#Replace Text in a String

[moeatsushi]

i still have to shift some stuff around but this is how its looking so far!

[jaylaxies]

JEALOUSY LOOKS GOOD ON ME!

PAIRING: yang jungwon x fem!reader

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessiveness, mentions of calling someone mid sex, mentions of nicknames, mentions of jay.

WORD COUNT: 4349 words.

SYNOPSIS: It was supposed to be just friends with benefits—no strings attached, no feelings, no late-night jealousy, but all it took was one party, one touch from someone else, and it sent Jungwon unraveling into something darker, and deeper. Now, he’s not asking who you belong to—he’s showing you, and the world.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni.

A/N: hihi, angels! i finally wrote a jungwon fic aaa this was supposed to be 1k words long but here we are <3 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

“You always look the prettiest when you’re about to walk away from me, huh?” 

You paused mid-way applying your lip gloss, jaw clenching at the sudden intrusion which you didn’t appreciate one bit. You could see him through the mirrors clearly as he leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms crossed as he stared at you with dark eyes. 

His voice was calm—almost sounding lazy to you, yet it slithered into your spine like a warning. 

He looked good—too good for your liking, clad in his casual blue jeans and a black button up, sleeves rolled up casually as his dark permed hair covered his forehead, jaw tight as he waited for your reply. 

You weren’t sure why he was here, but then again, you were the one who gave him the passkey to your apartment, hence, you’ll be facing the consequences. 

“What?” You asked, keeping your voice in check, not bothering to turn around. 

His expression was unreadable, eyes stuck on your figure, raking you up and down, especially paying attention to your little black dress that hugged your body a little too well for his liking, “you’re going to the party dressed like that?” 

You twisted the cap of the gloss shut, taking your time with it as you replied, “hm, why wouldn’t I?” 

“Jay will be there.”

That’s it, that’s the reason why he’s here. The reason behind your tension that’s been eating you both throughout the day, enough for you to turn around and face Jungwon now, heart pounding despite your efforts to appear confident. 

“So?” You challenged him. 

He scoffed, pushing himself off of the doorframe, taking slow steps towards you, “so—he’s been all over you lately.” 

“Is that jealousy, Jungwon?” You scoffed as he stood close to you, a little too close for your liking as he towered over your figure, “because the last time I checked, you’re not my boyfriend.”

“Yeah, I know. But he’s not yours either.”

The silence after that is thick as you glare at him with anger bubbling up inside of you, “so what exactly are you implying here?”

He swiped his tongue on his bottom lip, hesitating slightly—the first crack in his masked, nonchalant persona. 

“Y’know, I just think it’s funny. You say that we’re just fucking, but the second someone else even looks your way—I fucking lose it, I can’t breathe.” Jungwon seethes out. 

You blink, almost stunned at his sudden confession.

He shook his head though, replacing the melancholic look on his face with a devilish smirk, “but, hey! Jay might just be a better match for you, right? He’d probably remember to text you back, and maybe he won’t leave the second you fall asleep, right?” He taunted you, leaning down enough for his nose to brush faintly against yours. 

Your breath hitched, his words hitting you harder than you expected. 

“Fuck you,” you whisper, full of rage. 

“You already do, kitten,” he chuckled. 

You move back, throwing your lip gloss on him on your way out the room, which he catches with ease, a bitter laugh escaping his throat, “yeah, go ahead! Run to him. At least then we won’t be pretending that this thing between us doesn’t mean something.”

You hate him for saying it like that. For turning it into your fault when he’s the one who built the walls first. He’s the one who laid out the rules.

“You made the rules, Jungwon,” you snapped, “don’t you dare get mad at me for playing the game you clearly started.” 

His face almost twitched into an angry snarl, but he held himself back—his words? Emotions? He wasn’t sure either. 

“See yourself out once you’re done,” you muttered, leaving him standing alone in your room. 

And just like that, you’re gone. Like Jungwon said, you looked pretty—pretty to the point that he couldn’t leave you at the party alone. So, he did what he had to—follow you. 

Maybe being at a party wasn’t the brightest of the ideas for your distraction. The lights were glowing far too much for your liking, heat too high, broken laughter and the smell of perfumes all melting into one beneath the pulsating lights. The steady bass seemed to be in tune with everyone’s heartbeat and you were already out of sync. 

You stood at the end corner of the room, watching the chaos unfold, your face showing slight interest as to not seem out of place. However, your eyes keep wandering around in search of something—in search of him. 

It was a promise you made as you left, that you wouldn’t look for him, that you came here to forget the fight and to prove to yourself that you were unaffected—that nothing you shared with Jungwon meant anything. 

It was as if your body was wired to his presence, you could feel it before you even spotted him in the crowd. He was here. Jungwon. 

Leaning against the farthest wall to you, one arm lazily draped over the edge of the counter, head tilted in a way which made him look maddeningly attractive, still clad in his black shirt, a few top buttons undone, enough to show his clavicle where a gold chain rested perfectly. 

He hadn’t seen you yet. 

Or maybe he had, and just chose not to react, which was more hurtful, stinging you harder than it should. 

“Damn,” a voice interrupted your massive train of thoughts, “didn’t expect you to show up looking like this,” Jay said, his usual warm smirk plastered onto his face, coming close to stand next to you. 

You managed to put a lazy smile on your face, turning to look his way, your laugh light but automatic, “hm? And what does this look like?”

Jay chuckles, far too attractive for his own good, “like you’re here to ruin people.”

“Maybe I am,” you say, taking a sip of your drink, something sugary, cold, numbing. 

Jay’s hand brushes against your lower back, simply testing how far you’ll allow him to go. So you don’t stop him, you let him be. 

You’re aware of his body heat, the way his eyes look you up and down. You’re also aware that across the room, Jungwon has finally decided to pay you attention. Now, he’s watching, his gaze locked on the way Jay is leaning into you, how your hand casually rested on Jay’s chest as he said something in your ear to make you laugh. 

What makes him mad is how you keep your eyes solely on Jungwon, well knowing he’s watching your every move, his stare burning into you like a brand. 

His expression was unreadable at first, almost calm before he found himself gripping the glass a little too hard around the rim, a tic visible in his jaw, a slow swipe of his tongue on his bottom lip as if he was preparing himself for a mission. He looked as if he’d break something. 

The second you smile and lean into Jay, Jungwon starts walking towards you, not rushed, but with burning anger as if he tried to contain himself, only for him to explode instead. His presence hits you first—hot, almost electric. 

“Y/N.” He takes your name, voice full of spite and authority. 

“Hey, man—” 

“Not talking to you,” Jungwon cuts in, not letting Jay say a word to him, eyes fixated on your face. His tone is eerily calm, the kind that comes before the storm that shatters everything. 

You stiffen, “what are you doing here?”

He chuckles darkly, “I could ask you the same thing,” he says, staring at your waist, where Jay’s hand rested so naturally, “but I already know,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head before looking up again. 

“You don’t get to do this,” you seethe out, “you don’t get to show up and act like—”

“Like what?” He challenges, brows raised, stepping further into your space, “like I care?” 

You go still, his words hitting you harder than ever, a low blow indeed, which only makes him lean in closer, “you wanted me to see you? I did. Wanted me to watch while he put his hands on you like he’ll ever have you the way I do?” 

Jay shifts besides you, tension rising as if the room had turned ten degrees hotter all of a sudden. 

“Is he bothering you?” Jay asked, Jungwon’s eyes flicking to him, jaw tightening. 

“You should leave,” he said. 

“Or what?”

“Or you’ll find out why she never makes those sounds for you, yeah?” Jungwon felt like a madman, challenging Jay as if he was nothing. 

“Fucking stop it, Jungwon!” You shout. 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t even bother blinking, eyes locked onto yours. 

“I don’t know what your problem is dude—”

“My problem,” Jungwon says slowly, turning to Jay, “is that you’re touching something that belongs to me.”

Your face is on fire by now, heartbeat erratic at his words. It shouldn’t feel this way, you should hate him, “I’m not a fucking thing.” 

“You’re mine.” He said in a beat, words soft and final, hitting you harder than they should. 

Jay’s jaw clenches, “don’t talk to her like that.”

“Oh she lets me do it alright. Don’t talk like you know what we are.”

You stop breathing. We. That’s the first time he’s said it. 

“Is it true?” Jay asks you. 

You open your mouth to speak, only for no words to come out of them, because in all honesty—you didn’t even know anything anymore. 

Then Jungwon scoffs, leaning into you again. 

“Tell me,” he practically growls, “do his hands feel better than mine?”

Your throat tightens, heat creeping up your neck as you try your best to look unbothered, “you don’t get to ask me that.”

“Oh fucking hell I don’t,” he snaps, “you show up here with him, dressed like that, smiling as if you’ve never known better, huh? I do get to ask, kitten.”

That cursed nickname again, it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine, but you cross your arms instead, nails digging into your own skin. 

“You’re the one who leaves, did you forget?”

“You pushed.”

“Because I was the only one feeling anything, Jungwon. You were fine as long as I stayed quiet, stayed casual. But the second I wanted more—”

“I never fucking said I didn’t want more.”

“No, of course! You just made sure I never expected it.” The air between you is thick, suffocating.

He steps closer. You don’t bother moving.

“You let him touch you,” he says tightly, “you let him look at you like he could ever fucking have you.”

“Maybe I wanted him to.” Your voice is quieter now, but it hits harder.

He stares at you, his expression twisting, “don’t.”

“Maybe I wanted to know what it felt like,” you continue, forcing the words past the knot in your chest. “To be wanted without being hidden. To be chosen.”

He looks like you just punched the air out of him.

You hate how good that makes you feel.

You hate how much it hurts.

“Maybe I wanted him to kiss me.”

The muscle in his jaw twitches.

“Say it again.”

You swallow, “Maybe I still want him to.”

That does it.

He grabs your wrist—not to hurt, not to pull—just to feel that you’re real. That you’re still here.

“Say it looking at me, go on.”

You do, and for the first time all night, neither of you blink. 

“I want him to kiss me.”

The lie hangs there. Heavy. Bitter. You’re shaking, he sees it, “then why are you still here?” he asks.

A moment. A pause in the noise. A second where the floor feels like it might crack open. You stare up at him, heart thudding, then you smile up at him with a smirk.

“Solid question.”

And you turn, you walk away. You feel the silence snap behind you like a whip. You don’t get far. You’re five steps out when he comes after you, his fingers wrap around your wrist and yank you back, your back hits the wall around the corner—shadowed, dark, loud music muffled—and his body cages yours in.

Eyes wild, darker than ever. You had never seen him this mad—this desperate.

“You really thought I’d let you walk away?”

“You always do.”

“Not this time.” He’s breathing like he ran through fire to get to you, “you wanted a reaction?” he breathes out, “fuck—congratulations because you got one.”

You say nothing.

His hands rest against the wall on either side of your face. He leans in, his mouth a breath from yours.

“You think he could make you feel what I do? You think he’d know how to touch you without you teaching him from scratch?”

You close your eyes, throat burning as you mumble out, “God—fuck you.”

“You’ve tried,” he whispers, “and you keep coming back.”

You open your eyes.

“So what? Are you going to drag me out of here now?” You mean it as a challenge.

But Jungwon’s eyes—they flick down to your lips, and something in him just breaks. You see it happen, no hesitation, no warning.

Just movement.

He grabs your wrist, the same one Jay touched, and pulls—hard. You stumble, breath catching, but his grip only tightens. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t look at anyone, not even you—It’s like he can’t.

Like if he meets your eyes, he’ll lose the thin thread of control keeping him from tearing your clothes off right here. He weaves through the crowd like a storm parting the sea. You hear someone call after you—Jay’s voice, confused, concerned. Jungwon doesn’t even blink.

The front door bursts open with how angry he is. Cold air caresses your skin harshly, and he still doesn’t bother stopping, hauling you down the steps, across the sidewalk, to his car like a man possessed.

You open your mouth to speak, only to be cut off, “Jungwon—”

“Don’t,” he mutters. 

“Wait—”

“Don’t talk to me right now,” his voice is low, rough, almost shaking with the jealousy burning him alive. “If you say one more word, I swear I’ll fuck you in the backseat just to shut you up.”

Your stomach flips, your legs barely keep up as he unlocks the door, yanks it open, and practically shoves you inside. Not violently—but with purpose. Like if he doesn’t touch you, own you, now, he might lose what’s left of himself.

He gets in. Slams the door, followed by utter and complete silence, to the point you were scared of breathing too loud, your thighs rubbing against one another with anticipation? Anxiety? You didn’t know anymore. 

You glance at him—his jaw tight, nostrils flared, fingers white knuckled around the steering wheel.

“Jungwon,” you whisper.

He turns his head slowly, looking at you like he’s seeing nothing but red, “I don’t care if you hate me after this,” he mutters. “I don’t care if you scream and fight and curse my name.”

A pause, a deep breath, a statement that left no room for argument, “but you’re coming home with me.”

That’s when you realize that right now—there’s no reasoning with him. He’s not hearing anything anymore, not your protests, not your pain, not your fear or want or anger.

He’s hearing everything you didn’t say.

All the begging between the words, all the need in the silence, all confessions you never dared speak.

The engine roars to life, tires screeching as he drives—fast, so determined, his hand gripping the wheel as the other one curled into a fist, holding himself back. 

You don’t speak again.

Because, now, you want Jungwon’s actions to speak louder than his words. 

The moment the door slams shut behind you, silence drops, you barely got time to take a breath before Jungwon’s hands were on you—pushing you, grabbing you, dragging you back by the wrist before you can take a single step deeper into the apartment.

“You want to piss me off?” he seethes, lips near your ear, “you want to talk about Jay?”

He spins you, slams your back against the wall.

You gasp—but you’re not afraid of him. You’re afraid of what’s to come, lit from the inside, burning with everything you didn’t get to say, everything you couldn’t scream back at him at the party.

His breath fans across your cheek, hot and shaking from anger, from the need of wanting you, “you knew what you were doing,” he growls, eyes locked on yours, “wearing that dress—laughing with him. Letting him put his hand on your waist.”

“So what?” you snap. “You didn’t want me there anyway, right?” You shove at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“You said you didn’t care. You said it was just sex. So why do you care now?”

His jaw flexes. His silence is deafening.

“Answer me,” you spit.

“Because I’ve been going fucking insane,” he explodes.

His fist slams into the wall beside your head—not too close, but enough that you feel the vibration in your ribs.

“Because every time I close my eyes, I see you with him.” He leans in—nose brushing yours, lips barely an inch away, “and I want to kill him for touching what’s mine.”

The word echoes between you. Heavy. Final.

You let out a shaky breath.

“You don’t own me,” you whisper.

“No?” he breathes, hand sliding up your throat to cup your jaw. “Then why are you here?”

You glare at him.

“Because you dragged me—”

“Oh no, baby. You could’ve walked away.” His thumb brushes your bottom lip, “but you didn’t.”

He kisses you. It’s not sweet. Not soft. It’s brutal. A crash of mouths and breath and bruised desperation. You kiss him back harder, messy enough for you two to gasp for air. 

Your hands tangle in his hair, his teeth scrape your bottom lip, agitating you enough for you to bite him, he groans into your mouth like it hurts, bleeding slightly, letting you taste himself at its worst. 

“You said you wanted Jay to kiss you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Say it again.”

You hesitate.

“Go on.”

You look him dead in the eye as you say, “I did,” pushing for a second to let him react to this information. 

His pupils blow wide, only darkness in them and a reflection of your lying self. 

“Wrong fucking answer, princess.” He throws your phone on the bed, “you want to mess with me?”

He grabs your waist, lifts you, throws you onto the mattress as you let out a yelp, trying your best to adjust into the new position but Jungwon was faster. 

“Let’s see how far you’re willing to go.”

You scramble to sit up, but he’s already on you, hands hot and heavy on your thighs, forcing them apart, his gaze trails down your body like he’s starving.

“You don’t get to say things like that,” he growls. “Not after everything we’ve done. Not after everything I’ve given you.”

Your breath catches as his fingers dig into your hips.

“You belong to me,” he says, voice low and lethal. “And I’m done pretending otherwise.”

“Jungwon—”

“No. Shut the fuck up, kitten.”

He grabs your face—softly, but firm enough to make you feel it, to make you feel every bit of emotion that coursed through his body. 

“You talk too much when you’re scared.”

You blink up at him, heart hammering.

“I’m not scared.”

“Good.”

He leans in—lips brushing your ear.

“Then remember this,” he whispers. “Every moan. Every scream. Every time I fuck you so deep you forget your own name—”

His hand slides under your dress.

“You remember who did it to you, yeah?”

You shudder beneath him, and in that moment, there’s nothing left to say, his words are final, and you’re at his mercy. 

Just the sound of your breathing. The tension in his hands. The ache that’s been building for months and is finally—finally—about to break.

“Say it,” he demanded, voice low and ragged. “Say you liked him touching you.”

You opened your mouth—hesitated, yet you wanted to test his limits, your mouth working faster than your mind when you finally said it, “maybe I did.”

His whole body went still, you stared up at him, chest heaving, watching him lose the last bit of sanity that was holding him together, the snap of the thread breaking wasn’t real, but you heard it anyway. 

“You wanna play games?” he sneered, “fine, kitten.” He reached for your phone on the bedside table, where you had thrown your bag, he unlocked it with a flick, knowing your passcode, and tapped a contact.

“What are you—”

“Let’s call him.”

You froze, he couldn’t be serious about it, could he?

“Jungwon—”

“No, let’s fucking call him and show him exactly who you fucking belong to.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach, your mouth opening to say something, to stop him, but you didn’t. 

Because deep inside, you knew you wanted this, you needed this—to see how far he would go to prove himself this time. 

The phone rang once. Twice.

“Hello?” Jay’s smooth voice answered your call, as if he was waiting to hear from you. 

Jungwon locked eyes with you, his hips grinding between your legs, his hands working faster than ever to free his cock from the restraints of his pants, the thickness making you gasp as he covered himself with your sweet juices, rubbing his cock on your cunt. 

“Moan,” he said, mouth against your ear. “Let him hear you.”

You whimpered, your body arching into his as he finally lost control, fucking his dick into your ever so inviting, tight little cunt. 

“Jungwon—”

“Louder.” He ordered as he thrusted into you, and the sound that tore from your throat was filthy, helpless, humiliating.

Jay said something on the other end—confused, almost startled.

“She’s busy,” Jungwon said darkly into the phone, “busy moaning my name.”

You gasped again as he pistoned harder, thumb rubbing your clit in slow circles. 

“Wanna know why?” he asked, his voice deadly calm. “Because you’ll never touch her like this, never fuck her like this, never ever fucking own her the way I do.”

Your fingers dug into his back as he pushed deeper, his eyes locked on yours.

“You think she wanted your hands on her?” he asked out loud, “you think she wanted your mouth?” This particular thrust was harder, making you cry out louder, toes curling with the need to have him closer to you, impossibly so.  

“Then why is she cumming on my cock right now?” He chuckled, almost evilly. 

You broke, shattered completely with the overwhelming need to cum, to prove Jungwon right, to prove that nothing else truly mattered but him, humiliation thrown aside as you let Jay hear you without any ounce of self control holding you back. 

Jungwon watched you unravel under him, then calmly ended the call and tossed the phone to the floor, but making sure to tell Jay before he cut the call, “hope you enjoyed hearing her pretty fucking voices, because it’s the first and the very fucking last time you’ll get to hear her.”

“No one touches you but me,” he practically growled into your skin, panting against your neck. “No one gets to see you like this.”

“Jungwon—” you whimpered, crying and shaking, but Jungwon was far from done.

He pulled out, only to flip you over and drag you back by the hips.

“You want to tease me, huh?” he rasped, breathing hot against your shoulder, “want to pretend I’m nothing to you?”

