#shortnfreaky

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

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

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

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

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

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

Michael’s eyes widened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, there’s a cry. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family pictures, a great idea in theory, right? I mean what could possibly go wrong while trying to get your two toddlers, your husband, and your heavily pregnant self to take some nice pictures. 

The answer was a lot of things.

A lot of things could go wrong actually.

You honestly don’t know why you thought today would go smoothly. Seriously, trying to get two rowdy toddlers to sit still and smile, why did you think that would be easy. Especially when you were so heavily pregnant at this point, that Michael was the only one able to run after them currently. 

“Prince, get back here!” You hear Michael warn, chasing after the four year old who was running from him. 

“You’re going to put this vest on, mister!” Michael said through gritted teeth.

Bless him, he tried to never yell or be mean to the kids, not ever wanting to be like his own father. Prince tested him though, he was a rowdy and stubborn little thing. You shake your head as you watch Michael continue to chase after him. You bring your attention back down to your three year old daughter, Paris. You section her hair, beginning to braid her pigtails. 

“Mommy?” She asks.

“Yes, baby?” You respond.

“Why is brother running from daddy?” Paris questions curiously.

You sigh softly, “Because he doesn’t want to wear the vest daddy is trying to put on him.”

Paris is quiet for a moment, “Too bad he can’t wear a pretty dress like me and you, mommy.” 

That makes you laugh as you finish off her braids, “I guess that is too bad, honey.” You smile.

Then you hear a thud and crying in the distance, Michael must’ve finally caught him.

Paris doesn’t even seem phased, it’s not abnormal for Michael to have to chase her older brother around these days. 

She pokes at your bump, “Why can’t the baby be in the pictures, mommy?”

You look down at her in your lap, smiling softly as you smooth out her dress, “Well, because your baby brother hasn’t come out to meet us yet.” You explain.

Paris pouts slightly, “Well that’s sad, I want pictures with him.” 

You chuckle softly at your daughter, “When baby brother comes, we’ll get some pictures with him, don’t worry.” 

That makes her grin, “I wish he would come out already”

You bring her to stand up with you, walking over to the full length mirror, “Me too, honey. I’m just as ready to meet him as you are.”

You were probably more than ready for him to come finally. You were getting sick of being exhausted all the time and aching everywhere.

Paris takes a good look at both your reflections in the mirror, “We look pretty, mommy.” She smiles, looking up at you.

You nod, smoothing down her hair, “Very pretty.” You confirm. She was in a red babydoll dress that had a white collar, with white frilly socks to match. Your own dress was coordinating with hers.

“Prince, you have to wear this vest. If you don’t stop crying I’m going to grind you up into a hamburger.” You hear Michael sternly tell your son.

Dear god, last time Michael threatened Prince with that, he wouldn’t eat hamburgers for 2 months. “Michael, don’t tell him that!” You yell.

Your husband comes walking back into the large living room, this time with Prince in hand, who is now sobbing with his vest on. You frown slightly at seeing him so upset, even though you know it’s just a silly toddler tantrum. You squat down to his level, as best as you can at least for being 8 months pregnant.

“Baby, why are you crying?” You ask gently, cupping your son’s cheek.

Prince sniffles, “I don’t like this vest.” He pouts even more, crossing his arms.

“I think you look handsome, honey. Just like daddy.” You assure, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.

Prince just shakes his head in response, still sniffling. “Look, I just need you to wear it for an hour, just so we can get some good pictures. Can’t you do that for me and daddy?” You ask, pausing for a moment. “I’ll tell you what, afterwards I’ll make your favorite for dinner, spaghetti.”

That gets him to dry it up, nodding with a little smile now. You wipe some stray tears from his cheeks. “Thank you, baby.” You smile at him, kissing his cheek and wrapping him up in a hug.

Michael watches you with a lovesick smile on his face, god he loves watching you be a mom. In his eyes you were the best mom that your children could ever need. He helps you up after Prince walks off to go watch cartoons with his sister on the couch.

