#Cosmetic Display Design

[muktepavel]

XLASH cosmetics POSM

[neopianbiologyproject]

Transparent Pets and the Transparent Chia

for background, Transparent is a cosmetic option one can change their Neopet to. for the mostly mammalian cast of Neopets, this typically shows the internal anatomy of the Neopet as if their skin and cartilage were transparent, displaying their skeleton and visible internal organs.

there are some notable examples among them: the Transparent Lenny has bones in its primary feathers, explaining their hand-like dexterity with those feathers! (other bird Neopets, like the Pteri, do not have these bones).

there's also the Grundo's alien organs, and the Ruki, which is an insect and thus has an exoskeleton, has a much different internal structure from its mammal counterparts

there's a lot we could get into here with the perceived anatomical correctness of these designs; the number of bones and placement or lack of certain organs is definitely not one would expect in a detailed anatomical diagram. but none of that is really important beyond what these designs signify about the species classification-wise, and the one new major outlier: the Transparent Chia

the Transparent Chia is unlike all other Neopets who have received Transparent designs. it is green; it does not have bones; it has unique organs; it resembles a plant cell.

below is my attempt to label the Transparent Chia as if it were a textbook diagram of a plant cell. I'm only an amateur biologist, so I discussed with some friends, including professional biologist @stackedcrates who taught me a lot!

(footnotes are below)

1 - Root Hairs: As I've been told it, root hairs would typically 1) comprise the full green shape of the hair and not just the pink inside, and 2) a cell with root hairs would not have chloroplasts. So if we accept the hair as root hairs, this is either a "novel evolutionary adaptation" or possibly the Chia is comprised of two to four large cells and potentially a colonial organism, which I find exciting.

2 - Vesicles, Peroxisomes, Lysosomes: It's impossible to actually distinguish these things from each other so I labelled them half based on evidence and half arbitrarily. Lysosomes are typically larger than peroxisomes, but both could also be most any other 'some. (Vesicles are not 'somes but they look similar in this type of diagram).

3 - The Endoplasmic Reticulum & Large Central Vacuole: In normal cells, the endoplasmic reticulum would touch the nucleus, so this ER is in a very unusual if not impossible spot. We floated the possibilities that we were wrong about the nucleus, the nucleus was actually what we'd labelled as the LCV, and even that our ER was just the rough ER and the yellow noodles (now labelled "Cytoskeletal Structures") were a very unusual smooth ER. But it seems overly likely that we're correct about the LCV and the nucleus, so I preferred this admittedly unsatisfying option compared to the rest.

4 - Chloroplasts and Mitochondria: You might notice that the chloroplasts as labelled have two different designs: one is striped while the other is simply green. The committee found the two similar enough to group them together, and I'm told it's common for the chloroplast to be depicted either way (I found more than one diagram that this art seems to be cribbing colors and design choices from). As for the mitochondria, it's possible that we have the chloroplasts and mitochondria swapped, and it's just as possible possible one of the three labelled is some other plastid that we didn't consider.

5 - Cytoskeletal Structures: We have no idea what these are. They're not really the right shape to be skeletal structures. Oh well!

6 - Amyloplast: @stackedcrates suggested this was an amyloplast, for storing starch, but that it could be another kind of plastid.

this attempt has many issues, but the real purpose of it is to prove that the Chia very closely resembles a plant cell, rather than correctly identify each part. @stackedcrates also emphasized that biology is full of exceptions, and with the Chia necessarily representing an unusual example, it doesn't behoove us to be beholden to statistical typicality. a few mistakes or professional disagreements are okay! in the end, it matters more that the parts are roughly represented.

I think we did well!

What does this mean for the project?

we'll be hereforth categorizing the Chia as among Plantae rather than Animalia. there was evidence for this before as the Chia is the only Neopet to have the unique Magical Chia Pop colors. the Maraquan Chia is also an anenome, which is an animal, but definitely the most plant-like of the aquatic animals.

maybe one could argue the Chia is a fungus, or even an animal-plant hybrid! where does that go in our taxonomy? I don't know! but science is exciting, isn't it?

[aholefilledwithtwigs]

That Foone post has me thinking about signifiers of age in robots. There could be obvious things like overall size and design, but at a certain point a general design language will be established (like how laptops converged to a general clamshell design)

The condition of a chassis wouldn’t be reliable— easy to swap and upgrade. Plus, there would probably be a whole market for vintage and beat to hell body panels to give themselves a rugged look (the ripped denim of robots would be scuffed paint)

The easy tell would be the ports

What ports someone did or didn’t have would be a clear sign of when they were originally built. There would likely be some level of taboo around your ports being visible.

Displaying your ports freely would be for the young. Flaunting the latest connection protocols. LED rings lighting up around a socket

So upgrading your ports would be like getting cosmetic surgery. Have solid build of a good old model A10 with the ports of the latest Z-5 line

Hiding that they still have an RS-232. Having literal compatibility issues.

The ultimate intimacy of letting someone look inside the chassis and see how old you really are and exactly how you were created

[konansock]

Mod Update: Club & Business Activity Expanded - MORE Business update!

Happy Simming, Simmers! After Business and Hobbies released, I tested my mod in the new system and found more opportuny, as well as bugs to be fixed! So here's a major update to the mod.

Bug Fixes:

Various Text and Images were missing from the first version, they're fixed in this new and improved update.

Tend Stall now officially works as intended.

WooHoo Business:

Apparently this is one of the most anticipated feature of WooHoo Addon, but it wasn't working before, now it is.

The present activity WooHoo will still work with restrictions, for Simmers who just want customers to be intimate with their partners and sleep at a hotel.

New activity has been added: WooHoo with Small Business Employees (for customers) and WooHoo with Customers (for employees). You need to pair them up so customers have employees to ask for WooHoo. Don worry, they won't ask for WooHoo from random janitors who was only assigned the task 'Clean'!

They're now fully autonomous, and your small business even earns money from it! Charisma, Fitness and Romance skills affect the payout.

As customers, you can expect to check in your favorite small business for a casual WooHoo, too!

Photo Studio:

I always wanted a way for my Sims to pay some Simoleons and take their photos. You can sort of simulate it with the updated Photography activity.

Employees will Tend Tripod along with Photo Studios now, and taking pictures for customers with tripods now earns them Simoleons. It just does not display on the text. Photography skill and Fine Arts Degree affect the final payout.

As a customer, you can see the employees Tend Tripod. They're just cosmetics and don't actually matter. You just strike a pose with your Pose Player and select Ask for Photoshoot either from a Tripod or the Ticket Kiosk. Selecting the photographer affects your payout.

Self service as a customer now also cost you Simoleons.

Fashion Studio:

The Make-Up Chair and Wardrobe Pedestal is probably the ACTUAL most asked feature in this update. It's HERE!

Your can assign employees the task Tend Make-Up Chair and Tend Wardrobe Pedestal. This is necessary for customers to find a hairdresser/cloth designer.

For NPC Customers, once you choose the activity Be Styled or Be Outfitted, you can just let the Make-Up studio or Clothing studio work in the background, and you'll earn money from it. Fame and Fine Arts Degree affect the final payout.

However, manually Offer Make-Up/Hairstyle/Outfit will earn your Sims more Simoleons. Manually Offer to Update Appearance on Wardrobe Pedestal also earns your Sim money.

If you want to also earn money from Offer to Update Appearance interaction on Make-Up Chair, use this mod by LittleMsSam.

As a customer, you can choose any interaction on the Make-Up Chair and Wardrobe Pedestal, and you'll be styled/outfitted for a fee! Note that only Ask to Update Appearance lead your Sims to CAS and allow you to customize, the other interactions are random.

Tarot Reading:

Life and Death allowed us to open a Tarot business, but not as a customer? This is fixed in the mod.

Front Desk Assistant:

This is so random but some kind Simmer asked for this feature. Requires Get to Work though. While the Front Desk is tended, customers will be automatically welcomed, helping you a tiny bit in customer rating.

Grocery Shopping:

The Get to Work Lice Freezer now works with Small Business! Stock up with snacks, fizzy juice, harvestables and farm products, and watch your business grow into local Sims-mart!

Works with Brazenlouts' Produce stand, too!

As a customer, you can also purchase ingredients stored in the retail fridge.

Occult Training:

Occult Training now earns you money based on your rank and length of mentorship.

Note that Occult Training is very strict on customers, so this might not be a good idea for long-term business.

DOWNLOAD HERE

[maeby-cursed]

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who waits for you in the parking lot after class. clad in a black hoodie covered in bleached designs, and baggy jeans, he looks like something straight out of your dirtiest fantasies.

he smiles when he sees you, the dimples he got from his cheek piercings in full display. he looks sweet as a peach pie like this — a feature that seems out of place coming from the wild-haired, smoky-eyed boy —, but you know that nobody else gets to see him the way you do.

that makes you smile.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who teaches you how to ride a skateboard. he sits you down on the deck and positions himself behind you, keeping your legs between his. you both propel yourselves with a couple of kicks to the ground and speed down the ramp of the park.

his friends laugh at the sight of you shrieking with delight, and he smiles, pushing your hair to the side so he can see your eyes, brimming with adrenaline and a danger that begins to taste like him.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who is there for every single one of your firsts and kind of regrets not being able to experience his own with you. he holds your hair during your first hangover, doesn’t laugh when you cough after your very first drag of a cigarette, and sleeps under your lilac covers after you’ve spent your first night with him.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who drops out of school because he finds it tedious, who is kicked out of his parents' house. who now lives with his best friend satoru, and is studying cosmetics at a course.

you've seen his sketchbooks, his delicate and intricate designs. you've seen how he braids some of his hair when he's tense and how he applies red shadows with care whenever you two go out on a date. you’ve seen how much talent he has. 

he dreams of being a tattoo artist and you’re sure he will be.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who is reluctant to tattoo you. he's been doing this for two years now; he's done full backs, arms and legs. he's even done piercings; eyebrows, nipples, bellybuttons. 

but your skin is different. your body contains your person and he doesn't feel quite ready to mark it.

yet he's never been good at saying no to you so he ends up giving in.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who, at twenty, spends his evenings in your shitty apartment contemplating the little heart he carved into your hip and kissing it.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who helps you with your studies, who's not quite a teenager anymore but who still takes you to the park from time to time, to watch that shine in your eyes come to life when you ride his skateboard again – just like it did that first time.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who never gives up his black eye shadow even if the years go by, who keeps a little bit of his old self in his combat boots, in his chipped nail polish.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who at twenty-six adopts two girls whose parents also threw them out, who works double shifts every day until he’s twenty-nine and is able to open his own tattoo shop, who keeps on working so they can get the lives he believes they deserve.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who still listens to his favorite songs. ‘one of us’ and ‘american idiot’ and ‘teenagers’; who dances with you and your little girls to all of them.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who, although his exterior never truly softens, has always been full of kindness and clouds.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who deep down knows that a part of him will be eternally misunderstood by everyone else, yet who recognizes something in your eyes; something that assures him that in this house – this house he’s built with love and devotion to his true self – everyone else does understand him. and know him.

and love him still.

[lil--ichigo]

"But it's impractical!" Aka, Why I hate most fem fortress designs

A lot of the time, I'm sure many have come across comments like this:

"Fem fortress but they all look the same, just with boobs"

"Fem scout would never wear a skirt! It's impractical!"

To be honest, I think these kinds of comments come off as mysogynistic, because it is still policing what women wear. The tf2 mercs can wear silly cosmetics, many of which are even less practical, but when femscout wears a skirt or fem engie has a beehive and makeup, it's considered impractical because woman. I feel like the tf2 fandom has a problem with a lot of fem merc designs that arent masc. In general, masculinity is praised in society while feminity is disliked. Its why conservatives throw a hissy fit when a man wears a dress. This most likely comes from the idea that any display of feminity is seen as weak. Fem engineer builds stuff and does masc things, so she has to be a masc woman by default. If any of the fem mercs dress feminine, it obviously for the male gaze. While this seems like it is breaking gender roles, its still perpetuating stereotypes - that feminine people cant do things like shoot guns or throw piss at people or build machines.

There is a difference, though. The fempyro mod and femscout mods are examples of a character designed for the male gaze, as I believe the mods were made by men, are mostly used by men, and are in a game that is mostly played by men. They don't take into account what women wore during tf2s time, instead just slap a bow onto scouts hat or put pyro into some catsuit despite pyros gender being a mystery. But dressing feminine doesnt always mean its for the male gaze. Many women dress feminine for themselves. A lot of the tf2 fem concept art is an example of how you can make feminine women while still keeping them unique and not male gaze-y

Another complaint I have is many fem fortress designs look so modernized. For example, the fanon femscout design looks like someone you'd see jogging at the gym in 2025, not like a sporty girl from 1968.

Back then, ponytails were more formal I think. Ive seen ponytails in makeup ads and things from the time but not in sports photos. So fem scout would most likely have short, bobbed hair. It just annoys me to hell and back when I see people reject research and creativity just to use the same cookie cutter fem scout design because shes "hot."

Of course, I have no problem with fem fortress designs that are masc! My fem sniper is a butch. But remember, masc women didn't dress the same way they do in 2020! Even women wearing pants outside of manual labor jobs at the time was considered very masculine. The 60s spy theme is what makes tf2 stand out and the fanon fem fortress dont have the same charm.

Tldr; Fem mercs can wear a skirt, saying they can't is still policing what women wear. Hyper feminine and hyper masculine women are both looked down upon. Also fem fortress artists should have more fun with the time period.

