𝑜ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙 ꫂ᭪݁ ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ᴊ. ⸝⸝
𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗋𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝗌. ⌗
『𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗋𝖺』 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈 ── .✦ 𝗐.𝖼. 1800+
The dressing room at smelled like hairspray, expensive cologne, and the faint heat of stage lights bleeding through the walls. Outside, the crowd screamed loud enough to shake the mirrors, but inside, everything felt strangely quiet.
You sat cross-legged on the velvet couch, watching him pace the room in glittering black slacks and a half-unbuttoned silk shirt. His curls were still damp from the shower he’d rushed through after rehearsal, little droplets catching at the slope of his neck. Every few seconds, he glanced into the mirror—and every single time, his expression dimmed.
You noticed it immediately.
“You’re doing it again,” you said softly.
He stopped pacing. “Doing what?”
“That thing where you stare at yourself like you’ve done something wrong.”
Michael looked away almost instantly. “I’m not.”
He gave you a small shrug, pretending to fuss with the cuffs of his shirt. “I just…” His voice trailed off. “I dunno.”
You stood and crossed the room slowly, careful with him the way one handled fragile glass. Fame had made people think he was untouchable, but you knew better. You knew the nervous habits hidden beneath the sequins and applause. The way he tugged his sleeves down when he got insecure. The way compliments made him blush so hard his ears turned pink.
Most of all, you knew he hated mirrors.
You reached him gently. “Talk to me.”
Michael sighed quietly, eyes fixed on the floor. “Joe used to say my nose was too big.” He laughed once, bitter and embarrassed. “Said my skin was bad. Said I looked weird.”
Even now, years later, those words still lived inside him.
“And people always compare me to my brothers,” he continued, voice smaller now. “Jackie’s the handsome one. Jermaine’s smooth. Tito’s cool.” He swallowed hard. “I just look… awkward.”
You stared at him for a long moment before lifting your hands to cup his face.
The second you did, his breath caught.
Reluctantly, his eyes met yours. Dark brown. Soft. Nervous.
“You are the prettiest man I’ve ever seen,” you whispered.
Michael immediately ducked his head with a shy laugh. “Stop.”
“No.” You smiled. “I’m serious.”
His cheeks pinked instantly.
You brushed your thumbs beneath his eyes. “Those big eyes? Pretty. Those curls? Pretty. That smile?” You leaned closer. “Deadly.”
He groaned softly, embarrassed. “You always say stuff like that.”
“Because it’s true, angel face.”
The nickname hit him like it always did.
Michael physically froze.
Then the blush spread all the way down his neck.
“Oh my God,” he muttered, covering his face with one hand while laughing nervously. “Don’t call me that.”
His shoulders shook with bashful laughter, and finally—finally—the tension eased from his body.
You slipped your fingers through his, pulling his hand away from his face. “There you are.”
He looked at you carefully. Vulnerably.
“You really think I’m pretty?”
You leaned up and kissed him before answering.
Michael melted the second your lips touched his. He always did. One hand instinctively slid around your waist while the other trembled lightly against your cheek.
Until his shy little sighs filled the room.
When you pulled back, he looked dazed already.
“See?” you murmured against his mouth. “Pretty boys get kissed like this.”
Michael laughed breathlessly. “You’re crazy.”
That earned you another blush.
He turned his head slightly, trying to hide it, but you caught his chin and kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his jaw. Then beneath his ear.
Michael sucked in a sharp breath.
You felt his fingers tighten at your waist.
“Baby…” he whispered weakly.
“You can’t do that before I go onstage.”
“Because—” He broke off with a flustered sound as you kissed his neck again. “Because I’ll mess up.”
You grinned against his skin. “Michael Jackson? Mess up? Impossible.”
He buried his face in your shoulder with a groan. “Angel face was already bad enough. Now you’re teasing me.”
“You’re cute when you blush.”
He whined quietly, which only made you laugh harder.
Then suddenly he pulled back just enough to look at you properly.
And the softness in his eyes nearly destroyed you.
“No one’s ever talked to me like you do,” he admitted.
The playfulness faded from your expression.
You stroked his cheek gently. “They should’ve.”
Michael stared at you like he didn’t know what to do with kindness.
