my name is ash! i've been writing for a while on @inspired-by-the-music. i like and follow from @inspired-by-the-music-main.
about dream-au-archive
i've been writing about many groups for years, but nct is a special sort of muse for me! :]
i want to create a place for my works where other people can use my concepts as inspiration for their own fics! so think of this as my nct home base + a free use archive for your own fics. lmk if you wanna be added to my taglist. & please tag me if you use any of these ideas so i can see what you make :]
full stories
broken melodies ♪ ༘⋆
status: in progress (no set update schedule!)
format: social media au
pairing: singer/songwriter reader x jaemin, feat. chaotic ex donghyuck
additional cast: nct dream + ningning (aespa)
synopsis: chenle promotes his strip mall with a reality show, and yn is the star! in the aftermath of her breakup with annoying neighbor/streamer haechan, she reconnects with her teenage summer love/the internet's boyfriend, jaemin! neither boy fully appreciates the danger of being the subject one of her breakup songs, tbh.
masterlist
my first & last ♡
status: in development
format: social media au
pairing: jaemin x reader; mark x winter; jeno x ningning
additional cast: nct dream + aespa
synopsis: yn's fiancee, jaemin, is a wedding photographer. he doesn't mean to be flaky. he just... can't sit still! he doesn't mean to come between you and giselle. it just... happens! anyway, it's hard to promise forever when even your best friends think it's doomed.
for you: rewrite the stars
status: in progress (no set update schedule!)
format: written, series of one shots
pairing: jaemin x reader (endgame); jaehyun x reader and yuta x reader subplots
note: based on my for you series, posted on @inspired-by-the-music. yn was originally an oc named lei... and she will always be lei to me, lowkey :]
synopsis: yn is the only girl in nct, having debuted in nct 127 and nct dream. at the center of 127's reverse harem and dream's wendy to jaemin's peter pan, yn can rarely tell which relationships are for show and which might thrive when the cameras turn away.
short stories
why her? (jaemin or jisung choose your own ending) - smau
note: this is y/n and donghyuck’s backstory for my ongoing smau “broken melodies”
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warmth. that’s the sensation you’ve come to associate with donghyuck.
you first felt it when you pounded your fist against his locked apartment door. you had to knock for a solid five minutes before he would step away from his video game.
while you rubbed your blistered knuckles, donghyuck flung the door open. he was still wearing his wireless headset, so everyone in his stream chat heard the first words he ever said to you: “damn, new girl. you don’t have to beat the door down to meet me. it’s a good thing you’re hot, or i’d be annoyed.”
when he looked you up and down, you suddenly felt stupid for storming over in your pajamas. he laughed at your fuzzy pink bunny slippers. he flicked at one of their ears with his bare foot.
crossing your arms, you took a giant step backward. in place of ‘hello,’ or ‘what’s your name?’ or ‘i’m y/n,’ you flatly informed him, “in case you’re unaware: it’s almost two a.m.”
donghyuck blinked as if to ask why that was his problem. “so?”
“so, you were screaming. you’ve been screaming at least since i got home at nine.” then, your frustration boils over. so, you add, “you’ve been screaming every night this week.”
he raised his eyebrows. “so?”
“so—” you force a smile like that might sway his invisible stream audience to your side—“i’ve gotten maybe an hour of sleep since i became your neighbor.”
his eyebrows drew closer together. he repeated, “so?”
when the corner of his mouth flicked upward, you realized that he enjoyed getting under your skin. when he leaned against the doorway, you thought it was likely that he spent every night screaming at his game so you’d come and give him a piece of your mind. maybe that’s what bothered you most about hyuck, even from the very beginning. he was wired to play the types of games your best self swore you’d rather avoid. he was wired to play the types of games your worst self was born to win.
back then, as you stood under the moon, you held a clear picture of who you wanted to be. and she wasn’t somebody who would argue with a barefoot big-mouthed stranger.
so, you said, “forget it.” without another word, you walked back to your apartment and locked the door.
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warmth. that’s the sensation you’ve come to associate with donghyuck.
you felt it in the best way months after your first meeting when, against your better judgment and mark and renjun’s lamentations, you admitted that you didn’t hate hyuck half as much as you hoped your songs written at two a.m. hinted.
by then, donghyuck had said, “let me take you out” enough that it didn’t really warrant a response. so, when you finally said, “alright,” it was like the world stopped turning. chenle cackled at donghyuck’s slack-jawed, stunned-silent reaction. jisung dropped his tray of freshly baked cinnamon rolls, and renjun didn’t even try to pretend that his very real tears were shed for the lost pastries. by choice, mark was the last to learn that you had agreed to go out with donghyuck and enjoyed it.
“i just don’t get it,” mark muttered whenever donghyuck was late to his shifts at the music store where the three of you worked.
most of the time, you pretended not to hear. forcing silence with one of your best friends was easier than explaining that you learned hyuck’s warmth doesn’t always burn.
for a time, his warmth was his hand in yours, skin calloused where his drumsticks had rubbed his fingers raw but soft everywhere else. for a time, his warmth was his arms tight around your waist, and his fingers in your hair, and his lips on yours, and his breath in your mouth, and his tongue against yours, and his voice in your ears and your mind and your heart long after you said goodnight.
and sometimes you wished that a time with donghyuck was all time. and that was—that is— a big deal for somebody like you who spent too much time looking back at a long lost summer love with a boy who probably didn’t even remember your name anymore.
