#I never understood why that was a thing anyway

[harrysangel23]

Neglect*

A/N: I've returned with yet another fic!!! Hope y’all are excited because this ones lowkey a little unhinged (can't help myself when it comes to Harry's biceps yum). Anyways! I'm so glad to see you guys are liking my work so far!!! As a new writer, it's doing much better than I anticipated and I really appreciate the rebloggs, likes, and comments <3. Hope you guys enjoy this fic as much as the others!

Pairings: CEO soft dom H x subby reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Daddy kink, licking and biting, fingering f recieving, RAW p in v (wrap it before you tap it guys), and dirty talk.

WC: 4,392

Summary: Harry has been a little neglectful of his angel. After not seeing much of each other for days, Harry misses a planned and promised dinner togther. He finds a good way to make it up to her though;).

You knew how stressful Harry’s job could get and you understood when he had rough days how he just wanted to relax. There was nothing wrong with it. 

Running a company would be far more work than you could imagine so it made sense when he would be in a sour mood from a deal that had fallen through or partners not having his best interest. 

You learned to be as comforting as possible as everything he did was mainly for you and your relationship. 

But it’s also hard on you when it continuously happens day after day. Sure, every once in a while was normal, for anyone with a career, especially his. 

It had been 2 weeks since you’ve noticed a drastic change in Harry. You’d fall asleep by yourself, no longer having the comfort of strong arms wrapped around you and steady breathing to be heard in your ear as you drifted into your dreams. Same thing in the morning, you’d wake up to his side of the bed cold. It was almost as if he was never there throughout the night. On top of that, dinner and breakfast - which used to consist of each of you asking about the others day and light kisses placed every now and then- now consisted of you sitting alone at the table in the quiet home. 

If it wasn’t for the little things placed around the house or the short amount of time he’d be at home during the weekend, it would seem as though you didn’t live together. You’d notice the hand towel in the bathroom damp from his washing, or wrappers left on the counter as if he’d had a quick snack before he rushed out of the house. 

Sure you’d text, but his normal cheekiness was replaced with dry responses and sometimes the texts wouldn’t even be answered until hours later. 

If anything, the changes had made you scared and worried. You knew how time consuming his work could be and the effect it could take on him. But your relationship had never experienced this type of change for this long. 

So of course the doubts overwhelmed your mind. Was he irritated with you? Was he not interested anymore? What if he found someone else, someone that wasn’t immature and needy like you were? 

Of course there were never any signs that really made you think he thought these things of you. He always said how he adores how you want to be near him all the time. Despite that, you really can’t help it that this is what your mind turns to. 

As you used to spend nearly every minute of free time with him, dinners, or simply laying in bed, the harsh withdrawal was making your head spin. You hadn’t been able to communicate with him as you’d like. 

So you made the decision to stay up and wait for him. It was all in your head and simply talking to him in person for the first time in days would clear up everything… right?

Occupying yourself was difficult as the hours get later. You were restless trying to calm your nerves before you saw him. You shouldn’t be nervous though. It's Harry, the same Harry that would wake you up by pressing kisses all over your face and was able to make your toes curl when he hit all the right places. 

You glazed at the clock again and the time glared back at you: 1:53 A.M. Why was he so late? He used to be home by 6, calling your name and smiling brightly when he would see you making your way towards him in the doorway. 

You were soon pulled away from your thoughts as you heard the front door lightly close. He was home. You got up to walk towards the door of your bedroom and down the stairs. When you first saw him, you could see how disheveled he was. 

His curls lay flat as it looked he ran his hand through them one too many times. His tie hung loosely from his neck as he untightened it. His eyes seemed to hardly stay open. In his hand, held a glass as he poured liquor into it before taking a sip. 

Catching you out of the corner of your eye, his head whips to see your fragile frame standing at the end of the staircase. 

“What’re you doing up sweetheart, it's nearly 2 in the morning?” his voice was soft and he had  frown placed upon his lips

You shrugged and walked closer to stand in front of him. “I just haven’t seen you in a while H. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Your response was light as your wide eyes gazed up at him. 

“I’m sorry honey. Works been shit, I know I haven’t been around as much as I would like but I promise when this shits over I’ll be around you so much you might get sick of me.” He gave a small smile, before taking the cup of liquor back up to his mouth. 

“It’s okay H. I know how it gets and I’m sorry you have to deal with it,” Your arms moved to wrap around him, feeling him for the first time in what felt like ages. Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beating softly as his arms made their way around you too. “What if we have dinner tomorrow night? We can catch up and I’ll make a nice home cooked meal for you. Maybe watch a movie after?”

“I’d love nothing more angel, always so good to me aren’t you?” The double meaning made you blush but you hit yourself deeper in his chest, already feeling excited for the following night. “Promise I’ll be here at 6 on the dot, can’t wait to spend time with my favorite girl. Now go lay down, I’m going to get ready for bed and I’ll be with you in just a tick.” His arm around your waist slid down as he lightly patted your ass as a signal to move. 

You giddily made your way back up the stairs and jumped into bed, being excited to have the feeling of his arms around you again. 

Harry soon made his way to the bed as he finished up in the bathroom. Sliding in between the sheets, his arms immediately went around you and pulled your body as close as possible to his.

His hand rubbing your back, light kisses pressed to the top of your head made it easy for you to relax and drift off. After being deprived of his affection for days, you were the most comfortable you have ever been in your life. 

~

When you woke up, you thought you had imagined last night. Opening your eyes, his side of the bed was once again empty and cold. It was hard to refrain from frowning, but remembering the promise of a night together for the first time in ages, you couldn’t be too upset. 

Your excitement of dinner with your lover had you rushing to get out of bed and get ready for the day. You spent the day shopping for groceries, not being able to make up your mind on what to make him, your cart ending up being full with multiple ingredients. You decided to make a decision when you’d get home rather than right in the moment. Picking up snacks for the movie and grabbing his favorite sweets. 

Once arriving home in the afternoon, you were too giddy not to start. Deciding on a pasta dish, one of his favorites, you thought it’d be perfect for the occasion. 

Not having heard from him yet that day, you shrugged it off. After seeing him last night and feeling him, you were put at ease. He looked you in the eyes and promised to be home. You thought he was simply keeping busy at work to get ahead so he could finally be home at his normal time. 

However, those thoughts soon started slipping after it neared 6. 

The table had been set, food plated, you even dug out a fancy wine and poured it into both glasses. You sat sitting at the table with a frown on your face. He couldn’t possibly of forgotten?

You tried reassuring yourself. He's busy, he wants to be here, maybe he's just going to be held back a little past 6, no worries!

But when the clock neared 7 you felt less hopeful. 

You pulled out your phone, maybe he was on his way and stuck in traffic?

To: H💗- Hi honey, just wanted to check in… are you almost home? I love you 

You set your phone down on the table, watching it intensely as though that would make him respond faster. 

However, the text went unanswered as the minutes passed and you began to accept he wasn’t going to be home. 

Only a few bites were taken of your pasta before you decided you weren’t hungry anymore. You began cleaning up and putting the leftovers into containers. 

You wrapped his plate and left it in the fridge so he could still easily warm it up when he came home. 

As you moved to the bedroom you looked at the clock again to notice the time was past 11. Wanting to make one last attempt you reached for your phone and clicked his contact and pressed your phone to your ear. 

The ringing continued until his voicemail was heard. Hanging up you tossed your phone before running your hands over your face. 

Your chest felt achy. You couldn’t help as the disappointment was seeping through you. Having the built up frustration of no contact with him and Harry’s broken promise to be at home tonight, you felt tears slide down your face. 

You knew how important his job was to him but that didn’t mean being put on the back burner hurt any less.

Tears flowed as you made your way to the spare bedroom. Was it petty? Sure, but you didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as him despite the fact that he’ll slip out in the morning without a trace, like he was never there. 

Laying on your side the tears streaming down and soaked into the pillow case. All these emotions ran through your head, not really sure how exactly you should be feeling. 

Should you be completely understanding? His career is important, he worked so hard for it and provided you with everything you could ever want and more. 

Should you be angry? You planned this, got excited and put so much effort into a meal he couldn’t show up for after leaving you at home and deprived of his affection for 2 weeks. 

Should you be sad? He made you have expectations of him being home tonight and enjoy the night in together. He promised you to be here after being absent all those other nights and you just miss his presence. 

Your mind unsettled, tears never ending, and you weren’t sure how you managed to fall asleep. 

However, you were sure of being woken up from the gentle stroking of fingers through your hair and light kisses being pressed to your hand that was intertwined with his and held up to his mouth. 

Your eyes opened to find his on you already and a frown took over his face as he noticed the puffiness and redness that accommodated your eyes. Confirming his fears of you being upset with him, which you had every right to be in his mind. 

“Hi sweetheart.” He spoke softly to you and pressed more kisses to your hand and wrist as he sat crouched on the side of the bed. 

“Hi.” You whispered, eyes darting to the wall behind him, finding it difficult to look at him. Besides, that's really all he had to say for himself?

He sighed as he stood up and went to sit on the edge of the bed in front of your body. His hand that was stroking your hair moved to join his other, both now holding your hand and his lips consistently pressed kisses before he spoke up again. 

“I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am, angel.” 

You felt the tears crawl back up and your throat tighten at the reminder of last night and how excited you had been. You blinked continuously before just closing your eyes and responding “It’s fine.” 

“No, it’s not,” His grip tightened on your hand, “You were upset enough to sleep in here and I don’t blame you. I’ve been shit at being with you, I know that. Last night was my wake up call. I promise you-”

You cut him off, taking a dig at him, “Like you promised to be home last night? After I spent all day looking forward to you coming home and finally spending time with me? I don’t mean to be needy H, I know how important your job is to you and everything you’ve worked for. But I can’t shake how I felt last night and how you completely disregarded me yesterday. I’ve missed you, I’ve missed being around you and spending time with you. I don’t like being a second thought this consistently.” You felt the tears finally slip down your face as you pulled your hand away from his to wipe at them. 

Harry just looked at you, seeming at a loss of words. You could tell by his demeanor that he was sorry but it’s hard to just move past. 

“I don’t mean for it to come off as that love. I promise you are important to me, more than my career. I love spending time with you and I know how neglectful I’ve been. You have every right to be upset with me. I will spend everyday making it up to you and you have my word on this. I let it get out of control and I realize how upset you are and I don’t intend on making you feel like that ever again. You’re my girl, and my girl deserves nothing but the best.” His eyes looked urgently into yours, his hand resting on top of the sheets over your thighs. 

You move your hand to rest on top of his, eyes meeting him again. 

“I trust you H. I just don’t want this to happen again. I love being with you in our home and having time together. But if it’s just you leaving work late and going in early, it’s difficult for us to do that and makes everything harder. I love you and want this to work out more than anything.” 

“It will, I promise angel. I need you and I promise I won’t let this happen again.”

You nodded your head, as he began to lean down and pressed his lips to yours, muttering, “I’m sorry honey”, “It won’t happen anymore”, and “I hate seeing you upset”. 

At first the kiss was soft and slow, enjoying the feeling of both of you connected at the lips for the first time in forever. Then, slowly the urgency began to grow. Lips smacking could be heard as Harry moved to lay on top of you, holding himself up by his thick arms, lips never parting yours. Your mouth slightly opens as you go to lick as his bottom lip. He quickly followed, opening his mouth to you when your tongues licked the others. Feeling the excitement begin to pool in your panties you move your hands to grab his upper arms. 

It became a mess, spit pooling in the corners of your lips, him licking into your mouth. You began to whine as he began to grind down onto you. 

His hand slowly traced down your side, reading your shorts as he toyed with them. He parted from your lips, “May I, sweetheart?” 

Without hesitation you eagerly nodded your head and his fingers slipped below the shorts, under your panties and soon reached your soaking folds. His lips were shortly back on yours, pressing eagerly as he brought the fingers soaked in your juices up to your clit and began circling it. Your breath hitched, pausing the kisses, but that didn’t stop him from continuing. 

He pulled his fingers from you, but grabbed your shorts and shoving them down along with your panties before he returned them back to your wetness. 

His middle finger eventually made its way to your hole, where he made sure to get it covered before slipping it in. A sharp gasp was heard slipping from your mouth. You spent so long without having him like this, making it all the more rewarding. 

Harry’s kisses soon began to travel down your face as he reached your neck and lightly peppered them all over. His hand pulled back and was brought up to your face, where his ring and middle fingers were pressed against your lips. 

“Go ahead and slobber them up for me, puppy.” You were compliant, opening your mouth and giving him what he wanted. 

His fingers laid flat on your tongue as you sucked them, loving the taste. You had your tongue flick them up and down, swirled around them tasting your own excitement on them. He watched intensely as he pushed you by shoving them farther back, almost down your throat. You gagged but didn’t mind as saliva pooled in your mouth and got them slippery, just like he wanted. He groaned before he pulled them out and brought them back to your pussy before shoving them inside you without warning. 

You moaned, clenching around his fingers, loving how they felt inside of you. He quickly thrust them in and out, and placed more kisses down your neck to your collarbones. 

“Are you ready for my cock puppy, hm? Missed you so much it's aching to be inside this tight cunt of yours.” 

Your hips grinded up into his hands as an immediate reflex to the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Yes, yes, please d-daddy I missed your cock.” You whined at him, eyes glazing over. 

He didn’t need to be told twice. He sat up, quickly undoing his pants and tugging them down along with his boxers before stroking himself. He quickly sat back on his knees and gazed at your leaking cunt as his hand slid up and down his member, letting out a hiss and a curse under his breath at the contact. 

His cock was soon lined up with your hole as he pushed in and let out a groan, before he fell over top of you with one elbow holding him up on the side of your head, the other grasping your waist to keep you steady. 

His cock was pushed further and further inside of you before he bottomed out and held it there for a moment. 

The feeling of him inside of you was like no other. You felt so full and happy. Clenching around him, he moaned into your neck. 

“Jesus Christ puppy. Don’t know how I left you all alone for this long when you feel this fucking good. So mean of me, can’t tell you I’m sorry enough,” He pulled back and thrust himself back in, keeping his pace consistent. “You’re so tight and wet, cunts just leaking around my cock isn’t it baby.” You moaned in response, nails digging into his back. 

“Faster daddy p-please, feels so good, I missed you.” You felt tears leaking from how good it felt to have him back inside you filling you up and making the knot in your tummy grow. 

“So sweet f’me, I missed you too baby, never happening again. Feels so good.” His thrusts began to pick up as the wet noises of your bodies connecting was heard. 

Your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling of all the right places he was hitting. His cock felt so good in your pussy, like he was made just for you. You open your eyes to the feeling of his fingers on your clit, rubbing messy circles. 

Your moans were borderline pornographic at how good everything felt. His head leaning down to capture your lips as the messy smacking returned. His kisses trailed down to your neck as he began to nip at the skin and sooth it with his tongue. His thrusts sending the headboard into the wall, creating a loud thumping noise. You turned your head, giving him better access to your neck, hands climbing into his hair to tug, his thrusts not letting up. 

As your eyes focused on what was in your eyeline - his biceps. His sweaty, tatted, and muscular biceps looked too good to be true. It was flexing as he held himself up and how good you felt, you couldn’t restrain yourself from leaning closer and licking the sweat that was sliding down. He just looked too good, all sweaty and disheveled. You eagerly lapped at his biceps, moving your tongue all around before biting. Not enough to cause too much pain, but enough to leave a mark. You were such a needy slut for his body, especially the tattooed areas. 

You grow wetter at the remembrance of the tiger he had on his thigh and how you've always dreamed of riding it. How good it would feel to rub your wet pussy on it as he encouraages you, tells you what a good girl you are. How he'd make you kneel on the floor and lick up your juices that were left on it after you cum.

The filled in heart and the inked nails on the inner side got the most of your attention. As your tounge licked a fat stripe acrossed both of them, you whined at how hot he was. The top of the anatomical heart was also eagerly lapped and nipped at. They just looked too good to ignore.

Harry didn’t seem to mind as he let out a breathy laugh, almost amused at your fixation of his biceps. 

