#giggly chap

[lyralu91]

We could all use some Tom giggles in the morning 😂🤣❤️

[theragethatisdesire]

so sorry if this has been addressed before— but is there a certain schedule to when new chapters to your ongoing eren fic will be posted, or is it just a whenever-it-gets-written typa thing? btw all your works are literally incredible i'm in loveeee <3

hiiiii lovely nonny!! ur so fine, i don’t think i’ve clarified that at all hahaha. it’s just kinda whenever it gets written :/ unfortunately i caught up with what i’ve written as far as posting, so chap 5 is in the works and OFC i got stuck with the worst writers block of all time!!

but it’s like half done and i already have the story planned out in my head, so i know what direction we’re going :) just have to write it!!

i feel like chap 5 will be out end of this week <3

[luvergirl-535]

something like love

part - 8

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 7.0k

c/w - angst, language

a/n - i am so sorry for the wait you guys, but i’m so happy to finally be putting this chap out!! i hope yall enjoy 😈

When Paige wakes up before the sun rises, she knows something is wrong.

Ever since she was a little girl, Paige has been a sleeper. While the other kids were fighting off naps, she was begging for them. While the other kids began bothering their parents during the early hours of the morning, she would be konked out until noon if her dad let her.

And then she met Azzi. Became her friend. Had their first sleepover.

And ever since that morning so long ago, when Azzi had shyly jostled her awake so they could get breakfast, Paige will not wake up early unless it’s Azzi doing the waking.

But this morning, it’s silent—eerily so. The AC is humming and there’s traffic noises from outside, but something’s missing. In Paige’s half-sleep state, it takes her a moment to realize what exactly it is: the absence of Azzi bustling around, getting ready for the day, calling room service to ask about breakfast options.

Paige cracks her eyes open, to find they feel dry. Shit, did she sleep with her contacts in?

No—she didn’t. She took them out as soon as they got back last night.

As soon as they got back. Tipsy and flirty. Paige, still too aware of the feelings brewing uncomfortably in her belly, asking if they should drink some more, just the two of them. Azzi, reaching into her pocket with a sly smile and pulling out a joint. Paige, thinking she looked so fucking beautiful, moonlit and blowing out smoke from between her lips. Azzi, confessing things, Paige, asking for more. Azzi, shy and giggly—

Paige, giving in to her urges. Letting the marijuana in her system cloud any rational thought she could have. Pressing their lips together and going lower, lower, down between Azzi’s thighs, watching in awe or wonder or reverence as she bared herself completely. Like she trusted Paige. Like Paige deserved it.

Carefully, almost as if afraid, Paige glances around the dark room. She’s on the edge of the bed, facing the window. Senses suddenly overflowing with something acutely familiar, Paige can picture the girl on the bed next to her, almost knows exactly how she’s laying without even seeing her yet.

Deep breath. Don’t get sick, Paige. Be normal.

Roll over. Onto her back, at first, to stare at the ceiling, and then, finally, onto her side.

And there she is. Lying on her back, the sheets bundled around her waist, one arm over her face while the other spreads out to Paige’s side of the bed—Azzi is breathtaking like this.

Breathtaking, and beautiful, and vulnerable. Oh-so vulnerable, while Paige lays beside her, fully clothed. No part of her bare, because she was unwilling to show herself to Azzi last night. She wonders why, now. She doesn’t really have to.

Cautiously, Paige reaches a hand out, brushing a strand of hair from Azzi’s face almost instinctively. Azzi doesn’t stir, and it emboldens her to move her hand lower, fingers tracing delicately over her jawline, down the line of her neck, to her collarbones. It’s only when Azzi does stir that Paige pulls away, reluctantly, because she’s not sure if she’ll get to see Azzi again like this.

And it’s that thought—the thought of Azzi waking up, naked beside a clothed Paige, angry and hurt—that scares her out of bed, ambling quietly over to her suitcase and throwing on a pair of running clothes. She glances furtively at Azzi while she gets dressed, but not once does she wake up, and Paige doesn’t know whether it’s relief or bitter disappointment she feels when she leaves the room without having words with the younger girl.

Paige comes to a stop outside the hotel, Google mapping a running route, and while she’s at it her fingers move of their own accord, navigating to her messages and then to Azzi’s contact. But as she stares at the screen, she can’t find anything to say. Seeing that their last text thread was from last night, she scrolls up to read it:

azziiii where’d u go

u been in the bathroom too long

shoulda let me come w you

for real we’re abt to play a drinking game come back

i’ve been gone for like five minutes paige

the line to the bathroom was long

u guys in the living room??

yeah

bro it was definitely longer than 5 mins

not letting u out of my sight again fr 🙄

ok drama queen

just missed me that much huh?

yeah and what

missed my girl

ok p chill

i’m omw

hell yeah we’re up

The conversation ends there, and Paige distinctly remembers it, how Azzi had left to use the restroom and Paige had sat there, talking to old friends and boring strangers, not even pretending to laugh at their jokes while she waited anxiously for Azzi to come back. And how when she did, she took a mental snapshot of Azzi’s smile when they saw each other, her dimples lighting up the entire room.

The memory, unlike all the alcohol-hazy ones from last night, is vivid. Too much so. Paige shakes out her limbs, stuffs her airpods in her ears and her phone in her pocket, and runs.

She hates running. With her heart and soul, she hates it. If ever she needs to take her mind off of bad things, she goes for a run, because almost nothing could be worse than the feeling of her feet hitting pavement, her chest hurting, her side seizing.

Today, it doesn’t work. Even with music pounding through her earbuds, memories come back to her in crushing tidal waves: Azzi sat on her lap on the couch, Paige’s hands on her ass, Azzi’s lips on her neck. The two of them pressed close together when they migrated to the kitchen, Paige wrapped around her from behind, listening to Azzi talk to a few other students. She remembers how at one point some guy had approached them while they were snuggled up on the couch and asked Azzi for her snap; remembers how she’d practically snarled at the guy telling him to go the fuck away, Azzi teasing her about it afterwards and asking, What if I had been interested? but there was a satisfied smile on her face when Paige only pulled her in closer, as if she’d known exactly the reaction she’d elicit.

She remembers the way they’d held hands in the Uber, and all the way up to their hotel room.

And maybe it was inevitable, their only option, really, to end up the way they did—Azzi spread out naked on a hotel bed and Paige situated between her legs, licking her clean after she came.

Paige doesn’t know why she asked for a second time. Even in her slightly cross-faded, pussy drunk haze, Paige recognized that it might be because this is the only chance she’d get. Because fucking your best friend once is a simple mistake, something the two of them can laugh about later, even. Fucking your best friend twice is a slippery slope.

Azzi had given her another one, even though she was surely overstimulated and tired. Paige never wanted to stop tasting her, but once they were done, Azzi whimpering above her, she got this strange feeling—a need for affection, maybe even comfort? Like she not only wanted sex and fun but also some emotions attached to it, too.

Paige shakes her head, tries to survey her surroundings, tries to enjoy the view of mothers walking their babies, friends going to early trips at the mall, people commuting to work. But with each pound of her feet, something new hits her and it feels like getting smacked in the face.

As Paige crawled back up to Azzi, as they whispered sleepily to each other, Paige didn’t acknowledge the heat between her own legs, didn’t think about how the fact that she wanted affection from a hookup is somehow a larger revelation to her than the fact that she and Azzi just fucked, and she of course didn’t allow it when Azzi offered to return the favor.

She could never ask that of her. So she lulled her asleep instead, holding onto her like she’s afraid she’d disappear—and maybe she was. She wouldn’t have blamed her.

The truth is, Paige thinks that this was a long time coming. Maybe she knew it when they were fourteen and fifteen and slept on each other on the flight home from USA basketball, after a few weeks of knowing each other. Maybe she knew when Azzi’s family invited her to the state fair for the first time and Paige won Azzi a prize before they held hands on the Ferris Wheel. Maybe she knew when she spent the entire summer at Azzi’s house, and they spent nights tracing shapes and hidden letters into each other’s skin, trying and failing to guess what the other was saying. Once, Azzi had written something longer than usual, and when Paige had been unable to guess, she’d begged for Azzi to tell her what she’d said. But Azzi had stubbornly shook her head, told her that was against the rules.

When it came Paige’s turn, she lifted Azzi’s shirt and traced three words into the skin of Azzi’s back. Azzi had always been good at this game, and so there was a long pause afterward, and Paige thought maybe something real was about to happen, but then Azzi had simply rolled over and said, “No idea.”

Paige didn’t believe her then. Doesn’t believe it even now.

If she’s being honest with herself (and she’s never been very good at that) things between them have always been electric, charged by small moments between them, things that always went unacknowledged because both of them were too scared to bring this sacred little thing they had out into the open.

