#thanks for the 5 seconds of entertainment tonight ily | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

arcadeguk · 5 years

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elegance and ramen

prompt: “what can I say, I was trained by the best” + “funny, I don’t remember training you”

genre: fluff. oh yeah, luna’s back folks.

pairing: idol!hoseok x you x the dance studio x teeny jimin

a/n: this is my first scenario in literally a year pls be kind n remember me

masterlist

if hoseok had to sum up his day into a single phrase, it would be what the youth call “an assbreaker”. he was damn near certain that his poor, sweet ass was in fact, broken. he had no hope of sitting comfortably for the next week, at least. after 7 hours of trying to perfect jimin's fluffy, contemporary “no-hoseok-convey-your-feelings-with-your-BODY” routine, hoseok was wholly and entirely done for the day. jimin was trying to work new choreography into their latest single - a routine that would emphasize the tenderness and gentility of fresh, young love. watching jimin perform the routine this morning was mesmerizing and hoseok felt enchanted by jimin's every step. but after stumbling around the studio all day - toppling into the mirrors and losing his “elegant” footing more than once - hoseok was hot, sweaty, and beyond irritated.

with jimin’s insistent mantra of “delicately, hobi”, throbbing in his head, he finds his way over to the tiny black couch that’s tucked away in the corner of the studio. his belongings were flung all over – a sweatshirt here, a backpack there, and he was 24% sure his keys were buried somewhere among this mess. he frowns as he remembers this morning – or rather remembers the blurry disaster that was dashing out of the house with barely a kiss from you.

he lets the track continue to play in the background as he hums along to the melodies, hoping that the extra time spent listening to it will somehow send the message to his feet and solidify the movements. he bends over with an audible groan, one hand reaching back to grip his strained lower back muscles while the other swipes for his phone. he plops down on the couch, most definitely crushing the muffin he forgot to eat this morning and the sandwich he’d neglected at lunch. hoseok unlocks the phone and with a few quick taps, he opens up your message thread.

he can’t help the fond smile that spreads across his face as reads through your messages from the day. his heart beats just a tiny bit faster as he reads each text - all sent at various times, all filled with hearts and smiley’s and “xo” ‘s. you’re more than understanding of the expectations placed upon hoseok, and know that sometimes long days in the studio with hardly any communication with the outside world is demanded of him. when these days roll around, you never fail to text hoseok with hourly updates about your day. you share how the bus was 5 minutes late and you had to jog to your office, how the latte you’d had at lunch was arguably better than the ones you two had gotten in greece last summer, and how much you missed him and hoped he was taking care of himself. every text included that last sentiment in one form or another - he knew you were busy that day if they included just “ily :)”. but he also knew you’d snuck an extra 5 minutes at lunch when you included a thinly veiled threat about changing the netflix password if he hadn't had a break yet. he can’t help but be a little disappointed when there’s no mention of you snapping his kneecaps as reparations for not resting, but he figures that you’d get around to dismemberment at some point tonight.

as the last notes of the track die in the background, hoseok mutters a quiet “fuck it”, and quickly decides that he’s earned a break. he allows screaming muscles and stiff joints to relax back into sticky leather and clumpy sweatshirts. his head flops backward, the back of his neck catching on the top of the couch, landing with a definitive thud. he runs a hand through his fringe, mussing up the bits that stick to his sweaty forehead and brushing them backwards. his eyes droop to a close and he swallows hard, trying to relax the stress and tension in his neck. his phone vibrates in his lap and he tosses it with a whine. your last text had come in more than an hour ago - reporting that you’d gotten home safe and couldn’t wait to see him. he had a sneaking suspicion that the most recent text was from jimin, and if he had to put into words how fucking awful the routine was looking, he was sure he’d decompose on the spot. to save himself and his last functioning brain cell, the phone has been listlessly thrown and left to buzz incessantly on the soft wooden floor, just out of reach of hoseok’s hearing. another track begins to play on the studio speakers - and it’s one of hoseok’s new favorites. loud, full of thumping bass and tinny additives. the beat settles nice in the top of hoseok’s head and eases him into sleep.

