#second for production design and shooting

[plexiglassonion]

I wonder how much preproduction is currently going on for the beatles biopics. Have they started anything at all really is what I wanna know more broadly. Any lines of dialogue, any research on the characterisation approaches, literally any visualisations like concept art or moodboards. Is any crew being assembled or considered? Convos with paul ringo yoko and olivia? what the fuck is a dating cadence Mr mendes??

[followingthebutterflies7]

Better Chug That Mountain Dew

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: Spencer flies to New York to see your Broadway debut as Veronica in Heathers. He thinks he’s prepared, but he couldn’t be more wrong.

Warnings: Jealousy, suggestive content, strong language.

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Spencer had always supported you. He had been with you long before your name started showing up on cast lists with lead roles beside it.

He was with you when you were still doing side characters and bit parts, juggling Smosh shoots and auditions and late-night table reads. He’d been there when you flubbed your lines during a cold read, when your callback got canceled last minute, when you cried on his couch because you thought maybe you just weren’t cut out for this.

And he had celebrated with you when you landed your first commercial gig, sat with you when you nervously paced the green room waiting for an off-Broadway callback. Always in your corner. Always proud.

And now here you were.

Veronica Sawyer. In a full Broadway production of Heathers. A proper stage. A real audience. You had made it.

He was the first person you called when you landed the role. And the first to scream. He had gotten you flowers, a handwritten card full of awful inside jokes, two Mountain Dew Kickstarts to celebrate together, and one line at the end that said: “You’re gonna blow the roof off, V.”

You told him about everything. About moving to New York, the panic of signing a lease, the chaos of rehearsals. Every phone call was a play-by-play: the set design, the costumes, how your choreographer nearly cried during the first full run-through.

You sent him shaky videos from tech rehearsal, FaceTimed him in full costume, left voice memos rambling about how terrifying and beautiful it all was.

He listened to every one. Saved most of them.

And when you finally said, “Opening night’s in two weeks. Come if you can,” he didn’t hesitate.

He bought the ticket the same day.

Now he was here to see opening night.

He’d been proud. So proud.

But he’d also been warned.

By you. By Courtney. By Angela. Even by Shayne, who read the libretto once and handed Spencer a sticky note with the words: “Don’t get weird during Dead Girl Walking.”

Spencer, at the time, had scoffed.

“Please. I’ve seen them flirt with demons in Smosh sketches. I can handle Heathers.”

He thought he was prepared.

Thought knowing the lyrics, the plot, and the choreography would be enough. You’d told him everything; you’d called him after every rehearsal, shared backstage gossip, sent him snippets of songs, and described scenes in painful detail, all in an effort to prepare your man.

And he said he could handle it.

He really thought he could.

Right up until opening night.You’d met him for a quick dinner and a drink before the show. You only had water, to stay hydrated, and he had a much needed Kickstart after a bumpy flight. You’d teased him about it for years. His one true vice, second only to you.

You looked radiant in that chaos of the evening; focused, lit up from the inside. The kind of glow that didn’t come from makeup or lighting. The kind of glow that only came from doing what you loved and knowing you were meant to do it.

You kissed him quickly outside the theater, laughing as you turned to leave, promising to see him after curtain.

Spencer watched you go, heart full.

And then the show started.

He slid into his seat, front row, aisle, black button-up, trying to play it cool. The Playbill in one hand. A bouquet of your favorite flowers in the other.

From the first number, he was done for.

You weren’t just performing, you were transforming. Veronica’s words, her emotions, her anger, her heartbreak, every part of her lived in you. You disappeared into the character.

He had the biggest smile on his face, until it started slipping.

He watched those two dumb jocks hit on you, watched them hover, flirt, touch. Watched you laugh. In character, yes, but Spencer’s hand gripped the edge of his seat all the same.

His smile twitched slightly in Fight For Me.

You were singing to JD, eyes soft, vulnerable. Reaching out.

Hey

Could you hold my hand?

And could you carry me through no man's land?

You grabbed JD’s hand.

Spencer flexed his hands. Smile gone.

Then came Freeze Your Brain.

JD sang to you like you were the only person in the world. Got in your space. Pressed a Slurpee to your lips. You sipped.

Spencer’s jaw tensed. Hard.

Go on and freeze your brain

Try it

He was seething. In the prettiest, most tightly wound way imaginable.

The moment the blue lighting spilled across the stage, he felt it, this low, humming sense of doom building in his chest. He knew what was coming, you had told him about this song so many times before.

The one scene Spencer had tried so hard to mentally prepare for.

But nothing could’ve prepared him for this.

It started quiet. Innocent.

You were alone on stage.

You could feel the energy in the room change. The audience buzzed with anticipation. Spencer sat up straight, every nerve ending on fire.

You started the number with fire in your eyes. He’d never seen you so alive. So in control.

The demon queen of high school has decreed it

She says Monday, 8 a.m., I will be deleted

They'll hunt me down in study hall

Stuff and mount me on the wall

30 hours to live, how shall I spend them?

You prowled across the stage like it belonged to you. Because it did. And Spencer’s pulse kicked up in response.

I don't have to stay and die like cattle

I could change my name and ride up to Seattle

But I don't own a motorbike

Wait.

Here's an option that I like

Spend these 30 hours gettin' freaky, yeah

The lights shifted again.

There was a bed.

JD on the bed.

Spencer leaned forward in his seat without realizing.

I need it hard

I'm a dead girl walking

I'm in your yard

I'm a dead girl walking

Before they punch my clock

I'm snappin' off your window lock

Got no time to knock, I'm a dead girl walking

You crossed the stage slowly, deliberately. The choreography was sensual, full of bravado and desperation. Your voice wrapped around the lyrics with dangerous intent.

You stalked JD, your hands sliding up his arms slowly. Deliberately. Spencer’s eyes widened.

Sorry, but I really had to wake you

See, I decided I must ride you 'til I break you

'Cause Heather says I got to go

You're my last meal on death row

Shut your mouth and lose them tighty-whities

You shoved JD back onto the mattress. Climbed into his lap. JD’s hand slid to your waist.

Spencer’s blood boiled.

Then JD ripped open your blouse. You tossed it dramatically to the side, matching the beat. The crowd gasped. Spencer stopped breathing.

He knew it was acting. He knew the show. Knew this scene.

But knowing and watching were two very different things.

You looked so real. Your hands, your breath, your grin, it wasn’t timid. It wasn’t “sorry, this is for the part.” It was bold.

And then you kissed JD. Hard. Deep. Hands in his hair. Spencer’s eye twitched.

His nails dug into the Playbill in his lap.

He could feel his knee bouncing, jaw locked so tight it ached.

The lighting turned red. Hellfire.

Then, the line.

You turned slightly toward the audience. The spotlight caught your face just right.

Your voice is crystal clear, every lyric dropping like a challenge.

And in the middle of it, in that exact moment, your gaze snapped to the front row.

Right to him.

You held his eyes.

A single second. Maybe two.

And you sang it.

“Better chug that Mountain Dew.”

He stared, slack-jawed.

And when your lips curled into the faintest smirk, he nearly blacked out.

Because that line? That line was a direct hit.

That line was sacred.

He had once said in passing that the only thing he’d marry before you was a cold Kickstart at 9 a.m., and now here you were; mocking, seducing, owning him with five words.

He hadn’t even realized how tense he was until then. Not until those five words punched him in the chest.

Everyone knew he loved that stupid drink. You especially.

You turned back to JD like it was nothing.

He didn’t hear the rest of the song. He saw movement, saw you ducking down to your scene partner for another kiss, but all he could focus on was the electric buzz under his skin, and the fire in your eyes when you looked at him like that.

Someone seated next to him noticed how agitated he was and leaned over. “Are you good?”

“No,” he said, eyes still locked on you. “Not even a little.”

Because it wasn’t just the acting. It wasn’t the choreography. It was you. Performing like your life depended on it. You were electric. Unapologetic. On fire.

And the way you looked at him?

Like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Like you were daring him to do something about it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way your hips moved, how your voice hit every note like a weapon, how JD’s hands had lingered for far too long.

He wanted the show to end.

He wanted the curtain to fall.

He wanted you.

--------------------------------------------------------

Backstage after curtain call, you barely made it to the dressing room before your phone buzzed.

