#carmaloves

Husband!Michael who never ever fails to open the door for you. He never lets anyone beat him to it, and he most certainly doesn't allow you to open the door.

Husband!Michael who constantly takes photos of you, even when you're doing the most mundane of tasks. Reading? Picture. Talking? Picture. Watching a movie? Picture. Breathing? Picture.

Husband!Michael who starts leaving hints that he's ready for a kid. He buys books on parenting, leaving them purposely in plain sight. Talks about how sweet his nieces and nephews are, all while side eyeing you to see your reaction.

One time he was sitting beside you on the couch and without prompting said, "Yknow, you would look really good pregnant. Like really really realllly good."

You look at him like yeah right, but he's looking incredibly serious.

Husband!Michael who runs victory laps around the Neverland estate when you tell him you're pregnant. He’d take a long lap, and run back to you panting.

“you’re positive???”

When you nod he would scream and take yet another lap.

Husband!Michael who immediately starts building a nursery and buying all sorts of baby clothes, despite not knowing the gender. He buys you anything and everything that could help make the process easier for you. You have a whole closet now full of pregnancy balls.

Husband!Michael who just about faints when he first sees the baby through the ultrasound. He held your hand tightly, eyes brimming with tears. The sight of him made you emotional, and you squeezed his hand.

He kneeled beside you and kissed your hand, "I promise you, I will always be here to take care of and cherish you and our baby."

And there wasn't an inch of you that didn't believe him.

Masterlist

After a particularly rough rehearsal, Michael found himself longing to see you more than ever. It had only been 2 days since he was last face to face with you, and only 17 and half hours since he's heard your sweet voice through the phone. And still, he just had to see you before your scheduled date.

"Bill, straight to my lady's place." He smiled eagerly, ready to see the happy look on your face when he turned up at your door almost 7 hours early.

"She know you're comin, Joker?" Bill glanced at him from the rearview mirror.

"Nope!" He smiled brightly.

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Loud music blasted through your apartment, the speakers that Michael had bought you already being put to use. Michael's newest album, Thriller, spun on your turntable, his sweet voice following you all through the small living space.

You had decided to allow yourself a nice spa day before your dinner with Michael. You had been lounging all day, doing absolutely nothing but planning your outfit, how you would style your hair, and which lip combo you wanted to go with.

You had just taken the longest most relaxing bath known to man, bubbled practically overflowing from the edge of the tub, scented candles burning carefully, your hair wrapped up in the softest turkish cotton towel. It was pure bliss.

It took every ounce of your will power to pull yourself from the warm water. Once you found the strength, you carefully stepped out of the bath, wrapping a towel around your torso as you stepped up to the mirror.

You hummed quietly as you applied some ridiculously expensive mask to your face. You wanted to look absolutely perfect for your date with Michael, which meant looking absolutely ridiculous beforehand.

You were currently dancing around your apartment haphazardly, a deep green face mask covering your face, hair pinned up in a protective style, a large t-shirt with your boyfriend's face covering your body. You wore an old stained pair of sweat shorts under the large shirt. You laid out your dress and heels, laying them carefully across the edge of your bed. You sang wildly as you moved to the kitchen, fixing yourself a warm cup of tea.

"I WANT TO LOVE YOU, PTY! PRETTY YOUNG THANG!" You sang loud and obnoxiously, not caring if your neighbors would voice another complaint.

Michael smiled to himself as he stood outside your door, ready to see the happy look on your face. He gently knocked on the door, bouncing on his feet as he heard you approach the door. You skipped over to the door, completely unsuspecting. The absolute last person you expected to be on the other side of the door was Michael. Yet, as the door swung open you were met with his bright eyes, a large smile plastered on his face.

You blinked, eyebrows shooting up in horror. "Michael!?"

He nodded, "Surprise!!"

You let out a small yelp as you looked down at your attire, slamming the door in his face. "You- you're not supposed to be here!!" You yelled through the door.

Michael's laugh was muddled by the thick wood of the door, "I know, baby, I just wanted to surprise you. Why don't you open up the door?"

"No thank you-" You squeeked out.

"Why?" He tried the doorknob. You held it shut.

"Cause I don't look right!" You frowned.

"That's impossible, now open up. I've been dyin to see your pretty face all day." He pushed at the door carefully.

You leaned against it, not giving in. "That's the thing! My face aint pretty, I've got on a mask and nothin under it."

He smiled, heart melting. "You're pretty no matter what, baby. I don't care what you look like, you're just as gorgeous as ever. Now please let me in, I wanna hold you."

His sweet words slowly coaxed you to open the door. You hid behind it, but allowed him into your space. "You shoulda called me, Mikey. I would've gotten much more presentable for you."

Michael gently grabbed your hand, pulling you into his line of sight. "Nah, you don't have to do all that for me. I'm just glad I'm gettin blessed with your presence. Plus you look real cute like this." His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. "And I really like this shirt you're wearin." He teased.

You looked away, your face heating up. "Yeah, the guy on it's pretty cute."

He smiled, "And whoever you're listenin to can really sing."

That managed a laugh from your lips, "Oh yeah, I heard he's the best performer of our time."

"That so?" He rubbed small circles against your hip.

You hummed nodding slightly.

"Well I'm sure he's got the best girl there is to offer."

You playfully rolled your eyes, "You're such a flirt." You patted his chest as you pulled yourself from his grip, heading into the kitchen.

He followed after you like a puppy, eyes scanning your bare legs. "I cant help myself, you make it so easy."

You turned and raised a brow, "You callin me easy?"

He blinked, eyes wide, "No! No of course not! I'm only tryin to say that you- well I just- I think you look nice and."

You laughed, quickly pecking his cheek. "Just teasin, Mikey."

He smiled bashfully. "Y'know... I was lookin forward to our dinner reservations, but I wouldn't be opposed to joinin in on whatever it is you're doin." He gestured to your face mask.

You laughed, "You want me to put a face mask on you?"

"Oh is that what they're called?" He played dumb. Of course he knew what they were, his makeup team had always had a habit of giving him one after particularly long shoot days when he was filming Thriller. But he knew if he played the fool, you were more likely to get all up in his space to help apply it, and he just couldn't resist the urge.

