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shaisuki · 1 month ago

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THE SNOWFLAKES ON YOUR SHOULDER

Zayne's an expert for fixing things including heart related problems and yours wasn't an exception. He can take apart your heart and fill the holes of your once shattered heart but can he really do it? When it is you who's refusing him now?

❆ ₊⋆ ──── notes. thank you for sticking until the end. i apologize in advanced for where this fic is going. if you can tell, i'm dumb af in everything and it does not exclude my own writing.

❆ ₊⋆ ──── taglist. @fandomenbylover @vurelliex @hi-itsmee28 @mentaltrouble2201 @agustdxjiminx @aboobie @samoankpoper21 @sylusgirlie7 @crazy-ink-artist @twilightsmissingfur @traumaramacenter @zeskyzed @lucifers-silhouette @milkmily @sillyfreakfanparty @babygirlarchives @what-is-this-fangirl-life @furinaaa1

❆ ₊⋆ ──── content warnings. heavy angst + description of injuries + car accident + blood + hospitalization + medical inaccuracies + implied noncon/dubcon + arguments + stalking + possessiveness + sabotage + grave injuries + jealousy + arranged marriage + lots of crying + ooc zayne + yandere themes + lots of grammatical errors + rushed ending.

READ PART ONE HERE. PART THREE.

It was a drunk driver.

The collision caused by someone behind the wheel under the influence of alcohol. Multiple witnesses stated that it was swerving side by side. Hitting the concrete barriers before occupying the next lane where misfortune is bestowed upon you. The car drifted before crashing into your car. You didn't have the time to avoid it for your mind merely registered what was happening — struggling to grasp your situation before you can hit the brakes.

Zayne was about to clock out for the night. Petrichor lingered in the moist earth and along with it, comes the night breeze caressing his skin. Then, he hears the familiar wail of the ambulance. The blue and red light dances in his vision as the vehicle approached — the sound of multiple footsteps echoed in the once silent medical bay.

Although Zayne was familiar with the emergencies running in and out of the hospital — there's the undeniable twist in his stomach. The wind colder and shifts into something more sinister like there was a disaster to struck and that's when the paramedics came rolling the gurney. It was you.

The surgeon wouldn't mistake it as someone else's even it was a glimpse, there was no denying it was you.

Zayne moved before his mind can think. There was no hesitation in his movements. A thousand assessments running in his mind, expecting all the possibilities and how to save you. Forgetting for a moment that a doctor isn't allowed to make diagnosis nor operate to a patient when it's their loved ones or someone they're closed to.

The reputation he even held at the moment of having accomplished multiple medical breakthroughs didn't allow him to get to you. Greyson whirring past from him as he joined the others.

For the first time Zayne have never felt so scared in his whole life, not even the time when he lost control of his Evol. Helplessly watching you disappear between the double doors and to plunge into unknown. No assurance of what to come. He sees you on his mind. It wasn't the angry tears streaming down your face that you desperately wiped that keep repeatedly playing on his mind — it was you drowning in your own blood.

He didn't even notice the crystalline layer of ice creeping up on his arms and to his shoulders. Blooming like flowers in his neck and covering his cheek.

SURGERY IN PROGRESS — AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

It's been hours and long surgery hours means the trauma ranges from severe to grave circumstances. It wasn't his first gig to tell how worst a injury is. It was the results and results is the only thing that mattered to him.

Patience was Zayne's strong suits but from how the clock ticks by, every second and minute passing by and the coldness circulating in the ward — he was slowly losing it.

Greyson emerged within moments later. Surprised at him lingering outside the operating room.

“Dr. Zayne.” Greyson paused in greeting. His nerves settling in at the man in front of him before clearing his throat. He knows Zayne didn't want the unnecessary thoughts or what. He simply wanted to know the details.

“She's stable for now....” Greyson drawls out, trying to discern Zayne's reaction but was meet with the same stoic reaction. However the green in his eyes seems to darken and Greyson suddenly feels uncomfortable. “The injuries she sustained were beyond what we hoped to repair.” The spectacled brunette continued.

“The impact were severe and we were informed that the airbag of her car didn't deploy during the impact. She took the full force of the crash — multiple rib fractures caused internal bleeding we have to intervene before it got worst.”

Greyson paused again. His words dying out before coming out again. He feels like an intern again being poked out like a laboratory specimen under Zayne's cold gaze.

“The next hours will be critical for her, Dr. Zayne. She will be monitored closely and we will see how her condition progress.” That's all Greyson needed to say before leaving. He glances behind him. Dr. Zayne was really capable of showing stronger emotions. Greyson pondered while he walked. All the years he worked being an assistant to Zayne — is the first for seeing him like that. He's capable but to those who manage and it wasn't you.

Perhaps it was guilt that ate him up and Greyson couldn't care less about it. It wasn't his place to judge someone, not to Dr. Zayne.

Zayne made his way towards your room before going to his usual rounds with the other patients. His footsteps echoing in the quiet ward. It was barely morning when he came. A few hours reduced in his sleep when his nightmares consists of you — behind the steering wheel.

“You wanted this.”

He hears you say in his dreams. Blood bubbling up in your throat and the corners of your mouth trickles with the crimson liquid as you cough up more of your blood. Staring at him with your eyes slowly being drained of life. Your body riddled with cuts and your blood flowing from your arms as it drips in the concrete road. You drowning in your own pool of blood.

It was two days before the accident after your outburst. He was disconcerted after that when his gaze meets the cold hard door that you slammed shut. He never seen you so hurt before or he got used to you being silent and having to bear the burdens of him brushing you aside.

He was selfish. Taking you for granted and failing how you slowly turned miserable in this arrangement. He knows no love would bloom in this agreement for his heart belonged to someone else before he knew it and you knew it too.

In your own little ways you loved him without realizing and it destroyed you in the end.

The door slides automatically. Zayne had gotten used to the smell of disinfectants and clean linen in rooms but the never the sight of you laying still in the bed. Dead to the world outside. You would hate to see him being in the same room.

The room's dim and cold. Curtains shut cause it was needed for patients like you.

He checked your vital signs. Stable but never awake. Zayne thinks you're floating in your consciousness without planning to wake up cause he was with you. Waiting and watching. But how could you wake up when within a few hours of the surgery the night you were brought in. A bleeding in your brain was found causing seizures.

His colleagues have said that it was a miracle that you pulled through. Operations after operations was done and if you were weaker — you would have died before the next complications start.

The soft beeping of the monitors can be heard along with the air conditioner.

The cardiac surgeon pulled a chair nearby. He takes the sight of you. Bandages were wrapped around your head and there's more under your clothing. A few thin cuts in your face that was starting to heal. There's a jagged wound in your arm too. A glass shard was embedded inside upon impact. The bruises in your body were darker already entering the stages of healing.

It's already been a week now. His gaze soft towards you. He places his hand above yours. Clasping it gently and letting the warmth of your hand seep in the coldness of his own. Zayne looks back at you again and his hand holding yours. It's been long since he held it.

Should he have held your hands more? Should he assured you of what little security you needed with him? Or gave you the attention that you deserved?

None of it mattered. There's no use of pondering things that he should have done to you and for you to end up hurt by the consequences of his own shortcomings.

Zayne glances at the clock. It's time for his daily rounds with the other patients. He caresses your hand again before letting go. Adjusting the pillows for you to lay comfortably and gazes at you one last time before going out.

You woke up a month later.

It feels like you were in a deep sleep and to be awoken so suddenly. You squint your eyes for a few times. Slowly registering your surroundings. It was surreal. Weren't you just driving moments ago? And why can't you breath?

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as you desperately claw the tubes connected to you. Ripping the IV line in process that your arm began to bleed out. It only stopped when multiple hands came to hold on you. Nurses rushing to your side as the alarm blares from you yanking the tubes.

It was so sudden. You were scared and confused before the pain settles and burns the entirety of your body. Everyone was a blur to you and the lights blinded you.

That was a few days ago. You've gone multiple tests to check your recovery. Aside from the few broken bones. A risk of possible seizures that was assuredly ruled out. The latest technology for medicine have worked for you minus the coma that your brain have to do. You were healing nicely.

Zayne have made his appearance after you woke up. Staying by your side and barely left you. He takes your hand in his when you wanted to walk. Assisting you in your bathroom breaks and far as going to clean you up.

“A nurse should be doing this, right?” Zayne remains emotionless. His coat draped in one of the chairs and his sleeves are rolled while he gently wiped your skin. You were still in the midst of recovery. “Yes, it's theirs but as a doctor our duty doesn't limit on surgery and medical advices.” Your lips form into a tight line while you stare at him.

Your brain may have jumbled and bleed but you still remember the night where you poured all those bottled feelings to him and it still hurts. You wished you've gone what most comatose patients undergo through after waking up is that having their memories temporarily wiped or maybe completely.

Ignorance is bliss. That's what you lived for and you're about to abide by it — again.

Zayne noticed the tears pooling at the corner of your eyes. He puts the damp cloth aside. Examining your face for any signs of discomfort. “Are you feeling any pain?” He asks softly and you shaked your head. “Just tired.”

I'm so tired of you. Of us.

It feels you were back to square one again. This time your tolerance for pain must upped cause it doesn't hurt anymore than it used to aside from the pain of your wounds healing. “I want to be left alone.” You mutter. Pushing yourself to the bed and propping against the pillow. Zayne pulls your blanket to cover you. He longingly stares at you and nods.

“You can call me anytime you want.”

You just closed your eyes and pretended you didn't hear him.

After a week of multiple scans, therapy and rehab, you were discharged. A follow up check-up were needed. You didn't care about it. All you can think is you're out from the hospital and you won't be seeing Zayne again or you hope so.

“I can take myself home.” You protested. Standing outside of Akso Hospital waiting for a taxi, Zayne beat you to it. His white coat long abandoned and was replaced by a darker one. You assumed he was just taking you outside until you see his familiar black Audi A6.

He didn't leave room for any arguments as he placed your bag in the backseat. He's assisting you even being seated in his car. Zayne hears you huff and see your round cheeks puffed up. You weren't good at hiding your frustrations. He paid it no mind before starting the engine of his car and he drives you home.

The car came to a stop outside of the black familiar gates. You raised a brow at him. “Do you need to pick something from your house?” You fiddle at your seatbelt. Zayne gave you a curt answer. “No.” Opening the door of his car, he turns around to open yours.

“What do you mean?”

“You are still recovering. A bed rest is needed for you to recuperate fast.”

Your brows scrunched up. “Then I can do that at my home. I don't want to be here.” Zayne ducks towards you, a click can be heard as he pulled the seatbelt. He shakes his head, unconvinced.

“Multiple rib fractures, a brain that is still at risk for developing future seizures. You need a professional to be with you and I'm more than capable of taking care of you. It's also beneficial for us to live under the same roof since we're about to be wed.” He say without stopping. Stating the pros and cons on what about to come and clearly, you didn't have a choice.

The last part made you snort. Bubbling in your throat before studying his expression that remains the same.

“Wed? You're going to torture yourself and me by continuing that? Come on, Zayne. It's not too late for us to end this. We'll have our separate ways and you will get your happy ending. Don't always try to play the thoughtful son. I'm sure daddy and mommy will understand you and so are mine.” You sighed, shaking your head in surrender.

“We're both adults.” You muttered under your breath but enough for him to hear it.

“We should save this conversation for another time.” Zayne's voice the same sharp tone and you sighed.

The vast garden wasn't enough to cover the whole residence where Zayne lives. The large windows occupy most of the walls. Letting the natural sunlight in, creating a atmosphere for relaxation. A spacious living room greets you. The color schemes mixes of white and gray with a touch of greenery in the corners. There's also a mezzanine which you assume is Zayne's office. A glass window were also placed there and he can see the entirety of the living room.

This is going to be your home. Temporarily.

You won't be staying in a house that doesn't feel like home with him. Someone who's heart belonged to another. Home is where the person is and you were a stranger but a intruder is more befitting way to call it.

