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shotaluvr5000 · 10 days

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Dancing Around Love

Genre: college au, slow burn, enemies to lovers, eventual smut

Pairing: dance major Haku Shota! x literature major reader

Warnings: 🔞 mdni, smut/18+, oral sex!m receiving, vaginal sex, protected sex, nipple play, hand jobs, couch sex, drunk sex, gn afab!reader

Word count: 14.1k

Summary: In the intense environment of a college dance program, you, a literature major, and Haku Shota, a talented but arrogant dance major, are forced to partner up for a final project. Knowing next to nothing about dance, you find it next to impossible to work with the dancer. What begins as a clash of egos soon evolves into late-night practice sessions that stretch into deep conversations and unexpected connections. In a slow-burn enemies-to-lovers story, where the line between rivalry and romance blurs, every step on the dance floor mirrors the intricate dance of falling in love.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56656711

The shrieks of sneakers against polished wood floors echoed throughout the classroom and into the hallway just outside. You could hear your heart in your ears from ascending the three floors to the dance department alongside the shrill squeaks and heavy breathing exiting the room. Peering through the glass into the classroom, you could see a tall figure dancing with control like you had never seen before. He danced in such a way that commanded the attention of every person around him, somehow moving precisely and fluidly at the same time. As he moved around the room, you couldn't help but notice the way his shoulder-length blond hair moved with him, catching the light coming in through the window and framing his sharp jawline. His face had a focused expression on it, as if he was so focused on his movements that expression was an afterthought. His eyes, though, were dark and framed by long black lashes. It was almost as if his eyes were so intense that he could see right through you. Though his plain white t-shirt was loose, the light shining through revealed his notably slim and well-defined torso.

Taking your eyes off the dancer, you moved toward the doorway taking in the scene of the classroom. The classroom was a big bright room with shiny wood floors. It had one wall full of mirrors and one full of windows. Sneaking into the classroom, you worried about what you had gotten yourself into. Based on what you had just seen, you feared the class might have been a higher level than you had previously thought. Being a literature major, you were incredibly out of your element in the world of dance. Hoping to get a break from the constant heavy writing involved in your major, you elected to take a dance class for the semester. Rather than being a needed break from routine, it seemed the class might be filled with more competition and comparison.

The tall figure came to an exciting finish, holding his pose, chest rising and falling rapidly. Collapsing to the ground, his attention turned to you as you stood in the back of the class. He raised an eyebrow in your direction and shot you a look that blazed right through you.

“You’re new here, huh?” He said, seemingly annoyed. “Try not to hold the class back.”

Heat rising to your cheeks, you scoffed. “I'm here to have fun and learn, not to participate in some petty competition.”

Smirking, he laughed. “Whatever. This class isn’t as easy as you might think. If you struggle, maybe try another class so you don’t hold us back.”

“And just who are you to say what I should or shouldn’t do?” You sneered

“Shota, Haku Shota” He said deadpan, standing up and extending a hand. “I’m a dance major here. You are?”

Hesitating for a moment, you introduced yourself and shook his hand, “I’m a literature major.”

“Well, let’s see if the little bookworm can keep up with the class.”

The first few weeks of the dance class seemed like the fastest and slowest weeks of your entire life. Each new dance class was like an internal battle. Shota mastered everything on his first try, effortlessly and flawlessly learning any and all new concepts the professor presented to the class. For every perfect step Shota took, it seemed like you made 2 mistakes. With each misstep you took, Shota commented on a number of ways you could change your dancing. He seemed to take pleasure in talking down to you each class.

“You seem too stiff. You almost look like a robot,” he remarked bluntly, his voice thick with condescension. “You need to feel the beat to improve. Right now, you’re just doing the motions mechanically.”

You glared at Shota. “Maybe if you actually tried to help me learn instead of talking down to me every single class, I would actually improve,” you mimicked his tone. “Why should I be your personal punching bag just because you’re a dance major?”

Shota cocked his eyebrow in your direction. “Fair. If you really want to do well then, maybe you should practice some more. Loosen up, being tense will only hinder you.”

You laughed, “Maybe you should stay to help me then if you’re such a good dancer.”

“Maybe I will.”

You stood there for a moment completely flabbergasted. Had the resident jerk seriously just offered to help you with your technique? Your brain struggled to understand what had just happened. Did Shota, who had been nothing but condescending towards you, offer his help to you? Was it some sort of prank? Would you stay after class and someone would jump out yelling about how you were a fool? You couldn’t help but think, “this has to be a joke, right? Maybe he’s just messing with me again.” For a moment, you thought you saw the corner of his mouth twitch, almost a smile.

“Okay,” you heard yourself say cautiously, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t some elaborate prank.

“Alright, I’ll meet you after class.”

After class, you stayed back waiting for Shota to help you. You sat along the edge of the room waiting for him to be ready. As he came back into the classroom, his eyes glinted with something new, something besides arrogance. You stood up to meet him in the middle of the room.

“Alright, let’s see if you’re as good of a teacher as you think you are,” you laughed, straightening your posture.

Stepping forward he stated, “Let’s start from the top and I can try my best to guide you.”

Demonstrating the first few moves, he moved fluidly and with precision. Trying to mimic his every move, you felt a stiffness and awkwardness in your moves. He played the first bit of the music, observing you as you danced. It was almost uncomfortable to have someone watch you so intently.

“Relax your shoulders, you’re too stiff,” Shota instructed firmly, demonstrating just how to carry yourself through the song. “And remember to breathe.”

You tried your best to follow his advice, trying to loosen up and feel the rhythm of the music. For as obnoxious as he was in class, his pointers were precise and his adjustments helpful. With every passing minute you both practiced together, you began to feel more and more confident. You were finally starting to feel in sync with the music.

Shota stepped back, watching you as you performed to the music. “Alright,” he said seriously. “You’re starting to get it.”

You smiled slightly at him, “Thanks,” you said, trying to catch your breath. “Maybe you’re not a half bad teacher.”

Shota tried to stifle a laugh, “And maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought.”

Though you and Shota had a moment of resolve when he had offered to coach you through one of the first dance assignments of the class, it quickly returned to condescension and competition. Every single class you attended with Shota consisted of a couple things: 1. You struggling to keep up with class 2. Shota doing amazingly and the teacher praising him 3. Shota talking down to you about holding the class back.

“You dance like you have two left feet,” Shota would remark. “Are you seriously sure you’re in the right place?” This was commonplace. As time went on, even other classmates and friends began to notice the rivalry and tension.

After class one day, one of your classmates, Intak, pulled you aside with a concerned look painted across his face. “What’s up with you and Shota? Everyone is starting to notice the tension between you guys.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “It’s annoying right! He’s always trying to beat me down. He’s so condescending. It’s honestly exhausting.”

Intak shifted his weight crossing his arms in front of himself. “Why do you think he’s being like this? He doesn’t seem to treat anyone else like this,” Intak queried.

“I don’t know, maybe he just likes being a pain in my ass?”

Your friend Laughed, “Well, you’re doing great. Don’t let him get to you.” He smiled, patting your back.

“Thanks, I appreciate you always being here.”

Back in class as midterms rolled around, Professor Kim announced that the whole class would be working on a large project as a big part of their grade.

“This project will account for about 50% of your final grade,” Professor Kim started. “You will work in pairs to create your own choreography which you will perform at the showcase at the end of the semester. This is an opportunity to showcase your creativity, teamwork, and technical skills.”

As whispers and murmurs started around the classroom, Professor Kim picked up a piece of paper and pinned it next to the doorway. You felt optimistic yet nervous at the same time. You didn’t really know anyone in the class, only your friend Theo. Well, you knew Shota, but it wasn’t the partner you were hoping for.

“Alright, come find your partners so you guys can start talking about your project,” Said Professor Kim.

You nervously glanced around the room and made your way to the posted paper. You felt your stomach twist as you began to search the paper for your name. Looking up and down the columns of names you finally found yours at the bottom… partnered with Shota. You sighed and shook your head. Out of anyone in the class, Shota?

Turning around, you saw Shota already staring at you with a blank look on his face, a twinkle of annoyance evident in his eyes. Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to where Shota was standing.

