Square Dance - Just Where You Had Started - Strictly NRC Dancing
Author Notes: This is a dual purpose fic. I know I said the Vil dance fic was that last one, but I wasn't happy ending this AU without a conclusion fic. Secondly @pyroxeene, I hope you enjoy this dance fic! I cheated a little and combined square dancing with ceilidh dancing due to some research difficulty. I listed to "Kingdom Dance" from the Tangled OST by Alan Menken and was also heavily inspired by the Tangled dancing scene. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List
Type: Dance AU/ Female Reader/ Fluff/ Romantic
Word Count: 902
It was the final dance for the series of classes that had been held at NRC. A sort of celebration, the headmaster had called it. But it hadn’t been solely his idea. In fact, it had been an idea put forth by Lilia.
The ancient fae had declared that a final dance, performed by the entire school, would serve as a final way of proving what they’d learned and of causing all the students to bond.
Despite some reservations, Lilia was the one who had put forth the idea, so Sebek would follow along. After all, Lilia knew best, and Malleus himself supported the idea.
The heir to the Briar Valley throne had actually quite liked the idea when Lilia had first mentioned it. Citing that it would be a good time to share a more faerie style of dance and for you, the Prefect who’d performed for each class, to simply enjoy themselves for the sake of a dance.
And that's how it had been decided.
The closest thing the staff knew to the dances of the fae were what they called a ‘square dance.’ So that was what everyone learned. And when it came time for the grand performance, lots were drawn to see who the Prefect’s final partner would be.
Sebek had stared at the long straw in his hand in surprise before he looked up to see you smiling at him from where you stood between the two designated callers for the dance. Lilia and Sam.
Malleus himself was the one who cast the spell that gave the magical band life as students formed the interlocking circles of partners.
Your hand slipped snugly into his, and Sebek found himself glancing your way in a surprisingly nervous fashion.
He’d done such dances before, numerous times even, back in the Briar Valley. Lilia had insisted that he and Silver both learn them, as they were supposedly one of the greatest delights of the people who did not live as part of the Briar Valley Court.
According to him, these dances were a way to get daringly close to the object of one’s affections without ever ruining one's propriety. And at the time, Sebek had thought it was ridiculous.
But Sebek found that as the strings of the magic-led band began to fill the air, he no longer found it quite so silly.
In fact, as the music set a speedy tempo and Sam loudly announced the first steps, “Circle left and away we go,” Sebek found that he was oddly pleased that he was the one who got to be your partner.
And so the two of you whirled through the rings of people. Separating and returning to each other as if drawn by some sort of magnetic force, even though in reality you were just following the instructions that were being called out to all of the dancers.
Each time you were apart, Sebek would find his gaze dragging itself back to where you were. Laughing alongside the other dancers, you quite literally kicked your heels up and into the air as you locked arms with Ace so you could get spun into your next position.
There was a frenzied joy that seemed to fill the previously moody crowd as everyone spun through circles within circles of other dancers. Humans, fae, and beastmen alike were all laughing as they clapped along to the beat of the song and spun together.
Steps were missed, and the performance was anything but perfectly executed, but no one cared. It was as if, in this singular moment, all that mattered was the joy of being alive and with others.
People had long since forgotten who their original partner was and now whirled about with whomever they found themselves paired with. You and Sebek had nearly met back up numerous times to rejoin as partners again, but each time you were caught hold of by someone else and pulled away.
But the dance was still, somehow not chaotic.
By now, even the staff members and callers of the dance were laughing. What had been a carefully orchestrated showing of what the student body had learned throughout their classes had become a joyful celebration of some unknown feeling.
Students followed the steps they’d learned during the square dance classes and followed the calls that Lilia gave as he took over for the amused but lost-looking Sam. This was no longer the square dance that the humans had described. This was a dance of the faeries, where one only followed the feelings in their heart and the beat of the music.
And through it all, Sebek still found himself seeking you out amid the laughter-filled throng of people. And there you were, spinning and laughing with your arms locked with Malleus’s until you spun away. Reentering the inner circle to dance on your own until you carefully made your way back out, ready to meet up with a new partner.
And it was there that Sebek finally caught you, half-breathless, as your hands found his, and you stopped as both the music and the performance abruptly ended.
You laughed, half out of breath, as you looked at him with sparkling eyes, and Sebek understood what Lilia had meant by the dance strengthening the bond between fae and humans, just as he now knew why such a dance was popular with couples.
Because even though the performance was over, you had miraculously, or perhaps inevitably, ended up back in Sebek’s hold. Just where you’d started.
Jitterbug - Only Go Up From Here - Strictly NRC Dancing
Author Notes: Here it is! The last fic for this AU/series. I'm actually kind of glad to be reaching the end. These dance fics have been fun to write, but I'm looking forward to getting back to my usual fics. As for the dance in this fic, I don't actually have a particular performance that I was heavily inspired by for this one. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List.
Type: Dance AU/ Female Reader/ Fluff/ Can be taken as romantic or platonic
Word Count: 903
The jitterbug dance was, as Vil understood it, an amalgamation of all of the various swing dances. As such, anyone who had already taken and failed a swing dancing class previously was taking the jitterbug class in hopes of at long last passing this final dance class that was being offered.
The jitterbug’s nature as being the most general of all swing dances was also why Vil had chosen it for his class.