If you want more info about how society demonzies both hyper femme and hyper masc women, I reccommend this video https://youtu.be/qGx0zh2QsPI?si=Pyl9ThTdv9JAF3Ql

Examining the difference of the male gaze vs dressing for yourself

https://youtu.be/1MTtYyZ1zd8?si=JOyASmtMsp_O8XWO

[choikanghuening]

Beyond the Doors (or simply “Stay”)

now playing: Stay - Rihanna ft. Mikky Ekko

synopsis: Beomgyu, a charming idol, and you, a confident and independent woman with a mysterious allure, are completely different. As your paths cross, your connection clicks and deepens in unexpected ways, despite the challenges and risks that come with it. Navigating a world where appearances matter, you find yourselves questioning what you’re willing to sacrifice for something real.

pairing: idol!beomgyu x afab!reader

trope: forbidden/secret lovers to exes to lovers (what can i say...)

genre: angst, smut (mdni)

wc: 14.9k (i got carried away)

warnings: tw: major character accident, not proofread, feat. the rest of txt, the name Minji is used here, lots of drama, lots of flashbacks (alternating with present), alcohol consumption (just a glass of wine), fingering (f receiving), protected sex (yay), Imk if i forgot anything (i prob did)

elle speaks: you ask and you shall receive. this is the second part of Hidden Doors (or simply Hotel/Mil Veces).

elle speaks²: english is not my first language, so sorry for any typos and mistakes. also im too distracted, so i probably repeated lots of words. i'll correct it later. feedbacks/reblogs/likes are appreciated.

elle speaks³: it's a long one bc I tried to answer some of your questions and develop their relationship. i don't think you necessarily need to read the first part, but it would mean the world to me if you did 🥺 👉🏻👈🏻

fic below the cut

Present

The studio is buzzing with the kind of electric energy that comes with high-profile luxury brand photo sessions. Photographers are shouting commands while light meters are changed, hairstylists are adding finishing touches, and assistants are juggling clothing racks. The space is bustling with activity. You are at the center of it all, holding a clipboard and speaking steadily in the middle of the commotion.

You have established yourself as a highly sought-after fashion industry producer by organizing extensive photo shoots for some of the most well-known luxury brands. After being given the amazing chance to work with one of Korea's most prominent fashion publications, you relocated to the country in your mid-twenties, having previously lived abroad. After three years, you've made your mark in this fast-paced environment despite the flurry of adjustment and hard work.

You are well-known for your exacting diligence and your capacity to remain composed and confident in the face of the most challenging circumstances. You live by yourself in Seoul, juggling the demands of living so far away from home with the highs of your career achievements. Although it's a difficult profession, you enjoy the challenge and constantly plan ahead to make sure everything goes smoothly.

“Minji, check the accessory tray for Look Three one more time. The gold cuff and the sunglasses are non-negotiable. Lee, we're going to fall behind if the lighting shift isn't finished in two minutes,” you remark calmly and crisply into your headset.

Authority emanates from your presence. These intricate productions are orchestrated by you as a producer, much like a maestro leads an orchestra.

A junior assistant flies by with a look of panic on her face. “YN! The strap broke on the gown for the next setup!” You instantly reach out a hand.

“Give it to me.” The strap hangs uselessly as the assistant hands over the fragile fabric.

You grab a needle and thread from an emergency bag and squat at a neighboring desk. Your hands have years of practice and move with accuracy.

With anxiety, the assistant hovers. “Will it hold? The designer will—

You politely interrupted her. “It will hold. Calm down.” As you complete the repair, your attention remains fixed.

You give it back, your eyes steady. “Take it to the cosmetics department. We are now back on track.”

The assistant nods, her face displaying awe. “You're fantastic, YN.”

As the gown enters the model's body, the photographer looks over. Astounded, he asks, “You fixed that?”

“Part of the job.” You shrug.

He chuckles. “You might want to start your own crisis management company if you ever get bored here.”

Although you smirk slightly, you don't answer and go straight on to the next task. You must ensure that the shoot ends on schedule; any delays are unacceptable.

Catching your attention, your phone beeps. A notification flashes on the screen: New message from Beomgyu.

“Same time tonight?”

You smile, remembering the first time you met as if it were yesterday. You weren’t starstruck, but there was definitely something magnetic about him.

Flashback

The crew was fighting to hold things together on a chaotic set, and it had been one of those crazy productions where everything seemed to happen at once.

When Beomgyu arrived at the stage, you were fixing an unforeseen lighting issue. He moved with effortless elegance, but there was a hint of hesitancy in his manner, as if he wasn't totally at ease with all the attention he was receiving. His dark hair framed his face with ease, and his keen features might have captivated anyone, but you had been drawn to his quiet shyness.

Another delay had been brought on by a wardrobe problem in the middle of the well-organized mayhem. You immediately stepped in when the stylist lost a tie, as you always do.

“Here,” you had said in a steady but gentle voice, holding the tie out to him with a no-nonsense calm.

Beomgyu blinked, taken aback for a moment by your bluntness. As he took it, his fingers touched yours. With his voice hardly audible above a whisper, he had murmured, “Uh, thanks.”

You gave him a modest but sincere grin and said, “You're welcome,” before turning to leave.

Present

As you finish up the last elements of the day's shoot, you settle at your desk and listen to the constant hum of the office. The never-ending stream of tasks weighs heavily on your mind, but for a split second, your focus is diverted by your phone's buzzing, which briefly interrupts the continuous flow of your thoughts.

It's a photographer's text, but then you see Beomgyu's, which is now hours old. A tiny smile forms on your lips, which you promptly conceal behind a business mask. Naturally, you've already seen it, but you neglected to respond.

Beomgyu differs from the other people you work with. Most idols never stop performing and contributing to the spectacular show. However, he always has a certain silence and a certain timidity about him, regardless of how much attention he receives. You don't often see it, especially in the world you live in every day. And it's… revitalizing.

“Yes, I can’t wait.” With a swift reply and a straightforward affirmation, you put your phone back in your bag and resume the stack of work that awaits you.

Flashback

As the photo session went on, Beomgyu's eyes kept coming to you. You were aware of it, yet you continued to study your clipboard and the task at hand.

Despite the commotion of the team, he still stood there looking a little uncomfortable, as though he were waiting for something.

You were navigating the set when he came up, hesitant but resolute.

“You're really good at this,” he murmured softly, surprising you with the compliment. Your face softened as you looked up.

“I try my best,” you replied, offering him a friendly smile and a trace of experience in your voice—something that came from years of managing chaos like this. It was clear—this wasn’t your first shoot.

Just as you started walking away, he spoke again, the words almost spilling out before he could stop them. “So, where are you from?”

You paused, surprised by the question, but there was a moment of hesitation before you answered with a casual smile, “I’m from overseas. I came to Korea for an opportunity, and… long story short, here I am.”

Beomgyu tilted his head slightly; his curiosity piqued. “That’s very… bold,” he said, his voice thoughtful but gentle.

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, really?”

He shifted uncomfortably, as if he realized he might’ve said something too forward. “I meant it in a good way,” he added quickly.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly; the sound was light and genuine. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The conversation was short, but the air between you was thick with something unspoken. Beomgyu watched you for a moment longer, the curiosity in his eyes still lingering, as if he hadn’t quite figured you out yet.

Present

As the activities of the day wrap up hours later, you step outside, and the cool evening air greets you, brushing your skin and easing the tension of the day. The streets of Seoul hum with life, neon lights flickering in the dark as the city’s energy pulses around you. For a moment, you just stand there, inhaling deeply, feeling the heartbeat of the city sync with your own.

Your thoughts go to Beomgyu again. When you first met, he seemed so out of place, like a deer caught in headlights—unsure, polite, and navigating the chaos with a quiet grace. There had been something about him that made you linger a little longer than you should have.

And now, months into this affair, he’s a completely different person—mature, confident, and undeniably captivating. The boy who once seemed so awkward and uncertain has become a man who commands a room with just a glance. You’ve seen sides of him you hadn’t expected—sensual, caring, thoughtful. Every moment with him leaves you wanting more, even if he’s unsure all the time. Not that you cared. You just want him.

Flashback

During a break, you found yourself observing him more intently. Beomgyu’s every movement was deliberate, his demeanor polite and unassuming. Yet there was an undeniable charisma in his presence. He had a way of filling the room with an energy that didn’t demand attention but still managed to capture it.

After changing for the next round of the shooting, Beomgyu approached you, his steps measured. “Thanks for the tie earlier,” he said, his voice soft and sincere.

You glanced at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. His reserved nature stood out, and there was something disarming about it. “Don’t mention it.”

He smiled in return, the warmth in his expression lighting up his eyes even in the dim afterglow of the set. “I mean it. You are helping me more than you realize.”

You tilted your head slightly, intrigued despite yourself, though you quickly masked it. “Helping you? How?”

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, a slight shift in his posture as he searched for the right words. “It’s just… with everything, you know?” He gestured vaguely to the crew packing up around them. “I don’t know how to explain; it gets overwhelming. But today, things are organized… you make it seem so easy.”

You studied him for a moment, something in his eyes catching you off guard. You quickly composed yourself, professional as ever. “I’ve been doing this for a while,” you said, your voice steady. “But trust me, it’s never easy.”

He nodded thoughtfully, with a quiet gratitude in his gaze. “Maybe that’s exactly what makes you so good at it.”

You chuckled softly; his sincerity took you by surprise, and for a moment, you wondered what it would be like to let your guard down with him. But you pushed the thought aside, focusing instead on the role you had to play. “Well, we all have our strengths,” you said, offering him a nod. Your eyes met his for just a fraction longer than usual before you turned back to your work.

As you continued with your tasks, your thoughts kept drifting back to him—his quiet observation, his soft words, the way he seemed to make the chaos around you feel just a little more… still.

Present

As you enter your apartment, the day's exhaustion settles heavily, but your thoughts remain fixed on Beomgyu. You don't even bother turning on the lights, letting the dimness match the hum of your restless mind. Heading straight to the bathroom, the cool air brushes against your skin, grounding you momentarily.

The sound of water fills the silence as you step into the shower, the heat easing the tension from the day. Steam rises around you, droplets tracing paths down your skin as your thoughts return to moments spent with him.

Afterward, you towel off, the chill air raising goosebumps. You pause, considering what to wear tonight. A sense of determination rises as you settle on a deep red dress—sleek and form-fitting, with a daring neckline balanced by its sophisticated cut. It exudes confidence, commanding attention without trying too hard.

At your vanity, you apply makeup with precision: a flick of eyeliner to define your eyes and a soft nude lip, keeping your look understated yet striking. A spritz of your favorite perfume leaves a warm, subtle trace in the air as you smooth your hair, ensuring it falls perfectly. The clock catches your eye—it's time. Wrapping yourself in a white overcoat, you grab your car keys and step into the night.

Your phone buzzes; a message from Beomgyu lights up the screen:

“Are you on your way?”

A small smile forms as you type a quick reply:

“Yeah. See you soon.”

Driving through the city, you feel the familiar rhythm of these evenings. For Beomgyu, they’re an escape from the pressures of fame; for you, a break from your own demands. There’s an unspoken understanding between you—no strings, just moments stolen from the chaos of your lives.

Pulling into the hotel parking lot, you step out into the crisp night air. Your heels echo against the pavement as you approach the warmly lit lobby. Everything about this is routine now: the elevator ride, the quiet hum as you ascend, the anticipation sharpening with each step toward the suite.

At the door, you pause, the weight of expectation briefly stirring something deeper, then push it aside. You unlock the door and step inside, where the rest of the world falls away. Here it’s just the two of you, free from the complications of everything left behind.

Flashback

Later, as the shoot ended, Beomgyu lingered near the exit, his gaze following you as you gathered your things. You caught his eye and raised an eyebrow, sensing his hesitation.

“Something you need?” You asked, your tone calm yet still sharp, a subtle challenge in your voice.

He hesitated, a bit unsure, before finally speaking. “I just wanted to thank you again,” he said, his voice sincere, his posture slightly awkward as he scratched the back of his neck. “You made everything seem so effortless today.”

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “You really don’t have to thank me so much. It’s my job.”

Beomgyu smiled in return, but there was something more behind it. He paused before reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small paper bag.

“Here,” he said softly, his voice almost shy, as he handed it to you.

You raised an eyebrow in surprise. “What’s this?”

“It’s just a little something,” he replied, glancing away briefly before meeting your eyes again. “A treat from a café down the street. Thought you might like it.”

You took the bag, intrigued. Inside, you found two beautifully packaged pastries, still warm. The rich aroma wafted up, tempting your senses. You couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as you glanced at him. “I didn’t take you for the type to bring food gifts.”

Beomgyu chuckled sheepishly. “I’m not, usually. But you looked like you might be hungry.”

You studied him for a moment, your gaze softening. There was no pretense behind his gesture—just a genuine, simple thought. It felt real. “Thanks. I truly am,” you said, your voice quieter than before, as your eyes lingered on him for a beat longer than necessary.

Beomgyu smiled, the warmth in his eyes deepening. He stood there for a moment, unsure of how to respond. “I felt really at ease today… and that’s thanks to you,” he said, his voice almost unsteady.

You smiled back, a knowing grin tugging at your lips. “That’s what I’m here for,” you replied, your tone playful yet matter-of-fact.

Beomgyu chuckled, the last of his nervousness fading. “Seriously, though, you’re really good at this.”

You crossed your arms, a slight smirk on your face. “It’s not that I’m really good; it’s that most people aren’t,” you said, looking at him as if he should already know that by now. “You’ve done tons of shoots. You should’ve figured that out already.”

He laughed softly, his posture relaxing, feeling more at ease now that the shoot was over. “Yeah, I guess I have,” he said, with a smile that was both genuine and a little shy.

As you turned to leave, you heard him call out your name. “YN, right?”

You stopped and glanced back, an eyebrow raised. “Yeah. Why?”

He took a breath, his voice steady despite the slight smile still on his lips. “I just… I’ll remember it,” he said, his gaze lingering on you a little longer than necessary.

Your smile deepened, though you kept your expression neutral, a playful glint in your eye. “You better,” you replied, before walking away. The sound of his soft laugh lingered in the air, a quiet moment between you as you disappeared from the set.

Present

The hotel room feels too quiet; the familiar luxury is now heavy with something else. Beomgyu stands by the window, gazing out at the city's endless glow. His breath fogs the glass as he leans against it, running a hand through his blonde hair. The soft hum of the heater in the background only amplifies the buzz of his thoughts. He checks the clock again—still early.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand. His heart stutters when he sees your name.

“Just parked. Be there in two.”

Beomgyu lets out a slow exhalation, his thumb hovering over the screen. He sets the phone down without replying. The room suddenly feels smaller, as if your presence is already here, pressing in on him. Why does it feel different tonight? Anticipation? Unease? It’s not the first time you've met like this, but something about tonight feels heavier.

The soft sound of the door opening breaks through his spiral. He freezes, his pulse racing as he moves to answer it.

You enter the room, shutting the door. Your overcoat goes to the hanger, and he notices the way your red dress hugs your frame. You’re not smiling, but there’s that quiet confidence in your expression that always unsettles him.

“You’re early,” you say. Your perfume lingers in the air, intoxicating and sharp, filling the space between you both.

“I didn’t want to keep you waiting,” he replies, his voice low and strained.

Your lips quirk into a faint smirk as you set your bag on the armchair, glancing at him over your shoulder. “You look tense.”

