Tabloid Junkie
BadEra!Michael x Actress!Fem Reader
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❥ 𝚂𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚒𝚜 ~ You and Michael are having your first interview together after you took a years long sabbatical from acting. The public is dying to know how the traveling tour life has been for you both.. among other things.
❥ 𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝 ~ Michael and the Reader are married, Father!Michael and Mom!Reader, mentions of sex, slight angst if you squint, fluff, baby fever Michael, lightly proof read
(A.N this is gonna be a two parter because i’ve been tryna write this fic for like a month and have been pushing it off 💀)
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It had been a year and a few months since you took a much needed sabbatical after giving birth to you and Michael’s first child.
A healthy baby girl, her face a beautiful symphony of you both; Phoenix Katherine Jackson.
Immediately after the knowledge her conception, you discussed with your agency about the time off you would need after her birth, which led to your disappearance from the media for the past twelve and some months
Michael wanted to do the same, but his obligations were set in stone way before Phoenix was thought of, which is why you and your infant were at every stop, every rehearsal, and every other billion things Michael had going on.
You stayed behind the scenes mostly, keeping your personal life a secret, as much as a world renowned actress married to a world renowned singer possibly could, and the tabloids hated it.
You would receive endless calls and letters begging to interview you both about this new journey, all sources eager to get the scoop before the other. You declined on multiple occasions, but they called so much that your face would burn with annoyance each time the phone rang, regardless of who was calling.
They even tried to get to you through Michael, pulling on the heartstrings of the altruistic individual.
“Cmon angel, they just wanna see you. Hear about your experience as a mother to the most special gift given.” He’d attempt to convince you with that sincere sweetness in his voice, but unfortunately for the press, it would not work.
“It’s none of their business,” you’d shut the idea down instantly, not allowing for further protest. “I want this time for me to be with my family. My daughter and my husband. This is sacred for me.” You emphasized, and he never asked you again.
Of course, he still participated in interviews by himself, part of his contractual agreements, but he kept answers regarding you and Phoenix pretty vague. As expected, the media did not like this.
The tabloid rumors flooded in quickly. Out of this world suspicions circulating like a forming tornado. Headlines questioning if the baby even exists, or if its just some publicity stunt. Theories of the baby being adopted, but nothing that really got to you two.
Until one specific headline surfaced, using Michael’s past song titles to really hit a nerve.
"Billie Jean is his lover, but the kid is still not his! - 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚊 𝚙𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚝𝚢 𝚜𝚌𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊𝚕??"
The letters were a blaring bold, sitting on top of a photo containing you both, your eyes locked into each other’s with his arm around your waist.
Michael saw it first, a hurt and annoyance painted on his face as he went to show you the gossip.
You were on the floor with your baby when he walked in with a quickness, his slender figure tense as you heard each step he made. “Look” is all he said, handing you the newspaper.
Your eyes trailed the page as Phoenix cooed beside you, tugging on your shirt. “Cute.” you said sarcastically, tossing the paper to the side in indifference. “Their creative juices are really flowing.”
Michael grabbed the discarded tabloid before sitting next to you and placing it back in your view. “No, read this.” His finger points to a particular section, moving away with a subtle shake once he knows your eyes locate it.
“Mr. and Mrs. Jackson have been very hush about their private parental life, could it be that the alleged child is not Michael’s? Has he been cuckolded into fathering another man’s child, working day and night while his wife fraternizes with the baby’s real dad?” you’re mumbling the words at first, but as you continue, your voice raises slightly, the sentence becoming verbally clear.
“Are they serious?!” You laugh with disbelief. “This is crazy, they must really be desperate.” A scoff echoes from your throat.
Michael was not as amused, so you shift your tone. “What is it baby?” you sit the article down, shifting your attention to him.
He takes a deep sigh, thinking about how to say what he’s thinking. “I don’t like them saying that stuff about you, about her.” He gestures to the small child who was now placing one of his fingers in her mouth, biting down every so often.