SPENCER:

Hope you’re ready to wrap this show with an encore.

At home.

No lights, no audience.

Just you and me.

You laughed, a little breathless. Warm. Buzzing from adrenaline and applause and him.

A knock.

You opened the door.

Spencer stood there, arms crossed. Eyes burning.

“Hi,” you said sweetly. “Did you enjoy the show?”

His eyes dragged down, slow. Then back up.

“Don’t ‘hi’ me.”

You blinked, still smiling. “What?”

“You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Did I?” you asked, batting your lashes. “I was just playing the role.”

Three steps. That’s all it took.

He closed the distance, voice low and sharp.

“I don’t know if I want to marry you or strangle you.”

You blinked. “That good, huh?”

“You made eye contact with me. During that line.”

“Yep.”

“That wasn’t in the choreography.”

“I improvised.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear.

“Tonight, you’re my dead girl walking.”

You shivered.

“I meant it, by the way,” you said softly, stepping closer. “I knew exactly where you were sitting.”

He looked at you like he wanted to tear the world apart just to get you closer.

“You’re evil.”

You tilted your head, all fake innocence. “And you love it.”

His hands slid to your waist. His breath hit your jaw.

“I’m driving us home,” he murmured. “And when we get there, you’re gonna repeat every word you sang tonight.”

“Oh?”

“But this time,” he growled, “you won’t be pretending who it’s for.”

You smiled.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

He didn’t wait another second.

[little-one-eyed-monsters]

Hot take (from a film nerd): GMMTV's BL series Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist FAILED because the company DESIGNED it that way.

And this isn't the first time GMMTV has doomed its own productions in order to fund bigger projects. This is actually a common industry tactic, formally called Cannibalizing.

Btw, video above is of Mark Pakin, lead actor of the series, sharing his thoughts about the market failure of his show and how he's dealing with the loss.

Anyway, let me explain my point above:

When large media conglomerates manage to corner a market with a particular genre/format that other companies haven't done before (or are slow in adapting), they do one of two things: 1) they saturate the market with content to eliminate competition, or 2) they experiment with their chosen genre in order to fit it into other markets and fanbases.

Both options require a large capital, but generate great profit once done successfully. For longevity however, companies opt for the second option, as product sustainability in media is dictated by the size of the fanbase.

For example, WeTV, a giant Chinese media company owned by Tencent, has a corner on the Chinese Costume Drama market (formally known as Xianxia- fantasty/supernatural, and Wuxia- martial arts dramas):

Though other Chinese companies produce similar shows, few competitors have the ability to churn out this type of content as long and as frequent as WeTV can. They produce so many shows in this genre, many of them are actually installments of previous franchises. Some of them even belong into one universe (ala Marvel or DC).

But what happens when a market is saturated? Audiences lose interest. And though it is highly ignorant of me to claim that there is no longer a market for Chinese Costume dramas (as there absolutely is a market for it), the interest cools, especially for new talents. In 2017, they tried to adapt Chinese novels only, in order to secure an automatic fanbase of past readers, but even that failed to fuel interest. They could either keep on hiring the same actors for their shows to sustain the fanbase, or...

Branch out:

The Untamed was a risk no large company in China at the time would dare to do. It's not the first danmei (xianxia boy's love) adaptation in the country, but it was the first from a conglomerate with enough money to shoot, produce, and market one properly. And spend money they did. After paying HEFTY fines to get it out of censorship limbo (it took almost a year and a half post production before the series saw any kind or airtime), paying for re-shoots to make certain scenes less homosexually-suggestive, paying dubbers and translators to dub lines that the censorship board found too risque, and even allegedly paying original author MXTX additional royalties for violating contract obligations once they changed the story, the series finally debuted to a limited WeTV VIP audience.

But the gamble paid off. The Untamed became the most watched series in China to this day, syndicated by over 13 media distributors and translated into at least 10 languages, while boasting a viewership of 10 billion around the world according to Netflix. WeTV was also able to invade other Asian markets through The Untamed, establishing tentative branches (particularly in Boys' Love productions) in Thailand, Taiwan, Japan, and the Philippines, among others.

WeTV successfully branched out of Xianxia/Wuxia by tapping a fanbase and genre ripe for viewership. But in order to pay for the sheer cost of getting The Untamed to air, they cannibalized these very genres to earn funding.

What this means is that they DOUBLED their production of low-budget Xianxia/Wuxia dramas within a year, to encourage fans to spend money on merch and sponsors to support their artists. These shows often shared the same sets, costumes, cast and crew at no additional cost, had to stick to rigid schedules with no resources for reshoots, and spent very little time on post prod, so that fans can watch shows at once and focus more on buying merch. These shows also often compromised plot and storytelling--instead banking on clichè themes of romance and heroism just to generate enough fans to turn a profit. These cannibalized shows weren't meant to make artists or the project famous-- they're so cheap to make they practically share a budget with a dozen other shows-- instead, the extra profit goes to the projects WeTV is banking for success. Hence shows like The Untamed.

No shade at all to The Untamed. This show holds a special place in my heart. But the way WeTV handled this production, and the backlash on the cast and crew that they failed to mitigate, will always be one of the worst sins they have as a media conglomerate.

(They also better not bungle SmartBoom's marketing, since they're shaping up to make these two their Thai golden goose. Do not disappoint us twice WeTV)

So, is GMMTV doing the same thing?

Oh, ABSOLUTELY. They've been doing it FOR YEARS:

This is a list of the most-watched GMMTV BLs on Youtube as of 2024. Notice that apart from around four shows, all shows listed here are school-set BLs (and this is debateable, since the four exceptions feature characters who are also school-aged, but the story doesn't necessarily revolve around university). Though GMMTV doesn't have a corner on the BL genre (since all media companies in Thailand produce BLs), they HAVE saturated the genre of school-set BLs.

But they are trying to branch out, because they NEED TO. KinnPorsche AND Cutie Pie absolutely decimating their competition in 2022 just proved to GMMTV that they already lost their stronghold on queer media. They released Only Friends to ride the wave of sex-heavy shows, but they couldn't commit to the demand and would eventually lose out to MeMindY and Mandee. They tried fielding a new supernatural genre in My Golden Blood, but the second season of Pit Babe is turning out to be the more polished execution of an out- of-the-box concept.

But they NEED to keep trying, or else they'll lose the market completely. This is why they've recalled their three original pillars back into the fold- KristSingto, TayNew, and OffGun, who are all set to air shows within this quarter. They've shaken up their management, and are swapping out branded pairs willy-nilly in order to find the best combination of chemistry and appeal.

And lastly, they're cannibalizing their own shows in order to fund bigger, more bankable, heavy-hitters.

What's worse is that they even cannibalized one of their most bankable pairs, OffGun, in The Trainee:

whose show profits were rumored to have paid for the expensive franchising rights to Ossan's Love and My Love Mix-Up. GMM apparently did not anticipate how strict Japanese IP could be, and sustained considerable losses for their TayNew adaptation of Cherry Magic.

Rumor on X also has it that the show boycott of Chinese fans, triggered by the dissolution of the OhmNanon pair, also inflicted major market share losses for GMM. This is why they're trying to court Korean fans instead with their upcoming adaptation of Scarlet Heart Ryo.

Poor Mark. It really wasn't his fault.

Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist was a tonally-off production from the beginning, even with my favorite Thai director P'Pepzi (of My Stand-In fame) at the helm. The scenes were haphazardly-cut, the pacing was either too fast or too slow at times, and the set designs and costumes were recycled, with sometimes no continuity, between takes. It's such a far cry from P'Pepzi's usually meticulous work-- as if she wasn't given enough prod time and resources to enact a vision for this show.

But the total loss for me was both Mark and Ohm, especially Mark, who I've come to recognize as a good actor. It was as if both their hearts weren't in these characters, and that they couldn't connect to these people at all. They were all very one-dimensional-- caricatures of actual people. Which is such a shame, because I did feel like they did give their all. It's just that GMMTV couldn't be bothered to improve the material or provide workshops that would help newbies like Ohm connect to his character. What a waste of their talents.

So Mark, it really isn't your fault, but a damn shame that you're blaming yourself anyway. I hope your next vehicle will prove better against the media lords' odds.

[bibluebutterfly]

Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

[watchmegetobsessed]

WING IT

A/N: we are slowly getting more content, lets just hope something drops soon!