“Looks like we’re partners,” You started, trying your best to keep your voice steady. “Let’s just try to get through this.”

Shota crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just get it over with.”

You nodded, feeling heat rise in your ears. You knew this project was going to be a nightmare, but maybe you could learn something at least. You hoped, anyways.

You and Shota had agreed to practice that Friday night. Making your way up the stairs to the dance department, you could feel the familiar pit in the bottom of your stomach. You were nervous about how your first practice session for the project would go as the tension still lingered in the air. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You opened the door and stepped into the studio. Shota was already there, waiting for you. Sitting in the far corner of the room, the dancer was stretching in a black t-shirt and zip up jacket with black Adidas joggers. Even though he was sitting in the corner of the room, his confidence exuded and made the large open room feel almost claustrophobic. Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to where Shota was sitting. Setting your stuff down along the wall, you sat down next to him. Taking off his headphones, he turned his attention towards you with an unreadable expression.

“Are you ready to get started?” He asked, no tone present in his voice. You nodded as you grabbed your backpack from against the wall and pulled out your notebook.

“I’ve been taking some notes on some styles I liked. I have some different inspirations for our project in here,” You stated, flipping through the pages of your notebook. Stopping on the page with all of your notes, you shoved your notebook Shota’s direction.

Tucking his shoulder length blond hair behind his ears, Shota picked up your notebook and started looking over your notes. Furrowing his eyebrows, a look of amusement came over his face.

“Really?” Shota Retorted. “These concepts are too basic. Everyone will do something super contemporary.” He shut your notebook and slid it back across the floor to you. You picked up your notebook scoffing.

“What would you suggest then twinkle toes?” You snapped back, rolling your eyes. You tried to keep yourself composed as you felt your ears start to turn red.

“Well,” He started, rolling his eyes. “That was rude first of all. Second of all, we could always incorporate ballet? I’m sure no one else will do that. Plus, it is pretty technical so it could get us extra points.”

You raised your eyebrows at him. You knew that ballet was not your forte, but you were not about to let Shota know that. You thought about it for a moment. If it meant Shota would be quiet about styles and you might possibly get a good grade, it could be worth a shot.

“Fine, let’s give it a shot,” You stated calmly, trying not to snap.

“Perfect, assuming you can keep up.”

Standing up, you both moved to the center of the room. Shota tied his hair up then tossed his jacket off to the side of the room. You stood awkwardly next to Shota, not exactly sure what to do.

“How should we choreograph it?” You asked, breaking the thick tension in the air.

Shota rested his hands on his hips, “Well, I can try showing you some moves? Maybe I can just come up with something for us both and teach you? It’ll save us the frustration.” Shota looked at you with raised eyebrows. You weren’t quite sure what to think.

“Would that even be fair?” You questioned. “I mean, you would basically be doing all the work.”

Shota looked at you shrugging. “It might save our grade,” He started. “Plus our sanity,” He almost whispered the last part as if he didn’t want you to hear.

“Fine, whatever. Let’s do it that way. I guess go ahead and show me what you’re thinking.”

Moving to the back of the room, you looked at Shota’s reflection in the mirror. He stepped off, dancing to no music but somehow keeping perfect rhythm. His intricate movements came naturally and fluidly. Despite freestyling different dance genres together, his talent was undeniable. It was captivating to watch him in his element. It was clear to see why Shota chose dance as his major. He commanded attention. It was almost frustrating how amazing he was at dancing. For as much as you held disdain for the way he treated you, you could not deny his ability… not that you would ever let him know that.

Finishing his dance, Shota stood there chest heaving up and down. “What do you think?” He asked.

“It looks cool I guess. How will I learn it though? Will it work as a duet?” You asked, shifting your weight and crossing your arms.

“I’ll have to teach you,” He said breathlessly, leaning his hands on his legs as he slumped over. Standing up, he moved off to the side leaving room for you to join him in the center of the room. Stepping forward, the familiar feeling crept back into your stomach.

“I’ll demonstrate and you can copy,” Shota stated. As he started going through the first few motions of the dance, you wondered how Shota could remember that after one time. Observing his movements, you mimicked them loosely, almost mapping them out, as he went along. He finished and stepped back, motioning for you to step forward and give it a go.

Stepping forward, you began to move nervously with a stiff manner. Your movements did not match Shota’s in swiftness or confidence. Trying to keep the rhythm Shota had set, you struggled to keep pace. Finishing the section he had just demonstrated for you, Shota looked at you with a critical eye.

“Again,” He demanded. You repeated. This happened several times. Eventually, you stood there breathless from the repetitions. Shota looked at you with a concentrated look on his face.

“I think I need to adjust your posture, help you understand how you are supposed to be moving,” He said walking towards you. “Start, and I will adjust you as you go.”

Taking your first steps cautiously, Shota observed you extra intently. As you moved through the steps of the routine, Shota adjusted your posture. His touch against your back felt like fire from how nervous you were. Finishing the routine, you peered back over at Shota.

“Relax,” He stated in a low firm voice. “You’re too tense. It’s holding you back.”

You took in his advice. As annoying as he could be, you trusted his dancing more than your own. Trying your best to do as he said, you went through the movements again feeling a little more confident with each move. Though his gaze still made you a bit uncomfortable, you tried to focus more on dancing.

As you moved, Shota continued to offer adjustments, his touch light but precise. "Extend your arms more. Feel the movement through your fingertips," He instructed, his hands briefly guiding yours.

As you finished the section you had been tirelessly working on, Shota offered you a compliment. “I think you’re starting to get it.”

The two of you moved this way throughout different segments of the choreography Shota had come up with just a bit earlier. As you went through the movements together, Shota even made small changes to his own dancing. The two of you fell into a rhythm of practicing and learning and critique.

At one point, you stumbled over a particularly tricky transition, nearly losing your balance. Shota's hand shot out, steadying you. "Careful," he said, his voice unexpectedly gentle. "You've got to keep your center of gravity stable." He quickly took his hand back, moving back to his position.

As the practice session came to a finish, you had finished learning the bones of the routine that you two would perform at the showcase. The movements were becoming more fluid, steps more in sync. Dripping with sweat, you walked over to your bag and grabbed a towel, Shota grabbing one from his own bag.

“You’re starting to catch on,” Shota said with a hard to read expression painted across his face, impatience still evident in his voice. “We’ll definitely need to practice more.”

You nodded in his direction, trying to maintain a straight look on your face. Dabbing the sweat off your forehead, you reached down to pick up your backpack.

“Should we meet back here at the same time on Monday?” He questioned, picking up his jacket off the floor and shrugging it on. Nodding in his direction, you swung your backpack over your shoulder.

Just before you left the studio, Shota turned to you one last time. "Good work today," he said, his tone grudgingly sincere but still maintaining a critical edge. "Don't slack off. See you tomorrow."

“See you tomorrow, twinkle toes.”

Though practice continued to be difficult for the two of you, continuing to butt heads as you went along, it was undeniable that the two of you were making progress. You saw the hours Soul put into perfecting each routine, the sweat and tears behind his seemingly effortless performances. There were moments when his guard slipped, revealing a vulnerability and passion that surprised you.

One evening, as you struggled with a particularly difficult move, Soul softened. “You’re improving,” he said quietly, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear. “But you need to trust yourself more.”

You looked up, caught off guard by the rare compliment. “Thanks,” you said, breathless. “I’m trying.”

As you guys continued to have evening practice sessions, the sessions seemingly lasted longer and longer. What were once practices that went until 8 PM, now seemed to last late into the night. It was during these practice sessions that the two of you would sit along the edge of the room talking about many different things, no longer just dancing. Though you had viewed him as a pain in the ass at the beginning, his harshness was starting to soften.

Despite your initial resistance, you couldn’t deny a growing warmth whenever you two practiced. His presence, once intimidating and suffocating, had become something you looked forward to. You caught yourself thinking frequently about these late-night talks, noticing the way his eyes lit up when he spoke passionately or the gentle way he shared difficult memories. Every detail of him was being etched into your brain.

