work that dance floor


“Rocket” by Beyonce | Choreography by Yanis Marshall

at Broadway Dance Center in NYC

The Glass Slipper

Jughead x Reader

Request: My passion is dancing and I was wondering if there was any possibility of a fic where Jug sees reader dance (as in dance class or something, and I don’t mean ballet, maybe contemporary or modern dancing) for the first time and falls in love with her all over again, like maybe realizes his feelings.

Warnings: like one swear word

Word Count: 1,238

A/N: This is my first non song-based fic, so I hope it’s okay! I also wrote it in one go without editing too much, so that’s why it might be a bit shorter than some of my others.

Your life had revolved around mirrors and wooden floors and worn out dance shoes. You were always busy trying to perfect the next move for contemporary, stretching and watching yourself meticulously. You were your own worst critic, your body always sore.

It was another day of practice, stretching on the floor before working on the dance you were planning on performing for the school variety show. It had to be perfect, as this was the first time you would ever be dancing in front of people from school. It was the first time you would be dancing in front of him.

Jughead Jones.

The boy you had had a crush on since the beginning of high school, the boy that you had somehow befriended and still managed to keep your feelings a secret. You guys were close, sure, but nowhere near as close as him and Betty or even him and Archie. There were some sly glances in the hallway and occasional brush of the shoulder, some inside jokes, but you didn’t know if any of that was considered flirting. Your body did a better job of communicating than your voice ever could.

Early on, you decided the dance would be for Jug, dedicated to him even, but you weren’t going to tell anyone. You were hoping your body could do the talking for you.

You began putting on your shoes in the dance studio at school. It wasn’t much, tucked away in the far corner of the building, mainly for the cheer team and dance team to use, but it was better than nothing. You were here everyday after school, sometimes as late as midnight trying to get something right, and today was no different.

Except you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching.

You continue as normal, though, going over the whole routine about 10 times, each time making mental notes of the things you needed to fix when you did it again.

Finishing your last move you hear a faint clap coming from outside the door. You turn to see none other than the guy you were practicing for.

Your face heats up and you turn off the music, embarrassed that of all people, it had to be him. You can’t help but smile, though, giving a slight curtsey as he nods his head and turns to walk away.

Only then do you begin to panic. How long had he been watching? Did he hear the music? Could he tell you were dancing for him?

It’s hard to read him, what he’s thinking. His hands in his jacket pockets, his beanie placed perfectly on top of his head. He seemed to be the only one in existence to make a beanie look perfect and natural. His hair flowed in perfect curls just peaking out from underneath. His lips turn upward in a small smirk as he kicks one of his feet back and forth. It was little things like this that you noticed all the time.

You take a deep breath. He didn’t seem too interested because he walked away, so you start the music from the beginning and do the routine again, then quickly stashing everything away and going home for the night.

“I was so embarrassed, Ronnie, I bet I looked like a tomato.” you say to Veronica before the variety show about a week later. No matter how hard you had tried, you couldn’t get the moment our of your mind. You haven’t practiced in that room since, nervous that he would be there again. You couldn’t risk it, so you practiced at home in the basement.

“I doubt it, and besides, it’s obvious he’s in love with you.” She states, picking up a piece of your hair to put back for the dance routine.

“No, no way.” you deny, shaking your head, causing Veronica to moan in frustration, “sorry.”

“Just watch, after he sees you tonight, he won’t be able to contain himself. He’s going to ask you out.” she states matter of factly, a smug smile on her face, like she knows something you don’t.

You look around to put your shoes on and you realize that one is missing. It’s not in your dance bag, and it’s not in your purse either.
“What are you looking for?” Ronnie finally asks.

“My dance shoes, I’m missing one, I can’t go on without it.” you start to panic.

“Calm down, I’m sure it’s here somewhere.” Ronnie comforts, beginning to pick up things and look for it as well.

The crowd cheers, only one more performance before yours.

“(Y/N), I think you might have to perform barefoot.” she says, sighing as she realizes that there’s no other shoe there.

You take a deep breath. Maybe this was a sign, that you shouldn’t do this. Then, your resolve hardens.

