Summary: Michael and Y/N attend the world music awards in 2006.
Authors note: he looked so beautiful and happy to be there. Sheās a big one; features anxious mature Michael, sleeping babies and a sneak peek into their life in their 40s.
~~~~~~~~~
London, 2006.
The roar started long before they reached the red carpet.
Inside the limousine, Michael sat quietly beside Y/N, his hand resting against her knee as London glittered outside the windows. Camera flashes were already exploding against the glass despite the fact that they had not yet arrived at the venue.
He watched the lights silently.
For all his fame, for all the decades he had spent standing in front of screaming crowds, there were still moments when anxiety settled heavily in his chest.
Years away from the spotlight had changed him.
Fatherhood had changed him.
Marriage had changed him.
The relentless need to constantly prove himself had softened beneath family dinners, bedtime stories, school runs, and mornings spent drinking tea with Y/N while their children argued over cereal.
For years, that life had been enough.
More than enough.
It had been everything.
But tonight was different.
Tonight he was stepping back into the world.
And he wasn't entirely sure the world wanted him anymore.
The thought lingered quietly as he adjusted the cuff of his jacket.
Beside him, Y/N noticed immediately.
She always did, reaching over and threading her fingers through his.
"You've gone quiet."
Michael offered a small smile.
"I'm thinking."
"Thatās always a worry."
His laugh was soft.
She squeezed his hand.
"Nervous?"
He hesitated.
"A little."
"A little?"
He looked at her.
"A lot."
The honesty made her smile.
After twenty-five years together there was no point pretending.
She shifted closer.
The movement caused the diamonds around her neck to catch the interior lights.
Michael stared for a second.
God.
She looked breathtaking..
She looked like royalty.
Her gown flowed in liquid black silk, elegant and timeless, hugging her figure before falling effortlessly to the floor. Her hair was swept into a sophisticated style that exposed the graceful line of her neck, while diamonds glittered at her ears and wrists.
She looked like someone who belonged beside kings.
Which, Michael supposed, was fitting.
Because she had spent decades standing beside the King of Pop as his Queen.
Only unlike everyone else, she'd loved the man long before the title.
"You keep staring at me."
"I know."
She laughed.
"You've been staring since we left the hotel."
"I can't help it."
His voice softened.
"You look incredible."
The compliment still made her blush after all these years.
"You don't look too bad yourself."
Michael rolled his eyes.
She reached up and adjusted his lapel.
The gesture was intimate, automatic.
The sort of thing only a wife would do.
The sort of thing cameras rarely saw.
"Michael."
"Hm?"
"They still love you."
His eyes flickered toward the darkened window.
"You don't know that."
"I do."
She smiled.
"Because I know you."
Outside, the crowd erupted.
The limousine had arrived.
The noise hit them like a physical force.
Michael blinked.
Then blinked again.
The screaming only grew louder.
And louder.
And louder.
His expression changed instantly.
"Oh my God."
Y/N laughed.
"Told you."
~~~~~~~~
The moment they stepped from the car, London descended into complete chaos.
Flashbulbs exploded.
Fans screamed.
Security immediately formed a protective circle around them.
Yet even through the noise, one thing became immediately clear.
Nobody had forgotten Michael Jackson.
Not even close.
Thousands of voices echoed through the night.
"MICHAEL! Y/N!ā
"WE LOVE YOU!"
"KING OF POP!"
"MICHAEL OVER HERE!"
He froze for half a second, completely overwhelmed.
Then the smile appeared, that famous smile, the one he hated.
The one that transformed his entire face and the one Y/N loved most.
The crowd somehow became even louder.
Michael laughed in disbelief before raising a hand.
The reaction was instantaneous.
People screamed so loudly that Y/N genuinely wondered if the nearby buildings might collapse.
He looked at her with wide eyes.
She simply mouthed,"See?"
His grin widened.
Then instinct took over, the performer returned.
The born entertainer.
The man who had spent his entire life loving people and being loved in return.
Michael moved toward the barriers.
Security nearly had a heart attack.
Fans burst into tears.
He signed programs.
Signed photographs.
Signed jackets.
Signed hats.
Reached for hands.
Quickly spoke to people.
Thanked them repeatedly.
And through it all, Y/N remained beside him.
Equally radiant.
Equally gracious.
She stopped to hug women who were crying.
Accepted flowers, before passing to security.
Thanked fans.
Asked names.
Laughed.
Smiled.
And looked entirely at ease.
Reporters couldn't stop photographing them.
Not because Michael Jackson was there.
That wasn't unusual.
It was because Michael Jackson and his wife were there.
Together.
Comfortable.
Happy.
Unmistakably in love.
The years away had done something remarkable.
Instead of creating distance between them, they appeared more united than ever.
When Michael moved forward, his hand automatically settled against Y/N's waist.
When she paused, he waited.
When she laughed, he looked at her.
Every gesture was unconscious.
Natural.
Married.
And people couldn't stop noticing.
~~~~~~
Inside the venue, the attention only intensified.
The audience rose to their feet the moment they entered.
Applause thundered throughout the room.
Michael visibly froze again.
The reception was far beyond anything he had anticipated.
For years he had quietly feared irrelevance.
Tonight shattered that fear within seconds.
The standing ovation seemed endless.
And when they finally reached their seats in the balcony, he looked almost emotional.
Y/N squeezed his hand.
"You okay, honey?"
He nodded.
Then shook his head and laughed.
"No."
She smiled.
"Good."
~~~~~~~~
Later, during a break, a host managed to catch Y/N as cameras moved through the audience, interviewing stars.
"Mrs Jackson, how are the children?"
The question instantly transformed her face.
Every trace of glamour disappeared beneath pure maternal pride.
Her smile became softer.
Warmer.
Real.
"Oh, they're wonderful."
The audience practically melted.
"They're growing so fast. They're happy, healthy, and keeping us very busy."
The reporter laughed.
"Do they know how famous their parents are?"
Y/N glanced toward Michael.
Michael immediately covered his face.
The crowd laughed.
"Honestly?" she said. "Most days we are just mommy and daddy."
The room erupted.
And for perhaps the first time all evening, people weren't seeing icons, they were just seeing parents.
~~~~~~~
When the time finally came for Michael's award, the Diamond Award, 100 million albums world wide. The entire venue stood before he even reached the stage.
The applause was deafening.
Michael walked toward the podium looking almost stunned.
For a brief moment he simply stood there.
Taking it in.
The faces.
The cheers.
The love.
The years.
Everything.
Then he spoke.
His voice was softer now than it had once been.
Older.
Gentler.
But somehow more sincere.
"I want to thank God."
The audience applauded.
"I want to thank my fans around the world."
More applause.
Then he paused.
His gaze moved toward the balcony where Y/N sat.
Their eyes met instantly.
The smile that appeared on his face changed completely.
The superstar disappeared.
The husband remained.
"And most importantly..."
His voice caught slightly.
"...I want to thank my wife."
The room erupted.
Y/N's eyes widened.
Michael never did this publicly.
Almost never.
He continued.
"For supporting me. For helping me with Thriller. For believing in me. For loving me."
The audience collectively melted.
"And to our children."
His smile grew.
"Daddy loves you very much."
By the time he finished speaking, Y/N was blinking rapidly.
Trying very hard not to cry and failing spectacularly.
~~~~~~
Then something unexpected happened.
Something nobody had planned.
Something that perfectly captured Michael Jackson.
The orchestra and the kids choir began playing the opening notes of we are the world.
The audience immediately recognised it.
Voices joined in.
Tentatively at first.
Then stronger.
Louder.
Thousands of people singing together.
Michael looked toward the stage.
Then toward the crowd.
Then back toward the stage.
The familiar spark appeared.
Y/N knew that expression.
Uh oh.
He was about to do something.
Sure enough, Michael stood.
The crowd exploded.
Within moments he was on stage.
Laughing.
Pointing the microphone toward the audience.
Encouraging them.
Conducting them.
Singing with them.
Not performing.
Sharing.
Touching hands and even throwing them his jacket.
And the joy radiating from him was impossible to miss.
The years seemed to disappear.
The uncertainty disappeared.
The fear disappeared.
All that remained was Michael doing what he had always loved most.
Connecting with people.
From her seat, Y/N watched quietly.
The lights reflected in her eyes.
A smile played across her lips.
Pride swelled inside her chest until it almost hurt.
Because she knew what nobody else knew.
She knew the doubts.
The sleepless nights.
The private fears.
The moments he'd wondered whether he still mattered.
And now she was watching thousands of people answer that question for him.
The answer was obvious.
They loved him.
They always had.
They always would.
Michael looked over the audience.
Then found her.
Instantly.
As if he always could.
As if he always would.
The noise of the room seemed to disappear for a second.
His eyes locked onto hers.
And he smiled.
Not the smile for the cameras.
Not the smile for the fans.
Not the smile for history.
The smile meant only for Y/N.
The one she'd been collecting for more than twenty five years.
The one that still made her heart skip.
When he finally returned to his seat, breathless and glowing with adrenaline, he immediately reached for her hand.
Their fingers intertwined and neither letting go.
And as the applause continued around them, Michael leaned close enough that only she could hear him.
"You were right."
Y/N turned.
"About what?"
His eyes shone.
"They didn't forget me."
Her expression softened.
She brought his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles.
"No, darling, never."
Around them, the audience was still cheering.
Still standing.
Still celebrating.
But in that moment it felt as though they were entirely alone.
Just a husband and wife.
Still in love.
Still holding hands.
Still choosing each other after all these years.
And for Michael, standing in the glow of a world that had welcomed him home, there was no award more important than that.
~~~~~~~~~~
The after-party was held in one of London's grand waterfront hotels, occupying an entire ballroom that glittered beneath crystal chandeliers and walls of glass overlooking the River Thames.
By the time Michael and Y/N arrived, word had already spread.
Not just that Michael Jackson had attended the awards.
Not just that he'd received a standing ovation.
But that Michael and Y/N Jackson had arrived together.
For younger artists, it felt almost mythical.
Many of them had grown up hearing stories about the marriage. They had seen photographs over the years, occasional glimpses during tours, charity events, premieres, but the couple had spent most of the last decade living quietly and privately.
As a result, their relationship had acquired an almost legendary quality.
People knew they were married.
People knew they had children.
But very few had actually witnessed them together.
Now they were.
And what surprised everyone wasn't grand declarations or dramatic romance.
It was how utterly natural they were.
The moment they entered the room, Michael's hand settled against the small of Y/N's back. The sort of touch that came from decades of loving someone.
As conversations began and guests approached, they moved through the room almost as if connected by an invisible thread.
Whenever Michael stopped to greet someone, Y/N naturally slowed beside him.
Whenever Y/N became engaged in conversation, Michael remained close enough to hear her laugh.
Neither seemed conscious of it.
Everyone else was.
Across the room people watched them with quiet fascination.
Because despite all the fame, despite the awards, despite the history attached to their names, they behaved less like celebrities and more like a couple who genuinely enjoyed each other's company.
A young singer approached nervously, clearly terrified.
Michael immediately smiled.
"Hello."
The poor man nearly forgot how words worked.
"IāI just wanted to say you're the reason I became a performer."
Michael's expression softened instantly.
The compliment clearly still affected him.
"Thank you."
Then, without missing a beat, he turned toward Y/N.
"This is my wife, Y/N."
Not Y/N.
Not my partner.
Not some polished celebrity introduction.
My wife.
The word fell from his lips so naturally it almost startled the young singer.
Michael said it with obvious pride.
As though introducing her remained one of his favourite things.
Y/N extended her hand warmly.
"It's lovely to meet you."
The singer shook it before turning back toward Michael.
"I honestly don't know what to say."
Michael laughed.
"That's okay. Most of us don't."
The tension immediately disappeared.
Soon they were discussing songwriting, touring, pressure, and longevity.
Michael answered thoughtfully.
Y/N occasionally added her own perspective.
Together they offered advice that felt less like instruction and more like encouragement.
Several younger performers later admitted that speaking with them felt like talking to the cool parents everyone wished they had.
Neither acted superior.
Neither acted important.
Despite having achieved more than almost anyone else in the room, they listened as much as they spoke.
As the evening progressed, people noticed other things.
Little things.
The details that couldn't be staged.
When a server appeared with drinks, Michael automatically took Y/N's first before accepting his own.
When she mentioned being cold near one of the open terrace doors, he immediately guided her further inside without interrupting his conversation.
At one point she absentmindedly reached to smooth a strand of hair away from his face.
He leaned into the touch without even thinking.
The gesture was over in seconds.
Yet three separate photographers nearly dropped their cameras.
Because intimacy wasn't what shocked people.
Comfort did.
This was not a new romance.
Not a couple still trying to impress each other.
This was something deeper.
Something settled.
The kind of affection built over decades.
The kind that became part of everyday life.
Later in the evening, while speaking with producers and executives, Michael became animatedly involved in a discussion about music.
Y/N was standing nearby.
Not directly beside him.
Just close.
As she laughed at something someone said, Michael reached out without looking and found her hand.
The movement was so automatic it almost seemed unconscious.
His fingers brushed hers.
Then intertwined.
Conversation continued uninterrupted.
Neither acknowledged it.
They simply stood there holding hands.
People absolutely noticed.
One producer quietly leaned toward another.
"How long have they been married now?"
"Over twenty years."
The producer stared.
"Seriously?"
The answer seemed impossible.
Most couples stopped touching each other like that after two decades.
Michael and Y/N looked as though they still genuinely preferred standing beside one another.
As midnight approached, the atmosphere softened.
The room became smaller.
More relaxed.
Guests began leaving.
Conversations became quieter.
Someone started playing piano near the far side of the ballroom.
Michael had spent most of the evening talking, laughing, shaking hands and accepting congratulations.
Yet every time Y/N entered his line of sight, his expression changed.
It softened.
Every single time.
As though he never quite got tired of seeing her.
Near one in the morning she walked over carrying two glasses of water.
"You need this."
Michael looked offended.
"I've had water."
"You've had orange juice."
"It's mostly water and vitamin c."
She raised an eyebrow.
He sighed dramatically and accepted the glass.
Several people nearby laughed.
One executive shook his head.
"King of Pop."
Michael pointed toward Y/N.
"She's the boss."
"Good and just you remember that" Y/N replied.
The group erupted with laughter.
~~~~~~~~
By the time they finally returned to the hotel, the evening felt worlds away.
The limousine ride was quiet.
Peaceful.
The adrenaline had begun to fade.
Michael leaned back against the seat with a contented sigh.
"I had fun."
"You did."
"I wasn't expecting that."
She smiled.
"I know."
Outside, the London skyline sparkled beneath the night sky.
Inside, Michael remained unusually reflective.
"I really thought..."
His voice faded.
"What?"
He looked down at their joined hands.
"I thought maybe people were finished with me."
The confession sat quietly between them.
Y/N squeezed his fingers.
"They were never finished with you."
Michael stared out the window.
A small smile appeared.
"No."
His voice was softer now.
"I guess not."
~~~~~~~~~~
The hotel suite was silent when they arrived.
No cameras.
No crowds.
No applause.
Just home or at least as close to home as travelling parents could manage.
The moment the door opened, superstar and fashion icon disappeared.
Mommy and Daddy arrived.
The children's nanny emerged from one of the adjoining rooms.
"They were wonderful."
Michael instantly relaxed.
"Everybody asleep?"
She nodded.
"Hours ago."
"Thank you."
After saying goodnight and ensuring everything was settled, both of them immediately went to check anyway.
Because parents always did.
The suite was dimly lit, moonlight filtered through partially open curtains.
Their children slept peacefully beneath tangled blankets.
Michael stood in the doorway for a moment.
Watching.
Smiling.
The expression on his face always changed around his children.
It became gentler, younger somehow.
He quietly adjusted a blanket before pressing a kiss against a sleeping forehead.
Across the room Y/N did the same.
The sight never failed to affect her.
No matter how many awards Michael won.
No matter how many stadiums he filled.
This remained her favourite version of him.
Daddy.
When they finally left the room, they closed the door softly behind them.
~~~~~~~
The rest of the evening unfolded in familiar rituals.
The glamorous gown disappeared.
The diamonds disappeared.
The suit disappeared, the stage make up and wig.
Soon Y/N was standing at the bathroom counter in a robe, carefully removing her makeup while Michael changed into soft pyjamas.
The transformation was almost comical, two hours earlier they had looked like royalty and now they looked like exhausted parents.
Michael sat on the edge of the bed watching her go through her nightly routine.
Creams.
Lotions.
Hairpins.
An endless collection of mysterious products he had never fully understood.
"You have more bottles than a pharmacy, girl."
She laughed.
"You've been saying that since the eighties."
"Because it's true, but I love it."
He stretched out across the mattress.
For a few moments neither spoke, the silence was comfortable, familiar.
One earned over decades.
Eventually Y/N climbed into bed beside him.
The suite was dark now, quiet.
Far removed from the chaos of the awards ceremony.
Michael rolled onto his side, looking at her.
Still looking, after all these years.
"You know" he said softly, "I don't think tonight would've gone the same without you."
She smiled. "Because I forced you to go?"
"Partly." He giggled.
She laughed.
His fingers found hers beneath the blankets, pulling her towards him.
"But mostly because whenever you're there, I feel brave."
The admission was so sincere it stole her breath for a moment.
Michael had spent his entire life being larger than life.
Yet moments like this revealed the truth.
He wasn't invincible, never had been.
He simply trusted her enough to let her see the parts nobody else did.
She leaned over and kissed him.
Tender.
Affectionate.
Home.
"You were wonderful tonight."
His smile was immediate.
"So were you."
For a while they lay together in the darkness, hands intertwined and wrapped around one another.
The sounds of London drifted faintly through the windows.
Their children slept safely in the next room.
The awards had been won.
The speeches had been given.
The crowds had cheered.
Yet somehow none of those things felt like the best part of the evening.
Because when all the glamour was stripped away, when the cameras disappeared and the world stopped watching, they were exactly what they had always been.
A husband and wife.
Two parents.
Two best friends.
And as sleep slowly pulled them under, Michael's hand remained wrapped around Y/N's, unwilling to let go even in dreams.
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DISCLAIMERS: This is not an accurate portrayal of anyone depicted in the story. I do not know these people. It's strictly a work of fiction.
PAIRING: Michael Jackson x Fem!Reader.
GENRES: Angst (a surprise to no one.)
SUMMARY: For ten years of his life, Michael Jackson has known and loved her. An on / off again relationship which a year ago lead him waiting an the altar to commit his life to another. In what felt like forever in the shaky life he had built for himself, he finally felt stability. It's 1992 and the demand for kids was a huge deal breaker for him. The couple wasted no time in trying, but after a year of failed attempts, they worried something might be wrong. Doctors confirmed his worst fears when they announced his wife to be infertile. Desperate for children of his own, Michael jumped the gun by asking a friend to carry his child only two weeks after the diagnosis. When he brings this conversation up to his wife, emotions run high and he might have just lost the best thing that ever happened to him.
WARNINGS: Angst, infertility, heavy argument, swearing. (I think that's it.)
WORD COUNT: 8.6k (My attempt at short. Sorry.)
Mourning something you'd never had proved itself to be an impossible cruelty. The kind that tormented the soul deep into the night and refused to give back the part of yourself you hadn't realised you'd lost until you suddenly found yourself grieving it so deeply, time slips away.
In some ways, it felt like trying to catch snow in your bare hads only to have it melt the moment the icy substance makes contact with your warm flesh.
Realistically, she knew it was okay to feel the intense loss that she'd encountered fourteen days ago, but there was something in the back of her mind telling her she didn't have the right. It wasn't like something had been taken from her. She never had it to begin with.
But that's the thing about hope, it clings to your body like an uninvited shadow and makes a fool out of optimism.
The hours seemed to drag along. While her days hadn't really changed in the grand scheme of things, it now felt like the lights had been dimmed, as though the sun was taunting her from outside the world she lived. Things she thought she knew suddenly made no sense, plans she had made fell flat and in an instant, the future she'd envisioned for herself no longer existed.
Motherhood wouldn't have been the only factor in life she'd define herself with, but God, had she wanted it. The thought of growing her baby, keeping it safe within herself until it was ready to show the world the beauty it would bring had been her dream for so long, she couldn't have imagined a life where it didn't happen.
Years prior, when she was only a child heself, she was that little girl, the one who would carefully carry a baby doll around in her arms at all times and care for it as though it was real. Older generations would look at her and smile, giving a condescending, "aww, she'll be a great mom when she's old enough."
At the time, it felt harmless. Now when she thought about it, her insides ached with a pain she had never known existed.
She wanted to be a mother so bad, it physically hurt.
When she started dating Michael, back in 1982, she's never imagined life would turn out this way.
For a start, she hadn't known his fame would sky rocket the way it had. She'd known him to be talented and expected great things, but being the most famous person to exist, second to Jesus Christ himself, felt like a huge reach, but it was true.
His name rang across the globe. He didn't just have fans, he had subjects, people who were willing to do anything and everything for him just to spend a moment in his company.
Their realtionship was deep and complex. They understood one another in ways others didn't. She saw beyond the fame and got down to the man behind the curtain. He saw a women who had so much to offer the world and encouraged her to spread her wings. The first few years of knowing each other, things had been turbulent. Their paths intertwined and then veered off path, only to circle back around until they found each other once again.
A delicate balance of on and off until a year an a half ago when Micharl had decided he couldn't do it anymore. So scared of losing her and despising the idea of living a life without her, he had gotten down on one knee in the flower gardens of Neverland and asked her to take his surname and become his wife. No more breaks, no more, "when the time is right."
They'd gotten married shortly after and it had been the best decision she had ever made. Loving Michael came easily. He was everything she every wanted. Kind, driven, loyal, but above all else, he loved children just as much as she did. So when he requested they start trying for a baby on their honeymoon, she'd immediately agreed, eager to begin a family with the man she loved.
Envisioning a child with his eyes and smile, there was nothing she craved more. She hadn't even flinched when he droned on and on about the huge family he wanted. She wanted it too and for a while, it felt as though that dream was in reach.
The then waiting came.
One week. A month. Two. Six. A year.
Something wasn't right. It didn't matter what they did, how many times he had buried himself her, what position they laid in or what old wives tales they tried, every single test came back negative and with each negative result they recieved, a piece of her heart broke along with it.
Unable to live without answers, they'd both taken the medical route, subjecting themselves to rigorous testing for any fertility issues and holding one another at night, whispering soft echoes of reassurances to each others ears to rid themselves of any negative thoughts before the results came through.
Then it dropped.
The bomb that dismantled her from the inside out.
Asked to return back to the medical facility, the couple held hands as they were told the cause of their problems. Michael was perfectly okay. On paper, he could and should be able to do his part in crafting life.
She was the issue.
The words sank in at an alarming rate, so much so that even a fortnight later, she would still recite them in her darkest nightmares.
"Missus Jackson, your infertility issues appear to be linked to several factors." The doctor has spoken in a cool, matter of fact tone. "The scans suggest polycystic ovary syndrome, this is something that can disrupt ovulation, and there is evidence of scarring in one fallopian tube from a past infection. We also found small uterine fibroid that may also be affecting implantation."
The world fell silent in that moment, the air that had once been warm and inviting suddenly fell into a icy chill. If it wasn't for Michael's hand clutching desperately onto her own, she wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't have broken into a thousand tiny shards.
The doctor had continued to talk, but after that diagnosis, nothing else sank in. She caught the back end off the conversation before they left.
Basically, they could keep trying, but with everything stacked against her, it was incredibly unlikely she would ever be able to conceive children of her own.
Returning home that night had been particularly odd.
For a while, neither of them said a word. Then, seemingly out of no where, the silence had been broken by a deverstaing roar of tears.
Michael sat on the sofa, sobbing a deverstatingly painful cry into her lap, clinging onto her like he would lose her if he'd dare to let go. The hope of the future they both thought they'd have was suddenly so different and so she comforted him through the tears, unable to process the news herself as she sat there completely numb.
In bed that night, he held her tight, like he was terrified at any moment someone would rip her from is grasp or as though his love alone could somehow change their fate and they'd wake up the next day to hear from the doctor that they'd mixed up the results and she actually could carry children.
Obviously, that hadn't happen.
When they woke up the next morning, the same outcome greeted them.
Two weeks later and not much had changed.
They hadn't spoken about it. Not really.
Moments of sadness lingered, where they would look at each other on occasion and remember the crux of their problems. Neither knew how to address it, so they simply didn't.
Standing in the full length mirror of her closet, looking back at the reflection that reminded her so much of a women who was once blinded with a sense of hopefullness, now she only saw a void. A faux expression forced upon her face so no one could see the cracks beneath.
She hadn't told anyone. No one other than Michael and he's supported her. So much of their lives had been sensationalised by the greedy media. This couldn't be something they let slip. Not right now.
Closing the clasp on the dainty gold necklace around her throat, she had failed to notice the bedroom door opening. Completely in her own world as she flattened the metallic pendant against her collarbones, she was only alerted to another presence in the room when she heard the familiar dip of the mattress springs.
In the mirror, tired eyes lifted to the sight behind her. Michael, already dressed in some fine collared shirt, the gold and red detailing against the dark obsidian of the base material giving him a regale elegance she would find pretentious in any other man, yet for him fit perfectly.
Their eyes met and he offered her a small, soft smile, the kind that told her everything would be okay and like always, she felt compelled to believe it.
They'd gotten his far, hadn't they?
His knees parted, arms held wide and with a small crook of his fingers, he requested her presence.
"Baby, come here." He spoke, less like a demand and more like a plea. "I want to talk to you about something."
With no reason to object, she gave one last glance at her reflection, sighing at the dull sight that greeted her and then crossed the carpeted floor towards him.
Michael didn't hesitate one bit. The moment she stepped into his orbit, his arms fell around her waist and tugged her closer until her hands fell against his shoulder. They hadn't been intimate since the news, but the affectionate way he looked up towards her as her gaze flickered down hadn't changed.
"Is everything okay?" She asked, not all too worried when he was looking at her that way.
Embarking on his Dangerous world tour in less than a month, her assumptions quickly fell to the technicalities that regarded such planning.
While true he loved his fans, Michael absolutely detested touring and it was no secret to those that surrounded him.
After the Bad tour reached it's conclusion, he'd been insistent that he would never tour again. It wss too much. The travel, the sleepless nights, the energy and perfomances. Not to mention fans fainting every night, the lack of stability and perfectionist in him screaming in his mind when one simple thing didn't go right.
He couldn't subject himself to that again.
Then one day, he decided he absolutely would.
Not for himself, but to raise money for disadvantaged children.
Every cent he earned from the Dangerous world tour would go straight into his Heal The World foundation to help people across the globe.
Naturally, her mind ran to that. With the opening night fast approaching, she assumed his nerves had started to surface and with an gently stroke of her fingers against his broad shoulders, she attempted to sooth his aching muscles.
"You can tell me anything." She assured after a moments silence.
Brown doe eyes fell towards the plush carpet before he dared look back at her and when he did, his hold on her waist tightened a fraction.
"I've been speaking to Debbie Rowe." He began, noting the confusion on her face. "You know, she said she'd be willing to help."
