#greasy noise | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itendtothinkalot · 3 months ago

Text

how to not fall in love

summary: you’ve been in love with heeseung for as long as you can remember, but to him, you’ve always just been the best friend—reliable, familiar, safe. so when you hear him say he doesn’t see you that way, you decide it’s time to stop. stop caring, stop hoping. but ignoring someone you’ve loved for years is harder than it sounds… especially when he starts acting like he doesn’t want you to stop.

genre: fluff | best friends to lovers

characters: best friend!heeseungx f!reader

words: 7.6k

warnings: none i think!

a/n: and here is my first enha fic!!!! <3<3 and yes heeseung is my bias

You don’t even remember when it started.

Maybe it was the first time Heeseung flashed you that ridiculously charming smile on your very first day of kindergarten—doe eyes, dimpled cheeks, and a shy little wave like he was offering you his entire heart with just a look.

Or maybe it was that time in middle school when he forgot there was a major history exam and you stayed up until 2 a.m. making color-coded flashcards for him, highlighters smudged on your fingers and worry tugging at your chest. He showed up the next morning at your door, hair a mess, holding a bag of greasy Chinese takeout and two cans of your favorite peach soda.

"Have I ever told you how much I love you?" he said, in that effortless, playful way of his, ruffling your hair like you were some helpful little puppy.

You laughed, but your heart did a triple somersault.

Love. He said it like it was casual.

Not knowing it felt like a confession to you.

Truth is, it only got worse from there.

Your unrequited love? It grew legs and started running wild.

You became that friend. The one in the front row of every basketball game, waving a glittery sign that said "LEE HEESEUNG" like your life depended on it. The one who always brought him coffee after his late-night study sessions, who memorized the snacks he liked at the convenience store, who texted him good luck before every presentation even though he always forgot yours.

And Heeseung would flash that same boyish grin—the one that made your knees a little weak—and casually sling an arm around your shoulders.

“Man, I don’t know who I am without you,” he’d say, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And you? You’d fall just a little harder.

Just a little. But it added up.

You didn’t mean for it to. You tried to keep your heart in check. But all those little things—the inside jokes, the shoulder bumps in the hallway, the way he said your name—slowly stitched themselves into something deeper. Something messier. Something real.

Heeseung never treated you like you were just anyone. That was the cruel part.

Like that time you got lost at one of his away games. You’d shown up early, too excited, only to realize you had no idea where to go. The school was huge, the gym impossible to find, and every hallway looked the same.

And then—there he was.

Heeseung, panting, scanning the sea of people until his eyes landed on you.

“There you are,” he breathed out, like he hadn’t just run halfway across campus. His brows furrowed like he was worried, and before you could say anything, he grabbed your wrist.

“C’mon,” he murmured, pulling you through the crowd like you were something precious he needed to protect. He didn’t let go—not even when the noise got louder or people jostled you. Somewhere along the way, he slid your bag off your shoulder and carried it himself.

He only let go once you were seated, right in the front row.

“There,” he said, still a little breathless. “Gotcha here safe and sound.”

Then he jogged off, leaving your heart pounding, your bag heavy in your lap, and a quiet kind of warmth blooming in your chest.

You found out later that he’d skipped the team’s pre-game drills just to look for you. As team captain, he was supposed to be rallying the others—but instead, he was making sure you weren’t lost.

Coach made him run three extra laps.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, guilt curling in your stomach.

Heeseung just laughed, brushing his damp hair back and flashing you that familiar grin. “It’s okay. I kinda liked looking for you.”

Moments like that—where he made you feel like the center of the universe—those were the hardest.

Because deep down, you always knew he didn’t see you the way you saw him.

The final straw came a few weeks later.

You’d been waiting by the bleachers again, holding his jacket like you always did, when you overheard Jake teasing him.

“She’s here again. You two are practically glued together. You sure you’re not… boinking?”

Heeseung laughed. “Boinking?”

Your heart fluttered. Just a little.

Then he said it. With zero hesitation.

“She’s cute. A great friend. But I don’t see her that way.”

Friend.

The word echoed in your head like a slap.

And just like that, something inside you snapped.

The next morning, you opened your journal, flipped to a blank page, and wrote in bold, all-caps letters:

HOW TO NOT FALL IN LOVE (feat. Lee Heeseung)

Goal: Stop giving a damn about Lee Heeseung. Duration: One month.

And for the first time in forever, you meant it.

Really, really meant it.

—

The next day at school, you walked through the gates with an air of fake confidence and a heart wrapped in duct tape. This was it. Day one.

No more overshooting your texts to Heeseung. No more waiting by the court with his water bottle. No more volunteering to help him with homework he didn’t even remember to start. He was perfectly capable of surviving without you.

Probably.

But the moment you saw him in the courtyard, laughing at something Jake said, your heart betrayed you.

Your hand lifted in an automatic wave before you even realized what you were doing. And—ugh—was that a smile forming?

You gasped like you'd caught yourself mid-crime and yanked your hand back down with enough force to nearly dislocate your shoulder. You spun around so fast your bag almost knocked over a freshman. You tried to act cool, casually pretending the ground was the most fascinating thing you'd ever seen.

