#this creator helps me keep hope alive

[xecutivecucumber]

An excellent analysis on CX-2 and how his identity affects the narrative. It helps that it's very funny.

[seospicybin]

CAM.

CHAPTER I

Hyunjin x reader. (s,a)

CAM MASTERLIST

Synopsis: Struggling to make ends meet as an art student, Hyunjin never expected his quiet neighbor to change everything. Rumored to be an adult content creator, you offer him a deal—help you with your content, and you’ll help with his financial troubles. What starts as a simple arrangement soon blurs into something more, pulling Hyunjin into a world he never imagined. (24k words)

Author's note: I know, I know, it's another painter Hyunjin fic but I hope you enjoy this one too. Let me know what you think of it ♡

Hyunjin has always believed that art could save him. It’s the one thing that makes him feel alive, the one thing he’s truly good at. But lately, all it does is remind him of how little he has.

His apartment is nearly empty, stripped down to the bare essentials. Over the past few months, he’s sold most of his belongings—his desk, his chair, even the tiny bookshelf he once crammed with art books and sketchpads. Now, the only things left are his mattress on the floor and his paintings, propped against the walls like silent witnesses to his struggle.

He studies at one of the most prestigious art schools in the country, but that means nothing when he can barely afford rent. The part-time job at the movie theater helps, but scooping popcorn into greasy paper buckets isn’t enough to keep him afloat. He works long hours for little pay, and still, it’s never enough.

His gaze drifts to one of his canvases—a half-finished painting of a cityscape, the brushstrokes raw and expressive. He started it weeks ago, but inspiration feels like a luxury he can’t afford anymore. His stomach twists at the thought. What’s the point of talent if it can’t even keep him fed?

Hyunjin sits on the floor, legs crossed, a cup of steaming instant noodles balanced on his knee. The scent of artificial broth and sodium fills the air, but he barely tastes it as he absentmindedly twirls the noodles around his chopsticks. It’s the third night in a row he’s had this for dinner—not that he has much of a choice.

His gaze drifts back to the unfinished painting, the cityscape frozen in an incomplete haze of blues and grays. It’s supposed to be vibrant, full of movement, but instead, it just looks… stuck. Much like him.

He exhales sharply, pressing his lips together. The phrase echoes in his head, one he’s heard too many times before. A starving artist. He never thought he’d actually become one, but here he is—living proof of the cliché. Talented enough to get into an elite school, yet broke enough to be eating noodles on the floor of his half-empty apartment.

Hyunjin scoffs under his breath, stabbing at the noodles with his chopsticks. If this is what chasing a dream looks like, he wonders how much longer he can keep running.

Eventually, he forces himself to lie down, stretching out on the thin mattress. The cold seeps through the blankets, and the dim light from the streetlamp outside spills through the window, casting long shadows on the walls. His paintings watch over him in silence, the only company he has.

Sleep doesn’t come easily, but when it does, he dreams. Not of money, not of success, but of color. Brushstrokes filling in the empty spaces, shapes coming to life beneath his hands. In his dreams, his paintings are complete, vibrant, whole. And for a little while, he forgets what it feels like to be starving.

-

The road blurs past you in streaks of neon and streetlights, but you barely notice. Your hands grip the steering wheel a little too tight, jaw clenched as you replay the night over and over in your head. The music playing from your phone barely registers—just background noise to the mess of thoughts swirling inside you.

By the time you pull into your apartment’s parking lot, exhaustion settles into your bones. You climb out of the car, shutting the door with more force than necessary, and trudge upstairs. The hallway is quiet, the dim glow of the overhead lights flickering slightly, as if even the building itself is tired.

Inside, you don’t bother turning on the lights. You kick off your shoes, letting them land wherever, and collapse onto your bed. The sheets are cool against your skin, a small comfort in the storm brewing inside you. You shut your eyes, pressing the heels of your palms against them, willing yourself to hold it in.

But it’s no use. The weight in your chest swells, throat tightening as the emotions you’ve been shoving down all night claw their way up. A shaky breath escapes you. The burning behind your eyes grows unbearable. Just as you’re about to let the tears fall—

Ding. Your phone vibrates beside you. Once. Twice. Then again. You inhale sharply, the moment shattered. Swiping at your eyes, you roll over and grab your phone, blinking at the bright screen.

Lustre: New Notifications. Your vision clears just enough to read them. "Damn, baby, you looked so good in your last set. I swear, you’re my dream girl. Just say the word, and I’m yours."

A strangled laugh bubbles up, humorless and tired. If only they knew. If only they could see you now—mascara smudged, hair a mess, curled up in a hoodie like you’re trying to disappear.

Another buzz. More notifications. Your subscriber count is growing, which is good. You need it to be good. You force a smile, even if no one can see it, and type back a response.

"Aw, you’re so sweet! You always know how to make me smile."

A lie. But a necessary one. You hit send, set your phone down, and stare at the ceiling. Tonight, you don’t have the energy to be her—the version of you that they adore. But you will tomorrow.

-

The morning air is crisp, cool against your skin as you push yourself forward, feet hitting the pavement in steady rhythm. Music blasts through your headphones, drowning out the world, the steady beat fueling your movements. The run clears your head. It always does.

By the time you circle back to your apartment building, your pulse is steady, and the weight from last night feels a little lighter. Your body still hums from the run, but your mind is already shifting to the rest of your day. Routine. Work. Content.

Grabbing a glass from the counter, you fill it with water and take slow sips, letting yourself cool down. Absentmindedly, you reach for your phone and tap open Lustre.

The numbers are down. Subscriptions lower than yesterday. You exhale through your nose, trying not to let frustration creep in. Drops happen—it’s part of the game. But still, it stings. You need to do something. A new photoset? A livestream? Something to remind your audience why they subscribed in the first place. You’re still scrolling, running through ideas, when a sudden bang startles you.

"Hey! Open up!" The voice—sharp, impatient—cuts through the thin walls. You freeze mid-sip, eyes flicking toward your front door.

Another knock. Louder. "This is your landlord. Open the door."

You set your glass down and step closer to your own door, listening.

"You haven’t paid rent for three months," the landlord’s voice is tense, clipped. "This is your last warning, kid. Either you get me your three-month late rent money, or you’re out by the end of the week."

The neighbor you’ve barely spoken to—hasn’t paid rent in months. And if he doesn’t, he’s gone. You don’t know him, not really, but you know that kind of struggle. The kind where the walls feel like they’re closing in, where survival is a month-to-month gamble. And you know, somehow, that you could do something about it. But what?

You step back from the door, shaking your head. It’s not your problem. Still, as you finish your water and try to move on with your day, the thought lingers.

-

You sit cross-legged on your bed, laptop open in front of you, fingers idly scrolling through Lustre’s homepage. The interface is sleek, minimal, designed to make content easily accessible for subscribers. At a glance, everything looks normal—your page is still active, your past posts still getting engagement, but the numbers don’t lie.

Lustre works on a subscription model, where people pay monthly to access exclusive content from their favorite creators. The more they tip, the more they get—custom requests, private messages, even personalized videos if they’re willing to shell out enough. Some creators lean into the interactive side, chatting with their subscribers, selling a fantasy beyond just photos and videos. Others keep it strictly business, posting and logging off. You fall somewhere in between. Your content is polished but personal, curated to keep your audience hooked. Some days, it’s suggestive selfies with teasing captions. Other times, it’s short videos—close-up shots, soft lighting, all carefully edited to appear effortless. You’re careful with what you show, what you reveal. Enough to keep them interested, but not enough to let them in. And it pays well. More than well. You make enough to live comfortably, covering rent, groceries, and little indulgences without stress. But the industry is fickle. To sustain this lifestyle, you need a steady flow of subscribers. You can’t afford to plateau.

You tap your fingers against your thigh, thinking. Maybe a collaboration could help. You pull up your contacts and dial a number. It only rings twice before a familiar voice answers.

“Hey, babe,” Sienna greets, her tone smooth and easy. “Long time no talk.”

You smirk. “I know. That’s why I’m calling. I was thinking we could do something together soon—a collab, maybe a themed shoot?”

She hums thoughtfully. “I’d love to, but I’m out of town for a bit. Give me a couple of weeks?”

Damn. You were hoping for something sooner. Still, you nod, even though she can’t see you. “Yeah, of course. Let me know when you’re back.”

“Will do. And don’t stress too much—I’m sure you’ll come up with something killer in the meantime.”

After a few more pleasantries, you hang up and toss your phone onto the bed. You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. She’s right. You’ll figure something out. You always do. But what?

Your fingers drift to your laptop, scrolling through old posts, past content that once pulled in waves of subscribers. You need something fresh, something that’ll make people want to hit that subscribe button again.

As your mind runs through ideas, an image flashes in your head—Your neighbor, Hyunjin, struggling with the rent, the landlord’s voice sharp with warning. You shake your head, forcing the thought away. No. Not that. Not yet. For now, you need to focus. You take a deep breath and start drafting your next post.

-

Hyunjin rolls his shoulders as he steps into the apartment building, exhaustion settling deep in his bones. The lingering scent of butter and artificial cheese clings to his clothes, a reminder of another long shift at the movie theater. His feet ache, his stomach feels hollow, and all he wants is to collapse onto his mattress and pretend the world doesn’t exist. But then he sees you.

You’re sitting on the stairs leading up to the floors, elbows resting on your knees, scrolling through your phone. When you hear the door shut behind him, you glance up, a slow, easy smile stretching across your lips.

“Hey, neighbor.”

Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard. You’ve never really talked beyond polite nods in passing. And yet, you look at him like this is normal—like you’ve been waiting for him.

“Uh, hey,” he says, shifting his weight awkwardly.

You stand, slipping your phone into your pocket. “I was just about to grab a bite. Wanna come with?”

He hesitates. He shouldn’t. He’s tired. And he definitely doesn’t have the money to be eating out. But before he can find a way to politely refuse, you tilt your head, eyes twinkling with something close to amusement.

“I promise I’m not contagious,” you teasingly say. “And it's my treat.”

Hyunjin swallows. His pride tells him to decline. But his stomach—empty and twisting with hunger—betrays him. It’s been days since he’s had anything close to a real meal, and the idea of warm food that isn’t instant noodles makes his resolve waver.

“…Are you sure?” he asks quietly.

Your smile softens. “Yeah. Come on.”

And against his better judgment, he follows you out the door.

-

Hyunjin walks beside you, hands shoved deep into his pockets, the cool night air nipping at his skin. He keeps his gaze forward, but his thoughts are on you. He doesn’t know much about you. Not really.

You’re his neighbor, living just down the hall, and from what he can tell, you mostly keep to yourself. He sees you in passing—coming and going at odd hours, always with an easy smile but a guarded presence. You’re friendly, but never too familiar. Open, but never inviting. But if there’s one thing he does know, it’s the rumors.

Everyone in the building does. The whispered conversations in the stairwells, the way some of the older tenants lower their voices when your name comes up. They say you make money online, that men pay for glimpses of you, that you sell something intangible but addictive.

Hyunjin never cared much for gossip, never saw the point in judging someone for how they survive. But still, the stories linger. And now, walking beside you, he wonders—how much of it is true?

The restaurant is small but cozy, tucked between a convenience store and a laundromat. Hyunjin watches as you glance over the menu, tapping your fingers against the laminated surface. When the server comes by, you order effortlessly, like you’ve been here a dozen times before. He just follows your lead, picking something simple.

As the server walks away, you lean forward, resting your chin on your palm. “So,” you start, “what’s it like working at the movies?”

He shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” You arch a brow. “You spend your nights surrounded by popcorn and butter, and all you have to say is ‘fine’?”

A small huff of laughter escapes him. He glances down at his hoodie, still faintly smelling like the concession stand. “Well, if you like the scent of popcorn butter, I guess it’s great.”

You hum thoughtfully, then smirk. “I think you smell delicious.”

He freezes while you grin, like you know exactly what you just did, and he clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Uh. Thanks?”

Your laugh is soft, but it lingers. “So, what about your art? You go to that art school, right?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s… tough. Competitive.”

“But worth it?”

He hesitates. Once, he would have said yes without thinking. But now, with the weight of overdue rent and empty pockets pressing down on him, the answer isn’t so simple. Still, he nods again. “Yeah. It is.”

You study him for a moment, then tilt your head. “You know, you can ask me stuff too.”

You smile, patient, waiting. But his throat tightens. He doesn’t know what to ask. Or rather, he does, but he isn’t sure if he should. So he stays quiet.

The silence lingers between you, but you don’t seem bothered by it. If anything, you look amused, like you already know what’s on his mind.

So, before he can even think about asking, you beat him to it. “You know,” you start, swirling your straw in your drink, “the things people say about me? They’re true.”

He is once again caught off guard by your bluntness. You tilt your head slightly, watching him carefully. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No.” He leans back, arms crossed loosely. “I mean it. I don’t care what you do. People are free to do whatever they want.”

For the first time tonight, your smirk fades, replaced by something softer—something tired. You glance down at your drink, tapping your nails against the glass. Then you sigh, lips curving into a wistful smile. “Why can’t everyone be just like you?”

Hyunjin doesn’t have an answer for that. So, he just sits there, watching as you lift your glass to your lips, like you’ve already accepted that most people never will be.

-

Dinner carries on with a quiet sort of ease. There’s no rush, no forced conversation—just the occasional clink of utensils and the distant hum of restaurant chatter. Hyunjin doesn’t mind the silence. In fact, he prefers it. It’s easier than fumbling through words, easier than pretending he doesn’t notice the way you watch him, like you’re debating something in your head.

By the time you both step out into the night, the air is cooler, crisp with the promise of an approaching autumn. The walk back to the apartment is slow, neither of you in a hurry to get home. Then, just as you reach the building, you speak. “I, um… I heard you with the landlord today.” You pause, glancing at him carefully before continuing. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. It just… happened.”

He exhales, shoulders tensing, but keeps his expression neutral. “It’s fine.”

“I just—” You hesitate, then steel yourself. “Are you okay?”

He clenches his jaw. “I’ll deal with it.”

You nod slowly, accepting his answer. Then, after a beat, you add, “Well… if you ever need help with anything, you can come to me.”

It’s a simple offer, one spoken with sincerity, but something in Hyunjin bristles at it. “I don’t need help,” he says, a little too quickly. A little too sharp.

You blink, surprised by the sudden edge in his voice. Then, just as quickly as it appeared, your expression shifts—closing off, retreating into something unreadable. “…Okay,” you say, voice softer now.

Arriving in your shared floor, you and Hyunjin naturally slow down, each lingering at your respective doors. There’s an unspoken finality in the air, a quiet end to the night.

Just as you reach for the handle, Hyunjin speaks up. “Hey.”

You pause, glancing back at him, one hand lingers on the handle of the door.

He shifts his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. For the meal.” His voice is quieter than before, but there’s a rare sincerity in it. “I appreciate it.”

A slow smile curves your lips, one that softens the tension that had settled between you earlier. “Anytime,” you say, then tilt your head. “Goodnight.”

Before he can respond, you slip inside your apartment, the door clicking shut behind you. Hyunjin exhales and turns to his own door, pushing it open and stepping into the dimly lit space. The quiet greets him immediately—no TV, no background noise, just the faint hum of the city outside his window. As he kicks off his shoes and sets his bag down, his mind drifts back to your conversation. To the way you had offered to help. To the way he had snapped. He groans under his breath, rubbing his hands over his face. Was he rude? He probably was. He should have apologized. But it’s too late now.

With a sigh, he sinks onto his mattress, staring at the ceiling. The weight of everything—rent, work, school—presses down on him, but somewhere beneath it, there’s also the memory of your fading smile when he strongly refused your help. And for some reason, that lingers the longest.

-

The end of the week creeps up on Hyunjin faster than he’d like. Despite working extra shifts at the theater and even considering selling a few more of his paintings, he still doesn’t have enough to cover the three months of overdue rent. He’s close—but close isn’t enough. So, with a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach, he makes his way to his landlord’s apartment. His plan is simple: offer to pay half now and ask for more time to cover the rest. It’s not ideal, but it’s the best he can do.

When the landlord opens the door, Hyunjin clears his throat, trying to keep his voice steady. “Sir, I wanted to talk about my rent—”

“Already taken care of,” the landlord interrupts, arms crossed.

Hyunjin blinks. “What?”

“Paid in full,” the landlord says, eyeing him suspiciously. “Didn’t think you had it in you to come up with that much money so quickly.”

A strange sensation washes over Hyunjin. His mind races, piecing things together before he even has to ask. There’s only one person who would do this. His jaw tightens. His fingers curl into fists at his sides. Without another word, he turns on his heel, heart pounding, already making his way to your apartment.

-

A sharp, insistent banging on your door pulls you from your thoughts as you’re enjoying your breakfast. You barely have time to process before Hyunjin’s voice comes through. “It’s me, your neighbor.”

You sigh, already knowing what this is about. When you unlock the door and pull it open, Hyunjin stands there, chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, jaw tight with frustration. “You paid my rent,” he says, cutting straight to the point. His voice is low, but there’s an edge to it, like he’s holding himself back from saying more.

You step aside and open the door wider to let him in. “Please, come in.”

He hesitates for a moment before stepping past you, his presence filling the small space of your apartment. You close the door behind him, watching as he runs a hand through his dark hair, clearly trying to collect himself. “I didn’t ask for your help,” he says, turning to face you. His eyes are sharp, his expression a mix of frustration and something else—something unsure.

You remain calm, leaning back against the counter. “I know you didn’t.”

“Then why did you do it?”

You exhale, keeping your voice even. “Because I wanted to.”

He lets out a dry laugh, shaking his head. “That’s not a reason.”

“Does there have to be one?” you counter. “I had the money. You needed it.”

“I don’t want charity,” he snaps.

“It’s not charity,” you say calmly. “I’m not giving you the money for free.”

Hyunjin stops short, confusion flickering in his eyes. “…What do you mean?”

You walk past him, grabbing two cans from your fridge and offering him one. He takes it hesitantly, watching you warily as you settle onto the couch. After a beat, he sits down too, though his posture is still tense. “I want you to work for it,” you say simply.

He raises a brow. “Doing what?”

You take a sip of your drink before setting it down. “You know what I do, right?”

The rumors have been around for a while but again, he's not one to care about other people's business. His jaw tenses slightly, but he nods.

“I create content for Lustre,” you continue. “It’s a subscription-based platform where people pay for exclusive content. My content is... adult-oriented, but it’s more than just that.”

Hyunjin looks down at the can of drink he's been holding in his hand, letting you continue.

“I don’t just post random pictures or videos,” you explain. “I put effort into making everything look good. I plan my shoots, choose my outfits carefully, pay attention to lighting, angles, and themes. It’s about aesthetics as much as anything else.”

Hyunjin listens, his fingers tapping against the can in his hands.

“I need fresh content,” you continue. “Something more artistic, more professional. My subscriber count has been dropping, and I need to do something about it. That’s where you come in.”

He's clearly thrown off. “…Me?”

“You’re an artist,” you say. “You understand composition, lighting, angles. You could help me take my content to the next level.”

He stares at you, processing. Then, he exhales sharply, shaking his head. “So let me get this straight. You paid my rent, and in return, you want me to work for you, to take pictures of you… for Lustre?”

You meet his gaze steadily. “Yes.”

He lets out a laugh—disbelieving, maybe a little incredulous. “This is insane.”

You take a small sip of your drink and grin. “Well, just a little.”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. He just sits there, staring at the floor, fingers still lightly drumming against his drink. You don’t push him. You know he needs time. But the idea is planted and now, all you have to do is wait.

-

Hyunjin drags his brush across the canvas, but the bristles are frayed, splitting at the edges. He dips it into the last bit of his acrylic paint, scraping the bottom of the tube to get whatever’s left. It’s barely enough. His fingers tighten around the brush as he pulls back to examine his work. The colors aren’t blending the way he wants, and it’s not because of his technique—it’s because his supplies are running out. He needs new brushes, fresh paint, better canvases. But all of that costs money—money he doesn’t have.

A sigh escapes him just as a classmate, Edgar, calls his name. “Hyunjin, you coming?”

He looks up to see one of his friends slinging their bag over their shoulder, waiting for him. He knows what they’re asking—everyone’s heading out to grab food, maybe unwind a little after a long day of classes. He wishes he could say yes.

“Nah, I’ve got work,” he says, wiping his hands on his already paint-stained jeans.

Edgar gives him a look, somewhere between pity and understanding. “You work too much, man.”

Hyunjin forces a small smile. “Tell that to my landlord.”

The conversation ends there. Edgar gives him a pat on the shoulder before leaving, and Hyunjin watches them go, reminding him of what he's missed when he's busy making ends meet

By the time he gets to the movie theater, he’s already drained. The hours crawl by as he scoops popcorn, wipes down counters, and pretends not to hear customers complaining about overpriced snacks. His manager is breathing down his neck, calling him back whenever he tries to sneak a second of rest. The pay isn’t worth it. The stress isn’t worth it. By the end of his shift, he’s had enough. As he walks home, his fingers curl into fists at his sides. His mind keeps circling back to your offer, the one he brushed off at first. But now, with his bills piling up and his art suffering because he can’t afford the basics, it doesn’t seem so ridiculous anymore.

Since no one is answering the door, Hyunjin decides to sit on the steps that leads to your shared floor, elbows resting on his knees, fingers loosely interlocked. The night air is cool, and the faint hum of the city fills the space around him, but his mind is loud—circling, overthinking, hesitating.

When he sees you appearing on the steps, he straightens up, nerves buzzing. You don’t notice him at first, distracted as you dig through your bag, but when you lift your head, your brows raise slightly in surprise.

Hyunjin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. Then, before he can talk himself out of it, he says, “I’ll do it.”

You blink at him as you slowly pull your hand out of your bag, the keys jingling between your fingers. “Do what?”

He looks up at you, eyes unreadable. “The job.”

For a second, you just stare at him, as if making sure you heard right. Then, your lips curve into the smallest smirk. “Took you long enough.”

Hyunjin doesn’t laugh. He just nods once, his jaw tight, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “Just tell me when we start.”

You tilt your head, considering him. Then, you nod toward the stairs. “Let’s talk about it at my place.”

Hyunjin sits stiffly on the edge of your sofa, fingers drumming against his knee as he watches you disappear into the kitchen. He’s still not sure how he ended up here so quickly. Just an hour ago, he was still trying to convince himself he could make things work on his own. Now, he’s about to get a firsthand look at exactly what he signed up for.

You return with a can of drink, holding it out to him. “Here,” you say, settling beside him on the sofa.

“Thanks,” he mutters, popping the tab. The cool fizz against his throat does nothing to ease the tension in his shoulders.

You grab your laptop from the side table and place it on the coffee table in front of you, opening it up with practiced ease. “Okay,” you say, “before we get into details, I think you should see what you’re working with.”

Hyunjin nods hesitantly, watching as you pull up your page on Lustre. The sleek layout fills the screen, and the first thing that catches his eye is your profile picture—a sultry but tasteful shot of you draped in soft, golden light, wearing nothing but a loosely tied silk robe. Your bio is playful, teasing, with a winking emoji at the end. Then, you scroll down. His eyes catch on the rows of thumbnails displaying your content. His face heats up instantly.

There are suggestive selfies, carefully posed yet intimate—close-up shots of your lips slightly parted, your fingers toying with the hem of a lace bralette. Some photos show you in bed, bathed in dim lighting, the sheets barely covering your bare skin. Others are more artistic, using shadows and colors to frame your body in ways that feel sensual but not overtly explicit.

Then there are the videos. His breath catches slightly when he sees the previews—short clips of you adjusting the straps of your lingerie, slow movements of fabric sliding down your shoulders, the flicker of a smirk before the video cuts off. He clenches his jaw, eyes darting anywhere but the screen.

You notice immediately. “Are you blushing?” you tease, tilting your head to look at him.

“No,” he lies, voice tight.

You lean in slightly and playfully bump his shoulder with yours, amusement dancing in your eyes. “You are.”

Hyunjin huffs out a breath, staring at a random spot on the wall. “I just—” He gestures vaguely at the screen. “I wasn’t expecting to see… all that.”

You chuckle, scrolling through the page like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “You’re gonna have to get used to it. If you’re taking my pictures, you’re gonna see a lot more than just thumbnails.”

Hyunjin swallows. Hard. You watch him struggle for a second before laughing softly. “Relax,” you say, nudging his knee with yours. “I promise I won’t bite.”

Despite your teasing, he keeps his gaze locked on the laptop screen as his mind starts to drift. It’s not just the content that has his heart hammering—it’s you. The way you carry yourself, the way you look in your photos and videos. Confident. Beautiful. Completely at ease in your own skin. He wonders if you always look like that, or if it’s something you turn on for the camera. Either way, he can’t deny how stunning you are. He clears his throat, pushing those thoughts away before they can take root. “I like your content,” he says, trying to keep his voice neutral.

You turn to him, raising a brow. “Oh?”

Realizing how that might’ve sounded, he quickly shakes his head. “I mean—! I didn’t mean it like—” He nervously rubs his lips. “I just meant that… you have a distinct taste. And you actually did great with the artistic elements. The lighting, the composition—it’s impressive.”

A slow smile spreads across your lips, and it’s different from the teasing ones you’ve given him before. This one is softer. Genuine. “Thank you,” you say, and Hyunjin feels a strange warmth settle in his chest.

He likes the way you’re smiling at him. Not in a way that’s meant to seduce or entertain, but like you actually appreciate his words. It makes him want to say more. To let you know that he really does admire what you’ve built for yourself, that there’s something captivating about you beyond the content you create but he thinks it's best to keep those thoughts to himself.

Your expression shifts, the playful teasing fading as you prop a hand under your chin. “So, what do you think?” you ask, tilting your head slightly. “Any ideas for new content?”

Hyunjin exhales, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t know… What do you usually do to prepare?”

You shrug. “I plan out the concept first, depending on the theme I want to go for. Then I figure out the setup—lighting, camera angles, outfits, or props if I need them. Once that’s done, I shoot everything myself, edit, and post.”

His eyes widen, surprised and impressed all at once. “You do all of that alone?”

“Yeah,” you say simply. “It’s a lot of work, but I’ve gotten used to it.”

He watches you for a moment, considering. “Then… why do you suddenly want me to work for you?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Because I like your art.”

Hyunjin blinks, confused. “What?”

You lean back into the sofa, your eyes flickering with amusement at his reaction. “I saw some of your paintings before.”

That catches him off guard. His brows furrow in intrigue. “When?”

“When you moved into the building,” you admit. “I saw a few canvases when you were carrying them inside. I didn’t say anything back then, but I could tell they were good.”

Hyunjin grips the can in his hands a little tighter. No one’s ever said that to him before—not like that. Sure, his professors give him critiques, and his classmates throw around compliments in passing, but no one has ever told him they like his art in such a simple, assured way. And it’s not just empty flattery. You didn’t even need to say it. You could’ve just left it at needing a photographer, but instead, you told him you liked his work—like it meant something to you.

A strange warmth spreads in his chest, unfamiliar yet comforting. He clears his throat, willing away the feeling before it shows on his face. He keeps his gaze on the table, pretending to focus on the laptop screen. “So… what exactly do you want me to do?” he asks, keeping his voice steady.

You smile knowingly, as if you already saw through him. But instead of pushing, you shift back to business. “Let’s start by figuring out a new concept together.”

