#i was lamenting a while ago over not feeling very heard. or stifled rather.

[sapsolais]

!

[mammonshuman92]

- Sapphire - Pt. 2

(Mammon x MC)

part one | part three |

NOTE: F!MC

“Warm skin, the color of caramel, electricity felt in the slightest of touches.

Hair born of the winter, soft as the Heavens from where it once reigned.

Completely enamored by this creature, I would also happily fall from grace.”

Hair born of winter? Fall from grace? Tan skin?

Wait. That sounds like..

Realization hit him like a truck.

“..It’s about me..” He whispered, barely audible even to himself.

His chest felt like it was going to explode. His stomach so full of butterflies he felt nauseous.

He couldn’t believe it..

--

“Hey, great job out there kid. The crowd really liked you.” The man who had been the emcee for the open mic night was shuffling around backstage, putting away equipment and cleaning up. “We do this on the 2nd Thursday every month, if you’re interested.” 

“Thanks! I’d love to.” You were beaming.

Being out there, under the spotlight, reciting your work that you had poured your heart into, full of all the emotion you had to keep to yourself, was so empowering. You were on top of the world.

You thanked the man again and made your way to the exit. Just outside the door, a rather attractive demon was perched against the wall. Upon seeing you, he smiled and left his place on the wall, coming toward you.

He looks kind of familiar. Does he go to RAD?

Never having seen him outside of a RAD uniform before, you quickly pieced together that the guy was in your Devildom History class. From the few interactions you’d had with him in class, you knew he was pretty nice and also enjoyed poetry. The two of you talked and laughed for a few minutes.

“Next time you gotta tell your boyfriend to get here earlier so he can get a better seat.” He said.

Boyfriend?

“I don’t have a boyfriend.” You said, lightly shaking your head.

“Oh”, his eyebrows scrunched, “Well, the two of you are always together at RAD so I just assumed..”

Oh God..

No.

This isn’t happening.

You tried to keep your cool, but it was too late. The color drained from your face. The back of your neck felt cold and prickly. You felt sick.

Mammon was here. He heard ..everything.

“Anyway, he left right after you got off stage. He looked kinda mad.” The guy said.

...Mad? 

Oh God. My stupid poem freaked him out! It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who I was referring to. He’s probably grossed out that a human has a crush on him.

What were you thinking?

--

After you had finished reading and walked off stage, Mammon immediately stood up and went outside. He needed air. Hearing the words you were saying caused his eyes to prick with tears.

There’s no way. I’m getting somethin’ confused somewhere. Have to be.

Once outside, the cool air hit his face and he took some deep breaths, on the verge of panic.

“There’s no way that was about me.” He kept whispering to himself.

Why would you write something like THAT about him? He’s just a scumbag after all.

Yeah, just a scumbag. Don’t get your hopes up.

His face fell. In the brief moment he got to believe that you loved him, he’d never been happier.

If it wasn’t about him, who was it about? The description was uncanny, and not many demons look like him. Not that you know, anyway.

As the questions swirled around his brain, he saw you walk outside the coffee shop. Before he could react, he saw a demon who was waiting outside the exit, strike up a conversation with you.

Who’s that? Does she know him?

Mammon stepped behind a magazine stand trying to hide, but still watch your interaction with the unknown demon. You’d been in the Devildom long enough to travel close to home without being messed with, but it still made him nervous. He kept his eyes fixed on the two of you.

He watched as you chatted and laughed with the good looking demon, growing more jealous and hurt by the second. Unable to watch anymore, he stormed off in the direction of the House of Lamentation.

“Maybe she does have a boyfriend. She seemed to know that guy pretty good.” He scoffed.

He wasn’t mad at you, he couldn’t be. He was mad at himself. Maybe if he had told you how he felt you wouldn’t have been chatting it up with that pretty boy. 

But what about the poem? That’s gotta mean somethin’ right?

When he got back to the house, he went straight to his room and slammed the door, nearly running Asmo over in the process.

“Hey! Rude.” Asmo called after him.

He didn’t care at the moment. He just needed to be alone. The weight of it all was too much.

As quickly as his love for you was reciprocated, it was ripped away. This time, he didn’t try to hold back the tears.

--

Shit, shit, shit! What now?!

You cursed yourself the entire way home. How are you supposed to just walk in nonchalantly like Mammon didn’t just hear you confess your entire soul? Not to mention  the fact he apparently looked mad.

Ugh. I wonder is Solomon knows a spell that’ll open up the Earth and swallow me whole?

You quietly walked up the front steps to the House of Lamentation and opened the door slowly. Peaking in to see if anyone was around, thankfully not, you carefully made your way inside.

If I can just make it to my room, I’ll be fine.

You crept up the stairs and down the hall. The coast was clear.

Once you got close enough you ran inside your room, shutting the door quickly behind and for the first time since right after moving in, you locked your door.

Usually the brothers come and go out of room, which you don’t mind but tonight you just wanted to be alone.

You dropped your bag on the floor with a hard thud, and sank down to the floor, burying your face in your hands.

How could you be so careless? You should’ve known one of them would figure out where you were. I just wish it hadn’t been THAT one.

*knock knock knock*

The light tapping on the door made you jump put of your skin. Your hands flew to your mouth to stifle the small yelp you let out.

Just stay quiet. Whoever it is will go away.

“MC? It’s me. I know you’re in there.”

It’s just Asmo.

With a sigh of relief, you stood to unlock the door and let Asmo in, quickly shutting the door behind him. He made a face at your strange behavior.

“Hello to you too. And was your door locked? What’s that about?” He almost sounded offended, turning to face you.

“So, what happened?” He asked.

You were a little caught off guard but tried to play it cool.

“What do you mean?”

He perched himself on the edge of your bed.

“Well, this afternoon when I got home from shopping Mammon asked me where you were, seeing as you told him you were going with me. Then, he came home just a little while ago, visibly upset. He nearly ran me over on his way to his room.” He explained.

Crap! Had I let Asmo in on my lie about going shopping with him, I probably could’ve avoided this entire fiasco.

“He was mad?” You asked, voice getting quiet.

Asmo nodded, “Very.” He replied.

That made your heart hurt.

I’ve really done it this time.

--

Avoiding Mammon was going to be hard. The two of you practically did everything together. Did you really have a choice though? You can’t face him right now.

Breakfast was the easiest. Mammon is always late, so all you had to do was wake up early. 

Beel is usually the first one to breakfast, so I can ask him if he’d walk with me to RAD. I’ll study with Satan as usual, and I can spend more time with Levi and hide out in his room or nap with Belphie.

This sucks.

It’s not that you don’t enjoy the time you spend with the other brothers, because of course you do, but you miss your best friend.

The walk to RAD with Beel was quiet. He could tell that you were sad, and didn’t want to make you talk if you didn’t want to. Before you went your separate ways to your classes, he gave you one of his big squeezy, pick-you-up-off-the-ground hugs. It made you feel a bit better. How could it not? It’s Beel.

--

The day went rather smoothly, not once bumping into Mammon. Come to thin of it, you hadn’t seen him at all today.

Maybe he skipped? You thought.

The thought made you breathe a little easier, considering your last class of the day is Devildom History, which is one of the few classes the two of you have together.

You sat in your usual seat, and looked at the empty one next to you that Mammon usually sat in. Your heart started to hurt again.

Trying to distract yourself, you started going over your notes for the upcoming test. When the seat next to you scooted out, your heart stopped beating.

Oh my God! Just stay calm. Don’t freak out. Breathe, dumbass. You chanted to yourself.

“Hey.” he said, as he sat down. You looked up at the demon next to you.

It’s the guy from the coffee shop.

Phew! That was close. Your heart rate started to return to normal.

“Hi.” You replied with a faint smile.

As students kept filing into class, the two of you talked back and forth about the upcoming test  and other school related topics. He seems like a pretty nice guy. Why was he sitting next to you though? Surely he knows who always sits there. Although, it was nice to have someone to talk about poetry with.

Just then, as the bell rang loudly signaling the beginning of class, someone came running through the door.

Mammon.

Shit! I thought he wasn’t here today!

Cue heart rate acceleration.

Mammon looked at you, and the occupied seat next toy you. His seat.

His face distorted.

You kept your head down trying to avoid eye contact. The guy next to you, I think he said his name was Ezra? I don’t even remember, stiffened at Mammon’s reaction to seeing him in his seat.

Mammon made his way to the back of the class to the only empty seat near a bunch of succubi. Their expressions lit up when he sat down. That made your heart hurt.

Their reaction to just sitting near him, just proved how insane you were for thinking he could ever have feelings for a human.

The class seemed to drag on forever. You couldn’t wait to get far away from there.

I’m definitely texting Solomon about that “Earth opening” spell.

--

When the bell signaling the end of class finally rang, you hurriedly made your escape.

I gotta get out of here, and fast before he can catch up.

With zero hesitation, you walked as fast as you could, nearly jogging, to the House of Lamentation. If you could just get to your room again without being stopped, you were in the clear.

Plowing through the front door and running up the stairs, you made it to your room without being discovered. It looked as though you were the first one home.

You opened your bedroom door, and stepped inside feeling accomplished. Before you could turn and shut the door, it was slammed shut.

You jumped and screamed as though the murderer you were trying to outrun had finally caught up to you.

You turned to see that it was Mammon who had slammed the door.

You would’ve rather it had been the murderer.

| part three |

[sanktnikolais]

Right Here, With You

A/N: More role swap au bc i love this au sm and i am trash for guard Nik and crown princess Zoya, plus Lada being the best wingman ft. the Bataar twins KHJASDKLJ and also bc @wafflesandkruge wanted more role swap au

Word count: 2271

When you were forced to kneel before royalty, it meant you were about to plead for them to spare your life. 

          But for Nikolai’s case, it was for an entirely different reason. 

          He waited patiently with his eyes closed as per the request of the princess. But it had already been a few minutes and still nothing had happened. 