Behind you, Heeseung paused, confused. He blinked. Tilted his head. Squinted at your retreating back like he was trying to solve a very strange math equation.

But then he shrugged it off. Probably nothing.

Probably.

Too bad he didn’t know this was just the beginning of the end.

—-

“This little tough girl act,” Sunghoon said with a smirk, reaching into your popcorn bucket like he had every right. “How long do you think it’s going to last?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, pulling the bucket closer. “Keep your hands out of my popcorn, you menace.”

Out on the court, Heeseung was practicing, all focused determination and smooth movements. You were trying—not entirely successfully—not to watch him. You’d even worn sunglasses. Indoors. As if they could protect your heart.

“Come on,” Sunghoon drawled. “Don’t pretend I didn’t see you freeze up this morning when he smiled at you like a puppy with a college degree.”

You exhaled sharply. “It was a momentary lapse in judgment.”

“Right. And I’m the Prime Minister of Canada.”

With a dramatic sigh, you leaned back against the bleachers. “I’m serious this time. One month. No more hopeless pining. No more letting him carry my bag like we’re a couple. No more doodling ‘Mr. and Mrs. Heeseung’ in the margins of my notebooks.”

“You still do that?”

“I–No.”

Sunghoon laughed under his breath.

You risked a glance at the court.

Mistake.

Heeseung dribbled the ball between his legs and sank a perfect shot, his lips tugging into that maddeningly confident smile, turning to you..

And, shamefully, you made a noise. A small, undignified sound that gave you away entirely.

Sunghoon gave you a long, knowing look. “You’re doomed.”

“I am not doomed,” you said, clutching your popcorn like a shield. “I’m just... recalibrating. This is emotional detox.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re detoxing the way someone digs a chocolate wrapper out of the trash.”

You groaned. “Why are you even here?”

“Free snacks. And the immense satisfaction of watching you pretend you’ve moved on.”

You stuffed a handful of popcorn in your mouth, avoiding his gaze. Because, regrettably, he wasn’t wrong.

And worse? You missed Heeseung. More than you cared to admit. Everything reminded you of him. A bouncing basketball. A laugh down the hallway. A lamppost that was, in your defense, approximately his height and general vibe.

This was going to be the longest month of your life.

—

Heeseung was starting to notice.

At first, it was little things. You stopped walking with him after class. You sat further away during lunch. You didn’t show up at practice with your usual energy, pretending to be absorbed in something else when he looked your way. It was subtle but to him, it felt like someone had lowered the volume on his favorite song.

He found himself scanning the bleachers more than usual, eyes flicking toward the spots where you usually sat, only to find them empty or occupied by someone else. You were still around, just... not with him.

Jake noticed first.

“You good?” he asked during water break, glancing at Heeseung who was frowning at his phone.

“Yeah,” Heeseung replied, not looking up. “I just... I don’t know. Have you talked to her lately?”

Jake raised a brow. “She was literally just at lunch.”

“She barely said a word to me.”

Jake took a long sip from his bottle. “Maybe she’s busy.”

Heeseung nodded, but it didn’t feel like busy. It felt like... distant. Like you were pulling away, and he didn’t know why.

He scrolled back through your messages. There weren’t any unread ones. Just a few recent texts from him that you’d responded to with short answers. No smiley faces. No exclamation marks. Just plain, flat replies.

And it bothered him more than he wanted to admit.

He was used to your messages being filled with too many emojis, random inside jokes, and links to memes you knew he’d find stupid but would laugh at anyway. You hadn’t even sent him your usual “good luck” before the last game.

Heeseung didn’t say anything out loud, but he could feel it—a little ache forming. Like something was shifting. Like something he’d taken for granted was slipping away.

And he didn’t know how to ask you why.

—

You were power-walking down the hallway like a woman on a mission—head high, steps brisk, thoughts screaming something along the lines of Do not look back. Do not turn around. You are ice. You are steel. You are—

“Hey!”

You nearly tripped over your own feet.

Heeseung.

You turned around slowly—casually, you hoped—and gave him what you prayed was a totally normal smile. Not awkward. Not panicked. Not like your internal monologue was screaming.

“Oh! Hi,” you said, like your voice hadn’t just jumped an octave.

He jogged the last few steps to reach you, a little out of breath, but still managing that soft, easy smile of his. “Didn’t see you after practice this week.”

“Oh,” you said quickly. “Yeah, I’ve just been… around. Super busy.”

“Busy?” he echoed, tilting his head slightly. “With?”

You blinked. “Uh, Yearbook Committee.”

His brows knit together. “I didn’t know you were in the Yearbook Committee.”

“I’m… new,” you added, voice trailing off as your brain gave up on its own excuse.

There was a beat of silence, but he didn’t push. Just nodded slowly, like he was trying to make sense of it all.

Then he smiled again—gentle, like always. “Well, I was just wondering if you were free to—”

“Oh no, sorry!” you cut in, way too fast. “I have to go walk Sunghoon.”

He blinked. “Walk... Sunghoon? The third year student from Algebra?”

“Yes,” you said, forcing a bright smile. “He’s full of energy. If I don’t walk him, he gets cranky. Like a puppy.”