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: It's your first day working in Selma's Home, you're nervous enough already, but when an emergency calls your boss away and you're left alone, the situation is topped when famous CEO Harry Styles casually strolls in.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

It doesn’t matter that this job is just an in-between. Something that earns you money until your dream position opens. A first day is always stressful, especially when you have no idea what to do.

You were applying to dozens of jobs at once, just shooting everywhere you could, hoping to get an answer back before your rent was due. Selma’s Home was the first one to invite you for an interview and somehow, miraculously you even got the job despite the fact that you have no experience in retail. You suspect that desperation was a big factor in your hiring, because Selma lost 2 of her employees at once when the young couple that was working for her moved across the country. 

Now here you are, walking into the store, nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you head down the aisles where you see Selma behind the cash register already getting ready to open.

“Hi!” you greet her, her head snapping up at your weak voice. Selma is such a fierce, kind of intimidating woman, but you can see how it helped her to open this store and make it one of the most successful home decor stores in the city, offering tasteful stylish pieces along with practical utility items for one’s home. 

“Oh, hi! Welcome to your first day, you ready?” She even cracks a smile, but somehow it just makes you gulp hard.

“Yeah, readier than ever!” you manage to squeeze out a nervous chuckle, hoping she doesn’t sense your jitters.

“Alright, then let’s get started.”

With an hour until opening Selma is eager to squeeze in as much information into it as possible. She walks you through the store, talking about the most important items, but also handing you a handbook about everything that’s currently selling in the store.

“Use your downtime to roam around and you’ll learn them by the end of the week without the handbook,” she says, eyes running over the shelves as she is talking, already moving to the storage room in the back. 

She talks about the system, how to unload the new arrivals every two weeks and then you move on to the cash register, aka your biggest fear. It’s quite the stress factor to deal with money, making sure everything is neat and correct, you can only hope you won’t mess it all up.

Then the store opens and you follow around Selma to learn the ropes. What’s different here is that whenever a customer comes in you offer them help right away and if needed, you assist them throughout their whole time shopping. There are quite some designer products selling and you’ll need to know everything about them to be able to sell them to the customers just like Selma does.

She is so good at it. No matter who comes in, she so effortlessly talks them into leaving with not only what they came for, but some more as well. She is enchanting, nice, open and warm and you just keep taking notes mentally, though you don’t feel confident enough to be as charming as she can be the moment the bell rings above the door. 

When lunch rolls around you allow yourself to feel relieved for a second that you survived half the day already. Selma sends you to the back to have your lunch and you just sit in silence, staring ahead of you, mustering up all your energy for the rest of the workday. You’ve just finished your sandwich when Selma barges into the breakroom.

“Y/N, there’s a bit of an emergency.”

You jump to your feet, scenarios already running through your mind. Is there a fire? Did the storefront just collapse? Someone stole those hella expensive Japanese tablecloths? 

“What happened?”

“My daughter, she is ugh! Such a menace, she got into trouble at school, so I have to go there. I need you to cover for a bit, just an hour tops, I swear!” 

She is already grabbing her purse, pushing her sunglasses to the top of her head, car keys in hand while you just stand there dumbfounded. Is she actually gonna leave you alone in the store on your first day?

“Selma, I-I don’t…”

“You do, Honey. Just an hour. This is a dead time anyway, if anyone comes in, just try your best to help them and ring them up at the end. Easy, I know you can do it!”

She is storming out and you follow her like a lost puppy.

“B-But what if I mess something up?” you ask, panic setting in. 

“As long as you don’t set the store on fire, you’ll be fine. I trust you, Y/N!”

And with that, she is already gone, the bell rings above the door as you stand there like a statue. 

You watch the storefront in pure panic, your stomach dropping every time it seems like someone is approaching the shop, but no one comes in. 

Until the bell rings above the door. 

For a split second you hope it’s Selma, but looking up you see a tall, broad figure and your heart threatens to burst right out of your anxiety filled chest, at first because hello! It’s a customer! But then as he steps further into the shop and takes off his sunglasses, realization settles in. 

This is not just a regular customer, this is Harry Fucking Styles, CEO of Pleasing Productions, the studio that’s given the world the absolute best romantic movies in the past decades and the man is famously known for being a ladies favorite, but appearing as a total mystery in the media. 

You’ve read about him a lot before, it’s hard not to bump into his name online, thanks to his looks he is always somehow in talk for either having dinner with a model, appearing on the red carpet looking like a fucking snack, or, your personaly favorite, declining giving an answer to a question regarding his private life. 

And now he is standing there, looking around the store. 

It takes a couple of moments for you to push out of this frozen state and finally step forward.

“Hello!”

Wow. Did your voice actually sound like that?

Clearing your throat you keep moving towards him.

“Hi, can I help you with anything?”

You try to rake your mind to remember everything you’ve seen and heard from Selma to use now, but the moment he looks up, your mind goes blank. He is just as beautiful as he looks in pictures or maybe even more. Unlike on those red carpet photos where he is always dressed in designer suits, now he is wearing a pair of simple pants and a gray long sleeve, his hair is a bit tousled and it appears he is growing his beard out, a bit shaggy, but he makes it look very… hot. That’s all you can say looking at him.

“Oh, hey!” He is sporting a polite smile as he looks up, about to keep talking, but he stops for a moment upon looking at you and he stops.

Everything stops. 

It’s as if he is taking you in, you can feel your cheeks heating up, the nervous fidgeting starts again, but you hide your hands behind your back so he doesn’t notice. 

“I’m looking for some kitchen stuff,” he then says, hiding his hands in his pockets. 

“Great!” you breathe out. “We do have… those.”

You flinch internally, but ignore just how awkward you are in his presence. 

You ask him about what he needs specifically as the two of you start walking down the isles and for a moment you think of grabbing the handbook, but that would look awful, so you make a decision on the spot.

You’re gonna just wing it. 

What could go wrong? You’ll just pretend like you’re Selma, confident and know everything about the items, you’re gonna say whatever comes to your mind and just… wing it. 

All while ignoring how attractive this man is up close. And intimidating. And charming. And…

“I think I want to check out the coffee stuff first,” he suggests and nodding you walk him over to the kitchen items.

“Do you have a coffee machine and you’re looking for some accessories, or…”

“I just got one of those old fashioned moka coffee pots,” he says with a boyish smile. “But I want to get that to the next level, if you know what I mean.” You do not.

“Of course,” you smile, eyes scanning over the shelves. 

Your grandmother has one of those old moka coffee makers, but you have absolutely no idea what else could be used for those, so you just start grabbing things and making up what they are used for. 

One after the other, you just keep showing him stuff with no idea what you’re talking about, but the longer you’re talking the more confident you’re growing, especially when he just keeps nodding and humming along to anything you say. 

“So… which one are you more interested in?” you ask at the end of your little speech. You look at him and find him already looking at you with a tiny smile curling up the corners of his mouth. 

“What can you tell me about those?” he asks, ignoring your question and just moving to another shelf. 

He keeps asking about items and you just make up everything as you go. Of course, you know some of the stuff, but you were never really a true chef in the kitchen, so there are way too many items you don’t know that much, but somehow, you’ve gathered enough confidence that even you believe what you say. 

Slowly, Harry fills his basket as you move through the store and every time you look at him you catch him already looking at you with the same smile you can’t quite decipher. 

“What about those?” he points up at a set of plates on the top shelf.

“Oh, those are so pretty! Let me show you them!” you enthuse and run to grab the ladder from the back. 

It’s not the steadiest tool for sure, but you ignore the wobble you feel when you start climbing it.

“Are you sure it’s–”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” you chuckle, reaching the top step, but your knees are definitely shaking. You focus on grabbing the plates and getting off as fast as possible, but right when you take them off the shelf you already feel yourself losing balance. 

But Harry is quick to come to your rescue. One of his hands grabs the ladder to steady it and the other… the other one grabs the back of your thigh to help you hold yourself up. Until then you were shaking because of the ladder, but now it’s definitely because of his firm hold on you, the warmth of his touch and the thoughts that unrelease when you realize just how perfectly his fingers are digging into your flesh. 

“You good?” he asks in a deep, husky voice. 

“Yeah.” Your voice is barely more than just a whisper as you hold onto the plates as if they could hold you up. 