“Michael, it's no big deal.” You laugh it off. “We know what’s true, we both know she’s yours..”
“I know.. that’s not it though.” He looks down at Phoenix, her tiny face looking back. “I don’t want it to get worse. I mean they’re already calling me a cuck,” You snort, and he looks at you with his mouth agape in a smirking manner. “Ha-ha” he responds sarcastically, but completely smiling at the way your laughter fills the atmosphere.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry.” You wave your hands back and forth as you shake your head, trying to hold back laughter. “That word is just really funny to me” you explain, as you reel yourself back in. “Ok sorry, continue.”
“Maybe we should just… do an interview. Just one! get them off our backs.” He suggests sheepishly, playing with the baby to avoid your gaze.
You groan, laying your forehead on his shoulder. “Michael come onnn.” You draw it out, the stubbornness apparent.
“Angel, we’ll just do one. That’s it, and we can review the questions beforehand, I promise” He’s rubbing your back as you’re resting on him, placing quick kisses to where he can reach.
Finally you let up, looking into his eyes with a subtle pout. “Do we really have to?” you ask while his palm cradles your cheek.
He shrugs. “It would help.” The tone conveys certainty. “I know you want this to be special and private for us, but it’s getting ferocious out there. I don’t want our girl having to see this stuff in the future.”
You sigh at the sentiment as you move closer to your husband and child, letting your lips land tenderly on his cheek, lingering there for a moment.
You sit beside him, laying your head on his shoulder, allowing him to slide his free arm around your waist, the other being held hostage by the beautiful creation the two of you share. You make grabby hands at her, talking in that baby voice she goes ecstatic for.
She releases Michael’s slender finger so she can wobble-walk towards you, stumbling a few times along the way. She tumbles into your lap, and laughter erupts between the three of you, filling this perfect little bubble that encapsulates your family… The bubble that you and your other half fought so hard for. The bubble that you would do anything to protect…
So you gave in.
“Fine..” You exhale heavily through your nose, a tiny flair shows on your nostrils.
“Fine?”
“Yes, fine.” Is all you say at first, then the silence lingers. “Just one, right Mike? Like after this I can tell them to-“ You look down at Phoenix before finishing your sentence, covering her ears, “fuck off?” you whisper loudly as the baby tries to pry your hands away.
He stifles a laugh, pecking your nose before he nods. “Yes, angel. Just one.” His hand squeezes your thigh gently as he speaks, words laced with laughter.
“Then we better get the most widespread network for it.” You acknowledge, grabbing the news article to look at the headline again. “Jesus, what schmuck wrote this.” You mumble in annoyance.
But that wasn’t even the worst of it. Right beside the text was a photo of you holding Phoenix while talking to a man. The subtitle reading “Mrs. Jackson and the mystery man she could be having an affair with.”
Michael just watches as you examine it, the baby now resting in his lap, grabbing at his shirt. “Michael what the hell is this?” You say covering your mouth to hold back laughter.
The man was your brother. “This was literally taken outside my mom’s house are you kidding me?” You’re laughing now and Michael grows curious.
“Wait, really?” He leans over to peer at the photo, and you point to the painted mailbox also in the photo. Once he realizes, he’s laughing at the idiotic assumption.
“This is just, just insane.”
And that is how you ended up where you were now.
~ August 19th, 1988 ~
The camera and sound crew were hooking you and Michael up to some microphones while adjusting your seating arrangements.
Once they’re finished, Michael calls his manager over, just to make sure everything is what was agreed to.
“They have the questions they’re allowed to ask, right?” He looks at the man holding a notebook with instructions as he absentmindedly laces his fingers between yours. “They know that we’ll scrap everything if they go off course.”
“Yes, Michael. Everyone is informed of the situation.”
“Good.. good.” you whisper to yourself, fiddling with the hand that Michael has connected to yours.