His hands find your hips immediately, “You’re the best mama, honey.”

You chuckle softly, he loves that sound so much, “I try.”

Michael brings you in for a quick kiss, he takes in your appearance. You were wearing a red dress with white detailing, matching with Paris. It was tight around your torso, showing the swell of your large bump, where your soon to be third child was safely tucked away. He loved your bump, he was absolutely infatuated with it, he was with every pregnancy you’ve had. His large hand comes to gently caress the bump. 

“You are so beautiful, mama.” He whispers, “Can’t wait for this little one to come meet us.”

You smile, looking down at your bump, “I know…” Your eyes flick back up to meet his own, “But until then, are you ready to get these kids to sit still and smile for the camera for an hour?” You ask.

Michael huffs out a laugh, “No, not really.” He answers honestly.

You chuckle softly at him, “But we’re gonna do it anyway?” 

He grins, nodding, “Yeah, we’re gonna do it anyways.”

no seriously just look at him. these kids kept my man TIREDD

Your body has changed. After three beautiful babies, it was bound to do that. 

And Michael loved it.

Especially right after you had Paris. 

Prince and Paris were born so close together, that your body had no time to recover much, it only got thicker. Your hips thickened up, your ass became even more plush, and your tits had just about doubled in size. 

Your husband was an absolute fein for it, and everybody around him knew it. He wasn’t exactly subtle with his adoration. Michael would stare at you across the room. If you were near him, one of his hands always found its way onto your hip, softly groping the flesh. He also loved slapping your ass with a boyish grin whenever he came up from behind you. 

His family would constantly make jokes and tease him about it. 

One time at a family function, Michael just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, even when you were on the other side of the room. Janet had noticed it, coming up behind her brother and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“Y’know, I think y/n thickening up has broken you.” She teased with a smile.

Michael just looked at her, huffing out a laugh and shaking his head, before glancing back over at you. He didn’t deny it, because Janet wasn’t wrong. It had broken him, it plagued his mind constantly.

As a couple years passed, you lost a bit of the weight. You still had all the assets, and they were still all definitely bigger than they were before kids, but they were not as plush as before. It was honestly bound to happen with how much you had to chase Prince around, he was one handful of a toddler, always into something. It had saddened Michael a little bit, he missed it. Of course, he would never tell you that, he thought you were beautiful regardless, and he didn’t want you thinking otherwise. It actually physically pained him when you thought otherwise.

Luckily for him though, in 2002 you welcomed your third baby, Blanket. And with that, came all that plushness back. With that also came more jokes from Michael’s family about his obsession with it, but he didn’t care.

You had just put the two month old to sleep for the night, laying him in his crib. For a moment you just stared at him in awe, he truly did look so much like his father. Those darling black tufts of curls on top of his head, dark eyebrows that strikingly resembled Michael’s, even now as just a newborn. Though you couldn’t see them right now, he had those same big doe eyes like his father’s. That might’ve been your favorite part, you found yourself getting lost into Blanket’s eyes all the time. You smiled softly, smoothing down his hair, and murmuring an “I love you”.

When Michael found you, you were in the bedroom. You didn’t notice him come in, too occupied with folding tiny baby clothes on top of the dresser. He came up behind you, pressing into your back, his hands found your hips. You jumped slightly, startled by his sudden appearance. “Jesus, you scared me.” You huff out a laugh. 

Michael hummed, pressing kisses from your neck, down to your shoulder, “‘M sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to scare ya’.” 

“Any trouble getting Prince and Paris to sleep?” You ask, continuing to fold another onesie. 

Michael shakes his head, “Nope, read ‘em a bedtime story, and they were out like a light before I even got halfway through. What about Blanket?” 

“I nursed him and he was out.” You smile softly. 

There’s a beat of silence.

“He’s a lucky lil’ thing.” Michael sighs, his breath fanning over your neck. 