You laughed, "Yes Michael, that's what they're called. And they're super soothing, but are you sure you want to cancel our dinner plans?"

"If that's okay with you. It was a pretty hard day at rehearsal, and as much as a dinner sounds nice, I think just lounging around with my girl sounds even better. Especially with you lookin all cute in a t-shirt with my face all over it."

You smiled, shoulders relaxing as his arms found their place around your waist again. "Alright, come on lover boy." You tugged him to your bathroom, making him sit on the ledge of your tub. You grabbed the small container of your face mask and the applicator. Michael watched as you stood above him, leaning down to carefully grab his face.

He gently reached up, hands grabbing your hips and guiding you onto his lap. You settled yourself on either side of him, biting back a smile. You held his chin in your hand, tilting it up slightly. You gently brushed the mask onto his face, fully focused on making it as nice as possible.

Michael watched with heart eyes as you bit your lip every so slightly in full concentration. He smiled brightly, gripping your hips tightly in his hands. The whole thing was so domestic, it made Michael's heart swell with pride.

Once you were done you leaned back and admired your work, humming approval and pecking his lips gently. “All done, just gotta let it sit for an hour.”

He nodded, helping you stand back up. “Where’s that camera I got you?”

“Hmm, on my vanity, why?” You looked over at him from the sink.

“Cause I wanna take a picture before you wash yours off! Save the memory!” He smiled and disappeared into your room, returning seconds later with the camera.

He pulled you close, carefully directing the lens towards the both of you. You smiled, your head tilted towards his as his arm wrapped around your waist tightly. The flash went off, a large polaroid shooting out the top of the camera.

He shook the picture as you washed off your mask, patting your face dry with a clean towel. He kept his gaze on your face, admiring your natural beauty.

You glanced at him through the mirror, “You’re starin, Mikey.”

He smiled and nodded, “Sure am.”

You smile to yourself, pulling him out of the bathroom and into your living room. The rest of the night consisted of movies, ice cream, teasing, and a whole lot of kissing.

As he left the apartment that night, he stared down at the sweet photo in his hands. When Bill picked him up, he leaned over the center console, showing Bill the picture with pride before carefully placing it in his wallet. He made sure to remind himself to pay you more surprise visits.

Nothing could have prepared you for that morning. Nothing. Before you had fallen asleep, everything had been fine. He was by your side, laying in your shared king sized mattress. He was breathing, he was smiling, he was talking, he had kissed you.

You had gone to check on the children when the doctor came in that morning, Michael was still asleep. You saw his chest rising and falling. You had kissed his head and thought nothing of the anxious feeling growing in your chest.

You were in the nursery, gently rocking your 6 month old baby girl, when you heard the doctor's voice shouting nervously from your bedroom.

After that, things were a blur. Your brain had shut out most of the memory, but you knew you had seen him despite the doctors best efforts to keep you from the room. You remembered the paramedics arriving far later than they should have, you remembered the sounds of the hospital, the voice of the doctor as he tried to tell you that your husband was gone.

You think you cried, you honestly weren't sure. You just remembered the feeling of emptiness settling into your chest, the feeling of your heart growing cold.

You refused to go back to the house for weeks, opting to stay with Janet. Those weeks were the darkest weeks of your life, you had lost your husband, the one person who understood you, the person who you had given your life to. And just like that, he was gone. It wasn't fair, nothing about this was fair. Not the fact that he was gone so suddenly, not the fact that you hadn't gone with him, not the fact that you had the children to look after.

You had really done your best to be there for the children, for the baby, Paris, and Prince. You tried to put up a strong front around them, to show them support, but there was only so much you could do.

There were days where you couldn't find the strength to leave the guest bedroom you were staying in. And there were a lot of days where you had wished that you hadn't woken up. But no matter how badly you wanted to be with Michael, you knew you couldn't.

You and Janet stuck together for a long time, leaning on each other for support. But there came a day when you knew you would have to go back to the Ranch, go back into the room to get your things. You had bought a small apartment, far away from all the things that reminded you of Michael. You couldn't live in the house, it would have driven you insane.

Janet kept the kids for the day, as you headed back to Neverland. You pulled off to the side of the road multiple times, trying to regulate your breathing. Since he had left it was like panic had embedded itself in your chest, you were always short of breath, you were always on guard, and you were always on the verge of a breakdown. It didn't help that you were receiving letter after letter from news outlets begging to get a statement from you. The entire family had given statements, but you were silent. Even at the funeral, you hadn't said anything. It took a lot of convincing to even get you to go, but you did, for the children. But you didn't say anything, instead you stood near the back, holding the children tightly, tears falling into a puddle at your feet.

The press took your silence and ran with it, saying that you had never cared for Michael, saying that you were in it for the money. The paparazzi had been stalking you more than ever, and you knew they would be at the gates of Neverland, waiting for your black Cadillac to drive by.

And that they were. There were so many of them, that they completely surrounded the car, trapping you just outside of the house. Their cameras flashed in a frenzy, blinding you from inside the car. Your throat closed up as you did your best to block out their antagonizing questions.

"Are you here to get the rest of his money?"

"Were you conspiring with the doctor?"

"How much money did he leave you?"

"Will you finally drop the act?"

"Are you happy your husband is dead?"

You covered your ears, sobbing into the steering wheel as security tried to get a hold of the crowd.

But the damage was done. The little amount of your heart left shattered into a million pieces. Everything around you blurred as you gasped for air, choking on your own tears and cries. Your sobs turned to screams as you curled in on yourself in the car, clutching your head in your hands.

It was Michael's two heads of security that shook you from your spiral. You jolted at their touch, body shaking as they looked at you with horrified expressions. You had been unreachable for 10 minutes, despite the fact that the reporters were gone and the two men were trying to talk to you.

You looked pale and frail, and they tried to make you go to the hospital, but you refused, saying that if you didn't go into the house now, you never would. They made you get into the back seat as they drove the car the rest of the way, sharing nervous glances with each other.