He turns to you after his manager checks a few more things then walks off. “You ready? Everything okay in there?” He asks, pointing to your temple then kissing the same spot.
You just nod. “Just wanna get this over with.. wanna be home with our girl.” You mumble, tears building in your throat, but no one would ever be able to tell just by looking at you.
“Me too.” He coos, pulling you closer to him. “It’s gonna be fine, we’ll be home soon.” His voice is gentle, trying to coax you off the ledge, the same way he does every time you get like this.
“Ok..” You say gently and not fully convinced. “I just hope she’s okay.” Your thoughts begin trailing off with your voice.
When Phoenix was born, you had intense separation anxiety towards her, and a pit would form in your chest every time you were away. That’s why wherever you were, so was she, except today and it made your chest burn.
“Alright Mr. and Mrs Jackson, we’ll be ready in about 15 minutes.” One of the camera crew announced, snapping you back to reality while the others made sure everything was in correct order.
While you waited for the interviewer, the two of you exchanged sweet nothings to each other, his lips up to your ears and your lips up to his.
“You look so pretty, can’t wait to have you all to myself.” He would murmur, letting his teeth graze your lobe. Giggles escaped your mouth, flooding the room as if two teenagers were occupying it.
“Michaelll!” You would draw out playfully, hiding your face, still getting shy after all these years.
He was distracting you from the current circumstance, and he was damn good at it too. That was until the interviewer finally mosied her way into the room.
She was a short lady, fair white skin, her hair a burnt auburn red. She wore a brown and red plaid skirt with pantyhose and a red blazer with a white blouse beneath.
Michael stood first when she approached, and you followed slowly.
“Hello Mr. Jackson, Mrs. Jackson.” She reached her hand out to shake you and your husband’s but her interaction with you was slightly different. Much more curt, and a little stand-offish.
You already knew how this interview was going to go.
“I have already been informed on the regulations on today’s interview, so there should be no issues on my behalf, I hope to receive the same from you both.” Her eyes cut to you before she takes her seat. You raise a brow, turning to Michael to see if he noticed but his attention is elsewhere.
“Great. Glad we’re on the same page.” The smile on your face is wide and fake, quickly falling.
A guy from the camera crew walks over and whispers into the interviewer’s ear and she nods.
“Alright we’re going live in five, four, three, two..” The man points as a nonverbal cue, signaling the okay to start.
“Good afternoon this is Mandy Cox, and I am here with the world’s most famous, multi-talented, and right now, most under fire couple, Mr. and Mrs. Michael Jackson.” She looks straight into the camera as she begins her introductions, her eyes meeting you both after. “Pleasure to have you both here.”
You smile. “Pleasure to be here.” It’s short, but it suffices.
Michael noticed your irate nature, so he squeezes your hand, a gesture to reel you back in.
“So, Michael, how is the tour?” She crosses her legs as she waits for his response.
He inhales sharply and you smirk, knowing exactly what he’s thinking, and knowing he won’t say it aloud.
“It is great, y’know?” He shifts in his seat. “I’ve got my girls with me, my wife and my baby girl,” His hand meets your thigh and squeezes it, encouraging your hand to rest on top of his.
“The fans, the crowd, it’s all really invigorating, getting to make people happy, I just, I love it.” He smiles and looks at you, and you return the sentiment, kissing his cheek.
“Wonderful!” The interviewer interrupts the moment, bursting the bubble before continuing.
“And you, Mrs. Jackson, how has your sabbatical and tour life been?” Her attention shifts to you, eyes displaying a fake warmth. “Are you finally ready to share what motherhood has been like for you?”
The question is backhanded, and your face twitches, trying not to grimace. Your fists clench subtly, and you pray the camera catches it.
“It has,” you take a deep sigh. “It’s been great. Definitely long days of tour, but it’s worth being with Michael and seeing him watch his daughter grow up.” You emphasize that last portion, making note that you have seen the headlines.
