#ballerina!reader

[marlenesluv]

۵pairing: fem!albonsibling!ballerina x platonic f1 grid. also, reader x lando norris

۵type: social media au and dialogue

۵authors note: i really love making these, so i’m excited to work on a part 3! also, i know alex has other siblings, i’m just not including them in these posts!

۵warnings: cussing, talk of blood (someone cut their finger, not bad or described much), talk of ballet darks: not eating as much, rude teachers, mean comments.

۵summary: after y/n albon lost her ballet partner, lando comes over to comfort her. but she of course still has a lot of practice before swan lake in two months.

۵this is part 3! please read part 1 and part 2 before this. (part 1 is mine, j on my main blog)

masterlist here -> masterlist link

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were devastated to lose your partner, Ben, but all good things must come to an end, apparently. That’s what Lily had told you, at least.

Ben was an amazing dancer, he was, but your ballet instructor has wanted you to do solos for years now. Saying you had “too much potential to waste” and “you’re too talented to be focusing on another person when the show is about you.” Of course this was very nice, but Ben wasn’t only your ballet partner, but a friend.

The two of you went to the movies together, got coffee before practice, dinner after, it was nice. And you were happy that he had found a girl for him. You just didn’t expect for her to make him quit ballet.

That’s right, not a sport he had outgrown or gotten bored of. No no. Destiny was not a fan of the fact that he spent all of his time in the studio. Understandable, but dating a ballet dancer, that is a given. It was a shame that Ben had thrown all of his hard work away for a girl.

But here you were, unlocking your apartment door as Lando Norris walked in with a bag of Indian food and an extra hoodie on his shoulder.

“Hey! I got you some butter chicken and some paneer naan for us to share. Oh, and…” he pulled out two bottles of mango juice and handed them to you as you placed them on your island. “If I remembered correctly, you like mango juice?”

“Mhmm. Thank you, Lando.” you smiled up at him as he blushed a bit, clearing his throat as he sorted through the bag and you got out silverware.

“Wanna watch a show?” you asked, as you sat down beside him on your sofa, opening your juice.

“Yeah. How about ‘Brooklyn 99’?”

You nodded, opening Peacock and starting an episode as you both started eating and talking.

Talking with Lando was easy. When you ranted about how your ballet instructor stretched your arm too far backwards, he listened, only butting in to make sure you knew he was paying attention.

And when he ranted about how Checo pushed him off the track, and didn’t get penalized, you listened, you only butted in to gasp and ask the occasional question about how something worked.

You didn’t feel like he was judging you, and it was nice. Lando felt the same. You were someone that understood Formula 1 to a certain degree, since Alex talked about it, but you still asked questions, not just discounting what he was saying. Sure, Oscar wouldn’t mind listening to him blab on about shit, but Oscar wasn’t you.

And yes, you could talk to Lily, Kika, Kelly, Laila, or Carmen, but they weren’t Lando.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

yourinstagram

liked by landonorris, pierregasly, and 872,024 others

y/n.albon: i am so good at chess ♟️

view comments…

user3: lando and y/n??

alex_albon: you guys are hanging out alone now??

↳ y/n.albon: i guess, yeah

↳ alex_albon: wtf!?

↳ alex_albon: y/n answer my texts what are you doing????

user5: y/n just not answering alex LMAOO

user8: i live for this duo, they are so precious to me

lilymhe: the shoesss🥹

↳ y/n.albon: ikkk🥹🩷

user7: new ship, guys. ballerina and f1 driver 🫠

user2: she’s slaying without ben, fr

kellypiquet: adorable!

*liked by creator*

user4: okay. can they date?? orrrr

↳ user9: literallyyyy

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

landosinstagram

liked by y/n.albon, oscarpiastri, and 602,140 others

landonorris: 📷🩰💇‍♂️

view comments…

user1: BRO?

y/n.albon: gotta get those stretches in👯‍♀️

↳ landonorris: oh yeah🩰🙆‍♂️

user7: anyone notice how much y/n and lando have been hanging out….?

↳ user4: mhmmm. i ship

↳ user7: SAME

alex_albon: ahem, what is the second picture?

↳ y/n.user: me….alex, you’re my brother and you don’t know what i look like? shame shame

↳ alex_albon: that’s not what i meant, y/n

↳ alex_albon: why tf are you guys both on instagram and not messaging me back??

↳ alex_albon: fine. i’ll j come over, y/n

↳ y/n.albon: i’m taking my key back.

user9: little sibling fights in landos comments 😭

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Alex Albon always kept his word. So, naturally, at 8:30pm on a Thursday night, Alex unlocked his sisters apartment door with his spare key. So what if Y/N said to only use it “for emergencies” and “if i had fallen and could not get up” which she thought was hilarious, whilst he just clenched hi jaw at the thought of her falling and hurting herself.

He was definitely on the protective side, but for good reasons. All of her past boyfriends, there were two, had cheated on her. Yeah, he didn’t love how close his sister was to Lando Norris, but at least he liked Lando. Not enough to be okay with their hanging out though. But Alex trusted Lando enough to not freak out too much.

When Alex walked into his sisters apartment, he couldn’t find her anywhere. The kitchen was spotless. Marble countertops cleaned off, fridge stocked up, floor vacuumed. He should have known that was the case before he walked in.

Every Wednesday and Sunday, Y/N cleaned her apartment. It was something she had control over. She didn’t have control over what she ate, her ballet instructor did. She didn’t have control over her spare time, it was spent at the studio. Alex felt bad sometimes, she had dedicated her life since she was five to ballet.

Sure, Alex had dedicated his life to Formula 1 as well, but he knew ballet was more draining. He’d seen the breakdowns first hand. Y/N coming to his house after practice and crying in his arms because she didn’t get a part. Or when she had called Alex ten times and then Lily because she needed new ballet shoes and her instructor wanted them now.

And he would never forget the times that her instructor would tell her to not eat as much, and that she needed to slim down. She would come over for dinner with him and Lily, and drink her water and maybe some vegetables.

It always made Lily mad. She hated how Y/N was treated, they both did. They also both knew how much ballet meant to Y/N, so they never told her to quit.

“Alex?” Alex whipped his head around to see his sister in her ballet leggings, a sweater, and boots.

Y/N sat her ballet bag on the barstool and emptied her water bottle out as she looked at Alex. “Dude? What are you doing in my house?”

“Oh, u-um. I was checking on you. Forgot you had to go in today. Sorry.” He blinked, looking at her tight bun on her head. “Hey, shouldn’t you take that out before your head pops off?”

“So funny, ha-ha.” Y/N mocked, getting out some fruit. “Did you need something? Or did you wanna stay?”

“Sorry, right. Lily wants you to come over for dinner tomorrow.”

“Just Lily?” Y/N raised a brow as she plopped a strawberry into her mouth and chewed.

“No, dumbass. I want you to, too. Bring someone ever too, if you want.” Alex shrugged, accepting the strawberry his sister offered him.

“Mmk. Like who?….Lando?”

“I don’t care. If you want to.” he chewed the berry as she grabbed two waters from her fridge and handed one to Alex.

“Alright. Thanks. That it?” she asked, sighing.

Alex knew she wasn’t trying to be rude. She wanted to be alone, he understood. She had been at the studio since 8:00am, she was tired and wanted to sleep.

“Nope, that’s it. See you tomorrow?” Alex walked to the door, Y/N behind him.

“Yup. Love you, Alex. I’ll see ya.”

“Love you too. See ya tomorrow.” Alex shut the door behind him and walked to the elevator, pushing his thoughts away that maybe his sister was dating Lando.

He shook his head and sent a text to Lily to let him know that he was on his way home. Tomorrow night would be interesting.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

twitter:

F1 Updates @f1updatepage • 2hr

Our beloved Y/N Albon has been spotted on a boat with Lando Norris. The photo below was taken last week:

↳ Y/N my Icon! @y/n4lifeeee • 1hr

WHAT- i knew they were hanging out, butttt why am i shipping them so hard rn????

↳ Piasstri🍑 @oscandlan • 1hr

idk if i want to be y/n or if i want to be with y/n

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

yourinstagram

liked by landonorris, francisca.cgomes and 875,024 others

y/n.albon: pinky 🌸🩰🎀👛

view comments…

user9: SLAY PINK QUEEN

user4: fits always eat

lailahasanovic: cutieeeee

↳ y/n.albon: awe laila🩷

user6: no lando pics?? :(

↳ user2: im sure we will soon lol

danielricciardo: shes working💅🩰

↳ y/n.albon: yuh

f1wags: y/n’s life is sooo aesthetic fr

y/nballetstudio: our favvvv

*liked by creator*

user3: my literal inspo, ugh

landonorris: coffee coffee coffee

↳ y/n.user: thx for the coffee coffee coffee

↳ user1: hold up. he made her that coffee??????

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You were nervous for dinner with Lily and Alex on Friday night. Actually, the dinner that was currently 3 hours away.

And yes, you invited Lando. So what? You weren’t even sure if you guys were just friends, or maybe he wanted something more….

It was confusing. One day, you guys are hanging out, cuddling on your couch while talking, and the next, he doesn’t even text you.

But he happily accepted the invite. Which is why Lando was sitting on your bed, watching you apply your lipgloss at your mirror. The shiny gloss catching his eye as you smiled and asked him a question.

“Lando? You there?” you waved your hand, smiling and laughing a bit.

“What? Oh, mhmm. Yeah. I heard you.” he shook his head, hoping you would repeat what you had said.

“You do think that we should get sushi next week for lunch?” you questioned, tilting your head to the side and smirking.

“Y/N, no. Don’t joke like that. You don’t even like sushi!” Lando whined, making you laugh.

“I know, sorry. I asked if I looked okay?” you smoothed your black skirt down, pulling the sleeves of the white shirt down a bit.

Lando swallowed, clearing his throat. What was he supposed to say? You truly always looked breathtaking to him. He couldn’t say that though. “Yeah, you look great.” Lando smiled and got up from your bed.

“Ok, thanks. Let’s go?” you shook off the weird feeling you had, grabbing your purse and snapping a mirror picture while Lando got his phone off the charger.

………

Once you guys got to Alex and Lilys, everything went smoothly. Alex and Lando chatted about the cars while they prepared the salad, and you and Lily talked about her latest golf outing and your rehearsals.

That’s how it always went. Except usually Alex would rant about the cars to you and Lily at dinner. Occasionally getting a breadstick thrown at him because you found his complaining aggravating.

“I know! And get this, my engineer said-“ Alex was ranting as Lando kept glancing your way. The was you doubled over when Lily said something, or the way you bit your lip as you concentrated on the pasta. He shook his head and listened to Alex talk about his balance in the car.

“Y/N. You need to seriously open your eyes.” Lily said, looking at you with a hand on her hip.

“They are! The pasta is fine- what…why are you mom stancing me right now?” you questioned, lips parted and brows furrowed.

“Do you not see the way Lando looks at you? He’s going to chop off a finger if he keeps glancing over here and not at his carrots.” Lily sighed, and right on cue….

“Ow! Fuck!” Lando cursed, hissing in pain, holding his finger.

“Lando! What the fuck? You’re getting blood all over the cutting board.” Alex complained, earning a cup thrown at his head from you as you ran over to Lando.

“What did you do?!” you asked, running his finger under cold water. It wasn’t a deep cut, but he grazed his finger with the blade.

“Um…I don’t know. Just thinking about the cars, I guess.” he shrugged, thanking you for getting the bandaids from the drawer behind him and helping him wrap it.

“Alex, you’re so rude! When a guest cuts their finger, you help! Not complain about your $15 cutting board.” Lily scolded Alex, shaking her head.

Alex scoffed, “Lily, he’s fine.” The couple set the table as you guys took your seats. You and Lando on one side, and Lily and Alex across from you.

“Sorry for not helping, Lando.” Alex said, side eyeing Lily.

You giggled a bit as Lando started laughing, “mhm, it’s okay.”

Dinner went well, conversations flowed well and it was nice to talk to the people you enjoyed being around. Now id only you could figure your feelings for Lando out…

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

yourinstagram story

seen by: landonorris, alex_albon, and 678,023 others

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

(reposts, comments, and likes are appreciated!^-^)

[s-4pphics]

omg i need smut for ballerina reader x tattoo artist ellie

pleaseeeee

hi hon i didn't forget ab u trust me trust me

…. but hi guys🤭 since i finished sotp and this at literally the same time why not post both.... teeeheee

wc;cw: 1.9k😳, MDNI, ellie and reader r both freaks! nasty little harlots, these two are!!, kinda exhibitionism bc car windows, weed, shotgunning(failed), mentions of daddy kink and breeding and face sitting, readers a bimbo but we knew that we love u bae :3, more monologues, cocky ellie, dirty talk, spanking, mult. orgasms and squirting, slight dumbification, titty and pussy slapping mmm, das it

… i wrote this while high soooo if there’s a typo no there’s not! bye yall :p

when ballerina!reader and tattooist!ellie fuck for the first time the world damn near melts from the inside out. 

you had finally gotten into the passenger's seat of ellie’s busted up car after she wrapped up your brand-new tat. you asked her multiple times if she was going to kill you in some nearby forest after smoking you out, in which she replied with a sly maybe. it depends on how you act when it hits. her response shook you a bit: you had just scored the lead in the nutcracker and your costume was so pretty, you had to wear it at least once and then she could do whatever she wanted with you as long as she destroyed your guts beforehand! :) 

your little tote bag was near your feet on the floor as you hummed along to the rap song blasting through her speakers, lightly bobbing your head. ellie’s—large and veiny and tattooed—hand had been sitting on your upper thigh for the entire ride as she drove in a relaxed position, head resting against the back of her seat. you caught glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye whenever she licked or bit her lips. her small habits made your thighs squeeze together, before she silently pried them back open with her free hand to rest it there again. you wanted her to make you cum so bad you’d pay her extra for it—

“this your place?” she rasped out in shock as she parked in front of your dance academy dorms. damn, she thought. you weren’t kidding, you’re not a stripper. 

