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pbaz7 · 2 hours ago

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SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 3

paige x azzi

word count: 8k

a/n: this is just a chapter that moves their relationship forward a little so it’s honestly just random interactions they have. let me know what you think/live react if you can. they’re always appreciated 🫶🏼

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Azzi had been back in LA for four days. The Sparks had already knocked out two games, and the schedule gave them a rare breath. One day off before flying out to Connecticut for a few road games. She’d been staring at her phone on and off all morning. Honestly she’d been thinking about texting Paige since she landed back in LA.

Azzi knew that if she didn’t reach out first Paige likely never would. So she kept flipping her phone screen up, then down. Eventually she sighed and grabbed her phone again. Her first message was just something simple.

Azzi [9:17AM]:

hi gorgeous

She didn’t expect a quick response, especially not from Paige. But her phone lit up almost immediately.

Paige [9:17 AM]:

wassup?

This made Azzi sit up a little straighter. She smiled and typed a response.

Azzi [9:17 AM]:

what are you up to today?

Paige [9:18 AM]:

got a training. then prolly going to workout

Azzi blinked, laughing under her breath.

Azzi [9:18 AM]:

you’re going to workout AFTER you’re done training?

Paige [9:18 AM]:

yeah

Of course she was. Azzi bit her lip, thumbs hovering as she debated what she wanted to say next. Finally, she decided to just be blunt.

Azzi [9:19 AM]:

i wanna see you today

if that’s ok with you

There was a short pause. Long enough to make Azzi regret sending it before Paige finally replied.

Paige [9:21 AM]:

you can come work out with me

Azzi [9:22 AM]:

it’s an off day

but i can come watch you workout

Paige [9:22 AM]:

watch me workout? seems boring

Azzi grinned as she typed her reply

Azzi [9:22 AM]:

i’m sure i’ll enjoy myself

Paige texted back a minute later.

Paige [9:23 AM]:

trainer’s coming at 10

i’ll probably start my workout around 12

Paige dropped a pin for her address and Azzi liked the message.

Azzi [9:24 AM]:

see you soon :)

As the morning stretched on, Azzi kept herself busy by stretching, having a little fruit, and scrolling. The clock felt like it was moving just a little slower than usual on purpose.

But when it finally got closer to the time she should leave, she took a shower and slipped on a pair of black Nike leggings and a black crop top. It was warm enough that the idea of her curls sticking to her neck made her grimace, so she pulled her hair up into a bun.

She glanced at herself once in the mirror, fixing her bun slightly before she grabbed her keys to head out the door.

When Azzi pulled up to the house, she eased into the driveway next to a matte black Audi R8 V10. Her eyes lingered on it for a second, slightly surprised.

She reached for her phone, debating whether to shoot Paige a quick text letting her know she was here. But she figured Paige was probably mid-set or hadn’t even checked her phone since this morning. So she opted for the side gate that she remembered going through with Cam and Rickea last time they were here.

The path curved around the backyard, and as she got closer to the gym she heard a voice calling out numbers and gloves hands hitting mitts with a constant rhythm. It sounded like Paige was still with her trainer so Azzi slowed her pace slightly, not wanting to interrupt.

Azzi stepped in slowly, the door creaking just enough to announce her presence. Paige and her trainer both instinctively turned toward the sound; Paige still breathing heavily, cloves resting at her sides, a grey shirt clinging to her skin.

The trainer looked confused, his eyes flicking to Paige silently asking if she was expecting someone but Paige didn’t react, only offering up, “I’ll be done in like ten minutes.”

Azzi gave her a soft smile saying, “No rush.” Azzi then made her way to the bench tucked along the side wall.

The trainer raised his padded hands again, and Paige turned back to him, nodding her head slightly, telling him to continue.

“1-1-2,” he called out.

Paige’s gloves snapped forward in a quick rhythm of two jabs and a cross.

“1-2-3.”

Another jab, cross, lead hook. It all seemed so crisp. Paige reacted to the combos like they had been engraved in her brain.

“6-3-2.”

The uppercut she threw landed with enough force to make her trainer shift his stance. He didn’t comment on it, just nodded in silent praise.

Azzi leaned back against the bench, watching the rest of Paige’s training unfold. Paige’s grey shirt was soaked through the back, and her blonde hair was tied into a messy bun. There was no music playing and no unnecessary chatter. Azzi’s eyes tracked every one of Paige’s movements. The way her back foot pivoted, how she snapped back into guard after each hit. How her shoulders moved with fluidity. Her breathing steady even as sweat rolled down the side of her jaw.

She looked beautiful like this and Azzi couldn’t help but feel a little in awe of watching her in her element.

The trainer called for a sidekick and Paige turned her hips and threw it hard—maybe a little too hard. Her foot hit the pad and forced her trainer to take a small step back, wincing with a quick laugh.

“Alright, yeah,” he said, shaking her head. “We’re done for the day.”

Paige’s face didn’t change much. She just exhaled through her nose, taking a step back and uncleaning her fists. She mumbled out, “My bad,” before moving to step out of the cage.

She walked toward the bench, tugging at the velcro on her gloves as Azzi sat up straighter, trying not to let it show how much she’d been staring.

Paige peeled the gloves off her hands and tossed them onto the bench next to Azzi. She stepped forward, reaching just past her, close enough that Azzi caught the faint scene to sweat and whatever soap Paige used. Her arm brushed Azzi’s shoulder lightly as she grabbed a half-empty bottle of water.

Paige twisted the cap off and took a long swig before glancing down at Azzi. “What’d you think?”

Azzi looked up at her, a small smile on her lips. “You look good.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, “I was talking about my form Azzi.”

Azzi shrugged, a little sheepish, but she still had a smile on her face. “I mean…I don’t know anything about fighting. But you hit stuff really well and you look good doing it.”

Paige just stared at her for a second, jaw flexing before she finally shook her head and took a step back, mumbling under her breath, “Jesus Christ.”

Azzi stood up, brushing invisible lint off her leggings as she took a step toward Paige. The blonde had her fingers hooked at the hem of her wet shirt tugging it upward over her torso. Her abs flexed briefly with her movements and her skin glistened under the overhead lights. She let her gaze linger, just for a second too long and Paige caught it. She paused halfway through pulling her shirt over her head saying, “Enjoying the show?”

Azzi’s eyes lift up to meet Paige’s blue ones. At the same time she bites her bottom lip a little saying, “Like I said, you definitely look good.”

Paige yanks the shirt off the rest of the way. “That right?”

Brown eyes drop to pale collarbones and abs before rising. “That’s right.”

Paige shakes her head with a quiet chuckle and glances somewhere else in the gym. “You flirt like you get paid to do it.”

Azzi grinned at this. “Could be if you hired me.”

That made Paige glance over at her again, a slight sparkle in her eye. “What’s the job description?”

Azzi pretended to think about it for a second before saying, “Motivational speaker. Personal admirer maybe. Really depends on what you like.”

Paige took another sip of her water, maybe trying to hide the small curve at the edge of her mouth. “You’re a little ridiculous, you know that?”

Azzi shrugged, “You’re not telling me to stop, so maybe you like it.”

Paige looked at her, like really looked, then just briefly her eyes flicked from Azzi’s face to her lips, the back again. If Azzi wasn’t paying attention she wouldn’t have caught it, but she did and she licked her lips slightly to stop the smirk. Paige finally said, “I told you, You can flirt if it floats your boat.”

“It does.”

They stood in the stillness of Azzi’s words for a second and the air between them seemed to get a little thick before Paige looked away, tipping her head toward the weights. “Spot me?”

Azzi didn’t take her eyes off of Paige as she nodded. “Mhmm.”

Paige walked over to the bench press, grabbing a towel and throwing it over the bench before sitting down. Azzi trailed after her slowly, watching every movement.

“You can’t spot me if you’re just going to stare,” Paige said plainly.

Azzi smiled, completely unapologetic about her blatant staring. “You’ll be fine.”

Paige scoffed softly, then laid back and adjusted her grip on the bar. Azzi stepped in behind her, hovering above the bar now. Paige exhaled deeply and began her set, the bar rising and falling easily. Azzi counted under her breath, but somewhere around rep five, her eyes began to drift from Paige’s shoulders to her chest down to her tight abs on display.

By the eight rep, Paige racked the bar cleanly and sat up. She caught Azzi’s gaze. “Thought you were spotting me.”

Azzi blinked, adding a sarcastic comment to recover. “Seems like you didn’t need one.”

Paige wiped her face with the towel. “I didn’t. I was humoring you.”

Azzi grinned. “That’s sweet. Most people take me seriously though.”

Paige took a long sip of water, then looked at her again. “That might be the problem.”

Azzi tilted her head at this. “You don’t?”

Paige met her gaze. “I didn’t say that.”

Azzi let the moment hang, the tension rising in the space between them.

Paige looked away, putting her water bottle back on the floor. “I’m doing another set.”

Azzi stepped back slightly, eyes still on her. “Don’t let me distract you.”

Paige shook her head as she laid back down, gripping the bar mumbling, “Little late for that.”

She moved through the rest of her push day easily, not pushing herself too hard. Doing just enough to keep her muscles active. Azzi lingered close by during each exercise, standing near Paige, sitting on the edge of the bench, or crouched nearby, offering jokes to distract the blonde on purpose.

“Your shoulders are actually kind of crazy,” Azzi said at one point when Paige set down her dumbbells. “You could do all of this and still have energy to carry me upstairs.”

Paige shook her head, biting back a laugh as she grabbed her towel. “You got a crazy ass imagination.”

“Not crazy,” Azzi responded, walking with Paige to her next station. “Just optimistic.”

There were more lines like that. Compliments tossed out like bait knowing Paige would bite on some of them. For the most part Paige deflected with a dry comment or a simple raised eyebrow, but Azzi noticed the few that landed. The slight lift at the corner of Paige’s mouth, the way she’d glance down at her feet or take a deep breath before moving on.

Eventually the workout wrapped up and Paige was rolling out her shoulders and stretching on one of her mats. Her arms were crossed behind her back in a deep chest opener. Azzi had been quiet for the past couple of minutes, as she watched Paige stretch in peace.

“You always dissociate like this when you’re done working out? Azzi asked as she stepped closer to Paige.

“Only when somebody’s staring at me like they’re tryna eye fuck me and I gotta pretend like I don’t see it.” Paige replied, keeping her eyes forward.

Azzi smiled at this and said, “I’m just appreciating the view.”

Paige turned her head, catching the way Azzi’s gaze wasn’t on her face, her eyes resting on the exposed skin just above her waistband. Now don’t get her wrong, Azzi wasn’t desperate by any means. She just knew what her gaze did, knew how to play the game right. So when she saw Paige looking at her she stepped closer, the two of them face to face and her hand lifted, her fingers lightly grazing the lining of Paiges stomach muscles, her eyes moving up to see the blonde’s reaction.

Paige’s jaw looked clenched and her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. For a moment it didn’t feel like the blonde was breathing. The contact was so light that it could’ve been imagined, but Paige felt it and it made her all too aware of how long it had been since she’d gotten laid.

Azzi let her fingers drop away, brushing her hand back as if nothing happened. “Did I tell you that you look good already?”

Paige didn’t say anything right away. She just kept her gaze on Azzi’s face, then drifted her eyes to Azzi’s lips before she broke it, looking past her, toward the other end of the gym like she needed to redirect her thoughts before they got ahead of her.

“You hungry?” Paige asked.

Azzi didn’t move at first, still watching Paige’s reaction before she finally stepped back, a small smile returning to her face. “I could eat.”

Paige nodded, breathing out through her nose as if Azzi stepping back gave her enough space to focus again. “Cool,” she said, bending down to reach for her towel. “Gimme a few to shower?”

Azzi just nodded as she walked over to grab her phone and keys from the bench.

Paige hesitated before she added, “You can come in if you want. Chill in the living room or whatever.”

“Yeah, sure,” Azzi said as she brushed her fingers through her hair, redoing her bun as they walked out of the gym together.

Paige flipped off the lights before shutting the door behind them. The early afternoon sun had warmed the path between Paige’s gym and the house and neither one of them spoke as they made their way across it.

Once they were inside Paige gestured down the hall. “Living room’s right through there. Think the remote’s on the couch.”

Azzi gave her a short nod and she watched as the blonde undid her bun and ran a hand through her damp hair before disappearing around the corner to head upstairs. There was something so effortlessly magnetic about her that Azzi couldn’t put her finger on.

She made her way into the living room, her footsteps soft against the wooden floors. She sank into the large cream colored couch, her body easily relaxing into the soft cushions as her gaze drifted around the space. The house was a modern Beverly hills home but it didn’t feel cold or unlived in.

There was a massive flat screen TV that was mounted on the fart wall with a PS5 mounted next to it. The TV was tucked between two tall shelves that held a mix of items. Some shelves were stacked with books while others had completed LEGO sets lined up and vinyls for a record player that sat nearby.

There was a collection of picture frames and Azzi leaned forward slightly, squinting to see them better from where she sat. A few of the pictures had Cam in them, the two of them in various settings: on a court, at what looked like a dinner, one with their arms slung around each other when they were younger at what looked like a family function. Other frames held what Azzi assumed was other family members. One picture showed Paige with a little girl on her back, both of them laughing.

Azzi’s eyes trailed to the large floor length curtained windows. Sunlight pressing softly against the cream fabric casting muted lines on the floor. The space felt personal.

She passed the time by scrolling on her phone, mindlessly switching between her apps. Azzi wasn’t sure of how much time had gone by when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs and when she looked up Paige was back. She was dressed in black Essentials sweats and a fitted black tank top.

Azzi’s eyes took in her appearance before she smiled. “You love showing off your arms, huh?”

“We live in L.A.”

Azzi laughed softly as Paige walked fully into the living room and sat on the couch, leaning her weight against the armrest.

“You smell good.”

Normally, Paige would’ve brushed it off, letting the comment go unaddressed. This time she glanced at Azzi and offered a small, “Thank you.”

Azzi was momentarily caught off guard by the acknowledgement. She was used to Paige ignoring her compliments at this point.

Paige leaned back further into the couch, letting her arm drape over the edge. “You have a preference? Food-wise?”

Azzi gave her a look. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who just worked out for, like, three and a half hours.”

Paige shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I already started cutting.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Cutting?”

Paige nodded, resting her phone against her thigh. “Yeah. I gotta drop back to 135.”

Azzi’s forehead creased, her confusion and curiosity reflexive. “What are you now?”

“I’m naturally like 140, 141,” Paige said. “Gotta be 135 at most for the fight tho.”

Azzi tilted her head, still confused. “Alright potential stupid question…why drop weight? Wouldn’t it make more sense to just fight at whatever weight you’re naturally at?”

Paige raised her eyebrows a little, clearly used to this question. “It doesn’t really work like that. Most fighters cut weight to compete in a lower class. Fighting up means you're probably giving up a lot of size, reach, strength. It’s doable, but you’re at a disadvantage most of the time.” Paige pauses before adding, “Think about it like me for example. I’m 141 dropping to 135. If I fought at 145 I’d prolly be fighting someone who’s naturally 151 dropping to 145. So they’d have 10 pounds on me naturally.”

“So 135 is...what weight class?” Azzi asked, shifting a little closer on the couch.

“Bantamweight,” Paige answered , taking a sip of water. “I can fight at featherweight too if I want—that’s 145. But most of the top girls in that division walk around way heavier than I do.”

Azzi nodded. “So you’ll drop, weigh in at 135, and then go back up?”

“Pretty much. It’s a game. Make weight, rehydrate, eat. You just hope the cut doesn’t drain you too much. It’s why I start earlier.”

Azzi’s eyes drifted away, still trying to wrap her head around the new information. “That sounds crazy. And the weigh-in is right before the fight?”

Paige shook her head. “Nah, usually the day before. Gives you time to recover a little.”

“So how many classes are there in the UFC?”

“For women? Four main ones. Strawweight, Flyweight, Bantamweight, and Featherweight,” Paige listed off easily. “Each one’s got killers. Every class plays out a little different depending on size and speed.”

Azzi glanced over at her. “You really know all this off the top of your head?”

Paige nodded. “I live it.”

Azzi smiled, letting the quiet admiration show on her face. “You know this is probably the most you’ve talked since we met, right?”

Paige glanced at her. “It’s easy to talk about.”

Azzi shifted again slightly on the couch, turning her body more toward Paige. “Yeah. I can tell it means a lot to you.”

Paige leaned her head back against the cushion before looking over. “It does.”

The room settled into a soft pause before Azzi nudged her knee lightly against Paige’s. “You just wanna order something?”

Paige glanced down at the slight contact before saying, “Up to you.”

Azzi grinned. “Dangerous last words.”

Paige shrugged, letting her arm drape over the back of the couch. “I trust you…Kinda.”

Azzi gave her a mock-offended look. “Kinda?”

“Let’s see what you pick first.”

Paige tossed her phone toward Azzi, who grabbed it from the couch cushion it landed on. She tucked her legs underneath her and began scrolling through DoorDash, her eyes scanning for something that caught her attention.

After a few minutes, she made a satisfied noise, picked something for herself and handed the phone back. “This one.”

Paige looked down at the screen, reading the choice. Her expression didn’t change as she glanced back up at Azzi. “You’re disgusting.”

Azzi laughed, unbothered. “God forbid an athlete tries to eat healthy.”

Paige shook her head, muttering under her breath as she navigated the app. “This isn’t healthy. It’s a crime.”

“I like what I like,” Azzi said with a big smile, clearly amused by Paige’s distaste.

Paige ended up ordering a BLTA for herself and then locked the phone, tossing it aside on the cushion. “I no longer trust you to pick a meal.”

Azzi smirked. “Shouldn’t have handed me your phone.”

Paige let out a soft huff of a laugh and leaned back again. “Mistakes were clearly made.”

Azzi mirrored Paige’s position, tilting her head back to rest against the back of the couch as she watched the side of Paige’s face. “So,” she said casually, “what do you usually do when you have people over?”

Paige didn’t glance over. “I don’t.”

“Like…ever?”

“Not really.” Paige said, tilting her head to look over at Azzi for a second. “Too much effort and they never know when to leave.”

Azzi smirked. “Sounds like you’ve had some interesting guests.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh. “I’ve had…mistakes.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Mistakes?” Her tone was light, but there was an edge of curiosity in it. “You don’t do the whole casual thing?”

Paige shook her head. “Too much of a distraction. Not worth the trouble at the end of the day.”

Azzi tilted her head, studying her. “So what I’m hearing is that it’s just never been good enough?”

Paige's eyes stayed forward. “I didn’t say that.”

“If it was good enough, it’d be worth the trouble.”

Paige let out a laugh—more air than sound—but her face didn’t change. “You’re real confident for someone making a lot of assumptions.”

Azzi shrugged, eyes never leaving Paige. “You make it easy. You talk like someone who’s been disappointed one too many times.”

Paige let the comment hang in the air, deciding not to comment on it. “Tell me about you,” she said casually.

Azzi lifted her eyebrow. “What do you wanna know?”

Paige didn’t blink. “Whatever you wanna tell.”

So Azzi decides to talk to Paige about basketball. She shifted as she spoke, animated in a way Paige hadn’t seen before. Her hands moved when she talked about her parents, her eyes lighting up when she described the chaos of the backyard drills and unconventional training days—the time her mom saran wrapped her right arm to make her left better. Paige listened, barely speaking, but her expressions—however small—gave her away. A faint smirk at the saran wrap story, subtle eye contact at the ACL details, a quiet nod when Azzi described the mental weight of the recovery.

When Azzi got to the part about winning a championship, her voice softened just a little, like the memory carried a kind of stillness in her heart. “It made everything feel worth it,” she said, gaze lingering on the wall for a moment before glancing back at Paige. “Every surgery, every rehab session…all of it.”

Before Paige could respond, the doorbell rang. She stood up to grab the food, muttering something about “terrible timing” that earned a smile from Azzi. She sat back down, gave Azzi her food and they started to eat as the conversation picked up again. This time with Paige asking more, drawing Azzi out on certain moments, adding dry comments here and there that made Azzi laugh. Comments that made Azzi glance at her like she was trying to figure her out in a new way.

After she grew tired of talking about herself Azzi finished a bite of her sandwich and asked, “What about you? What made you get into fighting?” She knew the basics from Cam, how Paige’s dad had introduced her to the sport. Still, she wanted to hear it from Paige herself.

Paige glanced at her, wiping her hands on a napkin before leaning back against the couch. She didn’t answer right away, her eyebrows moving very slightly as she thought about what to say.