They stayed by your side while you walked through the house, getting the things you had come for. It wasn't as bad as you thought until you were standing in front of your and Michael's bedroom door. You quietly asked for a moment alone, to which the two bodyguards begrudgingly agreed to.

You stayed in the bedroom for a long time, hand running against the sheets, or the clothes in his closet. You slowly got your clothes, before carefully taking a few of his, the things that smelled most like him. You knew that his scent would fade away soon, but you didn't care. You needed something of his to hold onto. His familiar scent made your head spin, because you could smell him, but you knew he wasn't there.

When you got back to Janet's, you locked yourself away in the bedroom with his sleep shirt.

The next day, the front pages of the tabloids were plastered with your devastating face. The titles called you crazy, out of your mind, insane, a loose screw, anything they could think of they called you it. Janet was furious, but you couldn't find the strength to care.

All your strength had left you the day your husband died.

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It had been almost 17 years now, and you were better, but you still weren't healed fully. Things had been up and down, some years were good, and then some years were particularly bad. Especially while raising the baby, those were the hardest years. You were on your own, you were inexperienced, you were lonely, you were depressed, and you were paranoid beyond all belief. The press had still been bombarding you, still trying to get some sort of formal statement. But you were a sealed door, they weren't getting anything from you. These were the same people who mocked your husband, the same people who lied and tried to ruin him, and now they wanted to play the sympathy card. They could all go to hell.

There were days you begged God to bring Michael back, and there were days where you cursed at him for taking Michael away from you. When your daughter got older, she started asking questions about her daddy. Paris and Prince would always go quiet when she asked, and they would look at you. You always did your best to answer her questions without crying, you wanted her to know everything she wanted about her daddy. But it was hard, it was hard when she asked you why he was gone, if he was coming back, and it was hard when all three of them talked about how badly they missed him. You never tried to sugar coat things, you told them it was hard for you too, but that Michael believed all of you were strong, and that he was watching over you all.

Things got better as the press stopped hounding you, of course there was always a letter or two every month, but nothing like how it was before. That was until your husband's biopic had come out. You were proud of everyone involved, especially Jaafar. The premier was the first time you had been seen publicly at an event since Michael's funeral. You didn't dress up all crazy like other people, but you did wear his favorite dress. You thought the movie would be hard to watch, but it made you smile. For the first time in a long time, you felt your husband's presence. It was almost like he was sitting beside you, holding your hand. After the screening you found Jaafar and gave him the biggest hug you could muster, not caring that cameras were flashing behind you. You pulled back and smiled at him softly, "Michael would be so proud of you."

The moment was brief, but there was a lot said in how you looked at each other.

After the movie, it was like the floodgates opened. All those news outlets who had given up on a statement from you were suddenly pounding at your door, staking out your driveway, emailing you, emailing you, sending you letters. You hadn't felt this anxious in a long time, and you were nervous things would get bad again. You relied heavily on a prescribed medication to keep you from spiraling, but since things had been okay the doctor took you off of them. You had been okay for years, and now everything was starting to crash back in.

As much as the thought angered you, you knew how to get them to stop.

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After a lot of thinking, you had agreed to a singular interview, and only if they sent you a list of questions and stuck to the ones that you okayed.

And so there you sat, fidgeting nervously in a plush chair under studio lights. Janet was off to the side, there for emotional support.

The interviewer was a younger woman, she seemed nice, she seemed new, so you figured she would be professional, that she would stick to the questions on the page. And for the most part she did. She was polite, she asked about how you and Michael met, what it was like being married to him. And then one of the producers from offstage cleared his throat and looked at the poor girl sternly. She looked at you nervously, giving you an apologetic look.

Your chest dropped, you knew what was coming. You wanted to leave, you wanted so badly to take off out the door, but your body felt frozen in its place.

"There's a lot of speculation about that day, Mrs. Jackson. People want to know the truth. Did you have something to do with your husband's death? Did you marry him to get his money, was the love a whole scheme to become rich?"

Your mouth felt like a desert, you could feel your heart beating painfully in your chest. "No-" you breathed out, eyes stinging with tears.

"Is it true that you went crazy after he died? Were you sent to a mental hospital for help?"

The question struck something in you, and the fear was overrun with anger. "Let me ask you something. If the only person on this planet that truly understood you died while you were in the next room feeding your 6 month old baby would you be okay? A part of my soul died with him that day, do you understand what that's like? Do you understand what it's like to have to stay strong for your children when the person you loved more than life itself was taken from you? And do you know what it's like to be stalked, scrutinized, and bombarded by the same people who tried to tear down that person? No. You don't. My husband was my entire world, and when he was taken from me I was accused of being a part of it, I was followed. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I could barely breath most of the time because my world was taken from me. So do not sit there and act like you know anything about what I went through, or assume that I went crazy. Because if that happened to you, you would have gone "crazy" too." You stood up. "I think we're done here,"

"Mrs. Jackson." She called out.

"No more questions, thank you." You walked straight to Janet, taking her hand and walking out of the studio.

As you got in the car, Janet couldn't help but smile, "That was quite the official statement from you. I don't think I've heard you speak that much in 17 years."

"Yeah well, they can take their shitty journalism and shove it up their ass."

Janet smiled and reached over, grabbing your hand, "I've missed you."

You smiled and leaned your head on her shoulder. "I missed you too."

Michael practically slid into the room, balancing a large bowl of popcorn in one hand, and a tub of ice cream in the other. "I'm here! What's happened? Did I miss anything?" He set the snack down and fell back into the couch, eyes already glued to the screen.

You shook your head, "No no, they're just playing the recap, don't worry." You leaned into his side as he sat the popcorn bowl in the middle of his lap.

He shovel popcorn into his mouth as the intro played, leaning forward slightly. You watched him, holding back a laugh, as he stared at the colorful screen with wide eyes.

“Michael, baby, you know you can blink right?” You nudged him playfully.

He shook his head, “No! I could miss something!”

“Dad, you’re not gonna miss anything. I think you’re more into the show than I am.” your daughter spoke from the other part of the plush sectional, scrolling on her phone.

