case of disco fever ‧₊ ˙ ⋆ ✰
𑣲⋆ summary : all you wanted was a break from the madness of studio 54. you didn’t expect to find michael jackson hiding from it too, and most importantly expect one conversation to turn into the best night of your life.
⊹ ࣪ ˖ otw michael jackson x reader
a/n : sorry this got posted later than i said, i didn’t expect it to take me so long to write… also if anyone asks for part 2 i’ll throw a fit bc some people need to realise the beauty of one-shots is that there’s no part 2 and you make it up with your imagination and make up and interpret your own ending boiiii
stepping into studio 54 felt like another word—music thundering through the walls and floorboards, the steady pulse of disco vibrating through your chest like a second heartbeat. above the crowded dance floor, neon coloured lights swept across the room in waves, painting everyone beneath them in constantly shifting shades. the mirrored surfaces scattered reflections in every direction, making the club seem endless.
it was only around eleven, early by studio 54 standards, but the night was already alive—groups of people crowded around tables and the bar, laughing loudly over the music. others wildly filled the dance floor shoulder to shoulder, moving beneath the spinning lights without a care in the world of who was watching. sequins flashed every time someone turned, metallic jewellery catching in the light. clouds of expensive perfume and cologne mixed with cigarette smoke lingered in the warm, heated air.
the music carried you effortlessly through the crowd, your body moving instinctively to the infectious rhythm pouring from the speakers. one moment you were dancing with a woman in a glittering silver dress, both of you laughing as you spun beneath the lights. the next, a stranger was pointing excitedly toward the dj booth before pulling you into another song. faces gradually blurred together throughout the night following many brief conversations, shared smiles and familiar lyrics shouted in unison over the music.
it didn’t matter to you that you knew almost none of them, as right now everyone belonged to the same rhythm of the music. every bassline sent a wave of energy through the room. every song seeming longer and louder than the last. people clapped, danced, and sang along as if the night would never end—no one wanting it to.
it was practically humanly impossible not to get swept up in the contagious energy, not a soul standing still. you danced energetically beneath the kaleidoscope of lights, surrounded by strangers who felt like friends for three minute songs at a time, letting the music drown out every thought in your head as the club sparkled and pulsated around you like the centre of the universe itself.
before long as the night progressed, more and more people arrived in waves. as the hours slipped by, studio 54 only grew louder. people continued pouring through the doors in a steady stream, each new arrival bringing another burst of energy into the club. the spaces between bodies began to disappear, the lines at the bar stretched longer, laughter progressively becoming louder and less restrained.
drink after drink circulated through the room, the effects impossible to miss—conversations became slurred. movements became bolder, strangers who had barely acknowledged one another earlier in the evening now danced together like lifelong friends. some stumbled through the crowd with flushed cheeks and crooked smiles whilst others threw their heads back in laughter at jokes that likely weren’t as funny as they were making it out to be.
the atmosphere was intoxicating. though somehow, it was beginning to exhaust you.
you’d had a few drinks yourself throughout the evening, enough to feel pleasantly warm, relaxed and able to let go, but nowhere near enough to match the energy surrounding you now. everywhere you turned, someone seemed determined to pull you back into the chaos—a hand grabbing your wrist, another settling briefly on your shoulder. at some point a random guy wrapped an arm around you and spun you into the middle of a dancing circle before disappearing into the crowd again, leaving you dazed and confused.
earlier, you would’ve laughed and joined in with everyone. now it only made your stomach tighten. the dance floor felt increasingly different than it had an hour ago. everything feeling hotter, stuffier and almost claustrophobic.
people bumped into one another constantly. drinks sloshed onto expensive clothes. voices competed against the music until everything blended into one overwhelming wall of noise.
you quickly found yourself glancing toward the exits more than once, desperate for room to breathe. when another heavily intoxicated stranger stumbled into your space and attempted to pull you into a dance, you finally decided enough was enough. with a polite smile and a quick excuse that was immediately swallowed by the music, you slipped away from the crowd.
the further you moved from the centre of the dance floor, the easier it became to breathe. you navigated the familiar hallways and dimly lit corners before reaching a narrow staircase tucked away near the back of the club.
you knew this route well. after countless nights spent at studio 54 you’d discovered more than a few places to disappear to when the club became too much.
the metal staircase clanked softly beneath your heels as you climbed, the music growing slightly more distant with each step, though the bass still vibrated through the walls. directly at the top waited a heavy red velvet curtain, swiftly slipping behind it.
nearly instantaneously the noise softened to manageable degree. the secluded balcony stretched quietly above the club, hidden from most guests below. a simple iron railing separated you from the open view overlooking the dance floor.
you crossed the small space and lowered yourself onto the floor, resting your back against the wall behind you with a long exhale—the first one all night.
