#HaeChan
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☾⋆。𖦹 °✩
random boyfriend texts with 7dream !!
a/n: mark’s is a deepcut ref to that one video where he and chenle were gonna get dinner but chenle brakes their sealed promise >_<
warning: blurred pic of a wang
fake text m.list ☁︎⋅
#viasdreams#nct#nct texts#nct x reader#nct fake texts#nct fanfic#nct imagines#nct dream#nct dream texts#nct smau#nct x y/n#nct x you#nct dream smau#nct dream x reader#nct dream x y/n#nct dream fanfic#mark lee#renjun#huang renjun#jeno#lee jeno#haechan#lee haechan#jaemin#na jaemin#chenle#zhong chenle#park jisung#jisung#mark lee x reader
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ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 the dreamies when you ask them to fake date you
masterlist
#nct dream#nct dream x reader#nct dream texts#nct texts#nct#mark lee#haechan#lee donghyuck#lee jeno#chenle#renjun#nct reactions#nct imagines#nct dream fake texts#nct dream imagines#nct dream reactions#na jaemin#park jisung
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Eunoia. — 이민형
when it's all said and done, girl, I want you
PAIRING: mark lee x reader GENRE: unspoken feelings
WORD COUNT: 2.3k+ words
WARNINGS: finger fucking, pet names (baby, love), pool sex, exhibition kink, grinding
SYNOPSIS: it's late at night and you're yet to pull yourself out of the ocean that is your thoughts. Mark helps you out in a complexed but effective way that he knows. A/N: very self-indulgent, definitely not a scenario that came up to me in the middle of the night and stayed in my mind ever since. anyhows, enjoy reading!
The day nears the next cyle of the moon and sun, but you remain at the pool side— music resonating from your phone as you dip your feet in the pool, drinking the night away.
You should’ve been worn out from all the fun that you had with your friends yet for some unknown reasons, sleep doesn’t come to you easily. In result, you opt grabbing one of the unfinished bottles of vodka for yourself.
The thoughts swimming in your head must’ve drowned you, considering that you didn’t hear one of the bedroom doors opening and the footsteps walking towards. It is only when someone sits next to you that you notices their presence.
Your gaze shifts from the stars to the man on your right— Mark. Your breath hitches for a moment. The messy hair and a plain white shirt paired with the dopey smile on his face is enough for you to fall in to another trance.
“What got you out here having fun all by yourself?” Mark tilts his head in question, to which you let out a soft laugh.
“Is drinking alone fun now?”
“I suppose.. ? It looks fun for me.”
Merely replying with a smile, silence engulfs the both of you. And as if on cue, your mind boggles you over trivial things once again, just like what it does since you were young.
Mark passes you a brief glance, then to the music playing on your phone.
Thoughts
Sometimes, I just can't control my thoughts
No medication's ever made them stop
All I think about is everything I'm not
Instead of everything I got
He sighs, biting his lips as he contemplates on what to do.
And it’s not Mark if he chooses the complexed but effective way.
The bubble of your thoughts pop when the water splashes at you suddenly. Surprised, you look over to Mark who’s swimming his way towards where you are seated. Just right before you, Mark comes up from the water, brushing his black undercut hair back.
His eyes meet yours. “Hi,”
“Hello,” You grin, sipping your vodka.
He walks a little bit more closer, enough for his chest to make contact with your knees. Mark smiles again, resting his hands on your knees.
“Hi,” He repeats softly.
You can’t help but chuckle. “Hello Mark,”
What is this man doing? The voices in your head asks.
“Come swim with me?”
You glance at the rippling water illuminated faintly by the moon, then back at him, standing waist-deep with a boyish grin that doesn’t quite match the hour.
“Pass, I’m just waiting for sleep to take over my body. Besides, you shouldn’t be swimming this late at night, Mark. You’ll catch a cold.”
Mark exhales dramatically, a mix of exasperation and amusement, before swishing the water toward you in a playful splash. It doesn’t reach, but the gesture draws a reluctant grin from you.
“Loosen up a little,” He says, his voice warm, almost teasing. “Who cares about catching a cold if it means having a bit of fun?”
You’re not quite sure how it happens. You remember saying no—firmly, even—but now the cool water laps at your legs, rising steadily until it reaches your waist. Mark’s hand is warm and steady in yours, his grip pulling you further into the pool, toward the deeper end.
“Mark,” you warn, your voice low, your fingers tightening instinctively around his. It’s not fear—nothing as dramatic as that. You can swim perfectly well, and the depth of the water doesn’t intimidate you. It’s just…this wasn’t supposed to be on your list for tonight.
He slows, catching the hesitation written across your face. Without a word, he stops walking, the two of you now floating in the very center of the pool. The stillness around you is palpable, broken only by the faint ripples you’ve created together.
Mark’s gaze softens as it finds yours, studying your expression carefully, reading the unspoken. Then, with a quiet assurance, he slides his arm around your waist, pulling you just a little closer.
“I’ve got you,” he says, the words low but firm, steadying you in a way that feels more solid than the water ever could.
You sigh, taking in the comfort of the moon and starts hovering above the both of you, and the comfort of Mark’s arm around you.
“What do you think Yeonjun and Wooyoung’s reaction will be if they see us like this?”
“The teasings, oh god,” The mere thought of the two troublemakers’ reactions is already enough to make Mark sigh in exasperation.
He can practically hear their voices now—the teasing tone, the exaggerated laughter. They’ve been relentless lately, poking fun at the “odd vibe,” as they like to call it, between the two of you. Their wild imaginations have taken your every interaction and spun it into something far more dramatic, their assumptions as colorful as they are persistent.
You laugh at his response, sliding your arms to rest on his shoulders. “Why do you think they tease us so much?” Mark’s chuckle fades, leaving a quiet tension in its place. The water sways around you both, but all you can focus on is how his gaze has softened—more intent now, as if he’s waiting for something.
“They think there’s something between us,” he says, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel weightier. His hands linger at your waist, his touch steady yet hesitant, like he’s holding back.
You swallow, your laugh from earlier now a distant echo. “And… do you think they’re right?” you ask, surprising yourself with the boldness in your voice.
Mark’s lips twitch, but it’s not quite a smile. “Sometimes,” he admits, barely above a murmur. “It’s hard not to when they keep planting the idea in my head.”
You feel a faint warmth rising in your cheeks, though you’re not sure if it’s from his words or the way his thumb grazes your side absentmindedly. “And what does that idea look like to you?”
The shift in his expression is subtle, but it’s enough to make your heart stutter. There’s something deeper in his eyes now, something that makes the air between you feel almost fragile.
“Do you want me to show you?” he asks quietly, his voice low and steady, but there’s an edge to it—a flicker of vulnerability he can’t quite hide.
The moment stretches, the world outside the pool fading to nothing. It’s just you, Mark, and the unspoken tension swirling between you, like the water lapping at your skin.
Whether it’s you or Mark who closes the distance first doesn’t matter. All that matters now is the way his lips meet yours—soft and deliberate, moving in a rhythm that feels as though it’s been waiting to happen. The kiss deepens naturally, a slow, intoxicating exchange that carries the urgency of something long denied.
Mark’s hand slides to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as though anchoring you to the moment. His grip is firm but careful, a silent assurance that he won’t let go. When he feels you lean further into him, your movements mirroring his, something shifts.
With surprising ease, Mark’s other hand slips beneath your legs, lifting you as though you weigh nothing. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, securing yourself against him. The movement presses your bodies closer, the water rippling around you in lazy waves.
You can feel his breath against your skin, warm and uneven, his lips trailing softly before returning to yours. The press of his body is undeniable, a tension simmering beneath the surface, but the way he holds you—steady, deliberate—grounds the moment in something more than just desire.
Mark pulls away, breathing heavily. “I know it’s late but tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t want any of this and I’ll pretend none of this happened tomorrow.”
Nonsense. You don’t even know what got him thinking like that when you’re already on cloud nine just by his kisses.
“Don’t stop,” You whisper against his ear before connecting your lips with his once again.
As your tongue fights and clashes with one another, you gasp at the feeling of Mark’s palm cupping your core. The water surrounds every part of your lower body but Mark could still feel the slimy texture of your juices on his skin.
His fingers slides along your labia, letting it explore and feel your warmth. The soothing movements of his pads strays away from your focus as Mark’s kisses travels down to your neck. Tracing your skin with his tongue, Mark licks a stripe straight to where your neck and collarbone meets. You gasp as he gives it a little kiss before sucking the skin, at the same time he enters a digit inside you.
“Mark..”
He shushes your noises yet his fingers serves absolutely nothing to help you do so. Not long after you’ve gotten used to his single digit, he enter another after another, curling them inside. Your head lols back, trapping your bottom lips between your lips.
Turning the both of you around, Mark carries your weight one arm while the other busies itself pumping inside you. In a few steps backwards, your back hits the wall of the pool causing Mark’s fingers to be buried deeper inside. Your hands fly to grab something as a leverage, eventually finding his flexing arms. The cold breeze brushing against your skin reminds you that you’re not in the privacy of your bedroom or any private space right now. And Mark uses it to his advantage, seemingly knowing well what you like despite this being the first time that he’s having a taste of you. “Haechan was awake when I left the boys’ room, you know?” he murmurs, his tone low and teasing as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His lips brush against your cheek in a series of soft, fleeting pecks, his warmth lingering with each one. “He was mumbling something about wanting a snack but being too lazy to actually get up. You know how crazy that man is about his snacks, babe.”
His voice drops to a playful whisper. “What if he decides to come out? Imagine him catching us like this—you trembling in my arms, eyes fluttering shut, your hips jerking against me like you’re trying so hard to keep quiet. One look at your hips, and he’d know exactly what’s happening, no questions asked.”