Zayne hovers behind you as he guides you upstairs. Afraid that you'll trip or lose balance. Although he's against of you being discharged so early in the hospital. Knowing the risk and complications that your body have to suffer due to your internal injuries but you can be so headstrong at things and to avoid certain complications he gave up to your wishes in exchange that he's supervising your whole recovery.

He stares at you. Trying to gauge at your reactions but met with the same gaze as you scan the room. Muttering a small thank you under your breath again. Resigned at your current situation with him. As someone perceptive, Zayne knows what's currently going on your mind. You were tired and is still on the process of recovering. The wounds may yet to heal on your skin but deep inside your heart was long shattered and even he's in the expertise of curing heart diseases he can't fix what he broke.

Was he this dismissive and cold towards you during the times when you tried to initiate things? Of making efforts to gain his attention? Of trying to know him since although the match is wasn't you both wanted, you wanted to have a common ground with him and only to ignore you.

“Is the bed comfortable for you?” He asks, following your movements as he watches you take a seat in the edge of the bed. “It's fine.” You shrugged. “Can you leave me alone now? We both have a long day.” Shooting him a glance before looking down to your clasped hands in your lap. “I'll be back later.” Zayne curtly nods before he stops in his tracks like he's about to say something and then decided it wasn't worth it. You hear the door shut.

After a dinner meticulously prepared by him and watching you like a hawk while you eat. Making sure you were taking spoonfuls after spoonfuls of food that your body needed. You were back in your bedroom, dressed in loose pajamas. It was engraved to you to dress in loose clothings since it was needed for better access when doctors and nurses check your vitals. It was easier and you're not putting Zayne in more work and to stay longer with you.

The few buttons of your top were undone. Zayne methodically moves the diaphragm of his stethoscope pressed in your chest. “Breathe slowly.” He instructed you and you did. You weren't embarrassed nor insecure as he listened to the sound of your heart. You were literally poked and prodded while you were undergoing surgery and Zayne have probably seen you naked during your stay at the hospital. “Breathing's good. However I advice you to be in bed rest in the next days and some light exercise will do.” Spoken like a true professional. He takes his stethoscope and you button your pajama top.

“You can call me anytime, (Y/N).” You weakly nod. Your head hitting the pillows and pulling the covers up.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” Zayne says to you as he reached your bedroom door. He was only meet with silence.

In the years of Zayne being a doctor, it was common for comatose patients to experience withdrawal and he understands what you're going through at the moment. You were in coma while the world continued to spin and everyone getting on with their lives but it wasn't just withdrawal you were experiencing. There comes the fear and the guilt after your outburst. He knows you were shaken up by the moment those words left your mouth.

It was his fault. He never should have made you feel the way of never being enough for him. He should have made his intentions clear towards you and not let you run around circles. Throwing you in a loop and only to destroy what left of your respect towards yourself. The conversation earlier in his car replayed in his mind. You wanted him to call off the engagement and go in separate ways. You were contemplating about it for a long time and finally have the courage to tell it to his face. There was no happy ending for this arrangement but Zayne was willing to try. Start over again with you and pick up the broken pieces of your heart. That leaves him to a question, is your heart still intact for him?

Dr. Miles Peterson — Chief of Trauma Surgery.

You briefly glanced at the name plate placed in his glass table before returning to your gaze at the man that was one of who operated you after your accident. Normally, the chief isn't typically involved with the check ups but since you're the fiancee of the esteemed cardiac surgeon — Dr. Zayne, the VIP treatment was there and it doesn't bode with you well.

“So far as good, your reflexes are back to normal and after the follow up scans everything seems fine. Are you—”

Before the trauma surgeon could continue, the glass doors opened and revealed Zayne. “Excuse me.” He greets, his gaze landing on his fellow surgeon before yours.

“Oh, Dr. Zayne.” You can hear the slight waver of his voice. Clearly intimidated by Zayne's presence. It wasn't also the age of the cardiac surgeon intimidated his peers but his achievements and pioneering on his chosen field of expertise although they were different.

The trauma surgeon, Dr. Peterson gestures for Zayne to sit down in the seat across yours. “Please, do not mind me.” Zayne speaks in his professional tone. The same even and measured of his voice still commands authority even in the simplest of conversation.

“So going back, Miss. Have you been experiencing any discomfort or lingering pains in the affected areas?” Dr. Peterson continued to ask you.

Zayne can see the slight hesitation in your face. The twiddling of fingers in clasped hands rested on your lap and he can see how you swallow. There's still the nervousness when you get to be questioned with certain doctors.

“She does.” Zayne cuts you off. The trauma surgeon's full attention was on him. “There's episode of phantom pains, the brain interpreting the affected nerves as signal for pain but there's no mistaking that her thoracic region is still affected by the injuries and is still in the process of healing. Aside from that the tenderness of her abdomen is long gone and is functioning well.”

“That's expected. It may take another months for it to disappear. Don't worry, Miss. With the right medication and therapy it will be gone in no time.” He explains and Dr. Peterson noticed the glare you were giving Zayne.

Uh, oh. Is there trouble in paradise? He thought to himself. It was the same look his wife gave to him. Sensing the tension in the air, he briefly ends the discussion.

This one was new scene unfolding in front of him. The great Dr. Zayne is having trouble with his relationship. He guessed not all relationships have the perfect touch of happiness and since Dr. Zayne is young, it was bound to happen. He lets out an exhale. Relationships sure takes hardwork.

“You don't have to accompany me in every check-up. I can manage it on my own.” You started, Zayne was starting to annoy you with his constant hovering over you.

“It is necessary. I need to know everything that happens to your body since I take care of you.” Zayne calmly explained as you walked besides him. His white coat abandoned and underneath that coat he usually wears is his three-piece neutral colored suits.

“I'm going home.” Spinning your heel around towards the nearest exit but before you can take a step, Zayne stops you. “No, I'm taking you home. Let me grab my things and we can go home.”

Fuck. Why was he so adamant in being this around to you? It was suffocating. If you were the same person before you got tired of him, of chasing him — you have jumped out of joy earlier but now, you want to be treated like air again.

It was difficult.

Zayne pushes the shopping cart while you walked besides him in the aisle of the department store. The grocery was quite depleted since you started living with him and Zayne was the one who usually picks up the needed stuff in the house along with a warm meal — it was the first time you both did it. Mindlessly and silent walking while you both take a look on the available items displayed in the shelves.

He was about to turn around when a familiar voice called out to him. It was familiar to you too. How could you forget that voice. Your body turns rigid. A lump forming in your throat. It was immediate. The tears forming at the corner of your eyes, pooling at your eyelids. You desperately fluttered your eyes in a series of blinks. Stopping the dam that was threatening to spill.

She didn't notice you. You can walk away and not see how they would lovingly gaze at each other. A silent romance that bloomed between them before time existed. You felt like a intruder. A villain who stopped them from getting their destined fate. Breaking them apart and no matter how you destroyed their bond. They will always come back and find each other.

“Zayne! Fancy seeing you here. I came to the hospital but you left early.” She cheerily greets him, her voice bubbly with the genuine air around her. She was so nice.

Sensing that you were about to run away again. Zayne firmly holds your hand in his and no matter how you tried to discreetly take your hand off him, he keeps the tight grip on yours.

“I apologize, I was accompanying my fiancee, (Y/N).” It was your time to finally meet her this close and with that, you keep your tears at bay. “Hello, nice to meet you.” Politely greeting her and even you wanted to cry, you muster the most sincere smile you can offer.

Concern was plastered to her face when she noticed the misty glazed in your eyes. “Are you okay?” She asks. You smiled at her gently. “Don't worry. It's just allergies. No biggie.” You assured her.

“Oh, I should be going to the restroom. Zayne can talk to you now.” You yank your own hand from him. Tapping his shoulder and smiling back again to her. You walked away from them with your held high and the tears that was threatening to spill earlier came rolling down your cheeks freely.

Thankfully, the restroom was vacant. Your tears were dried up, the moment you entered. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. You look ghastly. Shabby compared to her. You look at your sweater. Stained with the droplets of your tears. What are you a kid?

You reach our for a tissue. Dabbing it to dry the sweater. You look so stupid every time you look at her. The ugly insecurities that keeps surfacing after you buried showing up again and again. Everything's so stupid at you. Fucking choice of clothing. A oversized baby blue sweater and long dark denim skirt with white sneakers while she looks so chic in her red ruffled hem top with a open black sleeve shrug and a tight black jeans with her black combat boots.

She's everything you're not.

She's beautiful with all her charms. She holds Zayne's affections. We're you really that bad in your past life that you need to be punished so bad. To witness a love that transcends time without knowing each other and ending up in every timeline.

The texture of the tissue being repeatedly rubbed raw to your dampened cheeks caused it to sting. The tears continuously flowing and no matter how much the tissue soaks of your tears, it continues. The sink was filled with tissues soaked with your tears.

Your reflection was mocking you. Did the gods cursed you and granted you to be this ugly. You look so dumb right now. Crying your eyes out in front of the mirror and you convinced yourself you weren't hurt anymore.

By the time you were done crying, it looks like life was drained out of your face. Moisture was drawn out and your eyes are red in the rims. That's what you get for crying. You turned on the faucet and let the cold water run in your palm before splashing your face. You slapped your round cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths and checking your reflection again. Making sure your face are not that puffy than it's usual puffiness and your eyes weren't that red anymore.

It's okay. It won't hurt anymore. You tell to yourself. You'll break free from this farce of an engagement.

Zayne followed your retreating form and you got your eyes glossy again. The sight breaking his heart all over again. He looks at her. “I apologize, you can reschedule your appointment again. I must go.” He didn't wait for her response and followed you. Leaving a puzzled her and the abandoned shopping cart.

He take out his phone and presses the tracking app. It was needed. You have the tendency to wander off in your own and from the coordinates of your location you were still around the area. You weren't lying when you said you needed the restroom and Zayne waits for you outside.

“(Y/N).” Zayne calls out to you. He takes your hand in his. Linking it to his once again. “Let's go home.” Your brows furrow. “What about the groceries? What about her?” He shakes his head. The strands of his hair swaying to the movements of his head.

“It's nothing. We can do it another day. I'm sorry for forcing you out here. You're tired. Let's pick some takeout, okay?” He suggested and he pulls you closer towards him.

Was your hands were always this soft? Plush and gentle, a contrast to his own calloused hands. The slender digits perfectly fitting in your own pillowy ones. He should have held your hands more. The warmth of your own palms seeping through his colder ones. Providing him the safety of being yours.

That night, Zayne have watched you climbed up in the stairs. Shutting the door of your room. You didn't join him at dinner that night.

When Zayne made sure you were asleep. He slowly opens the door. He can make the outline of your plush body under the covers. Sleeping soundly after being jaded out by today's event. The bed dips by his added weight. Leaning towards your side. His elbow propped above your head.

He studies your expression. Gently gazing at the softness of your features. There's your eyes shut but cried so many tears because of him. You were not her. Although he feels they shared many lifetimes with no memories of it. She feels like home. The jasmines will always reminds him of her but what about you. You weren't at fault here. You loved him genuinely and in exchanged he hurt you.

Love must know sacrifices. He knows it very well. He did — a thousand times.

However when the night you were on that gurney, bleeding and unconscious. It was the first time he felt what it was truly to lose someone.

His fingertips grazes at the surface of your plump cheek. It was warm. “I keep hurting you,.... don't I?” He whispers. “I'm sorry.” It was a apology for being unfair to you.

“Mmm....” Your eyes fluttered open. Your voice riddled with sleep. “Stop hurting me, Zayne. Stop hurting us.” You slowly blinked and your breath goes back to the same steady rhythm and when he grasp your cheek. A tear rolled down from your eyes.

Of all the things he could have done. He presses a kiss to your temple. Staying for a minute by your side while he listens to your heart beat. Thump..... thump.... thump.... the sound of your heart beat, slow and steady. You were alive in his arms and the thumping of your heart lulls him to sleep and for the first time, he slept peacefully that night besides you. No nightmares to haunt him.