You snort, “What?” 

Michael brings his large hands up to cup your breasts through the material of your shirt, “He gets these pretty things all to himself.” 

You laugh, “Are you serious right now?” 

He nodded against your neck, “Absolutely, you’re just so gorgeous. S’ full in all the right places.” 

“Michael.” You murmur bashfully.

You knew your husband loved how much thicker you had gotten since having three kids. He wasn’t good at hiding how much he loved it, at all. Michael wasn’t inconspicuous with it in the slightest.

“You’re just so soft and pretty right now, mama.” He smiled, one hand splaying across your tummy, which was now soft as one normally is during postpartum. 

“This body gave me three perfect babies, and it still looks as beautiful as ever.” Michael whispered, his tone soft and smooth like always.

You turn around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you face him now. You press a kiss to his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you too, forever.” Michael whispers, resting his forehead against yours. 

You feel his hand squeeze your ass, “You’re insatiable, Mr. Jackson.” You shake your head, smiling.

You were sitting on your and Michael’s bed, grimacing in pain whilst holding a warmed damp rag to your breast. In the next room in his crib, sleeping soundly, completely unaware of your discomfort was your newborn son, Prince. It has been a little bit over a month now since you and your husband welcomed your first baby into the world. Everything had been wonderful so far, sure there were sleepless nights and times where Prince just cried for hours it felt like, but it was worth it. Worth all the exhaustion, tears, and meltdowns, all of it was worth it. Getting to watch Michael be a father has been one of the most beautiful things you have witnessed. Being a dad was something he has wanted for so, so long, and now to be able to see that dream of his come true, it made your heart so full that you felt like it could actually burst. You adored your baby so much, there have been so many nights where you and Michael have just watched him sleep, like if you blinked he would disappear, almost like your minds couldn’t comprehend having something so perfect. 

So yeah, everything has been amazing.

Until now today that was, because you had woken up with a clogged milk duct this morning, for the first time. 

And you had been expecting to get one eventually. Nurses and lactation consultants at the hospital had told you that it was something that could happen, and they made sure to explain all you can do to get in unclogged.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to hurt so damn bad. I mean seriously, it felt like somebody had beaten up your boob while you were sleeping. It was so painful and tender feeling.

What you also hadn’t expected was for none of the remedies to work. No seriously, you had done everything the nurses told you to do.

All of it.

The whole list, top to bottom, bottom to top. 

None of it had worked.

You had tried letting Prince nurse on that breast, to see if he could suck it out just by nursing. Nope, that didn’t work.

You had taken a warm shower, then massaged it to try to get things moving back on track. Yeah, that didn’t work either. 

You had used an icepack in an attempt to reduce the swelling. That didn’t really help either.

You even pulled out the manual breast pump to try and get it out yourself. That one didn’t work. Shocker, right?

Then you repeated all of those things.

Multiple times. 

To no avail obviously, because you were still sitting here in pain. 

When Michael walked into the bedroom and saw the grimace on your face, his own face immediately dropped. He came over to sit next to you, the bed dipping under his weight.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks softly, concern etched onto his features as he looks over you.

You look at him with a small frown, dropping the warm rag onto the side table in defeat, “I have a clogged milk duct.”

His face softens, “Clogged milk duct, huh?” 

You nod, “I’ve tried everything, Michael, literally everything.” You rub your hands over your face. “I’ve tried letting Prince nurse to get it out, I tried pumping it myself, warm compress, massaging. All of it. Nothing has worked.”

“Well, you haven’t tried everything.” Your husband suggests, rubbing his hand up and down your arm soothingly. 

You look at him, perking up a bit, “What haven’t I tried?” You question.

Michael looks down for a moment, before looking back up at you. “I could try to suck it out.” 

You blink in surprise at his offer, “I don’t know, angelface. I mean it would be gross, a clump might come out and-”

“It’s not gross, that’s how our son eats. It’s amazing that your body can do that.” He cuts you off.