Because while Vil had danced before in various films, it was always some sort of slinky dance befitting a villain. The jitterbug was, as all styles of swing were, a dance for a lead role simply because it was fun, free, and most certainly not suited for someone in the role of an antagonist.
And then there was you, the perfect fit for a lead female in any film. Wreathed in smiles, ever willing to help, even if at times grudgingly, and seemingly fearless when it came to saving others from themselves in even the most risky of situations.
Vil couldn’t have hoped for a better partner.
What was unfortunate was that you seemed surprised that Vil was perfectly capable of letting loose and enjoying himself.
He supposed he couldn’t blame you. He was usually serious because he had to be. After all, the eyes of the world seemed to be constantly on him. Such was the life of a celebrity.
But here at NRC, he was no longer quite so special and was allowed certain freedoms since paparazzi weren’t constantly lurking around some corner. And one such freedom was getting to behave more like a normal teenage boy who wasn’t constantly under the harsh glare of the limelight.
But you were incredibly accepting of both that and him. While you had briefly hesitated at first, it hadn’t taken you very long at all to relax around him, just as you always did. Unconcerned as you danced alongside him, laughing all the while as you glanced his way with glittering eyes that showed your enjoyment.
Crewel had obviously wasted no effort in teaching you. You’d already learned all the other forms of swing dancing and passed all of the previous classes. Not even Sam could say anything against your performances of his beloved style of dance.
Vil had no concerns about whether you would do well in this, the final dance class NRC would hold. If something went wrong during the performance, it was going to be on Vil.
Not that he was concerned.
There was a certain freeness to the jitterbug that Vil discovered he’d been craving. He hadn’t noticed it during the lessons when he’d been dancing with other partners. In fact, it hadn’t been until he’d practiced choreography with you that Vil realized that this uninhibited joy was something he wanted. Something he’d been searching for in his own way.
And during the performance, he found it again. That strange, free sense of joy that stemmed either from dancing the jitterbug or from dancing with you.
Vil did wonder if that joy was present simply because you let go of any expectations you held towards him and allowed him to exist, dance, and laugh alongside you.
You whirled across the floor, fully trusting him to execute any lift, spin, and even do an around-the-world flip that hadn’t been entirely planned.
The improvisation angle was brilliant to him and felt like ad-libbing except for the raw amount of trust it required you to place in him. When you finally touched back down, ending the dance with your feet hitting the ground as you laughed breathlessly at him, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face.
You were grinning as well, still slightly out of breath, as you brushed a few escaped hairs out of his face before unconcernedly taking his hand and leading him across the dance floor towards where the so-called ‘judges’ sat.
And it was so like you to not be worried about what being by his side might mean. But then Vil supposed that to you he wasn’t a famous celebrity first and foremost. No, to you, he was always Vil first.
“That was amazing! The jitterbug is a slightly less codified dance than the others we’ve had as classes, and you still managed to execute it smoothly and with incredible precision. I expected nothing less from a professional such as yourself, Mr. Schoenheit, but I am still impressed.”
Crowley was practically beaming at him, but as soon as he spoke, Vil could already feel the glow of the spotlight returning to him. Reminding him that while you had provided him a brief respite from the limelight, it was going to return.
And he accepted it. He’d chosen and fought for this life after all. Being famous was what it took to reach the heights he sought, so he accepted it all.
But he couldn’t deny that the little breaks you seemed so innately capable of providing him had become beyond precious to him. Sometimes it was nice to just be Vil.
Not Vil the actor. Not Vil the model. Not even Vil the singer.
Just… Vil. The young man who’d just danced out there with you and earned his passing score on his own efforts even though he had nothing to prove to you. After all, you’d seen him at his worst and accepted him.
Foxtrot - Positively Reeked of Class - Strictly NRC Dance
Author Notes: The foxtrot was an interesting dance to learn/watch for this fic. I ended up basing the performance in this fic off of Caitlynn and Tadd’s Foxtrot to “Top Hat” by Ella Fitzgerald on Season 8 of So You Think You Can Dance which I highly recommend you watch, by the way. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List.
Type: Dance Au/ Fluff/ Female reader/ Platonic
Word Count: 814
By now, dancing with Crewel was easy. He’d been my teacher for the majority of the dances that I’d learned, which meant there was little to no awkwardness between the two of us. In fact, I’d been surprised when Trein had been the one to teach me the foxtrot rather than my usual instructor.
Nonetheless, I’d learned the dance well and had figured out fairly quickly that Trein being my teacher instead of Crewel meant one thing. I was going to perform my graded dance with my alchemy professor.
What I hadn’t expected was for Crewel to have also choreographed the dance. Though, after some thought, it wasn’t surprising considering that Crewel and Trein butted heads when it came to the foxtrot.
There were actually three forms of the classy dance that brought old Hollywood to mind. The more elegant of the two was the one Trein liked best. Conversely, the more jazzy variation was Crewel’s favorite.
Naturally, we were going to be performing a foxtrot of the type that Crewel preferred. All that really meant was that we weren’t going to be forced to stay in closed hold, and our dance could take up more room and be a little more playful. This did not, however, mean it was easier than the other varieties of foxtrot.
Perhaps the best part about the entire experience was the incredibly fun style of choreography that Crewel had worked out for us. But then he’d been beyond smug when he’d strode into the room where we were to practice for an hour before performance time came, “Pup! I assume Trein taught you more than just that boring style he likes so well?”
