#my 3 sectioned method in my shower thoughts fic ???

[luv-again]

the older I get, the more value I find in planning my writing pieces

i used to HATE it when I was younger bc I thought it obstructed my creative flow, but now I need it more than ever bc my memory is abysmal and I forget details/themes etc. If I do not block them out, they'll be gone to the void, I'm afraid </3

cheers to any and all creative development !! I think it adapts with us as time goes on

[gluion]

finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, gender neutral reader, some depressive and insecure thoughts, hurt/comfort, the last five years story-telling method (aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward... i hope that makes sense), brief mention of blood from picking on your skin, tiger parents so... parental issues, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, jealousy remains but love triumphs, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ 15.7k words

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by reneé rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ it's finally out! this is my submission for @deoboyznet's the love letter collective event! this work is so so personal to me on so many levels so i hope you all love and treat this fic with care :')) for the bitches who struggle with parents and dreams.... this one's for you (i am in the same boat) i appreciate everyone who's been so patient and looking forward to this fic's release. i'd like to thank @hcuyk for being a betareader for this fic! i also want to dedicate this one to @sungbeam and @wavesmp3 <3 your works inspire me so much and i think this fic is a product of how much they've influence me. hanbin's version is now available! please don't forget to reblog and leave feedback!!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

present -> three weeks after the interview, 2024

the newsroom never sleeps. the rings of landlines and clacks of keyboards bounce off the four walls. through light bulbs or sunshine, light continues to remain. and at every corner, a journalist stands—ready to enter the depths of slumber but remain on their toes as they await for an update on their unraveling story.

but the newsroom is rarely busy unless there’s a major nationwide event, election season or the super bowl to name a few, for most journalists are out to discover what the world has to offer.

knowledge doesn’t only come from the chitchat of your coworkers. it’s only on the field that you’ll hear of hearsay and testimonies. after all, the choice to probe rests on your shoulders.

“there’s a typo over there.”

“huh? where?”

“over here,” you mumble as your finger darts to point at a section on the screen. “it’s supposed to say “in their climactic performance on road to kingdom,” not climatic.”

“ah, i see it now. sorry about that,” lee jihoon of digital development says as he corrects the error. his hair is disheveled from the hood that once perched on his head during the night he spent in the newsroom. you would’ve scolded the guy—go home and take a shower before you stink up the place—but you are no better, grouped with the other journalists who stayed up in the office.

“there we go. should be all good. now, are you ready to go through the profiles?”

an exhausted chuckle departs from your lips. “yeah, let’s go—”

“what’s the update?” life and arts editor kim namjoon—your editor—comes to you with a smile.

the grey hoodie he wears paired with comfortable jeans shows that he’s a little relaxed. for once, you don’t see him on his phone, battling the deadlines or getting pitched stories by the other editors. it’s a nice sight but one that won’t last for long.  

“we just finished going through the article about the group, so we still have yet to go through the profiles.” jihoon then looks at you. “i can’t believe you basically wrote 12 articles. like, 11 profiles and one main article is a lot. you didn’t want to work on it with anyone else?”

once namjoon stands beside you, you bump your shoulder against his figure. “i didn’t have a choice, did i?” it’s a rhetorical question but one your editor still chooses to answer.

“unfortunately, we’re understaffed, but it seemed like you got the hang of it. i wouldn’t have trusted anyone else to do it.” namjoon shoots you a smile before redirecting his attention back to jihoon. “and as much as i’d love to tell y/n more, we have to pick up the pace.” without any further questions, the three of you resume with work. 

there’s no time to waste in the journalism industry. still, his praise doesn’t go unnoticed. 

one article turned into eight done in a matter of 30 minutes, all with the help of three pairs of eyes to go through them. (namjoon seemed to carry the heavy lifting. after all, the guy was trained to be quick in reading and spotting errors.)

it should’ve been easy to keep up with your editor for all the other articles; you know each profile like the back of your hand.

then, the face of a boy who you once knew sits on the screen.

his gaze seems to pierce through your soul, almost in the same way you last talked to him. the loose ends of composure slip through your fingers; your breath’s stuck in your throat as the hammering of your heart fills your ears. yet, he stands still on the monitor.

as your eyes drift through the passages you’ve written, every sound is drowned out. the voice of your editor fades like the everchanging seasons and the clicks of the keyboard resemble the sobs you let out in the comfort of your childhood room.

and suddenly, the hands of the clock have turned all the way back to 2014. the cubicles transformed into aisles of chips and instant ramen, and you hear mr. kim’s voice in the distance—i have some hotteok! fresh from the pan! but amidst it all, you hear the giggles of the boy, your best friend, as he rushes towards you—i’ll go audition and make you proud. as your arm is wrapped with the heat of his fingers, you almost believe that your life as a journalist is nothing but a dream—

“i knew him.” the illusion disappears within a blink of an eye. namjoon’s eyes snap towards you and jihoon stops scrolling through the website. “we went to the same high school.”

you aren’t sure why you revealed that to your coworkers, let alone your boss. it’s an old memory—your weight to carry. before you can apologize for disrupting their work, namjoon’s hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb drawing shapes into it. when you look over at him, you’re greeted by his smile. it resembles your bed after a long day of work or a slow day at the newsroom.

but it never lives up to him, whose giggles resemble nature’s symphonies. the two shots of espresso you need at the start of the day once came in the form of his warm embrace. most of all, his smile is enough to illuminate the world even through the strongest storms and times when power went out.

for the remaining articles, not a single word leaves you. before you know it, all 12 articles were ready to go up on the web.

“that’s all of it. should i still schedule them to go up around 12 p.m.?” jihoon notes as he saves the drafts.

“yeah, 12 p.m. still sounds good. thanks a lot.” namjoon nudges his shoulder before looking over to you. “let’s talk in my office.”

you don’t question his orders. once namjoon takes off, you follow him all the way to his office. as he swings the door open, you are met with the familiar sight of his workspace. hues of green and brown mix, where nature and art meet within the space of corporate.

once namjoon takes a seat on his chair, you find your spot across from him. his eyes stare off to the window. for a moment, you’re not sure what to expect from this impromptu meeting.

seconds pass and not a single word has been said—

“this place’s always alive,” your editor breaks the silence. “don’t you think so?”

you follow his line of sight. busy seoul never changes; the skyscrapers pollute the sky and the people never sleep, off to work or off to party.

“where’d you grow up again?”

you look back at namjoon whose eyes still remain locked on the city. “cheongju.”

he hums. “i haven’t been there. nice place?”

“yeah, but i haven’t gone back in a while.”

“when was the last time?” his eyes finally meet yours.

your teeth grasp the inside of your cheek. “2014, since i first left,” you admit. 

“do you miss it?”

you’re not sure how to answer. the pavements you’ve scraped your knees against and the walls your laughs bounced off of—do you miss them all? or is the reason behind your laughter and scabs the one you long for?

“is that why you were hesitant about interviewing them?” namjoon’s thumbs fiddle with each other. “because of your history with him?”

now, you stare at your linked hands. maybe the silence from you is enough to answer his question but you know namjoon would never settle for a soundless answer.

“i—i’m not a good person. and even if i didn’t make the choice to leave, i—” you hold yourself back. your fingers start to pick on the skin around your thumbs, peeling it so blood can spill. 

“it’s okay, i understand. you don’t have to share it with me.” your eyes drift back to namjoon, spotting a small smile that rests on his face. “it must’ve been hard to relive it all.”

the bond you have with namjoon is one that you hold close to your heart. through his mentorship, you got to learn about what it means to be a writer. the fears of being a journalist would loom over you, where questions of salary and demanding work hours would occupy your mind, but namjoon became someone who would absolve them all. he became a pillar in your life, one that provides you hope and comfort within the industry.

“so, don’t feel pressured to talk about it. but if you ever want to open up about it, then i’ll be here.”

namjoon’s giving you an exit. are you willing to take it?

you cross your arms as you lean back into the chair. “you know how i was a science major then?”

“yeah, i remember looking over your resume. and then i saw that you were part of your university’s publication.”

your tongue pushes against the inside of your cheek. “i would’ve gotten some job in that field, like, i had it lined up for me.”

“really? like lab coat and all?”

as namjoon attempts to hold back his laugh over the image, you chuckle along. “yeah, lab coat and all! it’s crazy how my life was all set for that field, but i’m here now.” you look down at your arms. “i think just facing him in a completely different field that i once used to imagine with him was just strange. but i think hearing his answers really did it for me.”

namjoon nods at your words. “care to have lunch with me?” your eyes snap back to your editor. “i’m guessing you want to talk about it, after all.”

all you do is smile before getting off your seat.

spring of 2014

the season of spring has graced cheongju; the sun gleams in the expanse of blue and birds perched on tree branches sing their songs. it’s the perfect season to embrace the wonders of the town.

while it would be a delight to bask under the returning warmth, you’re stuck within the walls of the classroom, head resting on crossed arms. 

still, the lilacs have yet to bloom.

“y/n.” you quickly sit up before your eyes settle on your adviser, ms. jeon, who stands in front of the classroom. “let’s take attendance.”

with that, you’re beside her as you call out each name on the class list. it’s a quick process of saying your classmates’ names for them to respond in variations of “present,” until you reach the section of last names that start with a ‘j’.

“ji changmin.” no response.

you rip your eyes off the piece of paper, only met with your classmates who either look at each other in confusion or spaced out in their own worlds.

“ji changmin?” when you’re met with the same reaction, you’re ready to mark the student absent—

“sorry!” the doors slam open. a boy clad in a white polo and jogging pants is panting by the entrance, covered in sweat as he rests on the edge of it. “sorry, i’m late.”

“oh, it’s okay! you arrived just in time.” ms. jeon smiles at the tardy student. as you watch him take a seat, his eyes lock with yours, but your adviser nudges you before saying, “y/n, proceed.”  

ji changmin made his name a few years back at a competition. the applause and roars from the crowd marked his spot in the school. others describe his movement as of cranes, standing in the middle of a pond as they do their best to minimize forming any ripples, or of elephants, swaying their trunks with control like no other.

but he’s a versatile dancer; nothing can truly capture him.

once you’ve finished marking the attendance, you go back to your seat. you’re ready to start the day with no bother but you can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

“now, you can see in these,” your art teacher, ms. park, points to the screen showcasing works from her favorite contemporary artists like kwon yongju and félix gonzález-torres, “that there are no borders to what constitutes art. and that’s not wrong because we have to recognize that art comes in different forms as we progress, from traditional painting and sculptures to digital ones.”

this field isn't your strong suit. with a greater understanding of the sciences, you struggle to create anything that could be on par with the works of any artist. yet, you enjoyed learning about every piece that your teacher shared, like unfolding and admiring something you know you can never replicate or create. still, the universe decides that they have other plans for you.

“as i mentioned before, i’ll be giving you time to work on your final assessment, which is to create an artwork for the class exhibit. for this deliverable, i’m asking that your work will be a collaborative one, meaning you aren’t working alone.” in a sea of chatter, some groans exit your classmates. “remember, inspiration doesn’t come from your own bubble! take this as your opportunity to create something that you’ve never imagined.”

within a split second, students are off their seats as they attempt to find a partner to work with. you, however, were struggling to think of who you could team up with. admittedly, you have a very different work style compared to others—even cheng xiao, aspiring valedictorian, didn’t enjoy working with you. she turned every activity into a competition against you. (you didn’t enjoy her, either.) while you’re considering shamefully going up to your classmates like a stray dog looking for anyone willing to care for them—

“hi!” in front of you stands the tardy student of today, all smiles as his hands find comfort in the pockets of his jogging pants. “do you have a partner already?”

with furrowed eyebrows, you can’t help but look him up and down. “no, why?”

“well,” changmin looks around the classroom, “everyone seems to have paired up except for us.” as his eyes drift back to you, he flashes you a smile, one that shows the dips engraved into his cheeks. “which leaves me to ask if you would like to work with me for this.”

you don’t have a choice. ms. park would never bend the rules for you. if anything, she would find a way to pair you with another student who would dread the idea of working with you. (“i’m sure they won’t mind being partners with you, right?” is what she would ask the poor student, only to be met with their retreat.)

“unless we accept a failing mark, which i’m sure we both don’t want.” it’s not like changmin had a choice as well.

“okay.” with one word, light fills his eyes, enough to resemble the starlight that grazes your skin every night. “we can meet and discuss our schedules, especially because i’ve got ap stat, and you have, uhm,” a cough leaves you, “training, i’m assuming, or rehearsals. i don’t really know what you call them.”

his eyebrows shoot up as his mouth parts open. “o—oh, yeah. i usually have training after class until 8 p.m. on tuesdays, thursdays, and saturdays.”

“same. my classes are until 7 p.m. on tuesdays and thursdays, so maybe we can use the other days to work together?”

with one nod from him, his dimples reappear. “great! i’ll see you tomorrow.”

before you know it, everyone finds their way back to their seats for ms. park’s final reminders. you do your best to pay attention to every announcement, jotting down every word on your planner and planning out your agenda for the upcoming weeks. yet, your eyes seem to have a mind of their own as they drift back to the boy who discreetly passes notes to kim donghan, another dancer on the team, all while listening to the teacher.

you don’t notice how long you spend staring at changmin until he turns to meet your gaze. in that split second, you look at each other—then, embarrassment washes over you. you shift your attention back to ms. park. as you drum your fingers against the desk, mentally kicking yourself over the interaction, you still can’t shake the feeling of being watched.

you look back at changmin; he’s still looking at you.

his dimples make their reappearance before he looks back at ms. park. you do the same as you attempt to listen to her ramble about banksy’s works. 

(you’re still thinking about the dips in his cheeks.)

the first time you get to meet with changmin for the project happens the following week. you two had different commitments to attend to, whether it be other projects or training. and while you would usually settle to meet in the school library or a cafe nearby, you find yourself inside the empty gymnasium, sitting on bleachers while your partner stands in front of mirrors.

“don’t you think it would be nice to combine our hobbies together?”

your pencil taps against the notebook. “like, your dancing? with what?”

“whatever you like to do!” once he makes his way to you, he leans on the row in front of you with crossed arms. “i mean, do you have anything you like to do during your free time?”

a scoff leaves you. “funny of you to assume that i have free time.”

“what’s your schedule like?”

“well, i have our classes and ap ones, then kumon at night.”

changmin reels at the thought of your schedule. “that’s brutal. the last time i had kumon was back in grade 4.”

“yeah, but i’m sure yours is busy as well. the amount of time that you put into training is…” his eyes are wide, hanging on your words. it’s the hope they hold that has you say, “admirable.”

a shy smile takes over his features. “yeah, but it’s only because my family is supportive of what i do.”

then, limbs whose color resembles the void slither their way to your heart, wrapping around it while the organ struggles to beat; it’s a slow process but an unending hole that will birth from it. yet, you do your best to fight off these limbs, unraveling them one by one in hopes it will give up—until you settle for shaking them off.

you only muster out a hum.

“do you have anything you like to do during those short breaks?”

your lips trill. “i don’t know. watch something on youtube?”

his cheeks puff up, stuck in his thoughts as he tries to navigate this project—and you—until his eyes glint. “what do you do when you want to vent?”

“you sure have a lot of questions,” you comment, trying to hold back a chuckle at his curiosity. “i can just adjust to you. maybe attempt to draw, picture, or even film you.”

his eyebrows furrow. “but that wouldn’t make it collaborative. i want us to work on something that aligns with what we do.”

a beat passes.

he holds your gaze. “i want us to create something that shows us.”

inside you, a gong is struck; its sound reverberates throughout your body, from the crown of your forehead to the tips of your toes. then, silence seeps in—a moment only for you and him.

“i, uh, write,” you whisper as your eyes shift to the notebook resting on your lap.

“really? like, stories and poetry?”

you nod. “i like writing people’s stories more, but i do like making ones.” when you look back at changmin, his eyes are still filled with curiosity. “i would, like, find interviews online and try to make my own, sort of, uhm—god this is embarrassing. forget about it.”

“huh? no, it isn’t!” he attempts to reassure your shrunken figure. “i mean, you don’t have to share more if you really don’t want to, but i’d like to hear more about it.” and when his dimples appear, you almost can’t help but feel your face warm up.

“i’d make articles, i guess?” he nods along with your words. “i don’t know, it’s just interesting to hear about people’s lives and kind of create something out of it, and i like thinking about all the possibilities of who would love to hear them. like, don’t you think that some of the stories that we read hold fragments of someone?”

“that’s an interesting way to look at it.”

as you doodle on your notebook, you say, “yeah, it’s just fun to hear these stories and maybe create something out of it. or even think of stories that i could never live out, you know?” you expect yourself to be met with the bored face of changmin but his eyes remain on you.

“what if you interview me?”

your eyebrows shoot up. “you?”

“yeah,” he stands up before walking up to your row, finding a spot beside you. “think of me as your first interviewee if you want.”

the sudden suggestion has you stumbling over your words. “huh? b—but, i don’t have questions prepared. and how does this help our project?” 

when his arms brush against yours, you start to become aware of the distance between your shoulders—and his face from yours. warmth spreads throughout your body, almost like you’re about to have a fever. once his open hand rests near yours, you don’t know what he’s asking.

“let me draw it out for you.” you hand him your pencil and notebook, allowing him to see your doodles. (you don’t miss his grin.) “you know, with that article you make, we can cut it up and create something out of it.” a roughly drawn sketch of a boy posed in the middle of a dance move now rests on the page. “i don’t know if a collage would be okay.”

as you think about what can be done, you perch your chin on your palm. “we can do papercut art? basically, it’s cutting up the article in a way to form an image.”

“oh, that sounds cool!”

“yeah, but the only challenge is that we can only use one piece of paper.” a sigh leaves you. “it would be impossible for me to even do that.”

“that’s why you have me.” his small smile causes wind chimes to ring. (you’re positive you heard them, even if there were no such things in the gymnasium.)

he continues to sketch out the layout of your joint artwork. “how do we feel about this?” on the paper, there are two boxes beside the figure, where one is labeled as “photo of me” while the other is labeled “an article by y/n.” your head tilts. “it’ll be a three-set piece. so, it’ll be a photo of me and your article, and in between is the papercut art that we’ll make.”

you hum. “you know, you’re very creative.” you look at him only to see that he’s been staring at you. “like, you’re inclined to the arts. i wouldn’t have been able to think of something like this.”

“you’re just as creative,” he argues back as he writes down something.

you shake your head before retorting, “changmin, you’re very talented. i’ve seen the way you dance,” his movements halt, “and you’re like no other dancer i’ve seen. if you ever try out to be an idol, i’m sure you’d do great, maybe end up on the list of the best dancers in the industry.”

but he shakes his head, going back to writing on your notebook and shutting down your compliments. you decide to not push.

“i can get the photo sometime during my training,” he says as he hands you your notebook.

“then i can have the questions sometime this week. for the article, i can have it done maybe four days after the interview. how does wednesday, after school, sound for the interview?”

he shoots you a smile before standing up from his seat. “that’s perfect! i’m looking forward to meeting journalist y/n.” you can’t help but scoff at what he calls you. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing,” you shake your head. “it’s just a silly name.” because the reality is that you had your future planned out—and it definitely didn’t involve that field.

he shrugs. “i don’t know, i think it would fit you.”

“but you haven’t read any of my works.”

“but i want to root for you in the same way you do for me. i don’t want you to feel ashamed of your works.” a fire ignites in your heart; it’s a fireplace.

you’re baffled that changmin, out of all people, now holds your secret, but you’re even astounded over the idea of him supporting you. you almost can’t remember the last time you heard such words of support. is it genuine or nothing but a facade?

“anyway, i’ve got to go. i need to catch up on some homework.” while you shoot him a nod, his dimples make their appearance once more. “i’ll see you tomorrow!” as he takes off, you’re left in the gymnasium with your opened notebook and unlocked heart. you look back down at his sketch surrounded by your doodles, but you don’t miss his little note—cute doodles btw <3

the season of spring has unfolded in cheongju; a single lilac has bloomed.

present -> a day before the interview, 2024

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was something home cooked. something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stock up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob dashes away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

you and changmin were once painted with the hues of the sun. this reunion is tainted with blue.

changmin’s fingers tense up, almost as if he was hesitating—debating—on how to approach you. his body would waver, but he never took a step towards you. “i… i wasn’t expecting to meet you here.” 

“same here.” you lean your back against the checkout counter. “d—do you stay around this part of the city?”

he shakes his head. “i live around 15, maybe 20, minutes away from here. i’m only here because…” your breath gets caught in your throat. “i don’t know.”

fate. that’s what brought us here.

“do you live here?”

you nod. “yeah, ever since—” the sentence never gets completed; you and him already know.

for a moment, sorrow flashes in his eyes, but a smile shows up. the dimples don’t appear. “i, uh, i was going to get something from here but it seems like your friend is busy.”

“sorry about jongseob.” you whip out your phone and scold him through text. “he should be with us in a bit.”

changmin hums before walking to the freezer filled with different ice cream. as he looks through the selection, he asks, “do you still like twin bar?”

“y—yeah.”

“still the grape flavor?” you don’t know what to say, but when his gaze meets yours, you settle for a nod. with your favorite ice cream in one hand and a sandwich in the other, he finally walks towards you. you don’t miss the slight stagger in his steps.

changmin finds his spot beside you. there’s still distance between you two—two tiles worth, enough space for one person—but it’s enough for your muscles to freeze. thankfully, jongseob comes just in time to manage the cashier (with an awkward smile plastered on).

he scans changmin’s item first before grabbing onto your ice cream.

“oh, i’m paying—”

“no, let me,” changmin insists. “you can always treat me another time.”

you bite the inside of your cheek, thinking over the second half of his sentence. jongseob holds back from scanning the item, until you shoot him a nod. changmin pays for the food before jongseob hands them to you.

“i’ll just let you know when the pizza gets here.” his small smile is enough for your shoulders to ease and a quiet exhale to leave. a small nod is all you give him.

you follow changmin outside to the tables in front of the mart. once he’s settled on a spot, you sit across from him. he tears away the plastic wrapping of his food while you play with the ends of yours. 

while he swallows what you assume to be his dinner of the day, you’re left to swallow your own pride.

“i’ve seen your performances.” his chews halt. “you’re—” captivating. “you’ve improved a lot.”  

with one gulp, a shy smile takes over his face. “i still have a long way to go.”

“you always say that, even back then.” a half bitten sandwich now rests on the wrapper. “but i admire your drive.” always have.

while a different version of changmin sits across you, the one you knew back in cheongju still lives. in the busy, unfamiliar expanse of seoul, meeting 10 years later, he’ll never be stranger. you could never treat him as such, even if you wanted to.

“there’s always room for improvement,” he says.

you hum along with his sentiment. “did you stick with early childhood education?” you’re met with his orbs that hold a thousand of emotions, some you can name as shock, confusion. a question hangs in the air—what did you deserve to know?

“sorry, i’m assuming you still went to college, which is totally fine if you did or didn’t, by the way. and it’s also okay if you didn’t stick to your major. i mean, you always talked about pursuing a performing arts degree before—”

“y/n,” he giggles, “you’re okay. i still went to college but i took media & communication.” your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “i thought it made sense to study something related to what i do, just the more technical and theoretical side of it, i guess. and the online classes were easy to squeeze into my schedule.” he lifts up the sandwich. “what about you?”