          "Am I supposed to be worried, princess?" he asked, inclining his head to the side to try and hear what could she be doing. But the wind blowing around them muffled everything. "I'm afraid I might accidentally fall asleep in this position." 

          "Be patient, Nicky," Lada said, and Nikolai almost laughed at the nickname. He was reminded of the time he introduced himself with that name to a certain crown princess. "Tolya and Tamar didn't even complain when I made them wait."

          The twin guards had disappeared for a while now, to check on something they said. They’d both left in a hurry, and if it was some other time, Nikolai would have been worried that they’d sensed upcoming trouble in the palace. 

          But the look on their faces only showed amusement that he found a bit strange. In the years he had known them, they only made that look whenever they were planning to pull a prank on him. 

          Now that he thought of it, he sighed in exasperation. Lada must have made them an accomplice to whatever she was doing. 

          Nikolai chuckled. "A good point," he said, shifting on his other knee and resting his arm over it. "I do hope this isn't some sort of prank with you bolting quietly and leaving me here looking like I'm proposing to the wind." 

          Lada giggled. "Tempting, but no," she said. There was a hint of mischief in the little princess' tone when she added, "This is much better."

          Nikolai’s eyebrows furrowed. If there was anything else the younger princess was other than smart, it was mischievous. "Now I am worried." He paused, risking a peek on one eye, but he only had a second of seeing a blur of colors before she was covering his eyes with her small hands. 

          "No fair! I said no peeking!" Lada complained, and then he felt a rather strong flick on his forehead. "Now I know why you and Zoya get along. You're both stubborn." 

          The mention of the crown princess’ smile brought a smile to his lips. "I am merely trying to get some air back in my eyes, little princess," he said. 

          "Don't worry, it's almost—" Lada stopped abruptly, making Nikolai furrow his eyebrows. He was about to open his eyes when he felt her hand patting his head. "I know you're tempted, but no peeking." 

          "Are we waiting for night time?" 

          The younger princess giggled again. "One second," she said. 

          He waited again, and after another moment, he felt something soft placed on his head. 

          "Open your eyes." Lada's voice came again, the mischief from earlier now replaced with a hint of excitement. 

          Nikolai did what he was told and opened his eyes, squinting slightly from the light. The younger princess' bright smile greeted him when his sight finally adjusted. His hand shot up to his head. 

          Around it was what he felt to be a flower crown. 

          "There you go," said Lada, her smile only growing wider as she clasped both of her hands to her chest. "You're a prince now."

          A smile twitched to Nikolai’s lips as he looked over the younger princess fondly. She really was the Palace’s ray of sunshine. “I am honored, Your Highness,” he said, bowing his head. Then with a curious look, he asked, "A prince of what, if I may know?" 

          He heard her stern voice cut through the gardens even before Lada could reply. "Alright, you two, this is getting obnoxious. Just tell me where we're going," Zoya complained.  "I still have a lot of training to do—" 

          Lada practically squealed and jumped down from the small rock she was sitting on. She bolted towards her older sister with excitement. Nikolai got up and followed his gaze to the two royals, his smile turning fond as he watched the young princess grab at her sister's hand. 

          And pulled her towards him. 

          He blinked. Zoya's usual dresses were replaced by an armor over a tunic and trousers, something he rarely saw her in. Even back when he first saw her more than a decade ago, unsure and holding the sword incorrectly, she had been wearing a loose dress. 

          Now she looked different. She looked better. Strong. Regal. Beautiful. 

          Still so beautiful. 

          He couldn't help staring. 

          "What—" Zoya stopped when their eyes met. 

          Nikolai felt his breath hitch as if he was embarrassed of getting caught gawking. A surge of warmth bloomed in his chest. He really had it bad. Behind her, the twins stood, both of them giving him a knowing look. Tamar wiggled her eyebrows and winked. Heat rose up to his ears, making him avert his eyes. 

          He would never hear the end of their teasing later in their quarters. 

          The crown princess frowned, making him snap out of his thoughts. He raised a questioning eyebrow. 

          She pointed a finger as his head. "Where did that come from?"

          "Yours truly," Lada answered for him, grinning up to her sister. She pushed Zoya forward until she was in front of Nikolai, and it was only when he realized that they were suddenly close. 

          He automatically took a step back. "I, uh, good morning, Your Highness." He winced on how breathless he sounded. He cleared his throat. "It's good to see you." 

          Wow, real smooth, Lantsov, Nikolai scolded in his head. Saints, he was like a hopeless boy embarrassing himself in front of the girl he liked. A situation which was most likely true. 

          Zoya raised an eyebrow, an amused expression on her face. "Are you alright, Captain? 

          "Of course." He shook himself and  regained his composure. He put on his signature grin, finding it come to him easily. "Why wouldn't I be?"

          Lada cleared her throat. "Alright, I will save you from further embarrassing yourself, Nicky," she said as she climbed the boulder in front of them. 

          Nikolai held his arm out to guide the younger princess up, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Zoya do the same. 

          "I'm okay," Lada said. She stared at them both for another moment, then she smiled. "Perfect, everyone's here. Let's get to the final part of the ceremony."

          A frown appeared on Nikolai’s face. "What ceremony?" 

          "Why, your wedding, of course." 

          He sputtered, and Zoya went still beside him. He tried to ignore the sting in his chest. It wasn't as if someone like her would look at a mere guard like him, much less marry him. But it still pricked at his heart all the same. 

          "I can't believe you made me come here for that," Zoya said, shaking her head. Nikolai would have believed that she was mad had there not been an amused smile playing on her lips. "But I guess I'll play along." 

          "The crown princess suddenly playing along?" he said and raised a brow. "Very, very unexpected." 

          She challenged his look with her own. "Why, Lantsov, I thought you would like this?" she said. "Or are you afraid that you might fall in love with me after this?" 

          I already am. Nikolai covered with a laugh. "I could ask the same to you." 

          "Confident, aren't we?" 

          "Only for you." 

          Zoya shook her head with a laugh, facing forwards to Lada again. The younger princess was grinning at them, her eyes bright as the morning sun. 

          "Let's get on it, shall we?" she said, clasping both of her hands in front of her chest in delight. Then she cleared her throat and mustered up a serious face that made Nikolai want to chuckle. "Do you, Grumpy Crown Princess Zoya" —Nikolai stifled a laugh— "take this idiotic but endearing Captain of the Guard as your companion in life, to argue with and train with or whatever, to hold from this day forward without wanting to strangle him, to be there for him in times of plenty and need, to love and cherish, for the rest of your lives?" 

          A beat, and then Zoya shrugged, a small smile on her lips. "It's not like I have a choice. I guess I do."

          Nikolai chuckled. "Good one," he said. 

          Lada looked pleased, and then turned to Nikolai with a sly expression. He furrowed his eyebrows. What could she be thinking again? 

          His question in his head was unanswered when the younger princess continued again. 

          "Do you, Prince Nicky of the high seas" —Zoya snorted at the nickname— "take my big, grumpy sister as your lifetime partner, to bicker with and to share your secrets with, to be the sunshine to her storms and the smiles to her scowls, to support her all her ideas except the bad ones, to love and cherish her, for the rest of your lives?"

          He pretended to think for a moment. "I don't," he said, dragging the word, "think I would refuse." In front of him, Zoya rolled her eyes. "I do." 

          If it was still possible, Lada's grin became even wider. "By the power bestowed upon me by whoever, I pronounce you man and wife." She jumped on the boulder a few times. "You may now kiss the bride."

          Nikolai blinked. He had totally forgotten about that part. When he looked over to Zoya, he noticed that she mirrored his expression. Maybe she had forgotten about it as well. 

          He breathed deeply, but it didn't help calm the erratic beating of his heart. "Well, you said you'll play along with it," he said, almost in a whisper, and he leaned forward. 

          Zoya sucked in a breath, making him stop a few inches away from her lips. There was a dead silence that washed over the garden, and nothing but his breathing could be heard. Nikolai wasn't really going to do it, despite wanting to, and he wondered how it would feel if he kissed her. It would be so easy to touch hand to her face, to pull her towards him and close the distance between them. 

          She's a royal, Lantsov, his mind berated. Know your place. 

          He almost smiled bitterly. It would just be a good dream. 

          With a sly grin to cover up for his lamenting, he took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles instead. 

          The surprised look on her face made him want to laugh. "Disappointed?" 

          She gaped at him for a moment, and then she pulled away from his touch, redness rising to her cheeks. "You wish." 

          Somewhere behind Nikolai, Tolya's deep laugh echoed through the gardens. He turned to look at the giant with a raised brow, and he only had a second to blink before the twins were stepping forward and tackling him in a hug as if the wedding was real and they were happy for him. 

          But the look in their eyes told him that they were. Weirdly as it sounded, he found it endearing. 

          "Congratulations, Captain," Tamar said with a smile. Then she was also pulling Zoya with them, putting her next to Nikolai. Tolya picked Lada up and placed her on one broad shoulder. "Well, I'd say congratulations to you both."

          "I can't believe you two are accomplices to this atrocity," Zoya mumbled. 

          Nikolai huffed a laugh. "Tell me about it." 

          He let the moment pass for another long moment. It would only be brief before they were back to being guards to the princesses again. 

          But perhaps he could dream that this was real. 

***

"Nikolai." 

          The memory faded in Nikolai's mind as he looked back to the stormy blue eyes that he had adored for more than a decade now. A smile made its way to his face, realizing the moment he was in now. 

          The chapel waited in excitement, and his smile only became wider. 

          "If you leave me hanging and only kiss my hand again," Zoya said, her eyes bright, "I will run away from our wedding night." 

          Nikolai laughed, his vision suddenly blurring. "Why settle for only that," he said, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, "when I can now do both?"

          She laughed, the sound coming out breathless. A tear fell from her eye, and he reached up to wipe it away. "Then just get on with it." 

