#michael fics

it started with the long nights at the studio and the quiet afternoons at the jackson estate. being the daughter of someone as loyal as bill meant your life was naturally woven into theirs. while your father was busy ensuring the family’s safety and logistics, you were usually tucked away in a corner of the living room with a book, or more often than not, trailing behind michael.

you two had been inseparable since the move to la. you were the one person who didn’t want anything from him other than his company, and for michael, that was everything. you knew him before the world truly claimed him—before the glitter of the off the wall era really took flight. to you, he was just mike: the boy who loved magic tricks, old movies, and feeding the deer on the property.

the dynamic was always lively, to say the least. living—or at least spending most of your waking hours—around five brothers meant there was never a dull moment. but lately, the air felt different.

jermaine would always find a reason to lean against the doorframe when you walked by, flashing a slow, charming smile that lingered just a bit too long. jackie started making jokes about how "stunning" you were becoming, playfully nudging you whenever you sat down for dinner. marlon was constantly "accidentally" brushing his shoulder against yours or finding excuses to hold your hand while showing you a new dance step.

you, being as oblivious as you were loyal, just brushed it off as them being their usual, boisterous selves. they were like family, right?

michael saw it all. he watched from the shadows of the hallway, his fingers nervously drumming against his thigh. he knew his brothers' "tactics" better than anyone, and seeing them turn that charm on you made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't quite explain yet.

you were sitting on the edge of the fountain out front, waiting for your father to finish up a meeting, when michael finally stepped out. he didn't look like a global superstar in his simple corduroy trousers and a soft sweater, but his eyes held a weight you hadn't seen before.

"they're doing it again, you know," he murmured, sitting down beside you, his voice barely a whisper above the sound of the splashing water.

"doing what, mike?" you asked, tilting your head.

he let out a soft, frustrated huff, looking at his shoes. "flirting with you. my brothers. they think they're being subtle, but they're not. and it's driving me crazy because they don't know you like i do."

you blinked, looking from michael back toward the house where the light was spilling out from the kitchen windows. you could see the shadows of his brothers moving around inside, laughing and jostling each other.

"mike, you’re overthinking it," you said softly, reaching out to pat his knee. "they’re just being playful. you know how they are—always joking, always trying to get a reaction. they don't mean anything by it. i'm just bill's daughter to them, the girl who’s always been around."

michael didn't look convinced. he shifted closer to you on the edge of the stone fountain, the sound of the water filling the silence between you. "it’s not just jokes, and you know it. when jermaine 'happens' to be in the hallway every time you leave the room, or when marlon tries to teach you those dance moves just so he can hold your waist... that’s not just being a family friend."

you laughed, a light sound that usually made him smile, but his expression stayed serious. "well, even if they are being a little extra lately, it doesn't matter. i don't see them that way at all. it’s actually kind of funny that you’re the one getting worked up about it. i’m fine, really. i can handle a few cheesy lines from jackie."

"i just don't like it," he muttered, his voice sounding small. he picked at a loose thread on his sweater, refusing to meet your eyes. "it feels different now. everything is changing so fast. the music, the move to la, the way people look at us... i just wanted one thing to stay the same. i wanted us to stay the same."

you tilted your head, trying to catch his gaze. "nothing is changing between us, mike. i'm still me, and you're still the only one i actually want to spend my afternoons with. who cares if your brothers are being flirty? they’ll get bored and move on to the next girl who actually falls for it."

michael finally looked up, his big brown eyes searching yours. he looked like he wanted to say something else—something much heavier—but he held it back. he just bit his lip and nodded slowly.

"i hope you're right," he whispered, though the way he was looking at you made it clear he didn't think his brothers were the only ones whose feelings were shifting. "just... be careful. they can be pretty persistent when they want something."

"i'll be fine, bodyguard jr.," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "now come on, your dad is going to wonder where you disappeared to, and my father is probably looking for me to head home."

as you stood up to leave, you didn't notice the way michael lingered for a second, watching you walk away with a look of quiet longing that had absolutely nothing to do with being "just friends."

the next few days at the estate only made things more tense. every time you walked into a room, it felt like a spotlight followed you, and not the kind michael was used to.

you were in the kitchen helping make some tea when jermaine walked in, leaning against the counter much closer than necessary. "you know," he started, his voice smooth like silk, "i was thinking of heading out to that new club later this week. a girl like you shouldn't be stuck in this house all the time. you need to see the city lights."

you gave him a polite smile, moving to the other side of the island to grab some sugar. "thanks, jermaine, but you know i usually stay back with my dad or hang out with mike. i’m not really a club person."

"maybe you just haven't gone with the right person yet," he countered, flashing that practiced grin.

from the doorway, you heard a sharp throat-clear. michael was standing there, his arms crossed over his chest, looking uncharacteristically annoyed. "don't you have a rehearsal to get to, jermaine?"

jermaine just laughed, putting his hands up in mock surrender before strolling out, throwing you one last wink. as soon as he was gone, michael stepped into the kitchen, his energy practically buzzing with frustration.

"see?" he said, his voice low. "that wasn't 'just being friendly.' he’s trying to take you out."

"he was just being nice, mike! he thinks i'm bored," you argued softly, stirring the tea. "why are you so on edge lately? you're usually the calmest person i know."

michael grabbed a glass but didn't fill it with anything. he just held it, his knuckles turning slightly white. "because it’s everywhere. even marlon was asking me yesterday if i thought you had a boyfriend back in gary. they’re circling you like you’re... like you’re something they can just win."

you sighed, setting the spoon down and stepping closer to him. "hey. look at me. i’m not a prize, and i’m not interested. i’ve told you a hundred times, i’m here for my work and for our friendship. why does it bother you so much if they’re being silly?"

he looked down at you, the golden kitchen light catching the curls falling over his forehead. he looked like he wanted to scream it—to tell you exactly why it hurt to see them look at you—but he just tightened his jaw.

"it just bothers me because you deserve better than their games," he managed to say, though his eyes were saying something completely different. "i just want you to be respected."

"i am respected," you insisted, giving his arm a playful squeeze. "now stop being so moody. we’re supposed to listen to those new demos tonight, remember? just you and me. no brothers allowed."

a tiny, reluctant smile finally broke across his face, but it didn't reach his eyes. "just us," he repeated, the words sounding like a promise he was desperately trying to keep to himself. "i like the sound of that."

later that evening, the house had finally quieted down. the brothers had drifted off to different parts of the estate or gone out, leaving the recording room at the back of the house bathed in a dim, blueish light. the air smelled like expensive leather and the faint scent of the incense michael liked to burn when he was feeling creative.

michael was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the sofa with his eyes closed, listening to the raw track of a new song. you were perched right next to him, your shoulder brushing his every time you leaned in to check the lyrics written in his messy scrawl on the notepad between you.

"this part," you whispered, pointing to a line about dancing until the morning light. "it’s magic, mike. people are going to lose their minds when they hear this."

he opened his eyes and looked at you, a genuine, soft smile finally gracing his lips. for a moment, the tension from the kitchen was gone. "you really think so? i want it to feel like... like an escape. like nothing else in the world matters except the rhythm."

"it does," you assured him. "i can feel it."

the moment was perfect until the door swung open, and jackie walked in, still wearing his sunglasses even though it was night. "there she is," he joked, ignoring michael entirely and coming to sit on the other side of you. "i was wondering where you’d disappeared to. you’ve been hiding in here all night."

"we’re working, jackie," michael said, his voice clipped and cold.

jackie just chuckled, reaching over and playfully ruffling your hair. "working hard or hardly working? you know, i’m going for a drive tomorrow morning. thought you might want to come along, see the coast. get some fresh air away from mr. serious over here."

you felt michael stiffen beside you. his entire body went rigid. you quickly tried to smooth things over, giving jackie a small, awkward smile. "that’s sweet, jackie, but i promised mike i'd help him organize these tapes tomorrow. maybe another time?"

jackie shrugged, unfazed. "suit yourself. but the offer stands. you’re way too pretty to spend all your time in a dark room with dusty tapes." he leaned in close, his voice dropping to a theatrical stage whisper. "don't let him bore you to death, okay?"

once jackie finally left, the silence in the room felt heavy. michael didn't move. he just stared at the tape deck, his chest heaving slightly.

"mike?" you said softly, reaching out to touch his hand.

he pulled his hand away quickly, standing up and crossing the room to the window. "i can't do this," he muttered, his back to you. "i can't just sit here and watch them do it over and over again."

"he was just being jackie!" you stood up, feeling frustrated now. "why are you taking it so personally? i said no! i always say no. doesn't that tell you something?"

michael turned around, his face a mask of hurt and hidden anger. "no, it doesn't tell me enough! it tells me you’re nice and you’re loyal, but it doesn't stop them from trying. and it doesn't stop me from..." he choked off the words, shaking his head.

"from what?" you stepped closer, searching his face. "from what, michael?"

he looked like he was vibrating with the effort of holding it in. "from wishing i was the only one who had the right to be in your space. they treat it like a game, but for me... it’s not a game. it’s never been a game."

he looked away, his jaw tight. "forget it. let's just finish the demo."

the rest of the session was quiet—too quiet. michael kept his head down, focusing intensely on the soundboard, his fingers moving over the sliders with a precision that felt almost robotic. you sat back on the sofa, watching him, but for the first time in years, you weren't actually listening to the music.

you were replaying his words in your head. for me... it’s not a game. it’s never been a game.

was he just being protective? or was it something deeper? you started thinking back over the last few months. the way he’d always save the seat next to him for you. the way he’d remember the most random details about your childhood in gary. the way he looked at you when he thought you weren't looking—not with the flashy, confident smirk jermaine gave you, but with a sort of soft, aching vulnerability.

your heart skipped a beat, and you suddenly felt very warm in the air-conditioned room.

"mike?" you whispered, your voice cracking just a little.

"yeah?" he didn't turn around. he was adjusting a dial that didn't really need adjusting.

"do you... do you really think i don't see what's happening? with everyone?" you stood up and walked over to him, stopping just a few feet away. "i mean, i know i act like it’s nothing, but... are you saying you think i should be taking it seriously?"

he finally let his hands drop from the board. he turned slowly, his face half-hidden in the shadows of the studio. "i'm saying that i don't like sharing your time with people who don't value you the way i do. they see a beautiful girl. i see... i see my everything."

he froze as soon as the words left his mouth. his eyes went wide, and he looked like he wanted to pull the air back into his lungs. you felt the world shift on its axis. everything. he didn't say "my friend." he didn't say "my sister."

"michael..." you breathed, taking a step closer.

the confusion that had been clouding your brain for weeks was starting to lift, replaced by a sudden, sharp realization. the reason you hadn't cared about jermaine's flirting or jackie's invitations wasn't because you were oblivious. it was because none of it felt real. none of it felt like this. the heat radiating off michael, the way his breath hitched when you got closer—this was real.

you reached out, your hand trembling slightly, and brushed your fingers against his wrist. his skin was burning.

"is that why you've been so upset?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the hum of the equipment. "not because of them... but because of you?"

michael looked down at your hand on his wrist, then back up at your eyes. the wall he’d built up all evening was crumbling. he didn't pull away this time. instead, he turned his hand over, interlacing his fingers with yours, his grip tight and desperate.