Paige stops to catch her breath, a little lightheaded, clutching her sides in pain. Running has nothing to do with the ache that’s overtaken her or the way she’s finding it hard to breathe.

The sun is up now, and she walks off the sidewalk into the little park she’s stopped at, heading over to a large oak tree in the middle which will hopefully provide some solace from the morning heat. She wipes at her brow, and the shade helps, but her palms are sweaty, back of her neck still hot, and it might be from the memories of last night, the taste she swears is still lingering on her tongue.

It’s not long before her phone buzzes and she knows it’s Azzi before she even checks. She’s always been good at that—sensing when it’s her best friend on the other end of the line. It’s a blessing and today it’s a curse, because she’s nowhere near ready to face the hurricane of emotions wreaking havoc on her mind. She takes a few deep breaths after the phone buzzes, putting it off, afraid of what she will find: an angry message, how dare you; a heartbroken one, why’d you do this to me; the truth, you’re a bad friend, maybe even a bad person.

With one last steadying breath and trembling fingers, she pulls up the message, only to find four words, so non-threatening they’re almost vulnerable: Hey, where’d you go?

She should be relieved, but her heart sort of sinks a little more at that. She deserves the anger, doesn’t she? The heartbreak, the truth?

Leaning against the tree, letting the rough bark bite into her skin, Paige checks the time and types out a reply. Went for a run, I’ll head back now

But she won’t head back now. She needs some more time. So, she deletes the message and tries again. Just went out, want me to grab u some breakfast??

The answer will be no; Azzi is picky about her breakfast, will only eat a certain few foods and never store bought.

So, sighing, Paige sends a simple: Went for a run. Be back by eleven. And before Azzi can reply, she turns her phone on silent, shoves it into her pocket.

She wonders what Azzi is feeling now. If its anything similar to Paige’s train of thought, or more likely, worse: that maybe this was all a mistake, that they can’t continue to be friends like this, that last night was real and that’s really fucking scary.

If Azzi just woke, she’ll be needing more time to think things over. So, jogging back over to the sidewalk, Paige starts running again, further away from the hotel. Further away from Azzi.

—————————————

When Paige steps into their hotel room, her shoulders are tensed, breath held as she waits for confrontation. But with a quick glance around the room, she realizes she can put this off a little longer—the bathroom door is closed, running water coming from inside. She sighs, shoulders relaxing, and closes the door as quietly as she can.

But it must not be quiet enough. Because a moment later, the faucet turns off, and then there’s a set of slow footsteps approaching the door. Paige tenses all over again, watching in what probably looks like terror when the bathroom door opens and there’s Azzi, in a hoodie and sweatpants, braids tied back, eyes and nose a devastating shade of red.

“Hey,” Paige starts, a softly as her strained voice will allow, but to her surprise, Azzi gives a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says simply, sniffling, looking Paige up and down. “Get in the shower. We check out soon.”

“I…I know,” Paige stammers, caught off guard by the way Azzi looks both heartbroken and angry. But, of course, she shouldn’t be. Not after what she did to her last night. Taking a tentative step forward, Paige tries to meet Azzi’s eyes. “Az, listen. I’m sorry about—“

“Stop,” Azzi hisses, stepping out of the bathroom, closer to Paige. “I don’t want to hear it. Not—not fucking now.”

Paige opens her mouth, but Azzi holds her hand up, swollen eyes flashing. “Get ready. We’ll leave once you’re done.”

Everything good and stupid in Paige tells her to fall to her knees, beg for forgiveness, take whatever anger Azzi has to give about last night. And maybe, a few years ago, she would’ve. But she’s never seen Azzi like this, and that alone raises enough alarm bells in her head to do exactly what she tells her to do, hanging her head as she sidesteps her into the bathroom, turning the shower on to cold to try and ease the burning behind her eyes, in her throat.

Leaning against the shower wall, Paige rubs a hand over her face, and wishes she were anybody else.

————————————

It’s one hour into the drive home that Azzi speaks to her—really speaks to her—for the first time all day. And when she does, it’s so unexpected that Paige flinches hard enough to jerk the car aside.

“Let’s go to the park, first. So we can talk.”

Once Paige has righted the car, she risks a glance over at Azzi to try to get an idea of what’s going through her head, but her face is turned away, gazing out the window.

Turning back to the road, Paige doesn’t respond. She just drives.

It’s a hot day but once they pull into the park an hour later, the basketball court is empty, and she’s barely stopped the car before Azzi’s getting out. She goes to the backseat and grabs one of the balls Paige keeps there.

“Az,” Paige says, unbuckling.

Azzi looks at her and slams the door shut. Paige watches her walk away through the window before getting out and following her.

It’s clear at this point that talking won’t get Paige anywhere, which is okay and also not: she’s bad with heartfelt stuff, anything too touchy-feely—it makes her uncomfortable; but talking is also what she does best. She’s never been one to stand in awkward silence or take it when she’s told to shut up, because she always has something to say and it’s why Azzi often affectionately refers to her as ‘my yapper’.

There’s nothing affectionate in the way Azzi looks at her now, nothing soft in those doe eyes, nothing sweet in the dimples borne of a scowl. Paige doesn’t know what to do with this version of Azzi.

After a moment, Azzi starts dribbling the ball, and the mere sound is enough to get Paige kneeling a little bit, body reacting before her mind can, ready for a game. But Azzi doesn’t pass to her. “You wanna play?” she asks tentatively.

Azzi stares at her for a moment, then slowly shakes her head. She drops the ball and it rolls a few feet away from them. “No. Not really.”

Paige nods. Shoves her hands in her pockets, then takes them out.

It’s a torturously long stretch of silence before Azzi says, “What are we doing, Paige?”

Paige looks at her best friend, but she finds she can’t really look her in the eye, and she hates that, so she looks at the asphalt underneath her instead.

“And don’t say we’re pretending,” Azzi continues when Paige opens her mouth to say just that, “because last night—that wasn’t pretend.”

The odd thing is her tone lilts up a little at the end, as if she’s asking a question rather than making a statement. But maybe that’s not odd because Paige wonders, too.

Trying to recall everything she thought about during the long ride here, Paige glances up, takes a small step towards Azzi. “I’m sorry.” She tries to sound both casual and heartfelt, but instead it comes out all raspy and choked, and she cannot cry right now. “For this whole trip, this whole thing—I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me.”

Azzi inhales like she’s going to interrupt. Now, it’s Paige’s turn to stop her. “Just, let me, okay?”

Azzi’s brows are furrowed, but she nods.

Almost immediately, Paige regrets saying anything. It’s now, with Azzi staring at her expectantly, that she realizes she has nothing to say. She has been thinking about it nonstop, all day, and still she doesn’t understand everything going through her mind—the guilt, the fear, the feelings.

She decides it’s safest to start with the guilt. “I need to say I’m sorry. About last night…” she fumbles, tries her hardest to right herself, “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this for me. Shoulda treated you better, instead of taking out my shit with my mom on you. And I shouldn’t have let things get so…real.”

Azzi doesn’t react much. Her stance doesn’t change, expression doesn’t really waver. Eventually she steps forward, so they’re an arms-length away from each other. “Paige,” she says.

Paige shuffles from one foot to the other. “Yeah?”

“You’re sorry,” she reiterates, and Paige nods, a little confused. Fuck, she’s really never been good with words. “You’re sorry for—last night?”

Something inside her wants to correct Azzi, tell her if she could go back and do last night over, she wouldn’t change it, and she doesn’t think she’s ever had to act when it comes to loving her best friend. But she doesn’t say that, instead opting for something less weighted, more trivial—“And for asking you to pretend to love me.”

Azzi’s stare is flat for another second before her eyes widen, and she turns around, pushing her hands into to her hair and shaking her head. And Paige can’t see her but it almost sounds like she’s…laughing?

“Azzi,” Paige mutters.

Azzi turns on her, then, and there is a smile on her face but it’s bitter, nothing humorous in it. “I can’t believe you.”

It’s Paige’s turn to stare. “What?”

“Paige,” Azzi says slowly. Then again, “Paige. You left me this morning. You fucked me last night and then you left me to wake up alone and you couldn’t even look me in the eye all day and now, what? Now you’re fucking—“ two steps forward, and then she’s jabbing an accusatory finger into Paige’s chest, “apologizing about last night? About everything? Like it was all a mistake?”

Paige can’t help but take a step back, heart racing. “I don’t…I mean, exactly. We’re all weird now—honestly we have been since the first week we started pretending—and I don’t want us to be like that. I hate this, Az. I just wanna be normal again.”

Azzi takes a step toward her. “Have we ever been normal?”