          "As you wish, my love." 

          He placed his other hand to her cheek, pulling her to him, and she met him halfway. When their lips finally met, the chapel erupted in cheers and happy shouts, and he could swear one of the loudest was coming from Lada somewhere in the front pew. 

          Zoya clutched at his collar and pulled him closer, feeling her smile against his mouth. He could get lost in this moment forever, the world could fall around them, and he was sure he would never mind one bit now that he was finally hers, and she his. 

          The cheers continued on even as they pulled away, and he rested his forehead to hers, eyes still closed. Everything felt surreal, but the warmth and calmness in his heart told him otherwise. 

          Finally. 

          "I love you," he said, breathless from the euphoria, making Zoya laugh. 

          "I love you too, Captain." She pulled him to another kiss again, and he welcomed her openly. 

          With the feeling of content in his chest and the love of his life in his arms, Nikolai knew he was home. 

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Love, Maybe? {23}

Chris Evans X Reader OFC Vixen Giovanni

Warning: Mild Cursing, Plot, Slow Burn, Fluff

Word Count: 4K

Summary: After a night of drunkenness you wake up next to warm, hot as hell body, a migraine and no memory of the night before. When you come to realize that the hot body belongs to none other than Hollywood’s golden boy Chris Evans you freak out. As events unfold you become even more panicked to find out you got married in your drunken haze. What else is there to do but get it annulled, right? Before walking away, you share one more night of molten kisses and passion. Three years later you are still living with the repercussions of your brash decisions, but the surprises don’t stop there. The past has a way of coming back and have you questioning is this fate that you’ve been running from, hell could it have been love, maybe?

Note: Italic texts is an inner Vixen thought. Bold Italic texts is an inner Chris thought.

**Slightly Edited/Proofread**

***Interactive**

Thank you guys for reading!!!! If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG. 😊 ❤️  ❤️ ❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 23: The Four Musketeers

-Chris-

He’d never been more scared in all his life, and that included when he was ten years old walking him from school after he’d cut Jenny Park’s hair. He was afraid because he had to face his mother and whatever punishment she came up with and then had to face his sister Carly. It was not a fun afternoon. Matter of fact he didn’t have any fun for a month.

  He was filled with the same feeling of dread today, standing outside his sister Carly’s house where his siblings were inside waiting for him. Thanks to Scott and his big mouth they all knew, and he knew it was a matter of time before his mother also did. Now there was this new bit of information. Sighing, he walked the path to the front porch. Once in front of the door, he lifted his hand to knock, but the door flew open, and he was face to face with Carly and Shanna who each had a similar look of anger and confusion. He groaned and thought to himself it was going to be a long day.

   He walked inside and to where Scott was no doubt hiding, the kitchen. Sure enough there he was sitting at the island sipping a beer. When he walked in, Scott turned and gave him an apologetic look. “Ya didn’t even last a day!” Just like that they all began talking at once, over each other. He heard what they all said and responded as they spoke their next sentences. It went on this way for a full ten minutes before Carly let loose a loud whistle. Everyone stopped and looked to her.

“Everyone shut your yaps!” He groaned and lamented the oncoming conversation and questioning. He walked to the fridge and took out his own beer. After opening it against the side of the wooden island he took a few heavy gulps.

   “Chris, sit down,” Carly instructed. “I’d rather stand for now.”

   “I’ll sit down,” Shanna said, sinking into one of the stools at the island. Silence filled the room, and he realized all their eyes were on him. He rolled his eyes.

   “Okay, let me start,” Scott began. “Oh, I think we’ve had enough of you starting,” he interjected.

   “It slipped out Chris; I didn’t mean to say anything. I’m sorry.”

   “Why were you trying to keep secrets from us anyway? What the hell, Chris!”

   “I didn’t know how to tell you guys. Plus I knew once you knew then ma wouldn’t be far behind.”

   “Oh, ma is gonna kill you. Explain!” He raked his fingers through his hair and leaned on the fridge.

   “Who is this woman? How the hell could she keep something like this from you? What kind of woman does that?” Carly was livid. He didn’t know if her anger was more directed at him or you. He didn’t want his family hating you, but he knew once the truth came out the possibility was likely.

   “We had a fling in Vegas a while back, one or two nights. She went her way, and I went mine. I didn’t know until maybe two months or so ago.”

   “Two months? Chris,” Carly sighed out. “Where was the protection?” He scoffed and drank more from his bottle.

   “The one time it didn’t cross my mind.”

   “Jesus Chris.” She paced then spun around. “Who is this woman!?” He’d heard the question the first time, but he bypassed it. He couldn’t now.

   “Just a woman.” Shanna jumped up then and scurried to her bag then came back with a magazine in her hand. She flipped through the pages and dropped it on the island top. “Is this her?” He took the magazine and leaned closer to the blurry image. It was you he knew it. It looked like it was taken outside the same place you both were bombarded in front of her restaurant. He clenched his jaw and sent a text to his incompetent lawyers to get to work on it. He didn’t want you hounded.

   “It’s her, isn’t it?” All three of them grabbed the magazine and dug their noses in it trying to make out what they could. He was grateful they couldn’t make out anything.

   “Don’t worry about who she is. You have a niece. Her name is Ella, and she will be two soon. She’s perfect.” He put his phone down showing them the picture you’d sent him earlier that day of her eating a cookie. Shanna and Carly both gasped then let out a collective “aw.”

   “She has your eyes, Chris,” Shanna informed. He nodded. “She’s gorgeous,” Carly added. He smiled unable to hold it back anymore.

   “What kind of woman hides a child from her father?”

   “She says she didn’t do it out of spite. When we knew each other, I wasn’t this stable. Remember me almost three years ago?”

   They each slowly nodded. “You were pictured with a different woman almost every night,” Shanna very vocally announced. “It was not every night.”

   “Yeah, it was. You couldn’t keep it in your pants little brother,” Carly added. Scott snorted and tried to stifle his laughter.

   “Whatever. I was single and enjoying life. Anyway, who I was then—a kid—there was no way that would have worked. I’ve done a lot of thinking and assessing mainly taking my feelings out of the equation. From an outsider looking in which is what she was, I was a hot mess.”

  “Are you saying you condone what she did?” He looked at Carly’s big eyes. She was shocked. He was too. Two months ago he would never have been able to admit you were right, or think about the fact that your worries and concerns were valid. He could do that now. He didn’t condone what you did, but he was able to understand your choices; especially after spending time with Ella and feel the smallest part of the weight of having a child. He wanted to protect her from anything and everything. He understood how you felt.

   “I don’t condone it, but I understand where she was coming from. I don’t like it, not at all, I missed a lot, and I’ll never be able to get that time back. Sometimes it makes me angry and resentful, but I don’t want to live in the past anymore. I want to find a way to make this work. She’s incredible, and I want to be her father.”

   His siblings stared at him, then their smiles appeared.

  “Wow, little brother all grown up, a baby,” Carly said as tears filled her eyes.

   “Shut up you sap.” They all laughed then hugged in a group. He was grateful this wasn’t too bad, grateful that they weren’t angry with him for keeping this secret and thankful they’d accepted it so easily. He’d imagined tens of different scenarios where this went a whole lot differently.

   “Ma is going to kill you.” Again, they all laughed, but it wasn’t a humored laugh. It was a nervous one, one they shared because now they all knew the secret.

   The four of them sat at the island and ate some of the lasagna that Carly made while they asked tens of questions about Ella, questions he happily answered, and the more he answered he realized he knew a fair amount about her. That fact alone made him realize how far things had come.

By the time he left his sister’s house it was nearing nine. He made a stop at his friend’s house to pick up Dodger and went for a long walk hoping to clear his head.

   As he walked down the familiar streets of his childhood, he allowed his mind to wander without controlling it. He smiled when he caught a whiff of apple pie. He could go for a slice. He followed his nose and made it to the nearby bakery and ordered a pie. As he drove back to his place his mind ran on you. He wondered what you were doing right now and imagined you were lying in bed scrolling through the tv lineup or working nonstop. He got the feeling you were a workaholic. As his mind drifted to what you may be wearing he took notice to how his palms began to sweat.

   In the last week since the night on the cliff he’d had plenty of dreams about you, some were innocent, and others were so far from innocent they would make the worst sinner blush. He’d thought long and hard about what he may be feeling, and where his head currently was. He knew he didn’t hate you; he also knew that he still found you attractive, he also knew his body still reacted to you like oil to flame, and he struggled more lately to keep tight reins on his wanton thoughts.

   The news that you were in fact still married was a huge monkey wrench for him. He’d just gotten used to the fact he had a daughter that he didn’t know, only just got used to the fact that you’d lied to him for so long. He’d just gotten over most of the hurt of knowing all of that and was beginning to figure out his place in Ella’s life. Now he still had a place in your life as well.

   When he walked inside his home, he let Dodger roam free then laid out some food for him. He decided to hop in the shower. He hoped the steam would help him unwind. After ten minutes of thoughtlessness he was ambushed by thoughts of you again.

   “Does she even want me in her life?”

   The question was one he’d asked himself before, but it was concerning Ella, always with Ella. Now he was thinking of you alone. Your actions were polite; they didn’t point to either possibility. It looked as if you could take him or leave him. Your indifference made him a little insecure, and it drove him crazy. He wasn’t used to the feeling. He was always secure with himself. You gave off the feeling like you wanted to keep space between you. Every time the two of you seemed to be having a good time, or conversation was flowing, and the air around you changed something always happened, and in seconds it felt like the ice age. He didn’t know what he’d done. He began to wonder if this was from the present or the past. He wanted to bring it up, but he also didn’t want to ruin what was. You’d just gotten to a point where he didn’t lash out because of your actions, and you didn’t become angry defensive. He liked where you were now, but he couldn’t ignore the part of him that wanted more.

   “I want more.” He sat on his bed still wrapped in his towel, staring out shocked by it. “How much more?” That was now the question. “Does she want more? Bro, she doesn’t act like it.”

