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polishedtaylor · 4 months

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Dance With You Tonight - Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Authors Note: Idk who will all read this but hello, I'm Maddie! And welcome to my first written fic ever!! Pls do not judge if this is badly written😭 I would like to thank @punkshort for giving me the confidence for getting this actually written and beta-ing and this and giving me feedback. Much love and enjoy reading! xoxo

Series masterlist next chapter

Synopsis: You were training and studying to become a professional ballet dancer, until fate had other plans. Leaving you crushed and headed into a new career path. Becoming a dance teacher, a way of keeping dance in your life. Still in the process of healing, you meet Joel Miller. A single dad working as a contractor, trying to make his little girl happy by signing her up for dance lessons. Guarded when you first meet him, he teaches you to love a way you haven't before.

Chapter warnings: Some swearing but that's it for now. Lightly edited. No Y/N

Chapter 1 - Beautiful Stranger (wordcount: 1.5k)

Dancing was your passion, you had been doing it your entire life. It was clear from the start when your mom took you to see your first professional ballet performance. The costumes, the subtle movements and the rhythm of the music. Setting a goal from when you were just a kid, dreaming you would make it as a ballerina. It was easy to say that dance was your calling, being said from dance instructors. And even being accepted into The Boston Ballet. You had a bright future of dance ahead, you could picture it then. Being on a stage, the bright lights focused on only you. Where you danced for a full audience in a theater.

Unfortunately right out of graduating, those dreams came crashing to a halt. It was all because of the accident. It kept you from your training, and not being able to keep up with your dance peers.

You felt there was no direction your life was going anymore, when you had moved back home to Texas to heal, where there was nothing to keep you busy. Then, Miss Beatrice’s dance works came into motion. You were given an opportunity to teach childrens beginners ballet. Your parents urged you to do something productive like this. Thinking you might as well keep some part of dancing in your life, you accepted.

You were playing the light piano music from your phone, and faced the bright eyed little kids. First practice of the season always seemed to go smoothly. Some were not as excited to be there as others, but nonetheless, you began instruction. Introducing them to the basics, the 5 basic positions. And had them walk across the room doing different movements with their arms.

Then you hear the metal door suddenly open, looking away from your students, you see a broad frame with a duffel bag shoved in his left hand and rushing his daughter to sit on the chair to slip her ballet shoes on.

“Um pardon the interruption…” he said sincerely. You stop your teaching to smile and walk out of the studio and into the waiting room.

“That's alright…we aren’t even ten minutes in.” you waved him off, and eyes wandered to the curly haired girl rushing in the waiting room.

‘Keep on practicing the positions girls..” you say as you walk out the door to greet the dad. You look over to the girl and smile. “You must be Sarah.” You say she nods enthusiastically and beams. “I’m Joel, Sarah’s dad” he introduced himself, holding his hand out for you to take it. His hands were calloused but felt comforting, different from your delicate hand. You could almost feel your breath hitch. “Sorry for bein’ late for the first practice… I was behind at work and was in rush gettin’ home to pick her up.” he said with a sincere face. You examine his features, dark brown eyes that look like they've seen a lot. And lines that were deepening on his forehead.

You introduce yourself and continue to reassure him. “Again it is no problem at all, just as long as you don't make it a habit.” you tease lightly. He chuckles and runs his hand through his hair. He looks around to see the other parents of the dancers getting agitated, which you notice and realize you need to continue class. “Well Joel, if you aren't busy you are welcome to sit on the bench and watch.” you smile and fold your two hands together. He did just that and took a breath, placing his hands on his knees. “C’mon Sarah, let’s head in.” she skips behind you and you shut the door behind. You gave a warm smile and had her stand at the bar with the others.

Class then resumes and you catch Sarah up. Joel watches your softness teaching, and your gentle movements as you demonstrated to the peaceful music. Standing on your tiptoes and raising your arms, Joel notices the happiness in your eyes right away. It's as if you entered a completely different reality. He appreciates watching you helping Sarah when she was struggling. Urging her to take a deep breath when she got frustrated.

Time passed and class ended, the kids rushing out to their parents and babbling. You walk behind them and walk to the desk in the studio office, grabbing papers and handing them to Joel. You were giving him the rundown of fundraising for the studio, and telling him that you needed Sarah's clothing size for therecital costume. You smiled as you saw him struggling to keep a note of all the important things, but he wanted to know and stay involved as much as possible for his kid. He smirked and held the papers up. “You got it.” He then found Sarah, and you waved as they walked out the door with the other families.

After the studio was cleared for the evening, you collected your bag and water bottle. Then you walked out of the building.

