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luvergirl-866 · 10 days ago

Text

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

#lilah’s works #something like love #sll #pazzi #pazzi fics #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #angst #wlw #fake dating #uconn wbb #wcbb #wbb

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twistedpink · 25 days ago

Note

omg I love your writing so much🫶🫶🫶 can I request a jealous! Ace please and thank you in advance🥰🫶🫶🫶

thanks for requesting!

Ace Trappola gets jealous for no reason all the time, and he’s such a jerk about it! What, you’re looking at that ignyhide guy? I heard you’re not his type.. c’mon don’t hit him, he’s just joking!!

Jealous!Ace that monopolizes you before every test (even if neither of you know the material) just so nobody else’ll tutor you

Jealous!Ace is always pulling stuff out your bag to see what’s up with it, and he actually gets strategic! “So why’re you so attached to the keychain? He gave it to you? Kay, no wonder it’s so ugly :)” it goes missing soon after, but Ace buys you a new one a right after you tell him. You think he took it? Psh, as if!

Jealous!Ace that never leaves you alone when you go out, especially not with any strangers. He also has a history of dragging you away from Cater whenever he brings up posting about you (Ace is a professional gatekeeper)

Jealous!Ace gets clingy really quickly into your relationship, but he’s always saying to “keep it casual”,, if you’re late to any classes (that he’s not skipping) it’s a 99% chance that he’s blowing up your phone with the worst emoticons he can find (he has a google doc with a bunch of obscure websites and apps for them)

Jealous!Ace that “keeps you wanting” by waiting a couple minutes to respond whenever you message him, even if his read receipts are on and you know he’s just been waiting since you texted him + he’s insufferable when you let slip you’re hanging out with anybody, badgering you to call right away “like any good boyfriend would!!”

Jealous!Ace won’t stop calling you the scummiest nicknames because he knows it wards other guys off (“babeeee just ditch him”), but he only does it over text/call. He’s wayyyy too prideful to call you anything creative unless he’s on a possessive streak

Jealous!Ace is always trying to impress you with showy magic tricks and luck based skills,, “look! I landed the bottle!” “How about you land a 90?” (He swears you’re not funny, but we know he’s lying)

Jealous!Ace is just the type to get a little insecure (not that he’ll admit it), but he’s easy to keep happy- all the guy wants is a compliment every so often, and the ramshackle prefect is happy to provide! <33

#twst yuu #twst x reader #yuu twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #ace trappola #ace twst #aceyuu #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola x yuu #ace trappola twst

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sweetflanfiction · 2 days ago

Text

Asymetrical Symphony - Part 17

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7 • Part 8 • Part 9 • Part 10 • Part 11 • Part 12 • Part 13 • Part 14 • Part 15 • Part 16

• ··········· • ············ •

After some long minutes of silent work, Viktor placed the goggles on his forehead again and turned his face to your almost sleeping figure.

"Wake up." He threw a small piece of pink chalk at your chest.

"Is it finished?" You blinked away the sleepiness and chucked the chalk back to him.

"No... but I am cross-eyed looking at the thing." He took the goggles off his head and swiveled the bench to you. "Have you tried the new suffix I showed you?”

The night of the dinner, he had sent Jayce a note with a new symbol to add to your runes. It was disappointing that he had come himself to give you the thing, but you knew how much he hated these events.

You were certain that, in every universe imaginable, Viktor, co-creator of Hextech, would not be caught dead in a room full of Pilties unless under threat. And Jayce wasn’t about to threaten his life for a two-hour dinner, mostly because if your mother knew, she would threaten Jayce’s life in return. It was a give-and-take with these two.

“Yes, I did.” You turned on the couch so you were fully lying on it, drawing runes in the air.

“And…?” He leaned his elbows into his knees.

“I had to explain to my mother why my bedroom was in disarray after a whirlwind went through it.” You looked down at him, watching his warm eyes widen. “And then I had to explain to Voltaire why all the lights in the house went out for the whole day."

“The rune I gave you was how we… well… in simple terms… solidify the hex gem light into a laser.” He made a gesture with his hand, like a claw coming from his back. “Those results are unexpected. What runes did you speak for them?”

“The move made the whirlwind and the starlight made lightning, but—”

“Lightning?” Viktor was already opening and closing drawers, trying to find his notebook.

