𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓵𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮🪽

1975 - Encino, California

“where do you wanna go, Joker?” Bill asked as he seated himself behind the wheel.

“just drive around, Bill. I wanna take in the scenery today. it’s beautiful outside, look!” Michael turned his head to stare out the window in admiration. his gaze fixated on the sky and trees in a dream-like daze.

Bill chuckled and started the car. he knew how much Michael liked feeling the atmosphere outside. he knew how much he loved nature in general. Michael’s always had a whimsical view of the beautiful things in life.

pulling out of the driveway, you could hear the screams of fans from a distance behind the tall-standing gates. Michael flashed a smile and politely waved at the crowd as security tried shooing people out of the way.

once they were on their path to their late evening drive, Michael placed a stack of mail on his lap and began to go through each of the pieces carefully, giving every letter the same amount of undivided attention. he loved going through his mail. each message increased his gratitude more and more.

Michael had his own routine following this as well. he’d write back to them, expressing love ten times harder than the actual fan in appreciation for the support. that’s just how Michael was. he considered his fans ‘family’.

♫

about an hour or so had passed and it was already getting late. Michael had read through most of his stack. he figured he’d just continue on the next day.

while placing the stack back on the seat next to his, one of the letters fell from underneath. instinctively, Michael picked it up and was about to put it back where it was, but became intrigued by the different formatted envelope addressed to him.

it was a light yellow packaging, but it didn’t look like the typical yellow envelopes you receive. this shade looked identical to a banana pudding color. the lettering was unique and nicely put together, almost looking like calligraphy. to top it all off, a sunflower sticker was placed on the corner, which made him smile. drawn to the letter, he leaned back into his seat and opened the last letter of the night.

it read: Dear Michael,

you’ll probably never get this letter, Michael.

I wrote you a hundred times before.

knowing how I feel, I’ll write a hundred more.

puzzled, he put the paper down. he honestly started feeling a bit bad for not recognizing the fan’s attempts to contact him sooner. how come he’s never seen these before?

he rummaged through the rest of the letters in hopes of finding at least one more from the same person, but nothing was found.

that night, he looked at the letter for a final time before going to bed. he laid the letter on his nightstand and turned off his lamp. not even a second later, his eyes opened and stared at the ceiling in wonder. could he maybe be able to retrieve any of the past letters that he’s missed?

♬

the following morning, Michael informed staff who managed his fan mail about a specific name and address to look out for. he wanted to hear more from this person before replying.

not only that, but he even dug through past mail sacks to find old letters that the person was referring to. luckily enough, he found a few! unfortunately he couldn’t find all of them in the piles of thousands of postcards. he spent the rest of his morning and afternoon juggling between replying to other fans and work while also reading one letter from the supposed usual sender at a time.

“look Michael, your fans love you!” La Toya exclaimed happily as she looked over the mountains of envelopes. she scooted closer to him to skim over the letter he was currently on.

Michael laughed along and handed her the note. “they’re not my fans, they’re part of my family.” he turned his head to scan the filled room, then he sighed. his eyes went back to the note and pointed at it.

“I want you to read that.” she mumbled an “alright” and began to read. after about a minute, she gave it back with a small giggle. “that’s very kind.”

Michael rolled his eyes playfully and giggled along, taking the letter back. “yeah, I haven’t replied yet.”

“well I didn’t expect you to, you just opened it!”

“Toy, that was from two months ago. they’ve been sending me letters this whole time and I’ve just been sitting here not noticing them.” he stressed. she could tell that he was feeling some type of way about that and probably imagining how the person must feel.

~1970~

the rhythmic tinkling of the doorbell rang through the house as y/n dropped the blocks in her hand, her head shooting up, alert like a puppy.

“mama, door!” she called out, hearing her mother dust off her hands in the kitchen, a few pans clattering before she wiped her hands on her apron, walking past y/n to open it.

all the houses along the street were small, only one story and painted the same, striking white colour.

y/n paid no mind to whoever was at the door, continuing her block sorting, pushing the star-shaped one into the star-shaped hole.

“i’m katherine, i noticed you moved in next to us, i thought i’d bring over some fresh cookies for you,”

“thank you so much, you didn’t have to,”

“it’s nothin’ big, don’t worry! is it just you here?”

“just me and my daughter. y/n darling, come say ‘hi’!”

at the sound of her name, y/n looked up, dropping the blocks and scampering to where her mother was at the door.

opposite her, a kindly-looking woman stood in front of her, holding a tin packed full of cookies.

“darling,” her mother crouched down beside her, “this is mrs jackson,”

y/n looked between her mother and katherine, offering a small wave.

“you know,” katherine knelt down, “i have a daughter around the same age, if little y/n was lookin’ for some friends in the neighbourhood?”

y/n’s mother looked to her, gasping softly.

“how’s that, sweetheart? you can make your first friend,”

the small girl just nodded, still too shy to say anything in front of katherine, who clapped her hands together happily.

”just send her over here whenever,” y/n’s mother smiled, “i’ll make some lemonade for them,”

that was how y/n ended up standing opposite janet, who was holding onto a doll in one hand, the other bunched into the side of her dress as she swayed from side to side on the spot.

“hi,” y/n was the first to speak, still half-shy as she held her own doll in one hand, “this is lily,” she held up the doll by the arm.

janet looked between her and the doll, before lifting hers too.

“daisy,”

and that was how the two girls started their friendship, y/n showing janet all the dolls clothes she had in a little box under the sofa.

“i think daisy would like a pink dress,” y/n fished out a little tattered dress, but janet took it like chanel, her eyes wide.

katherine came round later in the evening to find the two girls surrounded by little clothes, and shoes, and hats, and jackets, changing the outfit of their dolls every few seconds.

