i read your newest manager!Michael and it was soooo great, was listening to into you by ariana grande the entire time and it like, really made it come together !! I neeeeeeed them to finally give into e/o like hop on that old man #now !!!! please please continue the series like its so good I'm starved.
I was lowk also thinking of another seperate part where she writes/produces a song that's suggestive & about him????? but he figures that out only a couple listens later after it releases everywhere and hits the charts. idkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk lol, anyways, thank youuuuu!
fuck up the friendship-part i
ꫂ❁ writes: pink anon, ilysm, you have the biggest brain! i was actually thinking about this very idea the other night. it took a while to think of the specific song that would inspire me to write something like this and you popped up in my inbox. blessings.
split into two parts because it's mad long, but part two has smutty themes, right onnn
wc: 2.2k
tw: sexual tension, getting in trouble with mike, he's acting like dada here (very strict!), legal troubles
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟
“so how’s your newest project coming along?” michael looked up from his papers, blinking at one of your newer producers sitting across from him. something burned bright in his eyes, like knowing about a secret he hadn't caught onto yet.
“hmm?”
his heart pattered a little faster at the mention of your name when the other man answered back. michael shook his head. “don't call her that, a ‘project’. she’s a person.”
the producer raised his hands defensively. “i meant no disrespect, mike.”
michael held his gaze a little longer before settling back down to his papers. his reading glasses slipped down his nose a bit, and he put up a finger to readjust. “she’s doing great, if that's what you want to know.”
a shuffle in the chair. “so…what do you think of her newest song?”
michael furrowed his brows, glancing back up at the producer, who was more still now. “what song?”
the producer cleared his throat a little. “you know…her standalone single? aside from the album release?”
michael slowly lowered the pen in his hand and leaned back, swiping the glasses off his face. yes, he dealt with various negotiations within the company and record label, so you could focus on your music, especially with an upcoming tour within the next year. he agreed with you that you would release your rebrand album, along with an ep, if the album proved its commercial success.
as for standalone singles…it was kind of understood that you would freely compose songs to add to the deluxe album later on, but you would need to run it by him first.
he knew how sneaky the label would be with the profits and legality of it all. which is why your producer asking him these questions made him suspicious.
“you have something to tell me?” he asked the producer in a low tone. he rubbed the arm of the glasses along his chin as he studied the other man, who was now shifting uncomfortably in his seat. michael opened his hand expectantly. “i'll find out either way.”
the producer sighed with a heavy exhale from his chest and raised his hands, eyes never meeting michael’s. “look, man, i shouldn’t even be saying this. she wanted to tell you herself. in her own way.”
michael raised a brow. the producer continued, “she’ll be tight if i said something, man. i can't break that with her. she won't work with me again.”
tongue swiping across his lips, michael tossed his glasses onto the table and reached for his desk phone, making the producer jerk in surprise. the sweating man watched as michael silently punched a few numbers into the dial pad, then raised the receiver to his ear, slipping behind his glossy mane.
his eyes widened when he heard michael say, “it’s michael. yeah…can you connect me? thank you. yeah, sure, i can wait. go ‘head.”
he waved his hands desperately. “mike, wait–” but was stopped when he heard your voice on the end, choking on his plea. he sank back in defeat.
michael leaned back into his plush office chair. “hey, fox. how are you?”
“hi, mickey,” your voice sounded back to him chirpily (he loved when you called him ‘mickey’, especially after you joked that his short laughs sounded like the cartoon mouse). you sounded breathless. “what’s up?”
“oh, nothing,” he rocks back into his chair, swiveling a little. “just wanted to know what you were up to.”
“rehearsals, like you scheduled.” you sounded confused. “is something wrong?”
michael hummed, reaching for a piece of gum in his side drawer. “i would say. you’re about to get me into major legal trouble, and i just needed to know what’s the reason that you’re going behind my back to make standalone singles.”
silence on the other end, though he heard a few people talking in the background of the phone. your backup dancers, presumably. michael finally eyed your producer, who had squeezed his hands together so tightly, his knuckles had whitened. the only sound audible to anyone was michael chewing his gum into mush as he waited. he finally heard you take a deep breath, humming a little exhale out.
the gall of you to be annoyed.