On one particular night after an exceptionally long and hard practice, the two of you collapsed on the floor laying next to each other. Breathing rapidly and drenched in sweat, you each let out a laugh. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Shota sat up and leaned back on his hands.

“It wasn’t always like this for me, you know?” Shota started. You looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow at him.“My parents weren’t super happy with me choosing to pursue dancing,” He sighed, his voice showing a new type of openness he had never shown before. Laying back down with a sigh, he rested his arm atop of his forehead.

“They always wanted me to do something more stable… something like a government job.” He looked over at you observing the expression on your face, almost looking for reassurance. “It was my whole life… no is my whole life. I spent so much time practicing and trying to perfect every single move and technique. I didn’t go to dances, I didn’t have summer jobs. I didn’t really have friends either, honestly. Everyone just thought I was too quiet or weird.”

You weren’t quite sure how to respond to Shota. “Oh… wow. That must have been really tough for you.”

He let out a chuckle, “It was really hard for me to be honest. I gave up so many things including a normal teenage life. Ultimately, though, I knew it was what I wanted. Every class, every critique, every competition, it made me want to work harder. I didn’t have many friends so I felt like dance was a way I could express myself when words failed.” Looking back at the ceiling, you swore you could see a glint in the boy’s eyes. It must have been really tough for him.

“You know,” he started, “it taught me a lot about resilience.” The look in his eyes was one you had never seen before, almost as if walls he had put up were starting to come down.

“You seem so confident I thought you were just naturally this talented,” you expressed, examining his side profile. He looked over at you, letting out one little laugh. You quickly looked back up at the ceiling.

“Natural talent is maybe 1% of it. The other 99% is hard work,” he stated.

You nodded at the ceiling, taking in what the boy had to say. It seemed like the harsh exterior was something he had built up just to protect his sanity. He just wanted to succeed in what he loved the most, even if it meant putting up a wall to ensure he could get there.

The conversation continued that night, each of you sharing more about your lives and opening up about the struggles you had been facing in your own life and your own academic career. You told him about your own fears and insecurities, the moments when you doubted yourself, and the reasons why you had chosen to take up dance despite your lack of experience.

These late-night talks became a regular occurrence, a time for you both to unwind and connect beyond the confines of the dance studio. With each conversation, the tension between you eased, replaced by a growing comfort. In the process, you discovered that beneath Shota's stern exterior was someone who had faced immense challenges and had come out stronger for it. You came to appreciate Shota and everything he brought to the table.

Following the late night talks you two began to have after dance practice, you had swapped phone numbers and stopped avoiding him outside of class. Neither you nor Shota had realized that you actually had some mutual friends until you ran into each other one night.

You had received an invitation to a little get together at your friend Theo’s house. You weren’t typically one for parties, but Theo was a good friend of yours from your literature program. Flattening out your outfit and taking a deep breath as you approached the door, you knocked. The door swung open to reveal Theo standing there with a drink in his hand. His face lit up when he turned and saw you standing in the doorway.

“I’m so glad you could make it!” He shouted, pulling you into his apartment and shutting the door behind you. You were suddenly surprised when you looked over at the couches and saw Shota sitting there with several others. Theo was seemingly oblivious to your shock. “Do you want anything to drink?”

“Do you have Sprite?” You asked. Theo smiled and nodded, walking off to the kitchen.

Walking over to the couches, you sat opposite of Shota, offering a weak smile in his direction. He had a look of amusement on his face. You hadn't expected to see Shota at a casual get-together, and the prospect made you feel a bit anxious. You couldn't shake the worry about how things would go.

“Small world, huh?” He laughed, lifting his drink up to his lips.

You nodded slightly at the boy, “Yeah, seems so.”

As the night progressed, you found yourself relaxing in the company of mutual friends. Theo, always the life of the party, kept the atmosphere light with his jokes and stories. It was during one of these stories that Theo suddenly made the connection.

Looking between you and Shota he asked, “How do you guys know each other?”

You exchanged glances with Shota before looking back at Theo, “We’re actually in an elective together. We’re doing our final project together.” You chuckled, sipping on your Sprite that had grown increasingly flat as the night wore on.

“You know Shota actually tried to teach me some dancing once?” Theo let out a loud laugh after his statement. “I was horrible.”

Shota laughed alongside Theo, “He was a horrible student too.”

Theo laughed. “True, true. But hey, look at you now, Mr. Dance Major. And you,” he said, turning to you, “you're lucky to have him as a partner. He's tough, but he knows his stuff.”

You let out a little laugh. “I’ve noticed. I think we’re getting somewhere though,” You said, turning towards Shota who offered a weak smile in return.

The rest of the evening continued with more stories and laughter, the initial awkwardness between you and Shota slowly dissipating. It was strange, realizing that the person who had been your rival was also someone who shared your circle of friends. Seeing him outside of the dance studio was a new, but not unwelcome experience.

Towards the end of the night, Theo suggested that you could all play a game. You all eventually settled on playing charades. You were a bit apprehensive but eventually agreed when Shota shot you an encouraging look.

“Come on, it could be lots of fun!”

You were all divided into teams, with you and Shota ending up on the same team. The game turned out to be a hilarious experience. You and Shota did great together as a team despite the initial awkwardness of running into him at the party. Somehow, the two of you ended up winning first place in charades.

As the night came to an end and after a few drinks, Theo pulled you aside. “I'm glad you came tonight. It's cool to see you and Shota getting along. He's a good guy, once you get past the tough exterior.” You smiled at Theo, pulling him in for a hug.

“Yeah, I can see that now. Thanks for inviting me, Theo,” You said, pulling out of the hug and glancing over at Shota, who was engaged in a lighthearted conversation with another friend.

As you announced your departure and slipped out the door, you heard rapid footsteps behind you. You turned around to Shota trying to catch up to you.

"Hey, wait up," he called out, slightly out of breath.

You slowed your pace, allowing him to catch up. "Didn't expect you to follow me," you remarked, a hint of surprise in your voice.

Shota shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I figured we could walk back together. Safety in numbers, right?”

You chuckled and nodded, the two of you falling into a rhythmic pace. For the first couple of minutes, the two of you walked in silence save for the sounds of cicadas and passing cars. The glow from the street lights lit up the pavement as the two of you walked along, the glow of neon signs reflecting into windows on both sides of the street. There was a gentle breeze, blowing around fallen leaves along the pavement. Pulling your jacket closed, you tried to stay warm in the cold autumn air. Shota, noticing, took the hat off his head and placed it gently on yours without breaking stride.

“So,” Shota began, breaking the silence, “that was unexpected, running into you at Theo's place.”

You laughed softly. "Yeah, small world, huh? I had no idea you knew him."

Shota nodded. "Theo's a good guy. We met during freshman orientation. He's always been a bit of a goofball, but he's loyal."

"Sounds like him," you agreed. “We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember.”

The conversation flowed naturally, the tension from earlier practice sessions and the surprise of running into him that night fading with each step. You found yourself opening up, sharing stories about your own college experiences, your classes, and the challenges you faced. As you walked, Shota listened attentively, occasionally offering his own anecdotes. He talked about the pressure of being a dance major, the high expectations, and the constant need to prove himself.

You offered Shota words of encouragement, knowing how hard he had worked to get to this point. “You’re doing great, Shota. You will always have supporters.” Though he insisted that he must be weird for being so focused on dance, you viewed him as someone with an admirable work ethic.

He thanked you for the encouragement, offering some of his own. “You've been doing great, though. I know I'm hard on you, but it's because I see potential. You're pushing yourself, and that's what matters.”

Looking over at Shota beneath the street lights, you noticed a look you had never seen on his face before. Could it have been sincerity? You were taken aback and unsure how to react for a moment.

“Thanks, Shota. It means a lot coming from you.” You smiled at him gently. He offered a small genuine smile in return, any remaining tension seemingly melting away.

As you continued walking, the conversation shifted to lighter topics. You discovered you had more in common than you initially thought – favorite movies, music, even a shared love for late-night snacks.

As if on cue, your stomach growled loudly, making Shota chuckle. "Sounds like someone’s hungry."

You blushed, embarrassed. "Yeah, I didn't eat much at Theo's. Too busy talking, I guess."