“they’ve been at it all afternoon,” y/n’s mother stood in the doorway beside katherine, a fond smile on both of their faces.

“just glad my janet finally has a friend of her own,” katherine said, watching as y/n helped janet wrap a tiny scarf round her doll’s neck.

“we best get goin’, we gotta take our sons for a show,” she said, her smile faltering for a second.

“a show?”

“well…see…my boys, they…they perform,”

“how so?”

“singin’…dancin’,” katherine said, her expression half-guarded, “whatever joe wants ‘em to do,”

y/n’s mother nodded, noting the look of weariness on the other woman’s face, and knowing not to pry.

she’d learn of the jackson 5 soon enough.

❀❀❀❀

~1971~

from that day on, y/n and janet had been best friends.

from visiting each other’s houses after school, to going to the park together with their mothers, the two girls were inseparable.

so naturally, y/n had met all the jackson brothers.

jackie was the oldest, then tito, and they talked to y/n the least out of all the brothers.

marlon would occasionally walk past and ruffle her hair, and randy would sometimes join in on playful teasing.

and michael, well, he didn’t talk as much either.

but all of them loved to tease y/n.

she was small, obviously being younger than them, and slightly smaller than janet too.

squirt.

that’s what they’d call her.

“watch it, squirt!” from marlon when he’d rush past, basketball in hand.

or a, “y’all playin’ dolls again, squirt?” in a mocking tone from jackie.

even michael used the nickname. “want anythin’ to eat, squirt?”

but when he used it, he made sure he didn’t hurt her feelings. he made sure y/n was actually comfortable with the nickname, and not to hurt her feelings.

the other boys teased her and janet relentlessly for being bossy and playing with dolls at their ‘big old age’.

but it was always michael who’d walk over later, holding the dress randy had snatched and hidden from her and janet, kneeling down to make sure she was okay.

“they weren’t too mean, were they, squirt?” he’d say, handing it back softly, helping push the doll’s arms back through the holes, as y/n would shake her head.

and even if she did, he’d make sure she was definitely not lying.

“they’re idiots, y’know that, squirt? pay ‘em no mind,”

and y/n would leave happy, knowing no matter where randy or marlon would hide her stuff, she’d always get it back from michael.

for a whole year, her life was perfect.

that was, until, katherine came to the door, a solemn expression on her face as she spoke to y/n’s mother.

the girl heard snippets of the conversation.

“encino…moving…the boys…the tour…music…”

moving?!

did that mean janet was going too?

that was how y/n ended up standing outside the house of the jacksons, one hand in her mother’s, and the other clinging hard to her doll, still dressed in the outfit janet had picked out.

she blinked hard, hot tears filling her eyes as she watched jackie and tito carry a heavy box into the back of their volkswagon van.

janet followed the boys out of the house, also blinking back tears as she clutched her own doll to her chest.

“katherine,” y/n’s mother said, as she walked to where they stood, watching.

janet stood beside her mother, swaying from side to side.

“i’m sorry about the girls,” katherine said, looking down where y/n and janet sniffled, mumbling things to each other.

“it was inevitable,” y/n’s mother said, watching as her daughter took off the miniature necklace from her doll, holding it out to janet.

“come on baby,” y/n’s mother knelt down, “janet needs to go with her brothers, alright?”

y/n just sniffled, gently handing the little necklace to the girl opposite her.

“it’s okay,” katherine said, “we won’t forget you, y/n,”

as much as it ached y/n’s mother to see her daughter upset, she knew visiting would be difficult too.

“bye y/n,” janet whispered, keeping her voice quiet as she sniffled.

any louder, and she would’ve cried more.

“bye janet,”

y/n watched with her mother as katherine led janet away gently, strapping her into the back of the car, not even registering the soft sound of footsteps coming towards them.

“hey squirt,”

y/n’s teary-eyed gaze was snapped from janet as michael tentatively knelt down, so he was eye level with her.

“wanted to give you this,” he held a book in his hands, the words ‘peter pan’ in cursive writing written across the front.

the girl’s attention was momentarily drawn to the book, slightly tattered round the edges, but still in good enough condition to read.

her hands were shaky as she took the book from him, holding it with both hands.

“it was my favourite book,” michael said, his voice gentle, “thought maybe you’d wanna read it,”

“oh michael…” y/n’s mother said, her voice full of gratitude as her daughter’s teary eyes flickered over the cover with slight curiosity.

michael was quiet for a second, watching the girl in front of him.

“catch you around, squirt,” he straightened, giving her hair one last ruffle as he headed towards the car.

marlon, tito, jermaine and jackie made sure to ruffle her hair as they walked past too, calling out a quick, “bye squirt!” as they did.

that was the last y/n saw of the jacksons.

she didn’t forget her old friend, but her life eventually went on without them, their memory kept alive by the doll she had, and the book michael had left her.