“The show must go on. I do it with one shoe. It will add to the piece.” you say, convincing yourself more than Ronnie.

The crowd cheers once more. It was for Archie singing on the guitar and unsurprisingly, his song went off without a hitch, just like you all knew it would.

The lights dim on the stage, your cue to enter.

You walk to the center of the stage and strike your beginning pose. The lights come up, the music turns on. You feel the floor beneath your feet and your head in the clouds, and you knew that this was the right choice. This was how this was meant to be performed. Your eyes search the crowd for the familiar beanie, and it only takes about 30 seconds to see him, standing in the center of the crowd, his eyes fixed on you. You let the music flow through you, your body and mind moving as one on the stage. Time flies as the three minute song seems to go by in the blink of an eye, and you’re hitting the ending pose before you know it.

The loudest cheer was his, you could hear it above everyone else’s.

You exit the stage to your friends in the wings, smiling from ear to ear.

“You killed it out there!” Betty said, her smile almost as big as yours.

“You were beautiful.” a voice says.

You all turn to see Jug standing there, awestruck.

“Thanks, Jug.” you say, a small smile forming on your lips.

“Oh, and I think you forgot something.” Jug says, pulling out your other shoe from his bag, “you forgot it last week. I went back every day to try and give it back, but you weren’t there.” he admits, giving you a shy smile.

“I also went back every day to see if you would want to go out on a date?” he asks, hope in his voice.

“Doesn’t the story say that you have to make sure the shoe fits first?” you tease, a small laugh escaping.

Jug doesn’t say a word. He just kneels and slips it over your worn out feet.

“Perfect fit.” he says, standing and looking in your eyes, glancing down towards your lips, leaning closer and closer still.

“Fucking kiss her already.” Ronnie says, growing impatient.

You close the gap, bringing your lips to his. He cups the back of your neck with his firm hands, your body’s pulling closer as if by some force unknown to both of you. 

This was the beginning to your happily ever after. 

Tags: @always-chocolate 

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Rowaelin, Modern AU, But she’s looking at You, Part 1

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Maeve owns the best club in the city, but when Aelin shows up demanding answers from her Aunt, she is forced into one month of working as a DJ in her Aunt’s club in exchange for information. Along the way she meets Rowan and the rest of the cadre, who are working as bartenders in the club… and Rowan is given the task of babysitting Aelin for the month.

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A Lesson in Matchmaking (Part 3)

Steve x Reader

Summary – Natasha is notorious for being a horrible matchmaker. You decide to turn the tables on her, but do you really?

Warnings – None, just pure fluff

Word Count – 1,857

Notes - This was so much fun to write!  I’m kind of sorry to see it end.  I hope you’ve enjoyed the story.  Please feel free to reblog or leave comments, they are always appreciated!

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3


Originally posted by laurenkmyers


“Look at them,” Nat told Bucky, watching Steve spin you around the dance floor.  “This is working out perfectly!”

“I got to admit, Romanoff, you were right.” Bucky conceded.  “They look amazing together, but Steve’s too comfortable around her.  He still sees her as a friend.  We need to figure out how to make him see her as more.”

“I’ll work on that tomorrow,” Nat told him.  “We’ve done what all we can for tonight.  Right now, I just want to dance!”


The four of you were kept pretty busy for the next few weeks with various missions.  This, however, didn’t upset you at all.  It gave you time to observe Bucky and Nat so you could plan your next move with Steve.

It also gave you more time with Steve as well.  You had always enjoyed the company of the two supersoldiers, but you mainly spent your free time with Nat, or with Steve and Bucky together.  You had never spent a lot of one on one time with him, but now that you were, you started to see just how great the guy was.  

“So, have you noticed how Steve and (Y/N) are always sneaking off together?” Bucky asked Nat one afternoon while they were taking a break from the long hike to a secret Hydra facility.

“You think they’re making out in the bushes?” Nat asked with a smile.

“Nope,” Bucky replied with a chuckle.  “I know Steve, if he were skulking off to make out with (Y/N), he’d be so red in the face when he got back, everyone would know what he’d been up to.”