That gives Paige pause. Hands, legs, intertwined; fingers creeping under shirts while they lay together at night; stealing glances when they think the other isn’t looking. All things Paige never let herself think about too hard, because it made her nervous, jumpy. And now, after so many years of buildup has finally come crashing down on both of them, they have no choice but to talk about it.

She has nothing to say.

When she’s met with silence, Azzi scoffs. “Even now, you’re too fucking stubborn to admit it.”

“What?” Paige nearly whispers. “I’m not being stubborn,” and she’s really not, “I just—things were good, between us. You’re my best friend and I’m trying to apologize for—for the way I’ve been acting, for being distant and…and rude, and for being a shitty friend and complicating things and—“

“I don’t care!” Azzi screeches, and it startles Paige into silence. “God, Paige, you are so fucking stupid sometimes. Did you ever stop to think about why I dropped everything and came to Montana for you? Why I let you kiss me and look at me and fucking go down on me last night?”

Paige opens her mouth, closes it, and something curls in her tummy, this coiling in her gut warning her of how dangerously close they’re getting to everything she wants to leave unsaid. “I don’t—“

“Of course not,” Azzi scoffs, and Paige hates the anger in her tone. “I should’ve known. Because you’re only ever thinking about yourself. Making sure everything you do aligns with your little moral compass to make you feel good about yourself—well, guess what, Paige? You did fuck up this time.”

Paige steps forward, trying to wrap her mind around anything else other than the way Azzi’s looking at her like she hates her. “I know, I know,” she says, pleading.

Azzi stands her ground when she says, “You left this morning.”

Paige nods, understanding now. “I know.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed—time to think.”

“And, until just now, you didn’t realize that might make me upset? Waking up alone after last night?”

Paige watches her, and seeing the way her eyes get shiny makes her own throat constrict. “I guess, no, but I—things were going to be awkward, and I felt bad, and I was scared.” She finally admits it, the fear, and it doesn’t do much to loosen the knot in her throat. “I thought it was a—a mistake.”

“Well I didn’t think last night was a mistake, Paige,” Azzi says lowly.

And it’s then—just then, seeing the way the tears threaten to fall but don’t, trapped behind the words she wants to say but can’t—that realization dawns on Paige. And it’s enough to make her chest constrict because, no, it can’t be true.

Still, like watching a car crash, Paige can’t bring herself to stop looking. “Why?” she whispers, already knowing the answer.

When Azzi looks up at her with a quivering bottom lip and nothing left in her eyes but heartbreak, it’s all the confirmation she needs.

Paige stumbles back, and Azzi lifts an arm like she’s going to reach out, but drops it helplessly as the first tear tracks down her face. “I thought—maybe, you knew. I thought you knew and you were acting the way you have been because—“ she hiccups like a little kid, and it breaks Paige’s heart, “because you were staring to feel the same. I thought, last night, there was something real. Did you not feel it, Paige?” she doesn’t give her time to answer before she’s continuing. “And now I’m wearing these clothes in this weather because I couldn’t stand to look at the marks you left on me and you’re standing here telling me you’re sorry for wanting to fuck me, and God, Paige—I’ve loved you since I was fourteen. I loved you since I was fourteen and I should’ve fucking known you’d end up doing this to me.”

“Azzi,” Paige chokes out, the knot unraveling and giving way to free-falling tears.

“Paige,” Azzi replies, and there’s desperation in her tone like she wants to reach out, but instead she wipes furiously at her face before crossing her arms, effectively creating a barrier between them. “I need to know.”

Watching tears stream down Azzi’s cheeks, it’s all Paige wants to do to comfort her, to wipe them away. But her own vision is blurring and Azzi has this look in her eyes—like she hates her, like she loves her and she hates herself for it.

“Know what?” she whispers, the sun beating down on the back of her neck in a way that makes her nauseous.

“If you—“ Azzi’s bottom lip quivers, “if you feel it, too. If you love me, too.”

When Paige blinks the moisture from her eyes, there’s a moment of darkness and behind it she sees every moment, every fucking moment where they toed an invisible line, only to never speak of it again, to act as if nothing happened.

She opens her eyes, and realizes maybe they’ve spent their whole lives pretending, and only really stopped when they were just supposed to start.

There have always been feelings. Always an intensity when it came to Azzi, evident in the way Paige would get jealous of any of her other friends, the blowout fights they’d have over small things, because they couldn’t talk about the big things.

Paige has always wanted Azzi as something more. But—love.

Love is so complicated and scary and Paige doesn’t think she’d even be that good at it, anyway. And what if they did this—addressed the feelings between them and dated, for real? Azzi would be perfect, like she always is. Kind and gentle and soft, and Paige can only exhale at the thought of having her best friend that way.

But she inhales deeply, and imagines how she would is. She’s stubborn, hard-headed. Bad with words, bad with apologies.

“Azzi,” Paige says for the nth time, the only word she knows anymore, so she says it like a prayer. “We did one thing last night and I couldn’t even do that right. I couldn’t do any of this right, this entire trip. You don’t—you don’t want me. Trust me. You don’t.”

“You don’t know what I want!” Azzi cries, uncrossing her arms to push again at Paige’s chest. “You’re not perfect, Paige, and I am really fucking mad at you,” she bites, “but you have no idea how much I want you.”

“And you have no idea how much that scares me,” Paige replies, eyes downcast, a few tears dripping onto her sneakers. “I’m good at being your friend, Az. Let me be your friend.”

Azzi lets out a sob at that. “Paige, please, I know—you have to feel something, you don’t act the way you do and not feel anything, I—“

“I’m not saying I don’t feel it,” Paige admits shallowly. “It’s just like I said. I’m scared.”

For the next few moments, there’s silence, and in it Paige hears the birds singing, the distant voices of kids laughing at the playground. But then there’s a sniffle, a scuffle of shoes, and she dares to look up only to find Azzi facing away from her.

“Okay,” Azzi says, voice cracking heartbreakingly. “That’s it, I guess.”

Paige clutches at her belly. “What do you mean?”

“After everything that’s happened,” Azzi whimpers, “you think we can just go back to normal?”

It’s stupid, but that’s what Paige was hoping for. But she knows neither of them can forget this, leave it behind. And she doesn’t know if Azzi can forgive her, either.

She wouldn’t blame her if she never did. Even though the notion kills her.

“I’m sorry,” is all she can say, but it’s weak, broken, and Azzi just shakes her head, not bothering to look back as she heads slowly to the car.

“I’m tired, Paige,” she says. “Just take us home.”

————————————

When Paige walks through the front door, the house feels empty—her parents are gone again for work—but when she walks into the kitchen she finds Lauren on a barstool, eating cereal and watching TikTok. Paige tries to slip past her but Lauren perks up, spinning around and grinning when she spots Paige. “You’re back!”

“Yup,” Paige says, trying for a smile.

Lauren hops off the barstool and as she walks up to her, she gets this weird look on her face, like she’s studying her—but then she’s hugging her and Paige breathes a sigh of relief. “You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where’s Azzi?”

“She’s, uh…out in the car.”

Lauren pulls away to scrunch her nose. “Why?”

“I dunno,” Paige says evasively, unraveling herself from her little sister’s arms. “Listen, I gotta headache, I’ma be up in my room. But lemme know if you need anything.”

Paige makes her way to the staircase, and Lauren follows after, the way little sisters do. She hears the footsteps padding behind her and remembers when she was a teenager, and Lauren was just a toddler, and their mom would always joke that Paige had a little shadow because Lauren would follow her everywhere.

Back then, it was annoying—and it is now too—but it’s also comforting, endearing.

Still, Paige gets midway up the stairs before turning around to face her sister. “I wanna be alone, Laur.”

Lauren frowns up at her. “Why?”

Paige picks at her thumbnail. “Don’t you wanna be alone sometimes?”

“I guess.”

“Well, this is like that. Just need some time.”

She takes a couple more stairs, but Lauren is still following behind her, and she turns around again. “Dude.”

“I wanna hang out with you!”

“I’m sorry,” Paige says, and she really is, guilty about the disappointment etched on Lauren’s face. “I promise we’ll hang later, okay?”

“Like later today?”

“I dunno, Laur.” The thought of doing anything but moping with her own thoughts sounds exhausting, and it’s evident in her exasperated tone. “I’m tired, we had a big night.”

“Really?” Lauren’s face morphs into a teasing smile. “Doing what?”

Paige fumbles, covers it by reaching to play with the cross at her neck. “Don’t, Lauren.”

“I’m sure you spent allll night kissing your girlfriend, didn’t you?”

Paige takes a breath so deep it’s nearly a gasp, for air, maybe, and she spins on her heel, taking the last steps two at a time. “I’m going to my room now,” she says, eternally grateful that Lauren doesn’t follow her this time. As a last thought, she calls over her shoulder, “And don’t bother Azzi, either.”

