#public affection

The stadium glowed gold beneath the stage lights.

More than thirty thousand people screamed loud enough to shake the floor beneath your heels, their voices echoing through the massive arena as anticipation buzzed through the air like electricity. Cameras flashed endlessly from every direction while giant screens looped shots of the crowd.

Beside you, Janet laughed softly at something Randy said, though your attention was somewhere else entirely.

The stage.

More specifically

Your husband.

The second Michael stepped into the spotlight, the entire stadium erupted.

The screams became deafening.

Dressed in gold and black, glittering beneath the lights like something unreal, Michael smiled shyly toward the audience before bringing the microphone to his lips.

And then the opening notes of Heaven Can Wait filled the stadium.

You smiled instantly.

That song always did something to you.

At first, everything felt normal.

Michael moved effortlessly across the stage, smooth and elegant beneath the lights as dancers surrounded him. He pointed toward the audience occasionally, smiling at fans, performing the way he always did.

But then

He looked at you.

Not just a glance.

Not just a passing look.

A real one.

Soft.

Warm.

Intentional.

Your breath caught slightly as Michael smiled at you from across the stage before continuing the song, his voice melting through the speakers like honey.

Janet noticed immediately.

“Oh, Lord,” she muttered beside you, already grinning.

“What?” you whispered, though your cheeks were beginning to warm.

“He started already.”

You frowned. “Started what?”

Janet only pointed toward the stage.

And there Michael was again.

Looking directly at you while singing Heaven Can Wait like the lyrics had been written specifically for you.

The next few minutes only made it worse.

Every time he crossed the stage, his body angled toward your section. His choreography subtly shifted until half of his movements were facing you entirely. During softer lyrics, his expression gentled in a way that made your stomach flip.

And the audience noticed.

The first loud screams started when Michael pointed toward VIP during the chorus.

The second happened when the giant screen behind him cut directly to your face.

Your eyes widened instantly.

“Oh my God,” you whispered, horrified as thirty thousand people screamed louder.

Randy nearly choked laughing beside you.

Michael, however, looked delighted.

Actually delighted.

The man had the audacity to smile wider before continuing the song.

By the final chorus, he wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore.

His eyes stayed locked onto you while he sang, voice softer somehow despite the massive stadium surrounding him. Like the performance had narrowed down to only the two of you.

Then came the line that truly ruined you.

Michael slowly walked toward the edge of the stage nearest the VIP section, his eyes never once leaving yours as he sang the final chorus of Heaven Can Wait.

The crowd noticed instantly.

Screams erupted throughout the stadium while the cameras zoomed in shamelessly.

Your cheeks burned.

Michael only smiled harder.

And then, during one of the final lines—

He mouthed something.

I love you.

Your heart nearly stopped.

Completely flustered, you mouthed it back without thinking.

The crowd absolutely lost their minds.

The screams that followed were so loud Michael actually laughed mid-song, ducking his head shyly while the cameras zoomed in on him instantly.

“Oh, he is gone,” Jermaine muttered from backstage.

“This ain’t even a concert anymore,” Randy added dramatically. “We watching date night live.”

Janet laughed so hard beside you she nearly had tears in her eyes.

“Oh, baby,” she teased, nudging your shoulder gently. “That man forgot thirty thousand people were here.”

And somehow

Somehow

Michael still found ways to make it worse.

During the final chorus, he reached his hand out toward your section while singing, smiling softly when you shook your head in embarrassment. The giant screen behind him immediately cut to your face again, catching the exact moment you buried your face in your hands while laughing.

The audience screamed louder.

Michael looked entirely too pleased with himself

--------

The second Michael stepped backstage, chaos erupted.

“There he is!” Jermaine yelled dramatically.

“Mr. Serenade Your Wife On Live Television,” Randy added.

Michael blinked innocently, still breathless from performing. “What?”

Janet gasped loudly. “Oh, don’t do that.”

Randy immediately replayed the footage on one of the backstage monitors.

The screen showed Michael singing Heaven Can Wait directly toward the VIP section with the softest expression anyone had ever seen on him.

Then it zoomed in further.

Michael mouthing I love you.

The room exploded.

Tito nearly doubled over laughing while Jackie shook his head.

“You are sick with love,” Janet accused through laughter.

Michael tried and failed to hide his smile.

“I was performing the song,” he defended weakly.

“To your wife,” Jermaine corrected instantly.

