HII i love your writing so much like my eyes light up with joy when i see you posted. I WANTED TO ASK if you could do otw mj (ive been listening to get on the floor for two weeks straight) where he meets us in studio 54 and falls head over heels 👅👅
even beneath the mayhem of performers, dancers, the glittering shimmer of the disco ball reflecting beams of light off of flashy sequin dresses, the music almost suffocating as it drums through your feet—you could feel his stare. it didn’t matter where in the room you stood, his eyes detected your silhouette. his gaze returned to you throughout the entire night, and if he could burn a hole through your back he would.
one of michael’s many obvious traits is the way he stares, and he could be staring for a plethora of reasons, to be fair there was much to look at in studio 54. but michael however, stared through admiration, attraction
michael loved women, and he meant it when he said it. they weren’t arm candy, or something he’d use just to climb a social latter; he really loved women. he’s seen plenty of beautiful women, absolutely drop dead gorgeous. but you, you were more than just undoubtedly stunning. you had an aura that radiated off of you, and he wonders if he was the only one that could see it. an organic glow that you possessed that he’s seen so rarely, an energetic pull that he’s never quite experienced before. his eyes were locked on you, and no matter the temporary distraction, he couldn’t peel them off.
hair beautifully framed your face, jumpsuit lined with delicate sequin detailing, twinkling as you bumped shoulders and maneuvered your way through the chaotic crowd. he’s never seen you here before and he’s a frequent guest, you move as if you know the place like the back of your hand.
you’ve made eye contact with him a few times, it’s being really hard to ignore the blatant stare that’s been following you since you’ve entered the club. even amongst this sporadic atmosphere, his awareness was purely on you. he’d be kidding himself if he ignored the way his stomach would tighten whenever you returned is everlasting glare, and the same went for you. a blooming ache of butterflies when you felt his eyes on you, michael’s very easy on the eyes. fun boy to look at, who could blame you?
he knows it’s wrong to stare, mother taught him that young cause he’s always been a looker, but he means no harm. why is he the villain for shamelessly admiring something breathtaking? why can’t he stare at something he likes?
and although mother isn’t here right now to reprimand him, quincy is.
“y’gon keep starin’ at her at night?” he creeps from behind michael, a friendly hand palms his shoulder. the startled jump and shy grin on his face gives him away too easily. he doesn’t deny the claims, it is true. his head ducks in embarrassment, lips trapped beneath his teeth paired with a bashful smile. he hates getting caught, but he doesn’t do a good job being subtle either. honestly most times michael is the complete opposite of subtle.
quincy’s still staring, a knowing shift of the eyes and a tiny nod towards the crowd, motioning him to ‘go on over there’
michael nods back in slight defeat, forcing his legs to make his way over to you, bill following a healthy distance behind.
you so desperately wanted to ignore him, play it cool, play hard to get. but the closer he gets, the more anxious you become. you nearly turn your back towards him to avoid eye contract, but his pace is quick. he’s not even intentionally walking fast, his legs are just long enough for short travel. a few steps and he’s at his destination.
but yet he’s so infectious, you couldn’t beat the smile that tugged at your lips. he strolled over to you slowly, you made eye contact with bill first, doing everything in your power not to acknowledge him face to face. you weren’t so nervous before, but there’s such a small gap between the two of you, and the sweet scent of his perfume is potent, abruptly penetrating your senses.
“finally decided to come over.” you spoke slowly with a smirk. with a half-smile he pinched at his bottom lip, “i didn’t mean to stare.”
you blink up at him, allowing yourself the permission to truly take him in. fro coily and full, it hugs his face charmingly. his complexion brown and warm, he’s a pleasantly handsome young man, but you don’t need a rocket scientist to tell you that. he produces such a welcoming aura so inviting and sweet, you see why everyone’s constantly flocking to him, he’s indisputably magnetic.
you playfully do a full 360, hands scaling down your body as a way to emphasize your outfit and figure, “you must like what you see.”
and he’s throwing his head back, hand clasped across his mouth when he’s thrusted into a fit of laughter. his other hand finds a spot on your shoulder as a way to ‘keep himself stable’ from giggling. the burgundy blush that crept across the swell of his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.
“so you’re pretty and funny.”