Shota glanced around and then pointed down the street. "There's a 24-hour ramen place a couple of blocks from here. Want to grab something to eat?"

You were hesitant for a moment before turning to Shota, “Sure, why not?”

The ramen place was small with a convenience store like interior. It was a self-service ramen bar with only a few bar seats next to the entrance. Because of the time, it was only you and Shota inside the restaurant (if you could call it that).

You walked inside, the big wall of ramen overwhelming you. They had almost any type of ramen you could possibly dream of having. It seemed that both you AND Shota were overwhelmed by the sheer amount. After taking in all of your options, you eventually settled on one with Shota right behind you. After you had both assembled your ramen, you went to check out when Shota stopped you. Grabbing his wallet out of his pocket, he paid for both of you.

“Thanks so much, Shota,” You smiled gently at him, sitting down at one of the barstools.

“It’s no problem,” He said back, sitting down next to you. As you settled onto the barstools, the rich aroma of simmering broth and fresh noodles enveloped you both, creating a comforting ambiance in the ramen shop.

"So, what's your story?" Shota asked, breaking the silence as he took a sip of his soda. "What made you decide to take up dance?"

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "Honestly, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision. I needed an elective, and dance seemed interesting. I've always loved music and movement, so I figured, why not give it a try?"

Shota raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "And how's that working out for you?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Let's just say it's been a learning experience." Shota chuckled, a genuine sound that caught you off guard. He smiled, an expression that softened his usually stoic demeanor.

As you ate together looking out onto the cold city street inside the warmth of the ramen shop, you talked about anything and everything. You found yourself sharing stories about your childhood, your dreams for the future, and even the silly mishaps that had brought laughter into your life. Shota, usually reserved, opened up about his own upbringing, his early struggles with dance, and the moments of triumph that had shaped him into the person he was today.

The more you talked, the more you realized how similar the two of you truly were. Your conversations ranged from favorite childhood memories to philosophical musings about life's uncertainties and everything in between.

The ramen bowls were soon emptied, but the conversation continued, spilling out onto the city street as you traced your steps back towards campus together. The city lights cast a soft glow around you, lighting up Shota in the darkness. His soft smile, backlit by the lights, offered reassurance as you two walked in the dark.

As you reached the familiar steps of your apartment, you paused, reluctant to let the night end. "Thanks for tonight, Shota," you said sincerely, turning to face him.

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "No, thank you. It's been... refreshing."

You chuckled softly. "Who knew ramen could lead to such deep conversations?"

Shota laughed, a genuine sound that warmed your heart. "Yeah, who knew?"

You stood there for a moment, the city bustling around you, before Shota broke the silence. "Well, I guess I should let you get some rest. Practice tomorrow, right?"

You nodded, suddenly reluctant to part ways. Slipping his hat off and extending it out to him, you responded, "Yeah, practice. See you then?"

Shota nodded, his gaze softening, taking the hat from you gently. "Definitely."

The next evening, you had a class only a couple floors down from the dance department so you found yourself in the dance room extra early. Sitting along the side of the room, soft music echoing throughout the otherwise quiet room, you found yourself waiting for Shota to join you. Despite the quiet and calming atmosphere that you had come to associate with the dance rooms over the course of the semester, this particular night was different.

Earlier that day, you had received an email from a literature professor about the grade of your midterm exam. You had completely bombed the exam, one which made up a substantial portion of your grade. This wasn’t just any class either, it was a required class for your major. You couldn’t even begin to understand what had happened. You felt so many things: disappointment, first and foremost, at letting yourself down despite putting in hours of study and preparation. Anger followed closely behind, directed both at yourself for not performing better and at the unfairness of the situation. Worst of all was the sinking realization of what this meant for your academic standing. This setback could jeopardize your GPA, your future prospects, and your confidence in your abilities. Anxiety gnawed at your insides, fueling a relentless loop of self-doubt and worry about how to recover from such a blow. Understandably upset, you sat along the wall of the dance room crying into your hands.

As Shota entered the dimly lit space, he spotted you huddled against the wall, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Without a word, he crossed the room and sat beside you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions swirling around you. He didn't ask questions or demand explanations. Instead, he simply sat there, offering silent support as you grappled with the weight of your thoughts.

After several minutes, Shota placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, quietly asking, “what’s wrong? If you want to talk, we can.”

Looking up at him, you wiped your tears on the sleeves of your shirt. Trying to catch your breath, you tried to explain your situation to him calmly. Moving his hand from your shoulder down to your hand and offering a gentle squeeze, he sat patiently and listened to everything. His touch was gentle yet reassuring.

“I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here if you need me. Whatever you need." You looked at him gratefully, overwhelmed by his kindness and unwavering support.

“Thank you, Shota,” you whispered, feeling a small measure of comfort in his presence, especially as the soft music played in the background. He offered you a meek smile as he brought his hands back to his lap. Together, you sat in the quiet embrace of the dance studio as you gathered yourself.

“Hey,” Shota started, “we don’t have to practice tonight if you’re not feeling up to it.”

You looked over at him. You couldn’t believe that the twinkle toes was offering to skip a dance practice for you. You felt a warm feeling envelope your chest. You nodded, sighing. Instead of practicing, the two of you sat in the practice room listening to music for the evening, eventually ordering food for the two of you.

The food you ordered arrived, and you shared a quiet meal together, the simple act of eating bringing a semblance of normalcy to the turbulent day. The conversation drifted to lighter topics, with Shota sharing funny anecdotes and you recounting amusing stories from your classes.

After finishing your meal, you both leaned back against the wall, a comfortable silence settling between you. The music played softly in the background, and the dim lighting of the studio created a cozy atmosphere. Shota glanced over at you, his expression thoughtful.

"You know," he began, his voice soft, "sometimes it's okay to take a step back and just breathe. We all need that every now and then."

You nodded, appreciating his words. "Yeah, I guess I just get so caught up in everything that I forget to do that."

He smiled gently. "It's easy to forget. But you're not alone in this. If you ever need a break or someone to talk to, I'm here."

The sincerity in his voice touched you, and you felt a wave of gratitude wash over you. "Thank you, Shota. It means a lot to me."

He nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Any time."

As the evening drew to a close, you both began to gather your things, the warmth of the shared experience lingering in the air. Before you left, Shota turned to you, his expression earnest.

"Take care of yourself, okay? We'll tackle everything one step at a time. And we'll get through it."

You smiled, "I will. Thanks, Twinkle Toes."

Shota scoffed and shook his head at you, “I am not twinkle toes.”

With that, you both parted ways.

As you walked home that night, the cool breeze brushing against your skin, your thoughts were a whirlwind of emotions. The events of the evening played over and over in your mind, each moment with Shota etched vividly into your memory. You had always seen Shota as just another classmate, an annoyingly talented dancer who sometimes got under your skin. But tonight, you saw a different side of him. A side that cared, that listened, that understood without judgment. It was a side you found yourself drawn to in a way you hadn't anticipated.

You replayed the way his hand had felt when he gently squeezed yours, offering silent support. The warmth of his touch lingered, sending a small thrill through you even now. His smile, usually so reserved, had been a beacon of reassurance, making you feel seen and valued. You couldn't shake the image of Shota's earnest eyes, the way he'd looked at you with such sincerity. It made your heart flutter, a sensation you hadn't felt in a long time. It was confusing, thrilling, and a little terrifying all at once. But for that moment, as you walked home under the soft glow of the streetlights, you allowed yourself to savor the warmth of the evening's memories. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to fall for Shota. And the thought made your heart race.

The dance studio was filled with the rhythmic sounds of music and the soft thuds of feet hitting the floor. You and Shota moved through the routine, your movements synchronized yet laden with an underlying tension. The recent shift in your relationship from rivals to something more complex was anything but smooth.

As you practiced a particularly intricate section, Shota's hand found its place on the small of your back, guiding you through the movements. He pulled back quickly upon you noticing, his expression unreadable. You tried to shake off the distraction, focusing on the steps, but your mind kept drifting back to the unspoken emotions simmering between you.