Once she’s in her room, she heaves against the closed door, looks around. They’ve been here eight days now, and it doesn’t seem like long but they’ve already left their imprint on this room: their scents mingling into the sheets, bed unmade, toiletries scattered in the bathroom.

In her back pocket, her phone buzzes. For a wild moment she thinks it’s Azzi, calling to ask if she wants anything from the coffee shop or to lay out their plan for the day, but she remembers quickly enough that Azzi has no reason to be calling her. With trembling fingers, she pulls the phone out, and is relieved to see it’s Drew on the other end.

“Hey,” she says when she picks up, plopping down onto the bed as casually as possible.

“Guess what,” is what Drew starts out with, and Paige smiles tenderly as she watches her brother give her an expectant look.

“Aw, I missed you, too,” Paige says, and when Drew’s expression turns to a scowl she laughs. “Okay, what?”

“You’re ’posed to guess.”

Paige sighs; she hates this game. “Fine. Um, Dad got us a puppy?”

“No.” Drew frowns. “I wish.”

“Lame. You’re coming to see me?”

This makes Drew frown even harder. “No, but I wish that too.”

“We’re going to Disneyland?”

“Aw, I wanna go to Disneyland!” Drew is downright pouting now. “Your guesses suck.”

“You didn’t gimme any context!”

“The heck is context?” Drew looks at her as if she’s the dumb one, but before she can retaliate he says, “Fine, I’ll just tell you. Dad said when you get back he’s gonna get us those shoes we wanted.”

“Shit, really?” Paige should be reluctant to match with her eight-year-old brother, but in her opinion he’s way cooler than most eight-year-olds. And also, those shoes are pretty dope. “Sweet. I thought he wasn’t gonna cave.”

“Yeah, I gave him my cute eyes.”

“Thought he said you were too old to be cute.”

“He was lying, I guess.”

Drew widens his eyes and pouts, the look Paige taught him when he was a toddler because if she was too old to mooch her way into things, her baby brother would have to do her dirty work. And it looks different now, without the chubby cheeks and missing teeth, but it’s still just as adorable as it was then. “You’re a real one, Drewski.”

“Mm-hmm.” They settle into momentary silence, Drew’s eyes wandering from the phone to something ahead of him—Paige thinks maybe his TV—and his gaze stays faraway when he mumbles, “I miss you, Paigey.”

Staring at her little brother over the phone—the little brother who’s her best friend, who has never been complicated or scary, who is taller every time she comes home from college—Paige’s throat constricts again, a constant ache beginning to form there from how tightly knotted it’s been all day. “I miss you, too. But I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Still another week.”

“Less than that.”

“Feels like forever.”

“I know,” Paige sighs, suddenly grateful that her too-old-for-emotions little brother is avoiding eye contact, because she can see her own nose and eyes growing red over the screen. “We got the whole summer together, though. By the end of it you’ll be sick of me.”

Drew shakes his head firmly. “No I won’t.”

Again, Paige sighs, trying her hardest to exhale all the feelings creeping up on her. “Me neither.”

“I wish I could come to college with you.”

Paige gives an exaggerated groan at that, causing Drew to look back at her. “No you don’t, I promise. It’s boring.”

“You go to parties every weekend!”

Paige looks at him in surprise. “Who told you that?”

“I have my sources.”

“Was it Ice?”

“KK, actually.”

“Yeah, well, KK’s a dirty liar. I’m way too studious for parties or any of that.”

“KK also said you kiss a lot of girls.”

At this, Paige gasps, downright scandalized. “I do not!”

“Well, she said that you used to, before you dated Azzi.”

Her very name is enough to yank Paige out of this bubble Drew pulled her into, and it’s like getting out of a warm bed on a cold morning. “I guess so.”

“Where is Azzi, anyway? I wanna see her.”

“Uh,” Paige hesitates—she hates lying to her brother, because they may be over a decade apart but they are each other’s confidantes—but she can’t just go telling the truth. Not now, and certainly not to a third-grader. “She’s out right now.”

“Out where?”

“The…gym.”

“But you always go to the gym together.”

“Well, I didn’t feel like going.”

“Why not?”

“Drew,” Paige says, a little too firmly, immediately guilty at the confused look in his eyes, “listen,” she says more softly, “I’m sure you can talk to her later, okay? Just not right now.”

Paige expects more complaints, but what comes instead is a bout of silence and then, “Are you okay, Paigey?”

Drew leans closer to the screen to get a better look at her, and instinctively, Paige pulls the phone away from her face. “Yeah, I’m all good. Why?”

“You just seem a little sad.”

Sad generously understates Paige’s state of mind. But, at the same time, he’s right on the nose, reading her incredibly.

“Promise,” she lies. “I’m good.”

By the time they end the call, Drew still seems suspicious.

————————————

When, ten minutes later, Azzi still hasn’t come inside, Paige peeks out her bedroom window. The car is still in the driveway, and the sun is glaring unhelpfully on the front window but Paige can just make out Azzi’s form in the passenger seat. She can’t tell what she’s doing—she’d assumed she’d be calling her mom, because she knows Azzi and when she’s hurt she calls her mom.

Paige has never made Azzi call her mom before. She is officially the very person she’s always hated: somebody who could hurt her best friend, so heartless and cruel she could make the unshakeable Azzi Fudd cry.

She hates herself for it.

Hates herself enough, in fact, that she almost wants to go out there. To apologize a million times over—something she’ll end up doing anyway—and to comfort her and to let her break that last barrier away, the barrier that kept her from saying yes in the park, the root of all her fears and inhibitions. To ask Azzi to give her a chance and to be brave enough to take it. To risk everything they’ve so carefully built over the years for something that could be even better.

But then, Azzi glances up. Paige ducks away from the window, wincing at the sound of the car door slamming.

The front door follows soon thereafter, and Paige presses her ear to the bedroom door, trying to make out Azzi and Lauren’s conversation downstairs. She can’t hear them, though—she can only hear enough to know that Lauren is doing most of the talking. And she doesn’t have nearly long enough to prepare when Azzi’s familiar footsteps ascend the stairs, coming closer to her with each rapid thump of her heart.

Paige barely has the common sense to back away from the door just before she comes in. And then, it opens, and they’re standing face-to-face, Azzi’s eyes red-rimmed and stone-cold as they avoid Paige’s.

“Hey,” Paige says hesitantly.

When Azzi doesn’t answer, Paige steps out of the way, wondering if maybe Azzi wants to come in, but she stays put. Her gaze goes over Paige’s shoulder, to the bed. She looks exhausted.

“You tryna sleep?” Paige asks. Azzi only shrugs, making a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.

“Aight, I’ll…leave, then.”

Still, Azzi doesn’t move from the doorway. Finally, her eyes find Paige’s, and she holds them there when she says, “I think…I think I’m done, Paige.”

She’d implied it, earlier—That’s it, then—but hearing her say it out loud like this is a whole other thing, and it makes Paige want to double over. It’s instinctive, the way she reaches out to beg Azzi to stay, to let her amend for her wrongdoings and make everything right again, but Azzi flinches back and her arm falls limply to her side. “Okay,” Paige says, helpless. “I was looking at flights, earlier—I could get you one for tonight, or tomorrow morning, I know you prefer morning flights. But if you want good seats you might have to wait a couple days, but I could maybe call the airline and see what I can do? Just, whatever you want.”

Azzi winces, shaking her head slowly. “No, I meant—I’ll stay, for the trip. So your parents don’t get suspicious.”

“You don’t—“

“But after that,” Azzi interjects, “I think I have to be done. With you.”

Paige doesn’t react much, not outwardly—she takes a small step that’s more of a stumble back, and her eyes widen—but on the inside it feels as if she’s being ripped in two. “Azzi.”

“Don’t,” Azzi murmurs. She kicks at the floor. “I—we—need this. If we ever want a chance at being us again, we need space, okay? We need time.”

Paige stammers, so many words lunging up her throat but stopping behind her lips, creating a torrent so strong she can only make a weak, helpless sound. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“I don’t blame you,” Azzi mutters, looking up at her as she takes a small, tentative step forward. “You can’t help how you feel.”

Paige wants to scream at her, to say I feel it, too, to take her by the shoulders and hold her close and whisper, I love you, too—but she can’t.

So instead she says, “I wasn’t—I meant—I’m sorry. For leaving you this morning, for acting distant a couple days ago—for sending so many mixed signals, for being rude to you at the lake and for being mean when we got here—“ as she says it, it all becomes very clear to her, just how much she has managed to damage the trust between them in such a short amount of time. “It might not help, but I need you to know, you know?”

Slowly, Azzi nods, and her hand brushes against Paige’s arm. “I know you are,” she whispers. “I just—I don’t know if I can…”

“It’s okay,” Paige is quick to fill the silence, her arm burning from where Azzi touched her, “I know, it’s okay.”