He stared at you, clearly confused. His lips parted like he wanted to ask another question, but instead, he just... laughed. Not a mocking laugh—more like he didn’t quite know what else to do with this absurd turn of conversation.

“Okay. Well… I guess I’ll see you later then?”

“Yup! Later!” you squeaked, turning around so fast you nearly dropped your bag.

You could feel his gaze on you as you walked away—light, warm, lingering. Like he was trying to figure you out.

And you? You were trying not to look back. Trying not to feel how much you missed being around him. How much you wanted to stay.

Because the truth was: you missed him. You missed you with him.

But you’d started something. And for now, you had to stick to it.

Even if it sucked.

—

Heeseung swore something was off.

You weren’t gone, exactly. You still passed him in the hallways. Still laughed a little too loudly with Sunghoon and Jay at lunch. Still wore that bright-colored scarf he once said made you look like a strawberry popsicle.

But you weren’t with him.

Not the way you used to be.

He sat on the edge of the court after practice, towel around his neck, eyes scanning the bleachers again. He hated how natural the motion had become. How instinctive it was to search for you—even when he knew you wouldn’t be there.

Jake flopped down beside him, cracking open a sports drink. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Heeseung muttered.

“You don’t sound like it.”

Heeseung shrugged, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Have you noticed... she’s been different?”

Jake raised a brow. “You mean how she’s not orbiting you like a lovesick planet anymore?”

Heeseung shot him a glare. “That’s not what I meant.”

Jake took a slow sip of his drink. “Isn’t it?”

Heeseung didn’t answer.

Because maybe it was what he meant.

Maybe he had gotten used to you being everywhere. At his games. At his side. Texting him about nothing and everything. Laughing at his dumb jokes. Holding out his bag like it belonged more to you than to him.

And now? Now the silence felt sharp. Uncomfortable.

He scrolled through his messages again. No new ones from you. The last conversation ended with your half-hearted “haha yeah” two days ago.

You didn’t even send him a good luck text before his test today. You always sent him one. Usually something stupid like “Don’t choke! But if you do, make it dramatic so you can retake it with pity points.” It used to make him laugh. It used to calm him down.

Today, he hadn’t laughed before the test.

And he hadn’t done all that well, either.

He sighed, tipping his head back against the wall of the gym.

He didn’t know what had changed. But something had.

And he was starting to think he really didn’t like it.

—

Heeseung wasn’t looking for you.

He absolutely, definitely, one hundred percent was not looking for you.

He just happened to glance over at the courtyard. That’s all.

And okay, maybe his eyes landed on you instantly—like a magnet snapping into place. You were standing with Sunghoon and Jay, your laugh bright and easy, head tipped back like you didn’t have a single worry in the world.

And then Sunghoon did it.

He leaned in and ruffled your hair.

Casual. Familiar.

Too familiar.

Heeseung’s stomach twisted.

He didn’t understand it at first. Not really. He just kept staring, a weird sort of tightness building in his chest, like something was pressing down on him. And then—just to make it worse—Sunghoon said something that made you laugh again. You reached out and lightly shoved his shoulder, still smiling, completely unaware of the storm brewing across the courtyard.

Jake noticed immediately.

“You’re staring again,” he said, biting into an apple with all the serenity of someone enjoying the drama but pretending not to.

“I’m not,” Heeseung muttered.

“Your eyes haven’t left her for five minutes.”

“I’m just… wondering what they’re talking about.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “You mean, what she and Sunghoon are talking about?”

Heeseung said nothing.

Jake smirked. “Don’t worry. I’m sure they’re just planning their wedding. Probably picking out the cake flavor right now.”

“Shut up.”

Jake laughed. “So this is jealousy, huh?”

“It’s not jealousy.”

“Oh yeah, no, of course not. You're just glaring at Sunghoon like you’re mentally photoshopping him out of existence for completely unrelated reasons.”

Heeseung turned away, rubbing a hand over his face.

It wasn’t like he had a claim on you. You could hang out with whoever you wanted. Laugh at anyone’s jokes. Let anyone ruffle your hair.

So why did it feel like something in him was unraveling?

—

Heeseung wasn’t sure what was bothering him, but he knew something felt... off.

You were still around—at lunch, in the halls, in some of your shared classes—but somehow, you were always just out of reach. If he turned one way, you turned the other. If he called your name, someone else answered for you. It was subtle. Strategic.

And frustrating.

Now, walking alone down the hallway, books tucked under one arm, the other gripping his backpack strap, he found his thoughts drifting back to you. Again.

Jake wasn’t there to tease him for it today, off doing who-knows-what, so for once it was just Heeseung and the quiet, creeping ache of your absence.

And then he saw you.

You were halfway down the corridor, walking like you had somewhere to be, light on your feet as always. Maybe it was the way you moved like you had a secret no one else knew or maybe it was just that he hadn’t really seen you in days. Not properly. Not up close.

Before he could stop himself, his hand reached out, catching you gently by the wrist.

“Hey,” he said, smiling before he realized it.

You blinked up at him, startled. “Huh?”

“It’s been a while since I walked you home,” Heeseung said, tilting his head slightly, trying to sound casual. “Want to go together?”

You froze. Your mind scrambled for an excuse—any excuse.