The grin on his face already had me smiling in return as I dutifully responded, “He taught me all three variations just in case. Though I can confirm we spent the most time on the slower style he prefers.”
Crewel snorted at me but nodded, unsurprised by my words, “Figures. You and I will be doing what you may think of as the more jazzy of the foxtrot styles. Simply put, we won’t have to stay in hold and will be able to have more freedom.”
And just like that, we’d swept into choreography with an ease befitting two people who’d already danced several times together.
By the time the lights were clicked on for our performance to start, I was almost giddy. Despite myself, I was strangely looking forward to this dance. I never would have expected it, but I’d become quite close to Crewel over these dance classes, and now that we were almost at the end of the classes, I was relaxing into dancing more and more.
Jazzy brass filled the room, and I swept across the floor, meeting Crewel in the middle and allowing my outstretched arms to do a lot of the work for me. Foxtrots like this one were, oftentimes, even more of a performance than other dances. They were playful and lighthearted. At odds, with the more romantic, slower variations of the exact same dance.
The dance’s classy nature perfectly matched the alchemy teacher, who, despite being quite fearsome in class, was also incredibly lively. I suppose that only made sense for someone who was good friends with someone like Sam.
The entire performance it felt oddly more like I was gliding across the polished floor rather than taking precise steps. And there was the interesting element of the foxtrot of occasionally dancing at a fairly slow pace before suddenly speeding up one's motions.
We were both smiling the entire time. Even as Crewel stopped and proceeded to catch me mid-hop and lift me up onto his shoulder so that I was practically laying across his arm and being spun freely in a circle, with only his hand gripping my side to keep me up.
It was a move that I wasn’t entirely sure I would have trusted anyone else to do. But with the number of times I danced with him now, the trust came naturally.
I touched down as the music began to trail off, spinning gracefully around him as his arm caught me and easily leaned me back into a dip just in time to end the entire dance.
I was still smiling as he pulled me back upright, patting me on the back, before we both turned towards the judges panel, where Sam was already standing and leading the applause with a wide smile
“Well, that positively reeked of class, Divus,” Sam was still chuckling by the time we reached the table, and Crewel separated from me to take his seat with an all too smug grin.
Trein was sighing slightly, but he looked towards me with a smile, “I do believe that I can easily say we are all of the same opinion. You did very well. Congratulations on passing another class, Y/n.”
Author's Notes: I watched so many Argentine tango videos for this fic. With that said, though, this fic's performance was heavily inspired by Lauren and Pasha’s Argentine Tango to “Oblivion” on So You Think You Can Dance. I also made use of my mom's spoof theory that Crewel is Deuce’s dad. Finally, I listened to “Oblivion” by Astor Piazzolla, which is the same song that the two dancers danced to on So You Think You Can Dance. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing Master-List.
Type: Dance AU/ female reader/ fluff/ can be taken as romantic or platonic
Word Count 1844
The Argentine tango was one of the more intense and sensual dances to be taught during these classes.
I’d already danced the ballroom tango with Leona and it was both intense and incredibly passionate. The same could be said for the Argentine variety of the tango, but there was an altogether different feeling to this dance.
The Argentine tango seemed moodier than the more rule-oriented ballroom tango. Crewel had described it as a melancholic but intense dance during our lessons. And that was a description that I’d found I could agree with.
The majority of the dance involved the partners remaining pressed together and, unlike the ballroom tango, the Argentine tango allowed for lifts. It was still sultry but there was, in some ways, less aggression and more intimacy to this particular type of tango.
And that was why the fact that I was dancing with Deuce was concerning. Because while I adored the boy, sultry was not how I would describe my first year partner. And Deuce understood my concerns perfectly. But he’d also explained why he wanted to take the Argentine tango as his chosen dance class.
Apparently, it was his mom’s favorite dance.
Deuce didn’t know who his father was, but Miss Spade apparently recalled dancing it with him when she was younger. Ever since then, the dance had held a special place in her heart and Deuce, ever wanting to make his mom proud, was determined to not only learn this dance, but to execute it perfectly.
He even went so far as to even get extra lessons from Crewel and to study it on his own. If nothing else, Deuce had put far more time into his practice than anyone else in this class.
And his practice paid off. When it came time for choreography practice Crewel had tilted his head, smiling slightly as he spoke, “I normally wouldn’t recommend this, since it requires extreme preciseness, but if you two can do it will give you far more points than a normal Argentine tango.”
He paused and I looked towards Deuce who, after a brief moment, nodded with that oh-so-common gleam of determination in his eyes that was usually received for classwork rather than something like dancing
Crewel had given Deuce a pointed look before smiling again and gesturing for the two of us to enter hold. “I used to dance this sort of Argentine tango with a young woman some time ago…”
He’d trailed off, something flickering in his silvery eyes before he once again turned his attention back to us, “You two are going to do a slower, more melancholy Argentine tango. The lifts will be held for a longer period of time and are thus more difficult, but you are a strong boy.”
He’d instructed us slightly further, watching as we practiced and offering small tips, “Instead of putting her down immediately hold her there for just a bit. It will tie you better to the music since the song lags a bit there.”
We’d incorporated every piece of advice and soon it was time for the class’s performances to begin. Crewel had given us one final nod, “The rest is up to you pups. Give it your best.”
