Although the fellowship had made it to Lothlorien, Legolas could not say they did so safely or happily. Gandalf had fallen, and although Aragorn had been quick to make Legolas rise and assist the Hobbits, there was an overwhelming grief within Legolas that he had felt a few times. He sat within the grassy blades, hoping desperately that it would ground him to something, someone. The grasses of Lothlorien were beautiful, as were the winding trees that embraced the walkways and edges of the citadel. It was not as beautiful as Rivendell though, and Legolas acknowledged it was because (Y/N) was not here. He admitted to himself, through the open wound that was Gandalfâs departure, that he had felt a grief similar to this when he had told (Y/N) he did not love her. Gandalfâs death likened itself to a reminder to Legolas, a reminder of how intense grief could be. If the grief he felt over breaking (Y/N)âs heart was similar to his feelings now, then he could hardly bear to think how his heart would shatter if she passed. That feeling, that deep, aching pain within his heart which extended to constrict his throat with a cold grip is what kept him trudging through until he arrived here. He could not allow Middle Earth to fall, not when those he cared so deeply about could meet a demise like Gandalf.
In attempting to relax Legolas traced over another memory of his time with (Y/N), as a child would trace their fingers over a well-worn and loved blanket. It was a comfort that Legolas was finding removed him from the perils and trials he was currently facing. He remembered the day he started to realize he cared for (Y/N) as a companion.
He had noticed her leave the grounds of the citadel while she was expected to greet his and his fatherâs arrival. As he learned, this became quite normal behaviour for her when he arrived. Although (Y/N) had a mind for politics and generally thrived within proceedings, she quietly despised having to go through the motions of an official welcoming ceremony. She preferred to express her greetings in a subdued manner, as one would a close friend. She had confessed to Legolas once that she would prefer to greet guests to Rivendell by laying out a table of refreshments, fruits, and Lembas bread so that they could tend to their weary bodies after a journey instead of being subjected to tedious protocol which only delayed their relaxation. This one time when Legolas slipped away to search for her company, Legolas struggled to find her. Truth be told they were not close companions at this time, therefore finding the spry elleth was always going to be a challenge. He had wandered through the tall, emerald-green trees for only about two minutes before he found her. He had spotted her flowing gown first, pink as the roses that commanded one of Rivendellâs courtyards, with creamy undertones like that of a newbornâs cheeks. The gown was long and fairly formal, which was why Legolas was shocked to see the fabric draped over branches reasonably high into the air. Next, he spotted her (h/c) hair, which was braided lightly away from her face but fluttered like a butterfly on the forestâs breeze. Clearly, she was meant to be with her father, officially welcoming the traveling nobility. However here she was, halfway up a tree, feet bare and browned by the ground she had gracefully stepped over.
âCare to enlighten me as to why a daughter of Elrond is pressed to a tree instead of greeting the prince who stands before he?â He had asked haughtily, yet he recalls an intention to tease her. He enjoyed getting on her nerves during those days, likely because he found amusement in the way emotions showed so clearly on her face.
âQuiet! Iâm trying to concentrate,â She had shot back quickly in a way that expressed her current preoccupation. She barely reacted to his teasing and Legolas, in his curiosity, grasped onto the tree she sat in. He craned his neck to try and get a better view of her, preferably her pleasing face, but he struggled to see what she was concentrating so hard on. Taking matters into his own hands, Legolas hauled himself up the tree, weaving through the branches until he was near her. He slowed as he approached though, noticing the large bird nest which her hands were carefully tending to. He slowed, watching her motions with a quietness, a recognition slightly of what she was doing.
Within the nest were about four hatchlings of the smaller variety of eagles, well regular-sized if it were not for the majestic eagles that towered over the people of Middle Earth. Legolas observed they were a little lean, and that the feathers of one of them were sticking out at odd angles. The other three looked well groomed, and as Legolas focused his gaze on (Y/N)âs movements, he noticed that she was carefully removing the baby feathers from the last hatchling, and likely had done so for the other young birds. She preened towards the creature, her touch so gentle and soft in a way Legolas had never observed before, likely because he never deserved it before. She was tender towards the creatures, and Legolas obeyed her wishes for his silence.
âTheir mother was killed by one of our guards, an accident yet one that left them vulnerable. I could not stand by a watch them die from neglect,â (Y/N) informed him, her attention never diverting from the creatures in front of her. When she had finished grooming the last eaglet, the four huddled together and dozed off softly.
