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revalise · 4 years ago

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Afterdate | UshiOi

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Oikawa Tooru

Genre: Fluff, first date

Rating: SFW

Words: 6900+

A/N: This was for UshiOi Week (@ushioiweek2020) but I wasn't able to make the deadline. I wrote Ushijima and Tendou scenes on a writer's block, phew. Thank you to Risa for beta reading this! I owe it all to you!I have quite a number of Haikyuu one-shot ideas, including thrillers and angst, I still need to write. But uni is taking a lot of my time and I haven't fully surpassed my writer's block yet (hence, why I've been posting less and less). If you enjoyed it, don't hesitate to comment. See you on the next! Nevertheless, I hope you love the story as much as I loved writing it!

Masterlist

Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be. Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular

It was a terrible date. Until it wasn’t.

The usually loud metropolis was quiet as a wraith as Tendou and Ushijima waited for the bus home. The kiss of smooth, cold breeze enveloped them both, making Tendou shiver.

Tendou rubbed his hands on his arms as the condensation of his breath blew against the low temperature before whipping his head to the side, only to see Ushijima dart his gaze to the road, patiently waiting. He didn’t care at all about the freezing temperature, standing still as the bus finally arrived, making Tendou frown at their differences.

He would always find himself beside Ushijima as it seemed they always came in a pair. And he knew how different they were. Tendou was the lively one, while Ushijima remained as composed as ever. For a moment, he thought he’d never outdo the captain of the team, but Tendou had a girlfriend waiting for him, waiting for a message regarding his whereabouts.

That alone was enough to make him think he was ahead of the stoic captain. And as a serial dater, Tendou knows how girls turn into something else when their boyfriends don't text back in two minutes.

But when he took out his phone, it was dead.

So the horror that produced sweat on his forehead cascaded down from his neck, even in the temperature, was accompanied by a hammering chest. He knew he needed to shoot his girlfriend a message.

He was left with no choice but to ask Ushijima to borrow his phone. As he fumbled through his friend’s phone after he had no choice, something piqued his interest.

Tendou paid a short glance beside him and his mouth formed a sly smile. The shock mixed with amusement on his face was inexplicable when he saw the Tinder app on his best friend's phone. He covered his mouth to stifle a snort, careful not to wake passengers in their slumber in the back row, late at night from volleyball practice.

Ushijima directed his attention at Tendou, who was looking at him maliciously. The moment his eyes landed on the phone, he understood why.

He tried to hide his surprise, but failed miserably as he quickly tried to retrieve his phone back from Tendou.

Thanks to all the blocking techniques Tendou learned from the team, he held the phone as high as he could out of Ushijima's reach. There was no way Ushijima could retrieve his phone without pushing Tendou over and making a scene since he sat on the window side.

"Hm," Tendou teased. "Since when did you have this?"

"I don't know why it's in there. Give it back," Ushijima argued with a straight face, but the falter in his voice was enough to prove that he was lying. And he wasn't a good liar.

Tendou wiggled his brows, tilting his head. From Tendou's above peripheral, the app successfully loads, and he immediately turns his attention to it, raising it further from Ushijima's grasp.

He pressed on Ushijima's profile. Gods above, did it make him cringe, not to mention the photo Ushijima used for his profile taken about four years ago.

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

"Ugh," Tendou released a sigh. "Have you ever dated anyone from here?"

Ushijima sighed, sitting straight as he set his head down, "No, I don't understand it. I only swiped, and then nothing."

So nobody swiped for him, Tendou thought, feeling both sorry and amused for his friend at the same time. He should change his picture on the app. He looks like an annoying know-it-all, 15 year old. Nobody would go for him.

"Well, that's why you have me," Tendou grinned and head-locked Ushijima. "I'm going to help you get a date!"

The volleyball captain slowly looked up at his friend, "How?"

Tendou only smiled, "Leave it to me."

All Ushijima could ever do was sigh and look over the window as the bus moved further away. He kept his eyes on the bright and warm lights of establishments outside that elongated from the bus’s movement.

He knew that fighting Tendou was futile. In all these years, he had known how the redhead always did whatever he wanted, and how he was good at getting all that. Besides, Ushijima felt too tired to argue anyway.

The continuous clicks of the camera brought his conscience back from almost spacing out. Immediately, he turned his head over to the source beside him to see a smiling Tendou holding his phone as if he’d just come up with something interesting of some sort.

“Did you know it's rude to take photos of somebody without their knowledge?”

The redhead only rolled his eyes with a grin, turning the phone over to Ushijima to show the new profile he’d arranged. "And did you know I only did that as a favor?"

His new bio now read:

Ushijima, 20

Miyagi Region

I must be in a museum because you are a work of art

The four year old photo he once had as his profile picture was now replaced with the one Tendou took.

It was Ushijima's side profile looking outside over the window. The lights of the establishments they passed through created a nostalgic aesthetic along with the slight blurriness of the photo, but never missing his straight, high nose and the sharpness of his jaw. Oh, and that aura of both seriousness and mysteriousness that Tendou knew would catch the attention of anyone who’d look at it.

Ushijima stared at the phone closely, reading the new bio Tendou wrote for him, "That doesn't feel like me at all."

Tendou ignored his friend's remark, giving the phone back to him. "Now try swiping again."

Ushijima took his phone back, observing what buttons to press as he had forgotten how to use the app between the long months since he used it. Finally, the profiles load and he's greeted with a certain boy with light brown hair looking rather cheerful in his picture.

Oikawa, 20

Miyagi Region

If nothing lasts forever, can you be my nothing? ;)

Ushijima scrunched his nose, making Tendou roll his eyes as he grabbed the phone back from him.

“You don’t just stare at it, okay?” He swipes right and a match appears, “See? You swipe and then that will appear if they like you too.”

“Why would they like me if they don’t even know me yet?” the captain asked, tilting his head to the side.

Tendou grimaced, looking a little funny at the innocent question asked of him. “They like your face, okay?” he replied. “Okay?”

Oikawa couldn’t remember how long he’d been talking to the brunette he met on Tinder. Yes, Ushijima was a dry texter, but for some reason, for some reason, he couldn’t stop himself from talking to him. Not even when every topic shifted to thinking if they’d ever had milk from the same cow. Because Ushijima took him to a place where he only knew two things: that he couldn’t stop smiling and couldn’t stop looking forward to all his replies.

The smell of sweat and the sounds of bouncing balls and shoes scraping against the gym floor sang around Oikawa as he made himself comfortably seated all alone on the bench, taking advantage of the fifteen-minute break the coach lent the team.

He laced his phone around his nimble fingers while the other danced around the clean, white towel he used to wipe his forehead before setting it down beside him, placing it along various colored tumblers that belonged to his teammates.

Iwaizumi watched Oikawa from a distance, gulping down on his tumbler, rivulets of water running down from his lips to his Adam's apple, all the way down to his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the flamboyant big shot as he lowered his drink.

He didn’t know why exactly, but there was something different about Oikawa today.

One could say that there was something quite off about the confident captain of the team. Usually, he’d be socializing with the team, or annoying Iwaizumi during breaks, but today he chose to confine himself in the corner, craving what little quiet the noisy gym could offer. Of course, underneath the winks, smiles, exaggerated swagger, and childish antics lies a much more serious persona for when a situation demands it, channeling all that bravado in his pursuit.

But what was so important that could possibly bring Oikawa’s tenacity and attention completely locked on his phone, which he hasn’t put down since the first minute? What could possibly have Oikawa on edge that he couldn’t keep his right heel from lifting and dropping over and over, restlessly?

Oikawa couldn’t stress how long he’d been waiting for Ushijima to ask him out. He wished to have Ushijima beside him, wished he could inhale his scent—and how he probably smelled of dark wood with a hint of vanilla, wished Ushijima’s fingers threaded his hair, and how he wished they were something more.

Truthfully, he couldn’t explain why he’s so intoxicated with the man. He couldn’t determine or distinguish the weight of various reasons why, as if translating them into words would be translating symbols into letters.

Perhaps, the first time Oikawa let himself be swayed by the awkward and dry texter was after he had only slipped into his blanket. Ready to go into a deep slumber after reviewing tapes of his enemy team a day before the match to chalk out strategies, when his phone lit up, the light coming from the screen illuminating a halo around the corner.

From: Ushijima (sent at 9:43pm)

No. You’re the only one I talk to.

His breathing hitched, and he rose as quickly as he laid on the bed. In the small light, his bronze eyes glittered. A corner of his mouth twitched upwards and he wondered, Only me?

Oikawa had teased Ushijima about staying up late to reply to others. Vague, but just the right words to get the exact answer he wanted from the male: if he’d been talking to anyone else other than him. But he found himself kept up by the lingering messages from Ushijima.

A few weeks after that conversation, and at the mention that Ushijima also played volleyball, here he sat anxiously alone on the gym bench, trying the same scheme yet again.

Another word, another hint that he was interested in meeting Ushijima.

To: Ushijima (sent at 4:30pm)

Yeah, volleyball is good! But I miss hanging out sometimes >_<

Oikawa bit his bottom lip, anxiously staring at his phone that had just shifted to a black screen as he waited for a reply. He sighed, dropping his eyelids as he slumped his shoulders back from all the tension he didn’t know had been building up.

His phone pinged, almost sending his body into a full gallop, immediately raising his gaze to the screen. His heart jumped at the sight of the text preview, Do you want to…

This is the moment. He’s finally going to ask me out. Oikawa smiled to himself, regaining his composure as he sat upright. He inhaled slowly, swiping his fingers to unlock the message. Nevermind the smell of sweat. This is the moment.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:32pm)

Do you want to play volleyball?

Oh. The corners of his mouth dropped just as soon as they pulled upward at the reply. His shoulders sagged, setting his head down in disappointment. Oikawa couldn’t quite make it up, but sometimes, Ushijima seemed to be out of place.

Sometimes, he’d read signals as fast as he misinterpreted others.

This is hopeless, Oikawa laughed to himself. The array of possibilities he set for himself and Ushijima smeared like oil in the air, drowning out his suave as he tried to shut them all down. Then he tipped his head back, breathing in deep. Breathing in the disappointment, taking it into his head that Ushijima was most likely not at all interested in that way. Anxiety and embarrassment mingled into his chest.

But his phone pinged another time, and it sent his body into another jolt.

From: Ushijima (sent at 4:33pm)

I mean, do you want to go on a date?

And for a moment, he couldn’t breathe under the crushing weight that pushed in on him.

“Are you going on a date or to a Sunday morning service?” Tendou cackled as he watched Ushijima put on his necktie over his deep violet long sleeves he paired with black slacks, sitting comfortably on the bed.

Ushijima reciprocated Tendou's gaze through the full body mirror, his eyes squinted, fingers securing the knot of his tie, “What's wrong? Isn't this presentable?”

“Formal. Too formal!” he said as he raised his hands up to stress his remark, barely unable to stop the wide, malicious smile.

“Then tell me,” Ushijima sighed in defeat, realizing that his friend might be right. “What should I wear?”

He was so hopeless that Tendou wondered, What would he do without me? What would have become of him if it weren’t for me guiding him in the big world out there?

Tendou could go on and on about teasing Ushijima with the kind of clothing he chose to wear. Who goes to a date wearing a church outfit? But he saw how Ushijima needed genuine help and pushed his remarks to the side, lending his friend a helping hand on his first Tinder date.

Actually, his first date in general.

“You sound like that time when you finally asked your match out on a date,” Tendou chuckled. “Oh, it was thanks to me.”

Ushijima turned to face Tendou, “I thought it was obvious.”

“Obvious?” Tendou’s hand reached for his stomach as he laughed at his best friend’s words. “How is asking someone to play volleyball flirting? How is that considered flirting?”

Thanks to Tendou, Ushijima was able to make a correction. He was fast to take the latter’s phone in his hand and send another reply. The shock that reverberated into Tendou’s body only dispersed once they received an enthusiastic reply. A feeling that Ushijima would never have felt because of his inexperience.

“But I don’t just ask anyone to play volleyball,” Ushijima replied, tone low and neutral, completely clueless. If he was embarrassed, it didn’t show. Rather, his face remained distant as usual.

The red-haired cleared his throat. It was one of those rare moments when he thought he should be honest with Ushijima before he ventured into a world he hadn't stepped into: dating.

“You’re hopeless. But there’s one thing I can tell you,” Tendou clicked his tongue, eyes shifting left and right trying to search for the perfect words.

He weighed in the list of possibilities that could happen to Ushijima and his date. Of course, there was already a high probability that both of them would be as awkward as ever. But Tendou took notice of the amount of emojis Ushijima’s date uses, so he couldn’t be that boring.

Sometimes, there are just people who could make everything boring. Unfortunately, Ushijima was part of that.

Tendou chuckled inwardly at his thoughts.

Ushijima was intimidating, and he doesn’t speak much. But when he does, he can come off as blunt. He was the kind of man who spoke no lies. He didn’t hesitate to speak what’s on his mind. He didn’t have any concerns. Only that he disliked things he didn’t understand.

He had the oozing air of confidence and reliability about him. He was a fantastic player on the court, but he was just a regular person outside of that. And sometimes, Tendou wondered if Ushijima had any fun at all.

His scrutinizing gaze brought Ushijima’s eyes to meet his through the mirror as the lad unbuttoned his shirt to change. “Have fun.”

Oikawa’s blood pumped through him in a strange rhythm. With every step he took, his feet felt heavy, lightweight, soft, and hard all at once, dragging them to move. He was tizzy as he approached the cinema—where he and Ushijima agreed to meet, biting down on his bottom lip.

The man walking in front of him paid him a short glower as if he’d been suspecting Oikawa for his stalking gait. Oikawa reciprocated the man’s hostility with an apologetic smile, halting his steps and embracing the frigid weather around him.

He took in a few deep breaths as he closed his eyes. Then he opened them, and the big ‘CINEMA’ sign glowed red in the light of the dark and the busy streets and youth passing by.

The first snow still hasn’t touched the ground, but it was felt in the frigid cold. He posted himself beside the entrance. He could feel the warm temperature coming from inside the hall whenever the doors opened. There was that burning need to invite himself in, but he stood outside, patiently waiting in the cold.

All around him, there were laughs and smiles from people around his age. Mostly couples, but he spotted friends who came in groups. Some were buying tickets from the booth manned by a straight-faced fellow, who impassively bid goodbye by saying, “Enjoy your movie.”

Some, he guessed, were waiting for someone. The restless tapping of their foot against the ground, the constant checking of time, and the biting of their lips. All of which Oikawa recognized. Because he was doing the same thing.

He raised his left hand, pushing aside his long, blue sweater sleeves to reveal his leather watch, “6:47…” he whispered.

There were still thirteen minutes left to see Ushijima for the first time. Thirteen minutes to hold on to his dear sanity.

He tapped his foot restlessly against the pavement once more, releasing another breath that condensed in the air, making him push his khaki scarf upwards to cover his mouth.

As soon as he raised his gaze towards what’s in front of him, he saw the man he’d been yearning to see. Behind the screen. Behind all those words. Behind all the smiles. And on that cold night, he saw him for the first time.

Oikawa’s eyes widened as he watched Ushijima from only eight feet away.

Ushijima’s body was turned to the side, giving Oikawa only the picture of his long coat, cropped light-colored trousers, and loafers. His side profile boasted that high nose and that brown hair—and Oikawa wondered if it was as smooth as it looked.

It’s literally unfair how attractive he is, Oikawa groaned in his thoughts. He knew how strange it was to look at Ushijima. But he found difficulty in not staring at him. He couldn’t find the courage to tear his gaze away from him. Not when Ushijima had that mesmerizing aura about him.

He was all too aware of how cliche he sounded, and he smiled like a fool when he realized that, maybe, he liked it. And he was still smiling like a fool when Ushijma whipped his head in his direction, locking their gazes.

Ushijima narrowed his eyes, making Oikawa’s smile drop as soon as he realized. But Ushijima was already walking toward him, and Oikawa couldn’t breathe.

“Good evening,” Ushijima greeted as soon as he was in front of Oikawa. If he was nervous, if he was shy, it didn’t show.

Oikawa noted the aura Ushijima emitted. He was, perhaps, more than what he had expected. A little too unreal, maybe. He swallowed, but his throat was too dry. “Hello…”

Ushijima’s lips twitched a little upwards. Even as he smiled, there was still something serious left in the air. “Have you been waiting long?” he checked his watch then returned to the speechless Oikawa.

He’s so pretty. I think I’m gonna faint, Oikawa thought before he realized he was asked a question. He shook his head to disperse himself of unwanted thoughts, creasing his brows as he leaned a little forward. Ushijima’s scented soap caressed his nose, a touch of wood… and is that baby powder? “I’m sorry. What was that?”

“Have you been waiting long?” Ushijima repeated.

“Oh. No,” Oikawa retreated. “No, I haven’t. I just got here,” he chuckled, trying to conceal the awkwardness in his tone. Feeling a little anxious, he asked, “And you?”

“I also just got here,” Ushijima answered dryly. Then his eyes went past Oikawa, and both felt the warm temperature from inside the hall, the noises sounding louder as the door swung open before it shut on its own and the noises died down with it.

Ushijima brought his gaze back to Oikawa, “Would you like to go inside? I’ve got the tickets.”

“Sure…” Oikawa smiled awkwardly.

Ushijima pushed the door open for Oikawa, to which he thanked him for. As soon as Ushijima couldn’t see his face, he closed his eyes in frustration. Say something!

Oikawa found himself speechless around Ushijima. It seemed like all of his confidence had died at the very sight of him. There was something intimidating about Ushijima that he couldn’t quite explain.

Yes, he’d been waiting for this moment for so long. And he hated himself for feeling as if he wasn’t even trying hard to connect with him.

The thundering drum in his heart pulsed through his ears, drowning out the sound of talks and the smell of popcorn invading his nose. He was shifting his weight from one foot to another as they waited in line for the cinema room, pocketing his trembling hands as he started at his feet.

He squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers, then lifted his head as he smiled at the staff that manned the entrance to the cinema room before following Ushijima ahead. His throat was tight in nervousness—a feeling he wasn’t very much familiar with—even as they sat in their seats.

Oikawa shifted his gaze over to Ushijima, and found he kept his eyes on the big screen, the flickering light from the changing scenes illuminated the planes of his face. He could watch Ushijima the entire time. Nevermind that Romeo and Juliet movie using the original dialogue. He couldn’t even understand it.

Then his eyes shifted towards his hand that rested on the recliner, making him frown. Since the movie started, he already placed his hand where Ushijima could hold it. But the movie was probably half over already, and nothing.

A child’s cry drowned the actors’ voices and shook the whole cinema, turning everyone’s attention to the source in the row behind them. Only Ushijima did not bother to pay a glance towards the disturbance.

Oikawa thought, Why make a child watch Romeo and Juliet?

He stifled a laugh and his hand flew to cover the corners of his mouth from twitching upwards as cheese popcorn fell from right above Ushijima’s head.

That was all it took to have Ushijima turn his attention to the annoying child. The audience expressed annoyance through angry muffles, but Ushijima remained calm and collected, politely accepting apologies from the man, whom Oikawa guessed as the father, as he tried to soothe the crying child.

Ushijima caught Oikawa’s attention, but it was too late for him to hide his smile. Oikawa laughed awkwardly, then hoisted his drink he hadn’t touched from the recliner to hand over to Ushijima.

“Drink water,” he said even as he himself was dehydrated.

Musicians took up spots inside the restaurant that Ushijima booked for the date. The room was filled with a blend of soft conversations, the clang of plates, and violins. Such a beautiful sound, if only that one musician knew how to carry a tune.

Oikawa and Ushijima kept straight faces, looking at each other as if they could tell what the other was thinking.

It was grand, but terrible. The dishes were too small. Certainly not enough to satiate their hunger. And that music? Gods above.

He registered the change in Ushijima’s face as he watched him intently across the table that separated them both. His ears were turning a little red, his forearms braced on the table. While Oikawa, on the other hand, leaned on the back of his chair, sitting like a king.

“How do you do it?” Ushijima asked quietly, his eyes almost pleading.

“Do what?” Oikawa grinned, raising his head high, teasing.

Ushijima gave him a slow smile and a flicker of light moved across his eyes, “How do you ignore that irritating sound?”

“My teammates are louder, and much more annoying than that,” Oikawa laughed, stealing another glance at the stressed-out musicians who wasted no time in poking at the one who couldn’t play the right strings. He would’ve felt sorry for him, really, had it not sparked an interesting conversation between him and Ushijima.

Ushijima traced the rim of his glass, “Louder and annoying?” his brows narrowed slightly.

“So,” Oikawa tilted his head, keeping a smile on his face as he recalled moments he spent with the team. “There was this one time when we went to a training camp. And I couldn’t sleep on the bus because they were all so obnoxiously loud and kept singing.”

Oikawa was the leader of that fiasco, but he would never admit to it.

“I had to snap their foreheads one by one to make them stop,” he shrugged. “It was fun though.”

“You have a very different definition of fun,” Ushijima chuckled, so soft and so mellow. The sound was better than the horrible quartet playing in the background, and Oikawa wanted to hear it again.

“Well,” Ushijima started, “do you want to get out of here?”

Somehow, it didn’t seem like goodbye.

“Wait!” Oikawa laughed when the tail of the scarf around his neck got caught in between the restaurant door they walked through.

Ushijima took a step closer, opening the door for Oikawa to pull out his scarf. A slash of a grin spread across his face, “What are you doing?”

Oikawa could only laugh as Ushijima stared at him with the same intensity. They stood in front of each other. No words, just stillness. But they were sure something changed. Even when they’ve only had a short time to get to know each other.

From the short distance that separated them, Oikawa watched as Ushijima’s brown eyes turned molten from the warm lights all around them. He couldn’t brush off the rush of having Ushijima look only at him, trying not to get lost in those strange, enticing eyes.

Oikawa winced as a gust of icy wind blew the tail of his scarf and froze his ears. He took that sign as an opportunity to pull it tightly around him.

“Walk with me?” he asked gently.

“I would love to,” Ushijima nodded. “But I’m afraid you would have to lead me instead. I’m not quite familiar with the road down there.”

Oikawa smiled even as he rolled his eyes, “Don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets picked up?”

Ushijima tucked his hand behind his back as they strode forward through the cobbled streets. He fumbled for words, but he did not drop his grin as the golden lights twinkled across the city, “Not really.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Do you have a reason not to?”

“Okay, you’re good,” Oikawa complimented when he couldn’t counter his quick remark.

“Thank you,” Ushijima chuckled, deep and slow.

Oikawa frowned, “You actually look more handsome with honesty on your face.”

“I do?” Ushijima grinned, boasting those white teeth, brows knotting.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa waved him off. “You’re cute. Stop smiling at me like that,” he added, averting his gaze from Ushijima. “Your lack of self-awareness is deeply troubling.”

Ushijima pocketed his hands, “And you? Are you honest?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Oikawa shrugged and smiled roguishly, keeping his gaze on the lights ahead. From a distance, he could see the head of the illuminated fountain by the park they were nearing. “Maybe I’ll just be straightforward about taking advantage of you.”

Ushijima laughed but said nothing. No one spoke as they realized that the space between them felt strangely intimate.

“What about the violin in the restaurant earlier, huh?” Oikawa followed with a tease.

“What on earth,” Ushijima drawled, sounding exasperated, “is all I have to say to that.”

With a turn around the hedge, the gush of water from the fountain park enticed them both. A strong gust of wind made them feel that the air had turned colder with the time, ripping through them as they observed the golden lit decorations surrounding the park.

“Do you want to..?” Ushijima didn’t finish the words, extending his arm and pointing his index towards the brightly lit fountain.

Their date should have ended the moment they stepped out of the restaurant. But the beautiful fountain in the center illuminating their faces signaled that it had only just begun.

Before Oikawa could sit on an empty bench—only a few feet away from the fountain, Ushijima dusted it with his hand, making his date smile appreciatively at the effort. In the touch of freezing cold, it became their spot to just sit and watch the fountain as a silent acknowledgement that neither were ready to part ways just yet.

“So,” Oikawa said as he crossed his legs, turning to Ushijima as the latter sat down. “Tell me more about you.”

“About me?” Ushijima’s brows creased, setting his eyes on his hands that rested in his lap. Oikawa realized how there was no progress in terms of skinship between them, but he wasn’t complaining. “There’s nothing much about me, really.”

“Impossible,” Oikawa shook his head. “There’s never nothing about anything or anyone.”

Oikawa’s eyes glittered as he stared at Ushijima’s hand, and his heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to his face.

“How about us?” Ushijima asked.

A flush of pink bloomed on his cheeks as his heart hammered against his ribcage. He hadn’t been expecting such an honest question, such a question that flushed all the bravado he tried so hard to muster.

“Is there a reason you’re blushing like that?” Ushijima tilted his head.

Oikawa kept his gaze averted, biting his full bottom lip. Because of you!

“Oikawa?” Ushijima called.

He tried not to let it show what it did to him to have Ushijima remember his name. Or to hear him say it. To have him let out the words from his lips.

“Are you okay?” Ushijima asked, but made no move to touch him.

Good. Because Oikawa wasn’t entirely certain he could handle his heat hovering against him. He took a breath, and that same impish grin swiped back. “You should know by now,” he teased.

The silence that followed after didn’t lay as heavy as it used to be. Instead, Oikawa straightened himself, resting a hand on the bench in the short distance separating both, gazing at the fountain that kept them company.

“I like mushroom risotto,” he said out of the blue.

“Mushroom risotto?”

“Mushroom risotto,” he repeated, still keeping his eyes averted.

There was a short pause before Ushijima spoke, “Did you know that mushrooms are made up of 90% water?”

Do you want to go try mushroom risotto next time? Do you want me to bring that for you one day? Do you want me to cook that for you? Such questions were what he thought would’ve followed next. Questions that would make them meet each other again. Never a random fact he didn’t expect.

Oikawa turned his head towards his date. “What?” He choked on a laugh as he asked it.

“Yeah,” Ushijima gruffed, completely unaware of what left Oikawa in disbelief. “They’re also a fungus. Did you know?”

“No,” Oikawa shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“We should forage for mushrooms next time.”

Next time, the words rang in Oikawa’s head. Next time.

“And you?” Oikawa followed. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Curry,” his date answered plainly, his free hand discreetly traveling towards Oikawa’s hand on the bench.

A faint warmth bloomed in his chest. The brief touch of Ushijima’s fingers through Oikawa sent a pang of desire through him so strong he wanted to pull him in closer. It had taken all of him, all his self control to keep his breathing steady as he gazed back at the fountain.

That was all it took to have Oikawa’s gaze back at the fountain again, “These lights are familiar,” he started. “From my recitals from those years ago. It’s kinda nostalgic.”

When Ushijima didn’t say anything, he took it upon himself to turn his head back towards him. With the look written across Ushijima’s face and those eyes, he understood.

“I will pretend I haven’t heard the question in your eyes,” he groaned.

“No, tell me,” Ushijima leaned a little forward.

“It’s nothing, really. I just took up dancing a while back. Then I shifted to volleyball,” he eyed him, searching for any sign of mockery.

“Dancing?” Ushijima pondered, running a finger along his lips—the sight making Oikawa swallow—before returning his gaze to the other, “Could you, perhaps, show me?”

“What?” Oikawa asked in disbelief, turning left and right. “Here?”

Ushijima nodded.

“What?” he shook his head. “No!”

But Ushijima stood up and offered his hand. Oikawa stared at it for a moment, creasing his brows, but a ghost of a smile remained plastered across his lips. He looked around, searching for prying heads.

“There are people,” he argued in a whisper.

Ushijima shrugged, “People are too busy to care about anyone other than themselves.”

Oikawa let out a long sigh before he took Ushijima’s hand. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “Fine.”

He cleared his throat and lumbered, positioning himself in the center from where they stood. Ushijima could never tell him, but he looked like a perfect decoration in front of the fountain behind him.

Oikawa gazed across the stone pavement. Sliding his foot back and the other forward, he extended his arms in front in a smooth motion that truly suggested he had some background in the art. He was dancing, then his arms were flailing in the sky with feline grace. His scarf spun around him as he whirled, and he was thankful for the cold that he wouldn’t sweat. He felt like flying, until the ground was beneath his feet again.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done this. And why did he stop?

Ushijima stared at the slightly breathless wonder in front of him as he skidded to a halt. His eyes twinkled, just a bit—in a way they usually did when he was amused but tried hard not to be.

Oikawa looked spectacular. Utterly and completely spectacular. A little stiff on the edges, but spectacular.

Oikawa picked up his scarf that fell on the ground. Then his eyes rested on Ushijima, whose hands were pocketed in his coat. A tug on the corner of his lips issued the bravado he’d been keeping.

“What? Amused?” he teased with a conspirator’s grin when he closed the final distance between them.

Ushijima just stared at him, taking in the warm gleam in his eyes. He said nothing, but his hand flew to Oikawa’s scarf. Both said nothing as Ushijima wrapped the it around him, “It always becomes loose when you’re the one putting it on.”

A delicious heat kissed its way down Oikawa’s neck to his spine as if there was some warmth left despite the winter.

“Perhaps I will take up dancing again,” he said in a little more than a whisper, his throat constricting at the moment.

A hush had fallen between them, but Oikawa felt as if there was something inside him that found it to be a perfect piece in their merriment. It went beyond his expectations. He enjoyed his time with Ushijima.

“Let’s take you home,” Ushijima said and Oikawa only nodded.

The streets were too quiet this time of the night—so quiet that only their footsteps and chuckles and moments of conversation lingered in the sleeping city. They were still talking and laughing, and it had been that way since they left the park, stepping forward with the wings of conversation.

“What was your favorite part?” Ushijima asked, his eyes not on the streets before him but on Oikawa. Such wild ecstasy, he noted.

Oikawa paused, his brows creasing as Ushijima waited for his answer, thinking. Then his eyes widened and met Ushijima’s, “Oh, you mean the movie?”

Ushijima only chuckled, “Yes, the movie.”

“Not the baby?”

“Yeah, and maybe that too,” a faint smile stretched Ushijima’s lips.

“Hmm, let’s see,” Oikawa looked forward, brows knotting yet again as he acted. His finger tapped on his lip in a way that forced Ushijima to remind himself to keep his focus on Oikawa’s eyes, “I like the part where the dad,” he stared back at Ushijima, “picked up the baby and they went outside. That scene was amazing!”

Ushijima chuckled, looking away from him and Oikawa realized how manly Ushijima’s voice was. Then Oikawa’s eyes scanned the street before him, how the establishments and the crooked, dark streets were becoming more and more familiar to him.

“You laughed at me earlier,” there was a hint of a smile on Ushijima’s lips.

Oikawa felt a little embarrassed, but he laughed, “You’ve gotta admit. It was kind of funny.”

“It was fine,” Oikawa answered seriously.

“Same here.”

“No way. I thought you liked Shakespeare,” he said in disbelief.

“I thought you liked Shakespeare,” Ushijima countered.

He assumed that Oikawa was interested in Shakespeare because, sometimes, he would post quotes from Romeo and Juliet. What Ushijima didn’t know was that: it was Oikawa’s literature teacher who originally posted those, and he only wanted to get on their good side.

“It took me some time to understand the words,” Oikawa admitted.