We were the final performance of the class, but with the solemn, slower Argentine tango we were going to be doing, we would stand out from the crowd.
While the other dances had been intense and rather heated, with incredibly fast footwork or holds that only lasted for a few brief seconds, ours was going to be different.
We would have lengthy holds and would remain tied to our more somber music. There was a sadness and intense longing to our dance’s choreography and, just as Crewel had said, we had to be incredibly precise.
Since each step was slower, each hold and lift would be longer. Almost every position and angle would be easier to analyze for the judges which meant everything had to be just perfect.
I met Deuce’s gaze, noting his nervousness as we waited for the music to start and the lights to dim, “Hey, are you going to be alright?”
Bright, blue-green eyes met mine and he nodded, that determined gleam in his eyes bringing a fond smile to my face. At the very least I knew he was going to give this his best.
“Cater agreed to film us for my mom and I want to make her proud so….. Yeah, I’m going to be fine and give the judges the best tango they’ve seen today. I’ve just got to get going and not think too much.”
I laughed quietly at his nervous determination but nodded as I squeezed his hand reassuringly, “Alright then, let’s give it our best Deuce.”
He nodded, carefully squeezing my hand in return but staying silent as he inhaled deeply. His nerves were at odds with the fact that I was surprisingly relaxed even as I leaned against him to enter our starting pose for the dance.
The melancholy tune was only just beginning to filter into the room, signaling the start of our performance as I realized a very simple truth. I trusted Deuce implicity.
The lights all went off , save for one which spotlighted us, and we slowly began to move.
We both already knew that every motion had to be elegant and graceful while also being filled with a sort of heartbroken longing. Instead of letting the music guide us, we had to embody the beauty and ineffable sorrow portrayed by the tune.
So we did. Moving across the floor with a trained grace that, had I not already practiced with the young man, would’ve startled me.
I could hardly imagine the amount of time Deuce must have put into his practice. I’d feared for his ability to pass this course, what with the difficulty of the dance and the incredibly intimate hold, but I should've known better.
Even if Deuce wasn’t the fastest to pick up on lessons, he was more determined than most and he’d surprised me before.
It was strange to realize how much faith I placed in Deuce, but then I supposed that it also made sense. I’d gone through overblots and all sorts of disasters with him, Ace, and Grim. By now trust was natural, even when he was holding me aloft in an incredibly difficult hold before setting me back down with an impressive level of gentleness.
But that was something I knew that Crewel had really drilled into his head. The importance of handling his partner with exceeding amounts of care and tenderness. And his carefulness showed in our performance, making it an oddly reverent tango.
And that suited Deuce in a strange sort of way. Because Deuce, despite the way he argued with Ace and his less than favorable background, was uniquely gentle. It was always him that was asking if I was alright if anything went wrong and stepping in if I felt even the slightest bit of discomfort towards a situation.
To be gentle was in his nature, but it was also in his nature to have a certain intensity to him that lent itself well to the tango. In reality, that intensity came from how determined he was to succeed and how hard he’d been pushing himself throughout this class. But I knew that for anyone watching, it would like a passion that befit the dance we were performing.
My eyes stayed locked with his much of the time that we spent dancing, only looking away when I was spun to put my back to him. Even as he lifted me with ease by merely my arms to spin as with me still upright and my legs curved carefully to enhance our spiraling motions our eyes stayed locked. Him looking up at me with an expression that spoke of deep understanding and me looking down at him from where he held me up and over his head.
It would have been easy, in many ways, to speak during our performance, but when it came right down there were no words. There was nothing to say to one another as we spun and stepped elegantly around the floor. Only separating for the briefest of moments as I feigned walking away only to be pulled back against him as if he couldn’t bear for the two of us to be apart.
It was a strange experience, to dance in such a fashion with Deuce of all people. Strange enough that I completely lost track of time as I concentrated on our meticulous movements.
It was almost a surprise when I realized that we were nearing the end of our performance as he carefully sat me down from the final lift where I’d been hanging limply high above his head. Supported by one of his hands being placed flat on my back while his other had been wrapped around my calf.
As the song ended with trembling notes from the strings, he pulled me across the floor and I leaned both towards and against him with my arms wrapped around his neck and my hands pressed to the back of his head. There were mere inches between us and yet he swung me over across and in front of him before I draped myself backwards into a languid dip where I hung in his arms.
The ease with which he had moved me spoke of incredible strength.
Strength that he’d exerted careful control and restraint over throughout our performance. Strength that made me feel a sort of poignant vulnerability as I hung almost limply from his embrace.
The song trailed off and the room fell both dark and silent. For a brief moment it seemed that there was little else in the world but us. It was a feeling of gentle oblivion. And then the student body erupted in cheers.
Deuce lifted his head from its mournful position on my chest with a wide smile as he pulled me back upright with an ease that had me yet again questioning if I was sure his signature spell really was Bet the Limit and not some sort of super strength endowment.
He received a passing score. Full marks for the most touching and heartbreaking Argentine tango they’d ever seen. Crewel himself had delivered the score, wearing a proud smile not unlike that of a father’s as he’d spoken.
But the real payoff came weeks later when Deuce was called by his mother who’d received the video. She was beyond overjoyed and had apparently told the rather flustered first year that it reminded her of how she’d danced with his mysterious father.