“uh, i ended up in the same course as well.” a hum of shock leaves changmin. “yeah,” you chuckle, “i managed to shift courses.”

“that’s amazing! i’m happy for you.”

you smile at him. “thanks. now, i’m just—” you should tell him what you do. what would be a better time to reveal that you ended up in the path he dreamed for you to be than now? “—figuring things out.”

with your vagueness, changmin only nods before munching away. if there’s anything about you that still remains, it’s that you shouldn’t be pushed to share something you didn’t want to talk about. he still knew that.

as he finishes his sandwich, you tear off the plastic wrapping of your ice cream. with the twin bar in your hands, you snap it into two before you hand him a piece. confusion paints his features, wide eyes glossing over the popsicle in your hand, but he takes it before you can say anything.

“thanks.”

you shake your head. “don’t even worry about it. it’s only tradition.”

silence settles between you two. as you eat away on your share of the twin bar, you look up to the sky. from where you sit, you can’t see a single star; the lights of seoul seemed to outshine them. and during those moments, you almost can’t help but miss the view of the starry night from your childhood room.

you glance at changmin who looks up to the sky as well. yet, one hand remains in his pocket, almost as if he’s fiddling with something. 

as if he feels your eyes on him, he asks, “did you ever think about coming back?”

you halt your movements. if there’s one thing you were expecting your old friend to ask, it would be related to your sudden departure. but you’re hit with an entirely different question, one you didn’t get to rehearse the answer to in case you ever cross paths with him. 

because after all this talk about your yearning for cheongju, why didn’t you choose to visit? despite how much you long mr. kim’s home cooked meals, skies filled with stars, or the presence of your best friend, why didn’t you ever come back?

if you miss home, why is your first instinct to run away from it?

and the reality is that you do think about it all the time. since you left cheongju, you drafted out how many plans to go back. you were homesick, missing the familiar landscape you spent your entire childhood growing up in. but most of all, you missed changmin. as long as you had him, you would survive anywhere, whether in seoul or cheongju.

despite how much you yearned for him during your years away, you learned that your relationship wasn’t always filled with the warmth that would grace you two every afternoon. for so long, you’ve sat with jealousy. while his family was his pillar of strength, you were met with a home that offered nothing but criticism.

the black limbs slowly ate away at your heart; the void was born.

it became easier to remain resentful. with the distance, you weren’t faced with changmin’s genuineness. yet, with time, you discovered that you still cared for him—regardless of your jealousy—because you still wanted more for him than you did for yourself.

for a long time, you resented. now, it’s only guilt that held you back from going back to him.

so when you remain silent, changmin takes it as your answer.

and for the first time, the distance feels greater since you first left cheongju.

summer of 2014

it’s the peak of summer. amidst the expanse of verdant fields, bees seek solace in the fully-bloomed sunflowers and kaleidoscope wings illuminate as they soar.

but summer is where mouths go dry and clothes cling to skin. as days blend with each other, the comfort of your bed is all you have until the season passes.

the fan rumbles against the wooden floor, doing its best to cool you, but the heat prickles against the back of your neck. the wind has turned into nothing but hot waves. with your elbows perched on the desk, a sigh leaves you as you attempt to make sense of the worksheet filled with math equations.

your room is your favorite place in cheongju. within these four walls are scattered fragments of you, from your favorite books and mangas that rest on the bookshelf to the stuffed toys that rest on your bed. book tabs stick out of your workbooks lined up on your desk and your cork board is filled with crossed out to-do lists.

and every once in a while, you would look out through your window, admiring the neighboring houses and all their greenery. as people walk on pavements, you cannot help but think about where they’re off to—are they on their way to work? did they leave an important document back home? or are they coming back to a meal and home filled with warmth?

despite the halo soundtrack filling your ears, the cogs in your brain seem to drown them out. the numbers on your paper have jumbled up. it should’ve been easy. after all, you’ve become friends with the letters who’ve squeezed their way into math. once you’ve wrapped up on this assignment, you know you’ll wake up to another set of work to do. it didn’t help that you’re stuck watching kids your age enjoy their break.

with a tired mind, you consider making yourself another cup of iced coffee. maybe another dose of caffeine will make sense of the numbers—

your phone buzzes against your table. as your eyes rip from the unfinished worksheet, you spot the familiar name flashing on the screen. with one glance at your door, you bring your headphones to rest around your neck. it takes three rings for you to answer.

“what do you want?”

“the fuck? what’s wrong with you?”

you roll your eyes as you fiddle with your pen. “i’m studying, you fucker.”

“on a sunday?” changmin’s question has you only groan. “what happened to resting?”

“i wish,” you murmur as you scratch the back of your head. “i’ve been stuck on this stupid worksheet for the past hours. it’s annoying too. i mean, i already know this topic, so i don’t know why it’s so hard.”

“awe, is my best friend suffering over kumon?”

your forehead rests on crossed arms. “yes. i think i’m going to die.”

“okay, then. i’ll take that as my sign.”

“sign to what?”

he chuckles as if it were obvious. “to save you! let’s go to mr. kim’s.”

a groan leaves you as your back meets the chair. “no, i can’t. do you know what would happen if i don’t finish my kumon?”

“uh… no?”

“me, neither. i’m not taking my chances.”

“but, you’re not even doing anything!” changmin pointing out the obvious has you rolling your eyes. “wouldn’t it be better to take a break with your best friend? i can even help out.”

as you bite the inside of your cheek, you glance once more at your closed door. you weigh it out; would you rather take a break with your best friend or would you save yourself from the consequences brought by home?

but the answer was already clear. “give me 10 minutes.”

changmin laughs before you drop the call.

it’s the smell of fresh hotteok that greets you. the quiet buzzing of the fan accompanied by mr. kim’s favorite trot music fills your ears. while the owner seems to be away from the cashier, a white, stray cat takes over, body flopped on the counter as it snores away the heat. as the sun pours through windows, coating every corner of the mart with a glow of fireflies, you know this will be a place of its own.

“y/n, over here!” a familiar voice calls out. as you whip your head to the source, you see your best friend by the chest freezer, eyes crinkled and all dimples.

now, you’re certain that nothing could ever replicate this.

you walk towards changmin, finding your spot beside him as you two look through the collection of frozen treats. “so, what do you want from here?” you ask.

“uh… i’ll be honest, i just realized i’m short on money.”

you glance through the price tags, only for a groan to leave you. “i’m short too. when did mr. kim raise the prices?”

“no clue. i thought i’d have enough to get a summer crush,” changmin complains as his eyes are glued to the coffee sorbet. “i hate inflation.”

“come on.” you fish out for the coins in your pocket. “let’s see how much we have together.” changmin does the same. with palms out, you two count through your shared funds.

“we can get a summer crush!”

“you can get one. i’ll be left with barely anything.” you look through the selection once more. “man, i really want samanco. the red bean sounds so good right now.”

defeat casts over changmin’s features. for a moment, you almost consider giving up on having a frozen treat and settling for a glass bottle of orange soda, until you spot a familiar popsicle brand.

“holy shit, it’s right there.”

“what?”

“there!” your finger points at the stack of twin bars. “we can probably get that and split it.”

changmin’s expression morphs into realization. “okay, let’s get—”

“dibs on grape.”

“dibs?” he furrows his eyebrows at you. “you can’t just call dibs. you’re doing it wrong. clearly, we should discuss—”

“nope,” you retort. a chuckle laced with disbelief leaves your best friend. to him, it seemed like you were joking around. “i made the suggestion and contributed a lot more to our shared funds.”

“okay, but—”

“don’t tell me you want the peach flavor more than the grape.” as you continue to shut him down, he knows there’s no way around you.

(plus, he wasn’t a fan of peach-flavored things, anyway. how unfortunate that mr. kim only has those two flavors right now.)

“next time, we’re choosing a flavor that i want,” he gives in. you let out a cheer before grabbing the frozen treat.

you two make your way back to the cashier and spot mr. kim slouched in front of the television, hand stroking the sleepy feline. he’s still wearing an old, red plaid apron on top of a pair of basketball shorts and a loose graphic tee which had the name of a band you’re unfamiliar with. with how he sits, you’re afraid that his back problems will get even worse. (still, you don’t say anything. he’ll only play it off and say he’s still one of the “youngins”... whatever that means.)

once his eyes land on you two, a grin takes over. “ah, my favorite kids! it’s nice to see you both.”

“yeah, it’s been a while,” changmin starts off. “y/n’s always busy with kumon.”

you narrow your eyes at the boy. “hey! you’re busy, too! you’ve been practicing at the studio almost every day!” the wrapped popsicle now rests on the counter. “every time i’m free, you’re not.”

“hey! whenever you’re free, i’m tired from training!”

“okay, let’s settle down,” mr. kim breaks up the banter. he then takes note of the ice cream on the cashier, the price showing up on the cashier. “isn’t the heat hard enough for you two to be studying or practicing?”

“yes, very much.” you count the coins once more before dropping the exact amount on the counter. “but,” you glance at changmin and his disheartened expression is enough for mountains to move, “i don’t think we have a choice.”

in reality, these were the circumstances you two had to work and live with. during the days changmin ended practice early, you were drowning in summer school assessments. whenever you managed to finish your homework, it would be during the hours your best friend was off at the studio or passed out at home from exhaustion.

“choice, no choice, people always say that.” mr. kim counts your payment before putting it into the cashier. as he takes note of what you’ve bought, he says, “everyone has a choice. i’m sure you two can figure it out.”

the only difference is that one chose this path; the other had to suffer from the decision forced onto them.

“don’t worry, mr. kim,” changmin nudges your shoulder. “i’m sure we’ll figure it out.” and when the dips in his cheeks appear, you find yourself smiling back.

maybe you were okay with the life you had to live, just maybe.

“anyway, we’ll go ahead,” changmin bids farewell to mr. kim.

you giggle. “he means we’re just going to eat our ice cream at the front.”

as you two slowly make your way out of the mart, mr. kim shakes his head. “you lovebirds go ahead. i’ll see you next time!”

“mr. kim!” you and changmin shout in unison before glancing at each other.

“what?!”

your best friend groans. “you know we aren’t together.”

“yeah! like, i can’t imagine it,” you join in.

still, the owner laughs at your reactions. “you two are so funny. just go and enjoy your ice cream.”

you roll your eyes at his words. “bye, mr. kim!”

with that, you and changmin were out of the mart and took a seat on the benches. you hand your best friend the wrapped frozen treat before letting out a sigh. “i still can’t believe this is one of the few times we got to meet up during the break.”

“i know.” he tears the plastic wrapping off. “you would think that summer break would mean we get to hang out nonstop, but i’m starting to think we saw each other more whenever we had school.”

you hum. “i know. and i had ap stat while you had training.” your eyes dart at changmin who grips onto the popsicle sticks, struggling to split it into two. “oh my god, don’t tell me you can’t split it.”

“hey! it’s hard.”

as you giggle, you reach your hand out. “let me do it.” once changmin hands you the twin bar, you attempt to split the two. for a moment, you almost think about agreeing with him. yet, the frozen treat splits into two perfectly, and a satisfied smile rests on your lips.

you hand him one popsicle, only to be met with his glare. “i know, i’m just better.”

“just shut up.” to that, another laugh leaves you.

under the sun, you enjoy the coolness of the twin bar. while you would’ve stared off to nowhere, you and changmin were here at the right time to catch civilians bustling away. some were on dates, where one would go on about their interest while the other would smile at their rambling. there were kids whose chatter could be heard all the way from the end of the block, and blue-collar men who were off to enjoy their break.

you can’t help but imagine what people saw—thought—of you and changmin. did they think of you as unexpected friends? has it ever crossed their minds that you two were only classmates who seemed to always be paired together? or did they ever think the same as mr. kim?

“you know,” changmin starts off, causing you to look at him, “i was going through college courses the other day.”

your eyebrows shoot up. “oh?”

with your reaction, changmin giggles. “i was just curious, you know? not that i’m giving up on dance or anything, but,” he licks the popsicle, “early childhood education sounds cool.”

you hum. “i wasn’t expecting that.”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“no, it’s not a bad thing!” you reassure the boy. “it’s just,” you rip your gaze off of changmin and look at the playground, “i always thought of you as a dancer, you know? kind of like you were meant for the stage.” the laughter of the kids who passed by you two bounces all over the block and you can’t help but smile. “but i don’t doubt it.”

the breeze graces your sweat-covered skin. “what about you?” you look back at him. “would you ever consider journalism? maybe communication as your major?”

you’re quick to laugh at his suggestion, but when confusion paints his features, you realize it’s a serious question from him.

“no.” it’s a straightforward answer from you, but changmin could never settle with that

“why not?”

a sigh leaves you. “i just don’t consider it. i mean, i think about it,” all the time, “but not enough to consider it. plus, astrophysics is cool.”

“but is it your dream?”

changmin’s question is an easy one to answer—not at all. you’ve had enough learning about theories and making sense of the numbers. if your future is going to only complicate that further, then maybe astrophysics isn’t made for you. 

but who’s to say that you’ll even enjoy journalism?

“we’ll see.” you leave it at that and changmin didn’t push for more.

because the reality is that if you ever did consider it, transform those dreams into action plans, you were terrified to be met with your parents’ disappointment—it wouldn’t only be from your lousy desires but from changmin’s role in your life.

the first time you mentioned changmin to your parents happened over dinner, letting them know you would be staying later at school to work on the final project for art class with him. they didn’t bat an eye at his name as they continued to talk about what happened during work and pester you about your progress in other classes. (art class didn’t matter to them, only the sciences and math were ones they seemed to track. still, they would criticize you if you didn’t place first honors.)

with your parents’ oversight, something blossomed between you and changmin. from there, there were more days you would get home later than usual. while you were still on top of your work, they took your late arrivals as a form of negligence.

all it took was one night for them to demand an explanation. the reappearance of him in the conversation had only caused them to reprimand you—changmin’s not like you. he’ll only hold you back. 

from that day on, you’ve learned to keep his name out of conversations. you’ll enjoy what you have with changmin, even if it has to be kept under the wraps.

“how’s training?” you change the subject, trying to keep the attention off of your failed dreams to changmin’s flourishing ones.

“well, it’s a lot,” he chuckles as he munches a piece. “you already know that it takes how many hours to get to the company, and the hours i spend in the practice room are unlike the trainings i have at school.”

as his eyes meet yours, you only shoot him an apologetic smile. it was never going to be easy; you two knew that before changmin entered the doors of the company. yet, he still held on.

“you know, i never considered it before, but i like where i’m going,” he admits. “even if i’ve always had dreams to pursue dance, i want to make my family proud if i ever get to debut.” 

changmin knows how to persevere. regardless of all the bruises he gets from performing complex dance routines or the hours of sleep he longs for, he knows how to hold on. you wish you could say the same for yourself.

“and you will,” you reassure the boy, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

he holds your stare and your smile falters. for a moment, you don’t know if you touched on a sensitive topic. would he shrug your arm off? do you think he’ll shut you off, maybe cut your time together short? will changmin get mad at you for something you didn’t know was wrong? would he be just like them?

“i want to make you proud.”

that’s enough to answer it all.

you shake your head. “don’t even doubt that for a second.” your arm finds it spot back to your side, and changmin’s loops his with yours.

although he knows how to persevere, he never knows when to shut his ears from the shadows. 

“i am proud of you,” you tell him. “always have, always will.” he can’t help but smile. all you can hope is that he’ll listen closely to your voice.

“i almost forgot,” he says out of nowhere.

“forgot what?”

as he tugs his arm away, his hand fishes for something in his pocket. “close your eyes.” you furrow your eyebrows. “just do it!” you follow his orders. “and keep them closed, okay?” you let out a hum.

before you know it, something wraps around your index finger. you would’ve opened your eyes, confused over the foreign yet familiar material, but they remain shut. 

“okay, open.”

your gaze rests on your finger wrapped in yellow and blue. it’s a finger trap—and the other end is connected to changmin. despite your tug, it still holds you two together.

it’s the warmth that fills your cheeks, the heartbeat in your ears, and your starstruck eyes that has him smile. “no matter what happens, we’ll stick together, okay? regardless of what paths we end up pursuing. all that matters is that we have each other.”

he’s filled with hope. hope for his dreams. hope for your relationship. hope for what the future holds for you two. you can’t help but hope as well.

all it takes is a nod from you to solidify the promise to the universe.

you two sit in silence, finishing up the popsicles as people continue to pass by. at one point, you heard mr. kim let out a curse over the drama he’s watching. the sun is about to set, wrapping you two in a golden blanket, and all that matters is the finger trap.

present  -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

it’s no surprise to you that the newsroom is quiet. while your peers are off to gather more information, you’re with lee chaeyeon of news as she tries to meet the deadline for her article’s first close.

“do you think dokyeom will be late?” you ask as you watch her rephrase sentences.

she laughs. “when is he never? minho’s always assigning him coverages.”

“that’s true.” your eyes drift to the hallway. “i’m just hungry. he still owes me food, you know?”

“over another bet? or you saving his ass?”

“over helping him with an article,” you reveal, earning a shocked look from her. “for some odd reason, he needed another writer to help out with a live coverage, and all the sports writers and sports editor were busy handling the other events.”

“holy shit.” chaeyeon continues with her work. “i didn’t expect you to work on anything sports-related.”

“yeah, but it helped that it was a dance competition. at least i know something about dance.” you only know who to thank. “i’m going to make sure i get compensated for that. i’m planning to raise it to minho and namjoon, anyway. that’s if dokyeom would fucking come and help in explaining the situation.”

with the mention of the tardy writer’s name, he’s scrambling through the halls with his backpack in one hand and a paper bag in the other. the moment he sees you, he shoots you an apologetic smile.

“speak of the devil,” you say as you stand up straight. “why do you always show up late? i helped you with the article.”

dokyeom finds his spot beside you as he sets down the bag on your desk. “i’ll have you know that wasn’t the only article i had yesterday. i was catching up on other ones that minho assigned me.” before he can plop down on his seat, he spots chaeyeon working. “damn, tough life at news.”

“no need to point out the obvious, doofus.”

“wow, harsh,” he replies to her insult. “just so you know, i bought food for us.”

“thank god,” you exclaim as you open the paper bag filled with takeout containers and sealed cups. as you pull them out one by one, you spot your usual order from the vietnamese restaurant around the corner. “oh my god, thank you for getting me this.” you take a seat before you pass dokyeom his food and utensils.

“yeah, i know. i’m just the best.” his shower of compliments for himself only has you rolling your eyes. “but thank you, by the way, for helping me out with the article. i needed an extra pair of hands and my own editor couldn’t stand in to help out.”

“it’s fine. just make sure you help me get compensated for that article,” you say before you open the container. as the smell of bun bo nam bo fills your nose, you can’t help but let out a quiet moan. “holy fuck, i’ve been craving this.”

“i made sure to get you some vietnamese coffee also.”

“yeah, i saw. thank you.” you split the chopsticks with one hand. you’re about to mix the bowl of your favorite food—

“is y/n here?” your editor calls out, causing you to let out a sigh before you stand up from your seat.

“yes?”

namjoon’s gaze lands on you. “can i talk to you for a bit?”

despite your grumbling stomach, you give him a nod and set your food down. as he retreats to his office, you glare at dokyeom who munches away on goi cuon. “i hate you.”

“hey, what did i do?!” you ignore his attempts to defend himself as you make your way to your editor’s office.

once you swing the door open, you spot namjoon whose eyes are stuck to the screen. “you can take a seat,” he says with no attempt to look at you. you sit across from him, hands folded on your lap, while he types away on his keyboard.

the moment he hits the ‘enter’ key is when he finally looks at you. “sorry about that. i was just replying to minho regarding your compensation for the article you worked with dokyeom. we both appreciate what you did. next time though, make sure to loop in minho or me before you two start working on beats not within your staffs.”

“sorry about that,” you start off. “dokyeom only asked for my help and i thought it would be fine since i’m familiar with dance, anyway.”

namjoon shakes his head with a small smile plastered on his face. “it is fine, just make sure to inform us.” you only nod.

“anyway, i’m sorry to have this meeting with you right now but i have to leave work early today, and i thought that you’d appreciate that i tell this to you now instead of tomorrow,” he says. you hum, curious about what he has to say. “i have a coverage for you, a very, very, long one.”

over the sight of your wide eyes, he can’t help but chuckle. “it’s 12 articles,” he says and your mouth gapes over the number. “well, one main article and 11 profiles with very brief introductory paragraphs.” his attempt to ease your shocked state does nothing.

“namjoon, that’s… a lot.”

“yes, i know. i would love to split the workload but everyone else is handling other articles, and i trust you. i know i’m asking for a lot but i’ll make sure to help you out with them. it’s just that we’re working on a time crunch and i don’t know anyone else i can ask but you.”

the faith that your editor seems to have in you is like no other.

“profiles, like, those q&a transcripts?” you ask.

he nods before saying, “yes, and just a brief introductory paragraph for each profile. i’m just expecting you to put more work into the article about the group. i’ll make sure to help out with the profiles.”

namjoon’s trust should be anxiety inducing, enough to send you complaining, but you find yourself relieved. your mentor became your second-in-command; the mountain of workload transformed into a hill.

“okay.”

a relaxed smile appears on his face at your acceptance. “thank god! i was going to stress about this the whole day if you refused. i’ll make sure to send you the details about this once i’m done with my appointments, and then we can see how we’ll divide the work later on.” he types something. “we’re covering a k-pop group which is why there’s one main article about the whole group and then 11 profiles.”

“yeah, i figured that out.” this isn’t anything out of your usual articles. “can i ask who we’re interviewing? maybe i can do some research on them while you attend your meetings.” you pull out your phone, ready to search up whoever your editor says.

“don’t know if you’re familiar with them but they’re called the boyz?” you still in your seat. “wait, let me check. yes, that’s their name.”

“the boyz?”

namjoon looks at you, now met with your features that have transformed from wide eyes to scrunched eyebrows.  “yeah. do you know them?” 

you shake your head without a second thought. “no, i don’t think i do,” you whisper the last sentence to yourself. his narrow eyes look over you, almost dissecting you.

the walls surrounding you are painted in solid colors of pearl, almost untouched. yet, under the paint are cracks that spread like cobwebs. every burst is a testament to the earthquakes they’ve faced; no one should be able to see a single line of black amid the white sea. now, they’re filled with paste, and it should be enough to cover them all.

but for the first time, the paint has chipped and the paste has deteriorated; the different colors of cheongju seep through the cracks.

you clear your throat as you straighten your back. “i’ll be sure to research them.” you wave your phone at him, hoping to divert his attention, but his gaze remains on you.

a sigh leaves him. “okay. expect to receive the documents later in the afternoon.”

he doesn’t push any further. for now, the walls remain intact. (or appear as so.)

it was never going to be easy.

“honestly, i gave up expecting to win as we practiced,” the youngest says through tears. as they huddle, they let out silent wishes for the upcoming years. before they blow the candle, they don’t forget to express their gratitude to the fandom who stuck with them through thick and thin.

a time of celebration turned into a moment to remember their struggles. these were pockets of their time that marked their spot in history.