❀❀❀❀

~1986~

y/n had taken to modelling like a house on fire.

she had a commanding presence on the runway, a specific charm only she could muster for magazine shoots, and a face people would kill for.

but beneath all that?

she was almost still a child at heart.

it was early when she awoke to the sound of the postman walking past her house (she still lived with her mother), walking down the stairs with a mug in her hands and wrapped in her nightgown, to open the door.

a single cream, thick envelope lay at the bottom of the door, and in the front, her address scrawled.

she didn’t recognise the elegant, looped handwriting.

with a soft hum, y/n set her mug down on the table, mumbling a soft “morning” to her mother as she tore the envelope open.

a letter slid out from it, and on top?

a little, silver necklace.

the same one she had given janet when she’d left for encino.

surely not…

dear y/n, oh god it took so long to find you! but im so grateful i did, and im so sorry it took so long for me to do so. us jacksons are having a reunion in encino next week, and i’d be so grateful if you could come. I’ve missed you so much. lots of love, janet

for a few seconds, y/n was frozen still.

her old best friend, janet, had remembered her? and invited her for a reunion? how could she say?

the compound in encino was huge.

it had a fountain in the middle and a long brick path, the house separate away from the public with a large black gate that had to be opened for her by security.

y/n hadn’t exactly thought about what she’d say, looking down at the dress she’d chosen - a simple black one and some heels.

was it too little? too much?

it was too late to change now, of course.

with a deep swallow, she raised her fist to the thick wooden door, and knocked.

one…two…three…four…

the door opened before she could count to five in her head, and there she was. janet.

and god, she was beautiful.

“janet,” y/n finally spoke, her eyes wide as she stared at the best friend she had had long ago.

before either of them could say another word, they were wrapped in each other’s arms, mumblings of ‘i missed you’ and ‘you’re so gorgeous, girl’ between them.

the house wasn’t too full, with all the brothers (except jermaine), sisters and their parents in the large living room.

jackie and tito were having a full discussion on the sofa, joe sat in his armchair and smoking a cigar.

marlon, michael and randy were sat on the floor, and rebbie and la toya were in their own seats, talking softly.

they only noticed y/n at the doorway when katherine froze from the kitchen door, a tray in her hands.

“y/n,” she said, her voice full of disbelief.

she’d hardly expected y/n to actually turn up.

the whole room was silent for a second before it erupted into loud gasps and exclamations.

“squirt, that you?”

“no way that’s y/n!”

“you’re pulling my leg, jan!”

only michael watched from the floor, silent, but a small smile on his face.

of course she’d heard of his fame now.

he’d released off the wall and thriller, he was all famous now. y/n hardly expected him to remember her.

y/n and janet spent a whole hour on the sofa together, catching up on life; y/n’s modelling, how fancy janet’s life was now, all about y/n’s mother (who couldn’t make it due to work).

it wasn’t until after dinner that michael got y/n alone.

jackie and tito were arguing over a card game at the dining table, marlon and randy had disappeared outside with a basketball, and the girls were somewhere upstairs.

y/n stood by the sink with her sleeves rolled to her elbows, rinsing a few glasses despite katherine insisting she didn't have to.

"you really don't gotta do that," michael's soft voice came from the doorway.

the girl jumped, almost getting her sleeves wet as her head snapped back.

“didn’t mean to startle you,” michael said, his voice sheepish as she shook her head, mumbling a small “it’s fine”.

he leaned against the frame, hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, smiling almost sheepishly.

"old habits," y/n said quietly, “my mama would've told me off if i left without helping,”

a silence settled over them.

it wasn’t uncomfortable but it felt almost…nostalgic.

it wasn’t broken til michael walked next to her, picking up a tea towel.

“wash,” he said, eyes on her hands where she’s frozen, looking to him almost confused.

“you’re helpin’?”

“course,”

there was silence for a few seconds.

“surprised you didn’t forget me,” michael said, his voice soft, almost vulnerable.

“forget you? kinda impossible now you’re a big hit- sorry,” y/n caught the expression he gave her, one eyebrow raised as she winced.

”well, marlon always took my dolls,”

“he did,”

“and randy hid their clothes,”

“he did,”

“but you always gave them back,”

“i did,” michael said, drying off another mug and accepting a plate from her.

there was another silence, but it was less awkward, this time.

janet watched, her eyes wide as she peeked round the doorframe. oh god.

she matched up the stairs where all the brothers were sitting, playing some board game between them as the sisters sat on the bed and talked.

“family meeting,” she said, her voice as bossy as it always was.

“what did i do?” marlon looked up from the game, his piece still in his hand.

“nothing,” janet waved a dismissive hand towards him.

“then why're we havin' a meeting?" jackie asked.

janet folded her arms, letting them all watch her, waiting a deliberate second too long so they’d all lean in closer, desperate to know.

"because michael's in love,”

the room went quiet.

"...what?" tito blinked.

"with who?" randy asked.

“and do they like him back?”

“of course not, it’s mikey-,”

“don’t be a jerk marlon,”

“shut up jackie,”

“why don’t you-?”

“all of you, shut up!” janet hissed, narrowing their eyes in annoyance, “focus on the task at hand,”

“so who is it?” randy asked again.

“y/n,”

there was a pause between them all as they exchanged looks, their eyes blown wide as the sisters gasped.

then the room erupted with cheers and gasps of “i knew it!” and “ain’t no way!”

katherine, who had wandered in carrying a basket of folded washing, looked around at all of them.

"..what are y'all yellin' about now?"

"michael likes y/n," janet announced proudly, a grin on her face.

katherine blinked, before she stepped into the room, still carrying the basket.

“so what are y’all waiting for?” she asked, “get them together,”

that was how janet officially started ‘operation g.t.t’ (get them together).

janet didn’t waste a second.

“okay,” she clapped her hands once, pacing in front of them like she was briefing a military operation, “we’ve got a emergency,”

“this is not an emergency,” jackie muttered, “this is michael bein’ shy again,”

“it’s an emergency,” janet repeated sharply, pointing at him, “because y/n is here now. in the house. breathing the same air. do you understand the potential?”

“so what’s the plan?” randy leaned forwards.

“we make them alone together,”

“that’s it?” tito frowned.

katherine set the basket down with a knowing smile, “just don’t make it obvious.”

“mama, it’s already obvious,” marlon said, rolling his eyes as tito gave him a slap on the leg.

janet was already halfway out the room before anyone could argue further.

