#no fr i love that he genuinely enjoys the company of people who are unlike himself rather than scorning “urbane” men | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kyojurismo · 11 months

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I just an idea all the hashira X fem reader going on a big fun trip to the hot springs, possible suggestiveness from older characters, not muichiro though but mainly just fluff and goofy fun

YOU WERE SO SMART TO PUT THIS INTO MY INBOX BC IT LITERALLY CAUGHT UP MY WHOLE ATTENTION I’VE NEVER ANSWERED SO FAST TO THIS STUFF FR

okay i believe that would be super fun because *starts crying thinking about them all*

shinobu would stay close to your side the whole time and rest her head on your shoulder as you’re talking about anything, sometimes she would caress your hips and pinch your thighs just to tease you and then smile at you mischievously.

muichiro is enjoying his time as he listens to y’all, trying to concentrate y’know. he’s staying close to gyomei bc he’s on babysitting duty and has to keep everything under control because as the oldest he’s the most responsible. he for sure wants you all to enjoy the free time and keep your heads off things, but responsibly.

mitsuri took the food for everyone with her because she of course would get hungry [my beloved i’d die to eat something w her] and she would love to play with your hair and repeatedly compliment you !!

obanai gives you the side eye, but if mitsuri is happy he is content too. he listens to your talking though because unlike a lot of people you’re saying intelligent things most of the time.

kyojuro would be close to you too as he enjoys your company and i strongly believe he would caress your cheek or shoulder every once in a while even if he hides whatever his intention with his usual smile; tengen wouldn’t have problems in complimenting your appearance freely and flirting with you though, and that would for sure make you a little flustered.

giyu is silent most of the time but he’s sending you glances that speaks volume. when he moved closer to you after some time of being surrounded by the others and gets a tiny bit of privacy ( there’s no privacy the others are just grabbing something to eat uh ) he moves his hand to squeeze your hand under the water and smiles timidly at you.

sanemi hides it better so he would simply converse with you, if he’s in a good mood of course. otherwise he would just stay close to you and have small talks w iguro, as he enjoys his company.

okay after showing you that literally all of them are attracted to you, i genuinely think that it would be an amazing day and it would help everyone act like normal people ( bc they’re young after all, so ). that’s up to you choosing who’s taking you home later, i guess? 🧐

#📂 — writing !!#shinobu kocho x reader #mitsuri kanroji x reader #obanai iguro x reader #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #kyojuro rengoku x reader #tengen uzui x reader #gyomei himejima x reader #muichiro tokito x reader #giyuu tomioka x reader #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic

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aelixandra · 6 years

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Dreaming On Your Feet: Chapter 17

Read on Ao3!

Summary: Aelin Galathynius is one of the newest company members of the Rifthold Ballet Theatre, and she is eager to make all of her dreams a reality. She has the talent, the ambition, the walls no one can get past, and the thick skin that no one can get under. Except for new principal dancer Rowan Whitethorn. He’s arrogant, talented, and infuriating - and they just might have more in common than they think.

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Chapter 17: Music of the Heart

“Excellent work, everyone, that’s all for today. See you on Monday morning!”

At Eudora’s words, the dancers broke into applause before going to collect their bags to leave. It was only two weeks until The Nutcracker, and Aelin was feeling pretty good about Dewdrop. The choreography was challenging but fun. Rewarding, even.

And, Aelin had to admit, there was no one else she’d rather be dancing her dream Nutcracker role with than Rowan.

Every time they ran through Waltz of the Flowers, his joy matched her own, the smiles on his face genuine and warm.

She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and glanced at him. His silver hair was beginning to grow longer, now touching his ears. He seemed stronger than he was during Giselle, more confident.

As was ballet etiquette, she made her way over to him and curtsied. “Thank you, Rowan,” she said.

“Thank you, too,” he replied with a small bow.

“Aelin and Rowan, could you come here for a second?” Eudora was waving them over. Aelin looked at Rowan, who simply shrugged. They made their way to the ballet mistress, who greeted them with a beaming smile. “I know there are still a couple of weeks until opening night, but I just wanted to tell you two what a beautiful job you’re doing.”

Aelin smiled up at Rowan.

“Waltz of the Flowers was always my favorite part of Nutcracker,” Eudora continued wistfully. “And to see young, talented dancers like yourselves taking on the challenge of the choreography while becoming a true partnership, and doing it beautifully . . . well, you’re making me very proud.”

Aelin had no idea what to say. Her eyes burned as she gave Eudora a curtsy. “That means more than you know, Eudora.”

Eudora’s focus shifted to Rowan. “And you came here only a few months ago, not knowing anyone at all, and it seems like you’ve friends – and perhaps even a place you belong, hm?”

