what? during the filming of michael jacksonâs private home movies, michael is shown a heartwarming video of you, giving him a chance to talk intimately about your relationship.
tags. fluff. lots of fluff. established relationship. reader is pregnant with their first child. timeline switches between 2003 (invincible) and 1989 (bad). childhood friends to eventual lovers implied. [name] is used a normal-ish amount, michael refers to reader as 'bunny' (nickname hehe). but there's very little description given for the reader for maximum immersion ă
word count. 3.5k
notes. my first foray into michael fiction... i typically do mmorpg roleplaying so this is very different for me, but a great writing exercise. i love michael very much and getting to write him is fun! really not my best work ajkfhnak. not proofread!!
please be advised that this is a work of fiction. i do not claim to know the people involved or understand their inner workings. thank you!
IT WAS NO SECRET... that michael jackson was one of the most photographed, most filmed figures in modern history. from press conferences, tours, red carpet appearances, and arms full of coveted awards, even a blurry photo of him beneath a tattered baseball cap and oversized aviators would get a few hundred underneath the table. it was part of the business; soul-suckingly taking bits and pieces of the man in an effort to feed the tabloid beast. unfortunately, the consequence of fame that rising stars commonly fail to account for is that this beast is seldom satiated, equipped with a bottomless appetite fueled by curiosity and shock value.
michael learned this at a young age, the hard way, as a budding boy with enough wisdom to power all of gary, indiana. he looked to the world with open arms, with a kindness and heart for all it could give to him. perhaps it was his fault that he didnât think of what the world could take away. perhaps it was his fault that the things the world slipped from him were intangible and invisible to the eye: privacy, protection, peace, and innocence. so it meant something when he agreed to a one-hour special of his private videos.
the scene was like any other day to him. the usual onslaught of cameras, crewmen without a name to rattle off to him, producers wanting the perfect commentary of each video he coughed up. michael felt the expectations to be inconsistent with how he truly perceived his memories, encased in amber film frozen in snippets of moments heâd hop into the delorean to go back to. from watching himself on the set of black or white, to his dearest friend elizabeth surprising him with an elephant, the smile that stretched across his face was genuine. it was warm and inviting and extended up to his eyes as they squinted with each laugh.
and even when the room was abuzz with faces most unfamiliar to him, full of life and an ambition to complete this project, the man was still alone, occupying one of many empty velveted theater seats. it felt awkward, but certainly not unfamiliar. he had been here before. he was at home in his solitude.
âalright, michael,â the main producer called out to him, the left side of his headset pushed behind his ear temporarily, âhereâs your next video.â the man in question noted the way his blonde hair sprung out like weeds beneath the filming gear, and it brought a grin out of him, one that sat on the cusp of a soft laugh. a young woman behind the producer, no older than a quarter century at best, quickly switched out the tapes, her eyes flickering back and forth to ensure she didnât break anything.
michael gave an affirming half-nod and a quiet âokayâ, shifting in his seat rather uncomfortably. heâd been sitting here for some time now and could feel his body branding itself onto the cushion beneath. out of anxiousness or perhaps impatience did he begin tapping his foot. though as the video sprung to life on the projector before him, he couldnât recall if his heart sank, or if it grew wings and fluttered into his throat.
âoh, i love this one,â michaelâs voice lowered to just a hair above a soft whisper, hands clapping together. his eyes told the story much better than words could. they lit up at the sight of a shaky camera pointed downward to the tile of the neverland ranch homeâŠ
1989. -
the click of black loafers echoed against the high walls of neverland. sunlight made itself known inside, plastering itself on every surface it could find, the warmth of that july day pressed to permanent memory. towering over a bulky, gray camcorder stood michael, clouded pink button up and all. a sweat bead threatened to manifest on his right temple as diligent hands fidgeted with the tape. âcome on nowâŠâ he didnât want to hurt the poor thing, but life was happening outside, slipping by with every second that the camcorder refused to function. his curls hung just perfectly, framing his face in such a way that this frustration was not so easily revealed. but maybe if he justâŠ
thud!
a little nudge of encouragement seemed to do the trick, bringing the temperamental device to life. the lens zoomed into the tile beneath michael, taking a moment to focus. âthere we go.â
the backyard was a sight to behold, out of a storybook where princesses and fairies and proud knights came to play. streamers of pink and blue twisted and hung from poles installed just for the occasion. balloons decorated the sky as they poked to the heavens in clusters attached to chairs and tables. the laughter of children was as sweet as song whilst the jacksons and the [surname]âs mingled harmoniously. as evidenced by the smell of the grill, manned by none other than joe jackson, there was no shortage of food. a table nearby, covered with a dainty floral cloth, was but swallowed whole by an overwhelming amount of wrapped gifts, of pink and blue and yellow paper alike. a larger-than-life teddy bear sat slumped beside the presents.
the lens zoomed in again, a bit rough at first, but once it focused, a smile crept onto michaelâs face. it creased into the camera, pushing the view upwards.