Once you started, you couldn’t stop from continuously biting, leaving little marks along his muscles. Although the tattoos made it hard to see a lot of them, that didn’t stop you. You licked over each mark that was left, collecting his sweat along the way. 

The immense arousal you had was overwhelming. His thrusts not letting him, neither was his hand on your little clit. Your clenching became more frequent the more he thrust and the more you had your fun with his bicep. 

“You gonna cum for me baby? Feel this cunt getting tighter and wetter by the second.” His words were whispered in your ear as he moved up from your neck to bite at your lobe. 

“Ye-yes daddy, I’m so close, so close I need it so bad.” Your breath was cooling as you breathed out your words against his slobbered up bicep and eagerly began licking stripes up it again.

Your hands pulled his hair as the knot grew more intense, he groaned against you before pulling your face back to meet his. 

“Wanna watch you cum for me. Go ahead and cum on my cock baby, cum like the good girl you are.” His sentence alone was enough to set you off, you felt it burst in your stomach as you cried out and clenched around him. Your mouth in an O shape as his lips met yours. “Thaaats it puppy, good fucking girl.” 

He kept thrusting, rubbing your clit to ride you through your orgasm as his approached. 

“Fuck you look so good. Can I come in this pretty pussy baby, hm? Is that okay?” His minty breath panted on you as you nodded with widened eyes.

“Yes yes, please come in my pussy daddy. Wanna feel your cum leak out of me.” You practically begged him. Curses slipped out of his mouth as he finally let go. 

His sweaty hair stuck to his head, sweat dripping down his face, and down his neck as he tilted it back moaning as his cum spilled into you. 

You once again couldn’t help yourself as you leaned up licking the sweat that dripped down him. There was something just so erotic about it that turned you on like nothing else. 

He kept thrusting into you as his cum filled up your pussy. You kept tounging at his neck and nibbling to show your immense appreciation. 

“Jesus fuck baby felt so fucking good. Did so good for me, I love you.” His thrusting stopped at his head tilted to look at you again. Harry’s lips connected with yours showing all the appreciation he could. 

“I love you so much.” You murmured against his lips. 

He pulled out of you sooner than you would’ve liked, as his cum slowly followed. He intensely watched it drip out of your cunt as he let out a “fuck” under his breath as his chest heaved. 

You were completely spent. Laying down with your eyes closed but you could still feel the weight of him shifting off the mattress. You quickly opened your eyes and whined as you grabbed his hand to keep him from leaving. 

“It’s okay baby, just gonna run to the bathroom to grab something to clean you up, I’ll be right back.” He leaned down, pressing a chaste kiss on your lips. You reluctantly let go of his hand as he moved to the bathroom. 

Hearing a drawer close, he soon returned next to you and lightly wiped at the cum leaking from your pussy. 

Accidently, he nudged your clit with the fabric, causing you to twitch and a grunt to leave your lips. 

“I’m sorry baby, I’ll be more careful.” He leaned down, and his lips pressed a light kiss onto your clit.

“Don’t be mean H.” You glared at him as he let out a light laugh. 

His body moved back up, where he leaned down pressing another kiss, this time to your lips. 

“I love you angel. Wanna get up and we can go back to bed? Can spend all of tomorrow together if you’d like? Whatever you want.” he grinned at you as you brush your fingers through the loose curl against his forehead. 

“I love you too Harry. Can we shower first?” Your voice light as he nodded and grabbed your hand to help you sit up. 

“I’d love nothing more.” 

You both walked to the bathroom before taking off the remaining clothes that lingered on your bodies and stepping into the warm water. 

“No funny business, I’m spent and have a whole list of ideas we can do today.” You look up at him accusingly. 

“That’s so weird, I also have a list of things we can do today.” His cheeky undertone led you to quirk and eyebrow at him for him to continue. “I meant I have a whole list of things I can do to you today.” 

You blushed, feeling heat crawl up your face as you hid yourself in his chest while he just laughed and helped you clean yourself.

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 20

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, slight sexual content and language, cheating, so long for no reason Wordcount: 12.3K A/C: guys i don't know if this chapter is giving what i wanted it to give so if you hate it ntm on me ok? (this is me asking for reassurance...) anyway live reactions always welcome, ty for being patient!!

-

London

“My feet are killing me,” I groan in the back of All Bar One, looking out to the front at what felt like a thousand customers waiting to be served. Em, who reminded me sometimes of a short-haired Paige with her style, pushes a mulled wine to my hand.

“Drink it, quick!” She hisses, looking around while downing hers. Of course it’s not allowed, staff shouldn’t be consuming alcohol. But the night had been long and truthfully I didn’t care about this job enough. So I do the same.

“What the hell,” I nearly spit it out, something stronger burning my throat than just wine.

“I added a little vodka,” she whispers. I let out a laugh followed by a hiss, the bottoms of my feet aching. I couldn’t wait for this shift to be over.

Sometimes I felt like Em was the only person in my life I could be my new self around. Not the overly cautious Izara who never took risks. I got to be fun and do things just for the hell of it. Like I used to in Dallas. Not that we were close, just coworkers. But it felt like she understood me a lot more than everyone else around me.

The brunette groans, covering her face with tattooed hands as Santa Baby starts playing in the bar and I understand the exact reason why. It was probably the tenth time that they were playing the same Christmas playlist, over and over for the last month.

I chuckle at her response, mouthing the words of the song to her.

“Oh God, stop, please,” she complains. But I continue, pretending as if I was the one singing, doing everything to hold my laughter.

“Em, could you go serve the people in table seven please?” The moment is interrupted by our co-worker, clearly frustrated and overwhelmed by the amount of work there was.

I quickly turn to the sink, pretending to be washing dishes. Thankfully, I’m left alone. But the smell of sandalwood lingers in the air, causing my heart to flutter. I can’t help but look around - I’m alone. I guess Em wears the same cologne. It was missing something that made it exclusively Paige though.

“My God…” I mumble to myself, noticing that the new wine glasses were covered in smudgy dots already. Meticulously I wipe them clean one by one, deciding I should do the same to the ones by the bar.

I walk out into the chaos, waiters nearly bumping into each other and bartenders taking orders from the impatient customers. 

“All these wine glasses are stained!” I complain as Em walks by, carrying a tray of drinks. Trying my best to stay out the way, I continue my chore, making sure each glass is polished and shining behind the bar. Or I try to. But there it is again, sandalwood. And the feeling of being watched.

Raising my gaze, I don’t need to look far to find the source. She’s already staring, those familiar blue eyes boring into me. By the door, standing with flushed cheeks and sleeked back hair is undeniably Paige.

It’s the last place I ever expected to see her. Yet it doesn’t take any time for me to process. Like somewhere deep inside I was always waiting for her to appear.

I put the wine glass down. I don’t have time to overthink my reaction, or what might be okay and what might not. Because I’m already crossing the bar to close the distance. I don’t care who was watching. I collide into her arms, embracing her like I had been dying to ever since I left Dallas.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins too loud for any emotions to come through. All I hear is my heart thumping in my ears, and Paige’s trembling breath as she wraps her arms around me and pulls me in. Familiar and comforting. A homesickness I never noticed before melts away, lifting a load off my shoulders. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, only noticing I’m tearing up when I hear my own voice shaking.

“Izzie,” Paige sighs into my hair, running her fingers up and down my back. As if to figure out if it was really me. 

I’m not able to pull back or let go, afraid she might disappear if I do. I don’t know if I’m hallucinating or in a dream, maybe I’ve officially gone crazy. But if this madness means I get to feel her this way, I don’t want to be sane.

We stand there for minutes, hours - I couldn’t tell you. Time stopped mattering. I feel the way her chest expands into me as she fills her lungs with air, her fingers rubbing my back. I finally pry myself off of her. I need to see her face.

She looks just like she did in my dreams. The same Paige that was in Dallas, now at my doorstep. 

”Hey,” she mouths, barely a whisper. Paige’s eyes are soft with a hint of sadness, glossy from the single tear pooling in the corner of her eye.

”Why are you here?” I ask bewildered. We’re still holding hands, her long fingers entangled with mine. They’re cold against my skin.

”I just,” she starts and finally looks away from my gaze. For a fleeting moment I fear something bad has happened, why else would she be here.

”I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas.”

I don’t know what to say, still in shock by her sudden appearance. It feels like it’s been forever since I last heard her voice, but also as if it’s been no time at all.

”Merry Christmas,” I murmur back. ”H-How did you fi-”

”I heard you work here again, just took a chance I guess.”

I’m about to open my mouth again when my manager taps me on the shoulder, telling me to get back to work.

”Shit,” I mumble under my breath, way too full of adrenaline to finish my shift.

”What time you getting off?” Paige asks. I still can't comprehend she’s here.

”20 minutes,” I say, remembering again that I was at work and it certainly was not the time to be catching up with my ex-girlfriend. ”Will you wait?”

”Of course Iz,” she squeezes my hand one more time. Like it pains her to let me go even for a moment.

”I’ll bring you an apple cider, yeah?” I ask, letting go of her. My skin feels as if on fire, I forgot how her touch used to make me feel.

I head back behind the bar, still in shock. I can’t believe she’s here. My mind seems to be moving at a million miles an hour. I can’t tell how I feel. Flashbacks of last summer, the dingy hotel, the corridors of College Park, drive thru ribs and her lips on mine.

My hands shake as I grab a mug, pouring apple cider into it. Em comes up from behind me, glancing over my shoulder at the blonde athlete sitting at a corner table alone.

”Holy shit, is that-”

”Paige Bueckers,” I sigh, biting my lower lip.

-

”Okay, ready to go,” I tell the blonde, sipping the drink and scrolling her phone. She glances up at me from her seat, and smiles. The blue of her eyes is so much more vibrant than I remembered.

”Never seen you in a trench coat before,” she grins.

”Well,” I chuckle, wrapping a scarf around my neck. ”Doesn’t really suit Dallas weather does it?”

”Guess not,” she says awkwardly as we make our way out together. 

The early evening has brought young couples and tourists looking for a good time to Leicester Square, walking around for a bar to slip into. The christmas music coming from the market is fading into a street performer’s rendition of Wonderwall by Oasis - just slightly off-key. The air is cold enough to see my breath linger in the air.

”So,” I start. ”Do you wanna go look around the Christmas market?” I ask.

”Yeah, bet,” she answers. And I can tell she feels as awkward as I do.

In silence we walk to the entrance and slide into the packed crowd circling the stalls. We stop to look at some magnets and keychains and other trinkets for tourists. Paige is glued to my side, scared we’ll get separated in the herd. I can feel my heart thumping in my ears, dying to find something to say. 

But what do you say to someone you’d been missing for months? Someone you abandoned? Someone you have so much history with? I don’t know. I want to ask why she’s here, but I doubt that’s a good place to start.

”When did you land?” I suddenly say. Paige lets out a deep breath, clearly unsure of what to talk about.

”A few hours ago,” she answers. We go quiet again, until she opens her mouth to speak.

”So, erm, how you been?”

“Um,” I start. I didn’t know what would be appropriate to say. Should I explain to her about the week I spent sobbing after flying home? Or about the nights I jumped awake to check if she had texted me purely out of habit? What about her birthday that caused me to lie about being too sick to leave bed because I was utterly far too depressed to move a single muscle? No, she should not know any of that. No reason to dwell on something that’s been put behind us. We ended the moment I dropped that letter through the mailslot. 

“I’ve been okay, trying to find a job,” I mumble, smiling awkwardly. “I mean something other than… yeah.”

“I gotchu,” Paige answers just as uncomfortably. “No luck?”

I shake my head. Both of us investigate a ceramic Big Ben decoration like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. I missed the comfort I felt with her, the laughs and the easy silence - much different from the one between us now like a wall. In silence, I watch Paige’s bright red hands touch a magnet carefully.

“Aren’t you cold?” I ask. “Where are your gloves?”

“Ion have any,” she admits, squeezing her hands into a fist. “It’s fine, they’re not that cold.”

Instinctively without further thought I reach over and wrap my hand into hers. Ice cold and freezing.

“Paige,” I gasp, warming up her hands between mine as the crowd pushes past us. “We need to get you inside.”

“I’m good here,” she mumbles, but I can feel her shaking. Whether from the cold or my touch I’m not sure. “Or you wanna go and maybe grab sumn to eat?”

I feel torn. On the other hand seeing her felt like a weight lifted off my shoulders. My Paige in my city - it felt special. But it also hurt. Every time I imagined her here with me it was… different. We weren’t talking to each other like strangers. I felt confused.

“Why are you here Paige?” I ask again, my voice going quiet. Her eyes soften but they avoid me, opting out to stare at a couple by us picking up Christmas decorations from a stall.

“I got your message, and I just wanted to see you,” she says simply, biting down on her lower lip bashfully. “Is that so bad?”

No. It’s brave. Braver than I ever was. She always had more courage. But the adrenaline of her arrival was beginning to pass, and I could feel it subsiding, letting way for the feelings - the fear.

“No,” I sigh, for the first time daring to look straight into her face. Just like I remembered, like my mind had painted and burned it into my head. “But I promised my parents I would be home for dinner. Would you like to join?”

-

The distance and time had done something unexpected. Under the hush of the things left unsaid, behind both our backs, it had built a wall - tall as the snow-covered pine trees back in Connecticut. Izara feels it as much as I do, because she’s filling the uncomfortable silence instead of letting it settle as she usually would as we take a cab to her parents’ home.

“Wait, did you get to take the tube yet?” She asks me. I’m sitting on my hands, trying to bring back the sensation the freezing breeze had taken.

“The tube?” I chuckle.

“Oh right, the subway,” she mocks in an American accent. She sounds a lot more English now than she ever did in Dallas.

“Ohhh,” I laugh carefully, looking out of the window into the traffic. The cars were much smaller here. “I took one to Covent Garment.”

Izzie lets out a genuine laugh, causing butterflies to release in my gut. I don’t know what she’s finding funny and quite honestly I don’t care. Suddenly every day I spent without hearing her laughter feels like it was for vain.

“You mean Covent Garden, Paige,” she giggles, hiding behind her hand. I rub the back of my neck as we curve to a neighbourhood I can tell is boujee. Pure white townhouses follow one another the entire street’s length, black iron fencing decorating the paths to the stairways, all marble and arched windows. It’s then I realise I was not prepared to meet Izzie’s family at all.

I’m jetlagged and tired, and my outfit definitely was not the ‘meet the parents’ kind I always imagined I would be wearing. No, not at all. Instead I’m wearing black cargos and a grey sweatshirt. And I probably don’t smell fresh either.

“I’m kinda feelin’ like this is a bad idea,” I admit, chewing on my nails. The girl beside turns to me, green eyes filled with empathy. Lord, I swear they look even more vibrant here in London in the midst of all the grey.

“They’re not that bad,” she tells me. But I remember all the stories I had heard of her parents and their unrealistic expectations. So I stare at Izzie, raising my brows.

“Look, I’m sure they’ll be more than happy to meet a friend of mine from America.”

A friend. I can do that. I can be a friend. If that’s what it takes.

“Just be your charming self,” Izara smiles as the cab comes to a halt in front of one of the jet black doors. I climb out after her, cursing at myself for not opening the door for her.

“Hellooo, I’m home and I brought a visitor!” Iz calls out as we enter the narrow entryway. My stomach twists as rapid footsteps run down the steps with heavy thumps, Kiran’s mouth falling open the second he sees me.

“No way!” He yelps and strides over with a dap and a warm hug. I pat him on the back, smiling too. My shoulders immediately drop knowing I would have someone here that was definitely on my side. “Paige Bueckers in London.”

”Why didn’t you tell me?!” Kiran asks his sister who’s grinning from ear to ear. They looked so similar yet everything about Kiran was softer. I only got to see Izzie like that a handful of times, which was a lot more than others got.

”I didn’t know, she just showed up!” Izzie laughs. It’s the first time I realise that she’s truly glad that I was here, even if things between us felt weird.

”What is everyone shouting for?” A woman walks in, looking much like Izara if it wasn’t for the faint lines branched out in the corner of her eyes. It’s as if looking twenty years into the future, and my heart flutters. How badly I want to know Izzie when she looks like that, or when she’s old and grey.