beneath you, the nightclub appeared almost unreal. from above, the crowd merged into a constantly shifting sea of colour and movement. hundreds of people swayed beneath the lights as if they were part of one living thing, rising and falling with every beat of the music. the mirrored disco ball suspended overhead scattered fragments of light across the room like falling stars, chromatic alternations of the lights sweeping across the dance floor, each colour transforming the crowd for only a moment before the next replaced it.
the music continued to echo upward, but now softened by distance, turning the thunderous bass into something almost comforting.
from the distance, the chaos looked beautiful—shared drunken laughter, joyous erratic dancing and its endless motion. all of it blended together into something strangely euphoric as though watching a dream unfold from afar.
you folded your arms on your knees and simply watched—silently people watching from the distance. it kept you relaxed knowing you didn’t need to be a part of it, just watching it was enough.
gradually as time passed you began to lose track of how long you’d been sat up there, just peacefully watching the drunkenly dancing figures converse and squeal.
deep down you did love it there at studio 54. sure, it did get overwhelming at time to have a parade of mindlessly under the influence people swarm you, giving you uncalled for touches and grinds, but it still felt nearly like home. you just needed a break at times when all grew a little too much.
you’re soon enough snapped out of your thoughts when you hear the rip echoing of the curtains beside you as they opened, a figure stepping out to the small balcony, almost tripping over you before letting out a startled gasp.
“oh gosh, i’m— i’m so sorry, i didn’t see you there,” a slightly alarmed voice speaks.
you snap you head in the direction of the open doorway, momentarily startled by the sudden interruption.
the figure standing before you froze beneath the coloured glow spilling up from the dance floor below, one hand still clutching the edge of the curtain. a second passed where neither of you said anything.
then the recognition hit, your eyes widening in almost disbelief as you took in his appearance—his slightly messy afro, his warm dark skin, the dazzling purple blazer he had, his deep brown eyes that gazed down at you on the floor with slight worry and concern.
not just somebody who happened to visit studio 54 and nearly kicked you in the leg.
you’d heard his songs countless times—i mean, who hadn’t in this day and age? they played on radios, blasted from car speakers, echoed from record stores. his name seemed to follow wherever music was discussed. even inside studio 54 itself people talked about him constantly whenever he made an appearance.
and somehow, despite seeing him around from a distance on multiple occasions, your paths had never actually crossed.
you hoped desperately that your shock wasn’t visible on your face. “oh, no, it’s okay,” you said quickly, letting out a nervous laugh. “i don’t blame you not seeing me down here—“
michael looked visibly relieved at your forgiveness, his shoulders slightly dropping. “still,” he replied, pressing a hand on top of his hair. “you scared me.”
the comment caught you off guard enough to laugh again, a grin immediately appearing on his face, seemingly pleased he’d managed to get one out of you.
“sorry,” he added, again. his voice was soften than you’d ever imagined. everyone knew of that softly charming voice he obtained, but it know sounded different hearing it in real life in the contrast of the chaos below you two.
you shook your head with a faint smile, waving off his apology. “no need.”
the conversation fell quiet for a moment, michael glancing awkwardly toward the curtain again, back to the empty hallway behind him, then back to you with a scratch of the back of his neck.
“well… i’ll leave you alone,” he faltered slightly, taking a small step backwards off the balcony.
something about the idea of him now leaving felt disappointing.
“it seems it’s big enough for both of us,” you offer, the words leaving your mouth before you could reconsider them.
michael paused slightly, looking at you with slightly skepticism of you wanting to share your private space you seemingly had now claimed. “you sure?”
you offer him a small nod in return. “i mean, unless you know another secret balcony.”
a light chuckle escaped him, his eyes squinting slightly with a crinkle. “no, this was my backup plan.”
“then you’re welcome to stay.”
michael appeared almost surprised by the invitation. most people either wanted something from him or became too nervous to speak normally around him. the fact that you were simply offering a place to sit seemed to catch him off guard before eventually he smiled. “okay then.”
carefully, he lowered himself onto the floor beside you. the balcony wasn’t particularly large—there was enough room for both of you to sit comfortably, though your knees occasionally brushed whenever one of you shifted position though neither of you seemed particularly bothered by it.
for a while, the two of you simply watched the club below, the crowd somehow having grown even larger. from above, the dance floor resembled a constantly moving mosaic of glittering clothes, colourful lights, and raised hands. waves of laughter drifted upward whenever the music briefly softened between songs. the enormous disco ball scattered fragments of silver light across the room, transforming hundreds of strangers into flickering silhouettes.
michael rested his arms across his knees, soon diverting his attention onto you. “so what brought you up here?”
you glanced toward the crowd, eyes flicking from person to person—all each in their own little world. “just… needed a break.”
his face immediately brightened, almost unnoticeably to most people, but it was
you giggle slightly in confusion at his question. “yeah?”
