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You ever wish you could just stay in one moment?

[l0vrgir1]

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[startingsomethin]

₊ ⊹ GONE BY MORNING. ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵗʷᵒ

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 / Fluff / Smut /

SUMMARY: It's 1987 and with his career reaching heights, Michael Jackson has the world at his feet. His name reads like a mythical legend echoed across the globe, he's at the top of his game and about to embark on his first solo world tour after the release of the Bad album. Everyone tells him he should be celebrating, this is the happiest time of his life, but if that's true, why does he feel so alone? As tabloid gossip runs rampant and press vipers edge closer, he can feel the walls closing in. Stuck between the camera lens, he no longer feels human, just a caricature of a man he no longer recognises. When a blast from the past suddenly reappears in his life (at a funeral of all places), Michael feels a glimmer of hope that not all is lost. Only problem is, she still doesn't trust him after a mistake he made in '84.

WARNINGS: Angst. Mentions of infidelity. Arguments. Strong language. NSFW scenes. Funeral/Death mention (not a major character.) Mentions of racism / the KKK (not super detailed, just mentions as found in a manifesto Michael had actually written for himself before the bad era.) Minors do not interact with this post.

WORD COUNT: 22.2k (yikes. buckle up guys.)

MORE: you can read part one here.

Bereavement has a funny way of uniting people. From families to strangers, gathering in attendance mourn the loss, yet celebrate the life of someone held dear.

Cultures across the globe had their own form of celebration, separate ways of respecting their deceased, but they all had the same result because the losing someone is never easy, regardless of geography.

In The United States, wearing black was seen a common sign of respect ― a way to honor those that passed by downplaying your own appearance to keep the focus on funeral.

This was how she found herself sitting in a unfamiliar church, legs crossed delicately at the ankle, in a obsidian dress that fell to mid calf. Not her typical attire, but well, circumstances dictate and who was she to fight tradition?

The California sun beamed bright through the stained glass window, casting a rainbow hue against the tired, brick floor and commanding the room, right at the front of the service stood a priest ― a short, well mannered man with salt and pepper hair, talking passionately about the creation of man.

Aching cries could be heard, soft with the attempts of thoughtful people desperately resisting falling apart in the midst of pain.

It was beautiful in a way. Not death, but the careful consideration people showed in moment of true sadness.

Not knowing many people here, she found herself sitting in relative isolation, a chair between her own body and the next person, but that was okay. She was here to pay her respects and knew she wouldn't stick around after the service. There was no need.

As a gentle prayer reverberated off the tall, stone walls, she couldn't help but feel an impending sense of concern ― a burning, warning sensation, intuition screaming that she was being watched.

In a desperate attempt to not draw focus, with a subtle shift of her body, her head turned. The change of perspective allowed more access to the room and tired eyes lingered, searching the space of gathered grief.

Each person sorrowful, not knowing what to with their hands. Some cried openly, while others forced themselves into heavy silence. Even in a state of unknowing, children in attendance seemed to understand something irreversible had taken place and she silently wondered why anyone would submit their child to such misery.

After scanning the vicinity and finding nothing suspicious, she was about to turn back to the front.

Whatever that feeling was, she must have imagined it and maybe that was partly her fault. Death made her uneasy and as she grew, she found herself believe more and more in the supernatural.

Shaking the ridiculous thoughts aside, her body began to move, placid and with caution, but just before the priest could regain the full cusp of her attention, her body froze like that of a statue ― unwavering and solid.

In the not too far distance, her eyes caught a glimpse of the person causing such inner conflict. Suddenly, her stomach dropped and she could feel the frantic ache of her heart hammering in her chest.

There, right at the back, desperate to stay hidden, dressed in same dark shade the rest of the attendees donned, yet somehow standing out like a sore thumb ― the way he stood, the curl of his hair, maybe it was the flashy watch or the way his clothes were just a little too embellished for every day society.

But the thing that got her, truly throughly hit like an arrow though the heart, had to be those damn aviator sunglasses, the one's she could recognise a mile off. Despite the shade of darkness covering his eyes, she knew the searing heat of a familiar gaze staring back. Resisting the urge to roll her own, she turned back to the service and tried to give very little thought to the other spectator  ― a practice which seemed far easier in theory.

As the funeral continued, she tried to best to focus, but the newfound distraction was persistent, like a mold that festered and refused to go away. The feeling lingered, her face flamed and for the first time that day, she wished that the burial site recently dug for the newly deceased would swallow her up instead.

Once closing prayers were shared, an assemblage of people stood at once. Those that knew one another shook hends and shared polite hugs, comforting the pain with heartfelt gestures of love. What proved to be a sweet sight was also the thing that prompted her to leave on account of not know most of people in the room. Watching their shared grief felt a touch intrusive.

Purse in hand, with a graceful turn on her heel, she followed the steps that would lead her outdoors. The shining beams of lights in the sky almost felt too happy for what she'd witnessed, or maybe it was the universes way of proving that even on the worst days, hope still lingered. Whatever the world was trying to say, all she knew was that she needed to leave.

The desire to get her car had been the driving force propelling her forward, the distinct click of her shoes meeting the sidewalk as she lead the charge, most people opting to stay inside for a little while longer. Peaceful in nature, until the sudden sound of a low, flat heel joined her own.

Of course she knew who it was. How could she not? Those footsteps had been part of the soundtrack of her life for an entire year. She recognised the pace, the echo, the growing crescendo as they drew nearer.

She should've known better by now.

He didn't track, he stalked and so as her feet came to an abrupt halt, so did the echoed movement behind her.

Like the buzz of a humming bird, the beat of her heart increased. The air around them had already changed and she could smell the scent of his cologne without so much as seeing his face.

Bal ã Vaersailles if she wasn't mistsken ― a French fragrance usually targeted to a female audience, but he'd fallen in love with the scent after catching wind of it on Elizabeth Taylor.

With her back to him and her eyes closed painfully, she finally let out a shuddered breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.

"If you're trying to keep a low profile, you're doing a terrible job."

The first words she'd uttered in his direction since the disastrous phone call of 1984, the very same one that broke the foundations on which they built their realtionship and she wished more than anything, she'd thought of something wittier to reintroduce herself into his orbit.

Like he hadn't yet registered the sound of her voice, it took a moment, but eventually she heard the familiar sound of him clearing his throat and then that frustratingly gentle tone.

"Well, I must be doing better than you think." He started, tilting his head to look at her from head to toe even if she wasn't facing him. "No one else noticed me."

With no direct line of sight regarding his face, she could still somehow picture the cocky smirk edged against his lips and found herself rolling her eyes at the imagery.

"Maybe that's because you weren't burning a hole into the side of their heads the entire service." She muttered, folding her arms across her chest like a form of protection.

"You don't know that." He laughed.

"Yes I do."

Her stubborn inability to look in his direction caused a flare of irritation to form within and he knew it was entirely irrational.

She had every right to avoid him and if he was really honest, he found himself surprised she's taken it upon herself to start a conversation. That same honey tone he once compared to that of a bird song had felt so pure once.

Now it hurt to hear that voice linger with traces of disdain.

Shuffling awkwardly on his feet, he found himself desperately resisting the urge to tug at her upper arm and turn her himself.

"Will you face me?" He asked and once she failed to meet his request, he muttered a final blow. "Please?"

With a subtle rise of her shoulders, she breathed out a heavy sigh she'd been holding and told herself it didn't mean much. It had been three years since they were this close, since she heard him pleading for her outside the apartment door. It had been long enough that he should no longer have any effect over her and so with her fist cletched, she followed his request.

Slow, but sure, her movements fell in line and soon her feet had made a full half a turn. The painfully familiar coutures of his ridiculously perfectly face came into view and her beath caught in an instant.

The vitiligo now presented itself to a magnitude impossible to ignore, but he was still handsome. He still had that dazzling smile, those sparkling eyes and an air of childhood whimsy etched into the very fabric of his being. The reality of seeing him so close somehow still felt comforting and she hated him for it. Not because of who he was, but because it was difficult to see all the beauty when the act of betrayal still clouded the picture of the man she knew.

Tucked into the collar of a black buttoned shirt, she found the same aviators he had been wearing inside the church and could help but think how ironic it was that he'd worn them inside only to remove them the second he stepped out in the sun.

"What do you want, Michael?" Feeling no need to beat around the bush, she barley flinched at the wide eyed reaction provoked by her words.

"I uh..." Scratching the back of his neck, a nervous habit he hadn't kicked, Michael's gaze fell downwards. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Even as he said it, she knew it to be true.

Why would he have thought he'd see her here? Frankly, she was shocked to see him too. Not because she didn't think he cared enough to attend, God no. One thing about Michael, he felt enough emotion to cover a thousand people, but he was a busy man.

While she didn't keep a close eye on his career these days, it was impossible to ignore with the giant success that came from the Bad album.

"Just because I stopped talking to you doesn't mean I stopped talking to everyone I met through you." She shrugged, unwavering against his pitiful glance. "Oscar was my friend."

"Yeah... I know." And the nod he gave said more than the sorrowful words.

Oscar Roberts had been an elderly man Michael had introduced her to only a couple months into dating. He had been a friendly, happy person, who often got a thrill out of proving his intelligence by beating her in crossword puzzles from the morning papers.

From the moment they had met, a connection bloomed, like suddenly her family had expanded to make room for a grandfather she didn't know she had.

But before all of that, before he had become her friend, he had been a vocal coach who encountered Michael in his youth.

As a young boy fronting one of the most popular pop groups in the world, Michael craved a steady foundation. One his own home life had never provided.

For a while, he latched onto the stability that came from Oscar and then that later transfered to Bill the moment he was hired by his father. Although the dymanics shifted, he never forgot about Oscar and the care he showed to a young child when he needed it the most.

It had been a while since he had last seen his friend, but upon learning of his death, Michael, of course, dropped everything he could to make it to the funeral. One final goodbye to a friend who saw him as a person rather than an image.

He realised quickly, he shouldn't have been surprised to find her here there at all. She must have continued to visit the elderly man long after the demise of their realtionship.

"He was a good guy."

"The best." She agreeded.

A heavy pause fell between them, silence broken only by the distant chatter of a mournful group still stood in the church.

Michael chanced a gaze while she looked past him. Still so pretty, but her eyes were ever so lightly tinged with a red hue that indicated she'd been crying earlier and if it were possible, he felt his heart break for her.

"You look beautiful." He complimented, the words falling from his tongue before he realised what he'd said.

That black dress fell against her body like it had been made for her, precisely crafted to her exact measurements. There was an air of confidence about her, despite the unfortunate set of circumstances surrounding them and his heart skipped a beat every time her eyes found his own.

"Don't." She warned.

"Don't what?" He asked, stepping closer, into in charted territory.

On instinct, she found herself stepping back, keeping the distance that felt safe. "Act like everything is normal between us."

"That's not what I'm doing." Michael spoke, brows arched.

"That's exactly what you're doing and it's bullshit." She scoffed in frustration.

Her reaction provoked one of his own and Michael found himself sighing in debelif, scrubbing a large hand over his face in irritation. "Why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything." She insisted, eyes narrowed into slits as the anger swelled. "You followed me out here, for what? So we could have this awkward conversation and you could throw shitty compliments at me."

"That's not what I'm doing." He repeated.

"That's exactly what you're doing."

Bickering with an ex had been the last thing she had wanted to do, especially today of all days.

Like the world mocked her misery, ths sun hid itself rays behind dark clouds, the warm air vanishing and leaving behind a grey chill.

In front of her, he stood as though he could hardly believe this was happening and maybe it wasn't the conversation that had thrown him off at all, maybe it had been her presence.

If that were the case, she felt a twinge of sympathy. She finally found she could relate to him in some manner.

"Can we not do this here?" His voice grew gentle, more akin to that he would use to present a version of himself to the public. "Please. I don't want to argue at a funeral."

At that, the harsh glare of her eyes softened and she felt the exact moment her shoulders dropped, laying her defences down. "Me neither."

"So..." awkwardly shuffling on his feet, Michael bit down on his lower lip and then held out a shaky hand. "truce?"

Time froze as she stared at his peace offering. The same hand she had once held in loving moments of devoted bliss. Where his long fingers had slotted against her own perfectly, like he'd been crafted just for her.

The same hand that had once caressed her body, worshipped her skin or tugged at her hair during particularly passionate nights.

Nauseated with nostalgia, her instincts kicked in. Fight or flight and this time, she spoke before really processing the situation at head.

"I'm have to go."

She stepped back, refusing the hand shake, turning her back and stepping away.

Only she didn't get far when a warm force wrapped around the fragile bones of her wrist, not harsh, but enough to keep her still.

"Wait." His voice a broken plea. "I'm sorry."

With the particular intensity of the situation at hand, neither of them had noticed the figure slowly inching closer nor the desperate look of anxiety clawing at his senses. That was until a secure hand fell on Michael's shoulder and scared the man back into reality.

Allowing her wrist to fall from his grasp, he turned to find his well loved bodyguard and though he cared a for the man a great deal, he couldn't help but silently curse the intrusion.

"Yes Bill?"

"People are starting to leave the church." He acknowledged. "We should go, Mister Jackson."

Mister Jackson. So professional. If only they knew the world knew how close they were when they weren't in a professional setting.

"One moment please." Michael pleading.

Chancing a glance over her shoulder, it wasn't long until her gaze met that of the newcomer, his eyes flickering with a sense of familiairy as a hint of a smile curved against his lips.

"Well, hello again." Bill laughed like he was witnessing the impossible. "I wondered if we'd ever see you again."

"Hi." Finding it impossible to resist, she smiled back. "It's really good to see you, Bill. You're looking well."

"You too kid."

Before further pleasantries could be exchanged, the church doors opened and with that, the face of reality broke through the fragile structure of isolation they'd built moments before.

"I should go." She muttered, not wanting a crowd to form and see them together, even if logic told her no one would notice her when Michael Jackson was around.

Still, she retreated, not so much as rasing a hand to wave goodbye as she returned back to her own vehicle.

Once inside, gathering her emotions in a desperate attempt to calm her racing heart, she couldn't help but curse Oscar Roberts despite his death.

Even from beyond the grave, that old man still found ways to torment her.

Unable to linger on thoughts of a love past, a week later, work began to pile up. When she first started illustrating children's books, it had never occurred to her just how demanding the process would be.

Between reading the books and poems, starting the beginning sketches and getting the green light to go ahead and create the final product, life never felt boring.

As busy as she always found herself to be, she would be lying if she said she didn't love it.

Art was a form of escapism and she understood how fortunate she was to have made a name for herself in a field that was so obscure.

She'd worked hard for it, but that didn't mean she'd grown ignorant to the advantages it provided her. There had been a time straight out of college where she had struggled to find work in her profession and she told herself never to forget just how difficult that had been.

A huge perk to living alone came in the form of the spare room she owned. Most people would have used it as a guest bedroom, but she'd spent days renovating it into a studio so she could focus on her work in peace, separate from the rest of the home where she could escape to when she needed a break from painting.

With tentative brush strokes, the picturesque watercolor scene bloomed to life beneath her hands. Two, mischievous bunnies forging their way through the forest in search for their lost friend.

This particular project had taken a lot to secure. With so much back and fourth between herself, the publishing company and the author. It had been her job to make their tale come to life. After a lot of finessing, they'd finally all agreed on a snippet of concept art and now she had fully immersed herself in the piece.

How much time had passed since she sat down at her desk early morning? She had no clue. Time seemed to slip away whenever she found herself working and the only indication the day had moved without her came from the sunlight peaking through her window.

The sky had darkened a hue, but the sun had yet to set. Blending a particular tricky shade of green, she had been prepared for another couple hours of painting at least, but then a swift bang on her front door broke the creative focus.

Jumping in her seat, she found herself lowering the paint brush into a glass of water and slowly rising to her feet.

Not expecting any visitors, it only made sense to check who stood on the doorstep by looking through the peep hole and when she did so, she really wished she hadn't.

Wearing an entirely too charming smile, hands folded innocently behind his back as he tipped on the balls of his feet and straight back down. There was something so unique to him as a person, qualities she had never found in another.

Michael Jackson.

Of course. Because when had her life ever been normal?

Ripping the door open quick enough, she feared the state of the hinges once they'd settled. Her body crowded the frame, leaning against the wooden panel with her arms crossed.

"What are you doing here?" She demanded, narrowing her eyes on instict.

If he'd been shocked by her cold welcome, he didn't acknowledge it. If anything, the subtle curve sitting at the corners of his lips showed her that he was entirely too thrilled to see her face.

With an innocent shrug, he finally stood still. "I was in the neighborhood."

"You're never 'just in the neighborhood.'" She scoffed in disbelief. "You live forty five minutes away."

Not too far, but far enough to make this journey entirely futile on his part. She didn't know what game he was playing, but she did know it made her nervous.

"So a man can't travel for work?" He asked, as if that explained everything.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she realised fairly quickly, Michael wasn't going to make this easy. "How did you even know I still lived here?"

It had been years since he'd been had access to her personal space, since he saw her and knew for sure she still was still a resident in the same apartment building.

Years since that final night where he had knocked on her door with so much vigor, tearfully apologising for the biggest sin he'd ever committed ― a mistake which had cost him the love of a good women and the companionship of a great friend.

"I didn't, but I hoped." Awkwaedly straightening out the white t-shirt he wrote beneath a black dress shirt, glimpses of the shy man she once knew surfaced, even as he tried to play it off with a soft laugh. "If a stranger answered, I was going to tell them this was all some elaborate competition and they'd won tickets to my first show or something."

And she knew he was telling her truth. Had someone else opened the door, he would have to explain his presence with some ungodly tale. She wouldn't put it past him to sweetest the story with tickets to the tour that was supposed to start later this year.

"You're an idiot."

"So you say―" he spoke with a playful gleam in the depth of his eyes. "but you haven't slammed the door in my face yet."

Like he had just reminded himself that was a possibility, Michael made quick work to barge past, his shoulder hitting against hers, the touch smoldering as he entered the apartment he once knew like the back of his hand.

From her mouth fell a small gasp in reaction not only in reaction the unexpected contact, but also the audacity he held. If he noticed, he didn't seem to care. Instead, Michael walked around like he owned the place and allowed that damn soft, obsidian gaze of his to fall on their surroundings.

Things were different from the last time he'd been inside the safety of these particular four walls. She'd painted to them from the uninviting beige to a pale shade of dusky blue, the trimmings matched in color while the elaborate framed artworks stood out in a bold, golden hue. The vintage carpet sat on top of the hardwood floors looked like it could've been sold at an antique store and the white sofas and decorative chairs made the space feel larger in size than he knew it to be.

Transformed from a small caterpillar to an extravagant butterfly, her tastes had changed. For a moment, he found it jarring, that perhaps he no longer knew this women at all.

Then his eyes locked onto the large bookshelf standing in the far right corner of the room, overspilling with novels of every genre and that alone comforted him with the knowledge that she wasn't that different after all.

"Hope I'm not intruding." He called over his shoulder once he heard her close the door behind him.

"You are." She muttered in annoyance.

Her words either slid right off him or he chose to ignore them. Either way, he practically danced around the space, plucking a decorative cushion between his palms and expecting the strange patterns. "So, what were you doing before I arrived?" He asked absentmindly, as though this was a regular occurrence for the two of them.

"Well, I was painting..." She huffed, gazing over at the gold clock sitting on the faux fireplace she never used, eyes growing large when her eyes followed the hands. "but I didn't realise what the time was. I should probably make dinner."

"Great." He clapped, rubbing his palms together with a trace of a smirk. "What are we having?"

"I have got to be dreaming."

The words left her mouth before she fully registered what she said exactly, but Michael seemed elated. A prance in his step as he moved close towards her.

"Dream of me often, do you?" He cackled.

"Yeah." She spoke sarcastically. "You pop up in my nightmares."

"You're so mean to me." But even as he said it, his tone held a trace of amusement before he carried the conversation along. "Seriously, what are we eating? I'm starving."

"Well, since I was cooking for myself and hadn't expected such a picky guest, I was going to make spaghet-"

The words hadn't even properly left mouth when Michael suddenly screwed up his face in a manner you would usually only see in a child.

"Yuck!"

Rolling her eyes to the back of her skull, she wondered for a second if she'd woken up in a parallel universe where all of this made sense, but the paint splatter staining her jeans and fingertips told another story.

"Where's Bill?" She found herself asking. "Do I have to call him to drag your ass out of here?"

"Oh, Bill's downstairs." Micahel confessed, rather nonchalant, waving her off before opening up kitchen cupboards and rummaging through her belongings with little care. "Waiting in the car under strict orders not to intrupt."

"Of course he is." She sighed.

People from all different walks of life found it incredibly easy to get lost in the enigma that was Michael Jackson. The stories, the false narratives and the ridiculously malicious rumours that the media spread. He was a myth to some, a legend to others.

But as she observed him from her living room, eagel eyed as he made a mess she would be forced to clean up later, she was reminded that this man wasn't even thirty yet. And like all people in their late twenties, he was restless.

Slamming a cupboard shut, he turned with a scowl, a harsh contrast against his delicate features. "Your kitchen is stocked terribly."

"Excuse me?" She scoffed, eyes wide.

The more he spoke, the easier it was to grow frustrated at his presence. As if him intruding like this, storming the place without so much as a 'can i come in?' wasn't bad enough, now he was insulting the state of her living conditions.

The sound of utensils russling, metal on metal broke her from her thoughts and the view of her former lover rustling through a pile of paper takeout menus felt too real. A sense of deja vu washed over once he turned with a cheeky, dimpled grin.

"I knew you kept it." He practically cheered, triumphantly holding a menu in the air like some kind of grand trophy. "Boy, I haven't eaten from here in years."

Michael wasn't the biggest eater and he was generally pretty picky in day to day life. There were a few exceptions here and there. KFC was was big one. During sints of his life where he would dip into vegetarianism, the chicken you could buy from KFC was his one weakness. He was also a sucker for sweet treats like donuts or maple cookies. He'd eat until he felt sick and still ask for another. But amongst all this, the one thing he craved when in need of actual substance usually came in the form of Mexican cuisine.

His favourite being that of a small family owned restaurant only a block away from the apartment building she called home.

They'd found it once while driving back from a gallery opening and Michael had insisted Bill stop there. They hadn't entered themselves, Michael not wanting to be hounded and unwilling to let her leave his side while he had her, but he did place an order via Bill.

The dishes had been a hit and after their first taste, they'd become frequent patrons while they had been dating.

Since they broken up, she hadn't had the heart to go back.

"What do you say? Shall I give them a call?" Despite asking, he hadn't waited for an answer as his feet crossed the floor so he could reach for the landline.

Probably for the best. She never did have the heart to say no when he looked at her with those large doe eyes.

Half an hour later, the two of them sat opposite one another at her kitchen table and she watched in mild concern as he demolished a dish of spicy red chilie enchiladas like he feared the food would be snatched away if he wasn't quick enough. He stopped only to sip from a glass of orange juice, smiled sheepishly at the women across from him and then returned to his meal.

Through a half hearted bite of her burrito, she couldn't stop herself from asking a question she'd been wondering since she found him at her door.

"Why are you here, Michael?"

He paused momentarily, doe eyed gaze turned towards her pretty face while picking up a napkin to wipe the grease from his fingers and mouth. He coughed once and then leaned back against the chair.

"The other day, I realised something with clarity I've been lacking for years." He admitted, fingers tips tapping a catchy tune against grain of the wooden table top.

"Yes?" She encouraged, pushing her plate away to sip at her glass of water.

"I've surrounded myself with a bunch of people that agree with me."

"Okay." She nodded because that was never a secret.

There were two kind of people in Michael's life. Those that wanted something from him, not caring how it would effect him in the long run. They would overwork and demand more from him until he hit a wall of exhaustion. Vipers, sucking the soul from his very essence without so much as flinching.

Then there were the 'yes men.' Those in his inner circle who agreed and encourage every outlandish idea he ever had, in fear of being ostracised from the holy land, even if saying yes caused harm.

She's always hated both types.

"Don't you get it? I could say the grass is red and they'd nod their heads just to keep me happy." He laughed, though it was devoid of any humour.