“where you goin’?” jackie called after her, looking to where she walked down the hallway in confusion.

“to initiate the first phase,” she grinned, like that was the most obvious answer in the world.

y/n was downstairs in the kitchen, still drying with michael alongside her when she saw janet walk in.

“hey jan,”

“hey y/n, got a sec?”

“uh sure,” y/n said, giving michael an apologetic look as he set down another cup, stepping off with janet.

“you busy tomorrow?” janet asked, trying to hide the excitement in her eyes as y/n shrugged.

“uh…no, not really,” y/n said.

“good,” janet nodded immediately, “stay a few days,”

michael blinked.

“what?”

“you just got here. you came all this way. you’re not leaving after one night,”

“i don’t wanna intrude…” y/n hesitated, glancing between her and michael.

“you’re not intruding,” janet said quickly, stepping further in, “this is literally the least intruding situation possible. you’re family,”

that word landed softly in the room.

michael looked down at the counter, like he was trying to pretend it didn’t affect him.

y/n’s expression softened.

“…are you sure?”

“positive,”

she turned slightly, finally looking at michael now.

“right, mikey?”

“oh…uh…yeah. of course. you should stay,” michael straightened a little, caught off guard, “i mean, if you want to. not like- y’know. you don’t have to. but you can. obviously,”

y/n nodded, smiling softly.

“i’ll stay a few days, then,” she decided softly.

janet smiled, turning her back to them as she moved towards the stairs.

their plan had officially began.

❀❀❀❀

It had only been a few hours since Michael left, and the kitchen and dining room were now so spotless you could almost see a sparkle on the surfaces. Next on your to-do list was the living room.

The music played throughout the house, your broom in your hand as you hummed absentmindedly to the song that played previously, before it faded off, leaving the house in a short moment of silence until the familiar opening of "The Way You Make Me Feel" started playing, the punchy sound of drums and bass echoing out into the space. Your body instinctively moved on its own as you twirled around the coffee table, completely immersed in the song, maybe too immersed that you didn’t hear the sound of the front door clicking shut, or the sound of his loafers clicking against the marble floors.

You were already shouting at the top of your lungs, using the broom as your own personal microphone, pointing at your invisible audience as you sang.

“The way you make me feellll”

Was the only thing Michael heard as he made his way through the halls into the living room, stopping in his tracks as he peered through the opening. The sight of the sun leaking through the windows completely lighting up the space as you pranced around, somehow ending up on the cushions of the couch, bouncing around and unbeknownst to you. Your fake audience had now become a live one, an amused smile playing out on Michael's face as he bobbed his head along to the beat, just waiting for the moment when you'd turn around and see him standing there.

Well, it seemed he didn't have to wait long as you turned around, posing, your eyes closed before you opened them, the realization setting in as you glanced at your position on the couch then to the smile that danced on Michael's face.

“Oh…OH!” You squealed, hopping off the couch, immediately cutting the music that filled the embarrassing moment.

“Just how much of that did you see…” you covered your face, your words muffled by your hands that were pressed to your face.

“Oh, I saw enough, maybe I should make you my apprentice,” he let out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back.

“Oh gosh, Michael, stop.”

"C'mon, do the pose again," he laughed as you buried your face in his chest, shaking it from the pure embarrassment of the moment.

"I'm never living this down."

"Nope, I expect a show every time I come home."

"Not happening.”

©angelfacediary

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Your finger wrapped around the handle of your door knob as you flung it open. “Who the hell is on my door—” you somewhat yelled, rubbing at your sleepy eyes, your next sentence dying in your throat as the familiar figure of a woman standing in your doorway caught your attention.

“Maddie?” you stood, arms crossed, a more than an irritated look plastered on her face that suddenly made your heart sink to your ass at nine in the morning. Maddie was your manager, she managed everything from gigs to your schedule, and she was more than strict. The fact that she was even standing at your door right now with that look on her face was bad news.

“Did you know about this?” She brushed past you, making her way into the spacious apartment, her heels clicking against the wood on the floor.

“Look, I have no idea what you're talking about. I just woke up not even five minutes ago,” you rubbed your forehead as she sat on your couch, the sound of her blazer and trousers ruffling against the fabric of the couch as she tapped away at her phone before turning it to you. The sound of your whimpers blared through her phone speakers. A very clear visual of Michael in between your legs eating you out like a starved man before it cut to you riding him.

“Ok, that's enough,” you covered your face with your hands, shaking your head as you tried your best not to make eye contact. Your stomach was twisted up in all sorts of ways, both with fear of your career and fear of what Michael had to say about this.

“The media is having a field day with this,” she spoke, standing up to make herself a cup of coffee.

“I'm done for,” you whispered, unsure of what to do next as you paced around the living room.

The headlines were insane and they were multiplying by the second.

“Michael Jackson sex tape released!”

“New and upcoming model dating Michael Jackson?”

“Stop pacing”

“I can't, what do we do? Oh god, thousands of people just saw me riding my boyfriend?” you whined, grabbing a throw pillow to yell into, taking deep breaths to soothe the nausea that bubbled up in your stomach, the bile building up in your throat.

“First of all, stop pacing and sit down.”

“Second, no one even knew Michael was dating anyone, let alone that a tape like this existed.” Maddie locked her phone with a sharp click, the sudden silence in the apartment heavy and suffocating. "Put some clothes on and call him. Right now. Because by noon, we either issue a joint statement that you two are dating, or we will watch your entire career burn to the ground.”

“God,” you whined, slumping your shoulders as you sat on the couch, before standing up again, moving frantically towards your bedroom, grabbing your phone, quickly dialing Michael's number, the sound of it ringing over again making you more and more anxious.

