𝓕𝓵𝓮𝓾𝓻

Stage lighting shined down over the set, warm and bright. The recording of the “Blood on the Dance Floor” video was taking place. Michael was dressed in a red leather suit, fitted perfectly to him. Silver bracelets were dangling from his wrist, rings adorning his fingers, all of them reflecting under the bright state lights. His jet black hair was pulled back into a braid. Dancers flowed around him in their spots, as he lip synced to the camera. 

“Cut! Everyone take five!” The director called out. 

Dancers and backups immediately scurried off the set. Michael let out a breath, walking over to his seat where his water bottle was sitting, grabbing it and taking a sip. He really couldn’t wait for this to be over. Not because he was having a bad time or anything, in fact the recording has gone perfectly so far. He didn’t want to be here because his mind kept wandering back to you. You who were at home, nine months pregnant with your first child. You had practically had to force him to leave you earlier this morning, assuring him that you would be fine and that he had to go film this video. Michael smiled softly to himself at the memory of you practically pushing him out the door earlier. He should probably call and check on you real quick. Just as he was about to walk off to do that, he heard somebody from his team yell out at him. He looks up as the man approaches him, a nervous look on his face.

“Michael, your wife called.” The man tells him.

Michael’s expression immediately turns to one of concern, “Is she okay? Why did she call?” 

The team member swallows, “She’s in labor, and on her way to the hospital now.” He quickly says.

Michael’s eyes widened.

No, no, no, this was his worst nightmare. You going into labor alone, without him there. 

Michael immediately starts running, “Bill, let’s go!” He shouts. The security guard nods, running to catch up with him.

“Michael, where are you going? We’re not done shooting!” His manager yells out.

“I gotta go. My wife, she’s in labor.” Michael shouts back, not bothering to even turn around to look at the guy. 

When he and Bill get to the car, they book it out of the parking lot. Luckily the shoot wasn’t far from the hospital, only about thirty minutes. But thirty minutes felt like eternity to Michael right now. He needed to be there with you. He should’ve been at home with you when you originally went into labor.

When he finally makes it, practically busting through the door of your room, you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, holding your bump as you breathe heavily, sweat already beading down your forehead. Your head whips up to look at him, face softening in relief instantly.

“Michael, you’re here.” You smile softly, letting out a breath. 

He’s by your side immediately, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I got here as fast as I could, I’m so sorr-“ 

“No, no, don’t be sorry, you got here. That’s all that matters.” You whisper, looking into his big brown eyes.

That’s when you took in his appearance, noticing the red leather suit that fit him perfectly in all the right places, and the rings and bracelets decorating his wrists and veiny hands. “What are you wearing?” You ask breathlessly.

That’s when your husband looks down and finally remembers what he’s wearing. That was quite frankly the last thing on his mind at the moment. “Sorry, I was just trying to get here to you. I wasn’t even thinking about what I was wearing, sweetheart.” He responds sheepishly.

“No, you look good.” You blurt out, “Too good actually.” 

Michael huffs out a laugh, looking down briefly before looking back at you. 

“If I wasn’t in so much pain right now, I think you could convince me into making another baby wearing that.” You murmur.

Blush creeps up your husband’s cheeks, “You’re crazy.” 

“Maybe so, but I’m not lying.” You say honestly.

You whimper as another contraction hits you, Michael is grabbing your hand immediately, using his other hand to push any stray hair out of your face. “Hey, hey, you’re okay, angel. Doin’ so good.”

You grunt, squeezing his hand at the pain, “I want him out already.” 

Michael nods, kissing your cheek softly, “He’s gonna come out soon, baby. I promise.”

He wasn’t lying, just a couple hours later you were laying on the hospital bed, fully dilated and pushing. You had been pushing for 15 minutes in reality, to you it had felt like ages already. 

“Just a few more pushes, Mrs. Jackson. He’s crowning.” The doctor instructs.

You practically sob, already so physically exhausted. Your grip on Michael’s hand is already impossibly tight, as he wipes at the sweat on your forehead with a rag again. You shake your head, “I can’t, I can’t push anymore.” You sob, looking at Michael. 

“Yes you can, sweetheart. I know you can.” Michael speaks softly, smoothing down your hair.

You shake your head, sniffling, “No, I’m so tired and it hurts so bad. I can’t.” You sob out again.

His hand, the one not being squeezed, comes to wipe away your tears. He presses his forehead to your temple, “You can, honey. You’re so strong and you’re doing s’good. You squeeze my hand as hard as you need to, break it if you have to, ‘kay?” Michael whispers soothingly into your ear, keeping his forehead pressed against your temple.

You sniffle again, nodding as you push again, screaming out in pain as you do, your grip on Michael’s hand is so tight you honestly don’t know how it isn’t broken. 

Then, there’s a cry. 

A real, raw, tiny little cry fills the room. 

