#first and third were warmups. second was supposed to be one too but he looked like a wikihow tutorial drawing and i couldnt handle that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boymeetsweevil · 4 years

Text

in your court

Grouping: Reader x B-ball player!Jaehyun (feat. BFF!Hyuck)

Word Count: ~10.8k

Warnings/Themes: Two idiots in love, oc is scary when mad, hyuck is crafty always, jae is a bit intense but he’s just trying his best, gratuitous descriptions of dimples, a kiss!!! sfw!

Prompt: “awkward!oc with his basketball teammate jaehyun. Honestly anything with bff!haechan.”

“Make sure you don’t make it look shaky.”

Donghyuck puts the phone camera close to his face so he can better see your handiwork through the video call. He looks a bit like a fish, but you can’t see him because you’re focused on the mirror in front of you.

“Remind me why I’m being forced to do this?”

“Because I’m your best friend and I deserve a sign just as much as Jisung and Johnny.”

You have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes so you don’t mess up the number 14 you’re drawing carefully onto your cheek in eyeliner. Although you hate to see good makeup go to waste, you’re trying to be a better friend while also trying not to accidentally write the number backwards. It’s Donghyuck’s new number this season and he begged you to show some team spirit despite the fact that you normally mix with sports the same way oil mixes with water. The last time you showed up at practice was the first day of the season and you fell from the third courtside bleacher after Donghyuck called you over to introduce you to a cute new walk-on team member. If anything, just being around sports is dangerous for you.

A minute later, you sneeze while holding the pencil and draw a huge line straight through all your hard work. Donghyuck literally screams and you hang up the call to focus. When you finally finish redrawing on the side of your face, there’s half an hour left before the first home game of the spring season starts. You grab the matching construction paper sign you made earlier, complete with a huge gold glitter 14, and head out the door. Taeyong is supposed to pick you up so you can make it to the gym on time. He’s the only other friend you have who is remotely associated with sports and that’s only because he’s dating one of the players, Doyoung.

The ticket Donghyuck gave you days ago places you near the court’s side with a near-perfect view. You settle in and wait for the game to begin. The team is already out on half of the court, doing some light warmup tosses and making the occasional mean eye at the visiting team practicing on the other half. You catch your best friend’s eye and he lights up when he sees the sign and eyeliner drawing.

“Check me out, Hyuck!”

You turn to give him a full view of your profile, subtly proud of your skills.

“Look at you,” he drawls as he jogs over to you, “You know, I think this is the best your eyeliner has ever looked.”

“God, you’re so annoying.”

You try your best to cast an elbow at him without disturbing the still slightly wet glitter on the sign. When you nearly take out the old man sitting directly in front of you, you settle for flipping him off.

“Wait,” Taeyong peers at the sign, “Aren’t you—”

“I think Doyoung said he was looking for you. Something about wanting a good luck kiss.”

Taeyong narrows his eyes but still stands up to go look for said boyfriend. Doyoung’s not the nervous type, but he’s also not the type to say no to some pre-game affection. You watch Taeyong disappear towards the locker room while Donghyuck steps over some of the fans already seated and takes the now open spot next to you.

“Hey,” he says with no trace of humor in his voice any longer. “Promise you’ll still be my friend after this game?”

You place the sign on your lap and turn to look at your friend. Lately the coach has been pushing him harder and you suppose it’s starting to wear down his usual confidence. With the hand that’s not covered in little golden glitter flecks, you reach down to rub his shoulder.

“Of course I will, Hyuck. And even if you guys don’t win tonight, I’m still taking you to get food after. My treat.”

It was supposed to be a rare moment of sincere friendliness. But this seems to distress him further because he looks down at your hand on his arm and then groans before covering his face in his hands. You’re confused but you don’t have any time to ask him what’s up. A few of his teammates walk over then.

“Sorry to break up the love fest, but Coach wants us to do some stretches before the whistle,” team captain Johnny says, gesturing to the other side of the gym where some other players are already contorting themselves.

Behind Johnny stands that new walk-on. The one you fell on your face in front of. He takes in your temporary face tattoo and overly detailed sign and smirks, allowing a dimple to wink at you. You can only hope to every deity in the universe that he doesn’t remember the way you first met.

“Hey,” he smiles good-naturedly. “Glad to see you made it here in one piece.”

“Thank you,” you say with way too much sincerity.

It’s enough to knock Donghyuck out of his bad mood and make him snort loudly beside you. The new guy smiles a bit wider, revealing a twin dimple. You look away.

“Don’t get too friendly, Jung,” Donghyuck says with fake menace in his voice. “There’s only room for one Dream Team member in her life, and that’s me.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you guys were—”

“We’re just friends,” you blurt out before looking down at the fascinating liver spots on the old man’s head in front of you.

“Yeah, she wishes.”

“I definitely don’t,” you snap.

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Well, I’m glad you don’t.”

“Guys, come on!” Johnny calls a moment before the coach’s whistle blows to give a final warning.

As they walk over to the side of the gym you curse yourself for acting so weird in front of that Jung kid. If he didn’t think you were a dope when you tripped over nothing the first time you met, you’re certain he thinks you have the charms of a 13 year-old boy by now. The only thing that snaps you out of it is the fact that Donghyuck is in a time of distress and clearly needs his friend.

With squared shoulders and a new sense of duty, you try your hardest to be the world’s best cheerleader. You’re not really sure how sports work, basketball included. The game itself turns out to be really fun. Even though you’re not quite sure what’s happening. Taeyong sends you a text with a picture of your own mildly confused face contorted into a pout as you raise your handmade sign a moment too late, after everyone has already sat back down. But eventually you figure it out after enough times of standing when people around you wearing school colors stand up first. You know enough to cheer every time Donghyuck takes the ball to the basket and boo loudly every time he gets knocked down or his shot misses. In fact, you get so into it that you catch yourself cheering for other players. You even make the mistake of cheering once for new kid Jung but immediately stop when he catches a glimpse of you in the stands and shoots you a beaming smile.

They win by a small margin, thanks to a 3 pointer Johnny shot in the first half of the game. By the time that happens, you feel like you have a good feel for the game. You don’t have to wait for the other fans from your school to stand up when the last buzzer rings, and you instinctively run out onto the court with the rest of them as the final score settles. There’s adrenaline and joy pushing you into Donghyuck’s arms. He’s genuinely surprised but welcomes the greeting, spinning you lightly while he laughs.

“Congrats on the first win of the season,” you shout when you finally pull back. He lets you squish his cheeks in excitement. Doyoung ambles over then, looking for Taeyong. You offer him congratulations as well.

“Thanks,” he smirks a bit as he takes in your large sign and the slightly smudged 14 on your cheek. “Shouldn’t Jaehyun be the first to hear it, though?”

You raise a confused brow.

“Shouldn’t I be the first to hear what?”

You can’t help the way you stumble back against Donghyuck at the deep sound of Jung—no— Jaehyun’s voice. He looks pleased. Probably with the outcome of their first game.

“I was just saying you should get the first ‘congrats’,” Doyoung explains, nodding in your direction. Jaehyun blinks, but takes it in stride.

“I’d be glad to receive it,” he says with a grin. His dimples pop out even more than usual under the sheen of sweat and the glow from the fluorescents. “So, what’d you think? How’d I do?”

You have no idea why but your heart is beating like it’ll fly out of your chest. It takes everything in you to muster up a cool and natural response.

“You throw good.”

Donghyuck, the traitor that he is, gets sent into a cackling fit. If you listen carefully, between the gasps for air and the hyena-pitched giggles you can hear him calling you a dork. You’d turn to yell at him, but he’s right. Doyoung barely covers up his own laughter while leaning on Donghyuck’s shoulder to try to disguise the sound as a series of coughs. But Jaehyun merely smiles down at his shoes as if he’s somehow moved by your clunky words.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“No, I feel like I did well today thanks to your little sign.”

“The sign? Oh. Actually, this is for—”

In that moment you realize two things. The first is that Jaehyun’s jersey has a big 14 emblazoned on the front of it. Just like the one you spent 10 whole minutes drawing onto your right cheek. And the one you spent 2 hours glittering the night before. The second is that you aren’t nearly as observant as you thought you were. Then you realize a third thing: Donghyuck is slowly creeping away from you as it all clicks together in your head.

When you turn to face your friend, the color has already drained out of his neck. He can see the wheels turning in your head and he raises his hands in a placating gesture, but you cut him off before he can even start. Grabbing at his jersey you make him turn around until you can see the white number 6 emblazoned on the fabric. It’s the same number he had last season, and the season before that.

“Just to clarify,” you begin with an unsettlingly calm voice, “When you asked me earlier if I would still be your friend after the game, you were talking about this, right?”

Donghyuck’s eyes go wide and dart around anywhere but your face. “You know what? I think you’re thinking of my brother, Hyongduck. We look a lot alike, so it’s an honest mistake.”

The coach calling him over in that moment is the only thing that keeps you from eviscerating him on the court with so many witnesses. You let him go, but not without him having to un-pry your fingers from his jersey. Jaehyun watches on with amusement in his eyes and you remember that he saw you nearly Hulk out on your friend.

“So, you actually didn’t know my number was 14?”

You shake your head, “I thought it was Hyuck’s.”

“I see.”

He tilts his head again, with eyes narrowed he looks you over before looking past you to where Donghyuck has finally made it to locker room safety.

“Well,” he fiddles with the chain around his neck, “I’m kind of sad the sign isn’t actually mine.”

“Oh. I mean, you can keep it if you want.”

Jaehyun’s head ducks down a second time, shaking his head at the ground like he heard something funny that you couldn’t hear. He does take the sign out of your hands though. With slow hands, he wraps the construction paper up until all the remaining glitter is safely tucked away.

“What about that one?”

“What do you mean?”

He points at his own cheek to mirror yours. You had forgotten all about the 14 you drew on your face to go with the sign.

“I don’t—I don’t know if you can wrap this one up, you know” you laugh stiltedly.

“Yeah. But I could always take a bit for the road. May I?”

All you can do is let out an eloquent ‘huh’ before he’s reaching out then and swiping away at some of the eyeliner that had moved around during the game. The drag of the pad of his thumb across your cheek should be completely harmless. Donghyuck has been infinitely rougher with his handling of you; one of the privileges of close friendship. And yet it’s this soft touch that has your breath leaving you like he punched it out of you. You swear the corner of his mouth raises, but it could be a trick of the light.

“What are you doing after—”

“I gotta go, sorry. Good game,” you toss over your shoulder before pulling your phone up to your ear like you’re taking a sudden phone call.

No one has to know that you spend the next few minutes dunking your head under one of the running faucets in an empty locker room to cool your heated face.

---

Nearly 20 minutes later, Donghyuck is tiptoeing out of the men’s locker room. He doesn’t notice the shadow waiting for him. When he deems the coast all clear, he opens up his messaging app and shoots you a text asking for your whereabouts.

“I’m right here.”

He jumps nearly 3 feet in the air before letting the scream that built in his throat turn into a whine. You’re just barely visible in the dark corner of the gym. If he squints you look a bit like his sleep paralysis demon.

“You scared me,” he says as he takes a step back only to hit a wall.

“Funny how that happens.”

You pull out your phone, stilling standing in the dark, and let the light from your phone cast eerie shadows across your face. Donghyuck gulps audibly as he watches you type slowly in response to his text. The sound of his phone notification moments later sounds deafening in the otherwise silent space.

You (21:39) - Run.

“Look, let’s talk this out like adults.” His hands come up, palms exposed like you’re a feral animal.

“I knew you weren’t number 14,” your voice is steady and devoid of emotion as you take a step towards him.

“Then you shouldn’t have fallen for it—shit. Wait!”

He trips in his haste to get away from you and falls. You foot lands dangerously close to his face as you come to stand in over him and he grimaces.

“Please don’t kill me, I’ll do anything.”

“Why did you tell me your number was Jaehyun’s number? Make it good and maybe I’ll let you live.”

“I just felt like it.”

“What the hell!”

“I’m serious.”

“Wrong answer, Hyuck.”

With that, you wriggle a foot free from one of your sneakers and shove your socked foot over his nose. You’ve been wearing the shoes all day and, because you forgot to do laundry the night before, the socks are recycled. The sound of Donghyuck’s cries for help make you slightly better and you smile softly to yourself.

You would think that Donghyuck would have learned his lesson about not causing chaos in your life after a face-full of foot. But you should know that it’s practically his job description after knowing him for as long as you have. Sometimes you love that about him and sometimes you kind of hate him for it. This time, you hate him for it.

Donghyuck prefaces the outing as a way of apologizing for tricking you. Normally you would have been slightly more critical. The first thing to tip you off should have been the fact the “apology" in question was coming almost two and a half weeks after the fateful jersey swap accident. The second thing should have been that the “apology” was coming in the form of a trip to a very specific tea house you don’t frequent because you’re not a tea person. And Donghyuck knows this. Because he knows everything else about you. Like which sweatpants you wear when you’re feeling bloated or when you just need a hug. But mainly you should have known something was up because it was Donghyuck. When he feels like he should do something, there’s no stopping him.

“What do you want to order,” he asks while holding the front door open for you to pass through.

“A smoothie.”

“It’s a damn tea house, order something normal.”

“A smoothie is normal.”

“Do you order hot dogs at seafood restaurants too,” he pins you with a tired glare. You mirror the glare and add crossed arms.

“If they don’t have a smoothie, then I don’t want anything.”

You take a look around at the interior of the shop. It’s the polar opposite of the shops you usually frequent, which are all trendy with their mixes of dark, unfinished woodwork and sleek minimalist furniture. This place is almost cottage-like in the ornateness of the older architecture and the collection of kitschy antique pieces. You’re not surprised to see that a good deal of the patrons are older, some verging on elderly. There’s only a handful of people who look like they could be your peers. One of them looks oddly familiar. You can’t put your finger on it, but there’s something familiar about the way he stands and the delicate gold links laying across the back of his neck.

“Jaehyun,” Donghyuck calls a bit too excitedly, “Hey, man is that you? What are you doing here”

“You told me to meet you—” Donghyuck cuts him off with a dramatic gasp and a glance at his bare wrist.

“Aw, would you look at the time. I actually have somewhere to be right now, so I can’t stick around.”

“But you drove us here,” you whip your head around to look at him, but he coughs suddenly and looks away.

“Yeah, sorry. No time to drop you back off at your place, so I guess you have to figure that out yourself. Jae drives though. Maybe you can figure something out.”

Neither of you really know what to say. You watch silently with your mouth open in disbelief as Donghyuck turns on his heel and struts out of the tea shop exit, whistling contentedly. You suppose that if you’re the god of chaos reincarnated, all of this would feel like a good day’s work. You berate yourself for recently washing your socks.

“Good to see you again,” Jaehyun says after a beat. He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Thought I had scared you off after...yeah.”

“Oh, right. That.”

The air feels both too thick and too thin at the same time. You want to leave, every fiber of your being is screaming at you to leave before you do something weird in front of him again. But you can’t move. So you stand there, 3 feet away and not saying anything as Jaehyun looks over the large chalkboard menu hanging above the head of the older woman who is manning the front counter.

“What are you getting?”

“Me? Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really a tea person.”

“Well, what kind of person are you?”

Given the context, it’s a harmless question. But there’s a sing-songy lilt to the way he asks the question. It’s so blatant that curiosity gets the best of you and you stop purposefully avoiding looking at him. One of his dimples is out and he’s very nearly poking the tip of his tongue out at you, like he knows you’re suffering and he thinks it's funny. Almost like he’s flirting. Almost.

“I’m a smoothie person,” you finally say. “But there’s no smoothies on the menu.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“But doesn’t it say ‘no customizations’?”

There’s a sign on the edge of the counter that says just that. Despite the fact that it’s written in beautiful, looping cursive, there’s an ominous tone to the message. Like the little old lady behind the counter might actually make you into tea if you asked for a frappe or something. You’re a little worried for Jaehyun’s safety. He must sense some sort of hesitance because he brushes it off and gestures toward the rest of the shop.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll take care of it, you can go grab us a table.”

The way he says ‘us’ so casually has you tripping slightly over nothing. He’s somehow there in the nick of time to grab at your elbow in a gentlemanly fashion to help steady you. Perhaps you yank yourself out of his proximity a little too quickly. But it’s only because you really want to find a good table and you can’t do that if Jaehyun is distracting you by grabbing at your limbs.

In actuality, though, the tea shop is fairly vacant. There are a variety of tables with pressed white tablecloths and dainty tiered tea trays housing pastries. You pick one at random and sit down. Part of you really does wish you’d left when Donghyuck did. But the other part is curious to see what Jaehyun’s like when he’s away from his team and truly outside the context you usually find him in. So you compromise and watch as subtly as you can.

He seems fairly similar—all charming smiles and pretty hair while approaching the counter to talk with the lady you assume is the owner of the shop. She looks stern as she polishes some dainty bone china, but brightens when he comes to the counter. You watch in quiet awe as she reaches a hand up to pat fondly at the side of his face, most likely pinching a cheek from the angle you’re sitting at. You see him run a hand over the back of his neck which grows red after he says something to her that she must not like. Her brow grows heavy and her lips purse but he says something else then that has her directing her sharp gaze at you. You gulp and pretend you were merely admiring the tea sandwich tray on the table as opposed to spying. A wave of sudden embarrassment comes over you and you open up your phone to text Donghyuck

You (15:38) - this is a shit apology just so u know

You (15:38) - come get me plz

Hyuck (15:40) - sorry suddenly cant read dont know what that says :)

You place your phone face down onto the table and cross your arms with a huff. While trying to plan an escape that makes you look the least asshole-y possible, Jaehyun returns with the drinks. More specifically, he returns with a tall water glass in one hand that’s filled with a pale tea with fruit chunks and mint leaves sprinkled throughout. The other hand is encased in a floral appliqué oven mitt that holds the prettiest squat little teapot you’ve ever seen. It’s blue, so it doesn’t match the pastel green teacups organized on the tablecloth, but it’s still a lovely sight.

“What’s this,” you stir at the fruit in the glass with an elegant teaspoon.

“It’s a chilled fruit tea,” he explains while casually pouring himself a steaming cup of black tea. “I tried my hardest with Mrs. Li, but there was no way I was gonna get you a smoothie. This is the closest thing I could get.”

“You really didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I would have been fine with just a water. I don’t want to get you in trouble with the owner.”

“Don’t worry. I think my reputation is fine for now.”

It’s weirdly fascinating to watch him fix up his tea. As a member of a basketball team, you would have never thought he’d be a tea drinker. Let alone a tea drinker who takes heaping spoonfuls of sugar to go with a tiny splash of milk in his tea. He hums a little to himself as he stirs it all with a silver spoon that’s been crafted to look like roses are growing up the stem. When he looks up a moment later, he catches you staring at him. His eyes crinkle and they look like they did when he looked at you after shooting a 3 at the latest home game, full of quiet joy. Both then and now you’re not sure what the smile means or why it seems to be for you. You look down and realize his lips are moving.

“What?”

He chuckles at how far away you sound. “I said ‘how’s the tea?’”

“Oh, uh, I don’t know yet. I got distracted. I was...thinking.”

“Mhm.” There’s smugness practically oozing out of his thoughtful hum.

You take a sip to appease him and frantically search for something to say that won’t make it obvious that you aren’t a fan of tea, but then you stop yourself. It’s no smoothie, but it really is the next best thing. The tea is cold like a smoothie, providing the same reprieve from the sticky heat of Spring. The tea with all its macerated berries and mint leaves is sweet and thick much like a smoothie.

“This is amazing,” you peer down at the cup like you’re not sure where half the glass went.

A light weight lands on your shoulder then. “That’s very kind of you, dear. High praise coming from a non-tea-drinker.”

It takes a lot of effort not to scream and even then your eyes open comically wide and you jump in your seat. Jaehyun has to disguise his laughter at your reaction by turning away in his seat as you turn in yours to face the old lady who was at the counter.

“I’m sorry for any trouble you went to so you could make this, Mrs. Li, Ma’am. I told Jaehyun that I wanted a smoothie and he was just trying to make me feel comfortable.”

“Oh, I know. Jaehyun’s been coming to the shop since I opened it, so he should know all about my ban on requests.” Mrs. Li eyes Jaehyun as he takes an innocent sip of his tea. “He’s always been courteous about it, so I thought he must have a darn good reason for breaking my rule this time.”

Jaehyun’s hand slips while pouring a second cup, but he doesn’t say anything as Mrs. Li continues to expose him.

“Now, that reminds me. Jaehyun, my boy, I’m sorry to tell you that Kevin won’t be coming to his sessions this week. He has a dentist appointment and it can’t be helped,” she sighs and waves her hands.

“That’s alright. As long as he practices a little every day he should be in good shape and we can pick up right where we stopped.”

She nods and for a moment the serious expression on her face morphs into something softer. Patting the back of his chair, she looks over the table and then at you.

“Alright. I hope everything is to your liking, but if something does come up do feel free to tell Jaehyun. He’s a very capable young man and he knows the shop like the back of his hand. I’d better get back to work now. The silver won’t polish itself.”

You wait a few beats to be respectful, but as soon as Mrs. Li returns to her post behind the counter you gulp down the rest of your tea and lean in.

“Who’s Kevin?”

“Her 9 year old grandson. I teach him and his younger brother piano on the weekends.”

“Oh, that’s—that’s nice,” you nod coolly. At least, you hope it appears cool. Internally you’re scrambling.

Of course your best friend’s basketball teammate teaches piano to young kids. Of course he helps the elderly tea shop lady with her store. Of course he drinks sweet tea out of blue floral teacups. Of course.

He’s finally ready to go after a third cup. You’re not sure where he’s putting it all, but it seems to be a regular occurrence for him. He takes your glass from you before you can argue about your own ability to do it and walks back over to the counter. Now more than ever you wish you could read lips. He goes around the counter to wash the glass in the farmer’s sink in the back and then stops briefly to say something to Mrs. Li. She says something back with a smile that has his cheeks flaming. He leaves a bill on the counter and comes back mumbling about his tea being too hot when you stare at his face. You’re not sure how true that is given how fast he downed those cups.

When you emerge from the tea shop, the sun is shining from a different angle and the temperature has mellowed out.

“My car is a few blocks that way,” he points in the direction of the parking lot nearby.

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Even with his soft tone, his voice is firm and you don’t try to fight him on it.

But it’s strange walking with Jaehyun silently. It feels entirely too companionable despite the fact that you don’t even know him.

“Do you...want to play 20 questions?”

He stops in his tracks, clearly not expecting you to talk without him coaxing you out of your shell. But after the initial shock fades, he nods.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“White,” he says immediately. “What’s your major?”

“Studio art. Do you play other sports?”

“Nah. Is Donghyuck your best friend?”

“Yeah, Hyuck’s my best friend.”

“Is he...protective?”

“Protective? Of what?”

“You, I guess.”

“Hyuck?” You let out a snort because the thought is just hilarious. “On the right day I’m pretty sure he’d sell me to Satan for a fresh order of sweet potato fries.”

“I see,” he purses his lips like he’s in deep thought before returning back to the present moments later. “You get two since I asked two.”

“Do you like it here, now that it’s been a while since you transferred?”

“Yeah,” he looks you in the eyes. “I like it here.”

You swallow a bit too audibly but power through and keep asking questions. It takes nearly half an hour to walk the two and a half blocks leading to the parking lot. Even after that, Jaehyun takes a scenic route back to the main campus. When he pulls up outside your dorm, you’re not sure what to say, but it feels like something should be said. The sun is near setting and he’s haloed by the dying rays as he leans on the steering wheel to make sure you make it inside.

After giving a little awkward nod, you drag yourself out of the cabin of his car. There’s only a few steps left until you reach the door when he calls out. You turn.

“So,” he trails off, drumming his hands on the steering wheel before adjusting the mirror even though he’s in park and no one is coming. “Donghyuck has, like, a million fans.”

“What?”

“I just mean that he’s been on the team for years, he has a fan base. But I’m just a transfer student, so I don’t have that. And, you know, it’s really nice to have someone to cheer for you.” He tests the waters and looks at you hesitantly before continuing. “I still have your poster.”

All you can do is blink as you realize what’s going on. Or, you think you know what’s going on. And it makes zero sense to you, but you have a habit of overthinking things anyway. You kick at a pebble near the toe of your shoe, taking some time to muster up the courage to be presumptuous in a way you’re not used to.

“I can...I can make you another sign. If you want. Or like wear your number.” He grins and in that moment it seems to outshine the fading sun. “So you don’t feel left out.”

“I’d like that.” He starts the car up then, still grinning as he looks down to shift gears and adjust all his mirrors yet again. “Tell Hyuck he doesn’t need to set aside tickets anymore.”

“Okay,” is your witty reply before turning once more with a too warm face.

He waves at your retreating back before putting the car into drive.

Everyone on the team knows that every once in a while Donghyuck likes to come to practice a lot earlier than is probably normal. It’s not strange to come in when there’s 30, 40, even 50 minutes before practice starts and find him practicing footwork or doing layups on the court alone.

Jaehyun hedges a guess that he’ll find Donghyuck in the gym a good hour before practice starts one day and is pleased to find that his intuition was correct. There’s music blasting from a portable speaker and Donghyuck is doing some of the drills the coach likes to run, but done with his non-dominant hand.

When the ball rolls to a stop and Donghyuck moves to get some water, Jaehyun announces himself.

“Hey.”

“You quitting already?”

“Not yet,” Donghyuck takes in the serious set of Jaehyun’s jaw and shoulders. “We can do a 1-on-1. If you’re up for it.”

Jaehyun nods and sheds his outer layers on the sidelines. Donghyck wonders if he’s angry about something, perhaps that about practice a few days ago where he went a little too hard on Jaehyun and bashed his cheek with an elbow during a scrimmage. He braces himself for some incoming aggression, knowing he may deserve it a little.

They settle for leaving the ball on the ground in the paint since the equipment cabinet is still locked until the coach arrives. Both of them sprint from the freethrow line, with Jaehyun grabbing the ball first. Donghyuck moves into defense easily, having been in game mode for who knows how long. Jaehyun isn’t nearly as tough in his offense as Donghyck expected. In fact, he’s playing surprisingly light.

“What’s up with you,” Donghyuck says after the first basket.

Jaehyun catches the ball after it falls from the basket, jogging it back to the starting position. Donghyuck waits for him back at the freethrow line, brows raised but otherwise silent.

“Nothing’s up. Nothing big, I mean.”

“You’re a pretty bad liar.”

The words catch Jaehyun by surprise and he stumbles a bit coming off the line. Donghyuck uses the momentary shock to his advantage and steals the ball. The point comes easy as he basically runs a circle around his competitor.

“Since I won that point, why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”

Donghyuck doesn’t bother going back to the freethrow line and instead goes back to dribbling practice. His rhythm is slow with his off hand, but steady. Better than Jaehyun’s with his off hand.

“Do you believe in bro code?”

Donghyuck snorts. “I guess. You’re not gonna ask me for my mom’s phone number, are you?”

“No. Not your mom’s,” Jaehyun trails off.

Instantly Donghyuck knows what this is about. Or who. Your face flashes in his mind and he has to bite his own cheek to keep from laughing. Being your best friend gives him exclusive access to just how awkward you can be. But the fact that Jaehyun resorted to all this buildup is kind of hilarious.