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warmth. that’s the sensation you’ve come to associate with donghyuck.
you felt it in the worst way just months after feeling it in the best way. if anybody asked, you’d pretend that you don’t remember what you were doing when those texts trickled in. if anybody asked, you’d never admit that you were trying and failing to convince yourself that “love” wasn’t the word for what you felt for him before those texts trickled in.
hyuck: hey so.
hyuck: i’ve been thinking, and something seems off with us.
hyuck: not like in a “you did something wrong” way.
hyuck: it’s more like something isn’t fitting.
hyuck: you’re one of my favorite people. and i’ll always be so glad you gave me a chance to show you i’m not just a loud mouth.
hyuck: we haven’t really gotten far off the ground, so it’s probably best to end it here instead of pretending we’re something we’re not.
every inch of you burned. your face, your neck, your chest, your gut, down to your toes. when you first felt that burning sensation in your knuckles after pounding on his door, you couldn’t have imagined that you would grow so attached to him. you couldn’t have imagined that you would hand him the power to break your heart.
when you looked the messages over, you suddenly felt stupid for ever storming over to his locked door in your pajamas. or maybe you felt stupid for letting him see the parts of you that you knew were better saved for your long lost summer love—even if he was nothing but a memory.
finally, after it was painfully obvious that donghyuck wasn’t going to take his words back or play them off as cruel jokes or admit that they were just his cowardice talking, you replied.
y/n: is that really what you want?
if you’re feeling honest, you would admit that you held your breath, hoping that he would say no. you held your breath, hoping he would call himself an idiot with a laugh so you wouldn’t have to scream it in a song. you held your breath, hoping he would tell you he loved you so you wouldn’t have to feel like such a fool for thinking you loved him first.
hyuck: yeah i think so
hyuck: i want to be friends. and if we try to force it, maybe we’ll lose it.
you couldn’t think of anything to say. a part of you wished donghyuck had ended it with even an ounce of the vitriol you’ve packed into some of your songs imagining what it would’ve been like to love and lose somebody like him. then, maybe you could’ve swapped your barely-born undying love for a grudge without anybody noticing.
you couldn’t think of anything to say. so, you said nothing. so, you told yourself it would be okay if you never thought of anything else to say. besides, you didn’t think the person you wanted to be would stand around waiting by a locked door or beg for it to be opened.
jaemin takes your love for granted. that's what all your friends say. he knew that before his own friends started to lecture him about what it means for him to give you a forever love.
if jaemin takes a moment to count the minutes, hours, days, weeks he spends capturing the magic moments of somebody else's wedding instead of living by your side, a voice that sounds an awful lot like renjun's creeps into his mind to remind hjm that you deserve the world. most of the time, jaemin can dismiss that internal nagging voice with one quick roll of his eyes. he knows what you deserve. most of the time, jaemin doesn't doubt that he can give it to you.
but on days like today when you are separated by an ocean, when you decline all of his facetime requests because you're busy, when you only give a "haha" reaction to his latest text proposing a wedding date, jaemin's mind is tied in knots. his worst thoughts aren't narrated by renjun. instead, they're narrated by jaemin's college freshman self, the of himself who has known what it's like to lose your love.
you and jaemin been in love your whole lives. somehow, he has managed to wreck it only once, when he sabotaged everything with his fear of losing you to jaehyun. it wasn't an entirely irrational fear, jaemin still sometimes insists to jeno. in the few months that you weren't dating jaemin, you were dating jaehyun. and even when you came back to jaemin, it's not like your bridge to jaehyun was completely burned. now, jaehyun owns the arts center where you teach piano lessons. now, when jaemin reaches for a reason why you won't set a date for your wedding, the smallest darkest corner of his mind wonders if you're holding out for someone better, someone older, someone more stable, someone more present, someone like jaehyun.
"you're an idiot," giselle replies instantly whenever jaemin floats that idea in their text thread. but that's her response to everything jaemin says, so it's hard to take it to heart.
after jaemin loads all of his gear into his rental car, he sits behind the wheel. he has time before his gig starts, so he scrolls through his countless pictures of the two of you. maybe he could send one to remind you that you belong with him!
there's a picture of you as children. he's hanging upside down out of your treehouse and you holding him by the ankles; he could send that and write about how you still keep him grounded.
there's a bunch of pictures of the two of you from your first formal high school dance. you're both polished and perfect in the before pictures, but jaemin has always been partial to the after pictures because he thinks your lipstick looks even better all over his cheeks and neck and collar. he could send those and write that he can't wait to be home so you can kiss him again like you did after that dance. or he could write that as beautiful as you looked wearing your favorite color that night, you'll look even more beautiful wearing white on your wedding dress.
or maybe jaemin should pick something more recent. quickly, he scrolls past the college pictures. he still hates the reminders of your time apart. the last time he was home, he helped you bake treats for the art center's fundraiser. he made sure to take a bunch of pictures of you two in your matching pink polka dotted aprons. in all of the pictures, jaemin is smiling for the cameras but you--suddenly, jaemin realizes that you were smiling for him. his heart flutters, and his mouth goes dry, and he forgets whatever he might have written about wanting to lick chocolate off your lips next time you're in the kitchen together.
in your text thread, he begins to type: i think i've made myself homesick looking at pictures of us. whenever i'm gone on these jobs abroad, i tell myself that i'm doing what's best for us. i'm making money to support us. but i think if you told me you'd be happier if i worked closer to home, i'd never get on a plane again. i think if you told me we could set our wedding date when i get home, i'd find some way to get home yesterday. if any part of you thinks i take your love for granted, i'd try anything to show you that all my favorite moments of life are the ones when you loved me.
while jaemin is still texting, before he can press send, he receives a new message from you.
y/n: i bet you're getting ready for your gig now, so i've officially missed every chance to see your handsome face today 😔 if you're driving, that's definitely NOT an invitation to facetime me while you're on the road!! i'm home for the night, and i thought i should let you know that i hateeee how quiet is is when you're not here. maybe i don't tell you as much as i used to, jaem, but i will ALWAYS love you. i know that bc i literally have always loved you lol. i'm pretty sure i have pictures of us in diapers and in love.
memorizing your text after a reading it just once, jaemin facetimes you.
you answer with a smile. your smile quickly fades as you ask, "are you in the car?"