You start moving down on the ladder, but Harry’s hand doesn’t leave your body, it works up on your hips and waist, grabbing onto your elbow as you finally step onto the ground and even then, he is still touching you, his eyes locked on yours as you’re still holding those damn plates. The image of dropping them and pushing up against him flashes through your mind and your knees wobble again when you catch his gaze flickering down to your lips for a second. 

“The plates,” you blurt out then. He looks down and a smile stretches across his face.

“They really are pretty.”

“Right?” you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Now that you risked your life for them, I guess it’s only fair if I actually buy them.”

Fuck, your heart is about to jump right out of your chest, how is he so smooth?

You gather a few more things and then move to the cash register to ring everything up. 

“How long have you been working here?” he asks, patiently waiting for you to finish. 

“Um… Do you want the truth?” you ask, with a cheeky smile.

“Yeah.”

“This is my first day,” you admit, just as you finish the scanning and when you look at the amount it all added up to, you almost choke on your own saliva. “Um, your total is 1630.”

For a moment you think he’ll question how it’s so much, but without hesitation he whips out his card and taps it on the terminal.

“First day, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have guessed?”

“Oh, I kind of did,” he chuckles and he starts to help you with putting everything away in bags. “You really should learn what the items are used for.”

Normally you’d be embarrassed that he noticed how much you just made up, but the smile he is gifting you with vanishes all negative feelings and you can actually find it funny. 

“I will.”

“Thank you for your assistance,” he smirks, grabbing the bags from the counter. “And if I happen to leave a review about the excellent service, what name should I drop?” 

“I’m Y/N,” you say with a sheepish smile. He then sticks his hand out and you take it.

“Harry. It was really nice meeting you.”

“You too.”

With a final wave he turns around, slides his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose and then walks out of the store. You stand there completely overwhelmed by the experience and you have no idea how much time passes by before Selma barges through the door.

“Hi Darling! How did everything go?” she beams, walking up to the counter where you’re still standing. 

“Great!”

“Did anyone come in?” 

“Yeah. Harry Styles was just here.” Selma freezes for a moment before looking up at you.

“Harry Styles? As in…”

“Yeah. That Harry Styles.”

“How did it go? Did he buy anything?”

“He spent 1600 dollars on kitchen stuff.”

“Y/N, that’s great!” Selma claps her hands. “Was he satisfied? Could you help him?”

“I think I could,” you say with a knowing smile. “He seemed… satisfied, yeah.”

The first day jitters are luckily gone by the next day, especially because Selma looked at you with so much pride after you told her about your encounter with Harry that you feel like you can’t do anything wrong. 

Before lunch Selma asks you to rearrange some stuff in the storage and you’re a bit relieved you don’t have to take any customers for now.

But because of that, you’re not out when one specific person walks into the shop. Again. 

Harry enters the store confidently, a smile already on his lips as he looks in the direction of the cash register, but it fades when he only sees Selma, but no sight of you. Selma, on the other hand, becomes ecstatic when she sees and recognizes him.

“Welcome! How may I help you?” she chirps, walking towards Harry, who is still looking around, eyes searching for you. 

“Hey, is the… Is the woman who worked yesterday here? Y/N?” Selma stops, surprised.

“Y/N? Uh, yes, but she is busy now, I’m sure I can help you–”

“I want her,” he states.

“She is still training, I’m sure I can–”

“Look,” Harry sighs. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Selma, the owner,” she states proudly.

“Selma, I’m more than happy to buy everything in this store if it means I get to talk to her. How does that sound?”

Selma stares back at him, finally understanding the situation. Her stance changes instantly.

“Let me go get her for you.”

You’re going over your list in the back when Selma appears, her spotless appearance feels odd in the storage room’s setting. 

“Oh, hey! I just finished with–”

“I need you outside.”

“What? Why?” Panic washes over you, because you can’t read her face and what could she possibly need you for outside on your second day?

“Just come. Now!” She turns around and heads out, not even checking if you’re following her. Of course you do.

“Selma, what did I–” you start mumbling behind her, but just when you step out and spot Harry at the cash register.

His face lights up the moment he sees you and those damn butterflies start raging in your stomach. 

“Harry, you’re here. Again,” you state the obvious. 

“I am,” he chuckles and you see Selma walk away from the corner of your eyes. 

“How, um–What can I… help you with?” you ask, clearing your throat. Why is he here? Could it be… because of you? Yesterday you definitely spent an awful lot of time daydreaming of the way he was touching you on that ladder and you’d be lying if you said you felt disappointed he just walked out, knowing you might never see him again. 

Well, so much for that.

“I forgot to get something yesterday.” 

“Oh,” is all you can say, the disappointment snaking back into your gut. He is not here because of you, how could you even think about that?

Harry’s smile widens as he watches your face drop and then he finally continues.

“Your number.”

Your eyes widen and you must look quite funny, because Harry chuckles at the sight of your expression. 

“Was this too straight forward?”

“No!” you snap right away, maybe a bit too eagerly. “Not at all.”

“Great, then…”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it over, you type your number in quickly and hand it over. He taps on the screen and a second later your phone starts buzzing in your back pocket.

“Just checking you didn’t give me a pizzeria’s number,” he jokes, making you laugh. “And… now that I’m conveniently here, maybe you can show me some more stuff.”

“What do you need?” you ask as the two of you head down one of the aisles. 

“Hmm, how long is your shift?”

“Um, another four hours,” you scoff.

“Then I guess I’m interested in everything. Whatever takes four hours to look at so I can take you out once you’re done.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[gosthgirlundici]

Okey I have just finished watching TADC last episode and I have a crazy theory about Jax's past that I need to get out of my mind. I don't know why but I have the sensation that he has been SA.

!!!TW TALKING ABOUT SA!!! PLEASE DON'T READ THIS IF YOU KNOW THAT COULD BE A TRAUMA TRIGGER FOR YOU!!!

I know if could sound crazy but bare with me.

In the last episode it is revealed that his mother was into hunting and his character design Is a bunny, so it could simbolize that she acted in a predatory way towards him. Plus he tries to eat Gangle after shooting her.

It is shown that he is afraid of Corn, wich I know that could be a joke about him acting similar to cats with cucumbers, but "corn" is also used online to talk about explicit content without being banned. He will obviously not feeling at ease with it around him.

It is shown how he feels bad about having to wear a made outfit, which many characters are drawing wearing in sexualizing art and material in general.

It is shown how he is so freaking scared that Cain can make him a vegan, or the fact that he doesn't have a tail anymore (even if I know that was probably just a joke related to fans drawing him with one by mistake), obviously because he probably underestimated the power that Cain has over them and how dangerous he is, but I also think that he could have felt disgusted by the fact that someone had again the power to do what they wanted with his body without his concent.

And last but not least, what got this theory in mind was the line Jax pronounce when they are stargazing "It feels like she is trying to take advantage of you, you know?" referring to Ragatha being always too gentle and caring toward everyone. It made me think that he feels like she has a second aim behind her perfect girl facade because someone in his past live bombed him to then take advantage of him in some kind of way and maybe that is an ulterior reason why he doesn't trusts Rags.

His way of acting mean and cruel toward evrybod could be related to the fact that he has trust issues because people got closer to him just to use him as they wanted.

Anyways this could also be just the product of my dumb, sleep deprived, brain, mixed with the fact that I watched this episode around 2 AM so please don't get angry at me because of it.

[hbheavensent]

Asmodeus/Fizz

Teehee my blue boy and my second favorite clown :33 My thoughts/reasons for changes below the cut!

I'll start with Ozzie first because I don't even really mind his original design, I just dislike his head looking bug-like and sorta awkward. I DID love his drag fashion style so I wanted to keep most of that. I also wanted to limit his colors a bit to give his look a touch more focus.

In regards to his outfit I wanted to play into a bondage sort of aesthetic with the ribbons. I imagine they shoot out to grab people while also constraining him, adding in some body horror to the whole thing. I was also thinking that he is affectively blind which is apart of his punishment after falling from grace for trying to consort with Raphael repeatedly. He is the fifth to fall just after Mammon does. Something I also want to change is how Succubi come about, rather than being made by Ozzie like how Satan made the Imps, Succubi are a product of his ring and humans becoming more and more lustful. They spawn in at first as opposed to being made and are unable to carry children but can breed with others as long as they carry the child. No "Pure Succubi" has blood related parents. Succubi I also think have a slightly longer lifespan of an average 150 years vs an Imp's 80 years, though they show no signs of aging until they die. Other than that, Lust is really similar to the show.