Unlocking your apartment door you took a deep breath. Not even wanting to think about dinner, you plopped yourself on your couch. Then dialed the nearby Chinese place a few blocks from your place on your phone. Deciding to order takeout, seems like the easiest choice, you think to yourself.

While waiting for your food you got up and prepared a side salad for yourself in your tiny kitchen. Then rested your elbow on the counter and scrolled through your missed calls. A few being from your mom, shit. You then decide to call her tomorrow, it has already been a long day. Along with wanting to start choreographing the recital dance, even though it would be months away, you still wanted to feel on top of things.

A few hours then passed, and the discarded chinese boxes were still on your coffee table. You had your laptop laying on your chest as you focused. Then looking at the time you groan, placing your laptop at the edge of the couch. You then sit up and stretch, and get ready for bed.

You are now snuggled into the soft duvet and your head resting on your pillow. Your mind wandering in your pool of thoughts as you try to sleep. You cannot help but keep thinking of Joel. Something about him made you want to learn more.

A few days pass and you are currently in between classes, so you took a break in your office. Typing away on your computer, replying to emails sent by parents, and filling out papers for Miss Beatrice, who owns the studio.

Completely focused on your work, there was a light knock on your door. Startled out of your trance, you looked up. It was Joel, who had a nervous smile as he held his hand up to wave.

“Hope m’ not interruptin’ anything?” he says cautiously. You shake your head, close your laptop and tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Not at all, Mr. Miller. Come on in.” you give a warm smile and gesture for him to sit down at the seat across from your desk. He does so and sits himself down and clears his throat. “None of that, please…Mr. Miller is my father.” he teases. You smile and begin talking again, “Alright then, Joel. What can I help you with?” you smile.

He shifts in his seat and rubs the back of his neck. You could tell something was bothering him. “Sarah has been talkin’ about starting dance lessons for a while now, and I’m excited I was able to get her here.” You nod, and Joel continues talking. “The problem is that I had no idea how much this would cost..” he slightly chuckles.

“Joel, we are very flexible with our parents. We even offer all sorts of different sorts of payment plans.” you explain. He slowly nods and gives a sigh of relief. “And I will do everything I can to help you guys...Sarah is a really bright student. I would hate to see her leave.” you say sincerely.

“Thank you very much.” he says. “Really means a lot..what you say ‘bout Sarah.” he says proudly. There's a beat of silence between Joel and you. Next thing you know you’re looking in your desk drawer for a sticky note. Scribbling down your number on the piece of paper and slide it across to him. He takes it and examines it. “What’s this?” he drawls.

“It’s my phone number, in case you have any more questions for me.” you smile. He nods with a smile. “I really wish I could help you more today, but I have another class that starts in a few minutes.” you say. Joel then stands up and puts the piece of paper in his back jean pocket. He then follows you out of the office, and you open the door. Noticing him gently placing his hand on the small of your back.

After you both say final goodbyes, you take a deep breath. Watching him exit the building you turn around. It's okay, It's okay, you give all the parents your phone number. You think to yourself. Your mind was churning. You enter the studio and begin warming up and greet the students as they walk in.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedropascaledit #pre outbreak!joel x reader #joel miller #pre outbreak!joel #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us edit #tlouedit #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller edit #joel miller x oc #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader

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justafairytailofinnocence · 16 days

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Modern Thranduil x anxious reader

Caged birds with broken wings

Chapter 1:

A Dance with tardiness

Synopsis: An antisocial, anxious writer in her early 20s attends a ballet class under the teachings of a mysterious, reserved, austere dance instructor. They form an unlikely within their solace and past.

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter 2

A/n: This fanfic doesn't follow along the lines of the hobbit but rather a loosely spin-off au that only uses some characters. I do not own the right to them as they are Tolkien's characters and I respect his creation. (even if the characters might be ooc). Feel free to comment, reblog and like. Let me know if you'd like a chapter 2.

I tended to daydream often, more so when I listened to the music. The tune and tone of the song that played one after the other sent me to the realms I immersed; typically, anyone would daydream into another realm far better than their own: a princess, pirate, elf, fae—anything. My imagination is my realm of comfort, a sealed bubble that I can freely roam however I wish. Unfortunately, within fantasy, we must face reality. Within my reality, I’m not much of an importance, at least not one to have a whole written memoir about. I’m more of one of those faces you’d pass by in the street or grocery store, not giving any second thought to. Though I’d prefer it that way, I’m not much of a talker but rather a writer; I’m more fluent in my words than my speaking. Every attempt I’ve made, I’ve stumbled or become still; my chest would rise heavily and lower deeply. I always asked how people can do it, how they can speak—talk—communicate like it’s a piece of cake. I’d rather shroud myself in my isolation than speak to another living being.