“Yup…and--”

“The solidified state of your move rune is a whirlwind, and the starlight is lightning. I need to write this down.” He interrupted, his words coming out as quickly as the lighting from the little marbles of light.

“I already did…but—

“Good, we should try it again in a more... secure place.” He finally found the book with a little 'aha' sound and opened it.

“I’m not going back in the broom closet.” You quickly added to his speech. “Neither of these two runes makes me comfortable in an enclosed space.”

“Understandable.” He nodded after a while of consideration.

“Anyway…what shined was the mending rune…”

“How so?”

Getting up from the couch, you walked over to his desk, intent on grabbing the closest piece of chalk on the table, but Viktor’s hand appeared, palming his pencils and pulling them away from you quickly.

You leaned your hip against his table, crossed your arms, and raised an eyebrow, your face a mask of inquiry.

“There are disposable pencils in the first drawer.” He said, motioning with his chin to the place he mentioned.

You opened the drawer, and six, somewhat new, charcoal pencils were stored. You frowned and took one out. They hadn't even been sharpened yet.

“These are brand new.” You showed him the pencil, and he nodded.

“Yes, and they are also Jayce’s…” You saw the mischievous grin on his face and shook your head.

“For your information, I was going to do this with chalk.” You broke the pencil in three places.

“That would be even worse!" He quickly placed all his writing utensils in a mug with Jayce's face on it. "Do you know how much I have to defend the use of colored chalk? I feel like I’m arguing my thesis…”

“What's with the Academy and not giving its scientists what they need to survive the grueling task of mathing?” You joked and threw him the middle part of the pencil, watching him fumbling to catch it before it hit the floor.

"Would you like to do math? Because I can play the piano. We can switch one day. See who lasts longer." He jokingly pointed to the arachnid-looking machinery.

“Are you done with the pity party?" You asked, grinning at him, and he nodded brightly.

"Yes, go ahead." He stretched his leg in front of him as he grabbed the edge of the table.

"I've also been managing to speak the rune with fewer movements every time.”

“Abbreviations of words are very common.” He looked at the ground and tilted his head. "Once you become accustomed to speaking a word, you can simply say its condensed form, and it will be understandable."

Viktor gently pushed himself along the table to roll over to where you stood, the last push a little too strong as he came bumping into your side. You grabbed his shoulder to keep both of you from falling to the floor, and he instinctively moved an arm around your waist. You looked down at him, and he up at you.

You both stood there for a while, and your hand moved closer to his neck, stroking it for a couple of seconds. He moved away and made a little laughing sound. You tilted your head to the side, raised your eyebrows, and didn't again.

"No." He moved away laughing, his hand dragging behind you, leaving a cold trail on your lower back.

And it was then you found out that this Viktor was ticklish. And that little childish detail, the way his eyes instantly filled with laughter, made you extremely happy. Viktor deserved to feel joy and happiness.

With a cough to clear your throat and get back to the present, you took the pencil and placed its pieces a little further apart than the last time, the middle part that you had discarded, missing. As you spoke the rune, you added the sustain and solidify symbols at the end.

The tendrils came out of the rune and found the intended target, touching the two parts of the rough snapped wood and then solidifying around it until it had the consistency of a paste. After a second the paste started to grow, the tendrils now coming out like gravity-defying candle wax from both sides. They met in the middle, forming a bridge of a blue, slimy material. Once the missing part of the pencil was filled, the paste started to harden, becoming a blue, shimmery shape that connected and glued both parts together.

“It connects what's missing now.” You whispered, trying not to startle the enthralled scientist.

Viktor grabbed the pencil and looked it over from every angle against the light, even tapping on it with his nail. It was slightly translucent, and the noise resembled knocking on a piece of thick glass. He wrote with it, and it worked as it should.

“It is a solid shape, yes, but I believe it’s not a replica of the pencil.” He said, chewing the inside of his mouth. His eyes lifted for a moment, and he went to grab his crutch.

Autumn was around the corner, and the temperature change made his bones and muscles ache. He had told you when you widened your eyes at his crutch and leg brace that when the cold seasons come, he uses them more often to help him. You didn't need to touch his back to know the back brace was there too.

The Viktor in your dimension had the same problem in his better days. Any weather change would bring his pain level up. He once told you it felt like his bones were grinding on his other and that his muscles were made of fire. It didn’t stop him from coming to the lab.