Ace was, of course, beyond insulted that while he had flubbed numerous classes and only just passed, Deuce had passed his first class with supposed ease.
It seemed that only me, Crewel, and Miss Spade knew exactly how much effort the young man had put in. And I could not have been more proud or amazed at the talent and determination Deuce had shown.
Rumba - That Unfamiliar Side - Strictly NRC Dancing
Author Notes: I'm posting early because I don't trust myself to remember to do so later. Today has been a little busy. But anyway, this fic was nerve-wracking because it is always nerve-wracking to write this character. I really want to do him justice but that is easier said than done. The dance in this fic was heavily inspired by Courtney and Gev’s Rumba to “Wishing on a Star” by Rose Royce from Season 4 of So You Think You Can Dance. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List
Type: Dance AU/fluff/kind of romantic/female reader
Word count: 1419 words
We genuinely seemed to be unable to get out of the Latin/rhythm dances since we were doing the second one in a row for this class. But this one was, according to both Trein and Crewel, different from the others. It wasn’t as aggressive, fast-paced, or energetic as the samba or the paso doble.
No, this one was a slower, slinkier dance that was sometimes referred to as the Dance of Love. This time, I was dancing the rumba.
A dance that required a heavy amount of intimate, non-verbal communication between partners. The results could be both beautiful and steamy depending on who performed it. But my first partner of the day was Floyd, so steamy was definitely not to be expected.
Not that Floyd was a bad partner. In fact, he already knew how to perform several different dances and, according to him, swing was best.
I wasn’t surprised by that statement though, since this wasn’t the first time I’d danced with Floyd. There had been numerous times when I would enter the Monstro Lounge and be swept into some sort of dance. Be it swing, disco, or something else entirely.
Floyd was definitely well-versed in dancing, and I could not deny that the rather chaotic young man was also elegant in his own strange sort of way. Though he didn’t necessarily show it through his everyday motions like his twin, Floyd did have a certain innate grace, which often came out to play at the strangest of times.
My only concern was whether or not he would get bored and ditch part of the way through the performance. After all, since the rumba was a slow dance, even with Floyd’s innate love for dancing, he could grow bored. But choreography practice had wiped that fear from my mind.
During practice, it quickly became evident that Floyd was not going to abandon our performance. If only for the choreography Crewel had devised for us, with Floyd allowed to make his own contributions.
So I was, if anything, excited when it came time to perform.
The room was dark as the music started, and I sat on Floyd’s shoulder with one arm outstretched towards the ceiling and the sky beyond it. I smiled to myself as I recalled Floyd’s earlier teasing about whether or not I was afraid of heights.
I couldn’t deny that this was indeed incredibly high in the air considering I was just sitting on a man’s shoulder. But then Floyd was incredibly tall. Either way, I wouldn’t be up here for long.
I leaned back with my arms reaching back over my head as I arched my back and began to slowly slide back and over Floyd’s shoulder as I grasped his leg. His arm wrapped around me, supporting me as he helped me along and down to the floor, where I was then lying on my back, looking up at the young man who now towered over me.
I held his gaze as he leaned over, a slight grin appearing on his face as he reached down and pulled me back up to my feet like I weighed absolutely nothing. I smiled back briefly, but we didn’t stay still long before we started across the floor.
My hand was still in his as I sashayed along the floor, exchanging glances with the young man as I followed his lead.
He pulled me along in front of him, and I twisted, almost like I was trying to keep him in my field of vision, only for him to rapidly twirl me. But such rapid motions were a big part of what made the rumba such an interesting dance.
While it was a mostly slow dance, it was interspersed with sudden rapid motions that, if done incorrectly, made for a jarring effect. But, when they were done correctly, they created interest and a sense of intensity that was found in many of the Latin/rhythm dances.
But that rapid pacing didn’t last long as we slinked across the floor with our hands interlocked but our bodies a fairly wide distance apart. Then I spun once more, put my back to Floyd, and leaned against him. Allowing him to lean backwards with me before I knelt in a low spin and was pulled back up into a dip in yet another surprisingly fast transition of positions.
That didn’t last long either though, since I was soon back upright and entering a closed hold for the briefest of moments. I let my gaze flick up and meet his just before we separated and I danced across the floor and away from him.
The song built as I rejoined him though, twirling across the floor and kneeling as he grasped my arms and spun freely with me in a low hold.
It was then that the song truly began to pick up in tempo as we raced towards the climax of both the dance and the song. I leaned back, relying wholly on him to support me as we spun, before I straightened and locked my arms around his neck in a close embrace while he pulled me backwards across the dancefloor.
It was here that we stayed our closest. In a dance where we had been largely separate, our bodies were now plastered together and our breaths mingled in the minimal space that was between us as we moved our hips in the manner that rumba was so well known for.
Those figure eight patterns that added the sensuality to our dance as we both dipped closer to the ground.
But then the song relaxed once more and I spun out before Floyd whipped me back around. My leg wrapped around his waist as my arms wrapped, almost instinctively, back around his neck.
We stared at each other for a beat and I realized that this was a Floyd I was less experienced with. This one retained a certain seriousness even as his mismatched eyes sparkled at me.
And then that brief moment of realization came to an end as he slowly, and with incredible gentleness that I hadn’t known he was capable of, lowered me to the ground with me still looking up at him. He followed me down though, lowering himself into a kneeling position as he looked down at me with an indefinable expression.