"i’ve been trying so hard to be the 'good friend,'" he admitted, his voice trembling. "i didn't want to push you. i didn't want to be another jackson brother trying to move in on you. but watching them... it was killing me. because i’ve waited so long, and i was so scared that if i didn't speak up, one of them would eventually convince you."

you looked at your joined hands, then up at him, a small, realization-filled smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "michael, you're so literal sometimes. you really thought i’d choose a club date with jermaine over a night in the studio with you?"

he let out a shaky, nervous laugh, his eyes never leaving yours. "i don't know. i’m not as smooth as they are. i just have my music... and i have you. and i really, really don't want to lose the second one."

the air in the room felt different now—thicker, sweeter. you realized you were leaning in, and he was too. the distance between you was disappearing, and for the first time, you weren't thinking about bill, or the brothers, or the off the wall release. you were just thinking about the boy who had been your best friend, and how much you wanted him to be so much more.

the silence in the studio was no longer heavy; it was warm, like a soft blanket wrapped around the both of you. you could hear the faint, rhythmic ticking of the tape reels spinning in the background, but everything else had faded away.

michael’s thumb traced small, nervous circles over the back of your hand. he looked down at your joined fingers, a shy smile finally tugging at his lips—the kind of smile he usually reserved for his most private moments.

"you're really serious?" he whispered, his voice sounding breathless. "about them not standing a chance? i mean, jermaine... he’s got that look, and jackie... he’s got the car, and the—"

"michael joseph jackson," you interrupted, stepping into his personal space until your chest was inches from his. you looked up at him, your heart doing a frantic dance of its own. "stop listing your brothers. they aren't you. they don't look at the stars the way you do, and they definitely don't make me feel like... like this."

"like what?" he asked, his voice dropping to a velvety hush. he leaned down just a fraction, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips and back again.

"like i'm the only person in the world who matters," you admitted, your own voice trembling now. "you’ve been looking out for me since the day we moved here. you’re the one i want to talk to at 3:00 am, and you’re the only one whose opinion i actually care about. it was always you, mike. i think i was just too scared to admit it because i didn't want to lose my best friend."

michael let out a long, shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it for years. "you could never lose me," he promised. "i'm stuck to you like glue. my brothers are going to be so annoyed when they find out."

you giggled, the tension finally breaking. "oh, they’re going to be unbearable. jermaine is going to try to give you 'advice' and marlon is going to tease us for the next ten years."

"let them," michael said, his confidence suddenly returning now that he knew where you stood. he reached up with his free hand, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your knees weak. his touch was light, but his gaze was intense. "let them talk. they can have the clubs and the cars. as long as i have this."

he didn't kiss you yet—it was michael, after all, and he lived for the quiet, soulful build-up—but he leaned forward until his forehead rested against yours. you could feel the warmth of his skin and the rapid beat of his heart through his sweater.

"just promise me one thing," he murmured, his eyes closing as he breathed in your scent.

"anything," you replied.

"don't tell bill yet," he joked, a hint of his old mischievous self peaking through. "i don't think your dad is ready to see me as anything other than the kid who follows you around."

you laughed softly, leaning into him, feeling more at home than you ever had in the giant mansion. "deal. but you’re going to have to be a better actor, mike. because the way you’re looking at me right now? the whole world is going to know."

he just hummed in response, pulling you into a proper hug, his arms locking around your waist as he pulled you tight against him. for the first time in weeks, the jealousy was gone, replaced by a quiet, steady glow that felt like the beginning of a whole new era.

Your hotel suite buzzes with activity as stylists, assistants, and various team members mill about the room, keeping a tight schedule as the evening’s music awards event draws near. You’re a plus one for the night, but hold an even greater role as Michael Jackson’s longtime girlfriend.

You fiddle with the ring resting on your left finger, staring blankly at the vanity placed in front of your chair. The ring’s weight still feels heavy; you’ve only just started wearing it daily this past week. You glance down at your hands, flexing your fingers. The large diamond fits perfectly, and you study it like you haven’t been staring at it so often that you’ve memorized every single reflective piece that bounces off the light.

One thing about your boyfriend: he has taste, and he knows exactly what you love.

Correction: not boyfriend. Fiancé.

A bead of sweat trickles down your back.

You swallow dryly and look back up at the mirror. Your makeup artist, Donna, has been rambling on about something you haven’t paid attention to. It takes you a second to hone in on the gentle undulation of her voice and catch onto what she’s saying.

“—And Marv, well, he’s doing better now, but the kids are getting crazier as they get older. You know what I mean?”

You blink slowly, take another second to settle in, and nod.

“Um, yeah, for sure, Donna.”

Donna gives you a knowing look before rolling her eyes and continuing to powder your face. You catch a playful glint in her expression as she eyes you in the mirror.

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?”

You duck your head sheepishly and shrug. “Sorry. Got a lot on my mind.”

“Yeah?” She asks, moving on to work on your eyes. “Like that big rock on your finger?”

Your eyes flit away and then back at Donna’s reflection. You smile, bashful, and nod.

Donna chuckles. “Congrats, honey. Don’t think I got a chance to say it before.”

You glance down. “Thank you. We… I mean Michael and I, we haven’t really said anything yet.”

“Everyone knows, sweetie,” Donna chides playfully. She swipes some product onto your lids. “We were all wondering when he’d finally ask.”

You chuckle. “I know, it’s kind of been a long time coming. We feel ready now. It’s just…”

You trail off again, feeling a pit grow in your stomach. You start to fiddle with the ring again.

Donna fills the silence. “The press still don’t know?”

The grimace on your face appears immediately. “No. There’s no better way for them to find out than tonight, I guess.”

Donna nods without reply, finishing her work on your eyes. She gestures at you to look up. You study the look: neutral colors with a touch of rose, the same shade as your blush. The color palette compliments your brown eyes and medium skin tone, just the way you like it. Donna added a gold line on top of your black eyeliner, a simple touch to elevate the look. You nod and smile at her.

Donna does the finishing touches as she speaks again. “So how are you two going to approach the big reveal?”

You sigh. “Well, we haven’t really discussed it. I think we both mutually agreed that we just wouldn’t say anything unless someone asks us directly. Michael has a ring too; he says he got it just because he liked it, but I know he wanted to join in the engagement somehow.”

Saying that out loud brings a small smile to your face. Michael was just sweet like that. He never wants you to feel alone in what you two do together. Donna smiles as you talk.

“That’s wonderful, honey. Well, I’m wishing you both godspeed tonight. Just hold onto each other, like you always do.”

Donna squeezes your shoulder. You reach over to touch her hand briefly and look up at her, smiling. She pats you and finishes your makeup off with your lips.

You get dressed after your hairdresser comes over to adjust the small kinks in your updo. Your dark hair is pinned up in a messy bun, styled to look effortless and clean. You glance at the closed door. Michael’s on the other side, and you have yet to see him since you both started getting ready. You let out a slow, deep breath as more of your team flutters around you like birds, fussing over every small thing they notice needs fixing. After a few minutes, your assistant Charlie motions at you to stand.

“I’ll help you get your shoes on,” She chirps.

You smile, grateful. “Thanks, Char.”

You hold onto the back of the chair you sat on while slipping your feet into the gold heels. Charlie clasps them securely. When she stands, she gives you a once-over with an admiring smile.

“Stunning as always, my love. Do you want to take a peek?”

“Sure.” You walk carefully over to the mirror, testing out the heels. Slightly uncomfortable, but not totally impossible to walk in. The shoes click along the floor as a path emerges amidst the milling crowd, guiding you towards the mirror. You take your place in front of it and can’t help a small gasp escaping your mouth.

A glittering, black dress hugs your figure perfectly as it cascades down into a short train. You turn left and right, sneaking a glance at the nearly backless frame, held together by a few straps that complement your body. You run your hands along your stomach to your hips, feeling the silky material. You glance up at your torso and face, seeing body glitter shine subtly in the light and illuminating the soft features in your face.

You continue to admire the final look as you hear soft whistles and cheers sound behind you. You look around and wave people off, smiling and feeling a slight blush heat your cheeks. You don’t notice the door open off to the side and the almost immediate hush that falls over the room.

You smile at your reflection and say to no one in particular, “I think this is one of my best looks.”

“Indeed, it is.”

You turn to the side and see Michael leaning against the door frame, arms and legs crossed. He has his aviators on already, covering nearly half his face, but it still draws attention to the small half smile spread across his mouth. You glance up and down at him. He dons his armor-like leg guards on his shins atop fitted black pants, covering his staple loafers. He wears a fitted black leather vest, also shining in the light, with the collar popped open at the neck. His curls are cut short in a fluffy, stylish manner. You have the sudden urge to run your hands through them.

Michael stands out, but in the best way possible. Even after all these years, he still takes your breath away. Your smile widens as you twirl in place.

“Like what you see?”

Michael pushes himself off the door frame and walks over to you. He covers his mouth and rubs his chin slightly, laughing.

“I do. You look incredible, baby.”

That elicits a small giggle from your lips. The world hones in on the two of you as you watch Michael approach. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his shirt as he draws near. You don’t notice Charlie shooing everyone out, whispering a small, “We’ll leave you two alone for a few,” before closing the door with a soft click.

Michael goes to stand behind you and slides his hands around your waist, enveloping you in a gentle caress. He stares at your reflection with round, soft eyes, tracking your every move. You hold his gaze and lean against him like second nature. You both begin to sway back and forth involuntarily, looking at each other in the mirror. Michael leans down to kiss your shoulder above the dress strap. He straightens and catches your eye as he flashes a shy smile.

“So beautiful.”

Your blush deepens. “You look very handsome yourself.”

Michael laughs, a deep rumbling against your back. “Thank you.”

He glances down at your hands and takes your left one, his fingers grazing the engagement band. You turn towards him, still keeping close, your other hand on his chest. You both look down at the ring.

“How do you feel about tonight?” Michael asks, gentle.

You release a shaky breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. “Okay.” You rub Michael’s hand absentmindedly. His other one resting on your waist squeezes slightly. You avoid his gaze, fiddling with his jacket collar with your other hand.

“Just okay?”

Michael leans down to catch your eye, a knowing glint reflecting in his own. You chew your bottom lip and furrow your brows.

You sigh, shifting to reach both arms around Michael’s shoulders and pull him into a hug. You feel your heartbeat hammering in your chest as he pulls you close. His scent envelops your senses, calming you.

“No,” You mumble. “I’m nervous as hell.”

Michael laughs again, his embrace tightening slightly. “I am too, baby. But we’ll get through it together.”

You hum. “I know we will.”

You pull away and grab his left hand, running a finger on his own silver band and smiling. You bring your lips to it, keeping eye contact as you plant a kiss on top of his fingers and leave a lipstick stain behind. Michael’s grin stretches from ear to ear, a bashful blush tinging the top of his ears pink.

“Just don’t let go of my hand, my girl.”

You hit his chest playfully. “Never.”

Michael kisses the side of your head, careful to avoid your makeup, and slips his hand into yours as you both leave the room. He slides his aviators back on as Charlie appears next to you. She places your clutch in your hand and begins to rattle off instructions to the two of you. You nod absentmindedly as security leads you out into the hallway, to the elevator, and through the hotel lobby. As you approach the exit, you can already see the flashing lights from behind the window. Michael’s grip on your hand remains firm as you enter the frenzied crowd.