”Mum, this is Paige. From America.”

The woman immediately brushes through her hair and smooths over her sweater - just like Izzie. I shift awkwardly between my legs, under her intense gaze.

”My apologies, I wasn’t prepared for guests,” she chuckles, letting me know she liked surprises just as much as her daughter did. ”This is Paige?”

”Hey Mrs. Chopra, nice to meet you,” I smile and reach out my hand for a firm shake. I thought I’d be more nervous but the last 24 hours had been such a whirlwind I don’t think anything could shake me now. ”I’m sorry to just barge in like this.”

”Nonsense,” she hums, green eyes staring at me in that calculating way Izara’s did - not unkind but just a little wary. ”We’ve heard so many stories about you.”

Oh. My blue eyes flick to Iz, who’s acting as if her cheeks aren’t burning red.

”You were a good friend to Izzy-Roo here,” her mom smiles.

”Mum, stop,” Iz groans lightheartedly but I can tell she’s embarrassed. The corners of my mouth lift at the nickname.

”I like Izzy-Roo,” I repeat, eyeing the shorter girl. She rolls her eyes. Fuck I missed her.

”I will quite literally book you the next flight home,” she threatens me.

”Oh so you want me to go?” I ask. Her face softens, just for a fleeting moment.

Iz shakes her head, green eyes locked in mine. ”No.”

I can tell she means it. And for now that’s enough reassurance for me.

“I trust you’re hungry?” Izara’s mother asks, walking us all into the kitchen. 

The house is beautiful, tall ceilings and archways but still narrow in the way English homes tend to be. The walls are white, but the home is anything but bare or minimalistic. The colourful fabrics, rugs and artwork bring the space alive, lush green plants growing here and there in expensive pots. The hallway leads to an open kitchen with a large marble island, and a big pot bubbling away on the stovetop.

“This house is gorgeous,” I say, doing my best to shy away from words like “sick” or “crazy”. “No wonder Iz didn’t like her place in Dallas.”

“Oh yes I like lots of personality,” Mrs. Chopra smiles, stirring the pot mindlessly. “None of this black and white modern nonsense.”

“Worse. The apartment was grey all over,” Izzie scrunches her nose, patting a seat next to her by the kitchen island. Awkwardly, I shuffle to her. The stool seems to creak as I sit on it, making me cringe.

“See Izara? Things are so much better here at home where you belong,” Her mother lectures, turning to face us both. “No offense Paige.”

“None taken,” I answer, ignoring the deep sigh that spills out of the girl beside me. Guess she had heard many lectures of her move ever since she came home.

Kiran walks to the pot and stirs it, other hand reaching into the covered plate beside the stovetop and pulling out a piece of naan. Or it’s about to, when their mom slaps his hand away. It’s enough to sting, the boy letting out an annoyed hiss.

“Where’s dad?” Kiran asks, rubbing his hand.

“Working late,” their mom answers. “He works very hard,” she’s clearly talking to me now. “Wants our children to be just like him.”

“Well Izzie definitely worked really hard in the States,” I reply, doing anything to keep the conversation going.

“I’m sure, she’s always been a hard worker. But this basketball nonsense never made sense to me.”

“Mum,” Izzie warns. I can tell she’s getting frustrated, ears turning red with embarrassment.

“Oh no not for you Paige, for my daughter here,” she waves around with the wooden spoon in her hand. “I’ve heard from my children that you’re quite good.”

“Quite good is a bit of an understatement,” Kiran chimes in, leaning against the counter. The older woman turns back to us once more, setting down the wooden spoon.

“Kiran used to play, you met Kiran when he visited, didn’t you?” She asks, patting her son on the shoulder with a certain gleam in her eye I can’t read. “I know I raised him and perhaps I’m biased but he’s quite nice and handsome. And very single!” She winks at me.

“Mum!” Kiran and Iz yell in unison, and I bite down on my lip to kill the smirk forming on my lips.

“Oh I’m just saying, you’re not dating anyone are you Paige?”

“Please shut up,” Kiran groans into his hands, earning a smack on the back of his head.

But Iz swallows loudly, eyeing me curiously. She wants to know just like her mother does.

“No, I’m not ma’am,” I chuckle easily. ”Kiran’s a good friend. But I got some friends.”

“You don’t want a handsome boyfriend?” She asks. I’m finally understanding what Izara meant by describing her mom as pushy.

“Mum, please stop,” Iz complains, red in the face.

Kiran is laughing out loud, his head thrown back as he cackles. I cover the lower half of my face, trying to remain polite. “Mum, I don’t think I’m her type,” Kiran chuckles.

“You don’t like British men?” She asks, amused but confused by everyone’s reactions.

”I don’t think she has anything against Brits,” Kiran teases.

“Okay, this conversation is officially over!” Izara yelps, hopping down from her stool and mouthing the word ‘sorry’ to me.

-

Dinner is spent around the table in polite conversation that kept fading into awkward silences only interrupted by the sound of cutlery clinking together. Izara’s mom’s eyes were glued to the way I handled the fork and knife as we ate, giving me a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. I always thought Izzie had joked about how I “ate wrong”. I guess she was right. I fumble with the knife, in the end just deciding to put it down for everyone’s sake.

Still, despite the awkwardness, it felt weirdly normal to be sitting at the same dinner table with her family. Like the past five months never happened. Except it did, evident in the way my hands were itching to touch her, wanting to brush against her knee under the table, entangle with her fingers, stroke her hair. But I knew I couldn’t yet. It would have to be just right, every detail. None of that messy shit from last summer. No, I needed to show her what it could be like. If she just came back with me.

“So, Paige, what are your plans for Christmas?” Mrs. Chopra asks, which makes me realise I hadn’t even thought of that. My first Christmas not spent with family, and it didn’t move me one bit. Because at least I was here.

“Uh, ‘m not sure,” I admit.

”Bro you have to come over,” Kiran gasps excitedly with a mouth full of food earning yet another smack, this time on the arm.

”Of course you’re welcome to stay with us,” Mrs. Chopra echoes. I glance sideways to Izzie, sitting beside me, sipping on a glass of water. I didn’t want to cross any boundaries or force myself into her life - though, I guess you could argue I already had by flying here. 

”I’m sure Izara would love having her friend over.”

The girl smiles but something’s missing, focused on pushing her food around with a fork. Maybe I had misread the signs of her being happy. She had always been hard to read

”Yes, why not,” she murmurs. But I’m not sure she means it. ”Let me clear up the table,” she mumbles almost to herself and begins grabbing everyone’s plates, hers half-eaten.

”I’ll help,” I stand too, grabbing glasses and following her into the kitchen. The warm, gentle hue of the dining room changes into harsh overhead lighting. We’re left alone, the discussion in the dining room turning into a muffle. Wordlessly Iz begins to scrub plates under running water, piling them into the dishwasher one by one. I hand her a glass, but she takes it without making eye contact - afraid it might just be the thing to tip something over.

”Did you see the Love Island finale?” I ask after a while, leaning my back against the counter. She laughs awkwardly, shaking her head, a sad look on her face just for a second.

”No,” she murmurs, biting down on her lower lip. I feel stupid.

”Oh,” I answer, chewing the inside of my cheek. I’m not sure if she wants me around at all. ”Iz, I don’t gotta come over for Christmas.”

She sighs, her shoulders softening. ”No Paige, it’s not that,” she breathes out, putting the plate from her hands into the sink. She turns to me, green eyes flickering with something I could only describe as confusion. 

”I’m glad you’re here. I just need to talk to you about something.”

I furrow my brows taking a step closer to her. She avoids my gaze, but her chest heaves higher as I approach. I squeeze my hand into a fist to fight the urge to touch her. Fuck, I can’t help it.

My fingertips brush against her forearm only for a fleeting second. My free hand grips onto the kitchen counter beside me, knees weakening as I feel the warmth of her skin even softer than I remembered. Izzie’s breath hitches, green eyes flickering up at me. For a second I think she glances at my lips.

”Talk to me Iz,” I murmur, my voice hoarse and deep. She takes a deep breath, shoulders rising as she opens her pretty lips to speak.

Ding-dong

The sound of the doorbell cuts through the air. The moment’s gone, I can tell.

”It must be my dad,” she sighs, taking a step backwards. ”Why didn’t he have his keys?”

I follow behind her into the entryway. But it’s not Izara’s dad. No, not at all. In the doorway stands a man, light brown curls neatly coiling at the top of his head. He’s holding a bouquet of bright red roses, a wide smile on his face and grey eyes beaming. I know immediately who it is.

Blood rushes into my ears. I feel furious, my chest tightening as my body catches up with my brain. For some reason it felt like a personal betrayal. I fought for her so hard, and this asshole hurt her in a way that changed her forever - and still gets her? I feel sick.

”Jasper, what the hell are you doing here?” Izzie asks with an angry whisper, stepping closer. His smile falls, gaze flickering from the girl to me.

”I thought I’d pop in for dinner,” he mumbles, clearly as confused as I felt. ”Who’s this?” He points at me.

Iz looks at me over her shoulder, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

”It’s uh,” she starts, trying to pick her words carefully. ”It’s Paige, my friend from the States.”

Friend. I had heard that word one too many times today. I needed to get back to my hotel, sleep and think this whole thing over. This was a horrible idea.

”Yeah, nice to meet you,” I force a smile, turning to Mrs. Chopra. ”Thank you for having me! Dinner was really good, your home is beautiful.”

She meets my smile.

”I better head out, jetlag y’know,” I murmur, putting my shoes back on and pushing past both Izara and Jasper without even looking at the girl.

The air is crisp and the street quiet, the lamps illuminating the darkness. I’m not sure which way to go so I simply turn left. I’d call a cab later, I needed to walk.

But the sounds of urgent footsteps approach from behind me, closer and closer. They’re familiar and known.

”Paige,” she pants out, out of breath from running after me. I stop but don’t turn, unsure whether or not I should.

But I’m left with no choice, because Izzie grabs my shoulders and spins me around. Her eyes are wide and regretful, looking up at me pleadingly. I can’t help the way my heart softens at the sight of her.

”You gotta be jokin’ Iz,” I groan, pointing at the wide open front door 20 feet away.

”I wanted to tell you okay, I did. I just didn’t know how,” she sighs. It’s the most emotion I’ve heard in her voice all day.

”The guy who-”

”I know okay!” She yelps, frustrated and embarrassed. ”I know, but I want to tell you everything. Please.”

I exhale, looking around at the bare cherry trees. ”I dunno Iz, maybe this was a bad idea.”

”No,” she sounds panicked, suddenly gripping onto my hand. ”Don’t go.” My heart flutters, causing me to clear my throat. Her glossed lips glisten in the night. I wonder if she still tastes like strawberries.

”Fuck,” I mumble to myself, covering my face with my hand just for a moment. 

”Just come tomorrow, please,” she begs. ”Come spend Christmas with me… Us I mean.”

My fingers stay entangled with hers. It’s almost enough to just feel her like this. Almost.

I should let go but I can’t. She always had me wrapped around her finger.

-

Christmas Eve morning has left the grass in London covered in a thin frost, teasing the possibility of a white Christmas. The streets are surprisingly busy, filled with cars driving around for last minute bits and bobs before they retreat into their homes for a well deserved rest. Final dusting and hoovering can be seen through the windows left ajar to air out the houses lining the streets of the city. 

Kiran turns down the Michael Bublé song playing in the car as we stop for a red light. He glances at me expectantly.

”If you don’t call her I will,” he simply says.

”I haven’t heard from her since last night! I think if she wants to come she’ll let me know,” I groan, looking out the window instead to avoid him.

”Funny that, I wouldn’t call either if I saw Jasper show up.”

”Haha, really witty,” I say dryly. But he has a point. Not wanting to admit defeat, I discreetly text Paige.

Hey, we’re out looking for a tree. Would you like to come?

The read receipt shows up the moment I send it.

Yeah lemme send my location

I sigh. ”Turn left here, let’s go pick her up.”

”Yesss,” Kiran celebrates under her breath. ”You need to figure things out with her.”

”You just want lifelong access to the league,” I roll my eyes, slight butterflies growing in my stomach as we approach her hotel. 

”Shut it, I’m serious,” he groans. ”I like her. She’s good to you. Better than he-who-must-not-be-named.”

”Voldemort?” I snort out, fixing my makeup quickly in the side mirror, adding lipgloss.

”Might as well be,” my brother murmurs. ”Doesn’t he have a family of his own to bother on Christmas.”

”He’ll only come over for dinner later,” I remind him.

”You have to get along.”

”I don't get it,” Kiran sighs, shaking his head. ”If you love him so much why even invite Paige over?”

I had no answer or explanation. Everything was making me confused. I love Jasper, I really do. But sometimes he didn’t understand me or what I needed at all. Not the same way Paige did. And now that she was here that uncomfortable constant ache at my chest had fully disappeared.

”It’s this one,” I point to the building on the right, ignoring his question. Kiran doesn’t pry, pulling up to the entrance. Soon Paige walks out, in loose pale khakis and a lavender sweater, Nike vest over the fit. Immediately, I smooth over my hair. It was easier not seeing her everyday, because at least I could forget how gorgeous she was. The sight of her makes me let out a breath I never realised I was holding, my chest shifting.

-

We walk among the Christmas trees, Kiran and Paige dragging behind to discuss the last WNBA season. I’m too focused to listen though, scoping for the perfect specimen.

”How about this one?” My brother asks, grabbing one to our right. I eye up and down, furrowing my brows in concentration. 

”Spin it,” I command. It had to be perfectly lush and even everywhere - no gaps or asymmetry. Only the best.

”Bro there’s a gap,” Paige points out to Kiran. Her and I were under a silent contract to act as if nothing happened yesterday, or never. We’re friends now. That’s how we’ll be.

”Paige, you keep doing that and we’re not leaving till New Years,” he groans.

”Like I wouldn’t have seen the gap myself,” I scoff, walking straight ahead for the next contender. The two follow after me with hurried steps as I lead the pack.

And then I see it, the perfect one. My winter boots tap against the concrete as I scurry to it, grabbing the tree with my leather gloves to see it better. 

”I think this is it,” I say to Paige, who’s looking over my shoulder. She takes a step closer, her front nearly pressing into my back. Taunting.

”Oh that’s fire, it’s a Norway Spruce right?” she asks, the heat of her breath warming up my cheek. I had told her about my favourite type of tree. It must have been 6 months ago. ”These ones are more green too.”

”Yeah, like a deeper green,” I repeat too, my voice a little shaky from the pounding of my heart. I can’t believe she remembered. Paige hums, smiling softly.

”Kinda like your eyes,” she says gently. I lift my gaze to her, realising her hand was around my waist. Something about it felt so normal I barely noticed.

A deep blush sets into my cheeks, taking a step away and looking over my shoulder for my brother.

”Kiran!” I shout carefully, seeing the boy jog over, distracted by a tree way uglier than the one I picked out. I guess I inherited all the taste in this family.

”Carry it,” I tell him, following closely as Kiran and Paige drag the tree all the way to the Porsche, the boy complaining and grunting the entire way until Paige had enough and carried it on her own even once we got home.

”Oh bless you!” My mum gushes, watching as Paige drags it all the way to the living room in the back. Her cheeks have turned red from the weight, but she still manages to flash a charming smile to my mum, listening to her instruction on where to set the tree diligently.

“Oh what’s all the fuss,” my father suddenly emerges from his study, stern eyes landing on Paige. His hair is as black as mine, slowly beginning to grey.

“This must be the Paige Bueckers,” He says, voice strong and confident like it always was.

Paige clears her throat, looking just a little nervous - not that anyone noticed, only me. I can tell from the way she’s biting her cheek.

“It’s nice to meet you sir,” she smiles with confidence, shaking his hand. Something about the way she’s holding herself, sure and tall, caused butterflies to erupt all around my abdomen. Even Jasper was afraid of my father. But not Paige.

“You’re quite the player,” my dad grins, pulling his hand back. “Kiran showed me some of your games. Very impressive.”

Paige gleams but shrugs it off with humble ease. “That’s my team, they make me good.” 

