperate to kiss him again that it all felt like a blur.
The moment the door shut behind him, he was on you. His hands everywhere, wanting to map out every inch of your skin.
You settled into your own greed comfortably, pulling at his jacket or anything else that was hiding him away from you.
Nearly ten years of frustration and want snapping violently.
He picked you up easily, leading you through the room as your arms wrapped around his neck, your mouth finding its way back to his naturally. Like it had always meant to be there.
His soft sheets met your back but all your mind could focus on was the heat of him. How warm he was against you and the roughness of his hands as he pushed your dress up around your waist.
Your fingers dug into his shirt, pulling at the fabric and he helped you yank it up and off, laughing lightly at how needy you were being but you didnât have it in you to care at the moment. Only finding it wildly attractive as he smiled against your mouth as he kissed you again. Your breath stuttering as you felt his fingers hook into the band of your underwear and start to tug them down, followed by his own body lowering and his mouth dusting kisses along your skin as he did.
It felt surreal seeing him like that, between your spread legs and his fingers digging into your thighs. His dark eyes meeting yours as he lowered and his mouth met your pussy with an opened mouth, wet kiss.
The sound that left you was sinful enough to create a whole new circle of hell.
Your back arched off the bed as he ate you out like a man starved. His fingers digging into your hips to keep you steady, his tongue setting a relentless pace and when he moaned you felt it vibrate directly into what mustâve been your soul.
Your hands buried in his hair, your hips rolling up to meet his mouth and then you felt whatever loose grip on sanity you had slip and shatter on the ground as you felt two of his fingers slowly sink into you.
The way his name dripped off your tongue didnât even sound like you.
Michael smiled, looking ridiculously pleased with himself. âThatâs it, baby.â
The term of endearment made you clench and he hummed in content before going back to your clit dutifully. His fingers continuing a rhythmic thrust as he curved them slightly, hitting some sweet inside of you that made you see stars.
You came suddenly and without much pretense, curling in on yourself and trying to get away from his mouth due to the sensitivity but he kept going. Appearing mindless and completely lost, drinking you up as if he was a man who had stumbled upon a desert spring.
âMichael, Iâ fuck.â
âOne more, baby. I know you can do it.â His voice was soft, dropping into a lower cadence you only heard on rare occasions. You felt warm all over but the heat mainly centered low in your belly, the sensation on the cusp of being overwhelming.
When he flattened his tongue over your clit, eyes flicking up to meet yoursâ the imagine of that alone did it for you as you crashed over the edge again, the orgasm truly feeling like a little death.
You barely registered him kissing back up your body, faintly hearing the metallic sound of his belt coming undone.
His lips and teeth and tongue were everywhere, exploring anything he hadnât been able to with a feverish sort of curiosity.
Michaelâs large hand cupped your chin, bringing your mouth to his in a kiss that was a complete mess but absolutely perfect.
His teeth caught on your bottom lip as he pulled back, his pupils blown wide as he looked down at you and watching with the most devout look on his face as he took in your reaction to the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.
Michaelâs hands then took hold of yours, lacing his fingers through your own and pulling your arms up and above your head, lips falling back in place against yours as he finally sank in. Inch by inch and he shuddered against you so violently he rattled the bed frame, his moan into your mouth making you clench.
He hissed into your mouth at that, pulling away to bury his head in the crook of your neck, his grasp on your hands getting tighter as he slowly pulled out. Sunk back in.
It was euphoric. You had no other word to describe it.
The drag of him in and out of you akin to heaven as your head fell back against the sheets, overwhelmed by the worldly pleasure of sex.
Though his thrusts were measured, there was an underlying brutality to them. A desperate need to get closer to you. To dig so deep his fingers brushed against your soul, tethering you to him for forever.
You cried out as he adjusted the angle of his hips, his cock somehow going further and the head brushing against that spot again.
âThatâs it,â he praised low into your ear. âThere she is.â
You felt Michael smile into the side of your neck, knowing you were close and chasing the high with you. His rhythm started to settle into something more erratic, the sounds he was making in your ear, the sensation of being filled by him so completely.
âIâm⌠Please.â
âYouâre doing so well, baby.â His hips settled against yours, the roll of them sliding against your clit and you were pretty sure you started to cry as you tipped over the edge again, your back arching and chest pressing against his. Michaelâs lips catching your moan and he followed soon after, his hips faltering for a moment, his thrusts getting more shallow as he started to come.
You felt full, in ways you had no proper way to elucidate.
He practically melted on top of you, his cock still buried in deep and your sweat coated bodies stuck to each other like they were always meant to be in such a position.
Heavy breaths and your roaring heartbeat was all you could hear for a few minutes, trying and failing to come down from the dream state you were in.
Michaelâs fingers finally let go of your own, pulling his arms down so he could lift himself up slightly, his thumb gently wiping away the smeared mascara that had made a mess beneath your eyes.
He simply observed you, and despite what you two had just done, you blushed. âWhat?â
His lips tugged up slightly, you could see him turning something over in his head as he had a brief mental debate. And then the answer landed. A sudden clarity shifting his features into something you had never quite seen on him before.
It was breathtaking.
âI love you.â
Your eyes flicked between his. The confession you two had been circling for years finally out in the air, sitting between you now and expectant.
He pressed his forehead to yours gently. âI love you. I shouldâve said it a thousand times by now and Iâm sorry that I havenât.â
âMichaelââ
âI do. I love youââ
You kissed him, pulling his face down to meet yours. It felt different. More real and more tangible than anything else that had just happened in this bedroom.
Just barely pulling away from his mouth, your fingers lightly dragged along his cheekbone, wanting to take in all of him openly and without any fear. It was your turn, he deserved that as much as you did.
âI love you.â
A smile, a grin more like, slowly pulled at his features. âYeah?â
You nodded, your own giddiness starting to take a foothold as you laughed. Tears beading up in your eyes for a whole new reason. âYeah.â
And you two started again, the evening blending into a hazy bliss of touch and tenderness. His mouth all over, not wanting to leave a single inch of you without attention.
Michael was smiling so hard his face hurt, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he looked out into the masses of the crowd. The first night of the Dangerous tour a success for a multitude of reasons.
He couldnât hear a damn thing. Not just from the screams or the fact his ears were ringing, but the adrenaline was making his head feel fuzzy.
âThank you!â He called out into the microphone, going through the list of people who had helped make the show possible. Thanking the fans for their unwavering support and love. Thanking God for being so generous with him.
âAnd lastly,â he said a little breathless. âIâd like to thank my beautiful wife.â
There was the briefest moment of silence, barely a heart beat, before the crowd erupted. Nearly deafening with the wave of sound that slammed into him like a wall.
His eyes slated to the side of the stage, laughing again when he took notice of you shaking your head at him, your own smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.
When he had told you this is how he wanted to break the news to the world, you thought he had been joking. But then that morning he slipped on his wedding ring, acting oblivious to the curious glances people and reporters were giving him and answering no questions.
He walked off the stage then, hands immediately taking hold of your face and smiling into the kiss he gave you.
âYouâre so dramatic,â you mumbled against his lips.
a/n: i have a vocab app and it lets you pick topics to learn about and sex was one so obviously iâve picked thatâ but while writing this, one word i got was tantrict sex: which is a spiritual form of sexual practice that aims to connect the mind, body, and spirit and focuses on prolonged pleasure and deep connectionâ and i really tried to embody that with the smut in this one instead of it simply being lust (especially since this was supposed to be a ten year build up) but anyway, i hope i was able to convey that! i really struggle with smut even though i include it in almost all my writing
Hi I was wondering if you could do a really angsty romance Michael Jackson x pop star where they have a 10 year will they wonât they romance except sheâs like more on the artsy avant garde side has a Clara bow obsession the way Michael does for Charli Chaplin and they communicate through music +literature art in general throughout the years and watch eachother be with other people.
get your man pt. i | michael jackson
a/n: i was taking way too long to finish this bc i kept adding things so this will be two parts (part two should be uploaded in a day or so and is mostly complete)
t/w: alcoholism if you squint, diana ross jumpscare, angst, anxiety, slow burn, fluff if you squint, thriller to dangerous era, miscommunication, part i reader pov, part ii both reader and michaelâs povâ smut will be in part two just bare with me
It was 1:52 in the morning on February twenty-ninth, 1984, when you first met Michael.
He had stumbled out the door of the after party and dropped one of his Grammyâs right on your foot, a swear leaving your lips sharply as you immediately revolted back from pain. Stumbling as you did so, given you were in heels.
âIâm so sorry,â he rushed out, dropping two more of his awards as he reached out a hand to steady you. The heavily plated 24-karat gold thudded against the pavement and you winced for a whole other reason.
He was being so careless with them.
âAre you hurt?â
You ignored him, blinking down at the gramophone-shaped awards. âYouâve broken them.â
Michael paled and looked down at your foot. âI broke your toes? Oh my God, Iâm sorryââ
âNo, your Grammyâs.â
âWhat?â His brows furrowed, eyes then flicking down to where three lay on the ground, wood dented and gold scratched.
He then looked back at you, his expression subtly warping into what mightâve been a hint of disbelief and amusement. âTheyâll be okay, are you alright?â
âIâm fine.â You could feel your heartbeat in your foot, but the worst that would come of it was some bruising.
Then, quite raptly, did you realize he was still holding onto your waist.
He seemed to notice at the same time, cheeks twinging a little red and his arm fell away.
Michael scratched the back of his head with his free hand for a moment before apparently coming to a decision.
An absurd one, at that. Given in the next moment he leaned down and placed the rest of his Grammyâs on the concrete before straightening back up.
You looked at him like he had two heads.
You would kill for the opportunity to just be nominated for one. And he had just won eight that night.
And now they were on the ground, almost half of them damaged.
âI feel like Iâve seen you before.â He tilted his head to the side, appearing to take note and catalog every detail he could pick up on.
You fought the urge to cross your arms, his attention a little overwhelming now that the shock of pain was starting to subside. âEpic signed me a fewââ
He snapped his fingers. âRight. The end of the year Gala in December.â His smile grew a bit, an invisible string tugging at his lips. âI loved your performance that night.â
It was your turn to blush and your eyes danced down to the ground but you winced again at the sight of his discarded awards. âThank you.â
âWhenâs your album coming out? Iâd love to listen to it.â
Thatâs how Michael ended up in the small studio youâd been renting a few nights later. The demo for your album playing and you leaned against the doorframe biting into the side of your thumb so hard to prevent yourself from puking.
Although he was bobbing his head along and tapping his feet, you couldnât tell if he liked it. Couldnât tell if he was just being kind.
He hadnât said a word.
The last track ended and he spun slightly in the chair, finally looking at you and grinning.
One would think that had been the magical recipe for a new friendship to bloom. Maybe it had been or couldâve been. Neither of you had the time to cradle it long enough to stick.
He was off busy doing who knew what. He was Michael Jackson, you were sure the phrase down time wasnât in his vernacular.
Three months had passed and the day your album hit the shelves, your phone rang at precisely 8:45 in the morning.
You picked it up without a thought, assuming it was your manager to congratulate you.
âGood morningââ
âHey, itâs Michael.â
You stared blankly at the wall in front you, too shocked to fully register who was calling.