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

“What?” Jaehyun’s cheeks grow pink. “Why is this cute?”

“Look, you don’t need to ask me first or do whatever this is. I’m not her keeper. And I’m not gonna sabotage you, either.” Jaehyun’s shoulders lose some of their squared off edge.

“Okay,” he nods. “Thanks, man.”

“I could use a favor, though.”

“Oh. What is it?”

“I have a meeting with Coach after practice today. But I also really need to pick something up at the stationery store before tomorrow. Can you go pick it up for me?”

“Sure, I guess.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details later.”

---

Jaehyun arrives at the stationery store with his phone in hand. The note from Donghyuck mentions some special set of paints with a foreign-sounding name. As he walks through the aisles of the little store, Jaehyun wonders who the paints are for. The note also mentioned that they were a gift for someone, but it doesn’t say who the someone is.

It takes a few laps around the store, and by the time he spots the little nook for the brand, the store owner's voice had already sounded through the overhead speakers to say that the shop would be closing soon. He grabs the last box left and quietly rejoices. Donghyuck had bartered your number for the price of running the errand. If Jaehyun could get the paints, then he could get the number. The odd part was that Donghyuck had mentioned something about Jaehyun possibly not even needing to ask him for the number if he played his cards right. Originally he had shrugged the comment off, but it did raise the hairs on the back of his neck a bit. There’s something about Donghyuck that feels akin to a cartoon villain, but Jaehyun can’t put his finger on it.

“Checking out?”

“Yeah,” he hands the shop attendant the container of paints.

The attendant tries to scan the barcode, but a strange sound comes from the machine.

“I think something’s wrong with the barcode. If you can wait right here, I’ll go get another one to scan and give you that one instead.”

“Oh. That was actually the last one left.”

“I see.” The attendant presses some keys on the computer before nodding. “I think we should have a reference code in that backroom. I can go get that and punch it in manually if that’s okay.”

“If it’s not too much trouble, that would be great.”

The attendant assures him it’ll only be a moment before leaving the counter and disappearing into the back of the store. Jaehyun waits patiently while leaning on the counter when the bell to the front door of the shop rings. Another customer has come in right before closing, and the sound of their labored breathing makes it clear that they know they’re cutting it close. The footsteps fade out and then grow louder once more after a few minutes. He takes a glance over his shoulder to see you standing a little bit behind him.

“Oh. Hi. H-hey.”

“Hey, yourself.” Jaehyun turns completely and sets his phone on the counter. “What brings you here?”

“I’m just grabbing some paint. I ran out a few days ago and I have some big projects coming up.”

“That’s funny. I’m doing the same thing.”

“Do you paint,” your eyes grow a little bigger with the prospect. At the sight of your small smile, Jaehyun wishes he could paint for the first time ever.

“No, but I’d like to learn.” And it’s never been true before, but he means it in that moment.

“Well, I could—”

“Sorry for the delay,” the shop attendant comes jogging back from the backroom. “Another employee had the reference book, so I had to spend some time to hunt it down. But you should be all set now.”

Jaehyun sends an apologetic smile your way before turning back to finish checking out. Once he’s done, even though he’s on a tight schedule with this favor, he hangs back.

“—I’m sorry but we sold out of the Neo Color Technology paints. If you’d like, we can give you a call when the next shipment comes in, but there’s a two-week wait.”

“Ah, really? Okay.”

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you think about what you’ll do now. The idea of continuing some of your projects with a new set of paints that could have a completely different set of hues makes you nervous. You just perfected the shade of green you needed at the base for your huge forest study. Now you’d have to start from scratch.

Jaehyun is trying his hardest not to eavesdrop, but the odd paint name catches his attention. It’s the same one he just bought, per Donghyuck’s request.

“You can have mine,” he blurts out. “I’m the one who bought the last ones. But I obviously don’t need them like you do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Please, take them.”

Jaehyun hands you the bag. The smile you offer him in return is brilliant.

“I’ll pay you back.”

“God, no. Don’t worry about it.”

“Then, let me buy you a tea or something at least.” You hand him your phone. “Here, put your number in and you can pick a day. I’ll pay.”

So Jaehyun takes your phone and inputs his number. A moment later he gets a text from you, clarifying that it’s you. He feels victorious for a moment and then confused. Here he is, getting your number without having to ask, just like Donghyuck himself had mentioned. He’s getting this number because he gave you, Donghyuck’s friend, some paints. Paints that Donghyuck asked him to buy, as a gift to a mysterious friend.

Maybe Donghyuck is less like a villain and more like a twisted fairy godmother.

This little dance you keep doing with Jaehyun is strange, to say the least.

It felt odd to copy the number 14 onto your cheek for the first time knowing who it would really be for. And it felt weird to get so used to doing it that you can now copy the stencil in with practiced ease using the face paint you bought specifically for the occasion, no longer worrying about accidentally writing it backwards. All the while, you can barely make eye contact with him after a game, although you can practically feel the weight of his gaze when you make a beeline for Donghyuck after the last buzzer rings. And you can see the way his hand tugs at the gold chain around his neck as he approaches you cautiously. And you can hear the disappointment in his tone when he asks if you’re going to the house parties thrown by one of the players that typically follow the games only to hear you say no each time.

Another few weeks later finds you trying to make it through midterms. Donghyuck being a literature major means his midterms schedule is always different from yours. This time his midterms end much earlier, a few days earlier to be exact. You’re left to suffer through late night crunches to finish up paintings for one of your crits. Photoshopping some pieces for your digital art class leaves you so busy you don’t even register what’s going on around you.

“It’s my turn to host the post-game party,” he says after letting himself into your apartment one day. He drops the spare keyring reserved for him in the dish near the front door.

“Mhm.”

“But I feel like it would be a nice change to have it here.” When he makes a big show of dropping the takeout he brought you, you don’t even flinch at the sound of it hitting the table you’ve taken over.

“Sounds good,” is all you say as you try to find the one layer out of the 25 you had that you were looking for.

“Great, so I’ll probably stop by on Friday with stuff before the game to set up and then the team can just come through afterwards.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t hate me,” he places a kiss on the top of your head before wrinkling his nose when he smells your unwashed hair. “And don’t work yourself too hard, either.”

“Yeah...definitely.”

Friday comes by and you’re still working, so you have to skip the actual game itself. In the brief window of free time you had that morning, you wonder if you should text Jaehyun again so you can tell him you won’t be coming or bringing your little hand stenciled 14. But you decide against it. It’s a big game and he doesn’t need to be bogged down by unnecessary texts.

You’re actually away at your first crit when Donghyuck stops by again, this time with party supplies. When you come back, you barely register the mountain of beers and cheap wines sitting in your kitchen. All you want to do is sleep like the dead for a few hours. As you zombie walk to your room, you swear you hear him call to you to ask if he can store his balloons in the sink. With your last two brain cells you figure he must have said something else and you were just too tired to actually comprehend it.

Hours later, bass blaring through the thin walls of your place wakes you from your slumber. The details of your conversation with Donghyuck a few days prior come flooding back just as you pick up your pepper spray to drive out what you thought were home intruders. You leave your weapon behind and open your door just slightly. The music washes over you, louder now that the seal to your bedroom has been broken.

There’s plenty of voices coming outside that accompany the music. Even a few errant screams make it inside and to your ears. Courtesy of Chenle, no doubt. A few more brave steps outside your room and a glance out of the hallway window lets you know that you didn’t mishear Donghyuck. You see several of the guys chucking water balloons at one another on the grass outside. The pile of little teardrop-shaped balloons is admirably large and it becomes clear that they’ll be doing this for a while.

You’re not in the mood to get soaked or get mosquito bites just so you can seem friendly. After all, the party is being hosted in your apartment complex. That’s friendly enough, you reason. Once you’ve done a quick sweep through the rest of the apartment to make sure nothing is stolen, stained, or broken, you return to your room to get ready for bed properly. It takes a while because you have to wash your hair on top of everything else after receiving a very strongly worded text from Donghyuck.

While in your bathroom, brushing your teeth and watching a video Taeyong sent you, there’s jumbled knocking on your door. Barely any time passes between the last knock and the creak of someone leaning on your door as they open it. You curse to yourself before spitting in the sink.

“Hey, the bathroom for guests is actually—”

Jaehyun stands in the middle of your room, squinting at the tapestry you have hanging over your bed. The sound of his teeth chattering despite it being the peak of Spring is actually alarming enough to stop you from being mad that Donghuck didn’t think to put a clear sign towards the bathroom for the general public.

“I always thought your room would have candles in it,” Jaehyun drawls. He looks around once more like he’s hoping a candle will jump out of a hiding spot. All his movements are slow and sleepy.

“Are you drunk?”

He grins with eyes that droop closed. “Yep.”

“Great,” you mumble. When you take a step closer you realize the dark red sleeveless tank he’s wearing is actually dark from being saturated with water. “Why are you wet?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. We played water balloon tag. I lost the last round.”

Jaehyun places a clumsy finger to his lips and stage-whispers a loud “shh”. For some reason you mirror that back to him. He nods, satisfied with your reaction.

“Don’t tell the others, but I...” he hiccups “I got cold, so I came inside.”

“What’s wrong with telling them you’re cold.” He hangs his head in shame then. Clearly you’re missing something important.

“Hyuck says bad bitches never get cold.”

With his shoulders slumped forward in such a pitiful fashion, you actually feel bad for wanting to laugh. It’s surprising. Super surprising actually, considering Jaehyun’s presence in your room means Donghyuck forgot to do the one thing you ask of him when he hosts parties at your place—put clear signs for drunk people to follow to the guest bathroom. You usually don’t want to deal with drunk student athletes, but something about Jaehyun makes him exempt from that.

“You can warm up here.”

As soon as you say the words, you cringe. It sounds like the awful beginnings of a bad porno, but your intentions really are pure. There’s something too sad about watching him nearly doze off while standing up like a newborn colt. So you go and find the best hoodie that you have in your clean laundry and you risk going to the kitchen and getting hit with a runaway water balloon so you can put water on for tea. Hopefully it will warm him up while also sobering him up a little.

“Is this Hyuck’s shirt,” he asks as soon as you return with a steaming mug.

“Uh, I think so.” You take a moment to appraise the hoodie. “Yeah, it’s his. It’s from one of his basketball camps from when we were younger, I think.”

He purses his lips but gratefully takes the mug with swaying hands. After taking a large sip, he hums and lets his head loll back with a smile.

“This is Mrs. Li’s blend.”

“Yeah.”

It doesn’t seem right to tell him that you’ve been back there a couple times now and have started trying to get into tea. You take the time to put some distance between him and you. You walk to your bed and fluff a pillow that doesn’t need fluffing. The thing is that Jaehyun being in your room feels...weird. He looks all too content and comfortable in the space. That’s not to say he doesn’t suit the environment well. Somehow he looks like he belongs in your room with his soaked tank top and damp hair. You fluff the pillow harder.

“You must be tired,” he says after a long silence. He’s finished his tea but his eyes are still glassy.

“What?”

“Donghyuck told me ‘bout all your projects. Told me you had to draw him for one.”

“Oh, yeah I did. People actually loved that piece the most. But it took me the shortest amount of time.”

“Next time,” he begins ambling across the room, coming to place the empty mug on your bedside table. “Next time, you can ask me to model. If you want.”

“I mean, I only asked Hyuck since he was watching TV and he was there. Plus I know his face so well that it doesn’t even matter if he talks while I paint. The company is kind of nice.”

“Well, you can do it with me next.”

He’s drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t realize how strange what he’s saying is. And yet, your face still heats up. The sound of his teeth chattering lightly again reminds you how he got to be in your room in the first place. Jaehyun hugs himself as he continues to check out your room with a small smile on his face. He looks content.

“Do you want to get in,” you offer before your brain can process what your mouth has just done. His eyes go wide.

“Excuse me?”

“Not—I mean, you just...look really cold and tired. Plus I heard you guys lost the game tonight, so the coach had you hauling ass after.” At the sight of his mildly amused face, tongue nudged between his teeth you add, “I don’t mean you should stay the night. It could just be for a bit and then you could, like, get up and call a cab home. But I get it if you’d rather not. Actually, I can just go see if Hyuck is around. I think he brought his—”

“No, no, stay,” he replies quickly to keep you from jumping out of bed. “I could use the rest.”

He turns around to shrug off the wet tank and pull on the hoodie, mumbling something about ‘not wanting to get your sheets wet’. Internally you wonder if you’re being laughed at by the gods while staring politely at nothing in the other corner of the room. You scoot over from your position in the middle of the bed to the side opposite him. He rewards your kindness with a flash of a bright smile before moving to pull back the covers.

His face lands directly in one of your pillows and you panic when you realize your sheets aren’t fresh out the washer. Jaehyun doesn’t seem to mind and lets out a sigh before shivering a little. With the hood over his hair, you can barely make out his eyes but you can tell they’re trained on you.

“You sure this is okay,” he whispers.

“Yeah.”

The bed shifts minutely as he turns a little to get more comfortable. It feels hot in the bed all of the sudden. Despite the fact that you have on weather appropriate pajamas and your most lightweight Spring bedding on. Despite the fact that you’re not laying close enough to him to be able to feel any body heat. Maybe it’s warmer outside than you thought. That’s probably it.

---

When you wake up several hours later, it’s to the sound of clanking in your living room. The other side of the bed is empty and you try not to read into it. It wasn’t supposed to be a full night over, after all. You swing your feet over the edge of the bed only to squeal when your foot hits something cold in the little rug you keep there.

“What is it!” Donghyuck crashes into the room while holding the trash bag he was collecting loose beer cans with. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just—oh.”

You look down at the rug and see something shiny and metallic as opposed to something wet and slimy. With your index finger and thumb, you pick up a medium length golden chain. It shines even in the low lighting of your bedroom. You both squint at the jewelry, trying to place it.

Donghyuck’s eye grow wide and he looks around the room in disgust suddenly.

“Was he in here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you grumble as you rub your eyes.

“What for?”

When Donghyuck raises an inquisitive eyebrow, your mouth drops open.

“We just slept—”

“You slept together?”

“Hyuck, not like that! What’s your problem?”

“Still, why is he sleeping in here? You never have guys sleep in here.”

“You sleep in here all the time,” you point a finger at him.

“True,” he cedes immediately, pointing a finger back. “Well, you better return that. I think it’s his lucky charm or something.”

“Can’t you do it?” He laughs before returning to the living room.

“He didn’t leave it in my bed.”

“I–fine. I don’t need your help anyway.”

At that, he snorts.

“You do, but I’ll let you keep thinking that you don’t, because I’m a good friend.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are.”

You pull on a sweater before coming out of your room with your phone in hand. There’s a companionable silence that falls over you two as you attempt to draft a text to Jaehyun about his chain while Donghyuck picks up the remaining trash from the party.

“How’d everything go,” you ask once the message is sent.

“It was fine. Jae was so gone that we thought he had flushed himself down the toilet for a while. But I guess that’s not what happened.”

Your face heats up at the teasing tone he uses.

“Hyuck, I have something to tell you.”

“God, what? Are you pregnant?”

“No! What the hell? Are you?” You try to swipe at his butt from the back of the couch.

“No! But...can you just say what you’re gonna say? You’re making me nervous.”

He even goes so far as to put the trash down and come around to sit with you on the sofa. You take a deep breath.

“I have a crush on Jaehyun. I just thought you should know.”

He stares at you, not blinking for a few seconds. He opens his mouth and then shakes his head to himself and closes it again.

“I see,” he finally says.

“It’s been going on a while, and I didn’t want to leave you in the dark.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Nope! I don’t mind being in the shadows. I do some of my best work there.”

“Do you think it could go anywhere?”

“What do you mean,” he throws another can into his bag.

“Like, do you think I have a chance with him?”

Donghyuck turns to stare at you, deadpan. “Do I think you have a chance with Jung Jaehyun? The man who slept in your bed a few hours ago?”

“Yeah.” Your face is completely open and imploring.

He sighs, “I think you might have a shot, sure.”

“Why, though?”

“I don’t know. Just a hunch.”

The next game of the season is a big one. The team coming in to play is an old school rival, so it draws a crowd that contains even the less sport-inclined students. You manage to get a ticket set away, but it’s still tough trying to find a spot to sit. It’s first come first serve with seats since the gym isn’t big enough to have labeled arena seating.

Initially you had planned to use the extra time you had before the start to return Jaehyun’s chain, but it took you so long to make it from the parking lot to the gym and then to an open seat that there wasn’t any time left. Somewhere in between, you nearly get knocked over by the heavy current of fans from both teams flooding the space. The chain, once clutched in your hand, ends up around your neck out of fear that you lose it permanently.

You end up in the nosebleeds for the rest of the time. The players look like ants and if it weren’t for the large printed numbers on their jerseys, you might not be able to tell all of them apart. You text Donghyuck your location, and you see him looking towards the back rows at the beginning of the game, but he has to stay focused. You try your hardest to focus as well. At this point, you’re just about fluent in the sport that is basketball. But tonight’s game is hard to follow despite this. Jaehyun grabs your attention instead. He plays especially rough tonight, you note. He pushes hard across the court, even gets a couple warnings for defending like he’s on offense. There’s a fair amount of goals with his name on them as well. It’s exciting and you just wish your cheers could reach him.

More annoyance comes when the game finally ends. It’s a last minute shot by one of the other players who walked on this season that tips the game in your school’s favor. The crowd is deafening, even the ending buzzer is muted by their shouts. The bleachers shake under you with the force of fans running to meet their favorite players and generally gloat in front of the other team on the court. The shaking underneath you is terrifying enough to keep you seated until things have died down. There’s still probably a minimum of hundred people gathered on the floor, but you can at least step over empty concession bags as opposed to being stepped on by the supportive members of the hockey team.

It takes forever to find a single person you know. Of course it’s Donghyuck, who is in the middle of talking with some friends from off the team.

“Hyuck,” you begin to run over. When he sees you, you give him a big smile.

“No,” he responds simply as you get closer.

You slow down and let confusion wrinkle your brow. He offers no further verbal explanation but does give you a swift head nod in another direction. You follow the gesture and find Jaehyun at the end of the path. He looks a bit lost despite being with Doyoung and Johnny.

The fact that the others are there makes you freeze up at first, but the feeling of the chain laying delicately on your clavicle reminds you of what you need to do. Luckily, he sees you before the others do and he steps aside under the guise of getting a fresh towel. He waits for you to catch up once he’s out of their line of sight.

His voice is low, like he’s worried being too loud will make you change your mind about talking with him. But there’s an undercurrent of sincere happiness.

“There you are.”

“I was at the top row. I got here too late to sit where I normally do.”

“Ah. I thought maybe you couldn’t make it.”

“There’s no way I would be able to miss this one. Hyuck threatened to shave my head if I did.”

“That...sounds like him.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle. The nerves are getting to you a bit. You’ve never confessed your feelings to anyone before, and you’re not sure if Donghyuck was right about you having a shot.

“So, what are you doing—”

“I’ve been meaning to tell—”

You both start talking at once and then immediately clam up when you interrupt each other.

He gives the floor to you. “You go first.”

“Okay.”

You reach for the back of your neck and watch as his gaze follows the movement of your hands only for his eyes to light up in recognition.

“I wondered where that thing went.”

“You left it at my place. I put it on because I was scared I’d lose it for real. Sorry.”

He reaches out casually to thumb at the chain around your neck. “Don’t be. It looks good on you.”

“It looks better on you.”

The chain slides off cool against your skin and your fingers shake as you carry the chain over to him. Wordlessly, you reach up and loop your arms around his neck to reunite the chain with its rightful owner. Sweaty palms make it difficult to redo the clasp without being able to see it. It puts you right in his personal space for an awkwardly long time.

“I’m really sweaty,” he whispers.

“Uh, that’s nice?”

He laughs and it puffs off your temple.

“I don’t want to get you dirty, but I really want to kiss you right now.” The clasp finally snaps into place

“Oh.”

The way he leans in, the way his arms come to cage around your waist, the drip of the sweat from his temple down the hinge of his jaw. All of it is slow. As if to give you the space to withdraw if you wanted. But you surge forward into him. And for once it’s not awkward. You don’t know how long you stand there necking like hormonal high schoolers in a sea of people on the gym floor at a school dance, but—just like at the school dance—someone is bursting the gossamer thin ambiance just when Jaehyun’s fingers graze the back pocket of your jeans.

“If you look to your left, boys and girls, you can see two local horndogs engaged in a seasonal ritual” He karate chops a hand down the space between your faces, cutting the kiss off abruptly and nearly bruising Jaehyun’s nose. Meanwhile Taeyong snickers loudly from behind Doyoung.

“Do you have a death wish,” you turn to him with fire in your eyes. He backs up slightly, but attempts to stand his ground.

“Do you know how hard I’ve been working to set you two up?”

“What are you talking about?”

You turn to Jaehyun, who looks just as confused. The gears turning in your heads are practically visible as you and he put 2 and 2 together slowly. The random lies, the weird errands, the sudden party. The blank stares from Donghyuck every time the two of you were in the same room but refused to talk. It all adds up.

“You owe me sweet potato fries for the rest of your life. Maybe longer, I’m not sure yet.”

Donghyuck puts his arms around you and Jaehyun, pulling you with him as he heads out of the gym and towards the exit that leads toward the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe you...puppet-mastered us,” Jaehyun’s voice is airy with disbelief.

“I can’t believe you guys didn’t realize what was going on,” Taeyong snickers on the walk over. Doyoung snorts while lacing their fingers together.

“Yeah, the whole team was in on it.”

“You guys are one to talk.” Donghyuck turns back to give the two boys a humbling once over. “Don’t get me started on how hard it was to get you two losers together.”

Doyoung stops in his tracks, nearly tripping Taeyong in the process.

“What?”

#nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagines #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagines

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beauvibaby · 4 years

Text

wrong - t.seguin

a/n: this gif has no correlation to the story but it made me smile so

summary: you and Tyler have your first big fight

You were happily working in your own little bubble, occasionally petting Marshall’s head as he nudged your knees. You were sitting on Tyler’s bed, your laptop on your legs as you edited the photos you had just taken, proud of yourself for finally starting to get your own little photography business off the ground, of course you had help from Tyler, but you never asked, he always offered and after being together for over a year you decided you both were stable enough to allow him to help. Never financially though, you refused to let him do that, but here or there he’d mention your name to some people, or post a picture that you had taken, the little things. You heard the front door open and shut, followed by the dogs rushing down the hallway, nearly sliding into each other as they rushed to greet Tyler. “Hey, hey guys.” He cheered, lightly cooing down to the dogs, you didn’t have to see him to know there was a smile on his face. You slid your laptop to the side. Your feet lightly slapping against the hard floors as you made your way to see Tyler, “hey, babe.” You mumbled, he glanced over, smiling softly. The summer was quickly wrapping up and it was time for his training to really step up a notch, and you knew that would mean less time together, you’d been through it once before and you knew when the season started it would also be even harder, with away games and interviews and practice on top of practice. You were prepared for that, both of you were, but you weren’t prepared for how his attitude would start to change over the coming months.

“Hey.” He sighed in return, walking over and kissing you quickly, you hid the small frown at his greeting, normally it was more enthusiastic but you could tell he looked a little tired, a little stressed, so you brushed it off. “You look nice.” You complimented, you knew he had just finished some interviews, hence the reason he was in a button up instead of his usual shirt or hoodie. “Thank you, baby.” He responded, continuing his walk to the bedroom, the dogs following him happily, you in turn, followed them, hoping his mood would turn around once he got a good shower and some rest. “I’m taking a shower.” He paused in the doorway, some of his usual spunk returning, “care to join me?” He teased, smirking at you. Normally you would humor him, although nine times out of ten nothing actually happened in the shower, it was what the showed led to. “I would, but I really need to finish editing these pictures, there was a miscommunication and she needs them sooner than I thought.” You explained, pouting at him. “Alright.” He shrugged it off, shooting you a small smile, you sighed and climbed back into your spot on the bed, quickly getting back to work, only to find yourself angry when you unlocked the laptop to see that it hadn’t saved the editing you’d already done and now you had to start all over. “Damn it!” You groaned, sloppily tying your hair back, annoyance running through you, quickly, you started trying to get caught up, but it just wasn’t the same and you were growing frustrated with how different it was looking than before.

Tyler walked back out of the bathroom, hair a little damp as he shrugged a shirt on, you glanced up at him with tired eyes, “you alright?” He asked, seeing the look on your face. “No, my stupid computer didn’t save anything I had already done, I’m going to be up late trying to finish.” You explained, beginning to move off the bed, “I’ll go work in the living room, I know you have to get up early tomorrow.” You added, seeing the time, it wasn’t that late, but you did in fact know he had to be up extremely early for training tomorrow. “No, you can stay.” He assured you, sitting beside you, “it’s fine, I’d rather know you’re in here working.” He pulled you in for a kiss, silently making up for his slight attitude earlier. “Are you sure?” You questioned, not wanting him to hold it against you. Tyler shimmied down the bed, his head resting on the pillow as he lazily draped an arm over your legs. “I’m sure.” He mumbled, sleepily watching you, occasionally he’d ask a question, you’d give him an answer that would make him laugh, “that makes no sense”. Eventually you could tell he’d fallen asleep beside you, and you smiled down at him, leaning over to kiss his head, he moved a little but didn’t budge, only rolling into you a little more as you continued away.

***

That’s how most nights went, for a while, occasionally you’d be able to get everything edited before Tyler was home, but most nights you’d just started when he got home, most of the people you did photos for wanted them at sunset. You’d been able to start scheduling things a bit better and have more time with Tyler but now as his schedule started to change with the season starting, you could tell he was getting overwhelmed, and quite honestly a little snippy towards you. They had just completed the third game of the season, and they lost, which was never a good thing but he was taking it particularly hard. “Are you almost done?” He snapped, impatiently watching the tv as you finished up your work, you turned to him slowly, raising your brows. “Yes?” You responded, it came out slightly like a question at his sudden attitude. “You’re always on that damn computer.” He grumbled, watching as you turned it off, setting it aside. You sat up from your spot on the couch, looking at him, “I’m sorry, I’m working.” You responded, knowing your words were only going to egg him on. This time he looked at you, “you’re never here anymore, like really here.” He deadpanned. You scoffed at his words, “I’m here, I’m always here, you’re the one who comes home and puts hockey highlights on, trying to figure out what you could’ve done better.” You snapped, not meaning too, but it was too late now as he raised his eyebrows. “That’s my job, Y/N. I need to keep getting better.” He snapped, standing up, you followed, shaking your head, “and that’s mine!” You pointed to the computer. “You’re not the only one who works.” You added with a pointed voice. He rolled his eyes, and the words he said nearly knocked all the air out of your lungs.