“uh huh! it’s even prettier inside! marble floors and everything, i love it here so much!” you said with an excited grin that made her smile lightly. such a cutie, she thought. 

“huh,” she hummed in acknowledgment. she reached over your lap to pop open her glove box to retrieve the little ziplock baggie filled with green buds and grinder before your eyes widened in shock. 

“oh are… um… are we smoking right here? like out in the open?” 

“mhm.” she replied blankly before she smirked. “what, is your headmaster gonna come out and give you a spanking or something?” 

you wanted her to spank you so bad—

“no! i’m just asking, i’ve never done it outside before!” 

“oh yeah? you never done it outside?” she replied silkily while she packed the spoon of the pipe. 

you shivered and she caught it and please fuck me right here! i don’t care who sees!—

“i never used one of those before, it’s pretty,” you nodded towards the packed bowl. 

“thank you,” she said simply. “lemme show you how to do it.” 

after some simple instructions that you haven't payed attention to because her hands were distracting you, you nodded absentmindedly. what the fuck was she talking about again—

“are you even listening?” she said with a raised eyebrow that had a fucking slit in it oh, ohhh you might die—

when you shook your head no, she snorted before she grabbed her lighter from your hand. 

“here. watch me.” 

you watched closely as she lit the crushed green buds in the bowl, finger over a little hole on the side of the pipe before she lit it and breathed in, exhaling the smoke in a circular little cloud in front of her mouth. she looked back at you with a little see? simple. 

she’s so fucking sexy and you’re probably dripping all over her leather seats—

“show me again?” you squeaked out. 

she only slightly nodded with a cunning grin as she looked at you before she repeated her previous actions and blew the smoke away from you, handing you the pipe again. you pushed it away from you gently. 

“you’re gonna make me smoke all this by myself?” 

“i want you to do it for me… like blow it… blow it in my mouth?” you said shyly. your mind was cloudy. 

she didn’t say anything, but you could see the pleasant surprise on her face, releasing a light chuckle before she lit the bowl, yet again!, inhaling the smoke and holding it before she gripped for your cheeks with her slightly calloused hand, pulling you so close that your noses were touching. your mouth dropped open on instinct, and slowly exhaled the smoke into your mouth. 

you could barely inhale due to the pounding in your head and your chest and your swollen fucking clit—

ellie hardly even cared about you wasting a rip that good. she slowly slipped her tongue into your already open mouth, making you whimper as you wrapped your lips around it, sucking it further into your mouth. she released a satisfied hum that rattled your throat. and speaking of your throat—

she released your cheeks, sliding her large hand down to wrap around it, squeezing the sides and gauging your reaction. you were about to call her daddy, holy fuck, you wanted her fuckin’ kids—

“c’mere.” and fuck, you jumped her bones so quick. 

you were finally in her lap and you immediately started grinding on her leg like a cat in heat. 

she hurriedly sat the pipe on her dashboard, her free hands quickly taken in yours, bringing them up to your tits as you felt her squeeze them, tossing your head back with a whine.

“yeah? feels fucking good?” 

“yeah, yesyesyes—“

you weren’t even high and you were so close to cumming, you couldn’t imagine how crazy you’d be going if you smoked properly. you’d probably be creaming all over her seats and windows by now. 

you grinded down harder on her, your clit bumping up against your lavender sweats and her jeans and toned leg and you couldn’t stop crying out and oh, you were gonna cum in your panties—

ellie must’ve sensed it because she dropped her hands from your tits to your hips, mindfully avoiding your freshly wrapped tattoo(she’s such a sweetie, isn’t she?), and pulled you down onto her leg as she lifted it up to press harder against your clit just right and you lost it. 

all that tension that built over the last two hours crashed into you as you threw your head allll the back and came inside your sheer little panties. you bounced on her thigh as she held your hips to help you grind out your high. ellie slowly licked up your exposed throat to your chin to your bottom lip before she shoved her tongue into your mouth in a messy, wet kiss. fuck, you were so in love already—

“take these off, baby, c’mon, wanna see,” she said dazed against your mouth, tugging down  the waistband of your bottoms. you clumsily rested your weight against her wheel as you leaned back, a loud honk! ringing through the dimly lit, empty lot. it made you both jump and laugh as she wrapped her arm around your back to move you away from it. she used the space between you to pull down your panties and sweats just enough to expose your sopping cunt. she looked like she wanted to tear you apart. she could rip you to shreds if she wanted you’d let her do anything to you—

she didn’t say anything as her thumb rubbed your clit, making you buck your hips up against her hang with a whine. 

she dipped two fingers down to your slit that was practically dripping all over her seats, and she hates herself for not bringing her dick with her because, fuuuuck, she would’ve slipped right in—

you felt her fingers push inside with little resistance, her car immediately being filled with both your groans and wet noises of your cunt. your walls squeezed the shit out of her fingers to pull them in closer.

you were a mess: at some point you’d removed your sweatshirt and tee, your tits out, and she was watching you play them, entranced, until you slipped a hand down to where she was inside you, grabbing her wrist to pull out and brought her slicked up fingers to your nipples, rubbing your wetness into your stiff peaks. ellie let out a quiet groan of shiiiit! before she slapped them both, bringing her head forward to suck the wetness from your tits, moaning at the taste of you.

she dropped her hand back down to slip her fingers inside your cunt again, wiggling them around until she pressed up against that one spot that made you see god—

“yeah? right there, baby? like that?” 

“ye—aaAhh, el, oh my fuckin’ god your gonna make me cum again!—“ 

“fuckin’ want it, nasty fucking slut, give it to me, wan’ it all over me.” 

your eyes were rolled into your skull, yes im your slut i’m your slut! being the only thing on your mind. your legs were trembling and you were so. fucking. wet. and you couldn’t fucking think about anything other than her her her—

“cum on my fingers so i can take you upstairs and stick my tongue inside you.” 

and you died. you’re dead now. you screamed her name out into the car as you squirted all over her arm and jeans and seats and you just kept fucking cumming and ellie swore that she was going to marry you one day!—

you finally started to come down after she slapped your pussy a couple times. your orgasm had felt like it lasted minutes and you almost plopped onto the car floor in exhaustion, but ellie caught you before you could, pulling you back to her chest to connect her mouth with yours in a heavy kiss. 

she grabbed your ass in both hands before bringing her hand down in a loud slap! as you moaned in her mouth, and it made her hit you again, harder. 

she allowed you to pull back to regain your composure before you said with a pout, “i have to be up at five tomorrow.” it was almost midnight. 

she laughed loudly before bringing your panties and pants back up around your waist before helping you put your shirt on before easing you back into the passenger's seat. you missed her warmth already. you grabbed your tote off the floor after carefully placing the discarded pipe and lighter into a small pocket with a soft c’mon before you opened the door to get out. ellie rolled the window down so she could respond. 

“wait. you want me to come inside?” 

“inside me? yeah.” 

she let out a choked laugh before she said, “you’re nasty as fuck, jesus christ.” 

“i sure am! now come sit on my face? my roomie’s sleeping so you might have to stick my panties in your mouth just in case!” you said with the brightest grin. “you can wake up me up for rehearsals with your tongue in my pussy, too, if you want!” 

oh my fucking god? ellie thought, her eyes glossing over with a hazy look on her face. yeah. i’m making her a fucking housewife.

[ghouljams]

Sometimes as a ballerina you have to talk to people, especially as the lead. Opening night means you get a few reporters asking for your thoughts on the performance, your thoughts on ballet, your thoughts on whatever they can think of. You love it, it's a blessing to have people enjoy your work and want to talk to you about it. You smile your brightest for the reporter holding out their phone for you to talk into.

"You look like you're having a lot of fun when you perform," they say, it's almost a question. You laugh and pick at the edge of your tutu.

"I am having fun, it's a blast," You try not to shift too much on your feet. The reporter nods.

"And what about the male lead?" The reporter asks, "You don't see many dancers his size, what's it been like working with him?"

"He's been great," You can feel König's come dripping out of you, kept tight against your sopping cunt by your tights, "a consumate professional through and through."

[diordeer]

౨ৎ LOVER, YOU SHOULD’VE COME OVER [00]

“it's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter. it's never over, she is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever” - jeff buckley (smau)

↳ MASTERLIST | NEXT

CONTAINS charlie bushnell x fem!reader

DESCRIPTION reader plays as artemis in season 3 of percy jackson (can we pls pretend artemis is in an older body), and also does ballet .. there is no specific face claim but she is white with blonde hair

TAGLIST if u would like to join comment or dm me :)

CHAPTERS

00. introduction (you are here!)

01. chapter one

02. coming soon

[callofdooty69]

this + price and ballerina!reader ?!? HELLO?!?!

cw: mentions of child neglect (minor), profanity, injury, bullying, f!reader, use of y/n

****

growing up, your parents weren’t around very often. working constantly and out of the house was frustrating enough, let alone being left discarded to the side while all of the other kids got to get their nails painted with their moms and go to the daddy-daughter dances. you were raised through money and a bitchy babysitter. they always “made it up to you” with random expensive gifts, half of which you didn't even relate to. the minute you asked to join your friend in lessons, they signed you up as soon as they could, as long as it meant not bothering them.

you loved it, spending almost all of your free time training and practicing for upcoming concerts and lessons. it was your life, your dream. you loved it as much as it seemed to love you. however, it took a turn.

when you were fifteen, you broke your foot. it was horrible, it got to the point where you were kicked off of your team because you couldn’t perform and “weren’t meeting the standards like the rest of the class”

you were miserable. ballet was the only thing you could use to cope, to be happy, and now it was taken away from you and ripped away from your hands in the blink of an eye.

you missed being on stage and practicing. after a seven grueling months, you were finally cleared to practice again. feeling ecstatic, the first thing you did when you got home was put on your ballet slippers and trained. you were incredibly nervous, worried you would damage your foot again. but by going slow and not straining yourself, you got back into your normal routine again.

you were yourself.

your parents signed up for a different ballet studio, one that you admired and hoped of joining. they accepted you practically on the spot, seeing as you were one of the best at your old studio. you had dedication, you were committed to it.

during college, you weren’t able to practice as much because of your studies. any minute you had free that didn’t require you to spend time reviewing notes, you went to the local ballet theatre that was free use from 5:00 - 9:00 pm. the stress seamed to float out of your body when you practiced, following the beats of the music and going out into the cool breeze after sweating.

you were now in your early thirties, earning a major in dance studies and living in a new city. you were the happiest you ever had been, loving the freedom you had. your new studio was lovely, filled with supportive teachers and peers, people that were in love with dance just as much as you were.

the next two weeks were the hardest you had experienced. the biggest concert you’ve ever been in was coming up and you had to train almost 24/7. the worst part was the ridicule you faced from you peers, the people you thought were friends.

after the list for the final cast of “swan lake” came out, you looked for your name, only to reveal you were the understudy for the lead role. you were frustrated with yourself, but you had been an understudy before and still worked just as hard. everyone in the class knew your potential, and once they got the news that you were the understudy, the backhanded compliments came from left and right. it was embarrassing, but you tried your hardest not to let it get to you. you needed to focus, and this was the best opportunity for you to do so.

to prove them wrong.

you spent the entire day before the concert date training, barely giving yourself any breaks. from 6:00 am to midnight, it was all you did. the studio was surprisingly empty, everyone else probably practicing at home. the one time you gave yourself a break was for food, walking to a local coffee shop and ordering tea and some small pastries. that was when you saw him.

hearing all of the commotion from outside and everyone in the café running to the road, you looked through the window, facing into one of the clear spots, and seeing military men in uniform walking down main street. you knew one of the local bases in your city recently went on deployment and, apparently, they were finally back.

you met a few of them, a scottish man and a british brute talking to you in a bar a few months ago. you didn’t think much of it, just a simple conversation for an hour or so before they had to leave. you also knew after every deployment, there would be a huge load of women swooning over them in the street as they walked by. it was slightly agitating, watching everyone gush over, very obviously, exhausted men that didn’t even look their way.

you went back to eating and enjoying your book, hearing the familiar jingling of the bells on the café’s door. you didn’t look up, figuring one of the workers was back after watching the “parade” to finish their shift. up until the person walked in, you were the only one left in the shop for a solid ten minutes.

you heard them shuffling their shoes on the large rug in front of the door, most likely scuffing off the rain pellets that they walked on. no one thought twice about walking out with an umbrella, taking the risk of catching a cold. you saw the thunder rolling in, expecting a large storm over the night.

you lost track of time, looking at your watch and seeing that it was 1:19 pm. ‘shit!’ you whispered, rushing to put everything back in your bag and sat up. seeing that all of the workers were still outside, you reached behind the counter to grab a to-go box and cup for your tea and the pastries you had leftover.

looking around to see who entered the shop earlier, you saw a tall man, probably around 6’2” ish, with a hat in his hand, a uniform on, panting from the cold and probably from running to get somewhere warm, combing through his wet hair from the rain.

