wait also, please do a mini fic I liveeee for ur manager Michael! perhaps where reader is at an award show & things get a little steamy in the car afterwards? like he’s just sort of fed up. poor guy.
anyways, I love love your writing!!
᭄᭡ writes: love you for this, the wheels in my brain are turning with a capital T
Also surprise surprise, a mini fic!
tw: sexual tension, boob massage!, hickeys, older man/younger woman, hurt/comfort?, age gap
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
your album release was a massive success. michael was impressed with youtube’s outreach to fans, and often reviewed the stats on your short films. he had them released periodically over the next few months, proud of the ones you had him direct or oversee. he learned to deal with the small squeeze of jealousy in his heart when your most popular song with your co-star proved triumphant over the others.
it was a basic music video, with no real storyline behind it. empty, like michael had originally told you. he indulged you, though. how could he resist your sweetness? he was compelled to give you what you wanted and found himself at war with his position as your manager and his desire to have a different relationship with you. you were a good friend, a kind person, and a magnetic force to be reckoned with. he felt attracted to you beyond your looks; your soul called to him, and he felt weak to break the chain that wrapped around his heart.
you begged him to come with you to your first awards show. he closed his eyes slowly after he gently turned you down, saying he didn't want to upstage you on the red carpet and give the media a feeding ground of junk to post about you. he wasn’t an idiot to know what his presence brought to any event; it was chaos, and he would rather support you from behind the scenes.
he loved you, though. maybe that's why he forced himself to stay away. he’d not known you for too long, but you formed a deep connection with him quickly. he wondered if being your manager was a good idea in the long run. maybe after this album’s release and the first year of touring would be sufficient to let you go. release the bird from its nest.
“michael, why are you being so weirduhhh?” your whine came through the phone. “you’re the reason for the album's success.”
his lips squeezed into a thin smile. sometimes he forgets how young you are. and bratty.
“maybe you can ask your co-star to join you,” he hums.
you clicked your tongue. “don't be like that, i don't want people to think i'm leeching onto his success for my own.”
ah, now you say that? he wonders to himself bitterly.
“and that’s exactly what everyone will speculate if i'm there with you.” he replies instead.
you barked out a laugh, startling him. “but you are the reason for my success!”
“no, fox,” he replied gently, nails picking at the couch armrest. “i’m not.”
no one replied for a bit, just silent breaths exchanged over the receiver. he patiently waited for your response, not expecting anything other than a bite back. when you didn’t say anything for a few minutes, michael chewed his inner cheek, his eyes darting around the room.
“michael?” he finally heard you ask, so softly he almost missed it.
so he did. under the condition that he would take a few pictures with you, then retreat with the rest of the team while you did your rounds of interviews on the carpet. you agreed, and autumn came fast. you were up for the new artist of the year at the american music awards, having been nominated for a few other awards as well, such as song of the year, collaboration of the year, and best music video.
chanel designed your outfit for the night, custom-made to fit your body only. you asked michael to match with you again, to which he silently complied. he was not excited about the field day the paparazzi would have with that. he rode with you in the limo to the event, and a few other people crowded in with you. your makeup artist is touching up your face as you hold still as best as you can in the moving car, while another person dowsed michael in his best cologne.
he noticed your side glance at him when the sprays fluttered around you and he smiled at how your nose flared. “do you need some?” he joked.
you tutted at him and turned away. now, your assistant tightened a part of your outfit. “what, you’re telling me there’s still something left in there?”
he giggled mischievously, patting your knee. “i'm just playin’, fox.”
your hand smoothed over his, rubbing the back of it absentmindedly as you were adjusted. he let you touch him there, your nails fingering one of his rings. he leaned over to get a better look at your face and you turned to look at him fully. he studied your face from behind his shades, grateful for the cover.
you looked exquisite, bold. you smiled a little at him, and he squeezed your knee twice, a silent conversation taking over.
you shook your head subtly.
he rubbed a thumb over your thigh repeatedly, warming your skin beneath the cloth. he gave you one slow, deliberate nod.
you pursed your lips and closed your eyes for a moment, releasing a tense exhale. your assistant finally noticed and looked up at you two. michael leans back, but not before letting his hand slide along your leg and dropping it in his lap.
you climbed out of the car with him, your hand tucked into the crook of his arm as you walked into the arena. led by a few bodyguards and your team trailing behind you, michael let you release his hold a few times to meet and greet people, exchanging kisses and half-hugs. he practically felt the excitement humming through your body, your cheeks swelling with smiles all around.
he wanted to see you happy like this all the time.
he desperately tried to calm the patter of his heart when the paparazzi called to him on the red carpet with you. he gave a few peace signs to the snapping photographers and waved to a barrage of screaming fans behind the barrier, but the hand at your side remained strictly above your waistline and barely held you there. the photographers were not deterred.
