hi

When Michael first brought you, it took you some time to loosen up, being in a new environment, but after a few shots, you were both dancing and giggling to the music together, sure it would look like you were dancing to different beats, but you were dancing together nonetheless.

When a couple drag queens come up to you both, asking to dance with Michael, you figure it’s the perfect opportunity to step away and grab a bottle of water.

"We not good enough for you, honey?" Cupcake, a drag queen, famous at the club, questions sassily.

"Cupcake, stop playin with me. You know Mike can dance all night, I need a break," You tease one another, before kissing each other's cheeks and stepping away.

You pass by Bill, Michael’s chauffeur, and pick up your purse, before reaching the bar.

"Can I just get a water?" You ask, when the bartender makes her way to you.

Quickly she reaches underneath the counter and pulls out a cold water bottle.

"Thank you, add it to Mike's tab." You add before taking a seat and grabbing a napkin from the counter.

Taking a breath, you reach into your bag and pull out a compact mirror to look at yourself while dabbing your face with the napkin.

"Hey beautiful," You hear as you feel an arm wrap around your shoulders from the side, in a friendly manner, looking up from your seat you see Denzel Washington. A new friend of yours who you met one late night while looking for Michael at the club.

"Denzel! How are you?" You smile, a bit enthusiastic due to the alcohol in your system.

"Good, I was wondering if I'd see you here tonight. I saw you and Mike dancing." He says, chuckling kindly.

You start laughing, as he pulls a chair close to you. "He's been wanting to come! I love coming too but lord, I can't keep up with him. When Cupcake came up to us I figured it was my chance to take a break." You smile, as he leans in slightly to hear you over the music.

"O'cmon, I've seen you, you seem like you could go all night. I saw ya’ll both doing the robot in a dance circle last time I was here."

"Nooo, you didn't see that," You smile covering your face, embarrassed, before continuing, "I definitely had too many drinks that night, and it wasn’t as good as you make it seem." You laugh, the drinks in your system making you friendlier than normal.

From the distance, Michael sees you and Denzel leaning into one another's frames, talking and laughing. Michael isn't an idiot, he can tell Denzel has a crush on you, and seeing you so closely together, his mood immediately changes. Slowly he steps away from his friends and Latoya quickly glances at him before noticing where he’s looking.

She quickly walks up to him, "They're just talkin Mike."

"Yeah, whatever." He quickly begins making his way through the crowd to you.

While Michael and Latoya make their way towards you both, Denzel attempts to make a move on you.

"Hey, I mean you made it look good." He smiles, "You look beautiful tonight by the way."

You try to remain polite, forcing a smile as you begin glancing around for Michael. Not able to see him, you glance back at Denzel, "Thank you." You respond simply.

Conflicted by your reaction, Denzel decides to be forward, allowing you to accept or reject his advances.

"Look, award season is around the corner, and I'm nominated for a few different categories. My label is trying to get me to bring a date, and you were the first person I could think of asking.— Would you like to go with me to the the Oscars?"

With perfect timing, Michael shows up in your line of sight and quickly places his hand on your shoulder, in a friendly but possessive manner. He glances up at Denzel as if taken off guard by hiss presence, despite intentionally approaching you both.

"Hey Denzel, what's up, man?" Michael greets him, as Denzel stands and they dap each other up.

"Hey Mike, man. How are you?" Denzel responds, attempting to hide his frustration.

"'m good. Hope you don't mind, I need to steal my homegirl." He responds, as your teeth clench in restraint as you bite back a quick retort.

The unfortunate part about being with Michael was that despite so many people seeing you together, you had to deny any romantic relationship with one another. Of course, some people figured there was something romantic between the two of you, since you were stuck to each other's hips.

But the lack of physical affection, was also able to convince many that you were indeed ‘best friends’ like the two of you claimed. Michael made it clear that his label didn't want him to be in a public relationship, therefore when you went out together there were boundaries, including no pda.

While initially this frustrated you, you understood that you and Michael had gotten together just as his solo career was beginning to take off. So, you agreed to their terms out of fear of being perceived as using him. Sure, you were a top runway model, but Michael's career was at another level. You didn't want people to think you were trying to benefit from his image.

Despite your attempt at being understanding, you couldn't help the silence you met Michael with on your way to the car. Realizing the tension between you and Michael, Latoya quickly decides to stay at the club with one of their brothers.

As Michael holds the door open for you both and shuts it behind himself you can't help pressing him, "I didn't know I was just your homegirl now."

Michael, huffs in frustration, "You know I didn't mean it like that."

You roll your eyes, attempting to move slightly away from him, before he moves closer to you and attempts to hold your hand before you pull it away. "How'd you mean it then?"

"Baby, you know I can't just go callin you my lady in public. I didn't think about it before saying it.”

You huff a sigh as he grabs your chin and turns you to face him before pulling you in for a chaste kiss. "Forgive me." He says gazing into your eyes, inches away from your face.

You gently remove his hand from your face before leaning back in your seat and glancing out the window. "Whatever,” you reply, as he pulls your hand back in his. 

A few moments pass before Michael bites his lip and begins playing with your fingers nervously, "So, what were ya'll talkin about?"

You can't help smiling softly, you knew Michael would adamantly deny being the jealous type, but when it came to men flirting with you, you could tell when he was bothered.

"He asked me out." You admit immediately, not looking at him.

Michael's fidgeting with your hand stops, as you continue looking out the window.

"You were smiling a lot for him to be asking you out, wha'd you say?" He says, resuming his fiddling with your hands, thoughtlessly.

"I didn't say anything, you got there just in time." You reply simply, finally glancing back at him, gauging his reaction.

"Good, I know he was mad." He smiles, biting his lip and you can't help giggling softly.

"You're so dumb."

The thing about your relationship with Michael is that you both hated confrontation, the good thing is that he knew exactly how to lower your guards. He knew you were quick to reciprocate his energy and if he remained calm then you would too. You both loved how easy and peaceful your love felt.

You quickly began leaning onto one another, giggling. As you both look outside the windows together, Michael sees his favorite convenience store, that has his favorite niche brand of orange juice and leans forwards. He quickly slides back the window divider and asks Bill to pull over at the store.