At my desk, in my somewhat clean apartment, I was planning my next latest story in a saga of 3 books. So far, I’ve managed to get in contact with a publishing company via email who were willing to get behind the idea of a feature-length young-adult romance novel, a romance novel about a pirate king and a fae queen. The first chapter was still relatively underdeveloped, yet I’m willing to spend an entire day finishing it. I had only five months to publish the entire chapters. I’ve been a fantasy fan ever since I was a child. To me, fantasy is what the word impossible turned into possible. For ten years, I’ve been writing, and never once has it stripped me of what I truly adore.

Whilst my fingers pressed against the keys on my keyboard, I received a text message on my phone from the side of my desk surrounded by papers. It was from my mom, who was wondering about my well-being. As always, I respond with the usual ‘everything’s going well—I’m pumping out new chapters for my new novel, ‘A Puncture in Time’, you know—the one with pirates and fantasy, new chapters soon to come ;)’. Even though she’s smart enough to see through my little façade, she writes back, ‘Hey listen, I know it’s hard right now, but I can assure you, things will get better; it just takes practice; I know you’ll meet someone you’ll find it easy to talk to’. I sighed heavily; within her words, I have faith, yet doubt. Should I choose to believe her, bite the bullet and try to speak up or wallow in a lie that can send her mind at ease? Before I wrote back, she sent a post with a link. I furrowed my brows as curiosity swelled my thoughts, my finger tapped the link. It was an ad. An ad for ballet classes. I thought it odd why she would send me something like this: I’m no dancer; I’m certainly no ballerina.

I replied with a question mark ‘?’.

A message bubble popped up: ‘…’ I awaited her reply.

As she was still typing, I took the liberty of glancing through the ad quickly. The tab loaded with a cursive font in bold ‘Les danseuses se réjouissent’. Scrolling past the stock images of ballet dancers, I came across a small section of different levels offered: beginner, Intermediate, and advanced. My mind raced with doubt; I had no experience in ballet, at least not since I was a young child. I wondered to myself, ‘Do I really want to take this? After all, I’m not exactly one for groups’. However, my mind was put at ease when my eyes came across an option for ‘one-on-one private lessons’. At least, I wouldn’t be with people who were far more experienced—let alone a group; the thought of many eyes staring at me—would have my heart sink. As I clicked the option, I was astounded; there were no reviews, pictures, or even a description of the instructor. I was sceptical. Surely, if you were to teach a class, you’d have at least a brief introduction of yourself. Even as an author, I have a concise introduction in my publications. I lightly sighed, weighing my options; on the one hand, it’ll please my mom, get me out of the apartment, and keep me fit; on the other hand, despite being private, I’m meeting someone I don’t know. Who knows what this person’s intention is, even if it’s for a class.

Finally, I heard a ‘ding’ as she replied, ‘Please try, at least for me; it’ll be good for your health, and you once mentioned you wanted to be a ballerina. I know the world isn’t always what we want it to be, but I know you can make it shine; I’ve seen it in your novels; give this a chance, give them a chance, to show them how you can shine, because I know you’ll be the brightest star there :).’

My eyes softened as I read every word; I couldn’t deny she had a way of getting through to me. She was always a caring woman, along with my dad. They were the only two people I could speak to without pressure or the weight in my chest.

I pressed back onto the tab with the private lessons. I clicked to see the booking dates—there’s an option to book for tomorrow, and the price is only $45 per lesson. For the price, it wasn’t too bad; yet still expensive. I filled in the details required to send the booking through, yet my finger hovered as I was about to press ‘confirm’. My mind came to a tussle of thoughts and hesitations; this would be the first time, in a long time, that I would speak face-to-face with an actual living being. However, I recalled Mom's words, ‘Because I know you’ll be the brightest star there’.

Breathing in—I pushed it, I pressed confirm.

I did it. I’m going to attend a ballet class. My head slowly lowers onto my desk, surrounded by papers. My hair dangled over my forehead. The adrenaline that reached the height of my mentality came crashing down. It’s like going on a rollercoaster you didn’t ask for, coming from the highest point of the rail down to the pit below. I start to feel light-headed. I want to sleep. I want to stay here. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake. What if this doesn’t work out?

I rose slowly from my desk chair, picked up my phone, and texted, ‘I’ve booked lessons for tomorrow…I hope you're right about this.’