Then he kissed you first this time.
His mouth moved against yours with a desperation that made your knees weak instantly. Like he was trying to absorb every sweet thing you’d ever said to him before the world could take it away.
You kissed him back just as fiercely.
His hands slid to your hips, pulling you flush against him, and you felt the shiver that ran through his body when you sighed into his mouth.
“God,” he whispered between kisses. “You make me feel crazy.”
You laughed softly before kissing him again, slower this time. Michael hummed happily against your lips, completely gone now, completely soft for you.
You loved this version of him.
Shy, affectionate Michael who blushed every time you called him pretty.
Your fingers drifted through his curls, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he practically melted against you.
“There’s my angel face,” you teased quietly.
His face turned crimson again.
You giggled while he hid against your neck. “You’re so easy.”
You laughed loud enough that he started laughing too.
Then there was a knock at the dressing room door.
You took his hands again. “You know what I see when you walk onstage?”
“A man so beautiful people can’t look away.”
Then blinked rapidly like he might actually get emotional.
“You’re really trying to ruin my makeup now,” he muttered.
You softened immediately, brushing your nose against his. “You deserve to hear nice things.”
His gaze dropped to your lips.
Before you could answer, he kissed you again.
The kind of kiss that felt less like lust and more like devotion.
Still, the heat between you sparked instantly.
Michael’s hands slid lower along your back, pulling you against him with a soft sound in his throat. You felt him smile slightly when you kissed him harder in return.
“That’s dangerous,” he whispered.
“You looked too pretty sitting over there.” He paused. “Couldn’t help myself.”
Now it was your turn to blush.
Michael grinned triumphantly. “See? I can do it too.”
He leaned in again, kissing you slower this time, savoring it. His lips were unbelievably soft, every movement affectionate and careful until you deepened the kiss and felt him lose composure immediately.
A shaky breath escaped him.
Your fingers slipped beneath the open collar of his shirt, tracing the warm skin of his chest, and Michael nearly melted on the spot.
“You keep touching me like that and I’m never going onstage.”
He laughed quietly before kissing you again, more desperate now. You could feel years of insecurity in the way he held you—as though he still couldn’t believe someone wanted him this much.
You kissed every inch of his face until he was blushing so hard he couldn’t even look at you properly anymore.
“Stop hiding from me,” you murmured between kisses.
“I’m trying,” he laughed weakly.
He shook his head, smiling helplessly now. “You really got me wrapped around your finger.”
The honesty in his voice made your chest ache.
Michael rested his forehead against yours, breathing softly.
“You know,” he said quietly, “when I was little, I used to pray I’d wake up looking different.”
He looked at you carefully.
“When you look at me…” He swallowed. “I don’t hate myself as much.”
Emotion tightened your throat instantly.
You kissed him softly, pouring everything you couldn’t say into it.
When you pulled away, you whispered, “You shouldn’t hate yourself at all.”
You touched his cheek. “Good.”
Another knock interrupted you both.
He groaned dramatically into your shoulder. “I don’t wanna go.”
“You’re a global superstar. You have responsibilities.”
“But I wanna stay here kissing you.”
Your grin widened. “You’re needy tonight.”
He stole one more kiss before reluctantly pulling away. Still, he kept holding your hand like he physically couldn’t stop touching you.
At the door, he hesitated.
Then turned back suddenly.
Michael walked straight toward you again, grabbed your waist, and kissed you hard enough to leave you breathless.
When he finally pulled away, his cheeks were pink again.
“There,” he said proudly.
You blinked. “What was that for?”
“So I can think about you onstage.”
“Michael Jackson,” you whispered dramatically. “Are you flirting with me?”
He laughed shyly. “Maybe a little.”
Then he started toward the door again before pausing one last time.
“Call me angel face again after the show?”
Your entire expression melted.
That blush returned instantly.
Michael ducked his head with a laugh before finally disappearing out the door toward the screaming crowd waiting for him.
And just before it closed completely, you heard him mumble under his breath—
“Angel face… Lord have mercy.”
a/n : changing my whole aesthetic that i had so yea !! i can’t believe this man was every even insecure bc he is like the most majestic person evaaa
origamiaround
2087
prguitarman
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