“For like fifteen straight minutes,” Randy added.

Michael rolled his eyes shyly, though the grin on his face completely ruined any attempt at pretending innocence.

Then the monitor replayed the moment you mouthed I love you back.

The backstage room somehow got even louder.

“Ohhhhhh, she got him bad,” Randy shouted.

Michael finally laughed, ducking his head while rubbing the back of his neck.

“Y'all are annoying.”

“No,” Janet corrected sweetly. “You’re in love.”

-------

By the next morning, the entire internet had lost its mind.

Every entertainment channel replayed clips from the performance nonstop.

Every radio station discussed it.

Every tabloid had your names plastered across the front page.

LOVE CAN’T WAIT? MICHAEL JACKSON GOES VIRAL FOR SERENADING HIS WIFE DURING HEAVEN CAN WAIT

MICHAEL JACKSON FORGETS ENTIRE STADIUM EXISTS WHILE SINGING TO WIFE

THE MOST ROMANTIC PERFORMANCE OF MICHAEL JACKSON’S CAREER?

Even worse

The clips were everywhere.

Slow-motion edits of Michael smiling at you.

Close-ups of him mouthing I love you.

Fans online losing their minds over the way his voice softened every time he looked at you during Heaven Can Wait.

One entertainment reporter dramatically placed a hand over her chest while footage played behind her.

“I mean, look at this man,” she laughed. “He was fighting for his life up there.”

Another radio host joked: “I don’t know about y’all, but we were interrupting married people business.”

Michael, seated across from you at the kitchen table in gray sweatpants and a hoodie, nearly choked on his tea laughing.

You pointed accusingly at the television.

“This is your fault.”

“My fault?” he repeated innocently.

“Yes, your fault! You were staring at me the entire concert!”

Michael bit back a smile behind his cup.

“You’re my wife.”

Like that explained everything.

Honestly, to him, it probably did.

---------------

The interviewer smiled knowingly as Michael sat curled slightly into himself on the couch, already looking shy before the question had even been asked.

“So,” she started carefully, “the internet has spent the last twenty-four hours talking about your performance of Heaven Can Wait.”

The audience immediately cheered.

Michael laughed softly, lowering his head.

“I mean,” the interviewer continued with a grin, “you spent almost the entire song looking directly at your wife.”

The crowd screamed louder.

Michael rubbed beneath his nose shyly while smiling to himself.

“And fans are convinced,” she added dramatically, “that somewhere in the middle of that performance, Heaven Can Wait stopped being a concert song and became a love letter.”

Michael laughed quietly again, visibly embarrassed by the audience’s reaction.

But he still smiled.

That soft, hopelessly in-love smile.

Then he glanced down for a moment before speaking.

“When you love somebody that much…” he started softly, “…every love song starts sounding like them.”

The audience immediately erupted.

Michael only laughed shyly, ducking his head before continuing.

“It’s hard not to think about her,” he admitted quietly. “Even when I’m onstage.”

The crowd practically melted.

“She’s…” Michael paused, smiling to himself. “She’s my favorite person. So when I sing songs like Heaven Can Wait…” he laughed softly, “…I guess everybody can tell who I’m thinking about.”

The audience screamed again.

The interviewer placed a hand over her heart dramatically.

“Oh, that is amazing,” she said through laughter.

Michael just smiled.

Small.

Warm.

Completely gone.

“So you were singing to her?” the interviewer teased.

Michael looked up this time, eyes softening instantly.

“I always am.”

The audience absolutely lost their minds.

“And after all these years,” the interviewer continued, still recovering, “you’re still this in love with your wife?”

Michael looked genuinely confused by the question.

“Of course,” he answered simply.

The room quieted slightly at how sincere he sounded.

Michael smiled again, softer this time.

“I married her because I loved her,” he said. “That didn’t stop after the wedding

The audience started screaming again while Michael covered his face shyly.

But even then

He was still smiling.

“Oh my God,” she laughed. “So you admit it?”

Michael looked up finally, smiling shyly.

“I married her,” he said simply. “Of course I’m still in love with her, and of course I'm gonna sing to her.”

The audience somehow screamed even louder.

And somewhere at home, watching the interview replay on television, you nearly threw a pillow at the screen while Michael laughed beside you from the couch.

taglist: @simply-lovley44 @cocomilaa

Another Michael fic I couldn't help myself

"Thanks for agreeing to hang out today," Rover said, slightly breathless. "You're usually…well, busy being the Blazing Nightwalker or, you know, correcting someone's entire workflow with a single raised eyebrow."

