You never had much, but you had dance. Even when your bank account hit zero and your dinner was instant noodles, your feet still moved. You uploaded clips of your routines now and then, mostly for yourself, never expecting more than a few likes. So when a group of well-dressed people approached you after a street session, you assumed it was a scam. “We’re from HYBE,” one of them said, showing a badge. “We’d like to offer you a spot in J-Hope’s upcoming music video. He saw one of your videos.”

You blinked. “Wait… J-Hope? As in the J-Hope?” You thought to yourself thinking it was a dream

Three days later, you were in Korea, standing inside a massive rehearsal studio. And then he walked in. Jung Hoseok. Calm, confident, radiating that dancer’s energy you knew from every fancam

He smiled, nodded at you. “Let’s dance,” he said in accented English, a translator by his side.

For three days, you trained together: countless repetitions, corrections, sweat, and accidental touches. His hands on your waist during lifts. His warm gaze whenever you nailed a move. Every second made it harder to pretend this was just a job

Then came shoot day. Stylists transformed you with makeup, sleek outfit, sharp hair. You looked in the mirror and barely recognized yourself. On set, the music started, and J-Hope was in front of you, shirt half open, chest rising with the beat

He grabbed your waist. Pulled you into the choreography. Each move felt like fire. When the music stopped, your chest heaved, and his eyes never left yours.

“You did well,” he murmured, his voice low, unreadable

Afterward, he invited you to his apartment. Just to “chill,” he said

You followed, still in a daze. His place was sleek, modern. He disappeared for a moment, then came back wearing nothing but a black robe, slightly open, revealing his toned abs and glistening skin. He walked straight to you. Locked the door. Then he pinned you gently to the wall, one hand firm on your waist, the other brushing your jaw as his eyes dropped to your lips.

“I must say,” he whispered, voice deep and rough, “your moves impressed me…” His grip tightened slightly. “…but damn, you turn me on.”