"i'm not driving!" jaemin clarifies quickly. "i'm about to go to work, but i just--" he comes within an inch of joking that he wanted to make sure you got to see his handsome face. but the sight of you makes something in his chest ache, so joking doesn't feel right. he asks, "what are the chances you'll marry me the second my flight lands tomorrow?"
jaemin is serious. he knows you must know that, but you laugh anyway. that smallest, darkest corner of his mind wants to pin this as proof that you're not ready to marry him or you'll never be ready to marry him. he tries to brush that off with a laugh.
"i doubt the airport is on the list of renjun-approved locations," you say matter-of-factly. then, you whisper, "but what renjun doesn't know won't hurt him."
while your smile makes jaemin's heart do cartwheels, the two of you trade daydreams about eloping at the airport tomorrow afternoon. mark will officiate because, surely, he has the authority to do that. jeno has to be there; he's the best man, after all. you figure your friends will riot if only your maid of honor, winter, is there. and even more than bemoaning an airport wedding, renjun would detest an airport wedding he wasn't invited to. and jisung would deny it, but he would cry it you got married without inviting him. so, within five minutes, your intimate airport elopement has evolved into a full-blown wedding ceremony!
all the while, jaemin knows that you deserve the real deal. jaemin knows that you deserve more than nostalgia and daydreams. and he has to believe that he's the one who can give that to you.
💿 now playing: "cowboy take me away" by the chicks
💿 playing next: "moon river" by audrey hepburn
𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘𖤣.
when you were kids, donghyuck must’ve begged you to run away about a million times. you remember that whenever days on the farm are a little too demanding, whenever you watch the sun setting from your old treehouse, whenever you catch the moon rising from the path in the orange orchard.
it’s not that you try to remember donghyuck every day. in fact, you tend to go days, weeks, months, without his name even crossing your mind in your wildest dreams. lately, though, with the sun setting earlier and earlier, you’ve wandered deep into the season of missing him.
setting your full basket of oranges down at your feet, you finally admit it in the quietest corner of your mind: since childhood, your heart must’ve engorged itself on your families’ prophecies about how you and donghyuck would grow up and get married. even though you always laughed at their certainty, even though you swore you could never marry a boy you’d bested at arm wrestling nine times out of ten, you must’ve loved him more than you child mind could comprehend.
why else, as a grown woman, would you find yourself daydreaming about the adult donghyuck returning to ask you to run away one more time? why else, as a grown woman, would you find yourself deliberately reshaping your daydream into one where the adult donghyuck returns from accomplishing his bigger and better things in the bigger and brighter city to settle down with you on the farm you used to call home? why else, as a grown woman, would you lay yourself down to sleep wondering if the adult donghyuck would still laugh if he heard you call him your hyuckleberry friend?
pairing: singer/songwriter reader x jaemin, feat. chaotic ex donghyuck
additional cast: nct dream + ningning (aespa)
synopsis: chenle promotes his strip mall with a reality show, and yn is the star! in the aftermath of her breakup with annoying neighbor/streamer haechan, she reconnects with her teenage summer love/the internet's boyfriend, jaemin! neither boy fully appreciates the danger of being the subject one of her breakup songs, tbh.
After the mirror (Doyoung) declares her the fairest of them all, the princess (Y/N) is lured out of her brother’s (Taeyong) protection by the huntsman (Yuta). She is found by the dwarves (Johnny, Winwin, Mark, Haechan), who show her what it is like to be valued for something more than her beauty. She is poisoned by a poisoned apple and falls into a deathlike sleep. The huntsman is blamed for the princess’s victimhood. The video closes on shocked reactions as the wishing well prince (Jaehyun) approaches her with true love’s first kiss.
i. You like him, don’t you?
Your POV
By age seventeen, you had not yet outgrown your childhood habit of staring after Sehun whenever your paths crossed under the same sun or moon. By age seventeen, you didn’t have the sense to hide your bleeding-heart admiration even though a.) somebody was always watching and b.) Haechan was always eager to run his big mouth.
“Noona, you’re staring,” Haechan accused, driving his elbow into your ribs. He started off loud—so loud that, at his voice, Sehun, Chanyeol, and Baekhyun turned around on their way to practice.
While you rushed to face the wall and lowered your head, Haechan hissed, “What will Jaemin think about you staring at senior idols?”
From his place in the doorway of the dance practice room, Yuta laughed. His arms were crossed tight over his chest. Clearly, he thought he looked cool. The worst part: he was right. You looked away because there was almost nothing worse than thinking and liking that Yuta looked like he walked off the page of some dark, gritty, gothic graphic novel.
You saw little point in dignifying Haechan with a response. He liked to put his nose into everything, especially the little matter of Jaemin’s not-so-secret crush on you. You were used to it. Still, you couldn’t help but glare at him. He yelped like you burned him.
Then, probably remembering your history of responding to his torments with physical force, Haechan bolted back into the practice room without another word. Yuta made just enough room for Haechan to pass.
Yuta’s eyes met yours for only a moment before you looked up, up, and away at the ceiling. Even that millisecond of eye contact emboldened him to speak to you. “You shouldn’t worry so much, Y/N. It’s cute that you have an unattainable crush! It makes you more human.”
You hoped Yuta couldn’t see that your ears were burning. You hoped to distract him by rolling your eyes. You said, "I didn't realize my humanity was in question.” Except you kind of did. Even in those pre-debut days, the word ‘idol’ felt like a magnifying glass or a stumbling block or something.
You tried to walk back into the practice room, but Yuta wouldn’t let you pass. He stretched an arm to block the doorway, so you cut your eyes at him.
You and Yuta never got along, you would admit if you were being honest. He was precisely the type of guy who made it hard to be the only girl in NCT. He liked to press your buttons just to see how many of your expressions he could unlock. He liked to push the envelope not because he actually wanted to be close to you but because he wanted to see you slip in defending your self-imposed self-defending dating ban. His casting as the Huntsman in our Snow White debut concept only encouraged him to pester me more.