Ozzie in my version has the best intentions most of the time, his sin is the weakest because it impacts his and others day to day lives the least arguably. Ozzie at his worst is committing adultery and cheating but if he has a partner who is FINE with him being like that? It's no big deal. Not to mention a lot of people in Hell are sex positive, rarely is anyone clutching their pearls about these things. This sort of laxness is what gives Ozzie a skewed perception on the other Sins, sure he understands compulsions because he has them just as strongly but it's not actively ruining his quality of life like it would for Mammon or Belphegor. In this way it's caused a lot of friction between him and the other sins with the exception of Beelzebub, who they only hang out once in a blue moon since she's always busy. Ozzie is also one of the sins who very heavily interacts with the "lower class" of demons, seen as approachable but not in the same way Bee is. He for sure floats above things a bit but he's known to have relationships with just about anyone, often coming back home to just one person. This is where we get into his relationship to Fizz. They're not toxic by any means, Ozzie and him communicate well all things considered. Naturally they did meet through Mammon requesting the sex bots, because frankly Mammon does NOT want to handle any of that and knows Ozzie would.

Through multiple meetings and measurements Fizz/Ozzie started having flings which turned into a more stable relationship. Fizz doesn't mind that Ozzie messes with other people and the power dynamic between them rarely comes into play in their personal lives. Rather, the reason Fizz and Ozzie avoid public stuff is due to Fizz being uncomfortable with other people's observations about them. To Ozzie this is something he's experienced thousands of times. That's the thing though isn't it? Ozzie has had this kind of relationship with a mortal creature over and over again. He's a wonderful partner, supportive and kind- but in 60-80 years when Fizz gets old and dies? How long will it take for Ozzie to forget him? To forget the moments they had?

He's forgotten others, so.. what makes Fizz different?

He's not.

That's where their main conflict comes from, Fizz already feels insignificant unless he's performing and getting that external validation. So much of Fizz is wanting a legacy, wanting people to know him and look up to him. Fizz, at his core, is insecure unless he's in the limelight and peacocking or acting. To know that he is a blip in eons of time to Ozzie and someday that he won't matter to the person he loves most? That sucks. I want his arc to focus on that though admittedly I have some more writing to do there. For Fizz's new outfit I really just wanted to have him.. perform in his bosses colors. Because why would be represent Ozzie on Mammon's stage??? EVER??? Not that he can't have his cannon look/outfits since I borderline changed nothing and I like his design a lot :P

Anyway, here's the lineup as per usual! I'll be adding my four Angel OCs before moving to the Hazbin Hotel side of things :)

[rainbowsuitcase]

My favorite bits from Top Gun Memos

which is a really cool book about the making of Top Gun! I did my best to make this post accessible, but please tell me if something could be better. Emphasis is mine.

This is a part 2, find part 1 here!

Tom Cruise almost fucking died. And "self-induced CPR" is my new favorite phrase.

(Transctiption: “It was a really nice sequence that Tony designed, and we executed, and it didn’t get into the film.”

Robert G. Willard, who worked on special effects, said the dummy made to look like Goose helped pull Cruise underwater. “They just got a dummy, and stuffed a picture in the face card, behind the glass, and it was enough to look like Goose.” It was made of foam, and when he saw them adding water to make it sink lower in the raft, and even weights, he said he warned them. “I told them, too much weight and you will lose it. I was overruled.” End Transcription.)

(Transcription: He saw what happened from the ship. “All of a sudden the dummy starts to sink, waterlogged, and Cruise’s leg is wrapped around one of the shrouds of the parachute.”

Kauber saw it happen but was too far away to react. Two other Navy rescue swimmers, Daryl Silva and John Butler, were closer. “They free-dove down there and cut Cruise loose. It’s lucky they got to him in time.”

They had knives as part of safety gear, which they used to cut him free.

In the roughly 40 seconds it took to bring him back up, Kauber had swum closer to the life raft, and was there when they surfaced. “Cruise had inhaled a lot of salt water and we threw him up into the Zodiac. “He looked like he was unconscious, but he came to. I think he landed either on his stomach or his chest, because once he hit the side of the rubber boat, it was like a [bold] self-induced CPR, [end bold] and it forced all that water out.”

They got Cruise to the ship and out of the costume. The actor was still struggling to regain his strength when Scott — unaware of the severity of what had occurred — yelled that he wanted to get another take. Cruise began yelling at the director that he wasn’t going to do it, using some “choice words” for Scott. “It’s the only time I saw Cruise lose it with Tony Scott,” said Wade. “He was pissed.”

“I remember Cruise being adamantly opposed,” said Kauber, with a degree of understatement. “He was raising his voice to Tony Scott. As far as the actual conversation, it revolved around whether he’d get back in the water,” said Kauber. “It scared the heck out of Cruise. He was that close to being crab bait in San Diego Bay.” End Transcription.)

2. He isn't making a documentary, you guys.

(Transcription: It was also out of the realm of possibility, which irked the Navy guys.

Technically it was possible for an F-14 to fly inverted, but it wasn’t something they would do and they would never be that close to another aircraft. The pilots — increasingly comfortable around the director, who was in their milieu — told him as much. Scott revived the line he’d used earlier in production: He wasn’t making a documentary. [bold] Pilots would sometimes restate it to each other: “He isn’t making a documentary.” [end bold] End Transcription.)

3. Again, I need to know who. Just for my personal amusement this time.

(Transcription: Everyone was shown aerial clips, without sound, including film shot of the actors when they flew in the F-14s. G-force had not been kind to them, and the shots documented a fair amount of airsickness. Baranek said he could hear the young men in the room cajoling each other. [bold] When one of the images showed a particular actor vomiting, another called out, “That’s some of your best work, right there.” [end bold] End Transcription.)

4. On shooting the cockpit close-ups.

(Transcription: Meanwhile, something had gone awry with the gimbal, which controlled the cockpit set. They had designed it to operate hydraulically, Willard said, “but we bent something the first day.” That didn’t change the fact that the heavy cockpit set had to be moved, and with an actor inside. “We ended up doing it all by manpower,” Willard said. The faux cockpit was held up mechanically but shifting it was hard physical work.

[bold] “There were six guys jockeying Cruise and Edwards around like Egyptian pharaohs,” [end bold] recalled Heatley, who was there to help work on dialogue. “There was a circular light around them and Art Scholl’s photography in the background. It was incredible.” End Transcription.)

5. Now I want to watch it again, just to see if I can hear this.

(Transcription: Hall began building a library of “great animal sounds” that were more dynamic. She focused on animal roars, specifically lions and tigers, and mixed in monkey screeches and parts of an elephant trumpet to get a slight scream. [bold] “So if you see a jet flying across the screen it might be a mix of 15 or 16 monkeys and elephants,” [end bold] she recalled. “It was a lot of fun.” End Transcription.)

6. The only sex scene I ever felt the need to look away from didn't need to happen.

(Transcription: Exhibitors thought the relationship with Maverick and Charlie was too light. [bold] “We felt we needed that sexual thing, for Maverick to bonk Kelly,” [end bold] Scott said in an interview years later, although by all accounts the director was not part of the “we” when it happened.

[bold] “Nobody thought it needed that,” said Weber. “‘We’ were done.” [end bold] End Transcription.)

7. Reviews!

(Transcription: “An empty-headed technological marvel,” wrote Michael Wilmington in the Los Angeles Times. The overall impression left by the movie was that of a “Disco War,” he continued. “Like disco, it evaporates from your mind minutes after you leave. Even though it’s an irresponsible movie (but one that has hit written all over it), it’s hard to get offended. [bold] The deepest impulses behind Top Gun are not political but sexual. You can tell by the number of scenes set in the shower.” [end bold] End Transcription.)

(Transcription: Reviews abroad echoed a similar theme to the early reviews stateside, but with some cheeky British perspective. “For a classic American hero, you couldn’t find anyone better than fighter pilot Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell,” columnist Pauline McCleod wrote when the movie was released in Great Britain on Oct. 3, 1986. [bold] “He’s about as manufactured as American processed cheese and his fellow countrymen just LOVE him!” [end bold] Cruise had played the role “with great skill,” she wrote, noting it was the No. 1 film in the U.S. End Transcription.)

