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meowsuguru · 8 months ago

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eyes on me

Dancer!Reader x Bartender!Geto

౨ৎ cont: suguru geto x fem! reader, unprotected, first time squirt, oral f!receiving, confessions.

౨ৎ word count: 4.5k

౨ৎ a/n: my life blood ty to whoever reads < 3

It’s been an awful night. Smoke clings to your skin, hair, teeth, and tongue as you come back into the club from the backdoor. Just a quick break, allowing nicotine to ease the tension in your brain. The head rush gives you just a moment’s respite, but it’s quickly overtaken the moment you step back into the club. The neon lights that adorn the walls flicker. It only serves to emphasize your mood, and it’s the most sour of moods. All thanks to the countless men who have touched despite the “no touching” rule and the incessant requests.

“Let’s meet after you get off work.”

“If I give you $1000 can we fuck?”

“I’ll slide a little bit more your way if you take care of this problem.”

It’s gross. More than that, it makes you feel dirty.

It’s the same every night. Same sleazy men, with the same revolting dispositions. You’re just here to dance, something you love doing, to make a little money for college. It’s simple. It should be easy. You’re great at it.

But, as you have the bouncer throw out another handsy client, it doesn’t feel as easy as it once did.

You hate it. It burns in your chest. You’ve been dancing here for almost eight months, and it’s starting to wear on you. Your head is spinning, tunnel-visioned on getting out. Gotta get out. Gotta get-

“Somethin’ wrong?” Calls the bartender, perceptive as you shake your head, snapping out of the daze you were in.

“Nothin’, just the usual. It’s been a lot of scum these past few weeks,” you sigh, relieved to be talking to a friend.

“You seem pretty frazzled. Need some water?” He offers as he wipes down the bar.

It’s 10 minutes to closing time and the only clients left are the filthy stragglers who frequent the club every night. The bouncers make their rounds, cleaning house as they urge the clients to leave.

“You don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here,” you hear one of them say.

You nod, sitting down across the bar. A tall glass is slid to you, ice cold with condensation already frosting the outside. You take big gulps, your anxiety from the night calming slightly the longer the liquid slides down your throat.

Suguru Geto never offers you drinks on the clock. He knows to take care of his girls. But, with the way you’re feeling, a real drink sounds better than nice.

“Suguru,” you say, and he turns his head to meet your gaze.

“I need a drink.”

He looks at you pointedly and sighs.

“You’re still on, princess. You know I can't serve you.”

“I’m off in 10. Let me have it just this once. I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t serious.”

Suguru is a principled man. He believes in what he believes, and it’s nearly impossible to sway him. So when he says “no alcohol,” he means it. You groan, finishing your water.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks after a beat of comfortable silence, taking your empty glass and setting it to the side.

“Not really,” you admit, laying your head on your arms. “Seven minutes. Then I’ll take my drink.”

Suguru frowns, but eventually relents, nodding. You watch as he cleans the leftover glasses from the night, sleeves rolled up to the elbows, signature one lock falling in his left eye. Suguru is good-looking, you think, but you’d never sleep with a coworker. Your job is already dramatic enough, no need to add fuel to the fire. Nevertheless, you quietly admire him as you wait for the time to pass.

“Five minutes gives me enough time for a dance,” you say, “Need to end this night on a good note.”

Suguru hums, eyes never leaving the glass he’s drying.

“Watch me?”

When you ask this, you don’t know why. Suguru is nice to you, sweet. He cares about all the girls at the club. Perhaps you want to share your love with your friend. You really do love dancing, you think, as you walk up the steps of the stage.

The DJ spots you and puts a song on, something unhurried, languid, smooth like silk. You bring yourself up around the pole, two arms locked on tight as you swing your legs up. Your legs twist in a familiar way as you spin, slowly, letting your body fall backward as you grab the metal with your hands. You hang upside down now, legs crossed above your head. The way you move is easy— intentional— like this is something you were made for. You kick off, one leg at a time, arms holding still against the metal as you spin, slowly, fluidly like water. A glance at the bar tells you Suguru is watching just as you’d asked. Eyes closing, you continue to dance.

Your song ends and you walk back down the stairs, eyes gazing at your feet.

As you walk up to Suguru, you notice he’s returned to cleaning up the bar. You tap your nails on the bar, quirking an eyebrow up at him to get his attention. He looks up, with that damned crooked grin.

“You watched me.”

“Beautiful as ever.”

You give him a soft smile, but it’s quickly dropped as your lips are pulled into a tight line. He notices this and sighs.

“Fine,” he starts, “what’ll you take?”

You hum, pleased. He rolls his eyes.

“Vodka soda, pretty please.”

Suguru makes the drink easily, setting it in front of you with a cocktail napkin underneath. You bring the glass to your lips, relishing in the feeling of the alcohol hitting your tongue. You don’t stop: tipping your head back, letting the drink fill your mouth and slide down your throat. A bit spills out of the corner of your lips and you stop, the heel of your hand tenderly wiping up the stream. The way your lipstick smudges is not lost in Suguru’s gaze, as his eyes flick between your lips and your hand.

“Easy, princess,” he warns, handing you a fresh napkin. You take it graciously and dab down your chin and chest where the drink spilled.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you answer curtly.

“I think you do.”

You regard him for a moment, a nasty side eye as he looks at you with that same damned smile. His eyes are so soft, so inviting. You consider it, as he stands there, letting you drink instead of closing up. The way he calls you princess, only you, the way he is always always there to lend you a shoulder. It’s just so easy for Suguru to break down your walls.

“I’m tired, Suguru.”

You hang your head, drawing circles on the bar counter.

“Tired?” He asks, giving you an opportunity to explain.

“With- with everything. I can’t just sit here and be demeaned all night every night. It’s exhausting,” you start, pushing your drink away. He grabs it and puts it off to the side. You don’t need the liquid courage for this now, you’re in the safe company of a friend.

The club has been emptied by now, most of the lights turned off as the dim bulb of the bar hangs above you. Your breath shakes, and you wrap your arms around yourself.

“I know,” Suguru’s eyes soften, “I know.”