“I’m sure Cam’s told you I can be a bit…” she trailed off, lips tugging to the side as she searched for the right word. “Ill-tempered sometimes.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, amused more by Paige’s dry delivery than the admission itself. “That’s one way to put it.”

Paige chuckled slightly, her gaze dropping to the space between them. “My dad noticed it early on. Instead of riding me about it or trying to fix it the way most parents might, he found me something I could throw it into. Said I needed an outlet. Fighting made the most sense.”

Azzi nodded, chewing slowly as she took the information in. “Where’d the ‘ill-temperament’ come from?”

Paige was quiet for a moment but her posture or expression didn’t change. “When I was younger, my parents used to argue a lot. I’m talking loud, ugly shit. Eventually they split. I think I was around fourteen. Fifteen maybe.” She cleared her throat like it might push away the weight of the memory. “I was pissed at my mom for a while for leaving. Didn’t matter that it was probably the right choice or that she was doing the best she could. At that age, anger sort of…replaces any logic.”

Azzi didn’t interrupt, just turned more toward her as she listened.

“We’re good now though…really good, actually. But back then? I was just mad. At everything. Fighting gave me somewhere to put it.”

Paige leaned her head back against the cushion again, eyes moving up toward the ceiling for a second. “I don’t know why I still got a temper now, honestly. Maybe I just got hit in the head too many times.”

To her surprise, Azzi let out a soft laugh before adding, “You probably shouldn’t joke about that,” giving Paige a playful nudge with her knee.

Paige smirked faintly, the corner of her mouth twitching as she glanced at her. “I’ll live.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, but her smile lingered. “Sure. Just don’t start forgetting things mid-conversation and we’ll be good.”

“I do that already,” Paige deadpanned, reaching for her water. “So if I forget your name tomorrow, don’t take it personal.”

Azzi tilted her head, grinning. “I’ll just remind you. Over and over and over.”

Paige gave her a sideways look shaking her head a little.

Azzi leaned her head back against the couch, eyes scanning Paige’s face. “You feel ready for the fight?”

Paige exhaled through her nose, arms folding loosely across her stomach. “No,” she admitted. “But I got two and a half weeks to be ready.”

Azzi tilted her head with genuine curiosity. “What makes you not ready?”

Paige shifted, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her water bottle. “Still gotta drop a few more pounds,” she said, then added, “And I’ve only watched a couple of her fights. I don’t have a feel for her tells yet.”

“Why aren’t you watching more then?”

Paige glanced over, adding dryly. “You’re here.”

Azzi gave a one-shouldered shrug, the corner of her mouth twitching. “We can watch it.”

There was a small stretch of silence before Paige asked, “You sure?” Searching Azzi’s face like she didn’t expect the offer.

Azzi nodded once. “Yeah.”

Paige grabbed the remote from the coffee table, her voice a little quiet as she said, “Bet,” before turning on the TV. A beat passed before she pulled up the fight footage, scrolling through a few thumbnails before selecting one.

They watched in near silence, the commentary barely registering as Paige sat forward, forearms resting on her thighs, eyes locked on the screen like she was studying a puzzle no one else could solve. The glow of the TV danced against her features, her a little jaw tense. Expression completely unreadable.

Every so often, Azzi would ask a question. Sometimes pointing at something, sometimes just tilting her head in confusion and Paige would answer, not unkindly, but with the same flat focus she gave the fight. Her replies were short, sometimes dry, offering, “No, that’s not a choke.” Or, “That’s awful footwork, she’s baiting herself.” But she never ignored Azzi, never brushed her off which didn’t go unnoticed by the brown eyed girl. If anything, she kept rewinding the footage as if each question helped her think differently.

Paige replayed one sequence three times in a row. “She drops her left every time she throws a hook,” she mumbled more to herself than to Azzi, gesturing with the remote. “Wide open for a counter.”

Azzi nodded slowly, starting to follow the things Paige was explaining to her. At one point she squinted at the fighter in question. “Why does she drop her hands when she lands?” she asked after a few seconds.

Paige blinked over at her. “What?”

Azzi pointed at the screen, her voice reflecting her curiosity. “Right after she hits clean, like you call it. She does this little—" she mimicked it, “—like, a half shrug or flex.”

Paige narrowed her eyes and rewound the clip, watching it again. Going back to other timeframes where she remembered a hit landing. The girl would land a crazy combo and sure enough, right after a hook. There was a split-second drop of her hands, almost like a flash of her arrogance, a cocky shoulder roll.

Paige stared for a moment, then tilted her head in complete confusion at something so obvious. “…What the fuck,” she whispered, almost too low for Azzi to hear. “That’s a rhythm break.”

Azzi smiled slightly at the thought of helping Paige a little

Paige didn’t say anything right away, she just rewound and played the moment back a few more times, in disbelief. “It’s so fucking obvious that I didn’t even see that. That’s...that’s stupid, but it’s useful.” She sat back slightly, her eyebrows raised in thought. “She’s gonna eat a hook doing that shit.”

Azzi leaned her head against the couch, watching Paige more than the screen now. “Guess I’m good for something.”

Paige didn’t look over, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Remind me to bring you to film more often.”

Azzi smiled at that, but didn’t respond. Instead, she let the silence settle between them again, the commentary of the fight filling the space. Paige suddenly exhaled and sank back into the couch, her posture finally relaxing.

“You always like this before a fight?” Azzi asked softly, not necessarily teasing her, just curious about getting to know her mannerisms.

Paige glanced over at her, her eyes more reflective than defensive. “I don’t know. Guess I just get quiet. Try to lock in.”

Azzi nodded. “You’re intense.”

“Takes one to know one.”

That made Azzi laugh, but it was quieter this time. She shifted to face Paige fully, resting her arm on the back of the couch behind her. “You ever get scared?”

Paige’s eyes moved back to the screen, then down to her hands resting on her thighs. “Not of getting hit,” she said eventually. “I trained too long for that. I’m more afraid of...not being good enough. Not being who I expect myself to be.”

The room went a little still after that. Not in a bad way, just honest.

Azzi’s voice dropped, almost hesitant to break the moment. “That’s a lot to carry.”

Paige gave a small nod, the flicker of an emotion crossing her face. “Yeah.”

Azzi’s fingers moved, brushing along the back of the couch, close to Paige’s shoulder but not touching her. “Well,” she said after a moment, “for what it’s worth…you’re one of the few people I’ve ever watched and thought, ‘yeah, she’s doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing.’”

Paige turned her head to look at her and their eyes met for a moment. Almost like Paige was studying Azzi. When she finally spoke her voice was low, “You don’t even like fighting.”

Azzi tilted her head. “No. But I kinda like you so.”

The shift in their positioning was subtle. A slight lean of Azzi’s body toward hers, and the way Paige didn’t pull back. Just sat there, watching her like she wasn’t quite sure what to do with what she was thinking, but she wasn’t going to stop it either.

Paige’s gaze lingered on her for a second longer before drifting back to the screen. “You’re easy to be around.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the words and by how Paige said them. Almost like they hadn’t meant to come out, or like she’d practiced saying them in her head but couldn’t bring herself to look at Azzi when she said them.

Azzi smiled softly and teased Paige a little saying, “That was sweet.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Paige added dryly, trying to wrap humor around something that wasn’t really a joke.

“Too late.”

Paige didn’t say anything back—not because she didn’t have a response, but because that was her response.

After a while, the room settled into another comfortable stillness, broken only by the occasional shifting of weight on the couch as they talked. But outside, the sun started to disappear and Azzi glanced at her phone, sighing as she sat up slightly.

“I should go. I gotta be up early. Flight to Connecticut tomorrow.”

Paige didn’t say anything right away, just watched Azzi. “Who you play?”

“Connecticut. Then the Mystics, and the Sky before we come back.”

Paige nodded slowly. “I’ll watch.”

Azzi grinned at this. “You will?”

Paige just looked at her with that same unreadable expression. “Yeah.”

They walked out together, the air cooler than what it was earlier in the day. When they got to Azzi’s car, she opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat, but didn’t start the engine right away as she looked back at Paige, whose hand was resting on the door handle.

“I’ll text you,” Azzi said softly..

Paige gave a small nod. “Alright.” She hesitated for half a second, then gently pushed the car door closed for her.

Azzi lingered behind the window for just a moment, gaze meeting Paige’s again through the glass. Then she gave a small wave before turning on the car and shifting into reverse.

Paige stood near her car and watched Azzi disappear down the path.

…

For the first few days of Azzi’s road trip, they stayed in touch. Not constantly, but enough to be in the loop of one another’s day. Enough to miss it when it started to fade.

They would exchange texts after workouts or games, quick check-ins.

Azzi [12:19 PM]:

almost broke my ankle on a mop left on the court during shoot around

wanna come fight the janitor for me?

Paige [12:21 PM]:

i’ll pull up

being gloves for both of us

Another time after Paige had just finished sparring.

Paige [1:23 PM]:

heads still attached..barely

how’s your shot today?

Azzi [1:40 PM]:

clean. unlike your footwork probably

They even shared a call on the third night. Azzi had dialed on a whim, not expecting much. But Paige answered, the background noise of her gym speakers still playing music behind her voice.

“You’re still there?” Azzi asked, settling back in her hotel bed.

“Yeah,” Paige replied, slightly breathless. “Didn’t think you were the type to call.”

“Didn’t think you’d answer,” Azzi shot back, but the smile in her voice gave her away.

They talked for fifteen minutes—about nothing, really. Just talked.

But by the fifth and sixth day, Paige had gone quiet.

No text. No post-training recap. No response when Azzi sent her something from her game.

It was like she’d disappeared from the face of the earth.

Currently the cabin buzzed faintly with the quiet hum of the team plane and the occasional shuffle of movement from teammates. Azzi sat in her seat, her legs stretched out in front of her and her phone resting on her thigh, screen blank.

Across the aisle, Cam noticed the shift in her energy, even before Azzi pulled her headphones off.

“Hey,” Azzi said, her voice a little quiet to not disturb anyone else as she leaned over. “You heard from Paige?”

Cam looked up from the tablet she was watching film on. “Yeah talked to her a couple of days ago. Why?”

Azzi gave a small shrug, too casual to be real. “Just wondering. Haven’t really heard from her the past few days.”

Cam studied her expression for a moment. Head tilting and eyes narrowing like she was trying to read something off Azzi’s face. “You guys been talking?”

Azzi hesitated, then nodded once. “Yeah a little.”

Cam’s expression softened—not into pity, but something close. Like she understood something Azzi wasn’t saying yet. She glanced at Azzi’s phone, then back at her.

“I told you she gets like this sometimes,” she offered gently. “Goes quiet. Especially when she’s locked in. Fight’s in a little over a week.”

Azzi nodded again, slower this time. “Yeah,” she murmured, her gaze drifting out the window, even though the clouds outside were too high and white to offer her anything.

“Since you can’t pop up at her house like I’d usually suggest…just call her when we get to the hotel tonight.”

Azzi let out a short breath, more of a quiet exhale than anything. “I’ve already text her a few times.”

“She probably hasn’t even seen them,” Cam told her. “She keeps her call ringer on, but turns off notifications for messages ”

Azzi nodded at that, letting the information settle.

Cam studied her for another moment. Then she smiled a little wide. “You like her, don’t you?”

Azzi blinked, her eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

“I thought you were fucking around before. Just attracted to her like everyone else,” Cam said. “But you actually like her.”

Azzi didn’t answer nor look at her right away. Her fingers tapped her phone once before going still in her lap. There wasn’t a need for her to say it out loud. But still she looked at Cam and said quietly, “Yeah. I do.”

Cam surpassingly didn’t tease her. She just nodded, like she understood the small weight of Azzi saying that. Then she went back to watching film on her iPad and Azzi went back to listening to music.

When they landed and Azzi got settled into her hotel room, she sat on the edge of the bed, her phone in hand. Cam’s words echoed in her head, and for a minute, she just stared at the screen, thumb hovering over Paige’s name in her recent contacts. She sighed before she tapped the call button.

It rang three times before a slightly breathless voice came through. “Hey.”

Azzi smiled faintly when she heard her voice. “Hi, stranger.”

“I’m sorry,” Paige said, her voice still a little uneven, the background music muffled but noticeable.

Azzi’s eyebrows pinched together slightly. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing just hitting,” she muttered.

Azzi pulled the screen back just long enough to glance at the time. “At 11 at night?”

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, her voice a little distant again like she’d pulled the phone away or was pacing.

It went quiet between them for a moment. Then Paige’s voice cut through more clipped than usual. “You need something?”

Azzi got a little tense at the tone, recognizing the edge in it but choosing not to meet it with her own. “You went a little MIA the past two days.”

There was another pause. Azzi could almost hear Paige slowing down on the other end, just slightly. But the silence stretched for so long it made Azzi think maybe Paige hadn’t heard her

But then—“I’m sorry,” Paige said again, a little softer this time. “Didn’t mean to snap at you.”

Azzi shook her head, adjusting the phone against her ear as she sank back into the pillows. “What’s going on?”

The other end of the line went quiet again, just the faint sound of Paige’s breathing which was slower now, like she’d finally stopped moving. Azzi waited patiently.

Then came a low exhale. “Just been in my head too much.”

Azzi let the silence stretch for a second before asking gently, “You wanna talk about it?”

There was a dry laugh from Paige. “Not much to talk about.”

“You’re in your head, aren’t you?” Azzi challenged her.

The silence that followed gave Azzi her the answer. She shifted again, pulling the hotel comforter over her legs. “What are you in your head about?”

It took Paige a few seconds to respond, but when she did, her voice was quieter than usual.

“No matter how ready you feel,” she said, “there’s still the nerves...the slight fear of stepping in the cage with somebody whose only goal is beating your ass. Knock you out if they can.”

Azzi nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at her lips when she realized Paige was opening up. She could still hear Paige’s slight breathlessness on the other end of the line, could picture her wiping sweat from her forehead, standing somewhere in the middle of the gym, hands probably still wrapped.

"On the bright side,” Azzi said lightly, “that’s your goal too, right? Just beat her ass first.”

Paige huffed out a quiet laugh, the first genuine one Azzi had heard all call. “Fair.”

A beat passed, then Azzi asked, more seriously this time, “Does this one feel any different?”

“No, not really,” she said slowly. “I just know she’s arrogant. Got something to prove, so she’s gonna come in heavy. Probably try to make it a statement match.”

Azzi leaned back against the headboard, her eyes tracing the soft lines in the hotel ceiling. “Then just remind yourself of who you are. Of how you said you don’t step in there unless you know you’re walking out.”

There was a small pause on the other end—then a subtle shift in Paige’s breathing. The heaviness that had stuck to her voice since answering the call started to fall away.

“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice steadier now. “You’re right.”

Azzi smiled faintly. “So if you know who you are and what you can do…what’s going on?”

Paige took a long breath before replying. “Before every fight, you gotta get over that hump,” she admitted. “That mindset of knowing one hit…just one hit…could change your life forever. One hit hard enough, and it’s lights out.”

Azzi didn’t jump in to comment right away. She let the truth of the words settle between them, the weight of what Paige said. But she didn’t sound scared, she sounded like someone who knew the risks and still loved what she did.

Azzi shifted slightly under the covers, cradling the phone closer to her ear. Her voice was calm, like she didn’t want to spook whatever Paige was still untangling in her chest.

“What else?” she asked softly. “What else is in your head?”

Paige was quiet again, but it wasn’t like before. It wasn’t guarded this time—more like she was sifting through the noise, trying to find the right thread to pull on.

“…Just feels like a lot,” she said eventually. “The weight of being perfect. The expectations of staying undefeated. The pressure to show up like I’m bulletproof. The discipline it takes everyday. The diet. The sleep. The timing. You miss one thing and it shows. People think it’s just stepping in the cage and fighting but it’s not. It’s everything leading up to it that’s draining.”

Azzi nodded, even though Paige couldn’t see her. “Do you feel ready? Not physically, I mean. Mentally.”

“Some moments I do. Other moments I’m sitting in the gym at midnight because I convinced myself I’m behind.”

“But you’re not.”

“No,” Paige admitted. “I’m not. But that doesn’t stop my brain from trying to tell me I am.”

Azzi hummed quietly. “That voice’s a bitch.”

Paige let out a surprised laugh at that. “Yeah. She is.”

Azzi’s voice was even gentler now as she asked, “What does she say?”

“That I’m not sharp enough yet. That I’m going to slip. That my timing’s off. That I don’t have it in me to push myself for the next week. That if I lose, it’s over.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Some days.” A short pause. “Other days, I just fight back harder.”

Azzi laid her head back, letting the silence stretch naturally. “You’re fighting it now, aren’t you?”

Paige didn’t respond for a moment. Then she offered up a quiet, “…Yeah.”

Azzi’s voice grew, steady as ever. “Good. Because she doesn’t know who the fuck she’s talking to.”

Paige opened and closed her mouth, like the words were fighting their way out of her. Then finally, she said, “Thanks…for this.”

Azzi blinked, her eyes still on the ceiling. “For what?”

“For listening. Letting me talk,” Paige whispered. “I’ve never really talked about this before.”

Azzi turned her head toward the phone. “Why not?”

Paige let out a faint breath. “Because if I told Cam, or anyone in my family…it’d just scare them. Make them worry even more than they already do. Everyone’s already on edge when I fight. If they knew what goes on in my head before it? It’d eat at them.”

Azzi didn’t respond right away. She just listened and as the silence stretched, Paige took it as permission to keep going.

Her voice was quiet, but steady. “It’s not that I don’t trust them. I do, with my life. But it’s different when you’re the one in it. I don’t need someone to freak out for me. I just need…I don’t know. I guess I just need someone to sit with it without freaking out. Like you’re doing now.”

Azzi’s chest tightened a little. The sincerity in Paige’s voice, the vulnerability she was showing was rare. It made her want to reach through her phone and be there in person for this conversation. “I get that,” Azzi said quietly. “And I don’t mind sitting with it if it helps you.”

There was a soft rustling on the other end, like Paige had finally sat down somewhere. Azzi smiled and said, “Now, drag yourself out of the gym.”

Paige gave a quiet, amused sound. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Azzi teased. “Go put together one of those half-finished LEGO sets you were complaining about.”

Paige snorted. “They’re not half-finished, they’re…momentarily paused.”

“Mmhm,” Azzi said, clearly unconvinced. “Well pause the self-destruction and do something that doesn’t involve you punching a bag all night for once.”

Paige laughed a little but didn’t argue. “Alright. I’ll go build something.”

“You better,” Azzi said, already smiling. “And send me a picture of it so I know you didn’t just crawl in bed with a protein shake and call it a night.”

“You know me too well,” Paige mumbled.

“I’m starting to,” Azzi replied, smiling to herself in the empty hotel room in the middle of Chicago.

As the quiet between them settled into something calmer, Paige’s voice came through again. “Hey…I’m sorry again for going MIA. I just—” She gathers her thoughts. “I should’ve said something,” she added. “You played great the other day, by the way.”

Azzi sat up a little, caught off guard by the statement. “You watched it?”

There was the faintest smile in Paige’s voice when she answered and God Azzi wished she could see it in person. “I did.”

That single admission settled something in Azzi. She pressed further into the pillows and closed her eyes. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Goodnight, Azzi.”

The call ended, but the quiet lingered in Azzi’s room. Different now, almost warmer. Like something small had changed between them after the call.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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klipkillakai · 1 year ago

Note

that ony clip gave me so many butterflies omg 😩 it lowk reminded me of a punishment like what if homegirl went out for the first time in a while and missed the curfew only gave her but he see on sasha and historia ig she’s drunk shaking her ass on the car or smthn 😭😭

ouuu girl it gave me butterflies too, but you ate so lemme walk with you rq 🤭

ony was sitting on the couch rolling his second blunt while an episode of breaking bad plays in the background, he doesn’t usually get to watch this show because you usually like to watch love island or your ghetto ass reality shows that he pretends not to be invested in—

he glances at the time on his phone noting that you should be home soon and he leans back and lights his blunt, taking a hit and throwing his lighter back on the coffee table

he ticks a hand in his sweats and mindlessly smokes and watches his show, another hour passes and he checks his phone again sending you a quick text

baby moms 💙

-wya?

he quickly leaves the text and clicks on insta checking your story but seeing it hasn’t been updated for 2hrs, he quickly scrolls and finds sasha’s and clicks through them and stopping on a video of you, drunkenly singing a song and twerking on another one of your ghetto ass homegirls, ony smacks his teeth quickly standing up

“this fucking girl man” he walks towards the door, and grabs his keys, slipping on his slides and getting in his car and speeding off while trynna call you..