Head tilted downward, she strained to hear his voice. The more he spoke, the less things made sense. Brows pinched together, mouth opened in a subtle act of perplexity.
She knew the name. She'd met the women. But what the hell did she have to do with touring?
"Debbie Rowe..." she spoke, her words lingering in the air around them. "your nurse?"
"Yeah."
"Willing to help with what exactly?"
His gaze softened, his fingers leaving smoothing patterns beneath the knitt, blue sweater she'd stolen from his closet earlier than morning.
"You know... our problem."
His eyes widened a fraction and thought it was a blink and you'll miss it moment, she noticed the way his gaze subtlety dropped to her stomach making this whole conversation much clearer than any words he used.
A wave of nausea washed over her and immediately her own hands fell from his body.
This wasn't a simple conversation. This was torture on a level she had never imagined he would subject her to.
"What do you mean? You've been talking to your nurse about this?" Hardly able to believe the words that left his mouth, she stepped back and as she did, his touch fell from her waist, leaving only coldness where his hands had been.
His face fell, lips curved downwards into a frown the second she rejected his grasp, like he had physically burnt her skin with the palm of his hands.
"I mean, she's a friend too and I was just looking for someone to talk to, you know?"Ā His words fast in pace, in a quick attempt at rationalising what he'd uttered. "Air out my frustrations and-"
"Your frustrations?" She cut him off, scoffing at the lack of empathy in which he chose to show.
"Yeah... you know, about the whole... infertility thing."
A firey ring of anger bubbled in her stomach, rising up as his words settled around her. Suddenly, any fraction of rationality escaped her mind and pure outrage took its place.
It felt like an insult, like he was mad at her for something she had no control over.
"You're frustrated I'm infertile?"
The venomous way she spat the words hit him square in the heart and his eyes widened once again, mouth dropped with words he wanted to say but failed to reach his tongue.
Michael had realised the error in the way he approached the conversation, he never had been good at explaining himself, but it was too late now. They were in too deep and he needed to get this off his chest.
"I didn't mean it like that. I meant it like... I'm sad."
Any other time he used that excruciatingly deverstating tone, she would have bucked and rushed right over to console him. She'd only ever wanted things to work out for them, but now she felt the cracks in the ice they stood on starting to form and it was only time before they were plunged into the frigid depths below.
She laughed, actually laughed out loud, but there was no humour in the sound as it reverberated off the walls of their home.
"You were sad." She repeated, rolling her eyes like she was amused by the situation. "So what? You're trying to find some miracle cure here?"
"No." Running a large hand over his face, Michael tried hard to stay calm. "But Debbie... she'd be willing to have my kids."
"What?" She exploded, eyes narrowed in disbelief, her entire body frozen in shock.
"Not how your thinking! No! Nothing like that. Never!"Ā Michael rushed to his feet, hands falling to her upper arms, seemingly almost repulsed by the insinuation. "You know, through a doctors office. She'd be a surrogate."
She wanted to scream until her voice gave out. She wanted to throw herself on the floor like a stubborn toddler, kicking and screaming until she got her own way.
How could he have done this to her?
Breathing heavy, her vision began to cloud through the sheen of tears she swallowed back.
This couldn't be happening.
He looked at her with so much hope in his eyes, willing her to answer so they could start the process and he could finally have everything he wanted. His body so close to her usually only providing her with comfort, but now his presence repulsed her.
Time was relative, but she thought that even he would realise how much of a sore spot this would be for her.
"It's been only been two weeks..."
Her voice soft quite, she hadn't known if he'd heard. The only sound she could hear was the fast pace thumping of her pluse in her ears. His touch lingered, but she no longer felt any peace with it.
"What?"
"Two weeks ago, I found out I can't have children." She uttered in debelif, shaking her head like she still couldn't believe it and stepping back once again, only to watch as his arms fell to his sides.
"Baby-"
Michael tried to reach for her again, but she recoiled, talking over him and trying hard not to sob over his stupid decisions.
"I haven't even processed it properly yet." Voice weak, as though the conversation was physically draining the energy from her with ever word spoke.
"I know."
"I haven't told my family."
"I know." He repeated.
Each 'I know' doing little to sooth the terrible ache rushing through her body.
"...and you're already planning happy families with another women."
The realisation hit her like a bullet to the back. So cruel and sudden, she practically stumbled on her from the impact.
She didn't care that they wouldn't be intimate in order to conceive. She cared that he hadn't even taken her into consideration before asking another women he was seemingly too close with, to carry the children that up until a fortnight ago, she thought would be hers.
"That's not true!" Michael's voice raised, rushed with an effort to assure her that wasn't even close to what he wanted. He loved her. "We'd still be together."
"Together?" She laughed, running a frustrated hand through her hair and huffing in irritation as strands tangled around the diamond of her engagement ring.
"Yes."
"While another women is pregnant with your child."
"It won't change anything." His answer automatically, like he'd already planned this conversation.
For the first time since he dropped the bomb on her, she forced her eyes to meet his. An almost vulnerable look looming within the darkest depths of his gaze and she didn't know if he was actually dumb enough to believe what he had just said, or was simply hoping she was.
"You're not that naive." Stepping into his personal space, she didn't once break eye contact. Not until he looked down at the floor and forced her hand. "A baby changes everything!"
"Why does that have to be a bad thing?"
He didn't understand and why would he? It wasn't him awake throughout the night, cursing the very body he was born with for failing to give him the one thing he so desperately desired. He wasn't questioning his worth as a human being or as a partner.
A piercing gaze spared her way. Now that he was no longer sitting, he no longer had to look up at her in order to see her face. Part of her wanted to run and hide, but she'd vowed for better or worse and this was easily her at rock bottom.
"I know your family." The murmur of her voice broke through the silence, arms folded over her chest with a hand resting against her jaw. It was all getting a little too much now.
Furrowing his brows, Michael tilted his head and shuffled carefully on his feet. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I know you've separated yourself from the Jehovah's Witness lifestyle, but your folks haven't." She sighed heavily, feeling the searing heat of his gaze. "We both know your parents want you to be married to the women carrying your children."
She'd been there when Michael struggled through the guilt of leaving that faith behind. While his belief in God never swayed, his thoughts on that particular practice did have him questioning life.
Still, she saw how it still plagued him, how he made decisions based off the life he was raised in. It's why he still hadn't celebrated Christmas and why he'd yelled at her when she'd splashed out on a particularly fancy watch for his thirtieth birthday.
It wasn't a lack of effort that kept him going back, it was the guilt that threatened to swallow him whole every time he tried to dip a toe into something he'd been taught to believe to be a sin.
Where his siblings had managed to break free, Michael was still somewhat attached.
"That won't matter..." he tried, voice trailing off. "It's surrogacy."
"You don't believe that and I don't believe that it'll just be surrogacy."
She willed him to see reason, to understand where she was coming from, but Michael shook his head in return. Stubborn in nature and used to getting what he wanted, he couldn't let this fall through.
"That's just your mind playing tricks on you." He insisted, burying his hands into the pockets of his black slacks.
"Okay, so tell me this."Ā She began, gaze unwavering in an attempt to decipher every micro expression sitting so pretty across his face. "When Debbie is carrying your baby and your mother is holding the ultrasound pictures... who do you think she's going to call the mother?"
Katherine Jackson was an absolute saint of a women. If heaven was a real place, she was surely an angel sent down to Earth to protect one of God's greatest creations. She absolutely adored the women and always looked to her for guidance.
All this aside, Katherine was of a certain generation, one set in their ways. She wouldn't mean to cause harm, but the moment she heard someone else would be carrying her grandchildren, things would be different.
"No. She wouldn't. I'll tell her-"
With a wave of her hand, she didn't allow Michael to finish. "And once she's pregnant, you'll have Debbie move in..."
"Well, of course." He nodded like it was obvious, like she was foolish for even needing clarification. "I'll have to keep a close eye on her."
She didn't know what he meant by that and she didn't want to find out.
Sharing her space with the women who could do the one thing for her husband she couldn't, all the while knowing it's the only he thing he really wanted would deversate her.
"And that changes things!" She yelled.
"Girl, you're talking crazy."
She's never been a violent woman, but in that moment, she seriously considered lunging forward and strangling him right then and there.
Pacing the floor back and fourth, wearing the carpet thin and bitting down so hard on her lower lip, the blood rushed forward. Every thought in her mind begged for this to be a mistake.
Maybe she was still dreaming or perhaps she had misheard.
Stepping forward, Michael pressed a large grounding hand to her shoulder to stop her steps. Slowly she turned to face him and only then did she see a wash of disappointment paint the sharp contours of his face.
"I need to be a dad!" He admitted, leaving no room for argument.
"I know." She had never wanted to deny him of that.
"No, I don't think you do."Ā It was his turn to get angry. Michael scoffed, stepping away and turning his back to her only to face her again, this time his cheeks red with irritation. "That's all I've ever wanted. For as long as I can remember, that's been the only thing that kept me going. I'm going through with this! There is no other reality for me!"
He didn't shout. He didn't have to. Michael had the ability to speak perfectly calm with authority and when he did, he became the most terrifying person in the room. He wasn't aggressive nor violent, but he knew how to scare people.
The heavy weight of his words lingered in the air and she was forced to confront them, because right now, he wasn't giving her an option. He was demanding something she no longer felt like she was a part of.
"So then, what am I?" Boardering on a whisper, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Huh?" His face screwed up in confusion, not understanding the gravity of the question she's thrown his way. "What?"
"What am I if I can't give you that."
The clarity hit harder than he imagined and with a distinct huff, his hands fell against his narrow hips. "You're my wife."
"Am I?"Ā Voice high pitched, eyes wide in debelif. "It sure as hell doesn't feel that way. You're planning on moving another women in without so much as consulting me."
"Stop putting words in my mouth. You know I love you."
"No, actually, I don't."Ā She saw the way his face dropped at the admission, but couldn't allow herself the luxery of stopping long enough to care. "You couldn't even give me a month to wrap my head around this. You instantly found someone else to replace me with and what, I'm supposed to be fine with it."
"You're acting like I'm betraying you."
"You are." She spat, not once feeling sorry for it.
If he'd been wise enough to leave his dark curls down, she knew he would have been hiding his face behind the curtain of black. Unfortunately for Michael, he'd used one of her hair ties this morning and created a low hanging ponytail of sorts. Soft tendrils had fallen loose, but certainly not enough to disguise his expressions.
"No, I'm not." He fought back, hating the accusations thrown at him. Hands moving between them in a frustrated motion. "I'm finally doing something I want."
"Why her?" Unable to hold the question on any longer, it had been plaguing her the moment he uttered those words.
Because that was the thing, Debbie wasn't just another women. She was someone he'd let in. Someone he's gotten close to and trusted.
There weren't many people Michael had in life that he could consider a real companion, someone to guard his secrets and share part of his soul with. Maybe she'd been naive not to question her place in his life. Had she known Debbie had shifted from a nurse into something much more threatening to their marriage, she would have acted sooner.
"What?" Michael almost laughed.
"Why Debbie?" She snapped, no longer dancing around the situation.
Throwing his hands up, it was his turn to start pacing now. "Why does that matter?"
"Because out of every women in the world, you picked her."
"I didn't pick her." He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between elegant fingers.
"Yes, you did." She spat through gritted teeth. "Plenty of women would offer to have your babies. You're Michael Jackson for crying out loud."
She wasn't saying it was a good idea, God no. If surrogacy was a route they would ever go down, there would be a lot more planning than picking a random fan off the street, but this wasn't a rational conversation and she had a point to prove.
"I know."
"You went to her. You cried to her, told her things you should've been telling me."Ā Heart heavy with the reality crushing their realtionship, holding back tears had never felt so hard. "You've been talking to her about our marriage."
"I wasn't talking about our marriage."
"You were talking about me! My diagnosis!"
And somehow, that was worse because it wasn't about confiding a secret to a friend. It was complaining about a medical mishap, something she couldn't control that had changed their lives forever without her permission.
Not just that, but the women he'd so carelessly trusted with her secret was a women she didn't know and the realisation that he had gone to someone else rather than approach his own wife wouldn't be something she could easily forget.
"That's different." But even he knew that was a weak excuse.
"No." She sniffed. "It really isn't."
"She's my friend." He muttered through a shaky breath. "I need someone to talk to."
And that was it, wasn't it? In his time of need, he hadn't seeked her out, but rather looked for the comfort of another women. It didn't matter if they were intimate or not, because all it proved was that he no longer trusted her to be cautious with his emotions.
She couldn't shake the idea off. The series of events that lead him into the arms of someone that wasn't her. The thought of him crying against someone else's shoulder, clinging to them with flushed cheeks and tear filled eyes as this other women rubbed his back and soothed him until he calmed down. The image made her sick.
"You had a wife! I'm right here." She whispered, her voice barley there.
"You haven't exactly been easy to communicate with."
Time stilled.
Physically, the world continued to spin, but here in the shared space of their home, in the bedroom they had spent so much time loving one another, everything froze.
Her lungs no longer held any purpose, breathless from the cynical spite he'd thrown her way and the worst part is, part of her believed it.
"Wow." She muttered, no longer able to fight back the single tear that left a damp trail along the curve of her cheek.
"I didn't mean-"
"No." For what felt like the tenth time that night, she cut him off. Eyes sharp as a knife and focused in his direction. "Please, don't take it back now. Let me hear it."
"Baby-"
"Tell me, Michael!" She insisted through the heartbreak, slamming her foot down in a demand for answers.
Seeing the torment on her face and her need to actually hear his side of things, he couldn't deny it, no matter how bad he had felt saying it out loud.
"You shut down." He sighed, head in hand. "I tried... you wouldn't talk about it."
Conveniently, it seemed as though he'd forgotten about the night they recieved the news, how she latched onto him and allowed him to cry desperately in her arms for hours while still trying to process the reality of their situation herself.
She knew she wasn't perfect. Maybe he really had tried to speak to her about these things and she had dismissed him. A vague image flickered in her mind two days after the results. He'd cornered her in the kitchen, his arms wrapping around her waist as he mentioned something about starting a family anyway. She'd tuned out. It felt too sudden.
Though she understood Michael was sensitive. At the time, she hadn't thought much of it. Now she realised he probably saw it as a rejection she hadn't intended on giving.
Anger returned.
"I got told I could never carry a child!" She reminded her husband, gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. "Forgive me for needing a while to come to terms with that."
"Yeah, well I was told I'd never be a father."
That wasn't the case at all and he knew it, but Michael wasn't beyond manipulation in order to get what he wanted and what he wanted was to start a family, by any means necessary.
Throwing her hands up in the air, she scoffed in defeat, eyes trained to the ceiling, like she was praying for answers she would never get. "I can't believe this."
"What now?" Michael sighed, kicking the carpet beneath his sock covered feet.
"You think this happened to you." She accused with a subtle understanding laced within each syllable.
"It did happen to me!" He snapped.
"No! It happened to us!" She practically screamed, needing him to see that he wasn't the only one feeling lost. "We could have dealt with it together, given us space and time to come to terms with it and then, maybe we could've looked into adoption or surrogacy... we could've done it together." Without permission, a sob broke through her lips. "But somehow, you've made yourself the victim here."
"I lost something too, you know!" The vulnerability in his words had him shudder.
"What did you lose?" She asked, at a loss with this conversation.
"My children."
"You don't have children." She huffed, rolling her eyes at the poor excuse he conjured up.
"You know what I mean."
It felt as though they were going around in circles, neither person understanding the others point of view and her heart cracked at his ability to be so unknowingly cruel.
"No, actually, I don't think I do." She breathed out a silent cry, wrapping her arms around her stomach like she could physically hold herself from falling apart in front of him. Her pride would never recover. "Because from where I'm standing, the only thing you've actually lost is your faith in me."
"What's that supposed to mean?" He enquired, eyes softening with how utterly defenceless she appeared.
"It means, two weeks ago, I recieved a news from a doctors office that broke my heart. " She laughs though the conversation was void of any humour. "Five minutes ago, my husband did the exact same thing before he let me recover from the first injury."
"Stop making me the bad guy." Michael pleaded, wanting to reach out and hold her, but knowing better.
"Then stop acting like one."
"I'm trying to fix this!' He insisted, eyes widening a fraction.
"Fix this?" She questioned, eyebrows arched and mouth settled into a solid line.
"Yes."
"I'm not fucking broken, Michael!" She yelled, holding herself tigher as the pieces threatened to fall. "I'm a person with thoughts and feelings and you're so quick to replace m-"
"I'm not replacing you." He insisted through a heavy breath, tangling his fingers in his tied up hair.
"The second you found out I was infertile, you started imagining another women pregnant with your baby."
"That's not what happened." He shook his head.
"Then tell me how it started."
He said nothing. Not a single word and somehow, that was worse. A look of guilt etched against the soft features his face, something he could probably mask from anyone else, but she had spent ten years loving him. She knew every face and up until now, this one had never really been directed towards her.
Like a stone sinking in her gut, dread filled her from the inside out. He didn't have to say a word. She knew.
"Oh my God." She gasped, hand falling to her mouth. "I'm an idiot."
"What? Don't say that." His voice dropping in tone, quiet and sympathic in a way it hadn't been the entire conversation. "You're not."
The room fell silent for a moment, until she found the courage to speak up.
"You were talking to her before the diagnosis, weren't you?"
The heavy weight of her words only paralleled by the heavy ache in her heart. Her lips quivered and all the while, she watched as he refused eye contact, looking anywhere but at her.
"W-what?" He stuttered. "Of course not."
"Don't stand there and lie to me!"
"I just..." The words trailed off, he couldn't finish the sentence.
"You just what, Michael?" She snapped, tears falling freely now and she had no intentions of wiping them away. He could see exactly what he'd done to her. "Finish the sentence."
Here, he looked less like the legendary pop star the world had come to know and more like a scared little boy, hiding from the bad things that go bump in the night.
Only, he wasn't a child anymore. He was her husband and she could hardly look at him without seeing an act of betrayal as it played out so plainly in front of her.
With a heavy sigh of defeat, he gave in. Tired eyes lifted and the look of anguish on her face was enough to steal the breath from his lungs.
He stepped forward, knowing that if she just let him hold her, he could fix this, but with every step he took upwards her, she took one back. No longer wanting to feel like a predator hunting its prey, he stood still and answered with a guilty nod.
"I was worried, okay?" And he had been, it was just never meant to go this far. "We'd been trying for over a year and the tests... they all came back negative."
A year of failed attempts was enough to exhaust anyone, that she understood. What she would never understand was rushing off to a friend the moment things get bad and planning a whole other life so carelessly.
Her heart cracked inside her chest, breathing became a difficult task. She'd never imagined the person she loved the most would be the one the ruin her so deeply.
"So you already had a backup plan?" She spat.
"No!" Michael combed his fingers through his hair, groaning in frustration.
"You already had her!" She yelled and with a look of shame, neither of them could deny it anymore. The color drained from her face and with the last of her energy, she managed to whisper. "You did."
He knew what he'd done was wrong, but some part of him refused to acknowledge it. Michael wasn't dumb, there was a reason why up until now he'd kept this whole thing under wraps, but it wasn't how she was thinking.
"It wasn't like that." He spoke, eyes locking into hers, just willing her to take a leap of faith and believe in him. "I just needed to know this could happen for me... that I could have children."
"Yeah..." She whispered into the void, wishing for nothing more than to wake up from this nightmare. "you had her waiting in the wings, preparing for the perfect moment to spring this on me."
"Stop."
His usually soft eyed look had hardened. He couldn't take this anymore. The constant back and fourth was enough to drive anyone to the brink of insanity. Every second that moved between them, he could feel the agonising weight of their love story resting on his shoulder. Shallow breathing falling from his rounded lips just to keep him from toppling over and falling to the ground.
"While I was praying." She started, her voice cracking with sadness bleeding into her words.
"Stop!" He repeated, only this was a painfully curated plea more than a soft request.
"Hoping... sitting in waiting rooms."Ā She continued, only torturing herself more as the conversation lingered like dead weight in the air.
"Please, baby..."
"And it only took you two fucking weeks to picture a different women carrying your child." If something heavy had been sitting near by, she would have thrown it across the room just to rid herself of the anger she felt bubbling to the surface. "You couldn't even give me a month."
Scratching the back of his neck, Michael felt the moment his cheeks flushed as embarrassment began to rise to the surface. "That's not fair."
"A fucking month!" She continued, in that same aggressive tone. Frustration lingering like an unwanted compainion, threatening to break free and destroy all that they had built between them.
"Baby-" His fingers flexed on instinct, reaching for her hand and then deciding against it.
Staring at nothing in particular, feet planted to the floor. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, chewing on the delicate flesh, unable to process the absolute mess that had become of them.
Worry flooded Michael. Seeing her angry, that was something he could work with. At least then, he knew what she was thinking, how she was feeling and could give her space until she calmed down enough to talk rationality about whatever issues were clouding her judgement.
"Ten years." The words left her mouth, but she barley registered it. All the fight leaving her body now she'd been presented with all the facts.
"What?" Genuinely perplexed, brows furrowed and mouth downturned into a deep frown.
"I've loved you for ten years."Ā She clarified, chest heaving and voice wrecked from the earlier shouting. Utterly defeated as she thought back to a simpler time in life when she truly believed they could get through anything so long as they stayed united. "Yeah, it took us some time to get here, but I thought once we got married, that would be it. We were bound together. Ten years in the making..."Ā crying felt redundant, but she had nothing more to give. "and it took you fourteen days to imagine a future without me in it."
Panic began to set in as he watched the women he'd vowed to protect crumble before him. Her nose pink, eyes unfocused, like if she chanced a glance in his direction, she'd fail to exist within the scrutiny of his gaze.
"I never imagined a future without you." His voice barley that of a whisper, but his eyes urged her to look back and show some sign that she understood his point of view.
"No?"Ā She let out a small laugh, fingers wrapped around the golden pendant sat between collarbones. "Just one where another women plays the part I can't."
Michael physcially recoiled like she's burnt him. He hadn't meant to make her feel like she was easy to replace, but it was obvious he had. Intentions didn't matter when the person you cared for the most suddenly began to look at you like you were a stranger.
"I still want you." He confessed, struggling to understand why she wouldn't see reason.
"No!" She shook her head in protest. "You'll tolerate me. You want the kids more."
"That's not true." But even as he said it, he knew it to be a lie.
"And if Debbie disappeared tomorrow... or I didn't want to go through with surrogacy or adoption. If children were completely off the table forever..." stepping forward, she could finally feel the heat of his body. So close, she could touch him, but couldn't convince herself she should. "would you still choose me?"
The question hung between them and suddenly the air started to feel stale. Her eyes finally found his, his lack of communication prolonging a hefty silence between them.
She didn't need him to say anything. Funnily enough, the words he didn't say communicated more than he ever could.
"Oh." The word fell from her lips without permission and she recoiled, creating more distance between them as she stepped back because finally, she understood.
This wasn't going to work.
As he stood, partially paralysed, watching the life leave her eyes. He knew she was only seconds away from allowing his dumb need to always control the world around ruin everything they'd built in the past decade of life.
"Baby, don't-"
"You're acting liie this is something I want." She scoffed, arms winding around her waist, eyes cast down to the floor.
"I did this for us!" Michael snapped, though his anger was completely misplaced. His desperation to keep her near provoking a side of himself he never wanted to show.
"No."Ā She didn't yell. Her voice perfectly still. "You did this for you."
"Why does it matter? You want kids to. You've always said you couldn't wait to be a mom."Ā Each word spoke with perfect diction, clear and precise. Hands held outwardly to get his point across further and desperation clinging to him like a second skin. "Why are you making this an issue now?"
"Because I needed time to heal... to understand what's going on with me and how to move forward." She wasn't even angry more, crying for the life thought she'd be living instead of the hell she was faced with. "I wanted some input into these huge, life altering decision. I get to decide what's right for me, for our marriage and you just... fuck."Ā A sob broke free and cracked her open. "You took that away from me and maybe it wouldn't hurt as much if you'd been thinking about surrogacy with a stranger, but Debbie?"
"Come on." Michael sighed, tired of repeating himself. "It's not like that."
She said nothing, she barley flinched at the harsh tone of his voice. The world moved around her, but she didn't notice. Feeling like a ghost in her own home, she could no longer deny the distance between them.
Two weeks might has well have been two decades. He didn't see her the way he used to. She wasn't some new, shiny thing he saw for himself in the future. She was something worn down and broken that he was willing to drag along.
For a second, she remained perfectly still, hand held out in front of her and eyes fixed on the beautiful rings decorating her finger. Two bands that had once made her feel so warm and cared for now felt foreign on her skin, a reminder of all the things she could no longer have and the lengths her husband would go to in order to continue living the live he envisioned for himself.
They weren't a unit anymore. They hadn't been the moment he stepped back and discussed plans of impregnating another women behind her back, long before either of them had been tested for any infertility issues.
Having been with him through the good and the bad, she'd seen him at his lowest, sobbing over the vindictive rumours tabloids so carelessly threw his way. She'd seen him overjoyed, his beaming grin so bright it rivaled the light of the sun. She'd held him when he was lonely and cried with him when he was sad. His victories had become her own and his losses hurt her soul so deeply, you'd have thought they were one.
Now standing in front of him, listening to his act of betrayal, she no longer felt like they were bound as man and wife. Physcially, he was in reach. If was wanted to, she could push forward and hold his hand. Emotionally, he'd never felt so distant.
A heavy sigh of defeat past her lips and with a decision made, she watched herself slide the gold engagement and wedding band off her finger.
"No." Michael gasped in a panic, eyes wide and heart thumping frantically in his chest. "No! Don't do that."
"I can't do this." She whispered, placing the rings in his plam, flinching subtly as their fingers made contact and pulling away fast like his touch had scolded her flesh.
"Put them back on." He urged, trying to hand them back, but she moved away, backing herself into a corner just to prevent any further touch. His face fell, crippled with an emotion he couldn't name.
"I can't stay married to a man who makes decisions like this without me." She insisted, her voice so matter of fact, it scared him.
Michael's eyebrows raised high, teeth worrying his lower lip. "I wasn't making a decision. I was enquiring with a friend."
"You found a surrogate... you're planning on having a baby with a women who knows you intimately." She scoffed, eyes wet and unfocused.
"You're making it sound dirty. I'm not trying to hurt you." And he sounded so sincere, but she couldn't bring herself to believe it anymore.
Crossing the line into her personal space, Michael no longer cared about valuing her comfort as he desperately pulled her arm up and placed the wedding band back into her hand.
"Don't do this. Put it on." He persisted, eyes wild and voice raw. "Don't leave."
"Take it back." She uttered.
"No. I don't want it." Michael argued, holding her fingers over the ring in a desperate act to make her reconsider. "I brought this for you. To show you what you mean to me, to show the world you're mine... in every way that matters."
"That's doesn't mean anything right now."
Michael felt the wetness on his cheek before he realised what it was. Crying at the thought of losing her and aching because he knew on some level, he already had.
"It should." His voice cracked, doe eyes wide with terror. "You're my wife."
"I was your wife." She corrected, pulling her wrist from his grasp, the weight of the rings feeling heavier than ever.