Ushijima’s smile widened, revealing his white teeth, “For saints have hands that pilgrims’ hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss.”

Oikawa’s hand flew to his mouth that went agape, “How did you memorize that?” he asked with amusement in his eyes.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima urged him.

“You are reciting Juliet’s lines,” Oikawa narrowed his eyes in thought, but the grin didn’t disappear from his lips.

“Say your lines,” Ushijima repeated, ignoring his remark.

Oikawa rolled his eyes, his brows knotting trying to remember the right words, “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

“You’re annoying. Mine is long,” he frowned at how fast Ushijima replied and how long he remembered the next line was. But it took only one grin from Ushijima and he started speaking.

“Something. Something,” his eyes almost bawled upwards trying to remember the words. “Let lips do what hands do. Uh. They pray grant thou, lest faith turn to despair..?” he finished with uncertainty. “Wait. How do you even memorize these?”

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayer's sake,” Ushijima continued.

“Then move not, while my prayers’ effect I take,” Oikawa grinned with how fast he recited the lines as he halted in front of his house and Ushijima did the same.

“Thus, from my lips,” Ushijima said hoarsely. Oikawa didn’t mean to, but his eyes went down to Ushijima’s lips, “by thine, my sin is purged.”

His heartbeat quickened when his gaze rose to Ushijima’s eyes, “Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” he said in a little more than a whisper.

The night was honest and his eyes whispered of how they met, how there was an unspoken understanding between them. And being with Ushijma was like staying in the rain, he still wanted to be in it one more time.

Through a clearing in the skies, clusters of stars could be seen and the sliver of the crescent moon shone above them as they stepped into the pool of moonlight.

“Good night,” Ushijima said. “You’re probably tired.”

But he was not tired, he was not done. There was still greed and want inside of him that made him want to pull Ushijima closer. The longing for a wave of touch and friction of joy that only grew bigger and bigger by the minute.

“Good night,” was all he replied, his voice so soft and mellow.

Oikawa turned his back on Ushijima, his steps feeling heavier by the minute as he trudged away from him. But he looked back, and the greed must have shown because Ushijima stood there, watching him, thinking.

He grinned and crossed his arms, “You do realize what time it is, right?”

Ushijima shrugged and pocketed his hands, “I just want to see you walk in.”

That was all it took for Oikawa to do the opposite. He went closer to Ushijima, closing the gap between them. There was only the absence of conversation and how much he wanted to touch Ushijima.

“It was enchanting to meet you,” Ushijima said quietly before his ears filled with the softness of Oikawa’s laughter.

“Do you know how cliche you sound, Romeo?” he teased.

Oikawa watched the way Ushijima’s lips widened in a smile and died down slowly.

“I think,” Ushijima started, the words were barely more than a strangled whisper, “I like you a lot.”

The longing blinded him, and he flung himself on Ushijima, breathing in his scent and the slight trace of cheese in him. He memorized the feel of him and the heat of Ushijima’s body hovering over him.

“We probably should just go to McDonald’s next time,” he teased.

“As long as I’m with you,” Ushijima chuckled against Oikawa’s lips. “I would like that very much.”

It was only that, and their lips touched.

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu fanfic #ushioiweek2020 #ushioiweek #ushioi #ushioi fanfic #ushijima wakatoshi #oikawa tooru #ushioi fluff #fluff #first date #terrible date fanfic #ushijima wakatoshi x oikawa tooru #revalise #like and/or reblog

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blu-joons · 5 years ago

Text

History Of Love ~ Jeon Jungkook

Every morning when you walked into the classroom, his eyes would fall on you. You sat right at the front, paying your full attention to the lecture, scribbling notes down in your red writing pad, highlighting around it, making sure it stood out.

You didn’t even know his name, he was just the troublemaker at the back of the room, who paid little attention. He was cheeky, sarcastic, but for some reason, the teachers loved him.

Your layout was set out at your desk in time for the teacher’s arrival. The room fell silent, except for the snigger in the background, knowing exactly where it was coming from. You ignored, as you always did, not wanting to give him any satisfaction.

“You’ll be pleased to know, that for this week you will be paired up to make a project. I’ve taken the liberty of pairing you up based on your abilities, and to provide you all with a new challenge.”

One by one the pairs were reeled off, the room started separating off into different directions. You looked back, only five people were left, one of your closest friends, two boys from the soccer team, a girl from the drama society, and him.

“Next, will be Jungkook and Y/N.”

His arm went up in the air; you sunk in your seat. He gathered his stuff, skipping to the front of the classroom, sitting down beside you. Your pad and pen were brushed aside making room for his belongings, his long legs stretching out underneath the desk leaving little room for yours anymore.

Your teacher gave you the task at hand, with the deadline to be met in just six days. You wouldn’t have minded too much if it had been in class, but unfortunately, it was to be done in your own time.

“Let me make one thing clear,” you whispered across to him, “there is no way I am doing this project alone. You work your ass off, and I’ll work mine off. Got it?”

He smirked, you had attitude, and he loved it. It was the first time he’d ever heard you speak, as his nose scrunched, impressed by you.

“I’m all yours,” he teased.

Your eyes rolled, looking back to the front of the classroom, ignoring him beside you. Leaflets and instruction booklets were passed around the room in rows. You took yours from the pairing next to you, only for Jungkook to snatch them away.

“This will be easy, we’ve got nothing to worry about Y/N,” he proclaimed.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

The two of you arranged to meet at his house that night and try and get some work done as he wanted to be at his place. You arrived at six, just like he’d asked, carrying all the books you could find from the library earlier in the afternoon.

You were terrified, no one wanted to work with the class clown. This project was important to you, you didn’t have a failure to your name, and that wasn’t something you wanted to give up now. His house was huge, as you walked up, knocking three times on the front door.

“You’re here come in,” he soon smiled, opening the door for you.

“Yeah, h-hi,” you whispered.

It was daunting walking in for the first time, it was much bigger than your house, it was fancy, and well decorated, unlike anything you could have imagined.

He took you up into his bedroom, offering you the workspace at the desk whilst he sat on his bed, pulling out his notepad and pen.

“Look, I know this project means a lot to you, so I promise I will work hard for you. Just be patient with me.”

You nodded, staring down at your laptop. He loved how shy you were, you were vulnerable to him, and he knew that, but that wasn’t something he wanted to exploit. If anything, he admired you. You were intelligent, and kind, two qualities that he adored in you.

“Alright, where do we begin? I remembered to pick up the information book from earlier so that we can look over it.”

He pulled out from his school bag the pink coloured instruction book he’d so cruelly taken from you earlier. “I flicked through it before you came, and I quite like the topic on the history of language, but it’s up to you too?”

“I’m happy with whichever,” you smiled.

It was settled, the two of you had chosen your topic, step one was done, and it was nowhere near as hard as you thought.

“Next I think we devise a plan,” continued, “maybe divide the workload, find some sources, decide how we want to lay this out. My dad’s got some old canvases we could use; I can find them if you like?”

“Y-yeah, sure.”

You sat, completely stunned as he jogged out of the room, into his father’s office next door. Whilst you waited for your laptop to open, you couldn’t help but look at his open pad of paper. Inside, he’d already scribbled several notes, along with page numbers of books he’d read.

“They aren’t perfect, but I think they will be effective in making ours stand out,” he spoke, re-entering the room, holding two canvases up, nearly as big as him.

“No, they’re perfect.” You smiled.

The rest of the evening the two of you spent searching endlessly through as many books as you could, finding sources and evidence to help support your points. It was nearing midnight when the two of you finally decided to call it a day.

“Allow me to take you home, it’s not safe for you to walk back when it’s so dark. My car is parked just outside,” he offered.

You smiled but shook your head. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I only live a few roads down.”

“Even more of a reason for you to let me take you, it will only take two minutes.”

You didn’t argue any further, too tired to fight back. He took your bag, whilst you took your books, walking you downstairs, before driving you home.

The following day at school, it felt like you were strangers once more, except for when you walked into the room, you couldn’t help but look over at him. Your eyes met; a subtle wink was sent your way as you took your seat at the front of the room.

Every night for the next six nights was spent at his house, chatting away, creating the perfect project together. It was just what you’d hoped for, as the final piece was stuck to the canvas, job done.

“I have to say, I’ve enjoyed doing this project.”

“Me too,” you giggled, “I thought I’d end up doing it all alone when I got partnered with you, but you’ve surprised me. It’s been good fun getting to do this together and see a new side of you.”

Spending time with Jungkook had helped bring you out of your shell. He was dedicated to helping you achieve what you wanted to, and if he was honest, he enjoyed working so hard and seeing such a good outcome tomorrow.

“I think our project will definitely be the best tomorrow,” he proudly smiled, taking your bag, handing you your laptop.

“Are you sure you’re happy to take it in? I don’t mind meeting you in the morning.”

“It’s all good, I’ll drive my car, so they don’t get damaged, and I’ll see you there.”

The morning of the project presentation had you a nervous wreck. You had great confidence in what you and Jungkook had achieved, but you were still petrified to talk amongst all your classmates.

Jungkook met you in the corridor, holding two canvases, one in either hand, exactly how you’d left them tonight. “Morning, how are you feeling?”

“I’m nervous,” you confessed.

“It’ll be okay,” he smiled, resting them down on a table, wrapping his arm around you. “We’ve worked so hard on these; everyone will love them.”

You looked up, shaking your head, cowering into his bulky frame. “It’s not that, these canvases are amazing, it’s just the thought of speaking in front of everyone makes me feel ill. The thought of standing up at the front of the classroom, having all those eyes looking at me, I just want to run away and turn in nothing.”

“You can’t do that,” he spoke, turning you so you faced him.

He searched your eyes, your body shook in his hold, you were terrified. There was only one thing he could do, you’d worked tirelessly on the project with him, he owed you the world for helping him get his first reasonable success at school.

“How about this? I do all the talking, because if we’re going to present these, we do it together. We’re a team Y/N, you’ve done so much on this, so let me do this for you.”

“Jungkook, I can’t.”

“You can,” he assured you, cupping either side of your face. “You have to let me do this. This week has meant a lot to me, I was worried too when I got partnered with you. The shy, smart girl who would probably think I was some dumb idiot, but you’ve taught me a lot this week. You’ve taught me kindness, humility, respect, and most of all, that it’s okay to accept anybody, just because you aren’t the loudest in the room, doesn’t make you any less special.”

You didn’t know what to say as a lump ran down your throat, tears welling in your eyes. You reached out, intertwining your hand with his, reaching up on your tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“What was that for?” He blushed, wiping the mark where your lips had been.

“Just to say thank you, for everything.”

He smiled down at you, brushing his hand through your hair, before picking up both the canvases. He’d never been proud of anything at school, teachers always told him he’d never amount to much, but looking at what the two of you achieved, he was proud. Not only of himself, or his work, but of you.

Your nerves calmed, as Jungkook opened the classroom door for you. All eyes were on what you’d done, there had been whispers about you both all week. The childish boy who didn’t care about school teaming with the know-it-all girl who never said a word. It sounded like a car crash waiting to happen.

“Ignore them,” Jungkook whispered into your ear, sitting down at your usual spot at the front of the class. “We’ll show them wrong.”

“We will,” you replied, resting your head on his shoulder.

The teacher walked in, unable to hide her shock when she saw the two of you had produced a piece together. A small gasp escaped, which her hand quickly covered, standing at the front of the class.

“Well, welcome to you all, I’m excited to see what you’ve all come up with. Do we have any volunteers who would like to go first?”

You sunk back in your seat, if there was one thing you’d learnt, it was to never hold eye contact with the teacher in the hope they’d forget about you in the room.

Only beside you, Jungkook proudly raised his arm, jolting you off his shoulder. “Y/N and I will.”

You glared coldly across at him, watching as he turned to face you, a confident smile plastered across his face. On the inside you were seething, no way could you go first. You always waited until the end in the hope that the lesson would run out of time and you’d get away with doing nothing.

His hand came down, resting over yours, “trust me, I know what I’m doing. We’ll have these idiots terrified to present when they see what we’ve done.”

“Alright, well a round of applause for our willing volunteers, Y/N and Jungkook.”

The teacher stepped aside, whilst the two of you stepped up, holding a canvas each. Your heart was pounding, but Jungkook’s spare hand on the small of your back was the assurance that you needed. You looked over at him, he nodded his head, clearing his throat.

“I first want to give credit to Y/N, who has worked tirelessly on this project. She’s terrified about presenting this, but I hope us going first will prove to her today that she needs to have a bit more faith in herself.”

The whole classroom was locked on the two of you, unable to recognise who Jungkook had become.

“We chose to study the history of the language, because it’s something we both have found we have a great interest in. I’m going to do all the talking today, so sorry if you get sick of my voice, whilst Y/N stands beside me looking pretty.”

A deep shade of red quickly shone on your cheeks, highlighted by the bright lights of the classroom. You didn’t know where to look as Jungkook began, unaware of the flustered state you were in.

He presented it perfectly, in the right order, using the right quotes and stating all your points. It was so good; it even generated a voluntary round of applause from your classmates. Once it was done, you sighed in relief, feeling Jungkook pull you close.

“I have to say, I’m very impressed. You two have certainly exceeded all my expectations, I hope you all take note of what a proper project looks like. Take a seat guys, well done, that is two definite passes.”

Jungkook couldn’t hide the smile on his face, his first pass, after all these years. He guided you back to your seat, slipping the two canvases under the table, out of the way.

Under the table, once you were seated, he took your hand, moving your chair so there was no distance between you both.

“You have no idea how thankful I am to you, and how proud I am of everything the two of us have achieved. You got me my first pass Y/N, thank you so much.”

“No, you got yourself a pass. I hope you’ve proven to yourself how if you put your mind to something, you can achieve anything. Maybe you’re not Jungkook who just sits at the back not giving a damn after all, maybe you can start paying attention and working your ass of and getting the passes you want.”

The two of you were ignorant of the next presentation, most of the room was, it didn’t compare at all to yours.

“I have to admit, there was one thing I left off the project, I didn’t know how you’d feel about it.”

“What was it?” You asked.

He reached into his back pocket, sliding a piece of paper across the table to you. It was crumpled where it had been folded so many times, but you soon recognised his handwriting as you unfolded it. Your eyes read over it, turning to him in confusion as you read it.

Y/N

We may have studied the history of language, but there’s something else I want to call history too. You’ve made me realise that being the shy, intelligent girl isn’t so bad. You’ve always been pretty to me but getting to know you has made me see you in a different way. I want to change, for the better because of you. And if you’d like, I’d love for you to be my girlfriend too.

You stared over at him, noticing his light blush. He’d lost all control, he was weak and vulnerable for you, just how you’d been for him seven days ago. “What do you say? I meant what I said, you’ve opened up a whole new world to me.”

“Is this why you called me pretty up there?”

His head nodded. “I was going to ask you up there, but I got all shy. I guess I’m not so dissimilar to you after all.”

You chuckled, reaching across, cupping the side of his face. The two of you were lost in the room, it felt like no one else was around, your eyes were focused solely on the dark-haired boy before you. “Jungkook, I’d love to be your girlfriend,” you whispered, softly pressing a kiss to his lips.

It was brief, but it was magical, as his head pressed against yours. “I never thought I’d be thankful to have been set up with you on a project, but I’m so glad I was. From now on, I’m going to pay attention, and learn, and be more like you.”

“And I’ll be more like you. I’ll be more confident, and self-assured, because I shouldn’t be afraid of who I am and the things I do.”

“Exactly. Together we are going to make quite the team. Your beauty and brains, and my- “

“-beauty and brains.”

“I didn’t want to say it, but yes, maybe.”

You shook your head, poking the dimple on his cheek from his wide smile. “You’re too cute Jeon Jungkook, thank you for reluctantly being my partner through it all.”

“You’re welcome, thank you for being the best partner in the world, you’ve made me feel ways I never have before.”

“And you I.”

You were interrupted by a round of applause, looking up to see the next presentation had finished. Both of you glanced at each other, falling back in your chairs, sniggering as you paid no attention at all to what had just happened.

“You’re a bad influence on me,” you whispered, nudging his bicep with your elbow.

“It’s a good job you’re such a good one on me.”

---

Masterlist

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ohwhatamessiam · 5 years ago

Text

Self Control - Chapter 12

Summary: The end of the semester is upon you, but the drama is not done yet!

Pairing: Professor!Chris Evans X TA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k+

Warnings: Language, uncomfortable feelings, and maybe some secondhand embarrassment.

A/N: Hi y’all! I’m back much sooner than intended, but you know, quarantine and social distancing dictate life now! There’s 1 chapter left in Self Control, and if you’re lucky, I might spring an epilogue on ya (we’ll see how the next month or so goes)! Thank you to @fangirlisms-22 for beta’ing my sudden writing binge. I tried to tag everyone, but some blogs have deactivated, changed urls, or won’t let me tag them. Let me know if you need me to change your url on my list. Here’s the Spotify playlist for the entire fic.

I love feedback, so send me your thoughts, feelings, wishes, etc!

Tags are still barely open for this story, so send me an ask here to be added to it or my permanent list!

Self Control | Masterlist

You had no idea how much two weeks could change your life.

You and Chris had barely spoken to one another, only given polite greetings when running into each other at the office. The rest of your communication was through email.

And Robert had sent the story you were working on from before break to a few of his friends and former students at literary magazines. The story you had started during break was becoming more of a means of therapy, a confessional of your relationship with Chris. And it was helping you process what happened.

It was the last day of classes, and the last day before semester papers were due. The assignment was for the students to choose their favorite story or writer of the semester and then to expand upon what they learned in that specific unit. Whatever specific story or person they chose, they were supposed to research who else has used it as inspiration for work since. It could be modern television or film, or another story or author that was influenced. And then they had to explain why they chose that subject. What made them interested enough to do further research upon it, and how it might affect their future consumption of art and literature.

It was a relatively open-ended subject and for the first time the whole semester, students were actually using your office hours.

And one student in particular who’d been giving you the cold shoulder turned up.

Tom.

He’s perched on the edge of the seat across from you, his laptop on the ground as his hands dig through articles he’d photocopied at the library. He’d chosen Keats as his essay topic, and knowing that you also held a soft spot for Keats, he wanted your opinion.

And the deadline was approaching dangerously quickly.

“So I covered all the adaptations and inspired works, and his legacy. And I wrote about how his work is going to change my perception of poetry moving forward. I just think I’m struggling with why Keats was my favorite unit this semester.”

“That’s okay, sometimes when you get so used to academic writing, it becomes hard to write about yourself, and your own feelings. But putting sources and quotes aside to examine your own mental processes is an important part of literature and writing.”

“Okay, I understand that. But I don’t think that my honest answer about why I took an interest in Keats is appropriate for this paper.”

“If you’re worried about Chris or I reading something personal, you don’t have to be. Anything you write will be private. We won’t say anything to anyone.”

Your mind wanders to what could make Tom so worried. Did it have to do with family or his childhood? Keats had a difficult and tragedy filled childhood. Did it have to do with Keats dying so young, or the discussion of his possible addiction to opium?

His eyes drop to the folder on his legs, his fingers picking at the edges of its pages. “Are you sure?” You nod but his nerves aren’t done. “My reasoning might not be very appropriate for an academic setting.”

“Tom,” you say, your eyes softening as you watch him. “Your reasoning doesn’t have to be an expansive philosophical or literary reason. It can be, but it can also just be as simple as you liked his poems. That you found his life tragic but fascinating. Or that the words and rhyme schemes were pretty or interesting.” His eyes meet yours, the edges of his mouth ticking up the slightest bit. “Don’t overthink it. Just be honest with yourself and the text.”

He nods, letting out a deep breath. “Okay, (Y/N). I will be honest. And I’m going to try to trust you and Prof. Evans.”

“Thank you.” You give him a short nod, showing your gratitude in a punctuated fashion. He watches you for another moment, his brown eyes searching for something. But then he gulps and stops. His fingers place his materials back in his bag.

You sit up in your chair a little, almost saddened that your time with him is up. It was nice speaking with someone who didn’t look at you with desperation (because of finals) or pity (because of Chris). Tom’s thoroughly preparedness had made this the most interesting and easy conversation in weeks.

He packs his bag quietly and you let him. He’s a student, no matter how much you appreciate this time with him, there are clear boundaries. You will not cross them. After everything, that’s something you’re damn sure of.

At your door he pauses and says thank you. You give him a small smile, “You’ve done well this semester. I look forward to reading your paper, Tom.”

He cracks a smile, and you notice the slight rosiness that colors his cheeks. He raps his knuckles against your door for the last time this semester, and then he goes.

A pang of guilt lands in your gut, but you don’t know what to do with it yet. His blush probably meant nothing, he was just flattered. But that guilt stays nestled there, a reminder of what has happened, and a warning about what’s to come.

_______________________________________________________________________

Finals pass without a hitch, for both you and your students. You’re able to read the final papers from your apartment, away from any pity or other heavy feelings. You and Chris had decided to randomly split up the workload so you could get through them quickly and give thorough feedback. But final grades are due on Tuesday and you plan on going into your office to enter them and pick up the last few things you’ll need for next semester.

You get to your office in the afternoon Monday, hoping to miss Chris who said he’d come in early if any students wanted to dispute any last grades with him.

You did not end up with Tom’s paper in your final stack, and you wonder what he ended up writing for the rest of it. You’ve been in your office for almost two hours when you decide you’ll let your nosiness win, and you find Tom’s submission online. As you're opening the file, a heavy knock echoes from your door.

He speaks before you get the chance to look up, “Uh (Y/N)?” The way he says your name reaches your skin, your pulse, well before you find the strength to see him. You close your eyes for a moment, letting out a shallow breath before you answer.

“What can I do for you, Chris?”

He’s still the Chris you first met, clean, crisp lines composing his appearance. The Chris he might have always been. Maybe you just got a private viewing of him, a show for only your eyes. Maybe your Chris was a piece that he never let out. Maybe just an alias. A way to distance his actions from who everyone thought he was.

There is no trace of your soft or rumpled time together.

His eyes catch yours, and there’s something there. A pain, a distance, a longing. But it goes away.

And then he’s stepping into your office, “I wanted to ask you something privately?” He closes the door behind himself, but remains standing.

Does he want to get back together? Is he going to divorce Jennifer? Is he ready to choose you?

With your mind running wild, you make a conscious effort to clasp your hands together and keep your face blank, eyes steady.

“What is it?”

“Have you read Tom’s final paper yet?”

All that hope, gone. A pang of annoyance settles in your core. And it’s accompanied by that hint of guilt.

“I have not. Since you graded it, I didn’t need to.”

“Well… I think you should.” There was something in his eyes again, a spark nearly indicating intensity or concern.

“Okay, um. I’ll take a look at it.” You do not tell him you already have it open. You skim the first page, finding nothing but brief analysis and lots of references. “So far, there’s nothing unusual here. It’s a solid paper.”

“Keep going.” The tension of him standing in your office, waiting for you to finish reading agitates your nerves. Your eyes flick to his, but there’s something else mixed in with his previous intensity. There’s an edge, a little too sharp to ignore.

You keep reading. The second page is finished, and it’s literally everything you two had already discussed. The third page is where things get interesting.

Tom wrote that he enjoyed the lyricism of Keats, but what really cemented the poet as his favorite was his TA.

You.

He wrote that since Keats was one of your favorites, he paid more attention to it. That he saw you view Keats’ work as beautiful, giving it a reverence that he argued Keats should even be honored to have. That he looked up to your opinion and your interests, and that’s how he fell in love with the poetry.

Heat spreads across your chest, your face. You’re honored, but also, this is not what you expected from Tom. You look down from his paper, trying to search your mind for any conversations you had with him that would indicate that he was paying too much attention to you. And unfortunately, it’s there. So is the guilt you felt the last time you saw him.

But you know nothing happened here. You would have never entertained anything more than your positions in this academic institution allowed.

“Seems like he really learned a lot from you this semester.” The edge is there, and this time you can identify it. Humor.

“What are you trying to say?” Your words come out more defensive than you intend.

“(Y/N). This kid has a crush on you. Hell, in his hormonal mind, maybe more. Did you know?”

You shake your head. “No. No, if he has a crush on me, that’s his business. I was nothing but kind and open to Tom, but I didn’t know about this.” Truly, you’re referring to the paper more than Tom’s supposed crush.

The humor leaves him. “Kind and open? Are those two things strictly professional?”

The warmth of your skin turns into something worse, anger. “They were. I would never cross that line with a student.”

His hands brace his body as he leans onto your desk. His face mere inches from yours. “But you’d cross it with me? Your colleague and your boss.”

His words hit you like a slap. You flinch in response. How dare he insinuate that you might be a problem here, a repeat offender of an inappropriate relationship.

You want to yell at him, to let your rage out. But instead, you put on your best passive aggressive smirk. You remind yourself of everything that’s happened. He doesn’t get to see you angry or upset anymore. He gets a civil, bare minimum now.

“I will repeat it. If Tom has a crush on me, that is his business. I know he dropped by my office hours pretty often this semester, but I figured my hours fit his schedule better. And no. I was not crossing any boundaries with him. I would not do that.”

He opens his mouth, his eyes clouding with a hint of regret.

“And I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve been pretty occupied trying to hide a different relationship all semester. I didn’t have the time to consider Tom as anything but a student, when most of my time was occupied by someone else.”

The guilt you felt before dissipates, but Chris’ downturned lips and furrowed brow just indicates that it has found another home.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” He sighs and pulls back from your desk. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Well, you can’t take it back.” Even though every ounce of you wishes he could. Hell, you wish you could take back this entire interaction. That he had never walked to your door. “So let’s just move on.”

“Okay. I can do that.”

Yeah, he’d been doing that without you for a while.

“I don’t know how you want to handle this situation though,” he adds, still standing over you. “If you want to talk to Robert or call Tom in to talk to-“

“Robert doesn’t need to be involved. Tom may have crossed a line into a personal territory, but he’s never acted upon his feelings. So there’s no need for administrative intervention.”

“Are you sure?”

“Chris,” you sigh. You know what you’re going to say next will hurt and may not be completely true, but you don’t need your professional reputation questioned again. “I already lied for your sake once this semester. You could return the favor by keeping this to yourself.”

“I don’t kn-”

“Don’t put a target on Tom’s back.” Your voice comes out strong, authoritatively. You’re settling this now. “I remember being his age and getting dumb crushes on TAs. It doesn’t mean anything, and it doesn’t need to be mentioned again.”

He freezes in front of you, fully taking you in. Maybe he only got little pieces of you this semester too. Maybe it was time you both saw each other for who you fully were.

“Okay.” He nods to himself, letting out a deep breath. “Okay.”

He stays stuck in that spot, accepting your argument.

“So, if that’s settled…” you begin. But his hands squeeze together and his eyes focus on the edge of your desk again. You watch him, wondering what would cause him to look as lost as he did the last time he had been in your office.

“I uh, I wanted to tell you something else.” His blue eyes are back on you, and there’s that twinkle again. Is it longing or pain? Just the fraying of his nerves? You don’t say anything, just let his gaze burn through you, waiting for him to work up the courage.

“I’ve been writing again.” Sebastian had told you he’d been writing when you two were together. You hoped selfishly that he’d stopped when he went back to Jennifer, but apparently not. “The novel I’m working on. It- it’s inspired by some of what happened this semester.”

So you weren’t the only one working through your feelings with writing. But your writing had been vague. It was different characters, different situations, just some of the same emotions and complications. What was he using from the last 4 months? You’d made it through your affair without ruining your career here. Hopefully, he wouldn’t blow your life up with some story about you two now.

When you don’t answer, he turns his back to you. His breath comes ragged, he’s worried. “I just thought you should know.”

“As long as you don’t use my name, or anything too specific, I guess that’s fine. I can’t stop you.”

He turns back quickly, his eyes wide. He must not have expected you to let this go so easily. But you can’t blame him for using the same coping mechanism as you are.

“I don’t even know if it’ll turn into anything important. I just didn’t want it to be a surprise if it did.”

“That’s fine.”

He leans onto your desk again, making sure his eyes are level with yours. They’re so earnest, it hurts. There’s a piece of him there that you used to see so often. That you used to think was yours.

But it had been three weeks. And it makes it a little worse knowing you might never see that sincerity again.

“I’ll make sure if it does go somewhere, that you get to see it first. I owe you that much.”

You nod, your eyes trained on him. He doesn’t look away.

The intensity between you two is still there, pulling you toward each other. But you said you were done with that. You couldn’t change his decision, and it seemed he hadn’t taken it back either.

His face moves to you, his mouth nearly on your own. You hadn’t been this close since before Thanksgiving break. You can feel his breath on your lips, it tickles your skin. The person you were before break would have used his mouth to relieve the itch. But that’s not who you are anymore.

You pull back from him, putting the necessary distance between you two. He stands up straight, his expression somewhere between confused and upset.

You tell yourself something very important in the moment: he doesn’t get to be upset that you’ve changed. And you don’t get to be upset anymore that he wouldn’t. All that is past you.

“Thank you, Chris.” You say loudly, but without malice. “If you have nothing else to add, I think we’re done here.”

“Of course,” he whispers. He closes his eyes, and the next time he opens them, all those previous emotions are gone. Like no part of the last several minutes happened. He leaves your office door open, just as it had been when he’d come in.

And as you look up, you notice two sets of eyes watching you from the hallway. It is Elizabeth, and her friend and fellow grad student, Letitia. They watch you with pity. You want to be done with that. You force a smile to them, and then close your office door.

_______________________________________________________________________

Two hours later, all the final grades are submitted, and your stomach aches for something to eat. After the day you’ve had, maybe you’ll pick up Italian on your way home. You deserve large amounts of wine and pasta.

As you’re walking on the path to the parking lot, the sun setting around you, you hear feet pound against the pavement behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you see Sebastian jogging toward you. ‘Hey (Y/N),” he calls out. You slow your pace so he can catch up.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, his hair is all messed up. The soft and fluffy look works for him. But then you chide yourself for noticing that.

Once he composes himself, there’s an apologetic smile smeared across it. “Look, I’m sorry about how I acted toward you at Thanksgiving. I didn’t know what was going on with you and Chris.”

If you’re done with the pity, you’re done with this too. “Don’t mention it, Seb.” He grins at you, his eyes crinkling as his apologetic face disappears. “Yeah, I’m trying out the nickname.”

“Good. But are you sure? I was absolutely a dumbass about you two this semester.”

“Sebastian. It’s over. I’m done with Chris. I’m walking into winter break ready to be done with this last semester. I’m ready for something new.” He watches you, his eyes wide. He must notice that you're serious because he settles into a nod.

“Okay. I’m right there with you. My semester has been messy too.”

You quirk a brow at him, wondering how messy his semester could have been compared to yours. What, was he living up to his reputation by sleeping with his TA too? Or did Chris say that to scare you away from him?

“Look, I’m going to tell you a secret, (Y/N). And when I meant messy, I meant messy.” You watch him as he looks around the campus to see if anyone is nearby. “I know Chris has already suspected part of it, but while he was with you, Jennifer was with me.”

Instinct takes over and you slap his arm.

“Hey, they were on a break. And she’d been flirting with me for a whole year!”