You whimpered as he pushed back inside, deeper this time, agonizingly slow, full of something else now. It wasn’t just fury—it was his emotions, too much of it. 

“You’re everything,” he whispered, the words choking out of him. “You’re fucking everything.”

You turned your head, trying to see him, but he buried his face in your neck, “I love you.” He mumbled, voice broken. 

You froze.

His hands trembled on your hips.

“I love you,” he said again, quieter. “I didn’t want to—I didn’t mean to, but lord I fucking do.”

You turned beneath him, wrapping your legs around his waist, your mind fuzzy, heart erratic, a confusing mix of hurt and warmth spreading through your body. 

He looked down at you—eyes red, lips parted, body still tense with unshed rage and desperation.

“Then say it again,” you whispered, not knowing what else to say. You wanted confirmation, you wanted to hear it, you needed to hear it. 

He pushed into you, slower now, reverent, “I love you.”

Again.

“I love you.”

And again, with each thrust, he poured his love into you, “I’ve loved you every fucking night you stayed over. Every time you made morning coffee wearing my shirt. Every time I heard your laugh and thought, ‘God, I can’t lose this.’”

Your heart cracked wide open at his brutally honest confession. 

Jungwon was in love with you—you meant something to him, and that was enough for you to cry out, his lips catching every stray tear that cascaded down your face, every bit of tears that came from the hurt he caused you. 

“You’re mine,” he said again, kissing your cheeks, your mouth, your collarbones. “Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you whispered. “Fuck—I’ve always been yours.”

His hips moved again—slow, deep, building you both up together now. Not punishment. Not anger. Just raw, terrifying honesty.

You cried out again, overwhelmed by the pleasure, by the weight of everything he was finally giving you.

“Stay,” he whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And when you came again, shaking and sobbing into his skin, you knew this was it.

Not friends with benefits.

Not casual, not pretend, not anything else. 

Just you and him.

Molten into one—into each other.

His body stilled inside you one last time, and he collapsed over you, arms locked around your waist like he never wanted to let go.

You didn’t say anything.

You just stayed there.

Tangled.

Breathing.

His confession still rings in your ears.

“I love you.”

And you believed him, for real this time. 

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[claire-starsword]

:D

positioning the sprites is hell because the original priestess’ flail is huge and makes everything weird, but oh i am so very excited for this

Also because I know some text hacking now i can actually change the flails to knuckles and similar stuff. Obviously won’t make sense for the dragonewt but. see if i care. this is about my girl

Text hacking also allowed me to set her name as the Power Gloves cheat, of course. Slade gets the +5 dexterity as well, sadly that doesn’t apply retroactively to my save

[norrisradio]

SMALL TALK

LINE BY LINE ᝰ.ᐟ “one night he wakes / strange look on his face / pauses, then says / “you’re my best friend” / and you knew what it was / he is in love” + “Morning, his place / burnt toast, Sunday / you keep his shirt / he keeps his word” - Taylor Swift, You Are In Love

ᝰ PAIRING: oscar piastri x reader | ��� WC: 1.7K ᝰ GENRE: strangers-to-friends-to-????, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time and other disasters, oscar piastri is a man on a mission ᝰ INCOMING RADIO: my first time dabbling in some mixed media (feat. texts, voice notes, and facetimes)! not entirely happy with it but hopefully it makes sense // sorry for disappearing i am back now i swear ꨄ requested by @princesspiastri007 !

send me an ask for my line by line event .ᐟ

Oscar Piastri ruins your life in a bakery line on a Tuesday.

You’re clutching your paper cup like a lifeline, half-hypnotized by the scent of cardamom buns and the threadbare sweater slung over your frame — navy, elbow-patched, fraying at the seams. It was your dad’s. Maybe even his dad’s. Handed down like a secret. You only wear it on soft days. The kinds that ask for warmth and not much else.

Then someone knocks into you from behind, and the tea goes flying.

A sharp breath. The hiss of liquid on wool.

You freeze. He freezes.

“Shit — God, I’m so sorry.”

The voice is breathless and kind of pretty. You look up, prepared to launch into an eloquent string of swears, but the apology is already in his face. He looks young. Startled. Dimples carved into his cheeks like a question mark.  A lanky frame, messy hair, and a voice that sounds like Sunday morning. And behind him, some tall blonde girl in sunglasses (who you’ll later learn is Hattie, his sister) gives a wince-laugh and says, “Nice one, Oz.”

You look down. The sweater is ruined.

“That’s not just a sweater,” you whisper, throat tight. And somehow, that matters more than yelling.

The stranger — Oscar, apparently — blinks. “Wait — wait, is it special? Oh God. Please let me fix it.”

That’s how it starts: a burnt-sugar Tuesday and a ruined heirloom.

He buys you another tea. Apologizes twenty-seven times. Offers you his hoodie while you shiver on the bakery bench. It smells like laundry detergent and something citrusy, like a life that doesn’t belong to you. When you say he doesn’t need to do anything else, he frowns like you’ve insulted him.

“No. I swear — I’ll find a way to replace it.”

You scoff. “What, are you gonna time travel to the '80s?”

He grins. “Not quite. But I travel a lot. I’ll find one like it. You’ll see.”

It’s a joke. You think it’s a joke.

Until he’s in Spain two weeks later, and you get a photo of a sweater from a vintage shop in Barcelona:

from: +61 *** *** *** [Attachment: 1 Image] from: +61 *** *** *** Closer? Still hunting.

Then he’s in Canada. Silverstone. Budapest. Portugal.

from: +61 *** *** *** [Attachment: 1 Image - a blurry photo of a sweater, tagged €35 ] from: +61 *** *** *** Found a jumper in Lisbon. Not quite the right navy, but it has the elbow patches.

to: +61 *** *** *** you don’t have to keep doing this, yk 

from: +61 *** *** *** I know. I want to.

Each time, a picture. A patch. A different shade of blue. An “Almost.” 

You hadn’t expected it to become a thing.

You hadn’t expected him to become a thing.

But there’s a moment, three weeks later, when you're eating leftover curry on the floor of your apartment and your phone lights up with a voice memo. You hesitate. Press play.

Hey. I know it’s probably stupid but I found one in Tokyo today that kinda reminded me of the shape of yours. Didn’t get it though. The color was off. But I thought about you.

There’s a pause. You can hear wind. Traffic. And then:

Anyway. Just wanted to say hi.

You play it twice. Then a third time.

You don’t respond for an hour because you don’t know how to say, you’ve been living in my head since Tuesday.

The voice memos turn into calls. Almost by accident at first. One missed message becomes a call back, and before you know it, you’re dialing his number like muscle memory.

You start calling him after work, when the sky is the color of chamomile tea and the streets hum with the soft ache of winding down. He answers from hotel rooms, his voice low and warm, surrounded by the soft rustle of sheets or the faint murmur of unfamiliar cities outside his window. Sometimes you hear the buzz of neon. The clatter of luggage. The echo of a TV in the next room.

It becomes routine. Sacred, even. A ritual made of static and silence and shared space.

He listens when you talk about your family, about the sweater, about how you’ve always had trouble letting go of things that feel like home. Your voice goes soft when you tell him how your dad used to wear it on cold Sunday mornings, how it always smelled faintly of espresso and cedar. How you kept it on the back of your chair even after he passed.

There’s a pause.

And then: “That makes sense,” Oscar says, quiet enough that you almost miss it. “You feel... anchored. Even when everything else isn’t.”

You blink.

No one’s ever put it like that before.

You want to laugh. Or cry. Or tell him that he’s the first person in months who hasn’t made you feel like you’re too much. Too sentimental. Too attached to the past.

Instead, you murmur, “I like the sound of that.”

“Of what?”

“Being anchored.”

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his smile through the phone. That small, secret one you’ve learned to hear in the silence between words.

And when you hang up, well past midnight, your chest is full of something unfamiliar.

Melbourne - 00:42 / Sao Paulo - 11:42

Oscar’s face is sideways on your screen. He’s lying on a hotel bed, hair a mess, thumb under his cheek like he fell asleep on his own hand.

“I’ve seen twenty sweaters today,” he mumbles. “All of them were wrong.”

You smile, half-asleep yourself. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m determined.”

“Obsessed, maybe.”

He grins. “That too.”

There’s a long silence. Not awkward. Just full.

You whisper, “Why does it matter so much?”

He looks at you like he’s trying to read something written in a language only you speak.

“I think,” he says slowly, “because it mattered to you.”

Melbourne - 10:48 / Monza - 02:48

I found a vendor near the paddock today who hand-knits sweaters. Said she doesn’t repeat patterns but she can make something inspired by yours. I asked her how long it’d take. She said six months. I told her I’d wait.

There’s a long pause.

I don’t think this is about the sweater anymore. 

The FaceTimes start to stretch longer.  Past midnight. Into morning. Sometimes you wake up to a dead phone, his face still ghosting your dreams. He tells you what the gravel in Bahrain smells like. You tell him about your mother’s lasagna recipe. He starts sending you pictures of things that have nothing to do with sweaters.

The sea. His breakfast. A dog in the crowd with a bandana that says Team Oscar. His knees pressed up against the seat in a too-small plane.

You start recognizing hotel ceilings. The texture of his voice when he’s tired. The sound of his toothbrush.

You don’t talk about what it is. But you know.

You fall asleep with your phone tipped sideways, face half offscreen, mouth slack. Oscar snaps a screenshot once (you find it later in a photo dump he sends, sandwiched between two blurry shots of the Monza pitlane and one of a knitwear rack in Milan).

You’re in bed, face crinkled into your pillow.

from: +61 *** *** *** [Attachment: 4 Images] from: +61 *** *** *** I like this one best. 

Melbourne - 03:23 / Abu Dhabi 21:23

from: +61 *** *** *** You awake?

You blink at the screen, the dim glow of your phone painting soft light across your face.

You shouldn’t be awake. You weren’t. Not really.

to: +61 *** *** *** only if you need me to be 

from: +61 *** *** *** always. 

You stare at it for a beat too long. Something in your chest tightens.

No FaceTime this time. Just voice. Just the warmth of him spilling through the speaker like something secret.

“Hi,” he says, a little breathless. Like he’d been pacing. Like he still is.

“You okay?” you ask, voice scratchy with sleep.

A silence. Not heavy. Just full.

Then: “It’s stupid.”

“Try me.”

Another pause, this one longer. Then he sighs, and it sounds like the beginning of a confession.

“I was at dinner. Team stuff. Everyone talking, laughing, and it was fine. It was good. But then I thought of something you said — about how your dad used to cut his toast diagonally, like it made it taste better.”

You laugh, soft. “Because it does.”

He smiles. You can hear it. But then his voice shifts. Warmer. Quieter.

“And I wanted to tell you. Just that. Just... share that moment with you. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I wanted to call. Even though it was nothing. Even though it was everything.”

Your fingers twist in the hem of your blanket. “Oscar-”

He exhales, quiet static against your cheek. “It just– it made me realize something.” 

You hear him shift again, maybe run a hand through his hair. When he speaks next, his voice is quieter. Barely above a whisper.

“I think you’re my best friend.”

And the way he says it — it’s not casual. Not flippant. It lands somewhere low in your chest, blooming slow and steady.

You don’t answer right away.

Because the truth is, you already knew. You’d known for a while now, tucked in the space between time zones and half-laughed voicemails. In the way your day doesn’t feel finished until you’ve heard his voice.

Still, you make a soft sound into the receiver. “I know,” you say, because anything more might break it.

He breathes out a laugh. You can hear him relax, like he was bracing for something bigger.

“I should let you sleep.”

“You should.”

But neither of you hang up.

You don’t say anything else that night. Just let the silence stretch between you like soft thread, pulled taut. Your hand stays curled around the phone long after the call ends, thumb brushing the screen like it might still be warm from his voice. 

And later, when you’re making toast in his kitchen for the first time and burn it so badly the alarm goes off, you both laugh like idiots, wheezing and barefoot. 

You keep his hoodie. He lets you. You wear it when he’s gone. You send him a photo of it hanging beside the ruined sweater, like they’re twin relics of something that matters now. 

He keeps his word. 

He never finds the same sweater. 

But somehow, you stop minding.

Oscar can’t look at a knit sweater without thinking of you, and maybe that’s the best kind of curse—a soft one, stitched with love, pulling him home.

[sweetreasures]

our little star

pornstar!mingi x pornstar!reader

director!hongjoong, implied seonghwa x reader, casting/filming, tears mention (no dacryphilia), unprotected sex, creampie, petnames (mingi loves calling reader doll, babydoll, etc)

[minors dni, ageless blogs will be blocked]

masterlist \\ read part two (in action, seonghwa x reader)

mingi led hongjoong into the studio by the forearm, rambling excitedly about this new talent he’s discovered who is going to take his art to the next level. hongjoong wasn’t exactly in the market to acquire anyone new, much less someone as inexperienced in the industry as you. no, no, he fought back against mingi’s insistence. it would be too hard to break in a new performer at the moment.

but mingi assured his friend (and boss) that you were different. he’d seen you in action, spotting your profile on a website and scrolling through the videos as if studying a portfolio. your equipment was lacking, and the camera quality needed some work, but what mingi noticed first was how earnest you were. the scenes you performed with your partners—no matter the subject—were filled with passion. conviction. you believed in it, and mingi immediately recognized you as one of them. an artist.

you arrived an half hour earlier, wanting to gain your bearings before being presented with whatever business opportunity awaited you. seonghwa met you at the door.

“of course,” seonghwa replied following your brief self introduction. he seemed kind, reliable, and had already set off at work to make you more comfortable.

“what do you do around here…seonghwa?”

he gestured vaguely at the makeshift office surrounding you two. “behind the scenes stuff.”

you expected this answer the least. seonghwa was probably the most beautiful man you have ever seen in your life, and you were baffled as to how khj studios bagged someone like him when he could very easily be a mainstream celebrity. and then he tells you he’s only there to do paperwork?!

“i’ve known hongjoong forever. he said i was the only person he trusted with his money,” seonghwa leaned back in his chair and laughed softly. lying in his lap was a manila file folder, a couple sheets of paper notably sticking out from the sides. you could barely make out its text but you figured it must have something to do with you.

this was an audition, after all. and you couldn’t believe your luck.

mingi contacted you first. or rather, daddylongdick99. your eyes rolled when the message first arrived inside the inbox. it wasn’t abnormal to receive an influx of emails after you posted a new video—usually invitations for collaborations, desperate pleas for you to cream on them, or otherwise incoherent strings of words typed by a man who undoubtedly had one hand wrapped around his dick.

in actuality, daddylongdick99’s message hadn’t piqued your attention enough to open it. days passed without any response from your end. mingi was growing impatient—what was taking you so long? the letter was beautifully written and quite provocative. mingi knew you were at least somewhat aware of him, your circles running close in this industry niche. what more did you want from him, proof that he was the real deal?

the next day, he sent you another message. it was the first to show up when you checked your inbox for the day, and you were unexpectedly pleased to see the familiar username. the body of this message was empty except for two images. neither of his face—mingi hadn’t thought that far ahead. image one was a mirror shot: a figure sat on the bed, thick and rideable legs spread. his cock rested lazily against his chiseled abdomen. it was gorgeous, well groomed and reaching just above his belly button despite only being somewhat aroused. the flash from his phone obscured his upper body in the mirror.

in image two, the figure was lying down. the mirror replaced with his large hands choking his cock. his fingers were adorned in black and white silver rings. the camera flash reflected vividly off of the slick surface of his member, which now stood fully erect. shaft perfectly straight and longer than average, you noticed the vein pattern on the underside seemed tailor made to provide the perfect texture along anyone’s inside walls. the motion of the photo showed he was mid stroke, aided with a substance that looked equally of lube and semen.

daddylongdick69 was far from an exaggeration.

mingi’s plan technically worked—you still had zero idea who he was (and he’d be the first to acknowledge the apparent hubris of believing you would just from the sight of his penis). but you remembered the first message you brushed off the other day, quickly searching through your inbox to locate it.

upon spotting nothing more than a block of text, you were disappointed to say the least. but a name at the very end stood out to you. the fine hairs on your neck perked at their roots.

“song mingi. signed under khj studios.”

your breath hitched. kim hongjoong was an established indie pornographer, lovingly nicknamed “erotica’s darling”. his operation was relatively small, but he dominated when it came to producing depictions of sexuality akin to a choreographed dance. where the characters were as integral to its enticing style as the stars who portray them. you adopted a similar philosophy when you began filming, and had spent quite some time honing your skill for framing intimacy and intercourse in a way that told stories.

you knew of song mingi—one of khj’s principle actors. unfortunately, not enough to recognize the sight of his magnificent cock. but due to hongjoong’s secretive entry process for new talents, his roster was pretty small. it was rumored that hongjoong had to handpick you himself—his current team consisting potentially of people he met in bars or through random hookups. in any case, you were in awe at how in synch everyone was in delivering hongjoong’s art into the world.

the truth was far simpler. hongjoong wasn’t the most trusting person in the world, but he wasn’t in the cia either. to become a khj studio performer you kinda just had to be in the right place at the right time.

and there you were.

seonghwa briefly glanced at the clock on the wall—3:21 PM—before turning his attention back to you. he thought for a second, pushing himself up to his feet and walking to a corner of the office. there was a stationary camera set up on a tripod. removing the camera, seonghwa instructed you to sit on the couch in front of him.

“oh classic! the casting couch.” you quipped playfully. seonghwa laughed again. you were growing to like his laugh.

“i’m just getting your profile together with a few pictures. mind removing your clothes?” he uncapped the cover from the lens.

you raised an eyebrow quizzically, a bit alarmed by his urgency. you hadn’t even talked to hongjoong yet. you didn’t even know whether he was willing to give you the time of day.

sensing your uncertainty, seonghwa rested a comforting hand on your thigh. “you have something special. he’s going to love you.“ you both exchanged affirmative nods before you arose to strip.

it wasn’t exactly embarrassing to stand before seonghwa naked. your videos regularly garnered thousands of views—you sort of assumed most people in your niche have already seen you in a much more intimate state. but the way seonghwa looked at your body as he moved around you with his camera was deliberate and careful. he instructed you into various positions, each pose focused on different silhouettes and angles. seonghwa maintained a distance from you, as if photographing a one of a kind painting, too scared that any sudden movement would tear a hole in the precious canvas.

but you remained nervous nonetheless—as the afternoon progressed, you slowly realized how important this meeting was. if you wanted to build your credibility in the industry, this was it. and yet the exclusivity shrouding hongjoong in mystery left you with a thousand questions. you had yet to hear from anyone what you were meant to do today.

after a couple of shots, seonghwa had you sit down normally, knees together and facing him. he instructed you to look natural, explaining that he wanted to take the profile portrait. you followed his directions perfectly, though you had no idea what to do with your face, opting for a neutral but approachable expression.

to your surprise, seonghwa reached out to caress your cheek. he ran his thumb over your plump bottom lip, gazing down at you with a warmth you couldn’t quite place.

“still nervous?”

“no…”

“then where’s that smile, sweetheart?”

the door opened and in walked two new individuals, both of whom you knew without introduction, and both of whom looked down at the two of you with puzzled expressions.

“i don’t pay you to fuck the talent, hwa.” hongjoong remarked, annoyed. seonghwa capped his camera, rolling his eyes in your direction at his boss’s temperament.

mingi extended a hand to shake yours, “that would be my job, actually! nice to meet you.” you half expected someone with the username daddylongdick99 to carry himself with insufferable audacity. but mingi was very sweet and incredibly talkative, filling up most of your downtime while hongjoong and seonghwa deliberated over your pictures.

he knew a lot about your work. “i really loved the way you used gold to symbolize innocence. no matter what your character went through, her soul was never tarnished.”