“Move,” you demanded, forcing your face into a passionless expression—neither smile nor frown, neither laugh nor scowl. Sometimes, you thought that your interactions would end sooner if you just gave Yuta whatever reaction he wanted. Always, you thought nothing would make you more miserable than giving Yuta whatever he wanted.
Prying for something more explosive, Yuta said, “Some call you a princess—but that’s the agency branding. Others call you Super Junior’s kid—but that’s just figurative. Others call you Manager Kim’s daughter—and that’s literal. But when you stare after Sehun—”
Yuta’s jagged smile made your stomach twist and turn. Or maybe it was the sound of Sehun’s name that made you feel that way. Anyway, whether Yuta’s smile or Sehun’s name was the culprit—the floor slipped out from under you. And you couldn’t be seen falling, so you planted your feet shoulder width apart.
“You’re just a cute girl with a crush,” Yuta determined, looking you up and down.
You think he knew his words burned into you like a spotlight burns into the only person on stage. It was hard to like somebody who could burn you like that for his own sick pleasure. Maybe it was impossible.
“I wasn’t staring at anybody,” you argued far too fiercely to be taken seriously. You slipped into the room by ducking under Yuta’s arm.
You should have run to hide behind Taeyong. He was the only person who could stop Yuta in his tracks. Maybe you weren't really made to hide, though. So, you lingered by the door. You turned on your heel to tell Yuta, “And I don’t have a crush on anybody!”
Most of the guys were used to these shouting matches between you and Yuta. Nobody, not even Taeyong, looked up. Well, except Mark. Mark looked up.
Mark was born to be a pacifist, you think. But you dragged him into conflict without really meaning to. That’s not to say he was a fighter or anything. It’s just—Mark wasn’t above making a fool of himself to get Yuta off you back. You shook your head on your walk to Mark’s side.
“Make sure Jaemin doesn’t hear you say that!” Yuta fired at you. “It might break his kid heart.”
You opened your mouth to argue that Jaemin was only a year and a half your junior. In Yuta’s hands, though, any defense of Jaemin would have been proof that you weren’t only pining after Sehun; you were head over heels for Jaemin, too! Plus, that motor mouth Haechan was sitting in the corner with his phone in hand. You knew for a fact that Haechan sent Jaemin a tally of how many times his name came up in 127 schedules.
It was embarrassing enough for everybody to catch wind of your undying childhood love for Sehun, but you could survive that embarrassment. You survived it this long. You had loved Sehun long enough for it to be a mere fact of life. And, like Yuta said, Sehun was unattainable: too old, too mature, too serious about defending his own self-imposed dating ban.
Jaemin was a different story altogether. He wasn’t somebody tangled up in your girlhood ideas of what it meant to be handsome and loveable. He was just a boy. Neither too old or too young, a little immature, and utterly uninterested in hiding his attachment to you from anybody. So, between the two of them, Jaemin was infinitely more dangerous because he wouldn’t brush you off if you stood too close. You thought Jaemin would probably follow you to the ends of the earth or off a cliff or into the sun. That kind of devotion should be avoided by anybody, like you, striving to maintain a dating ban. That kind of devotion should be avoided by anybody, like you, wired to return love in kind.
So, you kept your mouth shut through the rest of the break and dance practice. You didn’t need anybody getting the wrong idea about who you were and what you were there for. You were a trainee, and you were there to debut. No matter what it looked like to be the only girl in a room full of boys, you weren’t there to fall in love. You weren’t there to become like the idol who never debuted, the agency’s favorite trainee-turned-cautionary tale when she left the agency to become a mother.
While you studied your movements in the mirror, you recognized that there must have been a progression in these sorts of things. A crush is not the same as being in love, and being in love isn’t the same as being pregnant. And, really, motherhood must have been a more fulfilling vocation. Even though the agency spun the idol who never debuted as a tragic victim, you liked to imagine she was happy with her choices. Still, you didn’t want to be her. You couldn’t want to be her.
You almost wish you had fallen hook, line, and sinker for the agency’s framing that there could be no greater betrayal to your team, fans, and self than to choose being in love over being an idol. It’s not that you wanted to believe it. You just had to. And it was easier to pretend you were halfway there if you just kept your stupid mouth shut.
Ten, Lucas, Mark, and you gathered around the fire pit in your back yard after your mom made dinner. Ten and Lucas sat together on a checkered blanket on one side of the fire; you and Mark sat together on the other side. Ten and Lucas crowded the fire like it was an old friend. You and Mark kept a more respectful distance because you only knew of one flame that could burn without consuming.
In pre-debut days, Ten, Lucas, and Mark were the only guys you would hang out with outside of practice and agency-mandated agency-supervised activities to ‘promote group cohesion.’ To put it simply, Ten, Lucas, and Mark were your friends. You think they would have been your friends in every version of the universe—even ones where you aren’t striving to become idols.
Even though Ten was nearly three years your senior, he never made you balance on your tiptoes to match his seniority. He never looked down on you, either. He liked to flirt—yes—but not in a way that made your skin crawl or burn. He liked to have people wrapped around his finger. You rarely wanted to be seen for your attachments to the NCT boys in those early days, but Ten was an exception from the start. You liked being wrapped around his finger, honestly. You thought you looked prettier that way. And the best part: you never had to worry that Ten might try to take too much from you. He could flirt, you could tease, you could play. While there was true love beneath your games, there were no binding expectations.