“Oh right I’m sorry, because taking pictures is how we’re paying for our life right?” He hissed and the second he met your eyes he realized what he said, “you ass.” You whispered, he started shaking his head. “No, no, you know I didn’t mean that!” He panicked, which on some level made you feel better because you knew he didn’t entirely mean it, but if he said it, surely he’s thought it, or heard it from other people. “I can’t do it? Is that what you’re saying?!” You let the emotion overcome you, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You supported me, you didn’t have to, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to talk down to me like this when I refused to take your help for more than a year of you asking!” You snapped, he fell silent, lips pursed together as he watched you. When he didn’t say anything you shook your head, gathering your things that were scattered around the living room. “What are you doing?” He asked, not moving, you rolled your eyes, feeling the tears run down your face. “I’m going to stay in the guest room tonight, or until you realize how much your words fucking hurt.” You whispered, “baby, don’t cry.” Tyler finally showed some remorse, but you refused to turn to putty again, “no, Tyler. I can’t believe you would say that, and I know I said something‘s I shouldn’t have either, but I would never put down your career choice.” And with that, you did the one thing your mother always told you not to do, you both went to bed angry with each other.

***

Tyler has another game today, and you were already supposed to be going, but when you woke up in the morning he was already gone, all you had was a text that said good morning. Your mind raced with the thoughts of last night, the words you exchanged, the lack of I love you’s. It killed you, and you felt the anxiety rising in your chest, what if this was the end, what if- your phone ringing cut off the thoughts running through your head. You saw Jamie’s name on the screen and immediately panicked, did something happen? “Hello?” You rushed, and Jamie sighed, “I don’t know what the hell happened between you two, but Tyler is like a fucking zombie.” He explained and you felt a little relieved, as horrible as it sounds, but at least you knew he couldn’t rest well after last night either. “I’ll be at the game, I’m sorry if he’s an ass today, we-it was a nasty fight.” You stammered out, biting the corner of your mouth as Jamie sighed, you could picture the way he ran his hand over his face whenever he was stressed, “it’s fine, just work it out, okay? Tyler isn’t the best without you.” Is all he responded with, you both said a quick goodbye and you rushed to your feet, going to get ready.

You took an unbelievably hot shower, wanting to feel as clean as possible, which no amount of water could do as you felt bad to your heart for how things went. You blew dry your hair, putting on some simple makeup, and your signature game day outfit. Skinny jeans and a Seguin jersey of course.

This was the most nerve wracking you’ve ever felt going to a game, simply because you haven’t seen him since last night. You made your way to the seats, and every time Tyler skated by, even during warmups, he didn’t look over, like he thought you wouldn’t be there.

It felt like forever and a day, but finally, finally he looked up and you could see the shock on his face when he met your eyes. You were right beside the glass, like always, you simply smiled at him, and both of your worries seemed to ease up. That was until you were watching him play and he got barreled into the wall. You shot to your feet, nothing but panic filling you when he took longer than usual to get up. When he took longer than this to get up, you knew it wasn’t good, Jamie skated over, helping Tyler to his feet, Tyler’s eyes were squeezed shut in pain, his head hanging a little low as he made his way off the ice. He disappeared down the tunnel, and you anxiously waited to hear them say he wasn’t returning, but it never happened. You looked over and saw him walking back out, sitting with the other guys on the bench like it never happened. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding in. He glanced over at you at one point, giving you a soft smile, it didn’t quite meet his eyes. And you couldn’t help but hope that was only because he felt guilty about last night.

Katie gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder as you anxiously bounced your foot against the cement floor outside the locker rooms, “it’s ok, it was your first big fight, it happens.” She tried to calm you but you only grew more worried when Jamie came out and Tyler wasn’t right behind him. “He’s alright, just a little banged up.” Jamie spoke, wrapping an arm around Katie, you nodded, “thanks.” You whispered, eyes shooting up when you heard Tyler’s voice. He appeared around the corner a second later, instantly taking three big steps towards you. Before you had time to react he had you pulled against his chest, Jamie and Katie walking off to give you some privacy. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot, I can’t believe I said that.” He rushed his words, you nodded staying silent, processing what he said. “If you said it, you had to have thought it before.” You stood your ground, slightly pulling away from him. He shook his head instantly, “no, I was reading stupid comments and someone said that and it just pissed me off, it just came out.” He assured you and continued speaking when you blankly stared at him. “Listen to me, I love you, I love taking care of you and I know you don’t need me too, because you could so easily become the best photographer in Dallas,” he paused to wink, sighing in relief when you cracked a smile. “But I want to take care of us, take care of the dogs, take care of whatever little Seguin’s we have running around in a few years. If you’ll let me?” He concluded, growing confused when you looked away with tears in your eyes. “Y/N-“ “I love you.” You cut him off, all but yanking him in for a kiss, he laughed against your lips, before reciprocating the action. “I love you too.” He mumbled against you. “How many little Seguin’s?” You teased when you pulled away and he threw his head back in laughter, “as many as we can handle.” “That’s a good answer.”

Taglist: @literarycharleton @thathockeygirl

#imagine #imagines #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #nhl dallas stars #nhl wiriting #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #tyler seguin fluff

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wonnoy · 3 years

Text

let's go together

i'm doing it - i'm writing a sugawara fic FINALLY omg i don't see many of them on the internet sadly so oooo we gonna fix that :)

___

you two accidentally bumped into one another at the thrift store of Ukai's store and buying the essentials for a female's period

warnings: none but fluff here and maybe a surprise kiss at the end if you've been good ;)

Oh god.

When you bumped into someone else in the tiny store, your pads and tampons flew from your hands in a grand array of a feminine hygiene rainbow. Your face heated as the young man froze with surprise before rapidly dropping to the floor with a nervous smile on his face. You dropped as well grabbing the pads first because you got the biggest size pad that you had to offer and really didn't want for him to see that. Oh god.

Standing up and cuddling into your arms was three boxes of pads and in the stranger's arms was two boxes of tampons. You were stockpiling okay?

"I- I'm so sorry," the words came choked out as you were already thoroughly embarrassed by the situation.

"It's really no problem, but are you alright," he smiled at you and handed over to you the two boxes of tampons he picked up. You noticed in his own hands he had a large grocery bag filled with energy drinks and other things of that nature.

"Yes I'm alright, and thank you," you hurriedly scattered from the area, checked out, and made your way out of the store. If only you were paying more attention to the things in front of you and instead of your phone... And speaking of your phone! You held your bag of feminine products in your left hand while your right went to grab your phone from out of the pocket.

It was almost time for your school's volleyball game!

You skittered through the streets, nearly getting lost a couple of times before finally making it to the entrance of Karasuno. Next to the entrance was the gym and you could hear faintly soft cheers and the sound of volleyballs hitting against either the floor or another person. Did the game already start?

"Oh hey!" a voice came from behind you and you turned. With embarrassed horror, it was the man from the store. He was now dressed in a tracksuit with the lettering 'Karasuno' on it. He goes here? Does that mean he's-

"Are here for Nekoma?" he stopped next to you at the entrance smiling. He was trying to calm you down, it really was no issue when you ran into him at the store, it happens.

You nodded your head, "are you on Karasuno's volleyball team?"

"Yup, do you want a walking buddy to the gym?" he pointed to the big gray building maybe 200 feet away from you. He asked if you wanted a walking buddy, really? You had to stifle a chuckle as he realized how dumb that sounded.

Walk you to the gym that's literally right in front of you? Could he be any less smooth? You looked cute all frazzled in the store, panicking for some unknown reason. He really wanted to calm you down and not make it such a big deal, he knew he'd get a second chance to do that. You were wearing the Nekoma uniform and you seemed too panicked to not notice him wearing a Karasuno tracksuit.

He thought he'd try again when he'd see you at the school entrance.

"Oh well um okay, lets go together then," you gave him a nervous smile feeling the butterflies in your stomach. He was kinda cute, "what's your name?" you asked.

"Sugawara Koshi, yourself?"

"It's-" you were cut off from a loud shout from the gym directed towards you.

"Oi, (y/n)! What's been taking you so long?" Yamamoto came out of the gym. He'd been looking for you for the past ten minutes because they were in desperate need of their manager. You jumped at the voice, not quite expecting for someone else to shout your name for you and turned towards Sugawara.

He looked shocked himself, "(l/n)?"

"It's fine to just call me (y/n)," you smiled and began to walk over to the loud boy. He was waving you over frantically so you broke into a light job with the bag of feminine products swinging from your arm.

Sugawara watched your retreating form with peaked interest. Cute girl on the enemy team - enemies to lovers was a thing right? he began to walk over himself as if he didn't there would be hell to pay for. When he entered the gym, you were sat on the opposite side of the gym next to Nekoma's volleyball team.

You were sitting next to the coach, with a mini clipboard in hand and nodding your head as if talking about different techniques.

"Sugawara," he turned his head and saw Daichi calling him over. Time for warmup's was almost over and Sugawara barely warmed up before making an emergency run to a convenience store - and running into you. He looked over at you, you were now sitting down on the bench. You really were cute.

He jogged over to Daichi as the team gathered before their match. As per usual, Sugawara barely played in this match, but it was fine for him all the same. Seeing his team just barely hanging on a thread as both sides tried to gain the break in the points so they could the final and third match. He found himself participating in doing different poses with his team as they became their own cheer squad.

A whistle sounded through the air and he looked over to Nekoma's side. The coach called a break and you were standing right next to him. He watched as the team crowded around you and you move your hands around as if to mimic something. Were you giving them pointers?

He turned his head back to his own team, Ukai was speaking something about putting Hinata in the back and making sure Tsukishima was watching Kenma. The time for the break was over as quickly as it was called and both teams settled back onto the court.

You were watching intently from the sideline, you didn't always voice your insight about matches as tense as this one as you weren't sure if it was correct. But the boys seemed to trust your intuition and occasional tactics - Kenma was always able to immediately take into account of what you said. That really brought up your confidence.

Throughout the entire game, Kenma had not once done a setter's dump - and now was the chance to do it. As he dumped the ball, Nishinoya dived to get it but missed it and Nekoma won.

___

You were standing at the Gym entrance waiting for the rest of your school to finish leaving the stands. Sugawara took this chance to come up and say hi to you.

"That was your suggestion wasn't it?" you turned around to see Sugawara come and join you at the entrance.

"Maybe," you smiled and looked down at your shoes.

"It was clever, you should've heard Hinata after you did it," he laughed and glanced over at you. You were still looking down at your shoes, embarrassed by the sudden praise from someone on the opposite team. Wasn't he supposed to dislike you and not congratulate you?

It was silent between you two before Sugawara broke it, "are you busy right now?"

You looked at the bus getting ready to leave, the one that brought you here, and looked back at the boy smiling at you. You could always take another bus home but you don't think you could get another opportunity like this. Well, at least with no one who genuinley intrigued you.

You shook your head no.

"Then come with me, there's a really pretty park not too far away from here," he hesitantly grabbed your hand and started to lead you away from the gym. Taketora watched Sugawara drag away their manager as soon as he was about to call out your name again. But it didn't look like you'd be able to hear him anyways - your attention was all on the Karasuno setter.

___

It was night time, pretty close to 8 PM and you were certain that you never wanted to leave. It was one of those times that you just never wanted to end - for it to last forever. His laughing echoing into the night and the lights from street lamps shining against him, he looked truly like a prince. He was still in his Karasuno tracksuit and sitting on the bench at the park he mentioned with you right next to him. You guys stopped at the same convenience store to buy some snacks, making this semi-date a picnic.

Actually you weren't sure if this was a date, he never really said it was date. He just asked you to hangout, nothing specific. Your gut twisted, you definitely had a brewing crush on the male. But what about him? There was no romantic intent he was giving off, no hand holding or compliments, only jokes and smiles.

You laid your back against the the support of the bench you sat on, conflicted. You tried your best not to show it as the man next to you kept cracking jokes and you would half-heartedly laugh along with him. There was a small bag that was once filled with all sorts of treats and drinks. It was near empty now and it resided underneath your legs. Its been a couple hours since you two have been sitting here, not that you mind but you still have to be wary of being able to catch the bus before the last one pulls off.

Sugawara was having quite literally the time of his life as he sat next to you. You were endearing and he could tell you were listening intently to everything he said which made me swell with the upmost importance. You made him feel important despite knowing you for only a short amount of time - he felt as if he could never tire of your company. He had to get to know you more.

Your head rested against the back of the bench, the harsh and soft glows of the streetlights illuminated your face as you laid there. Sugawara looked over at you. A soft smile played on your lips, eyes closed in content, and a sweet laughter escaping your body. It trembled your body in the best of ways and he just couldn't look away from you.

"Well, what time do you have to go?" he tore his eyes away from you. You lazily peered down at your phone screen and saw it was 9 PM at night and you sat up quickly. It alerted Sugawara and he watched you with worried eyes.

"We have to run, where's the nearest station?" you jumped off the bench and waited for him to do the same. He looked at you blankly before smiling and jumping up as well. He grabbed your hand into his own before rapidly pulling you in one direction.

"Well then lets run!"

After 10 minutes of a sort of jog/sprint, you made it the bus station completely out of breath. You were definitely not in as good as shape as him as he seemed to not even be heaving by the time you guys made it. His hand was still clutching yours desperately, he really didn't want to let you go.

"I can't believe, huff, that we made it!" you could tell you were slightly sweaty. You were running in your school flats, jumping and leaping over small holes on the pathway - it sure as hell wasn't easy.

"With time to spare!" he smiled and helped you to sit on the bench underneath the roof of the bus station. You were gasping for air and Sugawara grabbed the last tea from the bag and handed it to you. You shook your head and pushed it away, what if he wanted it?

He sighed, "if you say so,"

"I'm good, see?" you gave a beaming smile his way and did his heart just stopped? Is he suffering a heart attack from the overwhelming cuteness?

The bus rolled to a stop in front of you two and he helped you back up off the seat and to the bus's doors. He held your hand in his again, tight again. He held you back right as the doors opened.

"Where do you live?" and you tell him. Sugawara's eyes widened with happiness and surprise, "I don't live too far from there!"

You smiled, perfect. You got up and gave him a slight peck on the cheek, "then let's go together."

[][][

jesus i did not expect for that sweet of an ending my teeth are rotting. this seems like a dream tho

#sugawara koushi #sugawara x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu!!#fluff

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null-whump · 4 years

Text

It’s whumptober baby

I’m so excited for this you guys don’t even know

Warnings: Restraints, stabbing/cutting, knives, whump on a character who appears to be a minor but is not actually a minor (Felix is called ‘kid’ by other characters)

Word Count: 1,900

Whumptober Prompt – Waking up Restrained

––––––––––––––––

The first thing I noticed was the cold, and the wind. Then, as I slowly became more aware of my surroundings, the coarse ropes around my wrists, and a hard, rough surface against my back. I forced my eyes open, blinking away the heaviness of sleep that lingered unnaturally on my mind. My vision was blurry, but I could make out trees, a flickering light, and – people. Four of them, moving indistinctively. I pulled at my wrists, craning my neck in an attempt to see the bindings. I was tied, standing upright, against a tree, my arms pulled behind me. I realized I could hear the people speaking, arguing, it sounded like.

Four people, and I knew one thing for certain – Varren was not among them. I wouldn’t put it past him to tie me to a tree in the middle of the night, but he was gone. Away on a three-day trip, alone. So where was I, and how did I get here?

“Hey, jackasses, he’s awake.”

Great. He sounded friendly. My vision slowly started to clear, enough to see two of the figures approaching. One of them grabbed my hair and roughly pulled my head up, knocking it against the tree in the process.

“You said he would stay out for longer,” the first figure, man, said, glaring accusingly at the second figure, who was holding my hair – a woman, I could tell now, with brown skin and long black hair.

“I said that it would last six to twelve hours. Besides, he looks pretty out of it.” She turned her attention to me and waved her hand in front of my face.

I flinched back, as much as the hand in my hair would allow, and the woman laughed.

“Jumpy, are you?” She teased. “That’ll make this more fun.”

The man glared at her back. “You’re not here for fun,” he emphasized. “You’re here as hired help.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy it,” she shot back, releasing her grip on my hair. “How else are you planning to get anything good out of him?”

I looked between the two of them, taking stock of their appearance now that my vision was nearly back. The man was tall and muscular, with short blond hair and a scar down the left side of his face. The woman was shorter, and a maliciously eager light danced in her eyes. It reminded me of Varren. I hated it.

“Would you two shut up?” A third voice, a woman, interjected. “The cat has ears, you know.”

The woman rolled her eyes and turned away. The man hesitated, glancing me over once more before following. I looked to where the third voice had come from and identified another man and woman sitting by a fire. Four of them, one of me. Not great odds.

I considered my options. On the one hand, did I really want to escape? Whoever these people were, and whatever their intentions were for kidnapping me, they must dislike Varren, and that was enough for me to have some good feelings towards them. Even if they had knocked me out and tied me to a tree. Maybe I could even help them.

On the other hand, all it would take for Varren to realize what had happened was a quick check inside my head, something that was all too easy and that he enjoyed doing when I least expected it. And when he found out I had even considered helping these people, whoever they were…I shuddered.

“Enough arguing!”

My attention was pulled back to the group as the second woman, tall with blonde hair, shoved past the others and towards me.

“We’re on a time limit,” she said to her companions. “If we want to get this done, we need to start.”

The blond man looked away; his mouth set in a hard line. The second man, a shorter figure with brown hair and the beginnings of a beard, stood from his place by the fire. “Tali’s right,” he said to the blond. “You don’t have to like it.”

He approached me alongside the blonde woman, Tali. The dark-haired woman hung back, an unsettling grin on her face. I found myself shrinking back, but with the tree behind me, I didn’t have anywhere to go.

“We’re not going to hurt you unless we have to,” the man said, as if that was supposed to be comforting. “Give us what we need, and we’ll all be happy.”

I decided it was about time I said something. “Who are you? And what do you want?”

“Hey, we’re asking the questions!” Tali snapped.

The man held up a placating hand. “It’s alright, Tali. He has a right to know.” He ignored Tali’s eye roll and continued. “This is Tali, as I’m sure you’ve guessed. My name is Jace.” He gestured to the blond man. “That’s Tali’s brother, Rolf.” He pointed to the dark-haired woman. “And of course, Avis.”

“Now that we’re done with introductions,” Tali said, “could we get back to what’s important?”

Jace smiled disarmingly. “Of course. Now, if you cooperate this will go much smoother for all of us,” he reminded me. “All we want is for you to help us steal something from Varren Evrenden.”

He said it so confidently, so casually that for several seconds all I could do was stare at him. “Oh, is that all?” I asked in disbelief. “You didn’t seem to have any trouble kidnapping me, why didn’t you take what you want then?”

Jace shook his head. “Not possible. He keeps this item with him at all times.”

“Help us get it, and we won’t have to hurt you,” Tali said, though it sounded more like a threat than a reassurance. “It’s a charm, one of a kind.”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” I told them. I wasn’t lying either – whatever ‘charm’ they were after, Varren had never shown it to me.

Tali scowled. “Don’t make this difficult.”

“I’m telling the truth,” I insisted. “I’ve never seen any charm!”

“You’re his familiar!” Tali shot back. “Why wouldn’t he tell you about it?”

I nearly laughed out loud. “That doesn’t mean anything to him!”

“He’s telling the truth,” Avis chimed before Tali could respond. “The kid is worthless.” She shook her head. “There goes your one plan.”

Jace frowned. “You’re sure?”

Avis laughed. “Am I sure? What did you hire me for? He’s so easy to read it’s pathetic. I thought cats were supposed to be good at telepathy, but here we are.”

I clenched my jaw. A high-level empath, I guessed, high enough to tell when people were being truthful. I was so used to having my guard down around Varren that I hadn’t even thought to mentally shield myself.

“We can still use him.” Rolf, who had been observing silently, spoke up. “Maybe the witch will negotiate when he hears we have his familiar.”

“Didn’t you hear me?” I asked. “He doesn’t give a damn what happens to me!”

“I find that hard to believe,” Tali said. “Every witch I know has at least some sort of attachment to their familiar. Why should Evrenden be any different?”

The absurdity of it nearly made me laugh out loud. “Do you not know anything about him at all? I’m probably last on the list of things he cares about.”

Tali looked to Avis. “Is he lying?” She demanded.

Avis shrugged. “No. Either he has really bad self-esteem issues, or Evrenden is a heartless bastard. Which we already knew.”

Tali turned back to glare at me, as if it were somehow my fault that Varren was a sorry excuse for a human being. “We can still use him,” she decided.

“Oh?” Jace inquired.

“If we can surprise Evrenden when he doesn’t expect it, we’ll have a chance at overpowering him.”

Rolf shifted uneasily. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Agreed,” Avis said. “I didn’t sign up for a suicide mission.”

Tali scowled at the two of them. “What else do you suggest?”

“We all know I’m only in this for the money,” Avis said. “Don’t ask me to solve your problems.”

“An ambush is the best option we have.” Jace looked apologetically at Rolf. “Sorry, but once again, your sister is right. We must take the risk. Our employer will not be happy if we return empty-handed.”

“At least someone is thinking clearly.” Tali turned back to me. “Alright kid, start talking.”

I didn’t let myself entertain the thought of helping them. Ashamed as I was to admit it, I was more afraid of what Varren would do to me to let the potential good outweigh it.

“I’m not telling you anything.”

Avis smirked. “Guess we’re doing this my way.”

I felt a shiver of fear make its way up my spine as she approached, and consoled myself with the thought that nothing she had planned could possibly touch what Varren had already done. That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt, though.

Tali and Jace stepped aside. Rolf looked away. I got the feeling he didn’t exactly approve of Avis, or her apparent penchant for torture, but he also wasn’t doing anything to stop her.

“Last chance,” Avis taunted, pulling a knife out of her belt.

I didn’t say anything. She stepped closer and held the blade against my face, the sharp edge barely digging into my skin. It was cold against my skin, and uncomfortably close to my left eye.

“Cat got your tongue?” She smirked. I suppressed an eye roll. “You have quite an adorable face,” she mused, digging in the knife ever so slightly. Not enough to draw blood – not yet. “Not a single scar on it.” She leaned closer, too close, and I was pressing myself further against the tree despite knowing it was useless. “I can fix that.”

She twisted the knife sharply, and I hissed in pain as it cut a line of fire down my face. Warm blood flowed down my face, catching in the collar that was still around my neck. It hurt, but not bad.

“A fun warmup,” Avis said brightly. “I like to start small.” She flipped the knife in her hand lifted to my shoulder, this time not waiting at all before plunging it into my shoulder.

I cried out, my vision going white for an instant. I shut my eyes tightly and forced myself to breathe, but it was hard when I swear I felt the knife hit bone.

“Hey, stay with me.” I felt a hard smack against my injured cheek and forced my eyes open. Avis was still smiling. “That’s better! Feeling more inclined to talk now?”

I clenched my jaw and glared at her. She seemed unfazed. Then she took hold of the knife and twisted, and I must have screamed but all I was aware of was white-hot pain – I didn’t know it was possible for a knife to hurt this bad – then it finally stopped and I struggled to breathe through the feeling of the knife that was still in my shoulder, all while Avis stood there, grinning.

“Having fun yet?” She moved the knife, no more than a centimeter, and I shut my mouth against a whimper. She leaned close again, jostling the knife as she did and causing more pain to shoot through my body. “We’re only getting started.”

––––––––––––––––

Tag List! Let me know if you want to be added or removed, or if I somehow missed your name.

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#whumptober2020 #no.1 #waking up restrained #OC #fic #writing #stabbing tw #cutting tw #knives tw #my ocs: felix #my ocs: avis #whump #nonhuman whumpee

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queenmylovely · 4 years

Text

Wedding Party II

Summary: Ben hardy x fem!reader. A game night between friends will surely take off the tension from whatever’s going on with you and Ben.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: cussing, building tension, charades

A/N: This is the third and final (multiple) part(s) of my 500 follower celebration!! Thank you so much again to everyone who follows me, including the people that have since I hit 500, cause it’s been a minute, whoops. I was planning three parts for this, but I got into the charades so we’re looking at four instead! (p.s. if you want to try to guess the charade movies before the characters do that’s how I tried to write it lol) Any feedback is super appreciated but especially replies, messages, and asks are super helpful for my writing ‘cause I get to hear what you think!

Part I, Part III, Part IV, Mini i, Mini ii, Masterlist

(yet again wonderful gif by @mrbenhardys)

💖💖💖

Ben couldn’t believe how close he had come to kissing you the other night. He had diverted it last second by kissing your cheek, but even that teetered too far over the line of what was supposed to happen. If fucking someone at Rami’s wedding wasn’t allowed, then developing a full-on crush wasn’t either. But boy was he.

Even though you were the one that had mentioned hearing about him when the two of you first met, he was surprised to see that all of the references to you by his friends hadn’t failed to live up. In fact, he would probably say that what they said didn’t do you justice. Though he wouldn’t advertise it, he had also done a quick instagram stalk and thought you were even more beautiful in person.

Rami hadn’t slipped up like Lucy and mentioned your name specifically when telling him not to sleep with anyone at the wedding, but even so, Ben found all of his focus on you when it came to that rule. Whether it was because you had known of but never met each other for so long or simply because of who you were, you fascinated him.

Which he knew was dangerous in this particular situation. But he reminded himself that he would only have to see you at the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, wedding, and reception. He thought that maybe after that something more could develop, but until then he would have to stay on track.

But when Ben got out of the car to head into Rami and Lucy’s building and held the door open for someone behind him, his whole plan was ruined when that person was you.

“Oh, hi!” you said cheerily and he said hi back; you were trying to mask the mixture of excitement and dread you were feeling. Excitement at seeing Ben and spending time with him and dread at seeing Ben and spending time with him.

The two of you walked across the lobby and to the elevator. Ben pushed the button and you waited together. He had the same internal dilemma going on but he just smiled and said, “I can assume you’re going to game night too then?”

“That’s a safe assumption. Haven’t seen you at one of these before,” you pointed out, trying to make casual conversation. The elevator dinged and you both got on, Ben again hitting the button for the correct floor.

“Yeah, my last film had a lot of night scenes and stuff so I was always busy. But that’s in post and my next one will be mainly day shoots so I’ll be able to come to more of these,” Ben explained as the elevator doors opened and the two of you walked into the hallway.

“We’ll be seeing a lot of each other then,” you commented during the short walk to their front door. You reached up and knocked twice.

“Yep.”

Then at the same time, the two of you sighed. Your heads whipped towards each other in confusion and you were both about to say something in response or question when the door opened.

“Ben! Y/N! You made it, and look at you arriving together, already practicing for the wedding, huh?” was Joe’s excited greeting when he opened the door.

“Hey mate, good to see you,” Ben told Joe, giving him a hug.

“Hey Joe,” you said with a smile as you hugged him. Then you teased, “Did Lucy and Rami hire you as their butler or do you just really enjoy opening doors?”

Ben laughed at what you said even though he didn’t have the full context and you felt your cheeks heat up.

As the three of you walked into the apartment Joe just barked out a laugh and told you, “You’re hilarious.”

You smiled at him, “I try.”

Once you reached the living room, you saw both Rami and Lucy there, setting up the snacks. Gwilym was there as well, but he was pouring a couple glasses of wine. They all put down what they were holding and came over to do the usual greetings and such. Apparently, it was only to be you six because some of the other regulars had other obligations.

After everyone had a little plate of snacks and a glass of red or white, Rami began his usual little spiel at the beginning of game nights, “Alright everyone, welcome to game night. We will be playing team games, so partner up now.”

“Dibs on Gwil,” Joe called out, looking directly at you with a smirk. If only he knew how good he had really gotten you.