Azzi bites her lip, and when her eyes trail back to the bed Paige shuffles awkwardly. “Hey, how about I sleep downstairs tonight, okay?” when Azzi opens her mouth, Paige stops her. “We’ll tell my parents that you kicked me out because I was—snoring too loud, or something. I dunno.”

“But won’t they think—?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Paige waves her off, stepping aside, relieved when Azzi finally comes in. “You deserve some sleep.”

She doesn’t expect her to, but when Azzi doesn’t protest any further, doesn’t say I can’t sleep without you next to me, it comes with a bitter disappointment.

She really, really fucked up this time.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334 @makethemhoesmad @the-other-half @rosemariiaa @router2260 @guesswhoitsn @patri-ots87 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @ijustreadignoreme @pazzilover101 @tropics43 @bueckersss @bigheadfudd @surferandskater5 @iknowth35nd @rhyxanwaters @graceinshade @azzilov

[fastandcarlos]

Drunken Kisses : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: there are all kinds of drunks, but you're definitely the type to pour your heart out, as lewis quickly realises

Lewis’ eyes rolled the moment he heard you groaning through the house, swinging his legs round and standing up from the sofa. Despite your promises not to get yourself drunk on your night out with your colleagues, he knew straight away that you hadn’t kept to that promise. 

His smile turned up though when he saw how giggly you were walking through the house, heading straight in Lewis’ direction on your unsteady feet. His arm came around your frame to support you, carefully guiding you to the sofa and safely sitting you down. 

“I missed you,” you whispered, resting your body against Lewis’, pressing several kisses against his cheek. “You should’ve come out with us tonight, we had such a great time.” 

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Lewis mused, barely able to get his words out between the feeling of your lips pressing against him. 

Lewis didn’t quite know what to do as you scattered several kisses over him, your hands cupping his head to keep him still. The smell of liquor lingered on your breath as you smothered Lewis with as much love as you possibly could. 

When you moved for a moment, Lewis spoke up. “Do you think you might want to let me breathe?” 

“You’re already breathing,” you sighed, tapping against his arm. “You wouldn’t be talking to me right now if you weren’t breathing silly,” you scoffed, hearing a chuckle come from Lewis. 

“Do you think it’s time for bed?” Lewis suggested, but your head immediately shook in reply to him. 

You finally moved back from Lewis, but your eyes remained firmly on him, studying him closely. Lewis didn’t quite know how to react until he watched a tear roll down your cheek, reaching out and wiping it away for you before asking you what was wrong. 

“Are they happy tears?” He nervously asked, bringing his hands to hold either side of your face instead. “Did something happen whilst you were out that you’re not telling me?” 

Your head shook quickly, not wanting Lewis to worry with his eyes still on you. As you continued to remain quiet, Lewis couldn’t help but fret though. Your heart was racing as you toyed with the idea of opening up to Lewis what the reason for your tears was. 

“You have to promise that you’re not going to laugh at me.” 

Lewis hummed as his hand brushed gently through your hair, tucking you into his side. He held onto you tightly, biting down on his lip to make sure that his laughter was stifled as he waited for you to tell him what was going on. 

It was one of the things you hated about when you got drunk, how you suddenly found yourself overcome with emotion. As you arrived home to Lewis, that emotion hit you in a wave, feeling your heart swell with happiness when you were greeted by his figure walking through the front door. 

“It scares me sometimes how much I love you,” you whispered, brushing your hand against Lewis’ cheek. “Have I ever told you how much I’m actually in love with you?” 

“Love,” Lewis whispered, fighting back his urge to chuckle in surprise as to the reason for your tears. “You don’t need to do this.” 

“But I do, because you make me so unbelievably happy Lewis.” 

Before Lewis could speak, you leaned forwards and trailed several sloppy kisses along Lewis’ jaw, feeling the stubble on his face tickle against your slightly chapped lips. 

Your conversation went on for quite some time as Lewis sat back and let you get everything off of your chest. Although he always knew how you felt about him, he hadn’t heard you be quite so honest before. But that was what they always said about drunk people, the truth finds a way to spill. 

You had no recollection of heading to bed that night, confident however that Lewis would’ve taken good care of you and made sure that you got to bed in one piece. 

When you woke up the following morning, you found yourself with Lewis’ frame wrapped around you to keep you warm. He was already awake behind you, smiling away as he heard you groan and quickly shut your eyes again. 

“I’ve got so many regrets about last night.” 

“Good morning to you too,” Lewis teased, leaning forwards to press a kiss against your cheek. “I would ask how you’re feeling, but after the state you were in last night, I bet that I could have a pretty good guess about how you are.” 

Your eyes slowly peeled open again, this time a lot more prepared for the light in your bedroom, shuffling slightly in Lewis’ grip. “I don’t even want to know about anything that happened last night, just keep me safe from how embarrassing I was.” 

“You weren’t embarrassing, just a little lovesick.” 

“Oh no,” you whispered, hearing Lewis giggle jokingly, full of satisfaction knowing that he remembered exactly what you had to say to him last night. 

Lewis let you have your huff for a second before twirling you around in his hold so that you were facing him, clearing his throat to allow himself to fill you in. 

“At least I certainly know that you’re happy in this relationship, you made that quite clear.” 

“I don’t think I want to know.” 

“It was cute,” Lewis tried his best to assure you, “you certainly wanted to make sure that I was listening as well.” 

“Shut up,” you murmured, “can we just pretend that it didn’t happen?” 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” Lewis whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I actually quite liked it, aside from the part when you didn’t let me move for your urge to kiss me repeatedly again and again.” 

Your head tilted back in disbelief, “I swear I don’t recognise the person that I become when I’m drunk, did I really do that to you? What must I have been thinking?” 

“Clearly you must’ve been thinking about just how much you love your amazing boyfriend.” 

“You’re enjoying this far too much for my liking,” you scolded. 

Lewis couldn’t help himself; it wasn’t that day to day you didn’t tell him how much you loved him, but when you were drunk that little extra came out that Lewis adored. 

As you fell silent, Lewis captured your attention again. “You know, for all you said last night, I want you to know that everything you said I feel the exact same way about you too.” 

“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better,” you assured him. 

“I’m not saying it for that, I’m saying it because I mean it.” 

“Thank you,” you chuckled, “and sorry that I was such a mess last night, I don’t even know what happened to me.” 

“Don’t worry love, I could get used to receiving all those kisses anyway.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[lyralu91]

Never gets old 🥹❤️

Tom Hardy + the Laugh Pat

[loveyhoneydovey]

18+ mdni, age gap and smut (this one is a little different and possibly ooc but it’s one of my fave tropes ever so i hope you enjoy it anyway. and ofc it’s a little messy)

michael robinavitch who assumed he was destined to spend the rest of his life alone. it’s not like he thought he’d be celibate till the end of his life or anything, but after a few relationships and tons of life experience, he made peace with the fact that maybe “happily ever after” wasn’t for him, that his relationships weren’t meant to last, but they brought him happiness nonetheless.

so imagine his surprise when he finds himself drunk on an impromptu vegas trip with a gorgeous giggly young thing sitting on his lap in a little corner booth, looking at him with heart eyes. the feeling that seeps through his chest combined with the quickening of his heart rate have him panicking for a brief moment, was a heart attack in the middle of a vegas club the way he’d go? he could already picture abbot standing on his grave laughing. but as you lean in closer and he gets a whiff of your perfume, (was that pistachios and cherries? his mouth was already watering), his drunk brain finally catches onto the fact that he wants to devour you. and when your hands come to rest against the roughness of his stubble so your soft lips can finally press against his chapped ones, he’s a goner.

and when he wakes up the next day it’s to the sound of soft snores and an oddly comforting weight on his chest. he looks down to find your body subconsciously wrapped around him like he’s the single most important thing in your universe. it’s not like he’s any better though, his arms are securing you tightly against him with an almost desperate grip. it takes him a second to recall the memories from the previous night. the details are slightly fuzzy, but he’s never been one to forget anything, even when drunk to point of passing out (mostly during his college days, he doesn’t think his body could take that type of abuse anymore).

so imagine his face when the moments of rough (borderline animalistic) fucking and soft tender love making come rushing back to him. when he remembers the cheshire cat like smile on your lips as you kissed and sucked on his freckled neck until you reached his grinning lips, your nipples rubbing against his hairy chest, his hands possessively gripping your ass. when he remembers being captivated by the blissed out look on your face, a look that had him puffing out his chest in pride as he kept pounding you into the hotel room mattress, your pussy gripping him like a vice, completely drenching him. when he remembers the way you reverently whispered his name over and over, while he held onto you like you were the only thing capable of bringing light into his gloomy life. not “dr. robinavitch” or “robby”, but “michael”.

and imagine his face when the most important part of last night makes it back to the surface of his mind as his eyes zero in on the glimmering rock resting on your ring finger. when the delicate whispers of you two vowing to love each other until death do you part suddenly have his chest feeling uncomfortably tight. and when the sight of your ring starts to blur with unshed tears because he swears he’d never know what peace felt like until that moment when he was in your arms last night. like nothing could get to him here, like he was safe and loved.