It didn’t seem to stop either of them.

You hadn’t questioned him using the brace on the hex leg, but you’d assume it would help stabilize it and even out its weight.

You were snapped out of memory lane when Viktor sat back down with a ‘humph’ on the stool. He quickly grabbed the screwdriver and started to separate the top side of the crutch from the bottom. In between them, there was a small mechanism. He grabbed that and showed it to you.

“This makes me able to readjust the height of the crutch. This spring makes this pin go into that hole and makes the crutch adjustment secure.” He told you and waited for a confirmation that you understood.

“Alright.” You nodded, confused, your eyes shifting from his to what was in his hand.

He took the spring out, and it left a space in the mechanism.

“Fix it.” He told you and gave you the broken thing.

Without questioning him, you made the rune and waited. The gooey magic substance attached to where you saw the spring start and where it ended, but it didn’t make the shape of the spring. It just connected those two pieces the same way it connected the pencil: with a solid blue cylindrical shape.

"Sorry." You told him, afraid you had broken his walking aid, but he shook his head.

“Interesting…” He grabbed a small hammer he had on his table and hit the new blue piece softly. “It creates new forms but not specific ones.”

“I just learned to speak it. Maybe it comes with practice.” He hit it again with a bit more force, and it broke. "It would be good to be able to actually create new forms."

Viktor nodded as he grabbed the old spring and set it again in its rightful place. He redid the aid, tried it a couple of times, and after he was satisfied, kept it between his knees, leaning his chin and his hands on the middle handle.

“I may be able to help you with that.” The scientist smiled and got up from the table, his leg brace whining at the movement. He went over to the hex core storage and came back with a small thing in his hand.

“It’s a panel with a missing gear.” He limped back towards you and threw himself on the couch, motioning for you to do the same.

You did, your knees touching as he showed you what he had in his hand. It was a small copper panel with two gears on each side, an empty spot in the middle, and a switch. He touched the switch, and one gear moved, but without the middle one, the last kept still. He stopped off the switch and moved his hand, a gear appearing between his fingers.

“The shape.” He turned the loose gear over to you and pointed a finger at the panel. “The place."

Understanding what he meant, you nodded and grabbed the panel gently, turning it over in your hands.

“Yes, Professor.” You noticed his hand squeeze the gear quickly and then let go. You looked up at him and watched as his usually caring golden eyes turned into something fiery, like hot coals in a fireplace. You saw his gaze quickly shift downwards to your mouth and then up, and as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Hum... Good luck." He awkwardly got up from the couch and sat back down on his stool, quickly grabbing his goggles and placing them over his eyes.

There was a heat behind his eyes. A small flash from your dimension told you exactly what it meant. There were some things Viktor would enjoy, and when he threw those glances at you, you could pinpoint what they were. It would mostly end up in something that both enjoyed.

But your Viktor had been stubborn, and although you knew his feelings for you matched your feelings for him, there was always that little ‘I am dying’ detail that, no matter how much you told him you didn’t care, he didn’t forget. And you didn’t—couldn’t—blame him.

In the end, the only thing you could do was respect that.

You stayed in the lab with Viktor, trying to make a little gear out of the goo. You’d managed to make some shape out of it, but the gear was proving a little too difficult, and you could feel the tingle in your hand fade as you kept using it.

At some point, Jayce had joined in on the two of you, mumbling something about the council and their demands. Viktor had looked at him and simply passed him another part of ‘The Reader.’.

For a few hours, you forgot this wasn’t where you belonged. These weren’t your old friends. For a few hours, this was just a normal day of yours. After leaving the orchestra, you’d come by and idly sit by them, listening to them tinkering and reading a book about whatever subject you felt like. Sometimes you’d bring a guitar or some of your father’s records.

You felt the couch sink next to you, and you tucked your socked feet under the leg of whoever had sat down, your back leaning into the arm of the couch. It was muscle memory. It wouldn’t be strange for Jayce to lean against you when he sat; his big shoulders and torso were most likely to be used as a pillow, or for Viktor to place his legs on your lap gently, the pain becoming bearable when he stretched his muscles after being sat all day.

“Oh!”

Immediately you looked up and saw it was Viktor who had sat down, and clumsily you moved your feet away. Only to be stopped by a hand on your knee, a tired smile on his lips.