"Do you want something, mama?" He asks, leaning back, glancing at you.

"I can't" You sigh, "I have that show coming up, I need to be careful with what I eat." You lean your head onto his shoulder, pouting.

He kisses the top of your head sympathetically. "You've been doing really good, a small snack won't hurt." He says, as the car stops in the back of the store's parking lot.

"C'mon, let's go look. You don't have to get anything if you don't want, but a bite won't hurt none either."

Before you head inside, you throw on a cap and Michael throws on a hoodie from the back seat of the vehicle, which he always keeps on hand for last minute outings.

The store run was quick, and isn't an odd occurrence for you two. Afterwards, you both head to Hayvenhurst where you stay the night.

The morning after, you and Michael wake up to his landline ringing. He slowly unwraps himself from your hold onto one another and mumbles a raspy greeting.

You glance at the clock, it's 8am. Before glancing back at Michael. He begins sitting up on the edge of the bed, humming.

"Okay." He sighs. The room is silent, besides his shuffling movements.

"I understand." He mumbles, seemingly frustrated, before slightly raising his voice, "Alright man— it won't happen again."

He immediately hangs the phone back on its receiver.

"What happened?" You ask, sitting up against the headboard, while Michael remains on the edge of the bed, facing away from you.

He's quiet for a moment, "There are newspapers going around with photos of us from last night, at the convenience store."

You hum, adjusting yourself on your knees behind Michael, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before placing a peck on his shoulder. "We knew it was gonna get out sooner or later right?"

You rest your head on his back, arms moving to wrap around his stomach from behind. Grogginess, keeping you from considering his responses during the phone call.

He awkwardly coughs, clearing his throat, before remaining quiet, considering his words carefully.

"John said we need to be more careful, he doesn't want us going out together in public for a while." He suggests, mentioning his manager.

You slowly pull away, eyebrows furrowing in shock. You had been in a relationship for over a year, you thought you had earned some semblance of respect and authority in your relationship. Michael's position on the matter seems clear, he must agree with their opinion

"Is that what you want?" You ask softly, staring at his slumped figure, as he continues facing away from you, avoiding eye contact.

The silence is lingering, as he simply doesn't respond, his eyes shutting as he lowers his head to rest on his hands.

You nod to yourself slowly, and begin gathering yourself together before leaving quietly.

Michael didn't want to hurt you, but when the conversation of your relationship arose in meetings, he understood where his team was coming from. As horrible as it may seem, Michael knew you didn't match him in status. Sure, you were a supermodel, and did amazing in that facet of your career, but your acting skills weren't up to par. You were criticized often in the public eye for only being a pretty face.

When his team discussed your image, they said that any negative discussion directed towards you would naturally be placed onto Michael. They figured since the 'Thriller' album was doing so well, they shouldn't entertain any discussion of Michael being in a relationship with a c list actress.

Unfortunately, Michael prioritizes his career over almost everything in his life, in his mind, not telling you that your negative image is what is keeping him from going public with you, is him protecting you. He figures what he doesn’t tell you can’t hurt you.

What Michael doesn’t know is that you’re fully aware of what critics are saying about your acting skills and that you were actively taking acting classes now, to help you improve yourself.

It was initially supposed to be a surprise, you wanted to prove yourself to your boyfriend. You know how hard working and successful Michael is and figured, he would be excited for you when you got accepted in a blockbuster horror film, after taking acting classes. Yet, when you got the call confirming you got the role, you decided to not mention it to him.

Things hadn't been the same after his phone call with John Branca. He seemed distant, and while it wasn't unusual for you to go some time without a proper conversation, you couldn't shake the feeling that this time was different.

You never had a proper conversation about their call or how you both felt, so the tension felt lingering when you did speak to one another. While you typically appreciated how you both avoided confrontation, in moments like this when it built distance between you two, you can't help feeling resentful about how passive you both are.

A few days turned into a week and a half.

You knew that Michael was nominated for multiple grammy's and despite the distance between you two, you tried to contact him beforehand, wanting to bask in the moment with him in any way you could.

When he didn't pick up your phone call, you were hurt, but convinced yourself that he must've been incredibly busy preparing for the award show. Since you couldn't be with him, you decided to surprise him and wait for him at Hayvenhurst.

You were seated on his bed, in his pajamas, when you noticed Brooke Shields was seated beside him. He brought her as his date.

You never heard Michael even mention her. Sure, Michael had plenty of friends in the industry and he didn't need to explain any of them to you, but you both knew what him showing up with her meant. Michael was a very meticulous person, if he brought her as his date it could only mean one thing.

He wanted people to think they were together.

Watching Michael break the record for the most nominations and awards received in a single night feels bittersweet. The man you love is being celebrated for something he worked tirelessly for, but at his side is another woman.

You sit for the entirety of the award show in tears, considering how you want to react when he arrives, but your rational side is thrown out the window when he enters the room. You’re pacing his room, face puffy, when he enters. People are a few steps behind him talking, when he sees you and his smile fades.

The people helping him carry his awards are disregarded as he shakes his head at them and quickly shuts his bedroom door, before setting down the two awards he was holding onto his nightstand. He sits on the edge of his bed and watches you, as you pace, biting your lip, in an attempt to focus on anything besides your blurrying vision.

Finally you stop pacing and grab his award softly, looking at it. "Congratulations," Your voice cracks.

Michael's eyebrows furrow, as he sees you struggling to hold yourself together, but restrains himself from reaching for you, attempting to give you space.

You sigh, as tears stain your cheeks, and you gently place the award back on the nightstand before walking to his dresser. You finally look at him, as you lean back onto it.

"Why’d you take her as your date?" Your voice remains steady, as tears continue falling and you wipe them away.

"John thought it would be a good idea to bring a date. We ended up deciding I would ask Brooke."

You can't help scoffing, "Instead of your girlfriend?"

"They thought it'd be best"

You can't help rolling your eyes and raising your voice, "Michael, can you take some responsibility? You're a grown man! You have a say, stop using your team as a way out."