“I love to dance, and I need the money– the money isn’t even that good, it just-” you trail off, unsure of how to voice your anxieties.

“I can’t keep doing this.”

“Then quit,” he says simply.

“It’s not that easy, Suguru-”

“I know. Sorry, bad advice,” he supplies.

You say it’s okay, that he’s not your therapist or your life coach or anything of the sort. He shakes his head and flicks the light switch, leaving you two in the dark of the closed club.

“Want to go for a drive?” He asks, your eyes adjusting to the dark finally as you make out his form.

“Yeah.”

–

You find yourself, dressed back in your daytime clothes, in the passenger seat of Suguru’s Jeep. Black interior, black exterior. This guy really has a vibe, you think. You throw your duffel in the back seat when you sit down, and Suguru turns the key, engine roaring to life. You don’t question where you’re going; you don't care where you're going. You roll the window down, feeling the wind hit your face. You close your eyes, remembering easier times. Suguru glances at you, and rolls his own window down.

He drives, out of the city, and neither of you speak. The dying night’s air kisses your cheeks and ruffles your hair, sparring a bit of hope in your chest. It blooms, like love, and you watch the moon be chased down into the day. You hope and hope, tossing your frustrations away as each leak of light peeks higher in the skyline behind you.

“I don’t want to be tired anymore,” you say into the wind. If Suguru hears you, you don’t know.

He just drives, out and up.

–

You arrive at a plateau, abandoned in the dawn. The clouds are down far below your feet, orange skies breaking through the fog. You hop out of the car, sneakers hitting the gravel with a crunch. It makes the breath leave your lungs, the view. You turn, facing Suguru, your hair blowing around your face. He pauses as he comes around the front of the car, looking at you. His eyes are soft, as they always are. You tear your gaze away and look down at the city, far beyond the clouds, as the sun comes up over the horizon.

“I like to come here sometimes, when I’ve got too much on my mind,” he says, breaking the silence.

“I can see why.”

Suguru comes to your side, shoving his hands deep in his pockets.

There is a chill in the air and you wrap your arms around yourself, tucking your nose into the collar of your hoodie.The two of you fall into another comfortable silence, the air stilling around you two. You lean up against the hood of the car, feeling the heat radiate off of it, warming your bones.

Suguru inhales, and exhales. He inhales again. In a rare display of vulnerability, he speaks.

“You can’t let them get to you,” he starts; your name leaves his lips in a whisper. “They don’t mean anything, all those guys. You can’t let them break you.”

You look at him, and he looks ahead.

“It’s getting too hard to ignore,” you reply, frowning.

You look forward again, tearing your gaze away from his profile, face illuminated in the orange glow of the sunrise.

“I think I need to quit dancing.”

“Don’t. That was bad advice,” Suguru says, chuckling.

“I’m serious.”

He looks at you now, eyes softer than you’ve seen.

“You’re the most beautiful dancer.”

You tear your eyes away, staring at the sun. You squint, pulling your hoodie up over your nose this time. It’s funny. You can still see the stars in the sky, even as the sun comes up. It chases the night away, and you feel a warmth in your chest. A once-spirited young girl, broken by the brutality of her field. You sigh, letting it go, chased away by the day just as the stars were. Letting the hoodie fall below your chin, you look back at Suguru and find him still looking at you. His eyes roam your face, not scrutinizing, memorizing. As you open your mouth to speak, he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

–

Suguru drives you home. The drive is quiet, save for the low music. You play the conversation in your head over and over, mulling over what you should do. When he pulls in front of your apartment complex, you turn, facing him.

“I won’t quit,” you say, eyes fiery and newly determined.

“Good,” he smiles, “I’d miss you too much.”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous,” you laugh, the first genuine one in a good while.

“You’re makin’ me soft, princess.”

You shake your head.

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” You ask, your stomach doing somersaults as he gazes at you with that stupid, dopey, lopsided grin and those half-lidded eyes.

“You’re my favorite girl,” he supplies simply, like it’s so obvious.

“I bet you tell all the girls that,” you scoff.

“Nope. Only you,” he chuckles, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger on your skin a little bit too long to just be a friendly gesture. It’s tender, and there’s this look in his eye you don’t want to acknowledge.

You swallow. Sure, Suguru is smoking fucking hot but he’s also your coworker, which could make things awkward. You really don’t want another reason to hate work. But, you decide to throw caution to the wind, and see what happens. He’s your friend. He could be more. You shiver.

“Promise?” You ask, blinking twice. You stick your pinky out for good measure.

He loops his pinky in yours, shaking his head and laughing softly, the sound making you smile.

“Promise.” He raises your hands, placing a kiss on your interlocked fingers. Your heart just about stops at that, the gesture so… unlike what you’d expect from him. It has your mind reeling, thinking about what Suguru would act like as a boyfriend.

“Suguru…” you say, low as you hold each other’s gazes, the air suddenly charged with something.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

A response catches in your throat and you nod, helpless. He leans in, cupping your cheek with his hand, and you instinctively move forward, lips parting. He’s so close you can feel his breath. He hesitates, eyelids fluttering closed, before he finally, finally presses his lips to yours. You feel like your mouth molds to his, and in an instant, you’re clutching at the nape of his neck, threading your fingers through his hair. He hums, the sound low as it rumbles through you, and you squeeze your eyes closed tighter, scared it’ll be over soon. It seems as if Suguru has no intention of stopping, as he swipes his tongue across your bottom lip. You gasp into the kiss, it feels so right to be kissing Suguru like this, and he slips his tongue into your mouth, prodding gently at your tongue. You about cry when he pulls away, a strangled sound leaving your lips. He just smiles, still leaned in close as he presses a soft kiss to your lips.

“Come inside,” you exhale.

“I would’ve waited years to hear you say that. I’m so glad I didn’t have to.”