I watched as once more, awaiting her response, ‘…’

‘Oh, I’m so happy, you’ll fit right in, I know it :)’ she texted.

I didn’t respond. She’s pleased, at least.

I decided to call it a night; I’ve had enough pressure for one day. I logged off, cleaned the papers on my desk, pushed them into a neat-ish pile and headed to the bathroom to shower. As I opened the door, I went inside to set down my pyjamas by the medium-small bathtub’s acrylic side rim. My bathroom isn’t big exactly, but neither is it small. It’s moderate for what it was: a bathtub, shower, toilet, sink, and a medium-sized mirror in the same room. It’s not precisely palace material, but it helps soothe my thoughts. I held my hand out as I turned on the shower, feeling the trickling water against my skin. The temperature quickly changed from cold to warm in just five seconds. Once I was satisfied, I stripped bare, sliding my long-sleeved green shirt off and sliding my darker tracksuit pants. I tossed my unmentionables inside the bathtub. I stepped inside the shower, allowing the warm water to run freely down my skin. I shut the shower enough to have a slit entrance still. I grabbed the soap, rubbing it over my skin, arms, legs, and body. I splashed water on my face as the water rinsed the suds away. I hovered my hands in my eyesight, glancing closer at my fingers. I could see the redness and patches from where I’d picked my skin; it’s a habit I developed since childhood. The habit would annoy Mom, often whispering or saying straight, “Stop picking”, even touching my hand to remind me. Unfortunately, this habit hasn’t subsided; I sometimes even look at my skin with little care, picking the cuticles or rough patches.

Once I finished scrubbing my body with soap, I turned off the water and opened the shower door to step onto the bathmat. I grabbed a towel from the single towel rack located beside the shower. I dried my body, running the towel over my skin. As I wrapped the towel around my body, I glanced at my face in the mirror above the sink. They say eyes are the most expressive in emotion. My narrowed, pinkish lips thinned.

I snapped out of my gaze, continuing to slip on my long blue pants decorated in owl prints, then, the next, a long-sleeve top with the basic purple on them topped with a giant owl embroidered in the front area. Owls have always resonated with me, whether it's their symbolism or captivating beauty. I placed the towel on the side of the bathtub’s rim. I picked up my previous clothes and took it into my bedroom. My bedroom was also medium sized, having a queen-sized bed and an oaken cupboard with a mirrored wardrobe. My room was decorated with tiny figurines I’d collect overtime, albeit from movies I’ve fancied or books. I placed the clothes in my hamper basket behind my door. My body relaxed when my eyes lingered toward my bed, the messy, deep blue sheets draped to the left side. I dismissed the thought of tucking them in for the time being, only plonking myself onto the mattress and wrapping myself within the single cotton sheets and doona drifting off.

Dreaming is the easy part, letting what visions came to my mind run wild. Sometimes, it’s suitable for inspiration, but other times, it's nightmares. The imagination is still enchanting, although, this time, it was peculiar. I was in a birdcage decorated with gold; the entrance was bolted shut; my hands gripped the golden rods holding the cage together. I tried to scream but to no avail. I tried to shake the cage, yet I was too small to provoke movement. My body lowered, feeling the coldness of the metal plate below. I had nothing but rosy ribbon pointe shoes. I suddenly felt myself, in no control, rise as though my limbs were attached to strings. I started to dance, my arms and legs stretching to fit the perfect movements. Eventually, I stopped mid-movement, standing on one leg while extending the other behind. I couldn’t move; I was frozen in place. I could do nothing but shut my eyes.

Suddenly, I woke up; my eyes fluttered open from the confusion I had just endured. Rising from the bed, I pondered for a few seconds. ‘What on earth did I dream about?’. My hands pressed against my face, trying to comprehend my dream and reality. I pulled the sheets off me and got up for the morning. A typical morning for me results in the usual routine: dressing, brushing my teeth and hair, and then looking forward to what the day offers me. Until I remembered that I had booked that class. I typically picked out green tracksuit pants with a white singlet, hoping that would suffice. I picked up my purse and headed out the door to my car. I entered inside, placing my purse in the front seat as I turned on the white car. I noticed outside that it started to snow. Snow is beautiful, especially the little snowflakes that fall into your hand and dissolve upon touch.

As the car started, I prepared to drive to wherever it was that awaited me. The location was further from where I lived; it must’ve been at least twenty-eight minutes. The drive wasn’t particularly bothersome for me; when you live in New York, you get used to the traffic.