Aelin read the surprise on Rowan’s face. Eudora had an uncanny ability to know people, sometimes better than they knew themselves.

Rowan dipped his head. “I grow more certain of that every day.”

Aelin’s chest tightened with pride as Eudora glanced between them. “I’ll see you both on Monday, then,” she said as she swept out the door.

Aelin looked up at Rowan again. “Is that true?” she asked quietly.

He smiled at her warmly. He took one of her hands and gently squeezed her fingers. “Every word.” And even when he let go of her hand and left the studio, Aelin still felt the imprint of his fingers around hers.

----------

Rowan had been sitting on his couch for a half-hour staring at it. He hadn’t touched it yet.

It shone exactly as it did a year ago, its polished surface gleaming in the afternoon sun that streamed in through his living room window. He had bought it one day not long after Lyria passed, but it had been another few months before he had actually started playing it. He didn’t take lessons, choosing instead to watch videos online.

He hated it when people saw anything he did less than perfectly.

But he was done with secrets. Done with keeping parts of himself hidden.

His walls had been torn down, shredded to pieces by one ballerina. A ballerina who was anything but ordinary.

And he had promised her that there would be no more secrets between them.

But beyond his promise . . . she made him want to start playing again. Feeling and creating music at his fingertips was a feeling unlike any other, and he wanted to feel it again. She made him want to feel it all again.

He wanted to be whole, and ever since she had come dancing into his life, the hollow, empty space in his chest had been filling in, piece by piece.

With a sigh, Rowan reached out and picked up his guitar.

----------

A beautiful, early winter morning, a day off, and still Aelin found herself in the studio.

She was rehearsing a few Dewdrop passages, and there was one in particular that seemed to be giving her fits today. Eudora had been very complimentary last week; the memory brought a smile to her face.

But today she just felt. . . off. Uninspired.

She headed back to the corner, starting the phrase again. Double piqué turn, attitude, balancé, balancé, glissade into a developpé –

Aelin hopped out of the turn with a curse. She rested her hands on her hips, looking at herself in the mirror.

Wisps of her gold hair had escaped her bun, and a couple drops of sweat were starting to trail down her forehead. She was working hard, and despite the mistakes, she felt good. Strong.

She met her own eyes in the mirror.

In the span of a few months, she now felt the best she had felt since Sam passed away. She was beginning to feel like she belonged exactly where she was. And she knew deep down that she had a silver-haired, tattooed male dancer to thank for a large part of that feeling.

She couldn’t ignore the sudden thump of her heart, as if to confirm it.

Then, for some reason, her gaze flicked over her shoulder in the mirror to the grand piano that gleamed in the corner of the room.

She hadn’t played for the past two years. She hadn’t wanted to.

But maybe that was what she needed today. It was one thing to feel the music in your body as a dancer, but it was another thing entirely to feel it coming from your own fingers.

Aelin made her way over to the piano and sat down. The piano score was conveniently open to “Waltz of the Flowers.”

She slowly slid her fingers onto the ivory keys, gently running them over the surface. She smiled.

“Hello, old friend,” she whispered.

And then she began to play.

----------

Rowan had been playing for about forty-five minutes now.

And gods, he felt so unbelievably good.

He didn’t even think about the songs he was playing; the music poured from his fingertips, finally released from being bottled up for the past two years.

He had texted Aelin not too long ago. What’re you up to?

When he hadn’t gotten a response for a while, he put his guitar back in its case, sending one more text. I’m heading to the studio. I’ll be there in 10 if you want to join me!

He wanted to dance now, while he was feeling so creatively rejuvenated and re-inspired.

And if she happened to be there . . .

Well, in all honesty, he didn’t know.

But it always seemed to be better when she was there.

* * *

Rowan opened the main door of the studio building, and the first thing he heard was the faint sound of piano music. He recognized it immediately as “Waltz of the Flowers”; maybe one of the accompanists was practicing?

He couldn’t help the small twinge of disappointment. If there was someone else at the studio, Aelin wouldn’t be here. She liked the place to be completely empty while she danced whatever she needed to dance.

But you’re the exception, aren’t you?

Fighting a smile at the thought, he headed upstairs to the studios. The piano music grew louder as he neared the first studio, but suddenly, it stopped.

Rowan stopped, too.

Then the music began again.

Only a few chords in, and Rowan recognized the music immediately.

Debussy’s “Clair de Lune.”

He had always enjoyed the piece, but whoever was in the studio playing it right now clearly loved it. The notes flowed into and over each other like water, emotion poured into each phrase.

It was the most beautiful rendition he had ever heard.

Quietly, Rowan crept forward so he could see who was sitting at the piano.

And there she was.

He hadn’t told her about the guitar, and she hadn’t told him about the piano.