“bend that ass over let that coochie breathe” you slur while slowly whining on your friend as she takes a video of you guys, your having a fucking good ass time, you haven’t been out in ages and you miss it, you begged ony to let you go.. and after days acting sweet and a few blow jobs, he let you, but with rules of course.. he gave you a curfew which you gladly accepted but quickly broke as soon as you got a few shots in you—

you were feeling bold, who was he to tell you what you could and couldn’t do, he wasn’t your daddy! well… not all the time anyway—

your standing in your section in your own world, sipping on your drink until, you feel someone behind you, and a chill runs up your spine cause you know exactly who it is, you turn around and look up at him

“didnt i tell you to come come after 12?”

your heart sinks a bit “yea but i was having fu-

“i don’t give a fuck, i told yo lil’ ass that ion fucking trust this club and you still didn’t listen”

you smack your teeth a bit “papa your being so extra right now, nobody is even-

you feel ony’s large hand wrap around your neck and he leans in a whispers in your ear

“im gon tear yo ass up when we get home” you feel tingles bloom in your lower belly and feel your face get hot—

“tell your lil friends your leaving” you softly nod and turn around grabbing your bags and saying soft byes and sorry’s, while your friends give you knowing looks and soft smiles—

ony grabs your hand and drags you out the club as fast as your heels will let you, quickly opening the door for you, and letting you get in before speeding off once again—

“im just trynna get my paper straight” you hear brent sing as ony pounds ya shit, you let out loud moans and choked sobs, “p-please” you whimper out as you reach behind trynna to press against his stomach, running away from the dick—

“nah move ya hand” he roughly says, quickly grabbing your hand and pressing it against your back, pulling your hair, and starting to drill into you—

“oh my god” you whine, pathetically whimpering letting him just man handle you, letting out his frustrations on you…

“take that shit” he grunts, pounding into you “mhm” he whispers, tightening his grip around your hair

“i c-cant” “p-pa-

he hears you he really does, but he can’t get over this shit, not this time, you need to learn, yo lil ass get real disrespectful and he’s tired of it..

“nah tell them all that shit you was saying in the camera, let them hear all this” he lifts you up and pulls you towards the camera, while still pounding into you

“i-im sorry” you sob “im s-so so sorry papa” “pl-please haaa~ ” you feel the tears rolling down your cheeks, your so overstimulated and he’s so deep inside you.. too deep even, you just need a break

“b-break” you choke out.. “need a break”

“hm baby?” “you need a break” he says mockingly while biting his lips after feeling you tighten around him, “lil ass can’t even handle some dick, you think you finna go out again?” “you crazy mama”

“please!” you moan again, pathetically trying to reach down to rub your clit, to soothe some of the stretch your feeling— god it hurts so good, your eyes nearly roll back into your skull—

“you wanna break?” “here” ony quickly pulls out, breathing heavy, grabbing his phone concluding the punishment he was giving you, you lay on the bed heaving, pussy leaking more slick, your shaking and tired..

ony slaps your ass, and leaves hot kisses down your back “i bet you’ll never do some shit like that again” “right mama?” you just tiredly nod.. he slaps your ass again “let me hear you say it” “p-promise papa” “i won’t do it again” ony nods and slowly slips inside you again, this time giving you slow strokes, and rubbing small circles on your clit.. “mmm~

the rest of the night he takes care of you, ending in mind blowing orgasms, he can never stay mad at you for too long, your still his baby girl..

|a/n|

wait yall!! i’m fucking with this oneeee ouuuu, yall i love me some ony! 🤭

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cutehoons02 · 2 months ago

Text

Speed lovers

*pairing: illegal racer driver Sunghoon x university Girl

*trope: stepbrother and sister/bad boy-good girl

*synopsis: You hated Sunghoon’s family but above all you hated him. Your mother had remarried with Sunghoon’s father and brought you to live with them, against your dream of moving to Paris but there was something even more that you did not tolerate: Sunghoon. It was the representation of the bad boy from fanfiction, cold, cynical and he only cared about him and his illegal racing but you did not know that he had a little sick obsession of you and that you were his favorite little stepsister and loved to tease you and somehow wanted to have you all to himself

*tags: A lot of tension, the protagonist and Sunghoon can’t stand each other, Sunghoon is definitely obsessed with her, they love to tease each other, Sunghoon is slightly a womanizer, description of a car race, lots of kisses, jealousy, manipulation, fake innocent girl, Masturbation, fingering, sucking, unprotected sex (don’t horny ppl) statement, pet names (princess, slut) (idiot,hoon,ice prince) +18,fluffy

12.k (🩶)

(English is not my native language) Jungwon

The front door slammed shut with a dull thud. Sunghoon ran a careless hand through his ice-colored hair as he threw the keys onto the table. The smell of gasoline, smoke, and his expensive cologne still clung to his clothes, the black leather jacket fitting perfectly over his broad shoulders. Another night, another race. Another pile of dirty money was hidden in the secret hideout he shared with his friends, who were also his rivals.

He dropped heavily onto the sofa, legs spread in a relaxed posture, but his eyes immediately locked onto her.

His stepsister was there, curled up on the couch with an iPad in her hands, absorbed in one of her endless fashion websites, while at the same time sketching some of her designs. She was wearing one of those ridiculously short skirts that drove him crazy – and not in a good way. Tonight’s was gray, paired with a pastel pink t-shirt featuring a little bow in the center. Sunghoon sighed, raising an eyebrow.

"Tell me you're at least planning to sleep in pajamas and not in these dresses."

You looked up from the iPad, confused. "What’s your problem now?" you asked, eyeing him.

"Problem? None. But honestly, every time I see you, it feels like I’ve walked into a toy store for little girls."

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s not my fault you don’t understand anything about fashion."

"Oh no, I assure you, I understand perfectly. It’s just that you look like you’ve stepped out of a '90s cartoon—wait, no, more precisely, from one of those mangas."

You shot him a glare before going back to scrolling through the iPad. Sunghoon leaned back against the couch, propping his elbow on the backrest, looking at you with a mischievous smile.

"What are you looking for this time? Another doll outfit? Or maybe some socks with bows?"

You ignored him. He, of course, wasn’t the type to accept silence.

"You know, I wonder if you dress like this just to annoy me."

"And what if I do?" you retorted, raising your gaze challengingly.

Sunghoon smiled slightly. He knew you liked to play, and he was good at it too.

"Then it means you want my attention." You looked at him, disgusted, and rolled your eyes.

"Not even in my worst nightmares." He laughed. Then, without warning, he leaned toward you and brushed his fingers lightly over the hem of your skirt—a light touch, but enough to make you stiffen.

"You should be careful going out dressed like that." You jerked back, eyes wide. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Sunghoon just smiled innocently. "Just a bit of advice. You know how it is... There are men out there who might misunderstand."

"Oh? And you’d be one of them?"

He didn’t answer immediately. He just looked at you, his dark eyes shining in the dim light of the living room. Then, he slid back into a more comfortable position on the couch as if nothing had happened.

"Me?" He ran a hand through his hair casually. "I’m the least of your problems." You stared at him for a moment, lips pressed together. "Speaking of problems... I know you have a bit of an obsession with cars."

Your tone was light, but Sunghoon caught the suspicious undertone. "So?"

"So… I’ve heard some rumors. People say there’s someone in town who races at night. Underground races. Big money deals." Sunghoon tilted his head, amused. "And you believe every rumor, princess?"

"Not when they involve just anyone. But when they involve you… yeah. I wouldn’t be surprised if, underneath that facade, you’re just a thug."

He was silent for a moment. Then, he leaned in again, too close. His face was just a few inches from yours.

"You know, you could even scare me if you weren’t so adorably annoying and curious about what I do." You blushed slightly at the proximity but didn’t pull back. "And you could seem innocent with that rich-kid aura if you weren’t a damn delinquent."

Sunghoon smiled again, that look of his promising nothing good. "Well, it looks like we’re both screwed." And with that, he stood up, leaving you there, heart pounding too fast and too many thoughts running through your head.

The light from the phone illuminated T/l’s face, Jungwon’s girlfriend and a university journalist, as she scrolled through the videos saved in her gallery.

"Here it is. Look." You hesitated, reaching out, but as soon as the screen showed the images, your heart sank.

The video was shot with a phone, probably amidst the crowd. The neon lights illuminated the asphalt, and the shouts of the people drowned out the deafening roar of the engines. The shaky shot moved to the makeshift podium, where Sunghoon raised a trophy with an arrogant smile. He wore his usual leather jacket, his ice-colored hair ruffled by the wind, and the adrenaline still visible in his gaze. He looked different. Not the usual guy who liked teasing you at home, but someone dangerous, untouchable, and attractive. Then it happened, a girl made her way through the crowd and climbed up beside him. She was exactly his type: long legs, tiny shorts, heavy makeup. The opposite of you.

He barely looked at her before she took his face in her hands and kissed him. The entire crowd screamed in delirium as if it were a scene from a movie. Sunghoon let her, even kissing her back for a few seconds, before pulling away with an amused smile, and your stomach tightened. You rolled your eyes and handed the phone back to T/l.

'Don’t tell me you’re jealous,' she said, laughing, raising an eyebrow and offering a mischievous grin.

"Me? Jealous?" you forced a laugh. "Please."

Yet, there was something that bothered you. Not because you wanted Sunghoon—he was your damn stepbrother—but the thought of him letting those girls touch him, girls so different from you, sparked an inexplicable irritation inside you.

'It’s not exactly the safest place in the world, you know? The first time I went, if it hadn’t been for Jungwon, I would’ve been busted by the cops. Those races aren’t just races. People bet, there are fights, and the police could show up at any moment... Sunghoon’s one of the best, but it’s still dangerous, and he’s not the type of guy you should be with.'

You looked away, biting your lip. Dangerous. That word described Sunghoon perfectly.

That night, at home, you couldn’t stop thinking about that video. You were sitting on the couch, knees drawn to your chest, still wearing your usual skirt and a white hoodie. You stared at the black phone screen, almost afraid to open that video again.

"Are you always this thoughtful, or is it just when I come home?"

You jumped. Sunghoon was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, a smile somewhere between amused and suspicious. His hair was still messy, and his dark eyes shone under the dim light of the living room.

"What do you want?" You tried to sound indifferent.

"You." — he replied, chuckling when he saw your shocked expression. "Calm down, I’m joking. But seriously, what’s going on with you?"

You hesitated. Should you tell him you knew about the races? About the video? And the illegal things he did every weekend?

"Nothing," you said with a forced smile. He raised an eyebrow. He didn’t believe you and slowly moved closer until he sat down beside you on the couch. He stretched his arm over the backrest, leaning in slightly, and now you were too close to him.

"You’re always so strange, but tonight, it’s even worse."

"I’m not strange," you said, glaring at him. He leaned in even more, bringing his face closer to yours. "Then why won’t you look me in the eyes?"

You swallowed. Damn, he always knew how to make you uncomfortable.

"I don’t have anything to say to you, why should I look you in the face?"

"Oh no?" — he tilted his head. "What if I told you I know that you’ve figured me out?"

Your heart skipped a beat. "What am I supposed to have figured out about you?"

"Come on, princess, you’re not good at hiding things. You paled as soon as I looked at you."

You bit your lip, trying to stay calm. Sunghoon was too smart not to realize that you knew something.

"I saw a video." He tensed slightly, but the smile didn’t fade. "Which one of many?"

"Of you on the podium." You saw him clench his jaw, his gaze darkening.

"While you were getting money with that girl." Silence. Then, suddenly, Sunghoon burst out laughing.

"Wait..." he ran a hand through his hair, confused but amused. "Are you telling me you’re mad because you saw me with a girl and not because I race and take money illegally?"

"NO!" you answered quickly, too quickly.

"Sure, sure. Then explain to me why you have that face."

"Because you’re disgusting, that’s why!" He stopped, raising an eyebrow. Interesting. "Oh really? Why should I be disgusting? I’m 22, everyone our age does things!"

"You go around kissing those... those..." You were searching for the right words, but you were too angry.

"Those?" he leaned even closer, his face only a few inches from yours. "Tell me, princess, how would you define them?" You felt trapped. His gaze was burning, amused, and provocative.

"It doesn’t matter." You looked away. He tilted his head with a devilish smile. "You know, I didn’t think you were the jealous type."

"I’m not jealous." He laughed again because you were so small compared to him.

"Oh, sure you are, you’re adorable when you’re annoyed."

"Fuck you." He shook his head, amused, before leaning in and whispering in your ear:

"You’re too sweet to say such words." A shiver ran down your spine. Damn Sunghoon, and whoever invented him. You stood up from the couch and went to your room, which was the only place in the world where Sunghoon never entered. It was as if he were afraid to step into that sanctuary of innocence that was your bedroom, and if he ever did, he would ruin you and bend you to his sick, twisted pleasures.

"Tell me again, why am I doing this crazy thing?"

You were standing in front of the mirror in T/l's room, nervously tugging at the hem of your skirt. She, on the other hand, was completely at ease, sitting on the bed as she applied lip gloss to her lips.

'Because you're curious.' she replied with a mischievous yet friendly smile. 'And because you want to see for yourself if your brother is the racing devil.'

You turned sharply and threw a pillow at her face. "He's not my brother."

'Oh, sorry. Your stepbrother, with whom you've been living for two years and who can’t stop giving you dirty looks and would like to make you his, in any way possible."

"He doesn't give me dirty looks! And he doesn't want to make me his. If I didn't exist, that'd be better for him."

'Sure, right. We all know he has a soft spot for you and has seriously told you not to mess around or behave badly because sooner or later, he'd find out.'

You huffed, avoiding a reply. You weren’t there for Sunghoon. You just wanted to understand why those races had such a dangerous allure for him. When you arrived at the parking lot, Jungwon was already there, leaning against his car with his usual cheerful smile.

-Finally! I thought you were gonna bail on me- he said to T/l, hugging her and kissing her on the forehead. Then he turned to you with curiosity. -And this is your friend?-

T/l nodded, smiling. 'Yes! It’s her first time coming to a race, so try not to scare her.'

Jungwon laughed while fastening his seatbelt and kissed T/l lightly on the lips. -Don’t worry, you know I’m the harmless one of the group-

And he was right. He had a completely different energy from Sunghoon: cheerful, carefree, respectful, and you could see how he looked at T/l—he was deeply in love with her. He immediately made you feel at ease, without that annoying tension you always felt around Sunghoon. But that calm didn’t last long.

When you arrived at the racing area, you felt your stomach tighten. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of gasoline, the neon lights illuminating the faces of strangers, all with the same excited and adrenaline-hungry look. The cars, perfect and shiny, were parked in a line, ready to compete. It was another world, Sunghoon's world.

-Hey, stick with T/l- Jungwon came over and gave you a small hug as if to reassure you. A simple gesture, but so different from Sunghoon. -Jay will be here soon. He’ll keep an eye on you, okay?-

You both nodded, but before he could add anything else, a familiar voice rang out through the chaos of the crowd.

"What the hell are you doing here, Y/n?!"

Your body stiffened at the sight of Sunghoon pushing his way through the crowd, his dark eyes locked on you with pure fury. He was wearing his usual leather jacket, his ice-colored hair tousled, and his dangerous gaze with an aura that exuded charm, but also unease.

-Wow, wow. Calm down, man- Jungwon raised his hands in surrender, confused. -You know Y/n? She’s T/l’s friend-

Sunghoon ignored the question and moved closer to you, grabbing your wrist with a force that didn’t hurt but made it clear he was pissed.

"Come with me."

'Sunghoon, leave her alone! We came together to enjoy the race.' T/l intervened.

"Shut up," he growled, not even looking at her, and Jungwon stepped in front of you and his girl. -Don’t talk to T/l like that, Sunghoon. Do we understand each other? What’s the problem if Y/n comes to watch an illegal race?-

Sunghoon finally turned toward him, a cold smile on his face. "The problem is that you brought my stepsister to a place where she shouldn’t be." Jungwon’s face darkened. He understood everything in an instant.

-She’s...?-

"Yes," Sunghoon replied furiously. He had never imagined seeing you in his territory and hated seeing you so beautiful in the eyes of everyone, especially dangerous people.

Jungwon seemed to bite a curse between his teeth. Then he turned to T/l with a look that said (You should have told me earlier, right?)

'I didn’t think it was a problem...' murmured T/l, uncertain.

Sunghoon laughed, with no trace of amusement. "It’s not a problem. It’s THE problem."

You lifted your chin, trying not to be intimidated. "You’re not my guardian, Sunghoon." He stared at you, his pupils as dark as night. "Too bad you’re under my roof, so it’s my business."

Jungwon sighed. -Listen, man. I didn’t want to put her in danger. I’m keeping an eye on her, and Jay will be here soon.-

Sunghoon scoffed, not letting go of your wrist. He was furious.

"No," he said quietly. "She’s coming with me."

"And what if I don’t want to?" you hissed, struggling to free yourself. He looked down at you, his face coming a little closer to yours. Too close.

"You’re gonna force me to show you the side of me you don’t want to know, bitch."

Your heart was pounding in your chest. Damn Sunghoon. Damn this place. Damn you, for knowing this wouldn’t end well. You jerked free from Sunghoon’s grip, your chest rising and falling with anger.

"I’m not going with you." you hissed, looking him straight in the eyes. "I don’t trust you."

His gaze darkened, his bottom lip twitching slightly as if holding something back.

"Say that again?" he said, glaring at you furiously.

You swallowed. You knew you were provoking him, but you were tired of pretending his possessive attitude didn’t get on your nerves.

"I said I don’t trust you." T/l immediately grabbed your arm, trying to calm the situation. 'Hoon, come on, don’t overreact. We’re just here to watch the race, and Jay will be here soon.'

He didn’t answer. He was still staring at you with those dark, piercing eyes, so intense you felt glued to the ground. Finally, the tension broke when a familiar voice made its way through the crowd.

<<Oh, look who we have here!>> Jay said, approaching with his usual confident smile, a girl by his side. He was dressed similarly to Sunghoon, leather jacket, and dark jeans, but he had a more relaxed, friendly vibe and held Jay’s hand tightly in his.

<<Tonight is full of new faces,>> he commented, looking at you with interest before his gaze shifted to Sunghoon. <<Problems?>>

Sunghoon took a deep breath as if trying to control himself. Then he ran a hand through his hair and responded in a low voice,

"She's with you, Jay," Sunghoon said to the guy with the sharp jawline.

Jay raised an eyebrow, then turned to you and T/l. <<Oh, so you’re under my supervision?>>

"Don’t exaggerate," Sunghoon retorted with a smirk. "I just want to make sure no one lays a hand on her."

Jay stood up, shaking his head, and Sunghoon ignored him, moving closer to whisper something in Jay’s ear. When he approached Jay, his best friend, his tone dropped lower and became sharper.

"Keep an eye on her. If anyone tries anything with her, I’ll make them regret it. But most importantly..." he paused briefly, casting a glance at you before continuing. "I want to know if she’s staring at anyone. If she looks too much at a guy if she smiles too much at someone... if she seems interested in anyone."

Jay suppressed a laugh. <<What are you, her stalker?>> he said, laughing.

"No," Sunghoon replied with a slow, dangerous smile. "I’m the biggest problem for anyone who thinks they can have her."

Jay shook his head, amused. <<You’re really beyond help!>>

Then Sunghoon turned toward Jungwon, his opponent for the night. The two exchanged a glance, mutual respect mixed with fierce competition.

You tried to listen, but the music and the chaos of the crowd drowned everything out.

When Sunghoon walked away from Jay, he seemed more relaxed. He greeted you with that usual malicious smile, the one that only meant one thing: "We’ll talk about this later." You felt a shiver run down your spine.

The air was thick with the smell of gasoline and burnt tires. The crowd was buzzing, shouting names, placing bets, and the engines roared like beasts ready to be unleashed. You were there, standing next to Jay, his girlfriend, and T/l, your heart racing as you watched the cars lined up at the starting line.

Sunghoon was in his car, a Nero Phantom, the name he had given his vehicle. Black as night, with almost invisible dark stripes under the streetlights, it seemed like a moving shadow, a ghost on the road. No one knew how fast it was, except for those unlucky enough to have raced against him.

Jay leaned slightly toward you, his usual sly smile on his lips. <<Ready to see why they call him Ice Prince?>>

You turned to him, confused. "Ice Prince?"

Jay nodded. <<Yeah, Sunghoon is the coldest of them all. He’s not afraid of anything or anyone, not even Heeseung, who’s the strongest around here. While the others lose their heads, he stays ice-cold. He never makes a mistake. And when he drives...>> he gestured toward the track, <<it’s like time stops for him.>>

You turned again toward Sunghoon, who had by now lowered his car window, showing a confident smile before focusing back on the road.