âThey would have died without your intervention. What inclined you to care for them?â Legolas asked, holding onto a tree branch as he leaned away from (Y/N), giving her space now that he did not need to gaze over her shoulder. (Y/N) turned her gaze back to Legolas, and he found a subtle warmth nestling into his chest upon seeing her face properly. For once his words, which were simply inquisitive, did not anger (Y/N) as they usually would. She instead was calm, likely in a focused and nurturing state after carefully tending to the birds. Her brow furrowed though as she glanced at the small creatures.
âIt is my peopleâs fault they have been left to die. I will not allow it,â she told Legolas, and he felt his heart swell slightly at her words. He knew she cared for creatures deeply, as was evident after their encounter with the spiders and the extensive care she extended to her horses. Yet this was different. This was the first moment he could finally see her true disposition, the one which accurately reflected her deep reverence and affinity to the creatures of Arda. Her (e/c) eyes had seemed more intoxicating at this moment, and Legolas recalled being unable to draw his gaze away from the ellethâs own. Each and every encounter between them before this had been underpinned with envy and pride, however, this was the first moment Legolas felt as if he was moving beyond the façade (Y/N) presented. Beyond the lady of Rivendell who strived to be a pollical asset, for what sat before him in that moment was a breathtaking being born from nature itself as a blessing to the others who inhabited it. Legolas noted he did not feel exactly that way at the time, but he certainly did now.
(Y/N) had been raising those eagles for generations last he recalled, in fact during his visit when he broke her heart, she had presented her newest hatchlings to demonstrate her rearing abilities. All were stronger than those first nestlings she had saved, and in fact, for many a decade, it became much quicker and more reliable for the two elves to exchange letters through the eagles. Before they had stopped their journeys to Legolas altogether, they had been a symbol of (Y/N)âs unshakeable patience and kind hand.
Remembering the day he finally realized his true opinion towards the elleth, Legolas felt himself deflate slightly even more rather than find comfort in the memories. He knew he couldnât linger on his current feelings, the feelings of letting down those around him, especially those that were so important. If he did linger, then he would be no help to the fellowship. Yet losing Gandalf seemed to subtly remind him that he needed to make up somehow and somewhere for his perceived failings.
~*~
âPrince Legolas, son of Thranduil, I have been tasked with bestowing this upon you,â Lady Galadrielâs voice echoed amongst the remaining fellowship as they attempted to settle themselves into slumber. Legolasâ eyebrow raised, his piercing blue eyes connecting with Aragornâs intently. Galadriel surely had no use for him, for out of all the fellowship he considered himself the least important in terms of council with the Lady of Lothlorien. Aragorn looked partially confused as well but was certainly not the kind of man to question the desires of the high elves. Legolas rose to his feet and obediently followed Lady Galadriel as she led him away from the fellowship to a quieter, isolated area. Legolas felt the tips of his ear tingle as the enigmatic forest that was Lothlorien came to life around him.
âHow may I assist you, my lady?â Legolas asked politely, although his tone held slight tentativeness. He would be lying if he did not admit that being burdened with a task from Galadriel on top of his clouded heart was unappealing, and likely a greater distraction to the quest than he would care to admit.
âFear not Legolas, I bring tidings from Rivendell,â Galadriel informed him, a soft smile illuminating her even softer features. Legolas felt the smallest of smiles grace his lips before his mind had realized. Tidings from Rivendell likely meant a message from (Y/N), and he could not deny the quiet joy he felt at knowing she was reaching out to him.
âWhat tidings have been shared?â Legolas eagerly enquired.
âThe lady (Y/N) has called to me in her visions, requesting you be gifted this token of her affection to aid in your quest,â Galadriel informed Legolas as she retrieved an item from her sleeve. Presented to Legolas was a lithe silver-coloured dagger with an emerald that rivaled the greenery of Rivendell embedded in the hilt, with tree roots weaving their way around the handle, allowing for a greater grip. Legolas smiled softly as he gazed at the weapon, recognizing the design as one he had developed long ago with (Y/N).
âIt is a symbol of Rivendellâs blessing, designed specifically for swift dispatch of enemies that you cannot reach with your arrows nor your sword. It was forged here in Lothlorien with Mithril under directions she expressed to me,â Galadriel informed as she gazed at the much younger elfâs expression. To her, he remained foolish, and yet she knew it was not her duty to inform him of the reality that surrounded him. For an elleth such as (Y/N) to reach out to the lady of light through visions, it was clear how strong her love for the prince was.