The crowd erupted in applause, and I blinked, briefly startled at the sudden, loud noise that surrounded us. But in truth, I had somehow managed to forget about our audience’s presence.
At some point I’d become so totally wrapped up in the dance that it had just been me and that unfamiliar side of Floyd which now disappeared as he tugged me to my feet with a wide grin on his face.
Floyd had, to me, always been a fairly free being who was unpredictable, but ever true to himself. And I suppose in that way he was like the rumba itself. A technically slow dance that would suddenly have a fast motion to accent its overall mood. Ever true to itself and, when executed properly, mesmerizing to see.
As I glanced over at the now grinning merman on legs, who was once more his usual happy self that moved to his own rhythm, I found myself smiling. Who knew Floyd was capable of such delicacy and intentness?
It truly had felt like I was the only thing in his world while we danced. And, embarrassingly enough, I could say the same was true for me. During our performance, it had just been me and Floyd, with nobody else in the world.
I couldn’t deny that, in an odd way, I was still slightly dazed as we received our scores. I didn’t even realize that we’d passed until Floyd had picked me up and was hugging me while he spun, laughing all the while.
Startled laughter bubbled out of me while Trein scolded us both, telling Floyd to put me down so the rest of rumba class could be graded.
There was a pout on Floyd’s face as he complied, mumbling something about how everyone else may as well call it quits since ours was bound to be the best performance of the evening.
But then he glanced my way, a distinct sparkle in his mismatched eyes as he gave me one final squeeze of a hug and wink before releasing me and walking away. Assuring me all the while that he would watch the rest of my performances before he ditched.
Author Notes: This one was interesting to write simply because I don't have very much experience with this character. That said, I based this fic off of the only paso doble performance I've ever truly enjoyed. So the dance in this fic heavily inspired by Derek Hough and Hayley Erbet’s the Emmy winning paso doble to "Uccen" by The Taalbi Brothers on Dancing with the Stars. I edited this fic while listening "Higher" by Michael Buble so that might have bled into the writing too. Just like the rest of this AU/series the reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more this AU/series, the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List.
Type: Dance AU/fluff/you can take it as romantic of platonic/female reader
Word count: 874
The paso doble was, as I now understood it, an incredibly theatrical and dramatic dance. It was largely meant to tell a story, though the exact contents of the story itself depended solely on the two dancers.
As such, it was the perfect match for the over-the-top huntsman known as Rook. I had little to no concerns about having him as my partner since I knew he would strive to do his best as he appreciated all forms of ‘beaute.’
Even then, though, nothing could have prepared me for the raw level of prowess he displayed on the dance floor. Choreography practice had been beyond startling even though I’d thought I’d been braced.
Rook was an amazing and powerful dancer. I had no doubts that his performance would be one of, if not the best, of the day. Especially after Crewel had grinned at us and declared that we could leave the staging of the performance to him.
And yet, as I got ready to head out and wait for Rook to join me on the red-lit floor, I paused. Glancing back at him curiously, a thought hit me, “I’m surprised you opted to learn the paso doble… I figured you would choose a dance that was less aggressive and more elegant.”
He smiled at me, green eyes narrowing slightly as if he were amused by my words, “But isn't this also a graceful dance?”
I frowned at him, but he didn’t give me a chance to respond as he quickly continued, explaining his words, “You, for instance, move as gracefully as any fleet-footed deer running through the woods, enchanting all who see it. Your sweeping yet delicate motions are enough to remind one of a bird. Entrancing to all who witness your dance.”
I stared at him, unsure of how to respond to this profuse amount of what seemed to be praise spilling from his lips. At last a rather unintentionally blunt response came out, “It’s still aggressive, though.”
He laughed quietly, but nodded, “It is. This dance is incredibly aggressive, and that too is beautiful. For what is more beautiful than the struggle to survive? The determination of two equally matched people as they are both in a contest but also working as a unit. Who will come out on top? Who will lose? Who will people remember?”
His eyes were glittering now in a way that reminded me of the fact that one of his favorite hobbies was, indeed, pursuing dangerous prey.
Rook was a kind and surprisingly gentle man who was also incredibly intense when it came to his passions and interests. It was something that made him both admirable and rather worrying at times.
But I didn’t get time to say anything more since it was time for me to head out, soon to be joined by my rather odd partner. But one thing I could say about our conversation was that it had me going into the performance with a completely new view of the paso doble.
The determination of two equally matched people…..
I felt a smile creep onto my face as I began to match Rook’s steps as soon as he joined me. Perhaps this was what a paso doble could be. Less of a fight to the death and more of an evenly matched spar between two people who could both respect one another.
The two of us matched each other's steps perfectly, even as the dance itself seemed to fly by. Even Rook's brief solo flamenco performance took hardly any time. And I was dancing with the hunter yet again, with him tossing me around his body and through the air as if I weighed just as little as a matador’s cape did.
It wasn’t until I was thrown backwards, only being held up by my outstretched arms that were being gripped by the fully upright Rook who looked down at me with glittering eyes, that I realized how heavily I was breathing.
The final beat of the song hit and a spotlight flashed over us, scattering the red lighting that had surrounded us and signaling the end of the dance. But that didn’t mean the room went silent. Instead, we were met with thunderous applause that had me letting out a slightly breathless laugh.
