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darknight3904 · 1 month ago

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All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Joel's arrival in Jackson has the past twenty years of memories spilling into his mind like an uncontrollable flood of pain and regret.

Warnings: Langauge in line with the show, child death, Joel has a peeping tom moment, but we'll have to forgive him. Mentions of virginity.

Word Count: 3.5k

Previous Part / Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Winter 2023

Joel swears his heart has stopped the moment his eyes meet yours. His name falls from your lips and suddenly he's 35 again, laughing with you in coffee shops and holding you close on his couch during movie nights.

How long had his subconscious wished for over the years? How long had he been yearning like this?

Here you are in Jackson, right in front of him. You're a mere 15 feet from him, dressed in oversized overalls and an old winter coat that's seen better days.

Thick rubber boots are on your feet, giving you the illusion you're taller than you truly are.

Even as you stand there, a shovel in your hands as you clear a horse's stall, you're breathtaking.

Joel stumbles a bit as Ellie's words fall on deaf ears. You're looking at him, examining the man before you. Joel feels the way your eyes slink across his face and down his body, almost as if you didn't recognize him.

He finds himself doing the same to you. Trying to put two and two together. Joel's brain tries to replace the version of you that stands before him with the one that has been living in his mind for the past twenty years.

You had been immortal in his eyes. Forever fresh in your youth, a spirited twenty-something who'd captured his heart oh so long ago.

But now he sees he's wrong in that aspect. The beginnings of wrinkles have started in at your eyes, he can see the faintest of smile lines on your face. If he squints he can even see the beginnings of greys in your hairline. Yes, you're different, yet still so familiar.

"Joel? Hello? Do you know her?" Ellie's voice has him nearly jumping out of skin.

His tongue darts out from his mouth to wet his lips, guilt wells up in his chest, guilt from the past and for what he's about to say. It damn near breaks his heart, but the words come anyway, like vomit he can't control,

"No, I don't know her."

August 29, 2003

The past week had been a blur for Joel. Running around to different job sites and soccer practices and games had both his truck's gas tank and him running on empty.

He hadn't had much time to talk to you recently. Either you'd been busy or he had been. Be it classes or work, responsibilities were catching up to both of you.

Joel had read all your texts and listened to your voicemails. Your girlish voice filled his ears as you left inhumanly long messages to tell him about your entire day. From annoying professors to the fat squirrel that slept in the tree outside your window, you told him your days as if he'd been there as well.

"My birthday is today! I got pizza coming and cheap beer. See you later!"

Your warm voice fills Joel's room as he listens to your message from earlier today. He sighs and falls back onto his bed, his phone beeping to let him know the message was done.

You were so forgiving. Joel knew so many women who'd wring their man a new one if they'd been half as busy as he was this past week.

Your gentle and forgiving nature only reminded him of your youth. How truly young and impressionable you were turning out to be.

Joel ran a hand across his weary face. What the fuck was he doing? Messing around with some college kid? Taking her virginity and then practically playing house with her and Sarah for crying out loud.

Guilt swarmed in his chest as he jumped into the shower, hoping the warm water would clear his head.

It was going on eight thirty by the time he was dried off and dressed.

Joel sat in the driver's seat of his truck, the engine idling loudly as he willed his hand to shift the gear into reverse.

He couldn't do this. He was sure of it now as his sharp gaze stared back in the rearview mirror.

Joel was certain he'd ruin your life if he stuck by your side, fear of his own feelings had him moving. He pulled the keys from the ignition and exited his truck. Slamming the door behind him, he fumbled with the keys to his front door, his mind only replaying one thing.

This was all for the best. For you and for him.

October 2, 2003

He couldn't breathe. It was as if the entire universe was trying to strangle him alive.

His head throbbed as he tried to block out the loud clamor of the military. The whirl of helicopters and the rumble of tanks filled his ears as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Warm blood filled the fresh bandage someone had wrapped around his head just a few moments ago. The wound on his head burned as he squeezed tighter.

Perhaps if he could just shut his eyes tight enough, the nightmare would be over. The smell of diesel filled his nose as he clenched his fists at his side.

If he prayed hard enough, it'd be gone, all of it, the military, the horrible wound on his head, the snarl of whatever monsters were lurking outside this First Aid tent he was stuck lying under.

Joel wanted to go home, to Sarah. He wanted to eat pancakes and watch movies on his couch until she fell asleep in his lap. He wanted to drink coffee while Sarah read the Saturday cartoons in the paper, laughing at the ones she loved.

He wanted to spin you around his kitchen in the middle of the night again, dancing to music only the two of you heard. He missed the sweet smell of your perfume and how it'd cling to the sheets after you left his side to get up for the day.

Joel couldn't breathe, the universe was choking him, strangling him alive, and all he wanted was to go home, home to his girls.

Boston, Fall 2022

Tepid water ran over his hands as he tried to clean the blood from his knuckles. He could hear Tess, rummaging around their tiny apartment, most likely looking for something to take the swelling out of Joe's right hand.

"We've got Asprin that expired back in 06'." She said, entering the bathroom, "Unless you wanted to dip into our stash."

Joel thinks about the large bag of pills under their bed and he shakes his head, They'll need all of those to make enough to buy that battery they'd been after for so long.

He pops an Asprin and lets her bandage his hand, trying to ignore the way his skin stings when she pours a bit of whiskey over the wounds.

"Next time don't do this." She sighs as she finishes dressing his knuckles.

"I wasn't the one who started it." Joel hums

Tess rolls her eyes at his comment.

"You could just walk away, y'know." She points out

"And let the entire QZ think they can get away with talking about you like that? About any woman like that? Those guys are-"

"They're like 17, Joel. Weren't even alive when the world ended. Beating them to a pulp isn't solving anything." Tess chastizes

Joel lets out a slight grunt before following her out of the bathroom. He knew she was right, there wasn't a point in beating up a few kids who didn't know their manners.

"Gonna go look for a new pair of boots, mine are shot." He says as he wanders over to the door, "Y'need anything?"

Her loud no fills his ears as he shuts the door behind him.

The Boston QZ is littered with colorful leaves as Joel walks along the sidewalk. FEDRA officers walk along "patrolling" the area.

The loud whoop of two young kids has his ears perking up as a loud hiss and yelp of an animal follow.

Joel peers down an alleyway to find two young kids, looming over a black cat. They tug at the animal's tail as it swats at them.

"Hey."

The gruffness of his voice bounces off the surrounding buildings. They turn to look at him before glancing at each other.

"Leave it."

The kids scamper off and Joel is met with big green eyes and a loud meow, as if the animal is thanking him.

The cat pads over and slinks between his legs, rubbing its face against Joel's shins. He sighs deeply and bends down a bit, listening to the way his knees pop as he scratches behind the animal's ears. He tries to think of the last time he saw an animal this gentle, had to have been back before everything fell to shit.

The fuzzy image of a fat black cat with green eyes and a gold and green collar fills his mind, followed by the soft cooing of a voice that haunts Joel only in the middle of the night once Tess has fallen asleep.

Joel recoils from the cat as if it's burned him somehow. It meows again but Joel ignores it. He turns from the alley and back onto the main sidewalk. His head spins as if he's got a bad case of vertigo.

You're everywhere all at once. As if it's magic you've taken over Boston. You take over his mind for the first time in so many years. The cool fall breeze sings your name as the trees dance with the idea of you. His head swarms as he tries to push it all back.

The memories, your laughter, your scent, you, it's as if you're back, back from the dead to taunt him. God, he had buried you so long ago, he'd let you go the way he'd let Sarah go. Back in Texas, he'd left both of you there, sitting in the past, untouched and undisturbed by what life was now.

You were a storm he'd never see the end of.

November 2023

Ellie watches as the warm light from the campfire reflects off Joel's face. They were in the middle of no where and her companion and protector had finally given in to the idea of heat in the cold November night.

"You ever have a girlfriend? Or wife?" Ellie asks, her bold voice filling the silence.

It had been a question nagging at her for a while now. Joel just seemed so solitary. She couldn't imagine him with anyone like that.

Joel shoots her a look from across the fire.

She hesitates for a moment before continuing, "Or boyfriend?"

Joel gives her another look as if she's truly losing it. Maybe she was, after all, she'd been stuck with him for months now, and traveling the country was enough to make anyone go mad.

He takes a deep breath before fixing his eyes on the burning logs in front of them.

"I've...had both. Wife, girlfriend."

Ellie feels her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. The girlfriend thing wasn't all that shocking considering Joel had been alive before the world was fucked.

"Got married young." Joel sighs, "Got divorced maybe a year after that."

"Oh, shit, sorry." Ellie finds herself saying, suddenly feeling bad about asking.

Joel shakes his head, and his gruff voice fills the air, dismissing her worries, "Doesn't matter now."

Ellie slowly nods and her eyes scan Joel's face. She can tell he's holding something back.

"What about the girlfriend?" She asks, the words tumbling out, "Were you and Tess...?"

Joel huffs a breath, still not looking at her, "Tess and I...we....forget about it."

Ellie nods again, figuring he'd want to drop the subject now. Joel didn't like talking about his past with her.

"Only ever had one girlfriend that ever really mattered. Screwed it up though, right before the world went to shit too. " He said staring into the flames as if they'd come to life and jump out to burn him. "She uh...she was really the only relationship that actually mattered to me."

Even above his wife?

Ellie kept that thought in, contrary to popular belief, she did have a filter.

"What happened to her?" She asks instead, curious as to where this mystery girl was now.

"I don't know." Joel says sadly, "She uh...I haven't seen her since before the outbreak. Just always presumed she was y'know...gone."

Ellie nods sympathetically, "Maybe it's better like that...you've only got the good memories of her then."

A beat of silence passes between the two of them before Joel's eyes finally leave the fire and meet Ellie's.

"Yeah...maybe." He sighs

Winter 2023

You watch from a crack in your curtains as Maria shows Joel and the girl to their home. How convenient it was that she had placed him right across the street from you.

Maria knew your history with Joel. Tommy had spilled the beans after arriving in Jackson a few years ago. God, he was annoying sometimes.

You remembered the day Tommy had walked through the gates of Jackson. You had nearly fainted when you saw the younger Miller brother alive and well before you.

You had always hoped he and Joel had survived. Of course, the new world was unpredictable and you never truly knew what happened to them.

The news of Sarah had shattered your heart into a million pieces. Tommy had told you over two steaming mugs of coffee in your house one day. Her name fell from his lips like it was some forbidden word, he'd get in trouble for saying. You couldn't bear to ask how Joel had handled it, you knew how much he'd loved his daughter.

Tommy had slowly walked you through how he and Joel ended up in Boston, and then eventually how he ran off to join the Fireflies and how he'd ended up here.

So many times he'd tried to beckon you to the radio to talk to Joel, who still thought you were dead. You'd pleaded with Tommy not to tell him you were still among the living.

So many years had passed yet you still couldn't process the enigma that was Joel Miller.

Joel couldn't sleep. The soft fabric of the mattress should've lulled him right off yet here he was, tossing and turning beneath the soft sheets.

He slipped out of bed and past Ellie's room. He could hear her snores through the closed door. At least one of them was getting rest, and frankly, she deserved it more than him.

He sat on his front porch step in the cold night air. Across the street, he could see the upstairs lights glow from your home. Tommy had told him you were across the way if he needed anything.

Joel had wanted to kill his brother for not saying anything about you. Tommy had just raised his hands in innocence and told him to talk to you before pointing the accusation at anyone.

Joel watched with wide eyes as you suddenly appeared. One of the illuminated windows turned out to be your bathroom.

He felt a nervous trickle of sweat roll down his back. He should go inside yet it was as if someone had glued his ass to the porch step.

He watched as you stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around your body as you brushed through your wet hair. It was longer than it used to be. Joel recalled that you'd had it tied neatly back earlier but now it was free, framing your face nicely. He couldn't help but wonder if it was still as soft as it was so many years ago when he used to card his fingers through it after you fell asleep beside him.

His brain once again urged him to go inside, were you even aware that your bathroom curtains were sheer? He'd have to tell you, after all, you deserved to have privacy.

Joel felt his heart squeeze as he watched the way you went about your nighttime routine. Brushing your hair and your teeth before reaching for some small pot of what looked like homemade moisturizer.

You were as beautiful as he remembered in all of the dreams that had visited him over the years. It was as if you were a ghost returning from the dead and back to his life, breathing fresh air into it.

He turns away in shame when you drop your towel to dry off. What the fuck was he doing, staring into your window like some creep? He's lucky you didn't spot him and shout out your window to all of Jackson that their newest edition, Joel Miller, was a pervert.

By the time he's gathered the courage to look back up, the light is off and you're gone. Joel lets out a long sigh, his breath mingling in the cool air.

What the fuck was he going to do now?

Next Part

Joel: Woah someone needs to tell reader about her sheer curtains!

Also Joel: I should sit and watch...right???

Comment to be added to the tag list. This tag list is not chapter by chapter, I carry the tags over to each part.

Tags:

@lunaticgurly @orcasoul @snowlycanroc @freythecrazyfae

@person-005

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #sarah miller #ellie williams #tommy miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #tess servopoulos #joel miller angst #pedro pascal

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bella-rose29 · 4 months ago

Text

Breathe

Elrond x gn!reader (Rings of Power)

not me coming out of my cave to post an Elrond fic then leave again 👀

also not me not writing anything for over a month (probably, I haven't counted) and then coming out with a near 5k fic oops

the original title for this was 'is he dead or not??? who knows' but I think this one is good too

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: I think I killed someone writing this/made them need a lobotomy so consider that a warning to anyone who's gonna read (sorry), mentions of death, war, wounds, a child crying, the photo I'm gonna use is a warning in and of itself, I think that's it?

I feel I should add that this fic is actually happy (eventually) 😂 I reread the warnings and thought 'oh oops'

tagging @oblivious-idiot and @uku-lelevillain but if anyone else wants to be tagged in future Elrond works then let me know!

You could not breathe.

It would eat you alive, all this waiting, chewing on your insides until it worked its way outward and left you but a shell of the person you used to be, and you wouldn’t have any way of stopping it. Your lungs felt tight as you cradled the head of a sobbing child, his mother dead after birthing him and his father out in the fray with the rest of the soldiers of Middle-Earth. He was young, had barely seen his homeland, let alone the world, and he had never seen war before. You were not so lucky as he - war had been your upbringing. You could fight as well as any other of the elven soldiers, but somebody was needed to look after those who could not, and so you had volunteered along with a small band of others: retired fighters and those looking to start out and join the ranks but were not quite good enough yet. You had trained them over the last few days that you had all spent in the safe hold, taking them through the basics of how to grip a sword and the best way to gut an Orc should they break through and make it to the doors of the underground cavern serving as your shelter.

The child in your lap had stopped sobbing, his cries turned to sniffles, and you carefully lifted his body to nestle into your side. He was too young for war, you thought again, taking in the small points of his ears and the lack of angles on his face. You attempted a smile, hoping it would comfort him a little as you pushed a strand of his hair behind an ear, and whispered to him. “All will be well. They will return to us victorious, and we shall have no need of too many more tears.”

“But how do you know?” Children were inquisitive, which most of the time you adored, but when you are attempting to raise the spirits of a boy who does not know if he will ever see his father again, the questions become rather irritating.

“Because I have seen many things, and because our armies are strong. They will defeat the darkness and bring light to our lands once more.” It was the best you could do when you did not truly know the answer. You had learned the art of rhetoric years ago, when Elrond Peredhel had first come to Lindon and had quickly discovered that for the elves to see past his half-elven status he would need to become invaluable, or risk being an outcast in the race he had chosen to be counted among. You had been the first to greet him, intrigued by this visitor from the Havens of Sirion when you had been born in Lindon and raised there, and he had been grateful for your tour and kindness. He had spent many an hour sat with you, commenting on his meetings and the politics of Lindon, and how he carefully navigated clashing personalities and difficult conversations, and so you had learned.

You used it now, that knowledge that Elrond had provided in all those hours, to comfort this child. He had since taken to playing with a stick on the floor next to him, leaning further away from your side to entertain himself as he drew patterns in the dirt, and it gave your lungs the much needed space to breathe a little more.