–

It’s easy, with Suguru. He’s peeling your hoodie off, lips connecting to yours the moment your head is freed. He’s got one hand splayed out over the small of your back, pulling you closer, closer, closer. Your hands fiddle with the zipper on your skirt and he slips his free hand under it to cup your ass, giving it a firm squeeze. His hand snakes up your spine, stopping at your bra to unhook it with nimble fingers and helping you shed it from your front. His hand slides around you, thumb grazing the underside of your breast. He cups it now, kneading at the soft flesh. Your hands tangle in his hair, feeling the soft strands between your fingers.

It’s just so easy. He kisses you like he’s taking care of you. The morning pours through the blinds in your room, dust trickling through the leaks of light. He lays you down, lips never separating from yours as your head hits the pillow. He pulls away to look at you, and he groans. His hair falls all around your face, framing both of you in inky black.

“You. You can’t even see yourself,” he says, low and surprisingly breathless.

You forego words for a shake of your head, and you inhale shakily.

“You’re one to talk…”

He chuckles, head dipping down to the crook of your neck, the sound reverberating throughout you. You always thought it was easier in the dark, but something about the soft light of the early morning feels just… so surreal. You tip your head to the side, letting his lips roam your neck, nipping at the soft skin.

His hand comes up, rolling your nipple between his forefinger and thumb, while his lips travel down your neck, to your collarbone, to your opposite breast, taking it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the bud. You arch yourself into him, your moans only spurring him on.

“That fuckin’ sound…” he groans against your breast. “Do it again…” he attaches his lips back to your nipple, teeth grazing it ever so gently and you whine.

He must’ve liked that because he's slipping his hand in between your thighs. His fingers press against your clothed center, feeling how wet you are through your panties. He can’t help himself, it seems, as he kisses down your stomach, head finding its place between your thighs. He inhales deeply, nose pressed against your cunt just aching with need, and he curses.

“Fuck, pretty girl. You smell amazing. You’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind, want you so much,” he babbles into your underwear, and you’re slowly starting to realize this guy is fucking filthy. You moan, the realization hitting you as he’s pulling your panties off with his teeth and stuffing them in his pocket. He sits up, pulling his long hair out of his face and into a messy ponytail. You rub your thighs together at the sight, feeling the slick between your legs. He comes back down, pressing his face against your inner thigh, inhaling your scent deeply.

“My favorite girl, look at this pretty pussy…” he drags a finger through your wet folds, prodding at your entrance with a thick finger. You’re panting now, expectant and wanting, and he slowly pushes one inside, his tongue lapping at your clit as his middle finger enters you. He moans against your cunt, continuing to work you with his mouth as you writhe underneath him. You clench your legs around his head, the feeling too much, but he pries your legs apart with his free hand, pulling away.

“Nuh, uh, baby. I gotta hear every fuckin’ sound you make. As much as I want those thighs as earmuffs,” he says, reattaching his lips and tongue to you.

He’s practically making out with it, pussy drunk and grinding his hips against the mattress. You feel the tension build in your gut, and he adds a second finger. You have to bite your lip, and he bites the inside of your thigh. You yelp, but the jolt of pain makes you clench around his fingers.

“Gonna make you come so hard you’ll be cryin’ baby. You want that?” he groans, working you with his fingers, his tongue darting back out to swirl around your clit. He sucks on it, and you buck your hips up into his mouth. He moans into you as you ride his tongue, grinding your cunt on his face like you need it. Because, you do. You need it so bad you’re begging him.

“Please, Suguru,” you slur, chasing your high.

“Oh god,” you cry, hand finding his hair, messing it up as strands fall in his face as he eats you out. You’re too focused on your release now, and his head stops moving, just letting you ride his face.

“C’mon pretty girl. Give it to me. Please,” he’s whimpering into your cunt, sucking on your clit and curling his fingers just right and- fuck.

Your vision goes white and you’re gasping, hot and heavy in your gut as your orgasm shreds the last of your resolve and you are crying, hot tears spilling from your eyes as you tell him to keep going, keep going. He laps at you, working you through your orgasm, as he grinds himself against the mattress again.

“So good, baby, you taste so good, I wanna make you squirt,” he says. He’s pumping his fingers into you as you ride out your orgasm, slipping a third in and you’re clenching so hard around him. He pulls his fingers out and you gush, you’ve never done that before and he’s drinking you up, your head spinning as you cry, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. He comes up for air finally, pressing a soft kiss on your stomach.

“Knew you could do it, princess,” he mumbles against your skin. He’s on his knees again, positioning your hips as he unzips his pants, his cock springing up as it's freed from the constraints of his trousers. He wastes no time sliding his cock between your folds and then pressing at your entrance, your pussy sucking him in greedily as you moan, unable to form words or any coherent sounds. He’s so fucking thick it’s making your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut to help you get through the feeling of him bottoming out.

“Don’t close your eyes, baby,” he says as he moves, thrusting into you again, “look at me while I’m fucking you.”

Your eyes fly open and you’re nodding, helpless as he throws your ankles over his shoulders and hits you just right.

“Jesus, fuck, Suguru…” You’re chanting his name, spurring him on.

“Christ, this pussy is fucking killing me,” Suguru groans as his cock slides back into you, making you cry out, his name spilling off your lips in short gasps. You feel your walls clench slightly at the feeling of being so full again, and he sets a brutal pace. He wraps his arms around your thighs as he fucks you, pulling you impossibly closer, and you can hear how your skin slaps. You can’t even give a fuck how it’s seven in the morning, or how you’re going to quit your job after this so no other man can even think about touching you. Suguru must be a mind reader, because he’s bending you in half now, lips by your ear as he drives into you so deep.

“Quit your fucking job. Let me take care of you. I wanna take care of you baby, please,” he babbles, breath stuttering as you suck him in.

“Bad advice,” you murmur, jaw slack as your mouth hangs open in a gasp.

“Fuck that, hnghh, want you all to myself. Gotta get you out of there, princess,” he hammers into you, cock so deep it’s brushing up against your cervix.

“My pretty girl shouldn’t have to- fuckkkkk, baby- deal with all that bullshit,” he’s babbling into your neck, teeth clamping down on your pulse point.