“I’m fine,” he says too quickly, his hands twitching at his sides.

You turn fully to face him, your eyes scanning him with that knowing look that makes his chest tighten. You step closer, your heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Every step you take is deliberate, sending a current of electricity through the space between you.

“Liar,” you say, your voice soft but firm.

Beomgyu clenches his jaw, glancing away, as if that will hide him from you. But you won’t let him. You never do.

“Something on your mind?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, your voice taking on a teasing edge as you close the distance.

He hesitates, his mind racing for a response that won’t betray him. “It’s been a long day,” he says finally, but even he doesn’t believe it.

You laugh softly, low, and throaty. The sound wraps around him, pulling him deeper. “I’m not here to interrogate you, you know.” You reach out, your fingers grazing his arm in a fleeting touch that burns more than it soothes.

“I know,” he mutters, his eyes flicking to yours.

Your gaze lingers, sharp and probing, before you give a small shrug and turn away, heading toward the minibar. Beomgyu lets out a breath, a momentary reprieve, but it doesn’t last long.

“So,” you say casually, pouring yourself a glass of wine, as if you were old friends catching up. “What now?”

Beomgyu hesitates, the question hitting harder than it should. He doesn’t have an answer. His stomach churns as he watches you, so composed, so unaffected.

“I don’t know,” he admits finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

You glance back at him, your expression unreadable. Then, setting the glass down, you step closer again, closing the gap until you’re just inches away. Your fingers lightly brush against the fabric of his shirt, sending a jolt through him.

“Don’t think so much,” you murmur, your breath warm against his neck.

Beomgyu’s breath hitches as you lean in, your lips brushing his in a kiss that starts soft, testing. His hands hover at your waist, unsure whether to hold you or maintain the distance he’s promised himself. But the pull of you, the feeling of you, is impossible to resist. And the tone of your dress only sparks a memory he really doesn’t need to remember right now.

Flashback

The lively hum of conversation and laughter filled the magazine's gleaming lobby, the celebration in full swing. Glasses of champagne caught the light as they clinked together, a subtle symphony beneath the energetic beat of the music. The walls were lined with glossy spreads displaying the magazine’s highlights, including the striking cover featuring Beomgyu himself. It was supposed to be his night—a chance to revel in the success of the shoot and bask in the admiration of his peers. Yet his mind wandered far from the festivities.

At a sleek black table near the center of the room, Beomgyu’s friends—Soobin, Yeonjun, Huening Kai, and Taehyun—were mid-conversation, their laughter rising above the crowd.

“Man, you killed it in that shoot,” Yeonjun said, raising his glass with a smirk. “Everyone’s calling it the ‘Rebel Beomgyu Era.’ Iconic, really.”

Beomgyu’s lips tugged into a faint smile, but the usual spark wasn’t there. His eyes darted around the room, scanning for her in the sea of faces.

“Beomgyu, you good?” Soobin asked, noticing the detachment.

“Huh? Yeah,” Beomgyu said, his response automatic. He took a sip of his drink, hoping to ground himself, but his gaze betrayed him, flickering toward the far side of the room.

There you were.

You stood near a cluster of staff, chatting. Your scarlet dress seemed to draw the glow of the room toward you, like you were the center of its orbit. Beomgyu couldn’t look away. Your confidence wasn’t just visible—it was palpable. You moved with a grace that felt untouchable, your laughter cutting through the hum like a melody just for him.

As if feeling the weight of his gaze, you glanced over your shoulder. Your eyes met his for a fleeting moment. You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a small, knowing smile, before turning back to the conversation. The gesture was simple, but it lit something inside Beomgyu—an undeniable pull that made the rest of the room blur into insignificance.

Huening Kai nudged him, snapping him back. “Earth to Beomgyu. What’s got you so distracted?”

“Nothing,” Beomgyu muttered, shifting in his seat. He tried to focus on the banter at the table, but his grip on his drink tightened, his pulse quickening with every second. He resisted the urge to act.

Moments later, you excused yourself from the group, weaving through the crowd toward the exit. Beomgyu’s chest tightened as he watched you slip through the bustling room, your red dress vanishing toward the lobby doors. You weren’t grabbing another drink or heading for the bathroom. You were leaving.

His chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood.

“Whoa, where’s the fire?” Taehyun quipped, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Bathroom,” Beomgyu mumbled, the lie slipping out as he avoided his friend’s gaze.

He didn’t wait for a response; his feet were already carrying him through the crowd. Each step felt heavier, his heart pounding as he followed your retreating figure. The celebration continued around him, but it all felt distant.

Beomgyu wasn’t sure what he’d say when he caught up to you. All he knew was that he couldn’t let you leave without trying.

Present

The present surges back with intensity as Beomgyu gives in completely, his arms tightening around you as if you’re the only thing grounding him in the moment. The kiss is no longer just a meeting of lips—it’s a surrender. His fingers press into the curve of your back, desperate, unwilling to let go, as though holding you closer might silence the storm inside him.

You respond in kind, your own desires matching his. Your hands tangle in his hair, nails grazing his scalp, a deliberate pull that sends a shiver down his spine. You know the effect you have on him and lean into it, your breaths mingling in the heated space between you. For a moment, there are no questions, no doubts—just the undeniable pull of your bodies answering the unspoken call.

“Beomgyu,” you murmur against his lips, your voice low and teasing but edged with something darker, something that hints at how much you crave this too. You tilt your head slightly, deepening the kiss; your movements are deliberate, drawing him further under your spell.

He breaks the kiss briefly, his forehead resting against yours, his breathing uneven. “This is…” he begins, but the words falter as his gaze locks onto yours. His eyes are searching, conflicted, and unsure.

“This is what it always is,” you finish for him, your fingers sliding down to trace the line of his jaw. “And you always come back.” Your words are calm, almost detached, but there’s a challenge in your tone—a reminder that he’s here because he wants to be.

Beomgyu swallows hard, his grip loosening just slightly, though his body refuses to fully let you go. “I…” he trails off, his chest heaving as he tries to pull himself together. Every time he’s with you, it feels like stepping off a cliff—thrilling, terrifying, inevitable.

Your lips quirk up into a small, knowing smile, and you lean in close again, your voice soft but firm. “Don’t overthink it, Beomgyu. We both know why we’re here.”

He closes his eyes for a beat, the weight of your words settling over him. When he opens them, there’s a mix of longing and restraint in his expression. But then your hands move, invading his shirt with a slow, purposeful intention, and the last of his resolve crumbles.

Without another word, he captures your lips again, this time with even more intensity. The tension, the hesitations, the unspoken truths—all of it melts away in the heat of the moment. In his arms, the chaos of his world fades, replaced by something he can’t quite define but can’t resist either.

For now, at least, the consequences can wait.

Flashback

The hallway beyond the main party area stretched out like a quiet sanctuary, offering a reprieve from the swirling chaos of the celebration. Muted laughter and the faint thrum of music faded as Beomgyu moved through the corridor, his footsteps light against the polished floor. The air felt heavier here, the dim lighting casting soft shadows that mirrored the unrest in his chest. He hadn’t meant to follow you—it was reckless, impulsive—but something about you called him—a pull he couldn’t resist.

He turned a corner, and there you were, leaning casually against a stone pillar at the end of the hallway. The glow from the wall sconces bathed you in warm light, catching the subtle shimmer of your dress and the faint curve of your lips. You were on your phone, fingers trailing idly along the hem of your skirt, your posture relaxed, almost languid. You hadn’t expected anyone to find you here, least of all him.

The faint flicker of surprise in your eyes melted into something more amusing as you noticed him standing there, caught in your orbit. You straightened slightly, your lips quirking into a half-smile. “May I help you?” you asked, your tone light, teasing, but your gaze sharp, curious.

Beomgyu froze. Words, excuses, plans—all of it evaporated in an instant, leaving him standing there, exposed. “I…” His voice faltered, the weight of your attention making his pulse race. “I wanted… I just—”

“You just…?” you prompted, your head tilting slightly as you studied him, a playful edge to your smile.

His nerves were on fire, but there was no malice in your teasing. It felt like you were testing him, daring him to say more, to step closer. Every instinct screamed at him to walk away, to retreat before he did something foolish. But your presence, the way you seemed so completely in control while his world tilted on its axis, rooted him in place.

“I just wanted to say that you are stunning tonight, and I can’t stop thinking about you,” he blurted, his voice soft but trembling with the weight of the confession. The air between you thickened as the words hung there, raw and unpolished, leaving him exposed in a way he wasn’t sure he could recover from.

For a moment, your expression shifted, your eyes widening almost imperceptibly. Then your smile returned, slower this time, your amusement giving way to something more deliberate. “And what are you gonna do about that, Beomgyu?” you asked, your voice low and laced with challenge.

The question hit him like a jolt. His breath hitched as he searched for your gaze for an answer, but words failed him. The pounding in his chest drowned out every coherent thought, leaving only the unbearable pull toward you.

Before he could think, before he could talk himself out of it, he closed the space between you. His hands found your waist, tentative but firm, and then his lips were on yours. The kiss was far from perfect—eager and messy, driven by weeks of suppressed desire. It was a collision of pent-up tension and impulsive need, his heart hammering in his chest as the rest of the world faded away.

You stiffened at first, your body frozen in surprise, but then you softened. Your hands slid up his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his blazer as you pulled him closer. You matched his urgency, your lips moving against his in a rhythm that felt both natural and electric. The kiss deepened, the intensity building with each passing second, until you were both breathless, clinging to each other as if the hallway itself had vanished.

When you finally broke apart, Beomgyu’s chest heaved, his breath coming in shallow gasps. His lips tingled, and he could feel the heat rising to his face. He searched for your expression, desperate for some sign of what you were thinking, but you were as unreadable as ever.

You touched your lips lightly, a soft chuckle escaping as your gaze locked onto his. “Well,” you said, your voice low and laced with amusement, “that wasn’t what I expected tonight.”

Beomgyu opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came. His mind was a whirlwind, and the only thought he could hold onto was how impossibly close you still were.

You reached into your bag and pulled out your phone, holding it out with a teasing smile that carried an undertone of sincerity. “Here,” you said, your tone light but pointed. “Let’s exchange numbers. Maybe next time, you’ll know what you want before chasing after me.”

He hesitated, your words playful yet unsettling, like a challenge he wasn’t sure he could meet. Slowly, he took the phone from your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that ignited a heat he couldn’t suppress. His grip felt unsteady as he tapped in his number, the weight of the moment making every action seem heavier. When he handed it back, you slipped it into your bag with effortless grace, an ease that only heightened his own awkwardness.

Without missing a beat, you plucked his phone from his hand and entered your number, the slight smirk on your lips sending his heart racing. “Don’t take too long,” you said, your voice carrying an edge of both warning and invitation. With a final wink, you turned on your heel and strode away, your steps deliberate and assured, each one pulling his attention like a magnet.

Beomgyu stood frozen, the faint scent of your perfume lingering in the air. His heart was still racing, his lips still tingling. He had crossed a line he hadn’t even realized he was approaching, and there was no going back now. Whatever he had started here, it was far from over—and the thought both thrilled and terrified him.

Present

The room hums with a quiet tension, every breath between you both heavy with unspoken words. Beomgyu's hands gently trail along your back, each gentle stroke sending a shiver through him as he pulls you closer. The sensation of your skin against his fingertips is intoxicating, almost like he is trying to memorize every curve, every inch of you. His lips brush against your neck, light and soft, sending waves of warmth and electricity through your body; the warmth of his touch lingers long after, and the softness of your skin beneath his mouth made his heartbeat quicken. Every part of you felt so real, so tangible at that moment, and yet the swirl of conflicting thoughts in his mind threatened to pull him away.

Was he ready for this? Could he handle it? The questions came and went like fleeting shadows. But he tried hard to keep them buried. Now wasn’t the time. Not when everything about you felt so pure, so magnetic.

You let your fingers slide through his hair, tugging him closer, the heat of his body drawing you in, the rhythm of his breath synchronizing with yours. His chest tightens, and for a second, you both just stay there, as if trying to decide what comes next. The pull between you is undeniable, the way you both seem to breathe in sync, but there's a vulnerability in his eyes, something unspoken.

His gaze never leaves yours as he carefully undresses you, each movement thoughtful, as if he's afraid of breaking something precious. The weight of the moment presses down on you, but there's no fear, only the quiet thrill of being seen like this. When your dress falls away, leaving you in nothing but a delicate lacy black underwear, Beomgyu's eyes darken, his dick pulsating inside his trousers.

He can’t stop himself from leaning in, his lips brushing across your right nipple while his fingers play with the left. You just grab his hair strongly and moan. After swapping his mouth and fingers between your hardened nipples, he pulls back. His breath is shaky, but his words come out like a whispered confession.

“You look…” His voice falters slightly, thick with sincerity. “Incredible.”

You meet his gaze, the rawness in his words settling over you. You feel yourself getting wetter and bit your lower lip, lost in desire.

“Every inch of you,” he says, his fingers gliding along your waist, then dipping lower, reaching your inner thighs, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time all over again.”

Your breath is caught in your throat when his fingers start caressing your clit. You feel like you’re on fire as he fingers you in a gentle way. The intensity of his gaze, paying attention to your every reaction, makes you want him more. His fingers move to your hole and caress you lightly there.

“So wet for me,” he says, his voice low and sensual, making you roll your eyes in pleasure. “I love your reactions.”

His heart pounds in his chest as his fingers invade your pussy, thrusting with a reverence that almost startled him. You almost scream with pleasure, moaning loudly in his ear, which makes him smile. With his free hand, he holds you by your waist, helping you to stay on your feet as you lose yourself in his deliberate touch.

As the heat of the moment burns between you both, memories of your first night together crash into him. The way he’d kissed you then, the way you’d kissed him back, the rawness of that night… It felt like a lifetime ago.

Flashback

The hallway had seemed endless as Beomgyu walked, each step heavier than the last. He had told his friends he was stepping out to visit his mom—a lie he had convinced himself was necessary, but he knew the truth. He was heading toward you, toward the one person who had been consuming his thoughts for far too long. His stomach churned with both desire and fear, the pull between wanting you and doubting everything growing stronger the closer he got to the door.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, a sudden distraction from the storm brewing inside him. He pulled it out quickly, his heart skipping when he saw the simple message: “I’m waiting for you.”