As I drove, the snowflakes emerged in more significant numbers. Eventually, I found parking just next to the side of a café. I wasn’t aware if it was for the staff or guests. However, it seemed empty with only a few cars, so—if I get called out on it, I’ll move my car. No one seemed to notice, so I assumed I was okay. I grabbed my black parker from the back and zipped it up. Exiting the car, I stopped to admire the snow falling for a few seconds. It was January 4th, so the snow season was still here. My hands shoved in my pockets, beginning to wander toward where I needed to be. According to the ad, it was building ‘52’; it was vague, I know, but it was the details given. I trudged through the snow, seeing building after building, until I came across something with the number ‘52’, where I needed to be. My hand gripped the gold-looking handle attached to the glass door. As I entered, I came upon a staircase; I took one step after the other. I quickly glanced at the ad to see what floor it was on, yet to no avail. Was it the ‘4th floor? Oh god, oh god, please don’t resort to me asking someone. My fingers started to twitch; I raised one of my fingertips to my lips, feeling the rough patches. My thumb started scraping off the first layer, and small blood trickles formed. I ran my fingers over my lips again as I trailed up the stairs. I could feel my chest becoming heavier, my mind swell with thoughts of self-doubt. Suddenly, the anxiety soon started to subside as my eyes saw the sight of a door. My fingers hesitantly wrapped around the door handle; I took one breath in, trying to be brave. I pushed it open—only for my worst nightmare to come to life.

My breathing became heavier, my heart sank, my eyelids widened, and I could feel myself hyperventilating. There was a group of ballerinas staring directly at me. There must’ve been at least four? Five? Looking my way! Their ages varied, going into their late 20s.

The one brunette asked in French “es-tu perdu, cherches quelqu’un”.

I couldn’t concentrate; my mind dwelled with clouded thoughts of judgment. I pressed my finger against my lip, trying to feel the rough patches.

Another asked in English, “My friend asked if you’re searching for someone”.

Quickly, my eyes diverted to the ground, avoiding their gaze. “I-I-, pr-viate, less-on”. I stumbled over my words.

“Lessons? Private lessons?” the girl spoke once more.

I nodded, avoiding eye contact.

As I quickly glanced, a middle-aged woman in her mid-forties stepped closer; I assumed she was the dance teacher. “Are you referring to the private dance lessons advertised? the one taught by Mr. Oropherion?”.

I paused for a moment, trying to gather my words. Mr Oropherion? Is he the teacher I’m with?

“I-Is. This. Right. Floor.” I tried to sound out the right words, but it was impossible. Perhaps my conscience was right; perhaps this was a terrible idea.

The middle-aged woman, confused, pointed toward the direction I needed to go. “you’ll need to head up one more level, then head to your right” Her voice was calm with a hint of soprano.

Still avoiding eye contact, I left, not even saying thank you, focusing on wanting to escape. I closed the door in front and let out a heavy breath. My head lowered to touch the tip of my hands. I wanted to melt in that moment; I wanted nothing more than to return home. However, I reminded myself that I was doing this for Mom. I breathed in once more, looking up at the door; my hands quickly released, and I began to walk quickly, edging further up the stairs. My mind came crashing down, feeling the dreariness wash over me. Feeling tired, I finally, at last, came across the door I needed to be. It was blank, the painted white withering away around the edges. My hand reached the doorknob, feeling the roundness, turning it slightly. I could feel the adrenaline kick in. I was hesitant, but my nerves started to build.

I started to whisper to myself, “Just a general hello, that’s all it takes—

You're doing this for Mom—

Give them a chance to show them how I can shine; give them a chance to see who I am because I’ll be the brightest star there”.

I breathed in, closing my eyes and opening the door. As I tried to force my eyes open, I was confused. There was no one here. It was an empty space surrounded by mirrors with bar beams attached to them. My eyes scanned the room, yet no one was there. I suppose I should be relieved, maybe the teacher had caught a sickness and decided to ditch the whole class. I wandered further inside; I might as well take a quick peek. I unzipped my black parker with a furry hood, tossed it on the coat hanger and took off my shoes, leaving my white socks on. I stood in the middle of the dance room, embracing the quiet ambience. I looked in the mirrors, reflecting my figure. Was this even what ballerinas wear? Who even is Mr. Oropherion? If he doesn’t show up in the next 15 minutes, I’m heading off and not returning.