His eyebrows furrow in confusion at your raised voice, you had never yelled at him before.

He looks at the floor, nodding slowly, "I thought it'd be best."

"Why?" You plead, wanting a genuine answer for once.

"John doesn't think you have the best image." His eyebrows scrunch together, embarrassed.

"What are you talking about? I've never been on the front page of a magazine for my private life until you." You can't help scoffing.

Michael covers his face, slowly sliding them down in exasperation before leaning on his elbows, which rest on his knees. He is slouched over on the edge of the bed.

"It's the acting roles you've been doing, people say they just haven't really been— the best." He says, avoiding eye contact.

"Are you kidding me right now? That's what this is about." You begin connecting the dots. Michael was okay being seen out with women in public, taking photos. Just not you. You didn't fit into his picture perfect life.

"You just don't think I'm good enough for you," You mumble to yourself.

"That's not what I said," He stands, approaching you, attempting to touch your waist, before you pull away.

You take a step away from him before folding your arms underneath your chest, and dropping them quickly. You don't want to look as small as you feel right now. "You know, even though things haven't been the best between us the past few days, I called you." Your voice trembles.

"I figured it's Michael's big day, I need to put our problems aside. I was so sad I couldn't be there with you. Not because I needed to be seen with Michael Jackson, but because I knew you would break records tonight." You can't help glancing at the ground and shaking your head in disbelief.

You slowly continue, despite your voice cracking, "I never doubted you for a second. I just wish you believed in me too."

Michael is facing you directly, wanting more than anything to hold you, as his vision becomes blurry. "I'm sorry, I was wrong, I see that now. You didn't deserve that. It's just hard." He struggles to find the right words.

"It's hard?" You can't help raising your voice, "What part was hard, Michael?" You ask, as he flinches in embarrassment. You point at the television, voice never faltering, "Cause from here, it looked pretty easy.— Was it hard asking her out? Was it hard sitting beside a pretty girl all night? Was it hard accepting every award, while I was at home, in tears?"

You scoff, "Oh I know, maybe it was hard thinking about the possibility of ever needing to be seen with me. You know what, you're right. It must've been so hard lying to me in the meantime."

In tears, Michael shakes his head, "I never lied,— I never lied to you. Everything with you was real, especially my feelings."

"Intentionally withholding the truth, is lying to me. You went with her and didn’t tell me. And your feelings for me mean nothing if they don't come hand and hand with respect."

Michael's eyebrows furrow in frustration, "I never said I don't respect you, you keep puttin words in my mouth.— I did wrong, I know I did. I shouldn't have taken her. I should’ve gone public with you, but don't make it seem like I'm this evil person."

He pleads, continuing, "I never meant to hurt you, that's why I didn't wanna tell you I was goin with her or what they were saying about your acting ."

You roll your eyes, "You aren't getting it. If you can be in a room where people are talking about me and you don’t feel the need to defend me, then you don't respect me."

You shake your head, pointing outside the bedroom door, as your voice trembles." I don't care what anyone else has'ta say about me. I know what the media is sayin about me, trust me. I just thought if anyone would be on my side it was you."

Michael takes a step closer to you, and you allow him too, as he takes hold of your hand, fidgeting with it. "I am on your side. But I understand, baby, I did wrong. I'm sorry, really."

You give yourself a moment of comfort and allow Michael to play with your hands before you gently pull away altogether.

"I don’t forgive you." You simply whisper in return, biting your lip.

You begin turning around and gathering your items that you had slowly left over at Michael’s over the year and a half that you have been together.

He remains hot on your heels, "C'mon, work with me here.” He pleads, “ I said I'm sorry, really I mean it.— I'll tell them that we're gonna go public, I don't care. Just don't do this. Don't walk away from something good."

You stop digging through your designated drawer in his room and look at him. "This isn't something a sorry can fix, Michael. If you want me the way you say you do, prove it."

You quickly throw as many things as you can into a duffle bag and leave his house.

Operation Getting Your Lick Back .ᐟ

The movie crew wanted to do a quick table read weeks before shooting the horror movie to make sure everyone's on screen chemistry was good. It was here you became close with Jane Fonda and Rita Moreno, your costars. Although you weren't supposed to discuss your relationship with Michael to others, you never signed an nda, so when they found you sulking, you opened up.

After an hour, they knew about your acting career, your year and a half long whirlwind romance, his obsession with control over his public image, and Brooke Shields.

"Oh, honey. This reminds me of my past relationship with Marlon Brando." Rita shook her head in remembrance.

"You dated Marlon Brando?" You ask in disbelief, never having heard of their relationship.

She hums, "Those years were some of the best nights of my life," she winks, laughing softly.

"He had the women chasing after him, that's for sure" Jane chimes in.

"He did plenty of the chasing too" Rita adds.

"He cheated?" You say, face scrunched in disgust.

"Of course, he was a dog." She states indifferently, as your eyes widen.

Without a second thought, she continues, "There was a point, I was so tired of his cheating I decided to get even." She states, as you and Jane lean forward in anticipation.

"I had just found a pair of lingerie in his house, and I was so heartbroken. I remember going home in tears,— And anyway the next day I got a call from Colonel Parker, Elvis' assistant and he said Elvis saw me at the commissary at Fox Studios and he wanted to meet me. He asked if I would also like to meet him."

She smirks, continuing, "I remember thinking about the lingerie I had just found and I said why yes I would."

You all began laughing together.

You quickly chime in, excitedly, "Well, what happened next?"

"Well, we went out that night, and it quickly spread into the gossip columns the next morning! Marlon heard about it and he was furiouss, he was throwing chairs and yelling, oh he was so mad." She smiles widely.

She quickly grabs Jane's and your knees, leaning in and whispering slowly, "And it was wonderful." You begin squealing in excitement while they laugh along together.

"Did you get back together then?" You enthusiastically ask.

As you all three lean into one another, your hands interlocked with Rita, who appreciated your enthusiasm.