“Oh I’m sure there’s some talent and a lot of work involved on your part,” my dad chuckles. Me and Kiran exchange looks. Very rarely was he this warm towards strangers, Jasper was lucky if he even got a dry smile out of him. “It’s okay to give yourself some credit.”

Paige smiles, not afraid to look him right in the eye. “Well I like to think I got a gift from God.”

My father nods, meditating over the words. “Gift from God. I like that.” 

“Do you watch basketball a lot sir?” Paige asks, conversation flowing between them easily.

“Oh dear, no,” he laughs in response. “Unfortunately I’m more of a golf man.”

“You play?” The blonde asks, raising her brows.

“Absolutely, I’ve tried taking these two to the course but apparently it’s too dull for this generation.”

Paige grins proudly. “I play.”

My father raises his brows too, surprised. “You do?”

“Yes sir,” she nods. And I know she’s got him on her side.

“Anyone who plays golf can call me Rohan,” he smiles, leading us to the kitchen. Not even Jasper calls him that. “I think it’s time for a drink.”

“Dad it’s one in the afternoon,” Kiran laughs as my father pulls out a bottle of white wine that’s been chilling in the fridge.

“Certainly, and this is the only way we’ll get through your mother’s fussing today,” he murmurs, pouring us all a glass. I glance up at the blonde who’s standing beside me, shoulder pressing into mine. I know only too well that she doesn’t like wine.

“You don’t need to drink it,” I murmur quietly but Paige shakes her head with a sly smirk. 

“Ion mind. Been practicin’” she grins and to my surprise, takes an easy sip of the wine without shivering or scrunching her face. Impressed, I do the same.

“I made a list of everything that needs to be done before dinner,” my mother barges in, doing a double-take when she sees us already drinking in the early afternoon. She places the long list down onto the counter, causing Paige to glance at me and snicker.

“What?” I whisper, feeling her wrap her arm around my shoulders as she whispers into my ear.

“You’re just like her, huh?” She laughs quietly. But the way her breath tingles against my ear has me too flustered to focus on the words. My eyes roam her face just a moment too long, stuck in a memory of watching her this close in the past.

“Uhm, I guess we should get to it,” I murmur, cheeks burning as I take another sip of the wine and open the fridge to start preparing food for the evening - and to get further away from her.

-

It is the fourth time I’ve taken the lights off and put them back onto the tree, just to appease Izara and her mother, who I had found to be just as detail-oriented as her daughter. Each time something was wrong, a gap here, too many bulbs clustered there. It’s okay, I don’t mind. I would do it a hundred times over just for her.

“Oh let the poor girl out of her misery,” Rohan chuckles, carrying down a box of decorations for the tree - boujee glass ornaments, each packed separately. I back away from the tree, looking at it from afar. A slight gap on the right. Before anyone can say anything, I reach over and fix it. Not that I cared, but I knew how important it was for Izzie.

“Oh that’s perfect,” Iz murmurs, absentmindedly rubbing up and down my back as a thank you. In the midst of the holiday anticipation and fuss it was easy to fall back into old habits, so instinctual we couldn’t stop them. Last night’s blow-up had shattered the wall between me and Izzie, leaving only the comfort of who we used to be.

One by one, we put up the ornaments evenly around the tree, golden tinsel wrapped around it. 

“My bad,” I murmur, cheeks flushed red when we reach for the same one. I hand it to Izzie who offers me a gentle smile, but she can’t quite reach the empty branch. I help her, placing it down carefully. Her fingertips are cold against mine and it kills me not to wrap her into me to keep her warm.

“Not there,” she murmurs, shaking her head at Kiran who was placing the ornaments in the wrong spots in Izara’s opinion. I watch closely, smiling to myself as she rolls her eyes as if she minded having to do it on her own. I knew better, she liked it her way. The jetlag and exhaustion from travelling felt like a distant memory now, subsided by her. 

A soft chuckle escapes my mouth when a piece of golden tinsel hangs from her dark hair, catching the light from the tree.

“What?” She asks, not amused. Decorating the tree is a serious business for her. 

“You got tinsel,” I murmur, reaching over and brushing my hand into her locks. They’re as smooth and silky as I remembered, straightened for the day. The piece falls off but I linger, our eyes meeting. Her plump lips part in a shaky exhale, long lashes fluttering fast. She feels it just as I do.

“Thanks,” she answers with a trembling voice, pulling back when their mother walks in.

“Add these too,” she smiles mischievously, handing Iz two more ornaments - angels with a picture of a baby Kiran and baby Izara.

“Absolutely not,” Iz complains, but I’m fast, grabbing the one with her picture in my hands. There she is, not older than five-years-old, smiling wide at the camera. Her cheeks are round and eyes not as sharp as they are now, but it’s undoubtedly Izara. Long lashes dark and brows defined even as a baby.

“Look at you,” I gush, chuckling to myself. “Oh my Gosh,” I murmur, smiling from ear to ear. She has to be the most beautiful child I’ve ever seen.

“Give it back,” she complains, trying to grab it. I lift it out of her reach, tilting my head back to look at it closer.

“Love the fit,” I tease, not letting her get a hold of it. She jumps for the ornament, but I smirk down at her arrogantly keeping it just out of her reach - causing Rohan, who’s sitting in the corner and reading, to laugh at us. “This gotta go somewhere everyone can see.”

“I hate you, stop,” she giggles loudly, giving up jumping and watching as I hang it front and centre, just out of her reach.

“Nah, Ion think you do,” I grin, glancing at the picture once more causing my heart to flutter.

Kiran proudly hangs his right beside it, smiling to himself. “That’s a handsome fella,” he beams.

“Guys, we’re on a schedule!” Izzie reminds us, kneeling down to look for the tree topper. I can’t help it when, just for a second, my eyes drift to the curve of her ass. Even in the knitted pants it’s enough to make me swallow hard. I force my gaze to the ceiling, fighting the urge to keep looking.

Iz pulls out a twinkling, golden star, looking up to the top of the tree - way out of everyone’s reach. 

“I’ll get a ladder,” Kiran murmurs.

“You know what I used to do when you were small,” Rohan interrupts, standing up from his chair with a grunt. “I used to put one of you on my shoulders and do it that way.”

Kiran eyes his sister up and down and then shakes his head.

“She’s way too heavy,” he groans, immediately taking a step back. Izara’s eyes widen and she throws an extra bit of tinsel at her brother.

“I’m not heavy!” She gasps, offended.

“She really isn’t,” I add, not thinking it through. Kiran’s lips turn into a grin at my revelation, Mr. Chopra watching us with an amused expression. I felt the need to impress him.

“Get on,” I say, patting my shoulders.

“No, I’m getting the ladder,” Izzie complains.

“Oh c’mon Iz, just do it,” I plead, fluttering my lashes at her. It seems to work, because she climbs onto the couch and waves me over. With a struggle, she throws her legs over my shoulders and I lift her easily.

“See Kiran?” I smirk. “Just gotta lift a little more lil bro.”

Offended, Kiran’s jaw falls open and he glances at his dad, like he should argue. But Rohan merely shrugs.

“She has a point,” he teases. But Izara is not as amused as everyone else, her eyes squeezed shut and legs shaking as she holds onto my hair. I don’t mind though, the way she pulls and yanks on it sending shivers down my spine.

“Stop talking and hurry,” she squeals, “I’m gonna fall!”

“No you won’t,” I assure her, tilting my head back to look her in the eye. “I gotchu okay?”

She nods slowly, easing her grip on my head. “Okay,” she sighs, as I walk to the tree, my hands gripping her thighs tightly. Carefully, she sets the star down, making sure it’s straight and perfect before pulling her hands back.

“How does it look?” 

But I’m not looking at the tree, my eyes are glued to the reflection of her in the mirror, the way her long hair flows down her back, her long legs dangling on my shoulders.

“Perfect,” I murmur, carefully letting the girl down.

“I remember one year the star was crooked and this one had a meltdown over it,” Mr. Chopra rubs his daughter’s shoulder affectionately. “She must’ve been 4 years-old.”

I laugh, nudging Izzie gently. “Yea right, she still would.”

“Quit,” Iz warns both me and her dad. He raises his brows at me, backing away.

“That usually means it’s best to sit down and shut up,” he jokes.

“Yeah, I noticed,” I agree, glancing at the tree. It looks straight out of a catalogue, tall and twinkling. The warm lights emanate from it, painting the white walls of thr living room, red and gold ornaments decorating the green branches.

My eyes flicker from the tree to Izara. To my surprise she’s not admiring it, no, her eyes are watching me closely, her expression softening. Yet, when our gazes meet, she looks away.

“I should go get ready,” she murmurs, and leaves me downstairs with her family.

-

“Jasper, welcome, happy Christmas,” Rohan says dryly as he lets the man in. Jasper, dressed in a maroon sweater, is heaving large Harrods bags filled with presents indoors.

“Merry Christmas sir,” he says with a smile, greeting Kiran with a polite nod. Just the smirk on his face was enough to get me fuming, but I take a deep cleansing breath instead. I know if I want to be here I’ll have to make good.

“Ah, you must be Paige,” he goes in for a handshake. I do the same, making sure my grip is firm enough to hurt a little.

“Sorry for running out yesterday,” I simply say. “Jetlag.”

“All good! I’m excited to hear about Zari’s time in America a bit more,” he says. I can tell he’s charming, easy-going and polite. No wonder he had everyone fooled. But not me. “She doesn’t talk about it much.”

That stings. Like our time didn’t matter enough to talk about - or maybe it mattered too much.

“Speaking of Zari, where is she?” Jasper asks.

“Upstairs getting ready,” I answer. “I’ll go get her.”

I climb to the second floor of the three storey house, carefully peeking into rooms behind white doors to look for her. At the end of the hallway, behind double doors, I finally find her, knocking on the panel left ajar.

She’s sitting by a vanity, putting on mascara, a plain black dress laid out on her double bed. Everything is neatly organised, a large schedule hanging off the wall with her handwriting all over it. It’s definitely her room, a blown glass lily decorating her bedside table.

Iz lifts her gaze from the mirror to me, smiling softly. From downstairs I can hear Mrs. Chopra squealing with joy at Jasper, fussing over presents and how handsome he looked. I close the door behind me, shutting it all out.

“Jasper’s here, just wanted to let you know,” I tell her. The curve of her lips turns into a straight line. “He was asking ‘bout you.”

She stays quiet for a while, turning back to the mirror and swiping a deep maroon blush to her cheeks. She’s paler than I’m used to.

“My dad likes you,” Izara murmurs, eyes locked on her reflection.

Deep inside I feel a little victorious. “He’s cool,” I smile, sitting awkwardly at the end of her perfectly made bed.

“So, this your room?” I ask, looking around. It’s surprisingly plain for a childhood bedroom.

“Yup, always been,” she presses her lips together, making sure the gloss is spread evenly before getting up from the stool. Iz walks over and smooths the dress, glancing at me. “I like your sweater.”

She runs her manicured hand over the collar, fixing it like she used to. I hold my breath, fearing if she sees me breathe too heavily she’ll pull back.

“Thanks,” I murmur. “I like the dress,” I add. Izzie presses her lips together, like she always did when she was thinking.

“I’m sorry my mum put you to work today,” she says, her deep, silky voice softening. 

“Oh Ion mind,” I answer. Her hand is still on the sleeve of my sweater. We both glance at it, my eyes nearly fluttering shut at her gentle touch. But Jasper’s laughter roars through the walls, all the way up the stairs into her room. I clear my throat, sitting up from the bed.

“I’ma let you get dressed,” I mumble. But Izara stops me, grabbing my wrist.

“Wait,” she says. “Can you zip me up?”

Gulping, I nod, turning my back to her as she undresses. From the corner of my eye I see the knitted pants and matching sweater being placed on the bed, mind going dry at the thought of her behind me in matching lingerie, just one layer too much between my mouth and her. How easy it would be just to pull them to the side. I wonder if the set is white or black today, satin or cotton.

“Paige?” She interrupts my filthy thoughts. I turn to find her wearing the dress, turning her back to me. A deep purple lace bra peeks out as she moves her long hair to the side. I remember that very set, it was one of my favourites. It felt almost cruel that she was wearing it now and letting me know.

“Y-yeah,” I clear my throat, voice shaking more than I’d like. I approach her, fingertips brushing through the strands of dark hair and pushing them to the side. I try to ignore the way her breath hitches when my fingers find her zipper, brushing against the soft skin of her back. But it’s nearly impossible to ignore the way I wanted to touch her much more than this. 

The room feels tense and heavy, my lips parted and head spinning as I pull the zipper up slowly. But no matter how long I try to linger, the moment is over too fast, the purple lace disappearing far too soon. Izara spins around, smoothing over the fabric. The dress fits her perfectly, hugging the curves of her body just enough to leave me wanting more.

“You look beautiful,” I murmur, eyeing her up and down. She blushes, her chest heaving like mine is. “You should wear the Louboutins with that.”

“Yeah,” she nods breathlessly, grabbing them from a shelf of high heels she had on display. Gently, I take them from her hand, nodding towards the bed.

“Sit down, lemme help,” I tell her, and she seems too lightheaded to disagree, mindlessly walking to the bed. I suppose the distance had made her obedient. I kneel in front of the girl, my big hands grabbing the arch of her manicured foot. My mind is filled with memories of kissing there, or pressing my lips onto her ankle. It pains me not to do that now.

I slide her foot into the shoe, my fingertips lingering on the silky skin of her leg. She shivers, letting out an airy breath. My blue eyes travel upwards from her feet, noticing the way her legs are slightly parted as I kneel on the floor between them. I glance at her thighs knowing it would just take the gentle push of my fingers to move the dress upwards and reveal her core, the purple lace sitting there. I wonder if she’s wet, like I am right now. I’m sure she would be, if I just sucked the tender skin of her inner thigh.

No, she’s already wet. I can tell when my eyes travel from her thighs to her face. Izara’s cheeks are flushed, and eyes heavy and filled with lust. She can’t hide how she’s gulping for air, gripping onto the duvet under her for dear life. Oh God how bad I need her, how I’ve been starved for her for way too long.

My hand still wrapped around her ankle, drags upwards to her calf, and then her knee. Watchful, I read her reactions. She stays still, green eyes locked with mine. But she shifts slightly, parting her legs further. The black dress hikes upwards on her thick thighs, teasing the possibility of seeing her panties if she just spread them wider a tiny bit more. It’s no accident, she knows what she’s doing. It’s not smart, but in the haze of the moment I don’t care. Wetting my lips I lean over and let my mouth press against the inside of her knee.

Izara shivers again, letting out a sigh that could only be described as starving. My hand travels upwards to the hem of her dress. I look up at her pleadingly, for any kind of sign that it’s okay. Slowly, she nods, brows furrowed as she stares down at me. Finally.

I push the dress upwards on her thighs, my gaze dragging down from her face to her torso to finally the purple underwear between her legs. My core throbs when I notice that she is indeed wet - so bad it had spread to her thighs that were glistening and sticky. 

Muffled sounds of footsteps approach through the double doors, making me jump back and get up to my feet. Flustered, Izzie pulls her dress down and slides her foot into the other shoe, standing up tall. Though there’s a trembling to her legs only I could notice as Jasper barges in, all smiles. I want to kill him. The room is thick with silence and the kind of need I swore I’d buried. My hands ache to touch her, to take it further. To do ungodly things and worry about forgiveness for our sin later.

“Hey sweetheart,” he beams, scooping Izara into his arms and kissing her. She kisses back, but her eyes are open wide. I feel sick. “You look stunning.”

“I’ma go see if your mom needs help downstairs,” I murmur, hurrying out of the room and finally feeling like I can breathe again.

-

Paige and I are standing in the kitchen, peeling pomegranates like nothing happened upstairs. It almost felt as if it didn’t - like it was all a dream that I’d had over and over again. I kept stealing glances at her hands, digging into the fruit gently, and cleaning out the seeds, careful not to break them. Somewhere along the past months I had forgotten how it felt to want someone this badly - the ache inside me, the watering eyes, the wetness pooling between my thighs. It had become a type of fantasy of the past that didn’t exist at all in London. Except now it did. Because she was here.