You curses at the thought of being caught. And Mark laughs. Because he knows damn well it’s not due to embarrassment nor fear. The clench of your walls on his fingers tells him so. “Wouldn’t you like that, babe? I think you would,” Curling his fingers upwards, your eyes rolls to the back of your head. “Look at you getting close at the thought of it. I wonder what’ll be his reaction.”
“Mark please,” You plead, not even knowing for what reason. “Please? I don’t know even know what you want, love.” It’s frustrating how the brutal pace of his thrusting fingers contrasts the soft and loving tone of his voice. It messes your head and inside both at the same time. “Please please, Mark—” Your eyes catches his sharp gaze in a hazy film, barely even able to open your lids to maintain eye contact. “Fuck– haah, I’m gonna come.” “Yeah?” Mark pulls you impossibly closer, grinding his prominent boner on any accessible part of you that he can reaches by merely moving his hips. “I’m gon– I wanna cum, I’m gonna cum. Shit, Mark please, baby,” You desperately cling on to him, meeting his fingers halfway as you try your best to fasten the pace despite the restrain from the water. Mark groans, silently wishing it is his cock you’re clenching around so tightly right now. How good it must feel to your warm walls massaging his length, tightening on him just right, milking him dry until he’s nothing left but an empty vessel of a man obsessed with you and your body. He presses your bodies to the wall as he grinds harder and faster, matching your pace. “Do it. Come for me,” He whispers your name in an encouraging manner. And you did just as he orders. Failing to keep your eyes open, your eyes shut close as your mouth forms a circular shape. The pleasure comes to you crashing down. Mark doesn’t know what kind of hold you have on him but he’s certain it is no way near surface level when he reaches his own climax just by watching you come undone in his arms. The look of you embracing the pleasure he offered is enough to send him off the edge. You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck, your ragged breaths mingling with his as you try to steady yourself. The aftershocks still linger, leaving your body heavy and your mind hazy, but the comforting rise and fall of his chest anchors you. Both of you silently agree to stay like this for a moment, letting the sound of the pool water gently lapping around you fill the quiet. It feels like time has paused, a brief reprieve from everything outside this bubble of warmth.
But fate, as always, has other plans.
A slow, deliberate clap breaks the stillness, immediately snapping your attention toward its source. The sound is followed by a low whistle that cuts through the air like a taunt.
“Well, that was one hell of a show,” comes the familiar voice, dripping with mock amusement.
Your head snaps up, and there he is—Haechan, leaning casually against the doorframe of the boys’ room, arms crossed and that trademark cocky smirk plastered across his face. His expression, equal parts smug and entertained, makes your stomach drop.
#nct#nct mark#mark lee#nct 127#nct dream#nct smut#mark smut#mark lee smut#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct hard hours#nct u#haechan#nct x reader#mark lee x reader#lee minhyung smut#lee minhyung x reader#nct soft hours#nct fanfic#mark fanfic#nct dream imagines#prodbymaui
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blood moon — ldh
‧˚⭒ pairing: lee donghyuck x afab!reader. 18+MDNI ‧˚⭒ genre: thriller!au, yandere! themes, smut. ‧˚⭒ word count: 9.2k ‧˚⭒ warnings: mentions of death, blood, magic, sharp objects, dark entities, clowns, smut. ‧˚⭒ starring: haechan, jihyo, ningning, chenle, jeno, jaemin, jisung, mark. ‧˚⭒ summary: in the middle of nowhere where shadows lie beneath the surface, you're led back to a place that unravels your past. in this cursed place, time is of the essence, only to meet donghyuck, the one capable of setting you free.
The small, dimly lit room feels suffocating, the walls pressing in on you with an almost deliberate weight. You draw your knees up to your chest, sitting on the edge of the creaky bed, your head lightly resting against the cold glass of the window. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, yet an invisible unease clings to you, wrapping itself around your thoughts.
You were back at your family’s old cabin, surrounded by friends who had come to this remote countryside to celebrate the annual festival. This land, once the backdrop of your childhood, was now a nostalgic glimpse into a life you hadn’t revisited in years. Sharing this piece of your past with the people closest to you had felt like a good idea. Yet, something about being here again unsettled you in ways you couldn’t explain.
Earlier in the day, the town had been alive with energy. Crowds of locals and visitors had flooded the streets, some dressed up to honor the town’s peculiar traditions. There were games, horse rides, and even the timeless festival classic: bobbing for apples—though you’d never been a fan. Watching your friends laugh and immerse themselves in the festivities had been enough to keep a smile on your face. But beneath the surface, an inexplicable weight lingered, heavy and persistent.
The cabin creaked softly in the night breeze, the faint smell of aged wood and pine wafting through the air. Outside, the dense woods stood like silent sentinels, their gnarled branches clawing at the smoky sky. The moon hung low, its hue casting an eerie glow over the landscape. Somewhere in the distance, the faint sound of music drifted through the trees—a melody so soft it felt more like a memory than reality.
A soft knock at your door broke the silence, making you flinch.
“You doing okay?” Jihyo asked, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed.
Her presence immediately comforted you. Something about the way she stood reminded you of your mother, a bittersweet memory you hadn’t expected to surface tonight.
“I’m okay, Jihyo,” you replied softly, your gaze distant. “Just… taking it all in.”
She gave you a gentle smile and stepped into the room. The matching flannel pajamas she wore, along with the rest of your group, brought a sense of warmth to the chilly evening. A cool breeze slipped through the cracked window, brushing against your skin like a ghost of the past.
“We had so much fun today,” she said, sitting beside you on the bed, the old frame groaning under her weight. “Ningning won’t stop talking about the horseback dude who asked for her number.” She rolled her eyes playfully, letting out a small laugh.
You couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head. “Sounds like Ningning.”
For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, your eyes drawn to the window. The night sky stretched endlessly, the moon casting a faint, eerie glow over the land.
“Take a look at that,” Jihyo said suddenly, her voice filled with awe. “It’s a blood moon.”
Your gaze shifted upward, and there it was—a smoky red orb suspended in the heavens. Its haunting beauty mesmerized you. For a moment, you thought the light seemed to pulse, almost beckoning, though you dismissed it as a trick of your mind.
“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jihyo smiled and pulled you into a gentle hug. “I know how much this place means to you,” she began softly, her words carrying a rare tenderness. “And I know how hard this time of year must be, especially being back here. I can’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose both parents, but I want you to know I care about you. We all do. And if it helps, we can make this a yearly thing—just us, with good food and drinks, hanging out in the countryside. How does that sound?”
Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You nodded instead, swallowing the lump in your throat. “That sounds really nice. Thank you, Ji. I appreciate it.”
She hugged you one last time before standing and heading for the door. “Goodnight,” she said, smiling back at you as she closed the door behind her.
Exhaustion crept over you like a heavy blanket as the house settled into stillness. You slipped under the covers, the warmth lulling you into a dreamless sleep.
A soft whisper cuts through the silence.
“Come…”
Your eyes fluttered open, disoriented. The room was bathed in shadow, the faint glow of the moon casting eerie streaks of red across the walls. You sat up, straining to hear, and rubbing your eyes. The whisper came again, louder this time.
“Come find us…”
It was faint but unmistakable, the voice achingly familiar. Your heart skipped a beat as chills raced down your spine. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, every nerve in your body on high alert.
The red light outside pulsed faintly, casting the woods in an otherworldly glow. The whispers seemed to wrap around you, tugging at your very soul. You glanced toward your now opened door, the adjoining guest room, where your friends were fast asleep. Their soft snores and murmurs reassured you they were blissfully unaware of the eerie disturbance.
Your feet moved almost of their own accord as you slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed a sweater. The wooden floor creaked under your weight as you tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake anyone. The cabin door groaned softly as you eased it open, the cool night air biting at your skin.
The whispers grew louder, clearer, as if guiding you.
“Come find us… we’re waiting.”
With one last glance at the cabin, you stepped into the woods, the pulsing red light ahead of you like a beacon.
You didn’t look back.
The whispers grew louder, drowning out the crunch of leaves beneath your hurried steps. The pulsating red light loomed closer with every breath, an unnatural urgency filling the air and compelling you forward.
“Sweetheart…” The familiar voice reached your ears, tender yet chilling, like a memory resurrected from the depths of your mind.
“M-Mom?” Your voice cracked, trembling as you stumbled forward, breaking into a run.
This couldn’t be real. It was impossible. Your mind grappled for an explanation. Was this a dream—a vivid, warped projection of your subconscious? Maybe you were caught in a lucid nightmare, wandering through some uncharted corner of your own mind. Yet, the cold air stung your skin, and the steady thudding of your heart told you otherwise.
Finally, you stopped, your breath catching as you stared, wide-eyed, at the scene unfurling before you.
A carnival.
Towering red-and-white-striped tents stretched high into the night sky, glowing unnaturally under the moon’s light. Flashing bulbs blinked erratically, casting shadows that danced with unsettling energy. The air was thick with the syrupy scent of popcorn and candied apples, mingling with the faint metallic tang of something unrecognizable. Strangers in capes and masks strolled arm in arm, their laughter melodic and strangely distorted.
Something about the place was deeply, fundamentally wrong.
“What… is this?” you murmured, your voice breaking as you took in the chaos. You stood frozen, painfully aware of how your pajama-clad form stood out against the surreal revelry of the carnival-goers. Their gazes lingered too long, curious and invasive, making your skin crawl.
“WELCOME IN, FOLKS!” boomed a voice from above. You jumped, startled, and turned to see a figure perched impossibly high on stilts, towering over the crowd. His face was a riot of bright, garish paint, his grin stretched unnaturally wide across his face.
“I, Chenle, your gracious host, welcome you to the annual Blood Moon Celebration! Grab your tickets and make your way to the freak show!” His voice rose and fell theatrically, delighting the crowd with every exaggerated gesture.