Leaning across the table, the tapping never once seizing. With great determination, Michael made sure to keep eye contact with the women across from him, even as she tried her best to avoid it.

"Then there's you." His tone softened. "The moment you told me off for calling you beautiful was so surreal... I wasn't used to it."

That took her by surprise and as she stared at the man she once loved, she caught glimpses as to reasons why.

Before the infidelity, he trusted her entirely, enough to bare his soul as she'd bared her own.

Now it seemed he was hoping to do exactly that, only three years later.

"Okay?" She questioned, brows furrowed.

"I liked it." He laughed and this time he was amused. "And I figured if you're comfortable telling me off at a funeral, you're probably comfortable being honest with me about everything."

From the outside looking in, it would be easy to assume Michael Jackson had it all. The star power and the talent behind to back it up. He had money and status, he could physically buy whatever he desired.

Unless that thing he desired required honesty.

A twinge of sympathy bit at her consciousness, crafting tales of abandonment at her hands after their break up. It was nonsense, of course, staying would have harmed her, but seeing him so vulnerable reminded her that he needed people and sometimes, the company he kept only seemed out to harm him.

If she could help him during this tumultuous spout of conflict then she would.

Wasn't that the right thing to do?

"What do you need an honest opinion for right now?" Reaching over, her hand fell flat against his, stopping the rhythmic tapping he'd absentmindly created.

Michael felt the clenching ache of his own heart.

The physical contact was enough to draw a breath, but the fact that she'd been the one to initiate it was the thing that really sent him over the edge.

As she pulled her hand back, Michael felt a heavy need to resist the impossible urge to physically whimper at the loss of warmth that came from her lack of touch and instead focused on the conversation at hand.

"Tour." The words settled on the tip of his tongue.

A vague flicker of confusion sat across her face. "What about tour?"

"Is it a good idea?" Dropping his gaze, Michael could feel a source of vunerality rising.

Taking a moment to contemplate, a comfortable kind of silence fell over the pair. Her eyes flickered down, catching the slight of Michael nervously tapping his feet ― he never could say still. Eventually her gaze returned to his face, watching the crumbling embers of a fire once ignited struggling to stay ablaze.

"I don't know."

The frustrated sigh he let out wasn't directed towards her, but it still echoed through her apartment and struck deep within.

"What do you mean, you don't know?" He questioned, finally meeting her gaze.

"I mean, the last time we were... close..." She awkwardly started, the idea of their realtionship feeling too taboo to speak of out right. "a solo world tour was your dream." Her voice soft as though approaching a wild animal. "You were so pissed at your brothers and Joseph for making you do that Victory tour."

Michael exhaled softly and then a quite chuckle passed his lips. "Yeah."

There had been a time where he'd been desperate for this opportunity. Now as the dates grew nearer, the rising pressure felt like it had the potential to break him.

"But I know it's a lot. Not just the travel, or the energy it's going to use, but the weight of responsibility that will fall on your shoulders." She continued quietly, not trying to scare him, but not wanting to sugarcoat things either. "That's not even factoring in you lupus nor your insomnia."

The words fell heavy in the room because as much as he wanted to be, Michael had never and would never be able to live like a normal guy his age. There was so much to contemplate and big decisions haunted his darkest night.

Michael let out a low whistle, shaking his head as he spoke. "Wow, you really are honest."

"I'm not saying it to be cruel, but you have a lot to consider." She looked at him properly, seeing fear flicker on his face. "I think you're a natural born performer, but I also think you give a lot of yourself to others and barley leave enough pieces to keep yourself sustained."

No one had ever had the balls to say it like that and Michael knew it to be true. Saying 'no' had never felt like an option and maybe that's why he felt so conflicted.

Refusing to break the fragility of their joint gaze, he felt his fingers pull at a loose thread of his shirt while his heart beat a rapid rhythm against his chest.

"Are you saying I shouldn't do it?"

All she wanted was to help, to give him an answer that would actually spare him anymore torment. He'd dealt with more than she could ever possibly understand and she wanted to protect him, truly she did, but he had to want to protect himself too.

Regardless of how their situation ended, she still found herself caring a great deal about Michael. She probably always would and rather than letting that thought scare her away, she felt oddly at peace with the direction of their realtionship.

"Well, that's for you to decide." She spoke with a soft smile. "I think it would help for you to weigh the pros and cons and decide what's right for you." Her words strong as she tried to ensure what she said would get through to him. "All these people whispering in your ear, I know it's hard to hear, but they don't care about Michael the person. They care about Michael Jackson the brand... but you're more than a selling point."

And that was the crux of it.

Regardless of anything else, the fame, the notoriety or any of the music, he was a human above all else.

She saw that.

She always had.

Michael couldn't prevent the awe-struck look he gave her from settling on his features, the subtle movement of his chest rising slowly beneath layers of clothing being the only thing reminding him that he hadn't conjured this whole thing up in his mind.

There was always this internal conflict Michael found himself facing.

While he hated the repercussions that came with fame, he needed the celebrity status. He craved it for so many reasons, but one stood out amongst the others.

He hated that he grew up in a world where such prejudice run rampant.

As a black man in the industry, he'd seen it first hand, how they were always treated like a novelty act, stolen and stripped of their work and inhibitions. It had sparked something in him and the flames grew bigger as he became older and processed information different.

He could remember it vividly. Sitting down and watching a news segment where he witnessed a group of white kids being raised and welcomed into the KKK. It had made him sick to his stomach. Who would allow this for their children? He couldn't imagine, but he didn't have to because he had saw it happening with his own eyes.

What had really been the kicker came to him when he realised all that had happened on Martin Luther King Jr's birthday and that alone felt like a sick, ironic twist of fate - a real kick in the teeth for not just him, but every black person breathing the same air.

How was it possible he lived in a world like that?

Micahel loved all races and in a mission to prove his own deserved to be treated with the same respect his white counter parts were given by simply existing, his ambition clawed it's way to the forefront and never quite let go.

Thriller became the best selling album of all time, not on a whim, but by design. The anger had been the fuel to drive him forward. No black artist had ever been allowed to make it on MTV, so he made an album impossible to ignore with music videos to captivate an eager audience. Eventually, they had no choice but to air his work and slowly, he inched the door open for other acts to follow his lead.

If white people hadn't saw black heros before, they certainly would now.

But as the fame festefed, his ambition grew. It wasn't enough. He wanted to be the biggest star on the planet and he wanted to better himself with each album cycle.

Maybe the tour wouldn't be so bad after all.

"I want to prove myself, to be great." He admitted. "I want to do shows and have people leave saying, 'wow, I've never seen anything like that before. He's a real star.'"

The smile she gave in return to his confession beamed brighter than any star he'd ever seen before.

She was proud of him and knew he had it in himself to show the world what a true showman he could be, if that's something he really wanted to do.

"Then do it, but do it for yourself not these creeps using you for God knows what."

And what happened next in the slow moments filled with the sound melodic laughter he gifted her was enough to bloom a whole garden of flowers.

"You think I can do it?"

"Yes." She replied instantly. "I know you can."

It was the way in which she said it, no hesitation, just utter belief in him as a person. A trust of likes he'd always longed for.

Observing her up close, completely still as the beginning navy blues of night began to creep through the windows, he found himself lost in time, where she had once been his and he would never have to worry about distance between them.

As the years passed by, the memories of their time together faded, not completely, but consistent. There had been moments shortly after their break up where Michael would cry himself to sleep, knowing he'd lost someone who loved him without exceptions.

But like they say, time really does heal all wounds.

The tears eventually stopped and as life got busy, he barley thought about the plethora of memories he shared with this women.

Then she just had to attend that funeral, didn't she?

Damn it, Oscar. Why'd you do this to him?

Upon seeing her, a hoard of memories surfaced like a crescendo, impossible to ignore and far too beautiful to pretend he hadn't noticed.

Looking at her now, he was reminded of his betrayal, the pain he'd caused and the cracking ache of her voice over the phone asking him if it was true.

Guilt swarmed.

So much so that he knew needed to say something if there was any chance of keeping her in his life for good this time.

"You know, I've made a bunch of mistakes..." His voice soft as he broke through the silence. "I've made a lot of dumb decisions and put my trust in the wrong kind of people," understatement of the century. "but I have to say, what I did to you haunts me the most."

Eyes growing wide, she very quickly caught on to where this conversation was heading and began to shake her head in a desperate attempt to stop it.

"Mike... let's not do this."

"No, I have to say it." He argued, looking down where his hands sat folded in his lap. "We never really got closure... you never let me talk to you after the phone call."

And it was true.

After that faithful phone call that sealed the breakdown of their relationship, he'd shown up at her door six hours later, but Michael's stubbornness hadn't let him stop there.

He'd called, left letters, had tried to catch her at work. Somehow, she had managed to expertly dodge every attempt.

After a while, he got the message: she didn't want to see him anymore.

Shaking her head, her eyes narrowed in his direction. "That's not fair."

"Hey, I'm not blaming you." He promised, holding his hands out in surrender. "I underatand why you didn't, but... I guess I've always wanted to see you face to face and tell you that, you never deserved it." Honesty laced every word. He needed her to understand. "You were good to me, maybe too good and I didn't appreciate it enough at the time."

If only she knew how much he valued it now.

Bravely lifting his gaze, he found her already looking at him with a somewhat mournful expression. "That's my fault. I never want you to look back at what happened between us and think that you weren't enough for me because truthfully, I think I might not have been enough for you."

"That's not true." She said in an instant, head shaking in disbelief that he would ever consider that as a possibility.

"I'm sorry." Michael spoke with such earnest. He finally had the opportunity to say it in person and he'd be damned if she didn't feel the weight of his regret. "I'm so sorry for the entire thing. You're one of the few people that never wanted anything from me... I think the most you asked for was a stupid postcard while I was touring." Humming with a soft laugh, his brows softened. "You have to know, the time I spent with you was some of the happiest of my life. I was so lucky back then. Hell, I'm lucky now that you're even letting me sit here."

"You kinda gave me no choice." She quirked, the beginnings of a smile cruved against her mouth. "You barged past me."

"Yeah." He laughed, cheeks turning pink. "I guess I did."

With the sound of his laughter trailing off, they were left in a beat of silence, the only sound breaking it being the familiar ticking of a clock.

She could see it now. The sorrow that plagued his eyes ― big, sad and wide.

Back then, part of the reason she hadn't wanted to see him in person to hear him out was due to the unfair upper hand he always had whenever he looked at her.

Just a brief glance and she was putty in his hand.

She cut off contact, not to be cruel, but in a desperate attempt to protect herself and maybe that had been selfish, but she wouldn't apologise for doing what she needed to do in order to survive.

After a minute of silence, she finally found the courage to break it.

"Thank you."

"Huh?" Michael breathed, head tilted.

"For what you said." She hummed innocently, hands wrapping around her water glass. "I appreciate it."

"It's the least I could do."

Taking a generous gulp of water, she watched as Michael did the same with his orange juice and wondered if much like her, he'd only taken a sip to have something to do with his hands.

Letting her glass touch back down on the table, she leaned forward, arms to the wood grain while his eyebrows pulled together.

"For what it's worth, I never thought you were a bad person."

"No?" He spoke shyly, scratching the back of his neck.

"No." She found herself repeating. "Misguided? Definitely, but you care about everything. I think that's why you're so sad."

"I'm not sad." He snapped.

The thing with Michael was, if he felt like he was being called out or attacked, he would immediately enter defence mode. It was the only way he knew to protect himself.

Leaning back against her chair, eyes narrowed, but not unkind, she sighed a heavy sigh and shrugged.

"Yes, you are." She persisted and watched as Michael rolled his eyes back. "And you're lonely. You're so scared of being used or of getting hurt, so you don't let people know the real you."

"You know me." He muttered softly, holding onto the words like a lifeline.

"I think I did..." she nodded. "once."

And it hurt to hear.

"What?" Michael scoffed bitterly. "You think I've changed?"

The very idea made his skin crawl. He didn't want to be different, didn't want to get older. He hated every reminder that he was.

"Everyone changes." She spoke, rising to her feet and making her way into the living room. "That's the nature of being human."

"I'm scared." His voice soft low, he wondered if she heard.

With little thought, he found himself following her actions as he walked across the apartment and sat beside her on the sofa, shoulders brushing in close proximity.

"Scared of what?" Her voice a whisper as she turned her face.

"Everything." He simply confessed. "People around me keep saying that these are the best years of my life."

"You don't think agree?"

"I don't know." Laughing without really meaning it, Michael felt sick with all he carried. "Every day it seems like there's a new story about me. That I want to be white, or that I sleep in some kind of hyperbaric chamber. They say I'm obsessed with Elizabeth Taylor and even that Janet and I are the same person."

"I can attest there's definitely nothing womanly about you." She teased, playfully nudging her elbow into his rib.

"Shut up."

That pretty laugh of his rose, inflicting a giggle of her own. For a moment they were at peace, alone in her apartment where nothing scary could touch either of them.

Childishly, Michael picked up one of the many pillows off the sofa and hit her with it, laughing harder as she gapsed, snatching the cushion from his grasp to whack him back.

"Truce!" He pleaded, hands held out, hoping for mercy.

"Okay, truce." She chuckled, throwing the pillow back down and then atmosphere turned serious once more. "Okay, I'm sorry, you were saying?"

The sudden weight of heavy conversation came rushing back and with a dismissive sigh, Michael threw himself backwards. The view of the white ceiling doing nothing to quell the tention in his shoulders.

"It's just a lot, I guess." Shurgging, he didn't know what else to say.

"I'm never going to fully understand, Mike, but I know you're suffering. Art shouldn't require sacrifice despite what all the greats say." She spoke quietly. "You don't deserve this."

"Sometimes I consider running away." Michael sat up, looking towards her to see her reaction.

"I understand why you would." She spoke like it was simple. "Though, it would be a shame."

"What makes you say that?"

She took a moment, a brief pause to fully evaluate what she would say next. Breathing in deep, she found herself looking at him properly.

So much had changed over the years, but he still felt every bit as real as he always had.

"I don't know. Los Angeles is full of opportunists. Everyone is out for what they can get, not caring who they hurt in the process." She began. "I guess living here doesn't feel so hopeless when I know someone as caring as you lives close. It would be a shame for you to leave, but I understand why you would want to."

"I've never fully thought it trough."

"If you can dream it, you can do it."

His face softened significantly. She hadn't really said much, but what she had said meant something to him. For the first time in years, he could imagine an existence where the media wasn't constantly beating him down, where he could live a relatively normal existence while simultaneously carving a path for himself if he tried hard enough.

Nightfall descended and while it wasn't too late, the pale silver glow from the moonlight flickered across her face, illuminating her soft features so beautifully, for a moment, he found himself wondering if she was actually real or a figment of imaginination his desperate mind had conjured just to keep him sane.

She smiled over to him and he swore, for a minute, his heart had completely stopped. It wasn't just the familiairy of her anymore, he wanted her in ways he couldn't fathom, so he wasn't really thinking as he leaned in.

Inching closer, feeling her breath against his lips and feeling like a man dying of thrist, finally being granted a huge sip of water. Gaze falling to the soft pillows of her lips, he let his eyes flutter close while closing the gap.

Right as his lips were about to meet the sweet, heavenly taste of her, he felt a force pushing him back.

Snapping out of the haze, his eyes flew open and landed on the face of anger, her hands still against his chest where she'd forced him away.

She could hardly believe it.

Was he really going to kiss her just like that?

Frustration grew.

She knew she shouldn't have trusted him. Give a man an inch and he takes a mile. She should've known he was up to no good the moment he charged in uninvited.

"What are you doing?" She hissed, jumping to her feet in an attempt to create as much distance between them as she possibly could. Her heart beating so fast, she could hear her pulse in her ear.

"Nothing." Michael panicked, rising to his feet as he tried to step towards her, face falling when she immediately stepped back. "I'm sorry."

The irony hearing him say this for the second time in such a short time frame shouldn't have amused her the way it did.

"You can't just kiss me and pretend everything is okay."

"Okay, I know. I'm sorry." His eyes wide, pleading for a forgiveness he wasn't sure he deserved.

"You're sorry?" She scoffed.

"I am."

This whole thing was a disaster from beginning to end. He had come here for a conversation and how he'd realised what a mess he'd created and there was no way for him to clean it up.

"What am I to you?" Running shaking fingers haphazardly through her hair, she found it hard to seperate what had just happened to the breakdown of what had been their realtionship. "Am I some sort of temporary distraction you use when the world gets too loud?"

"No-"

He tried, she could give him that. He really had attempted to speak up, but she couldn't hear anymore excuses and cut him off before he could say anything else.

"You should go."

The words were cold.

Final.

Unwilling to let it fade so easily, Michael called her name so soft, she almost caved. He looked so pitiful, devastated at the prospect of leaving and never seeing her again. It was almost enough to make her forgive him.

But she couldn't do this anymore.

"Please, go."

Crestfallen and full of regret, Michael looked around the room, his breathing shaky and knees feeling weak.

He didn't want this, but he also didn't want to upset her more than he already had.

With a final apology falling from his lips, he stepped back and walked straight out her door, down the stairs and back the car where Bill was waiting.

"You were gone a while." His bodyguard joked. "I guess that's a good sign."

Michael didn't so much as smile back.

He simply lifted a pair of black aviators over his eyes and crawled into the back seat.

"Take me home, please."

A couple days passed since the almost kiss and her simmering anger quietly faded into a wall of uncertainty.

Had she have known that was how the night ended, she would've never entertained Michael in the first place. She wasn't totally innocent here. She'd let him in and perhaps old emotions had surfaced.

It was hard to expell a feeling when it never fully disappeared in the first place.

What they had and what they'd shared had been a monumental step in adult life. Her first real taste of an adult realtionship and if she were being honest with herself, it was the one she compared every other relationship she'd to.

Until the whole Diana incident, they'd been happy.

Michael, while not always fully able to physcially be in the same state as her, never failed to smothered her with love and affection. She'd never felt so valued or cared for until he came along to sweep her off her feet.

He'd made it easy to love him and she was all but too happy to fall.

Maybe that's why she hadn't protested when he walked in her apartment.

Whatever inner conflict she had, she'd decided to ignore it. He was gone now and it was probably for the best.

With her legs tucked beneath her, she found herself sitting comfortable on her sofa, book in hand as she felt herself submitting to another world.

In literature, there were no worries. If a book stressed her out too much, she could put it down and pick up another that fit her needs. She liked that, the ease in which she could find peace in the words of an author she's never even met.

Her latest watercolor scenes for the children's bunny novel had been sent for approval and now she had to wait, so she distracted herself with unfamiliar titles and found herself wondering why particular writers failed to gain the notoriety they deserved.

The fantasy genre still called her name and she found herself clinging to every word as a delicate balance of another life formed around her.

She wasn't aware how long she had been reading, but she knew she was close to the end, the climax building, the tensions high and she'd placed her bets on how the story would close once she'd finished the second chapter.

Flicking the page, her eyes carefully scanned the text with an intensity that grew with the promise of a final chapter nearing.

Before she got there, a deverstating knock kicked her out of the enchanted land and back to the mundane apartment she called home.

Frustration came in waves, but deciding not to let it ruin her mood, she placed the book down where she'd sat and moved to the door.

Checking the peep hole, mild confusion settled across her features when the sight of an unfamiliar person greeted her.

A man, standing at 5'9, 5'10 at a push, silm but strong dressed in layers. A white t-shirt peaked out from underneath red flannel shirt and over the top of that sat a dark bomber style jacket. He wore a dark wash of jeans, some beat up sneakers and had a pair of oversized, brown sunglasses covering his eyes.

In terms of face, the glasses did a good job at hiding most of it, but she could see the grown out attempt of a mustache, a set of crooked teeth and a vague idea of an afro tucked beneath a cap with a set of overgrown sideburns spilling out the sides.

An irrational part of her mind told her not to answer, that she could pretend not to be home, she didn't know this man or his intentions.

But a kinder, more polite side of her brain rationalised that this might be a neighbour she hadn't met yet and that thought had been the driving force to make her open the door.

"Hello." She smiled politely, keeping the door open only a slither so she could quickly close it if she felt uncomfortable. "Can I help you?"

Shuffling on his feet, the man easily kept his hands behind his back but offered a toothy grin. "Yes, hi." The voice low and with a hint of an accent she couldn't recognise. "I just moved into the building and was wondering, do you know where the laundry room is?"

"The laundry room?" She questioned, but nodded. "Yeah, it's down on the basement floor. You can take the elevator, but honestly, that old thing is so slow, if you can manage, I would just take the stairs."

"Is that right?"

She nodded, finding this whole conversation to be slightly on the strange side since she was sure this would've been convered when he'd settled his lease, but she was far too polite to close the door in his face.

"I'm from a large family you see." Despite the fact she hadn't asked, he started explaining his background. "Lots of brothers and sisters. It's my first time living alone."

"Oh, right." She replied, not really seeing the relevance, but understanding he might just need a friend. "Well, welcome to the building."

"Thank you very much." He beamed.

"I'll see you around?"

Without answering, he shuffled on his feet and then stopped still. "Just one more question?"

"Okay." Her voice soft as she clung to the edge of her door, peaking out from behind. "Shoot."

"Do they allow pets here?"

"Oh no. I'm sorry, Sir, this building is particularly strict about that." She confessed with a slight pout of her own, the rule having always seemed particularly harsh to her.

"Oh, 'cause you see... I have this uh... this chimpanzee, and well, I can't leave him unattended."

At that her body froze. Suddenly her eyes zoned in, attempting her hardest to bypass the shadow the glasses left, behind the mustache and those ridiculous mutton chops.

A gasp tore through her throat and then she let out a long, shaky breath, whispering as she spoke. "Michael, is that you?"

There was silence for moment.

Then a distinct chuckle, bending slightly at the hip, no longer able to keep his compsure. Looking through the orange hued lenses, he stepped forward and nodded to confirm her suspicions.

"Yeah... it's me." He dropped the accent and his normal voice suddenly returned.

She rolled her eyes back, lips settled into a firm line. "You're so annoying!" She huffed. "Why are you here? Dressed like that, no less."

"Sorry." Spurts of laughter continued to fall. "I got you good, right? I should venture into acting next."

"Yeah, you try that." She huffed, moving to close the door.

"Wait!" He called in desperation, all traces of humour wiped off his unrecognisable face. "I'm sorry. I came to apologise and well, it's hard sneaking out in daylight, so I'm trying out to new disguise."

With the arch of a brow, she looked him over one last time. "You're telling me you came here alone?"

"Lord, no." He replied easily. "Bill's downstairs in case things get dicey."

"Right."

Tention hung between them, uncomfortable but not entirely unbearable.

Clearing his throat, Michael finally brought his hands back in front of him to show a bouquet of beautiful peonies, ranging from bright purples to brilliant pinks, clutched between his fingers.

"I wanted to apologise for the other night. I know I went too far, I got carried away and I'm truly, very sorry about the whole thing." He sounded sincere, nervous almost as he bounced on the balls of his feet. "Do you... uh... accept my apology?"

She contemplated for a only a moment, but it was enough for her to see the inner conflict happening in his mind. With a dramatic sigh, she opened her door wider and reached for the pretty bouquet.

"I guess... just this once." She smiled, leaning in to get a good smell of the sweet florals. "Thank you for the flowers. I love them."

"I knew you would." He smiled and she was taken back by how weird it was to talk to Michael face to face and not have those pearly whites beaming in her direction. Whatever false teeth he wore were extremely convcing.

"You know, it's a pity you live in an apartment. I know how much you enjoy nature. You deserve a huge garden where you could plant whatever flowers you want." He mused outloud, not really thinking before he spoke.

"Now, that would be quite the life, wouldn't it?" She hummed and stepped back. "Do you... want to come in?"

Hesitation formed, a hint of surprise lingered, like he wasn't sure if she'd meant it or not.

Once he realised she hadn't taken it back, he nodded fast and stepped forward. "Uh... yeah, that'd be great."

Stepping back into her space, Michael found himself once again looking at her blue walls, listening carefully to her feet shuffling through the space to find a vase to home her new flowers.