8. Is Tom Cruise one of the most hated men in the American acting community? It's not impossible!

(Transcription: During a 2014 appearance on “Jimmy Kimmel Live!,” Kimmel asked Cruise about the first time he had traveled the world to promote a movie.

The actor said that it was during the foreign press junket tour for Top Gun, which he said took four months. They’d spend weeks in every city they visited in Italy, France, and Japan. Cruise told Kimmel he was the one who came up with the idea of premiering films in other countries, though he said, “It took me a few years to get it going.” Kimmel quipped, [bold] “So all these other actors must want to kill you.” [end bold] End Transcription.)

[unrealcosima]

State of Thai GL - June 2025

The summer of GL is coming.

Airing:

(Your) Apple - Second season of Apple my love (miniseries). Airing Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays. Should be finishing this week.

Denied Love – Currently airing Thursdays.

Music Story: Losing Control – (Not a full series, but a webseries.) Currently airing Wednesdays.

Whale Store xoxo – Airing Wednesdays from 25 June.

Only You – Airing Fridays from 18 July.

Harmony Secret – Currently filming. Airing Saturdays from 26 July.

Roller Coaster – Airing Wednesdays from 13 August.

Filming/awaiting release date:

Poisonous Love – Finished filming. Releasing in September.

My Safe Zone – Finished filming. Will probably not air until Only You is finished.

Queendom – Filming Q26.  

Somewhere Somehow – Filming Q23.

Love Design – Filming Q13. Will probably air in autumn.

ClaireBell – Filming. Up to Q13 by the end of June based on the published schedule. Slated to air in November

Player – Filming. Up to Q11 by the end of June based on the published schedule.

Unlimited Love – Currently filming.

Announced:

My Only Sunshine - Pilot trailer out. With AtomMer. No idea anymore about when they will start filming, but presumably before remain, although that's not clear anymore. Don’t despair just yet, though (only -pair, this is Star Hunter after all). I trust that this will get done…eventually. I just don’t know when.

Mission: Love or Lies – Announced by a new company called VibeBerry Studio. They have already announced their cast and had a read through so they’ll probably start shooting soon.

From the company twitter account: “What if a cool bodyguard had to live the life of a heiress to protect her from danger? Along with, a tough police captain and a gorgeous best friend, making things even more complicated and stirring up feelings.”

Be My Angel – Pilot trailer. Already had the blessing ceremony so GL gods willing, this will start filming soon.

Remain – Pilot out on 22 June. With AndaLookkaew and NoonPraewa

Dangerous Queen – Pilot trailer(x2).

Buy My Boss - Pilot trailer. One of the lead actresses left the project and has been substituted by Ying, of The Secret of Us fame (Engfah). I don’t know if this also signals that they will start moving with this project soon.

Shades - Pilot trailer.

Dream Mind – Pilot trailer.

Un-trovert – Pilot trailer.

The Dragon House - Pilot trailer. The company updated the IG biography to coming soon SS1 Game Over (this means it’s not dead).

3 Minutes 2 Love - Pilot trailer. Gotta be honest, the lack of updates is not giving me good vibes.

Like a Palette – Cast announced.

Runaway – They are in workshops right now. Apparently, the leads will not be BamYada in the end.

The Earth - Part of the 4 Elements project, with AppleMim.

The Water - Part of the 4 Elements project, with Englot.

The Air – Part of the 4 Elements project, with Freenbecky

The Fire – Part of the 4 Elements project, with NamneungNoey

It appears that they are currently working on the script, we don’t know anything about any potential release date except that it will air Saturdays on Channel 7. Filming in July, apparently.

Lyric… You Are My Love Song – Kongthup production (Apple my love, Monster next door, two worlds, knock knock boys). Actresses are JenniferMew.

More than idol – GraceOaey’s new project. Currently casting.

Crush - Chao Planoy adaptation with Ormfolk.

The Hidden Blood- Blessing ceremony. Will start shooting the pilot soon. With Fahsai Paweensuda and Seya Thongchua.

Love Invasion- New action GL for Channel7

No Romeo - Announced out of the blue by One31 and no updates since. One of the actresses said that this show will come out this year (2025). It’s looking increasingly unlikely since they director has started preparing to shoot another show (Friendshit forever)

Stuck with Me – Third in the trilogy with Reverse 4 you and Reverse with me. Actresses are AntNut. This was announced for 2025.

Girl Rules - Announced by GMMTV.  Pilot trailer released as part of the 2025 line up announcement. With NamtanFilm and MilkLove. No date to start filming yet, P’Jojo currently filming That Summer. I don’t expect it to come out until late 2025 or early 2026.

Cranium - Pilot trailer. Announced for the IDF 2025 line up with freenbecky. To be aired in January 2026.

Rights bought, but no announcement:

Bake Love Feelings 

Enemies with Benefits

Built in Love

Mutelu U & Me

Yours Ever

Third Person

???? projects:

Girllove Girlfriend - Vanished.

About Galaxy – In limbo.

The Last Case – Dead?

[mystery-twin-mystery-bags]

SHIPPING UPDATE #1

Over the last couple of months, it has been beyond exciting to be receiving the products in the mail. While it has been a waiting game for everything to get made, we are finally waiting on just a few more packages and then our shipping mod can start preparing the bundles to get sent out! We are roughly estimating for the Mystery Bags to begin sending in late April/early May, though you can also keep an eye out for a tracking number from Big Cartel.

If your address has changed, please reach out to our through our website and we can update it before our shipping period begins.

Once bundles are shipped out, we will be reopening our store for our leftover sales and our auction. Keep an eye on our social medias for more information on these later.

Thank you all so much for your patience!

Image ID

Image 1: A cover of a pink scrapbook. There are puffy stickers of stars, flowers, and planets on it, as well as various pieces of glitter. In cut up lettering reads "SHIPPING UPDATE" with a piece of paper tapped below it reading "1!"

Image 2: Three polaroids are taped to a piece of scarp paper. Above written in pink crayon reads "PACKAGING!" The first photo is of tissue paper with Dipper and Mabel's pine tree and shooting star symbols; an arrow points to it, "So Discreet!" The second polaroid is of a sticker with the same design. The third photo is of a room FILLED with boxes, a note below reads, "SO MANY BOXES!"

Image 3: Two polaroids are taped to a piece of scrap paper. Above written in pink crayon reads "GOODIES!" In the first polaroid is of a Gravity Falls poster with cryptids drawn in Ford's art style; below is someone wearing Sonic the Hedgehog slippers. An arrow points to the slippers reading "SONIC!" In the second polaroid is of various polaroid art designs. Below is a note: "POLAROID-CEPTION!"

Image 4: Five polaroids are taped to a scrap paper. Above written in pink crayon reads "POSTERS AND PRINTS!" All of the polaroids are of various print and poster designs from the Mystery Twin Mystery Bag project.

[broidobe]

𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔥 𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔪𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔩 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔩𝔲𝔡𝔢

requested!