You want to be mad at him for him sleeping with his friend’s wife. He violated a serious code of friendship. But for some reason you can’t. And you’re feeling something dangerously close to relief.

You can’t stop yourself, you laugh, loudly. If anyone else had been around, their lives would have been interrupted by the sound.

“I can’t tell if you’re taking this well.”

You smile at him genuinely. “I am actually. And I feel almost sort of, relieved?”

“Oh, have my fuck ups made yours feel less bad?” You wouldn’t have called your relationship with Chris a full fuck up. You didn’t regret it like that. But Sebastian wasn’t wrong. You reach the parking lot where your cars are and he turns on his heels. He gives you a little bow, “I’m so happy my stupidity could be of service.”

You pull your keys out, ready to unlock your car. “Thank you for that, Sebastian.”

“By the way, keep working on that.” He leaves your side as he heads for his vehicle.

“Working on what?”

He unlocks his car from his key fob as he pivots. “My nickname. I want to make sure you have it down for next semester.”

“Is it really that important?”

He gives you the most devious smile you’ve ever seen from him. And from the time you’d spent together, he’d given you many. “It is to me. I prefer that all my TA’s are comfortable enough to treat me as a friend.”

Your jaw drops. You hadn’t heard who Robert was pairing you up with for next semester. You knew it wouldn’t be Chris, but you’d been hoping that he might give you a semester off of assisting.

This time his laugh rang out through the campus.

“Yes (Y/N). Take the break to recharge and prepare. We’re gonna have a hell of a time teaching creative writing next semester.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Tags: @irishdancr24 @lostboyinneverland @captainmarvels @suz-123 @funlizzie02-blog @void-imaginations @cryingovershipsthatneversailed @breezykpop @jcc04220 @nys30 @jonsnowisnotdeadthough @guera31 @wickedcitywitch @london-dreamer71 @patzammit @lilypalmer1987 @talannalew @thatonetuesdaywhensam @supperunnatural20 @evanstanfanatic @lucinapomona @r5rocks101 @dolphinpink310 @bojabee @zlixlle @smashley816 @stevieang @youtheheckisbucky @chrisbck @bit-of-a-timelord @sebastian-i-stan @thefridgeismybestie @ssweet-empowerment @sophiealiice @imaginesofdreams @anotherawkwardaustralian @lostxsea

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krystalkoya · 5 years ago

Text

Tango | 01

Summary: Fed up hanging by the sidelines when you and your friends go out clubbing, you enroll in a dance class to give you the much needed confidence to join your friends out on the dance floor. What you don’t expect is to go from tripping over your feet to falling head over heels for your dance instructor.

Or, the one where you start learning more about your dance instructor than the art of dance itself.

REPOST: this fic underwent minor changes, nothing plot-wise but some minor edits to grammar and/or characters to make it up to par to my standards

read on ao3

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: fluff, slight angst, smut,

rating: +18

word count: 24k

chapter warnings: 18+ semi-public sex, oral sex, fingering, hand jobs, dirty talk

01| 02

_____

“For the last time Chae, I said no. I’m tired of being the only one sitting by the bar while the rest of you throw ass on the dance floor!“

You immediately cringed as you registered the sheer volume of your voice in the quiet frozen food aisle of the grocery store.

Shooting the glaring mother beside you an apologetic look, you lowered your voice and tried again.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just… everytime we go out I end up sitting by the bar on my phone or chatting it up with the bartender. It’s not like I don’t enjoy our conversations, some of them are quite insightful, but… I think it’s time for a change.”

Of all the times you have gone out clubbing with your friends, you were always the ‘responsible one’. You weren’t forced to take on this role. And it wasn’t like you didn’t have any fun while you were there. You enjoyed bar hopping and trying all sorts of questionable liquor, but when it came time to actually dance? No thanks. You’d rather just stick to your silly phone games. With a resigned sigh, your best friend of five years said, “___, no one is forcing you to sit by the bar the entire night. Here’s a thought: if you want to have fun why don’t you come dance with us?”

Picking up a tub of ice cream from the shelf, you examined the calorie content while you mulled over your friend’s words. The cold dessert definitely wasn’t allowed on your healthy eating kick, but not caring you tossed the tub into your cart and readjusted the phone in your hands.

“Chaeyoung, you know why.” You heard the frustrated click of her tongue before you even finished your sentence.

“Is this because you said you can’t dance? Please, not this shit again. You don’t have to be an expert! Like, have you actually seen anyone dance at the club?!? Everyone’s drunk and uncoordinated anyway so it doesn’t matter!”

“That’s not the point. Let’s just forget about this okay? I don’t even like the club anyway. All these sweaty strangers rubbing up against each other? I’ll pass, thanks.”

“Nope, you’re not weaseling your way out of this one. Come onnnn, it’s our tradition for god’s sake! If I’m being honest, I don’t even really like the club, but we’re in our twenties and society has convinced us that these are the golden years of our lives and we need to spend it getting drunk, stoned, and dicked down by random guys each week. It’s the principle of the thing.”

“First of all, we barely do any of those things you just mentioned, at least I don’t. I don’t know what you get up to in your free time but leave me out of it. Like I said, my mind’s made up and I’m not going back. End of discussion.”

You hear silence on the other line and for a moment you really think she has given up. But this is your best friend we’re talking about here, you should know better by now.

“Not even if I agree to teach you a few steps?” comes her pleading response. If you were there with her right now, you had no doubt she would be pulling her signature pouty-lipped face that always seemed to make you give in to her demands. Good thing you weren’t there.

“Really? Your going to teach me how to dance? Remember how that turned out the last time? In case you don’t, let me remind you. Bad. Like, very, very bad.”

There was a pause, as if she were jogging her memory of the time she tried to teach you how to ‘walk it out’ at her sister’s wedding years ago. “You’re absolutely right. How did I forget that mess.” You can almost hear her shudder on the other line. “That almost tore our friendship apart. Fine, you win.” Crossing off frozen fruit off from your list, you started walking towards the produce aisle of the grocery store.

“Exactly. Let’s just move on. I’m not going clubbing anymore and that’s that. Plus I wasn’t exactly meeting any guys there anyway.”

Chaeyoung let out a laugh, to which, you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why, but you were offended nonetheless. When she spoke again she revealed to you what she thought was so funny. “___, you do realize you don’t actually date the guys you meet at the club right? Those guys are only good for a fuck. Haven’t you ever heard of a one-night stand? And if they’re really good, then maybe even two fucks.”

“W H O R E.” is your only reply.

“First of all, fuck you. Second of all, it’s the 21st century and I am a sexually liberated woman who is free to do what she pleases with her body, with multiple men if she wants too. Third of all, you really need to get some dick, maybe then you wouldn’t be such an uppity bitch all the time. But guess what? That’s not gonna happen if your ass is glued to a stool instead of some dude’s crotch the entire night.”

“Hey listen, can you hear that? It’s the sound of me, rolling my eyes at you for the thousandth time tonight.”

She paid you no heed, ignoring your comment in favor of continuing on with her tirade.

“Listen, if you really want to learn how to dance I know someplace you could go to get lessons. I met this guy at the club who teaches contemporary dance but the studio offers all sorts of genres. You interested?”

As you checked off the last thing on your grocery list, phone pressed against your ear, you came to a stop and mulled over her words. Dance lessons? It never occurred to you that you could sign up for lessons, you had simply resigned yourself to the sad fact that you could not and would not ever have rhythm. At this point, you were tired and ready to end this conversation but you knew that wouldn’t happen if Chaeyoung didn’t get her way. So with a sigh, you reluctantly agreed.

“Sure, why not.”

“I’m sorry? Something other than immediate rejection? I- wasn’t expecting that. Okay, great, I’ll send you the details before you change your mind. I got to go now babe, my boss has been on my ass about these quarterly reports and I can’t stand to hear him go off on us about ‘the importance of meeting our deadlines’ again. But I’m so proud of you for doing this, we’ll have you throwing that ass back in no time! Love you!“

You could almost hear her grin through the phone but before you could even say goodbye she had already hung up on you. You chuckled, resting your hands on your shopping cart as you stared down at your phone. Chae could be – a lot. But she was your lot to handle. She was a reliable friend and you wouldn’t have made it through these last few years of college without her. However, as you went over the last few minutes of your phone call you couldn’t help but feel somewhat anxious.

Did I really just agree to taking dance lessons of all things?Fuck. If there was anything you could pray for more in that moment it was that you didn’t make an utter fool of yourself when the time came for you to actually dance. But before you could ponder your dilemma any further, several harsh taps on your shoulder stole your attention away from the device in your palms and up at your surroundings. You swiveled your head around looking for the source of the incessant jabs when your eyes landed on silky locks of vibrant red hair.

Oh boy. Oh boy, because the man attached to the mane of crimson hair might possibly be the most attractive person you have had the pleasure of viewing in a while.

He was strikingly handsome, a kind of natural beauty that was seemingly effortless (something you appreciated but had always envied). Bright red hair meshed well with smooth tanned skin, and a lithe form clad in casual jeans and a baggy t-shirt that somehow looked way better on him than it would on you. How was it possible someone looked so good doing a task as mundane as grocery shopping? Realizing that your eyes may have wandered for too long, you drew your eyes away from his form and back to his face.

You instantly regretted it when you saw the look of pure annoyance marring his handsome features.

Oh.

Obviously handsome boy was mad at you. Why, you had no idea. So taking it upon yourself to find out, you cleared your throat, and asked in clearest voice you could muster, "May I help you?”

He kissed his teeth, chuckling lowly, but something about the venom in his voice told you he didn’t find anything funny. “May I help you… Yes, you can actually. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re blocking the tomatoes.”

Annndd there it is. He just had to ruin it by opening his mouth didn’t he?

You looked around. You had, in fact been blocking anyone’s access to the tomatoes that were sitting in a crate next to the other vegetables in the produce aisle. An honest mistake, so what was his deal?

“Well, I’m sorry but you could’ve said something along the lines of… oh I don’t know, 'Excuse me,’…? There’s this thing called being polite, you know.”

You may have been struck silent by his looks at first but there was no way you were going to let some entitled prick walk all over you. Running a hand through his hair, he shifted his weight to his other foot and shot you a piercing glare before saying through teeth clenched tight, “Look I don’t have the time for this so could you kindly do me a favor and move to your left a little so I can just pick these up and go?”

Excuse me? Just who did he think he was? You take a moment to breathe because despite your anger, you will not get yourself thrown out of this grocery store for assault. You oblige him, taking a step back as you say, “Fine, there I moved. But do yourself a favor and learn some manners. You’re lucky I’m not in the mood for this shit tonight.”

“Uh-huh.” He muttered, not even sparing a glance at you as he inspected the tomatoes for selection.

Scoffing at his remark, your jaw hung open shocked by the sheer audacity of the man before you. You gave yourself a few more seconds to calm down before you closed your mouth and abruptly spun on your heels. You did not have the time nor the energy to argue with some dick in the grocery store so late at night. Swiveling around, you hurriedly stormed off to checkout, looking forward to going home and getting some sleep before class the next day. .

Three days later you were stumbling into your apartment, kicking your heels off into some random corner of the room to inevitably trip over later.

You dropped your purse at your feet as you collapsed into the soft cushions of your sofa, mentally and physically exhausted from the stress of the long week you just had. The unnecessary pressure from your boss to meet the deadlines eons away had built up so you were grateful that you had the weekend to recharge. At the moment, all you wanted to do was take a nice hot shower and curl up into your soft cotton sheets. Perhaps you would catch up on a couple episodes of your favorite TV show before bed as well.

Unfortunately, just as you settled into your couch, your phone decided to start buzzing. It took you awhile to locate the device from within the depths of your bag, but once you found it you weren’t surprised to see your best friend’s name displayed across the screen.

“Hello?” you grumbled into the phone.

“Sooo… how do you like the studio?”

Confusion marring your features, you questioned her. “What studio? What are you talking about?”

“Oh bitch. Bitchhh.Do not tell me you forgot. You do remember that I signed you up for dance lessons for Friday? Please tell me you remembered.”

You didn’t remember. But in your defense, what was she thinking signing you up for a class that met on Fridays of all days?

“____, I swear to god you better get your ass to that studio or I will drag you there myself. I don’t want to deal with you whining to me about your shitty dancing anymore, so move it. You still have half an hour before the class starts.”

“Okay, okay. I’m going, I’m going. Sheesh woman,” you said already making your way to your bedroom.

“Good. Tell me how it goes when your done! And don’t forget to have fun!” her voice almost too saccharinely sweet.

It amazes you how this woman can switch between an angel and the devil’s spawn in a matter of seconds.

As soon as you said your goodbyes you rummaged through your drawers for some comfortable your workout clothes. Stopping by the fridge for a water bottle, you headed toward your car, mentally preparing yourself for an hour of hell.

If you were going to suffer, might as well be hydrated.

And hell it was.

Because although you managed to make it to the class with 10 minutes to spare, you immediately regretted coming when your instructor for the evening walked in. That same prick from the grocery store entered the classroom, a bright smile on his face as he welcomed his students. You would of thought this man was a completely different person if it weren’t for the bright red hair that sat atop his head.

You tried everything in your power to avoid eye contact but it was too late. It was almost as if time has slowed down as you saw the expression on his face morph into shock the moment you two locked eyes. The brief moment between you two passed almost as fast as it came, though because in the next instant he was plastering a wide smile back on his face and moving to the front of the room to address the class.

You don’t remember much of his greeting. You managed to pick up that his name was Jung Hoseok. And he said something along the lines of “dancing is a form of self-expression” and “don’t be afraid if you can’t get the moves right away… have fun…“ But for the most part you had zoned out, contemplating the catastrophe that was your life. Fuck me.

It was just your luck that you managed to get him as your dance instructor. If it weren’t for the fact that you had already paid you would have left already.

Unfortunately, you were just going to have to try avoiding the man for the next hour or so. After that you were never stepping foot in this studio ever again.

Avoiding Hoseok wasn’t all that hard considering the fact that once he started, his sole attention was dedicated to concentrating on teaching the choreography. That and you had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying just as hard to avoid all eye contact with you as you were with him.

While the music played he stood at the front of the class, teaching you all a simple choreography that went along with a high-tempo hip hop beat.

Although you took a place at the back of the class, it didn’t completely eliminate your anxiety of dancing in front of complete strangers. It was irrational to think that anyone would pay you any attention when everyone’s focus was likely to be on trying to get their own moves right. The class was diverse, with people younger, older and around your age there but it seemed as if everyone else was doing so much better than you as you struggled to keep up with the steps.

It was just your luck (which was minimal these days) that at that moment, Hoseok called for a break. Thank god.

You propped your hands up on your hips, closing your eyes and rolling your head back to stretch out the muscles in your neck. Unfortunately, your moment of relaxation was interrupted because when you looked back up you were shocked to see Hoseok walking… right towards you? That couldn’t be right.

Despite ignoring your presence for the whole first half of the class, he seemed to be charging straight towards you. But just before he could reach you, a few members of the class ahead of you had intercepted him in his travels. Phew.

Dodged a bullet there. You’re not sure what he was going to say to you, but you’re completely sure you didn’t want to hear it. Taking that time to escape, you took a seat near the back of the room and pulled out your phone to text Chaeyoung.

You: It was a big mistake coming here. [7:47]

Chae: Why, What’s wrong? [7:48]

You: Remember that dick I told you about?

You: The one from the grocery store? [7:48]

Chae: Yeah… [7:50]

Chae: Oh no, don’t tell me he’s there??

You: Oh he’s here alright.

You: He’s the goddamn dance teacher for christ’s sake. I mean, what are the odds, right?!? [7:50]

You chanced a small glance over your shoulder and heaved a sigh of relief when you saw Hoseok was still engaged in small talk with some chatty women. And judging by the way their hands lingered on his arm and the exaggerated laughs in response to his jokes, it was fair to say they weren’t just interested in the art of dance, but instead the art of the dance teacher. Don’t be fooled ladies, bad things sometimes come in good packages. You learned that the hard way.

Looking back at your phone you read the recent message from Chaeyoung.

Chae: Wow, what a coincidence

Chae: But he can’t be that bad right? [7:53]

You: Not that bad? Were you listening when I told you the story the other day? [7:53]

Chae: I was but i really think ur just being overdramatic, like always. I mean, the guy just wanted his radishes and u were in the way [7:56]

You: Tomatoes, Chae. He wanted tomatoes.

You: And 'like always’..?!? Are you my friend or his??! [7:57]

Chae: Whatever. Istg you’re so stubborn sometimes

Chae: Just give him a chance. He must be good at his job and you need all the help you can get. ;) [7:58]

You leave her on read as Hoseok calls the class back to his attention. Overdramatic my ass, you think as you get back in line. Only half an hour more of this and then I’m through. That’s it. They couldn’t convince you to come back here even if they paid you.

By some miracle you manage to make it through the rest of the class.

Luckily Hoseok had chosen songs with slower rhythms as opposed to the upbeat choreography he was teaching in the beginning half of class.

Hoseok thanked the participants for attending, and if you weren’t in such a rush to get out of there you would have appreciated his sincere closing remarks. Alas, that wasn’t the case and no sooner than Hoseok stopped talking were you sprinting to the back wall to gather your belongings.

Gathering up your water bottle, your phone and purse, not even bothering to shove the items into your bag, you turned on your heel and made a mad dash for the exit, hoping to avoid Hoseok’s gaze as you escaped with the crowd. But fate seemed to have a different plan for you, as it always did, because no sooner had you turned around were you barreling straight into a firm chest. One glance up led you to determine that it was Hoseok’s chest to be exact.

Luck really said fuck you and took her leave didn’t she.

Taking a step back you steeled yourself and channeled all the energy you had left into a glare you hoped conveyed that you really weren’t in the mood for his bullshit today.

"Yes?” You glowered up at him.

He chuckled softly. Chuckled. You really didn’t find anything funny about this situation. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Pretty fucking awkward to say the least.

“This some type of revenge scheme of yours? Watching my every move so you can best plot when to strike? I didn’t realize I pissed off a stalker the other night. I should really be careful about who I make angry in the future.” He says, smirk apparent in his tone.

“No, actually. Believe it or not, I’ve got better things to do than go around stalking assholes like you.”

“And that includes taking my dance classes…?”

This cocky bastard. Scoffing, you square your shoulders and push past him heading right for the exit.

Unfortunately for you, your second attempt at escape was foiled yet again by Hoseok, a hand on your wrist preventing you from leaving.

"Hey… wait, I was just joking. Listen, I’m sorry if I was rude the other night. I think it’s great that your taking my class though. Did you have fun?”

You snort, shucking his hand off your wrist and saying, “You’re only saying that because I’m paying you. Can’t be mean to paying customers, now can we?”

“That’s part of it, yeah,” He says, the corner of his mouth tilting up at the side but at the roll of your eyes he backtracks.

“Kidding! Kidding.” He panics, hands up to placate you. “But seriously, I’m sorry for the way I acted the other night. It wasn’t me. I was going through some shit and I… look it doesn’t matter. I had no right to be rude to you over some fucking vegetables. So will you please accept my apology so we can start fresh?”

At this point you were tired, sweaty and all you wanted to do was go home, take a nice hot shower and curl up in your soft linen sheets. Plus, his apology seemed genuine. And you didn’t want to admit it but perhaps Chaeyoung was right when she said you could be a tad over-dramatic at times.

So, with a huff of your breath, you went the drama free route for once and accepted his apology.

“Okay. But consider this your last chance so don’t fuck it up.”

“Trust me, I won’t. You won’t ever see me acting like that again. I had a bad day and I took it out on you which was in no way acceptable. How about we turn over a new leaf? Sound good?” At your nod of affirmation, he presses on, “So how did you like the class?”

You took a moment before you answered. Should you tell him the truth? That you absolutely hated it? That you had already decided you were not coming back? Or should you lie and say you loved it, only for him to be surprised when you didn’t show up the next week, or the following week, or the week after that…

“It was good. You’re a great teacher. It’s just… I don’t know. Dancing just isn’t for me.” You decided to go with the truth but you wanted to make sure he knew it had nothing to do with his teaching.

“Isn’t that why you took this class? To get better?” he asked with a confused crinkle of his brow and a tilt to his head.

He had a good point. “Yeah, but… I don’t know. I guess it’s just my own insecurities holding me back. I feel like a fool in a room full of swans.”

“Swans?” He snorts. “Were you in the same room as me for this last hour? The woman in the front row would’ve taken my eye out at one point if I hadn’t dodged her leg in time. Trust me, you’re all equally terrible.”

By this point you two are the only ones in the room but surprisingly it’s not as uncomfortable as you’d imagine it to be.

You’re not sure how to respond so you say dumbly,

“Uh…thanks??”

“You’re very welcome.” He says with a smile and a pat to your shoulder.

You shake your head in disbelief of the man. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

He scoffs, placing his hand over his heart in mock outrage. “Ouch, you wound me. Come on, you don’t really think so low of me do you?”

“I’ll tell you what, considering when I first met you, no. You were a huge fucking dick then, but now??” You place a finger on your chin as if considering his rank to you now.

“You’ve been demoted to just an average dick. Four or five inches maybe?” You tease.

“I don’t know whether I should be offended or not but I’m gonna choose not for fear of starting another argument. But listen,” he says tone turning serious, “you weren’t that bad from what I could see of you. You weren’t good, but certainly not terrible. You managed to keep up with a lot of the steps.”

“How would you know? You didn’t even look in my direction the whole hour!”

“Not true. I did glance at you a couple times. But you had a scowl on your face the entire time so I knew you were still pissed at me from that other night. Your energy… it was killing my vibe.”

“And you wonder why I still consider you slightly dick-ish.”

A roll of his eyes was his only response, choosing instead to elaborate on his earlier comment. “Look, if you’re really that uncomfortable being in a group setting you can always sign up for private lessons.”

“Private lessons? With you?” “Yes, with me.” He said with yet another eye roll, but he was smiling so you could tell he wasn’t really annoyed.

Private lessons did sound nice. Dancing in front of one stranger was always better than dancing in front of a whole group of strangers. But that would mean you would be alone, with Hoseok. Although you hated to admit it, dude was attractive and he turned out to have a better personality than you’d initially thought. Yeah, the coward in you said you were going to have to pass on this.

“It’s gonna be a no for me, thanks for the offer, but I’m good, really.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise but all he says is “Okay, that’s fine. Just do what works for you.”

“Thanks, I will,” you say tersely, hiking your bag up on your shoulder. The comfortable mood from earlier seems to have dissipated just as soon as it settled, and you take that as your cue to leave.

“I’m gonna head out now.”

“Right, it is getting late.” He says with a polite wave.

But he seems to have forgotten something because when you turn the knob on the door you hear a sudden “Oh!” from behind you. You turn to look at him.

“I didn’t get your name. I introduced myself at the start of class but I’ll do it again in case you were too busy plotting my death to notice. I’m Hoseok.” He extends his hand for a shake, expression expectant, probably waiting on you to introduce yourself as well.

You did remember his introduction at the beginning of class and you thought it was only fair that you tell him your name given the fact that you no longer wanted him to burn in the pits of hellyou guys were on good terms now.

“___. And sorry, I didn’t realize my glare was that obvious. I’ll try to be less subtle next time.”

“___. Nice to meet you under better circumstances. Hopefully there won’t be a next time, for my sake at least. So, I’ll see you next Friday then?”

“Yeah… see you.” It was a lie. You knew damn well that this would be the last time you stepped foot in this studio. Screw Chaeyoung and the hell you would receive from her for quitting.

With a final goodbye he sent you off with a blinding smile and a wave of his hand.

Turning swiftly on your heel, you threw him one last tight smile over your shoulder before you exited the studio, grateful that this night was finally over. .

“I’m sorry, come again?”

“Jesus woman, lower your voice! I have neighbors!” Typical. And she calls you overdramatic.

“Fuck the neighbors. Let me get this straight.” She says. "Hot guy wants to spend time with you and you turn him down because of… what exactly?“

"First of all, he doesn’t want to spend time with me. I’d be paying him for private lessons. That’s all.” you explain.

“Potato, potahtoe. Why would you pass up the opportunity to get some one-on-one lessons from a hot instructor?”

You currently sat across from Chaeyoung, the two of you curled up on your couch together. You were supposed to be on a bad 90s movie marathon until the topic of your first (and last) dance class came up.

“Because,” you began, “Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he’s not a grade-A douchebag.”

The look she sent you for that last comment immediately translated to 'cut the bullshit’. She knew you were lying. Curse you for being so accustomed to telling her everything. You told her all the details from the fated night at dance class over the phone the next day, but in hindsight you could have saved the part where Hoseok turned out to be somewhat of a decent guy to yourself.

“Hon, you know you need these lessons. And if you’re too afraid to dance in front of a group why not just get the private lessons? Plus, you need to get out of the house more. You’re always either studying or at work these days. A hobby will hopefully distract you and get rid of some of that stress. And you know what else gets rid of stress? Fu-”

“Quiet woman! I need to think.”

Despite that last comment, she was right. Chaeyoung being right was becoming a recurring theme in your life and you didn’t like it. But it was a rare occasion that you had any time for yourself, let alone anyone else these days. Although it was your last semester your professors had been unrelenting, you seemed to be getting double the work as in previous years. In addition, your nearly inflexible work schedule and crappy boss hadn’t made things any better.

Shoulder slumped, you admitted defeat.

Shock replaced her features. “I’m sorry what?”

“I said you’re right okay? God, why is it so hard to admit that to you?”

Chae let out an excited giggle, hand coming up to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry it’s just, that’s the second time this week that you didn’t argue back with me. Allow me to enjoy this will you? Anyways, does this mean you’ll suck it up and go back?”

You slowly nodded your head, muttering a 'yes’ under your breath. You figured the lessons would allow you to learn how to do something you’ve always wanted to do while providing you with a good way to relieve all of your pent up stress.

She leaned forward to give you a brief hug before leaning back to say, “Hey, I’m proud of you. We’ll sign you up for the private lessons later. Let’s move onto more important topics. So what does this guy look like anyways? Let’s see if he’s as attractive as you say he is.”

“It’s not like I have a picture of him saved anywhere. I didn’t get his number or his social media.”

Sighing, she whips out her phone, not even looking at you when she asks, “What’s his name?”

“Huh? Jung Hoseok, but I don’t see how that will help. It’s not like you can–”

“Found him!” And she’s moving closer to you to show you her phone.

“You said he has red hair right? This him?”

You take a look at her phone, the Instagram page of the one and only Jung Hoseok displayed on the screen.

His instagram is filled with pictures and videos of him at the studio leading dance practices or performing some kind of choreography. Then there are the typical pictures you would expect of any instagram user. Selfies of him out with friends, food, the scenery. He must have died his hair regularly- in some pictures he had the red hair he had currently, in others it was brown, and even blonde at one point.

“Damn. This is him? Hold on.. maybe I should sign up for lessons too.”

“Please,” you scoff and hit her arm. “I’m concerned enough about your vagina already. Please don’t add more guys to the mix, especially not my dance teacher.”

“Relax I was joking. Mostly. And don’t be concerned about me, my vagina’s doing just fine. You should be concerned about your own dried up puss. How long has it been since she’s gotten a good plowing?”

You shake your head at her, redirecting your attention to the TV.

“I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

Chae flings her arms around you. “Because you love me and no matter what you say, I’m still your favorite person in the world.”

You smile, humming in acknowledgement. “I guess,” you say, defeated. “Now shut up and let me watch my bad movies in peace.” .

The following week you find yourself back in the same dance studio.

Before she left your house that night, Chaeyoung made sure that she witnessed you make an appointment for the next available private lesson with Hoseok. This is how you wound up here at the dance studio at 7pm on a Tuesday night.

You take a seat on the floor of your designated room for the night, as you still have about ten minutes until your lesson starts.

Hoseok isn’t here yet and you pray to god he doesn’t show up so you can just go home.

Pulling out your phone, you open up your music playlist. After the first group dance class, you had went home and downloaded the songs Hoseok had used. You figured that even if you weren’t going back to the class, at least you got a few new songs to listen to. Hoseok actually had a pretty good taste in music, which you guess wasn’t surprising considering his job as a dance instructor.

You lazily scrolled through your playlist, stopping when you came across one of the songs you recently added. It was one of the slower-tempo songs that Hoseok had used in his last class. You could still remember some of the choreography clearly, simply because of how badly you butchered the steps. Feeling brave, with no audience to witness your wild flailing limbs and uncoordinated movements, you turned up the volume on your phone and stood up from your position on the floor.

Doing your best to execute the choreography that Hoseok had taught you all from your very first class, you went into the first movement.

Just then the door to the studio burst open and you nearly jumped out of your skin from how hard it had startled you. Placing a hand on your chest as if it would somehow calm the rapid beating of your heart, you whirled around facing the source of the loud intrusion.

It was Hoseok, standing in the doorway with his duffel bag on his shoulder and a slight smirk making its way onto his face. You rushed over to your phone on the floor, picking it up and turning off the music that was still blaring in the otherwise quiet room. However, your frantic actions must have prompted Hoseok to speak.

“Got started without me, did you? It’s okay, don’t stop on my account. Just act like I’m not even here.”

As you disconnected your phone from the speaker, you shot him a quick glare before locking your phone and placing it on top of your bag by the wall of the studio.

“Let’s just get this hour over with. And please, try to keep your smart comments to yourself.”

“And the ice queen returns. What happened to our heart to heart the other night? Did you forget already?,” he said with a grin so wide you wanted to box it right off his face.

"No it’s just that I’m only allowed to be nice for very brief moments in time or else I’ll spontaneously combust. So are you just gonna stand there and look dumb or are you gonna teach me something? I’m not paying you for nothing.”

“Right you are. Lemme just get set up and we can begin, mmkay?”

Once he sets his duffle bag down and connects his phone to the speakers in the room he turns to you.

“Why don’t we start with the same song you were just practicing to.” He says scrolling through the phone in his hand.

He presses play and the song starts playing through the speakers like it was a moment ago. He stares at you expectantly.

“What?”

“Well, show me what you were doing before I came in.” You don’t know what you were expecting because in all honesty this was what a one on one dance lesson entailed. It was inevitable that you would actually have to dance in front of him in order for him to help you. But still, you were nothing if not stubborn.

“Can’t you just teach me some steps and I’ll try to keep up? Like in your group sessions?”

“___, the benefit of having private lessons is that I can focus on you. I need to get a baseline to see where you are before I give you anything too hard.”

You’re silent for a moment. It was better to rip off this band-aid sooner rather than later. Embarrass yourself in front of him now and get rid of this awkwardness that still remained between you two. Making up your mind, you tell him to restart the song.

You get in the starting position while Hoseok moves back in the room to give you more space. As the music starts again you repeat the steps you went through earlier, trying your hardest not to mess up.

The whole time you run through the choreography you feel completely uncomfortable, feeling Hoseok’s stare on your form from behind. About a minute in, just when you start to forget the next couple steps, he cuts the music.

You turn around to see him setting his phone down once again. He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just leisurely takes a few sips of his water before turning to you. You have half a mind he’s doing this on purpose just to see you squirm.

“Well, not gonna lie that was bad.”

“I’m leaving.” you say already moving towards the door.

“Wait, wait let me finish. It was bad, yes, but it wasn’t terrible.”