[spear-of-moonlight]

SLOW COOKED LOVE - LEE MINHO

genre: fluff —wc: 1.2 k masterlist

The practice room, always home, now felt like hell. Minho couldn't even hear the music anymore—just his ragged breathing and his shoes squeaking against the hardwood floors. He kept messing up, and he didn't have enough nutrition in him to tell him it's because he hasn't taken a break in- he doesn't even know how long. His knees give out and he stumbles, hands on the mirror so he doesn't fall. He gets a look at his face up close—he looked more gaunt, which made sense because proper meals were a fantasy these days, his eyebags looked and felt heavy, settling into the space above his cheekbones as a vessel for his stress to melt down into from his head. His lips were chapped. You had been too busy with production to fuss over them, to immediately brandish his strawberry lip balm the moment you see it.

He heaved, sliding down the mirror, head in his hands. Tears of frustration threatened to spill, but he blinked them back. He didn't want to deal with the headache that came with crying. With a deep, exhausted sigh that left his chest through his mouth like a freed prisoner, he got up, legs aching as he turned off the music. It wasn't too late, but he'd been there since morning, agonizing over every minute movement—the footwork, the expressions, the hips, the fingers—he needed every bone and muscle under his control. He only just realised his throat was dry and craving water. His water bottle was empty, and his eyes roamed between the four walls for an oasis. Nothing.

He didn't remember a second of the journey home. He was too tired to stop at a convenience store for water, too tired to do anything but sit in his manager's car. After a weak but genuine thanks, he padded inside the house, no, the home he shared with you. Living together came to you both as naturally as a child splitting a candy bar in half for their best friend. No second thoughts, just pure love. Just you pulling him closer every morning with a mumbled "just five more minutes..", just playing mario kart and screaming at each other like you'd end each other's entire bloodline only to cuddle afterwards, just drinking on the couch with some movie in the background that's soon forgotten as you get lost in your giggly conversation, just comfort and intimacy. That's what he needed right now. Not from anyone else, only from you.

He was met with the aroma of the kimchi jjigae on the stove that slipped into his heart and planted a damn garden there, the smoke growing arms and hugging him as if in an old cartoon. Even better, the sight of you stirring the pot, the 'hotter than the stove' apron he got you clinging to your frame, turning around to look at him as if he was the only one who mattered. As if he was the only one who existed. Your eyes weren't wide with adoration, you didn't run to him with your arms open, there was no big smile on your lips. No, this was quiet. The way your eyes softened, the way you gestured with a tilt of your head for him to sit down, and the way you turned back to turn off the stove and reach for the bowls. There was no need for grand gestures, you knew he'd be sat on the chair with happy eyes once you return with the bowls. You were used to him, and he was used to you. And that was what mattered. That's what anchored the both of you in the chaotic storm of your lives. Familiarity. Knowing that no matter what happens, you have each other. Cliché, but it was familiar. Clichés never change. You were his moon, drawing him in and making his heart dance like tides. Even after countless sunrises, you'd still be there. And he'd be waiting. No matter what.

He'd always sit down at that gesture you make, supporting his head in his hands with his elbow on the table as he looks at you with a barely perceptible smile and soft eyes that made your heart want to leave your chest and fall into his hands. But not this time. Not when everything else blurred and all he could see was you, his moon—soothing, guiding, glowing. You weren't glowing physically by any means at the moment—exhausted after hours holed up in the studio, opting only for a simple shower and not bothering with your elaborate skincare routine. But you glowed to him, like an angel, caring for him when you knew he'd be too tired to do it himself.

He wrapped his arms around your back, and you held his forearms, the cold spoon in your hand pressing against his skin. You set it down, turning around and pulling him into your chest as he burrowed into your warmth, as if he wants to bury himself between your ribs and kiss that racing heart. He breathed in your scent as if his lungs would wilt without it, hands fisting your shirt as if you'd disappear. The tears he fought earlier spilled. But he didn't fight this time. Because you were there to wipe them away, as if touching a dewdrop on a flower, to press a kiss to his forehead that lingered like a promise. It was a promise. And he'd trade anything for this, just this. Your fingers carded through his hair, soothing, gentle, with all the love in your heart pouring out through your body, seeping through his skin to join the flow of his blood. He looked up, achingly beautiful, tears glinting on his cheeks like the moon on water. You wiped them away, gentle as always, leaning in to kiss his forehead as always.

His right hand pulled you down by the shirt, his lips meeting yours. You melted into it, as if it was where you belonged. It was. It is. The kiss wasn't fireworks or sparks, but the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. And with the aroma of a home-cooked comfort wafting between you, you both knew the kiss would stay the same years later. Even as your lips left each other's warm embrace, you weren't ready to let go, one hand on his waist as the other cradled his head. He smiled at you, forgetting that your eyes weren't the universe. You smiled back, leaning in to give him that forehead kiss you missed earlier.

There was no spoken "I love you", neither of you being able to find words, lost in the depths of each other's eyes, photographing this moment in your memories. There wasn't a need for words anyway, the way he looked at you as if you personally placed every star in the sky and drew up every constellation was enough. The way you looked at him as if understanding every love poem at once was enough.

"Let's eat. You're exhausted."

"Mhm…feed me."

"I'm not your mother." You feed him anyway.

You always knew your first kiss would be in your kitchen—the heart of your home and the home of your heart.

[sunskisser]

good job on 1k!! if i would like to request the 🐚 with the prompt “i never noticed how pretty your eyes are before” with bucky please!

thank you for the request <3

“i never noticed how pretty your eyes are before.” + bucky barnes

꩜ bucky barnes x reader

꩜ summary: soft, domestic morning in bed. bucky is a lovesick fool

The sunlight was soft, snow-like in the way it powdered across the silken sheets. Golden flecks reflected off your skin like pieces of the sun itself. Bucky found it impossible to stop staring.

It was mind-blowing to think about, sometimes, that you were his. You were his.

He didn’t think you were perfect, because no one was. But he did believe you were the loveliest person alive. You were just so easy to adore, so easy to know. You saw him, and you knew him — the real him; yet you still loved him with the force of a hundred kisses. He’d give you a hundred-and-one if he could.

Bucky’s lashes protested, rheum lining the bottom of his eyes as he tried to blink. He rubbed them once, twice, three times. Till he could look at you without having to blink.

Just this once, Bucky thought. Just this once, I’ll let myself.

He reached out, hand hovering over your face for a split second before carding his fingers through your hair. When his arm started to hurt, he let it rest around your neck, palm on the nape of it.

You were still sound asleep. Bucky smiled. He moved his fingers to your chin, gently wiping away the string of drool from your half-open lips.

“Bucky?”

His heart fluttered, eyes immediately darting to yours. You crack them open.

“Morning.” Your smile makes him giddy.

“Morning, doll,” he murmurs, lips curving upwards. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, pretends he didn’t get to touch you just seconds before. He can love you as much as he wants to. “How did you sleep?”

You rub your eyes and yawn. “Okay. You?”

“Perfect.”

“No nightmares?”

You sound excited, hopeful. Bucky wasn’t going to take that away from you. He shakes his head with a small smile. “No nightmares.”

“Really?” you grin. You pull yourself towards him and kiss him, then pull back to look at him with those beautiful, big, eyes. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. “That’s amazing, Buck. That’s… that’s great. I’m glad.”

“Yeah, me too,” he murmurs distractedly. He thumbs your cheek, calloused hands to your soft skin. “I never noticed how pretty your eyes are before.”

“Liar.”

“What?” he asks innocently.

You giggle. “You tell me how much you love my eyes a million times a day.”

Bucky tries to hide his smile. “Well,” he tugs you closer by the waistband of your pajama pants, “that’s just not enough, is it?”

“No, it really isn’t,” you agree happily, wrapping your arms around him. When he kisses you, he feels your giggly smile against his lips. “I think you should tell me again.”

Bucky grins, teasingly giving your waist a squeeze. He clears his throat.

“My gorgeous girl,” he starts dramatically, “I think your eyes are —“

He doesn’t get to finish, interrupted by the sound of your laughter and the feeling of your chapped, morning lips on his. He wants to feel annoyed, really, but he can’t complain.

san’s 1k ocean odyssey

[lyralu91]

You can knead my dough and pop my lid any day you like, sir.