You clench around him at the need in his voice, the possessiveness eliciting a gasp from your lips. His girl? Your brain is mush at this point and you really like the sound of that. You feel the coil tightening in your gut as your second orgasm nears, and you're gripping at his hair, tugging on the strands, begging begging for your release.

“You like that baby? Like when I call you my girl?” He groans, pace unrelenting.

“You wanna be my girl, princess? Please. Please be my girl. Need you so bad. Always have.” He kisses you, not giving you a chance to answer. His need is felt as his tongue is shoved into your mouth, swallowing up your sounds. As he pulls away, you’re a mess.

“Please, Suguru, Sugu… wanna be your girl, yes, yes,” you’re panting and he just whimpers into the crook of your neck again, breathy as he picks up his pace. The tip of his cock hits just right at this speed and you’re coming, eyes hitting the back of your skull as you shut them, rolled behind closed eyelids. He grips your chin in his hand, tapping on your cheek.

“Look at me, baby.”

And that’s how you are with Suguru. You look at him, because he asked you to. As your eyes meet, he knits his eyebrow together, groaning. You think, maybe, he needs you.

You see stars around Suguru as you come, vision blurry from the wetness in your eyes and the intensity of your orgasm. Suguru groans as you spasm around his length, and his hips start to stutter. He is getting erratic with his movements, but takes it and fucks you through it just how you need it.

“Shit, baby. Let me come inside you.” He’s begging you, hand on your cheek and his thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you come down from your high, sensitive and spent. You let him prod his thumb into your mouth, slack-jawed and trusting. You don’t close it or suck, just let him do it. He groans at the sight, and you nod, finally.

All it takes is that nod and the sight of your loose jaw. He thrusts, once, twice, and then he’s spilling into you, moaning in your ear, and you’re gasping, clutching at his back as he comes.

“Fuck, baby, princess, love this, love your pussy, milking me for all I’m worth, fuck-“ he gasps, your hand sliding up to his hair as he babbles nonsense into your ear.

“Fuckin’ love your pussy, love you so much, God,” he pants and you freeze, the words hitting you like a freight train.

He stills, lips coming up to press a kiss to your forehead, the gesture tender and sweet in stark opposition to his filthier behaviors. Suguru freezes, his lips still on your forehead, before he pulls away.

“What did you say?” You ask quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“I…” he starts, eyes mirroring yours.

“I didn’t- I don’t… I don’t know what came over me.”

“You don’t mean it?” You ask, a pang of disappointment aching in your chest. You’re not sure why. It must’ve just slipped out. He doesn’t have to mean it. You’re close, but nothing about your relationship insinuates he should feel that way.

“No! I mean… I,” he fumbles with his words, exhaling sharply. “I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I just didn’t want you to think I was like everyone else.” He sighs, sitting up. The feeling of him pulling out of you has you feeling strangely empty emotionally.

You’re not sure what to say. This is Suguru. Your closest friend as of recently, you work together. Though, you promised to quit your job for him, you think.

Fuck it.

You smile, eyes bright and gleaming as your hands find his cheeks.

“Thank you,” you say. And you mean it. “For loving me.”

That’s all you can offer him right now. Your thanks, and a promise as you hold your pinky up to him again, face flushed and hair sticking to your forehead.

“I’ll be your girl.”

“Promise?” He looks at you with that familiar lopsided grin.

“Mhmm. I promise.”

Softly, you kiss the junction of your fingers.

#geto suguru x reader #jjk smut #geto suguru x fem!reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #suguru x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #bartender!geto #dancer!reader #reader hates her job

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daylighted · 4 months ago

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PROMISE ME THAT YOU'LL BE THERE . . .

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤAFTER AFTERCARE !

the rockstar next door can't get his mind off of the innocent little ballet dancer plaguing his thoughts . . . even knowing it's a bad idea to get involved - especially knowing it's a bad idea.

tropes. age gap. rockstar x ballet dancer. enemies to lovers ( mild ). bad boy & good girl. slowburn to hea. love/hate. innocent!reader. love/hate. toxic relationship.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤTRACKLIST . . .

one. good girl faith. two. should run for the hills. three. half-past five. four. sorry that u love me! five. can't we keep it in the dark? six. seven texts, two missed calls. seven. i wish she was you. eight. i don't want him anyway, girl, take him! nine. we can never be friends. ten. your white mustang. eleven. a fragile line. twelve. don't you love me? thirteen. for you, i bleed. fourteen. miss possessive.

#dahlia's ☆ journal #★ aftercare #rockstar!jensen x ballet dancer!reader #fic masterpost #fic promo #rockstar!jensen #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles drabble #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen x reader #jensen x you #fem!reader

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heedeungsha · 4 months ago

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TRIO `✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

+ Content warning(s): fluff, relationship with danceracha, Leeknow’s girlfriend!reader, Hyunjin’s girlfriend!reader, Felix’s girlfriend!reader, dancer!reader

Danceracha as your bf!danceteacher

. ⋆౨ৎ˚

Lee Minho

Leeknow was your dance teacher before your boyfriend-I mean, it is how you guys met. You were merely a trainee and he’d secretly been watching you outside the dancer room practicing alone, before finally growing the courage to help you. He watched intensely behind you, leaned up against wall while studying your mirrored reflection. You keep your eyes trained forward, so you don’t get distracted by the way his muscles flex when he crossed him arms over his broad chest. It’s a set up and he knows it too, slowly walking up to you without a word as he places his hands on your waist, twisting your body the correct way.

Leeknow’s strict with teaching choreos but luckily, he doesn’t go hard on you like he does his members. “No, try again,” He’d yell out from behind you and you’d do as he said. “No try ag-“ he’d call out not even 5 seconds later. “Leeknow!” you’d sigh, dropping your hand your side just before earning a toothy smile from him. He’d joke around a lot to lighten the thick hot air filling the practice room.

Leeknow would kiss your forehead, “Good job, baby. Next time, try this.” He’d show you how to prefect the step before backing up to let you do it on your own. Despite his stringent teachings, he’d hold in a laugh every time you fell on your ass from moving too fast. You’d pout, feeling frustrated with the step you’re stuck on and he’d come over to pick you up-after laughing up a storm in the corner.