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The night bucky and Steve go to the bar you pull Bucky onto the dance floor, He chuckles at your enthusiasm. You worked with Peggy at the camp as her assistant and had just fallen head over heels for bucky, he’d fallen even further for you. Swinging and swaying on the floor till last call was hollered across the bar, He dipped you gently and pressed a soft but rough kiss to your lips, A long warm kiss that lasted a minute.
You two broke apart and you kissed his cheek gently, He smiled as you did that. 
“When this is all over, We’ll go on a proper date”
“I’d Love that Buck “

Love Song

(Part 2)

As Spencer sits there, staring at his miniature pre-lit Christmas tree, the twinkling lights dancing shadows on the ceiling, he closes his eyes and remembers back to the one girl he tried to woo in high school…

“You’re dress is really pretty,” he says as he shuffles from foot to foot, your ball-gown dancing around as you sway your hips to the music.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you say, blushing as you look down at your feet.

“Would you maybe…um…”

And as he smiles as he opens his eyes, his eyes water with tears as he can remember the way your hand felt in his that first night you dragged him out on to the dance floor.


Walking home from work, in the deep and dark hours of the evening, Spencer steps in a puddle as he tries to scurry across the road.

Crinkling his face as he shakes his leg, his gaze drifts up to the full-moon as he sighs as he recalls the first time he tried to ask you out on a date…

“Spencer!” you yell from the porch as you come bellowing down the stairs.

Your bright summer dress is bellowing in the wind as you run towards him, enveloping him in a hug as he smiles and holds you close.

“I’m so glad your mom could bring you,” you say.  You are the only person that doesn’t tease him for not having taken driver’s ed yet, and as you dash back in to the house to ask your dad for the keys to he van, he scowls at you as he takes a look back at Spencer.

“Who’s that?” he asks, his gruff voice making Spencer hesitant.

“That’s Spencer, daddy.  F-from my school?  I told you he was coming over and that we were going to go get some food.”

“I told you, you can’t date until you’re 18,” he scowls as he turns his back to Spencer.

“Daddy…it’s not a date,” you smile at him.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re naive now, but boys…even boys as scrawny as him…” he says as he looks back again at Spencer, “…they don’t go to eat with you and not expect something.

“But daddy…it’s not a date.  I mean, he’s not paying for me or anything,” you say as your eyes well of with tears.

“You’re not going anywhere with him!” he roars as you stumble back, tears in your eyes as Spencer turns and runs down the street, rounding the corner and not looking back.

Coming back to reality as a horn honks at him, Morgan drives up and unlocks his door.

“Get in, pretty boy,” he says calmly, “Let’s get you home.”


As Spencer lays down in his room, curled up under the covers as he watches the snow fall outside, tears run down onto his pillow as he thinks back to all of his and yours “secret meetings”…

Running up to him and throwing your hands over his eyes, he yelps as he takes them off, smiling at you as he turns around.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming,” he says with sad eyes.

“It took my dad longer than usual to go to sleep,” you say, “I think he might suspect something.”

You had been sneaking out to see Spencer in the middle of the night for 6 weeks now.  It’s how you did your “dates.”  He would bring a little DVD player to watch a movie, or pack a little picnic for you guys to eat, or something he would bring a blanket and the two of you would just watch the stars.

Giggling as it starts to snow, you put your hand on Spencer’s shoulder as he wraps his arm around your waist.

“Dance with me,” you muse, putting your cheek close to his as you sway back and forth underneath the fluttering snowfall.

Spencer was so glad that he had taken driver’s ed and gotten his permit.  It was the only way he was getting to you, and he cherished every moment, in school and out of school, that he got to see you smile.

“Why you stupid, ungrateful-”

Feeling yourself get yanked backwards, Spencer yells as you fall to the snow, your father charging Spencer as he turns and runs towards his mother’s car.

“I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter!” he yells as he chases Spencer.

“Daddy!  Stop!” you cry, getting up and running after him, “I love him!”

As he stops in his tracks, slowly turning around to you as his maniacal stare grows wild, you yell at Spencer to run as he turns, wide-eyed at your statement as your dad starts to run at you.

“Spencer!  Please!” you cry, tears pouring down your face as you turn to run from your father.