You met Lucas when you were about sixteen. Some might say that you’re dating—or you were—but that’s not true. From the moment you met, you and Lucas were like siblings. About as often as people assumed you two were dating, people assumed you were twins. It was kind of weird that both misunderstandings could exist at the same time. Anyway, you preferred it when people thought you were twins, so you leaned into that. It helped that you kind of looked alike. You both had eyes that were a little too big for your faces. You both had smiles that were way too big for your faces. Lucas was probably the only person alive who could almost make you like your goofy smile.
Sometimes, you wondered if your mom might actually like Lucas as a son more than she liked you as a daughter. You wouldn’t have blamed her. There was no point in saying something like that to Lucas. He wouldn’t have judged you or anything. He had this developed theory that love was non-competitive, non-jealous, non-exclusive. He didn’t know how to account for things like favoritism, even though he was often somebody’s favorite.
That was the most charming thing about Lucas. He loved openly, boldly, plainly. Nothing was ever complicated with him. He couldn’t or wouldn’t be restrained by rumors spread by your peers or reprimands from our managers, including Mom. He couldn’t or wouldn’t be confined by the conditions of fame. You think he knew that somebody was always watching—at least, you tried to tell him—but he didn’t seem to care.
Lucas just was, unapologetically, and you guess that’s how he walked right into your heart without tripping any alarms. Lucas was a lot like Jaemin. You realized that even back then. But the thing is, Lucas proudly bore the title of brother. He practically wore it over his heart like a name tag. Jaemin could never bear that title, though. He would have hated it, and it wouldn't have fit him anyway.
And Mark—what words are there for Mark? He was the only boy who ever loved you more after you asked him to let go of his crush on you. If you broke his heart, he never let the shards cut you. He never let that weight sit near you, let alone crush you. You liked to be around him because he was the same good guy on stage and off stage. Sometimes, you didn’t want him to outgrow his crush on you half as much as you wanted to grow into a girl who could crush on him. Maybe one of the great tragedies of your life is that your heart wouldn’t or couldn’t beat for Mark even though there was nobody you could’ve trusted more to hold it—to light and guard, to rule and guide.
Mark caught you staring. He couldn’t know that you were willing yourself to just love him in that heart-fluttering time-stopping sort of way, but you imagined he could. You thought you might melt or explode or catch on fire if he guessed how much you wanted to love him. So, you stuck your tongue out at him before squishing a scorched marshmallow between chocolate and graham crackers. He snorted when you pressed the sticky melted mess of a s’more into his open hand.
“You two are so cute!” Ten gushed through a full mouth. He wiped the chocolate-stained corners of his feline smile. “I ship it!”
While you clicked my tongue, Mark laughed. On your behalf, he insisted, “It’s not like that, man.”
You hoped you weren't imagining the ease in Mark’s voice. You hoped it didn’t hurt him to tell that truth.
Eager for a distraction from your nagging conscience, you tossed a raw marshmallow at Lucas, nailing him right between the eyebrows.
“Score!” You and Ten cheered at the same time, throwing your hands up. Mark laughed immediately. Lucas’s laugh was delayed.
You told Lucas, “You’re unusually quiet tonight.” That wasn’t supposed to be an invitation for him to share whatever was weighing on him. It was actually a demand to lighten up until Ten and Mark left.
Sometimes, Lucas was like a mind reader. Other times, he was the most oblivious person on the planet. Right then, as the bonfire flames climbed high into the night, he was oblivious.
“Man, I had the weirdest day,” Lucas huffed. The marshmallow you threw at him landed on the blanket. He picked it up and packed it into his left cheek. He locked eyes with you to report, “Sehun dragged me into a supply closet during dance practice break. He kept asking me about you—us—so I told him that you’re the coolest girl I know. He thinks we’re together, I guess, and I don’t think I convinced him that we’re not.”
Your face burned and crumbled at Sehun’s name. There was no escaping him. At practice, in your backyard, in the agency’s hallway, in the darkened corners of your mind, in the sunshine of your heart, Sehun’s shadow lingered. You thought you loved finding his traces everywhere. You did. But if Sehun was dragging your friends into storage closets—well, how could you romanticize that?
Picking at a scab on my knee, you blurted, “Why would he do that?” You didn’t want the boys’ theories. Instead, you were turning the story over in your mind, searching for any angle, any light that wouldn’t cast Sehun as anything like a villain.
“Because he has a thing for you,” Lucas replied without a moment’s hesitation.
That was Lucas’s answer for everything—no kidding. In his view, nearly every guy had a thing for you. Even when they were quiet, they had a thing for you. Even when they were annoying, they had a thing for you. You hated it when Lucas tried to make you see your world through his lens. Lucas knew that
And still Lucas insisted, “That’s why he thinks he needs to know if I do too.”
You snapped, “That’s not funny!” Under force, your s’more splattered all over your hand and your opened knee scab. Ouch. Sticky. Warm. Far from ideal. Par for the course. Blockhead Lucas.
Ten cackled before letting out a low whistle. “Ooooh, Y/N!” He wiggled his eyebrows. That eyebrow movement usually precipitated some aggravating physical contact, like tickling or something. But he stayed planted beside Lucas. “An older guy has a thing for you!”
Exhaling through your nose, you turned away from Ten and Lucas. With Ten, everything could become a joke. With Lucas, everything came back to love. Maybe your stomach was too full of s'mores. Suddenly, you didn’t have much of an appetite for jokes or love.
You didn’t mean to meet Mark’s eyes. Quietly, he suggested, “Sehun has always looked out for you.”
You smiled at Mark because that was the most flattering light anybody could shine on a senior idol like Sehun cornering a trainee like Lucas. Maybe Sehun was looking out for you, the kid who loved him at first sight, the gap-toothed girl who had to be taught that there is such a thing as too foolishly forward, too hopelessly devoted. Of course Mark would voice the only possibility that let you hold onto the daydream of Sehun a little longer.