You shot back, “That’s fine by me. I’m sure Ben will be a great teammate.”

All the same, Ben shot Joe a quick look that he didn’t understand and you shot Lucy a quick this-wasn’t-my-fault look that she accepted with a nod.

Rami continued, “Great, we have three games lined up, but we can play as many times as we like. Lastly, remember that this is strictly a friendly competition, so no sore losers when Lucy and I beat all of you,”

“Oh it’s on,” Joe replied. Then he and Rami got into a little trash-talk.

Ben laughed and turned to you, “Are you competitive?”

“Well… I suppose that’s something one could say about me,” you said with a sheepish smile.

“I hope I’m not too big of a disappointment then, I’m not the best at these types of things,” Ben said with a slightly awkward smile.

“I’m sure you’ll be great,” you said, placing your hand on his shoulder. “Anyway I’m not nearly as competitive as them.”

You nodded towards Rami and Joe who were jokingly getting in each other’s faces, unable to hold back their own laughter. Ben and you burst into laughter, joining Gwil and Lucy’s at the sight. It took you a second longer to realize that your hand was still on Ben’s shoulder. You only did because Ben had looked at it and you removed it before it became so awkward you had to leave.

Luckily, Rami and Joe were done with their shenanigans and everyone was ready to start the first game. It turned out to be charades and little slips of paper were quickly divided between the three groups.

Rami and Lucy went first and both were ridiculously quick at guessing each other’s answers. You supposed it came with living together and such as well as being actors.

Then Gwil and Joe were up and they didn’t fare quite as well. For some reason, Joe was being far too elaborate with his acting and would mime putting on a swimsuit, putting on sunscreen, swimming, and then being chased by something just to get Jaws. Gwil was good at the charade as soon as he actually started, but he seemed to overthink every word before he started.

Finally, it was you and Ben. You went first, saying before you started, “Sorry I’m literally the only non-actor here.”

Ben waved you off with a laugh. Then Lucy flipped the timer over and you quickly opened the first slip. It said Jurassic Park and you breathed a quick sigh of relief. Then you pointed at Joe, put your hand to the height of a little kid and did T-Rex arms.

“Jurassic Park!” Ben exclaimed and though Joe said something about that not being fair, you moved on.

Next you mimed taking a ring off and holding it up to your eyes, staring at it intensely.

“Lord of the Rings, next!”

The next one was harder, but you got going. First, you pretended to be eating toast and coffee. Second, you did some characters: one with crossed arms and a frown, one flexing muscles, one reading a book and pushing up glasses, one flipping their hair and giggling, and one pulling their hair and shaking their head.

“Okay, okay, eating and drinking, a meal? Breakfast? Breakfast. And these are different people? I don’t know that first one. Then a jock? A nerd? A pretty girl? Oh, oh! The Breakfast Club!” Ben shouted, looking proud of himself for getting it and you couldn’t help but smile before moving onto the next one.

You ended up getting five before time ran out, just one less than Lucy had on her turn. Now it was Ben’s turn to do the charading and you were ready to be the one guessing.

As you switched spots, Ben whispered to you with a smile, “Good job.”

Trying not to show your happiness at his little praise, you just nodded and returned a whisper of, “Thanks.”

Ben got ready, doing a little jog in place warmup as a joke and you probably laughed harder than necessary. Then Lucy counted down from three and flipped over the timer.

As Ben picked up the first slip, you leaned forward to pay attention.

With a nod, Ben started his first charade. He mimed someone in the shower and for a quick second you pictured what he would look like in the shower. But once you said shower, he moved to the next part, getting out of the “shower” and then whipping back the curtain and pumping his from near his head to in front of him again and again. Then you realized that he was pretending to stab someone.

“Psycho!” you yelled and Ben grinned.

After picking up the next slip the first thing Ben did was scrunch up his face in a snarl, crouching down to all fours and making a hand into a claw, stalking closer to you. You felt a weird mixture of apprehensiveness and something else as he got closer and had to remind yourself this was a clue.

Ben was only about a foot away from your legs before you blurted out, “Cat, uh, lion, tiger!”

Tiger was the one so Ben stood up and then mimed rowing a boat. You thought for a second before quickly stating, “Life of Pi.”

Two more slips later, you were only two away from a tie with Lucy and Rami and you had about thirty seconds on the clock.

Ben snatched up another slip and read it, a frown taking over his face for a second. Then he recovered and started miming drumming. Next he did guitar and keyboards then singing.

“Drums. Ok, guitar, keyboards, oh a band!” you said and Ben nodded before moving on.

Next he started dancing, which you could hardly stop from laughing at, but just because it was cute. He was doing lots of 70’s moves like the hustle, YMCA, John Travolta’s move from Saturday Night Fever, and others you didn’t know the name for.

“The hustle. Um, YMCA? The Village People? Disco?” you said as you tried to stifle your giggles.

Ben nodded quickly and then motioned to keep going.

“Um… a disco… band?” you questioned and got another carry on gesture from Ben. “ABBA?”

After a thumbs up, Ben mimed the sign for movies and then singing and it came to you and you jumped up, “Mamma Mia!”

“Yes!” Ben exclaimed right as Lucy called out time. He came over to you by the couch and brought you into a tight hug that almost lifted you off the ground and you laughed out loud in surprise.

Lucy cleared her throat and you and Ben let each other go quickly, turning to look at her. She just raised an eyebrow and smirked, “You know you two didn’t actually get enough to tie me and Rami.”

“Good thing it was just a friendly competition,” you pointed out with an equally fraught with meaning smile.

“And we have two more games to try and beat you guys,” Ben pointed out, with a regular smile.

“Actually, I think you mean that you have two more games to lose to us,” Joe cut in, breaking all the tension and making everyone laugh good-naturedly.

The night went on and in the end Rami and Lucy did win because while they lost to you and Ben in trivia, they beat everyone during taboo. Poor Gwil and Joe didn’t win anything, though they claimed that was because they were out of practice.

Once the games were done, music was turned on and everyone got to chatting. You were talking with Joe and Rami about New York and the other three were talking about their upcoming projects more in depth.

Then you realized your drink was running low and excused yourself to go refill it. What you didn’t see as you were walking over to where the wine was was Ben jumping up and excusing himself to do the same.

Just as you were reaching to grab a bottle, you heard him say, “Allow me.”

You turned to realize he was standing just a step behind you and you slowly placed the bottle in his outstretched hand. Then he reached around you to set down his glass and grab yours and you sucked in a breath at the feeling of him just barely brushing against you.

Ben started pouring the wine and as he was doing so, looked up at you with a hint of a smirk on his face.

You realized you were probably just staring at him with your mouth open so you fixed your face and said, “So is this becoming a thing? Are you always going to make my drinks for me?”

Ben laughed lightly and handed your glass back to you. As he picked up his glass, his arm grazed your waist and you had to physically take a step back so you wouldn’t take one forward and kiss him.

Then you heard loud laughter coming from the couches and you both looked to see Rami sitting on Lucy’s lap, both of them laughing so hard they could barely breathe. You smiled at the joy and Ben looked at you with a smile.

“They’re so in love,” he commented and you nodded, a dreamy look in your eyes.

“I’m so excited for the wedding. It’ll be beautiful,” you replied. “I’ve been to a lot of weddings and not everyone’s meant for it but they are.”

“Really?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, some of them are more in it for the wedding than the actual marriage you know?” Ben nodded. “Luce and Rami want a special day, but it’s more important to them who’s there than what it looks like.”

“I had a mate from primary who must’ve had over 300 people at his wedding. I didn’t even get to talk to him and we had been best mates when we were young, so they’re definitely doing the right thing with quality over quantity too,” Ben told you.

“Wow, yeah. I guess along the same lines I can see what Lucy means. But it was a little much to tell me we couldn’t--” you stopped yourself right before revealing that you weren’t allowed to sleep with Ben to Ben. You hoped that Ben didn’t notice your abrupt stop, but he did, his brows furrowing.

“We couldn’t…?” he asked, his thoughts flashing to his conversation with Rami.

“I just-- we, like, the guests, couldn’t-- well shouldn’t-- or it’d be better to--”

“Hey Y/N, who was it from our class that got married recently with that wild theme wedding?” Lucy called over to you, and you quickly took it as a chance to get out of this conversation with Ben.

So you turned to Lucy and as you spoke, and slowly walked over to where they were, leaving Ben to either stay where he was alone or join everyone else in the conversation, “It was Amanda. And the theme was that elf… village? From Lord of the Rings, the one where Cate Blanchett lived.”

“Lothlórien,” Gwil informed everyone.

“Sure. Some of it went over my head, but it was pretty,” you commented. By that time, Ben had taken a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours. The conversation turned into a debate about theme weddings but it was hard to stay fully focused with Ben’s warmth interrupting your thoughts. Those damn thighs aren’t fair, you complained to yourself.

This time, you were the first to get up to leave since you had brunch with a friend the next morning.

“Are you good to drive?” Lucy asked since you had had three glasses of wine.

“Oh, I took an uber here, so I was just going to take another one back,” you answered.

“This late at night?” she asked, a worried look on her face.

“Well I always kinda take ubers this late…” you mumbled.

“You know what? I have something tomorrow too, I can take you home. I’ve only had a glass and a half,” Ben suggested, holding up his half full glass as proof.

“Oh, you don’t have--” you started but were interrupted.

“Per-fect!” Lucy said with a smile and you resigned yourself to accepting the ride.

You and Ben gathered your things and then said your goodbyes, getting hugs and kisses from all, especially Lucy who was four glasses in and a little tipsy.

Then you and Ben walked out of the apartment, following the same path you had taken together only a couple hours ago. You chatted about this and that but you were more focused on how your hands would brush against each other every fifth step or so than the conversation.

That is until Ben said, “So you’ve never used my number.”

You weren’t expecting that so you coughed in surprise before answering, “Well, I texted you saying it was me so you had mine too.”

“Well… okay,” Ben said a little sheepishly.

“Okay,” you responded before pulling out your phone. You went to your Instagram dms and found a meme that you thought he would like and sent it to him. “There you go, I used it.”

Ben took out his phone when he got the notification and opened it, laughing when he saw what it was, “Oh my gosh, this is so cute. You know I have a dog.”

“You do?” you asked, getting excited.

“Yeah her name’s Frankie. Here,” he replied, going to his home screen where you could see a picture of just about the cutest beagle you’ve ever seen.

“Oh my goodness, she’s adorable. Ugh I love her,” you said, going a little goo-goo at the sight of the dog. It helped that owning a dog was always an item on your pro list for guys.

“She’s the best. Oh, here we are,” Ben said, gesturing to his car.

The two of you got in, but before he turned on the engine Ben said, “Here, watch this video of her.”

Ben leaned over the console to show you and you met him halfway, both of you turning your eyes down to the phone to watch Frankie running around what you would assume is Ben’s apartment, fresh from a bath. You and Ben laughed at her antics and when she jumped up on the couch and wiggled around on her back, Ben’s groan in the video and groan in real life synched up and you lost it.

Ben couldn’t help but laugh too, but he said, “Hey, that left a stain, that’s a suede couch.”

That just made you laugh harder and soon both you and Ben were leaning on each other for support as you tried to catch your breath. As your laughter finally died down, you looked up at Ben, whose face was only a few inches from yours and as a couple more giggles passed your lips, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at Ben’s. You looked back at his eyes and caught him doing the same, biting your lip in anticipation. Both of you leaned a little closer, a little closer, until you were so close you could feel Ben’s breath on your lips.

Then your phone’s ringtone went off, louder than reasonable and you both jumped in surprise. You picked it up again and saw that it was Lucy calling.

“Yes, Lucy?” you answered with a bit of a sigh, your rational mind returning and reminding you that you weren’t supposed to kiss Ben.

“I forgot to tell you to text me when you get home!” she practically yelled and you held the phone away from your ear. You could hear Rami shushing her on the other end.

“Okay, I will, don’t worry, Luce,” you reassured her before saying a quick goodbye and hanging up.

Ben had turned on the engine and was starting to pull out of the parking space.

“She just wanted me to let her know when I get home,” you explained.

“Yeah I heard,” Ben said with a laugh. “Just, uh, tell me where to go.”

“Oh yeah,” you replied, remembering that he was taking you to your house and not back to his.

💖💖💖

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#dont worry Lucy wouldn't keep them from riding together if it meant reader wasn't being safe. she's a g #but can she stop interrupting their moments??#bohemian rhapsody #borhap #ben hardy #ben jones #wedding party #queenmylovely #fic #series #fluff #bohemian rapsody movie #bohemian rhapsody x reader #borhap boys #borhap cast #borhap x reader #ben hardy x reader #benhardy #bohemianrhapsody

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astrophysicist-guitar-god · 3 years

Text

I was curious if Jimi Hendrix had ever played in Columbus, and it turns out that he did, one show in March 1968.

I found two stories about it, one in the Columbus Dispatch marking the 50th anniversary of the show, and this one, about Hendrix hanging out with one of the local support bands afterwards, and partying very wholesomely.

I. Love. This.

The night Jimi Hendrix partied with the Dantes in Linden

By Eric Lyttle, Editor, Columbus Monthly

Posted Mar 3, 2018 at 1:45 PM

Fifty years ago tonight, Jimi Hendrix was sitting on the floor inside a small, nearly empty house in Linden enjoying a post-concert glass of red wine. No, not London. Linden. As in the working class neighborhood of northeast Columbus.

Lynn Wehr doesn’t remember much about the show itself. Neither does Barry Hayden. The two were members of the Dantes, arguably the most popular local band in Columbus at the time. The Dantes served as the warmup act for Hendrix that night, March 3, 1968, at Vets Memorial Auditorium on West Broad Street, just across the Scioto River from City Hall.

Wehr, now 71 and living in Delaware County as a retired T. Marzetti Co. executive, thinks he watched the flamboyant rock guitarist from the side of the stage. “I don’t even remember what he played,” says Wehr. “I remember there was a cover or two. I believe he did ‘Hang On Sloopy.’ ”

Hayden says he couldn’t even see Hendrix. “I was stage left, between the second or third curtain,” says Hayden, now 70 and retired in Powell after arranging guided tours of the Ohio Statehouse for nearly 20 years. “I had a straight-on shot of Mitch Mitchell’s kick-drum foot. It was the fastest kick-drum foot I’d ever seen,” Hayden says of the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s drummer. “I watched that all night and couldn’t believe how he did it.”

But before the show and after—that they both remember.

Before the show, all the bands on the bill—including Soft Machine, progenitors of England’s prog-rock scene, and Four O’Clock Balloon, another local Columbus favorite—shared the same dressing room. Hayden, the Dantes’ boyish, blond heartthrob of a lead singer, remembers that he wore a silk scarf around his neck that night. When Hendrix entered the dressing room, he, too, was wearing a scarf. “But it was tied differently,” Hayden says. “I kept looking at it, trying to figure it out. I finally went over to him and asked him about it. He says, ‘You’re tying it like an American ties it.’ I did the crossover thing, like a necktie. He says, ‘Let me show you how the British tie it.’ And he showed me. And I tied it like Jimi forever after that. What the hell? If Jimi Hendrix says this is the way you’re supposed to do it, that’s the way you do it. It’s not open debate.”

After the scarf-tying lesson, Wehr, the Dantes’ rhythm guitarist, remembers, “Barry said, ‘Hey, we’re having a party afterward. Would you guys like to come?’ Mitch Mitchell and [Hendrix bass player] Noel Redding immediately said, ‘No.’ But Hendrix said, ‘Yes.’ We were like, ‘Wow. OK.’ ”

After the show, Wehr arranged to pick up Hendrix at the Christopher Inn, the city’s iconic cylindrical hotel on Broad Street, where the Experience was staying, and take him back to the house on Howey Road, a couple of blocks south of Hudson Street, that the Dantes used as a party house and rehearsal space.

“We get to the Christopher Inn—I think Jack White, the drummer for Four O’Clock Balloon was with me—and it’s late, probably after midnight, and there’s one guy at the desk,” Wehr says. “We told him we were there to pick up Jimi Hendrix. Here we were, a couple of guys in polka-dot pants and long hair. I’m sure we looked like groupies. And the guy at the desk says, ‘He’s not staying here.’ But we were like, ‘Look, we just were on the show with him at Vets, we told him we’d pick him up.’ We must have been convincing enough, because the guy picks up the phone and makes a call. Then he turns around, kind of sheepish like, and tells us, ‘He’ll be right down.’ ”

“Not five minutes later, the elevator doors open and out steps Hendrix, colorful, flowing clothes, a big hat with a big feather in it, completely dressed the part,” says Wehr.

Hendrix climbed in the passenger seat of the Dantemobile, a blue Chevy Caprice station wagon with “Dantes” in letters down the side. “We started down High Street, and when we got to campus, students were still out doing their thing,” says Wehr. “Every time we’d stop at a stop light, they’d see the Dantes car, turn and look and see Hendrix sitting in the passenger seat, and start running. The light would change and I’d speed away before they could catch us, until the next light, and the same thing would happen. We were like the Pied Piper, with kids running after us down High Street.”

The Dantes’ Howey Street house wasn’t much—nothing but a few mattresses thrown on the floor, egg cartons stapled to the walls of the basement to help muffle the sound during rehearsals. “We basically had nothing to offer him,” says Wehr. “We asked what he’d like, and he said he’d enjoy a glass of red wine. We all kind of looked at each other and thought, ‘What do we do now?’ Fortunately, one of the girls there said she lived close and could get a bottle. In short order, she came back with a bottle that she probably took from her parents. We sat around on the floor and talked and drank the bottle.”

“There were no drugs of any kind, nothing crazy,” Wehr says. “He was really soft-spoken, nice, mild-mannered—nothing like the guitar-burning wild man you’d see on stage. I think we just talked about music. He wasn’t put out. I think he genuinely wanted to be there. It was a scene.”

“After about an hour or so, he says, ‘Hey, I’ve really enjoyed being with you guys but have to get up early,’ ” Wehr says. “I think he had a gig in New York the next day. So we got in the car and I drove him back to the Christopher Inn.”

Both Wehr and Hayden say there was no idol worship—no photos, no autographs. They weren’t starry-eyed teens. They were in their early 20s, only a couple of years younger than Hendrix. They’d opened for other big names, had toured the country and had enjoyed their share of success. Their first single, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love,” had cracked the Billboard Top 40 nationally and had become the No. 1 song in the Columbus market in 1966, pushing ”(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration” by the Righteous Brothers off the mark.

“I looked at it like we were all peers,” says Hayden. “It was another gig. We were happy about it for sure, because we liked him. But we basically had the same clothes, the same gear.”

They thought it would last forever. It didn’t. Within two years, Hendrix was dead of an overdose, and the Dantes were done. “I realize now, in later years, it was a big deal. It’s cool. I’m glad I get to talk about it now,” says Hayden. “But I miss it. It’s not the same now as it was. I liked it better then. I feel bad for anybody who didn’t grow up when we did. Being a teenager was just about the best thing you could be. We ruled. To be truthful, if you brought a time machine to my house, I’d set it for 1964 and leave right now.”

I wanted to include a link to the venue, but the old Vet’s Memorial has since been demolished to make way for a brand new national Vet’s museum on the same spot, and that’s mostly what I’m finding. But! Here’s an interesting article (with a picture) about the politics behind tearing down what was a pretty major landmark in Columbus to make way for the new building.

And! To make a long post longer, the shows before and after Columbus on that tour; from setlist.fm:

March 2, 1968: Hunter College Assembly Hall, New York, NY (two shows)

March 3, 1968: Veterans Memorial Auditorium, Columbus, OH

March 4, 1968: Paul's The Scene, New York, NY

March 5, 1968: Paul's The Scene, New York, NY

Looking over his entire concert schedule, he must have been exhausted. I hope he enjoyed hanging out with a local band for a little while, just drinking a little wine and talking. He probably needed it. :-(

#Jimi Hendrix #The Dantes #there's so much about this that I love #and so much that is sad #his manager was a jackass and a half #Columbus #Columbus Ohio #a rare non-Brian post #a rare non-Queen post

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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Bet You Look Good On The Dancefloor, 1 (Branjie) (and background everyone) - Ortega

a/n: hey everyone! no ur not getting deja vu, i’m reposting what i have of this fic again just with a few necessary adjustments if u kwam. rip all my notes and lovely comments as i’m going to have chapter 1 deleted after this for obvious reasons, so feel free to still leave me some luv bc i’m ngl, re-jigging two fics is taking it out of me asdfghjklkjhgfds. without further ado may i now present to you strictly au 2: electric boogaloo xo

(this one goes out to the anon who wanted radio 1 DJ Heidi Nina Closet xo)

fic summary: Strictly Come Dancing enters its 18th series and its producers, after being goaded by a rival dance show on its inclusivity, commission it to be an all-female cast. Unlike Akeria who’s just here to bone her potential dance partner, dancer Vanessa is ready to act like a professional.

And then TV presenter Brooke Lynn walks into the rehearsal room.

***

8th August 2020

Political correctness gone mad. Or at least, that’s what all the straight, white, 50 year old men have been tweeting. But the TV bosses thought that a same-sex version of the nation’s favourite dancing show would pull the viewers in, at least get some hype going like the good old days. The show’s been going since 2004, Vanessa thinks, as she rolls her neck and looks at the various alleged celebrities opposite them. This is what caused the death of the X Factor, all these sensationalist spin-offs, and now they’re doing the same with this one. She supposes the BBC were intimidated by Dancing on Ice, who had a single solitary same-sex couple on their show and were called out live by H from Steps. How humiliating. She’s only been part of the show for two years; this is her third, but her first one with a partner. She scans her eyes back down the line again, her gaze interrupted as Akeria whispers to her.

“Who you gunning for? I like that goddess, third from the right. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark skin. Shit, our babies would be beautiful.”

Vanessa pauses, looks at who Akeria’s talking about and snorts a laugh. “Keeks, that’s Asia O'Hara. The chef? She’s been on Saturday Kitchen a couple times.”

“You actually watch that shit?” Akeria side-eyed her.

“Hey, drop the judgemental tone, bitch! It’s easy, chilled-out Saturday morning viewing. Anyway, chefs? Nah. Two left feet and they stomp their way across the dancefloor.”

“It ain’t the dancefloor I’m worried about. I’m more interested in what’s going on in the bedroom,” Akeria wiggles her eyebrows, making Vanessa snort a laugh. Seeing her friend’s expression of disbelief, Akeria rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on, Vanj. You telling me you never thought about it? A lil’ steamy affair? Get the Daily Mail’s tongues wagging?”

“Shut the hell up. You’re awful,” Vanessa laughs long-sufferingly in reply, casts her eyes back down the line of celebrities. Scarlet Envy is at the top- Vanessa knows her, she’s in one of the big soap operas. She’s talking quite earnestly to Yvie Oddly. Vanessa is aware of Yvie only because her niece is obsessed with her Youtube channel. What is it she does again? Gaming walkthroughs? She can’t remember. There’s a tall newsreader with dark hair that Vanessa doesn’t remember the name of but she knows that Jan’s eyeing her up from across the room, so even if she ends up being half-decent and Vanessa gets on well with her Jan will still cut her to make sure she ends up with her as a partner. There’s a black girl with a mane of dark hair and a gap tooth chatting to a blonde woman with glittery makeup, some pretty girls that must be influencers or makeup artists or something (in fact, Vanessa definitely recognises one from Love Island), and Monet X Change. Vanessa definitely knows her, and she’s quite surprised the show managed to net Monet given that most of the singers that appear on the show are usually washed up talent show rejects. Vanessa’s seen some clips of her touring, she knows she’s a good dancer. Maybe she’d be good.

Vanessa takes one final sweep down the line as she sees the producers readying themselves to begin. One, two, three, four…hang on. There’s only eleven celebrities, and unless she’s suddenly lost the ability to count Vanessa knows there’s twelve dancers. Maybe they were going to be more cutthroat than she thought, maybe this would be where they decide which dancers they’re giving partners to and which one they’re cutting. Vanessa nervously shifts in her character shoes as the producers begin their welcome.

As they’re talking, the huge rehearsal room doors burst open and a tall blonde comes rushing through them, dressed in white trainers, a baggy white gym top, and black Nike leggings. She looks on her way to be sweating half of her perfectly made up face off as she runs over to join the other celebrities, sweeping her long, curling-ironed hair up into a bun and apologising frantically as she does so.

“Kiki,” Vanessa whispers to her friend. “Who’s that?”

She feels Akeria shrug beside her. Luckily Monique is standing by her right side and has heard her question.

“Oh, bitch! That’s Brooke Lynn. She presents stuff.”

“What the fuck’s stuff?” Vanessa laughs quietly, not wanting to incur the wrath of the producers by talking over them.

“She did, uh…The Voice. An’ she did some kind of consumer show in the evenings. She does The One Show now. Bunch of boring ass shit, basically,” Monique waves a hand dismissively towards the end, gets distracted by a wink and a small wave across the room from Monet X Change.

“Damn. So they give her all the boring shows to present because they know people will tune in ‘cause she’s hot?” Vanessa muses. It’s just a fact, after all. She’s not been able to tear her eyes away from her since she rushed into the room. Vanessa hopes she’s a good dancer.

“Oop. Here we go already. The Strictly curse claims its first victim,” Akeria overhears her, sticks her tongue out at her as Vanessa bats her on the arm. The sudden movement causes one of the producers to whip round and glare at Vanessa and she immediately drops her arm and fixes him with an easy smile.

When she looks back at Brooke Lynn, she’s hiding her mouth with her hand and her eyes are twinkling at her in a laugh. Vanessa presses her lips together to keep from smiling back.

They all warm up together, even though Vanessa’s already warmed up, but it’s a good chance to see who has potential and who looks more like an octopus out of water with half its limbs cut off. She scans the mirrored wall as she rolls her shoulders in time with the EDM that’s blasting from the speakers. The blonde influencer-looking girl is fucked from the start, Vanessa notes. She’s rolling her shoulders both the wrong way and off-beat. One of the celebrities, the pouty one from Love Island, is already complaining that she’s pulled a muscle. Vanessa makes the executive decision that if she gets partnered up with her then she’s quitting the show and also possibly going on a killing spree in Elstree Studios.

Brooke Lynn hasn’t met her eyes since they caught each others’ earlier. She’s not being weird, it’s just an observation. Vanessa’s, however, have drifted her way a couple of times. Brooke seems to be sailing through the warmup that Jaida’s leading easily, and Vanessa notes how easily she’s managing the split stretches, how she can bend her body almost in half until her head touches the floor. She’s clearly had some sort of dance training before, and Vanessa thinks her good looks would just be a bonus of being partnered with her. She sweeps her gaze across the room again as she stretches out her other leg, her gaze landing on Yvie. She’s bendy, her forehead pressed to the floor as she stretches out and giggles at Scarlet beside her whose body appears to be made almost entirely of cardboard. Vanessa stifles a giggle herself as Jaida starts leading them in squats, hears Monique muttering something to her as she drops to the floor. Vanessa fixes her with a confused face.

“Think you’ve got an admirer,” Monique repeats a little louder, raising her eyebrows and jerking her head behind them to where the celebrities warmed up. Vanessa brings herself up out of the squat, whips her head round to see Brooke looking right at her.