âShe could not have gifted me jewelry like her sister gifted Aragorn?â Legolas chuckled lightly as he returned to his gaze to the Lady Lothlorien. Galadriel chuckled in response to his own jest, before shaking her head softly, her flowing white locks moving delicately.
âYou know as well as I do that (Y/N) puts more thought into her gifts than most. I doubt she would allow you to wander Arda further without ensuring she could protect in some way,â Galadriel replied with a soft adoration. (Y/N) certainly had a multitude of admirable encounters with Galadriel, and the high elleth held a strong opinion of the young elleth.
âWe designed this dagger together; it is the optimal design for an immediate and neat kill. It drastically reduces the likelihood an opponent can respond to your attack,â Legolas informed Galadriel, demonstrating with a quick, poised flick of the blade in the air. Galadriel watched approvingly, clearly satisfied with the craftmanship her people had put into the weapon. Legolas carefully tucked the blade into his belt, figuring he would find a more appropriate hilt later.
âShe wishes me to tell you that she is endeavouring to help where she can, sending diplomatic letters to all who will hear her pleas. You are fortunate to have such a political force behind your cause Legolas Greenleaf,â Galadriel spoke starkly, and it was clear that her latter words were not truly appraising (Y/N)âs political adeptness. Legolas bowed his head. Galadriel was truly communicating to Legolas his fortune in capturing (Y/N)âs affections, although he was already achingly aware of this fact, and was silently chastising him. Legolas cursed quietly in the back of his mind that his actions towards (Y/N) that night were so well-known that they had led him down the path to this conversation.
âMy gratitude for her help and devotion is beyond expression,â Legolas expressed softly, as he knew there was no other way he could communicate his feelings at present. The dagger, the thoughtful gift, the symbol of their bond and (Y/N)âs devotion and care, it was weighing heavier than Mithril should. Galadrielâs gaze was staring straight into his heart despite the softness of her features. Her unspoken wisdom penetrating the aura of confusion around him.
âIf you return to her when this quest is finished, you must cherish her,â Galadriel commanded him, causing Legolas to swallow and nod in reply. Galadriel lifted her arm delicately, her white gown billowing in the gentle breeze, indicating to Legolas that it was time to return to the Fellowship. Legolas swallowed the lump in his throat and followed her silent instruction, finding his elvish feet surprisingly heavy as they carried him back to his friends. As he approached the others, mostly asleep or at least dozing off, he caught Aragornâs eye once again, which in turn focused on the dagger secured in his belt. Legolas approached him softly, seating himself beside his best friend.
âFrom (Y/N)?â Aragorn asked directly, not bothering to hide the knowing grin that adorned his weathered face now. Legolas nodded, retrieving it from his belt and handing it to his friend. Aragorn took the dagger from the elfâs hands, inspecting it delicately in his hands before returning it to Legolas.
âElrondâs daughters have a fondness for gifting trinkets,â Legolas mused, attempting to lighten his own heavy emotions. Aragorn chuckled and shook his head, his tussled brown hair flicking around.
âThese are no tokens my friend, and I would hope you never treat that fine a weapon as such,â Aragorn informed seriously, his own hand raising to his chest to grasp the Evenstar. Legolas watched his friend delicately stroke the piece of jewelry and felt himself tracing the roots on the daggerâs handle. Legolas could not deny just how much joy the dagger gave him, but also confusion. Even after breaking her heart, shattering it truly, (Y/N) had found a way to complete the dagger they designed together. (Y/N) was actively working to keep Legolas and the Fellowship safe the best way she knew. Legolasâ heart was swelling, with a fondness he had always had but had not felt since he had destroyed (Y/N). It was the kind he felt when he saw her tend to creatures, attempt to fight him or study particularly hard.
âI would not dare, she put much thought into this, and it would be an injustice if it did not see battle,â Legolas confirmed as he finally placed the dagger amongst his other belongings, wrapping it carefully in scrap cloth despite his reassure of its battle readiness. For now, he would cherish it where he could not (Y/N).
As he heard the sound of clashing swords behind him, Legolas once again felt his mind drifting to (Y/N), not for the first time since the fellowship had left Rivendell. As Boromir, a rather bawdy human as Legolas regarded, clashed playfully with the Hobbits, Legolas found himself tracing another memory of the (H/C) haired she-elf. Seeing the clashing of sword and dagger, well swords for the halflings, Legolas saw his young friend.