“oh, everyone behind us is crying!” another member points out as the camera captures the team’s bittersweet cries.

and when you catch sight of the orange-haired boy who hides his tears behind his friend, the ache in your chest starts to spread through your veins. the video cuts to his low-hanging head as his members comfort him. they knew all of his hardships—you only know a fraction.

such a tender moment happened five years ago; it’s the same amount of time between this achievement and your departure. within those years, what did changmin undergo? did his trainings waver his passion or did the fire burn just as bright as it did since he first auditioned? was he confident in his skills or was he still critical about every performance he had?

but most of all, what did he face? what did he learn? to hate? to love?

what did he go through without you?

you don’t forget to take note of their first win on your document filled with bullet points of information. while you were going to continue watching, a recommended video caught your attention. it’s a changmin focus. you don’t hesitate to click it.

the video starts off with him checking up on the fans before the performance starts. as he mimes out eating, they answer his question with reassurance.

and there they come—his dimples appear.

it transitions to their group in their opening formation. as they await for the song to play out, changmin’s familiar smile shifts into a dominant gaze.

in the same way the first notes draw people to listen, your eyes never leave the boy. his movements are fluid, like water droplets sliding off leaves. he commands the stage regardless of where he’s positioned.

changmin is meant to be on the stage—no, every stage is made for him. every crowd is meant to cheer his name and remain captive to his talents, and every spotlight is meant to shine on him.

you rest your chin on crossed arms. long gone was the bowl cut and loose school uniform. he’s grown. matured, even. yet, the moments where his smile appears makes you realize one thing: the 16-year-old boy you knew still lives within him.

as their performance comes to an end, you don’t bother to move your cursor, letting the next recommended video play. and when his vlog plays out, you realize that a fragment of his identity is a whole of what you know.

what an honor it is to have known him for even a fraction of your lifetime.

his voice is a lullaby, the same one you used to fall asleep to, so you allow yourself to close your eyes. you let go of the responsibilities for just this moment, and allow yourself to be transported back into the warmth of his arms.

fall of 2014

out of all the seasons, autumn took its spot in being your favorite. clusters of green slowly morph  into shades of oranges and browns. it’s a symphony of chirps that fills the silence. while the breeze brings you comfort after the heat of summer, it also reminds you of the looming winter.

it’s a shame that autumn does live up to its other name: a season of fall.

“you’re always like this,” your mother comments. you stand in front of your parents, slumped shoulders and downcast eyes, as they hold a sheet of paper they believe dictates your future. “always so sensitive. we’re just asking you what went different. why did your grades drop?” to them, a shift from a to b+ is a threat to your future. 

while your feet stand on wooden floors, a flood starts to form. murky waves crash against your legs, but you do your best to keep your balance.

“answer us when you’re being talked to.” your father snaps you out of your thoughts. “what have you been doing for your grades to drop?” you want to answer but a single sound that leaves you may only lead to blubbers that your parents will scold you for. 

with your silence, your mother sneers. “i knew we shouldn’t have let you do your own things. i told you so.” she shifts her gaze to him. “what did i tell you about y/n? you know they’ll only slack off!”

“i thought we could trust them. clearly, i was wrong.” your father’s glare raises the water levels, reaching your chest. you don’t know how to swim in the foggy ocean.

“i know why.” she crosses her arms. “it’s because of that changmin boy, isn’t it?” she says his name laced with disgust.

you don’t think twice to defend him. “no, it isn’t!”

“don’t you dare talk back at me!”

“but i’m not! he’s done nothing.”

your father begins to raise his voice. “and that’s what’s wrong! that lazy boy does nothing for his studies. he clearly doesn’t care about his future.”

you always knew it would be a losing battle, but you’ll put up the fight to protect your best friend’s name. “that’s not true! he does care. he’s planning to do early childhood education for college, maybe become a teacher.”

“that job has no money. see, i can already see that you’re being influenced by him,” he argues back.

and as the murky waters rise, filling your lungs, your first instinct is to close your eyes and scream. “stop saying that about him!”

a beat passes.

“i don’t want you hanging out with him.”

“but—”

“shut up.” your mother’s words cause you to look up, meeting your parents’ faces filled with anger.  “go to your room. now.” you’re nothing but a puppet for them.

was it even a battle if you always knew you were going to lose?

despite the safety of your room, you don’t let the tears flow down. you do anything to distract yourself; maybe a book will convince you that your life is only a figment of your imagination.

waves continue to crash against your body. if you let them take your body, would they send you far away from cheongju? from your parents? from the weight you were entrusted to carry since birth?

but would you allow the waves to send you away from changmin?

your phone buzzes against the mattress. with tear-filled eyes, you see your best friend trying to reach you. you don’t think twice about declining his call and shutting off your phone.

as you curl in your bed, you hope the sea will swallow you whole—the slow, burning pain that comes with drowning won’t compare to the burns that haven’t healed. but you know that the blame rests on your shoulders. if only you had studied harder, cut off hours of rest for your work, then maybe you would be the perfect child your parents wanted.

were you wrong for allowing yourself to enjoy the small breaks between classes? was the time spent in the mart supposed to be for schoolwork? should you have found yourself a tutor? were you in the wrong for not working yourself to the bone? did you not work enough?

are you not enough?

then, a knock. your eyes snap open. like a stroke of light in the middle of the dark, changmin is by your window.

you get off your bed to open the window. as the glass barrier disappears, he enters your room. “are you okay?” he spots your glassy eyes and his hands find their spot on your shoulders. “what happened?”

you break eye contact. “what do you want, changmin?”

“you didn’t pick up your phone. and when i tried calling again, i couldn’t reach you,” he starts to explain.

you shrug off his grip on you before you take a seat on your bed. “i’m fine. my phone died.” as you feel the spot beside you dip, you look at your best friend. at the sight of his furrowed eyebrows, you know he doesn’t believe you. “i said i’m fine.”

“i didn’t say anything.” for you are an open book to him.

he opens his arms towards you—it’s your move to make. then, a tight-lipped smile shows on his face, his dimples appear, and you allow yourself to fall. with his arms wrapped around you, you shut your eyes as you nestle your face into his neck.

breathe in. breathe out.

his hand finds its spot on your back, rubbing it in circles.

breathe in. breathe out.

“it’s okay, i’m here,” he says, and you allow yourself to crumble in front of him for the first time.

the tears hit changmin’s neck like a light drizzle. your wails bring earthquakes into his world.

yet, his warmth is enough to dry up droplets, and his embrace protects you as you fall into the cracks of the earth and into the depths of the world. the flood starts to subside.

in your time knowing changmin, how much did he know about you after all? had he always known of your strained relationship with your parents? did he hear about it from others or was he able to connect the dots?

because you didn’t know yourself outside of your parents anymore. did you like science because of your kumon classes? was your interest in writing birthed from a desire for validation from your parents?

are you nothing but an array of achievements and failures?

but your parents will never be satisfied; a standard too high is practically nonexistent.

changmin moves so that you two can lie down. his arms remain wrapped around you as you hide in his neck. “i’m sorry if i wasn’t there for you when you needed it then.” his whispered apology causes you to shake your head.

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” you blubber out to his neck.

“and you didn’t, as well.” his hand finds its spot behind your head. with every stroke, a tear streams down. “and i want you to know that i’ll be here for you.”

in your house, your room was the only space you called home. solace built by you. 

now, your home is changmin.

present -> two weeks before the interview, 2024

something about the newsroom feels odd to you. there’s nothing out of the ordinary aside from it bustling with journalists. the familiar sounds of printers and chatter from your workmates fill your ears. it’s a typical occurrence for your peers to meet their deadlines on the day itself. the tug in your gut doesn’t resemble ones formed out of your anxiety. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“where is dokyeom? i swear, this guy never shows up to the office.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking over at chaeyeon who browses through her phone. as you shove a bill into the vending machine, a chuckle leaves you. “when is he never?”

“maybe if he finishes his coverages on time then he’d be getting enough sleep. then, he won’t be late.”

you side-eye your friend before you click on a button. “you know that’s not true.”

she sighs at the same time your bottle of iced tea drops. “yeah. apparently, if you have free time, you’re not a good journalist or some shit which i find stupid.” you grab your drink before facing her. “am i not allowed to do something else that’s not related to my job? i swear, this is why i’m single.”

“then date another journalist.” your joke earns a scowl from her.

“i’m never dating anyone in my field. a journalist dating another journalist is like,” she looks up to the ceiling as she thinks, “a long distance relationship with how much they’ll never see or have time for each other.”

a laugh erupts from you, one that may be too loud for your liking. “true.”

as you walk out of the breakroom with chaeyeon, you notice something in the corner of your eye: a brunette by the restroom. while you can’t see his face, you spot what’s in his hand and you halt in your tracks—a finger trap.

“hey, is there someone there?” your eyes snap back to your friend who looks at you in confusion. when your eyes drift back to where the brunette once was, he’s already gone. you shake your head before walking back to your desk.

the same gut feeling lingers. with a frown, you open up your article only to be met with a few comments that namjoon left last night. maybe your gut knew that you weren’t done with your work. thankfully, it’s nothing too major, and you can have them done within the next few minutes.

“there you are!” chaeyeon exclaims, causing you to look up from your screen to a panting dokyeom. “were you working on your articles again?”

“actually, i went out last night.” while you shake your head at dokyeom’s reveal, chaeyeon gasps. “yeah, i did! i actually had fun for once!”

as he nods proudly at last night’s events, she complains, “are you serious?! how come you have time to go out? i was just talking to y/n that we never have time to ourselves.”

“i’m in sports,” he points out as he shrugs his shoulders. “you’re in news.” at this point, you’re expecting the two to spiral into an argument, so you redirect your focus back to your article.

“hey, did you hear though? there’s a k-pop group in the building.” you glance at chaeyeon.

your other friend leans on the cubicle. “really? who?”

“no clue.”

dokyeom lets out a groan. “what type of journalist are you if you can’t find out?”

“yah!” chaeyeon smacks his arm, causing him to wince in pain. “says you who can never submit on time.”

“hey, i’ll have you know that minho has been understanding!”

“whatever.” she rolls her eyes before looking at you. “that means you’ll probably be handling them. i hope they’re cute so that you can finally have something going on with your life outside of work.”

a chuckle leaves you as you get back to work. “i’m never dating an idol. i’d get hunted down by their fans.” 

“yeah, but can’t you dream a little? do you ever imagine what it would be like?”

the past plays in your mind. after school performances and interviews. broken-up popsicles. finger traps. a life you shared with changmin then—one you still cling onto.

yet, you shake your head as you edit your article. “not even.”

it’s a life you’ll keep to yourself.

“what’s the update?”

the three of you look away from each other, spotting namjoon who comes to you with a smile. long gone were the sweaters that failed to drown out his figure and the boxy glasses that would rest on the bridge of his nose. now, he wears a dress shirt and trousers with hair slicked to the side. there were no frames for him to hide behind.

“ah, namjoon! you’re dressed so nice today.”

with dokyeom’s compliment, he can’t hold back on his smile. “thank you. are you guys done with your articles?”

as your friends nod, you add the finishing touches to the document. “and done! i just finished addressing your comments.”

“great. thanks, y/n.”

“do you have something?” chaeyeon asks your editor, causing you to roll your eyes. one thing about journalists is that they love to know everything.

namjoon nods before saying, “i just had a meeting with some possible interviewees.”

“is this the one with the k-pop group?” as dokyeom asks the question, you can’t help but laugh as chaeyeon looks at him in disbelief for spilling confidential information.

your editor chuckles. “yes.”

“can we know—”

“no, you can’t know.”

chaeyeon pouts at namjoon. “not even a hint?”

namjoon ignores her question and begins to walk off. “good work, y/n!” he calls out before leaving you three alone.

“man, namjoon never tells us shit,” chaeyeon complains as she leans on the table.

“to you guys, at least,” you argue with a small shrug.

still, the gut feeling remains.

something about the newsroom feels odd to changmin. while he’s had his fair share of paranormal experiences, his gut tells him that there’s something in the office. yet, the tug isn’t one that speaks of danger. why does it feel like one of destiny?

“should we have a short break before we discuss the schedules for the photoshoots and interviews?” changmin is snapped out of his thoughts by namjoon’s suggestion.

his manager looks at the group. “do you guys need a break?”

sangyeon shoots namjoon a smile before looking at his members. “you guys can use the washroom if you need to.”

although everyone seemed fine with proceeding, changmin couldn’t shake off the feeling. maybe the leftover curry he had this morning went bad. “i’ll go,” he says as he gets off his seat.

namjoon slowly stands up. “okay, i can bring you there—”

“it’s okay! i saw the washroom on the way here,” changmin says before walking to the door. “you can discuss the details without me. i’m sure you guys will manage.”

with sangyeon’s and his manager’s nods, namjoon settles back into his seat. “okay then, here are some of the dates i have in mind...”

changmin exits the room. he bites on the inside of the cheek as he thinks of what his gut could be telling him. is it the nerves for the upcoming tour? is he worried about the next comeback they’ve been preparing? or is he scared about what the future has in store for his group?

with his mind on these questions, he doesn’t realize that he arrives in front of the bathroom door. a sigh of frustration leaves him. the worst thing about gut feelings is never knowing what they’re trying to say.

he grips the handle, ready to swing the door open, until a familiar laugh hits his ears. one of the past. one he hasn’t heard in years. his muscles freeze.

when was the last time he heard that chortle? when was the last time he became the cause of it?

his eyes dart around the area for the source but no one else is here. he can’t help but shake his head in disbelief.

it should be stupid for him to think you two would ever reunite. in what world would you be in the same place as he is? it’s been 10 years. you could be anywhere around the world. yet, he fishes for something out of his pocket; the same finger trap he linked you to him rests on the palm of his hand.

he sighs before entering the washroom and shoving it back into his pocket.

maybe he’ll hold out a little longer.

winter of 2014

out of all the seasons, changmin’s favorite is winter. snowflakes fall, filling the sky with stars that people can touch, and snow piles on sidewalks, letting him throw snowballs at his friends. despite the freezing temperatures, changmin prefers this over nearly-boiling ones.

he can’t wait to share this season with you.

yet, the familiar, chilly breeze of the season transforms into whispers, and word gets around like thrown snowballs. 

“is y/n really not going to school anymore?” changmin looks up from his desk to see cheng xiao standing in front of him. he tilts his head in confusion, causing her to roll her eyes. “are they not going here anymore?”

he frowns. “huh? what kind of rumor is that?”

“i don’t know. it’s what people have been saying,” she says as she crosses her arms. “i asked because i wanted to know if my competition’s gone, you know? and you’re the only one here who has an idea about their whereabouts.”

changmin laughs in disbelief. “no, i was with them last week.”

when changmin last saw you, you asked for space. with what’s been happening with your family, you needed time to process and cope with your issues, and he respected that. after all, he only knew a fraction of your relationship with your parents, and he didn’t want to intrude in anything you didn’t want him to be a part of. still, changmin reminded you that he’ll be there if you need him.

“damn, that sucks,” cheng xiao groans as her shoulders slump. “these stupid rumors.” as soon as she leaves changmin alone, he shakes his head.

the bell rings. students start rushing into classrooms and teachers scold those who aren’t on their seats. ms. jeon enters the room, walking to the desk in front and setting her things down. “cheng xiao, you’ll be in charge of attendance today.”

as changmin’s classmate gets off her seat, he can’t help but look at your desk that still remains empty.

“you have to message us when you land,” your mother says as she fixes the collar of your coat. despite your nod, she clicks her tongue. “answer me properly.”

“yes, i will.”

once your father finishes placing the last luggage in the trunk of the taxi, he stands beside your mother. “don’t forget why we’re sending you there. we expect you to do better with no distractions.”

your phone buzzes in your hand. as you look down, you see a message from changmin. as he asks about your whereabouts, the weight gets heavier—will you stand or crumble under it?

“who’s that?”

you stash your phone away as you look back at your parents. “nothing. it’s just an email from the school. they sent over the date for the orientation.” at the sight of their satisfied smile, you let out a small sigh of relief.

“well, go on.” your nod at your mother before getting in the car. with the windows still down, she adds, “don’t forget to get endorsement letters from the professors i sent over to you or else you won’t get to study abroad like we planned.” her choice of pronouns is funny; a plan that they crafted which never considered your input.

“okay.”

as your father commands the driver to go, your gaze remains on the two. it should be okay with you to leave cheongju; you’d be far away from your parents and experience an entirely different landscape to explore. it’s time you break away from the chains of this town. learn a life outside of what your parents forced you into.

yet, as the car takes its leave, the figure of your parents slowly shrinks. the distance from them should’ve given you the space to breathe, a relief you’ve longed for, but it only reminds you of your strained relationship. to them, it would be better that you’re out of their sight—and with your farewell, you never heard the three-word phrase.

the window rolls up. you try to hold back the tears, but the scenery of cheongju that you pass by births a storm within you. you didn’t want to say goodbye to home, regardless of how much you say you didn’t have a home in this town. every corner holds a piece of you in the same way you hold a piece of them.

the car approaches a safe haven you share. despite the snow that piles at the front, mr. kim’s convenience store is still open. you’ll never get to have his hotteok again or hear his favorite dramas play in the background. worst of all, you never got to say goodbye.

then, the familiar figure of your best friend exits the mart, and the storm transforms into a typhoon. the plastic bag he holds is filled with your favorite snacks, from the grape-flavored twin bar to a bottle of mr. kim’s homemade peach iced tea.

and in that moment that your car passes him, he pulls out his phone from his pocket, and you spot the familiar trap wrapped around his finger—the other end holds no one.

as quickly as you came into changmin’s life, he disappears from your view.

finger traps were fascinating. if you tug hard, the contraption won’t let your fingers go. yet, if you allow the two fingers to meet, allowing the toy to loosen, it’ll let you go with no harm.

but your finger trap with changmin was different. maybe it was already ripped to its seams.

interview

q: what made you decide on becoming an idol?

a: i’ve always loved dancing. growing up in cheongju, i always made time [for dance] whether it be [for] school competitions, talent shows, or even [choreographies] i wanted to try out. but i never considered becoming [an idol] until high school. a lot of my friends and family thought i was capable, and i’m glad they trusted me. it feels good to give back to them with every performance.

q: as the first trainee meant to debut in the boyz, you’ve spent more time training compared to your other members. what kept you going throughout your years of training?

a: my family’s support was one big thing that helped me [during my training.] every trip from my house to the company would last hours, and it drained me physically. so as the years went by, i started to question if all the time, money, [and] effort i was putting into an unpromised debut would be worth it, but my parents and sisters were always there to support and [take] care of me. but i’d also like to think my best friend was a major support in training years. i think they were the first one to [tell me that they saw me as an idol,] and at the time i brushed off the idea. but, look where i am now? so i think i owe a lot to them.

q: is there anything you’d like to say to those who’ve supported you as the boyz’s q?

a: mom and dad, thank you for believing in me. i know it wasn’t easy to wait until midnight for me to come home or take care of me whenever i got sick from training. thank you for always supporting me in every performance. to my sisters, thank you for helping mom and dad out at home. every day, i remind myself that you gave up so much just so i can pursue my dreams, and i want you know that i’m forever grateful for your sacrifices. to the rest of [the boyz], thank you for always allowing me to rely on you. i’m glad i can say i have brothers who i get to achieve my dreams with. deobi, thank you for your love and support over the years. i wouldn’t be the boyz’s q or ji changmin if it weren’t for you. and lastly, thank you to my best friend. i hope you’ll always be proud of me the same way i’ll forever be proud of you.

tag list: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @blankjournal @winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs @dearly-somber

[mf-despair-queen]

Never Give Up - Lee Taeyong

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Pairing: Lee Taeyong/Reader

Word Count: 20,984

Summary: When Y/N joins SM Entertainment as a trainee, she didn’t think she would make it. Nor did she think Lee Taeyong from NCT would be assisting in training her class. But most of all, she didn’t think that he would step up to help her achieve her dream. 

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Unprotected Sex, Oral, Shower Stuff, kinda sweet stuff all around because Taeyong is just a caring baby?

Notes: Only like... 3 months in the making. But I hold this fic very close to my heart because Taeyong’s story of becoming an idol is very precious to me. And just as an overall person, he’s very inspiring to me. I wanted to represent that side of him, not giving up when you have a dream and a goal, to be the best you can be and not let anything bring you down. 

Happy chatter filled the room, the voices echoing off the walls and mirrors located all around. Each small group stretched together, joyously preparing for the first day as a trainee. Some showed off their moves at each other while others just kept a pleasant conversation to pass the time.

And here you were, sat alone in the corner. Our fingers tapped anxiously while reaching for your foot extended in front of you, feeling the muscles in your back stretching out and loosening. Sweat was leaking from your pores, keeping your skin moist and uncomfortable despite the lack of dancing you had actually done. 

When the door opened, everyone instantly stood at attention, including yourself whom scrambled up to stand at attention. Lines had formed, each trainee stood one by one as the instructor waltzed in, eyes glowering slightly as he scanned the crowd.

“Good morning, sir,” the trainee group said in unison with a bow, the teacher nodding in approval.

“Good morning,” he said, voice slightly gruff and deep, throwing you off for a moment. The instructor placed his stuff aside - a notebook and pen combo, water bottle, and towel - before turning to face everyone. “My name is Kim Jihun and I will be your dancer teacher. And may I start by saying congratulations on being admitted to be a trainee of SM Entertainment.”

The girls around you clapped happily, smiles on their faces. Your hands were slow to come together, your nerves on edge. His words seemed to haunt you, sending a shiver up your spine. You were questioning why you even showed up to the audition in the first place. You weren’t expecting to get through when they approached you on the street, telling you that they were looking for potential recruits. 

You weren’t anything special in your mind. Sure, you loved to dance and sing in your free time, but compared to the people around you, you were miniscule. You wanted nothing more than to shrink into the background and disappear, running from the room and never returning.

“Let me warn you that this will not be an easy course,” his words filled the room, making you snap back to attention. Jihun walked back and forth in front of the group, speaking slowly and intently. “SM Entertainment has very high standards for its artists and you are expected to work hard to achieve that. Fail, and you be let go. Succeed, and you will be trained until you are ready to debut.”

You swallowed thickly, eyes falling to the ground before you. You toe dug into the shiny hardwood floor, afraid to look up. You knew that the look in the mirror would show just how stressed you were while everyone else looked determined to do well. Your hands rung around the bottom of your shirt, wrinkling the loose material in the tight grip. Your fingers twisted around the material, disappearing into the white fabric.

“But, don’t let that discourage you. Everyone here is at a different level, but you can’t let your inexperience stop you. I’ve had trainees in the past that have come in and I thought they would amount to nothing. I figured they would not make it to be an idol. But I was wrong. Through hard work and determination, he was able to overcome those challenges and become the leader dancer of her group. He is the epitome of the term “never give up on your dreams” and I want you all to remember that.

“I want you to remember that because he will be training you as well for the next few months. His group is on hiatus for the time being after having finished their recent promotions and he expressed an interest in helping train for once. So, don’t think he needs any further introduction. Please welcome Lee Taeyong from NCT.”