During a short break, you noticed Shota talking to a girl from another class. She laughed at something he said, touching his arm lightly. A pang of jealousy shot through you, making it hard to concentrate. You turned away, pretending to adjust your shoes, but the image of them together was seared into your mind.

Theo walked over, his expressions curious. He raised an eyebrow, glancing between you and Shota. "Everything okay?" he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

"Yeah, fine," you replied quickly, not meeting his gaze.

Theo's gentle voice broke in. "You seem a bit distracted. Is something bothering you?"

You sighed, debating how much to reveal. "It's just... complicated."

Theo scoffed. "Complicated? That's an understatement. You and Shota have been dancing around each other for weeks. It's exhausting just watching you two." Theo placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Maybe it's time to figure out why it's so complicated. Sometimes, understanding our own feelings is the hardest part."

You looked at Theo, his words resonating with the turmoil inside you. "I don't even know where to start."

Theo nudged you gently. "Start by being honest with yourself. How do you really feel about Shota? And what are you afraid of?"

As you pondered his questions, Shota walked over, his expression guarded. "Ready to start again?" he asked, his tone neutral.

You nodded, trying to push your swirling thoughts aside. As you resumed practice, the tension only grew. Every touch, every glance, seemed to carry a weight you couldn't ignore.

Later that evening, you sat in your dorm room, replaying the day's events. Theo's advice echoed in your mind. What were you really feeling? And why was it so hard to admit, even to yourself?

Meanwhile, Shota was having a similar internal struggle. After practice, he found himself alone in the empty studio, staring at his reflection in the mirror. The image of you watching him with the other girl flashed through his mind. He hadn't meant to make you jealous, but the look on your face had been unmistakable.

Theo's words from earlier that day rang in his ears. "Sometimes, understanding our own feelings is the hardest part." Shota sighed, running a hand through his hair. He'd always been confident in his dancing, in his ability to push through challenges. But this was different. This was emotional, messy, and entirely new territory.

As he practiced a solo routine, trying to clear his mind, Theo’s voice interrupted his thoughts. "You know, avoiding it won't make it go away," Theo said, leaning against the doorframe.

Shota stopped, turning to face him. "What are you talking about?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "You two. It's obvious there's something there. And until you both figure it out, it's going to keep affecting your focus in class."

Shota frowned, wiping sweat from his forehead. "I don't even know where to start."

Theo shrugged. "Start by being honest with yourself. What do you really feel? And what are you afraid of?"

Shota's thoughts echoed your own. As he left the studio that night, he resolved to confront his feelings, no matter how confusing or scary they might be.

The night had finally arrived, the night of the final showcase for your dance class. The large auditorium was buzzing with life as people flowed steadily in and found their seats. As you sat backstage beside Shota, you could feel the nerves building within you. You had never been one to perform before so it was quite intimidating. Almost as if Shota sensed your nervousness, he offered a small pat on your knee.

“We’re gonna do great. I know it,” He said, flashing a genuine smile at you, his eyes shaping crescents. You smiled back at him. Little did he know that him smiling at you like that only made the butterflies you felt multiply.

As the host of the evening walked out on stage to introduce the program and the audience hushed, the excitement and nerves of all the performers was palpable. Everyone backstage hushed down to a whisper as they waited their turn to perform. The months of practicing and late night snacking sessions had all led up to this night. You and Shota waited for your name to be announced. As the performer before you finished, Shota turned to you.

“Are you ready?” Shota asked, his voice steady but his eyes showing a hint of nerves.

You nodded, trying to muster the same confidence. “As ready as I’ll ever be, twinkle toes.”

The two of you ran out onto the stage, assuming your starting positions. The lights dimmed, casting a spotlight on the two of you. The audience hushed in anticipation. As the music swelled, you launched into the choreography, each movement flowing seamlessly into the next.

The routine was intricate, a blend of strength and grace that highlighted your growing connection. Every lift, every spin, every touch felt charged with the emotions you’d both been grappling with. As you danced, you could feel the audience's energy, their eyes glued to your every move.

Midway through the performance, there was a particularly challenging lift. Shota’s hands gripped your waist as you soared into the air, the audience gasping in awe. For a split second, time seemed to stand still. Your eyes met his, and you saw a flicker of something deeper, something real.

The music crescendoed, and you moved into the final sequence. The choreography demanded complete trust, and for the first time, you felt it wholeheartedly. As the last note played, you both struck the final pose, breathless and triumphant. The audience erupted into applause, the sound washing over you like a wave.

You stood side by side, soaking in the cheers. Shota squeezed your hand briefly, a silent acknowledgment of what you’d just accomplished together. The culmination of months of hard work and emotional turbulence had paid off in a spectacular performance. As you both took your bows, your eyes met, and the world seemed to blur around you.

As soon as the curtain fell, you grabbed Shota’s hand, running into the wings of the auditorium. You kept running, looking for somewhere, anywhere, that was private enough. You managed to find an empty dressing room. Ushering Shota in, you shut the door behind the two of you, locking it as you did. The room was dimly lit, with only a table lamp lighting up the small space.

With your back to the wall, you stood facing each other, the sounds of the celebration outside muted by the closed door. Your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline from the performance still coursing through your veins.

“Shota,” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

Before you could say another word, Shota closed the distance between you in two quick strides. His hands cupped your face, and he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was both urgent and tender. The world outside ceased to exist as you melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck. The kiss was a release of all the pent-up emotions, the frustration, the longing, and the unspoken feelings that had built up over the past months. Shota’s hands moved to your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other for a moment. Shota’s eyes searched yours, his expression a mix of relief and adoration.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. He swallowed harshly.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Me too, but I was so scared.”

He pressed another kiss to your lips, softer this time, as if savoring the moment. “I’ve felt something for you since the first time we met, even when we were fighting… Especially when we were fighting.”

You laughed softly, the sound mingling with his. “I guess all that tension had to come from somewhere.”

Shota’s thumb brushed your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

You looked into his eyes, hoping that you weren’t just dreaming, “that’s all I want.”

Moving to cup your cheeks again, Shota pulled you in for another kiss, this one long and needy, as if this was all you had waited for the whole semester. Pulling back from the kiss, Shota smiled fondly at you before wrapping his arms around your shoulder and pulling you into a tender embrace. For a while, you stayed there, wrapped in each other’s arms, savoring the newfound closeness. The world outside the dressing room continued to celebrate, but inside, it was just the two of you.

Eventually, you pulled back, intertwining your hand with Shota’s. “We should probably get back out there. They’ll be looking for us.”

He nodded hesitantly, but his grip on your hand didn’t loosen. “Yeah, we should.”

You turned to unlock the heavy door. Cracking open the door, you peered around the corner to make sure no one saw the two of you come out together. You could feel your mind racing a million miles a minute as the two of you stepped out of the dressing room. Shota really just kissed you… Surely he dropped you on stage, you hit your head, and it was all a hallucination. The pain in your ass twinkle toes dance major and you just kissed. You could feel your mind reeling as Shota led the way back towards the others. As he spotted the others, he reluctantly dropped your hand.

“Hey! There you two are!” Shouted Theo, as he and Intak made their way towards you and Shota. The two stood waiting backstage for you both.

Intak smiled at you, “your performance was amazing!” Intak knew how much you had struggled to get along with Shota when the two of you first met. Knowing you well, it seemed he could tell that something had changed since that dance class started at the beginning of the semester.

“Yeah! It looked like you guys had serious chemistry on stage,” Theo added, cocking one eyebrow up at you and Shota slightly. Perhaps… more people had picked up on the shift between you and him than you thought. Glancing over at him, you noticed red creeping over his neck and ears at the comment. You could feel heat rush to your own cheeks, thanking whatever God there was that you were wearing stage makeup.

Clearing his throat, shota asked, “should we all go out to celebrate? We could get some dinner.” As you looked between Theo and Intak, they looked at each other and both nodded.

“There’s a great k-bbq restaurant just down the street! We could all walk down there,” Chimed in Intak.

“That sounds like a great idea! Let me get out of this makeup and change first though,” You laughed, the others joining in. As you smiled at the three boys, you turned around to walk towards the vanities. Looking down at your dance shoes as you walked, you wiped your hands on your torso. You could feel your stomach doing backflips. Would this change things? Could you really go from rivals to something more?