One ring.

Two rings.

“I know, I know I'm already working on it on my end,” he said, his tone more serious than it usually was, yet it still held some of that softness. “Don't look at any more things from the media, I'm going to get this handled.”

“Okay, I'll talk to you later,” there was the sound of the phone disconnecting as you looked around the room, taking in the sun that beamed through the curtains while inside your world was crumbling.

“If no one knew you were in a relationship, this is definitely the work of someone in his inner circle,” Maddie stood in the doorway of your bedroom, sipping her coffee from her mug.

“Get your shit together, we're heading straight to his studio to figure this out. I'll contact his team now"

©angelfacediary

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Michael didn’t mean to listen in on his older brothers, but he couldn’t help but listen as the conversation got raunchier. He continued drawing in his notebook as their laughter only got louder.

“Okay but what’s better giving or getting?” Tito asked. “Oh I love to eat.” Jackie shrugged. “I don’t know man, I’m more of a receiver.” Jermaine said.

Michael’s eyebrows raised, eyes darting up quickly to view his brothers lounging around the living room. Eat? He wondered but he was too scared to ask questions but he believes he was getting the gist.

“Man I made this one girl cum from my tongue, she been obsessed ever since.” Jackie shook his head with a laugh. Michael was officially intrigued but still acted as if he wasn’t listening. He gently chewed on his bottom lip, the idea of pleasing someone else sounding a bit too interesting in his head.

It was night time and he was under the covers trying to go to sleep. For some reason he couldn’t get the idea out of his head. He hasn’t even kissed a girl, better yet be in a relationship. Hearing about his brother’s experience sparked an igniting light in his head that wouldn’t go out.

The only girl he had contact with outside of family was his childhood best friend. She was a carbon copy of him, the two quiet—but talented—kids always in their own world.

They were practically attached at the hip, and the family allowed her around often, her quiet and sweet nature triggering a sense of a protective empathetic energy in all of them.

Maybe she knows something about it, and would be willing to teach him. His eyes drifted off, his bestfriend in his mind.

“Hi Mikey.” The girl enthusiastically said practically skipping inside of his room. “Hi pretty!” He excitedly said reaching the middle to wrap his arms around her.

He invited the girl that morning, ready to ask her if she could teach him how to go down on her. He trusted her like no other, and she was always honest and kind to him.

They embraced each other in a hug. No matter how many times they see each other, they have the same reaction everytime. He pulled away and glanced at her outfit, his eyebrows shooting up.

He couldn’t ignore the way his heartbeat picked up seeing her plaid two piece outfit. The soft supple skin of her thighs and tummy were visible and he unconsciously clenched his jaw.

She noticed his eyes on her outfit, “do you like it?” She smiled doing a spin, making his eyes drop to the fat of her ass. He took a sharp inhale, feeling the twitch in his boxers.

Of course there were times he looked at his best friend in a non platonic manner, she was absolutely beautiful in his eyes. He never made it obvious, always calming himself down before he could make any rash decisions.

“Y-yes it’s so nice.” He said as she turned to make eye contact with him. He suddenly felt too nervous to ask, the question seeming more daunting than before.

She took a seat on his bed, her white sock covered feet swinging in the air. “Why do you look so nervous?” She giggled causing a warmth to spread in his heart.

“No, I’m fine.” He gave her an angelic smile hiding the fact he’s itching to touch every single part of her. He took a seat next to her staring at his lap as he fiddled with his fingers.

Her presence next to him felt heavy, a thick heavy feeling. “You know you can talk to me Mikey.” Her angelic voice reassured him, nudging his shoulder. His eyes averted to her thick thighs, skin seeming freshly moisturized.

“I-I wanted to ask if you ev-” his words were cut off as his door fully opened showcasing Randy. “Mike we’re about to head out for lunch. Did you guys want to come?” The younger boy asked.

Michael glanced at you before shaking his head, “we’ll stay here.” He answered seeing this as the perfect opportunity. His hands felt clammy even thinking about it but had a feeling of excitement as well.

“Did you want me to bring you anything?” Randy asked, eyes landing on her. Michael wanted to roll his eyes but resisted, Randy’s crush on the older girl has been more than obvious.

“I’m okay, thank you Randy.” She smiled and he nodded sheepishly closing the door fully. As the door clicks shut, the gravity of his mind settled back.

“What were you gonna ask?” She turned to face him now sitting criss cross on his bed. His eyes darted towards the middle of her shorts, glancing back up at her eyes hoping she didn’t notice.

“H-have you ever been um…licked?” He asked suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed. Her eyebrows pinched together in confusion, “like a puppy?”

He shook his head, “not really, like…licked down there.” He said motioning between her legs. Her eyes widened, breath catching in her chest.

She shook her head quickly, face heating up at the thought. The vivid imagination of Michael’s face slurping at her middle made her stomach flip. She blinked rapidly trying to shoo the thought away as she felt herself get wet.

“Oh! I-I heard my brothers mention it. C-can we try it?—we don’t have to if you don’t want to, I was just curious.” He spout, words flowing so quickly not giving her time to process.

His eyes looked down in shame, feeling as if she was going to slap him and run out at any minute. “Okay we can.” She answered making him look at her in shock.

“Really?” He was surprised she agreed, and she nodded shyly. The two sat in a silence for a minute, not too sure of how to start. The room felt smaller even while they were the only two in the house.

She cleared her throat and scooted back a bit lying flat on her back. His eyes trailed her body, licking his lips. She looked at his eyes, a bit darker than normal. “Okay, I’m going to take your shorts off now.” He told her.