Michael's eyes pooled with tears, mouth opened in horror at the subtle correction. He could feel his heart giving out, the loss of physical contact no longer the only barrier between them.
"No." He shook his head, breathing heavy and crying right alongside her. "Please. No. Don't- don't do this to me."
Ignoring his request, she continued to talk as though those particular words hadn't left his lips at all.
"You know what hurts the most?" She asked, but didn't want for answers. "Not that you talked to Debbie, or that you even found a surrogate. It's the fact that it never, not once, occurred to you to ask me. You didn't come up to me and ask 'what should we do now.' You just decided what you wanted and thought I'd go along with it."
"I thought I knew best." He whispered, staring at her face under the florescent bedroom lighting.
"That's your problem... you always think you know what's right, but you never stop before you jump ahead."
"We can still start a family." Michael desperately clinging to the dream had to try just once more.
She laughed bitterly, wiping under her eyes with the back of her plam. "Listen to yourself." She mocked. "This isn't working."
"I love you." He uttered in blind hope that it might make her stay.
"Stop saying that like it's going to fix anything." She spoke, eyes rimmed red and irritated from the steady flow of tears.
"I made a mistake." He finally admitted with a firm nod. "I understand that."
"A mistake is forgetting our anniversary, or forgetting to call while you're on the road." She clarified, refusing to be moved by those big Bambi eyes looking at her in fear. "You made an active choice here and it's not something easy to forgive."
"I can fix it." He promised, taking her hand and watching as it fell limp in his desperate hold. "I'll tell Debbie we're not doing it. I'll stop talking to her all together if that's what you want... just tell me what to do."
His pleas were earth shattering and part of her wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him everything would be okay, they could figure this out together. They'd been through a lot in their realtionship and this was just another obstacle life had thrown there way.
But it wasn't that easy. It wasn't a vase he'd broke, but her trust and that was an entirely different conversation he wasn't ready to have.
"You can't undo this." She ignored the soft whisper of her name as it fell from his lips, looking over at where his hand clutched her own in a move of solid desperation, her skin sunken in from his harsh grasp.
"After my diagnosis..." she began, looking him straight in the eye even if it hurt to do so. "I looked over at you in the doctors office. It killed me, but I thought to myself, 'at least I have Michael.' Turns out, you weren't thinking that way about me, because if you were, you would've held my hand and let me grieve, you would've asked me what I wanted."
"I know." His shoulders slumped and he wiped his face as a result of the onslaught of tears. "I was wrong, but please don't go."
"I have to." She told him straight, not wanting to prolong this painful heartbreak further.
"We can get through this." Michael promised, squeezing her hand with his own.
"Maybe." She watched as hope flashed across his face, but she couldn't focus on that while pulling her hand out of his tight hold. "But not today."
His face crumpled, awful and pale like he was about to throw up if she took another step from him. For her own sanity, she had to.
Stepping away, she ignored his cries as she crossed the room, placing the rings he'd tried to give her back on the nightstand beside the lamp he used for some late night reading.
She didn't look back, she couldn't. She considered herself to be a strong women, but for Michael, she was weak as a kitten. If she chanced a glance over her shoulder, she ran the risk of turning back and allowing him the victory of winning her back.
Wasting no time, she left the room with the door closing tight behind her.
Michael stood, head in his hand, sobbing over his own mistakes and wondering if he would ever be able to make this up to her or if he really had just lost the only women he'd ever truly loved.
ļøDISCLAIMER: This fanfiction is about a real person in a fictional scenario. This is a purely creative work and is not meant to offend, or make anyone uncomfortable.
TW: FLUFF
A/N: I'm sorry if I didn't fill your request right and I feel like I spaced it weirdly š
Michael thought he would only see you once or twice knowing his brother's reputation. He never thought he'll see you at the family cookout or pool party helping in the kitchen. Stopping kids from running in and out with water dripping off them.
Michael never thought you were to be the first to hand him a plate packed with the food you and Jackie helped make possible. "Here ya go Mikey eat up." you spoke continuously with a patient and light tone that he first thought was for show.
Michael never thought you would be the one to yell at his brother's when they joked about his appearance. "Now you guys quit! You got no right to talk about his acne when you got stuff bigger then bubbles on ya back! Yeah, I saw 'em"
"C'mon girl you didn't have to tell the whole world!" Jermaine stormed off to his room.
"You okay Mikey?"
"Yea, thanks..."
Michael never thought you'll be the first to jump up from your spot on Jackie's chest when he asked to play a game. Or you'll chase him around the house during tag and tickle him with giggles in unison.
"You got me! You got me!"
"Gotta say uncle Mikey c'mon you can say it!"
"Uncāaight uncle!"
Michael never thought during a terrible thunderstorm that his feet would patter their way into the room that occupied Jackie and you. Or that he would tug on the sweatshirt you 'borrowed' from his brother, waking you up with a harsh tug from another violent thunder clap.
Spending the rest of night downstairs in the kitchen fixing up sundaes and falling asleep on the couch. No, he never thought of such things!
Michael never thought he'll see you in front of the pens that hold his animals in the middle of the night, pale bucket to Louie's mouth.
"What're you doing?!" He rushed over grabbing your wrist in panic as the bucket spilt over. Animal feed spilling at your feet. "Mikey! I'm sorry... I just thought since you've been busy with rehearsal and whatnot I could feed 'em..." you look guilty, like you crossed a unspoken line with him.
"I should be sorry. Grabbing you like that..."
"Its just nobody else tries to feed my animals"
"If your worried about me doing anything I wouldn't dare!"
"I know. Here's a new bucket... for spilling yours."
Michael never thought you'll take every chance to stand on the left wing of stage during his performances. Cheesing, cheering and clapping along to his voice that made him push himselfāimpossiblyāmore to hear your voice.
Stepping backstage where they were congratulating, Michael ignored it all. Watching you spread your arms wide heāstill filled with adrenalineārammed his body into yours "Mama did you hear me! That wasā"
"Can't blame him, she practically babied him to adulthood!" His brother's teased, poking at him as he hid his face in his hands. Face turning ablaze, "oh jeez..." he muttered with a shake in his voice from hitting notes
"Stop teasing! I'm fine by it Michael."
"Mikey..."
"Pardon?"
If I call you Mama... you gotta call me Mikey from now on."
"Awe here 'dey go again being all family!"
Taglist for this fic: @a-motherfcking-fish @agustdpeach @dhctonight
Summary: the time Y/N was a Disney princess and Michael was a little more than obsessedā¦
Authors note: yāall voted and I needed some fluff ā¦ especially after that last emotional damaging fic. Please enjoyā¦ Ariel is my fave and the timing just makes sense!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Santa Barbara, 1988.
The first time Y/N told him, The Little Mermaid storyboards were spread across their living room floor.
Michael was curled sideways on the couch at Neverland in gray sweatpants and thick white socks, humming absently while flipping through a notebook full of song ideas. Y/N had been acting strange all evening smiling to herself, biting her lip, hovering like she was trying not to burst.
Finally she dropped onto the carpet beside him with a folder clutched dramatically to her chest.
āI got offered something, appleheadā she said.
Michael glanced up immediately. āSomething good?ā
Her grin widened.
āThey want me to voice Ariel.ā
Silence.
Then his eyes went comically wide.
āA Disney princess?ā
She laughed. āWellā¦ technically sheās a mermaid.ā
āA mermaid princessā he corrected instantly, sitting up so fast his notebook slid onto the floor. āBaby, thatāsā¦ā He pressed both hands to his chest. āThatās amazing.ā
She was laughing harder now at his expression. āYouāre acting like I just got knighted.ā
āYou did get knighted.ā He pointed at her accusingly. āBy Disney.ā
And that was it.
From then on, Michael acted like Y/N had personally become animated royalty.
He told everyone.
Everyone.
Quincy heard about it three times in one week. Janet got an excited phone call at midnight. Katherine Jackson received an entire explanation over breakfast while Michael practically bounced in his seat.
āSheās gonna be a Disney princess, Mother.ā
Katherine smiled patiently into her tea. āThatās lovely, Michael.ā
āNo, but you donāt understand,ā he insisted. āLike forever. Children are gonna watch her forever.ā
And that was the part that truly got him.
Michael already adored Y/N with the kind of overwhelming, breathless devotion that made everyone around them slightly sick of how in love they were. But this? This made him emotional in a completely different way.
Because to him, Disney was magic. Childhood. Wonder. Innocence.
And now Y/Nās voice was going to live inside that magic forever.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The house slowly filled with Ariel, sheet music covered the piano and cassette tapes piled up beside the stereo. Y/N walked around humming scales while making coffee, practicing lines while brushing her hair, absentmindedly singing fragments of songs while curled against Michael in bed.
And Michael loved every second of it.
Especially āPart of Your World.ā
The first time he heard her properly rehearse it at home, he genuinely stopped breathing for a second.
She stood barefoot beside the piano in one of his oversized shirts, lyric sheets in her hand while the demo track played softly.
Michael had been writing nearby, half paying attention.
Then she started singing.
āLook at this stuffā¦ isnāt it neat?ā
His pencil froze.
Her voice floated through the room, soft and yearning and achingly beautiful. There was something vulnerable about it, something wistful that made the song feel real instead of animated.
Michael slowly leaned back in his chair just to watch her.
The little expressions she made while singing.āØThe way her fingers moved unconsciously with the melody.āØThe emotion in her eyes when she reached the bigger notes.
By the time she got to;
āI wanna be where the people areā¦ā
Michael was staring at her like sheād hung the moon.
She finished the verse and glanced over self consciously.
āWhat?ā
He blinked like heād forgotten where he was.
āBabyā¦ā He shook his head slowly, smiling in complete disbelief. āYou sound like magic.ā
She laughed softly. āYouāre biased.ā
āNo, Iām not.ā He stood and crossed the room immediately. āIām serious.ā
He took the lyric sheets from her hands and set them aside before wrapping his arms around her waist.
āYou know what this feels like?ā he murmured.
āWhat?ā
āLike one of those old fairy tales.ā His eyes moved over her face tenderly. āLike people are gonna hear your voice and fall in love with you without even seeing you.ā
She melted instantly, smiling against his chest.
Michael rested his forehead against hers.
āMy very own Disney princessā he whispered proudly.
āMermaidā she corrected.
He gasped dramatically. āYouāre right.ā Then he grinned. āEven better.ā As he kissed her soundly.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Recording days became Michaelās favorite secret activity.
Whenever schedules allowed, heād quietly sneak into the studio wearing disguises that fooled absolutely no one.
Mostly because Michael Jackson trying to covertly visit his girlfriend at an animated mermaid recording session was both surreal and adorable.
Sometimes he sat silently in the back booth beside the producers, utterly captivated while Y/N performed.
Voice acting fascinated him.
Watching her transform with only her voice mesmerized him completely.
One moment she was laughing normally with the crew, then the red recording light would flick on and suddenly she became Ariel; curious, emotional, spirited and hopeful.
Michael would just sit there with his chin in his hand smiling helplessly.
Like he physically could not stop.
Occasionally Y/N would glance through the studio glass and catch him staring.
Every single time heād immediately beam and mouth āYouāre amazing, so beautiful.ā
One afternoon she recorded an emotional scene and came out exhausted, rubbing her throat. Michael was waiting outside the booth with water already in his hands.
āYou okay?ā he asked softly.
āMhm.ā She smiled tiredly. āJust a lot of singing today.ā
He pushed hair back from her face with heartbreaking tenderness.
āYou know what I saw in there?ā
āWhat?ā
āA little girl version of you.ā
She frowned slightly. āWhat do you mean?ā
āThat hopeful part.ā He smiled gently. āThe dreaming part. Ariel wants this whole other world so badly andā¦ā He shrugged softly. āIt sounds like you.ā
She looked at him for a long moment after that. Because nobody understood emotion in performance the way Michael did.
Nobody saw her like he did.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Then came the Oscars.
62nd Academy Awards
Disney transformed the stage into an underwater dream; blue lighting shimmered across the theater ceiling like waves. Crystal-like props reflected soft turquoise light everywhere.
Backstage, Y/N was trying not to panic.
āThis is worse than touringā she muttered while fixing an earring.
Michael stood behind her in an immaculate black military jacket, hands resting on her bare shoulders.
āNo it isnāt.ā
āYes it is.ā
āNope.ā
She turned to glare at him through the mirror. āMichael.ā
But he was smiling too much to take seriously.
God, he looked proud.
Not just supportive.
Proud.
Like her success somehow belonged to him too because he loved her that deeply.
āYouāre gonna make history tonightā he said quietly.
She exhaled shakily. āDonāt say things like that right before I go on stage.ā
āItās true.ā His eyes softened. āBabyā¦ you already are.ā
An assistant called places.
The nerves visibly hit her.
Michael immediately took her hands.
āHey.ā
She looked up.
And suddenly his entire expression changed soft, grounding, intimate.
Just for her.
āYou know what happens when you sing?ā he asked quietly.
āWhat?ā
āThe whole room feels it.ā
Her throat tightened.
āAnd tonightā he whispered, brushing his thumb over her knuckles, ātheyāre gonna fall in love with you the same way I did.ā
She nearly cried right there.
Instead she leaned forward quickly and kissed him once.
Hard.
Then the stage manager called her cue.
Michael squeezed her hand one last time before letting go reluctantly.
āGo show them magic.ā
~~~~~~~~~
The moment the orchestra began āPart of Your World,ā Michael stopped breathing.
He watched from the wings at first.
Completely transfixed.
Y/N stood beneath soft blue lights in a glittering purple gown that made her look ethereal against the underwater set. The audience disappeared around her the second she started singing.
Everything disappeared.
Michael had seen her perform hundreds of times.
Stadiums.āØAward shows.āØPrivate rehearsals at 2 a.m.āØTiny moments at home in pajamas.
But this felt different.
Maybe because she looked so vulnerable standing there alone. Maybe because the song itself was so full of longing and wonder.āØMaybe because he loved her so much it physically overwhelmed him sometimes.
But as she sang, Michael felt his chest ache.
āSheād give up the sea to be with people she lovesā¦ā
One of the producers nearby glanced over in surprise.
Michaelās eyes were glassy.
Not crying exactly.
Just completely overwhelmed.
By the final chorus, he was smiling so helplessly it almost looked painful.
That was his girl.
His Y/N.
And she was enchanting an entire room.
When she reached the final note, the audience erupted instantly into applause.
Michael clapped before anyone else.
Hard.
Proud.
Absolutely glowing.
The second she came offstage, he was already there.
She barely had time to breathe before he wrapped both arms around her and lifted her clean off the ground.
āYou did it!ā he laughed breathlessly.
She laughed too, dizzy with adrenaline. āMichaelāā
āYou were unbelievable.ā
He set her down only to hold her face immediately, staring at her with so much love it almost hurt to look at.
āI mean itā he said softly. āIāve never seen anything more beautiful, I canāt wait for you to sing that to our children one day.ā
She flushed under the intensity of it.
But Michael just shook his head in disbelief again, smiling to himself like he still couldnāt comprehend how lucky he was.
āMy Disney princessā he whispered lovingly before kissing her forehead.
And for the rest of the night, he looked at her like she belonged in a fairy tale.
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I am craving for some angst and I was wondering if you could write a fanfic where Michael and the reader are married. The reader dies in 1996, and her death is what sends Michael into a spiral of insomnia.
Thank youš¤
Trust, let me lock in for you.
š¾ššš ššš
Michael Jackson x Wife!Reader
Synopsis: You were Michaels entire world, his whole life wrapped up in one person. He never thought he would have to live in a world without you, the thought was unbearable. And then that thought became his reality.
Content/Warnings: Angst, death, insomnia, depression, anxiety, swearing. This is another really sensitive topic, so please please please take care of yourselves if you choose to read.
W.C. 1.5k
Masterlist
Michael was waiting anxiously by the phone all night. He had called you at least 50 times to no avail. You never didn't pick up his calls, especially while he was away. It had been like a ritual of yours, if he was in another state for a speech, conference, or show, he would always call you at exactly 10 PM your time. It didn't matter if that was 3 in the morning for him, he always called and you always answered.
He hadn't even wanted to go on this stupid trip, he didn't want to be on the other side of the country from you. Especially not with you being due to give birth any waking moment. His mind was racing, what if you were at the hospital giving birth and had no way to contact him? What if you had gotten hurt again? All these terrible ideas running through his head were killing him. It was late, too late. He should've been asleep, but he was so worried about you.
Eventually he couldn't take it anymore and threw on a robe and crossed the hall of the hotel to Bill's room. He knocked on the door fiercely, practically banging on it. He could feel his head pounding. Bill opened the door with a sorry look.
"Bill, we need to go home, I think there's something wrong with Y/n. How fast can we get on a plane? I need to go home now." He gripped Bill's shoulders tightly.
Bill frowned and led him back to his own room, "Mike, you need to sleep. You've been awake almost 48 hours." He helped Michael out of his robe.
Michael looked at him like he was crazy, "I can't sleep, my wife and child are in trouble! Listen to me, we need to go home!" Bill grabbed Michael's shaking figure.
"Mike, they're gone." Bill said it steadily, just like the doctors instructed him.
"What?" Michael paused, reality settling back into his bones.
"You're having another episode, buddy. You got to go to sleep so this doesn't keep happening. Remember, the doctor told you those meds were going to help you sleep better."
Michael slumped onto the bed, eyes distant as he remembered the truth.
You were gone, you had been for almost 6 months now.
ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹
The accident had happened while Michael was in New York for some award show. You had been driving home from your parents house, the weather was nasty.
Your parents had told you to stay the night, to wait until the storm cleared up, but you had refused, saying that you needed to be at home when Michael called.
Michael wished more than anything that you had listened to your mom. He wished you hadn't gotten in the car, he wished you hadn't gotten on the highway when it was dark and you could barely see two feet in front of you because of the rain. And he wished more than anything in the world that the man who t-boned your side of the car was the one to die, not you, and not the baby in your belly.
Michael was rushed out of the award ceremony and onto his private jet the second your mother called. He didn't care that it would take him hours to get to you, he truthfully didn't care that the conditions weren't good enough for the plane to take off. He needed to be there for you.
By the time the plane landed and he had gotten to the emergency room it was too late. He saw your parents holding each other in the waiting room, and he knew the worst had happened.
You were gone. His darling angel, the light of his life, was gone forever.
People said that the day you had left was the day Michaels soul left too.
ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹
Things never really got better for Michael. It didn't matter how many hit songs he made, how many tours he went on, how many fans loved him, everything felt empty.
The following month of your passing, Michael was put under close surveillance by his doctors. He barely spoke, let alone do anything else. He moved around like a ghost.
When Janet came to visit she would find him sitting silently on the couch, holding one of your shirts. Other times she would find him sitting at the dining room table writing feverishly. She asked him what he was doing and he would say he was writing letters to you.
The entire family was worried, so they got him a doctor that specializes in grief. They quickly and quietly put him on a combination of different medications, trying desperately to find ones that worked. They were looking for the medicine that would lock away any and all parts of you.
But Michael didn't want to lock you away, he didn't want the feeling of your touch to fade away, he didn't want your scent to just be another smell in the world.
You took his days, his nights, his hopes, his dreams, his life, his world. All of it taken away with you.
He started having episodes the longer he went without sleeping. But he couldn't sleep. He couldn't fall asleep because you weren't holding him, and when he took enough medicine to finally knock him out cold he had violent dreams about you.
His dreams taunted him, showing him the life that he should've been living with you, forcing him to see what could've been.
ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹
It was growing closer to being a full year without you. Some people used the word anniversary, but Michael couldn't. That word made him think of happy occasions, and your death date was anything but that.
He went longer stretches without sleeping, his episodes getting worse. Once, Bill had found him sitting alone in the nursery he had refused to get rid of. Michael sat in the rocking chair with a book, reading it aloud to the baby in his arms as you smiled from across the room at the adorable sight. Except there was no baby, and there was no you. Only Michael.
Janet came over to stay with him the week of that terrible day. She didn't want him to be alone in the house with nothing but doctors and security. She couldn't take it anymore, she couldn't stand to see him in so much pain, and no one was doing anything real about it. So she gathered all the letters he had written to you and put them on the coffee table before dragging Michael out of his room and sitting him down in front of them.
"Michael, this has to stop. You're driving yourself into the ground and I can't sit here and watch it happen anymore." She grabbed his hands.
He was silent for a moment, staring at the letters before speaking, "The first doctor told me that grief that continues past 6 months is pathological and should be medicated. 6 months for the life of my wife and child." His eyes glossed over.
Janet didn't know what to say. She just wanted her brother back, "Michael, it's like she took everything with her. Like she took you with her."
"She did." He answered simply.
"But you let her. Michael, we both know she wouldn't want you living like this. You know that she's worried sick watching over you. And I know as badly as you want to be with her, she doesn't want that yet. It's not your time, and you can't keep trying to speed things up to get to her. She's always going to be waiting for you, she has the patience of a saint, I mean she had to in order to be with you." Janet squeezed his hand.
Michael let out a small laugh, a real laugh. He looked at Janet, "I can't sleep, it's like every time I close my eyes I see everything that I'm missing. You can't possibly ask me to move on from her."
"I'm not asking you to move on, I'm asking for you to live for her."
Michael slowly looked at Janet, something soft in his eyes. For the first time in a year, Janet felt like she had finally seen a small glimpse of her brother.
ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹ļ¹
Michael did as Janet said, he tried to live for you. And he did so for a long time. But his sleeping never really got better. He stopped having visions of you still being alive, but it still pained him to close his eyes at night.
Michael did all the things he thought you would have wanted him to do, he continued making people happy, caring for children, spreading love and joy. In the face of ridiculous accusations and horrible rumors he continued on for you.
But after 13 years, God had finally put an end to the distance. Michael went to sleep, and for the first time it was peaceful. And when he opened his eyes he felt your arms around his waist, and saw your beautiful face looking up at him. Your sweet baby laid gently on your chest as you welcomed him home.
"We missed you, darling."
A/n: this one is on the shorter side cuz it was honestly really hard to write, but I hope everyone likes it. Again, take care of yourself, this is a really hard month for everyone.
the bass was vibrating right through the stadium floor, shaking her chest with every single beat. everywhere around her, thousands of people were screaming, waving their hands, and completely losing their minds, but she could barely focus on anything else except the stage. the energy in the air was absolutely electric, thick with sweat, excitement, and pure euphoria. this was it. it didn't feel real. it felt like a total dream, a moment she had replayed in her head a million times over, but actually being here in the crowd was entirely different.
then, the lights shifted, casting a deep, dramatic glow across the stage, and there he was. michael. right there in front of her own eyes. he moved with so much effortless grace, commanding the entire stadium without even trying. her heart skipped a beat, and for a second, the deafening noise of the crowd completely faded into the background. looking at him, she felt an unbelievable wave of happiness wash over her, a feeling so intense it made her eyes sting with tears. she was actually sharing the same space as him, watching him perform live, and nothing else in the world mattered.
the music kept building, and she exchanged a wild, disbelief-filled look with her friend next to her. both of them were in absolute ecstasy, jumping up and down and holding onto each other's arms just to stay grounded. they were so incredibly proud of themselves for actually making it here, completely overwhelmed by the sheer joy of the moment. her friend screamed something over the noise, her face lit up with a massive smile, and they both just laughed, completely swept away by the magic of the night. they had actually done it; they were standing right in front of the king of pop, and the feeling of pure happiness was completely unmatched.
the soft, familiar intro of "you are not alone" suddenly started playing through the massive speakers, and both of them instantly froze before letting out the loudest screams yet. they were absolutely ecstatic, clutching each other's hands as a wave of pure excitement rushed over them. it was their absolute favorite song, the one they always listened to together, and hearing those first few chords live felt completely surreal. their hearts melted as michael's soft voice filled the stadium, and they looked at each other with wide, emotional eyes, unable to believe they were actually about to watch him perform it right in front of them.
they were right there in the pit, standing at the very front of the crowd directly against the barricade. being all the way at the front meant they had an absolutely flawless view, with nothing and no one blocking their sight of the stage. they could see every single detail so much better nowāthe sweat glistening on his skin, the intricate details of his outfit, and the intense emotion in his eyes as he looked out at the crowd. being this close made the whole experience feel insanely personal, as if he was singing just for them, and they couldn't take their eyes off him for even a second.
as the song finally reached the iconic chorus, the atmosphere in the stadium shifted into something even more intense and magical. right at that exact moment, a few burly security guards and crew members started stepping down into the small gap between the stage and the front barricade, right in front of the pit. she watched them attentively, her heart pounding against her ribs as she realized what was happening. they were searching the crowd, scanning the faces of the frantic fans at the very front to find the one lucky girl who would get to go up on stage with michael for the song.
at first, she felt a sudden wave of skepticism wash over her. she looked at the sea of beautiful, screaming girls surrounding her, all of them waving their arms desperately, crying, and begging to be noticed. there was absolutely no way it would be her. she told herself to stop dreaming, mentally forcing herself to stay grounded because the odds felt completely impossible. she was just one face in a crowd of thousands, and she didn't want to get her hopes up only to be crushed.
but then, out of nowhere, a man from the production crew walked straight down the line and stopped right in front of her section. his eyes locked onto her face, cutting right through her doubts. he leaned over the barricade, shouting slightly over the roaring music and michael's powerful vocals, and asked her directly if she wanted to go up on stage.
her breath hitched, her mind going completely blank for a split second as the reality of the question hit her. all of her skepticism vanished in a heartbeat, replaced by pure, adrenaline-fueled excitement. a massive, ecstatic smile broke across her face, and without a single shred of hesitation, she leaned forward and yelled back, "hell yeah!"
her friend standing right next to her completely froze, her jaw dropping open in utter shock as she processed what had just happened. for a split second, she looked absolutely stunned, unable to believe that the crew member had actually picked her best friend out of the entire crowd. but within a heartbeat, that disbelief turned into pure, unadulterated joy. she started jumping up and down even crazier than before, screaming at the top of her lungs and shoving her forward toward the security guard with a massive, ecstatic smile. she was so incredibly happy for her, totally thrilled that her friend's ultimate dream was coming true right before her eyes, and she gave her one last frantic, encouraging squeeze on the arm as the guard reached out to help her over the barricade.
the second her hands gripped the cold metal of the barricade, a massive rush of pure adrenaline surged through her veins, making her heart beat so fast it felt deafening in her ears. as the security guard grabbed her waist to help pull her over, her feet left the ground and her stomach completely flipped with a mix of intense excitement and disbelief. the roaring crowd behind her suddenly sounded like a distant blur, and her entire body was tingling with a wild, electric energy as she stepped into the gap and made her way toward the stairs.
and then, she saw him. michael was standing right there at the edge of the stage, waiting for her eagerly with his hand extended and a warm, welcoming smile on his face. he was looking directly at her, completely ready to welcome her into his world for the next few minutes. she absolutely could not believe her eyes. seeing him from the pit was one thing, but seeing him stand there specifically waiting for her made her brain completely short-circuit. it felt totally surreal, like a movie playing out in slow motion, and she had to remind herself to keep breathing as she took those last few steps toward his outstretched hand.
the moment her sneakers hit the smooth stage floor, all her remaining restraint completely vanished. instead of walking nervously, she broke into a full-on sprint straight toward him, her face lit up with the biggest, brightest smile. as she ran, she lifted her hand and gave him a rapid, super cute, and incredibly excited little wave, her whole body practically radiating pure joy.
michael watched her rush toward him, and a huge, genuine smile broke out across his face. he let out a soft, delighted laugh, completely charmed by how sweet and energetic her reaction was. he found her bursting excitement absolutely adorable, and his eyes crinkled with pure amusement as he opened his arms wide, ready to catch her.
she didn't stop her sprint until she completely collided with him, burying herself straight into his arms for a super soft, incredibly warm hug. she wrapped her arms securely around his torso, hiding her face against his shoulder and just breathing in the moment, completely melting into his embrace. it wasn't a frantic or aggressive pull; it was a deeply gentle, tender embrace that showed just how much this moment truly meant to her.
michael immediately wrapped his long arms around her in return, holding her close with a protective, soothing grip. he swayed slightly with her from side to side on the massive stage, his touch incredibly soft as he leaned his head down near hers. the fabric of his stage jacket felt real against her hands, and the warmth radiating from him instantly made all the chaos of the stadium disappear. she squeezed him gently, pouring all her love and happiness into the hug, while he just held her securely, giving her all the time she needed to realize that she was finally safe in his arms.
she pulled back just a tiny bit, looking up at him with a wide, starstruck look, and asked him comically, "are you actually even real?"
michael let out another soft, melodic laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners because he found her absolutely adorable. she didn't stop there, though; she kept going, looking at him with a playfully suspicious expression and asking him if he was absolutely, one hundred percent sure that he was real and not just a figment of her imagination. michael's shoulders shook with amusement as he looked down at her, completely charmed by her sweet banter. he chuckled warmly, tightening his grip on her waist just a little bit to prove his point, and told her, "yes, i'm really real, i promise," laughing softly at how incredibly cute she was being.