The traffic light signaled the way and in an instant, the cars shot off, like bullets fired into the darkness.

Sunghoon's Nero Phantom took the lead immediately, but Jungwon was right behind, glued to his bumper. The first stretch was a long straightaway, where speed mattered more than technique. Sunghoon’s engine roared as he shifted gears, gaining an advantage over the others.

But then came the first turn. This was where the difference between a good driver and a champion showed. Jungwon tried to pass on the inside, squeezing into the small space left by Sunghoon. But Sunghoon didn’t leave any room. At the last second, he turned with surgical precision, braking later than seemed possible, making the car slide just enough to close the trajectory.

"Dammit... he’s insane," you muttered without realizing it.

Jay looked at you, laughing. <<Told you. He never messes up.>>

But Jungwon didn’t give up. He moved to the outside, trying to cut off Sunghoon in the acceleration, but Sunghoon anticipated him again. Cold. Sharp. Calculating. At every turn, every braking point, he seemed to play with the other drivers, as if he already knew what they were going to do before they did it. He passed with chilling confidence, without hesitation. It was like he was dancing on the road.

The last turn was the finishing blow. Heeseung, who was in third place, tried to attack both of them, risking everything, but Sunghoon did something insane: instead of defending, he let Heeseung pass for a second, only to cut the trajectory and pass him again on the exit of the curve.

'What a son of a bitch...' T/l hissed, incredulous. You couldn’t even speak. It was hypnotizing watching him drive. And when his car crossed the finish line first, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. Sunghoon Park had won. Again. But while everyone expected him to get out of the car to collect his reward, he did something unexpected.

He got out of the car calmly, his hands stuffed into his leather jacket pockets. His face showed no emotion as if it had just been another normal night. He barely lifted his chin and without saying a word, he gestured for Jay to go collect the money in his place.

<<Wait, aren’t you taking them?>> Jay asked, surprised. Sunghoon didn’t respond, and his eyes were already locked on you. In that instant, you realized that for you, the night wasn’t over.

Before you could say anything, before you could even move, he was already in front of you. He grabbed your wrist, not squeezing too tightly, but enough to make you realize that you had no choice.

"Come with me," he said

"Let me go, Sunghoon!" you protested, trying to free yourself from his grip. But he didn’t slow down. He was stronger. More determined. He didn’t care if you were struggling, didn’t care if you glared at him. He dragged you without any.

"I told you to let me go!" you insisted, trying to plant your feet on the ground.

Sunghoon stopped suddenly and looked down at you, his dark eyes filled with irritation. His expression sent chills down your spine.

"If you keep throwing a tantrum, I might get pissed off," he said, his voice calm on the surface, but there was danger hiding in his words.

You swallowed, feeling your heart pound in your chest. But you would never give him the satisfaction of letting him see that his tone had rattled you.

"You know what? You're just a bully, Sunghoon. You like to boss people around, deciding what I should do when I should do it, and you think everyone should bend to your will."

A sharp smile appeared on his lips as he moved a little closer. Too close.

"Oh, really?" he murmured, lowering his face until it brushed against your ear. "Strange. Because every time I take your hand, you come with me."

Your breath caught. Was it true? Was he manipulating you? Or was it just his confidence that made you follow him as if he knew exactly how to make you do what he wanted?

Before you could respond, you turned to the passenger seat and slammed the door shut with a quick gesture.

"Try to move, and you'll see what I’ll do," he whispered through the window, his tone low and dangerous.

You bit your lip, crossing your arms in anger as you watched him walk around the car and get into the driver's side.

As soon as the door slammed shut, the engine roared like a beast freed from its cage. He didn’t even give you time to buckle your seatbelt.

He slammed the accelerator without warning, and the car shot forward like a missile, making you bump lightly against the seat. The asphalt beneath you turned into a dark river, the streetlights stretching like glowing trails as the speedometer climbed rapidly.

100 km/h. 120. 150. You didn’t take your eyes off him. You weren’t scared.

Sunghoon didn’t flinch.

He glanced at you sideways, his black eyes glowing in the dashboard light. He was studying you.

"Aren't you scared?" he asked, his voice calmer, though the danger was still there.

You raised your chin in defiance. "Should I be?" His smile slowly widened. Cold. Sharp.

"Usually, good girls like you start whining when I go too fast. They beg me to slow down. They beg me to stop."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I’m not like the other girls you hang out with."

Sunghoon made a strange sound. "Oh, I know that very well."

180 km/h. 190. 200. The engine roared, and the speed pressed you against the seat, but the real jolt came when he turned completely toward you, his eyes burning with something dark.

"You’re not like them… but that doesn't mean you can do whatever you want."

You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t have the time. Sunghoon suddenly swerved and turned the car onto a quiet, isolated side street, away from the rest of the city.

The roar of the engine faded as he slowed down, coming to a complete stop. The only sound left was your rapid breathing.

You quickly turned toward him, ready to shout at him, but you didn’t get the chance. Sunghoon turned quickly and brushed his thumb over your lips. A light touch. But it froze the blood in your veins.

"You've been a bad girl tonight," he murmured, his voice low and dark. "And I don't like that."

For a moment, you stared at him in silence, then a sarcastic laugh escaped your lips.

"Oh? Strange, because judging by the type of girls I see you with, they seem to be just your type."

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his smile becoming slow and dangerous.

"What type?"

"The ones who come to watch you race. The ones all bold, with skimpy clothes and a deadpan look." You looked him straight in the eyes. "The bad girls who drool over you."

"And does that bother you?"

"Not at all," you said, crossing your arms. It was a lie. And he knew it right away.

"Mmm," he nodded slowly. He was watching you. Analyzing every reaction, then shaking his head with a smile.

"I don't like liars either."

He lowered his gaze. His fingers slid slowly over the bare skin of your thigh, tracing small circles. It was at that moment that your breath truly stopped.

"You see..." he continued in a low voice, his thumb still brushing your lips. "I like having control. And I like it even more when someone tries to challenge me."

You bit your lip, trying to ignore the shiver running down your spine.

"It’s not a lie," you insisted, crossing your arms in defiance. "I wasn’t jealous at all."

Sunghoon studied you with an unreadable look, his black eyes seeming to dig into you. But you didn’t let him win.

"And anyway, you're not even my type," you turned to look at him, and slowly, an arrogant smile curved his lips.

"Oh no? Then tell me, what kind of guys do you like?"

You raised your chin proudly. "Good guys. Polite, respectful, romantic. Not the ones who spend their nights racing down the streets like they're invincible."

Sunghoon’s eyes darkened. He didn’t like what you were saying.

"My ex..." you whispered, but at the same time, Sunghoon heard you, and you didn’t even finish the sentence. Sunghoon moved so quickly that you barely noticed.

He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"I don’t want to hear any other asshole's name come out of your mouth," he hissed.

He was jealous. You realized it right away. It was subtle, but you saw it in the details: his clenched jaw, the veins in his tense hands, his strong grip on the steering wheel just moments before.

A shiver of realization ran down your spine. You tilted your head slightly and looked at him with a spark of mischievous amusement.

"Wait a minute..." you murmured with a provocative smile. "Are you jealous?"

Sunghoon didn’t answer. But the way his gaze became lethal gave you the confirmation, and you decided to strike.

"Does it bother you that someone else had me all to himself before you?"

It was a moment. A blink of an eye.

Sunghoon faltered. For a second, he seemed to lose control, as if your words had ignited a fire in his stomach he couldn’t tame, and then, without warning, he crashed his mouth against yours.

The kiss was neither sweet nor gentle. It was fierce, burning, angry.

His lips moved over yours with a searing intensity, as if he wanted to brand you, make you his, erase with one touch the memory of any other guy. He grabbed you by the back of your neck, his fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, leaving you no escape.

You lost your breath. It was too much. Too intense, too violent, too much him. His hands never left you, not for a second. One held you firmly by the waist, and the other slid down your back, pressing you against him with an almost desperate urgency.

He was thirsty. For you. For everything that you were. And he didn’t even give you time to catch your breath before biting your lower lip. Hard. Possessive. A muffled moan escaped your lips, and Sunghoon immediately took the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth, claiming you entirely.

"Say my name," he ordered against your lips, his voice hoarse and low.

You looked at him, your breath still uneven. He didn’t want just to kiss you. He wanted to be the only one. The only one to make you tremble. The only one who could push you this far, but you wouldn’t make it easy for him.

"Why should I?" you murmured, trying to hide the frantic beating of your heart. Sunghoon smiled. But it wasn’t a kind smile.

"Then I’ll have to make you change your mind."

And before you could reply, he kissed you again, harder, greedier.

Sunghoon pulled away slowly, letting his warm breath brush against your reddened lips. His eyes were fixed on yours, as black as the night, burning with a satisfied and dangerous fire.

Then, a sharp smile curled his lips. "I’m not your type, huh?" he whispered, tilting his head in amusement. "Strange, because you seemed to enjoy my kiss quite a lot."

Your heart did a flip. That bastard. You turned away abruptly, turning your face to the side to hide the blush rising to your cheeks. Your breath was still uneven, your lips were swollen and warm from the kiss he had stolen so violently.

"What’s wrong? Now you’re being shy?" His tone was provocative, his eyes full of amusement. "Strange, because just a minute ago you seemed pretty… involved."

You clenched your fists. You would never give him the satisfaction of seeing you crumble. "You’re an idiot," you hissed. He shrugged, still wearing that annoying smile.

"Maybe." He reached for the ignition, but before starting the car, he leaned in again, his face only inches from yours.

"I suggest you get some rest tonight," he murmured against your skin. "Because tomorrow, it will be quite a problem for you to look me in the eyes without thinking about what happened."

Sunghoon stayed in the car for a moment after he dropped you off at home. That little smirk still on his lips, you had retreated to your room like a frightened fawn. Too late, too late to escape from him. He knew now you would do nothing but think about that kiss. His touches. His hands on you. Him.

He ran his tongue over his lips, still swollen from the fierce kiss he had given you that had made you tremble. He had felt your breath become irregular, your fingers subconsciously gripping him, and that drove him crazy.

You had tried to provoke him, to challenge him, but he had won, and now, in the days that followed, it would be fun to see how long you would resist before breaking, before admitting that you didn’t hate him, that you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

You avoided Sunghoon like the plague: If you were in the living room and he walked in, you’d find an excuse to leave; if you heard him in the kitchen, you’d wait for him to leave before going down. You didn’t look at him. You didn’t speak to him. You pretended he didn’t exist, but he wasn’t someone who accepted being ignored.

That night, your pencil slid across the paper, tracing delicate and precise lines. The clock showed 1:12 AM, and the silence in the house was almost deafening. Your fingers were dirty with charcoal, and your eyes were tired, but your passion for fashion kept you awake.

You stiffened immediately. Your parents were out of town, and the house should have been empty. A shiver ran down your spine, and your heart began to beat hard against your ribs as you slowly stood up from the chair. You grabbed one of the scissors you used for fabric and, with light steps, made your way to your bedroom door. You poked your head out slightly and saw him.

Sunghoon was leaning against the wall, one hand pressed against his side, his face lowered. Blood dripped from a cut above his eyebrow, and his lips, red and swollen, looked like they’d been hit. His white shirt had some dark stains that didn’t look good.

It wasn’t the first time you saw him come back in bad shape, but this time it seemed worse.

“Sunghoon?” Your voice was more uncertain than you wanted, and he slowly lifted his gaze, and despite his battered face, his lips curled into a cheeky smile. “Oh, my little sister is still awake, how sweet.” A knot tightened in your stomach, and you slowly walked closer to him. “What happened to you?”

He sighed and tried to move, but stumbled on the stairs. You instinctively grabbed his arm to steady him. His body was warm, and his scent was a mix of leather, gasoline, and metal.

“There’s no need to touch me, little one. I know you can’t stand me.” You looked at him carefully and sighed because he was acting like an idiot.

“You’ve got blood all over your face, idiot! I can’t just ignore it!”

Sunghoon chuckled softly but quickly stopped with a slight groan. “You know what you are?” he muttered as you guided him to the living room. “A little angel with a sharp tongue, and someone should put you in your place.”

“And you’re an idiot,” you said as you gently pushed him onto the couch, and he collapsed with a heavy sigh. You opened the bathroom cabinet to get the first-aid kit while he watched you with his usual mischievous look.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you snapped as you returned to him.

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “I like it when you worry about me.”

You blushed but tried to ignore him. You grabbed a cotton ball and soaked it with disinfectant. “This is going to hurt.”

“You’re not very gentle, you know?” he said as he watched you touch his face.

You pressed the cotton onto his wound, and he grimaced, clenching his teeth. “Shit… you could’ve at least warned me.”

“I did.” Sunghoon looked at you with a challenging smile. “Are you always this stubborn?”

“Are you always this reckless?” you retorted, continuing to dab at his eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”

He shrugged, apparently unfazed. “Business.”

“Illegal business, you mean.”

“Princess, you know I can’t tell you anything.”

“And you know I hate when you call me that.” He gave a sly smile. “And that’s exactly why I do it.”

You slapped him lightly on the injured shoulder, and he groaned.

“Okay, okay, calm down! You’re violent for being a little princess with cute skirts and bows.”

You shot him a glare. “And you’re really stupid for being a successful pilot.”

Sunghoon laughed, his dark gaze locked on yours. “Admit it, though… if it weren’t for me, your life would be boring.”

“If it weren’t for you, my life would be normal,” you replied, pressing the bandage against his wound. “And maybe I’d be in Paris chasing my dream, instead of spending nights cleaning the blood of my idiot stepbrother.”

Sunghoon stopped smiling. “Paris, huh?”

You nodded without looking at him. “Paris.”

There was a brief silence. Then, his voice dropped lower. “And when were you planning to tell me?”

You looked up at him, finding him more serious than usual. “It’s none of your business, Sunghoon.”

He nodded slowly, then leaned slightly forward, shortening the distance between you. “No, but it concerns me that I want to see how long you can keep pretending.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What are you talking about?”

His lips curled into a half-dangerous smile. “You know very well.”

Your heart was in your throat. He wasn’t just a problem—he was the problem. And you knew that no matter how hard you tried to escape, Sunghoon would never truly let you go.

After finishing disinfecting his face, you looked at him and said, “Hoon, you need to wash up. I can’t disinfect you if you’re still covered in blood and dirt.”

He ran his tongue over his lips, the usual provocative smirk still on his face, despite the cut above his eyebrow. “Then strip me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Not.” He flopped more comfortably on the couch, spreading his legs carelessly. “I’m too tired to move. If you want me to wash, you’ll have to help me.” You bit your lip, unsure whether to answer him or just ignore him. But he knew you too well and knew that eventually, you’d give in. “No way, Sunghoon.”

He raised an eyebrow, licking his lower lip as his gaze analyzed you. “Then I’ll wait all night. But you’re not going anywhere.”

You swallowed. He always threw these challenges at you, and you hated admitting that you always ended up accepting them. With slightly trembling hands, you reached for the edge of his bloodstained shirt. You felt his muscles tense under the fabric as you slowly lifted it. Sunghoon didn’t move, didn’t say anything, but his gaze was fixed on you as if savoring every little reaction.

Once you removed the shirt, revealing his warm skin, marked by scratches and bruises, you held your breath.

“Now the pants,” he said, amused. You froze. “You’re a pervert, Sunghoon.”

He smiled slyly. “And you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

You gritted your teeth, trying not to give him the satisfaction. Slowly, you unbuttoned the pants and unzipped them, carefully avoiding looking him in the eyes. You slid the jeans down his legs until he was left in just his tight Supreme boxers, tight enough to make you quickly look away.

You stood up abruptly, your cheeks burning. “I’ll go get your bath ready, come wash up.”

He got up calmly, walking toward the bathroom with a confidence that irritated you. You watched him enter the bathroom, and he looked at you when he put his hands in his boxers to pull them down. You quickly looked down at the floor, finding it very interesting while he stepped into the bathtub. You bit the inside of your cheek. You needed to leave immediately, but as you turned to go, he whispered:

“Stay here.”

His voice stopped you before you could reach the door. You slowly turned around. “Why should I?”

He leaned against the edge of the tub, his messy hair falling into his face still dry, his gaze darker than usual. “Wash my hair,” he said as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“Sunghoon—”

“Don’t bother saying no.” You huffed, crossing your arms. “You know you’re unbearable, right?” He chuckled softly. "And you know that, if someone other than me asked you, you’d do it without complaining."

You couldn't agree with him, but you knew you’d never deny help to someone who was hurt. You approached the tub, kneeling next to him. Your hands sank into his hair, and slowly you began to lather it. It was soft under your fingers, silent. It was so rare to see Sunghoon so calm. All you could hear were your breaths and the faint sound of the water flowing.

Your fingers moved more gently, massaging his scalp. He closed his eyes, tilting his head slightly towards you. Then, a sound made you stop—a moan. He whispered your name, almost as if it slipped out of his lips, and you stiffened, your heart pounding in your chest. Only then did you understand why he had loved making you moan his name that night of the kiss? It was a sound that went under your skin, that made something tremble inside.

After washing his hair and leaving him there to relax, you returned to your room, your heart still racing from everything that had just happened. You sat on the bed, trying to catch your breath. Why did Sunghoon always put you in such uncomfortable situations?

After a while, you heard the door open. Sunghoon entered the room, with only a towel draped over his shoulders and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His silver hair, still damp, fell over his eyes, giving him an even more disheveled and sexy look than usual.

Without saying anything, he sat on your bed, grabbing the hairdryer from your nightstand.

"Dry my hair," he said, taking the towel off his shoulders. You swallowed at the sight of his toned body and stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Sorry?" He lay back slightly, resting on one elbow and crossing his legs as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You washed my hair, now finish the job."

You huffed, crossing your arms. "You're acting like a spoiled child, Sunghoon."

He smiled to the side. "And you like a good, caring little sister."

"I'm not your damn little sister." His eyes lit up with mischief. "No? Then why are you so cute when you take care of me?"

"You're impossible," you said, staring at him.

He chuckled and waved the hairdryer at you. "Come on, hurry up."

You sighed heavily, grabbing the dryer and turning it on. You approached him, trying to keep a safe distance, but in an instant, Sunghoon grabbed you by the waist and pulled you onto his lap.

"Hey!" you protested, trying to wiggle free. He held you in place with one hand on your back. "This is more comfortable."

Your heart raced in your chest. You could feel his breath against your skin, his big hands resting securely on your hips. Why did he always play with you like this?

You tried to ignore the heat you felt everywhere and began drying his hair. Your fingers moved delicately through his locks, and Sunghoon closed his eyes, enjoying every touch. After a while, a satisfied sigh escaped his lips.

"Your hands are magical, you know?" he murmured, with a small smile.

You blushed slightly. "Shut up." You turned off the dryer and tried to get off his lap, but his hands stopped you immediately. He looked you straight in the eyes, his gaze now deeper, more serious.

"Where do you think you're going?" You swallowed. "I’m done." He shook his head. "I’m not."

And before you could understand what he meant, his lips crashed onto yours again. A hungry, possessive kiss. As if he had been waiting for that moment for far too long. His hands gripped your hips firmly, pulling you even closer to him, making you feel every tense muscle beneath you. You moaned against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, nibbling your lower lip to make you shudder.

"Tell me," he whispered between kisses, his voice hoarse. "Can I make you feel good?"

Your brain is short-circuited. "W-What?"

"You took care of me, now let me take care of you." You bit your lip, feeling the heat spread everywhere. You had never seen Sunghoon so intense, so focused on you, and part of you wanted to run away, but another part was tired of denying what you felt for him.

"Yes..." you whispered barely audibly. Sunghoon smiled against your lips. "Good girl."

Sunghoon made you lie in your bed and your breath was broken, your heartbeat gone mad. Every inch of your skin burned under his attentions, Hoon licked, bit, left marks on your sensitive skin, every bite a mark, every sound that escaped from your lips a further victory for him and laughed against your breast, licking it with exasperating slowness. "So sensitive... and I haven’t done anything yet," he said as he nibbled lightly on your sensitive bud full of his spit. His voice was a harsh whisper, almost a restrained roar. His dark eyes shone with mischief and desire and he touched your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Tell me, what would you do if you saw my cock? Or even worse..." he stooped down, nibbling at your abdomen as his fingers fiddled with your pajama strap, "if it was already inside you?"

A shiver ran through your back when with a single tug he stripped you of both pants and panties. You heard him whistle softly, his eyes fixed on your wet and pulsating center. "Christ, look how you shine... you’re all for me, aren’t you?"

The tip of his finger traced a slow path along your folds, the touch light but devastating. When he pinched your clitoris, your body bowed against him, the fingers sinking between his ice-colored tufts and groaning at his name.