“i thought we agreed that it would be okay for me to write something of my own outside the album.” you sounded a little more stiff now. “don't tell me you're going to micromanage me on that, now.”
michael snapped his gum obnoxiously. “not to alert you or anything, but i am your manager. you’d do well to remember that when we’re being sued for dishonoring the contract with your record label.”
“i didn't do anything illegal!” you nearly shouted into the receiver.
“did you or did you not write a standalone single with your producer without running it by me first?” he asked you calmly.
he could practically hear your eyes roll over the phone, even though he couldn't see you. “yes.”
“good, that's all i needed to know.” his tongue pushes the gum between his teeth, blowing another bubble. it popped loudly, snapping the producer out of his disassociated gaze. “now, listen very carefully if you want to keep your career. you hear me, fox?”
“yes, michael.” back to real names.
“you’re gonna come to my office right now, bring all your notes and recordings, and you’re gonna run every project you have with me. we’ll go from there. got it?”
“yes, michael.”
“see you soon then,” he says as he sits up and plops the receiver onto the machine. he picks up his glasses from the desk and snaps them open, slowly sliding them onto his face again. he clears his throat once and flips through the forgotten papers.
the awkward producer stares at michael. “uh–”
“you won’t get off as easily as her because you know better and she doesn't,” michael suddenly starts. he doesn't bother looking up. “you took advantage of a naive girl for your own gain. this is your first and last warning. don't let it happen again.”
“yeah, yeah, i gotchu, man.” the producer bobbed his head up and down, relieved to still have a job.
michael’s eyes finally looked up. “mr. jackson.”
“s-sorry, mr. jackson,” the man stuttered apologetically, but michael waved him away dismissively.
“just send me the records y’all made.”
you showed up at his office an hour later than he expected. with winter rapidly approaching, it didn't help that rehearsals required as little clothing as possible, with nothing but a huge puffer coat to cover you from the cold. he eyed you sitting across from his desk, your body language crossed and cold.
“why you gotta show all that attitude for?” he asked with laced fingers. you shrugged.
he leans forward a little. “you realize you're not in trouble with me, right?”
you glance up at him, a little hopeful. he raises a finger. “yet.”
you suck your teeth, but a ghost of a smile settles on your lips. he narrows his eyes at you.
“something you wanna share, fox?” he prods. your smile finally broke through, and you relaxed a little.
“look, michael, what do i need to show you?” your eyes darted around his face, studying you. you were clearly itching to get out of there.
he takes in a long breath through his nose, settling back into his chair. “whaddya got for me?”
you glance into your handbag, eyes skirting between him and your purse. he raises his eyebrows expectantly at you, waiting. you reach into the bag with sluggish movements, playing into the pouty child act. he lifts an outstretched palm, bending his fingers twice. “come on, fox.”
you hesitantly bit your lip before pulling out a single notebook. he recognized it as your lyric journal, where he often encouraged you to write your thoughts, manifestations, lyrics, or any letters. to yourself, to him, to anyone.
you stood slowly, shrugging your arm coat off your shoulder in the process. he briefly let his eyes settle on your exposed shoulder before leaning forward to collect your notebook. your hand came up to lift the journal to his eye level, and he noticed a few red sticky notes near the back of the cover. he spotted an inked-out heart near the corner of one of them, and his curiosity spiked.
his hand grasped the edge of the spiral but felt your resistance in releasing it to him.
he glanced up at you. your face held a silent plea.
he sat back into his chair, hands following him into his lap. you blinked at him, and he motioned with his head for you to sit down. as you settled into your chair again, he tapped the edge of his glasses, frame glinting against the low lamp light.
“a secret song?” he finally asks. you smiled at him, embarrassed.