Your heart stopped when you watched him open the door carefully, a nervous smile on his gorgeous face. It made his soft cheeks uplift, contrasting against his sharp jaw. He uttered over a dozen hellos as he entered, bowing continuously in his normal polite manner, hands clasped together in front of him with every bend of his back and step of his feet. Each bow made his bright blue hair bounce around, falling to rest against his forehead when he stood straight. His brown eyes twinkled in the lights of the practice room, the glimmer they shone making your heart race. His large hands rubbed together as he took his place next to your instructor, trailing his eyes over the crowd. It felt like his eyes lingered longer on you, his smile curling further. The male idol was wearing a simple pair of black skinny jeans and a loose white shirt that said “Rare”, black shoes adorning his feet.

You let out a shaky breath, unable to believe that Lee Taeyong was standing in front of you. You had watched the man grow and succeed since his days as an SM Rookie, He was one of the reasons you enjoyed dance as much as you did. Seeing the way he moved, the joy it brought - you couldn’t help but move yourself. You aspired to be as good as him, sadly accepting that you never would be. He was a god among men, and you could only wish that you could be on his level one day.

Now, he stood before you in the flesh, ready to help you learn and improve. If you weren’t nervous before, you would be now. Too bad you were already sweating bullets before he walked in. Your face felt hot and you were ready to pass out. From across the room, you could feel his presence. HIs aura was intimidating, even though the face he gave the crowd was soft and he bounced between his feet anxiously. His hands rung together, picking at his nails slightly, but he stood proud. 

“Hello,” he greeted officially. Your heart thundered heavily at the sound of his sultry voice. It was deep and smooth, a husky undertone that you were familiar with from his fabulous rapping skills. His infectious smile made you crack a small one of your own, feeling your cheeks light up with a bright burn. 

“My name is Lee Taeyong, leader of NCT. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He finished his greeting with a bow, you and the others following his gesture. When he stood up, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead while speaking. “I’m really looking forward to helping train you guys for a while. I remember my days as a trainee and how nerve wracking it can be, so I hope that I can help you guys grow and improve like I was able to.”

“I will leave this to you, Taeyong,” Jihun told the idol leader, who nodded in return. Jihun took a seat in a chair to the side, his notepad and pen in hand. His dark eyes stared daggers through the room, ready to assess your first day.

Taeyong made his way to the front of the room, everyone turning to face the mirrors and rearranging themselves to a more comfortable location to begin the lesson. You slid to the back of the group, hiding yourself from the mirror as much as possible in the small group of people. Taeyong slid a black headband on his head to keep his hair back, turning to stare at himself - and your group behind him - in the mirrors.

“Alright. We’ll begin by teaching you the moves to this choreography that I helped to create. It was something I dabbled in when we did the song So Am I with Ava Max, so I hope you all like it. We will start off slow and practice each section a few times, but it’ll be pretty quick to learn the entire piece. By the end of today, I want to test run this dance with the music.”

You dry swallowed, shaking slightly. It was time…

He wasn’t kidding when he said the learning curve was steep. The speed that you were intended to learn the choreography was fast paced, even with Taeyong’s slow and methodical teaching style. He showed each step multiple times, explaining thoroughly what he was doing and how your body should be moving with the movement. He allowed ample time for you to practice the movements before moving onto the next move, He would even sing his own rap part when he picked up the pace to show the entire section as it should be performed, your eyes wide in awe. Taeyong made the dance look simple. 

The steps themselves weren’t hard in reality, but you couldn’t help but wonder if you were doing it right. As pieces started to get linked together, more of the choreography coming together, you couldn’t help yourself from turning your eyes to those around you, trying to pick up on how they moved, imitating their postures and strides. The more parts that got added amplified the difficulty, aiding in your downfall, your progress slowing, stopping and receding. 

You were struggling to follow the full dance, resorting to following those around you in an attempt to complete the dance. You felt weak compared to them, lacking power and precision, your steps sloppy and uncoordinated. You were off beat, arms swinging slowly, body rolling with less exuberance than the other trainees. You were crying internally from the difficulty and underwhelming results.

Taeyong stopped everyone for a water break, readying the music. “One last run before we end for today. I know it’s been rough for the first day, but this dance course is no easy feat. We will do one run of the choreo with the music then you guys are free to head to your vocal class.”

A resounding grunt of acceptance was heard, but all you could do was puff out a sigh. You prayed that you could mimic those around you enough to get through the dance, all while hoping Taeyong’s eyes didn’t find you in the back of the crowd. When the music started, you struggled, just as you thought you would. Your eyes followed everyone else, a beat behind just like during the practice runs. You struggled your way through the dance, wishing with each passing second that it would be over. 

Taeyong’s dutiful eyes, a deep, chocolate color, scanned the crowd unknowing to the trainees as he danced, taking in every incorrect step, bent leg during a kick, and lackluster sway of the hips. But, amongst all the trainees, he couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to you shielded in the back of the crowd. He pouted slightly to himself, fixated on the slow movements and turned head, pausing to get the steps of your colleagues.

His heart ached for you.

Taeyong uttered a thank you to the group once the song was over, everyone bowing before parting their ways to collect their belongings. Taeyong strode away to Jihun, the two muttering softly together, the dance instructor jotting things down as Taeyong talked. You let out a sigh, knowing that you had been caught red handed by the instructor. Soon, Taeyong would know as well. You were disheartened to know that you had failed your role model at his own choreography. Your feet, aching and sore, moved towards your bag, missing how Taeyong glanced your way, Jihun’s eyes following.

You collapsed to the ground, ignoring everyone around you grabbing their stuff and making their way to the door, the room growing quieter by the second. You pulled out your phone, frowning at the text you had received from your mother asking about how your first day went. She had always supported you, encouraging you to pursue this unrealistic dream - that was quickly transforming into a nightmare instead. You didn’t know how to tell her it didn’t go well. 

Yeah, the first day was horrible. That’s just what she’d want to hear.

“Excuse me,” you heard beside you. Your head whipped to the familiar, deeply pleasant voice of Lee Taeyong. The idol had removed his headband from his blue hair, allowing beads of sweat to drip along his facial features, running along his jawline. His dark eyes bore into your soul, his sweet smile making butterflies rage at you. “Sorry to disturb you. Your name is Y/N, correct?”

You blinked, unsure how he knew who you were. “Yeah…?” You placed your phone down, standing slowly. Your feet were yelling at you for doing so, but it didn’t feel right to sit while talking to him. You bowed at the young man, though he waved at you in dismissal. 

“No need for that. It’s fine,” he chuckled happily. “I just… want to talk to you really quick. If you have a moment.”

Your brow furrowed, opening your mouth to find no words escaping. Your throat felt dry, swallowing once before managing to get something said. “I mean… I have to get to my vocal training…”

“I will walk you there and explain the situation,” he offered. 

“A-alright,” you weakly muttered.

Taeyong gave a sad smile, licking his lips before speaking. “I just… I couldn’t help but notice you during the training.” Your heart plummeted. “You looked like you were really struggling.”

“I-I…” you started, fighting back tears. “I was, I guess…”

“No need to be sad!” he exclaimed quickly, biting at his lower lip. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“You wanted to talk to me because I suck horribly?” You uttered sarcastically, earning a chuckle from the man.

“Kind of, I guess,” he teased. You pouted. “I wanted to make you an offer actually.”

“Offer?”

“Yeah,” he cooed softly. His hand ran through his hair, cheeks puffing with a burst of air before continuing. “I wanted to see if you’d like some extra lessons. You know, with me?”

“What?” you asked without hesitation. Taeyong laughed, shaking his head. 

“I wanted to give you some extra dance lessons, just the two of us. That way we can focus on what you need more than the others. That way we can get you on a higher level than you are at now.”

You blinked at him, turning away slightly, avoiding his sharp gaze. “Why would you want to do that?” you whispered lowly.

“Because,” Taeyong spoke calmly. You turned to look back at him when he didn’t continue. His face was serious, but he smiled at you, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His foot kicked the wood floor aimlessly, digging the toe of his shoe into it. “I know what it’s like to be in your shoes. I know what it’s like to struggle and feel like you aren’t good enough. I know how it feels to think you aren’t cut out for this. 

“I was called a blank sheet when I was a trainee and I felt insulted. I felt like I was being told that I wasn’t good enough and I wouldn’t amount to anything. But I overcame that because I realized that as much of a blank sheet as I am, I could draw my own path on it. And I want you to be able to do the same. I was in the same boat as you once, standing at the back of the crowd, following everyone else. Now, I can stand on my own two feet. I want to help you do the same.”

You contemplated his words, never straying your eyes from him. Silence enveloped the room, apart from the steady breaths of the pair of you. Finally, you spoke up. “But why do you want to try so hard with me?”

Taeyong grinned, freeing a hand to ruffle his hair. “Because I can see the fire and desire in your eyes. This is what you love to do, and I want to make sure that you can enjoy every bit of it. I’m not going to give up on you because I want to see you overcome this and make it big one day.” He let out a heavy breath, licking his lips. “So, what do you say? You up for some extra dance practices?”

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded slowly. Taeyong’s face lit up, grinning widely. “Alright. I’d like the extra training if you’re willing to help. I… I don’t want to give up.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t let you,” he laughed. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, handing it to you. “Go ahead and put your number in. We can set up a secondary schedule around your vocal and dance practices. And we can use this room as our go to. Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” you told him, taking his phone and typing in the number. When you handed it back, contact name complete with a smiley face, your fingers brushed, making your skin tingle. Your cheeks lit up, backing away slightly to grab your stuff. “I appreciate the help, Taeyong. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Same here,” he grinned, leading you to the door after you gathered your belongings. “You’re going to do great, Y/N I just know it.”

~

“Ugh!” you huffed in exasperation. Killing the music on your phone, your hand a sweaty hand through your hair, pushing the loose strands away from your forehead in anger. You had stumbled again, much to your dismay. Despite the extra practice you were getting, and the additional coaching you had been gifted, you were still struggling, grasping everything too slow for your liking.

Training for Taeyong outside of the normal practice had been a blessing. You found yourself doing better, learning the dances more and more each time, but you still had difficulties during the classes themselves, finding yourself still following the others to move your feet and hands to the beat. You continued to stay to the back, even though Taeyong encouraged you to step forward more and show the skills he believed you had.

Speaking of Taeyong - you never realized just how caring the man was until you agreed to this ordeal. You found yourself getting daily text from him after having exchanged numbers to discuss your additional practice regimen, the older male never failing to give words of encouragement amongst his own busy schedule. The texts came without fail before every dance and vocal lesson that he wasn’t there for, using silly emojis, dancing gifs and memes he found online to keep your low spirits elevated as much as possible.

That was just one aspect of the sweet man. Once your private lessons began, you learned how patient he was with you. Seeing your struggles, he slowed down his own movements, taking more time to show you what to do and how to do it. He pointed out every detail you would need to know for the dance before stumbling over his own feet, ears turning red.

“I meant to do that,” he would claim, earning a laugh from you. Hear your laugh just made him smile.

Taeyong over the few weeks you had been a trainee, under his tender loving care as a mentor, became a close friend that you could confide in, no matter the time of day. During water breaks, you would find yourself talking about everything and nothing with the idol, both of you sharing every little fact you could with each other. At this point, it felt like Taeyong knew you better than you knew yourself, and vice versa. You learned many things about the humble young man, your heart thumping harder every day for him. Your adoration for him had grown the more you learned about him, every day getting better.

Until now.

Letting out a deep breath, you restarted the music, turning to face the mirror. As the beat began, your foot slid across the floor, toes pointed, and leg extended outward. Your arms raised, beginning to sway to the beat just as you had learned not even an hour before in your class. Your hips rounded, turning in circles to the thumping music. Your eyes closed to concentrate on what you were doing, counting the steps as you moved.

Your body stumbled when the chorus hit, feet tangling around each other when you went to take a step. You let out a loud grunt, feet stomping in annoyance. “Why can’t I get this right?” you exclaimed to no one in particular, venting the pent-up frustration you felt.

“You’re overthinking it.”

The words caught you off guard, your body whipping around to face the door, only stumbling to the side in the progress. Taeyong chuckled, pulling off the white hat he had on his head, placing the plastic bag in his hand against the wall. You pouted at his laughter, trudging over to pause the music. The idol ruffled his blue hair, taking a seat against the wall. Wordlessly, you joined at his side, taking the iced coffee he offered to you.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you scowled at him playfully. Taeyong smiled at your words.

“I’m not wrong though,” he stated firmly. “Also, sorry for startling you. That wasn’t my intention. And I’m sorry I was running late. I was finishing recording a new song.”

“I know. I got your text,” you teased. Taeyong made a sour face, sticking his tongue out. 

“And here I was nice and brought dinner because I was running late.”

“Depends what you brought,” you told him. Taeyong moved the bag in front of you, pulling out a platter of japchae, gimbap and mandu. You watched him eagerly open the japchae, snapping his chopsticks apart so he could take a mouthful of food. “How do you stay so skinny when you love food so much? Especially sweets. I’ve seen you eat nearly a dozen cupcakes before and you lost weight. I don’t get it.”

“Dancer metabolism,” he joked. 

“Don’t be mean,” you huffed, biting into a warm dumpling. “So, what did you mean?”

“Hm?” he hummed, tilting his head cutely. You shook off the adorable face, shoving his shoulder with yours instead. 

“You know,” you scolded. “When you walked in, you said that I was overthinking it. What did you mean?”

“Exactly what I said,” he pointed out. “You’ve gotten better, but I can see how you are still struggling. And I think you are trying too hard to do well at it now. Because you are so worried about doing well, worried about learning to choreography fast enough, and worried about not messing up, you’re pushing yourself too much. When you stress, you are bound to make more mistakes. When you worry, you’re more prone to mistakes. I would know. I did it a lot when I was a trainee.”

“Oh.”

Taeyong gave a small, lopsided smile. “Hey, it’s not a bad thing. It’s understandable and kind of to be expected. The stress that being a trainee for SM is insane sometimes and when you don’t believe you are doing enough, it hurts a bit.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m scared of the first evaluation next week.”

“Don’t be. Just do your best. That’s all you can do. Practice and do what you can. You can’t let yourself get down about this because you need to make your own path with this.”

“This coming from a blank slate?” you teased. 

Taeyong chuckled, nodding vigorously. “Absolutely. I was hard on myself all the time, YN,” he said, turning to look at you better. “I didn’t think I’d make it. But I never gave up because I love what I do. I love to dance. I love to rap. I love to sing. And even though I felt insulted, I turned that around. I decided that I would write my own story. And, I know you have that same drive.”

“How do you know?” you asked after a moment of hesitation, pulling your eyes away from the bowls in front of you to look into the dark eyes of the young man beside you. His lips upturned, showing his glistening white teeth.

“Because I can see how much you love to dance. I can see how much joy it brings. I can see the passion you have for it. And I want to see you succeed,” he told you. Learning back on his hands, Taeyong stared up at the ceiling for a moment. “Honestly, I can see how good you are too. Even though you take a bit to learn the moves, I can see how strong your movements really are. You follow others for the steps, but when you have them, you are the best at them. And, if you ask me, you stand out the most among the trainees.”

“Really?” you asked, shocked.

“Of course,” he chuckled. “If I’m being honest right now, you were the first one to draw my eye on day one. Not because you weren’t doing well. There is just something about you like I enjoy watching. And when you can get the dances, it’s even better. I can’t pull my eyes away because you have this… I guess you can call it beauty, to you that just makes me smile. I love watching you dance and enjoy yourself. And I can’t wait for others to see what I see.”

Your face burned with the blush that rose to your cheeks, curling your hands in your lap. “Thanks, Taeyong. That means a lot to me.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m only stating the truth,” he mused happily. Rising to his feet, his hand extended towards you. “Now, shall we get started so we can show the world one day what Y/N is capable of?”

“I guess,” you huffed, playfully reluctant. Your hand fit perfectly in his, allowing Taeyong to pull you to your feet. 

“No one overthinking your steps, right?”

“No guarantees.”

Taeyong pouted, moving over to your phone. He didn’t even have to ask, unlocking it with ease. “Fine. Be that way.” The music started, a smirk forming on his face as he leaned against the wall. “Show me what you got. Come on.”

Letting out a breath, you turned to start the dance, beginning strong. As the music progressed, your movements wavered, unsure if they were correct or not. Taeyong followed your form silently, not interrupting you as you went. You managed to complete the dance, not perfect by any means. The music trailed off, the final notes fading through the speakers. Your chest heaved with uneven breaths, turning to the idol for the judgement call.

“Not bad,” he called, taking slow steps forward. “Definitely better than you’ve done before. You’re getting a lot better, Y/N.”

“Are you sure?” you asked.

Taeyong chuckled, shaking his head. “Stop doubting yourself. You’re an amazing dancer, Y/N.”

“I guess…”

“You’re impossible,” he laughed. “Do me a favor. Show me beginning from verse two.”

With a confused look on your face, you did as he requested. Your foot and arm extended to the right, ready to bring your other arm around as you stepped. But Taeyong told you to stop, making your body freeze, tightening to hold the pose. He stepped closer to you, standing behind you. You could see him through the mirror, his gaze reflecting back on you.

“What are you doing?” you asked quietly.

Your already tense body from the stress and anxiety of training tightened more, your breathing shortening. His fingers danced their way up your arm, ghosting along your skin lightly, tickling you in the process, before taking your wrist in his hand, raising it slightly.

“Your stance is off,” he spoke lowly, words somewhat raspier than normal. “Your arm should be a bit higher here. And your leg should extend a bit more.” His foot nudged yours out, making you slide against the wood flooring. Luckily, his free hand was on your waist to keep you steady, his fingers pressed into bare skin from where your tank top had ridden up. 

You turned to look up at him, Taeyong glancing down at you. His hot breath could be felt against your skin, making you blush more. Slowly he dropped his hand, letting you hold the stiff position while he examined you. Slowly, he got you to start dancing again, following your movements on his own directly behind you. His movements were more fluid and cleaner than yours, but the entire time, Taeyong helped to guide you, never once hesitating in what he was doing. 

When you stopped, you turned to look at him, watching the young man silently run his fingers through the sky lit locks on his head, fluffing the strands inadvertently. “What are you thinking?” you voiced, watching him ponder. Taeyong tilted his head back and forth, cracking his neck as he did before speaking up.

“I think I know the issue.”

You snorted out a laugh. “Oh really? We’ve been are this for a few weeks now and you just now know what the issue is?”

“Yup,” he laughed, stepping behind you again. His hands found their place on your shoulders, turning you to the mirror. “You, my dear, are too tense.”

“Well, that’s a given,” you laughed. “I’m a bit stressed.”

“I don’t think it’s just that,” he said. “I think you are working too hard. I think you just need to relax a bit and just let go. Enjoy the music a bit more.”

“Enjoy the music?” you asked.

Taeyong nodded, moving over to connect his phone to the speaker. He flicked through his music playlist a bit before turning on some soothing, but fun, music, bouncing on the balls of his feet to the sound.

“Honestly, I find myself dancing the best when I can just relax and enjoy the music. I like to be able to feel the music and just move to it freely. It’s very calming and just helps me loosen up. But I think it helps me connect better to what I’m doing.” Taeyong started swaying to the music, beginning to freestyle to the song he put on. You watched in awe at his motions, the man smiling the entire time. “You should try it too, Y/N. Just freely dance and let yourself go to the music.”

“I don’t know…”

Taeyong huffed, not accepting your answer. His feet moved quickly, long strides drawing him closer to you. His hands took yours, pulling you closer to him, still within arm’s reach. “Come on. Just let yourself feel the music. Just have fun!”

He started swaying back and forth, your arms swinging with the motions. He made your body wiggle with his, neither of your actually dancing to the beat of the song. But, deep inside, it felt right just to do the silly dance with him, enjoying the music around you. There was not a care in the world for the next few minutes as your danced in crazy circles, arms waving in different directs, your body loosening up with the fun. 

Taeyong smiled down at you, tugging you closer until you were crashed against his body, hugging you closer. Your bodies moved from side to side in no real pattern, losing yourself to the soft music. 

“Ok, but, that worked,” you said, words muffled by his chest. It rose and fell with his laughter, making you giggle.

“I told you,” he teased. His arms never left your form, keeping you close to him. The music continued to play around you, smooth tunes filling the room that you natural moved to. “It’s calming. And it’s best to just feel the music inside you. When you can connect to it, you will be at your best. And your shoulders are significantly let tense. I can feel the knots you had before are almost gone already.”

“The power of music.”

“The power of dance.”

You glanced up at him, his gaze on you. His tongue poked out between his lips, licking them slowly. You followed the trail of the pink article tracing the plump, cupid shaped lips, biting at your own lip. The music seemed to get drowned out, everything disappearing around you.

“What’s going on in here?”

Your body separated quicker than lightning, pushing away from Taeyong instantly at the sound of the voice. You let out a low shriek, hand on your chest, stumbling into a wall to catch your breath. Taeyong just laughed, pausing his music.

When you glanced at the door, your eyes widened, seeing Lee Donghae and his wife in the doorway. You bowed at the senior idol, the male returning the gesture. Taeyong spoke up as he moved to your side.

“We were just dancing, hyung,” Taeyong told him. Donghae’s brow rose, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“Oh?”

“Ya!” Taeyong whined at the older idol. “We were! I’m helping her train! We weren’t doing anything besides dancing and enjoying the music! Right, Y/N?”

“Don’t drag me into this!” you yelled at Taeyong, learning a laugh from the two intruders. With another bow, you introduced yourself. “I’m sorry for being so disrespectful. My name is Y/N. I’m a trainee right now with SM.”

“Pleasure,” Donghae greeted. “I’m sure you know who I am. I’m Donghae from Super Junior. This is my wife, Nanda.”

“It’s great to meet you,” she hummed happily. 

“Likewise.”

“So, a trainee, eh?” Donghae laughed. You nodded at him. “You must be excited.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Taeyong snickered at your comment. 

“Well, I take it that something is going on if you guys are hiding out and dancing all by yourselves,” Donghae teased. Taeyong’s cheeks flushed, swatting at his senior. 

“Hyung, stop!” Taeyong whined some more. “I agreed to help with some dance lessons because…” Taeyong paused, glancing at you. “She kind of reminds me of myself. I understood what she was going through and I want to see her do well because she’s very talented. So, I offered to help her learn.”

Donghae smiled at Taeyong words, nodding in acceptance before glancing at you. “Well, you are in good hands. This boy can really dance. And if he sees something in you, then you must be something special.”

Taeyong blushed harder. “Hyung”

While the two men bickered like children, though the senior was near a decade older, the senior idol’s wife tugged you aside. “He’s right though. Taeyong is a very talented young man, so you are in great hands.”

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I’m kind of lucky that he offered like this. It really has been helpful with these extra sessions. I feel like I’m not quite there yet, but I’m better.”

“Well, don’t give up at all. And whatever he tells you, don’t neglect the advice. He is one of the best people to know exactly how it feels to be in your shoes. I’m sure you will be on top of your group before you know it.”

“You have a lot of faith in me,” you laughed. Nanda smiled.