“exactly…like pure gold.”

mingi nods enthusiastically.

you realized it right then—that these people understood your art just as much as they did hongjoong’s. you agreed to perform a scene with him, infinitely more comfortable now that you felt seen. mingi quickly stripped off his own clothes to match your state of undress. the two of you continued your discussion like old friends who casually arranged to meet for lunch.

“we’re sort of short on time right now. how ready are you?” hongjoong pointed at you, once again commanding everyone’s attention in the room.

“ready? i mean…very?” you shot a confused glance at mingi.

“he wants to know how wet you are, doll.”

“ahh.”

you didn’t even need to touch yourself to know you were soaked down to the cushion, but you inserted your hand between your thighs anyway, fingers glistening as they reemerged. hongjoong, seemingly satisfied with the state of your arousal, suggested knocking out two tasks at the same time—he would interview you and get a sense of your strengths as a performer while mingi worked to acclimate you to the size of his cock.

you perched yourself over him, positioning his tip to your entrance. it was on the larger end of cocks that have been inside you, though it wasn’t insanely intimidating. just as you steadied yourself to lower down, hongjoong began his interview.

name. hometown. years of experience. typical background information. you answered as clearly as possible, your mind alternating between hongjoong’s questions and the increasing fullness in your core. mingi’s eyes were fixed on yours, gauging your pain levels while rubbing comforting circles into your clit.

mingi was almost deceptively large, but you managed well. hongjoong asked whether you thought cum had any merit as an artistic medium on its own. sure. you lowered yourself a couple more inches.

“gah-fuck. yellow.” you inhaled sharply, stilling yourself. mingi took a hold of your waist, preparing to pull out though you hadn’t indicated that you wanted to stop completely.

“sorry…i…” the telltale signs of a blush bloomed from your cheeks. “you felt so good on my clit, i almost squirted.” you admitted, sheepishly.

the boys let out a collective sigh of relief. mingi couldn’t have felt prouder of himself, even after hongjoong smacked him on the side with a piece of mail within arm’s reach. after giving them the okay, you relaxed your pelvis before taking in the final few inches of mingi’s cock.

mingi sat upright to hold you against his chest as he bottomed out, instinctively whispering words of praise in your ear as he felt your walls adjust to his size.

“my babydoll did so good for me. so good.”

you moaned in gratitude.

“i knew you would. your sweet little cunt was made just for me, hm?”

as he spoke, seonghwa retrieved the tripod from its corner. he set it up right in front of you two—standing alongside hongjoong behind the camera.

hongjoong fiddled around with some video settings, “think of this like a screen test.”

mingi carefully reversed your positions on the couch with you now lying beneath him, his cock still resting pretty between your soaked folds.

“i want to see how well you two look together, and i want to see how quickly you can adapt to a scene.”

you and mingi nod eagerly.

“sometimes my vision isn’t exact. i need all of my performers to know when to improvise and keep the scene realistic.”

“in other words,” seonghwa shoots you a knowing wink, “he wants you to make up for his indecisiveness.”

hongjoong opted to ignore seonghwa’s snide comments, instead placing you and mingi in a scene within his work in progress production. you were a grieving woman who had lost your boyfriend years ago. as you fall into a depression, his friend remains by your side to support you during your journey to acceptance. once devoid of libido, you rediscover your sexuality with his help and decide in the end that loving him won’t replace your relationship with your boyfriend.

the most important part was portraying the intercourse in this scene as an outpouring of emotion. hongjoong motioned for mingi to set out on his pace before hitting record.

it didn’t take long for you to sink into character. you grasped at mingi’s hair, bringing him down into a deep kiss.

“fuck me, mingi. i want to feel you.” you gasped. he slowed down just a bit, allowing his length to take in the softness of your pussy and the way you clenched so perfectly around him. tears of pleasure threatened to spill over as your mouth dropped open, choking out a long moan.

“how is it now, doll? can you feel me?”

every fucking inch.

in an instant, he saw that spark in your eye—you were fully immersed. the details you worked into the scene left him in awe; your movements became more hesitant and unsure, in your grief you couldn’t possibly give yourself over completely to the pleasure. especially not with someone who meant so much to your deceased boyfriend. suddenly, your ears reddened. the lewd sounds of sex, the sweaty skin on skin, mingi’s moans as you fucked up against him and the involuntary force guiding your hips to chase your high—all of it was so embarrassing to your character.

hongjoong took notice, as well. he was no longer viewing the scene from the monitor hooked up to their camera. at some point, he had begun watching you intently. mingi was right, you were perfect at this. out of the corner of his eye, he spotted his partner. seonghwa’s hands cupped his jeans, undoubtedly attempting to hide the growing outline of his aroused cock from witnessing the scene before him.

mingi, overcome with a growing desire to protect and care for you, quickened his pace. every thrust a promise that he will always love you just as much as your boyfriend had. you trusted him enough to pin you down to the bed you shared with your boyfriend and fuck you senseless, but not enough to give him your heart? the thought made mingi tear up, and soon the both of you were bucking into each other desperately, whimpering through sobs, releases imminent.

“gonna cum…shit…gonna cum for you, doll. you feel so good around me. so ready for me.” mingi leaned in to suck on your jaw, searching for anything to ground him. he knew the most natural ending of this scene would be to cum inside of you. but he felt himself slipping—mingi never got pussydrunk on the job. cumming inside of you would cause something in his brain to snap.

your walls pulsated around him as your release came over you, soft “thank you”s pouring from your lips as you rode out your orgasm on his cock. mingi thanked his lucky stars that you came first, and was just about to end the scene before you leaned down next to his ear.

“please. please cum in me. make me yours.” you begged as you continued fucking yourself on his cock. he clenched his abdomen, but it was all too futile. for once, mingi couldn’t focus on the scene nor your acting. he was about to make you his.

“i love you,” was all he could manage before you felt him shoot load after load into your cunt. his semen mixed with your juices as it pooled onto mingi’s lap. as the two of you stilled, you took a second to rest your head on mingi’s chest, the faint vibration of his heartbeat tickling at your ear.

seonghwa was the first to break the silence. “well?” he prodded at hongjoong. “how was it?”

“i don’t know, ask yourself. this dork nearly came before either of you.” hongjoong retorted.

mingi carefully lifted you up from his lap, the sudden emptiness sending a chill down your spine. seonghwa removed a robe from a coat rack nearby before kneeling down in front of you. that same warmth on his face brought you down from your orgasm with ease. he took you by the hands and smiled.

“you were just amazing, our little star. now let’s get you cleaned up.” helping you up onto your shaking legs, he wrapped the robe around you and led you to a shower room across the hall.

hongjoong tossed a similar robe at mingi, not caring to be as delicate with his employee as seonghwa.

“where the fuck has talent like that been hiding?” he exclaimed exasperatedly once the two of you were out of earshot. mingi rubbed at the sweat on his chest with the robe before slipping it around his shoulders.

“dude, i told you she was good.”

“and you!” hongjoong continued, his volume growing louder at the opportunity take a dig at mingi. “i love you. i love you.”

mingi’s head fell in his hands at the mocking reminder of his brief moment of vulnerability.

“fuck off.”

part two

[A/N: if you made it this far, thanks for reading! this blog will be under construction over the next few days as i move things around to make a proper navigational page. i’m also getting a taglist together! if you are interested, please fill out this form!]

[prkhaven]

garage band guitarist jay who you know you should stay away from but who gives you the best sex of your life that you just can’t help yourself everytime you go back to him everytime he calls

kipoo!! sorry that it took me so long to get to this but i hope you enjoy <3

jay could play me like a guitar. ANYWAYS.

warnings: smut minors do not interact, car sex, oral (f rec), squirting, praising, petnames(darling, good girl)

JAY was your next door neighbor turned into sudden roommate when times got tough. the proposition for this arrangement? you don’t pay rent, both of you fuck. it’s a win-win.

anytime you and jay just so happened to be in the same mood at the exact same time, it takes much words for one thing to lead to another.

while you know jay may not be the best of influence for you. he’s always out while you’re more of a homebody focusing on getting money up while he spends it likes it’s nothing.

he brings you out when you’re supposed to be getting ready for your shift which you never end up going to because you’re in some cramped up venue watching him and his band play.

tonight was no different, you don’t remember the last time you were even at your job but you were too focused on maintaining eye contact with jay as he loosely smiled at you, his precious guitar in arm as his long fingers ran over the strings to ring out the rumbling tune before the song came an end.

he shot you an obvious wink before waving towards everyone else. your cheeks burned as you nibbled on your bottom lip to move your gaze from the stage to the barricade where you rested at before squeezing between people to go back stage.

your phone has been blowing up with calls and text from coworkers and managers wondering where you were for your shift but you turned off your phone when a pair of arms wrapped at your waist.

jay rested his head on your shoulder as he messily kissed the side of your face. “how was i darling?” a pet name you despised from other but loved from him

you turned your body around with a loopy smile as you brush back his hair from his face, “amazing like always, guess those late night practices did pay off instead of just keeping me wide awake” you chuckled but stopped when he grabbed your wrist mid air

“can i make up for keeping you up all those nights? i know i was neglecting you too” jay slurred and your heart thumped as you weakly smiled and nodded

thats how you found yourself in the back of jay’s car. your lower half completely bare, your shirt crumbled up to expose your chest, his ring and bracelet lathered calloused hands grip onto your breast tightly as he protruded his tongue into your hole.

your hands weakly grabbed his hair, your hips rocking in the motion for more friction, his nose nudging at your clit making you squeal.

the cold metal of rings touched your garden nipple making you breathlessly gasp, he pinched at them to get an extra stimulus causing you to jolt. you could feel his smirk against your folds as he messily ate you out.

a loud gasp fell out when he pushed in two fingers to replace his tongue, “was just being asked to be filled up” he softly hummed as he pushed deeper into you until the base of his ring hovered near your hole.

“just be a good girl f’ me, promise to properly make it up to you”

your head lulled to the side as you watched through squinted eyes of how jay’s mouth and hands did wonders on you. his hand on your breast tightened to spill in between his fingers, his tongue now working around his pumping fingers.

“i’m going to- Jay!” you squealed as you tried to pull away knowing how much jay cared for his car

he popped up from your core, a string of salvia connecting him to your folds, his fingers suddenly curling up into your walls feeling the gummy walls.

jay felt like in paradise. he dragged himself back in, “come for me. make an absolute mess” he planted kisses onto your pussy, his finger simultaneously calculated

his tongue strides across your folds, picking up the wetness that seeped out onto his tastebuds. it messily lathered around down to his chin and seats but he needed more.

he sucked as much as he could, the essence of you tasted devine and he needed more. it wasn’t enough. his thumb rubbed down on your clit, adding to the sensation.

you shook your head as the knot of your stomach grew tighter. you let out a loud gasp, your back arching off his seat when you came around his tongue. he pulled out and strung at your folds to ignite more of your juices to spill out.

jay noticed as you tried to stop yourself from spilling more but he didn’t allow it. he pushed more out of you until your body was lightly shaking and your moans were broken into shivers.

but when you heard the faint sound of his belt unbuckling and you looked at him through hazy eyes and noticed his side smirk as he stroked the side of your face.

“Forgot to mention but you’re late on your half of the rent”

——

[threadandsandpaper]

A long time ago I made this set. I still think it's pretty good. I made some little tweaks, added some new RCs. Now I'm rereleasing it for anyone who missed it the first time!

What it is: A LOT of wall and surface frames, all repo'd. This upload doesn't have any art included, just frame recolors. I use these for sim documentation photos, so they can have pictures of themselves... but you do what you like with them.

If you have them already: chuck the old files and put these in their place. Nothing will break. OR, you could leave them and just add the new RCs: that'll work fine too.

DOWNLOAD

Meshes : simsfileshare

Frame RCs : simsfileshare

What changed (meshes) : I tweaked the catalog text strings and the file names so that they match each other better. I also removed references to my real name in favor of my internet handle, since that's less confusing and more easily searchable.

What changed (RCs): I've replaced all the textures with new versions, fixing two small errors that were bugging me. First is the fact that the edge of the matte was picking up the frame RCs (actually on the fence about if I liked the old version better, if you preferred that, let me know I might make a second version if enough people ask). Second there was a blotch on the side, you probably never noticed... but I DID. I also merged the packages for color sets and named them a bit better.

What's new: In addition to the updated aliea colors (select colors on the wall meshes) I've made two new sets: black frames with cludo mattes, and icad wood colored frames with black mattes. Those are pictures on the surface meshes (only some of the icad colors shown).

If you want to add your own art: There is a lovely tutorial here!

If you want to just download some art:

you can find some by poppet here, and here,

some by lina-cherie here.

Found another! Eulalia did a few.

Thanks to pixeldots who found vegan-kaktus recolors,

and two sets by kayliegh83 (here and here)!

If you know of any other recolors, please tell me, I'd love to add links.

[bettysupremacy]

Thank you for letting me know:) Could you (if you get the chance) please write Grumpy Rafe x a like really sweet, shy, adorable like innocent reader? But like he finds her really cute? Could be anything else you want! I just like grumpy x sunshine :)

hey babe! Sorry this took me so long to get to, I hope u like! This is my fav rafe trope

“This is such bullshit.” Rafe grumbles.

Of course his plans had been derailed. Big empty house, summertime, pretty girl to himself, of course his friends dragged him away.

Your head peeks from the bathroom wall. “Hm?” It struggles out, your lips coated in toothpaste, your mouth occupied with a dangling toothbrush. You look so cute in your little outfit, he feels guilty for wanting you to get back into your pajamas. To forget your friends ever texted you at 9:30pm on a Saturday with Drinks? ;)

His hand waves in the air dismissively. “Nothing.”

You nod, slipping back into the bathroom to finish your tasks.

He rifles through his drawers messily, unsure of what he’s actually looking for. “Goddamn Kelce.” He mutters, quieter than last time. “Goddamn Topper.”

He can’t believe his perfect plans have been ruined, can’t believe he’ll have to share you. His head shakes in disbelief as he quits with the drawer, moving to wait for you by his bed. He cannot go out tonight.

You pop out of the bathroom, toothpaste replaced by a softer, pinker, shine to your lips. Rafe represses the urge to thumb at it as you walk over to wrap your arms around him tightly. Ear pressed to the warmth of his shirt covered chest, you can hear the aggravated thump to his heart.

“M’sorry.” You mumble.

He pulls back until your face is in view. His fingers work to smooth a piece of your hair. “For what?”

You lean into the touch. “I know you didn’t want to go out tonight.”

Oh. He can’t hide the distain crumpling his features. “No,” he grumbles. “I don’t.”

You smile weakly. “But we‘ll have fun.”

“You will.”

“Not if you’re miserable.”

He sighs, greatly heavy, shaking his head. “I won’t be miserable.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” His eyes roll. “as long as you sit on my lap.”

He nearly preens at the sound of your laugh. “I don’t think the bar stools are big enough for lap siting, baby.”

He deflates dramatically, his head falling to your shoulder. “Than what is the point.”

You smile, though he doesn’t see, his eyes hidden in the softness of your dresses sleeve. “Getting some drinks with friends who wanna catch up.” Your hand comes up to scratch his scalp the way he likes. He does preen this time.

He’s silent, breathing in the scent of the moisturizer he’d bought you last week. He grumbles incoherently.

“Me too.” You nod. You feel him grin against your shoulder.

Lifting his head, he ducks down, eye level with you. “Let’s just stay home, baby.” He whispers, nosing at yours.

Your eyes flutter, the hopes of a kiss working it’s way in. “You know we can’t do that.”

He sighs softly into you. “Why not?”

“Because,” You start with a pout, your hands sliding from where they rest on his waist, up onto his warm grumpy cheeks. “You haven’t seen Top in a month,” his nose twitches. “and he misses you.”

“Please don’t bring up Topper when I want to kiss you.”

You laugh, warm and syrupy, flushing at the insinuation of kissing. “I get a kiss?”

“You always get a kiss.” He breezes, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

It’s soft and sticky, a string of your pinky lipgloss connecting you two obscenely when you’re the one to pull back.

“R’you wearing the sticky stuff?” He murmurs.

“Yes,” you nod quietly. “It lasts longer.”

“So I’m gonna have pink shit all over my lips for the next thirty minutes?”

“No,” You giggle quietly. “a wet cloth will do the trick.”

“In that case.” He shrugs, leaning down to reward your lips with three rapid kisses before a fourth, longer, softer kiss.

You stifle a smile when he pulls back. “What?” He grins.

“Your lips are all sticky.” Your thumb wipes some shine from the corner of mouth. He puckers his lips.

“Maybe it’ll make me as pretty as you.”

Your nose wrinkles at his corniness.

“Or maybe I need more.” He leans in.

You push his face away from yours. “I can’t kiss you when you’re like this.”

“Lovely?” He murmurs. “The nicest boyfriend ever?”

“Corny.” You laugh at his offended expression, shrieking when he tackles you to the bed. “You maniac!”

He pulls your hair from your eyes, the gesture softer than your loud shriek moments before. It’s quiet as you breathe in tandem. His eyes rake over you appreciatively, and something in your belly twists for another kiss.

“I think” he starts,dropping his face down to nose at your collarbone. “I wanna kiss you again.”

Your eyes droop, the warmth of his body and love seeping into you. “I think” you start like him, murmuring into his ear. His ear tickles from the warm air. “I wanna stay home.”

“I did it!” He pops up, his arms caging you in.

Your chest rises in rapid giggles. “Shut up!”

[youzicha]

Google Docs provides language-model driven autocorrect, where it highlights "unlikely" strings of words and offers to replace them for you.

It makes a lot of sense. But it's also a bit ironic, given that statistical language models started with Shannon's information theory, which identifies "information" with surprisal. Like, you could imagine if you just keep right-clicking the text, eventually Google will rewrite it for you into something carrying zero bits of information.

That's actually what LLM-written texts try to optimize for. Which I believe you can notice!

There is no "idea" in the poem except what is forced on it by the prompt; the text generation algorithm specifically tries to put as few bits as possible into the text. The more clichéd the poem is, the closer it is to optimal.

Sometimes humans fall into the same trap. I keep thinking about the editor who changed "a feeling of jealousy" into "a pang of jealously", replacing the phrase by a cliché and deliberately erasing the bits of information contained in it.

[theambitiouswoman]

The right people never risk losing you—so why chase those who do? (+ the psychology behind this pattern)

Have you ever noticed how some people treat you with care & others act as if you’re easily replaceable? The difference isn’t just about compatibility—it’s about understanding your value. Even if someone isn’t meant for you, if they truly recognize your worth, their actions will reflect it

The difference between someone who sees your value vs. someone who doesn’t

The person who sees your value

They show up consistently, even if they know they’re not your forever person

They communicate with respect and honesty because they acknowledge your worth

They don’t play games, manipulate or string you along. Instead, they are upfront about their intentions

Example: You date someone briefly, but they realize you’re not a long term match. Instead of ghosting or being disrespectful, they have an honest conversation, express appreciation for you and leave things on good terms. They wouldn’t risk damaging a connection with someone they respect

The person who doesn’t see your value

They keep you around for convenience, not because they genuinely cherish you

They are inconsistent—one day, they’re warm and loving, the next, they disappear

They disregard your boundaries because they don’t view you as someone to be honored

Example: You give your all to someone, but they breadcrumb you—texting just enough to keep you interested but never showing real commitment. They don’t see the risk in losing you because they never truly saw your worth in the first place

The real issue is why you want someone who doesn't value you or see your worth

it’s not about them—it’s about you

Psychologically, this desire stems from childhood experiences, attachment wounds, subconscious conditioning. Your brain is wired to seek patterns it recognizes, even if they’re harmful

Scarcity mindset (Dopamine & Reward System): When someone treats you poorly, your brain sees their occasional attention as a “reward.” The unpredictability triggers dopamine (the pleasure chemical), making you crave their approval. This is the same mechanism that makes gambling addictive—intermittent rewards create obsession

Unresolved attachment trauma: If you had to “earn” love in childhood, you may unconsciously seek out people who make you prove your worth. Your nervous system associates inconsistency with love, making stable relationships feel boring or “not exciting enough.”