Cameras flash in your face, and the familiar chorus of excited voices and exclamations that always follow your fiancé rushes into your ears. You keep your head slightly down, focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Paparazzi and reporters call your name, Michael’s name, shoving notepads and audio recorders towards your faces. Your security team keeps a narrow path open for you to reach your car.

Michael moves behind you as you reach the open door. He helps you with your dress as you scoot inside, him following quickly behind. The door shuts immediately, drowning out most of the sound. You release a breath and find Michael’s arm again, slinking yours around it.

Michael reaches over to move a few loose strands framing your face to the side. He kisses your head again and looks down at you, adoration splashed all over his cheeks.

“Step one done,” He jokes.

You snort, which makes him laugh. “Yeah, out of a million.”

You both make idle chit chat as you drive to the event. Eventually you pull in and see an even bigger crowd of roaring fans, and numerous media outlets surround the award’s red carpet entrance. The car pulls to a stop and someone opens the door on Michael’s side. He squeezes your hand.

“Ready?”

You lean in to give him a small peck on the lips. His head follows yours as you pull back, Michael smiling softly as if wanting more. You shake your head, laughing.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Michael gets out of the car first, and the screams outside intensify. He holds his hand out to help you down. As you step fully out, you glance outward with a shy smile on your face before looking back at Michael. He takes your hand and mouths, “Hold on.” You nod as you both take off into the carpet.

You first pose to take pictures. Charlie materializes again to take your clutch from you, signaling that she’ll return it once you’re settled inside. You rejoin Michael as he poses for the cameras. His hand never leaves your waist as he guides you from one spot to the next. Near the end of the picture train, you raise your left hand to rest on Michael’s chest. You see him glance down at your peripheral, and you look up at him. He grins from ear to ear as he leans into your touch. You follow him, unable to keep your laughter in as you both lose your composure.

The frenzy behind the camera line rises to an uproar. You hear numerous exclamations of shock and joy from the crowd as Michael takes your hand again and leads you into the reporters’ section.

“Michael, is that a ring?”

“Hold up your hand, let’s see the rock!”

“Let’s see those smiles!”

You chuckle as you continue walking. A staff member speaks to Michael briefly before leading him towards the first reporter. You steel yourself and touch Michael’s arm. He leans down as you speak into his ear.

“How many reporters are we talking to today?”

Michael shakes his head. “I’m hoping only three.”

You know that’s probably wishful thinking as you station yourselves next to the first person. She’s a tall, beautiful woman sporting a big afro and wide smile. The camera crew adjusts themselves while she readies her cue cards. She looks at the two of you before rolling and greets you warmly.

“Hi, you two, welcome to the VMAs. I’m Shayla and we just have a few questions for y’all today, nothing major.”

Michael nods as you voice over a soft “okay,” and someone announces you’re live. You smile as the interviewer greets Michael first.

“Hello to the stunning couple here! Michael, could you tell us what you’re wearing?”

“Yes, well, these are custom, designed by my longtime stylists, Michael Bush and Dennis Tompkins. They’re wonderful, as you can see, and really tailor the elevated look I like.”

“Of course, you always look incredible. And you, my dear, this dress is gorgeous on you.”

You laugh. “Why, thank you. I’m wearing Versace head-to-toe.”

Shayla smiles. “Amazing. And…” She trails off, glancing down at your entwined hands. “I’m sorry, I have to ask! There’s also something shiny catching my eye on your finger. Is that what I think it is?”

You inhale deeply and flash a grin. You bring your hand up as if tucking back your hair and then rest it on your chest, breathing dramatically. “I do believe so.”

Michael covers his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he suppresses his laughter at your antics. You glance at him with mirth as Shayla lets out a not-so-subtle shriek into her microphone.

“Oh my god! Can I see the ring?”

You nod, laughing as you stick your hand out. She takes your fingers delicately, ogling the diamond before looking back at you.

“Okay, screw the cards! Congratulations! When did you propose? Did this just happen?”

You look at Michael, who nods shyly.

“Yes, this past weekend. I thought it was high time.”

He looks down at you, and you just nod back, giggling.

“So sweet,” Shayla muses. She looks at you. “And you’ve been together for a few years now, right?”

“Yes, almost four now. We’ve honestly been talking about it for a while now, but we finally bit the bullet. Actually, he finally proposed; I’ve just been waiting here.”

You point your thumb at him and roll your eyes playfully, earning a few chuckles from the camera crew and a light laugh from the interviewer. Someone from your staff signals that it’s time to move on and Shayla nods.

“Well, that’s amazing news, you two. Congratulations again and enjoy your night!”

You both give your thanks before moving along the carpet. Michael leans down to speak in your ear.

“That wasn’t too bad.”

You hit him lightly on the chest. “Don’t jinx it!”

He laughs as he leads you along. Michael stops a few times to greet the fans, mostly to avoid more interviewers. You say hi as well; most of them scream your name and unintelligible words above the noise. You just continue smiling and nodding before you’re whisked away to another interviewer close to the entrance of the awards building.

Almost there, you tell yourself. The interviewer Michael parks you next to is a middle-aged white man with a permanent smirk on his face. He looks up and down before flashing a grin. You smile politely before glancing up at Michael. You can’t see his eyes, but his jaw is set in a straight line, and you can see him gritting his teeth. His arm snakes around your waist as he pulls you in close. You don’t resist as the interview gets started.

“So, lovebirds, word travels down the carpet fast. You’re engaged? Congratulations.”

A mild tone of politeness oozes from the man’s voice. Michael nods curtly.

“Yes, thank you.”

“And you just happened to announce it first at tonight's awards show? Bold move.”

Michael answers again coolly. “Well, yes, we thought there wouldn’t be a better time.”

The man glances down at his cards and then looks up to address you. “You’ve known Michael for how many years now?”

Your polite smile feels stiff on your mouth as you reply. “About four.”

“Mm. And you’re how old again?”

You blink and tilt your head. Outrage flames in your chest, and you fight to stamp it down, praying any media training you’ve received kicks in at this moment.

“Now, sir, isn’t it improper to ask a woman of her age?” You bat your eyelashes and force your grin wider, hoping to exude witty charm rather than incredulous shock.

The man chuckles; it seems to have worked, for now. “It’s just, you seem so young. And no doubt you’ve read what folks have said about your… relationship.”

Your expression falters slightly. Oh yes—you’ve seen the headlines.

This Just In: Michael’s Hot New Fling (A Young One, At That)

Breaking News: Michael Likes Little Girls Now?!

Age Gap Love: In Fashion or Out of Style?

The content of those features is even worse. The media circus seems to know everything about you and Michael but the actual truth of your relationship. The stuff they say about you is vicious, hateful, and infantilizing, despite you being of age when you both first met. You knew what it would look like to the rest of the world, yet you underestimated just how nasty public scrutiny could get.

Michael has been through the worst, and you’ve been right by his side the whole time. You both felt less alone through everything, but it still hurt sometimes. Now, though, declaring your love and devotion proudly to the world and still being judged for it, you felt nothing other than simmering fury threatening to boil over.

But still, you forced yourself to remain calm. Tonight was Michael’s night, and yours. So you kept that smile plastered on your face and spoke through your teeth.

“Of course I’ve read everything. But I love Michael, and he loves me. We make each other happy. Now we’re engaged and can’t wait for married life together.”

You brought your hand to rest on his chest, and he grabbed it with his other, squeezing softly. He smiled down at you before frowning at the interviewer.

“I love her, and that’s all that matters.” He said firmly.

The interviewer cleared his throat and looked at his crew awkwardly. “Well then… one more question for you, Michael…”

He asked a standard question about Michael’s performance tonight, and before you knew it, you were led inside the venue. Michael greets other artists along the way to your seats in the front row. You see Janet and pull away from Michael for a moment to hug her and chat. She notices your ring and squeals in happiness, rushing to hug you once more and congratulating you.

“About time my damn brother proposes. Ahh, I’m so happy for y’all!”

“Thank you Janet, it really means a lot.”

The two of you hug again when Michael finds you. He also hugs his sister, chatting briefly before he takes your arm and guides you to your seats.

After you sit down, you slump against Michael with a groan.

“God, I thought that would never be over.”

He laughs in your ear, which sends warm tingles down your spine. Michael moves his arm to pull you against him. You nestle in closer as you let out a huff of breath. He rubs your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

“That last reporter was a dimwit. Are you okay?”

You shift to look at him. Michael’s face is inches from yours. You’re close enough that you can barely see his eyes behind his glasses, which flit all over your face, searching your expression. You give him a genuine smile, reaching over to smooth his hair back and caress the side of his face. Michael leans into your touch, breathing in deeply and giving your palm a soft kiss. You almost melt at the sight of him like this, so enamored and concerned with his beloved.

Again, the commotion around you in the auditorium disappears. Everything closes in, muffles in volume and out of focus. Your attention is locked in on the man beside you, like you’re the only two people in the world. He returns your smile and reaches over to squeeze your exposed thigh. Your breath hitches involuntarily, a blush rising in your cheeks.

You clear your throat as you reach to hold his hand. You clasp your fingers over his as you say, “I’m fine, baby. They don’t know anything about us.”

Michael nods, though his mouth remains downturned. “They really don’t. But still… They say awful stuff. The last thing I want in the world is for you to take those words to heart.”

You respond by squeezing his hand firmly. “Their words hurt sometimes. You know that; I’m only human. But Mikey, we’ve got something special. And your love gives me strength. I know who I am, and our love only gives me more courage to push through. I promise.”

Michael’s face lifts at your words. He looks down at your intertwined hands. His fingers rub tiny circles on yours as he hums.

“You help me be brave too, my girl.” Michael flashes you one of his brilliant grins, warm and blinding all at once. You can’t help but hum back in admiration and lean forward to kiss him softly.

He kisses you back, not fully leaning in, but lingering, not wanting to break apart from your embrace. You pull back slightly to give him a big smile. Michael just looks at you in wonder, drinking in your features as if you’re the only woman in the world. Everything around you suddenly rushes in again, blaring music from the speakers flooding your senses and calling your attention to the stage. You rest your hand on top of Michael’s, which never leaves your thigh the whole ceremony.

He leaves in the middle of the show to prepare for his performance, and when he steps out on stage, you already know that this would be one of his most iconic sets. The screams from the crowd and the fans on the balcony are deafening. You relish seeing him on stage, adored by everyone and looking so good. But what you love the most is how many times he searches for you in the crowd and looks in your direction. He even points a few times, cheeky and flirtatious, causing you to laugh every time.

The camera also keeps panning to you cheering and dancing in place. You don’t miss the glint of the diamond on your finger on the big screen and how Michael’s ring flashes in the stage lights. A subtle announcement, a proud declaration of your love.

Your chest swells with pure devotion. To the rest of the world, the man on stage is Michael Jackson, global superstar and legend. To you, he is the love of your life, the man you’ll spend the rest of your days with.

Michael finishes his performance with a bang and runs offstage. When he returns to your seat during commercial break, you stand up cheering for him with open arms. Michael sweeps you upward in a fierce hug and spins you in the air. You squeal, laughter escaping your body as the wind is nearly knocked out of you.