Or rather, her ass.

As Brooke suddenly looks at about six different places in the room in the space of a second and her face turns roughly the same colour as a fire engine, Vanessa turns her head back round, trying to ignore the heat she can feel attacking her own face.

It’s kind of ironic that every year at least one couple is claimed by the Strictly curse and yet the producers still call the process of finding a potential partner “Speed Dating”. The curse is a phenomenon that Vanessa has felt the brunt of and knows all too well- a partner and a contestant, almost every year, end up either falling for each other or falling into bed with each other. It’s natural, she supposes- you can’t spend practically every waking moment of every day pressed up against someone else and not trip and fall onto their dick. However, this is a room full of girls, at least half of whom Vanessa knows are gay as all hell, and maybe this year there’ll be a bit more nuance and obliviousness and just general all-round idiocy.

Looking at the celebrities, she sees Scarlet joke-grinding against Yvie, both of them almost falling over laughing. Maybe everyone will be a little less oblivious than Vanessa has given them credit for.

One of the producers launches into a spiel about how the pairing up process will work. Everyone knows they won’t get properly paired up until the launch show, but this will be more of a chemistry test than a dancing test, he explains, to see who gets on with each other best. Then at the end, all of them will get to write down their top three potential partners.

“After all,” he laughs, “You’re going to be spending a long time together!”

There’s a polite bubble of laughter that pops in the room, and Vanessa feels her stomach explode suddenly with butterflies. What if she gets paired up with someone she doesn’t get on well with at all, never mind someone who can dance? Her mind drifts. Phi Phi’s standing beside her, her face set in a small frown. Vanessa whispers to her.

“Who you got your eyes on?”

Phi Phi doesn’t shift her gaze, and Vanessa follows it. Her gaze lands on the woman with the glittery makeup who’s laughing like a seal at something that gap tooth girl has said and isn’t paying any attention to what the producers are saying. “Anyone with a pulse who’s taking the competition seriously. I know who I don’t want, put it that way.”

Vanessa indulges her in a laugh. Phi Phi has reached the semi-final four times and has never advanced further, and her frustration is starting to show. Vanessa supposes she’s at an advantage here- she’s fresh on the show, she doesn’t have any chips on her shoulder. As she looks around the room, she can see each of the dancers’ past experiences reflected on their faces like battle scars: four-time World Championship finalist Courtney is smiling easily, happy in the knowledge that she won last year and will probably get a dud partner this year, Shea, former West End Choreographer who could literally get given Theresa May and still manage to advance to the finals has a calm exterior, and frowning determinedly is 2018 Latin European champion Vixen, who bowed out early last year with her partner and has expressed very openly and very loudly to everyone who’ll hear her that she’s going for the glitterball this year. In a similar boat is World Cup Freestyle Latin Champion Aja, who was up against Courtney in the finals last year and lost by only a tiny margin of the vote. The girl doesn’t seem bitter, but she’s already got her eyes trained on Monet and has clearly backed her winner already. Crystal is lost in a daydream, classic. To the untrained eye the girl may look as if she couldn’t even do the macarena in time, but the girls know better. Crystal is hard-working, determined, creative, clever, and one of the highest-ranking ballroom and Latin dancers in the country. Vanessa knows that whoever she gets as a partner she’ll be able to mold into something amazing.

Vanessa’s gaze then lands on Plastique. The girl is a fierce dancer and it’s her fifth year on the show already. If she’s nervous, she doesn’t show it. Then again, she trained under Alyssa Edwards so she’s very possibly not felt butterflies in her stomach since the year 2012. Vanessa’s eyes widen a bit as she notices Plastique eyeing up Brooke. She’s going to need to turn up the charm all the way to 100, as Plastique’s reputation precedes her and she’ll be top choice for a lot of the girls opposite.

One by one, the dancers introduce themselves. Vanessa keeps her introduction short and sweet. She doesn’t like to brag about her titles unlike some of the other girls, and she knows that her achievements are outshone by many so she focuses on the fact it’s her first year with a partner instead.

“I ain’t got a track record like Courtney, but I also ain’t got one like Monique either,” Vanessa jokes, her friend nudging her and shouting in protest as the other girls laugh. Monique takes it in good humour though- she’s been an early out for a few years in a row having kept landing Olympic sportsmen with limbs like toy soldiers, so it’s a fair enough comment. Vanessa continues, trying not to let her eyes land on Brooke all that much. “So whoever gets paired with me don’t need to be worried ‘cuz they’re gonna always end up being special to me. My first partner on the show, and the first person I get to experience it with. And I’d be happy to get any of you, because you all look nice and smiley an’ friendly!”

She adds in that last bit to come across as gracious, and it seems to work as the celebrities opposite all smile at her gently and she hears a couple of “aaw!”s thrown her way. She can practically feel Phi Phi, Aja and Vixen all roll their eyes at her, but she doesn’t care. It’s a point in her favour with the girls opposite at least.

After the professionals have all said their piece, the celebrities pipe up. To give them their dues, there are quite a few that Vanessa would be glad to be partnered up with. Peppermint, a TV journalist, seems like she’d be great to gossip with if nothing else, Gigi, the once so intimidating-looking model has got a goofy side that would keep Vanessa sane in rehearsals, and Instagram influencer Blair seems similarly sweet and is so eager to please that it almost hurts. Then Brooke steps forward, her expression the serene calm of a woman who’s used to speaking in front of an audience, and all Vanessa can think about is how much of a point that confident, in-control body language would be in their favour when they took to the floor in week one.

No, not when. If. She’s getting ahead of herself.

“Hey everyone! I’m Brooke Lynn Hytes, uh, I present stuff. I’m basically like Ant and Dec but without the loveable double-act element and the millions of national TV awards clogging up my trophy cabinets and gathering dust.”

Vanessa lets out a snort. The actual joke isn’t even that funny, but Brooke’s delivery was so deadpan and matter of fact that it made the whole thing ten times more hilarious. Akeria turns to face Vanessa, raises her eyebrows and hisses over to her.

“Girl. Any further up her ass and your new nickname is gonna be suppository for the rest of the season.”

“Uh, dance-experience-wise I actually have a fair bit. I did exams and dance shows in high school. I don’t know if I should’ve mentioned that, now you’re all gonna be fighting over me like a pack of zombies,” Brooke laughs. The other girls join in with the laughter and Vanessa shifts from foot to foot. Brooke doesn’t know how accurate she’s just been. Oblivious, she carries on. “So yeah! Good luck to us all. Please don’t tear me limb from limb.”

Another laugh that Vanessa joins in weakly with. Unsurprisingly, Brooke introducing herself to the room has done nothing for Vanessa’s nerves. She has a favourite now, but it’s akin to putting money on a greyhound race- it’s a complete gamble. She tells herself that she can’t pin her hopes on getting partnered with Brooke, even though that thought is a bit like locking a stable door after the pony’s bolted, or whatever the goddamn figure of speech is. As gap-in-teeth-girl who’s standing beside Brooke begins to introduce herself (Heidi’s a Radio 1 DJ, and that explains why her voice sounds so familiar) Vanessa jumps a little as she hears Monique whisper to her out of nowhere.

“Girl, Jesus. Dare you to be less obvious.”

Vanessa narrows her eyes at her as she turns her head. “What?”

“Brooke Lynn,” Monique cocks her head towards the girl in question. Vanessa keeps her gaze steely. “Put your tongue back in your mouth, sis.”

“Oh, like you’ve not got a favourite already,” Vanessa whispers back. She’s got the Monet card she can use if she wants to.

“You know you don’t have to take that partner thing literally, right? You don’t actually have to fuck the person you get matched with,” Monique shoots back, pressing her lips together to stop herself from laughing. Vanessa rolls her eyes.

“You’re being ridiculous. She’s got dance experience, the height difference is good, I could win with her. There’s nothing more to it than that. I’d be happy with any of these bitches.”

Monique raises her eyebrows. “You’re not tryin’ to be Miss World, Vanj, it’s okay to say you wouldn’t kick her outta bed.”

“Okay, so what about Monet? I’m sure the reason that you keep lookin’ all the way down that end of the room is definitely…shit, I don’t know…some sort of eye condition?” Vanessa uses her trump card, smiles and sticks her tongue out at Monique who gives her a little shove and clamps her mouth shut in a pout, knowing she’s been outmanoeuvred. Vanessa tunes back in to the introductions. The Love Island girl introduces herself as Farrah, and she’s pouting and asking the pros not to work her too hard. Vanessa thinks back to what Phi Phi had said. She’ll give the girl some credit. Maybe Vanessa should focus more on who she doesn’t want after all.

The producers start leading girls from their side of the room to the middle so that they form two big vertical lines in front of each other. Vanessa starts in front of Blair, who smiles kindly at her and appears too shy to speak. There’s no time for Vanessa to really attempt to strike up a conversation as they’re all getting shuffled around based on their heights. She watches as Brooke gets moved from in front of Aja, past Shea, past Crystal, and finally given to Jan.

Fuck.

Vanessa shakes the disappointment off. She’s being ridiculous, she knows she’ll get a turn with mostly everyone and the fact that Brooke’s tall, statuesque frame contrasts with her pint-sized self means that she’s a dead cert to get a shot at dancing with her. There’s not many people smaller than her so she knows she’s not going to be leading. This is good, as she’s obviously not used to it. The girls paired up with the smaller celebrities are going to have to work twice as hard.

Blair gets shuffled around to be partnered with Aja, and eventually Vanessa gets Gigi deposited in front of her. She gives her a friendly wave and a pleasant smile, and eventually everyone is paired up- for now. Vanessa looks over at Akeria, notices she’s been given Asia to dance with first. Akeria meets her gaze and gives her a smile that Vanessa doesn’t think she’s going to be able to wipe off her face until mid-June of next year.

As the producers give the girls some time to teach the celebrities an incredibly basic salsa step to start them off with, Vanessa relaxes as she begins talking Gigi through the steps. She’s glad she’s finally getting to do what she loves instead of being consumed by nerves and what-ifs. She knows how to dance and she’s good at it- it’s just a fact- and she knows she’s able to teach things, having helped out with the kids at her dance school when she was younger. To her delight Gigi picks things up quickly, and the two of them are simply dancing the same four basic moves in a loop as they move on to chatting.

“You’re a good teacher! It’s taking some of these other bitches ages,” Gigi laughs, Vanessa giving a guilty giggle at the comment as she notices Jadia, very patiently and very deliberately, walking Scarlet through the steps again.

“See, you wouldn’t think I never had a partner before!” Vanessa beams back at her, twirling around and landing back in Gigi’s hold. To some of the girls it might be a little awkward trying to make small-talk with someone they’ve just met whilst holding one of their hands and having another pressed to their back, but to Vanessa it comes naturally. She notices that Gigi is scanning the room and looking at the other girls. Vanessa knows a searching pair of eyes when she sees one. “You got your eye on a girl?”

“Well, you’d be good,” Gigi says immediately, although how much of that is out of courtesy Vanessa doesn’t know. “Or, I mean. Jaida’s a fierce teacher, and she’s won it before, right?”

Vanessa nods. She knows that Gigi is still holding back the namedrop of the girl she really wants. “But I guess, you know, Crystal’s a talent. It kind of seems like everyone sleeps on her despite the fact she’s got all these trophies and ranks so highly and she does ballroom and Latin. She ever won before?”

“Not yet. She got paired with some stompy politician last year and was an early out, but she made the semis before that,” Vanessa indulges her, although she’s quite sure that judging by the slight blush on Gigi’s face that she’s well aware of where Crystal’s ranked in previous seasons. Gigi seems nice, and she’s complimented Vanessa so she decides to throw one her way too. “You’ve got potential, you could take her to the finals easily. She could do a lot with you.”

“That’s sweet. Thanks,” Gigi smiles, Vanessa giving another twirl just as the producers get everyone to stop and switch round again. Time passes by in steps and twirls rather than minutes, but the variety of people she gets paired with ensures that things don’t become boring. Vanessa gets Scarlet, who steps on her toes about three times and, in her own words, dances like an inflatable waving tube man stuck outside a car showroom, then actress Willam, the one with the laugh like a seal and sparkly makeup and scant regard for the moves she’s been taught, preferring to make Vanessa laugh the whole time. After that she is paired with Jackie, the newsreader she’d noticed earlier. She shows promise but Vanessa does notice Jan’s head bobbing about looking at them from the other side of the room the whole time they’re together like an invasive meerkat so Vanessa does her a solid and talks Jan up a storm. She can’t really focus too much on Jackie, to be fair, because Plastique’s been partnered with Brooke and the two of them are already laughing and hitting it off with each other and Vanessa feels her blood fizz with determination.

Finally, mercifully, Brooke gets led down by one of the producers to stand in front of her, and for a moment Vanessa is tongue-tied. Brooke’s dark green eyes and her gorgeous face are a little intimidating, not that she’s got a crush or anything, and Vanessa feels herself growing shy for a second. But then she remembers that they only have minutes together, and if she wants to be partnered with this girl she’s going to have to up the charm offensive. The producers have been stalking the room like lions with notebooks, recording every laugh and lingering glance.

“Hey!” Vanessa starts cheerfully, fixing Brooke with the winning smile she always used to flash at the judges when she was competing. “I’m Vanjie. Well, Vanessa. Either. Is fine.”

Brooke smiles back at her despite the fact that her introduction was so awkward Vanessa feels like digging a hole in the ground and leaping into it. “Nice to meet you, Vanjie-Well-Vanessa. I’m Brooke Lynn.“

Before Vanessa can feel any more embarrassed at Brooke’s teasing, she takes a little bow and stands ready, her hand held out for her to take. "May I have this dance?”

Vanessa lets out a laugh at the cheesiness of it all, takes Brooke’s hand and stands in hold with her. Their hands seem to fit perfectly together and even though their bodies are still quite far apart Brooke’s hand on her back makes Vanessa feel close to her in a way she’s not felt dancing with any man before.

Monique’s teasing face appears in her mind and Vanessa shakes those particular thoughts away.

“I bet you said that to all these girls,” Vanessa quirks an eyebrow at her, and Brooke tilts her head to the ceiling in thought.

“Uh…no, don’t think so. Just you so far,” she shrugs, and it definitely doesn’t make Vanessa feel special in any way at all.

They start to step and oh shit. This is exciting. This is the first girl that’s properly led her, the first one that the moves have seemed to come so easily to, and Vanessa can feel her heart going like a train as she imagines what she could actually choreograph with a girl like Brooke to work with. She’s a bit quiet as she’s lost in thought, so she cracks an impressed face at the girl opposite her.

“You’re good.”

“Yeah, so are you,” Brooke looks at her a little funny, her face inquisitive. “Hey, how come you didn’t mention any of your accolades? Y'know. World Latin Champion 2016, four-time finalist. That’s a bragging right.”

Vanessa almost loses her steps she’s so shocked. How the fuck does Brooke know about all that? She’s not mentioned it. Brooke can clearly see the shock on her face and a blush hits her cheeks. “That probably sounds weird. I looked you up when I knew I was coming on the show.”

Vanessa laughs, pulls a face at Brooke. “Nah, that sounds even more weird. You’re just digging yourself a hole now.”

Brooke gives an embarrassed giggle, looks up at the sky to avoid Vanessa’s gaze and oh fuck she’s still moving perfectly and she’s not got her eyes trained on her feet holy shit. “No, I mean I looked all the girls up!”

Vanessa bursts out laughing again. The girl’s not helping her case. “Dig, dig, dig, bitch!”

Brooke squeals in protest as Vanessa feels her smile hurt her face. “You know what I mean! Ugh, God. Just answer the question and stop picking on me. I’m a very important celebrity. Don’t you know who I am?”

Brooke’s deadpan sort of humour is killing Vanessa. She tries to get out another jibe through her laugh. “Jesus, I hope that’s not how you normally interview people.”

There’s a pause as Brooke laughs back. Vanessa thinks over her question. “I don’t know. Guess I just didn’t want to come across like a showoff.”

“But it’s just a fact. You’re good,” Brooke shrugs. The praise makes Vanessa’s heart light up.

“An’ I guess I didn’t want the same as you. People fightin’ over me,” she shrugs back, making light of Brooke’s compliment. Brooke pulls a face.

“I don’t know about that, I think I’m going to have to fight off a couple of these girls if I want you,” she comments offhandedly, Vanessa suddenly feeling like she’d been shocked with a tazer. She’d been so focused on trying to charm the partner she wanted that she had no idea the celebrities would’ve been gunning for her too.

“Who wants to be partnered with me?” she asks, thinking retrospectively that she could’ve tried to appear a little less keen.

“Well, Asia’s making a bee-line, I know that much. And Willam was all smiles after she left you. And, I mean, I wouldn’t mind getting you either,” Brooke says, her last comment making Vanessa happier than it should.

“Wouldn’t mind? You’re gonna have to work harder than that,” Vanessa raises her eyebrows, faux-unimpressed. She has to slam her mouth shut at the end of her sentence to avoid tacking on a “baby” to the end of it. Jesus, what is wrong with her?

“You know they give us that card at the end where we write our top three partner choices on it,” Brooke continues. The fact she is trying so hard to come across as nonchalant is making her seem everything but, and Vanessa is loving it. “Hypothetically…would I be on yours?”

“Hypothetically? You might be,” Vanessa grins at her, spins round and misses the look that Brooke gives back at her. Is this flirting? She needs to stop.

“And, uh, hypothetically, of course, would I be first, second or third on that list?”

Vanessa looks to the ceiling, maintains the charade of not appearing overly keen. “At the moment, you are…third.”

Brooke’s face is so actively shocked that Vanessa bursts out laughing. “Third?! You bitch! Why?”

Vanessa composes herself. “Well first of all, I don’t know where you’re putting me on this list, girl, so I gotta hedge my bets. Second, I’m still trying to recover from wouldn’t mind, so that knocks you down a place. Also you just called me a bitch, so you’re now reserve-third.”

“If I told you you were first on my list, does that move me up a place?” Brooke smiles at her cheekily. Vanessa tries to keep a calm exterior and not show Brooke that she’s maybe-sort-of-a-little-bit melting at her words.

“You could. How do I know you’re telling the truth, though?”

Brooke shrugs a little. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

With that, Vanessa feels Brooke’s hand being ripped out of her own and coming to rest in between her shoulder blades, and suddenly she’s being dipped to the ground and brought back up again. She ends up pressed up against Brooke’s chest, her face tilted up to meet hers and her lips way too close to be good for Vanessa’s heart rate. She hears an impressed cry from someone- probably Monique or Akeria stirring the pot- and there’s a kind of hush that falls over the room in response to the move that’s a little bit more advanced than anyone was expecting.

“O-kay!” a producer exclaims, and Vanessa melts out of hold, only a little bit captivated. “If we could all switch round again, uh, I think we’ll have Aja with…Farrah-”

Brooke gives her a wink and a smile as she walks away towards Courtney who she’s been paired with next, and Vanessa attempts to compose herself as she gives a little wave back and tries to focus on Monet who she’s now in front of.

If things all ended up the way she wanted them to, this was going to be a very interesting season.

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shieldwinter · 3 years

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At the Garden [Stucky One-Shot]

So this was suppose to be a drabble but then it turned into a short one-shot and I’m not even sorry. To celebrate the NHL coming back, here is Steve taking Bucky to his first Rangers’ game! I am not a Rangers’ fan, so I apologise if anything about MSG or the team doesn’t line up. I tried to keep details of the game to a minimum. It also hurts that I had the Penguins’ lose, but I couldn’t have their first game together be a losing one!

Steve was having trouble containing his excitement as he and Bucky crossed the threshold into Madison Square Garden. In his hand, he held a ticket for the night’s Rangers’ game. A jersey rested on his person, the crest of the team over his chest, with Lundqvist being the name on the back. A Rangers’ hat concealed his hair, and hopefully offered him a bit of disguise.

He offered a glance back at Bucky, who was wearing a Rangers’ jersey himself, Panarin the name adorning it. Steve had picked up the jersey when he bought the tickets, knowing Bucky wouldn’t have something to wear, and wanting them both to blend into the crowd better. His hair was pulled back neatly, and when he caught Steve’s eyes, he offered a smile. “You’re excited,” he pointed out, and Steve felt himself flush, ducking his head down briefly, before focusing on walking through the metal detector, passing easily and handing his ticket off to be scanned. Bucky followed suit, and Steve watched closely as he passed through just fine — his now vibranium arm passing through undetected.

“I had a lot of free time when I wasn’t running missions. Football was never my thing, and with the Dodgers moving across the country, I kind of found myself liking hockey more and more. The dedication, and resilience the players have is unlike anything I’ve seen before,” he explained, stepping to join the crowd moving towards their section. Bucky made a humming noise as he fell into step beside Steve, their shoulders bumping once, then twice. “We had hockey when we were younger,” he supplied, an eyebrow raising as Steve let out a burst of laughter.

“We didn’t have the means to go to games back then, plus it was nothing like it is now. It’s fast, and exciting. Never a dull moment.”

Bucky was smiling at him. The smiles were coming easier for him, and Steve was so happy that he was on the receiving end of many of them. It made him feel elated, and an ease settled over him every time he got those lips to lift up. Up the escalator they went, rising into the upper bowl. The best seats in the place, if Steve had anything to say about it. Hockey was a game you could watch from any angle, but he preferred to be high up compared to sitting against the glass.

“We’re down against the rail,” Steve explained as he led the way to their section. When the usher asked if they needed help finding their seats, he waved him off, and set down the stairs that pitched at a steep angle. The chill off the ice rose up to them, even from this height. The grand scale of the arena opened up to them, the scoreboard at center ice, displaying the countdown to puck drop. When the two found their seats, they plopped down, and Steve breathed in a deep breath, feeling the chill used to keep the ice.

Bucky leaned into him slightly, and he pressed back, glancing over at the other. “It’s pretty,” he commented, eyes glancing around the arena, watching as people filed in to find their own seats. “Who are we playing?”

Steve glanced down at his program, looking at the cover where Chris Kreider was pictured mid-shot. “The Pittsburgh Penguins,” he answered, an eyebrow raising as he flicked pages to the team rosters, looking at the opponents. Bucky’s nose wrinkled, a sight Steve caught from the corner of his eyes. “Pittsburgh? They got a player named Malkin, yeah?”

Steve was surprised, his eyes blinking as he nodded. “Yeah, they do. How’d you know?” “He’s Russian,” Bucky replied simply, leaning over to stare at the roster page opened up, easily finding the player Evgeni Malkin on the page. “I remember hearing his name a few times. Same with other famous Russian ice hockey players. Datsyuk, Ovechkin, maybe a few others. I can’t remember completely.”

Steve felt himself wilt in his seat slightly. He was banking on showing Bucky the ins-and-outs of the sport, but it never occurred to him that he might know some things. Hockey was a famous sport in Russia, their history in the game incredibly important even in modern hockey. Some of the best players in the NHL today were Russian born, and it never crossed Steve’s mind that Bucky might have picked up a thing or two over the years. As if sensing his slight dismay, Bucky looked up at Steve with a signature smirk.

“Don’t get down. I don’t remember ever seeing a game. There’s definitely things I’m not gonna know, if I even know anything. I’m excited to see what’s going to happen, and I want to learn what your supposed new favourite sport has to offer.” And how could Steve not smile at that? He raised his hand to scratch at the back of his neck, and gave a quick shake of his head. “Nothing will beat baseball, but I’ll be caught dead before I’m a Yankees fan.”

He was greeted by a burst of laughter, which made a grin spread to his lips. “Better not, pal. I can forgive you for a lot of things, but that? I don’t think I could,” Bucky told, straightening back up into his seat as music began to play through the arena, signaling the players were about to skate onto the ice for their pregame warmup.

From there, it was a flurry of ups and downs, from puck drop to the ending buzzer. There was little time for the two to talk outside of intermissions, and even then, between standing in line to get food and an overpriced beer, to watching the screens on the scoreboard play intermissions games, and activities, talking of anything outside the game was small. Near the end of the first period a fight broke out, and Bucky rose out of his seat with a shout, and all Steve could do was watch, enamoured. There were great goals, great plays, and great stops on both sides. Crosby scored, followed by Rust in the first period, but Panarin clapped back with two goals himself early in the second. Bucky was grinning, standing to the goal song each time. In the third, it remained tied for most of the period — until with a little over two minutes left, Zibanejad shot from the point and went high shelf.

Steve rose with Bucky this time with a yell, clapping to the goal song with a grin splitting his cheeks. The crowd around them was loud, and that would be the last goal of the game, the Rangers coming out on too 3-2. It was all they could’ve asked for, a close, high paced game with a fight, and penalties on both ends. The adrenaline was high running even after they left their seats, after they got on the escalator down to the ground floor, and out into the cooling air of downtown Manhattan. Bucky seemed to have an ever present smile on his face since the last horn went off. When the crowd dispersed around him, he turned to face Steve, a shine in his eyes that hadn’t been there in a while.

“That was fantastic,” Bucky said, reaching out to grip at Steve’s forearm. “I loved every second. You were right, I can see why you took a shine to it.” Steve felt relieved with how much Bucky enjoyed himself. It was a gamble, that the bright lights and crowd wouldn’t be too much for him, but he was grateful he took that gamble. “I’m happy you enjoyed yourself. It helps that they won,” he responded, laying his hand over Bucky’s.

There was a moment, where they caught each other’s eyes and Steve’s breath was stolen, stuttering in his chest when Bucky leaned forward and rose up on his feet, to press a kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “Thank you,” he said, voice soft. “For thinking of me, and bringing me. I know you had your options open. Clint probably would’ve enjoyed it.”

Steve, flustered beyond belief, shook his head. “Nah, I bought these tickets with you in mind. You’re always gonna be my favourite plus one.” A softer smile this time, appeared on Bucky’s lips. One that was almost shy, one that was definitely reserved for just Steve.

“Damn right.” He responded, before dropping his hand to lace his fingers with Steve’s, and offering a tug, heading down to find themselves a taxi to take back to the tower. All Steve could think was that they had to do this again. They had to, because he wasn’t sure Bucky smiled this much in such a short span of time in so long.

#stucky #stucky fic #stevebucky #wintershield #starbucks #steve rogers #bucky barnes #captain america #the winter soldier

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lesbianmonsterlover · 5 years

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Female Orc x Female Reader (NSFW)

Orc Lady MMA fighter! This story contains drinking, swearing, professional fighting, and gratuitous smut. Forewarned is forearmed!

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Your family had always been avid watchers of what other humans would consider violent blood-sports. Modern cage fighting is an art, especially when you’re dealing with someone whose major mode of fighting is submissions and takedowns. There’s something incredibly thrilling about it, and considering they’re two consenting, sapient adults there’s nothing you feel guilty about when it comes to watching them fight each other.

Your sister-in-law, your brother’s wife, was having her first professional bout. She had started working at a BJJ gym when she moved to your city during college, before she ever met your brother. It isn’t that she had ever thought this is where her life would take her, she started taking classes in fact as a mode of self defense and a healthy physical outlet. Her being good at it came as a complete surprise to even herself.

Your brother was out of town on a business trip, a sad fact of life considering his profession and position within the company where he worked. Finance could be time consuming and thankless, but the paycheck he got from his work meant that Liz could pursue her new dream of going pro. As her sister now, and considering you’d always wanted a sister growing up, you took it upon yourself to support her whenever your brother couldn’t. You’d go to her bouts, cheer her on, go drinking when she won and when she lost, iced her bruises. You loved her like a true sibling.