"So responsive..." he whispered, almost amused, before licking you with an exasperating delicacy. "Tell me, do you want me to continue or should I stop here?"

He didn’t even give you time to answer before a finger slid into you, causing you to hold your breath. Hoon grinned at your skin, the eyes burning with pure worship and perversion.

"Damn, I love the way you hold me..."

You said in a low voice "Oh God..." When you felt his tongue biting and licking your clitoris but at the same time pumping into your center your mind was completely clouded.

Hoon wouldn’t stop sucking your clitoris, his sinful tongue playing with you with exasperating slowness, almost as if he wanted to see how far you could resist before begging. The truth? You wouldn’t last much longer.

"Are you feeling well, princess?" His husky voice vibrated against your sensitive skin, making you shiver. "Because you seem to be on the verge of going crazy..."

Asshole. He knew you were on the verge of pleasure and was enjoying every second of your surrender.

You felt him smile at you as he stuck another finger into your hot and pulsating flesh, increasing the rhythm of the thrusts. The contrast between his tongue working on your clitoris and his fingers filling you slowly made you lose control.

"H-Hoon..." your groan was almost a hiccup, fingers clinging to his silvery hair in a desperate attempt to restrain you.

"Mmmh, I love the way you say my name when you’re about to come."

Those words were your ruin. Your body bowed, shaken with pleasure, as you came violently between his lips and fingers. He held you still as you enjoyed every spasm of your orgasm, his gaze glued to you as if he wanted to imprint in his memory the image of you so vulnerable under him.

"Damnation..." he whispered, passing his tongue over your moist lips, his eyes shining with something primordial. "You’re so small, so helpless beneath me... I could take you any way I want."

A shiver ran through your back. The way he said it... the confidence with which he spoke as if it were already written in the destiny that would happen. And you knew he wanted it as much as you did.

You bit your lip, your heart still hammering in your chest as you looked at it with your eyes half-closed. "Then why don’t you?" Whispers, your tone a challenge veiled by sweetness.

Hoon chuckled softly, but his eyes became darker. He approached you, making his body adhere to yours, and the contact of his erection against your skin still hypersensitive made you shudder.

"Not yet." His whisper sent a shiver down your spine. "When I make you mine, I want you to be able to think of nothing but me."

That promise made you tighten your thighs, the desire to be dangerously rekindled. " Presumptuous." You mumbled, trying not to show how much those words had struck you.

But then you noticed something that made you come back to reality: his eyes, still lucid from the pain of the fight. Although his body was strong and imposing, the wounds on his face and arms reminded him that he was not invincible. You bit your lip, then, without thinking, you pushed it slowly on the bed, making it lie down.

"What the hell are you doing?" he mumbled, raising an eyebrow as your breath tickled his skin. You looked down at his wounds, then met his eyes again, and smiled at him, sweet but with a touch of malice. " I’m taking care of you..." whispers, lowering yourself to leave a light kiss on a scratch on his jaw. "Once again."

Hoon snorted, but he didn’t move. "I don’t need you."

"Shhh..." You put a finger on his lips, making him raise an eyebrow. "I didn’t ask your permission."

His eyes shrank into a dark flame of interest as your lips left a kiss trail down his chest, descending slowly toward the abs. You felt his muscles twitch under your touch, his breath became heavier.

"You know you’re dangerous, don’t you?" he muttered, his voice lower, more scratched. "You drive me crazy," he said with a hand in his still-wet hair.

"Oh, that’s right." And you left another kiss right above the belt of his pants where there was his navel, enjoying the tension that grew in his body.

The sun filtered shyly through the curtains, gently illuminating the room. Hoon slowly opened his eyes, his body still numb from sleep, and the first thing he saw was you. You were sleeping peacefully, your head resting on his chest, your arms wrapped around him in search of warmth. Your breath was calm and steady, and your fragrant hair lightly tickled his skin. For a few seconds, he stayed still, simply watching you. Then, almost without thinking, he lowered his lips to your forehead and left a soft kiss, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

But he immediately stopped. What the hell was he doing?

This wasn’t like him. He wasn’t the type to stop and watch a girl sleep, to be swept away by gentle, instinctive gestures. Yet, every time he was with you, it felt like something inside him cracked.

And that scared him. You were becoming his weakness, but at the same time, his obsession.

Hoon bit the inside of his cheek, trying to push those thoughts away. He carefully pulled away from you, trying not to wake you, and got out of bed. He ran a hand through his silver hair, sighing.

It was better to distance himself a bit, he muttered softly to himself.

After that night, the days passed, and Hoon came home rarely. You tried not to think too much about it, not to dwell on it, but… something felt strange. You felt restless. You had seen him only a few times, but he never stopped to talk to you. No arrogant jokes, no intense stares, no provocative touches.

And that irritated you. Why should you feel like this? Wasn’t it better this way? At least you could focus on your studies and the goals you had set for yourself. But then, why did your heart race every time you heard the roar of a race car? Why did his scent still seem to linger on the sheets?

You needed a distraction, and that’s when T/l, Jungwon’s girlfriend, showed up at your door with a mischievous smile on her lips.

'There’s a race outside the city tonight. Foreign drivers, a lot of cool people, and of course, we have to be there.'

You widened your eyes. “A race? I remind you that last time, Sunghoon wasn’t exactly happy to see me,” you said.

She nodded but enthusiastically said, 'Forget about him, it’ll be worth it. You need to relax a bit, and who cares about Sunghoon? You’ll be with me.'

You hesitated for a moment. It wasn’t your world. Not like it was for Hoon, Jungwon, and the others, but maybe that was exactly why you needed to go.

So, that evening, you showed up at T/l’s place. You were wearing a light blue skirt, short enough to show a bit of your legs, a tight-fitting top, boots that made your figure stand out, and a leather jacket that completed your look.

When T/l saw you, her eyes went wide, and she burst out laughing. 'Wait a minute…' she looked you up and down with an amused expression. 'Where’s the sweet girl I used to know?' You barely smiled, tightening the zipper of your jacket with your fingers, and shrugged, smiling back at her.

Hoon was leaning against his car, the second-place finish well-earned after a brutal qualifier. The roar of the engines rang in his ears, adrenaline still rushing through his veins.

Around him, a handful of girls were trying to get his attention. Sly smiles, hands brushing his skin, gazes full of desire, but he doesn’t even look at them. His eyes were fixed on Jungwon and his girlfriend. Or rather, on you, next to them.

What. The. Hell. Were. You. Doing. Here?

As if having you underfoot at his house wasn’t enough, now you had to step into his world too?

This wasn’t your place, and you knew it well. Hadn’t it been enough to see him pissed off a couple of weeks ago? This wasn’t a place for good girls like you either, yet here you were. The headlights softly illuminated you, making your perfect skin glow. Your hair was lightly tousled by the night wind, and your outfit… Damn.

A light blue skirt. A delicate blue, almost innocent, but the length was a damn provocation. A tight top. Nothing too bold, yet on your body, it seemed like the deadliest weapon.

Boots and a leather jacket. As if you were playing the bad girl and that outfit… looked damn good on you.

Hoon licked his lips, the irritation bubbling inside him. Why were you here? What were you hoping to find? Strong emotions? Risks? People like him?

The race began, and he let himself get carried away. He pressed the accelerator with more rage than necessary, letting the engine scream beneath his fingers. But that night, Heeseung was simply faster, more precise, more strategic. Second place, not bad, but not enough.

Hoon got out of the car, his hands still gripping the steering wheel from the adrenaline. He was ready to ignore the world and grab a drink when his eyes landed on a scene he never should have seen.

You, talking to another guy and smiling at him. He wasn’t a driver, he wasn’t a mechanic—just some random guy who’d come to watch the illegal races. Yet, he was laughing with you, talking to you, looking at you with too much damn confidence, and his jaw tightened, his fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.

He didn’t like the way that guy was looking at you. You were his, not in the sweet sense of the word. Not like a step-sister, not like a friend, not like something rational. You were his because he had decided it, and he didn’t care if you hadn’t realized it yet.

With slow, measured steps, he approached you, and the girls who’d been surrounding him stopped laughing, sensing the shift in his aura, and the people around moved aside without even realizing it.

Hoon didn’t say a word as he stood behind you. He just stared at that guy with eyes that left no room for interpretation, and the guy noticed it, his smile faltering. He began to feel the weight of the attention, the air growing suddenly heavier.

Hoon didn’t need to say anything because it was clear. He spoke to you, but also to the guy you were talking to: “She’s not for you.”

And if that loser was smart, he would’ve left before Hoon decided to make him understand in another way.

Because that night, he would find a way to make you remember who the only man who deserved your attention was.

The silence in the car was unbearable. Hoon gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white from the firm hold. His gaze was fixed on the road, his jaw clenched. The engine roared under his control, yet he seemed on the verge of losing his own. You, sitting beside him, could feel your heart beating too loudly. You hadn’t dared speak since he grabbed your wrist and dragged you away from the race, ignoring your protests, but this time, he didn’t stop on some deserted road.

He took you down to the garage of a building, and you knew exactly what it was. The racers’ hideout. You had heard about it, see his friends leave after the races and head to that place, but never, not even in your wildest dreams, had you imagined you’d be brought there by him like this.

Hoon slammed the car into the park, opened the door, and stepped out without even looking at you. Then he walked around the car and opened your door with a sharp motion.

“Get out.” His voice was an order.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “Sunghoon, what...”

“I said. Get out.”

The look he gave you sent a shiver down your spine. There was something dangerous about him in that moment, something you had never seen before.

You knew you should refuse, tell him he was going too far, but your legs moved on their own, and before you could even process it, you were already inside.

The inside of the hideout was exactly what you expected. Chaotic, but after a few steps, he pushed you into his room, and you entered hesitantly.

Posters, race photos, pictures of him and his friends, money scattered everywhere, as if it didn’t matter to him. A perfect mess, typical of someone who lived on adrenaline and speed.

But Hoon? At that moment, he couldn’t have cared less about his room. Before you could say anything, he grabbed you by the waist and pinned you to the wall.

“What the hell did you think you were doing, huh?” His voice was low and dangerous, his eyes burning as his fingers traced along your exposed legs.

“Sunghoon,” you said, looking at him.

“No, tell me.” He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “Did you dress like this for me? No, wait...” His smile turned sharp as his hand slid further down, brushing the hem of your skirt. “You dressed like a good girl, but with those little slutty details. Why? Were you hoping I’d notice?”

Your face burned with shame. “Stop! Don’t talk to me like that!”

He laughed a low, guttural chuckle. “Oh, does it bother you?” His fingers traced your thigh with an excruciating slowness. “Because the truth hurts, doesn’t it, princess?”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the reaction your body had to his touch. “You’re nobody to treat me like this.”

Hoon raised an eyebrow, then lowered his gaze to your lips. “NO?” He moved even closer, his body pinning yours to the wall. “Why don’t you seem so sure while you’re saying that?”

He grabbed your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“You know what I want to know?” His tone was venomous, lethal. “I want to know who you touch yourself for at night.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

He leaned closer to your ear, whispering, “I know you do it thinking about me.

You swallowed hard, your heart feeling like it was about to explode. "You're an asshole." He smiled, pleased. "Maybe."

He pulled back slightly, watching you. "So, this is how you get jealous."

"Of who?" You tried to sound dismissive, but the tremble in your voice made him smile even more.

"Of all the girls who flock around me." He moved closer, his lips a breath away from yours. "Say it's not true."

You gritted your teeth. "It's not."

"You’re a terrible liar, little sister."

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, his eyes piercing into yours as if he were reading your thoughts. "You know it's true, don't you?" he whispered, his hand gripping your waist with far too much confidence. "You know you want me just as much as I want you."

You breathed heavily, your heart pounding wildly. "And what if it’s true?"

He stifled a groan, his jaw tightening as his fingers dug into your hips. "Christ..."

For a moment, you thought he was going to kiss you, but then, he pulled away abruptly and ran a hand through his silver hair, as if trying to regain control.

"Go home," he said finally, his voice low and dangerous. You looked at him, stunned by his words, and whispered his name.

"Now," he ordered, his tone commanding. You couldn't take it anymore, couldn’t endure his games, his unpredictable behavior, the way he drove you crazy with desire only to push you away as if nothing had happened. You couldn't stand seeing him with other girls, couldn't hold back what you felt anymore. You'd liked him since the first day you saw him, and without thinking twice, you grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket and kissed him. It wasn’t a sweet kiss, nor a shy one. It was fierce, full of frustration, need, and possessiveness. Sunghoon groaned against your lips, caught off guard for just a second. Then he recovered, and in an instant, his hands slipped under your skirt, gripping your ass hard enough to make you gasp. With a swift motion, he lifted you, making you wrap your legs around his waist as he pressed you against the closed door of his room.

"Finally..." he hissed against your mouth, his lips still tasting of your desire. "You took a fucking century."

His voice was hoarse and dark, the tone of a real bastard.

"Shut up," you muttered, laughing slightly. He paused for a second, then bowed his head. "What did you say?"

You shivered down your spine, but you didn’t back off. "I said shut up." Sunghoon smiled. That sharp smile, the one that made your legs tremble.

"God, you’re such a little bitch, aren’t you?" his hands squeezed your flesh even more, making you bite your lip. "A good girl with a big mouth. I wonder if I can find another way to use it or to silence you."

That comment made your blood boil, and you decided to punish him in the best way possible. You rubbed against him your body was slow and decided against his cock.

The reaction was immediate. You felt his erection harden against you, the electric tension in the air became unbearable and you bit your lip, looking at it with an innocent air. "Do you like it, Hoon?"

He puffed, shaking his head with an exasperated smile. "Princess, you have no idea what you’re doing." You kept moving. More pressure, more friction, and then, you felt it, a low growl from his throat.

Then, a slap on your uncovered thigh. " Enough." His voice was authoritative, with no room for objection but you didn’t intend to stop while you felt the pain but also the excitement grow and you leaned down at his ear, the hot breath against his skin. "What if I don’t want to?"

Another slap in your buttock made you moan and Sunghoon pushed you even more against the door, his heavy breath as his dark eyes shone with pure lust.

"You want to play with me, Y/n?" he growled, his low and dangerous tone. "I guarantee that with me you will always lose." A shiver ran through your skin.

He slipped his hand along your thigh, touching the edge of your panties. "You’re already wet, aren’t you?" You didn’t answer, you shouldn’t already be so wet and in need of him. He laughed. "Oh, don’t you want to tell me? All right."

With a torturing slowness, he stuck a finger under the thin tissue slipped between your intimate lips, and took your breath. "Hoon..."

"What is it, princess?" he whispered, licking your neck as his finger traced slow circles on your clitoris. "Are you speechless?"

You felt as if your body was on fire. His voice, his touch, his absolute dominion over you... was too much and too little at the same time.

You clung to his ice hair, gasping when the pressure increased.

"What did you want from me, uh?" he continued to tease you. "When you kissed me... what did you think would happen?"

"That you would finally catch me." You confessed in a whisper.

Sunghoon moans slowly, his breath broken against your skin. "Christ..." He brought you down from him, his chest heaving up, his fingers still pressed against your hot skin. Then, without saying anything, he hit you with a strong slap on the butt and moans, a mix of surprise, pain and excitement. He laughed quietly, smug. "Do you like it, princess?"

You did not answer but he grabbed your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him. "Reply."

Swallowing, heart pounding. "Yes." Sunghoon licked his lips. "Damnation... you’re just as I imagined."

He sat on the edge of the bed and beckoned to you to come closer.

You did not answer but he grabbed your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at it.

"If you would be mine..." his voice was dark, velvety, but with a thread of danger underneath. "Prove it to me."

You took off your white shirt and he whistled when he saw your bra with your already turgid buds and touched it slightly you felt your body shivering and took you by the side and with a click he took off your bra and your breasts you sat down over his legs and felt his cock already hard and you started to slightly swing and he began to torture your buds with his tongue and teeth but Hoon had other thoughts in mind made you lift slightly and felt the fabric of your skirt Pull it down. He had gripped it and pulled it hard, slightly ripping off a flap.

"Hey!" moaning, looking at him with big eyes. "This skirt cost an eye of the head!"

He shrugged his shoulders, totally uninterested. "I buy another."

"That’s not the point!" you blurted out, trying to fix it, he laughed again, his low and dirty laugh that made your knees tremble. " Princess, I win thousands of dollars a race. I could fill your wardrobe with skirts like a good girl... and then tear them all off, one by one."

His fingers snapped to the elastic of your panties, playing with them slowly, without ever lowering them.

"White, eh?" he whispered, looking at the delicate lace. "So innocent even here below..." He looked up, his eyes dark and hungry. " But soon I will ruin you forever."

You felt a shiver running down your spine, his hands slowly climbing up your thighs, just pressing on your warm skin.

"You won’t be a good girl anymore." whispered against your skin, you lifted slightly and settled on the back of its legs, pressing on its hardness still covered by boxers.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?" You bit your lip, pretending nothing while you started moving slowly over it, gradually increasing the pressure. He immediately grabbed you by the hips, holding you tight. “Don’t play with fire, darling."

But you didn’t stop to feel his erection growing beneath you. You felt how much you were driving him crazy.

"Tsk." Sunghoon laughed softly, but there was tension in his voice. "Where the hell did you learn to be so provocative?"

You approached his ear, your breath touching his warm skin. "Perhaps I had a good teacher."

He pressed you even more against himself, his eyes full of danger and desire.

"Oh, princess..." he murmured, His voice low and threatening. "Now you’ve really crossed the line. In a moment, he had pushed you back on the bed, his body above yours, his dark and hungry eyes peering at you as if they wanted to devour you.

He leaned down on your legs and began to nibble the sensitive skin of your thighs, alternating slow bites and kisses, cruel, full of dangerous promises.

"Laugh, laugh pure, darling." whispered against your warm skin. "Let’s see if you’ll laugh again when you’re full of my cock and cum."

With trembling hands, you took off his boxer shorts and your eyes were running towards his cock which was slightly pink and full of liquid, was long and quite large, and swallowed slightly as you touched him Sunghoon watched carefully every move you made and slightly he rubbed around your vaginal lips and after a little, while Sunghoon was crazy to hear you around him and with one blow almost entered completely inside you and both groan at the feeling of your bodies attached to each other.

When he pushed into you, both groaned in unison. "Fuck, you’re so tight around me..." he panted, moving slowly at first to get you used to its length. You bit your lip, but then whispered: "Move."

He laughed softly. "Always so impatient, eh?" He started pushing harder, and you pulled his hair. "God, you’re beautiful like this," he said between moans. His cock was sinking deeper and deeper into you, and you sucked it back up tight, put your arms around his neck, and kissed him as you felt that you were getting more and more busy.

"Look at you, you’re taking me so well, maybe we should have done it before it’s so nice to see you under me, shoved by my arms and cock" he whispered against your lips as he squeezed His hips to push even deeper into you. "I thought you were better at standing up to me... and instead look how you hold me close as if I never had enough," he said laughing. A shiver through your back and you felt it lift slightly your leg to push deeper into you. When he found your G-spot, you shouted his name, nails stuck in his shoulders.

"There? In here, right here?" he teased you, aiming the rhythm and making you almost lose control. "Who would have thought... that my little stepsister would be so good at taking my dick?

"Hoon..." groan, feeling your body surrender to him. "Go on, I’m close."

He smiled smugly and, without stopping, slid a hand between your bodies to caress your clitoris, stroking it with circular and precise movements.

"Tell me that I am the one who will make you come," he whispered in your ear, with a mischievous grin. "Tell me that no one else can make you feel like this."

The words, the tone, the way in which it dominated you completely made you give up words, the tone, the way in which it dominated you completely made you give up completely, and with a choked cry you came tightened around him, your body shaken by a wave of intense pleasure.

But he had not yet come. With some more deep thrusts, he let his seed and sperm fill you, staying inside of you for a few seconds before exiting with a panting breath.

You felt empty without him, but before you could say anything, Sunghoon pushed a finger into you, making you shudder. "You must hear it well, baby. This is the sign that you are mine."

You watched him with burning cheeks as you felt his finger push even more into his cum and groan "You’re a jerk."

"Fuck." He whispered between his teeth, passing a hand through his unkempt hair before stooping down to press a hot kiss on your lips that kiss he was giving you was a slow, intimate kiss that had nothing to do with domination or possession anymore.

A kiss that spoke only of you two and Sunghoon lay down next to you, dragging you immediately into his arms, wrapping you in a strong, almost desperate embrace. You caress his chest, feeling his breath returning slowly to normal, and then, without thinking, let those words slip away. "I didn’t want to fall in love with you."