Of course, you were. You were always waiting. He had reserved a room in the fanciest yet most secluded hotel in Seoul, under the name of Ben, to avoid any suspicion and meet you. Now, there was nothing left but to face you—face everything you two had built in the silence and secrecy. But the reality of it—the intimacy, the risk—felt overwhelming.

Beomgyu’s hand trembled as he gripped the door handle. There was no need to knock. He had the key, the access, but still, he hesitated. His breath was shallow, his mind filled with doubts and questions. The door creaked open, and there you were.

The room was dim, shadows stretching across the floor, the air thick with tension. You stood by the bed, your eyes locking with his, unblinking, unwavering. Beautiful. Unfazed. Waiting.

His throat went dry. He couldn’t move. The weight of it all crashed down on him, but still, you remained calm and poised. You knew what you wanted. You were steady, unlike him, who was spinning in circles in his own mind.

“Hi,” your voice was soft but confident, carrying the weight of everything unsaid between you. You weren’t questioning yourself. You weren’t hesitating.

“Hey,” Beomgyu replied, his voice rougher than he had meant it to be. His heart was pounding in his chest as he stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind him. And still, there was a distance between you, an invisible wall he wasn’t sure how to break.

You tilted your head slightly, the corner of your lips curving into that familiar smile. It was small, but it held something far deeper—something he had always seen in your eyes. You weren’t rushing, or pressing him either. You were just there, waiting for him to meet you halfway.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your voice quieter now, as if you could sense his hesitation.

Beomgyu swallowed hard, unable to speak for a moment. The questions choked him, tangled up in his throat. “I… I don’t know,” he finally said, his chest tightening with each word. “I’m not sure if we should be doing this, you know?”

The words felt foreign on his tongue, unsure, as if saying them might make everything real. But you neither pull away nor retreat. Instead, you moved closer, your hand brushing against his chest, sending a shock of warmth through him. The simplicity of your touch grounded him in the moment and reminded him that there was no need for words, no need for all the confusion in his mind.

“Then let’s figure it out together,” you said, your voice steady, unwavering. You weren’t concerned about the future. You were here now, with him.

Present

When he can’t take it anymore, he removes his fingers from you and throws you into bed. You just laugh, amazed by how he loses control when you are together. You couldn’t want anything better: he is stunning, charming, sexy, and knew how to use his mouth, fingers, and his long and thick dick that makes your mouth water whenever he gets naked.

His hands find the hem of your underwear, quickly freeing you from that piece of clothing. Your gaze is dark, filled with desire, which makes his dick ache inside his pants. “You don’t know how much I want to…”

“Want to what?” You tease, your voice low but dripping with challenge.

Beomgyu hesitates for a moment, unsure if he should let his thoughts slip, but then he just smiles. There is no use denying it now that you are fully naked in front of him, almost begging for some action. “Want to fuck you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You prop yourself up on your elbows and give him a daring look. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Smirking, Beomgyu gets up to remove his clothes and grabs a condom in his pocket, tearing it open with his teeth and rolling through his length. He doesn’t waste any more time and positions himself, invading you in a hurry.

The pull is undeniable, and as Beomgyu moves to kiss you again, he realizes it isn’t just the physical attraction or the heat building between you—it’s something deeper, something more. The uncertainty remains, but for now, it’s drowned out by the quiet intimacy you share at this moment, your bodies speaking their own language.

Flashback

You moved first, stepping toward him, the space between you shrinking with every breath. Your fingers brushed his arm, sending a shiver down his spine, and the air grew heavier, more charged. “You look good,” you whispered, your voice thick with something more than just a compliment. Beomgyu swallowed, his heart racing as he leaned in, closing the distance between you. His lips brushed yours, tentative at first, like a question without words. But when you responded, warm and eager, he knew.

Your kiss deepened slowly at first, but then it turned urgent, as if you both could no longer hold back. Your hands moved with practiced ease, sliding beneath his shirt, tracing the lines of his skin, your fingertips grazing his muscles like you were memorizing every inch of him. Beomgyu’s breath hitched, his own hands trembling slightly as they moved to your waist, pulling you closer. The heat between you grew, the world outside the hotel room seeming to fade into nothingness.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your gaze intense and unwavering. “So, are you gonna fuck me or not?” you teased, your voice husky, full of challenge. Your fingers tugged at the collar of his shirt, and without a second thought, he helped you pull it off, his movements desperate but eager.

The air between you crackled as your bodies collided, the intensity of your touch making everything else fade into the background. Your hands slid to the waistband of his jeans, slow but deliberate, each movement a promise. Beomgyu’s chest tightened, his heart racing, as he kissed you again, deeper, more urgently.

He murmured against your lips, “Are you sure?” But you didn’t answer with words—only with another kiss, one that swept him away, drowning out every doubt. There was no room for hesitation now, no space left for uncertainty.

As you fell into bed, naked, things felt lighter, simpler, and easier. Every touch, every kiss, every movement brought you both closer, the tension thick in the air. And as you finally gave in to the pull and to the heat between you, the world outside the room disappeared entirely.

Nothing mattered except the rhythm of your bodies, the feeling of your skin against his, and the undeniable certainty that you were both lost in this moment together.

Present

“Oh, Gyu, faster!” You moan, pulling his hair. He simply obeys, thrusting quicker, biting his lower lip to your sight, completely covered in sweat and at his mercy.

At this moment, the world outside the hotel room, the doubts, the uncertainty—everything—fades into the background. There is no fame, no fans, no company, no magazine, no tasks. It’s just the two of you, tangled in each other, your bodies moving in sync, as if you were one, your hearts racing in time with the beat of something unspoken.

Beomgyu’s voice breaks the silence, thick with emotion. “You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he murmurs, his words making your chest tighten in an unexpected way. “It’s not just your smile… but the way your eyes light up when you look at me… It’s everything.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and you feel something warm unfurl inside you, something you haven’t allowed yourself to acknowledge until now. You moan louder, your hands moving to the back of his neck, pulling him into another kiss, slow and deep. Beomgyu follows your lead, his mind drifting to how easy it is to get lost in you and how the weight of his doubts seems to fade when he is with you.

Breaking the kiss, your breath becomes more erratic, and you plead for more, and he knows you are close. He massages your clit again, and it is too much for you. You explode, digging your nails on his back, which makes him hiss and lose control, filling the condom with his cum.

--

The rest of the night passes in a blur. Beomgyu lets himself fall deeper into your world, where you guide him effortlessly, showing him what it means to let go. For a while, he forgets about everything else, losing himself in the way you touch him and the way your body responds to his. It’s all too easy to get lost in you. But as the hours slip away, and he finds himself tangled in the sheets beside you, something shifts.

He watches you, your breathing steady and peaceful as you sleep, your bare shoulder glowing softly under the pale light spilling through the window. He can’t help but marvel at how you seem to have everything figured out. You’re everything he’s not—fearless, confident, unapologetically yourself. The complete opposite of him.

And yet, even though everything in him wants to stay, to surrender completely to the pull between you, his mind begins to spiral again. He doesn’t belong here. He can’t stay. The reality of his life is looming just outside the warm bubble you two have created together. It’s not that he doesn’t want you—it’s the opposite, in fact. He wants you in a way he can’t explain, in a way that scares him, because he knows what it means to let himself feel this much.

But he can’t. He can’t let this go on any longer. He has to leave.

The thought cuts through him like a cold blade, and he feels a pang in his chest. It’s almost unbearable. The idea of walking away from this, from you, feels impossible. But he can’t stay. Not when he knows what the consequences would be. Not when he’s already risking too much just by being here.

Beomgyu glances at you again, your features soft in the dim light, your body so close to his. Every instinct in him is screaming to stay, to keep holding on, but his mind knows better. You deserve more than this. You deserve someone who can be with you fully, without hesitation, without the fear of what’s coming next. And he’s not that person. Not in the way you need him to be.

He sits up quietly, the movement careful, trying not to disturb you. He runs a hand through his hair, his gaze lingering on you one last time.

A part of him wants to wake you, to tell you everything—to explain the battle raging inside him, to explain why he feels like he can’t stay. But he can’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. Not when everything is so raw, so uncertain.

Beomgyu sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes, trying to push away the guilt creeping in. He’s made up his mind. He has to leave.

But as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, preparing to stand, the weight of it all presses down on him. He stops for a moment, sitting in the quiet, the sound of your breathing the only thing he can focus on.

For a second, he wonders if he could just stay a little longer. If this moment could last. But no. He knows that’s not possible. Not in his world. Not in the life he’s built.

The room is still dim when you stir, soft light filtering through the curtains. The warmth of the bed beckons you back to sleep, but the space beside you is cold—empty.

You sit up slowly, brushing your hair away from your face. The rustling of fabric catches your attention, and you find him across the room, standing by the window, already dressed. His fingers fumble with the buttons of his coat, the movement deliberate but strained. His posture is rigid, like he’s bracing himself for something.

“Beomgyu,” you call softly, breaking the silence.

He pauses, still facing away from you, then slowly turns. His expression is guarded, but his eyes… His eyes betray him, full of hesitation, of something raw and vulnerable.

“I’m leaving,” he says, each word heavy, like he’s been carrying them for too long. “For good this time.”

You look at him for a long moment, but you don’t feel anger, not even sadness—just a hollow space where something used to be. Something you no longer recognize.

“I see,” you reply, your voice even, almost distant.

Beomgyu takes a step toward you but stops just short of the bed. His voice cracks as he tries to explain. “I can’t keep doing this, YN. This… whatever this is between us… it’s not sustainable. The secrecy, the lies, pretending it’s okay when it’s not—it’s eating me alive. I’m scared of what it’s doing to us, to me.”

You don’t interrupt, though his words fall heavy around you. You let them sink in, and you nod slowly, your eyes steady. “If that’s how you feel.”

His confusion deepens, a rush of desperation in his chest. “You… don’t have anything to say?”

You take a breath before replying, your gaze unwavering. “What’s the point, Beomgyu?”

The words hit him harder than anything else could. He wants you to fight, to pull him back, to make this hurt less for both of you. But there’s nothing from you—just acceptance, a quiet that makes his heart shatter.

“You’re not even going to argue?” His voice is almost pleading now. “You’ll just… let me go?”

You stand slowly, walking toward the window, leaving the space between you untouched. You’ve always fought for him, but as he stands ready to leave, you realize this was never truly yours to hold onto. Letting him go isn’t surrendering—it’s accepting the truth: he was never meant to be yours.

“You made your choice,” you say quietly, not looking back at him. “I won’t make it harder for you.”

His throat tightens. Every word you’ve said, every moment of silence between you, weighs on him. He doesn’t know what to say anymore. The words are stuck in his chest, useless now. He’s already hurt you too much to ask for anything else.

Beomgyu steps forward, but his feet feel like they’re rooted to the ground. “YN, I—”

“If you’re leaving,” you interrupt, your voice flat, “just go.”

“YN…” His voice cracks, but you don’t turn. You don’t move. You just stand there, looking out at the pale light of morning creeping through the window, letting the weight of his departure settle in.

“Goodbye, Beomgyu.” Your voice is steady, but it carries a finality that cuts through him.

He lingers a moment longer, hand on the door handle, but there’s nothing left for him to say, nothing to undo the damage. He takes one last look at you—at the calmness, the quiet resignation in your posture—and leaves.

The door clicks softly behind him, and you stand by the window, your heart pounding in the silence. You don’t cry or shout. You just stand there, letting the world move on, knowing that this chapter has ended.

--

After Beomgyu left, you stayed in the hotel room longer than you planned, the cold, empty bed feeling like a void you couldn’t escape. You stood under the shower for what felt like hours, letting the warm water cascade over your motionless body. Your forehead pressed against the cool tiles as you irrationally hoped the water could rinse away the heaviness inside you. But it couldn’t.

When you stepped out and caught your reflection in the fogged mirror, you barely recognized the tense, tired expression staring back at you. You wrapped a towel around yourself, your fingers trembling slightly as you picked up your phone. A reminder blinked on the screen—a client meeting in two hours. You swiped it away with a frustrated sigh. Work was the only thing you could control right now, and it was what you would focus on.

By the time you reached your office, the city had shaken off its sleep, and the bustling energy matched your hurried steps through the glass doors.

“Morning, YN,” your assistant, Minji, greeted you with a warm smile, handing over a folder. “Here’s the client proposal. Also, Mr. Park moved your meeting to 3 PM.”

“Thanks, Minji,” you replied, flipping through the pages without really seeing them.

“Rough night?” Minji asked playfully, eyeing your slightly ruffled appearance.

You forced a smile. “Something like that.”

The day passed in a haze of tasks—emails, back-to-back meetings, design reviews, and putting out fires caused by an unreliable supplier. Your colleagues moved around you with curious glances, sensing your unusual quietness but knowing better than to pry.

Even as you powered through your responsibilities, your thoughts betrayed you. Beomgyu’s face surfaced unbidden—his playful smirk, his uncertain eyes, the softness in his voice when he’d said your name for the last time. Each memory was like a small knife, sharp enough to remind you of what you’d lost, but not enough to distract you completely.

A few days later, the rehearsal studio hums with activity, but for Beomgyu, it's as if the world has slipped into a muffled roar. His body is there, but his mind is miles away, stuck at that moment��walking out the door, leaving you behind. He rubs his face, still feeling the sting of it—the hollow emptiness that settled in his chest when he walked away. Nothing is the same anymore.

“Beomgyu, focus!” The choreographer’s sharp voice slices through the fog of his thoughts, yanking him back to the present. The music stops suddenly, and Beomgyu blinks as the silence seems to swallow the room. “What’s going on with you?”

“I—sorry,” he stammers, his voice thick with exhaustion. His hands tremble slightly as he wipes the sweat from his forehead. He’s not sure if it’s from the workout or something much deeper. He runs through the steps in his head, but everything feels… wrong. Off. His body refuses to cooperate.

His bandmates exchange concerned glances. Soobin is the first to step forward, offering him a water bottle wordlessly. It’s a quiet gesture, a silent understanding between them. But Beomgyu can’t return it with his usual ease; the weight of his emotions is too heavy to mask.

“You okay?” Soobin asks, his voice low, measured, like he can feel the storm brewing just beneath Beomgyu's calm exterior.

“Yeah,” Beomgyu mutters, taking a long drink of the water, but the lie tastes bitter on his tongue. “Just tired.”

“You're more than tired,” Soobin says, his gaze sharpening. “You're uncoordinated, out of focus.”

The staff approaches, their eyes piercing, ready to demand answers. “What’s going on?”