Leeknow would pat you on the ass each time you got the choreo right, and they quickly become rough. His hand would then stay there as he turned you against the mirror, and made out up with you. It was like his way of letting you know you did good. “Same time tomorrow?” He’d joke, knowing he’d be more strict just to tease you.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin was one of those teachers that took over, showing you how to dance the choreo the right way-with powerful charisma. He’d make you sit back and watch him dance first . His feirceful sharp movements were attractive, highlighting his passionate dancing skills. His duality when he danced was jaw dropping-it’s insane how he’d go from to cute and giggly to intense and serious once the song started playing. That’s what attract you to him in the first place, before finding the courage to talk to him after catching him alone in the practice room without his members.

“Okay your turn love,” Hyunjin would pull you to the middle to learn the choreo with him. “5, 6, 7, 8..” the chorus would play and he’d begin dancing, and you’d follow his movements. As you slowly start to get it, your cheeks would heat up everything he’s attack you with kisses, encouraging you to keep getting better. “You’re doing so good love,” he’d shower you with warm praises.

Hyunjin would study the way your body moved, correcting you whenever you missed a step or did it wrong. He was also your teacher first, knowing how important dance was to you. He loved that you didn’t take offense to his advice and it only fueled you to become a good of a dancer as he is. By the end of it, you were both a sweaty mess, his long blond hair glued to his forehead and his ends sticking to his neck and yours in a ruffled bun. He was irresistible, rolling his sleeves up while showing off his muscular arms. “Focus love,” he’d snap his fingers at your gawking and laugh a storm when you rolled your eyes. He’d help you practice all day until you got it right and picked you up, twirling around the room with you in his arms when you did.

Lee Yongbok

Felix is patient with you. He still remembers he’s your boyfriend after all. To him, he’d met you outside of being an idol, being your dance teacher was just a bonus to be around you everyday. His the kind of dance teacher that makes learning a new chore fun. He’d crack jokes to make you laugh when you miss a step in the routine or tease you, and plant kisses every time you remembered a step. “Princess, it’s okay,” he assured you when you feel frustrated with the choreo. He’d give you space as the practice room grew hot or stood off to the side as he danced with you lazily. Still, you’d catch him smiling at your progress.

Felix would slowly show you, softly holding your waist so you didn’t hurt yourself as he guided you movements. “When you turn, you have to move with the beat, follow the flow princess,” he coos in your ears as he explains how to do a certain step which left you blushing at the thought of his lips against your skin. He’d only laugh, patting your ass to make you focus. He knows how you’re a slow learner so he takes his time with you, making sure you understood everything he said. Apart from being your dance teacher, he’s your proctector first—watching you attentively and quickly running before you can hit the ground.

“Let’s maybe take a break and get some food. I don’t want my princess to stress herself out.“ Felix says, trying to lighten the mood when you get frustrated with how long it’s taking you to learn the choreo. He’d buy you your favorite ramen and once you were full, he’d make an excuse to go home and sleep before going back to the practice room to start again.

. ⋆౨ৎ˚

I enjoyed writing this a lot! Something small and cute. Send more requests (🐹)

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jadastarkey · 26 days ago

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Nice!

taylor swift x fem!eras dancer!reader

warnings: none? lil smooch?

genre: fluff

sypnosis: dancer!reader and taylor are secretly dating but before the show, you agreed that you'd surprise her to make it public.

~°•☆•°~

the whole show was filled with tension between you and Taylor. she was so on edge because of the promise. the promise that you'd make it public. the promise you'd both be out.

she was messing up when you got close. lyrics were getting mumbled, and she'd zone out, lost in your face, or sing the wrong part.

the whole time you were internally laughing your ass off, seeing her so spaced from the thought of you.

it was in the midnights era when it finally happened. during bejeweled, you asked kam if you could do his little dance solo, and being the absolute g he is, he obviously said yes and agreed to keep it a secret from taylor.

"I polish up real, I polish up real nice!" taylor sung, looking at kam so he could step forward. the shock on her face when you stepped forward was humorous.

you took her micless hand and twirled her around before bringing her into your body and holding one of her legs up. she let out a squeak of surprise before you brought your lips down to hers and caught her in a kiss.

she smiled into it, and her cue to sing again passed by many beats before you disconnected, smiling at each other.

it felt like it was just the two of you, in your own euphoric world of bliss.

you let go of her and continued to dance. your eyes didn't leave her, but neither did hers, so it was fine.

the audience went absolutely crazy. they thought she was with travis? they thought she was straight? no. she was with you. she was in a pr relationship with travis to be with you and it was clear the contract was over now.

the song choice was quite ironic too.

~°•☆•°~

After the show had finished, you knocked on the door of her dressing room "tay?" you called out, beginning to knock again but the second your hand was even close to the door she opened it, making you step back, almost hitting her

"come in" she smiled, grabbing your hand and pulling you in

you closed the door behind you and sat on the couch, gently yanking her down to sit with you "surprised?"

"yeah I was actually. but I was expecting it because it took you so long to do it" she said while you rolled your eyes

"welllllll I know you were still surprised. you should've seen your face"

"I'm sure I will tomorrow" she said more seriously. she knew coming out would come with backlash. she had to keep karlie a secret too.

you could feel the regret seeping out of her. you cupped her face and pulled hit closer "taylor, look at me" you said softly

she bit her gums and looked into your eyes.

"dont overthink. there's nothing we can do about hate because, shit I know you hate me quoting you but the haters are gonna hate. you can't stop them.. its just what they do. you'd get backlash for breathing the wrong way so don't stress it. you've advocated for gay rights and pride multiple times before. if that wasn't hint enough I think this is. I know I'm not big like travis but I can still protect you like he does." as you spoke, she let out the smallest of smiles but it was clear as day to you "I love you, and no jealous troll will ever make me think any differently. you're mine, forever And always"

"I love you too" she whispered and sunk into the quiet "but please stop quoting me. I swear it's my 13th reason why"

"isn't 13 your lucky number though?" you smirked as she hit your arm

"shut up, you actual moron"

soon, the room was filled with laughter and any regret or guilt had diminished. it was just what you did.

