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it-happened-one-fic · 7 months ago

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Dancing With Visions - Unwilling to be Parted - Argentine Tango - Zhongli

Author Notes: I was really quite delighted when I spun the wheel of fortune I use to decide who dances what style and Zhongli got the Argentine tango. I must confess that I have always personally loved to watch performances of Argentine tangos, so that possibly shows up a bit in this fic. The performance in this fic was heavily inspired by Maksim Chmerkovskiy and Meryl Davis’s Argentine tango to “Montserrat” by Orquesta Del Plata on Season 18, week 10 of “Dancing With the Stars.” I also listed to "Montserrat" while writing and editing this fic. Just like the rest of this series, reader is female. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more of this series, the fics can be found here: Dancing with Visions Masterlist.

Type: Female reader/ dance/ fluff/ romance implied

Word Count: 1905

Zhongli was respected by everyone and, in the eyes of the populace at large, seemed to know everything there was to know about anything. And perhaps that was why he was asked by an orchestra to perform an Argentine tango while they played, as a part of the overall performance.

After all, it was a song specifically written to be danced to, so they did not want to lose that aspect of the music. Though admittedly, it wasn’t exactly what I had initially expected when I’d heard it was going to be music written for a tango.

But then, it wasn’t music for a ballroom tango, it was music for an Argentine tango, and there was, evidently enough, a distinct difference between the two dances.

The Argentine tango was the more intimate, melancholic sister to the dance known as the ballroom tango. Or at least that was how Zhongli had described it to me when he’d asked me to be his partner for his performance. A request that I had hesitantly accepted only after much reassurance from my current partner.

I couldn’t deny that Zhongli’s description of the dance was accurate, though. While the ballroom tango and the Argentine tango held much in common, there were very distinct differences.

It honestly felt like there was more connection between the two dancers for the Argentine tango, which was more moody than aggressive, as the ballroom variant so often was.

I glanced over at where Zhongli sat, ever patient in the chair at the table on the opposite from where I stood.

In many ways, I’d been surprised to learn that the orchestra had set up such a performance area for us. But, as both they and Zhongli had asserted, Argentine tango music was music made for dance. It was only natural that the dance took centerplace as the orchestra performed their moody, careful sounding piece.

The music started and I stepped towards Zhongli, stepping up into the empty chair beside me and then onto the table between us. Adjusting my skirt as he looked towards me, his head turning in perfect time with the plucked strings of the music.

We’d practiced this dance numerous times, but his gaze never failed to startle me. I didn’t know what it was about his amber-colored eyes with slightly inhuman pupils that gave me the slightest of pauses, but it never seemed to fail. I was just lucky that my hesitation matched with the music.

I straightened, pushing myself up and off the chair and pivoting on the foot that rested on the table as I twisted, letting myself fall easily into Zhongli’s arms where he sat.

I looked up at him calmly as I stretched my arms back and over my head in the most languid manner possible. Slowly cartwheeling off his lap as he watched with quiet interest. Holding my hand as I stood just as he turned to look back out at the crowd.

Still seated, he twirled me across the floor until I stopped in front of him, his hands tracing their way up the side of my legs.

I inhaled slightly at the motion but let my hands rest over gloved ones, taking a gentle hold of them before pulling them off me and tossing them into the air before I stepped forward and turned. Leading with my head as I faced him and he stood.

I lifted my arms, easily sliding into our dancing hold as he almost immediately began to walk me backwards and across our stage.

Our steps were light, and almost stealthy as he pushed me backwards, pausing only to let me lean back to the lilting of the violins before he turned with me. His posture ever upright and strong as he twisted, placing me at his side and stepping lightly in place with me as we faced each other.

As if we weren’t having to concentrate on our intricate footwork at all and instead one another’s eyes were far more important.

And though I couldn’t speak for him, that certainly was true for me. Zhongli’s eyes were eternally interesting and beautiful.

His gaze was still one of pointed interest that seemed to make it impossible to look away from him.

I forced myself to break our eye contact though, as I turned the side, only to get swung lightly through the air as if I weighed nothing. Landing in a crouched position with one leg extended and my one arm still stretched out so my hand could stay in his.

Almost like it was locked in place, either by his grip or my unwillingness to let go. That was up to our viewers to decide.

The room was perfectly silent save for the music around us as he stepped lightly around behind me and I twisted on my toes. Pulling my legs under me as I looked up at him and he spun.