Rook’s chest was heaving just as much as mine was as he tugged me back upright with an ease befitting the strength as a young man who did archery for fun. I came to a stop just short of our noses touching, a grin on my face that matched the wide smile he wore as his gaze met mine, “Merci, mon Trickster.”
I was still breathing heavily as I shook my head, still grinning at him, “No, thank you Rook.”
It seemed that I still had a lot to learn when it came to dancing since Rook’s philosophy certainly had opened my eyes. And perhaps that was why we had just performed the best paso doble of the evening.
And that wasn’t just my ego speaking. I could say that simply as someone who’d danced several paso dobles now. But I could also say that based on the perfect scores that we had received in regards to our performance.
Author Notes: This one was actually quite difficult to write and, to be honest, I'm still not sure if I'm happy with it. To be fair, the paso doble is not on of my favorite dances to watch though it is interesting that it does have the odd storytelling dynamic to it. The ending pose was largely inspired by Cristina and Pasha’s paso doble to "Ira Deodrum" on So You Think You Can Dance season 7. Just like the rest of AU, reader is a female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more of this AU the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List
Type: Dance AU/fluff/female reader/ platonic
Word count: 853
Trigger Warning: Crowley
“So, here’s the deal. We’re not going to tell your partner about the surprise ending to your paso doble.” I stared at Floyd’s back as he led me, ominously enough, into the gymnasium and continued to explain his grand scheme, “His surprised reaction will make your performance all the better, and it’ll be worth a load of points.”
I frowned slightly as he pushed his way through the large doors, casually holding one open for me to pass through, “But I don’t need ‘loads of points.’ I’ve already passed my one required dance class, so my performance will have no bearing on my grade. The only reason I have to do it is because Crowley is a butt.”
Floyd cast a sly grin over his shoulder at me, “Go big or go home, Shrimpy. Besides, don’t you wanna make him look like the loser he is?”
I snorted, but instead of responding, I was now eyeing the mats we were approaching and frowning in confusion.
Seeing the mats in the gym wasn’t surprising; what caught me off guard was the fact that Vil, of all people, was standing there next to them. Floyd had said he was going to get us some assistance, but… Well, I hadn’t expected Vil, of all people, to be who Floyd had in mind.
I leaned towards Floyd slightly, my eyes never leaving the actor/model/vocalist as I spoke in a quiet voice, “Why is Vil here?”
Vil smiled slightly, evidently enough having heard me despite my hushed tone, “To help with acting instruction tater tot. You don’t want to just execute the movements, you want to execute the performance.”
His amethyst eyes glimmered slightly as he spoke, clearly showing his pleasure with the task at hand. But I was fairly certain that no one at this school liked our headmage. So making him look bad was likely something everyone would enjoy.
Vil stepped forward, nodding at Floyd before directing his attention back to me, “I’m sure Professor Crewel explained this while he was teaching you, but a paso doble is a story. The lead plays the role of a matador and typically emerges victorious at the end of the dance. The follower can be in the role of the bull, cape, or even a flamenco dancer. Floyd choreographed the dance so that-”
“You’re the bull, Shrimpy, but you aren’t going to lose. Your partner is.” Vil shot Floyd a distinctly annoyed look that went ignored by the 2nd year.
Floyd himself simply glanced nonchalantly over at Vil, causing me to shift uncomfortably. I couldn’t help but be slightly worried that my choreographer was going to ditch before he finished explaining the ending of the dance he had yet to show me.
But my fears turned out to be untrue as Floyd soon continued, now eyeing Vil as he spoke, “They’ve already gone through the other parts, all that’s left is the surprise ending.” Vil sighed, but gestured for me to come over as Floyd began to explain.
“After he shoves you off his knee and you hit the floor limply, he’ll lean over you right?” I nodded, eyeing Floyd as I joined Vil on the mat.
Floyd flapped his hand, a vague signal to go ahead and lay down in the position I would be in at the end of the dance. “Before the song completely ends, you’re going to flip him over and end the performance sitting on top of him. The Matador is dead, and the bull wins.”
I blinked at him before looking up in confusion at Vil, who knelt with a sigh, “Let me show you…..”
Practice with Vil had been... Interesting. But it had also paid off. Not only was I now prepared for this dance’s surprise ending, but I’d also learned how to flip a fully grown man off of myself should I be pinned to the ground.
The entire room was silent as I slung myself through the dance with all the pent-up aggression I felt towards Crowley, but I couldn’t deny I was looking forward to the climatic ending Floyd had dreamt up. Crowley’s reaction would no doubt be gold.
As instructed, I arched my back over his knee and let him shove me off, rolling pitifully to the ground and away from him before stopping limply. Crowley marched over, seemingly triumphant, with a smirk on his face before hitting the floor and all but planking over me.
This, in and of itself, would have been an odd ending. I realized that now. Why would the matador lean over the supposedly dead bull in such a strange position?
But Crowley didn’t stay there long. Instead, I did as Vil and I rehearsed. My eyes popped open, and I snapped my leg up and over his hip, startling the principal enough that he made a shocked sound.
I rolled, flipping him over and onto his back as the song ended. Him on the ground staring wide-eyed up at me as I looked down at him, momentarily deafened by the cheers of the crowd.