it’s not the speakers that continue to blare that wake hoseok up, nor is it the heavy studio door opening with a creak. it’s not even the crinkle of take-out bags or the strong scent of spices that stir him. instead, it’s your whispered “baaabyyy” that drags him out of his slumber.

bleary eyes crack open and hoseok’s barely granted an inch of sight before your lips are pressed firmly to his. you giggle into his mouth and a small smile crosses his face. He nearly starts to glow as his exhausted mind begins to put the puzzle together.

you, dancing, music, food, sleep…

he blinks once, twice, and then a third time for good measure before your face really comes into view. there you are, sat on his lap with a leg on either side of his hips, hands pressed to his chest and nose smushed so endearingly close to his. you can feel the warmth radiating off of hoseok’s body – and it makes you remember how much you missed the sunshine today.

“hi”, you whisper softly.

“hi”, he coos back.

“aren’t you surprised to see me?” “to be entirely honest, I’m not too sure I’m completely awake right now.”

hoseok is dead serious as his lips morph into a full blown pout, eyes somehow twisting downwards to create the perfect mixture of confusion and sleepiness.

“oh trust me, it’s really me and I really am here. and I really did bring a ton of that god-awful spicy ramen from the restaurant down the street. I don’t understand how you can eat that stuff and not have your intestines fall out of your ass afterwards.”

hoseok lets out a deep and throaty laugh, one that starts out as a nasally snort but soon turns into a guffaw that he has little hope of controlling. you beam down at him as he lets out the rest of his giggles, cupping his face in your palms. he lets his neck roll to the side, using the couch and your hands as a safety net to catch his head. hoseok smiles softly and nestles further into the softness of your palm, seeking nothing more than comfort and warmth. you lean down, landing a kiss square on his lips. your kisses travel upwards – if they can even be considered kisses. they’re feather light, simple soft presses of your lips to tired skin. cupid’s bow, nose, cheekbones, eyelids, temples, eyelashes – they all fall victim to the delicate onslaught of your gentle love. you come to leave a final, firm kiss on his forehead – followed with a unyielding “eat. food. now… please.” hoseok hums, snaking his hands between both your bodies, palms finding the supple round of your hips and massaging soft circles into the skin.

“hoseok, c’mon,” you say with a gentle flick of your fingers to his tummy, “you’ve got to be hungry.” hoseok doesn’t grace you with a response, instead he just whines again and raises his hands up higher, hitching underneath the hem of your t-shirt and scratching blunt nails along the expanse of your lower back.

“it’s getting cooooold…” you continue to tease, only to be met with a grunt and a flick from hoseok himself.

you take a moment, letting hoseok’s wandering hands find all the soft dips of your back before you lean in with a rather menacing statement of: “eat the food right now or the hulu password gets changed. You’ll never watch the end of game of thrones, you insipid toddler.”

hoseok smiles. there it was.

one minute, you’re nestled comfortably in hoseok’s lap, his hands languidly feeling you up while he simultaneously falls asleep. the very next minute, you’re being hoisted into the air and your pelvis is forcefully sat upon slender hips. two firm forearms come to settle underneath your ass and your torso jolts forward from the volition. your chin rattles on a firm shoulder and your nose bumps into hoseok’s soft and sinewy neck. you offer your thanks for the rather unwelcome ride with a quick nip to the corner of hoseok’s jaw, an injury that you quickly smooth over with a brush of your lips and a lick of your tongue. he sighs at your ministrations, doing his best to ignore your kitten licks as he carts you over to the table that holds the glorious (and ridiculously cheap) feast. before he plops you down, hoseok turns his head to nip at your earlobe and nuzzle the ticklish spot right behind your ear. “bitch” he hisses, with every ounce of love and sarcasm in the world. “your bitch,” you purr, and he just rolls his eyes with a muttered “fuck”.

hoseok can’t move. there’s no possible way. containers among containers were scattered around the studio, discarded napkins were hiding under the table, and there were at least 6 grease stains on the floor that he was gonna have to hear about tomorrow. but for right now, hoseok’s happily struggling through his 5th container of ramen and watching his favorite form of entertainment: you.