She nodded, and his shaky hands reached up grasping the waistband of the plaid shorts. He tugged them down her legs, boner jumping at the view her white panties.

He almost drooled noticing the wet spot feeling like a dog. Her chest moved up and down, feeling even more turned on at him looking at her panties.

“Y-you can take ‘em off.” She told him and his doe eyes glanced up at her face nodding. He gently grabbed at the waistband of her panties, feeling even more nervous.

He was so close to her bare pussy being right in front of his face. He could practically smell her arousal, shifting his hips at the tight space in his boxers.

He glided them down her legs until they reached his carpet. He choked back a moan seeing her glistening pussy, saliva filled his mouth, the desire to lick her becoming stronger.

“Um where should I lick?” He asked practically shaking. As much as he wants to go in, he wants to make sure he’s doing it right. “Um…” she sat up on her elbows trying to think of where he should start.

She never exactly analyzed her private parts, occasionally rutting against a pillow at night when she couldn’t help herself. Thoughts of Michael’s hand touching her, plaguing her mind through the night.

“try right there.” She said spreading her folds with one hand, and using her pointer finger to motion towards her clit. He nodded, biting his bottom lip at her spreading herself for him.

He leaned in, meeting her eyes, not wanting to miss her reaction just in case. His hands settled on the edge of the bed as his tongue came out to deliver a soft lick against her clit.

The wet warm touch caused her to let out a small moan, immediately feeling the pleasure from the small contact. He swallowed, her taste becoming addictive to him. She tasted so plain with a slight sweetness to it. He couldn’t help but wanted more.

“Should I keep goin’?” He asked curiously and she nodded. “Please.”

His eyes fluttered close at her pleas as his tongue met her cunt once again, flicking her clit around. Her moans became a bit louder as they naturally flowed out of her mouth.

Noticing her moans of pleasure, he took a chance and suctioned his mouth around her clit, giving it a gentle suck to test the waters. It seemed as if she absolutely crumbled, letting out a cry looking down at him.

His doe eyes met hers back, disconnecting his lips in worry. “Are you okay?” He asked with concern. She nodded quickly, desperate to feel his mouth again. “d-do it again please!” She begged. He didn’t hesitate to comply going back to suck on her clit.

Her hips bucked into his mouth, catching him by surprise. Her hand grasped his soft curls making him whimper into her. He finally found the courage—or maybe just his mind clouded by her taste—and brought his hands to hold open her legs.

Hunger surged through him, flattening his tongue on her pussy, dragging it up and down. “Mikey! I-it’s feels so good.” Her whiny voice called out making his dick jump.

He was in absolute heaven having his best friend spread out for him while letting him eat her soaking pussy. One of his hands trailed down his body landing at his denim jeans. His tongue didn’t stop its movement as he unbuttoned his jeans, tugging them down along with his boxers.

His hard flushed dick eased out, air brushing against it. He wrapped his hand around his thick dick, pulsing in his hand. The whimper he let out was buried in her pussy as he continued to eat, stroking his dick while he was at it.

Her hips continued to buck into his mouth, eyes rolling back as her hand gripped his curls in ecstasy. It felt like she was having an out of body experience as his tongue swirled around, making sloppy noises as he ate.

“Mikey oh my god!” She squealed. His pre-cum eased out of his tip, wetting his dick in the process as he stroked it rapidly, chasing his own release of pleasure. Her legs shook on the verge of closing in on his head.

His free hand kept a tight grip on her thigh not wanting to let up. He lapped at her, coating his jaw and nose with her wetness. “Mikey…it’s gon’ come out.” She whined not knowing the exact word for it.

“Man I made this one girl cum from my tongue, she been obsessed ever since.”

Jackie’s words crossed his mind. Maybe that’s what she’s about to do.

Michael continued, only seeming more aggressive with his movements. The quick fapping sound from his hand collided with the sounds of his slurping causing her eyes to roll back realizing he’s pleasuring himself as well.

Feeling his own release grow closer, his moans slipped between his constant nuzzling of his tongue. As she was on the tip of her release, her wet hole slightly opened. Michael’s tongue naturally slipped inside.

Her hands gripped the sheets tightly as his tongue continuously shoved inside her. He realized he was practically fucking her with his mouth, the thought making his own eyes roll back.

Her mouth dropped open in a silent moan as she began to gush on his tongue. Her legs shook, entire body twitching on his bed. It felt like everything just went quiet in her head as she felt the crash of her orgasm.

As he felt her contract against his tongue, he finally fisted his own orgasm out of his himself, covering his fist with ropes of his nut, hips bucking into his hand.

His mouth didn’t come up off of her even as she whined, his mind was too focused on emptying his balls with his tongue buried inside of her. He delivered the last few final sucks on her clit before laying his head on her thigh.

They both panted heavily, the house now quiet. “W-was that okay pretty?” He asked glancing up at her face. She nodded not finding the words to speak, clit throbbing at the most intense orgasm she ever had.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 — present | 1989

The reporter clicked their pen once, then twice— their eyes flickering over the pop star seated in the velvet armchair a few feet across from them.

The celebrity wore a vivid red dress shirt, black slacks, his signature loafers, his hair done in a loose Jerry curl mullet with multiple stray pieces falling over his forehead, and Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses he refused to discard.

As the reporter cleared their throat, they cued the cameras to roll with a wave of their hand.

aaandddd action.

“mr. jackson,” they begin, “you’ve just concluded your first solo tour, correct?”

Michael nodded, a heartfelt smile breaking across his face, “That’s right,” he said softly.