It had been hours and hours since the army had left, heading out onto the battlefield to meet Sauron’s forces, and you were getting impatient. Elrond had gone with them, determined to provide what help he could no matter your protests to him entering the fray. You had trained him up, knowing that he could hold his own but wanting to be sure that he would be alright, and when you had suggested that you go with him while tightening the straps of his armour he had placed his hands over yours (his hands were too soft - far too soft for someone about to go into battle), gently coaxing them from where they had fretted with the leather and returning them to your side with a sad smile. “You must stay here, melethel, and protect those who cannot fight.” The term of endearment never failed to heat your cheeks, or send a warmth up your neck and through your chest. “For my peace of mind, please stay here.” He had let go of your hands at that point, moving them up to rest on your shoulders as he looked into your eyes. A lock of hair had fallen over his face, and before you could think you were pushing it back into place, wondering if you had imagined him leaning into your touch that lingered a moment too long for two elves who were only friends and nothing more, his eyes fluttering closed for the barest fraction of a second before he was looking at you again, or if it had truly happened. What you were certain was real was the soft kiss he placed on your forehead, lips brushing the skin with such care and tenderness while his hands on your arms squeezed like you would disappear that it made your eyes sting with tears you refused to shed. Elrond would not see you cry, not now, not when there was a chance it could be the last-

No. You would not think that way. He would come back alive, and if he was hurt then you would stay by his side until he was healed, and then you would continue your lives as you had before - content and in friendship.

It wasn’t how you wanted things to be with Elrond, which was why you could not breathe. What if he was one of the fallen, and you never saw him smile again, or gaze in wonder at the golden leaves of Lindon or cast a wry glance your way in a council session when somebody said something he thought was silly and knew you would be thinking it too, your eyes already seeking him out? What if you never heard him sing again, or write poems about trivial matters that seemed so important to him? What if you never got to challenge him to a duel again, laughing when your swords clashed and rang out in the clearing you always fled to, and calling him a cheat for tickling you after you pinned him to the floor?

And what if you never told him how you truly felt? That from the moment he had seen you try not to show your tears after climbing too high in a tree and falling, grazing your knee and cutting your calf, and had rushed to your aid because that was what Elrond did, you had loved him. He had been so calm, so gentle that night, the lights of others long gone out as they dwelt in near darkness while your lanterns stayed lit as you gritted your teeth and washed the cut of dirt and bark. You had barely heard him come in, his knock as quiet as your tears, but when his hands wrapped around your own and took the cloth from you, dipping it again in the bowl of water to your side, you barely startled. He had not been in Lindon long and yet already you knew him and his movements as though they were your own, and you trusted him enough to see you so vulnerable, and from the way he had looked at you that night he knew it. Your love for him was strong and true and the greatest thing you had ever felt, and for years you had passed it off as a friendship so powerful that the bond between you was unbreakable. You had friendships like that with others, so it would not have been out of the ordinary to have one more person whom you would love unconditionally until your light died, but when he had been kneeling by your side and cleaning the gash on your calf with a tenderness you had only read about, you had known it was different.

The child beside you now dropped his stick, the movement bringing you out of your thoughts as he scrambled instead to his feet and started to push through the gathered people to make for the doorway.

The doorway which was now opening, a messenger stepping through. You stood up, air catching in your throat and making you nearly choke on spit as you struggled to breathe again. Your hand flew to your opposite wrist, under the fabric of your sleeve and touching the chain that rested around the base of your hand - a gift from Elrond in the early hours of the morning before he had left for battle and after he had kissed you on the forehead. “To remember me by,” he had said, a sadness settling over his features that you hated. He unclasped it, gesturing for you to hold out your wrist, and when you complied he had linked the chains so carefully, fingers brushing the underside of your forearm so lightly it sent chills darting over your skin like minnows in a stream. His hold had lingered, and your breath had been held while time seemed to stretch on more than usual for your kind.

Elrond had that effect on you, it would appear. Making you breathless was a skill of his you weren’t sure he knew he possessed, and at this current moment you wished it was a skill he had never mastered. Your throat felt tight while the messenger caught his breath, tired from sprinting from the battlefield. The fight was over for now, the question was simply who had won.

“Sauron’s forces have been pushed back, and the majority slaughtered. We have won this battle!” the elf cried, and the first wave of relief washed over you and the crowd. The second would come when you knew who was alive out of those that had been sent away that morning, and who would not return this night.

The thundering of footsteps could just be heard over the cheers of the people gathered in the safe hold, and the first of the elven soldiers appeared in the chamber, tiredness being replaced by joy at seeing their loved ones again and embracing them with a fierceness that even Sauron could not comprehend. There were too many similar soldiers, their armour all the same and their faces all dirtied, and it was a long few minutes before you caught sight of the elf you were searching for. You were sure your face was blank and cold, and your eyebrows furrowed as you attempted to see past the hordes in front of you, but the moment a head of unruly curled hair glinted under the torchlight, clearly moving from soldier to soldier and asking if they were alright, you knew it was Elrond. He seemed to sense your gaze on him, turning his head to look over his shoulder and seek you out, finding you within seconds. He is alive. Elrond is alive. It was a mantra, playing over and over in your head as your feet numbly moved you forward while he did the same, pushing through people to reach you, and before you could truly register it you were in his arms, the coldness of your previous gaze melting and turning into warmth as you looked at him, tracing the small cuts on his face and wrapping your other arm around his waist. He was dirty, and bloodied, and shaking from the cold or from the fight or from something else entirely that you could not name, but he was alive. You squeezed his waist, pulling him closer to you, but didn’t miss the slight wince on his face as you did so. “Elrond, are you hurt?”

“I am fine, melethel. Just a scratch.”

“Do not lie to me, Elrond. Come, let’s get you cleaned up and out of your armour; it must be heavy on your shoulders.” He did not reply, only giving a tired smile in its place, and let you take him by the hand to the room you had commandeered for you both when you had arrived. There were two raised cots, not that Elrond had slept much, as he had been needed in meetings to discuss battle strategies and had, in his usual fashion, not stopped working until he was content that his plan would work. You closed the door behind you and pointed to one of the cots, not looking at him as you told him to sit. He did so in a daze, fingers picking at the leather straps that you had done up for him that morning. It was long past nightfall now, and Elrond likely had not rested since he woke up. You gathered your medicines and poured a dish of water, moving to sit on the stool that Elrond had pulled up for you and putting your supplies on the side table to help him with his armour. You worked in silence, removing piece after piece of metal until it sat on the floor in a neat pile and you had better access to his wound. Cautiously you pressed your fingers to the edge of the cut, trying to gauge how bad it was and immediately regretting it when he hissed in pain and tried to move away. You snatched your hand back, eyes snapping to his face to see it scrunched up in pain. “Elrond,” you spoke, voice quiet in the near-empty room as you placed your hand on his fist. “Elrond. It is alright. Here, help me get this off of you so I can clean it.” He softened, features settling back into a face you knew better than the wrinkled nose and squeezed-shut eyes, and smiled a little as you started tugging at his undershirts.

“You know, if you wanted me to take my clothes off you could have said it earlier.” Had you been standing you were sure your knees would have given way and caused you to hold on to something for support. He must be delirious from the wound, or the amount of time spent on his feet fighting. Elrond never said things like that: not to you, not to anyone. You forced a glare onto your face in lieu of a response, hoping he hadn’t noticed how much he had affected you with one simple sentence, and started to gently pull the fabric up.

“Stop jesting, Elrond. I need to clean your wound. Unless you would prefer I left you here to get an infection and suffer?”

“You rather enjoy leaving me to suffer, melethel. You do it whenever we fight.”

“I always help you up off the floor after I wipe it with your backside,” you indignantly replied. You were glad he was talking - the silence had been strange. Normally you would not mind sitting in silence with Elrond, but that was when you were safe in Lindon, books in your hands and paper rustling as the pages turned, not when he had just fought a bloody battle and could have died.

“I recall that last time we fought it was I who helped you off of the floor,” he mused, and you swatted at his arm.

“Shush. I let you win that one. Now stop talking and help me; your limbs are gangly.” He let out a noise of disbelief at that but lifted his arms anyway, wincing when the shirt went over his head and pulled at the skin of his side. An Orc had found a gap in his armour, pushing its blade through and marking the side of his body with blood. You held your breath at the size of it, and when Elrond asked you how bad it was you answered with your eyes still on his side. “It is… it is nothing I cannot fix.” He seemed content enough with your response, nodding and leaning back on his hands to allow you more room to work. He grunted in pain when you raised the cloth to his skin and started cleaning away the blood and sweat that had stuck there, but otherwise was silent while you worked.

Time is a strange thing for elves: your lives are so much longer than those other races of Middle-Earth and so often you do not perceive it in the same way - twenty years for some may be the blink of an eye to an elf. You could not have been cleaning and stitching his wound (he had cried out more when the needle had pierced his flesh) for more than an hour or so, and yet it had felt like an eternity. When you were finally done, his wound covered in an elvish salve to stop infection and the spread of whatever evil was in Orcish weaponry and stitched up with a fine thread that would dissolve harmlessly into his skin over time, you brought out another cloth and poured fresh water to clean his face. He was caked in dirt and blood and grime, sticking to his fair skin from all of the sweat he had created in exertion, and if you did not know Elrond like the back of your own hand then you would not have recognised him at all.

“Let me,” he said, pushing up off of the cot and moving to where you stood by the basin. His hands covered yours, gently attempting to pull the cloth from your grasp and do the rest himself, but your grip was strong.

“No. I have been sat around doing nothing all day and I might just explode if I do not finish looking after you.” He smiled, the barest of things as the corner of his mouth pulled upwards a little, and his eyes softened. How he could be soft after everything he had seen today amazed you. It had taken you years to stop guarding yourself after you first fought in a battle, not letting anybody see any vulnerability in case they took advantage and thought you weak. It was part of the reason you stayed behind: you had not wanted to find out what would happen if you fought again, not when Elrond had come into your life and, piece by piece, dismantled your high walls.

“Alright, melethel. Alright.” He had always insisted on calling you that, saying that it didn’t matter that the pair of you were not courting, and who were you to refuse him when he spoke so sweetly? He settled back against the counter, letting his feet drift apart a little so you had room to stand between his legs. He closed his eyes, trusting you to take care of him, and for the first time since he had returned he looked at peace. He seemed unsure where to place his hands, hovering for a moment between your waist and the wood of the cabinet top he perched on before deciding on the latter. You worked away the dirt, revealing more clean skin with every swipe of your cloth, until eventually you were looking at the face of your friend as you remembered it. His hair still needed a wash, as did the rest of him, but Elrond was here, in front of you and more like himself than he had been since he had left in the morning.

“I think you had more soil on your face than the grounds of Middle-Earth,” you joked, rinsing out the cloth again before bringing it up to his face to wipe the remainder of the grime away. He opened his eyes, a childish grin appearing on his face at your words.

“Then you have done a fantastic job in removing it all.” He paused, then narrowed his eyes at you in playful suspicion. “At least I assume you have removed it all, and haven’t just smeared it all around my face?” He poked a dirty finger into your cheek, making you laugh and jerk backward to stop him spreading muck everywhere. Elrond stopped moving abruptly, catching your hand and studying a finger. “You’re bleeding.” He blinked at the dried blood on your pointer finger. “Or is that mine?”

“Oh. I had not even realised. I must have stabbed myself with the needle earlier. Really, it is nothing, Elrond.” He didn’t let go however, still looking concerned that you had hurt yourself while tending to him.

“But if you are hurt-”

“Which one of us was brutally stabbed by an Orc blade? And nearly died?”

“I did not nearly die, melethel, you are being dramatic.”

“As are you, Elrond. I barely even noticed the prick of the needle.” He had brought your hand close to his face, and somehow your body had gone with it. The hand that held the cloth was bracing your weight next to Elrond’s hand, your fingers just touching, and your face was so close to his that you could feel the soft brush of air that he let out every time he breathed. It was so typical of Elrond to be more concerned for others when he himself was the one that needed to be worried over, and it only made you love him more.

“If you say so,” he hummed, shifting his hold on your hand so that he could bring his lips to the tip of your finger where you had stuck yourself with the needle, pressing the smallest kiss to it. Your breath caught again, and he noticed the hitch. “Melethel? What is it, did I hurt you?” His eyes widened and he rushed to rectify the mistake he thought he had made. “I am so so sorry, I did not mean-”

“You did not hurt me, Elrond, for goodness’ sake!” You cut him off, exasperated and feeling very warm.

“Then why-” he broke off, eyes searching your face and studying the most likely very visible flush to your features. “Oh,” he said, softer than a leaf of one of the trees of Lindon falling to the earth. You swore his pupils dilated a little, and he tilted his head back ever so slightly as realisation dawned on him. “Oh.” He let go of your hand, fingers slowly moving to your jaw to turn your face back towards his after you had looked to the side in an attempt to hide from the intensity of his gaze.

“Elrond, what- what?” Your hand he had been holding was now on his shoulder, keeping you upright along with the arm he had somehow snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“Are you- do you…” he fumbled over his words, something he very rarely did, and through the haze of wondering how you had ended up in this situation, his fingers cupping your jaw while his other hand rested on your lower back and he stared into your eyes, flicking between them both to see if he could read you, you felt a swell of pride that you of all people had made Herald Elrond of Lindon speechless.

“Do I what?” you asked, as gently as you could. The hand you had rested on his shoulder was now toying with a strand of hair that curled under his ear against his neck, your other braced on his chest (which you were just now remembering was unclothed), and a small smile was on your face. You knew that he knew the truth now - how could he not? But he wanted to hear it, as did you, because the fear that he might be wrong was lingering and if he was wrong, he might hurt you, which was the last thing Elrond ever wanted to do.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered, eyes similar to that of a wolf cub you had once seen, wide and innocent, but entirely Elrond in the blown out pupils and spark of knowing that he carried. His nose was brushing yours, breath fanning over your face, and now it was your turn to tilt your head back to meet him. “Do you feel that whenever we are apart… your heart aches for the space where I should be stood? That whenever we are together I am complete because you are there and you are so bright and wonderful that you take my breath away more often than I would care to admit - do you feel that too?”

“How could I not, Elrond? How could I not feel that?” You felt the tension dissipate from his shoulders, his body sagging forwards into yours just a little, the action causing his face to come even closer to yours, angled slightly upwards from where he was an inch lower than you sat on the cabinet.

You couldn’t breathe again, but this time it was because Elrond had pressed his lips to yours so cautiously that you thought you might melt into him. His fingers on your jaw were warm, not urging you one way or the other but just anchoring you, as he always had done from the moment you had met, letting you decide what happened next. You broke off first, resting your forehead against his and catching your breath, and he swallowed thickly, moving to place tiny kisses against your jawline and cheek, pausing only to murmur your name into your skin. Your hand buried itself in his hair, fingers tangling in the curls and knocking out the dust and dirt that had stuck there. It had long since dried of sweat, but the strands were greasy and needed washing, and that thought combined with the memory that he had a wound in his side were enough to make you pull back even further. “You should have a bath,” you said when he looked up at you with adoring but concerned eyes. He paused for a moment, frozen in place while he contemplated what you had said, and then he chuckled, the sound low in his throat.

“Are you saying I smell, melethel?”

“Yes. Come, I’ll get a bath ready for you.”

“And if I would rather stay here?” His fingers had started lightly stroking your jaw, and with the way he was looking at you it was becoming harder and harder to leave his embrace. You managed to wrinkle your nose and step back, a strength you hadn’t known you possessed taking over and making you move.

“I’m not kissing you again until you have bathed, Elrond.” He sighed dramatically, retracting his arms and standing up, wincing slightly and favouring his non-injured side while you started transporting water from over the fire.

“Truly? You really would leave me here?”

“If it gets you over here faster, then I shall get in with you.” You had never seen the elf move so quickly before, pulling off his boots and drawing out towels for when the bath was finished with. He hesitated with his trousers, then decided to keep them on, glancing at you to see what you were doing. You were already watching him, making a decision of your own before starting to pull at the strings holding your robes together.

“You don’t have to-”

“Oh I’m keeping my underclothes on, but I shall likely sink right to the bottom if I keep these thick robes on.” He looked relieved, and you stifled a laugh as you headed for the dresser where your clothes were kept, pulling out a pair of fresh trousers. “Here, get changed first if you’re keeping trousers on; you’ll dirty the water immediately.”