“I just know that Taeyong wouldn’t try this hard with just anyone. He sees something special in you, so I will be looking forward to when you are on stage with the others doing your own dances and songs. Just keep pushing till then. Keep practicing, keep training, and keep your head up. You got this.”

“Thanks,” you told her. Lowering your voice, you leaned closer to the female. “Not to be rude or anything, but are those two related at all?”

Nanda laughed, shaking her head. “Why do you ask?”

“I just…” you paused, staring at the two men with a furrowed brow. “How can two guys be so incredibly attractive?”

Nanda snorted with a laugh. “I think it’s that Lee name. There is something in the Lee family name that gives them good genes, I swear. They are insanely good looking.”

“That’s some good genes then,” you laughed back, your laughs joining in unison. 

The two men, hearing your laughter, glancing in your direction. Donghae made his way over, Taeyong on his heel, the older male taking his wife’s hand. “We should probably head out. The little one needs some sleep,” he said, patting Nanda’s protruding stomach. “We just heard the music and thought we’d stop in for a sec. It was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N.”

“It was my pleasure, sunbae.”

The man smiled, shaking his head. “Just Donghae, please.” 

“Alright… Donghae,” you uttered softly, a small smile gracing your cheeks. The older idol grinned, patting your head gently. 

“Stay strong, Y/N. Remember not to give up on your dreams, and I’m sure we’ll see you with us before you know it. And if you guys ever need a hand, you know who to call.”

“Eunhyuk?” Taeyong sassily sneered, jabbing Donghae in the ribs with his elbow. The look on Donghae’s face made Taeyong snicker, hearing the disgruntled huff he let out.

“Low blow, Yong. Low blow,” he joked, tugging his wife towards the door. “Don’t stay too late guys. You need rest too.”

“We know,” you both responded, waving off the couple. “Night guys.”

“Night!”

The door closed with a subtle click that echoed through the silent studio, ringing loudly off the walls and mirror. Taeyong let out a sigh, ruffling his bright blue locks before turning towards you. “So, shall we get back to practice?”

“Yeah…” you hummed, eyes locked momentarily on the door. Taeyong’s brow rose, but he didn’t question your odd behavior.

“Do you want to continue the dance from practice?”

The words from the couple sent tingles up your spine, a pit of warmth filling inside you. Their eager encouragement fanned the flame that Taeyong lit on that first day of practice, the candle burning brighter than ever before. A surge of confidence overwhelmed you. Wringing your hands together, fingers twisting around the bottom hem of your shirt. Drawing a lip between your teeth and turning to face the man, your gaze met his, a confident glint in your irises. 

“Actually,” you spoke up. Taeyong’s grin grew with the conviction in your voice, the strength you were suddenly portraying making his heart race, blood pumping rapidly. His dark eyes narrowed on you, nodding his head as encouragement to continue. “Can we… can we try something different?”

“Like what?” He pushed.

“How about… one of our group’s choreographies?”

Taeyong brow rose, but he smiled nonetheless. “Are you sure? We don’t exactly have easy dances.”

‘I’m sure,” you replied without hesitation. “I want to get better, Taeyong. And the only way to do that is to keep trying. To try new things, harder things. I want to master all I can and prove to everyone, and myself, that I’m cut out for this.” Pausing, you stepped closer to him, tilting your head up to look at him. Your hands took his, his returning the hold with a soft squeeze. “I will make you proud by taking the blank page of my life and drawing my own path.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” His fingers laced with yours, tugging you towards the stereo. “Now, what song would you say you fancy?”

Tapping your chin, you smiled cheekily. “How about a nice duo song. How about… Baby Don’t Stop?”

Taeyong chuckled, placing his phone down, selecting the song. “Perfect choice, milady.”

~

The surge of confidence that transpired thanks to the idol couple was let loose like a storm. Inspiration struck, and your skills grew stronger with each passing day. Taeyong noted how you grew stronger, more powerful, every time you danced together, praising you for your hard work and accomplishments. Your steps no longer felt sloppy, your body no longer felt sluggish. Every dance practice was better than the last, with movements becoming easier and quicker to learn - and master. 

The overwhelming confidence showed more during the actual lessons. With each passing week, you made your way closer to the front of the pack, no longer hidden in the back row. You managed to lead the others instead of following their motions, setting the bar for those around you. Your dance instructor even praised you for how far you were coming, patting you on the shoulder one day after a hard dance that you almost perfectly nailed. 

You were on cloud nine. Your dreams were becoming a reality and no longer felt like they were unreachable. They were within your grasp, your desire for the end product at your fingertips.

Lessons with Taeyong didn’t cease, even with how far you had come. On the contrary, they morphed into sessions to hone your creativity and enhance your abilities. Instead of repeating the days lessons, you would craft dances on your own, either freestyling to whatever random song Taeyong chose or developing a choreography with Taeyong’s help to improve the layout of the steps and flow of the body. 

Some days, you were dancing by yourself, putting the steps to the test while Taeyong happily filmed it, the two of you collapsing against a wall and munching on some snacks while watching the playback. Ideas bounced between the two of you on how to improve the dance until you were content with the outcome. Taeyong would share the final video with his children - well, his members - and each time, they were impressed with what you had come up with.

Other days, you would dance with Taeyong, twisting and turning to the same beat as the man you admired for so long. The gentle caress of his fingers running along your waist from where your shirt rode up when your arms rose. The warm, tingly sensation they left along your skin. The feeling of his body.pressed against yours as he held you close, your hips sway in unison. Your legs tangled but never causing you to falter as you spun across the hardwood floor. 

Every bit of dancing with him was memorable, and it only made your obviously feelings grow more until your heart was beating not from the intensity of the workout you were undergoing, but the pleasure he offered just by being by your side. 

Tonight was one of those nights. You found yourself in the studio late with him. Most of the staff and other idols had left, the clock nearly an ungodly hour. The sky outside was dark, dotted with stars and a crescent shaped moon hovering overhead, not a cloud in sight. But you didn’t care about the darkness. The lights overhead in the dance studio were more than enough to keep you awake, unaware of the minutes that ticked by while focusing on the duo dance with Taeyong you had begun crafting since the earlier parts of the evening.

Compared to other dances, it was more sensual to you. The song Taeyong put on was Say You Won’t Let Go from James Arthur, and it led to you being closer to him than any other dance. Taeyong propped up his phone to record your practice as you decided on moves, piecing them together until you had a section you were proud of.

The entirety of the song, you found yourself in his hold, allowing him to spin you around until you were pressed to his chest. Your feet would slide across the ground before separating from each other, dancing individually, but completely in unison. It always amazed you how he could get your steps to sync perfectly, each body roll to match in time. It made the image you were going for complete. There were lifts and hugs as he spun without issue on the balls of his feet, your heart pounding at your chest the entire time. You always held your breath when your feet left the ground, your arms sliding around his neck as you hugged him close you prayed he wouldn’t feel the thumps of your heart against his tone torso. You never failed to laugh when his hands would find your waist from behind lifting you for a walking motion through the air, enjoying the weightless moment of being in his hands.

The ending of the dance was an accident - but worked in your favor. You were going to turn off the camera after the air walk, Taeyong having slid to the ground in a very Regular-esque move, too flustered to continue. But he moved forward, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, face buried in the side of your head. Reacting on instinct, your hands moved up to clutch at his bare forearm, feeling the veins that ran along them from the extreme workout. Burying your face in his arms, you smiled, letting your eyes close. Taeyong, himself, couldn’t stop from smiling, inhaling your sweet scent.  

The second he saw that on camera, he knew that was how you had to end. Thus, every time you repeated the dance, wanting to perfect it, you wound up in his arms, uncaring about the heat of the room. His warmth was comforting, and you wouldn’t reject that, even if your heart thundered away inside you.

You were panting from the latest go, Taeyong stopping the music when you broke away from his hug. You grabbed your water bottle from your bag, pushing back the beet red blush along your cheeks as you sipped the cooling liquid. Your limbs were aching and your body was slick with sweat, clothes clinging to your frame. Your hair was knotted and messy from the thrills you had. 

Sparing a short glance at the blue-haired idol, he was in a similar state. Dark eyes were glued to his phone, probably watching the latest video, or checking his texts from his members. His loose black shirt was no longer that - it was clinging to his lean body, untucked and wet. When his hand unconsciously moved to ruffle his locks, he sticking shirt rose with his stretched skin, showing off bits of his toned stomach and scar on the right side of his abdomen. His boxers were peeking from his shorts, the dark bank contrasting the red athletic bottoms he had on. 

A low sigh left your lips. You couldn’t but to admire him. He was handsome after all; but your ever-growing affection stemmed from more than his looks. He was everything you wished for - and more. Staring at him became second nature because he was always on your mind. Your heart would beat unevenly with a single glance, a knot balling in your stomach from the rampaging butterflies you felt. Your cheeks heated once more, turning away before he caught you staring.

“Did you realize how late it is already?” he spoke. Light footfalls made their way over to you, the man snatching your water bottle from you. Your face lit up when you saw him take a sip, but you didn’t protest. 

“Is it?”

“Yeah. It’s nearly midnight,” he told you, showing his phone. He wasn’t lying; the white numbers read 11:37 PM. 

“Damn. I didn’t realize it was that late.”

“Yeah. Must have been too focused on this dance,” he snickered. “How early is your lesson tomorrow?”

“Not till ten luckily,” you told him, retrieving your water bottle and replacing it in your bag.

“So,” he began, pursing his lips. The evil grin you had come to know grew, the man leaning forward slightly. “We have time for one more run before we have to get going.”

Your eyebrow rose, but you giggled, nodding after a second. “Fine. One more run.”

The music began, your steps following the beat together. He held you close, the two of you sliding across the entire studio while the music flowed. A heat was radiating between you both that you hadn’t really noticed before, making it a bit hard to concentrate. However, in Taeyong’s arms, you felt like everything was effortless. The lifts, the kicks, the twirls - everything felt natural. 

When the final move came, you didn’t realize how unprepared for the hug you were. Something about it felt different, and yet, you found yourself sinking into his grasp. Neither of you cared about the sweat that coated your skin, or the way your bodies stuck together from the wet clothes. Neither of your cared when the music died away, the camera still rolling. Neither of you cared about the late time, or the exhausting that would soon hit.

In that moment, it was just about you and him. You and Taeyong. 

Turning slowly in his arms, your hands slid down neck to his shoulders, and finally finding home resting on his chest, feeling it rise and fall with heavy pants. He watched you silently, slightly parted pink lips gasping for air. You didn’t look up at him, keeping your eyes forward, memorizing the Adidas logo on his shirt. His hands sat comfortably on your hips, itching to move, fingers curling slightly against your skin. 

Slowly, one hand moved to push back a stray strand of hair that escaped the rat’s nest you called a ponytail. His fingers lingered, hesitating before tilting your head up to look at him Your eyes bore into his dark orbs, watching them glisten and twinkle. The heat around you intensified, but it was nothing compared to the blush that warmed your face when his fingers caressed your cheek softly. The touch singed you, the skin tingling violently from the simplest graze.

His eyes darted in different directions for a moment before he finally leaned down, connecting his lips to yours in a soft, sweet kiss. His eyes closed, yours shortly following from the eruption of pleasure you felt. The kiss was gentle, almost as if it wasn’t real. The connection was short, leaving you with a prickling sensation along your lips. Your lips rubbed together, wanting to confirm if that was real or not. 

He tasted like cherries.

His eyes cracked open to look down at you, finding your lips puckered slightly, eyes still closed. Seeing that, he couldn’t stop himself. The hand on your waist gripped tighter. The hand on your face got a better grasp, thumb smoothing across your cheek while the rest tangling in your messy locks. He leaned back down, more pressure into the kiss this time. His head tilted, hadn’t stopped rolling, meshing his lips perfectly with yours. 

And honestly, truly, you didn’t want to stop him. Your hands curled into his shirt, pushing up on your toes to return the kiss that you were hungry for. Your bodies pushed closer together, the world around you ceasing to exist in that moment. It was just about you and him.

You and Taeyong. Kissing each other like you were made for each other.

The camera hadn’t stopped rolling, something Taeyong would be grateful for later as he relived the moment the rest of the night, a pale pink blush on his face.

~

Taeyong frowned to himself, nibbling at his thumb nail anxiously. His eyes were glued to your form, not hesitating in his multiple notes of sluggishness and sloppiness. Rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, he could only ponder why you had a sudden one-eighty before him. All the progress you had seemed to be dumped unremorsefully into the garbage, forgotten and abandoned with ease. The intimate dance the night before seemed like it never happened, though in his heart, he couldn’t forget the memory he held from it.

He was forced to watch your once dominant presence recede to the background once more. Your powerful stance was lackluster, and your willful eyes were dull. You followed others almost lazily, unable to keep up with the same choreography you had easily master days prior. His heart wrenched solemnly at the sight, gritting his teeth against his nail and squeezing his eyes shut unhappily. 

It felt like day one all over again took form. 

He hated that.

Once the music ended, all the trainees, including yourself, were hunched over, panting and sweating profusely. You ignored the tingle that came from Taeyong’s piercing gaze, knowing his eyes were locked on you. Pulling your lower lip between your teeth, your head fell further than before, tears welling in your orbs and clouding your vision. 

You couldn’t deny that you were disappointed in yourself with your performance, but your body was incapable of performing at its peak. The nagging voice in the back of your head kept echoing through your mind, the doubts you were used to having resurfacing at an amplified rate. Random cases of insecurity, seemingly unrelated to your current predicament, snuck in as well, aiding to your rapid descent to your day one trainee days. 

“Alright, let’s call it a day everyone,” Jihun called, gathering his belongings. “It’s already getting late out, and I’d like to make sure you all can get back to your dorms safely. Thank you for a wonderful class today.”

“Thank you,” everyone repeated in unison, your voice quieter than the others around you. The group began to separate, picking up their belongings while conversing with their friends. With a heavy sigh, you trudged over to your bag, white knuckling the strap. You were ready to run away, locking yourself in your dorm so you could wallow in peace.

“Do you have a sec?” 

Your eyes darted to the sorrowful brown ones of Taeyong. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his tight black jeans hiding the evidence of his anxious gnawing on his pristine nails. The toe of his Nikes was dug into the hardwood dance floor. Slowly, you nodded in response, Taeyong’s frown deepening at your silence. 

Once the last person left, Taeyong’s gaze narrowed on you. A shaky breath left his pink lips, voicing the thoughts that had plagued him since the music started. “What’s going on with you today?”

“Taeyong, I…”

The idol pouted at your weak voice. “I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized. “I’m just really confused, Y/N. You were doing so well. You showing everyone just how good you really are. All this confidence you had, being in the front during practice and learning the choreographies quickly and precisely, seems to have vanished. Everything that I’ve seen you do is gone and it’s like you are back at day one.”

“Tae-”

“I just want to know what’s going on,” he whispered. “What happened for you to suddenly regress to this stage? What happened for you to lose everything you had worked on?”

“Taeyong, I just…”

His head tilted, eying you quietly. He noticed the way your cheeks reddened and you avoided looking at him. It clicked in the idol’s head. Hesitantly, he pulled his hands from his pockets, wiping them free of sweat before taking your softly. His grasp was warm, giving a reassuring squeeze. The idol tugged you forward, closing the gap between you both. Glancing up, you met his stare and gentle, yet somewhat sorrowful, smile.

“Is it because of me?” he uttered softly. “Am I making you nervous?”

Silence.

“Is this… because of last night?” he asked again. 

Silence.

“Is this because I kissed you?”

You blinked back tears, letting a shaky breath out. “I-I’m just nervous, I guess,” You told him. “Last night was amazing but… I can’t help but ask myself why. I wonder why me and I can’t help but to feel like I’m not good enough. You are just an amazing idol and I’m just me. I’m this pathetic trainee. I felt myself getting nervous and scared, and I just didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to think or to act, and I guess it got inside my head. I couldn’t remember anything from the second I walked in, despite all our practice, and I just felt shy in front of everyone again knowing they would judge me for this. I guess… I just lost confidence in myself.”

“Y/N, you're not pathetic at all. You know that. But, why didn’t you just say something? You know you can tell me anything” he asked with a light chuckle.

“Because I’m nervous,” you admitted.

“So am I. But I can tell you this flat out,” he hummed. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I wasn’t sure that I liked you. I like you a hell of a lot, Y/N. You are talented, funny, smart, beautiful. I love being around you. I’ve never felt so connected to someone before, but with you, it’s easy because I see so much of myself in you. It’s so easy to be with you because you put me at ease with myself. I want to spend every waking second I can with you, seeing you succeed by my side. And honestly, all I want to do is kiss you again.”

 “You like me?” you asked. 

Taeyong laughed, pulling you into him. Arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his chest. “You have no idea,” he let out. “I like you so much and I don’t want to see you lose yourself to your nerves. I want to see you succeed and I want to be by your side when that happens.”

“So, what are you saying?” you asked, an embarrassed smile grow to match your flushed cheeks. 

“What I’m saying is that I want to be with you,” he hummed, “Because I wouldn’t have kissed you last night if I wasn’t sure that I completely and utterly had fallen for you.”

“Tae-”

“But I will only accept you as my girlfriend on one condition.”

“Oh?”

Taeyong smiled, leaning down until his lips were nearly upon yours. Your skin tingled from the ghostly touches. “You won’t let your nerves get to you like this again. I’m sorry I made you nervous and doubt yourself, but I don’t regret kissing you. I want you to promise me that you won’t give up, you won’t let your stinking nerves overwhelm you again, you will be number one and you will debut as an idol someday so we can perform together in front of our fans. I want to be able to sing and dance with you in front of everyone so they can see just how amazing I know you are. Deal?”

“Just kiss me, you fool.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. He knew your answer the second you demanded his lips to press against yours perfectly, your bodies pressing even closer than before. His foot snaked between yours, leg sliding between yours to sit comfortably. His arms hung from your waist while yours encircled his neck, your heads tilting in opposite directions. An exhale of relief made your nose flare, but that didn’t stop the passionate kiss between you. 

You mind buzzed the rest of the night. Hand in hand, you walked to Lee Soo Man’s office to tell him the news, agreeing to keep your relationship strictly private to avoid any scandals. Neither of you minded, wanting to avoid the news as much as possible. It meant more than you were allowed to date such an amazing idol - a man you and idolized for so long for his unique talents. 

Sending him a sideways glance as you walked down the hall, hands clasped together, you set forth your own conviction. Giving his larger hand a firm, loving squeeze, you smiled to yourself.

I will never give up on this dream. I won’t let you down, Taeyong.

~

He didn’t realize how fast his feet were carrying him down the nearly empty hallway the second he told the rest of his members that practice was finished. He didn’t stick around long enough to hear their cheers, nor their snickers at his overwhelming exuberance. The male idol had checked his phone briefly between songs, the water he was about to sip to wet his parched throat forgotten. 

Come to the normal practice room when you are done with the members. I want to see you, and I have something important to tell you.

His grin broke out, dropping his phone in his bag and zipping it shut. With a short call to the others, he was out the door, making a quick detour to the cafe before heading to his practice place - your practice room. The halls were nearly barren aside from some trainees headed back from their vocal lessons and some idols idly headed towards the exit to head back to their dorm. 

Taeyong knew the sky outside was pitch black aside from the lights of Seoul twinkling light stars. Practice had started later than usual because he had other matters to handle before calling the rest of 127 to their normal studio to do their normal routine in preparation for their upcoming performances and company activities. Better to start early than later, he always told them. The plan was to stay as long as their bodies would allow.

But, duty called. The others knew that from the bright shine in his dark orbs.

With two iced coffees in hand, he was pushing his way into the practice room, pausing to close the door quietly behind him with his foot. The straw for his coffee rested between his lips, the man sipping at it quietly while keeping his eyes trained on you. You were occupied when he entered, soft music playing through the speakers as you danced strongly. 

It felt like an eternity since he had seen you dancing, despite the amount of time you spent together due to your strong relationship. Since starting back up with group activity, his time with your class had petered off. When the day came that he said he would no longer be joining for dance lessons, it was a solemn goodbye from the trainees, each one thanking him for his time, expertise, knowledge and sharing his experiences in hopes that they would one day, too, make it as he had. You had given him the longest, most heartfelt hug, his hand running along your back before he whispered cheekily that he would see you that night for dinner at the dorm. 

He hadn’t really seen you dancing since that day. Your time together was more relaxed, spent cuddled together on the couch or in bed, watching silly shows, listening to music, or just doing your own things - Taeyong writing lyrics or planning choreographies while you prepared for upcoming lessons and evaluations. Occasionally, you would play games together in his dorm room, his solo dorm a blessing for times like that. 

And… other things too, of course. 

He felt a smile grow on his cheeks as he watched your smooth but powerful movements. His heart was racing. He always knew you were talented, but in the time apart, he was happily surprised at how much you improved. Your steps were firm, sliding across the polished hardwood without difficulty. Your arms extended into perfect lines. Your pirouettes rivaled those of the best dancers in SM that had trained in ballet, stopping on a dime without even the slightest wobble. Sweat made your face glisten, the man’s heart beating faster and a hot blush residing on his cheeks, running down his sharp jawline to his neck. 

You didn’t notice him until you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. Tumbling to the side with a yelp, Taeyong let out a hearty chuckle, moving to place the drinks he brought down, sliding his bag to the floor next to yours. Unlocking your phone, he stopped the music, the noise in the room replaced with your quiet grumbles. 

“You know better than to sneak up on me,” you huffed angrily, grabbing the coffee he held out for you.

“Didn’t mean to, baby.”

You snorted at him, shaking your head with a ghost of a smile. “I know,” you let out. “I didn’t expect you to get here so fast. You said you guys were practicing late so I figured I had some time to work on this choreography I’ve been thinking of.”

“You designed that?” he questioned, shock on his face.

“Yeah. Was it bad?” you asked, pouting. 

Taeyong grinned, grabbing the towel from your bag. Running the towel along your skin, he dried off the sweat that dripped along your face and neck. You giggled when he pat your chest dry as well, red cheeks from the sight of your sports bra clad features. When he dropped it back to your bag, his hands immediately turned to cup your cheeks, pulling you into a tender kiss. 

“It was beautiful and I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. 

“You’re too sweet, Yongie,” you cooed, placing your lips on his again in a brief connection. 

“Only to you.”

“That’s a lie.”

Taeyong huffed, pulling you close by the waist. You both swayed silently for a moment until he broke the noiseless minute. “So, what did you need to tell me? You said it was important. Is everything alright, babe?”

You happily sighed at his nickname for you, hugging him close. “Yeah, everything is fine. I just got some good news today and I couldn’t keep myself from telling you. The second I found out, I could only think of you. I wanted to tell you right then and there, but I couldn’t.”

“I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing,” he chuckled. The man ruffled his hair with one hand, giving a toothy grin. “Well, if that’s the case, I have something to tell you as well. Well… more like ask you, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. But, please, you go first. You seemed really excited about this so please share, baby. I’m all ears.”

You let out a heavy breath, nodding your head. “Alright. Well, I had a meeting this morning with Lee Soo Man and Jihun.”

“I don’t know if I should be worried or proud,” Taeyong cut in with a laugh. Scowling, his laughter only got louder with the light smack you gave to his chest. 