âHello?â His voice sounded like static on the other line.
âHi, sorry. I just wasnât expecting⌠howâd you get my number?â
âOh,â he laughed lightly and you couldnât help but smile because you could practically see the blush bleeding into his cheeks even though he was likely on the other side of the world right now. âI asked your manager, I hope thatâs alright.â
âNo, yeah. Thatâs fine⌠so, hi?â
Michael laughed again and you felt like you were back in high school. Which was absolutely ridiculous. He was just a guy. A guy you definitely didnât like. A guy you had no business liking.
âI just wanted to call and say how happy I am for you, a first record is a big deal.â
You bit your lip to stop the smile threatening to warp your features. âThank you, Michael.â
You spent nearly two hours on the phone with him. The conversation slipped into something easy but not arbitrary.
âI saw that you like old movies. I liked the Clara Bow posters you had up in your studio.â
âYou seem to know a lot about me and I know basically nothing about you,â you were sat on the couch, phone line stretched taught across your living room.
âThereâs not much to tell, the whole world seems to know everything about me already.â
âI donât think thatâs true. Tell me something no tabloid knows.â You bit your lip, cautious of stepping over a boundary you werenât sure existed.
âLike what?â
You hummed, deciding it would be better if he took that step first. âWhatâs your favorite color?â
âWell, now youâve crossed the line.â
You shared a small laugh as you twirled the phone line around your finger. âHonestly, though. Itâs important to reserve certain things about yourself. If you give too much of yourself to the world, itâll get greedy.â
Michael was quiet for a moment. âYeah.â
When your birthday rolled around, the last thing you were expecting was a sharp knock on your door at nine in the morning sharp.
The wood creaked on its hinges and you blinked at the man in front of you.
He smiled, polite and familiar at the blurry edges of your memory.
âHappy birthday,â he bowed his head. âIâm Bill Bray, Iâm Michaelâsââ
âRight! Yes, sorry. I know Iâve seen you before.â Your eyes then trailed to the massive stack of wooden crates next to him, each one with a ridiculously lavish red bow on top.
He nodded at them. âThese are from Michael.â
You blinked. Not knowing what to say or what was even in them.
âThank you?â
You tried not to blush but your face felt like it was melting as Bill carefully rolled each one inside.
Michael knew your birthday.
Not only that, he got you something. Many things, apparently.
It didnât mean anything.
Your fingers danced along one of the large bows, the velvet soft and tingling your skin as you hesitated to undo it.
It felt like you were signing a part of yourself away once you opened it.
Like unraveling the bow was you officially letting him into your life. You knew he probably didnât see it that way. Michael was an extravagant man. Everything he did had a flare to it.
It didnât mean anything.
You tugged, watching red unravel and Bill helped you lift the top off one.
Thank god he did, because your fingers slipped from the edge the moment you saw what was inside.
Later that evening, because you'd been too scared to do anything else that day, you paced in front of the phone for the thousandth time. A drag path of your anxiety matting down the carpet as you chewed on the side of your thumb. Eyes flicking back and forth between the phone and the open crates now littered around your living room.
You had to do something. Itâd be rude not to.
It didnât mean anything.
You picked up the phone, heart feeling frozen in your chest as you dialed his number. Praying youâd get sent to voicemail because you were a coward.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
âI canât do this,â you muttered, about to slam the phone back down when you heard the crackling of static followed by him saying your name.
You took a breath.
âMichael.â
âHappy birthday-â
âMichael, what the fuck?â
There was a moment of silence. âDid you not likeââ
âNo. No, I absolutely adore it but thatâs not the point.â You spun, eyeing some of the original film of Clara Bow movies he had somehow managed to find. Not to mention all the vintage movie posters, and he had bought you a first edition copy of a book you had mentioned liking once in passing.
âHow on earth did youâŚâ you were speechless. âMichael, itâs too much.â
âGift giving is a love language of mine.â
You ignored the way your heart fell through your chest.
âThank you, really. I donât know what to say.â
You made the mistake of turning, eyes catching on the newspaper you told yourself to throw away a thousand times and you hated the way your smile slipped off your face.
He always seemed to be with someone.
There were these moments in between. Small and probably insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but theyâd leave you staring up at your ceiling late into the night.
Anytime you two ended up being at the same event, he seemed to make a point to come over and say hello. His hand settling on your waist gently as heâd lean in for a hug, muttering a Itâs nice to see you, low in your ear before getting swept away.
He would sometimes call and ask questions that lead nowhere and you wondered if he just wanted someone to talk to, but why you? You couldâve sworn you were boring him to death but he seemed adamant he was interested in whatever books you were reading or if youâd watched any movies as of late.
It was nearing Christmas and like always, Epic was hosting an event. The decorations obnoxious but champagne was flowing, so you didnât mind all that much.
Your friend who youâd dragged with you clearly wasnât enjoying the festivities as much, given every time you looked over, their expression looked more like concern rather than jovial.
âWhat?â Your finally asked, not being able to ignore it anymore as you swirled the golden bubbles around in the crystal flute.
They waved a hand at you vaguely, âthis is pathetic.â
You took a sip of champagne, âyou just gestured to all of me.â
âYeah, because youâre being pathetic.â
âHarsh.â
âYouâve been sulking all night. Itâs sad.â
âI have not been sulkingââ
âEvery time you look over at him with that girl the light leaves your eyes and youâre on your fifth glass and itâsâŚâ they looked at their watch. âNot even ten.â
You rolled your eyes. âMy mood, even though itâs not sulking, has nothing to do with him. Maybe Iâm just lonely and envious.â
âOf that girl?â
âNo,â yes. âI just⌠I donât know, itâs been a while.â
Your friend clicked their tongue, picking up their own glass. âSo you want to get laid?â
âMore like I need to. God, I canât even remember the last time I properly got fucââ
âHey.â
You turned abruptly, eyes wide like a doe as you took note of Michael standing directly behind you. He was a little blurry at the edges and you had to blink a few times due to the one too many drinks youâve had.
It had to be a trick of the light or simply your inebriated vision, because for a moment you thought he looked irritated.
Your friend kicked you lightly.
Right. Words.
âMerry Christmas.â
âChrist,â your friend muttered into their glass and turned away in second hand embarrassment.
Michael smiled, though it didnât quite meet his eyes. âHaving a good night?â
You shrugged and it made your head spin a little. âItâs fine, how aboutââ
âMichael!â
You both turned to the voice coming from a few tables away and you felt your stomach churn at the sight of Diana Ross waving for him to come over.
Michaelâs eyes slated back to you, but your own gaze was already back to your champagne.
If that woman called for him, you knew heâd answer her. He always did.
You didnât bother responding when he muttered a goodbye. Didnât have to look to know where he was going.
You went home with a random man that night. You werenât entirely sure if he held a position at Epic or was just working the event. You didnât care. He was handsome and gave you the time of dayâ or night. Thatâs all you needed, just for a little while. To know exactly what someone wanted from you.
As much as you tried to throw yourself into it and scratch that itch, the hour blended into early morning and you laid in your hotel bed unsatisfied and somehow more angry at yourself.
The entire time you couldnât get Michael out of your fucking head.
You had just walked off the stage, chest tight and out of breath but you hardly felt it. Adrenaline tasting sweet on your tongue and smiling as you saw your manager give you two thumbs up.
Your boyfriend stood just to the side, his own grin supportive and arms open as you stepped into him for a hug.
Youâd won your first official award and you were sure youâd feel high for the next few days.
Then you heard your name, a lilt to his tone as you heard his steps approach over the sound of your heartbeat.
You turned in your boyfriend's hold, his arms suddenly feeling heavy around you. A life line that tethered you while also dragging you down.
Your eyes met Michaelâs, not missing the way his own flicked down to the arms around you and back up. Something unreadable flicking over his face before his lips settled into a smile.
âCongratulations.â
âThanks.â
Your tongue felt too heavy as you looked at him. He had called every now and then. You never bothered to dial his number, given his erratic schedule. It didnât help that you had that little voice nagging in the back of your head saying heâd never pick up anyway.
Not to mention the last few times youâd seen him in person, he was always with her.
Diana fucking Ross.
You had such an idealized image of her in your head. An unreachable monument you grew up looking at. And then you officially met her, feeling a little safe since Michael was there but it had upended so quickly.
She made you feel so small.
You hadnât told anyone and prayed no one saw, but you had walked quickly to the bathroom with stinging eyes and a tight throat after that interaction. It hurt just a little bit more because Michael sat there, looking down and messing with the food on his plate.
Michaelâs eyes slid past you and to your boyfriend, the low lighting of back stage playing a trick on your eyes because it looked as if his jaw clenched. âWhoâs your friend?â
Friend.
Your gaze paid rapt attention when Michael reached a hand out.
Your boyfriend shook his hand, being tugged forward a bit by the strength of Michaelâs grip and he muttered his name. A little star struck.
âSo are you two together?â
âNosy, arenât we?â Your eyes narrowed, just a bit. He was being weird but you couldnât put your finger on it.
âJust curious about my friends' love life.â
Friend.
You wanted to laugh.
âWhereâs lover boy?â Michael asked, his tone laced with white wine as he leaned against the wall. Propped up by his arm and gaze heavy as he looked down at you.
It had been two months since that odd interaction.
âYouâre drunk.â
âAnd youâre not answering.â
You rolled your jaw, bringing a cigarette to your lips and Michael crinkled his nose but didnât comment.
âThat ended.â
âDid you end it?â
âDoes that matter?â
He looked away from you, turning so his back was leaned against the wall and he took another drink of wine he had poured into a can of coke.
âWhy do you do that?â You gestured to the aluminum.
He raised a brow, confused as to what you could possibly be referring to before he realized.
Michael clicked his tongue, eyes dancing back to you and youâd never seen his eyes look so dark. Maybe it was just the lighting. Maybe it was just how close you two had become without realizing it. Your eyes flicking down to his mouth despite alarm bells.
âI have an image to uphold,â he muttered, his own gaze set low.
Before you could comment on anything, a flash of light went off. Dots dancing in your vision as you blinked after the photographer who was already scuttling away.
You were on your second rewatch of the night of Call Her Savage, the movie flickering on the screen was white noise because you couldnât focus.
Your eyes kept trailing down to the day's newspaper. The paper you always said youâd never read but always picked up from the damp grass first thing in the morning.
Michael was with some girl. A model, maybe.
You didnât care. Really, you didnât. Why would you?
You two were⌠you didnât know. Nothing.
The drawer of the coffee table could have been shouting at you with the way your eyes kept trailing down to it.
In denial of the news clipping you kept inside of it.
You didnât know why you kept it, or maybe you did. Some delusional part of your brain whispering maybe.
A picture of you two from that night. The way he had been looking at you. The way youâd been looking at him.
It didnât mean anything.
The phone then rang and your head rolled to the side, eyeing the phone with your heart in your throat because you knew who it was. You just did.
He always called when you couldnât handle it.
You picked it up on the last ring.
âHi, Michael.â
He laughed, the sound caught between amusement and a sigh. âHowâd you know it was me?â
âJust a feeling.â
He hummed and a beat of silence passed. âYour manager was gonna call you, but I thought itâd be nice to pass on the news myself.â
That made you straighten up, your brows creasing and you covered the picture of Michael and model woman with your cup of tea.