‘christ almighty, he’s hot’

as if he sensed you staring, he looked your way and flashed a smile, one that could literally blind someone with how beautiful it was. your eyes widened, feeling your face flush with embarrassment and forcing a small smile and nod. you speed-walked past him to get out the door, fleeing the scene of one of the most humiliating moments of your life. when you got outside, you watched the rain drop onto the concrete as you walked back to the studio.

you felt like you were missing something, something important. you paused and stood to the left of the sidewalk as to let others pass you by. searching for what it could be, you looked through your bag. everything was there, your phone, keys, wallet, book…

“fuck!”

you ran back to the café, hoping and praying to any gods who were listening that no one stole them after you left. feeling the hard rain drops against your skin and hair didn’t make things any better, your glasses getting wet from bolting down the street. you luckily didn’t get too far away, swinging the door open only to be met by a wall.

except it wasn’t a wall. no, no NO

you took a step back, your breathing heavy from the running. looking upwards, you saw the same man from before, holding your ballet slippers. ‘so they weren’t stolen’

“lookin’ for these?” he said, drawing your attention back into reality after staring at his handsome face for what felt like an eternity.

you looked down and smiled to yourself as you sighed. “oh my god, thank you, i was so worried they were stolen!” you laughed. he chuckled alongside you and flashed that same gorgeous smile from earlier.

“‘s no worries, saw ‘em on the floor by the table after you left ‘nd was gonna try and find you to give ‘em back”

“yeah, i think they might have slipped out of my bag before i left.”

he paused for a moment and you swore he was staring directly into your soul. “i’m john,” he stated, reaching out a hand. “y/n” you responded as you shook his hand.

“‘s a pleasure to meet you” you could feel your face heating up again, telling yourself it was just from the freezing weather outside. “likewise”

you both stood there a moment, staring at him until you felt the need to look down at the marble floor in the front of the door. “can i walk you back? don’t want ya’ gettin’ trampled out there.” he said.

you nodded, laughing as he held the door for you. ‘hot AND a gentleman?? jesus’

the walk was silent, the rain only slowing to a light drizzle compared to before. the cloudy skies were still above you, hinting at another storm approaching soon. though the atmosphere reached a comfortable silence, you let your curiosity wander as you struck a conversation. “so… do you live in the area? you look familiar.”

he looked at you, smiling when he responded. “sort of… i’m captain of the military task force just on the outskirts of the city. we don’t stay here long, goin’ on deployment a few days after we get back from our last one. we’re stayin’ for a few months or so this time, unless plans get interrupted.”

“that’s great! i’ve probably seen you at these rally-things or whatever. how long have you been in the military? if you don’t mind me asking.”

“i don’t mind at all, been stuck with the fellas back there for ‘bout ten years give or take.”

“oh, so you must’ve joined pretty young. i mean, you don’t look a day over thirty.” you chuckled.

he joined with you, seeming amused at your remark. “as much as i’m flattered, i’d have to say you’re wrong. joined when i was 23 and have been around a few bases. i’m 40 now.”

‘fourty?? four oh??? this guys lying.’

“please, you’re really forty? god what does that make me.”

“well, i know you’re not supposed to ask a lady’s age, but how old are you?”

you looked up at him and smiled, “i’m 33, turning 34 next monday.”

“well, now you’re just a liar.”

“how am i a liar!? you don’t look even close to fourty compared to me.”

“i guess that makes us both guilty now, hmm.”

before you knew it, you were already outside the studio. you didn’t want to leave, you barely knew him and he snuck his way into your heart. he held the door again, gesturing for you to go in first and you both wiped your shoes on the tattered mat inside. you turned the lights on, unlocking the room you were practicing in. “welcome to my humble abode.” you said.

"what, you live here?"

"basically. don't really go to my apartment much anymore. i mean, anything i need i can get right here."

"fair enough" he smirked.

there was a moment of silence, standing close enough that you could see how dark his eyelashes were, how the light shined in his eyes and made the most beautiful amber color. the tension in the room could be cut by a knife.

“can i ask you something?” he whispered.

“anything”

“i know we just met… but, are you free anytime soon? i’d like to get to know you more.”

your eyes widened, a dark blush sweeping across your face. “i’d really like that,” you responded.

“great. what about tomorrow?”

you mentally kicked yourself in the ass. “shit, i have my concert tomorrow. maybe you could come and we could get drinks after or something?”

he smiled, “that would be lovely. swan lake, right? i saw on the board out front.”

“oh yeah, i know i’m just an understudy but if all goes well we can celebrate together…?”

“an understudy is still part of the production, the most important part even. i would love to see it, even if you aren’t on stage.”

your face was now a bright red. “that means a lot. god, this is so weird no one has ever gone to see me before.”

“really? maybe you’ll have something to look forward to then.”

you laughed and looked down at your shoes. you didn’t get very far before he put his finger on the underside of your chin, raising your face up to look at him. “i’ll be there.” he smiled. “i should probably get goin’ now, gotta make sure the lads don’t kill each othe-”

you pecked him on the cheek, standing on the tops of your toes before he could get any farther with his sentence. “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

he was the one blushing now. “it’s a date”

****

arghargharghargh

idk if i like this but i definitely wanna continue this one because i have some ideas planned for it 😈

also i know he’s definitely not forty but just stick with me it makes sense in the storyline trust 😭🤞

feel free to send any requests to my inbox or comments, likes and reblogs are much appreciated lovelies ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

- 𝓀.𝒿

[elliesmainhoe]

Ellie Williams Headcanons: Ballerina!Reader

Ellie has a love hate relationship with you doing ballet.

For one, your graceful, beautiful, elegant and poised

On the other hand, your self-conscious, your always tired and she barely sees you because your always at the studio.

It was like ballet was stealing her girlfriend.

She has threatened to beat up your dance teacher before.

100% judges you when your lying on the kitchen floor smashing your pointe shoes on the floor trying to break them in.

"What the fuck are you doin' angel?" Ellie asked you when she entered the apartment and saw you stretching on the black-and-white chequered flooring that tiled your kitchen, while smashing your new point shoes- making them crack and snap in your hands.

"I'm" you grunt, compressing the satin shoe under your hands "breaking in my pointe shoes"

"Your breaking your pointe shoes? The new pointe shoes you bought yesterday"

"yep"

She was very confused

But dw you explained it to her ofc <3

Loves going into dance shops with you- watching as you start talking about all the different leotards, tutus and tights.

Her petnames for you are 'little dove, angel and flower.'

Loves picking you up from dance practice. She pulls up all confident in her nice fancy car, honking her horn when you leave the buildings.

All the bitches you've complained about to her looking at you in jealousy.

Ugh it's great.

Her giving you massages whenever you say that your muscles are achey.

It had been 6 hours of practice. Six. Fucking. Hours of other dancers messing up choreography, chatting shit and not taking the routine seriously.

It was infuriating. You loved dance, you loved ballet, you really did. But after a day of ruthless exercise and girls draining your social battery you just wanted to be at home with Ellie.

Ellie knew this of course. So as soon as you got home she had a bath ready for you, topped with bubbles and surrounded by candles. She made you your favourite food and had poured you a glass of red wine. And when you finally go to bed, she pulls up your favourite movie and massages all of your achey spots while cuddling with you.

She's such a sweetheart.

She loves seeing you perform!!

And she loves showing you off just as much!

Takes all her friends to opening night of every single show that you have.

Loves coming backstage after and spinning you in circles- your hair half undone and your face fresh but still wearing the white costume.

She pretends to not know anything about ballet because she knows how much you like explaining and talking about it with her

She actually know everything about it.

Her fave ballet is the nutcracker because that's my favourite and I said so.

---------

A/N: I did ballet for 9 years and God it traumatized me.

Taglist: @aunslie @lonelyfooryouonly @prettypeoniesx @daryldixonh0e @kittynnie @lovelyyevelyn @randomhoex @moonlightdivine @haerinwho @mufflaa @mial1l @sarahsmileslikesarahd0esntcare @moonlighting87 @escaping-reality88 @magicalfreakcowboylawyer @hejdevkdbdjsd @dergy @half-of-a-gay @ellieismami @cyberlainn @gollumsmygel @sseorii @kyleeservopoulos @taloulalila @ellieluhme @kiiyoooo @delusionalvioleht @joelscharm

NOT PROOFREAD

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

the swan and her princess (part 2)

summary: Swan Lake isn’t all beauty and grace, contrary to popular belief. And you experience firsthand that as you wage a one-sided war with your “rival” for the role of Odette.

chapter summary: A pleasant surprise turns out to be possibly not so pleasant after all.

pairing: Gwen Stacy (Spider-Woman) x fem!Ballerina!Reader [aka some sort of a messy Ballet!AU]

word count: 2695

warnings: cussing, ballet terms, creative liberties taken since I’ve never been to Lincoln Center and the research I’ve done may or may not be fully accurate

a/n: :D got a little carried away with this one whoops doing this is much harder than i expected this au is taking up my entire brain pls help

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 (pending)

glossary:

Barre: A handrail used by ballet dancers to maintain balance while exercising. One hand is placed on the barre at all times, and the dancer stands beside it.

Kitri: The feisty and wilful heroine of the ballet Don Quixote. When her father Lorenzo tries to marry her off for money, she doesn’t play the victim, but hatches a plan to marry Basilio, the charming barber who has won her heart, and pursue her own version of happiness. As a dancer’s role, Kitri is athletic and demanding. Kitri wears striking red costumes (look them up, they’re really beautiful) and gestures expressively with a fan in a nod to her Spanish heritage.

Don Quixote: Don Quixote is a ballet in three acts, based on episodes taken from the famous novel Don Quixote de la Mancha by Miguel de Cervantes.

Kurta: A loose collarless shirt/dress of a type worn by people in South Asia, usually with a salwar, churidars, or pyjama.

Dupatta: A length of material arranged in two folds over the chest and thrown back around the shoulders, typically with a salwar kameez. Usually worn by women from South Asia.

Right after you set foot in the studio and dropped your bag in the corner, you made a beeline for the cacophonous, eagerly buzzing crowd that had formed around the cast list.

You saw a familiar duffel bag and raised your eyebrows slightly. Surprisingly, Gwen had showed up on time. Miracles really did exist.

Murmurs of disappointment and cheers of satisfaction rippled through the dancers in the room as they dispersed one by one, either wearing an expression of genuine excitement or a mask of disguised regret that they hadn’t tried harder or trained longer.

You pushed your way to the front, your eyes immediately darting to the name next to Odette. Your heart sank as you traced over the curly loops and sharper lines of the handwritten letters.

White Swan/Princess Odette : Patricia Roberts.

Pat…?

Sure, she was good, but she was always a little bit too fast for the pieces. She was brilliant at lightning-quick steps in speedy variations, but couldn’t ‘dance like a flowy fairy’, as your ballet teacher said, to save her life.

And the White Swan was all about being slow and sad and graceful.

Your eyes travelled further down the list, going through the roles of Odile, the cygnets, the general swans, and the royals. Each time, you were disappointed. By the time you reached the end of the list, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit anxious. Your name just… wasn’t there.

You were a part of this, right?

The entire class was taking part in this production. It wouldn’t make any sense for you to not be there. Even if it was just as a regular background swan.

“Can’t find your name either, huh?”

You hadn’t noticed that everyone else had broken off into excitedly chattering groups to start warming up and take their places at the barre, leaving only you and Gwen standing and craning your necks up at the piece of paper that seemed to decide your fate in the studio for the next few months.

You shook your head no, earning a sigh from Gwen that lasted longer than it probably should have.

“Well, we could ask Miss Walker, but she’s not here yet. So…” She shifted awkwardly beside you. You tried to observe her from your peripheral vision without being too obvious. She sounded… tired. Exhausted, really, like she hadn’t slept in a few days and then had to run a marathon around the city. She had done a pretty shoddy job of concealing the heavy dark circles under her eyes — which truly was saying something, because her makeup was usually immaculate.

Fuck. You couldn’t believe it, but for a moment you almost felt sorry for her. Well, maybe not just almost.

“Hey, uh… you good?” You winced at your attempt at a nonchalant tone. Gwen turned to look at you like you had sprouted a third head, slight confusion reflecting in her eyes.

You had never noticed them before, but she had nice eyes, honestly. The expressive kind that could show every little shift in her emotions if she didn’t hide it. And right now she looked like she was about to grin or crack a joke, so you fixed a scowl on your face to ward off any amusing thing she might have been gearing up to say.

The smile in her eyes faded.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Time to poke the bee’s nest. “You don’t sound—”

You were cut off as the studio doors flew open, and Miss Walker, looking extremely hassled, practically sprinted in. Random strands of hair poked out of her unusually-untidy bun, and her glasses were perched precariously on the tip of her nose. She held her phone in one hand and a clipboard in the other.

“Class, pointes on and everyone to the barre right now, please! Finish your second warmup, I’ll be right with you. Gwendolyn, Y/N, may I have a word with the two of you?”

We’re in trouble, mouthed Gwen with a comically scared, wide-eyed, completely exaggerated expression that was very childish and definitely should not have made you want to laugh. You bit the inside of your cheek to clamp down on your smile.