-

The bus ride to the hotel isn’t long, but it feels like it stretches forever. By the time he reaches the lobby, he’s convinced half the people he passed on the way somehow know where he’s going and why. It’s ridiculous, but the thought lingers as he takes the elevator up to the room number you texted him earlier. When he knocks, you open the door almost instantly. You’re wrapped in a plush white bathrobe, hair damp, skin fresh, like you just stepped out of the shower. The sight catches him off guard for a second, but he quickly averts his gaze.

“Hey,” you greet, stepping aside to let him in. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, clearing his throat. He steps into the room, glancing around.

It’s a standard hotel setup—nothing fancy, just clean white sheets, warm lighting, and a minimalist design. But the setting certainly fits the concept for the shoot. His eyes land on the open suitcase in the corner, half-filled with outfits. He sets his backpack down and walks up to the camera bag you brought with you for the shoot. “Why a hotel, though?” he asks as he checks the settings. “Couldn’t you just do this at home?”

You walk over to the vanity, grabbing a few items from your makeup bag. “I don’t like filming in my apartment,” you say, meeting his gaze in the mirror. “It’s too personal.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to explain, his fingers playing with the strap of the camera.

“There’s always a way for people to trace things back,” you continue. “Background details, windows, even furniture—some people are really good at figuring out locations. It’s safer to keep my personal space private.”

Hyunjin nods slowly, processing your words. He never thought about it that way, but it makes sense. The internet is full of people who dig into things they shouldn’t.

You turn around, giving him a small smile. “Besides, a change of scenery keeps things interesting.”

He swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of where he is and what’s about to happen. He focuses on adjusting the camera, forcing himself to ignore the fact that this is the closest he’s ever been to something like this and it’s only just beginning.

“What do you think?” You turn to him for input, gesture to your face as you finish applying a natural-looking makeup. “Too much?”

He looks up, taking in the soft glow on your cheeks, the tint of color on your lips. “It looks fine,” he says, then quickly corrects himself. “I mean—it suits you. Not too much, not too little.”

You nod, studying yourself in the mirror before shifting your focus back to your suitcase. “Okay, now the outfit.” You pull out a few options, holding them up for him to see. “Which one do you think works better for the concept?”

He wasn’t expecting to have this much say in things. “Uh…” He looks between the options—a loose white shirt on one hand, a form-fitting tank top in the other.

“The second one,” he finally says. “It kind of… I don’t know, fits the mood?”

You grin, pleased with his answer. “Good eye.”

Hyunjin watches as you move with purpose, preparing everything down to the smallest details. The way you adjust the lighting, make sure the background is uncluttered, and double-check your angles in the mirror—it’s meticulous, professional.

And it hits him. You’re not just going through the motions. You’re building something. Crafting an image, telling a story, making sure every little detail aligns with what you want to put out there.

Most people probably never think about that. They look at the surface, assume it’s easy money, that it’s just flashing skin for a paycheck. But standing here, watching you work, Hyunjin sees the reality of it. The planning, the effort, the sheer amount of control you have over every aspect—it’s impressive. And maybe it’s a little frustrating, too. Because you deserve to be seen for the work you put in, not just the end result.

The concept you both decided on was natural—soft lighting, simple outfits, nothing too forced or artificial. Just you, as you are.

Hyunjin adjusts the camera on the tripod, testing the focus as he glances at you. You sit on the edge of the bed, dressed in a white cotton tank top and matching underwear. The fabric clings to your body, and he has to remind himself to stay professional when he catches the faint outline of your nipples pressing against the thin material. He clears his throat, forcing himself to concentrate on the technical aspects—lighting, composition, framing.

“Alright,” he mutters to himself, taking a few test shots. He adjusts the settings, clicking through the images on the small screen. “It’s looking good so far.”

You stretch your legs out, tilting your head slightly. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nods, still checking the photos. “We should probably start now before we lose the light.”

He tries to focus on the viewfinder, but it’s hard when you’re looking at the camera like that. He knows you’re posing, that you’re looking straight into the lens, but something about your gaze makes his stomach flip. It’s like you’re seeing right through him, pulling him into something he’s not sure he’s ready for. He tells himself it’s just a job. Just art. Just another step in this strange new path he’s taken. So why does his pulse feel a little too fast?

“Uh—try sitting up a little,” he directs, shifting the angle. You move effortlessly, folding your legs beneath you as you rest your hands on your thighs. The sunlight filtering through the hotel curtains casts soft shadows over your skin, making everything look warmer, more intimate. He keeps clicking the shutter, his voice coming out steadier than he expected. “Now, lay back—yeah, just like that. Relax your arms a little.”

You follow his instructions with ease, stretching out over the bed, your hair fanning out over the pillows. He swallows hard, adjusting the focus, but something’s off. He lowers the camera, stepping closer. “Wait,” he murmurs.

You blink up at him as he hesitates, reaching out. “Your hair’s a little—” His fingers brush against your skin as he smooths out a few stray strands. Your eyes meet his for a split second, and suddenly, Hyunjin feels like the one under the lens.

He quickly steps back, gripping the camera tighter. “Okay. That’s better. Let’s keep going.”

Taking a quick break in between shots, Hyunjin scrolls through the photos with you, his shoulder almost brushing against yours as you sit together on the edge of the bed. The soft glow of the afternoon sun highlights the contours of your face as you lean in, eyes scanning over the shots on the camera screen.

“These are really good,” you say, nodding in approval. “You have a good eye.”

“It’s just the lighting,” he mutters, but deep down, he knows that’s not true.

There’s something about the way you carry yourself, the way you mold into the atmosphere so effortlessly .You hum in response, then, without warning, you reach for the hem of your tank top and pull it over your head. You’re standing in front of him now, nothing but a pair of white underwear covering you, your bare skin illuminated by the soft sunlight.

His mind blanks. He’s seen bodies in art books, in sketches, in paintings—but this? This is something else entirely.

You glance at him, and when you see his face, you chuckle. “You should feel lucky, you know,” you tease, planting your hands on each side of your waist in an effortless display of confidence. “You get to see it for free.”

He blinks rapidly, snapping himself out of whatever daze he just fell into. He shifts his grip on the camera and clears his throat. “Right,” he says again, trying to focus on adjusting the settings instead of the warmth crawling up his neck. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

You smirk, stepping back onto the bed as if nothing happened. But Hyunjin? He knows this job just got a lot harder. He swallows hard as you slide the last remaining piece of clothing down your hips and let it fall off the bed.

Now, you’re completely bare and shift onto your stomach, propping yourself up slightly with your elbows. Your legs stretch out behind you, one knee bent just enough to create a natural curve in your body. It’s an effortless pose, something he might’ve seen in a Renaissance painting, and the soft lighting only adds to the surrealism of it all.

You turn your head toward him, eyes lidded with a knowing look. “What do you think?”

Hyunjin barely hears you over the pounding in his ears. His gaze flickers between the camera and your form, and before he can stop himself, the words slip past his lips. “You’re beautiful.”

You chuckle, the sound light and teasing. “I meant my pose, but thanks.”

“Yeah, uh...” he stammer, pretending to adjust the camera settings to mask his flustered state. “The pose is… good. But maybe lift your chin a little. And turn just a bit more toward the light.”

You do as he says, stretching slightly, shifting your body in a way that somehow makes everything even more alluring. And then—

You push yourself up from the bed, completely unbothered by your nudity as you walk toward the floor-to-ceiling window, where the sheer white curtains billow slightly from the gentle breeze.

The afternoon light filters through the fabric, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. He keeps his camera steady, but his breath catches in his throat when you glance over your shoulder at him. “How about this?” you ask, fingers brushing over the delicate material. “You can shoot me from behind the curtain. The light will create a silhouette effect.”

He quietly inhales air, nodding stiffly. “Yeah. That’s… that’s a great idea.”

You step behind the sheer fabric, the sunlight casting your figure in a diffused glow. The curtain clings to your form in places, outlining the curve of your waist, the dip of your spine, the gentle swell of your hips.

He adjusts the lens, his fingers moving on autopilot as he frames the shot. Click. Through the camera, he watches the way your arms move, the way your fingers skim over your bare skin as you shift slightly. The light makes everything look softer—your body, your skin, your presence.

Hyunjin shouldn’t be staring. Shouldn’t be imagining what it would feel like to trace those curves with his hands instead of just his eyes. He forces himself to focus, adjusting his stance as he takes another shot. Then another.

After a moment, you step out from behind the sheer curtain, hugging yourself as you sigh. “I think that’s a wrap for today.”

He immediately lowers the camera and practically scrambles to grab your bathrobe from the chair. He thrusts it toward you without making eye contact, his ears tinged pink. “Here.”

You let out a soft laugh as you slip your arms into the robe but don’t bother tying it just yet. “You must be really bothered by my body.”

Hyunjin nearly chokes on nothing. “W-What?”

You grin at his reaction, tilting your head as you watch him struggle for a response.

His fingers tighten around the camera strap, his jaw working as he fumbles for words. “I-I just thought you might be cold,” he mutters, eyes darting to the side.

You chuckle, tying the robe loosely around your waist. “I’m just messing with you.”

He exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, still refusing to meet your gaze. But even as he busies himself with the camera, you catch the way his hands shake just slightly. You smirk to yourself. Hyunjin is cute when he’s flustered.

“Okay, enough with work,” You step closer to him and gently take the camera from his hands, setting it down on the table. Before he can protest, you grab the room service menu and place it in his hands instead. “Pick something for dinner.”

He's looking down at the menu as if it’s something foreign in his hands. “Wait—I don’t—”

“You have to eat, right?” you cut in before he can argue. “And besides, having dinner with me is part of the job.”

His brows furrow. “How is that part of the job?”

“You worked hard today. I take care of my crew,” you simply answer.

He huffs a small laugh. “Crew? It’s just me.”

“All the more reason to take care of you.” You cross your arms, smirking. “Now, pick something before I do it for you.”

He looks at you for a moment, as if debating whether or not to fight you on this. But in the end, he sighs in defeat and flips open the menu.

-

As you scroll through the photos on your laptop, a satisfied smile tugs at your lips. You knew Hyunjin was talented, but seeing his work firsthand only reassures you that you made the right decision in asking him to help with your content. The way he captures light, shadows, and your expressions—it’s more than just photography. It’s art.

“You’re really good at this, you know?” you say, glancing up at him.

Hyunjin, who’s sitting across from you on the sofa, looks up from his plate of food. He chews thoughtfully before replying, “Thanks… I just did what felt right.”

“Well, you did it right,” you say, tapping the screen. “I can already tell these are going to do well.”

As the two of you eat dinner in the hotel room, the conversation shifts to logistics—when to post, when to do another shoot. Hyunjin listens attentively, nodding as you break down your usual timeframe for content releases. “I’ll get these retouched as soon as possible,” he says, setting his fork down.

You shake your head. “Take your time. I don’t want you to rush and burn yourself out. In fact,” you continue, pointing your fork at him, “I don’t want this job to interfere with your classes.”

Hyunjin blinks, caught off guard by your seriousness. He expected you to be all business about this, but instead, you’re concerned about him.

“I mean it,” you add.

He exhales softly, then gives a small, genuine nod. “Alright.”

After dinner, Hyunjin immediately gathers his things and then carefully placing the camera back into the bag. You watch him as he moves around the room, methodical and a little too eager to leave, like he can’t stand being in the same room with you for long.

“You really don’t want to stay?” you ask again, tilting your head as you lean against the doorway.

He pauses, lips parting slightly before he exhales through his nose. “I have class tomorrow morning,” he reminds you, polite but firm.

You nod, pretending you’re not at all disappointed by his refusal. “Okay. Be careful on your way home.”

He shifts his bag higher on his shoulder and glances at you. “Thanks for dinner,” he says, his voice softer now.

“Thanks for today,” You say back with a smile, lingering by the doorway as he heads out.

Hyunjin hesitates for just a second before nodding, then turns away. You watch as he disappears down the hallway, the quiet click of the hotel door the only thing left between you.

You exhale, pushing off the frame, and let a small smirk creep onto your lips. He’s polite, professional—but you can tell that he’s still affected. And that? That’s interesting.

-

A month passes in a blur of work, shoots, and discussions for the next concepts. You settle into a rhythm with Hyunjin—he’s professional, almost frustratingly so, but his work is undeniably good. Better than you expected. And now, standing in line at the bakery after your morning run, you see just how much of a difference he’s made. You check Lustre while waiting, scrolling through the analytics. The numbers have shot up—subscriptions, engagement, everything. A satisfied smirk tugs at your lips.

When it’s your turn, you place an order for pastries and two coffees, humming to yourself as you carry the warm bag back home. Instead of heading straight to your apartment, you stop in front of Hyunjin’s door and knock.

There’s some shuffling inside before the door cracks open, revealing a very groggy Hyunjin. His long dark hair is messy, and the sleep still clings to his face as he squints at you.

“What…?” His voice is hoarse, and it’s almost cute. Almost.

You lift the bag and grin. “Good morning. I brought breakfast.”

He steps aside to let you in, still half-asleep as he mumbles something about needing to wash up. You make your way to the worn-out couch in his small apartment, setting the bag of pastries and coffee on the rickety table in front of you.

As you sit waiting for Hyunjin, your eyes wander around the space. It’s… concerning, to say the least. The place is cramped, barely holding the essentials. A few dishes sit abandoned in the sink, and the shelves sag under the weight of books and art supplies. There’s barely any decoration—just functional, mismatched furniture that looks like it’s been here longer than he has. But then, your gaze lands on the canvases propped against the wall, some half-covered with cloth, others left bare, revealing his work. Paints, brushes, and sketchbooks clutter the small desk in the corner, a contrast to the rest of the room. The strokes on the canvas are expressive, raw, filled with emotion in a way that makes you pause. So this is what he spends his money on.

Before you can take a closer look, you hear the bathroom door creak open. Hyunjin steps out, his hair damp from a quick wash, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he joins you. “You didn’t have to do this,” he mutters, eyeing the food.

“I wanted to,” you reply, handing him a coffee. “Besides, I have good news to share.”

He takes a sip of his coffee as you both settle into breakfast, the scent of warm pastries filling the small apartment. It’s quiet for a moment, the two of you simply eating, before you decide to share something with him.

“I want to reach 100,000 subscribers soon,” you say, breaking the silence.

He glances up from his food, chewing thoughtfully before replying, “You’re already doing well. Don’t stress too much about the numbers.”

“I know, but it’s a milestone,” you admit as you tear a piece of bread. “Something to work toward.”

He hums in response, nodding as he takes another bite. Unlike you, he seems completely unbothered by the idea of numbers and growth. Maybe it’s because he isn’t the one relying on it, but his calmness is oddly reassuring.

You hesitate before carefully bringing up the subject that’s been on your mind since you walked in. “Hey, um… your apartment.”

He raises an eyebrow, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “What about it?”

“You don’t have much in here,” you say, treading lightly. “Did you, like… going through a renovation?”

He exhales, leaning back in his chair. “Sold most of it,” he says simply. “Needed the money.”

Your chest tightens at his words. It’s one thing to know he’s struggling—it’s another to hear it so plainly. You think for a moment before saying, “I actually have a desk at my place. Bought it a while ago, but it’s just been collecting dust because I don’t have the energy to assemble it. You can have it.”

Hyunjin immediately shakes his head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t need—”

“You do,” you cut in gently. “You need a proper workspace. Especially now that you’re helping me with my content.”

He hesitates, chewing on the inside of his cheek. You press on. “It’ll help with productivity,” you add, playfully bumping your knee with his. “Consider it an investment in our work.”

-

After finishing breakfast, Hyunjin helps clear the table while you rinse the dishes in his small sink. He insists he can do it later, but you wave him off, saying, “It’s not a big deal.”

He doesn’t argue, just leans against the counter and watches you work, still a little surprised that you’re here, in his apartment, like this. It’s… nice.

Once you’re done, you dry your hands on a paper towel and turn to him. “So, do you want to get the desk now?”

Hyunjin hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need it?”

“I told you, it’s just been collecting dust,” you say with a shrug. “It’ll be put to better use in your place.”

After a moment, he gives in with a small sigh. “Alright, fine.”

The walk to your apartment is short, you unlock the door and step inside, stretching your arms above your head and on then Hyunjin realizes that you're wearing a tight workout attire. He quickly averts his gaze when your top lifts slightly, revealing a hint of your waist. He busies himself with taking off his shoes as you disappear into a small storage room.

“It’s in here,” you call out.

He follows, stepping into the narrow space just as you bend down to drag out the box. His breath hitches before he can stop it. Your leggings stretch over your curves, the fabric clung to you like a second skin and he forces himself to look anywhere else, jaw clenching.

“I can get it,” he says quickly, stepping in before you can lift the box on your own.

You straighten up and smirk at him. “Are you sure? It’s pretty heavy.”

“I got it,” he insists, gripping the sides of the box and lifting it.

You watch him struggle for a second before chuckling. “Alright, strong man, let’s get it to your place.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond, leading the way out of your apartment. You follow close behind as he carries the box down the hallway, hands in your pockets as you casually watch him struggle just a little. His arms are strong, but the box is bulky, and you can tell he’s adjusting his grip every few steps.

“You sure you don’t need help with that?” you ask, tilting your head.

Hyunjin exhales sharply. “Unless you’re offering to assemble it for me…”

You hum, pretending to consider it. “Mm… no, I don’t think I have the skills for that.” Then you grin. “But I can be your cheerleader while you do it.”

He lets out a surprised laugh, shifting the box in his arms. “Oh, yeah? You gonna sit there with pom-poms and a little skirt?”

You smirk at him and say, “If that’s what gets you motivated.”

His laugh turns into a short cough, and you catch the way his ears turn pink. He clears his throat and focuses on the door in front of him, pushing it open with his shoulder before stepping inside.

You follow, shutting the door behind you. “Alright, let’s see if you can actually put this thing together,” you say, stepping around him to nudge the box with your foot. “Or are you gonna need me to call in reinforcements?”

Hyunjin scoffs, dropping the box onto the floor with a thud. “Please. I got this.”

You plop down on the worn-out couch, crossing your legs. “Go on, then. Impress me.”

He huffs but can’t stop the small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re really just gonna sit there and watch?”

You nod with a sly grin plastered on your face. “And encourage. That’s the role of a cheerleader, after all.”

Hyunjin chuckles again, shaking his head as he kneels next to the box and starts tearing it open. He wasn’t expecting this morning to turn into a build-your-own-desk adventure, but with you sitting there, grinning at him like that, he doesn’t really mind. However, a moment later, your phone buzzes on the couch beside you, and when you glance at the screen, your expression shifts slightly. Hyunjin notices—he’s been sneaking glances at you between sorting out the desk pieces.

You sigh, standing up and slipping your phone into your pocket. “Looks like I gotta go.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Already? And here I was, counting on my personal cheerleader to get me through this.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Sorry to disappoint. But hey, at least I cheered you on for the first five minutes.”

He feigns a heavy sigh and frowns. “How will I ever finish this now?”

You roll your eyes but smile. “You’ll survive.”

Before stepping toward the door, you turn back to him. “Oh, by the way—don’t forget about the shoot this weekend.”

Hyunjin nods, brushing his hands off on his sweatpants. “Got it. Same as last time?”

“Not exactly.” You smirk. “This one’s a collaboration.”

That makes him pause. “A collaboration?”

“Mhm.” You give him a little wave before heading for the door. “We’ll talk details later. Have fun with the desk!”

He watches the door click shut, the faint sound of your footsteps disappearing down the hall. He exhales, running a hand through his hair before looking back at the unassembled desk sprawled across his floor. “A collaboration, huh?” he mutters to himself.

The word lingers in his mind as he picks up the instruction manual. You hadn’t given any details, but the idea of working with someone else on your content stirs something unfamiliar in him. It’s not his place to feel anything about it—you’re just his boss, and he’s just your photographer. But still… He won’t overthink it. It’s just a job. But as he tightens the last screw, he can’t help but wonder: who exactly is this collaboration with? And why does the thought of it make his stomach twist?

-

Hyunjin stares out the window, watching the city blur past as you drive. The radio hums softly in the background, but his mind is elsewhere. He’s been holding back his curiosity, but now that you’re well on your way to… wherever this shoot is happening, he finally speaks up.

“So,” he starts, shifting in his seat to glance at you, “this collaboration… how does it work?”

You keep your eyes on the road but smile slightly at his question. “It’s pretty simple. Sometimes, creators work together to gain more engagement. Their audience sees my content, my audience sees theirs—it’s a win-win.”

He nods slowly, processing your words. He understands the strategy, but the idea of you working with someone else on this—letting someone else into the space that’s been just you and him—unsettles him in a way he doesn’t fully understand. “And who are you collaborating with?” he asks, trying to sound casual.

You glance at him for a brief second before turning back to the road. “A friend of mine. She’s been in this line of work longer than I have. She’s the one who gave me tips when I first started.”

A friend. A woman. He didn’t realize how much tension had built up in his shoulders until he felt them relax. He scolds himself internally—why did it even matter?

“And she agreed to it?” he asks, more out of politeness than anything else.

“She was actually the one who suggested it,” you reply with a small laugh. “I mentioned how you’ve been helping me, and she got curious. Said she wanted to see your work in action.”

That makes Hyunjin sit up straighter. “She knows about me?”

“Well, she knows I hired a photographer,” you correct, throwing him a teasing glance. “I didn’t tell her everything about you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He clears his throat and looks away. He’s not sure why that thought unsettled him either. “So… where exactly are we shooting?” he asks, shifting the subject.

“You’ll see when we get there,” you say, lips curling into a smirk.

Hyunjin follows closely behind you as you lead the way through the quiet hallway. His hands fiddling with the strap of the camera bag, his nerves barely concealed as he watches you stop in front of a door and press the doorbell.

A moment later, the door swings open, revealing a woman with golden brown skin and tight, voluminous curls that frame her face. She’s dressed casually in a cropped hoodie and fitted shorts, but there’s an effortless confidence in the way she carries herself. The second she sees you, her entire face lights up. “Oh my god, there she is!” she exclaims before pulling you into a tight hug. You laugh, hugging her back just as eagerly.

Hyunjin stands there awkwardly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He isn’t sure what he expected, but her warm, welcoming energy instantly fills the space, making it feel like you’ve known each other forever.

After a while, you pull away and turn to him, gesturing in his direction. “Sienna, this is Hyunjin. He’s my photographer.”

Sienna’s sharp eyes land on him, scanning him up and down in an instant. Then, her lips curve into a playful smile as she offers her hand. “So you’re the one behind the camera. Nice to meet you, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin quickly shakes her hand, mumbling a polite, “Nice to meet you too.”

Sienna hums in approval before glancing back at you. “Damn, girl. You didn’t tell me he was this cute.”

His brain short-circuiting at the unexpected comment. You only laugh, playfully nudging Sienna. “Behave.”

Sienna grins, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction. “I'll try my best.” She steps aside, gesturing for both of you to come in. “Come on in, you two.”

Sienna's apartment is cozy but well-kept, with soft lighting and a few decorative touches that make it feel warm and inviting. A large mirror leans against the wall, fairy lights strung along the edges, and a few framed prints hang above the couch.

“I already have the tub ready for the shoot,” Sienna announces as she closes the door behind her. She gestures toward the bathroom, where Hyunjin catches a glimpse of a clawfoot tub surrounded by neatly arranged candles and bottles of oils.

“Let's get ready in the bedroom,” she tells you.

You nod, grabbing your bag. “I’ll be quick.”

As you disappear into the room, Hyunjin sets to work, preparing his camera and checking the lighting. He adjusts his settings, making sure everything is in place before the shoot starts.

With the bedroom door left slightly ajar, he can hear the low murmur of your voice as you talk with Sienna. He tries not to listen, but certain words slip through the cracks, making his hands pause mid-adjustment.

“So what’s the deal with your photographer?” Sienna asks, her voice carrying an amused lilt.

You let out a chuckle. “What do you mean?”

“He’s cute,” Sienna says bluntly. “And he’s got this whole quiet, brooding artist vibe going on. Is he just your photographer, or is there something else?”

Hyunjin swallows, he slows his movement as if it would heighten his hearing.

“He’s just my neighbor,” you say with an easy laugh. “And he’s helping me out with my content, that’s all.”

Sienna hums. “Shame. I was about to say—if he ever wants to make a Lustre account, I’d be more than happy to collab with him.”

You groan, the sound laced with amusement. “No way. Hyunjin’s a talented painter. He’s better than doing this.”

There’s a beat of silence before Sienna snickers. “You say that like what we do isn’t art.”

You sigh at that and then say, “You know what I mean.”

Hyunjin doesn’t hear the rest of the conversation because he’s too busy replaying your words in his head. He’s better than doing this. Instead of dwelling on it, he shakes his head, exhaling sharply as he forces himself to focus. The shoot is about to start. That’s what he should be thinking about. Nothing else.

-

The concept for today’s shoot is simple: “Bath Time.” A self-care routine, captured in soft, intimate shots. It’s supposed to feel natural, effortless—just two people unwinding, enjoying the warmth of a bubble bath, lathering each other’s skin with fragrant oils. At least, that’s how you described it when you briefed him on the plan earlier.

Hyunjin focuses on setting up the lighting, trying not to overthink things as he waits for you and Sienna to finish getting ready. The bathroom is already staged—plush towels folded neatly on the counter, candles flickering along the edges of the tub, a bottle of wine set on the ledge. The air is thick with the scent of vanilla and lavender, mixing with the rising steam from the bath.

Then, the bathroom door creaks open, and Hyunjin looks up to see you and Sienna stepping inside, both wrapped in matching white silk robes, hair pinned up. You’re barefoot, your feet padding softly against the tile as you move. Sienna flashes him a knowing smirk as she catches his gaze lingering a second too long, but she doesn’t say anything.

You turn to him, smiling. “Ready?”

He nods, forcing himself to focus. “Yeah. We can start with the self-care shots.”

The two of you fall into an easy rhythm—Sienna standing in front of the mirror, pretending to apply a facemask while you sit on the edge of the tub, running lotion over your legs. The silk robe slips from your shoulder slightly, exposing a hint of skin, and Hyunjin quickly adjusts the focus, his pulse kicking up for no reason. Next, you sit together on the bathroom counter, laughing as you brush through each other’s hair, pretending to apply skincare. The energy between you and Sienna is effortless, playful—he can see why your subscribers love you. And then—

The two of you untie the belts of your silk robes, letting the delicate fabric slide off your shoulders before slipping into the bath. The water is milky, filled with a luxurious bath soak that clouds the surface, but it does little to hide the curves of your bodies beneath. He quickly lifts the camera to his face, as if that will somehow shield him from the sight.

Sienna catches his reaction immediately. “Aw, look at him,” she teases, resting her chin on her palm as she leans against the edge of the tub. “Didn’t think you'd still get shy about this.”

Hyunjin clears his throat, focusing on adjusting the settings on the camera instead of looking directly at her. “I’m not—”

“She’s right, though,” you chime in, laughing softly. “You’re blushing.”

He is—he can feel the heat creeping up his neck—but he refuses to acknowledge it. “I’m just adjusting the exposure.”

Sienna giggles, nudging you playfully. “God, he's adorable.”

Before she can keep going, you step in, your voice light but teasing. “Hey, don’t scare the new guy.” You flash him a reassuring smile. “He’s just focused.”

Sienna sighs dramatically, sinking further into the bubbles. “Fine, fine. I’ll be nice.”