So, when your brother couldn’t make her first big fight, you were incredibly flattered when she asked if you’d join her instead. You donned the tee shirt she had made for the fight with her fighter name on it and some sponsors, made sure you looked presentable enough for when you’ll inevitably wind up on camera with her, and settled in for the evening. Your day started hours before the doors opened, helping her get in the right headspace with music and jokes, helping her stretch out, keeping her calm and centered.

When the two of you made the trip over to the venue, a huge arena where the local professional basketball and hockey teams played, you were surprised to see people already waiting outside by the athlete’s entrance. You guessed they were hoping to catch a glimpse of the big names, but you knew enough about how these things were run to know that they wouldn’t arrive until at least a few fights into the undercard.

Liz’s fight was second to last on the undercard, so the house would likely be packed by that point. You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not, her placement on the card meant that more people would see her fight and therefore if she’s good enough in the cage tonight she’d get more followers and her pro career would start off on a great note. That being said, the performance anxiety of your first fight is hard enough you’d assume, if the way she’s been acting the last week is any indication, so making it harder on her by adding the pressure of a bunch of drunk, judgemental attendees doesn’t seem like it would be great.

The two of you traverse the back hallways, with passes that get you into the behind the scenes staging area. As one of the few women fighting tonight she was given a semi-private area to warm up and keep limber. All four of the undercard women were in the visitor’s locker room, although there had been privacy created with the use of moving screens that the maintenance crew had set up to create some relatively spacious individual cubicles. There was one main card title fight between two women, an orc defending her middleweight belt for the twelfth consecutive time and an upcoming athlete from Russia who was undefeated, those two each got their own private warmup space same as the men on the main card.

The two of you were the first ones here from Liz’s crew, a fact which amped her up and not in the good way. “Marcos said he’d be here at three, fuck me it’s already three fifteen, come on.” You pull her into a hug, smoothing your hands over the french-braided pigtails you’d helped her with earlier.

“Relax, sis, just relax. You know how the trains are at this time of year, if he isn’t here in the next twenty minutes I’ll call over to the gym and ask when he left, deal?” She huffs but nods against your shoulder, hugging you back. “Breathe with me, okay? Easy in, and out, nice and slow. You’ve got this, you’re going to go out there and kick some serious ass, and then we’re going to sit in our nice ring seats and celebrate by getting obliterated on vodka and soda like a normal Friday night.”

The laugh she gives you, shoving you away playfully, is what you were going for. “If you think I’m paying for the expensive garbage vodka they have here you’re out of your fucking mind.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, pulling up the side of your tee shirt to show a large-ish hip flask, the one she gifted you when she asked you to be a bridesmaid.

“We’ll have to supplement it with a few expensive drinks, so we don’t raise too many eyebrows, but you know me better than that by now.” She reaches for it and you swat at her hand, wagging your finger in her face like a caricature of a mother. “No, bad Lizzy, no drinking before fighting.” She pouts at you and you can only laugh at her. “How mature, which one of us is older again?”

“Yeah yeah, I hate when you’re right. At least give me some water, you don’t want me in there all dehydrated. Help, I’m wasting away right before your eyes, dying of thirst.” She’s comically flopped across her bench, arm slung across her face in despair. The ‘oof’ she gives when you gently lob her water bottle at her stomach makes your snort out a laugh.

“Come on, don’t abuse my fighters before their bout.” Your shoulder is clapped by a huge hand and you turn to find the bright smile of Marcos, Liz’s coach, and his brother Julian her cutman. Her third corner man won’t be joining you until closer to fight time, coming from his normal day job to help out in her corner as he does in their training ring. Marcos and Julian are both objectively incredibly handsome men, if a little rough from years of fighting experience. Tall Brazilian walls of muscle, with tan skin and long curly black hair. Julian would probably be considered better looking, if only because Marcos has some serious cauliflower ear going and one broken nose that wasn’t quite set properly. They’re both quite tall and fit, but not really your type considering they’re packing some equipment you’re not into using.

Marcos gives you a serious look, but still warm. “You’ve done a good job keeping her head clear and relaxed today, thank you.” Liz is busy chatting with Julian and getting properly stretched out, and Marcos keeps his voice quiet enough that they don’t overhear. “It’s going to make tonight go much smoother if we can help her focus on the fight and not everything surrounding it, so thank you.” You just blush and smile, waving it off.

“She’s my sister, I love her, I want her to go out there and kick some ass. So, anything I can do to help I’m happy.” He beams at you, patting your cheek with almost fatherly affection.

“Good, you remind me of my brother. We’ll have to start training you to be in the corner with us if you can keep her this calm on a big fight day.” You laugh, but when he declares he’s serious answer back that you’re absolutely willing, but today is not the day to start.

The next few hours are a blur of keeping Liz distracted enough that she can slip into her fight-brain as she calls it, and before you know it you’re place in ringside seats reserved for families to watch the bouts waiting for her entrance song. At the first few bars of ‘Knights of Cydonia’ you stand up and start to cheer. You’ve got your cell phone out and recording, knowing she’s going to want to see later, and you go wild as she finally steps out onto the arena floor and makes her way towards the cage. She ignores you as she passes, but you don’t take it personally knowing that she’s got tunnel vision for the door.

Her opponent Bryn is currently 1-1, a half-orc from a relatively prominent gym in a neighboring state. She looks intimidating, considering she’s a few inches taller that your sister in law, but where Liz isn’t as tall she’s consideribly stockier, and their reach is surprisingly near equal in terms of measurements.

You’re sure the referee for Liz’s bout is a half-dwarf, if the insanely impressive braided beard down to his navel is anything to go by. When his hand goes down between the fighters, Liz and Bryn tap gloves before getting into their stances. It’s a few seconds of sizing each other up before Bryn goes in, closing the gap. She sends out a pretty telegraphed jab and Liz blocks it without trouble, answering with a blow to Bryn’s ribs that connects. Grasping the back of Bryn’s head, Liz tugs down to force Bryn’s face to meet Liz’s knee.

When Bryn’s head pops back up she’s sporting a cut on her nose, and she’s starting to leak blood down her cheek. She grimaces at Liz and snarls, you suppose it’s meant to intimidate her but she obviously doesn’t know Liz very well. Liz just roars right back and goes in for a takedown.

Bryn, you suppose, is a striker, if her lack of takedown defense is anything to go by. When Liz goes for her leg Bryn is a step too slow to dodge, and goes down like a sack of bricks onto the canvas. You cheer loudly “‘atta girl!” and watch with rapt attention as Liz locks her legs around Bryn’s arm. The grip she has on Bryn’s hand and the way she tugs forces Bryn’s elbow back over Liz’s hip. Bryn taps, the bell rings. You scream. Victory by submission in the first round, not even a minute in. You’re almost cackling with joy as Liz does a celebratory lap around the ring before being hoisted up by her coach.

She thanks you in her post fight interview, and you look like a deer in the headlights when a camera gets trained on you and you’re up on the jumbo-tron. Oh god, not like this. You smile a little shyly and give an awkward wave before the feed cuts back to your sister in law and you can relax. When she leaves the ring she grabs you from the seat and pulls you back with them. “Holy shit!” That’s about all the two of you can say for the next few minutes as you help her untape her hands and brush out her hair. She’s changed into more normal clothes and the two of you are back out at your seats for the main card fights just as they’re announcing the winner of the final undercard bout.

“You were great out there, good fight. You locked in that arm bar quick like nobody’s business, that’s a natural talent.” You watch as your sister in law starts to converse with arguably the most gorgeous orc woman you’ve ever seen. She’s tall just sitting, you don’t even want to hazard a guess at how tall she is standing. Her long hair is side shaved, and pushed over the top of her head to expose the bare side and her pointy ear. The cauliflower ear tells you she’s a fighter even before you notice how incredibly muscular she is. She’s broad with huge biceps and traps, her breasts are a bit small for her frame and she hasn’t bothered with implants, and you want to know if she has abs. You bet she does. She and Liz are talking shop, and you’re trying not to stare at this hot, hot orc. Liz glances at you knowingly, she knows your type, and snags her arm around your shoulders to pull you in over her, introducing you.

“Ushat, this is my sister in law and constant cheer section.” You introduce yourself by name to Ushat, and she shakes your hand with her huge and calloused one. She looks like she’s blushing a little when you two make eye contact, so you try to hit her with your sweetest and most affectionate smile, the one that’s melted more than a few hearts in your time.

“It’s really nice to meet you Ushat.” She’s definitely blushing now, but she smiles at you gently.

“If you two want to hold hands you could just say so and switch seats with me.” Liz smirks at you, and the two of you just now realize how long you’ve been shaking hands for. You both pull away like the other one is on fire, cheeks hot and stuttering out apologies. “So Ushat here is the current women’s heavyweight champ.” You stare over at her with wonder, which makes the green in her cheeks get darker as she blushes harder.

“Ah, yeah, y’know. Been fightin’ for a loooong time. Kinda orcish culture. I’m impressed your sister here was able to take down that half orc so handily. I think my kind tend to underestimate humans because some of you are very cute and small.” She smiles a little at you, her impressive tusks flashing in the low light of the arena. Liz, for what it’s worth, looks incredibly smug. Self-satisfied barely begins to describe it, she’s been talking about setting you up on a date for a long time but this kind of takes the cake.

“Alright ladies, I’m going to get a round of drinks. You two be sitting next to each other when I get back or no more flirting, I don’t want to be between the two of you anyway ‘m gonna get diabetes, you’ll ruin my career before it’s even started.” She’s jokingly frustrated and shoves the side of your face with the kind of aggressive affection only a sibling can manage.

Ushat is still blushing a dark green, her lightly mossy skin made dark emerald with it. She slings one of her huge arms over the back of the now vacant chair where Liz had been sitting. With her free hand she gestures a little shyly at the now free seat, looking satisfied if a little surprised when you blushingly sidle up next to her. Your thigh is soft compared to hers, you’re pretty sure anyone is soft compared to her considering how close she’s pressed against you. The way her stance widens in the chair ensures that you’re pressed together from knee to hip, and she even relaxes her posture some to press up against your side, your shoulder neatly tucked underneath her arm, your head slotting onto her shoulder like you two were made for each other.

Liz’s grin goes almost impossibly wide as she sees the two of you while walking back. She doesn’t say anything though, knowing how shy you and Ushat have been so far in your interactions she doesn’t want to run the risk of scaring you two apart. So she passes the drinks around instead and proposes a toast to new friends, the little eyebrow waggle at the end she just could repress. You snort a little laugh into your cup but take a deep drink, sighing at the light burn of the double pour. “The bartender gave us an extra pour on top because of how badass I was.” Liz preens, and Ushat gives her a proud grin.

“Rudolf doesn’t do that for just anyone, so you’ve made a good impression. Unsurprising! That fight really was great.” The two continue to talk shop over you, but you can’t find it in you to mind too much. You enjoy listening to the deep timbre of Ushat’s voice, and before you know it you’ve finished your drink, topped off by a healthy pour from the flask at your side, and snuggled further into the warm side of the orc next to you. When they announce the first fight and the first of the two fighters starts to walk out to their music Ushat begins clapping. She doesn’t pull away from you though, or remove her arm, no she crosses her other arm in front of you to basically pull you into an embrace. She isn’t giving thunderous applause, just enough to be polite, but it does pull you further against her to the point that you have to brace yourself up with a hand on her side.

When she stops applauding after the second fighter has made it to the ring you don’t make any moves to pull back. You keep yourself snuggled into her side, one hand resting on her firm stomach while your head is leaned fully against her shoulder. You’re definitely getting past the tipsy stage and into the drunk stage, if how affectionate you’re feeling is anything to go by. The arm Ushat has behind you shifts so that you’re corralled in the crook of her elbow while her hand lifts to thread her fingers in your hair. She smiles down at you, and you can only grin back up at her.

The night is kind of a blur, although you and Ushat have gotten to know each other better. Sometime around the fourth bout of the main card they announce that she’s in the arena, and she’s thrown up on the jumbotron with you still tucked into her arm. While the majority of you is cut out of the main shot, the camera does manage to catch her pressing a kiss to the crown of your head when she thinks they’ve cut away.

It’s late by the time the fights are over, the orc having successfully defended her belt once again and declaring herself the greatest. Ushat is pleased, passing on her congratulations in orcish with her arm still around you as the fighter passes by. When she stands for the first time that night you realize how huge she really is, the top of your head just barely reaches her clavicle. She laughs loudly, palming your head and tugging you close again. “You’re so dainty!” She sounds amused, pulling your hand up against hers and holding them palm to palm the tips of your fingers only reaching the first knuckle of hers. “Look! I can almost close my hand!”

It’s such a smooth move you don’t actually recognize it for what it is until the day after, and when she does in fact close her hand she laces her fingers through yours. She tugs you around and you follow without protest, her and Liz having become fast friends and Ushat taking Liz to meet some promoters and sponsors. You feel a bit like arm candy, the conversation mostly above you but you’re happy that Ushat and Liz want you there with them. It’s nearly five in the morning when you all leave and the three of you are sufficiently trashed. The stumble back to your apartment is a short three blocks, and Liz takes the pull out couch as she’s used to.

You’ve stripped off your jeans and shirt, your bra undone and halfway off you when Ushat walks into your room having come out of the bathroom. You freeze with your bra pressed up against your breasts by your hands but otherwise unsecured, and you can’t help staring at how much smooth and scarred green skin she’s showing. She’s in a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and black bikini cut panties. The grin she fixes you with is sultry, her dark eyes burning. “Don’t stop on my account kitten.” Her eyes rake over your bare legs and the way your panties hug your form, lingering on the softness of your stomach before moving up your neck to your blushing face.

You bite your lower lip in contemplation before slowly lowering your hands and letting you bra drop to the floor. Ushat lets out a low and pleasure growl, almost humming. She stalks up to you, towering over you and gripping your chin between her thumb and forefinger. She stoops down to kiss you, and with a satisfied moan you slip your hands up her chest and over her shoulders to cling to her. Her huge hands caress up the back of your thighs and she takes advantage of your distraction to pick you up and toss you on the bed. She’s hypnotized by the way your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress, and she brings her hands up to cup them. Thumbing over your nipples she grins as you let out a whine of pleasure.

Ushat kisses you again, and the smooth cool surface of her tusks pressed against your soft cheeks. You surprise her by swiping your tongue along her lower lip first, and she opens her mouth to meet your tongue with her own. They caress each other, rather than wrestling for dominance, and when you lay back and allow her to explore your pliant mouth she knows it’s willing and not coerced.

One of her hands continues to grope and your breasts sloppily, moving back and forth with her attention as her other hand pushes down your stomach and under your panties. You tug your lips from hers to throw back your head and cry out for her. “Fuck, Ushat!” She chuckles huskily against your neck when you cry out for her.

“That’s the idea kitten, don’t worry ‘m’gonna take good care of you.” When her fingers push between your labia she finds you already wet and waiting, and she snarls against your neck. “Fuck baby, you been ready for me all night haven’tcha?” She bites down on your shoulder, chuckling again as your hips buck up into her hand. “Ushat knows whatcha want baby, I gotcha.” One of her thick, calloused fingers slowly pushes into your waiting pussy. She groans at how hot and tight you feel around just one of her fingers. “Fuck baby, you got a real tight pussy, gonna stretch you out nice and good.” She licks up your neck wetly, biting harshly at your earlobe as she pushes a second finger into you, angling her hand to rub your clit with her thumb. You let out a broken cry, tugging at her shirt in order to press against her skin on skin.

In order to avoid having to stop fingering you, she just tears off her shirt, leaving the tatters on the floor nearby as she smashes her lips against yours again. Your hands grope at her strong back and shoulders before moving around to her front, skimming up to palm her small breasts. Her dark nipples are begging for your mouth, and as if she knows what you’re thinking she shifts her position just enough to be leaning completely above you, fingers pumping in and out of your soaking pussy. She groans when you lift your head enough to take one of her nipples in your mouth, sucking gently and flicking your tongue over the hardened bud.

She moves so her hips are just above yours, her legs splayed between yours and wrapped around your own so that you couldn’t close them even if you wanted to. She slowly leans down until you’re completely flush with her, held in control as she fingers your eager pussy. She has you pinned with her weight to the point where you can do literally nothing but moan and accept whatever it is she wants to give you. The broken sob of her name as she presses a third of her impossibly thick fingers inside of you makes her laugh, satisfied. She kisses the crown of your head, whispering praises. “Don’t worry baby, we’ll stop here for tonight, but eventually that cute little human pussy of yours is going to take my whole hand.” The way you twitch around her at the words makes her chuckle against your hair. “You like that thought huh kitten? At least this needy pussy of yours does.” She shoves her fingers in particularly harshly, making you moan and your eyes roll back in your head.

She starts rubbing her thumb over your clit again, and your walls begin to flutter with the stimulation. “That’s it kitten, cum for me, gonna make you feel so good baby, that’s it.” You’re panting under her, trying to writhe or buck your hips or do literally anything, but Ushat just chuckles at your shifting muscles pinned under hers. “No baby just take it, you’re gonna take what I give you kitten. Be a good girl and cum for me.”

The way she growls that last sentence in your ear, paired with the endless stimulation of your clit and those thick rough fingers inside you, takes you over the edge. You cry out her name and tense underneath her, muscles screaming to contract or do anything. All your body can focus on is the feeling between your legs, considering it can’t do anything else with its excess energy. You can’t believe when you squirt against her hand, but she just gives a satisfied growl and slowly brings you back down to earth.

You’re half asleep by the time your heart rate calms down, and you notice Ushat is trying to climb out of bed. You pout up at her sleepily, grabbing her huge wrist. “Stay? Please? I know this was fast but I was kinda hoping you’d stick around.” She just grins at you, using her cleaner hand to thumb your cheek with open affection.

“Just gettin you a towel, kitten. Gotta clean you up.” She wanders half naked into the bathroom and brings back a damp hand towel to wipe up between your thighs, gently cleaning your labia with the warm cloth. She tosses the towel across the room into your laundry hamper and crawls back into the bed behind you. She pulls you back against her chest, wrapping you up in her warm embrace and burying her nose in your hair at the crown of your head.

You aren’t sure when you fell asleep, quickly seems to be the answer. You wake up to your bed shaking, and you whimper and cling closer to the pillow that seems to be jumping. It calms down slightly, still vibrating but less destructive. “Sorry kitten, go back to sleep.” You crack open an eye and glance up at just the right time to get a kiss on the forehead from Ushat, who stayed the full night with you.

She’s on her Instagram, posting a picture of the two of you from last night along with Liz. “Whatcha doin’?” Your sleepy voice makes her smile gently.

“Gettin’ some damage control done. I’m not about to have people accusing me of being ashamed of my girlfriend.” She flicks over to an article on some MMA site where the still of her placing a kiss to your head ringside is front and center. ‘Ushat Cruelbeast Spotted Getting Cozy With Fighter’s Sister!’ is the headline, and you snort. Really? So uncreative. “I like you, a lot, I want to date you. I don’t want people thinking I’m just using you to get under some other figher’s skin. Which is fucking ridiculous by the way, I mean we’re not even close to the same weight class and never will be, so why would I be dating you to get under the skin of a figher I’d never fight? Fuckin’ hetero dudes can’t fathom why a human girl might want to date a big scary orc girl. Or why a girl would want to date another girl at all really.”

Your laugh makes her laugh, and the two of you are cracking up in bed. It takes a few minutes to calm down and you find yourself draped over her chest while you rest your chin over her heart, looking up at her earnestly. “I don’t think you’re scary. I mean, you’re for sure huge, but you aren’t scary at all. You know the first thing I thought when I saw you was some variation of ‘oh no she’s too hot, I can’t talk to her, she’s way too hot.’” She snorts and buries her face into your hair, apparently her favorite thing to do whenever you embarrass her.

“Come on pretty kitty, let’s get dressed and join your sister for breakfast. Then, ‘m gonna go home and get changed to take you on a proper date. And then, kitten, we’re gonna start workin’ on that promise I made you last night.” Your answering whimper makes her laugh, and she stands while hefting you up over her shoulder. “Come on kitten, unless you want your sister walkin’ in and finding us like this.” She emphasizes her statement with a firm slap to your ass, making you laugh. This might be the best morning ever.

#Female Orc #Fem Orc #Female Reader #Fem Reader #WLW #Lesbian Love #Lesbian Fiction #my writing #exophilia

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gustafsnightangel · 4 years

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On Pointe Chapter 2

She was stretched out alone on the floor when Gustaf came into the studio. A leg out either side of her and her chest flat to the floor. He glanced at her and felt his heart plummet. How the fuck was he going to get through this.

“Good morning.” He said quietly not really wanting to disturb her routine. He was less anxious today but still equally as nervous.

“Good morning. Ready?” She asked and sat up from the lateral split she was in and continued to stretch.

“As I’ll ever be.” He chuckled and slipped on the shoes Aidan had given him.

“Come and stretch out.” She said patting the floor in front of her. “Don’t dance cold. It will be the biggest mistake you’ll ever make.”

She looked at the arched eyebrow as he sat down and smiled.

“Believe me you only pull your groin muscle once to never ever want to do it again.” She said honestly. “And I have it on good authority that it’s worse for guys.”

“It is. Been there before, don’t plan to revisit it anytime soon.” He smiled shyly.

He folded himself up and sat across from her. They went through a group of warmup stretches at her instruction. He snuck glimpses of her as she stretched. The more he watched her move the more he wanted to get his hands on that petite frame and rock her world. And he tried desperately to wipe those thoughts from his head as he needed to focus.

“The first few lessons will be pretty mundane, but we have to get through them to get to the good stuff you’ll actually need.” She said and he felt his heart leap as she locked eyes with him. Stormy blue grey looked back.

“I’m in your hands.” He said and couldn’t help but smile at the shy smile she gave him at his comment. Did she feel the energy between them or was it just his wishful thinking and vivid imagination he thought?

Not yet you’re not she dreamed wistfully but give me time. Yeah right, like it’s going to happen, she thought bitterly. “Stand up.” She directed.

He did and had to stifle a groan looking down at the raven haired beauty sitting on the floor looking up at him.

“Did you read the books Aidan gave you?” She asked.

“Yes, I’ve been rereading them to stay focused.” He said. It also took his mind off of the gorgeous little thing at his feet.

“So first position.” She started and his feet tried to go to where they were supposed to illustrated in the book.

He felt her hands on top of his feet and then her thumbs indicate where he needed to move them to.

“Your weight should be evenly distributed.”

“That’s murder on your knees.” He said once she’d pushed his feet out.

“Rotate your pelvis if your knees are hurting.” She said.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t understand. This really was a new language.

“You’re currently leaned over looking at your feet. Spine straight, shoulders back, pelvis in.” She instructed and stood in one fluid motion.

She was so tiny compared to his towering frame, he thought, and had an air of fragility about her. She moved behind him and he felt those slender hands gently grip his shoulders. Her grip was gentle but he could feel the strength and power under it.

“These back.” She said softly and guided his shoulders so he wasn’t slumped. “And down.”

“Straighten your spine.” She ran a hand down the length of his spine resting it at his lower back. The muscle that kissed her fingers through his shirt sent thrills through her body.

Gustaf knew she was instructing but she had an erotic touch all the same.

“Pelvis should be aligned too, not tucked under, not sticking out. Once everything is where it should be your knees will feel better.”

“They do already.“ He said softly and didn’t want her hand to leave his lower back where it was resting.

“Now for arms, because you’re going to fall over otherwise.” She said. “Arms are your balance.”

She gripped him under the biceps near the elbow and urged him to lift them to where they needed to be. Her hands on his bare skin shot fire to his belly. That intensified as she moved to position his wrists, slender fingers spread over his as she positioned his hands.

“Think of it like you’re holding a beach ball. This will also help keep your shoulders where they need to be.” She said and gently swiped her and across them again and watched as he released them.

“Don’t tense.” She instructed and he had to consciously remind himself drop his shoulders.

“Dancing is mechanical, body mechanics. Things need to be aligned or held a certain way for it to work effectively. That’s something I can’t teach you in the time we have.” She said and came around to the front to face him. “Just trust me and know it’s done for a reason because it works.”

His gaze was intense she thought and those eyes held hers. He was not only soaking in everything she said he was pulling her in under his spell.

“Feel better?” She asked and he nodded not quite ready to trust his voice.

“Good.” She dropped to the floor and they went over second position. She needed to look down at his feet and not at those eyes that spoke so much.

“Second position is the same thing really but there’s more space between your heels. They should be hip width apart.”

She looked up to see him looking down at her, a slight smile on those lips she wanted to kiss.

“Stand up straight. Eyes front. If your eyes are down looking at your feet, you’ll fall down when we go to move.” She said and smiled when his head snapped up to look forward.

He contained the grin. She had caught him staring at her, and he found he didn’t give a shit. He wanted to look at her, wanted her to know he was looking at her, and he felt less anxious if he did.

“Ok relax.” She said and he took a step back.

She watched him bend his legs and shake the stiffness out at the newness of what his muscles had to learn.

“You’re going to feel this tomorrow.” She said gently. “If you have a tub in your room I suggest you soak in it each night for the next week or so.”

“Will it be that bad?” He asked, his voice was a low rumble which she found comforting.

She shrugged. “I don’t know it’s different for everyone. You’ll feel it in your lower back and hamstrings for sure. You’re using muscles in a different way so the body will rebel for a while until it gets used to it.”

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before tearing her eyes from his and continuing.

“Third, fourth, and fifth positions are harder.” She said and effortlessly went into third position.

“You made that look like a cake walk.” He chuckled stepping toward her.

“For me it is.” She smiled and bit her lip again. “But I have a few years on you.” In more ways than one she thought. Stop flirting she cursed inwardly he doesn’t see you that way.

“So, left foot toes that way.” She said pointing. “And right foot toes that way.” She said pointing in the opposite direction and then sat at his feet. “Ankle bones together.”

“There should be no gap between your feet.” She said and corrected him. She could feel him wobble. “Stand up straight, eyes front.” She smirked and heard his chastisement at himself for not remembering.

She stood and repositioned his arms and the wobble subsided.

“Wow.” He said quietly as the wobble stabilized.

“Arms are as important as feet.” She said gently.

“A great teacher is important too.” He broke out of the position and looked at her.

“You won’t be saying that tomorrow morning when you wake up and your legs ache.” She chuckled.

Problem was he was already aching. For her. But he thought best not to mention that on the first day.

“Fourth is similar.” She continued and sat at his feet once again.

“If this hurts too much tell me and we’ll ease you into it. This can hurt your knees and ankles a bit when you first start.”

“It’s fine for now.” He said and couldn’t help but look at her sitting there. Long slender legs stretched out either side of her, intent fingers resting on his feet. He felt his mind slip to fantasies of this gorgeous little thing kneeling before him as he took her.

“Go into third for me and hold it there.” He snapped out of it and did as she asked feeling her fingers on his feet correcting him again.

“Bring this foot forward slightly and to the left.” She guided him to where she wanted his foot.