His body stiffened for a second and then, a low, dark, roaring laugh invaded the room and you lifted yourself slightly, observing the bold smile on his lips.

"I didn’t want to fall in love with you either, princess," he whispered, his eyes chained into yours. "But we’re both fucked now."

He touched your face with the tips of his fingers, his look softer, more human, and you, without thinking about it, shook his hair with a little smile.

He laughed again, holding you tighter against him.

"Mine”, he repeated quietly, like a promise etched in the skin, and you, this time without hesitation, annuity.

Sleep wrapped you, hugged, trapped in each other, and at that moment, you realized you would never be able to escape from him again.

Taglist: @hearts4cheol @lovenha7 @in-somnias-world @heeseungxo @luvyeni @jayjw16enxp @jvngwni @jooniesbears-blog @gguk-n @cloudykim @enhaverse713586 @stormy1408 @jakesw82 @misssparklyprincess @bamguetismee @jaylajakey @arclviie @strxwbloody @steddie-steddie @jungwoosbaey @laurenmia65 @tasnemluvs @lovellydisaster @rikiscupid @simj4k3 @numnommz @sspidermanss @vixialuvs @smlbch @m3wkledreamy @xylatox @ikeulove @nishikio @ancnymcnzjy @sofiafromvenus @kayjiguki @sunhyeswife @chanryou @stwrlightt

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zepskies · 2 years ago

Text

Smoke Eater || Series Masterlist

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: "Smoke eater": a self-appointed slang term for a firefighter.

Get ready for an AU! Several SPN characters will make their appearances: Sam and John Winchester, Castiel as "Cas Novak," Ellen and Jo Harvelle, Jack Kline, Benny Lafitte, Gordon Walker, Meg Masters, Chuck Shurley, Nick (yes, even him), and more!

Series Tags/Warnings: (**18+ only!) There will be a lot of heart, a lot of fun, drama, heartbreak, protective Dean, and even a murder mystery. Rating for eventual smut, perilous situations, and other chapter-specific tags.

🎵 Listen While You Read:

The Smoke Eater Playlist: YouTube || Spotify

Chapters:

Part 1 - Class and Style - Podcast Version!

Part 2 - Lieutenant Winchester

Part 3 - Got a Hold on Me

Part 4 - Rocky Road

Part 5 - Twitterpated

Part 6 - Just Casual

Part 7 - Cherry Pie & Lemon Drizzle

Part 8 - Likewise, Baby

Part 9 - Do Not Disturb

Part 10 - Toil and Trouble

Part 11 - Heart of the Home

Part 12 - All in the Family

Part 13 - Boiling Point

Part 14 - Message in a Bottle

Part 15 - The Good Part

Part 16 - Break Down the Gates

Part 17 - The Real Deal

Part 18 - V for Vendetta

Part 19 - Sacrifice

Epilogue - Easy as Pie

Series Complete!

Bonus One-Shots:

Something Real** Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

(Want to listen to the podcast version? Keep scrolling below!)

Serendipity Now that you and Dean are married, you begin to live out the next phase of your dream. However, reality has to check in some time.

🎙️ Podcast Fics:

Listen to Part 1 in podfic form!

(A "podfic" is where you can listen to the story narrated.)

(Cover image and narration by @talltalesandbedtimestories)

Or listen to the official Idling in the Impala episode of Smoke Eater Part 1 on YouTube:

Or listen on Spotify.

Listen to the Idling in the Impala podfic episode of the sequel story, Something Real below:

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Join My Patreon 🌟

Dean Winchester Series List

Dean Winchester Masterlist

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straows · 3 months ago

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𝘜𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴.

Tw: drugs, fighting, messy relationship, injuries, car wreck, break up, death, Gojo crashes out, hurt/no comfort, insecurities. Gojo x retiredSorcerer!reader

It had been a long day. A very, very, fucking long day. For the both of you. Gojo had been running around all day fucking up some curses and being ordered around like a dog by the elders, whereas you've been dealing with people.

You'd been retired as a sorcerer for a little bit now, mainly because of a severe hip injury that makes it hard for you to be able to do sorcerer things. So you got a job at a bakery to keep yourself busy and also contribute to your and Gojo's bills, while it's not much, it's something.

It was so fucking busy. I mean there was a line around the fucking block just for a god damn muffin.

You'd gotten into a screaming match with your coworker, then some fuckass customers. And your whole day was like that. A 12 hour shift. Spent serving ungrateful assholes.

So you were ready to come home and just decompress. You were hoping to rant and smoke a joint before your boyfriend got home. You never did tell Gojo about it, he always got too concerned for your lungs.

When you finally got home, your boyfriend was already there. He was sat at the kitchen table drinking water and scrolling on his phone.

So with a sigh, you put your keys down, "hey baby, how was your day?" You murmur, looking over at him.

"Great, yours?" Gojo looked up finally, he was pretty tired looking but you had you face in the freezer.

"Let me tell you," and here came the decompressing rant.

You started with how busy it was, followed by all the shitty customers and went into detail.

However, you hadn't noticed how long you'd been talking. You just kinda let your mind lose. But it wasn't until you finally got out of the fridge did Gojo speak up.

"Ok, fuck- stop talking! Can you shut the fuck up? I mean damn! I didn't ask for all that! Just say good and move on!" He yelled, loud enough to have you jump back a little. He glared at you for a long moment before getting up and going to the bedroom.

You just kind of stood there in shock. I mean, what else could you do? Even tho your feelings were hurting like a motherfucker, you opened y'all's bedroom door, "baby? You oka-"

"No! Damn! Get the fuck out! You're not even a sorcerer anymore! All you do is work at some shop! It's not that hard! All you do is bitch and complain. I get it that you wanna be useful but you can't. You fucked up YOUR knee and now you're useless! That's your fucking problem!" He was actually screaming at you. The veins in his forehead were popping out and his face was red and everything.

You just stared at him before stepping into the room and reaching into your panty drawer to pull a box. You just silently walked out of the room, grabbed your car keys and your wallet before leaving the house. And you slammed the door behind you, and I mean you slammed that shit so hard that picture frames fell off the walls and shattered.

You got in your car, and you left.

Gojo looked at where you stood, before his head snapped up when the door slammed. "Y/n-" the sound of glass shattering had him walking into the living room. First he noticed the mess, then the sound of the car skidding out of the drive way.

Groaning, he sat on the couch, hands covering his face. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." He murmured, his hands balling up in his hair.

He felt like a piece of shit. He just screamed the most unacceptable shit to his girlfriend. For just trying to tell him about her day.

The more he thought about it the heavier the guilt felt until his chest was aching. Looking at his phone, he went to Life360, only to see you weren't in the circle anymore. He couldn't see your location.

So he immediately tried to call you. No answer. He tried to text you, it went green. You'd blocked him.

"Shit..." he leaned back in the couch and sighed. His gaze moving towards the broken glass on the floor. He could at least clean up...

And he did just that. It took a little while to clean the floor, then get the pictures in new frames and while he was at it he did the cleaning chores. By the time he was done it was 9pm. You'd left at 7pm. And still weren't home.

But without your location, and him yawning every five seconds, he just decided to give you space and lay down. The second he laid down he passed the fuck out.

You didn't come home till late. I mean late late. Like around 2am. You'd parked all wonky and shit in the driveway, and wobbled right back up inside. Your eyes were red as fuck, barely open as you opened the door to your porch before closing it. Sitting down on one of rocking chairs, you just stared out at the sky. Your face was red from crying, puffy with tear streaks running down your face.

You were hurting. You didn't know Gojo thought that poorly of you. And to call you useless? Wow. It was already hard enough going from a high grade sorcerer to basically a cripple.

Sighing, you just rested your head on the back of the rocking hair and closed your eyes. The weed already had you sleepy as fuck, so it was easy to just drift off.

Waking up in the morning was rough. You had slept in a bad position, and the metal plate in your help, along with the arthritis had flared up. Groaning, you slowly stood up, your teeth clenching as you didn't put any weight on your bad hip.

Slowly, you walked inside, grunting and grumbling quietly as you hobbled into the living room, then into the bedroom. You expected Gojo to be gone already, or at least not in the house. But no, he was just waking up.

Glaring at him, you scoffed before grabbing a towel and some clothes, and the essentials from the shared bathroom, just to hobble into the guest bathroom. And you made sure to lock that door behind you to.

And that proved to be a good decision, because as you got naked, the white haired fucker himself knocked on the door.

"Pretty? I need to talk to yo-" he tried to open the door but it was locked. Something he was not used to at all. Usually yall would shower together, or at the very least have the door wide open. The door being locked had his throat tightening, he wanted to break the fucking door so he could get to you, especially when you he heard you grunt as you got into the shower.

"Is your hip hurting you?" He asked softly through the door, his heart breaking when he heard you grab the wall with a thud. Yeah. He knew it was probably flaring up. "Let me in so I can help y-"

"I don't need your fucking help! I'm not a goddamn vegetable and I'm not that fucking useless so just fuck the hell off!" You yelled, your voice strained. You'd never snapped at him like that. But of course he'd never screamed at you like he did yesterday either.

Gojo stared at the door, his jaw clenching as he tried the doorknob one more time. "...I'll be waiting in the bedroom when you get done." He mumbled before walking back to the bedroom.

Regardless of what you'd said, you did need help. You couldn't even bend over. And it had you crying out of frustration.

You were the shower for a long time. And when you got out, you only stared at your body. You used to have some insanely strong thighs, but they'd lost the muscle and just looked pudgy and soft. Your toned torso became the same, soft to the touch.

And all while Gojo's words from yesterday repeated in your head over and over again.

The shower was a struggle, sure, but it was harder to get your underwear and shorts on. But when you were done, you finally left the bathroom. Having to use the wall for support.

Going into the bedroom, you ignored Gojo and opened your bedside drawer so you could get some pain killers. Taking three too many, you dry swallowed them.

"Y/n that is way too many! Let me at least get you some water, I mean you know what the doctor sai-" Gojo tried to help you, but you just wouldn't accept it.

"Don't worry about it. It's not your problem." You sent him a sharp glare then hobbled your way back into the living room.

"No- no. Y/n— listen, I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn't have said those things at all, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean any of it." Gojo tried to reach for you, but you slapped his hands away.

"Then why would you fucking say that to me? Calling me useless? Just because your the worlds strongest or whatever bullshit the elders tell you doesn't mean you get to talk like that!" You snapped at him again, jamming your finger into his just hard enough to make him back up. "And if I was such a burden to you, then why the fuck would you date me?!" You were yelling now.

"No- baby, you're not useless, at all. You're stronger than me- so much so. Please, it had just been a long day yesterday and I just... got overwhelmed." He grabbed your hand and held it in his, his brows furrowed as he pleaded with you.

"I don't give a fuck who you are, Gojo, you will never, EVER, talk to like that." Glaring at him you snatched your hand away from him, "don't fucking touch me." You left him standing there, lips parted and the most pathetic look on his face.

You had been together for a year and a half now, and never had you ever spoken to him like that, and he never to you.

But it seemed like he was just digging a deeper grave for himself. He knew you were angry, upset and hurting but he didn't want to be on the receiving end of your anger and hurt. Even if he was the one that caused it.

Watching you have to hold onto the wall for support, face contorted into pain every time you put weight on your bad leg, his chest got tighter and his heart ached.

The entire day continued on like that. Him trying to talk to you, but you just kept pushing him away. He knew he deserved it, but he was so ready to be done with this argument.

It wasn't until your stubbornness caused you to slip and fall did he finally put his foot down.

You'd tried to walk to the bathroom, but had slipped on the rug. The air knocked out of you as you forced yourself to sit up. The pain in your hip intensified. You wanted to cut it off.

Forcing yourself to breath, a cry slipped through your lips and Gojo came running.

Gently lifting you up, he moved you over to the couch. His eyes worried and his brows furrowed, "Enough is enough- you can't keep trying to do this on your own. You should have told me your hip was flaring up last night instead of just storming off."

You stared at the ground, before finally speaking up, "let's break up."

"What?" Gojo laughed as if you were joking, before his face turned sour. "I'm sorry, what'd you say? I misheard you." He was hoping he heard you wrong.

"Let's break up." You repeated it, same tone and everything. "Yesterday made me realize how wrong we are for each other. How wrong we've always been."

"No- no. Baby, yesterday was all my fault- i-i had just gotten frustrated and I took it out on you, I'm so sorry. I should have never said those things," Gojo was crouched in front of you now, his eyes desperate as he tried to get you to look him in the eye. "We're perfect for each other, pretty."

"But we're not. My life as a sorcerer is over. I can hardly function. You're hardly ever home, and when you are, you're exhausted. You're not happy with me, hell I don't even think you're attracted to me anymore. When's the last time we've done anything? It's been months." You just stared at him, tears rolling down your face slowly.

Gojo's heart was breaking into a billion pieces with every word you spoke. "No, no no. I'll take time off- I'll- I'll quit! I'll do anything- just don't do this to us! I'm still attracted to you! I am! I've just been really tired!"

"No you're not. I look nothing like I used to. I can't workout anymore, I've lost muscle and now my body is all pudgy and gross- and you still look amazing. I've seen the way your eyes linger on other women, you never had wandering eyes when I was a sorcerer." Your jaw clenched and bottom lips quivering, you looked away from him. "I mean- you even called me useless, and you're right."

"No! I wasn't right! About anything! Baby please- I'm an idiot! I just said shit without thinking!" Gojo was begging at this point. His knuckles white as he held onto the couch cushion.

"We'd never be able to get married, have kids, grow old with each other or even die in battle with one another." You wiped your face, having to take stuttering breaths to keep calm, "By the time we're 40 you'd hate me. I'm literally dead weight."

Gojo's eyes began to tear up and he just shook his head over and over, "no your wrong. We would grow old together and it's ok we can't have kids! I'm ok with that- baby all I want is you."

"You haven't wanted me in a long time Gojo. Hell even the dogs that people get then regret later get more love than you've shown me in months." You lightly pushed him away, "So let's break up. You don't love me anymore- that's why you felt so ok with screaming at me not once but twice. People who love one another don't do that."

"But I do love you! I love you with all my heart! I'll quit being a sorcerer- we can move away from here, I have more than enough money for the both of us to retire to some far away island!" Gojo grabbed your hands in a tight grip, his face pathetic as he cried and begged. He loved you, he honestly did. He'd just... let himself forget what he had.

"I'll come get my stuff in a few days." You murmured before forcing yourself to stand up. You managed to grab your keys and limp your way out the door. Leaving Gojo sitting there on the floor, staring at where you once sat.

He didn't hear from you for a few days. In fact, he didn't hear from you at all. Because two days later, he got a call from the nearby emergency center.

"Hello?" Gojo's voice was rough. He'd been crying and hadn't left the house since you left. He was an absolute mess.

"Hi, is this Mr. Gojo?" A woman's voice on the other line spoke.

"Yes."

"Sir, we've called to inform you that Y/n L/n has been in accident." Her voice was dry, she'd made these calls so many times, the empathy had drained from her.

"What? Is she ok? What happened?!" Immediately he was panicking. He was standing right away and rushed to grab his keys.

"She got in a car accident near Vaughn road. She was rushed to the emergency room and is now in intensive care here at the hospital."

His breath caught in his throat, his mouth went dry and his heart felt like it stopped. "I-in-intensive care?" He murmured.

"Yes sir, they are keeping on one of the ventilators for now. You're her emergency contact."

"I'm on my way." Gojo didn't bother to wait for her answer, he didn't rush to throw on better clothes than grey sweats and a hoodie. He was running out the door.

Breaking several traffic laws, he was finally at the hospital. Rushing in, he was at the counter and demanding to see you in no time. "Where is she?!"

"Who? Did you must calm down." The receptionist stood up, trying to get him to lower his voice.

"Y/b l/n! Where is she?! How is she?!" Gojo watched with wide eyes as the woman got quiet.

Slowly, she grabbed the phone and called a doctor up to the front desk. Where he was then escorted to a private room.

"Are you Gojo Satoru? The patients boyfriend?" The doctor asked.

"Yes yes, now how is she?! I need to see her!" He demanded, slamming his fist down on the table.

The doctor sighed quietly, "Sir, I'm so sorry, we did everything we could but," the doctor took a breath before continuing, "the internal bleeding was severe. She passed during surgery."

Gojo just stared at him. His ears ringing and his heart beat so loud he could hardly hear what he was saying. His whole world was crashing down on him all at once. "She's- she's dead?"

"Yes sir, I'm so sorry for your loss. We did everything we could. I'll give you the room." The doctor glanced at Gojo before leaving the room, closing the door softly behind him.

Gojo just fell back into a chair and held his head in hands. "This isn't real... this isn't real, this isn't FUCKING REAL." He immediately got his phone and began calling her number. Over and over and over again. Tears pouring down his face, his knees bouncing fast enough to cause the carpet to tear.

Slowly, reality began to settle in and he crumbled under its pressure. Sobbing into his hands, he wailed. Crying over and over again "my girl, not my girl" or "no no no".

It was heartbreaking to hear as people passed the room on the outside.

Even weeks after you'd been buried, he couldn't function. Couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. He couldn't do anything. He was utterly useless, like he'd said to you the last night he had with you.

The words he said to you haunted him. The way you were in pain on your last days because of your hip, because of him.

He didn't even get to hold you. He didn't even get to see your face. They had to have to a closed casket funeral. The wreck you'd gotten into was with a drunk driver, it was a head on collision and your body was mangled.

Everyday, he sat at your grave. Crying, talking or just staring at your headstone.

Weeks, months, and years later, Gojo had been rendered useless without you. He was miserable with having you to hold onto at night or to talk to in the mornings. He missed every single thing about you. He missed the way you'd laugh at his shitty jokes, or how you'd scold him if he got drunk or ate too many sweets. He even missed how you'd try to ignore him but cave in when he'd hug you from behind and press sweet kisses from your neck. He missed how you'd look at him with those adoring eyes.

And he regretted how your last days were spent. He regretted how he let you get a job even tho you were in no state to get one. He regretted how he spoke to you, or let you feel insecure. He regretted his wandering eyes and his wishes that you were normal. He regretted everything he never got to do with you, or how little time he had spent with you.

He loved you more than anything. And without you, he was just as useless.

𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝𓆟𓆜𓆞𓆝

Ok guys hope you liked it. Kinda feeling like shit rn so I’m gonna get high asf ok? Ok. Love yall.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #imagine #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk angst #hurt/no comfort #angst #no happy ending #character death #x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fanfic

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glowettee · 1 month ago

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Hi Mindy! I’m a college student and I’m struggling to go to bed at a decent hour (think 3 am bedtimes every day) because of the amount of homework I have. Do you have any tips for time management so I can figure out how to get my homework done all during the day so I’m not losing sleep? (Any app recommendations or suggestions on how to schedule my day would be greatly appreciated). Thank you so much! I love your blog and I love seeing your posts🩷

how to get your life together & actually sleep: time management tips for college✨

hi love! 💌 first off, thank you so much for your sweet words. they genuinely made me smile. i’m so proud of you for wanting to improve your time management and prioritize your sleep (honestly, sleep is like the ultimate self-care, and you deserve it). i know college can feel like a whirlwind of assignments, deadlines, and just… life. staying up until 3 am is no joke, and it’s amazing that you’re ready to make a change. let’s make your routine feel a little more manageable and a lot more magical.

☁️ romanticize your productivity: first thing’s first: mindset. instead of viewing homework as this scary, endless task that eats up your nights, try to romanticize it. create a cozy study ritual. light a candle, make a cute study playlist (ex: lo-fi mixed with soft acoustics), and set up your space in a way that makes you actually want to sit down and work. i know it sounds silly, but giving your study sessions a soft, aesthetic vibe can make them feel less like a chore and more like a peaceful little routine. i have a lot of posts talking about this

🌙 break down your workload: sometimes it’s not about how much work you have but how it’s organized. take a few minutes in the morning or the night before to make a list of what you actually need to accomplish. break it down into small, bite-sized tasks. for example, instead of “study for chem exam,” write down “review chapter 4 notes,” “do practice problems,” and “make flashcards for key concepts.” checking off small tasks feels way more rewarding than staring at a big, vague to-do.

💡 create a time-blocking ritual: i’m obsessed with time-blocking because it feels like giving each task its own little home. instead of doing everything all at once (which is just chaos), dedicate specific chunks of time to each task. for instance:

🌼 9-10 am: review lecture notes

✨ 10-11:30 am: work on that essay (no distractions)

🍓 11:30-12: take a break, stretch, grab a snack

💻 12-1: group project research set timers to keep yourself accountable. i use the “focus keeper” app for 25-minute work sessions with 5-minute breaks. it’s surprisingly motivating!