Hyunjin exhales slowly, shoulders easing just a little. He adjusts the camera in his grip and lifts it again. His finger pressing in on the shutter button almost non-stop, not wanting to miss a single moment. He eventually falls into a steady rhythm, his initial nerves fading as he focuses on his work. The camera becomes his shield, his lifeline, keeping him grounded as he captures the soft, intimate moments between you and Sienna.

The two of you laugh over the rim of your wine glasses, giggling as you clink them together. Music hums in the background, low and sultry, blending seamlessly with the warmth of the room. Everything feels natural—fluid—as if he’s just a silent observer in a private moment between friends. Then, without warning, Sienna leans in.

Hyunjin freezes behind the camera as her lips brush against yours, gentle at first before deepening into something more. You don’t hesitate. You tilt your head, responding to her touch with just as much ease, your fingers slipping into her curls as she presses closer.

The shift in the atmosphere is instant—what was playful and lighthearted now feels charged, the air between you and Sienna crackling with an intimacy that Hyunjin has no choice but to witness. He swallows hard, forcing himself to focus. His job is to capture the moment, to frame it just right, but his hands feel unsteady.

Sienna hums against your lips, her hand trailing along your shoulder before resting at your jaw. “Mmm,” she purrs, breaking the kiss just enough to glance at Hyunjin from the corner of her eye. “How’s our photographer doing?”

His throat suddenly gets dry. His entire body is warm. “I—uh—”

You turn your head slightly, your lips still parted from the kiss. There’s a knowing glint in your eyes as you look at him. “Are we good, Hyunjin?”

He swears you’re teasing him. He clears his throat and lifts the camera. “Just—just keep going.”

You and Sienna move together effortlessly, bodies half-submerged in the foamy water, steam curling in the air around you. Sienna’s hands roam freely—along your arms, down your sides, over the swell of your hips—while your lips stay locked in slow, languid kisses.

The camera captures everything—the way your bare shoulders glisten under the dim bathroom light, the way your fingers tangle in Sienna’s curls, tugging her closer, the way she sighs against your lips before trailing her mouth down to your neck. Sienna’s hand slides up your back, her nails grazing your skin as she presses you closer. The water ripples around you both, little waves lapping against the sides of the tub. She murmurs something against your lips that Hyunjin can’t hear, but whatever it is makes you chuckle softly before kissing her again.

The moment you and Sienna break apart, laughter fills the steamy bathroom, light and carefree. Sienna leans her forehead against yours, grinning. "That was fun," she muses, and you nod, wiping stray bubbles off your shoulder.

"Hyunjin," you call, looking over at him. "How are the pictures?"

He jolts slightly, tearing his eyes away from the viewfinder. His face is flushed—not just from the heat in the room. He quickly checks the camera, scrolling through the shots. The photos are stunning. Ethereal, even. The way the steam softened the edges, how the dim lighting caught the glow of your skin, the way you and Sienna looked lost in the moment—it was captivating.

"Uh, they look great," he manages to say, voice tight. He turns the camera so you and Sienna can take a look.

You scoot closer, wet skin brushing against his arm as you lean in, and Hyunjin nearly forgets how to breathe. Sienna hums in approval, tilting her head. "Damn, you really are good at this, Hyunjin," she says, shooting him a playful wink.

Then, without hesitation, you stand up in the tub, letting the water cascade down your body as you step out. He's seen you naked before but he is not used to it yet. Heck! He doesn't even know if he will ever be.

You grab a towel, patting yourself dry as you glance at him. "Are we good to continue?"

Hyunjin clears his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze and not let his eyes wander lower. "Yeah. I'm ready when you are."

Sienna chuckles knowingly as she steps out after you, slipping her hand into her curls to fluff it. "Then let's move on to the shower scene."

Hyunjin stands behind the camera, adjusting the settings as the warm glow of the bathroom light mixes with the soft haze of steam. He watches through the lens as you and Sienna step under the shower, water streaming down your bodies, making your skin glisten. Click.

His fingers move instinctively, snapping pictures as you run your hands over your arms, then down your stomach, your expression serene, lost in the moment. Sienna does the same beside you, tilting her head back as water soaks through her curls. It’s intimate—not just in a sensual way, but in how natural the two of you look together, comfortable in your skin, unfazed by the camera’s presence, by his presence.

Hyunjin is here for the artistic aspect of it, but he can’t stop his eyes from lingering. The way the water slides down the curve of your spine, the way you absentmindedly push wet strands of hair away from your face, the way your hands glide from below to cup your breasts—his chest feels tight, heat creeping up his neck. Then, Sienna leans toward you, whispering something into your ear as she puts her hands on you, touching you as you stand still for her, allowing her to explore your body as she pleases. You shift on your feet, standing facing the camera with your back pressed against Sienna’s chest, her hands wandering around as you drop your head to the side, letting her capturing your lips in a kiss again.

It feels unreal, like something out of a dream—no, like something out of his wildest fantasies. If someone had told him a month ago that he’d be here, witnessing this up close, filming something so intimate, he would’ve laughed in disbelief. But here he is. His fingers twitch on the shutter, snapping stills even as his thoughts spiral. He’s supposed to be professional. He’s supposed to focus on angles, lighting, making sure the shots turn out perfect. But his mind is a blur, his senses overwhelmed. The warmth of the room, the scent of lavender and wine, the quiet, breathy sounds filling the space—it's all too much.

-

It's not hard to notice Hyunjin struggling to keep calm as he stands behind the camera, trying his best to look professional, to act unaffected. But you’re not blind. You see the way his fingers tremble slightly as he adjusts the settings, the way he clears his throat more times than necessary. It’s cute.

You and Hyunjin have done a handful of shoots together by now. He’s seen you in lingerie, in silk robes slipping off your shoulders, in nothing but soft lighting and well-placed sheets. And yet, for some reason, this particular shoot—this one with Sienna—has him struggling to keep his cool.

Maybe it’s the way the water streams down your skin, catching the glow of the bathroom lights. Maybe it’s the way Sienna whispers something into your ear, making you burst into laughter, your body leaning into hers. Or maybe it’s the fact that he has to stand there, camera in hand, watching the two of you touch, tease, and laugh like he isn’t even there.

You catch glimpses of his expression in the mirror’s reflection—the way his jaw clenches, the way his grip tightens around the camera. It’s not discomfort—not at all. He’s just… flustered. And you find it ridiculously endearing.

When the shoot wraps up, when you step out of the shower and wrap a towel around yourself, you pass by him with a smirk. "You okay there?"

He blinks, looking up from the camera screen like you’ve just caught him in something. "Huh? Yeah—yeah, I’m fine."

You chuckle, tilting your head. "You sure? You seem a little… distracted."

He scoffs, shaking his head as he turns away. "Nah, I'm good," he mumbles, but you don’t miss the way his cheeks redden and that just makes it all the more amusing.

You step out of the bedroom, dressed in fresh clothes, your damp hair falling over your shoulders as you towel-dry the ends. The soft hum of conversation from the living room draws your attention, and as you walk in, you find Sienna and Hyunjin sitting close together on the sofa, the camera in Hyunjin’s hands as they scroll through the photos.

Sienna glances up at you with a smile. “Finally done?”

You nod, tossing the towel onto the back of a chair.

“I ordered dinner for us,” she says, standing up and stretching. “I’m gonna change real quick.” She pats Hyunjin’s shoulder as she walks past him. “You two, don’t have fun without me.”

“No promises,” you chuckle as you settle onto the sofa beside him, your shoulder lightly brushing against his. “Now, can I see?”

Hyunjin hands you the camera, and the two of you go through the shots together. The images are stunning—Sienna’s golden skin glows under the bathroom lights, the steam giving the photos an ethereal, dreamlike quality. The shots of you and her in the tub, glasses of wine in hand, look effortlessly natural, like a private moment caught on camera. The shower pictures are just as striking, water dripping down your skin, the intimacy of the moment captured in every frame.

“You two look really good together,” Hyunjin comments, his tone thoughtful. “The chemistry is there. It doesn’t feel forced at all.”

You smile at that, glancing at him. “That’s why I only ever collab with Sienna.”

Hyunjin raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

“She’s the only one I trust enough to do this with. I know she respects my boundaries, and we just… click.” You gesture at the photos. “You can tell, right?”

He hums in agreement, scrolling to another picture. “Yeah. It’s different from what I expected.”

“What did you expect?” you tease.

Hyunjin hesitates, then shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I thought it would feel more like… acting? But this just looks real.”

You smile at that, feeling oddly pleased by his words. “That’s the goal.”

Hyunjin turns to look at you, curiosity in his gaze. “Have you ever thought about collaborating with someone other than Sienna?”

You hesitate for a moment before exhaling. “Actually, my subscribers have been asking for it. They want to see me do a collab with a male creator.”

He watches you carefully. “And?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, I'm just... I haven’t found a guy I trust enough to do this with.”

There’s a beat of silence. Hyunjin doesn’t say anything, but you can tell he’s thinking. You let the words hang between you for a moment before looking back at the camera screen, scrolling through the photos again.

All of a sudden, you feel like teasing him. “How about you? Wanna do a collab with me?”

You swear you can see his entire brain short-circuit in real-time—the way his eyes widen, his fingers stiffen around the camera, and his jaw goes slack for a second before he quickly snaps it shut.

“M-Me?” he stammers, blinking rapidly as if he misheard you. “Like—like on Lustre?”

You bite your lip, holding back a laugh. “Yeah. You’d be perfect, don’t you think?”

Hyunjin’s mouth opens then closes, clearly struggling for words. His entire face flushes, his grip tightening around the camera like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. He looks so comically panicked that you finally burst out laughing.

“Oh, my god. I wasn’t being serious,” you say, giving his arm a playful nudge. “You should’ve seen your face.”

He exhales sharply, visibly deflating. He shakes his head in disbelief or relief, you can’t tell.

You grin. “Hey, at least now I know your answer.”

He huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Like that wasn’t already obvious?”

You lean back against the couch, still amused. “I don’t know. You did hesitate.”

The collaboration had gone well—Sienna was a natural, and Hyunjin had gotten into the flow of things much more easily than before. You glance at him as you pull into your usual parking spot. He looks deep in thought, staring out the window with his lips pressed together.

Once inside, you unlock the door, nudging it open as Hyunjin follows behind, carrying the camera bag for you and your equipment. He sets everything down neatly by the entryway before stretching his arms with a quiet sigh.

“I like doing this,” he says suddenly.

You pause as you take your shoes off, looking at him. “Doing what?”

He meets your gaze, a small, almost sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “Creating content with you.”

Your brows lift slightly, surprised by his honesty. He shifts his weight, a hand raking his dark hair to the back before elaborating.

“I mean… it’s not much different from painting,” he continues. “They’re both about composition, about telling a story with light and form. And—I don’t know, I just like it. I like creating art with you.”

Something warm flickers in your chest. The way he says it, so genuine and thoughtful, catches you off guard. You smile, touched by his words. “That’s really sweet, Hyunjin.”

He smiles until his eyes form two crescents and he holds your gaze as you add, “Thank you. For everything. I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate you.”

For a moment, the air between you softens. The two of you just stand there, exchanging a quiet, endearing glance that lingers a little longer than usual. There’s something unspoken in it—something neither of you can't quite name it.

Then, Hyunjin clears his throat, shifting back slightly. “I should go.”

You nod, not pushing him to stay. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

He offers you a small smile before stepping toward the door. “Goodnight.”

And with that, he slips out, leaving you standing in your doorway, still feeling the warmth of his words long after he’s gone.

-

The following weeks pass in a blur of routine and creativity. Hyunjin finds himself settling into a rhythm he hasn’t had in a long time—one where he isn’t constantly worrying about rent, skipping meals, or stressing over how to make ends meet. For the first time in a while, he can breathe.

Sitting at his newly assembled desk, he leans back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead as he glances around his apartment. It still isn’t much—small, a little worn-down—but it feels different now. He’s not drowning in financial stress, and he can actually focus. On his studies. On his paintings.

He turns toward the easel in the corner, where a half-finished painting waits for him. His fingers itch to pick up the brush again so he does, he puts on a new canvas and starts painting. The brush glides over the canvas in smooth, deliberate strokes, the image slowly coming to life under Hyunjin’s fingertips. He doesn’t think too much about what he’s painting at first—he’s simply letting his hands move, letting the colors blend and take form as he loses himself in the rhythm of creation.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt this way. Inspired. At peace. But then, as he leans back to examine his work, realization settles in his chest. He’s painting you. Your eyes, your smile, the way light catches on your skin. The curve of your shoulders, the tilt of your head—everything is unmistakably you.

Hyunjin exhales, dragging a hand through his hair. He should stop. Or at least change something, make it less obvious. But instead, he picks up his brush again and keeps going, adding depth, warmth. There’s something about this—about you—that compels him forward.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, lost in his own world, before a sudden knock on the door jolts him out of his focus. Frowning, he sets his brush down and stands, stretching out the stiffness in his back before moving toward the door.

The moment he opens it, he barely has time to react before you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck in an excited hug. “We did it!” you exclaim, grinning against his shoulder.

He stiffens for half a second before his body instinctively reacts, catching you as he stumbles back a step. He can feel the way you’re practically buzzing with excitement, your warmth seeping into him. “We… did what?” he asks, still processing.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes, your own sparkling. “A hundred thousand subscribers. We hit the goal.”

Hyunjin's lips part in surprise. “Wait… seriously?”

You nod eagerly with a big grin on plastered your face. “I just checked! It finally happened.”

For a moment, Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say. He knew this was important to you, knew how much work you put into it. And now, seeing the joy on your face, the way you’re looking at him with pure excitement—it’s contagious. A slow, genuine smile tugs at his lips. “That’s amazing.”

“I know!” You laugh, bouncing slightly on your feet. “And I wanted to celebrate with you first since you’ve been such a huge part of it.”

His heart does something strange in his chest. He swallows, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you still are. How natural it feels to have you in his arms. Clearing his throat, he gently steps back, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well… congratulations.”

You beam at him. “Thanks.” Then your eyes flicker past him into his apartment. “Were you painting?”

Hyunjin stiffens, his gaze darting toward the easel. He had completely forgotten about it. And before he can stop you, you step past him, eyes landing on the canvas.

You tilt your head as you take in the painting, your eyes tracing over the delicate brushstrokes and warm hues. “I didn’t realize you were in the middle of something,” you say, turning back to Hyunjin with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for barging in like that.”

He quickly shakes his head, stepping beside you and subtly angling himself to block the view of the canvas. “It’s fine,” he says, maybe a little too quickly. He reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was just… messing around. It’s nothing serious.”

You nod, not thinking much of it, and take a step back. “Well, do you have any plans tonight?”

His mind still half-stuck on the painting and he scrambles to answer such a simple question. “Uh… no?”

“Great.” You grin, crossing your arms. “Go get changed and get ready. We're going out tonight.”

He stares at you for a beat. “Wait—what?”

“You heard me,” you say, nudging his arm. “We just hit a hundred thousand subscribers. We have to celebrate.”

Hyunjin hesitates. He wasn’t expecting this. A quiet night in, sure. Maybe more painting. But going out with you? That was… different. He eyes you, noting the playful determination in your expression. And even though part of him wants to protest, to say he’s fine staying in, another part—the part that’s always drawn to you, always curious—doesn’t want to say no.

With a sigh, he relents. “Give me a few minutes.”

You grin in victory and head for the door. “I’ll be waiting by the stairs.”

As Hyunjin grabs a clean shirt from his closet, his gaze flickers back to the easel. The painting sits there, unfinished and he steps closer, taking in the details he hadn’t even realized he’d captured. The curve of your lips, the way your hair falls over your shoulders, the light in your eyes. It’s beautiful in its own way, but as he stares at it, a thought lingers in his mind. Will it ever be as beautiful as the real you?

He exhales, shaking his head with a small, almost amused smile. Probably not. No painting—no matter how perfect—could ever capture the way you feel in the moment. The way your voice carries when you’re excited, the warmth of your smile, the way you look at him when you’re teasing or when you’re sincere. With one last look at the unfinished piece, Hyunjin grabs his jacket and heads for the door. Whatever answer he’s looking for, he won’t find it on the canvas. But maybe, just maybe, he’ll find it out there—with you.

-

For the first time, you and Hyunjin are going out together—not for work, not for a shoot, but just to hang out. Just you and him, no cameras, no content to create. It shouldn’t feel like a big deal, but as you drive through the city streets, you can’t shake the little thrill of excitement bubbling inside you. You glance at Hyunjin in the passenger seat. He looks relaxed, gazing out the window, his fingers tapping lightly against his knee to the beat of the song playing on the radio. He doesn’t know where you’re taking him yet, but he didn’t argue when you told him to get dressed and come along.

“We’re here,” you announce as you pull into the parking lot.

Hyunjin leans forward slightly, scanning the front of an art supply store. His brows lift in recognition. “Huh?”

“You always refuse whenever I try to give you money,” you say, turning off the engine. “So I figured I’d do it this way instead.”

He gives you a look—part amused, part hesitant. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”

“I know I don’t have to,” you reply, echoing your earlier words. “I want to.”

Hyunjin sighs, shaking his head with a small, reluctant smile.

“Please, let me do this for you.” you sweetly plead while unbuckling your seatbelt.

Eventually, he gives in, and the two of you step inside. The scent of paper, paint, and wood greets you, and for a moment, you simply take it in. It’s not a place you’d usually find yourself in, but you can tell it’s familiar to Hyunjin—comfortable.

“Alright,” you say, nudging him forward. “Pick whatever you need.”

Hyunjin hesitates but then starts moving, leading you through the aisles. You watch as his fingers trail along sketchbooks, as he lifts brushes and tests the bristles between his fingertips. He explains things as he goes, telling you about the differences between paint types, the importance of good-quality paper, why some brushes work better for details while others are for broad strokes.

You nod along, absorbing the information, even though you’ll probably forget most of it later. Still, it’s nice—seeing him in his element like this, watching his passion come through in the way he talks. At one point, you hold up a tiny watercolor palette. “This is cute. Do you use watercolors?”

“I do, sometimes,” Hyunjin says.

“You should get this then.” Before he can protest, you toss it into the growing basket in your arms.

By the time you both make it to the checkout counter, you’ve learned more about art supplies than you ever thought you would. More importantly, you’ve had fun. The weight of work, money, and responsibilities feels lighter tonight, replaced by something simpler—something closer to just being.

As the cashier rings up the items, Hyunjin turns to you, his eyes warm with gratitude. “Thank you.”

You grin, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. “Told you, it’s a celebration. Now, it's my turn.”

He carries the shopping bag in one hand as he turns to look at you. "Your turn for what?"

Instead of answering, you link your arm with his and start leading him down the sidewalk, weaving through the small cluster of stores nearby. He stumbles a little at first but quickly falls into step with you. It doesn't take long for you to find what you're looking for—a boutique with large glass windows displaying mannequins dressed in sleek, trendy outfits. The second you step inside, Hyunjin hesitates.

"Wait," he says, realizing where you've brought him. "You’re shopping for clothes?"

"Obviously," you say, already skimming through a rack of dresses. "You think I’d just let you have all the fun tonight?"

Hyunjin exhales, brushing his hair to the back only to send more strands of hair falling over his face. "I should've known."

You steer him to the bench sofa and push him down to make him sit. You shoot him a teasing look as you say, "Be a good boy and wait here."

He sighs dramatically but doesn’t protest as you disappear behind the changing room curtain with an armful of outfits.

It starts off easy enough—you try on a casual dress first, stepping out and doing a little twirl in front of the mirror. He glances up from his phone, his expression neutral at first, but when you ask, "What do you think?" he shifts awkwardly in his seat.

"Uh, yeah. Looks nice," he says quickly.

You squint at him. "Nice?"

"It's...pretty?"

"You’re not very convincing, Hyunjin."

He groans, leaning back against the cushioned bench. "What do you want me to say?"

"An honest opinion," you reply, disappearing back into the fitting room.

The next outfit is a little bolder—a sleek, figure-hugging dress with a low neckline. The moment you step out, Hyunjin stiffens, his eyes darting everywhere except at you.

"So?" you press, tilting your head.

He swallows hard. "I, uh—" He gestures vaguely. "It’s...a dress?"

You smirk, stepping closer. "A dress, huh?"

"Yeah," he nods, still refusing to meet your gaze. "It sure is a—definitely a dress."

You laugh. "Hyunjin, you're so bad at this."

"I told you this was a bad idea," he grumbles.

"Oh, come on," you tease, placing a hand on your hip. "You’re around me naked all the time during shoots. What’s so different about this?"

"That’s work," he says quickly. "This is...different."

You raise an eyebrow. "How is it different?"

Hyunjin suddenly gets quiet, struggling to come up with an answer. You grin, satisfied with his reaction. "Alright, alright, I won't torture you anymore." You turn back toward the fitting room. "But I am buying this one."

As you disappear behind the curtain, you hear Hyunjin exhale loudly, muttering something under his breath. You can’t quite catch the words, but judging by the way he’s been acting all night, you have a pretty good idea. And the thought alone makes you smile.

-

Hyunjin never really enjoyed shopping. The idea of going from store to store, carrying bags, and making endless choices always seemed exhausting to him.

This time felt different though. Maybe it was because you were there, effortlessly making everything fun. From the way you pulled him around the art supply store, listening intently as he explained the difference between oil and acrylic paints, to how you tortured him in the clothing store with your relentless outfit changes—Hyunjin found himself laughing more than he had in a long time. Now, with both of you standing by your car, loading shopping bags into the trunk, he realizes something else. He’s actually enjoying himself.

"Alright!" You clap your hands, shutting the trunk. "Dinner next!"

The drive isn’t long, but when Hyunjin sees the restaurant you’re pulling into, he does a double take. The place looks fancy. Dim lighting, sleek architecture, waiters in neatly pressed suits—it’s nothing like the casual takeout spots he’s used to.

"Uh… are you sure? Maybe we can go somewhere else."

You quirk a brow at him. "Why?"

"It just looks kinda… expensive?" he says hesitantly, shifting in his seat.

You narrow your eyes at him as you unbuckle your seatbelt. "What, you think I can’t afford it?"

Hyunjin opens his mouth, then shuts it when he sees the teasing glint in your eyes. Before he can protest further, you’re already out of the car, striding confidently toward the entrance.

The moment you step inside, a waiter greets you with a polite smile and guides you both to a vacant table. Hyunjin hesitates for a second before sitting down across from you, still looking slightly uneasy.

"You seriously didn’t have to do this," he mutters, scanning the pristine table setting, the expensive-looking wine glasses, the soft glow of the chandelier above.

"But I wanted to," you say while flipping through the menu.

Hyunjin meets your gaze, and something about the way you say it makes his chest feel warm. With a small sigh, he relaxes into his seat. "Fine. But if the menu doesn’t have prices on it, I’m walking out."

You burst into laughter, and despite himself, Hyunjin finds a smile creeping onto his lips. However, in the next moment, he notices the shift in your expression.

One moment, you’re smirking at him, clearly enjoying how flustered he is—the next, your face drops, your body going rigid as your eyes fixate on something behind him.

"Hey," he says, frowning slightly. "What’s wrong?"

You don’t answer. Instead, you abruptly stand up, grabbing your bag and reaching for his wrist.

"We can't be here. Come on," you say under your breath, already pulling him with you.

Hyunjin stumbles to his feet, utterly confused. "Wait—what? Where are we—?"

"Just—let’s go," you cut him off, voice tense.

He barely has time to register what’s happening before you’re weaving through the tables, dragging him toward the exit with hurried steps. The fun, lighthearted atmosphere from earlier vanishes in an instant, replaced by something tight and uneasy.

As soon as you push through the restaurant doors, stepping out into the cool night air, Hyunjin pulls back slightly, forcing you to slow down. "Okay, seriously," he says, catching his breath. "What was that? Did you see someone in there?"

Your lips press together, and for the first time tonight, you look genuinely shaken.

-

The city lights blur past in streaks of yellow and red, the hum of the car filling the quiet between you. Hyunjin steadily grips the steering wheel with one hand, eyes flickering toward you as you lean back in the passenger’s seat, staring out the window. He hadn’t expected you to hand him the car keys so easily when he offered to drive, but you looked like you needed a break. And for a while, the silence was comfortable. But then, you sigh softly, and he glances at you again.

"I saw my friend and her fiancé at the restaurant," you finally say, your voice quiet.

Hyunjin doesn’t respond right away, waiting for you to continue. When you don’t, he simply hums in acknowledgment, keeping his focus on the road.

You shift slightly, resting your arm against the door. "They invited me to their engagement party last month. I went, but…" You hesitate, fingers idly tracing patterns against your thigh. "One of her fiancé’s friends recognized me. From Lustre."

Hyunjin doesn’t miss the way your voice drops slightly at the end, as if you’re bracing yourself for his reaction. He exhales through his nose, keeping his tone neutral. "What happened?"

You let out a dry laugh. "Nothing dramatic. He didn’t make a scene or anything. Just… started whispering to the people around him. A few of them started staring. Some were curious, others were obviously judging. It was awkward."

You exhale softly, turning your gaze back to the window. The city lights cast shifting shadows across your face, and he catches the way your fingers curl slightly against your lap, like you're holding something in. "So I decided to leave early. I didn’t want to ruin their night."

His jaw tenses, and he risks another glance at you. "You think you would’ve ruined it just by being there?"

You let out a short, humorless laugh. "I don’t know. But I could feel the shift in the air, the way people started whispering. I just didn’t want my friend to have to deal with that at her own party."

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. He knows that feeling all too well—being talked about like you’re not there, like you’re just an idea for people to judge instead of a person with real feelings. It makes something in his chest ache for you.

You sigh again, tilting your head back against the seat. "Maybe it’s better this way," you murmur. "For me to keep my distance from them."

He makes a turn before saying, "But she's your friend."

"She is," you admit, lips pressing together. "Bu I don’t want to put her in a position where she has to defend me all the time."

Hyunjin doesn’t like the sound of that. It feels unfair—like you’re punishing yourself for other people’s ignorance. But he doesn’t know how to say that without making it worse. So instead, he just nods slowly, fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. "If that’s what you think is best," he says carefully. "But… it still sucks."

You smile faintly at that, turning your head to look at him. "Yeah," you agree, voice softer now. "It does."

When the two of you arrive on your shared floor, you lead the way toward your apartment as Hyunjin follows closely behind, carrying the shopping bags in both hands. The air between you is quieter now—not uncomfortable, just… heavy with unspoken thoughts. You stop in front of your apartment door, rummaging through your bag to find the keys.

Hyunjin hesitates for a second before speaking. "Thanks for tonight," he says, his voice softer than usual. "I actually had fun."

That makes you smile, just a little, and you look up at him. "Even though I dragged you into shopping and took you to a fancy restaurant just to leave?"

Hyunjin chuckles at that. "Yeah, even then."

Your smile lingers, but he can still see it—the sadness beneath it. It’s there in your eyes, in the way your fingers fidget against the strap of one of the bags. You’re still thinking about what happened earlier.

He wants to say something, anything, to make it better. But he knows words can only do so much. So instead, he offers a small, easy grin. "And, you know, the dumplings were a nice save. So I’ll forgive you for the restaurant thing."

That earns him a soft laugh from you, and for now, it’s enough. He nods toward your door, now unlocked. "Get inside. Get some rest."

"You too," you reply with a soft smile.

And with that, you slip inside your apartment, leaving Hyunjin standing there for a moment, staring at your closed door, thinking about the way your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes tonight.