   Groaning, he dropped back onto his bed and sighed out trying to push the thoughts away. Suddenly his eyes snapped open. “We’re still married. Maybe if I keep it that way it’ll give me a chance to get to know her—outside of Ella.” He sat up and thought about his half-brained plan. “Maybe I should date my wife.” The words together had him laughing; it was ridiculous.

   When he finally sat back down, he had the apple pie with him. He turned on the TV in the bedroom and allowed dodger to jump up on the bed. It was there they stayed. When his phone rang he reached over for it and saw it was a Facetime call from you. He smiled as he answered.

   “Hi.” Your face popped up, but you didn’t speak. Your eyes also weren’t looking in his. He looked down and realized he was shirtless. He thought to turn the camera away to pull on a shirt but decided against it.

   “Let’s do a little experiment.”

   “Vixen?” You shook your head and cleared your throat. “Sorry, hi.” He smiled and straightened his back against his headboard.

   “Did I wake you? It’s after eight.”

   “Uh, no, it’s actually close to midnight where I am, and no you didn’t wake me.”

   “Where are you?”

  “Remember I told you I had to go back home for a day or two?” You closed your eyes and hit your head.

   “I forgot, I’m sorry. Wow there’s been so much going on here.” He smiled and nodded; he completely understood. You worked too much.

   “It’s okay; I get it. You’re doing a lot, being supermom, your restaurant, it’s a lot.” You didn’t speak again for a few moments. You just stared at him.

   “Um, I was uh I was thinking about Ella’s birthday.”

   “It’s coming up, right?” You nodded. He smiled getting excited. “What are you planning?”

   “I wasn’t sure. It’s like so many things are different now.”

   “What do you normally do?” You took a deep breath, and it was then he realized you were in bed. The nightgown you wore was a low cut one, and he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra. He shifted in the bed forcing his brain to focus on what you were saying.

   “Well, it was her first birthday we did a party. I wanted to do one this year too but you’re—present and no one knows. I haven’t told my parents.”

   “You’re not alone there. I told Scott my brother told him not to say anything, he did, and now I just told my sisters. My parents still don’t know.” You were looking down. “You okay?”

   “Do they hate me?” You looked scared, and he had an overwhelming desire to protect you. Again, he shifted in the bed.

   “I won’t let them hate you.” You looked to him with a shocked expression on your face.

   “Don’t you hate me?” He began to wonder if that’s what you’d thought this whole time. He sat up and leaned closer to the camera and licked his lips. Your eyes fell to them.

   “Vixen, I don’t hate you. If I’m being fully honest I tried to hate you. I tried really hard, but I couldn’t.” Several more moments passed with neither of you speaking; you just stared at him. He wondered what you were thinking.

  “Why not?” You were really asking the tough questions, questions he still had yet to ask himself because he was afraid of the answer.

   “Guess you’re just that likable.” He took the punk way out; he could live with it for now. You looked down, and it was then he heard Ella’s screams. You smiled then bent down, and Ella’s face came into frame. His smile spread.

   “Cwis!” she waved excitedly into the camera, and he did the same.

  “How are you?” She nodded then laid her head on your chest, which brought his eyes to your exposed cleavage. He was glad the camera stopped just below his chest.

   “Why don’t you tell Chris what you did today, Ella.” She smiled sheepishly then began talking, and he just sat there listening to her broken words as they mixed with some proper ones to form a very detailed description of her day. He could listen to her talk all day, and he was getting better at understanding her words.

   By the time she finished talking, she ran off, and he was left with your smiling face. He released something close to a content sigh. “You okay?” he nodded.

  “I’m telling my parents tomorrow.” You make a yikes face then lay back onto your pillows. Your bed looked like it smelled of candy and flowers.

   “It’s okay if you let them hate me. I understand.” You sounded defeated. He knew they wouldn’t hate you. They’d be angry and concerned for him. They’d also worry you may be like the women they’d warned him about in his early Hollywood days.

   “They won’t hate you. They’ll be cautious,” he clarified. You snorted and shook your head.

   “That's just a nice way of saying polite hate.” He smiled and sunk in his bed. Dodger dropped a paw across his face.

   “Oh my god, is that a dog?” He shifted the camera to show Dodger, and your eyes bugged out.

  “Oh my god, you have a dog. Duh. Wow.”

   “What do you mean duh?”

  “Through the years I’d seen magazine pictures of you and your dog, and heard you mention him in interviews. I just forgot.”

   “Are you saying you’ve been keeping tabs on me these last few years?” Your eyes bugged out again, and you looked like you wanted to die. He pinched his lips thoroughly enjoying the fact you were embarrassed.

   “Uh—I didn’t—I didn’t say that.”

   “Yeah, you did. you followed my interviews and tabloid sightings?” You were squirming, and he loved it not only because you’d let something slip but because you looked so tortured.

   “Wow, that is not what I meant. In passing you’d be on magazine covers and friends would read the articles and talk about it,” you stuttered out. You then groaned. “Shit, not what I meant. Damn, fine yes I’d see things about you from time to time. How could I not you’re everywhere.” He laughed, and you soon joined in. “I wasn’t stalking you.”

   “Oh, I know. You would never, right.” You shook your head and rolled your eyes. Again, he put dodger into the frame. “This is Dodger. Can you say hello Dodger? This is Vixen.” Dodger licked the camera, and you smiled.

   “Hi, Dodger. You’re such a cute little thing. Yes, you are.” Dodger barked then yelped into the camera which prompted the cutest little smile he’d ever seen. It was then Ella came running back in. “Doggie!” she proceeded to marvel over Dodger who was equally interested in this tiny human. Ella grabbed your phone and from then on it was her and Dodger, neither you or he could get any screen time.

   After almost an hour, Ella was finally asleep on your chest, and Dodger whimpered clearly missing his new fixation. He was okay being replaced as long as it was by Ella. Your face came back into frame, and it was then he felt like he’d gotten hit upside his head with a brick. This was what he wanted. He wanted to hear Ella talk all day and all night until she passed out mid-sentence. He wanted to watch her, and Dodger interact and love each other, he wanted to watch her cuddled to you at night, he wanted to be domesticated. His chest felt heavy and tight all at once. He grimaced as the tightness intensified. He’d never felt like this before, and if he didn’t know his body he would think he was having a heart attack, but he knew that wasn’t it.

   He wanted Ella, and he wanted you. He wanted lazy mornings, and he wanted fun-filled afternoons no matter if they included the meltdowns of an almost two-year-old. He wanted calm nights filled with The Little Mermaid and every Disney movie ever created; he wanted playgrounds, potties, tea parties, dress up, unicorn themed dance parties and everything else that came with that little girl. He wanted to be by your side when you accomplished every goal you could dream up. He wanted to see every smile, wipe every tear, and give you that beautiful life Zack wanted to. He wanted his family.

   “Hello, Chris!” your voice pulled him out of his haze. He didn’t know how long you’d been calling him.

   “Yeah, sorry.” You smiled as you held Ella to your chest.

   “It’s okay. I’m going to put her down. Do you wanna go or stay?” It was a loaded question for him; it didn’t mean ending the call or not; it meant so much more. He swallowed and heard the gulp. It was so loud that Dodger shifted and looked at him with concerned eyes.

   “Stay. I wanna stay.” You didn’t respond or get up right away; instead you studied him. It was as if you’d heard the double meaning in his words. You shook your head and gave a small smile, a smile that spoke of timidness. You didn’t expect him to say it.

   “Okay, I’ll uh—um—I’ll be right back then.”

   You placed the camera down, and he got a view of the sheets and your exposed thigh before you stood and slowly walked toward your door, the hem of the nightgown danced just under your backside and the reminder of his desire nudged against his sweatpants. He closed his eyes and tried to take some calming breaths. He’d only ever gotten this reaction from you—no one else. He’d taken notice the first person he’d been with after you, of course he pushed it to the side and out his mind and worked to keep it buried but there it was.

   His mind went back to their night together at his house. It went over every detail again until he opened his eyes. Leaning over to the nightstand, he took up his wallet and took out the folded paper he held there. He took a deep breath and opened it and reread your words.

   When you get the paperwork, send it here and consider it done. Have a nice life. 5578 Carsington Way P.O Box 2687, San Francisco, California.

   “Have a nice life” was all his eyes saw. The way he read that sentence three years ago was nonchalant; he didn’t take too much time to think about how you’d meant them. Now he kept thinking about how’d acted the last few weeks; your house in Ella’s room, avoiding him, in the rain, the cliff and every encounter since then. Everything pointed to you not being interested just as you must not have been interested then. He studied the note and continued to debate with himself. When he saw you walk back into the room you leaned forward giving him a perfect view of your cleavage but his body did not react. Insecurities he’d held at bay for years rushed him.

   “Sorry that took so long she left a bit of a mess in there, had to clean it up. She laid on her side with her hand holding her head up. The new angle of the camera gave him the perfect view from your head to your thighs. You looked like a dream. His dream.

   “But am I hers?”

   “Is everything all right?”  

   He shook his head, “Yeah, sorry, I’m—lost in my head tonight.” He rubbed his face trying to snap out of it.

   “It’s okay. You’re entitled. Um, I’ve been thinking a lot the last few days,” you began. His breath hitched, and his pulse sped.

  “About what?” You chewed your bottom lip and toyed with your fingers.

   “Um—well—the last few months have been great. You’ve gotten to know Ella better, and she’s gotten to know you. She likes you, not a little either, like a lot. You’re really good with her, and I can tell you care about her.”

   “I love her.” You froze, and he saw the glisten of tears in your eyes before you lowered your head. After a few moments you cleared your throat.

   “I know we haven’t gotten everything ironed out with how we’ll co-parent, but you said you wanted to be involved--.”

   “I do, more than anything,” he added. You nodded.

   “So--you’re going to be around.”