Your ballet teacher led you both over to a corner of the studio, adjusting her glasses right as they were about to fall off. “Okay, so I have some very good news for both of you. You might have noticed that your names weren’t on the final cast list at all, correct?”

You both nodded.

“As it turns out, you’ve been selected by the School of American Ballet to feature in New York City Ballet’s version of Swan Lake! And not selected for just any role — you girls are playing both Swans!”

The words took a few seconds to register in your mind. The sheer improbability of it all was phenomenal — two mere teenagers chosen to perform by the most prestigious ballet company in the world, to dance alongside some of the best professional ballerinas-in-the-making? This was a dream come true; was any of this real?

“You’re joking,” you heard Gwen say beside you. You felt like you were about to lift off and float all the way to the sky when your teacher just gave a broad, proud smile.

Everything after that was surrounded by a hazy glow of euphoric shock — blurred by excitement and lightheadedness and disbelief. You might’ve blacked out at one point, bracing yourself against the wall while you waited for your vision to clear.

Gwen suddenly narrowed her eyes in a wince, squinting as if she had a headache. “I’m so sorry, I have to go,” She mumbled hastily, before grabbing her bag and slipping out of the studio. And just like that, she was gone. Again.

You and Miss Walker exchanged a look of slight confusion, but she shrugged. “Well, you’re dismissed for today, Y/N. They’re expecting you tomorrow. You know where the company is, right?”

“Yes, miss.” Of course you did, which ballerina didn’t? Of all the best aspiring ballet dancers’ dream companies, New York City Ballet was right up there with The Royal Ballet in London, Paris Opera Ballet in France, and the Australian Ballet in Melbourne. In other words: this was a giant fucking deal and a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

You’d have to be beyond idiotic to blow it off.

You arrived at Lincoln Center (which housed the New York City Ballet), fresh-faced and a few minutes early. Well, maybe not so fresh-faced, since you could barely sleep because of nerves. Throughout the night, what felt like a million thoughts that were all variations of what if I’m not good enough? and maybe I’m not cut out for this plagued you well into the early hours of the morning.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Gwen, looking annoyingly (and most probably effortlessly) put-together and honestly quite fashionable. Did she have to have such perfect eyeliner? Even her hair tips seemed pinker than usual.

“Wow, you’re early for once,” You tried to load snark into your tone but failed miserably, earning you an insufferably relaxed chuckle from Gwen.

You shook your head and focused on trying to find the ballet company’s actual studio. Lincoln Center was comprised of a complex of buildings in a giant neighbourhood that you had never been in before, and the David H. Koch Theater which housed the New York City Ballet was just one of those many buildings spread over 16.3 acres.

You were lucky you two had arrived early, because it took you ten whole minutes trying to find the theater - because, as it turns out, you and Gwen had entered from a separate entrance from the main one. Finally you entered the studio, and for a while the only sounds were that of your shoes squeaking on the shiny wooden floors.

Something that struck you was just how big everything about it was.

The light fixtures that lined the walls cast yellow light all along the hallway, illuminating everything with a soft glow the colour of honeyed amber. Just walking that corridor made you feel like you were approaching a royal ballroom, floating around in a gown that could put Kitri’s costume from Don Quixote to shame.

You finally saw the door to the studio. Someone was waiting outside — a man in an all-black suit with close-cropped black hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. His face broke into a smile as he saw you and Gwen, and without waiting for you to fully make it to the door, he strode forward and clasped your hand.

“Welcome to New York City Ballet! I’m Carlos, the resident choreographer of this company. We’ve been expecting you! Your teacher has informed you of the production we are working on, yes?” He rattled all of this off at full speed in clipped, staccato pronunciations, so fast that it took you a second to register what he was saying.

“Swan Lake, right?” Gwen answered for you.

“Yes, yes. I assume you both know the combinations for both swans?” You nodded maybe a little too eagerly, eliciting a subtle eyebrow-raise from Carlos. “Very good. Come, I will introduce you to Shaoni. She is our support staff, and a former ballet mistress. She taught many young dancers who went on to become famous prima ballerinas. Don’t take her words too seriously; her bark is worse than her bite.”

He gave you a sympathetic smile and pushed open the double doors. Immediately the first thing you saw was a woman wearing a blue kurta with a gold-trimmed dupatta, her dark hair pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck. The thing that stood out most about her was her highly displeased scowl that had her looking like someone had insulted her entire bloodline three times over, spat in her face and then wrecked her favourite tutu.

Forget a simple resting bitch face, this was a prime, next-level display of an I’m-done-with-this-shit-and-I-need-a-vacation expression.

“Good morning, girls. My name is Shaoni Lahiri, you will address me as Miss Lahiri. You’re a bit early; please begin your warmup while we wait for the others. Also, our artistic director wanted to talk to you about your first day, so once he arrives meet him in his office.” Miss Lahiri had just finished her introductory monologue when her phone buzzed in her pocket with a notification.

Her eyes swiped over the lockscreen for a brief second before she tucked it away again, and you could’ve sworn you saw her roll her eyes slightly when she saw the name of the messager. “Mr. Osborn will see you now. The door to his office is in the far left corner of the studio. Try not to get lost, will you?” Even her sarcasm sounded effortlessly annoyed beyond relief.

And just like that, she abandoned you and went over to compare choreography notes with Carlos.

You turned and followed her directions, noticing a polished wooden door near the end wall of the studio. “Hey, wait for me!” Gwen had been busy gawking at the studio and, really, you couldn’t quite blame her. It truly was something else compared to the much smaller one you were used to.

You knocked once and pushed open the door once you heard a voice call out, “Come in!”

The moment the door swung open, you were immediately blinded by the brightest white light you had ever seen. The entire office looked like it had been bleached to within an inch of its life; there were no specks of dust to be seen and everything was neatly arranged in cupboards and on shelves.

“Oh, hello there!” Once your eyes had readjusted, you noticed a man with greying red-brown hair in a crisp suit with a green pinstripe jacket, an orange vest, and black pants. He sat with his hands clasped neatly on the lacquered teakwood desk in front of him, wearing a polite smile.

“You must be the new arrivals, yes? Let’s see, what are your names…” He opened a folder that had been pushed to one side of the desk, flicking through pages. “Gwen Stacy and Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Yes, that’s us,” You answered quickly, feeling slightly giddy with excitement as the truth sunk in properly. This wasn’t a dream, you had really been selected by the fucking New York City Ballet. You would be working alongside some of the best ballet dancers in the area. Better yet, you had more than a fair chance at dancing Odette. Of course, so did Gwen, but you were obviously the better choice… it wasn’t personal, really, just that she barely attended a full class and therefore should probably dance Odile instead.

“Excellent, excellent. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Norman Osborn, the artistic director of this company.” He stood up and shook your hand. He smiled at Gwen, but instead of smiling back, she just dropped her gaze, inhaling sharply as if she had been stung.

“Something’s not right with him,” She murmured to you the moment Mr. Osborn turned his back to retrieve a folder from his filing cabinet. “I can’t explain it, just… please trust me. I think he’s going to be a threat to us.”

You felt annoyance flare up inside you, white-hot maelstroms of anger expanding by the second. “Please excuse us, Mr. Osborn. Gwen and I need to discuss something.” You tried to sound as inconspicuous and well-mannered as you could. You grabbed Gwen’s shoulder and pulled her through the door, closing it behind you.

“Listen here,” You hissed, letting go of her. “I didn’t make it all this way and train for an extra four hours a day for three years just so you could blow this off. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re some sort of a package deal. So don’t you dare make up stuff and tell me this perfectly polite man is a threat. Is this some sort of scheme? You make me get cold feet, pretend like you’re dropping out, then when you convince me to leave the company you swoop in and snatch up the role of Odette? Is that what you’re playing at?”

Gwen stared at you in utter disbelief, rubbing her shoulder where your grip had tightened just a little too much. “What? No, of course not. I would never—”

“Okay, good. Now let’s get back in there and do whatever the hell he wants us to do, because this is the New York City Ballet and we are not leaving till we’re done with this production, got it?”

For a split second, intense desperation marred her features and she looked like she was about to cry. Then, just as quickly as it had come, all the vulnerability displayed on her face disappeared — but not from her eyes. Her mouth and eyebrows were relaxed, cool, but her eyes shone with a feverish light that made her look a bit manic. Finally she took a deep breath and glared levelly at you.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Something about her tone would have sent a shiver down your spine if you hadn’t been so pumped up about this whole ordeal. You dismissed it easily, penning it, possibly, as the sullen disappointment of a plotter whose evil scheme hadn’t gone quite according to plan.

You entered the office again, Gwen trailing behind you reluctantly, and gave Mr. Osborn a big smile. “You were saying?”

He passed you and Gwen two sheets of paper and a pen. “Sign this. It’s a contract that officialises your stay at this company for the duration of this production.”

You signed it eagerly. Gwen, who was studying the words intently, noticed your impatience and signed it too.

“Perfect,” said Norman Osborn, giving you a big smile. Was it just you, or did it look more plastic this time…?

Nope, definitely just you. He carefully filed the sheets away and clasped your hand in a handshake once again. “Welcome to New York City Ballet. I’m sure this contract will prove to be beneficial to the both of us.”

Gwen dropped her eyes to the floor. Probably just her odd headaches acting up again.

Taglist:

@hobiebrownismygod @l0starl @therealloopylupin2099 @theprismyyy

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Rooster’s Ballerina 🩰 | Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw Headcanon

Link to my TGM Masterlist

Rooster dating a professional ballerina would look like:

Majoring in dance at UVA, you met Rooster when he and some of his buddies decided to attend the university’s annual ballet rendition of “The Nutcracker,” their senior year because his friend was dating a dance student. You played the Sugar Plum Fairy & to be honest, Rooster was close to falling asleep until it his eyes landed on you, captivating the future pilot during your solo. Rooster could not keep his eyes off of you, leaning toward is friend to ask, “who’s she?” His friend replied, “oh that’s, Y/n L/n. She’s a junior I believe—and word on the street is the New York City Ballet Company has their eyes on her for when she graduates.” Rooster didn’t have to be a dancer to know that was a big deal, just the way his friend said it was enough to figure out the company was the best of the best. Kinda like how Top Gun was the best of the best for fighter pilots.

Your talent for the art of ballet was evident right from the moment you stepped foot in a ballet studio. So much so that your parents homeschooled you up until high school so you could dedicate all your time and energy into ballet. At one point you got the chance to audition for Juliard, but an injury to your ankle resulted in you having to miss out. Thankfully UVA had sent a scout to your hometown after your instructor emailed a bunch of universities to come see you perform when you were healed, and they offered you a full ride under their program.

After the show ended, Rooster couldn’t get you out of his mind. Even when he left to his apartment and throughout winter break, he often thought of you and the way you glided across the stage. The sparkles of your outfit shined against the light, pulling in everyone’s attention. Smile bright and eyes glowing, you were like a siren luring him in, moving so effortlessly Rooster never wanted you to stop. He could watch you dance forever.

Spring semester came around and Rooster couldn’t believe his luck when you were standing behind him in the Starbucks early one morning. Feeling bold, he whispered to the cashier, “this is to cover the lady behind me,” handing over an extra $10 bill on top of the payment for his order. The cashier gave a knowing look, Bradley moving to the side to wait for his coffee and trying (but failing) to not watch your reaction. A smirk had already made its way onto his face when you strolled up, “i don’t know if I should feel flattered or offended that you payed for my drink, Mr…..” “Bradley Bradshaw.” “Well, Bradley, care to explain why over our cups of coffee?”

Basically Rooster came clean to you saying he was the friend of your classmates boyfriend and saw you perform at the winter recital. “I’m sorry if you find it weird, but when I recognized you in line….I felt drawn to you. I just would love to get to know you better if you’d let me.” Needless to say that unintentional coffee date was the beginning of your love story with Bradley. You two were inseparable after that, falling in love each day and knowing you two were each other’s soulmate.

You attended his graduation and commission ceremonies and Bradley went to every recital/show you were in. Sometimes he’d pick you up from practice and would just watch you with absolute awe, other times he’d ask to lift you just for the hell of it. Always bringing you snacks, Bradley would scold you if you missed a meal because you were in a hurry or had a busy day and forgot. “Babydoll you gotta be fed before you train otherwise you’ll be tired quicker and feeling like crap.” You weren’t on a diet or anything so sometimes he’d bring you fast food or pick up a sandwich/salad at a grocery store just so you has some food in you.

Bradley was so supportive of you, and you were of him. A difficult time in your relationship was having to be long distance for about three years after you graduated. Bradley was finished with flight school, now an active duty naval fighter pilot which had him bouncing between bases whenever an assignment came up. You were recruited to the New York City Ballet Company, a dream of yours since beginning ballet, and was not going to pass up the opportunity of a lifetime. That meant you would be living in New York, while Bradley could end up who knows where. Thankfully his first duty station was on the east coast so he got to visit you a lot. And Rooster never missed a show—especially when you were the lead role. He was your biggest fan, giving you a standing ovation when no else would. “You were incredible, babydoll. The best ballerina out there—I’m so proud of you.”

Rooster is the type of guy who would have your picture on his desk/nightstand. The one at work is you during your performance of Swan Lake, which he loves to brag about when coworkers point it out. “Oh that’s my ballerina. She’s amazing—the best in the country.” On his nightstand is a black and white photo of you during practice up on arabesque, smiling at the camera. It’s one of his favorites and also keeps it as his screensaver.