“michael, michael, are you dating?”
“michael, over here! kiss her!”
“honey, can you look at michael?”
“kiss him, kiss him! one kiss, c’mon!”
he felt you giggle, a manicured hand on his chest as you obliged naively to the commands of the photographers. a plastered smile on his lips, he felt–no, smelled–you get closer to his face, your body heat radiating like a fire to his skin. he hardly remembered feeling your glossy lips on his cheek, only remembering the sudden roar of noise from the photographers, a million flashes blinding his eyes.
well, they got their front page for tomorrow.
your performance was phenomenal, something michael had overseen himself. he shared a standing ovation with the arena, smiling wide and clapping hard at the finale. he was more than happy you had decided to perform one of other popular songs from your album and not the collaboration with your co-star. maybe it was his way of having you to himself, musically at least.
michael held your hand tight when the award ceremony began. he rubbed smooth circles into the back of your hand as they called out the nominees for new artist of the year. when your name was announced, he jerked your hand up and urged you to rise. dazed, you smiled broadly and leaned over to him. he returned your warm hug, but did not expect you to plant a giant kiss on the corner of his mouth in front of everyone.
the hall erupted into thunderous cheers and whistles at the sight and he felt rather than saw you run up the stage, the corner of his lips burning him.
you minx, he thought as he watched you hug the presenters. that stunt will be all everyone will talk about and nothing about your success.
your speech was emotional, but to the point. you thanked your team, your family and friends, and then, directed your entire body to him and pointed with a delicate finger in his direction. you were breathless and your eyes shone with emotion.
“michael, michael!” you cheered into the microphone, the crowd behind him applauding at his name. you brought a hand to your chest, overwhelmed. he laughed a little. you were really selling it.
“ladies and gentlemen, without this man, i would be nothing. nothing!” you exclaimed. “he showed me what it is to be in this industry, he taught me everything i know, and i want you to know, i love you. i really do. thank you so much for giving me a chance. you’re a legend. i love you, michael.”
the roar of the arena shook the earth. michael blew you a small kiss and placed his hands together in thanks. you waved at him and jumped up and down, excitedly. the presenters by your side laughed and guided you away. michael’s head was swimming as he watched you being led into the curtains, with his eyes shaded.
“what’re you doing,” he later asked you in the limo ride back home. “feeding the media like that?”
you swiveled your head away from your purse to look at him, puzzled but still smiling. “huh?”
he continued looking out the window. “you know what i mean. i told you about this.”
he heard you chuckle, followed by a shuffle of clothing. you moved away from him a little. “relax, it’s showbiz, right?”
he turned to you with his shades turned down on his nose. you locked eyes with him as he held you there. only silent disappointment stayed pregnant in the air. “don’t you be tellin’ me those things now, fox. you know how i feel about all those…rumors.”
he folds his shades slowly in his fingers, waving his hair out of his face. he blinks at you, once, before raising his eyebrows expectantly. you held his gaze, almost defiant.
“i dont get what’s so wrong about what i did,” you retorted. “thats just how i show love.”
he leans back into the car seat, nodding his head. “ohhhh, i see. thats how you show love, huh?”
“michael, don’t be like that,” you started with an eye roll. he raises a hand to stop you.
“no, no.” his tone is dangerously light now. “you said that’s how you show love. you show affection like that to everyone? or am i just super lucky to be shown off in front of hundreds of cameras?”
your eyes dart away a little ashamed and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. he cocks his head to follow your eye direction. he stares at you, burning holes through the side of your face, waiting.
finally, you sigh. “look, im sorry. i got carried away.”
he puffs out a stream of air from his nose and settles back into his seat. “yeah.”
he hears you shuffle closer and his body stiffens. you’re close enough to where he can smell your intoxicating perfume, his favorite one. “michael, i’m so sorry. i didn’t even think about it like that. but i really meant it, every word. you mean the world to me.”
he lets his head fall back against the headrest, and closes his eyes. “i’m not upset at you for what you said, fox. i really do appreciate what you said.”
more than you will ever know.
you threw your hands out. “the hell did i do then?”
he snaps his eyes open and turns to look at you. your faces are very close now. “the goddamn tabloids. you just need to know when to quit. there’s a time and place for these things and you, of all people, know how they hound me for anything i do.”
“this is why i didn't want to come out,” he can't stop himself from sitting up and waving his shades at you. “anything ‘michael jackson’ does is a statement. something they can twist into garbage for their rotten papers. instead of keeping it light, you fed into it! you fed into the very people who will turn around and throw mud in your mouth for anything you say or do.”
all you seemed to be able to do was gape at him, but he saw your eyes shining with water. softening his face, he took your hand in his with a gentle grasp. your head ducked down a little, but you maintained eye contact with him. he lowered his head to look into your eyes. your beautiful, watery eyes.