He complied, heading behind the partition in the corner of the room and re-emerging a few moments later to find you already in the bath, eyes closed in contentment at the feel of the warm water on your skin. Elrond lifted your head, pushing you forward gently so that he could clamber in behind you and settle back against the tub. You heard him grunt when his wound his the water, and turned to see his face scrunched in pain. “Are you alright?”

“I am alright. Just don’t lean on my side.” He helped you turn in the tub so that you were sideways against him, his wound kept out of the danger of being pressed down upon.

You stayed in the bath until it got cold and your fingers wrinkled, having washed the dirt off of each other with one of the towels Elrond had brought over, and then when you got out you dried each other off and redressed in fresh clothes, hanging up the wet fabric and making for the bed, curling up next to each other, your head on his chest. Sleep came easily to you, Elrond’s body creating a warmth under you that made up for the dying fire in the cold room, and at some point your breathing matched his.

For now, you could be content in peace. Another battle would come, the war not yet won, and Sauron’s armies would be at your doors again soon. But not yet. They would need time to gather strength again, to marshal and be ready, and so you had time too before Elrond had to leave again, and time to breathe before you would be sat waiting, and waiting, and take in air before it was stolen from you when he kissed you goodbye.

#elrond peredhel #elrond x reader #elrond rings of power #rop elrond

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adoresia · 3 months ago

Text

— Morning Monologue

pairing : Dad!Gojo satoru x reader

synopsis : The comedic chaos of parenthood unfolds as Gojo Satoru rambles on about his dreams for his baby in the early morning light. While Gojo’s enthusiastic monologues flow freely, his little one’s unimpressed expressions provide a humorous contrast. This light-hearted tale captures the blend of love and laughter that defines their bond, showcasing Gojo's playful spirit and the delightful challenges of being a dad.

warnings : nothing just fluff

sierra speaks : based on DDG and Halo cause they’re tooo funny 😭😭

It was barely dawn, sunlight creeping through the curtains, and the entire apartment was quiet—except for Gojo Satoru, who was wide awake and talking non-stop. He was lounging in bed, his silver hair messy from sleep, but his voice still full of that typical Gojo energy, as he rambled on and on to the tiny baby cradled in his arms.

“Y’know, being the strongest sorcerer in the world is kinda like being the best dad,” Gojo mused, staring at his baby’s wide eyes. “No pressure, just perfection in every department. You’re lucky, kiddo, you’ve got me to show you the ropes. Infinite Void? You’ll be a natural.”

Your baby—still too young to even comprehend the wild words flying over his tiny head—looked up at him, blinking, seemingly processing none of it. Instead, his expression was... well, let’s say less than impressed.

You were laying on the other side of the bed, half-asleep, but listening to this morning monologue unfold. It was a regular occurrence at this point—Gojo waking up, deciding that 6 AM was the perfect time for his fatherly wisdom. The baby had no choice but to listen, a captive audience to Gojo’s self-proclaimed brilliance.

“And you’re gonna have the coolest techniques, just like me. You’ll have all the girls—well, maybe not all the girls, 'cause you know, I’m taken,” he said with a wink in your direction. You let out a soft snore to pretend you were asleep, hoping to dodge the goofiness. Gojo chuckled before turning back to the baby. “But anyway, you’re gonna be the coolest kid in Jujutsu society. And don’t get me started on that hair—everyone’s gonna love it. You got my genes, so we’re basically unbeatable.”

The baby squirmed, still half-listening (if that). But then, there it was—the moment you'd been waiting for: Your baby gave his father the dirtiest side-eye you had ever seen. Even at this young age, your baby had inherited the sass. The look was a mixture of annoyance and “can you not?”—like he was silently begging for some peace.

Gojo froze mid-sentence, his eyes widening in mock horror. “Oh, so that’s how it is, huh?” he said, feigning heartbreak. “You’re already tired of me? My own flesh and blood? I see how it is. Fine, I’ll just—" He dramatically rolled over to the other side of the bed, away from the baby. “I’ll be over here, not talking, since apparently I’m too much for my own child.”

The room was silent for a beat—until you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You burst out laughing, turning over to face them. “Gojo, if you don’t leave my baby alone!”

Gojo rolled back toward you, grinning that signature smile, like he knew exactly what he was doing all along. “Just trying to pass down some of the legendary Gojo wisdom. Can’t help it if my kid’s a little too young to appreciate it.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “He’s not even a year old, Satoru. Give him a break.”

Gojo smirked, leaning in to give the baby a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Alright, alright. I’ll save the life lessons for later. But just wait till he’s old enough to understand—then he’s in for it.”

You smiled, watching them both. Even though Gojo’s constant chatter could be a lot—especially so early in the morning—there was something endearing about it. He was fully committed to this dad thing, and even when the baby wasn’t feeling it, Gojo made sure to bring the fun, every single time.

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sleeplessdreamer14 · 6 months ago

Note

Okay so imma need more twin Zuku hcs for my mental health✨

when I say ride or die I mean you’re prepared to flee the country together if need be

two peas in a pod fr

Inko has a dozen photos of the two of you in matching Halloween costumes and stuff

all through your lives, you’ve always had Izuku’s back whether you have a quirk or not, always there for him when the world was beating him down

so when he got One For All from All Might, he saw it as his chance to return the favor

also if you do have a quirk, he’s got at least 2 whole pages dedicated to it like whether it was directly inherited from of your parents or maybe it was recessive, etc.

not to mention the twin esp it’s like your shared sixth sense

your allergies also act up at the same time

heavens forbid one of you start to cry because then the other’s gonna start crying and that’s just gonna be a mess

you may not have the exact same interests, but you share the same passionate spirits

Bakugou is… not necessarily scared of you, maybe intimidated is a more appropriate word

because you’ve been willing to square tf up with him in junior high

also you’re the only other person he allows to call him Kacchan

one time All Might called for “Young Midoriya” and you both turned your heads at the same time

it was as adorable as it sounds

when Izuku enrolled at UA but you were going to a different school, you both had to learn to cope with the separation, especially when he moved into the dorms

when you come to visit, he just casually carried you around on piggy back for a little bit because he didn’t wanna let you go (also cuz he wanted to show off a lil bit how he was now able to carry you w/out breaking a sweat)

also by the time you finally get around to meeting his classmates, it’s almost as if they’ve met you already because of how much your brother has told them about you

when Aizawa found out about you, his immediate thought was oh my god, there’s two of them.

upon realizing class 1A’s problem child had a twin, he could practically feel his first grey hair come in

my lord if one of his classmates developed a crush on you :0

his reaction heavily depends on who it is

but that’s a story for another time 😉

he makes sure to grape juice far away from you tho

one time you two fell asleep snuggled together on one of the couches in the common space while watching something on your ipad

Mina took a bunch of pics and Ochako almost cried

Kirishima admires how strong your guys’ bond is and thinks it’s super manly how you two always come through for one another

you 🤝 Iida : willing to do anything for your brothers

if you’ve got a fav pro hero, Izuku will do his best to get the opportunity for you to meet them

one of you gets seriously hurt, look out world

the league of villains is honestly kinda hesitant to target you and that’s saying something

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gabessquishytum · 2 months ago

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Robin has only ever known his papa, Hob. He knows he has a father out there somewhere. His papa talks about his father as if he is a superhero. Some of the things hob tells him can’t be true—that he is the prince of stories and the lord of dreams and that he is more than human. He is something like a god. Robin assumes it’s partly a lie to make up for not having him around. He’s 10 now and it’s getting hard for Papa to fool him with stories.

Besides Robin seems fully human. He can’t walk in dreams or talk to ravens. So he’s pretty sure his father is just another alpha who knocked up an omega and didn’t stick around.

There’s one thing about Robin that’s special: he is immortal. But he’s pretty sure he got that from papa, not his mystery father. They have to move around a lot to keep people from noticing.

One day however, strange men come to the house. They know who his papa is. They know he’s immortal.

Hob doesn’t panic for robin’s sake. He pushes a big amber stone into Robin hand and tells him to run. That he will protect him. And that he can use the stone to call his father. Robin runs and his papa is taken away.

Dream and hob haven’t spoken since the break up in 2024–not long after dream first came back to him. So he is surprised when the dream stone he gave hob once suddenly activates. He’s even more surprised when he follows the trail to a crying boy with angry brown eyes, a familiar nose and a shock of unruly dark hair.

Oh I love this. I'm interpreting that Hob named Robin after the Robyn he had all those hundreds of years ago - a tribute to his first son. Although he doesn't think that Dream would want anything to do with the child, Hob still feels that he would approve of the name.

And Dream sure does get the shock of his life when he finds tearful, defensive young Robin with the dreamstone clutched in his hand. Those angry brown eyes say so much, and Dream just knows without having to be told. That's his son. That's Hob’s son. But he doesn't have time to unpack it, because Robin is already tugging on his sleeve and demanding that Dream rescue his papa.

Dream does exactly that, of course. Before long, he discovers Hob’s location, eviserates his captors and grabs him tight. He's scenting Hob and Hob is scenting him back, and it's like they never broke up. But then Dream remembers Robin, and quickly spirits Hob out of the location he was being held in, and takes him to his son. Their son.

Hob holds onto Robin very tightly when they're reunited. The scent of protective omega flares up in the air, and Dream wants nothing more than to submit to him. Prostrate himself, bare his throat, and beg Hob to take him back. He wants Hob and he wants Robin. He'd do anything to be allowed to be with them.

And now Robin's seen him, he wants his father too. Especially as he saved his papa's life. He can't resist giving Dream a big hug, nuzzling against him and scenting him enthusiastically. Hob’s eyes fill up with tears. God, he wants Dream to hold him too! He's taken care of Robin on his own for 10 years, and he wants desperately to share that precious journey with Dream. He wants Dream to take care of him, too.

Robin may have to do a bit of work to get his stubborn parents together, but he knows that they both want the same thing. The both smell like longing and lost love, but there's also hope. They just need a little help to get there!

#the sandman #dreamling #cw omegaverse #cw mpreg

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mtchee · 7 months ago

Text

Bubbles Along the Surface - [Zhongli] GN

blurb:

A minor god awakened years after the Archon War, and with your brother, Osial, pinned to the depths below, you've made your own way in the world. In the most recent year, sailing with a merchant crew, you've forever decided to conceal your identity as a god, keeping to the life of a mortal with an intense fascination with the land of Geo. In all your years, its only now you have the chance to finally step foot in Liyue, meeting a tall and handsome man who eventually comes to be your beloved--but not without a few misunderstandings.

cw: not edited, fluff, minor angst, second-person-pov, spoilers for liyue playthrough but nothing major, osial is [name]'s older brother, archon siblings fr, zhongli loving on you, a reassuring zhongli, feat. childe but really he only gets like four lines

| masterlist | genshin impact collection |

[8.2k]

Eons ago, after the Archon war, arose a young archon hidden in a dreamless sleep beneath oceanic depths, protecting them from the catastrophe above. Awoken by the change in currents, they rose to the water's surface whilst their elder brother was pinned to the crust below—for they was the beloved sibling of the God of Vortex, Osial.

Their own title, God of Bubbles, and it was they whom were responsible for the health of marine life and the ocean oxidation.

While their followers had either converted or were wiped out in the war, they retreated from their title as an Archon, knowing it would only get them into trouble with the rising seven who battled for their rightful seats in ruling Teyvat.

Though their stories never died.

Sheltered due to the war and then lost without their big brother, they began a new life as a merchant, sailing the high seas and traversing from nation to nation. Although the world had changed from what they had originally thought, they were open minded and of a bright spirit—and couldn't wait to explore.

"To Liyue we sail!" The captain called, a rugged but sweet man who practically adopted you, "they've new silks due for Inazuma on the second moon, if we get there early enough we can rest on some solid ground for a while. Lets give ourselves a holiday, ay?"

The rest of the crew cheered back ecstatically, having been docked in Schneznaya for more than long enough. They could use a change of scenery; most weren't built for this kind of cold.

You laughed at their eagerness, quickly aiding your mates in loading on the last few crates of supplies before the ship was to set off once more.

You made sure your route was clear of storm—well, as much as you could. Your power's influence was better equipped for the water's depths, not its surface.

But you made do.

"Excited, love?" Darla, a Fontaine merchant about ten years your senior (physically at least) approached, a wide and knowing grin on her face, "you've always wanted to go to Liyue, haven't you?"

You grin back, eyes closed as you giggle sheepishly, "You've heard all my rambles, haven't you? Of course I am! And we get to stay there for... how long? Oh! Almost two moons! Two moons! Darla, that's two months of exploring! I've always wanted to visit the adepti shrines..."

"Of course you have," The older woman rolls her eyes playfully, gently bumping into your hip, "calm yourself, dear. We don't want you to combust."

You laugh at her in good nature.

"How come we're staying so long anyway? Not that I'm complaining."

"Why do you think?" Darla gives you an incredulous look, "because you're the captain's pearl, that's why. He's always had a soft spot for you," she nods her head towards the old man by the wheel, "not that the rest of us mind. Gives us a break too."

They watch as while the evening prevails, the ship's leader bounds below deck despite his age and practically hauls up a barrel of drinks for the mates to share, letting out a bellowing laugh all the whilst.

You snort, "Mm, I see what you mean."

After a week or so of smooth sailing, you finally port in Liyue Harbour and settle yourselves at the available inns, unloading any personal cargo and clearing the ship for its future stocks.

The Portside is bustling with life, fishermen promoting their fresh produce and other sailors maintaining their boats. Your eyes are wide in awe at the architecture and vivacity, excitement only continuing to build within you.

"Oh, pa!" You eagerly turn to your father figure with pleading eyes, "the city's just past the docks, may I please—?"

"Just be back before dark, alright?" The captain huffs out with feigned exasperation, "some of the crew and I will be hangin' around the plaza for a bit. Some place called Third around Knockout? I dunno..."

He scratches the back of his head before letting out a puff of air as you launch yourself at him, arms latched tightly around his torso in a hug.

His once narrowed eyes widen while the colour pink tints his sun kissed cheeks, "O-Oi!"

"Thank you, pa!" You pull back with a gleeful smile, "I'll be back soon, I promise!"

You lean up and places a chaste kiss on his frizzy cheek before rushing off past the docks.

The male stammers as some of the crew snicker at him from behind, teasing him for putting up his so called 'cold exterior'.

"Yeah yeah... uh, b-be safe!" He calls out at last. He quickly whips around to those laughing, "who're you chucklin' at, huh? hUh?!"

Eager to explore, you find yourself in the middle of the plaza ahead of your crew and are immediately overwhelmed by the smell of food and a rush of people.

You can't help but grin at the sight.

You wander past the open shops and stalls, simply admiring the sights and everything the locals of Liyue had to offer. You feel your heart swell at the kindness of a sweet granny who ran a toy stall, the elder woman giving you a colourful paper windmill with the only explanation being that you had a beautiful smile.

You express your gratitude and wish for her good health before continuing onwards with more of a skip in her step, gift clutched to you closely.

In the midst of your exploration, you bump into a tall man, profusely apologising as you stumble for your balance, toy falling to the floor.

"Ah, no sweat!" The male replies, and you look up to meet deep blue orbs and a boyish grin. The ginger haired stranger leans down to pick up your fallen gift, handing it back to you whilst introducing himself as Childe.

"[name]," You reply politely, shaking his hand with a bright smile, "it's a pleasure! Uh, a-apologies for the collision..."

At your sheepish expression, the male only chuckles and waves it off, a certain glint appearing in his eyes at the mention of your name.

"You're not from around here, are you?" He tilts his head curiously.

"Oh, no, heh, I'm a—" You stop yourself momentarily, clearing your throat, "I'm a foreigner. I work as a merchant across the waters."

"I see, I see," His gaze grows half lidded, flickering to the glowless hydro vision by your waist, "you like the ocean?" His curiosity peaks as he notices you perk up immediately.

"Yes! Indeed, aha, it's practically my life."

He gives you a nod of understanding, and you indulge yourself in idle chatter before parting ways, the male heading towards the crimson stairs leading to the balconies above. It's then that you realise where you are.

Not in the plaza, that's for sure.