She smiles sadly, patting your interlocked hands with one of her own. "Of course, at that point I didn't want to end things with Marlon. I just wanted to make him feel the way he had made me feel.— We were obsessed with one another. We wouldn't end things for good until two years later."

You hum in response, as you all begin thinking quietly amongst yourselves.

Jane pipes in, "I guess the question now is whether you just wanna make Michael work for it, or whether you wanna see him sweat? The way Rita did."

"And boy did I make him sweat," Rita giggles softly as they both lean in and you pull your hands from Rita's, twiddling your fingers, considering your next words carefully.

It's silent for a moment, and then you smile nervously before making eye contact with the both of them. "I wanna make him sweat."

They began squealing together, before Rita chimes "I knew, I liked you!"

You smile softly, as she pulls you in for a quick hug. You continue, "I just want him to feel how I did, seeing them at the Grammy's together."

"Well you’ll need a man," Jane chimes.

"But not just any man!" Rita elaborates, "You need a man who is able to make him sweat, part of what made me meeting Elvis so hurtful was that it made Marlon realize I could be with someone more successful than him."

"I don't know anyone more successful than Michael." You think aloud.

"He doesn't need to be more successful, He just needs to be someone who everyone knows and holds in high regards. Someone important,— someone who can make him sweat." Jane corrects.

You think for a moment before you quickly lean forward on the sofa, "I know exactly who! Denzel Washington, he's a good friend of mine, and Michael knows he's asked me out."

The women gasped and began gushing over him, Denzel's career was just beginning to reach new heights. Everyone was talking about him, and that partly was because he was easy on the eyes. Which only helped your situation. He's the perfect man to make Michael sweat.

The plan is quickly under way, and when you call Denzel, asking if the invitation to the Academy Awards is still open, he happily agrees.

-

A few days later the awards show was held, you had been receiving calls from Michael, but made it clear that simple 'sorry's' weren't going to cut it. In the meantime, you were walking the red carpet with Denzel.

The dress you wore hugged your figure perfectly. Your back was completely showing, with only two thin straps holding the front piece in place from behind. The back cut was almost uncomfortably low as it rested directly above your ass.

Photographers are immediately yelling out for you both to look in their direction. The dress would go down in history and your delicate makeup and voluminous hair only added an elegance to the look.

Throughout the entirety of your photos together, Denzel's hand rested directly against your lower back, right where the dress ended, adding another layer of conversation to your look for the night. Your comfortability with one another, along with your appearance, and Denzel's first ever award show wins demanded attention.

'Denzel 'Wins Multiple Awards for First Time, Alongside Supermodel Date!'

Gossip columns went on tangents the next day over your look and comfortability with one another. Photos circulating of you both in the car after the award show, laughing closely with one another. Which led them to believe you were both in a relationship, much to both of your satisfaction.

The gossip just assured you that Michael would hear about your public appearance together.

Operation Getting His Girl Back .ᐟ

"Yo, Mike!" Michael hears Randy yelling from the outside of his bedroom door, as Randy and Marlon continue banging on his bedroom door.

"Mike! Hurry up, open the door." Janet yells, with Latoya by her side, reads another newspaper.

Michael, groggily shuffles out of bed. "I'm comin, damn."

As soon as the door opens, Marlon shoves a newspaper in his face, a small section showing a blurry image of a man and woman in a car, close together.

"Who is it?" Michael questions in a raspy voice.

"It's your girl and Denzel Washington, man." Marlon shakes his head, while everyone looks over his shoulder at the newspaper.

"He's so fine," Latoya mumbles to herself, before her siblings stare at her, dumbfounded.

"My bad," She forces an awkward smile.

"What're you gonna do?" Randy chimes in curiously.

Michael stares at the image, before mumbling "I'm gonna get my girl back."

The past week after your argument, Michael had been calling you daily, unsure of how to approach getting you back. These calls were cut short by you, but the fact you were still answering at all feels like a positive sign. You were open to the possibility of something, he just couldn’t understand how to prove it to you.

The siblings huddled around in Michael's room, as he began pacing slowly, While Janet sat crisscrossed in the middle of the bed, with Latoya laying down next to her, looking up at the ceiling.

Randy was digging through Michael's trinkets, while Marlon sat crisscross on the floor, leaning back on his hands.

"So a phone call is a no?" Marlon asks.

"I've been doin that, she answers but never wants to talk long." Michael says before sitting on the edge of the bed, frustrated.

"Have you tried sending her flowers?" Latoya asks, looking in Michael's direction.

"No." Michael responds.

"Well what have you tried?" Janet asks.

"Calling and showing up at her house." Michael sighs.

"Did she open the door," Marlon asks. As Randy opens a wooden treasure chest full of toys, digging inside.

"No." Michael replies, flopping back on the bed, and rubbing his face.

"What if you try sending a big arrangement of flowers and a letter?" Latoya adds, sitting up.

"Do you think that'll work?" Michael asks.

"I don't think you have much of a choice, you needa try something else fast." Janet criticizes.

"Alright," Michael replies, nodding.

-

In the meantime, you were doing your daily routine of working out, going to your acting class, and meeting up with Rita Moreno for lunch. Who was overjoyed to see you on the front page of her newspaper that morning with Denzel, and demanded you grab lunch to gossip.

By the time you had gotten to your small Hollywood home you immediately noticed multiple giant flower bouquets on your doorstep.

You struggle to enter your doorway and notice that your door is struggling to open because of the amount of flowers surrounding your foyer. You smile softly before following the flower petals leading up to your room. You see bags of your favorite couture brands on your bed surrounding an envelope signed 'Mister winning my lady back, Yours Truly, Michael ᥫ᭡".

Immediately you tear open the envelope.

'Dear Pretty Girl,

The past week has been really weird. The best way I can explain it is that it feels like I'm missing a limb from my body, and no one else except I seem to notice it. I'm trying to go about my daily life like everything's normal, but I feel this part of me missing, and I can't stop thinking about it. I miss you. I really really do. I didn't realize how deeply my actions were hurting you until you left. I know, I'm an idiot.