Without looking, Michael threw a handful of popcorn at her, “No phone, applehead. I don’t want any spoilers!”

You laughed to yourself as she rolled her eyes and put the phone away.

"So they're recoupling tonight, right?" You asked.

"Shhhhhh!" Michael waved his hand in your face dismissively.

"Wow, this show has changed you." You crossed your arms and leaned away from him.

He finally tore his eyes away from the screen, looking over at you. "I'm sorry, mama. I don't know what came over me." He opened his arms up for you again.

You smiled and settled in them, patting his chest. "It's alright, I know you're just hooked on the show."

He smiled and cuddled you close. Everyone's attention turned to the screen. It always started off relatively civil, not much talking, maybe a few cheers or disapproving hmms. But the more the episode progressed, the rowdier all of you got, especially Michael. It was like he was a live commentator, pointing at the tv, throwing up his hands, etc.

He pointed at a guy on the screen, "Oh he's a big liar! How you gonna tell your girl one thing and then do the other?! What a shmo." He shook his head.

Your daughter laughed, "I don't think I've heard anyone use the word 'Shmo' in years."

Michael shrugged, "And see now why would she believe him? She knows he's gonna go kiss that girl later!" He tossed popcorn in his mouth.

"Love makes you do silly things!" You said.

"It's been less than 2 weeks, how can she love him?" He half argued with you.

"Wow, so you're saying you didn't love me within 2 weeks of meeting me?" You smiled as he paused.

"We're different." He pulled you closer. The answer satisfied you and you turned your attention back to the screen.

During the challenge, Michael sat forward slightly, trying to predict how the teams would answer.

"Most likely to remember your coffee order? That's gotta be KC, right?" He watched as Kenzie went over and kissed Caleb. His jaw dropped slightly, "Caleb? Why?"

Your daughter spoke up, "Cause he's southern, it's like a southern hospitality thing."

"Just cause he's southern doesnt mean he's got a good memory. Plus he just got there, they don't know him." Michael rubbed his chin.

"Well, maybe they picked him so Kenzie could kiss him." You added.

"That's not the challenge! It's not kiss whoever you want, it's kiss/pie the most likely person. I should be there running the challenge." He crossed his arms.

By the time the show had gotten to the recoupling, Michael was standing and pacing. You and your daughter kept giggling to yourselves, your daughter secretly filming the whole interaction.

"Oh we know how this is going down, Melanie's gonna be so upset. Oh look at her, bless her, she already knows." He kept pacing. He nodded as Kenzie got coupled up with Caleb. He paused slightly as Jen was put with Gabriel. "I guess that makes sense, I don't really know who else she would go with, oh but Bea." He immediately resumed his pacing, eyes stuck to the tv. He stopped dead in his tracks as they announced the next couple. Sol and Sincere. "I can't watch, she's so upset." But he never looked away. "Wait, so Corbin gets to choose someone to couple up with. Obviously he's gonna pick Mel, but what's gonna happen to Bea?"

God, he looked so stressed out. He sat back on the couch, leg bouncing up and down.

"Beatriz, you are now single, vulnerable... and dumped from the island."

"NO! You're joking!? That's ridiculous! What can we do to keep her? Can we protest or something? I like her! Someone write the network!" You and your daughter burst out laughing, unable to hide it any longer. Michael turned around, hands on his hips. "This isn't funny! This is serious! Gabe really liked her and now she's gone!"

You wiped away a stray tear, "I know I know, it's just you take it so seriously!" You laughed again.

"It's a serious matter!"

"Dad, it's reality TV. They're all gonna be fine!" Your daughter tucked away her phone.

Michael sat down, "You two always gang up on me, I'm sorry I'm the only one in this family that understands what's at stake here." He eyed the two of you.

You leaned over and kissed the side of his head, "You're adorable, y'know that right?"

He seemed pleased again, shifting slightly with a smile, "Yes, I do know that, thank you."

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Of course, your daughter posted the video online. People were enthralled with how dedicated he was to the show. Many demanded to know his thoughts on the islanders, begging him to make a pyramid or make a video ranking them. Which is how he ended up asking you to help him film videos for TikTok.

You watched him from behind the camera with a big smile. You watched as he spoke passionately about his rankings and gave ample reasons as to why certain Islanders were put in their spots. It had been a long time since you had seen him speak so freely and passionately. Once he was done he looked around the camera at you.

"Do you think I said too much?" He asked.

"No, I think that was absolutely perfect, Michael." You smiled at him sweetly.

He came over and hugged you, "You'd make a great bombshell." He spoke into the crook of your neck.

"Yeah, if they had an elderly's love island." You laughed.

His eyes practically lit up, "Oh that would be awesome! And we could host! Someone get ITV on the phone now!!!"

You shook your head with laughter, "God help us."

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After people had filed out of the packed theatre, you talked quietly with Jaafar's mother, Alejandra. You didn't fail to notice Jaafar and Michael standing off quietly to the side. You could see the emotion on both of their faces, the mix of pride, gratitude, joy, relief, and love swirling around the conversation. Michael knew how hard Jaafar had worked on the role, had seen the blood sweat and tears his nephew had poured into every detail. The sight of them hugging tightly made both you and Alejandra tear up.

Having been married to Michael for around 35 years now, you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew that Michael loved the movie with every ounce of his being, not because it was spectacular or emotional, but because Jaafar had given him back some of his humanity.

People desperately wanted to know Michael's exact thoughts on the movie. They wanted to know if he was upset that things were left out or glossed over, if he thought Jaafar did him justice, just everything. You and Michael were old, you both didn't exactly want to get all dressed up and sit in a chair while being berated with questions. So when Jimmy Fallon offered to do a Zoom interview, Michael jumped on it. You had actually never seen him so excited for an interview before, it made you laugh as he explained it to you over breakfast one morning.

"It's all virtual! They said I really don't even need to set up nice lights or anythin, I can just sit on the couch and use a computer. So I can be in the comfort of our own house and I get to brag about my nephew. Isn't that awesome, mama?"

You smiled more at the nickname. Ever since you and Michael had children that was his all time favorite name for you. He always said that it reminded him of how lucky he was. "I like that, why don't people do that more?"