The air buzzed with cheers and applause as he gestured grandly toward a smaller, dimly lit tent behind him. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, his gaze locked on you. His grin faltered for the briefest moment, a flicker of something—recognition?—flashing in his sharp eyes.
He tilted his head, studying you with unnerving intensity, before his grin reappeared, wider and more calculated than before.
Balancing with ease, he descended his stilts, each movement precise and deliberate as he made his way toward you. His painted face loomed closer, his sharp eyes scrutinizing every detail of your appearance.
“You…” His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, laced with something unreadable. “I’ve never seen you here before, Miss. Do you have your ticket?”
The weight of his gaze was suffocating, like a spotlight trained on you. You swallowed hard, your voice faltering. “N-No. I’m visiting my hometown with my friends. I don’t remember there ever being a carnival… especially not during this time.”
His sharp eyes raked over you once more, his painted grin frozen in place. For a moment, you thought he might dismiss you—or worse, see right through you; but then, like a switch had been flipped, his grin stretched impossibly wider, his painted cheeks crinkling unnaturally.
“Well, well,” he said, voice bubbling with false cheer, “I’m sure the ringmaster will make an exception for you and your friends. Speaking of which…” His gaze darted past you, his grin unwavering. “Where are the rest of the bunch?” His voice dipped lower, feigning casual curiosity while his eyes scanned the shadows behind you.
A chill ran down your spine as you realized you hadn’t even thought about your friends. “I… I’m here alone,” you admitted, unsure if that was the right answer. Every instinct screamed at you to turn back, but his painted face held you in place, a sinister magnetism radiating from him.
For a moment, Chenle’s body stilled, his movements unnaturally controlled. Then, his eyes widened with exaggerated excitement, and he gasped loudly, clasping his hands together in delight. “Even better!” he exclaimed, voice rising with manic glee. “Come on in and enjoy the show!”
With a grand sweep of his arm, he gestured toward the main tent, the light inside pulsating like a beating heart.
You hesitate before stepping forward, Chenle’s lingering gaze burning into the back of your head. A chill creeps down your spine, but you shake it off, convincing yourself this must all be a dream—nothing more than a figment of your imagination.
As you step into the tent, the world transforms into a chaotic burst of color and sound. Confetti rains down from above, swirling through the air like a storm of celebration. A thick rope stretches across the audience, separating them from the performers. Jesters glide effortlessly on unicycles, their painted faces lit by flickering stage lights. Clowns honk their oversized noses, their wide, artificial grins aimed directly at you as you pass.
Your eyes dart nervously around the space, searching for an escape or a distraction. The only open seat is at the very front of the stage, directly under the spotlight. Swallowing hard, you make your way toward it, each step weighted with unease. As you sit, you sense every pair of eyes in the room shifting toward you, an unspoken curiosity in their stares.
Beside you, a cloaked figure sits unnaturally still, his face hidden beneath a stark white mask. Slowly, almost too slowly, he turns his head to look at you. Without saying a word, he raises a hand and waves.
Your stomach twists, but you manage to lift your hand in return, offering a weak, trembling wave. A strange weight settles over you—a pull, almost magnetic, keeping you rooted to your seat. Every instinct screams at you to leave, to run back to your friends and the safety of the cabin, but your body refuses to move. It’s as though the air itself has wrapped around you, binding you in place.
“You must be new,” the masked figure says suddenly, his voice muffled but friendly.
Before you can respond, he lifts the mask, revealing a strikingly handsome face. His dark eyes are sharp yet cheery, his smile so charming it feels out of place in the eerie setting. The sight of him loosens some of the tension in your chest—he looks normal. Safe.
“I’m Jeno,” he says, extending a hand.
You hesitate before shaking it, introducing yourself. You study his features closely. There’s something oddly familiar about him, but you can’t place it. “You look… familiar.”
He chuckles softly, his laugh low and pleasant. “I think I’d remember a pretty face like yours.”
Your cheeks flush as you quickly glance away. The compliment feels genuine, but it catches you off guard, especially in such a surreal environment. “So, what is this place?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jeno leans back in his seat, a casual confidence in his posture. “It’s a late-night tradition that started a few years back,” he explains.
The timeline aligns with when you left for university, but unease creeps back into your chest. The way he speaks about the carnival feels rehearsed, as though he’s said these words to countless others before.
“The circus only comes around for special occasions,” Jeno continues, his voice steady but laced with something you can’t quite name. “This year’s theme is the blood moon. Guess they wanted to add a little extra mystery to the usual town festivities. This is my third year here. It’s funky, but fun.”
As he speaks, something clicks in the back of your mind. You’ve seen him before—or someone who looks like him. The memory is hazy, but it sharpens with every passing second. It was in a news article years ago, about a man who had gone missing from the area. The resemblance is uncanny.
Your throat tightens as you glance at him again, searching for any sign that he recognizes you, too. Jeno’s expression remains calm, unreadable. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, you tell yourself. Maybe the lights and the atmosphere are playing tricks on your mind.
“The show’s about to start,” Jeno says suddenly, breaking the silence. His lips curl into a sly smirk as he adjusts his mask back into place. “You don’t want to miss this.”
His words send a shiver through you. There’s something unsettling about the way he says it—playful, yet cryptic. Before you can respond, the stage lights dim, and the crowd erupts into cheers.
The curtains rise, revealing a kaleidoscope of performers in elaborate costumes. A dancer twirls at the center, her movements hypnotic under the spotlight. The air fills with a haunting melody, each note wrapping around you like a spell.
Jeno leans slightly closer, his mask glinting in the dim light. “You’ll want to pay attention to this part,” he whispers, his tone carrying an edge of excitement.
Your hands grip the edge of your seat as the performance unfolds, a sense of foreboding settling deep in your chest. Whatever this is, it’s far from ordinary.
The performance was truthfully very entertaining. You were engrossed by all the acts—the dances, the daring stunts, and even the silly little fights between the clowns. It wasn’t until the end of the performance that the spotlight shined on a few new faces standing at the center of the stage.
There were two men; the one on the right with striking white hair wore a tag that read “JAEMIN”, but it was the man in the center who immediately caught your eye.
He stood with an aura of confidence, his movements deliberate and captivating. The light reflected off his beautifully tan skin, and his black, slicked hair glistened under the stage lights. His dark eyes carried a heavy intensity, as though they could pierce right through you. He was dressed in all black, his fitted attire complemented by gloves and a cane, which seemed purely for dramatic flair. His name tag simply read, “HAECHAN.”
"As for the grand finale!" Haechan’s unique, rich voice echoed through the tent, pulling everyone into his gravity.
That voice. It sent a chill down your spine. Despite being front row, you found yourself leaning forward, desperate for a closer look. You cursed yourself for how intoxicating you found him, annoyed by your own curiosity and attraction.
Two assistants wheeled out a young man strapped to a table, his torso encased in a box, his face carried a nervous smile, betraying his unease.
“My lovely assistant here—” Haechan gestured toward Jaemin, whose smirk was both charming and sinister. ��Will perform our infamous sword box trick on the ever-so-gracious volunteer, Jisung.”
The crowd cheered wildly as Jaemin stepped forward, dramatically unsheathing a long, gleaming sword. He spun it in his hands with practiced precision, earning gasps and applause.
You, however, felt an unease prick at the back of your mind. Something about this didn’t feel like an ordinary performance.
Jaemin’s grin widened as he lined the sword up with the box. Haechan raised his arms dramatically, rallying the audience with his booming voice, “Ladies and gentlemen, I assure you, this is an illusion of the highest skill. Prepare yourselves for the impossible!”
Jaemin plunged the sword into the box with terrifying speed.
At first, you expected silence. For Jisung to feign a scream, for the illusion to go off without a hitch, but the sound that filled the tent wasn’t pretend.
Jisung’s screams were gut-wrenching, his body convulsing as blood spilled over the edges of the box.
The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, but you couldn’t move. The scene felt wrong—too real, too visceral.
You ran toward the stage, desperate to stop the performance. “Stop! He’s hurt! This isn’t a trick!”
The audience’s laughter turned into a low murmur, but Haechan’s gaze snapped to you like a predator locking onto prey. His lips curled into a grin, dark and calculating, his piercing eyes gleaming under the crimson light.
“You…” he murmured, almost inaudibly.
Jaemin, unfazed by the chaos, twirled another sword in his hand with eerie precision. “Time for the finale!” he announced, his voice dripping with showmanship.
“No!” you screamed, trying to climb over the rope line to reach the stage, but a pair of clowns grabbed your arms, pulling you back into the crowd.
Jaemin plunged the final sword into the box. Jisung’s screams echoed through the tent, chilling you to your core. Blood pooled from the base of the box, the metallic scent thick in the air.
Your heart pounded as tears pricked your eyes. “He’s dying!” you shouted, thrashing against the clowns holding you. “Somebody stop this!”
But the crowd roared with laughter and applause, cheering louder than ever as if nothing was wrong.
The lights flickered once, twice, and then everything went dark. Gasps rippled through the audience, and you froze in the suffocating darkness, your breath caught in your throat.
A single spotlight blazed back on, illuminating the stage.
Jisung was standing. His body was whole, unharmed, not a single trace of blood in sight. He stood beside Haechan and Jaemin, both of whom bowed deeply to the roaring crowd. Confetti rained down as if nothing had happened.
Your stomach churned. Your eyes darted between the three men on stage, your mind screaming at you that this wasn’t just a trick. You had seen the blood, heard the screams. It was real.
You shoved your way through the sea of clapping hands, panic and confusion clouding your thoughts. You needed to get out, to breathe, to make sense of this.
As you stumbled through the tent flap and into the night air, you collided with something—or rather, someone.
“Whoa there,” a smooth voice said. Strong hands steadied you, keeping you upright.
You looked up, your breath catching as you met Haechan’s intense gaze. His face was just as captivating up close, his dark eyes glittering with something unreadable.