It was one of the trips soon after the one he initially met (Y/N), during a time in which they always fought. That day was no different. In trying to prove herself, or as he thought at the time, embarrass him, Legolas had approached his regiment of guards only to find them fighting the young noble born girl. He remembered how taken aback he had been, seeing what he thought a prissy princess to be tussling with warrior elves. She was holding her own only due to her vigour, as undoubtedly her movements were sloppy and unrefined. Although to any other race of Middle Earth she would seem as graceful as a trained dancer, Legolasâ keen eyes picked apart each mistake she had made. Upon seeing their prince, the Mirkwood elves had dispersed, and the guard attacking (Y/N) had disengaged much to her frustration.
âWhat do you want pretty boy?â (Y/N) had asked him in an annoyed tone, causing Legolas to blush lightly, both now upon reliving the memory and in the memory. At the time however, Legolas was also angered by her words. During those years of rivalry, she loved to call him names, always enjoyed seeing him seethe with indignation. Perhaps it had been because of how flawless his father was that she wanted to crack his uptight shell, or perhaps when she called him pretty boy, she had really meant it. Legolas now believed the latter but chuckled slightly remembering what had happened next.
âI have a patrol in the forests I need to take this lot on. If youâll return to your fatherâs side then perhaps, we can continue with our work unimpeded,â He had asserted, wanting to pinch a nerve. He had done so successfully, as he watched her face flush in embarrassment at his words, however the outcome was completely different from what he had desired.
âI believe youâll need an extra pair of hands, led the way, Prince Legolas,â She replied angrily, grabbing at a nearby short sword and shoving it into the leather belt she wore around her tunic. She had not been bluffing when she asserted, sheâd join the patrol, and Legolas now thought that had been her ploy all along, after all, she hadnât worn one of her flowing gowns that day. He recalls how she stuck annoyingly close to his side that patrol, taking a lead jokingly over him in a way that he had felt undermined his leadership. In reality she had just been trying to amuse him and help him where she could. He remembers now how her braided (H/C) shone in the rare pockets of sunshine that Mirkwood forest would sometimes get, and how his arrow was trained towards the unknown that may threaten her. He cannot recall how the two separated from the regiment, but he can picture what they encountered next. It was a nest of the large spiders that threatened the peace of the Mirkwood forest, and Legolas had been swift to decimate as many fledgling arachnids as possible. Before he could finish them off however she had launched herself to stand between the remaining spiderlings and him.
âStand aside, Princess,â He had hissed at her, already frustrated with her presence, anger growing even further with her current actions.
âThis is foolish Legolas. If you kill all these spiderlings the fully grown ones will grow agitated. Youâre putting future patrols in danger. Besides, killing every single one will disrupt the natural order. We must leave at leave some alive, so the earth is stable,â She had asserted, drawing her sword from her side to defend the creatures further. Legolas was beyond furious at the time, but now he could see her strength in that moment. (Y/N) had always been more connected with the land and her creatures than he ever had, and she was easily more knowledgeable as well. He admired that about her now, but during this incident he hated it fiercely. At the time he drew him own short sword, and the two clashed as best they could. Despite her best attempts, Legolas was, and always had been, the greater fighter of the two.
Legolas had pinned her the forest floor, her braid picking up twigs and green grass from the forest floor as she grit her teeth at his proximity. In a flush of anger and annoyance he had pressed the blade in her neck, yet she stared back at him defiantly. They had eventually been broken apart when a more senior guard had found and dragged the two back to the citadel as they threw insults at each other. The nest had been left, and although Legolas had to fight off those spiders later, he acknowledged that the order of the forest remained for another cycle.
He shook his head as he returned to the current moment, glancing at the play fight in front of him. It was much less aggressive than his had been with (Y/N) all those decades ago, and so he shook his head softly. He felt someone bump his shoulder, and Aragorn looked almost knowingly into his eyes.
âKeep a look out, will you?â Aragorn instructed, directly Legolasâ gaze to the horizon with his own grey eyes. Legolas rolled his eyes in response, before turning to dutifully keep look out for the group. As he kept watch, hearing the clashing of swords still, his eyebrows furrowed as he saw something on the horizon.
âWhat is that?â Sam asked with concern.
âNothing⌠itâs just a whisp of cloud,â Gimli dismissed, causing Legolas to grow agitated, just as he had once done with (Y/N).