“Gee, thanks.” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“I’m being serious. Trust me I’ve seen far, far worse. You have a general sense of rhythm but you don’t always know where to direct it at times. Your movements aren’t fluid. Too jerky in some areas, smooth in others. You need to loosen up. You’re too stiff. Just relax and feel the music.” He presses play again and this time demonstrates the first couple steps before motioning for you to try again.

You are reluctant to do so but comply anyway because it is what Chaeyoung would want. She’s not here right now, but you have no doubt she’ll know you didn’t give it your all the next time you see her.

And you fear the consequences of that interaction more than your current predicament. Note to self: rethink this entire friendship dynamic asap. ___

The rest of the lesson goes by smoothly, surprisingly. Hoseok demonstrates the choreography while you try to keep up, him stopping you every now and then to correct you.

Halfway through the lesson, when Hoseok called for a water break, the door to your studio swings open. A lithe brunette man appears in the doorway, only to double-take when he sees you and Hoseok inside, before he starts apologizing profusely.

“Ah, sorry hyung, I thought I was in here today.”

“No worries Jimin. I think you’re in room 211 today,” Hoseok replies, before glancing at you. “Jimin, this is ___, ___ , Jimin. He’s the one of the contemporary dancers here.” he says, gesturing between the two of you.

Jimin. Why did that name sound familiar? Was this the guy Chae was talking about? The one she met at the club?

“Nice to meet you, Jimin,” you say kindly.

“It was a pleasure meeting you too ___.” And you don’t know if it was just you but you swear there was a glint to his eyes and a slight curl of his lip that made this baby-faced man seem so much more tantalizing. But before you could ponder this further, Jimin was speaking again.

“Unfortunately I have to get going now or I’m going to be late for an appointment. The mom’s a nightmare — wants her kid to be the next Maddie Ziegler. Tough luck cause little Sarah’s got two left feet. Don’t tell her mom though, she’s loaded and I need the money. Anyways, I gotta go. Hope to see you around sometime ___! Later Hoseok!” He calls with a wave, already out the door in a matter of seconds.

Hoseok chuckles softly at that, shaking his head slightly.

“He seems nice,” you say. “Why couldn’t I have gotten him instead of you as a teacher?”

Hoseok pins you with a look. “Because, contrary to popular belief, I don’t think contemporary dance would do you much good in a club. Unless it’s an underground jazz club. Maybe not even then,” he shrugs.

Why didn’t you just lie when he asked you why you were taking lessons earlier? It was already embarrassing enough being here dancing in front of him, and now he knows you’re here just because you wanna know how to throw it back in the club.

Apparently, your silence in response to his comment was his cue to keep talking.

“But anyways, Jimin may look like an angel but he’s everything but. You’re better off with me.”

“Oh, like you’re some saint.”

“As holy as Lucifer,” he smiles.

“The fallen an-”

“Less talking, more dancing. Come on we still have like 15 more minutes.” he says, cutting you off by turning the music back on.

Needless to say, the dance lesson wasn’t as bad as you had expected it to be. A couple days later you and Chaeyoung finally have a chance to catch up and you tell her all about your first lesson. You mention the brunette haired boy, Jimin you think his name was, and she tells you that that was in fact the guy she met at the club. Apparently, your first impression of the man was correct. Chae tells you he’s a huge charmer, can flirt the pants off any woman, or man, for that matter. You think it’s his eyes, they draw you in like a predator hunting its next prey.

She encourages you to go back for more lessons, even if its just to get a chance to “sample the merchandise” as she put it.

You do find yourself going back the next time and the week after that. Not to “sample the merchandise” or whatever the fuck, but because of your dedication to getting better. Soon enough you have been attending the lessons for a little over a month. You find that each time you go the embarrassment of having to dance in front of Hoseok dissipates little by little.

You even discover that Hoseok is not that bad to be around. He’s funny and despite your fears of him laughing in your face when you mess up he’s surprisingly polite. He doesn’t scoff or sneer when you miss a step, instead he’s attentive, sweet even, as he helps you correct your form.

You start to notice a difference in yourself as well. Even if only by a fraction. You aren’t a professional-level dancer yet (nor do you think you’ll ever get to that level, but that’s okay) but you’ve come a long way from where you started. It makes you feel proud that you are finally doing something for yourself. Something you always wanted to do but never had the chance to.

One night however, Hoseok decides to change things up from your usual way of doing things.

You enter the studio, the first one there as usual, and you put down your things before you start stretching to get your body warmed up for vigorous exercise. It had been something Hoseok suggested you do when you had started complaining about having cramps after sessions.

It is when you are bending over, hands touching your toes to stretch your hamstrings that you hear the door swing open. At the low whistle that comes from behind you, you jerk upright and turn around, sending a glare to the man standing in the doorway.

“Perv,” you say through your teeth.

Hoseok sighs, defeated, “Guilty as charged, but can you blame me? If you don’t want to give me a show, face away from the door next time, yeah?”

You cross your arms over your chest and say, “I’m not paying you to ogle my ass. We’ve only got an hour and you’ve already wasted 5 minutes by showing up late.”

“It always comes back to money with you doesn’t it? I’m hurt.” You roll your eyes instead of responding and he uses this time to set his duffel bag down next to yours at the back of the room.

He squats down to fish his phone and aux cord out of his bag while he speaks.

“I want to try something different today.”

He’s not looking at you so he misses the suspicious look you send his way. “Different…how?”

“You said you’re here because you want to learn how to dance so you can go to the club right?”

“Yeah…?” you say, still not getting his point.

“Well everything I’ve been teaching you so far is way too advanced for a club. In all honesty, you don’t really need these lessons if that’s the reason you’re here, but you’re paying me so who am I to complain?”

You give him a pointed glare. “Your point, Hoseok. Get to it.”

“Right, all I’m saying is my lessons are useless in that kind of setting. So, I’m gonna teach you something else. Something useful.”

“Yeah? Well, something tells me I’m not gonna like this.”

Finally locating his phone and aux cord from within the depths of his bag, he fiddles with the speakers as he says,

“Oh trust me, you won’t.”

Suddenly a song you don’t recognize is playing through the speakers. It’s slow, much slower than the other songs you’ve practiced to. The rhythm is … sensual.

Too sensual.

Hoseok sets his phone down on his duffel bag in the corner of the room. You see him glance at you before he picks up the chair by the wall and walks toward you with it.

He sets the chair down behind you before coming back around to face you again. “You’re main problem is you’re lacking confidence. You need to have confidence to dance in the club – to dance period. To not care what anyone thinks about you because in that moment you’re free. It’s just you and the music.”

He takes in your expression. You’re still looking at him with suspicion, arms crossed over your chest and expression guarded.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve improved a hell of a lot these past few sessions, but you’re still not completely comfortable, I can tell. And your dancing is suffering from it.”

Clearing your throat, you ask defensively, “Okay, and?? What does this have to do with our lessons?”

“Well I can’t force you to gain confidence in your dancing but I can certainly help you try. Just try and follow my lead, okay?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, instead he pulls the chair up further and tells you to sit in it.

“What, why?!?” You protest. Did he really expect you to just go along with whatever he says without telling you what his plans were? He must not know who he’s dealing with.

Rolling his eyes, he repeats himself, “Just sit in it. We don’t have time for this.”

“Not until you tell me why I have to sit in the chair.” You say not backing of down.

He tilts his head back with a groan, looking thoroughly fed up with you. “God you’re so stubborn. Everything just has to be difficult with you doesn’t it?” He says more to himself than to you.

At this point the all too-sensual-fucking music still plays from the speakers and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you fearful of what was to come.

Hoseok finally peels his head back down from the ceiling to look at you and when he does his stare is intense.

You go to say something else but when he turns his gaze towards you it makes you hesitate.

You gulp.

“Why are you so stubborn, hmm?” And he takes a step closer to you.

“Do you like pissing me off? Is this fun for you, is that it?” Another step forward from him has you stepping back, suddenly not feeling as bold as you had been just moments ago.

“Hoseok, what are you-”

“Ahh, ahh, ahh…” he shushes you with a finger to your lips. “Don’t speak. You had your chance. It’s my turn now.”

You find yourself leaning as far back as possible to put some distance between the two of you, but when you step back again, your leg hits the chair, causing you to stumble.

A hand snakes around your waist, preventing you from a painful collision with the chair and the floor of his studio. A look of shock lights up your face as you look up at Hoseok, your voice truly stolen from you now.

“Careful, we don’t want you to get hurt, now do we? Why don’t you take a seat, hmm? Relax those legs a bit, you’ll need them later.”

This time Hoseok leaves you no room for debate as he eases you down into the chair himself. The music is still playing, and your nerves are higher than they ever have been during a lesson. This was Hoseok’s plan to get you to feel confident? If the sweat forming under your pits was any indication, he was doing a terrible job.

Hoseok stands before you, looking down at you in your seat.

“You need to loosen up. Dancing is all about feeling music. Letting the rhythm flow through your body as you feel it.”

He suddenly stands back a bit, swaying his hips to the beat of the music as it plays.

“Don’t think, just do what feels right.” At that he closes his eyes, head tilting back towards the ceiling once again, but he keeps the swaying to the music.

While his eyes are closed, you take the opportunity to get a good look at him. He really is in his element when he dances. There’s something about him that just looks so at peace – like he’s in his own little world that consists of just him, the music, and the sway of his body.

You drink in the movement of his hips all the way up to his exposed neck and that sharp jawline you finally had the chance to admire with his eyes closed. Instantly, you regret your ogling because it does nothing to quell the rising of your body temperature, or the heat between your thighs.

Things only get worse when you notice that he is getting closer to you. Stepping in time to the music, Hoseok is slowly inching his way towards you. He’s looking directly at you now, can see you squirming in your seat in an effort to put as much distance between you two as possible, and the corner of his mouth lifts up in a smirk. Oh he’s enjoying this, the bastard, a little too much if you’re being honest.

Suddenly, as the beat drops in the song, he’s propelling himself forward, effectively closing the last few inches of space between you two.

He’s leaning forward, devilish smirk on his face and a hand on the back of your chair, you’re face almost eye level with his chest as you look up at him pathetically.

“This is the type of dancing you’d most likely see in a club. Free, wild… seductive.”

By now the music has returned to it’s melodic rhythm and so does Hoseok. He begins swaying to the beat, rolling his body into yours in a way that can only resemble a lap dance to any onlookers.

One hand on the back of your chair, the other just lightly grazing the top of your knee as he moves, the smirk never leaving his face as he says, “Watch me. See how fluid I am with my movements? How I hear the music and let the notes flow through my body?”

He’s backing away from you now, only to circle your chair, not failing to drag his fingertips across your shoulders until he comes back around to face you again. He traces his arms down your forearms only to grab your hands and hold them in front of him while you continue to stare pathetically up at him.

“Think you can do that for me?” he asks, hopeful eyes shining back at you.

What is he talking about? No you can’t do that, that’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. This whole situation is bizarre and you snap out of you’re stupor to remind him that he’s supposed to be teaching you to dance, not… whatever this is.

“Hoseok,” you say, “I’m not paying you to give me a lap dance.”

“Oh, I know,” he nods, “You’re gonna give me one.”

Before you even have a chance to ask him what in the hell he’s talking about he’s hiking you up onto your feet and plopping himself down into the chair instead.

He looks smug as he sits, legs spread wide in that obnoxious way that guys do and hands in his lap. He stares up at you blankly.

“Well…” he pats his thighs, “Get to it then.”

You stare at him incredulously for a moment before you burst into laughter. The unhinged notes of your laugh almost sound out of place amidst the music that still plays in the background.

“You’re kidding right? You’ve got to be kidding.”

When his facial expression remains serious you realize that he’s not kidding. You still. “You’re not kidding.” You cross your arms over your chest, turning towards the door. “Okay I’m actually leaving...,” you say for the second time that night.

Before you can get too far, however, arms snake around your waist and you find yourself rooted to the spot.

“You wanted my help, well this is what my help looks like. Ultimately, it’s your own choice, you don’t have to do this but trust me, this lesson is just as beneficial to you as any other, maybe even more.”

You hang your head down, sighing in defeat but not ready to give up just yet. “How do I know you’re not just doing this for your own perverted gain?”

He lifts his hands up by his sides and says, “You have my word. This is purely for your own benefit and not for my own personal gain at all. Scout’s honor.”

You reluctantly relent, softening your demeanor a little by unfolding you’re crossed arms from your chest.

Hoseok calms at that, seeing that you are staying.

“Plus,” he adds, “No offense, but if I wanted a good lap dance I’d just go to the strip club.”

You turn to leave again but Hoseok is grabbing your wrist preventing you from straying far yet again. He’s doing that a lot tonight. Being overly touchy-feely. You can’t say you’re complaining.

“Kidding, kidding. Geez, your finicky. Come on, at least just try for me.”

You turn around in his arms and sigh. “Alright… well, what do you want me to do?”

“Just feel the music and do whatever feels right.”

Confidence. Just have confidence, you say to yourself. You put your hands on the back of his chair, as he had done earlier but after that you freeze. You don’t know what to do. It seems like you can’t even hear the music at all with how hard you’re heart is pounding in your ears.

Hoseok must have noticed your hesitance as he puts his hands on your wrists which causes you to look at him.

“Hey, just breathe. It’s just me, you and the music.”

He places your hands on his shoulders and his arms at your sides pull your hips closer to him. As the music plays, his arms around your waist guide you into a soft sway along to the beat.

“See? Not so bad, is it?”

You shake your head at him, still a little timid but starting to move your hips along to the music on your own.

Feeling more emboldened as time passes, you pull back from him a little, and let the music guide your movements. Your hands drop to your sides, slowly dragging them up your body as you continue your hypnotic sway from side to side. You try to channel all of the grace and sex appeal of your favorite female artists into your movements, imagining a movement and forcing your body to execute it exactly.

At first you don’t pay attention to Hoseok, your eyes opting to drift closed so you can focus on hearing the music and translating it into dancing. But at the sound of someone clearing their throat your head snaps back up to stare at the man sitting directly before you.

Big mistake. His eyes are focused on you, staring intently at you and every move you make. It causes you to falter a bit in your movements, but you quickly recover, not wanting him to notice how much he affects you. He looks… uncomfortable? Weird because you’ve never seen him look like that before, ever. He’s always the picture of calm, cool and collected. But now… now his eyes are blown out, pupils wide and…you could swear you saw his eyes flicker over your frame once before he wets his lips and shifts in his seat.

Mostly because you want to get away from his heated gaze but partly because you feel strangely emboldened by his reaction you begin to tease him more, starting a slow walk around the chair like he had done to you earlier. Unfortunately for you, he can still see you in the mirrored wall of the studio and he is looking straight at you, the intensity of his gaze never wavering. You meet his eyes with a stare of your own, the room silent except for the music that plays softly in the background.

It’s almost as if you are in some sort of competition. As if he’s testing you to see whether you really have the guts to do what he asked of you. And if there was one thing about you, it was the fact that you really, really liked to prove people wrong.

Biting your lip, you tentatively place your hands on the back of his chair, the tips of your fingers lightly touching the top of his shoulders.

To your surprise, he captures your fingers in his own hands, dragging your hands down to rest properly around his neck. At this point, you are just slightly swaying in time to the beat of the music, nerves shooting through your body at a rapid pace. Your eyes fall close, head tilted down at your toes in favor of looking at him.

However, your head snaps back up again once he speaks.

“You’re doing well. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Well, piss me off and this is what happens.”

“Really? That’s all it takes? A couple fighting words and you’re moving like this? Remind me to piss you off more often then.”

“Please don’t. Between you and my best friend I don’t think my blood pressure can take much more than this. Any higher and I’m finished.”

He chuckles lowly and your too busy admiring the deep timbre of his laugh so close to your ear that you don’t notice he’s pulling you around to face him until your standing right in front of him again.

His hands find their way to your hips but this time they’re timid. You freeze, standing between his parted legs, so close, your hands braced against his shoulders as you stare down at him. He seems to be just as frozen, seemingly shocked still by the proximity of your body to his. His hands maintain their light hold on your hips, not wanting to push you farther than your willing to go, as if he’s waiting on you to make your next move. It’s cute… his hesitance. He’s being polite, an action you’d never expect to come out of the usually cocky man sitting before you, and your thankful. It gives you the much needed confidence to continue, your movements becoming bolder, raunchier.

And suddenly you’re pushing off from him, wrapping your arms around yourself as your move in time to the music. You don’t watch him for long though, it’ll only make you more nervous than you already are. You can already feel that sudden burst of confidence starting to dwindle but you don’t want to give in to nerves now. You’ve come to far.

You spin around, continuing with that same sensual sway before you bend over suddenly at the drop of a beat, your head down by your knees and your hand at your feet. You don’t know where all this is coming from. How you are doing it. You must be pulling from the mental compartment of all the dance moves from female artists you had admired but could never pull off.

Whatever the case may be, you know one thing for certain, you are doing what feels right. It’s just you and the music and your body is responding to it. What you have yet to realize, however, is that the man in the chair is also responding to something. And it isn’t the music.

_____

Hoseok watches as you slowly drag yourself back up, turning yourself around to face him again. The whole time he just has a front row to seat to your ass. I mean it’s just there. He’s starting to think this was a bad idea, but in his defense, he didn’t know you’d turn out to be such a fucking tease. Once you let your guard down, he couldn’t deny that you actually had some moves. There was some rhythm in your bones somewhere. Buried deep, deep down beneath all that ice.

But soon Hoseok is losing focus again as your shimmying turns into a slow stalk towards him. Your face – determined, concentrated, his – apprehensive, and so unbelievably turned on.

You grab for the back of his neck with one hand, drawing your faces close, as you sink down on his thigh, beginning a slow grind there.

Yep, definitely a bad idea, he thinks.

Where was all this coming from? You had to be fucking with him. You must’ve known how to dance all along because this is ridiculous. No, it’s ridiculous how turned on he is right now and you haven’t even done much but move your hips.

Well, now you’re grinding said hips on his thigh and that’s ten times more distracting. It doesn’t make sense really. He’s seen way better dancers – at strips clubs, some of his fellow coworkers, hell even some of the half-drunken girls at parties he’s been to. He’s seen all the tricks, the way they oozed sexuality with each and every movement. But there was something about you that held him hostage. He was intoxicated. By what he doesn’t know.

It must be your eyes. So dark and captivating, yet so innocent at the same time. Or maybe it was the fact that you did prove him wrong. And he didn’t know whether to be thankful or resent the fact that you did…

He’s not sure, but for the life of him he hopes you don’t notice his body’s reaction in response to your actions.

_____

Holy shit, you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing. Grabbing his neck and taking a seat on his lap seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that you’re behind made contact with his thighs? Different story. But still…you want to prove him wrong. Not just that, you want to prove to yourself that you could do this. So, summoning all the courage you had left in you, you ground down on him. Your hand still holding his neck, your faces mere inches apart as you ground your hips into his crotch. The shocked expression on his face and his blown out pupils only encouraged you, urging you to move faster, grind just a bit harder.

"You didn’t tell me you could move like this,” he mutters lowly, so lowly that if anyone else were to be in the room, only you would be able to hear him.

You falter slightly, not expecting his voice because it felt like ages ago since either one of you spoke. However, you quickly recover, composing yourself to reply to him.

“I didn’t know I could.”

He glances down, then back up. “Clearly you can.”

At this point your faces are even closer than you were before, nose to nose, and his hands have once again found their way to your waist. He doesn’t control your movements, as he did before, instead his hands seem to follow your lead, allowing you to remain in control.

The gesture is subtle, but you pick up on it nonetheless. It’s sweet, you think, how he’s not forcing you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, allowing you to be in control of your body.

You find yourself leaning forward, something about him drawing you in. You are staring into eyes and his intense gaze meets your own right back. You also find that your lower half has migrated from the end of his thighs to closer and closer to his crotch. And what you find there makes your breath hitch, voice caught in your throat.

If he knows that you noticed the slight bulge forming in his pants he doesn’t say anything. And neither do you. Instead the both of you just continue to stare at each other. Your hips have halted all movement, the room silent except for your heavy breaths and the sound of the music in the background.

Your arms are still around his neck and the position is intimate so intimate, but you don’t pull away.

He looks up at you, bottom lip between his teeth, as he studies you, and he looks like he’s about to say something but at that moment the door to the studio swings open and you are scrambling off his lap in an instant. Your butt makes contact with the hard wood of the floor and you wince. Hoseok had been nice enough to try to save you from your inevitable fall but when he couldn’t he offers you a hand up instead.

Your eyes snap to the man in the doorway when you hear him start to speak.

“Sorry, am I… interrupting something?” The man queries, the expression on his face puzzled and slightly uncomfortable.

“No, not at all!” Hoseok blurts, then composes himself, “I was just in the middle of a lesson, what do you need Jungkook?”

“Sorry, uh right. I was wondering if you could cover my class tomorrow? The 8-10 year olds? I got a group assignment for school I can’t miss.”

“No problem. Why didn’t you just text me?”

“You weren’t answering your phone. I figured you were in here rehearsing like always, I didn’t know you had a lesson going on, sorry.” The kid does look sincerely remorseful for barging in on you guys but you couldn’t help but find his wide eyes and puppy-dog expression cute. Speaking of cute, you were starting to wonder whether being attractive was a requirement for working here because so far everyone you had come into contact with was insanely good-looking.

“It’s okay. I guess I didn’t tell you I had a lesson tonight.” He runs a hand through his hair, looking slightly out o breath even though he wasn’t the one dancing. Gesturing between you both, he introduces you to each other and says, “You have got to stop meeting my friends this way. But all this is telling me is that my friends lack manners and need to learn how to knock.”

Jungkook blushes, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he glances at you and gives you a small wave. Adorable.

You wave back, smiling politely as you ask him, “So Jungkook, you’re a dance instructor here too?”

“Yep. I mostly lead the children’s hip hop classes but I assist in the adult classes occasionally.”

Hoseok claps his hands together, “Alright, I think Jungkook’s intrusion wraps up our lesson. Kook I’ll see you later. Text me the details of the class so I know what I’m doing when I get there okay?” Jungkook nods his okay and they say their goodbyes. Once the door swings closed again Hoseok turns to see you have already started collecting your things.

“Your friends seem so much sweeter than you.”

“Here we go again, you assuming you know my friends better than I do when you don’t.”

“What?” you shrug. “The kid’s adorable. Like a cute little puppy.”

“Yeah, well sorry you’re stuck with me. JK doesn’t do private lessons.” You zip up your backpack and throw it over your shoulder as you stand, turning to face him. “Aww that’s too bad. Maybe I can get him to make an exception?” You put your finger to your chin in thought.

“You really didn’t do too bad today you know.”

You’re confused by the sudden change in topic but his next statement clears it up for you.

“Your dancing. It was actually… pretty good.”

You blush at the compliment. Really? He really thought you did well? You don’t know why you are surprised because you could obviously tell by his body language a few minutes ago that he was into it but…it felt good to hear him say it.

“Uh, thanks.” You say like an idiot. God why did words fail you at the most inopportune of times.

“No problem. See, I told you all you needed was a little push.”

You smile and nod at him again (like an idiot) but you can’t help it. You don’t know what to say. It’s like you were suddenly overwhelmed with a fresh wave of nerves.

“Well it’s getting late. I guess I’ll head out.”

“Right, uh, I-I’m gonna go now too. Uh, thanks again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He flashes his megawatt smile at you and you feel the butterflies stir.

Sending one more tight smile has way you turn on your heel and make your way to the door as quickly as you can without actually running.

God, what did you get yourself into?

A week later you are sitting at the shitty desk in the shitty building of your shitty job.

In case it wasn’t clear enough, you really didn’t like your job.

Originally you had took it because you thought it would be a good entryway into the publishing world. Turns out you were just doing the job of a glorified intern, answering phone calls, responding to emails, and (you guessed it) going on the occasional coffee run.

Fucking secretarial work. You should have known this is what you would be doing when you applied, really. You had thought this job would give you exposure to the world of writing, publishing, and editing but sadly you were wrong. The lengths of your exposure spanned asking a client what day of the week worked best for them to meet with a staff member to discuss their work.

Thankfully, with only one semester left in school, you wouldn’t have to wait long until you could apply for work that you actually wanted to do. Once you figured that out, exactly. At only 24, most people would say you were doing well for yourself, but you couldn’t help but feel as if life was passing you by and everyone was leaving you behind.

You took a break from school for a year to save up enough money to go back but when you did, it wasn’t easy. Who knew taking a year off could make it so hard to get back into the groove of things? You had to grind full time for awhile in order to catch up. In the meantime though, you were stuck here.

Currently, you were supposed to be responding to emails but you were attending to much more important business.

Chae: So y'all bumped and grinded on each other… and he almost kissed you. I’m struggling to see the downside to all this

You: I said it felt like we were gonna kiss, not 'he almost kissed me’ Big difference.

Chae: Sounds the same to me

You: And the downside is that now things are going to be awkward between us. We were actually starting to become cordial with each other, dare i say friends even. now that’s all shot to shit

Chae: It’s only awkward if you make it awkward ;)

You: Exactly! Have you met me?!

Chae: You’re overreacting! He obviously likes you so quit worrying.

You: Oh yeah? What makes you so sure of that?

Chae: He let you dance on him for 15 minutes and popped a stiffy from it. I think he likes you.

You: I have got to stop telling you every little thing about my life.

Chae: Try as hard as you want but I’ll pry it out of you sooner or later!

Just as you were about to type out a snarky reply in response, your phone pinged with the alert of a new message.

But it wasn’t from Chaeyoung.

It was from Hoseok.

Hoseok: Hey

And then, another ping, alerting you that second message had come in.

Hoseok: I’m so sorry, but I have to cancel our lesson tomorrow. I have a thing I gotta go to. Hope you understand :)

Great. Now he was cancelling on you. Must be trying to avoid you after what happened last session. Chaeyoung wasn’t always right, as she liked to believe.

You: Yeah, well if he likes me so much why did he cancel our lesson tomorrow?

Chae: What?

You: Yep. He cancelled just now. Said he had a 'thing’

Chae: Ppl have to go to 'things’ all the time. Relax. I can 100% bet that he still likes you

You: Sure (◔_◔)

And that was the end of that conversation because eventually you did get back to work, even if all you did was pretend to organize the files in your already alphabetically-coded drawer. By the time it was time to clock out you were already packed up and ready to go, all you were waiting on was the clock to hit 6pm.

You had absolutely no plans today, a rare occasion that you got to go home and not have to worry about how you were going to finish several assignments for classes that you a) had little to no time on, or b) had ample time for but procrastinated on.

All you wanted was to go home and curl up in front of your couch with your dinner.

You gasped. Dinner. It was sad to say, but you had absolutely no food in your home to make a warm home cooked meal tonight. With your roommate having gone to visit her family back home, the house had been even emptier than usual. And you were too lazy to go grocery shopping tonight, it would have to wait until the weekend. So, as you got in your car you pondered your options for where you would be getting your next meal from.

There was a Korean place nearby that you had always wanted to try. You guess now was the perfect opportunity unless you wanted to go home and put together a dinner made out of cereal dust and cup ramen.

As appetizing as that sounded (it didn’t), you quickly changed lanes, heading for the restaurant a few miles away from you.

When you got there you were surprised. Not by the decor, or by the delicious smell of food wafting through the air, but because the man standing directly in front of you looked like your dance instructor. You hadn’t memorized the back of his head or anything, but you were pretty sure this was Hoseok standing in front of you and not some eerily similar doppelganger.

He stood in line waiting to order his food, hat pulled down low over his eyes and head buried in his phone. He hadn’t noticed you yet, thankfully, and you took this time to ponder whether you should make yourself known or just go home to your sad dinner of cereal flakes and cup noodles.

The last time you two talked you had turned into a awkward, stuttering mess, so wanting to save yourself the embarrassment of having to go through that again, you had decided to slip out as inconspicuously as possible.

No luck. Unfortunately, Hoseok chose that moment to look up from his phone, swiveling his neck around on his shoulders for a stretch.

You were backing away quietly toward the door so you saw the exact moment Hoseok recognized you, double taking to confirm that it was in fact you. You hear your name fall from his lips in question and you resist the urge to visibly wince.

“Hoseok!” You say feigning enthusiasm. “What’re you doing here?” The fake smile plastered on your face is probably terrifying.

“Just grabbing dinner. My buddy owns this place so I get a nice discount. You grabbing dinner too?”

“Yeah, yep.” Jesus, fuck. “Though I don’t have a friend who works here so I guess I’ll be paying full price.” How much longer did you have to endure this torture?

He laughs at that, and it does something weird to your stomach. The butterflies are acting up again, but this time it isn’t due to nerves.

“Listen, I’m really sorry I had to cancel our lesson. It’s just there’s something I forgot about and…”

You interject to help move the conversation along. You do not want to talk about dance, or lessons, or anything at all right now.

“Hey, no worries. I get it. You make me out to be way more devastated than I actually am.”

He laughs again saying, “Stop lying. You would’ve quit weeks ago if you didn’t like dancing at least a little.”

Maybe he was right. You don’t know. You certainly didn’t hate it as much as you did when you started, but love? Hmm, must be still getting there. You force your other theory, the one where you decided to keep up the lessons because of the person teaching them, down deep into the recesses of your brain.

You go to answer him but before any of you can say anything else, it’s Hoseok’s turn in line.

He greets the host comfortably, they seem to know each other, presumably because Hoseok’s friend owns the place and he must come here all the time.

“Jaehyun, haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

“Good, good. Me and the wife took a vacation away from the kids and lemme tell you, best sleep I’ve had in a long time. You still working for that crappy boss of yours?”

Crappy boss? As far as you knew Hoseok seemed to be comfortable with his job at the studio. You had even met the owner one time and she didn’t seem to be a total stick in the ass. In fact it was quite the opposite. You remember you had been running late to practice after work one day, struggling to lug your bag, your change of clothes and sneakers all into the studio. The owner had been passing by when she saw you and kindly offered to give you a hand. But then again, some people tended acted different towards their employees versus a paying customer.

“No, no I quit not too long ago. Seokjin here today?”

“Oh really? And yeah he’s in the back. I can go grab him for you if you want-” The host, Jaehyun says, already making his way to the back of the restaurant.

“No need. I’ll see him later no doubt.” Hoseok replies.

“Alright. You want the usual, to go?”

“Actually,” Hoseok glances at you,“I think I’ll eat here tonight. Can I get a table for two?”

“Sure, no problem.” You see Jaehyun’s eyes land on you standing awkwardly off to the side before they’re back on Hoseok, “Just give me a minute.”

You’re confused. Was Hoseok meeting up with someone? That’s the only plausible reason for him asking for a table for a table for two. You panic. What if he meeting up with a date? God you needed to hurry up and order your food so you could get the hell out of there.

But then Hoseok is turning to you, his eyes wide and hopeful.

“Have dinner with me?” he says.

“What?” You must have misheard.

He laughs, though this time you don’t know why. “I said have dinner with me. Come on, I could use the company. Unless… you have other plans?” And for a moment he looks disappointed.

Yeah, your other plans consisted of curling up on your couch and stuffing your face of bulgolgi but you don’t tell him that. In fact, you’re starting to think you must be a masochist because despite your nerves just a moment ago you agree to eat with him anyway.