Honestly, your hands kind of hurt from holding on so tightly to a daydream that could never come true. Every rational part of you screamed that it was past time to grow up. But the thing is, even though you tried to paint yourself as someone governed by logic, you really weren't. You dealt in dreams in the sunlight and the moonlight. And if growing up meant there would be no place for Sehun in your favorite fantasies, then you didn’t want to grow up yet or maybe ever.
Mind-reader Lucas reactivated. He advised, “Maybe you shouldn’t rush to outgrow your love for him when he’s finally growing into loving you.” He might have sounded wise if he hadn’t exposed your top secret love for Sehun right in front of Ten and Mark!
Before you could mouth your shaky ignorance defense or, better yet, throw another marshmallow at Lucas’s giant blockhead, Ten pounced. He practically leaped over the fire pit to grill you. His hands wrapped around the ends of your braids as he demanded, “How long have you been into Sehun?”
If you made any sudden movements, Ten would pull your hair. So, you had to sit perfectly still. If you looked away, Ten might drop your braids to touch your face. So, you had to look into his eyes. You don’t know what possibly possessed you to admit the truth: “Since I was, like, nine.”
Ten released your hair and dug his fingers into your shoulders, bare under your black tank top. He shook you wildly. “Sehun! Y/N is in love with Sehun! None of us NCT scrubs stand a chance!”
Maybe Ten’s rough-housing knocked some sense into you. While your brain rattled around your skull, you argued, “I’m not in love with anybody!” You nearly bit through your tongue.
Nobody believed you. Not even Mark! He joined Ten and Lucas in laughing at you. You couldn’t really blame them, but you tried to anyway. As the night dragged on, you lost more of your appetite for jokes. And love. And jokes about love. And—most especially—jokes about you in love. But you don’t think anybody else noticed.
Yuta didn’t know any other way to get Lei’s attention. That’s why he teased her so much. At least that’s what Mark thinks. Mark also thinks he would’ve died on the spot if you ever glared at him like you glared at Yuta. Yuta probably didn’t believe you could see him without glaring. And Mark thinks sometimes Yuta didn’t want anything as much as he wanted you to see him.
So, yeah. Maybe Mark can just say it. Yuta liked you. Most of the guys did. But some remembered to treat you like a person, you know. Not just a pretty girl. Not just a live wire.
Yuta liked you more than most of the guys did, so it was kinda hard to watch him corner you into hating his guts. Mark doubts Yuta realized that you were taking so many of his dumb jokes to heart. Yuta didn’t have to see that for it to be true, though.
While everybody was stretching before dance practice, Yuta nudged your foot with his. Mark doesn’t think Yua noticed that he scuffed your shoe. But you noticed. You glared down at the new white streak on your black sneakers. You opened your mouth, probably to ask what his problem was.
Yuta spoke instead. He liked to talk over you. “So, you really fell in love at nine? Sehun’s angry eyebrows have been your thing that long? I guess that pre-dates your dating ban, huh?”
Yuta’s words were supposed to be like building jokes. Instead, they were more like a flurry of bullets. Or maybe they were like sharpening arrows. Anyway, the point is, Mark noticed Yuta was drawing blood without really meaning to.
Mark half expected you to tackle Yuta like you tackled Haechan that one time. But Mark guessed even in anger, you knew that tackling Yuta would be very different from tackling Haechan. Where Haechan would see it as aggression, Yuta would see it as progression toward whatever passionate relationship he wanted with you.
Instead of taking your rage out on Yuta, you spun on Mark with fire in your eyes. You whipped around so fast that the hair in your ponytail hit you in the face. It kind of got caught in your lip gloss, but you brushed it away fast.
You must’ve known that Mark didn’t tell anybody about that night by the fire pit in her backyard. No matter how obvious your thing for Sehun might’ve been to everyone with eyes, Mark planned to treat it like your invisible secret. You were only rounding on Mark because the likelier leakers—Ten and Lucas—weren’t there to get their just desserts.
Raising his hands in panic, Mark defended himself. His voice was all pitchy and crackling. “It wasn’t me, dude! I swear!”
Johnny stepped between the two of you. He was so freaking tall. You both shrunk back. Johnny told you, “It’s not a big deal. Honestly, Y/N, it’s always been pretty obvious that Sehun is special to you. Don’t sweat it.” Johnny was trying to keep the peace, but he only made everything worse.
While you went stiff and your eyes fell on the floor, you balled your fists. The muscles that tensed along your arms were small but unmistakable. You could probably pack a punch if you really wanted to, but Mark didn’t think that was your style. Well, he guessed it kind of was your style when you were straightening Haechan out. But—look, the thing is, you were pretty and strong from a glance, but Mark still thinks most people get stuck on the pretty part. You can’t really blame them.
Everybody started laughing about your undeniable crush on Sehun. Well, everyone except Mark and Taeyong. Yuta and Haechan competed to be the loudest. Yuta wanted to be the center of your attention. Haechan was greedier. He wanted to be the center of everyone’s attention.
Taeyong cut through the noise without trying hard. “Enough!”
Everybody shut up and turned to face him. Well, everyone except you. You turned your body toward Taeyong, but you kept staring at the floor. You lifted her fists to cross your arms tight over your black t-shirt. You liked to wear all black. Mark guessed you probably thought it made you blend in. Mark guessed you probably knew trying to blend in was a waste of time, but maybe you had to try anyway.
Taeyong continued, tapping his foot, “I never want to hear another word teasing Y/N for her feelings about anyone.” He raised his eyebrows threateningly. “Heard?”
Everybody responded instantly, “Heard.”
Well, everyone except Haechan. He was too unusually quiet. So, Mark elbowed him. He muttered, “Heard.”
And everybody got through practice without any more drama because Yuta and Haechan were too scared to pick on you with Taeyong watching.
You still don’t really know why Jaehyun so often sat with you until your mom was ready to go home. He had done that since you met, when he was sixteen and you were fourteen. Even though he was a little older, you got along easily at the start. Maybe that was because you could speak freely in English. Or maybe that was because you were both labeled old souls by everyone who knew you.
