Imagines (Justin & 1D ot5) OPEN

Preference~Dancing~(Justin, 3/5)

Dancing

Justin:

The private studio was blaring "Confident" as Justin tried to teach you the dance moves you were obsessed with. He wouldn't let you into any rehearsals or see any rough cuts, so the music video was a complete surprise. Once you saw it, you just needed to be able to jam out to the song with the official dance moves.

"No, like this," he demonstrated it again, slower, and you copied him. "Yes, perfect!"

You smiled wide, looking up at him, like you were a 5 year old.

He pinched your cheeks. "Moving on, aye?"

You focused, trying to get back into the zone. Once Justin started working on the next move, you stole a kiss. "I stole a kiss, whatcha gonna do about it? Nothing because you're a wuss."

He jokingly gasped but smiled deviously. "I might be a wuss, but I'm a wuss that know your most ticklish spot."

Your eyes went wide, and you ran away before he could even chase you, knowing that you were about to be attacked.

Louis:

Just Dance was on the screen, and you were trying to perfect this one dance you had been working on for a long time.

"Y/N! I'm hungry!"

"Lou! Make your own food! Not that hard!"

"But the way you make a sandwich, it's irreciprocal."

"No, it's really not."

He stepped in front of you.

"Lou, I'm really trying to focus."

"Yeah and my stomach is focused on getting some food."

The song ended, and you got one of your lowest scores ever.

"Lou!"

"Is it really that big of a deal?" He asked.

"I was just trying to have fun, but let's go make your dumb sandwich."

"Wait, I just wanted you to end the game, so we could spend some time together. I'm sorry. That was the wrong way to go about it."

"Definitely, but you're forgiven. I think I got some really nice lunch meat the other day."

"Yes, let's go!"

Zayn:

You sat in the middle of the audience, proud as ever. Nothing could capture this moment. Well, the camera in your hand and the camcorder in Zayn's are doing a really good job.

Your daugher, only five, was gracing the stage in the pink tutu she had cried over months ago, but it really felt like yesterday.

You knew you were tearing up, especially when your daughter got her own little solo.

She was so good, like exceptionally good.

The lights rose a bit to notify the audience that it was the end of the performance, and parents went to the stage, hoping to find their children quick and congratulate them.

You on the other hand, pulled Zayn back a bit.

Your little girl stayed on the stage a bit longer than the others, just embracing the moment, not rushing for you or her father.

"She's amazing, a talent," her dance teacher muttered in your ear, before greeting other parents.

You went to congratulate your daughter, her talent and gracefulness still leaving you in awe.

Liam:

Your daughter had been sneaking out of the house lately, and you finally got the courage to follow her.

She walked on foot, and you followed her lead, a few feet behind her.

You had to stay a lot closer than expected because of the vast darkness.

You wanted to see what she was up to, more than ground her. That could come later.

Now is the time to figure out why your daughter is risking her life, creeping and crawling in the night time.

-----

Your mouth hung open. Your daughter was break-dancing against some rival street team. You didn't even know where she got the talent from.

Once her team was done dancing, being the second team, the crowd was asked for its' applause in choosing the winning street team.

Your daughters' team lost.

She hung her head down, but a boy lifted her chin up with one finger like they do in the RomCom movies.

"It's alright, (Y/D/N). You'll get 'em next time," you say.

She whips around to see you behind her. "Mom, I-"

"We should invite your dad next time, so he can see how good you are." You looked at her. "You should've told me. Let's go home."

She said goodbye to her boy thing, and you both went home.