But he was already one step ahead of you.

“You don’t have Debate. Or Yearbook Committee,” he added knowingly. “And I don’t have practice today.”

You exhaled sharply. Damn him for remembering your fake clubs.

“…Sure,” you murmured, defeated.

He smiled again and reached for your backpack, tugging the straps gently off your shoulders so he could carry it for you—like he always did. Like nothing had changed.

The two of you fell into step, walking side by side. Your arms brushed once. Then again. Each time, a jolt of electricity shot up your spine.

“So,” he said after a pause, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, “did you get an A?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The math test,” he clarified. “You were stressing about it for, like, a week. Mr. Kim probably handed it back by now. I’m assuming my smart girl did well?”

Your lips parted slightly.

He remembered?

A slow smile tugged at your lips. “First in class,” you announced proudly. “Take that, Jake Sim.”

Heeseung laughed, the sound warm and familiar. “Good. Someone’s got to put him in his place.”

Then, without warning, he reached over and ruffled your hair. “Proud of you.”

Your heart launched itself into your throat.

His fingers lingered a moment too long, just enough to make you dizzy before pulling away like nothing had happened. Like your world hadn’t just turned upside down.

Typical Heeseung.

You were just trying not to propose.

At the crosswalk, as the light turned red, he reached out again—this time gently guiding you by the elbow, pulling you closer to him.

“There was a bike coming,” he said, eyes on the road ahead.

You squinted. The bike was a speck in the distance. Miles away.

But his hand stayed there.

Just resting.

Light. Thoughtless. Careful.

You swallowed hard.

If he was going to keep doing things like this, you needed revenge. You needed balance. You needed him to second-guess everything the way you did.

So you stopped walking and tugged his arm slightly.

Heeseung turned, confused. “What’s wr—”

And then you stepped in.

Too close.

Your fingers reached up, brushing against the base of his neck as you adjusted the collar of his uniform. It was crooked—only slightly—but you took your time, smoothing the fabric with slow, deliberate movements.

Your knuckles grazed his skin.

He inhaled sharply.

His shoulders stiffened.

And suddenly, the effortlessly charming Lee Heeseung looked completely out of his depth. Like you were the one throwing him off balance now.

His gaze dropped—eyes flicking from your face, to your lips, then quickly back up again.

Heeseung swore he could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

You finished adjusting his collar and smiled up at him—soft, proud, just a little smug.

“There,” you murmured, patting it into place. “All fixed.”

He blinked.

Swallowed.

“…Thanks,” he managed, voice lower than usual, a little hoarse.

And then because apparently his brain had melted, he turned on his heel and walked ahead a little too quickly.

“Slow down!” you called after him with a grin. “Not all of us have basketball player legs, you know.”

He didn’t answer, but you could see the tips of his ears turning red.

—

The walk home with Heeseung did something to you.

Something bad.

You missed him more than you thought you would. Not in a soft, quiet way—but in a way that gnawed at your chest like a small, aggressive squirrel.

Everything reminded you of him. A fork. A book you’d never read. Even Jay’s left toe (don’t ask, you didn’t know why either). You couldn’t stop thinking about him—his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he was excited, the little way he tilted his head when he was listening.

You were, quite frankly, losing it.

Your Lee Heeseung withdrawals were at an all-time high.

Every time you saw him across the room or heard someone say his name, your heart did a thing and your brain spiraled like a bad romcom montage. You were whiny. Pathetically so.

Jay, ever the long-suffering saint, was reaching his limit.

You clung to his jacket sleeve dramatically, voice pitched high with despair. “I can’t do this, Jay. I miss him so much. Why is this so hard?”

Jay gave you a deadpan look that could only be described as emotionally done. With a sigh that came from the depths of his soul, he turned and made a beeline toward the shop’s earplug section.

“If you don’t just tell him how you feel,” he muttered, “I’m going to lose my entire mind.”

You chased after him, still attached to his sleeve like a ghost with commitment issues. “But I can’t! He doesn’t even like me like that!”

Jay stopped in front of the shelf, scanning the rows of earplugs like he was shopping for peace. “What if he does, huh?” he shot back, a little too fast. “This whole walk home story you just told me—it doesn’t sound like nothing.”

You froze. The words you’d overheard days ago came rushing back: She’s cute. A great friend. But I don’t see her that way.

The echo of it still stung.

You let go of Jay’s sleeve and crossed your arms, suddenly quiet. “I heard him, Jay,” you said softly. “He told Jake I was just a friend.”

Jay looked at you. Really looked at you.

And then he grinned.

“Are you laughing at me right now?” You smacked his arm, thoroughly offended.

“It’s just—” he choked back a laugh. “I could’ve sworn that guy was practically drooling over you.”

You scowled. “Well, clearly you’re wrong.”

Jay shook his head, dramatically dropping a pair of foam earplugs into the basket. “Okay, look. So what if he said that? Guys say dumb things all the time. Heeseung’s probably still catching up to his own feelings.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but nothing came out.

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Come on. You’re not the type to wait around forever. If you like him, say something. Stop pretending you don’t care.”

You groaned. “Fine, fine! I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve been thinking about it for three years,” Jay replied, clearly unimpressed.