Perhaps Aelwynn, the fae queen in my novel, would’ve also been able to dance freely and eloquently in movement. I still wonder what would entrance the pirate king Sarek Salazar. I never pictured him to be devilishly handsome, though. I suppose Aelwynn would be a beauty, but there must be more to it—beauty can only go so far in their bond; what would their obstacles or hardships be? Perhaps the fae queen is somewhat intertwined with difference, the opposite of a fairytale. Aelwynn is fair, kind, beautiful and strong; she meets all the criteria for something otherworldly, yet what if Sarek is her opposite, a beast? No—What if he was average, a gross-looking thing? Pirates are anyway; what if he wasn’t powerful, just an average man with greed—and the dynamic changes, challenging Sarek to choose between the love of his life or treasure?

Or he would choose—

Suddenly, I heard a male voice emit behind me: “You best have a thorough explanation, girl. Do not even think about squandering my precious time.”

My breathing became heavier as I realized someone was speaking to me. I did not turn around; I was afraid to. Instead, I avoided eye contact, too paralysed to move. My head stooped low, and my hands stood to the side. He spoke again, “Clearly, you are here for a reason, are you not? I’ll admit your intrusion is rather fatuous.”

I didn’t glance up; I couldn’t look; I needed time to gather the words to explain. What should I say? Hey, sir, some ballerinas told me to come here, and I fear speaking to people.

“I see you have a mouth; that means you must have a tongue. Go on, speak.” His voice was deep and tranquil, composed yet icy.

I took a deep breath in, slowly turning around. As my legs moved, I slowly gathered the courage to look into the man’s eyes, even if I muttered a ‘hello’. It would be enough. As my head glanced up to meet his, I noticed his appearance.

He—was like—something out of a fairytale. His face was lean and chiselled; his eyes were like ice; his blueish-greyish irises complemented his cold gaze. His hair tressed down like water reaching his chest, light like snow. Whilst his skin was pale in comparison, a fair tone in colour. His attire seemed far more affluent than mine, donning a black trench coat with white underneath. His trousers complimented the darkness of his coat, and his black loafers were polished. I glanced at his right finger, an oval-shaped ring with a diamond glass stone crafted in sterling silver.

“Did you hear me not the first-time girl?” his tone turned stern.

My mouth moved, finally finding the words to speak. “H-hello, I’m Y/n”.

“y/n?” he muttered.

My eyes glanced downward once more as I slowly nodded.

“So, you have a voice after all, pray, tell. Why are you lingering in my domain?” he said shortly.

I muttered “private lessons”, though my voice sounded like a whisper.

“Ah, so you’ve seen the ad; I suppose you haven’t wasted our time after all, although you are five minutes late; I expect punctuality, to be exactly on time at the hour.” His voice sounded stern once more.

Well gee, it’s not like it’s my first time here, and gotten lost. My eyes still avoided his; I couldn’t look up, so I nodded.

He didn't react when I avoided his gaze, dismissing it. However, he commented on something else: “Your posture is lamentable. Stand up straighter like so.” The tip of his finger lightly touched my chin, lifting it to meet his gaze. I didn’t turn away precisely, yet I still flinched. My breathing slowed down as I once more met his gaze. His eyes narrowed, and his lips thinned.

“You stand there like a bird, wounded by the natures of evil, ignorant of the world’s knowledge, caged and sheltered from the shadows that lurk within the realm. Tell me, little bird, care to spread your wings?” I glanced at myself in the mirror, standing straighter. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but I didn’t say anything, only breathing slowly.

His finger pulled away, and he turned his back to me, walking away.

“I expect to see you here tomorrow at exactly the seventh hour of the night”.

“Do not make me regret my decision, or you shall return to the cage from where you came, little bird”, He muttered.

With that, he walked out of the room, distancing himself further and further away. At that moment, I stood in disbelief for a few seconds, trying to understand what had happened. However, once my thoughts were collected, I gathered my things and scurried out of there, wanting nothing more than to enter my car. Once I exited the building, I was hit with the coldness in temperature as it touched my face.

I opened the car door, tossing my things in the back, turning the engine on. I looked back, trying to see the building to the left. As I drove, my thoughts were plagued with astonishment. I didn’t look away; I maintained eye contact for longer than three seconds, and—I managed to speak my name without stumbling over my words. My emotions displayed were as if I’d seen a ghost. Yet—his face—his appearance—it reminded me of snow; I always loved snow; even when I was a child, it was the happiest of my memories. I recall when my parents took me to the park; I was fascinated by the sight of the winter wonderland, my face lighting up with delight and laughing with joy. I always find that snow rekindles the fond memories I have.

Perhaps Mom was right after all; this might be the start of something I’ve never been able to do. Talk.