“Shush you,” you scolded. “As I was saying, we had a meeting this morning before I had to head to my vocal lessons. And they said some stuff about me and how I was doing in my training. And…”

“You said this was good news,” Taeyong exasperated. 

“I know, and it is!” you giggled. “Jihun mentioned how I have become such a leader amongst the group of trainees I am with, and how much I have improved since I started months ago. He showed some videos of our trainings and of my evaluations. And Lee Soo Man was very impressed with what he saw. And they said how they’ve been talking about it for a while now. And…”

“Babe,” Taeyong whined. With his arms draped around you, his face buried into your neck, his soft breath hitting your fiery skin. “Stop tormenting me. I can’t take it anymore. I need to know what’s going on!”

“You’re so impatient,” you giggled at him. Prying him from your neck, your hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs smoothing across his delicate features. “I’m no longer a trainee, Yong.”

The man blinked. “Wait, what?” he mumbled. “Does… what do you mean exactly?”

You smiled. “Thanks to you and all of that extra training, I’ve been accepted as one of the next SM Rookies. Because you never gave up on me, and you helped me when I was feeling like I couldn’t do this, I’ve managed to take that blank slate and write my own story on it.” Your fingers curled against his cheeks, a few stray, happy tears sliding down your cheeks. “Just like you, Yongie.”

“Oh my god,” he breathed, holding back his own tears. He wiped away the drops that stained your skin, pulling you forward into a deep kiss. “I can’t believe it, baby. You did it. You really did it.” His arms pulled you close, embracing you in a tight, but warm, hug. Your face was trapped against his chest, burrowed in the soft fabric that smelled slightly of Febreze. “I’m so proud of you. I knew you could do it. I’ve always known you could, but now, it’s so much more real. You’re going to make it big, Y/N, and I can’t wait to see that happen.”

“Thank you, Taeyong,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Sure you could-”

“No, I couldn’t. It’s because of you that I was able to get better. It’s because of you that I had the push to keep trying and get better. If you weren’t here, I would have given up and quit weeks ago. But you wouldn’t let me. And because of that, I knew I couldn’t let you down. I told myself that I would make you proud and one day, I would stand beside you on stage as your equal. You’ve given me so much inspiration just by being you and I want to do that too.”

“And you will,” he breathed, smiling widely. His words confused you, making you raise a brow at him. “Let’s just say that you aren’t the only one that had a meeting with Lee Soo Man today.”

“Oh? Pray tell, what happened to you today, my sweet boyfriend?”

“Mmm. Say that again,” he cooed. 

Rolling your eyes, you complied, pushing up to whisper against his lips, “Boyfriend.” The second the word left your lips, he pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, molding his mouth to yours. 

The connection made you mewl slightly, allowing yourself to be pulled closer by the normally awkward idol. He wasn’t one to show affection often in public, but in private he had trouble keeping his hands to himself. Delicate fingers danced along your bare sides, tickling the skin until goosebumps rose under the tips. His head tilted to deepen the kiss, pushing passed partially parted lips so his tongue could teasingly play with yours. 

Before things could get more heated, you pulled away from his kiss. A whine of annoyance left his lips, wanting to taste more of your lips. Yet, he held back. 

“Finish what you were going to say, baby,” you told him. 

“Fine. But only if I get more kisses afterwards,” he pleaded. 

“I think we can arrange that.”

“Good,” he said. “So, before practice today, I had a meeting with Lee Soo Man, the managers, the other group leaders about the upcoming SM Town in a couple of months. I’m guessing my meeting was after yours since I didn’t see you around and you were already at practice by the time I got out-”

“Focus, Yong.”

“Right, right,” he nervously laughed. “First, I have to say that you are bound to not say anything about this right now until they talk about this to everyone. But, because this impacts you, I was given permission to say this.”

“Go on.”

“I’m going to have my own solo stage during the concert,” he confessed.

“Oh my god. Taeyong! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you,” you hollered, hugging him tightly. “You definitely deserve it.”

“Thanks,” he shyly let out, cheeks heated. “I’ve been working on this song for a while. I’m actually going in tomorrow to record if you are free and want to join.”

“We’ll talk about that after.”

“Right. Well, I’m basically set to do two performances - one more of a dance performance and one a rap and dance. And when we were discussing ideas...” he paused, pursing and wetting his lips with the dart of his tongue. “I asked if I could do them… with you.”

“Wait, what?” You asked. “Why would you do that? You didn’t even know that I was a Rookie. I was still a trainee, but you still requested that?”

“Well, it makes more sense why they were willing to comply,” he snickered. “I asked because I wanted to be able to dance with you - to perform with you. And I’m not just saying this because you’re my girlfriend. I asked because you are a talented young woman and I want to be able to perform these with you. What I have planned only works in my mind with you. And I think you’re ready to be up there with the rest of us. They said that they’d allow it… if you agreed.”

“Taeyong…”

“It’s just two songs. One will be a collab vocal and dance, more focused on the dance than anything. Then the second one will be a dance for you while I do my solo song. I’ve been thinking about the choreography for weeks now and I can only pull it off if you are by my side performing it. So please, I’m just asking you right now to consider it. You have every right to tell me that you don’t think you are ready and want to wait. But we only have so much time to practice if you do want to do it…”

“Then, when are we meeting?”

Taeyong silenced himself, blinking a few times to process your words. His eyes bore into yours, a grin slowly forming. “Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“I’ll do it,” you told him confidently. “I’m nervous as all hell because I don’t want to ruin your stage, but I want to do it. This is what I joined SM to do. If I back down now, when will I be ready? When will I have the chance again? And, with you there, I’m sure I can do anything.”

Taeyong smiled, tugging you into another hug. “You have no idea how happy you just made me,” he whispered. “Though you know you make me happy every day, right?”

“I could say the same about you,” you giggled. “So, when should we start?”

Taeyong hummed for a moment before choosing you back you up, your back hitting a wall. His hands trailed down your sides slowly, passing over your backside before coming to a rest on your thighs. With a swift motion, he lifted you up, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist, using the wall as leverage to keep yourself upright. Your arms hung around his neck, playing with the loose blue hairs on the back of his head. 

“We can worry about that later,” he breathed, leaning in until he was almost touching your lips. “I think for now, you owe me a little kiss.”

“Are you really wanting to start a make out session in the practice rooms?” you teased. 

“Why not?” he mused. “It’s late. No one is here.”

“You know, sometimes I think you are this sweet and careful man. Then I remember that you aren’t,” you joked.

“Is that a no?”

“That’s an invitation to hurry up and kiss me before someone does walk in on us.”

Taeyong chuckled before pressing his lips to yours hastily and hungrily. Your hands, tangled in his silky locks, pushed his head closer to yours, not caring that your noses squished a tad or your teeth clashed slightly. His hands roamed your thighs, glad you were wearing shorts in the moment. The kiss was open-mouthed, his tongue tangling with yours between your cheeks. His body rocked against you subtly, pressing your chests and groins together. Heat radiated between your forms, drawing you together like magnets. 

The room filled with lip smacking and quiet groans. Every time a kiss a broken, your lips would let out a wet noise, Taeyong giving a second to breathe before delving back in for another kiss. Your mewls of contentment were swallowed, the sounds reverberating inside him. His fingers dug into your skin, squeezing at your thighs and sides happily. His own groans came from your dancing of your tongues and the sting from the tug on his hair that he enjoyed.

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d be sharing such a fiery kiss in the middle of a practice room. But you weren’t going to argue the occurrence in the slightest.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there with him, but you were sure to enjoy the time.

~

The alarm on your phone blared from the side table, the room dark. You struggled to reach for the noisy device, your body restricted by the fluffy blankets and clinging boyfriend on your side that barely stirred from the blasting sounds in his dorm room. Letting out a sigh once the alarm was stopped, you glanced down at the sleeping bluenette, seeing his snuggled against you happily. His arm was clung to your waist, your legs tangled under the blankets. His face was buried against the side of your chest, gentle breathing fanning against the bare skin of your chest. 

Fingers raked through his locks, trying to urge him awake. “Yong, you have to wake up,” you cooed sweetly at him. 

“No,” he grumbled huskily, curling deeper into your side. Despite his protest to wake up, you stirred at the feeling of his lips against your chest, kissing at the side of your bare breast. 

“Is that so?” you whimpered at him, writhing slightly when his kisses increased. He smiled against your soft skin, trailing lazy kisses up to your perky nipple. “Really, Taeyong? You want to do this now?” 

The man stayed suckling at your supple breast for a moment before pulling away with a subtle pop. You could faintly see the lazy grin on his face through the darkness. 

“Can’t blame me,” he rasped, nuzzling his face between your breasts. “I just love you so much.”

The words made your heart jump, smiling down at him. “I love you too. But we have to get up. It’s the SM Town performance today, baby. We have to be there by noon to start getting ready. But you promised your members that you would make breakfast.”

“Can we just snuggle for a bit longer?” he asked, glancing up with a sleepy pout. 

Placing a kiss to the top of his head, you laughed. “Fine. But just a little bit longer,” you conceded. “But…” 

“But?”

You forced him off your chest and onto his back beside you, twisting your legs between his and slinging an arm across his smooth stomach. Your fingers ran along his milky skin, smiling to yourself. “I get to do this.”

Taeyong laughed, adjusting his position to drape his arm behind your head. His free arm moved behind his head, propping himself up to look down at you better. He watched you skim your fingers along his stomach, the blanket pushed down to his hips. The tips of your fingers circled his belly button, pressing against his lean muscles. 

“You have such a nice, smooth tummy,” you mumbled. Taeyong laughed at your words, shaking his head. 

“Is that all you like about me?” he asked jokingly.

“Yup,” you teased. “That and your amazing personality, caring nature, mean dance and rap skills, and just overall you.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” he chuckled. Resting your chin on his naked chest, you traced your fingers up his body until you found his arm. You traced along the tattoo on his elbow, the word reading “Under” in contrast to the “Stand” on the arm behind your head. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Of course,” you hummed. “I just love feeling your body. You have the softest skin, Yongie.”

“I work very hard to keep my skin healthy,” he told you. 

“Nothing beats your tummy though,” you giggled. “Your outfit tonight is going to drive me crazy. You wearing a see-through shirt? With your stomach showing? How am I supposed to dance and sing while you are looking like a snack?”

“Snack? Really?” He chuckled. “What about you? The dress you wear? I love the design they went with for it. You’re going to look so good.”

“I hope so.”

Taeyong remained quiet for a second before kissing your forehead. “How are you feeling today?” he asked seriously.

“If I’m being honest?” you hummed. “Nervous as all hell. I can’t believe this is happening. Today is the day and I just… I don’t want to screw this up.”

“You’re going to do great,” he told you making you look up at him. “We’ve practiced so much. You know the song. You know the dances. You just can’t let your nerves get to you.”

“How are you not nervous?” you asked, frowning at him. Taeyong laughed, ruffling his already messy bed head.

“Baby, I’m always nervous before a performance,” he admitted. “But I know it’ll be worth it to perform because I know the fans will enjoy it. And as long as I try, I give it my all, and I have fun, I know it’ll be worth it. Being up on stage, all those people watching you, is the most nerve wracking but exciting feeling. But I guarantee once you are out there, seeing all those light sticks shining in the sea of fans, hearing their fan chants and their cheers for you, you will love it.”

“You better be right,” you scowled, escaping his grasp. Hovering over him for a moment, you placed a tender kiss to his lips. “If you aren’t, then I will…”

“You will…?”

“I don’t know right now,” you huffed. “But I will be very mad!”

He watched you climb out of bed, finding a pair of clothes to wear from his drawers. He smiled to himself. “You’ll enjoy it. I just know it.”

“I’m sure you’re right. You always are,” you confessed, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “Now, get up and get dressed. We need to make breakfast before Mark comes knocking asking for food.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Mere hours later, after a rowdy and loud breakfast, you were whisked away to the Seoul World Cup Stadium in preparation for the performances that night. Taeyong gave you a sweet smile, yelling ‘fighting’ before he was dragged away for hair and makeup with his group members. 

You were escorted in the opposite direction, placed in a chair while your face was dusted with makeup and your hair was pinned up stylishly but elegantly. Your eyes popped and your lips looked vibrant. You couldn’t believe how good you looked when they stepped away, allowing you to stare at your reflection.

After dressing in your dress, a low-cut black dress that shimmered with sparkles, ending at your thighs and a pair of shorts underneath due to the performance at hand, and a pair of glittery silver heels adorned on your feet, you stood on the side of the stage watching the NCT performance going on. A stage hand was preparing your headset for the duet you would shortly perform with Taeyong, placing the earpiece in your left ear to hear yourself as you sang. You shuffled in your spot, feeling the anxiety bubbling up inside you. Your hands rang together awkwardly, trying to avoid gnawing at your lip to ease your stress. 

“I can do this,” you told yourself repeatedly, letting out a shaky breath. “I trained for this. I’m ready to do this. I can’t give up.” 

I can’t let Taeyong down.

As the music on stage came to an end, the vibrations fading away with the last chords, the eight boys of NCT 127, apart from Taeyong, fanned off the stage, leaving the solo idol in the center of the large platform. The lights were beating down on him, the black, sheer, long-sleeved shirt twinkling to match your dress. His black skinny jeans hugged his hips and legs, neatly shined black boots on his feet. Despite the cheer of the fans throughout the stadium, he remained composed, face turned to the ground to prepare for the song. 

The gentle beat of the music started, a familiar tune of Senorita coming through the speakers. You were given the cue to proceed, just as you had rehearsed the day before. With one last heavy breath, your feet carried your forward confidently, stepping onto the stage and under the bright colored lights in front of thousands of fans for the first time. 

Taeyong slowly turned to you as part of the dance, your slow, near sensual steps towards each other bringing you face to face. You wanted to crack a smile at him, but you remained focused, watching him step aside as you started to sing. Your solo dance and vocal section came first, showing precise steps, powerful moves, and sexy curves and shimmies of your body.

Taeyong’s section came next. He stood across the stage from you as he sang, showing his handsome yet talented self. Every move was perfection, the man a natural with the dance. It was more sensual than his normal dance moves, but he had no issue rolling his body to the beat, a hand running along the length of his chest to his covered groin. 

Your duet was next - your bodies came together, arms encircling one another as you danced together for the first time. His hands held your gently yet firmly as you moved your bodies against one another, Taeyong twirling you around, dipping you gracefully, and spinning you into his arms before grasping your leg, bringing it up his side.

You broke for a solo portion once more, repeating the process of dancing to your portion of the song before Taeyong had his own section. You couldn’t help but marvel when he danced, almost forgetting to do your part before you came together for the last portion of your dance together. 

When you came together once more, you were elated with how the dance turned out. Your steps were perfectly in sync, never missing a beat with one another. Your bodies fit against one another seamlessly with each roll of your figure or advance on one another. Taeyong fingers grazed your carefully when he would trace along your body, leaving a trail of fire along the way. Your heart pounded the entire time, but you loved the feeling of being there with him. 

The dance ended with you forms back to back. The music died down, but the thumping in your ears didn’t. You didn’t even register the screams of the crowd as you walked off briskly, swapping shoes quickly and pulling on a sparkly black leather jacket. Taeyong was beginning his new solo song, his voice fading away for a short interlude. That was the cue for you to rejoin his side, his own black jacket in hand.

You helped him slide it on, his hand resting on your side briefly once it was on. This time, you didn’t hide the smile on your face, his own smirk rising. Your bodies separated, turning to face the crowd. Your eyes scanned the seats, inwardly grinning while eyeing the waving light sticks and cheerful fans. Your eyes rang with Taeyong’s voice, his rap beginning to pick up. 

With the start of his song came the start of the dance. The style was completely different than your first dance, the current dance being higher paced, along the lines of a hip-hop style. Your body popped more than before, feet swiveling on the stage - you were thankful for the switch for the sneakers over the heels. You still managed to match Taeyong’s moves perfectly, never missing a beat or disconnecting from his steps. The dance was more fun to perform, but still help a passionate edge when you got to pull him closer, standing chest to chest with the man of your dreams, or when he spun you around into his arms, his long fingers ghosting down your arm until he was holding your hand, sparks from his fingertips leaving goosebumps along your clothed skin.

You stepped away briefly before stepping together one last time. The song closed, you both turning to the crowd. As the music ended, your bodies heaving with heavy pants for precious air, they erupted into a sea of screams that consisted of not only Taeyong’s name, but yours as well. You saw people standing from the seats, bouncing on the balls of their feet as they chanted, waving the various colors in the sky. 

You wanted to cry. You wanted to cheer. You felt overwhelmed from the validation.

But you held it in as you and Taeyong rushed off stage for the next performance. Your head was pounding, and you were dripping with sweat from the heat of the stage, but you were thrilled. Your quick steps came to a halt as soon as you got backstage, away from the camera and fans. Turning to face the popular idol, he was giving you a smile, two hands raised to give you a high five.

You smiled, slapping your hands to his. You remained in that stance for a second, allowing everything to sink in. After the second passed, Taeyong pushed forward, his arms dropping and wrapping around your waist instead. You were lifted from the ground, your arms instantly flinging around his neck and hugging him close. Spinning in circles, you both laughed joyously. 

“You did it!” he cheered, hearing you laugh more.

“We did it,” you corrected.

Taeyong placed you back on the ground, pushing a few strands of loose hair back. “No. You did it. This was your first performance and they loved it. They loved you, Y/N. They were chanting for you, they were cheering for you. You were amazing out there and they saw that.” He hugged you once more, lifting you back off the ground. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Taeyong,” you whispered, burying your face in his neck. “Thank you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“This was all you, Y/N,” he said. He placed you back down, sticking his tongue out playfully. “Welcome to the big leagues now, idol. It’s good to have you with us.”

You grinned, smacking him jokingly. “It’s good to be here. I’m glad I can join such an amazing group of people to work with.”

“The world should be ready to see more of Y/N. Because this was just the beginning.”

You smiled at him, dragging him away. “You’re right, Yong. Because I’m never giving this up.”

Taeyong smiled, stealthily slipping his hand in yours as you walked towards wardrobe to change for the final stage, everyone sporting the same SM Town shirt. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You were high from the adrenaline, but you knew this is where you were meant to be. 

~

You returned to the NCT dorm with the boys after the concert ended, all nine spouting off about wanting to celebrate. However, the last thing you really wanted to do was party, and it was evident the others were just as exhausted. Feet trudged along to the door of the large dorm, holding it open for you to walk in. Taeyong stood behind you, his hands on your hips as he slouched forward against you. 

Despite their reckless desire to celebrate the night, all the boys went their separate ways, bidding adieu on their way to their respective rooms to collapse. A few stopped into the kitchen to grab a snack before disappearing to their rooms. Taeyong led you to his room, opening the door and allowing you to enter first.

He chuckled lowly when you collapsed to the bed, letting out a heavenly sigh of relief. “Who would have thought that being a rookie idol would be this tiring?” came your muffled voice, face smushed in his pillows. The bed dipped with his weight when he sat beside you, rubbing a soothing hand along your back. 

“Just wait till you actually debut and start touring and performing more often. It gets…” he paused, pondering his words. “Tiring.”

“I’d bet.”

“How about,” he hummed, turning you onto your back so he could hover over you better. He carefully reached out to pull a few pins holding your hair up carefully from your stiff locks, “You go take a shower first and relax a bit. I will shower when you are done.”

“A shower sounds nice,” you mumbled, taking his hand in yours. “But you can just join me?”

The phrase came out as more of a question, but it didn’t catch Taeyong off guard.

“You know I’d love to, but the others are home…”

“And they’re in their rooms, probably already asleep. You have your own bathroom. And it’s just a shower, Yong.”

Sucking his lips between his teeth, he tugged you up, stifling a laugh at the groan you let out even though you allowed him to drag you away. The light flickered to life, Taeyong pulling you in and closing the door behind your forms. He pulled two towels from under his sink, placing them aside. Your eyes followed him as he made for the shower, turning on the water to allow the heat to build, soft wisps of steams floating through the air. 

The lean idol stripped his head over his head, placing it neatly aside for him to hang later. Turning to you next, he helped to pull your shirt away from your form, placing it with his. Nimble fingers made quick work of the button and zipper on your jeans, your hands resting on his shoulders while he kneeled low enough to slide the dark denim from your legs. 

Being the gentleman he was, he turned to allow you to finish undressing yourself, though it wasn’t anything new for him to see, and step into the shower before him. You did so wordlessly, a glowing smile upon your cheeks the entire time.  Stripping free of your bra and underwear, you stepped through the glass door into the scalding watering. A giant sigh of delight escaped, almost the sound of a low moan.

Taeyong joined you shortly after, staring at you for a moment under the water. He admired the way the droplets cascaded down your body, your head dipped under the waterfall of water, allowing it to wet your hair. Your hands scrubbed at the makeup that caked your face, revealing your natural beauty that was one of the things he loved about you. 

He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you against his bare form. You smiled happily, leaning back into his grasp, your head resting on his shoulder. The water fell over your forms, the heat helping your bodies to relax from the stress and strain of the day. He held you for what felt like an eternity, just allow you to rest in his arms. 

The idol grabbed the shampoo from his neatly organized shampoo ack, lathering a few drops in your hair gently. You did the same to him, using the hair treatment shampoo for his colored hair. Repeating the process with conditioner, you moved on to soaping up your bodies, cleaning yourself of any sweat that clung to you still and any remaining makeup that was dusted to your skin.

The soapy suds circled your feet as it was rinsed away, spiraling down the drain. Taeyong hugged you close to him as the last of the bubbles vanished. His fingers ran through your hair, your head tilting up to stare at his handsome face. Your eyes traced along the sharp jawline and dark eyes, slowly pushing up to press your lips to his soft pink ones in a supple kiss.

His arms tightened around you, eyes fluttering closed while responding with his own force. He pressed into you, returning the kiss thoughtlessly. His head tilted to the side to allow himself more access, lips parting to share a steamy open-mouth kiss. Your tongues tangled together between your cheeks, lips dragging against each other. Each separation caused a low smack to resonate around you, amplified by the glass walls and heated air. Taeyong would then dip back down to repeat the actions, each new kiss growing more passionate than before.

Slowly, his lips began to drag down your jaw to your neck, placing loving kisses to your skin. A low moan escaped your lips before you attempted to seal them together, not wanting to alert the others of what was going on in the dorm. The idol didn’t seem to enjoy that. His frown was evident against your neck, and his actions portrayed the dissatisfaction from the lack of noise. His hands began to roam your body, thumbs brushing against your pert nipples and tracing the round curvature of your breasts.

“Taeyong,” you let out quietly. “The others-”

“They won’t hear,” he rasped. “You even said it yourself. They’re in bed. And if you are worried, then you should keep quiet.”

“You’re mean,” you fake cried.

“But you love it,” he cooed teasingly, his head traveling lower, kissing you along the way. “We’ll keep this short.”

Those were the last words he managed to utter before he connected his lips to your chest, suckling to your hardened bud. His hand toyed with the other breast, squeezing at it firmly. Your hands wound through his blue locks, low moans filling Taeyong’s ears. The attack of his mouth to your mound increased at the new noises, nipping and kitten licking at the tender skin of your chest. His tongue flicked at the nipple before tugging at it with his lips and teeth, a pop echoing in your ears.