But there Aelin sat, her head bowed in concentration. Her long, elegant fingers tumbled over the keys, and Rowan seemed to feel each note curling into his chest and warming the winter’s morning chill.

Something lightly landed on his sleeve. He tore his gaze from Aelin to glance down at a small water stain.

His eyes welled, and he tried to bury the feeling back inside, but it was no use. There were no walls to hide behind.

For the first time in two years, Rowan Whitethorn let the tears fall.

----------

“Clair de Lune” had always been one of her favorites. But there was something about today that made it feel especially comforting. Inspiring, even.

Then she realized that she was playing the entire piece with her eyes closed.

She played the last few bars, letting the music curl around her before it disappeared.

She opened her eyes, and when she looked down at the keys, she saw several drops of water.

She lifted a hand to her eyes, and those were indeed her own tears that had fallen.

Whatever just happened, whatever she had just created with nothing more than her fingers and her heart, was exactly what she needed.

She smiled and took a deep, cleansing breath. She stood up from the piano bench and rolled through her feet in their pointe shoes.

Now she was ready to dance.

She went back over to the stereo and picked up her phone where it was plugged in. But before she could press play, a strain of music started up behind her.

It was the opening to “Waltz of the Flowers” . . . but played with a guitar.

A guitar? Who would possibly play guitar around here, much less in the studio on an off morning? What on earth –

Then she turned around.

And the breath left her lungs.

It was him.

He was casually leaning against the wall as he played, a beautiful acoustic guitar in his arms and a tentative, warm smile on his face. Silver lined his eyes – has he been crying?

Aelin felt herself return his smile, dipping her head ever so slightly. Wordlessly, she launched into her Dewdrop choreography as Rowan kept playing.

Soon Rowan joined in, marking through his choreography as best he could while holding a guitar. With his movements, the music came from all around her, and she couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her. With surprise, Rowan joined her laughter as he kept dancing around her with his guitar.

They danced closer and closer, until all too soon, the “Waltz” was over, and Aelin found herself in an arabesque with one arm looped around Rowan’s shoulders, her other arm above her head in fifth.

Rowan’s green eyes were inches from hers.

It was the same feeling she had when they were baking a few days ago, when the distance between them had suddenly become too close for her to breathe.

But today . . . it didn’t feel too close.

As if he knew her thoughts, his gaze flicked to her lips, returning to her eyes so quickly she thought she had imagined it.

Was he . . . would he . . .

Aelin released her position, lifting her arm off of Rowan’s shoulders. “You play guitar,” she said, more of a statement than a question.

He shrugged. “You play piano.” He turned his attention to his guitar, fiddling with the strings. “And you play it beautifully,” he added.

Aelin felt the blush rise to her cheeks. “Well enough to make a grown buzzard cry?” The words were out before she could stop them. But she wanted to know – were those really tears she had seen in his eyes?

Rowan stilled.

She had pushed too far; that was a horribly rude question, especially after he had shown this new side of himself to her. But he looked up from the guitar, his gaze soft, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

He answered.

“Well enough to make a grown buzzard cry for the first time in two years.”

She looked at him for a moment. Really looked. He hasn't cried in two years. “Rowan,” she breathed softly.

He sighed slowly, his content smile lighting up his eyes. “Fireheart.”

Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. She turned quickly to avoid his searching gaze, making her way back to the piano. She sat down again, wracking her brain for something to play, something that she could use to tell him . . .

Well, tell him what, exactly?

She plunked a C on the keys, then an F below it, going back and forth between them. Then it became C, F, D, F, E, F, D, F. If she didn’t know what to play, her fingers certainly did. Because the notes she was playing composed the very recognizable opening to –

“I don’t know you, but I want you all the more for that.”

Rowan was singing. He knew the song, and he was singing.

Without even thinking, Aelin opened her mouth and added a simple harmony, joining her voice with his.

“And words fall through me and always fool me, and I can’t react.”

Rowan lifted his guitar and added his music to hers, along with his voice.

His music was what her music needed.

He was what she needed.

From the moment he had entered her life, he had been exactly what she needed.

But as she kept playing and singing, alternating her gaze between the piano keys and Rowan’s eyes, she wondered if maybe he was becoming not just what she needed, but what she wanted.

Author's Note: Here are some links for the music referenced in this chapter!

"Waltz of the Flowers" on guitar

"Falling Slowly" (I headcanon them both loving this song)

#dreaming on your feet #rowaelin #rowan #aelin #fanfic #sarah j maas #this is what happens when you're a ballet dancer who loves ToG #writer #ballet #alternate universe #au #nutcracker #waltz of the flowers #piano #guitar #falling slowly #fluff #like serious fluff #tooth-rotting fluff

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