The ego’s need for validation: The part of you that feels unworthy believes that winning over someone who doesn’t see your value will prove your worth. But no amount of chasing can make someone value what they refuse to see

Recognize your own value first. If you don’t see it, you’ll keep attracting people who don’t either. Heal your attachment wounds. Therapy, journaling, and self-reflection can help you break the cycle. Detach from the illusion of "proving" yourself. The right people won’t need convincing

At the end of the day, no one who truly sees your value would ever gamble with the risk of losing you. And once you embody that truth, you’ll stop trying to convince those who never did

[lurkinginnernarrator]

au where SQQ does undergo the 'qi-deviation' and is 'changed' but in reality the twin of Shen Jiu, Shen Yuan made a comment one day about how all Shen Jiu did was bitch about his martial siblings. Never one to turn down a golden opportunity,

Shen Jiu: bet

And so the twins decided to switch lives!

The qi-deviation is just so they can explain away any differences of temperament and so sj can hightail away easier.

Shen Yuan: this is going to be so easy

(spoiler. it wasn't)

Between useless sect meetings that could've been not even an email but a text message, reading fifteen different preteens attempts to sneak in dick jokes into their poetry assignments, the head cook alerting him to the fact that they've somehow run out of rice??? They're the greatest cultivation sect??? How does that happen???

Anyway, two of his Hall masters eloping together and taking an extended honeymoon (he's happy for them, but. Who's going to teach those classes now??? Him. Apparently.), sect politics and his 'martial siblings' barely even attempting a farce of civility or courtesy AND his guqin strings needing to be replaced and restrung ?

Shen Yuan is sorry 🙏🙏please come back🙏🙏🙏

Cue the allotted period of switching ending and Shen Yuan dramatically throwing the fan on the ground as Shen Jiu rolls up and goes "thanks for the vacation didi"

[jungaji]

don't be a stranger

jeong jaehyun x barista!reader ♡

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff (wc: 1429)

jaehyun stood outside the new café, arms crossed, his face pulled into a scowl so intense that even the cheery glow of the place seemed to dim in its presence. the soft hum of conversation and the inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted out the door, but neither did much to improve his mood.

“i’m telling you, woo. this place will never replace 127 Coffee. their coffee’s probably watered down garbage, and just look at that tacky logo... Café 7 Dream? what the hell does that even mean?” jaehyun scoffed, his lips curling as though even the name left a bad taste in his mouth.

jungwoo, undeterred by his friend’s dramatics, burst out laughing, the sound light and carefree as he gave jaehyun a playful shove. “relax…we’re here on important business. you know—research the enemy before we destroy them.” he added a wink for good measure, tugging jaehyun’s shoulder to prevent his stubborn friend from stalking off.

jaehyun sighed, the reluctance practically oozing from him. “this is a waste of my time,” he grumbled but continued to allow jungwoo to pull him inside.

the warm air greeted them immediately, carrying the comforting scent of coffee and pastries. the interior was cozy yet modern, all soft lighting and muted colors that begged customers to linger. 

but jaehyun didn’t notice any of it.

because the moment his gaze landed on you, the entire world seemed to come to a standstill.

you stood behind the counter, your smile soft and inviting as you handed a steaming cup to a customer. the way your fingers danced over the screen as you took orders, the gentle lilt in your voice as you chatted with your co-workers, and the focused little pout you wore as you carefully measured coffee beans—it was as if every detail about you was designed to captivate him.

jaehyun was utterly mesmerized. he didn’t just stop walking; he stopped thinking. he stood there, jaw slack, eyes wide, as his irritation from before evaporated faster than steam from the espresso machine.

jungwoo snapped his fingers in front of jaehyun’s face, before whispering in mock horror, jeong yunoh, snap out of it. what are you doing? we’re here to scope out the enemy, not drool over the barista!”

jaehyun barely registered his friend’s words. his heart thundered in his chest, drowning out everything but the sight of you. his feet moved before his brain could catch up, carrying him towards the counter like he was being drawn by an invisible string.

“hi! welcome to Café 7 Dream,” you greeted him with a smile so warm it could’ve melted glaciers. “what can i get for you today?”

jaehyun opened his mouth, ready to answer, but his brain had officially gone offline. his voice refused to cooperate, resulting in him just staring at you with an intensity that would’ve been unnerving if it weren’t for the soft, almost childlike wonder in his eyes.

jungwoo sighed dramatically, stepping in to rescue his dear friend. “two iced americanos, please,” he said, not before shooting jaehyun a pointed glare.

you nodded, punching the order into the register, as jaehyun snapped out of his trance. “and your number!” he blurted out, his dimpled smile softening the boldness of the request.

“please?”

your cheeks flushed immediately at his request. you were caught off guard, but when you looked at him—truly looked at him, with his sharp jawline, endearing smile and those soft, pleading eyes—you couldn’t help the shy smile that tugged at your lips. “um, y-yeah, sure.”

you quickly scribbled your number on a slip of paper, handing it to him along with the receipt.

jaehyun’s face lit up like a kid who’d just been handed the key to a candy store. and as he grabbed the drinks, he shot you one last wink, his voice low but sweet as honey.

“don’t be a stranger, pretty.”

from that moment on, jaehyun’s life brightened like a hazy sunrise burning through fog. he texted you constantly, his messages playful and sweet as he made an effort to get to know you better. late-night calls became a regular part of your routine, often happening when the stars were too bright and neither of you could fall asleep. his deep, velvety voice lulling you to sleep as you shared stories about your day, your favorite songs, and your childhood dreams.

jaehyun started dropping by Café 7 Dream more than he’d care to admit. even jungwoo gave up on teasing him about it after the fifth time.

you’d often spot him seated by the window, stealing glances at you as you worked. his presence slowly became a comforting part of your routine—something you found yourself looking forward to.

one night, during one of your late-night calls, you noticed something different about him. jaehyun, always so confident and self-assured, was stuttering and fumbling over his words. his laugh also sounded a little more nervous than usual.

“yn,” he began, his voice soft. “i was thinking… would you uh like to go on a date with me? and not the ones where i um watch you brew coffee for hours and then walk you home. i mean, like, an actual date…”

one where we’re no longer strangers. if you um get what i mean.”

your heart fluttered, a smile spreading across your face at his confession. “i’d love that, jaehyun,” you replied, and the laugh he let out in relief made you giggle in return.

he spent the next ten minutes animatedly planning out the date, his excitement was so infectious that you found yourself falling even harder for him.

when the evening of the date arrived, jaehyun was a nervous wreck. despite jungwoo’s relentless teasing, he continued to fuss over every little detail of his outfit, muttering to himself about making a good impression.

but when he arrived at your door to pick you up, his breath caught, his heart racing faster than ever before. you looked stunning, your shy smile only causing him to blush harder. “you’re… woah,” he stammered, earning a soft laugh from you.

the date was perfect. dinner at a cozy restaurant was filled with laughter and effortless conversation. afterward, jaehyun took you to the local arcade, where you both let loose, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. he even let you beat him at basketball, though the grin on his face made it clear that he didn’t mind in the slightest.

the night ended with a quiet walk under the stars, your hands brushing against each other’s until he finally mustered the courage to lace his fingers with yours. the warmth of his touch sent a pleasant shiver up your spine, and the comfortable silence between you felt more meaningful than words.

when you reached your doorstep, jaehyun hesitated, shuffling his feet slightly as he stood there, shoulders squared but eyes flickering nervously between you and the ground.

the date had been perfect for jaehyun. from the laughter you two shared over dinner, to the way your eyes sparkled as you trounced him at every arcade game, each moment felt like something out of a daydream.

but a storm of doubts swirled in his mind: was he moving too fast? did you even feel comfortable with him? were you genuinely having fun—or had you just been too polite to say otherwise? did you think the date was perfect, too—or, oh god, did you hate it? worse—did you hate him?

“jaehyun,” you said softly, cutting through his overthinking spiral.

he blinked, his lips parting as if to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

you smiled at his hesitation, a flicker of nervousness crossing your own features but deciding to take the leap for both of you. “kiss me.”

his breath hitched at your words. “s-sorry?” his voice just shy of a squeak. “could you, uh, repeat that? i think i might’ve misheard—”

“i said,” you stepped closer, tilting your head up slightly to meet his gaze, “kiss me, jaehyun.”

for a moment, he just stood there, completely frozen, his eyes blowing comically wide. why did this scene feel so familiar? you giggled at his reaction, the soft sound like a melody against the still night air. but your laughter died in your throat when jaehyun surprised you by cupping your face gently.

with a soft brush of his thumb, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes searching yours. “may i? really?” he whispered, his voice low and slightly trembling.

you smiled, leaning into his touch,

“don’t be a stranger, pretty.”

authors note: i don't necessarily believe in love at first sight but if its jaehyun, ill believe in anything. please enjoy… >0<

[cheriden]

「 my "i love you" 」 | pt. 1 。。。

"You're so pretty, I love you. Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as Beomgyu chants the phrase louder like a prayer. "

── synopsis 。Your best friend with benefits (whom you have a crush on) is too sweet in bed

pairing 。switch!top choi beomgyu x f! reader

.ᐟ genre 。angst, smut, mdni!

.ᐟ tags 。friends with benefits, unrequited love, praise kink, missionary so they can argue, a lot of teasing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it and get tested!), creampie (on pill!), miscommunication, beomgyu's an idiot

.ᐟ status & word count 。two-parts | 3.04k

part 1 | part 2

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。reuploaded because i'm fucking stupid. i do think ppl can be fwb without feelings but mc is a lovergirl for today ☝☝, not really proofread, semi-rushed, beomgyu is kinda dumb, no happy end (yet?)

At some point this arrangement has to end. You know that. He knows it; moreover everyone who knows that you’ve been sleeping with Beomgyu says it. You’re also aware that you should be the one to end it; A friends of benefits situation hinted at by Beomgyu, leading to a proposition started by you. 

He comes over more frequently, showers you in more affection, in addition to subconsciously doing little habits lovers would do. As the patterns start to weave with your everyday life, you start to wonder who gains the most out of this agreement. Of course, such matters shouldn’t be weighed, especially between friends. He gets his release out of a glorified, whiny, pussy mitten, and you get to take a sneak peak of what it would be like to be his. 

It’s not like you’re gonna get more than that.

Naturally, this thought process circulates your mind a lot, its conclusion always left as a draft or with a conflicting thought. Listening to the pitter-patter against the glass pane, you reason with yourself while you send him a text and sink into the bed, thinking, “The aftercare is nice, plus things have gotten stressful lately.” 

All the inward bickering with yourself never lasts, because in the end, a full five minutes pass before three’s knocking on the door. With a heavy mind and body, you drag yourself to the anterior of the studio to unlock it. 

On the other end is a panting brunette, glasses skewed and hair disheveled. Beomgyu brings his hood down, leaves his keys on the shabby table up front, kicking his shoes off beside it. You step away from the door, with him trailing behind you meekly. No words are exchanged, contrast to the obnoxiously loud string of filth when the two of you hook up. Once you enter the bedroom, you immediately fall onto the bed, propping yourself up to the headboard. You study him expectantly, moving to your right and replacing your weight with his own. He scans the room, playing with the hem of your shirt. “You got new sheets.” He starts, voice soft and low while he rests into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “They’re really soft.” With a hum, you move to get on top of him, your legs entrapping him. Simultaneously, you set your weight down on him slowly, and he seals his eyes with a small jerk from his hips. “You really came over to talk about my sheets?” The brunette gives you a small smile, cocking his head to the side. “You seriously texted me just to do nothing?” The other returns, sitting up to meet your form. 

He latches his lips onto your neck, trailing it upwards to kiss the sharp of your jaw. “You’re assuming.” you comment, biting down on the inners of your bottom lip to fend off sound. “We used to hang out all the time before we started fucking.” He stops his kisses to peer at you, his mouth covered in sheen. “You texted me saying, ‘Wanna do it?’ I don’t think I was that far off from what you were planning.” You nod your head, lifting the ends of his shirt, bringing his face back into your neck. In turn, he brings his arms up the small of your back, caressing it before detaching himself once again. “You don’t have a bra on.” He says, like it’s some sort of otherworldly fact. Raising an eyebrow, you respond, “Well yeah, it’s my apartment. Nobody’s home and my top’s frilly enough to hide everything.” He nods, planting a swift peck on your lips, he gives you a bright-eyed smile. “It suits you.”

You don’t know if he’s teasing, or if this is part of the foreplay. You recall wearing the exact same top half a decade ago to see a movie with Beomgyu alone, loose and brand new with a skirt that sat right above the upper quartile of your thigh. You told yourself that it would be the day you confessed to him, or tried to get him to do something in the theater. Instead, he giggled at you, smoothening the sides of your frayed braids, telling you that you dressed silly and clean. You weren’t sure what he was implying about you, but the red hue that had painted on your cheeks that stayed throughout the whole run-time of the movie was enough to get you to quit wearing that top outdoors out of embarrassment. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, pushing the bunched up shirt around you, pulling it above your head. “Nothing” you mumble, yelping when he flips you, hovering above you as he begins to tug at the garter of your shorts. Lifting your ass, the other pulls at the fabric in one swoop. “Don’t get distracted and ignore me.” He pouts, hooking your underwear while the knuckle of his middle finger grazes over your core. “Couldn’t possibly forget,” you huff out, subtly lowering yourself onto his digit, “you’re too annoying—” Cutting yourself off with a gasp, his tongue replaces his finger, giving kitty licks over the cloth. “I’m so annoying I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of this.” He gloats in between breaths, left hand intertwined with yours as the right has its hold on the skin atop your pelvic bone, thumb rubbing circles and drawing patterns. You keep quiet, concentrating on suppressing your noises and grabbing the brunette’s hair. Pulling his face into you, he retracts, kissing the sides of your underwear. “Beomgyu,” you hiss, yanking his head up to study him. “Don’t be a prick.” The brunette gives you another pout, slowly bringing the garment to level with your knees. “But you’re cute when you’re squirming,” he pauses, trailing kisses up to your belly button. “You're also hot when you’re mean.” With a scoff, you shove his head away, and he returns to face your heat. His tongue prods at your entrance; you curse, grinding yourself onto it. “You’re impatient today,” he remarks, rubbing the apple of his cheek against your lower abdomen. “Stop playing around,” You bite back, grasping onto his hair to keep him in place, “you’re not usually this taunting.” Beomgyu sneers, pressing his nose on your clit. “Taunting you? Can’t I just want my baby to feel good?”

The term of endearment causes you to jolt against him. He chuckles, vibrations shooting up your body, draping an arm over your eyes. “Does my baby like it when I call her that?” He asks, to which you nod unconsciously, body writhing as your whines get pitchier. 

Beomgyu gets off on your praise, gets off on seeing just how much you need him. So it's obvious that his next course of action is to stop contact with you altogether, pulling himself back, smirk plastered on his face. “Say it.” He coos, frotting the fabric of his jeans over your bare cunt; the texture makes you writhe. “Say you like being called baby, and that you love it when I go down on you.” A sense of protecting your dignity washes over you. You turn away with your mouth shut as he moans over you. “Never.” 

The other picks up speed, and you clamp the back of your hand against your lips to prevent a whimper. Beomgyu shrugs, paying no mind to your stubbornness. “Guess I'll have to force it out of you.” 

He’s cocky now, but the more he rubs against you, the louder and sloppier he gets. “Don’t cum in your pants over dry humping me, Beomie.” You mock. In return he ends with one last slow grind. “Shut up.”

He relents, mouthing the opening of your core again and lapping it in circles—prying it open with his fingers, tongue moving to suck on the tip. Toes curling, you grip at the headboard as he eats you out. His hips buck at the sheets beneath him, ruining the cloth he was praising a few minutes ago. “I’m close,” you sputter, grip on his strands tightening with little regard for his breathing. 

Beomgyu—the brat that he is, halts the process once more, and you shoot him an annoyed look. “Are you serious right now? Do you not want me to cum?”

He purses his lips as if in thought, leaning to spread kisses over your clavicle. “Tell me that—” “You groan, throwing one of the smaller pillows at him. “Be for real. I’m not doing that shit.” The other pretends to sulk, hands working his way through your body and massaging your breasts. “Fine. Tell me what you want then, since my princess is so impatient and temperamental. You moan at the new nickname, and he doesn’t fail to notice. “I’ll call you all the names you want if you just tell me what you want.”

He’s back to teasing your entrance. Defeated, you tell him as fast as you can, “Need to cum, need you in me.”

Beomgyu tuts, shaking his head. “What’s the magic word?” 

“Now.” You hiss, glare sharp. All he does is smile, kissing you one last time. “Okay, only because you’re so cute and you need me.” You’re not given the time to act all snobbish about his words, thoughts cut off by the sudden moaning at your cunt, Beomgyu trying and succeeding at pushing all your buttons as he sends you to the edge. A long moan exits you as you ride your orgasm out on his face, seeing spots of white as your mind tingles in pleasure. 

The brunette kneels to undo his bottoms with your help, with you kissing the bands of the underwear and carved bone. “Like I said,” he sighs, hands on your shoulders to push you back into the mattress, “Impatient..”

He curses as the tip of his dick runs through the lips of your pussy, rutting it slowly. “You’re so hard,” you coo, cupping a cheek and working his dick to press on you, “You look like you haven’t fucked in—ever.” He whines at your ridicule—but it spurs him more, bucking his hips faster against you. 

Beomgyu’s lids are heavy and his jaw is slack, grunting. “Look at me,” You start, his eyes finding yours as he whimpers, “I thought you were proving just how much I needed you?”

He says nothing, staring at you intently. You ask, “What do you want?” He moans, grinds deeper and paces wider. “Need to fuck you so bad," you tilt your head, encouraging him to say more. 

“Please.” 

You give him the go ahead, and he wastes no time in sliding himself in, his desperation making him seem too excited and clingy. You let out a small laugh, though it’s not long before your prideful smirk is displaced by the other’s mouth. By your command, he thrusts swifter with more depth, moaning into your mouth. 

Your lips leave his, watching the line so spit snap, falling over his own, pink and swollen. “You look so pretty, my baby.”

It’s so confusing to you, intense in a way that it gets you going, yet also in a sense that it’s heartbreaking. You savor the moments he calls you his, even if it's only for a moment. 

“You’re so pretty,” he pants against your temples, short for breath. He clenches his eyes  closed, rolling his hips into you at a painfully slow pace. Your heels dig at the lower portion of his back, urging him to focus on fucking you fast and hard. Beomgyu on the other hand has a different idea in mind. He pulls back, detaching your arms from his, observing the shaft of his cock work its way into your sopping wet cunt. This whole scenario is obscene, dick outlining your stomach when he buries himself into you, pussy clamping on his member, the wet sounds paired with your cries get him off further. “Fuck, I’m close.” He groans, elbows back down near your sides while you cling yourself onto him once more. Thrusts hastier and needier than the last, he mutters something mindlessly—loud enough for you to hear.

“I love you.” 

Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as he chants the phrase louder like a prayer. You feel the sting of tears building in your eye sockets. Chalking it up to overstimulation, you direct all your energy to hinder it, but you can’t multitask, the bruise forming on your lips finding a break as you squeeze your eyes shut. Soon enough you’re vocal, something in the middle of wailing and moaning. “Beomgyu,” you sob, yanking his tugging his head back to meet your gaze, “I’m—” Drool trickles down your chin; he swipes it away with his thumb, trailing it with quick open-mouthed kisses. “You’re so pretty.” He repeats, smudging your tears on the sides of your face. “Always pretty when you go dumb on my cock.” He moans, rhythm quivering and sights set on getting you to come one last time before chasing his own release. “I’m close, gonna fill you up.” His thrusts fasten in urgency, hissing when you scratch his back and scream his name, your back arching off the mattress. Your hips set its pace to his, and soon enough you come to the feeling of his own, hot and thick as lava against your walls while the both of you ride out your orgasm.