The same process was repeated to your other breast, the idol leader playing favor to suckling at the nipple, latching onto it to give it plenty of attention. When he finally disconnected, the man sunk to his knees, gently parting your legs for him to settle between. You used his shoulders to stay upright, sighing contently at the feeling of his hot breath against your core.

He wasted no time pressing his lips to your center, dragging his tongue through your folds and into your throbbing pussy. Nails dug into his pristine skin, a short gasp of ecstasy released at the feeling. He lapped at your core, circling the wet article inside you for a bit before taunting you by pulling it in and out occasionally.

When his mouth finally met your clit, you moaned louder than before. A grin grew on his face, suck at the nub harshly. A hand slid up your leg, disappearing between them. Two fingers circled your entrance before pushing into you. The thrusts started slow at first, focusing more of his effort on his mouth attached to your clit, but the pace gradually picked up. The tips of his long fingers curled, scratching at your inner walls with each thrust. 

You moans picked up, one hand covering your mouth to shield the volume before you were screaming through the dorm for the other members to hear. Your body was on fire from how he made you feel, a knot growing inside your lower abdomen. The knot tightened severely when the curled fingers brushed to your g-spot, causing your body to jerk forward with a short call of his name. 

His licks got faster, his fingers speeding up until he was knuckle deep, pounding you furiously to get you to your high. Your own fingers curled back into his wet hair, giving it small tugs that did nothing to ease the smoldering fire within. Your heart was racing, thumping loudly in your ears. Your walls were clenching and unclenching alternatively, trying to hug at the digits inside you. Your stomach tightened at the overwhelming feeling of arousal that was washing over you.

“Yong… Taeyong,” you gasped through your fingers. “I’m…”

He nodded in understanding, flicking quickly at your clit, aiming for your g-spot with his fingers as often as possible to get you to the turn. Your sight went white for a moment when the knot unraveled, walls clinging around his fingers and spilling your essence around them. Some drops escaped and trickled down your leg, washing away with the cooling water that still fell from above. 

Taeyong’s mouth detached from your core, licking through your folds a few times before standing upright, pulling you against him. Any juices that were on his hand washed away, his clean hand tracing up and down your spine to soothe you through your climax. His lips pressed to your forehead, uttering a short ‘I love you’ before pulling away.

“I will leave you to finish. Take your time, alright? I will leave you some clothes on the counter.”

You nodded at him, hazy eyes watching him leave the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist and disappearing out the door, hearing a near silent click when it shut. Your eyes closed, allowing yourself to relax for a few minutes, your mind still buzzing from the aftermath of your orgasm.

You dried and dressed in one of his long sleeve shirts, a pair of shorts you had left in his room hugging your waist. You ran the towel through your hair as you walked back into his room, spotting him at his desk - dressed and comfortable a simple white tee and lounge pants. His hair was still wet, his eyes focused on whatever he was working on. His fabric markers were strewn across the top of his table. Soft music played from his phone, the man humming along to the Post Malone song. Your clothes had been hung up, ready for the wash. His hair dryer was plugged in beside him, resting on his desk with other random belongings.

He didn’t flinch when your hands met his shoulders, running down his arms slowly, feeling the goosebumps that prickled along his arms. Trickling your fingertips back up, one hand laced through his wet locks, the other moving to grab the hairdryer. Cautiously, not wanting to burn him, you clicked the machine on, threading your fingers through his hair as the heat penetrated them, the wet strands fluffing and drying. You were careful not to get to close to his ears or scalp, scratching at it lightly and soothingly. 

When he was fully dried, you proceeded to dry your own hair, watching him doodle on two pairs of white shoes. Each pair had the same markings, from words to pictures. The other difference was one pair had his name, the other pair not matching the elegant lettering on the side. The machine buzzed to silence when you turned it off, putting it down and unplugging it. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you rested on his shoulder, watching him closely.

“What are you working on?” you asked. Taeyong turned his head towards you, smiling sweetly, a bright blush on his cheeks. 

“You weren’t supposed to find out until they were done,” he huffed playfully. 

“Well, you’re the one that was working on them knowing I was just in the bathroom.”

“I know,” he mused. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but I also can’t keep anything from you. I’ve wanted to let you know about this little project for a while.”

“So? What are you up to, Lee Taeyong?”

“I was designing a new pair of shoes… for both of us,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed. “You know, a matching set for us to wear. As a…”

“As a couple?” you asked, the idol nodding. You smiled at him, placing a tender kiss to his cheek. “That’s sweet, babe. I love that so much.”

“You do?” he asked meekly.

“Of course,” you giggled. “Plus, they are coming from you. Why wouldn’t I love them?”

“I don’t know…”

“I think it’s sweet,” you hummed, hugging him tighter, peppering the side of his face in kisses that made him smile and laugh. “I can’t wait until they are done so we can wear them together.”

“I’ll have them done soon,” he told you, turning to stare at you. Without hesitation, he pressed his lips to yours in a simple kiss that didn’t last long, though a tingling sensation was left behind after your separated. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Yong.”

He grinned, kissing you again swiftly. The kiss didn’t linger long before Taeyong had broken away, hand scouring the desk for the polaroid camera you had gifted him one day. He used it regularly when he was with the guys and yourself. The pictures he took were lining his shelves on a string, and he was more than happy to add to them. He had mastered the art of taking a selfie with the polaroid camera, swapping it to aim towards you. 

Your face nuzzled against his, pressing your cheeks together. You each gave a toothy grin before the shutter went off, picture printing from the camera. Taeyong took the newly printed image, placing it aside to develop before aiming the camera again. This time, he turned to you, eyes closing as you shared a loving kiss. Your own eyes fluttered closed, relishing in the feeling he gave you. 

Even when the camera went off and the picture printed, you didn’t separate, allowing Taeyong’s lips to drag against yours. His lips completely covered yours, meshing together perfectly, giving them a soft, wet pop when he eventually pulled away. You instantly pulled him back in, sharing a heated open-mouth kiss that left him whining softly, shuffling in his seat. 

You pulled away from him, taking the developing pictures from Taeyong’s desk to hang them up. He put the camera away, gathering the scattered markers in one spot beside the two pairs of white shoes. Spinning in the chair, we chuckled as he watched you struggle to hang up the pictures, your tongue sticking out upon figure out where to place them. You managed to hang up the first photo of you both smiling before Taeyong joined your side, taking the second photo.

“I think this is my favorite one of us,” he spoke, admiring the photo. “I should frame it.”

“You’re a dork,” you laughed, kissing his cheek. 

“Don’t laugh at me. It’s cute!” he scowled, choosing to hang the photo in the middle of the line, adjusting those around it to properly showcase his idol family. He looked proud of his display, hands pressed to his slim waist. “There. It’s perfect for now.”

“For now?” you teased, collapsing on his bed. Hugging a pillow to your chest and curling into a ball, you watched him straighten up his room, giving a few squirts of Febreze to freshen the place before preparing to sleep. Taeyong stood in the middle of the room, glancing in your direction and snickering at the ball cuddled into his sheets. Slowly, his shirt was peeling over his head, placed with the rest of his clothes. 

A short yelp of surprise and joy left your lips when he tackled you to the bed, your bodies rolling around the covers until your back was against the small mattress, his body hovering over yours. His face nestled its way into your neck, nipping and kissing the skin. His hands traveled your sides, hips rutting against yours. A low mewl escaped, music to the man’s ears that urged him to push harder and faster, more kisses to delicate skin. 

“Taeyong, we can’t wake the others-”

The hands trailing along your sides began to tickle at your skin, making you erupt in laughter. Your body squirmed and writhed, trying to escape his grasp, but you remained trapped by his form. Taeyong moved away from your neck to watch you laugh, joining in on the hysterics when you attempted to tickle him back. 

His phone dinged from where he placed it on his bedside table before tackling you. With a deep groan, he paused and grabbed it, reading the message received. You watched him silently, panting to catch your breath from his relentless attack. He snickered slightly before turning it to face you, allowing you to laugh with him as well. 

“I told you we can’t wake the others. And here we are, receiving a message from Mark to keep it down.”

The text was a jumble of letters and numbers, obviously derived from sleep, but it was easy to make out the words Be quiet and go to bed already! from the younger rapper. Your hand covered your mouth, shielding yourself from laughing loudly once again. Taeyong put his phone back, biting at his lip to control his own laughs. 

The man rolled off you, resting on his side with one arm draped over you. To face you, you rolled onto your own side. Your fingers ran through the soft tendrils on his head, watching his beautiful orbs close. His fingers curled against your side, pushing up the shirt you wore to feel your skin. 

“Have I told you how proud I am of you for everything you’ve accomplished?” he spoke slowly, sliding closer until he was pressed flush against you. “Because I am. It doesn’t feel like that long ago that you joined as a trainee and I saw that nervous kitten in the studio. You reminded me so much of myself that I just… I had to help you. But as I got to know you, I couldn’t help just how natural it felt to be with you. I was so drawn to you from day one that I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t make it this far. 

“But look at everything you’ve managed to accomplish. All that hard work. You are just so talented, and you finally got to a point where you can show others just what you are capable of. And it’s not because of me. I helped you along the way, coached you and guided you, but it was all you, baby. You never gave up and now you are a rookie. You are up there performing with the best of us. And I’m sure in no time, you will be in a group of your own, touring across the world and doing what you love. 

“And I couldn’t be prouder to see how far you have come since that first day. I’m glad I could see how you progressed and how you developed. And I surely can’t wait to see where you go in the future.” He paused, rubbing his lips together. “And I hope I can be by your side along the way. As your company mate. As your friend. And as your boyfriend.”

“Taeyong,” you sniffled. “I know you said that it was all me, but I really couldn’t have done it without you. And you have no idea how thankful I am. And I’m glad that I could make it this far with you by my side.”

You paused, pulling him closer our noses brushed against each other. Your lips were nearly upon yours as you mumbled at him. 

“And I never want to give up this dream as long as I have you by my side as my company mate, my friend, and as my boyfriend.” You grinned, pushing into him more. Your legs tangled together, arms encasing each other. “I love you so much.”

He didn’t respond - verbally. His lips pressed to yours, pulling you as close as possible. The open-mouth kiss was steamy from the start, his lips dragging against yours in noisy smacks. Your tongues danced together, a moan caught in your throat. Your bodies rocked against one another, kisses growing sloppier by the second. Your hands tangled in his locks, giving them a tug as the intensity increased. Your legs curled around his, your toes flexing and coiling. His hands roamed your body unforgivingly, selfishly attacking your lips repeatedly until you couldn’t breathe. 

His hands pushed at your shirt, helping you to rid it from your torso and carelessly tossing it away. Greedy hands palmed at your chest, keeping you preoccupied and silenced with the numerous, fiery kisses you shared. While you choked on his tongue, moans were trapped in yours and his throats, enjoying the feeling of his hands on your body. Your eager form pushed into him, rolling together against his heated body. 

His lips broke from yours, tracing along your jaw leading towards your chin, and finally down your neck. He slid down your form to your chest, repeating the same process he had in the shower not long before. Already botched in red dots from his prior activities, newly left marks were left along your breasts as he roamed your mounds. Your favorite part was always when he found your pert nipples, wrapping his lips around them, tugging and nipping at them all while suckling happy at the sensitive bud. The overwhelming sensation of him attached to your breast, lovingly flicking his tongue around the bud, made you moan his name, coaxing him to continue what he was doing.

His lips broke from your breast with a not so subtle pop, smacking his lips together a few times before returning to your lips. The intense kiss made your stomach tighten, your legs kicking and squeezing in an attempt to relieve the sensation between them. Your reaction to his lips made him twitch with excitement, eager hands tugging at your shorts and panties. He managed to push them down without breaking the kiss, your feet kicking them over the end of the bed. HIs lounge pants and boxers followed, taking an extra moment to leave his long legs when they tangled around his ankles. 

One veiny hand was used to drape your leg over his waist, his erect cock pressed between your stomachs. His hips jerked forward, rutting himself against you, making himself twitch and harden more. Your lips broke from his to glance down, the image slightly blurred by hazy eyes. Even in the low light of his room, you could see the swollen red tip of his length between you, beads of precum seeping from the slit. Your mouth watered, core tightening with want. 

“Can I?” he asked quietly, somewhat panting from his excitement. “Please.”

“Yes,” you replied shortly, hugging him close to you. 

Gleefully, Taeyong aligned himself with your core, careful as he eased his way into you. An echo of low moans left you both, Taeyong enjoying the sensation of your tight walls around him and you relishing in the way his large shaft stretched you as he slid in, burying himself hilt deep. The feeling was raw, unlike your first time when the condom shielded his skin from yours. It was times like this you were glad you were on birth control. The feeling was amplified without the need for the pesky rubber. 

Taeyong still inside you, allowing you to adjust to his size, and to not lose control of himself too quick. It didn’t matter how many times he found himself in this position - you drove him crazy every single time. You brought him back up to short kisses, tangling your fingers in his hair as you did. The hand that was on your thigh over his waist squeeze happily, a way to tell you he was enjoying everything. 

When your hips jutted forward, telling him you were ready, he broke the kiss, focusing on his movements. Taeyong always wanted to please you. As much as he loved your kisses, especially during intimate moments like this, we wanted to focus on making you feel good. And one thing he learned was that when you felt good because of his powerful and quick thrusts, you were vocal about it. 

He pulled back slowly before pushing back in just as calmly. The mewls of protest made him chuckle deeply, steadily picking up his pace until he was pounding into you at a consistently strong rhythm. His hand help you close, clenching you so tightly that veins were beginning to run along his arms. Your hips clapped together, the sweat that produced between you making the noise grow. His large cock filled you completely, sliding along your soaked, sensitive walls and hitting every spot that made your head spin. 

He kept hitting the one spot he knew drove you insane. Your hand shot up to cover your mouth, near screaming-like moans leaving your lips, throat vibrating. Taeyong wished he could enjoy the noises, but knowing the others were in the dorm kept him from hearing the music of his angel to the extent he preferred. It didn’t hinder his thrusts, determination growing and more powerful thrusts used to slam him deep into your wet pussy.

He pushed you back until your back hit the mattress once more, the idol settling between your spread legs. His hands held your knees back, your feet left floating in air to flop around with each sloppy thrust. Not having anything to hold, your arms extended up above your head, Taeyong having a perfect view of your blissful face and bouncing breasts. The sight of your tits jiggling with every thrust he delivered made his mouth water, wanting to lean forward to attach to them, slathering them with love. 

But he focused on you. He knew you were tired. He was too. He didn’t want to drag out this love making session too long, but he wanted to give you a release. Hell, he wanted a release too, otherwise he wouldn’t be sleeping long that night. His head was spinning with ecstasy, your body burning with love and passion.

He panted, pistoning himself furiously into you. “You feel so good,” he let out as a gasp. “God, I love you so much.”

You couldn’t respond. The tip of his cock kept hitting the sweet spot into you because of the altered angle he was fucking you at. He managed to slide deep into you, directed towards your g-spot. Combined with the pulsing of his cock against your already tight, wet walls, you were a mess. Your core tightened, back arching. You were struggling to withhold as many noises as you could, though many moans, groans and whines filled his room, mixing with the loud slap of skin on skin from your lower halves. 

You both felt the fire. Your walls were convulsing around his large shaft, while his cock throbbed, ready to explode. Your stomachs coiled, burning away quickly before the final snap. Taeyong’s trusts were growing sloppier, never one losing their edge. He kept pushing until he could no longer see straight, blinking rapidly to keep his sight clear.

He eventually collapsed forward, placing a determined kiss to your lips. The hug of your walls was too much for him, and his seed exploded out in strands of white. His cream painted your inner walls in heated juice, slowing thrusts allowing each milky strand to shoot out, coating every part of your pussy. The heat of his cum swirling around inside you made you own will break, one final clench of your stomach pushing your own release out. Your walls clung to him, juices leaking around him and mixing with his own droplets that spilled into you. Your core kept him tightly embraced, milking him until every last drop escaped. 

With him still burrowed deep inside you, you pulled him into another his, arms wrapped around his neck and tangling through his hair., nails scratching at his scalp. The man let out a breath of relief from the orgasm he had, melting into the sultry kiss. His body nearly collapsed on yours, your bodies rocking against each other happily. Your skin stuck together from the sweat produced from the rigorous activities, but you never minded being close to this man.

You loved him.

And you never wanted to give him up.

You fell asleep in his arms that night, not caring to dress or clean up. You were content enough just being with him, a much-needed restful night shared after the successes you had that one day. 

~

Decorated white shoes squeezed their way down the hall, destination engraved in the owner’s mind. As soon as he got the text, he didn’t need to be told where to go. It was too often he found himself headed in that way after practice or recording. It was like another home to him at this point. And when the door came into view, Taeyong couldn’t help but to smile widely, despite his confused curiosity of why he was facing the practice room.

Your practice room.

He expected to find you dancing when he walked in. He always did. And when you told him not to rush because you knew he was working on writing a new song for his upcoming solo album, he thought you would be passing the time in ways you knew how to - dancing to random songs and singing along in the same voice he fell in love with forever ago. 

He was surprised to find you standing in the middle of the room, no music playing, and no shock on your face to see him walk in. You were waiting for him, grinning madly. He inwardly smiled at your appearance, the simple joggers and tank top matching with the shoes he designed for you that were wearing with age. It was nearing a year since you started wearing them and wearing them daily took their toll on the shoes. 

His were the same way, after all. 

You rocked back and forth, hands behind your back, waiting for him to enter and approach you. He did just as you thought, placing his bag down before making his way over to you. Arms instantly encircled your waist, your feet leaving the ground when he lifted you up. Your arms found their way around his neck, hugging him close and weaving your digits through the strands of hair on the back of his head without a second thought. His lips pressed to yours in a succulent embrace, keeping the kiss short but sweet.

“You rang, my sweet?” he teased, placing you down.

“I did. I’m glad you were able to come so quick too. Because I don’t know how long I could contain myself on this.”

Taeyong hummed at you, tracing his fingers along your sides. “So, something really good is happening then? Otherwise you wouldn’t be this excited about something.”

“Something great is happening,” you hummed. “Take a guess!”

The idol pouted. “You know I hate guessing games,” he pouted. “Just tell me, baby.”

“You’re such a spoil sport,” you huffed. “Well fine then. I had a meeting with Lee Soo Man today.”

“Oh? What happened?” he asked curiously. 

“I’m getting to it! Calm down!” you teased. “You know how I’ve been a rookie for about a year now?” 

“Yeah?”

“Well… I guess you can say I’m not a rookie anymore.”

Taeyong blinked one, then twice, before his smile grew, eyes twinkling with delight. “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re telling me?”

“I don’t know. What are you thinking?”

“Are you…” he paused to wet his lips. “Are you going to be debuting with a group?” 

You nodded happily, tears begging to prickle the corner of your eyes from overwhelming joy. His smile grew larger than you thought possible, picking you up and spinning around.

“Oh my god. You’re debuting?” he screamed. “You’re really debuting!”

“Yeah,” you cried, burying your head in his neck. Taeyong ceases his spins, hugging your koala-like form tightly to him. “I’m really debuting, Yong. I’m really an idol now.”

“I knew you could do it,” he whispered, not bothering to wipe his own tears of joy. “God, I’m so proud of you. I knew you would make it one day and look where you are now. You’re at the top, baby.”

“It’s all thanks to you,” you told him, moving your head and kissing him softly. “You kept me from never giving up. You encouraged me to be my best and I’m here because you believed in me.”

“It was all you, Y/N,” he mused, kissing you sweetly before placing you down. “You never gave up.”

“I owe it to the best man in the world knowing my worth and giving me that push though. I owe it to the best man for seeing himself in me and knowing I would regret everything if I gave up. I owe it to him for loving me and helping push me to be my best.”

“Don’t flatter me,” he joked.

“I meant Donghae.”

Taeyong blew a raspberry at you before speaking back up. “So, do I get any other details besides you are debuting? Like when? What position? Does your group have a name?”

“How about I give you a yes to everything,” you joked, tapping his nose.

“Well, out with it!”

“Impatient young man,” you laughed. “Well, I’m pleased to announce to you, and only you for now because I was allowed to share this with you, that I will be the main dancer and lead vocal for a new girl group,” you told him. Taeyong gaped.

“Really. That’s so-”

“That’s not all,” you cut him off with a smile. “I’m also the leader of said girl group.”

“Oh my god,” he let out. “I’m so proud of you, Y/N! But you’re not telling me the name. What is my beautiful girl going to be the leader of?”

You grinned, blushing brightly. “Well, it’s been in talks for a while, but I will be joining your family.”

He blinked. “Wha-”

“You are the leader of NCT 127. And I will be joining you as the leader of the new NCT girl subgroup - NCT G.”

He gaped, eyes growing wide. “You mean…”

“I’m joining the NCT family with you.”

He let out a low sob, hugging you close again. You clung to him, petting the back of his head as his face buried in your neck. “You’re doing it, baby.”

“I am, and I couldn’t ask for a better group to be part of.”

He faced you, wet tears along his cheeks. But his smile was vibrant. “Well, welcome to the family, Y/N. We’re glad to have you.”

You grinned, wrapping yourself in his embrace. “I’m glad to be with you guys, forever and always. I’m glad I can be by your side through all of this, Taeyong. But you know, if I’m glad about anything, I really am glad that I never gave up on this dream because if I did, I wouldn’t be here with you.”

“Well, I’m never giving you up,” he joked.

“You better not.” 

NCTzens Tag: @brien-odylan​, @goldenmndes​, @belleknows​

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Five Fics Friday: April 10/20

SPECIAL EASTER WEEKEND EDITION: FIFTY FICS FRIDAY

Hey, everyone!!

Well, I asked on my Twitter and here if y’all wanted to see a special edition 5FF for the Long Weekend since we’re all stuck inside (and some of you stuck with family I’m sure you’d like to avoid or are just tired of seeing), and it was a unanimous YES, because who doesn’t love to curl up all weekend with a good book or fanfic??

So here we are: Fifty fics either pulled out of my ass, recently read, recently bookmarked, or recently Marked for Later! Each section has a count so you know how many are in that section (and it’s for myself when I go to double check the count, LOL). I hope you guys enjoy these!! <3 Love you all, and happy reading :)

As always, read-more will appear on the third reblog. Sorry mobile, please don’t hate me :(

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@johnlockficclub APRIL NOMINATIONS (5)

A Beginner's Guide to Apiology. by VictoryCandescence (M, 10,952 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement AU || Friendship, Love, Bees & Beekeeping, Old Age, Dreamy Sexytimes, Angst, Soulmates, Grumpy Sherlock, Magical Realism) – John and Sherlock meet for the first time as old men in Sussex. (to read)

Through the Clouds by Mazarin221b (E, 20,004 w., 6 Ch. || Retirement, Sussex, Bees, Home Improvement, First Time, Romance) – Sherlock takes a remarkably early retirement at 47, and convinces John that a change of pace would do them both good. They buy an old cottage on the South Downs, and exchange their nonstop life in Baker Street for quiet contemplation, bee studies, and book writing. They might go completely insane, but sometimes it takes stepping outside of the life you're living to find the life you want. Part 1 of Through The Clouds (“WINNER” fic)

The Winter Garden by Callie4180 (T, 31,213 w., 13 Ch. || Post-S4, Retirement, Christmas, Slow Burn, Grown-Up Rosie, Parenthood, Rosie’s Cat, Angst with Happy Ending, Holidays, Beekeeping, Magical Realism, Sherlock POV, Sherlock’s Violin, Future Fic, Sussex, Honey, Magical Healing Honey, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Scar, First Kiss, Touching, Mycroft is Dying) – As Sherlock nears the end of his career, he's given the gift of a cottage in Sussex. The honey from the beehives out back is amazing. Almost...magical.