After doing some time with the NYC Ballet Company, you wanted to be closer to Rooster, satisfied you lived your dream of dancing with the best dance company in the country, and had the honor of being the lead in Swan Lake & Gisele, while also being the Sugar Plum Fairy and Snow Queen in The Nutcracker. There were plenty of other dance companies in the country, plus you always dreamed of opening your own dance studio—but that would come once Rooster retires and you two found a place to settle.

So, after you left the NYC Ballet Company you and Rooster got married after 5 years of dating and you followed him wherever he went. When he went to San Diego for Top Gun, you found a studio where the owner allowed you to practice free of charge if you helped teach the students. Of course you agreed and it just reaffirmed your dream of opening your own studio. The kids were so amazing and you loved sharing the art of ballet with them. Many asked for you to tell stories of your time in New York & asked you to dance for them after their lessons concluded. “What’s your favorite ballet, Miss. Y/n?” “Oh that is difficult to answer. I love all of them, but my absolute favorite of all time is Swan Lake.”

After several years of traveling with Rooster, he could tell you were longing to be part of a company again. So when the orders came he was assigned to the Strike Fighter Squadron 87 at NAS Oceana, he looked to the skies and thanked whoever above because it meant you could go back to New York & he would be in Virginia again. You nearly cried when he told you, especially when he encouraged to audition again, “really? You’re sure you wont mind? I know we talked about—.” “Baby, you’ve spent your whole life wanting to dance for them—you left once to support me, now i’m going to support you. We survived doing three years of it, we can do it again and I will be at every show cheering you on.”

Rooster kept his promise. You couldn’t believe the company accepted you back again, especially after so many years had passed and you weren’t 22-24 anymore. You were now pushing early thirties—but still danced like you did in college. A lot of the younger girls and guys looked up to you, asking for advice or a second opinion on where improvement was needed. Every Friday night Rooster was leaving Virginia for New York & would stay the entire weekend. You two would always explore, go on dates, and Rooster would even sit in on your afternoon practice—-which the younger girls would get flustered much to your amusement. “Your husband is very handsome, Y/n.” “I love how he’s so supportive of you. I wish my boyfriend was like that.” “Honey, if your man isn’t supportive of you and your career, then you deserve better.”

When Rooster was selected for the 2019 Top Gun special detachment, it had only been two years since you returned to NYC. Rooster encouraged you to stay, not wanting you to leave again after you’d been selected as the Sugar Plum Fairy once again for the upcoming performance of ‘The Nutcracker’. “It’s three weeks, Y/n. Before you know it I’ll be back. They wouldn’t have called me if they didn’t think I could get the job done.” “If they’re not telling you the details right now then it’s gotta be serious, Bradley. What if—what if I never you see you again. You’re my husband dammit—I’m not gonna sit here, on the other end of the country, worried out of my mind.”

In the end he won the argument, but on the condition he kept you updated with the details of the mission. FaceTimes were every night, with Rooster telling you on day one of training that Maverick was the instructor. You’d never met the man, meeting Bradley after their falling out, but had knowledge of all their history. When he told you Phoenix was there you had a sense of relief. Natasha was someone you could trust and would tell you if Rooster was hiding something. Worry filled you at the mention of Hangman being a candidate, well aware the pilot was a ‘every man for himself.’ You never formally met him, but the stories were enough for you to not trust him to have your husbands back.

Speaking of worry, you were worried to the point of throwing up when Rooster told you he was selected for the mission after confessing it was so high-risk, the higher up’s saw it as a suicide mission. Tears were shed over the phone, Rooster promising to come back to you. “I promise, baby, im gonna come home to you. I have to so I can watch you dance—I promised you all those years ago i would never miss a show.”

When he did return home, you nearly slapped him after he told you what he did. Disobeying orders to save Maverick and getting shot down. You were furious with him. “Were you out of your mind?! You could’ve fucking died, Bradley!!! What the hell were you thinking?!” “Mav told me not to think……”

A month later it was Christmas in New York. The night of the show you were backstage in your robe with hair and makeup done when the stage assistant said, “Mrs. Bradshaw, there’s some people here for you.” Following them out, your jaw dropped at the sight of the group standing in the backstage lounge. Rooster, Maverick and a group of gentleman—including Hangman—were dressed in their Dress Blues, each holding a red rose, and Phoenix wearing a gorgeous red gown. “Oh my gosh, what is this?!” You went to Rooster’s embrace, the man kissing your cheek to not mess up your lipstick. Taking the rose, you then greeted Nat—who also had a rose.

After the mission was a success, Rooster let it skip he was married when he said, “although I survived, I feel my wife is gonna kill me when I tell her what I did.” Immediately everyone—including Mav—was like, “Hold up, you got a wife?!” That then had an hour long monologue from Rooster basically telling y’all’s love story….and making it well known you were one of the best ballerinas in the country. “Damn, Bradshaw,” some said when he showed the program of the show you headlines. “Can I have some of that game you have?” The second he mentioned you had a performance coming up the squad was like, “looks like we’re going on a road-trip to see a ballet show.”

Introducing you to the squad, Bob, Fanboy, Hangman, Coyote, and Payback each shook your hand and presented the rose. You pretty much had a bouquet at that point with all of them together. “So nice to meet the lady who captured Bradshaw’s heart,” Hangman smiled, surprising you with how genuine he was. When you looked at Bradley, his nod signified he was cool with the pilot, so you welcomed Hangman with an open mind. Mav was really excited to meet you, shaking your hand while saying, “it’s an absolute pleasure to meet you, Y/n—.” You surprised the captain by pulling him into a hug, “thank you. Thank you for saving him.”

After some small talk and wishing you luck, you were called to dress and the audience was to take their seats. Rooster gave you a soft kiss, whispering, “you’re going to do amazing, baby. Good luck and dance your heart out.” Thanking him, you kissed him again and waved goodbye as the stage assistant ushered them to their seats.

Rooster wasn’t kidding when he told the squad you were one of best ballerinas in the country. You lived up to the reputation he had given you. Dancing to the music, the light bouncing off the sparkles of your outfit, they were captivated by you, just like Rooster was the first time he saw you dance. “Wow,” they all murmured during your solo. Hangman leaned into Coyote to whisper, “well there’s one thing for sure, if they have babies, they’re gonna be talented in whatever they do.”

It was deja vu for Rooster, coming full circle because once again he watched you as the Sugar Plum Fairy—only this time you were his wife and soulmate, not just the girl he admired and only knew by name. You were his ballerina.

……………..

TGM Tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan, @caitsymichelle13, @poppyalice2001

[elsweetheart]

self serving bc i’m an exhausted ballerina :(

but ballerina!reader coming back to college!abbys dorm after the longest day in the dance studio, sleepy, tiredly ranting about other people not pulling their weight or messing up your choreo, and abby of course lends a listening ear. however, the sports therapy major can’t help but notice just how tense you are after your day and offers to help. the help, obviously being sleepily laying with your back to her, head resting against her shoulder, legs splayed open and her large hand wrapped around a vibrator, buzzing against your cunt as she presses lazy open mouthed kisses to your neck and praising you quietly whilst you’re whining and mumbling incoherently, soaking the toy as she takes your stress away :(

[vxntagedior]

ballerina!reader bringing james into the studio so he can partner her

"put your hands here, and all you do is just help me turn." you instructed. james nodded, watching as you prepped, and turned en pointe.

his hands hovered over your waist, just slightly continuing to help you turn.

"alright, you wanna try a lift?" you were a little nervous but you knew james wouldn't let you fall. "hold onto my waist, and push me up as far as you can."

following your words, james obliged, feeling up in the air, you cambre your back, letting your arms fall into 3rd position, letting your foot come to coupe.

"you look beautiful angel." james smiled, bringing you down, "my pretty dancer."

[godlessandwrecked]

pas de deux | e. munson

a chance encounter sparks up an unexpected friendship, and suddenly, eddie is thrown into your world of shades of pink, tulle and classical music.

PAIRING: eddie munson x fem ballerina!reader

WORD COUNT: 7k

CONTENTS: suggestiveness, friends to lovers, cutesy girly ballerina reader, a bunch of clichés, eddie being a flirt, absolutely no knowledge about ballet, only the first little bit in eddie’s pov the rest is reader’s, no upside down just vibes x

A/N: this is literally 7k words of pure fluff, which is not my forte, but it’s very much needed….for obvious reasons…. you’re welcome <333

He hadn’t meant to pry on you, staring at you from the shadows, unannounced as he was, but…he couldn’t help it. He was stuck to the place the moment he laid eyes on you, unable to move a single digit or rip his gaze away from your dancing form.

He’d been roaming the school hallways during his free period, making his way out towards the woods, when he heard the music coming from the gym–that sad, melancholic weeping of strings. The door was slightly ajar, enough for him to peek in, and he just had to take a look, too curious in nature to go on about his business.

And there you were, floating above the wooden floor like an apparition. For a second, he thought you were a ghost. He could have sworn there was a white mist surrounding you, some kind of shimmering aura covering your body, tangling around your outstretched limbs and twirling form.

Eddie had never seen such a thing. It was painful to watch, really–such a tragic and beautiful thing–the way you glided gracefully to haunting violins, the music emitting through the battered speakers of a cassette player.

Standing on your tiptoes and spinning around seemingly effortlessly, your expression was saying everything that couldn’t be put into words. You were moving with so much passion, he was almost brought to tears, struck with an overwhelming emotion and an incomprehensible heavy chest. He felt like he was in a dream, so sure he was seeing some type of magical creature straight out of a fairy tale; some kind of sorceress, messing with his mind, right there, in front of his eyes.

He didn’t know how long he stood there for. He only became aware of his surroundings again once the music died down, as you came to the end of your routine, stopping in your tracks to hold a perfectly poised pose, your chest heaving up and down. And that’s when, unfortunately for Eddie, you noticed you weren’t alone in the gym.

You caught his reflection in the mirror behind you, letting out a startled gasp and a slight jump when you saw him. Eddie quickly turned away as your eyes locked with his, and was about to turn around to run out of the room when, “Hey!”

Eddie cursed himself under his breath, damning his stupid curiosity. Now he would have to come up with some explanation as to why he was watching you, and assure you he wasn’t a creep–even though he was being a creep–and make sure you understood he didn’t make a habit out of spying on teenage girls.

Great. Another tally on the board of why Eddie The Freak is, indeed, a freak.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to creep on you, that was weird,” he admitted, stepping into the room and approaching you in small, careful steps.

“Didn’t see you there. Were you watching for long?”

He frowned.

You were smiling.

“Not really,” he scratched his head. “I was just passing by and I heard the music, s’all.”

“That’s okay. I’d be curious, too.”

You weren’t mad? Okay, maybe he was dreaming.

He wasn’t used to talking to pretty, popular girls, and even though he always seemed to know what to say, he was at a loss. He knew who you were, your social circle made up of cheerleaders and basketball jocks, and the chances of weirding you out by saying the wrong thing were plenty. You were like a mythical creature, and he guessed it was hard for a mere human like him to know what to say to a unicorn once you were face to face with one.

The appropriate thing to do would be to apologize again and make his exit, but Eddie had never been the appropriate kind, and his tongue worked faster than his brain. “I had never seen anyone dance like that before. It’s beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you coyly smiled, looking down slightly embarrassed. You seemed taken aback by his honesty–even he was surprised by his own confession. “That’s very kind.”

“You looked like one of those little figurines in the music box thingys, you know? With the spinning-” he wriggled his finger.

You let out a genuine laugh, one that made Eddie instantly smile. “Like a ballerina, yeah,” you agreed. “I try.”

He felt lighter now. You weren’t angry or disgusted, you hadn’t freaked out and ran away screaming the weirdo of Hawkins High was stalking you. You were smiling, and playing into the conversation, laughing at his stupid joke.

“I’m sorry, again,” he apologized once more, just in case. “Didn’t mean to freak you out. You should continue, I interrupted you.”

“It’s okay, I swear. I was done anyway,” you said, bending down to reposition the legwarmers that were falling down your calves. And only then did Eddie notice what you were wearing.

And fuck him because you looked adorable.

In your tiny powder pink skirt and tights, matching pink leotard, exposing your shoulders and neck and the dainty silver chain resting on your chest, adorned with a little charm of a pair of ballet shoes. He’d never particularly cared for pink, but maybe he loved it now.

He must’ve looked like a fish, staring dumbfounded with his mouth halfway open. He just hoped he’d closed his mouth shut before you even noticed he was gaping at you.

“I should leave, ‘cause I’m sweaty,” you grimaced, looking down at yourself.

“Sure, sure,” he mumbled, moving to the side so he wouldn’t be in your way.

“But, Eddie…” you looked back at him with a shy smile, the sweetest thing he’d ever seen in his entire life. “Next time you want to watch, just tell me. I’ll put in a little extra effort.”

And with that, you left the gym, leaving him standing there, completely caught off guard as he tried to process what had just happened. The way you’d turned around to face him as you made your exit, the way you’d smiled at him; the way you’d left him there, with his cheeks heating up and a smirk on his lips. And you knew his name?

What had he just gotten himself into?

•

•

•

“Earth calling!”

Fingers snapped in front of your face, startling you out of your daydream. Chrissy was looking at you from her side of the table, the furrow on her brow almost hidden by her thick fringe.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, turning back your attention to your half-eaten meal—already cold—and trying to avoid her inquisitive eyes. “You were saying?”