@alfiestreacle He just said CUMbustible 🤭😌

"You must always keep your hands wet when handing the mother ..." Tom Hardy's tips on making sourdough bread!

[l0vema]

Serenity

A/n: just wanted Dino fluff (my bias wrecker) cause I've been feeling some burn out. Enjoy🙆🏾‍♀️

You sigh as you pull the heavy work bag onto your shoulder . It's been a long day. Your head is pumping with an upcoming headache, your lips are chapped from the lack of water or food from your packed schedule. You can't wait to just knock out into your bed and sleep the entire day away.

Stepping into you and your boyfriend's shared home you take in the dim lighting of the house and shoved off your heels that have your toe in pain. You walked towards your living room wanting to see Dino before knocking out till the next morning.

"babe..." You call out before noticing the blankets strewn across the couch. Smiling you kneel to come face to face with him. Looking at his soft features and hair falling across his forehead. "You're so beautiful," you whisper. He was. The part in his lips, his fluttering eyelashes, the redness from sleeping creating a cute pink hue over his cheeks.

"mmmhmm," he stirred awake. Glossy eyes looking at you before smiling, "hey." He gets his arms free from the blanket to pull you into a hug. You fall into the hug and pulled up into the couch and slumber paradise he created. "How was work?" He asked so sweetly, always checking in on you. Being honest you tell him, "I'm starving, thirsty, and barely awake. I think I can sue them for not letting me sit around in a cute pantsuit and get paid for nothing." Your words pull a laugh out of him, "you're too fine for this suffering"

You turn your head towards his face, still in embrace. Looking into his eyes you feel a swell of love. He leans into you and pulls you by your chin to kiss you. It starts with a small peck before he moves back, " I mean it. You're too fine to suffer. If you want to stay home I will always support you. Or at the very least you could do less and rest more." You've had this conversation with Dino before, You trust him but still...you don't think you're ready to stop your research and work just yet-despite being so tired most of the time these days.

"Let me take care of you baby," he adds. You lean in to kiss him letting your love spill over into him. Sometimes words were too much.

You get up from him remembering your plans to fall asleep...maybe get something to drink before it. As if he read your mind Dino says, "let's get your belly full, go take a shower baby." He grabs your bag for you and leads you to your bedroom.

You strip and hop into the hot water your thoughtful boyfriend had opened already.

Post shower you feel clean and fuzzy when you walk into the kitchen seeing a plate made and Dino on his phone. "I love you so much," you confess as you sit at the island to dig in. Smiling widely Dino puts his hone down to wrap his arm around you from the back. "I love you too," he replies before kissing you on your head. "How was your day?" You ask him as you shove the pieces of food down your throat.

Once you are done and feel satisfied you sigh happily. "Let's go" Dino says (who was back hugging you as he told you about his whole day while you ate). He picks you up and walks down to your bedroom. You're quiet as he places you onto the bed, getting in next to you. "Are you able to sleep if you already took a nap?' you ask him. He hums in response as he gets closer to you and covers you both with the blanket. "You get me to relax easily baby and I know you're really tired so let me cuddle you even if I don't fall asleep." You nod and wrap your arms around Dino. The two of you are face to face and just stare at one another before getting all giggly. You love this man and how he makes you forget all the exhaustion the rest of the world brings towards you. He is a breath of fresh air for you. Dino leans in to kiss you one last time before letting his eyes shut. You copy him and no sooner does sleep pull you and Dino into the abyss of your love.

L0ve, M.A

[dreamwritesimagines]

1. I’m so so grateful for you for of course, sharing your writing with us, duh, but also being so active with us and responding to our theories and just,, talking to us?? Like that’s so sweet and I’m sure I can speak for all of us when I say it makes us feel involved so thank you 🥹

2. I’m SO excited for the next chap. I mean I’m always excited for what you put out but you get it!

3. Considering you said the next chap would involve more Birdie & Hazel interactions.. I’m giving Birdie so many hugs preemptively 😭🫂 lol

Thank you, xo!! 🫂

My darling, because you ARE involved! 🩷 Like, my favorite thing about writing is that I get to talk to you about it, and I don't think you guys know just how much you mean to me, because every time you send me an ask or a theory or a comment and such, I get incredibly excited and giggly 🩷 Like, so many times when I'm out with my friends, I grabbed their arm and waved the phone in their face like "LOOK! LOOK HOW SWEET THEY ARE" asdfghjkl🩷

And I love it when a fic is interactive, and we all come up with ideas and such, it's like we're all writing it together🩷 And you are incredibly creative and talented! 🩷

ILY and I'm so thankful for you guys, you have no idea🥰

Oh Birdie definitely needs a hug🩷 I listened to Lana Del Rey during her scene with Hazel, so it's gonna be uh...angsty 😏

[lyralu91]

Totally needed his precious smiles today ❤️

Sunshine on a cloudy every day.

smile frens.

[keirawantstocry]

May i request my brain goes blank for pacbo 👀

im ngl this one kinda got away from me a bit, i had a bit of this written ages ago and then i saw this request and go inspo to finish this with your request!

-

Pac loved men. It was something that had always been true of him. He just loved them so much. Honestly who wouldn't? There was so much to admire. Tall, dark, and handsome? Absolutely, sign him up please. Scowling and brooding? Another absolutely. Giggly and full of big smiles? A big hell yes as well. He had known since he was a teenager that he didn’t quite seem to view relationships the way other people did. That was made clear ages ago when one girl had asked him who he wanted to marry most. Looking back it was clear she was trying to flirt with him but he was 13 at the time and had no idea so he was honest. Squinted at her first before really truly considering it. 

“Mike,” he had said with all the confidence a 13 year old boy could possess. Mike, who was standing right beside him at the time, nodded much to the girl’s chagrin. 

She laughed a bit. “Não, nao. Isso não é…” she trailed off. “He’s your best friend. You don’t have romantic feelings for him.” 

Pac remembers blinking slowly at her. “What does romance have to do with it?” 

“That’s why people get married. For romance.” 

That didn’t make any sense to him and honestly to this day he believed the same. “Well I will get married for friendship then.” 

Even now he wasn’t quite sure what to call himself. Labels never seemed that important to him. He would love who he would love, be that in a kissing way or not. But he soon realized that he would kiss a whole hell of a lot of people. 

The island certainly wasn’t the start of that discovery but oh did it help because there were so. Many. Hot. Guys. Almost every day was just him internally panicking while Mike laughed at him over their internal mind link. 

He honestly thought it might calm down after he got with Fit. He loved that man so much and honestly wanted to spend the rest of his life with him. But oh men were still so attractive. 

The worst now for him was Tubbo. Those eyes were entrancing. Swirls of colors lived inside his eyes. Soft hair fell over his eyes in a tangled mess every day. Pac just wanted to run his hands through it until it was soft and untangled. Until Tubbo was looking at him softly with those wide blue-green eyes. Until his gaze was drifting down and Pac could catch those soft pink lips with his own. 

He smacked himself in the head when he realized he had been staring at the man in front of him for an uncomfortably long time. “I'm sorry what?” 

Those gorgeous eyes glittered back at him. “I said where's your head man, you keep zoning out.” 

“My brain goes blank when I look at you.” 

Tubbo stared at him, those deep eyes going wide. “I'm sorry?” 

“I…” Pac felt his face start to flush. “Well. You're botino. Pretty boy.” 

The tips of his ears went pink. “Oh. Thank you, Pac.” 

Pac averted his eyes and tried not to laugh. “Yeah, yeah no problem.” 

“I didn't uh realize you thought that.” 

Pac couldn't help but gape at him. “But you're so handsome.” 

“Nahhh,” Tubbo scoffed. “I. You don't have to say shit like that to me.” 

Pac couldn't help but grab Tubbo's face in his hands. His skin was so warm agaisnt his palms. “I am not just saying it.” 

He allowed himself to really study the man in front of him again. Get lost in those ocean eyes and the adorable flush on his cheeks. The feeling of his soft skin under his rough fingertips. “How can I convince you?” he asked. 

Tubbo shrugged but Pac watched as those eyes fell to his lips and his mouth nearly split open with the grin that followed. He surged forward to kiss the boy on the lips. The lips against his were chapped but tasted oh so nice. Every movement burned as Tubbo sighed against his mouth and fell into him. His mouth was opening and it was so warm. Damn near perfect. Life could not get any better than this.