My hand left his only for a fraction of a second before he was taking it once more in his firm, but surprisingly gentle grasp.

He tugged lightly and I launched into the air, spinning elegantly so that my back was to his chest as he caught me against him. Wrapping an arm around me and holding me there as my legs curled backwards and split to lock around him as he stepped backwards.

But that was the nature of both this dance and Zhongli himself. Each motion flowed into the next effortlessly. As if each step were a natural progression.

This was a dance that told a story. A romance filled with sophisticated maturity and a sort of nostalgia that could only come with time.

I reached back, my hand brushing against Zhongli’s temple before he swung me forward, my legs kicking up into the air and flaring out my skirt before I touched down.

Zhongli immediately stepped back and away from me, placing a potent distance between as I turned to look back towards him. Almost as if I were drawn to him while he placed careful distance between us.

But his eyes never left me.

Though separate, we stepped forward together, our arms reaching towards each other in a sweeping, graceful motion.

My hand found his as our other arms wrapped around each other in a loose embrace. Close, but not close. Separate, but never far.

He shifted me so that I was in front of him once more, our gazes holding one another as our steps lagged slightly with the tempo of the music before he began pushing me backwards and across the stage once more.

Our steps turned fast as we twisted from side to side. Almost like we didn’t have time to waste, but also couldn’t bear to be rushed in this intricate dance that spoke of deep emotions.

We reached the edge of the stage, Zhongli stopping me before twirling me lightly so that we could shift back the other direction. Me still retreating as he pushed and guided me ever backwards.

Trusting me to stop with him just as I relied on him to guide me to halt before it was too late and the edge of the stage was passed.

This time we pivoted, shifting so that we were both technically facing the same direction with our heads turned to look at one another rather than in the direction we moved.

We released on one side, me spinning out as his arm stretched, teasing at letting me go but apparently not quite able to before he pulled me back towards him.

Twirling me in as I lifted my leg for him to catch at the last second, before he lifted me into the air and spinning effortlessly with me.

He paused though, facing the crowd and tossing me into the air lightly. And I spun lightly before landing safely in his arms once more.

He leaned with me, dipping me towards the ground as I extended my arm and looked away from him even as one of my arms remained wrapped around his shoulders.

He swung me down easily, his arm remaining wrapped around me as my feet touched down and I spun to look at him. Finally letting go of him as one hand pressed to my chest. Holding him at a slight distance as I looked up at him once more.

He met my gaze, his stare somehow unshakeable as he reached out with one hand. A silent request that I accepted with my hand slipping carefully into his.

We moved at the same time, him stepping towards me just as my other hand reached towards him, and the distance between us was closed once more.

I swallowed as his hand slipped from behind his back and wrapped around my shoulders as he spun me dramatically to the side. My one leg extended behind me as I looked away from him yet again.

He pulled me back up into an upright position swiftly and we shifted to the side, our footwork speeding up once more as he spun me once more, and I paused. Kicking up one leg before he spun me out. Letting go of me with one hand that I tugged back and pressed to my chest as we looked towards each other for a fraction of a second. Me leaned back and relying on his support while he gazed at me, supporting me with one arm but also holding me at a careful distance.

He shifted, holding out his free arm as he pulled me towards him and I spun. Launching into the air and landing safely in his embrace. Our sides pressed together with my legs curled under me and his arm wrapped steadfastly around me as our hands remained entwined.

He spun with me that way, my position shifting subtly as we rotated. My hand released his so that I could reach up and cup his face as I curled towards him. One of my legs shifting so it curled around him instead of just under me.

I was no longer pressed merely to his side, but holding onto him in a sort of loose embrace as his other hand cupped my shoulder.

His gaze flickered over to mine and I swallowed, forcing myself to hold eye contact with him as he paused for a moment and I uncurled my legs. Straightening them out so that the toes of my shoes barely touched the ground as he walked backwards. Inclining his head towards mine as my hand slid down the side of his face to rest against his neck.

We were hardly even an inch apart when he came to a stop. Letting me step closer to him before letting go, almost reluctantly and standing off to the side of the stage as he turned and sat. This time in the chair that was on the side of the table closest to me.

Applause erupted around us and I exhaled a breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. I looked towards Zhongli quietly, half-stunned by the noise around us as he met my gaze and smiled softly.

His stare was no longer one of intensity now, but I still found my eyes lingering on his before I at last looked away. Smiling awkwardly at the audience as Zhongli stood and joined me.