He shrugged, "M'not sure, but I think that's the only kind of interview I'm doin from now on." He sipped his tea.

"I think that's a wonderful idea. When is it?"

"In two days." He scraped the last bit of breakfast off his plate.

"Oh good. Oh, by the way, the kiddos are coming over later today." You watched his face light up. Your second oldest had just had their second kid, which absolutely thrilled Michael. You both often ended up watching the grand babies whenever your kids had to go out of town or just simply wanted a night off. It thrilled Michael. He loved getting to play with them and spoil them rotten.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would've gotten the bouncy house up and runnin an hour ago." He slipped his readers further up his nose.

You smiled, "Cause you know the baby is too young to go on the inflatables. Plus those two like to be indoors more than outdoors."

He nodded, "Alright, well maybe we can get some arts and crafts for the girls. Can you do the shoppy cart order delivery thingy?"

You laughed lightly and pulled your phone out, "Y'know you're gonna half to learn how to use a phone properly soon, I can't be instacarting things for you forever."

He frowned, "The light on the phone hurts my eyes!"

"Michael, I got you blue light glasses for christmas cause that's always your excuse." You smiled when he had nothing to say in return. "It's alright, I still love you even though you're horrible with technology."

"I don't get it, we're practically the same age and you know way more than me!" He crossed his arms.

"Cause I'm not as stubborn as you."

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Michael ran, well more like walked as quickly as a 67 year old can, around the living room. He was fixing up the area around him, making sure it looked great for the interview. Meanwhile, you set up the zoom.

"How do I look, mama?" He asked you.

"Like a very handsome and dapper gentleman."

"Do I look too old?"

You shook your head, "No, you look perfect." You pressed a kiss to his head. It made his body relax immediately. He sat beside you, placing a hand on your knee.

"Would you stay here with me? I'm sure they wouldn't mind you even being on camera. You keep me calm and help clear my head." He looked at you sincerely.

"Of course I will, Mikey." You squeezed his hand.

The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder on the couch, waiting to be connected to Jimmy.

His face appeared, and he smiled. "Ladies and Gentleman, please give a warm welcome to Michael Jackson and a surprise guest Y/n Jackson."

You both smiled and waved at the camera. The interview started off simple, Jimmy asking questions about your and Michael's life since retirement. You both answered honestly, saying you were absolutely loving it.

"So, Michael, I'm sure you've seen the Michael biopic?" It was just Jimmy's face on the screen, but you both knew there was an audience in front of him.

He nodded, "Yes, I have. I think I've seen it 3 times now."

Jimmy laughed, "Wow 3 times, that's a lot. So I guess you liked it?"

"I loved it? I thought everyone did an amazing job putting it together, especially Jaafar."

Jimmy smiled, "So you're happy with how he portrayed you?"

Michael eased a little bit, eyes becoming slightly glossy. "I'm more than happy. I loved every second of his performance. I'm just so proud of him."

You both heard the audience melt at his words. "So he did you justice?"

"I don't think it's about doing me justice. It's more than that to me. Yes he executed the voice and the moves, but he also gave me a new life. It wasn't an exact replication of me, and that's what I loved. I loved that he brought some of himself to the table, I mean I can see it in his eyes. He gave me something I've felt deprived of for a long time. He didn't make me this big superstar, performance machine. He gave me humanity. He really showed that there was more to me than just the dancing and performance."

You squeezed his hand. Watching him get slightly choked up. Jimmy smiled, "So you think he was the right choice?"

"He was the only choice." Michael confirmed. "I think he's the only one who would have put in that much effort. For two years he and I worked really closely together, and I could feel how bad he wanted to get things right. I don't think I would have seen that in anyone else. So yes, he was the only option."

The interview continued for a few more minutes before you and Michael waved goodbye to the camera and left the zoom. Michael sat back against the couch when you closed the computer. You sat next to him, leaning into his side. He wrapped an arm around you.

"You did great, Mikey."

"Well I had you there to calm me."

You smiled and felt your phone buzzing. Your eldest daughter had just sent you a screenshot, showing that Michael's song Billie Jean had taken the number one spot on the Billboard Hot 100. "Michael, Billie Jean is going viral... again." You laughed and showed him the phone.

He smiled, "I have a feeling there's going to be a lot more interviews we're gonna have to do."

You were a private person, which is why you had kept your relationship with Michael a secret until after you had said 'I Do.' At first you had liked that you had tricked the paparazzi into having not the faintest idea about your existence, but it seemed like they were determined to get back at you.

You sat in the back of the limo with Michael, your knee bobbing up and down anxiously as you drove through the streets. Michael was asked to go to some award show to present a couple awards. He wanted you to come with him officially as his wife. You had announced the marriage a few months ago but this was the first award show of any kind that you had been seen at publicly. He knew it was a big ask, but he wanted you by his side from now on, and who were you to say no to his pleading eyes.

Michael gently placed a hand on your knee, holding it gently, "If you keep that up you'll tear a hole in the floor of the car." He teased, trying to take your mind off what was waiting down the street.

You looked up at him, "Sorry, just nervous."

God you looked so heartbreakingly beautiful, it hurt Michael to look at you for too long. He smiled and kissed your head, "Don't apologize, baby. Y'know m'proud of you for coming with me tonight." He squeezed your knee gently.

You finally smiled, relaxing at his words, "You're too sweet to me."

"Impossible." He laughed, his hand gently grabbed your chin and guided your lips to his. You smiled into the kiss before pulling back slowly and bringing your thumb up to his lips, wiping the lipstick off his lips.

"Leave it, sweet girl. People know I belong to you now, there's no need to hide it."

You bit your lip, holding back your wide grin. He smiled and pulled you back into another kiss, this one deeper than the previous. He pulled you closer, disregarding the pull of his seat belt. Your lips moved gently against his, before trailing down to his jaw, then lower to his neck. He groaned lowly into your ear. "Y'sure know how to work me up right before we go out in public. It's criminal." He laughed breathlessly.