"are you actually even real?" she asked, her voice cracking slightly with a mix of laughter and complete disbelief as she looked up into his eyes.
michael let out a soft, melodious chuckle, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "yes, i am completely real," he replied, his voice incredibly gentle as he looked down at her.
"no, but are you absolutely, one hundred percent sure?" she pressed on, looking at him with a comically suspicious expression, her hands still resting on his shoulders. "because i feel like i'm definitely dreaming right now and i'm gonna wake up in my bed any second."
michael's shoulders shook with amusement, a bright, genuine smile breaking across his face because he found her reaction so incredibly cute. he tightened his grip around her waist just a little bit, swaying her slightly on the massive stage. "i promise you, you're not dreaming. feel this? i'm right here," he laughed softly, his voice warm and reassuring.
she let out a breathless little laugh, finally accepting that the king of pop was actually holding her. her expression turned completely soft, full of pure emotion as she looked at him. "i just... i need you to know how much you mean to me," she whispered, her voice full of sincerity. "i love you so incredibly much, michael. but really, truly with all of my heart. your music, your heart, everything you do... it changed my life."
michael stopped swaying for a moment, his entire face softening as her heartfelt words sank in. the playful laughter in his eyes turned into something deeply touched and emotional. he looked at her with so much warmth, genuinely affected by how pure and sweet she was being. "thank you so much, sweetheart," he murmured softly, leaning his head down slightly closer to hers. "that means the world to me. truly. it's because of beautiful souls like you that i do this."
"your music is just so beautiful," she continued, her eyes shining as she looked at him, completely unbothered by the thousands of people watching them. "the way you create melodies, the lyrics, the energy... it's like you put your whole soul into every single song. there's literally no one else in the world who can make people feel the way you do."
michael smiled warmly, his cheeks flushing slightly at her words. "thank you, genuinely. i really do try to put all my love into it," he whispered back.
"but it's not even just the music," she pressed on, her voice filled with deep admiration. "it's your whole way of being. you are just so incredibly kind, gentle, and humble, even though you're the biggest star on earth. the way you treat people, your generosity, your heart... you're just a truly beautiful person inside and out, michael."
michael's eyes softened even more, completely overwhelmed by her sweet sincerity. he pressed a hand to his chest, looking down at her with immense gratitude. "you're going to make me cry up here," he chuckled softly, his voice thick with emotion. "thank you so much, sweetheart. your words mean more to me than you'll ever know."
down at the edge of the stage, one of the security guards was watching them closely, waiting for the right moment to intervene. he finally caught michael's eye, subtly lifting his hand and making a quick, questioning gesture to ask if he should step up and escort her back down to the pit.
michael glanced over at the guard, but instead of nodding, he quickly shook his head. he lifted his hand, flashing a subtle, reassuring gesture that clearly communicated *give us five more minutes.*
he turned his attention right back to her, a genuine smile still plastered across his face. truth was, he was completely captivated by her sweet energy and honesty. he was genuinely beginning to enjoy her company, finding her presence incredibly refreshing and comforting amidst the chaos of the massive stadium, and he wasn't ready to let her go just yet.
down in the front row of the pit, her friend was absolutely losing her mind. she was screaming like a complete lunatic, her hands pressed against her cheeks as she watched the entire interaction unfold right in front of her. she was completely shocked, her eyes wide with total disbelief as she looked back and forth between her best friend and michael jackson.
every time michael laughed or leaned in closer to listen, her friend would let out another frantic shriek, jumping up and down and grabbing the arms of the random fans standing next to her because she literally couldn't contain her excitement. she couldn't believe her own eyes; her actual best friend was up there completely charming the king of pop, staying on stage way longer than anyone else ever did, and she was so overwhelmingly hyped and proud she felt like she might faint right there against the barricade.
michael smiled down at her, the warmth in his eyes growing as he gently kept his hand on her shoulder. "i've been so swept away by everything you're saying," he murmured softly, his voice full of genuine curiosity. "but i don't even know who this beautiful soul is. what is your name, sweetheart?"
"my name is y/n," she replied, her voice soft but filled with absolute joy as she looked up at him.
michael's smile widened, and he repeated her name slowly, letting the syllables roll off his tongue with a gentle, melodic tone. "y/n... that is such a beautiful name," he murmured softly, his eyes filled with pure warmth.
hearing her own name spoken by his iconic voice made her heart completely swell, and before she could even think about it, she wrapped her arms around him once more. she threw herself into another huge, tight hug, burying her face into his chest and holding onto him with everything she had, completely overwhelmed by how sweet and perfect the entire moment was.
michael held her tight for a few more seconds, but unfortunately, the time had finally come for her to return to the crowd. the security guard stepped back up onto the stage, approaching them gently since michael had already made it clear she was special. michael looked a little disappointed, a subtle shadow of sadness crossing his face because he was genuinely enjoying her company so much. as the guard reached them, michael looked the man straight in the eyes and gave a firm, protective nod, signaling for the crew to be incredibly gentle with her as they escorted her back down.
she felt a little pang of sadness in her chest too, knowing the dream was coming to an end, but the overwhelming happiness completely outshone it. she backed away slowly, looking at him with shining eyes, and began blowing him a flurry of sweet little kisses through the air. she didn't cause a scene or try to cling to him; she left the stage just as respectfully as she had arrived, waving one last time. michael watched her go, a massive, brilliant smile breaking across his face as he blew a kiss right back, completely captivated by her grace and sweetness until she disappeared into the front row.
just before she dropped back down into the crowd, she turned around one last time, cupped her hands around her mouth, and yelled out, "bye mike!" over the roaring music.
hearing the sweet, casual nickname made michael's smile grow even wider, his eyes crinkling with absolute delight. he gave her one final, enthusiastic wave, completely charmed by her until the very last second.
as the music swelled and the heavy bass kicked back in, michael turned back toward the center of the stage, but his heart was beating wildly in his chestānot just from the intense choreography, but from the lingering rush of that beautiful encounter. he felt an overwhelming wave of pure happiness wash over him, a deep, radiant joy that completely energized his entire body.
a massive, unstoppable smile stayed glued to his face as he launched back into the performance, his movements lighter and more electric than ever. every spin, every sharp glide, and every note he sang felt infused with the sweet, genuine love he had just received from y/n. he kept glancing back toward her section of the crowd, his heart completely full, feeling incredibly grateful for the beautiful reminder of exactly why he loved being on that stage.
the second the final curtain dropped and the roar of the stadium began to fade, michael hurried off the stage, his heart still buzzing from the incredible night. as he walked down the dimly lit backstage corridor, sweat glistening on his face, he wasn't just thinking about the showāhis mind was completely fixed on y/n.
as soon as his styling team and managers converged on him with towels and water bottles, he looked around at everyone, his expression intense but filled with a hopeful energy.
"listen, the girl from earlierāthe one i kept on stage during the performance," michael started quickly, his voice urgent as he wiped his face. "y/n. did anyone catch which section she went back to? we have to find her."
his main manager blinked, surprised by how determined michael looked. "michael, there were eighty thousand people out there. she just went back into the pit."
"no, please, you don't understand," michael pressed, turning to his head of security who was walking right beside him. "she was so incredibly sweet, so genuine. it wasn't just a regular fan moment. i really, truly want to talk to her again. can we check the front row barricade? her friend was right there with her, screaming and wearing..." he paused, trying to recall every detail. "we have to look. please check with the gate staff or see if she's still near the venue. i really want to find her before she leaves tonight."
he was practically pacing up and down the dressing room now, his hands moving frantically as he tried to explain. "no, you don't understand, you guys aren't listening to me! please, we can't just let her walk away into the city. sheās going to leave, and then sheāll be gone forever!"
his manager tried to calm him down, putting a hand on his shoulder. "michael, the concert ended twenty minutes ago. the stadium is already clearing out. it's like looking for a needle in a haystack."
"i don't care about the haystack, find the needle!" michael pleaded, his voice cracking slightly with a desperate, heavy sigh. he looked at his head of security with wide, almost begging eyes. "please, frank, you saw her! she was right by the center barricade. her friend was wearing a bright outfit, they were right there in the front row. can't you send a team out to the parking lots? or the subway gates? she calls me 'mike'ājust ask the staff if they saw a girl named y/n who was just on stage!"
he pressed his hands against his face, feeling a sudden wave of panic that he had missed his only chance. "she told me she loved me with all her heart, and she was so gentle... i can't just let that be a two-minute memory. please, do something, call the stadium security, check the cameras, anything! I just... i really, really need to find her tonight."
seeing how frantic and genuinely desperate he was, his security team realized this wasn't just a fleeting thoughtāmichael was completely consumed by the need to find her. frank immediately grabbed his radio, his voice sharp and urgent as he started barking orders to the entire stadium security network.
"all units, all exits, listen up," frank spoke quickly into the mic, pacing the hallway. "we are looking for a female fan named y/n. she was the one on stage tonight. she was in the front row center barricade, likely accompanied by a female friend. check the vip exits, the main gates, and the parking lots immediately. if you spot her, do not let her leave the premises. hold her politely and notify me right away."
back in the dressing room, michael couldn't even sit down to have his makeup wiped off. he was standing by the door, chewing on his lip, his eyes darting back and forth every time the radio crackled with static.
"did they find her? what are they saying?" michael asked, his voice breathless and trembling slightly as he gripped the edge of the table. "please tell me they didn't lose her already."
"they're checking the main plaza right now, michael," his manager said, trying to soothe him while frantically texting the venue coordinators to check the closed-circuit security cameras near the stage. "the crowd is massive, it takes time to filter out, but we have guys at every major bottleneck."
"tell them to hurry, please," michael whispered, his hands shaking slightly as he pressed them together in a silent prayer. "she has to still be out there. she just has to be."
meanwhile, out in the concrete exit tunnels of the stadium, y/n and her best friend were shuffling along with the rest of the exhausted crowd, completely trapped in their own little bubble of pure euphoria. they were practically leaning on each other for support, laughing so hard they could barely breathe as the sheer shock of the night finally started to hit them.
"iām literally going to throw up, y/n, i am not kidding!" her friend shrieked, slapping y/n's arm repeatedly as they walked. "you were up there for like, a whole lifetime! he literally told his security to back off for you! do you understand that?! michael jackson looked at the guards and went 'no, she stays'!"
y/n let out a breathless, dizzy laugh, her hands flying up to cover her face as her cheeks burned red. "i don't even know what happened! my brain is completely melted. when he repeated my name, his voice sounded so close, and he was just... he was so incredibly soft and gentle..."
"you called him mike!" her friend yelled, drawing stares from a few nearby fans who were also shuffling toward the subway gates. "you literally cupped your hands and yelled 'bye mike' like you guys went to high school together! and he smiled so huge! oh my god, y/n, your life is officially peak. itās never getting better than this."
"i didn't know what else to say!" y/n squealed, hiding her face in her friend's shoulder as they walked past a row of stadium pillars, completely unaware that just a few hundred yards away, the entire backstage security force was frantically looking for them.
back in the dressing room, the walls felt like they were closing in on him. michael couldn't sit still. he paced the floor frantically in his loafers and white socks, his hands trembling as he ran them through his damp hair.
"anything? frank, please, tell me someone saw her," he pleaded, his voice sounding small and breathless as he turned to his head of security. he hated feeling this completely helpless. eighty thousand people had been out there, and the only soul he desperately wanted to connect with was slipping away into the dark.
every time the walkie-talkie on frank's belt crackled, michael's heart leaped straight into his throat. but it was just static and random chatter. nothing.
"michael, the outer gates are almost clear," frank said, looking at him with a heavy, sympathetic sigh. "most of the crowd is already in the tunnels heading toward the subways. it's complete chaos out there right now."
"no, she wouldn't just disappear, she's with a friend," michael insisted, stepping closer to the large man, his wide eyes practically begging. "they're probably still walking slowly, laughing, talking about the show... she called me mike, frank. nobody just calls me mike on stage like that. she was so real. please, tell your guys to check the concrete corridors. the exit tunnels. if she gets to the subway station, i'll never see her again."
michael pressed his forehead against the cool surface of the dressing room mirror, staring at his own reflection but only seeing her shining eyes, hearing her soft voice say *y/n*. he felt a physical ache in his chest, a desperate, nagging panic that he had let something incredibly rare and beautiful just walk right out of his life.
"dear god, please," he whispered under his breath, closing his eyes tightly and pressing his hands together in a fervent prayer. "just let them find her. don't let her leave yet."
deep in the crowded exit tunnels, y/n and her friend were still laughing when three massive, heavily built men in dark clothing suddenly stepped directly into their path, cutting them off from the rest of the moving crowd.
y/n's heart instantly dropped into her stomach. her friend froze right beside her, her laughter cutting off in a sharp gasp. for a terrifying second, they both thought they were in massive troubleāmaybe they had broken a stadium rule, or maybe yelling "bye mike" had crossed a line and they were about to get kicked out or worse. y/n's mind raced, completely convinced they had done something completely wrong.
but before either of them could stammer out an apology, the largest of the three men stepped forward, his expression serious but his tone surprisingly polite.
"are you y/n?" he asked, checking a small note in his hand.
y/n blinked, completely stunned, and nodded slowly. "yes... why?"
the three big guys exchanged a quick, relieved look, and the man nodded back toward the restricted backstage doors. "mr. jackson is looking for you. you need to come with us right now, please."
back in the dressing room, the tension was so thick it was almost suffocating. michael was still pacing, chewing on his thumbnail, his eyes locked onto frankās walkie-talkie as if he could force it to speak through sheer willpower.
suddenly, the radio burst to life with a sharp crackle of static.
"alpha unit to base, we have a visual. repeat, we have the target."
frank immediately snatched the radio off his belt, pressing the button. "alpha, confirm. did you secure y/n?"
"affirmative. center exit tunnel. sheās with a friend. we have them both, and weāre escorting them back to the secure dressing area now. they are cooperating."
the second those words echoed through the small room, michael stopped dead in his tracks. the suffocating panic that had been twisting his stomach for the last half-hour vanished instantly, replaced by a rush of pure, dizzying relief. a breathless laugh escaped his lips, and he threw his head back, running both hands through his hair as a massive, ecstatic smile broke across his face.
"oh thank god," michael breathed out, his voice cracking with pure emotion. he looked at frank, his eyes shining with absolute gratitude. "thank you, frank. thank you so much."
he didn't even wait for them to arrive. michael immediately rushed over to the door, opening it just a crack so he could peer down the hallway, his heart hammering against his ribs in frantic anticipation as he waited to see her face appear around the corner.
down the long, quiet backstage corridor, the heavy footsteps of the three security guards echoed against the concrete walls. locked in the middle of them, y/n and her friend walked in a state of absolute, dazed shock, their eyes wide as they were led deeper and deeper into the restricted area. y/nās heart was hammering so loudly she was certain the guards could hear it.
michael was practically glued to the door crack, his breathing shallow, his eyes scanning the empty hallway. and then, there she was.
the moment her small figure rounded the corner, michael didn't even care about keeping his distance. he threw the door wide open and stepped out into the hallway.
"y/n!" he called out softly, his voice a mix of breathlessness and pure, unfiltered joy.
she stopped dead in her tracks. she looked up, and her breath completely caught in her throat. standing just a few yards away was michael, completely out of his stage jacket, wearing just his simple white shirt, black trousers, and those iconic white socks. the frantic, worried look that had been on his face all night completely melted away, replaced by the biggest, most radiant smile she had ever seen.
"you found her," michael breathed out to the guards, his eyes never leaving y/n's face as he took a few hurried, eager steps toward her. "thank you so much, you guys. you can leave us now."
the large guards nodded and stepped back, leaving y/n and her friend standing there in the middle of the hallway. y/n looked at michael, her mouth slightly open, completely unable to process that the biggest superstar in the world had literally deployed his entire security team just to find her.
seeing them standing there, michael gently gestured toward his private dressing room, giving a warm, welcoming nod. "would you... would you like to come in? just for a little bit?"
y/n stood frozen, her mind completely blank, but her friend suddenly nudged her hard in the ribs. her friend leaned in close, her eyes wide with frantic excitement, and whispered fiercely in her ear, "girl this is your moment ! go, i'll wait right here!"
with one last encouraging push, her friend stepped back, grinning from ear to ear and signaling to the security guards that she was perfectly fine staying in the hallway.
she took a hesitant step forward, and michaelās smile softened into something incredibly sweet. he escorted her inside, gently closing the door behind them and shutting out the rest of the chaotic world. Suddenly, the massive stadium felt miles away, leaving just the two of them in the quiet room.
"i am so, so glad they found you," michael said, his voice dropping to that famously soft, gentle whisper. he walked over to a small couch, turning back to look at her with complete undivided attention. "i was so worried iād never see you again. when you left the stage, i just... i couldn't stop thinking about how sweet you were. you really had my heart beating wildly out there."
y/n swallowed hard, trying to find her voice as she looked at him. "i... i can't believe you looked for me. i thought i was in trouble when the big guys stopped us!"
michael let out a soft, melodic laugh, shaking his head quickly. "oh, no! no, never. iām so sorry if they scared you. i was just desperate to talk to you. you called me 'mike' right before you left, didn't you?" his eyes crinkled with absolute delight at the memory. "nobody ever does that. it felt so real. so genuine. i just really wanted to know who you were, y/n."
she flushed a little, looking down at her hands as she realized what she had actually yelled out in front of thousands of people.
"i'm so sorry," she stammered softly, her voice trailing off a bit. "i think i just got so caught up in the moment... it was probably way too familiar of me to just shout 'mike' like that."
michael immediately shook his head, stepping a little closer to her with an incredibly warm, reassuring look on his face.
"oh, no, please don't apologize!" he said quickly, his voice filled with genuine sincerity as he reached out to gently touch her arm. "you have no idea how much i loved it. honestly, everyone always calls me 'mr. jackson' or 'michael' like i'm this untouchable thing, you know? but when you said 'mike,' it felt so warm. it felt like you actually saw me, not just the performer on stage."
he smiled softly, his eyes completely locking onto hers. "it made me feel like we were already friends. so please, don't ever feel bad about it. i want you to call me mike."
y/n smiled, her eyes lighting up as she looked at him. "i've actually been a fan of yours for a really long time. i've always, always loved your music. it's just so incredible."
michaelās hand moved to his chest, his fingers pressing against his white shirt right over his heart. a soft, incredibly touched expression washed over his face, his dark eyes softening completely as he looked at her.
y/n chuckled softly, the last of her nerves completely evaporating. "honestly? it's so hard to choose just one. but there's this one song... every single time it plays, my mom and i just burst into song together, no matter what we're doing."
michaelās eyes lit up with absolute delight, and he let out that soft, melodic laugh of his. "oh, really? that is beautiful! which one is it? you have to tell me!"
"i can't help it, we sing it every single time!" she laughed, waving her hands in the air.
"i love that so much," michael said, his smile spreading so wide his cheeks cracked. he shifted on the couch, pulling one leg up under himself and completely abandoning any formal posture. it was like a switch had flipped; the superstar persona was entirely gone, replaced by a warm, familiar energy. "you know, thatās exactly how it should be. music is supposed to bring family together like that."
they ended up losing all track of time after that. the minutes bled into a full, beautiful hour as they just sat there talking about absolutely everything. the huge stadium outside was completely silent by now, but inside the dressing room, it felt like their own private world where the conversation never hit a single dry spell.
they talked about the sheer madness of the history tour, and y/n found herself teasing him about his dramatic stage entrances, making him bury his face in his hands while giggling uncontrollably.
they were sitting close now, gesturing wildly, interrupting each other, and sharing inside jokes as if they had known each other since childhood. michael looked at her, his expression deeply content and incredibly relaxed, completely forgetting about his managers or the time. he just felt an instant, deep connection, completely comfortable in her presence.
but eventually, the ticking clock pulled them back to reality. the sheer exhaustion of such an emotional night was slowly starting to catch up with them, and michael glanced down at his watch. his expression softened with a touch of gentle regret. it was getting incredibly late.
"i can't believe a whole hour has passed already," he whispered, a slightly sad but sweet smile playing on his lips as he turned to face her. "i really hate to admit this, y/n, but i think itās getting late.."
he stood up gracefully, offering his hand to help her up. a deep, protective look filled his eyes; he wanted nothing more than to ensure she made it back home completely safe and sound, without taking any risks at such an incredibly late hour.
"the streets are going to be so empty, and the subways aren't safe this late," he added, his voice dropping to a concerned, gentle murmur as he lightly held her hands. "i need to know that you're safe, okay? that's the most important thing to me. iām going to have frank and my security team drive you and your friend directly back to your house in a private car. please, promise me you'll take care of yourself."
y/n looked up at him, her heart swelling at how genuinely worried he was about her. she smiled softly, her voice dipping into a very sweet, tender tone as she squeezed his hands back.
"it's you who should be taking care of yourself, mike," she said softly, a playful but deeply caring glint in her eyes. "you just gave everything you had to eighty thousand people out there, and here you are, still worrying about me. promise me you'll get some rest, too."
michael's eyes widened slightly, completely melting at her words. a soft, incredibly touched blush crept up his cheeks, and he let out a shy, breathless little giggle, ducking his head for a second before looking back at her with absolute fondness.
"i promise," he whispered, his smile warmer than ever.
she looked at his sweet, blushing face, and before she could let her overthinking mind stop her, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder.
michael gasped softly in surprise, but within a split second, his long arms wrapped securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. he held her so tightly, his chin resting against the top of her head as he breathed in the scent of her hair. the hug was warm, desperate, and filled with a deep, silent understanding.
"i'm so scared for this to end," she whispered into the fabric of his shirt, her voice cracking slightly as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. she squeezed him even tighter, completely letting go of her filters. "i wish i could just stay with you like this for the rest of my life."
michaelās grip on her tightened instantly at her words, his heart hammering wildly against her chest. he closed his eyes, a wave of intense emotion washing over him as he rocked her gently back and forth in the quiet dressing room, wishing with everything he had that he could make time stop completely.
still clinging to him, her voice muffled against his shoulder, she took a soft, shaky breath and looked up just enough to meet his eyes.
"do you... do you think it would ever be possible?" she asked softly, her eyes searching his face. "for us to just meet up and talk like this again? like real friends, without all the madness around us?"
michael's eyes softened completely, filled with a deep, quiet sincerity. he reached up, his long fingers gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face, his touch incredibly tender.
"i want that more than anything, y/n," he whispered, his voice full of emotion. "i don't want this to be just for tonight. to me, we are real friends now."
he tightened his grip on her, pulling her even closer into the hug as a wave of pure relief washed over the both of them. the lingering sadness of having to say goodbye completely dissolved, replaced by this intense, overwhelming happiness. knowing that this wasn't just a fleeting momentāthat they were actually going to stay in each other's livesāchanged everything.
michael buried his face into the crook of her neck, letting out a long, contented breath that he felt like heād been holding all night. y/n wrapped her arms even tighter around him, the warmth of his chest pressing against hers making her feel completely safe, grounded, and incredibly reassured.
when they finally, slowly pulled back, neither of them could stop smiling. michaelās dark eyes were absolutely glowing, his cheeks flushed with a bright, joyful energy that completely erased all his exhaustion. she looked up at him, her heart bursting with happiness, feeling a profound sense of peace knowing that their connection was completely mutual and real.
Summary: Y/N is releasing her new song Partition and her husband Michael is wanting to be in the music video.
Authors note: Guys. Iāve reworked one of my fics Iāve had sitting there.. based on a couple of requests I got recently (thank you!). Im screaming and kicking my feet.
This is probs one of my steamier fics (no explicit content)
The studio speakers pulsed with bass as Y/N replayed the rough cut of her newest single for the fifth time that afternoon.
The entire album felt different from anything she had done beforeāslick, sensual, playful. Turning thirty had shifted something in her. She wanted confidence. Ownership. Music that felt feminine and dangerous and entirely hers.
And Michael loved every second of it.
He lounged across the couch in the studio with his black fedora tipped low, long legs crossed, smiling to himself while she moved around the room explaining concepts with animated hands.
āYou look happy doing this,ā he said softly.
āI am happy doing this.ā
āAnd the musicās goodā he added quickly, pointing at her. āReal good.ā
She grinned. āYou just like watching me dance.ā
āThat too.ā
Everything stayed perfect until the label brought up the music video for the lead single.
Partition.
The treatment was spread across the table between them. Vintage car. Parisian club aesthetic. Corsets. Silk gloves. A mysterious male love interest in the backseat with her.
Michaelās smile vanished line by line.
āSoā¦ā he said carefully. āThis man touches you?ā
Y/N blinked. āMichaelāā
āIn lingerie?ā
āItās acting.ā
His jaw tightened behind those signature dark glasses. Dangerous rehearsals had already swallowed most of his life, and the idea of another man all over Y/N while the entire world watched clearly ignited something territorial in him.
Her manager sighed immediately. āOh no.ā
Michael ignored everyone.
āIāll do it.ā
The room froze.
āMichaelā¦ā his publicist nearly choked. āAbsolutely not.ā
āYouāre about to start the another tourā another warned. āThis image does not fitāā
āI said Iāll do it.ā
The quiet authority in his voice ended the discussion.
He turned toward Y/N then, softer instantly.
āIf somebodyās gonna look at you like thatā he murmured, āitās gonna be me.ā
And Y/N.
She nearly melted into the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nobody on the Partition set expected the footage to feel so dangerous.