It must be your brain playing tricks on you or it was the side effects of your brain being squished from the accident. Last night, you went early to bed with your stomach grumbling but the tiredness washed over you then something cold grazes you. A voice whispering and you see Zayne. You mumbled something and then the drowsiness took you again and brought you back to your dreamland.

The images were eerily vivid and you can't differentiate if it occured on last night's bout. You only shrugged it off.

There's the faint sweet scent of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup as you slowly descended down from the flight of stairs and in the kitchen you see Zayne plating the warm pancakes.

He takes the glasses and placed it along besides your plates in the respective place. The steam from his mug filled with coffee dances.

“Good morning.” You greeted out of courtesy.

“We should eat together. You must be hungry since you didn't eat last night.” The neutral monotone voice of his is tinge with softness.

“Don't you need to be in the hospital now?” You asked out of curiosity. Lately, Zayne's been acting more hands on to you despite the speedy recovery and it totally weirded you out.

“I've got an hour before I go and you must eat. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and should not be missed.” He says, pulling out the barstool under the counter. You sit besides him.

Zayne watches you take a bite of your breakfast before starting on his. There's only the subtle sound of utensils clinking and a beat of silence before you broke it.

“Zayne?” You asked without looking. Focused on the delicious meal in front of you.

The surgeon pauses and then hums in acknowledgement. “I'm continuing my work at the museum.” You revealed to him and it's not like he can dictate what you want to do.

Working in one of the biggest museums in Linkon as a curator wasn't your dream job but it's something you certainly enjoyed. You only told him as being civil to him since you live in the same roof and you can get away from him.

Your fiance puts his cup down. The green in his eyes flickering with hardness before returning to its usual pallor. “Although I'm against the idea of you being back in your work, I must say it's better for the sake of your health. You've been cooped up here for too long.” There's a tinge of reluctance in his voice but you ignored it as you angled yourself to look at him.

He meet your gaze and you offered him a small smile. It didn't reach your eyes, Zayne noticed that. It was a look of politeness and resigned at the same time. Your eyes seems dull since that accident and the unexpected meeting with her.

His fingers twitches. The slender digits rising to reach yours but forms into a curl. He knows he's making it worst towards you.

The breakfast ended with no words being exchanged after the brief conversation.

That was mistake. A poor judgement in his part.

It was a logical reason on his part to allow you back. You have your freedom and a career during the duration of your nonexistent relationship with him. Arranged but never engaged to each other's lives. It's his own words but you made the efforts to support him and be involved in his life. In which he falls short of. He treated you like you were his obligation.

Now, he's getting the taste of his own medicine.

Zayne have been staring at his phone for the last thirty minutes. Barely glancing at the reports needed to be typed, the consultations that needed to be scheduled and doing his rounds. Waiting for the text message that will never come.

It was slow. The usual things you do for him slowly disappearing right before his eyes. His desk felt empty and devoid of any bright color that usually occupies his desk. There's always a sprig of jasmine in the corner. The one that you always brought with you when you visit him. Knowing the significance of it on his life.

How painful must it be to you that the flower was a symbol of his affection towards her and you kept giving it to him as reminder of their many shared lives.

A spectator. Silently watching while your heart breaks at any given moment. You didn't beg and wistfully respected his wishes. What truly hurts you is when the times he acted like he was being forced to be in your presence and you kept silent about it. Blaming yourself entirety for his shortcomings.

Zayne takes off his silver wired glasses. He sees the time in his clock and it was time for him to clock out and pick you up.

The museum where you worked at is one of the biggest buildings in Linkon. He parks outside near the exit where he knows you'll be appearing anytime soon.

It didn't take too long for him to wait for you. He was about to open the door when suddenly a man approaches you, holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You were startled at first and from the looks of your relaxed body language, you knew the person. Accepting the flowers with a grateful expression before bidding a goodbye.

You saw him but you didn't bother to hide the flowers in your hands. You only greeted him and went to his car like you always did when Zayne started picking you up after hours of your work.

You stare at the space in front of you before looking at Zayne who was doing the same. His eyes fixated on the bouquet of flowers resting in your lap. “Who is he?” Zayne asks you nonchalantly. Studying your expression with a shrug you answered him. “It's Theo from work. A colleague.” Absentmindedly stroking the velvety petals.

“Why the flowers?” He clears his throat. Gripping the steering wheel before igniting the car, there's the faint thrum of the car and Zayne began to drive. You paid no mind to his question, not finding any sense or malice and it was harmless.

“Just celebratory flowers, I guess. Me coming back to work and recovering from the accident.” Your voice soft and sincere, he glances at you before returning his gaze to the road.

“And you don't see anything more to it?” You raise a brow at his question. There's a underlying meaning to it but it could be just your imagination.

“Yeah. It's just flowers and I think it's nice to receive them.” Focusing your gaze on the road.

“I see. He must have put a lot of thought on them. It seems he likes you..... A lot.” His tone wasn't accusatory but the usual same monotone voice and there's a weight on it.

“Why do you care? It's not you to meddle with my affairs. I'll admit I like Theo but it's the not the way you think of it. He's cool and the typical friendly colleague you'll find in a certain work jobs and I know there must be in yours too and I don't care about your relationship with others.” You let out a slow, heavy sigh. Something between frustration and disbelief.

“I apologize for upsetting you and implying that you're invested in your colleague's behavior towards you. It didn't strike me that you're fond of flowers.” Gods. Zayne was getting in your nerves these days and if it wasn't for his constant hovering, this one took the cake.

“I'm not and thank you for noticing. It doesn't hurt to receive flowers once in a while without asking.” You replied sarcastically, you didn't even realize that you were gripping the stems of the flowers before loosening. Apologetically caressing the almost wilted flowers.

You asked Zayne once about giving you flowers but that was your mistake. You thought girls asks for that kind of stuff but if he wanted, he could. It just didn't matter to him and that was the last time. You received flowers, many times but it doesn't mean anything special if it wasn't from Zayne, it's meaningless.

He knows but he didn't have the capacity to give it to you and you were stupid and naive for entertaining the idea that you're special to him. It was a well wasted time begging for his attention.

The ride all the way home settled in a silent one. You didn't even notice his hard grip on the steering wheel.

The peonies were a nice vibrant shade of yellows and pink. It was a nice arrangement with baby's breath being added and from the looks of your contented smile, you loved it before the familiar unshed tears glossing in to your dark eyes.

The twitch in your hands, the familiar rubbing of your thumb and index fingers together in your clasped hands. If he speak even a single word, you'll break again. That's why he remained silent. Seeing you cry because of him was painful enough and he's only giving you more reasons to be hurt — again and again.

He doesn't love you. Though the sight of you with a another man brought a sensation that he wasn't familiar with. His ears burn more like a tingling feeling. The sudden tightness of his throat and his chest felt like it was being weigh down by something heavy. A nagging voice echoes in his end although no words were said. The more he sees you smiling from the thought of your supposedly colleague who may have or have not feelings for you that is not entirely professional than what you think.

Is it jealousy he was feeling? It was such an ugly feeling. A cancer to one's being and he didn't like it one bit when you're close to someone who's not him. You can be distant to him as anytime you like but he can never tolerate you being close to others.

He finds you later at night in the kitchen. Clutching a piping bag as you carefully put dollops of batter into the parchment tray. A perfect circle for his favored baked goods. The sight feels of warmth. Seeing you wearing that apron dusted with flour and the other dry ingredients.

After tapping the sheet pan a few times to remove air bubbles, setting it aside to let it rest as you moved to make the filling. It was quite tasking, singlehandedly whisking the ingredients and Zayne joins you to your little baking session.

“You're going to develop carpal tunnel if you bend your hands like that while whisking.” He takes your hand from behind. His thumb gliding over to your wrist before holding the back of your hand. Gently guiding your own in small circles before putting enough speed and not to strain your wrist. He places his other hand to the other that holds the mixing bowl.

You didn't protest. Quite taken aback at the sudden gesture. You feel the hard planes of his body behind you. His gaze following your every move that he holds on his own. “You ought to teach me sometime.” He casually commented. Keeping his grip firm on yours. You didn't respond and it's only the sound of the whisk scraping the contents of the mixing bowl.

It took a few minutes before the filling reached the desired consistency. Zayne slides his hands above your arms before pulling. When he steps back to give you space, you turn around. Without warning he reaches forward. He gently lifts your face to meet his gaze.

He feels you stiffen under his touch before using his thumb to wipe the flour smeared to your cheek. “You got something here.” He caresses your round cheek. His touch lingering on your skin, mesmerized by the softness before his gaze landed on your lips. There's a slight tremble to your lips and he let go.

None of you dared to speak. Funny, he's taking interest now. You snapped and he made the efforts to reach out to you. To know you better. He's making up for the past neglect and you weren't angry anymore at him.

A small bitter smile is drawn to your lips as you take the sight of the baking tools cluttered in his kitchen counter. It was desperation when you first learned how to bake. Wanting to impress him with his favorite sweets once you learned he has a sweet tooth. It took trial and error. Then what once act of desperation turned into a hobby that you greatly enjoyed.

You realize all of your life was built on trying to get the cardiac surgeon's attention to you. From certain interests to personal choices.

Or perhaps it was his guilt that telling him to act this way. Turned the tables to care for you.

“You're really acting weird, Zayne.” A deep frown being etched in your face. You brushed the advances he did after the accident. You weren't in no mood to deal with those kind of affections.

“How so?” His voice gentle towards you.

“You never bothered to do stuff with me before. You always brush me off and now, this?” Your hand covers your stomach. Rubbing your side to comfort yourself. He follows your movement.

“Are you feeling guilt after the accident, Zayne?” His fingers twitched. His jaw clenches and something dark clouded over his eyes before returning to their normal. He was silent for a bit.

You take his silence as a cue to continue. “I got hurt days after my drunken outburst and you think it's your fault this happened and you're feeling guilty — You should stop doing things that should have made me happy if I were still my stupid self. I don't need you looking after me because you think you're responsible for all of this. I don't want to be treated like I'm a task that you can't get rid of.” You avoided his gaze. Nibbling on your lower lip.

The words stung. Part of it was true and the other half was a lie. Zayne did truly care for you. The nightmare that vividly appeared on his dreams while you lay unconscious in the hospital bed came surfacing.

You are his responsibility. Whatever the consequences of your actions or what happened to you is his to carry since you were about to be his wife.

He takes your remarks seriously. He leans in close towards you. “I admit it was guilt but I was wrong. I was scared. I was afraid that I've truly lost you and what I feel for you right now is entirely different.” He brushes his knuckles along your round cheek.

Zayne looks at you straight in the eyes. There is some emotion you can't recognize behind them but it spoke volumes of sincerity and tenderness. “You are not an obligation. You are my responsibility. The moment our marriage was decided, I vowed to myself that I'll take care of you. I apologize if it's not what you wanted. I'm not quite versed in this kind of things.” His voice trails off like he was unsure of his words.

“But when it came to her, it all feels natural doesn't it? Like it was meant for her.” You retorted. There was no harm in it. It was merely the truth.

“I'm not chastising you for it and I really don't blame you. I accepted it a long time ago. You don't have to pretend, Zayne.” You take his wrist before putting it to his side. Shaking your head slightly. A serene calm washing over you. It stung a lot but you weren't upset about it anymore.

“I'm not pretending, (Y/N). My relationship with her is strictly professional. That's all.”

Truth be told. Zayne was losing feelings for her. He made her relationship with her as nothing but a physician to his patient. There wasn't any outdoor activities besides the confines of his office. It was all for the sake of check ups and nothing more. And if he cared, it's the kind of care a doctor will give to his patient and nothing more.

He was honest. The moment the words left his lips, the realization dawns in. There was no longing or hesitation nor the conflicting emotions swirling behind his words. It was hard for you to accept it.

“It's all in the past now. What I want is in front of me.” His voice sincere, dangerously and surprisingly tender. Your eyes widens and he presses a kiss to your forehead. His arms wrapping behind you as he holds you in his arms. Your head on his chest. You didn't return his hug, your arms hanging in your side.