He sets you down and kisses you again, this time a little more deeply. You’re sure everyone around you is staring, but you could care less. He lingers a little longer before pulling back with a boyish grin.

“How’d I do, honey?”

“Flawless as always,” You reply, breathless. You return his expression with a bright smile and you take your seats as the show continues.

When Michael and Janet win their final award for the night, they take the stage and do their speeches. At this point, they make it short and sweet, but Michael adds a special touch to his words that shocks you with bliss.

“I won’t take too much time. Janet and I are very grateful for these awards, thank you MTV. Again, I want to thank God, my family, and especially my special lady in the front row.”

Michael points directly at you and your eyebrows raise in surprise. This is the first time Michael explicitly acknowledges you on stage all night. The camera pans to you as more screams erupt from the crowd. You blow a kiss with both hands and keep your hands on your chest. Your face hurts from how much you’re smiling, but you can’t stop.

Michael turns away in his shy manner, a soft smile on his face. Then he turns back to face you and keeps eye contact as he finishes speaking.

“You make me a better man. You’re the reason I do what I do. And I can’t wait to keep celebrating these moments with you for the rest of our lives.”

Michael blows a kiss back, his ring catching the light. Your eyes flood with tears threatening to spill, chest filling with emotion as he mouths “I love you” while walking offstage. The crowd erupts into a frenzy as the next announcers appear. They have to shout to be heard over the din. Although he didn’t say it outright, Michael might as well have told the whole world what you’ve both got coming next. And you couldn’t be happier.

Your head buzzes, feeling light and airy as Michael returns to his seat. Cheers follow him and don’t seem to settle as another commercial break returns. You turn to him as he sits down and shove him lightly.

“Real subtle, what you just did.” You tease.

Michael shrugs, biting his lower lip. You mirror him, fighting the sudden urge to pounce on him right then and there. God, you love him so much.

“What can I say baby, I just speak my truth.”

You lean to kiss his cheek and smooth his curls back. He follows your every move as you shake your head playfully.

“Well, I’m honored,” You chuckle. “I can’t wait for the rest of our lives to begin, too.”

Michael takes your hand and plants a soft, lingering kiss on the back of it. You giggle and lean into him again as the ceremony reaches its finish.

At the end of the night, you both decide to go back to your hotel instead of the afterparty. The media is a full on circus in the pick up area. Reporters from every angle yell to dish out more information about your engagement, Michael’s proposal, and when you’re getting married. The door shuts behind Michael and the car peels away, leaving the din behind as you both retreat into your own private little world for the rest of the night.

The next morning, you flip a newspaper idly as the news plays on the TV in the background. Your feet are on Michael’s lap, him running his fingers absentmindedly on your skin as he eats breakfast.

Unsurprisingly, the two of you are splashed all over the front page. The King of Pop Engaged!

“Aw look, honey, this is actually a decent press photo of us.”

You turn the newspaper towards Michael. He leans in to take a peek. You’re both looking to the side in a candid way, Michael throwing a peace sign while your hand is on your chest, smiling brilliantly in the same direction. The photo catches the ring in the perfect angle, its glint shining perfectly on paper.

“You look gorgeous, baby,” He muses, and glances playfully at you. “If I’m not mistaken, that hand placement is suspiciously placed. Almost like you planned it for the photo op.”

You snort, putting down the paper and looking at your hand in admiration. “Well, strategic maneuver or not, I just love showing this off.”

“I know you do.” Michael grabs your outstretched hand and pulls you up to stand. You give him an amused look before bursting into giggles as he twirls you in place. He sways you back and forth, your chest flush against his torso as you dance to the TV noise.

You look up at him, smiling. He returns your gaze, warm brown eyes melting into you. You turn your head to rest against his body. You hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, thrum in your ears.

“I really can’t wait to marry you,” He whispers. His voice rumbles in his chest and you look back up at him. He looks at you like it’s the first time he’s seen you—smitten and hopelessly in love. Like every time he looks at you, he sees an angel come down to earth who will change his life forever.

You laugh, bright and airy. It fills the space and lights up Michael’s expression even more. He looks lovesick, like he’s seeing the face of God. Like the only thing he wants is you.

“I can’t wait to marry you and become Mrs. Jackson.” You reply, flirty and sensual all at once.

Michael groans, helpless, and smiles as he leans down to kiss you, pulling you in as close as possible. You wrap your arms around his neck as you stand on your toes to meet him. Michael kisses you deep and slow, like he’s memorizing every part of your body with every touch. His hands grip your waist, roam underneath your shirt to graze your skin. His touch is gentle, feathery light, but feels like fire. You gasp, breathless, pulling back slightly.

At your sounds, Michael emits a deeper groan, chasing your mouth as his grip on you tightens. He swallows your gasp in another deep kiss, swollen lips enveloping you in a desperate fervor. Michael breaks apart to bend down and lift you bridal style in one sweep. You yelp, laughing as he picks you up. He kisses you sweetly as he walks towards the bedroom.

You hum into his mouth. “Mikey, we haven’t finished breakfast yet.”

“We can finish it later,” He murmurs, continuing to kiss you as he leads you to the bed.

He lays you down gently onto the covers and hovers over you, basking in your face and body below. His eyes search you, full of wonder and adoration and complete devotion.

“I love you so much, my girl.”

You gaze up at him, this beautiful man with dark curls and gentle eyes, with an even gentler soul. Your heart swells until it threatens to burst.

“I love you more, Mikey.”

Michael grins, teasing.

your breath hitches, you've never been exposed on a big screen before, and knowing that it would be in a room with multiple people and especially jaafar, the idea scared you. you weren't that kind of actress yet. heat creeping up your neck, you dart your eyes to jaafar before responding. "what kind of nudity?"

the jackson next to you doesn't look away from you, you can tell he didn't want to see you uncomfortable, but he was observing quite closely. you and jaafar knew surface level information about one another, and it was safe to say you both were aware of the age-gap between the both of you. keeping your sight forward, you look at the man while you try to ignore jaafar's gaze on you.

"topless nudity, but it doesn't have to be your full chest. we want to go with the flow, but since you're so new to this we want to…" the director looks around the room, snapping his fingers while he tries to look for the word, "protect you." he lands with, holding your eyes again. you don't see, but jaafars adams apple bobs. jaafar felt shameful about his immense attraction to you and the idea of working with you naked made him quite nervous.

you hear him out, "are you uncomfortable with an entire studio seeing you bare?" he asks, clicking his pen and lightly twisting in his chair with wheels.

you swallow, answering honestly. "i've never filmed anything where i needed to be, so yes, i think i'm a little uncomfortable."

jaafar drops his gaze, he knows that after you it would be his turn to get asked these questions.

the man pops a shoulder, "thought so, it's only natural." then he abruptly asks a question that feels out of place. "have you worn backless dresses or tops before?" he randomly questions.

you nod, "yeah."

the man gives a look to one of the writers beside him, who jots something down on a sticky note.

"y/n, we'll get back to you on this, we want you to feel as comfortable and safe in this environment as possible. i'll discuss things further with you regarding nudity later, okay?"

you smile, and jaafar makes sure to lift his eyes and see it. "of course, thank you so much. i am willing to negotiate further, and make exceptions, i don't want you to think i won't do anything at all."

the man lifts his palm, "you're sweet, but you're only so young. now," he turns to jaafar, who was rubbing his palm on his thighs. "i'm not gonna make you get naked while you portray your uncle," jaafar laughs, and you cant help but chuckle too, "but this will be a very tension-filled, sexual scene. i'm going to give you both enough wiggle room to behave however you want but this is basically the scene—"

the writers pull out a stack of stapled paper, an older woman begins reading it out.

Cameras flash all on Michael, but he was staring at [Reader's character] who stands on the sidelines, away from paparazzi and interviewers and beside Bill and Michael's manager. The audience gets a view-shot of her entire flattering, sultry dress. Michael, despite being on the red carpet, pulls away early, eager to leave.

"Blah blah blah, okay, here's the scene."

Now that Michael was finally alone with [Reader's character], it's quiet and tension is thick in the air. Michael decides to speak first. He mentions something about how [Reader's characters]'s feet must be aching from her shoes. She, feeling bold, lifts up her legs and points her feet to Michael. She asks him to take her heels off for her. Michael doesn't think twice, feeling her feet once they are off.

"now jaafar, you're going to massage her toes and when you press against the middle of her foot, y/n will moan, this will take michael by surprise, kind of—shyly, boyishly smiling."

this was all starting to settle on to jaafars shoulders, he will really have to do these things with you. he wasn't sure how he felt, outside of his nervousness, but he would be a liar if he said this didn't excite him a little.

listening to the script kind of felt like a blur for you, a moment is brought up where jaafar will have to slide his hands under your dress and off of you, exposing you, you felt lightheaded. jaafar was good-looking, of course you couldn't wrap your mind around it.

"but don't worry, y/n. we'll edit this back if you're sure that you don't want to be naked."

as the explanation went on, you realize just how close you will need to get with jaafar.

phrases like "palm him", "pull his hair", "your tongue is gonna—" were thrown around, and that was only what you had to do. jaafar was left with much more work.

"remember, michael was quite the ladies man, he knew what he was doing when he put on a soft-act, and jaafar, you will also have to."

"yeah, i think i caught on with that." he jokes and you grin. just by his tone you can tell he was just as new to this as you. you often forget that he was never an actor before the first film, you both probably felt the same exact way.

"is there anything about the scene you two want me to change?"

you and jaafar both turn to look at each other but you both decide to remain silent, it seemed you both were open minded which was great news for the production.

you shake your head at the man, and he exclaims.

"great! now, this scene will take around a few days to film despite being a short one. our intimacy coordinator suggested, since you two have never filmed a romantic scene before, that you dedicate a few days together. you know, getting comfortable with each other and practicing the scene alone together before she interferes and organizes everything. we still want there to be passion, so we're relying on you two to make that happen. don't let it get unprofessional, but loosen each other up before the production interferes and filming starts happening, okay?"

alright, now you are a little scared. a few days of just you and jaafar together and, what, having sex? based on jaafar's shy, boyish expression, you can tell he was overthinking this just as much as you were.

everyone already starts to leave but you and jaafar are still planted on your seats.

"i would suggest starting as soon as possible, we're already behind schedule, so like, today.'

today.

is this a prank?

you can't even complain, you quite literally signed up for this.

the room began to empty out and you were still there, staring at your copy of the script. so was jaafar, who immediately rubs his forehead after it's just you two now.

"i had no clue they were gonna make me do this after i accepted doing the first movie." he said, humor behind his voice.

you laugh, "yeah, i got no excuse. not sure what we're gonna do with the whole topless thing though."

he takes a moment to respond back, there was a thickness in the air now that it was just the two of you. it was to be expected, after getting a step-for-step guide on how you're gonna be having sex for the next few weeks of practicing and filming. "do ah, do we just get right into it or do you want to get to know each other better first?"

looking at the dimple on his cheek, you say "i think getting to know each other sounds better right now."

-

you burst out laughing. you were back at his apartment now and you realize he's way funnier than he lets on, the sounds of your laughing giving him a sense of pride floating in his chest.

despite him saying he doesn't drink, he makes an exception today in order to pave some room for you both. no one was exactly drunk, just tipsy.

"i mean just look at his mustache!" he doubles down and you actually feel tears forming.