I'm not quite sure what else to say. I know that my actions haven't been the best, and even now I feel like I've waited too long to do something drastic but I'm trying to be intentional. I'll do whatever it takes. I love you, Pretty Girl.

Yours Truly,

You're Pinhead Boyfriend.'

Quickly glancing through the bags you notice items you have previously circled in magazines, while at Hayvenhurst with Michael. Biting your lip, you decide to give Michael a small break and call him. He answers on the third ring.

"Hello?" He questions.

"Hey," You smile softly, "I appreciate the gifts and the letter."

"Good!" He says enthusiastically, before coughing awkwardly "I mean good, I'm glad."

You giggle softly, before thinking out loud, "How did you get everything inside my house?"

"OH, um I have that key you gave me. I didn't want the men who were moving everything inside to do it while your house was empty and I didn't think you'd want me in there so Latoya and Janet were there to let the guys in." He says, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

You hum in response, appreciating his thoughtfulness. "Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you, really. But that doesn't mean everything is okay. I'll talk to you later." You mumble quietly.

"Wait," He raises his voice anxiously. "I'm dying here, baby. I don't know what you want me to do. Whatever it is, I'll do it! I just need a hint. Give me something, mama." He pleads.

Considering his perspective, you sigh. "I'll think about it." You're quiet for a moment before continuing. "Anyways, I really need to go. I'll talk to you later Michael, bye."

"Bye, I love you," He replies, as you hang up.

-

When Michael wakes up the next day to a hand written letter signed by you, his excitement is overwhelming. You decided to cut him some slack. He quickly tears open the envelope.

'Hey, Pinhead Boyfriend #1'

He reads, before rolling his eyes smiling, he knew you wanted to make him jealous and he definitely was, but he knew he had to be careful about how he handled your situation with Denzel. If he acted irrationally, he may push you away for good. For now he intended to focus on fulfilling your demands.

'I decided to be nice and write some demands out for you, the sooner you complete them, the sooner I'll hear you out. First, I need you to announce your relationship status. However, I want this done on my terms. I want you to announce it publicly in a television interview. I also want to see you announce it to our closest friends, at Studio 54 through a thoughtful and practiced performance. Secondly, I want to see you be creative and come up with a thoughtful heartfelt gift on your own. Get to it dummy, I’ll be waiting! ❤︎⁠

Sincerely,

The Only Woman Who Better Be Sending You Love Letters!’

-

The interview was recorded and televised the next day, despite Michael’s busy schedule he demanded John fit it into his agenda. The interview was brief as a result but Michael figured that would be okay. The less said in the interview, the more that the public's focus would be on his newly announced relationship status. Which it was.

Despite the completion of his task, his phone call with you was still short. You meant business.

Wanting desperately to be back in your good graces as soon as possible, Michael began cancelling his obligations throughout the week to begin practicing for his serenade performance at Studio 54. He had exactly four days to perfect it.

He even paid his brothers as well as ya’ll’s favorite drag queens, to practice and be a part of the performance. After the drag queens berated him for his decision to keep your relationship a secret, they agreed to help.

He also made sure to set aside time at night to paint his gift, a portrait of you.

The days felt too quick for his liking, and he began to worry about the performance, but he already told you to be at Studio 54 on Saturday night and he couldn't go back on that now.

He can't help his nervousness as he begins setting up the stage with his brothers for their performance. You sit in a private, elevated section with your friends. In the meantime, Cupcake is continuing her crowd work.

Michael quickly takes a seat on the edge of the stage, gazing down at the floor, unmistakably sad. Before Cupcake approaches him, calling his name. A part of the performance.

Michael and Cupcake follow their prewritten script, building up the anticipation for their performance, before Michael and his brothers get on stage and the melody to 'I Want You Back' begins playing and the boys begin dancing the choreography in sync. The crowd cheers as Michael focuses on you entirely.

'When I had you to myself, I didn't want you around. Those pretty faces always made you stand out in a crowd'

You can't help smiling, watching the obviously rehearsed performance begin. Your friends in your section immediately squeal and begin chattering about the performance, which you don't pay attention to as your focus remains on Michael. Who is also completely focused on you.

'Oh, baby, give me one more chance, to show you that I love you.'

Michael emphasizes the lyrics, while simultaneously staying in line with his brothers who are all dancing alongside one another.

As the music progresses, couples around the room are dancing together, friends are singing passionately to one another, and other audience members are dancing with the drag queens in the crowd. The song begins passing midway through, when you see a few drag queens take each of the Jackson sibling's place on stage as the brothers slowly stop performing and move off stage. Michael remains singing, as the drag queens take their places on stage, serving as backup singers and dancers for the crowd.

The brothers quietly walk off stage, Michael, walking up the steps to your section with his brothers following suit, grabbing items from the side of the stage before rushing after him. Marlon brings a bouquet of roses, Jackie brings a bottle of wine and glass cups, Tito holds a large but thin wrapped gift, and Jermaine holds small tubes in his hand that you can't yet identify.

'Oh, baby, I need one more chance. I tell ya that I love you'

Michael smiles as he reaches you, and you begin dancing with one another. You both gaze into one another's eyes lovingly, smiling widely as the song comes to an end.

As the music finishes, Michael hands his mic to Jermaine, and holds both of your hands while playing with them. He's nervous and unintentionally avoids eye contact for a moment, to gather himself together.

You see his adam's apple bob up and down, while he nervously clears his throat, before finally meeting your gaze.

"What do you say, can I have one more chance?" He nervously gauges your response.

You smile softly and nod your head.

Immediately, confetti is flying around you as everyone in the room is now cheering. Michael looks around and, as he meets your gaze once again he's smiling genuinely now. He lets go of his grip on your hands and they instead move to your jaw, before leaning in. Your lips meet for a slow but chaste kiss.

You spend your night celebrating together with your friends, dancing and laughing. And when you both finally get home, you have a serious and much needed heartfelt conversation. Specifically, about his negative reaction to the criticism you were receiving regarding your past acting roles, as well as his decision to bring Brooke to the Grammy’s

He listened intently to everything you had to say and apologized profusely for his obsession with his and your public image, promising to spend as long as he needed make it up to you. He also promised he wouldn't have contact with Brooke Shield's going forward.