-

On Saturday, you and Hyunjin start the day early, loading your bags into the trunk of your car, preparing for the trip. There’s an excited energy buzzing around you, evident in the way you hum to yourself, swaying slightly as you double-check everything before shutting the trunk.

Hyunjin silently watches, amused. “You’re in a good mood,” he notes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

You flash him a grin. “Of course! A road trip, a new shoot, and a weekend away? What’s not to be excited about?”

He smiles as he slips into the passenger seat as you slide into the driver’s side. The moment you hit the road, you roll the windows down, letting the breeze sweep through the car. Music plays from the speakers, and without hesitation, you start singing along—light, carefree, completely in your element.

Hyunjin leans back, watching you as you tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the beat. The sunlight catches on your skin, making you glow, and your hair moves with the wind, effortless and natural. You look happy. He doesn't even think twice when he grabs the camera. His fingers move instinctively, snapping photos of you as you sing, laugh, and steal glances at the passing scenery.

You don’t notice at first, too caught up in the moment. But then you catch sight of him in your peripheral vision, and you smirk. “Are you taking pictures of me?”

He sets the camera down with a sheepish chuckle. “You just— You look nice,” he admits, “It’s… a good moment.”

Your smirk softens into something more genuine. You flip your hair as you crack another chuckle. “Well, I hope you got my good angles.”

With that, Hyunjin lifts the camera and aims it at you. “You don’t have a bad one.”

The drive up to the villa is peaceful, the road winding through trees and open fields until you finally pull up to the secluded property. The villa is bigger than you expected, modern yet cozy, with large windows that overlook a breathtaking view of rolling hills. The real highlight, though, is the swimming pool stretching across the back patio, glistening under the bright sun.

Hyunjin lets out a low whistle as he steps out of the car. “You really went all out for this one.”

You grin, stretching your arms above your head. “Only the best for my content.”

Hyunjin doesn’t wait for you instruction, he goes to the back of the car, grabbing both of your bags from the trunk. Together, you head inside, greeted by high ceilings, sleek furniture, and a warm, inviting atmosphere. You drop your stuff in the living room and immediately start exploring, making mental notes of the best spots to use for the shoot.

“The living room has great lighting,” Hyunjin points out, running his fingers along the edge of a marble counter. “But I think the bedroom could work too, if you’re going for something more intimate.”

You nod, considering it. “And the pool. We definitely have to use the pool.”

He nods in agreement while following you outside. The water sparkles under the sun, and the view beyond it looks straight out of a painting. It’s secluded enough that there’s no chance of interruptions.

You take a slow walk around the patio, already picturing the shots in your mind. “This might be one of my favorite locations yet.”

-

The afternoon sun is warm against your skin as you lie back on the lounge chair, sunglasses perched on your nose, enjoying the quiet. The villa’s backyard is peaceful, the only sounds coming from the occasional rustling of leaves and the soft scratching of Hyunjin’s pencil against paper. You peek over at him, watching as he’s hunched slightly forward, sketchbook in his lap, completely lost in whatever he’s drawing. His brows furrow in concentration, his lips slightly parted—he looks beautiful when he’s focused like this. Then, an idea pops into your head.

“Draw me,” you say, shifting to your side so you can face him.

He's looking up from his sketchbook with his brows knotted in question. “What?”

“Draw me. You’re always sketching something—why not me?” You say, putting one leg over another, striking a pose for him.

His gaze flickers over you briefly, and you don’t miss the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. You’re stretched out comfortably, bikini top and denim shorts leaving most of your skin exposed to the sun. The golden glow only accentuates the curves of your body, the way your skin looks smooth and soft under the light.

“Oh, come on,” you tease, tugging at the sleeve of his plaid shirt. “You’ve taken my photos so many times. What’s the difference?”

“Fine,” he mumbles, flipping to a fresh page. “But don’t move too much.”

You smile in victory and settle back into your chair, letting him work. You stay still for the most part, but you can’t help sneaking glances at him. His gaze lingers on you a little longer than usual, his pencil moving with careful precision.

There’s something captivating about the way he looks when he’s focused—his dark eyes following the curve of your body, his brows slightly furrowed in concentration. His lips are pursed, just barely, as if deep in thought, and the strands of hair escaping the loose ponytail framing his small face, moving slightly with the breeze. Hyunjin is beautiful like this—lost in his art, completely unaware of how effortlessly stunning he is.

You rest your chin on your hand, watching him quietly. You’ve seen him like this before, both behind the camera and in front of it, but there’s something different about this moment. Maybe it’s the way the sunlight catches the angles of his face, or how his fingers move so fluidly across the page, sketching lines with such careful precision. Whatever it is, you find yourself admiring him—not just his talent, but him. Also, you can't help but wonder what he sees when he looks at you—not just as a subject, but as a person. And if, maybe, the way he’s drawing you now is different from how he sees you through his camera lens.

Just as you’re about to say something, the sound of the front door swinging open echoes through the villa.

“Hellooo! I’m here!” Sienna’s voice rings out, followed by the sound of her sandals tapping against the floor as she makes her way outside.

Hyunjin startles slightly, his pencil slipping on the page, while you fumble to sit up on the lounge chair, pulled out of whatever quiet moment had settled between you two.

“There you guys are!” Sienna grins as she steps onto the patio, sunglasses perched on top of her curly hair. She’s dressed casually in a crop top and flowy pants, looking effortlessly radiant as always. She tosses her bag onto a nearby chair before placing her hands on her hips. “I figured I’d find you lounging.”

You laugh, stretching your arms over your head. “It’s a vacation too, you know.”

Sienna’s gaze flicks to Hyunjin, then to his sketchbook. “Ooooh, what are you drawing?”

Hyunjin immediately closes his sketchbook. “Nothing.”

Sienna smirks. “Uh-huh, sure. Was he drawing you?” She directs the question at you, wiggling her brows.

You shrug playfully. “I asked him to.”

Sienna chuckles as she flops onto the sunbed next to you and sighs as she takes in the view, then she turns to you with an excited grin. “So! We ready to plan the shoot? I was thinking of something really sexy by the pool.”

You exchange a glance with Hyunjin, who exhales, already preparing himself for whatever Sienna has in mind.

-

After the pool shot, the three of you continue to lounge comfortably in the living room, the remains of dinner pushed aside as Sienna pours more wine into everyone’s glasses. The atmosphere is light, filled with laughter and the occasional teasing remark. Hyunjin leans back against the couch, holding his glass but not drinking much, just listening as you and Sienna exchange stories.

“So,” Sienna pauses to swallow her wine before continuing, “have you thought more about that male collab thing?”

You set your glass down, considering your words. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I want to do it… but I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

Sienna hums, tilting her head. “I get it. But when you are, I can introduce you to a couple of guys I’ve worked with before. They’re professional, easy to work with.” She winks. “And hot.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “That’s not really the problem.”

“Then what is?” she presses.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It’s just… different. I’ve only ever done this with you because I trust you. Bringing a guy into it—it changes the whole dynamic.”

Sienna nods in understanding. “That’s fair. But if you ever want to test the waters, I can vouch for a few good ones.”

You smile at her offer but don’t commit to anything. “Maybe one day.”

Then, Sienna reaches into her bag and pulls out a small bottle. She twists the cap off, shaking out three pills before handing one to each of you.

“Here,” she says, placing one in Hyunjin’s palm and one in yours.

He looks at it warily. “What is it?”

“Just something to help you relax,” Sienna assures, tossing hers back and washing it down with a sip of wine. “Nothing dangerous. I promise.”

Hyunjin hesitates, turning to you to seek assurance. His fingers hover over the pill, unsure.

You nod, offering a small smile. “It’s safe. It just takes the edge off a little.”

After a moment, he sighs and finally places the pill on his tongue, swallowing it with a sip of wine. He can't taste anything but the sweet and a hint of sourness of the red wine.

Sienna grins, refilling everyone’s glasses before initiating a toast. “To a successful shoot,” she says, raising her glass.

You and Hyunjin clink glasses with hers before drinking. The taste of the wine lingers on your tongue, smooth and rich, as warmth slowly settles in your body.

Sienna leans into you, draping herself lazily against your shoulder. “Mmm, I think this one is going to be fun.”

You chuckle, tilting your head back against the couch. “It always is.”

Hyunjin watches the two of you, still holding his glass, his fingers tapping lightly against the rim. He doesn’t say much, but there’s something in his gaze—curiosity, anticipation, and maybe, just maybe, the slightest bit of nervous excitement.

-

The camera feels heavier in Hyunjin’s hands as he adjusts the focus, framing you and Sienna in the soft glow of the bedroom lights. Both of you are draped in delicate silk slip dresses, the fabric clinging to your curves as you lounge on the bed, bodies close, limbs tangled around each other. He swallows hard, trying to keep his hands steady as he clicks the shutter. The way the light catches on the smoothness of your skin, the way your fingers trace over each other’s arms—it’s mesmerizing. He tells himself to focus on the composition, the artistry, but there’s a lingering tension in his chest that he can’t quite shake.

As the shoot progresses, the silk straps start slipping off shoulders, the fabric sliding down in slow, teasing motions. Sienna moves first, letting the dress pool around her waist as she turns to you, running her fingers along your bare arm. You follow suit, the fabric gliding down, exposing more with each captured frame.

Hyunjin keeps taking pictures, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. The way you move together, the way your bodies curve and fit—it’s intimate, captivating, like something out of a dream. He fights the urge to pinch his arm to assure himself that it's real, it's happening right in front of him. Then, you turn your head at him, smiling ever softly as you say, “You can start recording now.”

He swallows before nodding, switching the mode, readjusting the settings and when he lifts his head from the camera, his breath catches. You and Sienna are already tangled together on the bed, lips pressed together, hands wandering over each other’s bodies. The silk sheets shift beneath you as your fingers slide up Sienna’s waist, tracing the curve of her spine. She tilts her head, deepening the kiss, and the soft sighs and low giggles between you send a warmth crawling up Hyunjin’s neck. He forces himself to move, keeping his hand steady once he presses the record button, making sure everything is in frame and exposing just enough to engage with the audience, because what he's making is art, not some cheap porn videos.

The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts flickering shadows on your skin, highlighting every movement as Sienna’s fingers disappear into your hair, tugging you even closer. He keeps his eyes on the viewfinder, focusing on the way your lips move against Sienna’s, your tongues tangling in a slow, teasing rhythm. The soft sounds of your kisses fill the dimly lit room, and when Sienna bites at your lower lip, drawing out a breathy giggle from you, his hand loosens for a second before he grips the camera tighter.

The room feels warmer than before, the heat crawling up his skin as he watches Sienna trail kisses down your neck, her lips grazing your collarbone before venturing lower. You lean back, propping both hands against the mattress, exhaling softly as you allow her more space as she presses open-mouthed kisses along your chest. The silk of your dress slips further, pooling at your waist, and Sienna takes her time, her lips and tongue exploring your skin. Hyunjin swallows hard as Sienna teasingly licks your nipple before taking the ample flesh into her mouth. Your body jolts in surprise, your fingers curl into the sheets as Sienna’s mouth works over your other nipple.

A bead of sweat rolls down his temple, and he exhales through his nose, his body running too warm, his mind feeling hazy. Maybe it’s the heat of the room. Maybe it’s the pill. With one hand, he reaches for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. The white tank clings to his lean frame, but the slight relief of cool air against his skin helps—at least a little. He takes a breath, refocusing on the camera, on the way Sienna’s hands slide lower, fingers teasing along your thighs. Then you gasp, a quiet yet sharp kind as Sienna’s hand touches you there, right between the legs. Her fingers tracing slow, circular motions on your clit.

Hyunjin keeps recording, watching through the lens as your body responds to Sienna’s touch. You open your legs wider in response, allowing him to see what Sienna is doing to your glistening cunt. His heart is pounding, his mouth suddenly dry, but he doesn’t look away. He doesn’t think he could, even if he wanted to.

The air in the room is thick, a mixture of wine, perfume, and something else—something intoxicating. His white tank clings to him uncomfortably, heat creeping up his neck, and before he realizes it, he tugs it off, letting it drop to the floor beside him. The cool air against his skin does little to steady him.

You arch against Sienna’s touch, your lips parting with a breathless sound, and Hyunjin’s fingers twitch against the camera. He can’t remember the last time he felt this kind of tension coil inside him, tightening with each second that passes.

For a moment, his gaze drifts away from the camera screen, settling on you—not as a subject, not as a model, but as you. The way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part with unspoken pleasure, the way your eyes lingering on him as if you want him to see you come undone. Suddenly, Hyunjin wonders if he’s crossed a line he can’t step back from when he watches, unable to look away, as you shudder beneath Sienna’s touch, coming all over her hand as she giggles in satisfaction. Your breath catches, your body trembling, and for a moment, the room feels impossibly small. His grip tightens around the camera, but his focus wavers—not on the shot, but on you. On the way your lips part, the way your fingers dig into the sheets, the way you meet his gaze without hesitation. He should look away. He should stop staring.

But then, you tilt your head, eyes lidded with something unreadable, and you say—soft but certain—“Come here.”

Hyunjin doesn’t move at first. He doesn’t know if he still van functioning well after watching all that. But before he can form a protest, Sienna tugs at his wrist, pulling him forward with enough force that he stumbles onto the bed, landing between you both. The camera slips from his grasp, bouncing against the mattress. He barely registers it. His pulse is too loud, his skin too hot, his mind spinning as he feels you shift closer. The air crackles with something electric, something heavy and charged, and when he finally meets your eyes again, there’s no mistaking the invitation lingering there.

Sienna laughs, low and teasing, her fingers trailing lightly down his arm. “No need to be shy, Hyunjin.”

Shy isn’t the word for what he’s feeling. Overwhelmed, maybe. Lost in the moment, definitely. And yet, when you reach for him next, when your fingers brush against his, he doesn’t pull away. In the next moment, you and Sienna draped over him, pressing close from each side of him, filling every space around him with warmth. His body is taut with tension, his mind racing to keep up, but then Sienna hums softly, her fingers grazing his cheek.

"Relax," she murmurs, tilting his chin toward her before he can even think to resist. "We're going to take good care of you."

Then, her lips press against his, soft but deliberate, a teasing glide that makes his pulse stutter. He stiffens for just a second before instinct takes over, his lips moving against hers, falling into the moment even as his thoughts spin. Sienna pulls back with a smirk, eyes dark with something unreadable, and before he can catch his breath, you’re already turning his face toward you. The anticipation coils tight in his stomach—then your lips meet his, warm and intoxicating in a completely different way. It’s slower, deeper, like you’re savoring the feel of him.

Everything is happening too fast, too intensely, but he doesn’t want to stop. Hyunjin feels the contrast between the two of you—Sienna’s confidence, your softness—melding into something that makes his breath hitch, and when you’re not capturing his lips, you’re leaving kisses along his jaw, his neck, making his head tip back as heat spreads through him like wildfire. He's completely at your mercy.

As Sienna captures his lips in a kiss again, her hands are already working their way down, her fingertips grazing along the waistband of his jeans before expertly popping the button open. You exchange quiet glances with her before your hands join hers, teasing at the fabric, watching as Hyunjin shifts beneath your touch as you slowly pulls the zipper open, the sound cutting through the silence in the room. His body reacts before his mind catches up, a sharp inhale betraying him as you and Sienna work together to rid him of the heavy denim.

You exchange amused glances at his flustered state, the way he swallows hard and clenches his jaw as if that will help him keep control. But control is slipping, unraveling with every brush of your fingers, every teasing glance exchanged between you and Sienna. He barely exhales your name before you press your palm against his clothed cock, feeling the bulge and the way it slightly twitches under your touch. Sienna follows, palming his confined bulge in her hand, her gaze flickering to yours in silent delight. “He’s so worked up,” she muses, her voice a sultry whisper. “Feel that?”

You hum, casually slipping your hand inside his brief and wrapping your fingers around him in response, softly sighing at how hot and how stiff he is. Sienna giggles softly, yanking the brief down to set his erection free before joining yours, the two of you moving in tandem, pumping his cock in slow, teasing movements, drawing out every reaction from him.

Hyunjin’s lips parted open, chest rising and falling with uneven breaths as the two of you share a knowing smile, fully aware of the effect you have on him. There’s no escaping it now. Not when you and Sienna are here, unraveling him piece by piece. Before he can process it, Sienna shifts lower, her lips ghosting over his skin, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. You follow her lead, mirroring her movements on the other side, kissing him down his ribcage, your breath featherlight against him.

Every nerve in his body is on high alert, anticipation coiling tight in his stomach. He sucks in a breath when Sienna presses an open-mouthed kiss to his abdomen, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his skin. You do the same, your lips brushing against his hip, and he twitches beneath your touch. He’s already overwhelmed, and neither of you have even done anything yet. His head falls back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as you and Sienna continue your slow exploration of him, your joined hands continuously pumping his cock at a steady pace. There’s a teasing quality to it, an unspoken challenge to see how long he can last before he completely unravels. He lets out a shaky breath, his hands clenching at the sheets, fighting the urge to grab onto something—onto you.

Then, Sienna’s voice cuts through the haze, low and teasing. “Look at him,” she muses, casting a glance your way. “He’s barely keeping it together.”

Hyunjin swallows hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze, and the knowing glint in your eyes makes his pulse stutter. You tilt your head, your hand moves up to the crest of his cock in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Should we take it easy on him?” you ask, your voice smooth, almost playful.

Sienna hums, pretending to think about it, before shaking her head. “Not a chance.”

Hyunjin believes it's the pill, whatever that is, it makes him feel way too relax that he lets out a breathless laugh in response, a mix of nerves and exhilaration, and he knows—he’s in deep, and there’s no coming back from this.

-

The heat in the room is palpable, thick with the scent of skin and something deeper—something unspoken. You and Sienna exchange a glance before leaning down, together the two of you land a long lick down his length from each side, slick and hot, Hyunjin shivers from the overwhelming sensation.

“Fuck...” The profanity repeatedly falls out of his mouth in low, breathless murmurs as he lies back against the pillows, his breath uneven as he watches the way you and Sienna move.

This time, you and Sienna run your tongue from the base of his cock, landing another long lick upward until your tongues meet at the tip and crashing against each other. He can feel every swirl of you and Sienna’s tongue brushing against the tip of his cock, not caring about the way your saliva dribbling from the corner of your mouth and wetting his cock.

Sienna takes over, putting him into her mouth when he least expects it. She hums against him and it's vibrating, making the knot inside him tightens. You reach for her hair, putting it away and holding it for her, allowing Hyunjin to see the way Sienna’s voluptuous lips wrapped around him. Despite his sheer size, Sienna manages to take most of him with her mouth before pulling away, gasping for air the moment she lets go.

“He's quite mouthful,” Sienna comments with a sheepish laugh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Despite it, you take all of your hair to the side and Sienna is quick enough to hold it for you as you lean down, taking your turn to take Hyunjin’s swollen cock into your mouth.

“Take it slowly,” Sienna murmurs, another hand putting your hair away from covering your face.

Obeying her words, you take him slowly, careful even. You take an inch and then pull back just enough to take another inch. You're being patient while Hyunjin is getting impatient under you, accidentally jerking his hips forward, causing you to pull away immediately.

"Somebody is impatient," Sienna teases, flashing a smirk toward Hyunjin.

Hyunjin fumbles to sit up on the bed, looking at you with a worried look as you fall into a coughing fit. Despite his concern, you crack a laugh as you quickly wipe your mouth. "We're good," you say.

Sienna shares a glance with you, a silent understanding passing between you before you both begin to move. Sienna settles on his right, facing his side, putting her legs over his thighs and you mirror her position on his other side, putting your legs over Sienna’s and planting them on each side of her. At the same time, you bring your cores together until Hyunjin’s cock clamped in between. His body tenses when he feels the warmth and the wet of your bare cunts pressing against him from both sides.

Your hands propped against the mattress as a support as you lift your hips and Hyunjin groans as he can feel the way your cleft rubber against his stiff cock. Sienna does the same, doubling the pleasure, making him even more helpless. Together, you and Sienna start moving. The slow, teasing drag of your wetness against his has him drawing in a sharp breath, his hands instinctively gripping the sheets. His breath ragged, his chest rises and falls with each unsteady inhale. Yet, he dares himself to see, keeping his eyes open to admire the view. The dim light casts a golden glow over your skin, highlighting every curve, every movement. His head turns to you, he likes the way your head dropped to the back, the way your breasts jiggling from the slightest of movement and the way you lowly moaning as you chase your high. The best part about it is having two versions of that view.

Hyunjin must be living in a dream because how come? How come this is happening to him? How come these hot girls are rubbing themselves against his cock? His head tilts back, his jaw clenched as he tries to keep himself from unraveling too soon. Every time his cock slides against the folds, it feels electrifying, making it impossible for him to think straight. And then, he catches you turn your head his way, a lazy, sly smile plastered on your face, stirring something inside of him that makes his eyes darken, flickering with something unreadable—desire, surrender, maybe even something deeper.

The next thing he knows, he sees your hips stuttering and he feels you pulsating against him, though you keep rubbing yourself against him in a slow, ragged motions. Sienna reaches her high not long after, letting herself collapsing onto the bed as she relishes her orgasm.

For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your slowed breathing and this time, Hyunjin takes the initiative, he sits up on the bed and crawls over to you, finding you flushed and spent, but from the sly, contented smile painted on your face, he can tell that you're ready for more.

-

The room is bathed in dim, golden light, the air thick with heat and the lingering effects of the wine and whatever Sienna had given you earlier. Your body feels like it’s floating, every touch amplified, every sensation electric.

Hyunjin is above you now, his breath warm against your skin, his eyes dark and hazy. His body presses against yours, solid and warm, and the feeling sends a slow, shivery heat rolling through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he looks right now—his dark hair falling messily over his forehead, his skin reddening around the neck and chest, and Gosh, you like how his body feels against you.

Drawn by the heat, Sienna settles right beside you, her fingers tracing absentminded patterns on your thigh as she watches you and Hyunjin with lazy amusement. Hyunjin's plush lips find yours, soft and searching, before trailing down the curve of your jaw, then lower, dragging over your throat, your collarbone. Every kiss, every brush of his mouth, makes your skin hum with anticipation. You reach up, fingers sinking into his dark locks, tugging lightly, and a quiet groan rumbles from his chest. Sienna palms your breast before offering it to Hyunjin and he wastes not time to put it into his mouth, he latches his lips around your nipple, sucking at it hard before letting go with a gasp.

Sienna chuckles beside you, her hand moving to skim over Hyunjin’s back. “Didn’t think you had it in you,” she teases, her voice a sultry whisper.

Hyunjin exhales sharply, his lips ghosting over your sternum before he turns his head toward Sienna. “Neither did I,” he admits, his voice rougher than usual.

The three of you are tangled together, limbs brushing, skin against skin, the space between you charged with something intoxicating. Sienna leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, lingering kiss, her fingers slipping into Hyunjin’s hair, pulling him closer so that all three of you are pressed together in a dizzying heat. Everything feels heightened—the press of hands, the slide of lips, the way your body arches instinctively into every touch. You don’t know where one sensation ends and another begins, only that you’re completely caught in it, completely lost in the moment.

Then, Hyunjin sits up on the bed, his eyes heavy-lidded as he takes you and Sienna in—both of you sprawled out naked before him, breathless and flushed, skin still humming from everything that’s happened. His gaze lingers, drinking in the way your bodies press together, the way your lips still taste Sienna’s in lazy, lingering kisses. You shiver as his fingers ghost over your skin, tracing a slow path down your arm, over your waist, then lower. He does the same to Sienna, his touch exploring, learning, memorizing. You feel Sienna’s lips part against yours when his fingers glides lower from your abdomen then slip between your thighs, teasing, pressing, coaxing. Your breath stutters, but you don’t stop kissing Sienna. If anything, it only deepens, your bodies shifting closer as Hyunjin’s touch grows bolder, he palms both sex with the same gentleness, his fingers fluttering between your folds before he slips two fingers in.

You and Sienna moan into each other’s mouth while Hyunjin's eyes shifting from side to side, watching as four of his fingers pumping in and out of you and Sienna simultaneously. His eyebrows knitted in concentration as he maintains the same speed on each hand, he occasionally leans down to tease the bundle of nerves with his mouth. His fingers work between you both, exploring, stroking, drawing soft sounds from your lips. You and Sienna responding by arching your back, asking for more. Your breath catches as Hyunjin’s fingers curl just right, dragging pleasure from deep within you. Sienna trembles against you, her own body tightening, her soft gasps mixing with yours.

Hyunjin doesn’t stop—not yet. He watches, fascinated, as your thighs twitch, helplessly clawing at his wrist. His other hand works between her legs with the same deliberate rhythm, and you can hear the way her breath stutters, how her fingers dig into your waist as she loses herself in the moment.

It’s almost overwhelming—the heat, the tension, the way everything builds between the three of you. And then, all at once, it crashes over you like a wave. You shudder, pressing into Sienna, feeling her body tense at the same time, both of you unraveling together.

Hyunjin exhales, his hands slowing, his touch turning gentle as he watches the way you both fall apart beneath him. He lingers a moment longer, tracing soft circles over sensitive skin, before finally withdrawing.

Breathless, bodies still humming with the lingering effects of pleasure, you and Sienna exchange a glance before turning your attention to Hyunjin. His hands hover in the space between you, fingers still damp from the moment before. Without a word, you take one hand, Sienna takes the other, and together, you guide his fingers to your lips. Your tongue flicks over his skin, tasting the remnants of your own warmth as you let your lips close around him. Sienna mirrors your actions, her eyes flickering up to Hyunjin’s face as she does. His expression is somewhere between dazed and captivated, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

A quiet hum of satisfaction escapes Sienna as she pulls back, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip of his finger before releasing him. You follow suit, letting your teeth graze lightly over his knuckles before finally pulling away, your gaze locking onto his.

Hyunjin swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he exhales a shaky breath, his hands falling to his lap. The air is thick, charged with something neither of you can quite name.

And then, Sienna breaks the silence with a low, amused chuckle. “You look like you’re about to pass out,” she teases, nudging Hyunjin’s thigh with her knee.

You smirk, reaching for his hand that is resting on your thigh. “Maybe we should give him a break.”

Hyunjin exhales a small laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice still slightly hoarse. “A break… might be good.”

Sienna shifts to lay on her side and props a hand under her head. “We’ll see about that.”

-

Hyunjin's breath is heavy, his body warm and flushed as he moves between you and Sienna. His hands glide over your skin, gripping, holding, anchoring himself as he loses himself in the moment. The heat of the room, the way you’re hovering above Sienna, your bodies pressed together with his cock slipping in between your cores, the rhythmic movement—it all blurs together into something intoxicating.

You feel his fingertips digging into your waist, his pace wavering as exhaustion creeps into his limbs, but he doesn’t stop. He’s caught between you, lost in the sounds of your moans of pleasure, in the way your bodies react to his every touch.

When his release finally comes, it’s with a shuddering gasp, his hands tightening around you as he lets go completely. You turn over, lying next to Sienna as Hyunjin kneeling on the bed, his hand roughly pumping his cock to keep the stimulation going until he finally comes, the white arch of his seed painting streaks on your stomach and Sienna’s waist, more strings landing on your thigh.

Content and spent, Hyunjin collapses onto the bed between you and Sienna, chest rising and falling rapidly, his skin damp with sweat. His limbs feel heavy, spent, but his mind is still spinning, still replaying the way you looked beneath him, the way you felt against him.

Sienna lets out a breathless chuckle beside him, wiping the mess he made with a towel. "Damn… we really wore you out, huh?"