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

he was so unprepared for the attention.

slash is used to being the rockstar in the relationship, but dating you? 

yeah, suddenly you’re the one getting recognized first, and it lowkey blows his mind.

paparazzi nightmare.

he fucking hates them, but they love you both together.

whether it’s you strutting down a runway or the two of you sneaking out of a club at 3 am, you’re always getting snapped.

he gets extra protective about it, throwing an arm around you or flipping them off.

you get him into fashion.

not that he’ll ever admit it, but he starts paying more attention to how he dresses when he’s with you. still slash, still leather and sunglasses, but maybe he actually bothers to wear a nice shirt under his jacket now.

backstage passes to everything. 

you get him vip access to fashion shows, and even though he pretends to hate sitting front row, he actually thinks it’s pretty fucking cool watching you own the runway.

babe, i don’t get fashion.

but then he absolutely loses his shit when he sees you in his oversized shirts and ripped-up band tees.

like, you could be wearing the most expensive designer dress, but nothing gets him going like you walking around in just his shirt and nothing else.

jealous? him? 

oh, absolutely. he doesn’t say it, but if some male model is getting too cozy during a shoot, you’ll notice him start playing his guitar extra loud when you get home, or pulling you into his lap like you belong there.

dates that feel like wild adventures.

one night it’s a fancy gala where you’re draped in diamonds, the next, you’re on the back of his motorcycle, speeding off to some grungy rock bar, trading champagne for whiskey.

he lives for your photoshoots.

will sit back with a cigarette in his mouth, watching you pose with the smuggest fucking look, fully aware that he’s the one you’re going home with.

post-show makeup removal.

if you’re exhausted after a long shoot, slash will gently wipe off your makeup with a damp towel while you sit between his legs.

he might not understand all the products, but he does love watching your bare face emerge from it all.

power couple.

when you walk into a room together? everyone fucking stares.

you’re both effortlessly cool in your own ways—him, the wild guitar legend; you, the runway queen. and goddamn, you both own it.

if there’s an exclusive party after one of your runway shows, slash will be there, whiskey in hand, chilling in the corner while watching you steal the spotlight.

he doesn’t need to be the center of attention—he’s just here to admire his girl.

babe, you know you don’t have to wear heels all the time, right?

he’s obsessed with how tall and elegant you look in heels, but secretly? he lives for when you ditch them and strut around barefoot in one of his flannels.

cigarette breaks together.

you’ll step outside during a shoot to take a break, and guess who’s already waiting for you, leaning against his car, sunglasses low on his nose, cigarette between his lips? your man. and he’s checking you out like you’re the most expensive thing he’s ever seen.

you teach him how to pose

he swears he’s not photogenic, but you literally model for a living, so you show him a few tricks. ("tilt your head like this, babe—there, see? you look hot as hell.") he still grumbles about it, but he lowkey loves how you hype him up.

hand placement = always possessive

whether he’s resting a hand on your thigh during a party, gripping your waist backstage, or hooking a finger through your belt loop as you walk, he’s always touching you somehow.

you’re my favorite model.

he’s so damn casual when he says it, too. maybe you’re just standing in front of the mirror, fixing your dress, and he comes up behind you, hands on your hips, whispering, god, look at you.

he brags about you.

he acts like he’s chill about it, but the second someone brings you up in conversation? oh, he’s grinning like an idiot, pulling up one of your best photos, talking about how insanely talented you are.

yeah, that’s my girl. she fucking killed it at that shoot.

modeling’s cool and all, but when are you gonna let me put you on a damn album cover?

he’s only half-joking. he would absolutely put you on a guns n’ roses cover if you let him.

if you ever model lingerie, he loses his goddamn mind

not publicly, of course—he keeps his composure during the shoot. but the second you’re alone? yeah. good luck getting out of his grip. (you’re fucking evil, you know that?)

he has a favorite look of yours.

maybe it’s that dress, or the way your hair falls after a shoot, or how effortlessly sexy you look in a plain tank top. whatever it is, you always know when you’re wearing it, because he gets that dark, hungry look in his eyes, and suddenly, you’re leaving that event early.

baby, they were looking at you.

"yeah? and?" 

and i didn’t fucking like it. 😏

[skyward-current]

argus: the fragility of conviction

(this analysis goes out to @7thedisasterdyke because i believe she's the strongest argus soldier in all of global – who's saved up 700 pulls to P5 her on release and has all of her voicelines downloaded as MP3 files lol)

argus as a character is defined by contradictions. outwardly, she is stubborn, conservative, and resistant to change; however, she's simultaneously weighed down by persistent anxiety that betrays her hardened exterior, consumed by a fear of helplessness that characterizes horror movies. this duality is set up right off the bat when argus refuses to give barbara a ride due to her nyctalopia, citing her professional duty or an unwillingness to interfere in others' affairs. yet, almost instinctively, she turns back out of worry. it is this push and pull – her desire to appear unshakable versus her deep compassion – that bleeds into her every behavior.

her dynamic with kayla, particularly in the scenes that blur reality and hallucination, reveals the fragility beneath her convictions. the hallucinations invoked by tuesday push argus to her breaking point; tuesday exploits fear, and she wraps her fingers around the core of argus's anxieties – the town who employs her service, and above all, kayla. as a mercenary, argus prides herself on faith in utility and action – she has no right to pause or doubt, only to follow orders like a “mindless tool", said the kayla who's a product of her own psyches. it stings, because it implies she has no personality beyond strength nor identity beyond her role. she dismisses ghosts and supernatural phenomena, relying instead on said strength and alertness to hold herself together (hence the over-reliance on picrasma candies.)

in the next pivotal moment, when doubt creeps in on a quest for clarity, the hallucinated kayla demands, "if you think i’m not kayla, then why don’t you kill me now?" the taunt is met with the barrel of argus's gun trembling, which symbolizes how her hesitation is no longer a perceived weakness but is a sign of her resolve unraveling. the real kayla, or at least what bluepoch wants us to believe, is trapped behind the motel's mirror; or to argus, she is more tangible and human, alive somewhere else – both entirely separate from the illusions. yet, even the thought that she should act (and at any other time she would) – that she may have killed kayla, any version of kayla, out of mercenary instincts – becomes her greatest nightmare. argus couldn’t bring herself to make the slightest attempt to challenge the ghost’s authenticity, as her deepest fear that it was truly her dearest friend was beyond what she could consciously accept.

argus's design is inspired by greek mythology, or more specifically, the story of hera and argus panoptes mirrors this relationship. argus, the hundred-eyed giant, was hera’s vigilant servant, alert to every detail but ultimately betrayed by his own immobility when hermes lulled him to sleep. likewise, argus’s unwavering focus on her role as a “tool” leaves her blind to the emotional truths around her. the kayla of argus's imagination takes on hera’s role here – unrelenting, watchful, and, at times, harsh. when kayla says, “no living thing is born to suffer,” it’s as if she is shaking argus awake from her black-and-white, do-or-don't personality.

argus’s story then possesses certain elements of classical tragedies whose characters are driven by a fatal mixture of doubt, ambition, and fear of powerlessness (oedipus rex or macbeth, to name a few). their desire to take fate into their own hands leads to their untimely demise, whereas compromising with second opinions might've served them better.

the key difference, however, is the flicker of humanity that remains in argus. hesitation becomes her first taste of salvation in the face of "kayla" spitting out "what’s with the hesitation anyway? it’s not like you give a damn about other people’s lives. ” she does not shoot, despite the chaos and pressure around her. though she fears powerlessness, her decision to stop – her refusal to act blindly – signifies growth. funny enough that her confrontation with this fake kayla is less about tearing down tuesday's illusions with force but about shedding argus's own illusion about who she's supposed to be, a step toward defining her morals outside of her duty.

ultimately, argus's arc is a haunting reminder that true strength lies not in the absence of fear or doubt but the willingness to confront them. like hera’s loyal giant who could not see his own fate, argus teeters on the edge of destruction. yet, where others fall, she trembles, pauses, and begins to stand.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

i've been having a couple of downer days recently, and i kept looking for a verse i haven't read thrice yet for some comfort, but you're age! gap verse has been a pleasant escape even though its not what i was looking for. you're writing never fails to make me feel better ari 💕💕

Here's how they met 💜

Bruce sighed. He was starting to hate talk show appearances, but at least this one had never been too bad. Angelique was chatty and fun but not grating. Her show ran as school let out. So grannies watched after their naps and kids watched getting off the bus. She ran a little something for everyone.

He assumed he was here for the grannies.

"I'm so sorry I'm late the shoot ran over and I couldn't get away."

The voice caught his attention. Not the fake starlet over dramatic gushing, but genuine distress. And he half turned to look. You looked like you came from a shoot. Straight off the pages of a glossy magazine.

"No worries, Miss Y/L/N we got your call in enough time. We'll just touch up your face and you'll be good to go," the manager greeting you, said.

Bruce smiled a little. Clearly, you were a frequent guest. You thanked him profusely and trotted off. Not needing to be told where to go. And as you go, there's several crew members you can greet by name. You've either been here a lot or worked with them before. Or both. But, it's endearing.

He turned back around listening to Angelique get her updates on where production was. "-And Y/N is in hair and makeup as we speak."

"Oh, bless her heart," Angelique said. "That's what I get calling her last minute." She turned to Bruce and held out her hand, "Are you ready?" she asked.