#thranduil au #thranduil x you #thranduil #thranduil oropherion #the hobbit au #the hobbit #thranduil fanfic #lord of the rings #thranduil ballet au #thranduil headcanon #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x reader #thranduil oropherion x reader

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elsweetheart · 1 year

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Oh yeah ballerina reader would be so so cute :( like imagine ellie knowing nothing about ballet, but she knows you, she sees you in class and maybe you’re a college dance major so she sneaks around to see you practice through the windows of the dance studio and that’s more than enough for her like she can’t stop thinking about you so she shows up to every recital you’re in because she thinks you’re so pretty and loves to see you dance and be on stage. Like giving you flowers at the end of them all nervous when she finally builds up enough courage to ask you out :,(

ellie, the complete opposite aesthetic of a ballerina watching and admiring you from afar, coming along to all your recitals and then approaching you pretending to be interested in beginners ballet just so she can talk to you… and ofc, you take an inch and give her a mile — sweetly offering to give her some pointers, and ellie feels like she’s gonna die of nerves when you meet her in the empty dance studio, twirling around her showing her moves :(( and ellie is stumbling around like she has two left feet, trying to copy just for the sake of keeping up her little white lie. and then your hands are on her, on her hips, lifting her chin up, pressing her back to fix her posture. “point your toes, ellie!” you giggle, and she forgets how to even work her feet, staring at her flat foot BEGGING her brain to work again. and even though she cannot do a single move and is barely trying you’re so sweet to her and patient and tell her that you’re ‘sure after some practise you’ll get it!’ and ellie’s like… already falling in love :( and wants to teach you some things, if you know what i mean

#anon #ellie williams x reader

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danceswithfatness · 1 year

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A three pack of ballet-style wrap sweaters.

Feet in first position.

Peep the horse show ribbons in the back.

#adult beginner ballet #adult ballet #beginner ballet #ballerina #ballet #plus size ballet #plus size ballerina #haes #health at every size #movement #dance #plus size dancer #plus size dance

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chiskz · 1 year

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▶️ 돼끼 GYM (DWAEKKI GYM) #1 & #2 | [SKZ-CODE] EP.29 & EP.30

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.2k

♡taglist: @g4m3girl , @smh-anon , @neohyxn , @stealanity

《 ♡ 》

[ xxx ] - editors' notes

♡ intro

Changbin tries to motivate the members to come in. Chichi is standing next to Hyunjin, making a little ponytail. „But can we not come at all?!" She exclaims laughing. [ members really want to go home! ]

Changbin hugs the members in greeting, then pre-checking the condition of their bodies. When he hugs Chichi, he pulls away surprised.

"What? Her grip is really strong! I hardly felt the difference between her and Bang Chan!”

Chichi smiles embarrassed, the editors add a cute teddy bear sound. [ Bang Chan Junior?! ]

It's time to measure members’ biceps. Changbin wraps the measure around Ichi's arm.

"What?"

"What?" The other members immediately stand by, interrupting the previous activities. Ichi looks surprised too.

"37cm."

Han and Felix sit down slowly. "How much?!"

"How is that even possible?!"

Chichi tilts her head like a listening puppy. "I exercise too!" [ the members never cease to surprise each other ]

Han doesn't believe it and for the rest of the measurement he stands with Chichi in the background comparing their shoulders, the girl continuing to giggle, covering her face.

♡ InBody Test

Changbin holds Chichi's results in hands.

"She really is made of muscles." Chan says, looking over Changbin's shoulder. Changbin nods.

"But there could be more body fat though."

"Then feed me better!" She exclaimed at once as a joke.

"I should start cooking for you then." Minho says and Felix nods.

„Me too.” [ CHICHI, the most spoiled fake maknae ]

♡ Flexibility Test

"Chichi gets banned from this at start!" Han exclaimed, pointing accusingly at her. "Who would win against past ballerina?!"

"Is it my fault?!" She called out in reply as she stood up and she and Han pretend to start a fight. Felix grabs her by the arms and pulls her away, laughing.

"It's Chichi who will be the judge then!" Changbin called. [ a worthy successor to coach dwaekki! ]

"But let her judge by doing the split anyway!" Said Minho, and Chichi gave him a terrified look. "Let her suffer with us!" [ one for all, all for one… ]

So, Chichi watched members’ matches all the while doing splits on the floor. Seungmin walked over to her and patted her head.

"Don't worry. You were always short anyway." [ dwaekki gym or chichi roast? ]

♡ Planks

Minho took several breaks during it, so he unofficially failed the task. Of course, he couldn't be alone in this. When Chichi was doing an exercise with Hyunjin, Minho sat on her and she fell to the floor in surprise, and she started to hit the floor as a sign that she was giving up. [ someone save this baby tiger... ] / [ "why is everyone bullying me today?!" ]

Fortunately, both were great at jumping rope, so further sabotage was unnecessary.