   “Yeah, definitely, as much as you let me. I’d love to be around more for her too.”

   You didn’t speak again, you looked down, and his insecurities said you didn’t like that. For all he knew you probably didn’t want him anywhere. Looking at you he felt more insecure than he’d ever been. It was a feeling he didn’t like.

   “It’s late,” he began. A look of shock washed over you before you covered it with an aloof expression. Irritation filled him.

   “Yeah, night,” you responded and quickly ended the call. He sat there lost in his thoughts and unsure what he’d said.

~~~~~~~~~~~

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[ichigopanhpff]

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 20

We’ve reach chapter 20! Does anyone really read this thing though? lol

SPOILER ALERT: This is leading up to the Redemption Arc, so there’s a bit of spoiler to the main story here. This one is a much shorter chapter compared to the last one.

Read. Ch. 19 | Masterlist

With November coming to a close, winter was in full swing. There was always something about the cold in Japan that made Ren want to bury her body under a kotatsu and hibernate. She lethargically emerged from the her warm cocoon of her bed to get ready for class. The chill of the air made her shudder aloud and rubbed her arms furiously to stay warm. Putting on her designated “home hoodie,” she grabbed her belongings to wash up downstairs. Even after fully clothed, 1-A’s resident advisor found herself moving much slower than she liked. And her monthly visitor’s cramps did little to help. She saw Asui coming down with half-lidded eyes and yawned aloud.

“I’m sorry, ribbit,” the amphibian girl apologized and rubbed one of her eyes. “Winter is always hard for me.”

“You’re preaching to the choir, Tsuyu-chan,” Ren agreed and proceeded to boil water for some tea. “Would you like some? Maybe it’ll help wake you up.”

Asui slowly nodded and let out another yawn.

Leaning her head on the refrigerator door, the pink-haired girl found herself drifting asleep, only to be rudely woken up by Bakugou.

“If you’re gonna sleep, don’t do it somewhere where people need to grab stuff,” he exasperatingly refuted and pinched her cheek hard to get her to move.

The stinging from the pinch woke her up halfway as the electric kettle turned off automatically. Heaving a heavy sigh, she wobbled over to the other counter and made English Breakfast tea for herself and Asui. Adding a splash of milk and half a spoon of sugar, she stifled a yawn before sipping the hot beverage. She then handed the second cup to the napping frog girl, to which she thanked her for. Heaving a long sigh, she grabbed two pieces of toast and munched on it like a turtle.

Class went by in a blur and Ren managed to halfway wake up just as the day ended. The classroom door to 2-A suddenly slid open and revealed a very excited Ito with something in his hand.

“Everyone! The photos from the festival have been printed!” her classmate announced.

“About time!” one student chimed.

The class crowded over Ito as he opened the album and flipped through until they found the group shot of their class.

“Whoa! We look out of this world!” Tomoe exclaimed.

“I do have to say, the costume team did a wonderful job,” Seri commended. “My dress was so comfortable to move around.”

“And thanks for adding that last minute train to mine,” Ren sighed out. “It was much appreciated.”

“You’re still sensitive ‘bout that?” Tomoe asked with a tone of surprise. “Dude, let it go. Flaunt it.”

“I absolutely refuse to,” the pink-haired girl deadpanned and blushed. “I don’t want it to be bodysuit-gate all over again.”

“Speaking of your costume, Takahiro,” Ito interjected with a sly smile. “Your photo was one of the top three most requested for reprints next to Hadou-senpai’s.”

She blinked stupidly.

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“This one.” He flipped to the page where her photo had the full page spread of a mid-action shot from when she jumped off of the swing. She let out a panicked scream.

“It seems the audience was quite entranced by your wisp character,” Hayasaka remarked, staring at the photo. “Maybe it was a blessing in disguise I injured my ankle and helped backstage instead.”

“Your quirk would’ve made the wisp freakin’ legendary!” she reasoned. “I did what I could while running on 3 hours of sleep and barely remembered half the shit I did!”

“So?”  Akiyama huffed. “ I was on energy drinks and was awake for nearly 36 hours making all the costume adjustments.”

“Well no matter,” Miyake disregarded. “What’s important is the festival was a huge success and we were able to pull off the performance thanks to your help, Takahiro.”

Heading back to 1-A, she found Aizawa with the Big Three and Eri-chan sitting on the couch. She overheard Aizawa saying U.A. was now in charge of her well-being. Before Ren was able to go over to say hi, Togata and Aizawa waved her, Uraraka, Midoriya, Asui and Kirishima out the door to talk.

“It seems like Eri-chan’s parents abandoned her,” their homeroom teacher revealed. “And her closest blood relative is the boss of the Hassaikai, who is currently in a coma. So she has no where to go.”

“You may have heard this from sensei, but her horn is the source of her quirk,” Togata chimed in and tapped the left part of his forehead.

“We heard it shrunk and everything was good though...” Kirishima replied.

“The horn seems to have grown a bit recently,” the third year blond revealed.

“So… we need to make sure “that” doesn’t happen again?” Ochaco asked, thinking back to what happened to Midoriya after Overhaul was taken down with Eri’s quirk.

“That’s why her transfer was U.A. rather than a foster home,” Aizawa summarized. “I’ll be watching over her in the teacher’s lounge to monitor her situation. Hopefully, we can find a way to work out her power.”

“Aizawa-sensei, it seems like you’re taking on a lot of work,” Asui said with a tone of worry.

“This is where, I, friend of Eri-chan and student-on-hiatus, come in!” Togata shouted happily with both hands on hips hero pose.

“We’ll be busy but you can visit her every once in a while,” Aizawa finalized to which those present agreed to.

“If Eri-chan’s mind and body are stable then maybe...” Amajiki clasped a hand on Togata’s shoulder. “The return of the fearless hero could be soon.”

“That’d be nice,” Togata replied with a dry laugh.

“Third years, this is sudden, but can I leave Eri with you for a bit? I have something do.”

“Of course!” Togata enthusiastically agreed.

The first years were asked to return to their dorms to receive some guests. Ren followed them back in and saw the Wild Wild Pussycats talking with the class. She remembered from the report Aizawa gave her they were there at the training camp when the villains attacked. The resident advisor politely greeted and introduced herself to the idol heroes, noticing a small boy bashfully standing with Midoriya.

Talks of their return to the spotlight and the JP Hero Billboard Chart came about; the list of heroes aggregated twice a year based on their level of contribution to society, approval ratings, popularity, etc.

The following night, everyone tuned into the official announcement of the top 10 heroes. As expected, Endeavor was in the number one spot, with Hawks moving up to second. The R.A. glanced over at the bi-hair coloured boy, unflinching and expressionless watching the ceremony. His back almost felt distant from everyone. She wanted to ask how he was feeling about all this, but didn’t want to pry into something that’s not her business.

The next day, everyone was doing their own thing in the dorms. The TV could be heard in the background as several 1-A students hung out in the common area; Ren was huddled on the corner of a couch knitting. Some of the guys were talking and joking around with a few of the girls.

Kirishima, however, was entranced and emotionally invested with how fast their R.A. was going through the yarn, trying to figure out how she was creating something tangible from a thread like magic. Stopping momentarily, she counted her stitches and clicked her tongue. Muttering under her breath, she immediately removed the needle and unraveled a row. The spiky redhead exclaimed loudly as she did it, catching her attention.

“Did something happen?” she looked up and blinked in surprise.

“Gah, you worked so hard at it and you’re taking it apart?!” Kirishima groaned out. “Just leave it!”

“It’ll be uneven if I did. Besides,” she looked down to smooth out the yarn thread before starting again. “One row is nothing. I can remake it in my sleep.”

“What are you making anyway?”

“Something for Eri-chan,” she answered mid-stitch and picked up the rhythm after figuring out where she went wrong. “Christmas is coming up and I figured I’d give this to her as a present.”

“Oh that’s right!” Ashido chimed in. “We should all do something as a class!”

“We can’t exactly go off campus to have a party,” Kaminari lamented and leaned back on the couch across. “Kacchan and Todoroki still have their provisional lessons too.”

“How about we throw a party here after those two take their licensing exam?” Ren suggested and looked up. “As for presents...”

“We can do a Secret Santa!” the pink-skinned girl excitedly proposed.

“Oh, that’s a great idea!” Hagakure agreed and clapped her hands together.

“Looks like we got a plan!” Uraraka eagerly said. “I’m getting excited!”

“Mina-chan, I’ll let you take care of the Secret Santa details then, budget and everything,” Ren directed.

“Roger!” The alien queen saluted with a wink and toothy grin before heading up to her room.

The TV suddenly turned to a breaking news screen, showing part of a city in ruins somewhere in Kyushu with the headline “Endeavor, Number One Hero, Fighting Engineered Nomu.” The camera then pans into a bloodied Endeavor laying on top of rubble. The once vibrant common room fell silent with shocked eyes on the screen. Midoriya grabbed the remote and turned up the volume to hear the newscast. Ren dropped her knitting needles and clasped her hands to her mouth.

Feeling a new presence, those sitting on the couch turned to see a shocked Todoroki staring at the TV. It was like time suddenly slowed down and all the noise faded away from the loud beating of his pulse in his ear. Ren could only look on at the boy with extreme worry.

“Todoroki!” Kirishima called, with Midoriya following right after.

“The scene here, is sadly reminiscent of the nightmare from three months ago...” the caster presented.

The camera zoomed in at the Nomu beginning to walk away, with Endeavor immediately getting back up and rushed the monster with his flames. The scene then cuts to civilians panicking and screaming as they’re trying to escape from the disaster.

“This is society without a symbol of peace!” the live voice over strongly stated.

The main entrance of the dorm bursted open, revealing Aizawa running to them.

“Todoroki...” he panted. “You already saw what’s going on?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” the red and white colored haired boy uttered out nervously.