"By the way, you really need to be more cautious about strange men walking up to your door, girl." The thought hit him suddenly and then he couldn't stop himself from talking. "What were you doing, opening up to this?" He indicated to himself, disbelief painting his words.

Filling the vase with water, she looked over her shoulder with a dramatic huff. "Don't judge me. You're the idiot who knocked. I thought you might have needed help."

He paused for a moment, watching her with a flicker of a grin teasing his lips. She'd barley spoke and he already felt lighter.

After a busy day juggling his management drama, tour conflicts and finalising a set list, speaking with someone about something so simple eased the tention from his shoulders.

"Didn't we watch hundreds of horror movies together?" He hummed, eyes following her as she moved across the room. "You know what usually happens to the pretty girl who's foolish enough to open the door."

"Uh-Huh." She laughed, leaning back against her kitchen counter with her legs crossed and arms folded over her chest. "They usually have this really dull monologue or they stare for about five minutes straight before getting the sense to run, but by that point, it's far too late."

"Exactly." He snapped his fingers. "Are you trying to be like one of those girl?"

"Well, no. My monologue would be so enticing, the killer would change his mind and ask me to tell him other worldy tales instead."

A scoff of disbelief passed his lips, eyes narrowed behind his lenses. "You play too much."

"Well, not everything has to be so serious." She shrugged, enjoying the lighthearted nature of the conversation compared to how things ended a few nights before.

Using her hands to push herself forwards, she softly approached the vague figure she knew to be Michael, but recognised to be someone completely different.

No one had prepared her for how trippy it would be to hear his voice and see a complete stranger looking back.

"So, what's with the get up." She nodded towards him and smiled as Michael jokingly twirled, giving her a full 360 view of the generic outfit laying flat against his body.

For someone who usually dressed like he could be called to a runway any moment, it was hard to imagine him picking through this particular set clothes, but then again, she understood that was the point.

Rubbing his hands together, Michael leaned back on the balls of his feet, rocking in exciement. "There's this music store a few blocks over I've been wanted to check out." He spoke happily. "Thought this would stop people from recognising me and well, you didn't, so it much be pretty great."

"Oh, so you're not using this disguise as a poor attempt to seduce me then." She teased, a playful smirk matching the gleam in her eyes.

Michael felt his eyes widen, his mouth fall open and the heat rise against his flesh. The tips of his ears had turned pink and he shyly stuttered through his reply. "W-well... n-no. Of course not." Casting a glance downward, Michael tried to preserve whatever dignity he had left.

If it were possible, the smirk she wore grew wider as she unashamedly stared right at him. Watching in mild amusement as the nervous boy she had once known began surface. Flustered and refusing to meet her gaze, you would never think this to be the man to get up on stages and wow crowds of people with his intoxicating voice and erotic dance moves.

She nodded as though she believed him and felt the small laugh rise out her throat. "Right." She muttered, a casual mocking tone lingered.

"Stop looking at me like that." Micahel muttered, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

She laughed again and the sound was so pretty, he finally chanced a glance up and offered a crooked smile as a fair trade.

"Anyway..." Michael began, cautiously stepping towards her, not wanting to overstep boundaries like he had a couple nights prior. "did you want to, maybe, come with me?"

"To the music store?"

Michael eagerly nodded, assuring her that he walked around in disguise from time to time and no one usually spotted him. They'd be totally safe. Bill would drive them and stay relatively close by on the off chance things got out of hand.

Hands on hips, she analysed the situation.

On one hand, they were playing in uncharted territory. Whatever existed between them still lingered and maybe it wasn't wise to spend so much time with Michael. Still finding it hard to fully place her trust in him despite her emotions clawing at her to relax and let go.

On the other hand, she had always felt at ease in his company. She enjoyed the light hearted conversation, the way he could make her laugh with minimal effort and all the hardships life threw their way would fade as soon as they spent any time together.

She'd made up her mind.

A soft hum passed her lips, eyeing Michael in temporary amusement. "You're not going to try and kiss me again, are you?" She teased.

Michael let out a shy laugh, rubbing his jaw with his long fingers. "I'll try my best to resist."

Despite not saying much, those words said everything.

Not that he didn't want to or promised that he wouldn't, but he'd try and keep himself from doing it. Which lead her to believe, he would very much consider kissing her again if the moment felt right.

With the rapid beating of her heart, she suddenly realised, she didn't know if she should be elated or terrified by that idea.

With the sound of her pulse thudding in her ears, her smile softened into something sweet. "Yeah, well, you better keep those nasty teeth away from me."

As she moved to grab a jacket off the coat stand she kept near the door, Michael's eyes followed her steps, analysing every miniscule movement like a biologist with a microscope.

It wasn't often he was taken back by the motion of another. Being as fluid as he was, it took a lot to impress him. But this wasn't just anyone, this was her and she didn't simply move, she glided like she could take off any moment and fly if she really wanted to.

Eyes lingering, catching faint splotches of browns and reds staining the light wash jeans. He chuckled, mainly because he knew her and this wasn't out of the ordinary.

"Girl, don't you wanna change before you leave?" He hummed in amusement. "You're covered in paint."

With a faux expression of insult, she let out a small scoff. "Oh, I know you did not just say that when you look like you're moments away from selling cattle to a meat market."

Micahel's jaw dropped and soon a euphoric laugh followed, shaking his head as he followed her out the door.

"I'll have you know, that's against my code now." He hummed and he watched her lock the door. "I'm trying the whole vegetarian thing out again."

"Nobel." She muttered, turning the key and then moving to stand in front of Michael, gently pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose to cover those distinctive eyes. Too recognisable. Too risky. "Let's see how long that lasts when you realise there's a KFC across the street from this store you want to visit so bad."

She was right of course and he knew it. But rather than giving her the glory of admitting it, Michael stayed quite.

Eyes growing wide as she walked past, he quickly followed down the stairs, vaguely remembering what she'd said about the elevator and how slow it was. For as long as he's known her, she had always opted to take the stairs and up until now, he's never thought much about it.

Once outside, she seemed fairly confident in her footsteps.

Crossing the lot in long strides, she walked straight towards the burgundy, 1985 Mercedes Benz. A flashy car, but she supposed it made sense for the kind of person who played passenger in the back seat despite having his own drivers licence.

"How'd you know it was this one?" Michael found himself asking, absentmindly he reached out to open the back door and nodding as a way to encourage her to get in.

"Are you kidding me?" She laughed, eyeing the other cars surrounding them. "Do you see anyone else in this building driving anything this expensive?' She didn't wait for a reply, instead she ducked her head and slid inside knowing he would immediately follow.

Which he did.

Rolling his eyes, Michael closed the door behind him after sliding into the backseat, finding her already leaning forward to greet his bodyguard with a kind grin.

"Hello again, Bill." She chimed, eyes bright and cheeks flushed from the cold air. "We really have to stop meeting like this. People will start talking."

Bill chuckled, turning his head and showing her a kind grin. "Tell him that, kid." He nodded towards Michael, sitting against the leather seats in that ridiculous disguise. "He'd convince me to drive through hell if he thought you might be there."

"Now that's a scary thought."

"Bill, stop." Michael groaned, hands covering his face, hiding his rosey cheeks from indulgent eyes. "You're embarrassing me."

"Sorry, Mike." Informal now they were in a safe space, like they were close, because they were. Bill chuckled, not sorry at all as he began to pull out of the parking lot. "Still wanna see that music store?"

Michael hummed in acknowledgment, huffing back in his seat when he caught her eye and noticed the spark of mischief he'd always adored.

The drive was smooth despite the LA traffic, filled with mainly idle chatter and the brief pause of conversation when Michael got carried away, humming captivating melodies along to the radio. Unable to sit still, he either tapped a tune against this thigh or moved his foot to the rhythm.

It made a fascinating watch. He'd always been this way inclined. Like music flowed through him. He didn't have to be in the studio to appreciate a hymn and he didn't need to scribble down lyrics to create a session. He simply was all of the above.

The drive passed relatively quick, but in that time she found herself eyeing the man beside her more and more and thought to herself how lucky she was to be trusted enough to see Michael Jackson in such a relaxed state, even if that same Michael Jackson was wearing a fake mustache and a pair of buck teeth.

As the car came to a smooth stop, the three of them opened individual doors and stepped forward. Michael moved towards Bill while straightening out one of his many layers.

"Can you stay back a little please, Bill?" He muttered, not wanting to draw attention.

"Of course, Mister Jackson. You won't even know I'm there."

With a sniff nod, Michael gave the older man a grateful smile and then rounded the car to walk besides the girl currently occupied, reading flyers in the store window.

It wasn't that he didn't enjoy Bill's company. On the contrary, he adored the man. In a world where his biological father caused so much misery, Bill was the one to fill the void. After all the years they's spent side by side, Bill had never one broke his trust, sold a story or looked at Michael like he was anything more than human. Truthfully, he didn't know what he would do without him.

But like all men, he didn't want a fatherly figure looming over his shoulder while he made a desperate attempt to try and to reconnect with a women who changed his entire world.

"What are you looking at?" He found himself muttering, following her gaze to a small pink advertisement for guitar lessons. "You looking to become the next Van Halen or something?"

"Nah." She laughed. "I thought maybe you could actually learn how to play an instrument or two." She teased, giggling softly when Michael's face turned stoic. In a swift movement, he turned towards her and nudged her shoulder with the a single finger. "I'm kidding." Though the laugh persisted. "The name caught me off guard is all. 'Guitar guru.' How humble."

Michael chuckled and stepped forward, casually offering an elbow, half expecting her to deny the gesture. Instead, she spared him a soft grin and looped her arm through his as he opened the store door and they stepped inside.

The smell of vinyl filled the air, colorful posters and pristine records lined the walls and shelves. To keep the intimate ambience, the store played an old Lionel Richie track and the man working his shift looked towards them once the bell above the door chimed. For a painful moment, she thought the worst when he gaze became more intense.

He must have recognised Michael.

They were seconds way from this trip becoming a whole spectacle and they'd be forced to run as fast as their legs could carry them back to the car.

She held her breath, waiting for the shoe to drop.

Only it never came.

The young man simply nodded in a simple greeting and then went back to counting money in the cash register.

Sighing in relief, she hadn't noticed Michael's amused grin, but she did feel the pull when he directed her through the aisles. Despite never stepping foot in the space before, he seemed to know his away around.

Keeping his promise, Bill flanked the pair from a distance and with the speed of an olympian, Michael b-lined straight towards the stacked 'M' section.

Slender fingers flickered through the albums, stopping only as they found the ones detailing his own name.

"You're such a narcissist." She spoke quietly against his ear with a small scoff, not quite believing this was the reason he dragged her here.

"I'm just checking they're here." Michael hummed, not paying much attention with gaze turned downward, looking down at his own face staring back against a white background.

In fact, he hadn't noticed much of anything until he felt the sudden loss of her warmth from his arm.

Head snapping up, he quickly caught sight of her only a few paces away, fingers pressed against the 'Madonna' section.

"Girl, what are you doing?" He huffed, stepping closer to inspect the album cover. The sepia coloring and intense seductive gaze of Like A Virgin greeted him and Michael fought back an impolite grimace. "What you looking at this for? You should really have more refined taste by now."

"I'm sorry, 'refined taste?'" She laughed, looking over her shoulder with her lips curved into a small grin. "Wasn't she sitting on your lap in '84 after one of the Victory tour shows?" Her voice quite to not draw attention to other shoppers, but Michael heard it well enough.

Behind his glasses, his eyes grew wider and he didn't need to look in a mirror to know he was blushing.

"W-what?" He suttered.

"Yeah." She mused in amusement. "I remember seeing it in all the papers the next day."

At the time, it hadn't been very long since their break up. The image of him with another woman opened a still raw wound and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't regretfully wished ill will on the pop superstar at the time.

In fact, she could vividly remember crumpeling that exact page in the palm of her hands before tossing it in the trash like the photograph had personally offended her.

As irrational as it had been, she was angry. Michael seemed completely fine filling the void she'd left with other, more established women while she'd been at home, trying not to cry every time one of his songs haunted her through the radio.

What had been her own personal hell now came back round, but not to haunt her. Instead it terrorised him and she took great delight in the distraught look the reminder had brought upon his face.

"That was nothing." Michael insisted, his voice dropping an octave as if to get his point across.

"Sure." She gave a less than believable smile and the nodded, fingering the titles of albums she'd never listened to. "Whatever you say."

With a huff, Michael pinched her waist provoking a small gasp, one she tried to hide with her hand as she stepped back from him, her eyes narrowed dangerously like she was warning him she was only seconds away from retaliating.

"I'm being serious." He huffed. "Don't go spreading that around."

"Right, because I'm known for going to the tabloids." She rolled her eyes, words dripping in sarcasm.

In reality, she'd never so much as had her name out there.

Even while she had been dating Michael during the height of Thriller, she'd stayed relatively out of sight. There might have been a photo of two floating around in some trashy, celebrity magazine with her standing close to the enigmatic star the world had fallen in love with, but her name was never mentioned.

Michael had been careful. He wanted keep her safe, his label wanted her to remain a secret for the sake of selling the single image and frankly, she just wanted her privacy.

She had no interest in becoming front page news and she definitely wasn't about to selling someone out for a quick buck.

"No, I know you aren't." Michael stepped closer, hand resting on her shoulder, soft but grounding. "I wasn't insinuating that."

Time stood still, his touch still burnt like it had all those years ago. Not in a way that made her flinch, but in a manner that warmed her from the inside out.

If she was honest, it pissed her off that even after all the time that had passed, he still had some kind of hold over her.

With a sniff nod, she stepped back, but offered a smile as compensation once his hand fell back to his side.

"Lets look for something else." She mused, trying to steer the conversation into a safer direction. "I wonder if they have any Tchaikovsky or Debussy around here."

Michael's love for their compositions were of little surprise to those who knew him and behind the brown shades, his eyes gleamed in acknowledgment. With a stuble grin, he was actually touched that she remembered so much about him.

They might have only dated a year, but it had certainly made an impression on both of then.

With little thought, his feet followed her direction into the classic section and soon she convinced him they should seperate to cover more ground.

He would search for Tchaikovsky while she's scour the section Debussy should be housed. Seperate mission which would ultimately lead the the same goal where they'd meet up to compare what they'd uncovered.

So engrossed in his own search, Michael had been far too distracted to look at his surroundings. For once he felt safe with the knowledge that no one would discover him, elbows deep in vinyl records and it was nice feeling.

With his focus somewhere else, he lost track of the women he's entered the store with. He wasn't worried. He knew she was okay, she wouldn't have wandered too far, but then he heard a familiar laugh that his nerves on end.

Head rising at the speed of lightening, he was quick to evaluate his surroundings and it wasn't long until his eyes found the shape of her body. She looked exactly as she had when she left him, the only difference being the tall, overgrown lummox of a man standing too close, making direct physical contact with a hand pressed against her lower back.

Now Michael tried not to make a habit out of jealousy. It was a terrible, ugly emotion and he hated the way it made him feel.

Living the life he did, most people thought he was exempt from expierencing the green eyed monster, but it couldn't be further from the truth.

As he watched the lingering touch and shared conversation, a pit formed in the depth of his stomach. If he'd eaten anything in the past hour, he was almost certain his body would be regurgitating to rid himself of the toxins that came from witnessing another man invade her personal space.

He couldn't take it.

Michael stepped forward, classic compositions forgotten in the face of envy and as he approached, he only caught the tail end of the conversation.

"... of course. I'm really happy you liked it."

Her smile bright and wide, so deverstatingly beautiful and he absolutely despised not being on the reciving end.

Standing in front of her, a man towered her frame, indulging himself far too much with her company and loving every ounce of attention she gave him.

"Not intruppting anything, am I?" Michael asked, his voice deep in an attempt to conceal his identity.

Turning towards him, wide eyed, but not unwelcome, she flashed Michael a small grin and shook her head. "No, not at all."

Nodding carefully, Michael stood right beside her, leaving barley a hair width space between them. If she had been uncomfortable with his presence, she certainly didn't show it.

"Oh, sorry. I should introduce the two of you." Hitting her head gently with the heel of her palm, the way she presented herself was always so endearing. Turning towards Michael, her eyes shined bright. "This is Rick. He's the author of the children's book I'm currently illustrating."

Rasing a brow, Michael nodded in understanding. Suddenly the familiairy of their conversation made sense, her feeling comfortable in the presence of this man wasn't odd because he wasn't a stranger to her.

Michael had always adored her chosen career path. Not only was she talented, but she used that talent as a way to connect to children, to enrich lives and with her illustrations, a love for the written word was encouraged. He should be happy that she'd been given this opportunity and he was, he really was happy to know she was thriving. Then he looked over at Rick.

And part of him seethed.

Because it wasn't that simple. Illustrating his book meant that they had spent time together before.

"That's... nice." Michael hesitated, but ultimately decided was happy she was doing something she loved. He had always thought she was too talented for her own good.

Besides, the idea of Rick writing children's novels hadn't shadow him in a sense of insecurity. While he was writing cute tales kids would enjoy for a short period of life, Michael had been writing critically acclaimed albums those same kids would remember for decades to come.

They weren't the same.

With a small gasp, she turned to the blonde and Michael suddenly decided no man his age should have hair that bright. They couldn't be trusted.

"Oh, Rick, this is my friend-" her words fell flat, sudden realisation that she couldn't introduce him by his actual name. She stuttered for a moment and from the outside, it might have simply seemed like she's misplaced it, but she soon recovered with a shy kind of smile. "uh, Peter."

At the sound of his favourite characters name falling from her lips, Michael felt a warmth flood through him. To anyone else, it was a simple alias, to him it was a beacon of hope.

"Peter?" Rick questioned, his gaze falling to the figure beside her like he was trying to make sense of something. "It's nice to meet you." He husked, holding out a hand in a friendly greeting.

For a beat too long, Michael simply looked at the man, not moving an inch until suddenly he felt a sharp blow to his ribs. She'd elbowed him and looked over with a sharp glare.

Recovering quick, he cleared his throat and then carelessly shook hands. "Yeah, nice to meet you too... I guess." Eyeing him suspiciously.

Rick's own eyes narrowed in confusion. "Do I know you from somewhere? You look really familiar."

Blood running cold, she immediately tried to close out this conversation. "I brought him to Linda's office once." She lied, sighing in relief as Rick faked recognition. "Sorry, Rick. We have plans for the rest of the day, so we're going to have to go."

"So soon?" He questioned, almost stepping closer like he didn't want to see the back of her.

"Yep." Michael interrupted, circling a possessive arm over her waist. "No time to stay and chat. It was nice to see you. Bye, Dick."

"It's Rick."

Before she could even say goodbye, he found himself pulling her towards the door where Bill stood in wait, suddenly no longer caring for music store he had once been so excited to step into.

Once outside, she ripped herself away from his grasp and pushed against his shoulder. Michael turned to her just as she folded her arms across her chest, seething in disappointment.

"What the hell was that?" She shouted in a whisper, her gaze cold as distant as she turned to face him.

"I don't know what you mean." Michael shrugged, playing innocent while leading the small group of three towards the car. "Who was that schmuck anyway?"

"I told you, I'm working on illustrating his book." She huffed, cheeks pink in humiliation once she realised Bill would be witness to this latest argument.

Sliding into the car, she moved her body as far as she could from Michael and barley registered the vehicle pulling out into the road. Michael didn't even so much as look back at the KFC as they drove past.

"That was so humiliating."

Michael turned towards her, finally removing the stupid hat and glasses, revealing those expressive eyes she suddenly decided she hated, but as he looked at her fully, she knew she was only lying to herself.

"Humiliating?" He scoffed, continuing to remove more and more of his disguise. The wig, the mustache and finally the teeth. "The only thing that was humiliating was the way he threw himself at you."

"He did not!" She seethed, staring out of the window, suddenly feeling far more vulnerable now that Michael was looking like himself.

"Yes he was. He had his hands all over you." He insisted, shaking his head back and fourth. "Tell her, Bill. You saw it, didn't you?"

Snapping her head back to face him, her eyes lit with fire, she snatched the cap he's been toying with from between his palms and tried not to yell. "Don't involve Bill! This is between you and me and the fucking audacity you have. Rick wasn't hitting on me, but even if he was, it's none of your business. I am not your girlfriend!"

There was a finality to her words that hit both of them in different ways.

A heavy silence lingered in the car after that.

The rest of the drive was relatively quiet unless you counted the sound of the tires moving against the road.

Once they reached the familiar path of her apartment building, she waited until the car came to a stop before she thanked Bill, unbuckled her seat belt and rushed inside without so much as looking back.

Sitting in sorrow, Michael looked out the window at her retreating figure and suddenly wished he had the ability to turn back time.

"What are you playing at, Mike?" Though the hazy echo of the door slamming on repeat though his mind, Bill's quiet voice demanded attention.

Blinking once, Michael shuffled forward on his seat, erratically fingers running through his newly exposed curls.

"I don't know." He confessed. "I didn't mean for that to happen... but you saw him, right? He was all up in her personal space."

"Yeah, I saw." Bill confessed with a nod. "But I don't think she thought much of it. Before you came charging on in, she'd been watching you."

Michael's head turned towards him so quick, he feared he had given himself whiplash.

"What did you say?"

"Yeah, that guy appraoched her and she seemed sweet enough, but she kept glancing back over at you. I don't think she even recognised that fella was touching her."

Feeling like the biggest fool, Michael buried his hands in his face and let out a dramatic yell, easing out of his frustrations much to Bill's amusement.

"So, what do I do now?" He asked, sounding entirely too vulnerable much to his own dismay. A lump formed in his throat, but he was much too proud to allow himself to cry with an audience.

This was his fault. He'd driven her away. If only he'd taken a step back and looked at the bigger picture.

He should've known. She was beautiful, yes, even when they had been dating he had known men threw themselves at her, but she had never entertained it.

She valued connection over a cheap thrill. A man approaching her was easy, but she never fell into their trap. Even with Michael himself, it had taken several dates before she fully committed to being his grielfriend. She hadn't simply fallen into his arms that day at the library.

"You need to go up there and apologise." Bill encouraged, hands on the steering wheel.

Michael paused, knowing the older man to be right, but realising an impending sense of deja vu. "That feels like all I do recently." He expressed sadly.

"Well mean it this time!" Bill huffed. "And when she forgives you, which she will, don't screw it up again, kid. She's good people."

'She's good people.'

The simple description played on a loop, encouraging him to get out the car and head straight inside her apartment building.

Bill had the right idea, but he was wrong about one thing: she wasn't good, she was the best humanity had to offer.

Taking the stairs two at a time, Michael no longer cared how much noise he was making or that he was no longer shielded under the covers of a sketchy disguise.

If one of her neighbours were to recognise him, he's not sure he would care all that much so long as it got her to speak to him.

Knocking on her door for the second time that day, Michael counted down the seconds until she opened up, ready to face all that she had, even if all she was willing to give him was anger.

Only, she didn't answer.

Feeling his heart loose rhythm, he tried again, his fist meeting the wood grain with eager precision.

Suddenly it was '84 and he could hear the sound of his own voice calling back out to her, pleading with the women behind the door to let him in.

Last time, he'd given up too easily.

She's slipped from his grasp and he had spent three long years without hearing her voice, seeing her face or watching as she breathed.

He wouldn't be making that mistake again.

With a heavy sigh, he knocked once more with a soft call of her name. "I know you don't want to see me right now, but I'm not leaving until you let me in."

Silence.

"I mean it. I'll say out here all night if that's what it takes." Michael assured, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the doorframe. "I'm sorry. I know I've been saying that a lot recently and you're probably tired of hearing it, but you have to know, I mean it. I know I keep making mistakes and you're finding it hard to know which version of me you should trust. I just- I get so scared of losing you for good, it makes me do all these irrational things."

"That's not your fault. It's mine and I know that. I don't want to make you upset or angry. It's the last thing I want. You mean a lot to me... I think you always will if I'm honest. Losing you was hard. I'll admit, I felt like part of me was left behind with you when things fell apart. Running into you again, it brought that spark back."

Baring his soul, Michael was ready to stay for the long haul and he didn't care if it took days. He would cancel every work related commitment he had if that's what it took. Sure, the logistics would be difficult and his management would hunt him down, but he'd have to be physically carried from her doorstep before he left.