Regulating your breathing, you wipe your tears before he pulls his head up to gaze at you directly. He looks properly fucked out, but pulls out slowly with kisses across your face to distract you from the feeling, settling beside you instead of keeping on top of you. 

A slurry of emotions plague your mind all at once, an aftershock that feels like it hit the ground too fast, too soon. 

It’s overwhelming—not the good kind of overwhelming you should be feeling when someone tells you they love you, because you know Beomgyu didn't mean it like that. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes you want to gut and lobotomize yourself, cursing about the fact that  you’re feeling such mental and emotional torment over something so trivial.

Mind clearing up a little, you slide the thin duvet up your form; you sit up and clear your throat. “I think we should stop doing this.” You say slowly. The room is still, save for the heavy rain and whirs of the flimsy standing fan. His gaze frantically runs up your body, focusing alternating between your eyes and nothing in particular. His Adam's apple bobs vertically, yet all that comes out of his mouth is one word that teeters on a whisper. “What?” Locking your gaze with his own, you take a shaky breath, “People think we’re dating, Beomgyu. I don’t want this,” you gesture between the two of you, “whatever this is, to get in the way of me finding a potential relationship.” He sinks deeper into the mattress, Gaping at the ceiling. He asks, “Is this so bad?” View following his—you stare at the barren overhead, replying monotonously. “It is if I want to find a loving partner.” “I mean for people to think that we’re dating. Would that be the worst?” He interjects, the air from your lungs thinning out when you stutter. “Piss off.” 

He scoffs, sitting up to match your posture. “It’s not that big of a deal. You get horny, we have sex. That’s it.” You lower your head to shake it. “It is to me. You may not have a problem sticking your dick in anything that moves, but I want to feel wanted.” The bed creaks as he inches his body closer to yours. “Fuck you. I—” You lean back, widening the distance between the two of you. “Don’t start. This is different. I want a loving, meaningful relationship.” “That’s bullshit.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Fuck you.” You spit, beyond aggravated. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it these past months.” He retorts; you start clenching the plush blanket at your sides, knuckles turning white. After a few beats, you speak up again. “I think we should just be friends.” You watch him gnaw at the lower half of his lips, nodding his head. “Wait, Is it because I said that I love you?” He starts, “because, I don’t ‘love you’ love you. That was a heat-of-the moment, middle-of-sex ‘love you’.” 

You render yourself taciturn, silence thickening as time passes. You hold yourself back from saying words you know you wouldn’t be able to take back, Fixating on counting the droplets resting on the window. His hands sneak up and move your face to look at him, coaxing his forehead against yours after planting a delicate peck on the wrinkles.

“I don’t love you. Promise.” 

Beomgyu brushes his lips on the corners of your own, thumbing circles gently across your cheeks. “You have nothing to worry about.” 

His grasp on you has gone icy and numbing, matching the cool of the downpour as your mind tunes into its melancholic static. 

since this is a reup, i've decided to take the results from the deleted post, which was a landslide vote anyway. thank you to those who helped me reach 200+ notes and who reblogged, i would have lost this fic otherwise:)

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs and tags appreciated♡

[redcherrykook]

────𐙚 inevitable transition (a)

────୨ৎ────

content: cheater!jungkook

note from cherry: i've spent the past days horribly anxious and with all this nervous energy, i channeled this angsty fic. I hope it hurts in the rightest ways.

────୨ৎ────

Waking up to a silent phone.

Ordinary buzzing of your alarm and sheer nothingness after. The other side of the bed was left empty, touseld, not unusual. He does wake up earlier than you do, does have a tight schedule.

Your phone remained empty.

A routine you had gotten familair with recently.

Your "thinking about you baby" and "I love you my angel" texts have disappeared into thin air. Merged with the chirping of birds that are only audible for the ones who wake up early enough to witness them.

In actuality, they have been transfered to the screen of another.

Her arguably beautiful face lights up in the morning, greeted by his profile picture. Him, him and his doberman. For her, it did not matter when she woke, he'd been there. Left his traces, given security.

You knew this, yet he still kissed you with the same lingering smile, spit the same "love you" when met with your presence.

It had become routine after all, to behave like lovers.

Which explains why, when Jungkook changed his profile photo from him and you sharing a kiss, you did not question it. Brushed over it, like he did every time he came home late.

Until the lights started to give out as well, the apartment he came back to had turned dim. A house, simply that.

Jungkook no longer felt home.

His arms had not lost their strength and yet, an embrace had never felt weaker. A kiss never duller.

It seemed almost too perfect, how he'd put on a show- pretend as though all these miniscule things didn't turn into a portrait of his betrayal, did not hold any weight to them. An accumilation of odd details. If you didn't know better, he seemed close to oblivious.

"You're overthinking it" his voice ringed, filling your ears with a sentence that should have been reassuring, should have put your racing heart at ease, lowered your cortisol.

In contrast, that is far from what it had done to you. It should have been obvious why he started referring to you with your full name, should have been evident why it took him longer to respond, longer to like your posts and even longer to message first.

Well aware of who he was talking to when it showed he is online but your text still read delivered.

It was right before your teary eyes.

The livingroom clock ticks, time will pass recklessly, without control. The minutes will go by anyways.

You grew into the habit of reminiscing times of a near past- you had been his only once. When there had not been another number to dial, a selfie to open, a giggle to share.

Bittnernes from your morning coffee mingled with the question, if that reality ever existed in the first place or if- maybe, he has been awaiting a chance to escape, replace, all along.

'I'm so attached to you'- a simple string of a unkept words that have forgotten their true integrity somewhere along allure and temptation of another. He hadn't meant it, nor could he bare the slight drop in the corner of your diluded smile- one which used to possess the property of igniting a spark inside his chest.

Jungkook's attachment is mirroring a sticker stuck to the back of ones phone, peeling away from continued usage, drained of its color, barely grasping the surface. Simultaneously, it was however, no more than the remainders of its glue that you will never be able to rid yourself of- it would always be part of you.

You have been forgotten before- have blended into the anonymity of a growing circle when on your part, it has only been you two. an us. it would stay that way for you, for as long as your lungs work, as long as your heart pumps.

[andy-15-07]

hi! can i request a friends to lovers fanfic where the reader is a surgeon and met pedro through mutual friends, but then they grew apart because of their busy schedule. After a few years they meet again and decide to date, thanks 🖤

From Friends to Forever

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x female reader

Word Count: 2074 | requests are open!

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The upscale restaurant buzzed with a lively energy, the clinking of glasses and the soft laughter of patrons creating a warm, inviting atmosphere. You sat nestled in a booth, a rare evening off from the whirlwind of your life as a surgeon granting you this moment of respite. The long, grueling shifts, the constant pressure of life-or-death situations, and the emotional weight that clung to you like a second skin had left little room for anything beyond the sterile walls of the hospital. But tonight was different. Tonight, you found yourself face-to-face with Pedro .

The memory of your initial meeting, a serendipitous encounter orchestrated by mutual friends, flashed through your mind. His infectious laughter and the warmth that radiated from him had drawn you in immediately. You'd spent hours engrossed in conversation, bonding over shared passions, late-night musings, and a mutual appreciation for the simple pleasures of life, like sharing a bottle of cheap wine and debating the merits of obscure indie films.

However, life had a way of intruding on even the most cherished connections. His career had skyrocketed, propelled by a string of critically acclaimed roles, while your own life was consumed by the relentless demands of your surgical residency. Phone calls became less frequent, texts went unanswered, and the vibrant thread of your friendship gradually frayed, fading into a distant memory.

Yet, here he was, sitting across from you, that same mischievous glint in his eyes, that familiar warmth emanating from him. "How long has it been?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, laced with a hint of surprise and a touch of nostalgia.

"Too long," you replied, taking a sip of your wine, the cool liquid a welcome respite from the sudden flutter in your chest. "You've been busy becoming a household name, while I've been buried under a mountain of surgeries."

He chuckled, leaning back in his chair, a comfortable ease settling over him. "Fair enough. But look at you! Surgeon extraordinaire. You always had that drive."

"And you always had that charm," you retorted playfully, earning a genuine laugh from him. The ice was broken.

The rest of the evening unfolded with a surprising ease. The years that had drifted by seemed to melt away, replaced by a comfortable familiarity. You found yourself drawn into his stories, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as he described the challenges and triumphs of his career. In turn, you shared glimpses into the demanding world of medicine, the adrenaline-fueled chaos of the operating room, and the profound satisfaction, and sometimes the crushing weight, of saving lives.

As the night wore on, the restaurant began to empty, the initial buzz replaced by a lingering sense of contentment. Pedro glanced at you, his expression softening, a question unspoken hanging in the air. "Hey," he began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "do you have a moment? There's a little coffee shop around the corner. Want to catch up properly?"

You hesitated, glancing at your watch. You had an early shift tomorrow, the exhaustion of the past few weeks threatening to catch up with you. But the pull to reconnect, to delve deeper into this unexpected reunion, was undeniable. "Sure," you agreed, grabbing your coat.

The coffee shop was a haven of tranquility, the warm glow of the lights casting a soft halo over the worn leather booths. You settled into a cozy corner, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Pedro ordered two lattes, his gaze lingering on you as he spoke to the barista.

"So," he began, his voice low and sincere, "tell me everything. What's it like saving lives every day?"

You smiled, tracing the rim of your cup, the warmth radiating through the ceramic. "It's rewarding, incredibly so. But it's also...intense. The hours are long, the pressure is immense. You're constantly on the edge, dealing with life-and-death situations. Sometimes, it feels like there's no room for anything else."

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze searching yours. "Sounds lonely."

"It can be," you admitted, a tinge of melancholy coloring your voice. "But I've learned to find joy in the small things. Like this," you gestured to the steaming cup of coffee, "these quiet moments, these unexpected connections. They remind me that there's more to life than just the operating room."

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "I get that. Acting can be the same way. It's easy to get lost in the whirlwind, to become consumed by the character, the performance. You lose sight of everything else."

For hours, you poured your heart out, sharing your fears, your dreams, the joys and the sorrows that shaped your life. He listened intently, his eyes reflecting a genuine interest in your story. In turn, he opened up about the challenges of his own career, the constant scrutiny, the pressure to maintain a public persona while navigating the complexities of his personal life.

As the night deepened, you found yourself captivated by his honesty, his vulnerability. The years of distance seemed to melt away, replaced by a comfortable intimacy that had been dormant for far too long. As you parted ways, a sense of warmth, a feeling you hadn't realized you'd been missing, lingered in your heart.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of reconnection. Texts and calls became a lifeline, a way to bridge the gap between your busy schedules. You shared stories, laughed until your sides ached, and discovered a renewed appreciation for each other's company. Late-night phone calls became your refuge, a space where you could unwind, share your deepest thoughts, and simply enjoy each other's presence.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day at the hospital, your phone buzzed with a text from Pedro. "Hey, are you free this weekend?" he asked, his tone unusually hesitant.

"I think so. Why?"

"There's this little art exhibit I've been dying to see. Thought maybe you'd join me?"

You smiled, touched by the invitation. "I'd love to."

The exhibit was a feast for the senses, a vibrant explosion of colors and textures. Pedro's enthusiasm was contagious as he guided you through the gallery, sharing his insights, his interpretations of the art. You found yourself captivated by his passion, his ability to see the world through a different lens. At one point, you caught him watching you, a thoughtful expression gracing his features.

"What?" you asked, a playful lilt to your voice.

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just...happy you're here."

Something shifted in that moment. The air between you thrummed with a subtle energy, a connection deeper than mere friendship. The realization hit you with the force of a tidal wave – this was more than just a casual reunion, more than a friendly catch-up.

The weeks that followed were a delicate dance, a slow, tentative exploration of a burgeoning connection. His gestures became more pronounced – a lingering touch, a compliment that lingered on your mind long after he'd spoken. And then, one evening, as you walked along a quiet street, he stopped abruptly, his gaze fixed on you.

"I need to say something," he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. "I've been trying to ignore it, but I can't. I like you. More than a friend should."

Your heart pounded against your ribs, the weight of his words sinking in. "Pedro..."

"I know it's complicated," he interrupted, his gaze intense. "Our schedules are insane, and it won't be easy. But I'm willing to try. If you are."

Tears welled up in your eyes, the intensity of his confession overwhelming you. "I'm willing," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

The transition from friends to lovers was a gradual, organic process. You navigated the complexities of your careers, finding solace in stolen moments, late-night phone calls, and weekend escapes. His unwavering support became your anchor, a constant source of strength during the most challenging days. You would wait for you outside the hospital after a long shift, bringing coffee and a warm smile that could melt away the exhaustion of the day. You would spend hours on set with him, watching him transform into a different character, marveling at his dedication and talent.

One evening, as you sat on the edge of his bed, watching him read a script, you noticed a small, silver locket tucked into his jeans pocket. Curiosity piqued, you reached out and gently pulled it out.

"What's this?" you asked, turning it over in your hand.

He looked up from the script, a hint of surprise in his eyes. "Oh, that." He hesitated, then continued, "It was my grandmother's. She gave it to me before she passed away. She told me to hold onto it, to remember the things that truly matter."

You opened the locket. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a faded photograph of a young woman with kind eyes and a warm smile.

"She was beautiful," you said softly.

"She was," Pedro agreed, a touch of melancholy in his voice. "She taught me about love, about family, about the importance of cherishing the moments that truly count."

He reached for the locket, his fingers brushing against yours. "I want to give you something," he said, his voice low and husky.

He pulled out a small box from his bedside table and opened it. Inside, nestled on a bed of satin, was a delicate silver bracelet, a single diamond sparkling in the center.

"It's… it's beautiful," you whispered, your breath catching in your throat.

He slipped the bracelet onto your wrist, his gaze intense. "It's for you. A reminder of the moments we've shared, and the many more to come."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his. The kiss was slow, tender, a culmination of weeks of unspoken emotions. As you pulled away, you looked into his eyes, and you knew. This was it. This was the beginning of something truly special.

The following months were a whirlwind of stolen moments and unexpected joys. You navigated the challenges of your demanding careers with a newfound sense of ease, your love a constant source of strength and support. You learned to cherish the small moments – a shared cup of coffee in the morning, a stolen dance in his trailer on set, a quiet evening at home, watching a movie curled up on the couch. You discovered that even in the midst of chaos, there was always time for love.

One evening, months later, Pedro surprised you with a weekend getaway to a secluded cabin in the woods. The crisp autumn air, the crackling fire, and the peaceful silence were a balm to your souls. As you sat on the porch, watching the stars twinkle in the night sky, Pedro turned to you, his eyes filled with a love that transcended words.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Will you marry me?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you nodded, unable to speak. He pulled you close, burying his face in your hair. "Yes," you whispered finally, "yes, a thousand times yes."

The wedding was a small, intimate affair, held in a charming vineyard overlooking the rolling hills of Tuscany. Your friends, family, and a select few colleagues from both your worlds gathered to celebrate the love that had blossomed between you. As you stood at the altar, exchanging vows, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. You had found your soulmate, the one person who made your heart sing and your life feel complete.

Years later, as you sat on the porch of your own cozy cabin, watching your children play in the garden, you couldn't help but smile. Life had thrown its curveballs, but you had navigated them together, your love a constant, unwavering force. You looked at Pedro, who was now reading a bedtime story to your son, and you knew that this was just the beginning of your happily ever after. The clinking of glasses and the laughter of friends faded into a distant memory, replaced by the sound of children's giggles and the gentle rhythm of your own lives. And as you watched them, you realized that the greatest adventure of all was not the fame or the fortune, but the love you had built, brick by brick, a testament to the enduring power of connection and the magic of finding your way back to each other.

[fioredeciliego]

Lost in the Light - Giselle x Fem!Reader

12.6K words

The carnival entrance was alive with a kaleidoscope of colors and sounds. Strings of twinkling lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a golden glow on the crowds below. Somewhere to the left, a man was calling out for people to try their luck at a ring toss, while the smell of fresh funnel cakes wafted from a nearby food stall. Y/N stood near the ticket booth, craning her neck in a futile attempt to spot her friends among the throng of laughing families and couples.

She sighed, clutching her phone as another unanswered text lit up the screen. Where are you guys? she typed again, glancing around in frustration. The noise, the lights—it was all starting to feel overwhelming.

Just as she turned to step away, someone bumped into her hard from the side. The collision sent Y/N stumbling a bit, and before she could process what was happening, she felt something light and fluffy cascade down her arm.

“Oh no! My popcorn!”

Y/N blinked, looking down to see buttery kernels scattered across the pavement and clinging to her jacket. She looked up, her annoyance quickly dissolving as she met the sheepish gaze of the person responsible.

“I am so sorry,” the girl stammered, brushing her short, raven-black hair out of her face. She wore an oversized beige jacket over a simple black top, and the mortified look in her doe-like eyes was enough to make Y/N’s irritation melt away.

“It’s fine,” Y/N said, brushing some popcorn off her sleeve. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good,” the girl replied, giving an apologetic smile. “But my popcorn, clearly, is not.” She glanced at the mess on the ground with exaggerated despair. “It didn’t deserve to go out like this.”

Y/N let out a laugh, surprising herself. “Tragic, really. It had so much more life to live.”

“Exactly!” The girl grinned, holding up the now-empty popcorn box. “Guess I’ll have to grab another, though at this rate, I might as well wear it instead.”

The humor in her voice was infectious, and Y/N found herself relaxing despite the chaos around them. “Here, let me help you clean up,” she offered, but the girl waved her off.

“It’s okay. No point crying over spilled popcorn, right?” She tilted her head, her expression turning curious. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Y/N sighed, glancing at her phone again. “Yeah, my friends. But I think I’ve officially lost them.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “No way, same here. I was supposed to meet up with my group, but I kind of got distracted by... everything.” She gestured vaguely at the carnival behind her, a slight pout forming on her lips.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at her animated frustration. “It’s easy to get lost in all this. It’s like sensory overload.”

“Right? I mean, who puts the popcorn stand next to the bumper cars? Recipe for disaster.”

They both laughed, the awkwardness of their initial collision fading.

“I’m Aeri, by the way,” the girl said, holding out a hand.

“Y/N,” Y/N replied, shaking it. Aeri’s grip was warm and firm, and for a moment, Y/N felt a strange but pleasant flutter in her chest.

“So,” Aeri began, letting go of Y/N’s hand. “Since we’re both stranded in this neon wilderness, how about we help each other out? Two lost people are better than one, right?”

Y/N hesitated. “You want to team up?”

“Why not?” Aeri shrugged, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Unless you have a better plan?”

Y/N thought about it for a moment. She had no idea where her friends were, and navigating the carnival alone sounded like a nightmare. Besides, there was something oddly comforting about Aeri’s presence, even though they’d just met.

“Alright,” Y/N said, slipping her phone into her pocket. “But if we end up more lost than we already are, I’m blaming you.”

“Fair,” Aeri replied with a playful smirk. “Now, let’s find our people—and maybe some replacement popcorn while we’re at it.”

They started walking together, weaving through the bustling crowds. Aeri took the lead, her head turning this way and that as if she were a detective on a mission. Y/N followed closely, trying not to lose sight of her in the sea of faces.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the silence. “What’s your group like?”

“Oh, they’re great,” Aeri replied, her tone light. “Chaotic, but great. We came here for the rides, but knowing them, they’re probably stuck at the game booths trying to win some ridiculous prize.”