"oh my god, stop, i can't breathe." you throw your head back on his couch, gasping for air as you force yourself to calm down. he can't help but laugh when you do, so you both were just giggling messes.

you make a noise that sounds like a content sigh, turning your head to look at him as silence finally settles between you two again. you notice how jaafar doesn't make eye contact with you for long, looking away every time you catch his gaze. now he looks at the empty glass cups on his coffee table and the folders beside them, but you were too busy focusing on his curls which he grew out since the last movie. his hair wasn't too long per se, just a casually messy head of curls that he looked fabulous in.

he now knows more about what kind of music you listen to and your relationship with your family, but also your personality now shined like a sun-beam outside of a work setting. he absoluetly adored you.

he tried to push the thought to the back of his mind. he felt shameful for his violating, ungentleman-like thoughts but god. he could not wait to fuck you.

jaafar picks up the folder, giving you a wide smile which makes you try to swallow down how flustered you felt.

your sight darts to the folder now in his hand, nervousness eating you up again. "i guess we gotta get to it, huh."

"nah, not right away if you don't want," he flips through it quickly before dismissing it back on the table again. "how about we just do what we remember today, and tomorrow we follow it step by step?'

still in a mood where you felt like joking, you jump straight into it.

"oh gosh, my feet, michael. they just hurt so bad…" you made up your own dialogue as you lifted your right foot, where you only had a sock on since you had taken your shoes off before entering his apartment.

already, he laughs, the sound comforting you as he scooches close to you. "nope, no i cant have that, give me your foot," he grasps it and places it on his lap, shoving your socks off and doing a surprisingly good job at massaging it.

actually, it took you by surprise how good it was, you unexpectedly shove a hand to your mouth to keep yourself from making any noises.

"awh, i didn't even get to the pad of your foot yet." he grins at you, lifting a hand to pull your own hand away from your mouth. his being significantly bigger, softer.

you remembered you were supposed to be making noise, so you just let him, but it was just a massage and despite being tipsy, you didn't want to embarrass yourself by being too vocal so you force yourself to remain quiet.

you weren't wearing a dress, so he couldn't follow the steps of sliding his hand under it and groping your thighs, so instead he goes over your pants. his hands were warm, the heat of it seeping through your material until he reached your thigh, your character spread her legs open wider, so you do too.

he moves slower for a moment, you think it's because he was trying to remember what to do next, but what you don't know was that his heart was thumping so hard in his chest he thinks you can hear it. really. jaafar was building up his courage.

slowly getting closer to you, breathing in your scent, he looks up at you with such a puppy dog expression, you almost ask him what's wrong. "i'm going to touch you over your clothes today, okay?" jaafar tells you instead of asking you.

"okay," you respond softly, his character was supposed to grope your actual body, but jaafar barely even hovers above your clothed breast. he was so nice, it began frustrating you. you understand this was your job, but you were both new to this and you couldn't change how you feel at this moment.

"jaafar," your voice above a whisper, the humorous environment quickly shifting to exactly what the production was thinking when they wrote out this scene. jaafar looks back at you with his brown, sweet eyes. "i know you can tell i'm not wearing a bra under this," he watches your mouth and he gulps, "but you can loosen up, we need to."

he nods, hesitantly palming you while his other hand squeezed your thigh. arching your back from the sofa, you go to kiss his jaw like you remembered you should. jaafar got shivers at the feeling of your soft pillowy lips pressing against his skin, completely engulfed in your scent.

jaafar has never been this nervous preparing for a scene before, not even when he had to spin and do moonwalks. His mind went blank, he couldn't contain himself under the gaze of your doe eyes, eagerly waiting for his next move. he didn't expect the cotton of your shirt to be so thin, feeling your nipple grow harder against his grasp.

now he really couldn't focus.

"ah.." he drops his head to look at his lap, "what did it say i do now?" he was too shy to even look at you, all the blood rushing up to his face. he didn't think this would be so hard.

"kiss me," you purred. you didn't mean for it to come out that way, your tone making jaafar's heart skip a beat until he almost started praying.

slowly, he closes the space between you. you sucked in a breath while your lips brushed against each other. finally, he pressed his own lips against yours, and you tasted so sweet he felt as if he was growing high. the kiss was short, but so perfect. your lips felt lonely when he pulled away.

nervously rubbing his thumb over your clothed nipple, his body language proved his anxiousness, kneading your thighs as he dropped his forehead to your shoulder.. you bite your lip at the feeling, not ignoring the fact that none of this was in the script. "what do i do now?" he asks, afraid to look at you.

your fingers tangle themselves amongst the curls over his nape, "doesn't matter, this was about getting the tension out of the way, right?" you asked. he felt like a student who was being guided by a teacher, god he was so hard. he was an amateur actor, he didn't know how long he could hide it for.

you had no idea this was practically like the blind leading the blind, but he lifts his head from off your shoulder anyways and nods. "yes," he tells himself, "you're right."

focus jaafar.

he kisses you again and you are more than welcoming, but this kiss was far more extensive than the one before. his demeanor is broken, desperate. he moves his hand from your boob, leaving you colder while he reaches for the other side of your hip, pressing you against him.

"come on," he softly orders, fighting the urge not to stick his tongue in you, "sit on my lap, please…"

you're supposed to be in character, but calling his uncle's name out right now doesn't feel right. doing as you're told, you feel how hard he is now that his crotch is nuzzled between your ass, straddling both his sides.

taking matters into your own hands, you decide to part between his teeth using your tongue, but it seems he also had the urge to do it at the same time, so your tongues end up swirling against each other. this makes him whimper while your hips start rocking against him.

you suck his bottom lip as you tug on his hair, he instinctively stands up while he carried you from your thighs, you hooking your legs around his waist for extra security while he took you to his bedroom. he was such a gentleman, he didn't want the first time you two "rehearse" to be in the middle of his living room.

you didn't care where it would be, you were so wet you were sure you were damp through your pants.

he gently lays you down on his bed, and you can smell him everywhere. the sheets, the pillows, everything was so him. the scene didn't include any real penetration, and he promised to practice this without any clothes being taken off either of you, so the two of you felt so incredibly restricted.

you couldn't admit to each other you were frustrated that the first day on the job for this scene didn't include skin to skin contact.

"don't let it get unprofessional."

jaafar had to hold himself back so much, it physically hurt. he just stuck with what he knew he was allowed to do. pulling away from your mouth to look at the hard nipples poking through your shirt, he whines, grabbing a handful of it while crawling over you.

"i wish you could suck them," you impulsively, very unprofessionally gasp.

as soon as you were about to regret it and hate yourself forever, he responds immediately. "me too," he moans, a pained look on his features.

you look at each other, intoxication playing in both your eyes. without another word, you shove your shirt above your head and he helps it off you. his mouth immediately salivates, licking past your nipple as he buries himself in your tits.

he calls favorite for your right breast, kissing it and moaning into it while his other hand plays with the other one, flicking your nipple and twisting it. you didn't want to be obnoxious, biting your lip to suppress your whimper. your legs spread open, your tits jiggling in his face when you lift up your hip to press yourself against his crotch.

he pulls away from your chest, his chin just as wet as your boobs. his fixes himself, aligning his clothed cock against your clothed pussy, he can't believe what he's doing. "jaafar…" you mewled, embarrassingly covering your face with the back of your hand.

"stop," he particularly ordered, shoving your hand over your head. "i have to see you…" jaafar licks his lower lip. you blush hard, rolling your hips as the thick, rock-hard outline of his dick gets you even wetter.

unable to contain himself, he presses harder into you, humping you through your clothes as the contact presses against your clit. he doesn't know where to look, you're a distracting billboard. there was a dark wet circle of precum on his pants, he was so embarrassed, but it only turned him on more.

your soft, smaller hand goes to touch his throat, he leans closer to you, his shirt-covered chest hovering just above your bouncing, exposed one. gently wrapping your hands around his throat, his adams apple bobs against your palm and you kiss him again.

your pussy clenches around nothing and his dick twitches against you, you didn't know how much longer you could roll your hips, feeling as if you were about to cry out in frustration." jaafar," you coo against his mouth, accidentally squeezing his throat tighter. jaafar didn't think he could get any harder.

"jus' ah little longer y/n." he slurs, seeing stars. he takes your leg and puts it over his shoulder, humping through your pussy harder while you tried fucking yourself back on him. your orgasm completely sneaks up on you, jumpscared with the sudden cum pulsing out of you, leaking through your clothes. "jaafar!" you shuttered, your back almost completely arching off of his mattress. he keeps dryhumping you, throwing his head completely back until his hip stutters.

now you both were soaked messes of cum.

don't let it get unprofessional my ass.

<

ok let me know if you guys want a part 2 to this where they do a little more than just dryhumping if you catch my drift

By the time he quietly lets himself through the front door, he exhales , exhausted from the trip. The house is dark, peaceful and he leaves his bags downstairs, straightens a few things absentmindedly as he moves through the house, smiling when he notices little reminders of you everywhere.

Your favourite blanket folded over the couch, a half finished book sitting on the coffee table, a cardigan draped over the back of a chair that he knows you’ll eventually come looking for tomorrow morning. The sight of those ordinary things gave a wave of comfort and warmth in him , they always do remind him that despite any harsh attention words him in life, he’s got a little flower waiting to take him in her arms at home.

After making his way upstairs, he showered and changing into something comfortable, he pushes open the bedroom door carefully, not wanting to wake you, and spots your sleeping form beneath the blankets. Micheal just stands there, watching you sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down slowly , seeing you asleep in your shared bed after weeks apart pulls a tired smile onto his face almost instantly. GOD you look so beautiful…

He crosses the room, leans down & presses a kiss against your cheek and another against your forehead before moving around to his side of the bed. He slips beneath the blankets and carefully settles behind you, automatically seeking out your warmth the same way he always does after being away. His arm slides around your waist, his face disappearing briefly into your hair as he breathes in the scent he’s missed more than he’ll ever admit out loud. After weeks of concerts, rehearsals & interviews , he feels himself properly relax.

It’s only when his hand settles against your stomach that something catches his attention.

At first he doesn’t think much of it, the thought barely registers because he’s tired, half asleep already, and his mind is still somewhere between airports and time zones, But a few seconds later his eyes slowly open again. His hand remains where it is while his brain quietly tries to make sense of the feeling, after a moment he shifts slightly, brushing his hand across the same spot again, more consciously this time, he makes sure to keep the movement subtle & careful not to wake you.

His brow furrows immediately.

No way……..

For several seconds he simply lies there staring into the darkness, trying to understand why a strange feeling of familiarity has suddenly settled over him. Then, memories from the past several weeks begin resurfacing. Little things and details that seemed small. You becoming tired more easily, the sickness you’d brushed off repeatedly, the way you’d seemed distracted during some of your phone calls and that doctor’s appointment you’d mentioned briefly before changing the subject. He remembered the oversized clothes that had slowly become your preferred choice lately. Separately, none of those things had meant much but together, however, they begin forming a picture so obvious that Michael actually feels his breath catch in his throat.

He slowly pushes himself up onto one elbow and looks down at you.

You remain completely asleep still peaceful, his gaze lingers there for a moment before drifting downward again Micheal gently removes the covers untill your stomach was visible.

ROUND…….a small bump…..