For a long moment, none of you speak, only the sound of labored breathing filling the space. Hyunjin forces his eyes open, turning his head toward you. His gaze lingers on your face, taking in the lazy smile playing on your lips. And as exhaustion pulls him deeper into the haze, he wonders if he’ll ever be able to look at you the same way again.

The night turns quiet, the kind of stillness that settles deep into the bones. The only sounds in the villa is the occasional rustling of the trees outside. Inside the bedroom, the air is thick with warmth, the aftermath of everything that happened still clinging to the sheets.

Hyunjin lies in the dark, his body heavy against the mattress, his breath still unsteady. Beside him, you shift slightly, the soft brush of your skin against his sending a slow burn through his veins. Sienna is already asleep, her breathing deep and steady, but you’re still awake—he can tell by the way your fingers ghost over his abdomen, the way your lips find his in slow, lingering kisses.

He kisses you back, his hand sliding over your waist, pulling you closer. He likes the way you feel against him, how easily you fit into him like you belong there. And then, you drag your lips and presses it close to his ear.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you whisper, your fingers dancing, teasing the skin around his semi-hard.

He turns his head to the side, catching your eyes gleaming against the dark. He holds your chin, bringing it close until his lips only a breath away. With his voice is low and hoarse, he whispers back, “I want to feel you around me too.”

He can feel your lips curve into a smile before you kiss him again, teasing, tempting. You put one leg over his, clutching to his side as you kiss him deeper, harder—but instead of pressing forward, you pull back, your fingertips tracing along his jaw.

“But I can barely keep my eyes open anymore,” you murmur with a sheepish laugh, exhaustion lacing your words. “To be continued?”

Hyunjin exhales a quiet laugh, his forehead resting against yours. There’s a promise in your words, one he holds onto even as his body aches for more. He nods, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Okay,” he whispers, kissing you one last time.

You smile sleepily and settle beside him, your body warm against his. Within moments, your breathing evens out, and he knows you’ve drifted off.

The night stretches on, quiet and undisturbed, wrapping the villa in a hush that feels almost sacred. The weight of exhaustion pulls at him, but his mind refuses to quiet. Instead, he replays your words in his head.

To be continued? He doesn’t know what this means, where it will take the two of you, or if it’s just the lingering haze of the night making everything feel heavier than it should. But still, he hopes. Hopes that when the moment comes, you’ll still want him the way he wants you. Hopes that no matter what, you’ll keep your promise.

-

In the morning, sunlight floods the bedroom, casting a golden glow across the room. Hyunjin stirs awake to the soft warmth pressed against his side. His body feels heavy, the remnants of last night’s haze still lingering as he blinks himself into consciousness. Sienna shifts beside him, her arm draped over his chest, her body curled comfortably against his. His breath hitches for a moment, and instinctively, he turns his head—searching.

Your side of the bed is empty. The sheets are slightly rumpled, still holding the ghost of your warmth, but you’re nowhere in sight. Before he can dwell on it, Sienna stirs. She lets out a lazy sigh, stretching her arms before her eyes flutter open. A smirk tugs at her lips as she catches the way Hyunjin stiffens beside her.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice laced with sleep and amusement.

Hyunjin swallows, shifting awkwardly. His mind is still piecing together the fragments of last night—the heat, the closeness, naked bodies tangled together. His flustered expression must be obvious because Sienna chuckles, propping herself up on one elbow.

“Relax,” she says, patting his chest. “We didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His eyes widen slightly, and Sienna laughs at his reaction. “We were just having fun,” she adds, her tone light. “That’s all.”

Hyunjin exhales slowly, nodding, though the tension in his shoulders doesn’t fully ease. Fun. That’s what last night was. That’s all it was supposed to be. Why does it feel like something more to him?

He pulls on his shirt as he follows Sienna out of the bedroom, his body still sluggish from sleep. The villa is quiet except for the faint sound of something sizzling in the kitchen. As they step into the open space, the scent of freshly brewed coffee and eggs fills the air.

There you are, standing by the stove, casually dressed in an oversized shirt—his, he realizes. The hem barely reaches your thighs, and for a second, he lets himself admire the way you looked, your face is bare and your hair is a mess, but despite all that, your beauty shines the same.

You turn at the sound of their footsteps, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Good morning,” you greet, scraping the scrambled eggs off the pan. “Breakfast is ready.”

Hyunjin hesitates, watching you move so effortlessly around the kitchen, as if nothing happened—as if last night hadn’t unraveled into something that still lingers in his mind.

Sienna hums, stretching her arms above her head before making her way to the counter. “You’re an angel,” she sighs, picking up a piece of toast from the tray.

You chuckle, pouring coffee into two mugs before sliding them across the counter toward them. “Go ahead and eat,” you say, placing plates in front of them. “I made enough for all of us.”

Hyunjin sits down, his fingers wrapping around the warm ceramic of his cup. You move with ease, humming softly under your breath, completely unbothered. He doesn’t even know what he expected—maybe a glance, a smirk, some kind of acknowledgment that last night meant something. But there’s nothing. Just you, acting as if it were any other morning, as if nothing between you and him had changed. And somehow, that disappoints him more than he’d like to admit.

The three of you eat in peaceful silence, the soft clinking of utensils against plates the only sound filling the space. Hyunjin focuses on his food, chewing slowly as he steals a few glances your way. You remain casual, eating with no hint of hesitation or tension from the night before. If anything, you seem completely at ease, which only frustrates him more.

Then, you pull out your phone, unlocking it with a few taps before turning the screen toward Sienna. “Do you know this guy, uh... Felix?” you ask, showing her a Lustre profile.

Sienna leans in, squinting at the screen before her lips part in recognition. “Oh, yeah! Felix—I know him. He’s one of the top creators on Lustre. Super popular. Why?” She looks at you curiously, setting down her fork.

You take a sip of your coffee before replying. “He reached out to me,” you say, glancing between them. “Asked if I wanted to do a collab with him.”

Hyunjin grips his fork a little tighter. He doesn’t know why he’s even reacting this way. This has nothing to do with him.

Still, his stomach churns as Sienna continues, already listing the potential benefits of working with Felix. “I mean, the exposure alone would be insane. He has a huge following, and his audience would definitely subscribe to you after a collab.”

Sienna smirks, but her expression shifts when you remain serious. “So… are you gonna do it?”

You take a sip of your coffee, your fingers drumming lightly against the mug. “I haven’t decided yet.”

The words ring in Hyunjin’s head, louder than they should. He exhales slowly through his nose, forcing himself to stay silent because at the end of the day, he’s just your photographer. That’s all he is. But then, as if his own thoughts betray him, he remembers what you whispered to him last night.

To be continued?

-

✨ Chapter II of Cam is available on my Patreon page ✨

Please support my writings by kindly reblog, comment or consider tipping me on my ko-fi!

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[alienoresimagines]

Just some words I've been needing to hear for a few weeks now and once I finally wrote them down, I thought maybe there were other people who might need to hear them too ❤️

You don't need to be anyone's favorite writer for your writing to be good.

The worth of your writing is not measured by whether or not you're included in fic recs or the amount of comments/asks you get.

Your works don't need to be recognized as some of The fics of the fandom to be good or worth reading.

'Popular' writers in your fandom are also just writers (and humans!!) : you don't need to impress or be noticed by them to have a place in your fandom. Fandom should be fun so don't let your brain ruin it with a misplaced sense of competition <3

You don't need to post a fic every week to be considered a writer. You don't need to write every week to be a writer. There is no limited places in fandom: come and go as you want and as life allows you to. Post when you feel like it, there is no trend to surf on to stay 'relevant' as a fic writer or a content creator. Fandom will always wait for you.

Your writing is good, and the more you write, the more you find your style, the better it gets.

Your writing made someone's day. Your writing is helping the fandom stay alive. Your writing should make you happy, and that happiness should not be proportional to how recognized you are in your fandom.

I know it can be discouraging to see tons of fic recs in your fandom and none of them including your fics. But yesterday, when I was feeling down, I re-read my own published works because they were the stories I wanted to read. And I enjoyed reading them, so much. And that is enough to keep me writing, because it showed me there is no better person to write the stories I have in my head than myself (a huge progress considering months ago, I couldn't reread something I'd written because I was cringeing too hard to get through two sentences).

Find your people that will always hype you and your fics up: you and your writing don't have to appeal to every single person in your fandom. Write niche fics! Rarepairs seemingly no one brought up before! Include headcanons and takes and interpretations you've never seen written before!

Write the stories you are dying to read, and I promise you, you'll find other people who were hoping to find that story somewhere, too.

Your writing is unique because it can only ever be yours and same goes for your stories; your writing is worth reading and your stories are worth being written <3

[razzle-n-dazzle]

Lucifer x F!Reader [Adam’s ExGF]

[context: she’s was an angel created in heaven, and ends up dating adam for a bit this is long after Eden. and ends up leaving him not being able to handle him anymore.]

So~

Another one of his partners is stolen by Lucifer heheh.. she married him and they have a 12 month old baby. Adam being in hell now and is trying to “rehabilitate” is forced to watch his ex partner being happy something he he did so little for her when they were together.

bonus: if Adam snatches the baby’s toy from their hands causing them to cry and everyone to shout at him and argue

. . . 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘐𝘯𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘺 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 Lucifer / AFAB! Reader

‗( content / trigger warning ) not proofread (we die like Adam), AFAB! reader, reader has a kid, technically this is an (yandere?) Adam / Reader hurt fanfic in disguise, It's Helluva/Hazbin there's going to be cursing. ‗( author's note ) I'm going to try and do Lucifer's personality justice here. I had gone back to reread some of my old Lucifer fanfic to see that I mischaracterized him in a rather noticeable way (at least for me), and that doesn't fly here. So let's hope third time is a charm <3

"To be yours was like holding a thorned rose. It was pretty, sure, yet it pierced, stabbed, and bled my hands the tighter I held on to keep it alive. . . So, I let it die."

To say a bone in his body does not loath Lucifer, would be an understatement. Actually, no, it would be the foulest lie that would have ever been uttered. There was nothing in this world that Adam despised more than Lucifer Morningstar; The fallen angel of corrupted dreams, a thief and tainter of pure hearts, the sole creator of sin and everything that is wrong within the world. Simply to put it, if Adam had a chance to fuck as many women as he could want, in all the positions he could ever hope for, or torture Lucifer without a single repercussion until he's dead on hell's floor; He'd choose the latter. After all, who wouldn't hate the guy after everything he did? Well, apparently one person didn't, and Adam couldn't understand why.

You: The love of his life. Adam didn't get it, he really didn't. How could you, one of the most perfect people in creation, end up with someone like . . . Lucifer? And how could, promptly, Lucifer have been the one to end Adam up in Hell! And how, just how, did Adam ever think he needed the help of Lucifer's daughter to quote-on-quote rehabilitate when he's the original dick and would end back in Heaven by default?! And yet, even with all those questions and odds stacking up against him, Adam still found himself sitting at Husker's bar. He still found himself watching as you sat next to Lucifer, holding a literal baby on your lap, while Charlie cooed over her new baby brother. Honestly, he was a second away from slamming his drink down on the counter or across the hotel lobby to hopefully crack Lucifer's skull open. That fucking bastard. He had no right to not only be sitting next to you right now, calling you his lover, but to knock you up with his kid! He didn't deserve you. No one deserved you but Adam and yet you dumbed him! Him! The original dick, the original first man. Pft. It's your loss anyways. He's so much better than what's his stupid fucking face and his stupid fucking kids. Pft, yeah. It's not like he cared at all! After all, he could have that stupid(ly beautiful) grin on your face ten times brighter than Lucifer could ever.

Adam's days were absolutely miserable anytime You and Lucifer came over to the Hotel, as there was little chances of avoiding either of you. Sure, maybe Adam could hide in his room and pretend like he never say either of you on your visit days. Sure, maybe he could go out on the town and possibly meet someone that was ten times better than you. And, sure, maybe he could just do one of the million annoying tasks Charlie had for the residents. Yet, there was still no avoiding either of you. Not for Adam. Because avoiding you would show Lucifer that he won. That he managed not only to take Lilith, yet Even, and now You away from Adam and let it affect him. Adam was not ever giving Lucifer that satisfaction, and he wasn't going to let you have the satisfaction of knowing that he still . . . loves you. Not that you would be paying attention, anyways. You haven't even spared him a glance, other than courteous waves of hellos when Adam was near some of the other residents. So, if you had moved on, so had Adam! And, frankly, much to Adam's dismay, you had. The fall from Heaven hadn't been a pretty one, not at all. The Seraphim had stripped you of your wings, casted you down based on a senseless accusation that could have "threatened the whole order of the Heavens". It was unjust, and it had stung you heavily during the first few months, but you slowly learnt to cope. Finding someone who could share your same pains helped, immensely. Lucifer had been that person for you. The person who, despite everything you had gone through, seemed to always understand where you were coming from; And, likewise, you were that person for Lucifer. You had made Lucifer believe he could fall in love again, and Lucifer had made you believe you could dream again. That you could create without judgement. And, after years of courting, to two years of being fiancés, to the wedding and now a year and a half of being married you two had a beautiful baby boy. And, much like Charlie, he was the little joy of your shared lives. "Ceyx!" Charlie would laugh as her baby brother tugged on her hair. It was a little painful, yet Charlie didn't mind too much. Not when he looked so adorable with his chubby little cheeks and those big round eyes. "Sorry! Sorry, I should have warned you he started his hair pulling phase," You would pull away from Lucifer, who sat besides you, to gently try and coax Ceyx to let go of Charlie's chair. Though, Ceyx apparently only saw this as a fun little game as he let out a spit of babbles and laughs while you were gently attempting to pry his little hands off. "He had only been interested in Lucifer's hair until now." Charlie would wave you off gently, laughing softly, "No, no, it's alright!" As she had to crane her neck slightly so Ceyx's playful tugs didn't feel like he was trying to rip out her hair. A scowl spread on Adam's face, with furrowed eyebrows and hate-filled eyes, as he watched you five from the top of the stairs. This was the second time You had came over in the last week and he got sicker by the passing visit. And this time was no different, his stomach churn with abhorrence, as he watched Lucifer swoop from next to you to in front of your baby, giving him some tickles on his belly. Adam watched as Ceyx would babble happily seeing his father's face before exploding into a fit of giggles and laughter once Lucifer began to tickle him. He nearly vomited seeing the little baby faces Lucifer was making. Yet, his heart broke seeing the way that your eyes twinkled at Lucifer, staring at him so fondly and lovingly. A look you had reserved for Adam. A look, he knew but continuously denied the truth of, he would never get again from you.

It's not like he cared anyways! . . . Not one bit. Not even as he watched as Lucifer would scoop up Ceyx, whose eyes carried the same shade and light as yours, and spin him around. Entertaining the baby while Vaggie assisted Charlie with fixing her hair, while Charlie watched her dad fond over the newest addition to the Morningstar family. Adam didn't even care when you stood up, gently placed a hand on Lucifer's shoulder, and pecked his cheek. It didn't boil his blood. And, of course, it's not like he needed answered from you. No way. And it was not the reason why Adam stalked your figure from above when you went to the bar to order drinks, after asking your family if they needed anything. And it was 100% not the reason why Adam went to the bar while Husk was mixing your drinks and sit down right next to you. He just needed to catch your eye on final time. To prove to himself that he still held some bit of your heart, that he still had some sort of chance against him, against Lucifer. And, yet, he found no such light in your eyes. You had simply glanced over to him, checking who had sat down next to you. Sure, you didn't give him a vindictive or disgusted look, like most of his exs would have, you didn't really react either. A simply, courteous, greeting before your drinks were finish. You, Adam's eyes, took the first chance to leave the conversation. And it stabbed right through his heart. But it's not like he cared! . . . Right? No! He didn't. He couldn't possibly! I mean, there were so many women fishing after his dick that you, oh wonderful you, didn't even matter to him. Once he got back up to Heaven, he'll find another bitch to replace you like- Snap!- that! He was Adam, after all.

You had been trying to keep things civil between You and Adam during every trip to the Hotel, really. Sure, you had been seriously dating but that didn't mean you had to have tension with the man! Even if he had been a douchebag during your entire relationship, you just didn't need that sort of stress, not with the new baby. But, Heaven's dammit, had he crossed the line today! Charlie had bought a little play pen for Ceyx to play in recently, having set it up and everything for your next visit to the Hotel. It sat a in front of the couch that Charlie, Lucifer, Vaggie, and you usually sat at and wasn't particularly in anyone's way. Charlie had wanted to show you both some of the new-new renovations made to the hotel and you had all thought that Ceyx would be alright with Vaggie in his play pen. You didn't miss the way Lucifer's eyes glanced back towards Ceyx, though, as you three walked up the main staircase. His eyebrows furrowed and his steps slowly stopped, so noticeable in fact that Charlie and you were sure he was about to race down the stairs and snatch Ceyx from his playpen and bring him with you. And you knew he didn't not trust Vaggie, he was just cautious. "He'll be fine, Luci," Your soft, whispered, voice was coaxing Lucifer away from Ceyx. It would only be a moment, you had said, as your hands rested gently on his. The gesture would draw his arm up as you took a step, and then a second, and by the third he reluctantly began to follow you up. Heavens, you wished you listened to his worried father instincts earlier. As mid-tour Vaggie's voice peirced through the whole hotel, "What the FUCK do you think you're doing?!" Which was enough for a signal for Lucifer to dart right back around and sprint down the hallway. Leaving Charlie and you in a dust of confusion for a moment, before you shared a worried look at each other and darted off after him.

The lobby of the hotel was in complete disarray when you caught up to Lucifer, to which he was already on the main floor. His heels clacked on the floor as he skidded to a stop between Vaggie, who held Ceyx, and Adam. Lucifer's breath was labored, yet he still raised his chin as his eyes pierced daggers at Adam. In that moment, in the intensity of his look, you truly understood why Lucifer was dubbed the King of Hell; Even with his wings unfurled and stretched out. Ceyx's cries died down for a moment upon seeing his father, though they only stirred back up feeling the tension, as thick as butter, in the room. "Woah, woah! Hey, what happened?!" Charlie exclaimed as she rushed down the stairs, trying to play mediator before someone decided to jump the other. You soon followed after her, stopping by Charlie's side with a hand rested on her shoulder. Vaggie huffed, standing on the couch with one leg on the cushion and the other on the back of the couch, "Your new guest" —she spat with vigor— "decided it would be a brilliant idea to mess with Ceyx and snatch his toy away while he was playing with it!" And, oh boy, if you didn't smell the smoke from the fire that burnt between Lucifer's horns before, you sure did now. It boiled, flared, and smoked out black with Lucifer's outrage. "How FUCKING dare you!" hissed Lucifer as his fingers flexed, the knuckles in his fingers cracking. "You think you can come into MY DAUGHTER'S Hotel—" "Lucifer," you tried to quell the situation, but knew it would be a futile attempt. "—and put your GRUBBY FUCKING HANDS on MY CHILD!—" Charlie attempted next, stretching out the 'a' in a cautious manner as she gently took a step forward, "Dad!" To only scramble the step back as Lucifer growled. "—and think YOU WOULD GET AWAY WITH IT YOU BASTARD!" and you would subconsciously shield Charlie's eyes with a hand as Lucifer reeled back and punched Adam across the lobby. Flinching as he crashed right next to the bar, leaving a nasty dent in the wall, you whispered a small sorry to Charlie for the damage. Vaggie didn't seem too bothered by the whole event though, as she cautiously stepped down from the couch with Ceyx once Adam was away. There was a jolt back when Lucifer snapped his head around, glaring over at Vaggie once he reregistered that his son was balling his eyes out; And you were a bit afraid Lucifer might punch Vaggie too, yet the haunting glow of red slowly subsided when soft pale yellow eyes grew upon seeing Ceyx. And Adam, as he pushed the debris of the wall off him with a groan, sat up to the scene of Lucifer gently picking up Ceyx from Vaggie's hands. The way his eyes shrunk just a little, while his pupils inflated, with a scrunched and worried eyebrow made Adam sick of looking at his stupid face. Especially when he cuddled and coddled the child, who would have been just fine if everyone didn't make a big deal out of everything. "Fucking snowflakes," Adam would grumble under his breath. His glare pierced the wall nearby before a shadow in front of him covered his light and caught his attention. He was sure it was just someone else there to berate him for something that wasn't even a big deal. And he was about to flip them off, to tell them to go fuck off, until he realized who it was. . . You stood in front of Adam, slamming your foot into his his chest with a snarl on her otherwise beautiful (in Adam's opinion) face, "What the hell was that?!" "What was what?!" Choked Adam as he met your eyes again. You gave him your undivided attention, and sure while it was filled with venom and hate, it was still attention. And, for some reason, he couldn't help but fold under it a little. Dammit! He wouldn't do this for anyone else, so why were you so different?!

"On don't play fucking dumb with me, Adam! You know exactly why you did and I want answers from you." You spat at him, venom leaking from your tone like a snake coiling around his body to squeeze him. And for once Adam was at a loss for words. At least, words that would make the situation better, as all that filled his mind was you. You and how you looked over him. How you were so close Adam could reach his hands out and grab your waist, pulling you down onto his lap. The smell of your perfume, it was different than he remembered yet it suited you. You eyes . . . still that same shade he always loved and- "Fuck, Babe," he would groan, not off put by the way your face drew back with suprise and then scrunched with pure, unfiltered disgust. "You're so fucking hot like thi—" Adam didn't get to finish his statement before a hard— SMACK!— echoed in the lobby, swiftly hushing the voiced that came from around Ceyx. They had been cooing at him, comforting him, though sharply turned to watched as you huffed your way back over to the group and away from Adam; Who was slightly flushed on the floor, a crude snicker stretched on his lips, which did almost nothing to mask the pain that filled his eyes.

Adam had always loathed Lucifer. Yet, after that day it became more deep rooted. Lucifer had taken everyone from him, he started two families that were meant to be his, and he did it without a single drop or tear of remorse. You were meant to be Adam's, Adam was meant to be yours. This isn't how it was supposed to go! And yet. . . when you returned to Lucifer, you whispered to you a concerned question, a small smile returned to your face as you rested his query to bed. And Adam would never forget the way you leaned against Lucifer, gently reaching out for your child, more at content and at peace next to him than you had ever been with Adam. That's when it all truly sunk in for Adam. . . and oddly, it made his desire for you burn more.

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[a-d-nox]

tumblr posts i love to reference that aren't mine (part 3)!

i can't think of a better way to head into the new year then to continue a tradition i started in 2022 - sharing some positivity and promote some of my favorite creators on tumblr! i have linked just a few of many incredible posts regarding an assortment of topics and i hope to add more to a new post in the future but until then...

paid reading options: astrology menu & cartomancy menu

enjoy my work? help me continue creating by tipping on ko-fi or paypal. your support keeps the magic alive!

here are some great posts!

astro basics

astro basics #4: understanding domicile, exalted, detriment, and fall placements by @dreamofmetoday

aquarius through the houses by @hopeastrz

libra through the houses by @hopeastrz

lunar phases by @vivmaek

ic signs & inherited behaviors by @aeth-eris

pisces and neptune through the houses by @hopeastrz

the second house by @cupidlovesastro

deepening your understanding

aspects of chiron by @elysiansparadise

the astrology of titties by @starofyoruba-archived

element dominance - composite by @cupidlovesastro

indigenous astrology

african astrology by @novy2sirius

aztec astrology by @novy2sirius

midpoint astrology

reading the midpoint table by @corvoidea

saturn-pluto midpoint by @corvoidea

non-astro things

letterology name notes by @novy2sirius

symbols and their meaning (bug edition) by @cupidlovesastro

i appreciate all 4.7k of you! and i love all the friends i have made here who help me to both learn and grow. i wish you all the best - here is to health, happiness, love, and learning! talk more it 2025! CHEERS!

a.d. nox <3

return to nox's guide to metaphysics

[marwhoa]

request: hi hil! I read your work and it was amazing! I was hoping you would write the rise boys with a vigilante s/o? (Gn) but the boys don't know that yet and one day s/o is fighting the foot or someone, you decide, then their turtle bf shows up and helps them. S/o forgot they were in costume for a minute before running to their turtle in shining shell and kissing them, so it turns into a whole thing and s/o unmasks themself, how do the boys react??

🝮 “ violet virus ”

rise!donnie x vigilante!g/n

author’s note: eeee !! Gosh I’ve been meaning to post for months, but multiple x readers always stump me. I like making each a completely different story, and sometimes that ends up with me writing waaaay too much. So! I separated this one into a solo. Raph Mikey and Leo will be their own post since I imagine they’ll be much shorter… unless I’m a little freak again and write too much 😭😭. Sheldon’s speech will be the same color as Donnie’s but in italics :))

word count: 4.5k

“ I don’t understand why you won’t disclose this information, Shelldon. ”

Grumbles the turtle clad in purple as he sits on the floor of his lab. Tools are strewn around within reaching distance, framing him, Shelldon, and the computer plugged into the robot boy. The screen displayed a long history of access points to Shelldon’s database—none of which Donnie had the clearance for.

Odd.

A little sigh plays from the little bot’s speakers as his digital eyes shift elsewhere.

“ The information you seek is, like, confidential, dude! ”

“ Whuh—not only are you keeping secrets from your father, but you would even ‘dude’ your own father?! Poppycock! ”

Frustrated, Donnie throws his hands in the air, eyes fixated on the display screen. Error sounds growled through the computer’s speakers each time his program attempted to break through its encryption.

Just who could write an encryption code that could thwart even Donnie?

“ It just makes no sense. As not only your father but also creator, I should have complete access to any and all of your databases. Is this a rebellious development, update 1.2?! ”

Shelldon rolls over, groaning out in annoyance. He couldn’t just flat-out tell him, “ oh papà! you mustn’t worry, i am only hiding the identity of a certain vigilante you’ve yet to encounter! “, no, no, that would be absurd.

That would be a betrayal to you, Donnie’s kindhearted significant other who just couldn’t stand for the Purple Dragons’ treatment towards your dearest darling dear. I mean, what partner would stand on the sidelines as a measly cheerleader in the face of someone daring to disrespect YOUR boyfriend? Quite literally the smartest man alive (probably)?

It didn’t help your case that you were pretty powerless, aside from some scrounged-up determination, a pinch of courage, and a heavy dosage of computer expertise. Nothing up to par with Donnie, but it was remarkable by human’s standards. Combine that with the help of a sentient robot named Shelldon, and you were a force to stand on equal footing with that malicious group of super-nerd-punks.

Watching Donnie writhe with frustration, Shelldon can’t help but hope his walls were stronger than his father���s.

“ Maybe it’s nothing to worry about, bro, let’s just—“

“ Nothing to worry about—/nothing to worry about/— oh, it’s nothing to worry about, he says! “

A ding resonating from Shelldon draws Donnie’s attention for a second. His frustration churns, flashing into curiosity. It seems as though some sort of distress message has came through, but with a chime unlike what he’s programmed. Donnie drops his head with a laughter akin to a parent reaching their breaking point.

“ Oh-ho-ho, dear son of mine, ”

Mouth open, ready to retort with a snarky tone, Donnie raises his head up but holds his tongue at the sight.

An uncharacteristic silence blankets the robot-boy. Shelldon’s eyes begin to flicker until they beam with deep, velvety-purple hue.

Donnie flinches, shielding his eyes from the bright LEDs as he pointed and snapped his fingers.