Finding yourself lost, you take note of the increasingly darkening sky, "Oh dear..." your stomach drops.

Your eyes dart around hurriedly in hopes of landing on something familiar, spinning around in a circle and only managing to loose hope.

Your chest tightens as the sun finally dips past the horizon, and you cuss quietly under your breath. Your knuckles grip the stem of the paper windmill closely, the toy being your only sense of comfort.

"Excuse me," A deep voice adresses you from behind and you jump.

You whirl around, wide eyes meeting the chest of the individual talking to you.

Wary gaze trailing upwards, you come into contact with almost luminescent amber isises, and a concerned frown.

"Are you alright? You seem rather... distressed."

You take in a sharp breath, eyes flickering—the man is breathtaking.

He is tall and of a strong physique, with wide shoulders and a toned, but slimmed waist. His clothes are dark, although intricate and rich with black and brown to gold features.

His hair is long at the back, tied neatly in a low tail whilst the front frames his eyes in curt strands.

You blink, "Oh, yes. I—uh, ahem. I-I'm not from here, you see? And, um, I appear to have found myself a bit lost..." you can't help but feel small under his stony gaze, hearing him hum lowly in response.

"I see. From where do you hail?"

"Oh, I'm a travelling merchant. I docked today with my crew and told pa—uh, m-my captain that I would be back before dark, but..."

"Ah, I understand," The male's stern features seem to melt ever so slightly at your stammer, and he gives you a small smile to ease your nerves, "do you recall where you are suppose to be?"

"Somewhere called Third Round Knockout, I believe."

You give him a sheepish grin in return, toy clutched close. The stranger's eyes lighten in recognition of the name.

"A place I frequent in my days of rest. If you would like, may I escort you to your destination?"

"Really?" You brighten hopefully as he offers you his arm, "you wouldn't mind? Thank you, sir!"

"Zhongli," He states as you link your arm with his, "you may refer to me as Zhongli."

He smiles at you softly, causing you to flush, and begins leading you back towards the plaza.

"Mister Zhongli! Mister Zhongli!" You wave him down excitedly, the male breathing out a chuckle at the notion.

Throughout the following months, the two of you had bumped into each other once more and became well acquainted, soon becoming friends as you met up frequently.

The geo user became acutely aware of his new found friend's fascination with Liyue and was more than happy to show you around and tell you the many tales of said nation.

You got to know each other well within your first visit, you having been rather disheartened when the time came for you and your crew to leave--though the man had assured you that when you next returned, he would still be waiting.

"[name]," He greets with a gentle smile, opening his arms as you gleefully jumps into them, "how have you been fairing?"

"Good," You reply curtly, smiling up at him, "but better now that I'm here."

You laugh when he shake his head at you, "What about you? Are you okay?"

Zhongli tilts his head slightly with a confused hum, "I heard about the Archon's passing, news of it has already reached Fontaine although it was a few days ago. Are you alright?"

"Oh, that, yes," Zhongli clears his throat and composes himself, "indeed, it is tragic. However, I believe the Qixing has everything under control."

"I suppose. Something doesn't... feel right though..."

He leans forwards in interest, a certain glint in his eyes at your words.

"Oh? How so?"

"I'm not sure, I just feel as though Morax—uh," You glance at him momentarily, catching yourself before you blurt out something controversial.

As an Archon yourself, you swore you could still sense the presence of Liyue's God; though you doubt herself, chalking it up to the fact that you were an inexperienced Archon, simply sensing the ramenants of his power.

"N-nothing. It just feels, odd? Someone having the ability to murder a God, and the Geo Archon no less... Um, anyway..."

Zhongli hums, the glint in his eyes ever so prominent, "I understand what you are inferring. In any case, it will be a long time before any such revelations come to fruition."

He takes note of your nerves, watching as you squeeze your left hand nervously and swiftly changes the subject to ease your discomfort.

You traverse towards Yujing Terrace, where Zhongli breaks any silence by running his mouth on about the flowers maintained in the gardens.

"A dear friend of mine, Madame Ping maintains the flora."

"Really?" You hum, "what kind of silk flowers does she grow?"

"All three variations I believe," The man goes on to continue but is interrupted by a high pitched and child-like voice from afar.

"Mister Zhongliiiiiii!"

The duo pause and turn towards the sound, you tilting your head at the sight of a frantically waving, floating mushroom fairy child and a boy.

The unknown blond makes no attempts to hush his companion, simply shaking his head at her loudness before approaching.

Glancing to the side, you notice Zhongli's ease in their presence and calm yourself.

"Ah, Aether, Paimon, hello," He greets with a nod, "what brings you two here?"

"Oh, we were just about to meet Ms. Ningguang! We've got a special invitation to head up to the Jade Chamber!" The mushroom fairy child—Paimon—explains proudly.

"Oh? Impressive, indeed." Zhongli humours her kindly.

"Sorry, did Paimon disturb you?" The blond—Aether—asks, ignoring his companion's offended 'hey!'.

"Not at all," You give the two a smile, "don't worry about it. Zhongli was just going to show me around Yujing Terrace."

Your companion nods, "Aether, Paimon, this is [name]. A dear friend of mine."

"[name]?" Paimon blinks, "you mean like the—"

Zhongli clears his throat, "Anyhow, I suppose the Qixing won't be too fond of waiting. I take it you are prepared?"

Sharing a peculiar look with Aether, the two communicate silently.

"Right!" The blond scratches the back of his head, "we've just picked up a gift for Lady Ningguang. Hopefully it's good enough."

"I'm sure she'll enjoy it." The taller assures.

Paimon huffs and stomps in the air, "Hey! Why are you interrupting—"

"Anyway, we'll see you later then! It was nice meeting you, Mx. [name]!" Aether grins at you and waves before bolting off, leaving his companion dazed.

"I—uh, whaaa? Heyyy! Wait for me!" The floating mushroom fairy is quick to fly after him, the two fading from sight.

You laugh, mildly confusde, "Well, they're an interesting pair."

The male beside you releases the breath he was quietly holding, chuckling softly, "Yes, indeed they are. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, about the silk flowers..."

"[name]?"

You perk up at the sound of your name, peering up from behind the stock of open crates you had been counting.

"Oh, Zhongli!" You brighten immediately, hopping over the boxes to reach him.

"Hi! What are you doing here? I thought you had work today?"

Despite your concern, you give him a grateful smile, a familiar warmth creeping up your neck.

The man smiles at you contently.

"I took a small break earlier than usual, though my boss doesn't mind."

He internally winces and fights back a flush of embarrassment when recalling Hu Tao's thorough interrogation for the sudden departure.

He wasn't in any trouble for doing so, no—but once Hu Tao found out it was to see someone outside of work, oh boy...

"Ah, anyhow," he clears his throat, "I... wanted to ask you something, and I suppose I just couldn't wait any longer."

Your interest peaks. Unfortunately, so too does some of your crew mates--a few of them slowing in their work to eavesdrop on the conversation.

Zhongli takes in a breath, "I was hoping to be able to treat you to dinner tonight, if you would be interested?"

His amber eyes meet yours with a hopeful glaze. Despite his outward composure, he could feel his nerves skyrocketing once he took note of their minor audience.

Your eyes widen and you bite back a squeak.

Is this even real? Or are you just assuming things? Oh, you could feel the excitement bursting within you—wait, but you're an Archon... oh gods you forgot about that. Ugh, but he's so—

"[name]?"

You snap out of your thoughts, embarrassment flooding you.

You quickly blurt out, "Yes! I-I mean, uh," you straighten yourself up as to not seem so flustered, "sure, ahem. Um... a-are you...?"

Zhongli let's out a subtle sigh of relief, closing his eyes as he allows a ginger smile to grace his lips.

"Yes, [name]. If you would, may I take your hand in courting?"

Oh.

OH SHI-

You tense and fight to push down an unholy squeal, mind racing. You could feel your mouth go dry the moment he reopened his eyes and made contact with yours.

You only manage to give him another giddy smile, nodding shyly with sore cheeks. Zhongli chuckles at you, taking a step closer and gently grasping your dominant hand in both of his.

"Then, I will see you tonight by the stairs of Yujin Terrace. Do not fret, my dear, you are perfect as always."

He brings your hand up to his lips, placing a gentle kiss upon its skin whilst maintaining eye contact.

He gives you one last charming smile before stepping away and leaving the harbour, ignoring the light blush coating his cheeks.

Later that day, as the sun kisses the horizon, you make your way from the inn and towards Yujing Terrace.

The night life in the plaza is bustling, the noise and chatter growing faint as you move farther from the docks.

Well into the city and past Luili Pavilion, the moonlight glinting across the shallow water catches your eye.

You slow and stop for a moment to peer into the pool, smiling softly as the golden bass and koi curl towards you. You glimpse a shadow passes from behind.

You giggle softly and, with a wave of your hand, summon gentle currents beneath the water's surface to play with the fish.

While the bass laze and let the gentle currents drag them along, the koi play along with the hidden tides, weaving in and out of the streams.

"Ah, there you are."

With a gasp and a jolt, you drop your hand to your side and step away from the waters edge.

"My apologies, [name]," Zhongli chuckles light heartedly, "I did not mean to frighten you."

"No! Not at all, aha," You quickly smooth any secret crinkles in your clothing and give your suitor a sheepish smile, heart racing in mild panic, "j-just nervous, I guess."

"Nervous?" The male quirks up a brow, "do I make you nervous, my dear?" Though his eyes--sharp as always--watch you attentively, the cheeky glint and subtle smile gives him away.

Stumbling over your tongue, you simply sigh and give him a pleading look, warmth creeping up behind your ears. Zhongli just smiles at you before offering you his arm; henceforth, commencing your date.

As evening turns into night, the moon rises higher and higher into the darkening sky with the two of you remaining arm in arm.

You find yourselves at the very top of the Terrace, where the annual Rite of Descension would have taken place.

Overlooking the sea of clouds*, you lean yourself against the railing, sighing softly as you gaze down at the waters fondly. Zhongli remains behind for a moment, watching you and getting lost in his thoughts before finally approaching.

He leans down beside you, facing the ocean although his attention is drawn to your being.

"[name]?"

You hum in response.

"May I... tell you something?"

Your attention peaks at his hesitancy, and you turn towards him curiously.

Zhongli keeps his glowing eyes out on the ocean.

"What I am about to say must remain secret between us. It is something that only a select few know," His gaze never wavers, "and I hope it changes very little, if it changes anything at all, between us."

Your brows furrow slightly, and you give his profil a soft smile, tilting your head to the side.

"What do you mean?"

Zhongli takes in a breath, "You know my name, correct?"

Your frown deepends, "Zhongli?"

The male nods slowly, "Indeed. Although, prior to this name, I used to go by many others—the most famous of which is one, revered, throughout all of Liyue."

You lean towards him in your puzzlement, and it is only then that he looks at you.

"My name, is Rex Lapis."

He doesn't blink, and your heart stops.

You can't breathe.

Disbelieving of your own ears, you search his gaze for any sign of deceit.

Alas, he remains firm.

His sharp amber irises seem to glow in the low light, glinting beneath the moon.

You swallow nervously and take in an uneven breath, a single word passing through your lips.

"...Morax."

Dread fills your entire being, and fear overturns your heart.

Why would he tell you this?

Why would he tell you now?

Why should he have ever told you? You don't just say that you're a dead archon to your friends—

You feel deathly cold all of a sudden.

He knows.

All tension in your being drops into the weight of lead as the entirety of Teyvat comes to a halt.

He knows.

He knows who you are, he knows you're a God, he knows all about you.

And for how long?

You feel sick to your stomach, and so you take a step back.

Seeing you fumble and your dreadful silence, Zhongli's firm gaze softens. He sighs quietly through his nose and moves towards you as he speaks.

"[name]—"

"Please."

He stops, face falling at the amount of fear in your eyes. He sees the unwavering fright in your very being.

The horrors of the war echo in your memories--whereby from stories or the experience of its aftermath.

Unadultered terror regarding your ultimate death as an archon sits like cement in your bone and tissue.

Zhongli watches, and you don't dare to breathe.

This wasn't how it was suppose to go.

He steps towards you again, but you fear to step back.

"Please don't."

Your voice wavers, almost a whisper.

It takes every fibre of your being not to retreat in immediate terror. But you know the power of a God, even if they no longer claim the title.

Zhongli's heart clenches, eyes widening as his mind begin to race once he notices your form trembling.

Though your hands were tense and nearly hidden by your sides, he could see their tight tremors. Barely glancing off to the side, he could see ripples surfacing from beneath the shallow pools of water decorating the Terrace.

They slowly grew bigger, and began to bubble.

"[name]... My dear, please. Calm yourself—"

"D-Don't!" Your voice barely raises, though your fear and desperation are apparent.

"Please... I...I don't have any followers. I don't have any land. I-I don't plan on taking anything, I swear I've basically only just woke up—"

His brows furrow, "[name]—"

"—I'll leave! I promise!" Your legs give out, and you collapse to your knees.

Your terror filled eyes no longer dare to look upon him, "I...I'm not a part of the seven but... I-I didn't..! I'd never..!"

A pitched cry forces itself passed your lips, "if I had a choice I wouldn't be here in the first place so p-please! Please... Banish me to the seas! I just--I... I don't want to die..."

Zhongli's stomach drops, "Oh, my dear—no..."

Sickness fills him to the brim and despair overwhelms him in waves.

He slowly lowers himself to your level, gaze soft as he does so.

"[name], please, look at me," Your lack of response causes him to sigh, but his patience is ever present, "here, how about you take my hand?"

Sniffling quietly, you tense when he draws closer.

"...I couldn't... M-Morax—"

"Whilst I retain the name of a former archon, the name you have come to know bares no such burden."

He keeps his hand outstretched, "So please, won't you look at me?"

It takes a moment of tension before you feel you foolishly dare attempt to make contact.

Your head lifts ever so slowly, and though you refuse to meet his eyes, you gradually reach out a trembling hand to meet his.

Zhongli breathes out a silent sigh of relief, gently tracing his thumb across your tense knuckles to soothe your nerves.

He whispers small praises of strength and gratitude, smiling gingerly when you look at him in alarm and embarrassment when he presses a kiss to your stiff fingers.

"There you go," He hums softly, "nothing is going to harm you, lest of all me, my dear..."

Slowly, slowly, the tremors stop and terror fades from your body. Exhaustion clouds you once you you're conscious of your senses.

Your embarrassment only grows at the awareness of your state: settled on your knees and with tear stained cheeks—not just in front of another archon but your (once upon a time) date no less.

Uh oh, you forgot about that.

You take in a sharp breath and look away to hide your face, clearing your throat as you attempt to pull away your hand.

Zhongli refuses to let go.

Instead, he stands, and gently pulls you up with him. Your voice wavers, feeling the dryness of your tongue, but Zhongli is patient.

He waits for you to gather your bearings.

"How," You sniffle quietly, "ah... how long have you known..?"

You refuse to meet his gaze.

Zhongli smiles gently, "From the very moment you mentioned your name."

"What?" You blink.

He chuckles lightheartedly, "No mortal would dare name a child after a God, my dear. Besides, your youth as an archon means you have yet to master how to conceal your presence."

"Oh."

While mortals may not be able to detect a God among the people, there is always a connection from archon to archon unless they wish to mask it.

As you are a young archon (though two thousand years old, you've been asleep for the past five hundred) with your elder brother trapped beneath the ocean depths, you lacked the guidance he would have provided.

You've managed to figure out a few things on your own, but your isolation from others of your being have left you clueless.

Zhongli smiles at you softly, "Not to worry, my dear. While I may have officially, well, unofficially, really—retired from being an archon, you are no longer alone. Do not carry this burden by yourself, hm?"

You take in a bashful breath, "R-Right. Thank you, uh, Zhongli."

He offers his arm to you once more, keeping a soft look upon his features as to keep you assured.

You glance between him and the ground, hesitation clouding your mind before you rationalise your thoughts—he had known about you from the moment you met. If he really wanted you gone, you would be.

But you weren't.

And so you give him a shy smile before accepting his arm, and you continue your night at a slower pace.

Though you both remain oblivious to the soulless blue eyes that observe you from within the shadowed darkness of the night.

A sly smirk traces his lips—a that plan would soon come to fruition.