“And I told her, they need to be red roses. Not pink, not yellow, red. Because those are her favourite, right?” Jasper tells a story animatedly to my mother, who’s looking at him with wide, admiring eyes. He’s wrong, they’re not my favourite.

”I mean not to be dramatic but I practically had to fight the florist in Chelsea. Paid double the price.”

He was supposed to be helping too, but instead he’s leaning against the counter and snacking on the fruit we’ve spent the last 20 minutes preparing, talking my mother’s ear off about all the effort he went through ordering assistants around in Harrods to find me the perfect presents, and about his recent promotion.

“Careful,” Paige murmurs beside me, handing me a paper towel before I even realise the juice of the seeds was dripping down my wrist. I pat it dry, smiling at her thankfully.

“I was even thinking of buying Zari a new car,” Jasper gleams, making my mother practically swoon.

“Oh, you’re too good for her. I always say,” she smiles, glancing at me. “Did you hear that Izzy-Roo, a car!”

“I don’t need a car,” I sigh, maybe sounding like a spoiled brat but it was true. I didn’t like driving. “Jasper knows this.”

“Well I can’t drive you around forever sweetheart, I have a job,” he says lightheartedly. My eyes flicker to Paige who drove me around for months, never complaining, going out of her way to make sure I didn’t feel like a burden. If Jasper was just a bit more like her.

“Oh look at the time! I’ll set the table,” my mother gasps, grabbing the fancy plates that were already piled onto the counter.

“I can do it,” Paige smiles, just finishing cleaning up the last pomegranate seeds. She carefully grabs the plates from my mum and begins taking them to the dining room. I stare at Jasper, who keeps running his mouth like an idiot. Every second I was growing more irritated.

“Go help her,” I complain when he notices my glare.

“My goodness, okay okay,” he laughs, carrying a single wine glass into the dining room. Something in me was sure he’d be taking the credit for doing it himself later. And my mom will eat it up.

As night falls on Christmas Eve, we gather around the table to eat. But I was in no Christmassy mood. Something about Jasper’s arrival had shifted the mood for me. It was beginning to hit me all at once - I had gone back to him and I’m not even quite sure why. I wasn’t happy, not really. I was pretending so well that I hadn’t even realised until Paige had arrived. Seeing her, feeling her, touching her - it reminded me of how happy I could actually be, if I just wanted to.

Paige had been an angel, making easy conversation with my father, helping my mum without needing to be asked. It’s like she knew exactly what the room needed, and what I needed before having to say a word. Jasper can come in with all these gifts and gestures and make me feel adored - but Paige, she made me feel known.

“You’re going to eat all that darling?” Jasper asks as I add more gravy onto my plate. I lose my appetite, putting the dish down. Paige glares at the man sitting beside me, like my dad does. He had never warmed up to Jasper.

“Personally, Ion think she has enough,” Paige shrugs, and reaches over to pour more gravy onto my mashed potatoes before doing the same to her plate. My heart flutters as I stare into her, sitting opposite of me, handing the dish to Kiran. Jasper shoots a cold look at the girl, but she merely grins, beginning to eat her dinner.

I gulp the rest of my red wine, ignoring the glares I’m getting from some people around the table. It wasn’t right for the perfect, sensible Izara to be the first to finish her glass. But I wasn’t that person anymore, not since last summer.

Wordlessly, Paige is already pouring me more wine. I’m reminded of the dinner party in Dallas, of all our friends, of the speech, of the way she cared for me like she did now. She always found a way to take care of me - even when I was too stubborn to accept it.

“I think Izzie should give a Christmas speech,” Kiran jokes, knowing how much I despised speeches - especially impromptu ones.

“I’ll throw the ham at you,” I threaten my brother. Paige and my dad chuckle.

“Oh I’m sure Paige would just save you again,” he grins, taking a bite of the food. “The dinner party speech was great.”

”What speech?” Jasper interrupts. We ignore him.

“Nah, not my best job,” the blonde smiles. “Remember the one that-”

“The first night out in Dallas,” I finish her sentence, the corners of my mouth lifting. “That was pretty good.”

“Pretty good? I didn’t even know you,” she gasps.

“Yes, but it was all just a ploy wasn’t it. To get to know me,” I giggle, pointing a fork at her. 

“It worked, did it not?” She teases, a flirty tone to her voice. It feels like an inside joke between just us two, everyone around the table following from the sidelines.

“I suppose,” I laugh. “I remember you forgot my name too.”

“You forgot her name?” My father laughs.

“Yo, I did not forget. I couldn’t hear you,” she says defensively. “I was scared of you.”

Everyone other than Jasper and my mother burst into laughter, my jaw slack as I stare at the blonde, offended.

“Oh, scared huh?” I ask, fighting to hide my giggles. 

“You don’t believe me?” She teases, that smug grin on her face again.

“I wouldn’t call it scared,” I smirk before realising what I said. Thankfully, before anyone registers it, Jasper interrupts the conversation. Like he always did when he felt left out.

“Scary? I thought she was the cutest little thing when I met her in uni-”

But neither me or Paige hear a thing, her eyes scanning me as mine are her. Thinking about the past had us both flustered and regretful. What I would do to go back to those times. To that night I met her. Not to change anything, but to relive it and all those moments after. 

The wine making me bolder, I reach my ankle toward her underneath the table, and rub it against her calf. She exhales and shifts on her seat, and her leg presses back, Jasper’s words a distant echo as we stare into each other knowing something no one else did. 

”You were always reading your books in the library, remember Zari? Didn’t know how to have fun.” Jasper jokes.

”Well,” I murmur. ”People change.”

-

”Are you sure you can’t stay longer?” My mum dotes over Jasper, hugging him goodbye tightly. 

”I wish I could,” he sighs with a smile. He was leaving to spend the rest of Christmas with his family and as much as I didn’t want to admit it I felt relieved. Something about having him and Paige around at the same time felt confusing - like a mixture of who I used to be and who I had become.

Jasper turns to me and before it registers he wraps his hands around my waist and kisses me. I’m caught off guard, kissing back but my eyes remain open. Something about it feels off.

Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe Jasper felt threatened for some reason, but he drags his hand to my butt and squeezes.

”Jasper,” I gasp, pulling back embarrassed. Immediately my eyes lift to Paige, who’s covering the lower half of her face and staring at the ground. Guilt washes over me, for what? I’m not sure.

”Pardon me,” Jasper grins, waving bye to my horrified dad. ”Happy Christmas.”

I close the door behind him, looking out the window at his narrowing back as he walks to his car. It doesn’t feel like anything to watch him go. I’m left only with my mother, who rubs my back affectionately.

”What a sweet man,” she whispers. ”I know you don’t like me being too pushy but I can’t wait to see you marry him.”

”Yeah,” I laugh dryly, but I’ve never wanted it less than now. The dreams I had of babies and marriage and a family crashing into the ground right in front of my eyes. 

Maybe I would be happy if I had never met Paige - I would’ve never known how much I could crave another person’s touch, how badly I could miss them, how happy I could be.

I walk into the living room, finding Kiran, Paige and my dad sitting on the couch, drinking beer and eating mince pies, talking animatedly. My heart flutters as I lean on the wall, watching them from the archway.

“Iz, can you believe she’s never had a mince pie!” Kiran gasps when he notices me. I walk in, sitting on the stool of the grand piano. 

“You like it?” I ask Paige, who’s grinning from ear to ear and nodding, mouth full of food. She reaches over offering me her beer like she had a million times before. I take a sip and hand it back, scrunching my face and shaking my head.

“So gross,” I murmur, earning chuckles from my dad.

“Now tell me Paige,” he says, turning to the girl sitting next to her. “Do you think you’ll have time to go hit a few balls before you leave?”

Me and Kiran glance at each other, eyes wide. I had never seen my dad like this with someone.

“Only if this one comes too,” she nods towards me. “I tried to get her to come golfing with me in Dallas but she’s too stubborn."

“Because golfing sucks,” I huff.

“You’ve gone golfing once,” my dad points out. “For my 50th birthday a couple years ago.”

“Damn, I’m jealous,” Paige laughs.

“Well maybe when you’re 50,” I tease, kicking off my heels and rubbing my feet that ache. The image of us, at 50, golfing and in love, flashes in my mind. 

Her winning me over by promising dinner after, me pretending I still hated the course, her hand on my lower back dragging down to squeeze my butt visibly enough to make our children grimance and complain. But it doesn’t scare me, or cause my chest to ache and tighten - like when I thought about Jasper.

“Promise?” She asks.

“I swear,” I answer.

My dad clears his throat, getting up from his seat. 

“You’re staying over right? Shouldn’t spend Christmas day alone,” he says, squeezing Paige’s shoulder approvingly.

“You should stay,” I say too, not wanting to see her go.

She nods, a bright smile spreading across her face. My  shoulders soften, relief setting in.

-

“I feel like I didn’t say thank you enough,” I murmur, placing a second duvet onto Izara’s bed. She’s doing her skincare by her vanity. God I missed her bare face, her meticulous nighttime routine. Her entire room smells just like her, lavender and pear. 

“Yes you did Paige,” she scoffs, brushing through the ends of her black hair. All the lights are off except the lamps decorating the bedside tables on each side. 

“I dunno,” I complain anxiously, sitting on the side closest to the door. I didn’t have to ask, I knew the right side would be hers.

Izzie gets up, the shorts of her pajamas hiked up over her ass as she does. I try not to stare, or to think about the moment from earlier when it was just us two in her room.

It was hard to see her with Jasper. But somehow it was even worse to see how he diminished her light, making her into a shell of who she was in Dallas. Part of me wishes I’d seen her laughing and sparkling and happy. Then I could leave her be, knowing this is where she belonged. But she isn’t happy.

”I think everyone liked having you around,” she tells me, climbing into her bed and pulling the covers over her. I do the same.

”Oh Jasper too?” I joke, resting my head on the pillow. Izzie laughs, rubbing her eyes. I missed seeing her like this, tired and her guard down. 

”Don’t make fun,” she giggles, turning to her back. The space between us on the large bed felt nearly painful, my skin tingling underneath the covers. The girl turns to turn the lamp beside her. I do too.

We lie in the dark, both of us staring at the ceiling of her room. The silence makes the house feel desolate, a sudden contrast from all the noise earlier. I don’t turn to see if Izara’s sleeping, I don’t have to. I can hear from the pattern of her breath that she’s wide awake.

”You happy with him?” I ask, merely a whisper.

”Paige…” Iz sighs into the darkness. But I wait for an answer. I don’t get one.

”I didn’t think it’d feel like this. Seeing you again,” she murmurs. 

”Like what?” I ask carefully, afraid I’ll scare her back into her shell.

”Like… Everything I thought I figured out is crashing down.”

I turn to my side, facing her. Izara’s plump lips are parted, the shadow of her side-profile blurry in the darkness as my eyes adjust. Her eyes flicker to me.

”I don’t know what to do with it,” she admits.

I inch my leg closer, my toes brushing against her calf. She shivers again.

”You happy with him?” I repeat the question again, but we both know the answer. Iz turns to her side too, butterflies growing in my stomach. I try to steady my breathing, but it’s impossible. My heart keeps galloping in my chest.

”Paige,” she whispers but I stop her. Encouraged by the drinks, I bring my fingertips to her arm under the blanket. Her skin rises in goosebumps against my touch.

”Does he make you happy?” I ask, dragging my fingers up her shoulders and neck. Her eyes flutter shut as she shifts, squeezing her thighs together.

”Does he make you feel this good?” I whisper, inching closer and running my hand through her soft hair. She sighs softly, shaking her head. I bite down on my lip, chest heaving as I resist indulging in what I want.

”No,” Iz whispers. I swallow, encouraged by this.

”He don’t know you like I know you,” I murmur, feeling Izzie’s leg rub against mine. Chills spark up my thigh. If she keeps doing that I might lose it.

”He don’t know how to make you happy,” I whisper, inching towards her. ”Or how to take care of you.”

”Paige,” she sighs - it’s nearly a moan. And I’m not even touching her. It drives me crazy. I can’t hold back anymore. 

In the stillness of the night, I lean in and press my lips on hers. A quiet groan spills from my mouth but she swallows it, opening her mouth further. She tastes like toothpaste, and strawberries just like I remembered. Suddenly I forget how I ever survived without her. It’s as if someone’s been holding me underwater, and suddenly I can breathe again.

”Oh God,” she breathes out, her hands wrapping around me and pulling me closer. Her front presses into me and I feel all of her. My eyes are watering with need and lust and love, sliding my tongue into her mouth. She meets it with hers, like she’s just as starved as I am.

It feels like a dream. I’m scared to stop, scared she’ll disappear from my fingertips. I let my hand drag down her side, over her ribs, to her ass where Jasper touched before. But this time she’s gasping for air, clinging to me. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone more.

”I missed you so bad,” I mumble into her mouth. Izara merely nods, wrapping her leg around me and pulling me on top of her. I’m a puddle in my boxers, dripping down my thighs. She feels the same, bucking her hips into my leg to look for any sort of relief - the type she hasn’t had since she left Dallas.

”Fuck ma,” I whimper as she kisses down my neck, and breathes into my ear the way she knew I liked. It’s like no time had passed, we still remembered everything. Simultaneously it had been far too long.

”Baby,” she cries out and I nearly collapse. But it’s not right. She’s with someone else. And even if that someone else was Jasper, it wasn’t the right way to start with us - no more secrets. I had to do this right.

Her nails dig into my back, and I almost forget why I should stop. She’s begging for it. It would be so easy to just keep going. But I can’t.

I pull back, crashing onto my back beside her. She sits up, gasping for air.

”Paige,” she protests. But I pull her down and kiss her cheek.

”You gotta talk to Jasper first,” I tell her, surprised by the discipline I had. ”I’m not gonna be someone’s secret no more.”

Izara thinks for a while, mouth parted and eyes turned down to her lap.

”Yeah,” she hums. ”Okay. I’ll talk to him.” Her voice wavers, unsure of what she just promised.

I nod. ”Okay.”

And as she lies down we both know we must wait just a little longer. I tell myself it’s only a couple days. But it’s felt like eternity already, and I’m growing tired.

Against my better judgement, I pull her to my chest, like I had many times before. Her body melts into me, softening as she rests her cheek against my skin. It’s like it was before, Iz curled up beside me, her breath tinkling my skin. But the stakes are higher. And this time we won’t mess up. I’ll do anything to prove to her that I’m her future, her forever.

-

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[hannie-dul-set]

my youth is fee — [PREVIEW].

SYNOPSIS. there’s this one boy who keeps reminding you that there’s no price to enjoying the moment, and that there’s no such thing as a deadline in living life to its fullest.

PAIRING. taesan x female! reader. GENRE. college! au, romance, humor, coming of age, comfort (no hurt), light angst, childhood friends to lovers (fuck you, you’re never taking this trope away from me), younger brother! woonhak, taesan is your manic pixie dream boy. i saw the clip of him saying that his ideal type is someone he could tease and i’ve never been the same ever since— i.e. he’s a shameless flirt in this watch out. WARNINGS. swearing, alcohol, mc is older than taesan and shorter than him (it’s dynamic relevant i promise), the many struggles (and mistakes) of the eldest sister in an asian household, pressure and anxiety attached to a graduating student. yeah, i’m projecting leave me alone. WORD COUNT. preview, 5k | full fic, est. at least 30k LMAO.

RELEASE DATE. within the month of june. TAGLIST. dm/ask/comment to be added.

NOTE. this is my last major project before ultimately graduating and probably getting even less time to write at this point HAHAH so i’m really targeting to finish and release it this month for the sake of thematic relevance, and while my emotions are still on high HAHAHAH. if you've read some of my fics before, let me just say upfront that this is gonna be in the same vein as peach tree, love vomit, and mogi/nabi. meaning— it’s gonna be so full of love and endearment that ur gonna be sick by the end of it!!! woohoo!!!!

preview under the cut.

YOU’D LIVED MOST OF YOUR LIFE AS AN OLDER SISTER TO SIX BOYS. Well. Not exactly, but figuratively. Only one of those boys is your actual brother. The rest are totally against your own will. 