“ AH-HAH! See, I knew it. This IS a problem! ”

Shelldon rises to his feet and turns robotically before then breaking into a brisk sprint. The cord plugged into him snatches the laptop a few feet before it ultimately yanks from Shelldon’s socket. Before Donnie could call him to return, his son shifts to quite literally propelling himself out of the lair from the rocket launchers in his feet.

Coughing and waving away the residual smoke, Donnie squints at Shelldon’s rapidly disappearing silhouette. He groans exasperatedly as his hands pull at nonexistent hair.

“ Damn it, I knew he wasn’t old enough to have those installed, Shelldon!! ”

Grabbing his tech-bo, Donnie wasted no time in following right after him.

——-

While your poor partner-in-crime found himself under his father’s interrogation, you are none-the-wiser as your fingers skirt across a keyboard. Your purple gloves whir quietly as they accelerate the computer’s performance—the faster you get out, the better. The display’s light shone on your outfit, one befitting a vigilante’s need for secrecy. Your hair was held back by a bandana while your face was obscured by a half-mask from the bridge of your nose to your jaw. A pair of glasses rested upon it with a little purple ‘ D ‘ logo in the corner.

A long sleeve turtle neck covered your arms and torso with angular purple lines following the underside of your arms and down your sides, tucked into a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring waist. The pants tucked into a sturdy pair of boots, all matching with black and purple. If the light caught you in the right way though, then the faintest detail of smaller purple embellishment akin to the lines running along a modem board would shimmer.

That was a detail you were most proud of, albeit purely cosmetic.

But never mind that, you manage to squirrel your way into a hub room of sorts with large metal cabinets filled to the brim with wirings, likely powering the entire lair. The floor occasionally lit up with the rush of purple LED lights pulsing through thin indents on the floor. You didn’t know what information they carried or to where, but that was not your current concern.

“ Alright, Dragons, what are you looking for with the OKE YX23 system’s blueprints… ”

You whisper to yourself. As streams of data rapidly scroll across the screens, you soak it all up through a pair of modified glasses. They accelerate your comprehension and store databases chock full of what you saw in seconds. It was a neat gadget born of your own genius, albeit with just a bit of help from your beloved Donnie.

“ Supersuits? Why super… ”

Squinting, you slow your feverish typing pace and pinch your fingers on the projected hologram to zoom in and section off a few documents. Blueprints upon blueprints flood your senses, designs for all types of suits, each fully equipped for specific situations calling for varying levels of strength, agility, dexterity, and more. A few documents even detail their uses, discussing ideal fantasies of potential war use.

“ No… No way! This is.. I have to send all this data over to Shelldon. ”

Removing your glasses, you tap the shell icon at the top corner of the left lens to send it all to your partner in crime, Shelldon. As a low chime resonates from the glasses, confirming a successful message delivered, you stare at the purple D logo. Your thumb strokes it fondly as you purse your lips in contemplation.

“ Once I’m done with these dragons, maybe… Maybe it’s time to tell him who I am.. ”

You idle for a moment, your free hand balling in and out of a fist beside you. Wracking your head for answers, your thumb began to stroke the pad of your folded index finger as a sort of grounding measure.

“ … For now, I’ll put a pin in that, I need to figure out how to get out of here. ”

As you shift away from the computer to head out, a loud clanging of the door being forced shut in front of you was enough to set off alarms in your head. Paling, you click your boot’s heel against the cold metal floor a few times. There, you had planted one of your small gadgets to allow quick and easy hacking. It was an attempt to connect and override the system to get the door open, but as you’re met with nothing save for the soft thuds of your foot, a heavy pressure weighs on your chest.

They must have found you out. How long have they known you were here?

Goosebumps scurry along your arm as you look over your shoulder for the compressed hiss of doors mechanically sliding open. Previously hidden doors pulled apart to reveal a hidden hallway and a bot stepping through, its digital gaze settled on you while its heavy footfalls shook the room.

“ Ohhhh noooo… ”

Dragging out the syllables, the blueprints you just saw on the screen were currently whirring to life before you. At the sound of a grating, familiar cackle playing through the contraption’s speakers, your blood chills.

Not good.

“ Looks like a rat slipped through the cracks. ”

You could recognize her voice anywhere. What’s your escape route now? Have they closed all of them off? God, you did not prepare for a fight today—that was NOT on the itinerary!

“ Perfect opportunity to see what these puppies can do though. ”

Fully facing the super-suit occupied by Kendra, you take a hesitant step back as your eyes scan the room. They land on a rather ordinary looking door on your far left, equidistant to you both. The chance to get some distance is all too tempting.

Unfortunately, just as your foot raises to break into a bolt, an “ ah, ah, ah~ ” taunts through the mech’s speaker as it sends a projectile whisking past you with a high pitched pachoo! The object sparks against the wall it strikes and ignites instantly. You can’t help the spike in fear shooting through you internally as the blast destroys part of the room and sends debris flying.

With barely a chance to gather your bearings, your gaze raises helplessly as the bulky suit Kendra was operating closed the gap between you both and slammed a heavy fist towards you. It strikes the ground with a heavy THUMP, leaving a dent that was barely off enough to feel comfortable. You raise your hand to the purple logo on your glasses that sends an S.O.S. distress call to your man-in-the-chair, Shelldon.

Scrambling to get away, you lunge towards one of the wire-filled cabinets palms-first in an attempt to hack and utilize some to your advantage. Before your program fully engaged, you’re yanked away full-force and sent skidding across the floor. In your peripheral you notice two more of these suits enter the room. This is hardly the time to get distracted, you scold yourself, glancing back to Kendra in a nick of time.

“ Shit, shit, shit, shit!! ”

You scream, narrowly dodging a shrapnel of metal whisking past your ducked head and embedding itself into the opposite wall.

“ ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! ”

Through a dramatic display of physical prowess, you screech and lunge every which way to avoid each zipping attack the bot sends towards you. To make matters worse, two more robotic suits emerge from behind the first.

“ That could’ve killed me, you runts! ”

Glaring, you turn your gaze to the maniacally laughing trio of super-nerds, donning what appeared to be the exact same super suits in the documents, all said to be powered by an all-too-powerful AI-chip. The suits’ reflexes are swift n’clean, ran by a superior digital brain that seems to be predicting all your movements even before you know them. In any other circumstances, you would have marveled in their presence.

However, right now it serves as too-great of a foe for you alone. In a pathetic display to keep up, you try to stand your ground against the super suits in a recipe of chaos that ends with you cornered and exhausted.

“ Now, now, Violet Virus,”

The leader, Kendra, steps towards you in a suit designed for strength. It’s bulky, intimidating, and an overall pain. You almost wonder if sheer artillery built into that suit was enough to single-handedly replace an entire army.

Behind her stood Jeremy in a suit built for speed—it’s racing LEDs left you dizzy if you stared too long and was designed to reach speeds fast enough that the residual shock alone might be enough to give your eardrums a hell of a jolt. Its fit was slim and sharp, fitting for the purpose.

Last is Jason, who..

Well..

He didn’t have some flashy suit for some reason.

Honestly, it seems more like just a prop suit. You didn’t even know if it did anything—to be frank, it kind of looked like they picked it up at Spirit Halloween.

“ You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. ”

Kendra’s suit thuds towards you, crouching in front of you. Her robotic hand reaches out to grip your chin between the thumb and index.

“ But that’s all I’ll give you. “

You’re starting to get antsy, mentally begging Shelldon to hurry up in helping you out of this ordeal. In the mean time, you muster the meanest glare, peering through the visual retinas of the machine. The speaker picks up her low scoff.

“ Well, maybe I should reward our little idiot for that signal to our friend,Othello von Ryan. ”

The boys behind her share a laugh in response.

“ … Who? ”

Confused, you yank from her grip, teeth bared in disgust. As powerless as you are to super-suits, an idiot was no where near appropriate to describe you. In fact, to say you were a vigilante with nothing but your boyfriend’s robot under your belt was a lie.

See, your outfit was littered with all types of covert gadgets. This included a pair of gloves and boots to match with dull, illuminated swirls under the pads of your fingers and heels of your feet. Within those swirling pools of light happened to be lie dozens of little terminals awaiting for your command to reshape and hack into any dormant or idle appliances and tech within range.

Pinned to the ground in a sitting position, your hands laid palms down on either side of your body and feet flat to carry out the rest of this operation. So long as they keep their focus on you, they will be completely blind-sided by your retaliation. Inaudible over the commotion, a low groan of circuitry in the walls bowed as your programs seep into their systems.

“ I don’t know who that is, but you’re crazy if you think this battle is in any of your favors! ”

You growled out as the ceilings cave from serpentine cables raining sparks haphazardly. Your program had sent a sort of “ suicidal-sentience ” command through nearby wires that influenced them to rip apart and focus an assault on the super-suits.

Kendra growls in annoyance as metal panels from above knock her to the ground. The limbs of her robotic suit are then coiled up by the snake-like wires. She turns to see a similar fate befalling Jason.

But not Jeremy.

“ Oh, but it is in my favor. ”

Kendra cocked her head in Jeremy’s direction, grinning with an energy that sent shivers down your spine. His suit was equipped with speeds your program couldn’t fathom keeping up with, and as his suit whipped to your side before you could try to run, you were struck and pinned flat against the floor.

“ That was a clever yet feeble attempt. See, we know all about your assets. ”

Kendra recovers quick as she moves her suit to rip the cables off her.

“ … What assets!?”

You kick your legs, trying to get free. Just how much do they know? What do they know? What or which assets could they mean? You hold your tongue in fear of spilling information to potential bluff.

Amidst your confusion, Kendra doesn’t seem too impressed. She might have burst a fuse if not for Jeremy clearing his throat and intervening.

“ What she means, Violet Virus, is we intercepted your help signal. ”

The hair on the back of your neck rose up.

That explains the lack of indication from Shelldon that he received your signal. Your expression sours with worry. What use did they have with him? And wait, Othello von Ryan—

“ You didn’t honestly think you could serve any sort of threat to us, right? Had you even considered that we—practical GENIUSES of the modern technological age—may not have planned to stop at these suits? ”

—Wasn’t that one of Donnie’s aliases?

Kendra roughly shoves Jeremy aside as she crouches back down to eye-level with you. In this moment, you begin to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe—

“ Your naïveté is sickeningly cute, Vivi, this wasn’t our goal. ”

—you might have bitten off more than you can chew.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Panic was washing over you.

With ice coursing through your veins, you thought about calling Donnie. Maybe if you confess everything about being Violet Virus, he’ll come help?

Or, would he be mad that you kept such a secret and did something so reckless by yourself? A heat wells up in your chest, igniting a fight with the chills. Flashes of hot and cold ran over you as the pieces fell into place.

How long have they known you were working with Shelldon?

Did they let you sneak in this far?

Were you just a stepping stone to get Shelldon?

…

Do they know your identity?

Your mouth dries at that notion. You need to hurry and turn these tides, but before you could put any plan forth, the wall beside you crumbles as a familiar short stature burst through.

The little robot gave heavy thuds as his feet rose and fell against the floor without any personality.

How did everything go so wrong?

“ Shelldon? “

Tone low, hardly loud enough to even be a whisper, you stared wide-eyed at a robot without a twinge of the boy you knew.

“ Shelldon’s not his name anymore, Violet Virus. ”

Kendra’s suit rises above you then moves to tower beside Shelldon. She raises her mechanical hand and rests it firmly on his shoulder.

“ This is Pulverizer now! ”

A series of “ no’s ” fall from your lips as you scramble to your feet and close the gap between you and Shelldon. Your hands tremble around him, unsure where to rest while Kendra breaks down in laughter beside you both.

You could see the computing of some program flickering behind Shelldon’s eyes, indicated some software actively downloading. He remained unfazed by your presence.

“ Shelldon, no, no, no, what are they doing to you?! I have to get you out of here, I’m so—“

“ Pulverizer, engage combat program ZG.09X, ”

Kendra interjects, barking some sort of command. You glance to her then back to Shelldon, baffled as he seems to respond only to that and not any of your efforts. Your eyes widen as his arm begins reeling back.

“ What did they do to y—“

A quick thwack interrupts you as Shelldon socks you across the jaw with a force so heavy it sends you to the floor a few feet. The hit cracked and crumbled part of your mask as bits of it sprinkle the path from Shelldon to where you’d landed. Your glasses had been slightly bent from your head knocking against the floor. The pain throbs through your skull, ebbing from the cheek your hand rose to caress in disbelief.

“ D-Donnie.. ”

As you stared at Shelldon thunking towards you, you couldn’t help but tremble and wish you weren’t alone. This was too much for you, and you found yourself imagining what it would have been like if you had teamed up with Donnie in the beginning instead of being a solo-hero.

Shelldon reels his arm back again, and you raise yours in a feeble attempt to shield yourself.

Shutting your eyes tight, you brace for the impact.

“ SHELLDON, PROTOCOL BOGEY-DOWN 61E9 ACTIVATE! ”

“ What—!? ”

Kendra whips her head around towards the same entrance Shelldon initially created.

You stare wide eyed as your boyfriend bursts in and shouts a command to Shelldon. His dramatic entrance is punctuated by him riding his tech-bo like a hoverboard.

Donnie jumps off, landing straight into Kendra’s mech with enough force to topple it over. He casts a glance in your direction, squints with suspicion, but then turns back to Kendra.

“ I knew it—SEE, I knew it! ”

The purple-banded turtle paces in front of the dazed Kendra, throwing his hands up in frustration. He stops to point back and forth between Shelldon and the rest of the Purple Dragons.

“ Who else could be meddling with MY son’s database but this group of wannabes! “

“ W-Wannabes? Othello von Ryan, this is whe.. damn.. ”

Winded, Kendra takes a pause to catch her breath. Jason tries to come and help her up but gets swatted away immediately. Angrily, she huffs and operates the suit to shove itself back onto its feet.

“ Get AWAY from me, Jase, UGH! Othello Von Ryan, prepare to be defeated by our revenge! Pulverizer, engage combat program ZG.734! ”

She cackles maniacally, jabbing a finger in Donnie’s direction. When Shelldon doesn’t move, the speaker goes quiet for a few beats.

Then, it starts playing a bunch of loud clanks, likely from Kendra frustratedly hitting things inside the suit.

Donnie, however, glances at Shelldon then back at Kendra and stomps his foot. He points an accusatory finger in her direction.

“ Oh by Galileo, if you lot did anything nefarious to Shelldon’s programming, so help me! ”

Sheldon’s fist wavers a few inches from you as different lines of code scroll past his eyes, registering the command Donnie called out. After hearing Kendra’s command, the lines of code began rapidly switching direction until a click resounds. He blinks a few times then looks down at you.

“ No! Damn it, what happened!? ”

Kendra pummels the ground enough times to leave a hefty dent.

Donnie scoffs at her, crouching to stare into the visual receptors of the mech-suit.

“ I see you did not consider I may have created an anti-dragons program with the idea that you would want to control my tech again, did you? ”

As Shelldon came back to his senses, he glanced every which way in confusion. One second he was being interrogated, the next..

“ Your distress signal! Y/—I mean, Violet Virus, bro, what’s the haps? How’d I get here? Ohh, Donnie’s gonna be so pissed at me, dude, he almost found out ab—“

You gawk at Shelldon’s loud voice, shushing him loudly. Whispering, you quickly scold him.

“ Shelldon! We can discuss it later, but right now we need to get out of h—“

As you gesture to leave, you are instead met with Donnie being sent flying straight into you. Your foreheads collide as you’re sent back against the ground with him dazed over you.

“ Technologically advanced mecha suits is an upgrade from our last encounter, I’ll give you that! ”

One of Donnie’s hands rests beside your head while the other holds his forehead, rubbing where you both collided. He groans in pain.

Similarly, you hold both hands against your forehead and writhe dramatically beneath Donnie at the pain echoing from not just your lower jaw where Shelldon struck you, but your forehead too now.

“ Ow, ow, oww! Donnie, that… that.. hurt.. ”

Your voice peters off as you look up at him. The fear was already beginning to melt away as your eyes scan across his face. He had such an uncanny habit of coming when you called, and this situation was no different. As relief washes over you, you forget yourself for a second and reach to give him a kiss. You’re just so lucky to have someone so dependable as him, even in situations where he didn’t mean it. You vow to tell him everything after this.

As your hands cup the sides of his face, Donnie opens his eyes to see you leaning in.

“ Whoa—HEY? ”

Mechanical limbs splay out of his shell and quickly put distance between you and him, stirring a squeak of surprise from you as he stares at you bewildered.

“ I don’t know you! This is a complete violation of personal space and my individual rights! ”

He shouts in disbelief, covering himself like a woman caught naked.

… Oh..

Oh yeah.

Your face flushes with embarrassment instantly. Right now you aren’t Donnie’s girlfriend, but rather Violet Virus. You stand up, ready to explain yourself, only to be immediately knocked back down to your knees as an explosion from another one of Kendra’s projectiles goes off behind you. Donnie’s attention shifts from you to the Purple Dragons.

“ What sort of looney tries to kiss stranger during combat, he exclaims in disbelief! ”

Donnie vents aloud as he twirls his tech-bo around his body. Generating enough speed from the action, he then lunges towards Kendra. Right before he strikes, his index taps a button on the shaft of the swirling bo. Its speed increases as the tip shifts into a hammer-like shape and propels like a rocket to clock Kendra’s super-suit mech across the face. The strike is heavy enough that the robot’s head twists and twists the wrong direction until it pops clean off.

“ No, it’s not like that—and don’t call me a looney! Just, you know me! ”

“ No I don’t! The nerve of some people. I feel the need to add I am a happily taken man! “

You stumble over your words as you try to explain yourself. Slamming your palms against the floor, you inject another offensive virus into the room’s system as your glasses accelerate your visual capacities to keep up with Jeremy’s suit. Just as the program goes into effect, you’re pulled back as Jason’s arm catches your neck in his elbow.

He pulls you back, choking you as the program sets loose through the wires held in the cabinet. The cables surge out and land upon Jeremy’s suit, connecting to ports and lighting it up with enough power to overload and shut down the entire contraption. He gets lit up like a Christmas tree for a second before the suit slams into the ground non-responsive.

You hear a low ‘ damn it! ‘ from inside his suit.

Kicking your feet to try and be free from Jason’s grip, you’re let go only after Shelldon lands one of his heavy, rocket-powered punches to send the boy across the room. Even though he’s an enemy, you wince sympathetically at how much that must’ve hurt.

“ Thanks Shelldon.. ”

You murmur, rubbing your neck. Shelldon beams with pride towards you until Donnie steps between you both. His mechanical spider limbs shooting out once more to make some distance between you two.

" I’d appreciate you not fraternizing with the enemy, Shelldon. ”

He steps away from you and closer to Shelldon.

“ But Donnie, Violet Virus isn’t the enemy! ”

“ Yeah, I’m not an enemy, Donnie, just listen to me for a second! ”

“ Firstly, Shelldon, you’re on a friendly name basis with this fiend?! And secondly, Violet Virus, how do you know who I am? Does my reputation exceed me, I wonder? ”

He pauses for a moment to think to himself, likely basking in the idea of his popularity reaching farther, then shakes away the thought. Donnie takes a few steps closer to you with an intimidating air.

“ This is no good, no, no. Violet Virus, might it have been you who— Hold on. ”

As his gaze fixates on your glasses, you sharply suck in a breath by accident. Coughing, everything you wanted to say caught up too quick for even a single word to slip out. You needed to tell him! What will he think, that you’re a thief?

“ Wait—“

“ How do you have that, that’s.. Wait. ”

He crosses his arms, tapping his index against his bicep as he circles around you. Donnie stops in front of you, hums something mid-thought, then cracks a smile.

“ Ah, I get it now. How clever you are, my dear. ”

“ What? ”

You hesitate as he closes the gap between you both. His face softens as his hands make quick work of sliding your broken mask off. Without needing to explain a word, it seems he made quick work of who you were.

“ So this is what you’ve been up to.. Why? ”

His hand caresses your cheek.

“ I… Wanted to get back at the Purple Dragons—for you.. ”

Donnie cracks a bigger grin and chuckles, leaning a bit to plant a chaste kiss on your lips.

“ We can discuss this when we get home, then. ”

[qfitpac]

Final thoughts on the Qsmp finale: I think it was incredibly disappointing and disrespectful at every turn, and as with many things in the qsmp I think they could have put in 100x less effort for 100x more reward.

I wish they had just let the islanders freely roam around and say goodbye to their old builds instead of forcing them into a weird and unrelated mini game. For gods sake, Pac and Fit never made it to Chume Labs to see it one last time.

The museum was nice but how about crediting all the people who made those models and assets that were on display? Contrasted with the properly credited fanart it really showed how little the studio values its workers.

It's clear to me that they cared more about getting in that final spectacle (I think there's a good chance a lot of those assets and mobs were originally made for purgatory 3) and leaving the story open for a possible QSMP 2 than actually giving their ccs a chance to give their characters an ending. Watching it all I couldn't help thinking, was the person who built this paid? Was this cinematic made by someone who was compensated for their time? Did the studio give them enough time to make these or was it, as shown before, a rushed and stressful process with an impossible deadline?

The egg video in particular was in incredibly poor taste. After all that the egg admins went through, letting them go without even a thank you let alone actually properly crediting them and paying them, then to just choose their ending for them? Using not just the models (was the person who made those paid?) but aspects of the personalities that the egg admins developed (Ramon's meathead, pepitos plushie, etc)? Come on.

The finale was, and I say this with all possible negative connotations, very in character for a studio that has repeatedly shown that it cares more about visuals and the next big thing than anything else, including the admins and ccs that make it possible. It was flat and convoluted and the only thing that made it watchable was as always the talent and versatility of the players.

I hope there is no qsmp 2. I really do. I don't think it's worth it to keep this brand alive after all the people who have been hurt by it. I'd love to see another server use the real-time translation mod, I'd love to see most of this group of creators make something together, but I don't think it should be under quackity or his studio's control. They've clearly shown that they cannot be trusted to treat their workers properly, to support this big of a project, or to be focused on making a place for creators to tell their own stories the way they want to.

[mareagirls]

OK this just hit me and if i wrote for joel id have a blast with this BUT

what if r and joel were out on a job somewhere or going to his storehouse outside the qz and instead of ellie being bitten and immune it’s r!!!!! the drama when she doesnt turn

LOL not me acting like you didn’t send me this request over a year ago, i’m so sorry it’s so late 😭 i hope you like it sweetheart. I’ll come back and check this for typos later!

> established relationship, established family dynamic, protective!joel, sad joel, sad ellie but she tries to hide it, sad reader but there is fluff and comfort and the end i promise

tws: reader asks joel to kill her (i'm not sure if this should be a tw but just incase!

I believe unconditionally in a free Palestine, and am aware that one of the creators of TLOU is a zionist. i do not support this and strongly encourage anyone reading this to engage with the link below!

how you can help Palestine

-

There’s a clicker snapping and snarling above you. You bring your arms up to keep it away from your face as you try to shove it off. Joel won't take the shot, you think, not when there’s a risk of hitting you.

With a final push of adrenaline, you manage to kick it up so it’s further off you. You scream out for Joel then, strangled.

“Fuck- Joel!"

The rippling bang of a gunshot pierces the air.

The thing on top of you goes slack, features still contorted in a gruesome snarl. You shove it off and scramble away, standing up as soon as you’ve put enough distance between you. Silence returns to the forest.

When you look up, you don’t find the relieved looks you’re expecting from either of your companions. Joel is looking at you, horror painted across his features as he stares at your arm.

You follow his gaze down.

Blood is leaking out of a clear bite mark just above your wrist. Your shirt and skin are shredded where the things teeth ripped into you. Red coats your hand, dripping thickly onto the ground.

Your legs go weak at the sight.

"Shit- shit, Y/N-" Ellie is panicking. She’s closer by, arms reaching out for you. You take a half step back, unwilling to let her get nearer, and her head snaps up. "It got you."

You all know what this means. It’s a death sentence. A promise that even if you’re not dead now, you will be very soon.

You look at Ellie with a wobbly smile that you know won't do much to placate her panic. She looks like she might cry and behind her, Joel has gone rigid - eyes wide, hands in tight fists by his sides. You don't know what's worse.

"It's alright, Ellie, sweetheart," you focus on trying to calm the girl down first. “It's okay. It's alright. You have to leave me here."

Before Ellie can retort, Joel stiffens.

"No- no." He collects himself, rolling his shoulders slowly as if to shake off the stupor. “That is out of the question.”

You think to yourself that denial looks devastating on him.

"Joel," his name is a broken supplication on your lips. "You need to take Ellie and get back to Jackson. She needs to be safe."

It’s low, reminding him of how dangerous the world is in an effort to make him focus, but Joel cares about keeping you and Ellie safe above anything else. Reiterating that he can’t protect everyone might hurt him, but it’ll keep them both alive long enough to forgive you.

You're shaking, you realise then. Tremors wracking your body as the adrenaline of the fight dissipates and leaves horror in it's wake. You glance at the bite again and a low wounded noise escapes you.

Joel steps forward, arms reaching out to comfort you instinctively, and you take two back, doing your best to avoid the hurt that flashes in his eyes. His voice is ragged when he next speaks, and Joel Miller has never been one to beg, but right now he’s sounding awfully close.

“Let us stay with you."

“The bite is in your arm, right?" Ellie regards you carefully. "You still have a few hours left. We can keep you company."

Shaking your head, you step further away.

"I don't want you to see me turn into one of those things."

“We’ll kill you before you get to that point.”

Ellie speaks matter of factly, but you don’t miss the way her hands flit anxiously at her sides. She’s tough, your girl, but you and Joel both know her tells better than you know yourselves. Behind all the snark and self assuredness, she’s a kid. You wont force her to watch another person she cares about succumb to cordyceps.

“Ellie,” you try to reason. “I don't want you to see me like that.”

You turn to Joel, expecting agreement, but he’s wiped his face clear of any emotion, inscrutable - you cant read him at all. He's putting his walls up, brick by brick in an attempt to hide how he feels. You don't blame him - you think you'd do the same were your roles reversed.

“We’ll stay with you, Y/N.” His runs a tired hand over his beard. “No infected or people 'round here for miles. We can set up camp. When the time comes...”

He trails off, like he can't bring himself to say the words.

And that's that.

-

Night falls.

Joel ties you up to a tree as a safety precaution, grunting a soft apology when he pulls the rope across your chest too tight and you wince.

Despite your protests, he bandages the bite, careful motions and gentle hands. He thumbs over it when he’s finished, more out of habit than reassurance. You doubt he even realises.

Ellie tries to crack some jokes, doing her best to alleviate the mood. You offer her a halfhearted smile in return but you can tell she's not convinced by it.

It all feels overwhelmingly pointless. Joel will have to kill you soon, and if he can’t, you’ll do it yourself. He's only delaying the inevitable by keeping you alive. When you try to tell him so - try to make it clear that he's just putting himself and Ellie in danger - the man’s shoulders go tight and he turns away from you.

You don't try to dissuade him again.

Now, Ellie is reading her comic by the gas lamp, eyes flickering to you every so often. You twist your body away from her as much as you can and stare into the dark of the woods. You don't want to risk her seeing you get sick. You want her to remember you healthy, smiling - not overcome by the infection.

Joel comes over to you with your water flask in hand and you shake your head. You shouldn't use up resources when you'll be dead soon. When you tell him as much, the man bites his lip but stays quiet. He doesn’t question you though - water is a valuable resource. He knows that just as well as you do.