Despite all of that gestures, you can't shake the feeling that you were trapped now.

Zayne entered your room after knocking and he finds you sitting near the cushioned area by the window. Curled in the spot and your cheek is pressed in the glass window. Absentmindedly staring at the rain drops rolling down in the window pane.

You turned your head slightly to glance at him. Barely acknowledging his presence already used what he's about to do. The mandatory body checkups before you go to bed. He's on his sleepwear.

He sits across you, you have a enough space for him. You can feel his body heat through your pajamas. Warming your cold legs. “Is something the matter?” He inquires. Joining you in watching rain drops racing down. The downpour was still heavy outside.

You look at him, resigned. “Yeah.” His gaze softens, his gaze flickers to your plush body. The pajamas you wore fits to your body perfectly. He looks at you before you can notice his gaze wandering.

“I'm going to return to my home.”

“You are home.” His voice flat. Leaving no space for you to argue but your emotions were stronger.

“I'm not. I think it's the right time for us to talk, Zayne.” His heart skips a beat, not liking where this conversation is going but his face remains the same stoic look.

“You don't have to take care of me anymore and I don't want to be married to you.” You say it — loud and clear.

“Is this what you truly desire? What about your parents?” You didn't notice the way his gaze darkened.

“Yes. My parents will understand and yours too. We're both adults that won't be tied by their wishes and don't act like you don't have a choice. You'll figure it out.” He can see clearly the misty glazed of your eyes.

“It didn't have to be this way. We can both work it out.”

“No, it won't. I don't want you to only pay me attention when I'm injured or I'm in my death bed or I'm spewing curses at you. I don't want you being this sweet, clingy, possessive guy who gets upset at me being with others. You can be controlling too even you don't realize it.” You shifted from your position, standing up like his presence suffocates you.

“I don't want that, Zayne. I don't want to get tied to you. I don't want to be with you anymore.” Your voice cracks at the last line. Zayne stands up, approaching you.

“It was nice knowing you and I must have been lucky for a short amount of time for the way you took care of me.” You mutter under your breath and Zayne hears every syllables of your words under the silence of the room. He hears all of it. The small sighs you emit.

He cups your face in his hands. His expressions unreadable.

The roundness of your cheek, a perfect fit to his palm, like it was meant to hold you. A bitter smile appears on your face. A crystalline clear liquid flows down from your eyes before he wipes it with his thumb.

“Set us free, Zayne. I don't want to be hurt by you anymore and I don't want to hurt you. There's no point for staying in each other's lives.” The sound of your voice rings in his ears. He doesn't want to do it. He's into deep to let you go now. What once denied is being accepted and Zayne would rather drive himself into madness than let you go.

He leans to kiss you but you avoided his kiss before he can touch your lips. He only kissed your cheek and his eyes darkened.

“I won't.” There's a pregnant pause before he continues. The sudden drop of temperature made you shiver and you didn't know if Zayne was using his Evol. “ I won't let you go. You're mine. You were promised to me and I'm going to fulfill it.” He presses his body to your soft body.

“What are you doing?” Panic streaks to your once resigned voice. His touch rough. Gripping your pillowy waist with strength that borders on painful. There's a certain urgency on his voice.

“I'm showing you my undivided attention.” The room got colder as he spoke those words. A shiver running down your spine. You meet his gaze and to meet with those same flecks of gold in his green eyes swirling with emotion you can't discern. The coldness and was it darker than the usual?

You turn around to run but his hand caught your wrist. Forcing you to get back to him.

A cry rips from your throat as Zayne pushes you down in the soft duvet of your bed. He holds your head behind to soften the blow as your body collided on the bed and within seconds his hands pins your own.

“Zayne, stop!” You begged, frantically scrambling to escape his deathly grip. “I'm not going to stop even you beg and cry. I'm yours and you're mine. I have every right to touch you as I please.” His voice colder than the usual and you feel the full blow of it.

Tears streamed down your eyes as he forcefully kisses you. His lips were cold and the contact of your lips in his made it warm.

“No!” He hears you cry again. Pinching your side and it made you gasp. He wasted no time shoving his tongue inside you. Swirling his tongue in places he can reach. Tangling the wet muscle of his own to yours. “Mmph... — hah” Kissing you deeply as he can to show you how he can mark you as his own. Claiming you as his.

He moves your arm above with his hand still pinned on you. Leveled on your head and putting the pressure that you can't move the right part of your body while he kisses you. His brain and body moves in sync. Letting go of your left hand, his fingers deftly unbuttons your top. Pulling the remaining buttons until they popped. Revealing the warm, creamy texture of your skin.

“Ssh, don't resist. It's going to feel good soon.” He assures you and despite the relentless begging for him to stop, he didn't. Continuing the assault, his hand wandering from place to place. Mapping every inch of your body. Committing every detail of your beauty marks on his mind. He studied a lot of human bodies but yours were different. Lush and full with warmth that only you can give.

His lips traveled down to your chin and to the side of your neck. Adorning you with his kisses despite the incessant squirming. He will never let his guard down or give you the opportunity to escape from his hold.

You're soft. Undeniably soft. Your skin reminds him of those fluffy cakes he used to indulge himself with. Sweet and warm. The words repeatedly plays in his mind while he tastes your flesh. He made sure to leave a mark on your neck.

Your cries goes weak by the minute. The soft gasps you desperately muffles spills the more his hand wanders. He pauses. Staring at your face stained with tears.

What was he doing? This isn't like him but if it's only the way you can stay so be it. He can later reflects his action.

He takes your hand in his. Kissing your knuckles. You squirmed at his touch and you dared to look at him.

“If I stop, will you change your mind and stay with me?”

You remained unmoving beneath him. Another fresh batch of tears rolling down at the corner of your eyes.

“No. It won't change anything.” You meekly answered. Trying to escape his grasp.

“Very well.”

That is what you last heard.

The surgeon could get used to mornings like this. Waking up next to you, your naked body pressed against his chest and watch you sleep. Last night's exertions was too much for you to handle and he did try to be gentles as possible to you but his feelings took over.

The dark bruises in your skin was the testament of it and there's nothing like quite like it. He presses a tender kiss to your shoulder. Nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck.

His cold hand caressing the exposed flesh of your body under the covers. His hand rests on your round stomach. It was a mesmerizing sight as he remembers it jiggling while he moves inside you. Kissing your tears goodbye, worshipping you like you deserved.

A thought crosses his mind. He don't mind having a child with you before the wedding. It makes his claim stronger towards you. A underhanded method that you won't ever leave him.

#♱ ⋮ shai's works⸝⸝#chubby reader #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #lads zayne #lads angst #non mc reader #zayne x non mc #zayne x chubby reader #love and deepspace angst #love and deepspace #chubby reader angst #x reader angst

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band--psycho · 5 months ago

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Vander x Reader - 5 Years Later...(Part 2)

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

Part 2 to my Vander x Reader series - Part 1

I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Vander Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Mentions of death, mentions of grief, feeling of dega-vu

You knew the Undercity wasn’t the safest of places to go, at least that’s what your father had always told you.

So why were you down here?

Because as much as you appreciated your fathers protectiveness, what type of friend would you be if you let one of your closest friends go down there alone?

A pretty shit one.

Which is why, despite the risks, you went with Jayce down to the Undercity.

Besides, seeing as you were training to be an Enforcer and Jayce was just a student at the academy it was basically your job to escort him and make sure that nothing happened to him; that’s at least what you’d tell Greyson if she asked where you’d been…and your parents, if they asked which you hoped they wouldn’t.

“Remind me where we’re going?” You asked in a slightly hushed tone as the two of you turned a corner walking down a dimly lit alley, before

“I need to get some supplies for a project I’m working on,” Jayce answered simply; with an optimistic gleam in his eyes.

“What project?” you inquired, unable to keep your curiosity at bay; it had certainly been a while since you’d seen Jayce this excited about a project.

“It’s best I don’t tell you, until I can get it working,” he replied; his answer only furthering your curiosity, but perhaps it was for the best for you to know as little as possible…especially if the academy wasn’t aware of it, which by the seams of things, they weren’t. The less you knew the better; though it still played on your mind as the two of you continued walking through the Undercity.

To most people the Undercity was just an underdeveloped land across the river, deep in the canyons, beneath Piltover, filled with misfits and thugs; but as you walked through the lanes of the Undercity, you couldn’t help but admire the beauty of it.

The beauty of how vibrant the lights atop of the shops shone in the darkness; the difference of industrial architecture, making each building its own, if only in a little way.

It was different from Piltover, of course, but beautiful nevertheless.

Since you'd arrived down here you couldn’t shake this feeling of deja-vu…like you’d been here before.

It was odd.

You’d never been down here; not once; so why did it feel so familiar?

You were so lost in your own thoughts that you hadn’t realised Jayce had stopped walking until you walked into the back of him.

“Sorry,” you whispered, hearing a small chuckle fall from his lips.

“Lost in your own world again?” he teased, turning around to look at you.

You simply rolled your eyes at his comment and looked at the building you’d stopped outside; a pawn shop.

You shot Jayce a confused look; you didn’t understand what this place had that any of the shops in Piltover didn’t; except from some anonymity.

Down here no one knew him.

But that only caused the curiosity you had about his project to grow.

“Stay out here, I won’t be long,” he said before disappearing inside the shop.

You went to follow him, before you heard a song in the distance, that halted your steps.

You knew it.

But you were certain you’d never heard it before…

How did you know a song from the Undercity?

You turned on your heel, following the sound of the song; you knew it was risky, venturing off into the Undercity alone and you knew Jayce would be worried if he came back outside and noticed you gone, but you couldn’t help it.

It was like your feet had a mind of their own and before you knew it, you’d come to the source of the music, it was a bar, or at least that’s what you assumed it was seeing as it was called ‘The Last Drop’ and had a logo of a tankard in the middle of the name.

‘Why does this place seem so familiar?’ you thought to yourself, your eyes narrowing as you stared at the building in front of you.

You were about to take another step, before you felt someone grab ahold of your wrist; instinctively your training kicked in and your guard went up, ready to fight.

That was until you saw that it was Jayce who was holding your wrist; he was panting slightly with a worried look in his eyes, “I thought something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, guilt washing over you, “I didn’t mean to worry you,”

“It’s okay,” he answered softly, tugging on your wrist slightly, leading you away from the bar, “Let’s just get out of here.”

And with that the two of you made your way past the pawn shop Jayce had been in, passing a little boy with white hair leaning against the wall, he had a proud smile on his face that was until he saw you.

You waved at him politely, confused about why he was staring at you; but the little boy said nothing, he just continued to stare at you, his mouth hanging slightly agape as you vanished out of his view.

All you could think about as you made your way back to Piltover was how strange today had truly been.