ââŠand thereâs [name],â
he carried her name as if it were scripture, and gazed upon her with the hope that heâd forget tomorrow, all so he could see her face for the first time again. the video lingered on the woman as she sat in a painted chair adorned with pink and blue balloons, tassels, and frilly things. her hands idly wrapped around her stomach. it protruded from her rest of her body, though from the angle michael was recording from, it proved difficult to see. the dress she chose for that day made her appear almost ethereal; a pale green number whose frilled neckline scooped down past her collarbone, the fabric of layered tulle that moved with each hush of the wind.
her hair had originally meant to be down that day, but janet had so lovingly pinned it back for her in preparation for the heat. michaelâs eye, through the camera, continued to persist on her, as if she was the only person there with a worthy story to tell. her gaze seemed to have latched onto her niece. whatever it was she had grabbed from her - a magazine it looked to be - the woman began fanning herself with it, a sigh bordering obnoxious rising and falling from her chest. behind the video, a gentle, low chuckle erupted from the director...
-
michael, from the theater chair, pointed to the screen. he was growing more and more giddy, like a child who had but brushed knuckles with their crush in the school hallway. âthis was nineteen-eighty-nine⊠just before our first child was born. i felt so sneaky for getting that shot of her,â he shook his head, covering half his face with his hand. there was another grin tugging at his lips, âshe hated being filmed, especially then.â
to hear him speak of his children was a privilege. he kept his wife close to him, shielded her as best he could from the ever-hungry public, and he did the same for their kids. to grow up as the child of michael jackson was a unique life to be given, a hand dealt to you with a multitude of thorns. and it was their mother and father that did their best to provide normalcy for them, to prick each thorn off and give them something they themselves never had.
âmy kids â my family â they are everything to me. they are in the music i write and are part of my creative process, every step,â sincerity dripped from his voice like sweet nectar off a honeycomb, his body language opening up to the world. âfatherhood is a new journey every day for me. iâm learning things about the kids all the time. they love to read and to play outside and climb the trees, just like i do.â
he pressed on, âand doing it all with her is such a blessing.â a laugh bubbled and broiled from michael at the next shot, âoh, she still teases me for thisâŠ
-
âbunnyâŠâ
her back was turned to the camera, hands on her hips as she swayed side to side. she and latoya stood next to the pool, watching the kids show off their cannonballs and backflips. the conversation between the two women appeared passionate, well, on latoyaâs end. [name] was simply nodding, giving the occasional input here and there, but otherwise resorting to that of a lent ear. as michael approached the duo slowly, it was as if his wifeâs newfound motherly instinct had taken form prematurely, her head turning sharply to the camera.
âmike! stop that!â as annoyed as she was, there was nevertheless a smile on her face. her palm almost swallowed the view completely, holes of that day peeking through her fingers. michaelâs laugh was all that could be heard as she pushed the camcorder down.
the culprit feigned a hurt pout, âyou know i just think youâre pretty.â he readjusted the camera, âânâ i want everyone else to see it, too.â
she couldnât tell if it was the heat of the july afternoon that had begun to pulsate on her cheeks, or the shade of crimson that was, oddly enough, always around when michael put her under the limelight. it had been that way since they were kids, a tale as old as time. heâd muster up the courage to say something sweet, almost too sweet, and sheâd turn away and find the ground more interesting.
but it was the way she twisted her mouth from side to side, then keeping it on the left, that told michael all he needed to know. she was never great with receiving compliments, never great with having the attention. all the while, the undisputed king of pop lifted her to new heights. he built a foundation of confidence within her over the course of their lives, doing whatever he could to someday make her see herself the way he did.
the nickname âbunnyâ came from their childhood, too. her first pet, cautiously gifted to her on her seventh birthday after months of allowance money and beggary had been saved up. michael was the first to meet the lop eared animal. there was something about the young boy and animals, she noticed. there looked to be a language spoken between every one he offered a smile to. thus, he bestowed the title to her after watching the way her nose scrunched up at the smell of her mothers latest gelatin monstrosity.
needless to say, she hated it from the beginning. and it only served to bite her in the behind as time passed, as michaelâs brothers picked the nickname up too. even janet and katherine slipped the name a few times, despite both pinky promising never to use it.
she didnât know exactly when it was that the nickname suddenly changed to her. maybe when she heard michael whisper it to himself absentmindedly, or when heâd begin every letter and every call to her with it. it was something between them that remained consistent for a lifetime, and that was exactly what michael needed.