âWhat?â
âItâs nothing crazy, a short residency in Vegas to open a new amphitheater and they want me to headline. Epic thought that you being my opener would sell.â
âFor real?â You hardly realized how breathless you sounded.
You werenât sure how you felt about Las Vegas. There was a thick blanket of neon lights and wealth, a suffocating layer of glamour that tried to suffocate the soulless feeling you got the longer you walked down the strip.
The first show was tomorrow and you were nauseous with excitement and dread.
Rehearsals had been interesting and insightful, for a multitude of reasons. It had been fascinating to see Michael and work and his creative process when it came to stage productions. And you had been happy to dedicate sleepless hours to getting everything right, enjoying every exhausting minute of it.
And then she showed upâ completely scrapping any ideas you had contributed and you watched with a hollowness as everyone let her do what she wanted.
So there you were, sat at the bar of the hotel you were staying at for the next three weeks and nursing your fourth margarita of the night.
âRough night?â
You turned, blinking hazily as Bill came into focus and you blushed slightly in embarrassment. Hoping you didnât look as drunk as you felt.
âI guess,â your eyes flicked down to the two bags of KFC he was holding and you laughed. âThe luxury food service here isnât up to par?â
Bill shook his head, lips tugged back in amusement. âMichael gets picky when he isnât home.â
You hummed, eyes trailing back to your drink and you played with the straw absentmindedly.
âWould you like to join?â Bill asked after a breath of silence, looking at you expectantly as he gestured his head towards the elevator.
âOh, IâŚâ you looked at your margarita. Suddenly regretting your decision to slip into an alcoholic melancholy for the night.
âI think heâd appreciate the company.â
The elevator ride felt longer than it was, your head spinning a little and you blinked as you watched the floors tick up and up to the penthouse suite.
You eyed the KFC again and tried to hold back a laugh but a snort ended up coming out and you practically slapped your hand over your face.
Bill chuckled, shaking his head at you and not a moment later the doors dinged open directly into the living room.
Michael was sat on the couch, watching some reruns of older cartoons and his head rolled back. âBill, did you getââ he froze the moment he saw you.
You started laughing againâ stupid fucking tequilaâ and hid slightly behind Billâs shoulder to try and get your shit together.
Michaelâs lips slowly pulled into a smile as he watched you walk carefully into the hotel suite, face flushed and you knew it wasnât just from liquor.
Billâs gaze slid between the two of you, something flickering across his face for a moment as he set down the food, his own smile small and knowing. âYou two kids have fun.â He then looked pointedly at Michael. âBut not too much fun, Joker.â
âBill,â Michael said, exasperated and shyness slipping into his expression.
His long time friend held up his hands in mock surrender, smiling to himself as he left the room.
Michael watched you carefully as you sat down, amusement laced beneath his features as he took the food out and sorted it on the coffee table. âYou like KFC?â
You giggled again, not understanding why it was so fucking funny, but it was. âItâs great,â you barely managed to get out.
Michaelâs teeth sank into his bottom lip as he shook his head. âHow much have you had to drink?â
âJust two.â
He raised a brow at you.
âFour margaritas.â
His brows raised. âAnd have you eaten at all?â
âNope,â you popped the p.
He huffed and made you a plate, sliding an assortment of fast food towards you. You didnât even think you were hungry, but the moment you took your first bite it was like you were all the sudden insatiable.
A while later, you had sobered up for the most part. Feeling only slightly light headed, probably thanks to the fact Michael had made you drink two tall glasses of water.
âI donât want you feeling hung over for the big day tomorrow.â
âIâll be fine,â you waved him off. Heart aching a little bit at the way he was taking care of you. Heâd even wrapped a blanket around you and insisted you stay till you felt better. Which you did. Not to mention it wasnât like it was a long walk back, you were only staying three floors below him.
âAre you nervous?â
You looked at him, he had gotten closer throughout the night. Knee lightly brushing yours and his torso turned to face you, one arm perched on the back of the sofa with his head resting against his hand as he watched you. Because thatâs what it felt like with him. Not just looking, nothing so arbitrary. Watched. Paid attention to.
Your skin felt hot all over and your fingers played with the hem of the blanket, looking away from his dark eyes because it always felt like too much. âNervous about what?â
His knee bumped your thigh playfully. âThe show, silly. What else?â
You make me nervous, you thought.
âIn a way.â You landed on instead. âI just feel like people have this massive expectation of me since Iâll be your opener and what if I donât live up to it?â
âDonât say that, youâre a wonderful performer.â
âYeah, but Iâm not you.â
âAnd I donât want you to be, thatâs why I asked Epic if you could be my opener.â
Your eyes met his, watching the realization at his confession hit him slowly.
You caught it. So did he. You asked anyway.
âI thought you said Epic wanted me to be your opener.â
Michael bit the inside of his cheek, âI did say that.â
You felt your heartbeat in your throat. Light headed for a whole new list of reasons and you two were so close. Closer than you had probably ever been to him aside from the brief hugs heâd given you in greetings.
He was so beautiful. Every part of him made up the architecture of something angelic. The desire to just sit and look at him all day akin to the forces of Narcissus and that silver pool of water, beckoning you to stay forever even if it ended up killing you.
You had no idea when your eyes drifted to his mouth, but your gaze was suddenly there and he was close and you could smell his cologne. Intoxicating and more inebriating than any form of alcohol.
Michaelâs nose gently touched yours and then his lips were dusting lightly against your own, soft andâ
âHey Joker, have you seen the remote for this room? I canât find it?â Bill called from down the hall and you two broke apart like a wishbone.
Your mouth felt dry all the sudden and you refused to look at him as you stood up. God, you were so stupid.
âI should go.â
âWaitââ
âI donât mean to keep you up,â you grabbed your purse, ignoring him as he said your name and walked to the elevator.
You sensed more so than heard his footsteps follow after you, his hand lightly taking hold of your arm to stop you and he laughed lightly, though it sounded more nervous.
âYou donât have to go, we canâŚâ he trailed off, eyes searching yours and stumbling to find the right words.
He wouldnât.
Because there were none. You knew this would never work even though you desperately wished it could.
You smiled, but it didnât quite reach your eyes. âWe can what?â
The phone rang but you both ignored it.
âWeââ
âMichael, Diana is calling you.â Bill said.
Your smile got a little tighter. âGoodnight.â
The first few shows went well. Maybe even great, but you wanted to reel in your ego before it completely bit you in the ass.
The moment you stepped on stage and the lights blinded you, you felt your anxieties slip away for the time being. Letting the music move you and your worry about the rest of your life drift off in the stage lights. Nearly crying the first night because the crowd sang your lyrics back to you and having a sudden, violent realization that maybe you finally made it. Even though you were just the opening actâ you made it.
Tired and panting, youâd wave goodbye. Smile wide and yelling your gratitude and pretending like you hadnât seen Michael watching you from the other side of the stage.
Youâd be cordial. You always were and youâd always be grateful. Joining him at the end of the night, hand in his as you bowed a goodnight along with the band.
Then your fingers would slip from his easily, your smile genuine but misplaced as you didnât allow yourself to look at him before walking away and signing off for the night.
Head spinning with adrenaline and chasing the high so you could outrun the heartache that was creeping up on you.
Bringing a random man to your hotel room because none of your other distractions were working and completely oblivious that Michael had been making his way down the hall to come see you, only to stop short when he saw said man youâd selected for the night to be leaving your room with his shirt undone and shoes in his handâ catching a brief glimpse of you in only a t-shirt and a smile before shutting the door.
You hardly ever saw him after shows, running off to a bar with your tail between your legs because you were a coward. And the one time you had stopped and considered staying, you heard Diana in his dressing room. The arguing hushed but strained. They seemed to be arguing a lot lately.
You tried not to find joy in that but failed miserably.
A few more men came and went and you only ended up sleeping with one of them.
It was pathetic. Not that you felt ashamed by any means, but your reasons behind searching for comfort in strangers was something you were trying extremely hard to ignore.
And you had been doing a marvelous job, until you ended up bumping into Michael barely a minute after one of your mystery men left.
His hands caught your arms, steadying you and you were so surprised to see him all you did was stare. Completely forgetting the fact you were in a pair of embarrassing pajamas with cartoons printed all over your shorts as you made your way to get more ice.
Your cheeks felt like they were going to melt off your face when you noticed his eyes flicked down to them briefly but your feelings quickly morphed into confusion because the sight of your pajamas seemed to annoy him.
Genuine annoyance. Maybe even aggravation. His brows furrowed and his lips tugging down slightly at the sides and you just barely heard the scoff that was hidden beneath the exhale he let out.
âMichael, what are youââ
âNew boyfriend?â
You blinked at him, your confusion doubling. âWhat?â
His hands finally fell from your arms and he shoved them in his pockets. âThe guy I saw leaving.â
Fuck.
âOh, heâs notââ
âSorry, I just assumed because I kept seeing this guy, wait no,â his laugh was a little bitter. âGuys, coming and going.â
You wouldâve flinched back from him if you hadnât been so taken off guard. Instead you stood there, frozen and staring at him as if he had just slapped you.
You saw the moment it clicked for him how he sounded, regret slowly inching its way onto his face and he took a step forward, looking pained as you took a step back.
âThatâs not what I meant.â
âMichael.â
âIâm sorry, I was just⌠itâs to hard to see all these guys when we almostââ
You shook your head. âStop it.â
âThe other night, I shouldâve done something.â
âMichael, youâre being mean.â
He sighed, eyes looking down at his shoes. âI shouldâve come down to talk to you afterââ
âAfter Diana called you?â The tone with which you said it didnât quite sound like you.
Foreign. Sharp at the edges and made to sting.
Michael said nothing and you spared him one last glance. Hoping like the lovesick idiot that you were that he would do something.
He watched you silently as you walked back to your room and shut the door.
The small section behind the stage that lead to the dressing rooms smelled like someone elseâs perfume and cigarette smoke and that kind of tension you often found before the slam of a door.
You heard them before you saw anything, heard her, specifically, because Diana Ross had a voice that carried like sheâd trained it to, like projection was a reflex. You had been back from the bar for maybe four minutes, still warm from two whiskey sours and the looseness that came with a good show, and youâd almost walked straight into the middle of it.
You stopped just outside. Lit a cigarette you didnât strictly need. Listened.
ââyou donât think about how this looks, Michael, you never think about how anything looksââ
âIâm not asking you to manage my imageââ
âSomeone has toââ
You exhaled slowly. Looked up at the Nevada sky through a window you had cracked open. Youâd read somewhere that Clara Bow hated Hollywood nights, too many stars, too much competition. You had understood that instantly.
The door swung open.
Diana walked out into the hall, chin up, shoulders back. She swept past without looking.
You made the noise involuntarily, a barely audible huff.
Diana stopped.
Turned.