"Do you know what still gets me?" He called through the wood, eyes still closed as he pictured her face. "Through all this, you've remained exactly the same. You told me the other night that everyone changes... but you haven't." He spoke through a humourless chuckle. "You're still the same vibrant, loving, beautiful person I always knew you were and I don't deserve your forgiveness, but God, do I need it. I need you."

When she still didn't answer, as ridiculous as it appeared, Michael began to sing an old Ray Charles song ― obnoxious and purposefully off key. The longer he waited the louder he got until eventually, the sound of the handle turning broke him from the groove.

Inside the apartment, she could hardly believe he'd chosen to do this. Regardless of how purposefully terrible he's opted into singing, if anyone had remotely recognised that voice, a full scale riot would've started on the second floor of her building.

If she hadn't been annoyed at him before, the simmering heat had since grown into a blazing fire.

"What is wrong with you?" She demanded as soon as the door flew open, fist caught in the middle of his layers, practically dragging him into her apartment and rolling her eyes at the sound of his child like laugh.

Slamming the door behind him, she let go of his flannel. With hands on hips, she looked towards him and the laughter fell flat when he noticed how tired she actually looked.

"I'm sorry." Michael spoke softly, stepping forward to plant a firm hand on each of her shoulders. "It was the only way I knew I could convince you to open the door."

"Aren't you tired of saying sorry all the time?" She sighed, heavy with the weight of the day.

"No, not with you." His gaze locked with her own and he gave a warm smile. "I'd say sorry a million times over if that's what it takes."

And she knew he was telling the truth because those eyes never lie.

She asked once, why he wore sunglasses even when he was inside. Michael's response had been a short, but simple one: "I don't want people to see my soul."

At the time, she didn't fully understand, but as she looked at him now, it suddenly all made sense.

"What you did back at the music store was out of line." She spoke carefully, but didn't bother to shake his hands off her shoulders.

"I know." Michael muttered, nodding his head in totally agreement. "I'm an idiot… but I'm working on it."

A brief pause in conversation allowed the heat to die down. The world seemed to fall silent and standing there, just a few inches from her front door, she finally admitted to herself that she was glad he hadn't simply let her walk away.

"It won't happen again." Michael continued in an attempt to get her to understand. "I think seeing another man's hands on you scared me and you're right, you're not my girlfriend, but I think- actually, I know, I want you to be."

Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to talk, but Michael cut her off while he still had the courage to do so.

"Look, I'm going to say it and I don't care how crazy you think it sounds." His eyes found hers, strong and unwavering. "I want to be with you. I made the biggest mistake of my life when I betrayed you like I did and I'm never going to be able to make it up to you, but I will spend the rest of my life trying."

Hand falling to her jaw, Michael's thumb gently traced the familiar structure with a tenderness only he possessed. "You're not ready to be with me right now, I know that." He spoke as a fact. "But one day, I hope maybe you will be… I'm not giving up on that. I'll be here and I don't care how long it takes. I'm not giving up on you."

Butterflies swarmed her stomach, her heart beat rapid in her chest. She didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. The fact she hadn't forced him out of her apartment said more than simple words ever could.

Instead of responding, she simply asked if he wanted to stay for dinner and Michael eagerly agreed, even going as far as chopping the vegetable to help in the kitchen.

True to his words, Michael stayed a constant presence in her life.

Over the next couple months, when he wasn't rehearsing vigorously for his first solo world tour, or visiting children's hospitals, he found himself at her door. Usually during the evening time, when the sky turned an inky shade of blue, she would hear that familiar knock and be greeted with a charming, dimpled smile once she opened up.

There conversations weren't always that interesting, but each one solidified their bond. They ranged from something as boring as the local weather to more sensationalised gossip.

He's been watching her paint one evening when suddenly, Michael gasped.

"Did I tell you, Jackie's finally getting divorced." He snickered as she dropped her paint brush, faint watercolor splattered against her cheek.

"I'm sorry, what?" With wide eyes, she turned to face Michael, the painting suddenly forgotten. "Enid finally had enough, huh?"

Michael shrugged, throwing a fist full of popcorn into his mouth. "Guess so. They've been rocky for years."

Their realtionship had been at a breaking point for so long now, Michael could barley remember if they'd ever actually been happy. Between his brothers constantly infidelity and Enid's persistent jealousy, they were better apart than they ever were together.

"I just feel bad for the kids, you know?" His voice dropped into a whisper, sorrow etched into each letter.

"Yeah." She nodded, and reached over to give his hand a comforting squeeze. "But sometimes it's better for families to live apart to provide a stable environment. They'll be okay, Mike."

Other days he'd come over in hopes of leaving the stress of his career behind for an hour or two. It was during these particular visit, they'd leave all the seriousness of life at the door and play games all night.

Tetris, Super Mario Bros, Trivial Putsuit, Pictionary ― the latter particular got pretty competitive with both of them yelling insults when they failed to convey the prompt. Despite both of them being able to draw, this game truly tested their limited.

"Man, you're lucky you can sing because there's no way you think that looks like a fire hydrant." She remembered speaking once, throwing herself down on the sofa in frustration.

"I don't want to hear from you." Michael scoffed. "Your mouse looked like some mutant alien."

"It did not!"

"Yes, it did." He huffed. "I didn't know if I should find a new home for it or run from it."

The nights usually ended in a lot of laughter, but her personal favourite game came in the form of something as simple as Guess Who.

"Could your person beat a goose in a fight?" She asked, looking at the board and then Michael with mild interest.

"Hmm..." Michael tilted his head, eyeing the cartoon depictions like he was trying to solve the world's most difficult puzzle. "My person would definitely give it a good try, but ultimately, that goose would peck their eyes out."

"Interesting." She acknowledged, starting to flick names down. "It's obviously not Tom. I don't think he even knows what a goose is."

Michael chuckled, leaning forward to ask a question of his own. "If your person owned a dog, would they dress them up."

"Oh, absolutely."

Quickly making his way through the board, Michael removed faces and then turned with a stuble smirk. "I know who it is."

"No you don't." She narrowed her eyes, calling his bluff.

"Yes, I do." Michael practically giggled. "Is your person Maria?"

"How do you do this every time!"

As she groaned, Michael cheered in victory. There were no prizes for a win, just the gloatful pride of knowing you had was enough for both of them.

Once, Michael arrived at her door carrying a bucket filled with the delicious sent of crispy fried chicken.

"I knew you couldn't last as a vegetarian." She laughed, closing the door behind him and followed as he made his way into the kitchen to grab two plates.

"It's KFC's fault!" He persisted, placing everything down on the kitchen counter. "If it weren't for them, I would be the perfect saint."

A soft laugh fell from her lips, eyebrows arched as she nodded her head. "Sure. I'd believe it." She grinned.

Between bites of chicken, they'd spoke of everything and nothing all at once. It was easy, comfortable and for the first time in a long, she finally felt completely comfortable in his presence.

"I've been meaning to ask," she started with a subtle wide eyed gazed. "how's Bubbles?"

"Oh, Bubbles." Michael practically beamed at the mention of his chimpanzee companion. "He's great. I've been really leaning into learning sign language to communicate with him and he's so smart. You should come over soon. I'm sure he'd remember you."

On days he couldn't see her, he'd call and they'd talk for hours on the phone. He'd recount his day and then ask about hers. In the peaceful moments where they could be completely themselves, she felt something shift.

Suddenly, she wasn't so angry at him.

She'd bravely found the courage to ask one day if he was still in contact with Diana and Michael was honest as he spoke, telling her that he would probably always care for Diana, but they weren't as close as they once were. He barley spoke to her and saw her even less. Whatever had been between them fizzled out and honestly, Michael couldn't really see her without thinking of the pain he'd inflicted three years ago.

He didn't treat her like a fool, he never pushed boundaries and the way he spoke so candidly told her that she could trust him just as he trusted her.

Returning to Hayvenhurst after three years was a surreal expierence. Nothing had really changed, but nothing was the same either. More of Michael's siblings had moved out, so entering was already far quieter than she'd imagined it would be.

Fingers threaded through his, their hands swinging between them as he guided her inside and down the hallway.

The grandeur of the home never failed to leave her speechless. The scale of the property was one thing, but the things housed inside were a complete different kettle of finish. Tall wall and elaborate light fixtures, but somehow, the warm wood tones and bright walls still felt inviting.

Michael had explained on the car ride over that Joseph wasn't around, apparently he was out handling some business in New York. The way he rolled his eyes and clentched his jaw lead her to believe that wasn't the whole truth, but she wasn't about to question him and ruin their fun before it started.

Knowing exactly where he wanted to take her, Michael lead her through the house with ease, humming a familiar tune as he passed through different rooms, he stopped only briefly as the sight of a familiar face standing in the kitchen.

"Hello, Mother." He chimed, unaware of the anxiety building in the girl beside him. Moving through the house, he pressed a gentle kiss to his mom's cheek and then smiled as he turned to reintroduce the pair. "You remember her, don't you?"

"Of course." Katherine Jackson smiled, leaning in barley an inch to bring the young women into a small embrace. "It's great to see you again." She softly spoke, pulling away and eyeing her son still holding her hand. "So this is back on then, is it?"

Unable to form words, she turned to Michael to offer up an explanation only find him vaguely attempting to stutter out a word or two, his cheeks turning pink as his brain finally caught up with the rest of him.

"N-no, Mother. I'm just taking her to see Bubbles again." He muttered, unable to make eye contact with either of them.

"Oh, I see." She laughed the way a knowing mother always does. "Well, you two have fun. I'm heading out with Janet, so you'll have free run of the house. Be sure to behave yourselves."

It didn't matter that Michael was nearering thirty, she still shot him a warning look and he smiled in return.

"Of course, mother." He nodded. "I hope you have fun. I'll see you soon."

Finally finding her voice, she turned her gaze back to Katherine and smiled. "It was nice to see you again, Misses Jackson."

The older women offered her goodbyes and once she was out of sight, Michael began to pull at her hand and tug her further through the house.

He offered explinations for nothing until they finally made it outside and standing there, idly walking by was Bubbles. His soft amber eyes and pristine fur made a sharp contrast against the blue denim of his overalls.

"Oh my God." She gasped, covering her mouth. "I can't believe he's still here."

Michael laughed and carefully brought her closer to the chimp. "Bubbles, hey, come here Buddy."

On hearing his voice, Bubbles turned and immediately began to walk towards them, happy and bright eyed as he approached.

"You remember my friend, don't you?" The chimp rewarded Michael with a small noise, but soon climbed up into his owners arms.

"I don't think it's me he's excited to see." She laughed softly, squeezing his hand and them letting go so he was able to hold on to his friend with both arms. "Can't say I blame him. You always were good with animals."

If it were possible, Bubbles looked at Michael in admiration, arms around his neck like a child being held by their father. Michael beamed a wide grin and shook his head.

"I think animals understand me better than most people sometimes." He admitted.

For the next couple of hours, the two of them entertained not just Bubbles, but various other pets. Muscles the massive boa constrictor had always always been particularly fascinating in her eyes and so when she asked if she could hold him, Michael immediately complied, watching with a fond smile as she bonded with the reptile.

Plenty of people he'd met in life thought him strange for his unwavering love of wild life. It was either seen as too much or like he'd had more money then sense.

In reality, Michael had saved a lot of these animals from various unfortunate circumstances and given them another shot at a good quality of life. His empathy crushed him and he hated the idea of any creature suffering.

These animals had become his friends in isolation and watching her not only tolerate, but actually enjoy the presence of those very same pets filled him with a warmth he couldn't explain.

Sometime later, their hands intertwined once again, Michael walked her back through the house with a specific destination in mind.

"Where are we going?" She huffed, playfully pinching his waist when she earned no reply, only for him to gasp and shove her gently. "Well, answer me."

"Girl, relax! We'll be right there." He laughed, turning a corner that eventually lead them to the faimiliar doorway of his own bedroom.

For a moment, her body froze.

The last time she'd been in his room, they'd been dating and it was a happy time. Things were playful and new, she had felt like she belonged in his space and now she worried that wouldn't be the case.

"Come on." His soft voice spoke against her ear. "I want to show you something."

Gathering the courage, she gave him a small nod and followed as he pushed open the door.

If Michael hadn't been a hoarder before, he certainly was now.

Books piled high, spilling off shelves, paintings hung on walls, but he had so many that some of them were now housed on the floor, there were ranges of records and other musical items she had no idea the names of, but felt so crucial to him.

The lingering smell that was so unique to Michael met her senses the moment she stepped inside and any doubt she felt just seconds ago faded to nothingness.

Seeing him hop over the luxe bed in the center of the room, she resisted the urge to laugh and then before she realised what was going on, Michael was approaching her with a sketch book in his hands.

"What's that?" She asked, closing the space between them.

"This is what I wanted to show you." Michael responded, flicking through the pages until he found the one thing he's been searching for. "Ah, here it is!"

His smile was brighter than any star she had even seen and it took a long minute for her to stop looking at his face and shift her gaze downward to the page he was holding out for her.

What greeted her back took her breath away.

A large scale blue and red sketch, intricate in detail and perfectly symmetrical, not a line out of place and every single pencil mark served a purpose. Some lines curved, but most were straight and there, right at the bottom, like a true artist, Michael had signed his name.

This must have taken him hours.

Sparing a glance in his direction, she offered a kind smile. "This is gorgous, Michael."

She's always known he was a talented artist. It wasn't just music where he excelled, he was creative across the board and more often than not, he always succeeded with whatever he was attempting to convey.

"But, I'm confused." She admitted, gently tracing the intricate patten with the softest touch of her fingertips. "It's a door, right?" Her wide eyed gaze watched as Michael nodded. "Where's does it lead."

"That's the thing..." Michael mused, looking down at his work and then back to her. "it hasn't been built yet."

"It doesn't exist?" She asked, eyebrows pinched in confusion.

"Not yet." He emphasised. "But it will, one day."

"Please elborare. You're making me feel dumb."

His soft laughter reached her ears and warmed her heart.

"I'm moving out." He explained and then quickly fixed his statement. "I mean, probably not this year, but by next year at the latest. I want to buy lots of land and have this amazing house built. This is my idea for the entrance."

Suddenly it all made sense and she found herself grinning back, the idea of Michael getting out from underneath the thumb of his father and finally having a space of his own made more sense than he probably realised.

"I want to call it Neverland." He confessed and then turned to her with the softest look she'd ever seen. "And it's going to be a safe space, you know? For animals, children, myself. I've spent so much time feeling caged in, this could really be my chance to create something that works for me and I know it's going to take time, but I really feel that if I do this, my whole life is going to be so much better. I'll be happier."

"I think it's a great idea, Mike." Her voice so soft, he almost had to strain to hear it.

"Yeah?"

She just nodded in conformation and stepped forward to give him a hug. Michael froze only for a second, as though he hadn't expected it, but fairly quickly he melted against her, his arms falling to her waist as hers lay across his shoulder, her face tucked against his neck so close, he could feel her breath.

"It's going to be amazing." He rambled. "A place so far away from the crazy paparazzi, from the constant barrage of nasty rumours. It'll be a happy place and you'll visit all the time, of course. Peter won't be happy unless he has his Tinkerbell to keep him company."

Lifting her head, she was taken back by just how close their faces were, but made no attempt to back away.

"Tinkerbell? I thought Peter was meant for Wendy." She breathed.

Michael shrugged, keeping her close once he set his sketchbook down. "Maybe in most adaptations, but I don't know, I think he might have been infatuated with Wendy, but she wanted him to change. When you really think about it, Tinkerbell was the only one who accepted him exactly the way he was."

You didn't need to be a genius to catch the meaning of his words.

She had never tried to change Michael, never been cruel or made fun of any of his quirks. As he accepted her for all she was, she'd done the same.

Looking into his eyes, staring back was a depth of brown she had convinced herself had never existed in another human being before. The rich espresso color belonged to Michael and Michael alone.

Unaware of how long they spent breathing each other in, she couldn't deny it anymore. She'd fallen for him again. Maybe she'd never truly gotten over him in the first place. Michael was an enigma, yes, and he'd made mistakes, but he's proved time and time again how much he valued her.

They'd spent months by each others side, laughing, joking and enjoying the simple pleasures that come along with spending quality time with someone you care for. He listened as she complained about work, comforted her when she was upset and even when she was in a bad mood and wanted to shut herself away, he stayed by her side and told her the most ridiculous stories just to see her smile.

Looking at him now, she saw it all and so she didn't need to think as she inched closer and closed the gap between them.

Her lips slotted against his with ease and not only did sparkles fly, the world completely changed from one single kiss.

Shifting out of it, Michael drew his head back though his eyes remained closed, eyelashes falling against his cheeks so delicately, she felt her heart cletch.

"Wait." He whispered, resting his forehead against her own. "Are you sure about this? Because I want to kiss you, God, I want to kiss you, but I can't do it if this is just going to be a temporary thing." Fluttering his eyes open, he could feel her warm breath against his lips. "I don't want a night, I want all of you."

"Then take me. I'm yours."

That was all it took.

In an instant, his lips melded against her own, drawing her in deep and passionate. His hands at her hips squeeze against her flesh and she played carefully with the curls at the back of his neck.

His lips against her own after so long felt like she'd been invited into heaven. The sweet taste of orange juice and something so distinctive to him. There was nothing in the world thst could replicate it.

Teeth tugged against her lower lip and it took zero effort for her to open up, feeling his tongue against her own and still wanting more.

Her hand dragged down against his chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the erratic beating of his own heart and she hoped he knew how perfectly it mirrored her own.

Time meant nothing as she walked him backwards, her mouth never once letting up until the backs of Michael's knees met the frame of his bed and he fell down on the mattress. For one long moment, she just looked at him. The ragged rising of his chest, the swollen pink of his lips and the way his eyes had hazed over in lust.

Guiding her, his hands at her waist brought her down to his lap, knees straddling his thighs while Michael pressed a series of heated kisses down her jaw and along the column of her throat, nibbling against her soft skin and smoothing the small bites with the wetness of his tongue.

Her breath caught in her throat, only made that much more obvious once his hand slid down and grazed the length of her tight. Slow, seductive, like he had never forgotten the way her body worked.

"You drive me crazy." She uttered, with her hand to his cheek, she guided his face back to hers and pressed their lips together again.

Firm, hungry, but not rushing. Not after all the time they'd spent apart. They needed to cherish this.

So many sleepless nights where they'd only wished the other person had been there to keep them warm. Now, they didn't have to imagine, they could indulge in one another and no outside forces could tell them to stop.

Clothes were slowly removed. Her sweater first, skirt and t-shirt. Michael greedily caressed every piece of flesh available to him, his lips following the path his fingertips made, like he had to worship her or risk losing everything.

"You're so beautiful." He spoke softly, kissing above her collarbone and then shifting so she was laid out on her back. "So fucking perfect." He continued, eyeing her like she was some kind of holy deity blessing him with her presence.

Before she could convey anything, his lips moved lower, down her abdomen, teasing against her tights. Soft breaths and whimpers of excitement only spurred him on.

As carefully as she could, she guided Michael back up and smiled once his face was back in sight. He brushed his lips against hers and then froze for a long beat as she quickly worked the buttons and pushed the blue dress shirt from his shoulder.

Face flushed and shy, he suddenly sat back and looked down, almost like he was embarrassed now.

If only he could turn off the lights.

Michael moved to pick the blue fabric back up, but her hands caught his before he had the chance.

"Don't hide from me." She whispered, resting a hand against his rosey cheek and caressing the supple skin.

Lost in the moment, he didn't know what to say. It was embarrassing. Not only that she was seeing him like this, but how he was acting too.

"I-" Hiz gaze fell down and he took a deep breath before he continued. "I don't look the way you remember." He confessed.

If a heart could physically break, she was sure that in that moment, hers had.

Rising to her knees, she crawled towards Michael and placed a hand against the warmth of his shoulder.

"Mike... you're gorgeous." She confessed, sponging soft kisses to the bare skin of his neck. "You always have been. I know things have changed... that your vitiligo has spread, but that doesn't matter to me." She assured, smiling softly once he moved his head back and let her kiss more of his skin. "You're perfect."

Michael let go then, her hands drifting lower, lingering and caressing parts of his body before pulling down his zipper and riding him of the black pants he'd been sporting all day.

With a soft push, she laid back once again, looking up at him in wanderment, her perfect body on full display and if he hadn't been hard before, he certainly was now.

Within seconds, he was back on her, mouth against hers, finding a rhythm that worked for both of them. Her body grew warm beneath him, and he lost himself the moment her hand began to tug at the waistband of his briefs. Lifting his hips, Michael helped her remove the offending piece item of clothing and didn't miss the way she glance down, awarding herself with the growing sight of him that she'd been denied for years.

A cocky smirk edged against the corners of his mouth at the blown out look that fell across her wild eyes.

He was no better.

As she looked up at him, only a slither of brown could be seen around the dark depth of his wide pupils.

Quickly ridding her of her bra and panties, Michael stopped to appreciate the sight of her bare for a moment or two. Holding himself up, a finger dropped low, sliding through the sticky, sweet wetness he'd been craving for so long now.

"Fuck." He uttered absentmindly, gathering the taste of her on his fingertips and bringing them to his mouth where he sucked her essence away and groaned in delight.

Below him, her mouth fell wide, unable to tear her eyes away from such an erotic sight. As he lowered and claimed her lips once again, she could taste the salty flavour of herself against his tongue and swore she'd never never tasted something so intoxicating.

"Please." She moaned, feeling the hardness of him rutting against her so filthy, but not enough. "Don't tease, baby."

Nodding his head, he tried hard to maintain the messy kiss, but just the idea of being inside her again was too much of a distraction.

Shifting closer, Michael moved at an expert pace to guide his tip against her opening. Synchronised moans filled the room the moment his thick head pressed inside. Lost for words, her vision blurred and as if sensing it, his lips suddenly fell back to hers.

The sensation was more than either of them could have imagined. He filled her so perfectly, it wasn't out of line to consider if they'd been made just for this.

"I'm gonna move, okay?" His words tickled her lips and she nodded almost instantly. "You're so beautiful." He muttered once again, drawing all the way out only to push back in a moment later.

Whining at the feeling, her hips rocked against his, finding a rhythm and working on it as a team. Clawing at his back, her mouth dropped fully as his speed increased, pressing against a sweet spot deep within her to drive her crazy.

"You're so perfect." He confessed, forehead falling against her own. "I missed this, I missed you."

As if to prove a point, Michael rolled through her with such precision, she saw stars. The warm weight of his body pressed to hers protecting her from any outside forces that could threaten to hurt them.

Hand against her thigh, he guided her leg around his slim waist and both of them gasped as the subtle movement had him sinking further into her warmth.

"Please." The word left her mouth as her head fell back against his pillow. "Michael, I need more."

For a moment, he basked in the sight. His lover withering beneath him, begging for more. There had been a time in his life where he thought he'd never have this again, where he'd convinced himself he had lost the best thing to ever happen to him, but here she was and he wasn't about to deny her the pleasure she deserved.

Knowing her like the back of his hand, he reached down and pressed his tumb against her swollen bud, creating perfect circles as his hips snapped against her and rewarded him with the sound of his name falling from her lips.

"Ah- I'm... Mike..." Clenching around him, her breath suttered, so close to falling off the edge as her orgasm built.

Completely at his mercy, she was loud and unbothered, so beautifully her, like she couldn't get enough of him and didn't care if anyone was around to hear it.

"Come on, baby." Michael suttered. "Cum for me, I wanna feel you."

His thrusts gained momentum, thumb pressing perfectly against her clit and with one sharp snap of his hips, she lost it. Crying out in ecstasy, absurd and draw out, she practically chanted his name over and over like a prayer.

Legs spasming beneath him, she somehow impossibly tightened further and Michael lost his focus. The rhythm he'd been holding now sloppy and broken as he worked his way through his own orgasm, loud with the call of her her name on his lips until eventually his sweaty body collapsed against hers.

Their shared, heavy breathing echoed around them for a long time until they eventually calmed. His heat still pouring in his ears, but for all the right reasons.

Pressing a gentle kiss against her neck, Michael liftened himself with one arm once enough time had passed and found himself grinning at the blissed out look of his lover.