“Uh, no. No plans.” you mumble.

“Great, so you’ll eat with me?”

You nod tentatively in response and that elicits a wide smile from him that lights up his face like the sun. You sigh, following Hoseok to a table near the back of the restaurant. You’re more whipped than you thought.

The food is good, oh my god it’s so good. Why hadn’t you come here sooner?

You’re in the middle of shoving another serving of pork belly into your mouth when Hoseok (who you had honestly forgotten was there) speaks.

“Whoa, slow down. A-are you even chewing? Please tell me you’re chewing and not just inhaling your food.”

You moan around a spoonful of sliced beef, rice, and vegetables, the spices meshing together and hitting your tongue just right. “Can’t talk. Eating.”

He shakes his head, attention now on his own food and making sure the meat on the grill between you doesn’t burn.

“Well, I’m glad you like it. I’ll have to put in a little extra for chef then. He never cooks like this when I’m by myself.”

You stop eating mid-chew, tearing your eyes away from the table to shoot him a look. “Hoseok, I don’t know if this is what I think you mean but you’re not paying for my food.”

“I already told you, it’s your first time here so don’t worry about it. Plus, it’s the least I can do for disrupting a busy woman such as yourself.”

Something about the twinkle in his eye and the smirk on his face while he says it gives you the impression that he knew you had absolutely nothing better to do tonight.

At his words, you momentarily forget your argument and say, “Excuse me. I’ll have you know I am very busy, okay? So drop the sarcasm. I had several plans lined up for tonight.” You huff indignantly.

“Oh yeah, like what?” he queries looking up at you in between turning the meet over on the grill.

Shit. “Like... you know. Stuff,” you shrug.

His light cackle fills the air and you would be more upset that he was laughing at you if said laugh didn’t warm your insides and bring a smile to your own lips.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been here before.”

“Me neither. And I’ll be beating myself up everyday for not having come sooner. This is fucking delicious.”

“Yeah, I know,” an amused expression crosses his face as he resumes watching you scarf down the rest of your meal. “Save some for me, yeah?”

“You snooze you lose.” Comes your retort, already reaching for your next mouthful of food. “You said you’re friend owns this place?”

“Yes he does. The friend’s name is Kim Seokjin. That’s me. I’m Kim Seokjin.” You register that another voice has entered the conversation and you look behind Hoseok to see a handsome man smiling brightly at the pair of you, his hands resting on good-naturedly on Hoseok’s shoulders.

“Glad to see you’re enjoying my food. If you’re going to get anything out of this date I’m glad it’s a good meal.” Seokjin says to you.

This time, you do choke. Coughing hysterically, you reach for your glass of water in an effort to clear your throat. Date? Hoseok’s friend thinks you were on a date.

Just great, add more fuel to your fantasies.

Hoseok blanches, looking back at Seokjin to clarify. “Seokjin, you know damn well I stopped bringing my dates here after what happened the last time.”He gestures to you, “This is ___. She does lessons with me.”

No longer coughing up a lung like a madwoman, you shyly wave in greeting when Seokjin looks your way.

“Nice to meet you ___. Ignore him, I’m sure anything I said at the time was perfectly appropriate.”

“You told her I can only get it up if we’re both cosplaying as titans from that weird cartoon you watch!”

“Anime, Hoseok, it’s called anime. And your kink is nothing to be ashamed of! There are plenty communities of people out there with the same fetish. I just had to give your date a warning in case she wasn’t into that sorta thing. I was only doing you a favor.” Seokjin shrugs.

Hoseok huffs in frustration and you chuckle quietly at their antics. Seokjin, hmm? So far you think you like this guy. You haven’t seen Hoseok this flustered in… ever.

The squabbling between the pair dies down and you tune back into the conversation when Seokjin turns serious.

“How’s things going at the firm 'seok? That place keeping you busy?”

All of a sudden Hoseok looks, nervous? And not the flustered kind of nervous he was just a moment ago when Seokjin was teasing him. He’s more anxious than anything. He brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck before he replies,

“Yeah, I uh… I quit actually.” he mutters sheepishly.

You think Seokjin’s eyes are going to pop out of his head with how far they bug out of their sockets. “Quit? What do you mean quit? Since when?”

Hoseok glares at the other man, as if trying to telepathically communicate that he should keep his voice down.

He elaborates, “I don’t know, about a month ago? Listen, it’s not a big deal.”

Seokjin bellows with laughter at that, a hand placed on Hoseok’s shoulder for balance as he doubles over in mirth. Once he comes to again, he wipes a tear from his eye dramatically and straightens up.

“Ha, good one. Not a big deal? Wasn’t that your old man’s dream for you your whole entire life and it’s 'not a big deal’?”

Hoseok winces at that and you’re starting to realize that this conversation is venturing into personal matters. Personal matters that are obviously a very touchy subject for Hoseok if his reaction is anything to go by.

“Yeah, well it’s not my old man’s life to live now is it?”

Hoseok says lowly and at that the conversation halts for several moments.

You’re thankful for the chatter of other patrons, the sounds of metal hitting ceramic, and the distant street noise coming from outside or this long lull in the conversation would have been way more awkward than it already is. You are beginning to wonder whether you should just leave enough money on the table to pay your half of the bill and go home but then Hoseok is speaking again.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that it’s just… I was tired of people telling me what I should be doing, especially my dad. So, I quit. I never liked that job anyway.”

Seokjin nods his head in understanding. “No, I get it. I’m glad you’re out actually. You always seemed so miserable there and you never had time to hang out anymore. I take it you’re at the studio full time now?”

“Yep. I’ve felt better than I have in a long time too. Despite being on my feet most days I feel like I have more energy than I ever have working in that hellhole.”

“Good. I’m proud of you. What did your dad say?”

That anxious look is back on Hoseok’s face.

“Funny story. I kind of… haven'ttoldhimyet.” The last part of his sentence is rushed and muttered under his breath but Seokjin still clearly manages to hear what he had said.

“You what?! Hoseok, you have to tell him! It’s gonna crush him but he needs to know.”

Hoseok swats at Seokjin’s head as if trying to shoo him away when he leaned closer to shout at the man sitting in the booth before him.

“I know, I’m working on it. I just need time. That’s why I didn’t tell you right away. You can’t your mouth shut for shit.” Seokjin places a hand on his chest, offended

“Excuse you I can keep secrets, especially the one you’re keeping from your dad right now. Just tell him soon, he’s gonna find out eventually.”

“I know, I’m just not ready yet. But I will be! Soon.”

Hoseok starts playing with fingers dejectedly and Seokjin looks down at him pityingly.

He looks so sad and small, and the sight tugs at your heart strings immensely. Suddenly Seokjin turns to you as if just now remembering you had been sitting there the entire time.

“I don’t think you can blame me for scaring off your date this time Hoseok. This was all you buddy.” Seokjin says with a pat to the other man’s shoulder, most likely trying to lighten the mood.

“Again, not a date. And I still blame you. You’re the one who asked me about my job.” Hoseok counters.

“Fine,” Seokjin brushes Hoseok off with a huff before he turns back to you. “But I still feel bad. Tell you what, I’ll throw in a free dessert, any one you want, on the house.”

“Oh it’s ok, you don’t have to-” you begin but Hoseok cuts you off.

“She’ll take it. She’s not even paying so I’ll take any discounts I can get.”

“Oh, well in that case, it’s standard price and extra for any extra toppings.” He turns back to you, “I recommend getting the sweet rice cakes with red bean paste. Absolutely delicious.”

Hoseok bristles. “Isn’t that the most expensive thing on the dessert men-”

“And with that I bid you all adew! Nice meeting you ___. And Hoseok, tell your dad about the thing!”

Seokjin shouts as he makes his way back to wherever the hell he came from. You barely had time to say goodbye as you watch him disappear toward the back of the restaurant.

You can’t help but smile as you observe Hoseok expression, elbows propped up on the table as he rubs his temples in annoyance.

“I like him,” you say decisively.

Hoseok still has his eyes closed when he replies.

“And the saga continues. How many more of my friends can you meet without taking an instant liking to them over me?”

“It depends, how many more friends do you have?”

His eyes snap open.

“None. No more. Seokjin was the last of ‘em. I’m a very lonely guy, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

You nod along dismissively. Hoseok was, generally, a very freindly guy (aside from that one fluke the first night you had met him), so you doubted any of that was true.

“Listen, I’m sorry you had to see all that. Seokjin just kept prying. He must’ve forgotten we were in public. Or he didn’t care,” a pause, “He just didn’t care.” he declares.

You decide not to give him a hard time especially after hearing some things he probably never meant for you to hear.

“Don’t apologize. I get it, we all have overbearing parents, some more so than others.”

He laughs bitterly, “Yeah, my dad’s one of the more overbearing types I guess. Fucking sucks, really.”

You give him a pitying smile to try and convey that you understand where he’s coming from but you don’t, not really.

Your parents had always been pretty supportive of you, always letting you try whatever little activity caught your eye only to inevitably drop it two weeks later in favor of a new one. Your dad had always said “Let the girl try it. It’ll build her character,” all those times your mom got fed up with your lack of commitment to any one thing. You tried basketball (no hand-eye coordination at all) and drawing (too meticulous) and martial arts (sports just weren’t your thing) until you found something you did like. Writing. You had always loved reading and writing, so much so that you had joined the neighborhood book club (that was only comprised of retirement aged grandmas and a sprinkle of middle aged moms) to discuss your favorite books. In high school, you had become an active participant in the creative writing club, even going so far as to become the vice-president in your senior year.

So no, it didn’t really make much sense to you when someone told you they had an overbearing parent. Why would you want to limit your child by putting them in a box of what you think he or she is capable of doing?

So, as you sit there and wonder what you’re life would have been like if your parents didn’t let you experience these things, Hoseok continues.

“My dad he’s… he’s not a bad guy it’s just, he’s got a fixed idea of what I should be doing with my life.”

“Ohh.” You blank in recognition. “Let me guess, you don’t want to do that do you?” you query.

Hoseok nods. “Ever since I was little he was always saying ‘go to college, study something practical, get a high paying job.’ It’s like he never stopped to consider what I wanted.”

You nod, finally understanding. “Sometimes people just want the best for their kids but they don’t realize that their hurting them in the process.”

Hoseok’s eyes glimmer with the excitement that someone finally gets it. “Exactly. I’d just wish he realize that what’s best for me is doing what I want to do, not living out whatever plan he had laid out for me.”

“And what is it? That you want to do?” You ask. The answer should be obvious.

It is obvious. The man looks like he lives and breathes dance. Often more times than not he is a couple minutes late to your lessons because he got held up rehearsing for his own showcase, or staying behind to help a few of his other students with a difficult part of the choreography. Whatever plan he has laid out for himself you know dancing is an integral part of it. That’s why it does not come as a surprise to you when he says,

“Dance. I love it.”

You gasp, sarcasm laced in your tone, “I never would’ve guessed!”

He smiles. “I’m not sure how far I can go with this. I just know that it comes as natural to me as breathing and I never want to stop. And I want to make a living doing something I love, ya know? God, forbid I get into a freak accident or something. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.” He chuckles but you don’t doubt for one second that he is dead serious. You admire his passion and his bravery for getting out there and actively seeking out what he wants. Most kids wouldn’t dare defy their parents, even if it means sacrificing their own happiness.

Hoseok didn’t, refused, to settle. It’s admirable.

“I’m proud of you.” you say seriously.

“What?”

“I said I’m proud of you. I know I’m not your dad and I don’t have some lifelong bond with you that would warrant you wanting my approval, but, if it means anything, I’m proud of you. For living your life the way you want to.”

He’s silent for a moment, seemingly awestruck by the fact that you didn’t say anything sarcastic, or slightly insulting, for once. It’s actually quite…nice. He’s not sure how to respond yet but his body warms a little inside at your remark.

“Uh, thanks. Yeah, i-it does mean something. Means a lot.” And he’s back to sheepish again, his face turning a cute shade of tomato red in response.

You learn a lot about Hoseok that night. He was two years older than you, for one, and apparently he had a degree in business analytics, which was… completely not Hoseok to say the least.

In other words it was extremely shocking to you, but it was something he had completed at the insistence of his father. He had been working in sales for about a year when he decided to call it quits. Ever since he’s been working at the studio full time as an instructor. He makes significantly less money now, but at least now he doesn’t dread the thought of waking up to go to a job he never liked in the first place.

He shows you his instagram page (something you had already studied extensively after that night Chaeyoung had discovered it) where he posts his original choreography and clips of the showcases he’s done. He tells you he’s been meaning to start up a YouTube channel where he can post longer clips and tutorials. The whole time he speaks rather excitedly about it all, like a little kid talking about their favorite cartoon. It’s endearing, seeing his eyes light up like stars as he talks about his goals. He even tells you he wants to open up his own studio one day, although something about the way he says it makes him seem unsure if of it’s possibility, uncertainty flooding his irises and replacing that shiny glimmer.

You tell him to go for it. You have full faith in him that he’ll have a studio to call his own in no time. You’ve seen the comments under his videos, praising him, begging him to upload step-by-step tutorials so they can learn the choreography for themselves. You have no doubt that anyone who’s serious about dance will want to train under him, you included. And so you tell him that. He’s already come this far, why stop now?

The conversation even ventures into your own career. Wherever that’s headed. You tell him you’re in your last semester of school and about you’re major in English literature. It’s something you always liked but you’ve been unsure of the kind of career you wanted to pursue. There seemed to be too many options, yet none at all. You weren’t conducive to teaching, if what happened in the 7th grade when you tried to tutor little Johnny from next door was anything to go by, then yeah – it was best you left teaching alone.

Hoseok tells you that you and his dad might get along. He was a literature teacher, though more of the Korean literature variety. He then asks you if you’d ever be an author. You like writing but how often do people become successful authors and make a decent living off of it?

“If you’re any good you’ll make it. You should let me read some of your work. I’m an honest critic, I swear.” Hoseok says. Hoseok is the last person you’ll ever let read your silly drabbles and poetic musings. Honest critic or not, there’s still something raw, vulnerable about letting anyone, let alone him, read your work.

And you hate to admit it but you had a feeling you’d value his opinion a little more than you’d like to.

You both continue to talk, your conversation surprisingly deep, as you finish up your meals. Hoseok had ended up ordering the sweet rice cakes even though you told him not to. But boy are you glad he didn’t listen. One bite in and you feel like you have died and gone straight to sticky rice heaven.

Hoseok also gets away with paying the bill, despite your loud protests against it. Although you do manage to slip him a twenty, refusing to take another lesson from him if he doesn’t keep it.

You actually had fun tonight, not something you had thought you would be saying when you first stepped into the restaurant and saw Hoseok standing in line. But now… now you don’t want the night to end.

Thankfully, Hoseok, must not either, which is why he offers to take you to a nifty little ice cream parlor that he swears has the best soft serve in town. Two desserts in one night isn’t exactly ideal, but neither of you are complaining. Now as you sit on a bench outside slurping on your quickly melting double chocolate fudge cone, you are content. The softly flowing waters of the river before you provide calming background noise to the otherwise quiet night.

“So have you applied what you learned in an actual club yet or what?” Hoseok says between licks of his mint chocolate chip ice cream.

You choke on your ice cream (you don’t know how but you do).

“Ex-scuse me?” You mumble around a bite of the cold dessert.

Hoseok chuckles at your flustered response.

“When was the last time you’ve been to a club?” he asks again.

“Um- awhile actually. And I’m not exactly thrilled to go back.” Your surprised Chaeyoung hasn’t dragged you out to yet another club in weeks. She must be busy. That or she’s just giving you time to get settled with these lessons before she forces you onto a club dance floor.

“You should go back. See if you’ve improved at all.”

“Well I better have or you’re a terrible teacher and I want my money back.”

He just shakes his head rather than dignifying your comment with a response.

“So tell me,” he begins, “What’s the real reason you decided to take my lessons?”

“Huh?” You tilt your head in confusion.

“You heard me. You can’t just be taking lessons because ‘you want to learn how to dance in a club.’ I had a feeling you were lying when you first told me but I didn’t want to push it. So tell me, why are you really here?” He queries, eyes squinted at you in suspicion.

Try as you might to deny it, he’s onto something. Although this whole thing had started because Chaeyoung suggested that you get lessons to get over your fear of club dancing, perhaps you definitely had ulterior motives when you initially agreed. You guess Hoseok was starting to catch on that you can’t just be taking his lessons for something as silly as dancing in a sweaty, grimy club. And he was right. So you tell him the truth.

“My dad, he was in a group when he was younger. He and his friends started it up expecting nothing serious to come out of it, but they eventually started seeing some success in it. They started competing in competitions which blossomed into them winning a few. They even became back up dancers for a couple of the local artists in his town. My dad used to tell me all about his days as a street dancer and he seemed so happy then.“

You relay the story of your father’s background, a faint smile on your face as you are reminded of all those times he used to sit you on his lap and tell you all about his glory days.

"They were dancers of the popping/locking variety.” You gesture to Hoseok, him most likely being familiar with the technique. “And he wanted to make a career out of it too but, I don’t know – life happened I guess. He met my mom and pretty soon I was here.” Hoseok is nodding along, paying attention to your every word as you tell him your family history.

“It was an unplanned pregnancy but my parents weren’t upset or anything. They just… adjusted. My dad had to put his dream on hold to support us, especially with his father-in-law breathing down his neck that he needed to get a real job to support my mom and me. So, he eventually settled down. He made decent money, so he never really complained but he never did get back to dancing. Not really.”

You shrug thinking about your childhood with your father. He was the best dad, always there for you, making you laugh, but more often than not you would spot something somber floating in the depths of his eyes. Something just below the surface, but subdued enough to make you believe you needn’t worry.

“But as long as I remember he was always dancing.” You remember those early mornings, waking up to soft music playing as your dad danced with your mom in the kitchen, her shrieking at him to stop fooling around before she burned the pancakes and, him, laughing heartily as he tried to coax her into a swing.

“He loved it. Dancing was his passion. Kinda like you really.” You pause to look at him.

“He tried to get me into it but I never took, obviously. I guess that’s why, now, I’m trying to pay homage to him. I don’t know it sounds stupid but, I want to connect with him in some way and dancing is the only way I know how.”

You didn’t mean to tell Hoseok this much about your personal life but once you started talking, it was hard to stop. Hoseok was a surprisingly good listener, but more than that you realized that it had been a long while since you talked about your father. You figured that you needed to get this off your chest and Hoseok generously lended an ear to listen.

Hoseok makes sure your looking at him before he says, genuinely, “It doesn’t sound stupid. Not at all.”

His words strike a chord in you and you feel grateful that you joined him tonight.

He holds eye contact with you for long after he finishes speaking. It’s too quiet, the only sounds you hear are the gentle pitter patter of the water before you, and you swear you can hear both of your breaths, slow and heavy. He holds your gaze and… did his eyes drop down to your lips or are you hallucinating? If they did it happens too fast for your soju-riddled brain to comprehend because now his eyes (if they ever left) are back up at yours. His stare is intense, too intense, which is why you find yourself snapping out of your haze and averting your eyes to your rapidly melting ice cream.

Hoseok clears his throat, adding some much needed noise to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

“Your dad sounds a lot like me actually. Mind if we switch?” he jokes.

You smile, grateful that the awkwardness from earlier starts to dissipate. “I’d love to but I don’t think it’d be much of a fair trade. My dad died a couple years ago.”

Hoseok winces, his attempt at lightening the mood unsuccessful, seeming to have worsened it instead. “I’m sorry to hear that. He seemed like a really great guy.”

“It’s no biggie. He was sick and we knew he would have to pass eventually. And, you’re right, he was a great guy. I have a feeling you guys would’ve gotten along well. Could’ve even given you a couple pointers.”

“Ha ha, very funny. I guess you’re not wrong though. I would’ve loved to learn from a guy like him.”

You smile. “God, now I wish you were his son. You would’ve made a way better student than I did, that’s for sure.”

Hoseok laughs. “Like I said, offers still up to take my old man. He probably would’ve loved another literature nerd to geek out with over similes or metaphors or whatever the hell you all get excited over.”

“I’m more of a sucker for descriptive imagery myself, but to each their own.”

Hoseok snorts around his final bite of his ice cream cone, thoroughly done with this conversation. You continue to lick your ice cream happily, pleased that you got the last word in.

Hoseok drops you off back at Seokjin’s restaurant to pick up your car and from there you both part ways.

“I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime.” he says as you try to fish your keys out of your purse.

Your heart flutters at the prospect of Hoseok wanting to spend more time with you. Finally locating your keys you unlock your car, sending Hoseok a response over your shoulder.

“We should. I severely underestimated you Jung Hoseok. You can be good company when you want to be.”

Salacious smile on his face, he pokes his head through the open window of your seat, his forearms resting against the car door.

“I’m really not that bad once you get to know me ice queen. I just had to get you to warm up to me. I can be good from time to time, but only if you let me.” He winks.

Heat rushes to your cheeks so incredibly fast you’re surprised you don’t pass out from it. God he’s unbelievable. Just when you think you’re getting over this silly crush he starts this to fuck you up all over again.

You groan audibly. “It was nice while it lasted. Goodnight, Hoseok.” you say tersely.

“Night, __! ” He calls cheerily over his shoulder and you watch him incredulously for a little bit before you drive off, headed straight for home.

When you do get home you run over the events of your night from beginning to end, not believing that it started out with you worrying that your next meeting with the dance instructor would be awkward.

You are grabbing some pajamas from your bottom drawer when you hear your phone ping with the alert of a new message.

You grab your phone from its place on the bedside table to read it.

Chae: Suit up, we’re going dancing bb.

You: When?

Chae: This Saturday. And bring your dancing shoes cause I’m inviting a few special guests.

You: Special guests???

Chae: You’ll see ;)

You don’t know what Chaeyoung is up to but you’re certain you don’t like the sound of it. Whatever she’s planning you push it to the back of your mind as you get ready for bed.

And once you do finally settle into the soft sheets of your heavy duvet, it takes you longer than expected to fall asleep. Because all you can think about is how soft Hoseok’s lips would feel pressed against yours if he had kissed you earlier on that park bench. How delicious his taste would’ve been, minty fresh and slightly sweet. How thoroughly you would have wanted his tongue to explore the recesses of your own mouth.

And suddenly you were awake, the growing wetness between your legs an undeniable indication of your desire.

Fucking hell, one little almost-kiss already had you reaching for that tiny motorized bullet in the top drawer of your nightstand. You were screwed.

Taehyung and Yoongi are not what you were thinking when Chae said you’d be having 'special guests’. Yoongi technically didn’t even count as a 'special guest’ anyway since he was working tonight.

And Taehyung came with you guys to the club almost always. You think the only time he skipped was when he had an extremely important final early the next day, but even then, it was like pulling teeth trying to convince him to stay home and get some rest. But when you mention this to Chaeyoung, she tells you they are not the 'special guests’ she was talking about.

You three sit by the bar, chatting with Yoongi while he polishes glassware, occasionally dipping away to attend to real customers. This routine is normal for you, but somehow tonight feels different.

As the night goes on you get more and more wary, truly scared of what Chaeyoung has planned. Everyone’s acting strange. Chae, especially. Sure, you guys make small talk but it’s weird because you all never make small talk. At least small talk this awkward and stilted. Yoongi asks you how your lessons are going and you respond truthfully.

“Kicking my ass but I’m no bitch so I’m getting through it.”

Taehyung jumps in too, trying to make chit-chat about how your last semester at school is treating you. Usually you like talking to Taehyung about these sorts of things. He’s a good listener and gives you surprisingly good advice for someone who’s supposed to be younger than you. But tonight he seems distracted, like he’s only half listening. His eyes dart around the room several times before they inevitably fall back on you, pretending as if they never left.

They aren’t immediately jumping up to gyrate and dry hump the air either, which is also strange. Everyone seems like their waiting on something to happen, yourself included. The difference being that they know what that something is and you don’t. The suspense is killing you.

It was 10pm on a Saturday and you would much rather be at home but you’d be a fool to mess with your friends’ plans. You figured it would be a typical night out. It wasn’t.

For one, Chaeyoung had taken extra care to pick out your outfit for tonight, refusing to let you go with your usual selection of comfort over fashion. She even went as far as asking Taehyung (the resident fashion expert) to stop by a little early to give his opinion. Before you even got a foot out of the house, you were poked and prodded at, not a single hair on your head left out of place.

Now as you sat there in your little red number, you couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss was about. Last time you checked it wasn’t your birthday, or a special occasion so what on earth was making them act so strange?

But when you spot a familiar head of light brown hair in the crowd you begin to realize.

“You invited Jimin?” you whisper-shout over the loud music to Chae. You can see that said head of light brown hair is making his way towards your section of the bar.

The smile originally directed at the brunette man making his way towards you all immediately disappears at your accusation.

“No. Must be coincidence.” She’s says before flagging Jimin down with an enthusiastic wave of her hand.

Coincidence my ass,you think. Jimin reaches you guys, that friendly smile on his face as he greets you all with a hug. He seems to already be familiar with Taehyung, apparently. This comes as a shock to you and go to ask Chaeyoung if they’ve all been going clubbing without you but something catches your eye. One more head is rapidly approaching your growing group.

“Jimin, what the fuck? I turned around for a second and you were gone.” Says the new visitor.

Jimin turns around to face his friend. “I told you to follow me. Why didn’t you listen?” While they argue you turn your attention to Chaeyoung, that conniving little–

“You invited Hoseok?” You grit out through clenched teeth, doing your best to control your volume so the red-head doesn’t hear you.

When she doesn’t do anything but smile coyly in response you turn your head to Taehyung and Yoongi.

“And you two, you knew didn’t you?”

Taehyung shrugs sheepishly. “Sorry ___. I wanted to tell you but she threatened to cut up all my button-downs if I did.”

“No excuse,” you say mercilessly, then turn to Yoongi who is still polishing that shot glass even though it’s been clean for the past 5 minutes now.

Yoongi looks up, eyebrows perked up at you as if to say, ’oh, you’re talking to me now?’ “I wasn’t threatened.” he says, expression bored. "Chaeyoung told me everything that happened starting with the day you first met him in that grocery store. When she told me her plan I was all in. You need some dick ___. Desperately.“

Taehyung snorts a laugh at that, trying (and failing) to hold it in when you glare at him. Chaeyoung lets out a full belly laugh not caring about the death glare you’re shooting her right now.

You turn back to Yoongi, giving him a taste of your medicine too. "What? I’m only stating the truth. ___, I love you but I can’t have you hanging around me the entire night. My tips were starting to dwindle and,” he leans in as if to tell you some big secret, “this may sound selfish but I like money just a teensy bit more than you.”

You pout childishly at him, about to complain that he’s a terrible friend but you freeze when you hear your name come from the taller of the two men beside you.

“___? Is that you?”

You take a moment before you look at him to calm yourself down. You saw him yesterday and that went fine, just relax. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. Maybe it was the fact that you were seeing him in a club setting, a place you were never really confident in to begin with.

You breathe in and out one last time hoping to god no one notices how long its taking you to gather yourself before you can respond.

But once you do look to Hoseok all your efforts to calm yourself down go to waste because holy fuck does he look good. A long sleeve button-up adorns his frame, the sleeves rolled up to expose his toned forearms. Tight black jeans emphasizing his finely toned legs. Even his hair is styled differently, the tousled red strands now slightly wavy, the curls cascading down his forehead prettily.

You must be taking too long to say something because the next thing you know, Jimin is speaking.

“Oh yeah, it is.” He looks to your friends. “I didn’t know you guys were friends with ___. She takes lessons with Hoseok at the studio. Right, 'seok?” He bumps Hoseok’s shoulder, which jolts him out of whatever haze he was in.

He shoots Jimin a glare, rubbing the spot where he bumped him tenderly. “Uh, yeah. I didn’t know you would be here. Jimin didn’t say he was meeting up with anyone when he dragged me along.”

Hoseok introduces himself to your group of friends, although you’re pretty sure he needs no introduction. Clearly Chaeyoung filled everyone in on exactly who he is.

“Well, I don’t know about you guys but I’m gonna go dance. Jimin? Taehyung? Care to join me?”

Jimin barely even gets out a “Sure, why not?” before Taehyung and Chae drag him off to the dance floor.

And then there were three. You turn to Yoongi, thankful for his presence. “Yoongi do-”

“Save that thought, I’ve got to attend to those paying customers over there. Be right back.” Yoongi says, heading towards the couple a few barstools down. They seem to be far more interested in their own conversation that you doubt they were even trying to get the bartender’s attention at all.

So far you’ve concluded two things from being out tonight. 1) You were friends with conniving little snakes, and 2) you needed new friends.

You hear Hoseok pulling out the seat next to you and you’re nerves shoot up all over again due to the fact that the two of you are all alone.

His eyes are back on you again and you feel self-conscious, not used to wearing something so revealing, especially in front of him. His eyes appraise you, and you swear you can feel your gut doing backflips inside you.

“You look great, you know. Red looks good on you.” Hoseok says genuinely.

“Thanks.” You give him a once over. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

”'Too bad?’ Wow, you really know how to compliment a guy, don’t you?“ He says but you can tell he’s not offended by the way he chuckles lightly at your comment.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, you sipping greedily on the drink in front of you as a way to calm your nerves. You’ve never been an avid drinker, but apparently tonight you are. Before you know it you’re a little past tipsy, the warmth of the alcohol spreading through your body like a reassuring blanket. Your nerves are put to the test again, however, when Hoseok decides to break the silence.

“About the other night, I’m sorry again I had to cancel our lesson. My sister’s wedding is coming up and mom wanted everyone home for a family dinner. I wasn’t flaking on you or anything, I swear.”

You quickly swallow down the rest of the liquor in your mouth so you can talk. “Oh my god, don’t worry about it. Especially if it was a family thing. Like I said, I wasn’t even upset when you had to cancel.”

It was a lie. You were upset but not because you wouldn’t get to dance. More like you would be missing out on another chance to spend time with him.

“You keep saying that but I doubt it. It’s funny, I didn’t know you’d be out tonight. I wasn’t even planning on going anywhere but Jimin insisted I tag along. This must be fate.” he says.

You laugh internally. Fate. If you call the three stooges grinding up on each other a few feet away from you gate, then sure. Regardless, you tilt your head slightly in confusion, asking him what he means anyway.

He looks at you. “Well, this is your first night out in a while right? The other day I joked you should apply what you learned at a club but it’s not so much of a joke now. Come on, let’s see if you remember any of what I taught you.” At that he stands, taking your hand in his in an attempt to pull you off your stool.

You don’t budge, rooted to your spot like a stubborn weed in the grass.

“No thanks. You go, have fun. I’ll keep the drinks company.” You reach for your fruity concoction, taking a sip rather than obliging Hoseok’s requests for you to stand.

“Come onnnn, it won’t be that bad. If anyone laughs I’ll defend you, you’re all equally bad in my eyes, don’t worry.”

“Wow that makes me feel ten times worse, I’m definitely not going anywhere now.” You mutter. But when he pouts at you slightly, his eyes pleading for you to come join him, you relent, sliding off your stool and tugging your dress down before it can ride up any further on your thighs. You sigh. You figured you have to do this eventually.