“Take a look at where your feet are a moment.” She said and he looked down to see his front foot not quite aligned, and this tiny woman staring up at him. He had to stifle the groan.

“Your foot isn’t in line with the other one, see?” She pointed and moved slightly so he had a full view. “When it’s aligned with the back foot.” She pushed his front foot to where it needed to be, seeing the slight wince she backed off. “We call this turn out.” She let it go and his foot seemed to spring back to where it was originally without his consent.

“Stand up straight, eyes front.” She reminded him and he did as he was asked as she stood in front of him.

“Arms are here.” She said softly and moved them to where she wanted them.

She looked down and he almost had it.

“It’s almost there for someone starting as an adult. You only get good turn out if you’ve trained your joints from an early age, or you’re a freak of nature.” She said and heard the low chuckle.

“Which one are you?” His tone was one that turned her brain to mush.

“Both.” She breathed softly.

She could hear him breathe, smell the scent of him and almost went weak at the knees. The heat radiating off him made her want to curl up on his lap and snuggle the day away with those arms around her. She snapped out of it when he took a step back, not able to hold it any longer.

“We can try fifth but it may hurt.” She said composing herself.

Where did your mind go just now lovely lady he wondered? He saw her zone out for a moment then reign it in.

“How old were you when you stared?” He asked gently.

“Two. My mother was a dancer so it was destined for me I guess.” She shrugged.

“Fifth is fourth but feet together.” She continued as if he hadn’t asked the question. Painful memory there he thought.

He got into fourth and with a gentle nudge of her foot he was in fifth.

“Arms here.” She said quietly as she placed them where they needed to be.

She could feel his breath on the top of her head and secretly wished he would just wrap her in his arms. She liked the feel of them under her fingers and secretly wondered how they’d feel around her. He was fit and honed, strong but not buff strong like most stars did just for show. Defined, honed, he worked at it.

“Relax your shoulders.” She said softly.

“Sorry.” He muttered.

“Don’t worry, I still have to remind myself not to do that when I’m stressed.” She said still feeling the anxiety roll off him again in waves.

He held it for as long as he could before taking a step back and shaking his legs out.

“Walk a little. It’ll help.” She said and walked to the chair where her water was.

Aidan stuck his head in to see how things were going and then disappeared apparently happy with Everly’s report. Gustaf just sent him a happy smile and a wave. He was in good hands but she was right. He was going to feel this tomorrow. His knees were already starting to stiffen.

“Alright lets get to the good stuff.” She said and walked to the barre.

“This is your new best friend.” She said patting the barre. “Barre, Gustaf. Gustaf, Barre.” She smiled at his chuckle as she introduced the barre to him.

“You can death grip the barre and you won’t break anything. My fingers not so much. Also you’ll need more than a 100 pound weakling to support you and help you balance for the next few weeks.”

“This is where feet and arm positions and movement will come together.” She continued. “You learn it here first.” She said tapping the barre. “Then we move it out there.” She pointed to the vast openness of the dance floor.

“We’ll go though the basics with the feet positions we’ve learned today and see how we go.” She positioned his hand on the barre.

“Your hand should be lightly sitting on the barre as opposed to a death grip but if you’re going to over balance or fall, grip away.”

This was where it started to fall apart for him. The two left feet had decided to pay a visit, the anxiety that he’d kept in check decided to surface, and the self doubt he had overcome year ago clawed it’s way back to the surface.

She could see him struggle. It was a lot to take in on the first day but they had to hit it hard and fast. Six months wasn’t a long time to learn what he had to learn before filming.

She stopped when she saw his frustration with himself get the better of him. The anxiety starting to overwhelm him.

“Stop a moment.” She said gently and placed her hand over his at the barre. “Grab a drink, walk a little, come back when you’re ready to go again.”

His eyes snapped to hers as her touch startled him. He didn’t want her to let go. Her touch gave him a sense of calm.

“You can’t learn it all in a day Gustaf.” She said softly, reading him like a book. “Just like I can’t teach you thirty years of dancing in six months.”

“I feel a little stupid.” He chuckled nervously, his heart was pounding, he was only holding onto his composure by a thread. “Get a little frustrated with myself that I can’t do it.”

“You shouldn’t. Dancing at this level is like learning a new language. You have to learn the basics before you can do anything else. You’re not stupid, far from it actually, so you shouldn’t feel like you are. You’re doing fine.”

He nodded. He gripped the barre and leaned in closer to her.

“Thank you.” He murmured and softly kissed her temple and lingered a little too long. “The last thing I want to do is fuck this up.” And he meant it in more ways than one.

“I’ll be the first to tell you.” She said softly suddenly not quite sure of herself at his kiss.

He walked out to stretch his legs and have a bathroom break. What the fuck you idiot, he mouthed in the mirror in the men’s room. Had he just blown his chance with her? He paced the bathroom, anxiety flooding out of him, scrubbing his hands over his head. What the fuck was he thinking kissing her? He stared himself down in the mirror and mentally kicked his own ass at his stupidity.

He came back into the room around twenty minutes later to music and Everly in full solo. He sat and watched. The intense focus she had and the effortless movement captivated him.

He watched her feet and tried to pick the positions each time she landed or changed as she moved. Saw how she held her arms, the seamlessness of one movement into the other. She made it look as easy as breathing.

He watched as she fumbled, cursed, and picked it up after walking a few steps. He could watch her for hours.

His kiss had caught her off guard, dancing had helped clear her mind of it. She tried not to read too much into it, like the way his scruff tickled her skin, those lips so tender against hers. She stumbled on a step and cursed.

“Not helping.” She mumbled to herself hands on her hips. Picking up the bar in the music she started again.

It could have simply been a thank you for the break. The guy was stressed, nervous, and anxious all rolled in together and probably just needed some time to collect himself.

She would have to keep an eye on that and make sure he had regular breaks. She sometimes forgot that people weren’t like her and could go for the entire day without stopping.

Letting her mind run away with it wasn’t the best plan either. It was a simple thank you, nothing more she told herself. Don’t get your hopes up and your heart broken.

She stopped and from where he sat he could see she was barely out of breath. That calm control she had was incredible. Laser focus, control, no fear. Absolutely no fear.

“That was amazing.” He said gently.

“Oh sorry I didn’t realize you were back or I would have stopped.” She said and walked over to her water.

“I don’t mind. I know you probably have a million things to practice instead of teaching this fool how to not step on his own toes.” He said and went to stand near her.

“I can practice while I teach, in the breaks at least. Ready?” She asked keeping it short, not daring to make eye contact.

“Sure am.” Fuck he thought. He’d blown it.

“Ok so let’s stick with first and second positions for the rest of today. Once you feel comfortable with those we can move on.” She said.

She faced him so he could mirror what she was doing. He still got frustrated with himself, the anxiety had finally consumed him. At one point she stopped him again and let his brain catch up.

“Take a breath.” She said gently. “From here.” She said and placed her hand on his abdomen. Solid muscle greeted her.

He closed his eyes and looked to the ceiling for a few reasons. Her hand on his abs was the first, not getting a boner because her hand was on his abs the second, containing the panic attack was the third, and breathing to lessen the frustration of his feet not wanting to do as they were told was the last on his shopping list of emotions.

“Better?” She asked.

“Yep.” He said and breathed out slowly.

Her hand slipped away and he suddenly felt very alone.

“It’ll get better.” She said softly watching him. “First days are always hard.”

That’s not all that’s hard he thought.

“Yeah.” He sighed out.

“Let’s call it a day.” She said gently. “I think I’ve beaten you up enough.” She smirked and it got the chuckle she was after.

“Cool down.” She said and pointed to the floor.

They stretched out and he settled again. He just had to get his head around it all, dancing and his sudden feelings for her.

“See you tomorrow?” She asked as she stood.

“Of course.” He went to stand but she gestured him to stay on the floor.

“Stay and finish cooling down. I need to move and warm up for rehearsal.” She chuckled.

“Can I watch?” He asked and saw her hesitate.

“Sure. But it’s nothing special. No sit.” She laughed and waved him back down. “I’ll warm up around you.”

He watched in wonderment as she stretched at the barre. That lithe body bending and contorting in ways that made his head hurt. She had zoned him out, to her, he was just a body sitting on the floor.

She started the music from earlier and set herself. She had to get him out of her mind.

He saw the breath that calmed her, the one that settled her mind, and the one that set her focus. He would make it a point to ask her how she did that so quickly.

She danced around him and he was sure his mouth was gaping open. Graceful, beautiful, strong. The music changed and her hands rested at his shoulders as she continued. He straightened remembering to be strong for her to lean on.

“Relax.” She breathed in his ear as she did a full penche.

Her hand at his shoulder, her breath ticking his ear. She intoxicated him. Every word, every look, every touch.

The music changed again and she stopped.

“You’re incredible.” He said getting to his feet.

“Practice.” She said breathing heavy.

“You make it look so easy.” He said standing next to her.

“Practice.” She said again chuckling. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yes you will.” He said collecting his coat. “Thank you.” He said as she went to leave. “For keeping me focused, talking me off a ledge.” He looked at her and those grey eyes found his.

“That’s what I’m here for. You’ll be fine. First day remember.” She said gently. “I have to go. Tomorrow, same time.”

“I’ll be here.” He said and watched her go.

The following day he was warming up before she walked in. He wasn’t going to fuck up her schedule by being late. It was also the one thing Aidan had insisted on, don’t mess with the schedule.

He watched her enter in a whirl. She was running late and it had flustered her.

“I’m so sorry, our class ran over.” She said tossing her bag on the chair harshly and shucking her coat.

She grabbed her slippers and sat in front of him with a flop. He watched her jam her feet in them and hurry to lace them. Deft as her fingers were they were shaking slightly. He placed his hand over hers and she jolted looking at him.

“Take a breath.” He said softly returning the favor she’d given him yesterday. She blew a breath out and smiled. “It’s fine. Class is more important right now. I know you have a production coming up and this takes up time you don’t really have.”

“Still doesn’t make it right.” She said tying the knot in the ribbon and tucking the ends back in on themselves.

“Everly.” He said and she looked into those Nordic blue eyes and was lost. “It’s fine.” He squeezed her hand tenderly and let her finish getting her slippers on.

“Thank you.” She said quietly. “How are you feeling after yesterday?” She asked as he watched her deftly lace the other slipper. It was all muscle memory she’d done it enough times.

“A little stiff and sore but I’m good.” He said stretching out some more.

“The soak in the tub helped.” He chuckled and she nodded.

“Good.” She said and she stretched out.

He stood up and offered her a hand. She took it tentatively, his large hand enveloping hers. His touch sent an unexpected jolt through her.

“Shall we?” She smiled and started toward the barre. He gestured a hand to lead on. He was like no one else she had ever met. She didn’t quite know how to respond to him.

They went through most of the of what they had covered yesterday. He tried to keep his frustration down but after an hour of battling his own stupid feet he was tense and his anxiety had surfaced again. He tried breathing through it but it just wasn’t happening.

“Keep going.“ She said gently and she moved behind him.

He ground his teeth and kept going even though he was messing it all up.

“Breathe.” She said softly and her hand reached around and pressed where it had yesterday. “From here. To here.”

He shoved the erotic feelings aside and got his breathing under control focusing on her hand. That petite slender hand he wished would drift a little lower.

“Relax you’re shoulders.” Her hands moved to brush across his shoulders and down his arms taking all the tension with it.

“Straighten your spine.” Her hand ran the length of his spine and rested at the small of his back. He could feel the warmth of her palm through his shirt and it focused him.

“You’re doing fine.” She said and he snorted. “You are. Second day remember.”

He fumbled, stopped, and sighed. “I always forget that one.”

“Stop a moment.” She said, he did but she kept her hand where it was at the small of his back.

“Choreography is like a script. Arm and feet positions are it’s words.” She said quietly still behind him.

“How do you learn your script for a film?” She asked.

“By reading it, acting it out over and over again until it sticks.” He answered and saw where she was going with it.

“Dance is the same. Repetition. You learn where your feet and arms need to be, essentially what the words are in a script. Then you learn where they all connect together, to create you’re lines, then flow from one to the other to create your scenes. You can’t have one without the other and you can’t jump to scenes without learning your lines.”

“Start again.” She said softly and he started from the beginning.

“It takes time Gustaf. Dance takes a little more time to make it flow as well as words do from a script because you’re learning the alphabet again, be patient with yourself. You’re teaching your body something new.”

He kept going even through the mistakes. She corrected him as they went. Her hands guiding his arms, her feet occasionally moving his with her own. When she wasn’t correcting him her hand barely left his lower back.

As he progressed her corrections got less. He seemed to settle with her hand there. It grounded him, she grounded him.

“Better.” She said finally and her hand dropped away leaving him feeling suddenly very alone.

“Felt better.” He said honestly.

“Time and repetition.” She said and came to stand in front of him again.

“I’ll be doing them in my sleep.” He chuckled.

“I do.” She laughed.

“Well that’s understandable, you breathe it.” He smiled.

She shrugged. “Breathe it, eat it, sleep it.” She chuckled.

“Let’s look at third through fifth. We’ll go slow, they’re a little trickier.” She said and saw his shoulders rise as he tensed. She would deal with those in a moment.

They went through the sequence and he stood just trying to mirror her. He felt the frustration come and tried to will it away.

“Breathe.” She said softly. “One step at a time. Let’s break it down, third position.”

They went through it a dozen times then did fourth and fifth positions.

“Want to try the whole sequence again?” She asked.

“Yes.” He said and willed his limbs to cooperate.

He mirrored her again and after many missed steps and fumbles she stood behind him.

“Breathe from here.” Her hand rested on his abs.

“Relax you’re shoulders.” Her hands brushed across them and down his arms.

“Straighten your spine.” Her hand rested at the small of his back and he settled.

She saw a pattern developing. She’d use it to get him through this but damn it if she didn’t want to let her fingers roam. They ached to touch him.

By the end of their lesson he was sure of two things, he was almost through the sequence with minimal mistakes, and wanted this woman like his next breath.

“Really good. Want to try all five and see how you go?”

“Sure.” He shrugged.

She stayed where she was hoping the hand at his back helped. He took it really slowly but he got through with only a few mistakes and fumbles.

“Progress.” She said gently. “Forward progress. Feel good?” She asked.

“Yeah, feels good.” He smiled.

“For just two days you’re doing great.” She smiled at him.

“I have to confess.” He said leaning in slightly. “I have a really good teacher.” He whispered and winked at her.

“Well to be honest, you’re making it pretty easy for me.” She said and nearly melted at his feet when he winked at her.

“Good.” He nodded. “I’m still scared I’m going to crush your toes.” He mumbled and she chuckled.

“I have more of a chance at doing that to you than you do to me. I’ll explain more when we get to that.” She said at his quizzical look.

“Cool down.” She instructed. “How you feeling?” She asked as they sat.

“Not bad.”

“Soak again tonight.”

“Oh I will be.” He chuckled. “I try and do the same thing when we have weapons training.”

She nodded. “Dancing is a similar thing to swordplay when you think about it. And I should have put that together much earlier.” She smiled rolling her eyes at herself for not connecting the dots.

“Well shit I didn’t even think about that until now.” He laughed.

They stretched in silence for a moment. Until she rose to warm up and dance again.

“Can I stay?” He asked and fidgeted with his fingers in his lap.

“Sure of you want.” She said and moved to turn on the music. She smiled to herself and chewed on her bottom lip. This was a habit she could get used to, but wouldn’t. He’s not staying, she repeated in her head. Don’t get attached.

It was the same as yesterday and his eyes followed her intently drinking her in. He stayed seated hoping she would lean on him like yesterday. She did and his heart melted.

Those slender hands rested lightly on his shoulders and he felt her lean in as she executed the arabesque, her mouth dangerously close to his cheek. His heart tripped over itself when she was this close.

He was learning all the names for each move and would try to pick them out as she did them.

He smiled as the music changed and she stopped. He was hoping this would become a habit for her, for them.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asked and she nodded as she slammed down the water.

“I’ll try not to be late this time.” She said and smiled at him from under her lashes.

“I can always practice until you get here.” He said and stood.

“There’s always practice.” She said smiling and headed for the door. “Bye.”

He liked it when she smiled. It lit up her face and brightened his day.

“Bye.” He said and watched her disappear to rehearsal.

He wanted to go watch the rehearsal but thought it best to wait until they were in tech. He didn’t want to be a distraction and he wanted to ask her first.

#gustaf skarsgard #all the feels #On Pointe Ch 2

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pucks-no-fucks · 5 years

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Work Friends: Sidney Crosby X Reader

Authors Note: This took WAY too long for me to write and it’s kind of scrambled and I don’t like it but I can’t tell if it’s because it’s bad or I just think it’s bad. However it’s here! And I have officially gotten every request in my inbox done! So send some requests in please❤️

Summary: Crosby meets reader for the first time, only to find out she’s close to the other boys and he gets jealous as a result.

Warnings: I think there’s a curse, short argument (ish?) and that’s it! :)

Requested: Yes | No

@bladihel

Word Count: 1,743 words

Your job was simple and fun. Working at PPG paints arena was always fun. Fun. It made you cringe thinking about it. You were an ice girl. Why it made you cringe wasn’t something you could give an answer for. Maybe you didn’t have the body to be one or the talents, yet here you were.

It was the home opener. First game of the season for Pittsburgh was home and that made your insides flutter. Being an ice girl made you cringe. Being an ice girl for the Pittsburgh Penguins made you ecstatic. The arena wasn’t far, but you left early today. You wanted to take in the gorgeous arena and enjoy it. Your bag hung over your shoulder as you walked through the doors. Showing your pass they allowed you to walk around.

The concessions were preparing and the 50/50 crew was chatting it up. You smiled and went to walk past the locker rooms. You smiled and walked to head to the ice crews locker room. You bumped into someone and lost footing. You screwed your eyes shut in preparation for impact. Before you hit the ground a hand had already firmly grasped your arm and pulled you back on your feet.

“I’m sorry I should of watched where I was going”, they told you. You opened your eyes and there was Sidney Crosby.

“No no, I wasn’t paying attention that was my fault”, you stammered. He smiled at you. Sidney fucking Crosby just smiled at you.

“Really, it was my fault”, he insisted.

“I’ll take half the blame if you do”, you said quietly.

“I think I can live with that”, he told you with a big smile.

His smile made your stomach erupt into butterflies. He didn’t let go of your wrist.

“So, what brings you here?”, he asked you trying to make conversation.

“Just looking around on my way to the locker room”.

He turned on his heel and started walking with you. “You’re part of ice crew”?

You nodded. “Yep, I joined late last year”, you took a glance at him. He was focused ahead of him. “Your focused this time around”, you said with a nudge.

He laughed and nudged you back, “Maybe I should loose focus again, I might run into another pretty girl”. He winked but kept walking with you.

Your face went red. You reached the ice and your mouth gaped at everything going on. The preparation and the behind the scenes. “Wow Mr. Crosby this is just- wow”, you said in amazement.

“Mr. Crosby really”? You turned around to see his hands on his hips and his face painted with amusement.

“What am I supposed to call you? Sidney?”, you laughed and went to stand in front of him. His eyes glistened with mischief.

“Or-“, he was cut off by another voice.

“Y/N?”, Sidney turned around allowing you to look and see. Letang and Malkin were standing there.

“Oh my god!”, you squealed and ran up to them, hugging them both.

“How’s Alex and Victoria? And how’s Nikita”? Sidney stood behind you shocked.

You made small talk with the boys and walked with them back into the locker room. Sidney stayed quiet. The two hugged you and walked into their locker room. Sidney stood with you, burning holes into their backs.

“You look upset, are you okay?”, you whispered. The air was thick.

“Yes”, he said sharply. He looked at his watch and back at you. “I have to go”, he forced through his teeth. He opened the doors of the locker room and rushed in.

He left you standing in shock. Did Sidney Crosby really just do that?

When Sid walked in the boys were talking about you, glad that you became a permanent member of ice crew. It gave him a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Sid you okay”, Geno called to him. Sid hadn’t even realized how angry his face looked and how roughly he was tying his skates.

“Yes Geno”, he seethed. Geno gave him a look but continued preparing to go on the ice.

“She’s really pretty”, Jake told Letang. Letang laughed and punched his shoulder gently.

“Ask her out then”, he teased.

Sid stood up and walked out of the locker room abruptly. He was half dressed and everyone gave him a look.

Sidney was going to get to you first. He heard the boys call after him but he was on a mission.

You walked out of the locker room feeling down. You peaked around the corner and saw Sid coming. And he looked pissed. Your heart jumped in your throat and your stomach sank. You turned swiftly and walked into the locker room.

Sidney saw you turn back into the locker room and his shoulders sank. You were avoiding him. His jealousy flipped into anger, sadness, and guilt. Geno walked up beside him. “Sid, you go and play. Sid score. Then talk to girl”, he said patting him on the back. “It almost time”.

~Time skip~

You watched the warmups. You were holding back tears and it angered you. Why were you upset? You talked to him for twenty minutes maybe?

Sidney had a hard time focusing. He really lost his cool and it was eating at him.

When the game started it was slow for the Penguins. Down by two in the first period.

He looked out the tunnel to see you skating on. He gnawed at his lip. You looked distressed but were forcing a happy face. He decided then and there that he was going to pull it together and win this game. His poor performance was affecting others. And although the had already been aware of that, something about seeing you on the ice made it real for him.

Second period started. Sid was pushed around on the ice a lot. He scored twice in the second and they were now almost through the third. It was tied with ten seconds left and he had the puck.

5 seconds left. Sid just shot it, praying it went in. In the blink of an eye the puck nestled in the back of the net.

Hat trick.

The arena roared. They rejoiced and screamed. Everything was going so fast but everything to Sidney felt like slow mo.

You stood in your position and cheered for your boys. Your heart swelled seeing them all jump on the ice and celebrate the first win of the season.

You finally had changed out of the uniform and were preparing to leave. You were always the last one. When you opened the locker room door Sidney stood directly in front of it. You froze. Perhaps you could pretend to forget something and turn around and wait awhile in the comfort of the locker room for him to leave.

“Can we talk”. It wasn’t a question and you knew it.

“Y-yea”, you stuttered. “I have to walk home and I don’t want to stay too late”, you mumbled.

“I can drive you”.

“It’s okay I’ll just walk”.

Sidney was staring intensely at your face. “I’ll rephrase that. I’m driving you home”, he said softly.

“Okay”. He reached for your bag expecting you to hand it over.

“I’ve got it”, you muttered and started walking.

“Give me the bag”, he said sternly.

You reluctantly gave him your bag, he visibly relaxed. He reached for your hand.

You pulled away from him. “Hand”, he stated simply.

“Do you think I’m a child or something. I’m 26 not 6”, you hummed.

“I’m sorry I just don’t want you drifting off to try and walk home”.

You sucked your teeth but grabbed his hand. Your hand was engulfed by his own. It felt right. “I’m sorry”, you mumbled.

He sighed. “I haven’t been exactly nice either”.

“Yea what happened earlier”, you asked. He started to gently swing your arms.

“I got jealous”, was his quiet reply. He seemed embarrassed.

“I don’t know if anyone told you but Tanger and Geno are both committed to some gorgeous women”, you teased leaning into him.

He smiled. “Jake said you were pretty and Kris encouraged him to ask you out”.

Pittsburgh’s wind hit you the second you walked outside. “No offence to Jake but he’s not my type”.

Sid looked hopeful. “What is your type then”?

Sid has you pinned against his car. “My type is tall, sweet, handsome Canadian”.

“Who would that be”?

“Nathan MacKinnon”, you said. Sid’s face fell.

“Nate?”, he said quietly.

“No idiot, your my type. I was pulling your leg”, you cupped his face in your hands.

“Come home with me”, he mumbled while leaning in to kiss you.

Your lips brushed gently. “I don’t think so Mister”, you smirked. He pulled at your bottom lip gently with his teeth.

“Please, we don’t have to do anything”, he mumbled. Your fingers started playing with his tie, you hummed in response.

“Please baby”, the words fell from his lips. He sounded tired.

“You need to sleep”, you smirked pulling away.

“I’ll be restless thinking about you. I won’t be able to sleep”, he said smirking and pulling you back in.

Sid was never one to rush into things. Especially a relationship. However you were screwing him up entirely. You messed his routine up. Now he was rushing to be with you.

Your hands travelled up his arms. “Take some NyQuil”, you hummed.

He laughed and connected your foreheads. “NyQuil really?”, he said with a chuckle.

“It works”, you laughed. Your fingers interlocked behind his neck.

“I can make you something to eat if you come”?

Lazily you blinked with a small smile. “Yea I’d really like that”.

Sid had a big smile on his face.

“With a glass of NyQuil”.

He giggled and kissed your jaw.

“I’m sure there are other ways I can tire you out”, he continued down your throat.

“Like?”, you inquired.

“A pillow fort”, Sid said passively.

“Really?”, you said in awe. Never would you think that Sidney Crosby would be one to make a pillow fort.

“Yea”, he mumbled.

“I’d like that”, you grinned and stroked his hair.

He smiled but said nothing more. He opened the car door for you. Thanking him, you got in, grateful.

He grabbed your hand and kissed the back of it while he drove.

“Good thing we were work friends”, you told him.

He looked over at you with a small smirk.

“Yea. Work friends”.

#sidney crosby #sidney crosby x reader #sidney crosby imagine #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #hockey #nhl #nhl imagine #pittsburgh penguins imagine #pittsburgh penguins #pittsburgh penguins x reader

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hookedontaronfics · 5 years

Text

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 1

NEW SERIES ALERT

Chapter title: Auditions Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: None at this time A/N: I was inspired to write a series based on the perspective of a Rocketman dancer. I hope you enjoy following a London-based dancer from her first audition run-in with Taron to maybe so much more - but don’t forget a healthy dose of drama along the way! More mature themes will develop, so be warned! Enjoy! x

“And first position … second … third … and fourth … now fifth. Good, and again.” I swept my arms gracefully through the positions my muscles knew by memory and my mind knew by heart. I’d learned the basic positions when I was no older than the girls I now taught, in their adorable pink tutus and bright shiny faces. “Keep going, that’s right,” I encouraged, walking between the barres and making adjustments while the 5-year-olds moved through each ballet position to the music I had queued.

I kept a watchful eye on these aspiring young dancers, hoping to instill in them the love of dance I had grown up with my entire life. Even when I offered corrections, I tried to do so in an encouraging manner. I’d had my share of critical teachers and even a few who thought I wouldn’t get that far. But I’d never let it bring me down and only used the negativity to push harder for what I wanted. Until, that is, a nearly career-ending injury four years ago that had kept me off the stage and behind studio doors instead. I’d made the transition to teaching on the advice of a dance counselor, and I knew I would never look back.

I ended class with some easy stretching and accepted the cute hugs and calls of “Thank you, Miss Juliette!” as my class filed out to their waiting mothers [and two fathers, bless their hearts.] Once the last girl had left I quickly packed my bag as Madison pushed her way in through the door.

“Oh my god, are you excited?” she asked me as I traded out my slippers for sneaks and pulled on a pair of comfy sweatpants and a hoodie over my leotard.

“I’m so nervous I could puke, but I won’t get an opportunity like this again. And I feel like I’m finally ready,” I grinned, making sure I had everything I needed in my bag for the audition I was already running late for. “Thank you for subbing my next class, I appreciate it, Mads,” I grinned, giving her a hug.