You blushed as you finally pulled away, satisfied with the claim you had placed on him. There were at least three lipstick prints on his neck and jaw, each matching the shade on your glossy lips. "I've had a lot of time mastering the skill." You shrugged and sat back in your seat.

He laughed and looked you up and down. He had bought you the most gorgeous black dress, it sat like silk against your skin, and perfectly matched his black leather suit. You both looked lethal. He sighed and played with the strap of your dress, "I can't wait to take this off you tonight." He smirked as he watched you flush visibly.

You eyed him for a moment, "Don't get ahead of yourself, pretty boy. We have a whole award show in front of us."

He laughed and kissed your knuckles.

The car slowly rolled to a stop, the moment breaking as screams erupted around you. He felt you tense up immediately, and he squeezed your hand, "I've got you, doll."

You took a breath and nodded. He got out on one side of the car, the screams exploding around him, you could see the flashes from the cameras going berserk. Before he could walk around to your side of the car and open the door for you, a group of paparazzi swarmed in, prying the door open. They stuck their cameras in the car without a second thought, blinding you quickly. You held your arm up, scooting to the side of the car Michael had left from. You could hear him shouting at the cameramen, telling them to back up. You looked out the back of the limo, seeing him being pushed back by his security.

Your ears were ringing, and you could feel your heart trying to escape your chest. You were pressed up against the left door, still trying to shield yourself from the right side, when the left door was yanked open.

You felt yourself being pulled from the car, but couldn't see by who, your vision blurry from all the flashing lights. Questions were being shouted at you left and right as people demanded to know anything and everything about you.

"Look over here!"

"Why have you been hiding?"

"Are you pregnant with Michael Jackson's children?"

"Did you trap him into marriage with a child?"

"Look this way!"

A hand grabbed your arm harshly, turning you to face the flashed head on. Your head felt like it was going to explode. Your eyes burned from the light and your ears rang so loud your head felt like it was being shoved against a brick wall.

Your throat felt more constricted with each question and command thrown at you. Your head couldn't keep up with anything around you, as the panic in your chest took hold of your body. You felt helpless against the crowd slowly closing in on you. It felt like being dragged underwater, no matter what you did you couldn't come up for air.

The grip on your arm was ripped away, a figure quickly standing in front of you as security shoved the man back. An arm wrapped around you, pulling you into his side, shielding you from the onslaught of flashes. You couldn't see him or hear him, but you knew his touch.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The second Michael stepped out of the car without you immediately behind him he knew he made a mistake. He didn't even have time to get to your door before he saw two cameramen rip it open and shove their cameras into the car.

The smile on his face quickly turned into something more sinister as he ran around the back of the car, "Hey! Back up!" He shouted at the group that had quickly barricaded himself from you.

Everything had happened so fast that security had mistaken him as the one in need of help. They quickly flanked him, pushing him further from you. He tried shoving past them, growing angrier as more cameras flashed into the limo. "Get away from the car!" he shouted angrily before turning to the two security guards, "Get them to back up, my wife is in the car!"

They quickly scrambled to the side he had been trying to reach, pushing people away. He heard more shouts and looked over to see a man yanking your terrified form from the car.

Michael could've killed the guy. Two more security guards saw the look in his eye and grabbed his arms as he tried to get to you. They knew that if Michael got his hands on that guy things would be bad. Michael felt like he was going to go crazy if he didn't get to you. He could see the way your chest was constricting your airflow. The questions being shouted at you sent him over the edge. He yanked himself free from security's grip.

"Get your filthy hands off her." He growled at the man who was still holding onto you. His hands tore the man away, Bill quickly stepped in between him and the cameraman.

"Get her inside now." Bill nodded toward you.

It took every fiber of Michaels being not to jump the smug guy, but one glance down at you and he pulled you close. He wrapped an arm around you, hand shielding your face as he moved through the crowd easily. People quickly stepped out of his way, seeing what had gone down and seeing the murderous look on his face. He led you into the building. The security that had been hired at the venue quickly led the two of you to a green room backstage, seeing what had gone down.

Michael led you to the couch, carefully kneeling in front of you. Once the door shut he gently pried your hands away from your face.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Everything was quiet now. You didn't know where you were, but you knew it was quiet and it was with Michael. After a moment he took your hands away from your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut, mascara running down your cheeks.

Michael's smooth voice spoke barely above a whisper, "I'm here, baby. Look at me, please. Let me see those gorgeous eyes."

You slowly opened them, your vision slowly coming back into focus. Your eyes settled onto Michael's face, twisted in concern. Your breathing was shallow, your lungs burning for air.

Michael cupped your face, "Baby, breathe with me, okay? Breathe." He took in a long breath, and held it for a second before letting it out. You followed him, breathing in and out slowly until your heart rate had returned to normal. Your bottom lip quivered slightly as you tried not to cry anymore. Michael's heart twisted, "It's okay, doll. Let it out." He pulled you into his arms.

The second his arms wrapped around you, it was like your body let go of all the tension. You melted into his arms, slipping off the couch and into his lap, head against his chest as you cried quietly. It wasn't loud or violent, it was so painful that there was almost no sound at all. Michael held you against him, rubbing your back, and whispering sweet things into your ear.

After you had calmed down you slowly pulled back, sniffling, "How bad is my makeup?"

He took a good look at you. Despite the runny mascara, and the tear stains you looked like a heartbreaking dream. "You're still the most gorgeous creature in the universe."

You choked out a laugh and gently wiped your cheeks. Michael helped you get the mascara off your face, holding your face in his hands afterwards. "I'm so sorry, baby."

"It's not your fault, Michael." You fixed a wrinkle in his suit.

"No but that should not have happened. I am going to have some serious talks with my heads of security as well as the security at this venue. That was unacceptable, I've never in my entire career seen anything like that."

"Mike, it's okay. Really, I'm okay." You cupped his face.

He shook his head, "Like hell that was okay. I couldn't even get to you! Some dick grabbed you, I swear I'll send his ass to jail for touching you like that." His face became stern. It made you smile, seeing how protective he was over you.

"There's no need for that, Michael. I'm sure Michael Jackson screaming at him was punishment enough." You tried to bring him back to earth.