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing the mix of emotions swirling within you as you sat down at the mirror. Grabbing a makeup wipe, you began to remove the heavy stage makeup you had worn for the performance. Though, your mind was elsewhere. The softness of his lips, the way he held you gently but firmly, the smell of his cologne, the way his skin felt beneath yours. After the kiss, it felt as if the world had shifted on its axis.

Snapping back to reality, you finished removing the makeup. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you took in a deep breath, sighing as you let it out. Smoothing your hair, you stood up from the vanity. Grabbing your clothes, you ran to the bathroom and quickly changed.

Would Shota want to kiss you again if you weren’t so dressed up? You worried as you made your way back to the group of friends. As you approached them, you offered them a small smile. You couldn’t help but notice Shota eyeing you up and down, the familiar red creeping up to his ears again. You couldn’t help but notice that he had changed as well, sporting a white shirt beneath a flannel blue jacket and light wash jeans. His shoulders seemed so much more broad beneath the jacket than you had even remembered.

“Alright! Let’s head out,” Smiled Theo, leading the way for the four of you to exit the auditorium. As Theo and Intak walked ahead, you and Shota walked beside each other. Stepping out into the cold dark evening, you felt a shiver run down your spine. Noticing this, Shota shrugged off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders. You felt heat rush to your cheeks.

“But you’ll get cold,” you whispered over to the boy who was now only wearing a light long sleeved shirt in the cold winter air. Crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to keep warm, he simply smiled and shrugged. A flutter of warmth that had nothing to do with the jacket spread through you. “Thank you.”

Walking through the streets of campus as nothing but the streetlights softly lit the way in a golden tone, Shota looped his pinky with yours. The night air was crisp and biting, each breath forming delicate puffs of mist that lingered momentarily before dissolving into the darkness. Your footsteps echoed softly against the pavement accompanied by the quiet chit chat and laughs of Intak and Theo just a few feet ahead of you. It felt as if you were in a different world, one where time slowed down and the simple act of walking became a cherished moment.

As you approached the restaurant, the neon sign began to illuminate the sidewalk vibrant shades of blue and red promising relief from the cold wind. The smell of grilled meats wafting out of the restaurant, you couldn’t wait to have a meal with some of your favorite people in the world. Shota dropped your pinkie as Intak climbed the stairs and pulled the door open. Ushering you and the dancer in first, Theo looked at the two of you and then at Intak with an amused smile, chuckling and shaking his head.

Inside, the restaurant was bustling with activity, the sizzling sounds of meat on the grill mixing with the hum of conversations and laughter from other diners. A friendly hostess greeted the four of you, leading you towards a sleek black table in the back corner of the lively restaurant. Opting for the side of the table with the cushioned booth, you slid towards the inner corner of the table with Shota sitting down after you. Intak and Theo pulled out their chairs to sit across from the two of you

Eyes scanning the menu with anticipation, "this place smells amazing," Intak commented, glancing around appreciatively. "I think you guys have all earned this feast tonight."

Theo nodded excitedly, “We should go wild, just order a whole bunch of stuff!”

“I agree,” You chimed in. “We should get some soju and beers to celebrate!”

You all eyed the menu, excitedly discussing which dishes were a necessity for the table. A young waitress made her way to the table to take your order. Looking between the menu and everyone’s faces, Theo ordered for the table. The waitress had to chuckle at how much meat the four of you ordered. As the waitress walked away, the four of you shared jokes and stories together.

“You know,” Theo said leaning forward, looking at Shota, “I have some pretty embarrassing stories from school together.” He looked at you with a smirk and chuckled. You gave Theo a look that was worth more than 1,000 words, as if it was saying don’t you dare.

“Do share,” Said Shota.

“Back in elementary school, our friend here had the biggest crush on a kid in our class. They were so smitten that they decided to write him a love letter. Classic, right? But instead of just giving it to him, they put it in his backpack without him knowing.” You could feel your face begin to turn a bright red color, cursing yourself for taking off your stage makeup after the performance. You avoided eye contact with Shota, who was now looking even more intrigued.

“So, they wait all day, anxiously, for this kid to find the note. But instead of him finding it first, his mom does when she checks his backpack after school. The next day, he comes up to them and says, ‘My mom thinks you’re really sweet.’ I think they avoided him for the rest of that year.” Theo grinned widely, laughing uncontrollably. You felt the urge to sink into your seat, the embarrassment from that childhood memory flooding back. You stole a glance at Shota, who was chuckling softly. Shota looked at you, his eyes dancing with amusement.

"That sounds... unforgettable," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. You managed a sheepish smile, feeling a mix of embarrassment that the story was told at all and relief that it was over. Despite the teasing, there was a warmth in Shota's eyes that made you feel oddly reassured.

Soon enough, the table was filled with a variety of meats, side dishes, and a few bottles of soju and beer. As the grill heated up, you took turns placing the meat on the sizzling surface, the air filling with the delicious aroma. Theo raised his glass once the first round of soju was poured.

"To an unforgettable showcase and even better friends," he toasted.

"Cheers!" you all echoed, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip. The warmth of the soju spread through you, a perfect complement to the cozy atmosphere.

Intak took charge of the grill, expertly turning the meat and ensuring it cooked to perfection. "Make sure to try this with the garlic and sesame oil dip," he advised, setting an example by assembling a perfect bite with a lettuce wrap.

You followed his lead, the combination of flavors exploding in your mouth. Shota, sitting beside you, mirrored your actions, his eyes lighting up in appreciation. "This is amazing," he remarked, taking another sip of soju.

As the night went on, the soju flowed freely, and the group’s laughter grew louder. Stories from the past semester were shared, each one funnier than the last. You felt a warmth spreading through you—not just from the alcohol, but from the undeniable connection you felt with Shota.

The food gradually disappeared and the bottles of soju piled up. The conversation grew more relaxed, the atmosphere more intimate. Shota leaned closer to you, his shoulder brushing against yours, his smile easy and genuine. "I’m glad we ended up partners," he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. Whether from soju or the feeling of looking into his eyes so closely, your face felt warm.

“Me too, Shota,” You smiled at him shyly.

As the evening continued, the atmosphere in the restaurant remained lively. However, Theo checked his watch and sighed. "Guys, I hate to do this, but I've got an early meeting with my advisor tomorrow. I need to head out."

Intak, who was in the middle of pouring another round of soju, nodded in agreement. "Yeah, same here. I promised my roommate I'd help him with a project first thing in the morning. I should probably get going too."

You and Shota exchanged glances, a mix of surprise and curiosity.

Theo stood up, the rest of you joining, giving everyone a hug. "This was fun. We should definitely do this again soon."

Intak followed suit, clapping Shota on the back. "You two have fun. Don't get into too much trouble without us," he teased with a wink.

"Yeah, yeah," Shota replied, rolling his eyes but smiling. "We'll manage."

As Theo and Intak made their way out, you and Shota sat back down and were left across from each other. The restaurant, still bustling with patrons, suddenly felt more intimate with just the two of you. Though the two of you had shared such a special moment together just earlier that evening, the air suddenly felt much heavier without others there.

Shota looked at you, his expression softening. "Well, it's just us now. Do you want to head out?"

You felt a flutter of nerves in your stomach but smiled. "I'm ready to leave if you are."

Shota nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Sounds good. Let's get out of here."

After settling the bill, the two of you stepped out into the cool night air. Whether it was from the soju you had shared or the rush of having Shota right next to you, the air didn’t feel as cold as it had before. The streets were quieter now, the city having settled into a more peaceful rhythm. You walked side by side, Shota offering his hand to you which you gladly accepted.

Glancing at you, a nervous expression crossed his face. "You know," he began slowly, "my apartment isn't far from here. If you want, we could go there. It's quieter, and we wouldn't have to worry about the cold."

Your heart skipped a beat at his suggestion. The idea of spending more time together at his apartment was both thrilling and nerve-wracking. You nodded, giving him a small smile. "That sounds nice."

“Let’s go,” he smiled.