“Aw, how sweet is that?” She shifts her eyes to the camera and tilts her head for effect. “And how old is the little angel? The world didn’t even truly know that you gave birth!”
The diss again, and your jaw clenches, turning to Michael before you say something that could get you blacklisted. He reads your face immediately, and picks up the question for you.
“She’s one and a half. Almost two soon.” His entire face lights up as he talks about his bundle of joy. “She’s really precious, just tiny and sweet.” He’s gushing, and you lean on him smiling, leaving a kiss to his shoulder before you return back to your normal sitting position.
“That is just,” she clasps her hands together and also gushes, “just so adorable, so precious.” She flips through her notepad before continuing.
“So Mrs. Jackson, you look amazing, no one would ever be able to tell you were pregnant!” She leans in, “What’s your secret?” She drops her voice.
You lean in as well, narrowing your eyes. “Genetics.” You reply simply, and you lean back, Michael’s arms wrapping around your hips as you do, while he tries to hold back a chuckle.
Mandy nods with a silent “oh!’, almost like she was embarrassed for asking
“I’m teasing.” You say laughing, and she follows suit awkwardly.
“I mean yeah, genetics, but also I’ve been getting some cardio in, because my husband here loves to make me dance with him.” You gesture to the man next to you, he gives you a fake look of betrayal.
“Make?” He squeezes your hip gently making you giggle.
You look at him with the softest look and nod. “Yes, he makes me dance.” You return your eyes back to the interviewer. “All through the tour he’s telling me, ‘baby, come dance with me, lemme show you this move I wanna try.’ and soon he’s holding me and spinning me.”
Your face is beet red, reliving all those nights where he would hold you, and sometimes Phoenix and just move with you.
He kisses your temple. “Yeah, I just wanna dance with my girls.” He smiles. “Sometimes we’ll dance with the baby, and she’ll just take her tiny hands and lace them in my hair.” He’s demonstrating it on himself, and you giggle.
“She does!” Your laughter increases. “She’ll even start to coo, and recently she’s been clapping at certain moves that her daddy shows us.”
The interviewer watches as the two of you interact, her face a cold smile as if she’s not getting what she wanted. Like she’s not getting the drama that she hoped for.
“Well isn’t that just so cute!” She breaks in, pulling the attention back to her.
Your eyes cut, thin slits make their way back towards her, tongue holding back everything you want to say to this bitch.
“Yeah.. it is..” Reality struck, and you’re still here, not in your bubble with Michael and your child.
“And Michael..” She starts, not giving your response the time of day. “Even with all the rumors speculating the paternity of the child, what is it like being a father?”
His face grows flush, an irritation starting to form in him too, and he hesitates, but you intervene.
“Mikey can I say something before you answer?”
You turn to him, placing your hand to his cheek, your thumb grazing his plush bottom lip and he nods gently.
“Yes, of course angel.” he turns to kiss your palm with a smile before you return.
You adjust, flattening out your clothes and sitting up straight. “Can you make sure everything can be heard and seen?”
You look at the camera crew and they nod slowly.
“Good!” Your hands overlap on your knees. “I would just like everyone who is creating, and indulging in these idiotic rumors about Michael being our child’s father, to get a life!”
Your face has the widest smile, and your tone was as peppy as a cheerleader’s but you were completely fuming internally.
“If you must know, Michael and I waited until marriage, and from that point, because we all know how sex works right?”
You gesture to the interviewer and to Michael, who nod awkwardly.
“Right??” You ask again, eliciting a retreated “yes” from the interviewer.
“Great! So from that point, I got pregnant! And I decided to take a break so that I can be pregnant! Crazy, I know!” Your hands fly in the air and flop down as if you’re saying something monumental.
Michael is hiding behind his hands, trying to hold back a laugh and hide from embarrassment.