His hand finding mine as our fingers entwined themselves together once more. Seemingly unwilling to be parted.

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it-happened-one-fic · 2 years ago

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Argentine Tango - Gentle Oblivion - Strictly NRC Dancing

Author's Notes: I watched so many Argentine tango videos for this fic. With that said, though, this fic's performance was heavily inspired by Lauren and Pasha’s Argentine Tango to “Oblivion” on So You Think You Can Dance. I also made use of my mom's spoof theory that Crewel is Deuce’s dad. Finally, I listened to “Oblivion” by Astor Piazzolla, which is the same song that the two dancers danced to on So You Think You Can Dance. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing Master-List.

Type: Dance AU/ female reader/ fluff/ can be taken as romantic or platonic

Word Count 1844

The Argentine tango was one of the more intense and sensual dances to be taught during these classes.

I’d already danced the ballroom tango with Leona and it was both intense and incredibly passionate. The same could be said for the Argentine variety of the tango, but there was an altogether different feeling to this dance.

The Argentine tango seemed moodier than the more rule-oriented ballroom tango. Crewel had described it as a melancholic but intense dance during our lessons. And that was a description that I’d found I could agree with.

The majority of the dance involved the partners remaining pressed together and, unlike the ballroom tango, the Argentine tango allowed for lifts. It was still sultry but there was, in some ways, less aggression and more intimacy to this particular type of tango.

And that was why the fact that I was dancing with Deuce was concerning. Because while I adored the boy, sultry was not how I would describe my first year partner. And Deuce understood my concerns perfectly. But he’d also explained why he wanted to take the Argentine tango as his chosen dance class.

Apparently, it was his mom’s favorite dance.

Deuce didn’t know who his father was, but Miss Spade apparently recalled dancing it with him when she was younger. Ever since then, the dance had held a special place in her heart and Deuce, ever wanting to make his mom proud, was determined to not only learn this dance, but to execute it perfectly.

He even went so far as to even get extra lessons from Crewel and to study it on his own. If nothing else, Deuce had put far more time into his practice than anyone else in this class.

And his practice paid off. When it came time for choreography practice Crewel had tilted his head, smiling slightly as he spoke, “I normally wouldn’t recommend this, since it requires extreme preciseness, but if you two can do it will give you far more points than a normal Argentine tango.”

He paused and I looked towards Deuce who, after a brief moment, nodded with that oh-so-common gleam of determination in his eyes that was usually received for classwork rather than something like dancing

Crewel had given Deuce a pointed look before smiling again and gesturing for the two of us to enter hold. “I used to dance this sort of Argentine tango with a young woman some time ago…”

He’d trailed off, something flickering in his silvery eyes before he once again turned his attention back to us, “You two are going to do a slower, more melancholy Argentine tango. The lifts will be held for a longer period of time and are thus more difficult, but you are a strong boy.”

He’d instructed us slightly further, watching as we practiced and offering small tips, “Instead of putting her down immediately hold her there for just a bit. It will tie you better to the music since the song lags a bit there.”

We’d incorporated every piece of advice and soon it was time for the class’s performances to begin. Crewel had given us one final nod, “The rest is up to you pups. Give it your best.”

We were the final performance of the class, but with the solemn, slower Argentine tango we were going to be doing, we would stand out from the crowd.

While the other dances had been intense and rather heated, with incredibly fast footwork or holds that only lasted for a few brief seconds, ours was going to be different.

We would have lengthy holds and would remain tied to our more somber music. There was a sadness and intense longing to our dance’s choreography and, just as Crewel had said, we had to be incredibly precise.

Since each step was slower, each hold and lift would be longer. Almost every position and angle would be easier to analyze for the judges which meant everything had to be just perfect.

I met Deuce’s gaze, noting his nervousness as we waited for the music to start and the lights to dim, “Hey, are you going to be alright?”

Bright, blue-green eyes met mine and he nodded, that determined gleam in his eyes bringing a fond smile to my face. At the very least I knew he was going to give this his best.

“Cater agreed to film us for my mom and I want to make her proud so….. Yeah, I’m going to be fine and give the judges the best tango they’ve seen today. I’ve just got to get going and not think too much.”

I laughed quietly at his nervous determination but nodded as I squeezed his hand reassuringly, “Alright then, let’s give it our best Deuce.”