The deja-vu, the song, the bar, the little boy….none of it was making any sense….

~~~~~~

Vander hated seeing Vi hurt; he also hated that she was a mirror image of how he was when he was younger, so eager to rebel against the topsiders…but it wasn’t that simple.

That’s what he was trying to get her to understand.

Every action had a consequence.

He knew that better than anyone.

He was the one who was too stubborn to call off the uprising, because he wanted to show Piltover that they were worthy of not being left behind on all the grand new ventures Piltover were indulging in; and because of that, he lost so many people that were close to him.

But no ones ghost was more haunting than yours.

He just needed Vi to understand that violence wasn’t the way to play this.

He knew Greyson would probably be paying him a visit soon; the kids, unintentionally, broke an agreement that he’d made with the current sheriff of Piltover, to keep a peace between topside and the Lanes.

A peace that was now hanging by a thread.

Once he was sure Vi’s injuries were clean, he rose from the table and began putting away the supplies he’d used to clean her cuts.

“Vander…there’s something else,” Vi began, halting Vanders movements and making his attention focus back on her.

“Go on,” he said calmly, though in his mind he was dreading the next words that were going to come out of her mouth; she’d just been part of blowing up a building in Piltover, what more could there be.

“Ekko said….he said he saw Y/n,”

Her words short-circuited his mind at the mention of your name.

“What?” he asked; thinking that maybe, somehow, he’d misheard what Vi had said.

“He said he saw Y/n walking with that topside guy that came into the shop,” she repeated, noticing how Vanders eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to process her words.

“That was partly why I went up there….to see if she was there,” she continued, rising from her seat, walking over to Vander and placing her hand on his arm.

She knew how much Vander loved you.

She knew how much losing you broke him.

She knew how much losing you hurt both her and Powder; who’d grown so close to you in the few years prior to the uprising.

That’s why she wanted to be sure that Ekko wasn’t wrong; she’d barely believed him herself when he first told her, but before the explosion happened, she was sure she heard your voice; but without actually seeing you, she couldn't be sure if it was you or if it was just the wishful thinking in her mind.

“She’s dead, Vi,” Vander stated; his voice remaining balanced; although the look in his eyes showed a growing sadness.

“You’ve never believed that,”

It wasn’t a lie; he didn’t believe it.

He might’ve said that you were dead; but Vi knew that deep in his heart, he had never believed it.

He never found your body; and without your body, he could still cling on to the hope that you were alive.

Vi never really understood why he couldn’t believe your death was real; but now she knew that he was right all along.

“Ekko got it wrong, it can’t have been her.”

“Vander, he knows what she looks like….” Vi tried to counter, they all knew what you looked like from the photos Vander kept of the two of you; but Vander just went back to putting away the medical supplies before heading to the stairs.

“He got it wrong,” he answered back, slightly harsher than he’d intended to,before leaving the basement entirely and heading to his own room.

He all but collapsed onto the side of your bed; his eyes landing on the photo of you he kept on his bedside table.

You were dead.

That’s what he kept telling himself.

That’s what he'd had to tell himself for the last five years to keep his own sanity.

But there was a little voice in the back of his head, a voice that reignited his failing hope…what if you weren’t…what if what Ekko said was true…?

Vander didn’t know what to believe….the memories from that day flooding back into his mind as the pain he’d felt re-entered his heart, tears fell from the Hound Of The Undergrounds eyes, as he tried to work out what to believe.

What if all these years you’d been alive?

Why were you in Piltover?

Why hadn’t you come back to him?

Did you blame him for what happened on the bridge….did you blame him for the deaths so many people had succumbed to…?

Is that why you never came home?

So many thoughts were running through his mind; but even if his mind hadn’t settled on a decision, his heart had; he needed to find out the truth.

And he would; just as soon as he’d smoothed everything out with Greyson about today's incident.

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-lone-librarian @conretewings @barbersjoy @eternallyvenus @trixiex2 @newlosadventures @eternalgoddessofart @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @nagislemontea @dazecrea

I apologise in advance to those who have asked to be on the taglist and aren’t - I’m not ignoring you, I just can’t tag you in it for some reason :(

#vander x reader #vander x you #vander imagines #vander imagine #vander arcane #arcane vander #vander #arcane #arcane imagines #arcane x reader #arcane imaigne #arcane x you

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thescorpioking1983 · 6 months ago

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Greyson Lane

#Greyson Lane

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autumn-sweet-fae · 3 months ago

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Jayvik time-travel fix-it Concept

So with the anomaly transportation theory gaining more support, let me pitch this to ya’ll:

Jayce and Viktor holding the acceleration rune stone between them in the chaos of the anomaly one second, and then standing together in Jayce’s old blown up apartment, with Jayce’s same acceleration rune stone bracelet held between them the next.

The two fall into each other, hugging and crying at both being alive together and being back before all their mistakes could be made.

They’re both restored to their younger selves, but also forever changed by their connection to the arcane. Viktor can still feel the arcane within him, not the consuming void of the hexcore, but a new awareness and understanding of the world he didn’t have before. He could also still feel the tethered connection to Jayce, those iridescent fingerprints reemerging in a glow when the connection is tugged, but otherwise hidden.

Jayce can still feel the phantom pains of his anomaly infected injuries, the webbed scars following into this reality, even though the bone itself never suffered the break. Jayce himself cannot sense the arcane as well a Viktor on his own, but when he tugs on their connection he can feel it through his partner.

And so here they are, two young scientist turned mages, sitting in the center of Piltover, a city that has no tolerance for any such magics.

It’s Jayce who suggest they leave for Zaun, take what they can carry and find a little place in the undercity to hide away, until they can figure out what they want to do next. Viktor finds himself agreeing, as there’s no way he can face Heimerdinger again without the Yortle clocking his dramatic change of character, if not his outright connection to the arcane.

Viktor would think of getting in contact with Vander, the man he found within the beast. He deeply regretted what he had done to Vander in their past life, and hoped he and Jayce might be able to help him in some way. After all, it makes sense for two runaways to seek to build an allyship with the leader of the Lanes, for both protection and potential work in the short term.

It’s in this moment then that Viktor is slapped with the realization that this is the very night Vander dies.

Refusing to let such a thing come to pass, to let Vanders beautiful dream for Zaun and his family be shattered once again, the two would start brainstorming what they could possibly do to prevent such an out come. It doesn’t take long for them to come to one troubling conclusion….

To instead ally themselves with Silco through using Viktors past connection with Dr. Reveck.

Later, when Vander discovers Vi’s plan to turn herself in, Vander and Benzo rush to stop her, just as they had in the main timeline.

Except here, no one comes for them. Not Captain Greyson and her Enforcers as they had expected, and not Silco and his goons either. Instead, the night goes on, and Vanders family is safe, not yet aware of the strings being pulled around them.

Until the next day, when Captain Greyson arrives for a privet chat. She carry’s two documents with her. One, the confession from Vi. The other, a warrant for the arrest of two wanted men who had gone missing last night. After stealing all the confiscated equipment from the lab Vanders kids had robbed.

She demands that Vander use his pull over the Lanes to fine these missing fugitives, and in exchange, she’ll push to have the search for his people dismissed. After all, one of the missing men, Jayce Talis, was the same man that lived in that apartment. And Viktor? A potential traitor to the academy and Piltover, to have no doubt helped a disgraced mad scientist like Talis steal back his illegal research and then smuggled him out of the city to his homeland of Zaun.

The Hound of the Underground will do what it takes to protect his family.

The hunt is on.

(Additionally, Viktor eventually wearing Silco down to rethink his takeover plans and maybe even Communicate with Vander. While Vander is getting back his spark to fight back against Piltover again between more arguments with Vi and maybe a confrontation with Jayce.

Viva la revolution + Zaundads couple counseling)

#jayvik #jayce talis #Viktor #victor arcane #zaundads #Vander #vander arcane #arcane #arcane fanfic #my babbling

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wingedshadowfan · 1 month ago

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"you mourn the dead and scorn the living"

or, what i find so fascinating about the arcane alternate universe ekko and heimerdinger got sent to:

there is very little we know for sure about what happened in the alternate universe, other than the fact that the explosion caused by the hexstones in jayce's apartment killed vi, that silco and vander forgave each other somehow, that hextech never got invented, and that the lanes are flourishing.

those things are all intrinsically connected.

imagine a headline about a bunch of rascals from the undercity blowing up an inventor's penthouse after robbing it and escaping, and about an orphan from the undercity dying in a tragic accident in a topside inventor's penthouse. depending on how it's framed, even if it's public knowledge vi, powder, mylo and claggor tried to rob the place, even if jayce and caitlyn also got injured, vi's death would've earned sympathy and shed light not only on jayce's dangerous experiments, but also on the situation in the undercity. what would've cassandra done when she found out kids in the undercity are so deprived that they'd go to these lengths (putting themselves, but also her daughter and jayce in danger) just to steal some junk from topside? what if caitlyn had actually died? would cassandra meet with vander? or powder? go down there herself? what would she say to the council not as a kiramman, not as a councilor, but as a mother? what would greyson have said and done, someone who thought so highly of caitlyn, and worked with vander, fully aware of the situation in zaun? it's unclear in the au, but judging by the fact that silco isn't "evil" anymore, it's likely that zaun somehow got its independence eventually.

i think vander would've turned to silco when vi died. in vander's head, even if silco chose to never forgive him (because vander doesn't know silco never found his letter), silco knew vi as a baby or even as a kid. even if he hadn't seen her in years, he was just as close to felicia as vander. vander would've blamed himself for what happened, would've wanted to tell him, to seek comfort in an old friend, feeling like he owes him the truth. we know silco wasn't actively trying to kill vander but just jumped on the first opportunity he got, so what would've happened if vander approached him first, and in this context? maybe that's how they found out about the letter and decided to reconcile in grief, which also must mean silco abandoned singed's experiments. he only needed shimmer to get power, an edge to topside, a way to scare them and earn their respect, so he could achieve a free nation of zaun. what if vi's death already started a discussion on that front, so he didn't have to continue going that route?

what if the lanes are doing so much better in the au not just because hextech never got made, but also because shimmer never got made? what if industrialist silco, who reconciled with vander in grieving what is effectively his niece, actually used his money for good, and not to accumulate even more power and control against piltover? or maybe jayce, affected by the situation and the near death experience, listened to heimerdinger the first time (met viktor perhaps) and changed his experimental focus so his work actually helped reduce inequality between the twin cities without meddling with the arcane?

the difference between a juvenile thief and a victim child is such a fine line, but you wouldn't speak ill of the dead, you wouldn't blame them post-factum like you'd do to the living, would you? you'd want to know who they were once, what happened to them, how it can be avoided in the future. instead of witch hunting and looking for someone to take the blame, piltover would also be forced to look within, to take at least partial blame. i think delving into the reasons for the differences in the canon and alternative universe, even speculatively, tells us so much about human psychology and the world of arcane, if not the real world.

EDIT: just wanted to add this here

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galway-girlatwork · 8 months ago

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Deliver Me

Fandom: Triple Frontier- AU.

Rating: Mature-This is a dark fiction. It took on a mind of its own when I began writing it. There is so much angst. A small amount of fluff and smut. Like teeny, tiny. It was supposed to be Frankie falling in love and he did, it just took a really long time to get there.

TRIGGER WARNING: Domestic Battery. (Please do not read this if it will cause trauma. Explicit scene. Explicit description of abuse.)

Central Characters: Frankie. Trinity. Lily. (Trinity’s daughter) David. (Trinity’s ex-husband)

Central Relationship: Frankie, Trinity, Lily.

Word Count: 4,669

AO3

Please do not copy my work. If you liked it, please re-blog and tag me. Please do not steal my mood board. Stealing is WRONG so just don’t do it. I do not give permission to copy, translate, or post my work to any other platform.

Music inspiration: Bat for Lashes-Let’s Get Lost