“thats— that’s exactly why i’m here,” michael somewhat stumbling in his words at the surprise of someone maybe understanding him.
you look over to him, your head lightly cocked to the side with a furrow of your eyebrows. “it is?..”
he nods momentarily, motioning with his head toward the dance floor below. “people think i can stay down there all night.”
michael immediately shook his head, pursing his lips together. “no.”
the speed of his response raises a quiet chortle from you. “no?”
“no,” he repeats, staring, almost zoned-out, towards the dance floor now packed with dozens and dozens of people, tightly together.
he grinned as he watched the shared sharp energetic twists sways of the mass. “i like people. i really do. most especially the ones here,” he begins, admiring the flowing patterns beneath him. “but sometimes…” he slowly continued, gesturing vaguely toward the crowd. “it’s a lot.”
you nodded in agreement, listening intently as he explained. “yeah, definitely a lot.”
the shared understanding settled naturally between you, something oddly comforting about it.
for the hour that followed, conversation flowed with surprising ease. what started as observations about the club gradually drifted into completely unrelated topics—favourite songs, terrible fashion trends, movies, specifically horror, stories about strange encounters with people at the club who definitely got involved with a specific powder, and embarrassing moments which left you both holding your stomach in silent laughter, holding onto each other to try catch a breath.
the more you talked, the easier it became to forget who exactly was sitting beside you. michael wasn’t acting like a celebrity, he wasn’t performing or to impress anybody.
he also wasn’t what you’d typically expect from such a well-known star—he was funny, far funnier than you’d expected. more than once you found yourself laughing hard enough that your stomach hurt. and he didn’t seem to be one to brag either, not trying to rub in your face all of his achievements—and that you admired.
likewise, michael seemed increasingly entertained by you. every time you made an offhand joke or observation, his laughter echoed across the small balcony.
by the time another half-hour had passed, the noise from the club below almost felt distant, the conversation becoming far more interesting.
eventually michael glanced toward his watch on his wrist, then back towards you before turning back into the empty hallway behind the heavy curtain—an idea seemed to form.
you blink at the sudden proposal, eyebrows wrinkled together. “…leave?”
he nodded. “jus’ for a while.”
you raised an eyebrow, tilting your head quizzically. “and go where exactly?”
a mischievous smirk appeared on michael’s face, a glint appearing in the deep, grounding presence of his dark eyes. “well, there’s this diner.”
“you want to leave studio 54 for a diner?” you replicate his point, eyes widened in disbelief of his idea.
michael stared back, looking completely serious. “it’s a really good diner.”
“still doesn’t explain why,” you softly chuckle with a shake of your head.
“uh, well— ‘cause i’m hungry.” he clarified, his answer coming so quickly that you nearly laughed again.
“an’ ‘cause i don’t think either of us wants to go back down there,” he pointed toward the crowd below.
momentarily you considered it, the idea sounded surprisingly appealing—to get away from the tipsy commotion surrounding you.
michael’s smile gradually widened the moment he saw your expression of thought. “i’ll take that as a yes.”
sneaking out proved to be easier than expected. apparently michael had perfected the art of avoiding attention.
through back hallways, service entrances, and doors you hadn’t even known existed, the two of you managed to slip away from studio 54 almost completely unnoticed.
the cool night air felt refreshing after hours spent inside the crowded club. the lively city glowed around you—neon signs reflecting across rain-dark pavement, taxi headlights drifted through the streets with the distant sounds of music and conversation followed from nearby buildings. for the first time all evening, everything felt calm.
the diner itself was sat tucked between several larger buildings, easy to miss unless you already knew where it was.
the moment you stepped inside, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different from nightclub—warm, dim lighting, a soft hum of conversation compared to the racket of 54, the smell of coffee and freshly cooked food and a jukebox quietly playing marvin gaye in the corner.
the man sat behind the counter immediately recognised michael as he stepped in. following a brief exchange, the two of you were guided toward a secluded booth near the back where you could sit undisturbed where the conversation resumed almost immediately.
hours seemed to disappear, every topic leading to another yet again—music became movies, movies became childhood stories before the nostalgic stories became dreams for the future.
there was never an awkward silence. never a moment where either of you struggled to find something to say.
michael found himself increasingly fascinated by how easy everything felt. you weren’t treating him differently or asking for anything which he was unused to. you were simply being yourself, not making an attempt of putting on a dramatic show for him which he found others girls do—he enjoyed it.
long after the food had arrived and disappeared just as fast, the two of you remained seated in the booth talking as if you’d known each other far longer than a single evening.