"Well, that was something." He slurred, sloppily pressing a kiss to her lips. "You meant what you said, didn't you?" His tone quite, in need of assurance. "You're mine?"

"For as long as you'll have me." She grinned, brushing a curl from his forehead and brushing her nose against his.

The smile he rewarded her with was enough to leave her breathless. She's never met someone so captivating before and seeing him in these small pockets of privacy reminded her how lucky she truly was.

Little did she know, Micahel was thinking the exact same about her.

For the next hour or so, they spent their time frolicking in his sheets, touching, tasting, feeling all that they'd missed out on. They laughed and smiled like nothing else mattered now that they'd fallen back into rhythm and maybe nothing really did.

Eventually, they pulled themselves apart for long enough to clean up and while Michael was busy washing up in his ensuite, she made it her own little mission to look around his room.

Fingers gliding over some of his more endearing possessions: a first edition X-men, a photo of him smiling with Bubbles, a stuffed animal he's brought at Disneyland when he was twenty-one. Tiny details that painted the picture of a man bigger than the sky.

Her curious wandering eventually came to a sudden halt when she found herself standing outside his closet. The temptation too strong to resist and with an innocent shrug of her shoulders, she pushed the doors open and stepped inside.

Michael's closet could've been it's own room. Clothes of varying design went back as far as the eye could see. Sparkling, dazzling spectacles to more subdue items you would find in day to day life. She looked through the items with care, smelling him on each piece of fabric she passed. Fingertips danced over different textures and she hummed in amusement when she realised his hat collection was bigger than her entire wardrobe.

Slinking around, her eyes soon caught sight of his basics and with little room for argument, greedy hands plucked a fresh, white t-shirt off it's hanger and in the next beat, she had tugged it over her head.

No sooner had the hem fallen to her thighs did the closet door open.

Turning her head, she was greeted with the glorious sight of Michael, fresh face, wearing a silk robe of sorts that he kept tucked away near his bed.

"Should've known you'd be in here." He teased, stepping towards her. "You always were a lurker."

"Oh please, like you didn't open every draw and cupboard of my place when you first visited." She laughed as he did and then looked down at the item of clothing she's stolen. "You don't mind, do you?" Insecurities laced in her words.

"Mind?" He muttered, large hands falling to her waist to draw her in close. "Girl, don't be ridiculous. You know I always loved seeing you in my clothes."

It wasn't exactly like the one she had before. It wasn't overly worn and the neckline hadn't been stretched, but it still smelt like him. Warm and new.

If that wasn't a karmic metaphor for their relationship, she didn't know what was.

Weeks later, sitting on the white sofa in her apartment with a book in her lap and her legs resting carelessly across Michael's thighs, she tried to lose herself in the words of her novel.

Really, she did.

But his looming gaze proved to be too much of a distraction for her to keep pace.

She must have reread the same line twelve times before she let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing her book down and turning towards him.

"What's wrong?" She huffed, eyes softening a fraction as he drew delicate lines across her calf with his finger.

"Nothing." He shrugged, but the downturned smile said otherwise.

"There's clearly something." Sitting up, she shifted in her spot, sliding across the sofa and moving her legs from him so she could take his hand in her own, rubbing soothing circles across his knuckles with her thumb. "I can hear you thinking. It's really loud."

That brought a small laugh and eventually he turned his face towards her, eyes dull with thoughts he'd kept to himself.

"Tour starts in two weeks." He whispered.

With a soft laugh, she nodded her head. "Well done, genius. You only just remembered?"

Rolling his eyes, he threw himself backwards and covered his eyes with his arm. His lips sealed shut as if to say he was done with the conversation.

Looking at him for a beat, she eventually pressed her fingers against his ribs and wiggled them. And onslaught of laughter fell from his mouth. Moving his arm, Michael playfully told her to stop before grabbing both hands in his own and holding them hostage. The more she pulled to set them free, the tighter his grasp.

"Come on, Mike." She spoke softly. "What's got you so down? I thought you were excited for this tour."

"I am." He admitted almost instantly.

"It's your time to shine as a solo star now. It's what you always wanted."

"Yes." He nodded.

"And you love performing."

"I do."

Failing to see the problem, she tugged her hands out of his and placed them on her own thighs. "Then what's wrong? Are you worried about all the travelling?"

"No." Michael shook his head.

"You're not happy with the set list?"

"Of course I am." He huffed, almost offended she would suggest that. "The set list is perfect!"

"If it's not any of that then I really don't understand what's bugging you so much." She confessed, eyebrows arched slightly as she analysed the intense look he wore. "I know this is a first for you and you might be scared of that, but I think you'll really enjoy yourself once your there. You'll find your footing quick and you won-"

"Come on tour with me." Michael cut her off, a hopeful gleam swimming in the depth of his eyes.

A pregnant pause descended around them, her eyes wide in shock from his outburst. Not for a second had she expected him to say that.

"You're crazy." She laughed, pulling away out of his grasp.

Before she could get far, Michael tightened his hold on her hands and tugged her towards him so she couldn't hide away. "Am I?" He asked softly.

"Yes." She nodded.

"Am I?" He asked once again.

"Yes!"

"Think about it," he began, reaching up to brush his knuckles against her cheekbone. "you've finished the illustrations for Dick's book."

"Rick." She correct.

Rolling his eyes, he shook the correction away. "That's what I said."

Despite everything, even though it had been months since that day in the music store, he never could bring himself to like that blonde man.

"You've just started the concept art for the Man On The Moon one, right?" He asked, knowing she'd already been picked for another book so soon.

"Yeah."

"So, you show the author and the publishers that by the end of the week. They'll give you the go ahead, because you're a genius and then you can work on the full watercolor pieces while we're on the road." He explained it like it was simple, desperate to have her to agree. "You can paint on the bus and in the hotel rooms, send your work through the mail and talk on the phone when you need to be in meetings. It's full proof."

"Full proof?" She scoffed.

Maybe to him it was. Michael lived in a world where he could make things happen with the drop of a hat.

But she wasn't Michael Jackson. She didn't have that luxury.

It wasn't that she didn't want to be there. Of course she did.

Watching him on stage night after night and being able to sleep beside him would be thrilling, but it seemed impossible.

"Come on... I don't want to travel the globe alone." He confessed rather vunerably. "And I really don't want to spend so much time away from you when I just got you back." Brushing the tip of his nose against hers, he could practically feel the fight leaving her body. "Come on, baby. Say yes."

"I want to." She admitted, feeling his lips brushing against her jaw. "You're being really unfair right now."

"I'm just giving you a preview of what you can look forward to if you agree." He mumbled against her skin and then leaned forward to capture his lips with his, sucking lower top lip and smiling once she leaned into it. "Come on, I'll do anything I can to make it easier for you."

When she didn't deny him straight away, his brain conjured every critical thought it possibly could to sweeten the deal.

"I'll even have someone fly out to send your illustrations over if that's what you're worried about." Michael promised. "And if you need to physically be in a meeting, I'll make sure you're on the first plane there and the first plane back. Anything... just say yes."

Hand on his chest, she nudged him backwards and climbed into his lap, her knees bracketing Michael's thighs as his grasp fell to her waist. "You make a really good case for yourself, Mister Jackson."

"I can do that when I really want something." He confessed, large hands sliding beneath her shirt, greedily caressing her warm skin. "So, is that a yes?"

Humming, she caught his face between her palms and guided his mouth close to her own. "Let's see how well you treat me tonight. If you leave me satisfied, I'll come with you."

Instantly, Michael threw her down on the sofa, climbing on top of her to devour her mouth in a searing kiss.

Safe to say, she would definitely be joining him on tour.

[startingsomethin]

₊ ⊹ GONE BY MORNING.

DISCLAIMERS: This is my first ever try at fanfiction and I hope it's okay, but if it's terrible, you know why. 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: Fluff / Smut / Angst.

SUMMARY: The year is 1984 and she never asked for this, but when you fall in love with Michael Jackson, life becomes loud. For an entire year, they've built this loudy, messy, tender life together. For the first time in a long time, she was happy, believing that despite the whirlwind that came along with the Jackson craze, Michael's love was unwavering. But the road to fame has many victims and she just might be one. Whispers she tries to ignore, nights when he doesn't come home and the gnawing feeling that she's not the only one he gives himself to continue to grow. When a tabloid photo splashes across the morning headlines, proving what she always feared, she has no choice but to call him from a thousand miles away and hears the truth in the silence.

WARNINGS: Angst. Can't lie, this is going to hurt. Infidelity. Arguments. Strong language. Diana Ross. NSFW scenes. Minors do not interact with this post.

WORD COUNT: 13.2k (oops... sorry everyone.)

MORE: You can read part two here.

Sunlight peaked through the crack of the otherwise blackout curtain, spawning a direct beam of light against her face. The warm glow arose a mild irritation as she stirred awake with a gentle huff, the only comfort of the early wake up call being that of a familiar weight of muscle slung across her waist.

It seems that in the night, he'd attempted to fuse himself against her, like he could somehow merge them into one with nothing but stubborn determination and a strong set of arms.

If it weren't so damn restrictive, she'd have found it sweet. Then again, everything Michael Jackson did somehow warmed her heart. The hold (both physically and metaphorically) he had over her wasn't fair, but she never complained. Being with Michael was like orbiting close to the sun. Warm and bright, but if you stepped too close, completely devastating. That was the risk she ran. People had always warned her about the price that came along with his lifestyle, but a year of being considered 'his' had taught her that he was multi-layered. You couldn't put him in a box.

Yes, with fame came harsh consequences, even more so with the jolt in status that had been unleashed with the release of Thriller, but he was so much more than the persona his celebrity had inflicted. Beautiful. Charming. Hilarious. And most unknown to the world that was so quick to slap a label on him, was his heart. The playful consideration, that longing to be wanted. He was so much more than the pop legend they portrayed him to be. Still, the title suited him well and he had no complaints about playing the role. It served a purpose and he relished in the power bestowed on him. After all, he hadn't put all those hours in to come up empty handed.

But the Michael she knew, underneath the bravado made her feel safe and loved. As she turned in the iron clad grip of his arms, she didn't note the stray Spiderman comic book on the bedside table, nor the empty glass of orange juice from the night before. Her focus fell to the man beside her, the mess of dark curls spread across his forehead and the peaceful look splashed over his face as he basked in the much needed sleep he'd been lacking with the pressure his career dictated.

If she tried hard enough, she could pretend this was the way they lived their lives everyday. Comfy, in her apartment, with only the sounds of the birds chirping echoing through the open window, letting a cool sweep of fresh air leak into the once stuffy room. Still, she loved him and embraced all the challenges that came along with being involved with a man of his stature.

With that thought in mind, she knew she had to get up. He was due to attend rehearsals with his brothers soon. The Victory tour was fast approaching and while Michael had begrudgingly had no choice but to agree to be present, he was a professional and wouldn't settle until he completed the thing he set out to do. The sake of his sanity relied on a shower before he left for the day and that thought alone presented itself loud and in charge until she did something about it.

Struggling to free herself from the restrictive hold he had over her waist, a small laugh escaped her lips as she pried his large hands from her hips and managed to successfully plant her feet on solid ground.

The air was cool, goosebumps rising against her soft flesh. So much so, that the chill forced her hand to reach down and throw a white over-sized t-shirt over her bare frame.

It was Michael's. Or to be more precise, it had been Michael's.

Their first night together, after the echoed praise, unholy chants of each others names and the joining of bodies, she'd slid out of bed and stole the shirt from his closet. The soft fabric, the stretched neckline and the scent of him warmed her so much, she never quite had the heart to give it back.

She didn't want to wake him.

Seriously, she didn't. Michael barley slept as it was, quoting himself to be somewhat of a night owl. She knew there was more to it.

Sleepless nights plagued with a mass of over thinking. Insomnia had got the best of him and so those rare nights when he did find himself drifting into a dream filled slumber, like last night, reluctance ached her bones, with a tender need to allow him to stay tucked neatly in her bed, away from the destructive world outside her doorstep.

But like clockwork, it happened again.

The action of it amost instantaneous, the subtle shift of his body against the mattress as the ivory material settled against her thighs, like his body ached with a fear of abandonment when she wasn't around. His head lifted, dark eyes narrowed in a tired squint he didn't try to hide, but his tense form eased once he spotted her just out of reach.

"What's the time?" He grumbled, voice rasped from sleep and much deeper than he had ever allowed the public to hear.

"Seven fifteen." She spoke softly, brushing her hair back from her face.

With a longing whisper of her name, Michael carelessly threw himself back against the pillows. "Come back to bed, please."

Michael was good at that. Tempting her into bad habits. Truthfully, it didn't take much. Just a glance at the coffee tinted hues flickering in her direction and she was an utterly gone.

Mostly.

"I wish I could, but you have rehearsals this morning. And I'm not dealing with Jermaine if you're late." She pouted almost too naturally and then stretched her arms above her head, the hem of his old t-shirt skimming her upper thighs. "You know how irritated he gets."

"Oh boy." As though she'd personally offended him, Michael allowed a frustrated groan to fall from his lips and dragged a heavy hand across his face like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Those wandering eyes of his not once leaving the long expanse of her legs, his jaw clentched while his usually tame thoughts ran wild. "You can't mention my brothers name when you look like that."

"Like what?" She feigned innocent, ignorance despite feeling the burn of his gaze.

"Like you're beggin' for trouble." His voice dropped, almost impossibly low. Giving her no time to react, he was on her, arms snaking around her waist, tossing her back against the mattress with a lazy form of dominance. "An awful distraction." He husked, his weight pressing her into the sheets as he continued to mutter against her ear. "One day, I'm taking this shirt back. You look better without it anyway."

Barley catching her breath, a teasing grin rose against the corners of her mouth. "That's cruel of you. I'm attached to this shirt."

Lips curling into a smirk, his mouth ghosted against her own, voice thick with familiar sense of desire. "Yeah, well... I'm attached to you, baby. A bad habit I can't kick." Then without missing a beat, he kissed her. Slow at first, then rough enough to make her forget about the rehearsals and his brothers entirely.

There was something about each kiss they shared. All that time they'd spent together and she'd never grow tired of it. With his body against her own, Michael's intoxicating warmth crowded her in the most delicious way. This was something far from innocent and the more it transpired, the more she lost herself in the moment. Time began to blend together, so much so, it became blaring obvious that not even a full scale hurricane could draw her away.

With expert ease, his tongue slid into her mouth, brushing against her own. Michael then pushed a knee between her own, a hand beside her head holding him up as the other grasped at the swell of her hip like he could keep them in this moment forever, if he only held her tight enough. It was almost dizzying, the way he hummed in triumph as he sucked on her tongue and got a real taste of her first thing in the morning. Suddenly any exhaustion he felt evaporated and all that remained was his a blazing need for her.

"Well, good morning to you too." She spoke, breathless once the kiss broke, as the heat simmered between them.

Michael smirked, fingers pinching at her delicate waist while not so subtly dragging his eyes over her body. Flushed skin on display covered by nothing other than that distracting shirt. "It's 'bout to be."

Before she could come up with a response, Michael had already brought his head back down to seal their lips together again. The familiar flick of his tongue against hers prompting a pathetic whimper to vibrate against their mouths.

Now, she knew him well enough to know that if she could see him, that cocky smirk wouldn't just be felt, it would be on proud display. The undoing of her by his hands was one of his favourite things.

Michael was always been that way inclined. He didn't want to be good at something, he wanted to be great. The best. The same could be said from a career standpoint or something as simple as winning a game of twister when he finally convinced his family to play. He had a competitive streak and that definitely followed him into the bedroom.

"You know I love it when you make those sounds." He muttered softly, pulling back only slightly so he was able to kiss down her jawline and along her neck.

"You-" She wanted to speak. Really, she did. But the attack against her sensitive skin, the bruising movement of his mouth proved to be a consuming distraction. "Fuck."

"What was that?" Michael paused his movements, breathing heavy as he looked down at her like prey. His already obscenely pink lower lip had deepened in colour, the smug grin still prominent and growing wider by the second. The familiar tone of his eyes darkened, the blown pupils leaving only a small ribbon of brown to surround it. He was gorgeous. He didn't know it all the time, but she certainly did, having fallen victim to that look one too many times in the past.

A moment of clarity seemed to catch up.

"You-" Her breath hitched while her fingers trailed the exposed expanse of his chest. "You have rehearsals. "

"Yeah, well..." Assured hands inched against her thighs, lifting the white fabric higher, exposing more of her to the cold air that had encouraged her to place it on in the first place. "They know I didn't want to agree to this tour." There were layers to his words, a heated frustration he tried to bury deep. Michael wanted more for himself, no longer wanting people to associate him the days he needed a group to keep him relevant.

Ambition clawed at him like a vice, telling him he had more to give and prove to the world that doubted the legacy a black man could hold. He's proved he'd earned his spot at the top billing order with his latest solo project and now he couldn't help but begrudge the fact he was still playing band of brothers with the same group he'd been forced into from the age of five.

Brushing the tip of his nose against her own, his voice dipped into a whisper. "They can wait a little while longer." And like a starved man seeing food for the first time, Michael's eyes gleamed in delight as he finally ripped the offending material over her head. "There she is."

Michael dipped down, his hands cradling her face in an almost possessive hold as he stole a kiss. It was common for him to be gentle, but this time, it didn't last long. Before either of them could gage the change, his mouth descended lower. A mirage of movement. All teeth and lips. The inability to remember her name had suddenly kicked in as he lapped his tongue against her nipple, tugging it almost painfully between his teeth only to sooth it with a lingering lick while a hand busied itself with her neglected breast.

No one could get her off the way he could. He knew her body, the way it worked and the things that she loved. He'd learnt the art of bringing those tempting moans to the surface and that was almost reward enough. Every time they did something like this, it was like they switched roles. With an open mouth, she'd sing him sweet lullabies and he knew exactly what to do to bring those high notes to the surface.

"You like that, don't you?" His voice thick with desire, knee barley pressing against her centre with a clear agenda. The goal was to drive her crazy, he was good at that. His mouth curled into a satisfied grin against her breast, knowing he had her right where he wanted her. There was no coming back from this. No clarity that could break through that incredible mind of hers to remind her to be responsible. Michael loved seeing her like this. How she tried her hardest to be rational, only for that to be utterly ripped from her with every indecent lick gracing her abdomen. It only made him want her more.

Hips rising off the mattress, desperate for some real fiction, she hated herself for how easily she fell for his little games. Her mind begged for her to come to her senses, but fogged over in a lustful haze when she found herself in this state. It was no use. She wanted him. Anything he was willing to give her. His fingers. His mouth. His cock. So long as he was the one touching her this way, she didn't care about anything else that was happening in the world beyond her bedroom. "You're an asshole." She muttered, half breathless, knowing he wasn't going to make this easy for her.

A soft spout of laughter fell from his lips, a hand falling to her hip to pull her closer. "You should be a lot nicer to me." He suggested with a demonic arch of a brow, his face coming up and aligning with her own.

"Why's that?" The muttered whisper kissed his mouth, his dark hues drinking in the sight of her in the early hours of the morning.

"Because..." He started, lips brushing against the soft pillows of her own, a dimpled grin taking over his features. "I have the power to make you feel real good right now." Surging forward, he didn't wait for a response, lips claiming hers in a heated echo of dominance, one that warmed her from the inside out. Long fingers clawed the meat of her thigh, guiding her leg up and around the slim apex of his waist.

Michael was bare under the covers, having fallen asleep that way the night before. If her eyes were open, she would see the smooth skin, the slightly uneven blotchiness he'd grown so insecure about despite her protests of how beautiful he was. The heat from his body trapped her against the mattress, a breathy hitch of a sound falling from her lips.

There were so many divine creatures in this world. Michael had taken the time to appreciate so many from afar, but he swore to himself, the heavens must have taken their time when it came to the craft of the women beneath him.

"You want me to make you feel good?" He pulled back briefly to mutter against her mouth, hand cautiously caressing her ribs, higher and higher until she felt his tumb grazed the underside of her bare breast. She arched instantly, a desperate plea for more and Michael couldn't stop it, the lively groan, low in his throat, casting vibrations where their bare chests met. His lips descended, lower, a leisurely trail of his mouth against her jaw and with an instinctive tilt of her head, she easily allowed him the access he silently asked for. The sharp sting of his teeth against her pluse illicited an addictive gasp, and in the next moment, his tongue flicked out, soothing the redness he'd created.

Michael laughed then nipped against her earlobe. "You're so beautiful like this."

"Stop teasing me." She protested, trailing her nails up the delicate line of his spine.

Again, he laughed, breathing hot air against her skin. "I'm sorry."

He wasn't sorry at all. He got off on this, enjoyed knowing the effect he had over her entirety. With a surge of confidence, she caught his mouth again, relilish in the way he opened up, a messy collide of tongues and teeth, breathless whispers churing into one.

"I want you." She breathed against his lips, pulling back enough to see the blowout, depraved look tainting his usual kind eyes. "What are you waiting for?"

"You have no idea what you do to me, do you?" His voice soft for the first time since he woke, large hand sliding to her waist like he was trying to map out her body from touch alone.

A shiver ran down her spine, the effect he had over her wasn't just physical but deeply rooted into the essence of her being. She knew a life without him, but it felt so long ago now.

"No." She breathed out, eyes fluttering at the feel of him so close.

For a long beat, he studied her, his tumb tracing maddening circles against her skin. "By now, you definitely should. Can't you feel it?"

A soft pink glow rose against the apples of her cheeks because yes, she very much could. The hardened length prodding against her hip, ready to take her as she was. He wasn't her first, but he had become her everything and time spent tangled in the sheets together always felt like more like a celestial event than a simple shared moment.

His gaze was searing, but then he leaned in and kissed her again, heavy but slow, as though he didn't have any time restraints when they both knew the truth. "I'm gonna take care of you."

Holding himself up, Michael allowed himself a glance, starring down in unadulterated awe at the sight below him. It didn't matter how many times he's seen her like this, she would always set his heart racing. Sometimes, he still failed to understand how it was possible he got the luxury to see her like this, how she trusted him so intimately. If divinity lived in a person, it would be this women. Michael felt like he could write albums of content with her as his muse, but no words would do her justice. The burning ache for more built up and with an aching sigh, he pulled away only brief enough to reach into her nightstand draw and and take out a familiar, foil wrapper.

Baring his new found possession, his slender fingers handed the item over. "Put it on." He muttered, lips teasing nipping the sensitive flesh of her collarbone. Holding himself up, he watched in wondement, the way she feverishly ripped into the packaging and with a quite kind of precision, rolled the latex onto his hard length. The touch of her hand already setting his body alight. With a heavy sigh, Michael's forehead dropped against her own, a shared smirk settled on both their features.

"Don't get shy now." She teased, but the words lost momentum the second he reached between their bodies, taking the base of his cock in hand to line himself up against the sticky, sweet entrance he's come to adore.

The second his tip pushed into her opening, a gasp was torn from her lungs. Like their brains worked on the same wavelength, their eyes found each other, a burning gaze as he surged forward with his skilled hips and pushed fully into her, stretching her walls with ease, like she was made for this, made for him specifically.

Time wasn't on their side, just outside, they both knew they would find a car waiting. Bill (Michael's trusty bodyguard) would be checking his watch, wondering what was taking them so long, but neither of them seemed to take note.

With little thought and ample need, he barley gave her time to adjust before he found himself moving against her, sliding almost completely out before spearing back in, knocking the air from her lungs with each precise thrust. The sight of Michael lost in pleasure burnt into her brain, something she didn't want to lose sight of, but each movement brought a new surge of pleasure which made it impossible to keep her thoughts straight. Rolling her eyes to the back of her head, he showed no signs of stopping, if anything, his pace grew faster and in an attempt to keep a hold of him, her nails scratched into the brown flesh of his back.

The consuming weight of his body against hers, the force of his thrusts, it was too much and not enough all at once. Her hips moved against his, finding a perfect rhythm in the intimacy of her bed. A large hand encased one of her own, lifting it above her head, fingers intertwined with the sound of his desperate pants echoing down her ear. With their bodies pressed so close together, a beading sweat slicked their skin, her lips pressed to his jaw as he whined her name.

