‧₊ ♪˚⊹𝒯𝒽ℯ 𝒥ℯ𝒶𝓁ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝒯𝓎𝓅ℯ ‧₊ ♪˚⊹
DangerousEra!Michael x FemActress!Reader
★ 𝒞ℴ𝓃𝓉ℯ𝓃𝓉/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃ℊ𝓈 ~ Reader and Michael are married with a child, Reader cursing, readers thoughts are in italics, angst, kinda mean Michael, mention of children fluff, slight smut (just a little i promise). Happy ending because life is already hard.
★ 𝒲ℴ𝓇𝒹 𝒞ℴ𝓊𝓃𝓉 ~ 2.3k
⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔ ⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔ ⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔ ⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔
Michael was always the jealous type… you knew this of course; always noticing how his grip on you would tighten when you spoke to your male coworkers, or how he would glare when one’s male gaze lingered upon you for longer than he liked, but that’s just how he was.
There was no harm, no foul. He would never curse or act out (not really). He was respectful; he was able to mark his own without causing a fuss, but most importantly, he never took his jealousy out on you… Or so you thought.
That was your previous notion until he came to meet you in bed after a long night of movie premieres and after-parties. You were waiting for him beneath the light blanket spread across your shared mattress, body clad in a simple night gown that fell to your middle thigh. Michael lingered in the bathroom for a while longer, the shower water still pattering behind the closed door. Not much thought came into your mind about his prolonged cleansing; he was a meticulous man, you knew this, oftentimes cleaning every nook and cranny he could find, and after, tending to things like his hair, moisturization, etcetera.
Your eyes grew heavy with your wait, but he soon appeared through the now opened door, steam cascading low on the floor behind him. He wore only his boxers, slightly damp from the water droplets still lingering and gliding down his skin. A lazy smile grew on your face, your arm peeling back the blanket to make space for him. As if he hadn’t seen your gesture, he didn’t say a word, and kept a monotone face while his feet carried him to the dresser, where a pair of pajama pants and a plain t-shirt were collected. He quickly slid into them in silence before sliding into bed, back faced square in your direction.
One of your brows raised in slight confusion, obviously thrown off by the gesture. This was not like him, of course. The night was intimate for him, where all his worries dissipated: not having to stress about tour, stepping on the toys his child often left on the floor after play time, greeting hundreds of people while on 3 hours of sleep, and all other daily nuisances. It was a ritual. He got to decompress, all while spending some much needed skin to skin time with his lady. He couldn’t stay away from you, ensuring that you were in his arms or he was in yours, but tonight was different.
“Someone wants to be little spoon tonight, hm?” Your voice gently pries as you scoot closer to him, hooking your arms between his and under his pits before letting your head rest against his back.
Immediately, you’re shrugged off by Michael, who scoots further away towards his end of the bed. You sit stunned, arms lingering in the position as if he was still in them. “Is he playing with me right now?” your voice rings in your mind, trying to formulate what could possibly be happening right now. “He must be..” you think before closing the space once more, clinging to him again. “Haha, very funny Michael.”
He maneuvers you off of him once more with a huff, bridging a distance between you two.
“What the fuck?”
Silence sat in the room with you both, neither of you speaking; you because of shock, him because he was ignoring you. Was he upset with you? “No he couldn’t possibly be.. I mean he was fine on the ride home…” You begin to run through the possibilities that could explain this. “I mean.. he was kind of quiet, but it had to be because he’s just tired… yeah, that must be it..”
That was your conclusion. “You really tired baby?” The coo from your voice is hesitant as you inch closer to him, testing the waters before tentatively rubbing his shoulder.
“Could you just leave me alone and go to bed?” He snaps in a whisper, jerking his shoulder away from your touch.
Oh he’s lost his fucking mind.
“Hey!” You lean over him and grip his chin between your index and thumb, angling his face towards you. He resists, but you carefully strengthen your hold “Hey look at me..” His eyes meet yours and they’re puffy and red, an obvious tell that he’d been crying. “What is your problem, hm?”