Until the conversation of Denzel finally arose.

"I just kinda feel bad about leading him on." You mumble.

"Oh, he'll be fine, don't worry about that." He states indifferently, playing with the hem of his oversized shirt, which you are wearing, as you both cuddled on the bed.

"You sound so sure of yourself. He really liked me, you know," You acknowledge.

He scoffs, irritated at the mention of Denzel, "Trust me I know."

You sit up from your position. Curiosity getting the best of you, as you look at him, "Then what makes you so sure he won't care."

Michael's eyebrows furrow as he cringes momentarily, frustrated with himself for saying anything. He rubs his hands against his face before sighing.

"I may or may not have spent the last few days setting him back up with his last longterm girlfriend." He coughs, before adding, "They're actually on a date now,— in Hawaii."

"Did you pay for them to travel to Hawaii, just to get him out of the picture?" You scoff in astonishment.

He bites his lip, "When you say it like that, it sounds crazy." He mumbles.

"Yeah, I'm the one making it sound crazy" You reply sarcastically.

You can't help furrowing your eyebrows, while looking at him. "I don't know whether I should be concerned or flattered." You think aloud.

He quickly pulls you back down against him, as his hands find themselves on your jaw as he begins smothering you in kisses. "Flattered, definitely flattered." He replies,

You smile softly. "You know, that seems an awful lot like jealousy." You tease.

He pulls away, humming in response, "I don't think so. I was just tying up a few loose ends, helping a friend out, you know?"

You scoff in astonishment, "You might actually be insane."

"I wasn't gonna let him ruin my one chance at getting you back. I just did something nice to get him out of the way in the meantime." He states gauging your reaction, his thumb softly tracing your jawline.

"Are you upset?" He asks softly.

You remain quiet for a moment, considering your answer, "No, if I had seen you in person with Brooke at the Grammy's, I may have done worse."

He huffs a breathy laugh, "Yeah?" He asks, biting his lip before leaning down and leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck. He loved when you got possessive.

'mhmm' You smile, placing your hand on his jawline, softly leaning back on the bed, as you gently pull his face above yours.

"And if you ever do some dumb shit like that again, we're done." You murmur softly, eyebrows furrowed as he notices the hurt in your tone.

He nods softly, " I did wrong by you and I know that, but I swear it won’t happen again."

He leans down and your lips meet in an open mouthed kiss, his tongue softly teasing your bottom lip in the process. While his hands softly trace your jawline and yours slowly begin tugging on the hair on the nape of his neck, as you follow his lead.

Michael sucks on the bottom of your lip slowly before he begins gradually leaning back, as his grip on your throat tightens slightly, guiding your frame on top of his, before he slowly pulls back from the kiss, while you begin kissing along his jaw towards his neck. He settles himself against the headboard, while you straddle him.

His hands make their way up your thighs before groping your ass and eventually tugging at the shirt you have on. Both of your clothes are quickly disregarded as you successfully attempt to find comfort in one another’s embrace for the night. You both seem to wordlessly agree in simply wanting to become intimately reacquainted with one another after your time apart.

He's Never Living It Down .ᐟ

It had been over forty years since your brief separation from Michael, which was the only time where you genuinely almost walked away from him for good. Life has been great. You have five beautiful children together and 12 grandchildren. Things are good.

It was the last Friday night of the month, and therefore your mandatory family night. Your house was filled with children, teenagers, and adults all roaming around, talking amongst themselves in the living room or kitchen.

You were sat on Michael's lap, cuddling on the sofa, with a blanket draped over you, talking quietly amongst yourselves. While completely unaware of three of your grandchildren who were planning on messing with you, laughing quietly amongst themselves.

They quietly sit on the opposite end of the couch, attempting to look casual when your granddaughter, Kayla, raises her voice, immediately catching ya'll's attention, as her brother, Jackson records, attempting to stifle his laughs.

"I'm soo hungry," She wails. "I could eat Denzel Washington."

You scoff a laugh in complete disbelief, as Michael immediately sits up loosening his grip on your waist.

"Denzel Washington?" Michael's eyebrows immediately furrow in annoyance, while he lets go of you.

"Has she been mentioning him," He asks looking at you in disbelief, while the kids start laughing hysterically and you sit completely baffled.

"I haven't thought of that man in years, don't start." You say getting annoyed with him.

"Why are they talkin bout him?" He quickly directs his questions towards the children who are wheezing with laughter, while the rest of the room has gotten quiet and everyone is now watching y'all's reactions, smiling or laughing. "Where'd y'all get that name?" He asks them seriously.

"Papa, we found the photos of Granny with him when they were young and just wanted to mess with ya'll, it's a tiktok trend." Jayla speaks up from her spot, next to her sister, smiling widely.

You can't help chiming in "You chose the wrong name, the one you should've said was Brooke Shields." You say raising your eyebrows at Michael. To which he closes his eyes and his head falls back on the couch in disbelief. How he ended up in trouble, he didn’t know.

Your eldest son chimes in, "Ya'll done got Papa in some trouble." He says as you stand up and walk away, annoyed that he would get angry over hearing Denzel's name when he knows he was the one who rubbed Brooke Shields in your face. He didn't have any right to be annoyed.

Michael quickly follows after you, hoping you weren't genuinely upset with him.

One of your daughters chimes in "He's gonna be sleeping on the couch if he doesn't start kissing up." They laugh amongst themselves before one of their significant others asks about the story behind the celebrities being mentioned.

They slowly settle around the couch while Michael follows you silently in the kitchen.

"Papa cheated on Granny with Brooke Shields." One of your grandchildren chimes in.

"I thought Granny cheated with Denzel," Another asks.

Slowly your children reveal the story to their children and significant others, each one chiming in at different points, having heard the story multiple times before.

By the end of the story, everyone is murmuring amongst themselves. Before your youngest daughter explains to those unaware, that their names were basically forbidden words in your house growing up. They always led to an argument, with Michael ultimately being the one in trouble and having to apologize.