You hate to make it sound like being in 127 was some great suffering. It was a blessing, really, even when you couldn’t keep your head above water. The truth about being their girl was a mixed bag, though, if you're being honest. Maybe the biggest casualty of being at the center of 127’s reverse harem concept wasn’t only the toll it took on your self-esteem and self-perception. Maybe the biggest casualty was the loss of your friendship with Jaehyun. For a time, you think you forgot how to speak to him.
The agency declared that you were the princess, and Jaehyun was the prince. The problem wasn’t that Jaehyun didn’t deserve to be a prince. You think that’s who he was before the agency confirmed it. Any and everybody could see that the problem was you. You didn’t know how to be a princess. More to the point, you didn’t know how to be a princess worthy of Jaehyun’s kiss like your concept demanded.
You tried to play your part well for the cameras and the stage lights, but you could never believe you were doing the part justice. You could never shake the feeling that you were wearing a costume. The costume was either too big or too small, and it was always itchy. And that bothered you because you remembered what it was like when you didn’t feel that way around Jaehyun.
Before you were anybody’s princess, you were Jaehyun’s friend. So, maybe you were reaching for that old familiar title, that more comfortable crown when you finally broke the silence at that table by the vending machine.
You tugged your earbuds out and asked, “Do you think I’m too much?”
From his side of the table, Jaehyun only blinked when he looked up from his book.
You over-explained anyway. You added, feeling that your tongue was in the way, “With anybody? About anything?”
Jaehyun shook his head.
So, you didn’t get to tell him that you felt like you were born with a neon sign over your head that flashed your every thought and feeling for any and everybody to see. You didn’t get to tell him that the sign doesn’t even have the decency to post your secrets in hard-to-read script or a legitimizing type-writer font. Instead, the stupid sign pokes fun with Comic Sans.
Jaehyun gave you a very kind smile. It was the kind of smile that showed his dimples without bragging about them. It was the kind of smile that made your mouth dry. Then, he said, “No, Y/N. I think you’re fine just the way you are.”
Jaehyun looked like the kind of gentleman who would like old music, so you liked to imagine he did. You daydreamed that he was quoting Billy Joel to you. Despite your period of silence, you wanted to believe that English didn’t have to be your only secret language. So, to prove to him that you were also fluent in the oldies, to prove to yourself that it could be yesterday once more, you quoted Billy Joel back to him.
“I need to know that you will always be the same old someone that I knew.” You had to speak up so your voice wouldn’t be drowned out by the vending machine’s humming.
You didn’t have to wonder if Jaehyun caught the reference. Almost as soon as the words left your mouth, he laughed. So often in those days, laughter made you feel naked and exposed. Jaehyun’s laughter was different, though, probably because it was so gentle. He saw you, so in a sense, you were exposed. But you didn’t feel naked, and that’s what counts. Jaehyun had a way—entirely his own—of making you feel clothed in his dignity.
“Billy didn’t want clever conversation,” Jaehyun said softly, holding his place in his book, “but I don’t mind yours.”
Our conversation ended as quickly as it started. Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, your mom was ready to go home. You didn’t let her wait long. Still, the whole way home, your conversation with Jaehyun left you breathless in the best or worst sort of way.
You weren’t really supposed to skate in the weeks leading up to debut. Apparently, the risk of injury was too great. Still, you dug your board out of the closet and walked a few blocks away so your Mom wouldn’t catch you skating and/or thinking about Jaehyun.
You had to feel the wind in your hair while you thought about how he let you press pause and play in your friendship. Maybe you thought the air would cool you down. Maybe you thought the air would remind you that somebody was always watching, and they watched you with Jaehyun most closely because you were princess and prince in their story.
You almost wanted to scuff your elbows or knees because that would have distracted you from your memories of Sehun. It was at that very table by the vending machine that you first met and loved him. Even though you and Sehun had not yet fallen out or apart, maybe you saw it looming on the horizon. Or maybe you were just being a crybaby because you two hadn’t fallen into place or closer together. Definitely, you were being a bitter brat because no matter how poetically Lucas waxed about growing into each other, you couldn’t believe that you and Sehun ever would. You couldn’t believe that you and Sehun ever could. And you thought that scuffed up elbows or knees would feel a lot better than a breaking heart.
While you gained speed, you nearly convinced yourself that any love found by that vending machine was doomed from the start. Really, you just wanted another reason to ignore your rather obvious, boring, predictable thing for Jaehyun, and none of your usual tricks were working. You could think of only one antidote for an unwanted dream: a more dreaded nightmare. It was almost too easy to see Jaehyun as a reflection of Sehun’s shadow.
Jaehyun and Y/N—putting your names together like that made your legs feel weak. You decided not to try that again. Still, you replayed that Billy Joel song for the millionth time. And you prayed that he would stay a storybook prince forever. And you prayed that you wouldn’t stay a wayward princess for always.
According to Doyoung, here’s the problem with you, especially in the days around 127’s debut: you lived locked in your head. You were too tangled up in your own poetic license to see or believe objective truths.
A List of Objective Truths
You were a standout dancer.
You were a stable singer.
You were entirely too open to criticism.
As soon as everybody piled into the van after your first stage performance as a unit, Doyoung caught you reading fan reactions. It was obvious that your thumb was hovering over negative comments. It’s not that there’s no place for constructive criticism. Doyoung’s point has always been that one should not become a sponge for negative feedback. Too often, Doyoung thinks, that’s what you allowed yourself to become in the name of ‘humility.’ He hated to see it.
Rolling his eyes, Doyoung unfastened his seatbelt and leaned across the seat dividing him from you. Coming between you and Mark, Doyoung snatched the phone out of your frozen, trembling little hands. Even when you gave Doyoug that sweet doe-eyed look that melted everyone’s hearts, he remained firm.