Nearly two weeks since that night, you help load up at the docks on a bright sunny day.

The ramp creaks slightly with every heavy weight carried over from land and on board, the workers chattering about as they go on with their business.

Zhongli and you had continued to meet up, occasionally for lunch, but more so in the evenings so you had more time to spend together. Your crew mates teased you relentlessly, but they were nice about it—thanks to your pa, that is.

He was in near tears when he first heard about it, sniffling about how his little one was all grown up, even when you've never been a child in the time he'd known you, but it was funny (and sweet) nonetheless.

Darla was ready for all the gossip, and gave you all the romance talk you could ever need.

Needless to say, you were incredibly embarrassed that day.

Particularly when Zhongli came to pick you up at the docks after seeing you were late. Never again will you let Darla speak to him.

Zhongli was amused though.

It was around midday when things began to get weird.

It was only you who noticed at first, though you brushed it off seeing as you would be the only one to notice.

You'd noticed the currents beneath the water's surface began to quicken, gradually turning into a swirl. Then the sky darkened, and the swirling currents moved further out to sea before breaching the surface—a vortex.

Thunder clouds rolled in and lightning struck the ground. At the sudden change in weather, the people of Liyue slowed in their works.

Panic came to fruition as the vortexes rose into the air, connecting with the storm clouds above.

Harsh rain pelted down on Liyue Harbour, the ocean waves rising and crashing down like a dominoes on the docks; the water became so rough it began to damage the boats and ships, fiercely pulling the wooden stakes of the docks.

"Run! Run!" People screamed, "move inland!"

"Away from the waters!"

"Move! Quickly!"

The harbour was in hysterics.

You felt pain grip your heart at the fearful screams of the people you had come to love, worry flooding you as the wooden stakes began to rock.

"[name]!" Your pa comes barrelling towards you with heavy footsteps, his rain drenched clothes weighing him down, "stay away from the boats! Get inside the buildings!"

He hurriedly nudges you away from the docking point, eyes rapidly blinking to get rid of the water.

"What about you?!"

You have to yell over the sound of the thunder and heavy rainfall.

"I'm getting the rest of the crew!" He calls back, "stay put!"

You can do nothing but nod, dumbfounded at the sudden turn of events.

As you turn to leave the harbour, a deep voice calls for you.

It's quiet, yet it rings throughout your head and echoes in your ears, and your eyes widen.

You recognise the voice, though it had been many centuries.

"Big brother..." You mutter under your breath.

You move your gaze towards the violent waters, seeing a small, snake like tendril beckoning you forwards. You feel a sting in your eyes--and not just for the pelting rain.

Nervous butterflies flurry in your chest as the rain falling around you grows lighter.

"[name]..."

The voice beckons you, and you move closer.

It repeats your name again, "little one... follow..." the tendril falls back into the water, and you gasp.

"W-Wait! No!"

You rush towards the rough waters edge and collapse to your knees, peering into the depths.

Desperation clings to you and you loose all rationale, a cotton haze in your mind forcing you to no longer pay heed to the life you had built since your awakening.

"Brother! Brother, where are you!?" Your eyes dart around before spotting the tendril once again, and relief floods your system. It motions for you to follow before disappearing once more.

You follow.

Chasing it across Liyue Harbour and spying it from the ocean border, it popped up each time before dropping down and appearing someplace else.

Before you knew it, you found yourself by the cliffs of Wuwang Hill.

You struggle to see through the veil of rain, the thunder grumbling louder and louder. Through the thick of it, you spot the faint outline of a man, his back turned to you.

Shock almost paralyses your body. You find yourself slowly moving towards the man nonetheless.

The closer you gets, the better you can determine some of his features.

While tall, he maintains a lean build, ocean hued locks cascading down his pale back. His body is adorned in a loose hanfu, colours corresponding with the oceanic depths.

Your eyes widen when he turns his head toward you, lapis blue irises meeting with the [colour] of your own.

The smallest of smiles tugs at his thinned, pale lips, fondness softening his gaze.

"Hello," He greets, voice—though with a slight rasp—is rich and otherwise smooth, "little one."

Your heart races, a heavy breath leaving you before you bolt towards the man, tears streaking down from your eyes and mixing with the rain.

"Big brother!" You cry out, embracing his form from behind.

Despite your affection, the male keeps himself facing the cliffs edge. He places his hands upon yours, tracing your knuckles softly.

He hums softly, "My dear, sweet sibling," a sad look overcomes his features, and he gazes out towards the harbour.

At his lackluster, you sniffle before looking up confusedly.

"Osial..?" You question, eyes glistening.

He does not ordain you with a response.

Your attention slowly draws towards the city of Liyue, absolute horror filling you to the brim at the sight of it—vortexes reaching from between the sea and the sky threaten to swallow the buildings and wreck the stone mountains, whirlpools drawing closer to the bayside.

You spot giant tendrils of a hydra composed of water thrashing amidst the chaos, roaring and hissing as the rain pours heavy.

"Osial!" You cry out in terror.

"Brother—what's going on?! What are you doing?!" You remove your arms from the figure of the God, pushing yourself in front of him in a panic, "brother, please!"

The male's firm eyes do not falter, and he merely glances at you.

"It is for the best, dear one," A frown makes itself known on his once passive features.

You feel a swirl of emotions well up inside you, "What? No, no! Please—brother, Liyue is my home!"

Osial's gaze hardens, and anger clouds his view.

"Liyue," He spits the name, "has corrupted you, dear one," his fists clench by his side, and the large tendrils of water grow even more fierce, "he has corrupted you."

Your stature falters, "W-What..?"

The man only huffs, crossing his arms across his chest as he holds his chin high, "Do not act so naïve. I know who you confide with. You have betrayed me, little one."

"Betrayed you..? Betrayed? Brother, what are yo—"

"You have made treason with the one whom trapped me under our depths for millennia. You have taken side with Rex Lapis, the Geo Archon—he has taken you from me!"

The God's hair rises in opposition to the heavy downpour, locks twisting into the form of snakes that hiss, "and so I too, will take something precious from him."

His voice booms across the hills and across the waters.

From the edge of the Jade Chamber, Aether and his comrades divert their attention towards the sound of the yell, and their eyes widen.

You feel your heart break in your chest, "What..? No.. no! Osial! Brother—" you begin to scream, tears, like a waterfall, steaming down your face, "brother, please! Think for a moment! Brother!"

The elder ignores your cries of anguish.

Staring you down sternly despite the ache in his chest. He says nothing as he pushes you to the side, walking towards the cliffs edge once more.

He turns to you one last time, a sharp bite present in his tone.

"Once this is over, I will be back for you, dear one. And him," His eyes glint dangerously, "I will kill."

And then he leaps, vanishing into the furious, crashing depths below.

Your stomach drops, and the amount of panic coursing through you makes you dizzy.

You can't lose your brother.

But you can't lose him either.

And you surely wouldn't be able to cope without your beloved city.

So you run.

You race through the forest on foot, terror coursing through your veins.

While it would be faster to traverse through the waters in your bubbled form, it's current condition would render you immobile, and it would only be easier for your brother to hunt you down.

You hiss at the rain hitting your eyes, pushing through the irritation and the pain as you continues to run.

Not to the harbour, no.

It would be much to easy for him to find you there.

You must get away, far away.

Away from the waters, away from your brother, and away from him—your beloved, Morax.

Zhongli.

Your body aches and your heart shatters, but you persist--never once sparing a glance over your shoulder at the chaos that ensues.

You didn't know where you were, but even if you were far, the distance between you and the harbour still could not disguise the explosion from afar.

Your eyes widen at the light booming from whence you had gone, hands covering your gaping mouth as you fall to your knees with a stifled cry.

That was it.

It was done.

The fight was over, but you could feel it, in your heart, that it was not your brother who had won.

The breath in you chest is forcefully taken from you, and you can't find it within yourself to fight for it back.

You stumble into the nook of a mountain base you had hidden in, falling onto the cobbled and cold ground with tears. Your shoulders heave with your heavy and silent cries, before a loud scream escapes you, rocking the land and rippling the waters.

A searing pain grips your heart.

Despite their victory and with their feet on solid ground, the traveller and the rest cannot help but feel unease.

After their win is assured, a shrill shriek of pain ruptures the air, having echoed from afar. The people of the harbour shudder and almost collapse, looking around in fear, worry, and wonder.

But the group know better, and Aether shares a look of alarm with Paimon—their attention is yet to be caught by the figure slowly and weakly rising through the bubbling of the ocean water.

Through your tears and anguished cries, your exhausted mind forces you into a deep slumber—your body rested in the cave.

You remain undisturbed for days.

Panic and worry consumes those who know you, unknowing of your whereabouts and your condition.

Zhongli, putting aside his contract, feared for you the moment of the attack.

News reached him quickly of Osial's anger towards Rex Lapis for having 'stolen' his beloved sibling, though information of Morax's mortality remain only with the adepti and the Qixing.

By request of the former archon, the traveller sought the help of the fellow adepti to track down the missing god, the Qixing keeping an eye out, though having to prioritise the chaos of the people.

Within the time of their search, you awaken in a daze. Though still heartbroken, your mind is in more ease.

You peek outside of your little cave, stepping out and glancing around. It seems that you made it to the border between Cuijue Slope and Tianqiu Valley, near the adeptus mountains.

About to leave your enclosure, a cold fear consumes you as a shadow obscures you overhead. You look up, spotting the retreating form of Cloud Retainer from above.

Panic grips you again, and you immediately return to your stone cold haven.

They've discovered your existence—they're after you.

After the defeat of your brother, they've come to deal with you next. Since the destruction your brother had caused, surely only death would befall you as punishment in suit.

Tears gather in your eyes again and you muffle a weep. Your body stiffens at the sound of a shuffle from the cave's mouth, and your throat tightens.

Slowly, you stand, keeping silent as the intruder grows closer. You take in one last breath, deciding to play defense as there was no where for you to go.

You summon your catalyst which rotates with your elemental, encased in a bubble with strands of water circling around it. In your spare hand you generates the first burst of hydro, ready to attack.

Anticipation and anxiety flood you as a head pops around the corner, followed by a body with a sword in their hand.

Without hesitation, you clench your eyes shut and let out a battle cry, throwing down your elemental and attacking at a rapid pace.

While your original attack is not powerful, it's continuous onslaught is fast and taxing.

Yells of alarm and pain are heard from the intruder, voices reverberating around the cave.

"Wait! W-Wait!"

"[name]—Wait! It's me! Aether—t-the traveller!"

"A-Aether..?" You slowly cease your attack and peek your eye open, gasping at the sight of the familiar blond male and his floating mushroom fairy companion, "oh! Archons..! Aether, Paimon—I'm so sorry!"

The traveller gives you a sheepish grin whilst Paimon shakes the remaining bubbles off her head, smiling at you.

"Don't sweat it!" The little fairy dismisses.

"So this is where you've been hiding, huh?" Aether comments, "are you okay?"

You shrug, weapon dissapating, "I..I don't know. I've been too afraid to leave, and had fallen asleep in my grief... I don't know how to feel."

The male hums, "Liyue has been looking for you, you know," his voice is gentle, "come on. Everyone is worried."

With a bit more coaxing, the traveller and his companion manage to lead you out of the cave.

You freeze at the sight of someone waiting outside.

Xiao had been standing guard the mouth of the cave, waiting for Aether's return. His hardened eyes meet yours, and you cower in fear, re-summoning your catalyst on a whim.

Your hands bubble with hydro.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Take it easy!" Paimon flies in front of you, waving her arms about frantically, "it's just Xiao! Paimon knows he looks scary, but Paimon promises he's really nice! Deep, deep down!"

You glance between Paimon and the adeptus, who eyes you back wearily.

"He...he's not here to kill me..?"

"Kill you?" Everyone is taken aback by the statement, "why would he kill you?" Aether furrows his brows worriedly, "we've been searching for you for days."

"And Zhongli's been worried sick!" Paimon chips in.

"Z-Zhongli..?" Your eyes flutter, and your guard lowers, "oh no... please—take me to him..!" And so they do.

A weary but rushed trip back to Liyue Harbour consisted of Paimon fretting over you and lowkey (okay, highkey) freaking out over the fact that you were indeed another archon, you fearing for your life whenever Xiao so much as glanced at you, and Aether reassuring you that no one wanted you dead.

Reaching the harbour was like a slap in the face for you, of both uncertainty and relief--relief at the fact that most were safe, and casualties were little, but uncertain of how those who knew you would react to you returning, especially the Qixing and Zhongli.

You wondered if the Qixing will let you roam or imprison you for your brother's acts, or if Zhongli will shadow you in favour for his city--though that would be fair, you conclude.

They are his people after all.

"Baby pearl!" Your head perks up at the name, head darting around in search for the source of the watery call, "oh, thank the archons!"

Your papa comes barreling towards you, unshed tears glistening in his dark brown eyes as he wraps his arms around your frazzled form, "you're safe..! You're safe..."

"P-Papa..." Tears, once again, well up in your pretty [colour] orbs, and you sniffle at the tightness of his hold, "...papa..!"

You let out a cry, sobbing into his shoulder, "I-I'm so sorry..!"

"You're okay, pearl, you're oka-y!" The usually stoic captain's voice cracks, and he sniffles with you. As your tears die down, he straightens himself and clears his throat, turning towards your onlookers, "thank you, for bringing [name] back safe."

Paimon tiltes her head slightly, "Hm? Doesn't he know that they're...?" She eyes you shaking your head rapidly and a lightbulb goes off in Paimon's head, "Ooh! Paimon gets it. Yes! We kept them very safe indeed! Hehe."

"Of course, sir," Aether nods respectfully, Xiao simply dozing off into his thoughts.

"Papa," You gently call his attention, "have you seen Zhongli anywhere?"

The man scoffs, "Where haven't I seen him? He's been frantic since you left. He's either by the pavillion or the terrace. You've given the young man quite the fright."

You sweatdrop.

"Ah, y-yes..." You give your papa one more shaky smile, planting a grateful kiss on his scruffy cheek, "I'll be back soon okay? I promise I won't be going anywhere again."

"Hmph, you better... now, come on you lot! We could use a few more hands down by the docks!"

Xiao promptly disappears at that, with Paimon groaning and Aether simply smiling and giving a polite nod before heading off to help.

With that, the young archon begins making their way towards the destinated areas, checking the pavillion first before heading up to the terrace.

Anxiety pulses in your heart momentarily, but you quickly dismisses it--like papa said, Zhongli had been frantic, so you have nothing to worry about.

Making your way up the stairs, you ignore the eyes of a certain ginger who walks opposite to you, watching as you pass him by.

Reaching the top, disbelief takes over your very being.

Your jaw drops and your shoulders sag at the amount of shock coursing through you.

There, atop the end of the terrace, was Zhongli talking to a man only a few blue hairs taller than him.

His clothes are slightly tattered, and still loose, reflecting colours of the ocean depths. His skin, though pale, is slightly bruised. And although his brows are furrowed ever so slightly, the smallest of smiles rests confortably on his thin lips.

It was Osial.

Your brother.

Talking to Zhongli.

The geo archon.

Civilly.

How in the abyss were you suppose to react to this?

How the hell are you suppose to approach them?

Do you say hi to your brother first? Would Zhongli be offended? Or do you greet your lover? But wouldn't Osial be mad then? You couldn't really just waltz over either, you'd just been recovered from hiding. What does someone even say after that?

Your mind races with these conflicted thoughts, eyes dazed and mouth still agape in shock.

You blink.

"Ah, [name]," Your brother addresses you first, the two men turning their attention to your figure, "dear one..."

His gaze is soft, a regretful look on his features. His shoulders are no longer held back and squared, and his chin is no longer held up so high. Sadness overwhelms him at your lack of response.

You continue to stare, only taking small, slow steps towards them.

"I..." He sighs, "my dearest kin... I am so... sorry. Truly. It was I, who was corrupt, not you. Never you." His throat tightens, but he continues.

"So many years under trapped under the surface made my mind weary, and I was easily influenced by those you call the Fatui. I had not meant to hurt you, or cause you great fear... My mind was overwhelmed by anger when I was told that the very God who entrapped me had stolen you, forcefully entrapturing you," Osial closes his eyes in remorse, "it is only now that I learn it was all a ploy, and for that, I deeply apologi--"

He stops mid sentence, eyes snapping open in surprise with a silent breath.