"Not if I have anything to say about it. He's lucky I didn't snatch that fucking camera out of his hands and smash it on the ground."

You grabbed his chin and kissed him, bringing his mind back to the present. "Michael, all that matters is that you got me out of there. I don't want to give them the power of ruining our night."

He nodded a bit, blood starting to cool down as he looked at you. He kissed the tip of your nose and then your forehead. "You're right. Now let's get out there so I can show off my beautiful wife." He stood up, guiding you up with his hand. He walked the two of you out of the room and into the banquet hall. His hand stayed at the small of your back. Before entering the awards room you leaned up and whispered in his ear.

"You're getting something extra special for being so sexy and heroic for me."

You could feel the grip on your champagne glass threatening to crush the poor crystals. Your eyes narrowed on him after he had interrupted you for what felt like the millionth time, the other two celebrities looked between the two of you nervously. They weren't sure what had caused this kind of tension so quickly, but they wanted out. They politely excused themselves, leaving you and Michael, staring daggers at each other.

You waited patiently for him to say whatever it was that was making him so moody, but you were met with silence. You scoffed lightly and rolled your eyes, "Fix your face, those sunglasses aren't hiding anything." You brushed past him, shoulder bumping into his. It sent a wave of heat through the both of you silently.

You left the party after that, a silent vendetta against the global superstar settling into your chest. The vendetta wasn't the only thing lingering on your heart, unbridled desire mixing dangerously with hatred.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Michael watched you leave the party, his shoulder felt like it was on fire. His jaw was so tight he thought his teeth would be ground down to nothing by the time you left his eye sight.

You were a minxy little thing, and he hated it. He hated that you had so easily tricked the public into thinking you were this sweet little princess when behind closed doors you were really a snobby brat.

He had heard your entire tantrum earlier. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but Diana had come up to him and told him that you had asked to see him before the award ceremony started. Something about needing a pep-talk since it was your first time presenting an award. As he approached the holding room where you and your manager sat, he could hear your hypnotic voice talking angrily.

"God, he's such a flirt, it's ridiculous! I mean you saw the way he got handsy with me, it was disgusting! He really thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread, well he's in for a rude awakening. In a year people won't even remember his name." You spoke fiercely, groaning as you thought about the handsy actor that was presenting the award with you.

Michael thought back to when he had spoken to you just a little earlier, how he had put a hand on the small of your back to gently steer you away from people who weren't looking where they were going. Was he being flirtatious... yes, but he didn't think it was so bad that you were disgusted with him. He bit the inside of his cheek, he was trying to be a gentleman, but maybe he should have just let you get knocked off your feet. Maybe that would have taken your ego down a notch. I mean how self centered you were that you thought that he was desperate for your attention. And how self righteous were you that you thought it was okay to pray on his downfall? He immediately pivoted on his heel, walking away from the room, you clearly didn't need a pep talk from him if that's how you felt.

He took his seat in the awards room, pride raging through his body. He had fallen for the little act you put on around others, but now he knew the truth, and he hated how ugly it was. But what he hated most was that a large part of him had been trying his hardest to get your attention. But that was before he knew what you were really like. It should have made him feel better, made him want you less, but it didn't. His body still longed to be close to yours.

He watched as you presented the award, eyeing the actor standing next to you. He rolled his eyes, clearly you thought every man was just dying to get your attention. What was worse is that the guy clearly was. Oh god that made him even angrier. He hated the idea that you were probably thinking to yourself about how much men wanted you, and he hated that you were right.

His eyes trailed down your body as you left the afterparty, he couldn't help himself, and that only added fuel to the fire in his heart. His eyes found your hips, watching them sway naturally as you walked towards the exit. He couldn't help himself as he watched your hair swish softly behind your shoulder. Almost as if you were mocking him, waving goodbye with nothing but the back of your head.

Quincy eyed the man whose breathing had turned ragged as you disappeared out the doors of the venue. He nudged Michael, "Mike... Mickey.... Michael!" He snapped his fingers in front of Michael's face.

Michael blinked and looked at Q, "What?" He demanded harsher than he meant to.

"You look like you're a lion stalking its prey, man. If you like her just go talk to her, don't ogle at her."

"I do not like her, and I was not ogling." He said it too quickly, even he didn't believe himself.

"Right, and I guess next you're gonna say Jermaine is your favorite brother?"

Michael glared at Q, angry that he had been caught.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Michael couldn't get you out of his head after that. Each time he saw your name on a magazine, heard your name on the news, heard your voice on the radio, he felt the hatred grow more and more. It had lit a fire in his chest. But people always say where there is desire there's gotta be a flame. So as that fire grew hotter, so did his want, no, his need for you.

It was a vicious cycle, more hate led to more need, which only made him hate you more, and round and round it went. He couldn't do anything without feeling bombarded by your essence, it was suffocating yet he wanted more.

What drove him crazy was the idea that you had this effect on him and probably hadn't given him a single thought.

Boy, was he wrong.

The more you saw of him the more your confused resentment built up. Each award show, each party, each time someone muttered his name, it was like a hole opened up and swallowed everything that wasn't him. It was driving you crazy, but you couldn't get enough. You secretly loved the thrill. You loved seeing him tense up whenever you stepped in a room, you loved seeing his jaw muscles flex as you walked by. You absolutely delighted in the fact that his hands would ball into tight fists when you talked to other guys, especially guys his age. You couldn't help yourself from letting visions of his big hands on you plague your mind. You wanted him to come up behind you and grab you by the waist, the wrist, the arm, hell even the back of your neck, and lead you away from whichever sad guy you were talking to. But what you loved most of all, is how you could feel him watching you. His sunglasses did nothing to hide his piercing gaze, and you could feel everywhere it went.

Despite the fun you felt, you also felt like you were being tormented. You still had no idea why he was acting like this. You couldn't help but think maybe you had done something? Maybe that small interaction you had completely turned him away from you, or the idea of you. It stung more than you had liked to admit. It was ridiculous, you had only ever had one real conversation with the guy, and yet your mind was reeling over every detail of it, searching for the key to his hatred. It made you feel silly, it made you feel desperate (which you were).