"Shoot me the moment I start to turn." You murmur, quietly so that Ellie won’t hear you. Joel looks down at you, ashen. Some of the barriers that he’s put up since you were bitten fall away - you see glimpses of the Joel you know inside.

He’s afraid. Devastated. Doing his hardest to keep it together for you and Ellie.

"Y/N-"

"Promise me, Joel. Promise me you'll shoot me."

He swears it, and the words hang stagnant in the air between you.

You thank him before turning away again, raising your voice a little so that Ellie can hear you too when you next speak.

"Goodnight."

I love you both so much. I'm so honoured I got to love you. I'm sorry we didn't get more time. Keep eachother safe. I love you. I love you. I love you. I'm sorry.

It's easier than saying goodbye.

-

You wake with a start to the feeling of someone tapping your cheek.

It’s still dark, the gas lamp casting long and shifting shadows on the small clearing where you've set up camp, but all you can think about is the fact that someone is touching you.

Flinching back with a gasp, you snatch your bitten arm to your chest. Your eyes take a moment to adjust to what's around you.

Ellie and Joel are kneeling by your side, the latter's hands raised as to not spook you. You blink up at them, not understanding. When Joel tries to get closer, you curl in on yourself, the back of your head clipping against the tree and causing you to wince.

"It's alright,” Joel’s saying. “The infection didn't take. You're alright."

You can barely understand him past the rushing in your ears, still focused on the lingering feeling of his rough fingertips on your face.

"Why would you- Fuck, Joel. I'm fucking infected! Why would you touch me? " You're panicking, gasping between words. All you can think of is that Joel touched you and he could get infected too now and Ellie will be alone if you both get sick. She'll have to kill you both.

Joel looks like he wants to get closer, but when he tries, you make yourself as small as possible- knees up against your chest.

"Please, Joel- I don't want to hurt you."

The man shakes his head but doesn't try to come closer again. "You won't. You won't."

"You're still alright, Y/N," Ellie is kneeling on the other side of you. She picks up your injured arm and tugs off the bandage before you can stop her. "Look," she urges. "The infection hasn't taken."

Sure enough, the bite mark is still there, - angry and red and crusted with blood, but there aren’t any purpling veins expanding from it. No greenish hue indicating infection.

This is a trick, you think then. A cruel trick your mind is playing on you in your last moments of clarity. A sick manifestation of your survival instinct begging you to not lose hope.

“You’re not feverish,” Ellie continues. “You’re not coughing or vomiting.”

When you look back at Joel, he looks so convinced - more hopeful than you've ever seen him in the time you've known each other. Nothing else has ever given him that expression. Not the Firefly's promises of revolution, not the prospect of a cure. Joel Miller's thought processes have always been grounded in reality - stoic, stony, calculating.

But right now it looks more like those of the countless QZ kids who get drawn into the Firefly's ranks every year on promises of a better future. You want him to snap out of it. Want to remind him that idealism can only bring trouble- he taught you that.

"The infection hasn't taken yet, Y/N." Ellie is still speaking, small hands gripping yours. "It should have by now. You're still alright. Maybe you're immune like me."

You fight the urge to believe her. "Maybe it's just taking longer to spread.”

"And why the fuck would it do that?" Joel snaps at you, breathing in deep when you flinch at his tone. He runs a hand through his greying hair.

"I'm sorry, I’m sorry. I just- think about it, darlin'," the pet name he usually only reserves for the moments you're alone slips out. "Ellie is right. It should have spread by now. It's been hours."

And you are thinking about it, you are, but you also don't want to hold onto foolish hopes. The likelihood of you and Ellie both being immune feels unfathomable.

“Don’t give me this, Joel,” you say, quiet.

“Don’t give you what? Hope?”

“You promised you’d shoot me!”

Your voice rises, and you realise then how hysterical you sound. Joel’s hand moves to his chest, like it’s physically hurting him to hear you speak like this.

“I promised I’d shoot you when the infection set in. It hasn’t.” His tone is clipped, even, but his expression is anything but.

“So you’re telling me that you’re going to be able to look me in the eyes and put a bullet through my eyes when it does? After you’ve worked yourself up into the idea that I might fucking survive this?”

Surprisingly, Ellie is the most level headed, interceding between the two of you.

She speaks quietly, evenly. “We should just wait a bit more.”

You try to intercede but she stops you.

“No, Y/N. You’re tied up and you’re not getting sick right now. We should wait a few more hours.”

“Ellie-"

“I won’t lose someone else if I don’t have to.”

Your shoulders sag under the weight of what she's saying. Ellie leaves no room for argument. She wraps a clean bandage around your wound and brushes her thumb over it the same way Joel did last night. They’re so alike without even realising it. You tell yourself that at least they’ll have eachother when you’re gone.

A tentative voice whispers inside your head;

If you’re gone.

-

By the evening of the next day, nothing has changed.

Joel and Ellie have barely left your side, the former only disappearing into the woods for a half hour before returning with a few dead rabbits.

"You should try eat something.”

You don’t have an appetite. Haven’t since you were bitten, but Joel and Ellie keep looking at you like you’ll keel over if you don’t eat, so once he’s skinned and cooked the meant, you take what is given to you.

Your companions seem to have taken this new change in their stride, Ellie especially has come to terms with the idea of you possibly being immune very rapidly, but it’s a lot to wrap your head around. You flinch away whenever they get too close, and when Joel tries to untie you, you don’t let him.

“Y/N.”

“Please don’t.”

He swallows hard but nods.

That night you fall asleep still tied up against the tree. You’re woken by nightmares of rotting flesh.

You don’t shut your eyes again after that.

-

It takes three more days for you to let Joel touch you.

You let him untie you on the second because you’re painfully aware that your little group needs to keep moving. You’re unsure about whether you’re still heading for the Fireflies or if Joel has changed route and is taking you all back to Jackson, but you keep your distance either way, choosing to walk a few meters behind them at all times. You keep talking to a minimum, too overwhelmed and exhausted to say anything. Between the two of them, they make up for your lack of sound. Ellie chatters a lot anyway, and Joel answers all her questions, humouring her every joke. He’s filling in gaps that you’d usually contribute in you realise. Sometimes, their voices even drown out the noise in your head. It’s a pleasant distraction.

The next time you set up camp, Ellie goes straight to sleep. Something in her seems to have relaxed since you haven’t become infected. Joel is sat nearby, having offered to take first watch. His features soften when he doesn't think anyone’s looking. A small smile tugging at his lips as Ellie snorts and mumbles something in her sleep.

When he notices you staring, he offers you a tired smile.

“You should get some rest, sweetheart.”

Nodding, you get into your sleeping bag. You’re still not sure what to say and do, but if Joel thinks anything of your apparent immunity, he hasn’t shown it. He’s probably trying to let you rationalise and make peace with what’s happened on your own before he or Ellie give their input.

You try to sleep, you really do. But every sound the forest makes has you flinching, peering into the darkness, shifting in your sleeping bag restlessly.

You don't know if it's the overwhelming stress of the last few days, or the exhaustion, or something else entirely, but once you've started to cry, you can't stop. You try valiantly to smother the sound by clamping your hand over you mouth, but Joel has always been far too attentive for your liking. When the second sob leaves you, you hear him walk over. He stops in front of you, taking in your form (curled up in your sleeping bag, hand pressed against your lips, tears streaming down your face) and a small breath escapes him.

"Oh, my girl."

Before you can apologise, Joel is crouching down in front of you.

"Can I hold you?" His palms are up, open. He doesn’t mean any harm. He won’t hurt you, he never has. More importantly, you won’t hurt him.

Part of you wants to say no - still not used to the idea of being immune - but his proximity makes your skin sting and ache for contact, you're hurting almost with the absence of touch. After days of sitting so far away from Joel and Ellie with nothing but your jacket around you, you give in to him.

"Please."

It's all it takes. One minute Joel is still staring at you like he doesn't want to scare you off, and the next, he's pulling you firmly to his chest, sleeping bag and all.

He smells like pine. Feels like safety. When he presses his lips to the crown of your head, your sobbing intensifies.

"That's it, honey. Let it out. You're safe."

His arms are crowding you, but it doesn't feel stifling. It feels like coming home.

You shudder in his hold. “I’m scared, Joel. I was really fucking scared.”

“I know, baby” he coos - softer than you’ve ever heard him. “S’okay. It’s been a scary few days, hm?”

Another great sob cracks through you and you nod as Joel’s large hand moves up over your back to cup your head carefully. He holds you like a babe, like you’re something worth saving, and if he's afraid of the fact that you were bitten, he doesn't show it.

“It’s alright, honey. You’re safe. I’m gonna keep us all safe.”

He rocks back and forth gently with you clasped to his chest.

"It was killin' me, y'know? Not bein' able to hold you. Comfort you.”

"I'm sorry."

"You don't gotta be sorry, sweetheart. Just know that we got you." He smatters more gentle kisses along your hairline. "Me, you, and Ellie. We're a team."

You nod, because you are a team. You have been for months now. You trust them to keep you safe.

“What are we- What ‘re we gonna do, Joel? The bite…”

Joel shushes you easily, shaking his head.

“That’s a problem for tomorrow. We’ll face it when the morning comes.”

You sink into his chest further, nodding.

“Thank you.”

Joel pulls away ever so slightly to look you in the eyes properly.

“Don’t gotta thank me, honey. Don’t ever gotta thank me for anything at all.”

You fall asleep like that; held to his chest like something worth protecting. That night, no nightmares come.

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

Hello are you still doing the SAGAU for reader gets mad and blowing up at people for certain characters? If you are can you do traveler or Lumine if you don’t want to do a general head cannon and fischl still? I’m so angry about how many NPC world quests that now seem like a pattern of traveler helps and then gets backstabbed and left to die and just really think those NPC need to under stand the gravity and anger of the players.

Hello, @celestialsiren! Yes, supposedly, I am still doing this series lol—I don't see why I should end it, seeing as there's always new characters that people request for. Ofc I'll do the Traveler!

Click Me For Part 1!

Click Me For Part 2!

Click Me For Part 3!

Reader Defending the Traveler! (Also No Vice Versa)

(Disclaimers: This May be OOC, And This Post Will Mainly be Using Lumine as "The Traveler." However, This Post Still Can Be Read as GN!Traveler or Aether.)

Lumine

To be frankly honest, I think you (the Reader) would feel pretty connected to Lumine. She's understanding, she's calm, and most importantly, she gets what it's like not to be from Teyvat. She's passed the celestial atlas to venture the world that is Teyvat, only to be prevented by the Unknown God.

Safe to say, you both were like two peas in a pod. And you were willing to travel with her and find her brother. Lumine gets you a lot, and you refuse any harm coming her way.

That includes verbal complaints. Like, honestly—Lumine's done so much for Teyvat for an outlander, and this is how they treat her?! You weren't having it.

So you planted your foot down, and boy, was your glare menacing. Your words were harsher than the blizzards of Dragonspine, and your glare was as menacing as the Dead Skeleton of Orobashi in Watatsumi Island.

Anyone who you deemed as enemy—in this situation, these good-for-nothing, took-for-granted gossipers—was paling at the seems of the Almighty Creator stomping their egos down. And, not gonna lie, Lumine kinda likes watching some of them. Some of the insults you used were actually used in other worlds—something only Lumine would know, but others didn't. It was kind of hilarious.

Alas, she can't have you go around and go all out all the time. Someone needs to make sure that the Creator doesn't try to decimate random folks, even if they are pretty infuriating.

"Your Grace." Lumine puts her hand on your shoulder. "Let's hurry up and finish this commission. We still need to get those rewards." You huff, but you let the insulters go, without a threatening note.

Yeah...she was not expecting to be an occurrence with so many other characters, but hey! Lumine's not gonna stop you :)

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: And we're done! Sorry if it's really low quality lol—I am so tired as I'm writing this :') I do hope you guys enjoyed it, though! Don't feel discouraged to keep sending me requests!

At this rate requests are probably the only thing that's keeping my blog alive. My blog is on constant life support LOL

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[luvtak]

corona borealis, lfx

✧ genre/tw rambly soul-crushing fluff, one sweet kiss!!, lovely as a pet-name, felix being an undeniably sweet bf like always and hearing a bedtime story <3 , largely unedited.

✧ w/c 952 <3

✧ a/n definitely not brought on by asea felix are you kidding... he's so lovely i just had to dawdle on about it somewhere so here you go! also, the thought of telling lix a bedtime story makes me wanna cry i hope i'm not alone. mwah!!

His arm is hot around you, keeping you safe from the scary silhouettes the shadows bring, and the night is breathing. A group of you had come to this little campground for a night away from the city lights, and while the two of you are alone you can still hear the rest of the boy’s nighttime sounds mixing in with crickets and critters. 

Your boyfriend stands beside you, listening intently as you tell him stories of the stars. Usually, these tales come from the comfort of your bed–rustling under covers and speaking into his mouth, sharing breath and love until you fall asleep, tracing false shapes in the plastic stars adorning your ceiling. But tonight, under the cover of a too cold darkness you tell him his bedtime stories beneath the sky. 

His face is tilted up, looking to see where your fingers are pointing, and the soft glint in his midnight eyes makes you pause. You’ve never known someone who looked so alive, someone with a sun for a soul. Felix has the brightest smile you’ve ever seen, alight with joy and senseless mischief–eyes wide with wonder at the constellations rising above him. 

Looking at him is dizzying; that feeling when you put your arms out and spin so fast you fall, a carousel going so round and round. You feel like flying, rising up like the moment Icarus’ wings took him up and away. 

Sometimes you wonder if it’s normal to feel like this… if everyone in love feels as though they are the creator, the inventor of such depraved desire and compassion for another. Surely, you must be the first–no one else had felt Felix’s fingertips on their skin or his lips sweetly drinking them in. How could someone say they’ve encountered a deeper love than this when your sweetheart is the embodiment of love, Venus as a boy. 

He turns to you in your moment of hesitation, smiling at you with all the care in the world. He loves you endlessly, burns for you and the soft caress of your affection. You can tell he doesn’t know why you stopped speaking, but he’s happy just the same–sharing your space and time, living in this moment with you. He remembers the first time you told him a story, speaking the words softly, he thinks he fell in love right there. 

“What’s that one?” he asks, catching your still raised hand in his own. 

“Oh, it's a crown, see?” you can see his eyes tracing the points, finding the shape that connects the points together. “It’s Ariadne’s wedding tiara, she was a princess of Crete who helped Theseus slay her brother the Minotaur Asterion. After they escaped the labyrinth, the prince left her on the Island of Naxos where she was found by Dionysus,” 

“He left her there?!” he gasps, your sweet boy forever confused by ill intentions, even in a story. 

“Yeah, he’s so lame, right? Anyway, after the God finds her on his island they fall in love and eventually marry… the crown was her wedding present, and after she died Dionysus flung it into the sky to honor her.”

Felix is quiet for a long time after this, inhaling the story with all the deference you deserve. After every narrative he takes his time to think about how he feels about it: the first time you finished a movie with him and he was quiet for fifteen minutes before he told you he liked it, he is like that now. Quietly staring at the sky, not ignoring you for his hand still made its path up and down your arm and you know if you called his name he’d answer, but you don’t want to interrupt his silent seeking. 

His life is noisy, spirited, and wonderful in all the ways a beautiful boy like him creates, your infatuation came in chaos–in mindless chatter and kitchen counter dance parties, but you fell in love in silence. In the moments when the world was quiet and all you could hear was his heartbeat, the drawling intake of his lungs filling and releasing. You adore his voice, but just existing with him, sharing the same air would be lovely enough for a lifetime. 

Finally, after minutes of staring ahead, he speaks–softly but with no less intensity, 

“If something were to happen to you I would make you into a constellation.” 

His eyes, bright with longing stare into yours, and you know he’s not being funny. He means it with all of him, means it with every atom of his being. 

Shocked and in love with him you laugh, bursting with fondness never hidden. “I love you too,” you say, for you know that's what he means. A love that spills from his veins whenever he thinks of you, so massive and consuming that the words aren’t enough. “I’d make a constellation for you too, it’d be the prettiest one in the whole sky.” 

When he moves closer to you, you can feel the smile radiating on his shadowed face–sweeping his grin over the plane of your cheekbones. Scorching your skin where his lips touch, a traveling forest fire of kisses. When his journey ends, sliding his mouth over yours the flames grow, getting taller and taller as his caress goes deeper. 

The night is chilly, but there is no need for a coat when his arms are around you–sweeping you into his embrace with only the stars to watch. 

“Lets go to bed, lovely” he muttered, breathing through open-mouthed kisses and shared smiles. Leading you to where your tent lies, to where stories and sleep await you–love and life and dreams filled with him, your constellation of a boy. 

© LUVTAK 2024

[lilybug-02]

The HK comic was very sweet and wholesome and I loved every second of reading it! :3

Also does Dewi give hornet back her thread? Im pretty sure she needs that for silksong when that eventually releases lol

Also to go off on an unrelated tangent/rant, people have been supposedly like up in arms about how "Silksong will never release!" and how "Its taking FORVEVER to come out!" But like.... First of all, its and indie studio. Secondly It was only announced in 2019, which, yeah, was 5 years ago, but with the way people were describing it I thought it was announced like way earlier. And hollow knight was released in 2017, but the way people talk about it makes me think its like a classic from early 2000's or something. Sure, its a good game, but why are people so stuck on the Silksong thing? Like at least you're pretty sure you're probably gonna get a full game when it releases. With other communities/fandoms you'd be lucky to get even an announcement. Like Deltarune for example. Not even Toby Fox was sure he was gonna be able to do it in the first place lol. And if you think 5 years is bad of a wait, imagine waiting for a new LITERALLY ANYTHING WHATSOEVER from Bethesda that isnt the 100th re-re-release gold ultra plus edition of fucking Skyrim again but now on the fucking smart watch or whatever. I'm 90% sure that most of Bethesda's existance as a company has been spent making something for Skyrim instead of working on anything new or original.

Sorry for the random rant btw

Anyways love your art, have a nice day, kay bye imma go die of awkwardness in the corner :)

First off thank you very very much. I am so glad to hear how much you like the Hollow Knight comic. And to answer your question, Hornet allowed Dewi to keep that thread. She gave it to him as a peace offering for helping the bugs get back home and to lead Dewi through the maze like cave. Don't worry, she has PLENTY of thread back in Hallownest.

And regarding the impatience of Silksong. I get it. I am the very lucky few to get into the game NOW. I haven't had to wait as long as the many other people waiting for Silksong to release, and in that regard I am quite spoiled. Yeah, Deltarune won't fully release in at least another 5 years, but I wouldn't want to say I'm morally better for my "patience". Waiting for a game or any kind of media SUCKS. The fandom keeps it alive, but even those can grow stagnant. As long as you aren't harassing the creators or fans of the project, you can be as angry or frustrated or sad as you want. I think it's normal and can help others feel less alone in their feelings as well.

Not to say your points of contention above aren't relevant!!! Patience and kindness are always important to keep in mind with artistic projects. Art is HARD and can be very taxing. I hope I'm not dampening your message. ❤️ Thanks for sharing

[mushyposts]

WOAH! THE CREW???? THE CREW FROM HIT FANFICTION NO THING DEFINES A MAN LIKE LOVE??? WOAH WOAH WOAH??? Anyway yes omg its them!!! This took me so long and im so tired but look at my ANGELS!

UM! Friendly reminder that I myself am not Inuit/Indigenous! I did research + had an Indigenous person helping me w the tattoos, but if theres anything wrong/disrespectful pls do let me know and I will fix it. All the tattoos r on a seperate layer so it'll be an easy fix and one i am more then happy to do. A few of the designs changed between this and my written description, so... Oops?? Especially Morqa. I got carried away ok.... ANYWAY I have some little notes abt their designs here and there so! Kaiqa: He used to have shorter bangs around his face but they annoyed him so he tried to let them grow out but that annoyed him so he would cut them again and then try to let them grow out and now he just has perpetual baby hairs that wont get any longer. Mikla: UM. Not much to say here. Isnt he pretty tho?? Buteq: SOMEHOW ENDED UP THE MOST MAJESTIC MAN EVER. HELLO?? The two beads on the right are for his nieces and the one on the left is for his sister! Neter: One time he got super cocky abt being 7 years older then Nitya which meant he was a better fighter and so Nitya was like "yeah?? ok bet." and then punched him and broke his nose and was like "hm where are those warrior reflexes?" so now Neter has a permanently bent nose. Sorqai: He got the scar thats through his beard in the same raid that cause Nitya and Konait (Kaiqas older brother) to die. Nitya died trying to get Konait and some other kids out of the mess, and Sorqai got injured trying to get to them to help. He's mostly numb on that side of his face due to nerve damage ! Causes him to lisp a bit, especially w the chipped tooth (which he got from tripping) Natai: He wears both his own and Nitya's necklaces their parents made them, and intends to only take of Nitya's and let it go into the ocean where he was buried when the war is over. His own way of keeping Nitya involved in the war effort, something that was really important to him. Kutai: Again, no real notes here but isnt he pretttyyy..... Kovak: Honestly, very likely one of my favourite character designs I've ever made. Im kind of obsessed with him. He doesnt wear his necklace from his parents because he wasnt on good terms with them at all while they were alive. He took it off before they died, and hasnt been able to bring himself to put it back on. he intends to give it to his kid when he gets back. Mori: UM! I dont have a lot of notes here. Mori has two kids ! Hence the three tattoos under their chin, I saw an inuit creator/source say that sometimes people will add lines as they have kids and I thought that was really lovely so yes!! Again im just. I think hes so pretty. Luqait: Im so sorry king I did u dirty posting this after that one chapter. Each one of the beads he wears is dedicated to someone he knew in the tribe who died, theres more not visible on the other side of the braids. I can say for 100% certainty theres one for Kya and Nitya. Saila: Saila was actually a design i struggled a lot with, but I think I got them to a point im happy with!!! They're a good amount intense, androgynous and also have that amber flash in their eyes. The amber comes from having Fire Nation somewhere in their ancestry, something I dont think will really come up in the fic, but a detail I think is good to know! Morqa: I changed Morqa's design the most, especially his hair! But I think he's ended up being a design I am most proud of. The piercings especially!! Eventually u will run out of space (that we can see ig??) king but today is not that day godbless.

OKAY! THERE WE GO... I HOPE EVERYONE LIKES THEM UM PLS BE NICE AND DONT REPOST AND IDK JUST.... I HOPE U LIKE THEM AS MUCH AS I DO i know oc's in fics arent always peoples favourites but the reception of these guys has been like. Beyond mindblowing. Im so fucking excvited and happy everytime people in my comments talk about how much they love the characters i've created. Like.... The fact that people enjoy the OC's and not just for what the give to Zuko, but for what they give to each other and their own individual stories is so incredible to me. I hope u guys like this and I hope it helps u visualise them better!! : D

[canyouiimagine]

My favs

Y'all know I can be a little lazy so... I will be updating this in the next few days 👀 but I absolutely love these fics and I want to say a big thank you to the people that wrote them 🫶🏾🩶.

@non-stop-imagines

❤︎ Cute (CL16 x Black Fem Content Creator!Reader) In which Charles thinks you're really cute and it gets annoying. ❤︎ Repeat That | 0 | I.1 | I.2 (MV1 x Black Content Creator!Reader) ❤︎ Handled (DR3 x Black Actress!Reader) ❤︎ Calm Down (OP81 x Black Fem!Reader) Oscar has his own ways of calming his you down. ❤︎ Valentine (LN4 x Hamilton!Reader) In which Lando falls hard and you don't know what to do.

@serpenttines

❤︎ Clarity | II (CL16 x Black Mean Girl!Reader) Charles is a taken man, so when he starts having feeling for another woman things get complicated. especially since y/n isn't known for being the nicest person. ❤︎ Play To Win (ex!CL16, LH44 x Black!Reader) You don't know what game Charles was playing at, but you wanted needed to win. ❤︎ Call It Crazy | II (LH44 x ex Black!Reader) "you can say I'm crazy, if you want to that's true i'm crazy 'bout you" | "baby, when you finally, get to love somebody. guess what, It's gonna be me"

@saintslewis

❤︎ The Motherland (Platonic F1 Grid (not all) x Black Driver!Reader / LH44 x Black Driver!Reader) In which reader takes the f1 pilots to experience her culture and the beautiful country that is South Africa. ❤︎ Pink + White (CL16 x Black DJ!Reader) In which your relationship with Charles gets exposed so you decide to just hard launch. ❤︎ Get You (LN4 x Black!Reader) Joining a specific group of YouTubers on their channel wasn't something you'd envisioned for yourself but your friend, Ria, managed to get you into Quadrant. How Lando reacts is for you to keep reading 🤭 For OC readers: ❤︎ Renaissance (LH44 x fem!oc) The Browns and the Hamiltons have been neighbours for many years, Nadia and their oldest son, Lewis, not being as close as the families had hoped they would be. Years later, everyone drifts apart into different neighbourhoods, some others becoming one of the best drivers to ever grace the sport of Formula One however being a man of his stature, fame came along with it and so did the scandals. Can a fake marriage to a complete stranger help keep his image alive? let’s find out!

@thisismeracing

❤︎ King of manifesting (CL16 x Black Singer!Reader) You've been secretly dating Charles for a while, but fans can't believe it when the rumors start to go around. What do you mean a vroom-vroom Ferrari guy is dating their idol? ❤︎ All Because I Liked A Boy | II ( CL16 x Black Singer!Reader) Yn fell in love with Charles and secretly dated him for almost a year. She didn't consider, however, how fans would react seeing they used to love and still stan Charles' past relationship. What happens when their hidden love gets out in the open?

[stargazet]

rant incoming I AM TIRED OF YOU HOES BEING ALL "i wOULD give more comments but idk what to sayyyy🥺/my comments are just xy🥺🥺" HOW ABOUT YOU GO THINK OF A COMMENT OR JUST TYPE YOUR SILLY XY COMMENT ON 30 FICS WITH ONLY SLIGHT ALTERATION INSTEAD OF POSTING ABT HOW YOU ARE UNABLE TO COMMENT.

it pisses me off to no end that most readers need to be coddled and begged for just a SPECK of a reaction. You wanting to leave more kudos on a fic does NOT keep fandoms alive. your "i would comment but" does NOT keep fandoms alive!! you keep giving us excuses upon excuses as to why NONE OF YOU can type up 5 coherent words, but you want longfics and you want well-written fics and you want consistent updates on fics and PLEASE just keep bringing us the fics. I dont care anymore if you're shy or feel stupid, GUESS WHAT?? I'm putting my art, my soul, my joy out into the world for you to see and you think you can excuse your silence with being shy and scared uwu🥺🥺

You know what they tell every artist of any kind when they just started their craft and are not good at it??? To practice, that's right. So get your heads out of your lazy asses and practice. I don't care how many comments keep sounding similar, ao3 is not the mindhive of an individual, WE WILL NOT NOTICE IF YOU SAID THE SAME THING TO 5 DIFFERENT AUTHORS, BUT WE WERE ONE OF THOSE 5 AND WE WILL NOTICE THAT.

And if you hit me with the "But if it's from the same author-" well that's the perfect time to practice making different comments, isn't it?!