You shake your head, “I’m not saying breastfeeding is gross, I’m saying the clump that may come out is gross.”

“It’s not gross to me.” Michael shakes his head, “C’mon, mama. Let me help you, you’re in pain.” 

You bite your lip, hesitating, but you end up nodding. “Okay.” You whisper.

Michael smiles softly once you agree, gently pushing you back onto the bed. “Lay down for me, baby.” He softly instructs.

You let him push you back until you were laying down on the plush mattress. Michael hovers over you, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Gonna make it feel better, ‘kay baby?”

You nod as he scoots down until his face is level with your breast. Then he gently takes your nipple into his mouth, beginning to suckle at it. One hand is massaging your tit, his other hand is supporting his weight on top of you. It is almost immediate relief, you can slowly feel the pressure in your tit loosen up as Michael continues massaging and sucking it.

Then you feel it come out, all pain in your breast resolving right after. You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. You feel Michael swallow before he unlatches from you with a wet pop. “Did I get it?” He asks, sitting up.

You nod, “Yeah, it feels so much better.” You let him pull you back up to sit. You pull your shirt back down.

He brings you into a kiss, “Good, I told you I’d make it feel better.” 

“Was there a clump?” You ask.

Michael shakes his head, “I don’t think so, if there was I swallowed it.”

“Mike!” You squeak shyly.

“C’mon sweetheart, can’t let any of it go to waste.” He smiles at you softly.

The baby monitor goes off then, small cries coming through it. Both your heads turn to look at it, then you turn back to look at each other. Michael gets up first, offering his hand to help you up, you take it, standing up with him. He brings you closer to him, hands resting on your hips. He kisses you, resting his forehead against yours. 

“I think he may want your boob now.” Your husband teases with a grin.

You scoff, smiling despite yourself, “Shut up.” You teasingly push Michael’s chest, he laughs, that boyish laugh that you love. 

When Prince first learned to walk, you and Michael had never been more overjoyed and proud. 

You and Michael had been playing with him in the spacious playroom. When you got up to go use the bathroom, Prince had just stood up and waddled after you like he had known how to his whole life. Michael’s jaw had dropped.

“Sweetheart…” He had gasped, causing you to turn around. That’s when you saw your perfect little blonde haired boy taking small steps towards you. 

Your baby boy had taken his first steps trying to follow after you.

You had immediately started crying, crouching back down with your arms stretched out for him; and after a few more wobbly steps, Prince had reached your embrace, giggling happily.

“Michael, he just walked…” You huffed out a wet laugh, completely in disbelief, tears streaming down your face.

Your husband came over, scooping up your son, “Good job, applehead!” He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to Prince’s forehead. 

Now, 2 weeks later, you and Michael weren’t so overjoyed anymore. 

Because now? Now Prince was getting into everything and anything. 

This tiny, blonde haired, mischievous ten month old boy was now wreaking havoc on Neverland Ranch. 

And now you weren’t crying out of joy. 

Your tears were out of pure stress now.

And hormones.

Yeah, because if this time wasn’t already stressful enough, you had also found out you were pregnant again. 

Which you and Michael were so excited about. It wasn’t necessarily the plan to be pregnant again this soon, but nonetheless you were happy. 

However, morning sickness, which seemed to be more like all day sickness this pregnancy, did not necessarily mix well with a small human who had just realized how to use his legs to his advantage.

So lately, your mornings consisted of you puking your guts out into the toilet. Meanwhile, you only heard thuds and crashes as Prince got into something else he wasn’t supposed to. Then, you’d hear Michael get onto him in the distance, and then this whole process would repeat over and over again.

The bathroom door creaking open snapped you out of your thoughts. You lifted your head up slightly to look at Michael coming in with Prince in his arms. 

“Feelin’ any better, mama?” He asks softly. 