See, you didn’t sign up for it. It’s just that your mom has five friends living in the same neighborhood, and those five friends of hers had five sons after she had you as a daughter— meaning, you were born into the role as a direct consequence of your parents deciding to marry the moment they reached the age of majority. Not the smartest decision, but they were high school sweethearts in love. Also, your dad was gonna inherit Gwangju’s fruit and vegetable monopoly, anyway. They were set out for life.

Anyhow, the details aren’t really necessary. This is just to explain why you, as a graduating senior, are so at home being surrounded by a handful of freshmen right now. 

“Seonbae, I read your article in the Policy Studies Journal! I totally agree with your analysis.”

“You’re literally one week old in this program. Quit acting like you understood anything.”

“By the way, seonbae, is Prof Yeon’s classes really hard? I have him for my intro class, and—”

“Congratulations on your LOGODI internship, noona! Are you gonna be paying for the next round of drinks?”

It’s almost like your face muscles have stiffened from smiling too much, and your beer glass has been left untouched for the last ten to fifteen minutes. The kids continue to eagerly swarm you with questions and songs of praises. It currently being your department’s opening party and you being the face of your department— you kind of expected this much. Still, it’s a little overstimulating. But you continue responding to as many questions as you can because, again, it’s not something you’re not used to.

“Thank you for reading my article, Dohoon. Prof Yeon actually helped me a lot with it, and he isn’t as bad as you think, Jiyeon! Just keep up with the readings, and you’ll be fine.”

They’re cute. They’re excited. Keeping up with a bunch of energetic kids is something you’d been doing since the age of three. But as you continue to age, it does get a bit more exhausting as the years pass.

“Hey, now— leave your seonbae alone, kids. You’re all suffocating her with your questions.”

Your saving grace comes in the form of Kim Sunwoo sauntering out of nowhere to drop an arm on your shoulder from behind your chair. 

A release of breath slips past your lips, right before it finally manages to touch the cold rim of your glass. You’re about to welcome his appearance with a smile, but he rips your gratefulness away just as quickly as he offered it. “She just got dumped. She’s suffering from a breakup right now.” Two pats on the same shoulder. Two very patronizing pats. “Let her drink her sorrows away in peace.”

The beer doesn’t even make it to the middle of your throat when you choke it back out. A chorus of gasps break out. You wipe your mouth with your sleeve as you snap your head back. “Kim Sunwoo, what the hell?”

He grins. He flashes you a peace sign. Then starts walking away.

“Hey, you, get back here—”

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry to hear that, seonbae. I hope you’re doing okay.”

“At least you’d be busy with your internship to think about too much…?”

“Cheer up, seonbae! You’re probably too good for that Choi Soobin guy, anway!”

How the hell did these kids even know who your ex is?! Where the hell did Kim Sunwoo run off to?!

“I saw him once and…He’s actually really handsome.”

“O—oh, then— then forget about him, seonbae! You’ll find someone better!”

Somehow, you manage to excuse yourself from the brood of ducklings to hunt down that damned rat. You spot the hood of his jacket— sitting on the same table as Yeji, and giving you the perfect opportunity to yank in down and elicit a guttural yelp from him. “Gah!”

“Move over, asshole.”

“Hey, you’re here!”  Yeji greets you, pushing off an extremely offended Sunwoo from his chair and taps on the seat the moment his ass leaves the surface. “Sit! I haven’t heard a whiff from you over break and the first thing I find out is that you broke up with Choi fucking Soobin. What the hell happened?”

“Correction. He broke up with her,” Sunwoo sniggers, straggling onto another vacant seat on the table. “Imagine the whiplash when I got the notifs ‘I got the internship,’ and ‘Choi Soobin dumped me,’ with not even a two-hour interval between each text. Crazy shit.”

You groan. Yeji very timely pushes her drink towards you and you take a swig. 

It really wasn’t that dramatic of a breakup. The day you received the acceptance email, you had a dinner scheduled with your then boyfriend. If Sunwoo was whiplashed, how does he think you felt when you told Soobin about the news over pasta, him congratulating you and that he knew you’d get it— only for it to be followed by a pregnant silence as he nervously gulps down a glass of water, just to drop the foreboding opening of, “You’re amazing and I’m really proud of you, but…”

Ugh. Recalling it causes a vein in your head to tick. You slam the glass down on the table. “Is it messed up to say that I was more mad than heartbroken over it?”

“Girl, what are you talking about?” Yeju huffs.  “I’d be pissed too if that hot of a guy broke up with me— not to mention a hot guy you’d been dating for three years! You didn’t even put up a fight! How could you just go with it?!”

“What, did you want me to beg him not to dump me? I have my pride too!” you screech back. Sunwoo is just watching you both like he’s watching a liveshow. “But that’s not the reason why I’m so pissed. This breakup just obliterated my 40 Year Plan, and I’ve been losing sleep trying to figure out how to get back on track and fix it.”

You fear you’ve just lost the room at the mention of your 40 Year Plan.

“Your…what?”

40 Year Plan. At age nineteen, you enter university. By twenty-three, you graduate and get a good job in the same year. Which is why you were so hell bent on getting the internship at the Local Government Officials Development Institute, under the Ministry of the Interior and Safety. Not only does it give you an easy opening to networking and eventually landing a job there, the internship is paid despite being a public institution— which is one of the major reasons why applications are always a battlefield every year.

You were warned by a senior while you were still in the midst of preparing your application. That there’s no such thing as free lunch, and the pay is definitely not worth the amount of work they put you through. 

Nevertheless, it’s still your gateway ticket to landing a stable job fresh out of graduation, ensuring that you stay on track and stay on schedule. That plan’s been fucked entirely by your recent breakup, though. 

You were supposed to get married by age twenty-five. Live a happy married life for the next five years domestically. Then your vacations in your thirties are gonna be spent travelling the world. Now, how the hell are you supposed to meet a new guy and fall in love with him just enough for you to want a ring on your finger— without wasting so much of your damn time on useless blind dates and dating apps— all within two damn years when it took you your entire life to meet Choi Soobin?

“My schedule has already been delayed after taking a gap year last year to save money,” you continue complaining. The alcohol is slowly starting to sink into your system. Your friends are looking at you like you’re insane.

“It’s…more fucked up that you scheduled literally your entire life,” Yeji remarks.

“And why does your plan only come up to 40 years old?” 

Sunwoo knows the answer, but he asked anyway. “Duh. I plan on dying by then.” You immediately shut down their looks of worry because they say anything else. “Either from a car crash or through natural causes. I don’t want to die as an old lady. I need to be pretty on my deathbed.”

They’re not looking at you any better. “You’re completely abnormal,” she tells you.

“And what the hell makes you think you’d naturally die at that age?” he spouts.

“I don’t know, the sinking standard of living? The crashing global economy? The increasingly precarious geopolitical landscape? Fucking climate change?” you grunt, finishing the glass in your hand. “We’d be lucky if the world doesn’t end in twenty-years. Maybe I’d have to adjust my timeline.”

Your two friends continue to prattle about how viscerally insane you are, and you listen but let the words come in one ear and out the other while you tap a finger on the table, waiting for a server to come by so you can order another drink. In the background, mish-mashed with the voices of Sunwoo and Yeji, you heard the restaurant door ringing open. Seems like more freshmen are pouring in. 

“Hi, is this where the public administration majors are partying?”

“Hell yeah, dude! Are you a freshman?”

“Yeah, but I’m from the performing arts department.”

“Who cares, you guys come on in!”

“Sweet!”

There’s nothing sweet about getting your plans derailed. As far as you remember, you’ve always been hellbent on speeding through life— growing up as quickly as you can so you live and die on your own terms. You moved out from your home in Gwangju to attend high school in Seoul. You gradually stopped asking for support from your parents when you got into BNDU with a full-ride. And you’re pretty sure the root cause for this insanity (as your dear friends like to put it) is your very formative childhood.

“Whoa. So this is what a college party is like.”

“Hey, don’t get distracted!”

Going back to your dearest mother and her group of high school friends— for three years, you’d also been their honorary daughter. And then another one of your aunties got married shortly after your mom did. It was at age three that you’d already started living for somebody else.

“Darling, come and meet Sungho!”

See, your mother and her friends never really…gave up on their youth. Even in their thirties and forties, even after starting their own families and lives, they always made sure to have Friday brunches at a new restaurant every week, weekend shopping trips and two-day-one night trips by the sea and uphill mountains. Naturally, these girl trips often became family hangouts. Your mom would bring you along, and your mom’s friends would bring along their kids as well.

The thing is, your moms and dads would often do their own thing, loosely supervising the rotational playdates held at someone’s else’s house each time— so you, more often than not, end up being the eldest person in the room that the rest of the kids look up to. 

First, it was just you. Then came Sungho. Followed by Sanghyeok and Jaehyun. And then Dongmin and Donghyun in the same year. You were essentially the person of authority for these five until you were in first grade. 

And then five became six when your mom gave birth to your younger brother—

“Kim Woonhak!”

Wait. The beer glass stops between your teeth. Hold on. That’s your brother’s name. Why are you hearing his name being yelled out in this restaurant? Why does that voice yelling his name out loud sound so disconcertingly familiar?

“Woonhak! We found your sister!”

Your drink dribbles back into the glass. Holy shit. That voice is Jaehyun. That’s fucking Myung Jaehyun. Your head shoots up, eyes wide, whipping around the room at the same rate as your heart is spiking, What the hell? Where the hell are they? Better question— what the hell are they doing here? 

“Hey, are you good?” Yeji asks in concern. You wish you could answer with a yes, but the moment your eyes land on one end of the restaurant, you immediately clock the six heads sticking out like six sore thumbs. Oh god. Oh god, no. 

You aren’t even given the chance to get your bearings straight when the other five finally notice where Jaehyun is pointing at. 

Woonhak mouth falls open. “Noona!” Then he starts barreling through the crowd. The other five trail after him, and it’s not a very discreet sight. Your face falls into your hands. Is this a hidden camera prank or something? What the hell even is this?

“Hey, are we about to get accosted?”

“They’re coming over here, do you know them, why are they—”

“Noona.” You pull your face out of your hands, looking up to see your younger brother’s disgruntled face. He’s slammed his hands down on the table— your table, your two friends sitting on the same table. His brows are all scrunched up. His tone is nothing more than a whine when he says, “Why weren’t you answering any of my calls?!”

Ah, crap. You shuffle into your bag and indeed, you find four missed calls from him on your phone. You sigh, rising up from your seat because it doesn’t feel good that you have to look up at him, but even after standing, this kid still has a good amount of height above you. “I didn’t notice it vibrating, I’m sorry, but Woonhak, but what—” You eyes flicker to the head popping out from behind Woonhak’s right shoulder— a silly smile and an equally silly wave from Jaehyun. You let out a sound and drop your head down, a finger massaging your right temple. “What…what are you guys doing here? Why are you here?” 

“Noona! This party is so sick!”

Jaehyun is quickly followed by Sanghyeok, who quickly jumps out from behind your brother, waving and jumping and very happy to see you. Next to him is Sungho, who’s looking very apologetic as he yanks on Donghyun’s jacket collar, who’s already starting to wander away, attention fished by your peers doing tabletop karaoke somewhere.

And then there’s Dongmin.

“Noona.”

The moment he steps forward, you’re prompted to look up. 

There’s a smile on his face— quiet and playful, the same hint of mischief mirrored in his downturned eyes. A pair of glasses are perched on his nose, but the most prominent thing you notice is something else. 

It’s the fact that he’s now looking down at you. You don’t remember having to look this high up just to meet Han Dongmin’s eyes. 

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Who...who gave you permission to get this tall?”

It’s enough that your brother already towers over you. Now this guy thinks it’s funny that you have to look up to him. But you can’t linger on this injury for too long because a sudden wave of whispers break from around you. You flinch, eyes peering to the side to see your peers and juniors gazes fixed on you in the center of the room. Your face burns. 

“I told you I could sniff her down,” Jaehyun proudly declares.

“Yeah, that’s on brand.”

“Is that a pool table over there? Donghyun, let’s play a round, lets—”

“Noona, I’m so sorry,” Sungho solemnly mutters. “I told them we’d wait somewhere else until you answered Woonhak’s calls, but they insisted on looking for you.”

Oh, this is dizzying. You catch from the flicker of your eye Yeji mouthing that maybe you should take this outside, and you couldn’t agree more. You mutter a few muddled somethings and usher the boys out from the suffocating humidity and warm lights of the restaurant, dragging them into the dewy and cold streets of nighttime Seoul. 

It gets significantly quieter. You find a spot under a planted dogwood oak on the walkway, the six boys sitting down and huddled up on the tree bench while you look at them, arms crossed and toes tapping. “None of you have answered my question yet,” you start with an exhale. “What are you doing here?”

Seeing them all together is like a sucker punch to the gut of guilt. When was the last time you’d seen this complete idiot ensemble? Four years ago? The one summer you spent at home in Gwangju before moving out for the second time for university? But even then you’d only see at least two of their faces once a week— except your own brother of course whom you had to wake up every morning each day else he’d sleep in until noon.

God, you’re pretty sure they were still a bunch of twerps back then, though. It irks you that even while sitting down, half of them are still kind of at eye-level with you.

“Why else would we be at the university district?” Jaehyun proudly sticks his nose out. “We’re also BNDU students. We’re here to party!”

“I’m sorry what?” you sputter. “BNDU students, what— what do you mean? Are all of you studying here? This year”

“Yeah!” Sanghyeok affirms. “

“Woonhak, you haven’t even graduated high school yet, what the hell are you talking—”

“Hey, c’mon now! Let them join us! There are plenty of drinks to go around!”

Maybe you should’ve picked somewhere farther away from the restaurant because one of your classmates— clearly inebriated— decides to butt into your business and invite your group of sparkly-eyed boys to something they obviously can’t refuse, like they’re being lured in by a pied piper.

It’s an inevitable mess. Jaehyun has already made at least seven friends from your major. Yeji is trying to hit on Sungho, who’s been trying to run away, red in the face. Sunwoo keeps on passing drinks to Sanghyeok and Donghyun and you make them tell you their addresses before they pass out beyond comprehension. And you’re keeping an eye on Woonhak like an eagle on the hunt for prey. 

“Ow!” he yelps when you smack his hand the moment his sneaky hand tries to reach out for a beer glass.

“Don’t you even dare.”

He grumbles. “C’mon! I’ll be an adult soon anyway!”

You leer at him. Woonhak continues to grumble while being locked down on the seat next to you because you can’t trust your damn peers to know that this kid is a minor. Dongmin has also decided to join you on this table— and the fact that he’s sitting right across from you, cross-armed and relaxed, makes it impossible to ignore the mischief playing on his grin, clearly directed at you.

“What?” you ask him pointedly.

“I was just thinking,” he hums, cocking his head to the side as if he’s trying to investigate something on your face. “You’re gotten a lot grumpier since I’ve last seen you. Is that an effect of aging?”

Your blood pressure simply cannot get higher. “Dongmin, you lot are already on thin ice.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, raising two hands up in surrender. “But don’t worry, noona. You’ll still be pretty even when you turn sixty.”

This fucking kid, you swear. You catch your head in your hands with a defeated groan, not bothering to give him a response. You just had to be stuck with the most stressful one, even while growing up because sure, Jaehyun had the energy of eight toddlers in one body. Sure, Donghyun would suddenly hold you at gunpoint with questions about the universe and the solar system of which your middle school aged brain did not have the answers to. Sure, you’d get a heart attack trying to keep watch on Sanghyeok in case he pulled another flying stunt on the stairs and landed himself in the hospital again. But out of all the boys Han Dongmin was the one you’d always dreaded to babysit the most because—

“Noona,” he tries calling out to you as you continue to question your life choices while counting the crumbs on the table. “Noona? Hello? Can’t believe you’re gatekeeping your face from me after I called you pretty.”

—he’s always been way too blunt and brazen. To the point that even he manages to get under your thick skin.

“I still haven’t gotten a good enough answer as to why you six decided to hunt me down,” you nag him, diverting the conversation. “Do you plan on telling me now or wha—”

“Seonbae!”