~°•☆•°~

a/n: first little les thing on here how we feeling, guys?

two posts in one day, you're being spoiled

uhhh not proofread

#taylor swift #wlw #fanfic #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift x fem!reader #wuh luh wuh #fanfiction #taylornation #the eras tour #dancer #fem reader #eras tour dancers #pr relationships #travis kelce #taylor and travis #lesbian #lgbtqia

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tumblerislovetumblerislife · 3 months ago

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it's sapphic time (mind the rating!)

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moonliesty · 11 months ago

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latenighttalkinqwp · 4 months ago

Note

kk arnold x dancer!reader, maybe some smut too

kk arnold x dancer!gf

as they finished calling your entry number and the applause quieted down, the walk onto the stage felt like forever. your eyes darted across the room, looking for a specific pair to meet yours. the first few beats of your song began to play, and your mind immediately went quiet. this was your last time competing on stage before college, and you knew you couldn’t risk it. you have put every bit of your soul into perfecting this solo for this exact moment, and everyone in the room was able to tell. weather it was your technique being near to perfect, or the story being told with your body, the judges were loving it.

as you knee-dropped to the floor, you slowly looked up and met her eyes across the room. her smile was wide, and her phone was recording this moment for you. the emotion on kk’s face was evident, and it gave you the motivation to continue performing to the best of your ability. she has been with you training all these months, and she’s one of the few people who know how hard you have wanted this. being on the stage at nationals your senior year has been your forever dream— and now you’re finally here. “bum roll up…hold this leg. dear god hold this leg baby.” kk whispered, having every moment of your choreography memorized.

the angle of your body shifted, and your leg slowly began to come up into a développé for five counts. your toes were pointed, and your back slowly began to arch as you fell into a back-walkover. the audience cheered, as you began to walk off stage. your eyes were watering, and your team ran to hug you as the audience was standing to applaud you. “that was so beautiful.” your teacher whispered in your ear, hugging you tightly. you muttered a quiet thank you, just trying to get out from backstage. as the next number was called, you were finally able to break away and start looking for your person. kk was doing the same thing, looking around the convention center looking for your navy blue costume.

“kk!” you waved, speeding up your walk as you noticed her in the distance. she smiled, pushing past a few other dancers to finally pull you into a tight embrace. “you did so amazing baby.” she immediately said, wrapping her arms around your waist. you could feel your cheeks heat up, her compliments still having that affect on you. “thank you.” you mumbled, pulling back from her embrace slowly. you began to look around for a more quiet place, the constant flow of people overwhelming you. “i found a place we could go when i was walking over here, cmon.” she said, knowing what you needed. her arm wrapped around your waist, as she led you to an empty meeting room that the convention center had left open. you immediately sat on one of the couches, pulling kk down with you. she laughed, handing you a bottle of water she had bought for you earlier.

“i’m so proud of you.” she leaned in, pressing a small kiss to your red lips. you pouted, “what kind of kiss was that?” you said. “i didn’t want to mess up your stage makeup.” you rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for a deep kiss. kk’s hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you into her lap. your emotions were still going haywire, the adrenaline from performing still surging through you. “you looked so good up there.” kk mumbled, pulling away to start leaving kissed down your neck. you let out a quiet moan, throwing your head back. her hands ran up and down your open back, and your body covered in chills. “kamorea..” your eyes flutter shut, as your body begins to melt into hers. “what is it baby?” she pulls you back in for a kiss, her hands wrapping your waist firmly. “mm..need you.” you say against her lips, still kissing her intensely.

“are you sure? so many people could hear us..” she leans up to whisper in your ear, then kisses down to the nape of your neck. “fuck- yes kk. please” before you could even finish your sentence, she had begun pulling your costume off, and leaving kisses down your your bare chest. your breathing picked up, as you pulled her shirt off quickly. she began to pull the rest of your costume off, and pulling down your tights gently so they didn’t rip. “you looked so good up there baby-“ she rubbed her hand up to the inside of your thigh, feeling the heat coming from your core. your hands come out to hold the back of the couch, as kk slowly begins to take off your underwear. it all happens fast after that- her slim fingers sliding into your core, while her thumb rubs circles on your clit. “fuck- oh my god.” you moan, biting down on your bottom lip. “you feel so good baby- so wet f’me” she rasps out, her fingers pumping in and out of you at a fast pace.

you can feel the knot in your stomach forming, and your hips begin to grind against her hand. “i’m so close- kk. oh my god.” your hand comes up to your breast, as you throw your head back. “that’s it baby, come for me” her fingers slow down for a moment, as you slowly come down from the high. kk slides her fingers out slowly, pulling them up to her mouth. your slick had covered her pants and nearly her entire hand- but that clearly didn’t bother her as she licked off her fingers. “you did so good baby.” she kisses your cheek, trying to find something to help clean you off. your chest is still heaving as you are trying to catch your breath, and your mascara is definitely running. “i can’t believe we just fucked at a dance competition- kamorea!” you giggled, pulling her back down and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “what? don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.” she laughs, helping you put your costume back on.

“you’re lucky i love you.” you both laugh, trying to make each other look presentable again.

- thank you so much for reading all the way through!

- guys this has been in the drafts for a hot minute… but lmk if this is good pls ( im not much of a smut writer so be kind 😣 )

#kk arnold #kk arnold headcannons #kk arnold x fem!reader #kk arnold x reader #dancer #kk arnold smut #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #jazzies masterlist

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corrodedcoffins-blog · 1 year ago

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Eras Tour Love

masterlist

note: already watched the eras tour film too many times (no such thing) and i got bored writing usernames half way through so if you notice them start to get lazy...its cause i was

also face claim is taylorbanks39 on insta

warnings: you have to have a little imagination, just pretend Taylor went to canada after the states (i wish) then the rest of the international dates 😊👍

word count: n/a

♡ summary: How will fans react to Quinn dating one of Taylor Swift's dancers?