Before Beomgyu can speak, Yeonjun steps in, sensing the tension rising. “We all had a rough night,” he says, his tone even but commanding as he glances at the staff. “Construction near the dorm kept us up. Let’s take a break and reset.”

The staff hesitates, sizing them up before reluctantly nodding. “Fine. Beomgyu, don’t let it happen again.”

Beomgyu feels their gaze linger on him as they disperse. He’s the one out of sync, the one causing the delay. The emptiness settles back into his chest as he sits on the floor. The sound of his own heartbeat echoes in his ears, drowning out the noise of the world around him. He doesn’t know how to escape from this.

In the days that followed his departure, you made a silent vow to yourself: you’ll stay late at the office every day, working until exhaustion drowns out the thoughts of him. The office becomes your refuge, a place where you can bury yourself in work, enough to keep the nagging ache in your chest at bay. The hours bleed into each other as you throw yourself into spreadsheets, meetings, and design revisions.

By the time the office empties and the city lights begin casting long shadows across the room, you’re still at your desk, your mind buzzing with tasks.

“You’re still here?” Minji’s voice breaks the silence, her concern clear in her soft tone.

You don’t look up. Your fingers continue to move over the keyboard, steady but mechanical. “Just finishing up a few things,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

Minji hesitates, studying your posture. “Don’t overdo it, okay? You’ll burn out.”

You force a smile, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’ll be fine. Thanks, Minji. Goodnight.”

She nods and leaves, and the quiet returns, heavy with the weight of your solitude. The silence in the office presses down on you, suffocating, but you stay where you are. Leaning back in your chair, you close your eyes and exhale a long, slow breath. You don’t want to go home, so you bury yourself in work again. You don’t allow yourself to think, not for a single moment. It isn’t until your stomach growls, protesting the hours without food, that you glance at the time. 11:45 PM.

You gather your things and step into the cool night air, the chill brushing against your skin like a reminder of the world beyond your desk. The streets are eerily quiet as you slide into your car, the hum of the engine a familiar comfort. The drive home should be peaceful—empty streets and the steady rhythm of the road beneath your tires. But your mind won’t let you rest.

Why does it hurt this much?

You grip the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles turning white as memories of him flood back—his hand in yours, the fleeting vulnerability in his eyes, the regret in his voice when you parted.

Your phone buzzes on the passenger seat, dragging you from your thoughts. You glance at it, your heart skipping a beat. It’s not from him. You know it won’t be, but the automatic reflex to check, to hope, lingers. The screen lights up with a new message, but your hope fades quickly. It’s just an email—a distraction, but nothing more.

In that split second, your car hits a slick patch of road.

The tires screech, the car swerves violently, and your heart races in panic. Everything happens so fast—too fast. The world tilts sideways, your grip on the wheel futile against the forces that take control. And then, with a sickening thud, the crash comes—a violent collision of metal against metal, glass shattering around you, the deafening sound of impact filling your ears.

Then, silence.

The world stills. The weight of your emotions, the hum of your thoughts, everything you’ve been running from, fades into nothingness as darkness envelops you.

The dorm door creaks open, and the group shuffles inside, their usual laughter and banter replaced by a heavy, uneasy silence. Beomgyu’s shoulders slump as he kicks off his shoes, his bag dropping with a dull thud near the door. He barely manages a glance at the others before he collapses onto the couch, his hands covering his face. Exhaustion and frustration mix, pooling together like a storm inside him.

“Alright,” Soobin says, his voice cutting through the stillness as he shuts the door behind him. “Spill.”

Beomgyu groans, muffling the sound in his palms. “It’s nothing. Just a bad day.”

“Bullshit,” Yeonjun cuts in, his arms crossing tightly, eyes narrowed in that knowing way. “You’ve been zoning out for weeks. Since when do you miss steps?”

Kai leans forward on the edge of the coffee table, his expression serious. “Are you sick?”

The air is thick, everyone waiting for him to speak. But Beomgyu doesn’t know where to begin. The weight of their stares presses down on him. After what feels like an eternity, he exhales a shaky breath. His hands fall to his lap. His voice is quieter than usual, fragile. “No. There’s… someone,” he admits, almost inaudible.

Four pairs of eyes widen in shock, the sudden admission hanging in the room, thick as smoke.

“Someone?” Soobin repeats, disbelief lacing his tone.

Beomgyu nods, keeping his gaze down. “We’ve been seeing each other. In secret.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk playing at his lips. “Secret, as in ‘fans-can’t-know’ secret? Or ‘scandal-level’ secret?”

“Both,” Beomgyu mutters, the weight of it all evident in his voice, a heavy burden that sinks deeper with each word.

Taehyun leans in, his voice steady, cutting through the tension. “Who is she? And why all the secrecy?”

Beomgyu hesitates, running a hand through his hair. His mind races, but his chest feels tight. Finally, he looks up, meeting their eyes, and for the first time, he lets his guard down. “She’s a producer. We met at a magazine shoot.” A faint, almost imperceptible smile tugs at his lips. “She’s… amazing.”

The room falls silent as they process his words, the quiet intensity settling over them like a thick fog.

“Go on,” Yeonjun presses, leaning forward, his voice a mixture of curiosity and something more.

Beomgyu’s smile deepens, and for a moment, the weight on his chest lightens. He speaks more freely now, almost with reverence. “She’s a bit older than me, but she’s so beautiful. She’s confident, blunt, and incredibly smart. The first time we met, she didn’t treat me like an idol.”

Kai smirks knowingly, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Let me guess—she shut you down?”

“Completely,” Beomgyu admits, a genuine chuckle escaping him. “She was so professional that I was really impressed. And she’ll always make me forget about the world.”

“I see,” Taehyun observes, his voice a mix of amusement and curiosity. “And I assume you like that?”

“I love it,” Beomgyu says, the admiration clear in his voice. “She doesn’t care about the fame or the cameras. With her, I can just… be.”

Soobin’s expression softens, but there’s a flicker of concern in his eyes—the quiet worry that’s been with him all night. “If she makes you this happy, why are you falling apart?”

Beomgyu’s smile fades, the weight of the truth pulling him back down. His shoulders sag, the pressure of his own vulnerability heavy in the air. “Because it’s a mess. If anyone finds out, it could ruin everything.”

Yeonjun rubs his temples, the gravity of the situation settling in. “Damn, Gyu. But if she’s worth it, isn’t it better to fight for her?”

Beomgyu’s voice cracks, his next words barely more than a whisper, the raw emotion slipping through. “I don’t know,” he admits, his heart laying bare.

Kai reaches out, his hand resting on Beomgyu’s knee, a quiet gesture of solidarity. “You’re not alone, Hyung. We’ll figure this out together.”

Taehyun nods, his voice firm but understanding, the calm anchor in the chaos. “But you need to decide what you want. If she’s this important to you, you have to find a way to make it work.”

Beomgyu glances around the room, seeing the unwavering support of his friends, and something in his chest loosens just a little. “Thanks, guys. Really.” His voice cracks at the end, and he quickly clears his throat.

Soobin offers him a soft smile, his eyes filled with understanding. “We’ve got your back, Gyu. Always.”

Just as the silence lingers, a buzz cuts through the air. Beomgyu jumps, his stomach lurching as his phone lights up with an unknown number. His heart races. He swipes to answer, a knot of unease tightening in his chest.

“Hello?” He answers, his voice strained, almost panicked.

The voice on the other end is muffled, but there’s urgency in it. “Hello, is this Mr. Ben?”

Beomgyu’s mind races, that sinking feeling in his stomach growing heavier. He knows that name. Ben is the alias he used to rent the room. Only you knew about it.

“Yeah. Who is this?”

“This is Daewon Medical Center. We’re calling about a woman who’s been admitted to our facility. She listed you as her emergency contact.” The nurse’s voice is rushed and clipped. “There’s been an incident. A car accident.”

Beomgyu freezes, his breath catching in his throat. “Is she… How is she?” The words feel foreign in his mouth, the panic rising in his chest.

“We need you to come down here and provide more details,” the nurse continues, urgency mounting in their tone. “Please, come immediately.”

Beomgyu’s mind is reeling. He feels the blood drain from his face. His voice barely escapes him, shaken and weak. “I’ll be there.” He hangs up quickly, his hand trembling as it falls to his side.

For a moment, everything stands still. His friends are silent, their eyes wide, waiting. The room feels impossibly heavy.

“What happened, man?” Taehyun asks, his voice low, the concern unmistakable.

“YN,” Beomgyu’s voice cracks, his face going pale. “She’s in the hospital. She was in a car accident.”

“Oh my God,” Kai whispers, his voice trembling. “Is she… is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” Beomgyu chokes out, his eyes wide with terror. “I don’t know if she’s okay. I need to go to the hospital.”

Without waiting another second, Beomgyu grabs his coat, his movements frantic, almost desperate. His heart pounds in his chest faster than he can breathe.

Soobin is the first to move, his expression soft but filled with concern. “We’re coming with you,” he says, his voice steady, a quiet strength in the face of the storm.

Yeonjun is already moving toward the door, his teasing demeanor gone, replaced by a raw sincerity. “We’ve got you, Gyu. Let’s go.”

One by one, his friends follow, their steps synchronized with Beomgyu’s anxious heart. Every step feels like it’s taking him closer to something he’s terrified to face, but he knows he can’t face it alone.

You wake up in a sterile white room, the cold, harsh light above you making everything feel even more disorienting. Your head throbs, every pulse a sharp reminder of the crash. The beeping of machines and the low murmur of voices seems distant, muffled, as if you’re underwater, disconnected from the world around you.

You try to sit up, but the sharp pain that shoots through your limbs forces you back down. The ache spreads, deep and heavy, making you feel like a broken version of yourself. Your vision blurs as you blink against the light, trying to make sense of everything.

The last thing you remember is the argument with Beomgyu—the harsh words, the cold silence, the way everything fell apart. Then, nothing. Just darkness. You close your eyes again, willing the weight of the pain, both physical and emotional, to fade, but it doesn’t. It’s as if the ache in your head grows stronger the more you think about it.

A nurse enters, her voice soft as she asks questions, but you barely hear her, your mind lost in the haunting thoughts of Beomgyu. The kiss. The way he left you hanging. Was he really gone for good? Could you ever get past this?

“Can you tell me your name?” The nurse asks again, her voice gentle but firm.

You blink, trying to focus, your thoughts still cloudy. “YN,” you whisper, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Good,” the nurse says, writing something down. “Do you know what happened?”

Your heart sinks as you try to piece together the fragments of memory, but it all feels too far away, like sand slipping through your fingers. “I—I was in a car accident,” you murmur, the words small and distant.

“That's right,” the nurse replies. “You were brought in after midnight. There was nothing serious, but you'll need to stay here under observation.”

You shut your eyes tightly. You’re tired, your body is aching, and you just want the pain to end. You want to leave this sterile room and be anywhere else, anywhere but here—lost in a place where everything you’ve fought for has crumbled in an instant.

As your thoughts spiral, exhaustion pulls you under. The beeping machines, the nurse’s voice, the ache in your body—all blur together into a haze. You can’t fight it anymore. Your body is too tired, too broken from the accident, and from the emotional weight you’ve been carrying. Slowly, your breathing steadies, and the tension in your muscles begins to release.

Beomgyu’s heart pounds as he walks through the sterile hallways of the hospital, the weight of dread sinking deeper with each step. His friends—Yeonjun, Taehyun, Kai, and Soobin—follow closely behind, their faces tight with concern. They’re there for him, a quiet support, but their presence does nothing to still the frantic beating in his chest. The only thing on his mind is you: your face, your voice, and the crushing fear of losing you.

When he reaches your room, his breath catches in his throat. You lie still on the bed, your small frame framed by the soft hum of machines, the rhythmic beep of the heart monitor echoing in the silence. His body moves without thought, drawn to your side, but his heart is already breaking.

“Is she…?” Beomgyu’s voice cracks, turning to the nurse finishing her paperwork. She nods sympathetically, her eyes kind but professional, before stepping out, leaving him alone with you.

The room is too quiet; the only sound is the steady beep of the monitor and the soft shuffle of nurses in the hallway. Beomgyu stands there, rooted to the spot, his eyes never leaving your pale face. Each shallow breath you take seems too fragile, too tentative. It hits him then—this could be it. He could lose you. He has never felt more helpless.

Yeonjun places a hand on his shoulder, offering him a silent kind of support. “We’ll wait outside. Just… take care of her,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. One by one, they step out, leaving Beomgyu alone with you, the only person who’s ever truly seen him.

The door clicks shut behind them, and the silence becomes unbearable. His heart beats so loudly in his chest, it drowns out everything else. He can’t breathe, can’t think. His trembling hand hovers over yours, as though the simple act of holding your hand will anchor him to something real.

When he finally takes your hand, the warmth that lingers there shatters him. He had thought pushing you away was a way of protecting you, keeping you safe from the chaos of his world. But now, staring down at you, all those thoughts feel foolish. He’s terrified of losing you, and in doing so, he realizes he’s already lost you.

“YN…” His voice cracks, hoarse with emotion, each syllable slipping past the lump in his throat. He squeezes your hand tighter, desperate. “Please… please wake up.”

His chest tightens as he leans forward, resting his forehead against the edge of your bed. Tears fall freely now, his breath coming in ragged gasps as everything—the guilt, the fear, the regret—crashes down on him.

“I’m sorry,” Beomgyu whispers, his voice breaking. “I never should’ve pushed you away. I thought I was protecting you. I thought… I thought I could keep you safe, but all I did was hurt you.”

His fingers tremble, his grip tightening with each word. “I thought I was protecting us. If I stayed away… if I kept you out of my mess, everything would be okay. But I was wrong, so wrong, YN. I was just scared of how much I love you. I didn’t know how to handle it. And, to be honest, I still don’t.”

The rawness of his emotions overwhelms him, his voice cracking with each confession. “But I can’t hide anymore. I can’t hide from you, from what I feel. You’re the only person who’s ever really seen me. I’ve never been this vulnerable; never let anyone in like I’ve let you. And now, I’m just… scared of losing you. More than anything in my life.”

His breath hitches, his chest tightening with the weight of his confession. “I love you, YN. I love you so much that it hurts. And I’m so sorry. For making you feel like you didn’t matter. For letting fear get in the way of what we could’ve had. I was a coward. I thought I was protecting you, but I was wrong. And now… I don’t know if it’s too late.”