“Classic carnival behavior,” Y/N said, nodding. “What about you? Are you a rides person or more into the food and games?”

“Hmm.” Aeri tilted her head thoughtfully. “Rides are fun, but there’s something about carnival food that just hits differently, you know? Like, when else do you get an excuse to eat fried Oreos and pretend it’s normal?”

Y/N laughed. “True. I’m more of a rides person, though. Love the adrenaline.”

Aeri grinned. “Noted. We’ll have to hit the Ferris wheel later.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “A Ferris wheel isn’t exactly an adrenaline rush.”

“It is if you’re afraid of heights,” Aeri quipped, her smirk widening.

Their banter continued as they wandered through the carnival, stopping occasionally to look around for any familiar faces. They didn’t find their friends, but Y/N found herself enjoying the conversation more than she expected.

“So,” Aeri said after a while, “what’s your story? How’d you end up here?”

“My friends thought it would be fun,” Y/N replied. “And it is, I guess. Just didn’t expect to get separated.”

Aeri nodded. “Same here. Honestly, though, I’m kind of glad I got lost. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have run into you.”

The comment caught Y/N off guard, and she felt her cheeks heat up slightly. “You mean you wouldn’t have spilled popcorn all over me?”

“Exactly,” Aeri said with a grin. “Clearly, fate wanted us to meet.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile. Something told her this night was going to be a lot more memorable than she’d anticipated.

The carnival stretched out before them, a maze of glowing attractions and excited laughter. They’d meandered toward the rides, the colorful glow of a Ferris wheel dominating the skyline. Aeri slowed as they approached the ticket booth, reaching for her wallet with casual confidence.

“Alright,” Aeri declared, flipping open her wallet with a flourish. “Let’s grab some tickets and hit the rides.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Let’s? Who said I agreed to rides?”

“Oh, please,” Aeri said, shooting her a playful look. “You just admitted you’re a rides person. No way you’re backing out now.”

“Fine,” Y/N conceded, hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “But we’re splitting the cost.”

“Absolutely not.” Aeri stepped forward, handing a crisp bill to the ticket attendant before Y/N could protest.

“Wait—” Y/N stammered, reaching for her own wallet. “I said we’re splitting!”

Aeri waved her off, a cheeky grin tugging at her lips. “Consider it my apology for the popcorn incident.”

The attendant handed over a stack of tickets, which Aeri took with a triumphant air. She turned to Y/N, holding the tickets just out of reach. “See? Problem solved.”

Y/N crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “I don’t need an apology. Besides, you’re not the only one who can pay, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Aeri teased, stepping closer and dangling the tickets like a prize. “But I’m not letting you. What kind of person would I be if I let the victim of my popcorn tragedy pay for her own fun?”

Y/N sighed, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been told that before,” Aeri said with a wink, tucking the tickets into her jacket.

Y/N watched her for a moment, half tempted to argue further. But there was something disarming about Aeri’s playful confidence, the way she so effortlessly took charge. It was... oddly endearing.

“Fine,” Y/N muttered, looking away to hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “But next time, I’m paying.”

“Deal,” Aeri replied, extending a hand as if to shake on it.

Y/N hesitated, then took her hand. The moment their palms met, Aeri gave a mock-serious nod. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said, pulling her hand back, though she couldn’t suppress a small smile.

They turned toward the rides, the tickets now burning a metaphorical hole in Aeri’s pocket.

“So,” Aeri began, surveying the attractions. “What’s first? Roller coaster? Haunted house? Or are we starting slow with the merry-go-round?”

Y/N snorted. “Merry-go-round? What are we, five?”

“Hey, merry-go-rounds can be fun,” Aeri said, feigning offense. “But fine. What’s your pick, adrenaline junkie?”

Y/N scanned the area, her eyes landing on a spinning ride that looked borderline terrifying. “How about that one?”

Aeri followed her gaze and let out a low whistle. “Bold choice. I like it.”

As they made their way to the ride, Aeri glanced at Y/N out of the corner of her eye. “You know,” she said casually, “this whole stubborn thing you’ve got going on is kind of cute.”

Y/N nearly tripped over her own feet. “What?”

“You heard me,” Aeri said, her smirk growing.

“I—I’m not stubborn,” Y/N protested, though her face was rapidly heating up.

“Sure you’re not,” Aeri said, clearly enjoying herself.

Before Y/N could come up with a retort, they reached the line for the ride. Aeri handed over two tickets with a flourish, and the attendant waved them through.

“After you,” Aeri said, motioning for Y/N to go first.

Y/N huffed but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at her lips. “Thanks... I guess.”

As they climbed into the ride and secured the harnesses, Y/N shot Aeri a sidelong glance. “You know, you’re awfully cocky for someone who’s scared of Ferris wheels.”

Aeri gasped in mock indignation. “Excuse me, I am not scared of Ferris wheels. I merely have a healthy respect for heights.”

“Right,” Y/N said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”

The ride operator called out instructions, and soon they were off, the world spinning in a blur of lights and laughter.

Aeri’s earlier teasing faded as she threw her hands up and let out a genuine laugh, her carefree energy infectious. Y/N found herself laughing too, all thoughts of their earlier bickering forgotten.

As the ride slowed to a stop, Aeri turned to Y/N, her cheeks flushed from the excitement. “Alright, I admit it,” she said breathlessly. “You have good taste in rides.”

“Glad you approve,” Y/N said, grinning.

They climbed out and started toward the next attraction, the playful banter picking up right where it left off.

The funhouse stood at the edge of the carnival, its colorful neon sign flickering like a siren’s call. Laughter echoed from within, mingling with carnival music and the distant hum of rides.

“A funhouse?” Y/N asked skeptically, eyeing the swirling patterns painted on the facade.

“What? Scared of a few mirrors?” Aeri teased, nudging her playfully.

“Not scared,” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms. “Just seems a little... pointless.”

“Pointless?” Aeri gasped in mock offense. “The funhouse is a carnival classic. Besides,” she added with a smirk, “it’s perfect for someone like you. Maybe you’ll finally find your way out of being directionally challenged.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “Fine. Let’s see if you can keep up.”

They stepped inside, the air immediately cooler and filled with the distorted echoes of giggles and shuffling feet. The maze of mirrors loomed ahead, stretching in every direction.

“Alright, navigator,” Y/N said, gesturing grandly. “Lead the way.”

“Gladly,” Aeri replied, striding forward confidently—only to smack straight into a mirror.

The dull thud was followed by a beat of silence, then Y/N’s laughter erupted.

“Oh, you’re definitely qualified to make fun of my sense of direction,” Y/N teased, clutching her sides.

Aeri rubbed her forehead, trying to maintain her dignity. “That was just a warm-up. Watch and learn.”

They ventured deeper into the maze, the mirrored walls playing tricks on their perception. Every turn seemed to lead to a distorted version of themselves, their reflections stretching, shrinking, or multiplying in ways that were equal parts amusing and unsettling.

At one point, Aeri stopped in front of a mirror that made her appear comically tall and thin. “What do you think?” she asked, striking an exaggerated pose. “Supermodel material, right?”

Y/N snorted. “If supermodels were designed by Picasso, sure.”

“Hey, don’t hate on the future of fashion,” Aeri said, feigning a pout before breaking into a laugh.

They continued to navigate the maze, the laughter flowing easily between them. But as they rounded another corner, Y/N suddenly realized Aeri was no longer beside her.

“Aeri?” she called out, her voice echoing eerily in the confined space.

“Over here!” Aeri’s voice replied, though it was hard to pinpoint where it was coming from.

Y/N turned in circles, each mirror reflecting a different version of herself. Her brow furrowed as she tried to figure out which path to take.

“Wow,” Aeri’s voice called again, this time closer. “You really are bad at this.”

“Keep talking,” Y/N retorted, squinting at her surroundings. “I’ll find you eventually.”

“Or maybe I’ll find you first,” Aeri quipped, her tone teasing.

Y/N groaned, taking another hesitant step forward. “This is ridiculous. How is it this hard to find one person?”

“Maybe I’m just good at hiding,” Aeri said, suddenly stepping out from behind a mirrored corner right in front of Y/N.

Y/N jumped, letting out an involuntary yelp. “Geez, warn me next time!”

Aeri grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “What, no thanks for rescuing you from your maze-induced despair?”

“Rescuing me?” Y/N repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one who got us separated in the first place.”

“Details, details,” Aeri said, waving a hand dismissively.

Y/N shook her head but couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet,” Aeri said, leaning slightly closer, “you keep hanging around.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sudden shift in Aeri’s tone catching her off guard. But before she could respond, Aeri stepped back with a wink.

“Come on,” Aeri said, gesturing toward the exit sign visible in the distance. “Let’s get out of here before you start leaving breadcrumbs to find your way back.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, following her toward the exit. “You’re lucky I have a sense of humor.”

As they emerged from the funhouse, the cool night air hit them, the carnival’s vibrant energy washing over them once again.

“So,” Aeri said, turning to Y/N with a mischievous grin. “What’s next? Haunted house? Ferris wheel? Or do you need a break to recover from your navigation failure?”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “I’ll take on whatever you’ve got, Picasso Supermodel.”

The warm glow of carnival lights painted everything in soft hues of pink and gold as Y/N and Aeri wandered toward the food stalls. The air was thick with the scent of sugar, fried dough, and buttery popcorn.

Aeri’s eyes lit up as she spotted the cotton candy stand, the machine spinning delicate clouds of pink and blue. “Oh, we’re stopping here. No arguments.”

Y/N chuckled. “Not arguing. Cotton candy’s basically a carnival necessity.”

They approached the stall, where the vendor—a cheerful older man in a striped shirt—greeted them with a wide smile. “What’ll it be? Pink, blue, or a mix?”

“Pink,” Aeri said decisively.

“Mix,” Y/N countered at the same time.

Aeri gave her a playful glare. “Pink is the classic choice. Don’t mess with perfection.”

“Blue’s just as good, and a mix is the best of both worlds,” Y/N argued, crossing her arms.

The vendor laughed, holding up his hands. “How about I make you the biggest one I’ve got, with both colors? Settles the debate, no?”

“Fine,” Aeri said with mock reluctance. “But only because I’m feeling generous.”

Y/N smirked. “Sure, let’s call it that.”

The vendor spun the cotton candy into an enormous, fluffy confection that looked almost too big to eat. Almost. Aeri handed over the cash, waving off Y/N’s attempt to contribute.

“Still trying to pay for everything, huh?” Y/N teased as they walked away from the stall.

“Of course,” Aeri said breezily, tearing off a piece of the cotton candy. “It’s part of my charm.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “If you say so.”

They found a quiet spot near a row of game booths, the noise of the carnival slightly muffled by the distance. Sitting on a low wooden fence, they passed the cotton candy back and forth, each taking turns tearing off pieces of the sugary treat.

“This stuff tastes exactly like I remember from when I was a kid,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with nostalgia.

“Did you come to carnivals a lot?” Aeri asked, tilting her head curiously.

“Not a lot,” Y/N admitted. “But whenever I did, I always made a beeline for the cotton candy. It felt like eating a cloud.”

Aeri grinned. “My friends and I used to dare each other to see who could eat the biggest piece without getting sticky fingers. Spoiler: None of us ever won.”

Y/N laughed, imagining a younger Aeri in the midst of a sugary, sticky competition. “I would’ve been the same. Carnivals were the one place I could let loose. Everything felt so magical, you know?”

Aeri nodded, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Yeah. Like nothing bad could happen when you were surrounded by all these lights and happy faces.”

For a moment, they both fell quiet, lost in their own thoughts. The hum of the carnival filled the silence, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter or the ringing of a game booth bell.

“Okay,” Aeri said suddenly, breaking the moment. “Important question: What’s your strategy for eating cotton candy?”

Y/N blinked at her. “Strategy?”

“Yes, strategy,” Aeri insisted, holding up the cotton candy like it was a priceless artifact. “Do you eat it in big bites or little pieces?”

“Little pieces, obviously,” Y/N said, demonstrating by plucking a small tuft of pink. “It’s about savoring the experience.”

“Wrong,” Aeri declared, leaning in dramatically. “The correct answer is big bites. Maximum flavor, minimal effort.”

Y/N gasped, feigning offense. “That’s barbaric! Cotton candy deserves respect.”

Aeri laughed, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s literally just sugar. I think it can handle a little barbarism.”

Shaking her head, Y/N grabbed the cotton candy and took an exaggeratedly dainty bite. “See? This is the proper way to—”

Before she could finish, Aeri lunged forward and took an enormous bite directly from the side of the cotton candy, her grin mischievous and unapologetic.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, holding the now-lopsided treat out of reach.

Aeri just laughed, a strand of cotton candy stuck to the corner of her mouth. “What? I’m demonstrating my superior strategy.”

Y/N sighed in mock exasperation but couldn’t help laughing. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Aeri said, echoing their earlier funhouse exchange, “you’re still hanging around.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up but quickly distracted herself by tearing off another piece of cotton candy. “Whatever. Just don’t eat it all before I get my share.”

They continued eating, the conversation drifting to their favorite carnival rides and games, childhood memories, and a few stories that had them both doubled over in laughter.

By the time the cotton candy was gone, their fingers sticky and their faces aching from smiling, Y/N felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the sugar rush.

“You know,” Aeri said as they stood to leave, “for someone who’s allegedly lost, you’re not bad company.”

“Right back at you,” Y/N replied, bumping Aeri’s shoulder lightly.

The Ferris wheel stood tall at the center of the carnival, its colorful lights blinking rhythmically against the night sky. It was a beacon of nostalgia, the kind of ride that people couldn’t resist no matter how many times they’d been on one before.

“We have to do it,” Aeri said, her eyes shining as she pointed to the ride.

Y/N hesitated. “Really? Isn’t it kind of... slow?”

“That’s the point,” Aeri replied, tugging on Y/N’s arm. “It’s a classic. Plus, the view at the top is unbeatable.”

Before Y/N could protest further, Aeri was already pulling her toward the line. It wasn’t long before they were climbing into one of the swinging gondolas, the carnival noise fading slightly as the ride operator secured the door.

As the wheel began its gentle ascent, Y/N found herself glancing nervously at the open sides of the gondola. “So, fun fact: I’m not the biggest fan of heights.”

Aeri smirked. “You’re afraid of heights, but you came to a carnival?”

“I didn’t plan to end up on a Ferris wheel,” Y/N retorted, gripping the edge of the seat.

“Relax,” Aeri said, her voice softer now. She placed a hand on Y/N’s arm. “It’s just a slow ride with a nice view. You’ll love it.”

The gondola swayed slightly as they reached the first stop, and Y/N sucked in a breath. Aeri chuckled but didn’t tease further, instead pointing out over the edge.

“Look,” she said. “You can see the whole carnival from here.”

Y/N followed her gaze. The scene below was breathtaking: a sea of colorful lights and bustling activity, the cheerful melodies of carnival music floating up to meet them. It was beautiful, almost surreal, and Y/N felt her tension ease slightly.

“Okay,” Y/N admitted. “It’s... pretty nice.”

“Told you,” Aeri said with a grin.

The ride continued its slow climb, the stops at each gondola giving them more time to take in the view. As they neared the top, the noise of the carnival grew faint, leaving them in a bubble of quiet punctuated by the creak of the Ferris wheel.

“Do you come to carnivals a lot?” Y/N asked, breaking the silence.

“Not as often as I’d like,” Aeri admitted, leaning back against the seat. “But when I do, I always end up on the Ferris wheel. There’s just something about it... I don’t know. It feels timeless.”

“Timeless?”

Aeri nodded, her gaze distant as she looked out over the carnival. “Yeah. Like, when you’re here, everything else disappears. The deadlines, the expectations, the chaos of real life—it all just... fades. It’s like stepping into a memory.”

Y/N watched her, the soft glow of the carnival lights reflecting in Aeri’s eyes. It was rare to see someone so unguarded, so honest.

“That’s... really beautiful,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aeri turned to her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, feeling her cheeks warm. “I never thought of it that way before, but you’re right. It does feel like that.”

The gondola reached the very top of the wheel and paused, leaving them suspended high above the carnival. The view was stunning, the world below a patchwork of lights and movement.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence comfortable as they took in the scene.

“I think that’s why I like coming here,” Aeri said finally. “Because it’s a chance to just... be. No distractions, no expectations. Just the moment.”

Y/N nodded, her hands relaxing on the edge of the seat. “I get that. It’s hard to find that kind of peace sometimes.”

Aeri glanced at her, her expression softening. “Yeah. But tonight’s been nice. Meeting you, wandering around like this... it’s been a good escape.”

Y/N felt her heart skip at the sincerity in Aeri’s voice. She wasn’t sure what to say, so she settled for a small, grateful smile. “Same here.”

The gondola began its slow descent, the lights growing brighter as they neared the ground. Aeri leaned back, her playful demeanor returning as she said, “See? Survived the heights. Told you it wasn’t so bad.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Fine. You were right. But I’m not admitting it again.”

Aeri laughed, a warm, genuine sound that made Y/N’s chest feel lighter.

As the Ferris wheel came to a stop and they climbed out of the gondola, Y/N found herself wishing the ride had lasted a little longer. There was something about being up there, away from everything, that had felt... special.

“So,” Aeri said as they stepped back into the bustling carnival. “What’s next on the agenda, partner?”

Y/N glanced at her, a newfound sense of ease settling between them. “I guess we’ll just have to see where the night takes us.”

The carnival's game booths were alive with energy, shouts of excitement and groans of defeat blending into a symphony of playful chaos. Brightly colored signs promised impossible prizes—giant teddy bears, oversized giraffes, and a unicorn with glittering wings.

“Alright, we’re doing this,” Aeri declared, marching toward a booth with plastic rings and glass bottles.

Y/N followed, amused. “Do you even know how to play?”

“How hard can it be?” Aeri shot back, flashing a confident grin.

The booth attendant, a wiry man with a mischievous smile, handed Aeri a set of brightly colored rings. “The trick is all in the wrist,” he said, clearly enjoying the challenge in her determined expression.

Aeri squared her shoulders, her tongue peeking out in concentration as she aimed for the neck of a bottle. She tossed the first ring with dramatic flair, only to watch it bounce off the edge and clatter onto the counter.

“First try. Warm-up,” Aeri said quickly, brushing off the miss.

Y/N crossed her arms, suppressing a laugh. “Sure. Go ahead, pro.”

Aeri tossed the next ring, and then the next, each one missing spectacularly. One even managed to ricochet off a bottle and hit the booth attendant, who dodged with practiced ease.

Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing. “Wow. You’re really bad at this.”

“I’m just building suspense,” Aeri replied, grabbing the last ring. “This is the one.”

She focused, her expression so serious that Y/N bit her lip to keep from laughing again. Aeri let the ring fly, and it wobbled through the air in slow motion before landing... nowhere near the bottles.

Aeri threw her hands up. “Rigged. Absolutely rigged.”

The booth attendant chuckled. “Want to try again?”

“Not a chance,” Aeri grumbled, stepping aside.

Y/N nudged her. “Move over, rookie. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Aeri raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re better?”

“Watch and learn,” Y/N said confidently, grabbing a new set of rings.

Her first toss landed perfectly around a bottle neck. The booth attendant clapped, and Y/N grinned, glancing at Aeri. “That’s how you do it.”

“Beginner’s luck,” Aeri muttered, but there was a glint of amusement in her eyes.

Y/N landed another ring, and then another, each one precise and effortless. By the end of her turn, she had scored enough points for the grand prize.

“Alright, pick your prize,” the booth attendant said, gesturing to the wall of stuffed animals.

Y/N scanned the options, her eyes landing on a pastel pink bunny with floppy ears. She pointed at it, and the attendant handed it over with a smile.

Y/N turned to Aeri, holding out the bunny. “Here. A consolation prize for your, uh, impressive effort.”