Not because of the lingerie.āØNot because of the choreography.āØNot even because Michael Jackson had agreed to appear in a video far more sensual than anything audiences associated with him publicly.
It was the energy between him and Y/N that changed everything.
The entire concept had originally been built around flirtation and fantasy.
But the second cameras started rolling, something far more intense settled over the production.
Possession.āØDevotion.āØThe unmistakable feeling that Michael did not enjoy sharing Y/N with the roomāeven performatively.
The opening breakfast sequence only hinted at it.
Morning light spilled across the elegant set while Y/N moved alone through the kitchen in one of his white button-down shirts, silk slipping against bare skin while untouched coffee cooled on the table beside her.
Michael wasnāt fully visible yet.
Only fragments appeared onscreen.
A black-clad figure passing behind her.āØA man reading a newspaper.
The audience was meant to recognize him slowly.
And they absolutely would.
Because no matter how carefully the framing hid his face, Michaelās presence dominated every shot anyway.
Especially in the details.
The black silk sleeves.āØThe familiar hands.āØThe unmistakable posture.
One camera assistant quietly muttered:āØāThis is surreal.ā The atmosphere shifted completely once the limousine scenes began filming.
Michael sat alone beneath low amber lighting in the partitioned backseat wearing all blackātailored trousers, fitted silk shirt, dark aviators concealing his eyes while gold jewelry flashed subtly against his skin.
He looked controlled.
Until Y/N entered the car.
Then every ounce of restraint became visibly deliberate.
Crew members noticed immediately how physical he became around her without instruction. His hand constantly found her waist. Her hip. The bare skin just above her stockings.
Not aggressively.
Instinctively.
Like touching her grounded him.
The cameras captured it beautifully and almost uncomfortably well.
One particular setup became infamous among the crew almost immediately.
Y/N sat beside him in the limousine while the music pulsed softly through hidden speakers, her legs crossing slowly beneath the slit of black fabric. Michaelās hand rested against her thigh almost casually at first.
Then his fingers moved.
Slowly tracing along the lace edge of her thigh-high stockings.
The monitor room went silent.
Because the movement felt absentmindedly intimateāas though heād forgotten the cameras existed entirely.
And if viewers paused at exactly the right frame later, theyād notice something else too.
A faint glimpse of the small āy/nā tattoo hidden near Michaelās ring finger as his hand slid against her stocking.
Tiny.āØAlmost impossible to catch.
But there.
The detail would later send fans into complete hysteria.
During filming, though, nobody behind the monitors was thinking about tattoos.
They were too distracted by the way Michael looked at her.
There was no performance in it.
No exaggerated music-video seduction.
It looked territorial.
The kind of attention that made the entire limousine suddenly feel too small for anyone else to be inside it.
At one point Y/N shifted naturally closer during a scene transition, laughing quietly between takes while adjusting his collar.
Michaelās hand immediately slid higher along her thigh in response, thumb pressing against the lace edge of her stocking while he tilted his head toward her like the rest of the room had disappeared.
Nobody called cut.
Nobody wanted to interrupt whatever was happening onscreen.
The footage felt magnetic.
Not polished.āØNot calculated.
Private.
That was what unsettled the crew most.
Michael had always been carefully managed publicly; soft-spoken, elusive, controlled beneath layers of celebrity mystique.
But in this environment, around Y/N, another side surfaced entirely.
One that watched her too closely.āØTouched her too possessively.āØLooked at her like he physically disliked distance.
The dance sequence inside the partitioned limousine pushed that tension even further.
Y/N moved between his knees beneath dark red lighting while Michael remained seated watching her, bare hands sliding slowly along her thigh in time with the music.
The choreography itself wasnāt especially explicit.
His reactions were.
The slight tilt of his head whenever she touched him.āØHis fingers tightening subtly at her waist.āØThe way he leaned toward her every single time she pulled away.
The camera operators started intentionally lingering on him because his restraint looked more provocative than the choreography itself.
One producer finally whispered what everyone had been thinking for hours:
āHe looks obsessed with her.ā
And honestlyāāØthere wasnāt another word for it.
By the end of filming, the atmosphere on set had changed completely.
Nobody was watching a pop star cameo in his wifeās music video anymore.
They were watching two people with years of history, attraction, devotion and possessiveness trying and failing to tone it down enough for public release.
Which was exactly why the finished video shocked the world so badly.
Because audiences werenāt reacting to simulated chemistry.
They were reacting to something that looked undeniably real.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The MTV Music Awards had already been loud that night.
But the second Y/Nās name appeared across the massive screen behind the stage, the entire arena shifted.
Because everyone knew.
Everyone had seen the Partition video.āØEveryone had dissected the chemistry.āØEveryone wanted to know if Michael Jackson would react.
And the camera found him immediately.
Front row.
Black leather jacket. Silver details catching the lights. Short curls soft around his face. Those familiar dark glasses hiding his eyes, though not nearly enough.
He crossed one leg over the other casually as applause erupted around him, trying to look unaffected.
He failed before the performance even started.
The stage went dark.
ThenāāØa low bassline rolled through the arena.
A single spotlight illuminated Y/N at the top of a long staircase draped in barely anything, crystal lingerie and gold lighting. Diamonds that Michael bought her glittering against her throat. The crowd exploded instantly.
Michael leaned forward.
āOh noā one of his security muttered quietly beside him.
Because they knew that posture.
That was not Michael Jackson the King of Pop anymore.
That was Michael watching his wife.
And those were two very different people.
Y/N descended the staircase slowly, every movement smooth and controlled, dancers surrounding her like shadows while the audience screamed louder with every beat.
The cameras cut back to Michael again.
Big mistake.
Because he looked completely captivated already.
One hand covering his mouth.āØHead tilted slightly.āØTrying and failing not to smile.
āOh, heās goneā a celebrity seated behind him laughed.
The performance only got worse for him from there.
By the second verse, Y/N was fully enjoying herself.
She danced across the stage with deliberate confidence, teasing the audience, teasing the camerasā teasing him.
And every single time she glanced toward the front row, Michael reacted instinctively.
A grin.āØA quiet laugh.āØLooking down at the floor for a second like he needed to collect himself.
The audience noticed immediately.
So did the broadcast director.
Which meant the camera kept returning to him over and over again.
At one point Y/N slid onto a chair during the choreography and crossed her legs slowly to the music.
Michael physically leaned back in his seat and dragged a hand down his face.
The crowd lost their minds.
āHe cannot HANDLE thisā someone screamed near the stage.
And honestly?
They were right.
Because despite decades of performing in front of millions of people, despite the screaming crowds and sold out stadiums and global fameāāØMichael still looked devastatingly human when it came to Y/N.
Especially when she looked at him like that.
Then came the final verse.
And suddenly Y/N started walking toward the front of the stage.
Toward him.
Michael straightened immediately.
āOh noā¦ā he whispered under his breath, already smiling nervously.
She stopped directly at the edge of the stage, eyes locked on him beneath the gold lights while the music softened.
The audience went dead quiet in anticipation.
āHe likes to call meā¦ā she sang slowly.
Michael shook his head once, already suspicious.
Then she smiled.
āMs. Jackson when we get this nasty.ā As she flips her hair and struts back in full confidence.
The arena erupted so violently it nearly drowned out the music.
People stood up screaming.āØCelebrities clutched each other.āØOne camera operator audibly yelled āOH MY GOD.ā
And Michaelā Michael completely broke.
He dropped his head into both hands laughing in disbelief while the crowd roared around him. When he finally looked back up at Y/N, he was blushing so hard beneath the stage lights it was visible even through the distance.
She just winked.
Winked.
āYāall see what I gotta deal with?ā he laughed breathlessly toward nobody in particular.
By the final chorus the entire audience was on their feet.
But Michael barely noticed any of them.
He watched Y/N like she was the only person in the room.
Proud.āØCompletely enamored.āØA little overwhelmed.
And very, very turned on.
When the performance finally ended, Y/N held her pose center stage while confetti rained from the ceiling and the crowd screamed loud enough to shake the theater.
The cameras cut to Michael one final time.
Still standing.āØStill applauding.āØStill smiling like an absolute fool behind those dark glasses.
And for the first time all night, he didnāt even try to hide it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later, the afterparty still buzzed behind them somewhere deep in the city.
Music.āØChampagne.āØIndustry people talking too loudly.āØQuestions neither of them wanted to answer.
But inside the waiting car, everything finally went quiet.
The privacy partition slid closed with a soft mechanical hum as Michael leaned back against the leather seat, exhaling deeply for what felt like the first time all night.
The tension of the performance still clung to him.
Y/N could see it in the loosened jacket hanging open around his throat, in the flush still lingering beneath his skin from the stage lights and endless attention. His curls were slightly messy from people constantly touching him backstage, shorter hair soft around his face in a way she found unfairly attractive.
He looked exhausted.
And completely wired at the same time.
Michael rubbed a hand over his mouth before looking at her beside him.
āYou almost killed me tonightā he muttered finally.
Y/N laughed softly, slipping off one heel and tucking her legs beneath her. āYou survived.ā
āBarely.ā
His voice still carried that dazed disbelief heād worn ever since the āMrs. Jacksonā lyric.
She smiled innocently.
āYou liked it.ā
Michael looked at her for a long moment over the edge of his sunglasses.
Then gave a quiet scoff.
āWomanā¦ā he murmured, shaking his head. āYou knew exactly what you were doinā to me out there.ā
āMaybe a little.ā
āA little?ā He laughed breathlessly. āThey kept puttinā cameras on me every five seconds. I couldnāt even hide.ā
āThatās because your reactions were better than the show.ā
Michael groaned dramatically and leaned his head back against the seat.
āI hate you.ā
āNo. you donāt.ā She said prettily.
āNoā he admitted immediately. āI really donāt.ā
The city blurred outside the windows in streaks of gold and white as silence settled comfortably between them for a moment.
Then Michael suddenly leaned forward toward the stereo.
And Y/N already knew that look.
āOh no.ā
His fingers turned the volume knob.
The opening bassline of Partition slid through the speakers.
Y/N burst into laughter instantly.
āMichael!ā
āWhat?ā he asked innocently, settling back beside her. āThought maybe we should study the material.ā
āYou are unbelievable.ā
āIām supportiveā he corrected smoothly.
āSupportive?ā
āVery.ā
The grin tugging at his mouth was impossible to miss now.
He shifted closer until his arm slid naturally behind her shoulders, pulling her into his side while the music played softly around them.
And just like that, the mood changed again.
Not suddenly.
Slowly.
The adrenaline of the evening melted into something warmer and more private.
Michaelās fingers traced absent patterns along her waist while he watched her quietly, expression softening beneath the tinted aviators.
āYou looked so beautiful tonight,ā he said after a while, voice lower now. āCouldnāt stop lookinā at you.ā
The sincerity in it made her smile fade into something gentler.
āYou looked pretty good yourself, Mr. Jackson.ā
His eyebrow lifted immediately. āThe short hair?ā
āThe short hair.ā
āI knew you liked it.ā
āYouāve been unbearable ever since you cut it.ā
Michael laughed softly under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.
The car dipped through another turn, city lights flashing across his face in quick fragments gold jewelry, dark lenses, the sharp line of his jaw.
God, he looked good tonight.
Dangerously good.
And he knew it now too.
āYou were lookinā at me during the performance,ā he accused lightly.
āI was performing.ā
āMhm.ā
āI was.ā
āBabyā he said, smiling knowingly, āyou almost climbed into my lap in front of America.ā
She laughed so hard she nearly tipped into his shoulder.
āWell maybe if you didnāt look so good sitting thereā
Michael made a quiet victorious sound beneath his breath and pulled her closer immediately.
āThere it is.ā
āOh shut up.ā
But she was smiling when she said it.
His hand slid slowly along her side beneath the fabric of her dress, fingertips warm against her waist while her own drifted upward into the curls at the nape of his neck.
The music continued low around them.
Bass humming softly beneath the quiet intimacy of the car.
Their laughter faded naturally after that.
Into lingering glances.āØInto softer touches.āØInto kisses that started playful and slowly lost all sense of restraint.
Michael kissed like he performedācompletely.
One hand cupping her jaw while the other settled possessively against her waist, pulling her fully against him as though heād been waiting all night to finally have her to himself again.
āYou drove me crazy tonightā he murmured against her mouth.
āYou survivedā she whispered again teasingly.
āBarelyā he repeated, smiling against her lips before kissing her deeper.
Outside, camera flashes suddenly exploded against the windows.
Rapid.āØBlinding.
Both of them paused slightly.
Paparazzi.
Of course.
Michael pulled back just enough to glance toward the lights outside the car. Reporters were already crowding near the curb, cameras flashing wildly after clearly catching more than enough through the glass.
Years ago, he mightāve panicked.
Tonight?
He barely reacted.
Instead he just looked back at Y/N still half-curled against him, lipstick slightly smudged, smiling breathlessly beneath the dim lighting.
And he shrugged.
The world had speculated for years anyway.
So rather than move away, Michael simply leaned in again and kissed her slower this time completely unbothered by the cameras exploding outside.
Y/N laughed softly against his mouth.
āYou knowā¦ā she whispered, fingertips brushing along the collar of his jacket, āif you keep looking at me like that, we really are gonna end up trying for a baby.ā
Michael stilled for exactly one second.
Then his expression changed completely.
Not shocked.
Interested.
Deeply interested.
A slow smile spread across his face the dangerous kind that always made Y/N immediately question her own ability to behave rationally around him.
āWellā he murmured, reaching up to slide Y/Nās dress back into place as they get ready to exit the limo āthat sounds like a wonderful idea to me.ā
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author note:
*sigh* I love them.
Let me know what you think? I also have Michaelās dangerous performance drafted as well if there is interest?
Pairing : Michael Jackson (Thriller) x fem doctor reader
Summery: After the Pepsi accident during the Thriller era, you receive Michael Jacksonās recovery schedule and medical records and quickly realize his treatment is being handled in a way that prioritizes keeping him working rather than properly healing him. The medications, packed schedule, and lack of rest all point to someone being pushed back into function too soon. And youāre not having any of it.
Warnings: This includes themes of medical injury and recovery following the Pepsi incident, chronic pain, exhaustion and overwork, and the emotional strain of being pushed back into work while still healing. It also touches on prescription medication and treatment management, power imbalance between Michael and his management, and a confrontation in a professional setting regarding his schedule and care. (Ps: im a medical student sooo I got carried away with the warning sorry)
There was something that immediately unsettled you the first time Michael Jackson walked into your office after the pepsi accident and it wasnāt the security trailing behind him, or the sunglasses hiding half his face, or even the visible damage near the side of his scalp hidden beneath carefully styled curls.
It was how normal he tried to make all of it sound.
He spoke about the pain the same way someone would speak about the weather. soft voice. polite smile. hands folded carefully in his lap while he explained the headaches, the burning sensation that still lingered across his scalp, the trouble sleeping, the dizziness from some of the medication. and the entire time he kept apologising for āramblingā whenever he answered your questions too long like he was worried about inconveniencing you by describing his own symptoms.
And you hated that immediately.
Because you could tell right away this was a man who had already grown used to minimizing his own pain for the comfort of everybody around him.
You remember asking him quietly if he could remove the sunglasses so you could properly examine him and the hesitation that crossed his face for a split second before he obeyed. Almost shy about it. Like he was embarrassed.
And when you finally examined the damage to his scalp up close, your chest tightened.
Because the injury itself was serious enough, but what angered you more was how exhausted he looked overall. dark circles beneath his eyes barely concealed beneath makeup. How sluggish some of his reactions were. How he kept rubbing at his temples whenever he thought you werenāt looking. Even the way he sat told you enough , stiff posture, subtle tension in his shoulders, somebody constantly bracing for discomfort.
And the moment you asked to see his medical records and the list of medications his doctors currently had him taking, everything only got worse.
You still remember sitting there in your office flipping slowly through paperwork while michael watched you carefully from across the room. And the quieter you became, the more nervous he started looking.
Because your expression kept changing the further you read.
Sedatives stacked on top of pain medication, sleeping aids, medications to counteract side effects from other medications. Temporary solutions instead of long term healing, almost no focus on actual recovery beyond making sure he remained functional enough to continue obligations.
You could physically feel your irritation growing.
ā Mr Jacksonā¦..they have you rehearsing already?ā you asked finally without looking up from the file. Michael shifted slightly in his seat before nodding.
āSome rehearsals,ā he answered softly. ānot too much.ā
You looked up at him then, one glance at the exhaustion written all over his face and you already knew that was a lie told out of habit rather than malice, because somewhere along the line people had taught Michael that overworking himself was normal.
You think what bothered you most was how unsurprised he seemed by your reaction. Almost like he was already preparing himself for another doctor to throw more medication at him and send him back out to work. Instead you closed the folder slowly and leaned back in your chair with the kind of controlled anger that made michael straighten slightly without realizing it.
āThis wonāt do, you need proper recovery,ā you told him plainly, ānot just enough treatment to keep you standing. With all due respect Mr Jackson , these doctors your seeing do not seem to care about healing you, all Iām seeing is them throwing anything at you to keep your mouth shut from complaining about the pain.ā
You took a deep breath and softened your gaze, āleave this to me Mr Jackson, Iāll get you sorted out straight away, properlyā¦ā¦Iāll make sure those scars and pain healā
The way he looked at you after thatā¦quiet. confused. almost cautious. like nobody had phrased it that way to him before. After that first appointment you completely took over his treatment plan. The deeper you got into it the angrier you became.
Because once you started paying attention to him properly it became painfully obvious how neglected his overall wellbeing actually was beneath the image management. Yes, people cared that Thriller was successful. Yes, people cared that michael could perform. But very few people seemed concerned with whether michael himself was actually healthy.
So you started changing everything slowly.
Cutting back medications carefully after realizing half of them were worsening his exhaustion. Introducing herbal teas and natural sleep remedies because michael admitted one afternoon in an almost embarrassed voice that he hated how groggy the pills made him feel. Focusing on healing the damaged scalp tissue itself instead of just numbing the pain surrounding it.
And michael noticed every single thing you did.
He noticed that you actually listened when he described symptoms instead of interrupting him halfway through. Noticed how detailed your notes were during appointments. Noticed how you explained every medication change thoroughly so he understood exactly what was happening to his body, how serious you became anytime he casually admitted to skipping meals or sleeping only a few hours.
And slowly, without either of you realizing it at first, your office became one of the only places where michael actually relaxed. There would be afternoons where he arrived visibly exhausted from interviews or rehearsals and the second you looked at him you already knew. ā Micheal you didnāt sleep, did you?,ā youād say before he even sat down. His name rolling naturally from your voice, he told you to call him by his name once he started getting comfortable with you.
Once you said that your eyes gazing at him disapproving but concerned and tender michael would immediately glance away because somehow it still surprised him that somebody noticed things like that. And he still not used to someone this caring for him ,even though youāre a doctor and itās your job, he still sometimes finds himself drawn towards your care. Sometimes youād catch him quietly watching you while you worked too. Sitting patiently on the examination table while you checked over notes or prepared treatments, his tired eyes following your movements around the room with this strange softness to them.
Or when he subconsciously leans into your soft hands, and completely relaxes whenever you touch his skin
Because you werenāt looking at him like the rest of the world did. You werenāt staring at Michael Jackson the global phenomenon. You were looking at Michaelā¦ā¦just Michaelā¦..who is somebody clearly in pain. Michael didnāt know how to handle that at first.
He was so accustomed to people pushing him past his limits that your strictness almost caught him off guard. the first time you firmly postponed an appointment because he looked too exhausted to continue working afterward, michael genuinely stared at you in disbelief.
ābut Frank already scheduledāā
āMicheal, sweetheartā the pet name just spilling out like it was normal. ā I donāt care what Frank DiLeo scheduled,ā you interrupted flatly while continuing to write in his chart. āyou can barely keep your eyes open.ā
The silence afterward was almost funny because michael looked completely stunned someone had spoken over management on his behalf instead of the other way around including how you also called him sweatheart though he wonāt admit it comforted him deeply & made him slightly flustered coming from a pretty doctor.
but after that?
He started trusting you frighteningly fast. Because you became one of the only people around him willing to say no. The only one willing to argue with staff when schedules became ridiculous. The only one willing to tell him directly when his body was reaching its limits. The only one who seemed more concerned with him surviving all of this than maintaining the machine surrounding him.
And sometimes, during late appointments after long rehearsal days, youād catch him looking at you with this quiet unreadable expression while you adjusted bandages near his scalp or handed him another cup of herbal tea. soft. exhausted. almost vulnerable. Like he still couldnāt fully comprehend why somebody was finally taking care of him without wanting something in return.
Though he wasnāt complaining he was just relieved & happy to finally found someone who saw him as just another human being & maybe someone he can call a friend.
MOONWALKERS, time to pull through! Netflix is trying to release a documentary on Michael called 'Michael Jackson: The Verdict', right after the release of the Michael movie. It's clear they're trying to defame and make Michael look bad after the release of the Michael movie and as he's hitting another peak, even in the afterlife. He's already been proven innocent multiple times, including in the law, why release this when we already know the truth?
Sign this petition, share with others, donate if you can or want to, to get them to take down the documentary!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Warnings: swearing, paparazzi harassment, age gap discourse, media pressure, chaotic behavior, protective reader, fluff/humor
Tags: michael jackson x reader, black reader, protective reader, chaotic reader, funny reader, media trained michael, public relationship, paparazzi, interview gone wrong, crack treated seriously, fluff, series potential, 90s michael jackson
Taglist: @simply-lovley44 @cocomilaa @blcknebula
inspired by this post @callmeoncette
The flashing cameras almost blinded you the second the two of you stepped out of the black SUV.
āMichael! Michael over here!ā
āHow long have you two been together?ā
āMichael, is the relationship getting serious?ā
āY/N! Y/N!ā
Michaelās hand tightened around yours immediately, thumb rubbing softly against your skin in that quiet way he always did whenever crowds got overwhelming.
āYou okay?ā he murmured softly.
You looked over at him in disbelief.
āAm I okay? Baby, are you okay? They yellinā like zoo animals.ā
Michael physically had to bite back a smile.
āBabyā
āNo, because why are they barking at us?ā
The interview host standing near the carpet entrance laughed awkwardly before quickly straightening up when Michael looked over.
Michael lowered his head slightly, curls falling near his face as he tried to compose himself.
āCāmon,ā he whispered, gently guiding you forward.
The relationship had gone public barely three weeks ago, and the media had been losing their minds ever since.
Not because Michael Jackson had a girlfriend.
But because you were absolutely terrible at public relations.
You didnāt smile politely at rude questions.
You didnāt dodge disrespect.
And you definitely didnāt care about Hollywood etiquette.
Which explained why Michaelās publicist currently looked like she was five seconds away from cardiac arrest.
The interviewer smiled brightly as cameras zoomed in.
āItās wonderful to have you both here tonight.ā
āThank you,ā Michael answered sweetly.
You nodded. āAppreciate it.ā
The interviewer turned toward Michael first.
āSo Michael, your fans have been very curious about this relationship. Itās definitely surprised a lot of people.ā
Michael smiled politely. Calm. Practiced.
āWell, Iām very happy,ā he said gently. āSheās very special to me.ā
Then the interviewer looked at you.
āAnd whatās it like dating the biggest star in the world?ā
You shrugged.
āHe steals my food.ā
Michael looked scandalized.
āI do not steal your food.ā
āYes you do.ā
āI ask for it.ā
āYou ask after itās already halfway gone micheal.ā
The interviewer laughed softly.
Michael covered part of his face, already embarrassed.
Then the interviewer made the mistake.
āSoā¦ā she started carefully, āthereās obviously been conversation online about your age and maturity level compared to Michaelās. Some people think you may not fully understand the pressure that comes with being with someone like him.ā
Michaelās smile dropped instantly.
You felt his hand squeeze yours once.
Warning, begging even...
Please donāt.
āUh,ā Michael started softly, āI donāt really think...ā
āAnd some critics,ā the interviewer continued, āhave questioned whether youāre prepared for this kind of public relationship.ā
Michael inhaled slowly.
āBaby,ā he whispered under his breath.
Too late.
You blinked at the woman.
āWhat kinda stupid-ass question is that?ā
The entire audience and crew went silent.
Michael froze beside you.
The interviewer stared.
Cameras zoomed in on you so fast it was almost violent.
You frowned.
āNo seriously. How are you qualified to have this job if thatās what you ask people?ā
ābabyā Michael whispered, horrified.
āIām serious,ā you continued. āYāall get paid to be weird and disrespectful on television and then act shocked when somebody says something back.ā
The interviewer looked absolutely stunned.
āWell, I...ā
āAnd another thing,ā you cut in. āEvery interview this man does, somebody feels comfortable disrespecting him as long as they smile while doing it.ā
Michael looked down at the floor, shoulders already shaking slightly.
āYou ask rude questions, pry into his personal life, make slick comments, then try to hide behind professionalism when people call it out. Itās weird.ā
The interviewer opened and closed her mouth for a second.
āAnd now suddenly Iām immature because Iām not sitting here pretending that question wasnāt rude?ā
āBaby,ā Michael mumbled weakly, āyou canāt say that on television.ā
āYes I can.ā
āNo you canāt.ā
āYes I can and I will.ā
āAnd honestly,ā you continued, āhalf the interviews he does feel less like interviews and more like yāall trying to see how uncomfortable you can make him before he reacts.ā
Michael physically turned away now, trying to hide the fact that he was laughing.
The interviewer awkwardly cleared her throat.
āS-So Michaelā¦ about the question I asked earlier...ā
āWhat she said,ā Michael answered immediately.
The interviewer stared at him in disbelief.
Michael finally looked back over at you with the brightest grin youād seen all night.
--------
By the time the two of you finally made it inside the venue, the tension from the interview had completely shifted.
Mostly because Michael could not stop laughing.
āYou embarrassed me,ā he whispered as the two of you walked through the hallway toward the backstage area.
You looked at him incredulously.
āI embarrassed you?ā
āYes,ā he said immediately, still smiling. āYou attacked that poor woman.ā
āShe attacked you first.ā
Michael shook his head, curls bouncing slightly.
āYou called her stupid on live television.ā
āI said the question was stupid.ā
āThat is not better.ā
You crossed your arms dramatically.
āWell maybe she should stop asking dumb questions then.ā
Michael tried to stay serious for about three seconds before another laugh escaped him.
āThere you go again,ā he mumbled.
āOh, donāt do that,ā you said, pointing at him. āDonāt act so pleased with me now after sitting there acting all shocked.ā
āI was shocked!ā
āYou were laughing!ā
āI was trying not to!ā
You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.
āYou liked it.ā
Michael immediately looked away.
Which told you everything.
Your mouth dropped open.
āOh my God, you DID like it.ā
āI did not say that.ā
āYou didnāt have to.ā
Michael covered part of his face with one hand, already smiling again.
āYou shouldāve seen your publicistās face,ā you continued. āThat lady looked like she was about to pass out.ā
āShe probably was.ā
āWell maybe next time theyāll stop asking you weird questions.ā
Michael slowed down slightly then.
The teasing expression on his face softened into something else, something softer.
Something genuine.