Tears fall faster now, each one carrying a weight of regret and guilt. Beomgyu wipes his eyes, but the tears keep coming. “I don’t care about the consequences anymore. I don’t care about the risks. All I care about is you. Please, wake up. Let me prove to you that I can be what you need and deserve. Please don’t let this be the end.”

He presses his face to your hand, as if holding on tight enough will pull you back to him. “I don’t know if you can hear me… But I just need you to know that I love you. I always have. And I always will.”

He cries quietly, his tears falling onto your hand, his heart laid bare in the stillness of the room. There’s no guarantee that you’ll wake up, no promise that everything will be okay. But all he can do now is confess his love and hope it’s enough.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours as Beomgyu sits beside you, his heart pounding with every word he’s just laid bare. His voice wavers under the weight of his confessions. He had expected nothing—no response, no sign of acknowledgment. Part of him hoped you were asleep, lost in a peaceful dream, because the thought of facing rejection after everything felt unbearable.

But you remain still, your eyes closed, you're breathing slow and even. Beomgyu’s words hang in the air like a heavy mist, each confession a tender cut, yet you say nothing. Maybe you didn’t hear him. Perhaps the words were too much. Maybe he was just too late.

A sigh escapes him as he slumps in the chair beside you, the exhaustion of the moment taking its toll. He’d spilled his heart, and now uncertainty weighs on him like a brick. Will you laugh? Push him away?

And just when he begins to lose hope, he notices it—your hand. It moves—just a twitch of your fingers, but enough to make his heart leap in his chest.

“YN?” His voice falters, uncertain.

Your eyes flutter open, barely enough to catch the moonlight casting soft shadows on your face. You blink at him for a moment, and then, impossibly, a smile pulls at the corners of your lips.

“Well, if you’re done talking…” You murmur, your voice thick with sleep but laced with something mischievous.

Beomgyu freezes. “You… you heard all that?” His voice cracks slightly, more surprised than embarrassed.

You stretch, your eyes twinkling with humor. “I didn’t sleep through your grand speech, if that’s what you’re asking. Are you always this dramatic?”

His face flushes instantly, his heart still racing from the weight of his confession, but now heat rushes to his cheeks from pure embarrassment. “I… I thought you were asleep,” he stammers, his words tangled in the confusion of relief and discomfort. “I didn’t know what else to say. I thought I’d lost you.”

You sit up, propping yourself on your elbows, your grin widening. “Well, it’s a good thing I woke up, huh? For all the emotional confessions and declarations.” You wink at him, your teasing tone lightening the air.

Beomgyu stands there, caught between relief and awkwardness, unsure how to navigate this sudden shift. His mind is still reeling from the confession, but now there’s a new energy between you—one he wasn’t expecting.

“Are you… not mad?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper, uncertainty creeping back in.

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Mad? No, not really.” You pause, the playful edge in your eyes softening just a touch. “I just didn’t think you’d care this much. I didn’t think you’d be this honest.”

His heart skips a beat. “But… you’re not angry?”

“More like… frustrated,” you affirm, the weight of your words settling between you both. “When you left… I didn’t realize how much it hurt until later. I told myself I was fine, that it didn’t matter, but I was lying. I was upset. I was sad.”

Beomgyu’s chest tightens, his heart sinking. “You were sad?”

“Of course.” You nod slowly, offering him a faint smile. “I pretended it didn’t matter. But it did. It really did.”

The words hang there, unspoken for so long, finally finding their way out. Beomgyu reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours, the touch grounding him in the rawness of the moment.

“I didn’t know,” he whispers, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t know you cared that much.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of it all pressing on your chest. “Beomgyu, I never stopped caring about you.” The words feel almost too simple, yet they hold so much.

His eyes soften, the vulnerability in them making your heart ache. He doesn’t respond at first; he just watches you, as if letting your words settle into him. Then, finally, he speaks, his voice quiet but sure.

“I’ve been afraid too,” he confesses. “I didn’t know how to come back. How to tell you I never stopped thinking about you… that I never stopped loving you.”

A heavy silence follows, the unspoken truths filling the room like a melody. The distance between you two has always felt vast, but now, at this moment, it seems to shrink, drawing you closer with every beat of your heart.

“I’m sorry, YN,” Beomgyu whispers, his voice cracking with regret. “For everything.”

A small, sad smile tugs at your lips, and you reach up to gently touch his cheek, your fingers grazing the skin you’ve always known. “You don’t have to apologize. We were both just… trying to protect ourselves.”

Beomgyu leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he breathes in the softness of the moment. He takes your hand and presses it to his lips, kissing your palm with a tenderness that makes your chest tighten.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispers. “I just didn’t know how to make everything right.”

You shake your head, your voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside. “We can find out together.”

There’s a pause—a shared breath, a moment to let the weight of the confessions settle. The silence isn’t heavy now; it feels like a delicate thread connecting you both, fragile but real.

But then, to your surprise, Beomgyu breaks the tension with a quiet laugh, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “So, why am I your emergency contact?”

You blink, caught off guard, before a grin spreads across your face. “I put you there for fun,” you tease, enjoying the sudden lightness.

Beomgyu’s confusion only deepens. “For fun?”

You shrug, nonchalant. “Well, I don’t have family here, and you’re the last person who’d panic if something happened. So… I thought you’d be fine with it.”

Beomgyu blinks a couple of times, trying to process. “But I actually panicked when I got the call from the hospital.”

You laugh softly, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “Oops. Sorry, my bad.”

“I wasn’t prepared for that kind of responsibility,” he protests, his nervous laugh bubbling up. “You should’ve warned me, you know?”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” You tease, your smile never fading.

“You really know how to keep me on my toes,” he admits, his voice soft but warm.

You smirk, a wink following. “What can I say? You make it too easy.”

The playful banter lingers between you, but as the laughter fades, the weight of the moment presses in again. Beomgyu's gaze softens, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to memorize every detail. The air feels warmer now, and the distance between you is almost nonexistent.

Without a word, he moves closer, his hand gently brushing against yours before he tentatively cups your cheek. Your breath hitches, the anticipation hanging heavy in the quiet space. His thumb strokes softly across your skin, and you close your eyes, surrendering to the warmth of his touch.

“YN…” His voice is barely a whisper, but it carries everything he's been holding back.

And before either of you can think, you both lean in, lips meeting in a tender kiss that speaks volumes. It's soft at first, almost reverent, as if the moment is fragile and new. But the deeper you sink into the kiss, the more it feels like something you've both been waiting for, something long overdue.

When you finally pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, your breath mingling, and neither of you moves to break the silence. There's no need for words anymore; everything is already said.

Time passes, each day flowing into the next, but this moment feels suspended—just the two of you, cocooned in this hotel room, far from everything that once held you apart. What started in secrecy, shrouded by uncertainty and fear, has now unfolded into something raw, something real. The past is behind you, and now there’s only the present, soft, quiet, and heavy with meaning.

You lie back against the pillows, fingers tracing the familiar lines of Beomgyu’s chest. The touch is subtle but speaks volumes—both of the comfort you’ve found in each other and of the unspoken understanding between you. But tonight, the question that has been hovering is finally voiced.

“So, what happens now?” Your voice is calm, though there's an edge of curiosity, of longing for something more. You’ve come so far, but there’s still that gap you need to cross.

Beomgyu looks at you, his gaze soft but filled with something deeper now. It wasn’t a question he expected, not after everything that’s happened, but now that you’ve both navigated the hardest parts, there’s no more avoiding it. No more pretending.

“I… I don’t want to hide anymore, YN,” he says, the words coming slowly but sure. “I don’t want to pretend this isn’t real. I’m not going to let fear stop me from being with you. Whatever happens—whatever the world says—I’ll handle it. I’m choosing this. I’m choosing us.”

The weight of his words settles in your chest, and for the first time in what feels like forever, a lightness fills the space between you. You’ve always known he’d reach this point. But hearing him say it, seeing his determination—it makes everything feel more real, more tangible.

“You’re sure?” you ask, your voice soft but steady. It's not doubt, not anymore, but a quiet understanding of what this means. “The world doesn’t always give us what we want. It’s not just about us. It’s everything that comes with it.”

He nods, a quiet certainty behind his eyes. “I’m sure. You’re worth it. All of it.”

Your smile grows, and the joy that fills you is quiet but deep. In the silence between you, it’s clear. You’ve built something strong, something unshakeable. And now, with this moment, with his choice, it feels like you’re stepping into something even more solid. The future is still unknown, but for the first time, you’re no longer afraid of it.

“We’ll handle it. Together. Whatever comes, we face it together.”

There’s no hesitation in your voice, just a calm, tender conviction that makes his heart swell. You believe in him, in both of you, in this—whatever comes.

Beomgyu smiles, a sense of relief washing over him, as if a weight he didn’t even realize he was carrying has been lifted. “Yeah. We will.”

The silence that follows isn’t heavy. It’s full of understanding. You both took a leap of faith. There’s no going back now, and neither of you is afraid.

You lean in first, your lips brushing against his in a kiss that’s soft, slow, and lingering. It’s a promise, a quiet understanding of everything you’ve chosen, everything you will face together. When you pull away, Beomgyu’s hand cups your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, searching your eyes for any trace of doubt.

“We’re going to be okay, right?” His voice is quiet but sincere, filled with the kind of trust that makes your heart ache.

You smile, your eyes sparkling with affection and certainty. “We will be.”

And at that moment, you both know that the road ahead will be anything but easy. There will be obstacles and challenges. But together, you’ll face them. Because now, for the first time in so long, you’re not just surviving—you’re living together.

Beomgyu pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around you as you both settle back against the bed. The world outside might keep turning, keep shifting, but it doesn’t matter. You have each other. And that is enough.

Epilogue

The day Beomgyu decides to come clean about his relationship is chaotic, to say the least. It’s a decision he doesn’t take lightly, but one that he knows is inevitable. His team, however, is far from prepared. As soon as the news breaks, there’s a whirlwind of calls, meetings, and endless debates. His career, his image, the group’s future—they argue it all. But Beomgyu stands firm.

He’s aware of the risks. The fans, the media, the public—everything about his life will be under scrutiny. But for once, he refuses to let fear dictate his choices. This is his truth, his happiness, and he’s not going to hide it anymore.

Yeonjun, Taehyun, Soobin, and Kai support him all the same. They’ve seen the internal struggle he’s faced, and now they stand beside him, understanding that he’s choosing to be open, to face the consequences head-on. Despite the pressure, they rally around him, unwavering in their support.

After hours of difficult discussions, it becomes clear: Beomgyu’s decision stands. The agency will release an official statement.

--

“Hello, MOA, this is Beomgyu.

I’ve always tried to be open and real with you, and in turn, you’ve always shown me so much love and support. You’ve been with me through the highs and lows, and I can’t express enough how much that means to me.

Because you’ve always been so real with me, I want to do the same and share something important about my life. I’m in a relationship. It’s something that has brought me happiness and peace, and I want you to know that I’m truly content.

I understand this might come as a surprise to some, and there may be questions or feelings about it. But I want to assure you that I’m not sharing this to seek approval or to change anything about our connection. I’m sharing it because it feels right.

This relationship is something that makes me happy, and I believe it’s essential to be honest with you all, just as you’ve always been with me. I hope you can support me, as you always have, and understand that this is just another part of my journey.

I’m so grateful to each of you, and I’ll continue to give my all, not just to my work but to this connection I have with all of you. You’ve been my strength, and I’ll always be there for you, too.

Thank you for your understanding and love. I’m truly lucky to have you all by my side.

With all my heart,

Beomgyu.”

--

The aftermath isn’t easy. Rumors swirl, articles flood the media, and the scrutiny from the public is relentless. Yet through it all, Beomgyu doesn’t waver. And neither do his friends. Yeonjun, Taehyun, Soobin, and Kai all stand by him, united. They know his happiness comes first, and they’ve got his back, no matter what.

You are right there with them, offering the same unwavering support. You’re his rock in the storm, always grounding him. But you’re not just standing by him—you’re thriving in your own right. Despite the chaos surrounding your relationship, your career continues to soar. You lead new projects with the same passion and confidence that have always defined you. Whether you're presenting designs or making strategic moves, you do it all with an undeniable strength, showing the world that you’re as much of a force in your field as you are in your relationship.

Your resilience is contagious. Even in the face of media pressure, you handle it all with poise, refusing to let negativity seep into your life. You brush off the hurtful comments with the same humor and confidence you’ve always had, and your work only continues to flourish as you rise to the occasion, showing everyone that you won’t be defined by anyone else’s opinion.

At home, after long days of work, you still manage to keep things light. One evening, after yet another exhausting day, Beomgyu finds you lounging on the couch in your shared apartment. Your eyes are glued to your phone, a mischievous grin on your lips.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his tone light despite the exhaustion in his voice as he walks over to you.

You look up, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh, just some hilarious tweets about me,” you say nonchalantly, your grin widening. “Mean ones, mostly.”

Beomgyu raises an eyebrow, concerned. “Why are you even reading that stuff?”

You shrug, unfazed. “Why not? It’s entertaining. People can say whatever they want. But at the end of the day…” You pause, your eyes locking with his. “I’m the one who gets this delicious man called Choi Beomgyu.”

Beomgyu laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re impossible.”

You lean into him, nudging him playfully. “Come on, you know you love it.”

Beomgyu’s laughter softens, the tension of the past few days fading with the sound of your voice. Your ability to find humor in the chaos is a reminder that you both will get through this, no matter what. You’re always there to lift him up when things feel heavy.

“I really do,” he admits, his smile genuine. “But I don’t want you to be upset with them calling you names.”

“Don’t worry, Gyu. I won’t be. I am what I am, and I don’t give a fuck.” With a mischievous grin, you meet his gaze, your confidence radiating. “After all, the mouth that’s eating me out is not complaining.”

elle speaks⁴: im not used to make second parts and this one demanded a lot from me, but i hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading ♡

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction created by me. the characters of TOMORROW X TOGETHER and the song mentioned are used for creative purposes only. this story is not affiliated with BigHit Entertainment or TXT, and all content is fictional and does not reflect reality. the song “Stay” is owned by its creators and used here without profit.

© CHOIKANGHUENING 2024. do not plagiarize, translate and/or post on any other site. minors DO NOT INTERACT.