âItâs moving fast⌠against the wind,â Boromir observed worriedly, immediately halting the fight which had cause Legolas to reminisce. Legolas raised his own brows in worry now, before yelling to group in a panicked warning.
âCrebain from Dunland!â
âHide!â Instructed Aragorn as Legolas hid as quickly as he could. As he found cover, his thought flashed quickly to (Y/N), wondering what she would have done in this situation.
~*~
Legolas looked on carefully as Bill the pony retreated from the Fellowship, the small, stout and reliable creature that was now unburdened from the supplies trotted away with little care. Aragorn had said he knew the way home, but Legolas couldnât help but worry slightly about the poor creature. Perhaps that was a lingering effect from (Y/N)âs companionship, his worries and valuing of the creatures of Middle Earth. That time he had found her with an eagle was not exceptional, and he found his lips upturning slightly while thinking of her nurturing approach to creatures. Sam seemed fairly upset and quietly unsettled at having to say his goodbyes to Bill, but Legolas knew it was for the better. The quest ahead was going to be rough to put it lightly, and it was no place for such a kind soul as a pony. Although they had not spoken at length so far on this journey, Legolas found himself wandering towards the round halfling. Upon closer inspection, this was hitting Sam harder than Legolas first assumed. Likely Billâs departure was an indication that this journey was going to be so much harder than Sam had ever imagined, for if a pony could not accompany them, it was surely going to be a challenge.
âIt is better he does not accompany us. I was told once that equineâs will follow their companions through the worst dangers possible, without a care for their own wellbeing. It is a kind mercy that you spare Bill from facing what is ahead,â Legolas told Sam, trying his best to comfort him. He had placed a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him, but in truth Legolas had little experience physically comforting people. Even when he had broken (Y/N)âs heart, he had awkwardly hovered over her sobbing form, unable to find it in himself to reach out and embrace her.
âI am grateful for your words. The person who told you that is as wise as they are kind Mr Legolas,â Sam replied, patting Legolasâ hand to acknowledge his attempts to comfort him. Legolas nodded, his smile from before at remembering (Y/N) growing more.
âShe is indeed,â Legolas confirmed with a nod, pulling his hand away to give Sam a little space to process his feelings.
âTell me about this elleth, perhaps it will distract me from the sadness I feel over Bill,â Sam instructed, although his tone was incredibly soft and melancholic. Legolas smiled but was quietly surprised that Sam did not know he was talking about (Y/N). From how close Frodo and Sam were, he had assumed that Frodo had relayed all the information he knew. As Legolas recalled, Hobbits had a penchant for gossip, but nonetheless he felt lighter at the prospect of talking about someone he valued so dearly.
âI recall this one memory in particular of her, from when we used to despise each other, though I promise now she is valued companion. I had been visiting her family in Rivendell to participate in negotiations of some description, I no longer remember the specifics. I had been tending to my horse a day or so after my arrival, brushing his coat in an attempt to escape the politics of my father. This elleth, her name is (Y/N), had approached me in the stables. Her (h/c) hair was braided neatly, and she was dressed in riding clothes. It was clear that she was there for similar reasons. She approached her own horse, a dappled grey mare, who whinnied softly at seeing her rider. (Y/N) has always been in tune with the creatures of Middle Earth, as was evident with the way all the horses in the stable had turned their attention to her, including my own stallion. In those days I was jealous of her abilities, and I was immature enough to let a competitive spirit sour our encounters.
She approached me kindly while holding the mareâs reins and informed me that the way I was tending to my horse could be better, and that he preferred a wooden comb for his mane. She has this innate ability to read all those around her, including the creatures she wandered through life with. Before I learnt to appreciate this, it angered me greatly. I challenged her to a ride around the outskirts of Rivendell, intending to demonstrate my own prowess with horses. (Y/N) is stubborn, always has been, and so she angered slightly at my own attitude. I know now that challenging her, questioning her about her knowledge of creatures was foolish, she had always been insecure of her abilities. I should not have pushed her to race, and yet she responded with a fire I have rarely seen in any companion I have known.
She was quick, a strong rider with an even stronger bond to her mare which she tended to like a mother would a child. This was her only weakness in the race against me, she cared too greatly for the creature. I purposely chose a path which would push our horses, and I knew no fear in placing my horse in danger. She lost the race and was furious at me. She could not care less about the race by the end of it, for she was more concerned for the wellbeing of my stallion. She would be terrible on a battlefield, but I could tell this care was why Rivendell had such loyal horses. I was astounded by her accusation, that I cared little for my stallion, and stormed away to calm myself in a nearby forest.