While Han is jumping (or trying to) on a rope, Chichi and Seungmin in the background are trying to get on one of the machines (which of course could not be physically climbed, but who will stop them?). During one of the close-ups of Jisung, a loud bang is heard in the background. In the next shot, Chichi and Seungmin are already sitting with the others, next to each other, holding back their laugh.

♡ Beginner or Advanced?

Chichi was placed in the Advanced group even though Minho, Hyunjin and Jeongin were in favor of putting her in the Beginner group. [ bullying Chichi continues… ]

♡ Beginner Level Training

As Seungmin, Changbin, and Felix do demonstrative squats, Chichi sits down with Hyunjin on one of the treadmills behind them.

"This is a better view than in a fruit shop!" She exclaimed in delight, Hyunjin laughs loudly and claps. [ what is she talking about? are butts like watermelons or melons? too many questions... ]

Chichi watches Minho and tries to do a squat, deliberately falling to the floor in the process.

"Coach, can you help me too?" She asks, pouting out her lower lip pleadingly.

"You don't need help!" Changbin called, gesticulating. "We all know you don't need help! You don't even belong to this group, get out!”

Chichi lowers her head pretending to be sad and leaves the room. [ failing to get attention from the coach ]

* EP.30 *

Han and Chichi dance tango in the background, doing a million unnecessary pirouettes. Changbin speaks about each member.

"Chichi."

Chichi immediately runs over and stands to attention, pretending that she wasn't fooling around earlier at all.

"Chichi exercises regularly, right?"

"Right."

"And she trained regularly in the past as well, right?"

"Right."

"That's why you should all follow her as example."

The editors used the teddy bear sound again as Chichi smiles sheepishly, puffing out her cheeks slightly. Han and Jeongin pretend to have a cough, in the intervals of which "nerd" and "teacher's pet" is heard.

♡ Bench Press

Chichi massages Jeongin in the background as soon as he finishes his barbell warm-up, then unfazed, she does hers. When after the warm-up it was time for real weights, Chichi lay down on the bench, pouting and puffing her cheeks slightly in thought.

"60kg? 60kg…”

"Too much?" Chan asked immediately.

"Not at all!" she laughed. [ don't underestimate the spirit of the tiger! ]

Changbin glances at Chan, then back at her.

"80kg?"

"Mhm. Let's make it 80kg."

So Chan adds weights and stands behind the bench where her head was to belay her while Changbin stood over her with his legs spread apart, with her lying on the bench between his legs. Chichi flushed her cheeks, laughing nervously.

"Yeah, I feel much safer now!"

Changbin lowered his head immediately, his blush and small cute smile were not visible on the camera.

♡ Deadlifting

"I do not like this." Chichi laughs lightly as she stands next to Jeongin and rubs her wrists. "It's a bit too boring for me."

After advices from Felix, it was her turn. She took the right position and moved her eyebrows significantly towards Chan, who immediately understood what was going on, with a smile. He added weights again and in this exercise Chichi also lifted 80kg. Changbin belayed her while standing behind her, but he looked away from time to time, pressing his lips into a thin line [ even coach dwaekki was speechless? but why? ]

♡ Squats

"I love squats." Chichi starts jumping in place like a rabbit. "That was my specialty!" She exclaims happily, the editors put a squeaking sound under her jumps [ advanced group seems a bit livelier! ]

Chichi walks over to the barbell and assumes the position, glancing behind her back at the other members. "What? Won't you cover my butt?!"

"No."

"No. There is no need." Han announced and along with Jeongin and Chan they sat down behind her to get a better view. [ Stray Perverts? ]

♡ Eating & Drinking

Changbin hands a shake to Seungmin and Chichi sitting next to him. After unwrapping her gym gifts, she and Han play volleyball in the background with a massage ball [ some kids have short attention spans... ]

"My New Year goal?" Chichi thinks for a moment. “I would love to get back into doing barbell squats. I forgot how much joy it gives me. I focused on other exercises and neglected them a bit. I would like to go back to them and beat my previous record of 95 kg.”

"I'll help you." Changbin replied as soon as Chichi finished speaking.

Chichi covers her face with her hair immedietely [ coach dwaekki, always ready to help! ]

《 ♡ 》

#oc-ommunity #kpop addition #stray kids 9th member #kpop added member #kpop oc #stray kids oc #idol oc #stray kids female oc #stray kids added member #stray kids addition #stray kids female addition #kpop fake member #fake skz code

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