One of your children's significant others finally speaks up, "I hope they figure things out, she seemed really upset."

Your youngest daughter rolls her eyes before revealing "Oh, they'll be fine. They get like this every once in a while. I bet they're already good."

Your next youngest son butts in, "No way! The last time, mama was so mad she made him sleep on the couch."

They begin bickering amongst themselves, as a few of your children and grandchildren decide to peek into the kitchen, to see if you were arguing with Michael. Instead, they see you leaned up against the kitchen island, hands on Michael's face while his hands rest on your waist, and he is smothering you in kisses "'m sorry— love you— 'm a dummy." he mumbles between kisses, while you giggle softly.

he does it anytime, anyplace: in front of the mirror while you watch him, him holding your thighs open while he feasts. in the morning, when you’re climaxing as you wake up. on the marble counter in the kitchen whilst your vegetable quiche is burning in the oven.

and now, you’re here again: on your the dinner table in the kitchen, your face shoved in the hard mahogany wood, your back slipping into a clean, perfect arch for your boyfriend, who hungrily laps fat, thick stripes over your sweet, slick-coated folds.

you’re already dripping wet, dribbles of slick drooling down your quivering thighs as you sigh out. your pussy sounds like a wet tube, spluttering and spraying white cum on the wooden table. fat, greasy droplets splat-splat-splatting off each other.

“such’a good kitty f’r me,” michael mutters, his greedy hands kneading your mound as you push your back in an even sharper curve. “such a pretty, wet pussy.” he says from behind you.

an answer is not needed; you lightly jerk your bum in his face. michael separates your ass cheeks with carefulness, afraid you’re going to break. your ass cheeks parting produces a sticky, sweaty sound as cool air hits your untouched skin.

“look at that, baby,” michael says, voice strained and coated in wonder. the inside of your ass glistens from sweat and lost drops of cum. your plump ass is shaped like a cute little cherry. “looks so fuckin’ pretty. all’o ya.”

at the feeling of your ass widening, you slide your thighs wider.

michael’s tongue darts out to give your ass crack a tiny, demure lick. the jelly-like substance of cum accumulates on the tip of his tongue, all white and creamy, as michael hums in satisfaction at your taste.

“ass is made for me,” he mumbles, his hands subconsciously playing with your clit. “a fuckin’ five star meal. drippin’ on the dinner table, coated in juice.”

without any warning, your boyfriend dips his face between your ass cheeks, inhaling your scent. the tip of his nose gently breaches open your puckered hole.

“mike—” you whine out when he wiggles his face around between your cheeks, his tongue shyly lapping at your seam, a place he oddly feels at home. the weight of his face smothers you further into the wood. “‘s so dirty— what you’re doing.”

michael huffs out a cocky laugh. “but i am dirty,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing in the world to admit, “and you’re a dirty girl. y’like that, don’t you—? me licking your ass?”

you feel disgusting.

he doesn’t wait for another second, dropping a dollop of his thick spit on your puckered, twitching hole. his tongue circles around it, but when michael tries to prod further, you close up.

it’s not like you want to. it’s just a bodily reaction. “‘s all good now,” michael coos at how you whimper in the wood. you’re a little frustrated you’re denying him access, even though your little pussy is shaking from anticipation and excitement, your peachy slick running down your soppy folds. “just your mikey, just wanna eat y’open.”

michael continues to sweet-talk your ass whilst you keep wiggling against the cold wood, until— “i have an idea.”

it takes a couple of seconds until you feel it: the sticky substance of honey drizzling between your ass cheeks, all syrup-like. michael takes his pointer and middle finger to spread the gluey liquid from your ass cheeks over your slippery, cum- and sweat-coated folds.

another drizzle of honey right on your asshole, the honey getting all webby around your tiny hole as she puckers in and out. michael circles his thumb around it, spreading it thin.

“fuck baby, now you’re even sweeter,” he moans out, looking at how your bum is sticky, shiny, and covered in something edible. perfect for him to eat.

he squeezes your ass cheeks shut, pulls them open again — with some more force from the stickiness, this time — as thin ropes of honey connect between your two cheeks. michael’s sloppy tongue curls up to break the honey strings, his hot breath fanning over your skin.

“so—” he licks one side, “fuckin’— ”then the other, “delicious.” and then he kisses your fluttery asshole, his lips coated in the sticky honey, leaving his lips all shiny and smooth.

you can only croak out a “oh my g—” before your boyfriend attacks. suddenly he eats your ass like a man starved: the feeling of his raw lips scraping over the soft globes of your ass, tongue tenderly slipping into your now tender, vulnerable, squelching hole. “that feel good, baby?” he says into your skin.

michael’s strong hands hold your cheeks open as you feel the honey cloying around your tight ring. the amber mixture mingled with michael’s saliva meanders between your folds as michael rotates slow, slimy circles to your pounding — also honey-covered — clit. “y-yes, so f— so good.”

his movements are so slow from the stickiness of the honey, it produces soppy sounds, like two wet hands rubbing over each other, as honey gushes around your vulva. michael presses down teasingly on your clit, testing out what your pussy will do.

your entrance gapes open, honey also webbing across your abused entrance.

“y’hear that?” michael asks, the sounds of your pussy squirming, unabashedly obscene, bubbling out slick under the honey mask, droopy strings falling on the table. “that’s the sound of someone gettin’ her fuckin’ beautiful ass eaten.” he laughs, placing one nasty smack to your jiggling ass. like you’re something to be played with. “look at how wide she’s. all for mikey, right?”

and then he goes back. back to driving his tongue into you. gathering all the remaining honey from your puckered asshole, laving your backside up as your cummy, sugary taste marinates in your mouth. “fuck— michael, do something, do something—”

you forcefully push your asshole further onto michael’s tongue, the inside of your hole all velvety and gummy. his tongue impales you; all stiff and hard as he tries to wiggle it around in the tight space.