If it wasn’t Hoseok you have no doubt your friends would come looking for you sooner or later. And they wouldn’t be as nice as Hoseok had been. He smiles victoriously when you stand, keeping your hand in his as he leads you out to an empty space on the dance floor.

You see your friends plus Jimin couple feet away caught up in their own world as usual.

Hoseok stops somewhere in the middle turning you to face him. He starts you out with something simple, guiding your movements as you sway along to the beat.

“See? Nice and easy, nothing crazy.” he reassures you.

But then he’s spinning you around, your back facing his front. When his hands glide around your waist you can feel the blood in your body as it makes it way to your cheeks. He molds you to him, brushing his hands down your arms before their landing firmly on your hips again.

Oh this guy, he thinks he’s such a fucking tease doesn’t he? Well, two can play at that game. The music is suggestive, sensual, similar to what you danced to back in his studio.

You can do this, you think. You roll your hips back experimentally, feeling a surge of confidence enter you when his breath hitches.

“Like this?” You say innocently, although your movements are anything but. “Am I doing okay?”

You try again, more firmly this time, making sure that he feels every inch of you against his crotch. The soft moan he releases by your head is music to your ears.

“More than okay.” Another groan when you grind down against him again.

“You’re full of surprises aren’t you?” he asks almost breathlessly.

Watching him come undone like this is nice, you think. This… this you can do. Especially since each and every reaction you coax out of him just makes you feel that much bolder.

His hands come around to clutch you more firmly, securing one arm around your waist while his other remains attached to your hip, pressing you closer against him.

“Just a few,” you whisper, loud enough for him and him alone to hear.

He’s burying his head in your neck, the skin there soft and exposed and inviting. Your scent is so potent there, and as he drags his nose across your skin he can’t help but want a taste.

You whine, ready to just start begging him to drag his tongue along your already when you feel his lips on your skin. They’re soft at first, peppering your skin with light, tentative touches. But soon enough his lips are lingering. His kisses longer, sloppier. The open-mouthed kisses he trails across your neck are so hot and searing it causes the rest of your body to tingle with undeniable desire. You crane your neck even further if that’s possible, wanting him to mark up every inch of your bare skin. He engulfs your earlobe into his mouth, groaning into your ear when he speaks.

“You taste so sweet.”

You moan in response, too caught up in how good his tongue feels against the shell of your ear to say much else.

And then he’s trailing kisses down your jaw, all the way to your lips only to capture them in between his own in a kiss.

He groans into it, the taste of your lips even sweeter than your skin. But your twisting awkwardly to try and reach him properly and noticing your discomfort, he maneuvers your body in his arms, turning you to face him. Your arms immediately encircle his neck and his lock tight on the dip in your lower back, inching dangerously close to the curve of your ass. You devour his lips like a woman starved, and he does the same, thrusting his tongue between your lips, the both of you eager to explore each other.

Too soon he’s pulling away, and you chase the feeling, pouting when he doesn’t immediately press his lips to yours again. He’s panting breathlessly, smiling at your cute reaction.

“God what are you doing to me.” He presses his forehead against yours, rolling his hips up against you and that’s when you feel it.

A prominent bulge presses against the thin material of your dress and you feel a new wave of arousal hit you at the promise of what that holds. You press your legs together in an effort to relieve some of the ache between your thighs, unintentionally rubbing up against Hoseok in the process.

“Fuck,” he groans from deep within his throat. “I need to get you alone.” You nod enthusiastically, too out of it to say anything. All you know is that you need him, the ache between your legs becoming unbearable.

Pressing one last kiss to your lips, Hoseok pulls away, dragging you behind him as he makes his way through the crowded bar.

After brushing past a crowd of sweaty drunken club goers, he’s finally pulling you into a co-ed bathroom, locking the door and pressing you against it. He wastes no time, attacking your lips again so you feel the full force of his mouth against yours. The kiss is deeper this time, tongues colliding sloppily and just the barest hint of teeth that makes you eager for more.

Your hands glide up his chest, the shirt you had admired earlier quickly becoming a obstacle in your desire to feel his bare skin against your palms.

You pull away slightly, just enough to murmur against his lips,

“Off.” You tug at his shirt.

He chuckles lowly, placing several quick pecks against your lips before he’s stepping back from you.

“Eager are we?” he teases, unbuttoning his shirt at a snail’s pace just to piss you off, no doubt.

You roll your eyes because yes, you are fucking eager.

Instead of responding you yank him back to you, swatting his hands away so you can undress him yourself. Once his shirt is all the way undone you take the opportunity to run your hands up and down his toned torso. Jesus, all those hours at the studio did him well. You’re distracted by his chest so it takes you off guard when his lips are suddenly back on you. His kisses are not as frantic this time but just as passionate.

You take your time exploring him. He breaks the kiss, moaning audibly when you graze his nipples with your thumbs. Sensitive is he? You smile, taking that information and filing it away for later.

But your moment of power is fleeting, however, because the next thing you know he is hiking your dress up, his hands kneading the supple flesh of your ass.

“You know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” One hand pushes your dress up over the curve of your ass while the other traces the delicate lace of your cotton panties.

“Ever since that day you sat on my lap and grinded on my thigh like a horny little slut.”

You moan at a combination of his words and the fact that he’s now cupping your clothed sex. You’re so wet and there’s no doubt he can feel you soaking through to your panties. But you don’t care. He’s massaging his fingers over your clit just right and ohmygod you don’t want him to stop.

“Or maybe it was before that. Who knows. But all I can think of lately is how pissed that sharp mouth of yours makes me and how much I want to fill it up.”

Good god you needed him to shut up. It’s embarrassing how close you are to coming and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

It’s funny because if anyone asked, 'deny, deny, deny’ had been your motto when it came to Hoseok. But once it actually came down to it you had to admit that you’ve wanted him for a while now too.

But now that you finally have him, you’re not at all sure what the hell you signed up for.

In a flash he’s down on his knees, yanking your panties down with him as he goes. You gasp, shocked by the sudden rush of cool air on your hot core, but that doesn’t stop you from snaking your hands through his hair, spreading your legs a little wider for his ease of access.

When two of his fingers meet the slick heat of your pussy your breath hitches, already overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers on you.

“I wonder,” Hoseok begins eyes concentrated on the dewy pink of your folds as they greedily engulf his digits. “Do you taste just as good down here as you do up there?” His fingers glide up and down your pussy, scissoring your clit between his index and middle finger. So close to where you want him to be but not quite there yet.

However, he doesn’t wait long to give you what you want because all of a sudden his tongue is on you, the flat of his tongue pressing up against your clit as he swipes one long stripe up your sex. You moan wantonly, clutching the hair on top of his head even harder than before.

He groans at your tight grip, inadvertently producing vibrations against you that make you moan louder with pleasure.

“Mm, so much better.” He places several kisses against you, making his way to your aching hole.

You throw your head back when he scissors his tongue into you, a soundless moan leaving your open mouth. You worry when you feel him retract his tongue, but it’s only so he can push two fingers up into you, stretching your hole so he can thrust his tongue deeper into you.

“Fuck,” you whine desperately.

“How’s this? Am I doing okay?” He mirrors your words from earlier, and you’d scold him for teasing you but you can’t, not when he’s lapping at your cunt like it’s his last meal.

“Fuck Hoseok,” you pant, “I can’t… I need…” He draws back, catching your eyes with his as he mouths at your pussy, “What? Hmm?” Another lick, and you whimper, knees buckling.

“What is it you need?” He whispers darkly.

His gaze is so intense but you’re caught in limbo, wanting to look at him but not being able to with the way your eyes keeping fluttering shut at his ministrations. You cry out when the tip of his tongue flicks hard against your clit, punishment for not having answered him.

“Shit I-I need you.”

He groans, adjusting the pressure against your clit to soft kitten licks, yet the two fingers shoved up your pussy keep a solid rhythm.

“Tell me what you want.”

“Please…” you writhe against the wall, holding tight to his soft locks for leverage.

“Please what? Use your words.”

“Please…” you cry out when he gives a particularly harsh thrust inside you. “M-make me cum.”

He groans, resuming a harsh pace against your core. Everything is wet, his lips sloppy and shiny from a combination of your juices and his saliva. His fingers are relentless, pistoning into you and not letting up until you’re cumming around his digits.

Your orgasm builds in the pits of your stomach, a slow burn that culminates in an explosion of pleasure that has you moaning his name in satisfaction.

“Fucckk. Hoseok, just like that.” You’re a whimpering mess at this point, you’re hips undulating against his tongue as you ride out the last few waves of your high.

He laps up your juices eagerly, not stopping until he’s tasted every part of you. You watch him, satiated, as he gives your cunt a few last licks before he’s rising and capturing your lips in a kiss. You return his kiss eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and tasting yourself on his tongue.

He pulls away from you, smiling endearingly.

“You were so loud.” he comments.

“And who’s fault was that?!” you hit his chest playfully. “You’re lucky the music out there is so loud or else you would have gotten us both kicked out,” you say.

He laughs at your faux outrage. “It would’ve been worth it,” he mutters lowly.

“Mmm,” you hum pressing against him again for another kiss. “Maybe.”

You’re body is molded to his, and you can feel every inch of him against you, including the hard erection pressing against your upper thigh. You snake your hands down his bare chest, past his toned stomach, until one hand is cupping the tent in his pants. He groans lightly. You apply more pressure, gripping him more firmly so that you can feel the outline of him over his clothes. You tug at him lightly.

“Don’t tease.”

Smirking against his lips, you decide to spare him. He’s suffered long enough having to endure being this hard for so long. Determined hands cease their assault on his clothed cock and reach for his belt buckle, undoing the clasps that keep him hidden from your view.

The whole time he watches you with bated breath and lust in his eyes, anxious for you to get your hands on him. Once his pants are undone you tug him close to you by the belt loops, before one hand is reaching into his boxers to feel him. Your hands thread through neatly trimmed pelvic hair before they land on him, full and thick and hard, and he groans.

“Oh god, please please don’t tease.“

You giggle at how desperate he sounds but only squeeze your hand around his shaft harder, taking the time to explore him before you absolutely ruin him. He’s not the longest you’ve had, but there’s enough of him to make you literally salivate at the thought of him fucking you open and taking you raw.

When you get to the tip there’s a bead of pre-cum forming, a patch of his underwear already wet with how much he had been leaking before. You use that to coat the rest of him, the added lubrication making it easier for your hand to glide up and down his shaft.The whole time you observe his reactions, his eyes shut tight in pleasure giving you the freedom to watch him unrestricted.

He gasps when your thumb dips down into his slit, his eyes screwing shut, brow furrowing deeply.

But he doesn’t have long to revel in your touch because all to soon you’re removing your hand from him completely. His eyes shoot open at you, confusion etched across his features. Cute.

You take pity on him, giving his lips a quick peck before you drag the same hand that was just on his cock up to his lips. Tracing his bottom lip with your thumb, you tug down on it until he’s opening his mouth for you. You take this opportunity to stick two fingers into his warm mouth, and he accepts them greedily, sucking and coating your digits in his saliva.

You watch him entranced, and he looks back at you intently, but you pull your fingers back once you feel like they have been sufficiently coated. For good measure, you lick a line up your palm before your hands are back on him again.

This time, when you wrap your hand around him, the glide is much easier due to your dual saliva. Hoseok keels forward, his forehead landing on your shoulder as you stroke his cock.

“Does that feel good?” You ask.

“Yes, yes. God please keep going.” he pants next to your ear.

And you do keep going, if only to coax those cute sounds out of him further. Your hand is moving at a punishing pace, your grip deathly, but you don’t let up even when your arm feels like its going to fall off with the amount of effort you’re exerting.

You want him to cum. You want to make him feel as good as he made you feel just moments prior. And you’re doing a pretty damn good job if his whimpers next to your ear are any indication.

“Fuck, gonna make me cum.” he pants out.

At that declaration, you stroke harder in an effort to get him to cum faster. It’s only when your fingers graze his tip one last time that he is done for, his orgasm hitting him full force and coating your hand in thick ropes of white.

You slow your pace, milking him of all he’s got as he comes down from his high. He slows his breathing beside you, his harsh pants eventually subsiding into even breaths. He pulls back to face you.

“I can’t believe you. You really just made me cum in my pants like a fucking sixteen-year old.” he says, disbelief etched across his face.

You laugh, removing your hand from his underwear. “It’s payback for eating me out so well I couldn’t think straight. You should be thankful it wasn’t my mouth.”

His eyes darken at that, but you quickly shut him down. “Get your head out of the gutter, there’ll be plenty of time for that but right now we need to get cleaned up. The guys are probably wondering where we are.”

“Sorry but you can’t just say stuff like that and not expect me to get excited… and… no that’s not helping either.” In the midst of him talking you had brought you’re cum-drenched hand up to your mouth to suck off Hoseok’s seed that hadn’t remained in his pants.

You smile sheepishly but continue cleaning off your hand anyway, too concerned with the taste of him to worry about his growing arousal.

You turn around to wash your hands in the sink there while Hoseok buttons himself back up behind you. You shoot him a smile of gratitude in the mirror when he reaches down and adjusts your dress back over your ass for you.

Drying your hands, you help Hoseok fix the last few strands of his hair that was out of place before you two deem that you are acceptable enough to be seen in public again. And by acceptable you mean: it’s obvious you two hooked up but hey, at least you had the decency to try and cover it up.

Hoseok and you make your way back to you’re little area of the bar to see that Chaeyoung, Jimin, and Taehyung have taken a break from dancing. You don’t even make it all the way there before you see Chaeyoung’s resulting smirk and waggle of her eyebrows at the sight of a disheveled Hoseok and you.

You mouth out a “Shut it” to her and hope she knows how to read lips.

“Where have you two been? We came back and you weren’t here.” Taehyung asks, seemingly none the wiser to you and Hoseok’s whereabouts.

“Dancing Tae, isn’t that what people do at clubs?” you say quickly.

“The horizontal tango maybe,” you catch Chae muttering under her breath and you kick her under the table in retaliation.

Thankfully, that conversation is cut short when Yoongi drops by again, striking up conversation about some drunk asshole he’s debating on whether he should call security on or not.

You try your best to act natural, and so does Hoseok, but a lingering stare from Jimin has you thinking he must be a little more perceptive than Tae (or less drunk). You feel like you can breathe again when he finally relents, attention turned back the animated bartender behind the counter. .

The next day you are at work, physically, yes, but mentally? Checked out the moment you got here. You’ve been thinking about Hoseok’s mouth on you all day, the pretty sounds he made when he was desperate, the face he pulled when he was orgasming under your-

The phone rings and you’re pulled yet again from your fantasies. It was for the best. You really needed to focus and get back to work.

You pick up the phone, putting on your 'professional voice’ and getting your computer ready to set up an appointment for one of the clients.

You’re not even halfway through you’re greeting when you hear the sound of your best friend on the line.

“Chae?!” You whisper shout, trying not to draw attention to yourself. “Why are you calling me at work?!”

“You know why. If you answered you’re texts it wouldn’t have to come to this, now would it?” She whisper-shouts back, letting you know that she’s probably supposed to be working too.

You saw the texts (so many texts) but you had yet to answer her. You didn’t see the point when she had known what happened, you knew what happened, why did she want to coax it out of you so badly?

“ Chae, please. I have shit to do and you can’t call me up at work like this- I’ll talk to you later, bye-” You’re about to hang up when you hear her noises of protest on the other line. You sigh.

“Wait, wait, hold on. At least tell me this… was it good?”

You let a smile break out onto your face, nodding your head in confirmation.

“Yes.” you leave it at that..

She squeals into the phone and you can hear that she wants to try to weed some more information out of you but you are already saying goodbye. The last thing you need is your friend thinking she’s some kind of matchmaker.

You go on about your day more focused this time, thankfully. But the excitement of the morning returns when you get a text message around noon.

Hoseok: hey :)

You: hi

Hoseok: how are you?

You: I’m swell, doing absolutely wonderful on this fine day. And you good sir?

Hoseok: haha, very funny

You: Lol, how are you gonna ask ‘how am I’ when you literally ate me out like you did last night. You should already know.

Hoseok: I didn’t think it’d be polite to tell you right off the bat that I’m still thinking of your taste on my tongue. Since this morning actually

Well that shuts you up momentarily.

Hoseok: What’s wrong? No more jokes?

You: Some of us are at work you know

Hoseok: I’m at work. Teaching a group of 10 year olds right now. Doesn’t mean I’m not imagining bending you over and fucking you into the mirror of my studio

It takes you a while to respond because that is certainly something you’ve imagined before

You: Gross. Such dirty thoughts in front of the kids?

Hoseok: Relax, their on water break rn

You: Still

Hoseok: Anyway, I wanted to ask you something

You: Shoot

A few minutes pass where you see those same three dots appear and disappear, as if their mocking you.

Hoseok: my sister’s having her wedding rehearsal is coming up. I was wondering if you could come with me

Hoseok: I’m not forcing you, or anything! I could just really use someone there with me to take get my relatives off my back. If they see I’m with someone they’re less likely to hound me

Hoseok: And not 'with someone’ like that! As friends, I mean.

He’s inviting you to a family event?

You: Can’t you take Jimin or one of your other friends with you?

Those three dots appear and disappear for a few seconds but it takes significantly less time for him to respond this time.

Hoseok: Can’t. Jimin gets motion sickness, Jungkook’s busy with school and Seokjin would just be a mistake. You’re my last hope. Please.

He sends the puppy-dog face emoji and you are a goner.

You: Fine, when is it?

Hoseok: Really? Great, thank you so much.

Hoseok: And it’s this Saturday but we have to head up there a couple days early, so maybe Thursday night?

You: I’m using my sick time for this so it better be worth it

Hoseok: It will be. I’ll make it up to you I promise ;)

You don’t respond after that because you really do have to get back to work now. You two have been friends for a couple months now and now you’re meeting his family. As friends, you remind yourself.

This whole one-eighty in your relationship with Hoseok had been nothing more than a friends with benefits situation. Right? Is that what you wanted? Yes. Maybe. It could be? You weren’t sure.

The only thing you were certain about right now is that you had to go home and start packing for a weekend trip away to meet your friend’s (with benefits) parents.

It was going to be an eventful three days you’d come to find out.

#dance teacher hoseok #dancer hoseok #dancer hobi #jhope x reader #jhope x you #jung hoseok smut #jung hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok x y/n #hoseok x you #bts smut #fluff #angst

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kinetic-elaboration · 5 years ago

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10 Fanfic Question Tag Game

I was tagged by @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @marauders-groupie, and @dylanobrienisbatman - Thank you!

Not sure who else hasn’t already done this or already been tagged... Please do it if you haven’t and want to!

1. what’s your favorite genre to write?

I mean, I feel like the answer is objectively “Romance” because I write fanfic but tbh I never think of it that way. Maybe because I’m so used to writing fic that I think in the sub-genres of fandom rather than in the sense of how the work would be classified on a bookstore shelf. Within fandom genres, I like to think I write a variety of things, fluff, angst, etc., but mostly it all comes back to pining, longing, softness, desire, uncertainty, and idiots in love.

2. do you pull inspiration from real-life, or do you pull things from other books/fanfic?

I do pull from real-life in a way but... I try not to pull directly and literally. Every now and then I will take a real life location or event and write a fic around it but I feel like those stories tend to not be as good, or at least, I don’t like them as much. I don’t know if it’s because I know the big gap between the fiction and the reality and the fiction pales in comparison, or because it feels or is lazy, or because those stories really are weaker. More often, I pull from real life in the sense that writing is a way to work through things. So I might take a certain feeling that’s real but have it emerge in a different way, or I might take a certain small moment and write it in a different context. There’s an example of this in my most recent Chopped fic but I don’t want to reveal myself--plus it’s kinda personal in a way. The other best example I can think of is a Bellarke fic I wrote once in which Bellarke are college fuck-buddies-with-feelings; there are two incidents there that are straight up stolen from my relationship with my ex-girlfriend but everything else, including the main plot, is completely unrelated. But tbh even that fic kind of toes the line for me into “a little too real.”

In terms of other sources of inspiration... I get a decent number of ideas from songs. I write to prompts/challenges with some frequency. Sometimes I write things that fulfill certain fantasies of mine (A Watch with No Hands is an example). I would say most often, inspiration comes in the form of “Wow, this made me a feel a certain way, I want to create this feeling myself.” And that “this” could be anything; often it’s music, but it could be a TV show (”this makes me feel nostalgic for high school, I want to write something about adolescence,” for example) or something I’ve read.

3. do you tend to write one-shots, short stories, or longer things?

I write one-shots for the most part. I am not good with multi-part fics. At all. Sometimes I write very short things, under 1k, as writing exercises. But in terms of full-sized, I think 4k is about average for me??

4. do you prefer description or dialogue?

I’d say description. If I get on a roll with dialogue I can actually write it faster, but if I’m including long sections of dialogue, it’s because I need to get certain, specific information across, and so I get nervous about it before I start. I don’t want to forget something important! And I don’t want the important things to feel shoved in there, but to flow naturally! With description, I can start out with a general idea and just let it flow and see what happens.

5. favorite fanfic/book of all time?

My favorite book of all time, if I had to pick just one, is The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov. I’ve only read it in its entirety once and I recently discovered my English copy is kinda falling apart, which is a bummer. It’s so beautiful and moving; one of those books that just transforms you as a person.

I’m also a big fan of Shirley Jackson, so like literally everything she’s ever written, including stuff I haven’t read yet, must be mentioned. And I’ve been reading Sigrid Undset’s The Master of Hestviken this past... over half a year probably, and she was a genius. America needs to understand this.

I don’t think I read enough fic to have a favorite of all time. :(

6. favorite trope?

SHARING A BED. I was thinking recently about how often I use this trope and I’m like, ‘should I tone it down?’ Then I decided, heck no, it’s not boring me yet. I just... I love beds, I love the comfort of a good bed, and I guess it’s just Absolute Peak Fantasy of me to imagine two people snuggly and happy in bed. Or snuggly and pining for each other in bed.

7. are you the kind of person to work on more than one wip?

Yes. I do tend to focus on one thing at a time in the sense that I might only work on one fic for a week, or two weeks, and I generally do have one ‘front burner’ project that gets most of my attention until it’s done, or it gets irredeemably stuck. But I don’t get an idea, write it, finish it, post it, and then go on to the next idea (unless I’m writing for an event with a deadline, like Chopped, or a gift exchange, where there’s basically no other choice). I always have multiple fics started and/or in the planning stages.

8. how long have you been writing for?

Aw fuck. Well... I started posting fic online in the fall of 2006, when I was a senior in high school. I started writing fic just for myself probably around 2002 or 2003. And I’ve been writing original stuff/in general...for as long as I’ve been able to write I guess? My first long form piece was handwritten in a 70-page wide-ruled notebook--filled the whole thing!--and that was in the fourth or fifth grade, I think. (For anyone who doesn’t want to do math, that was 20 years ago lololol.)

9. do you tend to write more during the morning, afternoon, or evening?

I write mostly in the afternoons/evenings. If I’m having a good week, I can write for a bit after work, like around 6pm or so. On the weekends I say I’ll write in the morning but... it’s usually the afternoon at best. Sometimes I write before bed, if I really need it for the catharsis.

10. do you prefer to post your wip chapter by chapter, or do you prefer to wait until your wip is 100% finished before posting?

I don’t write that many multi-chapter WIPs but I admit I do not wait until the whole thing is done. I have a couple where I’m trying to do that... and I have sometimes been able to write ahead. But I just don’t have the self control. Plus like... writing is a solitary activity, and the great thing about fanfic is that there’s a chance to connect with people through it, to make it less solitary. So in a way, I guess this is a self-serving justification, but, what’s the point of hoarding what you’ve written?

#about me #tag games

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kasienda · 5 years ago

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Fanfiction Year in Review 2019

@floraone tagged me, but I was going to do it anyway!

1. List of fics completed this year:

A Fight and Make Up (An Untitled UsaMamo Drabble) Superhero Survey (Miraculous Reveal) Last Wishes (Ladybug) Word Vomit (Sailor Moon Reveal) Kiss (Sailor Moon Reveal) The Sol of the System (Sailor Moon)

2. Number of words written:

In the year of 2019, I published 55,755 words in various stories. Not as many as last year, but under my circumstances I’m pretty proud of that number. (My 750words app says I’ve written 108k since May, but that’s not all fic writing. Though like 90% of it is. It’s also mostly not published though).

3. Your most popular fic this year:

Last Wishes – I have no idea where this story came from. I was in a weird mood and it was haunting me and I had to get it out! And like Nightmares (and no other fic I’ve ever written), it came so easily. Wrote the whole thing in about three sittings. And apparently, it resonated with a lot of people (made a lot of people cry). And I gotta say, this Ladybug fandom is wild in that you can get like 100 kudos in a day! I’m way too addicted to that feeling. But in the Sailor Moon Fandom, my most popular fic this year was A Craving for Chocolate Milkshakes, which makes sense because really that’s the only story I’ve been somewhat consistently updating this year. Besides Last Wishes, everything I’ve published this year have been one-offs. 4. Your personal favorite this year:

I don’t know!! Why do you make me pick from my children?!

I’m insanely proud of the most recent update of Craving for Chocolate Milkshakes and the Fight/Make Up Drabble (maybe I should give it a name).

Like, I’m so pleased with how these came out. But I also just reread Last Wishes searching for the review that touched me this year, and I’m kinda in awe. It’s just so amazing and powerful. And I’m crying! I’m not sure I believe that I wrote it.

5. Your favorite scene:

This is an excerpt from Chapter Two of An Open Secret (which isn’t published, BUT I wrote it earlier this week so that’s 2019 right?!), which was supposed to be a one off for the ML Secret Santa Fic Exchange, and it grew into a multi-chapter fic! I just love it when that happens! “I have to tell her how I feel,” Adrien thought out loud. “Do you think she likes me?”

“Aren’t you tired of letting Ladybug break your heart?” Plagg asked, floating lazily through the air.

“Not ladybug. Marinette!”

Plagg whipped around to hover behind Adrien’s shoulders. Sure enough, Adrien was pouring through Marinette’s Instagram feed, and not his Ladybug album.

“Marinette? Since when? I thought Marinette was ‘just a friend.’”

“I did too, Plagg! But she’s been so different this week! She’s not nervous, and I think I love her so much.”

“What about Ladybug?”

“I’ll always love Ladybug, but she’s made it clear that she’s interested in someone else.”

Plagg was proud of himself for not laughing.

“Do you think she likes me?” Adrien asked.

Plagg rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you have to ask.”

“She doesn’t, does she? I mean, why would she? Why was she always so nervous around me before? Did she hate me?”

“You don’t give me enough cheese for this,” the kwami grumbled.

6. A fic or scene that challenged you:

The Sol of the System was so hard! I was writing for someone else who seemed to really like Silver Millennium, and I love the Silver Millennium as past life baggage that informs current fears and behaviors, but as its own thing? I never really felt connected to it! And then, I tried to give it a sci-fi twist, which is also not my genre! And even once I had a concept that I thought I could do something with, I had no time to work on it!! Somehow, it magically came together. @tinacentury has a lot to do with that. (She’ll say that she didn’t do much, but she’s so wrong!!) So, does my husband for kinda taking the kids for the last day and a half before the deadline so I could just write!

7. A line of writing you’re proud of:

In general, my use of parentheticals in the Fight Make Up UsaMamo Drabble makes me SO HAPPY! And I’m so sad that hardly anyone read this short!! One line doesn’t really capture the technique though, so here’s six and half paragraphs… (My husband is rolling his eyes so hard right now…)

...

Mamoru watched her from his usual booth like he had everyday for the last week. He had no right, he knew it, but he couldn’t tear himself away. Usagi was light and he was a moth. She was morphine and he was a drug addict. It physically hurt to be in her presence when he couldn’t even speak to her, but it was somehow better than not seeing her at all.

He stared at the back of her golden head seated in a booth across the Fruit Parlor's dining room. They had progressed far enough into their break up that it was possible for them to inhabit the same room (well, a large restaurant in any case) without either of them bursting into tears or retreating completely.

But today, Usagi was stretching his tolerance. She had come in with a friend (a male friend). Though maybe friend was too strong a word as it was quickly apparent that the boy sitting across from his girlfriend (his ex-girlfriend) was an assigned partner for some school project.

But even if it had been a date with romantic intentions, Mamoru liked to think he could have handled it. He wasn't completely confident he could make that claim, but he wanted to be able to say it was true. Because, more than anything, he just wanted to see Usagi happy.

And if he had to stay away to keep her breathing, he couldn't be the one to do that. It would have been hard, but he would have forced himself to bare it, just as he had forced himself to break up with her (the best thing that had ever happened in his miserable life) so that she would be safe.

But that wasn't the situation. They were supposed to be working on the project, but the boy was too familiar with her. His head kept invading her work space, he slid closer to her so that their sides were touching, and he accidentally touched her too often to be coincidence.

And again, it would have been fine (who was he kidding; he would have been a jealous mess) if Usagi welcomed the boy's advances. 8. A comment that touched you:

I received this comment on my Last Wishes Fic. And spent two days and asked for lots of advice in how to respond. Then when I finally did, this person told me that this story helped them talk about how they were feeling about their loss with their family. Like guys, this isn’t why I started writing fic, but OMG it definitely keeps me going.

On a lighter note, I also kinda love it whenever one of my Sailor Moon followers comments on a Ladybug fic that I’ve written. Like to me, it’s the biggest compliment that they like my writing enough, that they’re willing to cross over to a different fandom for a bit. @beej88 even crossed fandoms and genres for me. And whenever I’m sad about not getting reviews from my giftee, @floraone pops in with an essay and I feel like it doesn’t matter if my giftee never responds at all. (She may have done this twice without knowing how good her timing was… and for the record ONE of my giftees totally responded with gushing praise, so… I just gotta be more patient!)

And I especially appreciate @tinacentury for all the behind the scenes comments and encouragement and then also taking the time to comment on stories after the fact as well!!

9. Something that inspired your writing this year:

So, first off, my friends here have been so encouraging.

The Miraculous Ladybug Community – I’ve delved into a new fandom (blame my sister!). And man, I really like the dynamic of being in an insanely active fandom where the source material isn’t finished yet. It’s like working in a living breathing thing, and that’s so cool. Also, I get so many comments/kudos even being a pretty unknown author there and I’m very addicted to this validation. (Though I made a rec list!! I was so excited!! Thank you @alexseanchai!!). It also makes me feel like a traitor to my Sailor Moon roots though…

750words.com – this is a little app that just made writing feel easy. It made writing a habit, and took off the pressure of getting it perfect! I feel like it’s taught me to write a lot faster and worry about perfecting it later. This little app is what gave me the structure to keep writing when my life has been insane!

10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)

I participated in two fic exchanges this year! I’ve never done this before. And I kinda love the experience of writing for what you think someone else would like. It forced me to write in a different headspace and write to a deadline, which apparently, I’m very capable of doing. And it definitely pushed me into writing things that are different than I normally write.

Also, that I wrote and published anything at all inbetween taking care of a medically fragile four-year-old and an infant who was born in March and going back to work this past September. (Writing has only become more important to me. It’s how I recharge and deal with stress, so I’m clearly not going to stop).