“Are you okay?” she asked, genuine concern on her face. Chrissy–sweet as cherries. “What’s got you so distracted today?”

You took a deep breath.

Eddie. Fucking. Munson.

That’s what. But of course, you weren’t about to tell that to your best friend, head of the Hawkins High cheer team. Not if you didn’t want her to run off scared, claiming you’d been possessed by the actual devil.

Eddie was sitting not too far away from your table in the cafeteria. Clearly the life and soul of his group of friends, everyone sitting around him was dying laughing every time he opened his mouth, his eyes lighting up when they did. And you just couldn’t stop staring.

A few weeks ago, you wouldn’t have looked his way twice, wouldn’t have watched him long enough to notice the things you did now.

Sure, you’d seen him before, many times, through the school hallways, with his chains and leather jacket, and that smile plastered on his face, as if he knew something no one else did. And now you realized just how not scary he was. If you knew what to look for, if you looked past the facade, it wasn’t hard to see him at all.

Eddie in all of his glory. Unapologetically him.

Days after that encounter at the gym, you’d stumbled upon him in the parking lot after school one evening. More like, he’d stumbled upon you, saving the day.

You’d been frantically searching through your bag for your car keys, running late to your ballet class since your tutoring lessons with the juniors had run long. But they were nowhere to be found, and you were already counting your lucky stars that your instructor would be in a strangely good mood that day, because you were most likely not making it in time.

Eddie, who was waiting for his friends to show up for their D&D campaign, had seen your distressed form from his van and walked over to check on you. He offered to take you to the studio, assuring you it was no problem and he had plenty of time to spare.

You’d agreed.

The whole car ride, you couldn’t stop laughing, delightfully surprised by him and his sense of humor and how sweet and nice he was. You’d already gotten a taste of it back at the gym, but he seemed more comfortable now, with a heavy tune playing in the background through the speakers of his van, his big eyes fixed on the road as he listened to you talk.

He seemed interested about what you were telling him, eagerly asking questions and attentively listening to your answers. No one had ever cared so much about what you were passionate about before, not even the people you considered your closest friends, and it felt like a fist wound tight around your heart, squeezing painfully.

You wondered if this was what real friendship felt like. Tender, easy, uplifting, supportive.

Your friends’ influence was heavy on you, and under any other circumstances you wouldn't have given Eddie a second thought. But after he’d dropped you off and you’d bid your goodbyes, you couldn’t stop thinking about him and his smile and his witty quips and how easily he seemed to put you at ease.

Eddie, who so many people claimed was “scary” looking, with his tattoos and long hair and heavy metal. Eddie, who played some weird board game about fantasy creatures you hadn’t even heard of before and listened to all those bands your father deemed inappropriate and horrifying. Eddie, who did not seem to care about fitting in, who wasn’t afraid to stand out–who thought your dancing was beautiful.

“I’m okay,” you said now, trying to get out of Chrissy’s questioning. “Just…tests. And dancing. There’s a lot on my mind.”

“Of course.” She placed her hand on yours on the table. “If you need any help just let me know, okay? We can study together, if you want.”

You smiled at her appreciatively and nodded, relieved when she dropped the topic and moved onto another conversation with the rest of the group sitting around you. Your gaze inevitably diverted back to Eddie’s table, but he was gone, his seat empty even though his friends were still there.

It didn’t come as a surprise. The note you’d found in your locker that morning was very clear. Our spot after lunch. Unsigned, but in that familiar and messy scroll. You’d been looking forward to it all day.

Quickly, you made up some half-ass excuse that went mostly unnoticed, and got up from the table, practically sprinting through the hallways towards the woods behind the running track, to a spot where you knew business was made. A lot of the guys in the basketball team bought from Eddie there, you’d seen them sneaking away plenty of times, they just would never admit it, the bunch of hypocrites.

Eddie had asked you to meet him earlier than usual today. Supposedly, you were there to study, help him out with some of his classes, but it had been a few days since you’d touched a book, too caught up in talking about anything and everything to even bother.

And like every time you met him in that same exact spot, beneath the trees in that clearing that was now yours, your heart started beating faster, hard and loud enough that you could feel it pounding in your ribcage.

“I’m skipping physics for you, I hope you’re happy.”

Eddie was leaning against the wooden table, one leg casually propped up on the bench, all unruly dark curls shining under the March sun, denim vest over his leather jacket. He looked up at the sound of your voice, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“Skipping class? For me?” He placed his hand on his chest, his eyes wide. “Oh, I’m a terrible influence. You should drop me before I corrupt you.”

“Shut up, Munson,” you said, a smirk making its way onto your face, albeit your cheeks were heating up.

“No, seriously, are you okay? You sure you don’t have a bug that’s affecting your brain or something? Let me check-”

“Eddie! Stop it!” you laughed, catching his hand directed towards your forehead. “You’re making me seem like a loser.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the coolest person in this whole town.” You batted his hand away from your face when he tried to poke your cheek, but kept your hand in his, his fingers lacing with yours. “I’m serious. You do some weird twirling dance and wear pink tights and listen to fucking… I don’t know, Tchaikovsky? It’s weird. It’s cool as fuck.”

“Weird twirling dance? Jesus,” you scoffed.

He was looking at you fondly, with a smile on his face, the kind that made you jittery. His gaze felt as warm as his hand in yours as he played with your fingers, absentmindedly. And you just stood there, reveling in his touch and his words like a dumb school girl, when you should be in Mrs. Harris’ class, listening to some boring lecture on thermodynamics.

You had the inkling that Eddie always meant every word he ever said to you, and it was so foreign, to have someone be so honest and so…nice. When Eddie looked at you, he saw you, right through, and even though it was daunting to feel so vulnerable, you ate up every bit.

You couldn’t stand the tension between you, but you couldn’t break his gaze nor let go of his hand either. “So,” you exhaled. “What did you want me to meet you here for?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he frowned. “Did I need to have a reason?”

“I can’t just skip class without a good reason.”

“Okay, maybe you are a loser – OUCH!” He rubbed at his arm, where your fist had just collided with his bicep. “That hurt! You pack a punch.”

“Yeah, I know,” you grinned.

Eddie liked to tease you, and if any of his playful provocations came from anyone else but him, maybe they would have bothered you. But you understood his humor now—and his heart—and even if you sometimes couldn’t tell when he was being serious or messing with you, you took it gladly, because it meant he was comfortable enough with you, and you loved that.

That didn’t mean he didn’t deserve a light swat on the back of his neck when he poked fun at you every time you got a little serious. And every time, he got extra dramatic, like a little kid, as if you’d wounded him terribly.

The pout in his face was adorable, and you couldn’t help but lean in closer, and press a hesitant kiss on his right cheek.

Every bone in your body told you to linger there, see what would happen if you pulled away slowly, enough for your eyes to meet, inches away from his lips. But an irrational fear settled into your bones, one that was whispering in your ear that it was too soon, to not be stupid, to not fuck up. So you pulled away with the most confident smile you could muster, as if your closeness and the feeling of his warm skin against your lips hadn’t affected you in a way you hadn’t expected.

The look on Eddie’s face didn’t escape you, though. There was surprise there for a second, but then a triumphant, shit eating grin settled on his face. “Okay, I forgive you.” Then, a beat after, “You have to stop doing that, because it’s fucking adorable.”

“Doing what?” you asked confused. Not like you’d made a habit out of kissing his cheek, but maybe you were about to if he found you fucking adorable.

“That. That little smile, and the tilted head.”

You instantly repositioned your head straight, noticing how you were, in fact, doing exactly that. You hadn’t even noticed. “I’ll stop,” you nodded with a giddy grin.

“Please don’t,” he said, amused at you and giving your intertwined hands a squeeze.

“Okay? We should study,” you suggested, squeezing his hand back. You were done with the conversation. Best if you buried your nose in a book, just so he’d keep his mouth shut for the few minutes you could convince him to spend on school work instead of on riling you up. You could only handle so much at a time.

“Definitely,” he said, catching you distracted and finally managing to poke your cheek with his finger.

You swatted his hand away and let out an annoyed huff, sitting opposite him on the table, at a good arm’s length, with a poorly faked stern look. He opened up his book as you did the same, settling into a comfortable silence as a smile threatened to spill out.

You couldn’t keep letting him get away with the way he made your cheeks heat up. You just couldn’t.

•

•

•

The moment you saw Tyler Watts doing body shots off of his girlfriend’s belly button for everyone to see, you knew you shouldn’t have come to the stupid party. You’d already been doubting your decision before—mostly when half the cheer team gave you dirty looks as you walked in, hand in hand with Chrissy—but she’d been so insistent that you couldn’t say no to her adorable pout.

Any excuse was a good one to throw a party in Hawkins, and everyone had showed up in celebration of the beginning of spring break. The floor was sticky, the air thick with cigarette smoke, and it seemed like the whole of Hawkins High was there, the house crowded to a full, all jam-packed like a tin of sardines.

Chrissy, who’d been holding onto your arm just a while ago, was nowhere to be found, and without her there, you were starting to get that familiar feeling that you no longer belonged there. Not without her there, not after your big fallout with who you thought were your friends.

You hadn’t explicitly told anyone you were hanging out with Eddie, but some people had seen you together, and rumors had spread like fire around the school. When some girls from the cheer team you used to hang out with confronted you about it, as if you were doing something wrong, you mustered all your courage and tried to channel Eddie’s spirit, and told them to fuck off. Eddie was your friend, and if they weren’t okay with that, then they were never your friends at all.

He was sweet, and kind, and considerate, and he always made sure to check up on you. He always took every bad word aimed at him with a smile, and never allowed anything to drown his spirits, or at least, he didn’t let it show, just to not give anyone the satisfaction. Eddie was unapologetically him, and you weren’t aware of just how much you needed him until he came into your life.

After very little consideration–it was honestly embarrassing–you could admit it now. You loved it. The stupid leather jacket, and the rings, and the tattoos, and the long hair, and the guitar. Even the damned cigarette smoke that seemed to linger on his skin and now was so comforting to you. Eddie was so unlike everything you’d ever known, you were polar opposites in many aspects, and yet, you felt like he was meant for you.

Inevitably, you were thinking about him, and how much fun he was probably having doing whatever the fuck he was doing on a friday night. It didn’t matter what, you were sure you’d be having fun with him too. You always did.

The party was in full swing. People were way too drunk, dancing away to the poppy music blaring through the speakers, and whoever’s house this was, was already in shambles, even though it was barely 9pm. The night was going to be long, and all you wanted was to go home, curl up in bed, and listen to the mixtape Eddie had made for you.

Instead, you were stuck being miserable, sipping on stale cola, not comfortable enough to drink alcohol around anyone at the party. But maybe someone had spiked your drink because, was that Jeff? Jeff, as in Eddie’s friend? Since when was Jeff a party kind of guy? And was that Gareth next to him?

You frowned.

They were by the pool outside with a few other people. You could see them through the kitchen window, and you were sure it was them. Gareth was unmistakable, in his signature plaid vest.

You walked through the sea of bodies spread out all across the living room to get to the patio doors, bumping shoulders with various people. The rumble of laughing and yelling over the music got louder in your ears before it quieted down, as you slid the door closed behind you, the cool midnight air welcoming you and soothing your heated skin.

The moon was glowing crescent behind a veil of mist, barely illuminating the yard and making the dew on the grass sparkle like little diamonds. There weren’t many people outside, just a few strays chatting or smoking, and in the corner, Jeff and Gareth, propped up against the stone fence, laughing at whatever joke someone had made.

Just as you were making a beeline to Eddie’s friends, your gaze focused on them, you slammed hard against someone, crashing against a firm form. You let out a little yelp, and hands caught your shoulders, steadying you on your feet before you tripped and fell.

“There you go!”

You looked up to meet big brown eyes, staring you down from behind a curly fringe.

“Eddie?”

Eddie Munson—who very openly resented the party scene—was definitely the last person you expected to ever see at a Hawkins high school party.

You’d been thinking about him just a few minutes ago, and to see him there shocked you so greatly, that for a second you thought you were imagining him. But he was there, his warm hands on your shoulders as proof.  “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

He chuckled. “I’m gonna be honest,” he said, dropping his hands from your shoulders to place them in his pockets, and looked down at his shoes, as if debating with himself. Then, he looked back up at you. “I just came because I knew you’d be here.”

Oh.

You tried to hide the surprise on your face. Really, you tried, but there was no masking the smile that was threatening to spill out. Damn him. He was so cute.

“And you dragged your friends here too?” you asked, dumbly. Not like he’d ever think you were dumb, but… you felt dumb. What were you supposed to say to that?

I’m glad you came, then.

“It looks like they’re having fun, so,” he shrugged. He stuck his tongue out–a nervous habit–his gaze moving away from his friends and back to you. “I got it bad, don’t I?”

You let out a small chortle.

Eddie was showing up at parties he didn’t even like just to see you.

Eddie.

Sure, he had it bad, that much was obvious, but in your own honest opinion, you were much worse.

When had you ever felt like this before? Never in your life. Not with any of the crushes you’d had before, which now, compared to Eddie, seemed so silly and trivial. Had you even really liked them? Attraction seemed like nothing compared to what Eddie made you feel with his stupid witty remarks and flirty comments.

You were just waiting for your feelings to overflow, for one of you to go for it and jump in, the clock slowly ticking until one of you made the first move, dancing around each other like Odette and the prince in Swan Lake.