“Leaving so soon?” he asked, his tone dripping with amusement. “The show’s only just begun.”
You took a step back, your body trembling. “What… What was that? That wasn’t a trick. I saw—”
“Blood?” he interrupted, his grin widening. “You must be mistaken. Our performers are highly skilled. It’s all an illusion.”
“No,” you said firmly, your voice shaking. “I know what I saw. That man—he was screaming—”
“Perhaps your imagination got the better of you,” he said, his tone smooth and condescending.
The way he stared at you, like a cat toying with a mouse, sent a wave of unease through you. You shook your head, taking another step back. “I need to leave.”
Haechan tilted his head, his grin never faltering. “Go ahead, but you’ll be back.”
His words clung to you like a curse as you turned and bolted, the sound of his low chuckle echoing behind you. You ran as far as your legs could carry you, not daring to look back. Dream or not, everything about this place felt wrong. Your chest heaved as you made it past the stand where Chenle once stood, and without a second thought, you made a beeline straight toward the exit.
Only to find yourself… entering again?
“W-What… No, no, no,” you stammered, panic settling deep in your bones. You turned and tried again, running faster, more desperately, but every time you crossed the threshold, you were spat back to the same spot.
It was like a cruel loop, trapping you in its surreal embrace.
“Stuck?” a smooth voice startled you.
You whipped around to find Haechan standing a few steps away, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. His gaze was dark and amused as he watched you, your chest rising and falling with frantic breaths.
“Let me out,” you demanded through gritted teeth, the fire in your voice masking the growing unease in your chest.
“Perhaps it’s best if you follow me,” he said, extending his arm toward you in an oddly polite gesture. “That’s if you truly wish to leave.”
You eyed him warily, your heart racing. There was something disarming about his charm, but every instinct screamed at you not to trust him. Still, what choice did you have? You nodded slowly, stepping toward him but ignoring his offered arm.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, his grin unwavering. He turned and began walking, and you hesitated for a moment before falling into step beside him.
The two of you weaved through the bustling carnival crowd. Strangely, people seemed to part like the sea as Haechan walked by. Some stopped to bow at him, their faces expressionless, while others whispered in hushed tones or pulled their companions out of his path.
You couldn’t ignore the growing question in your mind. Who is this man?
The further you walked, the quieter the carnival became. The music and laughter faded into an eerie stillness as Haechan led you away from the chaos and toward a secluded area far from the lights and festivities. Finally, you stopped in front of a large, ornate tent, its fabric shimmering under the crimson light of the blood moon.
“This is my home,” Haechan said, gesturing for you to step inside. “It’s quieter here. We can talk.”
You hesitated at the entrance, your gaze darting between him and the ominous structure. “What are you going to do?”
“Talk,” he repeated, his tone calm yet laced with impatience. “Unless you’d rather keep running in circles.”
Swallowing your fear, you stepped inside. The interior was surprisingly luxurious, adorned with plush velvet seating, velvet bedding, golden trinkets, and flickering candles that cast long shadows across the walls. It felt strangely intimate, though the air carried an unshakable sense of foreboding.
Haechan walked past you, settling into a chair and gesturing for you to sit across from him. Reluctantly, you obeyed.
“So,” you began, your voice shaky, “what is this place? Why can’t I leave?”
Haechan leaned back, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. “You’re stuck here,” he said simply. “Just like the rest of us.”
His nonchalance sent a chill down your spine. “Stuck? What do you mean?”
“This carnival isn’t what it seems,” he said, his tone growing somber. “Everyone you’ve seen tonight—the performers, the guests, even me—aren’t alive in the way you understand. We’re spirits, cursed to live in an endless cycle.”
Your heart sank as his words sank in. “Why? Why are you cursed?”
Haechan’s smirk faltered for the first time, replaced by a distant, pained expression. “Because of me,” he admitted. “Years ago, I made a mistake. I was desperate to save someone I loved, my best friend Mark. He… died too young, too tragically. I couldn’t accept it.”
Your breath caught. “What did you do?”
“I summoned something,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “A dark entity, one that promised to bring Mark back in exchange for a price. I thought it would be something simple. I was wrong.”
His jaw tightened, and his hands curled into fists. “The price was this carnival. My soul, and the lost souls of those who entered, would belong to the entity. We would perform endlessly, night after night, to entertain it. As long as Mark remains alive, this cycle continues.”
Your stomach churned. “If Mark is alive after all these years, can’t you stop? Can’t you break the cycle?”
Haechan shook his head. “Mark probably doesn’t remember me, his soul is forever immortal, and I can’t leave. The demon made sure of that. I’m trapped here, forever watching over this hellish spectacle.”
His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of his confession suffocating. You stared at him, trying to process everything. The charming, confident man you had seen earlier now looked vulnerable, haunted by centuries of regret.
“But why me?” you asked. “Why am I stuck here?”
“I don’t know,” Haechan admitted, his gaze locking with yours. “But the fact that you’re here, that you can see through the glamour, means you’re different— and that terrifies me.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat. You couldn’t deny the pull you felt toward him, the way his pain resonated with you. Yet, the thought of being trapped here forever sent shivers down your spine.
Haechan’s voice softened. “I’m sorry you’ve been dragged into this, but if you want to survive here, or at least find a way out before sunrise, you’ll need to trust me.”
His words left you conflicted. Trust him? The man who admitted to summoning a dark entity and cursing countless lives? Yet, as his dark eyes searched yours, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was your only ally in this twisted nightmare.
Haechan sat across from you in the quiet solace of his tent, the air heavy with the weight of the truth he’d just revealed. His expression softened as he leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together.
“This tent has been glamoured,” he explained. “No spirit, entity, or curse can touch us here. It’s the only place where you’re safe.”
You glanced around the dimly lit space, noticing the intricate symbols etched into the canvas walls. A faint hum seemed to vibrate through the air, a quiet magic you couldn’t quite grasp. Though his words were meant to reassure you, they only deepened your confusion.
“You’re telling me this whole carnival, everyone here… they’re lost spirits?” you asked, your voice trembling.
He nodded solemnly. “Every single one. Bound here to perform endlessly. Now, you’re a part of it, only you’re alive.”
The words hit you like a punch to the chest. You were desperate to find an answer, to find a way out, but as your thoughts spiraled, flashes of your past came unbidden; your mother’s gentle voice as she read you bedtime stories, the warm glow of your father’s laugh as he told you tales of old, and the cryptic conversations you’d had with them before they passed.
“Sweetheart, you have a light in you,” your mother had once said, her hand brushing against your cheek. “One day, that light will guide you somewhere important.”
“But why me?” you whispered to yourself, the memory blurring into the present.
Haechan’s voice broke through your reverie. “You’re holding something back. What is it?”
You hesitated, unwilling to share the lingering suspicion that your parents had somehow lured you here. Instead, you shook your head. “Nothing… I just—this doesn’t make sense.”
Haechan frowned but didn’t press further. “There’s one place that might help you understand,” he said after a pause. “The Mirror Maze.”
“The Mirror Maze?” you repeated, the name alone sending a chill down your spine.
He nodded, his tone more serious now. “It’s where no performer dares to go. The maze reveals the deepest fears and memories of anyone who steps inside. It’s dangerous, unpredictable. Even I can’t enter, it’s the one place my spirit doesn’t have power.”
Your breath caught in your throat. “So, you think it might help me?”
“I’m not completely sure,” he admitted. “But if there’s a clue about why you’re here—or how to break the curse—it might be there, and as someone whose still alive, you’re the only one who can find out.”
You felt a lump form in your throat but nodded, “Take me there.”
The entrance to the Mirror Maze loomed before you, a twisted archway draped in dark velvet, the words “Face Thyself” etched ominously above it. Haechan stopped at the threshold, his expression grim.
“This is as far as I can go,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours. “Be careful. The maze doesn’t lie, and it doesn’t show mercy.”
You swallowed hard, stepping through the archway. Instantly, the air grew cold, the dim light of the carnival fading behind you. The mirrors stretched endlessly in every direction, reflecting distorted versions of yourself—some familiar, some eerily foreign.
“Hello?” you called out, your voice echoing.
The reflections shimmered, and suddenly, the maze came to life.
One mirror glowed brighter than the rest, drawing your attention. In its reflection, you saw Haechan, but not as you knew him. His black suit was replaced with simple, worn clothes. His laughter rang out as he was with a younger man, under a summer sun.
“Donghyuck, don’t go!” His voice echoed through the maze, his fragile frame chasing after him.
“Mark…?” you gasped, recognizing the younger version of the name Haechan had mentioned.
The scene shifted, they’re older now. Mark was lying in a clearing, blood staining his clothes. Haechan kneeled beside him, his hands shaking as he tried to stop the bleeding. Tears streaked down his face as he begged, “Don’t leave me. Please, I’ll do anything.”
The air grew colder as the mirror rippled, revealing Haechan standing alone in the same clearing. His expression was hollow as he held a weathered book, its pages inked with symbols that seemed to crawl across the surface. His voice was shaky, desperate.
“I’ll give anything,” he whispered into the void. “Bring him back.”
A dark figure emerged from the shadows, its form obscured by smoke and tendrils of darkness. Though its face was hidden, the presence was suffocating. The entity’s voice slithered through the air, low and haunting.
“Anything, you say?” it hissed. “Love, devotion, life—pour it all into this wish, and you shall have what you desire.”
Haechan didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Take it all. Just bring Mark back.”
The scene shifted again, and you watched as the entity consumed Haechan’s love, twisting it into a curse. The same love that fueled his wish now tethered him to the carnival, an eternal performer trapped in a cycle to entertain the entity.
The mirror rippled once more, and your reflection appeared. Only, it wasn’t just you. Your parents stood beside you, their faces hollow and eyes void of life.