“Stop saying that crap already!” A voice from the TV abruptly shouted, revealing an angry young boy on camera. “Open your eyes before you say that crap! Especially at a time like this! You still see those flames up, right?! Endeavor’s still alive and fighting! So don’t give up just cus the other guy’s gone!”

Panicked pedestrians were still pushing the boy, but he wasn’t giving up.

“He’s still out there risking it for all of us! Can’t you see?!”

The camera changed back to the aerial view they have of the fight. As the broadcast continued on, everyone watched on with bated breath, hoping for a good outcome for Todoroki’s sake. Endeavor’s flames discharged with intensity out of his body and at the Nomu. Hawks then came from behind to assist him with his feathers. By now, the newscaster had changed her tone.

“Dad...” Todoroki’s voice quivered out with strength. “I’m watching!”

All they could see on the screen was a blinding exploding supernova in the sky on the screen and in that instant, two falling figures dropped from the sky at an alarming rate. After the smoke cleared, the victor was clear.

There he was, Endeavor bloodied and beaten up holding a victorious pose with his right fist up in the air and a super crispy Nomu on the ground.

“It’s Endeavor! He’s standing tall in victory, no! Standing tall for his beginning!” the newscaster shouted in elation. The once panicking crowd then erupted into screams and cheers. The other students jumped off of their seats and ran to over to him. Any energy Todoroki had was completely zapped when he squatted down and breathed a sigh of relief and placed his hands together over his forehead. But that peace didn’t last long as the surrounding area was engulfed with blue flames.

“It’s him!” Aizawa stated. “What’s he thinking being out in the open like that?!”

“The League of Villains is here! It’s league member Dabi!” the newscaster announced. “He’s surrounded Endeavor and Hawks with a wall of flames!”

The three got into a confrontation and a fight started breaking out, but was soon broken up by Mirko’s powerful kick.

“You’re one of those League of Villains bastards ain’tcha?!” she proclaimed. “I’ll kick your ass till kingdom come!”

As fast as Dabi came, he disappeared with a black essence coming out of his mouth. And moment of silence filled the void, with only the TV caster announcing the fight was won. Heaving another soul-leaving sigh, Todoroki gathered the strength in his legs and slowly stood back up. Aizawa took him to the side to talk one-on-one. All Ren could do was look on like an outsider.

After a quick discussion, 1-A’s homeroom teacher gave special permission for him to go home for a few days. With the rest of the students retreating back to their respective rooms, Ren decided to stop by Tororoki’s to check on him. She stood in front of his room door and swallowed hard, her right hand freezing mid-air.

What kind of face would he show her?

Would he even want to talk?

Was she here as his friend, the R.A. or something else?

Gathering what courage she had, the door opened just as she was about to knock. She met his hetero-chromatic eyes expressing surprise. All she could do was stand there in stupor, unable to move.

“Ren-senpai...” he softly greeted. “Did you need something?”

“Huh? I, er, uh…” she stammered out at a higher pitch than she liked, feeling her cheeks get warm and looked down at her now fumbling hands. “I-I just wanted to see how you were d-doing and–”

She cleared her throat and calmed herself from her botched words.

“I came by to see how you were doing, that’s all,” she managed to get out and looked away.

Todoroki merely blinked at her slowly. It took him all of his willpower to not pull her into his room and embrace her. He wanted to feel her warmth to comfort him, but he had to hold back. Anyone could come out of their rooms at any moment and would misunderstand their relationship.

But… what was their relationship exactly?

He wanted to say more, but all he could default to was, “I’m fine. Aizawa-sensei’s letting me go home tomorrow to see my siblings and my dad.”

“Oh, right. I’ll… leave you to it then,” she said with a look of distance in her eyes.

Watching her small form walk away from his door, Todoroki felt that sensation bubbling up again. The tinge of pain in his chest she’ll disappear if he dared look away for one second. His hand instinctively grabbed a hold of her wrist, jolting her muscles and turned her head. He looked at her with loneliness reflecting off of his glassy gaze.

“Todo-kun?” she questioned.

Realizing what he’d done, he immediately released his hold.

“I-I’m sorry...” he whispered and grabbed his hair by the roots, looking away with shame. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Ren slowly walked back and stood in front of him with a softened gaze.

“Just remember it’s okay to not be okay,” she gently spoke with an encouraging smile, making sure to keep a moderate distance from physical contact in case anyone saw. “You have people on your side to help.”

[lunaraen]

G'morning! (It's 00:30 where I live, ahaaaa...). If you're still taking requests, I'd quite like to see something about F. Jesse and Ivor having that first awkward encounter/conversation after the Witherstorm. I've always wondered what would be going through each of their minds in that circumstance. Thank you in advance :D

It should hurt.

A distant part of Jesse is verycertain it does.

For the most part, though? She’snumb. Everything lasts too long and yet each moment blends into the next in atwisted blur, something in her chest stinging, sharp and painful, while shefeels nothing, her entire body cold and limp. She walks, she smiles, she givespep talks, and her lips strain with every motion, her legs aching with everystep.

(Jesse’s so tired.

Maybe sleeping would help, butthere are too many people and there’s too much to do and she can sleep later, not now,any time but now even if now won’t end,“later” never quite coming.)

She wants to go to bed, collapsebehind some rock or tree, and wake up back home, in her tree house with Reuben.She wants, above all else, to wake up in bed with him at her feet, rather thanrocks digging into her back and Reuben haunting every other thought.

It’s just not possible.

Admittedly, Jesse’s more and moretempted by the idea of just falling asleep and never waking up.

But that’s not a whole lot morepossible. Not when her friends need her, when countless strangers are lookingto her for guidance and confidence she doesn’t have.

That’s part of why she’s where sheis now, stumbling more than walking, trudging not into the darkness but awayfrom the main part of their camp. Jesse’s not looking to fight anything, swordat her side just in case anyway, and stays within the dispersed ring ofhundreds of torches they have spanning so many meters in every direction. Shejust wants to be somewhere a little less blindingly bright, somewhere where’sshe’s not so closely surrounded by exhausted and sleeping people who deserveevery bit of their rest.

An equally big part may have todo with how she can smell coffee, a desperate and curious part of her clingingto that. If she can’t sleep forever, well, the dramatic opposite is that shewon’t sleep at all, and coffee helps with chasing away the sleep andnightmares.

Jesse pauses, freezing with onefoot midair, as one of the people sleeping on the ground twitches, theirsleeping bag pulled up enough to cover their head.

It’s not until they settle againthat she finishes stepping over them, shoulders relaxing as she exits one ofthe most outer throngs of sleeping people and keeps quietly walking, doing thesame silent march through whats little more than a field of torches andsupplies abandoned for the night.

Step, step, pray there’s not atwig to snap under a boot in her next step, keep stepping.

(This would, in hindsight, beeasier without her armor, but taking it off would be disrespectful to Ellegaardand feels too final and vulnerable an act. They’re safer now, but they’re notdone yet.

Every step, one and then two, alittle more hesitant but no less routine, feels as much like its own challenge,its own risk, now as when its broad daylight.

She hears monsters that aren’tthere and screams people are no longer making. She feels almost ready to drawher sword on the smallest of shadows, and certainly feels ridiculous about itall. It’s nearly over, and the hardest part, the hardest actual battle, isover. She doesn’t have the right to jump at monsters that aren’t there, likesome traumatized adventurer or amazing hero.

That’s the sort of trauma thathappens to people who have survived incredible things, and while Jesse’s plentytraumatized, she’s no hero. Now’s not the time to start acting like it.)

Jesse’s not actually planning ondisturbing whoever else is up and brewing coffee in the middle of the night,but she’s curious all the same. The smell is stronger away from the heart ofthe hundreds of sleeping people, and if someone wants their privacy, she canrespect that. But if someone else is having trouble, they also deserve ashoulder to lean on.

It’s the most Jesse can do rightnow, unable to return to building without making too much noise or doingsomething wrong when it’s better laid out in stored away plans.

Still, all plans of comfort turnto dust and ash, uncomfortably stuck in her throat when she sidesteps aparticularly large pile of equipment to find Ivor on the other side, legscrossed as he sits by a makeshift fire. The kettle’s no longer boiling, a lazy,never-ending plume of steam and the smell of coffee still slowly wafting off ofit from where it’s set beside him.

The silence is not pleasant.

Really, it’s stifling and plainawkward, more awkward than she was already preparing for. They aren’t just twopeople who deserve their rest and are up far too late; they’re two peoplewho’ve been part of this disaster since the beginning, albeit starting ondifferent sides.

Funny that they should be two ofthe people to see the entire thing through.

Jesse doesn’t think they’vereally spoken since the battle, even as Ivor’s diligently worked alongside therest of them to provide healing potions and whatever other aid he can brew up.

Ivor shifts without a word,moving to the side and patting the grass beside him. It’s a small invitation,as unexpected as it is silent, but Jesse takes it, settling where he sat not amoment ago. It’s better than having to stare at each other from across thefire, but the discomfort doesn’t exactly vanish with the two of them sittingside by side.

Her eyes are stinging and herattempt at a greeting isn’t almost anything, a choked sound lodged in herthroat that doesn’t manage to make it to words.

Ivor, in turn, forgoes a greetingof his own.

Instead, he cuts painfully closeto everything Jesse was planning to never talk about.

“There’s nothing to beashamed of, in grieving.” Maybe it’s written over her face now, maybe it’sbeen written all over her since they started traveling and rebuilding. “Italways hurts to lose someone.”

And there’s a wistful quality tohis voice, one that nearly everyone seems to have, that tired, hollow look inhis eyes that Jesse’s seen over and over in so many people lately, eyes withdark, nearly purple circles under them, and she’s speaking before she reallyknows it.