āYou really donāt like when people disrespect me, huh?ā
You looked at him like the answer shouldāve been obvious.
ššøšæš® ššŖš·āš½ š¦šŖš²š½ ā Michael Jackson x Black!Reader
warnings: fluff, married michael, public affection, teasing, media attention, concert atmosphere, established relationship, soft michael, jackson family antics
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.
āOh, Lord,ā she muttered beside you, already grinning.
āWhat?ā you whispered, though your cheeks were beginning to warm.
āHe started already.ā
You frowned. āStarted what?ā
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.
āOh my God,ā 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 wasnāt 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 linesā
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.
āOh, he is gone,ā Jermaine muttered from backstage.
āThis aināt even a concert anymore,ā Randy added dramatically. āWe watching date night live.ā
Janet laughed so hard beside you she nearly had tears in her eyes.
āOh, baby,ā she teased, nudging your shoulder gently. āThat man forgot thirty thousand people were here.ā
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.
āThere he is!ā Jermaine yelled dramatically.
āMr. Serenade Your Wife On Live Television,ā Randy added.
Michael blinked innocently, still breathless from performing. āWhat?ā
Janet gasped loudly. āOh, donāt do that.ā
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.
āYou are sick with love,ā Janet accused through laughter.
Michael tried and failed to hide his smile.
āI was performing the song,ā he defended weakly.
āTo your wife,ā Jermaine corrected instantly.
āFor like fifteen straight minutes,ā 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.
āOhhhhhh, she got him bad,ā Randy shouted.
Michael finally laughed, ducking his head while rubbing the back of his neck.
āY'all are annoying.ā
āNo,ā Janet corrected sweetly. āYouāre in love.ā
-------
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 CANāT 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 JACKSONāS 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.
āI mean, look at this man,ā she laughed. āHe was fighting for his life up there.ā
Another radio host joked:
āI donāt know about yāall, but we were interrupting married people business.ā
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.
āThis is your fault.ā
āMy fault?ā he repeated innocently.
āYes, your fault! You were staring at me the entire concert!ā
Michael bit back a smile behind his cup.
āYouāre my wife.ā
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.
āSo,ā she started carefully, āthe internet has spent the last twenty-four hours talking about your performance of Heaven Can Wait.ā
The audience immediately cheered.
Michael laughed softly, lowering his head.
āI mean,ā the interviewer continued with a grin, āyou spent almost the entire song looking directly at your wife.ā
The crowd screamed louder.
Michael rubbed beneath his nose shyly while smiling to himself.
āAnd fans are convinced,ā she added dramatically, āthat somewhere in the middle of that performance, Heaven Can Wait stopped being a concert song and became a love letter.ā
Michael laughed quietly again, visibly embarrassed by the audienceās reaction.
But he still smiled.
That soft, hopelessly in-love smile.
Then he glanced down for a moment before speaking.
āWhen you love somebody that muchā¦ā he started softly, āā¦every love song starts sounding like them.ā
The audience immediately erupted.
Michael only laughed shyly, ducking his head before continuing.
āItās hard not to think about her,ā he admitted quietly. āEven when Iām onstage.ā
The crowd practically melted.
āSheāsā¦ā Michael paused, smiling to himself. āSheās my favorite person. So when I sing songs like Heaven Can Waitā¦ā he laughed softly, āā¦I guess everybody can tell who Iām thinking about.ā
The audience screamed again.
The interviewer placed a hand over her heart dramatically.
āOh, that is amazing,ā she said through laughter.
Michael just smiled.
Small.
Warm.
Completely gone.
āSo you were singing to her?ā the interviewer teased.
Michael looked up this time, eyes softening instantly.
āI always am.ā
The audience absolutely lost their minds.
āAnd after all these years,ā the interviewer continued, still recovering, āyouāre still this in love with your wife?ā
Michael looked genuinely confused by the question.
āOf course,ā he answered simply.
The room quieted slightly at how sincere he sounded.
Michael smiled again, softer this time.
āI married her because I loved her,ā he said. āThat didnāt stop after the wedding
The audience started screaming again while Michael covered his face shyly.
But even then
He was still smiling.
āOh my God,ā she laughed. āSo you admit it?ā
Michael looked up finally, smiling shyly.
āI married her,ā he said simply. āOf course Iām still in love with her, and of course I'm gonna sing to her.ā
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.
ask and you shall receive!! i think the timing of this ask is funny bcs i was going to make some girldad!titus hcs after my pregnancy hcs anyway. i genuinely cannot imagine him as anything other than a girldad. Sorry this took so long to get to I started it and forgot it was in my drafts haha!
The moment he set eyes on his daughter, Titus Danforth was done for.Ā Those wide eyes, staring up at him with wonder and a small smile on her lips. Yea, he was a goner. He loved you more than he could put into words. But the fact that you gave him such a perfect bundle of happiness...you were a goddess to him.
Titus' father was never a steady presence in his life and his view on parenthood was skewed. You found Titus freaking out one night, pacing in his office and muttering to himself. "I just want to give her the world." he had said "I want to be there for her every moment of her life. I want her to like me." You had smiled when he said that, assuring him that of course she's going to like him. He shook his head, citing his own father's actions as proof that he didn't know how to do this. Raise an entire human being? Without following in the footsteps of Chester, demanding obedience no matter the cost? How? You took his hands in yours and pressed kisses to his knuckles. "You're a good man, Titus," You assured him "A little rough around the edges, sure. But deep down I know you can do it." Your faith in him sends a warm shock straight to his brain, and he touches his forehead to yours. If you trust him enough to be the father to your daughter, then maybe he can do this.
After that, he allowed himself to relax a bit. Trust his instincts. He didn't trust a nanny to be with his daughter. Hell no. The cleaning staff could help tidy the nursery, but the only people allowed to lay a finger on his little princess were you, him, and Ursula, when she decided that maybe children weren't so bad- she's such a fun aunt, buying fun outfits and babbling to baby about social drama. when your daughter gets older, she'll use this against Titus, feeding into the sibling rivalry. "But Aunt Ursula said she'd take me!" And that's how she gets her spring break in Mykonos with her friends.
Titus loves sitting outside with his daughter, sitting in the gazebo and listening to the birds. When she gets fussy at night and you need your rest, he'll take her outside for a midnight walk on the grounds until she falls asleep again. During their walks, he talks to her. Tells her stories about you. How much he loves you. How lucky she is to have you as her mommy.
Looooves looking after her at events bcs it means he doesnāt have to sit there. At a wedding, youāre forced to sit there politely and watch as you daughter toddles around the lawn while Titus follows her, hands in his pockets and watching her like a hawk.
Sure, giving the Danforths an heir was Titus' main purpose, it's what he's been old his entire life. But who knew it'd be so much fun? He loves hanging out with his daughter. As she grows and her personality begins to develop, Titus realizes he's just gained a new partner in crime. When your daughter sneaks into your room at night and gently taps him on the shoulder, telling Titus she wants ice cream, he's helping her sneak down to the kitchen. "Just don't tell mom." They have a bad habit of sharing this look. When they're at a social event and someone says something a little uncouth, they look at each other and give a little smirk. You have to pull them aside sometimes, telling them to knock it off and to be polite to your guests. But you're never really mad. You find it amusing. She really is a perfect mixture of the two of you.
Titus is a sucker for his daughter and she knows it. She knows exactly how to get to him. She'll force him to sit with her during her tea parties. If Titus is ever hesitant, she'll give her best "Please, dad?" and wet-eyed expression that works every single time. Before he knows it, his hands are on a table, black nail polish being sloppily applied to his fingers. One time, his assistant walked into his office while his daughter was painting his nails. His eyes snapped to him, fierce and warning. Do not interrupt his daddy-daughter time. His assistant cautiously reminds him that there's an appointment he has to make. "Sorry, I'm a bit busy right now. I don't care who it is, reschedule it." The assistant, red in the face, nods and dips out of the office. Titus turns his attention back to his daughter, inspecting her work. "You missed a spot."
When she hits high school, Titus is desperate for that hot gossip. He hates drama when he's involved, but hearing about other peoples' misfortunes? God, he's insufferable. When she comes home, slinging her school bag on the table, the first thing she does is sit on the couch and debrief Titus about her day. He'd sit there for hours if necessary. He knows all of her classmates by name. Sometimes, you'll walk into the living room and catch snippets of conversation. "And Janey said that the reason Teresa can't keep a boyfriend is because she got botched lip filler!" Titus gasped, a genuine sound of surprise. "She did NOT say that!"
I donāt even have to tell you what happens after her first heart break. Your daughter tries to call her ex, but it mysteriously goes to voicemail. Weird. You give a look to Titus when she tells you this but he feigns innocence. āGuess you donāt have to worry about it anymore.ā And he just smiles.
During her wedding hunt, if she decides to get married, AND if the spouse has made enough of a positive impression on Titus (doubtful, but with a bit of persuading from you and her. Maybe.), heāll be watching over that spouse like a hawk. Not killing them, but rather protecting them so they make it through the night. Le Bail be damned, he just wants his little girl to be happy.Ā
Warnings: swearing, paparazzi harassment, age gap discourse, media pressure, chaotic behavior, protective reader, fluff/humor
Tags: michael jackson x reader, black reader, protective reader, chaotic reader, funny reader, media trained michael, public relationship, paparazzi, interview gone wrong, crack treated seriously, fluff, series potential, 90s michael jackson
Taglist: @simply-lovley44 @cocomilaa @blcknebula
inspired by this post @callmeoncette
The flashing cameras almost blinded you the second the two of you stepped out of the black SUV.
āMichael! Michael over here!ā
āHow long have you two been together?ā
āMichael, is the relationship getting serious?ā
āY/N! Y/N!ā
Michaelās hand tightened around yours immediately, thumb rubbing softly against your skin in that quiet way he always did whenever crowds got overwhelming.
āYou okay?ā he murmured softly.
You looked over at him in disbelief.
āAm I okay? Baby, are you okay? They yellinā like zoo animals.ā
Michael physically had to bite back a smile.
āBabyā
āNo, because why are they barking at us?ā
The interview host standing near the carpet entrance laughed awkwardly before quickly straightening up when Michael looked over.
Michael lowered his head slightly, curls falling near his face as he tried to compose himself.
āCāmon,ā he whispered, gently guiding you forward.
The relationship had gone public barely three weeks ago, and the media had been losing their minds ever since.
Not because Michael Jackson had a girlfriend.
But because you were absolutely terrible at public relations.
You didnāt smile politely at rude questions.
You didnāt dodge disrespect.
And you definitely didnāt care about Hollywood etiquette.
Which explained why Michaelās publicist currently looked like she was five seconds away from cardiac arrest.
The interviewer smiled brightly as cameras zoomed in.
āItās wonderful to have you both here tonight.ā
āThank you,ā Michael answered sweetly.
You nodded. āAppreciate it.ā
The interviewer turned toward Michael first.
āSo Michael, your fans have been very curious about this relationship. Itās definitely surprised a lot of people.ā
Michael smiled politely. Calm. Practiced.
āWell, Iām very happy,ā he said gently. āSheās very special to me.ā
Then the interviewer looked at you.
āAnd whatās it like dating the biggest star in the world?ā
You shrugged.
āHe steals my food.ā
Michael looked scandalized.
āI do not steal your food.ā
āYes you do.ā
āI ask for it.ā
āYou ask after itās already halfway gone micheal.ā
The interviewer laughed softly.
Michael covered part of his face, already embarrassed.
Then the interviewer made the mistake.
āSoā¦ā she started carefully, āthereās obviously been conversation online about your age and maturity level compared to Michaelās. Some people think you may not fully understand the pressure that comes with being with someone like him.ā
Michaelās smile dropped instantly.
You felt his hand squeeze yours once.
Warning, begging even...
Please donāt.
āUh,ā Michael started softly, āI donāt really think...ā
āAnd some critics,ā the interviewer continued, āhave questioned whether youāre prepared for this kind of public relationship.ā
Michael inhaled slowly.
āBaby,ā he whispered under his breath.
Too late.
You blinked at the woman.
āWhat kinda stupid-ass question is that?ā
The entire audience and crew went silent.
Michael froze beside you.
The interviewer stared.
Cameras zoomed in on you so fast it was almost violent.
You frowned.
āNo seriously. How are you qualified to have this job if thatās what you ask people?ā
ābabyā Michael whispered, horrified.
āIām serious,ā you continued. āYāall get paid to be weird and disrespectful on television and then act shocked when somebody says something back.ā
The interviewer looked absolutely stunned.
āWell, I...ā
āAnd another thing,ā you cut in. āEvery interview this man does, somebody feels comfortable disrespecting him as long as they smile while doing it.ā
Michael looked down at the floor, shoulders already shaking slightly.
āYou ask rude questions, pry into his personal life, make slick comments, then try to hide behind professionalism when people call it out. Itās weird.ā
The interviewer opened and closed her mouth for a second.
āAnd now suddenly Iām immature because Iām not sitting here pretending that question wasnāt rude?ā
āBaby,ā Michael mumbled weakly, āyou canāt say that on television.ā
āYes I can.ā
āNo you canāt.ā
āYes I can and I will.ā
āAnd honestly,ā you continued, āhalf the interviews he does feel less like interviews and more like yāall trying to see how uncomfortable you can make him before he reacts.ā
Michael physically turned away now, trying to hide the fact that he was laughing.
The interviewer awkwardly cleared her throat.
āS-So Michaelā¦ about the question I asked earlier...ā
āWhat she said,ā Michael answered immediately.
The interviewer stared at him in disbelief.
Michael finally looked back over at you with the brightest grin youād seen all night.
--------
By the time the two of you finally made it inside the venue, the tension from the interview had completely shifted.
Mostly because Michael could not stop laughing.
āYou embarrassed me,ā he whispered as the two of you walked through the hallway toward the backstage area.
You looked at him incredulously.
āI embarrassed you?ā
āYes,ā he said immediately, still smiling. āYou attacked that poor woman.ā
āShe attacked you first.ā
Michael shook his head, curls bouncing slightly.
āYou called her stupid on live television.ā
āI said the question was stupid.ā
āThat is not better.ā
You crossed your arms dramatically.
āWell maybe she should stop asking dumb questions then.ā
Michael tried to stay serious for about three seconds before another laugh escaped him.
āThere you go again,ā he mumbled.
āOh, donāt do that,ā you said, pointing at him. āDonāt act so pleased with me now after sitting there acting all shocked.ā
āI was shocked!ā
āYou were laughing!ā
āI was trying not to!ā
You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously.
āYou liked it.ā
Michael immediately looked away.
Which told you everything.
Your mouth dropped open.
āOh my God, you DID like it.ā
āI did not say that.ā
āYou didnāt have to.ā
Michael covered part of his face with one hand, already smiling again.
āYou shouldāve seen your publicistās face,ā you continued. āThat lady looked like she was about to pass out.ā
āShe probably was.ā
āWell maybe next time theyāll stop asking you weird questions.ā
Michael slowed down slightly then.
The teasing expression on his face softened into something else, something softer.
Something genuine.
āYou really donāt like when people disrespect me, huh?ā
You looked at him like the answer shouldāve been obvious.
content warnings: 18+!!!! Gets quite smutty, fluffy, jack abbot invented YEARNING, age gap!!!, no use of Y/N
notes: i know this one sounds kinda depressing but i promise its fun and funny and flirty and itās my favorite one ive ever written!! also debating on making an ao3 account - should i?
ĖĖĀ°ā¢*āā·
Jack Abbot was unfortunately intimately familiar with the 5 Stages of Grief. Depression, Bargaining, Anger, Denial, Acceptance.
He grieved his leg at the ripe age of 31 - courtesy of an IED in the desert of Afghanistan.
He began grieving his late wife the following year at 32 - courtesy of an arrogant, misogynistic emergency medicine resident.
At 33, he grieved the life he thought he was going to have while he started a new one. No longer a husband, but a widow. No longer an army medic, but an Emergency Room attending at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center.
Sometimes when he would come back to the empty home he bought at 34, the ghosts of that life were louder than any silence he thought he could drown out with the police scanner.
Jack Abbot knew the 5 Stages of Grief like the back of his hand.
In hindsight, he didnāt know how he didn't realize the 5 stages in which he fell in love with her were quite similar. A mirror of his grief refracted through a lens of unconditional love.
depression
If someone would have asked Jack at the time, he wouldn't have admitted he was depressed. He truly didn't think he was.
He didn't need therapy to deal with his trauma. His wife passed away a decade ago. His leg, or lack thereof, the constant reminder of the time he gave up while he had her on this earth - was physically healed. As much as it was going to be anyways. So therefore he was mentally healed. As much as he thought he was going to ever be anyways.
He'd been running on autopilot. It carried him from but mostly to the emergency room at PTMC. It's what made him stop at the unfamiliar sight of Gloria in his ED. This is why he didn't work the day shift. He never wanted to deal with all of the bureaucratic administrative bullshit. The only business Jack Abbot was ever interested in was the one of saving lives. Gloria hadn't even opened her mouth and Jack already knew that Robby was going to owe him one.
"Dr Abbot! Wonderful timing. I have a residency interview waiting in Robby's office for you."
Now Robby really owed him one. "Doesn't Robby usually..." Jack scratched at the back of his neck, still confused as to why Gloria had involved herself, and now him, in a residency interview, "...facilitate those?"
Gloria gave a curt nod before glancing around them, as if checking to make sure they would not be overheard. She lowered her voice as she spoke, "Yes but I specifically scheduled this one when I knew you were covering. She is the best candidate we have ever had and probably ever will. I cannot risk Robby running her off."
Right. The Adamson of it all. There was a joke in there somewhere about Jack being considered the stable one in the ED. He guessed he must be. He had become fairly good at presenting an even keeled, calm front. He still had kind of felt like a mess in every other area of his life but the ED was the one place he was the furthest from one. It's where he solved the mess instead of becoming it.
She shoved a printed resume into Jack's hands before she was off. Back up to her ivory tower. He took a look as he strode over to Robby's office. Full ride to Stanford for both her undergraduate and medical degree.
For once, he agreed with Gloria. What the hell did this candidate want to do with PTMC?
He asked her as much as he sat across the desk from her, brow furrowed in genuine curiosity. Residency interviews usually went one of two ways. The candidate was either far too cocky or so nervous they barely got a complete sentence out.
She struck the balance. She was confident. More so than some of his residents who had been out on the floor. She wore a dark gray wool sweater and maxi skirt set. The monochrome was only cut by the deep maroon of her belt, tights, heels, and purse. Her long hair was slicked back into a simple pony tail and her makeup was minimal, if any.
It wasn't the typical look of a medical student on a residency interview. Still completely appropriate, but far less stuffy and much more self assured.
Jack wouldn't know good style if it had slapped him in the face but he did know what hers revealed to him about herself. It was the kind of style that someone who knew who they were had. Who had spent time getting to know what they liked. Whether it was what they were reading, listening to, watching, or doing. Her style wasnāt an afterthought but she carried it with a quiet confidence that let everyone know she was not overcompensating for anything either.
It was a demeanor and style that was derivative of having a life outside of medicine - which was quite uncommon for medical students and residents alike. It was completely foreign to Jack. It intrigued him. She intrigued him.
Her body language was relaxed but respectful. One leg crossed over the other as she leaned back into the wooden chair that was probably older than she was, hands clasped in her lap. Jack doubted her heart rate had reached over 65 the whole time she had been in there.
She took a beat to answer his question which also intrigued Jack. She was not rushing to answer just to fill space. She seemed to be comfortable with the time silence gave her to craft intentional responses. Why PTMC?
A ghost of a smile that looked like it might be haunted by one appeared on her face, "My family is here."
"That's it?"
"Do you want the practiced professional answer that every other interviewer has gotten or do you want the real one?"
Jack bit back a grin at her bluntness. Ignored the stirring in his stomach that made him feel special that she may share something about herself with him that she hadn't with anyone else. He tells himself to Get. A. Grip.
"I am sure the absolute best residencies in the country are foaming at the mouth to land you and you want to come here because of your family? Give me the real reason." He let his smirk slip through as he crossed his arms over his broad chest, "I'm a captive audience after all."
The airy laugh that he got out of her almost knocked him out of his seat. What was wrong with him? He had a feeling she didn't just hand out a laugh as ethereal as that one. That she was not the kind of woman who just giggled because it was the part of the conversation where she'd been socialized to appease the man speaking that he was funny. She seemed far too smart for that. For probably everyone in the building. For him, especially.
"I have already been away in California for eight years. I could have fifty years left with my dad and my brothers and my sister in laws and my nieces and nephews or they could be gone next week," she uncrossed and recrossed her legs before continuing. Didn't rush before speaking again, "I don't want to build an unguaranteed future alone and then have no one to share it with when I get there. I wanna spend time with them now."
Jack's adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes burned as he fought to hold back tears. It must be some kind of cruel joke that right then his phantom limb pain wanted to shoot up through his thigh. Like a reminder of the time he spent wasting while he had his wife alive.
He had joined the army to become a doctor debt free. Then he had spent all of their marriage overseas, saving money for a life they never even got to spend together. He had borrowed time from the future that didn't even exist. And all he had to show for it was ironically - more money - monthly life insurance, disability, and veteran affairs checks. Oh and one and a half legs.
He blinked rapidly. He was not about to cry at work. Nevertheless while he was conducting a residency interview. He diverted the conversation away from himself, "You didn't mention your mom."
"She died. When I was a teenager, about ten years ago. After coming here actually," She coughed out a dry laugh that sounded like she dragged it up through her throat, kicking and screaming. Awfully different to the one Jack had floated out of her moments prior, "She was pregnant and they sent her away without so much as a full consultation. Just chalked her symptoms up to pregnancy and she died from an aortic dissection later that night."
Jack wanted to vomit at the almost exact recountance of how his wife had died. He was so focused on not emptying his breakfast onto Robby's desk that a tear slipped - the first in probably years.
"Oh, Dr Abbot. I didn't mean to make you emotional. I can go back to the professional answer any time you want." Another scoffed laugh, her eyes full of compassion but no tears, "Trust me - it's probably easier for both of us."
Jack really never talked about his late wife anymore. He liked to tell himself he was healed. He most definitely didn't talk about it at work. But he found himself wanting to then - with her, "No it's just - my late wife - she died the same way, about a decade ago. I was away on a stupid bachelor party trip and she didn't want to worry me so she didn't call me about it and then she, uh, never called again."
"Jesus - I am so sorry, Dr Abbot."
He noticed, appreciated, the way her head didn't tip and her eye contact didn't waver. She was not expressing her condolences out of pity or not understanding but of exactly the opposite. She knew exactly how he felt. He ignored the way his heart jumped out of his chest at the thought.
God, Robby really owed him one.
"Thank you - I am sorry about your mom. I am just impressed you still wanna work here. I could never work in the hospital that did that to my wife. The couple years after she passed - I could barely work here."
"Well, the other option was becoming one of those weirdos who swears off doctors and hospitals and science."
Jack tilted his chin at her in consideration, rubbed at the scruff there, and let out a sputtering laugh, "Are you sure that is the only other option?"
He pulled another light chuckle from her and he exhaled. Truly exhaled. For the first time in maybe ten years - like he had been underwater for so long he had forgotten what fresh air felt like.
"This is my way of letting her live on through me. To do something about what happened to her rather than using it as an excuse to sulk through life. I wanna see life as something that comes from me and not at me."
She picked at the lining of her purse that was perched in her lap. The first sign of potentially any nerves. The first time he realized that he was getting the true her. Not the front she must put up for interviews. It didn't seem much different - just a little more vulnerable.
Jack could talk. So much so he had a reputation for it in the ED. He was no stranger to being on the receiving end of a 'God do you ever shutup?' so he was a bit stunned that she had managed to shock him into silence.
He hugged his crossed arms closer to his chest as if that was even possible and just stared.
She cracked a smile, back to what was seemingly her calm and confident self, "Too esoteric for a residency interview?"
"Oh no. Not at all. I just..." Jack couldn't seem to find the right words to tell her that she had just reframed his entire outlook on his life and his grief in one sentence so he settled on, "...I uh never really thought of it that way."
"Me neither. But I have an excellent therapist."
"I will have you know, if you choose to do your residency here, I do not make it a habit of trauma dumping on my residents like I did on you today."
"I think I started that, Dr Abbot. But since I made you cry - does that mean I am in?"
That earned a genuine cackle out of Jack. A cackle. A kind of sound he wasn't even sure he was capable of making anymore but the bright, beaming smile she reciprocated made him want to do it for the rest of his life.
Maybe he owed Robby one.
Jack tried not to think about her as he got the old laptop down from his hallway closet later that night. He may never even see her again. He ignored the fact that that thought made him sick to his stomach.
Tried not to think about how Gloria had never ever personally been the residency candidate welcome committee until today while he googled 'Veteran, disabled, widower therapists near me'.
He tried not to think about how she looked the best anyone has ever looked in that emergency department as he murmured to himself, "God, that's a depressing search."
He tried not to think about how she had the most beautifully intriguing brain of anyone who had ever stepped foot into that hospital, potentially his entire life, as he booked his very first therapy appointment.
bargaining
"Remember when you told me you didn't make it a habit of trauma dumping on your residents?"
Jack didn't even have to look at her to know there was a huge smirk plastered on her face. She had been his resident for a little over a year. Although, it had taken much less time for the ribbing to start.
"Telling you about how Shen won't stop calling me 'Unc'," Jack had put air quotes around the Gen Z slang term as he continued, "is not trauma dumping."
"You seem pretty traumatized by it. You've only brought it up 85 times this shift."
"And to think - I was gonna ask you to a research breakfast after this." Jack nudged his shoulder gently with hers, tried his best to stave off the grin that played on his lips.
"And to think! You're going to anyway, old man." She nudged him right back, a little less gentle causing him to turn his shoulders and gaze towards her, feigning shock and offense.
That got the exact reaction he was fishing for - a big bright smile, loud laugh, and a second or so more of eye contact that he wouldn't have had a reason to justify otherwise.
What can he say? When it came to her - he was greedy.
"You two! I would prefer to get the hand off completed before you're both back on shift tonight. I swear you're like young and dumb medical students after shift sometimes." Dana chastised them but not without a hint of a smile.
Dana had known Jack for over ten years at this point. Seen him in a lot of different moods; but never as happy as this.
"Well, I'm young." She emphasized the 'I' with a smirk and pointed the finger that she had aimed at herself over at Jack, "He is just being dumb."
Jack barked a laugh. A sound that was no longer so foreign to him. No longer so foreign to everyone else in the ED.
He didn't miss the knowing glance Dana shot his way, a grin fighting to appear on both of their faces. He did his best to give Dana a look that said that he wasn't hopelessly infatuated with his resident. That he enjoyed spending time with each of his residents equally. He was not entirely sure he convinced Dana. He wasn't even good at convincing himself.
He could take her to breakfast if it was to help her with her research. It was most definitely not to see how many times he could pull a laugh from her. Bonus points if he got a nose scrunch or an accidental spit take of the orange juice that was already half way down her throat.
He could bring her a coffee every shift if it was to ensure his best resident was energized for her shift. It was not because of the way she looked up at him with her bright, big eyes through her lashes and said "Thank you, Dr Abbot!" like it was some sort of melody. If he started buying coffee for Dr Ellis and Dr Shen as well to make his affection less obvious - what was the difference?