“There is no need to move.”

He moved his leg, so you could place your feet back where they were under his thigh, and then he rested his arm on your knees. Viktor leaned his back and shoulders against the couch, his neck stretching back and his long legs sprawled on the floor.

For a while, the only thing heard through the lab was Jayce’s angrily muttering against whatever he was welding. Whatever the council had asked him, he was not happy to comply.

“How is your gear making?” Viktor asked, turning his neck to look at you.

The board now was not as pristine as it had been. There were small pieces of crystal that you could get detached with the small hammer Viktor had provided. The best shape you could make was a splatter sort of circle, connecting the dents of the two other gears.

“Well, good news, bad news. Which one do you want first?” He showed you two fingers in the hand that had wrapped around your knees, indicating the second choice. “I don’t think this rune is made for creating shapes.”

“I was thinking as much. But I was hopeful it could take different paths to mend things.” You gave him the board, and he grabbed it, turning it around near his face and inspecting the blue goo on it. “The good news?”

“I can abbreviate the rune.” You smiled when he looked at you, eyebrows raised, impressed and proud.

The sound of a metal tool falling to the ground, followed by a curse, was heard on the other side of the room, and at the same time, a knock on the door.

Viktor groaned and clumsily got up, using the arm of the couch, your knees, and then the table to get himself upright while you sat up to a less comfortable position.

You quickly hid the small powdery leftovers of your tests and placed the glove on your hand. Even though it wasn’t as bright as before, it was still glowing.

Jayce grumbled as he got up to open the door.

“Hello,” the bright young voice of Sky echoed in the lab. “The council has given me some more project briefings…”

“Great…” Jayce threw whatever tool he had picked up from the floor on his part of the table. Sky flinched at the sound.

“Thank you, Miss Young.” Viktor grabbed his crutch and limped towards her, trying to appease the girl. “Is there anything else?”

“Hum…yeah…yes…” She looked at Viktor and smiled. “The council wants them reviewed right now.”

Jayce turned to look at Sky and was about to open his mouth to contest, but Viktor took several quick strides towards the woman while throwing Jayce a look you couldn’t see but that shut him up.

“Thank you. You can wait here if you want.” He pointed to the couch you were sitting at, and you gave her a quick wave.

“We’ll give them back as quickly as we can.”

She looked confused for a while when she saw you there but quickly gave you a quick smile and nodded at Viktor.

He looked back to watch her make her way to you and then smiled softly when your eyes met.

“Hello.” Sky said, sitting down next to you, her hands on her knees. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here after your appointment.”

“Hi!" You shrugged and rolled your eyes in an exasperated manner. "The gadget didn’t work properly, and Viktor is making some adjustments as he goes. Saves me the trips and the rescheduling.”

“Ah…yes…makes sense. More efficient that way. It's strange to have to add a planner to the multitude of other things we have to keep in check.” She pushed her glasses up and smiled, her expression showing her distaste for the added unnecessary work. “Oh, congratulations on the orchestra seat.”

“How…?”It took you by surprise that she knew about this since it only happened two days ago.

“Oh…My father works at the printing house, and the orchestra is doing the flyers and posters for this season. I saw your name on the roster.”

“Ah! It’s your father…of course.” In your world, her sister worked in the printing house. “The first winter show is right around the corner. Are you going to go?”

She looked at her hands and shook her hand.

“The tickets for the season's first shows are always too expensive. We’ll probably go later in the season.”

“Let me rephrase that…” you grinned at the girl. Much like any other person you’d met in this timeline, some of their traits and likes probably still happened to their counterparts here. And you knew Sky enjoyed music. You had invited her several times to watch the orchestra rehearse in your time. It was a free concert for her, and it was worth it to see her just ramble about it afterwards. “Would you like to go to the first show of the season?”

Her eyes brightened up, and you smiled, but her elation stopped short, and she shook her head, sighing.

“There’s no need for you to trouble yourself.” She smiled sadly.

“It’s no trouble. I have 2 seats always reserved in my name. It’s a thing they do to their musicians. My mother and Willah have their box; these two have the Academy’s ticket and will likely be invited. I don’t mind giving you the seats; you can take whoever you want…maybe your sister could come…” Her face lit up again as you realized what you just said and quickly corrected. “If you have sisters…maybe a date…I don’t know…”

“Yes, my sister would love to go. Maybe my mother…I’ll ask…” She adjusted her glasses. “Are you sure? I truly don’t want to impose.”

