You’ve spent ten years at SM, long enough to watch entire generations of idols grow up, graduate, enlist, re-debut, reinvent themselves… long enough to watch some of the kids you first taught in oversized hoodies and squeaky sneakers turn into the men standing in front of you now.

But none of them changed so dramatically as NCT Dream.

The seven boys who used to fight over snacks and fall asleep during stretching had somehow become—annoyingly—grown. Taller than you. Sharper jawlines. More confident. More sure of themselves. And lately?

A little too sure of themselves.

For the last six months, you’ve been assigned mostly to Dream’s schedules. You’d been happy about it at first—until the flirting started.

It had begun as small things. A compliment here. A lingering look there. But then they seemed to have made it a mission—collectively—to prove to you that they were not the 15- and 16-year-olds you used to scold for forgetting their water bottles.

And today? Oh, today was apparently another episode of “We’re Adults, Noona. For Real.”

You walk into the mirrored studio, coffee in hand, and the boys are already there—warming up, stretching, talking loudly, like they specifically wanted to make sure you knew they were being responsible.

“Morning, noona,” Jaemin greets, flashing that devastating smile he learned to weaponize sometime around last year.

You narrow your eyes. “Why are you all early?”

“Why can’t we be early?” Jeno asks, feigning innocence. He ties his hair back into a tiny ponytail and you want to pinch his cheeks like you used to—but that might only feed their delusion.

“Because,” you say slowly, “I know you.”

Renjun rolls his eyes. “Wow. Distrust. After all these years.”

“Traitor,” Haechan mutters, leaning against the wall. “We’re men. Men wake up early.”

You sip your coffee. “Boys also wake up early. Usually after their mothers drag them out of bed.”

A chorus of offended gasps fills the room.

“We’re seriously not boys anymore,” Mark says, stepping forward like the spokesperson of Adult Dream. “Like—noona, you’ve seen us debut, grow, tour, do solo schedules—”

“And flirt,” Chenle adds helpfully from behind him. “Don’t forget flirt.”

Mark glares at him. “I was building to that.”

You rub your forehead. “Do I need to remind you there’s a whole choreo to get through today?”

“Sure,” Jaemin says, stepping closer. Too close. “But you could at least admit we’re different now.”

You glance at the group. Their postures are suspiciously straight. Their eyes too intent. Their expressions too smug.

God help you.

They were absolutely doing this on purpose.

Practice goes smoothly at first. They’re focused, professional, and surprisingly obedient. But then—

“(Y/N)-noona,” Jisung calls, after a run-through. “Can you correct my angle here? I want to make sure it’s perfect.”

You walk over to look. “Your angle’s fine, Ji—”

You stop.

Because he’s smiling.

Smiling in a way that is not allowed on his baby face.

You scowl. “Jisung. What are you doing?”

“Just showing noona how mature I am.”

“No,” you say firmly. “You are not allowed to use that face on me. I changed your diaper-energy era clothes for debut.”

He flushes immediately—completely breaking character.

Behind you, Haechan bursts out laughing. “Bro, you lasted two seconds!”

“I got nervous,” Jisung mutters, hiding behind his bangs.

“That’s okay,” you say cheerfully. “Because you’re still my baby—”

A collective “NOONA!” echoes through the room.

You blink innocently. “Hmm?”

“We’re not babies!” Jeno insists.

“Really?” you ask. “Because you’re acting like you want gold stars.”

Chenle crosses his arms. “We want acknowledgment.”

“Of what?”

“That we’re men.”

You laugh. Actually laugh. “Oh my god. All seven of you had a meeting about this, didn’t you?”

They share the guiltiest glance imaginable.

A meeting. About seducing you with maturity.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Fine. If you want to act grown, you better keep up.”

“Try us,” Jaemin says, voice low.

Oh, you think.

Challenge accepted.

The next run-through ends and they’re panting, wiping sweat, looking to you for feedback.

You let your eyes drag—subtly but purposefully—from one to the next. Strong shoulders. Defined arms. Jawlines you could cut paper with. You’ve never ignored their growth—you just never let yourself acknowledge it out loud.

Time to change that.

You walk slowly to the center of the room. “Good. Very good, actually.”

They perk up like puppies. Very handsome puppies.

“But,” you continue, “you need more control in the transitions. You’re powerful—” you let your gaze linger on Jeno a moment too long— “but the finesse gets lost.”

Jeno swallows.

“Jaemin,” you say sweetly, “your footwork’s clean but I want more intention. You’re usually great with sensual choreo… what’s wrong today?”

He chokes on his water.

“Mark,” you add, stepping close enough that he shifts nervously, “your stage presence is amazing, but don’t rely on your arms so much. You have a strong core. Use it.”

He turns pink. Actually pink.

You grin.

Yes.

They were in trouble now.

You walk past Haechan, leaning slightly into his space as you adjust his wrist angle. “Too stiff. Relax your hands. Unless you’re nervous?” you ask lightly.

He freezes. “I—who said I’m nervous?”

“Your pulse,” you say, tapping his wrist once before retreating.

His ears turn red.

Chenle is next. “Chenle, don’t lock your knees. You’re tall now. Use your height. It’s very—” you pause, letting your voice drop— “appealing when you do.”