You shake your head, “Not at all.” You mumble back hoarsely.

Michael frowns as he looks down at you. You’re sitting right next to the toilet, arms propping your head up on the seat, your hair is pulled back into a messy ponytail, and you look so pale. 

You sniffle, “I just feel so terrible.” you sob.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Michael murmurs softly. He hated nothing more than seeing you upset. 

He comes to sit next to you on the cold bathroom floor, setting Prince down. “Look, mama is sick, and you’re being bad instead of making her feel better.” Michael tells your son. 

His big brown eyes look between you and his daddy. Prince waddles over to you, coming to curl up in your lap, wrapping his little arms around you. Those big eyes look up at you, “I sowwy, mama.” 

You sniffle again, smiling softly down at your son, “It’s okay, baby. Mama just isn’t feeling too good.” You rub up and down his small back.

Michael brings his hand up to wipe the tears off your cheek. 

“I just feel so useless right now, I’m in here instead of helping you with him.” You sniffle.

Michael shakes his head, still cupping your cheek, “You’re not useless, don’t say that. You are carrying another perfect baby for us, not even a year after having him. That’s a lot of work, way more than I can do.”

You nod slowly, “Thank you.” You mumble, laying your head on his shoulder.

“I’m just telling you the truth, sweetheart.” Your husband assures, rubbing small circles on your back.

It’s silent for a moment, you glance up at him, “We’re going to have two babies here soon.” 

Michael smiles at you, “Yeah.”

You huff out a laugh, “We’re gonna have our work cut out for us.” 

Family pictures, a great idea in theory, right? I mean what could possibly go wrong while trying to get your two toddlers, your husband, and your heavily pregnant self to take some nice pictures. 

The answer was a lot of things.

A lot of things could go wrong actually.

You honestly don’t know why you thought today would go smoothly. Seriously, trying to get two rowdy toddlers to sit still and smile, why did you think that would be easy. Especially when you were so heavily pregnant at this point, that Michael was the only one able to run after them currently. 

“Prince, get back here!” You hear Michael warn, chasing after the four year old who was running from him. 

“You’re going to put this vest on, mister!” Michael said through gritted teeth.

Bless him, he tried to never yell or be mean to the kids, not ever wanting to be like his own father. Prince tested him though, he was a rowdy and stubborn little thing. You shake your head as you watch Michael continue to chase after him. You bring your attention back down to your three year old daughter, Paris. You section her hair, beginning to braid her pigtails. 

“Mommy?” She asks.

“Yes, baby?” You respond.

“Why is brother running from daddy?” Paris questions curiously.

You sigh softly, “Because he doesn’t want to wear the vest daddy is trying to put on him.”

Paris is quiet for a moment, “Too bad he can’t wear a pretty dress like me and you, mommy.” 

That makes you laugh as you finish off her braids, “I guess that is too bad, honey.” You smile.

Then you hear a thud and crying in the distance, Michael must’ve finally caught him.

Paris doesn’t even seem phased, it’s not abnormal for Michael to have to chase her older brother around these days. 

She pokes at your bump, “Why can’t the baby be in the pictures, mommy?”

You look down at her in your lap, smiling softly as you smooth out her dress, “Well, because your baby brother hasn’t come out to meet us yet.” You explain.

Paris pouts slightly, “Well that’s sad, I want pictures with him.” 

You chuckle softly at your daughter, “When baby brother comes, we’ll get some pictures with him, don’t worry.” 

That makes her grin, “I wish he would come out already”

You bring her to stand up with you, walking over to the full length mirror, “Me too, honey. I’m just as ready to meet him as you are.”

You were probably more than ready for him to come finally. You were getting sick of being exhausted all the time and aching everywhere.

Paris takes a good look at both your reflections in the mirror, “We look pretty, mommy.” She smiles, looking up at you.

You nod, smoothing down her hair, “Very pretty.” You confirm. She was in a red babydoll dress that had a white collar, with white frilly socks to match. Your own dress was coordinating with hers.