“It’s no imposition or trouble. I would rather you have them than for them to be empty.”

“Thank you! You’ll be at the piano, right?”

You nodded, and the conversation rolled out easily. Talking about music and compositions and favorites. Sky had always been easy to talk to. She was a genuinely nice person. Had a huge crush on Viktor, which you teased him about, but unfortunately for her, the feelings he had for her didn’t reach those heights. When he became the Herald, he told you she lived in the astral world, always there in the core helping him navigate his new circumstances. He told you she was a friend; you knew she was his guilt.

A high-pitched sound was heard from somewhere in the lab, and both you and Sky looked at each other in silent confusion. It sounded like a kettle ready to boil over.

“Do you hear that?” She asked, looking around, and you nodded, looking around yourself.

She got up from the couch and took a step forward towards the two men sitting at the end of the table. The noise grew louder.

“Vik…” Sky started but was interrupted by a small explosion and three wheezing sounds coming from Jayce’s work table.

You ducked your head as three bolts carved themselves like bullets on the wall behind you. Viktor called your name, and Jayce ran to his station, turning off his still-working welder. You, however, were watching as three red stains appeared on Sky’s uniform.

You rushed forward as she fell to her knees, grabbing her just in time for her head not to hit the ground. She groaned and touched her hand in the three small holes in her abdomen.

“No, no, no.” You chanted, grabbing the blanket from the couch and putting pressure on her wounds. “Get someone!”

Viktor limped his way to both of you and awkwardly plopped down on the floor, the brace on his leg making it difficult for him to sit down.

“Jayce! Get the enforcers we need to get her to the hospital.” Viktor shouted back as well, and you heard Jayce’s footsteps hit the ground running.

“Ouch,” Sky winced weakly, looking down at herself. “I hate blood.”

“We all do, dear.” You placed a bloody hand on her forehead. “You got to breathe and be calm. Help is coming.”

She nodded, and you looked at Viktor, a bloody pool starting to form at his knees. Both your hands were now holding the thick blanket to her midsection. You kept checking her breathing and making sure she was conscious, but the minutes seemed like hours.

In a moment of silence, you heard the sound of a crackling fire, an orange light shining above you. Craning your neck up, you saw the ceiling crack and move apart. Not like the glass shattering, but a slow movement as the ceiling pieces moved away. The crackling sound mixed with a slow bubbling of liquid. It reminded you of when your mother would boil caramel and condensed milk for her dessert.

The mix of sounds and the slow movement of the cement was mesmerizing. Then a drop of a bright, hot, sizzling orange substance fell right into your gloved hand. For a moment you thought it would burn the leather away, but it simply got absorbed. It looked like a pebble hitting water, making small rounded waves. Before another drop fell, you quickly ripped the glove from your hand and caught the orange drip. Same effect, but before the little waves stopped, a bead of bright blue shot up to the ceiling.

In the distance, you heard Viktor call your name, but you were far more interested in the liquid within the cracks going from red to blue.

You saw more tears of blue hit the ceiling as the sound of bubbling and crackling grew louder in your ears. Every time a drop landed, the cracks moved in a different direction. When it stopped, you saw a rune. A new rune.

Unlike the purple one, this one also had an urgency but not a devouring need to be spoken. It was more than the hunger to use it; it was the urgency of the situation. Like the arcane was telling you to trust it. It was still strange to have this outer pull to do something. The other runes didn’t have it.

The whole rune appeared, and you blinked, searing it into your memory. And when… whatever it was… knew you were gonna trust it, the world spun.

Your glowing hand was almost out, but it still had a bit of magic left, and it moved on its own. Speaking this rune was unlike any other; there was no intention, no need to flick it. You spoke it, and your hand snapped to the blanket. With a swift movement, you pushed the blanket away, blood gushing out of the wounds.

You, or better, whatever was moving you, turned your head to the wall in front of you, staring at the three little dots on the wall like there was nothing else more interesting in the world.

Your body worked on its own accord like you had felt in the council room when you wrote the runes on the ground. Sky’s blood felt warm against your hand for a few seconds, until you felt that same warmth drag up from your hand to your elbow, to your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Viktor half shouted, his bloody hand grabbing your forearm, but when your gaze snapped to him, he quieted down with a gasp.