11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

So many!! Probably too many! (Like always!) - I really want to finish Chocolate Milkshakes and An Open Secret in like the next 30 days! (I promise nothing!) - I really want to dive back into Coming of Age and Invisible Wounds. Like I’m SO excited about where these stories are going! - I want to polish up like four Miraculous Reveals that are each like 80% finished, so I can get some momentum going on this series. - I want to go to the library every week for two hours for writing to maybe have a chance of reaching some of these goals.

And I will tag @tinacentury, @overworkedunderwhelmed, @beej88, @mikauzoran, @cassraven, @laadychat, @bubbleblower as an invitation to participate if you want to! Not a requirement! :) You can totally do it if you’re not tagged too!

#fan fic year in review #i wrote a lot #my own content #reflection #proud of myself #2019 #life of a writer

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thespeedyreader · 6 years ago

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The Oxbridge application process

Hey, stxdywarrior here! I’ve recently just applied to Cambridge University to study English, and I wanted to share my tips and experiences to help you if you’re interested in applying. First of all, if you’re applying to Oxford or Cambridge, that’s great! They’re both amazing universities, and applying is going to be challenging but so rewarding. I have no doubt that you’ll excel, whatever you want to do.

Please share this and add to it if you wish to!

A quick note: While this masterpost is general, I have to stress that lots of these tips may only apply to humanities subjects. I don’t have much to say about the sciences, I’m afraid. If you are applying for a science, however, I still hope you can find some great content in here for you.

UCAS application

Okay, first thing’s first: the application itself. Applying to Oxbridge is different because you have to have your UCAS form sent by October 15th (while everyone else has the luxury of waiting until January), and while that sounds stressful, it’s a great feeling to get it done early, trust me. And this means having applied to ALL your chosen universities, not just Oxford or Cambridge.

Another thing that’s different about Oxbridge is that they’re collegiate universities, so you’ll have to choose a college. Or, you can choose to make an open application, meaning you’ll be assigned a college later by the university. Don’t stress too much about this stage - people choose certain colleges for all sorts of reasons, and they’re all good anyway. I chose my college because it was small and had good student wellbeing services.

Because the deadline is so early, I would recommend you start thinking about your personal statement by Summer, so that when you get back in September, you can hit the ground running. Here are a few tips I have for your personal statement:

Get all the help you can. And by this I mean: ask everyone you know who might be helpful to have a look over it. This means teachers, family members, classmates, and anyone you know who’s recently been through the same process you are going through.

That being said, make sure all of the opinions don’t leave you at see. I found it really hard when one person was telling me one thing and another was telling me the opposite, but I learned to balance my OWN judgements with other peoples’.

Don’t worry about the character count until your last drafts. Make sure you nail the content first.

It doesn’t matter how many drafts you have to get through, as long as you save all the drafts. I think I got through like 14 drafts?

Don’t JUST write it for Oxbridge. What I mean is, the other universities on your list matter too. So even though Oxbridge don’t care much about your extracurriculars, that doesn’t mean you should ignore them.

It isn’t about quantity, it’s about quality. Even if you’ve only done a few things, if you write about them well, then they’re still just as impressive.

A tip not everyone hears is that the universities want to hear about your personal response to things. Don’t just say you read a book; say how it made you feel, and why you were interested in it. Use phrases like ‘I was fascinated by’ and ‘this intrigued me’. I’m serious.

Remember that your personal statement is literally the hardest piece of writing you have to do. It’s easy to feel daunted by it, but there are plenty of resources out there to help.

Supplementary Application Questionnaire (Cambridge only)

If you’ve applied to Cambridge, you’ll soon get ask to do the SAQ. This isn’t a big deal, but it’s quite a long form to fill out, so it’s best to do it carefully and start early. You’ll be asked things like what modules you’ve studied in your a levels, and you have to include a profile photo of yourself. At the end, you can also write an additional personal statement. This is optional, but just for reference, my one included some things I’d done that I hadn’t included on my personal statement, and I related them to some of the specific modules on the Cambridge course.

Entrance exams

Depending on which subject you’re applying for, you may be asked to sit an exam. This will be typically registered through your school or college, and it’s important to make sure you sign up before the deadline (which will be set by your school). The exams happen around late October.

As I was applying for English, I took the ELAT (English Literature Admissions Test). In the ELAT I was given six texts (poems or novel excerpts), all linked by a theme, and I had to pick two to ‘compare and contrast’. So there was no set structure, and I couldn’t strictly revise for it. In terms of preparation, you can find past papers, and it also helps to do language analysis of some unseen poetry just so you’re used to it. You will NEVER be tested on things you don’t know; they’re more looking for the way you form and present an argument.

Essay submission

Depending on which subject you’re applying for (mainly humanities), you may be asked by email to submit essays to your chosen college. I was asked to send in two essays that I’d done in a school setting (I got to choose, whew), and I needed to print four copies of each (no idea why) and get my teachers to sign it to prove it was my work. The essays can’t be edited.

One thing to note is that, while Oxford usually let you email them, Cambridge are still in the Dark Ages and will only receive them by post. So if you’re applying to Cambridge and are a confused millennial like me, who literally never uses post, I’d get the essays in early.

Another thing is that my college constantly emailed me reminders about the essay deadline, so unless you live under a rock you can’t miss it.

The interview

As the final stage of the application process, you will (hopefully!) be invited to interview. They’ll let you know by email in late November. Cambridge typically invite about 80% of applicants, whereas Oxford invite less, which I think is about 50%. So if you get an interview, congratulations! And don’t panic. People say it’s the biggest factor in the process, when in reality the universities treat each part of your application equally.

Interviews are done differently by each university. In Oxford, you’ll be asked to stay at your college for a few days, because not only do your college interview you, but your application is sent around other colleges, so you could be invited to interview at another college at any time. (Sorry I can’t shed more light on this, as I didn’t apply to Ox.) In Cambridge, you only get interviewed by one college, and you have the option of staying overnight or just going for the day.

How to prepare:

While you don’t need to go overboard with this one, do read a lot around your subject in the few weeks beforehand, so that if they ask, “so, what have you been reading lately?”, you’ve got a lot to say.

If you have the opportunity to do a practise interview, take it. My school organised one for me, but even if your school doesn’t, find someone - like a teacher - who can do it for you. Even if it’s them just grilling you on your personal statement, at least you’ll be used to articulating your arguments in an interview setting.

If you sent in essays, make sure you read over those essays beforehand. They asked me about one of mine.

Map out some generic questions that they might ask you. For English, for example, I researched questions like, “is it better to read a play or see it in production?” and “what’s the difference between literacy and literature?” and even “what is literature?”

You’ll be notified by email the professors who will be interviewing you. I’d recommend looking them up (they’ll be on your college website) and finding out what they specialise in.

Read over your personal statement as many times as you have to. They’re very likely to ask you about something on there.

This sounds cliche, but PLEASE look after yourself before the interview. It always takes place right at the end of a really busy term, so watch out for colds and things (I’m telling you this because I was recovering from a chest infection when I interviewed, and had only just got my voice back RIP)

The interview itself

If you’re doing a humanities subject, you might be given a source or written extract to look at before one of the interviews, and then they’ll discuss it with you. I’d bring lots of highlighters for you to annotate. (I was expected to just be given a poem for English, but I actually got a poem AND part of a critical essay. Go figure.)

No one cares what you’re wearing. I mean, wear sensible stuff, but there’s no need to try to hard.

This is a bit random, but my teacher told me to make a list of all the things I love about my second choice university the night before, to remind myself that Oxbridge isn’t everything. Believe it or not, it worked.

You have to expect to be put on the spot, and this means on-your-feet thinking. I heard they can smell a rehearsed answer from a mile away.

When you’re waiting to interview, you’ll probably meet loads of other applicant like you. It’s up to you whether you chat with them or not - I know some people like to keep themselves to themselves to keep their focus, while I personally loved getting to know people, as chatting helped me stay calm. Either way, everyone’s in the same boat, so don’t worry.

If you’re like me, and easily get distracted by social media, I’d recommend staying off it for the whole day if you can. I did this, and it helped me protect my mental space and keep out negative thoughts.

Some of your interviewers might come across as a bit scary. They might also disagree with everything you say, which can be off-putting. Try not to worry too much if this happens - stand your ground.

When you make an argument, be prepared to justify it, but also, if you want to change your mind, do it. The interviewers are looking for a teachable mind, not someone who’s right all the time and knows everything, so show you have an open mind.

Once the interview’s over, all you have to do is get some well-deserved rest and wait! Try not to overthink how it went, because in reality you have no idea. Some people think they did awfully, but end up getting an offer, so.

The decision

Okay, here’s the truth: Oxbridge is not the be-all and end-all. It just isn’t. Your worth and intelligence cannot be defined by an institution.

For when you’re waiting for a decision: think of Oxbridge as a bonus. This is what I did: I had another university as my ‘first choice’, so that Cambridge was just an extra.

If you don’t get an offer: You will be so happy at wherever you decide to go instead. Think of it as Oxford or Cambridge’s loss, not yours - hundreds of applicants who are very much smart enough to get a place don’t, and that isn’t because they aren’t good enough.

While it’s okay to feel disappointed, it’s best to focus on the amazing learning experience that applying has been. You’ve shown yourself that you can handle all that while still maintaining your priorities and sense of self. So you should STILL be proud.

If you do get an offer: Congratulations! Party time. Except it’s not time to party just yet, because you’ve still got to get the a level grades to secure your spot.

I hope this helped! Don’t hesitate to ask me anything else you want to know.

Just tagging a few people who have been through the same process/have asked about it: @rebeccaravenclaw @littlebitofstudy @lesbianlondongrammar @sectumsempracurse

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idontknowwhatsarcasmis · 6 years ago

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The Lost Moments - Infinity War

I am SO sorry for almost not keeping my deadline, but I DID IT!!!

HAH! So sorry guys, things have been...bad at home for the past two weeks, but I did it!

It was ridiculously hard to write this chapter cause there's so little time to work around, all happens so fast in this damn film! Sorry if there are any mistakes on timing, etc, buut I did the best I could

Really hope you enjoy it, I loved writing it... also... please don't kill me ^^'' You guys kneeew it was gonna happennnnn!

Ff.net

Ao3

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Natasha closed the locket and put it back it back under her blouse. With a deep sigh, she let her head rest back at the wall behind her.

“Don’t worry Nat, we’ll be going home soon.”

“You said that a month ago, Cap.” Natasha said, annoyed.

“The kids are big now, Nat. They can han-“ Steve started to say, but the glare Natasha sent him was enough to shut him up.

“I know whom Maria and I raised, Rogers. I know they can handle it, and I know that Clint and Laura don’t mind taking them in, but I do. Maria is off doing God knows what with Nick, and I… I need them.”

Her answer was silence.

She looked over the front of the quinjet as they neared the drop position.

“I miss them, Steve.”Natasha said after a while.”I’d gotten used to it… Waking up with the sun shining on my face. Maria’s arms around me. The kids making a gigantic mess while trying to make breakfast for us.”

“I remember when they did that for me… never had so much maple syrup in my life.”

Natasha smiled at that memory. There was still a picture of a very sticky Steve Rogers with Kaelan and Nichole laughing at his side on a portrait in their living room.

Shaking her head, Natasha continued.

“Maria is still working for Fury, with my occasional help, but it isn’t often that she actually has to leave for long. I never thought I’d have these consistencies. Never thought I’d like having them either, Steve… But I do. They’re my… They’re my family.”

He reached out and grasped her hand tightly.

“They’re mine.” She repeated.

“I know Nat… I know it’s not the same, but I miss visiting them too. We’ll be home soon. You’ll see, you’ll take those carbon copies of you and Maria and tell them all the PG parts of our adventures.” He smiled at her and Natasha felt herself responding.

“Soon.”

“And I want Maria’s lasagna.”

Natasha laughed.

“Help me get to my wife asap, Rogers, and it’s a deal.”

A slightly more comfortable silence took over quinjet. Until…

“Guys?”

“Sam?” They both called, Natasha already dreading whatever would come out of the man’s mouth.

“And Vision and Wanda are being attacked.”

“Wait, what?” Cap asked, confused.

Natasha closed her eyes to ask for whatever deity was up there to give her patience. Why did things never go according to plan?

Xxxx

“You’re going home?” Natasha asked, heart rate speeding, a smile spreading to her face.

Maria chuckled on the phone.

“Out of everything I told you, that’s what you got from it?” Her voice was clearly trying to portray annoyance, but Natasha knew better. So many years of marriage, Natasha knew that her wife was rolling her eyes with a fond smile on her face. She closed her eyes, she really missed that smile.

“What else would I care about? You’re safe, Nick’s safe. And you’re going home.”

“I won’t be able to stay long this time though…” Her wife felt the need to point out and it was Natasha’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Don’t care. I’ll still get to see you.”

“You said going home, not coming home, Nat.”

Natasha cursed under her breath at that. Stupid analytical and attention to detail mind – no, never mind. That’s one of the things Natasha loved and found most attractive in Maria.

“I know, Masha. But you’re going home. I will meet you there.”

“Yeah?” Maria asked, voice quiet and Natasha’s heart clenched.

Maria had always been tougher when talking about feelings, even if she was usually that little bit more open when it was about Natasha or their kids. Still, to hear her voice so clearly longing made Natasha want to stop everything just to find her wife and give her a hug. It was just like she’d told Steve, although they hadn’t completely stopped ‘working’, both of them had gotten used to a routine that had them almost every day side by side. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d spent so much time away from each other in one go.

“Yes.” She said assertively.

“I’ll see you soon then, babe.”

“Soon. I love you, Masha.” She said in a playful way after a while.

The low chuckle form the other end of the line send chills down Natasha’s spine and she had to close her eyes again. God, she missed that woman.

“I love you too, babe.” Came the reply and soon the call disconnected.

Silence.

Natasha breathed for a bit, before turning on her heels.

“Steve! I need for this talk with Ross to be as quick as inhumanly possible! Missus will be back for one day and I am not gonna miss her.”

As she approached the pilot chair, Sam jumped out of it. None of the other Avengers dared say a word. In fact, as Natasha took a brief moment to look at their expressions, she saw that they all looked more determined than just a moment before. More focused.

She let her lips form a small smile.

She loved her family. All of her big, weird, ridiculous and caring family.

Xxxx

The quinjet’s ramp had not fully lowered when Natasha jumped, not caring to look back as the ship left again, it’d come back tomorrow bright and early, but right now she didn’t care. She ran. Ran faster than she ever remembered having ran while not gunning for her life.

The front door of her house opened, and the smile that took over Natasha’s face at the sight of her wife putting their children back on the floor as she too started running towards her was large enough that it hurt her face. She didn’t care though. Five steps away from the love of her life, Natasha jumped, letting the momentum carry her the last few meters into the welcoming, strong and warm arms of her Masha. Maria spun her around, one hand around her waist and the other cradling her head, as Natasha’s face burrowed on her neck and legs wrapped tightly around the taller woman’s torso.

“I missed you.” Natasha mumbled, eyes closed, breathing in deep the scent that was just Maria, and that she’d been missing so, so much.

“I missed you too, Nat.”

They just stood there, basking in each other’s presence for a few moments more.

Before long, though, Natasha had to let go of her wife as two shouts of “Momma!” echoed through the house. Smiling, she turned to wrap her arms around the other two most important people in her life. Kaelan and Nicky had both grown so much the past couple of years, it was ridiculous.

Kaelan had been following in Natasha’s footsteps, turning more and more into a spontaneous little prankster that she most often helped instead of chastising, much to her wife’s chagrin. Mother and son had found a rapport in each other that was soon becoming the source of a lot of jokes around the house and their extended family. Kaelan was rapidly learning how to answer rather cheekily at some things, and Natasha knew she should not be as proud of her 5 year old being able to do that as she was. Maria helped in toning it down, though, so it was probably fine.

Their daughter, on the other hand, was basically a carbon copy of Maria’s personality (or as much as she could be at the tender age of 8). She often tried to be more analytic and calm than her little brother, and it always brought a huge smile to Natasha’s face when the two ended up side by side, arms crossed and looking at her with a ‘very much not amused’ expression. Both she and Kaelan cracked at that.

The kids also seemed to have inherited Maria’s nerdy side as well, which always made Natasha roll her eyes fondly at the three of them. It was adorable, really, how Maria would sit down between the two and read the Harry Potter books, then Narnia (“it’s a classic, Natasha”), and so on. She’d never admit it, but even Natasha had come to enjoy listening to the stories – though it might have had more to do with hearing the soothing tone of Maria’s voice than the books themselves.

Along with their passion for reading, their children had also shown a great affinity for athletics, running around and practicing spins and punches and kicks with their mothers (well, as much as normal 5 and 8 year old kids should, anyway). Natasha had never let any of them forget that Nicky had once tackled Maria, and she often challenged her daughter to do it again – a feat that was still eluding her, but she was confident she’d get there one day.

It was perfect. They were perfect. God, she loved all of them

Looking over her kid’s hair, she looked at Maria, inviting her wordlessly to participate on the hug. She didn’t hesitate, and Natasha just closed her eyes, wanting to burn the moment in her memory forever. Her two children pressed tightly between her and her wife, and Maria’s arms around all of them, providing warmth and protection. She didn’t need anything else.

Xxxx

It was only later, as they were lying in bed, cuddled together, with their clothes thrown all over the room, that Natasha finally felt herself really relax. There, in the cocoon of her and Maria’s bedroom, beneath their covers, skin against skin, still slightly damp from sweat and pleasantly sore from having each other again after so long. Combined with having spent the day playing around with their children, catching up and putting them to bed, it was heaven. At the same time though, it brought the memory of those horrible months without any of this and what they still had to face the next few days. Tightening her arms around Maria, Natasha broke the silence.

“Never four months again, Masha. I can’t. Not anymore.”

“Where’s the tough, focused, hard Black Widow agent?”

“Gone the minute she saw you smile and shine those big bright blue eyes at her.” Natasha said, eyes not shying away from Maria’s, which suddenly grew very serious.

Natasha didn’t know what was it, why there was this desperation in her heart, on her mind. Didn’t know if it was something specific, a bad feeling, or just how she’d really came to need Maria by her side these past few years, that were simply about how much she loved her. Hell, maybe it was all of that together – hopefully the bad feeling that something bad might happen wouldn’t amount to anything, though.

Maria nodded, seemingly to have realized that the desperation on Natasha’s grip and voice was not her being overdramatic. She was serious.

“I’ll talk to Nick, babe.” She said, the thumb of her right hand caressing Natasha’s cheek softly. “After this last part of the mission, which will not be more than one or two weeks, I’ll make sure to say I need to be home.”

“Promise?” Natasha asked, almost rolling her eyes at herself at how pathetic she sounded, but not being able to shake this horrible feeling on her chest. Maria didn’t think it was silly apparently, she brought their foreheads together, looking deep into her eyes.

“Promise.” She swore.

They remained in silence for a few minutes before Natasha felt Maria frown. “And you be careful too, Nat… I don’t like what’s happening with Thanos. I’ve no doubt you guys will be able to win this, but you’ve gotta come back, babe.”

“Is that an order Commander Hill?” She smiled. The trust and confidence that Maria transmitted through such simple words enough for her to draw strength from.

“It is, agent Hill.”

“Aye aye, ma’am.”

Natasha closed her eyes at that, letting those familiar words wash over her. Maria had promised. Just one more mission and they could go back to being the ridiculous happy gay couple with the nice house and two adorable kids.

One more mission. One really high staked, hard mission, but just one nonetheless. Just one.

Xxxx

The sun had barely risen in the sky when Natasha looked at the quinjet lowering itself. She tightened her hold on her very sleepy children, both of who had insisted on being there to say bye to her mum. Maria was behind her, long arms wrapped around Natasha and hands on the kid’s shoulders as they all waited. Clint and Laura were a few steps behind, waiting with them, since Maria would leave for New York with Nick not soon after Natasha made her way to wherever Rogers thought it’d be a good idea to take Vision to.

The first one out of the ship was Vision, a pleasant smile on his face as he floated to approach them.

“Commander Hill.”

“Not a Commander anymore, Vision, you know that. It’s just Maria.” Maria said, a small smile playing on her lips as she accepted his brief (and still a bit awkward) hug.

“You’ll always be the commander of this team, Maria.” Vision said, before turning to the kids.”Little Hills, how have you been?” Both kids jumped to hug Vision, trusting that he would, as he always did when he visited, float a bit higher, holding each of them in one arm.

Natasha couldn’t help the bigger smile that spread on her face as she watched the joy on their little faces that just a few minutes before had been twisted with worry and sadness (and sleepiness, it was quite early).

Steve, Wanda and the others all gave Maria, Laura, Client and the kids (once they were back on the floor) quick, but tight, hugs, before they turned to Natasha and she nodded.

She pulled Kaelan and Nicky a few steps away and kneeled so she could be at eye level with them.

“You take care of each other, yeah?” She said more than asked them. Making sure to meet their eyes as they nodded. “And respect Laura and Client, okay?”

“Yes, momma.” Nicky said, and it broke Natasha’s heart to see unshed tears in her eyes. It broke her even more to see them already trailing down Kaelan’s cheek.

With one hand on one cheek of each, rubbing softly with her thumb, Natasha continued with what she hoped was a comforting and confident tone.

“I was talking to your mum, and we decided that after this, that’s it. No more going away. We’ll be home.”

“Like uncle Clint?” Kaelan gasped, eyes growing big with excitement. Even Nicky’s looked hopeful.

“Just like uncle Clint. Mama and I will be around you guys so much, you’ll get sick of us.” She said, forcing a playful tone through the lump she could feel on her throat.

The two threw themselves at her, hugging her with all their might and Natasha did the same (well, the same within reason, of course).

“Not possible, momma.” Nicky’s quiet voice made a single tear roll down her cheek and she discreetly wiped it on her hair.

“I can’t wait!”

“Me neither, guys. It’ll be here before you know it.” She said as she drew back, noticing Laura and Client putting one hand on each other her kids’ shoulders.

“I love you two. Behave.” She said as she got up.

“Love you two, momma.” Their voice sounded in unison, and she smiled at that.

A long look passed between her and Clint before he just nodded, giving her a quick hug.

“Just be careful.” He answered her thanks as they parted. Laura did the same.

As she made her way back to her wife, she was just stepping back from hugging Steve, the others had all already gone back to the quinjet.

“You better take care of her, Rogers.”

“Always, Commander.”

“Good.” It said a lot that she didn’t correct his use of her previous title, and that her posture was as stiff as it had been to instill obedience in senior agents at SHIELD, once upon a time. She meant business. Natasha rolled her eyes at her adorable wife.

“I’ll be fine, babe. You focus on taking care of things on your end and yourself, yeah? Please be careful, Masha.” She said, taking one step closer to her, brows touching and one hand cupping her cheek as both of Maria’s were tight on her hips.

“I will.” There was no hesitation there, and Natasha breathed easier.

“Remember your promise? Years ago?”

“I do. And I’m not going anywhere, Nat. You’re stuck with me. For the rest of your long, long life.”

“Good. I better be.”

They were silent for a few seconds, but she could feel everyone itching to get going behind her. She knew she was being selfish. Knew that even having been able to spend the day and night here had already been a lot. She took a deep breath, trying as hard as she could to keep back tears.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Maria’s response was automatic. Voice so full of emotion that Natasha had to stifle a gasp and brace herself not to just throw her arms around her wife and tell the others to leave without her.

Nodding slightly, she pressed a quick, desperate kiss to Maria’s lips before spinning on the spot and marching towards the ramp, not daring to look back until the doors of the quinjet were already closing and the ship was beginning to rise.

Maria was holding each of their kids in one arm, both whom were waving at her. All three pair of eyes focused on hers. Natasha looked at Nichole, at Kaelan and then at Maria’s as the last bit of the door closed.

She closed her eyes, trying to keep that imagine in her head.

“We’ll see them soon, Nat.” Steve said by her side.

Natasha just nodded, not trusting her voice. Soon. They had to. Cause she had no idea what she’d do if they didn’t.

Xxxx

“Wakanda?” Maria’s voice was incredulous.

“Yep.” Natasha couldn’t help the smile on her face.

“Argh, and I’m stuck in New York.” She could hear the eye-roll in her wife’s tone and it was hilarious. It made the whole ‘it might be the end of the world again’ situation kinda better. Well… not better, but it made it suck less. Which was probably her intention on saying it like that.

“I’m friends with the King, you know? I might be able to bring you here for our anniversary next year, what do you think?” Natasha asked, looking through the nearest window. The scenery was beautiful. The threes, the sea, the architecture which was just a perfect mix of old and new. Natasha just knew that Maria would love the natural aspects of the kingdom as much as she would the nerdy ones. She might even return home from the trip with a few gadgets to help her on her missions. Then again, they said they’d retire after this so maybe not that many souvenirs. Still, it’d be fun.

“Yeah?” Maria asked, tone so hopeful and ridiculously adorable, that Natasha had to bite her lips to stop a found laughter from coming out.

“Yeah.” She could just see it. Them. Leisure walks following the river. Resting by the shore. Trekking through the woods. Shopping on the Wakanda market. Making love, time and time again, in their completely over the top room. “Definitely.”

“I’d like that.” Her voice was quiet and, if Natasha dared to think it, dreamy. “I’d really like that.”

“Good. So we’ll both finish these missions, save the world again, spend the next few months tied to the hip with our two adorable kids, then ship them off for 2 to 4 weeks to Pepper and Tony while we come here enjoy our anniversary. How does that sound?” Natasha asked, eyes closed and a smile playing on her lips.

“Can’t wait. For any of it.” Maria sighed. “I miss waking up with you in my arms. The kids jumping up and down our bed.”

“I miss it too, baby…very much. You’ve been spoiling me, Masha.”

“Didn’t hear you complaining before.”

“Yeah well, it’s gotten worse since we got married.”

“Worse or better?”

“Both in a way, I suppose. Matter of perspective.”

“Well, you’re the one who wanted to put a ring on it.” Maria quipped. Natasha could just picture the smirk on the other woman’s voice, and she rolled her eyes.

“Dork.”

“Normally you’re the dork and I’m the nerd one.”

“Yeah, well, guess I rubbed off on you.”

There was just a long enough pause after Natasha said those words that she knew Maria was about to say something… different.

“Actually it’s been far too long since you’ve done that.”

Natasha almost chocked. She did not know she’d say that.

“C-o-m-m-a-n-d-e-r!”

“Technically it’s just Mrs Hill now, as I’ve been reminding people a lot lately. And my point still stands.”

“We saw each other a few hours ago.” She shook her head at that, trying to keep her thoughts from rushing towards last night.

“You saying that’s not long enough for it to be too long already? And besides, before yester night it’d been far, far too long.”

Natasha closed her eyes, the memories of the night she’d spent with her wife coming back at full force. “…”

“Nat?” Maria asked after she went silence for far too long.

“Yep. I changed my mind, it’s been way too long already, come over?”

It was Maria’s turn to take her time to answer her.

“God, I’d love nothing more.” By her tone of voice, Natasha could hear a sort of desperation that she was not used to hearing from her wife.

Her heart clenched at the danger she knew both she and Maria were about to face and prayed, more than she’d ever had in her whole life, for them to come out unscathed. For them to come out alive. She needed to see Maria after this was done. There was no other option, no other outcome she’d accept. As soon as Thanos was dealt with, she’d be back in her wife’s arms, and no one would force them apart ever again. Nick and the other Avengers would just have to learn that they were a package deal now. More so than before. A retired package-deal at that. The world would have to be really ending again for them to leave their home (together, never on separate ways again), and even then Natasha would have to consider (that was a lie, of course, Maria and her would never shy away from such grave danger).

“I know.” She just whispered.

Just then a knock sounded. She bit back a curse. Taking a deep breath, she answered.

“Yeah?”

“They’re ready.” Banner’s voice came from behind the door and she appreciated him not having opened it. She just realized that her cheeks were wet. She’d started crying without even noticing it.

“Thanks.”

Natasha took a shaky breath as the footsteps walked away from the room she was.

“You gotta go?” Maria’s voice was quiet and Natasha closed her eyes again.

“…”

“Nat?”

“Yeah…”

“We’ll talk soon, babe. I should probably go too, Nick will be getting cranky for staying still too long soon.”

“I’ll tell him you said that.”

“No need, I’ll tell him myself, he does get ridiculously cranky.”

Natasha just chuckled.

After a while of silence, she gave a wistful sigh.

“You know, I keep remembering our wedding.”

“Oh?”

“Can’t I remember one of my happiest memories?”

Maria gave a small happy laugh.

“By all means, I was just wondering why you mentioned it now.”

“I just can’t believe it’s been this long.” She really couldn’t.

With their jobs, their crazy life. Who she was, and who she had been. It seemed like such a ridiculous dream that Maria would even have flirted back with her all those years ago, let alone marry and stay married, have kids and all.

“Hum... I never doubted our feelings and our ability to make it here, Nat, though.” She said with such certainty that made Natasha’s whole body tingle with a pleasant warmth. “However, I must agree on the long lasting marriage part.”

Natasha frowned, but before she could ask what Maria had meant, she continued.

“It’s crazy to think about it. I mean, what with so many almost-proposals, leading me on like that and all.”

“Oh, shut up!”

They both shared a small snicker and a half pleasant, half tense silence after it.

Natasha took a deep breath, knowing she had to leave.

“I love you so much, Maria. So fucking much.”

“After all this time?” She just knew there was a smile on her wife’s face.

“Always.” Natasha answered, a grin stretching on her face as she heard Maria laughing on the other end of the line.

“And you dare call me a nerd!”

“You made me addicted to those damn books, not my fault!” Natasha said, indignantly.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

Natasha bit her lip, trying to find a way to close the conversation, without really wanting to. Trying to find a way to tell her that they’d get many more moments together, but being scared of making the promise. She needed… needed…

“We’ll have many more books to get addicted to together, Nat.”

It was scary how well Maria could read her silences even when being so far away. How could just always say exactly what Natasha needed, when she needed. Natasha didn’t know what the heck she’d done to deserve that woman, but she was more thankful to have her love than she’d ever been for anything else.

“Promise?”

“Promise. I told you. I’m not leaving you, Hill. Ever. You’re stuck with me now. Forever.”

One more beat of silence and Natasha forced herself to get up, turning towards the door.

“You’re stuck with me too. Forever. Never leave me, Masha.”

Maria chuckled and asked in a teasing tone.

“Is that an order, Agent Hill?”

“It is, Commander.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am.”

Xxxx

By the time Natasha realized what had happened, actually realized it, her phone was already halfway to her ear, thumb pressing on speed dial 1.

With the first ring unanswered, came the shaking. A violent one that almost made her drop the phone. The second ring brought her heartbeat to double time. By the third a sense of dread started spreading. The fourth and fifth made the back of Natasha’s eyes start to burn with an intensity she’d never know before. The sixth and seventh made her start a mumbling mantra.

Please, please, pick up, please don’t do this to me, please.

With the eighth and ninth, her knees hit the ground and sobs started to break out.

You promised, Masha. Please.

The tenth and voicemail message with the sweet voice of her wife drew out a painful, grutal sound from deep inside her. A despair so raw that Natasha didn’t even know she was capable of.

No.