Once within arms length, you had thrown your arms around his waist, nuzzling into his chest with watery eyes. Osial looks down at you in bewilderment, Zhongli quietly chuckling at his expression off to the side.

You sniffle.

"I'm just glad you're still here, big brother..."

Blood rushes to the male's cheeks at the sentiment, and his own eyes begin to gloss over with unshed tears. He takes in a sharp breath, holding you close and tight. He rests his chin atop your head.

"As am I, dear one... I had taken you for granted..." Osial is the first to pull away, smiling down at you gently.

He cups your cheek in his hand, caressing it gently, "My, how you've grown... so beautiful and mature now. I've missed you, little one."

"And I, you, dear brother..." You smile tearfully back up at him, leaning into his familial touch. He places a loving kiss on your forehead before releasing you, stepping away and looking towards the former geo archon.

Your eyes draw towards the dark haired man, stomach fluttering while your heart does flips.

Zhongli smiles down at you fondly, gaze soft. He steps towards you, outstretching his arms before pulling you into a secure embrace. He nestles his nose unto your head, breathing in your familiar scent.

"You had me so incredibly worried..." You flush at his bold affection, nuzzling him back.

"I know... I'm sorry."

He pulls back to look at you, cupping your face in his hands, "It's alright, my love. You're here now, and we're safe. Everyone is."

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart thumping from his endearment. He leans closer to you, nose brushing against your as his eyes grow half lidded.

"...I'm overjoyed that you're safe--"

"Ahem," Osial clears his throat, interrupting you.

Your face blossoms in heat with embarrassment, and you turn away in shame from your brother. Osial's arms cross with a deadpan look on his face.

"Not in front of me, you overgrown reptile," Osial hisses.

Zhongli rolls his eyes.

"Blink, then, you water-born cretin."

With that, Zhongli leans down and captures your lips in a long overdue kiss.

A squeak escapes you at his uncharacteristic vigor, though you figure he's doing so to get on your brother's nerves. Despite that, you can't help but indulge, eyes fluttering shut and humming into the kiss.

Your mind goes haywire at the feeling of his tongue gently running over the plump flesh of your lips. You can feel his breath through his nose caressing you, the air breaking upon contact with your skin, and he moans lowly against your mouth.

Osial gags at the sight, "Alright--alright! That's enough! Get your filthy hands off of my family, you decrepit fossil!"

It's safe to say that his protests went on unheard.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #gi x reader #x reader #character x reader #zhongli x reader #morax x reader #mtchee's library #mtchee's tea & story house

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pamwritessometimes · 2 months ago

Text

Tuesday’s Gone — Chapter 4

Russell Shaw x reader

Summary: When the police does little to no help to find your missing daughter, you are forced to contact Colter Shaw. What you don’t expect is how his investigation will reveal secrets about both your past and your daughter’s, in ways you never imagined.

Warnings: missing child trope, description and mention of murder, language, crawling in a narrow vent (I’m sorry my fellow claustrophobic loves), being held captive, being kidnapped

A/N: While proofreading, I realized my subconscious was probably influenced by @zepskies ’ S.I.N.G. (Beau Arlen x reader) fic — even with the different Jackles character. So, I want to give her credit for the first part of this chapter. 🤍

Title’s based on Tuesday’s Gone by Lynyrd Skynyrd.

Catch up on Chapter 3 here

Tuesday’s Gone masterlist

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You couldn’t stop the giggles, even as Russell held you firm, your back flush against his chest, his hands pinning yours effortlessly. The whole thing was just… well, kind of hot, really.

“Y/N” he sighed for the hundredth time, clearly on the edge of his patience. “You can’t giggle your way out of an actual assault. Try to focus, will you? What would you do if I were someone else?”

“But you’re you” you teased, half-joking, half-distracted. “And anyway, self-defense is kind of pointless. We live in a safe neighborhood. Nobody’s going to lay a hand on me.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, his grip tightening slightly as he paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Look, sweetheart… you’re a young, attractive woman” he said finally. “It’d just make me feel better if I knew you could handle yourself if… anything happened when I’m not around.”

At the time, you had no idea what he meant by that.

“Can you hear that?” you whispered, your ears straining in mock suspense. Russell’s brows knit together as he shot you a confused look.

“Hear what?”

“Paranoid by Black Sabbath. Pretty sure it’s coming from over here,” you said, playfully poking your finger at his temple.

He deadpanned as he repeated your name once more. It sounded almost… pleading. You didnt miss that, and though you still thought he was being over-the-top, you decided to give in.

“Fine…” you sighed “show me these life-saving moves, oh, mighty master!”

Russell cracked a grin, but his expression quickly shifted to that serious trainer look he was trying way too hard to pull off.

“Alright. First rule: break their grip. Grab my wrist… Come on, like you mean it.”

You reached out, gripping his wrist, and he showed you how to twist and pull back, making it surprisingly easy to break free. “See? Leverage, not strength” he explained.

“Okay, fine. Not bad” you admitted, trying not to let him see you were actually impressed. It was kind of cool.

He moved on, showing you a move to throw off an attacker.

“Step in close, get low, and drive your shoulder up under their chin” he said, positioning himself as the attacker. You gave it a try, and he stumbled back with a laugh.

“That’s the spirit!” he said, straightening up. You didn’t miss the small glint of pride in his eyes. “Alright, one more. This time, if someone comes at you from behind.”

Before you knew it, his arms were around you from behind, pulling you close. It was very déjà vu to the way he’d started this whole lesson. “Now, if you were actually in danger—”

“Danger, yes” you teased, leaning back into him just a bit and looked up at him through your lashes. “How’s a girl supposed to focus with such a handsome teacher breathing down her neck? I’m kind of having trouble concentrating, you know.”

He shook his head, a grin slipping out as he loosened his grip. “Laugh it up, sweetheart, but I’m serious here. You’ve got this. Just remember what I taught you, alright? What’s the most important rule!”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “When in doubt… aim for the balls.”

Russell chuckled, eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “That’s my girl” he said, pulling you into a kiss.

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A sharp throb pulsed through your skull, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in your chest. The cold floor beneath you felt like concrete, but you couldn’t be sure. For now, you kept your eyes closed, trying to piece together what the hell had happened.

The last thing you remembered was the warehouse — those two men ambushing you and Russell.

It was a trap. All of it, carefully set to lure Russell back in, and you along with him.

Your thoughts turned to Russell. He had to be here, somewhere… Somewhere close. The thought pushed you to crack one eye open. Dim light filtered through, casting shadows that made everything look warped and surreal.

You sat up slowly, feeling your muscles protest as you took in your surroundings. The room was small, cramped… more like a cell than a room.

The smell of mildew filled the air, mingling with the unmistakable metallic scent of rusted metal and something else. Blood. Your pulse quickened as you took in the details, every instinct screaming that escape wasn’t an option here.

Your gaze drifted to the far corner, where a dark shape slumped against the wall. Heart pounding, you squinted through the low light, hoping beyond hope that it was him. “Russell?” you tried to call out to him, but it was more of a whisper than anything.

A soft groan answered you, and relief mixed with dread flashed through your veins. You crawled forward, ignoring the scrape of the rough floor against your palms and knees.

As you got closer, Russell’s face came into view. It was uncharacteristically pale, smeared with a hint of dried blood. It wasn’t that bad, but still… it looked like his. His breaths were shallow, his eyes half-closed, and a few small bruises bloomed across his face and arms, telling you he hadn’t escaped this unscathed.

“Hey, Russ” you murmured, reaching out to touch his shoulder gently. His nickname felt both foreign and natural falling from your lips. It’s been a while since you called him that.

His skin was cold and clammy, but at your touch, his eyes fluttered open.

“Y/N…” he rasped with a voice that was both hoarse and somewhat defeated. He took a few moments to compose himself, but he quickly took in his surroundings. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought you with me.”

Your heart twisted, but you forced a small smile. “Not like I gave you a choice.”

He attempted a smile, but it faded rather abruptly, leaving a shadow of worry on his face. “Where’s Colter?”

“He— he’s not here” you replied scanning the cramped cell. “Do you think they’ve added him to their collection of ‘missing persons’?”

“I don’t know. I can only hope he’s busy slapping some sense into our captors while we’re stuck here” he said, as he tried to stand up.

As the weight of the situation settled in, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway.

You exchanged wary glances, instinctively stepping closer together.

The door to your cell creaked open, revealing a man in a brown suede jacket, sunglasses — mind you, it was inside a semi-dark room — flanked by two guards. Your heart raced as he stepped in, a self-assured smirk playing on his mischievous lips.

Behind him, a small figure shuffled into view, clutching a foreign stuffed toy anxiously.

Emma.

“Look who’s here” the man said, his voice dripping with mockery.

Emma’s wide eyes scanned the room, filled with confusion and fear. “Mommy?”

You felt your heart stop. “Baby girl”

As those words left your lips, Russell seemed frozen in place, his mind momentarily shutting down. It was the first time he was face-to-face with her, his daughter. He took in her small figure, the way she clutched a stuffed toy she probably got from these men tightly, and the wide green eyes that reflected the fear of the days spent in captivity.

His face shifted from pure shock to something that looked like it hurt, like a dam just burst inside him. For a second, all the chaos, the danger, everything melted away, leaving just the connection he felt for her.

But the moment didn’t last long, quickly swallowed up by the harsh reality. You saw the pain flicker in Russell’s eyes as he processed it all. “You’re okay, sweetheart” you assured Emma, stepping closer —only for Mr Douche’s goons to block your path with a grunt. You shot him a look, then turned back to Emma. “We’re getting you out of here.”

The man in his Aviators chuckled, sounding like a cold, amused cacophony. “Isn’t this all so touching?” he said with a mocking smile. Then, his face turned serious. “Shaw, it’s good to see you. Been what? Five? Six months”

Russell didn’t answer, clearly not falling to his little tricks. The man spoke up again. “But let’s not forget why we’re here. You’ve got a decision to make. And this time, it’s not just about you.”

You shot a glare his way before leaning closer to Russell. “Who the hell is this guy?” you whispered.

Russell’s answer was dry as his eyes stayed fixed on the man. “The greatest jackass of all time.”

This was James Rourke, head honcho at Horizon, the very top of the food chain in the world Russell once belonged to. Rourke looked out of place in his fancy brown suede jacket, like he’d wandered in from some luxury lounge instead of a prison cell. And his mustache — a perfectly trimmed little fucking pornstache, practically begging to be mocked — did nothing to make him look any less ridiculous.

Rourke’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying the tension. He glanced over at Emma, who clutched her stuffed toy tighter, her little eyes darting between you and Russell. “Sweet girl” he said, his voice soaked with fake warmth “you must be wondering what’s going on. Don’t worry, it’ll all make sense soon.”

“Leave her out of this,” you snapped.

Rourke tilted his head, smirking like he found your defiance cute. “Oh, sweetie,” he drawled, flashing that irritatingly smug smile. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make demands.” He glanced at Russell, his eyebrows lifted with mock surprise. “Come on, Russell. Did you actually believe you could just walk away?”

Russell’s jaw tightened. “I’m done playing by your rules, Rourke.”

Rourke’s eyes lit up with that twisted, almost playful glint, like he was savoring every second of Russell’s resistance. “Oh, Russell, you seem confused. There is no choice here. You either come back… or things might get, well, complicated.” His gaze slid over to Emma, who instinctively shrank back, catching the meaning immediately, even if not completely.

Your heart hammered in your chest. “You wouldn’t dare” you hissed.

Rourke laughed, sounding genuinely amused this time. “Oh, wouldn’t I? Let’s just say I believe in incentives.” He shot a dark look at Russell “So, either you get back in line… or your little girl here learns just how persuasive I can be.”

The room went ice-cold. Russell’s fists clenched as he glared at Rourke. “You leave her out of this. She’s got nothing to do with your mess.”

Rourke shrugged like he was discussing the weather. "Then stop pretending you’re free to leave. You knew the fine print when you signed up.” He stepped back, giving the guards a nod like they were his personal fan club. “Think it over, both of you. And just a heads-up… I don’t make empty promises.”

As Rourke strode out — with Emma being pulled by her tiny hand, crying out for wanting to stay with you — he shot a final smug look over his shoulder, and the guards followed, slamming the cell door shut behind them.

You sighed as the lock clicked, trapping you both in again. But Russell wasn’t about to throw in the towel. Staying put? Not a chance. Not with you and Emma tangled in this nightmare, and definitely not with Rourke trying to pull the strings.

His gaze swept the cell, then froze on something up high: an air vent, nearly hidden behind a stack of old crates.

“Perfect” he muttered, a hint of determination lighting up his face.

He grabbed one of the crates and slid it under the vent, then looked at you with that familiar spark in his eye. He hauled one of the crates over and tapped it, motioning for you to step up. “Give me a hand up, sweetheart. If we can get the screws loose, we’re gone.”

The nickname caught you off-guard. It fell so easily from his mouth, yet, it seemed so bittersweet now. “Sweetheart?”

He flashed a quick grin, already reaching for the vent. “Old habits die hard. Now, help me with this, yeah?”

You nodded, steadying him as he climbed up and started working on the vent cover. Using a rusty nail he pried from one of the crates, Russell twisted at the screws, working them free with grunts of effort.

With the last screw finally out, you both heard voices echoing from the hallway. Adrenaline kicked in as you climbed up and squeezed into the narrow vent, praying this actually led somewhere.

You hated this. Your claustrophobic ass was kicking you from the inside. How did you end up in a mess like this?

“How are you holding up?” he asked in a whisper, but the concern in his voice was unmistakable. Right. He remembered.

“Stop talking, continue crawling.” you said hurriedly. The less you acknowledged the suffocating surroundings, the better.

YYou crawled along, knees scraping, until you spotted a grate at the end. Kicking it loose, you dropped into a pitch-black storage room. Quietly, you slipped into the hallway beyond, letting Russell lead — his sure footing somehow both reassuring and a little unnerving.

“You know this place?” you whispered, trying to keep the nerves out of your voice.

“Nah” he muttered, casting a glance around. “Just following my instincts.”

“Oh, good. And what do your instincts say about where Emma is?”

Then, like something straight out of a scripted movie, you heard it: a small voice that was unmistakably hers. “Mommy?”

You turned the corner, and there she was, standing behind a closed door with a small window, clutching her stuffed toy. No guards in sight felt like a miracle. Relief and desperation flooded you all at once. The door was locked tight, and there was no key laying around, for obvious reasons.

You watched with a continuously racing heart as Russell pulled a paperclip from his pocket — of all things — and straightened it. “Can’t believe they missed this little bad boy” he murmured, working it into the lock. His gun and knife hadn’t been as lucky; those were gone in an instant. But the paperclip? Somehow, it had slipped right past their search.

With a quiet click, the lock gave way, and Russell shot you a quick, triumphant grin.

You threw the door wide, scooping Emma into your arms as her tiny hands clung to you like a lifeline. She was trembling. Crying.

“Shh, baby girl” you whispered, holding her close. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

Russell debated to reach out, but decided now was not the time for a great family reunion. His eyes darted down the hall. “Alright, let’s get out of here before Rourke’s even had his morning coffee.”

“What about Colter?”

“I don’t know if he’s here. And the sooner we get her and you out of here, the better chances of… this ending good.”

He knew Colter could be in hot water, but he told himself he could handle it. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself to suppress the guilt. So far, there were no signs of Colter being around, and Rourke hadn’t mentioned him at all, which made him hope his brother was safely hiding somewhere.

And his priority right now was standing in front of him.

With Emma safe in your arms, you took a breath, steeling yourself for the final sprint to freedom.

You three tiptoed down the hallway when you turned a sharp corner and spotted a guy in black standing there. No visible weapons, which was a small victory in itself.

Your heart skipped a beat, but Russell quickly pulled you back next to the wall. He weighed his options, knowing he had to act fast.

“This ain’t going to be pretty. Just—“ he said as he motioned for you to turn around. You knew well what he was planning. And that indeed wasn’t going to be pretty. You nodded with a leaping heart and turned your back to him, clutching Emma’s head close to your chest, desperately trying to muffle any sounds that might come soon.