♡ Quinn Hughes x Eras Tour dancer!reader

request ✗

_ynln

liked by lhughes_06, taylorerastour, and others

_ynln: life lately (still don't believe it 😭)

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Halyn4386: luke???

liztheautor.givingcontext: him, jack, and quinn were at the vancouver show!

Halyn4386: WHAT.

sidney_1989: shes so gorgeous!!

lhughes_gf: ...is she dating luke?

sadhabsfan: ELLEN FOLLOWS!!

happycanucksfan: WHAT?!?!??

123lgb_: LOVE the natural hair on you!!!

11.drysdale: completely unrelated to these comments, but do you like hockey?

_ynln: been liking it more and more

I.am.fr: IS SHE FR?!?

ilikehockey: she's everything 😭

_ynln

liked by sydneymosss, _quinnhughes, and others

_ynln: ERAS TOUR FILM WORLD PREMIERE!!!!!

can't explain in worlds how thankful i am. dreamt of moments like these since i was a little girl. i always wanted to be a professional dancer and when dreams become reality, it's just magical. thank you, taylor! ily! and ily eras family!!

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mama_l/n: so proud of you!!!

_ynln: thank you momma! ❤️❤️❤️

jayjay86: are you single?.. asking for a friend

mercer_babe: is the friend quinn hughes?

price31: nah, he the reasons the answers no

nora__: the dress 🔥🔥🔥

elblue6: ❤️

iloveursons: are y'all seeing this?

imnotellen: ELLEN IS COMMENTING! WHAT IS GOING ON?!

_ynln

liked by elblue6, jackhughes, and others

_ynln: y'all will not let this go (ily)

view all comments

screaming_: AHHHHH

crying_: they're 😭 so 😭 cute 😭

perfectstorms_: the hottest wag fr

pheobe.ily: jack photo bombing the second pic lol

mitski.ily: all i know is this is a win for the black quinn girls!!

taylor.ily: rise up!

_quinnhughes: your beautiful 😍

_ynln: you're*

jackhughes: dumbass.

lhughes_06: don't act like you knew that

lana.ily: you gotta love her 😭😭

sabrina.ily: you are beautiful not you look beautiful‼️

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x female reader #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x dancer!reader #dancer!reader #hughes brothers fic #nhl fanfiction #hughes brothers #quinn hughes x black!reader

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daylighted · 5 months ago

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( AFTERCARE ) . . .ㅤㅤONE !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ─ ㅤㅤㅤㅤTHE new rock band in town has some nerve, causing mayhem in the venue next to your studio every night. but how do you stay MAD at the lead singer when he looks at you like that ?

PART ONE. good girl faith !ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤincludes jensen is an asshole. brat!reader. fictional bandmates. fictional locations. maybe improper ballet terminology.

ㅤㅤㅤ─ word count: 1.9k

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤprev partㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤmasterlistㅤㅤㅤ.ㅤㅤㅤnext partㅤㅤㅤ.

ㅤTHERE was a lot of pressure riding on you this ballet season. principal dancer was a hard role to achieve, and after months of painstaking practice, you’d managed it. with winter fast approaching ( even though, in dallas, it was hardly noticeable at all — it felt more like a proper autumn than anything ) the laurel dance academy was putting on sleeping beauty.

and you’d managed to snag aurora.

not only was it a feat in itself getting into laurel, the most highly sought after dance academy on the upper side of dallas, but you’d gotten a lead in your second year attending the college. it was something to be proud of, of course — but not something to let yourself get caught up on.

that was why you were at the dance studio that fateful night.

it was cooler than usual, crisp air breezing between the streetlights and dancing through the scattering leaves, as you made your way across the street to destiny dance. the one at laurel, of course, was much better, but it was on the entire other side of town than your apartment.

destiny was across the street and accessible, and so you spent the majority of your time there when not at the academy. that was your life summed up — dancing for practice, and dancing for learning.

the workers at destiny knew you by name at that point, and even gave you a key to let yourself in whenever you needed, since you tended to only have time to drop in after they’d closed.

you sat on the wooden floor and started the process of removing your shoes and trading them for your pointe shoes, when there was a loud unmistakable thump from the wall.

the building to the right of destiny dance was a small coffee shop — and therefore closed. the building to the left, as far as you knew, was empty. vacant. it was once a concert venue, but it hadn’t been such in a long time.

you brushed it off after a couple of minutes, making sure to see if it happened again, and when it didn’t, you finished lacing the pointe shoes up your ankles.

even though you didn’t have to when you were practicing, you took dance extremely seriously. it was just how you were. it was your passion, had been since you were young; that was why you were here tonight, after all. when you could have come in a simple leotard and skirt, you’d chosen a sleek black one that you loved, and a pale pink skirt that every student at laurel was provided. the best of the best, because looking the best meant performing the best, and that was what you strived for.

it was not even a split second before you’d propped your leg up on the balance beam to stretch out your thigh when the thumping started up again. it was easier to tell this time, where it’d come from: the left. the abandoned venue.

and it wasn’t just a single thump like the first, it was a series of them. pounding, rattling the mirrors lining the studio’s walls. you watched, in disbelief, as the glass shook and rattled against the plaster behind it.

fury bubbles up in your blood, and before you know it, you’re stomping toward the studio’s front doors. in all of the time that you’d been practicing at destiny dance, no one had broken into the abandoned building next door. it was on a highly populated street in the city, for christ’s sake! and the fact that someone had broken in, and was practically flaunting it—

yeah, you were a bit angry. even if you hadn’t come to practice that night, you would’ve still had to hear the blaring speakers and the thumping bass. your apartment complex was across the street, and from your venture outside, it was evident that it was just as loud out there as it felt inside the studio.

to your shock, there were lights on inside of the venue. shoddily strung ones, sure, but lights nonetheless. when you went to try the door, you found it not only unlocked, but gapped. whoever broke in wasn’t just asking to be caught, they were inviting the authorities right in.

the venue was small, but much more spacious than how it looked on the outside. there was a huge open space directly in front of the stage, a thin coating of dust turning the glossy wood a dull gray color, and behind a barricade, rows upon rows of black seats.