He could let her do a pericardiocentesis way before anyone else her year probably should have if it was to improve her education. And because she truly was ready. He'd have bet his entire career that she was better at it than all of the surgical residents upstairs. Which meant it wasn't so totally obvious that he was staring at her in awe all of the time. Because when she was doing shit like that - everyone was. Being able to guide her hands through a procedure was just a bonus. Even if there were latex gloves between them.
He could bring extra food to shift, knowing she was going to eat half of it, if it was because he wanted to ensure his best resident was properly fueled and empowered to do her job to the best of her ability. He kept it to himself that he drove to a grocery store thirty minutes out of his way to get the specific kind of candy he knew she liked.
He could drive her home if it was to ensure his smartest resident got home safe. It was totally not because he got to spend more time with her. He definitely didn't take the long way to her apartment and he went exactly the speed limit because that was what was safe. Not because it meant extra time with her. No one else needed to know that he went at least fifteen over when she wasn't in his passenger seat.
No one also needed to know that he bought an aux cord just for her because he loved to hear what kinds of songs she liked. He definitely didn't have a playlist compiled of them all that he listened to at home now instead of his police scanner.
denial
She had been his resident for a bit over two years now and the ED was Q word tonight. No one had said it but the combined time they had all spent fucking around at the Hub proved it.
Shen was on his fifth tiktok trend of the night. He thought he was being inconspicuous in the amount of time he had been spending with Javadi but his new found interest in the social media app gave him away. Jack couldn't really say anything to his new junior attending about the dangers of falling for someone that you were the superior to without blowing up his own soft spot for a certain resident.
So Shen was on his fifth tiktok trend of the night and he had roped her in.
Jack thought he knew all of her secret talents by now but he watched from behind her, amused and hands tugging at his stethoscope looped behind his neck, as Shen played various Britney Spears songs to see how quickly she could guess them.
She hadn't needed more than 3 seconds for any of them.
Then they were busy for an hour or so. A couple drunk twenty somethings with some concussions and laceration repairs - nothing too crazy. And then they were back at central. The quiet was interrupted by a gasp from Dr Shen. Which was quickly followed by Dr Ellis looking over his shoulder at his phone and then both of them dying laughing.
"I don't even want to know." Jack threw his hands up in surrender.
"Oh, yes you do! You're going viral for being hot!" Shen exclaimed.
"I don't know what viral means if itās not to do with an infection and I already know that Iām hot thank you very much." Jack didn't even glance up from his charting as he spoke.
āFor being hot and being hopelessly in love.ā Ellis clarified.
That got Jack's attention. He got up, snatched Shen's phone out of his hand as he muttered, āI am not hopelessly -" he didn't even want to give the accusation a real denial to validate it, "-let me see that.ā He pressed play.
It was ironic that he had been telling himself he needed to start schooling his expressions when it came to her when the same dopey smile and enamored eyes he had going in the video were on his face as he watched the video.
He knew Shen and Ellis were monitoring his reaction closely but he couldn't help but let out a laugh at the part of the video where he had guessed the song 'Lucky' before she had.
She had whipped around in the spinning chair so fast - her hair had stuck to her glossed lips, "How the hell do you know that?!" she asked surprised, a wide smile taking over her face.
Jack shuffled around in his wide stance, large hands going from the ends of his stethoscope to clasped behind his back, his chin tilted up at her as he spoke with a drawl, "I let you play your music when I drive you home, donāt I?ā
In the moment, Jack had missed what was caught on camera - the knowing smirk Dr Ellis had leveled at Dr Shen off camera as she said, āOh, Iām sure you do.ā
Jack's rebuttal hadn't even had a chance to leave his mouth before Shen and Ellis were reading the comments aloud, taking turns as they went.
"WHOOOO DAT IN THE BACK!?"
"Paging Doctor biceps in the back"
"Close enough. Welcome back Lexie grey and mark sloan"
"What in the greys anatomy"
"Do the two doctor sexys know that age gap august is upon us"
"If she doesnāt wanna bite on his biceps I will"
"Does that girl know she has 45mins to claim that man before I do"
"He does not play about her!"
"A man who YEARNS is a man who EARNS"
"Dr sexy is down bad for the other doctor sexy"
"Where is this emergency room at ā¦ for research purposes"
"I want Doctor sexy to look at me like that"
"Okay, I donāt look at her like anything!" Jack hissed low in a whisper, hoping to a god he did not believe in that she was still busy with the drunk college kids and was not hearing any of this.
"Well, you definitely donāt look at me like that." Shen laughed, sucking on his Dunkin straw even though nothing had been left in his cup for hours.
"I look at you all the same." Jack deadpanned. He sat back down at his computer. An attempt to get back to charting. But not before taking a sweep of the ED and making sure she was nowhere within earshot. Not that Shen and Ellis were making it easy with their hysterics.
"Bro - if you looked at me like that I would call HR. She's just into it."
āInto what?" She asked monotonically, not even looking up from her iPad as she approached the rest of the night shift crew at the hub.
āNothing!ā Jack barely got out, grumbling and exasperatedly running a hand through his silver curls as he got up from his computer and went to chairs.
He didn't miss the raise in her brows as she looked at Shen and Ellis, silently asking 'What the hell is up with him?'.
He couldn't tell you the last time he voluntarily went out to chairs but he was hoping his fair Irish skin would be finished betraying him with the pinkness in his cheeks, ears, and neck by the time he made his way back to central.
He knew it was only a matter of time before Shen and Ellis showed her the video and he did not want to be there when they did.
So he missed the flush in her cheeks, ears, and neck that had been identical to his.
And her slightly embarrassed, definitely exaggerated, "You guys stop - he is literally our boss."
"But you're not not into it?" Ellis had pushed. If anyone was getting it out of her, it was Ellis. They had been attached at the hip since their residency began.
"It doesn't matter if I'm into it. He is our boss! He is not into it."
"God, for someone so smart you are so stupid sometimes."
Jack had waved Shen off when Shen had come out to chairs to tell him about that interaction, practically vibrating with excitement. Or maybe that was the caffeine. Jack had parroted her, tried to make a joke of it all. Said something along the lines of, "I know you guys like to pretend otherwise but I am your boss."
But once Jack was home, black out shades drawn and snug in his bed, he couldn't wipe the huge, stupid grin off of his face.
anger
Jack was not an angry man. Never had been. Very few things on this earth made him genuinely angry - one of them being the annual hospital gala. Every year they were trotted out as show ponies to raise money that the ED would never even see. You can't save patients with empty compliments and an open bar.
He had managed to avoid it the past couple years - always worked instead. So when he saw he wasn't scheduled to work the night of this year's gala, he printed out the schedule and marched right over to Robby's workstation to rectify what was surely a mistake.
"Why am I not scheduled to work tomorrow? I didn't even check the schedule until now because I just assumed that my friend would do me a solid because he owes me one-"
"-Because you have to go to the gala, man." Robby interrupted Jack's rambling.
"What part of 'you owe me one' did you not understand?"
"Did you happen to see who else is not scheduled?"
Neither of them had to say anything for them both to know who's name Jack was scanning that piece of paper for.
Robby clapped him on the back, satisfied with a smile on his face as he walked away, "Go home and rest, Romeo. You got a big date tomorrow night - youāre welcome!"
ĖĖĀ°ā¢*āā·
So again, Jack was not an angry man. Never had been. But he had decided to add a new line item to the short list of things that made his blood absolutely boil. The thing being every single young, conventionally attractive, rich, tall surgeon working in his hospital hitting on his resident at this stupid fucking gala.
They hadn't even made it to dinner yet and he was sure she'd been approached over ten times. Jack had to step away after the most recent one - under the guise of getting a drink.
Jack unfortunately was very familiar with this particular suitor of hers. She was well into her last year of her residency and it had not been an uncommon occurrence for Dr Harvard from cardio thoracic surgery to make any and every excuse to come down and consult when she was on shift.
Jack made a conscious effort to forget his name. Shen and Ellis loved to remind him of it.
They'd tease him about it. They'd say that there was a plus side to it all. They never had to wait long on a cardiac surgery consultation anymore. But selfishly, Jack would wait fucking years if it meant he was chatting her ear off instead of Mr Harvard.
Jack wasn't naive. She was practically glowing. She always was. She always looked beautiful. Before tonight, he basically only ever saw her with no makeup on, hair a mess, wearing hospital issued scrubs and he still thought she was the most gorgeous person alive.
But tonight. Tonight, Jack was surprised he did not end up as a patient in his ED the first moment he had laid eyes on her. Her hair was carefully curled, framing her perfect face that was painted with just the right amount of makeup. Her lashes were more prominent than usual, her cheeks more flushed and her lips a bit more pink and a lot more glossy.
And then her dress. That damn dress. It was vintage because of course it was. Of course, she found time to vintage shop on top of the grueling hours she put in at the ED. Even in her last year of residency, she had never lost sight of being her own person both in and outside of work.
The dress reminded Jack of something from the prohibition era - celebratory. He was trying not to be so obvious in his celebration of how the structured seams of the powder blue silk created a corset shape that wasn't too tight for a work function but definitely was tight enough to have his imagination wandering.
With delicate lace panels towards the bottom of her dress and the swooping off the shoulder neckline with draped cap sleeves - Jack was being a sap but she looked like she had stepped out of a romance movie. Or off of a runway.
It was the kind of dress that reminded him of when they first met. He loved getting glimpses of her like this. Of who she was outside of the ED.
She had said she found the dress at a second hand shop on consignment. After that he had spent most of their evening dreaming about what it would be like to hold her hand and watch her shop.
Get to see the process of how she selected what she liked. Get to bring her hand up to his lips and kiss it - knowing that he was one of those things that she liked. Maybe even loved. And of course, buy everything her gaze lingered on even when she insisted not to. Especially then.
So Jack was not naive. He knew she was absolutely, positively stunning. He knew even beyond that - she was kind and funny and fucking whip smart. Smarter than anyone he had ever met and in so many different ways. If he could move into her brain - he would. So he was not naive enough to think other men wouldn't flirt with her. They would be fools not to. He just wished he could be the reason they wouldn't.
He sipped his old fashioned and did his best to pretend like he was looking anywhere but at her and Mr Harvard. He can't imagine that he was very successful. A ding from his phone took him out of his misery.
From Shen: Yo - i know you hate that gala shit. Kinda bogus robby made you go. Thought you guys were friends. Anyway, can you come help? Ellis has got a hot date. Or so she says
Jack had never been more thankful to receive a weird text from Shen in his life. He replied with a quick 'On my way' before taking one last glance over at her.
He sighed at the sight of her digging through her purse for something. He couldnāt see her expression but he sure could see Mr Harvard's. Dude couldnāt wipe the grin off of his face. Jack wished he could do it for him.
Okay chill, he reminded himself. As much as he wanted to, he figured it would be rude to interrupt her to say goodbye. She probably didnāt want her old attending cock blocking her anyways.
Jack set his half finished drink on the bar counter along with a $20 tip and turned on his good heel. He had his hands on the cold metal of the event venue's door when he heard his favorite voice behind him.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?"
Jack turned to see her and the sight made him melt. Arms crossed over her chest, brow furrowed, and lips in a stern line that was slowly slipping into a pout.
"Shen and Ellis need a cover."
"And when were you planning on telling me?" Her hands moved to her hips. Jack's hands flexed at his sides. All he wanted to do was kiss the sass out of her. But he couldn't. She was still his resident. And probably not even interested in him.
"You seemed busy. We havenāt even eaten dinner yet." Jack's response earned an eye roll out of her.
Before he could even blink, her arm threaded under his own - grabbing his bicep, "I'm coming with you."
Who was Jack to argue with that?
"How'd you get out of your conversation with Mr Harvard?"
Another dramatic eye roll. He loved it. Then the prettiest little smile he had ever seen.
"Told him my mean, scary boss said we had to leave."
He couldn't decide his opinion regarding the short walk to his SUV in handicapped parking. One part of him was thankful. He wouldn't be shocked if he had burnt holes in his suit jacket from the way his skin had heated up under her feather light touch. The blush was sure to creep up into his cheeks any moment now.
On the other hand, he could walk for miles if it meant she was touching him the whole way. She stopped at his passenger car door and turned to look at him.
"Mean, scary boss huh?" was all Jack could get out while he was under her gaze. It sounded like he had dragged his words through gravel on their way out. But with the way her eyes still shone in the moonlight and the fact that they were solely trained on his own - he was lucky he managed to get any words out at all.
"The scariest." she winked. She fucking winked. Jack had never been more thankful that he had metal for a leg because if he didn't - his legs were sure to have wobbled out from beneath him right then.
His hands were stuffed into his slack pockets. He didn't trust himself for them to be anywhere else. Her hands had given him a moment of reprieve. No longer lightly squeezing his bicep. But now they trailed up his chest, stopping to pretend to fix his tie even though Jack knew it was perfect. Military habit. Didn't matter - she could do whatever the hell she wanted if it involved touching him.
His breath hitched at her touch. He hoped she didn't notice.
"He cleans up nice though - makes up for all the mean and scary."
"Did your mean, scary boss mention you look beautiful tonight." Jack kept his hands in his pockets but took an experimental step forward. Was this really happening? Was she really hitting on him?
It was almost as if she had heard his inner monologue. Wanted to make her intentions clear as she looped her arms around Jack's neck and absentmindedly threaded her fingers through the curls at the nape there.
Ever since she had started fiddling with his suit, her eyes had dropped to anywhere but his face. Typical Jack would have dipped his head, forced eye contact but Jack right now was just trying to stand up right.
Her gaze snapped to him and this time he hadn't even tried to hide the palpitation in his heart or his breathing, "No." was all she said. Barely a whisper but Jack heard her loud and clear.
His hands immediately fell to her hips. He filed away the way she seemed to sink into his grip. Exhaled a little. Like it was muscle memory from a past life.
Her fingers circled their way higher up onto his head, fully tugging on his curls and lightly scratching at his scalp. Jack had to bite back a groan as he squeezed at her hips and pressed her fully back onto his unopened car door.
"Jack." She murmured out low somewhere between a moan and an airy breath, head tilted back in pleasure at the pressure of his fingers on her hips. Jack was fucked now that he knew what his name sounded like falling off her lips without inhibition.
The expanse of her neck now available to him was like a siren song. The past four years had felt like a siren song and he couldn't help himself any longer. One of his hands found the back of her head, gently cradling it back up for her to look at him. His other hand rubbed at her jaw in sweeping strokes of his thumb.
Neither of them could rip their gaze from the others' lips - their panting chests just a mere centimeter apart. He was finally going to do it. He was finally going to kiss her.
Until he wasn't.
Until a loud bang of the door opening broke them apart. A slew of hospital administrators spilled out behind it looking for their next smoke break. Had Jack mentioned that he fucking hated the annual hospital gala?
They flew off each other at what would have been a rather impressive speed if it hadn't felt so agonizing. What was Jack thinking? That he could make out with his resident against his car like they were a horny teenage couple while all of the people in the building a few feet away from them could have her fired for it in a heartbeat? He had to be better. At least until her residency was over with.
He had to get it together - for the both of them it seemed like. Jack cleared his throat and ran a hand over his stubble to hide the smile threatening to take over his face at the realization that she had wanted to kiss him. The way she had said his name with so much...want. Need, even. Maybe this thing wasn't so one sided after all.
He got out of his own head just in time to stop her closing of the passenger door. He wrapped his hand around the top of the door, held it open and waited for her to look up at him after she had buckled up. But the buckle clicked and her gaze stayed trained on her lap.
"Hey." He whispered softly. They both knew the eye contact he was seeking. She slowly turned her head in his direction, gazing up at where he was standing in front of her.
"You look absolutely breathtaking. You always do."
She sucked in a breath and then there she was - big bright smile, shoulders no longer slumped, no more fiddling with her purse strings just to avoid the space between them. She was back to herself.
"Just for that I'll order pizza to the hospital." His favorite.
"Thank you." He probably should have shut the door by now. Should have probably already been on their way to the hospital. But he couldn't stop fucking staring at her. What's new?
"Don't thank me. I still have your card in my DoorDash account." She giggled and all Jack could get out was good before he shut her door.
ĖĖĀ°ā¢*āā·
They ate their pizza in their gown and tux at the hub with Ellis and Shen.
Ellis raised the polaroid camera that Dana kept at the hub desk and signaled for them to get together for a photo. Jack hooked two fingers under her rolling stool and tugged her over into his side.
"Woah! Old man still has moves!"
Jack ignored Shen as he wrapped his arm over her collarbone from behind her, pulling her closer. Her head instinctively leaned toward his and her fingers delicately held his wrist as they smiled for Ellis's camera.
Jack didn't miss the look Ellis had given her. Maybe he was delusional or maybe she had gotten her best friend Ellis's advice on making a move on her attending at the gala and now Ellis was checking in on the results.
Jack also didn't miss the way her cheeks heated up and the subtle shake of her head at Ellis. As if to signal that they would talk about it later. Probably, when Jack was out of earshot.
Shen tried to get them to pose like they were going to prom. When they both refused citing unprofessionalism, Shen threw a bit of a hissy fit. Mumbling something along the lines of "Oh, now we are being professional!"
Ellis settled on writing āGala Girlies' as the caption for their polaroid before taping it onto the hub counter with the rest of the pictures that had accumulated over the years. This one was definitely Jack's new favorite.
He knew exactly what Robby was going to say when he saw it tomorrow morning, āYou owe me one, brother."
He was so fucked.
acceptance
Jack was bored. He never thought he'd say that but this hospital without her was straight up boring with a capital B. He worked here without her for ten years and now - the ten days of PTO she had taken before her first day as a junior attending - felt like the longest of his life. And he was only on day 6.
He wasn't even supposed to be there right now. He had come in after a Tactical EMS job gone bad. His buddy had already gone up to surgery. Before Jack could leave, Robby had roped Jack into joining him on the new day shift attending, Dr Al-Hashimi's, welcome tour.
He was waiting on a text from her. She was spending the day with her family and then she and Jack were supposed to go watch the fireworks together - alone. It was the Fourth of July after all. He had it all planned. He had practiced how he was going to profess his feelings to her in the mirror like a dork more times than he cared to admit. He had long accepted that he was in love with his resident. Now his colleague. He could work with that.
He checked his phone again. No luck. He ignored Robby's inquisitive glance. Jack had never been so interested in his phone like he had been today.
They stood at the hub as Robby droned on and on about day shift procedures that Jack was so thankful not to have to know too much about. Jack just admired the polaroids on the desk in front of them. He was still plotting a way to inconspicuously steal the one of him and her from the gala for his wallet but it had become a fan favorite in the past few months.
Dr Al-Hashimi directed her next question to Jack, pulling him out of his thoughts. She held up his second favorite polaroid with a raised brow, "Am I going to have the pleasure of meeting..." Dr Al-Hashimi squinted to read the writing below the picture, "...Abbot's Angels?"
Jack couldn't help but laugh. The photo had been taken over a year ago. Shen had begged him to take it. Handed the camera over to Jack as he maneuvered himself between the two girls. Both her and Ellis's backs to Shen. All three of them holding up finger guns to their lips with faux serious expressions.
As if her ears were ringing, Dr Ellis appeared behind Jack at the hub. Clapping him on the shoulder and extending a hand out to greet Dr Al-Hashimi, "Don't bring it up to him. He is going through withdrawals because his favorite is still out on PTO."
"Parker - I do not have favorites. You guys aren't even my residents anymore." Jack muttered in defense as he checked his phone again.
Dr Al-Hashimi clocked him, "Dr Abbot - I am good to go here and I am sure I will be seeing you. You should go. It's your day off and a holiday. I am sure you have plans."
"Yeah, what are your plans, Dr Abbot?" Ellis teased. She must have known her best friend's plans were with him for the night. Ellis was enjoying herself. Jack shot her a glare.
"I think his plans just showed up!" Robby clapped his hands together, sputtered out a laugh at the coincidence.
"Brother - I am not taking another case! I am leav-" Jack looked up from unscrewing his water bottle to follow Robby's gaze.
He spotted her mid sip and he genuinely choked on his water in a way he thought only happened in cartoons. He was ready to send Ellis out to chairs when she patted his back like she was burping a baby and suggested that there was a cooling room in North 5 if he needed it.
She was simply glowing. Wavy hair, bright eyes, sun kissed skin donning a short jean skirt and a white halter tank top that accentuated the tan lines over her collarbones left by her bikini.
"Well if it isnāt the prodigal princess of the pitt herself!" Robby goaded, grabbing a clip board and rounding the hub.
The man she was pushing in the wheelchair piped up at that, "You guys actually call her that? Seriously? I thought she was making that up. Please stop - her ego is big enough as it is."
"What do you got?" Robby asked. Jack was still staring. Who the fuck was this guy?
"Idiot male. 37 years old. Broke his ankle trying to relive his glory days coaching youth soccer practice," She was leaned over, pushing the wheelchair with all her might, "and could stand to lose a few pounds."
That pulls an almost relieved huff from Jack. Whoever this guy was - she must've not been that fond of him.
"Hey -" the man reached behind him and tugged on her hair "-my arms still work!"
Oh hell no, Jack thought. Ellis must have noticed he was about to step in and she stopped him before he could, "At ease, soldier. That is her brother."
"Well your brain clearly doesn't" she whacked him right upside the head.
Her brother imitated her, high pitched while she made a show of dramatically handing over his wheelchair to Robby so he could take him away for X-rays.
She thanked Robby as she made her way over to the hub, introducing herself to Dr Al-Hashimi and grabbing the bag of candy that Jack was offering out to her.
She looked him up and down and nodded her head at his camouflage pants, "Really? What is with the GI Jack get up? I thought you were gonna get a hobby.ā
"And I thought you said you were gonna stop stealing my food."
"And I thought you said you were gonna stop buying t-shirts one size too small."
"From Walmart." Dr Ellis added.
"You guys, I told you - I do not shop at Walmart."
She giggled and gently nudged her shoulder into Ellis's, "Oh yeah Parker, how could we forget? He shops at Costco!"
"They send good coupons in the mail!" Jack defended himself
"Bro - you're a disabled, widowed veteran who makes more than half a million dollars a year. I think you can afford real clothes." Ellis deadpanned.
āAny other comments from the fashion police about my outfit?ā
āDonāt threaten us with a good time.ā
Jack cocked his head towards her, smirk widening. He couldn't hide how happy he was to see her. It had been a long couple of days, "And to think I was just starting to miss you."
"Just starting to!?" She raised her eyebrows in challenge, feigning offense while her eyes practically sparkled up at him. He could feel the weight of Ellis's knowing smile on them. He didn't care.
He was debating how obvious it would be for him to pull her into a hug until Dana beat him to it.
"Dr Al, you have just met one of our finest," Dana squeezed her harder, "Except you probably won't see her much because Abbot is always hogging her on nights."
She was released from Dana's grip just enough to clap a light hand on Jack's shoulder, giving him a squeeze, "He needs someone to keep him sharp in his old age."
Jack grimaced the second her hand had made contact with his shoulder and dread washed over her face. Dana fully released her now. Letting her turn all of her attention onto Jack.
āJackā¦ā
āIām fine.ā He avoided her probing stare and that was exactly how she knew he was not fine.
āReally?ā She asked - not buying what he was selling.
āYes!" She applied light pressure on his shoulder again and he wriggled out of her grasp with a sharp and hissed, "- ah!ā
āThe room right there is open. Go patch him up.ā Dana pointed to the room across the hall. Shooing them in there before Jack had a chance to protest.
Jack sat on the bed as she shut the door and pulled the curtain. Her back was still turned to him as she said, "Take off your shirt."
"At least let me take you to dinner first." Jack tried to pull a laugh from her. It didn't go over well.
"Jack." She warned. Now turned toward him with her arms crossed, āWhat happened?ā
āI was intubating in open fire and a bullet grazed my vest. Iām fine.ā He shrugged as he pulled off his shirt. As if what he just said was a completely normal and frequent occurrence.
āYou were shot!?ā She hurried over to him, standing in between his legs as he sat on the bed.
āShotā¦at."
She tilted her head at him in annoyance. Pausing her opening of the various utensils she was preparing to clean his wound.
āWhat?ā He asked.
āCanāt you just take up tennis or golf or literally anything else? Like a normal person?ā
āWhat fun would that be?ā Jack insisted upon keeping it light. She shouldn't ever have to worry about him. That was his job.
She lathered some kind of ointment onto his open wound that was on the front of his chest, right above his collar bone. Jack was too distracted by how close they were to care and see what kind.
āThere is nothing fun about me coming to work one day and finding out youāre dead because you wanted an adrenaline rush.ā
āThat isnāt gonna happen.ā
āYou donāt know that. You think youāre invincible and youāre not.ā
āIs that an old joke?ā
āJack-ā her voice cracked and Jack was immediately on his feet, cupping her face in his hands.
āWoah, woah honey okay - I thought we were kidding. Iām fine.ā He cooed, one hand stroked her cheek bone making sure not one tear fell while the other steadied her at her hip as she stood between his legs.
āLook at me." He tilted his chin down while he tilted hers up, holding her gaze with his own, "Iām fine. And Iām not going anywhere."
āI wonāt survive you dying, Jack. I can't.ā Her voice sounded wrecked as her chin wobbled. Jack felt horribly responsible. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Naturally, like they had been in this position a million times before. He murmured into the side of her hair, āOkay forget the SWAT thing. Although, you shouldāve seen me earlier in my full uniform I looked pretty sickā
Jack huffed a sigh of relief as he felt her laugh vibrate through him. He pulled her back with his hands on her shoulders to get another good look at her, "There's my girl."
She wiped a sniffle with the back of her hand and lightly pushed him back down to a seat. His hands never left her. Just slid down her body until he rested them on the outsides of her upper thighs - a safe distance away from the hem of her jean skirt.
She worked in silence for a moment until Jack piped back up, āIāll pick up tennis or golf like a normal person. I promise.ā
āYou donāt have to do that, Jack. I just want you to have a little more regard for your life okay? Can you please just do that for me?ā
āI canāt think of anything I wouldnāt do for you.ā Jack didn't even think that was an exaggeration.
āExcept for wearing the correct size shirt.ā
He teasingly pinched her leg and she swatted at his good shoulder, laughing. She was done helping him but they hadn't moved. Neither of them really wanted to.
āThatās for you too. Donāt think I donāt see you staring at my biceps.ā
Her eyebrows rose in faux surprise as she dragged a hand down his freckled arm.
āOh you wanna talk about staring? I must have picked that up from someone.ā
āThis is a teaching hospital.ā
āCouldāve mistaken it for a staring one.ā
āCome on - youāre always performing medical miracles while looking like that. I canāt help it. Cut a guy some slack.ā Jack's hands felt like they were on fire, practically kneading her thighs. God, she really had to wear this skirt today of all days.
āYouāre a flirt, you know that?ā
āOnly with you.ā
They had about a second to jump apart at the sound of a knock on the door before the curtain was pulled back to reveal Dr Al-Hashimi.