“so you never told me about your day”, you say, walking back to hoseok. you’d begun collecting the trash and trying to shoot 3 pointers from the mid-studio line. you were such a horrible shot that hoseok had to ask you to stop after he snorted ramen into his nose for the second time.

“it’s been this,” he says, gesturing with a greasy chopstick to the expansive studio. “these same 4 walls. I don’t even know what the weather was like today. the fucking sun could have not even risen and I wouldn’t have known,” he grumbles, his speech garbled from a mouth halfway full of food.

“that’s unlike you,” you say softly, plunking down in front of him, legs crossed while your hands cradle your cocked head. “what’s wrong?”

“jimin, this stupid routine that I can’t get down, my shattered ass, the bruises I’m gonna have for weeks, and don’t even get me started on my ruined pride… ‘delicately, hobi’” he says with a snarl, rolling his eyes and poking at the leftover noodles.

the room falls into a comfortable silence and hoseok is quietly grateful you don’t say anything right away. he doesn’t need every problem to be fixed all the time, just listened to. a beat passes, then another, then a third before you pipe up with a confident “show me”.

“show you what?”

“the routine. show me what jimin did. I’ll perform it for you and then you can tell me what I did wrong.”

hoseok squints at you and you can tell the idea went straight over his head.

“wait, just hear me out. you know how you are hoseok. mistakes are so much easier to spot when other people make them. you can watch me from every angle and doing each individual step, instead of just catching a glance of yourself in the mirror. you’ll be able to tell me what doesn’t look right and then fix it when you go to try it.”

hoseok pouts, but you can hear the gears turning in his head.

“you know what they say. those who can’t do, teach.”

hoseok’s container hits the floor.

the sky is beginning to lighten by the time the both of you call it quits. you’ve ran through the routine a countless number of times and your knees and ankles are burning from the effort. but you can tell by hoseok’s confident smile that it was all worth it. he understands the steps in an entirely new way after watching you stumble through them for the past 3 hours. now, you’re no dancer (not unless you count the tap class that you quit when you were 5), but your tiny contribution has made all the world to hoseok. the transitions, the steps, the whole body elements – they all come together in his mind, blending into one seamless piece of art.

your feet clomp down on the last step of the routine, the music dying out behind you. you expect to hear “that was great, but this time, y/n, I wanna see if you can,” coming from behind you as the track starts again, but this time you’re met with silence. you turn around and see hoseok silencing the speakers and sauntering up to you with a satisfied smile.

“good?” you ask.

“great, baby” hoseok beams. he takes in your flushed cheeks, the sheen of sweat covering your skin, and the accelerated rise and fall of your chest.

you return his grin and shrug, “what can I say, I was trained by the best”.

“funny, I don't remember training you. In fact, if I remember correctly, we’ve been watching jimin this entire time…”

this rebuttal earns him a half-hearted slap on the chest. you drift forward, resting your head on his shoulder and peering up at him with tired, but happy, eyes.

“you’re sure it’s good enough?” you check.

“trust me babygirl, I’ve got it down now.”

“good.” you hum tiredly, leaning up to rub your nose against the column of his neck.

“thank you. for everything. you could never know how much I appreciate it. the food. your time. you’re…. incredible. you’re just fucking incredible.” he coos quietly. he wraps his arms around your waist, hugging your sweaty body to his. his heart pounds against your chest and sure, he’s trying to show you how grateful he is through physical affection – but mostly he’s just trying to figure out if you really are real, and not some figment his hopeful imagination dreamed up.

“I know, I’m like, pretty fucking awesome, huh?” you quip, and you’re quickly rewarded with a giggle and a kiss.

“by the way,” you drawl against hoseok’s cheek as you smother him in kisses, “did you ever take any breaks today?”

hoseok grins as he reports, “I did actually. I took a nap right before you came.”

“good,” you yawn, “someone gets to watch game of thrones.”

hi that’s all! thank you! :)

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