"You're so pretty. So... so pretty." The muttered words barley escaped his lips, like he wasn't aware he was saying them in the first place.

"So are you." She urged, pressing her lips against his protruding collarbone, earning a deep groan from him as Michael moved to nip at her earlobe. With a tentative twinkle in his eye, he stopped his movements, buried deep with the slick warmth of her walls, to his own detriment as much as hers. Impatient for more, her hips attempted a desperate wiggle, but with a fierce determination, Michael pinned her hips, keeping her perfectly still.

It never used to be like this. Their first time, three months into dating, after some coaxing on her part, they finally let go of their inhibitions, but he had been painfully shy. So much so that she had questioned if he's ever done this before or if she had been the unknowing soul to deflower Michael Jackson. Never quite answering her question, he assured her he knew what he was doing, but definitely allowed her to take the lead.

Nowadays, his confidence had improved tenfold and that was only made more apparent by the hungry gleaming gaze those dark optics of his shined with.

"Who's making you feel this good?" He uttered, brushing the bridge of his nose against the delicate arch of her jawline.

"You." She whimpered, body aching and ready to go.

The mocking laugh that he released shouldn't have lured her in the way it did, but arousal pooled, staining the sheets beneath her.

"You gonna be a good girl?" Michael husked, unmoving, relishing in the immediate nod she gave, but it wasn't enough. "I know you can speak, baby. Tell me."

"I'll be good." She whimpered, the ache between her legs growing by the second. "I promise. Please, Mike... I need you."

A hot sigh of relief feel from her swollen lips once his hips began to move again. The movement almost sob inducing as the sound of their bodies pressing together set the soundtrack for the morning, overshadowing the sophisticated bird song just beyond the window.

A strong hand grabbed against the meat of her hip, harsh and bruising, but so deliciously addictive that the uttering of his name soon followed, over and over like a broken record or a sort after prayer. Burning and so fucking delicious.

With the tilt of his head, his mouth devoured her own, pouring every thought and emotion into a hazy kiss. Messy and a little off kilter as his tongue moved against her own, forcing her to move her own head and an angle that ached, but she wouldn't dare correct.

Sweat gathered at his hairline as he pulled her thighs tight around his hips, gasping as the slight movement helped him slide further into her warmth, his tip hitting that designated spot bound to drive her crazy.

"Michael!" She gasped, face flushed and twisted from the overwhelming surge of ecstasy, like she could feel everything all at once and yet, nothing at all.

"Come on, darlin', let go, I wanna feel you." He urged, quickening his pace in a manner she always found impossible.

"Fuck - ah..."

The burn ripped through her, his name the sin on her lips as her orgasm tore through her body, possessing her with the inability to control her limbs as she thrashed and withered beneath him. Her voice hoarse with praise, clinging onto the last waves when suddenly her release triggered his own.

His formally precise movement, the ones that came from a dancers hips, turned sloppy, thusts falling out of a rhythm to a well timed groan as he spilled himself inside the latex and eventually fell against her warm body.

Ragged breaths and rapidly rising chests filled the space around them. When was the last time she's felt so fulfilled?

Sweaty and satisfied, the temptation to forget the world around them was easy enough. If either of them thought they could avoid consequences, maybe they would. In the safety of her bed, Michael felt normal. She's seen versions of himself he'd forever hidden from public viewing and stayed. She valued him not for his status, but for the man that lay beneath it.

A small, soothing hand cradled the back of his neck, careful to avoid the tender flesh that lived a few inches North. She was good that way, knowing what he needed and when was the right time to put those actions into practice.

"Baby, we need to get up." She gently encouraged once she had finally caught her breath, pressing a soft kiss to his hairline, completely unphased by the dampness clinging to his skin after their earlier escapade.

A hard groan could be heard, the sound bouncing off the four walls around them and landing deep in his throat. "Girl, why'd you gave to remind me? I was at peace pretending for a while."

A light giggle passed her lips, his attitude, as bratty as it was, somehow still charmed her. Nudging his shoulder, she watched in amusement as he pulled himself from her and flung his body down on the empty space beside her, honey brown eyes narrowed in mild irritation both of them knew to be a lie.

"I'm sorry, Michael." And she was, he knew that. "If I could keep you here forever, you know I would."

"Yeah..." He nodded, lips quirked into a small grin. "I know."

"But you can come back tonight and you know..." Brows arched, her voice dipped in tone. "my bed will always be waiting for you."

"It had better be." Pouncing forward, Michael trapped her against the mattress, prepping a series of well throughout kisses over every inch of skin he could get to and relishing in the delightful laugh he recieved as a reward.

Eventually, she managed to tear away with a playful push against his shoulder. "Go and shower. You stink."

Sliding out from the warmth they'd created, her gleaming eyes watched as he moved across the room with a gentle, "Stop looking at me." To which she rolled her eyes, but found it hard to follow his order. In fact, her eyes stayed trained on his retreating figure until he hid himself behind the ensuite bathroom door.

With him out of sight, her bare feet touched the cold ground for the second time that morning. Picking the white shirt from where it had been thrown, she pulled the comforting piece of fabric over head and exited the safety of her own room.

In the main space of her apartment, she moved gracefully towards the other bathroom where she cleaned herself up before she started with her day.

Back in the kitchen, busy hands moved to make breakfast. Michael wasn't much of an eater, he never had a big appetite and unless reminded, he could go days at a time forgetting the fuel he needed to keep up with the energy his twenty five year old body held. As much as she tried talking to him about it, the worry of her words never got her anywhere. Pretty quick into their realtionship, she'd taken note that nagging only laid the foundations of his own stubbornness. To get Michael to do something, you had to physically place the thing in front of him and make it seem like it was his idea.

Slicing fruit and filling a bottle of orange juice was the least she could do to ensure his day started as well as she hoped it would continue. Gutting the seeds of a fresh pomegranate plucked from her fruit bowl, her actions were placed on a temporary pause when a knock at the door alerted her to a guest.

It was no surprise as she crossed the room and flung the door open, the face that greeted her back was the harded, worn exterior of an overworked bodyguard.

"Hello, Bill." She spoke politely with a smile.

"Hey, kid." He acknowledge with a stern nod. "Where is he? He's going to make us late." As if to make a point, Bill raised his arm, kind eyes falling to the face of the watch strapped to his wrist.

With a small laugh, she invited him in with a gentle promise that she would go and find him so they could go on their merry way. She knew the pressure he was under. Working for the Jackson's really should have been something that came with a manual, but Bill navigated the challenge well and frankly, she didn't know what Michael would do without him. Having troubles with his own father, Bill had somehow became a surrogate for the life he could've had.

Closing the door behind her as she entered her bedroom, her soft voice called out to her boyfriend as her gaze fell to the door of her ensuite, opened a few centimeters to reveal a small stir of steam developed from the shower he must have taken.

With no sound of running water and with the assumption he must be getting ready, she crossed the floor as quietly as she possibly could, carefully sliding into the room and allowed herself to oggle glorious the sight that greeted her.

The well toned muscles of his bare back, strong and flexed, proof that the body of a dancer would always triumph. His skin smooth and taut, a mouthwatering shade of brown, marbled with a contrasting lightness where the pigment had been stripped, but still looked as perfect as the rest of him was. He hated it. She knew that and as she trained her eyes upwards, the view of him covering the lighter spots on his face with a darker foundation shade in the mirror was made visable.

As if sensing her presence, his gaze met her own stare in the reflection and the beautiful smile he was known for began to curve against his lips, a subtle, but very real flush rising against his cheeks, flashing a peak at those famous dimples she adored so much.

"Hey, stop watching me." He laughed, though she could hear the subtle insecurities lay deep within his tone. "I'm shy."

"After what we just did?" She teased, giggling as the redness of his cheeks flared further.

With the initiative to step towards him, she found herself standing in front her lover, jumping up onto the bathroom counter and sitting with her back pressed to the mirror. As she reached to take the foundation bottle and sponge from his hands, Michael's large, protective grip instantly fell to her waist, further elongating that breathtaking smile. All perfect teeth and lips. She found herself questioning how she got so lucky.

"You're so pretty." She spoke offhandly, not realising she's said it until his forehead came down to rest of her shoulder, hiding his flaming face from view. "None of that, come on, let me help."

Eventually, Michael pulled back and allowed her to pile a light layer of make up on his face, something he used to be deeply insecure about until he realised she loved him exactly as he was. If it were up to her, he wouldn't have to hide away like this, but Michael refused to go outside without it and so she helped when he allowed it.

With a squeeze against her waist, the depth of his dark eyes focused entirely on her, the way she looked and felt, so heavenly and entirely his. She took over all of his senses and Michael didn't mind one bit. "You smell good." He muttered, doe eyed and in love.

"I smell like you." She countered, tilting his chin down so she could cover a small spot beneath his eye. "Look up."

He did as he was told with little argument, but laughed. "I like that you smell of me. Makes me feel like I marked my territory."

"Yeah? I always knew you were an animal." The laugh he gave was reward enough and then she remembered why she was rushed off to find him in the first place. Clearing her throat, her hand rest against the apples of his cheek, thumb carefully brushing the delicate skin beneath his eye. "Bill's in the living room."

"What?" His voice rose in pitch, eyes wide as he took into account the thin white t-shirt barley covering her tempting frame. "And he saw you? Like this?"

Before he could spiral further, the sound of her merry laughter broke through the surface and his eyes softened almost instantly.

"Relax, would you?" Pressing a soft kiss to his jaw, she finally finished with the make up she'd been applying to his face and neck when she jumped down and handed him the long sleeved, Mickey Mouse sweater he'd picked out for the day. "We're grown. I think he knows what goes on between us when he isn't around."

"Yeah, but..." Michael's voice carried low while he shrugged into the magenta material, smoothing the fabric over with large hands once his head poped out the neck of the fabric. "I don't want him to say anything."

"You're over thinking, baby. You know he cares too much to embarrass you on purpose." With a simple peck to his lips, she felt his smile against his own and then playfully nudged him. "Brush your hair. I'll finish cutting your fruit and then you can leave."

So that's what they did. Fifteen minutes later, she found herself standing in her doorway, sending him off with a simple kiss, a soft promise to see him later and a tub of cut up fruit and a bottle of fresh orange juice.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Wasn't that the bullshit phase a Roman poet spewed once up a time and it stuck? Well, she supposed it must true since she had found herself resonating with the saying more and more in recent days.

Since embarking on the Victory Tour, she had barley seen Michael. It wasn't through a lack of longing on either of their part, their situation simply dictated that it wasn't something that could happen easily for the two of them. While he was out, commanding stages night after night, she still had a life of her own, a career she'd grown passionate about and responsibilities she couldn't wiggle out of at the drop of a hat.

Although all of the shows for this tour were hosted in the States or Canada, she couldn't tear herself away from her job in order to follow him around, even if his brothers wives expected her to exactly that, just as they had.

Independence clung to her body, stubborn but admirable. It was one of the many qualities Michael had constantly praised her for. She didn't need him to be her own person, she existed in a reality where she didn't rely on someone else to lead a fulfilling life, but stuck by his side because he elevated every aspect.

Days passed by in a relatively similiar manner. Wake up, get ready, work, come home, dinner and if she was really lucky, Michael could sneak away for an hour or two as she settled down for the night and they would talk until one of them into a peaceful fell asleep, though it was usually her on account on Michael's persistent insomnia keeping him up at all hours.

With a hectic day at work finally drawing to a close and having caught up with all the tedious household chores she had been putting off, all that was left to do was relax. A foreign concept with how busy life had proved to be within the past couple of weeks. It was beginning to feel like the universe had purposely been conspiring against her.

The warm, comforting weight of a checkered blanket sat across her lap as she lost her mind in some other world ― her latest read divulging into a welcome distraction from reality. The words lingered, painting delicate landscapes of a place far away from earth, one she could lose herself in for hours with no repercussions.

Page after page, consumed by captivating dialogue and complex character, then it all came crashing to a halt by a shrill ringing breaking through the quiet. With the beginnings of a smile etched against the corners of her lips, she made quick work to slide her bookmark into the correct page before she darted forward to retrieve the phone up off the hook.

Leaning back against the plump sofa cushions, she brought the landline to her ear while curling a single finger around the curved wire. "991 emergency, how can I assist you today?"

Sharp, melodic laughter broke through the silence and without so much as a word, it would have been impossible to mistake the sound for anyone else. "You're so silly."

"Me?" A dramatic gasp filled the space between them. "Never."

"Yes, girl, you." His delicate hum warmed her from the inside out and with the futtering close of her eyelids, she could imagined him sprawled out on his hotel bed, all sparkling eyes and beaming grin. "I miss you."

"Hmm... me too. You always were my favourite distraction." She found herself admitting, tucking her legs beneath her body.

"Distraction from what?"

"The terrors of the mundane."

He was the total opposite, but perhaps that was what drew her towards him. Opposites attract and his life was so vastly different from her own.

The first day the met, he's been running, running like he was born to do it his whole life. Legs moving with vigor, leaving little room for breath and yet, he hadn't seemed to have broken so much as a sweat. His frantic actions, a mission to hide away from a small crowd that had gathered had him running straight into the first building he could see with a tired head of security flanking him.

It had been there, in the middle of a forgotten library that they first set eyes on each other.

The laboured breathing of his companion had been the first thing to draw her eyes to the new comers. Being one of the few people actually using library at the time, Michael was quick to meet her gaze and offered a shy smile with a quite apology. Did she recognise him? Of course and she knew he knew she had, but she brushed it off and went back to searching the shelves.

It was then that a little voice echoed in his mind, urging him forward and giving him a small burst of confidence to ask what she was searching for. Things escalated quickly from there. She asked why he's entered the library in the first place and he sheepishly had no choice but to admit his car had broken down, leaving him no other option but to get out. Instantly, he was recognised and before he really knew what was happening, he was running from a surge in the crowd.

The library had offered him not only solitude as his head of security made a few important calls to send a new car their way, but companionship that went beyond a simple conversation. What bloomed that day had grown into something that surpassed both of their expectations and had lead to her sitting idly by on a random Tuesday evening, grinning like a fool into the phone as he recounted life on the road.

Jermaine was still driving him crazy, no shock there, but he wasn't much trouble when his wife was around. Tito and Randy bickered a lot and when they weren't too loud, Michael found their little spats pretty amusing. He noted cautiously that he's gotten closer with Jackie since they started back up, how Randy constantly stole everyone's fresh socks and mostly, how he wished Joseph would leave them alone.

The tumultuous relationship he had with his father had become somewhat more contentious as Michael had grown into his adulthood. No longer shackled by his father's control, but somehow still entirely under his thumb. He hated it. Michael was a lover by nature and his family meant the world to him, but had also been his breaking point. The abuse, the taunts, the never ending cycle that brought on the feeling of not being enough.

He wanted more for himself.

Craved it like the air he breathed.

As he spoke, she offered him loving reassurances of how she cared, how she knew he was destined to do more. The Thriller album was really just the beginning for him and how he already had changed the aspects of the world, not just with his talent, but his heart too.

"How is it you always know what to say to make me feel better." He mused and she could practically picture the way in which he was dragging his hand through his curls.

"Comes from a year of loving you." Her voice soft, leaving no room for arguments as she curled up against herself, holding a pillow close as if it could mimic the press of his body against her own. It didn't work, but it didn't hurt either.

"I love you too. I really wish you were here right now." He admitted. "Everything has been so crazy. At least if you were here, I would have something solid to hold onto."

"I wish I was there too." She confessed. "I hate knowing you're so unhappy."

"It's not that I don't love our fans, you know I do. I just thought that by now, with everything I've done, with the success of the last album, I might have been given the opportunity for a solo tour."

He wanted it, more than he wanted anything. A chance to prove himself as not only an artist, but a performer away from his brothers, where he called the shots and had all the creative liberties. He wanted to be hands on, to shine as MJ rather than the child from the Jacksons.

This wasn't something he discussed openly with most people, but with her and the trust they had build, confessing his deepest thoughts had been a relief he'd been craving for years now. She never judged, never cut in, only ever encoruaged his passions and offered comfort he'd been denied for years.

She had her own personal grievances with the Victory tour. While, yes, it has stripped him of the solo projects he had been actively seeking out, it went beyond that. She thought it was too soon to get back on stage after the Pepsi incident, he had yet to full recover and was still expected to perform every night.

If that wasn't bad enough, everything that went wrong suddenly became Michael's fault. The ticketing system, the lack of Jackson music in the shows, the ticket pricing. It seemed he had a target on his back and she was the only one there to comfort him.

"It's going to be your day soon, baby, I know it." She said, innocently, like it was a fact and not an opinion. "How about I fly out and see you soon?"

"Really? Don't play games with me."

The excitement inched in his tone provoked and onslaught of butterflies to form in pit of her stomach. This silly, brilliant man had no idea what he meant to her.

"Yeah, of course. I can clear it with work." She laughed. "I feel bad. Your brothers all have their wives, kids and friends flying out constantly to see them. I hate that you don't have that."

"Well, that's not entirely true." He mused.

"Huh?"

"Didn't I tell you?" Michael breathed a delicate sigh, raising an arm above his head to fluff at the pillow beneath him. "Diana said she'd come out and see a show next month."

"Diana Ross?"

The women Michael had idolised since he was a mere child, far too young to be raised in a world to cruel. He latched onto those around him that brought a form of solace he lacked in his day to day life. Diana had been a source of comfort, someone he not only looked up, but longed for.

She knew of the childhood crush he had on the brilliant pop legend, had witnessed first hand as he got gooey eyed whenever she entered the room. She tried not to make a habit out of jealousy, but it couldn't be helped when your boyfriend looks at another women like she crafted the sun just to make his days burn a little warmer.

Still, she never made a scene. She trusted Michael and so naturally, he never sensed any of the discomfort his relationship with his mentor may had caused.

"Yeah, the very one." He sounded almost giddy, retelling the conversation he'd indulged in only a day ago. "She currently has a break between her Vegas shows and said she would fly out next month to come and watch us. Isn't that great?"

"Yeah, that's wonderful, Michael." She nodded and if he noticed her tone fell flat, he didn't draw attention to it. "I'm really happy for you."

"Me too." He practically beamed. "Maybe you could come the same night? Or the show after? You know I'll be putting on my best perfomance for you."

"You'd better."

Eventually their conversation turned to her, how her job was, if her boss was still a hard-ass and if she hid from her responsibilities by indulging in a new read.

Cuddled up against in her blanket, wrapped tightly in a familiar white shirt, she recounted the vast details of the latest book to capture her attention. Michael hummed with appreciation as she told tales of a world different from the one they lived in, packed with adventure, magic and longing.

Cutting in, he eventually asked if she would read a chapter to him. Instantly, she obliged, picking her book up from the coffee table and skipping straight back to the first page. One chapter became two and eventually, she stopped reading as the sounds of his deep breaths evening out signalled he'd entered the dream state.

Loving Michael had always come with consequences, mostly through no fault of his own. He couldn't control the screaming fans or the intrusive paparazzi. In fact, he'd gone out of his way to keep her name out of headlines and reporters mouths. She wasn't a secret, but she wasn't all that public either. His management thought it would be better that way. Maintain the single image to keep the fans invested. While it certainly made going outside their houses challenging at times, she could handle it.

What she couldn't handle, however, was the tense silence that seemed to build while he was away. The calls hadn't completely came to a devastating end, but they had become few and far between. When he did get the chance to call, it was brief, rushed, like it was more of an obligation than a privilege.

She tried not to take it to heart and told herself he was busy and she knew that was true. The tour was in full swing and Michael was being pulled in all directions, but suddenly, it felt like he was slipping from her grasp and the tighter she tried to hold on, the quicker he fell.

He wasn't cruel, she knew that to be a fact and so maybe somewhat foolishly, she continued to give him the benefit out the doubt. Not wanting to badger him while he was working, she allowed him to take things at his own pace, on his own terms, but even she admit, the lack of communication was growing somewhat tiresome now.

She missed him, probably more than she was supposed to and in a days time, she was set to be flying out to New York to see him. The tickets were booked, a bag was half packed and for a brief period of time, she was excited.

Soon, that exciment turned to dread.

Would he want to see her at all? What if he'd decided he wanted to call it off and was too kind to do it over the phone?

Doubts swarmed her already overcrowded mind and with a dismissive sigh, she forced herself to shake them away.

She loved Michael. Michael loved her and she trusted him enough to be honest with her.

Early morning passed and before she knew it, mid afternoon hit. Taking a break from packing for her trip, she told herself to go out and get some fresh air. Maybe being cooped up all day had been a contributing factor to misery and so she left the warmth of her apartment, telling herself a brief walk around the park would calm her nerves, but she didn't make it that far.

Sat on the floor, just opposite, the apartment right across from her, she saw it. The newspaper her neighbour must have subscribed to and hadn't be home to take it inside their own place yet. And like it was mocking her, she found her eyes drawn to the black and white print, an unmistakable image burnt on the front page.

Now, usually, tabloid gossip was of no interest to her. She really had very little interest in what celebrities were getting upto in their free time. Then she realised she must have been a hypocrite because when the picture showed the undisputable snapshot of her lover, pressed tight against a beautiful goddess, sharing a sly smile she thought he had reserved just for her, she suddenly changed her mind.

People had warned her, men like Michael don't do monogamy. He's too young, too famous, the world was at his feet and settling down would be a disservice. How idiotic had she been to call them cynical, to push aside any doubt and run straight towards him with nothing blind trust?

She remembered asking him about it once and how he replied innocent enough, assuring her that he wasn't like that, that women throwing themselves at him made him uncomfortable. He was too shy, too nervous.

But then again, this was no ordinary women. No, those dark eyes and beautiful curls were brunt into her memory.

'MICHAEL AND DIANA: FROM MENTOR TO LOVER?'

She wanted to throw up.

Every trace of rationality left her body as she watched her hands pluck the paper from her neighbour's welcome mat, stealing the item with very little thought and instsntly turning on her heel to let herself back into her apartment.

Back in the safety of her own home, she gave herself a second or two to calm her nerves, not yet noticing the shaking foundation of her hands or the rapid beating of her heart against her ribcage.

It couldn't be true. He wouldn't do it.

Would he?

For a few minutes, the entirety of her weight leaned carelessly against the door, eyes cletched shut as she willed herself to relax. She couldn't break before she knew the truth, so with a deep breath and a strong thirst for gospel, she forced herself to move, to sit down and read the entire article from beginning to end.

The words hit like lightening against water. Painful and damaging as the writer detailed the events of the night before. How Diana Ross had been spotted at the Jackson's Victory tour, polished and proud for the boys she'd watched grown into stars, how she sang and dance along, then slipped backstage mid-performance and ultimately found herself leading Michael up to her hotel room straight after curtain call.

Flaky witnesses reported seeing them close, all hands and flirty exchanges. Of course, this could be nothing more than a fabrication. After all, the photo didn't show anything outwardly damning, but she knew Michael, she knew that look and it was far from friendly.

Ice filled her veins, a sudden coldness deverstating her from the inside out. Had this been the reason he's been so agonisingly distant with her lately?

He wanted Diana. She's known that and like an idiot, she had allowed fate to make a victim of her. Just like Stephanie Mills had.

Like her, Michael had dated the young Broadway star not too long before he'd been cast in 'The Wiz' alongside Diana. Stephanie (who played the leading role on stage) had been the expected to take the role of Dorothy in the movie production and then suddenly, she was out of the picture, the rug pulled from under her feet. Diana got the part and brought Michael into the picture with the promise of making him the Cowardly Lion.

Shortly after the contracts were drawn, his realtionship with Stephanie fizzled out and the two went their separate ways.

Once, she had asked him if the end of that particular realtionship had anything to do with Diana. At the time, he smiled shyly and denied it, but the recent article had her rethinking every word he had ever spoke to her.

Had he love her at all? Was she just a place holder until the real thing came along?

It hit like a punch to the gut and before she even had time to process when she had just read, she felt a familiar streak of wetness trickle down her cheek. She was crying and she hated herself for not being able to stop.

Despite not yet having lost him, she knew this couldn't last and it hurt. The first man she had ever truly loved and he played her just as easily as he played his favourite song. Was that all she was to him? A temporary distraction?