“You let us go,” your mother’s voice accused. “You couldn’t save us.”
“Stop!” you cried, reaching for the reflection, but the glass was cold and unyielding.
“Your light is fading,” your father added, his voice cruel and distant. “Now, you’ll be trapped here forever.”
The reflection twisted, and suddenly, you were staring at yourself—alone, aged, and hollow-eyed, forever wandering the carnival grounds.
“No!” you screamed, stumbling backward. The surrounding mirrors cracked with a deafening noise, sending you into a panic.
You bolted through the maze, desperate to escape. At last, you stumbled out of the exit, gasping for air as you collapsed onto the grass.
“Breathe,” Haechan’s voice said urgently as he crouched beside you, his hands steadying you. His palm rubbed circles on your back, and the sensation sent a jolt through you—a feeling almost electric. Your skin buzzed where he touched you, and a strange familiarity bloomed in your chest.
He felt it too. His hand froze for a split second before he continued, brushing it off as you did. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”
Your chest heaved as you clung to him, the images still flashing in your mind. “I saw you. I saw your past—Donghyuck.”
Haechan froze, his grip on you tightening. “How do you know that name?”
“It was in the maze,” you whispered. “That’s your real name, isn’t it?”
He nodded slowly, his eyes dark and unreadable. “It is.”
“What happened?” you asked, your voice trembling.
He hesitated, but then his shoulders sagged, and he looked at you with a vulnerability you hadn’t seen before. “I made a mistake—a terrible one. And now we’re all paying the price for it.”
Your breaths had finally steadied, but the weight of what you'd just seen pressed heavily on your chest. The air around him seemed heavier now, his usual confidence dimmed by the vulnerability in his expression. His hand lingered on your back, as though grounding both himself and you.
"Donghyuck," you began softly, "how did Mark really die? And why did you have that book?"
His body stiffened, and for a moment, you thought he might brush off the question. Then his hand fell away, and he exhaled deeply, running a hand through his dark hair.
"I guess you deserve to know," he muttered, his voice thick with regret. "Mark... he wasn't just my best friend. He was like a brother to me. We did everything together-built dreams, made plans, fought over stupid things, but one day, everything changed.”
You stayed silent, giving him space to continue. He shifted uncomfortably, his eyes fixed on a spot on the ground, as if he couldn't bear to meet your gaze.
"I found this book," he said finally. "It was old, leather-bound, and covered in strange symbols. It looked like something out of a bad horror movie. I thought it was a joke-a prop someone left behind in a dusty attic, but the more I read, the more... real it felt. The spells in it, they worked.”
"Spells?" you echoed, your heart pounding.
He nodded. "At first, it was little things. Moving objects, changing the weather, making small things happen that shouldn't have been possible. I didn't think about the consequences—was too caught up in the power. I thought I could do anything. Be anything."
He paused, his jaw tightening. "Then... one day, Mark and I got into a fight. It was over something so stupid I can't even remember it now—but I was angry-so angry.
I let the power go to my head. I used the energy l'd built up from practicing the spells.
I wanted to scare him, to make him stop yelling. I didn't realize how strong l'd gotten.
He swallowed hard, his voice breaking. "The energy hit him full force. It wasn't just a scare—it... It killed him. Right there in front of me.”
Your breath hitched. "Oh my god..."
Haechan's hands trembled as he continued.
"I was devastated. I didn't mean to-he was my best friend. I'd do anything to take it back. That's when the book showed me something else; a way to bring him back."
He glanced at you, his dark eyes filled with shame. "I didn't care about the cost. I summoned... something. An entity. It promised to bring Mark back, but l'd have to trade my soul and spend eternity entertaining it."
"And Mark?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
"He was brought back... somewhere," Haechan said, his voice hollow. " I haven’t seen him since. It's like he exists in the world, but I can't reach him. I've been stuck here ever since, performing for the entity that cursed me. Reminding me of my past and reminding me I can never get my best friend back.”
You look at Donghyuck, his eyes reflecting the faint glow of the carnival’s lights, and feel a knot tighten in your chest. The pieces are starting to come together, though they’re jagged and painful to hold. “My parents,” you say hesitantly, your voice low but steady. “They died so suddenly. It never made sense. Now… Now I think their souls are tied here, just like the others. Maybe that’s why I was lured here. Maybe it wasn’t just this place calling to me—it was them.”
Donghyuck’s expression falters, the angry glint in his eyes replaced by something more somber. He doesn’t speak right away, and you press on, needing him to confirm what your heart already knows. “You knew them, didn’t you?”
He shakes his head, his gaze steady but solemn. “No,” he says firmly. “I didn’t know your parents, but if their souls really are tethered to this place like we think they are, then we need to break the curse now. We can’t waste any more time.”
The air feels heavy, almost suffocating, as the truth settles over you. All this time, the whispers had felt familiar, like the voices of the people you’d lost. Now you understand why—they weren’t just figments of the curse. They were real. “So, if I help you break the curse…” You look at him, your voice tightening with emotion. “I can free them too?”
He meets your gaze, the vulnerability in his eyes raw and unguarded. “If we do this right, yes. You can free them. The others too. All of us.”
The thought of freeing not just your parents, but every soul trapped in this wretched carnival, stirs something fierce inside you. “Then I’ll help you,” you say, the words firm and sure. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”
Donghyuck’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he looks like you’ve spoken a foreign language. “You’d really want to help me?” he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief and something else—hope.
“Yes,” you say, stepping closer. “We don’t have much time. This place resets at dawn, right? We need to get to your tent and find that spell book.”
He nods, snapping out of his shock. “Follow me,” he says, leading you through the twisting paths of the carnival. The whispers grow louder as you walk, almost guiding your steps. Despite the danger ahead, you feel a strange sense of clarity. This is where you’re meant to be, and for the first time, you believe you have the power to change how this story ends.
The weight of the spell book feels heavy in your hands, its leather cover pulsating faintly with an eerie warmth, as if alive. You stare at it, your mind racing with the realization that has gripped you. The darkness that spurs out of it. The book itself—this cursed, vile object—has been the entity all along. It’s not just a tool; it’s the root of everything. The curse. The carnival. The cycle. The deaths. It’s a trap.
Donghyuck stands frozen, his dark eyes widen with fear, realizing your intentions. “Stop— you can’t destroy it,” he says, his voice trembling. “If you do that, there’s no way out. No way to help me. No way to help Mark. No way for us to ever—” His voice cracks, and for the first time, you hear true desperation in his tone. “Please.”
You step closer, gripping the book tighter. “Donghyuck, I know this is hard. But this—this thing—it’s been keeping all of us trapped. You, Mark, my parents, everyone. If we don’t destroy it, the cycle will just keep going.”
His hands shake as he runs them through his hair, pacing frantically. “You don’t understand,” he mutters. “Without it, I’ll lose everything. I won’t even get to know what’s next. What if this—this emptiness—is all that’s waiting for me? What if I can’t see you or Mark again?” His voice softens, breaking under the weight of his words. “I’m scared.”
You reach out, your hand brushing his arm, and the familiar electric spark flickers between you. “Donghyuck,” you say, your voice steady. “I don’t know what’s waiting for you, either, but isn’t that better than this? Better than being stuck in a place that’s killing you over and over again? You have to give it some faith. We’ll figure it out. Together.”
His gaze meets yours, the walls he’s built around himself crumbling as tears well in his eyes. Slowly, he nods, swallowing hard. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. Do it.”
You take a deep breath and open the book. The pages are stiff, almost glued together by some unseen force. You try pulling at one, but it doesn’t budge, no matter how hard you tug. A frustrated sob escapes you as you glance back at Donghyuck, his expression torn between fear and hope.
Closing your eyes, you think about your parents—the love they had for you, their unwavering belief in doing what was right. You think about Mark and the unyielding bond he shared with Donghyuck, the lengths Donghyuck went to for him. Love, in all its forms, floods your chest, and with it comes strength. When you pull again, the page tears free with an audible crack, bursting into flames before disintegrating into dust.
One by one, you tear the pages. Each piece of paper ignites, dissolving into nothingness. The room grows heavier with every rip, the air charged with an otherworldly energy. Donghyuck watches, his breath hitching, his body tense. When the last page burns away, the book’s cover collapses into ash in your hands, leaving only silence behind.
“What have you done?” Donghyuck whispers, his voice shaking. “What if it didn’t work?”
Before you can respond, a soft glow fills the tent. You turn to see a figure stepping through the curtain, translucent but unmistakably familiar. “Mark…” Donghyuck breathes, his voice cracking as tears spill down his cheeks.
The two of them stare at each other for a moment that feels eternal, before Donghyuck stumbles forward, wrapping Mark in an embrace that somehow feels real despite the faint shimmer of his form. “I’m so sorry,” Donghyuck sobs. “For everything. I was selfish. I—I ruined everything.”
Mark smiles gently, his own voice thick with emotion. “You did what you thought you had to, Hyuck. I was never angry. I just wanted you to be okay.” He pulls back slightly, his hand resting against Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You saved me, you gave your life for me.”
The glow around Mark intensifies as his spirit begins to fade. Donghyuck chokes on a sob, whispering a tearful goodbye as Mark disappears into the light.
Then, more figures appear. Your parents. Their familiar faces send a fresh wave of tears streaming down your cheeks. They smile warmly, pride shining in their eyes. “You’ve done it,” your mother says, her voice soft but steady. “We’re so proud of you.”
“We can finally rest now,” your father adds, his hand reaching out as if to brush your cheek. “We love you. Thank you, sweetheart.”
You try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked sob. They give you one last look, filled with love and peace, before their forms dissolve, leaving you standing in the silence of Donghyuck’s tent.
Donghyuck steps forward, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice raw. “For everything.”