Written for @toomanystoriessolittletime writing challenge

SUMMARY:

Running. It was what she knew, her ex-hundreds of miles away. A relationship is not what she needed, not what she wanted. Peace is all she craved after years of living in fear, relying on the flight or fight response. Meeting her daughter’s kindergarten teacher, who was the exact opposite of David, her abusive ex, might change that. But what happens when the past rears its ugly head? Will she fight, flee or finally ask for help?

Deliver Me

The small town of Pinebrook seemed like the perfect place for a fresh start. Trinity had arrived just a few weeks ago, driven by the promise of a peaceful life for her and her five-year-old daughter, Lily. Cozy, tree-lined streets, friendly neighbors, that didn’t ask a lot of questions, gave her hope that Pinebrook could be the safe haven she needed.

David was finally in jail, after the last time he’d hit her. He hadn’t cared that the papers were final, the judge giving her full custody of their daughter. A month later, he’d broken into her apartment. When she came to, he’d fractured four ribs, broken her nose, for the second time, and choked her until she’d passed out. When he was sentenced, he was taken out of the courtroom, screaming that the next time he’d kill her. But now? She felt a sliver of hope that she and Lily could have normal. PTA, bake sales, Girl Scouts, it was a feeling she’d hadn’t been allowed to have in years.

Lily was starting kindergarten today at the elementary school at the edge of town. She was anxious about leaving her all day but Lily’s excitement was contagious. As they stood outside the classroom on the first day of school, she knelt down to straighten Lily’s little backpack.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” she asked, her voice gentle yet tinged with nervousness.

Lily nodded; eyes wide with curiosity. “I’m ready, Momma!”

Just then, the classroom door opened, and a tall, warm-looking man with kind brown eyes and dark curls appeared. He smiled, making Trinity feel an unexpected flutter in her chest. Standing, she took Lily’s hand in hers, not expecting a male teacher, especially for a room of five-year-olds. Lily, hid behind her, tiny hand curling into the sweater she was wearing. “Lily love, it’s okay.”

“You must be Lily,” he said with a grin, kneeling to meet her at eye level. “I’m Mr. Morales, but you can call me Frankie. I’ll be your teacher this year.”

“And you must be Lily’s mom,” Frankie said, standing up and extending his hand to her. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Frankie Morales.”

“Trinity,” she replied, shaking his hand. “Trinity Greyson. It’s nice to meet you, too. Lily, I’ll be here to pick you up at 2:45, okay? Be good and have a great day.” Frankie seemed to have a calming effect on Lily as he gently guided her into the classroom, her own nerves settling slightly for the first time since she moved here.

Sitting in the carpool lane had to be one of the most boring things a mom had to do. It was a hurry up and wait deal where you wanted to be the first one in line but then sit here until school ended. She didn’t realize the line would be halfway down the street. When she pulled up, she smiled, seeing Lily with Frankie, being so animated about whatever they were talking about. When the back door opened, he helped her in the car, letting her know he’d see her in the morning.

From then till bedtime, Lily told her everything about her very first day, showing off her first coloring page, which was promptly put on the fridge with a magnet that had been left by the previous owner. Finally tucked in bed, night light projecting stars on walls and ceiling, she went into her room, tablet in hand and after checking emails, browsed the school website, a small smile graced her face as she found Frankie’s picture. If Lily was this happy on the first day, then that was all that mattered.

Three Months Later

Months flew by, and kids were getting ready for Thanksgiving holiday. She couldn’t believe that Christmas was around the corner and that it would be the first one she’d celebrate without her mom. David had always made a big deal out of the holidays, it was the one time of year where she didn’t have to worry about arguments, because heaven fucking forbid his parents see anything wrong with their marriage. Her Mom wanted to come out but she’d convinced her to stay in Boston with her younger sister but truth be told, she didn’t want anyone knowing where she was, including her mom.

She was a million miles away when her cell phone rang, picking it up, she saw it was the school and panicked. “Is Lily, ok?”

“Hi Mrs. Greyson, this is Mr. Morales. Lily’s fine but I was wondering if you had time to meet today? There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Um sure. After school?”

“Actually no. Can you come at 11:30 while Lily is at lunch?”

“Sure.”

“Great. See you then.”

Well, what the fuck was that all about?

“Come in Mrs. Greyson.” Frankie showed her to a chair in the conference room before sitting across from her, opening the manilla folder, a pen appearing from a shirt pocket. “Lily is doing great in class but when we were talking about Thanksgiving and where everyone was going and their favorite part of dinner, she said something disturbing and I want to get it cleared up. Something about not liking Thanksgiving because of being in the hospital? Does that make sense to you?”

Fuck, she thought. She didn’t think Lily would have remembered last year but apparently that was not the case. Shit. Fuck. Damn. “First it is not Mrs. I’m divorced, Greyson is my maiden name. Second, it was last year. I was um…” Fingers clenched into fists under the table, eyes dropping to the table, noticing the swirl marks in the polished wood. “There was an accident, I fell down the stairs and I was in the hospital for a few days. Lily was with my mother.” It was amazing how easy the lie fell from her lips. It was the same lie she’d told the police, her mother, her boss, basically anyone who asked. The doctors were the only ones who knew the truth and since she’d refused to press charges, there was nothing anyone could do.

“Ahhh, I see. Well thank you for clearing that up for me.” Something was off about the whole conversation, he thought. He noticed the way her head dropped, not looking him in the eye, the stiffness of her body, and he was willing to bet his paycheck that her nails were digging into her palms. It was almost as if she shrank into herself, ready to run given the chance. “Miss Greyson, Trinity, please know that if you or Lily need anything, we’re here for both of you. Lunch will be over soon so I have to get back to class before the kids but…” Taking a sheet of paper from the folder, he scribbled his number across the bottom and slid it towards her. “If you ever need anything, just give me a call.” Standing, he noticed the involuntary flinch when he extended his hand towards her, dropping it instantly.

“Thank you, Mr. Morales.” Holy crap she just wanted out of here right now.

“Please call me Frankie.” He helplessly watched as she practically ran from the conference room. Later that night, he fought the urge to call her, to check on the both of them, but he didn’t, wanting her to call on her own terms, when she was ready. On a hunch, he went onto his laptop and did some digging, but couldn’t find anything on her or Lily in Washington but then he remembered something in Lily’s file, that she’d been born in Massachusetts. He really shouldn’t be prying like this but he was attracted to her, had been since the minute he saw her. Blonde curly hair, beautiful green eyes, but the biggest attraction had been the way she was with Lily, hands on with everything but not overbearing or intrusive. Nothing was coming up for him in Boston and decided it was best to just leave things be for now.

She was more cautious now, simply out of habit. Her past had left not only emotional scars but physical ones as well, reminded every time she looked in the mirror, her back a crisscross of scars but every day that passed without any word from him or his family, allowed her to believe that she’d finally escaped, that she was safe. It was the last day of school before Christmas break, Frankie putting Lily in the backseat, that he asked her out. Just coffee. No pressure. Looking in the review mirror at Lily, her eyes wide, smile even wider as she nodded, that she said yes. Cue awkward conversation as he stammered for a second, before letting her know he’d call her later.

“Momma, can we have McDonald’s? I want a happy meal. Oh, can I have a playdate with Amy? She gave me her number. It will be fun and I can take my Barbies and LOL dolls and Patch can go.”

“Yes, Lily love. I can call Amy’s mom. Right now, how about we get home, have a snack and you can watch a movie while I finish work.”

Later that night, she was in bed when her phone rang, smiling a little when his number had come up. A nervous exchange of small talk ensued, the hi’s, how are you’s, what are you doing before they actually had real conversation. It was two hours of getting to know the other, the only thing she refused to talk about, dodging the question of where Lily’s dad was by changing the subject. When he asked her out for dinner, she was comfortable enough to say yes. Hanging up, she nestled against the pillows, wondering if this was worth anything, David’s words on repeat in her head.

They dated all through Christmas break but only when Lily was with her friends, Trinity not wanting to confuse anything for her. It was coffee first, a few lunches, dinner one night. She always met him, needing her car in case she had to go get Lily early but he knew there was something more, just beneath the surface, something she wasn’t ready to share. He gave her the space and time, wanting more with her but it needed to be on her terms. New Years came and went, so did the day every person dreaded, Valentines. She asked for nothing but he wanted to do something special, so flowers were delivered to her house but not the stand-by of roses, how cliché was that, remembering her favorites were daisies and snapdragons. Lunchtime had him sitting at his desk, eating a sandwich, scrolling through his phone when the phone vibrated, letting him know that she was calling, smile on his face as he answered.

“Hey, you. Didn’t expect to hear from you during lunch.”

“Well, I just got a surprise delivery so I figured I’d call the guy responsible.”

Leaning back in his chair, suddenly forgetting lunch, head back, staring at the ceiling. “So, you got the flowers?”

“I did. They’re beautiful. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I just wanted to remind you how amazing you are. Not a crime, right?”

“Well, consider me reminded. I was having one of those days, you know. You’ve got pretty good timing.”

“I know nothing with us is official but I just wanted to do something special.”

“You remembered my favorites.”

“I’m glad you like them. That’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Frankie. Really. See you at school?”

“I’ll see you this afternoon.”

“By the way, Lily is going to Amy’s tomorrow night, dinner at your place?”

“You’re on. 7?”

“It’s a date. Bye Frankie.”

“Bye Trin.”

Setting the phone down, heart still buzzing with the sound of her voice, he glances down at his half-eaten sandwich, grinning to himself.

“Mom, I already told you to meet us in Seattle. Please don’t argue, it’s just…We need to be safe, just a little while longer. Please do this for me.” She was frustrated, angry because her mom wanted to come for spring break to see her and Lily but she didn’t want her mom traveling here. “I promise I am safe right now but Mom if you can’t do this for me then I am not going to let you take Lily for spring break. Boundaries Mom, boundaries.” Her mom finally conceded, agreeing to meet her there, she’d spend the day with them before driving back. When the phone rang, she was still annoyed. “Mom I am not talking about this anymore.”

“Whoa wrong person. You, okay?”

“Frankie…I’m sorry. My mom is just being a little difficult about spring break.”

Again, something was wrong and again she was closing herself off. Every time they would take one step forward, something happened and he was right back at square one with her. It was enough to test the patience of a saint and he was no saint but he’d fallen so hard for her, but there was still that distance and he was trying to close it. She never talked about her life before moving here, always changing the subject when it came up and he always let it go. “Trin, you know you can talk to me, right? I am not asking for much here, just talk.”

“I know. There’s just…So I’m leaving to drive Lily down to Seattle on Friday since it’s early dismissal but I’ll be back Saturday if you want to have dinner?”

“Yea dinner sounds great. Same time?”

“Seven. Bye.”

“Bye.” Fucking hell, what the fuck was he doing? He was fucking pining for a woman that held him back at arm’s length. How much longer did he allow this shit to continue? He knew the answer before the question.

Dinner had gone off without a hitch until he brought up her past, when he could see her mentally and physically shutting down. Sighing he picked up their plates and went into the kitchen, hands grasping the counter, knuckles white, skin stretched tight as he heard her come in behind him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“There’s just things I can’t…”

“You won’t,” he interrupted, his frustration slipping though despite efforts to remain calm. A hand ran through his hair as he took a deep breath, turning to face her. That’s when it all clicked in his head and he became angry with himself for missing all the signs, things he was trained to look for. “What did he do to you?” The sudden jerk of her head, green hues piercing his and he knew the accusation was true. Her silence was deafening, and he wanted to shake her, to make her see how much she meant to him. But he also knew that pushing her too hard would only drive her further away.

Exhaling slowly, he moved towards her, reaching out, gently cupping her face in his hands. Her skin was cold to the touch, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t. “I’m here, Trin. Not going anywhere,” he said softly, brushing his thumb along her cheek. Lips gently brushed against hers, “Let me in baby.”

Closing her eyes, she leaned into his touch, wanting to desperately let go of the past, body shuddering as she whispered, “I don’t want to lose you.” Opening her eyes, gaze filled with longing but something deeper as well. A hand came up, palm resting against the back of the hand that cupped her cheek, amazed at how it felt. To have someone touch her without a hint of violence. Something shifted in her when he called her baby. This was a man who’d been so patient with her, so understanding and she was pushing him away because she was scared when he’d done nothing to earn that fear. Hand moved from his, cupping the back of his neck, she brought him down to her, kissing him, the tip of her tongue running along his bottom lip, hearing a low growl, both arms wrapping around her waist, he held her close as he carried her to his room.