Aeri stared at the bunny, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “You’re giving me the prize you won? How generous.”

“I thought you could use the comfort after that embarrassing performance,” Y/N teased, her tone light.

Aeri accepted the bunny with exaggerated seriousness, cradling it like a treasured possession. “Thank you, Y/N. I’ll cherish it forever as a reminder of my crushing defeat.”

They both burst out laughing, the playful banter easing into a comfortable rhythm.

“Alright, hotshot,” Aeri said as they wandered away from the booth, the bunny tucked under her arm. “What’s your secret? Are you some kind of carnival game prodigy?”

Y/N shrugged. “What can I say? I have skills.”

Aeri rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “Next game is mine. No way I’m letting you show me up again.”

“Oh, it’s on,” Y/N replied, her competitive streak flaring.

They spent the next hour hopping from booth to booth, challenging each other to every game they could find. Aeri’s luck didn’t improve much, but her commentary made each attempt funnier than the last.

“Did you see that? That dart was rigged,” she declared after missing a balloon for the fourth time.

“Sure it was,” Y/N teased, effortlessly popping three balloons in a row.

By the end of the night, Y/N was the undisputed champion, her arms full of small prizes—keychains, tiny plushies, and a random rubber duck she insisted was a must-have.

As they walked away from the booths, Aeri glanced at Y/N, her smile softening. “You’re really good at this, you know.”

“At carnival games? It’s hardly a life skill,” Y/N joked.

“No, I mean... you’re fun to be around,” Aeri said, her tone sincere. “Even when you’re destroying my ego.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, the playful banter giving way to a moment of quiet connection. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself, loser.”

Aeri chuckled, bumping Y/N’s shoulder lightly. “Just wait. I’ll win the next one.”

“Keep dreaming,” Y/N shot back, her heart feeling lighter than it had all night.

They continued through the carnival, the bunny and rubber duck swinging in their hands, the lights around them glowing brighter than ever.

The flashing lights of the carnival reflected off the surface of a meandering water ride, its log-shaped boats bobbing along a winding track. The distant sound of cheerful screams from the steep drop was enough to make Y/N hesitate as they approached.

“You seriously want to do this?” Y/N asked, eyeing the ride.

Aeri, already marching toward the line, turned back with a mischievous grin. “What’s the matter? Afraid of a little splash?”

“It’s not the splash I’m worried about,” Y/N muttered, following reluctantly.

The line moved quickly, and soon they were climbing into a log-shaped boat. Y/N settled into the front seat, the slightly damp bench hinting at what was to come. Aeri slid in behind her, her knees bumping into Y/N’s back as she adjusted.

“Ready?” Aeri asked, her voice tinged with excitement.

“Not really,” Y/N replied, gripping the sides of the boat as it jolted forward.

The ride started slowly, the boat gliding along a gentle current. Colorful lights from nearby attractions danced on the water, and for a moment, it was almost serene.

“This isn’t so bad,” Y/N admitted, relaxing slightly.

Aeri leaned forward, resting her chin on Y/N’s shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable. The big drop is coming.”

Y/N turned her head, their faces suddenly close. Aeri’s teasing smile was inches away, and Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. Before she could say anything, the boat rounded a corner, revealing the towering incline ahead.

“Oh no,” Y/N whispered, her grip tightening on the boat.

The chain lift clanked loudly as the boat began its ascent, the anticipation building with each jarring lurch upward. Aeri leaned back, clearly enjoying the suspense.

“Still not scared?” Aeri teased.

Y/N glared over her shoulder. “I’m regretting my life choices, if that counts.”

As the boat reached the peak, they had a split second to take in the view—the carnival lights sprawling out below them, the laughter and music blending into a chaotic melody. Then, with a sudden lurch, the boat tipped forward.

Y/N screamed as they plummeted down the drop, the cold spray of water hitting them head-on. Aeri’s laughter echoed behind her, mingling with Y/N’s startled shrieks.

When the boat leveled out, Y/N wiped her face, sputtering. “Oh my God, I’m soaked!”

Aeri, equally drenched, burst into uncontrollable laughter. “You should see your face right now!”

Y/N turned to glare at her but couldn’t hold back her own laughter as she saw Aeri’s hair plastered to her forehead, water dripping from her nose. “You don’t look much better!”

As the boat drifted into the next section of the ride, a smaller splash doused them again. Y/N groaned. “This was a terrible idea.”

“No way,” Aeri said, still laughing. “This is the best idea we’ve had all night.”

The ride continued with more twists and turns, each one sending small waves of water splashing over them. By the time they reached the end, both of them were completely soaked, their clothes clinging uncomfortably to their skin.

They stumbled off the ride, dripping water onto the pavement. Aeri shook her head, sending droplets flying everywhere.

“Hey!” Y/N protested, shielding her face. “You’re making it worse!”

Aeri grinned, unrepentant. “You’re already wet. What’s a little more water?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, wringing out the hem of her shirt. “We should’ve brought a change of clothes.”

“Noted for next time,” Aeri said, her tone casual but her words laced with suggestion.

Y/N’s heart skipped at the implication. She ducked her head, trying to hide her growing smile. “Let’s just find something dry to sit on before I catch hypothermia.”

They wandered toward a nearby bench, the cold night air making them shiver. Aeri plopped down first, pulling her jacket around her shoulders despite it being just as wet as the rest of her.

Y/N hesitated, eyeing the bench. “This is going to make it worse.”

“Suit yourself,” Aeri said, patting the spot beside her. “But if you stand there any longer, you’ll look even more ridiculous.”

With a sigh, Y/N sat down, immediately regretting it as the damp fabric of her jeans pressed against the cold wood.

“See?” Aeri teased. “Not so bad.”

“Speak for yourself,” Y/N grumbled, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up as Aeri pulled out her phone and tried to check her reflection in the screen.

“Do I still look cute, or has this ride ruined my reputation?” Aeri asked dramatically.

Y/N snorted. “You look like a drowned rat.”

“Harsh,” Aeri said, clutching her chest in mock offense. “But fair.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the sounds of the carnival filling the air around them. Despite the cold and the damp clothes, Y/N felt an unexpected warmth, a sense of ease that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Thanks for convincing me to go on that ride,” Y/N said softly.

Aeri looked over, her expression softening. “It was worth it, wasn’t it?”

Y/N met her gaze, the glow of the carnival lights reflecting in Aeri’s eyes. She nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. It was.”

The moment lingered, the noise of the carnival fading into the background. Then Aeri’s stomach growled loudly, breaking the spell.

“Alright,” Aeri said, standing up and stretching. “Let’s find some hot chocolate before we freeze to death.”

Y/N laughed, standing to follow her. “Good idea. And maybe a towel, if we’re lucky.”

As they walked away from the ride, their wet shoes squelching with every step, Y/N couldn’t help but think that, for all the chaos, this was turning into one of the best nights she’d ever had.

The main path of the carnival was a cacophony of colors and sounds, bustling with people moving in every direction. Strings of glowing bulbs crisscrossed overhead, bathing the scene in warm, vibrant light. Laughter and music blended with the occasional excited shrieks from the rides, creating a symphony of joyful chaos.

Y/N tugged at the sleeve of her damp jacket, glancing around in mild frustration. “Okay, we came from that direction, right?” She pointed vaguely toward a food stall selling oversized turkey legs.

Aeri tilted her head, her dark hair still damp from the log flume, and squinted at the path ahead. “Nope. That’s where we went to get cotton candy. You’re officially terrible at this.”

Y/N groaned, throwing her hands up. “Why are carnivals so confusing? It’s like a maze with too many distractions!”

Aeri smirked, shoving her hands into the pockets of her slightly wrinkled bomber jacket. “Maybe the distractions aren’t so bad.”

Y/N turned to her, narrowing her eyes. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.” Aeri’s grin was unapologetic.

The crowd surged around them, groups of friends and families moving toward various attractions, the air thick with the scent of fried food and sugary treats. Y/N tried to focus on finding their way back to the Ferris wheel, where they’d last seen Aeri’s friends, but the sheer volume of people made it impossible to orient herself.

“This is hopeless,” Y/N muttered, coming to a stop near a balloon vendor. “We’ll never find anyone in this crowd.”

“Hopeless?” Aeri leaned against a nearby lamppost, her posture relaxed. “We’ve been lost together all night, and you’re only just realizing that now?”

Y/N shot her a playful glare. “I was holding onto some optimism. Sue me.”

Aeri chuckled and pushed off the lamppost, coming to stand beside Y/N. “Look, worst-case scenario, we wander around until everything closes. Could be worse.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “How is that not a worst-case scenario?”

Aeri gave her a pointed look. “Because we’re lost together. And honestly? I don’t mind that so much.”

The words, delivered with casual sincerity, caught Y/N off guard. She felt a warmth rise to her cheeks, and she quickly turned away, pretending to scan the crowd. “You’re too smooth for your own good, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Aeri shrugged, the corners of her mouth tugging upward. “Now, do we keep wandering aimlessly, or do we make the best of it?”

Y/N sighed, a smile tugging at her own lips despite her best efforts to seem exasperated. “Fine. Let’s make the best of it. But you’re not allowed to mock my terrible sense of direction anymore.”

“No promises,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s shoulder with her own.

They continued walking, weaving through the throngs of people. Aeri led the way this time, though she didn’t seem any more certain of their route than Y/N. Still, there was something oddly comforting about following her, as if Aeri’s confidence made the chaos of the carnival feel less overwhelming.

Every so often, Aeri would point out something interesting—a kid excitedly clutching an enormous stuffed bear, a couple attempting to share an oversized pretzel, or a particularly elaborate face painting stand. Y/N found herself laughing more often than not, the stress of being lost fading into the background.

At one point, they stopped at a small fountain tucked away from the main path. The water glimmered under the carnival lights, and the surrounding benches offered a brief respite from the bustling crowd.

“This is nice,” Y/N admitted, sitting down and stretching her legs.

Aeri sat beside her, leaning back on her hands. “See? Getting lost has its perks.”

Y/N glanced over at her, unable to hide a smile. “You’re really leaning into this whole ‘making the best of it’ thing, huh?”

“It’s kind of my thing,” Aeri said with a wink.

They fell into a comfortable silence, the hum of the carnival serving as their backdrop. Y/N found herself stealing glances at Aeri, taking in the way her eyes sparkled under the lights, her expression relaxed yet alert. It was a stark contrast to the chaos around them, as if Aeri had a way of grounding herself no matter where she was.

“You’re staring,” Aeri said suddenly, not looking away from the fountain.

Y/N startled, her face heating up. “I was not!”

“Were too.” Aeri finally turned to face her, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.

Y/N crossed her arms, trying to regain her composure. “Maybe I was just admiring the fountain.”

“Sure,” Aeri said, clearly unconvinced but willing to let it slide.

The moment hung between them, unspoken but not unnoticed. Y/N felt her heart race, the atmosphere suddenly charged with something she couldn’t quite define.

Before she could dwell on it, Aeri stood and offered a hand. “Come on. We’ve got more aimless wandering to do.”

Y/N hesitated, then took her hand, letting Aeri pull her to her feet. “You’re ridiculously good at this, you know?”

“Good at what?”

“Making being lost feel like an adventure.”

Aeri’s grin widened, her fingers lingering in Y/N’s for a moment longer than necessary. “Guess I’m just full of surprises.”

The carousel glowed like a beacon in the night, its swirling lights painting soft trails of gold, red, and blue across the dark sky. Delicate music floated through the air, blending with the background hum of laughter and chatter. Y/N and Aeri stood at the edge of the ride, observing the spinning horses and ornate chariots.

“I can’t remember the last time I was on a carousel,” Y/N admitted, hands tucked into her jacket pockets.

Aeri tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “What, too grown-up for a bit of whimsy?”

“I didn’t say that!” Y/N defended, though the way she avoided Aeri’s playful gaze said otherwise.

“Sure you didn’t.” Aeri smirked and nodded toward the ticket collector. “Come on, let’s ride it.”

Before Y/N could protest, Aeri was already pulling out two tickets, her confidence leaving no room for debate. Y/N sighed but followed, a small smile creeping onto her face.

The ride operator, a grizzled man with a surprisingly gentle demeanor, gestured for them to choose their seats. Aeri immediately gravitated toward a sleek black horse with a silver mane, while Y/N hesitated before selecting a white horse beside it.

As the ride started, the carousel began its gentle rotation, the horses rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Y/N gripped the pole in front of her, watching the world blur into streaks of color.

“This is actually kind of nice,” Y/N admitted, her voice raised slightly over the tinkling carousel music.

Aeri turned to her, leaning one elbow casually against the pole of her horse. “Told you. Sometimes you just have to let yourself enjoy the little things.”

Y/N glanced at her, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow down. Aeri’s face, illuminated by the carousel lights, was almost mesmerizing. There was something about her relaxed confidence, the way she seemed completely at ease, that made Y/N’s chest tighten.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘making everything fun’ thing,” Y/N said, trying to keep her tone light.

Aeri’s lips curved into a sly smile. “What can I say? I’m good company.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Aeri teased, shifting slightly on her horse so she could face Y/N more directly.

The carousel continued its steady rotation, the music softening slightly as the ride began to reach its midpoint. The atmosphere felt oddly intimate, as if the blur of the carnival outside had faded away, leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

Aeri tilted her head, her gaze steady and curious. “You know, you’re different from what I expected.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “Different how?”

“Just… different.” Aeri shrugged, but her expression was thoughtful. “Most people I meet are either trying too hard or not trying at all. But you? You’re just… you. It’s refreshing.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm, and she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on the carousel’s ornate decorations. “That’s a weird compliment, but I’ll take it.”

“It’s not weird,” Aeri said, her tone softer now. “It’s honest.”

The words hung between them, heavier than Y/N expected. She risked a glance at Aeri, and the look in her eyes made Y/N’s stomach flip. There was something unspoken there, something that made her heart race and her palms sweat.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Y/N asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aeri leaned closer, her smile turning playful but her eyes still serious. “Because I’m wondering when you’re going to admit you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

Y/N’s breath caught, her mind racing for a response. “I—what?”

“You heard me.” Aeri’s smile widened, but there was a tenderness to it now, a vulnerability that Y/N hadn’t seen before. “You’ve been smiling all night, even when we were completely lost. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Y/N opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because Aeri was right—she had been smiling. Despite the chaos, the confusion, and the unexpectedness of it all, she’d been happier tonight than she had in a long time.

“Okay, fine,” Y/N admitted, her voice barely audible over the carousel music. “Maybe I’m enjoying myself. A little.”

Aeri laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The ride began to slow, the horses descending to their starting positions. Y/N felt a pang of disappointment, wishing they had just a little more time.

As the carousel came to a stop, Aeri slid off her horse with an easy grace, extending a hand to help Y/N down. Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking it, her heart skipping a beat at the warmth of Aeri’s touch.

“Thanks,” Y/N said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” Aeri replied, her smile soft but unreadable.

They stepped off the ride together, the vibrant chaos of the carnival rushing back in around them. But for Y/N, it felt like the world had shifted somehow, as if the carousel ride had marked the beginning of something she didn’t quite understand yet.

“So,” Aeri said, her tone lighter now, “what’s next? Another ride? More cotton candy?”

Y/N laughed, her nervousness fading into the background. “How about you let me decide for once?”

“Deal.” Aeri’s grin was teasing but genuine, her eyes sparkling under the carnival lights.

As they walked away from the carousel, Y/N couldn’t help but glance back at it, the lights and music fading into the distance. She didn’t know what was happening between her and Aeri, but for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t afraid to find out.

The grassy hill just outside the carnival buzzed with quiet anticipation, families and couples sprawled on blankets as they waited for the fireworks to begin. Aeri and Y/N found a spot near the edge, slightly away from the crowd. The night air was cool, the faint hum of the carnival rides drifting up the hill along with bursts of laughter and chatter.

“This is a good spot,” Y/N said, plopping onto the grass and leaning back on her hands.

Aeri sat down beside her, crossing her legs and glancing around. “Not bad. Though I’m starting to think you dragged me up here to escape.”

Y/N smirked. “Maybe I did. You’ve been hogging all the decision-making tonight.”

“Only because I’m better at it,” Aeri teased, nudging Y/N’s shoulder playfully.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips. The sky above them was a deep navy, stars faintly visible against the encroaching haze of carnival lights. A cool breeze rustled the grass, carrying the faint scent of popcorn and cotton candy.

“You ever watch fireworks like this before?” Y/N asked, tilting her head back to look at the sky.

Aeri leaned back as well, resting her weight on her hands. “Not in a while. The last time was probably when I was a kid. You?”

“Same.” Y/N’s voice softened. “It was at a fair like this one. My parents took me, and we watched the fireworks from the top of a Ferris wheel. It felt… magical, I guess.”

Aeri turned her head slightly to study Y/N’s profile. “You still believe in magic like that?”

Y/N shrugged, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “I don’t know. I think I want to.”

Before Aeri could reply, a sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by an explosion of light. The first firework bloomed in the sky, a brilliant burst of gold that faded into glittering sparks.

Y/N gasped softly, her eyes widening. “Wow.”

Aeri smiled, her attention split between the fireworks and Y/N’s reaction. “Yeah. Wow.”

The fireworks came in a steady rhythm, painting the sky with vibrant reds, blues, and greens. The hill fell into a hushed awe, save for the occasional murmur of children pointing out their favorite bursts.

Y/N’s gaze flickered to Aeri, who was completely engrossed in the display. The colors reflected in her eyes, and for a moment, Y/N forgot to breathe.

Aeri must have sensed the stare because she turned, catching Y/N mid-thought. “What?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said quickly, heat rushing to her cheeks. She looked back at the sky, silently cursing herself.

Aeri’s lips curved into a small smile, but she didn’t press. Instead, she shifted slightly closer, her shoulder brushing against Y/N’s.

“Can I ask you something?” Aeri’s voice was softer now, almost hesitant.

“Sure,” Y/N said, stealing a glance at her.

“Do you believe in fate?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Fate?”

“Yeah.” Aeri’s gaze dropped to the grass in front of her, her fingers idly plucking at a blade. “Like… things happening for a reason. People meeting because they’re supposed to.”

Y/N considered it, her brow furrowing. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it like that. Why?”

Aeri hesitated, her usual confidence replaced by a rare vulnerability. “I don’t know. Just feels like... tonight, for example. We were both lost, looking for someone, and somehow ended up spending the whole night together.” She glanced up, her eyes searching Y/N’s. “Doesn’t that feel a little... serendipitous?”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to reply, but another firework exploded, casting a brilliant pink hue over the hill.

“I guess it does,” Y/N admitted finally, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fireworks. “But maybe it’s just coincidence.”

Aeri tilted her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s something more.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush again, and she quickly looked away, focusing on the fireworks. But even as she tried to dismiss Aeri’s words, the weight of them lingered.

Another burst of light lit up the sky, and Aeri turned her attention back to the display. “It’s okay if you don’t believe in it,” she said after a moment, her tone light but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. “I just think… sometimes, things happen that we can’t explain. And maybe that’s not a bad thing.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her mind racing. She wanted to brush off Aeri’s words, to chalk it up to the magic of the carnival and the moment. But deep down, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something different about tonight. About Aeri.

As the finale began, the fireworks bursting in rapid succession, Aeri leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m glad I bumped into you tonight, Y/N.”

Y/N turned to her, their faces inches apart. The world seemed to fade away, the vibrant chaos of the fireworks dimming in the background.

“Me too,” Y/N said softly, her chest tightening as she held Aeri’s gaze.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, they both looked back at the sky, the moment suspended between them like a delicate thread.

The fireworks ended in a brilliant crescendo, the hill erupting into applause. But Y/N barely heard it, her thoughts consumed by the woman sitting beside her and the strange, wonderful feeling blooming in her chest.