“So I gave birth to my baby, and we have been raising her. In private, because we do not owe you, or anyone else an inlet to our child. She is our child.” Your voice has grown serious now, anger lilt in the tone.
“So think about that next time before you say things like I am cuckholding my husband, because he satisfies me puh-lenty!”
The interviewer sits wide-eyed while Michael chokes on a snort.
“Th-thank you baby.” He has a full grin, and you avoid his eyes because you know you’ll burst into laughter with him.
“Well you heard it here first, Michael is indeed the father! So what is that like for you?” She tries to reel it back in and you feel so satisfied.
Michael is still in the after stages of processing what just happened and runs his palm down his face, an attempt at straightening it.
“Yeah I love being a father. It is something I wanted for a while.” He takes a deep sigh and moves closer to you, his body heat giving you that familiar comfort that you yearn for.
“I always wanted to raise a kid differently than I had been, we both had.” he glances at you and you nod in agreeance
“It is very important to us.” You add.
“And with that you know, I love seeing her be a mother, it’s very beautiful, watching a shift in her after Phoenix was born.” He begins, his voice trailing like it's reciting a memory.
“Small things too, like watching her feed our child on the rocking chair in the nursery while the sun shines down on them both, it is like God himself painted this scene for me, and I have the honor of cherishing it.”
The way he describes it makes your heart swell. “Oh Mikey…” You whisper out, hiding your face so your tears won’t show.
“Isn’t he just the sweetest?” The interviewer asks, handing you a box of tissues absentmindedly. You shoo them away with a wave, going to grab a silk handkerchief from your purse, dabbing at the corners of your eyes with the gentle fabric.
“Sensitive skin.” You inform, smirking as she looks stunned at your audacity, the tissue box hanging in the air from her grip. “I can’t just put any old, cheap tissue on my face.” The dig is personal, more-so to the interviewer herself rather than the napkins.
“But yes, Michael is the most precious man I’ve ever known, the only man I’ve ever loved.” The words meet his ears, like a hook turning his face to yours, meeting your devout gaze. A smile curls on both your faces, noses connecting and grazing each other for a split second.
“Stop it! Making me blush.” His smile is wide as he speaks, eyes looking down at his hands fiddling with the fabric of his pants. Your hand meets his there, grasping and interlocking both you and Michael’s fingers.
Mandy watched with faux adoration, her smile reading one thing, but the way her eyes squint telling another tale.
“Wow, aren’t you two just, just so in love!”
Even with the shrill of her voice attempting to cut through your moment, you stay in that bubble, drowning out all nuisance. Absentmindedly you respond, eyes still locked on your lover’s.
“Yeah… we are..” The grin on your face is impeccably shit-eating, completely satisfied in her annoyance. “Being with him, watching him on his journey and ours, it’s like listening to my favorite song, the one that could never get old, each moment feeling like I’m hearing it for the very first time.”
Tooth-achingly sweet aura envelopes you both, magnetizing you and Michael’s lips closer. They connect for a moment, the feeling of his warmth completely dissipating all things around you. Its surface level of course, due to the tugging reality that Michael was not quite able to escape. Tongues never clashed, but the steam of the brief smooch made it just as heated as if the muscle was involved.
A smile curls into your lips just before Cox’s voice reels you back in. “Oh wow, look at the time!” She interrupts awkwardly, attempting to steal the attention of the camera.
When you pull away from Michael, you lick your lips, letting your teeth graze the bottom for a split second. “Sorry,” you murmur to him with a smirk. “Got carried away..”
His fingers cover his curled lips, reminiscent of the lingering sensation of your plush lips on him. “Yeah, I bet.”
“We’ll be right back with Mr. and Mrs. Jackson after this commercial break!
~To Be Continued~
(ending a.n ~ I wanna interact with you guys more!! if you have any fic requests or questions or just wanna send me random blabs my requests are open lovies! ~love, your rockstargf)