Time stretched. Crying herself into a heavy migraine, she didn't move an inch. The newspaper still sat on her lap forty five minutes later and with one last lingering glance, she knew what she had to do.

Until now, she hadn't bothered calling Michael. It was a difficult process while he was on the road, but not entirely impossible. Before he had left, he's passed along numbers, given her code words and fake names to bypass any security in case she really did need to talk to him and at this point, she absolutely needed to hear his voice.

Standing on shaky legs, her body stiff from sitting in the same position for too long, she forced her feet forward, the walk across the room feeling more like a marathon than a simple five second journey. Reaching for the landline, her body slid down the wall, knees coming to her chest as she dialled.

The process to speak to Michael on the phone was a lengthy one, and truthfully, she hadn't processed or remembered most of it. Time seemed to drag as slow as possible while simultaneously passing by in a distinctive blur. Whoever had been playing security in the measures of Jackson phone calls eventually let up and told her they would be passing the call forward.

Nerves began to bubble before she fully registered what was about to happen. Her mind a swirl of printed words and painful glimpses of a smile that should have been hers.

The ringing that once whould've provided hope, only brought along dread and for one brief, tempting moment, she seriously contemplated hanging up and dealing with the issue another day. She didn't have to do this now. Before she could even attempt to bring the reciever down, the ringing stopped and for a second, she was greeted with clumsy rustling.

He'd picked up.

"Hello?"

The familiarity of his voice only aided in furthering the devastation she felt, the welling of tears she stubbornly refused to let fall. When he heard no reply, Michael spoke in greeting again. As the silence lingered, he seriously considering hanging up but then he heard the subtle heavy breath and realised, he knew exactly who that was.

A soft call of her name was all it took and suddenly she felt like a scared child during a nightmare, lost, confused and needing to tackle the beast head on.

"Baby, are you there?" To his credit, Michael actually did sound concerned.

And she hated it.

Did he not know? He seemed entirely oblivious to headlines currently making their way into the average American household. Maybe he really hadn't seen it, but she couldn't be sure she trusted anything he said or did anymore.

"Yeah." She spoke for the first time, clearing her throat and resting her chin against her knees. "I'm here."

"Hey." She could hear the smile in his tone. "Are you all packed? I can't wait to see you tomorrow. Bill will meet you at the airport and you ca-"

Unable to listen to his ramblings of a visit she wasn't sure would happen, she found herself cutting him off. "Is it true?"

For a second, there was nothing. He didn't speak or hum in confusion, he stayed so quite. So quite, she could barley hear the small breaths of air pass through his mouth

"Huh?" He eventually spoke, though the word lacked conviction.

"Is it true?" She repeated, eyes screwed shut, voice completely void of emotion.

"Is what true?"

He played the fool well, she would give him that.

"Last night." Her voice wavered. "You and Diana. Is it true?"

He paused and it was heavy. No playful taunts or amused laughter. Just a hefty silence where his voice should have been.

"I mean, she came to the show." Michael eventually confessed and she could hear the distinct sound of his black loafers hit the floor as he paced back and fourth. "I told you she would."

"Yeah." A bitter laugh passed through her lips. "What you didn't tell me was how you would find yourself in her hotel room by the end of the night."

A painful gasp tore through his throat and only further perpetuated the ache in her chest. He knew now and he hadn't denied it, he couldn't. She could picture the way he looked when he was stressed, brows furrowed inwards, begging to be soothed with a gentle touch, but she wasn't there and even if she had been, she no longer felt obligated ease his tension when she could feel the pain of her own heart breaking.

"H-how?" His voice cracked. Quickly clearing his throat, Michael closed his eyes and then found the courage to speak again. "How did- how did you know?"

With an unflattering chuckle, her head hit the wall behind her, eyes snapping open to view the plain, white ceiling above her. "And here I thought you were always so vigilant of the paparazzi."

For a moment, Michael forgot how to breath. They'd seen, she'd seen and he's always promised himself, he would never hurt her. Shuffling on his feet, usually he knew what to do to make tense moment fall into laughter ― it was the way he survived, but right here, right now, he was met with the realisation that there really was nothing funny to laugh about.

"Just tell me ―" The words in her throat broke before she was able to form a full sentence. With an unsteady breath and tears welling against her waterline, she tried again. "Just tell me, did something happen between you two last night?"

What greeted her wasn't a confession. He didn't grovel or admit he was at fault, but the heavy silence that lingered between the phoneline told her everything he refused say with words. He'd done it, been intimate with a women that wasn't her and now he didn't have guts to confess his sins.

Before she could stop it, a tear slipped and anger swelled, ugly and unwelcome. Michael hadn't uttered a word and somehow, that felt worse, like he was running from responsibility or hoping she was too stupid to call him out on it.

"Tell me, you coward!" Her voice seethed, but while the angry was present, there was no mistaking the deverstation that lingered beneath. "Tell me why! Why would you do this to me?"

No matter how hard she tried, she could never imagine a situation where things would have transpired this way. They'd been happy, she knows they had been.

Every time they were together, a beacon of hope suddenly lit the world around them. That gorgous smile of his rarely fell and he trusted her enough to keep his secrets. That must mean something. Michael didn't really trust anyone.

At some point, he must have loved her, for all that was worth.

Eventually, the shock wore off and he found himself able to talk. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" She mocked with an cruel scoff. Picking at the loose thread on her jeans, her gaze fell still. "Why? Tell me."

Like the air had been vacuumed out of the room, she suddenly found it hard to breath. Every inhale burnt, every exhaled required too much effort. Wiping the wetness from her cheek, she felt the weight of the conversation breaking her down.

"I don't have a good answer." Michael breathed out, frozen like stone as he looked out the window of his hotel to a beautiful view of New York. It did nothing for him. How could he admire anything after huring someone he held so dear? "Not one that will make sense."

"I don- I don't care. I d-deserve to know." Suttering and fumbling over her words, she vowed to get an answer out of him one way or another. "Why did you do this? A-all I ever did was love you."

"I don't want to make excuses." His voice had never sounded so fragile before. "For as long as I've known Diana, she..." Like he didn't know how to continue his sentence, the words lost momentum and came to a sudden halt.

"She?"

Releasing a small whimper, Michael closed his eyes. "Please don't make me say this."

"If you don't tell me," she started, her voice hoarse but serious in tone. "I'm hanging up."

"No!" Panic and desperation mixed into a deverstating plea. "No. D-don't hang up."

"Then stop stalling."

"Okay." He found himself nodding, though she couldn't see. Pacing back and fourth once again, Michael finally convinced himself to bare the truth. "Since I've know her... I don't know, it's like she has me under a spell. People thought it was some childhood crush, I tried to tell myself the same, that it would fade with time, but it didn't."

And it had been true.

The harmless crush he had on Diana in his youth had never been a secret. They'd joked about it plenty of times, in the press or on TV. At the time, it seemed sweet, a little boy infatuated with his mentor.

Then seasons passed and he grew older. So had she, but suddenly the age gap didn't seem quite so large. The crush hadn't faded, but certainly felt forbidden, so Michael kept his thoughts and strong emotions to himself, assuming she would never want him.

That was until last night.

"Keep going."

"I don't know what to say." He admitted. "She means something to me."

"You love her." She spoke flat. Not in a questioning tone, but as though it was a straight fact no one could deny.

"I d-don't know." And as Michael said it, he hated himself for it.

Here he had this beautiful, incredible, funny women and she liked him, truly liked him as Michael and not the big star the world had built him into. She comforted when he was upset, held him when he was lonely, she told him stories of other worlds to read him to sleep and loved him more purely than anyone else ever had.

She wanted nothing from him and here he was, breaking her heart.

"You wouldn't have done this if you didn't." He heard the exhaustion in her voice, but nothing could have prepared him for what she asked next. "What happened last night?"

The world tilted on it's axis. Did she want him to relive it?

His heart pouted, hot tears threatening to fall loose as he recounted the night in his mind until the physical need to vomit presented itself.

"You're not serious." He muttered.

"Not the gory details." She assured, wanting to spare herself more than him from that particular aspect. "Just the build up. I want to know why. What lead you to follow her when you knew I was waiting for you?"

Michael uttered her name, delicate and precise. Maybe if he said it soft enough, she would take mercy on him, but he knew he didn't deserve it and that thought alone provoked the first tear to fall.

"I really don't want to talk about this."

He was shy in nature and she knew it. Talking about the intimate details of his late night escapades would've been hell, but she didn't let up. If she did, she provided him an out and that was something she couldn't afford.

"You owe me this much, Michael."

With a quivering sigh, he found himself submitting entirely to her request. To deny her would only cause more heartache and he couldn't stand it. Her pain brought more tears from the both of them as he explained the lead up to the night before.

How Diana appeared before the show and met with him backstage. It was fun and playful. A little flirtation back and fourth was nothing new with the two of them, but this felt different. Her touched lingered, her gaze had darkened. She had been zoning in like a wild animal hunting its prey. When he noticed, Michael excused himself to get ready for the show, shy and awkward with the thought of his lover back home.

While he was getting dressed, she'd taken it upon herself to speak with his brothers, light banter, nothing like it had been with him and then when Michael came back out, she hugged him for good luck and pressed a kiss against the corners of his mouth. Not necessarily any indication she wanted anything more and from a distance, it would have looked innocent enough, but he had noticed the longing gleam in her eyes and knew there was nothing holy about the thoughts she'd been having.

He turned towards her, confused but excited as she promised she would be waiting for him backstage after the show.

The particular perfomance was full of energy. Michael had always been on top form, but there was a very distinct spring in his step that night and once he left the stage, dripping in sweat and desperate for a shower, there she was: waiting for him just as she promise.

One thing lead to another. Excited hands, a first kiss and then the invitation to her hotel. It was like the world had closed off and they were the only two people in the world.

So blinded by a childhood fantasy coming true, Michael forgot all about the paparazzi swarming and the women waiting for him in LA.

Once the deed was done, guilt swarmed and he politely excused himself and later vomited in the bathroom, but he couldn't take it back, no matter how hard he tried.

As he concluded the tale in deveratating detail, a tidal wave of misery washed over both of them. A sob of agony ripped from her lungs and Michael, sitting on his bed with her head hung low, wanted nothing more than to die in that moment.

What had he done?

"Funny thing is, she doesn't even want me." He admitted with a bittersweet laugh as if that would make up for his indiscretions.

"What?" She spoke for the first time in what felt like hours, voice rough from the tears she'd spilt.

"She told me after..." he began, squeezing his eyes tight at the memory. "that i-it meant nothing to her, no one could know, that it was embarrassing she even went there with me."

For reasons even she couldn't comprehend, her heart broke for him despite what he had put her through because on some level, she understood Michael.

He wanted to be loved, craved a life where he was treated as more than a prize horse and was accepted by those around him, not only as an equal but as a human being.

He's been used by the industry from the age of five and treated like nothing more than a shiny trophy for the world to gawp at. Having Diana dangle her love just to snatch it away would have broken him in ways he never thought possible, but if she comforted him, she would have nothing left for herself. For the first time in over a year, she had to be selfish.

The ache in her chest felt worse than it ever had before and with an ugly sniffle, she resisted the urge to tell him things would be okay.

Whiping a neverending stream of tears, she responded with a simple: "Well, I hope it was worth it."

And it was in that moment, he heard it. The lack of emotion now tainting her words. Every ounce of warmth she had ever held for him blown out by the cold truth of his betrayal and Michael felt the air leave his lungs when he realised what that meant.

He didn't want to lose her. He couldn't.

"Please." He spoke in a desperate attemmpt to win her back. "I love you."

"No you don't." Her laugh barley had any bite to it, but still stung from miles away. "You love how I love you. That's not the same."

There had been no real harshness in the words she spoke, but his blood ran cold, like a bucket of ice water had been thrown over his head and he was expected not to shiver.

It wasn't true, he did love her. She had to know.

She had to.

"No, I love you." He furiously protested.

"You wouldn't do this to someone you love."

"It was a careless mistake! I don't want to lose you." Michael rarely raised his voice, but there are exceptions to every rule. "Fly out tonight like we planned. We-we can talk it over. I can- I can make this right." He spoke fast, like if he could get enough words in, she would see reason and he wouldn't face a version of reality where she didn't exist.

"Are you crazy? Listen to yourself." She scoffed. "Why the hell would I fly out? We're done. Don't contact me again."

With a harsh slam, the phonecall ended and with it, so did any hope of the two of them as a couple.

Finally, she let it all go. If she had been sobbing before, it was nothing compared to the barrage of tears now streaming at an alarming rate. Her heart pounded, her throat ached with heavy cries, but nothing could've prepared her for the loneliness that descended over her like a dark cloud.

This wasn't as simple as losing a boyfriend, Michael had been another part of her and now they didn't even have the trust of a friendship to fall back on.

Alone in her apartment, she allowed the sadness to overwhelm her, refusing to move as she cried against the wall with her knees tucked to her chest and her face buried in the stiff denim. Her arms wrapped around herself as if that could protect her from a devastating fate that had already happened, but it was too late. You can't change the past.

An inky black hue stained the sky over Los Angeles, not a single star gleaming in sight, but there was no denial that night time had finally fallen.

In the early hours, the last thing the quite halls of a tired apartment bulding had expected to hear was the deafening sound of frantic, pounding knocks ricocheting from apartment twelve.

No one had the courage to step out into the hallway, but if they had, they would've been greeted with a rather peculiar sight of a desperate Michael Jackson, exhausted from an impulsive six hour flight, calling the name of his girlfriend through the door like a prayer.

He hadn't thought things through properly. The moment she hung up, he had rushed to his feet and ran to find Bill. His bodyguard confused, but unable to refuse the restless pop stars request to go back home.

He had a show that night. His brothers would've been livid and he dreaded to think the repercussions he would face with Joseph's wrath once he returned, but none of it seemed to matter in the large scale when he realised he was about to lose the best thing thst happened to him.

Ten minutes of unanswered knocking and aching calling of her name, Michael didn't know what to do. He couldn't force his way inside, that would only worsen the situation and so instead, he did the one thing that scared him more than anything. He became vulnerable.

"Please." He called out, the palm of his hand settling on the wood grain of her door. "I know you're in there. I saw your car in the lot."

Nothing.

His heart clentched painfully in his chest, fear rooted deep with the knowledge that if he couldn't get her to open the door, he might never see her again.

"Come on, you know me." A string of tears fell beneath the black aviators he wrote depiste the darkness of the night. "I'm not malicious and I would never want to hurt you. You've been so good to me, so good for me. I don't like who I am when you're not around."

His pleas went unanswered, but little did he know, only an inch or two away, she sat against the door in a pair of oversized pyjamas, a hand covering her mouth and nose to muffle the cries that broke lose. She was there, she was listening and he had absolutely no idea.

"Remember when you kissed me for the first time?" He cried, head hanging low while recounting that moment twelve months prior. "I'd been too scared to do it. My brothers had been teasing me for weeks, calling me a chicken and they were right because I was scared... not of you, but what it meant if I were to kiss you and have you reject it. It would've meant I'd lose you... really lose you, not as a partner, but as a friend too and I couldn't risk that."

"But I didn't need to." He continued, lips quivering with each breath he took. "Because you were brave enough for both of us, you took the leap and I remember thinking, 'wow, she's going to change my life.' And you did... from the very first time I saw you in the library, wearing that awful grey sweatshirt. For the first time in a long time, I felt human again."

Still, nothing, just the aching sound of his own stubborn tears refusing to let up and who was he to deny them? He's never felt a sadness so strong and entirely consuming. She was slipping from him, he could feel it and every second felt like a year without her voice.

"Please, just- just open the door." He tried one last time. "We can fix this. I can. I'm so sorry I hurt you. You mean everything to me."

When he was young, Michael had promised himself he would never turn out like his father, he would never purposefully hurt the people he loved. He had been so sure of himself too. In hindsight, looking on at the devestaion inflicted by his actions, maybe he was Joseph's son after all.

With no indication that she was even inside, Michael stepped back, arms around his stomach like he could hold himself together through willpower alone even as the pieces of him crumbled from within.

Until now, Bill had remained quiet, but slowly he inched closer and placed a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulders.

"Come on, kid, let's get you home." He spoke in a kindness only Bill held. "You can try again tomorrow."

And while he knew that to be true, he also realised how low the probability was that she would actually hear him out of she had already refused.

Allowing the safety of a man he regarded as a father to lead him outside, Michael could barley remember stepping into the car nor the exhausting journey back to Hayvenhurst. One second he was standing at her door and the next he was walking into his own home.

What he hadn't expected was to find his oldest sister, Rebbie to be awake at this hour. She turned to face the door, unable to see his eyes behind the glasses but she could sense the cruel pain plaguing her brothers half breathless frame.

"Get some sleep, Mike." She muttered after giving him a brief hug, telling him they could talk about this in the morning once he had caught his bearings.

Michael nodded and began to walk down the hall to find his own room when his sibling called his name once again.

Turning on his heel, exhausted and wanting nothing more than to lock himself away for the rest of eternity, he gave Rebbie a small nod of acknowledgment. "Yeah?"

"You're friends stopped by earlier... gave me a box of your stuff. I put it in your room."

Eyes widening with in inpending terror, Michael took off as fast as his feet would carry him and tore through his bedroom.

Everything looked the same. He hoarded books and albums, his room was never the most organised, but everything had a place that made sense to him. He knew where things were, which is why the cardboard box sitting on his bed felt so out of place.

Heavy legs carried him forward and with a shaking hand, he reached out to inspect the contents.

A stray comic book or two, a sketchbook he would doodle in from time to time, a key chain from his last trip to Disneyland and then he saw something painful enough to knock the breath from his lungs and bring his world crashing down.

He never thought that in the absence of her presence, the thing that would truly cause his heart to break would be what remained.

There it sat, folded neatly at the bottom of the box, stretched neckline and still smelling just like her ― his old white, t-shirt, the same one she stole the first night they shared together. She'd claimed it along with his heart... and now she'd given it back.

It felt wrong, like it no longer belonged to him.

Then he heard it again, those words echoed through hus mind, sure to haunt him for the rest of his life.

"You love how I love you. It's not the same... We're done. don't contact me again."

He's lost her and there was no one to blame but himself.

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Recs Wrapped Masterlist

Everything I read in 2025 and recommend for you to read… from my fav oneshots to creators, there’s something for every type of reader

☆ Anakin Skywalker

☆Charles Leclerc Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7

☆Henry Hart

☆JJ Maybank

☆ Kang Dae-Ho

☆Katsuki Bakugou Pt.2 Pt.3

☆Peter Parker

☆Salesman (Squid Game)

☆Steve Harrington

☆W2S (Harry Lewis)

All rights reserved © l0vrgir1-2026.  Do not copy, translate, or repost my works or layouts

[l0vrgir1]

finally posted 2025 reading wrapped, only took me 7 months.

realeasing in honor of charles' P2 at silverstone

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Katsuki Bakugou Part 3

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

@ochacoca

BOYFRIEND TEXTS  (sm) hyperfeminine girlfriend  (sm)

@oh-katsuki

alpha!bakugou  (s) big brother bakugou  (s) ceo bakugou  (s) dumb little housewife  (s) mommy kink  (s)

hopeless romantic bakugou  (h) @ohlawdthevoices

Fratboy!Bakusquad and MeanRoomate!Mina  (s) @pervysenpaix

@plushieni

boxer!bakugo  (s) tech support, hearts included  (f)

𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄  (sm)(*) @poptien

OBSESSED  (f) @quaintlovey

@rexhya

bittersweet  (f)(a) can't stop calling  (sm)(*) flirty  (f)

@rosereveries

bakugou swears it doesn't mean anything---you know better.  (f) what do you mean you're together?  (f)

@rueclfer

13 hours  (sm) a part of me  (sm) b.a.s  (sm) ego death  (sm) f1 racer!katsuki  (f) garage band  (sm) girl's night  (sm) heard from a friend of a friend  (sm) mine mine mine  (sm)(*) plug!katsuki  (sm)(*) pressure to party  (sm)(*) prohero!katsuki  (f) sharing a wall with him in the dorms  (sm)

uncensored  (sm)(*)

stepbrother  (s) @searenbound

@seumyo

9:33  (f) bakugou "i didn't forget your birthday" katsuki.  (f)(a) Bakugou never really liked you.  (a) do it yourself---no---i'll do it  (f) DOUBLE SECRETARY DUO  (sm) growing old with bakugou  (f) texts with bf!bakugou.  (sm)(*) THE DRESS CODE  (f) when you don't say "i love you" back to bakugou.  (f) will bakugou choose seoul, korea or your wedding anniversary?  (f)

Alpha!Bakugo  (s) @shonen-brainrot

Dating  (f) @siennasfantasies

𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗛 𝗔 𝗧𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘  (sm) @silkhero

@socialobligation

boyfriend of the year  (sm)(*) six months too late  (f)(a) technical foul  (sm)(*)

@strawberry-nugget

Katsuki's fangirls  (f) pregnant  (f)

BORROWED FOR THE WEEKEND  (sm)(*) @succulentmass

@sugarlywhispers

the fall  (a) villain  (a) villain!reader  (f)(a)

@sugarwarachan

ex-husband!bakugou  (h) sex pollen troubles  (s) touchstarved!bakugou  (h) ultimate fantasy  (f)

THE KISS BET  (f)(a) @suhkusa

@suksatoru

plushies galore!  (f) smile for the camera  (f)

Katsuki can't help but brag about you to his mother.  (f) @syrecjh

@tired-biscuit

nudes  (s) stepdad!bakugo  (s) stepfather bakugo  (s)

dragon king!bakugou's  (s) @tojisno1g00ner

@tteokdoroki

all of us are dead  (a) broken beauty  (a) had it  (f)(+) what he lost  (a)(+)

Love of a Slasher  (s) @valentineheart14

Turning lovin' into hatred  (sm) @valentoru

You Wanna Steal My Gold, Slut?  (s) @vvvchu

@watu2ka

child like wonder  (f) contact, finale  (f) extra, extra  (f) mark me up  (f)

@windyremedy

i'm gonna marry her anyway  (f) love at first watch  (s) meet his parents  (f) playing matchmakers  (f) unwanted wingmen  (f) you couldn't help yourself  (f)

@wonubby

glasses  (s) obsessed  (f)(+)(*) secret  (f)

@writeriguess

A House Built on Ashes  (a) Dared to Love  (f)(a) The Exception  (f) Unraveling  (a)

Unspoken Boundaries  (f)(a)

@xanneeeyyyy Damn it  (f) That's my girl  (f)

@xoxojisu

DON\'T STOP LOVING ME  (f)(a) Mommy and Daddy!  (f) thinking abt being scared to be too clingy w katsuki  (f) WE\'RE NOT DATING!  (f)

All rights reserved © l0vrgir1-2026.  Do not copy, translate, or repost my works or layouts.