âExcuse me?â
You took a long pull of your cigarette. âNothing.â
âNoâ no, you said something.â Dianaâs eyes moved over you with that slow calibrated assessment of someone whoâd spent thirty years deciding who was worth her attention and who wasnât. âYouâre the opening act.â
âI am.â
âThen you might remember your place.â
You laughed, short, disbelieving. âMy place?â
âThis isnât your business. Whatever you think you heardââ
âI heard plenty.â You dropped the cigarette into an ashtray. âAnd Iâve heard plenty before tonight too, so.â
Dianaâs chin lifted. âI beg your pardon?â
"You don't have to beg for anything, apparently. That's kind of the problem." The whiskey was warm in your chest and you knew, distantly, that you should stop, that the smart thing was to go to your room and let this woman walk away, but Diana was still looking at you like you were furniture, like you were a minor inconvenience to step around, and something in you justâ "You walked out of there like he owes you something. Like you didn't justâ" You gestured vaguely around you. "You know what, forget it."
âGladly.â
âNoâ no, actually, donât.â Your voice was getting louder and you could hear it happening, couldnât quite stop it. âWho do you think you are? Seriously. Who do you think you are to him?"
Diana looked at you for a long moment. Then, "More than you'll ever be."
The air went out of the night.
You felt it land. Felt the specific, surgical accuracy of it, the way it was aimed not just at the question but at everything underneath the question, everything you had never said out loud to anyone.
"That'sâ" Your voice cracked slightly. You hated that. "That's notâ"
"Isn't it?" Diana said, almost gently, which was somehow worse. "Sweetheart. I've watched girls like you orbit him for years. You're not special. You're just next."
"Don't." You took a step forward. "Don't do that. Don't stand there and act like you know anything aboutâ"
âI know everything about it.â Dianaâs voice dropped, and for a moment something moved across her face, maybe pity, rage? Then it was gone. âGo back to the hotel. Go to sleep. This doesnât concern you.â
She turned to leave.
And before you knew it, your hand moved.
You caught a fistful of Dianaâs hair, not frenzied but definitely brutal. It felt good. You pulled her back just enough that Diana went very, very still.
âYou. Youâre a cunt,â You said, quieter now, the mess gone out of your voice entirely. Just the thing itself, finally. âAnd everyone around you is too afraid to say it. Iâm not.â
A beat. Two.
You let go with a shove and she stumbled into the wall.
Your hands werenât shaking, you noticed with surprise.
Diana stared at you, something moved across her face. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then she walked away, heels clicking on the tile, not once looking back.
You stood there for a moment.
The door behind you opened again, quietly this time.
You didnât turn around. You knew his footsteps by now, you knew his silences which was worse.
âHow much of that did you hear?â You asked.
âEnough,â Michael said.
You nodded. Lit another cigarette.
âYou didnât have to do that,â he said. Not a reprimand.
âI know.â You finally looked at him. He was still in his show clothes, the jacket open now, and he looked exhausted, the kind of tired he never let audiences see. âYou should break up with her.â
âWeâre notââ He sighed, playing with his one glove. âItâs complicated.â
âItâs something. Whatever it is, you should end it. We can throw a party when you do.â
Michael laughed, quiet and layered beneath a sigh. âBill will host it.â
You snorted, a part in your chest tight because you knew he wouldnât.
And you were right, it took another year for him to finally call it quits.
You found out from your boyfriend. Not from Michael. Not from anyone who might have thought to warn you. From your new⌠thing, on his couch, in his apartment, with the television on and your notebook and a pen between your teeth because youâd been chasing the same lyric for three days and it kept sliding away from you.
âDid you see MJ with that new singer? Like officially?â
You looked up.
Your boyfriendâs eyes already back on the television, reaching for his beer unbothered, heâd said it the way youâd say âitâs rainingâ or âweâre out of milkâ.
âYeah?â you said.
âSeems like it, now that Diana got married I guess heâs finally looking elsewhere.â
You looked back down at your notebook. The half-lyric sat there, waiting.
You were right, you thought, at no one. At him. At the Nevada night a year ago, at the stained linoleum and the diminishing light in his eyes as heâd said âItâs complicated.â
You picked up the pen.
Wrote, without thinking, without trying.
You stared at it.
Your boyfriend laughed at something on TV.
You drew a small circle around the line, so you wouldn't lose it. Then you turned the page and kept going.
You didnât really hear from him anymore. Besides another ridiculously expense gift on your birthday. Now you knew why.
You had broken up with your boyfriend. Telling yourself there was no other reason for it despite the obvious of just not being in love.
Holing yourself up in your studio as you worked on demos, doing your best to ignore the posters on your walls that felt like they were staring at you. Beckoning you to remember who had gotten them for you in the first place.
There seemed to be echoes of him everywhere.
You tried not to look at the news but your eyes would wander anyway, seeing each morning as the months went by that he was still with that woman. That singer, your ex had said. So casually and not noticing the way the fissure lines that made up your composure started to crack.
It was New Yearâs eve, the skyline of New York City twinkling below and the roar of Times Square a few blocks down.
You held your champagne flute like a lifeline, trying to find meaning in the golden bubbles and doing your best to not look at the man across the room. The man who always had everyoneâs attention and awe. You tried even harder not to look at the woman he was with.
But as the night went on, it was like your soul had grown restless and desperate. Just one look.
The last thought Orpheus had before sealing the rest of his life way to despair and heartbreak.
You laughed slightly to yourself, taking a sip of champagne. You were so fucking dramatic.
To keep the beast of temptation at bay, you weaved your way through the crowd and towards the balcony. Not bothering to grab your coat and quite frankly welcoming the bitter cold on your exposed arms. Your black cocktail dress doing absolutely nothing for comfort, but you found the chill to be a breath of fresh air.
You just needed an out. At least for a little while. Feeling like a fool for letting yourself get to this point when you knew better.
You dug in your clutch for a cigarette, placing the rolled nicotine beneath your teeth and fingers searching fruitlessly for the lighter you were beginning to realize you forgot.
âHere.â
You barely had time to register it was him before the flick of a lighter met your ears and warm light coated your face, illuminating his dark eyes as he lit your cigarette.
You didnât let yourself stare at him. Instead your eyes slid back to the city and the commotion beneath.
âWhy do you have that, you donât smoke.â
âYou do.â
You did your best to ignore the shaking in your hand as you pulled the tobacco from your lips, telling yourself it was the cold.
Despite the frenetic energy around you, the rest was silence. A sort of blanket swathed around you two as Michael rested his elbows on the railing, eyes intent on the city.
âYou look happy,â you said eventually.
He shut his eyes briefly, the only hint at his unsteady breath was the falter in the fog that left his mouth and plumed in the air.
âI am happy for you, Michael. You deserveââ
âDonât.â
You glanced at him for only a moment, not being able to help it.
He was already looking at you. His expression unreadable and the rawness to it was overwhelming.
Michaelâs voice was quiet but not a whisper, the words breaking apart in a staccato rhythm. âPlease donât.â
The cigarette wilted to the butt and you dropped it to the ground, pressing it into the cement with the toe of your stilettos.
You left him there, feeling colder with each step because you knew a door was closing. He was with someone. He would be going on tour for his new album for well over a year. And you knew youâd fade into the background. A woman he knew. Worked with. A shadow in the background of a story he might tell. Not even friends.
That was fine.
Youâd get on with it just like everyone else who fell out of his orbit.
a/n: i fear part two will also be long but i swear thereâs a happy ending â im also very tired but tried to proof read this so if thereâs still typos kill me
ynopsis: To the world, he was the King of Pop, but to her, he was simply Michael. After almost a year of mourning her late husband in the shadows, retired Queen of Pop Regina Venus is ready to unveil the truth and introduce the world to the Michael Jackson that they never knew. Unafraid to reveal the good, the bad, and the ugly, Regina spills everything in an interview where she details the intimate and chaotic life that her and Michael shared for 33 years before his untimely demise.
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!OC
Tags: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, Romance, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Angst and Romance, Porn With Plot, True Love, Betrayal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fame, Moderate to Heavy Angst, Tragic Romance
Word Count: 3,803
Taglist (DM or comment to be added): @a-dal7490 @scarletwitchwhore @kneelarmhstrung @oreo2sblog @skiicoreee @tojiswifeforlife @wildpandorasky
A/N: HIIIIII I DIDN'T DIE CHAPTER 8 IS HERE WOOOOO!!!!!!!
I am so sorry for making you guys wait a week and a half for an update đ. The week that I posted chapter 7, I had my dance recital a few days later and my studio does 3 days of recital so I didn't have any time to write whatsoever on those 3 days, and because I didn't write for 3 days straight, that threw me off my mojo by A LOT so it was rlly difficult to get back into the flow of writing again once recital weekend was over. Not to mention this chapter was so ridiculously hard to write for some reason??? I have no idea why since it's supposed to be a filler chapter but the words just did not wanna come to me. Regardless, I powered through and chapter 8 is finally here. Chapter 9 I haven't even begun writing yet, but I'm gonna do my very best to get that one out asap. Big things are gonna happen in that chapter...đ
AO3 Link // Previous Chapters
April 2010
Regina had hoped and prayed all throughout her life that the feelings of loathing and abhorrence she had for her mother would eventually dwindle down and she would learn to love her the way everyone else loved their mothers, and there were times where she came close to achieving that, until Geraldine found yet another way to betray her and restart the clock. Forging her signature and legally binding her was one of the many things she did that Regina never forgave her for, even to this day. Not that she ever apologized for it though. In fact, now that Regina thought about it, she couldn't recall one single instance in her entire life of hearing her mother say the words "I'm sorry." She couldn't even fathom what those words would sound like in her voice.
Ironically, while the interviewer decided to comment on Michael going behind Regina's back before asking the previous question, he made no comment whatsoever on her mother doing the exact same thing before asking the next question. "And what was it like having her as a manager?"
Regina scoffed. "It was like being stuck on a treadmill with no off-button. She really worked me to the bone. Press releases, radio interviews, commercials, photo shoots, singing and dancing rehearsals. Mind you, I didn't even do a tour for Red Cherry Perfume, she just made me do those rehearsals just because. She didn't even allow me a break until I collapsed one rehearsal and was hospitalized for dehydration. Even still, I was back at the studio 2 days later. I didn't have one day off with her as my manager, especially when that album was released."
"I see, and are there any fond memories that you have of when Red Cherry Perfume was newly released or was it all tainted by your mother?"
Regina thought once more. "I do have one particularly fond memory of that time. Predictably enough, it's a memory that didn't involve my mother. It was when I was asked to perform on Top of the Pops in London. The album had garnered significantly greater success in the UK than it had in America. Most of the sales in 1977 derived from England alone and they were very eager to have me there. It was my first time overseas. I was so excited to travel somewhere new and experience a different culture, and it was even better 'cause Michael was there too along with his brothers for a small European tour that they were doing. Actually, they performed on the same Top of the Pops episode as me. Though granted, my song was higher on the charts than theirs was," Regina stated with a tongue-in-cheek conceited grin.
May 1977
Regina knew that she had landed in the UK when the pilot announced it over the intercom at the end of the flight. She knew it when she went through passport control and all the workers had that amusing British accent that she never thought she'd actually get to hear in real life. She knew it when she strolled through the terminal past baggage claim and her eyes veered themselves to the colossal sign that hung from the ceiling depicting a Union Jack flag billowing in the wind with a message plastered across the center that read "Welcome To The United Kingdom." But it was only when she piled into a limousine with all of the Jackson brothers and cruised through the streets of London, gawking at all the architecture, landmarks, street fashion, and everyday culture so new and foreign to her that the reality settled in. She hadn't just landed in the UK, she was in the UK.