He nodded, carefully squeezing my hand in return but staying silent as he inhaled deeply. His nerves were at odds with the fact that I was surprisingly relaxed even as I leaned against him to enter our starting pose for the dance.

The melancholy tune was only just beginning to filter into the room, signaling the start of our performance as I realized a very simple truth. I trusted Deuce implicity.

The lights all went off , save for one which spotlighted us, and we slowly began to move.

We both already knew that every motion had to be elegant and graceful while also being filled with a sort of heartbroken longing. Instead of letting the music guide us, we had to embody the beauty and ineffable sorrow portrayed by the tune.

So we did. Moving across the floor with a trained grace that, had I not already practiced with the young man, would’ve startled me.

I could hardly imagine the amount of time Deuce must have put into his practice. I’d feared for his ability to pass this course, what with the difficulty of the dance and the incredibly intimate hold, but I should've known better.

Even if Deuce wasn’t the fastest to pick up on lessons, he was more determined than most and he’d surprised me before.

It was strange to realize how much faith I placed in Deuce, but then I supposed that it also made sense. I’d gone through overblots and all sorts of disasters with him, Ace, and Grim. By now trust was natural, even when he was holding me aloft in an incredibly difficult hold before setting me back down with an impressive level of gentleness.

But that was something I knew that Crewel had really drilled into his head. The importance of handling his partner with exceeding amounts of care and tenderness. And his carefulness showed in our performance, making it an oddly reverent tango.

And that suited Deuce in a strange sort of way. Because Deuce, despite the way he argued with Ace and his less than favorable background, was uniquely gentle. It was always him that was asking if I was alright if anything went wrong and stepping in if I felt even the slightest bit of discomfort towards a situation.

To be gentle was in his nature, but it was also in his nature to have a certain intensity to him that lent itself well to the tango. In reality, that intensity came from how determined he was to succeed and how hard he’d been pushing himself throughout this class. But I knew that for anyone watching, it would like a passion that befit the dance we were performing.

My eyes stayed locked with his much of the time that we spent dancing, only looking away when I was spun to put my back to him. Even as he lifted me with ease by merely my arms to spin as with me still upright and my legs curved carefully to enhance our spiraling motions our eyes stayed locked. Him looking up at me with an expression that spoke of deep understanding and me looking down at him from where he held me up and over his head.

It would have been easy, in many ways, to speak during our performance, but when it came right down there were no words. There was nothing to say to one another as we spun and stepped elegantly around the floor. Only separating for the briefest of moments as I feigned walking away only to be pulled back against him as if he couldn’t bear for the two of us to be apart.

It was a strange experience, to dance in such a fashion with Deuce of all people. Strange enough that I completely lost track of time as I concentrated on our meticulous movements.

It was almost a surprise when I realized that we were nearing the end of our performance as he carefully sat me down from the final lift where I’d been hanging limply high above his head. Supported by one of his hands being placed flat on my back while his other had been wrapped around my calf.

As the song ended with trembling notes from the strings, he pulled me across the floor and I leaned both towards and against him with my arms wrapped around his neck and my hands pressed to the back of his head. There were mere inches between us and yet he swung me over across and in front of him before I draped myself backwards into a languid dip where I hung in his arms.

The ease with which he had moved me spoke of incredible strength.

Strength that he’d exerted careful control and restraint over throughout our performance. Strength that made me feel a sort of poignant vulnerability as I hung almost limply from his embrace.

The song trailed off and the room fell both dark and silent. For a brief moment it seemed that there was little else in the world but us. It was a feeling of gentle oblivion. And then the student body erupted in cheers.

Deuce lifted his head from its mournful position on my chest with a wide smile as he pulled me back upright with an ease that had me yet again questioning if I was sure his signature spell really was Bet the Limit and not some sort of super strength endowment.

He received a passing score. Full marks for the most touching and heartbreaking Argentine tango they’d ever seen. Crewel himself had delivered the score, wearing a proud smile not unlike that of a father’s as he’d spoken.

But the real payoff came weeks later when Deuce was called by his mother who’d received the video. She was beyond overjoyed and had apparently told the rather flustered first year that it reminded her of how she’d danced with his mysterious father.

Ace was, of course, beyond insulted that while he had flubbed numerous classes and only just passed, Deuce had passed his first class with supposed ease.

It seemed that only me, Crewel, and Miss Spade knew exactly how much effort the young man had put in. And I could not have been more proud or amazed at the talent and determination Deuce had shown.

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