“A hundred and twenty-three shows across fifteen countries,” the interviewer emphasized. “You were on the road for nearly two years. That's spectacular dedication, Mr. Jackson.”

The man responded shyly, glancing down. “Thank you.”

The journalist then went on to inquire Michael's thoughts on the many successful things surrounding his album: Bad, such as its five consecutive number one hits, its peaking at number one in twenty-five countries… The list goes on.

But then mentions of you followed.

“You’ve been married to y/n for about four years now,” they smiled, the interviewer's tone turned slightly teasing. “But the two of you have known each other for nearly two decades, haven’t you?”

Michael paused for a few moments, adjusting his clothes slightly before letting out a laugh under his breath.

“I've known her since my days in Gary, Indiana,” Michael clarified.

a series of claps traveled through the live audience seated across the room, their expressions smitten with Hollywood's most beloved couple.

Michael Jackson—a man whose unfathomable fame made him seem almost beyond human, with extraordinary talent and an innate sense of rhythm that set a standard musicians still struggle to reach today.

He had it all, and of course, most notably, that included you.

You, a woman whose fame rivaled the brightest stars, with a beauty adored by cameras and a talent so extraordinary that audiences often forgot they were watching someone perform at all.

With rumors of your relationship surfacing in the tabloids in the early 80’s, the two of you finally tied the knot in 1985, sending the world into a frenzy.

to the world, you were Michael Jackson and y/n l/n, the legendary Hollywood celebrities who controlled the media,

But to the both of you, you were something entirely different.

Just Michael and y/n, two curly-headed preteens who first met by connecting through La Toya and often met outside the Jackson family home in Gary, talking about nothing remotely important yet becoming indescribably dear to each other.

Michael, who had never fully understood what it felt like to be a child and explore friendship,

and you, who often spoke without thinking or restraint, easily bringing smiles to those you were around.

Although he eventually moved away from Gary in late 1969, you reunited years later in California in 1979.

It was like no time had passed between you.

The interviewer glanced at his notebook before clearing his throat.

“It's said the two of you began dating soon after you reunited,” they say. “Also, you asked her on the bench of a playground?”

Michael laughed, the memories of that evening flooding in like waves.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 — June of 1979

You were twenty that year, sitting on the park bench of your neighborhood as you held a melting light blue popsicle, your legs unconsciously kicking underneath here and there.

Your short curly black hair was pulled back lightly into a low bun, a yellow hair clip pinning your bangs back as you watched a crowd of grade schoolers making a racket around in the playground.

Michael sat beside you silently, also with a popsicle in hand, although his eyes were directed at the moloch below him.

He had just finished recording his fifth solo album earlier that month; the long, restless nights of recording vocals, arguing over creative control, and changing lyrics were over.

And you had just been accepted for a lead role in an upcoming movie expected to begin shooting in the coming fall.

With his quiet, you sighed before speaking up, “After this year, things’ll only get harder,” you murmured.

Michael's gaze had lifted from the ground, his deep-set brown eyes turning toward you with somberness, “You're not one to usually talk about that kind of stuff.”

You nodded your head in agreement, “I know. But now that everything’s coming together all at once, I'm a bit nervous,” you admitted, biting the last piece of your ice cream.

“Of what?”

“I don't know,” you huffed, looking down, “I don't know why I'm saying all of this anyway.”

Michael followed your eyes before redirecting him to the plastic convenience store bag that sat between you, reaching in and taking out another popsicle.

He unwrapped it, careful to leave the wrapper around the end of the stick before hanging it to you, who took it without a second thought.

You continued: “We’ll get even busier. We can already barely hang out these days; soon, we won’t be able to do it at all.” You bit into your new popsicle.

His brows knit together at this.

“What?”

You looked at him, a heartfelt smile across your face, “Let's hang out a lot while we still can, okay?”

Michael paused as he registered the meaning of your words along with the approaching and inevitable reality.

His lips folded into a thin line before he reluctantly nodded.

“..okay.”

After that, the two of you sat in momentary silence. You seemed strangely at peace with it.

As though losing time together didn’t frighten you at all.

But Michael couldn’t convince himself to be that way at all; his eyes narrowed over at you, who continued to stare at the floor.

He let out a deep and shaky breath.

“y/n,” he murmured.

Hearing your name, he watched as your eyes flickered over to finally meet him.

“..if I asked you on an actual date.. Would you say yes?”

You blinked, your mouth slightly agape from surprise.

Hues of red grew faintly at the sides of Michael's face, although he remained brave, continuing to meet your gaze headfirst.

You couldn't help but smile at his attempt not to look nervous.

“Yeah, I'd say yes,” you finally answered.

At this, he could physically feel his heartbeat in his ears, as if he could explode right then and there.

“Cool,” he managed to muster, his voice weary as he nodded before looking down at the moloch. “Cool,” he repeated.

laughing softly under your breath, you rose from your seat, Michael's eyes darting over to you as you stretched.

“I should go home now,” you announced, turning to him and his look of slight disappointment.

“Pick me up on Friday, okay?”

Had it been the heat? Michael couldn't even bring himself to breathe properly.

quickly, he gave a series of nods, watching as a sweet smile curled upon your lips before you turned to leave.

Michael would then look down at his open hands, where the sticky melted mess of his popsicle was all over, and he couldn't even feel it.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 — present | 1989

“That’s right,” Michael confirmed, “we were both reaching busy times of our careers… and the thought of us no longer being in contact frightened me, so I just.. you know, laid it all out,” he admitted sheepishly.

“If I asked you on a date, would you say yes?” The interviewer repeated before barking out a laugh, the live audience joining in.

playful offense took over michael features as he waves his hands. “I was nervous! stop that!”

the laughter subdued shortly after, the interviewer regaining their composure.