📅 the magic of reverse scheduling: if you know you want to be in bed by, say, 11 pm, plan your day backwards from there. schedule your evening wind-down routine (like skincare, a little journaling, and tea) and work your way back through the hours, assigning tasks in reverse. this way, you’re prioritizing sleep as non-negotiable and shaping your day to respect that.

✨ my fave apps for dreamy productivity:

notion: perfect for creating aesthetic, organized to-do lists, study schedules, and even journaling about your progress.

flora: turns studying into a game by planting a virtual tree while you focus. if you leave the app, the tree dies (no pressure, right?).

toggl: tracks your time so you can see how long tasks actually take. it’s eye-opening to realize you might be spending way more time scrolling than studying.

clockify: like a little personal assistant that tracks your study sessions and breaks. it’s simple and kind of addicting to see how productive you’ve been.

habitica: makes productivity feel like an RPG game. complete with character upgrades when you check things off. honestly, it’s too cute to resist.

💖 mindy’s personal tips:

📝 batch similar tasks: do all your note-taking at once, then all your problem-solving. your brain doesn’t have to keep switching gears.

🎯 use the “two-minute rule”: if something takes less than two minutes, do it right away (like replying to emails or organizing your notes).

🕰️ the 1-3-5 rule: pick one big task, three medium tasks, and five small ones to accomplish each day. it keeps your to-do list from being overwhelming.

✨ romanticize rest too: treat your sleep as sacred. create a pre-bed routine that you actually look forward to, like reading a few pages of a lighthearted book or doing a little night yoga.

🌸 don't forget how important 'no' is: sometimes, we overcommit because we’re too nice to say no. it’s okay to protect your time! practice polite ways to decline extra responsibilities when you know they’ll eat into your sleep. like, “i’d love to help, but i have to focus on my assignments tonight. let’s plan something for the weekend!”

🌙 gentle evening wind-down: your body needs time to transition from productivity mode to sleep mode. about an hour before bed, turn off your screens, dim the lights, and switch to calming activities. i like using the “calm” app for guided meditations that feel like little bedtime stories.

🌱 become a morning person (yes, it’s possible)

one trick that really works is having something to look forward to. think of a tiny, indulgent ritual that you save just for mornings. maybe it’s a frothy matcha latte with vanilla syrup, journaling in a pretty notebook, or listening to your favorite podcast while you stretch. the key is to make mornings feel like a gift to yourself rather than just the start of a grind.

set your alarm to a song that makes you feel good!! something soft and happy. bonus points if it’s different from your usual playlist because it’ll feel special. place your phone across the room so you have to physically get up to turn it off. i also love using the “alarmy” app because it makes you solve a simple puzzle before it stops ringing (annoying, but effective).

once you’re up, avoid falling back into bed by making your bed immediately. it’s like telling your brain, “we’re up now. no going back.” then, try a quick, gentle morning stretch to wake your body up without feeling rushed. mornings can actually feel soft and peaceful if you give yourself permission to take it slow.

as for getting enough sleep the night before. make it non-negotiable. treat your bedtime like an important meeting you can’t cancel. remind yourself that a well-rested mind works way better than a sleep-deprived one. it’s all about romanticizing rest as part of your productivity rather than seeing it as wasted time.

give it a week, and see how you feel. even a small shift, like waking up 30 minutes earlier, can make your day feel more spacious and less chaotic. being a morning person is just about creating tiny habits that make mornings feel like a calm beginning rather than a rushed scramble.

🌸 micro productivity okay, let’s be real... sometimes the idea of sitting down for a three-hour study session feels completely overwhelming. that’s where micro productivity comes in. instead of blocking out huge chunks of time, break your tasks into mini-sprints that fit into the small gaps of your day.

for example, while waiting for your coffee to brew, you could make a quick list of your priorities for the day. during your commute or while you’re eating lunch, review your flashcards or skim your notes. those little moments add up, and suddenly your workload doesn’t feel as intense because you’ve been chipping away at it throughout the day.

one of my favorite apps for this is “quizlet.” you can make digital flashcards and quickly review them whenever you have a spare moment. or use “ankidroid” for spaced repetition. it’s great for subjects that require lots of memorization.

another trick? the “two-minute rule.” if a task takes less than two minutes, do it immediately rather than adding it to your to-do list. this helps clear out small, annoying tasks that tend to pile up (like replying to emails or organizing your desktop).

i also love the idea of micro journaling. sometimes, when you’re overwhelmed, writing down just one thought or feeling can give your brain the clarity it craves. it doesn’t have to be a full journal entry, just a few words that capture your mood or intention.

don’t underestimate the function of small wins. every tiny task you complete builds momentum and makes the bigger assignments feel more doable. it’s like telling yourself, “i’m already being productive today. let’s keep that energy going.”

the goal is to make productivity feel more like a series of little achievements rather than one massive to-do list. micro productivity helps you stay on top of things without burning out, and it feels way more manageable when your schedule is packed.

💫 stay motivated when your energy is low we’ve all been there. those days when your brain feels like it’s wrapped in a fog, and the idea of tackling your to-do list feels impossible. it’s okay to have low-energy days, but let’s find a way to work with them instead of against them.

first, check in with yourself. is your low energy from lack of sleep, stress, or just general burnout? sometimes just identifying the reason helps you figure out what kind of self-care you need. if you’re physically tired, maybe your focus should be on rest or low-effort tasks. if it’s more mental fatigue, try switching up your study space or doing something creative to break the monotony.

use the idea of “productive rest.” sometimes, resting doesn’t mean doing nothing. it can be as simple as switching tasks to something lighter, like organizing your notes or doing some gentle stretching while listening to a podcast related to your coursework. this way, you’re still moving forward, just at a gentler pace.

set up a reward system to motivate yourself. for example, after 20 minutes of studying, give yourself a 5-minute break to scroll through pinterest or listen to a song you love. use apps like “forest” to stay focused during your work session and then celebrate with a cute coffee break when your tree grows.

also, be kind to yourself. it’s okay if you’re not operating at 100% all the time. instead of pushing yourself to be overly productive, prioritize what actually needs to get done. sometimes, just getting one important task out of the way is enough for the day, and that’s completely valid.

remember, your energy levels fluctuate, and that’s perfectly normal. don’t pressure yourself to be endlessly productive. balance is key. the goal is sustainable productivity, not burning out from trying to do everything at once. listen to your body, adjust your pace, and know that it’s okay to take breaks when you need them.

💫 final thoughts: it’s all about balance, being productive during the day is great, but you’re human. you can’t be on 24/7. give yourself grace when things don’t go perfectly. the goal isn’t perfection; it’s progress. prioritize rest as much as you prioritize getting things done, and your mind (and grades) will thank you.

xoxo mindy

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snowysosturn · 4 months ago

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Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 10

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: MDNI, angst, tension

I woke up the next morning at 9.30 am, pulling the eye mask over my head as the sunlight flooded in my entryway. Stretching, I let out a yawn and checked my phone. Still no response from Matt. Not that I was expecting any after being left on read.

Brushing it off, I got up and threw on my slippers. Nick and I we going shopping at 11, and the idea of getting out of the house lifted my mood. But first I needed coffee, desperately.

I dragged my feet downstairs to the kitchen and made myself a quick breakfast, scrambled eggs on toast and coffee from the Keurig. Simple but enough to wake me up. While I ate, I doom scrolled on my phone, pausing every so often to read back over my messages with Matt. Still no reply.

I don't know why it frustrated me, I guess I just wanted answers. I rinsed my plate, set it in the dishwasher, and headed into the bathroom to get ready. It was nice to not feel rushed or that I was bothering Matt by taking my time in here. The hot water from the shower was just what I needed. I stayed under longer than usual, it was a small luxury, but I enjoyed it.

After finishing up and drying my hair, I walked back up to my room, pulling open my closet. My eyes immediately landed on the yellow Ralph Lauren jumper Nick had given me yesterday. I threw it on and paired it with my favorite jeans and white sneakers. I glanced at myself in the mirror, adjusting the jumper. It was slightly oversized but felt snug in all the right ways. I sprayed my perfume over myself to finish it all off.

“Perfect” I muttered to myself before grabbing my bag.

Nick opened his bedroom door, ready to go with an eager grin on his face. “Ready to spend some money?” he asked, holding Chris’ card up.

Nick ordered an uber and suggested we check in on Nate to see if he needed anything while we were out. I followed him down the stairs to Chris’ room. Nick gently knocked on the door before peeking inside. "Still out cold" he whispered, shaking his head with a small grin. I glanced past him and saw Nate sprawled across the bed, tangled in Chris’ blanket, looking completely unbothered by the world.

"Kids on a two day hangover by the look of it, what did you do to him?" Nick laughed, closing the door quietly before turning to me with a shrug.

"Don’t ask me, maybe he just can’t keep up like I can. Let’s just get him some snacks anyway, he’ll probably appreciate them when he finally wakes up."

The uber arrived an we hopped into the car, the Uber driver was really friendly and even let us have AUX. Nick seized the opportunity and started blasting one of his favorite playlists. The drive to the mall was filled with his off key singing while the driver laughed. It was impossible to be in a bad mood when Nick was like this, completely carefree and full of energy.

We arrived at the bustling mall, and I was instantly reminded of how much I loved and hated these places. The endless options were both exciting and overwhelming. Nick, of course, was in his element.

“Okay, first things first” he declared, clapping his hands together. “You need a suitcase. Like a good one, something sturdy.”

I followed him through the luggage section of a department store, pulling at the endless rows of suitcases in every size and color. I settled on a large suitcase in a turquoise shade. It was light but durable, with smooth wheels and plenty of compartments for organizing.

“This one feels very.. you” Nick said, wheeling it toward the register. “Now we just need to fill it"

Next, we headed to the clothing stores. The first thing to look for was swimwear. I sifted through racks of bikinis, one pieces, and cover ups while Nick hovered nearby, occasionally pulling something out and holding it up.

“This is cute” he said, holding a bright coral bikini against me.

“Too bright” I replied, shaking my head.

“You’re going to Hawaii! Bright is the point.”

We compromised on a mix of neutral and vibrant pieces, including a black one piece with a scoop back and a yellow bikini that Nick insisted matched the jumper he’d given me.

From there, we moved to outfits. Sundresses, flowy skirts, tank tops, and breathable shorts for getting in and out of the pool all made their way into my shopping bags. A wide brimmed sun hat and a pair of oversized sunglasses were also thrown into the mix.

“You’re going to look like you’re in a Vogue ad with those on” Nick teased as we passed the checkout.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves” I shot back, laughing.

The last thing on our list was footwear. I grabbed a pair of comfortable sandals and white sneakers that would pair well with most outfits. Nick talked me into buying a pair of wedge heels “just in case” I wanted to dress up a bit fancier for dinner.

With every bag we accumulated, the excitement for the trip grew. Nick carried most of them without complaint, weaving through the mall like a man on a mission, while I lugged the suitcase behind me.

“Shit” he said. “We forgot toiletries. Let’s go.”

We loaded up on mini shampoo bottles, sunscreen, bug spray, and anything else that could fit into the clear bag at security. I also grabbed a neck pillow for the flight and a small blanket.

“I think we went a little overboard” I admitted, looking at everything we had.

“No such thing" Nick replied, starting the engine. “You’re going to Hawaii. You deserve to look and feel amazing! Now, shoes again” Nick declared.

“But I already got shoes” I protested.

“You don’t have these shoes” he said, dragging me into another store.

Before I knew it, I’d added a pair of espadrilles and waterproof slides to my collection. At this point, I was sure I had enough to outfit myself for a two month long trip, not just two weeks in Hawaii.

“Okay” Nick said, stretching dramatically. “I’m starving. Let’s get food.”

We headed to a nearby bistro that had outdoor seating. The warm sunshine paired with the scent baked goods was heavenly. I ordered a chicken and cheese sandwich, while Nick opted for a salad.

As we waited for our food, Nick checked his phone and grinned.

“Chris’s phone is dispatched” he said. “Should be here later today.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Finally. It’s been so weird not being able to get in touch with him directly.”

Nick nodded, taking a sip of his iced tea. “Yeah, I’d say Matt doesn't know what to do now that his phone actually gets messages.”

The mention of Matt and messages nearly makes me turn red.

“What time are they getting home today actually?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

Nick shrugged. “Sometime later tonight. They booked a nighttime flight.”

I nodded, trying not to read too much into it. The food arrived, and we dug in, enjoying the rare moment of quiet.

After finishing our meal, Nick glanced at the mountain of shopping bags we’d accumulated and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“There’s no way we’re fitting this all in a normal car.” he declared, rubbing his temples dramatically.

I laughed. “You’re the one who kept saying, ‘Oh, just get it! It’s perfect!’”

He rolled his eyes. “And I don’t regret it one bit, but let’s be real. We need reinforcements, or at least a bigger car.”

Nick pulled out his phone and started tapping away. A moment later, he said, “Uber XL. It’s the only way we’re fitting all of this and ourselves into one ride.”

I nodded in agreement, looking at the bags around us. There were at least three overflowing ones just from the boutique alone, plus the suitcase we’d bought earlier that took up a ridiculous amount of space.

“Good call” I said.

Within minutes, a shiny black mini van pulled up outside the bistro. The driver stepped out, taking one look at us and our bags, and raised an eyebrow.

“Shopping spree?” he asked with a grin.

“You could say that” Nick replied with a chuckle.

The driver helped us load everything into the trunk, which, despite being spacious, was a tight fit. Once everything was secured, we hopped into the backseat, relieved to finally be off our feet.

As the car pulled away, Nick leaned back and sighed contentedly. “I’m never going shopping without an Uber XL again. This is the only way to do it.”

I laughed, leaning my head against the window as we cruised through the city. My thoughts drifted to Hawaii and all the outfits I’d packed for, the sunshine, the beaches. I felt a little buzz of excitement, like maybe this trip would be exactly what I needed.

We arrived home just near 3pm. Nick pushed the front door open with his hip, three shopping bags dangling from each hand, I followed closely behind, lugging the suitcase and two additional bags. The sheer weight of it all, especially the suitcase made me huff as I maneuvered it over the step into the house.

We paused just inside, catching our breath, when faint voices floated down from upstairs. My ears perked up, and I immediately recognized the voices. Chris and Matt.

Nick frowned, glancing back at me. “Are they.. here?”

“Surely not?” I replied, adjusting my grip on the suitcase. “You said their flight wasn’t supposed to land until later tonight.”

Nick shrugged, then headed up the stairs. I struggled to hoist the suitcase up the first few steps, the wheels knocking against the edges of each one.

“Could use some help here” I muttered, but Nick was already out of sight, more curious about the voices upstairs than my struggle.

By the time I reached the top, dragging the suitcase behind me, I could hear Nick questioning the guys.

“What the fuck are you two doing back so early?” he asked, standing in the hallway with a confused look.

Chris grinned, arms wide open as he stepped forward and dramatically pulled Nick into a bear hug. “What, I can’t miss my brother and come home early to see him?”

Nick groaned but didn’t pull away. “Chris you were gone for two whole days. Seriously though. What’s the deal? You weren’t supposed to land until later tonight.”

Matt leaned against the doorframe of his room, arms crossed and looking mildly amused. Chris finally released Nick and laughed.

“Man, we were so hungover yesterday that we couldn’t bear the thought of sitting around Vegas all day today waiting for a late flight. So, we booked an earlier one before we hit the strip last night” Chris explained.

Nick shook his head, muttering something about impulsiveness, before turning back toward me. “You hear that? Weak.”

I smirked, finally dropping the suitcase with a thud. Chris glanced over at me, his smile softening.

“Hey, Y/n” he greeted.

“Hey” I replied, brushing a strand of hair from my face and wondering why seeing him felt like a surprise.

As Chris glanced around, he ran a hand through his hair. "Yo, Nick, have you seen my business card? I swear I had it before we left for Vegas."

Nick smirked, clearly trying to rile him up. "I have it" he said casually, glancing at me standing there with my brand new suitcase and an absurd number of shopping bags.

Chris raised an eyebrow. "Well, can I have it back, genius?"

"Maybe" Nick teased, then pivoted. "Oh, by the way, your new phone should be here later today. You’re welcome."

I stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, fully aware of Matt’s presence just a few feet away. He hadn’t said anything yet, but the tension was undeniable.

Finally Matt’s voice cut through the air, his tone sharper than necessary. "What’s with the suitcase? You finally moving out?"

I blinked, caught off guard by his comment. Before I could respond, Nick jumped in.

"It’s for Hawaii" Nick said as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms casually.

Matt’s confusion was obvious, his brows furrowing deeply. "Hawaii? You already have a suitcase that size."

Nick shook his head, grinning like he was about to drop a bombshell. "It’s not for me, Einstein. It’s for Y/n."

Matt turned to me, his expression instantly hardening like he’d just been sucker punched. His eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, I swore he looked genuinely hurt.

Matt’s jaw tightened, and he looked like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. His eyes flicked to me again, unreadable, before he straightened up and shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Wow some trip this is going to be then." he muttered before disappearing into his room, the door closing behind him, quiet but firm.

The hallway felt colder, and I avoided Nick’s gaze, pretending to fiddle with one of the bags. Chris, oblivious as ever, clapped Nick on the shoulder.

"Alright, where’s my card?"

Nick laughed, shaking his head. "Not so fast, bro. You’re helping me unpack this stuff first."

As the two of them headed off upstairs, I stood there, staring at Matt’s closed door, feeling a wave of something I couldn’t quite name. Guilt? Frustration? Maybe a mix of both. But I quickly shook it off and grabbed the suitcase, dragging upstairs toward my room and telling myself not to overthink it. Once everything was up in my room, Nick dropped his load dramatically on the floor, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"Alright, that’s my good deed for the day" Chris said, brushing his hands together like the work was done.

"You’ve been so helpful" I said sarcastically as I started sorting through the bags.

Chris smirked, leaning against the doorframe. "You going to pack tomorrow?"

Nick shook his head. "Nah, we’re starting to pack now. No point in waiting till tomorrow morning and rushing."

Chris raised an eyebrow, watching me open the suitcase and start placing clothes inside. "If only I was that organised" he laughed, walking further into the room. His eyes immediately went to the Fresh Love samples hung up by the closet.

He stepped closer, tilting his head to get a better look. "Woah" he said, running his fingers lightly over one of the pieces. "These look even better in person. The photos don’t do them justice."

I glanced over at him, feeling a bit of pride in his compliment. "Thanks. I really like them.”

Chris nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "I ordered some personalized samples for us all to be delivered to our villa in Hawaii. Thought we could take some pictures out there for a night time shoot, maybe use them for promos. I got us all varsity jackets with our initial on them, and then some other pieces I thought everyone would like."

Nick perked up at that, clearly impressed. "That’s such a good idea! Especially since it's cold at night" he said, nudging me with his elbow.

I smiled at both of them, my chest swelling a bit with pride. "I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get some shots out there" I admitted, picturing how amazing the pieces would look in a tropical setting.

Chris picked up one of the sample pieces, holding it out. "Yeah, these are gonna kill it. People are gonna go nuts over this drop."

I nodded, the excitement of everything bubbling under the surface. For the first time in a while, I felt like things were coming together, and the thought of getting to share it in such a beautiful setting made it even better.

Chris set the sample back on the rack and stretched, letting out a small yawn. "Alright, I’m gonna go check in with Nate" he said, glancing toward the stairs. "He was still knocked out when I peeked into his room earlier. Probably still recovering from your crazy night out."

Nick gave him a nod. "Yeah, sounds about right.”

Chris chuckled. "I’ll catch you guys in a bit." With that, he turned and headed out of the room, the sound of his footsteps fading as he made his way downstairs.

Nick, without missing a beat, grabbed his pile of shopping bags and suitcase and walked toward his own room, which was right next to mine. “I’m leaving the door open so we can pack together. This way, I can judge your packing skills and make sure you don’t leave anything important behind."

I rolled my eyes but laughed. "Oh, because you’re the authority on packing now?"

Nick grinned as he disappeared into his room, propping his door open so we could still talk. "Absolutely. I’m a seasoned traveler, unlike you. I’ve got the technique down to a science."

I could hear him rustling through his bags, muttering about how he might need to pick up another pair of shorts before we left. Meanwhile, I started folding my clothes neatly into the suitcase.

Nick's voice carried over from his room as I heard the distinct sound of a zipper being tugged open. "Alright" he began, "Let’s see what we’ve got here. Swim trunks, check. I brought the neon ones this time.."