She had found us later, the horse and I, approaching in a calmer manner. She apologized for outburst towards me, before explaining herself. It was then I understood her perspective, and little by little I have been working towards viewing all of Middle Earthâs creatures with the reverence she has for them. She would be proud we are caring for Bill in such a way, since he is a loyal pony who would do anything for you,â Legolas finished, smiling down at Sam as he finished recounting the tale. He purposefully left out the part where he had truly started to admire her after this encounter, and that he had apologized greatly for placing his horse in danger over a simple rivalry.
Upon reflection now, he had challenged (Y/N) to the race so he could watch her ride. When he had watched her ride into Mirkwood she had always been rigid and proper, so seeing a more relaxed version of her race him was tantalizing. Her husbandry of horses was incredible, that he could now admit. She was an incredible rider and even better carer, and Legolas was in quiet awe each time he rode with her. Perhaps it was his own insecurity about his connection to the lands, feeling that as an elf, a prince at that, his knowledge should be strong. Now though, he knew simply that her knowledge filled his gaps, rather than challenged his.
âShe sounds very kind indeed. You seem incredibly fond of this elleth,â Sam replied after fully absorbing Legolasâ story. Legolas blinked himself back into the moment, tearing his mind away from the image of (Y/N) riding her mare with incredible skill.
âI am fond of her. She is one of my closest companions,â Legolas replied with a smile.
âA companion? Forgive me for my forwardness Mr Legolas but you speak of (Y/N) the way I speak of Rosie Cotton. She is the most amazing lass I have ever seen, and I intend to marry her one day,â Sam announced confidently to Legolas, which took him a back slightly. He spoke of (Y/N) the way Sam spoke of the woman he wanted to marry? Legolas was shocked, he could not form his thoughts, let alone words for the thoughts. Married? To (Y/N)? His stomach churned and his heart felt heavy as he thought about the gorgeous elleth whoâs heart he had shattered in a million pieces.
âI wish you luck in wooing your love,â Legolas replied in a way which was certainly kind, but also indicated that he did not wish to address the conversation further. Sam nodded in response, picking up on the subtle hint that Legolas was struggling to understand how he felt.
Legolas departed from Samâs side, sitting himself on a rock nearby to gaze at the water. He watched with narrowed eyes as Merry and Pippin threw rocks into the water, trying his best to attune himself to the present rather than become preoccupied with more, overwhelming thoughts of (Y/N).
Got inspired recently to write a Legolas x Reader angst fic, but I'm not sure if there's a market for it. Will possibly continue if people are interested :)
(Part two || Part Three)
âLady Arwen, may I ask a question of you?â Asked Frodo, looking up to the tall she-elf who stood before him. He had followed her fluttering navy skirts into one of the lush, green courtyards within the citadel of Rivendell. Originally, he had been searching for someone else in particular but had trouble finding her. Naught for lack of effort, but it had only been a few days since the incident on Weathertop, and he was yet to become accustomed to the breezy walkways of the forest city. He figured that is if he could not find the she-elf he had the intention of finding, then the lady Arwen would surely have answers. Arwen turned to face Frodo with effortless grace, and Frodo found himself once again understanding the admiration Strider had for her.
âAsk away young hobbit,â Arwen encouraged with a soft smile on her face.
âWho was the lady that rode with us to Rivendell? In my delirium I did not see her face and I was to thank her for her efforts,â Frodo asked in return, thinking of the (H/C) hair which flowed on the accompanying dappled horse behind him. He had searched for another maiden but had yet to see her. Arwenâs smile softened even more if possible, and a care took over her eyes.
âThat is Elronâs youngest daughter, my sister (Y/N),â Arwen replied sweetly, clearly remembering her sister fondly at the mention of her name. âShe is one of our finest riders and is quite knowledgeable in many arts. She rode with us as a precaution, Strider feared your injury graver than what it thankfully was.â
âWhere can I find her?â Frodo questioned further, eager to see the youngest child of Rivendell again. Her touch had been tender and kind, and Frodo was not the type of Hobbit to not properly thank those who had helped him. Arwenâs face however fell slightly in the slightest of ways, a quiet grief overtaking her eyes while her soft smile remained for Frodo.