[kalpeavaris]

Jecka

Voice - Themesong - Toyhouse Profile - Pinterest

She'd be the person to look at the late 1990s/early 2000s and say "I was born in the wrong generation" B)

Anyway here's the finished design for my Jessa fankid, Jecka! Read more about her below the cut

Jecka's full name is Jessica, though she doesn't really like being called by it - it had the vibes of "mom's mad" whenever she gets called by her government name.

She's... quite the enigma. Due to Tessa's own code being tinted by her biological data (DNA, memories etc.) it had been quite difficult and straining to even get a compatible match with J in order to produce enough code for a UNN to be established. It took them 4 fails and 1 successful transfer to finally 'conceive' Jecka and even then it wasn't without isse..

Jecka frequently shuts down and has to be rebooted via another Drone's OS to get her starting again - mostly experienced whenever she's stressed or angry (high/intense emotions make her overheat easily... which is unfortunate seeing how much of a hot head she is).

During her later childhood/teenage years she struggled fairly hard with her existance, especially seeing how some folks in her age range would call her "mutt" due to her 'defective' code and the fact that one of her parents was a literal human before being transferred into her drone body. Jecka doesn't take lightly to this and had often beaten other kids up who insulted her or her parents, struggling to cope with the feeling of 'not belonging' or even being 'different' from her peers.

Her only true friends were and still are Angel and Becky, despite her and Angel butting heads from time to time. Jecka's relationship with her mom's is... strained, especially with J. Tessa's 100% her favourite parent and she mainly tries to stay around her while often argueing with J. As J struggles to break out of her cooperate-esque mindset and being very strict with their daughter, Jecka doesn't take well to this. Matching her mom's energy they often fought, even if J does love her daughter dearly.

This worsened when Jecka became aware that J has and is still somewhat struggling with the fact that Jecka shares not only relations (code) but also appearances with Cyn. Jecka doesn't acknowledge Cyn as some sort of parent, she's more like a... estranged aunt to her. They get along, but both sides just don't force interactions.

Despite everything Jecka's a "ride or die" kind of person/friend. She'd do anything for Becky and Angel, especially Angel - since she slowly finds herself developing a crush on them. She might be hot headed, but there's alot of hidden traits Jecka's afraid to openly show due to her fearing that it might be used against her. She only ever truely feels comfortable around Angel and her immediate family.

While Jecka can display the Solver emblem on her visor it's merely cosmetic. Similar to J and the other Disassembly Drones she's a dormant User - able of regeneration and cannot be controlled by Solver abilities like telekinesis, she cannot use it. J and Tessa made sure not to make her into a Solver User herself.

[rosealinie]

𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔅𝔲𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔯

ℭ𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔦𝔫 𝔐𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰 - 𝔚𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔶: ℜ𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔢

ℌ𝔲𝔰𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔘𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔵 𝔚𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔙𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰: 1/? ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔐 ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔱

--------------------------♱--------------------------------

ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1 - 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤

𝔑𝔢𝔵𝔱 ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯

--------------------------♱--------------------------------

ℑn the very heart of Victorian London, where cobblestone thoroughfares did teem with wayfaring souls of diverse station and age, there echoed the merry laughter of children as they did frolic, kicking a cherished sphere of leather. Couples and families did stroll, bearing their parcels with eyes aglow with the thrill of acquisition.

Amidst the vibrant tapestry of shops, there stood one solitary and enigmatic establishment, "𝔘𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔯," so it was inscribed. Herein, only those steeped in sorrow did venture—freshly bereaved widows and bastards alike sought solace within these somber walls. At the fore of the shop, a resplendent array of floral tributes did grace the entrance, whilst within, the true essence of a funeral parlor unfolded. Neatly arranged along the walls, coffins of various craftsmanship lay in repose, each adorned with a metal plate that bore the name of the wood, the price of the casket, and the nature of its design. All were polished to a gleam, as if cherished by hands long since departed.

In the very center of this solemn abode, more coffins were displayed, yet these were open caskets, revealing the exquisite linings of cotton, linen, silk, and velvet that did grace their interiors. A metal stand, sturdy and proud, did stand sentinel beside each casket, bearing forth the same inscriptions as those upon the walls, detailing the lineage of the wood, the cost of the final resting place, and the nature of its craftsmanship.

Thus, within this hallowed space, the air was thick with the weight of unspoken grief, a sanctuary for those who sought to honor the departed. The flickering light of candles cast gentle shadows upon the polished surfaces, whispering tales of lives once lived, now but memories entwined in the fabric of time. Here, amidst the somber elegance, the living did confront the inevitable, each detail a testament to the reverence held for those who had journeyed beyond the veil.

At the checkout counter, there lay a glass case of exquisite accessories, a veritable showcase of fine craftsmanship that did entice the eye. Within this transparent enclosure were displayed a myriad of treasures: delicate jewelry, timepieces of intricate design, eyepatches of varied hues, hats of all manner, bow ties, cosmetics, wigs, hair adornments, infant bibs, bonnets, and gloves, each a testament to artistry and elegance. Above each item, a small metal plate was stationed, imparting to the discerning customer the price, the nature of the metal or cloth, and the dimensions thereof.

Towards the rear of the establishment, a door stood resolutely closed to the public gaze, shrouded in an air of mystery. Before this portal rested a small cauldron, filled with water that danced with slices of lemon, orange, and lime, interspersed with fragrant blooms. Steam did rise from this vessel, yet the means by which it was heated remained an enigma, cloaked in the shadows of the shop.

Adorning the doorframe were clusters of flowers, artfully arranged to mask the dreaded scent of decay that might otherwise seep forth from the back room. Thus, only the sweet and refreshing aroma of floral and citrus did waft through the air, enveloping the front area in a pleasant embrace, a balm for the souls who ventured within.

Once upon a time, in an age long past, this establishment was deemed unfit for the public's eye, and yet, by some strange miracle, folk did venture forth regardless. The place was utterly besmirched, with spiderwebs festooning every corner, and dust cloaking every surface in a shroud of neglect. Coffins lay scattered haphazardly, whilst dreadful flasks filled with unsightly remnants cluttered the shelves of the building. The air was thick with a pungent odor, suffocating in its intensity, rendering the atmosphere most repugnant. Indeed, it was a sight most distasteful, though the aesthetic, to those with a peculiar eye, might have been deemed captivating—much like thyself, who found a strange allure in its grotesqueness, despite its revolting nature.

There be naught amiss in the ownership of a funeral parlor, yet for heaven's sake, one ought to maintain cleanliness and order! Thy husband, the undertaker of this establishment, had managed this abode alone for many a decade. The notion of such a venture had once seemed amusing to thee, yet it soon grew tiresome, and thus, for a time, thou didst refrain from participating in his labors.

However, upon a fateful day, thou didst decide to pay an unsuspecting visit, hoping to surprise thy beloved, for he had been in a state of melancholy that week, and thou wished to lift his spirits. Yet, what thou didst encounter was not the solemn dignity of a funeral parlor, but rather a veritable nest of vermin. What began as a visit filled with hopes of bringing a smile to thy love's countenance swiftly transformed into a full-fledged lecture on the virtues of cleanliness and organization.

For the fortnight that followed, thou and thy husband did labor diligently to render the parlor more presentable to the discerning public. Though the toil was arduous and the days long, thy husband’s countenance shone with joy at thy side, as if the very act of thy companionship had lifted his spirit from the depths of despair.

In witnessing the transformation of both the shop and thy beloved, a smile blossomed upon thy own visage, and it was in that moment of shared endeavor that thou didst resolve to join him in the stewardship of this establishment. Thus, it came to pass that the shop, once a haven of neglect, was lovingly restored to a state of care and dignity, reflecting the newfound harmony between thee and thy husband.

And so, it was through thy combined efforts that the parlor flourished, becoming a place not only of solemn farewells but also of warmth and camaraderie, where love and labor intertwined to create a sanctuary for those who sought solace in their time of grief. Thus, the tale of how thou didst come to work alongside thy husband in this noble pursuit was woven into the very fabric of the shop, a testament to the power of love and partnership in the face of life’s inevitable sorrows

[voidcrystalline]

Loossemble Profiles

Subject Name: Olivia Hye (formerly “Hyeju” while in Loossemble and, formerly to that, again Olivia Hye while in Loona)

Acquisition: CTDENM disbanded Loossemble due to lack of popularity in all markets, citing competition with ARTMS and other former-Loona solo acts. Subject offered for sale to compensate for losses incurred during promotional periods. Forceful capture required after subject attempted escape and mildly injured two personnel.

Containment: Subject retains violent tendencies. Restraints still highly recommended during all interaction, though may be removed while alone, as subject avoids harm to self. Subject's attacks are only physical in nature, with seemingly no interest in verbalizing, so no hearing protection is recommended. Oral penetration inadvisable due to necessary oral restraints obscuring unique features.

Features: “Triangle mouth,” uncommonly large breasts, uncommonly wide hips, quiet demeanor (please continue to note containment recommendations despite), dark skin tone, and some small tattoos.

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, no cosmetic, and no designer.

Specialties: Titjob and other similar non-penetrative activities, pet play [dangerous]

Designer Comments: Minimal modifications made as multiple highly unique features make the subject a fascinating conversation piece, as might natural, exotic wood furniture. Perhaps unsuitable as a decorative centerpiece for safety reasons, however. Easily provoked by some uncommon means (ex. using the name “Olivia”), but does not respond much to standard forms of humiliation or pain, so will likely not be especially entertaining for such activities. Subject is, however, particularly well-suited for activities involving rough physical contact thanks to a higher than average volume of fatty tissue to act as natural cushioning.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Yeojin

Acquisition: CTDENM disbanded Loossemble due to lack of popularity in all markets, citing competition with ARTMS and other former-Loona solo acts. Subject offered for sale to compensate for losses incurred during promotional periods. No notable resistance from subject.

Containment: Subject is mostly passive and does not possess necessary strength or mass to pose any physical threat, but has been known to occasionally verbally assault personnel, even unprovoked. Gags recommended but not required. These outbursts and the intelligence displayed in them may indicate a desire and ability to escape, however. Locks recommended until and if outbursts become extremely infrequent. Windows should be extra small and/or have lower sills no fewer than sixty-six inches to surfaces.

Features: Uncommonly small height, disproportionally large breasts for height and mass, demonstrated preference for nudity, occasionally sharp wit, and some small tattoos.

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, mild bulking, and elasticity increase.

Specialties: Oral, exhibition, dirty talk

Designer Comments: Subject serves as an excellent travel-friendly option for sexual relief. Furthermore, she makes for excellent conversation with those of lower stations, who often find her brand of humor and crude language to be especially entertaining. She has surprisingly few reservations regarding sexual activity with any sort as well, making the aforementioned interactions even more productive if they are so inclined as to request her service. It may be tempting to keep such a pretty, petite slave to yourself, and it is in fact quite possible, but don't forget that she will be quite useful for greasing social wheels.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Gowon

Acquisition: CTDENM disbanded Loossemble due to lack of popularity in all markets, citing competition with ARTMS and other former-Loona solo acts. Subject offered for sale to compensate for losses incurred during promotional periods. Subject seemed unusually eager to submit to slavery.

Containment: No notable requirements for containment. Subject has been presented with extremely simple and complex escape options on many occasions, but has expressed no interest in escape.

Features: Enthusiasm, mildly exotic appearance, easily earned loyalty, unusual vocal timbre.

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, very mild breast augmentation for size, and no designer.

Specialties: Worship, non-contact performance, general submission

Designer Comments: Subject has presented no indicators of rebellion, from acquisition to current containment, and has in fact regularly expressed desire for direction. It is only with great personal disappointment that I acknowledge that she is prepared for sale, as she has frankly been a delight to work with. Rest assured that not only will your instructions be followed to the best of the subjects abilities (which are admittedly not always perfect but are certainly enthused), but she will be proactive in attempts to please you. I sincerely hope that you enjoy your purchase.

☆☆☆

Subject Name: Hyunjin

Acquisition: CTDENM disbanded Loossemble due to lack of popularity in all markets, citing competition with ARTMS and other former-Loona solo acts. Other members of Loossemble offered for sale to compensate for losses incurred during promotional periods. Subject was offered separately once debts had been settled for unknown reasons. Subject did not object at the time and did not resist.

Containment: Since initial acquisition, subject has expressed some mild displeasure in response to containment and has displayed some interest in escape options presented, but has not acted upon these. No special containment methods recommended. Simple locks should suffice.

Features: Dulled expressiveness, uncommonly large glutes, and sluggish demeanor.

Modifications: Standard preservative modifications made post-acquisition, medication for pre-existing condition (requires yearly renewal, free of charge in-office), no cosmetic, no designer (see comments for designer suggestion).

Specialties: Silent company, pet play (feline), quickies

Designer Comments: Subject has strange behavioral patterns that could be cause for some mild concern, so it is recommended to get a containment procedure reevaluation whenever returning for medication renewal. These same behaviors, however, do lend themselves well to pet play. Subject makes for an excellent, and amusingly realistic cat to a degree that she may be more appropriate as an actual family pet than merely playing a role for sexual gratification. If that's not your style, she is still of course capable of standard sexual performance. Most notably, the subject has displayed exceptional and diversified skill while taking the “male” role in sexual encounters, when provided with appropriate devices. This, combined with her proclivity to surrendering to sexual pleasure, lead me to suggesting the addition of a biologically attached phallus, whether for your own pleasure or to expand your options with other slaves or partners. Even if you are aesthetically inclined to entirely replace her gynecological organs with it rather than use our futanari treatment, the subject's anus is naturally quite elastic, so there should never be a time when you find yourself without a hole to penetrate.

☆☆☆

Name: Vivi (Note that Hong Kong legal standards require legal names to be used in official slavery documentation for the time frame before sale to final owner is concluded. Use of the term “subject” is unallowed. Apologies for any confusion this may cause within your localized documentation.)

Acquisition: CTDENM disbanded Loossemble due to lack of popularity in all markets, citing competition with ARTMS and other former-Loona solo acts. Vivi, as a former member of Loossemble, was offered for sale to compensate for losses incurred during promotional periods. Per court investigation, Vivi fled South Korea in an attempt to evade capture, but was found in her homeland two months later. Vivi offered no meaningful resistance once found.

Containment: Since initial acquisition, Vivi has expressed some mild displeasure in response to containment and has displayed some interest in escape options presented, but has not acted upon these. No special containment methods recommended. Simple locks should suffice. Additional external security may be advisable, as there are a few former contacts of Vivi's who may still have some interest in aiding an escape, though any attempting can be prosecuted in Hong Kong under Code 514 v3, Subsection 1317 CH.