Zani glanced at him, dark red eyes flickering like embers, and allowed herself the smallest smile. “You’ve made an appointment. I honor appointments.”

“Right, right,” Rover laughed, ruffling his hair. “Still, nice to see you without flames and blood for once.”

Zani didn’t respond immediately. She adjusted the cuffs of her gloves, silent for a heartbeat before answering in her usual, even tone. “It’s important to remind people I’m not a ghost.”

They walked in companionable silence down the cobbled streets of one of Ragunna’s quieter districts. A café sat tucked between the worn bones of old buildings—chipped paint, cozy lighting, the scent of fresh bread spilling onto the street like a promise. Zani led the way inside with crisp certainty.

It was…nice. Warm. And Rover, emboldened by how the afternoon light softened her edges, decided to chance a little more.

“You ever consider taking a break? I mean, a real one. Maybe a weekend away from Ragunna? Somewhere quiet? Just the two of us?”

Zani didn’t blink, didn’t miss a step. “Why would it only be the two of us?”

Rover hesitated. “Well—I just thought…”

Before he could fumble further, the bell above the café door chimed again.

“Zani!”

The voice was bright and unreserved. A blur of motion followed, and then he was there—you, cheerful as a sunrise and utterly out of place in the same frame as Zani’s shadow-wreathed elegance. Dressed casually, a tote bag slung over your shoulder and a pastry box in hand, you lit up the moment your eyes landed on her.

Zani's face, usually a marble sculpture of composure, softened immediately. Not just a smile—something deeper, warmer. She reached for you before you even closed the distance, her gloved hand brushing yours with an ease born of familiarity.

You leaned in without hesitation, kissed her cheek, and said, “Got your favorite. The raspberry ones you pretend not to like.”

“I never said I didn’t like them,” she replied, voice uncharacteristically gentle.

“You just glared at them until they left the room.”

“I was tired.”

Rover stood there, blinking.

You finally noticed him and grinned, extending a hand. “Oh hey! You must be Rover. She mentioned you. Said you’re persistent.”

Rover took your hand, heart thudding oddly in his chest. “Persistent. Right.”

“I’m [Name], by the way. Zani’s other half. Or quarter, really. She’s the whole damn constellation—I just orbit.”

Zani gave you a deadpan look, but it didn’t last long. Her hand stayed wrapped loosely around yours.

Rover gave a tight smile, chuckling under his breath. “Huh. I guess I didn’t know she was…seeing anyone.”

“Eight years,” you beamed proudly, clearly oblivious—or just too sweet to care about the moment’s awkwardness. “We met when she broke a guy’s arm outside a bank. It was very romantic.”

Zani exhaled softly. “He was attempting to detonate a briefcase full of toxin-laced currency.”

“Still,” you winked. “She saved the city and stole my heart.”

Zani looked mildly mortified, but there was a ghost of laughter behind her eyes.

Rover, ever the professional even when his ego was quietly sliding down a gutter, gave a short nod. “You two…suit each other.”

“Thanks, man,” you said brightly. “She keeps me from floating away, and I remind her it’s okay to sleep occasionally. Balance!”

Zani, still holding your hand, met Rover’s gaze.

“I hope you weren’t misled,” she said evenly. “I appreciate your company and your assistance. But I do not reciprocate your interest.”

It wasn’t cruel. It was just Zani: honest, efficient, measured.

Rover swallowed around the sting and nodded. “No. That’s fair. Thanks for being straight with me.”

He turned toward the counter, mumbling something about getting coffee. You squeezed Zani’s hand and pulled her gently into a booth by the window, oblivious to the tension that had just dissipated like steam.

Once seated, you reached into the pastry box and offered her a raspberry tart. “For your overtime heart.”

She shook her head faintly, but accepted it anyway.

As you babbled on about your day—some mess involving a lost cat and a broken hover scooter—Zani rested her chin on one gloved hand, watching you with quiet fondness.

There, behind the stoicism and elegance, the horns and slitted pupils, was a woman utterly at ease. A woman loved—and loving in return.

And somewhere behind the counter, a barista handed Rover a paper cup and said, “Rough day?”

He chuckled. “Just realized some stars aren’t meant to be caught. They’ve already got their sky.”