Annoyance was laced in your tone, the feeling lingering in the air as well while you awaited his response.
“s’nothin I’m fine…” He attempts to wiggle out of your grasp but you make it more firm, holding him in place. “Let go ‘f me, I just want to go to bed.”
You instantly negate, head shaking as your eyes narrow in on his features. “No, not until you tell me what your problem is.” You hate to pry, but you hate this cold act towards you even more…
“You!” He exhales in defeat, eyes locked on yours, “you are my problem!” The tone itself isn’t harsh, but his words are, and they cause you to loosen your grip on his chin, letting it linger at the fingertips.
“What?” your voice is small as you slowly pull away, face contorted in a look of hurt. “I’m your problem?”
Guilt strikes his face, but he stands firm, nodding slowly with wide eyes and raised brows, his lips pursed in a straight line. “Yes, you.” He turns his body away from you dramatically, pulling the blanket higher on his body.
The silence is deafening, but the ringing in your ears is hard to ignore. Tears begin to build in your eyes, growing heavier and threatening to spill as you sit in shock, mouth slightly agape.
“No. fuck that..”
Instantly you’re ripping the covers off of Michael, harshly turning him onto his back and climbing on top of him before he can register, his eyes blown wide from the sudden action. Your chest lays plush against his, caging him in so he couldn’t escape, or would have to try damn hard to.
“What do you mean, I’m your problem, Michael huh?” Your eyes narrow. “Because this is the first l’m hearing of this.”
“Yeah because I’m upset!” His voice raises, eyes blown wide with hurt and anger.
“About what?!” Your volume matches his now, but is restrained to not to wake the sleeping child down the hall. “What did I do to you?”
A huff escapes his throat before he answers. “I had to watch you all over him, ALL night.” He confesses, hands thrown up beneath you as much as he could.
“Who?!”
“That guy you’re in the movie with!” He shouts. “The one who plays your love interest! Who I had to watch make out and have sex with my wife on a giant theater screen!”
You stare at him for a beat, genuinely not believing your ears before erupting into laughter. His eyes are blown wide at your response, a pained confusion forming on his face.
“Charlie?” The name is surrounded by your boisterous humor as your breath catches, trying to reel you back in. “You’re worried about Charlie, Michael?” Deep breaths run through your lungs as you calm yourself down, pressing your palm to his chest to balance yourself.
“Oh what you think that’s funny…” Seriousness is the only thing found in his tone. His voice is small, and his eyes threaten to pang with tears, just as yours had. “I had to watch you hug him, talk with him, and barely interact with me all night, the guy who got to feel your lips on his, and see you in a way only I should, and you’re laughing in my face.”
The expression of humor on your face falls. “Mikey c’mon it’s work… It’s acting, it's not real, you can’t be serious right now.”
“I am dead serious.” His gaze falls away from you and he turns his head.
“What, so I’m just not supposed to interact with my coworkers? Not do the scenes written FOR me, not by me remember that.” You ramble, continuing the speech before he can even conjure a response. “Oh, am I supposed to tell my directors, ‘yeah no thanks! I’d actually rather my character not have the romantic interest you wrote in for me, because my husband will lose his mind if he sees me acting romantically with someone that isn’t him’ like what do you want from me, Michael?!”
Silence. His eyes still aren’t meeting yours. “Are you kidding me right now? Look at me.” You grab his face again with a firm gentleness, putting you straight in his eyesight. “I don’t get it, Michael. When you work with all these beautiful women, Iman, Naomi, whoever, I never complain. Even when you could have gotten me, your wife, the actor to play those roles, I have never treated you this way. Ever.” The emphasis on the last word hangs in the air before you continue. “But when it is my job, because those music videos are not your job, Michael, you're a musician, I catch flack for it and you question my loyalty to you!”
“It’s not the same with those girls, there's nothing there!”
“How is it different, Michael?! Honestly, how is my on screen romance and your onscreen romance any different?”