“I’m sorry for your–”No, it’s wrong, that’s wrong, it’s too mechanical (she’s said it too many timesto too many people in the past few days but something like that should neverever sound routine) and it’s the last thing she has the right to say. Jesse’smouth closes fast enough she nearly bites her tongue, back rigid and her nailsdigging into some part of her skin, past the gloves into her hands (her palms?They’re still too sore from building to tell, too numb from everything else).

I’m sorry for your loss.

People have lost homes, beenseparated from friends, lost livestock and pets, had precious mementos rippedfrom them and exploded into nothing. Loss is everywhere. Even the peopleinsisting they’ve lost nothing have had something or another ripped from them;she doesn’t think one person’s really kept their peace of mind.

There’s been a lot of mourning, alot of moving forward, and a lot of condolences. That won’t work here, now, atthis time with Ivor.

Apologizing for his loss would bedistancing herself from it, acting like Ellegaard’s death wasn’t directlyJesse’s fault. Begging for forgiveness is more appropriate. A million otherapologies spring to mind, scramble their way onto her tongue as her body staystoo stiff, and Ivor manages to beat every single one.

“And I’m sorry foryours.” Jesse feels something warm, something akin to rage or pain, spark atthat, and she smothers it before it can become anything. Ivor’s voice hitchesas he tries to continue, and she thinks he’s expecting that warmth, expectingher to lash out at him with it. “I–”

He swallows, and Jesse waits.

“I regret so many things. Icould spend an eternity lamenting so much of what I’ve done, what I’ve said,the things I never acted on but should have. All the things I never should haveconsidered but did.” His voice is gentle, still, but his hand is by farsteadier as he picks up a mug Jesse didn’t notice and the kettle, motionssmooth in a way his words aren’t as he begins to pour. “And yet, I havenever regretted anything more than stealing that blasted block, or using it tomake that abomination. I can’t give back what I took, Jesse. If I could, Iwould.”

Ivor presses the mug into Jesse’shands, the coffee swirling without spilling and just as steamy as the kettle,and it takes her several moments too long to realize the drink’s for her.

“I know.”

His voice turns the sharpestshe’s heard in–days? weeks?–a while, his scowl as stern and nearly as bitteras his words.

“Then stop apologizing likeyou had anything to do with it– with herdying. With the world being turned on its head. With losing Reuben.” Ivorpauses, pinching at the bridge of his nose with fingers thin enough to almostbe skeletal, and the venom eases away as quickly as it came. “I killed oneof the brightest, most creative, inspiring people to have ever spawned. She wasone of my best friends, once, and I ended up bringing about her doom. I killedEllegaard. Just as recklessly and unintentionally, I killed Reuben. You lostone of your best friends.”

It’s relieving in a way it shouldn’t be to have it addressed as it is. 

Reuben might have been a pig, but he was never just a pig to her. He was the best pet anybody could ask for, and to hear Ivor talk about him that way makes her choke up for different reasons.

“Maybe you should stopapologizing like you had anything to do with it.” There’s a ghost of asmile from Ivor at the echo, and Jesse counts it a success even as her own weaksmile crashes and burns. “You didn’t sneak Reuben aboard with me, or tryand have him land anywhere but the lake. I should have noticed. You didn’t failto grab him, didn’t take Ellegaard’s armor.”

“But I uprooted your life,didn’t I? All our lives? Shook the very foundation of what you knew, yes, butalso what you had? Your home? Your friends?” He looks away. “Petra’sridiculously fortunate to not have any lasting nerve damage.”

Jesse hears the unspokeninsinuation: they’re not sure she doesn’t.Petra doesn’t seem to, and that’s enough for Jesse now, but it’s a worryingthought.

She looks up at the moon, asbright and speckled as ever, and she wonders why it gets to stay the same. Howit dares be the same moon now, glowing as much in their darkest moments as itdid when they were happy, when Jesse’s biggest adventures involved forestescapades and building competitions.

There are better sources to bebitter at than the moon, and while she doesn’t find Ivor guilty the way heapparently does, Jesse knows she herself makes a plenty fair target. Evenstill, she didn’t act without reason, just like Ivor didn’t.

“…none of this would haveeven happened if Soren hadn’t lied about the Ender Dragon.”

Jesse doesn’t really know whatkind of response to expect, but Ivor’s chuckle, worn and weary and so close tobeing a bark of a laugh, isn’t it.

“It would be easy, to blamehim. He isn’t exactly here to defend himself.” In Jesse’s eyes, there area lot of other reasons for why it’s easy to blame Soren, but Ivor’s the lastperson she needs to explain that to. “I’ve spent a good deal of my lifeblaming him for things. Things he played a hand in, certainly, but not thingshe could entirely control. How different would it be, I wonder, if just one ofthem had sided with me. How different would things be if I’d never objected atall? How different if any of us had noticed him taking the command blockalong?”

If anyone has answers, it isn’t Jesse.

Ivor doesn’t seem to know muchbetter himself.

“I thought he was beingclever, however vile and manipulative the cheating itself was. Of course he’dnever intended to let us do our part. Of course he’d want to orchestrate theentire thing just to his liking, with everyone safe and used like pawns.”Teeth are the first to show as his lips twist into a snarl and the first to behidden as Ivor’s expression softens. “Of course he’d want everyone safe.That was something Soren would never negotiate on. However wretched a light Ipaint him in, he deserves credit for that. He’d never let Ellegaard die, not ifhe had any say in it, never let anyone get so close to death.”

Not himself, certainly.

“He didn’t care enough aboutus being in danger when it meant saving his own skin.”

“Fair enough. He’s acoward.” Intended to be funny or not, it’s straightforward enough tostartle a small laugh out of Jesse. “He recognized the risks and decidedthey were too much. But he’s not the master manipulator I’ve seen him as for solong. He’s flawed; human. Who wasn’t scared, then? I’m hardly any better; Iabandoned you in the nether, and brought this entire mess down upon us to beginwith.”

By Ivor bringing it back to them,trying to center it on him, Jesse’s reminded of how this disaster in particularis still her fault. Ivor had a fail-safe, after all, a means to end what wassupposed to be a short demonstration, and he was hardly to blame for saidfail-safe being nabbed.

“…it wouldn’t have been aproblem for anybody if I didn’t steal your potion.”

“Jesse, you saved the world. That’s not something totake lightly, not when leaving it to somebody else would’ve been easier andsafer for you. My safest course of action was not making a monster. Instead, Itore what remained of my best friends apart, killed one of them, and let herdie in Soren’s arms.” Ivor glances over his shoulder, briefly, and Jessedoesn’t wonder what he’s trying to see past the pile.

Magnus and Gabriel have beendiligent in their help, and she appreciates that too, but there are a number ofless than pleased people among them. The two of them tend, more often than not,to set up camp further from the heart of wherever they set up for the night.

Gabriel’s armor gleams decentlyin the moonlight, and she can see it glinting from here.

Ivor clears his throat in whatmay be a huff, and he’s watching her now.

“It’ll be a miracle if theyever speak to me again. Magnus might eventually run out of steam, but Gabriel’salways had a very strong sense of justice.”

…that’s an interesting way todescribe an old friend who betrayed him, pushed Ivor away and ignored him as ifhe were a stranger, someone who lived the life of a respected hero and lied tothe world for years even before Jesse’s spawning.

“Not enough to keep him fromlying.”

“If I know him half as wellas I once did, it’s been eating at him every moment since.” Ivor’s legsshift, one straightening before bending to allow him to rest his elbow on itsknee, and he’s smiling weakly as he turns his head to look at her. There’s awarmth, a tired, mournful sort, in his gaze, hidden as it is by the long bangsgripped in one hand, barely kept from shifting in front of his face. “I’mnot going to try and make you forgive them or see them in a kinder light. Youinherited our mess, our lies and schemes, and fixed it far better than we evertried to.”

“It doesn’t feel thatway.” Disheveled as Ivor seems right now, he still has more control,visibly, than Jesse even halfway feels. “You all seem so experienced, andeven my friends seem to know what to do, how to do it. They’re great at helpingpeople, and I’m so scared of making things worse, Ivor. What do they need mefor?”

“Jesse.” The stern toneis back, gentler but not without an edge. She gets the feeling he’s had enoughof the circular pity cycle they’ve been going through. “…ultimately,even in the most pessimistic and cruel of lights, it’s obvious they need you astheir leader. They need you as a friend, as someone to lean on and to catchthem before they fall. They all trust each other, and you, to make sure no oneelse gets hurt. And truly, you’ve done so much already for all of us that youseem the most experienced for guiding, for making the tough decisions no onewants to.”

“Great.” Jesse’s tone,in turn, is as quiet as it ought to be this late, but it’s not without its ownbackbone. “But I’m not. I don’t know anything about helping or leadingthis many people. I don’t know how to tell them things will be okay when theysaw their homes, their towns and cities, everything they’ve ever known, getripped to bedrock.”

“It’s not a situation mostpeople are prepared for.” Ivor’s boot shifts, nudging her own. There’sanother rush of shame, of feeling lesser. How must he feel, seeing her paradeday after day in his dead best friend’s armor? “You’ve done remarkablywell all the same.”

“I–”

“Well, save for your poorsleep schedule. You’re worried about your friends counting on you? Maybe makesure you’re awake, healthy, and ready for when they do, rather than fallingasleep on your feet.”

“Hey, I’ve been doingwell.” Ivor raises an eyebrow as he lifts the mug from her hands, raisingan eyebrow, and Jesse’s nodding before she’s even trying to figure out when shedrank all the coffee in it. Her throat doesn’t feel like it’s in any pain, butit’s about as numb as the rest of her.

Ivor, apparently, wonders thesame for slightly different reasons.

“You have. I’m amazed youhaven’t burned yourself with your coffee yet.” He pours himself a fullcup, and, hypocrite that he is, downs it in one swift movement without wincing.Jesse’d be impressed if she weren’t busy pouting. “At this rate, though,you’re going to fall over dead or start slipping up at dangerous moments. Do usall a favor and catch a little shuteye.”

“…you too.” Shenudges his foot back before pulling herself to her feet, limbs feeling asstretched and stiff as her armor. “We’re not going to get very far veryquickly without some amazing potions.”