everything looked a bit dusty, but not decimated, like you expected. when you heard from other locals that sunset blvd was abandoned, you expected it to be in ruins.

what you did not expect, of course, was for there to be a full band on the expansive stage directly to the left of you. not a single one of the four people on stage noticed you, which was expected. the music they were blaring out was loud enough that it would mask the sound of you slamming the glass entrance door behind you.

so, you stomped your happy little ass right down the center of the rows of seats. one of the seats was pulled down from its folded position and held a cooler, lid propped open and exposing icy water and handfuls of beer cans. littered around your feet were the remnants of what they must have been drank already.

someone must have noticed you while you’d been eyeing their mess, because the music comes to a slow, decrescendoing halt. a loud, echoing guitar strum fades out slowly.

your eyes lift, and you’re met with the most piercing green ones you’ve ever seen. and of course, you don’t let this deter you at all, because you’re infuriated, but it’s an observation you clock instantly. along with the fact that they belong to what must be the lead singer.

he has dark brown hair to his chin, sweaty strands strung across his forehead. facial hair is neatly trimmed along his jawline and above his full lips. he’s wearing a cut-off sleeve black t-shirt with a band you’ve never heard of printed on the front, exposing thick muscled arms covered in ink black tattoos down to the knuckles. each hand adorned at least one silver ring.

and he was looking right at you, something unreadable in his gaze — but amusement definitely prominent. his eyes raked over you like he was undressing you slowly with nothing but that gaze. and it took only a few seconds longer for you to realize why.

“are you lost?” the man asks, and god, does he sound arrogant. he’s still got that stupid look in his eyes, too, firm muscled arms crossed over his broad chest.

your anger comes back tenfold when one of the guys behind him holding a guitar strums it again, and the sound echoes through the building. “no,” you have to shout it, and that only makes your fury more red hot and blistering, “i’m not lost. can you turn your music down?”

“no can do.” the man gives a solid shake of his head back and forth, and that’s it. he’s turning around like this entire conversation means nothing and is nothing, and he’s dismissing you.

and that just won’t do.

“hey, i’m not done here,” you shout again, even though it’s not necessary this time. if he won’t take you seriously, then necessary measures have to be taken, don’t they? “i’m trying to practice next door, and i can’t even hear myself think with your stupid guitar—”

“bass,” he interjects over his shoulder, and you can’t see his face from his elevated stature, but you can see the dimple in the cheek that’s turned to face you. “that one’s not the guitar. reggie, can you…”

“yeah, on it,” says whoever the hell reggie is, and before your eyes can even flick to which of the three bandmates surrounding the man it could be, the loudest guitar riff you’ve ever heard echoes throughout the empty venue.

you must physically flinch, because the lead singer’s mouth turns up in an infuriating smirk. your expression, though, never falters from the irritation it’s been since you walked in.

“that,” he shouts over the onslaught of sound, “is guitar.”

“are you done?” you ask when the sound trails off into static again, and then silence.

lead singer shakes his head. takes a couple of steps toward you again, his booted steps echoing on the wooden floor of the stage. he bends, kneeling, and even that has him still looking down on you. “why are you practicing if the place next door is closed?” he asks, his softened voice twinged with a playful lilt.

“why are you here if the place is shut down?” you shoot back, your arms crossed firmly over your chest. still, though, the bastard has the audacity to try and steal a glance at your covered chest. “can you just turn the speakers down or something? why are you making such a fuss?”

“you’re right,” he concedes, and it makes you downright bristle at how easily he does now, now that you’ve stood here like a fool for ten minutes, arguing with a man you don’t know and having your eardrums blown out. “you just tell me when it’s good, princess, and i’ll stop.”

you open your mouth to ask what the hell that means, but he’s already walking away again. his stride is arrogant and slow, footsteps echoing again on the wood, until he stops in front of one of the speakers.

his index and thumb close around a small knob on the bottom of the speaker, his eyebrows shooting up in a silent question as he watches your reaction. reggie, you assume, starts mindlessly strumming his guitar again. ever so slightly, the sound quietens.

“more,” you say, your lips in a firm line.

the lead singer’s lips, though, quirk at the corners. he complies. it’s better, but not nearly enough.

“more,” you say again, more firmly this time, your foot tapping in your irritation. he was toying with you, and you knew it — but it was working, and that was what was getting you so angry.

again, he concedes, and still, it’s loud enough that the entire room is filled with the sound of a guitar’s melody.

“jesus christ, more,” you say, and it’s lucky that the guitar is so loud, because you do stomp your foot in punctuation out of your fury.

finally, finally, the sound is quiet enough that it doesn’t make your eardrums feel like they’re bleeding. the smile you shoot to the lead singer is sickly sweet and not at all genuine.

you can’t even feel that satisfaction for very long, though, because he’s wearing a smile nearly identical.

“what are you looking at me like that for?” you snap, a little too loudly this time, now that the room isn’t riddled with the background feedback of the speakers and the hum of the band’s music.

the lead singer’s shoulders lift in a little shrug, and even from your distance, you can see the glimmer in his green eyes. “just… thinking about how sexy it would be to have those pretty pink lips saying that in a different context.”

your face immediately reddens. there’s one, two, three seconds before you realize there isn’t a snarky comeback loaded up in the chamber, not to that, and you turn promptly on your heel to stomp out of the building.

it isn’t until your leg is propped on the balance beam again, thigh muscle aching with the stretch, that the mirrors begin to rattle again.

and you realize, too, that there were two speakers on that stage.

ㅤㅤA/N i do not know ballet terminology so if anything is wrong forgive me i'm just a girl romanticizing a bad boy / good girl dynamic </3 if it's right though ... i literally knew all of this and never doubted it!!

tags! @happyladyduck, @casatoan, @mo0nwalker, @manicjk, @stereotypicalbarbie, @inpraise0fbacchus !

#dahlia's ☆ journal #★ aftercare #rockstar!jensen x ballet dancer!reader #rockstar!jensen #jensen ackles #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles fic #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles smut #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen x reader #jensen x you #fem!reader #jensen ackles drabble

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daydreaming-en-pointe · 1 year ago

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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.

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