For a moment, the spark between you flickers, faint but unmistakable. You feel his warmth, his touch, and for a fleeting second, you wonder how it’s possible. As the weight of the moment settles, you let it go, clinging to the sense of hope that remains. Together, you’ve broken the cycle—and for the first time, the future feels like your own.
“Will I ever get to see you again?” you ask, your voice trembling as you look up at him, your eyes pleading for an answer you’re not sure whether you’re ready to hear.
Donghyuck’s breath hitches, and for a moment, he just stares at you, his golden eyes shining with a mix of longing and sorrow. Slowly, he steps closer, his hands trembling as they come up to cradle your face. His touch is warm, grounding, and for the first time, it doesn’t spark—it burns, searing this moment into your soul.
“I don’t know,” he whispers, his voice cracking. “But I wish I could stay here with you. For just a little longer.”
Before you can respond, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that feels like both a goodbye and a desperate plea to hold onto the moment. His hands tighten slightly, as though he’s afraid you’ll slip away, and you can feel the raw emotion pouring from him—fear, gratitude, and a deep, unspoken connection that neither of you can fully explain.
The world seems to fall away around you, the weight of the carnival, the curse, and the souls you’ve freed fading into the background. All that matters is him—the warmth of his lips, the way his fingers gently press against your skin, and the silent promise you feel between you.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath shallow and uneven. “Thank you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “For saving me. For saving all of us.”
Your hands rest over his, still cupping your face, and you close your eyes, letting the moment linger even though you know it can’t last forever. “We’ll find a way,” you murmur. “I don’t know how, but we’ll find a way.”
His lips curve into the faintest, bittersweet smile. “If anyone could, it’s you.”
You smile up at him, unable to resist the pull any longer. Giving in to your temptations, you grab him by the collar and tug him down into another kiss, this one more fervent, more consuming. His lips crash against yours with a desperation that matches your own, as though you're both trying to cling to the moment, to each other, for as long as the universe will allow.
Everything had worked out—Mark was free, your parents had moved on—yet he was still here. Still with you. You both knew this borrowed time wasn't guaranteed, but that only made it more precious. You kissed through gasping breaths, every exhale mingling with his as the burning connection between you grew hotter, fiercer.
It was now or never.
The kiss deepens suddenly, urgency overtaking the both of you. He presses you back, guiding you until you stumble against the velvet bed in the center of the room. His hands trail along your body, tentative at first but quickly growing bolder as you pull him closer, refusing to let even a sliver of space come between you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your touch setting every nerve alight as that fire you've felt since the beginning roars to life.
The world outside the tent fades entirely. All you can feel is him-his lips, his hands, the way his heart ironically pounds against yours. That burning sensation builds, but it isn't just desire-it's something deeper, something ancient. This feeling, this moment, is what you were meant for. It's as though your very soul recognizes his, as though you've been tethered together through time and fate and whatever lies beyond.
This is where you belong. This is who you belong with, and you're both finally allowing yourselves to embrace it.
Your body sinks into the mattress as he hovers over you, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that makes it feel like he can see straight through your clothes. The weight of his gaze causes heat to rise in your cheeks, and you turn your head slightly, unable to meet his eyes. He notices instantly.
"Hey, it's okay," he murmurs softly, his voice low and reassuring. "You're safe with me. I'll take good care of you tonight, the way you did for me."
His words, gentle but filled with conviction, send a shiver down your spine. His voice alone stirs something deep inside you, and the heat pooling between your legs grows unbearable. You press your thighs together instinctively, seeking any kind of relief.
"Dong...hyuck..." you whimper, his name falling from your lips like a plea.
The sound draws a heavy grunt from his throat, primal and raw. Hearing his real name come from you like that seems to undo something in him, fogging his mind completely. He leans closer, his hands moving to the edges of your clothes. Slowly, almost reverently at first, he begins to slide them off, tossing each piece aside with little care for where they land. His focus is entirely on you, the fire between you growing with every passing second.
You join him, a soft moan escaping your lips at the sight of his unbuttoned dress shirt slipping off to reveal his golden-toned torso.
The way the red moon light dances across his skin makes your breath hitch. Without hesitation, he yanks the shirt off completely, quickly discarding his pants as well, leaving the both of you in nothing but your undergarments.
He notices the dazed look in your eyes and takes advantage of the moment, gently lifting one of your legs. The movement exposes the damp patch at your clothed core, and his breath hitches audibly. A low moan escapes his throat as he lowers his head closer, his lips just brushing against the fabric.
"So desperate for me, aren't you?" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." His breath fans over the dampened spot, which only grows darker with every passing second, his words and closeness pushing you further into blissful surrender.
He starts kissing over it, his lips applying pressure exactly to where your clit is, causing you to squirm around.
“Please… I want more,” you beg desperately, looking down at the sight of him teasing you.
Locking eye contact together, he rips off the last piece of your clothing, he starts licking up every bit of your juices that started leaking out of you. Your hand immediately reaches for his hair like a reflex, and you push his head closer to you, not wanting a split second of separation.
Donghyuck moans against your cunt, bringing his fingers to your entrance, and plunging them inside of you while his mouth starts playing with your clit.
He releases his mouth, a popping sound echoing throughout the tent when he does so. His fingers still working on your insides—he refuses to take his eyes off your face as it scrunches in pleasure.
“My own personal heaven,” he whispers to himself.
He feels your insides squeezing around his fingers, reaching your climax.
“Hold it for me baby, I want you to cum around my cock,” he whines, that alone nearly causing you to finish.
He slides his fingers out of you, and your eyes start to water—missing the feeling of him so close to you. You didn’t realize your tears were starting to trickle down your face until he kissed them away, adjusting your hair out of your face as he positioned you up.
“It’s okay baby, shhh, it’s all going to be okay,” he holds you gently, flipping you over so this time you were arching right into his tip, your head pressing against the pillow now damp from your previous tears.
“I know you want this as badly as I do, isn’t that right, babe?” He snickers, teasing the both of you as he continues to only insert his tip in and out of you.
An almost animalistic groan escapes your lips as you cry out, “I can’t take it… Please, Donghyuck, I’m begging you!”
“Begging me to do what?” he teases, his voice low and challenging as he tests your resolve.
“Fuck me—Please Hyuck just please—Fuck!” You scream as he plunges his full length into you.
His grip tightens on your ass as he yanks you closer, pounding into you harder by the second.
“Acting like such an angel, but look at you. You like it rough, don’t you? Drooling everywhere all because of me,” he grunts through each thrust.
He grabs your hand and guides you to your clit, making you rub it in circles while he continues to go deeper.
“Donghyuck… I’m going to…” your voice shakes.
“Do it. Cum all over me baby, I’m so close,” he demands.
In a blink of an eye, you’re now squeezing all over his length, chasing your high. Your eyes completely roll back as you continue to scream his name, your voice echoing.
Soon after, he follows you, releasing himself inside you with a deep groan, his movements slowing but never stopping, even as the two of you grow sensitive. It's as if he can't bear to let even a single part of himself go to waste.
Finally, he collapses beside you, both of you turning to face the pointed ceiling of the tent. Your breaths are ragged, your chests rising and falling in unison, but slowly, they begin to even out.
Suddenly, you feel his arms wrap tightly around you, his breath warm against your ear. "That was perfect," he murmurs, his voice husky and satisfied.
You let out a soft chuckle, a hum of contentment escaping your lips. "Yeah, it was." For a fleeting moment, you allow yourself to bask in the warmth of his embrace, but the growing light filtering into the tent pulls you back to reality. The sun is rising, its golden rays piercing through the fabric, and with it comes a sinking realization: this might be the last time you see him.
You turn to him, your heart clenching with fear and sadness. He notices instantly, his eyes meeting yours, reading the emotions written plainly across your face.
Without a word, he places a tender kiss against your forehead, his lips lingering there as though trying to reassure you.
When he pulls back, his voice is clear, steady, and almost too calm. "Don't worry, love. It's just the two of us now. Just us, forever."
Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes widen. You push yourself up, staring at him with growing dread. "What do you mean, forever?" you ask, your voice trembling as you swallow hard.
An eerie yet soft grin spreads across his face, a look that chills you to your core. “I made one last wish before you tore the book," he says, his tone light but filled with something darker beneath the surface.
The color drains from your face as his words sink in, dread washing over you in waves.
"What... what did you wish for?" you whisper, though part of you already knows.
"I didn't need the power, the magic, or even my friendships to set me free," he continues, his gaze never leaving yours. "I needed you. Now that I have you, I'm never letting you go."
The sun streams through the tent, lighting up his features in a way that should be comforting, but instead fills you with icy terror. His eyes glint with yearning, his arms tightening around you as though he's afraid you'll disappear. You lie there frozen, realization dawning like the sunrise breaking across his face.
You'd set everyone else free, but in doing so, you'd unwittingly trapped yourself.
He was the real entity all along—and now, you belonged to him. Your soul tied to his, forever.
#haechan#nct#lee haechan#lee donghyuck#nct dream#nct 127#donghyuck#nct u#haechan fanfic#nct haechan#donghyuck smut#donghyuck x reader#haechan smut#haechan x reader#mark lee#haechan angst#haechan scenarios#donghyuck scenarios#nct donghyuck#haechan au#donghyuck au#donghyuck imagines#haechan fic#mark nct#donghyuck angst#nct 127 x reader#haechan ff#donghyuck ff
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skating with you | nct lee donghyuck | haechan
Haechan leans his forehead to yours as your icy noses brush against each other, “Eyes on me, bubs,” he whispers.
pairing » nct lee donghyuck (haechan) x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)
trope/au » established relationship au!, holiday theme!
genre » fluffy fluff fluff!, cheeky and slightly flirty haechan, and slightly flustered reader...?, cutie boyfriend haechan, no. 1 supportive and caring haechan, reader doesn't really know how to skate and haechan helps you through it, it's all so very lovely (and i need someone to help me skate-)
word count; estimated reading time » 850; ~4 mins
warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » none!