This little game of toying with each other had been going on for over a year. Everything was building up, the hate, the resentment, the confusion, the anger, the sadness, the want, the need. And then it all came crashing down.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

It was like fate had planned the whole thing, because here you were at another after party for the same award show exactly a year ago. Luckily you got to enjoy this one, no stress of presenting, no handsy co-presenter... or so you thought.

You stood with a group of other singers, you could feel Michael watching you from just across the room. Diana Ross was standing next to him, clinging onto him like he was the fountain of youth. She was talking his ear off, and it was evident he wasn't paying a lick of attention.

You had grown tired of this little game between you two. You had started to think it was less of a game and more like he actually hated you so much that it made him viscerally upset at the mere sight of you.

You did your best to ignore his stares, trying to focus on anything that wasn't him. In the process of doing that you felt a hand slide around your waist like a snake. You looked up to find yourself staring up at the same guy who you presented with last year, the handsy one, Rob. You tried stepping away, giving him a polite smile.

His grip tightened around you, and he pulled you closer, his head leaning down to your ear. You could smell the whisky on his breath, it made you sick to your stomach.

"Rob, please let go of my waist." You placed a hand on his chest, trying to keep as much distance as possible between you and the drunkard.

He laughed, and it made your stomach tighten with unease. "Why would I let go when I just found myself the prettiest little piece of ass in here?" His hand moved lower.

You shoved at him as best you could, pushing him backwards. The motion sent his drink spilling down his chest. He looked at you angrily. "You little bit-"

You slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you ever touch me like that again. I put up with your grab hands last year, but I sweat to god Rob if you try anything like that ever again with me or another woman I will end your shitty career."

Michael was halfway to you when you slapped the man. He halted in his stride, watching with everyone else as you yelled at the guy. Put up with him last year?

Michael's heart sank in realization. You weren't talking about him, you had never been talking about him.

He watched you quickly walk past, eyes slightly glossy, as you made your way to the door. He gently grabbed your arm. "Hey are you-"

You pulled yourself free, "Stop it, Michael. I can't deal with this right now." You continued to the door.

Michael looked torn, on one hand his physical body wanted nothing more than to knock a few teeth out of the slimy guy, but his heart was practically begging him to follow you.

He turned on his heels and followed you out of the grand room, rushing to catch up with you. "Wait, Y/n, slow down!" He jogged up to you.

"Go away, Michael." You kept walking, refusing to look at him.

He took hold of your arms, stopping the two of you in the dim hallway. "Just wait a minute!" He pleaded slightly. "Just- are you okay?"

"Stop it! Stop doing this to me!" You pulled away from him.

"Doing what to you!?"

"Stop the double act, okay?? It's confusing! Just hate me with your full chest! Don't try playing with my emotions anymore, I'm over it." You breathed heavily.

His breath caught slightly, watching you, holding you steady in his hands. "I don't hate you." His voice was raw.

You looked up at him, his scent easing your stance. "What? Then why do you glare at me, why do you tense up when I walk by, why do you act like I'm this evil person?"

"Because I wanted you to be." He confessed. "I wanted you to be horrible so that all these suffocating things I feel for you would go away. I wanted a reason to hate you so I could get over you. But I can't. You are impossibly addictive."

His face was inches from yours. You stared up into his eyes and into his heart. You found that same flame you had been carrying for him buried deep in his chest. You saw all of that desire you had thought was one sided rushing forward like a flood. And then you saw yourself in his eyes, you saw yourself the way he saw you, you saw desire embodied.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, crashing your lips onto his. He immediately met you with the same intensity, everything he had been holding back rushing out all at once. He pulled your body against his, leaving no space for any hesitation. He gripped your waist like if he let go you would slip right through his hands.

Your hands grabbed at him everywhere, trying to find the best place to anchor yourself. He walked you backwards, your back hitting the wall hard. The force knocked the air out of your lungs, your mouth gasping for air. Michael didn't waste the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You grabbed at his hair, tugging it. He let out a groan in response, which only prompted you to pull more.

You stayed there for a while, panting into each other's mouths, bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces, and desire washing away any anger or resentment that lingered.

You were the first to pull back, Michael trying to chase your lips. "Michael." You breathed out his name, catching his attention.

He looked at you, his big brown eyes hazy. "Yeah?"

"Tell me this is real. I don't want this to be a one time thing. I don't want this to be out of pent up anger. I want it to be more than that. It feels like more than that. Tell me you feel it too." You met his gaze.

He saw the scared look in your eye, he saw how vulnerable you had made yourself to him in that moment. "I feel it too, I feel every bit of it and maybe even more." He assured you, gently. His voice takes on a softer tone.

You nodded and pulled yourself into his chest, hugging him. "Why did you pretend to hate me?"

"Because I thought I had heard you talking about me... and it made me upset that you could say such hurtful things and still have my heart captured." He hugged you to his chest.

You placed your chin on his bicep, looking up at him, "You thought I was talking bad about you? When?"

"It was actually last year exactly. It was this award show, and Diana told me you had asked to speak to me before presenting. And when I came by I heard you talking about some guy who had been flirting with you, and I thought it was me."

The realization dawned on you. That's why he had been so different at the afterparty. "I wasn't talking about you! I was talking about that di-"

"Rob, yeah... I kind of just put that together." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I also didn't ask Diana to bring you to me." You frowned.

Michael nodded again, "Yeah, I figured that too... Diana she can be... controlling, manipulative, she's a lot."

"She's old." You stated simply. It made Michael laugh loudly, the smile staying on his face as he looked at you.

"I'm sorry I hurt and confused you. I just, I honestly thought I was the only one feeling so strongly about it."

"No, I did too. You're incredibly attractive when you're trying to pretend you hate me." You smiled, watching him blush.

"And you're incredibly hard to hate when you look like that all the time." He pressed a kiss to your lips.

"Well now you don't have to pretend to hate me, and I don't have to pretend I don't want your hands all over me." Your hand slid back into his curls.

Michael smirked, his hands starting to move, "That can easily be arranged."

You smiled and let him lead you out of the forgotten party.