by the time you finally glanced at the clock, the night had slipped away entirely, neither of you having even noticed how late it had become until the diner had nearly emptied.
the remanence of customers had long since disappeared. conversations that had once drifted throughout the restaurant had gradually faded away, leaving behind only the occasional clink of cutlery and the soft hum of the neon sign glowing outside the window. even the jukebox seemed quieter now, its music blending into the comfortable atmosphere that had settled around your booth.
at some point, the city beyond the glass had changed too—the streets were calmer than before, the streams of people that had filled the sidewalks earlier in the night had thinned considerably, replaced by only a handful of wandering figures and the occasional taxi rolling past beneath pools of streetlight.
and somehow, despite the hours that had passed, neither of you seemed eager to leave.
michael sat across from you with a half-finished strawberry milkshake he’d completely forgotten about nearly an hour ago. every so often he’d absentmindedly stir it with his straw while listening to whatever story you happened to be telling, and every time he laughed, you found yourself smiling too.
just some hours ago, michael jackson had just been a little more than a name attached to songs on the radio and conversations overheard around studio 54 whilst now he felt like a friend.
“y’know,” michael suddenly announced, breaking a comfortable silence, “i’m real glad i almost tripped over you.”
you laughed in disbelief at the humorous confession. “that’s probably the weirdest compliment i’ve ever received.”
“maybe… but i’m serious,” he admitted, his smile softening. “if i hadn’t gone up there, i would’ve spent the whole night downstairs pretendin’ i wasn’t overwhelmed ‘n waiting to go home.”
“yeah, you nearly kicked me over the edge so you must’ve been real overwhelmed.”
“uh-huh, i forgave you,” you retaliate, a soft laugh escaping your lips.
“good,” he teased, his grin widening as he reached a sip of his, now melted, milkshake. “then we’re even.”
outside, a taxi passed beneath the window, its headlights briefly illuminating the booth before disappearing down the street. michael glanced toward it before looking back at you.
“i think this was better than 54. i’d take this over it any second.
your eyebrows lifted in amusement. “that’s a bold statement.”
“i mean it though. don’t get me wrong, i love the music. i love dancing, i love all of it.” he briefly paused. “but nights like this don’t happen very often.”
something about the honesty and vulnerability in his voice made your chest tighten slightly—because he was right. studio 54 was unforgettable, the lights, music, the crowds and its energy… yet the part of the evening you knew you’d remember years from now wasn’t the dancing, the disco ball or the celebrities or the endless stream of music.
it was this—a hidden balcony, your quiet conversations, the shared diner booth and the unexpected friendship that came with it.
the owner eventually approached your table with an apologetic smile and informed you that they were about to close having already kept the place open an hour longer than they should’ve just because it was michael and he knew he usually came alone, so the new companion encouraged him to give them more time.
neither of you could really argue with that, the two of you gathering your things and stepped back outside into the cool early-morning air.
the city felt completely different now, peaceful in the early morning. the sky had begun to lighten ever so slightly along the horizon, hinting at the sunrise still waiting somewhere beyond the buildings.
briefly, you stood together on the sidewalk, neither entirely sure what to say—if you’d should leave it here or continue.
eventually, michael shoved his hands into his pockets. “well...”
michael breathed out a quiet laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “guess this is where we end it probably.”
you frown slightly at the thought of having to make your departure before giving a nod of agreement. “guess so.”
michael paused. “can we do this again… please?” he almost pleaded, gazing at you with those iconic puppy eyes he adorned.
“of course, i’d do this again every day of the week i could,” you admit with a shy smile.
michael immediately beamed a bright toothy smile back, quick to exchange contact details with you and with one final hug where his cologne melted all of your senses and his light touch provide a distant tickling sensation over your spine, he disappeared down the sidewalk, his figure gradually blending into the quiet city beginning its awakening around him.
you remained there for another moment, watching the streetlights glow against the fading darkness, looking toward the horizon where morning was beginning to creep into the sky.
the night hadn’t gone remotely how you’d expected—you arrived at studio 54 hoping for a few hours of music and dancing. instead, you’d left with something far more memorable.
finally, turning to head home, a smile lingering on your face when you couldn’t help but think that sometimes the best parts of a night happen when you step away from the party and simply let things unfold on their own.
tags : @wondergotham @kietourhrt @xxxercess @ceeriusly-dumb @melynex @sscrumertt @lov3lylxvender @darkgreengrl @frangiipanii @starliqhtsworld @izluvsyou @cloverjeanmj @uknownn111 @invinor @art-faux @softchaosdiary505 @sulkygyu @meowwrites @itsmonetnicole @yourlocaltenderoni @bonni-98 @asillysimp @petalwisps @aizawaspersonalassistant @lia-pitchiner @stickyturtlezipperdeputy @euphoricpxrsona