You crossed your arms and pouted. “You don’t get a say.”

“Oh, but I do.” He popped the earplugs into his ears with a triumphant smirk.

“You’re the worst,” you muttered.

Jay tilted his head dramatically. “Sorry, what was that? Can’t hear you over the peace I bought for $2.99.”

—

That night, Heeseung lay flat on his back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all of life’s biggest questions.

Unfortunately, it did not.

He shifted. Then again. Then once more for dramatic effect. The blanket felt too warm. The pillow was suddenly too flat. Everything was wrong.

But mostly? It was the thoughts. You.

The walk home played on a loop in his mind, like a scene from a movie he couldn’t turn off. He could still feel how close you’d stood to him, the way your arm brushed his, how your fingers had grazed his neck when you fixed his collar. The soft sound of your laughter still echoed in his ears. It was... cute.

Too cute.

Heeseung sighed and rolled onto his side, shoving his face into the pillow.

You had always been his best friend. His safe person. You were fun and loud and comfortably chaotic. You made everything feel easy. But lately, being around you hadn’t felt easy—it felt... intense.

And ever since Jake had made that dumb “are you dating” comment, the idea had rooted itself in his brain like a stubborn weed. He tried to shake it, but it kept growing. Fast.

He used to think about you in a simple way—someone he could count on. Someone who’d be there with snacks and jokes and glittery signs with his name. But now?

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about the tiny flecks of color in your eyes. Or how your laugh made his chest feel tight. Or how you’d smiled up at him after fixing his collar like you had no idea he was short-circuiting.

He groaned again and rolled onto his stomach.

This was bad. He was in trouble.

—-

Across town, in a room filled with fluffy pillows and heartbreak, you were also wide awake.

Staring at the ceiling. Then the wall. Then your blanket. Then the ceiling again.

You sighed and ran your fingers over the threads of your comforter like they held answers the universe refused to give.

Everything reminded you of Heeseung. Your school notes. Your chipped nail polish. The way your lamp was slightly tilted—he was the one who’d knocked it over during your last movie night.

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Was this what pining felt like? Not just the longing or the ache—but the sheer, annoying presence of him in everything? Your brain had become a highlight reel of his smiles, his voice, his laugh. It was embarrassing.

Still… there was a part of you that wondered.

Maybe he felt it too.

You weren’t imagining it, right? The way he looked at you lately—like he was really seeing you. The way his fingers had lingered on your arm a little longer than necessary. The way he had remembered your test, remembered your nerves, and had been genuinely proud of you.

Your heart did a stupid, hopeful little flutter.

But the thought of confessing? Saying it out loud?

You rolled onto your side and buried your face in a pillow.

What if it changed everything? What if he didn’t feel the same? What if he looked at you like you were ridiculous—or worse, like you were just some girl with a dumb, one-sided crush?

Still.

What if he did feel something?

You both lay in your beds that night, across the city, wrapped in your own blankets and your own thoughts—completely unaware that the other was doing the exact same thing.

Thinking about you.

Thinking about him.

—

“Hey, look who it is!” Jake nudged Heeseung with his elbow, already grinning like a devil who’d spotted drama on the horizon.

You looked up, eyes widening as you spotted the two of them heading toward you. There was no time to escape. No possible exits. Just Heeseung, Jake, and a hallway suddenly way too small.

You and Heeseung locked eyes.

And just like that, the walk home replayed itself in your head. The brush of his hand against yours. The weight of your bag over his shoulder. The way he’d looked at you when you smiled at him. You swallowed.

“Uh… hey,” you said, lifting a small, awkward wave. Your voice came out two pitches too high, like someone had sat on the remote.

“Hey,” Heeseung replied, mirroring your stiffness with a half-hearted wave of his own. He was smiling, kind of, but it was tight—uncertain. His heart was pounding. His brain? Completely blank.

Jake, of course, was having the time of his life. “Wow,” he said cheerfully. “This is fun.”

“I—I have to go to the restroom!” you blurted, pointing wildly in the wrong direction before fleeing like a sitcom character mid-episode.

Heeseung stood there, watching you disappear around the corner, every nerve in his body buzzing. His legs felt like jelly. His chest? Tense. His thoughts? Loud.

By the time he stumbled into the locker room, he collapsed dramatically onto the floor like a man defeated.

“I think…” he muttered into the floor, “I might have feelings for her.”

Jake, already sprawled on the coach’s beanbag, didn’t even flinch. He was too busy chewing on a piece of licorice to care.

“Oh, welcome to the club,” he said, voice muffled. “I’ve been a member since the year you told her she looked pretty in green face paint during our third-grade Wicked play.”

Heeseung didn’t react. He just stood up and started pacing—back and forth, back and forth—like his thoughts might rearrange themselves if he walked hard enough.

“I—no, I really like her, Jake.”

Jake raised a hand lazily, like a talk show host mid-monologue. “Please. Continue. This is riveting.”

“I just... I don’t get it. I didn’t realize it before, but now? Now I can’t stop thinking about her. Everything reminds me of her. Like, she fixed my collar yesterday and I think I blacked out for a second.”

Jake popped another licorice into his mouth. “Gross. Cute. But gross.”