God, she's going to need a mountain of therapy after this. And maybe that puppy she’s been talking about.

Russell shot you a quick squeeze on the shoulder, a silent promise that everything would be okay. Then he stepped forward, moving with the kind of focus that made you hold your breath. You pulled Emma close with your heart racing as the seconds felt like goddamn hours.

There was a muffled thud.... and then silence. Russell’s hand on your back signaled it was safe, and you turned to see him standing over the guard, dusting off his hands with a grim, almost satisfied look.

“Alrighty” he whispered “no more interruptions, yeah?”

You let out a shaky breath and nodded, tightening your hold on Emma. Step by step, the three of you crept down the hallway, avoiding every echo and shadow, your goal almost within reach.

Then, up ahead, an exit sign cast a faint glow. Freedom was close enough to taste, and you exchanged a quick glance with Russell. You fult that tiny flicker of hope.

You took a deep breath, squeezing Emma a little tighter. Her small arms wrapped around your neck, a reminder of why you were risking everything. You need to stay calm.

Well, seemingly calm, at least.

You and Russell exchanged a look. Words weren’t necessary; you both knew exactly what was on the line here. Funny, you thought, how his combat skills now felt like a strange kind of comfort.

Just a few more steps down the hallway, and you ended up in a large, warehouse-style room, crates stacked high, lights flickering like something straight out of a bad action movie.

“Really? A crate room?” you muttered.

Russell scanned the area, eyeing a side door. “That might be our way out.”

“Oh yeah? Is that your gut talking, or do you actually know?”

Before he could shoot back, footsteps echoed down the hall. Russell hissed a quick curse and signaled for you to duck behind a stack of crates.

You crouched down, holding Emma close as the door creaked open and two guards strolled in, giving the room a once-over like they had it all under control.

“Think they’d make it this far?” one guard muttered.

The other chuckled. “No way. Shaw’s decent, but those two he’s with? Dead weight.”

Russell sized them up and he leaned in close. “Stay low.”

You gave a small nod, clutching Emma tighter.

Russell edged closer to the guards, blending into the shadows like a pro. In one smooth motion, he slammed the first guard into the second, and they both crumpled to the ground like a pair of falling dominoes. Before they could even register what was happening, he struck with quick punches and a perfectly timed knee, leaving them both out cold and wondering what just hit them.

Once they were on the floor, Russell wasted no time. He crouched down, quickly rifling through the guards’ gear. “We’re gonna need these” he muttered, pulling a pistol from one guard’s holster and a knife from the other. With practiced ease, he tucked the pistol into his waistband and handed the knife to you. “Think you can handle it?” he asked, a smirk tugging at his lips as he looked you over.

You raised an eyebrow at the guards' bodies, really, desperately trying to convince yourself they’re just sleeping. As you gripped the knife, you tried to motion your position to cover most of the scene from Emma. It worked, she was only focused on you. And you were only focusing on the difficulty of keeping her close with one hand.

Man, she is getting big.

“Well, my self-defense teacher never covered how to use a knife” you quipped.

Russell chuckled softly, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Just use it on instinct. Don’t hesitate when it counts. And remember to—”

“To aim for the balls” you finished with a smirk.

“I’d really like to meet your teacher. Must be a real pro” he said with a smirk.

You shrugged. “Eh, he was handsome, sure. But turned out he kept secrets.”

“Sounds like a total douche” he muttered, though you caught the guilt in his voice.

“Yep. Was a major douche.”

“Was?”

You gave him a teasing glance. “Well… I’m still trying to figure out what he’s like now.”

With a small smile and a quick glance at the guards, he pocketed extra ammo and anything else that might come in handy. Armed and ready, he led you both to the side door.

With Emma snug in your arms and a renewed sense of determination, you stepped into the night together.

For a second, the three of you standing there almost looked like some offbeat family photo… bittersweet, and about as far from normal as it gets.

But the moment you took in your surroundings, you felt a chilly sensation. This sure as hell didn’t look like Idaho Falls. Nor the rundown warehouse you’d started in.

You had no idea where you were.

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Next on Tuesday’s Gone (Sneak Peak from Chapter 5)

Emma tilted her head while her expression turned adorably thoughtful. “You’re hairy. Like grandpa.”

Russell chuckled as he ran a hand through his beard. “Yeah, I guess I am. It’s my pirate look.”

Her eyes lit up at the word pirate. “Are you a pirate?! Can I be one, too?”

“Absolutely” he replied. “But we have to be sneaky pirates, okay? No one can know we’re here.”

Your heart did a little flip at the sight. The way he talked to your daughter — his daughter — his voice surprisingly soft and sweet, even in this situation. Emma’s reaction wasn’t a shock, though. She had a habit of linking beards (like the one your dad rocked) with safety and familiar love.

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Whoa, we finally got that wonderfully chaotic family reunion! Can’t wait to dive deeper into Emma and Russell’s relationship in the upcoming chapters.

I hope you enjoyed reading.

Read Chapter 5 here

🤍Taglist🤍

@bitchykittenconnoisseur @smoothdogsgirl @spnfamily-j2 @winchesterwild78 @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @zepskies @kr804573 @sebastianstangirl01 @kmc1989

#russell shaw x reader #russell shaw fanfiction #russell shaw x you #russell shaw #tracker fanfiction #tracker cbs #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fanfiction #Tuesday’s Gone

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bloodmoonmuses · 11 months ago

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stray cats, cold spaghetti | mark lee

genre: mark lee x reader, meet cute, friends to lovers (this is unedited, so forgive any typos! happy valentine's day!)

warnings: mentions of food!

summary: your cat introduces you to your new friend, mark. he's a bit more similar to an actual cat than you initially realized.

You didn’t understand the attachment people had to their pets until this stupid cat showed up. She was a stray, with mangled fur and callous eyes, who popped up some months ago. You had checked for any postings about missing pets, and even asked a few of your neighbors, but no one claimed the ratty thing. It’s not that you disliked animals entirely- you’re not a sociopath. You just aired more on the side of nonchalance.

The cat could sense this, ever since the first time you two crossed paths. You remember that night so vividly. You couldn’t sleep. You laid on your couch, staring at the ceiling, hoping slumber would whisk you away sooner than later. Just as your eyes began to flutter shut, you heard whining. Visceral, pained whining. At first, you tried to ignore it, but when you heard a sound that suspiciously sounded like a young child, you figured it’d be better to survey the situation just in case. When you opened your door to a begging cat, you sighed. Damn the neighbors for feeding this thing. Now she thinks she owns the place.

“I bet you’re hungry, huh.” The cat bore into you with bright green eyes, tilting its head as if to say, “Duh!”

So you re-entered your home, Googled “What human food can cats eat?”, and came back with canned tuna and half a carrot. The brat looked right past the carrot and inhaled the tuna, this being its first real meal of the day. In between scarfing down food, the gray cat looked at you inquisitively. “Any more where that came from?” her eyes said. She sidled up next to your leg, purring and rubbing her head against it.

“That’s all I got,” you had confessed.

You named her June, since that’s the month she came into your life. Now, you’re best friends. June is actually pretty chill. She likes watching movies with you and, strangely, likes going on walks. After getting her groomed, she’s kinda cute too. You hated to admit it, but you love June. You imagine this is how people felt about their kids- without the initial reluctance of course. June comes and goes as she pleases as if she’s still a stray, but always comes back by dinner time.

When June isn’t back at her usual time one day in October, you get a bit nervous. She never does this. Before breaking out into a full out panic, you remember she’s got a collar and a tracker from the vet now. No biggie. Opening the app that’s connected to June’s tracker, you meander down the path you usually walk with her when it’s warmer out. When you’re a few blocks from your place, you see her, relief flooding your system. Then you realize there’s a man petting her.

“Junie! June!” You run up to her, taking her into your arms. You snuggle her into a tight embrace, planting a kiss on her head. You’re so caught up in your reunion with June that you forget about the stranger standing in front of you. Oh yeah. You should probably say something. His hair is somewhere in between auburn and brown, making his face look incredibly warm. You hold June a bit tighter.

“Cute cat,” the stranger says. His voice is a bit hoarse. “Thought she was a stray before I saw the collar.” Um, okay? June’s a little rough around the edges, but she’s clearly cared for.

“Yeah, she’s mine. Do you, like, follow strays around in your free time?” you ask with a bite to your tone.

“Do you let your pet wander around like a stray in your free time?” Fair, you think, but still rude.

“She’s a free spirit,” you contest.

“So you let her wander.”

“This is the first time she hasn’t come home for dinner. Our relationship is built mostly on my ability to provide her food- which works for me.” You’re not sure why you’re explaining your relationship with your cat. Who cares what this guy thinks?

June jumps out of your arms, back to the ground, and walks up to the stranger’s legs. He bends down to resume petting her. From his crouched stance, he looks into your eyes. The eye contact makes you shiver.

“She’s sweet,” he says. “What’s her name?”

“June. She’s a charmer- and incredibly manipulative. She probably thought she could swindle you out of some food.”

“Do I look easy to take advantage of?” He asks.

You assess him. Oversized hoodie, baggy pants, sneakers covered in scuffs... Maybe he’s a dancer. Or skateboards. You’d be into that, you think. Skater boys weren’t really your thing, but they could be- as long as it’s him. If anything, the guy just looks… cozy, all bundled up like this. There’s a tinge of red on the tip of his nose from the nippy air. He’s smirking to himself at his (flirtatious) question, making his cheek look plump. You want to pinch it.

You want to make him as warm as his eyes make you feel.

You realize you’ve probably been staring. Geez, what was his question? Oh yeah. “Yeah. Like a pushover,” you say. “In the best way, of course.”

“Ouch.”

“Only a real sap would fall victim to June’s powers. She can sense lackeys. No offense.”

“I’m gonna choose to believe that means you think I’m a nice guy.”

“Nice enough.”

“I’ll take it.” The two of you stand in awkward silence for a few moments, June having finally grown bored of her new friend. The guy stands from his crouching position and sways a bit as he awaits your next move.

“Well, like I said, this little lady was late for dinner. So if it’s okay with you,” you pick up June, then continue your thought, “We’ll be heading out.”

As you turn to walk back home, the stranger says, “I… didn’t catch your name, by the way.”

Right. You introduced June, but not yourself. Go figure. “Oh. I’m ___.”

“Cool. I’m Mark.” He looks like a ‘Mark’-boyish and chipper.

“Nice to meet you, Mark. Well, have a nice night.” You start to walk again, but Mark interjects yet again.

“The sun’s setting,” he blurts it out like he’s trying to rid his mouth of the words as quickly as possible. “Can I walk you home?” Then he amends, “I live nearby, so I know it gets kinda dark in this neighborhood. Not many street lights.”

You think about it. You’re not getting any serial killer vibes, plus he’s already passed the June test. (And if you're being honest, he's very cute.) “Um, sure. Thanks.”

The two of you walk in silence, save for June’s purring. When you make it to your apartment building, you stop. Your gut is twisting, mind fixating on the warmth radiating off Mark’s body. Your fingertips are whirring with electricity. You have a bad idea.

“Would you maybe… wanna come in for dinner?” Mark turns to look at you. “I never really learned how to cook for one person, so I always have a bunch of leftovers.”

It’s a lie, but not entirely. You like to cook enough food for the entire week. Mark doesn't need to know this, you conclude.

Mark nods to himself. “Uh, sure. I could eat.”

As soon as you place June down in your apartment, she sprints to her food bowl. Silly girl.

“Sorry about the mess. Wasn’t expecting company,” you say. “I hope you like spaghetti.”

“Love it,” Mark responds. (You’d later find out this was a lie.)

“Perfect.”

That’s how you and Mark became friends- similarly to how June came into your life. You fed him. In all honesty, he wasn’t that fond of your spaghetti. He just liked the way you smiled each time he took a bite. The two of you continued to get to know one another while making food. Neither of you are great cooks, so you usually team up. It’s become a love language of sorts, sending recipes back and forth to try. You look forward to eating with Mark more than anything these days.

You’re more than aware of your underlying feelings for Mark, but you’ve managed to temper them. You don’t want to scare him off, but the tension is relentless. You’re making tiramisu and your shoulders touch. You’re piping flowers on a cupcake while Mark pulls tendrils of hair away from your face. You’re whisking meringue into stiff peaks while Mark hums to June in the living room. It’s heart achingly domestic.

Oftentimes you imagine Mark as your husband. In your daydreams the two of you are wearing matching aprons, flour dusting his nose. He kisses you, a fit of giggles attacking your system. You’re absolutely smitten and unabashedly so.

In reality, today is Valentine’s Day. Mark suggests he comes over and makes pizza. You don’t think Mark realizes what day it is until you suggest making your pizzas heart shaped. He says he forgot to buy his friend Jaehyun a birthday gift.

“This is, like, kinda romantic.” If being covered in pizza sauce and flour is romantic, then yes. This was very romantic. You have a nice spread here- fresh basil, mozzarella, alfredo sauce, vodka sauce, roma tomatoes… It smells so nice. Mark keeps sneaking chunks of cheese into his mouth. He looks like a little mouse. June is fast asleep on the couch. You’ve finally perfected the heart shape of your dough, and begin to spread alfredo sauce on your pizza.

“Your parameters for romance are very strange, Mark Lee.”

“If you close your eyes, it’s like we’re in Italy.” When he says things like this, they only fuel your daydreams. You blame the flush of your face on the preheating oven.

“Venice, I hope.”

“Of course.”

Mark’s pizza looks more like an anatomical heart than the kind you’d doodle in a notebook. He scoffs when you tell him this, feigning offense.

“Should I remind you of how your cinnamon rolls came out a few weeks ago?” They were awful. At a certain point, you had given up and rolled them into balls.

“My cinnamon rolls/balls were innovative and transcendent.”

“I don’t even know how you messed them up,” Mark says as he puts the pizzas in the oven, “We bought pre-made dough.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When the pizzas are done baking, the two of you sit at the dinner table. It’s a different feel for the two of you, seeing as you usually eat together on the couch. You take a bite of your pizza, savoring the taste.

“Not bad. Wanna taste?” Mark nods. Instinctively, the two of you swap plates, trying each others’ creations.

“I think you’re better at making savory foods.”

“I agree.”

You and Mark continue to eat your pizzas, taking gulps of your respective drinks in between bites. Beer for Mark, white wine for you. Jazz plays softly from your shitty phone speaker, and June’s snores fill in the gaps of silence. After a bit, Mark’s face goes red from the alcohol. You liked seeing him tipsy. He gets all wavy and fluid, unconsciously swaying side to side like a daisy in the wind. Your face feels fuzzy from the wine and you find yourself biting your tongue.

You’ve had to be more conscious of your alcohol intake around Mark lately. It felt as if at any moment, your love for him would simply become unbearable. Recently, it’s been hard to just look at him- even while sober. Tonight, apparently, you threw caution to the wind.

“Mark?” you say.

“Hmm….” He’s drifting away, lethargic from the food and beer. You repeat his name again, this time getting his full attention. When his glassy eyes meet yours, the force behind them knocks the wind out of you.

“Yes?” says Mark. He takes another sip of beer.

You can’t do this, you think, backtracking entirely. The lie escapes as a garbled mess of words: “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You take a nervous gulp of your wine.

Mark slams his fist on the table, in a drunken stupor. The sound startles you, but there’s no malice behind his motion. In fact, he’s laughing to himself. “Bullshit.”

“I really did lose my train of thought. Maybe it’ll come back to me.”

“I know you’re lying. Like you lied about that cold ass spaghetti you used to lure me in!” he says, referencing the night you met. The spaghetti wasn’t that cold…

“I really did make too much spaghetti that night! Plus, you kept June safe. It was the least I could do!”

Mark begins to gather your plates and cups, walking over to the kitchen to place them in the sink. As he stands, he says, “I won’t force you to say it, but I know you’re lying.”

Then he moves to run the faucet. The rushing water fills the silence like TV static, buzzing and itching in your ears. Your throat is burning. You want to talk to him openly, honestly- but something’s stopping you. Mark washes the dishes wordlessly. With his back turned to you, his words hang heavy in the air. Mark never pries but simultaneously knows you so intimately. You love being known by him. You love knowing him.

You simply love him.