“‘m gonna do something. just wait,” it doesn’t take long before michael pushes you down on your back on the dinner table, your damp, sticky ass all slippery and gloopy on the wood. the mixture running down your pussy lips is so heavy and thick, and trickles all between your crack as michael pushes your knees to your chest, all of your weight shifting to your upper back.

you’re completely opened for him. like, completely. your flowered-open pussy, as well as your clammy, tight hole, begging for wet friction, on display. “now i can alternate between both of my girls,” says michael with a dark look, examining your pussy, your shiny ass.

he wastes no time to go in for the kill as his hot, soppy tongue eases into your usual hole, the tip of michael’s tongue curling, prodding at your walls. but then he goes back to your ass, squeezing his tongue between the taut ring as his hands stretch your ass cheeks further.

you can’t do anything but take it. now you know he loves eating you out, front and back.

he gave your hand one last reassuring squeeze before walking away to greet his friend. once he departed, you took a spot in the corner of the club, not too far from the bar. it was a good vantage point—safe from the crowded dance floor but close enough to keep an eye on things.

you were just watching and vibing with the music when a shadow fell over you. you looked up to see a very familiar face approaching.

tupac smiled, leaning one arm against the wall near you. “hey ma, how you doing?”

“i’m good, mr. shakur. how are you?” you said. you wanted to be polite, keeping your tone even and professional, but secretly you were hoping he’d just take the hint and go away.

“i’m great now that i’ve seen you,” he said, his voice smooth, completely confident.

you forced a tight smile, your eyes instantly scanning the crowded room to see where your man was. michael was still locked in conversation a few yards away, his back turned to you.

tupac noticed your wandering gaze. “looking for somebody?”

“just my boyfriend,” you responded directly, hoping the word boyfriend would act like a solid brick wall.

it didn't. tupac just let out a low laugh, his hands rubbing together as his eyes ran down your body, taking you in. “boyfriend? girl i could care less about that. come party with me and my crew tonight. i promise i’ll show you a good time.”

the sheer arrogance of it hit you instantly. he’d literally given you the ick so so badly, the uncomfortable warmth spreading in your chest making you want to roll your eyes and walk away.

“im good, thanks,” you said, your voice dropping all the previous politeness.

“come on now-“ tupac started, stepping just a fraction closer into your space.

“i think the lady said she was good pac.”

the interruption was sudden. michael had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, stepping right between you and tupac. his voice had dropped to a low, heavy tone you’d only ever heard a handful of times before—the exact tone he used when he was absolutely pissed.

tupac blinked, looking a little caught off guard before he squared his shoulders, a cocky smirk returning to his face. “with all due respect, michael. i wasn’t talking to you.”

“but you were talking to my girl,” michael said, his posture rigid, his chest heaving slightly under his jacket.

“your girl?” tupac asked, raising his eyebrows. from the slightly glassy look in his eyes and the way he slurred the words just a fraction, it was clear he was drunk out of his mind. he looked at you, then back at michael, letting out a mocking laugh. “oh so that’s why this bitch wasn’t checking for me. okay playa.”

the word left tupac's mouth and the entire atmosphere shifted. the air in the corner of the club turned completely freezing.

“don’t call her that,” michael warned, his hands curling into tight fists at his sides.

“or what mike? you gonna hit me? i’m so scared,” tupac laughed, entirely amused, completely misjudging the situation.

sensing the immediate danger, you reached out, your fingers catching the fabric of michael's sleeve. “michael, don't, let's just go—”

you tried to stop him, but before you could even finish the sentence, michael moved.

it happened in a fraction of a second. michael’s right arm swung forward with a sudden, explosive speed no one in that corner expected. there was a sharp, sickening crack as his knuckles connected dead in tupac's jaw.

the force of the blow sent tupac stumbling backward into a nearby high-top table, sending a couple of glasses crashing to the floor. the sudden noise caused a few people nearby to snap their heads around, their eyes widening in pure shock.

tupac stayed down for a second, one hand flying up to cup his face, his cocky expression completely shattered into stunned disbelief. he blinked rapidly, shaking his head as a thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his lip.

michael didn’t step back. he stood right where he was, shielding you completely, his breathing heavy and his eyes completely dark with an intense, protective fury.

"i told you," michael said, his voice dangerously quiet, vibrating with an authority that left no room for argument. "don’t call her that."

tupac glared up from the floor, his hand still on his jaw. for a split second, it looked like he was going to scramble back up to his feet, but before he could make a move, two members of his crew rushed over from the bar, having seen the commotion. they quickly grabbed pac by his arms, holding him back.

"yo, pac, chill, chill! let's go, man, it ain't worth it," one of his friends muttered, looking at michael with a mixture of wariness and utter surprise. they knew better than to let a full-blown riot break out here.

tupac spat a bit of blood onto the floor, his eyes narrowing to slits as his friends began dragging him back toward the VIP exit. "you lucky, mike," pac muttered darkly, his voice muffled. "you real lucky."

the second they disappeared through the heavy doors, the heavy tension in michael’s shoulders seemed to snap. he let out a long, shaky breath, the terrifying anger in his expression melting away into pure anxiety as he spun around to face you.

“are you okay? did he hurt you? did he touch you?” he asked frantically, his hands coming up to gently cup your face. his palms were warm, his touch so incredibly soft and careful it was hard to believe he’d just thrown a punch a second ago.

“i’m fine, michael, i’m completely fine,” you said, your own hands coming up to grasp his wrists. your heart was hammering against your ribs. you looked down at his right hand, noticing his knuckles were already swelling and turning a dark shade of red. “your hand... oh my god, michael, you just punched him.”

michael looked down at his fist, then back up at your eyes. a faint, almost sheepish look crossed his face, but there wasn't a single shred of regret in his eyes. “he disrespected you. i don’t care who he is, no one talks to my lady like that”

looking at him standing there—completely untamed by his usual shy, gentle demeanor just to protect your honor—a sudden rush of warmth flooded your chest, completely washing away the bad vibe tupac had left behind.

“come on,” you whispered, pulling his arm gently toward the main exit. “let’s get out of here before the security gets involved. let’s go home.”

“yeah,” michael agreed, his fingers sliding down from your face to lock tightly with yours, pulling you close against his side as he led you out into the cool night air. “let’s go home, baby.”