The drive from Heathrow airport to The Ritz was a rather long one. Despite the fact that the hotel was only 16 miles away, it was estimated to be a 45 minute drive, and with weekend traffic added to the equation, the journey was elongated to more than an hour total.
Regina and Michael had one bench in the limo all to themselves as Jackie, Tito, Marlon, and Randy sat opposite of them rambling to each other in what sounded like alien language to Regina's fatigued ears. The poor thing hadn't slept a wink on the 10 hour flight and was starting to feel the consequences as a result. As the limo came to a standstill just a few hundred yards short of West Kensington, one street away from the Hammersmith Odeon where The Jacksons would be performing in a few days, Regina's neck and head commenced in a duel of strength, and her head was losing as it repeatedly bobbed down, pleading for a minute of rest before startling her and inciting her to lift it back up and repeat.
Michael, who was reading the copy of A Farewell to Arms that he brought with him on the plane, could see Regina nodding off every two seconds from the corner of his eye. He lightly poked her shoulder and she looked up at him through the tiny slits that her eyelids allowed as they felt like they were being pulled down by anchors.
"Tired?" he asked, visibly amused.
Regina lazily nodded her head.
"Come here." Michael slithered his hand to the back of her head and pulled it in to rest on his shoulder. Regina obliged without second thought and adjusted her position, wrapping an arm behind Michael's back for support. She finally allowed her eyelids to cave in, and she could swear she heard a voice that sounded like Randy going "Ooooooooo" followed by the sound of a book being thrown at someone, but perhaps she was just hallucinating from lack of sleep. The next time she opened her eyes, the limo was parked in front of The Ritz.
If she hadn't woken up when Michael nudged her upon arrival, she certainly woke up when she stepped out of the limo and the first thing she saw were blinding white flashes harassing her view. She hadn't even noticed the plethora of paparazzi and journalists and fans crowding around the entrance being barricaded by policemen wearing helmets that looked like bowler hats that had been stretched upwards until her ears finally turned on and consumed the cheering noises emitting from the flock.
While journalists desperately shoved thin silver microphones in their faces, Michael and his brothers waved at the adoring crowd and Regina copied them, feeling like a stereotypical movie celebrity in doing so. As they reached closer to the front door, she looked back and caught a glimpse of some of the signs that the fans were holding.
'Welcome to the UK Regina'
'Michael and Regina are the best'
'Regina is the true Queen of England'
Enchanted by all the love that London had for her when she had only been in the city for 2 hours max thus far, Regina blew a kiss to the crowd that the paparazzi made sure to capture and they roared in elation at their favorite singer acknowledging their existence before she disappeared behind the doors of The Ritz.
After feasting on a luxurious dinner of lamb, duck, and roast sirloin, everyone at the table enjoyed chocolate soufflĂŠ for dessert minus Regina and Michael, who both disliked chocolate and chose to share a fruit platter instead, though they nearly started a food fight arguing over who would get the last bundle of grapes. The argument didn't last long however as Michael and Regina shortly ended up rejoicing over their shared interest in grapes being their favorite fruit.
Just as drowsiness had washed over Regina as soon as she stepped foot in the airport, it washed over Michael and his brothers as soon as the last remnants of soufflĂŠ were licked from their spoons. Everyone headed up to their rooms to retire for the night, and when they awoke at dawn, it felt as though time had been miraculously sped up by someone adjusting the knob at the back of the universe's imaginary clock because before Regina knew it, she was sitting in a makeup chair backstage for the filming of Top of the Pops getting her eyeshadow touched up while covertly rubbing her arms to mitigate the profound itchiness that her anxiety hives were causing her.
Michael and his brothers were currently on set performing "Show You The Way To Go" and Regina watched them through the television hanging from the ceiling. She studied Michael's effortless confidence, trying to take as many mental notes as she could before it was her turn to go on in 10 minutes.
She examined herself in the mirror one last time as the boys were finishing up the song. The ensemble that her mother had sent for her to wear was very unique, to say the least. Florals decorated her from head to toe, quite literally, as real flowers of all different types were pinned all throughout her hair, giving the illusion that they were blooming from her scalp, matching favorably with the long and flowy chiffon dress she had on with mesh bishop sleeves and cork wedges she could hardly walk in whose straps matched the pattern of the dress. Sprigs of baby's breath with forget-me-nots tucked in like charms were tied around her neck and wrapped around the dress like a vine. Regina had gotten so distracted staring at her flashy, unrecognizable self in the mirror that she hadn't noticed that the boys' performance had ended nor did she notice Michael creeping up behind her until he seized her shoulders and yelled "Boo!"
"Aah!" Regina yelped as she whipped her head to look behind her. "Dammit, Michael, you can't be scaring people like that," she said, adding a giggle she couldn't suppress at the end of her statement.
Michael ignored her, his eyes gleaming in awe at her avant garde look. "Oh man, you look real good, like Mother Nature."
Regina rocked herself side to side like a child, bashfully thanking Michael for the compliment.
"How were we out there?"
"Perfect as usual," Regina responded, pacing around the room and feverishly massaging her arms once she remembered that there were now only two songs left until her turn. "I don't know if you'll be able to say the same for me when I go out there, though."
"Why is that?"
"Because I'm scared out of my wits," Regina admitted, shamelessly. "This is my first performance without you by my side. How am I gonna do it? Your presence is what keeps me calm when I'm on stage, I-I'm gonna screw everything up, I'm gonna forget the lyrics, I'm gonna trip on these ridiculously tall shoes, I'm gonnaâ"
"Gigi, you don't have anything to worry about," Michael assured her, laughing at the absurdity of her anxious concern. "You've been practicing day and night for weeks on end, you're gonna be perfect out there."
"You really think so?"
"I know so."
Regina wasn't all that convinced. But then again, the chances of everything turning out okay whenever Michael said they would had a 100% success rate thus far, and Regina figured this was another instance where she could roll the dice and land a winning number without worry.
Soon after the band that had just been playing came backstage at the end of their performance, an anxious looking techie with a clipboard came up to Regina and Michael. "Regina Dumont?" she said, eyeing her apparel with a raised brow.
"Yes?" Regina responded.
"Time to get into position. We've got one more song and then you're up."
Disregarding the terrifying millisecond of her throat closing when the techie said that, Regina nervously bid Michael a farewell before following the techie to the set, wobbling each step of the way.
When she disappeared from his sight, Michael looked around, scratching his chin, trying to conjure up any possible way that he could be there right beside Regina and alleviate her stress. He wanted to guarantee that she gave a calm and flawless performance lest her mother give her a beating when she came back home to the states for not being better than perfect in front of the camera. Michael of all people knew that as a performer with a parent/manager who showed you no mercy, there was nothing that made your heart sink to your stomach faster than knowing that you screwed up during a performance and waiting for the consequences afterward.
Just as the song before Regina's reached it's halfway point, Michael spotted an unsupervised costume closet in the hallway and a witty smirk tugged at his lips.
Meanwhile on set, Regina paced around on the microscopic platform, slapping her arms which had upgraded from an itching sensation to a burning one when she saw for herself just how close in proximity the audience was to the stage. Something that the cameras didn't seem to catch accurately, it was absurd how crowded it was. If Regina extended her arm out fully, she'd certainly poke out the eye of the bizarre looking man directly in front of her who had a handlebar mustache, plastic looking buck teeth, and comically large sunglasses. Though it was funny, the man's nose and afro looked eerily similar to Michael's
Wait a minute.
"Michael?" Regina said, suspiciously, crouching down to his level.
"Who's Michael?" he snapped back in a hushed whisper, mimicking an over exaggerated London accent. "My name is Archibald Snugglebottom."
Regina rolled her eyes, chuckling in disbelief. "Michael, did you hit your head backstage or something? Why are you in that getup?"
"You said you were nervous about performing without me by your side, so I found a way to be by your side."
Regina's furrowed expression softened greatly. It was almost a talent how clever Michael was at coming up with such unorthodox ways to help her out without her even having to ask. If asked for proof that angels existed, Michael was the only evidence Regina would need to deem anyone who thought otherwise wrong. There was no one she had ever met who was as sweet and selfless as him. Still, calling out his wacky methods was second nature to her. "You're gonna get in trouble, take that off."
"Places, everyone!" a techie called out, reminding Regina that the finale of the song before her was rapidly approaching, and before she even had time to react, the host was announcing her next as Michael resumed his false identity front and center in the crowd.
"That was 'Silly Love Songs' by Paul McCartney and Wings and indeed some love songs can be quite silly but I can assure you there's nothing silly about this next song we've got for you right here on Top of the Pops. Coming in at #2 on the charts, here is the lovely miss Regina Dumont with 'I'll Bloom (Oh So Nice).'"
The lights changed colors as the song began to play, the intro of symphonic strings decorated by funky bass and groovy synthesizers just barely audible over the audience's roaring applause. As soon as the camera panned in on Regina, any visible signs of anxiety flew out the window as her body swayed naturally to the rhythm. The first verse approached, and Regina brought the microphone up to her glossy lips while gazing straight at the camera with bedroom eyes and an animated smile.
"Don't need no greenhouse baby, don't need no grass,
Just give me your sunkissed touch, I'll make it last,
Heavy winters are a thing of the past,
Rain down your love on me babe, rain it down on me fast"
Smooth and velvety, her vocals garnished the song with no trouble at all and the audience below her turned into dancing machines as the pre-chorus drew near, particularly Archibald Snugglebottom who was out-dancing everyone around him, unsurprisingly.
"Oooh, my body's pulsing, petals bursting at the seams,
Oooh, roots are growing, just one touch is all I need"
Regina finally peeled her eyes away from the camera to avert them over to Michael. Struggling to contain her laughter seeing him in that silly getup, she immediately glanced back at the camera, disguising her unrestrained giggles as part of the performance. Soon, the part that always made everyone turn up the volume when they listened to the song on the radio was fast approaching, the lyrics of the chorus flowing out of her in that harmonious voice that sounded like no one else.
"I'll be your rose if red's your color,
I'll be your daisy, won't think twice,
You'll be my sun, my soil, and water,
With you, I'll bloom oh so nice,
I'll be your poppy, California,
I'll be your tulip, pink, blue, white,
Just treat me right, treat me tender,
With you, I'll bloom oh so nice"
Disco fever was affecting everyone on set now. Even the host couldn't control his feet as Regina lit up the stage and made it her own.
"Oh so nice, (oh so nice)
Oh so nice, (oh so nice),
With all these flowers in the garden and I'm under your spell,
Oh so nice, (oh so nice)
Oh so nice, (oh so nice),
With all these flowers in the garden, babe I'm your kiss and tell"
Regina had gotten so into the zone that her brain had turned off for the rest of the song, only working to pump out the rest of the catchy lyrics from her mouth and make sure no spot on the stage was left untouched by her feet as she danced like her life depended on it. When the song concluded to everyone's dismay, she was rewarded with the loudest applause of any song performed on the episode, eclipsing Michael and his brothers by a landslide.