“I feel like,” Heeseung continued, running a hand through his hair, “when she’s around, everything just makes sense. And when she’s not? It’s like something’s missing. It’s stupid.”

“Cringe,” Jake said dramatically, slumping deeper into the beanbag. “Do all crushes feel this emotionally inconvenient? If so, I want out.”

Heeseung shot him a glare. “Are you ever helpful?”

“Emotionally? No,” Jake said with a straight face. “But I do hand out brutal honesty like candy.”

Heeseung groaned, flopping onto the bench next to him. “What if she doesn’t feel the same? What if I tell her and she— I don’t know—ghosts me?”

Jake rolled his eyes. “You’re being ridiculous. You’ve been losing your mind for days because she didn’t bring you water after practice. You have hands. Hydrate yourself.”

Heeseung let out a pained noise and buried his face in his hands.

“Just tell her,” Jake said with a shrug. “Worst case, she doesn’t feel the same. But I’m 99.7% sure she does.”

“Oh yeah?” Heeseung muttered into his palms. “And what if I look like an idiot?”

Jake leaned back, tossed a licorice stick in the air, and caught it with practiced ease. “Buddy, you already look like an idiot. Might as well make it romantic.”

Heeseung lifted his head just enough to glare at him.

Jake grinned. “Start simple. Tell her she’s cute. That’s it. It works. Trust me.”

Heeseung blinked. “That’s it? Just ‘you’re cute’?”

Jake nodded. “You’d be shocked how well that lands when you mean it.”

Heeseung stared at him, unconvinced. “You’ve said that to how many people?”

Jake smirked. “Doesn’t matter. It’s worked every time. I am very charming.”

Heeseung groaned again. “I’m not you, Jake.”

Jake sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I know. Which is why this is a 50-50 shot for you. But hey—if you don’t end up with her, can I ask her out?”

Heeseung shot him a death glare.

“Just kidding,” Jake said quickly. Then he paused. “Mostly.”

—-

It all started during lunch.

Jake leaned across the table, eyes gleaming with evil genius energy. “Operation ‘Make Them Walk Home Together So They Finally Kiss or at Least Make Prolonged Eye Contact Without Panic’ is officially in motion.”

Jay blinked. “That's… a terrible name.”

Sunghoon took a bite of his sandwich. “I kinda love it.”

Jake waved a hand. “Name pending. Point is—we trap them. She thinks she’s walking with you two. He thinks he’s walking with me. And then? We disappear. Vanish. Leave them alone. Together. With no backup.”

Jay tilted his head. “And what? Hope the romantic tension forces a confession?”

Jake smirked. “Exactly.”

Sunghoon raised a brow. “This feels like emotional entrapment.”

“It is. And it’s working,” Jake said proudly. “Heeseung’s got it so bad he thought she had a thing for you.”

Sunghoon choked. “Me?”

Jay snorted into his drink. “You do ruffle her hair a lot.”

“Because she’s cute! Like a little puppy!” Sunghoon exclaimed, scandalized.

Jake shrugged. “Well, he’s spiraling. Yesterday he saw you hand her a pen and he went silent for ten whole seconds.”

Sunghoon blinked. “That’s... tragic.”

Jay leaned back in his chair, visibly entertained. “I’m in. For the record, not because I care, but her whining is starting to affect my appetite.”

“Same,” said Sunghoon. “We were on FaceTime for 2 hours and most of it was about Heeseung. I fell asleep after 10 minutes.”

Jake clapped his hands together. “Excellent. Gentlemen, you know your roles. Subtle distraction, coordinated exit, zero guilt.”

Jay raised a brow. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I’ve earned it,” Jake said, already standing. “He stole my last banana milk. This is revenge and service to the nation.”

—-

“Crap,” he muttered. “I forgot my earbuds in the music room.”

Jay snapped his fingers. “Oh shoot. Me too. I left my jacket in the library.”

You raised a brow. “You two always forget things at the same time.”

They both grinned. Suspiciously.

“It’s twin telepathy,” Jay said, winking.

“You’re not twins,” you deadpanned.

“We are in spirit,” Sunghoon added, already stepping backward toward the school building.

Before you could protest, they were both jogging away, waving casually.

“We’ll catch up!” Jay called over his shoulder.

“We swear!” Sunghoon added.

You stood there for a moment, blinking in confusion. “...Okay?”

Then you turned around.

And there he was.

Heeseung.

Standing a few feet away, also holding his bag, looking around like he had just been ditched by someone.

Your eyes met.

Both of you froze.

Heeseung blinked. “Wait… where’s Jake?”

“I... thought he was with you?”

He furrowed his brows. “He texted me like five minutes ago saying we’d walk home together.”

You glanced down at your phone, where a suspiciously vague message from Sunghoon read: “Don’t wait for us. You got this.”

Your stomach dropped.

You looked back up at Heeseung. His phone buzzed. He checked it, then looked at you with slowly widening eyes.

Jake’s message: “Have fun ;)”

There was a beat of silence.

You both stood there.

Just you.

And Heeseung.

And an entire empty sidewalk.

“Oh,” you said softly.

Heeseung scratched the back of his neck. “So... I guess we’re walking together.”

You gave a weak laugh. “Guess we are.”