“So then Hollywood's most loved couple had begun to see each other in the summer of 1979, that’s a long time. You've kept it nicely under wraps.”

Michael smiled.

“but regarding the question I think everyone in America wants to know..” they begins, their voice dropping into a more serious tone.

“where is y/n?”

Michael's smile didn’t drop dramatically, but the warmth in it had slowly melted.

the interviewer continued. “she was an extraordinary actress, one who enveloped magic into any film she worked on.. but for the past two years, she’s been completely away from the public eye.”

“What’s the reason for this?”

Michael lowered his gaze, his fingers absentmindedly smoothing the crease of his slacks.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 — october of 1987

You had turned twenty-eight only weeks before.

The papers called it another golden year. Another award season. Another premiere. Another headline celebrating the woman who seemed to possess the world simply by stepping into it.

And somewhere beyond the cameras, beyond the velvet curtains and flashing bulbs, there had been a secret that belonged only to the two of you.

another life that existed only when nothing else was watching.

Three months.

Three months of whispered names spoken in the dark.

Three months of Michael running around in the middle of night to buy whatever it was you were craving.

three months of speaking of impossible things like tiny shoes, lullabies, and a room painted in soft colors.

Three months of allowing yourself to imagine a future that neither fame nor fortune had ever managed to give you.

And then, without warning, it was gone.

The house had never felt so large.

You sat on the cold hardwood floor with your knees drawn to your chest, fingers pressed against your mouth as though holding yourself together required physical effort.

It seemed wrong that the world continued moving—that telephones still rang, that cars still passed outside, that somewhere people laughed without knowing that yours had ended.

Michael knelt beside you, his arms wrapped around you with such desperation that it almost hurt. As though loosening his hold, even for a moment, would cause you to vanish entirely.

Your tears fell silently, frightening him the most.

The woman who the world knew to command entire theaters with a glance, who could bring audiences to tears with a single line, and could stand beneath lights and make thousands believe anything.

But here, beneath the dim glow of your bedroom, you looked impossibly small.

“Baby,” his voice trembled against your hair. “Look at me.”

His hand settled at the back of your neck, keeping you close enough to hear his uneven breathing.

“y/n” His voice softened when he said your name. “I got you.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as though prayer alone could undo what had happened.

“I’ll take care of you.”

But the words didn’t land like comfort. They hung in the air because neither of you understood yet that grief is not something that leaves when promised enough love.

It would follow you quietly.

In every nursery window you passed.

In every question from reporters asking when you planned to start a family.

In the way your hands would eventually rest against your stomach without thinking, only for your breath to catch when you’d remember.

His arms stayed firm, anchoring you to him.

Michael lowered his head slightly, not fully collapsing into you, but close enough that the space between you no longer felt separate.

And even in his arms, even with him holding you as though he could keep the world from reaching you, something inside you had already gone still in a way you could not yet name.

It settled quietly.

And you stayed there, held, while the silence inside you deepened.

೯⠀⁺ ⠀ 𖥻 — present | 1989

What could Michael have said?

The nights of him returning home late from rehearsals came in flashes although the space now hadn’t felt like a place to call home nor looked to be a space anyone had lived in, at all.

as you isolated yourself in the enclosure of your shared bedroom in the following days, it wouldn’t be weeks until the first time the two of you had dinner together again.

he could remember it vividly, the red stains and dark circles around your eyes that showed just how much you cried and wouldn't let yourself sleep—

these habits that lacked any respect for your body and mind, almost as if you were intentionally punishing yourself.

Michael wore a warm smile on his face that evening as he guided you to your seat at the table and served your food.

He had attempted to also create conversation, but you shut it down quickly and left back up to the bedroom with no more than a few bites of food.

your husband sat there for a few moments, soaking up your absence before he would put away your full plate food.

Then when night rolled around, he’d cautiously enter the bed with you already settled and your back to him appearing as if already asleep.

but you never were.

you’d stay up all night again, thinking— crying.

The hushed whines would also keep the man up, no matter how exhausted he was

and he’d listen, carefully, the tips of his fingers aching to reach for you.

But they wouldn’t.

Not anymore.

Michael adjusted his position in the chair once again, lifting his head to look at the interviewer, though his eyes remained distant.

The question circled through his mind once more.

Where is y/n?

In truth, Michael didn’t know whether he could still say that he knew you.

Your presence felt so far away, even while you lived beneath the same roof.

You, whom he barely exchanged sentences with through the long and dreadful hours of each passing day.

If Michael had been asked this question two years ago, he would have answered in a heartbeat.

But now, he didn’t have one.

His eyes flickered back to the ring on his fourth finger.

It had remained there since the day you exchanged vows.

Even through these years of distance, it had never left its rightful place.

Perhaps it was the only thing that had remained unchanged.

Michael didn’t know whether to feel grateful for that or sorrowful.

How had it become this way?

When had things gone wrong?

The both of you could feel the distance widening with each passing day, a gap that seemed impossible to cross. There were moments when it felt as though nothing would ever return to what it had once been—to the years when love had come so naturally, so openly.

Now, it existed only as a memory.

The sun would never feel quite that warm again, and the flowers would never look quite as beautiful.

Michael pressed his lips into a thin line before finally speaking.

“She worked very hard for a very long time,” he began quietly.

“People see the premieres and the awards and all those things, but they don’t always see how hard somebody works.

He smiled softly.

“I think she’s earned some rest.”

The interviewer nodded. “Do you think she’ll return to acting?”

Michael looked down for only a moment.

“I hope so.”

He lifted his eyes again, smiling faintly.

“i miss seeing her do the things she loves.”