You knew people were watching your exchange, could feel their eyes boring into the nape of your neck, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. Eddie was smiling triumphantly, satisfied with himself now that he’d but confessed to you that he liked you, in his own cheeky way.

You were more than ready to lunge at him and kiss him dumb in the middle of some random kid’s backyard. You were. Luckily for you, he kept talking, “Are you having fun?”

“Honestly?” you grimaced. “Not really.” Now that you’re here…maybe.

He hummed, grabbing your half full glass from your hand to place it on top of the stone fence. “Wanna ditch?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

•

•

•

“Wow. A castle, for a princess.”

You twisted the key inside the lock with a roll of your eyes, popping the door open and stepping into your house as Eddie followed suit behind you, instinctively wiping the soles of his shoes on the doormat. It was dark, the street lights illuminating the framed pictures on the walls, but it was familiar enough that you didn’t bother turning the lights on as you guided Eddie through.

Your parents weren’t home for the weekend, trusting you to take care of yourself and be responsible—as you’d always been—but now you were doing exactly what they wouldn’t have guessed in a million years. Bringing a boy home.

And not just any boy. You couldn’t even imagine the look on your father’s face if he ever found out you’d brought the Munson kid home. It was weirdly amusing.

“You have a swimming pool?!” Eddie exclaimed as he climbed up the stairs behind you, his hand in yours.

“What swimming pool, you goof?” you laughed. You didn’t have a pool, and even if you did, he wouldn’t have been able to see it from the stairs, where there were no windows.

“And a pet tiger?! Rich people…”

“What are you talking about?” you looked back at him, to find that silly, playful smirk on his face. He just squeezed your hand and kept walking behind you, uncharacteristically careful to not bump into anything in the dark as you led him through the hallway to your bedroom.

“Aw! Of course your room is all pink.” Eddie stood by the doorway as you walked into your bedroom, leaning against the doorframe and looking around with his big curious eyes.

You knew he was probably itching to touch and inspect everything in sight, but he kept back and watched you as you turned the light of your bedside table on and took your jacket off, going about your business almost methodically.

You’d imagined him in your room before, just a late night fantasy you’d never talk about out loud, but this was different. He stuck out so sorely, in his Dio t-shirt and leather jacket amidst all the powder pink and flowery wallpaper, standing by your makeup vanity—but somehow, he didn’t look out of place. In your eyes, he fit in perfectly.

“Hey! Pink is the superior color,” you retorted.

“I like pink,” he shrugged. “Where are the Tchaikovsky tapes?”

He walked further into the room, the first pang of fear of overstepping gone. Eddie was always respectful of your personal space, a master at reading your energy around him, but as soon as you sat back on your bed, popping your shoes off to sit cross-legged, he understood you were welcoming him in. Now he was examining and sniffing every little bottle and container on your dresser, like a detective in some cheesy late night tv police drama.

“For the last time, Eddie,” you said exasperated. “I don’t listen to Tchaikovsky.”

“But you do! You hum it under your breath sometimes.”

You frowned.

You were guilty of going over choreographies in your head often, especially in the past month, Aurora’s variation in act 3 from The Sleeping Beauty replaying in your head over and over again in preparation for your next recital. You didn’t know you actually sang along to the music out loud, but apparently you did, because Eddie had noticed.

He noticed a lot more things about you than you realized.

“I was thinking,” he hummed, a cheeky smile on his face. “The only time I’ve seen you dance was that one time.”

“The one where you were creeping on me?”

“I wasn’t creeping! I was… admiring.”

“Sure, you weren’t,” you laughed. “If you wanna see me dancing, you’re gonna have to come to my recital.”

He groaned, “Can’t I get a private performance? Just to get me through.”

A private performance.

You grinned. It was so easy for him to make you jittery with just a couple of words. He just had that ability, to say exactly the thing that would make you tick at exactly the right time. But two could play that game, and you were starting to catch up.

An idea popped into your head. “Only if you dance with me.”

“Dance with you? I can’t dance for shit, sweets.”

“Come on! You don’t have to do much, just aid me in some steps.”

“I’ll look like a drunk duck, sweetheart,” he shook his head. “Look at me! I have two left feet.”

“Don’t be dramatic, you’ll do just fine. Come on, I’ll show you.”

You got up from your bed, dragging Eddie along with you in front of the full length mirror. You were barefoot, a long stretch from your pointé shoes, and wearing a too short skirt, no tights, but it would have to do.

“You’re gonna have to get a little closer,” you giggled as Eddie awkwardly stood behind you, his frame towering over you.

Reaching back, you grabbed both his hands on yours, and placed them where your waist met your hips. You could tell he was hesitant about touching you by the way he didn’t meet your eyes in the mirror, but he still did as he was told, scooting forward just a little more.

It surprised you, really, that he was always so willing and quick to make you embarrassed with his flirty comments, but was now battling with himself about getting a little too close; exactly when this was the perfect opportunity to drive you insane. And it surprised you even more just how eager you felt about having his hands on you.

“Eddie,” you whispered, your voice low in the dim, warm light of your bedroom, painting the walls a darker shade of pink.

“Yeah?”

“Closer.”

And he did get closer. To where there were no inches between you, his body practically flush to yours, his hands on your waist. You took a deep breath and straightened your stance, inevitably getting into a dancing mind frame even though you were just messing around. You were going to need it if you were to survive this.

You got on your tiptoes and lifted one leg, the carpet soft under your feet, not allowing you much movement or glide, but just enough to give Eddie a little demonstration. ”Just spin me around as I twirl. It’s easy.”

He tried his hand, shifting his hands on your waist and rotating your body as you spun slowly but easily with his help.

“See? Easy.”

Moving onto a different position, you came back to your center and stretched your leg out into an arabesque, as much as your skirt would allow you without making it too awkward, letting Eddie support your stance.

“Hold my hand,” you instructed, wriggling your stretched right arm so he’d know which one.

His hand brushed along the length of your arm, igniting goosebumps on its way, until he found your hand, holding it delicately in his. You lifted your arm up with his even further, letting him twirl you slowly in front of him; like a ballerina in one of those music boxes, just like he’d said that first time you met.

Eddie was silent, weirdly so, considering how he never seemed to shut up, always having something to say or point out. But he was just observing, focused on you, and the timbre of your voice as you guided him through the dance, careful about where he placed his hands, hesitant in his touches and not allowing them to linger for too long.

It was such a tender moment, letting Eddie have a first hand taste into your world, and it made you giddy and weirdly prideful, your stomach filling with butterflies. There was a slight smile on his face as he watched you, biting back a broader one that would show a little too much. You were smiling too, soft laughs emitting from both your mouths as you danced, slowly spinning in his hold.

He was nervous, that much you could tell. But you could also tell the slowly growing tension that was building between you, how it seemed to stretch on tighter the longer his hands remained on your waist. And you were dying for it to just snap.

And then he did something unexpected, something that basically turned you into a puddle, slowly melting onto the floor. He leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on your temple, as if he couldn’t help himself, and then you met his eyes in the mirror. They were soft, but darker than usual, and you couldn’t really tell if it was a trick of the light or something else.

What if… no no no no no. But what if…?

His hand was resting on your stomach, just over your belly button. You grabbed it in yours and guided it lower down your body, slowly inching down towards your hip, and even lower, where the end of your skirt met your upper thigh.

His breath was on your neck, his hair tickling your skin, and you understood what a dangerous game you were playing. How poorly it could go if you had somehow misunderstood the situation, misunderstood your connection; the tension you felt between you. But you just couldn’t stop.

Eddie was like a drug. All of him, absolutely intoxicating and so, so addicting. From the moment he’d spoken the first word to you, you’d been hooked, unable to think about anything else but him and his sunshiney smile that didn’t suit his looks but was somehow so perfectly him.

But right now you couldn’t think about much more than his fingers, slowly moving down your body, and the goosebumps arising all over your skin. They felt a little too good, a little too close to heaven. Thankfully, Eddie didn’t seem to mind, keeping his hand steady, his head buried in your neck.

The coldness of his rings on your inner thigh sent shivers down your spine. Your breath was caught in your throat, a lump that wouldn’t let you fill your lungs with the air your body needed but your mind refused, too busy in other more carnal needs to bother about your mortality. You felt like your legs were about to give up any minute now, the challenging years and years of dancing and endurance reduced to nothing as his fingers brushed the bare skin of your thigh.

Your fingers were tingling, your core vibrating. Your eyes fluttered shut. All of your senses were overwhelmed by his presence and his touch, his chest pressed against your back, his hair tickling your neck. It was all too much for you, who had barely even kissed anyone before, and was now tangled in the wonder that was Eddie Munson.

“Eddie,” you sighed.

Suddenly, he spun you around, making you face him, so quickly and catching you so unprepared it almost made you dizzy. You slammed against his chest, gasping in surprise as you met his eyes, his face much closer than you’d anticipated. Your hands held onto his biceps, the leather of his jacket soft under your fingers.

“Hi,” he grinned.

“Hi.”

The urge to giggle like a maniac was strong, but you reckoned it would ruin the mood, so you bit down on your lip instead. He was so close, your noses were almost brushing, and he was so damn cute.

“Eddie.”

“What?” he said, voice soft, both of you moving in whispers, too afraid any loud noise would break the spell.

You were melting into each other, with his hands planted on your waist, at the band of your skirt, pulling your body flush to his. Whilst they had been hesitant at first, now they were firm and decided, like they’d found a home there, like they fit perfectly. Just as you had thought the first time you held hands, and then it became your thing; to tangle your fingers with his, just because there was no other way to be around each other but to be holding hands, because it was as normal and regular and constant as breathing.

“Eddie,” you said again.

“What is it, princess?” he smiled at your insistence. Not that he minded hearing his name on your lips over and over again. “What do you want, doll?”

“Kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The kiss was tentative, a press of lips on lips, barely lasting a few seconds, scoping it out, treading through undiscovered ground. Shy, and inexperienced. But as soon as you pulled away, all it took was the beat of a heart of looking into those big brown eyes for you to lunge back in, as if his lips were the air you needed to breathe, to keep you alive.

Your hands were holding onto the lapels of his jacket, holding him against you, and you were suddenly drunk on him. Frankly, it was slightly awkward, and frantic, bordering on desperate, but it was perfect, because it was Eddie you were kissing. You’d longed for it, longer than you cared to admit, like a silly high school girl, and you couldn’t quite believe it was finally happening.

It didn’t take long of his mouth moving against yours, his ring clad fingers on your cheek, for you to realize what that feeling burrowed in your chest was.

Love. It was love.

You were in love with Eddie. Madly, to a point where it was embarrassing just how obsessed you were with all that was him. His big brown puppy eyes, and the boyish smile, and his goofy persona, the one that flowed easily when he was comfortable and at ease. Because he was good, so good, and for the few minutes you were in his arms, he was yours.

He’d dived head first into your world, just as he’d showed you his, with no fear and no judgment and all the interest and the intent in the world. How were you supposed to not love him?

A low grumble tumbled out of his throat as your hand tangled in his mane of curls, pulling slightly, if anything, to get him as impossibly close to you as you could. His thumb was digging into the side of your face, just above your jaw, and you just hoped it would leave an imprint, just so it assured you later that all of it had actually happened.

You couldn't help it, you smiled into the kiss, a giggle inevitably escaping your mouth, making Eddie pull away. He studied you, his hands on your face as you laughed.

“What?” he laughed with you. “That bad, huh?”

You smirked, deciding to tease back, “Are we talking about the kiss or the dancing?”

“I hope neither,” he shook his head, a fake aggravated look on his face. “You’re hurting my feelings.”

“I don’t know,” you wondered. “Can we try again, just to make sure?”

“Wow. You're starting to sound like me. Take it back.”

You chuckled and smacked your lips against his, not letting him finish his soon-to-be self-deprecating banter, swallowing his surprised yelp instead. “Yeah, this is terrible,” he hummed into your mouth as you darted your tongue across his bottom lip, his hold getting tighter, your arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“It’s really bad,” you mumbled back.

“No good.”

You played with the hair at the back of his neck as his lips moved eagerly with yours, making him sigh softly into the kiss as you walked backwards, until the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed.

He hunched over you as you sat back, pulling away from the kiss to smile like two fools.

“You're doing it again!” You looked at him with a frown. “The tilted head thing. You better stop.”

His fingers held your face, squeezing your cheeks into a pout. “That means you want me to do it all the time?”

“That’s exactly what it means, my little dancer.” He placed a kiss on your naked collarbone, then your cheek. “You’re beautiful.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him into you, making him fall onto the bed next to you. You laughed quietly, your nose brushing against his stubbly cheek as you tried to hide your embarrassment at his sweet words. “I’m gonna kiss you if you don’t shut up.”

Not that you minded, but you guessed that feeling was never going to go away as long as you were by Eddie’s side. He would never fail to make you feel that way. It’s just who he was.

“Have I told you that I love it when you threaten me?” he said as you pinned him down to the bed, your mouth already on his, his hand on your lower back, slurring his words between your kisses. “So romantic.”

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

your eddie ballet fic is so good oh my goodness<33 all the feels. can you do a hc of james p. with a reader that does ballet?? no worries if not, i understand if you're overwhelmed with requests right now! :)

okay, so I have this image in my head of him keeping you company every time you break a new pair of pointe shoes in. like sewing on the elastic and ribbons, breaking them in so they don’t give you as many blisters and stuff.

and because he knows what a boring task it is for you, like you are always moaning and groaning because uuurghh it's so boring, he eventually asks you to teach him how to do it so that you can do a shoe each and make it fly by that much faster.