“Because! It’s not.. I barely see them outside of the set! I see you around Charlie all the time!” What an empty excuse, and he knows it, so he redirects. “But I’m not questioning your loyalty to me! Not really..” His tone is defensive, trying to back pedal because he realizes he’s messed up.
“You are!” You rebut. “You’re questioning my fidelity to you and I don’t know why. I don’t know what you want from me.” Exasperation lies between the both of you, eyes lingering on each other as you both await words.
“I just..” Michael breathes in deep. “I just want you to be mine… I want you to myself. I don't want anyone to have you like I have you.” The confession is fragile as a tear spills from his eye. You cock your head to the side, all expressions of anger falling, leaving only sympathy.
“Michael what are you even-“ but you cut yourself off, slightly adjusting so you could bring your hand up to his eye view. “Look here, hey.” You command, and his eyes drag over to your hand, where your thumb is perched up on your ring finger to put the sparkling diamond attached to the intricately detailed silver band.
“Whose ring is this, Michael?” you ask, a brow raised for emphasis.
He takes a deep breath before answering. “Mine.”
“Yours.” You add for further clarity. “And whose child is that sleeping down the hall?” You point towards the door.
“Ours…” his voice shrinks out of embarrassment.
“Yes, ours.” You bring your own voice down to, letting a softer expression form on your face. “And whose,” you pause for a moment, taking Michael’s hand before lifting yourself up slightly, making leeway for his fingers to graze your hot core before continuing, “is this, hm?”
You rub his fingers against your sensitive button and across your folds, making his breath hitch as you sigh softly, letting the slick that's pooling instantly at his touch coat your outer edges.
“It’s m-mine.” His breath is a pathetic whisper, his eyes desperate and soft as they dart between your core and your face.
“And who gets it like this, Michael?” Your lips graze his ear with those words, and his eyes squeeze shut.
“I do, I do, mama.”
“That’s right.. and who do I love so much, that I was more than willing to sit in a hospital bed, in pain, for hours to push his child out of it, hm?”
He takes another deep sigh of guilt before answering. “Me..”
“Exactly… I have done nothing but prove that I am yours, Michael..” You place a gentle kiss to his jaw before removing yourself from on top of him. Your body lays its side, and Michael follows suit, locking his eyes on yours.
“I’m sorry…” The whisper that leaves his lips is followed by another tear as he pouts, gently grabbing your hand and rubbing it. “You have done nothing but love me, and I still got in my head.”
Now you’re taking a deep breath, trying to fight your own tears. “Yeah, Mikey… you got in your head and you got mean.” Tears flow anyway despite your efforts. “I don’t like it when you’re mad at me…”
“I know, angel, I’m so sorry..” His arms pull you into his chest and he litters kisses to the crown of your head.” I just don’t like it when… when it looks like someone is having you like I do.” Your arms hook around him as his hands soothingly caress you. “It’s not an excuse, ‘n I’m sorry. I'm gonna do better, baby I promise.”
More kisses meet you wherever he can reach while his thumb wipes away your tears. “Don’t cry sweet girl, I’m sorry.” His voice is a velvety whisper. “What can I do to make it up to you, hm?”
A sniffle rings through the air before you look up at him. “Can I still be big spoon?” You ask softly, and he smiles, nodding.
“Course you can baby, c'mon.” His body turns around and you immediately hook onto him like you did earlier, and he doesn't push you away. Instead his arm over lap yours, bringing one hand to place a kiss to yours before holding you tight.
“I love you, Mikey.” A kiss lingers against his back before you rest your cheek there, letting your eyes flutter until they completely close. “M all yours, okay? Always and forever.”
“I love you too… always and forever”
⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔ ⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔ ⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔ ⊹ ࣪ ˖꒰ঌ ໒꒱.⋆˚࿔
A/N ~ Hi babies! This one was fun to write, it came to me in a daydream 😛. Lmk your thoughts and as always, my requests are open, so feel free to leave any that you may wanna see! ~