"As I'll ever be," he chuckled taking her hand, "You know these sorts of things aren't my forte. My oldest on the other hand-"

"Don't you worry about a thing," Angelique reassured him, patting the hand she was holding before letting it go. "Y/N is an old pro- Ah! speak of the devil!" She swooped over and kissed you on either cheek. "You look absolutely divine, is that one of yours?"

"You know it is," you tell her laughing, returning the gesture. "As if I could walk in and NOT wear my own design, you'd never let me live it down."

"So true. Darling," she said grabbing your hand and pulling you over to Bruce, "I want you to meet Bruce. You'll be on stage together today. You know it's charity week and I though it would be great to highlight all the work you do for school arts programs along side the Wayne foundation," she said.

"Hello," you tell him, holding out your hand.

"Pleased to meet you," he said, taking the hand you offered warmly. Giving you his most charming smile. You did look good. And he could tell they hadn't done much to your face or your hair. "I'm a big fan of your work," he commented.

Your smile didn't falter but your eyes narrowed slightly. And Bruce cringed internally Shit. She thinks I mean the Playboy spread, he thought. "Your last movie, the drama, especially. The range of emotion and the depth- It really was incredible."

"Thank you," you tell him. "It was challenging but I really enjoyed it."

Bruce felt his face heat when Angelique coughed and he remembered hearing that you had the ability to make someone feel like they were the only person in the room. He'd forgotten for just a second. In just that brief moment that he was waiting for an appearance. "It showed I uh- my kids made fun of me when I cried at the end-"

"Aww, Angelique gushed, "This is amazing. you guys keep up this chemistry. It'll go totally viral." She bounced on the balls of her feet and kissed your cheek again, "I'll have someone bring you a coffee, sweetie. You're going to start wilting soon."

And before you could say anything or Bruce could offer to go and get it for you himself, Angelique had bustled off to find and assistant to give marching orders to.

[foone]

Re: the Fagot anti-tank rocket, it reminds me of my favorite story of Soviet weapon design.

So, the Nazis were working in infrared homing missiles during WW2 but never completed any by the time the war ended (though they got close).

The Americans collected a lot of information on these systems, through spies and Operation Paperclip, and started work on their own guided air-to-air missile: the AIM-9 Sidewinder.

They worked on it from 1946 to 1955, when it was operationally complete and authorized for mass production.

The first time they got used was the Second Taiwan Strait Crisis, in 1958. The Taiwanese air force was flying American F-86 Sabres, vs China's MiG-17s. The MiG-17 outclassed the F-86s, flying over them so high the Sabres couldn't hope to hit them, and then they could swoop down and attack when they had the advantage.

So the US decided to help out: they secretly helped Taiwan modify their F-86s with the new heat seeking missile, and provided something like a dozen of the missiles to use again the MiG-17s.

On the 24th of September, the F-86s engaged the MiG-17s with the new missiles, surprising them with the ability to attack when the MiG-17s were supposedly outside the operational range of the F-86s, shooting some planes down. This was the first use of guided air to air missiles in combat.

Four days later, there was another skirmish, and an F-86 shot an AIM-9 Sidewinder into a MiG-17... And it didn't explode.

The MiG-17 made it back to base, with the groundbreaking new missile type never before seen in the history of warfare, and it was mostly intact. The Soviets convinced the Chinese to send them the missile, and within two years they had developed the Vympel K-13: a clone of the AIM-9 Sidewinder.

The US took the best of Nazi scientists weapon development, then spent over a decade developing a never before seen super-weapon that would change air combat forever... And one of the first DOZEN fired ended up embedded in plane, unexplored, and then delivered to their greatest enemy.

They might as well just have mailed the schematics to the Kremlin. And I think that's hilarious.

[estellesdoll]

﹢﹒𝑭𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝑻𝒂𝒍𝒌𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒖𝒏𝒏𝒚 𝑮𝒊𝒇𝒕𝒔﹐𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺.

﹒ ₍ pinned post ₎ 𐔌 masterlist 𓂃 navigation ꒱ taglist ﹒ ₍

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : A blurb based on their latest YouTube video. If you'd like, feel free to send me requests, and don't forget to add yourselves to the taglist! 🥰

"This one’s for Matt," I announce, grabbing the neatly wrapped gift from the pile and walking over to him with a grin.

Chris, lounging on the couch with one arm draped over the back, raises an eyebrow. "What is it? A guide on how to accept defeat gracefully?"

I shoot him a playful glare. "Be nice, it’s Christmas."

Matt clutches his chest dramatically. "Finally, someone who gets me. Thank you for your dedication to the cause."

"Just open it," I urge, laughing. "It's officially part of the family now."

Matt pauses, narrowing his eyes suspiciously before tearing off the wrapping paper. "Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?"

Inside the wrapping is a plushie—soft, round, and ridiculously cute. His expression shifts from suspicion to utter delight.

"Now this is peak gift-giving," Matt declares, holding it up like a trophy. "Look at him! Adorable, squishy perfection."

Nick leans over, inspecting it. "Yeah, you both have the same vibes. Low effort, maximum cuddles."

Chris laughs, shaking his head. "You’re naming it, aren’t you?"

Matt shoots him a glare. "Excuse me, Chris. His name is Benson, and he’s already the best member of this family."

Nick claps sarcastically. "Congratulations, Matt. You’ve officially peaked."

Matt cradles the plushie dramatically. "Unlike you guys, Benson doesn’t come with chaos and unsolicited advice. He’s the perfect child."

Chris rolls his eyes, tossing a pillow at Matt. "You’re impossible."

Nick grabs a gift bag and hands it to me. "Alright, your turn. Let’s see if this tops Benson."

I open the bag to find a sleek designer purse. "Nick! How did you know I wanted this?"

Nick shrugs, a smirk playing on his lips. "I have my ways."

Chris smirks, grabbing a massive box and sliding it toward me. "Step aside, Nick. Let the real MVP take over."

I eye the box warily. "Chris, what did you do?"

"Only the best thing ever," he says, his smug grin making me both excited and nervous.

Inside the box is a treasure trove of makeup, skincare products, and items from my online wishlists.

"You bought everything in my cart?" I ask, stunned.

Chris leans back, looking proud. "You’re welcome. I pay attention."

Nick whistles. "Alright, I’ll give it to him. That’s pretty solid."

Matt smirks, reaching for two identical gift bags and handing them to his brothers. "Speaking of solid, these are for you."

Chris and Nick exchange a look before opening their bags. The room fills with laughter as they pull out identical boxes of condoms.

"Really, Matt?" Chris groans, holding the box up.

Nick examines his thoughtfully. "Top-shelf stuff. Thanks, man."

Matt leans back smugly. "Just looking out for my family. You’re welcome."

Chris tosses a pillow at him. "You’re ridiculous."

Matt grins. "Hey, someone has to be the responsible one."

Nick leans back, smirking. "Speaking of responsibility, I think it’s pretty clear who’s ready for kids in this family." He points between me and Chris.

I blush, ducking my head, while Chris raises an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, please," Nick says, waving a hand. "You’re practically counting down the days. Look at you two—domestic vibes all over the place."

Chris shrugs, his arm slipping around my shoulders. "What can I say? I like the idea of a little less chaos and a little more... us."

Matt snickers, hugging Benson. "Big words, bro. You know babies don’t sleep, right? Hope you’re ready for that level of chaos."

I laugh, nudging Chris. "I think we’d handle it just fine. I mean, I do love kids."

Chris glances at me, his expression softening. "Me too," he says quietly. "But maybe not right this second."

"Yeah," Nick cuts in, smirking. "You two can’t even agree on a movie without a debate. Imagine picking baby names."

I roll my eyes. "We’d figure it out."

Matt grins. "You say that now, but just wait until your kid decides 3 a.m. is playtime."

Chris smirks, pulling me closer. "We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Unlike you, Matt, I can handle more than a stuffed animal."

Matt gasps. "First of all, Benson is a low-maintenance angel. Secondly, he doesn’t steal my food like Nick does."

Nick shrugs, unbothered. "Consider it training for real-life parenting. You’re welcome."

The banter carries on, the room filled with laughter, teasing, and the warmth of family—perfectly chaotic and undeniably ours.

𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 : @emely9274 @gemzyy

𓄹 ࣪. like, reblog 𑁍 comment

﹒◟send me your requests and use an emoji if you want to stay anonymous. 𓂃

@/estellesdoll

divider by @miujo

[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.

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