Features: Mildly exotic appearance, potentially politically relevant, quiet demeanor, noted lack of concern for modesty 

Modifications: Due to legal standards of Hong Kong, modifications may not be made to any slave without direct approval from final owner. Therefore, standard preservative modifications have NOT been made to Vivi, nor have cosmetic/designer modifications.

Specialties: Conversation, accompaniment

Designer Comments: I am prevented by law from providing any direct suggestion or discussing lascivious matters in official documentation which will be stored in Hong Kong about their citizens, current or former. I do recommend, however, our standard preservative modifications for any slave you may purchase. On an unrelated note, I have made some observations. Vivi puts forth great effort to provide comfort to her same-gendered colleagues, which is commendable. Vivi spends more than eight hours sleeping every night, a habit which is highly unlikely to be a problem. And Vivi has more tongues than expected (apologies if that is an imperfect translation of Vivi's linguistic abilities). I'm afraid my skill in conveying meaning appropriately has failed here. If you have any questions about further observations, please feel free to visit my office with a translator of Vivi's exact caliber.

[mensfactory]

1954 Chevy Corvette C1

The origins of this prototype, which is known by its S.O. 2151 serial number, date back to early 1953, before the ‘Vette had even gone into production.

It’s one of 15 cars with a single-piece fiberglass body that were built for testing or display at GM Motorama. This example debuted in early 1954 as a pale-yellow hard-top, after which it was retired and sent to GM’s storied Art and Colour department for use as a proposal car.

Under the supervision of legendary designer Harley Earl, the car would end up being used as a design prototype for the 1955 Corvette, which was due to get a makeover to go with its new, optional V-8.

The vehicle’s body features several stylistic changes, including a new egg-crate front grille, a decorative hood scoop, slanted front-fender vents, bumper-exit exhaust tips, and a trunk like that found on the fastback Corvair.

The convertible, which is powered by an inline-six and finished in Bermuda Green, is a beauty, but as Corvette buffs know, GM executives decided to hold off for a year and then go in a more muscular direction withIt’s unclear what happened to the S.O. 2151 after GM passed on it, but at some point during the 1960s it fell into private ownership with most of its unreleased cosmetic features removed. In 1975, it was purchased for $3,000 by George F. Campbell, who bought it based on the advice of Corvette historian Noland Adams.

Campbell then spent the next four decades researching the prototype and collecting parts so that it could be restored to its 1954 appearance and specification. Unfortunately, Campbell passed away before this could happen, but its current owner had the car restored back to its original glory late last decade.

The car has only been displayed once since then, at this year’s Amelia Concours d’Elegance, where it received the prestigious Founder Award. the 1956 model.

[soulofjuche]

National Industrial Art Exhibition Opens

Pyongyang, April 9 (KCNA) -- A national industrial art exhibition for celebrating April 15, the birthday of President Kim Il Sung, opened with due ceremony at the Industrial Art Exhibition House of the Central Industrial Art Bureau on April 8.

On display at the venue of the exhibition are photos of the respected Comrade Kim Jong Un giving field guidance at various sectors of the national economy.

Displayed at the exhibition on the theme of "New era of great change and industrial art" were 590-odd industrial art designs of various kinds personally guided by Kim Jong Un, over 800 designs and models produced by experts, students and fans, products presented by more than 30 production units including the Sinuiju Cosmetics Factory and the Ryuwon Footwear Factory, books related to industrial art and multimedia.

Present at the opening ceremony were officials concerned and officials and creators in the field of industrial art.

An opening address was made.

[magnolia-sunrise]

i totally get if it was done for Artistic Effect and whatnot, but your last series got me wondering: does wolfgang's skin have "seams" for ease of peeling it back in certain areas, or do the usual surgical-type incisions need to be made? also now that i'm thinking of android skin apparently, is the inclusion of their skin a cosmetic thing to liken them more to humans, or does it serve a more functional purpose? how operable is an android if they lose a significant amount of skin? (body horror brain go brrrrr)

ohoho thank you once again for a treat of a question!! im hoping to pick up these rambles and put them into a more digestible, comprehensible bite sized pieces of illustrated lore but for now-

so, in older conceptual designs i was playing with idea of sort of "plating" or like, accessible panels and seams. but that proved to be too sterile and not perverted enough for what i wanted to do with this world and story and so - their skin is trying to imitate the look and function of human skin.

to get inside - incisions have to be made, or the skin can be torn into, and ideally sealed back up with tiny dissolving stitches or special glue, to prevent scarring. the skin is the one part of android bodies that is somewhat more easily reproducible and replacable (it can still be very expensive depending on the damage). it has basic self healing functions, most of them helped by the substance that passes as their blood. they're also made in a way that allows them to bruise, bleed and blush (not sweat though). Wolf makes it look nonchalant, but they are under a certain amount of pain and discomfort when they're "peeled", cutting into the skin and removing it is painful - but they are a freak so don't take their example as the norm.

(the artistic element tends to be whether i add the blood coming from the wounds or not, and it fully depends on how stylized and removed from reality im making a specific piece. blood has two unfortunate elements which is it would cover up the artificial muscle thats such a pain to draw, and also it tends to remind people of the horror of the body. i tend to forego it when its more anatomical style illustration or showing off the body, and include it the most when its either serving its body horror purpose, or -my favorite - when its a complement and contrast to romantic feelings or gestures on display :") )

how much skin can they lose before they become inoperable? its similar to blood loss, or any other more serious injury - while the body is technically okay to continue functioning for as long as the main processing unit is not completely separated or its energy sources are not drained, the brain will send a signal to shut down as soon as it perceives the damage to be too much. meaning a normal android would go into shock and shut down mode if they take too much damage and pain too quickly. depending on their situation*, their body can then send a gps retrieval signal as basically a call for help. (but this is not something everyone is equipped with or authorities would necessarily respond to. ) (* more on that later)

and then theres Wolfgang, who we have established is a freak in more ways than one. they have a lot of trust issues about anyone being in their head, and they stay up conscious through surgery. they can also withstand a lot more pain, bloodloss and injury than an "average" android. the" why" is twofold; partially they were literally built different for the work they did before becoming bonafide social reject and private investigator/vigilante, partially the event that ended that line of work (and had them trapped and tortured for a decade until their escape) included the persons responsible fumbling in their brain and 'settings' to make sure they would withstand those years of torture wide awake. this is a roundabout way of saying i think Wolf could go at it skinless if they really had to, they've been through worse :" ) (and to put it plainly, these days, after being able to physically transition and change their body - displaying parts of it, having them be touched or seen consensually by someone they trust brings them pleasure also through the feeling of reclamation of the ownership of their self and body)

[morganeactually]

The mesmerizing visual aesthetic of the clip "Crushing" by Eartheater

The late 90s vibe of the clip "Crushing" by Eartheater, directed by Andrew Thomas Huang, is reminiscent of cosmetics and fragrance commercials from that era. The music video features decadent mirrored rooms and performance vignettes. The camera work is dynamic : moving constantly, it never reveals a full portrait of the artist until late in the piece, adding a sense of mystery and excitement throughout. Eartheater's clothes, blending futuristic elements with organic designs, accentuate the ethereal, surreal and otherworldy atmosphere of her video.

One of the standing out elements is the symbolism behind Eartheater's interactions with glassware. The latter represents both fragility and transformation. By forming, drinking from and even shattering the glass with her voice, Eartheater explores the themes of vulnerability, consumption and the breaking of barriers.

The lyrics of the song evoke the opposite ideas of destruction and creation, with lines like "You're the flame melting sand into glass" and "You're the glass holding the wine." The glass symbolizes the process of change and the dualism of beauty and destruction.

When Eartheater shatters the glass with her voice, she shows how something beautiful (like glass or a powerful vocal performance) can lead to destruction. The beauty of art and life is associated with the construction of glass, meant to be fragile and breakable. This powerful visual metaphor highlights the ephemeral nature of beauty. Surprisingly, the artist rather sees destruction as a renewal than a downfall because its cathartic power enables new forms of beauty to emerge and transformation to happen.

The way Eartheater uses her voice to break the glass epitomizes both the breaking of barriers and the creation of beauty from destruction. This impressive display of her vocal range and artistic vision leaves a lasting impact long after the song ends.

Here is Eartheater's Crushing BTS Instagram post, giving fans a glimpse into the creative process and the artistry that went into the production of the clip. By sharing it, the artist provides transparency and allows them to appreciate her hard work, creating a deeper connection with her audience.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Trinity Vigorsky (@eartheater)

[angeliqueiguess]

Focus! (Character Endings) Pt.2

(must read after reading the fic)

Ten Lee

After the success and growth of NeoMagazine, Ten decided to return to his home country, Thailand. There, he spent some time sharing his knowledge and passion by offering professional makeup courses. During this period, an unexpected opportunity transformed his life: the creation of his own makeup line, "Chitta Cosmetics." The brand became a reflection of his artistic vision and deep connection to his roots. It didn’t take long for Chitta Cosmetics to gain recognition, and soon, Ten found himself competing and collaborating with industry giants like Maybelline, solidifying his place as a prominent figure in the beauty world.

On a personal level, Ten never lost touch with his best friend, Y/n, whom he cherished deeply. Despite their busy schedules and the changes in their lives, he always made time to celebrate her successes, proud to see her thriving, happy, and healthy. Though the dynamics had shifted since the days when they all worked together, Ten treasured every moment they spent together. He never forgot where he came from or the value of the friendships that shaped him. Humility and loyalty remained central to who he was, even as he achieved remarkable things.

Mark Lee

After the growth of NeoMagazine, Mark let his creativity run wild in the urban fashion scene, creating not just innovative outfits but also collaborating with designers and producing pieces so exceptional they could have been displayed in a museum. His brand, "127", quickly gained traction, and soon, big-name rappers and music artists became his clients, rocking his designs at major events and on stage.

On a personal note, Mark kept uploading his freestyles and original songs to his secret SoundCloud, where he shared his music without the pressure of fame. For a while, his music career felt more like a side project, but everything changed when one of his followers went viral with one of his early mixtapes. This boosted his visibility, and soon millions of people were asking for a full album. Mark eventually delivered on that demand, launching his debut album, which became a major success. Now, Mark was rubbing shoulders with top rappers and artists worldwide, forming important partnerships in both music and fashion. He not only solidified himself as a rising star in the music industry but also became one of the few rappers creating 100% custom designer pieces. By blending his love for fashion and rap, he carved out a unique and successful niche for himself.

Nakamoto Yuta

After NeoMagazine’s growth, Yuta focused his efforts on further expanding the magazine and other ventures in his native Japan. His expertise and vision led him to teach business and statistics, not only in Japan but across various countries in Asia. Through these classes, he inspired a new generation of entrepreneurs. His practical approach and ability to connect with people earned him a reputation as a trusted leader in the business world.

On a personal level, while Yuta had firmly established himself as a successful businessman, life had unexpected plans for him. His charisma and natural presence landed him a supporting role in a Japanese film—a project he initially saw as a fun new challenge. However, his performance caught the attention of a well-known director who stumbled upon the movie by chance. Impressed by Yuta’s talent, the director offered him a lead role in his next feature film. Balancing both worlds, Yuta discovered a newfound passion for acting without stepping away from his business pursuits. His debut as a leading actor was a hit, propelling him into the spotlight of the film industry. Now, Yuta is not only a respected businessman but also a rising actor, proving that embracing unexpected opportunities can lead to extraordinary paths.

—-

Focus Masterlist // Main Masterlist

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Taglist: @apolloxxivmin @aerivrs @chan-yeoldelling @livingdoll-hara @cryingforjae @heavenjae @milanco @sibwol @neocupidd @minkyuncutie @miniature-tragedy @kukkurookkoo @kodasity @injunnie-lemon @thegracerammy @hahaechans @illitzen @pandagirl753 @flamingi

[haggishlyhagging]

Lipstick, then, may be considered the first cosmetic: "Among the Dieri and other Australian tribes, menstruating women were marked with red paint round the mouth, while among the tribes of Victoria a menstruating woman is painted red from the waist up. Among Tapuga tribes of Brazil and on the Gold Coast of Africa, she is also painted red." Among the Cheyenne, at her first menstruation a girl was painted red all over her body and secluded for four days in a special little lodge. In China, formerly, a woman customarily put a red mark in the middle of her forehead to signal that she was menstruating, and also as a cosmetic.

Pregnancy, childbirth, and nursing were also special states designated with red paint. The Kaffir and many other tribal women painted their bodies with red ocher when they were pregnant. Pregnancy and childbirth are numinous phases of life, but it was because of the creative/decreative powers specifically accruing to women's blood that the use of red signaling during pregnancy and lactation gave women enormous powers of restraint over men and the spacing of childbearing. In some tribes, by using paint women might signal "no sex" for six or seven years at a time, while they continued nursing. More usual was the period of three years used by Nigerian women of the eighteenth century, who kept their bodies smeared with red earth throughout the entire period as a public announcement that they were bearing, nursing, or weaning a child.

One meaning of the blood signals was surely reassurance: "It's safe to look at me now," or "I'm old enough to bleed, but I'm not doing it right now," or "Now I'm available for sex or marriage." Among other peoples the red marks meant danger, keep away, not sexually available at this time: "Don't look at me." Mouth marking and paint was a display not only of the female power to bleed, but of a range of complex signals meaning "come here" or "stay away".

All the earliest cosmetics—menstrual blood, slashed blood, and tattoos of blue or red lines suggestive of blood on the face—must have enabled women to free themselves from some of the severest world-forming taboos. Most of the complex taboos would have remained intact in the initial major rite of menarche, but more minor ones would mark all the menstrual periods after the first. Western reporters noticed that the strict seclusions of the menstruant were being replaced in the nineteenth century by milder menstrual signals, such as a brightly colored scarf, face paint, a special apron or ring, or even a smoking pipe clenched in her teeth.

Whole peoples in older times studied the color red through body use. Some completely painted their bodies red (the "Red Clay People" of the eastern United States). They tattooed themselves from head to foot (Scotland, Canada, Borneo). They plastered their hair with ocher and grease, with thick red clay (South America, Africa), or stained their teeth red (Southeast Asia, South Pacific, South America), or painted and dyed their hair, hands, and feet with henna (India, Middle East, North Africa, Europe). Even now, when menstrual rite has largely vanished, women continue to paint their cheeks and lips red to impart vitality, health, sexual desirability, and self respect.

-Judy Grahn, Blood, Bread, and Roses: How Menstruation Created the World