“yeah.” your demeanor suddenly became shy, uncharacteristic of you. he noted you looked much more innocent, unsure. he chewed his lower lip. he decided to ask you small questions, hoping to elicit more than one word answers.
“is it naughty?” your eyes widened at the accusation, but he had to ask. he lifts his hands, prompting your answer.
“i mean, not really.” michael arches a sharp brow at this, and your eyes shift to the side. “well, it’s only got one curse word in it.”
he waits for your answer with a small smile, looking predatory. you laugh a little, still unsure. you cover a hand over your mouth, tapping your fingers against your lips as you mused. he stared at your movements and realized it had been a very long time since he touched you there.
or at all.
you turn back to him, and his gaze snaps up to your eyes. “what’s my favorite curse word?”
michael’s lips stretch into a crooked grin. “fuck?”
“fuck,” you confirm with a laugh. he chuckles a little, shaking his head.
“so naughty, fox.”
you sit up better in your seat, getting more comfortable. “well, not in the raunchy way, like to fuck. more like…to mess up.”
“ah.” much better.
your nails picked at the corner of your puffer coat. “so, we good?”
michael smiles at you with knowing eyes. he slips the glasses off his face so you can see him better. he rubs his chin before he says, “look, i'm not gonna ask you to unlock the safe before you’re ready. it's clear you want this song to be a surprise, i’m guessing to profit off of shock value and speculation?”
you nod slowly, like there was finally an understanding coming between you. your smile beamed from your ears, but your eyes were set on him expectantly.
“i don't mind, i really don't.” he continued, holding your eyes. “but you gotta understand it's not about control. at least not with me. i'm just your manager, meaning i'm here to protect you from all the leeches out there willing to throw you under the bus to make half a buck. so i need you to stop fighting me on this and trust me.”
you chewed your lower lip. “i understand, michael. i'm sorry i didn't tell you about it sooner.”
“no more attitude.” he nods a little, ducking his head to stare deeper at you. “m’kay?”
“m’kay,” you confirmed with a small scrunch of your nose at him. he scrunched his nose back at you and relished in your half-contained giggle. you stood again, rounding his desk.
his chair pushed back as he made space for you, pulling your body close to his for a small embrace. you bent in half to meet him, your shirt dipping a little lower to give him a direct tunnel view of your bra. he had half a mind to ignore it, instead opting to inhale your scent from your neck, where you were lathered in perfume and dried sweat.
he tried not to shiver when you traced your nails in soothing circles along his upper back, whispering in his ear. “i hope you’ll like it.”
you pulled back suddenly, and he felt the gum in his mouth suddenly feel too dry and hard for his liking. he grabbed a tissue from the corner of his desk and ducked his head to spit into the napkin, missing the way your eyes light up at the sight.
“you have gum?” he hears you ask, and he points to the side drawer of his desk, before swiveling around to dump the rolled napkin in the bin. the drawer opens and shuts with a crinkle of wrapper sounding.
you flash him a sweet grin as you hand him the wrapper, and he tosses it behind him. you hold his stare down, gazing at him through your lashes as you work through chewing the mint gum. all he can do is look up at you from his chair and think how powerful you look in this moment. he hopes he's not making a mistake.
you reach out and tap his shoulder with a playful finger. he grabs your wrist gently, rubbing it for a minute before you walk away from him, slipping out of his grasp. he wants to ask you if you've eaten yet and if you want to grab a bite with him.
“when do you wanna release the single?” he finds himself asking instead, nearly cracking at the end.
you turn around at the doorway, eyes flashing dangerously. “turn on the radio, mickey.”
꧁⎝ 𓆩༺✧༻𓆪 ⎠꧂
ꫂ❁ thoughts from saff: part 2 is here!
i'm actually conflicted about making manager x popstar officially in a relationship, like putting a label on it. i feel like he would be secretive about it all, but hello i'm all for those forbidden fruit vibes. trust let me cook for the next part.