When she made it backstage, she nearly collapsed once all the adrenaline wore off and all that dancing and moving around she did caught up to her. Heavy breaths were all she could muster as she leaned against the wall and placed her fingers on her throat to check her pulse. What a rush the performance was. And like Michael promised, she didn't mess up once, allowing her to cross off the "Performing without Michael" bullet on her list of greatest fears. Although Michael was in fact there, he wasn't on stage with her, and his outlandish disguise made him look convincingly enough like a different person when he and everybody else were moving around, so she figured it still counted.
Michael came rushing in soon thereafter, ripping the accessories of his disguise off one by one until Archibald Snugglebottom ceased to exist. He engulfed Regina in a proud hug, his nose inhaling the aromatic fumes of the white lily tucked into her hair.
"That was fantastic, Gigi, that was your best performance yet! What did I tell you? You had nothing to worry about, I knew you were gonna be perfect out there."
"I guess you were right," Regina sputtered out, slowly but surely regaining her breath. "So now that that's over, what's on the agenda?"
Michael checked his watch. "We gotta get back to the hotel to get ready for the photo shoot with my brothers. C'mon, let's get you back in your normal clothes."
Michael and Regina rushed to disassemble her outfit and make it to the limo waiting at the back entrance of the studio to take them back to The Ritz. After a drive that was once again elongated, only this time instead of traffic being the root issue it was actually the swarm of fans that surrounded the car desperate to catch a glimpse of Michael and Regina, they made it back just in time to start getting ready for the photo shoot.
As Regina punched the keycard into the door of her room to unlock it, she noticed Michael hovering behind her with a giddy smirk on his face instead of going into his room to get ready. Skeptical but still too worn out from the performance to question him, she swung the door open, and she stood stark frozen at what she saw.
Bundles of flower arrangements packed the room from wall to wall. There were daisies littering the floor like a flower field, lilac wisterias hanging from the windows, large vases filled with blush pink carnations on each night stand, sunflower bouquets adorning the bureau and vanity, newly bloomed peonies decorating the bed, and on the chair in the corner sat a massive teddy bear holding a bouquet of vibrant red roses with a card attached.
"Michael, what is all this?" Regina asked, her mouth hanging wide open as she gaped at the floral wonderland encircling her.
"Just a little present to congratulate you on performing on Top of the Pops," he said matter-of-factly, as if buying out entire florist shops for the people he loved was something he did on a daily basis.
Regina stumbled over the daisies, being extra careful not to step on and damage any of them as she sauntered over to the teddy bear to read the card. In Michael's alluring handwriting, the message read:
Like a beautiful flower on the first day of spring, you too have bloomed oh so nice.
- MJ
Regina picked up a bundle of roses to bring to her nose, pretending as though she was smelling them when in reality she was trying to hide the smitten grin crawling onto her lips and the heat rising to her cheeks, not wanting to give Michael the satisfaction of seeing her so enamored with his kind, albeit borderline romantic gesture.
"Thank you, Michael," she said softly. "And for future reference, my favorite flowers are hydrangeas."
Michael wrote down that tidbit of information in his head before retreating back to his room to get dressed for the photo shoot. Their next day in London would be action-packed with promotion for the album as well as the boys' tour. When they all came back to the hotel in the evening and went up to their rooms to dress for dinner, Regina opened her door to be caught in another storm of flowers, this time hydrangeas of all different colors. White, blue, pink, purple, green, and even red, which Regina did not know was a color of hydrangea that even existed, embellished her room.
Same as yesterday, Regina plucked the card from the teddy bear holding a bouquet of baby pink and baby blue hydrangeas and read Michael's note.
I didn't know what color of hydrangeas you liked, so I got you the whole rainbow. I hope they bring as much color to your life as you do to mine.
- MJ
When she finished reading the message, she rested the card on her chest right where her heart was, charmed beyond words. After standing there idly for a few minutes, basking in such a gracious gift, Regina took the card and placed it into the pocket of her suitcase, tucked away with the other card that Michael had written yesterday. She had only been in London for 3 days and she already had two souvenirs that she would treasure for the rest of her life.
A/N: Please excuse my poor attempt at writing original song lyrics, things like poems and songs are my absolute kryptonite when it comes to writing, anything that's not in the format of a novel/story I can't write to save my life đ
Authors Note: Wasnât planning on continuing this series but seeing some people wanting more I had to give the people what they wanted. I have some ideas but ofc if you have any feel free to share them. Chapter edited by the amazing @discojupiters with that said hope you guys like this.
Thunder could be heard striking throughout the sky, lurking ravens screeching into the night, harsh winds disrupting anything laying on the earth. You lay asleep, blissfully unaware of it all in your new surroundings, the sound of trees hitting against the stone walls of the huge castle. There was something different about you now and the whole world could feel it. It was as if an earthquake had erupted, a shift in the centrosphere. The world was taking account of the new reality, the new you, before you even awoke.
Your eyes begin to shift harshly under your lids. Lips quivering, hands vibrating, then stillness. Complete stillness as if your body was stretching and releasing tension. Then your eyes finally open, looking at the new surroundings. The tall stone walls, the dark lighting from the thick curtains shadowing the room and only lit by candles. Candles that were everywhere. Some about to fizz out and others looking as if they were just freshly lit. You were surrounded by them. Two old red chairs were placed not far from you. The room, though large, was mostly empty. Looking down, you see you're laid on a huge bed. Silk sheets soft against your skin, fabric hung above like a canopy creating a false sense of comfort. Pillows scattered around you as if pushed around then forgotten.
You see you've been dolled up in a thin white babydoll dress, shorter than anything you would have previously chosen for yourself. Noting it barely hitting your knees, only able to cover your butt when you lay down. All of it was so much to take in.Â
There was this slow ache in your head, it grew until you felt as if you were having a migraine. The painâŚit was like needles prodding your brain. You ears rung, then suddenly you black out.Â
It felt as if hours had passed as you wake up again, rising in the bed. It all comes rushing back to you. The people at the bar, the church, red lights and frantic bodies dancing, pointy teeth, eyes red as blood, then pain. Excruciating pain flooding throughout your entire body. The voices fading in and out. The pain blooming across your skin from an unknown source.Â
The siblings, the ones who started this nightmare in the first place. Michael and Janet. Now looking around in this strange room, they're nowhere to be found. You're all alone. At least for nowâŚ
Getting up from the bed, you wobble in place. Your legs clearly haven't been in use for some time now. Slowly trying to figure out your next move, you see a mirror near a nightstand close to the window, your footsteps being the only eerie sound echoing back to you. The mirror was beautiful, gold swirls of leaves and vines wrapped the frame, and your reflection stared at you.
It wasn't you looking back, well not the old you. Your hair was longer than before, skin free from blemishes. The dress flowed against you as you realized not only has the length of your hair changed but the color. Stark white hair graced your back, your eyes no longer their usual color but red. Red just like the monsters who ruined you. Shaky hands go to caress your cheeks, the shock of what you were seeing leaving you speechless. Mouth open, you see them, the pointy canines against your plush lips.
It was as if something came over you and you couldn't help but scream. Scared of what you've become. Terrified of the abomination of a being looking in the mirror so unlike yourself.
The volume of your scream shattered the glass of the mirror, destroying the windows and allowing a gust of wind to come in. The unwavering sadness of not recognizing yourself has your body falling to the floor. Long nails scratch the floor, white hair spilling around you. Tears drip down your face.
"No,no, no, noooo," you subconsciously mumble to yourself.
Here you were in a whole new place, all alone, unrecognizable.
Peeking up from your hair covering your vision, you see a puddle starting to form in front of you. Looking back in the mirror, those tears weren't what they were supposed to be. Clear and thin is what should be running down your face. Not thick drops of blood sprouting from your eyes. It just keeps getting worse.Â
"Why me? What have I done to deserve this?" you whisper to yourself in disbelief.
You couldn't understand why all this was happening to you. Why such fictional things were coming true right before you. You weren't human anymore, that was clear. You were a vampire.
"I see you have awaken."
Turning around sharply, you see him. Michael looking down at youâŚalmost with pity.
"I heard you scream, you still have quite the lungs on you."Â
The audacity to see him laugh and smile in your face, making fun of you after what he's done to you. You'll never be the same and it's all their fault.
"How could youâŚ"
Your glare could almost pierce his unbeating heart with how much anger was thrown at him.
"How could I turn you? Darling girl, it was made to be, I knew as soon as I saw you that there was something that must been done. And now it's doneâŚyou've been changed for the better. That was my purpose, to enlighten you on what could be your full potential in this world. And for us to be together throughout it all."
'What a load of bullshit' you thought, without even realizing your old meek personality was just one of the things you left behind during your transformation.Â
"Is that what this is⌠Darlingggg. Me reborn into the best version of myself. Well I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask for this at all. You had no right." The last words soft filled with your resentment.
Michael couldn't help but see how beautiful you looked. It was unreal how much more enchanting you had become. Your heart no longer beat but still the passion was clear in your face. He was so enamored with you. And now you can be together, you can see the world for what it truly is and take what you deserve and flourish.
Coming out of his thoughts he hears you begin to giggle until you're full on laughing at him. You must still be in shock, he pondered. He might need to put you back to sleep before you harm yourself, or attempt to harm himâŚ
"I'm sorry you feel that way. Truly I am, but I believe once you listen to what I have to say, you'll come to be very happy and thankful for what I've done for you."
Walking closer to you, his steps not making a sound, Michael crouches in front of your face.
His hands hesitate before they wipe the red tears still a little wet against your cheeks. He tilts his head as he lifts your chin to look into his eyes.Â
"I want this to work. And I want you to be happy, that's all I want and I'll take forever to make that happen if need be."
Stuck in your anger and heartbreak, you push his hands away and look down in contempt.
"I don't know if I ever canâŚand you only have yourself and your sister to blame."
Michael, not wanting to make things worse, nods while standing up and heads back to the door you didn't hear him come from. Peeking at him walking away, you watch as he turns back around.
"The castle is quite old, but it's still as wonderful as the first time I stepped through its halls. I hope you will come to enjoy its character as much as I have. You're free to roam around, just call for Janet or I if you need anything."
With that said, he gently opens the door and walks out, leaving you right back to being alone.
'I don't know what to do. I can't just leave this place and go back home especially looking like this.' You Thought.
But there was no going back now and it left you no choice but to accept it. You are a vampire, and it'll be something you'll have to get use to eventually. You were not letting those sickos off easily. They want to turn you? Well fine, now they'll just have to deal with you being as much of a problem as possible. After all, you're just diving into your full potentialâŚ
Gathering a bit of your dignity, you start to get off the floor, looking back into the mirror taking yourself in again. You slowly twist your body side to side to get all angles of yourself to see how far your hair now reaches, to see how your body looks to have been carved from stone, smooth as marble, to see your lashes longer as well as your nails which remained un damaged despite the way they were dragged on the floor earlier.
"At least I'm pretty for sure nowâŚ"
Looking at yourself was starting to be too much for you. Deciding it was time to take Michael's advice, you walk towards the heavy looking door to leave the room. Opening the door, you look in the hall and see the thick red carpet, the gaudy chandeliers on the ceilings. Walking out into the hallway, the door shuts behind you, making you jump.
"Relax," you whisper to yourself.