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Katsuki Bakugou Part 2

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

@jujutsukatsuki

back seat of his car  (s) Falling apart  (a)

Bartender!Bakugo  (f) @justabratsworld

Bakugo who eats you out because he lost a bet  (s) @justatypicalwizard

@kateschi

a flicker, a push  (f) a language only you speak  (f) between bites and blushes  (f) by god, don\'t leave me  (a) don\'t make it weird  (f) get them fangirls away!  (f) midnight check-in  (f) second helpings  (f) surprise delivery: husband edition!  (f) texts with husband!bakugou  (sm) two heroes, one marriage  (f)

postwar relationship with katsuki  (f)(a) @katsukilvr

teacher! fem reader  (f) @katsukistofu

pretty bitches never die  (sm)(*) @katsulina

@kenforty

Mr. Fucking Cuddles  (s) overwhelmed  (s) So, you don\'t love me anymore?  (f) they were here first  (s) Whore  (s)

SHARING IS CARING  (s) @kentocidal

@keraawrites

Act right  (s) Still us?  (s)

@kingkatsuki

Secrets  (s) stepdad katsuki  (s)

Katsuki hates girls night  (sm) @kissami

ex wife!reader  (f) @konoheya

@lady-lauren

alpha Katsuki  (s) Nymphetamine  (s)(+) Step-Dad!Katsuki  (s)

dry humping  (s) @lavendarlings

yearning!bakugo headcanons  (h) @levigarden999

IS THAT MY SHIRT?  (s) @lightseoul

@lilacgaby

bait  (f) ˏˋmy last, my everything  (f)(a)(+)

looks like me already  (f) @little-fairy-forest

blood on your jeans, blisters on our feet, a huge grin full of teeth  (f)(a) @ltadoriyuujl

pro hero bakugo fucks the stress out  (s) @lunarkace

like a dog  (f) @lvmimis

Step Dad Bakugou  (s) @macnevercries

AFTER WORK WITH DAD!KATSUKI  (f) @matchlatt

@megumismyhusband

angel babies  (f) distracted  (f) meeting katsuki's parents  (f) the box  (a)

@meyoolii

birthday  (s) FWB!BAKUGOU  (h)

locket  (f) @mindless-existence1

@minkoq

baby fever with katsuki bakugou  (s) denying katsuki bakugou his orgasm  (s) katsuki\'s favourite camgirl  (s) short make out session with katsuki bakugou  (s) texts with bf katsuki  (sm)(*)

@missdynamighttt

bf! katsuki  (s) brat tamer!bakugou  (s) date night with husband! katsuki  (f) FAT ASS LIKE HERS NEEDS A REAL MAN TO FUCK IT  (s) filipina! gf  (a) frat boy katsuki  (f) frat boy, bf! katsuki  (f) goodbye kiss  (f) how in love husband! katsuki is with his dear wife  (f) make up for skipping the gym  (f) mean, pro hero! katsuki  (s) older bf! bakugo katsuki  (s) older brother\'s bestfriend! katsuki bakugo  (s) paparazzi  (f) prenups  (f) pro hero, husband! katsuki  (a) pro hero, husband! katsuki  (s) quiet  (s) secretary! reader  (a, s) shit to try w/ her  (s) shopping with bf! katsuki  (f) Situationship with Bakugo  (f) watching porn with bf! katsuki bakugo  (s)

@miyamoratsumuu

LAST CHRISTMAS  (sm) OUT OF REACH  (sm)(*)

@moonstonejpg

exbf!bakugou  (s) he isn\'t coming back  (a)

air con  (f) @myherowritings

Seeing you again  (f)(a) @naanook

@nemisuki

OᑎᒪY ᗰIᑎE  (sm) rekindled love  (f) Shared Success  (f)(a) SᗩY IT ᑭᒪᘔ  (sm)(*) ʀᴜᴍᴏʀꜱ  (f) ʜɪꜱ ᴄᴜʀᴇ  (f) ʜᴇᴀᴅʟɪɴᴇꜱ  (f) ᑎEEᗪIEST  (sm) ᴅᴇᴠᴏᴛɪᴏɴ  (f)

@nene-yasfics

Calls in the middle of the night  (f) katsuki becomes class a\'s girls no. 1 defender  (f)

Pussy Drunk  (h) @nevabelle

katsuki being jealous of you and ochaco  (f) @noriette

All rights reserved © l0vrgir1-2026.  Do not copy, translate, or repost my works or layouts.

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Katsuki Bakugou Part 1

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

fwb!bakugo  (s) @2cupids

@adoringmha

killed somebody  (f) kiss him back  (s)

edits  (f) @aezuria

Break up  (a) @angel-sweets666

We're not even dating  (sm) @anthophi-lia

cumming in his sleep  (s) @antiwhores

@aryaryxoxo

a boy who was too late  (f)(a) katsuki bakugou x neighbor!reader  (f)

@azzo0

My Wife; Your mother  (f)(a) teasing  (f)

C U GIRL  (f) @b3ach-bunn7

photo  (s) @bakug0uzb1thc

@bfbkg

boxer bakugou  (f) CRUSH  (f) japan\'s sweetheart  (f)(a) strip club owner bakugou  (f)

ex situationship!bakugo katsuki  (sm) @bkghq

@blondieeu

(2)new voicemails  (s) morning rituals.  (f) Strawberry vodka on your lips\...  (f) @bnhaobssesed

@botanicsoul

Addict in full bloom  (s) Behind the Screen  (s) Shameless  (f)

BOYFRIEND!KATSUKI SMAU  (sm)(*) @brningcigs

@bugsu

ANESTHESIA HAZE  (f) BEHIND CLOSED DOORS  (f) RELIEF  (f)

You were suppose to chase after me! You were suppose to make me stay!  (a) @call-memissbrightside

lip balm  (f) @candytoothed

@cashmoneyyysstuff

bet on it, bet on it !!  (f) CAN\'T SLEEP LOVE  (f) doesn't give a fuck  (f) jealous  (f) scream bloody murder  (f) sweaty  (f) the way things go !  (f) too mushy  (f) you still love him  (f) you\'re mad at katsuki  (f)

@cathnospam

I didn't shave  (s) subconsciously  (f) @catsoupki assistant  (f) beg  (a) bystander  (a) merch collaboration  (f)

@chaeuvy

focus  (s) messy  (f) 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘  (f)(a)(+)

texts w katsuki as your babydaddy  (sm) @cherrycosmos8

this and that  (a) @chinchillapetals

courthouse  (f) @connorsui

@creampiedby

Stepbrother Katsuki  (s) Two fucking seconds  (s)

late  (f) @crushmeeren

Bonfire banter  (sm)(*) @daetko

Is It In?  (s) @deeversuswords

@dekuneho

five in the morning  (s) reason  (s) press conference  (f) @dollyichi hybrid au  (s) @dotalicious older stepbrother bakugou  (s) @drakenology

You Left  (a) @dreamingofaizawa

deception  (s)(+) @duskamethyst

𝐅𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓  (s) @edenarchives

@elssero

it's always been you  (sm)(*) knee socks  (sm) the favour  (sm)(*)

we'll talk later  (f) @escapenightmare

𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲  (s) @evesbookshop

sneaking around with katsuki  (f) @fairytsuk1

Boyfriend!Katsuki  (s) @feathersfromwings

Cindy Lou\'s Wish  (s) @fuwushiguro

@gamblersdoll

divorced husband! katsuki  (s) eyes are up here  (s) vampire!katsuki  (h)

𝐷𝑢𝑡𝑦 𝑂𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒  (a) @ghostlycamil4

husband texts katsuki bakugou  (sm) @glitterpopbubblegum

@grenadehearts

kacchako x reader  (s)(+) katsuki with a mean girlfriend  (s)

@heartkaji

hockey player! bakugo katsuki  (f) it's not that deep  (f) SNEAKY LINK  (f) you & bakugo won't say you're dating, but there will be signs  (f)

all i want is you  (a) @heartsforkatsuki

injured prohero!wife  (a) @heartz-for-de

sleepy makeouts  (f) @heartz4angels

voice message  (s) @https-midoriya

stamina  (s) @hxltic

eepy  (f) @jamglii

husband!katsukibakugou  (s) @jeankirschteinsimp

All rights reserved © l0vrgir1-2026.  Do not copy, translate, or repost my works or layouts.

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: JJ Maybank

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

boyfriend jj  (h) @arietem

@bambrinaa

 bitchykook!reader  (s)    drugdealer!jj  (f)      Princess  (s)    thug!jj  (fa)      trailerpark!jj  (s)

@bbyg4rl

   CLINGY!BOYFRIEND!JJ  (h)  daddy gets what daddy wants  (s)    fuck around and find out  (s)    its too much  (s)    jj eats you out on your period  (d)(s)    jj loves watching it drip  (d)(s)      only you get to call him jackson  (f)    sunday church  (s)    taking 'em all  (s)    touch starved  (d)(f)

@blueicequeen19

 Desperate  (s)  hooking up with your ex  (s)  unprotected threesome  (d)(s)

   THEY DON'T KNOW ABOUT US  (f) @boundbystories

@corrcdedcoffin

 menace  (h)    Pissed  (f)(a)

   head in the back of your car  (s) @dollyfiles

   Things Left Unsaid  (f)(a) @dreaming-softly-in-the-night

@echobx

     A Virtue To Promiscuity  (s)      camp counselor!JJ  (h)    Golden Boy  (f)  stripper!JJ  (h)    vampire!girlfriend  (h)

   Dom!JJ Maybank  (d)(s) @esmeray-greenleaf

   hat on  (s) @everydaydreamer

 mama  (f) @featherandferns

   A SERIES OF WALK-INS  (f)(+) @imkindaboredioi

@jjscrybaby

   3 times you and jj fight + 1 time he kisses it better  (f)(a)    jealousy  (f)

@jjsloverre

 best kept secret  (s)      jj letting you touch him soft  (f)      rough fucking you in his new bed  (d)(s)

   dirty little secret  (s) @lunarsworld

 mock your moans  (d)(s) @maiiuelle

@maybanksbaby

   CAN'T SLEEP WITHOUT YOU  (f)    kook!reader  (f)

     gossip!girl!jj  (sm) @maybejj

@moremaybank

   bad mood  (d)(s)    biting his lip  (d)(f)    brag about his girl  (d)(s)    BREEDING KINK  (d)(s)    bubbas  (d)(f)    cum dump  (d)(s)  dad!jj  (d)(f)    dirty talk with jj  (s)    eat me  (d)(s)  exactly like you  (d)(f)    F&MU  (s)  giggling and crying  (d)(s)    hate sex  (d)(s)    hickies  (d)(s)      horror film  (d)(s)    JB\'s little sister  (d)(s)    jj eats you out for sport  (s)    keep quiet and not get caught  (d)(s)    like the IDEA  (d)(s)  mad and jealous  (d)(s)    pregnant  (d)(s)      pull his hair  (d)(s)    pussy drunk!jj  (d)(s)    RINGED  (d)(s)      secret relationship  (f)    sex in the twinkie  (d)(s)  sit on his face  (d)(s)    sitting in the lap  (d)(s)    soft kisses  (d)(f)    spitting  (d)(s)    sulking  (d)(s)    tent  (d)(s)    tittie fucking  (d)(s)    under the covers  (d)(s)    watch  (d)(s)    watching  (d)(s)  𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐨𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦  (d)(s)

   idiots in love  (d)(f) @obxcc

   Ghostface  (h) @obxobsessedbitch1

 𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐣𝐣  (sm) @personapeters

@princessbrunette

 bbf!jj was at your beck and call. reluctantly.  (f)    bsf!jj followed you on all of your social media accounts.  (f)  linecook!jj  (f)  skittles  (f)

@rafesbows

   BABY FEVER  (d)(f)  bitchy!reader patching jj up  (f)  fat crush  (h)

Swimming Realizations  (f) @shiftermia

@sleepyjuice

 fratboy!jj  (s)  pussy whipped  (f)

 roommate  (d)(s) @sunniepoo

  photos  (s) @torturedpoetism

Kisses helps. Scientifically (s) @verityasian

All rights reserved © l0vrgir1-2026.  Do not copy, translate, or repost my works or layouts.

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Peter Parker

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

@angelyuji 

 yandere!stepbro!peter parker  (s)  step bro!peter (s)  Caught (s) (d)  step brother Peter  (s) (d)  step bro peter  (s) (d) 

harry's girl (s) (+) @astxroiid 

good bad luck  (f) (+) @godlessandwrecked 

closure  (s)  @hanasnx 

Desire in the Web. (s) @ironinc 

@juneberrie 

SAY THAT YOU LOVE ME   (f)  WHEN I SEE YOU AGAIN  (a) 

Caught in the Act (Kinda)  (f) @leiawithtoomanyaddictions 

roommate!peter parker nsfw pt.2  (h) @luxbub 

 Exams   (f) @moonymarvel 

@psychoticfemmm 

Caught in the Act   (f)  movies and missed kisses   (f) (a)  you can’t put it in (s) 

 @ptergwen 

Bed side drawer  (f) my place or yours?  (s) 

@sacharinee 

accidentally finding out   (f)  homecoming dance (a) 

@shawnxstyles 

in the suit (s)  please, call me peter  (s)  panty stealer  (s) (+) 

@skywalkerslvt 

needy sub!peter parker  (s)  STARK!READER  (s)

clit slapping  (s) (d) @ssweetleaf 

@thyme-in-a-bubble

Purley a selfish request  (f)  i dare you (s) 

I’ll Cry If I Want To  (f) @waitimcomingtoo

@webslingingslasher 

BOYFRIEND FRAT!PETER   (f)  Frat!peter (s)   Modelling  (s) 

Just the tip (s) @yasministration 

All rights reserved © l0vrgir1-2026.  Do not copy, translate, or repost my works or layouts.

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Salesman (Squid Game)

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

Home Bliss (f) @aliceinborderlandsquidgame 

Emotionally Intoxicated  (s) (+) @aurasaurora 

 @burningembers91

Freak of Nature (s) Three Little Words  (s) (+) 

russian roulette (s) @carnalcrows 

100 loaves of bread. (f) @catchastarorten 

me & my husband (f) (a) @celestiamour 

I love, I love, I love  (h) @deepredtypewriter 

jealous!salesman  (d) (s) @father-time-and-baby-new-year 

𝐡𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝! 𝓢𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐍  (h) @fear-is-truth 

 FULL CIRCLE! (s) @ferrarifinnick 

 @gh0stsp1d3r 

game time  (f)  professor (s)  

@greengoblinswifey 

Sweet Revenge (s)  Fatal Attraction (s)  Fatal Attraction II (s) 

Sleepy Mornings  (f) @jov1ii 

THE KIND OF GUY (h) @miihho

BLEED  (s) (*) @mojavebluez 

@muntitled 

Tic-Tac-Toe (s)   Protecting His Investment  (s)   Blink Twice (s)   Force-Fed (s)   Indebted  (s) (+)  

VIOLATE (s) @murderofravens 

Nsfw alphabet  (h) @muzansfangs

@onceinablueberrymoon 

intentionally by chance (f)  special report  (f)  

ONE MORE NIGHT  (s) @paradlselost 

Humiliating, isn’t it?  (s) @pinkthick 

Just a Salesman   (a) @rose24207 

@vrystalius 

 Secret Love Notes. (f)  Baby fever. (f) (a) 

@voxslays 

EVERMORE (f)  MORNINGS IN  (d) (f)  HIS ESCAPE  (f)  SIZE DIFFERENCE (s) 

 @willyoubemycherryy 

Who’s your new friend?  (s)  Isn’t it past your curfew? (s) 

Sweet But Psycho  (s) @wtfaniii

All rights reserved © l0vrgir1-2026.  Do not copy, translate, or repost my works or layouts.

[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: W2S

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

𝑯𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑺𝒆𝒆𝒌 (f) @ghostwrittenbygrace 

@iheartsophie 

THE SOFT LAUNCH SLIP UP (sm)  SWEET LIKE CINNAMON  (f) 

soft launching with w2s (sm) @jayaurasky 

Wasted (a)  @kendricklvr23 

MRS HARRY (sm) @landoslvr 

headcanons (h) @livvymd 

most wanted woman on youtube (sm) @myoddessy 

@w2soneshots 

Everyone’s faves (sm)  Over the years  (sm) Hit send (f) 

 @whoetoshaw

W2S CLAN (sm)  CHARITY MATCH (sm) we listen and we don’t judge w mrs bog (f) 

@wr2shw 

Mean boy. (f)  You Forgot (a) Mean boy. (a)

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[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Steve Harrington

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

No Strings Attached (s)  @angelicarlert

Brothers Best Friend  (s)@ddejavvu 

 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 (s)  @strawberrychapstickkisses

dry spell (s)  @usedtobecooler 

 sexy drunk phone call  (s) @virginburial

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[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Henry Hart

@coffeebeanbabysdreams 

Six Minutes  (f) (a) Catch You if I Can (f) (a) (+)

DYNAMITE (s)  @theemissuniverse 

𝐂𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐞 (f) (+) @writerinlearning 

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[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Kang Dae-Ho

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

Sleep well (f)  @catchastarorten 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄  (s) (+) @cosmictheo 

Want You So Bad (s) @doodlebopflow 

CHAIN OF ARMOUR (f)(a)  @ferrarifinnick 

@gothicfied 

Never alone again (f) Why can't I let go?  (f) Sleepless Nights (f)(a)  Kang Dae-ho / Player 388 Headcanons (s) (+)

Fighter (s) (*) @idciminlove 

Want You So Bad (a) (+) @ilovebabygirls 

always there for you (f) @jynxpsiche

@lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom 

Anything Is Possible?  (f) (a) (+) At Least We Have Eachother (f)(a)

the lamp (f)(a) @meadowfics 

Future Promises (f)(a) @parkerslatte 

@player042 

HEARTBEAT (a) A DEBT TO THE HEART (f) (a) (+)

keep it to yourself  (f)(a) @romyswrld 

Dae-ho headcanons | (NSFW) (s) (+) @saymio 

a kiss in a rush of adrenaline (f) @scarletttries

OUR CAFE IN JEJU (a) @toothfa-1-ry 

LOVE MAKING  (s)  @voxslays 

for you (a) @wcnderlnds

@wqnsho 

resurface (f) (a) (+) I Hate It Here (f) (a) (+)

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[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Charles Leclerc Part 7

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

untouchable (f) @sparkle-d

All is fair in love & dogs (f) @spencerreidswifeeeeeee

guess it must be love (f)(a) @spideyanakin

@sterredem

Espresso (sm) The story (f) She's real!? (f)

Then i should stop trying too . (a) @storyslover

Worlds Apart (a) @storywriter007

@strawberrysainz

pretty visitors (f) romanticism (f) holocene (s) secret garden (f)(+)

Sienna (sm) @sunnyaf-ternoon

@sunrizef1

August  (sm) Silence  (sm)

@sydwritess

Angelic (f) behind the scenes (s)

Ferrari Friends (sm) @taetaespeaks

@targaryenluvs

actress!reader (sm) You and I, Forever (a)

scarlet fury (s) @the-flaneur

@thebearchives

it's time to be real (f) leclerc's type (f) bad liar (f) to live a lifetime with you (f)(+)

@theemporium

do that thing with your tongue again. (s) just a one night stand (s) leave the heels on (s)

@themultifanshipper

Précoce (s) Pole-sitter (s)

@theonottsbxtch

LOVE ME, BABY (sm) 7 MINUTES (s) TEACHER'S PET (f)(+) A SIN TAUGHT (s) (+)

@theringers

marked up (s) streaming (s) addicted (s) good girl (s) girls & boys (s)

@thisismeracing

A real goal getter (sm) King of manifesting (f) All because I liked a boy  (sm) My boyfriend Marc  (sm)

girlfriend of the enemy (f)(a) @tinycoffeeroom

@tommydarlings

Unnamed (f) I'll take care of you (f) one of the girls (a) dark!mean!dom!charles (s) crying eyes (s) Pretty when you cry (s)

Fade to nothing (s) @trashytracktales

@tsunodaradio

not worth the mention (f)(a) fortune favors the feline (f)(+)

silver lining (sm) @tsunomenom

@uglyducklingofthe2000s

I Can't Help You (a) Trapped (s) All In The Name Of Love (s)

Lie to Me (a) @uniquexusposts

one too many bites (s) @va1entinesg4l

@valstranquility

BEST MOMENTS (sm) we listen and we don't judge (f) ELODIE'S FIRST RACE (f)

let's just drive (f) @vamossainz55

Call waiting (s) @velvetsainz

Radio Check (sm) @verstappenspole33

@verstappensrealwife

Pinch me (f)(a) Cellophane (f)(a) Hidden Desires (s)

@verstarris

IN EVERY LANGUAGE, IN ANY PLACE (f)(+) 10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU (f) (a) (+)

@vitalverstappen

Homecoming SMAU (sm) Man's Best Wingman (f) Homecoming (f)(+)

She's Busy (f) @vroomvro0mferrari

Blue Valentine (sm) @waynesheir

Admin Turned Girlfriend (sm) @wcters

aftercare (s) @whorekneecentral

@wondergirlsthings

I See You (f) His Whole World in Two People (f) Middle of the Night (f) Red Carpet, Mon Amour (f)

off cam (sm) @writingstoraes

Karma is My Boyfriend (sm) @writtenfangirl

Crimson Hex (f) @xoln04f1xo

@xxblairexxss

Pick me up (f) Everything shower (f) Revenge (a) We'll be fine (f)(a)

Stay Mad (sm) @yumarkie

Two dogs, One girl, One love story (f) @yuyuyukiii

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[l0vrgir1]

2025 Reading Wrapped: Charles Leclerc Part 6

☆Navigation

f= fluff s= smut/suggestive a= angst h= headcannons sm= smau *=series += over 4k words

tracing tanlines under a fingertip (f) @musicallisto

maison aurore (sm) @mvclrc

my boy only breaks his favourite toys (sm) @mwahcarpenter

TEAM COLOURS (sm) @myysaints

@neferaskingdom

She's having the time of her life (f) Sign Here… Wait, What?! (f) Not a Golfer, Just a Guy in Love (f) It's Not You, It's Your Pants (f)

@no-144444

don't dim your light (f) side street (f) swaddle (f) you really don't care (a) mistakes and miscalculations (f)(a)

random bf texts with Charles! (sm) @nono-serves

HURT ME (f) @norcigs

@norris55s

she devil (sm) april fools' day (sm) chaotic texts (sm)

@norrisainz33

amore (sm) move on  (sm) winter break  (sm) Secrets  (sm)

LIKE AN UNKNOWN SIGN (sm) @nouvellevqgue

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 (f) @old-lenorah

show don't tell (sm) @onlyangel4

all because i liked a boy (sm) @oscah81

don't you make me (a) @oscpstri

promises (f)(a) @oscrp81stri

wraps ⠀ her ⠀ lips ⠀'round ⠀ a ⠀ Mexican ⠀ Coke (sm) @oscsnerd

drunken confession (sm) @paddockletters

@paddocklove

if life is a movie, then you're the best part (f) impossible to ignore you (f)(a)

Mon Petit Doudou (f)(+) @pampushky

when did you get hot? (sm) @patchoff

soft whispers (f) @paucubarsisimp

Midnight Cravings (s) @pha55ed

surprise? (sm) @piastridreams

if you keep it just yours (sm) @piastriprincess

opposite (sm) @piastrisun

@pierregazly

i know places (sm) to live for the hope of it all (sm)

Slipping Away (a) @pitstopparadise

The Short Con (sm) @planetpiastri

when you know, you know (sm) @plantlover28

accidental soft launch (f) @potatobreads

forgive me, i've got an appetite (s) @predestinatos

@pucksandpower

Sainz!Reader (sm) Newsflash (f) Made with Love (f) The Ghosts We Carry (a) The Softest Place to Land (f)(a) Mon Soleil (f)(a) Family Feud (s) Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader (sm) Charles Leclerc x Vettel!Reader  (sm) road rage (sm)

@rawrfrferrari

Call It What You Want (sm) It Wasn't Him (sm)

@rebelwrites

I Didn't See It Coming (f) Home Race And Heartbreak (f)

@redclercs 

can he fight?  (sm) begin again (sm)

@rex-rambles

SOMETHING FISHY (f)(+)

SUGAR (f) (a) (+)

That jawline speaks for itself (f) @roze-latte-zz

@sainztropez

mr. wrong (sm) vroom vroom (f)

@sainzzreputaticn

pink streaks (sm) shoot your shot (sm)

listened (d) (s) @saudisack

All You Got (f) (a) (+) @scuderiahoney

she's not my girlfriend (f)(+) @seasidetom

@sharlsworld

rule breaker (sm) my best friends brother (sm)

@silkdrs

diff girl? nah, diff hair (sm) JE T'ADORE (f) MEDITERRANEAN SUMMER (f)

@silversainz

'family' party (a) rumors to rest    (sm) softcore  (sm) secrets out   (sm) put a ring on it  (sm) Champion  (sm) Charles leclerc x reader (sm) 

@sinofwriting

Surprise (f) Wine (a) Karma (f)(a) Toy (s)

birds of a feather (f)(+) @snoopyracing

@sofs16

lacy (a) endgame  (sm) just making sure  (sm) sleepy 16  (sm) ferrari boys  (sm) perceval shark (sm)

@softtdaisy

it takes what it takes (f) CRUEL LOVE (a) the tragedy (a) THE OTHER ONE (a)

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