When his knees hit the edge of the mattress, he laid her down, wanting to commit everything to memory as fingers traced along her cheek, moving across her lips, watching her expressions with each touch, kiss, lick of his tongue. Hands grabbed the bottom of her shirt, pushing it up, kissing the contours of her stomach, protruding hip bones, visible stretch marks but when he sat her up to take off her shirt, she scooted away from him, a single finger pressing against his lips, before she presented him her back, lifting the fabric up and off, flesh a myriad of scars. Sitting behind her, he unclasped her bra, pushing the straps down her shoulders, fingers tracing over each one. He didn’t understand how someone could be so brutal to another human. Fingers lightly grabbed her chin, turning her head towards him. “You’re so beautiful.” Standing, he pulled her up, stripping her naked before himself, settling once more on the bed, back against the headboard, he settled her between his legs, kissing the ends of the scars that went across her shoulders. One hand played with her nipples as the other moved up her thigh, finding her clit. He wanted this to be about her, to show her how beautiful he thought she was, despite what she thought about herself.

Legs opened further, erection pressing against her ass, he slid one finger into her, feeling how wet she was for him. He wanted her, more than he wanted anything else in this world. He wanted to see her face when she came, to see how beautiful she was when she was a desperate mess. His name was a murmur from her lips, fingers holding tight the hair at the nape of his neck, as her hips moved against the palm of his hand. Her body exploded, orgasm soaking his hand, as he gently slowed down, hearing her whimper when he pulled his fingers out of her.

She’d never had anyone pay as much attention to her body as he just did. It was like every guy she’d been with, a total of three, almost four, was too busy chasing their own orgasm to worry about her. With David, it had become more of a chore than a want, praying so hard that he would just get it over with so she could shower. This? This was so different. Turning around to face him, legs draped over his thighs, his stare so intense, she could feel it in her soul. She didn’t say a word, as she straddled him, thighs squeezing his, hips moving against him before he slid into her. She could feel a hand at her hip while the other tucked a curl behind her ear, never once did his eyes leave hers. He watched her as they moved together, not one more than the other. She wanted to this to be something she’d never forget, no matter what happened between them. He was letting her know that she was beautiful, wanted, cared for, possibly loved. Did those words mean something? Yes, to anyone who wanted to feel that emotion but all she could focus on right now was him, beneath her. Arms wrapped around each other as he lavished attention to sensitive nipples, suckling at them, it was like a tight rope between them, and she was the first to fall. He came right after her, seed scalding her insides as he whispered that he didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop. When her head dropped to his shoulder, pressing kisses against the skin, he just held her as she cried. Silent tears of just letting go of all of it. The past, the hurt, the rage…It was cleansing, cathartic, forgiving.

Two days later, pulling into the garage, phone tucked between shoulder and cheek, she hadn’t noticed that the alarm didn’t beep when she opened the door leading inside. Hadn’t noticed anything until she was violently shoved forward, losing balance, falling face first into the hardwood floor. Pain radiated the entire expanse of her chest as foot connected with ribs, body flipped over before he was on top of her, a violent hand expanding over her neck as she clawed at it, before the other backhanded her. Vision blurred as lungs burned. In that second, she thanked God. Thanked him because her child wasn’t here to see blood trickling from lips that kissed her goodnight. Hair wrapped in a fist pulled her from the floor before slamming her into the wall, arms pinned above her head as he screamed in face, all the names that were his favorite. Whore. Slut. Bitch. Cunt. The names weren’t new. She’d heard them all before, but this time, it felt like they were etched into her skin, branded across her soul. He demanded to know where she’d been, who she’d been fucking, where his child was. When she refused to answer, meaty fist went through drywall before body met wood, skin met skin, trying to stay conscious. Just as quickly it started, it had ended. Instinct curled body into a ball, protecting vital organs, hands cupping her head, screams torn from lungs as hands touched her, not registering who they belonged to, her name called over and over. The voice wasn’t filled with hate. It was warm, familiar, calm, soothing, gentle, arms around her in a protective embrace. They didn’t tear at her or bruise her. They weren’t meant to hurt.

He heard it all. The name calling. Cries of pain. Poisonous words of hate spewed out as if they were part of normal conversation. His heart dropped, adrenaline hitting him hard, like ice water in his veins. The panicked cry of her voice, left him only one clear, primal instinct—get to her.

Hands shook with rage and fear as he sped through side streets. "FUCK?!" He barked into the phone, his mind racing through possibilities, but no answer came. "NO!" His voice broke, thoughts a chaotic mess, bouncing between fury and terror. His foot pressed harder on the gas as flashes of her—bruised, terrified—ran through his mind. The rage welled up so fiercely he could barely breathe. Clenching the steering wheel so tight, knuckles turned white, streets flying by in a blur, every second feeling like an eternity. All he could think about was her.

When he finally reached the house, he barely stopped the car before jumping out, sprinting toward the door, trying to open it before he gave up and kicked it in. “Let her go!” Frankie shouted, rushing towards the man that was on top of her, a haze of red clouded his vision as he punched him, over and over until he was unconscious. Moving towards her, heart shattering at what he saw and when he reached for her, the blood curdling screams tore from her body, broke him even more. Picking her up, he moved into the living room, setting her down on his lap as he sat on the couch. Pressing a kiss to her temple, he moved her, anger fresh as he watched her wince. Going back into the kitchen, he picked up her phone, his still in his truck, calling 9-1-1 and while he spoke to dispatch, he began looking for something to bind his hands before he killed the fucker

Her home became a hive of activity, David led away in handcuffs, digging himself a bigger hole as hate fueled threats were thrown at everyone. EMS had her a gurney, trying to ask questions, eyes vacant of any emotion, she said nothing. He’d pieced what he could together for the cops, letting them know he’d take care of the door before he was left alone in the middle of the living room. He wanted to go with her but the medics wouldn’t let him, family only, letting him know where they were taking her. When he was finally allowed to see her, she was sleeping, given pain meds and a sedative. Bruises began to blossom on her cheeks, hands prints could be seen on the slim column of her neck, skin red and angry. No broken or fractured ribs but all of that would heal. It was what it would do to her mentally and emotionally that worried him the most.

It hurt. That was the first thought she had when she woke up. It hurt, everywhere. Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton and grit, throat raw and sore from screaming, pleading. Head was pounding as though a hammer had taken up residence in her skull, the sterile smell of antiseptic burning her nostrils. Blinking a few times, vision blurry, she tried to focus, body heavy, every breath an effort, every movement, reminding her of what happened. That is when eyes fell on Frankie, sitting in the chair next to her bed, elbows on knees, hands clenched together, face looking tired. “Hey.”

He jerked upright, eyes wide with relief. “Trin… you’re awake.” His voice was hoarse, thick with emotion he barely concealed. He shifted closer, the chair scraping the floor slightly as he leaned toward her, his hand tentatively reaching out, gently taking it in his. "How do you feel?"

“I hurt," she managed with a faint, grim smile. The effort hurt, but seeing Frankie there, watching over her, soothed the ache, if only a little. “Where is he?”

“Jail. He violated parole. They are keeping him here. The police want to talk to you about what happened.” For a long moment, neither spoke. The machines continued their rhythmic beeping, but all he could focus on was the warmth of her hand in his. “I called your mom, she wanted to come up here with Lily but I convinced her not to. She said for you to call her when you’re up so you could talk to Lily. Said something about keeping Lily in Seattle until you’re feeling better. Gonna have to think of something to tell her unless…”

“I’m going to tell her the truth. She knows her father is not a nice man, she’s seen more than she should have, I just always figured she’d forgotten but what you said last year, made me realize she hadn’t. I’m not going to lie for him but I have to ask you something. This is more than what you signed up for, are you sure that all of this is something you want?” She needed to give him a way out, an escape. It would hurt more than the bruises and sore muscles but this was so much for someone to want to deal with. She didn’t want to lose him, not when she loved him so very much.

“Yes. I know you think you’re broken but broken is beautiful. You’re beautiful and I want to spend the rest of my life showing you and Lily that.” Whoa. Wait. What? Did he just say the rest of his life? Fuck yes, he did. It didn’t mean they had to get married, that was just paperwork. It was being there for her and her daughter, wanting to be with them, that she was worthy of being loved.

In the weeks that followed, she realized something profound, she wasn’t just safe with Frankie; she was loved. He had seen her at her most vulnerable, and even when she’d given him an out, he didn’t take it. Instead, he had stayed, offering her and Lily the kind of love they had been missing for so long.

Their relationship deepened as they spent more time together, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to imagine a future. Of peace, calm, where they felt safe. Where someone made her feel like she could finally heal. He wasn’t just a protector, he was her partner, seeing her for who she really was. Strong, independent, a mom, a fiancé, a woman who was delivered from violence.

#frankie morales #orginal character #triple frontier au #pedro pascal #writing challenge #ao3 writer

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merrock · 8 months ago

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event: Creek Fest

location: Hideaway Market

date & time: September 21-28; 10AM - 10PM

ooc duration: same times!

It's that time of year again -- Creek Fest! The tents and booths are all set up, the tractors full of hay and ready to cart you around, and we here in Merrock and at Hideaway Market are ready to welcome in fall the best way that we know how! Big to note: both the Merrock Community College and Merrock School District have decided to close on Thursday (September 26th) and Friday (September 27th) to give families more time to enjoy the event.

All of Hideaway Market is open for the week, with many of the shops and businesses offering specials and sales if you stop in. Some even have refreshments or gifts for the kids! All around the market place, you will find food and drink tents and booths and tents full of local goodies brought out by our own Merrockites. Plenty to eat and drink, and lots of shopping to be done!

For the kids, we recommend checking out the corn pit, participating in the scavenger hunt, getting their faces painted (adults are welcome, too!), jumping in on a game of corn hole, or taking a walk over to The Meadows, where a number of 'sports stations' have been set up for kids and adults alike who want to play.

For the adults (or kids looking to do something more mature), we have plenty of things for you to get involved in. You can paint or carve your own pumpkins, stuff your own scarecrows, make wreaths and flower arrangements, decorate fall themed t-shirts or paint your own ceramics! Lavender Lane has also opened their seasonal operation, where they will be selling mums, pumpkins and various other fall flowers and plants.

The tractor will be available to take people to Harmony Ranch where you can jump into the corn maze or sunflower maze, buy your dairy products and fresh produce, or visit the petting zoo and pony rides! You can also take a tractor to Sunrise Orchard to pick all of the apples that your heart can ever want.

And of course, the name sake of Creek Fest -- Black Creek's walking trails have been freshened up and marked, so you can take a hike with your honey to see the falls, or maybe get your photos taken by one of our local photographers at one of the more scenic spots. We are also selling t-shirts, mugs, bags and more 'souvenir style' gifts at the Historical Society booth, with proceeds going towards the conservation and upkeep of our beautiful creek. If you need help while wandering the grounds, stop by the Community Center tent.

UNDER THE CUT you will find all of the local Merrockites participating in Creek Fest, whether they are selling goods, or showing off a talent, as well as a list of performances through the week. Enjoy! xx

BOOTHS / BUSINESSES / DISPLAYS:

Art Sale (Ryder Anderson)

Bardales Inc.

BeadsByJay

Creekside Carpentry & Construction

Harmony Healers

Ojīchan no sushi reshipi

Taste

Newman Family Farm

Universal Rocks

Cyanotopes (Greyson McVey)

Bonne Merde

PERFORMANCES:

Saturday, September 21: country bluegrass band.

Sunday, September 22: Stelly Carter.

Monday, September 23: Chetan Gupta.

Tuesday, September 24: Jamie & Sylvia.

Wednesday, September 25: Unknown Destination.

Thursday, September 26: Cordelia Browning.

Friday, September 27: Monique O'Connor.

Saturday, September 28: local cover band.