“Prince, you have to wear this vest. If you don’t stop crying I’m going to grind you up into a hamburger.” You hear Michael sternly tell your son.

Dear god, last time Michael threatened Prince with that, he wouldn’t eat hamburgers for 2 months. “Michael, don’t tell him that!” You yell.

Your husband comes walking back into the large living room, this time with Prince in hand, who is now sobbing with his vest on. You frown slightly at seeing him so upset, even though you know it’s just a silly toddler tantrum. You squat down to his level, as best as you can at least for being 8 months pregnant.

“Baby, why are you crying?” You ask gently, cupping your son’s cheek.

Prince sniffles, “I don’t like this vest.” He pouts even more, crossing his arms.

“I think you look handsome, honey. Just like daddy.” You assure, fixing the collar of his dress shirt.

Prince just shakes his head in response, still sniffling. “Look, I just need you to wear it for an hour, just so we can get some good pictures. Can’t you do that for me and daddy?” You ask, pausing for a moment. “I’ll tell you what, afterwards I’ll make your favorite for dinner, spaghetti.”

That gets him to dry it up, nodding with a little smile now. You wipe some stray tears from his cheeks. “Thank you, baby.” You smile at him, kissing his cheek and wrapping him up in a hug.

Michael watches you with a lovesick smile on his face, god he loves watching you be a mom. In his eyes you were the best mom that your children could ever need. He helps you up after Prince walks off to go watch cartoons with his sister on the couch.

His hands find your hips immediately, “You’re the best mama, honey.”

You chuckle softly, he loves that sound so much, “I try.”

Michael brings you in for a quick kiss, he takes in your appearance. You were wearing a red dress with white detailing, matching with Paris. It was tight around your torso, showing the swell of your large bump, where your soon to be third child was safely tucked away. He loved your bump, he was absolutely infatuated with it, he was with every pregnancy you’ve had. His large hand comes to gently caress the bump. 

“You are so beautiful, mama.” He whispers, “Can’t wait for this little one to come meet us.”

You smile, looking down at your bump, “I know…” Your eyes flick back up to meet his own, “But until then, are you ready to get these kids to sit still and smile for the camera for an hour?” You ask.

Michael huffs out a laugh, “No, not really.” He answers honestly.

You chuckle softly at him, “But we’re gonna do it anyway?” 

He grins, nodding, “Yeah, we’re gonna do it anyways.”

no seriously just look at him. these kids kept my man TIREDD

It was like being away from him physically pained you now, even if he was just going to the bathroom. It was to the point that if you could crawl into his skin, you would, and Michael wouldn’t complain about it either. 

“I’m gonna go get a glass of water. I’ll be right back, ‘kay?” Michael suddenly spoke, unwrapping his arms from around you and starting to sit up off the couch. 

Your eyes flick away from the television and onto his face. You pout, grabbing his wrist as he stands up. “Mikey wait, I’ll come with you.” 

He grins softly, “Honey, you don’t have to, I’ll be real quick, promise.”

You shake your head, getting up off the couch, which was easier said than done when you were eight and half months pregnant. When you finally did get up, with Michael’s help, you grasped his hand as you followed him into the kitchen. 

Michael grabbed a glass out of the cabinets, setting it on the counter before looking back at you. “Do you want a glass too? ‘Need to stay hydrated for the baby.” 

You nod, “Yes please, angelface.” 

With that he grabbed another glass, setting it on the counter right next to his own. He grabbed the cold pitcher of water out of the fridge, pouring some into each glass, letting a couple of ice cubes fall into each one. You watched him with a lovesick smile.

“You’re staring.” Michael pointed out softly, sliding your glass to you. 

You hum, “I just love you.”

“You love watching me pour you a glass of water?” He asks with a boyish grin.

You nod, coming over to hug him, laying your head on his chest, “I love everything you do.” 