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist
is this my last upload of the year...? we shall see!!
“If I fall flat on my face, this will be your fault,” your threat only seems harmless to your boyfriend.
Haechan skates further away from you, lightly showing off his skills of skating backward gracefully, even adding light twirl patterns on the ice. Meanwhile, you’re left at the rink's perimeter, hands gripping for support and eyes squinting playfully at your delightful boyfriend. You have no idea why you thought it was a good idea to go skating when you have minimal experience and are the clumsiest person you know. But Haechan had to jut his lower lip, eyebrows shaped into mountains to your poor heart. How could you say no to that face?
But, your weakness in saying no to your boyfriend has led you here. In the public ice skating arena. Back leaning onto the wall for dear life.
It’s been thirty minutes yet you haven’t made much progress from the entrance of the rink. Maybe it’s your fear of falling or the fear of competent younger children snickering at you falling to your knees. Haechan has made a few rounds around, even entertaining others with little tricks. Watching him from afar made your heart warm as others realised how lovable your boyfriend is. Children reach for a high five, adults smiling at the small talk or encouragement he would send as he passes by.
“Wanna hold my hand now?” Haechan skates beside you.
You've rejected the last few offers, determined to do at least half of the oval rink by yourself; you and the wall beside you. But balancing yourself on a somewhat thin metal as your knees shake with tensed muscles is taking more energy than you expected.
You give in, slumping your back on the wall, elbows propped up as you lean. “I just need to rest first.”
Haechan chuckles at you, making a final push on the ice to skate to you. His arms cage you between his frame, closing significant space between you both. Your eyes widen at his bold action, cheeks and neck heating at the fond eyes he’s placing upon your orbs. His eyelashes flutter prettily upon your features, a soft smile forming its way into your boyfriend’s place. The rowdy noises of the kids, metal swishing and passing behind Haechan all blur when Haechan steadies your once-leaning figure to stand with his hands securely encasing your waist.
It’s too bad that the cold temperature has you bundled up in a few layers or else you could feel the relaxing motion of his thumb caressing your side.
Haechan leans his forehead to yours as your icy noses brush against each other, “Eyes on me, bubs,” he whispers.
As per his words, you lock your eyes with him, only closing them once or twice when you’re fully supported by him. Your forearm instinctively rests on top of his, occasionally pushing them down due to your nervousness, still afraid of slipping and toppling over Haechan, potentially hurting both of you in the process.
“Don’t worry,” he eases your mind, pressing a quick kiss on your colder lips. “You’re going to be alright,” pressing his lips to yours again, leaving them there for a bit longer. “I’m not going to let you fall,” perfectly stealing your lips once more after you hum an acknowledgement to his words. “If you fall, it’s only going to be in my arms.”
You should’ve known he would sneak in a cheesy line or two, and your laughter makes you forget your anxiousness about being on the ice. Slowly, Haechan skates backwards again, this time with you in his hold. Admittedly, this has been his plan from the very start: to have you close like this as you conquer your fear and challenge; you’re not going to complain about this either.
Haechan is a great skating teacher, pulling and guiding you out of your comfort ice. Both of you dance in the rink for an hour together. It starts with you facing him as he distracts you from paying too much attention to what your body is doing, instead prompting you to naturally let you relax into the situation. Then slowly, he takes his place next to you, his palm holding your forearm. Then, linking hands together for the final stage before he lets you go after you find the confidence to brave the environment once more.
You almost lost your balance for a while, hunching your back to hold your knee. “You can do it!” Your boyfriend hollers encouragement behind you. Soon those words become more familiar, your proud boyfriend behind you stealing everyone’s attention at your successful solo skating.
You did a full lap with no support from him or the wall. You leap into Haechan’s arm at the end line, Haechan littering kisses all over your face. The golden hour highlights his face, his smiling beaming further from the rays of the sun.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have been such a good teacher. And you shouldn’t be so talented either!” Your eyebrows raise at his words, unsure of where he’s going, “Now, you won’t need my help anymore…”
navi/masterlist!! 🤍 nct dream masterlist
tags: @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @ncity-net
@haneul-and-clouds
#k-labels#✩⋆⁺₊ k-films — advent calendar#bjnet#kstrucknet#haechan x reader#ncity-net#lee donghyuck x reader#haechan x you#haechan fluff#haechan imagines#haechan soft hours#lee donghyuck fluff#lee haechan#lee donghyuck#haechan scenarios#haechan#nct#nct dream#nct fluff#nct imagines#nct scenarios#nct x reader#nct fanfic#nct drabbles#nct dream fluff#nct dream imagines#nct dream x reader#nct dream scenarios#nct dream x y/n#nct dream fic
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masterlist — previous — next!
notes: hi guys!! omg im so sorry for not updating sooner </3 ive been so exhausted lately i just feel like i have something to do everyday and i literally just wanna sleep sigh... also happy holidays to all of u guys that are reading this rn ♡
taglist: @4amirwin @wonbin-truther @hearts4hee @jungaji @sundamariis @urlovelily @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @injunnie-lemon @luvvhaechan @douqhnxtss @tynlvr @haesluvr @hcluvie @pinknjm @nanaxwi @catpjimin @slayhaechan @awktwurtle @myfavoritedelusion @stqrgr7 @t-102 @jianreadsaus @haechanhues @gomdoleemyson @hyuckmoon @haechology @mystverse @hyuckies18 @sunflowerbebe07 @jae-n0 @onlyforyoukook @yizhrt @gwookie @zzzmrk @kukkurookkoo @nightcat101 @tinyelfperson @haefelt @haechsworld @tenjyucat @worldwidecutiemaya @sunghoonsgfreal @snoopyjimin @ypoom151999 @meowtella @honeynanamin @haechanmybaechan @nctrawberries @nosungluv
#haechan#haechan fanfic#haechan smau#haechan x reader#haechan x y/n#haechan x you#nct dream smau#nct dream social media au#nct dream x reader#nct dream texts#nct 127 smau#nct smau#nct fanfic#haechan texts#nct fake texts#nct texts#haechan social media au#nct 127 social media au#nct social au#nct social media au#nct 127 x reader#nct x you#nct x reader#nct imagines#nct drabbles#nct fluff#nct 127 x you#nct 127 scenarios#haechan imagines#nct dream
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we’ve been fed today yummy
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͚𝆬 𝃞 ೃᰰ࿔ got the music in you baby, tell me why 𝃞 ◌๋ 𝅘ྀི𝅥
#❀ൄ flyocide#divider by pommecita#kpop moodboard#gg moodboard#messy moodboard#lq moodboard#visual moodboard#archive moodboard#visual archive#alternative moodboard#alt moodboard#2000s moodboard#y2k moodboard#vintage moodboard#cute moodboard#coquette moodboard#black moodboard#grunge moodboard#blue moodboard#random moodboard#amino moodboard#nct moodboard#nct haechan#haechan#haechan icons#haechan moodboard#kpop aesthetic#kpop icons#messy icons#gg icons
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Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ~ he got you goonin
previous ~ masterlist ~ next
a/n: i love jisung, i wish he was real :((((
taglist (open): @miyawwn @nanaxwi @mystverse @mmoonlee @chenlesfavorite @dudekiss3r @honeynanamin @haefelt @nneteyamss @iamsimplyasimp @roseangelxfuma @haechsworld @hyuck-me @catpjimin @toyoongg @sthwaaberry @kim-seungmins-gf @sunghoonsgfreal @sunflowerhae @galacticnct @slayhaechan @multifandomania @jasluvsjae @injunnie-lemon @swanyvess @hahaechans @aerivrs @kirbrary @akunoeyebrows @thegracerammy @snowyseungs @keeryverse @alethea-moon @flaminghotyourmom @elsbunny @introvertatitsfinest @ypoom151999 @1starqi @emptynote @wonswondrland @smilefordongil @onlyforyoukook @gomdoleemyson @jaehyunandonly @kukkurookkoo @lampcults @nightcat101 @hyuckna25 @yanagisprettygf @readingcucumber
(if the tag doesn’t go through, plz check your privacy settings ☺️)
#viasdreams#nct#nct texts#nct x reader#nct fake texts#nct fanfic#nct imagines#nct dream#nct dream texts#nct smau#nct x y/n#nct x you#nct dream smau#nct dream x y/n#nct dream x you#nct dream x reader#nct 127#nct 127 x you#nct 127 smau#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 fic#nct haechan#haechan#lee haechan#lee donghyuck#haechan smau#haechan x reader#haechan fanfic#haechan x y/n#haechan x you
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MISTLETOE
synopsis: Ugly sweaters, roasting marshmallows, filling stockings, and visiting the markets— Christmas is all about tradition, right? After years of spending the holidays away from home, you and Haechan revive your favourite Christmas tradition, and perhaps adopt a new one too.
wc: 2k
pairings: (v slight) brothers bsf! haechan × fem! reader
genre: fluff
warnings: one(?) swear word
notes: was feeling homesick, so I wrote this, kinda different to how I usually write, I think
also big love to my cute mooties @winwintea + @suzayaaa for reading this for me (and fixing up my horrific grammar 🫠) ily so much 🫶🫶
It's the most beautiful time of the year
Lights fill the streets, spreading so much cheer
It was a chilly evening, just a week before Christmas, and you were curled up on the couch in your grandmother's home.
It was tradition— the lead-up to Christmas spent in this small cottage that had just the right amount of space for your huge family game nights and bake offs. You take a moment to look around.
The soft glow of the Christmas tree lights filled the room, the one you'd helped decorate the second it hit December first, and the fireplace crackled beside you, comforting, cosy, and beautifully nostalgic.
This was the first Christmas you'd been able to spend with your folks in years.