The walk to Shota's apartment was filled with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. He led the way, his soft hand still holding yours, as you navigated the quiet streets. Your grip on Shota's hand tightened slightly as you walked, seeking reassurance. He responded by squeezing back gently, a silent promise that everything would be alright. His touch was warm and steady, grounding you amidst the flurry of emotions.The city seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you.

Your heart racing as you walked, you felt a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through your veins. Your mind buzzed with thoughts. Will the conversation flow naturally? Will there be awkward pauses? What if things escalate? Are you ready for that? Are you both on the same page? Despite the nerves, there was an undeniable curiosity pulling you forward, urging you to see where the night would lead. Stealing glances at Shota, you wondered if he was feeling the same mix of excitement and uncertainty.

When you arrived at his apartment building, Shota unlocked the door and held it open for you. "After you."

Thanking him, you stepped inside the entrance of his little apartment. Immediately, you were welcomed with how cozy and clean the apartment was, even though he wasn’t expecting company. The apartment had a small entrance with the kitchen and living room directly ahead.

Slipping your shoes off, you made your way to the living room where the smell of freshly cleaned laundry filled your nose. The dark posters and artwork that littered the walls were a sharp contrast to the white paint and light brown wood flooring. Bookshelves holding figurines, collectibles, some awards, and a wide assortment of books were present through the living space. Though it might have seemed a bit cluttered to some people, there were little things that made the space seem even cozier. A string of fairy lights lit up the living room alongside a small mood lamp. There was a plush velvet blanket thrown over the back of the couch. A potted plant sat on a bookshelf, vines growing down the side, offering some life to the room.

"Make yourself at home," Shota said, closing the door, struggling to slip his shoes off. Joining you in the living room and rubbing the back of his neck, he asked, "can I get you something to drink? Tea, water?"

"Tea would be great," you replied, sitting down on the black couch.

Shota rejoined you a few minutes later, carrying two steaming mugs of tea, one a mug of Pikachu’s head and the other with a label from what you could only assume was a previous dance competition. He handed one to you gently, “here you go.”

"Thanks," you said, taking a sip and savoring the warmth. "Your place is really nice, Shota. It's... comfortable."

He smiled, sitting down next to you. "I'm glad you think so.” You sat your tea down on the small coffee table just in front of the couch. Sitting back on the couch, you pulled your legs up into a criss cross. Mirroring you, Shota set his drink down right next to yours and stretched his arms along the back of the couch.

“You know,” Shota began, a playful smirk forming on his lips, "I have to admit, I was a bit worried you might trip over your own feet during that performance.”

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, “Oh, I was not that bad.”

"Not that bad?" he replied, his tone teasing. "There was that one moment where I thought, 'Are they going to fall? Are they not?' It was like watching a thriller."

You nudged his side with your elbow, pouting. "You're such a jerk. I think I did pretty well, considering someone was constantly criticizing my every move." Shota laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"I was just trying to make you better. And hey, it worked, didn't it?"

You shot him an annoyed look, hitting his shoulder, “Seriously, I think you enjoyed torturing me a little too much.”

Shota’s eyes narrowed at you, a smirk creeping across his face, “And what if I did?”

You groaned, throwing a pillow at him. "You're impossible.” Shota caught the pillow, still laughing.

You weren’t sure whether you were mad at him for picking on you or if you should laugh at the situation at hand. As Shota's teasing remarks hit you, a surge of irritation mixed with a strange flutter in your core soared through you. Did he have to make everything a competition? Always pointing out every little mistake like he's the dance police or something. It was infuriating how he could switch from being so critical to acting like it's all a joke. You knew he was just trying to push your buttons, but why did it get to you so much?

Clearing his throat, Shota started, “You know, you’re really cute when you’re mad.”

Still unsure what to make of his jeering, you scrunched your eyebrows, shooting him a look of annoyance. You could feel the heat across your face grow more intense, a mix of irritation and something else entirely. Shifting closer to you, his hand brushed against yours, sending a shiver up your spine.

"You're insufferable, Shota."

"Maybe," he whispered, leaning in slightly, his breath warm against your skin, the sweet smell of soju heavy on his lips. "But you can’t deny that you love it."

Before you could retort, Shota closed the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours. The kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but it quickly deepened. Your initial surprise melted away, replaced by a rush of emotions.

You kissed him back, your hands instinctively moving to his shoulders. Shota's arms wrapped around your waist, gently pulling you closer as if to ensure you were real, tangible, and there with him in that moment. Each touch felt like fire, a rush of desire and anticipation that made your head spin. Your own hands wandered, trailing along his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric of his shirt.

As Shota pulled back slightly, his hands still tightly gripping your waist, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that spoke of desire and longing. There was a hunger in his eyes, a silent question lingering in the air between you, as if he needed your permission to lose himself in the moment completely. You felt the heat of his breath against your lips, his proximity sending a rush of anticipation through your body. His fingers tightened ever so slightly against your skin, a silent plea for affirmation.

Your heart raced in response to his unspoken request, your own desire mirroring his. With a breathless nod, you leaned in closer, closing the gap between you once more. "Yes," you murmured, your voice a whisper filled with need and yearning.

A low, almost imperceptible growl of satisfaction rumbled from Shota's throat as he pressed his lips fervently against yours again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more urgent, as if both of you were finally giving in to the magnetic pull that had been building between you for so long.

Hands sliding down to grip your hips, he helped pull you onto his lap, straddling him on the couch. Gliding one of his hands up under the hem of your shirt and resting it on the small of your back, he pulled you flush against his own torso. Offering kisses along his jawline, you felt a bulge begin to grow beneath you. Rolling your hips against him, you licked a stripe down his neck, leaving a hickey at the base. A low explicit moan escaped Shota. An ache was growing within you at each sound that escaped his lips and met hip roll, soft moans escaping from your own.

“Fuck,” hissed Shota. “Your moans sound so pretty, babe.”

Slipping his hands up your shirt, he groped your tits over your bra. You let out a small whimper, head falling back. You were becoming acutely aware of the growing wet patch you could feel between your legs. Lifting your shirt above your head and tossing it aside, you placed your own hands over Shota’s, guiding them to unclip your bra. Sliding the straps down your arms, he hungrily tossed your bra aside.

“You’re so hot,” he growled, locking eyes with you. You felt desire growing even more intense within your core as he brought his mouth down to meet your hard nipples. Licking circles and nipping at your buds, you brought your hands to his hair, gently pulling as you moaned. Eventually letting go with a pornographic pop, he turned his attention back to your face.

“I need you, Shota,” You whined at him, your hands finding their way under his shirt and gently yanking it up. Complying with your request, Shota flung his shirt towards the position yours occupied on the floor.

Sliding off his lap, you sat between his legs on the wood floor. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you began to slide your hand up the inside of Shota’s thigh. Looking back down at you with half hooded eyes, you could see his cock straining harshly against his pants. Sliding your hand down his chest, you found yourself palming at his bulge. Overrun with need, he couldn’t help but try to buck into your hand.

You chuckled to yourself, “someone’s needy, huh?” Groaning at you, Shota threw his head back against the couch, exasperated.

“I’d like to show you what needy feels like,” He scoffed at you.

“Really? I bet you can’t,” You teased.

He smirked, “Oh - fuck - I will, but right now I need my cock in your pretty mouth. Shit.”

Looking up at him, you smiled while biting your lip. Sliding your hands up his thighs, you look your fingers hook gently into the waistband of his jeans. Eyeing his reactions to every small move you made, you slid your fingers towards the button of his jeans. You unbuttoned his jeans at a pace he found unbearable.

“Mmm - preferably this century,” he groaned. You smirked at him. Unzipping his jeans, you pulled them down, Shota lifting himself up to make it easier. As you took in the sight in front of you, the boy all sprawled out on his couch just for you, you noticed a small wet spot forming from precum in his boxers.

Stroking him through his boxers, you asked, “Is this what you wanted?”

Whimpering, Shota took your hand in his. Dipping it inside his boxers, he started to stroke his cock with your hand. As he let go of you, he pulled down his boxers, his cock springing against his abdomen. Spitting into your palm, you took him into your two hands, adjusting the speed and grip to see what could elicit the loudest moan from him.