Silence.

Then, at the exact same time:

“You don’t have to if—” “We can walk separately if—”

You both stopped.

Then laughed.

And for a moment, just a moment, the awkwardness melted. Heeseung smiled—not his usual big grin, but something softer. Warmer. Like he wasn’t so mad about being ditched.

“Let’s just walk,” he said. “Might as well.”

And even though your heart was pounding and you were still very much aware that your so-called friends had just shoved you into a live wire of unresolved tension...

You nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

So you walked.

Side by side.

You weren’t sure how Jay and Sunghoon managed to get you walking next to Heeseung but you were sure it had something to do with Heeseung’s ratty friend Jake.

Heeseung shuffled beside you, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to ignore the weird tension in the air. You, on the other hand, kept your eyes fixed on the road ahead, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came out. It was funny how just a few days ago, this silence would’ve been comfortable—soft, even. But now it felt a little too loud. A little too full.

Suddenly, Heeseung’s foot caught on a small rock, and before he could stop it, he stumbled forward, arms flailing like one of those inflatable tube men outside a car dealership.

“Hee!” you yelped, half-laughing, half-panicked.

Heeseung straightened up, cheeks flushed, but laughing anyway. “Oh, so now you’re laughing at my near-death experience?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—are you okay?” you teased, though you made no effort to hide your giggles.

“Yeah,” he nodded, brushing imaginary dust off his knees. “Just bruised my pride, that’s all. I think the rock has a vendetta.”

The laughter between you settled, but the tension lingered like steam on a bathroom mirror. You shifted on your feet, exhaling softly. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been acting weird. I’ve just been… going through some stuff.”

Heeseung tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What kind of stuff?”

You shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” he nudged your shoulder gently. “You used to tell me everything. Even the time you cried because your goldfish ignored you for two days.”

“Nugget was emotionally manipulative,” you mumbled.

Heeseung grinned. “Still, I miss that. Not Nugget—just... when you talked to me.”

Your cheeks burned. You ducked your head. “It’s just... a little personal.”

Heeseung narrowed his eyes playfully. “Like, family personal? Friends personal? Or…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like he was about to drop a bombshell. “Boy problems?”

You cleared your throat, refusing to meet his eyes. “I guess… the last one?”

He went still beside you.

“Oh…” he said, and his voice had that very specific tone guys get when they’re trying to sound neutral but are actually spiraling.

“So you’re going out with someone?”

“What?! No!” You waved your hands frantically. “I just… I don’t know. It’s stupid. I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

“Oh, come on. Please?” he stopped in his tracks, grabbing both your hands in his and squeezing them dramatically. “I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t know. Think of my well-being.”

You sighed, glancing away. “Fine. It’s just… I think I like someone, and I’m not sure how to tell him.”

Heeseung swore he felt his soul leave his body. You liked someone? Was it… Was it that no-good, pretty-boy Park Sunghoon? Heeseung should’ve stuck with ballet when he was five. Or maybe joined drama. Something, anything, to compete.

“Is it Sunghoon?” he asked before he could stop himself.

You blinked at him, then let out a laugh that was way too loud for the empty sidewalk. “Ew?! No!”

He looked utterly baffled. “What? You’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately, and he’s always ruffling your hair and whatever.”

“He’s just a friend, Hee,” you said gently. But when your eyes dropped to the pavement, something about it made his stomach twist.

A silence settled between you before Heeseung cleared his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Well… you should just tell him.”

You raised a brow. “Oh, should I?”

He nodded, trying to keep his tone even. “Yeah. You’re... pretty. Funny. Smart. If he doesn’t like you back, then he’s probably an idiot. Or stupid. Or a fool.” He paused. “Or all three. Simultaneously.”

You snorted. “Funny you’d say that.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” You waved it off. “What about you? What would you do if you liked someone?”

Heeseung hummed, pretending to think. “I’d probably always wanna hang out with them. Walk them home.”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Have them at all my basketball games. Cheering me on.”

“Right, you wouldn’t want your girlfriend missing those,” you mused.

He nodded solemnly. “Yeah. And it’d totally suck if she stopped showing up to practice too. Especially when the whole team’s used to seeing her in the bleachers... eating snacks loudly.”

“I see how that would suck,” you said, biting your lip to hide a grin.

“I’d also wanna protect her. From oncoming bikes. Sudden rainstorms. Teachers who give pop quizzes.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Protect her from quizzes? What is this, magical girlfriend armor?”

Heeseung smirked. “Exactly. I’d be her human shield.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was thudding in your chest.

“And in case she’s, I don’t know... absolute trash at directions?” he continued. “I’d wait for her. Walk her home. Walk her wherever she wanted to go. Be her personal GPS. And not even charge her.”

You muttered, “Wow. What a bargain.”

“I’d also probably carry her bag,” he added, like it was a casual afterthought—as if he wasn’t literally carrying yours right now.

You puffed your cheeks, trying to play it cool. “Okay, let’s move on to the next topic.”

“I kinda like this topic, though.”

“We get it. You’ll treat her like a princess,” you mumbled.

Heeseung laughed. “How are you not getting it?”

“Getting what?”