Your interrogation gets interrupted by the arrival of a few of your female juniors, taking the liberty to sit around your table as well. Second years. Sophomores. They come to greet and congratulate you on your internship. You thank them with a smile and wait for the actual kicker— coming in the form of a whisper from the junior who grabbed a chair from the other booth to nudge herself next to you.

“Can…can you introduce me to the guy in front of you?”

You press your lips together to mask your amusement. You’ve got no reason to say no and stop a show from unfolding— and maybe you’d be able to get something to tease Han Dongmin with this time and finally instill some revenge— but once you finish your quick introductions and step back from the conversation, you’re pretty surprised to see the sudden 180 of his usual playful demeanor, and the sudden drop in his expression that you almost don’t recognize the man before you.

“Dongmin-ah,” your poor junior tries to test out his name.

“Just call me Taesan,” he suddenly corrects in a less than friendly tone. 

You try to look at Woonhak for an answer to this change in behavior, but he’s busied himself with a game on his phone because you’d been policing all his fun tonight (his accusation, not yours), and when you shift your attention back to the two, the atmosphere had become absolutely, incorrigibly frigid within the few seconds that you were looking away.

“Is it a nickname? What does it mean?”

“Nothing much.”

“Ah, well, then, what’s your major?”

“I’m undecided.”

“O—oh, uh, where— where did you get your jacket? It looks so cool!”

“My grandpa gave it to me before he passed away.”

You physically wince at that one. You’re pretty sure most of those are lies because last you heard his grandpa is very much alive and kicking, but damn. He’s an impenetrable shield. You peer at your left and notice your junior visibly getting red and embarrassed. You’d like to step in and save her from any more of this, but she’s just as determined as Dongmin— on opposite ends of the battlefield.

“What’s your IG user, Taesan-ah? Let’s follow each other!”

“I don’t do social media.” 

“Th–then— then, how about your num—”

“Seonbae,” Dongmin cuts her off. “I’m sorry, but I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I’m not interested in you.”

Holy shit, what is this kid doing?

The tension is palpable. You’re pretty sure the surrounding tables have caught a whiff of the back and forths as well because the diameter around you is weirdly quiet for a party. What’s worse is that he’s now looking at you as if you’re part of the conversation, staring at you with a glimmer in his eyes that’s all too familiar when he’s plotting to stir up some trouble— a tell that he never outgrew since was like six.

He smiles. It’s a targeted smile. He looks straight at you when he says, “Right, noona?”

“What?” you croak in alarm. “Why are you dragging me into this?”

“Don’t play dumb now.” You receive a nudge by the foot from underneath the table. You don’t need to duck and look under to figure out the culprit. “How can I be interested in anyone else when I already confessed to you. And four years later, you still haven’t replied.

To say that you’re bewildered right now is an understatement. “Dongmin, what are you— what…what?” All your intellect and you can’t even begin to formulate a response. He just saying this like he’s reciting the national anthem. He’s insane. 

And the way he’s looking at you right now tells you exactly that he finds your flabbergasted expression absolutely hilarious.

Dongmin lets out a huff and rests his arms on the table to lean forward, closing in the gap between you into barely half an arms length, all while doused in all the smugness of the world. “I don’t know about the other guys, but I came to see you with one goal in mind,” he says. And then, with the tilt of his head, continues, “Don’t you think it’s about time you give me a response, noona?”

A chorus of ooooh’s breaks out from all your surroundings. Your face is as hot as the sun, but what you’re currently feeling is incomparable to the sheer and visible mortification emanating from your junior. Woonhak starts to make gagging and barfing noises from the right of you. You’re far too taken aback to tell him off to do anything about it— to do anything about this, in general.

“Woonhak-ah, you might end up calling me brother-in-law one day, you know.”

“I’d rather die.”

To add onto the absurdity of it all, the remaining four start to make even more of a mess.

“Noona! Look over here! I can do a trick shot!”

“Hey, who vomited in the bathroom sink?!”

Which leads you to the very sound conclusion—

“I think…I think it’s time we all head home.”

Unfortunately for you, the night isn’t over yet. You still have to make sure your five non-blood-related idiots make it back home in one piece. 

Sungho is fortunately still mostly sober, so he assured you that he can walk Jaehyun back to their shared apartment that’s just within the same neighborhood. Sanghyeok and Donghyun live in the opposite direction from you, so book an Uber for them and watch as Sanghyeok tosses his passed out roommate into the backseat before waving you goodbye. “You owe us a meal for ghosting us, noona!”

“Go take a shower first, vomit breath!” you yell back, then turn to the remaining sheep in your herd the moment the car drives off. “And you?”

For your sake and his, you forget all the nonsense Han Dongmin was spewing earlier. He just wanted to get your junior off his tail that badly.

“I’ll walk you two home first,” he replies. “I didn’t drink so I can get home just fine. But you— tsk. Probably can’t say the same for you, noona.”

“You—” 

With a sharp inhale, you try to reach for his neck, but you realize you can’t give him a noogie anymore since he’s now a whole head taller than you. Dongmin notices what you were trying to do, and just as well notices that you’re annoyed because you no longer can. So, he dips his head down closer to your level. He provokes with that slight squint of his eyes that feign innocence, accompanied by the upturned corners of his lips.

You stare at him. You sigh. And then you push him back by the forehead using two fingers. 

“Quit acting smooth, you’re literally a toddler.”

Somehow, he makes no attempt to egg you further and settles with laughing alongside your strides across the street, fixing the bangs you messed up while his other arm latches around Woonhak’s shoulders. Your brother verbally protests and whines but makes no actual effort to shove him off as you make your way back to your apartment building. 

“Did you tell mom you’re staying over?” you ask Woonhal, climbing up the staircase to your floor. Your question, for some reason, causes him to stumble on the very last step, your eyes narrow at him.

This is suspicious. That much is apparent because he’s desperately trying to avoid your scrutinizing glare right now. Dongmin gives him a little nudge to answer before your patience runs out. Woonhak gulps. “Haha, well, she knows.”

Not good enough. “Kim Woonhak, what are you hiding?”

“W-w-well—”

He doesn’t need to finish replying because you get your answer in the form of a very familiar suitcase parked right in front of your apartment door. It has around a dozen keyrings and PopMart figures chained everywhere possible. Your head snaps at Woonhak. He immediately tries to shield himself with his arms.

“I didn’t get kicked out!” he loudly explains. “Mom and dad let me transfer to a high school in Seoul!’

They what?

Woonhak takes your lack of immediate response as an opportunity to continue squeaking out an explanation. “They—they said I could live with you while I study here and, uh—”

You can feel it— the blood rushing to your head, you can absolutely feel it. You try to close your eyes and take in deep breaths to keep it down but it’s no use. Despite all this, Woonhak continues digging his grave with caution.

“And I…I start school on Monday, so…haha…”

Yup. No use. Woonhak flinches when you move a step closer. Dongmin tries to calm you down with a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t get too angry—” But you smack his hand away and snap your eyes up at him. His smile twitches nervously. “Whoa, haha. Woonagi, your sister has gotten pretty scary.”

That sort of knocks you out of your temper. At least just a little bit. “I’m not angry,” you grit between your teeth. “Dongmin, go home. It’s getting late. And you.” You turn over to the guilt ridden Woonhak once more, completely avoiding eye contact with you with his hands behind his back. You sigh in an attempt to relax. “Get inside and unpack your things. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

my youth is free. © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

[just-a-music-and-poetry-lover]

It's been more than a year since the original post. Hi! I'm still here!

In the meantime, I'd like to let everyone who might be reading this that, while I suspect that a part of the feelings I described will never go away, I'm doing much better when it comes to them.

First, last September, at my first day in a new university, I had a classmate sit next to me in class because they saw my "they/them pronouns", aro and ace pins (that let them know I was a safe person. I later found out this person is also aroace. In a class of 20 people, what are the odds? Anyway, we're friends now).

Second, I've noticed that I'm confortable with saying who I am because, inadvertedly, I've been talking about this with a handful of people irl, in varying degrees of detail.

And lastly, I've come to what is, in my opinion, the most important understanding I could get to in order to better my relationship with myself: my life won't change.

Because, I'll be honest, I thought that it would, for a while. Brief chronology ahead (I present ideas related to sex; in my case, they also apply to romance):

- I hit puberty around eight years ago, at the age of 12. This was around the time my friends and classmates at the time also did, so I got front row seats to Greek tragedies that were the romantic (and later sexual) lives of every teenager around me, without ever setting a foot onstage myself. I remember a now-funny, then-both-confusing-and-frustrating event.

I heard my best friend (we were around 14y) say that she and her boyfriend at the time had been playing with a "balloon" (literal translation of the word she used, but she meant a condom). I proceed to think "why would they need that", but not in the way that I didn't know what unprotected sex and its consequences were, but in the way that I wondered why they'd be having sex. Touching and looking at myself were sensory nightmares and dysphoria sources, so it had never occurred to me to look and touch someone else. And like the good stereotypically-undiagnosed autistic kid that I was, I assumed everyone was like this. Following this train of thought, in my head, one would only have sex if they wanted to conceive. So, not only was 14y old me questioning the usefulness of birth-control, I was also internally questioning why my best friend was having sex, since I knew she wasn't trying to have a baby.

- situations similar to this one kept happening. Fast-forward to me at 18/19y old, when I figured out I was aroace and was freaking out because, as someone in the replies said, despite never having wanted these things for myself, I assumed *everyone* got into a relationship eventually. So when I finally realized that *that* would make more miserable than I thought, I didn't know what to think/do.

Because of this, I want to leave a message here for other baby aces that might read this:

I accepted who I was much more easily when I understood that simply keeping my life as it already is was the path of least resistance.

I have never been in a relationship (romantic or sexual). Understanding myself as aroace helped me realize that it wasn't because I've irredeemably unattractive since I was 12. That was because I didn't want to, and didn't force myself into ignoring what I already knew was the best for me. This is the only reason I use the labels.

Yes, I mourned.

Yes, I still mourn.

But most importantly, I can finally say that I feel Proud of myself.

I am aromantic. I am asexual.

I wish I felt Pride in that. I can't. Not yet, at least.

It's not because there's something wrong with lacking these forms of attraction. There is not. I absolutely love and envy those that have been able to overcome their internalized bigotry towards this. I do.

It's just that me realizing this about myself is pretty recent. And I'm mourning.

Yeah. I'm mourning aspects of life that I'm never going to experience and that I never wanted in the first place. And I'm crying over it almost every day.

Again, it's not because there's something wrong with this. Aromantic and asexual people are not broken.

I've never been in a relationship, romantic or sexual. I never wanted to, not really. But it's fucking hard to have people every day saying things like "that's a sad way to live" or "you're missing out".

I'm not mourning my lack of romantic and sexual attraction to anyone because it's something that I ever inherently missed. I'm mourning it because this fucking society has drilled into my mind that I'm broken and incomplete without romance and sex. And that's fucked up.

[littlerosetrove]

I've made a post similar to this I'm sure, but I'm going to say it again that Tommy is my favorite partner Buck has ever had. To be clear, this has nothing to do with Tommy being a man. Let me explain.

While Abby was definitely a big milestone and someone transformative for Buck, if you look at it plainly, Abby saw Buck as a nice distraction, a play thing, from her life and not much more. Don't get me wrong, I don't think Abby is a bad person, but she did make some shitty decisions. I think even when it became clear to Abby that Buck wanted more, saw more between them than apparently Abby ever did, well she still ghosted him. The whole relationship was lopsided.

Ali was barely around, in more ways than one, for there to be anything significant said about her. In the end she couldn't handle Bucks job, so she left.

Some folks find entertainment in mess, and I do sometimes as well, but I found zero enjoyment in the mess that was Taylor and Buck. A big reason why is because I love Buck as a character, and all I've ever wanted for him is happiness and for Buck to be comfortable in himself, two things we didn't really get to see when he was with Taylor. It was rather miserable to watch Buck be in an, overall, unhealthy relationship. It was clear from early on they would never last, and still we had to watch their unhappy relationship be dragged around for an entire season. While I'm sure Buck had some happy moments with Taylor, it was never a consistent thing at all. As well, you cannot look my in the eyes and tell me Buck ever felt comfortable to be fully himself in that relationship. I did not find watching two people be generally miserable together interesting.

Natalia was an underwritten character. For me at least, we got so little from her that I could never understand her motivations for things. All I knew was that she was mostly interested in Buck dying, she was uncomfortable with Bucks personal life and background, and so I never understood why she decided to stick around. And then of course we had Buck say in season 7 that he broke up with her because she was really only interested in death, and I think his death specifically. Mm.

When it comes to Tommy, we've never seen such joy, excitement, contentment, ease, and happiness from Buck. We've never seen Buck feel so comfortable to be himself with a partner before Tommy. Tommy accepts Buck for who he is, and loves him anyway. He supports Buck and always comes when Buck needs him. They're playful with each other and clearly just genuinely enjoy each others company. In Bucks previous relationships, so many aspects felt conditional.

Plus, I like Tommy as a character separate from Buck. He's funny, sarcastic (which Buck loves), generous, kind, loyal, caring, smart, brave, scared, patient, gentle, realistic, a dork, empathetic, and I could go on.

Buck and Tommy may be currently broken up, but the show has made it clear that they both still care deeply about each other (hello, Buck is still baking months after the breakup). They're in a "will they, won't they" situation, and I'm choosing to believe they will get back together in season 9. Their biggest issue is miscommunication, which is not an insurmountable hurdle to cross.

[brainrotbee]

Guys, I found a fic hiding in my google docs. I thought it was mid at the time so I didn’t post it.

~

“Remind me who owned this place again,” Charles said, leaning against a bannister in boredom.

“No one important,” Edwin replied distractedly. He phased his hand through a floorboard near Charles’s foot and felt around. Nothing. He was certain he would have hidden it there.

“Then why are we here?”

Edwin couldn’t help but tsk in irritation. He understood that it was terribly unfair to Charles to force him to look through a house he had no connections to but Edwin also didn’t feel like explaining. So instead, he continued his search.

His childhood bedroom looked nothing like it had when he’d left for school in the summer of 1916. So many people had owned it and redecorated that it might as well have been a display at one of those newfangled furniture stores. Even the very structure of the room had been changed with new flooring and different window patterns. The ship of Theseus came to mind but Edwin quickly dismissed it. He wanted to get out of this house as soon as possible, before it began dredging up old memories.

Even though it was likely futile, Edwin searched through the drawers of an old dresser left behind by a previous owner. Nothing. Where could the damn thing have disappeared to?

“You know, this could go a lot faster if you’d let me help,” Charles said. He leaned against the walls and raised his eyebrows at an angle that made Edwin lose his train of thought.

“I do not need help.” Edwin inhaled sharply and stuck his head through one of the walls. “We won’t be here long.”

“Can’t hear you, mate.”

Edwin sighed in frustration and pulled his head back out. “I said-” He faltered at the sight of a glint in the corner of the room. He crouched and found the baseboard was loose. How loose though? He pulled it back and felt his entire body tense in anticipation.

Nothing.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. This was so stupid. They had actual cases to be working on. He was wasting everyone’s time, most of all Charles’s. There were consequences to being dead; Edwin simply had to get used to them. He was being an idiot. There were far more upsetting things about his afterlife. It was honestly childish to be so fixated on something as insignificant as-

“Edwin?”

Edwin jumped and found Charles looking at him, his eyes brimming with concern. “You ok?”

“Perfectly well,” Edwin lied. “I’m being silly. Let’s just get back to the office.” He tried to stand but Charles caught his arm.

“What’s wrong?” Charles frowned. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“It’s nothing,” Edwin insisted.

“You wouldn’t drag me to a random house for nothing.”

Edwin sighed again. Charles had impeccable interrogation skills. It was what made him a great detective, especially with how persistent he could be. It was also incredibly inconvenient at times. Edwin knew he was never going to drop it. The truth was quite simple. There was no reason Edwin couldn’t tell him. But as he opened his mouth, his throat felt as if it had closed up entirely.

“Hey,” Charles said, sensing his agitation. “It’s alright. I’m not going to force you to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“I know.” Edwin looked away. “It’s silly,” he repeated.

“I bet it’s not.”