âShe will be in her chambers now. She does not oft leave themâŚâ Arwen trailed off, her body turning towards one of the many quarters in Rivendell, evidently (Y/N)âs. Frodo raised an eyebrow at this, and he continued his line of inquiry.
âWhy does she lock herself away? Especially with all the visitors here now,â Frodo commented, thinking to how the day before numerous messengers, nobles, and representatives from all corners of Middle Earth. He himself had been overwhelmed, and he recalled hiding behind a balcony with the other Hobbits. Merry and Pippin had joked about all the royalty that had arrived, while Sam and himself simply watched. They had never seen so many important people in one place, and Frodoâs stomach had grown heavy knowing it was about the burden he now carried. That was partly why he had tried to find (Y/N) in the first place, he wanted to occupy his mind with thoughts beside that of the Ring.
âThe man she loves is here,â Arwen replied lightly. Frodo raised an eyebrow at this.
âSo then why is she hiding away instead of seeking his company?â He inquired further.
âHe does not love her in return,â Arwenâs tone was light, but Frodo could tell by her gaze, which still lingered on her sisterâs chambers, that there was a slight grief to her words. Frodo was startled by this, thinking of the (H/C) haired ladyâs ethereal beauty that rivaled that of the elf in front of him. He thought of how she effortlessly kept up with her sister and was unflinching in her dedication to helping him. Both of Elrondâs daughters had been dauntless in the face of danger, and even if Arwenâs courage was more forthcoming, he had heard (Y/N) instructing her sister of the route, aiding in their swift return.
âWhat happened, if I may ask?â Frodo asked softly, looking up hopefully to Arwen as she turned once again towards him. Her hair fell softly from her shoulders as she turned forward, before she gracefully seated herself on one of the many marble benches that occupied the courtyard. She gently pet the empty spot next to her on the bench, inviting Frodo forward to sit with her. He did as she said, however with a bit more difficulty as he clambered up, hurling himself on top with his upper body strength.
âIt is a tale well-known to all Elves, so I see no reason to keep it from you dear Frodo,â She replied, before sighing softly.
â(Y/N), as Elrondâs youngest daughter, has always felt a need to prove her value. Since she was a young elfling she engrossed herself in studies of nature, manners, politics, battle, all areas she was allowed to. She was always outgoing, in fact I have fond memories of beckoning her to climb down from the tall trees surrounding Rivendell. My entire family cared dearly for her, she is my only sister, and being the youngest girl she is treated as fragile. Despite her efforts to prove herself worthy of admiration from others, I know my sister is insecure of her worth beyond being a high-born elf. Father, however, was immensely proud of her, and upon seeing her interest and natural aptitude in politics asked her to accompany him on diplomatic journeys since she was a girl. That is when she first met the elf she loves.
On a journey to Mirkwood she met their Prince, Legolas, a skilled archer and sworn protector of Mirkwoodâs forest. She had previously struggled to prove herself in front of other high elves but found herself floundering even more upon meeting the prince. In the words she shared with me when she returned from this trip, he was tall, handsome and unfathomably skilled in archer and leadership. At that time, he was the head of a division of Mirkwoodâs forces, and I believe he himself was struggling to prove himself to his father. (Y/N), upon seeing herself in Legolas, made great efforts to impress him with her skills. Legolas did not take well to it at first, believing her to try and embarrass him in front of his father, the king of Mirkwood. He retaliated with similar efforts, ultimately causing great rivalry between the two.
It was this way for decades, and I saw firsthand their hatred towards each other when Legolas came to Rivendell with his father. I could tell however that beneath her hateful façade, (Y/N) cared deeply for Legolas. The few times they were not fighting they would sneak off together, and although (Y/N) told me they were simply competing to see who was more adept in various skills, my brothers and I could tell that she was falling quickly for the blonde-haired prince. Slowly, over a long time, Legolas softened toward my sister, and they often snuck away from the respective citadels to spend time together in the forest. I caught them both once, in a similar position to my sister when she was younger. They sat upon the top branches of one of the highest trees bordering Rivendell, laughing heartily to each other as they gazed across the landscape together.
At one point father suggested an alliance between Mirkwood and Rivendell through their marriage, but I was quick to inform him of my sisterâs true, underlying feelings. Though she had confessed to me that she was falling for Legolas, she feared he did not feel the same. She recounted to me all their time together, the soft touches and tender words which had made her fall under his spell. They had a shared love of the forest which has ultimately led to the end of their rivalry, and the beginning of their shared companionship. She told me about how once Legolas had absent mindedly given her a purple wildflower which sprouted from their favourite shared tree, and that she had it pressed in her favourite book. Although she knew she was infatuated with him, she also thought that Legolas did not love her the same, let alone think of her that way. Upon telling her of fatherâs suggestion, she endeavoured to tell Legolas her feelings herself to confirm her thoughts.