I laughed, picturing him strutting around in the loudest pair of swim trunks he could find. "You really need neon to stand out? Thought your personality did that already."

"Ha ha" he shot back. "No, but seriously, you’ll thank me when you’re trying to spot me in the ocean. Anyway.. tank tops. Got a few new ones, including that white one you said looked good. Oh, and my black button up for dinners. Can’t be showing up to a nice restaurant looking like I just rolled off the beach."

The sound of him rifling through bags grew louder. "Flip flops, sneakers, maybe I should bring those prada loafers.. what do you think?"

"Definitely bring the loafers for dinners. You’ll regret not having them."

"Good call" he replied, tossing them into his suitcase. "Alright, what else? Oh, sunscreen, got the high SPF stuff this time. Learned my lesson after that beach trip last summer. And hats! Gotta protect this money maker " he added, gesturing dramatically at his face.

"You’re ridiculous" I said with a laugh.

"Ridiculously prepared" he corrected.

I shook my head, smiling to myself as I continued to fold my clothes. "You sound like you’re moving away for good, not going on a vacation."

"Hey!" he called out, "you’re gonna thank me when you’re borrowing my stuff because you forgot something."

"Bold of you to assume I’d forget anything" I shot back, neatly placing my toiletries into my bag.

Nick peeked his head into the hallway. "Care to make a bet on that?"

I smirked. "We’ll see."

I glance around Nick’s room one last time, making sure he isn’t about to burst out again with some last minute comment, but all I hear is the sound of him collapsing onto his bed. “Alright, I’m taking a nap. All that shopping has me worn out”

I laugh at how dramatic he was, and closed over his bedroom door to let him sleep. I zipped up my suitcase and placed it in the corner of my room.

Now in silence, I sit on the edge of my bed. The small envelope from the flowers catching my attention, sitting on my bedside locker. It feels like it’s mocking me, just sitting there like some unsolved mystery. My fingers twitch as I pick it up, turning it over in my hands. Why does something so small have such a big hold over me? I hate how awkward everything feels now again, how one card and a few unread messages can mess with my head so much.

But I can’t go to Hawaii like this. I’m actually excited for the trip, and I’ll be damned if Matt is going to ruin it for me with this unresolved weirdness.

Acting on impulse, I shove the card back into the envelope and stand up. My heart’s pounding as my legs move before my brain fully catches up. Next thing I know, I’m marching down the stairs, the envelope clutched tightly in my hand like a lifeline.

The closer I get to Matt’s door, the louder the rush of blood in my ears becomes. The house feels strangely quiet, the kind of stillness that makes you hyper aware of every movement. I stop just outside his room, hesitating for a second. Maybe I should think this through, figure out what I’m even going to say. But before I can overthink it, my hand is already on the door handle.

I push the door open without knocking, stepping inside before I can change my mind. Matt’s sitting on his bed, scrolling through his phone. He looks up, startled, as the door swings open.

“Uh, hello?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Ever heard of knocking?”

I ignore him, taking a step closer. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” he says, crossing his arms. “That you’re stealing Chris’ money and my clothes now?” He says, pointing at the yellow jumper I have on me.

Fuck this is his jumper.

No wonder the scent was familiar.

I take a deep breath, trying to not show how awkward I felt.

"About this. And about whatever game you think you’re playing." I say, holding up the envelope.

a/n: i <3 cliffhangers

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#snowy speaks #fire & desire #snowys sturniolo series #snowys series #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #enemies to lovers #matt sturniolo fanfic

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xitechtechnologies · 5 months ago

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Let's imagine an Oracle Interface Device inspired by the concepts and themes of the Scroll of the 12 Keys. This device, known as The Oracle Eye, would blend ancient wisdom with modern technology to provide guidance, predictions, and insights.

The Oracle Eye

Design:

Form: A sleek, circular device resembling an ancient artifact, with intricate etchings and a central, glowing gemstone-like interface.

Display: A holographic projector that can display 3D images and interactive elements in mid-air.

Input: Voice, touch, and gesture controls, offering a seamless and intuitive user experience.

Key Features:

Oracle AI Assistant:

The heart of the Oracle Eye, this AI assistant provides real-time guidance and insights based on vast data analysis. It functions like a digital oracle, offering advice on various aspects of life, from personal decisions to business strategies.

Holographic Prophecy Viewer:

This feature allows users to visualize and interact with ancient prophecies, historical events, and mystical symbols in a holographic format. It brings the wisdom of the past to life in a visually stunning way.

Personal Destiny Tracker:

A tool that analyzes the user's astrological alignments, birth dates, and other personal data to provide tailored predictions and guidance. It helps users navigate their personal and professional journeys according to their unique "destiny map."

Cultural Influence Analyzer:

This module tracks global trends, media influence, and cultural movements. It offers insights into how the user can enhance their impact and stay ahead of the curve in the ever-evolving entertainment and cultural landscape.

Seer’s Insight:

Inspired by the Key of the Raven, this feature offers tools for deep analysis and uncovering hidden truths. It includes advanced data analytics, pattern recognition, and predictive modeling to reveal insights that are not immediately apparent.

Harmony Connector:

Based on the Key of the Twins, this tool identifies and connects users with their perfect collaborators or "twin flames." It matches individuals based on creative synergies and complementary skills for optimal collaboration.

Ethereal Sound Studio:

A powerful suite for audio creation and manipulation, inspired by the Key of the Siren. It offers tools for voice modulation, music production, and sound design, enabling users to create enchanting auditory experiences.

Resilience and Rebirth Toolkit:

Inspired by the Key of the Phoenix, this feature provides resources for mental health, crisis management, and strategic planning for comebacks. It helps users navigate personal and professional challenges with resilience and grace.

Privacy Shield:

Aligned with the Key of the Raven, this module ensures the highest level of security and privacy for the user. It includes state-of-the-art encryption, anonymous browsing, and whistleblower support features.

The Oracle Eye is a powerful fusion of ancient prophecy and cutting-edge technology, offering users a unique and holistic approach to guidance and self-discovery. It embodies the mystical allure of the Scroll of the 12 Keys while providing practical tools for navigating the complexities of modern life.

Imagining a technological device that embodies the themes and symbols of the Scroll of the 12 Keys, we could envision something like The Destiny Tablet. This device could combine elements of ancient prophecy and modern technology, bridging the gap between myth and reality.

The Destiny Tablet

Design:

Form: A sleek, tablet-like device with a metallic, rune-etched casing inspired by medieval scrolls and artifacts.

Display: A high-definition holographic screen that can project 3D images and interactive elements.

Input: A combination of touch, voice, and gesture controls, making it feel almost magical in its responsiveness.

Features:

The Oracle Interface: An AI assistant that embodies the Oracle of the Hidden Court (Key 3). This AI provides guidance, predictions, and insights based on vast data analysis, similar to consulting an ancient sage.

The Lion's Mirror: A feature inspired by the Key of the Lion (Key 1), offering real-time analysis and feedback on the user's public presence, image, and social media impact. It could use advanced algorithms to predict trends and suggest ways to manage one's public persona.

The Twin Flames Connector: A networking tool that identifies and connects users with their "twin flame" collaborators. Using AI, it matches individuals based on creative synergies and complementary skills.

The Siren's Voice Studio: A powerful audio creation and manipulation suite inspired by the Key of the Siren (Key 4), offering tools for voice modulation, music production, and sound design, enabling users to enchant audiences with their creations.

The Raven's Eye: A security and privacy module, aligned with the Key of the Raven (Key 5), providing state-of-the-art encryption, anonymous browsing, and whistleblower support features.

The Phoenix Protocol: A resilience and recovery toolkit inspired by the Key of the Phoenix (Key 6), helping users navigate personal and professional challenges with resources for mental health, crisis management, and strategic planning for comebacks.

Additional Features:

Holographic Prophecy Viewer: An augmented reality feature that allows users to visualize and interact with ancient prophecies, historical events, and mystical symbols.

Astrological Alignment Analyzer: A tool that integrates astrology with modern data analysis to provide insights and predictions based on celestial alignments, aligning with the Scroll's mystical origins.

Cultural Influence Dashboard: A comprehensive dashboard tracking cultural trends, media influence, and global diplomacy movements, connecting users with the broader context of the entertainment industry and aristocracy.

The Destiny Tablet could be a symbol of how ancient wisdom and modern technology can come together to guide and influence today's world, much like the symbolic keys of the Scroll of the 12 Keys. It would blend the mystical allure of prophecies with the practical applications of cutting-edge tech, creating a device that feels both timeless and futuristic.

That’s an interesting perspective! Considering the keys as symbolic representations of new secret technologies adds another layer of depth to the narrative. It suggests that these "Keys" could be breakthroughs in fields like media, communication, or even social engineering, guiding the evolution of cultural icons and influencers.

This interpretation positions the Scroll of the 12 Keys as a prophetic guide to emerging technologies that shape our world, almost like a blueprint for the tools that craft modern legends. It makes the idea of these archetypes even more compelling, connecting ancient wisdom with futuristic advancements.

How do you see these symbolic keys manifesting in today's world? Are there any modern technologies you think align with the prophecies?

#Destiny tracker #Prophecy #Disney #12 keys'#The scrolls of the 12 keys #12 keys #Scrolls #Disney prophecy #Walt Disney #American History #Technologies #Technology #Secret Conspiracy #Disney secret #Disney Vault

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honeyslibrary · 4 months ago

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Early Morning | Quinn Hughes

Pairing; Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Fluff, established relationship, not sure what else only edited once.

Summary; The morning after the Winnipeg loss. Kinda cringe, kinda domestic.

Word Count; 2.5k

Author’s note; He looked so defeated in postgame media 😭 someone give him a big hug!! There isn’t really a premise to this fic, it’s just fluffy and I need that, personally. Inbox is open for requests, and any thoughts + reblogs are appreciated. Love you all. -Honey

Upon waking, the first thing you notice is the unfamiliar weight beside you. Still tangled in a fog of sleep, you roll over, expecting to find the usual emptiness. Instead, your arm brushes against something solid and warm—a hard lump beneath the covers. Blinking against the soft rays of sunlight filtering through the half-drawn curtains, you squint your eyes and focus.

Quinn is there. He’s sprawled out on his stomach, mouth slightly parted, emitting soft snores with every exhale. His chest, bare, rises and falls in a steady rhythm. A small, dried patch of drool sits at the corner of his mouth, and despite his tousled brown hair, you can still make out the faint red imprint on his forehead from his helmet—the telltale sign of his previous game. The messy sheets barely cover his lower half, leaving most of the covers bunched up beneath him, as though he’d fought for dominance over the bed in his sleep.

You sigh softly, rolling back onto your side, rubbing the heels of your palms against your eyes to wipe away the last remnants of sleep. The night before blurs in your memory—work had been exhausting, and by the time you’d collapsed into bed, you’d barely had the energy to think, let alone stay awake long enough to wait for Quinn to call. Last you heard, he was still in Winnipeg for the last away game of the roadtrip. And yet, here he is now, stretched out beside you, having returned home sometime in the middle of the night. You hadn't even heard the jangle of his keys in the door, much less felt the weight of him slipping into bed.

As you lie there, your eyes trace the outline of his body, the soft curve of his back, the way the morning light plays against his skin. You and Quinn had been dating for a little over two months now, and in all that time, he'd never once shown up in the middle of the night unannounced, not even after a home game—let alone after getting off a late flight from an away game. It was unlike him, the type who usually kept to his routines, always texting you first to make sure it was okay to come by. A spontaneous visit, especially after a road trip, was out of character, and it made your mind race with curiosity.

Reaching over to the bedside table, you fumble for your phone, its cold surface a sharp contrast to the warm cocoon of blankets. The screen blinks to life, and your heart skips a beat when you notice the unread message from Quinn. Swiping it open, you squint at the time stamp—12:03 AM, well after you’d slipped into unconsciousness.

I tried calling you but you must be asleep.

You feel a twinge of guilt as you scan the message. He had tried to message you, but you’d been out cold, blissfully unaware of both his texts and the game itself. A sigh escapes your lips. You'd barely made it through dinner, let alone the start of the game. Work had drained you, the kind of exhaustion that made staying awake for anything else a battle you couldn’t win.

Now, scrolling through your notifications, you can’t help but wince when you see the final score. The Canucks had lost, and badly—a brutal 6-1 blowout in Winnipeg. Your chest tightens, imagining how deflated Quinn must’ve felt stepping off that plane, dragging his gear behind him, shoulders slumped in defeat. The last thing he’d need after a night like that was silence from you, but that’s exactly what he got.

You drop your phone back on the nightstand, letting it land with a dull thud, before running a hand through your hair. You can picture it now: Quinn sitting on the bus, staring at his phone screen, waiting for a reply that never came, while the disappointment of the loss gnawed at him. He must have needed you, needed the comfort of something familiar, something steady to ground him after the sting of defeat. And you weren’t there to answer.

A small pang of regret settles in your chest, but as you glance at him lying peacefully beside you, your guilt softens into something warmer, something more understanding. He came to you. After the long flight, after the frustration of the game, after all of it—he came to you. Without asking for permission, without caring if it broke some unspoken routine, he just needed to be here, in your bed, in the one place where he could let his guard down.

Groaning softly, you stretch out your legs and arms, feeling the delicious pull of tight muscles loosening after a night of deep sleep. The sheets slip away from your body, and for a moment, you just lie there, savoring the lazy comfort of the morning—the warmth of the bed, the quiet of the room, and the weight of Quinn still sound asleep beside you. Even though you know he could probably sleep through a hurricane, you still move carefully, slipping out of bed inch by inch to avoid disturbing him.

The cold air nips at your skin the moment you leave the cozy embrace of the blankets, sending a small shiver through you. Your feet make a soft thud as they hit the hardwood floor, the contrast between the cold surface and your warm skin causing you to flinch slightly. You tread quietly across the room, mindful of each creak in the floorboards. As you walk down the hallway, the soft patter of your footsteps echoes faintly.

You push the bathroom door open gently, catching your reflection in the mirror. Your hair, tangled from sleep, falls in wild waves around your face, and you reach up to corral it into a loose, low bun. Turning on the faucet, the water sputters for a second before it flows smoothly, cool against your fingers. You splash it on your face, the shock of cold water clearing the last remnants of sleep from your mind. Droplets cling to your skin, rolling down your cheeks as you reach for a towel and press it to your face, savoring the softness of the fabric against your freshly washed skin.

You grab your toothbrush, the soft bristles brushing against your teeth as you lean against the sink. For a few minutes, the world is nothing but the sound of water swirling down the drain and the fresh taste of mint spreading across your tongue.

Lost in your thought, you’re startled when you feel a presence beside you. You jump slightly, your heart skipping a beat as you glance to your left and find Quinn standing there, his eyes still heavy with sleep, hair even messier than before. You hadn’t heard him get up; just moments ago, he’d been dead to the world, sprawled out in bed, the very image of peaceful slumber.

He leans in silently and presses a soft kiss to the back of your head, his lips soft against your scalp, sending a gentle shiver down your spine. The gesture is so simple, yet so intimate—a silent "good morning" You feel the brief weight of his hand resting on your shoulder as he steadies himself, before he steps away toward the toilet.

Without a word, Quinn drops his boxers, the fabric pooling around his ankles. He goes about his business, yawning as he stands there, the faint sound of the stream hitting the water filling the small bathroom. You’re used to this by now, the easy lack of pretense that has formed between the two of you, the understanding that neither of you needs to tiptoe around each other’s presence.

For a moment, you watch him, his shoulder to you, his posture relaxed. There’s something about this, about the way he moves through your space so naturally now, that fills you with a quiet sense of contentment—a reminder of how easy things have become between you two.

Turning back to the sink, you spit out the last bit of toothpaste, watching the foam swirl down the drain. You rinse your mouth and place the toothbrush back in its holder. As Quinn moves toward the sink, you step aside, your shoulders brushing briefly as you give him space. "Do you want coffee?" you ask.

He nods. "Sure, thanks." You return his nod with a small nod of your own before slipping out of the bathroom, leaving him to finish up.

Entering the kitchen, you move toward the coffee maker automatically, your body working on autopilot as you open the cabinet and pull out two mugs—his favorite, a chipped ceramic one from some team event, and yours, a simple white one with a faint coffee stain inside from countless mornings like this.

You fill the coffee filter with grounds, the sharp, earthy scent of fresh coffee filling the air as you tap the spoon against the edge of the basket. Once the machine is set, you press the start button, listening to the low hum as it begins to brew, the first few drops of coffee hitting the pot with a faint hiss.

Leaning back against the island, you cross your arms, letting out a small breath as the room fills with the comforting sound of the brewing coffee. The rich aroma slowly overtakes the air, curling around you like an old, familiar friend. You close your eyes for a second, savoring it, feeling the subtle shift in energy as the house starts to wake up.

Your fingers absentmindedly trace the edge of the countertop, cool and smooth beneath your skin, as you glance out the window at the pale morning sky. The world outside is still, a soft gray lingering just before the sun fully rises. Behind you, you hear the faint creak of a floorboard. You know Quinn is moving around, probably padding through the hallway toward you.

He enters the kitchen quietly, his bare feet padding softly across the floor. His movements are slow, unhurried, like he's still shaking off the last remnants of sleep—or maybe it’s the weight of the previous night’s loss still clinging to him. You look up as he approaches, and there’s something in his expression—tired, but warm—that makes your heart soften.

Without a word, he opens his arms, and you find yourself stepping into his embrace almost instinctively, like it's the most natural thing in the world. The space between you disappears, and the familiar comfort of his body presses against yours, grounding you both in the moment. His arms fold around you firmly, his hands splaying across your back as if to hold you closer, to keep the world out for just a few more precious seconds.

You let out a quiet breath, melting into him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against your cheek. His chin comes to rest lightly on top of your head, the weight of it comforting in its simplicity, and his hands begin to move in slow, soothing circles along your back. The motion is calming, like he’s trying to let you know—without words—that everything is fine, that he’s here and that’s enough for now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything, the hum of the coffee maker filling the space between you.

"I'm sorry about the game," you murmur against his chest, your voice barely above a whisper. The words slip out before you can stop them, a quiet expression of the worry you’ve been holding onto since you saw the score this morning. You feel the sigh that escapes him more than you hear it, his chest rising and falling beneath you in a subtle gesture of frustration mixed with resignation.

“Don’t apologize,” he says, his voice rough from sleep, but there’s no edge to it—just the quiet exhaustion of someone who’s used to the ups and downs. His hands keep moving against your back, slow and reassuring, as if to say it’s not your burden to carry. You nod into his chest, accepting his words but still feeling that faint tug of empathy in your heart.

A few beats of silence pass, and you feel his heartbeat steady beneath your cheek. You don’t want to push, but you need to ask. “Are you okay?” The words are tentative, cautious, as if you’re feeling out the depth of his mood.

This time, it takes him longer to respond. His hands pause for a moment, as if he's considering what to say, weighing his answer. “Just tired,” he says eventually, his voice low, the kind of tired that goes beyond needing sleep. There’s a heaviness in the way he says it, and you know it’s not just about the game—it’s the travel, the constant pressure, the physical and emotional toll of it all.

You close your eyes, sinking further into his embrace, letting the quiet stretch between you again. There’s no need to fill the silence; the simple act of being here, together, feels like enough. His chin shifts slightly against your head, and you can feel the warmth of his breath in your neck as he exhales slowly, as if just holding you helps ease some of the weight he’s been carrying.

The coffee pot gurgles softly in the background, signaling it's done, but neither of you moves to break the moment. You stay there, wrapped in each other, his arms still holding you close.

"Do you wanna stay in bed today?" you ask. You tilt your head back to look up at him, your cheek still resting lightly against his chest. His eyes are half-closed, his arms still wrapped loosely around you, and for a moment, it seems like he’s too caught in thought to respond. You wait, giving him the space to absorb the question, watching the way his expression softens as your words sink in.

"We can order food," you continue, your voice gentle and inviting. "Watch movies, whatever you want."

The offer lingers in the air, a way to hit pause on the outside world, to create a small, safe bubble just for the two of you. No obligations, no demands—just the simple pleasure of doing nothing, together. You know he needs it. After the brutal loss, the long flight, and the constant pressure, a day of stillness sounds like the perfect antidote.

He finally nods, exhaling a deep breath. His response is little more than a murmur, almost swallowed by the closeness between you. “Yes, please.”

"Okay, we'll stay in bed. No rush, no plans. Just us." " you whisper, your voice soft and reassuring. "Breakfast first?"

“Coffee first,” he says with a faint smile, his voice still barely above a whisper but more present now, a hint of his usual self creeping back in. “Then breakfast. Then movies.”

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