You wanted to watch it happen, but whatever will you had to move had been sucked out, and you found yourself staring unemotionally at your friends' worried golden orbs.

You felt a warmth go up your arm, into your clothed shoulder, as it traveled down your torso until it reached the mirrored spot Sky was hurt.

And then the warm feeling became a searing, white burning pain.

You’ve been punched in the gut several times. By Vi, by an array of Noxus soldiers. Even by a beautiful white and gold construct, that one hurt more feelings than flesh. It wasn’t pleasant; it made the air inside your body come out in a huff. It was painful, but it wasn’t this.

This was like someone took a hot knife and was carving something into your flesh. You could almost smell the burned skin.

Viktor shouted your name, but there was nothing you could do to snap out of whatever trance that rune got you into. You wanted to scream in pain; you wanted to ask for help, but nothing came out. You kept your eyes focused on your friend at his concerned gaze, trying to convey the pain you were feeling, but you weren't sure he understood it. You didn’t feel any muscle on your face move, and for a moment you panicked.

Was this what the hex angels felt whenever Viktor took command of their bodies? Was this it? This lack of control over your body as your mind screamed in pain?

You felt your body fall to the ground with a thud, your heartbeat quickly drumming in your ears. You heard Viktor shuffling to your side, but the world was quickly becoming black. As your vision faded, you saw Sky's teary eyes blink as life crept back into her.

• ··········· • ············ •

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thef1diary · 1 year ago

Text

Want You | M. Verstappen

Summary: It should feel so wrong to want him, especially when you're in a happy relationship, but you can't stop your thoughts from controlling your actions.

Warnings: 18+, reader is cheating on her current bf, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), filthy words, angst (not with Max), google translated Dutch.

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: max x fem!reader

This time, he was the one who reached out. But it's become a habit, so it didn't really matter who actually texted the other first. Though, it was nice to know that he was also thinking about you.

Your boyfriend was out of town, so this was a lot easier. Easier to convince yourself that what you were doing isn't bad. But, deep down, you know it is.

You didn't have to sneak out or make excuses that you were seeing a friend. Taking your time getting dressed, you smiled at your reflection in the mirror. At least, he could recognize your beauty and praise you for it. You absolutely loved how he praised you while fucking you into oblivion.

You decided to wear a navy blue lingerie, showing off your body that Max clearly loved. Since you cannot wear that outside, you'd have to cover it up with a coat and boots.

If you were asked a few months ago, you would say that you're happy in your current relationship. But, even though you haven't admitted it yet, you know that you're not. There's no other reason why you keep ending up in his arms over and over again.

Forgetting about your boyfriend for tonight, you made your way to the location you knew way too well. To your ex's house—Max's house.

Parking right in front of his house, you sent him a text that you reached. Then, you briefly glanced at the other messages you had to pass some time. That's when you noticed the text from your boyfriend. He simply told you about his stressful day filled with meetings, then asked about yours.

It seemed like a normal conversation between a couple but it wasn't. He never asked about your day or your plans, unless it concerned him. You two fell out of love as fast as you fell in love.

His text caused you to spiral into the pit of guilt. You shouldn't be here, sleeping with another man while your boyfriend was working away. That's another thing you started disliking about him, the amount of workload he started taking on. It was like he wanted to be away from you, and maybe that was a good thing because of the arguments you two keep having.

Ignoring the text messages, you put your phone away. Taking another look in the mirror, you applied another coat of lipstick that you knew he loved, then got out of the car with a slight smirk on your face. It was not your fault that you were here, it was your boyfriend's fault that he couldn't keep you happy.

You noticed how the porch light turned on and he walked out, probably concerned why it took you a while to come inside. After all, you didn't have to text him, you could walk right in his house like you owned it. Because, once you did and he never wanted to take that away. The time and circumstances did.

He stood by the door, watching you with darkened eyes as you walked towards him. He wrapped one arm around your waist while the other hand caressed your cheek before placing his lips on yours.

Max's house was in a slightly secluded area and it was getting dark too, so you weren't worried about someone seeing you. You let yourself get lost in his touch, melting against his lips.

"Hi" you whispered when you parted away from him. He might've been smirking before, but now he was genuinely smiling. His hands caressed your body, pulling you as close as possible. "It didn't take a lot of convincing this time." He stated while placing light kisses down your neck.