âyou gotta show the gifts!â latoya unceremoniously interrupted the moment, taking it upon herself to turn the camera towards the table. michaelâs eyebrows furrowed. his sister certainly had a delicate, heavy-handed touch. âyou take it then!â he released his palm from the side handle of the camcorder, hoisting the equipment from his shoulder and onto latoyaâs with one fell swoop.
[name] stifled a laugh, giving the woman a poke in the back, âdidnât think itâd be so heavy, huh?â
âoh, whatever!â latoya quickly made her way to the gift table, shooing one or two tiny jackson kids away from the cameraâs view.
with the husband and wife left alone, michael made up for lost time in the directors seat, wrapping an arm around her waist and gently guiding her into his embrace. she didnât fight it, letting her body lean into his side. the temporary feeling of weightlessness brought her bliss, something she hadnât felt for close to eight months.
a firm kiss was planted onto her forehead, followed by a studious look upon her features. their time spent together had paid off in that words became less and less necessary. there were little long-winded explanations, few moments of true misunderstanding. it was a double edged sword at times, as neither of them could truly hide from one another. which is whyâŠ
âyou smell like paint,â she blurted out.
michaelâs eyebrows shot up, âwhatâre you talking about?â
âi can smell you,â she brought her hand to his wrist, pulling it up to her nose, âyou know what they say about pregnant women.â
âi donât actuallââ
she finished his sentence, or perhaps cut it short, âthey can smell everything, heightened senses and all.â her head tilted to the side, eyes fixed on the curls that framed his face. they somehow stayed tight in the summer heat, âyou were in the nursery again.â
âi just wanted to get it done,â michael brought his hands up to surrender, guilty as charged. âwhatâs the baby going to think when they come into their room and see an unfinished mural?â
[name] failed to suppress her smirk. he was cute when the determination set in, âitâs okay to ask for help, you know.â
âiâm doing it myself, bunny.â
there it was again.
âi want to help you,â she crossed her arms, opting to lean into his body again and peer down at his loafers. the baby shower went on around them, but they hadnât a clue about it. stuck in their own bubble. âyou do everything by yourself.â
michael dug his hooves in the ground, âand iâll be doing this myself too.â he shifted his body weight a bit, straightening her up and wrapping his hands around her shoulders. âyou are doing more than enough, look at you!â doe-eyes gazed upon her. delicate and tender was his stare, boring into every crevice of her skin. she looked just as she did when he first met her, on the steps of her front porch in gary, indiana. and despite wearing a worn expression, she had a light in her eyes none other than michael could conjure.
she threw her head back and let out a tired laugh to the sky. there was one lone cloud up there in the deep blue, and she took note of it, held onto it for the rest of the day. he was still there once she met his eyes again, still holding all the wonder in the world for her.
âyou are carrying my child, our child,â michael pushed a stray hair out of her face.
âcrazy to think about,â distracted, she poked her attention at the festivities. tito and jermaine had overtaken joe on the grill. katherine and her mother sat at a table alone, closely discussing the family happenings. they had been so engrossed in each other that she had nearly forgotten what everyone was here for. he was excellent at pulling her away from the noise, oftentimes absorbing it for himself just so she could get some quiet. âyou know what else is crazy?â
-
from the projector, latoyaâs voice could be heard commentating on what the camera captured. the picturesque view taken in by the grainy tape, comparable to that of a painting.