He blinks rapidly, looking like he forgot his native languages.

You stand back, satisfied.

Seven grown men.

Seven wrecked grown men.

Jaemin recovers first. “...Noona, that’s not fair.”

“Why?” you ask, feigning innocence.

“We were supposed to be the ones flustering you.”

“Oh honey,” you say, “you tried.”

They regroup during water break. Whispering. Scheming.

You pretend not to notice.

Then — predictable as ever — they come back with a vengeance.

“(Y/N)-noona,” Renjun says coolly, “your demonstration earlier looked tiring. We could help you stretch.”

“Very generous,” you say dryly.

“You should take breaks more often,” Jeno adds, brushing his hair back like he practiced in the mirror. “We’re strong enough to keep up now.”

Mark steps in. “And we’re responsible. Mature. Men who can handle themselves.”

You bite back a smile. “Is that so?”

“Totally,” Haechan says, leaning casually on a barre like he’s posing for a magazine.

Chenle smirks. “You should see us outside of practice sometime.”

“Is that an invitation?” you ask.

Seven heads nod.

Simultaneously.

You laugh. “You’re cute.”

“Not cute,” Jaemin insists. “Attractive.”

“Handsome,” Jeno adds.

“Hot,” Haechan says proudly.

“Men,” Mark concludes again.

You sigh dramatically. “Fine. You’re men. Better?”

They look triumphant for exactly three seconds.

“That said,” you continue, “I still have to punish you.”

They freeze.

“...Punish?” Jisung squeaks.

You fold your arms. “For flirting with your choreographer during work hours. Completely unprofessional.”

“What’s the punishment?” Mark asks warily.

You smile slowly. “I’m going to flirt back.”

The room goes silent.

Dead silent.

Haechan recovers first. “We—we can handle that.”

You raise a brow. “Sure?”

“Totally,” he says.

“Positive?” you echo.

Mark nods. Too quickly. “Completely.”

“Okay then,” you say sweetly. “Round two.”

You start with subtle things.

Calling Renjun “handsome” when correcting his shoulders.

Telling Jeno his stability is “impressively attractive.”

Letting your fingers brush Mark’s when handing him a towel. “Careful,” you murmur. “If you keep looking at me like that, you’ll forget the choreography.”

Mark nearly drops the towel.

Then you pass by Jaemin and lightly tap under his chin. “Chin up. Confidence looks good on you.”

He visibly short-circuits.

Haechan is cocky, so you go for the kill. Leaning in, you whisper: “If you’re going to challenge me, you should at least be prepared to win.”

His face goes crimson so fast you almost worry for him.

Chenle tries to sass back — so you say, “Keep your hips fluid. You’re good at that. Surprisingly good.”

He coughs so violently Jisung has to hand him water.

And Jisung… sweet Jisung… you simply pat his cheek. “Trying to act grown is adorable on you.”

He melts. Actually melts.

One by one, your grown men crumble into embarrassed heaps.

You clap your hands. “Break’s over. Let’s run it again!”

They groan.

But even flustered, they obey.

Professional to the core.

Three hours later, you dismiss them. “Good work today. Shower, eat, rest. Same time tomorrow.”

They gather their things, still oddly quiet.

You narrow your eyes. “What now?”

Jaemin is the one who finally speaks. “We’re just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous,” you murmur.

He ignores you. “You really see us as men now?”

You soften a little. “I always knew you’d grow up. I just didn’t expect you to try proving it to me all at once.”

“And?” Jeno asks.

“And yes,” you sigh. “You’re men. Annoying, ridiculous, competitive men.”

They beam.

“But that doesn’t mean,” you add, “you’re not still my boys in here.” You tap your heart.

They go silent again.

Not flustered this time.

Just… touched.

Mark clears his throat. “We don’t mind being your boys.”

You smile. “Good. Because no matter how tall you get or how much you flirt, that’s never going to change.”

“Can we still flirt though?” Haechan asks.

You sigh. “As long as it doesn’t interrupt practice.”

“And you’ll flirt back?” Chenle asks hopefully.

“Oh definitely,” you say. “So you better train your tolerance.”

They look horrified.

And excited.

Jisung rubs the back of his neck. “We’ll work on it.”

“Please do,” you tease. “Because right now? You can’t handle me.”

“We can,” Jaemin argues. “We just need… practice.”

You laugh. “Good luck.”

As you turn to leave, seven voices call after you:

“Noona—”

You glance back.

They’re all smiling.

“Get home safe.”

You roll your eyes fondly. “I’m older than you, not fragile.”

“Still,” Jeno says, “text us when you get home.”

You blink.

That was… unexpectedly sweet.

You smile. “Okay.”

Seven faces light up like you gave them concert tickets.

You shake your head and push open the studio door.

Behind you, you hear Chenle say:

“We are so down bad.”

Jaemin groans. “She’s going to destroy us.”

Haechan sighs dreamily. “I can’t wait.”

Mark panics. “Bro—WHAT?!”

You leave laughing.

Because yes — they’re grown.

And yes — you see it now.

But at the end of the day?

They’ll always be your boys.

And teasing them?