He looked back to your face, then downward once more.

Your pregnant

Your PREGNANT

A few minutes pass and he doesn’t move, he just keeps staring , his mind racing while the rest of him remains perfectly still. Because the very wish he has ever wanted with you when you promised him you’d love to bare his children, to be the mother of his children and to give him as many as he wants is right infront of him.

A baby

His hand remains resting lightly against your stomach while he sits there staring in complete disbelief. Michael has spent his entire life standing in front of thousands of people. He’s accepted awards, performed for stadiums and lived through moments most people could never imagine, yet somehow none of those experiences prepared him for this. None of them prepared him for sitting in a dark bedroom in the middle of the night while you the women he loves deeply sleeps peacefully beside him while carrying his child and realizing that the future he’s been imagining for years may has quietly arrived while he was away.

A smile appears before he even realizes it, small at first, then larger. Until he finds himself covering part of his face with one hand because the emotion building inside him feels ridiculous and so intense. He thinks about all those phone calls, all those times he’d asked whether you were alright, all those moments where he’d felt like something was different but couldn’t understand why and it all makes sense. The more he thinks about it, the more emotional he becomes. Then frustration slides in because you’ve been carrying this secret alone for weeks.

Attending appointments, hearing news, experiencing all of these changes and he wasn’t there. The realization softens some of his excitement with guilt. Guilt from leaving you all by your self, and not standing beside you, his wife that’s carrying a life he’s always dreamed of. He wished he’d been sitting beside you in those waiting rooms. Whishes he’d been there to experience every part of it with you instead of finding out accidentally in the middle of the night. If only he’d come sooner, though he understood why you haven’t told him over the phone. He had a feeling that you didn’t inform him because of his work, you didn’t want him overwhelmed and panicking and you were right he would have been so overwhelmed with joy and panic over this news.

Still, none of that changes the overwhelming happiness slowly taking hold of him. His gaze keeps drifting back toward your sleeping face then towards your stomach on that beautiful bump that has that bundle of life growing inside you. With all the harsh and negative part of attention he gets , he can already feel himself becoming protective and possessive . Already imagining things and planning for you and his baby.

Wondering what the baby might look like, whether they’ll have your smile or inherit his curls. Whether they’ll be loud or quiet or maybe they’ll love music and laugh like you. His thoughts run so far ahead of him that he eventually has to stop himself. Yet every time he does, another smile threatens to appear and silent tears start to run down his face while he gazes longingly at you and your stomach his large warm hand still covering the bump with his thump caressing it gently. A small laugh escaping his mouth, still in disbelief.

Eventually the excitement settles into something quieter and the questions stop coming, the nervous laughter eases, even the tears begin drying, though every now and then a few tears shill shed. Carefully, he leans forward and presses a lingering kiss against your forehead & another against your cheek & another on your shoulder. His hand comes up to brush a few loose strands of hair away from your face.

“Oh, baby…” he whispers softly. A quiet laugh escapes him before he can stop it.

Shaking his head to himself, Michael slips back beneath the blankets and gently gathers you closer without disturbing you. One arm slides beneath your pillow and settles comfortably beneath your head while the other wraps around your waist, his hand instinctively finding its way back to your stomach. His thumb brushes slowly across the fabric of your nightgown. Tender and Protective.

He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the familiar scent that had felt so far away only hours ago. A few soft kisses find your shoulder. Another against the back of your neck. Michael closes his eyes, his hand remains over your stomach breathing in and out slowly. After a long moment, he leans forward slightly and murmurs against your ear.

“God…”

A small breath of a laugh follows.

“Thank you, baby doll.”, His voice wavers slightly,

“Thank you so much.”

His arm tightens around you just a little.

westlakes recording studio, los angeles, california, 1982 .

the lights of the recording studio were dim. you were sitting on one of the many swivel chairs scattered across the studio, absentmindedly tuning the guitar that laid in your lap, completely untroubled by the world around you. just a couple of months ago, you could barely handle being in a room with so many important figures, let alone the michael jackson, whom you’ve been a fan of since he was a kid apart of the jackson 5, but now that you’ve gotten into the swing of things, you’re unfazed by it—no longer star struck.

you sat slouched in your seat, using your feet to turn yourself around in your chair just to make yourself dizzy. unconsciously, you started strumming your guitar—probably to one of the beats from the thriller album—and you just allowed yourself to sit in the moment, watching the lively room as if it was your personal entertainment. Producers, writers, musicians, all engaged in the process of creating this masterpiece.

“are we boring you or something?” michael suddenly appeared behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and leaning over so that he could whisper into your ear.

despite being a global superstar with a presence that could turn heads in seconds (which he had done countless times before), you had come to realize that when michael wanted to, he could move in absolute silence and easily sneak up on you.

“bored? no, i’m not bored. it's actually quite the opposite—i like all of this.” you confessed, turning your head to the side so that you could see his face fully. 

michael, though his face was unreadable, you could tell he was thinking of what to say next. the two of you spoke in a hushed tone. why? neither of you could say, but both of you enjoyed the secrecy of it all. the fact that, even if it was just for a couple of seconds, just the two of you had shared something that nobody else was made aware of.

“you like this? what exactly do you mean by that?” michael’s eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion, but the tone of his question made it seem like he wasn't all that confused. instead, it seemed like he was anticipating a certain answer from you.

“well i’m a musician, i like seeing other musicians work, it's like watching dr. frankenstein create the monster from scratch. it's entertaining,” you clarified.

“oh, i see…” michael nodded thoughtfully, standing up straight, although he kept his hands firmly on your shoulders.

the physical contact didn't phase you at this point. michael had been very touchy with you ever since you were hired by him, and you took that as him being friendly because he really made the effort to get familiar with you over. but you did take a quick second to glance at his hand before looking forward again.

you thought for a second, grabbing one of his hands with yours and holding it for a second while you chose your next words, “that sounds like you're disappointed in my answer…” you paused, letting the silence linger before laughing and adding, “what did you think that was too corny or something?”

your laugh triggered michael’s own laughter before he shook his head, “no, no. i’m not judging you…it's just that i didn't think that was going to be your answer.”

“and what did you think i was going to say?”

“something else. obviously.”

his snarky response caused you to roll your eyes and teasingly shove his hands off your shoulders completely. despite your outward annoyance, you did wonder what he thought you'd say,but you would never voice that curiosity out loud. almost all the professional boundaries between you and michael had been stepped over and ignored, but you still felt that, as his employee, you still didn't have the right to try pressing him for answers like that.

“gosh your so irritating, michael," you scoffed right before you laughed again. 

before michael could respond (probably with another snarky remark), the conversation the of you were having was interrupted by the sound of your name. both of your attentions were brought to quincy jones, who had been the one to call you. you raised an eyebrow at the producer, waiting for him to continue speaking. you sat up more in your seat and gripped onto your guitar tighter, as you regained a sense of professionalism now that you had eyes on you again. 

“come over here,” quincy motioned for you to come closer with his fingers, “we want to change one of your parts in p.y.t.”

you gave michael a quick glance before standing up. you pondered how in the time you and michael had spoken, everyone else had made an executive decision about michael’s album without him, but you didn’t say anything outloud—obvisouly. instead, you just walked over to the quincy with your guitar in hand, leaving michael to stand alone.

“sorry mike, i have to pull your girlfriend away for a moment,” quincy added with a sly smirk.

your face burnt up quickly at the comment and you let out an embarrassed laugh, but you were somehow able to play it off, like the idea of you and michael actually dating didn’t have you fighting the butterflies in your stomach.

“how many times do i have to remind you that i’m already in a relationship?” you rolled your eyes, pretending to be annoyed.

“it’s not me you have to remind, it’s mike you need to be reminding,” quincy raised an eyebrow at you, causing you to laugh. 

“shut up, q,” michael grumbled, but he barely attempted to hide the smirk on his face. instead, he chose to remove himself from the line of fire by talking to another producer.

now you were completely in work mode and you listened to quincy intently and nodded along as he gave you some revisions. it was interesting discussing the inner workings of somebody’s album without the present, but you didn’t want to focus on that too much. instead, you focused on flawlessly executing quincy’s instructions. your fingers glided across the guitar strings with a mastery that could only come with years of practice. after so many years, playing came easy to you, so it wasn’t surprising when you were able to get the exact sound quincy wanted just from his basic instructions alone.

“that’s the exact sound,” quincy applauded you before continuing, “now can you recreate that in the booth is the real question?"

“of course i can,” you replied, no hesitation.

quincy laughed at your unshakable confidence before picking up a scatter of papers. “well, first thing tomorrow, we’ll work on that revision,” he said before handing you some of those clustered papers, “and then these revisions as well, but it’ll be easy for you.”

your eye twitched slightly as you accepted the stack of papers with a semi-forced smile. quincy patted you on the shoulder, as if he was apologizing without saying it. your eyes dashed towards michael for a moment, pleading for some help, but when you looked at him, you could see he was already looking at you with a stern gaze, so you knew he was already lost in his own thoughts and wouldn’t be giving his input anytime soon. 

“things are winding down for the day, so you can head out,” quincy added, gesturing towards the door.

“okay, thanks. but can i use the bathroom before i leave?” you asked, placing your guitar and the homework quincy had just given you down in a nearby chair.

“what am i your teacher?” quincy chuckled.

you laughed and shook your head no. then, you were off, heading out the studio so that you could find a bathroom. the journey actually took longer than you expected and you spent quite a bit of time in search for a bathroom, then even longer trying to find someone who could give you directions to the bathroom, but to no avail, the building was pretty much empty. you figured out pretty soon that the time you had spent in the studio was way longer than you expected, and most people would be at home at this hour.

after what felt like ages, you finally found a bathroom to use and your journey had come to an end. satisfied, you headed back to the studio in a rush. you wanted to get out of here as fast as possible because you already knew you’d be up all night trying to rework your parts to quincy’s satisfaction. he claimed it was just a “few revisions” but you knew better. neither him or michael were happy with the way this album was turning out and even though the album had technically been finished a while ago, the duo had been rewriting and fixing every single song on the track. not that you were complaining that much, you were getting paid all the same. but you also knew working with these perfectionists meant you’d be pulling all nighters, especially tonight. 

you stretched your arms before stepping back into the studio. you were meant with absolutely nothing. in the time it had taken for you to use the bathroom, it seemed like everyone else had left for the night!

“how rude,” you muttered, making a b-line for your guitar so you could get out of here as well.

“what’s rude?” michael replied, suddenly standing behind you.

startled by the sudden sound of someone else’s voice, you yelped and jumped, causing michael to mimic your actions. he wasn’t expecting you to do that. you turned around to see michael standing in the doorway. for a second, you just stared at him, trying to recollect your soul that just left your body. when you finally did, you shoved him.

“what the hell? you scared me!”

“you scared me!” michael scoffed playfully, unaffected by your shoving as he stepped into the studio.

“what are you still doing here?” you asked once your heart started beating at a normal pace again.

“i’m working obviously. i should be asking you that question,” michael crossed his arms and smirked. he also made sure to lean down so that he could get in your face, “don’t tell me you’re just coming back from the bathroom…did you fall in the toilet?”