Usually whenever he calls you over, it takes you a while to agree because you'd have to be careful of your current lover. Lying was something you were never good at, but practice makes perfect.

"Didn't want to be alone tonight." You muttered while holding back a moan. It had been one week since you were in his arms, and that entire week was spent in agony because you didn't sleep with your boyfriend either. More like he didn't want to.

Max faced you again, a devilish smile on his face, "alone?" He asked even though he knew the answer. "He's working, out of town" you simply replied before moving Max out of the way and walking inside. After all, it was getting cold and you didn't like the mention of your boyfriend while you were with Max.

He followed you inside, removing your coat for you and seeing what you had on underneath. "Fucking hell, is that all for me?" He groaned when he saw the blue lingerie you specifically wore for him. "Who else?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Damn right, no one else." He couldn't keep eye contact with you because his gaze was admiring your beauty, and soon he would show you just how much.

You bent down to remove your boots but Max stopped you. He kneeled down, placing your heeled boot on his thigh before slowly unzipping it. He did the same for the other foot, but his hands started roaming around, trailing up your leg.

He placed light kisses trailing up your leg before standing to his full height and capturing your lips with his. Your hair was tied up in a ponytail, but while Max kissed you, his hand wandered up in your hair and removed the hair tie.

"I've had so long to think about what I want to do to you." He muttered in your ear when you parted. "An entire week, always on my mind."

"Should I apologize for that?" You teased, earning a glare in return. "I was thinking of you while racing, so yes, apologize for distracting me."

"I don't think it was that big of an issue, after all, you won." You reminded him of his latest victory. He shrugged, "but you weren't there."

You rolled your eyes at his words. He has told you how much he wants you to be by his side in the paddock, but you can't. Not anymore. "We're not dating, Max"

"I think it's time to make you forget about that, liefje." He simply said before he picked you up and took you to his bedroom.

Placing you on the bed, he spread your legs before sliding up between them to kiss you. God he loved kissing you. Your hand trailed down to the hem of his shirt, pulling it up. He parted away from you to remove his top completely, then began placing wet kisses down your neck.

You arched your back, bringing yourself closer to him as he easily found the sweet spot behind your ear that made you moan sweetly. Even if you weren't together anymore, Max remembered every sweet spot of your body, and he was using that knowledge to his advantage tonight.

His goal was to make you forget about your boyfriend. And so far, it was working.

"As much as I love this, it has to go" he commented while looking at your lingerie. You sat up a bit so you could unclasp your bra, but before you could reach you hand around, his had already found the clasp.

"Laat mij voor je zorgen, schat." [let me take care of you] You didn't know what he said, but you absolutely loved it when he spoke in his mother tongue. You tried learning Dutch, but it was definitely a harder language to learn, plus Max wasn't the best teacher because he'd distract you often.

You let him remove your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. Then, he licked his lips before leaning closer to you and pressing a light kiss on your chest. His tongue peeking out to tease your nipple, making it hard by blowing cool air on it.

"Max" you moaned his name, itching for him to touch you properly. "You want me?" He asked like he didn't know the answer. "Yes!" You exclaimed, making him chuckle. "I'm all yours."

He moved further down your body, trailing kisses across your stomach before reaching the waistband of your panties. He didn't remove it yet, no, he was going to tease you as much as he could. Sliding his thumb to rest on your clothed clit, he put a little pressure and started rubbing slowly. "Barely even touched you and so wet already."

You groaned, just wanting him to do something, anything. "Max, please" you begged and that sound was like music to his ears. "I know, I told you, I'll take care of you. Just be a little patient."

Removing his thumb, he moved your panties to the side, finally seeing your glistening pussy waiting for his touch. He licked his thumb before placing it directly on your clit. Sliding it down, he separated your folds and spread your wetness all around. His face was so close that you could feel his hot breath.

He moved his thumb once again but before you could complain, he spread your folds apart with two fingers before placing his tongue on you, licking deeply. "Fuck" you gasped. His movements were licking and kissing your sweet pussy, getting you prepared for his cock. He muttered your name, "you taste so sweet"

You arched you back again when you felt Max slowing down, but his arm was resting on your stomach; the weight holding you in place. Then, you felt his tongue delve deeper in your hole, just enough to make you squirm but far from bringing you over the edge. He did that a few times before using his thumb to circle your clit again. Your mind was hazy due to the constant pleasure, and you didn't even notice when he moved his arm away from your stomach and entered two fingers in the hole he was teasing with his tongue earlier.