âthereâs your mommy,â a slow zoom into [name]âs figure as michael engrossed himself in her presence, rubbing her shoulders. it slowly panned over to him, âand thereâs your daddy.â
there was silence from the set, not a peep from michael as latoya brought the past to life. his head tilted oh-so slightly. surprisingly, he hadnât known about this part of the video.
latoya continued, âthey love you very much, and they canât wait to meet you.â
the producer hesitated, âmichael?â
he snapped out of his head, readjusting himself in the chair and smoothing out his jacket. âum, iâm sorry.â he waved his hand, âyou can scrap that part. i just, you know, she was so beautiful here.â
he was borderline jealous. latoya had captured his wife so well. âshe is beautiful every day, and iâve known her for many days.â a dry chuckle crawled out of him while something bashful crept in. even years later did the man struggle to put comprehensible sentences together when speaking about her. it couldâve been voodoo magics at play, or just the unexplainable way she made him feel.
âshe lived four doors down from me, and our mothers were friends,â the child within him reflected on his face, his cheeks pushing up and out whilst a wide smile emerged. âwhen i left school for the jackson five she was still there, bugginâ me about the homework they had.â
âi remember her getting me a jump rope one day,â michael continued, âshe told me the girls at school made up a routine to âabcâ! i didnât know how to feel âbout it. that was the first time she brought up anything to do with my music.â
he didnât look to care that the was rambling on, theyâd take out what they needed to from the final cut anyway. âit was like she wanted me to forget about what was happening around me and how fast it was going. i never had a childhood like she did. she mustâve known thatâŠâ
was he getting choked up again? surely not. the lump in his throat was telling him otherwise. out of the corner of his eye, the timid girl that had put the tape in watched him carefully. like he was going to break at any moment. but michael pressed on, he knew what happened next. âkeep going!â a small hitch in his voice broke the facade of confidence.
-
âwhat is it?â michaelâs face folded into concern, fully prepared for her to say her water broke. but instead, a sly grin was given to him.
âgot you!â
an army of children fully broke the tender moment the soon-to-be mother and father shared. supersoakers abound, the camera shook with latoyaâs laughter as they ambushed michael with straight-shots to the chest and face. [name] narrowly escaped imminent death by stepping to the side. she couldnât contain herself either, nearly howling with amusement while michael threw his hands up, doing a poor job of keeping his clothing dry.
âhey!â a shriek could be heard from the supersoaker victim just before he took off for the yard, rounding the pool and making for the grass. the kids, jackson and [surname] cousins alike, certainly put up a fight. they kept him on his toes, and soon did michael have no choice but to retreat into the trees.
his body moved swiftly and with ease. the muscle memory of every bend and branch of the tree served to pay off in the end, as he quickly settled into safety from the band of youth down below. panting like a dog, michaelâs heart was racing and pumped with adrenaline. âyou guys are crazy!â
âcome down, mikey!â [name]âs nephew taunted. his watergun was already pointed to the trees, trying to find the popstar amongst the leaves. âwe wonât hurt you!â a ripple of giggles ensued at that.
âliar!â he had become quite comfortable up there. no wonder it was one of his favorite places to write songs. nevertheless, he was having fun.
the grass crunched beneath heavier footsteps, a taller shadow joined the cluster of smaller ones, ânot even for me?â
michaelâs shoulders relaxed instantly. his favorite voice poking above the crowd of loaded supersoakers. if it was any other day, heâd be down in an instant, âthatâs not fair!â
âthey promised they wouldnât hurt you,â she called out to him. she was fully under the tree then, her head craned up to him. thinking for a breath, she turned to the kids. her face lit up unexpectedly, âi heard theyâre doing cake now. ask jackie.â
âwhat?!â âno way!â âletâs go!â
the last few shots of the video, before it cut to latoyaâs precise viewing of each and every gift, was of the children stampeding their way back to the main area. it was rather trembly and unfocused, the last words a loud demand of, âi want a piece of chocolate cake!â
-
in hindsight, michael shouldâve known the kids were plotting his doom from beneath the tree. but he always had a trust in them. hindsight also told him that his wifeâs little white lie got jackie in lots of trouble with the little assailants, because the cake was in fact not happening when she said it was.
it had him wiping a tear from his eye in hilarity, âshe always knows how to get me out of trouble.â
from the sidelines, the producer raised a hand, âletâs take five, everyone.â
as the crew scattered into their own directions, michael hoisted himself from the seat. he was on a mission, as evidenced by the smile that lingered on his face. âwhereâs my phone? iâd like to call my wife.â
fin.
concluding notes. again this really wasn't my best work :sob: so i apologize if it's a little weird. i just had this thought in my head and wanted to get it out! i really like the idea of childhood friends to lovers with michael (foreshadowing for later fics)... it's so cute...
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