Breaking Chains / Johnny Lawrence x Reader

Of Dancing and Running.

1984.

The Encino Oaks Country Club was full of rich, well-dressed, old people. All of them had some alcohol in their hands, talking to each other and wearing fake smiles plastered on their faces. Ali had invited Daniel and you to the event this evening and at first you were really excited about it, wearing a cute black dress and doing your make up and hair. Your mood changed the minute you and Daniel had arrived – you knew nobody there, besides Ali.

Now take a wild fucking guess who was stealing Ali from you for a dance every chance he could get? Right, Daniel. Leaving you bored on the sideline, a glass of cola in your hand. Observing the couples all over the place, you rocked your body lightly from one foot to the other, your heels already making you scream inside. Watching Daniel swing Ali in a circle on the 'dancefloor', both of them laughing like the drunk, old people around them. It's not that you weren't happy for them, but standing there alone like a football-coach left in the rain, wasn't exactly what you had planned for the night.

Suddenly you heard giggling behind you, different voices whispering to each other and sharing a laugh. Voices that you didn't wanted to hear and especially, didn't wanted to see the people they belonged to. A finger poked your shoulderblade, touching your skin directly, because of the cutout from your dress that left your upperback exposed. The cold skin touching yours send a shiver down your spine and you swung around to meet the blue eyes of the man that you hated with a passion. The man that looked surprisingly handsome in his black suit, with a red tie around his neck. He wore a warm smile on his face that turned malicous in mere seconds. Johnny's tall body seemed to tower over you, even though you wore heels. His blonde hair was styled neatly and it looked like he got a haircut only for this evening – maybe his mum made him get one. You tried to distract yourself from his good looks but then, because he stood only centimeters away from you, the smell of his perfume hit you and dear god – he smelt like summer-rain and sandalwood. Shit, shit, shit.

'What are you doing here, Little LaRusso? All alone?' His grin grew even wider, looking like a villain from a horror-movie. A goodlooking villain though.
Without answering him, you turned your attention to the loud giggling behind him. Tommy was nearly falling from the chair he sat on after listening to something that Jimmy had whispered in his ear, while looking at you. Bobby sat right beside him, greeting you with a smile and a small wave of his hand. All of them wore suits, a beer in front of on their table. Sighing, you turned back to Johnny, taking a step back in the process.

'I am not alone, Goldilocks. I am here with my brother .. and Ali.' Crossing your arms over your chest, you tried to gain back some confidence. Hearing Ali's name it was now his turn to look over your shoulder, witnessing the young 'couple' on the dancefloor having the time of their life. His eyes lingered on them for a second and you couldn't make out if he was angry or sad seeing them.

Snapping his head back to you, he said with a little laugh: 'Well, looks like they're good on their own. Being a thirdwheel doesn't suit you, you know?' He bend down to you, his face now being on the same level as yours, you could feel his breathing on your skin. You expected to smell alcohol on his breath, but instead it was like he just jugged a bottle of mints. 'I am not the thirdwheel. But thanks for your concern, jerk. Now, if you excuse me, the buffet is awaiting me.' Taking an overdramatized bow, you took a turn on your heels, trying to get away from them as fast as possible. Also you were really hungry and the food was yelling your name from across the room. All of the pastries and the potatoes and the –

His stupid, big hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back strongly. Stumbling across your own feet, you felt yourself fall over, already thinking about what to tell the paramedics when you're lying knocked out on the ground between lots of drunk, rich people you didn't know. Instead, Johnny slid his other arm around your waist, pressing you against his body in one swift motion. Your chest on his, his hand on the exposed skin of your back, your arm swung around his neck in a devastated attempt to support yourself from meeting the ground. With ragged breathing you tried to regain your bodytension, standing up straight – if only he let you.