She couldn’t do that to her. Maria was her rock.

Please no.

Maria was her everything. Her soul, her confidante, her lover, her best friend, her wife… hers.

“Not her.”

This wasn’t happening. Not her, it could not be. She had promised. She needed Maria like she needed to breathe.

Redial.

Please connect.

Ever since she had become ‘Natasha Romanoff’, she’d been there. Since training at SHIELD. Maria had always been there.

Voicemail.

She needed her to function. To live.

Redial. Voicemail.

“No. NO!” She was sure no one could have understood her as a scream that was so raw in its rage and hurt and desperation erupted from deep inside. This could not be happening.

Not her. Not HER.

Her fist met the ground repeatedly as her heart tried to comprehend something her mind was already painfully aware of.

And then a silver shine caught her eye.

Her necklace. Probably jostled from its hiding place by her repeatedly punching the earth.

Beat.

Something in her head clicked. Her heart stopped again. She felt dizzy, any breath she had left her body as her unfocused gaze fell on her phone again. With fingers trembling so much she could hardly press 2 on the phone, she brought the device to her ear.

Ring

Ring – connect.

“Momma?!” Her daughters voice sounded hysterical and Natasha didn’t get to even feel relieved at hearing her alive and well.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” She asked, her despair, she was sure, as apparent as her daughter’s. It was proof of her having developed good maternal instincts that she could even say anything right then. This need to calm her kid even though her heart had stopped the minute Maria had failed to pick up her phone. She closed her eyes.

“Ma, it’s Kaelan, Momma, h-he, he…” She started sobbing and Natasha somehow managed to do a soothing sound.

“Baby, talk to me, what happened to your brother?” She asked, pleading as if that would changed what her broken heart already knew had happened.

Please no.

Please not her little boy. Not him as well. Was it not enough to rip out one half of her soul, did they need another piece as well?

Please.

“H-He vanished M-Ma. Just..-l-like h-he bec-came d-d-dust…”Her voice was shaking so much it was hard to make out the words, but Natasha understood. Her grip on the phone so hard that she heard it crack. Steve looked at her and she saw the tears and despair in his eyes as he seemed to realize what was happening on her end.

“Baby?” She whispered.

“He’s g-gone M-Ma…just g-gone…”

And Natasha crumbled.

#blackhill #blackhill fanfic #avengers fanfic #avengers #avengers infinity war #infinty war #maria hill #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #fanfic #infinity war fanfic

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huntertales · 6 years ago

Text

I Don’t Need Saving | Chapter Three.

Pairing: Superhero!Dean Winchester x Journalist!Reader

Word Count: 6,885. (So...that happened.)

Warning: None.

Summary: To friends and family he’s known as Dean Winchester, at night he transforms into the Red Hood. The vigilante of the city beating up criminals and saving damsels from danger. Nobody has seen his face, nobody knows his true identity. Except for a few helpful allies. The reader is best friends with Dean for long as she can remember, and head over heels in love with the man. But she doesn’t have mutual feelings for the Red Hood.

However an encounter with the vigilante starts to change her opinion on the hero, and soon, she grows a fascination with him. Somehow she finds herself growing a strange friendship with the vigilante she once was supposed to hate, not realizing it’s someone she knew. Dean, hiding behind the mask of the Red Hood, shows his true feelings for the reader in disguise. Little do they realize both of them are holding a secret from each other that will put them in danger.

*Based upon Jensen Ackles as The Red Hood.

Previous Chapter | Story Masterlist

The next morning was Saturday, the start of the weekend and an escape from work for some who worked the traditional nine to five, for you it was just another day on the calendar. Working as a journalist meant you had no set hours you needed to abide by, just an deadline to meet. Sometimes you loved the freedom to work whenever you wanted within reason, sometimes you hated it because the job called for your attention when you least expected it—and at some inconvenient times, too. But you wouldn't chose any other career in the world.

You loved being front and center at breaking news and chasing down every lead and interviewing people to get their side of the story to give the most factual article for the public to read. Lucky for you there was never a shortage of stories to write in the city. Crime never stopped in a city that never slept. You lost count how many articles you wrote about from crooked business owners to major drug busts. And the world around you provided even more things to write about, too.

When you did come to the office to either work on an upcoming article or try to get done writing done, you dragged your feet gave a deathly glare for anyone who dare so look in your direction to say hello, or God forbid, smile. You hated early mornings when a big article was due in such a short time span, because it meant you were up half the night making sure everything was perfect. You took pride in your job and reporting the news seriously. However you were feeling quite the opposite when you rolled out of bed today. You walked into the building with a smile on your face and actually greeted fellow coworkers who passed you by. Today was going to be a good day.

“Good morning.” You greet your partner and best friend Cas with a warm smile and friendly tone of voice he would have never expected out of someone like you. You stopped by his desk before your own, your bag draped over your shoulder and your jacket still on. In your hands were two coffees in a paper tray and a crumbled up to go bag from your favorite shop. The man stared at you for a moment with a slightly hesitant look. “What? It’s coffee, Cas. I didn’t lace it with arsenic.”

“It’s not my birthday.” Cas thought to out loud to what could be the occasion where you brought him coffee and were in the office so early, especially on a Saturday. He tried coming up with an idea that might explain what you were doing here and looking so cheery, but he came up with nothing. He reached out a hand to grab the coffee that you offered him. “Did you make yourself an Irish coffee or something? Most of the time I have to keep my distance until you circled around the break room twice to get your coffee intake. And you even more bitchier when we’ve got a story due.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, pretending to be a little offended at the description of you that too accurate not to be you. “A girl can’t be happy?”

“In your case, no.” Cas replied as he took a sip of the coffee after making sure it was cool enough so it wouldn’t burn him.

You narrowed your eyes on the man as you dropped your bag to the floor and sat down on the edge of his desk that you knew could hold your weight. You placed down the bag of food and pushed it closer to you when he tried to sneak a peek at what it was. “Hey! That’s not for you.” You said, nearly slapping his greedy hands away. “Is Gabriel in? I need to talk to him.”

“Yeah. He’s late to everything except work.” Cas said. Your happy persona faltered for a moment as you inhaled a deep breath, suddenly overcome with nervousness at what you were about to do. “Is this about the article?”

“Sort of.” You admitted. “I want to ask him about a idea that I know would make a perfect front page story. But I’m gonna need some time.”

Cas leaned back in his office chair and grew a smirk across his lips that was hidden behind the paper cup he brought to his mouth to take another sip. “Oh. Are we talking about one of Y/N Singer’s famous investigative articles?”

“Something like that.” You said, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well, what is it?” Cas asked out of curiosity.

Before you could answer your friend’s question, you saw your boss coming out from the break room and heading back to his office with a cup of coffee in his hands. You jumped to your feet and grabbed the paper bag, following behind Gabriel as you called out his name to get his attention. Cas rolled his eyes and grabbed his camera before following behind you, knowing he was going be called in so Gabriel could inspect the photographs he took the previous day and pick one that would be printed and others published on the site to compliment the article you wrote and capture the feeling in the photographs he took.

You and Cas had worked together on many stories over the years since you were hired at the paper, and that’s where your friendship started. You were good with words, Cas had a talent at takings photographs. It didn’t matter if there was complete chaos, it didn’t matter if the sky was falling. He always managed to capture what was going on around him without fail. Both of you were a duo that Gabriel swore was gift from God.

You straightened out your shoulders and made your way into the office of your editor who sat at his desk, pretending to look busy like he always did to get people to leave him alone. But you knew if you didn't do this now, you were never going to get the courage to ask him again. When he noticed your approaching figure, you greeted him with a smile as you plopped down the bag in front of his face. Your smile grew wider when his eyes dropped to the label on the bag that was from his favorite bakery you saw him come into the office with at least once a week.

You learned from another writer that one way to persuade him into letting you do an article was to bribe him with food to satisfy his sweet tooth. While the contents inside was his favorite, you pulled it away from him before he could even reach out an arm and grab it from you.

“I want the front page of Sunday’s paper.” You demanded as you told him the reason why you were here, but the tone of voice came off more nervous than you had intended for it to be.

“Good morning to you, too, Sugar.” Gabriel asked, his eyes darting straight to you when you barged into his office without even saying hello, which wasn’t like you. You crossed your arms over your chest and nodded your head to the paper bag that he was eyeing. He opened up the bag to see that it was his favorite. He slowly crumpled up the bag and raised his brow in curiosity. “What can I do for you, Y/N? Excellent work on the article, by the way. Read it last night. But I’m sorry. I would love to put your story on the front page, but there was that whole—“

“Thank you. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I want to do an investigative piece. Something that’s gonna take some time.” You told your boss. Gabriel seemed curious as he wondered what you had in mind. You inhaled a deep breath as you forced yourself to tell him what you wanted to write about. “I want to do a piece about the Red Hood.”

"The Red Hood?" Cas repeated the name of the stranger who had made headlines a few times here and there over the past few years since coming out of nowhere. You always gritted your teeth and unwillingly wrote about the hero and their good deed. You looked over to the side to see he was standing right next to you with his camera in his hand and a baffled look on his face. "I thought you didn't—”

“I don’t like him/her/them.” You said, bringing up the opinion you shared with him last night after you interviewed the three women in the hospital, who claimed the masked vigilante saved their lives. “Whoever the hell is running around this city.”

“You want the front page to say you don’t like some guy who saved three innocent girls from God knows what future? Not to mention dozens other crimes they stopped? Sorry. Not gonna happen.” Gabriel said. You rolled your eyes from how he was shooting you down without letting you pitch your real story. “Go work for Fox news if you want to spread your opinion. Here at the Daily Insider we like to report on important things that—”

"What if I personally got an interview with them?" You asked, cutting off your boss. Gabriel had one hand shoved into the paper bag to grab his breakfast as Cas was flipping through the pictures on his camera to pick out the best ones, but both men stopped from what you said. You swallowed slightly and went at trying to explain your idea without sounding like a lunatic. "You're always telling us to ask the questions everybody else is afraid to do. Push the boundaries and get to the real source of what’s going on. That’s what our readers count on when they read our newspapers. And this city knows the Red Hood—but they don’t know him or her. And I don’t know about you, but I’ve got a few questions of my own.”

Gabriel pulled his hand out from the bag and settled it on the desk as he arched his brow. You knew by that look you got his curiosity going from what you were saying. “Yeah? Like what?”

"What made them decide to dress up in a costume and put the justice system into their own hands? How do they know where all these crimes are happening? And most importantly, how about the countless people he's beaten up and caused serious damage?" You proposed just a few questions you had come up with last night for an interview you planned out all in your head that could have taken place behind the plexiglass window of the jail where the Red Hood would be in after you found out who they were. “And I know, I know. They're criminals. The public doesn't care about them. But you know what the public cares about? The fact that their taxes are being spent on said criminals to pay for their medical bills. And the cops who protect this very city. Red Hood is taking the law into his own hands and making it harder for them to do their job. This...masked psychopath is not a hero. And I want to prove it.”

"What are you going to do? Write an article asking for them to stop by at your house to have a formal interview?" Gabriel asked you, entertaining the idea. You rolled your eyes and shook your head no. "You can't get an interview with someone who doesn't want their identity found out. Hence the whole secret identity, Sugar."

"I said I wanted an interview, not to dox the person behind the mask." You corrected him, even though that was your true intentions. Gabriel still seemed hesitant to say yes. "Come on, Gabe. Who else can say they've got a personal interview with the one and only Red Hood? Think of how many papers we could sell.”

Gabriel thought about what you said and sat on the idea for a moment. You bit the inside of your cheek as you impatiently waited for him to answer. He looked at you for a moment before he rolled his eyes. “Fine. If you can somehow give me a legitimate story and somehow pin down this person to ask a few questions, the front page is all yours.” You broke out into a smile as you got ready to thank him, but your boss stopped you with a few guidelines. "This is a personal project I want you working in your free time. If I ask you to cover another story, that comes first. I mean it. And don't do anything stupid to get yourself killed.”

“Of course. I leave all the stupid stunts to this one to get the money shot.” You said, nudging your fellow friend in the shoulder as you gave him a playful wink. Cas gave you a sarcastic smile before rolling his eyes. He headed forward to Gabriel to discuss what he came in here for when your boss waved you off. “You won’t regret it, Gabe. Promise!”

Gabriel brushed off your words and waved you away to complete the job that he was unwillingly giving you time to do. You headed back to your desk with a victorious smirk on your lips, wondering how good it was going to take this son of a bitch down once and for all.

+ + +

Even though Gabriel had given you the go ahead for the story, there was still so many little things you needed to worry about before you could actually sit down and start writing. Your editor thought you were going to change your tune about the stranger behind the mask when you sat down and began to hear the good they had done for the city. But you couldn’t do that. Maybe it was because you grown up always being told that violence didn’t solve anything and your father was a cop. Maybe it was because you were a good person who obeyed the law. Maybe it was because you saw a good man spiral into a pit of self destructive behavior to solve a crime he would never be able to. And his kids were still paying the price for his actions. You wanted to know everything about this person; from who they were to why they thought it was their responsibility to stop muggers and beat up sex traffickers. (Okay. If you had to admit one good thing he had done it was saving those three girls. But a good deed didn’t stop all the bad he had also brought on.) If he knew that there was a serious problem going down than they should call the cops. Not put their life in danger and get themselves—or worse, the victim they were trying to save—from being killed. There had to be someone out there in this city who shared the same opinion as you.

You spent the rest of your day between working on a list of topics and tasks you needed to complete for the story. The vigilante was a hushed secret nobody liked to talk about, it was sort of like politics. Everyone had an opinion on the matter, and they thought they were always right. There was a few published articles about the Red Hood’s heroic antics, but you wanted more than just someone else’s glorified words. You wanted to speak to the victims themselves and get to the police reports of what happened. Maybe even talk to a few cops to see how they felt about him. You even contemplated on talking to a few criminals who were busted by the vigilante to see what they remembered.

You immersed yourself into work and search, not realizing the morning had blended into the afternoon, and the lunch Cas had brought you from your favorite food cart was devoured between the things you were doing. As the time ticked away and the office thinned out, you didn’t realize how late it ended up until your computer screen went black. Your heart suddenly stopped in absolute fear from what happened, everything you had been working on all day was still there. All the news articles you found and people you were trying to track down...all gone just like that. “All work and no play makes Y/N a lame friend.” You quickly tore your gaze away from the black screen and to the person who was to blame. Your expression dropped into an annoyed glare when you saw Charlie standing in front of your desk with her finger on the power button to the screen thankfully. Cas was standing right next to her with his messenger bag strap resting on his shoulder and a twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes.

“Charlie, I love you, but I’ve got a big story I’m trying to work on.” You said to her, lightly slapping her hand away so you could turn on the screen again to get back to work. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Charlie to pop into the office. She sometimes visited when things were slow at her own job, and she even helped with an I.T. problem instead of paying someone to do it. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you and Dean had a ton of stuff to do today.” “We did. But one of the joys of being self employed is that you get to make your own hours. And we mutually agreed it was time to call it quits.” Charlie said. You scoffed at her bragging as you went back to work, oblivious to the time just yet. The redhead looked over at Cas as she raised her brow slightly from how concentrated you were. “Is she always like this?” “Only when she’s got something on her mind.” Cas replied. You rolled your eyes and saved your work when you saw the time. You started to shut down your computer and gathering your things, calling it a day. “Wow. You’re actually coming out with us tonight?” You gave the man a confused look as you slipped on your jacket and then began to shuffle up some papers you needed to help conduct further research. “What are you talking about?” You asked, shoving the papers into a manilla folder and then straight into your bag for safekeeping. “You’re kidding, right? It’s my birthday.” Charlie told you in a dead serious tone of voice. You felt your breathing stop when your best friend mentioned something that you swore you would never forget. The panicked look on your face quickly made the redhead break out into a smile as she lightly punched you in the shoulder. “God, you’re so gullible. It’s kinda sad with you being a journalist and everything.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly on the redhead as you gave her a type of glare that Cas was all too familiar with. It was the exact same one he expected to be greeted with this morning, but it seemed you were saving it for someone else. “Word of advice,” He leaned forward slightly so he was whispering to Charlie. “I’d be careful if she tries and offers you coffee. She might try to poison you.” “Nah. I’ll just brutally murder the both of you and write about it. ‘Charlie Bradbury and Castiel Novak disappear, never to be seen again.’” You said, coming up with a fake front page header as you gestured a hand to mimic the title. Charlie pretended to be scared from the empty threat and began walking in sync with you and Cas. “Is Sam coming, too?” “Yeah. He’s coming out for a couple of beers. Dean really wanted to get all of us together since it’s been forever since we all hung out. And he especially wanted to see you out having some fun because he knows how much of a workaholic you can be." Charlie said.

Her voice shifted into a playful tone that made your cheeks suddenly feel like they were growing warmer at how easy she was for her to tease you about Dean. You lightly shoved her forward as you continued walking to the exit, trying to hide the butterflies that were starting to flutter in your stomach from the shenanigans all of you were bound to get into tonight.

+ + +

Cas split up with you and Charlie when you mentioned about wanting to go back to your place to change out of the clothes you had been wearing all day and put away your work belonging before meeting back at the bar. The both of you made it there a little while later, the bar you frequented since your early college days was rather busy for the time of night. The place was a hole in the wall bar downtown where the beer was cheap and the company was decently friendly. You made your way through a small crowd of people and to the back of the bar where you spotted Cas talking to a familiar face. A smile broke out when you saw his ginormous frame with a head of hair that always seemed a little too perfect.

“Sammy!” You called out the man’s name in an excited tone as you approached him and Cas. You noticed he wasn't dressed in his usual suit and tie, but in jeans and flannel that almost seemed like a Winchester uniform. Sam momentary paused his conversation when he noticed you were finally here. You waved your hands for him to bend down slightly to your level so you could give him a hug. The both of you embraced one another in a tight hug after the long time it’d been since seeing each other in person. When you pulled away from him, your smile dropped as you lightly shoved him in his chest. “It’s about time since I’ve seen you. Does the firm chain you to your desk?”

“Kinda. I’m up to my eyeballs in cases right now.” Sam said, giving you a glimpse of what his life had been like as a lawyer. You pretended to wipe away a tear at his life out of sarcasm. “But I managed to pick myself free for a couple of hours before they find out.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to break you out more often. It’s been too long since I’ve seen your handsome face, Sammy.” You said, teasing him slightly as you reached up to lightly pinch him on the cheek and use the same nickname he once hated when he started college. And speaking of handsome faces, you dropped your arm back down to your side and began to absentmindedly look for Sam’s older brother. “Hey, do you know where—“

"Hey, sweetheart." You turned around just in time to see the person you were looking for. Dean greeted you with a smile as he came back from the bar, his fingers cradling two beer bottles by the neck that you presumed for himself and Charlie. The other drink he was holding was your favorite cocktail. "I thought I might save you two the trouble."

"Thank you. That's so sweet of you." You said with a smile of your own at his generosity. You grabbed the drink from him and took a sip to see that it was exactly how you liked it. "I swear you've got a sixth sense or something. Charlie and I just got here."

"Well, I guess we're just that in tune with each other." Dean replied, shrugging his shoulders. He took a sip of his own beer as you took another one from your drink, your eyes moving around the bar as his wandered over to the redhead standing next to you. She hid her smirk behind her beer, knowing it was her who had told him about your upcoming arrival and suggested to get drinks ahead. You wondered if you could find a spot in the bar to occupy when you saw a wave of people come in. Dean heard the sound of pool balls clacking against one another, a sound of a game he was all too familiar with. "Hey, Sammy. Up for a game?"

One of the good things about the bar was that there was a few activities around the place for people to enjoy from foosball to darts, and the game of pool Dean suggested to his younger brother. While it was still early in the night, you knew in a few hours the competitiveness among the players would be replaced with giggles and people missing the target. Sam shrugged his shoulders and opened his mouth to agree to the game, knowing he was the only one good enough to play against the man. Charlie, always being the one to be a good wing woman to her best friends, quickly spoke up before the boys could get going.

“Sam!” Charlie suddenly shouted the younger Winchester’s name, taking the four of you slightly by surprise. Sam gave her a confused expression from what she just did, you let out a quiet chuckle from her outburst. Charlie smiled as she quickly struck up a conversation. “W-Where’s Amelia? I thought you would sure bring her around.”

You watched as the mention of Sam's year and a half long relationship with his girlfriend, Amelia Richardson, didn't turn out the way you expected. You and Dean were the only single people in your small group of friends. Charlie had been going serious with Dorothy for the past few years, Cas hadn't really settled down. But you knew that his friend, Meg Masters, was always something with no strings attached. However you always suspected he had some feelings for her. You had a few relationships of your own that barely went anywhere from a couple dates to a handful of months. Dean was in the middle of the spectrum from how his love life went.

You wouldn't say that he was a complete womanizer, but he had his fair share of one night stands that you accidentally walked in on and while they were doing the walk of shame out of his apartment. When they saw you, it was the awkward pause of silence wondering if you were the the other woman. Dean had only two real relationships in his entire lifetime for long as you had known him. There was Cassidy, a sweet girl he had a thing for when you were in college. He started to fall for her, but things were moving faster than she liked, so she dumped him. And then there was Lisa Braden...the woman you thought Dean was going to spend his life with.

However if anyone's love life was tragic it had to be poor Sammy. He got his for real relationship when the both of you were in college. During his time at Stanford he met a woman named Jess, a sweet blonde who was the apple of Sam's eye. You met her a few times when Sam brought her home for holidays and summer break. Sam had confided in you at the fact that he was wanted to marry her. Unfortunately tragedy struck one night in their apartment they shared got had a gas leak, and the place burst up into flames. There was no way that it could have been prevented, but Sam blamed himself for months after her death.

You thought he was never going to get over her. And then he met a woman named Madison. The both of them seemed cute together, however she ended up breaking up with him after his dog, Riot, bit her by accident. And then there was the one crazy ex he never liked to talk about, Ruby. She had almost all of you fooled that she was Sam's perfect match. Except it turned out she was a complete psycho. A few years after Ruby came Amelia, a veterinarian who had been going steady with the man for the past year. Both of them seemed like wedding bells were in the air, however the sullen look in Sam’s face made your heart sink.

“Yeah, about that…” Sam cleared his his throat as he broke the news to all of you. “Amelia and I are no longer. We broke up a month ago. She didn't like the fact that I was spending almost all my time at the office and didn't want to move to Texas with her like we talked about. So we decided to end things mutually."

"Oh, Sammy." You whispered the man's name as you placed a hand on his back to give him a supportive pat. "I'm so sorry. I wish you told me."

Sam shrugged his shoulders, "I’ve had time to move on. I had a feeling things were heading in this direction. Besides, there’s a new woman who started at the firm. Her name is Eileen.”

“Sammy, you sly dog.” Dean broke out into a grin at the mention of another woman his brother was interested in so soon. “Normally you sulk for weeks before putting yourself back out there.”

“It’s not like that…yet.” Sam said, giving his brother a slightly annoyed look from the way he thought so quickly. You lightly shoved Dean before you looked back at the younger man with a curious expression to know more about this Eileen. “She’s pretty cool. And smart. And, this is gonna be random, but do you guys don’t know any ASL?”

“I know a few sayings. Dorothy has a deaf cousin. She taught me a few things.” Charlie said. She reached out and grabbed Sam by the arm as she face him a smile. “Come on. I can teach you a few things like ‘Hi’ and all that.”

“What about the—“ You pointed to the pool table that was going to be free for so long before it was going to be snatched up by another group.

“Hey, didn’t you tell me you always want to learn? Well, this is the perfect time. Dean can teach you and I can show Sam some sign language.” Charlie suggested a way to spend the night. You felt your cheeks suddenly start burning when she gave you a cheery smile, the kind you saw yesterday morning when she was talking about your feelings to the older Winchester. You gave her a glare as she began walking away with a smirk you wanted to smack off her face.

You and Dean weren’t a stranger to hanging out with one another, you practically did it every chance you weren’t busy. While you were hoping to catch up with Sam, Charlie had other plans for tonight. You tightened your grip around the glass as you looked over at the older Winchester with a small smile.

“Out of all the years we’ve been coming here, you seriously never learned how to play?” Dean couldn't help himself but ask out of curiosity. You shrugged your shoulders, saying how you liked to observe from the sidelines than participate. Dean set his beer down on the wooden edge of the table and grabbed a stick for himself. “The game’s not that hard. My dad taught me how to play. But how I really got good at the game was the help from a wise and old mentor. We took our gig around town and made a few bucks.”

"I feel like you're lying and got the idea out of that Tom Cruise movie,” You approached the table as you placed down your drink next to his and rested your hands down on the wooden trimming, your fingertips almost grazing the green fabric. “Or there’s a really good story behind this you’ve never told me.”

"I wouldn't say that it's an exciting story." Dean said, shrugging his shoulders. “Bobby and I used to go to the bar when you and Sammy were still in school. We would knock back a few beers after he helped me figure out how to get my P.I. license and stuff. Let me say, your dad is a pool shark."

"Wait," You felt your face break out into a smile that seemed to light up your entire face when the story turned into a direction that you weren't expecting. While Dean was rubbing chalk at the end of the pool stick, he couldn't help himself but think about how pretty you looked underneath the bar florescent light. "You're telling me my dad taught you how to hustle?"

"Well, he wouldn't use those kinds of words. But, yeah. He did. My dad was a good private eye, but it didn’t always make bank when we needed it. And that’s how I helped pay for Sammy’s textbooks when he went to college." Dean said. You honestly thought you couldn’t think that he couldn’t have been a better big brother, and there he went. Dean set everything up for a game, and since he knew you saw enough of these to know the general rules, he handed over the stick to you. For some reason you stared at him, not sure what he wanted you to do. "Come on. It's not gonna bite you. I just want to see what you know and then we can improve on that."

You grabbed the pool stick from him and walked over to the side of the table where Dean had set everything up, saying a little prayer in your head so you wouldn't look like a complete idiot. As you inhaled a deep breath and began to remember the position that you saw him and Sam get into to hit the ball, your eyes wandered away from the white one when you saw Dean moving around in the corner of your eye. You turned your head to see that Dean was shrugging off his jacket, revealing the red button up shirt you had gotten him for his birthday a few years back, paired with a black t-shirt you swore he owned at least a dozen of from how many times you wore them.

Maybe it was because of the bar lighting, the few sips of the cocktail you had, or the nerves wracking inside your body that was making you think of how good he looked tonight. There was no denying the Winchesters had good genes. Sam might be tall and large compared to most people, but he carried a soft charm and a dimpled smile that wooed over so many women. And Dean...well, you could go on forever about him.

It was his green eyes that you got lost in while it was just the both of you talking at his place and at dinner, his hair that always remained short and yet made you long to run your fingers through the sandy locks. The muscles you saw outlined in his clothes when he moved. There was so many things you could list about him that you loved about him. And you swore if Charlie was looking your way she would be grinning like an idiot from what was about to happen next.

You slightly leaned over the edge of the pool table with the stick at a perfect ninety degree angle like you were supposed to, As you got ready to hit the white ball, Dean momentarily distracted you when he remarked about how good you look. All though you knew it was about your posture, your mind went in a completely different direction, making the stick fly off the table. You let out a sigh from what you just did, knowing how much you were making yourself look like an idiot when you heard Dean let out a chuckle. It might have been out of amusement, but he wasn't ready to throw in the towel just yet.

“Not bad. But the problem is in your fingers. Here, let me show you.” Dean walked over so he was standing behind you and in attempting to fix your posture. He reached out his hand and grabbed your wrist that was resting the stick on. He dragged it backwards so your fingers were now just resting on the edge of the table and laid out almost flat. "It's all about how you position the index finger and the thumb. You see," Dean talked you through the steps, making you realize he was closer than you thought. You swallowed slightly as you felt him move the fingers so they were holding the tip of the stick at a better angle. "That should help guide it a bit better."

You listened to what he told you, and trying again, you hit the cue ball perfectly, sending all fifteen pool balls to scatter across the table. You broke out into a smile as you turned your head to the side Dean was leaning over, getting ready to thank him for how easy he made it out to be. But in doing so, you realized how close he was to you, and how his fingers were still on yours, making your smile begin to fade slightly as you felt your heart start to beat faster. The both of you found yourselves staying in that position for a few seconds, unsure of what to do next.

"You know if your pool skills were half as good as your writing, maybe you wouldn't suck so much." You flinched at the sound of Cas' voice, making you realize what you were doing. Dean cleared his throat as he quickly stood back up, you did so a few seconds later. You gave the man a sarcastic smile, resisting the urge to smack him with the stick you were leaning on. "Did you tell everybody yet of your big story you're gonna do?"

Sam headed back over to the pool table, seeming to have leaned enough words to break the lesson you were having with Dean, and curios to find out what you were working on. “Really? What’s it about?” You fell silent for a moment as you contemplated of even telling them, knowing how all of them were going to take it in a different way. “It’s about...someone.” “Very specific. I think I heard of this ‘someone.’” Dean teased you, wondering what was making you suddenly grow so bashful. You looked away from him when he kept pushing for an answer. “Come on, Y/N. Tell us.” “No. It’s not that big of a deal.” You said, shrugging your shoulders. “It’ll probably go nowhere.” “Fine. I’ll tell them. Our dear Y/N has officially lost her mind. She wants to write about the Red Hood.” Cas announced to your group of friends, making you dread how they were all going to take it. You stared at the ground for a moment as he kept on going what you had asked for your boss to do. “More specifically, she wants to interview him.” “Huh. Did you hear that, Dean?” Charlie asked her best friend when she heard something that seemed to contradict what you had said yesterday morning. The older Winchester suddenly felt four pairs of eyes on him, making him panic about this. It was like a nightmare come true. “Y/N wants to interview the Red Hood.” “Yeah, Charlie,” Dean mumbled as he let out a quiet chuckle, hoping nobody would see how nervous he was becoming for all the wrong reasons. “I heard her.” “Not exactly.” You said, correcting the redhead. Dean felt his heart suddenly starting to beat a million times a minute from what was going on. It was like a nightmare come true. "I want to find out who this person is and put a stop to the crap that they've be causing for the past couple of years."

“‘Crap’?” Charlie repeated after you. She seemed a little offended at the wording you used to describe someone who made this place a little safer. But you didn’t see it that way. “Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

"Please. You can't tell me you're okay with some psycho running around this city and taking jobs away from the police—whose job is to protect us." You said, giving your personal feelings on how you felt about the vigilante to your close friends. "It's a matter of time before someone gets hurt, or worse, dead."

"While I agree that taking the law into your own hands is never a good idea," Sam said. “some people think of this person as a hero.”

“We’re not living in a comic book. There's no evil villain that's harassing the city that the police can't arrest. And heros don’t wear masks. It’s people like...Dean,” You looked over at your best friend that you thought was the perfect example you could make from what you were about to say next. “He stepped up and saved Charlie’s life. He’s a hero. Not this Red Hood creep.”

"Thank you. But it was nothing." Dean said. The mention of the night he got stabbed made his shoulder start to ache. He cleared his throat as he kept his composure, casually asking you a question he really didn't want the answer to. "So...What are you gonna do about this Red Hood?”

“I’m gonna expose them and put a stop to it.” You said in a matter-of-fact voice.

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