ADMIN NOTE: if you would like your business to be represented, or your character to be involved, all that you have to do is post something to show what they're offering. This does not need to be a big, elaborate post! It can be something as simple as an eye-catching photo of a leaf with a description of what you're doing. I will reblog your post + add it to the list here. I have also left open two spots on the performances that can be filled if you are interested, but you must send an ask to claim them. Again, however you represent your performance is up to you! Thanks, guys! xx

#merrockevent

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bookishtheaterlover7 · 1 year ago

Text

Her Reign

a/n: Hello, my Fabulous Readers! Would you like to take a trip down Memory Lane with me? Boy, do I have a treat for y'all...

When I was just starting to write my fanfics 8 - 9 years ago, before I fell into major Writer's Block, and went on my forced Hiatus, I wrote this fic for a good friend. Because back then, she drew Steve fanart for me, and I wrote Loki fics for her.

Fast forward to this year, I'm looking through my old notes in my notes apps, low and behold I find a handful of fic ideas and half-written, unfinished fics. And honestly, young me literally had the best fic ideas 😆 I realize that they're basically my very own Vaults! They couldn't have came on a better time, when I want to connect to my younger self, and remember what it was like, when life wasn't as complicated.

Ofcourse, it's not completely the original story, present me needed to polish the rough patches in the story, because specific timeline when this was written, was roughly somewhere before Endgame after Infinity War...😅 And I also need to make sure, it's semi-accurate to the current MCU, for my own sake.

But still, I hope y'all will enjoy reading this one, all the same.

Loki Odinson x Y/n Y/L/N's Daughter, Lucy Laufeyson

Requested: No

WARNINGS: Loki's Death(seriously doesn't need to be a question😆), Abusive, cliché Evil Step-parent, Allusion to the abuse Y/n goes through, Lucy imagining and enacting revenge(and justice) on Evil Step-Parent, Lucy goes ape-shit, Loki would be proud. Story goes way dark(not GOT Dark, but still, pretty dark). Written by me, when I was still fairly new to writing, so sorry for the errors present Me isn't able to fix.

DNI Divider by @firefly-graphics

Enjoy!

Loki looking at Lucy from Valhalla...

It was a typical day for the Avengers in the Avenger Compound. Agents of every kind, rushed here and there, to finish their duties. In one of the lower floors underground, lived the Avengers. Each had their own apartment. But they liked to spend time together, in the common room. And today was no exception.

The room was full of chaos. From the sounds of a certain Captain's daughter crying, because she fell down while attempting to walk, with her doting mother and older brother trying to calm her down, to Peter Parker, Bruce Banner and Dr. Stephen Strange devising a way to make their tactical suits more durable, and more accommodating to the various shapes and sizes each individual, human, alien or super, has.

Lucy Laufeyson is among the chaotic bunch. Born and raised together with James Anthony Rogers, making her pretty much used to everything that happens around here, around her considered-extended family. She'd been living with the Avengers and her Uncle Thor Odinson, in an effort to avoid her Step-Father, Grey Wallace. Well, specifically to avoid hurting, said man.

From the moment her grandmother, from her mother, Y/n Y/L/N's side, had told her that she was to have a Step-Father, she knew that it would take a lot of strength and maturity. For she knew Gray wasn't a good man. He abused her mother and basically, forced her to have his child. Luckily, Lucy could never hate her younger Brother, Greyson. She hated his sperm donor.

Before Loki died, he had written a note to every member of his family. For Thor, Y/n, and especially Lucy. The one for her, specified that he wanted Thor to take his family to New Asgard, where he hoped to be laid to rest.

Once his request was fulfilled, she decided to take her father's name and use it to make a legacy of her own in her new home. Despite this, it didn't stop her from imagining enacting her revenge on Grey. She hated everything he did to her mother, and today is living proof of that.

"Hey James. Nice shield." Lucy smirked, it looks uncannily like her Father's.

"Oh, Lucy... Hi... I-I-I was just borrowing this from Dad." James answered, turning pinker by the minute.

"Calm down, Rogers. I was just teasing." Lucy said, playfully boxing his arm.

"Besides, I'm not here as often as I used to. Just for old times sake."

"Sometimes I wonder how we've been friends, since birth." James sighed.

"Come on... you know you love me, Cap Jr." Lucy smirked again, living for the reaction she gets, from her dear sweet James.

"Excuse me, Ms. Laufeyson, but Ms. Alexa is here." Tony's AI, JAKASTA, said.

"Thanks, JAKASTA." Lucy replied.

"See you later, Rogers." She added, patting the side of his pink face on her way out.

Lucy walked from the training room, through endless hallways, with Agents working and training, as well as the scientist conducting tests and experiments, of all kinds, to the elevator, that will take her down to the Lobby. Her heart leapt with excitement. She always loved seeing her Mother, and her younger Brother, whenever they came for a visit. Preferably without her infamous Step-Father, who in her opinion, descended straight from Hell.

A few minutes later, she arrived at the Lobby, where she knew the people her Family, would be waiting. She pushed open the only door, separating her from the Lobby, and saw her mother for the first time in months. Beautiful but bruised and slightly battered. Loki would hate Grey.

"Mom!" Lucy called.

"Hello Lucy." Y/n replied, looking up from talking to Y/O/N Rogers, her best friend since before meeting the loves of their lives.

Lucy walked a little faster and went to give her mother a gentle but firm hug.

"What am I? A chameleon? Where's my hug?!" Lucy's younger brother, Greyson, asked/exclaimed.

"Hello to you, too, Baby Brother." Lucy smirked, going in to hug her sibling.

"It's always a gem, to see you both together like this!" Alexa cried, tears forming in her eyes.

"We really need to catch up." Greyson said with a smile, taking Lucy's hand.

Sometime later, the family sat in a restaurant downtown, enjoying the food and coffee, while catching up and sharing stories with one another.

"And he just ran and ran and BOOM! Homerun!" Alexa finished, with pride in her eyes as she looked at her son.

"It was nothing, really. Honest." Greyson said, blushing at the attention.

"Changing the subject, how are you and your so-called 'childhood bestfriend, not potential lover', Dear Sister." Greyson teased.

"I told you the last time, Greyson. We're just friends. Nothing more. Nothing less." Lucy replied, as a matter of factly.

"Now, why don't I believe that?" Greyson muttered, under his breath.

"Shut up." Lucy replied, with a playful shove towards him.

"It's so nice to see you both getting along." Alexa said, wistful.

"I would be happier if that lousy excuse of a Step-Father is six feet under and never ever coming back." Lucy commented, scooping up some of her food into her mouth.

"Lucy-" Alexa started, wiping her eyes, before opening her arms towards her daughter.

"I mean it, Mom. He's hurt you enough." Lucy replied.

"Dad wouldn't want this for you..." She added, taking her Mother's hand, and rolling up the sleeve a little to reveal the marks hidden underneath.

"Sorry, Mom. But I agree with Lucy. If he hadn't hurt you, and continued to hurt you, things might've been different." Greyson replied, as Y/n pulled her hand away, and pulled her sleeves down, even further than before.

"I know three days ago wasn't the best wedding anniversary..." She started to explain.

"WHAT THE HELL DID HE DO THIS TIME?!" Lucy exclaimed, her anger boiling up to the surface.

"It's nothing, Lucy." Alexa sighed.

"It isn't just nothing, Mom! It's always something." Lucy raised her voice. Her eyes being drawn to the sleeve that her Mother, so desperately, was using to try to hide the marks from her, earlier.

"This is the last straw! He's been doing this ever since you married him. It needs to stop." Lucy announced, with finality and determination.

"Lucy, no. It's fine. I'm used to it." Alexa replied, unshed tears glistening in her eyes.

"I told you, Mom. He's hurt you enough." Lucy repeated, before standing up.

"I've had enough." She growled, before walking away with purpose and determination, with Y/n's and Greyson's voices calling behind her. Falling on deaf ears.

Grey Wallace was walking from his office building to his car. It had been a long day, and he was looking forward to having a beer when he got home. He was practically skipping down the road, until he felt like someone was watching him, from the shadows. Shrugging it off as paranoia, he continued walking.

He finally arrived at his car, ready to unlock it when he was forcefully, pushed against his car. His arms painfully pinned against his back.

"Who are you? What do you want? If you want my money, take it. I-It's yours." Grey said in a panic, words coming out in quick succession.

"I don't want, nor do I need your money." The figure, behind him, replied.

"Then, w-what do you want?" Grey asked again, shaking to the bone.

"I want justice for my Mother." The figure replied, a sinister smile slowly beginning to form on her face.

"I-I don't even know y-your Mother." Grey cried, before being turned around, and pinned to the side of his car.

"Oh, don't act coy, now... You know my Mother... In fact you know her very well, that you've taken to hurting her for about 5 years, now. Isn't that right, Step-Father?" The figure said, her face coming into the light.

"Lu-Lucy..." Grey gasped, not believing his eyes.

"That's right. And I have come to make sure you'll never lay another hand on my Mother, ever again." Lucy said, before turning into her Jotun form and punching her Step-Father.

Grey's world turned black.

His eyes burst open, and he quickly looked around in a panic. Remembering the terrifying sight of his Step-Daughter, before she knocked him unconscious. He sighed in relief, when he found that he's all alone in his Hospital Room.

"Think you're safe, Step-Father?" Lucy said, appearing out of nowhere.

"Lucy... Lucy... Whatever I've done to you and Y/n, I'm sorry." Grey pleaded.

"You think that's enough?! You think that sorry will take away all you've done to her?! To the both of us?!" Lucy exclaimed, her bright green eyes turning red.

"You're lucky, I only left you with a concussion, and a punctured lung. I would have killed you on the spot, had I not made myself promise Mom not to hurt you too badly." She added.

"Lucy, please I beg you..." Grey begged.

"Oh, now you're begging me." Lucy cackled.

"Like how Mom begged you to let her go, every single hellish night..." She continued, her features slowly changing.

"Lucy, you need help. Y-you don't look well. Y-you're blue!" Grey exclaimed.

"Oh, don't pretend like you care. You never did." Lucy snapped.

"Why are you turning blue?!" Grey shrieked, panicked, his monitor blaring at his increasing heartrate.

"Let me answer your question with this question: Have you ever wondered why we never told you about my birth Father? Why no one ever spoke of him?" Lucy said, lightly caressing the tube that re-inflated his lung.

"Well, the answer is quite simple actually. I'm the daughter of Loki of Asgard." Lucy said, turning full Jotun, and staring right into Grey's eyes.

"Y-You-You're the daughter of Loki Laufeyson, the one who invaded the planet?" Grey asked, trying to scurry away but couldn't. bound to the bed by the very tubes and wires that are helping him.

"Yes. So, if I were you... I'd be glad, that I spared your life. I may seem all sweet and innocent, but trust me when I say this..." Lucy added, slightly squeezing the tube. Blocking it from keeping his lung inflated.

Grey started to feel a tightness in his chest. Unable to catch his breath, from fear, and distress.

"I'm so much worse than my Father. So much worse." Lucy growled. Releasing her grip on the tube.

Allowing Grey to finally able to relax and breathe better and regularly, now.

"You're just lucky I made a promise to my Mother. Had I not, I would have done so much worse." Lucy added, getting up and leaving.

"Leave my Mother alone, or a collapsed lung and concussion won't be the most excruciating thing you'll ever experience." Lucy said, turning back to look at him.

"I give you my word, Step-Father." She added, turning into back her human form, her eyes glowing red for a second before going back to green.

Grey shook with fear, causing Lucy to smirk. And with that, she turned and left.

Lucy walked through the hospital doors and out, before opening a portal in the middle of the driveway and walking through it. Taking her home to New Asgard.

When she stepped out of the portal, her red leather jacket, stripped sleeveless blouse, leggings and boots, instantly turned into a long, green, mermaid style dress with a shimmering light green cape, connected in the back.

Her raven black hair curled, pulled back, half up, half down, and a complicated gold head piece with it. She walked to the kingdom, where everyone who saw her, bowed respectfully.

She made her way into the Palace, where her Keeper eagerly greeted her at the entrance. For a man, who was about 1,000 years old, give or take, he definitely could keep up with Lucy's long strides.

"Your Ladyship! The King has gone to Wakanda on business, but there are some matters of great importance to attend to." The man explained, pointing to the long list of matters, needing her immediate attention.

"I shall deal with all the problems one by one. I want to make sure everything is dealt with, accordingly." Lucy announced, taking a seat on the throne.

"Lady Loki, the people are waiting for you." The court announcer told her.

"Send them in." She answered, as the guards allowed the people to come inside. Which little by little, she solved all of them. Loki's Daughter, Y/n and Greyson's fiercest protector, Asgard's warrior, and Valkyrie's Right Hand, Lady Lucy.

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed it! Despite the errors, and the dark stuff... Maybe this'll lead me to upload other, more worthy fics in the Future.

We'll see.

Until next time!

❤ Booky

Taglist: @nescavaneck @jiyascepter @royalwriteroftheuniverse @femefetalelevelingup

#tom hiddleston #loki imagines #loki x y/n #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddelston loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki laufeson imagines #loki fanfic #loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki odinson imagines #tom hiddlston imagines #booky's written works #booky's trip dowm memory lane

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