“Alright, fine. Let’s make it easier.” He took a deep breath and started counting on his fingers. “Who has never missed a single one of my basketball games?”

You squinted. “Uh... Jake?”

He facepalmed. “Someone not on the team.”

“Me?” you blinked. “I don’t under—”

“Who has no sense of direction?”

“Me?”

“And who always helps that person find their way?”

“You?”

He gave you a flat look. “So... do you catch my drift?”

You stared at him blankly. “No?”

He groaned. “Okay. Last question. Whose bag am I carrying right now?”

“…Mine?”

He smiled at you, exasperated and fond. “Exactly.”

Your heart pounded in your chest like it was trying to make a dramatic exit.

So, hesitantly, you whispered, “What are you saying?”

Heeseung let out a breath, dragging a hand through his hair. Then, like it physically hurt him to keep it in a second longer, he blurted, “For god’s sake, I’m telling you I’m in love with you.”

Your breath caught.

“I. Love. You,” he repeated, staring at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Oh.”

Heeseung groaned loudly, dragging his hands down his face. “Oh? That’s it? After all that?!”

“I—I mean—” You sputtered, brain rebooting. “I didn’t think—”

“God, you’re so dense,” he muttered, but the way he said it was so soft it made your knees weak.

You swallowed. “Say it again.”

He paused, then leaned in slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I love you.”

You grinned, cheeks on fire. “Good. Because the guy I like is you.”

Heeseung blinked. “Yeah. I know.”

Your jaw dropped. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, but I kinda figured when you started scowling after the third time I described how I’d treat my ‘potential girlfriend.’”

You let out a groan, covering your face. “Ugh.”

He laughed, slinging an arm over your shoulders like he’d been waiting years to do that. “It was cute. You’re cute.”

“You can’t blame me for overthinking when you—YOU!” You jabbed a finger at him. “You told Jake I was just a friend!”

Heeseung froze, eyes wide. “You heard that?!”

You nodded—hard. “Word for word. ‘She’s cute, a great friend, but I don’t see her that way.’ Ring any bells?”

He winced like he’d just been personally attacked by a ghost of his own idiocy. “Okay, wow. That sounded so much worse than I meant—”

“You think?” you snapped, crossing your arms tightly. “Do you know what it’s like to hear the person you’ve liked for years say something like that? To be standing there, holding your dumb varsity jacket like some lovesick intern, while you laugh at the idea of liking me?”

Heeseung opened his mouth, but you weren’t done.

“You don’t get to say you love me now and expect it to just erase that.”

His face dropped. For a moment, he looked completely lost for words—completely unlike the smug, charming boy who used to ruffle your hair and make your heart do gymnastics.

“I know,” he said finally, voice soft. “I know I messed that up. I thought... if I said it out loud, it’d make it less real. That if I kept calling you my best friend, I wouldn’t have to deal with how badly I wanted more.”

You blinked, arms slowly falling to your sides.

“I didn’t get it until you weren’t there,” he continued, gaze fixed on yours. “Until I looked for you everywhere and hated that you weren’t looking for me back. That you weren’t smiling at me like you used to. That you started smiling at Sunghoon instead—who, by the way, I totally thought you had a crush on, which sent me into a minor emotional spiral.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “You spiral?”

“I laid on the locker room floor for twenty-five minutes while Jake threw licorice at my face.”

That image alone almost broke your resolve.

Almost.

“I need you to know,” Heeseung said, his voice gentler now, “I was scared. But that doesn’t make it fair to you. And I don’t expect you to forget it overnight. But I meant what I said. I love you. Stupidly. Probably too much. And I’ll wait for you to believe that.”

You stared at him. And he stared back—like he didn’t mind if you took a second or an hour or a whole year to respond. As long as you were looking at him again.

Your heart beat so loud, you were almost sure he could hear it.

You swallowed. “Dropping the L-word before our first date is kinda crazy.”

Heeseung gave a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry. I should’ve started with ‘like.’”

You looked down at the ground, then back up at him.

And smiled—softly, finally. “No. I like crazy.”

2K notes · View notes

seospicybin · 3 months ago

Text

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!

@svintsandghosts @abiaswreck @drhsthl @biribarabiribbaem @skz-streamer @biancaness @elizalabs3 @laylasbunbunny @kpopformylife @caitlyn98s @hann1bee @mamieishere @is2cb97 @marvelous-llama @bluenights1899 @sherryblossom @toplinehyunjin @hanjisbeloved @sunnyseungup @skz4lifer @stellasays45 @severeanxietyissues @imseungminsgf @silentreadersthings @army-stay-noel @rylea08 @simeonswhore @yubinism @devilsmatches @septicrebel @rairacha @ven-fic-recs @hyunjiinnnn @lostgirlinthewoodss @schniti-is-in-the-house @jisunglyricist @minh0scat @simplymoo @inlovewithstraykids @seochangbinnnnnnnnnnn @angstraykids @lenfilms @inniesfanblog @multi-fandommaniac @tirena1 @nightmarenyxx @nebugalaxy @jinniejjam @iknow-uknow-leeknow @akindaflora

#stray kids smut #skz smut #Hyunjin smut #Hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz fics #skz fanfics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut

863 notes · View notes