“Why’d you walk me home that night?” Your voice barely pierces the air. The question practically squeaks out of you.

“What?” Mark turns off the facet and dries his hands on a towel, turning to look at you.

“The night we met. Why’d you walk me home?”

He contemplates the question for a moment, closing his eyes to visualize the night. Then he says, “Wanted to make sure you got home safely.”

The moment is delicate and fragile. You’re scared that if not nimble enough, if not cradled with the utmost gentleness, it will shatter. You proceed with caution.

“Mark?” At the sound of his name, Mark returns to his seat at the dining table.

“I think… I love you.” Mark chuckles. “Don’t laugh!”

“You think?” he says, now breaking out into a full-bodied laugh.

“Yeah. I think so.”

“I love you too.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “...I think.”

“Very funny, asshole.”

Mark reaches over the table and places a chaste kiss upon your lips. “Okay, I think I’m a little more sure now,” he says.

“Need some more reassurance?” you ask. Mark nods.

You lean in to kiss him this time, and just before your lips touch, you hear whining. You pull back to look down, seeing June curled up beneath your chair. Her timing is always impeccable. The two of you giggle, sealing the moment with a fervent kiss. You melt into his touch, the elation coursing through your veins. When you come up for air, you meet Mark’s eyes.

“What?” he says. “I’m a better kisser than you thought?”

“I was just wondering… you’re still gonna wash the dishes, right?”

#bloodmoonmuses #nct 127 #nct 127 fluff #mark lee #mark lee fic #mark lee fluff #mark lee x reader

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iguana-eyanna · 1 month ago

Text

To Break A Frozen Heart

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Summary: Sherlock loses the meaning of Christmas since he was a boy, but maybe he just needed a certain warmth to melt his frozen heart.

The frost-painted windowpanes scattered the shops illuminated the scene of bustling cheer as the distant songs of carolers echoed through the streets of London. Carriages were passing through the snow roads as young couples looked lovingly in each other's eyes.

Sherlock Holmes, on the other hand, observed the merriment with a distasteful frown as he was riding in the icy streets in a carriage. He adjusted his scarf, though the cold air was creeping in his lungs.

He hated Christmas with a passion. Since he was a child, his family was estranged to "affection" and "spirit of the holidays".

His mother did try to care for them but his father was a strict man, barely uttering a word to him and Mycroft as they were sent to reform school with no warning. No Christmas present was sent to the boys and Sherlock often escaped to the roof of his school and stared up in the stars, hoping that a shooting star could grant him just one Christmas to be spent with someone who cared for him.

But alas, his father later passed when Enola was a babe, Mycroft decided to be a stern government official, his mother shut off herself and Enola from the world, and Sherlock was forced to figure out life himself.

And now against his beliefs of staying at home and relearning Mozart's Symphony on his violin, he was forced to ride with a special heiress to one of the biggest landowners in England: You to be in fact. You were both traveling to Saint Jerome's orphanage as you often came to do acts of service and spend time with the children.

“I still don’t understand your enthusiasm for this season,” he muttered, looking at you with unamused eyes.

You, on the other hand, were glowing—dressed in a rich yet simple gown that complemented the joy dancing in your features, too gleeful to notice Sherlock's demeanor.

“Sherlock,” you said, placing a gentle hand on his lap.

“Christmas is a time to give, to bring warmth to those who need it. Surely, even the great detective can see the value in that.”

He huffed but said nothing as you wrapped your scarf tighter and prepared for the day’s itinerary. It was your first holiday with Sherlock, and you wanted to help warm up his cold heart. You thought maybe if you put things into perspective, he could find the child like joy he once forgot and take your courtship to a new beginning. But for now, you were grateful to take this one step with him.

Soon, you arrived to the St. Jerome's as Sherlock assisted you out of the carriage alongside a few sacks of treats and toys that you bought for the children.

"Oh Madam! It is so lovely to see you again." Mary, an elderly Scottish woman who was the main guardian said as she walked up to the two of you.

"Mary! It is lovely to see you again. I want to introduce you to a very special someone in my life, Mister Holmes."

Sherlock takes off his hat for formality and nods his head.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." He says respectfully.

"Come, come. Let us talk inside before you meet the children." She ushers you inside.

"We're going to meet the children?" He asks, not expecting to mingle.

You give him a stern look, ushering him to keep his snide remarks to himself as he reluctantly agrees to stay silent.

"Have any of the young boys and girls gone to new homes yet?" You ask as you settled in her office with Sherlock.

"A few have found homes, but some weren't so lucky. But we try to give them a good foundation here."

"I know Mary, you do so much work here. Never doubt that." You said as you gave her an enormous hug. Sherlock notices your deep connection to the guardian and ponders the relationship until a younger woman arrives in the office.

"Mary, the children are eager to meet the Madam as they saw her carriage by the front."

You smile widely, looking at Mary for permission. She couldn't help but smile back at you and cross her arms.

"You know what to do, love. Have fun."

Sherlock had to race after you with the leftover bags as you went into the dining hall where the children yelled out for joy at your presence.

You started to give fresh fruits, sweets, miniature wooden horses, trains, dolls to the young boys and girls. Sherlock saw how you embraced the children with such a free spirit, not fearing of ruining your dress or pick pocketing your personal items. You trusted these kids and they trusted you.

"Excuse me mister," a young boy says as he pulls the partial fabric from Sherlock's coat.

"I like your watch." He points out to the pocket watch that Sherlock sported.

"Oh... Thank you. It was my father's." He said, slowly kneeling to the boy's eye view.

"My father died last winter. Me and my sister couldn't keep any of his things." he said, bowing his head.

Sherlock felt a sudden pang in his chest. Was it remorse? He couldn't recognize the feeling but his eyes soften.

"I'm sorry to hear. My father died when I was younger too." Sherlock said.

"It's okay to cry. My sister, Florence, says it's okay to cry sometimes."

"Elias, where are you?" A voice cried out as the young boy in front of him whipped his head.

A girl who looked about 12 years old went up to the boy and Sherlock.

"Elias, I told you not to walk off without me knowing. I thought you ran off again!" The sister, Sherlock presumed, said as she held Elias tightly.

"Sorry, Florence." Elias said as he looks down.

Florence looks at the man suspiciously as she held Elias' hand.

"I'm sorry for the trouble mister. It won't happen again." She said as she ran off with Elias in tow.

Sherlock rose up, seeing the two siblings escape in the flow of children that were now eating or playing with their toys. He brushed himself off as he sought out to find you. He was bewildered to see you outside in the snow field as you were kicking a ball between the children in your velvet gown and heeled boots. You were smiling ear to ear, and saw how your nose was red like a cranberry. It made Sherlock chuckle a bit as he watched from afar.

“Mr. Holmes,” Mary said softly, approaching him with a cup of tea as Sherlock gratually took it.

“You’re lucky to have her. She’s a treasure.”

Sherlock beams with sudden pride. “I’m well aware.”

Mary looks and sees you tumble down accidentally from a sheet of ice. Sherlock almost ran out to help you, but you just broke into a fit of laughter. He even saw Florence and Elias nearby as they tried to help you up and saw how you talked to them intently.

"How often does she visit here?" He asks curiously.

"Since she became a young woman. Sure, high society would throw a coin our way to help them feed their reputation but not her. She comes every Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. She's an angel whose soul cradles a mother’s love, though her body cannot.”

Sherlock whips his head to her, knitting his eyebrows.

Mary frowned. “Did she ever tell you?"

The conflicted man turns away and looks down at the ground.

"No, she did not."

As the sun began to set, you bid a sad farewell to the children as they waved you goodbye as you left with Sherlock. Along the ride to your estate, you were confused of Sherlock's silence.

As you two shared a tense Christmas Eve meal together, you could sense his mind was elsewhere. It wasn't until you had enough and spoke aloud.

"Sherlock."

He blinks repeatedly, realizing he never touched his dinner.

"Is everything alright?" You ask with concern.

He looks up to you, feeling his emotions get the best of him.

"You lied to me." He says in a small voice.

"What do you mean?" You ask again.

Sherlock tried to lock eyes with you, but he couldn't face you.

"Why didn't you tell me you couldn't bear children?"

Your eyes rounded as well as your lips, but you set aside your cutlery as you placed your hands in your lap.

"Mary told you..." You said, not surprised.

Sherlock rose from his seat and started pacing around.

"I should have seen the signs. You showed no symptoms of your courses when we were together-"

"Sherlock..."

"-and when we pass new parents with their baby you wipe a tear from your face-"

"Sherlock-"

"-and all of these trips to St. Jerome's. You're just trying to fill this hole in your heart-"

"ENOUGH!" You stood up as he stopped. You couldn't believe what he just acclaimed, and you knew you had to put him in his place.

"This is why I didn't tell you, Sherlock. Firstly, I am not a case to be deduced and secondly, I dearly love those children. What you accuse otherwise is a distasteful remark."

You sit back down, feeling your words choke but refused to make eye contact with him.

"I was 17 when I found out. All my hopes to become a mother just... faded away. But then I see all of these children alone and cold during this time of year. That's when my purpose changed, that's when I wanted to become something bigger than myself."

Sherlock looks at your somber state, feeling the guilt rise up his throat. He tries to get closer to you.

"I... I didn't mean-"

You raise your hand in between you and him to create space.

"You have been nothing but cold and small minded today, Sherlock. I don't want someone like that in my life. And for that, I ask for you to leave, now."

Sherlock was stunned by your words but you were right. He has hurt your honor, and he was only making things worse with his presence.

He rushes out of the dining room and collected his coat and hat, as he heard soft cries behind him.

Sherlock just decided to walk back to his apartment to make sense of your past secret.

Why did you not tell him? How did he not notice all these clues?

His thoughts grew louder until a small figure bumped into him and ran away.

Sherlock looks down to see if anything was missing until he realized his pocket watch was missing. He whips his head back and forth until he sees the same figure by a lamp post.

"You! Stop there!" Sherlock yells as he raced the fast figure.

They were at an arm's length and Sherlock grabbed them by the arm and turned them around, wanting to confront his burglar.

"Alright young man, why did you do such a-"

Sherlock's words get swallowed as he realizes he found Florence, whose hair was tucked in a hat as she held the clock firmly in her other hand.

"I'm sorry sir, I had to! Please don't turn me into the police. I'm the only family Elias has!"

Sherlock's face slacks as he unfurls his brow and gives a solemn look.

"I won't turn you in, but we are going to St. Jerome's to have a chat with Miss Mary."

Sherlock returns back to the orphanage with Florence as Mary shares fruitful words to the young girl.

"How dare you steal this man's watch, Florence. After everything him and the Madam did for us today... what do you say to him?" She scolds.

Florence looks back to the tall man and lowers her head.

"I'm sorry again Mr. Holmes." As she began to almost tear up.

Sherlock kneels down and gently smiles at her.

"It's alright Florence. My only hopes is that you never steal again."

"Go to bed, my dear girl, we will discuss your punishment tomorrow morning." Mary says.

Florence runs off, and Sherlock suddenly feels another pang in his chest.

"I do hope you don't give her a heavy punishment. She only had good intentions for her brother." He says as Mary sat by her table.

"We do not give rash punishments, but she will help around with chores around the building. But her heart is in the right place. Elias was sought for adoption, but he refused as he didn’t want to be separated from his sister since they didn’t have enough money to have the two of them. Florence must have thought if she could find the funds, they’d still be with each other.”

"That's a shame. They look very close to another." Sherlock responds, still thinking of his time here during the day.

"Do you have any siblings, Mr. Holmes?" Mary asks.

"A younger sister and an older brother." He says.

"Are you close to them?" She asks.

"I... try." He says, recollecting when was the last time he has been with Enola and Mycroft in the same vicinity.

But his thought fly elsewhere as his fixation of you grew.

"How did I not know of her condition?" he mutters to himself.

"We are often blinded from certain truths when one falls in love." Mary said as she goes up to the detective, who looked like he was carrying the weight of the world.

"When I first met the Madam, I knew from the start that she had an ache in her soul. But she pushed her problems away cause she there was so many others who faced more struggle than her. She may not mother children, but she's the reason why young boys and girls are given a childhood. Shouldn't that count for something?"

Sherlock stiffened, his sharp mind piecing together every memory, every fleeting comment you’d made about your past. He realized he’d never asked deeply, never probed. You’d shared your wealth, your kindness, and your heart, but not your history.

That shouldn't be the reason he should lose you forever.

"There's something I must do... but i acquire great help."

Mary beams proudly.

"Let's get to work."

You look out your window, seeing the snow fall down in the streets. It was Christmas evening, and it was silent in your estate. Although it was adorned with decorations and your staff grateful that they have been given bigger income for this time of year, your heart still felt heavy. You tried to move on and forget what Sherlock has said to you.

You then gotten dressed for the day as you were to return for the orphanage to help cook a Christmas dinner for the young children.

As you soon arrived, you knit your brow as many carriages lined around the streets of St. Jerome’s. Many status of class arrived with high spirits as you saw them holding boxed gifts or pantries of food. Once you entered the building, you gasped at the sight.

The building you we’re once in just the other day is filled of working class and upper class that mingled together as they entertained the children with songs or shared a meal together. Little boys and girls circled around a man who was carrying them or throwing them up in the air as they yelled for joy.

The man then resembled to…

“Sherlock?” You question yourself.

“Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes, love?” Mary asks as you whip your head to her

“Mary, what is going on?” You inquire.

“Sherlock happened. He stayed up all night decorating and spreading the word that that every child deserves a home. I was afraid there wouldn’t be enough children to go to new families but Mr. Holmes assured me otherwise.”

“That is correct. I contacted my family and they were quite moved to make sure no one was left behind.” Sherlock walks up to the two of you as he was smiling ear to ear.

You look around and you see a group of girls huddled around a group of women who were teaching them a sort of defense class as the young girls looked bewildered. An older woman winks at you before she returns her lesson.

You see Sherlock’s older brother, Mycroft, as he was reading A Christmas Carol to young children and adults. He looked so at ease, you almost didn’t recognize the man.

You then saw Enola as she was holding a young boy’s hand, as she introduced him to a distant relative that lived in the country side. They had a joyful reunion as you couldn’t help but wipe a tear from your eye.

“Sherlock, this is so wonderful.” You said.

Sherlock holds you in his arms as you felt the warmth radiating from his chest.

“Darling, you started this. Once I told others your name and how you devoted your time and wealth at St. Jerome’s, they found it in their hearts to do the same. I know I did.”

He brought you to a quiet corner as he held both of your hands.

"I have been unfair and unkind to you. The words I exchanged... they were out of insecurity. I hope that you can forgive me."

"Of course I do, Sherlock..."

"No. It's not enough. You've given so much to me in the time that i've known you. Your generosity, your ambition, your character... it makes me want to be a better man for you."

He kneels down with one knee and you gasp silently, slightly shaking your hands.

"Sherlock..." You knelt down as your eyes grew wide.

"I want to grow with you. I want us to build our life in an abundance of love and generosity. I want us to grow our family-"

"But you know I can't give you that." You said, your eyes watering.

"That's why they have something to give you." He said, motioning behind.

You saw Elias and Florence smiling widely as the young boy held the paper for you to grab. You reach over, confused until you open the seal, gasping loudly as you switch your head between the siblings and Sherlock.

"You're going to adopt them?" You ask.

"We are going to adopt them. You've shown me that family lies deeper than blood and bone. I want us to experience everything in this world, if you have me."

"And us!" Florence said, as she and Elias neared the two of you.

Sherlock laughs as he grabs a ring from his pocket and offers it to you.

"Will you make me the happiest man on Christmas Day and marry me?"

You nod your head as you smile ear to ear, grabbing Sherlock's face as you kiss him tenderly. An echoes of "ews" were exchanged between the siblings until you and Sherlock locked them in an enormous embrace.

"So we're going to be a family?" Elias asks you.

"Yes, my little Eli... we will together every Christmas, birthday, and every other day." You said

"I like that very much." Florence commented, smiling between her parents.

"Me too," Sherlock concluded, as he gave you one last kiss before you four walked back to the festivities where you shared the news and cheer.

These were the moments you cherished the most with your future husband, as life became a little more merry.

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes enola holmes #sherlock holmes fic #sherlock holmes henry cavill #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic

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