michael jackson x celebrity reader
summary: you decide to wear a revealing outfit for a change to an event where you just so happen to know michael will be attending.
content: flirting, yearning, jealousy, fluff, suggestive (ish) but no smut.
“I’m wearing a miniskirt, but why are you the only one who doesn’t notice?” ~ AOA
a/n: I was listening to miniskirt by AOA, this idea spawned, and now I’m making it everyone’s problem 😋. also idk why I have an obsession with using cary elwes to make mj jealous, but I find the ongoing theme funny lmao. alsoo, did anyone catch the jackson wang reference (iykyk)?
last ‘also’, but a reminder that any photos I use are purely for aesthetics, and I refrain from describing the reader so that everyone can feel included - I’m wasian, but I didn’t want to only use photos of visibly white girls as that excluded many readers.
anywaysss I loved writing this soo enjoyy.
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The second I stepped out of the car, the air shifted. The feeling of all heads turning, drawing out a few gasps from supportive girls and grins from men too bold for their own good.
Flashes from cameras captured everything as I entered the venue: the glitter dusting my skin, the shine from my jewellery, tall designer heels that emphasis my legs - covered by the sheerest tights.
The outfit I wore boarded the line between chic elegance and scandalous. So unusual from my usual classy style that reminisced old Hollywood that it caught everyone’s attention.
But I didn’t pay them any mind.
There was only one person I wanted to see me that night.
Michael Jackson: my boyfriend.
After years of denying our relationship being more than just friendship, years of quiet yearning, lingering touches, and careful hesitance, the restraint finally broke. We finally gave in.
And yet, there was still a part of both of us that struggled adjusting to no longer holding back.
Tonight I wanted to let go and take what I wanted. And I wanted his attention. Bad.
I greeted a few people and offered congratulations where it was due.
Until finally, I saw him.
Across the event hall, in the middle of a conversation with Quincy Jones, Michael was laughing lightly at something that had been said. I couldn’t help but smile just from seeing him.
This event was a celebration for a mutual friend of ours in the music industry, but shooting my latest film project meant I would be arriving later. Michael had insisted on us being late together, but I persuaded him to go ahead without me to be respectful. Besides, it allowed me to make an entrance just for him.
As if sensing my presence, his eyes instantly found mine and his smile melted into something softer.
Then he paused, taking in my appearance, and tightened his jaw.
Quincy visibly made a teasing comment towards him, but Michael brushed him off, collecting himself before making his way towards me.
“Finally,” he said with a grin, gaze trained against mine. “I was beginning to miss you.”
I would’ve almost felt let down by his lack of reaction, but I knew him well: always a gentleman, respectful, and just so innocent.
And so I chuckled and asked satirically: “only just?”
“Would it make me sound too desperate if I said no?” Michael jested. He fashioned a black suit and a bedazzled dress shirt. Simple for him but devastating nevertheless.
I let out a breath of amusement, making a show of setting myself to sit on the tall empty stage floor behind me and crossing one leg over the other, letting my dress ride up ever so slightly. But enough for him to notice.
“Perhaps, but I like it when you’re desperate for me.”
His brows shot up in surprise and challenge, leaning forward and resting his hand just next to my thighs. “Feeling bold today?”
So close I could feel the heat radiating off him.
I smiled and glanced down to his hand. Michael didn’t dare let his eyes shift from mine. That only made the eye contact more intense.
I tilted my head and leant down closer. “Wanna find out?”
That seemed to fully catch him off guard, as his eyes widened and he retreated, looking away from me. Then, he moved his hand to loosen his tie and cleared his throat.
“I’ll get you a drink. Orange juice? No, of course you want orange juice - we always get it. I… um- I’ll go get that now.” He excused, clearly flustered.
It made me laugh quietly and shake my head in humour, but I was still somewhat dissatisfied by his restraint. Not by inaction, but his lacking confidence in just taking what he wanted.
Before I could get too lost in my thoughts, someone appeared next to me.
“Need a hand to get down?” Cary Elwes’ voice broke through the silence.
I turned towards him, offering his hand to me, and smiled.
“How did you even get up there anyway?” He jested dramatically.
“Actually, I’m quite enjoying myself here.” I said, politely declining him.
“Really? I guess I’ll join you then.” He shrugged and propped himself beside me on the stage, with false-emphasised struggling, being the joker that he was.
I uncrossed my legs and moved my dress to cover more, not out of discomfort - I’d know Cary for a while from films we starred in together - but out of modesty.
He cracked a few jokes and I laughed, all the while watching the chandelier lit room filled with R&B music and chattering from food and drink counters. In the middle of it all, the host - Jackson Wang - spraying champagne over himself and Kalista, who was thoroughly enjoying herself.
The setting was too formal to be called a party, but too close of friends were in attendance to call it anything otherwise.