“no i did not fall in the toilet,” you rolled your eyes dramatically and stuck your tongue out at him.

if anyone walked in on the two of you, they wouldn’t think you guys were coworkers because you guys talked as if you were old friends. you looked him up and down before mocking his stance by crossing your arms over your chest and pretending to be annoyed with him. after a couple of seconds of having a sass off, you caved in, unfolding your arms as your curiosity beat your pride. 

“i just lost looking for the bathroom. the only reason i came back is because i left my stuff here,” you finally confessed before gesturing towards him, “your turn.”

michael sighed, pinching his eyebrows together. even before he said anything, he had said a lot already.

“is it something you want to talk about?” you asked, giving him a reassuring pat on his shoulder.

for a second, michael momentarily forgot his issues. just feeling your hand on him calmed him down. it was no surprise to anyone that michael felt unusually close to you even though you hadn’t known each other that long. that’s why these days, he always finds himself subconsciously looking for you when he starts to feel overwhelmed by the stress of this album. just speaking to you was enough to silence his nerves for a bit. plus, it helped that he liked looking at your face as well.

you took michael’s silence as an answer, suddenly grabbing his hand to guide him to some seats. you sat in the swivel chair that was previously reserved for your guitar, patting the seat next to you for him to sit in.

“come on, lay it on me. i’ll be your shrink,” you offered, causing michael to laugh and sit down next to you. “but let’s make this quick, i already know my boyfriend’s annoyed i haven’t come home yet,” you quickly added.

michael was happy that you were so willing to help him out. even though you were technically working for him, you never made it seem like you were his friend out of obligation, which was a huge weight off his shoulders. in this industry, he was more often than not surrounded by ‘yes men’ and there were very few people left who would offer him pushback—one of those few people being you. that’s why he held your opinion in such high regard.

michael opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. he really did want to speak to you about this, but the sudden mention of your boyfriend made him pause and his eyes to furrow. you once again managed to momentarily distract him from his problems, but this time it wasn’t so nice. 

“please?” you added, placing one of your hands on his thigh and squeezing.

michael’s eyes widened and he had to swallow a lump in his throat, but he forced himself not to focus or even look at your hand on his thigh. his eyebrows furrowed again, wondering if you were messing with him. 

sometimes he believed you were flirting with him and feigning innocence just to drive him crazy, but other times he thought you were genuinely clueless. michael liked you—that much was obvious—and he had no problem with the fact you were already in a relationship of 7 years. he never had a problem going after a taken woman. he liked the challenge and simply viewed your boyfriend as a nuisance that would eventually go away. the only problem he had was the fact you still seemed interested in said boyfriend at times. 

“it’s nothing serious, but…” he started off, burying his thoughts into the back of his mind, “i just feel like this just isn’t going the way i wanted it to go.”

“meaning?” you asked, urging him to continue.

“meaning…” michael paused again, having to decide rather quickly what he was actually talking about, “ i expected so much more from this album. off the wall was a success, sure, but this one was supposed to so much more.”

“but it is already so great, michael. i think you’re too hypercritical of yourself,” you tried to reassure him.

“but it’s not,” he insisted, causing you to shut up and just let him vent, “it’s not entirely me. too many people keep giving their input, stepping over my vision of what i want this album to be.”

you eyes slowly fall onto the revisions quincy gave you earlier and the gears start turning in your head. the constant revisions made by the two men started to make a lot more sense now. 

“it’s funny how you claim you hate how everyone around you is being suck-ups, but the moment someone comes at you with a different vision, you freak out,” you chuckled, teasing him for his hypocrisy.

“that’s not the same thing,” he insisted once again, dragging a hand across his face, “i respect quincy, there’s no doubt about that, but this is my album—my vision and he keeps trying to change it. all for the sake of being more marketable, but i know what i want is the best choice.”

you could tell this was stressing michael out a lot more than he was letting on right now. you tilted your head, trying to come up with the right words to say. you used your feet to roll his chair closer to yours and finally spoke, “well, you should always fight for what you want. if you genuinely feel like you’re right, then you shouldn’t let anyone stand in the way of what you want.”

michael squinted his eyes at you and just stared. your words were definitely encouraging him…in more ways than one. after staring at you for what felt like forever, memorizing your every feature and making sure to etch them into his mind forever, michael decided to take your advice. without warning, he closed his eyes and leaned forward, tilting his head so that he could kiss you like he had wanted to for months. unfortunately for him, as he was leaning forward to kiss you, you were turning in your chair away from him, to grab something nearby, causing you to completely miss his romantic gesture.

realizing the thing he was kissing was air, michael opened his eyes in panic and froze. even more unfortunate for him, this was the exact same time you decided to turn back around. the sight you were met with was confusing to say the least and you could only offer his panicked face a confused smile in return, questioning how he got so close to you in the span of three seconds. in your hand were the revisions given to you earlier. you slapped the sheets into michael’s lap, causing him to slowly forget his embarrassment so that he could look at the sheets. 

“artisit to artist,” you pointed in between you two, “this is actually some really good stuff and you should just write it off because you didn’t think of it first.”

michael rolled his eyes slightly, staring at the papers. he was about to open his mouth to rebut your statement, but you, knowing him too well, cut him off.

“but, at the end of the day, this is a michael jackson album—not a quincy jones album—and if you don’t like it, i won’t play it,” you shrugged, getting up from your seat with your guitar in hand.

you gave michael, whose gaze was still firmly on the papers, one last pat on the shoulder, and with that, you made your exit, heading home for the night.

with the load of having to bring work home gone, you were actually excited to go back home. your apartment had turned into a mini recording studio these past few months and you were glad that wouldn’t be the case tonight. on the ride home, all you could think about is going home and relaxing. you assumed your boyfriend would be asleep by this time (it was practically midnight already), so when you got home, you would make time for yourself, probably watching a movie or finishing that book you swore you’d get to one day, or even better: getting a good amount of sleep for once. 

eventually, you made it to your apartment complex and silently cheered at the fact. your apartment seemed empty, with your living and kitchen being dark, with the only source of light coming from the television playing an action movie, which you assumed was turned on by your boyfriend. you yawned, letting your eyes drift towards the couch, finding your boyfriend, wayne, sleeping peacefully.

your eyes softened. he must’ve been waiting up for you and fell asleep. your heart swelled out of adoration and a little guilt, which you didn’t understand why. you shook those intrusive thoughts away, grabbing a blanket that was hanging off the edge of the couch and draping it over wayne. then, you grabbed the remote to turn the television off.

“what the—? i was watching that!” your boyfriend shook awake suddenly and sat up on the couch a little, barely even aware of anything, despite the fact he was complaining.

you playfully shook your head, ignoring his semi-conscious outburst. “awww, did you wait up for me? i’m sorry i’m so late, i lost track of time,” you smiled, looking down at him.

“yeah, you’re real fucking sorry,” wayne scoffed, suddenly very awake. “do you know how long i waited for you to come home?”

your eyes furrowed, startled by his unnecessary attitude. “i said i was sorry, no reason to curse at me. it wasn’t like i was just out partying. i was working.”

“so? you’ve been working late all week,” he rolled his eyes, sitting up fully on the couch before continuing, “the apartment is a mess and i haven’t had a home cooked dinner in days!”

you blinked rapidly, completely taken aback by the reasoning behind his outburst. you scoffed, crossing your arms over his chest, staring daggers down at him. you were starting to get annoyed because of his audacity and the fact he was ruining your relaxing night. in a couple of hours, you’d have to get up and go to work again and while you did love music, you also loved being able to do nothing sometimes, and your boyfriend was ruining that for you!

“you can’t be serious, wayne," you groaned, letting your hand fall down your face before continuing, “i haven’t had a gig this good in years! and you’re mad i’m not home to cook and clean for you? do you hear yourself right now?—you’re insane!”

“i’m not!” he insisted while raising his voice, “this ‘job’ you're so worried about is getting in the way of you doing your job as my girlfriend!”

“my job as your girlfriend? my job isn’t to be your maid, cooking and cleaning for you!”

“taking care of me doesn’t make you a maid, it makes you a decent woman, but you can’t even do that right anymore.”

“what else am i supposed to do, wayne?” you asked, matching his shouting, “one of us needs to be making money, and you haven’t gotten a gig in years! maybe it’s time to get a real fucking job, singing clearly isn’t your thing!”

as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. you knew you hit below the belt with that one. just like everyone else in  los angeles, wayne an aspiring singer that had been struggling to start up his career. he had written almost every producer in the state and yet nothing came from it. the two of you were highschool sweethearts, so you had spent your entire adulthood comforting him and reassuring him. you were angry at his words, but you didn’t want to hurt him like that

“you need to check that bitchy ego of yours. you think you’re hot shit because you’re working for michael jackson now?” he asked, laughing cruelly, “enjoy it while you can because in a couple of months, this thriller shit will be over with, you’ll be kicked to the curb, and you’ll be back to being just another nobody.” he made sure to say that last line with extra disgust. 

your eyes and mouth widen in surprise before you let out a noise of shock. you stammered trying to find what to say next. maybe an apology or maybe a mean comment back, either way, nothing came out because before you could get your brain to start working properly again, wayne got up and stomped past you, already to your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him and you assumed he locked it as well.

you were still standing there stupidly, like a fish out of water trying to breathe. after what felt like forever, your brain finally caught up to the scene that unfolded just moments ago, and you allowed yourself to process things, so you could cry.

and you cried a lot.

you surprised yourself with how much you were crying and you couldn’t stop yourself no matter how many times you tried whipping your tears. your throat felt like it was on fire as you struggled to breathe through the gallons of tears that fell from your face. this was humiliating. you really did feel bad for what you said to him, which is why you couldn’t even fault him for his response. you felt it was fair game. he was just trying to hurt you after you hurt him back.

but damn, he was just so cruel. you felt like you were having a heart attack with the way your heart began to turn in your chest. you hated fighting with wayne, which is why you always took steps to avoid arguments. you wished you did the same thing tonight. just shut up and be a good girlfriend—it always worked before.

your crying became silent and you dropped to the floor, but the tears were far from over. you were hurt and the only thing you could think about was that feeling, over and over again.

was he right? probably. you never expected to become a world famous guitarist off of one job, but he was going way too far calling you a nobody.

wasn’t he?

you didn’t know anymore. you definitely didn’t feel like a somebody, crying on your living room floor because your boyfriend yelled at you. gosh, you felt so stupid. to think, just an hour ago you were happy to see his face. you fell backwards so that you could lay down on the floor. you finally stopped crying, but with the sound of your crying gone, the silence was replaced with the thoughts in your head, which was objectively worse.

the next morning, you woke up, limbs sprawled out on your living room floor. your eyes felt puffy and you didn’t need to look in the mirror to know that they were red as well. you let out a sigh, rolling over so that you could get up. the sun shined through the curtains of your apartment, which let you know it was time to go to work again.

fantastic.

you dragged your feet through your apartment to head towards your bathroom to start getting ready. you brushed your teeth in your kitchen just so you didn’t need to torture yourself by having to look at your dreadful face in the bathroom mirror. your hair was a mess, you only got one good hour of sleep (which wasn’t surprising, you slept on the floor), and you didn’t feel any better about the argument.

you tried tidying up your hair a bit before heading to your bedroom to find something to change into, only to be met with a face full of door.