Where Else Would I Be? by cwb (E, 34,910 w., 10 Ch. || Retirementlock, Domestic Fluff, Falling in Love, Parentlock, Fluff and Smut, Reminiscing) – John and Sherlock's five-year-old granddaughter spends the weekend with them in Sussex. Sherlock happily indulges her whims, and John takes care of them while quietly revisiting the past thirty years of their lives together.

Crimson Hymns by brilliantlyburning (E, 48,982 w., 9 Ch. || Post-S3/TAB, Angst,  Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Drug Addiction, Unhealthy Coping Methods, Demisexual Sherlock, Boxing, Pining, Sensory Processing Issues, Drug Use, First Kiss / Time, BDSM, Mary is Not Good, Parentlock, Proposal, Happy Ending, Beekeeping, Violence, References to Addiction, Poetry) – He laid his head over John’s heart, eyes level with his silver-rough scar, and listened to the crimson hymns beating beneath the surface. He imagined flowers blooming in his own chest: veins weaving intricate patterns on petals of thin muscle engorged with blood, sinew for stems and tendons for roots—the flowers would be poppies, maybe (addictive) or foxglove (deadly yet useful)—twining gleaming blood-red around the porcelain bone of his ribs. In his mind’s eye the gruesome bouquet all tied together on the left side of his chest, the stems bound together in heartstrings and the flowers fed by the rhythmic contraction of ventricles. It’s yours, he imagined saying to John—from the vena cava to the mitral valve to the arteries it is yours.— Or, the Love Song of W. Sherlock S. Holmes. (to read)

RECENT RE-READS (5)

Five Times John Watson Remained Oblivious (K+, 1,154 w., 1 Ch. || Five and Ones, Romance, Friendship, Asexual Sherlock, Queerplatonic Relationship) – ...And one time he didn't. asexual!Sherlock/John.

Linger by orphan_account (E, 4,879 w., 1 Ch. || Lingerie, Fluff and Smut, BJ / HJ, Switchlock, Sherlock in Lingerie, Come Play, Dirty Talk, Anal Fingering, Anal/Oral, Implied Shower Sex, Neck Kissing) – Sherlock decides to surprise John after a somewhat stressful day at work.

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 5,034 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour, Three Garridebs) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

Iris by slashscribe (E, 11,948 w., 1 Ch. || Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Post-S3) – Sherlock does his best to make John happy when John comes back to 221B with his new baby after the events of Season 3, but Sherlock has a track record of getting things wrong in this area. This story is an exploration of their gradual shift from friends to lovers, told from Sherlock's perspective, full of a lot of pining and lack of emotional awareness.

Fucking Cake by Random_Nexus (E, 12,965 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-Slash, Humour/Crack, Inanimate Object Smut, Frottage, “For a Case” / “Experiment”, PWP / Kinky, Mutual Pining, Fluff) – Sherlock brings home a chocolate cake, John finds him about to have sex with said cake, then exceedingly weird hijinx ensue. Part 1 of "Fucking Baked Goods" - Sherlock BBC

NEW MFL’s THIS WEEK (11)

Guardian and Assistant by I_Have_No_Clue (M, 1,229 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Blow Jobs, PWP, Alpha Sherlock/Omega John, Mentions of Heat) – In this A/O world, ever Alpha, Beta, and Omega have a Type to them that describes the traits they have. John tries to figure out Sherlock's. Part 1 of the Types series

Bonneville Black by HollyShadow88 (E, 3,362 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Motorcycles, Motorcycle Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Semi-Public Sex) – John discovers that Sherlock has a motorbike. He also discovers that he finds Sherlock on a motorbike to be unreasonably attractive.

Code 221b by whitchry9 (T, 6,528 w., 11 Ch. || S1 Canon Compliant, Medical, Paramedics, Hurt/Comfort, Outsider POV) – Sherlock Holmes is well known to the paramedics of London. So when John Watson comes into the picture, it seems like a fantastic solution. Someone would take care of Sherlock and prevent all those problems. Of course, they didn't think about what would happen if John was hurt. (They really should have.)  Part 1 of the The Patron Saint of Idiots series

Permanent Fixture by vitruvianwatson (E, 18,836 w., 9 Ch || Post-S4, Parentlock, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, They’re Good Parents, Blushing Sherlock, First Kiss/Time, Explicit Consent, Sexual Content) – Now, as Rosie sat curled up against Sherlock’s side, John watched and wondered exactly how he had ended up here. Domesticity had never suited him before, not at any point in his life. His disastrous marriage had been proof of that. But somehow, here in the warmth and safety of 221B Baker Street, here with Sherlock Holmes reading medical jargon to his daughter, Sherlock’s bony feet nudging against his leg, John couldn’t imagine anyplace that would make him happier.

Sex Shop Quartet Series by testosterone_tea (E, 28,180+ w. across 3 works || Series WiP || First Kiss/Time, POV John, Sex Toys, Sex Talk, Anal Play, Anal Beads, Anal Fingering, Awkward Sexual Situations, Rimming, Inexperienced Sherlock, Oral Sex, Developing Relationship, Love Confessions, PWP, Bondage, Handcuffs, Praise Kink, BDSM, Kink Negotiation, Edgeplay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgasm Denial, Ice / Wax Play, Blindfolds, Emotional Love Making, Teabagging, Riding Crops, Impact Play, Intercrural Sex, Roleplay, Spanking, Collars) – Sherlock goes undercover at a sex shop but finds he has no idea what any of the toys are for. Cue John Watson, awkward sexual conversations and some unfortunate incidents involving too much plug and not enough lube. But all's well that ends well and Sherlock gets the best happy ending of all.

Roll Away Your Stone by foxxcub (E, 39,463 w., 1 Ch. || Downey Holmes || Boarding School AU) – Seventeen-year-old John Watson is set to finish his final year of school with a flourish, until the headmaster assigns John as a "tutor" to an arrogant, yet brilliant new student named Sherlock Holmes. Holmes is not about to be put in his place by this popular rugby football player with the too-blue eyes, and John isn't going to let this impulsive fifteen-year-old get away with anything. Neither expects to become friends, but a series of unexpected events and a possible murder mystery bring them closer together than either of them thought possible.

I Believe in Sherlock Holmes by Ranowa (T, 63,038 w., 10 Ch. || S3 Fix It, Hurt Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Homeless Network, Alcohol Abuse, No Mary, Bit-Not-Good/Angry John, Protective Mycroft, Angst with Happy Ending, Non-Linear Narrative, Major Character Injury, Recovery, Forgiveness, Sherlock’s a Mess) – John's been angry at Sherlock since the day he turned up wearing a fake mustache and a tuxedo. He's still angry, even as he moves back into 221B, and he never hesitates to let Sherlock know it.One day, Sherlock stops saying sorry, and walks out instead.One day, Sherlock wakes up handcuffed in the boot of a car, and John doesn't know, because John's been angry at him for so long he's forgotten that he's not the only one that's hurting.

I'm coming home, John. -SH Series by Ranowa (M, 67,247 w. across 3 works || Post-TRF, Angry John, Idiots in Love, No Mary, Drug Use/Substance Abuse, Emotional Rollercoaster, Violence, Implied/Referenced Torture, PTSD Sherlock, Recovery, Sherlock’s Violin, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Asexual Sherlock) – In the two years after Sherlock throws himself off the roof of St. Bart's, crunches into the pavement below, and dies in John's arms, John starts texting.He doesn't know that his text messages are being read.

Roommates are for little people by alexxphoenix42 (E, 69,042 w., 14 Ch. || Teen/Unilock || Forced to Share a Bed, Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Fake Relationship, Sherlock is a Prick, Drinking, Inadvertent Drug Use, Family Wedding, Footballer John / Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Frottage, Slow Burn, Mild Dub Con, Cuddling While Sleeping, Slight Homophobia, Posh Boy, Dirty Dancing, Endearments, Nosy FAmily, Bathing Together, Mild Angst, UST/RST, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff) – John was looking forward to seeing his friends back at uni, but a new year brings new complications, not the least of which is a dorm room with only one bed, and a stroppy roommate with an utterly spectacular arse. God, John doesn't need the headache.

Gold Rush by ShirleyCarlton (E, 71,783 w., 17 Ch. || Post S3 / No Mary, Friends to Lovers, Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse, First Kiss, Case Fic, Slow Burn, Alternating POV, Switchlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Marriage Proposal, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abduction) – John has divorced Mary and pops round to 221B one evening to find Sherlock in the middle of a case. As Sherlock tries to find the identity of a young woman’s stalker, John realises he can no longer deny his feelings for Sherlock – which then, to their befuddlement, turn out to be mutual. Shy kisses and tentative embraces ensue. But will Sherlock be able to cast off a shadow from his past that he thinks might prevent John from wanting to stay?

Scheherezade by sgam76 (G, 197,576 w., 45 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF/Pre-TSo3, PTSD Sherlock, Implied/Referenced Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Humour, Protective John, Papa Lestrade, Big Brother Mycroft, BAMF John, BAMF Sherlock, Aftermath of Serbia, Past Child Abuse, Childhood Memories, Drunk Sherlock, Canon Compliant, Suicidal Thoughts / Attempt) – Sherlock is home, he and John are returning to cases, and all's right with the world--right? But a series of minor mishaps and injuries makes two things very clear to his friends and family: first, Sherlock's time away wasn't the grand adventure everyone has assumed it was; and second, that time has left Sherlock with a legacy that's bleeding into his life today. Sherlock is Not Okay, and it's not going away. Part 1 of the Scheherezade 'verse series

POSTED THIS YEAR [WiP’s & Full] (19)

A Bowl of Comfort (Store-Bought is Fine) by tepidspongebath (T, 763 w., 1 Ch. || Food, Comfort, Domesticity, Fluff) – “When did you last eat?” “What day is it?” “Oh, for god’s sake - you can’t keep skipping meals like this, Sherlock.” “It’s Lent.” “And since when do you care about Lent?” “Since you get chocolate eggs at Easter.” (to read)

End of the Curve by doctor_not_your_girlfriend (T, 833 w., 1 Ch. || COVID-19, One Shot, Medical Realism, Major Illness, Recovery, Optimism, Disability, Needles) – July, 2021. Mycroft has a special delivery for Sherlock. Inspired by Proving A Point by elldotsee, J_Baillier. (to read)

Love Is A Smoke by J_Baillier (T, 3,617 w., 4 Ch. || Heavy Angst, Pining, Romance, MCD) – It's spring in 2036. John and Sherlock are no longer together. Sherlock attempts to cope — or doesn't. (to read)

A Study in Beard by Loveismyrevolution (T, 3,810 w., 1 Ch. || Established Relationship, Fluff and Humour, Experiments, Beards, Idiots in Love, Quarantine) – Sherlock has to face the consequences of using up all of their shaving foam. Which turns out to be more fun than expected. Boys being boys, nothing can go without a challenge. Although, being isolated presents a problem. How will they determine the winner? Part 2 of the Hairy Situations at 221B series (to read)

Isolated by CarmillaCarmine (G, 3,926, 3/4 Ch. || WiP || Quarantine From Virus, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Bi-Panic, Cuddling & Snuggling, Coming Out, Bathing/Washing, Bubble Bath, Kissing) – Due to an ongoing pandemic, John and Sherlock find themselves isolated at 221B. (to read)

Sherlock's Solution by PipMer (T, 4,125 w., 1 Ch, || Fluff, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Isolation/Quarantine, Pining, Miscommunication, First Kiss) – Sherlock and John are stuck in quarantine. Against all expectations, John is the one who goes stir-crazy first. Sherlock has a unique solution to the problem. (to read)

The Unexpected Threat by J_Baillier (T, 4,283 w., 1 Ch. || Military AU / Pacific Rim Fusion || Established Relationship, Medical Conditions, Coronaviruses, Doctor John, Bratty Sherlock, Romance, Science Fiction, Futuristic Medicine, Ghost Drifting AKA Telepathy, Medical Hurt/Comfort, Sexual Healing) – The kaiju are not the only threat to the security and well-being of the staff of PPDC's Chard's Rift base. It's the year 2050, and a coronavirus epidemic sweeping the planet has reached The Azores. Part 4 of the At The Edge of Our Hope (to read)

Quarantine by wendymarlowe (T, 6,444+ w., 20/? Ch. || WiP || COVID-19, Forced Isolation / Quarantine, John’s Blog, Humour) – John and Sherlock are stuck at 221B together due to coronavirus concerns. Sherlock slowly drives John barmy. (to read)

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) –  When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

Attentions, Experiments, Oddnesses by hubblegleeflower (E, 6,383 w., 1 Ch. || Friends to Lovers, Experiments, Frottage, Mutual Masturbation, Kissing, First Time) – John is behaving oddly, and Sherlock hopes it means what he thinks it means, but he has several theories and could well be missing some of the facts. (to read)

Casualty by Silvergirl (E, 12,051 w., 4 Ch. || Canon Compliant Until T6T, Mary’s Dead, Trauma/Comfort, John’s a Good Friend, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss/Time, Sherlock Learns Teamwork, Parentlock) – Sherlock renders assistance at a hit-and-run and is left deeply shocked. When the accident turns into a case, John moves back in to 221b to help—and finds that Sherlock has way oversold his image as an emotionless thinking machine. (to read)

The Night Riviera from Paddington to Penzance and Back Again by  Iwantthatcoat (M, 12,918 w., 5 Ch. || Post-S4, Hurt/Comfort Emotional Hurt/Comfort, BAMF John, Devil's Foot Adaptation, Hallucinations, Oral Sex) – Mrs Hudson has decided her boys need a little vacation together (after the events of S4) away from London and has booked them an inordinately (per Sherlock) long train ride from Paddington Station to Penzance. (to read)

A Gossamer Dream by CarmillaCarmine (E, 15,985 w., 4 Ch. || Writer/Teacher AU || First Meetings, Friends to Lovers, Writer John / Teacher Sherlock, Fluff, London, Holding Hands, Online Friendship / Romance, Phone Sex, Anal Sex, Happy Ending) – Sherlock had never realised one could care so much about someone they'd never met in person. Now he is about to meet the friend with whom he's been chatting online for months and his anticipation is reaching a crescendo. (to read)

Contrition by sussexbound (E, 18,556+ w., 5/? Ch. || WiP || Post-S4/TFP Didn’t Happen, Rosie Doesn’t Exist, T6T/TLD is Canon, Year After TLD, Light BDSM, Soft Dom Sherlock / Sub John, Punishment, Light Bondage, Light Masochism / No Sadism, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Tenderness, Aftercare, Forgiveness, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Mutual Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Anal Fingering, Rimming, Frottage, Communication, Sexual Negotiation, Sexual Tension, Spanking, Head Injury, Anal Sex) – “You’ve been tense ever since we got back, itching for a fight, all your usual tells, but why…?” The truth strikes like lightning. “Oh… Oh! You’re not angry at me. Not this time. Well—maybe a little. But mostly, mostly you’re angry at yourself. Why? For falling behind? For not being there in time. For not taking Wilkes down fast enough?” Sherlock waves a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t really matter.” He lifts a finger to his swollen cheek and cut eyebrow. “You blame yourself for this. And you offered to fix it. But I wouldn’t let you, and… But that’s not what you really want, anyway, is it?” John looks stunned, a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming lorry, frozen, waiting for the lethal strike. “You don’t want me to let you help. At least not right away. No. What you want, what you really want is—punishment.” (to read)

Feeling Seen by jadztone (E, 30,177 w., 9 Ch. || Ballet!Sherlock / Rugby!John, Demisexuality, Virgin John, Experienced Sherlock, Toplock, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Background Molly/Irene & Greg/Sally) – Rugby player John is starting over at a new university, with the help of friends Molly and Bill. Few people know that John is demisexual, but ballet dancer Sherlock Holmes deduces right away that he has no interest in sex unless he’s fallen in love. John finds this strange genius intriguing and would like to get to know him, but Sherlock has a self-cultivated reputation for only wanting casual sex. John has reason to believe that’s not really true, but he’s not sure he wants to risk his twice-fractured heart to find out. (to read)

Sanguineous Serendipity by CarmillaCarmine (E, 34,783 w., 14 Ch. || Vampire AU || Alternate First Meeting, Turning a Character, Vampire Sherlock, Captain John, POV John, Feeding, Blood Drinking, Crossdressing Sherlock, Genderfluid Character, Sherlock in Heels, Transphobic Behaviour, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Soulmates, Romance, Happy Ending) – Vampire Sherlock meets a dying John in a field hospital in Afghanistan and gives him a whole new life. (to read)

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Next Right: Welcome to Westbound Rest Area 818 by elwinglyre (E, 59,874+ w., 13/15 Ch. || WiP || American Unilock AU || Bunk Beds, Anonymous Sex, Homophobia, Closeted John, Roommates, Angst with Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, Music, Rape/Non-Con, Hurt John, BAMF John) – Sherlock Holmes dreams of escape from his smothering family and space to breathe. Studying chemistry at the University of Michigan, he's almost far enough away to fill his lungs. Almost. While John Watson dreams of being a doctor, he also dreams of being with another man. John knows that with hard work and study, he can make the first a reality, but he's certain the second can never be. Until a secret encounter in the dark at Rest Area 818 changes everything. When Sherlock meets his new roommate, John Watson, he sees a man in the closet. Sherlock hides from no one. Except from his own family, a detective inspector who wants his evidence returned, and his secret encounter at Rest Area 818. Thank you to recently folded who lovingly beta’d chapters 1-5 and helped with an important plot point that deeply enriches this story. Also thank you to hotshoeagain for beta'ing the rest of the story.Setting late 1970s, Michigan, USA. POV third person alternates between John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. (to read)

Thermocline by J_Baillier (M, 83,557 w., 14 Ch. || Scuba Diving AU || Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Marine Archaeology, Asexual Sherlock, Horny John, Relationship Drama, Technical/Scuba/Wreck Diving, Slow Burn, Underwater /  Medical Peril, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, John POV, Protective John, Body Appreciation) – John "Five Oceans" Watson — technical dive instructor, dive accident analyst and weapon of mass seduction — meets recluse professor of maritime archaeology Holmes. As they head out to a remote archipelago off the coast of Guatemala to study and film its shipwrecks for a documentary, will sparks fly or fizzle out?

ANYTHING GOES – JOHNLOCK (5)

Talk by illwick (E, 6,364 w., 1 Ch. || Dirty Talk, John’s Giant Junk, PWP, Light BDSM, Size Kink, Oral / Anal, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Rel.) – Sherlock was never much for dirty talk... until an unexpected visit yields unexpected results. Part 20 of Unwind

Ghost Stories by SwissMiss (M, 22,256 w., 1 Ch. || Pining, Holmes Family, Christmas, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Bed Sharing, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, First Time) – Sherlock's parents think he and John are a couple. They might be onto something.

Pater Noster by SilentAuror (E, 34,256 w., 2 Ch. || Case Fic, HLV/S3 Fix It Fic, Family Trauma, Sherlock POV, Villain Mary) – During the autumn that John is staying at Baker Street again after Sherlock was shot, he ruminates over the similarity between Sherlock's shot and the one that killed his father when he was fifteen. Cold case meets series 3 fix-it. Part I takes place entirely within His Last Vow, Part II takes place starting at the end of HLV and continues after.

The Homecoming Series by sussexbound (M, 51,744 w. across 12 stories, WIP || Domestics, PTSD, Love Confessions, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddling, Jealousy, Family Issues) – Sometimes home is all you need. After three years of horror, betrayals, and crushing loss, John and Sherlock find their way back home to one another, and together find new footing in a world that has changed forever.

The Green Blade by verityburns (T, 72,929 w., 15 Ch. || Case Fic, Bromance) – As a serial killer hits the headlines, the police are out of their depth and the next victim is out of time. With faith in Sherlock Holmes at an all time low, this is a case which will push loyalties to the limit...

ANYTHING GOES – INEFFABLE HUSBANDS (5)

All Roads Lead To You by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel (T, 2,549 w., 2 Ch.|| Pining Crowley, Oblivious Aziraphale, Love Confessions, Feelings, Resolved Romantic Tension, Rescuing, Happy Ending, Snake Crowley, Magic Bracelets, POV Aziraphale) – It had taken Aziraphale quite some time to find the presence he had been looking for, but here he was, in the Reptile House of the London Zoo. As an angel, Aziraphale shouldn’t have been finding amusement in the discomfort of another, but he couldn’t help but do so as he was glared at by a very familiar snake. “Oh my dear,” Aziraphale murmured, “how ever did you end up in this situation?”

The slowest moving object in the universe by chamyl (G, 4,996 w., 1 Ch. || God POV, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Beach Day, Games, Light Humour, Tenderness, Embarassed Crowley, Soft Idiots, First Kiss, Love Confessions) – Crowley and Aziraphale have had feelings for each other for a very long time. It takes a date at the lake and a round of 36 Questions That Lead To Love to give them the final push.

Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture (M, 10,134 w., 1 Ch. || Mutual Pining, First Time, Love Confessions, Body Swap, Wing Kink, Idiots In Love) – Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends? Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect?

Souls In Creation by Dragonfruit112 (NR [M], 23,110 w., 6 Ch. || Aziraphale was Raphael, Hurt/Comfort, Angst With Happy Ending, True Angel Forms, Memory Loss/Amnesia, Seraph!Aziraphale, Cherub!Crowley, Moments of Time, Pining Aziraphale, Deaths, Disasters Through History, Whump, Taking Care of Each Other, Friendship, Mates to Friends to Mates, Bed Sharing, Sick Crowley, Healing Powers, BAMF Aziraphale) – They knew each other before the Fall. They loved each other before the Fall. They were creation's first soul mates. But the Fall changed everything, and now Aziraphale is forced to live in a world where only he remembers their shared past. Burdened by pain and grief, he hides himself under the guise of a clumsy Principality until he can make his love remember once more. Only, he doesn't know how long that'll take.

Any Way You Want It by LieutenantLiv (M, 27,585 w., 5 Ch. || Holidays, Slow Burn, Fluff, First Time, Eventual Smut, Swimming, Dreams of Dancing, Kissing in the Rain, Self-Esteem Issues, Misunderstandings, Crying Love Confessions, Soft Crowley, Clingy Crowley, Virgin Aziraphale, Romance) – Saving the world is exhausting work. With Heaven and Hell off their backs, it seems as good a time as any for Crowley and Aziraphale to take a proper break. Neither one of them predicts the direction their holiday takes.Who'd have thought that sharing a cottage in Scotland would be quite so romantic?