Yall get HUNDREDS of posts encouraging you to do this time and time again, even posts that TELL YOU WHAT TO COMMENT, do you realize how embarrassing that is for you as a readership??? Artists not just giving you the art but having to fucking teach you how to respond to that art?? can't you people do nothing but mindlessly consume?? We work our asses off FOR FREE, hoping to inspire others, wishing to connect with our art, our fics, and you are nothing but a void. A black hole. It's frankly not just so disheartening and frustrating, it's quite disgusting if you think about it. Am i just feeding a machine? You sorry lot of gawkers can't even say fucking "thank you for making this." the 5 coherent words in question.

I'm SO tired of seeing you bitches give me excuses and empty promises and SO tired of not even being heard when i yell and scream and shout like I do now. The commenters are keeping you husks and ghosts fed for now, but one after the other, your artists will get fed up or discouraged and they'll stop posting. If you only want fandoms with 3 big creators, then ig you'll get exactly that. I bet it will be fun and not at all stagnant or turn into a mini cult where one guy keeps shaping the collective! But I hope when this happens, and it will if yall don't change your approach real fucking quick, that you'll at least remember that you all snuffed your artists little lights out, one by one, with your haunting silence.

And now open ao3 and get your greasy fingers onto that comment section or so help me god

[danco110]

“…For the fourth time, you’re not getting replaced.”

“Just surpassed.”

Though the artificial angel had no eyes, its visor tilted down, giving it the appearance of staring skeptically at its creator. The artificer in question raised his goggles and gently clasped his creation’s hand. Its platinum casing was cold to the touch, but its small movements and mannerisms looked completely natural - and nervous.

“You’re not getting decommissioned. Over my dead body. And before you ask, you’re not getting fired, either. You will - if you wish - continue to work, helping people, just like you always have.”

The angel’s hand gave an extremely lifelike tremble. “But the way you describe this warrior. How could I ever hope to match her abilities?”

“‘Match’? This isn’t a-”

“I can’t believe it…It’s you!”

The angel and its inventor turned to face the voice. There, a seraph of flesh and blood and radiant armor hovered just off the ground. Her stoic expression lasted only a moment, before she broke into a wide grin at the sight of the two.

“…Hello-” greeted the inventor, only to be gently pushed aside by the new arrival.

“Oh, my apologies but…not you. You!”

“Me?”

The living angel’s eyes sparkled as she nodded. “Yes! I’m…sorry, it’s just, I’m such a huge fan! I learned all about protection magic from you! Followed all your work, keeping people alive. You got me into…well, not this line of work, but-”

The artificial angel held up a hand to stop her. “Wait. You know me?”

“Of course I do! You’re my hero! And, I know I’m inexperienced. But I work hard and learn fast. But…” The angel hung her head. “I understand if I don’t meet your standards.”

The machine looked over its living counterpart’s shoulder. There it saw its creator, giving it an encouraging thumbs-up.

“It would be an honor to work alongside you.”

“‘Alongside’? Not ‘over’?”

The platinum angel averted its gaze from its counterpart’s aura of blinding light.

“Definitely not.”

[I think I’ve asked this before, but how do you think older cards feel about getting power crept? What do their successors think about it?]

[brunchable]

Untamed Chaos [Request] || Doctor Strange x Scarlet Witch!reader.

Genre: Oneshot, Light-hearted romance, Teacher/Student Words: 5.4K The Request: a fanfic where the reader is Scarlet Witch and she is very insecure and afraid of her powers and Stephen Strange helps her control her powers. A/N: First request in such a long time. I mayhaps liked this idea a bit too much I got carried away but I hope it can make someone's day. Thank you to the GIF creator. For @honeymoon-salvatore

You've always been afraid of your powers. They are immense, unpredictable, and often seem to have a will of their own. It wasn't until the incident in your hometown that you truly understood the magnitude of your abilities. 

You had only meant to defend yourself, but in the blink of an eye, the entire street had been engulfed in a swirling vortex of energy, leaving destruction in its wake. The fear and confusion in the eyes of those around you still haunt your dreams.

Since then, you've kept your distance from people, isolating yourself to prevent any further harm. Your powers feel like a ticking time bomb, always on the verge of exploding. 

You can't control them, not fully, and the unpredictability is what scares you the most. One moment, you could be sitting peacefully, and the next, you could be unintentionally causing objects to levitate or shatter around you.

You've tried to manage them on your own, practicing in secret, but the progress has been slow and often discouraging. Each failed attempt chips away at your confidence, leaving you feeling more vulnerable and isolated. The frustration builds within you, feeding into the fear, creating a vicious cycle that's hard to break.

You often find yourself alone, both physically and emotionally. The isolation is a double-edged sword; it keeps others safe from your powers, but it also leaves you without support, without someone to reassure you that you're not a monster. You yearn for connection, for someone to understand your struggle, but the risk of hurting someone is too great. The potential destruction you could cause keeps you at a distance, even from those you care about the most.

In moments of despair, you imagine a life where your powers are not a curse but a gift, where you can use them without fear. But those are just dreams, far removed from your current reality. Every day is a battle against yourself, against the fear that one wrong move could lead to disaster. You live with the constant reminder that you are different, that you are dangerous, and that there might never be a place for you in the world as you are.

Despite the fear and the isolation, there's a flicker of hope within you. A hope that maybe, just maybe, someone out there can help you. Someone who understands what it's like to wield such power and can guide you in controlling it. This hope leads you to the doors of the Sanctum Sanctorum, but standing there, you hesitate. Your hand hovers over the grand door, and a wave of shame washes over you. What if Doctor Strange sees you as a lost cause? What if he thinks you're too dangerous to be helped?

× × × × 

As you approach the grand doors, your heart races with anticipation. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself before knocking firmly. The sound echoes in the silence, and the massive doors creak open seemingly on their own, revealing the grand entrance hall bathed in dim, mystical light.

At the top of the sweeping staircase, Stephen stands tall, his presence commanding and imposing. His cape flows dramatically behind him, catching the light in a way that makes it seem almost alive.

“Ah, I’ve been expecting you,” he says with a knowing smile.

“Expecting me?” you ask, chuckling sheepishly. You can’t shake the feeling of shame that lingers, making you want to shrink away.

“Yes. I could sense your presence,” he replies, descending the stairs. “And besides, you’re not exactly subtle.”

You manage a small, nervous laugh, looking down at your feet. “I actually came to ask for your help, Doctor Strange. My powers… they’re out of control. I-I don’t know how to handle them.”

“Hmm.” Stephen nods, his expression turning serious but not unkind. “Come with me. Let’s see what we can do.”

As he turns to lead you deeper into the Sanctum, you can't help but blurt out, “Are we starting already?”

Stephen glances back at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No, we're going to have a tea party first. What do you think?”

You roll your eyes but feel a bit of the tension ease away. “Very funny.”

“I thought so,” he replies with a smirk, leading you to the doors that lead to Kamar-Taj.

The morning air at Kamar-Taj is crisp and fresh, the early sunlight casting a warm glow over the ancient courtyard. Birds chirp in the distance as you and Stephen stand in the center of the tranquil space.

“First things first,” he says, “Do you know the true nature of your powers?”

You nod, feeling a familiar weight settle on your shoulders. “I know. But I don’t know how to control them. It’s like trying to tame a storm.”

He nods, seeming to have expected that answer. “Your powers are unlike any other. They’re rooted in something very ancient and very potent—chaos magic.”

“How do I control something that’s inherently chaotic?” You sigh, looking down at your hands, a flicker of crimson energy dancing across your fingertips. 

“By understanding it, accepting it, and learning to channel it. It’s not about suppressing your emotions, but rather, learning to use them to your advantage.” Stephen steps closer, his voice gentle but firm.

“That’s easier said than done.” You scoff, frustration coloring your voice.

Stephen raises an eyebrow. “Is it? Or are you just making excuses?”

You glare at him, but there is no malice in your eyes. “You’re really good at this comforting thing, aren’t you?”

"I try," he says with a smirk, “Look Y/N you came here asking for my help. I know the media doesn’t really paint you. . . gracefully. So, from now on try not to let your self-doubt eat you up.”

You look down. Even though that was a hard pill to swallow, he was right.

“Come with me.” He leads you to a secluded area of the courtyard, where ancient runes are etched into the stone floor. 

“This area should have ample space to practice powerful magic. It will be a safe place for you to practice control.”

You nod, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. 

“First, we’ll start with some basic exercises. Focus on your breathing, and let your mind clear. Feel the energy within you, but don’t try to control it yet—just observe.” Stephen begins to demonstrate, weaving his hands through the air, creating intricate patterns of golden light. 

You close your eyes, following his instructions. You can feel the familiar hum of your powers beneath your skin, a constant presence that you're trying to grow accustomed to. Slowly, you begin to breathe in rhythm with the energy, letting it flow through you without trying to shape it.

“Good, you learn quickly.” Stephen’s voice breaks through your concentration. “Now, open your eyes and focus on a single point in front of you. Imagine your energy flowing towards that point, like a stream of water.”

You do as he says, but suddenly, a surge of power rushes through you, causing your body to twitch while you attempt to contain it. Your eyes snap open in panic. Your powers spiral out of control. Crimson energy begins to swirl around you, leaves and dust spiraling  around leaving you at its center. The ground trembles, and a strong wind whips through the trees around you.

"Dammit!" you shout, sinking to your knees as you try to contain the chaos. "I can’t do this, Doctor. It’s too much."

Before you can even process what's happening, Stephen is already moving, his hands weaving complex patterns in the air. Golden bands of light appear, encircling the wild energy and containing it. Sweat beads on his forehead from the effort, but his eyes remain focused and determined.

“Stay with me, Y/N,” he calls out, his voice straining as he tries to contain your powers. “You can do this. Focus on my voice.”

You try to calm your racing heart, taking deep breaths as you attempt to regain control. The golden bands tighten around the chaotic energy, slowly but surely bringing it under control. 

Finally, the room falls silent, the wild energy dissipating into the air. Stephen kneels beside you, his hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he says softly. “It’s okay to struggle. You’re learning, and that takes time.”

You look up at him, your eyes glistening, “What if I hurt someone? What if I hurt you in the process?”

“You won’t,” he assures you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “Relax, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m sorry, Stephen. It just… it just got away from me.”

He smiles reassuringly. “It’s all part of the process. Let’s try again.”

You picture the crimson energy within you, flowing outwards in a controlled stream. To your surprise, the energy responds, a thin tendril of red mist extending from your hand and touching the ground where you’re looking.

“Excellent. Now, try to maintain that flow, but gradually increase the intensity.” Stephen smiles, clearly pleased with your progress.

You concentrate, feeling the energy surge within you. The tendril of light thickens, glowing brighter as more power flows through it. You can feel the wildness of the chaos magic, but it no longer feels overwhelming—it’s like riding a powerful wave, guiding it with subtle movements.

“Remember, your emotions are your fuel,” Stephen reminds you. “Channel your focus, your determination, and your control into the magic.”

You nod, feeling a growing confidence. The energy flows more smoothly now, the thread of light dancing in intricate patterns at your command. It’s exhilarating, feeling the power within you and knowing that you’re in control.

“Alright,” Stephen says, taking a step back, his expression serious. “Now, let’s test your control under pressure. I’ll create some moving targets, and I want you to hit them with precise bursts of energy.”

He raises his hands, and several glowing orbs appear, floating in a precise formation. They begin to move, weaving through the air in unpredictable patterns. “Focus, Y/N. Use your emotions to guide your power.”

You take a deep breath, focusing on the first target. You extend your hand, and a tendril of crimson light shoots out, striking the orb dead center. It shatters in a burst of golden sparks.

Stephen nods approvingly. “Good. Now, try the next one.”

You move to the second target, feeling a surge of confidence. This time, you channel a stronger burst of energy, the crimson light brighter and more intense. The orb explodes, scattering shards of light in all directions.

As you continue, the targets move faster, their patterns more erratic. You struggle to keep up, the energy within you becoming harder to control. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your breath comes in shallow gasps.

“Stay focused,” Stephen encourages.

But the pressure mounts, and the chaos magic within you begins to surge again. One of the targets moves unexpectedly close to Stephen, and in a moment of panic, you release a powerful burst of energy.

The crimson tendril lashes out, striking Stephen’s arm before you can stop it. He stumbles back, a pained expression crossing his face as blood begins to seep from a cut on his arm.

“Oh my god, Stephen!” you cry out his name accidentally, rushing to his side. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—”

“Don't. It was an accident.” He grits his teeth, his hand applying pressure to the wound.

You remained quiet, even though guilt is a close friend of yours, it still felt corrosive. 

× × ×

The morning training session had taken a turn you hadn’t anticipated. Now, sitting in the quiet, dimly lit infirmary at Kamar-Taj, the reality of your lack of control weighs heavily on you. Stephen sits on a low bench, his shirt discarded to reveal a nasty gash on his arm, inflicted by your uncontrolled magic. 

His Cloak of Levitation hovers nearby, holding the first aid kit with its hem, seeming to watch over him protectively.

“Let’s get this cleaned up,” Stephen says, his voice smooth despite the pain. He gestures to the hovering Cloak, which gently extends the first aid kit towards you. “Can you take the antiseptic and bandages?”

You quickly reach for the items, your hands shaking slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Y/N, it’s okay,” he interrupts gently, a small smile playing on his lips despite the grimace of pain.

“Let me help.” You kneel beside him, the sight of the deep cut making your stomach churn. The Cloak hovers closer, as if wanting to assist but unsure how. Stephen takes the antiseptic from you, but you gently place your hand over his. 

He nods, relinquishing the bottle. 

You pour the antiseptic onto a cloth and carefully dab it on the wound. Stephen hisses, his muscles tensing under your touch. His skin is warm, the contours of his body highlighted in the soft light of the infirmary. You try to focus on the task at hand, but it’s hard not to notice how close you are, how vulnerable he seems.

“Sorry,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

He reaches out with his uninjured hand, gently tilting your chin up so you meet his eyes. “Y/N, it was an accident. I know you wouldn't mean to hurt me.”

You nod, feeling a bit more at ease with his reassurance. Carefully, you finish cleaning the wound and reach for the bandages. The Cloak, as if sensing your need, floats closer, offering the bandages to you from its folds.

As you wrap the bandage around his arm, you can’t help but ask, “Does it hurt a lot?”

“I’ve had worse. Much worse.”

You can’t help but smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Well, you’re lucky I didn’t turn you into a frog or something.”

Stephen laughs, the sound filling the small infirmary. “I think I'd rather handle a few cuts and bruises. But I appreciate the concern.”

“There. All done.” You finish wrapping the bandage and tie it off, your fingers lingering on his skin for a moment longer than necessary. 

Stephen flexes his arm slightly, testing the bandage, “Now I have a new scar to show off. Women dig scars, right?”

“Well, it certainly adds to your mystique.” You laugh, the sound a bit shaky but genuine. 

He chuckles, standing up and pulling you to your feet with his good arm, “Go get some rest and clear your mind. Don't wallow too much on this. Really, I'm fine.”

× × × × 

The days turn into weeks. You find yourself growing more confident in your abilities, but there are still moments where the fear and frustration overwhelm you. Stephen’s consistent support and guidance have been invaluable, and you've begun to see glimpses of what your powers could be if fully controlled. However, the road to mastery is far from smooth.

One afternoon, while practicing a particularly challenging spell, your powers spiral out of control. The room around you blurs as a surge of energy erupts from within, sending you flying across the room. You crash into a stone wall with a sickening thud, the impact knocking the wind out of you. Pain radiates from your shoulder as you realize it’s dislocated. Before you can even catch your breath, you hear a creaking sound above you and look up to see a massive pillar beginning to topple over.

Panic courses through you, but before you can react, a burst of golden light encases the pillar, stopping it mid-fall. You turn to see Stephen, his hands outstretched and eyes glowing with a focused intensity as he uses his magic to stabilize the structure.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice steady despite the obvious strain.

You nod, still dazed from the impact. “I... I think so,” you stammer, though the pain in your shoulder is excruciating.

He waves his hands, and the pillar rights itself, settling back into place with a groan of stone against stone. Only then does he turn his full attention to you, his expression softening as he kneels beside you.

“You scared the hell out of me,” he admits, “Let me see your shoulder.”

You wince as he gently examines it. “I think it’s dislocated,” you say through gritted teeth.

Stephen nods, his expression serious. “We need to fix this. It’s going to hurt, but I’ll make it as quick as possible.”

You brace yourself, biting your lip as he carefully but firmly maneuvers your shoulder back into place. A sharp, intense pain shoots through you, and you can’t help but cry out. But just as quickly as the pain flares, it begins to subside as Stephen’s magic soothes the injured area.

"Better?" he asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, tears of pain and relief streaming down your face. "Thank you," you whisper, leaning against him for support.

Stephen clenched his jaw when he suddenly felt his heart racing. He wraps his arms around you, holding you close. “You’re incredibly brave, you know that?”

You manage a small, shaky laugh. “I don’t feel very brave.”

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression earnest. “You are. You’re facing your fears and pushing through the pain. That takes real courage.”

“I couldn’t do this without you, Stephen.” Tears well up in your eyes again, this time from gratitude and the overwhelming emotion of the moment, “Thank you.”

He smiles softly, brushing a tear from your cheek. “You’re not alone. We’ll get you there.”

After that grueling session, you collapse onto a sofa in the library, exhausted. It was worth every sweat though as you felt being more in control compared to when you first set foot in the Sanctum. 

“Here, this will help,” Stephen joins you, handing you a cup of tea and sitting down beside you.

You take a sip, the warmth of the tea soothing your frayed nerves. “Thanks,” you murmur, glancing at him. “For everything.”

He smiles, his gaze warm. “It’s my pleasure.”

A comfortable silence settles between you, the flickering firelight casting soft shadows around the room. The warmth from the fire is a stark contrast to the chill in the air outside, and you pull a blanket tighter around yourself as you sip the tea Stephen prepared. The aroma of the tea mingles with the scent of old books and the faint trace of incense, creating an atmosphere that feels both intimate and soothing.

You find yourself drawn to Stephen, not just because of his wisdom and strength, but because of the kindness and patience he shows you every day. His presence has become a source of comfort, a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of your emotions and powers. Yet, as the days pass, you've also become acutely aware of the growing attraction you have for him. Maybe because you never knew about this side of Stephen.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, admiring the way the firelight dances across his features, casting shadows that highlight the sharp angles of his face. There's a certain grace to the way he moves, even in the simplest of actions like turning the pages of a book or adjusting his cloak. You wonder if he's aware of how often your eyes linger on him, how your heart races whenever he looks at you with those piercing blue eyes.

Stephen breaks the silence, his voice low and gentle. “You've been making remarkable progress. You should be proud of yourself.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. “I couldn't have done it without you,” you admit, your gaze meeting his. “You've been my rock through all of this.”

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I'm just doing what any decent teacher would do.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “It's more than that. You've been patient and understanding, even when I wanted to give up.”

Stephen's eyes soften, and he reaches out, placing a hand over yours. The touch is light, but it sends a jolt of electricity through you. 

“You have an incredible strength within you,” he says quietly. “Sometimes it just takes someone else to help you see it.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the intensity of his gaze making it hard to look away. You can feel the tension building between you, a magnetic pull that draws you closer. The room feels smaller, the air charged with unspoken emotions.

"Stephen," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, "I... I don't know how to thank you for everything you've done."

He smiles, a tender expression that makes your heart skip a beat. "You don't need to thank me," he replies. "Seeing you grow and gain confidence is thanks enough."

The fire crackles, filling the silence that stretches between you. You can feel your pulse quicken, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. You want to tell him how much he means to you, how his presence has become a source of light in your life. But the words stick in your throat, your nerves getting the better of you.

As if sensing your hesitation, Stephen moves closer, his hand still resting on yours. "It's okay," he murmurs. "You don't have to say anything."

You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating, but you felt him drawing closer to you, his breath heavy and hot. The space between you seemed to shrink with each passing second, your heart pounding louder in your ears. His eyes, intense and unwavering, locked onto yours, creating a magnetic pull that you couldn't resist.

Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions—anticipation, fear, desire—all blending into a heady mix that left you breathless. His presence was overwhelming, his scent intoxicating, and you felt an inexplicable connection that seemed to transcend the physical space.

Stephen’s hand brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. His touch was both gentle and commanding, grounding you in the moment. You could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes, mirroring your own. Despite the chaos surrounding you, this moment felt strangely right.

He leaned in, his lips just inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the tension building, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this suspended moment of longing and vulnerability.

Just as his lips were about to meet yours, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room. You both jumped apart, hearts racing, as Wong entered, his expression a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Wong said, raising an eyebrow. “But there’s an urgent matter that requires your attention, Strange.”

Stephen cleared his throat, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair, trying to regain his composure. “Of course, Wong. I’ll be right there.”

Wong nodded, glancing between the two of you with a knowing smile before leaving the room.

You exchanged a look with Stephen, the moment between you lingering in the air. He gave you a small, apologetic smile. 

“We’ll continue this later,” he promised, his voice soft and filled with a mix of regret and hope.

You nodded, your heart still pounding. “I’ll hold you to that.”

As Stephen turned to follow Wong, you couldn’t help but feel a mixture of excitement and apprehension. The connection you felt with him was undeniable, and despite the interruption, you knew that this was just the beginning of something deeper and more profound.

The door closed behind Stephen and Wong, and the room was left in a charged silence. You could still feel the lingering warmth of his presence, the ghost of his touch on your skin. Your mind replayed the moment over and over, heart racing of anticipation.

You sighed and turned towards the window, trying to steady your breath as you watched the city lights twinkle below. The weight of what had just happened, what almost happened, settled over you like a warm blanket. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once.

A few moments later, you decided to distract yourself by focusing on your training. You knew Stephen would handle whatever urgent matter Wong had brought to his attention, but you needed to regain your composure. The Sanctum's library was quiet and filled with ancient texts and artifacts, a perfect place to lose yourself in study.

You selected a tome on elemental magic, hoping the intricate spells would keep your mind occupied. As you read, the words began to blur, your thoughts drifting back to Stephen. His intense gaze, the way his touch had sent shivers down your spine, and the unspoken promise in his eyes.

Suddenly, a soft knock on the door brought you back to reality. You looked up to see Stephen standing there, his expression a mix of determination and something else—something softer.

“Hey,” he said, stepping into the room. “Sorry about earlier. Wong has impeccable timing, as usual.”

You chuckled, setting the book aside. “It's okay. I understand. Is everything alright?”

He nodded, taking a seat beside you. “Yes, just some minor mystical disturbance. Nothing we couldn't handle.”

A comfortable silence settled between you again, but this time it was tinged with a palpable tension. You could feel the unresolved moment hanging in the air, drawing you closer together. Stephen reached out, taking your hand in his. His touch was warm, reassuring.

“I meant what I said,” he began softly, his eyes locking onto yours. “About continuing this later. I don't want to rush things, but I also don't want to ignore what's happening between us.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words sending a rush of warmth through you. “I feel the same way, Stephen. It’s actually, kind of. . . really hard to ignore. . .”

Stephen stood and offered you his hand. “Come with me. There's something I want to show you.”

Curious, you took his hand and followed him through the winding corridors of the Sanctum. He led you to a secluded terrace, the city spread out below like a sea of stars. The cool night air was refreshing, and the view was breathtaking.

“This is my favorite spot,” he said, leaning against the railing. “It's where I come to think, to clear my mind.”

You joined him, the two of you standing side by side, looking out over the city. “It's beautiful,” you whispered.

He turned to you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. “You make it even more beautiful,” he said softly.

Before you can respond, he leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. The world around you seems to vanish as his lips move against yours, firm yet tender, igniting a fire within you. You respond eagerly, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, growing more urgent and intense. Stephen's arms wrap around your waist, drawing you flush against him, his body warm and solid against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off him, mingling with the crackling energy of your powers, which glow softly around you both, bathing you in a crimson light.

His lips part slightly, and you take the opportunity to explore his mouth with your tongue, eliciting a low groan from him that sends a shiver down your spine. Stephen's hands roam your back, his touch firm and possessive, as if he never wants to let you go. Every touch, every movement sends waves of desire coursing through you.

You press closer, the feeling of his body against yours heightening your senses. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair, pulling you even deeper into the kiss. The intensity builds, and you feel as though you might melt from the heat of it all.

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Stephen's lips trail down your jawline, planting soft, lingering kisses along the way. You tilt your head back, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage, his mouth finding the sensitive spot just below your ear. His warm breath against your skin sends a thrill through you, and you can't help but moan softly

“Stephen,” you whisper, your voice breathless and filled with longing.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he gazes at you. “Y/N, I need you,” he says, his voice rough with emotion.

Without another word, you pull him back to you, your lips crashing together in a passionate kiss. You pour all your pent-up emotions into it, the fear, the longing, the love. When you kiss Stephen, the energy around you seems to respond to your emotions, wrapping around the two of you in a protective cocoon of light. His hands grip your waist, and you feel the familiar surge of your powers, the crimson The light shimmers and sparkles, creating a captivating dance of colors that is reflecting the intensity of your connection.

Breathless and flushed, you finally pull away, resting your forehead against his. His eyes, dark and filled with emotion, hold your gaze, and you see your reflection in them, your powers glowing softly around you both.

“I'm so happy you came to me,” Stephen whispers, his voice low and sincere, “And now that I have you, I never want to let you go.”

You smile, feeling a warm sense of certainty. “You don't have to, l'm yours.”

He kisses you again, this time with a gentleness that speaks volumes. It's a promise of unwavering support and love. The crimson energy around you pulses gently, a testament to your newfound control and the harmony between your powers and your emotions.

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you realize that this is just the beginning. With Stephen’s guidance and your own growing confidence, you’re ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead. 

The night air is cool, but the warmth between you keeps the chill at bay. You lean into Stephen, your heart steady and sure. With him by your side, you know you can handle anything the future holds.

Stephen pulls back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You know,” he says with a smirk, “if you wanted to spend more time together, you could have just asked instead of throwing books around.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, so now my out-of-control powers are just an excuse to see you more?”

He raises an eyebrow, still smirking. “I wouldn't put it past you.”

“Well, maybe next time I'll aim for the kitchen. Then at least we can have snacks while we train.” You roll your eyes playfully. 

Stephen chuckles, pulling you closer. “Deal. But only if you promise to keep the chaos to a minimum.”

“I'll try,” you say, grinning. “But no promises.”

He smiles, his eyes softening. “That's good enough for me.”

Together, you step back into the Sanctum, ready to embrace the future and the challenges it brings, knowing that with each other, you are unstoppable. 

As you walk through the grand halls, Stephen's hand remains firmly in yours, a silent promise of support and partnership.

“So,” Stephen begins, glancing sideways at you with a sly smile, “what's the next item on our agenda? More power control exercises or should we finally tackle the mystery of the enchanted teapot?”

You laugh, the sound echoing softly in the spacious hallway. “I think the teapot can wait. Besides, I’m pretty sure it's been spying on us for weeks.”

“That would explain a lot. It's always the quiet ones you have to watch out for.” Stephen chuckles.

You squeeze his hand, feeling a sense of normalcy and contentment that you haven’t felt in a long time. “You know, this whole training thing isn’t so bad when you have good company.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Good company, huh? I suppose I should take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Doctor,” you tease, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “But seriously, thank you. For everything.”

Stephen stops walking and turns to face you, his expression sincere. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad I could help. You’ve shown incredible strength and courage, Y/N. And I’m honored to be part of your journey.”

A warmth spreads through you at his words, and you lean in to kiss him softly. “Well, you’re stuck with me now, Sorcerer Supreme. Hope you’re ready for that.”

He grins, a boyish charm lighting up his features. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”