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch the nurses lift your son up. 

He’s crusty and bloody, but he’s absolutely perfect to you. 

Now you’re sobbing for a different reason. Pure joy and relief. 

“You did it. Did so good, angel, so good.” Michael says, voice raw with emotion now as well as he presses kisses all over your face. 

You nod, letting out a wet laugh of disbelief, “I did it.” You whisper.

Then the nurse comes over with your baby boy, helping you lay him on your chest for skin to skin. You look down at your son, who has stopped crying now that he was with you, he’s tiny and perfect, and you almost can’t believe he’s real. 

Michael’s eyes are watery, as he lets his hand softly trace his son’s cheek, “Oh my god.” His voice waivers, “You did it, sweet girl."

You shake your head, “We did it.” You sniffle, smiling at your husband.

And that is what finally makes the dam of his emotions break, tears now falling freely down Michael’s cheeks as well, “Yeah, we did it.” He nods.

Now, a few hours later after everything had settled down a little bit, and after Michael had gotten changed into some comfier clothes, much to your dismay, you were completely content now. You laid in bed, watching in absorbing awe at your husband, who was sitting in the chair next your bed now holding Prince to his own bare chest now for his own skin to skin with him. The sight was the most perfect thing you had ever seen, angelic almost. 

“You’re staring.” Michael murmurs, smirking at you.

You hum, “Yeah, I am, the view is just too good.” You smile.

He looks down at his son on his chest, sleeping peacefully, smiling to himself as he looks back at you. 

“You know, I will never let Prince forget that you came dressed to the nines for his birth.” You laugh softly.

Michael shakes his head in amusement, “I’m sure you won’t.” 

There’s a beat of silence, “You know I was serious, right? I would let you put another baby in me if you wore that again.” 

That earns you a laugh from him, that he desperately tries to stifle as to not disturb your sleeping son. 

“I’m serious! Get back with me on that in six weeks when my vagina isn’t torn.” 

𝑴𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒆𝒍 was waiting on the bed with his sunglasses in one hand when the bathroom door opened.

You nearly turned around and went right back inside. The bikini had looked fine in the store and fine in your hands.

But now, standing in front of him, suddenly felt ridiculous. Your arms folded instinctively across your stomach.

Michael saw that, his smile faded. not because he disliked what he saw. because he recognized insecurity the second it appeared. You looked away first. "i-it's ugly isn't it.." The mattress shifted quietly.

When you looked back, he'd already stood. "Why do you say that baby?" You shrugged Unable to explain it properly.

Michael stopped in front of you, Close enough now that you could smell his cologne also close enough that looking at him felt harder than wearing the bikini.

His eyes travelled slowly over you once.. taking you in. Appreciating. The look alone made heat creep into your face. Michael's expression softened. "Baby.. my beautiful lady..." You immediately looked down. That made him smile.

His fingers found your chin, lifting it gently until you looked at him again. "Look at me please.." You hated how nervous you felt. And he could tell.

His hand slid from your chin to your cheek. Thumb brushing lightly against your skin. "You've been standing in that bathroom worryin' about this, haven't you?" You didn't answer. Michael laughed quietly. but not at you, never at you. It was the kind of laugh that said he'd already figured it out.

His other hand settled carefully at your waist. You felt your pulse immediately betray you.

"I don't like when you talk about yourself like that." His gaze dropped briefly. Then returned to yours. "Especially when I get to look at you." The words came out so naturally that they made the butterflies in your stomach active again. Michael seemed embarrassed the second he realized he'd said them out loud, His eyes flickered away.

a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, very shy. Always shy when he meant something. You loved that about him. "Michael..." He shook his head Still smiling to himself.

Then his hands settled at your waist properly Drawing you a fraction closer. "You know what I see?" His voice was quieter now. You shook your head. For a moment he simply looked at you. Like he couldn't believe you genuinely didn't know.

Then he leaned forward and pressed a kiss against your forehead trailing down to your neck. His hands never leaving your waist."I see the prettiest girl I've ever known." You immediately groaned. Michael laughed. "Look at you."

"Michael Stop it. I'm serious."

"So am I baby." The answer came too quickly. His forehead rested lightly against yours. A smile still lingering on his lips. And suddenly he looked far more nervous than you did.

His thumb moved gently against your side, Back and forth. "I don't want you hiding from me, ever. do you hear me baby?" You looked up. Michael's eyes were impossibly soft. "If you're nervous, tell me you're nervous."

"But don't stand in front of me thinkin' there's somethin' wrong with you." His gaze dipped once more before returning to your face. A faint smile appearing again. "Because, baby...fuck." His hands squeezed your waist lightly. "There really isn't."

( 💌 𝓀𝒶𝒾; never be insecure my loves, you are truly beautiful the way u are! )

© KAIOMII. ‎‎‎ ❤︎ all rights reserved. all works are a work of fiction.