Jack rubbed at the back of his neck. Both him and her were looking anywhere but each other. Jack wasn't planning on getting excited but he was thankful he had placed his shirt over his lap to cover himself now that they were no longer alone.
Dr Al-Hashimi cleared her throat, obviously picking up on the fact that she had interrupted something, "Sorry to uh, interrupt. But my number, Dr Abbot. Like we discussed. For that date.ā
Dr Al-Hashimi handed Jack a piece of paper and then turned to her, "You have a visitor from cardio thoracic surgery outside."
Jack groaned. Could Mr Harvard have any worse timing? She shot Jack a glare and stepped outside. Jack could see the shadow of Mr Harvard who he knew was down here pretending he'd have something to do with her brother's ankle surgery just to flirt.
He caught the end of her dismissing Mr Harvard's valiant attempt at being her knight in shining armor. Jack smiled to himself as he made his way back to the hub to catch up with her. He was explaining a procedure to Whitaker as he walked, "You're gonna have to start with your finger. And then slowly over a few minutes as the wetness gathers, go deeper. All the way to the back of the knuckle."
Whitaker nodded in understanding and was on his merry way. She turned right on Jack the second he was in her vicinity.
"What the hell is your problem?!"
"Problem?" Jack asked, genuinely perplexed.
Her voice pitched down, she whispered, "Why do you have to say everything so unnecessarily slutty? You wanna ask Whitaker out too!?"
Now that - Jack was not expecting. He quirked his eyebrow up in surprise. Also in confusion.
"Ask Whitaker out? What are you-"
He was cut off by a little girl screaming her name and running right into her arms, "Look! Look! Your work is on my new soccer jersey!"
The girl couldn't be older than five. Jack recognized the little girl as her niece from photos she had shown him. He noticed who must have been her sister in law a few feet away, talking to Robby presumably about discharge instructions for her brother as he awaited surgery that he would probably have next week once the swelling went down.
"What are you talking about? Lemme see that." She plucked the jersey from her niece and examined the PTMC logo on it.
Jack knew his cheeks were ruby red. He could see the gears in her head putting it all together as she stared at the small jersey with the ironed on PTMC ED patch. A couple weeks ago, she had told him offhandedly that her niece's soccer league was going to get cancelled since they had no sponsor. So Jack called up the park district and paid for it himself. Under the guise it was the PTMC ED. It was no big deal. If her niece was happy, she was happy.
She put her niece down next to her on the ground as her eyes looked up to Jack, softening, "We don't have the budget for this."
"I know. But I do."
She opened her mouth to say something but her niece cut her off, climbing into her dad's lap on his wheelchair as he, her sister in law, and Robby joined them at the hub, "Auntie, is this Dr Sexy?"
Jack's lips immediatley preened, quirking up into an amused smirk, Dr Ellis and Robby doubled over in laughter.
"No baby - this is Dr Abbot." She tried to recover, her eyes blown wide, mouth agape and her cheeks beet red. She couldn't even look at Jack.
"But you always call him Dr Sexy when you are talking to mommy. What does sexy mean?"
"OKAY-" she said loudly, still looking anywhere but at Jack. She turned her gaze on her brother as she clapped her hands together, "-it is time for you all to leave."
"Only if Dr Sexy walks us out." Her brother teased.
She groaned, putting her head in her hands as Jack wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She hid in the crook of his neck, "I am getting a new job."
"Oh no you're not."
ĖĖĀ°ā¢*āā·
Jack met her at her car after he helped her family to theirs. āDr Sexy, huh?ā
āShut up. I'm trying to be annoyed with you and youāre making it damn hardā
āWhy are you annoyed with me?ā Jack steadied himself with a wide stance, crossed his arms over his chest as she turned to look at him, leaning against her car door.
āSeriously?"
Jack just raised his eyebrows back at her in question.
She mirrored his stance, crossed arms over chest, "So you go on dates now?ā
āWhat are you talking about? Is this about tonight? If you don't want to go anymore we don't have to-ā
She imitated him and Dr Al-Hashimi from earlier, "Sorry to uh, interrupt. But my number, Dr Abbot. Like we discussed. For that date.ā She emphasized the word.
Jack rubbed his hand over his face, stopping at his scruff and trying to mask the smirk that was threatening to take over his face, āAre youā¦jealous?ā
She scoffed, trying to sound nonchalant but Jack knew her too well for that, āMe? Jealous? No, Jack I just think itās wildly inappropriate. This is our workplace.ā
āWell thatās a damn shame because I didnāt ask Dr Al on a date. Iām setting her up on one. With my army buddy actually."
Her lips formed a barely there oh, "Wellā¦now I just feel like a bitch."
Jack laughed and stepped closer, shaking his head in refute to her statement. He let his hands find purchase on her car, caging her in.
His voice came out far more groveled than expected, "But Iāve been wanting to ask you on a date for going on, oh I donāt know almost five years now, but if you thinks itās so wildly inappropri-"
āI donāt!ā
āYou dont? But I thought-ā
He earned himself an eyeroll and a stern, āJack.ā
āYou just said-" He couldn't help the huge grin spreading across his face.
āI know what I said.ā
āSo - let me get this straight - itās only wildly inappropriate if itās a date with anyone but you? Is that stated somewhere in the HR handbook or-ā
"God, do you ever shutup?" And then her lips were on his.
His whole body felt like it was on fire. Her hands on each side of his face, his squeezing at her hips and pressing her up against the car. Just like that night at the gala. Except this time he actually got to kiss her. He was kissing her.
His head spun at the way her fingers circled around to the nape of his neck, tugging at his curls. He cradled her jaw in one strong hand and grabbed her waist with the other, hand pushing up the white tank she had on to make contact with her bare skin. They couldn't possible get any closer but it still didn't feel close enough.
Jack didn't want to ever stop the exploration of his hands along her body. He grabbed at the flesh on the outside of her upper thigh, hiking it up slightly around his hips. She ground herself down onto his bulge and the gasp she let out was heavenly. Jack took the chance to swipe his tongue into her mouth, as she ground down again, slower this time. Jack couldn't keep his moan from tumbling out.
He pulled back ever so slightly, their lips still practically touching as their chests heaved, "Baby, where are your keys?"
"My keys? That is what you care about right now?" She went to grind on him again but Jack's hands grabbed her hips, halting her.
"If you keep doing that I am going to come in my pants in the hospital parking garage and I would much rather come somewhere else in the comfort of my own home. I've been thinking about this for a long time. I want to take my time with you."
"How long?" She asked as she slipped her keys into Jack's front pocket.
"Inappropriatley long. Now get in the car so Dr Sexy can drive us home."
"I am never gonna live that down, am I?"
"Absolutely not."
"I hate you."
Jack grabbed her chin and peppered her face with kisses, ending with one on her lips as she giggled. Kissing her hard because he could do that now, "Somehow, I am not convinced."
ĖĖĀ°ā¢*āā·
Jack's left hand flexed hard on her steering wheel. His right hand preoccupied with a steady grip on her upper thigh. Her left hand played with his curls as he drove.
"What are you thinking about?"
"How after the gala last year I went home and touched myself. Imagined my fingers were yours." Jack choked on nothing at her words.
"Jesus Christ - I am trying not to cause a mass casualty event, honey. Can you please just wait till we get home."
She groaned his name in frustration and squeezed his fingers between her thighs, trying to find friction anyway she could.
"You're that needy?"
"Yes, Jack."
"Show me then." His voice was gritty and low as he knocked her knees apart. He batted down the sun visor on her side, sliding the mirror cover up and aiming it perfectly to reflect her lap.
She whined at the loss of contact as both of his hands now gripped the steering wheel. Her eyes screwed shut and her chest lifted, breathing heavy. The way her hard nipples were peaking through her tank top was enough to make Jack scared he was going to crash the car.
"Show me how you touch yourself when you think about me. You think you can handle that for me, baby?"
His words seemed to hit her all at once. Demanding in the way it was when he was ordering people around the ED. The tone went straight to her core as she hiked her jean skirt up over her hips and slid her small lacy black thong down her legs. She stuffed it in one of the pockets of Jack's camo pants, lightly squeezing his bulge as she did. All Jack could murmur out was a hissed fuck as she angled her center to the mirror above her, giving him a perfect view of her absolutely soaked core.
"I asked you a question."
"Yes, yes I can handle it. I promise." She rushed her words out in one run on sentence, out of breath as her chest heaved.
"Good girl, baby. Show me how you touch yourself."
She nodded as she began to rub her clit, her voice shakey as she spoke, "I start like this and I think about everything you said to me that day. When you tell me good job after a prodecure or how you order everyone around or how-"
A tumbled moan falls from her lips, cutting herself off.
"Do you play with these pretty tits?" Jack reached over and gripped the nape of her neck, tugging at the string of her halter top and letting it fall. He pulled it down, her tits spilling out as he tweaked a nipple, kneading it after with his palm.
He thought she squeaked out a soft uh huh with a nod that trailed into a moan as her right hand slipped two fingers into her center. The sound was obscene as she pushed in and out, her head falling back and her chest pushing forward into Jack's hand.
"Jack!" She was getting louder now, the pace of her fingers moving quicker. The tone of her voice filled with unabashed need.
"What else, baby?"
All she could do was babble in response. Jack's hand fell from her nipples to her pussy, giving it a slap before grabbing her chin and forcing her to look at herself in the mirror, "Do you see how pretty your pussy is? What was that you said earlier? That I say everything so slutty? Look who's the slut now."
They both saw the way her pussy contracted around her two fingers at his words. The way her already dripping core somehow managed to get even more wet at the filth he was spilling.
"Oh you like when I am a little mean, don't you?"
She could barely nod, her chest hitting her chin as her breathing became more rapid the closer she inched towards her finish line.
"You wanna come for me?"
"Please." She panted. Jack smirked to himself as he grabbed her wrist, pulled her hand from her center before she could even think about finishing, and pressed her fingers into his mouth - licking them clean.
Her head lolled against the seat, she groaned his name. A mix of frustration and want as she dazedly stared at him.
"I've waited almost five years to taste you, honey. You can wait five more minutes till we are home, yeah?"
She huffed out an, "I hate you."
"Somehow, I am not convinced." He chuckled as he placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand.
ĖĖĀ°ā¢*āā·
Jack held her hand gently as he tugged her into his house. She was practically bouncing on her heels behind him. "I'm gonna shower first and then-"
"Like hell you are." She snipped. Now she was pulling him. Through his foyer and straight to his couch where she perched herself on his lap, bracketing his hips with her thighs and grinding down on his bulge that was dying to spring out of his pants.
He pushed her skirt back up her hips and rubbed her upper thighs as she rocked her bare pussy down on him, her hands steadying herself on his neck as she leaned into press her mouth to his.
Jack's chest was heaving, "Baby, I'm all sweaty and gross from TEMS."
"I couldn't care less, Jack. You might be patient enough to wait five years but I sure as hell am not. Please touch me."
"Like this?" His fingers rubbed her clit, her head falling back in relief at him finally touching her where she needed him most.
"God, you were dripping all over your car and now you're soaking my couch? Who's got you so worked up?" She gasped as Jack entered two thick fingers in her, kissing up her neck as he did. Nipping at her jaw line as he pulled her tank top down so he could swirl his mouth around one of her sensitive nipples.
She pulled his shirt off over his head, flashing him a mischevious smirk before, "Dr Harvard from cardiac surgery."
Jack's fingers stopped immediatley. She whined and writhed in his lap at the loss of contact. Jack wrapped his other hand around her neck, squeezing slightly, "I thought you were gonna be good for me?"
"I will, I will. I am." She begged. Jack didn't know what he did in a past life to get her begging like this in his lap but he was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Atta girl." He cooed, adding a third finger and plunging back into her tight core, "I am gonna ask you again - what's got you so worked up?"
"You, Jack! Your voice and your arms and your curls and these stupid fucking pants."
"Oh my girl likes my uniform, yeah? Is that what had you so bratty today? Want me to fuck you in it?"
"Please." she huffed. Sweat beading at the top of her forehead as she began to rock her hips, riding his fingers.
"Come for me first."
"Yeah, thats it." Jack hissed, trying hard not to imagine what it would feel like to have his cock where his fingers were. That would surely lead to an early curtain call, "That's it. My good girl."
"Fuck, Jack" She let out a shakey laugh as she came down from her orgasm, riding it out on Jack's fingers as she threaded her fingers in his hair.
"The uniform really does it for you, huh?"
She kissed him hard, "You do it for me. The uniform is just a bonus."
Jack readjusted her in his lap, pushing her legs open further over the expanse of his thick thighs. She whined at the stretch, "Come here, baby. you're doing so good for me. Wanna take my time with you."
"You can take your time with me later. I need you to fuck me now."
"Yeah? That needy, huh?"
"Yes, Jack please." She murmured as she undid the belt on his camo pants.
"You're the boss." Jack winked. He may have been her boss at work. She may have liked him bossing her around in bed. But she was the boss in every other sense of the word.
"Funny."
"Glad you think so." Jack hissed as she wrapped her hand around his hard length, preening with pre cum at the tip. She pushed his pants and his boxers down in one go, his erection immediatley slapping up against his stomach.
Jack's head fell back onto the couch as he let out a moan, her fingers rubbing the precum from his tip down his shaft and back up again. She spit into her hand and repeated the same movement. Jack thought he might come right then and there.
"Wanna ride you, please. I'm clean and on birth control. Need to feel you."
Jack couldnāt even get words out. He was too busy trying not to come from a handjob like a horned up teenager, "Same. Mm clean, too" He managed to get out, eyes fluttering shut as another wave of pleasure wracked his body, "Fuck, baby."
She sunk down on him in an instant, relishing the stretch and sending them both into a fit of whimpered moans. Jack used one hand on her hip to guide her motions, the other rubbing up and down her back, eventually landing in her hair as he tugged her forward into a blistering kiss. Now that he knew what her lips felt like he was never gonna go long without kissing them.
"Fuck!" She rocked down hard on him again, "You feel fucking phenomenal. So tight, So. Perfect." He emphasized his praise with kisses, "Taking me so well. Like you were fucking made for me."
He took the hand from her hair and placed it on her clit, rubbing it as she started to rock quicker. He could tell she was close again. He was in danger of spilling over at any second, "You have no business being so good at this. Fuck, I'm not gonna last long baby. Fuck, look at you." Jack brought the hand from her hip up to her mouth, pushing his thumb into her mouth, moaning as she immediatley began to suck on it.
"All these years. Had a feeling you'd get off on praise. Knew you'd wanna be so good for me. Knew you'd be such a good slut just for me, yeah?"
"Yeah, please. Just for you, I promise." Jack didn't know how he had managed to keep himself from finishing with the way she was riding him. She steadied herself on his shoulders, brought herself all the way up and then slowly rocked herself back down, taking all of him and making sure he felt every fucking inch of her velvety walls.
"If you keep doing that I am not gonna last long." He managed to grunt out.
"Then don't. Come in me, please. Want you to fill me up."
Those words alone did it for Jack as he spilled his warm release into her, continuing to rub her clit. "Give me another one baby. I know you can do it. You can do anything. You're fucking brilliant. Your brilliant fucking brain. C'mon, I feel you clenching. Let go. Come on my cock, please."
She tugged hard on his hair, mixing her own release with his as she came. Panting into Jack's mouth as he whispered, "Good girl."
Jack cradled her cheek as she rode out her orgasm on his cock, whispering praise as she did. He swiped two fingers through the mix of their arousals and brought them to her mouth.
Jacks eyes watched, mesmerized, blown out with arousal as she sucked on his fingers, released them with a pop and then, "The second I saw you in that uniform I wanted to drop to my knees in the middle of the hub and suck the soul out of you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck, laying her bare chest over his and nuzzling into his neck, peppering kisses there as he scratched her back. His laugh vibrated through her, "Jesus Christ - you can't say shit like that when I'm still inside of you."
ĖĖĀ°ā¢*āā·
He eventually gently cleaned her up. Once she agreed to finally get off of him. He had to bribe her with kisses. He didn't mind one bit. He dragged her to the shower which lead to him having to clean her up again. Again, he didn't mind one bit.
He was at the stove now. Donning only a pair of gray sweatpants as he cooked dinner and watched her pad around his kitchen in only his tshirt and some basketball shorts with probably the dopiest smile of all time on his face.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, tucking herself into his side. He used his free hand to wrap his arm around her shoulders and tugged her closer, pressing kisses into her hair. She behaved for a moment until he felt a pair of soft lips pressing kisses across the side of his chest that was accessible to her.
He turned the burner down, dropped the spoon he had been using to stir the pasta on the counter and then grabbed her hips, trapping her against his kitchen island, "You're going to make me burn dinner."
She put her finger to her lips, pretended to think about what he had to say and then with a quick kiss to his lips she muttered against them, "Mmmm, don't care!"
He dug into his pocket, unlocked his phone and put it in her hands, "Put on music. It is already hooked up to the speaker system,"
He picked her up by her hips, causing the cutest squeal he had ever heard, and plopped her down onto his counter. He rubbed a gentle thumb against her cheek, the other against her hip as he stood between her legs, "You need to eat, baby."
She grumbled a fine. She knew when it came to taking care of her - Jack would not budge. She scrolled through his Spotify - she wanted to find something both of them would like but first she was gonna stalk what he already listened to. Of course her curiosity was gonna get the better of her.
A quiet gasp fell from her lips - causing Jack to look over from his spot in front of the stove, "What?"
She turned his phone screen to him, already spotting the flush creeping up on his chest. He recognized the playlist almost immediatley. Made up of all the songs she had played while he drove her home these past couple years - simply titled with her name. There was hundreds of songs on there.
"Did you make this? Do you listen to it?"
Jack figured now was as good a time as ever to lay out all his cards onto the table. Even if he was so embarrassed he couldn't even look up from the dinner he was cooking. He spoke fast, "Would you be entirely creeped out if I told you I replaced the police scanner with it?"
"Would you be entirely creeped out if I told you I am so beyond in love with you?"
Jack's head snapped up from the dinner. He'd never moved so quickly in his life. He was back to standing in between her legs, holding her face - just staring at her with a huge smile. The same expression was being mirrored back to him. It made his heart soar.
"You do? I mean, you are?"
She laughed, "Where have you been the past couple years?ā
"Waiting for you to realize that I've been hopelessly in love with you."
"Are we the dumbest smart people alive?"
"Potentially. But doesn't matter. Nothing matters. Only you. Only us." He kissed her now. Slotted his lips over hers like the perfect final piece of a puzzle. His stomach fluttered at the sensation of her fingers finding their home in his curls. He couldn't believe that this was real. That she loved him. He already knew that the astronomical amount he loved her was very, very real.
"God, I love you." Kiss, "So much." Another kiss.
"Say it again." Jack whispered against her lips, smiling like a little kid.
"I love you, Jack."
He pulled back just a bit. Just enough to murmur how much he loved her and get a good look at her face, "Remember when you were so jealous earlier?" He teased.
"I was not-" She began to deny it but Jack leveled a look at her, "I hate you!" she giggled, swatting at his shoulder that was not bandaged up.
"Somehow, I am not convinced." He preened.
"Mmmm, good." She was kissing him again. He could do this forever. He will do this forever - if he has anything to say about it.
The ding of her phone was what made him pull away. But not by much. They both looked at the cause of the disruption, Jack planting kisses up and down her neck, jaw, and chest as she unlocked her phone.
From Robby: Doing scheduling. Can you pick up a shift next Tuesday night please? Shen needs off. You'll get to see your doctor sexyš¤Ŗ
They both let out a cackle. Jack took her phone and took a selfie with his middle finger up. He sent it to Robby along with a message that read, 'Stop texting my girlfriend.'
"Girlfriend, huh?"
Jack rubbed up and down her thighs as he spoke, "Figured you might think I was insane if I said wife after just one day but trust me that is part of the plan."
"What else is in the plan?ā
āMaybe a kid or two? Or four? Or zero. Really as many or as little as youāll give me. Iām just happy to be here.ā
She chuckled, kissed him while lovingly stroking his face, āI like that plan.ā
āYeah?ā He asked, brimming with hope.
She nodded as her phone went off again, a message from Robby flashing across the screen. Jack kissed each of her cheeks, her forehead, and then her lips before reading it out loud - sending them both into a fit of giggles.
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With DXVK and S3SS living their high days, older Sims 3 installment guides are rapidly starting to become outdated. So here's a brand new and up-to-date step-by-step guide to go through when you do a fresh install of your game that will help you get the best performance you could possibly imagine for this old and laggy gem of a game.
Have Sims 3 installed, but is it performing abhorrently? I highly recommend a fresh install. You don't have to delete your saves or mods. Just get yourself a fresh bin to work with by uninstalling, going into your program files The Sims 3 folder and deleting any remnant files still in there. Then follow my guide!
All of the steps to follow are below the line ->
Step 1: install your game through your respected platform.
Just follow the regular steps and install the game without adding any other stuff yet whatsoever.
(I personally have a legit copy of the Sims 3 on Steam. If you use another app and have any questions, I'll probably not be able to help you.)
Step 2: run the game once through the official launcher. Once you get to the main menu, you can quit again.
It is very important you run your game through the original launcher at least once after installing it. Not doing so can cause problems with programs like CC magic. You only need to do it the first time. After that, we'll be skipping the launcher entirely.
Step 3: Create a short cut of TS3W.exe on your desktop.
You'll be skipping the launcher from now on. This helps with performance and it starts up your game much faster. It is also important to do this because of DXVK.
You can find TS3W.exe in your bin folder. For me (Steam version) it's in this location:
C:\Program Files (x86)\Steam\steamapps\common\The Sims 3\Game\Bin
Right click TS3W.exe, click 'show more options' and choose 'create a shortcut'. Place this shortcut on your desktop and Run Sims 3 from there from now on.
Step 4: Run the GPU Add-on Support patcher
You can find this patcher here. It is essential to run this because Sims will otherwise not recognize your graphics card unless it's over 10 years old. This patcher helps to get your GPU recognized.
The patcher will create a new Graphicsrules.sgr and new Graphicscards.sgr for you in your bin folder. After installing this, you can move the ones that have _old behind them somewhere else (or delete them).
P.S.: if you pirate your game you'll have to do this manually, there's guides online for it but since I have a legit copy I can't help you here.
Step 5: Install DXVK
Make sure you follow this guide by Nornite and do every single step. Don't skip anything!
I'd say DXVK is pretty essential nowadays, especially if you have a modern graphics card with 6GB of VRAM or higher. It'll greatly help to keep your game stable and can prevent a lot of crashes. The way Dxvk works, is that it loads textures through your VRAM instead of your RAM. Especially when you use a lot of CC or HD textures, this will make a huge difference for your RAM usage. Sims 3 can only use 4GB of RAM at once and will start crashing once you hit the 3GB mark in your task manager. With DXVK, you will use a lot less RAM and it'll take much longer for your game to reach this hard cap.
When not to install DXVK: if you have a shitty GPU (like an integrated graphics card on a laptop, or one with 4GB of VRAM or less).
Step 5: Start up the game
Use your new desktop shortcut that also has 'run as administrator' permissions now if you followed the DXVK guide properly.
Step 6: set up all your settings through the ingame options menu
The best graphics settings for you will highly depend on what computer you're using. But there are some things you should always turn off because they negatively affect performance. I will share my (relevant) settings with you (I use a custom UI so your screen style will look a little different from mine). Click on the images to enlarge them so you can read them:
Things of note about these settings:
I recommend you play in windowed mode, especially if you plan to use ReShade. Playing fullscreen is possible, but it does make Reshade presets behave differently in your game. I will include a step in this guide that you can follow to play windowed borderless. So, when you plan to do this: make sure you set the resolution to your display resolution.
Enable object hiding helps with performance. Advanced rendering is essential because otherwise your game looks like absolute shit.
Set your High Detail Lots to any value between 2 and 4. Don't go lower or higher, because you'll get rendering issues that lag out your game.
All other graphics settings can be set to your heart's desire. I'd say start with the highest settings and only go down if you notice your frames per second are bad.
Disable shop mode and lessons and fully disable memories or use this mod to severly limit them. Disable interactive loading screens as well. These are all performance eaters. Interactive loading screen also causes crashes. Memories also don't do anything for your sim, it's just a scrap book with no in-game effects.
Disable any online mode feature. This also lags out your game. Unless you really want to use these features it's best to just play fully offline.
Save your settings, close the game again.
Step 7: Install Sims 3 Settings Setter
This is the most recent magic genie that Sims 3 was blessed with. Especially combined with DXVK it is a life changer. Installing it is simple. You download the most recent version here and drop the .asi file in your bin. Also grab 'wininet.dll' from here and drop that one in your bin too.
Start up your game and load up a save. Once you're inside your save, you press 'insert' to open up the menu for Sims 3 Settings Setter. Go to the 'patches' tab and enable what you like. These are my enabled patches and they all work really well for me, but feel free to experiment with them to find your own performance sweet spot:
Only enable uncompressed textures if you have a GPU with at least 8gb of VRAM. My game will use over 6gb of VRAM easily with this enabled, so you've been warned.
Once you have everything you desire enabled, press 'file' in the top left corner and click 'save settings'.
Step 7.5: if you're playing windowed mode: go into the Other/QoL tab and enable 'Borderless Window'. Set it to 'Full Screen'.
Save your settings and close your game again. No need to save the game you entered for this unless you want to.
Step 8: Install Nraas Errortrap, MasterController and Overwatch
These 3 mods by Nraas are pretty much essential to keep your game from breaking down in the long run. You can download the mods here. Have you never installed a mod for Sims 3 before? Here's a guide (skip the part about Sims3pack and go straight to the part where it explains how to install .package mods).
That's it! You can now play The Sims 3 and it'll be as smooth and stable as it'll ever be. From here on, you can stock your game with more mods and CC (check out my mods masterlist!), or you can install Reshade (here's a guide).
Some important things to keep in mind while playing:
Clean up your game regularly. You can easily do this by using Regul Save Cleaner.
When you install a new mod or update/change Sims 3 Settings Setter, always restart and clear your caches.
Use CC Magic for installing CC, because it merges your files and this really helps with performance. Here's a handy guide on how to use it. Don't put your script mods in here, just your CC.
If you plan to travel to vacation destinations in the EP World Adventures, Nraas Traveler is a must to prevent most of the bugs and crashes that happen in this expansion.
Always keep in mind: mods and corrupt CC can still break your game, make it laggy or unplayable. Always be mindful of the mods you add, so you can always trace any issues you're having back to the mod causing it. I highly recommend not downloading a ton of mods in one session, but adding them step by step and see what they do to your games performance.
Use 'Reset the entire town' from Nraas MasterController at least every other sim week. It'll help clear up any lag that happens because of NPC sims getting themselves stuck routing or annoying stuff like that.
Got a slow CAS? Use Nraas MasterController Compact mode! (Make sure you have the Nraas MasterController Integration module installed).
Navigate to NRaas > MasterController > Settings > CAS.
Set the following to True:
Show in Compact Form: Accessories
Show in Compact Form: Clothing
Show in Compact Form: Hats
heyy!!! you there!!! I made an AO3 skin!!! made isn't the right word, I snatched the code from smarter people and messed with it. but if you like it, the code is here!