Edwin found himself fidgeting with his hands, a habit he’d tried for decades to break. “Do you recall how I left this morning to purchase a new book?”

“Yeah.”

“I lied.” Edwin finally looked up. He was met with the most beautiful shade of brown eyes. “I found out the last of my kin died recently. I wanted to look through her things before they got sold.”

“Oh my God, Edwin,” Charles breathed. “I’m so sorry.”

“I knew it would happen eventually.” Edwin shook his head. “My grand niece didn’t take very good care of her health.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I was hoping I’d find an heirloom, an old pocket watch.”

“But you didn’t,” Charles finished. “So you came here.”

“My old home.”

Charles nodded to himself, processing the information. Then he placed his hands on Edwin’s shoulders. “That sucks,” he said quietly. “Even if you won’t admit it.”

Edwin laughed but it sounded hollow. “It’s not as if I knew her.”

“Still.” Charles let his hands slide off of Edwin and smiled sympathetically. “It’s not fair that the world moves on without us.”

“It isn’t.” Edwin ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even care about the watch. I just wanted a relic of sorts.” He swallowed. “Something to prove that I existed.”

Charles hummed. His arms swung slightly, the way they did when he was thinking. “That can be me,” he offered.

“What do you mean?”

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” Charles explained. “Neither would the agency. That’s proof, isn’t it?”

That brought a weak smile from Edwin. “I suppose you’re right.” He drew himself up and gestured towards the mirror they’d come from. “I believe we’re done here then.”

“If you still want a watch, I could always nick one from a jewelry store.”

“That won’t be necessary, Charles.”

“Seriously, how are they supposed to arrest a ghost? It would be the perfect heist.”

They reached the mirror and Edwin grabbed Charles’s hand as they went through. He squeezed it once before they came out the other side. Thank you.

[mysteriousxgirls]

Harmony didn’t move—not when he stepped in close, not when his words skimmed her ear like a blade. But she felt them. Every syllable. Felt them lodge somewhere deep in her chest where breath didn’t reach. Her fingers tightened around the towel—not for modesty, but because it was the only thing anchoring her when everything else felt like it was slipping through the cracks. Like she was slipping. So she stepped toward him again. Not bold, not angry—just quiet and sure, like reclaiming something she wasn't ready to lose. Her gaze lifted, met his—bare, blood-raw. “I know what I gave,” she said, voice low, breaking in all the places her pride couldn’t patch. “I know what I keep giving. And maybe that’s on me. Maybe I handed you more than I should’ve. But don’t you dare stand there and pretend you didn’t take it.” A pause. Her voice softened—cracked like old porcelain but still standing. “You didn’t ask for my soul. But you have it anyway. And maybe that’s why I still look at you like you’re more than shadows and silence. Because I never saw you as just business. I saw you. The man beneath the deals." She wanted to hate him for being right. Her body hadn’t been in the fine print—she offered it. Maybe because it was all she’d ever known how to offer. Because it was the one thing men never turned away. The one currency she understood. And he—he hadn’t asked, but he had taken. Devoured. Like the rest of them. But then he said it.

As much as you weren’t part of the deal… I’m happy you ended up being- Her brow furrowed, her breath stuttered. Something inside her jolted like a wound touched. She searched his face, like maybe she had misheard. Did he mean it? That he didn’t regret her being part of this? That—maybe—he wanted her here? Her lips parted. “Shadow…” she breathed, a question teetering on the edge of her tongue. But she stopped herself. No. She wasn’t going to ask. Not now. Not when everything else was at risk. Not when Niko was out there. So instead, she swallowed it down. Buried it deep, like everything else. “I’ll wait for you,” she said, quieter now. “Just… come back.” And though she didn’t say it, it was there—in the way she looked at him, in the way her voice trembled: Please don’t make me regret believing in you.

The air between them was thick—suffocating, like smoke that clawed its way down the throat and left only heat behind. Her words clung to the silence like broken glass, glittering with something close to defiance. Almost enough to be admirable. Almost. His jaw ticked. Then, finally, he spoke. “I never said your body was part of the deal. Never asked for your time. Or your soul.” He tilted his head, eyes dragging down the line of her neck to the way she gripped the towel like it was armor. His gaze lifted back to hers, flat and unflinching. “You gave me the club. You gave me the information. That was the agreement.” A breath, slow and sharp. “Everything else, you offered or gave away.”

“You want me to stop threatening you?” he asked, voice rougher now, darker around the edges. “Then don’t speak to me like you forgot who you’re talking to. Don’t act like I forced your hand when you handed it to me.” His hand twitched at his side—restraint coiled tight in muscle and bone. “I’ll watch him. Like I said I would. But understand this—” his voice dipped to a near-growl, every syllable sharpened, deliberate, “—this is business. Strategy. Your survival.” He leaned in slightly, just enough to let the edge of his voice graze her ear like a blade. “I’ll come back. I’ll tell you what he said. But don’t twist this into something soft.” And with that, he stepped back—silent, composed, untouchable. Like he always was. “As much as you weren’t part of the deal, I’m happy you ended up being”

[cityofmeliora]

Hiiii, Radley! Anon who asked this question here: https://www.tumblr.com/cityofmeliora/785286868641136640/bestie-you-said-finally-twice-lksdfjdksj?source=share

Okay, okay, so I understood what you said in this answer, but I'd like to know what the relationship is between Copia and his mother. Based on the answer you gave in the linked post as well as gifs and posts that I've seen, I'm thinking it's somewhat neutral? It confuses me kind of, lol.

it's hard to say... it's kind of strained and weird for a lot of reasons, and there are a lot of ways to interpret it.

Cardi didn't learn Sister Imperator was his mother until he was 51 years old. we don't currently know why people were hiding this information from him for so long, and we don't know how he ended up learning the truth.

Sister Imperator comic #3 shows Sister gave birth to Cardi in Los Angeles and then brought him to eastern europe to be raised by Nihil's sister, Marika. in Chapter 20, we learn that Marika married Mr. Psaltarian and they raised Cardi together. Sister didn't raise Cardi, and his family lied to him about his parentage his entire life. we don't know how or when Sister ended up meeting Cardi again, but they ended up working together in the Ministry.

obviously, when you suddenly find out your boss / coworker has secretly been your mother all along, that makes things weird.

after Cardi learned Sister and Nihil are his parents, Sister kind of just expects them to all start acting like a family together, despite the fact that Cardi and Nihil were not aware they're related until recently. Sister has seemingly always given Cardi special treatment, as shown by her decision to promote him to leader of the band in Prequelle Era, and the way she talks to him / about him is somewhat affectionate / parental in the early Chapters. even though he was in his 50s at the time, she treated him more like a child after it was revealed she's his mother; buying him a new tricycle and telling him "You'll always be my Little Cardi."

Cardi seems to be closer to Sister than he is with Nihil (his relationship with Nihil is often openly hostile toward each other), but Cardi ironically accepts Nihil as a parent more easily than he accepts Sister as a parent? since Cardi found out Sister and Nihil are his parents, he's been referring to Nihil as his father and calling him "dad", etc. but Cardi has never referred to Sister as his mother or called her "mom" or anything like that, even after he found out.

and it doesn't help that Sister is kind of just incapable of communicating normally with anyone. the comics show she has a history of being weird and cagey and evasive and secretive. she always has some master plan / vision behind everything she does, but she refuses to elaborate or explain to the people that she asks to play along, like Nihil and Cardi. this leads to situations such as Cardi genuinely fearing for his life and believing that his parents were going to murder him. he had reason to believe that could happen because they did kill Papas 1, 2, and 3. of course, Sister never ever had plans to hurt or kill Cardi, but he was afraid because she said things that made him think it could happen, and she just never told him that they weren't going to kill him! throughout RITE HERE RITE NOW, Sister keeps saying a bunch of cryptic stuff to Cardi about accepting the end of his time as Papa that makes him think he's going to be killed and needs to accept his death, only for her to totally fake him out at the end and tell him through a letter that she's actually promoting him to boss of The Clergy. oh, also, she didn't tell him that she was sick and dying. he watched his mother suddenly drop dead right in front of him! because he doesn't understand her decisions, Cardi might find it difficult to trust Sister, but he still listens to her and goes along with what she says anyway...

Sister has genuine love for Cardi, but obviously she's not actually close to him at all due to the fact that she didn't raise him and he only knew her as his boss for decades, not his mother. i think part of why Cardi just lets all this crazy stuff happen around him is because he wishes he was able to have a real relationship with his parents, and that makes him want to forgive them for all the problems...

idk! it's all really weird!

[chickensauras]

I never know the 'best' way to post these, but: 5 page comic. Thorfinn 'no you!'-ing his way into a regular gig

Vaguely a stream of consciousness and tonally inconsistent continuation off this other comic

[andi-o-geyser]

ooooh, incorrect!! swing and a miss! looks like SOMEBODY didn't read Under the Red Hood

[thatweirdnoise]

miscommunication is a big plot device in svsss yeah, but Binghe really didn't need to chase Sqq out in Jin Lan and force feed him his blood while pinning the guy to the wall (which CAN be used for torture in a way that doesnt leave physical residuos), was Sqq avoiding him? yes. But how the fuck does Binghe's actions help at all? Like, even if it is miscommunication, what other interpretation would Sqq have of these actions?

And during the accusations later in the arc, when Qiu Haitang showed up, Binghe didn't say anything to help, even though I'm 100% sure he would have been able to at least stop Sqq from going to the Water Prison. He didn't do that, why? Because he wanted Sqq in a place where he wouldn't escape and it would be easier to talk to him, Sqq understood that part, what he didn't understand was the implied "talk to him so I can understand why he hates me and change that", which… why would Sqq understand that? At what point in his actions did Binghe act like that might be the real reason? Actions are a form of communication, after all, and Binghe's actions did not communicate good things at all (his actions were only really misinterpreted by Sqq because Sqq refused to realize that HIS own actions as a transmigrator mattered, the guilt he felt for throwing Binghe into the abyss blinded him to many things, as he couldn't imagine Binghe forgiving him when he never forgave himself. Because of this he didn't realize Binghe's romantic feelings, which were essential to interpreting all of BingBing's actions... and internalized homophobia.) The miscomunication happened because Binghe can act normal to save his own life

Anyway, I think svsss is a great example of how self-hatred can damage your other relationships. You view yourself so poorly that you think everyone else does too, and that creates trust issues with the people you love

the flavor that i love, and that i find missing in tgcf and mdzs, is the "real villain protagonist". Wei Wuxian isn't a villain, he's a misunderstood anti-hero, Lan Zhan isn't even close to a villain. Xie Lian isn't a villain, he's a hero with flaws and naivety, Hua Cheng is almost a villain, but he's too fair of a person to be one. Even in his villany he plays fair, making him more of a grey character than anything else.

But Binghe? That bitch is crazy. We can attribute a good part of his actions to Xin Mo, but it is quite obvious that the sword does not create feelings, it only exacerbates them. He is a selfish, sadistic and vengeful creature at the end of the novel, and like any good villain who seeks sympathy from the reader, these characteristics of his have a foundation and a reason for existing. But that does not take away from the fact that he IS like that.

And I love him for it, he truly is a villain for his own novel. He is the main perpetuator of the conflicts, MXTX tries to deceive you with Tianlang-jun at one point, and other characters like Zhuzhi-lang, but in the end it is possible to see that the one who is really responsible for the events is Binghe himself. I like that, good for him you know, be messy Binghe!!! And I want more of this

[front-facing-pokemon]

[royalarchivist]

In case you missed it, Jaiden just uploaded a new video! Congrats to her for 10 years of beautiful, funny, and heartfelt storytime animations!

[bookinit02]

maybe it’s just because i didn’t grow up in a family that watched the super bowl but every single year it takes me off guard. like i didn’t know it was happening until 2 days ago and then suddenly everyone somehow knows about it and about taylor swift and the chiefs (?) and the store is out of chips and queso and there’s no one on the road. like honest to god i do not understand what’s so exciting about it. what happens if the team you like isn’t one of the ones playing? are you still invested? do you watch just because it’s the thing to do? it’s so baffling

[neonhellscape]

okay its no secret i dont buy into marazhai being the persona he puts on. so as i've officially met him in game now, im making a list of all the in-game reasons i think he's a bit of an idiot [which i love btw. i find him far more compelling if he's a bit stupid/weird and he's trying so hard not to be but you just know nobody in commorragh is inviting him to parties]

the very first time you get a glance of him on a rooftop and. 'deal with this' "of course" proceeds to just walk off like 3 seconds after the other two

ambushes you. has you cornered. is in optimal position to kick your ass frankly, high ground and better weapons and utilising shock against you. ...he bitches at you for a while, gets insulted, then runs off into the forest with a maniacal cackle

heinrix fired a mild insult [considering what he's like to everyone else its barely an insult] and he took big enough issue with it to start saying how he'll break him and turn him into a pet. oh sure dude you're responding super well to this mild comment from the guy who accidentally insults everyone and their entire ancestral line at some point

i think it says something that he's learned to speak your language fluently too. that Has to be some kind of Yikes moment to admit publicly in drukhari culture. buried family secret great great grandfather drukhari-georg learned to speak mon keigh and now we claim he just spoke oddly because was shot in the head as a child to prevent the shame

he also knows the mon keigh lore that says youre a super special little guy as rogue trader and actually LISTENS to the fact you're the special little guy as rogue trader. and he does treat you as more equal/with more respect than the other characters. thats not just a drukhari culture yikes thats what gets you checked for a concussion or brain damage

literally socially atrocious enough its believed he's working with you [read: with you. not using you, not manipulating, cooperating. this is a big difference i feel] and only he himself doesnt believe it

ignore the fact he eventually DOES work with you which. is its own follow up statement

challenges you to fight him, to give chase then and there. i made him wait while i went through english government simulator where i queued for multiple days, did multiple day/week voidship trips back and forth, got distracted by accidentally starting jae's romance, pasqal telling me to servitorise her, getting blackout drunk with her, shipwide broadcast tm, giving her a voidship, her getting me a space cat, attacked by pirates, dealt with a plague, explored a few extra systems.......................

he destroys your palace. ...its rebuilt effectively within a week. most of the damage is in bodies which are just sent to the poor district to rot [almost feels worse than the damage done good job imperium]

the throne has claw marks. he could've blown it up or shot it or piled corpses on it but no he wanted to sit on the fancy chair and so turned into a common housecat mauling the sofa arm

how long was he just sitting there lounging on that chair? again see how long i kept him waiting. he was just sitting there trying to find a comfy position on this [for him] kinda small chair JUST so he could briefly taunt, break your window with his space motorbike, jump off the chair in a dramatic [but not gunna lie not that impressive] feat of gymnastics, then fly out. he doesnt even shoot at you as he leaves

i will continue my list as i see more that entertain me

[spookygibberish]

I've sort of developed a strange relationship with the concept of "realism" in the things I make.

Something I was very into as like, an eleven year old (im not implying this was immature to be into, just that it was formative for me), was speculative biology specifically for dragons, and now, specifically in the case of dragons I find a lot of attempts to make them biologically plausible fully missing the appeal of dragons at all.

Thinking specifically about the supernatural elements of JoM and where the line is drawn. The dagnyds are made from the remains of godlike entities, and are not entirely earthly animals. They have a supernatural origin. It would be fully justified in giving them magic abilities or making magic an aspect of the setting, but have absolutely zero interest in doing so. It doesn't interest me. I think about shit like healing powers or glowy energy attacks and my reaction is just "what does this even add? Why do I need this? Does this make things more interesting?" And it simply doesn't. Healing is more interesting as a prolonged process, combat is more interesting with teeth and claws and metal and blood. These are options which are more realistic, closer to real life, but the realism isn't what makes them interesting: it's physicality.

When I design a creature for this world, I am not thinking about making it biologically plausible, and yet, I try to design things which look like they could 'move under their own power'. There is a sense of heft and mechanical "soundness" which I value more than realism, but often also aligns with looking 'realistic'.

I would say that it's better to serve a narrative than strive for absolute realism, but I don't actually write stories, although I do have ideas for them occasionally. I guess a version of this which is more relevant and applicable is that i prefer to strive for a particular vibe.