“Stop,” Doyoung demanded. You winced. Doyoung continued, waving your phone, “Don’t let this distract you. We need your head in the game.”
You didn’t argue. Even after Doyoung returned your phone, you didn’t return to the fan discourse. Instead, as Doyoung sat back in his seat beside Johnny, he watched you retreat to a more uplifting conversation with Mark.
pairing: jaemin x 99 liner idol reader (endgame); jaehyun x reader and yuta x reader subplots
note: based on my for you series, posted on @inspired-by-the-music. yn was originally an oc named lei... and she will always be lei to me, lowkey :]
synopsis: yn is the only girl in nct, having debuted in nct 127 and nct dream. at the center of 127's reverse harem and dream's wendy to jaemin's peter pan, yn can rarely tell which relationships are for show and which might thrive when the cameras turn away.
epigraph: “There are all kinds of love in this world, but never the same love twice.” — F. Scott Fitzgerald, “The Sensible Thing”
yn — you didn’t set out to write so many songs about heartbreak, but that’s kind of your thing now. well, that and being the center of attention on chenle’s web reality drama to promote the strip mall, where you work as a clerk at the music store. your screaming angry songs about stupid boys were supposed to protect your heart, but they didn’t do much to defend your heart from donghyuck. you’d almost rather die than let somebody get a good look at your heart when it breaks at donghyuck’s command or when it swells at jaemin’s glance.
jaemin — he’s the boy you fell in love with many summers ago. he's supposed to be a mere happy memory, but he often feels more real than the boys right in front of your face. you tell yourself you’re happy to catch glimpses of him online. his boyfriend vlogger persona isn’t too different from the boy you knew. he re-enters your life just in time to be a distraction from donghyuck… but you want him to be more than that, don’t you? he swears that his millions of adoring followers can’t compare to your love, and he hasn’t gone a day since that summer without thinking of you. you’re not too jaded to believe him, are you?
donghyuck — he’s your obnoxious gaming streamer (username: haechan) neighbor that you should’ve been content to hate. it’s a mystery to your friends how, exactly, he managed to worm his way into your heart. it’s an even greater mystery how he could dump you mere months into your relationship after all that time he spent trying to get you to see the “real” him. sometimes it’s hard to tell where donghyuck ends and haechan begins. he can’t quite believe that you ever loved him like he loved you, and you’d rather lose him than fight to convince him. you’d rather lose him than your self-respect, right?
supporting
mark — as your guitarist and musical confidante, he’s the one who holds your creativity to a schedule. he works with you at the music shop, and he helps you with the karaoke band. he hates donghyuck, and he’s not too shy to tell you that you deserve better.
renjun — the self-proclaimed squidward of the group, renjun longs for the day when he can quit the strip, the show and his job at the café. he can’t stand donghyuck, and he’s certain you’re better off with jaemin, who is quickly becoming his artistic muse.
jeno — jaemin’s best friend, reluctant confidante, and dog-dad to fudge. he was happy with his job at the strip’s gym, but he couldn’t say no when chenle relocated him to work at the pet store. at the strip, he can’t tell what’s real and what’s for the show; he doesn’t even try to sort fact from fiction anymore.
chenle — the boss baby of the strip. self-proclaimed mr. krabs of the group, but renjun insists he has spongebob’s laugh (insult). although he has a brilliant mind for marketing and he swears promoting the strip is his top priority, he’s not trying to burn you out. lowkey finances everybody’s dreams.
jisung — the true baby of the strip. when he took that part-time job in the café, he didn’t realize that would be his path to internet stardom. he sort of stumbled into being a food vlogger. he thinks you hung the moon, and in his world, your happiness matters most!
ningning — she’s your best friend and roommate. an aspiring fashion influencer, she’s the one person in your world who isn’t tangled in the strip’s drama. it’s exhausting being the sole voice of reason, tbh.
ᓚᘏᗢ warnings established relationship, mentions of studying/stress
ᓚᘏᗢ note not my favorite thing that ive written, but i hope you like it guys
ᓚᘏᗢ flufftober masterlist
The noise of the fair enveloped everything: the spinning lights, the smell of burnt sugar, the distant laughter mixed with music coming from the rides. But amid all that chaos, Jisung could only focus on one thing: your hand in his.
They had been walking together for a while, without saying much, just sharing the kind of silence that isn't uncomfortable, that feels cozy and warm. Every so often, your fingers brushed against his until, finally, he intertwined them without thinking too much about it. It was a clumsy, almost shy gesture, but when he noticed that you weren't pulling away, he let a small smile form on his lips.
“You like coming to places like this, don't you?” he asked, looking up at the sky covered in neon lights.
“Yes,” you replied with a soft laugh. “Although it's really crowded now.”
He nodded, looking around. The crowd moved like a wave, pushing and pulling people apart carelessly. And then, suddenly, a group of boys ran by, laughing, and almost dragged them along with them. Jisung took a step back, his fingers slipping between yours for a second, and that's when his voice, almost a whisper, sounded above the noise:
“Don't let go of me.”
It was so natural, so sincere, that you stood still for a moment. His eyes sought yours immediately: large, a little frightened, with that uncertain gleam that always escaped him when he didn't know how to express what he was feeling.
You looked at him and squeezed his hand back, harder this time. He let out a soft, nervous laugh, lowering his head slightly as if trying to hide the smile that had appeared on his face.
“I'm not going to do it,” you replied.
And so you continued walking, your shoulders brushing against each other and your hands so intertwined that it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. At some point, the crowd ceased to matter. It was as if the world had shrunk to that small space between the two of you, where the lights, noise, and people faded away, and all that remained was the warmth of your skin, the calm sway of your steps, and that silent promise that neither of you needed to say out loud.
Because deep down, you both knew that “don't let go of me” meant much more than just not getting lost in the crowd.