Michael rubs his hand up and down your back, “Such a clingy mama.” 

“‘m sorry.” You murmur. 

He shakes his head, “None of that, I love it when you’re clingy.”

“I guess I’m just trying to enjoy the time we have left alone before baby boy joins us.” You whisper.

Michael’s hand comes to rest on your bump. “Yeah, can’t wait for him to be here with us though. ‘Ready to see you be a mama.” He smiles softly.

You smile back, “And I’m ready to see you be a daddy.”

“You’re gonna be the best mama.” Michael says, kissing your forehead.

"Guys!" Johnny exclaimed, speeding into the lab where the rest of you were sat.

Nobody heard him, or maybe they did and were just ignoring him. "Guys!" He says again, standing in front of you all now.

You turn to look at him, taking your attention off of Reed's rambling in front of his chalk board, "What is it, babe?" You ask.

"I did something, you guys need to come see this." Johnny rambles, clearly caught up and excited in whatever it was that he's done.

"Not now, Johnny. We're kind of busy here." Ben tells him.

Sue nods, readjusting Franklin on her lap, giving her brother an apologetic smile, "Sorry Johnny, Ben's right though."

Johnny lets his arms fall to his sides, a sigh escaping him, "Alright." He mutters before walking out of the lab.

You let your eyes follow him as he walks out, a slight frown on your face. "I'll be right back." You tell Sue, excusing yourself as you leave the room. You make a beeline towards yours and Johnny's room, knowing that's probably where he's at.

You slowly creak the door open, stepping in slowly before clicking the door shut behind you, "Babe." You call, seeing Johnny sitting in the arm chair, headphones on. There's papers all over the floor, he takes his headphones off, looking at you. "What did you figure out?" You ask. Johnny smiles at you, getting out of the chair and urging you to sit down. You oblige, as Johnny grabs his space helmet, "Okay, put this on." He says, helping place it over your head. Once he has it on you, he flips the visor down, pressing a few buttons to show you the video of that mysterious silver alien that the helmet had captured.

It was quick video, it was Johnny asking what she had said to him a few weeks prior in her own language. She responded, telling him what it meant, then the video ended. Johnny quickly took the helmet off of your head. He unplugged the headphones from the record player, playing you the audio of her language that Reed had captured before this all went down. You looked at him quizzically, "So what does this mean?" You ask.

"I've been listening to all of these recordings over and over again." He pauses, coming to kneel down in front of you, "And, I've been working on trying to translate everything. I finally did, I've figured out her language." He speaks.

You grin at your boyfriend, "Johnny, this is incredible. We have to tell the others."

Johnny shrugged, "Well, they didn't seem to take me very serious."

You stand up, pulling him up with you. You rest your hand on his cheek, "I think they're just worried, we all are." You say softly.

He nods, "I know. I just wish they'd take me seriously. They just think of me as Johnny. Johnny who loves women, Johnny who's mischievous, Johnny who isn't smart."

"You are smart, Johnny. You just translated a whole unknown silver, naked alien language." You scold lightly.

Your boyfriend just smiles at you, "Thank you." He pauses, "Thank you for taking me seriously, for always being by my side." Johnny whispers, letting his hands rest on your hips as he pulls you in for a kiss.

"Always, Johnny." You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Jesus, I love you so much." He murmurs, pressing your foreheads together.

"I think you're going soft on me, hotshot." You laughed.

Johnny raised an eyebrow, "You sure about that?" He asked, that boyish grin on his face.

"Yeah." You whispered.

"Guess I got to prove you wrong then." He grinned, picking you up bridal style, throwing you onto the bed as he hovers above you.

"Johnny!" You giggle, "I promised Sue that I'd be right back."

"Hmmm..." Johnny pretended to think, tapping a finger on his chin, "Nope, don't think so. Think I gotta keep you right here and show you how much I love ya'."

You shook your head lightly at his antics, "Guess I can't say no to that."