All you heard was the squealing of tires as they hydroplaned over the snow, before a metal-crunching crash as Spencer barrels his mother’s car in to a tree.

Shaking underneath the covers as he pulls them over his head, your words echo in Spencer’s mind as he closes his tear-filled eyes, sniffling raggedly as he falls off to sleep:

“I love him…”

Spencer hated Christmas.


Hearing his phone go off at 3 in the morning, he groans as he picks it up.

“Reid.  We need you down at headquarters.”

“Alright,” he groans as he sits up, yawning as he swings his feet over the bed.

“There’s a girl here, and she says she’ll only talk to you,” Hotch says.

Furrowing his brow as he shuffles in to his bathroom, Spencer says, “Give me 10 minutes.”

As he splashes water in his face and pulls on his clothes, he grabs his messenger bag as his coffee pot stops percolating.

Pouring the black substance over half a cup of sugar, he swirls it around as he locks the door behind him, barreling down the steps and running towards the subway.

He knew it was a long-shot, but during these moments he never did give up hope that you would turn up somewhere.


“There you are,” Morgan says as he watches Spencer enter the room, “There was a distress call from a home a couple of city’s away.  A domestic situation between a father and his daughter.  She’s pretty beat up, and we have him in cuffs in a room down the hall…but she insisted that she talk to only you.

Sucking in a bout of air as he drops his coffee to the floor, he yanks his messenger bag off of his shoulders and slings it to the side as he barrels down the hallway, stopping just short of the first interrogation room.

“This is where the father is,” Hotch says as he walks up behind him.

Taking a deep breath as he grasps the doorknob with a shaking hand, he throws the door open as he comes eye to eye with the man that had taken you from him oh so long ago.

As the two of you lock eyes, recognition slowly registering on his face, he rolls his eyes and starts to laugh.

“Welp, guess I’m screwed,” he says as his hands try to yank up from the table they are chained to.

Slowly walking over and sitting down in the chair across from him, he leans in slowly, his arms resting on the table, as he says, “I never stopped thinking about your daughter…what happened that night you found us dancing in the snow.”

“Oh, what a romantic,” he says sarcastically as he rolls his eyes.

“You beat her, didn’t you?  That night,” he asks.

“What does it matter now?” he says, shrugging, “I have now.”

As anger and rage boil his blood, he looks back at the two-way mirror before getting up from his seat.

“Hey, where you goin’!?” the guy growls.

“You just admitted to beating your daughter.  Now, I’m going to go find her, and you are going to jail.”

And as the father yells as Spencer turns his back to him, he shuts the door and turns down the hallway, he legs carrying him as fast as he can go towards the holding room for victims.


Looking through the glass at you, your short Y/C/H hair tucked neatly behind your ear, your high-waisted pleated skirt hitting you just below your knees, he took you in before taking in a ragged breath as he opens the door.

“Y/N…?” he chokes out.

Watching as your back stiffens, he hears you take a deep breath before turning around, revealing the stint over your broken nose, the bruising under your eyes, and the strangulation marks around your throat.

“Oh, my god…” you breathe, tears cascading down your face as you take a step towards him.

“T-they…they actually called you?” you stammer, your head cocking as your brow furrows.

As he walks slowly towards you, holding out his hand as he light fingers the bruising on your arms, your jaw trembles as you feel him wrap those oh so familiar arms around your waist.

“Y/N…” he whispers into the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out.

As he pulls you back, his eyes prodding and searching yours, his voice gets stern as his jaw sets itself.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says.

“I wasn’t strong enough to fight for you…” you sob.

“Y/N,” he says as he tilts your head upwards, “I-”

At a loss for what to say, the tears streaming down both of your faces, the entire team looks on as the watch the spectacle unfold before them.

“I’ve never danced, or driven, for that matter, since that night,” he says, a crooked smile gracing his cheek.

Searching his eyes as you bring your hands to his face, you cup his cheeks as he closes his eyes, the tears running down your hands as you bring your lips closer and closer to his.

Stopping just short of a kiss, Spencer opens his eyes as he catches your gaze.

“I never stopped loving you,” you whisper against lips.