Samba - Going to be a Sensation - Strictly NRC Dancing
Author Notes: This one was actually quite the toughie to write. The samba is fun to watch but not to describe... And, to be fair, I'm also not super confident with writing this character. I quite literally worked on this fic right up to the point of posting. The samba for this fic was greatly inspired by Katee Shean and Joshua Allen’s Samba to “Baila Baila” on the 4th season of So You Think You Can Dance. I really recommend watching their performance on Youtube. It's really good! Just like the rest of this AU, reader is female for this fic. I hope you enjoy!
If you would like to read more of this AU the fics can be found here: Strictly NRC Dancing AU Master-List.
Just like a good number of the other Latin/rhythm dances, the samba was energetic and lively. It was also incredibly flirtatious, which made it a very fun but sometimes embarrassing dance to perform.
Trey, of all people, was not someone I’d expected to choose this class out of all of the ones offered. It all became clear though after I questioned him and found out that he’d waited too long to get into any of the classes for a slower dance and was thus shuttled into the samba course.
Trey didn’t let that hold him back, though. I was told by Vargas that my future partner had excelled in the class and, during choreography, we had performed our dance flawlessly.
Trey being slated for the top spot in this class was definitely not what I had expected from the usually laid-back young man. And yet he impressed me. Easily keeping up easily with the pounding beat and generally cheeky dance that was filled with rolling hip motions, amongst other things.
Also, the fact that he stayed mature and only cracked a few jokes despite the rather shameless nature of the dance made him seem like a gift from the heavens in comparison to some of the other potential partners.
As much as I adored Ace, the idea of dancing something like the samba with him was practically shudder inducing.
I had few to no concerns about Trey passing the class or being a reliable partner. Even Crewel had given him the nod of approval after our choreography.
Which was I didn’t hesitate to kick my leg up on his shoulder as soon as the music began. I tossed myself back into a dip, my leg sliding down and catching on his arm and the cheering was already almost deafening.
But that was to be expected. We were in a school full of teenage boys so samba was, inevitably, going to be a sensation.
I had been prepared for this, but Trey had apparently not been judging from the expression that flashed across his face fairly early in our dance when Cater yelled out, “Yeah! Get it, Trey!”
I got the privilege of watching the usually calm, level-headed young man go from his usual pale skin tone to a very distinct pink shade that was getting steadily darker the longer we performed.
It wasn’t long before motions that had been executed perfectly during practice were being fumbled through as the vice housewarden got steadily more embarrassed.
Of course, the cheering wasn’t helping. What had started as just Cater and Ace cheering while occasionally throwing in a very loud whistle had swelled to include the majority of the people watching cheering and throwing out varying comments.
I squeezed the vice-housewarden’s hand as he tripped slightly, “Trey, it’s okay. Just ignore them and focus on the dance. They’re just teasing you.”
I eyed him worriedly as I tried to reel him back in from the depths of his red-faced embarrassment, but he was too far gone. He couldn’t even manage a response, instead letting out a flustered chuckle.
By this point, what appeared to be the entire student body of the school was loudly cheering for the now flustered Trey. Even Malleus was clapping, though I wasn’t entirely sure it was for the same reasons that Ruggie was letting out a piercing wolf-whistle.
I couldn’t deny that our classmates' behavior and reactions, paired with the dance itself, were rather embarrassing, but I was able to push through and continue dancing while Trey fumbled through.
The very same young man who’d pulled off some incredibly difficult motions with little to no trouble during practice could now barely keep up with the dance. I honestly pitied him.
To his credit, he still managed to pull off the lift and spin at the very end of the dance. His arms wrapped around my back while mine wrapped around his neck and I was lifted off the ground. Spinning freely in the air even though I could quite literally feel the heat coming off his very red face during it.
We managed to fake the spin that he fumbled through after setting me down but executed a decisive dip that had our nose practically touching.
Something that made the whole situation worse since he was forced to hold the pose briefly as it was the final move of the dance.
By the time he had me pulled back upright, quite literally everyone except most of our judges were cheering. Either because they felt he had given his best, such as Riddle and Malleus, or simply due to the nature of the dance, which seemed to be the case for the majority.
The judges, outside of Vargas, looked beyond disappointed, though some were also vaguely amused.
“And you were so close,” Trein shook his head slightly as we stepped in front of their table, trying to ignore the not-so-subtle laughter from the students behind us. “We were sure you were going to be the top Samba student.”
Crowley honestly looked crestfallen and Sam was still chuckling slightly as the still red Trey nodded his head and even managed a smile, “Yeah, I know.”
“And you danced perfectly during choreography practice,”Crewel remarked, his gaze fixed on the steadily quieting students.
Trey stayed silent, and I squeezed his hand slightly. I think both of us knew what grade he was getting before Trein even opened his mouth. “I’m sorry, Mr. Clover. But you failed. Better luck next time.”
Trey accepted his grade with maturity, just as I’d expected from him, even as there were some boos from the crowd who evidently did not agree with our teacher's assessment.
“You’re never gonna live this down,” I said with a sympathetic smile, and he nodded, sighing slightly.
“Yeah… I guess I’d better go face the guys and get the worst of it over.” He offered me a smile before walking over towards where the Heartslabyul dorm sat. Seemingly braced for the teasing that was to come. At least Riddle and Deuce were there, they’d make sure Ace and Cater weren’t too hard on Trey.