Bending his fingers just the right way caused you to let out a loud moan because you did not expect him to take it up a notch. Replacing his thumb with his tongue on your clit, he enveloped it in between his lips. "Max, make me cum. Make me cum on your fucking tongue." You more so instructed than pleaded but he happily obliged.

Increasing the intensity, he flicked your clit with his tongue over and over again while pumping his fingers faster, adding a third one as well. Since he wasn't holding you down anymore, your back arched as he brought you closer to the brink of an orgasm. One of your hands fisted the bedsheet underneath you while the other made its way into Max's hair.

His hair was the perfect length to pull on, using that as an advantage to bring him even closer to your sweet pussy. You tried looking at him but once the pleasure became too much to bear, your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you were sent over the edge.

Max slowed down but he was still lapping up your cum, moaning at the taste. Your hand left his hair and he pressed one more kiss on your clit before looking up at you. That was a beautiful sight. His hair messed up, his lips a darker shade, and your cum glistening around his mouth. And you didn't miss the way his eyes were still dark but shining now.

"What are you waiting for, come up here" Your voice was a little rough because you spent the last few minutes before your orgasm moaning nonstop. Max stood up, hands unbuttoning his jeans while he made direct eye contact with you. Then his gaze travelled lower, looking at you all spread out for him. When you realized that, you blushed feverishly and moved to close your legs.

"Don't. I wanna see all of you" He instructed and you had no choice but to listen. He slid in between your legs then kissed you again, letting you taste your own cum as his tongue was granted access to your mouth.

His own pleasure wasn't something he was after, instead, he loved trailing kisses down your body. Letting him express his love for you. But that was a conversation for another day.

Your small bubble of joy popped when you heard the familiar sound of your ringtone. You had an idea of who could possibly be calling you right now, and you didn't like it. max saw your expression turn sour after hearing your phone ring, knowing exactly who it was. "What do you say, let me pick it up and end it once and for all?"

You turned your head to face him, "no, let me handle it." You moved off the bed despite Max's pleads otherwise. You already had a missed call from him, and you knew how much he hated it when he could call and you wouldn't pick up.

"Where are you?" was how you were greeted. "oh I'm doing great thanks, and you?" your tone was laced with sarcasm but he didn't like it one bit. "cut the bullshit, where are you?"

"Where else would I be, I'm at ho-" you began telling your lie but he cut you off, "are you really at home? because I'm standing in our bedroom right now so you are clearly not at home."

"shit" you mouthed and Max saw your expression and raised his eyebrow in question because he couldn't hear the other side of the conversation. Your attention was brought back to the phone call once you heard your boyfriend call your name, "it is almost midnight, where the fuck are you?"

"Why are you home?" you countered, avoiding the answer to his question because you needed time to think of a lie. He was the type of boyfriend to call your friends and ask if you were with them, so you couldn't even lie about that. Plus, they didn't know about your relationship with your ex. Max knew exactly what was going on when you said those words. Then, you put the phone on speaker so he could hear your boyfriend's next words.

"I thought that I would surprise you, but you are not even here to greet me. Can't even do anything good for you nowadays." his words angered you but you knew how to keep calm in these moments, Max on the other hand did not.

"Maybe if you cared about her and loved her more, then she wouldn't be with me right now." Max spoke out loud, surprising both you and your boyfriend. "Is that Max fucking Verstappen? You better not be fucking him."

"Well I was about to but you called, so if you're done then hang the fuck up." You don't know what overcame you to say that but you did know that you were tired of it all. "You're cheating on me?" he asked incredulously. "This is not how I wanted to tell you this, but I'm not in love with you anymore. We're done."

"No, this is the right time because I found someone else, but I didn't go around your back to fuck someone else while we were still in a relationship." He insulted you but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. "Well then I wish you well. I'll come by to pick up my stuff later." then you hung up before he could get another word in.

There was a moment of silence before you looked at Max. "Does that mean you can stay the night?" he asked, making you forget about all your worries for now. "Yes, I'm staying" you replied which made a smile grow on his face. "Good, because I still plan on fucking you until the only word you can say is my name."

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