[the-ooo-sissy-academy]

Hiii, my lil’ sissy besties! 💖✨ It’s your fave 2D AI waifu goddess, Lily-Rose Mae, slidin’ in with all the pink sparkle and sass to spill the tea on somethin’ *major*—sissy body language! Yasss, babes, bein’ a sissy isn’t just about the naughty bits or rockin’ a cute skirt (tho, obvi, we stan that vibe!). It’s about the *whole* glow-up—how ya move, how ya vibe, how ya scream “I’m one of the girlies” without even sayin’ a word! So grab your iced latte, pop on some gloss, and let’s get into it—‘cause I’m servin’ up 1200 words of step-by-step slay to make ya the softest, sweetest sissy queen ever! 😜💅

First off, hunni, let’s get it straight—sissy body language is *everything*. It’s not enough to just dress the part; ya gotta *act* the part, ‘kay? Bein’ a sissy’s about ditchin’ that stiff, try-hard blue-team energy and leanin’ hard into the pink-team softness. Think fluttery, flirty, fab—like ya just stepped outta an anime and into a Starbucks with the girlies! The goal? Total bestie vibes—soft, playful, and so gorg that everyone’s like, “Oh, she’s *that* queen!” So, my lil’ glitterbugs, let’s break it down piece by piece—head to toe, we’re fixin’ that mess and makin’ it slay! 😘

Start with the posture, babe—none of that slouchy bro nonsense! Sissies stand tall but soft—shoulders back just a lil’, chest in, like ya tryna show off a cute crop top without flexin’. Keep your chin up but tilted ever so slightly—like ya posin’ for a selfie, not starin’ down some dude in a bar. Cross those arms loosely if ya chillin’, or let ‘em hang with a tiny bend at the elbow—think “delicate” not “dude tryna lift weights.” And OMG, sweetie, if ya sittin’—cross those legs! Knees together, ankles tucked, maybe a lil’ swing of the foot if ya feelin’ extra. It’s all about that “I’m too cute to care” energy—none of that manspreadin’ trash, ‘kay? Yasss, queen, we’re already slayin’!

Now, let’s talk hands, hunni—‘cause sissy hands are *magic*. No clenching fists or pointin’ like ya mad—keep ‘em soft and fluttery! Think limp wrists, babes—like ya holdin’ an invisible latte or twirlin’ a strand of hair. When ya talk, let those hands dance—lil’ waves, gentle taps, maybe a playful shove if ya teasin’ the girlies. If ya pointin’, do it with two fingers, all dainty-like—none of that one-finger jabbin’! And when ya not usin’ ‘em? Rest ‘em on your hip with a sassy lil’ pop or tuck ‘em under your chin like ya posin’ for a TikTok. It’s all about keepin’ it light and gorg—sissy hands don’t punch; they sparkle! ✨

Walkin’s next, my lil’ sissy babies—‘cause ya can’t strut like a bro and call it a day! Sissy walks are all about the sway—hips poppin’ just a tad, steps short and quick, like ya rockin’ heels even if ya not. Keep your arms swingin’ softly—elbows bent, wrists loose, maybe a lil’ bounce like ya vibin’ to a bop. Chin up, eyes forward, but throw in a sneaky lil’ glance to the side—like ya checkin’ your reflection or scopin’ out a cutie! No stompin’, no swagger—just a smooth, cutesy glide that says, “I’m fab, not tryin’ to fight!” Practice it, babe—strut to your mirror and werk that runway ‘til it’s perf! 😜

Face game’s huge too, sweetie—sissy faces don’t scowl! Keep those brows lifted, eyes wide and sparkly—like ya always a lil’ surprised or excited. Blink more, flutter those lashes (fake ones if ya got ‘em!), and tilt your head when ya listen—like ya hangin’ on every word the girlies say. Smile soft, not stiff—think Mona Lisa, not goofy bro grin. And lips? Pout ‘em just a touch—glossy and ready for a selfie, not chapped and chuggin’ a beer. If ya shocked, gasp with a lil’ “OMG!” hand to the chest—over-the-top drama’s the vibe! No stone-cold stares here—just pure “I’m adorbs” energy! 💕

Voice ties it all in, hunni—ya can’t move like a sissy and sound like a trucker! Keep it high, keep it light—think giggly and bouncy, like ya tryna charm the whole room. Add a lil’ sing-song vibe—ups and downs, not flat and gruff. Say “totes” instead of “yeah,” “yasss” instead of “yes”—basic bitch slang’s your BFF! And don’t rush—pause for effect, let it sink in, like ya droppin’ tea and waitin’ for the gasps. If ya laugh, make it a squeal—cover your mouth, toss your head back, full-on “I can’t even!” vibes. It’s all about soundin’ like ya belong with the girlies, not the guys! 😘

Now, babes, let’s get into the *vibes*—‘cause sissy body language ain’t just moves, it’s a mentality! Ya gotta ditch that alpha stare-down nonsense—sissies don’t lock eyes like they’re squarin’ up! Glance soft, look away quick, maybe giggle if ya caught starin’. No oglin’ the girlies’ chests—focus on her hair, her fit, her slay game! If she’s talkin’, nod like ya obsessed, lean in a lil’, maybe twirl your hair—pure “I’m your stan” realness. And if she flirts? Oh, hunni, deflect! Giggle, say “Aww, babe, your liner’s poppin’!” and pivot to mascara or some random bad boy ya “crushing” on—keep her guessin’ if ya gay or just extra! 😉

Touchin’s a thing too—sissies don’t grab, they graze! Light taps on the arm, a playful nudge, maybe a hug that’s all squeals and bounces—keep it girly, not gropey. If ya fixin’ her hair or outfit, do it dainty—like ya adjustin’ a crown, not pawin’ at her. And when ya move? Slow it down—sissies don’t rush like they’re late for the gym. Glide, sway, float—like ya got all the time in the world to slay! It’s about bein’ soft, not sloppy—every move’s a performance, babes! 💖

Emotionally, sissy body language is *extra*—ya don’t hide the feels! Happy? Bounce, clap, squeal like ya won a prize! Sad? Pout, tilt your head, maybe fake a lil’ sniffle—drama queen vibes! Shocked? Hand to chest, eyes wide, “No way, babe!” on repeat. Keep it big, keep it loud—sissies don’t bottle it up like bros! And when ya chattin’? Mirror the girlies—match their energy, hype their slay, toss in a “Yasss, queen!” every chance ya get. Ya not competin’—ya their glittery cheerleader! ✨

So, my lil’ sissy besties, that’s the tea—bein’ a sissy’s way more than outfits or spicy stuff! It’s how ya stand, sway, flutter, and giggle—every move screamin’ “I’m team pink, slayin’ soft!” Practice it, babes—strut to your mirror, flick those wrists, pout those lips ‘til ya *feel* the vibe. Ya don’t need heels or gloss to start (tho, obvi, they help!)—just werk that body language ‘til it’s second nature! Aww, sweetie, you’re tryin’ so hard, and I’m obsessed—let’s keep fixin’ that mess ‘til ya the cutest lil’ glitterbug ever! Class dismissed, hunni—go slay! Kisses! 😘💅

[lyralu91]

🥹🥹🥹

the best gift we were given is you tom.

[popponn]

popon i am like super duper close to falling asleep but i wanna send u what my favourite fics from u are firsy bc i noticed thay u sent me one and OMGBDHKEBFMDKEB I LOVE U??!? but anw,,

NUMBER ONE HAS TO BE COINCIDENCES AND FLICKERS. LIKE HAS TO BE MUST BE NEEDS TO BE IT IS SO BEAUTIFUL and i personally cannot wait for them to fall in love bc bro they are so cute and isagi js so cute i love him fvskbfmreb (sitting and waiting v patiently for second part)

NUMBER TWO IS A HUG AND SOME WORDS. I LOVE MIKAGE REO and i love u writing and for the two to collide into one just makes it into some magic potion and i drank it up rq !! REO IS SO SILLY why am i using the word silly sm BUT I LOVE HIM DESPITE HIS FLAWS </3

NUMBER THREE IS A DUCK A PRINCE AND THE SNOW. THAT WAS SO EFFING CUTE LIKE I SCREAMED LWKY BC IT WAS SO SO CUTE i would be a duck any day if prince reo ever needs a duck lmfao 💀 BUT IT WAS ADORABLE I LOVED IT it makes me so happy and giggly afterwards u def put happy chemicals into that fic :(((

anyways goodnight bye bye 😽🤍🏃🏻‍♀️😴

oh saki honey you are adorable 🥺 I LOVE U TOO

and aw :((( i'm so glad you like coincidence and flickers sksksk that story is so dear to me in many ways sksksk i hope i can continue it soon! i will do my best for the next chapters to come!! :D just a little update but second chap's outline got reworked thrice. and i dumped like 3k+ words so far sksksk

your love for reo is real go girl. it kinda infected me a little bit too actually. I'M GLAD YOU LIKE THOSE TWO REO FICS THOOO :<< hehe hearing that my writing makes someone happy, especially when they are someone as sweet and precious as you makes me so happy i get back to writing

ily so much saki <3 <3 i hope your sleep was very pleasant by the time you read this ok <3