“look,” he rubbed his free hand over your clasped ones. “it’s gonna be fine. i don't care about me anymore, it is what it is. i’m worried for you, girl. i wanted this to be your night of success, all your accomplishments, your hard work…”
he held your eyes expectantly. he finally smiled when you nodded a little.
“they ain't gonna see none of that now because all they wanna see is what they wanna sell.” he lifted his folded shades to bop your nose. “a story.”
when his antic didn’t elicit more than a blink out of you, he stroked your chin with a thumb. “smile for me, fox. don’t cry.”
your teeth finally shone through your tightened lips with a broken giggle. he laughed softly back with you, pushing back your baby hairs. you gave a few harsh sniffles before poking a finger into the corner of your eye. god, now he felt bad.
he dropped his shades somewhere behind him. “come here, sweet girl.”
you seemed to welcome his embrace, knees knocking together as your head settled into the crook of his neck. he soothed you through your fading sniffles, stroking your back with a wide hand. “i didn’t mean to be so harsh, i’m just….i’m just looking out for you, okay?”
he felt your voice rumble in his neck. “yeah, i know. i just don't like when you're mad at me.”
“mad?” he laughed, pulling you back from him. he raised your hand to his lips, placing a few open-mouthed kisses along the back of your knuckles. he felt your grip loosen in his as he peppered affection to your hand. “i’m not mad, love.”
you gave him a wobbly smile. “you sure?”
he peeked up at you from behind your hand, molding the word, “positive.” into your skin.
he felt he had to make it up to you, poor thing, you were probably so unraveled from the entire experience. he hears you sigh a little and scoot closer to him as his lips leave a trail of soft kisses up your forearm. he lets his arm wrap around your back to squeeze you closer to his body, letting the both of you settle back into the car’s cushions.
michael feels your eyes on him, watching as he soundly kisses up your arm, nibbling your shoulder. he delights in hearing your low hum, and he feels a flame of desire stir in his chest. he lifts his head from your shoulder, but before you can catch his eyes, he ducks it quickly into the crevice of your neck.
you gasp lightly as his right hand, laced with your fingers in his, pulls closer to his chest so you can feel his heartbeat pounding against his suit. he lets his hungry mouth latch onto your neck, lathered in oil and perfume, suckling on that sweet spot under your jaw. your head instinctively tilts to give him access, your eyes fluttering shut.
“michael–” is all you can get out before his other hand slides up from your waist to cradle the underside of your breast. it rubs almost mischievously before snatching it with a full clamp. your lack of a bra does not compensate for the instant prickle your nipples feel against his fingers, boldly massaging you there.
“i’m so proud of you,” he whispers into the kisses he presses by your collarbone. he lets his teeth graze you there. “you did so well tonight.”
the four awards you won that night could not replace the damp feeling creeping between your legs and he smelled it.
your free hand came up to join michael’s, holding his palm against your breast. he took it as a sign to massage you there, squeezing and pinching at the center. your head fell back a little with a little squeal. he tugged you closer still.
“fox,” michael breathed out.
three knocks pattered by the window, snapping you both into a shock. like a deer caught in headlights, your eyes snapped open and you jerked away from him a little. slowly, he unraveled your bodies and hands and straightened his jacket out. he glanced over at you to make sure you were clean before clearing his throat. he slipped his shades back onto his nose.
“mr. jackson, first stop.” the driver called from behind the car door. he looked over to you, almost defeatedly. your hotel. shame he wasn’t staying with you. he had another residence not too far from the arena, so there was no need for him to really book with your team.
he helped you collect your awards, handing the doorman your bag and shaking his hand. you climbed out of the limo, and he grasped your wrist before you left. “call me tomorrow, yeah?”
you flashed a sweet smile at him and he nearly clambered out of the car with you. “of course, michael.”
he squeezed once before letting go, the chauffeur shutting the door after you. michael watched your hips sway a little as you were escorted up the steps to the hotel lobby, greeted by two doormen. against all better judgement, he rolled the windows down, calling your name.
you turned, your dress swishing behind you. He caught a glimpse of a blooming dark spot by your neck and gave you a mischievous but knowing look.
“don’t read the tabloids tomorrow, right?” he reminded you.
Your eyelids lowered at him. “never.”
his lips sharpened into a smug smile, before rolling up the window slowly. “good girl.”
ꫂ❁ thoughts from saff: sorry if its not smutty enough, I wanted to keep it a little realistic with him being a pretty private person, not someone who trusts easily, and essentially struggles with being professional with you or allows himself to become a problem for HR