His grin is as sly as her own,his voice with a different, more sarcastic edge.

“Ah, of course. I can assureyou you’ll have them.” There’s one last pause as she dusts herself off,and his voice is gentle once again. “And I’ll try and rest, Jesse. Youshould really do the same.”

…she will.

If only for her friends, shewill.

[oldtowrs]

A Love Reignited - Glorfindel

Imagine: being reunited with Glorfindel in Rivendell, many years after having seen him being pulled into the abyss by the balrog.

A/N: I just realized I have 500 followers! Thank you so much, omg!

Translations: Mellon nin: my friend, glassen ne chen cenin: It is my joy to see you, melethril nin: my beloved, meleth e-guilen: love of my life, guren vell: my sweetheart. 

Warnings: Mentions of major character death

Words: ~2000

His honeyed curls and silver cloak billowed about his shoulders, flowing regally in the ember-dusted wind, while his golden armor and slashing longsword reflected the smoldering flames of the Balrog before him. Each strike brought the horned beast closer to the edge of the cliff, each advancing step causing a stronger sense of worry and tension in her mind, the hissing of flame on steel echoing abhorrently in her ears.

With a final strike the monstrosity tumbled over the cliff’s edge, an earth-shattering roar reverberating against the rocky cliff face, trembling through the air.

“Glorfindel!” She cried, and “meleth,” he sighed.

With tears brimming in her once dry eyes, she leapt up, running to the triumphant warrior, whose armored arms were open, welcoming, a comfort in the chaos and clangour of war.

But moments before the two could embrace their victory and each other, a thin rope of vibrant flame crept up the gold embroidered cloak and wrapped around several tendrils of flaxen hair, instantly singeing the silken strands as it pulled the ellon to the abyss.

She stopped, hands holding her weight as she collapsed to the ashen ground. A single, pure tear forged a single, clean trail along the elleth’s cheek, melancholy instantly overwhelming her, numbing her heart as she watched the ever descending figure fall further and further out of reach, until nothing but the inky darkness of the abyss stared her cruelly in the face.

-

I loved him. I loved him so dearly, I thought for what had to be the billionth time as I stared hopelessly at the golden band upon my left hand, twisting vines of flowers and a golden sun carved into its polished surface, a small amber hued diamond set in the middle of the sunburst. So why was he taken from me so soon?

I dropped my hand from the fraying spine of a book, the gold ring reflecting the fading sunlight as it streamed in through the sizable windows, illuminating the dust that floated through the air of the archives of Imladris. It calmed me, in a sense, as the smell of age old books filled my lungs, but nothing could ease my sorrows and my longing.

Ever since the Fall of Gondolin, I had mourned the loss of him, Glorfindel, my childhood friend and husband. I had loved him, deeply, and when I watched him plummet to his death, after I witnessed his being pulled to the abyss by that horrid Balrog… well, it had done terrible, irreversible things to my now mutilated heart. After the horrible defeat, I had come to Imladris, knowing full well of the serene reputation the elven city had. It had been Imladris that I had hoped to seek refuge from the horrors I had experienced in battle, hoping to replace the grim remembrances with more joyful memories and images. But sadly, the grief had lingered in my soul, weighing heavily on my decrepit heart as I spent my everyday lingering in the libraries, a lost soul hoping to find a comfortable residence in a book whose setting reminded it of a home it once had, a home now lost to the evils of the world. A soul that longed for a book that reminded the soul of all it had lost, as if the simple, old pages could bring back all that the saddened soul had missed, all it still longed for.

But as I sat sulking, mourning the loss of my dearly beloved and long since departed, I was ignorant to a certain presence that had entered the tranquil mountain valley until my friend, Lindir, informed me of it with a clangor that could be heard in King Thranduil’s grim forests, leagues away.

“Y/N, mellon nin,” my old friend gasped, rather out of breath as he stormed through the doors of my refuge with a bang, “there is an ellon at the gates. He has asked for your presence.”

“I do not answer to strangers, Lindir,” I murmured, my words ever slow and overwhelmed with melancholy, “you know that.”

“I told him as such,” Lindir countered, the silver ring he always wore glinting gold in the dying light as he wrung his hands, “but he says he is anything but a stranger.”

-

It was with great mental disarray that I followed, traveling in the wake of deep cerulean and crimson robes as they floated through the air behind Lindir, his speed causing them to flutter as though they were the wings of an anxious butterfly.

“Lindir,” I complained timorously, “can you not describe the looks of this ellon to me? Was he armed? Did you ask him where he came from?”

The brown haired ellon stopped in his tracks and turned to me abruptly, causing me to nearly avoid collision with his thin form, a contact that would have left us both upon the ground.

“I cannot describe his figure, for he was dressed in a cloak of gold that hid all except the ends of shoulder length, honeyed curls. I am sorry, Y/N, but aside from this, I cannot offer you any description,” Lindir confirmed, making my heart jump a little, despite the fact that his eyes were void of anything but kindness and an unimaginable sorrow.

“It is I who should be sorry, mellon,” I apologized, looking into the dark irises that held so much emotion at my expense, “I was asking too much. Please continue.”

It was stupid of me to think that it could actually be my beloved Glorfindel. He is dead, I saw him perish. He is among the souls trapped in Mandos. Stupid, stupid, stupid, I thought, tears pooling in my eyes as I continued to follow Lindir’s footsteps until finally we reached the gates, the towering stone statues whose cold, gray hair and cloaks cascaded down their broad, yet elegant shoulders, casting long shadows into the raging river below.

And indeed there was a figure, standing just beyond the reach of the westernmost stone soldier’s ebony shade, cloaked in black, light, shoulder length curls peeking out from the hood that concealed the figure’s face. A tunic of the same shade and a leather jerkin laid beneath the folds, and a double edged long sword hung sheathed from a belt about the figure’s waist. Chestnut hued trousers clung to the figure’s rather strong looking legs as they fell into plain leather boots that cut off just below the knee.

The figure’s hands came up to pull back the hood, a silver band ensnaring a pale hand, one that was similar to the one I had given Glorfindel, one that had always clung to Glorfindel’s elegant hand ever so long ago, catching my eye as he did so. Once the figure’s face was revealed, tears sprung to my eyes as I clapped my hands to my mouth in attempt to stifle the sobs that were bound to surface within the next moments to come.

The pale, blemishless skin of the figure’s face, the structure of the sharp jawline and high cheekbones, the piercing blue of the irises, the loving smile that graced his plump lips… it was all so familiar and I instantly new the “stranger” who stood before me, the one I thought I had lost oh so long ago.

“Glassen na chen cenin, melethril nin,” the stranger called, his voice only loud enough to grace my ears with its beautiful song, the graceful harmony echoing in a mind that had long forgotten its pure pleasantness.  

“Glorfindel?” I gasped, my voice a mere shred of what it once was as disbelief chilled my very bones. Tears streamed down my face, but from long pent up grief and pain or unmatchable happiness, I wasn’t sure, “is that you, meleth nin?”

“It is,” his silken voice replied as matching tears began to stream from his placid irises, “it is me, my beloved, my flower.”

The moment those softly uttered endearments reached my ears, my hands dropped to reveal a quivering smile, as I rushed forward, vision blurry, to meet the one whom I loved, his arms engulfing with me a fiercely, but gentle, protective hug upon contact. I could feel the flames of my old love rekindling in my heart, licking at my mind and burning any thought that was not about my dearly beloved Glorfindel, as I clung to him as if for dear life.

“I am so sorry,” Glorfindel lamented, his gentle fingers tucking my head beneath his chin, as he used to do, as he knew I loved.

“Meleth e-guilen, I have missed you terribly,” I sobbed into Glorfindel’s chest, relishing in the feel of Glorfindel’s thin fingers against my skin as he brushed them through my hair gently, as I clung to his cloak, surely wrinkling the fabric, my tears falling upon skin and cloth alike.

“I have missed you too, guren vell,” Glorfindel hummed, his voice full of penitence, apology and a bit of hope, “but I am here now. I have come for you, to be with you again, to love you as I always used to, as I should have all these years I have been absent.”

I felt his silent tears glide down Glorfindel’s pristine features as he pressed his soft lips to my hairline as I barely managed to stand, the pleasure of being in his arms once again causing me to forget how to walk, how to stand on my own two feet, how to breath properly as elegant hands caressed my cheeks with a delicate care that I had missed for so long.

“It is not your fault,” I reassured him, tears streaming from my eyes as I gave him a soft smile, thumbs brushing away the little droplets that dotted his milky skin with extreme delicacy, “and like you said… you’re here now and that’s all that matters.”

The pride and adoration that shown in Glorfindel’s eyes then was all I needed to know that he would cherish me as I would and had him, like we never truly got the chance to do.

“Thank you, Y/N,” Glorfindel murmured, pure pleasure and reverence in his voice as pressed his lips to my forehead and hummed contentedly.

“Please don’t thank me,” I beseeched, my eyes trying to communicate the pure bliss I felt that was simply too great for words to describe, “your being here with me is more than enough thanks.”

“I love you, Y/N,” my lover hummed, his hands leaving my sides, only for a moment, to grab the hem of his cloak and wrapped it around the two of us as he returned his hands to the small of my back and my head to his chest, my forehead resting just below the hollow of his throat.

“I love you too, Glorfindel,” I whispered, my heart beating without haste and my mind racing with the euphoria that I had buried deep within the memories I tried to abandoned, oh so long ago, a euphoria that had resurfaced, leaving me happier than I had ever been in all my years of life combined. My Glorfindel had returned to me, and it was in that moment, that I stood wrapped comfortably in his arms, that I vowed to never let him go again, and to love him more fervently than I ever had before, like I knew he would, through all the hardships and unpleasantries that the world faced us with, through all the eternities to come.