Glancing around the dark corridors, you see self portraits, starting to walk down the path you see more and more of them. Some of young women and others of older men. 'Must be family members.' you thought.Your bare feet glide against the soft carpet and come to a stop in front of one portrait in particular. A little boy and his eyes instantly capture your attention. Big and innocent, full of life. A smile so shy and small you could tell he was the sweetest thing. Looking to the painting next to the boy, you see another one of a little girl, her smile mischievous and her hair appearing as soft as a cloud. Anyone could tell the family sure did have strong genes.
Continuing to walk, your hands trace the walls of the place, huge and beautiful just like Michael said.
Seeing a window up ahead, you rush over and look out. The sun still down, nowhere to be seen and stars bright as diamonds. Unlatching the window to let some of the cold breeze in, your hair moves with the wind. The level you were on in the castle was very high up as you could barely see the grass down below. The area gloomy, little animals, the only confident thing out at this time to look for food. Cicadas heard loud and clear through the night, breaking the stark sound of nothing.
Pushing away from the window, you go back to wandering the halls, looking for something to do or someway to wishfully escape. Rich black stairs appear near the end of the passage way. Wasting no more time, you walk down and see another floor. This level with no soft carpets, no yellow warm lighting just blue grey stone. No lamps besides one near the staircase lighting only a few steps in front of you.
'Not creepy at all.' You Thought.
A door creaks open at the end of the hall. Not wanting to be a victim of anything crazy, you turn around about to run. Before you can leave, you hear your name being called. Slowly turning your head around, you see a figure standing near the door. Red eyes and a white pointy smile staring you back. The figure walks closer and closer to you, your body frozen in shock till it relaxes, seeing it was Janet.
"Where are you going? You just woke up. It's time for us to catch up."
"Anywhere but here. What's with the scary shit? Why can't any of you guys be normal!?"
You didn't know where the courage to talk to her like that was coming from but you wouldn't take it back. You didn't even want to be here for crying out loud. And now she's asking you why you were going to run with her spooky ass.
"Sorry bout that but your not normal either, at least anymoreâŚ"
'This bitch.' You couldn't help but think.Â
"Right."Â
With Janet now in front of you she took you by surprise again by hugging you. The hug was cold but not restricting. As if she knew you were close to another breaking point.
"I'm glad you're awake. What are you doing down here? This is the hall to my room."
You pull away, looking into her now brown eyes. You still didn't know or understand how they did that, changing the color of their eyes like a light switch.
"Michael said I could look around."
"Well, I guess he's ain't wrong but let me lead you to somewhere safer. Your body is still getting used to the new changes."
'Safer?!' You thought.
Without saying anything else, Janet leads you down more corridors and stairways you barely process. You end up in front of huge double doors. The doors open without any assistance, something you still need to get used to. Guiding you inside, you see it's a ballroom. Walls painted filled with imagery of deep blue water and twinkling stars as well as what seems to be fairies resting against leaves. Walking further inside till you stand in the middle of the room, you slowly turn around, taking all the details in. The tails peeking out of the water, creatures as beautiful as ones found in children's books. It was a fantasy come to life, it was almost unreal the scale of the art you were looking at.
"Do you like it?" Janet asks you sitting next to a piano you didn't see.
"It's wonderful."
Nodding her head, Janet gazes at the walls before turning her attention back to you, waving you over towards her.
"I bet you have a lot of questions."
"I do."
Walking up to her, you sit on the bench facing the grand piano.
Staring at you, Janet reaches out and plays with the hem of your dress before letting it go and starting a tune on the piano keys.
"Well, go ahead and ask them."
'Just like that?' You wondered.
Moving your eyes from her fingers you look up at her.
"Who changed me? My clothes I meanâŚfirst."
"I did. It's cute."
"Right, and who changed me to what I am now?"
"Michael and I."
"Both of you? How?"
"We bit you together."
That explains the pain you felt over your body, it was them biting you together, probably bit you more than once.
"And why did you? Change me, I mean. No bullshit like for my own good, but really why?"
Stopping the lazy playing, Janet turns to you smiling.
"We felt a bond that needed to be explored. So we explored it, that night, first at the bar then in the church till we went through and bonded with you when we bit you. It is true that now as a vampire you'll be the best version of yourself, that's just the truth. Nothing will hold you back from accomplishing anything. No human grievances can get in your way now."
"Bonded?âŚ"
"We're more than family now, more than lovers or friends. Through the bite, our very being has become intertwined with one another. Our blood has been shared. We move as one almost. Michael and I are close as we are siblings but individually with you were like a coven almost."
"And I had no say in all of this. Do you think that's okay?"
"Look no offense or whatever but it's not like if we said this to you, you would have been up for it. I know you were feeling something with Michael and I. We heard your blood rushing and your heart racing when you looked at us."
"I-I what do I do now? I look nothing like I did before, Am I supposed to just be a vampire stuck in this place until you let me go?!"
"I think you'll find that we're not as evil as you think. But enough questions for now, I think you need to eat something."
Before you could sputter out another response, Janet was already walking towards the exit, leaving you no choice but to run after her like a child.
Caught up to her, you both walk until you reach another set of doors open displaying a dining room. Candles perched on the table, shiny silverware against fragile porcelain plates. Thick curtains against tall windows keeping the light to a minimum. There being a open space leading to what must be a kitchen. Sitting in the middle of the room at the head of the table was Michael with glasses on. Reading a newspaper?âŚ
"So glad of you to finally join me."
"I won't be, I got some stuff I got to finish, save me a bag though."
No more words were exchanged as Janet pushed you inside the room and walked away, leaving you with Michael all over again. Looking up from the paper, he takes his glasses off and places them on the side of the plate.
"Well, don't just stand there, silly, take a seat," he laughs while pointing to the chair next to him.
Feeling defiant, you sit in the chair closest to the door across from him. Licking his lips and grinning, Michael shakes his head.
"Don't mind the glasses, they're useless now for me but I like them anyways."
"Sure."
Staring at one another, both of you saying nothing, Michael rises from his seat. Running his long fingers against the table cloth, he walks closer to you until he's standing behind the seat next to you.
"Are you still mad at me? I was hoping with you talking to Janet, you'd feel more settled."
"I'm here aren't I? I have to get use to this eventually now that were bonded or whateverâŚ"
Not taking his eyes off you, Michael moves to take a seat. Just like any man, human or not, he man spreads with one hand holding his head on the armrest.
"Ah, so you know."
"I do."
"I'm quite pleased we're connected with one another. It's magical. I knew from the first time I saw you that you would be someone very special in my life."
"That's very sweet and all but I really hardly know you. How am I supposed to feel the same?"
"That feeling you felt when you were dancing or even earlier when you first came to sit with us at the bar. That unnamed feeling, the confusion, the want to understand. It was the start of something within you wanting to know more. It was the same feeling I had about you."
You didn't know what to say after that, really, because like they both reminded you, there was a curiosity you had about them. A fear alongside a cautious admiration. Now with this bond, there was no doubt that as time goes by, the feeling would grow more intense day by day.
Grabbing you hand, Michael's large one covers your own completely.
"Give this a chance. Give us a chance. Give me a chance, I beg of you."
'Was he begging you, whining for your approval? Well I do have, who knows how long stuck with them' you thought. Might as well have fun doing it and raising hell. But they didn't need to know about the last partâŚ
"I'll try."
Sighing what must be a sound of relief, Michael let put on a huge grin before leaning forward to kiss you on the cheek, slowly putting distance between your faces, his own not that far from you.
"That's all I ask," he whispers.
If you were still properly breathing and all, you would be surely blushing right now.
Admiring your flustered face, Michael rises from the table again to go to the kitchen. Giving you a chance to "breathe", you glance around the room again waiting for his return remembering Janet mentioning a bag earlier. 'I wonder what she meant.' Seeing Michael return carrying two red bags, he comes to your bowl in front of you pouring out its contents. Going back to his side of the table, he does the same for himself before sitting down.
"I hope you like it, it was fresh from this morning."
Raising his spoon, Michael begins to taste the red liquid. Looking down at the bowl, you see the still red substance calling for you to get your fill. This was blood, it had to be and with shaky hands you follow his lead and grab your spoon and taste it.
It was thick but went down easy. The flavor was surprisingly rich and tasted almost like food. Normal human food. It tasted like a steak, juicy and perfectly made, you didn't know how to explain it better than that. Ignoring the fact that this had to come from somewhere, that being a person, you look up and see Michael's bowl was getting more empty by the minute. His eyes now red, capture your attention, amplified by the blood.
"Delicious, isn't it?"
"It's something..."
So as you continued to eat and the stars were still up in the sky, your life, your new life as a vampire, had officially just begun.
Šboredpretty do not copy my work please Iâll be able to tell
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Synopsis: It's no secret that you've always been petrified of thunderstorms. So when an especially violent storm rips through the night and disturbs your slumber, your boyfriend Michael has just the perfect remedy to calm you down and help you fall back asleep.
A/N: Okay this is highkey embarrassing to admit but I originally started writing this back in 2023 as a Leon Kennedy x reader smut cuz this was back when the Resident Evil 4 Remake came out and everyone including me was obsessing over it but I never finished it and honestly I would rlly hate to see this fic to go to waste so I figured I'd recycle it into a Michael Jackson smut :)) Obv you guys can tell by the photos that I wrote this with Bad era in mind but it works for any era where he had jheri curls/long loose curls. Enjoy!
AO3 Link // Masterlist
It had been thundering for a great deal of the day. Starting in the early afternoon, the dark clouds rolled their way in, the air becoming thick with fog and mist. Then the rain finally came, heavy drops splattering onto the windows of your house as well as the pavement outside with great force. Then finally came the thunder and lightning. It would go on and off in intensity, sometimes a light rumble so minuscule to the point where you didnât even notice it, other times, a thrashing resonance so loud and heavy it nearly shook the house.Â
This time at 3 in the morning, the storm hadnât stopped in the slightest, and the thunder decided to mess with you. The blinding incandescence of the lightning was almost enough to wake you, but what truly startled you was the ear-piercing crack of thunder that hit seconds after. It roused you out of a dreamless sleep, leaving you an uncomfortable mess as the sheets suddenly felt like fire against your hot skin, sticky with perspiration. You sat up as your chest heaved, trying to regain some breath.
You looked over to your right to see your boyfriend, Michael, sleeping peacefully, a serene expression peaking through a curtain of dark curls that fell in front of his face. He didnât seem fazed by the thunder at all. He was in such a deep sleep that he was even drooling on his pillow a little bit.
With a sudden urge to use the bathroom, you got up out of bed, your legs still shaking from being so startled, and made your way to the restroom, trying your hardest not to wake Michael.
You seemed to have failed at not waking him up, because by the time you got back from the bathroom, he was sitting upright in bed and rubbing his face. He looked at you heavy-eyed as he tried to get himself to fully wake up.
âWhatâs the matter, baby?â he asked, his voice light yet gruff. âDid the thunder scare you?â
You nodded your head sheepishly. You always found your fear of thunderstorms childish and embarrassing, but Michael always knew how to comfort you and make you feel better. It wasnât necessarily hard for him to do when you were so deeply in love with him.
âCome here, baby.â
He opened his arms, beckoning for you to lay down on top of him. He wasnât wearing a shirt. He never wore one to bed. No pants either. He always went to bed in just his boxer briefs, nothing else. You were the opposite however, as you always wore a nightie to bed with no underwear.