“It’s no sweat, now go!” she laughed, fairly pushing me out the door. “And break a leg!” she giggled as I groaned inwardly.

I rushed out of the dance school and hurried along Balderton Street to Oxford, heading toward the Bond Street tube station and taking the train across town to the Paramount studios on Chiswick. I snacked on a protein bar to keep my energy up while we rumbled over the tracks, doing a few stretches to keep my muscles loose as I wouldn’t have much time to warm up again when I got there. If anyone was staring at me, I ignored it, but I’m sure the tube riders had seen far worse than a few grand plies.

Once I arrived at the studio I hurried through the check-in process as quickly as possible. I was issued my number and told which group and studio to join before I rushed off to the bathroom to change. I’d chosen a sparkly magenta pink leotard I’d used for a performance piece years ago for this audition - I was trying out for the dance ensemble cast for Rocketman, the Elton John biopic, so even if it was a bit over-the-top I felt it was appropriate.

I pulled on tights and a black ruffled short skirt over that and strapped on my character shoes. I let my strawberry blonde hair down out of its tightly woven bun and dashed on a bit of thick eyeliner before affixing my number with safety pins. I put on bright pink lipstick and grinned at myself in the mirror. I certainly looked the part, I thought, stashing everything else in my bag and going to find my group.

I dropped my dance bag against the wall with everyone else’s stuff and found an open spot on the floor, sitting in a deep split and doing a few stretches while everyone else either chatted excitedly or went through their own personal warmups. The buzz in the room instantly cut out as a trim stately man strode in; I instantly recognized him as the choreographer we’d be working with. Waves of excitement and nerves washed through me in equal measure as we all stood and lined up without being instructed to. Several other people came in and took seats along the wall; I presumed they were likely producers and crew of some variety.

I tried to secure myself a spot in the middle front; even if I wasn’t feeling the most confident, I could certainly fake my way into it. This was my first professional audition since I’d made company - and later principal - for London Ballet Company. All of my dance dreams had shattered after the injury that meant I couldn’t do pointe work any more, but I’d thrown myself into classes in other styles as a sort of rehab process and in an effort to diversify my skill set, and found I loved jazz and Broadway the most.

So here I was, giving my all through the brief warmup, across-the-floor exercises, and combinations, hoping to catch the choreographers’ eye. I knew I was one dancer in a field of hundreds, some coming from other countries just for this chance. But I also knew how badly I wanted a spot in the ensemble, to be a part of such a spectacle.

My favorite combination involved a bit of a complicated leap into a fan kick; I could see other dancers struggling to get elevated but I felt so completely in my own element, soaring across the floor and losing myself to the music, which unfortunately wasn’t actually from Elton’s catalogue. We were split into smaller groups to perform the series of steps for the choreographer; at the end of it, I added my own little flourish, dropping into a very Fosse-style pose with curved shoulders and tilted hips. The choreographer brushed past me as he circled our group, muttering “very good” so only I could hear. I couldn’t help but smile, but kept my eyes low.

We were given a twenty-minute break after everyone had a chance to perform, and the choreographers from each room of dancers would be making first cuts before we would all be shuffled together and given a full routine to learn and perform on an actual stage. I dearly hoped I’d be making it through the cut, but sometimes not getting a part had nothing to do with how good a dancer you were. Directors sometimes wanted a specific “look,” and I had no idea if this would hold true for Rocketman or not.

The hallways were far too noisy for me so I stepped nimbly over dancers sprawled on the floor as I traveled away from the studio rooms, trying to find somewhere quiet to listen to my music and try to find a bit of peace. I filled my water bottle at a drinking fountain before turning a corner and leaving all the other dancers behind. I probably should have just plopped myself here, but curiosity got the better of me, so I followed down this hallway too, my character shoe footsteps echoing in the quiet even as I tried to walk softly. I plugged my headphones in and was just about to hit play on my Spotify playlist when I heard a couple of voices coming from a cracked doorway. The room had a bank of sweeping windows and I couldn’t help peering in; some day I would learn to tame my incessant curiosity, but today was not that day.

Three men stood inside, involved in what looked like a serious discussion. I couldn’t really make out much of what they were saying, their voices just low murmurs, but I thought I might have recognized one of them. Just then they all turned to head toward the door, and I ducked away from the window, hoping I hadn’t been seen. As I slowly tried to sneak away, the door swung open rather suddenly and flew straight into me, sending me sprawling onto my hands and knees, my phone skidding across the floor.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” the handsome young man I recognized said, instantly offering his hand to help me up and looking embarrassed. I took it, noticing how soft his skin was but how strong he felt as he helped bring me back to my feet.

“It’s alright,” I said with a laugh, brushing off my knees and hands and retrieving my phone from the floor. “Nothing hurt but my pride,” I said as he looked me up and down, taking in my obvious dance garb.

“Here for the auditions, then?” he smiled warmly at me, as the other two men carried on their conversation.

“Um, yes, though I’m hoping I’ve danced with more grace than I just displayed,” I grinned good-naturedly. “Though I should get back to that now.”

“Well I wish you best of luck, Number Two-Nine-Four,” he read off my assigned number with a smirk.

“It’s Juliette,” I supplied with a laugh.

“Juliette then, you may call me Taron,” he replied, smiling so widely his dimples showed through.

“Holy shit, you’re Elton!” I gasped, covering my mouth with my hands and making the other two men halt their conversation mid-sentence as they gawked at me.

“That’s up for debate but yes, I’ll be attempting to play him,” Taron grinned at my shock. I knew now how I’d recognized him, from the Kingsman films. But standing here in front of him was an entirely different thing. He was totally unassuming, just dressed in jeans, a black sweatshirt and a ball cap with “twenty-two” scrawled across it.

“I’m sure you’ll be wonderful at it,” I laughed lightly, trying to not feel shy in front of him, but for his part he did everything to try and make me feel at ease.

“I suppose if I was shit Elton wouldn’t have chosen me,” Taron just chuckled.

“No, I don’t think so. Well, it’s very nice to bump into you but I really must get back,” I said softly.

“Wouldn’t want you to be late, love,” he said with a wink. “We’re heading to the stage now,” he added, making my insides feel rather funny all of a sudden. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe,” I agreed a bit faintly, hurrying back down the hall the way I’d come, my heart pounding and unaware that Taron’s gaze lingered on my willowy frame. The hallways were already deserted and I worried I was late, but I slipped back into the studio room just in time, as we were all called to line up again.

The choreographer was holding a notepad and after thanking everyone for coming out and giving our hardest work, told us only five numbers from our room were advancing to the stage routine. I closed my eyes at that; five out of a room of 35. There’s no way I’m getting through this cut, I thought. I was confident in my abilities but there was so much talent it was practically dripping from the walls.

“If your number is called, please come join me up here,” our choreographer said, and rattled off the first number, 162. A spry male dancer who had all the marks of “ballet” written in his physique left our ranks and joined the choreographer at the front, fairly beaming to be one of the chosen. Next up was 052, a fiery redhead with a pretty face; 291 [so close], a black muscular male with a sweet expression; and 112, a tow-headed boy who looked barely out of secondary school.

I closed my eyes and held my breath as the last number was read, even if I had no chance. “294!” the choreographer called, and no one moved a muscle. Someone next to me tapped me on the shoulder, my eyes still screwed shut tightly.

“Hey, I think that’s you!” a girl whispered as the choreographer called my number again.

“Oh,” I laughed in disbelief, walking to the front in stunned silence as the choreographer clapped for us and everyone else joined in. After more thanking of all the auditioners, the people who hadn’t made it were dismissed, and after much chatter and shuffling of bags, it was just us five left. We’d all been told on the audition notice to bring black pants and a white button-down shirt we could dance in and tap shoes, though the particular style they had left up to us, and we were now instructed to change into those clothes and join all the other dancers in another studio room in ten minutes. I decided to leave my leotard on under my shirt, only doing up three buttons so it could still flash through. I switched my character shoes out for actual taps and then dashed off a squealing text to Madison that I had made it through the first round of cuts.

<Oh my god, that’s so exciting! So what happens next?> she texted back immediately.

<But you’ve been taking hours and hours of classes! I’m sure you’ll do great> she sent back with about ten winky-face emojis. I had to laugh at that.

<Gotta go, I’ll let you know if I make it through to solos.> I stashed my phone in my bag again and made it to the large studio room in time, lost in a sea of other black-and-white clad dancers, all of us trying to individualize in some way, with bright lipsticks or colored socks or patterned scarves tied round our heads. We were all handed cheaply made top hats and shown where to stand. The dancers from each room seemed to band together, so I was in line with the other four from my room, trying to give them encouraging smiles.

“We’ve got this,” I said under my breath to the tow-headed boy next to me, who looked incredibly nervous though he was probably one of the best talents in the room, even so young. He nodded at me and smiled kindly in appreciation, so I gave him a goofy thumbs up before the choreographers addressed our room.

There were about 60 of us, and I strained to hear what was being said over the coughs and rustles as dancers adjusted their clothes. Still, I got the gist of it and then we were hard at work, learning pieces of the routine, repeating each small snippet over and over and then quickly breezing through the next. It felt like a blur, but I did what I knew to do best in these situations; I linked each piece of choreo to an image in my brain to keep the sequence in order, building on it as we moved through the 2 minutes of routine the way a child might play a game of memory.

We were all sweaty and out of breath when our thirty minutes were up, and soon we were herded to the stage to perform the piece all on our own, as the choreographers and producers and maybe even the director for all I knew sat in the audience. Oh, and Taron, I reminded myself, trying not to let that make me suddenly nervous. The last thing I needed to do was forget the choreography. We stood on the stage under lights, staring out into the darkened auditorium. If I squinted hard enough I could make out the shapes of people in the seats but had no idea who they were. I wondered if Taron was out there looking for me, and the thought of it made me smile.

The strains of music began and soon we were lost in the whirlwind of the dance, performing the piece like we’d been rehearsing for months. It was nice to feel like I could rely on the dancers around me as much as they could rely on me. Sure, we were all competing against each other for those coveted spots, but we were also performers at heart. And so, for those two minutes, we leaped and we spun and we tapped and we shone.

When the music was over we all stood around on the stage together, whispering and waiting as the shadows in the audience deliberated our fates. I didn’t think I had missed a step, and I looked forward to giving my solo, a piece I had worked hard on and that had made Mads cry when I performed it for her. Still, twenty people wouldn’t be making it through this round and that made me even more anxious than I already was.

After about ten minutes someone called for order, and we quieted down immediately. Numbers were called quickly, dancers cheered or groaned, and I was thankfully called up somewhere in the middle of the pack this time. My relief was probably evident. We were given about twenty minutes to prepare whatever we needed to; I chose that time to eat another protein bar and chill out to some music. I had a simple costume for this piece, wanting my dancing to be center stage. I kept the black pants but exchanged the leotard and shirt for a black dance bra and black vest. I slicked back my hair into a sleek ponytail and pulled a hat low over my eyes. I wiped off the pink lipstick and left my lips neutral, but painted my eyelids black. It was a dramatic effect and exactly what I was going for.

We had to pick numbers and of course I chose the last slot, so I had a lot of time to wait around. We all were told we could sit in the auditorium seats if we wished to watch each other at this point, and I sat with my new-found “friends” from my original group, all of who had made it through the tap round. There was Pietre, the soft-spoken young boy; Dennis, the athletic black dancer; Leah the precocious redhead; and Markus, the handsome ex-principal. Markus was quite funny, and I enjoyed sitting next to him as we watched other dancers perform.

Slowly, our ranks got smaller and smaller as each dancer went onstage to perform and was subsequently dismissed. We wouldn’t be told if we had gotten the job until the next day, so this was our last real shot to make an impression. I wished Pietre, Dennis, Leah and Markus all good luck, and their solos were all amazing. It was going to be a tall order for the choreographers to make their decisions, whittling us down to just 30 core dancers.

And then it was my turn. There was no one else left to watch except the people judging me. But as I made my way up the stage stairs, I noticed someone standing in the wings, and realized it was Taron, waving at me and giving me a thumbs up. Had he really stuck around this long to watch me? I was a little dumbstruck at that and ended up stumbling over my own name when I was asked to introduce myself, even though they had my audition sheet in front of them. Get a grip, I chastised myself, stealing another glance at the wings. Despite the low light I could see Taron’s eyes glittering at me and I could feel his eyes following me as I took my place on the stage. I took a few slow breaths to still my mind, needing to go to that place where I was beyond my thoughts, where it was nothing but light and color and music.

I’d chosen Annie Lennox’s “Cold,” a song that was dreamy and ethereal and yet somehow heavy. Lines like “Dying is easy/It's living that scares me to death” and “But the more I want you the less I get/Ain't that just the way things are” hit me in the chest and had stayed with me ever since I heard the song, but when “Catch me and let me dive under/For I want to swim in the pools of your eyes” the image of Taron flashed through my mind, and the words gained a new meaning as I couldn’t let go of the way he looked at me.

When the song ended and I had struck my final pose, the auditorium was dead silent; I could have heard a pin drop aside from my own heart beating. I stood back up and took a small bow, turning to leave because I didn’t think anyone was going to say anything before suddenly someone in the auditorium was clapping, the sound hollow in that giant space. I glanced over at the wing, but Taron wasn’t standing there anymore and for some reason that made me feel empty.

“Thank you for your time, that was lovely. We’ll phone you tomorrow,” one of the faceless shapes from the auditorium told me. I gave them my most winning smile and then was dismissed. I was sweaty, sore and exhausted by the time I gathered my bag up, changing once again into sweats and ready to just head home and tuck into a bowl of homemade Thai peanut chicken curry. I’d done my best and the rest was up to someone else. I had my hand on the exit door when someone called my name. I turned to see Taron jogging toward me, a bit out of breath.

“You were brilliant. They all said it in there, you should have heard them after you left,” he grinned. “You left us all absolutely speechless.”

“I, uhm, thank you,” I replied awkwardly, trying to wrap my mind around what he was telling me.

“You’re absolutely a shoe-in, no question, but you didn’t hear it from me,” he said, winking at me for the second time that day. I let out a nervous laugh at that. “I look forward to working with you, Juliette,” he added, and I couldn’t help my legs feeling a little weak at the way he said my name. I was glad I was still holding onto the door handle to steady myself. On second thought, this might be a major problem, I thought, but he was an actor and I was just a dancer and I didn’t think we’d be spending that much time on set together. Besides that, Taron was on a whole other level from me, so I figured he was only being kind.

“Me too,” I finally managed to reply. He bid me have a good night and then disappeared off down the hall, to do what I didn’t know but he seemed intensely focused on every aspect of this project. He had certainly left an impression on me though, and I could feel my cheeks were flushed.

I finally made my way to the tube station, taking it across the city to my flat and letting myself in gratefully, instantly greeted by my fluffy 2-year-old golden retriever Troy. “Hey boy, mommy’s home,” I grinned, ruffling his fur happily. Madison had stopped in earlier to check on him and let him out, and I was forever grateful to her. Mads had been my biggest cheerleader and supporter since I started working at DanceWorks, and I had never met a sweeter, kinder soul.

<Finally home. We’ll know results tomorrow. Everything seemed to go really well for me> I texted her as I tossed my sweaty dance clothes in the wash.

<Think you’ve got the job?> she asked back.

<Not sure, these things are never certain even if you feel good about it but I did my best and something tells me I impressed the choreographers> I wrote back. Or rather someone, I thought, a small smile drawing across my face.

I set about making dinner, feeling half-starved now, and did my best to relax in front of the television, catching up with my favorite shows. I took Troy on a quick walk around the neighborhood in the late evening before finally taking a long soak in the freestanding bathing tub I’d invested good money in. There was nothing better after a long day of dance then letting my muscles unwind with lavender Epsom salts.

Tired and fully worn out, I stretched out in my bed, ready to catch some shut-eye but of course every time I closed my eyes I could see Taron’s handsome face floating in the dark. I wasn’t about to delude myself into thinking I had half a chance with Taron. From all accounts he was just an absolutely caring and sympathetic man and his co-workers always spoke so highly of working with him. But I could definitely say there was now more than one reason why I wanted the chance to dance on Rocketman.

Keep reading: Chapter 2 HERE

#taron imagine #taron egerton #taron x reader #rocketman fanfic #taron egerton fanfiction

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rogersmeadows · 5 years

Text

study date

Pairing: Roger x Reader (unspecified gender)

Summary: When you complain about your troubles with your biology course to your best friend Freddie he knows just the man to tutor you. Unfortunately for you, that man is his insanely hot drummer who you can’t seem to form coherent sentences around.

Warnings: like one swear word, this one’s pretty clean

Words: 2.5k

A/N: This is set in the very early days of Queen and also I have no idea how post secondary works in England so I’m just going off what I know from Canada, but I imagine it’s not that different.

“This is it. I’m finally gonna do it. I’m dropping out of school.” You slammed your textbook shut and dropped your head down onto it. Tears of frustration prickled at your eyes, but you fought them back as you hated crying in front of people and your best friend happened to be sitting across the coffee table from you.

“Darling, stop being so dramatic. It’s a first year biology course. You could pass it in your sleep,” Freddie's blunt response cut your pity party short, he never was one to let you wallow in your own misery.

“I can’t just pass Freddie. I need at least a B to keep my GPA where it needs to be.” You attempted to open the book again, but gave up almost immediately, “Fuck! I’m an arts student! Why are they making me take science anyway!” It wasn’t that you didn’t like science, quite the opposite in fact, it was endlessly interesting to you which only made it that much more frustrating that you couldn’t seem to grasp the concepts.

Freddie knew this about you without you ever having to tell him. He knew you were too proud to admit it, but he could see how your eyes lit up when you actually took your time to read the material and he loved how you would spout off any and all interesting facts you learned from the day’s lecture once you got home to your shared flat. He also knew you were serious about needing to keep your grades up and wanted to do everything he could to help which is why he got so excited when he made the connection, “Roger!”

Your ears pricked up immediately. Roger Taylor. Your best friend’s ridiculously hot bandmate. The one you had had a crush on since the first time you came home early from school to find him sprawled out on your living room couch, tired, sweaty, and shirtless, having just come from a particularly intense band practice.

“Um. Hi.” How exactly does one greet a shirtless stranger sitting on their couch?

“Oh hi,” the blond stood and made a move like he was going to shake your hand before deciding to cross his arms over his chest instead, suddenly feeling very exposed, “you must be Y/N.” He quickly realized how confused you must be and chuckled at the situation. “Sorry, Fred said you wouldn’t be back until later tonight.” He gestured to the bathroom door where you could now hear the sound of the shower running.

“Yeah well my later class got cancelled,” at the mention of Freddie you immediately let your guard down before realizing you still had no idea who this man was, “and you are?”

“Right, I guess I should explain that. I’m Roger, I’m in the band with Fred. The drummer.” He had the slightest smirk on his face when he said that as if he knew how much hotter he just became to you. He wasn’t wrong. You had always had a thing for drummers. And it definitely didn’t help that this particular drummer was standing two feet away from you, sans shirt, staring into your eyes with his own impossibly blue ones.

“Oh, right on!” You cringed at your cheesy words that you knew you said with a little too much forced enthusiasm, but Roger didn’t seem to notice. He was too focused on the cute way you kept nervously playing with your hair.

“You should come hear us play someday, we’re just starting out so we’re a little rough around the edges,” a confident smile crept onto his face, “but who knows, maybe one day we’ll make it big and then you can say you’ve supported us from the start,” he added a wink at the end and your heart just about melted.

“I’ll make sure Freddie let’s me know when you boys play next,” you said with a nod. “Well, even though my class was cancelled my prof is going to be expecting us to know this material for the exam so I better get studying, it was nice meeting you.” You had never been good at flirting, but you decided to try your luck in a subtle way, adding, “Can’t wait to see you play, make sure to remember me when you’re famous.” As you turned to leave the living room though, you smacked your elbow on the wall which sent all of your textbooks and papers tumbling to the floor. You quickly refused Roger’s offer to help you gather your books and, mortified, scrambled to your room and shut the door behind you. “Smooth,” you exhaled to yourself as you sat down at your desk and tried not to play that moment over and over again in your mind.

That was the longest conversation you had ever had with Roger. Anytime you were around him after that you were so worried about embarrassing yourself again that you just avoided talking to him altogether.

“What about Roger?” You tried not to let your nerves show, but your heart was already racing at the mere mention of his name.

“Roger’s getting his degree in biology. He’s quite good at it too. He would be the perfect tutor!” The more he thought about it, the more proud Freddie became with himself for coming up with the idea.

“Freddie I cannot ask Roger to tutor me,” you said in a warning tone.

“Why not?” Genuine puzzlement took over Freddie’s expression.

Your mind went blank. The real answer was you found Roger intimidatingly hot and didn’t want him to think you were an idiot for not understanding the most basic level of the subject he was majoring in, but you couldn’t very well say that to Freddie. Not that he would have a problem with you crushing on his bandmate, the opposite in fact. If Freddie knew about your infatuation with Roger he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from trying to set you two up which would only embarrass you when Roger inevitably turned you down because why would someone like him want to be with someone like you?

“See. You can’t think of a reason. That settles it. I’ll talk to Roger about it tonight at our rehearsal. You’re welcome for saving you from dropping out,” he stood and took a bow and then retired to his room to get ready for his rehearsal, you could hear him begin his vocal warmups as he closed his door.

Roger set your first study date for three days after Freddie first mentioned the idea to him. The first two days he had classes of his own to attend to, but the third day he was “All yours,” as Freddie had put it when you eagerly asked him that night what he had said. That was three days ago. You were now sitting at your coffee table in the living room trying not to obsessively run through exactly how you wanted the night to go in your mind. You were pulled from your thoughts by the buzzer to your flat going off. You buzzed Roger in and nervously awaited his ascent to your fourth floor apartment. In your head you were already running through what you would say when you opened the door for him to make sure you didn’t trip over your words, but instead of knocking he let himself right in, a tray with two coffee cups in one hand, quickly causing you to rewrite the script you were just preparing.

He took your stunned silence as annoyance and quickly got to apologizing, “Sorry for barging in, Fred always tells me just to let myself in when I come over,” he was rambling at this point, afraid he had offended you, “but he’s not here and we don’t know each other all that well so I suppose it was rude of me to do that. Bad habit,” he let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding in, “sorry.”

“No no don’t be sorry, I just,” you shook your head as if you could shake loose a rationalization for your silence that didn’t include how nervous you felt at this very moment, “got thrown a little off guard. Sorry.” Apparently it was your turn to ramble now, “I just haven’t been getting a ton of sleep recently with finals coming up and I think I’m just a bit tired,” you finished, hoping he didn’t take that as you not wanting to do this.

“Ah, well, that’s what these are for,” he lifted up the hand holding the coffees and gave you a comforting smile. “Fred said you liked vanilla lattes with extra espresso. I’m more of a black coffee drinker myself, but whatever gets the job done I suppose.”

“Oh you really didn’t have to,” you said as you gratefully took the cup he held out to you, “thank you,” you tried to keep your voice even, but the simple act of kindness sent butterflies right to your stomach. You immediately lifted the cup to your lips to try and hide the huge grin on your face.

“It’s no problem love. Just making sure I don’t bore you to sleep when I start talking about cell division or the circulatory system,” he chuckled.

Bored was the last word you would use to describe how you felt listening to Roger tutor you. Amazed was a more fitting descriptor. He would skim over the chapter to ensure he knew how in depth to go and then explain each concept to you in his own words in a way that actually made sense and kept you engaged in the material. At the end of each chapter you went over he would quiz you with questions he knew would be similar to the ones on your exam. He never made you feel stupid about the questions you didn’t get right, he would just try to explain it again in a different way until you fully understood. He was endlessly patient and as the night went on all of your fears about him judging you melted away as you two got more and more comfortable with each other.

It was easily past midnight when he silently looked up from the textbook and let his eyes drift over all the features of your face, pausing for a second on your lips before he cleared his throat and looked back down, “Y/N?”

“Yeah Rog?”

“Do you like me?”

“What,” you gulped, wondering if you had been that obvious, “what do you mean?”

“Like, as a person, do you like me?”

Your panic was quickly replaced with confusion, “Of course I do, why do you ask?”

“It’s just that, you’ve barely said two words to me since we first met. And whenever you do, you just always seemed kind of cold towards me. Not in a bad way, God, I don’t mean anything against you, it’s just... this isn’t coming out right...I just, well, I was worried that I had done something to upset you,” his eyes flitted up to meet yours and you could see that he was trying to read your facial expression for any clues as to how you were reacting to his concern.

“No you’ve never done anything to upset me Roger. I just,” your stomach felt like it was doing somersaults. You definitely didn’t want Roger to think you didn’t like him, but at the same time you weren’t about to tell him the reason you avoid him is because you have a stupid, childish crush on him and get too nervous to speak around him. You felt deflecting was your best bet to avoid having to explain yourself, “Why do you care what I think of you?” You decided to throw in some humour for good measure, “I’m sure you’ve got more than enough adoring fans that are all crazy about Roger Taylor, The Rockstar to bolster your ego.”

You could tell from his expression your attempt at a joke didn’t make him feel better in the slightest. His voice dropped to just above a whisper as he looked down at his hands, “I wasn’t talking about Roger Taylor the rockstar. I was talking about me. The Roger sitting next to you on this couch right now.” With that he once again looked up into your eyes. Your eyes which were now searching his expression frantically trying to decipher what he wanted from you in this moment.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you said softly, “why do you care about my opinion of you?”

He opened his mouth like he was going to answer you, but then shut it again before taking in a long breath. “Forget it. I’m sorry. It’s getting late, I should probably go. We can finish up the remaining chapters next week,” he made a move like he was about to stand up, but something in you told you not to let him leave like this so you put a hand on his knee and took a deep breath before the words began spilling out of your mouth.

“I do like you Roger. That’s the problem. I really like you, but I can’t seem to stop myself from acting like an idiot around you so my solution to that was to just, not be around you. It’s just that you’re you and I’m me and I just get so nervous and I know that if I open my mouth I’ll just keep going on and on and on just like I am right now and-” your speech was cut short by Roger gently pressing his lips against yours.

It was the sweetest kiss you had ever gotten. His one hand rested on your cheek as the other was placed tenderly over your own that was still on his knee. After a period that was much too short for your liking he pulled back to check your reaction, "Was that okay?”

You were at a loss for words. All you could think to do was to nod your head before pulling him back in, this kiss much more passionate than the first. Your hand wove its way into his long, blond hair as you pulled him against you even more, deepening the kiss.

When the kiss finally ended you two were left leaning your foreheads together, eyes still closed. Roger broke the silence first, “I’ve been wanting to do that from the moment I met you. I just never thought you would feel the same about me.”

You looked into his eyes with complete adoration, still not believing what just happened, “Well I think what we can take away from tonight is that we both need to be more honest about our feelings.”

He leaned in for another quick kiss before letting out a soft laugh, “You didn’t take away anything about biology?”

“Oh definitely not after that,” you said with a sly smile.

“Well,” he brought your face in so it was just inches from his, “guess we’ll just have to schedule a few more study dates.”

#my writing #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #queen fanfiction #roger x reader #queen

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