Looking down at you, he ran his fingers through your hair. “ I said I wanted it in your mouth,” He demanded. You felt a pulse shoot straight through you. Looking up at him with big eyes, you licked a long stripe from base to tip. Taking his tip into your mouth, he let his head fall back on the couch with a groan. His hands tangling in your hair, you took as much of his length into your mouth as you could muster. Bobbing your head, you pressed your thighs together searching for your own relief. Not even trying to hold back, Shota’s loud and beautiful moans filled the room.

Looking up at him as you choked up and down on his cock, Shota stammered, “Wanna fuck your face so bad.”

Letting go of his cock with a pop, you said, “Why don’t you then?”

Within what felt like milliseconds, Shota had your nose pressed to his abdomen, cock deep in your mouth. Gripping tightly onto your hair with both hands, he pumped quickly in and out of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin. Despite the ‘take no bullshit’ front you liked to put up, you loved the feeling of being a fuck toy for the boy. As he continued relentlessly, his pace began to falter, signifying his approaching climax. Moans, skin against skin, and the sounds of gagging filled the room.

“Fuck-,” Shota moaned. “I’m so close.”

As he tried to pull out of your mouth, you grabbed tightly onto his hips, warm cum spilling into your mouth and down your throat. Moaning extra-loudly, his body began to go limp as he rode his high. Pulling off of his cock, you swallowed the salty substance, coughing slightly. Sitting up, you wiped your chin and mouth with the back of your hand. Pushing on his thighs, you rose to your feet before sitting next to him on the couch. You felt a fire burning in your core, while adoration simultaneously filled your chest. Whatever confusion may have lingered about how the two of you each felt had vanished completely, overtaken by sheer lust.

“Are you okay babe? That felt amazing,” Shota asked, genuine concern and care painted across his flushed face. Nodding rapidly, you laid your head on his chest. Pushing your head up, Shota looked into your eyes with what could only be described as pure desire.

“You gonna let me fuck you for real now?” He asked, hands finding their way back to your chest. You whimpered as he took your sensitive nipples into his fingers.

“Please.”

With that, Shota brought his lips to meet yours, kissing you aggressively. One hand played with your nipple while the other held onto your neck. He laid you down on your back, kicking his boxers and pants away. Hoving over you, the two of you continued to kiss and leave needy love bites all over each other. Kissing down your neck, Shota took your other nipple into his mouth, eliciting a desperate moan from you.

“Mmm, so good, Shota,” You whimpered, tangling your hands in his blond hair. Letting his hand go off your nipple, he traced your curves down to your thighs. Slipping his hand between your legs, he suddenly pushed his hand hard against your core, a gasp escaping your lips. Letting go of your nipple with a pop, Shota chuckled. Sliding his hand up to your waistband, he looked up to meet your gaze with dark eyes.

“Is it okay?” He asked, taking his lip between his teeth. You nodded breathlessly, desperately. “I need to hear you say it.” He stated.

“Yes, please. Please,” You practically begged him.

Sliding his hand below the waistband of your pants, he slid your pants down to your ankles before tossing them to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. Admiring you laying there in front of him only in your underwear, his cock seemed to harden again, even more if it was possible. You felt shy laying there so vulnerable in front of him, his eyes scanning over your body as if he wanted to remember every detail of you. You couldn’t help but do the same of him; his brown eyes blown out with lust, blond hair sticking to his forehead, neck flushed red.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Shota teased, breaking you from your trance. You couldn’t help but grow shy at the comment, covering your face with your forearm and letting out a huff.

“Maybe I will,” You retorted. “At least it’ll give me something pretty to look at later.”

Leaning down with a smile on his face, Shota connected your lips with his, his lips soft and plush. Bringing your hands to his neck, you ran your hands through the hair at the back of his head. Sliding his hand down your side, he intensified the kiss, lightly biting your bottom lip.

Hovering over you on his knee, you couldn’t help but to try and rut down against his leg, desperate for any friction you could get. Breaking away from the kiss, he chuckled down at you. He knew you were getting antsy. Sitting up, he ran his hands up your thigh, watching goosebumps cover your legs. Sliding his hand over the wet spot on your underwear, a light moan escaped your lips.

“Shota, please. I need you,” You begged him, eyebrows furrowing.

“Patience,” Shota laughed, retracting his hand. Turning around briefly, you could hear him searching around through the side table, admiring his broad shoulders as he did. When he turned back around, he had a condom in his hand which he set beside you on the couch.

Biting your lip as you looked up at him,“Please.”

With that, Shota gently tugged at the waistband of your underwear. Obliging his request, you lifted your hips off the couch. As Shota tossed your underwear off to God knows where, you could feel your desire grow.

Leaning forward, Shota connected your lips in an intense kiss. As he did, he slid his hands between your legs, finding your clit quickly. Eyes rolling back in your head, you let out a moan. Though he was only thumbing at your sensitive bud, you swore you could see stars. You hadn’t realized just how badly you needed his touch all that time. Feeling his hand against your core, you felt like you could’ve come unraveled right then.

Just then, though, Shota broke away from your kiss, sitting back on his knees. Ripping open the condom wrapper, he slid the condom down his hard length. As you moved your legs to each side of him, Shota carefully scooted towards you.

Taking his cock in his hand, he traced the tip through your wet folds, sending a shiver down your spine. Spitting into his hand, he gave himself several pumps before biting his lip and looking up at your face.

“If you need me to stop, you’ll tell me, right?” He asked, suddenly seeming more nervous than the boy who had just fucked your face minutes ago.

“Promise, Shota,” You replied, reaching down to rub his arm.

Looking up at his face, you gave him eyes as if to say ‘Just fuck me already’. Taking your hint, Shota lined himself up with your entrance, one hand holding onto your hip and the other pressing down on your stomach. Slowly sinking into your heat, you could feel the stretch and burn from trying to accommodate him. As he bottomed out, you reached your hand out grabbing for his, head thrown back.

“Fuck-,” You muttered. Shota’s eyebrows furrowing, he eyed you cautiously. “Please, fuck me,” You demanded.

Shota began to move at a slow pace first, gradually increasing his speed. Moving his hand from your stomach, he began to rub familiar circles in your core. As he did this, all you could feel was pure bliss, a warm feeling tingling throughout your body.

The room filled with the sounds of skin against skin, high pitched moans mixing with low grunts, couch shaking against the wooden floors. As you stared at the ceiling of his apartment, eyes half lidded, Shota moved his hands to your hip, desperate to get any leverage. Moving your own hands to rest on top of his, you couldn’t hold back the lewd noises spilling from your mouth.

“Mmm- fuck, Shota,” You moaned, back arching.

“Doing so good for me,” He stammered.

You brought one of your hands to your own core, rubbing desperate circles in time with his thrusts, the other hand gripping tightly onto his. With each thrust of his hips, he hit a sweet spot deep within you. You could feel the coil inside you growing tighter with each second.

As you felt yourself starting to lose control, it was evident that Shota was starting to lose control as well. His pace was faltering slightly, thrusts becoming messier, breath becoming shakier. His platinum hair was stuck against his forehead with sweat.

“I- I’m so close,” You stuttered out, sweat dripping down your own face.

“That’s it, doll,” Shota moaned, “come undone for me.”

With the sound of his moan, you felt the coil within you snap. Your whole body shook aggressively, legs instinctively closing around Shota, grasping for anything to hold on to. You could see white, your whole body going warm.

Shota’s hands gripped your hips as tight as he could as his thrusts continued to falter. Biting his lip with eyes scrunched, you could see him approaching his own high. As you began to approach overstimulation, his own coil snapped, eyebrows furrowing and jaw dropped open. His hips shuttered, spewing streams of cum into the condom, nails digging into your hips. Coming to a halt, he collapsed on top of you.

As you both struggled to catch your breath, Shota gently removed himself from you, tossing the condom away in the process. As Shota sat down at the end of the couch, you carefully sat up to join him, leaning against his chest. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, gently squeezing you in a hug.

“That was amazing,” Shota commented.

“You weren’t half bad yourself, twinkle toes.”

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