As the crowd began to disperse, Aeri stood, brushing off her jeans. “Come on. Let’s see what else this carnival has to offer.”

Y/N followed, her heart still racing as she fell into step beside Aeri. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she was supposed to be.

The carnival’s food court was alive with the sounds of sizzling grills, laughter, and the occasional shout from a vendor advertising their fried delights. The air was thick with the smell of roasted corn, sweet churros, and salty pretzels.

Y/N balanced a tray of food in her hands as she weaved through the maze of picnic tables. She spotted Aeri sitting at a corner table, her chin resting on her palm as she lazily scrolled through her phone.

“Alright, feast time,” Y/N declared, setting the tray down with a grin.

Aeri looked up, her face lighting up at the sight of the food. “Finally. I was starting to think you’d gotten lost again.”

“Very funny.” Y/N plopped down across from her, grabbing a churro. “I was just making sure we had enough options. You’re welcome.”

Aeri surveyed the tray: a mountain of nachos, two corn dogs, a funnel cake, and a pile of churros. “Did you order the whole menu?”

“Hey, you don’t survive carnival nights on an empty stomach.” Y/N bit into her churro, powdered sugar dusting her lips. “Besides, it’s all part of the experience.”

Aeri laughed, grabbing a corn dog. “I’m not complaining.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, the hum of the food court and the distant sounds of carnival rides filling the space between them.

“So,” Y/N said, breaking the quiet, “do you go to carnivals often? You seem… oddly at home here.”

Aeri smirked. “What, because I’m good at navigating and making decisions?”

“Because you’re good at being bossy,” Y/N shot back playfully.

Aeri chuckled, twirling her corn dog like a microphone. “Well, if you must know, I actually love carnivals. Always have. My family used to go every summer when I was a kid. It was the one time everyone seemed… happy.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift in Aeri’s tone. “Not a lot of happy times otherwise?”

Aeri shrugged, her eyes dropping to the table. “Not exactly. My parents were always busy, and when they weren’t, they were arguing. But at the carnival, it was different. It was like stepping into another world where nothing else mattered. Just the lights, the rides, the laughter…” She trailed off, her gaze distant.

Y/N leaned forward, her voice soft. “That sounds… bittersweet.”

Aeri nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. But it’s why I still love coming here. It’s like chasing a little piece of that happiness, you know?”

Y/N’s chest tightened. She’d spent most of the night teasing Aeri, but this glimpse of vulnerability caught her off guard. “I get it,” she said quietly. “Sometimes it’s nice to escape for a while.”

Aeri looked up, her eyes meeting Y/N’s. “What about you? What’s your story, carnival expert?”

Y/N hesitated, chewing on her lip. “My family wasn’t really the carnival type. But my friends and I used to come every summer when we were kids. It was kind of our tradition. Now that we’re older, it’s harder to get everyone together. That’s why I was so determined to find them tonight.”

“Yet here you are,” Aeri said, smirking. “Stuck with me instead.”

Y/N laughed. “You’re not the worst company.”

“High praise,” Aeri teased, but her smile softened. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad I bumped into you tonight.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She looked down at her churro, suddenly very interested in the powdered sugar. “Yeah, me too.”

The conversation lulled as they finished their food, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt easy, like they’d known each other for longer than just a few hours.

As Aeri polished off the last of the nachos, she leaned back in her chair, her eyes flicking to Y/N. “You know, this might be the best carnival I’ve been to in years.”

Y/N arched an eyebrow. “Because of the churros?”

Aeri grinned. “Because of you.”

Y/N froze, her cheeks heating up. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, she laughed nervously, reaching for the funnel cake to avoid Aeri’s gaze.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” Aeri said, her tone teasing but her eyes warm.

“I’m not shy,” Y/N muttered, tearing off a piece of funnel cake.

“Sure, you’re not.” Aeri’s smirk widened, and she leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You’re kind of cute when you’re flustered, you know that?”

Y/N nearly choked on her bite of funnel cake, earning a laugh from Aeri. “Stop teasing me!”

“Can’t help it,” Aeri said, her laugh fading into a soft smile. “You’re fun to be around, Y/N.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. “You’re not so bad yourself, Aeri.”

For a moment, they just looked at each other, the noise of the food court fading into the background. Y/N felt a strange mix of nervousness and excitement, like she was standing on the edge of something she couldn’t quite define.

Then, Aeri broke the silence with a grin. “So, what’s next on the carnival adventure?”

Y/N exhaled, grateful for the shift back to lighter territory. “How about we try that ring toss again? I need to redeem myself after you beat me at the dart game.”

“Deal,” Aeri said, standing and grabbing the empty tray. “But don’t cry when I win this time.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her smile as they left the food court.

The haunted house loomed before them, its facade painted with cartoonishly spooky scenes: grinning skeletons, howling ghosts, and jack-o’-lanterns with sinister smirks. The ride’s creaking sound effects played on a loop, interspersed with high-pitched screams that were either part of the attraction or real terror from past riders.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Aeri asked, her tone light but her smirk teasing.

Y/N squared her shoulders, feigning confidence. “Please. A couple of fake cobwebs and rubber spiders? I’ve seen scarier TikToks.”

Aeri laughed, clearly unconvinced. “Alright, fearless leader. Lead the way.”

They handed their tickets to the ride operator, who cackled in an over-the-top witchy voice, ushering them into a narrow corridor lit by flickering bulbs. The door creaked shut behind them, plunging them into dim light and eerie silence.

Y/N took a steadying breath. It’s all fake. Totally fake. No reason to freak out.

But as they stepped further into the ride, the air grew colder, and the sound of distant chains rattling made Y/N’s bravado falter. Aeri walked beside her, her hands in her pockets, looking completely unbothered.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Aeri said, glancing at her.

“I’m taking in the, uh, ambiance,” Y/N replied, her voice higher than she intended.

“Right.” Aeri’s smirk was audible.

Suddenly, a figure lunged out from the shadows—a ghoul with glowing red eyes and tattered clothes. Y/N let out a shriek and instinctively grabbed Aeri’s arm, holding on for dear life.

Aeri burst out laughing. “Ambiance, huh?”

“That was cheap!” Y/N protested, still clinging to her. “It jumped out of nowhere!”

“It’s literally its job,” Aeri teased, prying Y/N’s fingers loose only for Y/N to grab onto her other arm instead.

The path twisted and turned through narrow hallways and fake graveyards. Animatronic zombies groaned and reached out, while eerie whispers played from hidden speakers. Every time something jumped out, Y/N yelped and latched onto Aeri, who seemed to be enjoying herself immensely.

“I thought you weren’t scared,” Aeri said, her voice lilting with amusement.

“I’m not scared,” Y/N insisted, her grip tightening as a skeleton swung down from the ceiling.

“Of course not,” Aeri said, biting back a laugh. “You’re just... testing my reflexes?”

“Exactly,” Y/N said, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

As they turned a corner, the hallway suddenly filled with fog, and a distorted laugh echoed through the space. A dark figure emerged, holding what looked like a chainsaw.

“Okay, nope,” Y/N said, spinning on her heel, but Aeri caught her by the shoulders.

“Relax,” Aeri said, her voice calm but laced with humor. “It’s fake, remember?”

Y/N nodded quickly, trying to calm her racing heart. “Right. Totally fake.”

But when the chainsaw revved, Y/N let out another startled cry and practically jumped into Aeri’s arms.

Aeri couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore. “Oh my god, you’re adorable.”

Y/N, face buried in Aeri’s shoulder, groaned. “Stop laughing! This is terrifying!”

“You’re clinging to me like a koala,” Aeri teased, her arms wrapping loosely around Y/N for balance. “Not that I’m complaining.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to glare at her, though her cheeks were bright red. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I am,” Aeri said, her grin softening into something more affectionate. “But seriously, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Y/N blinked at her, the sincerity in Aeri’s voice momentarily distracting her from the spooky surroundings. “You... do?”

“Of course,” Aeri said, giving her a gentle squeeze before stepping back. “Now, let’s get out of here before you faint.”

They navigated the rest of the haunted house, Y/N sticking close to Aeri despite her earlier bravado. By the time they reached the exit, the fresh night air was a welcome relief.

Y/N let out a deep breath. “I survived. Barely.”

“Barely is right,” Aeri said, holding back another laugh.

“Alright, make fun of me all you want,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “But I don’t see you volunteering to go back in there.”

“That’s because I already proved how brave I am,” Aeri replied smoothly.

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Thanks for... you know, putting up with me in there.”

“Anytime,” Aeri said, her tone light but her eyes warm. “I mean it. I’ve got you.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the words, and for a moment, she thought the haunted house had been worth it after all.

The sound of soft, lively music floated through the night air as they wandered past a section of the carnival that seemed quieter, almost tucked away from the main attractions. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed above a modest wooden dance floor, casting a warm, inviting glow over the scene. A small band played upbeat tunes on a raised platform nearby, their cheerful melodies drawing in couples and groups alike.

Y/N paused, taking in the sight of people swaying and spinning to the rhythm, their laughter mingling with the music. “I didn’t realize there was dancing here,” she said, more to herself than to Aeri.

Aeri, standing beside her, followed Y/N’s gaze, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “You like dancing?”

Y/N shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets. “I mean... I’m not terrible at it. Why?”

Before Y/N could process what was happening, Aeri extended a hand toward her, an unmistakable sparkle in her eyes. “Let’s find out.”

Y/N blinked, glancing from Aeri’s hand to her face. “Oh, no. I don’t—”

“Come on,” Aeri coaxed, taking a small step closer. “You survived a haunted house. What’s a little dancing?”

Y/N hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “You’re really not giving me a choice, are you?”

“Not even a little,” Aeri replied with a grin, reaching out to gently grab Y/N’s hand and tug her toward the dance floor.

The music shifted to a jaunty swing tune, and Aeri’s confidence was almost contagious as she led them into the crowd. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh as Aeri started moving, her steps surprisingly fluid and sure.

“You didn’t tell me you could dance,” Y/N said, trying to keep up.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Aeri replied, spinning Y/N suddenly, eliciting a surprised yelp that turned into laughter.

The playful energy between them mirrored the upbeat tempo of the music. Y/N felt her earlier nervousness fade as they moved together, Aeri’s effortless charm making it impossible not to have fun.

But then the band transitioned into a slower song, and the dancers around them began to pair off, swaying gently to the more romantic rhythm.

Y/N stepped back instinctively. “We should, um, sit this one out—”

Aeri caught her hand before she could retreat, her expression softening. “Stay.”

Y/N looked up at her, the world around them blurring slightly as the moment stretched. “Aeri, I’m not sure I—”

“Just follow my lead,” Aeri said quietly, her tone soothing.

Before Y/N could protest, Aeri slid one hand to her waist and held her other hand firmly but gently, guiding her into the simple, swaying rhythm of the music.

The sounds of the carnival seemed to fade, leaving only the band’s melody and the warmth of Aeri’s presence. Y/N stumbled once, laughing nervously. “Sorry, I’m not—”

“You’re fine,” Aeri interrupted, her voice steady and reassuring.

They moved in small, easy steps, the space between them narrowing as they grew more comfortable. Y/N found herself looking up at Aeri, her heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the dancing.

“You’re good at this,” Y/N said softly, her voice almost lost beneath the music.

“I’ve had practice,” Aeri admitted with a small smile. “But it’s different with you.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly. “Different how?”

Aeri hesitated, her usual confidence faltering for just a moment. “It feels... easier. Like it’s supposed to be this way.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, the sincerity in Aeri’s voice catching her off guard. She didn’t know how to respond, so she focused instead on the feeling of Aeri’s hand on her waist, the warmth radiating between them, and the way Aeri’s eyes seemed to hold hers with unspoken meaning.

The song wound to a gentle close, and for a moment, neither of them moved. The applause from the other dancers barely registered as Aeri stepped back, her hand lingering in Y/N’s.

“See?” Aeri said, her grin returning. “You’re not terrible at dancing.”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension easing as she rolled her eyes. “Thanks, I guess.”

Aeri tilted her head, studying Y/N with an expression that was both playful and serious. “You know, if we don’t find your friends tonight, I wouldn’t mind being stuck with you a little longer.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the casual way Aeri said it, though her cheeks heated at the implication. She couldn’t find the words to respond, so she just nodded, her fingers still loosely entwined with Aeri’s.

The carnival had started to quiet down as the night stretched on, but the lively hum of the attractions persisted, casting a dreamy atmosphere over the dwindling crowd. Aeri and Y/N wandered along the path, their steps naturally falling into sync. The glow of neon lights reflected in their smiles as they stumbled upon a photo booth tucked near the edge of the fairgrounds.

“Oh, we have to do this,” Aeri declared, her eyes lighting up at the sight.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, laughing. “Really? Isn’t that kind of cliché?”

“Exactly,” Aeri replied, grabbing Y/N’s wrist and tugging her toward the booth. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, we need souvenirs to remember this ridiculous night.”

Y/N chuckled, letting herself be pulled along. “Fine, but if the machine eats our money, I’m blaming you.”

The booth was a charming relic of the past, its paint chipped but the flashing “Photos Here!” sign still inviting. Aeri slipped into the cramped space first, patting the spot next to her. “Come on, let’s make it good.”

Y/N hesitated before squeezing into the booth, her shoulder brushing against Aeri’s in the tight space. The proximity made her pulse quicken, but she tried to play it cool.

Aeri leaned forward to inspect the screen. “Okay, we’ve got four shots. Let’s make them count.”

The countdown began, and they jumped into action:

First shot: They made exaggerated peace signs, their faces scrunched into ridiculous expressions.

Second shot: Aeri crossed her eyes, and Y/N stuck her tongue out, both bursting into laughter right as the camera flashed.

Third shot: Aeri pretended to hold a serious pose, but Y/N nudged her at the last second, catching her mid-laugh.

As the fourth countdown began, Aeri’s laughter faded, replaced by an unreadable expression. She turned slightly, her eyes locking onto Y/N’s, the carnival lights outside casting a kaleidoscope of colors across their faces.

“What?” Y/N asked softly, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of carnival noise.

The timer beeped.

And then Aeri leaned in.

Her lips found Y/N’s in a heartbeat, the kiss igniting like a spark against the night’s cool air. It was tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when Y/N didn’t pull away—when Y/N kissed her back—it deepened into something magnetic.

The flash went off, capturing the moment perfectly: two silhouettes lost in each other amidst the chaos of the carnival.

When the camera stopped, they didn’t. The kiss lingered, a tangle of shared breath and unspoken feelings that had been building all night. Y/N’s hand instinctively reached for Aeri’s shoulder, steadying herself as her mind spun.

Finally, they pulled apart, both breathing heavily, their foreheads nearly touching. Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but words felt useless.

Aeri was the first to speak, her lips curling into a smug but tender smile. “So, still think this is cliché?”

Y/N blinked, her cheeks flushed as her lips curved into a small, dazed smile. “No. Not even close.”

The machine whirred, spitting out the photo strip. Aeri grabbed it, glancing at the frames before holding it up with a victorious grin.

“This one’s definitely going on my wall,” she teased, pointing to the last frame of their kiss.

Y/N snatched it from her hand, laughing despite herself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet, you haven’t walked away.” Aeri’s voice softened, her confidence taking on a gentler edge. “You’re not going to, are you?”

Y/N looked at her, at the girl who had turned a lost night into something unforgettable. “Not a chance,” she said, her voice steady but warm.

Aeri grinned, her hand slipping into Y/N’s as they stepped out of the booth, the photo strip tucked safely into Y/N’s pocket.

“Good,” Aeri said, pulling Y/N closer as they wandered back into the carnival.

The carnival lights cast a dreamlike glow over the grounds, their vibrant hues reflecting in the puddles left by an earlier drizzle. The crowd had thinned, leaving behind only the most dedicated visitors. Y/N and Aeri meandered through the maze of closing booths and dimming rides, their search for their friends feeling more like an excuse to linger together than an actual goal.

“They’re probably halfway home by now,” Y/N said with a sigh, though her tone lacked conviction.

“No way,” Aeri replied confidently. “My friends wouldn’t leave without me. They’d want to see how I embarrassed myself first.”

Y/N laughed, brushing her hand through her hair. “What makes you think you embarrassed yourself?”

“Oh, please. I’m soaking wet from the log flume, lost a cotton candy eating contest, and I was thoroughly humiliated at the dart game. I’m a walking disaster tonight.”

Y/N glanced at her, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You were also great company.”

Aeri looked at her, the carnival lights catching in her eyes. “So were you.”

Before Y/N could respond, a shout interrupted the moment.

“Y/N!”

Y/N turned toward the voice, spotting a group of familiar figures running toward them. Minji led the pack, her long coat flapping behind her, followed by Hanni, Danielle, Haerin, and Hyein.

“Oh my god, you’re okay!” Danielle said, relief clear in her voice as she reached Y/N first and wrapped her in a tight hug.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Minji said, her hands on her hips, a mix of worry and exasperation on her face. “What happened?”

Before Y/N could explain, another voice cut through the air.

“Aeri!”

From the opposite direction, Aeri’s friends appeared, making a beeline toward her. Jimin led the charge, followed by Minjeong, who still carried her oversized stuffed bear, and Yizhuo, holding what seemed to be her fifteenth snack of the night.

“There you are,” Jimin said, her tone more teasing than scolding. “We thought you’d gone AWOL.”

“I told you she was fine,” Minjeong said, adjusting the stuffed bear. “She always lands on her feet.”

“Or on someone else’s,” Yizhuo added with a smirk, her gaze flicking to Y/N.

Suddenly, the two groups collided, their respective members eyeing one another with a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Who’s this?” Minji asked, her gaze sharp as she looked Aeri up and down.

“Y/N’s new friend, apparently,” Hanni said, raising an eyebrow.

“And who are they?” Jimin asked, gesturing to Y/N’s friends with a curious tilt of her head.

“They’re my friends,” Y/N said quickly, stepping between the two groups before things could get awkward. “And, uh, this is Aeri. We...kind of got lost together.”

“Lost?” Minji repeated, her eyes narrowing.

“Together?” Minjeong echoed, her smirk growing.

“Don’t look at me like that!” Y/N protested, her cheeks flushing.

“Oh, I’m definitely looking,” Hanni said, folding her arms as she glanced between Y/N and Aeri.

“Relax,” Aeri said, stepping closer to Y/N. “She’s been keeping me company all night. Actually, she’s the only reason I didn’t spend the last five hours wandering in circles.”

“That’s...weirdly sweet,” Haerin muttered, her quiet observation drawing laughter from both groups.

Yizhuo nudged Aeri with her elbow. “What she’s trying to say is she had fun. A lot of fun.”

“I could’ve said that myself,” Aeri muttered, shooting Yizhuo a glare.

“Oh, you totally could’ve,” Yizhuo replied innocently, “but we’d still be waiting.”

Hyein looked at Y/N with a mischievous grin. “So, Y/N, is this carnival your new favorite place now?”

Y/N groaned. “Not you too!”

The teasing continued, laughter and banter flying between both groups. Despite the chaos, there was an undeniable warmth in the air, a sense of shared understanding that left Y/N feeling unexpectedly grateful for the interruption.

Eventually, Jimin clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention. “Alright, it’s late, and I, for one, am ready to go home. But before we do...” She turned to Y/N, a knowing glint in her eye. “You’re welcome to join us next time.”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the invitation. “Next time?”

Aeri smirked, her confidence returning in full force. “Of course. Same time, same place, next weekend?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment before nodding, her smile growing. “Next weekend.”

As their friends began to scatter, Aeri leaned in close, her voice dropping so only Y/N could hear. “I meant what I said earlier. You made this night a lot better.”

Y/N’s heart raced, but she managed to reply, “So did you.”

Aeri pulled back, her smirk softening into something more genuine. “Good. Then it’s a date.”