And as Spencer envelops your lips in a graceful, passionate, wanting kiss, he pulls you close to his frame by your waist, being careful not to touch your nose as he cocks his head to the side, his tongue probing your mouth as you continue to murmur “I love you”‘s into his kiss.

Finally coming up for air, Spencer pulls you of of your feet into a gigantic embrace, twirling you around as he sets you back down on the ground.

“Let’s go get your stuff from your house,” he says, a smile crossing his face, “I can clear out a portion of my closet for you, and you can stay with me until you can get on your feet.”

“Spencer, I-”

As you feel his fingers on your lips, his eyes pleading with you to stop, he slowly removes them as he swipes his thumb slowly against your cheek, removing the dried tear trails as he smiles wearily.

“You don’t have to run anymore,” he says, barely above a whisper, “Let’s finally get the Christmas we deserve.”

And as you turn your body out towards the window, watching the snow fall as he presses his chest flush against your back, you lean up as he plants another kiss on yourcheek.

“Only if you dance with me in the snow,” you smile.

Maddox rarely went to the gay bars. He was still struggling enough with his own identity that he felt weird walking in and out of one anyway, as if everyone was watching in disgust. Not to mention, he didn’t dance and guys loved to try to get him to. But he was in a bad mood and wanted a drink, but didn’t want to deal with desperate drunk girls trying to hit on him, so he ventured into what he thought would be a relatively empty gay club in town. Boy was he mistaken. It wasn’t packed, but there were definitely more people there than he had intended on their being. Working his way through the dance floor, keeping his head down as much as possible, he made it to the bar, sitting and ordering whiskey on the rocks, resting his hand on one of his hands, trying to ignore the flirtatious bartender. Finally, he sighed “Listen, sir. I’m not really interested in a boyfriend, I would just like my drink.”

ficlet: cruise (7 - final)


Character(s): Santana L. & Brittany P.

Summary: Brittany works for a cruise line. Santana’s dragged to a lesbian cruise to properly rebound from her latest breakup.

Lots of feelings, and then porn. Santana’s POV. (previous)

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some of my least favorite dm group dance trends
  • maddie is the hero and all the other girls are villains 
  • alternatively, nia is the villain and all the other girls are heroes
  • maddie ends the group dance with a turn sequence 
  • floor work. all the time. 
  • dances based on shows/movies 
  • dances about other ethnicities/races/cultures 
  • kenzie does that one weird acro trick on the side while the other girls do something else (probably floor work)
  • maddie survives some tragic accident while all the other girls “die”
For the Love of a Working Dog

The sun has not dawned, but their feet dance on the floor in eager anticipation. I open one sleep-filled eye and see two bright eyes and an open mouth smiling back. I hear their paws click click in the rhythm of the earth and sun, as I wearily pad to the coffee machine. 

Their paws hit the counter to better see what I’m doing. They smile broadly as they watch my every move. Their tail twitches in anticipation and their eyes twinkle with excitement. They are ready. They were born ready. They are just waiting. 

The coffee machine finishes and I pour my first cup. I pull on my flannel coat that smells of hay and earth, and stumble in my boots. They dance. They are ready. It’s nearly time. We’re almost there. 

I open the door, and they are staring right in my eyes. They are ready. It’s time to go. We’re going to do this together. I smile, and nod, and that’s all they need. They tear out the door. It’s time to work. It’s time to go. 

Bits of grass and dirt fly up behind their paws as they tear across the fields. The day has just begun, it’s been a whole night since they last checked the parameters, and they are eager to make sure everything is still in order. 

The sun sets fire to the sky, and it fuels their soul. They are one with the wind, and it’s their time to soar. 

They make their rounds and come full circle back to me. They stand by my side, pressing against my legs, and when they look up at me, it’s clear they are not yet done. There is much to be done, and we are in this together. 

They live to work. They live to go. Their bones do not tire and their fire does not die. They live every moment with a passion and purpose: to work by my side until the fire carries them to the sun. 

There is little rest, and little peace, with a working dog by your side. But there has never been a more loyal friend, and there has never been a greater gift, than the love of a working dog. And though their time is too short-lived, you will do it over and over again. For the love of a working dog.