It was only fair you felt the warmth of the living room wrap around you, grounding you in a way that felt both familiar and comforting, You missed this. Somehow you still felt a smile tugging at your lips as you thought back to last year.
Christmas dinner with your flatmates had been a disaster—burnt potatoes and a mystery bird in the oven that you still weren’t sure was chicken or turkey, potentially neither.
A total fail, you had to admit, but you sure did have the best honey glazed carrots of your life. It was a warm feeling, and perhaps in some strange way, you almost missed it, but nothing could compare to being home.
You really had missed this.
“That happy to see me, huh?”
You hadn't realised when he'd walked through the door— which considering you were currently home alone spoke volumes about your lack of spatial awareness, but you recognised him in an instant.
Black wavy hair parted roughly through the middle, specks of white scattered across his face and melting into his black coat, you'd recognise that face anywhere— Lee Haechan.
The guy who spent a few too many nights in your childhood home, playing video games, lounging around and crashing on the couch every so often.
Time seems to have treated him well, because if he wasn't before, he was cute as fuck now, and you certainly weren't ashamed to stare. Although your increasingly pink cheeks certainly didn't do you any favours even if you had intended to hide that fact.
“Haechan, it's been a while.” You spoke, making one swift move to hoist yourself up off the couch and make your way towards him.
“Too long, apparently, you haven't called me that in years”
He’s right, and though it's been months since you saw him, you still recognise the slither of hurt that lingers in the space between you.
Sure, you had stayed in touch through one too many spontaneous video calls, but something about seeing him in person again had you scratching the back of your neck.
You laugh awkwardly. Finally reaching the space in front of him you wipe your sweaty palms across the ugly Christmas sweater that your grandma had forced you to wear, “Right, Hyuck, how could I forget.”
You feel his arm wrap around you, a hug tighter and warmer than you'd ever shared, one you return with your own arms wrapped loosely around his neck.
“So what's got you all smiley?”
You shake your head, dismissive, but Haechan’s gaze presses further for an answer.
“Just glad to be back home” you respond, eyes raking over every familiar detail of the room you loved so much.
“Yeah,” he does the same, noticing how your hair's grown a little since you last spoke. “I'm glad you're back too.”
And something tells you that his words come from a place far beyond standard courtesy.
Now Haechan wouldn't openly admit it, but Christmas without you hadn't been the same.
For starters, you were a pro hot chocolate maker, a self-acclaimed, but totally deserved title, even if you did put the marshmallows on top of the cream instead of under it where they could melt.
You had always defended yourself saying it looked cuter, and who was Haechan to argue with that. He chuckles at the thought.
And how could he forget those cookies, the cookies you made every year, but still happened to burn a batch of, each time you baked them. God, he swore last Christmas he'd have done anything for one of those.
Haechan had realised how much those small details could change everything.
And if he was really being honest, Mark's hot chocolate wasn't anywhere near as good as yours, and it sure as hell didn't come with cookies.
But more than that, Haechan had just missed you.
He missed the tacky jokes you made and the ring of your laughter across the house.
He missed the way you'd walk into a room and make it feel instantly brighter or how you would show up in a Santa suit on Christmas Eve, dishing out toys to the children on the street like candy on Halloween.
Perhaps he was a little crazy, loving the constantly sniffling, snotty version of you that was always sick around this time of year— a little out of the ordinary for thinking you looked beautiful, even with a strap-on beard and a fake belly, but it was the truth.
And it was a truth he was happy to live with.
The festive season felt incomplete when you weren't around. It felt like a Christmas tree without the star on top— like everything was just a touch less magical without you.
Haechan realises he's been thinking for a while, a suspiciously long while. And only now did he realise just how empty the house seemed, too quiet for your family, that somewhere along the way had become his too, to not be around.
“How come you're alone?”
“I was napping” You smiled meekly “and they left to check out the Christmas markets in the town over.”
Haechan nodded. You'd give up anything for your naps so he didn't find himself surprised, just strangely chirpy knowing you hadn't changed since the last he saw you. Which really wasn't so long ago, but still enough for the awkwardness to resettle between you.
“I don't suppose they'll be back any time soon,” he says, not even waiting for you to agree, “so it's just you and me.”
He tries his hardest not to let on just how much he's losing his mind, but God it's hard when you're smirking up at him like that.
Mark would probably kill him if he ever found out just how badly he wants to wipe the smug expression right off your lips. Haechan’s sure it violates some sort of bro-code, wanting to kiss your best friend's little sister, but then again Mark wasn't here to stop him.
“Didn't think my company was that bad.”
Maybe he had tried a little too hard.
You expect some smart response, maybe a little teasing, but instead, Haechan pulls you back up off the couch you'd just sunk back down on.
"Let’s go” Haechan glances up at you with a mischievous smile.
You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Go? Where?"
"You'll see,” he shrugs, “unless you'd rather stay home”
Haechan was always full of surprises, and you couldn't fight back your smile. “As long as you're not planning to kill me.”
His eyes sparkled with excitement, and you couldn't help but laugh as he practically dragged you out the door. Not before making sure you were warm by forcibly tying a scarf around your neck though. It was sweet really.
It was snowing lightly outside, the ground covered in a soft blanket of white.
Haechan had firmly clasped his hand in yours, your breath creating little clouds in the frosty air. The tip of your nose was slowly blushing a light pink, your eyes growing glossy from the cold, the oversized scarf almost swallowing you whole. To make matters worse, you were practically waddling over the snow, taking cautious steps so as not to fall, and Haechan couldn't help but find it so incredibly cute.
The town was alive with holiday spirit — the streetlights twinkled, shop windows were adorned with festive displays, and the sound of Christmas carols filled the air. Your eyes wandered the streets, but his were stuck firmly on you.
Finally, after a short walk, you arrived at a quaint little ice skating rink tucked away in the corner of the park. It was charming, with those adorably tacky lights strung along the perimeter and a big, sparkling Christmas tree in the center. The rink was surprisingly quiet for a holiday evening, you almost preferred it that way.
Haechan grinned, already pulling you toward the ticket booth. "I thought we could try reviving an old tradition," he said, his eyes bright with excitement. "You up for it?"
You chuckled, suddenly realising just how much you missed this— his spontaneity, his joy, and that infectious energy of his. "You know I’m still terrible at ice skating, right?"
"I know," he teased, giving you a light nudge. "But that’s part of the fun."
You rolled your eyes playfully, following after him. After getting your skates, Haechan laced up his own and then did the same for you, his touch gentle as he tied your laces, his face soft with affection. Exactly like the old times.
“Ready?” he asked, standing up and offering you a hand.
For a moment you were sure you'd make a fool of yourself, fall face flat on the ice, or go flying across the rink. But as soon as you stepped onto the rink, Haechan’s hand reached out to hold yours.
“You know letting go of the railings might help a little” he chuckles, “trust me I won't let you fall.”
It was all so familiar, his constant encouragement, your consistent failure to skate for more than a metre before crashing into something.
Yet it still felt so different.
It wasn't until you crashed into someone that you heard Haechan's laughter echoing, watching you apologise with a doting grin on his face.
Maybe letting go of your hand wasn't the wisest idea.
"Don’t worry, just lean on me," he said, his voice soft and filled with affection.
And lean you did. You found yourself clinging to him more than you thought you would, but it felt natural. He made everything seem easier.
“Y'know, you really suck hyuck” You rolled your eyes at him.
He grinned, in true Haechan fashion, finding hilarity in your frustration, “Hey that rhymed.”
“How are you so good at everything?” You huff, almost crossing your arms before he stops you, steadying you as you were beginning to fall.
“See I can't even be bitter about it without needing your help”
He shrugged playfully. "That's the point."
You roll your eyes again, and you swear you watch Haechan’s eyes light up even more.
“Alright moody, why don’t we take a breather?” He laughs lightly, steering you toward the edge of the rink with a teasing smile.
Haechan wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close as the snow continued to fall gently around you. The city lights flickered in the distance, and sure you still couldn't ice skate to save your life, but in that moment, your heart swelled with warm content.
"This is perfect," you murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder.
"I’m glad you think so," Haechan replied softly, his voice just a little breathless.
He tilted his head, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. But then, instead of speaking, he leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. The gesture was simple but full of meaning.
"Can I ask you something?" he said, pulling back slightly to look at you, his eyes bright.
"Anything," you replied, heart racing a little.
He began with a playful grin, pointing upwards, where a small sprig of mistletoe hung above you, "How about we start a new Christmas tradition? Every year, just you and me."
Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t an official proposal or anything, but the sentiment felt just as deep. Haechan, always so carefree, was suggesting something that made you feel warm inside.
Without hesitating, you nodded. "How could I say no?"
And then, without another word, Haechan leaned in, kissing you gently under the mistletoe.
When you pulled away, you both smiled content, knowing that this was just the beginning of many more Christmases together. You'd always spent Christmas together, but perhaps this moment had redefined just what that meant.
“You know,” he whispered, his lips curling into a playful grin, “this is definitely going to be my favorite Christmas tradition.”
You couldn’t agree more.
#haechan x y/n#haechan x you#haechan x reader#haechan fluff#nct x female reader#nct x oc#nct x y/n#nct x you#nct x reader#nct 127 x you#nct 127 x reader#nct dream x y/n#nct dream x oc#nct dream x female reader#nct dream x you#nct dream haechan#nct fluff#nct dream fluff#nct 127 fluff#donghyuck x reader#lee donghyuck#nct dream donghyuck#nct drabbles#nct haechan#haechan
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let me syd please.
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Cold mornings, but theyre pretty warm with you :)
#nct#nct u#nct dream#aesthetic#pov#imagine#moodboard#lovers#haechan#donghyuck#nct dream haechan#lee haechan#nct haechan#nct dream donghyuck#nct donghyuck#lee donghyuck#green christmas#green#baking#shopping#scarf#sweater
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