“wayne!” you screamed, banging on the door repeatedly. “wake up! i have to go to work today, come on!”

you kept slamming your fist on the door. you were pretty sure you had woken up every single one of your neighbors with your banging, so you were flabbergasted that he could sleep through it. with one last bang of desperation, you groaned and turned away from the door.

you looked down at the outfit you were wearing. black pants and a black shirt. it was such a simple and unassuming outfit that if it really came down to it, nobody would be able to clock you repeating your outfit two days in a row. they would probably just think black is your favorite color…you let out a final defeated whine before heading downstairs and exiting your apartment complex.

the entire drive back to the recording studio, you had to keep telling yourself nobody would notice the fact you were wearing the same thing from yesterday.

nobody is looking that hard, nobody is looking that hard, nobody is looking that hard.

walking into westlakes studio today didn’t have the same effect it usually had on you. normally, you were excited to work doing what you love while working for one of your favorite singers in the world. today, however, you were anxious, sad, and most importantly, you felt guilty. the fact that you got to do what you love and make money off it, while your boyfriend couldn’t even get people on the sidewalk to stop to listen to his music, made you feel even worse about yourself. 

you shuffled into the recording studio quietly, hoping to not draw any attention to yourself as you found an available chair to sit in. you were too caught up in your thoughts to focus on your surroundings like you usually enjoyed doing, and hoped to not draw any attention to yourself. 

your wishes went ignored because not even five minutes after the thought crossed your mind, michael came through the door and with him came the attention of everyone in the studio, though his attention was focused on you. michael made his way over to you with the same easy confidence that he always seemed to have.

when he reached you, he sat down in a nearby chair, opening his mouth to say something, but it seemed like something caught his attention and his face scrunched up, before he changed what he wanted to say, “didn’t you wear that yesterday?”

you wanted to bang your head against the floor. 

“it’s a black outfit! there’s no reason you should’ve been able to tell.” you replied, slightly annoyed.

michael chuckled, proud of his observational skills. he took a second to scan over your face, something he found himself doing a lot when talking to you, and he noticed the redness in your eyes, causing his smile to turn into a look of concern.

“are you okay?” he asked, careful not to overstep. he didn’t act like it, but he was well aware of all the stares the two of you were getting and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you.

you froze for a second before nodding quietly and reassuring him you were fine. you hadn’t expected him to ask you that. in less than five seconds, he was able to tell you were upset, and that was scary to you. you never had someone be able to read you so well and even worse, he genuinely sounded concerned for you. even wayne wasn’t this perceptive when it came to you and you had been with him since you were 16!

michael accepted your answer, not finding any reason to press you about it right now. it made no sense for him to try to get you to speak to him with everyone here. instead, michael decided that he would just focus on working today, planning to speak to you later when he could get you in private. 

you followed in his lead, trying to distract yourself from your relationship issues with your work. you fell completely into your playing, forcing yourself to focus on the feeling of your fingers against the guitar strings, instead of the feeling of your heart tugging. you were overdoing it at this point, making sure to play every note with robotic perfection to make yourself feel better. by the end of the day, you had actually managed to cheer yourself up but it was short-lived because as you were putting your guitar back into its case, you remembered you’d have to go back home to your boyfriend, which made you sad all over again.

the only thing that could pull you out of your pity party was the feeling of a hand on your shoulder. you turned around to see michael looking back at you. he didn't give you his normal, easy going smile and he didn't crack a joke. instead, he eyes couldn't focus on meeting your own and he kept turning his head to watch as other people left the studio for the day.

“michael?” you broke the silence, tilting your head in confusion.

“sorry,” he apologized, snapping out of whatever trance he was in and letting go of your shoulder, “stay here with me tonight.”

“was that a question or an order?”

michael paused for a second, “a question.”

you nodded quickly. you had no idea where this was headed, but you did know that michael was unintentionally giving you a way to avoid going home, which you really needed. plus, you appreciated the privacy the studio offered now that everyone had filed out.

“i hope this isn’t your way of firing me…” you joked, giving him a suspecting look.

“what? of course not.” he genuinely sounded taken aback by your comment, as if the idea disturbed his soul. “i wouldn’t have been able to make this album without you and anyways, you’re my friend, why would i fire you?”

“am i actually your friend? really?” you asked, basically ignoring everything else he said.

“well…” michael trailed off, trying to find a way to correct himself with coming off as rude. 

sure, he would label the two of you as friends, but he didn’t want to call you that. he’d rather be more than friends and he didn’t need you labeling him as “just a friend” before he could properly make a move on you. speaking of which…

“is there a problem with that?” he asked, answering your question with his own question.

“well no—”

“don’t you want to be my friend?” michael teased, bending over a little to get closer to you and quickly adding, “does your boyfriend not want you to be my friend?”

at the mention of your boyfriend, you froze up despite your best attempt at staying neutral and your eye twitched slightly before shaking your head a little too quickly. michael let out a genuine laugh, standing up straight again. as a veteran homewrecker, he knew the exact signs of a woman wanting to get out of a relationship and you were showing all the signs. wanting to stay at work late, leaving home upset, and the immediate annoyance at the mention of your boyfriend, not to mention the fact you never once stopped him from hugging or touching you. you could say one thing, but your actions definitely showed another. you were clearly itching to get out of your relationship and he was more than willing to help you out. 

“we can be friends,” you tried to come off as indifferent, but you could barely meet his gaze.

michael laughed even louder before he raised an eyebrow. “you okay? i know you came in today a little upset…”

michael was genuinely concerned about your happiness. but he also knew your boyfriend was the one the upset you, even without you telling him, so he didn’t bad trying to use the opportunity to get you to break up with you boyfriend.

you bit your lip, weighing your choices. on one hand, michael was still your boss, and you didn’t want to overshare with him, but he did just say he considered you a friend, so you felt you would be within your right to vent to him a little bit. you only took another second before plopping yourself down on the couch that rested against one of the studio walls. michael followed your action, sitting down next to you, while making sure to only leave a couple of inches of space between you two.

“i think…” you sucked in a breath and rubbed your hands up and down your thighs to shake off your jitters. you could only whisper, as you continued, “...my boyfriend is jealous of me.”

michael was dumbfounded. he knew your boyfriend was a loser but he didn’t think he was that big of a loser. michael’s face twisted into one of disgust, which caused you the laugh. at least he made you feel valid in your feelings.

“last night, we got into a fight. i don't even know how. maybe it’s because i’m always here or working while i’m home, but i thought we were perfectly fine!” you spoke in an animated way, throwing your hands up in the air. 

“what happened then?” michael egged you on.

“i don’t know! i don’t know! i come home and suddenly he’s yelling about my job!” you were speaking faster than you could filter your words. the more you spoke, the easier it was to rile yourself up.

“you know he was mad i can’t come home and cook his dinners anymore? i’ve cooked for that man since i was 16, but a couple months of having to be a grown man, and all of a sudden i’m the worst girlfriend ever. he doesn’t even work! i’m the only one paying bills. all he does is send his records to different record labels…” 

“just leave him.” michael blurted out, stopping you from venting further.

you literally short circuited. you just wanted to complain for an hour or three, not break up with your boyfriend! michael’s response was way too real for you and you struggled to form a sentence after he said that. you just wanted him to validate your feelings, jesus christ!

“it’s easier said than done, michael. i can’t just leave him—”

“why not?” he immediately cut you off, not even giving you the chance to come up with a flimsy excuse.

“because he’s my boyfriend!” you scoffed, throwing your hands up in the air as if it was the most obvious thing ever.

“don’t be a fool. whatever the two of you have isn’t love. maybe when you were kids, but now? it doesn’t even seem like you can tolerate him anymore” michael shifted closer, using the heat of your conversation to touch his thigh against yours.

“please, i love my man!” you shot back, suddenly feeling defensive of your shitty boyfriend.

“then why are you here with me when you could’ve been at home with him, working on your relationship?” michael smiled like an asshole, already aware that you didn’t have a response.

and you didn’t. you should’ve been at home with wayne trying to communicate with him and work through the argument the two of you had last night, but you didn’t want to do that because wayne was just so…and michael was so much better to talk to, but you knew you couldn’t say that outloud, so you just stayed silent. 

you became aware of how close michael was to you with your thighs touching. was he always sitting this close? your heartbeat was slowly picking up. the defensiveness you had for your relationship filtered out pretty quickly and was instead replaced with that other feeling you never wanted to think about. 

michael noticed the mood shift, but he didn’t care because right now he was on a roll.“in fact, i don’t even think your boyfriend loves you. he treats you like shit. no half decent boyfriend—no, no half decent person makes someone pay their rent and cook their meals too.”

you looked down in your lap. he was right, that much was obvious. your boyfriend was pretty much a bum, but still…it wasn’t as easy as michael made it out to be. it was complicated. it was so complicated, you struggled to articulate your point into words.

“you know you deserve better. if stay with this guy, you’ll only be miserable. you deserve to be with someone who you actually enjoy being around,” michael finished, speaking so definitively.

michael decided to take a page from your book, placing a hand on a thigh, causing your gaze to be stuck on his hand and how it felt warm against your leg. the feeling felt, so familiar and you could get used to it.

you forced your eyes back onto his own before whispering, “maybe…but you can’t be so sure. maybe wayne really is the love of my life and i just have to try a little harder…” you tried to be positive though you did little to actually convince yourself of what you were saying, “or maybe the love of my life is out there somewhere, but it's not like they’ve made themself known.”

michael took this as his sign. he didn’t hesitate, leaning forward so that he could finally kiss you. but fate still didn’t seem to be on his side because at that exact moment you turned away from him, completely missing his gesture. michael wanted to freak out, but knew he needed to stay silent. what are the odds the same thing happened twice? he hoped you were just messing with him, but when you turned back around, meeting his brown eyes with your own, he realized you weren’t messing with him.

“i think i have to go…” you sighed, standing up. 

you didn’t really want to leave, but there wasn’t anything holding you here. you turned towards the door and michael knew he had to make a split second decision, so he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from walking away. you turned around surprised. your eyes trailed down to his hand, now holding your wrist in an iron grip before they went back to his face. he wasn’t even looking at you, instead he was looking off to the side with furrowed eyebrows, obviously lost in thought. 

but you didn’t need him to speak, his face said everything he wouldn’t say out loud. he was trying to tell you something and you were finally ready to listen. michael turned back to face you, but it was too late, because you were already softly grabbing your chin and pulling him closer so that you could meet your lips with his. for a second, you panicked, because he wasn’t kissing you back. you were seeing your career flash before your eyes. it was over and he was going to fire you for misconduct, but then another second passed and michael was moving his hand from your wrist to around your waist, pulling you into his lap and tilting his head in order to deepen the kiss.

you felt him smile into the kiss as you allowed yourself to be pulled into his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. goosebumps graced your skin, yet you still felt hot all over. you were sitting in his lap and straddling him, but the two of you were kissing like you weren’t close enough. butterflies were fluttering in your stomach and this time, you didn’t try to pretend like they weren’t there. the kiss felt like fireworks and even after the both of you pulled away to catch your breath, the sparks were still there. you placed your forehead against his. 

“i’m glad you actually listened to what i said,” michael joked, licking your lip gloss off his lips.

you buried your face into the crook of his neck before mumbling, “yeah, i realized you were right. i’d much rather spend time here with you.”