Shortly after, Michael returned.
“Elwes.” He acknowledged, setting our orange juice in fancy glasses next to me.
“Mr. Jackson,” Cary looked at the drinks and grinned. “Trust Y/n to choose orange juice over champagne at an event.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I defended, taking a sip of my favourite drink before setting it down again.
He raised his brows and gave a pointed look towards the drinks just beside my leg - eyes lingering a beat too long. “You’re an incredible lightweight.”
I rolled my eyes playfully.
Michael didn’t engage in the conversation, instead, he wordlessly took off his jacket and covered my thighs with it; comforting warmth blanketing me immediately. “I don’t want you to be cold.” He said, but I knew the real reason.
I smiled genuinely and brushed a loose curl away from his face tenderly. “Thank you, my love.”
He mirrored my expression, with so much affection behind his Bambi eyes that I could’ve melted on the spot.
I gestured for his hand, since the stage made me too high up to reach, and tangled it with mine on my lap.
Then Michael turned Cary, who had been watching us like live television - much like many others had been. “And orange juice is far superior to champagne, no matter the occasion.”
I nodded vehemently in agreement.
Cary held his hands up in defence, humour evident on his face. “I’m just saying, Y/n cannot take alcohol well.”
Michael paused, clearly disliking his insinuation of knowing me so well, and his gaze drifted to mine.
“She can take it just fine,” he said with a smug smile. “If I’m there to look after her.”
I looked down from him to my hands, playing with his fingers, a little flushed.
With that, Cary laughed and hopped off the stage, before clapping Michael’s shoulder. “You’ve got a great girl. You’re a lucky man.” There was more earnest behind his words than usual.
Michael tilted his head, questioning his intentions with a cold, narrowed stare and furrowed brows.
“Are we forgetting I’m right here?” I cut in with an accusatory smile.
Cary chuckled and waved to both of us to mingle with others around the room.
As he left, Michael faced me completely and rested both his arms over my legs, already concealed by his suit jacket.
I breathed out in amusement and said endearingly: “you already told me, angleface.”
He smiled contentedly, head dropping slightly, as my fingers combed through his curls absentmindedly. But I caught the way his mood had shifted.
“You alright?” I asked. Careful to maintain a respectful position in public, but still comforting.
“The way he looks at you,” he admitted, muffled by his jacket. “I don’t like it.”
I thought for a moment before tilting his chin up to look at me. “Let’s go for a walk in the gardens.” I suggested abruptly and kissed his nose briefly.
He seemed slightly confused but nodded anyways and offered his hand to help me down, which I gladly accepted.
His hands were soft under mine and didn’t let go even after I was standing again.
I returned his suit jacket, displaying my dress for him again: shorter than he realised. That caused him to deeply inhale, as if needing to calm his nerves.
The cool night air hit instantly as we stepped outside, with the refreshing scent of lavender twining with the rain that had just stopped. The gardens were secluded: just out of sight from the bustling event.
I looked at Michael, his features illuminated by yellow hues from lanterns that hung above.
So angelic. Like the stars in the night sky.
But I didn’t take us away from prying eyes just to appreciate his beauty under the moonlight.
“So, how does he look at me?” I mused, as he laid his eyes on me. The eye contact heavy again.
“Baby, you know how you have an effect on people,” Michael said in equal parts adoration and envy. As if he feared being just another admirer. “And that dress…”
“He’s not the one I wanted to have an impact on.”
“Michael, I wore this for you.” I said like it was obvious.
The atmosphere shifted instantly, as his jealousy replaced with realisation.
Michael’s eyes trailed down my body for the first time that evening, then looked away. He dragged a hand down his face and exhaled; mixed with both relief and pent up frustration.
“I’ve been trying to be respectful all evening,” he whispered, hands coming to my shoulders - sparkling heat spreading- like he just needed to touch me. “A gentleman.”
So delicate. Reverent. As if I were a relic to be cherished and protected.
“Just to find out that you…” he finally allowed his eyes to linger exactly where he’d been resisting all night.
The rare curse slipped from his lips in a breathy sound of being close to giving in - his restraint cracking almost completely. And whatever was left of it was precarious.
His head moved to rest against my shoulder, coming undone. Wanting to be nearer: craving it. Like it was just so tantalising.
I felt his loose curls brush over exposed skin of my collarbones. His signature scent of opulent, smoky vanilla filled the air; so intoxicating my mind clouded. Everything was just him.
“Michael?” I called out. A plea, equal parts for mercy and so much more.
That did it for him: the remaining vestige of control he’d been clinging onto finally snapping.
“Let me take you home,” he lifted his head, meeting my eyes. I saw the rare emotion swirling underneath his honey brown eyes so clearly. The usual innocence gone; in its place sheer desire. No more holding back. “And I’ll show you exactly how much you impact me~”
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