You crawled back into bed and melted yourself into his arms. His arms enveloped you like a warm blanket and the skin of his chest and torso were refreshingly cool to the touch, combating your skin still prickling with heat. You laid your head directly where his heart was, the soothing sound of it beating in a nice, slow-paced rhythm and the movement of his chest rising up and down with every breath almost put you right back to sleep.
He cooed and whispered sweet nothings in your ear but they were interrupted when another strike of lightning flashed outside, startling you once again as you covered your ears to avoid hearing the roar of thunder that would soon follow. You were wide awake once again.
âGosh, it doesnât sound like the thunderâs gonna stop anytime soon. If it keeps going like that, I donât think youâre gonna be able to sleep,â Michael said with slight worry in his voice. For him, it was fine if he missed a night of sleep, he was certainly used to it, but he hated seeing you go through a restless night over something you couldnât control. He wanted to help, but what was he gonna do? Become God and stop the thunder?
âUgh,â you grumbled as you sat yourself up, âIâm not even tired anymore. Looks like Iâm not sleeping tonight.â You slumped out of Michael's grip and plopped yourself onto your side of the bed, facing away from him in a huff. You werenât upset at him, you were upset that the weather had to be so bad right now. Michael knew how cranky you could get from lack of sleep.
Still, he persisted in trying to calm you down and make you go back to sleep. He turned to his side to face you and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him as your backside pressed up against the front of him. You gasped slightly as your ass made contact with his protruding bulge, the only thing separating the two of you being the thin lace of your nightie and the fabric of his snug boxer briefs.
You could feel yourself get wet almost instantly. You shifted your legs, trying to contain the wetness that was pooling between them out of nowhere. You could almost feel it begin to drip down your thigh, and the feeling of Michael's growing erection pressed up against your ass wasnât helping. God, it was so laughably easy for him to make you horny, it was unreal.
You could feel the outline of his dick veins and the precum seeping through. You moved your legs and fiddled with your nightie, discreetly trying to push it down so that your wetness wouldnât spill onto him. Michael took note of that, gently pushing your hands away and slipping his own hands under your nightie, firmly grasping your hips, massaging them, trying his hardest to contain himself. His hands nearly twitched trying to avoid your erogenous zones. He didnât want things to move too quickly.
You turned to face him and pressed your lips against his, starting out slow and gentle as you two gave each other nothing but quick lazy pecks. However, it quickly transitioned to the two of you devouring each other like hungry animals. You grabbed fistfuls of Michael's hair as you moaned softly into his mouth, his tongue gliding across yours and refusing to let go. Michael's hand slithered underneath your nightie once more and placed itself on your bare ass, squeezing it with great force. Your body grinded against his, your soaking wet folds dampening his underwear, making his cock throb with desperation. He groaned lowly, the vibration in his throat making you tremble as you felt his cock twitch up against your clit, just begging to pound into you.
You broke yourself away from the kiss, as much as you didnât want to. The only reason you did so was because you needed air. âMichael,â you mumbled breathlessly into his ear, âplease~â
He wasted no time in removing his boxer briefs and throwing them to the floor in a haste. His cock sprang free with an intense recoil, lightly hitting against your clit, making you jump with a moan. His precum created a string between your vulva and him, connecting the two of you as one.
Michael pinned you down on your back, maneuvering himself on top of you as he voraciously kissed you once more, his lips so needy and hungry for you. His hands traveled up and down your body, finding their way to your nightie to remove it completely, leaving the both of you fully nude. His large hands grabbed and kneaded your tender breasts, massaging them while he gently pinched and tugged at your sensitive nipples, making you whimper beneath him.
His lips started traveling away from your mouth and down your neck, leaving wet hickeys on your sweet spots that would certainly bruise later. At the same time, his right hand wandered down your body until it made contact with your dripping hole, collecting some of your juices to coat your clitoris in before gently rubbing it in controlled circles. You squirmed and wriggled under his grip as electric rods of pleasure surged deep within you. His slender fingers caressed your vulva further, making sure to tease your entrance while they were at it. You whimpered lightly when his middle and ring finger slipped inside of you with impossible ease, stroking your inner walls to prepare you for what was to come.
CRACK!
Another bout of lightning and thunder whipped the sky, this one so intense that the thunder roared almost at the exact same time that the lightning flashed. In a panic, your hands removed themselves from Michael's hair and raced to cover your ears as your eyes fused themselves shut. Michael acted swiftly by pulling you in close to his body and pressing his lips against your forehead.
"Shhhh, it's okay, baby, it can't hurt you," he whispered in between kisses. "The thunder's only temporary, baby."
With your eyes still closed, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him in for comfort like a teddy bear. His head buried itself in the nook of your left shoulder and he nibbled gingerly on your earlobe as his soft curls tickled your nose. The rapid thumping of your heart pattered onto his own sweat-gleamed pecs, but this time, it was for a reason unrelated to the perilous thunder.
With his entire weight on top of you and your bodies pressed together with not a centimeter of space between each other, there was only one place where his throbbing member could be at this moment, and that was resting amply between your slippery folds. His tip aligned with your entrance but hovered ever so slightly away from it. So painfully close, yet so painfully far.
"Michael~" you whined in his ear, "I can't wait any longer, I need you inside me already." You impulsively bucked your hips, making your vulva tap him just in case he needed a nonverbal hint.
He grinned against your ear and tucked his hands beneath your thighs to pull them up, your knees resting comfortably against the sides of his waist. "Anything for my baby," he murmured.
With one hand cradling your head and the other gripping the base of his cock, Michael lifted his hips ever so slightly and positioned himself right at your entrance. He rubbed his raw tip around the edges of your hole in tiny circles before pushing himself in, taking pride in the rhapsodic moan that ejected from your mouth and directly into his ear as he filled you up.
Meticulously, Michael pushed himself all the way in until his hips met yours. Your thighs rested nicely on top of his and his cock stuffed you just the way you liked, sitting idly in front of your cervix and being hugged by the slick ridges of your pussy's walls.
Gripping onto his hips, you beckoned him to start moving in and out of you, and he did just that, steadily grinding on you, the coarse curls of his pubic hair tickling your vulva with each elongated stroke.
Once you grew accustomed to his size, he picked up the pace, following a stable rhythm that synchronized with the rain outside which had since turned into torrential downpour. Every instance of him sliding in and out of you brought ripples of nerve-stricken pleasure to your core, radiating through the rest of your body in the form of intense heat bubbling underneath your skin that his touch could no longer cool down.
You could feel every vein of his girthy cock grazing the inside of your pussy. Your whimpers of vulnerable desperation blended with the euphoric moans escaping from Michael's lips created a symphony against the aggressive background noise of the rain that coerced your eyelids to flutter closed, making you take in this moment as if you'd never experience anything like this ever again, though you knew full well that that was far from the truth.
Michael's wet lips feverishly pecked at your face, desperate to find your lips until they collided at last like magnets. Your tongues twirled around each other as his cock continued to pound into you, his hips slapping yours with an audible clap every second on the dot.
"God, you feel so good, baby," he whispered into your mouth in between kisses, his voice low and raspy. "You're perfect in every way, I'll never get tired of you. Never, never, never, never~"
He planted sloppy kisses in between each "never" he spoke, missing your lips half the time but you couldn't care less. You were about to say something in response before he glided two of his fingers into your mouth, inducing you to suck, which you did with pleasure. The saltiness from both his sweat and the remnants of precum that had gotten on his hands tasted delectable on your tongue. After several seconds of licking his slender fingers, he removed them from your mouth, bringing a string of saliva out with them which he lapped up before it could fall on your chest, and crept his slobbered fingers down to your throbbing clit.
You mewled at the initial touch, cool in temperature and so overwhelming for the most sensitive part of your whole body, but as Michael brushed his fingers across your clit as well as your surrounding flesh, you relaxed and your eyes fell again as your head rolled back on the pillow, overcome by double stimulation being done on you.
You tried your best to keep it together, but you slowly felt the ribbons that were holding back your orgasm fraying at the seams. Michael skating his tongue across your jawline and neck and leaving wet kisses wherever it landed, his nimble fingers tracing unidentifiable shapes and symbols on your aching nub, his cock slamming into you with no mercy making the headboard bang against the wall with each ruthless thrust, his sweltering body flush against yours and his back muscles tensing as you dragged your nails across his skin. It was all becoming too much. The buildup was drawing close to it's grand finale, and it looked as though the same could be said for Michael with the way his thrusting rhythm sputtered into sloppy out of control strokes and his breathing drastically picked up speed with dainty whimpers sprinkled into the mix.
"I can'tâI don't know if I can hold on any longer, baby," he breathed into your neck.
"I'm almost there, I'm gonna cum, Michael, just don't stop, please~" you responded, swinging your legs up to his back and interlocking your ankles to trap him in; his kryptonite. No matter how hard he tried, Michael was never able to contain himself whenever you pulled out the classic move.
In a frenzied fit, his thrusts gained more speed, his fingers ferociously massaged your clit while trying not to subconsciously ball themselves into a fist, his teeth sunk into the base of your throat, and with a muffled roar of a moan, everything spilled out of him and inside of you, thick ropes of warm cum shooting out of his pulsating cock and into your contracting pussy as you too rode out your high, your juices gushing out and spilling all over him. You both clung onto each other for dear life as your climaxes took over. You wailed Michael's name and he sweetly cried yours as he pumped every last drop of cum inside of you, feeling the same fiery explosion of pleasure deep in the pit of his stomach as you did.
Eventually, your cries turned into tiny whimpers and murmurs as your bodies relaxed once the final bit of your orgasms subsided. Michael lay on top of you for a little while longer with his cock still buried within you, being squeezed gently by each post-orgasm throb that your cunt did impulsively. After several minutes of laying in comfortable silence, Michael got up from the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom to clean you off. Once he finished wiping all of his discarded cum off of your pussy and thighs, he grabbed your nightie from the floor and dressed you before doing the same to himself with his boxers.
Throwing the towel in the hamper, he crawled back into bed and kissed your forehead, snuggling you in tight in the same spooning position that you two were in earlier, and you quickly faced towards him so that you could inhale the leftover animalic musk of his sweat. Michael rubbed your back in an attempt to soothe you even further just in case his primary method wasn't enough. As his eyelids were just about to cave in to allow him to fall into his much needed slumber, another ear-splitting crash of thunder hurled through the sky, startling him awake. When he looked down at you to make sure you didn't get frightened by it, he was pleased to see that you hadn't flinched one bit, for his remedy had worked and you were fast asleep, even drooling on your pillow a little bit.
whoa whoa whoa what happened to the alien fic of Micheal Jackson?? It gave uncanny ..something not quite human but canât put your finger on it vibes!
I need a part 2 IMMEDIATELY đŠyou canât just leave it at that!
WHOAAAA ANON PLEASE YOU GOTTA BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY ITS NOT ABANDONED. Iâm just all over the place naturally and the REQS were taking up my time then I was in my feels about personal stuff. BUTTT the next personal post of mine will be chapter two and most likely the first chapter of my Backrooms story so pleaseee believe when I say I appreciate you for wanting more itâs great motivation. Thanks for reading and reminding me to hop on my iPad lol.
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