[s-4pphics]

the ballerina reader amd tattooist ellie is scrumptious 😩 while i do want to see ellie test out reader's flexibility, i kind of need to see ballerina reader be the dominant one based on what she said last time 😳

hi baby :D we’re having a scheduled power outage today so i’m prob gonna spend the whole day writing the next outline for the new sotp part hehe!! but i didn’t wanna leave yall hanging so heres somthing quickk everybody clap for my mania and insomnia!!! woooo!

wc;cw: 750 oooweee, MDNI, reader turning ellie out someone stop her😳, choking, dirty talk, mult. orgasms, slight exhibitionism🤭

nooooooo because…… ballerina!oc is genuinely such a sweetheart and every1 that you ever came in contact w has immediately fallen in love w you. 

but no one would’ve ever expected the academy’s princess to have the intimidating, quiet tattooist with her head dangling off the side of her cozy, pink and white striped sheets with her pretty, green eyes(that’d been tinted red due to you both emptying the bud-filled baggie earlier), rolled all the way back and one of her legs being held down by your strong ones. *melts* 

you had already made the flushed, freckled girl cum on your face twice in a fucking row(even though she made an attempt to run after her first big one, you pulled her back down— manicured nails dug into her thighs—with a mean i’m not fuckin’ done, stop moving), tongue shoved as far as it could go into one of the prettiest fucking cunts you’ve ever had the pleasure of eating. 

so when you used all your strength to lay her nearly slumped body onto your plush mattress, hand around her throat as you moved down her still-trembling body—not before kissing both her nipples because you’re such a sweetie— and before you could suck her swollen clit back in your mouth, she grabbed your wrist tight with a shaky baby, baby i cant take it, fuck! 

“you okay? want me to stop?” you’d checked in sweetly, and she could’ve cum again from the concerned expression on your face when she picked her head up to meet your(just as red) eyes.

“no, ‘m so fuckin’ good, just sensitive,” she’d replied hazily before both sides of her mouth rose in a dazed grin, “you’re crazy, holy fuck.” 

you’d let out a cute giggle before releasing her throat and moving up to straddle her, bringing your face down to plant a gentle kiss to her lips. 

you pulled away, but she quickly followed your mouth with a rise of her head. 

you were quicker though, you little fox! you moved your head back so she would be forced to chase your mouth before you teasingly licked her bottom lip only to pull away swiftly after. 

and now here y’all were. her head hanging off the bed with your tight grip around her neck. you’re straddling her waist with your arm behind your back, middle and ring finger shoved deep inside her soft, slippery walls and punching that fucking spot unrelentingly. she could feel her juices slide down to her ass and onto your fresh linen. your thigh was pressing her leg up so she couldn’t wiggle away from your harsh fucking and holy fuck you were gonna make her scream— 

she couldn’t think as she gripped your wrist that was gripping her throat with her tatted hand, whining out a baby, fuck, can’t take it like that! before you harshly whispered out a yeah you can, be quiet. you were slutting her the fuck out out and she couldn’t stop you! 

“‘m gonna make noise, i cant—fuckfuckfuck,” the volume of her whines increased as she rode the fuck out of that edge and she swore her fucking brain started melting—

“yeah, baby? yeah? gonna give me a big one?” 

“yesyesyesyes— ‘s gonna be so—good, fuuuuck me!” 

you quickly released your grip on her neck and shoved your painted fingers in her mouth, which she sloppily sucked on with a delighted hum, and before she could even comprehend what was happening, she caught a glimpse of your small pile of your dead, copper pointe shoes in the corner of your room and her soul left her fucking body. 

she let out a scream that shook the fingers in her mouth as her pussy squeezed and squelched around your fingers as you silently prayed to god that your roommate took her sleeping medication because you couldn’t stop the noises from leaving her mouth even if you tried. 

“doing so good baby, want all of it, that’s it,” you huskily talked her through it and you could hardly move your fingers due to how hard she was gripping them with her cunt. 

she slowly came back down to earth and opened her eyes to meet your gentle, encouraging eyes and she was so close to slipping up and saying she was in love with you—

but you, being the fucking deviant you are, pulled your fingers out to rub her juices on your own clit with a small whine, biting your lip and her core squeezed so fucking hard and you were going to fucking kill her holy fuck—

marrymemarrymarryme— was the only thing plaguing your mind.

:)

[thisismeracing]

if moodboards are still open, lando x ballerina!gf? please and love your work 🫶🏽

yes! <3 thank youuuu, I'm happy you're enjoying my stuff, hope you like this one as well *virtual hug*

LANDO DATING A BALLERINA

Lando Norris x ballerina!reader

Requests are open 🪩 Read here

[laceswan]

Headcannons for Tenya Iida x new money!ballerina!reader

(As someone who comes from new money)

Meeting and Confession

⁃ They met at a nutcracker show. Tenya was there with his family, but he stayed behind to meet the dewdrop that caught his eye. They exchanged numbers that day, and became friends.

⁃ Fun fact, Tenya saved her in his phone as Dewdrop, and it ends up being her nickname.

⁃ Both of them have very busy schedules, so in-person meetings are infrequent.

⁃ The feelings became apparent when there was a villain attack across the street from her company building. She was in rehearsal, which paused to watch through the window. She saw his costume zipping around and helping people, and then he disappeared inside the building.

⁃ She didn’t see him again before the smoke started digging up her field of vision. The villains had presumably started a fire, and as a precaution in the case of it spreading, rehearsal was cancelled and firefighters were called.

⁃ Most of the dancers went home, assured that the heroes would take care of it, and the company wouldn’t be in any danger. And that was what happened.

⁃ But (Y/n) stayed behind. There was a group of civilians gathering behind the barracks to watch, most of them watching to see if their loved ones survived, and she joined them.

⁃ The sun had set, but the fire kept everything just as bright.

⁃ Eventually, the smoke began to clear a bit, and she saw a familiar costume make its way through the smog.

⁃ People cheered, asked for autographs, journalists asked questions and pointed their cameras, but (Y/n) stood behind, waiting for the action to die down.

⁃ Once it did, and Tenya was clearly fatigued, she called out “Ingenium?”

⁃ He turned around, with a sudden change in demeanor, back to the heroic persona he embraced for interviews. That is, until her saw her.

⁃ “(Y/n)… why are you here?”

⁃ “I dance across the street.”

⁃ “A-are you hurt? You should be seeing a doctor, or going home if it’s not bad-“

⁃ She placed her hands on his arms, needing to stretch them out rather far, and in all honesty, he probably couldn’t feel it through his armor.

⁃ “Tenya. I’m fine. I’m came here to see if you were alright. Are you hurt?”

⁃ “Only a little. I’ll patch myself up when I get home.”

⁃ She shook her head a little and pulled on his gloved hands, leading him away from the crime scene that was not being cleaned up.

⁃ “Do you need to go back to the agency? Where do you keep your costume when you don’t wear it?”

⁃ “The agency. Why? Where are you leading me?”

⁃ “My car. You said you’d patch yourself up. That’s not happening. I’ll drive us to the agency, and then I’ll patch you up. Patching yourself up all alone is just so sad.”

⁃ He was too tired to refuse.

⁃ The car ride was silent. They got the agency, he took off his costume, and in his office, she found his first aid kit and began to clean and bandage his wounds. They said nothing.

⁃ The whole time, both of them were immersed in deep thought. Coincidentally, drawing the same conclusions.

⁃ As she finished the final wound, (Y/n) finally broke the everlasting silence.

⁃ “Tenya, I’ve been thinking.”

⁃ He turned his head to look at her.

⁃ “Hmm?”

⁃ “I was so worried when you disappeared into the building and didn’t come out. I didn’t think I could worry that much about someone. I’m so scared or losing you… and I think I know why.”

⁃ His mind toyed with the idea that it was what he had come to realise as well.

⁃ “What is it?”

⁃ “Before I tell you, promise you won’t run away?”

⁃ “Dewdrop, just tell me.”

⁃ She dropped her head, leaning into his shoulder a bit.

⁃ “I think I like you. A lot. And not just as a friend. If you don’t, we can still be friends, that ok. I-If you’re not ok with that, I guess-“

⁃ Now it was his turn to place his hands on either side of her, clutching her arms. She bolted upright to look at him.

⁃ “(Y/n). I’m not going anywhere. And I think I like you too.”

⁃ Her eyes widened, and she began to smile, which he soon followed. Soon it turned into cry-laughing, as (Y/n) returned to leaning into his shoulder.

⁃ “I was scared too. When I saw you there, there were so many questions, so many scenarios ran through my head and I… (Y/n) I want to keep you safe.”

⁃ Her laughing became more like crying, wetting the fabric on his shoulder.

⁃ “Dewdrop, what’s going on?”

⁃ “Nothing, is just been an emotionally taxing day. I’m tired.”

⁃ His hand reached up to remove the bobby pins and hairnet, and then brush through her hair with his fingers.

⁃ “It’s ok, you can relax. Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

⁃ She lifted her head to look him in the eyes.

⁃ “You should too. You’ve had a hard day, you need to sleep.”

⁃ With no words, he stood up and walked over to the couch by the window of his office, pulling her along with him. He laid down and pulled her to lie on top of him. They fell asleep quickly, finally resting.

⁃ (Y/n) woke up that morning to the sound of typing. The light of day was still a pale blue, and she was alone on the couch, missing the warmth she fell asleep next to.

⁃ The office was neat, everything was organised and looked exactly in its place except for some bobby pins, a hairnet, and a hair tie which were placed at the corner of her desk.

⁃ She could see his back, wearing the same shirt as the night before, typing at his computer, presumably paperwork or answering emails.

⁃ “Tenya,”

⁃ Her voice was quiet, but he heard it loud and clear. He turned around in his chair.

⁃ “You’re awake.”

⁃ She nodded with a little smile.

⁃ “I don’t want you to feel unwelcome, but you should probably go home. That way you can change and all that before you need to go back to rehearsal.”

⁃ She stood up, gathering her things and making her way to the door. He walked her to her car, and like a gentleman, opened every door for her on the way. Before she got into her car, he gently tugged on her hand.

⁃ “(Y/n), I meant what I said last night. I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime.”

⁃ “That sounds wonderful.”

⁃ She left him with a kiss on the cheek and a bright smile.

As a Boyfriend

⁃ Tenya was a perfect boyfriend, mainly because he tried so hard to be.

⁃ He always made an effort to be there for her, support her career, plan regular dates that never became mundane.

⁃ But there was one thing that was hard for him.

⁃ He was naturally a bit stiff, it was hard for him to relax unless he truly didn’t have the energy to maintain his usual rigidity.

⁃ And through that, he rarely confided in her. Almost never did he look to her for comfort, as he always wanted to be the one there for her, the one keeping her safe.

⁃ She did eventually confront him about it, and it wasn’t an immediate change, but he began working on it.

⁃ Cuddles with him were incredible. His body runs warm, and he’s got a rather large frame, meaning that whenever they cuddled, (Y/n) would end up nestled into him. Even if he understood cognitively that she could handle herself, it made him so happy to be holding her, keeping her safe.

⁃ In terms of gifts, they would run on the expensive side. He runs a hero agency, he’s wealthy, as is his family.

⁃ Whenever (Y/n) mentioned something that interested her, regardless of price, he’s find a way to get it. Within reason of course, but that reason included designer items.

⁃ This was a shock to her, it made her feel high maintenance and vain. And she told him that, to which he assured that it was his choice, not something he felt obligated to do.

⁃ One time, he paid for a new pair of pointe shoes, custom dyed so that she wouldn’t have to lose half a bottle of foundation to make it match her skin tone. That was probably the sweetest gift her got her.

Meeting the family

⁃ Tenya’s family is rich, and it’s been like that for a long time. There are traditions, some of which have been left in the past, and others that are maintained, whether they be explicitly stated or not.

⁃ For example, his parents don’t super care who he ends up with, so long as they aren’t a gold digger, and have a moderately successful life.

⁃ (Y/n) made jokes about coming from money, but her upbringing never would have prepared her for the family she met.

⁃ They didn’t have an estate or anything like that, but it was certainly a mansion.

⁃ His family was nice, but there was an undercurrent of caution throughout the dinner.

⁃ When they were alone, (Y/n) asked what was going on.

⁃ “Almost everyone in this family has, at one point or another, been the object of false affection because someone wanted the money we have.”

⁃ That had never even occurred to her. No one had ever warned her about that, she’d never had experience with that, largely because she didn’t flaunt her wealth much. She wore nice clothes and carried herself well, but never did she think that someone was interested in her because of the life she had.

⁃ But it certainly made sense. After that conversation, (Y/n) tried even harder to show that her intentions were true, and that she really loved Tenya.

⁃ The family legacy was another thing she found a bit jarring when she got closer to the family. Family was a big part of his life, taking on the mantle of Ingenium mattered perhaps more than anything else to him.

⁃ Even though they didn’t say it outright or mean to, she could tell the pressure came from his parents.

⁃ When he was having a bad day, there were a bunch of little phrases she would say in the midst of comforting him.

⁃ The one that always made him melt and love her more than ever was:

⁃ “I feel so safe with you, Ingenium or not.”

[barbiedragon]

~Eddie Munson x Ballerina!Reader~

Coming soon