Father held a feast in honour of Legolas and his father, and (Y/N) asked Legolas to sneak away with her. Soon after Legolas returned to the feast without her. I rose to find her, but Legolas halted me in my efforts before going to find her again himself. Days later, when Legolas and his father had left to return to Mirkwood, I found her sobbing in her chambers. She told me all that had happened. She had told Legolas of her love and admiration for him, and he had frozen for a moment, before responding that he did not love her in return. She had fled to her chambers, only for him to find her later and stay by her side late into the night as she cried. Apparently, he claimed to care deeply for her despite not loving her and could not bring himself to leave her in such a state. He watched her sob throughout the night, before she finally could not bare his presence anymore and bade him leave her chambers the following morning. For many moons she did not leave her chambers, and I feared she may die of a broken heart. When Elves love someone so strongly, it may chance destroy us. Although in recent years she has left her chambers, she still refuses to see Legolas and hides herself away whenever he visits. That is why even now, when Middle-Earth is in most peril, she cannot find it in herself to face him,â Arwen finished, before her eyes lit up softly as she gazed at her sisterâs chambers. Frodo, after finally processing the heavy tale presented to him, followed her gaze to finally spot (Y/N). She had emerged from her chambers to stand on her balcony, her own eyes unusually heavy for an elf. She was smiling softly to Arwen, though it did not reach her eyes, or even her cheeks really. Her gown, a gorgeous flowing violet that most vibrant of flowers Frodo had ever seen, was slightly crumped, and Frodo assumed this was due to her hiding away in her chambers. (Y/N) waved enthusiastically to Arwen, clearly trying to summon as much energy as she had to greet her sister and the Hobbit beside her. Her (H/L) (H/C) hair flowed in the light breeze, creating a halo around her form.
As Frodo waved back kindly to her along with Arwen, he found himself wondering who Legolas truly was, and how he could reject this beautiful elf. From what Arwen inferred; Legolas had not exactly made an effort to repair (Y/N)âs trust after her confession. There was a distinctive rumble of two sets of boots along the marble floors which led to the courtyard, and Frodo turned to see who was disturbing the peace of the greenery he shared with Arwen. As he and Arwen turned to face who had approached them, the two smiled upon seeing Strider, or rather Aragorn. Arwen rose quickly to greet her lover, while Frodo looked beyond the embracing couple to view the other man behind them. A tall, lean and blonde elf stood behind them, watching them embrace with an almost unreadable expression. His posture was refined, and Frodo found his eyes trailing to the quiver strapped to the elf. He was an Archer. He watched as the elfâs eyes turned to where Frodo had been looking before, looking sad and longing. Frodo turned, desiring to see (Y/N)âs react to the elf, only to see a peak of her violet skirts retreating back into her chambers. Oh. This elf must be Legolas.
âFrodo, I want to introduce you to Legolas, my close friend and confidant,â Aragorn confirmed Frodoâs thoughts as he turned back to face the three taller figures. Aragorn now stood beside Legolas, clasping a hand amiably to his shoulder. Arwen stood beside the two and regarded Legolas quietly. This surprised Frodo, as he assumed that Arwen would harbour hatred for the prince. Instead, she looked at him as if he were a friend, and knowing of Aragorn and Arwenâs relationship, it almost made sense that she did not despise him. Yet, underlying all that outward friendliness, Frodo noted something deeper, almost a look of pity. He did not understand it, but perhaps there was more to Legolas and (Y/N)âs story than what had been shared already.
~*~
It was evening in Rivendell now, the full moon illuminating the halls which shone back quietly in return. Legolas found himself drawn towards her chambers after the meeting of the Ring. He would be leaving tomorrow with the Fellowship, and as always when he was in Rivendell nowadays, he felt he had unfinished business. He knew the pathway like the back of his hand, and his feet carried him with a heaviness he felt only in her presence. Usually Legolas was agile, lithe on his feet, but the closer he got to her, the more he felt like a bumbling idiot. Earlier that day he had seen her again, if only a glimpse of face when he had met the ring bearer in the courtyard. (Y/N) had scurried quickly back into her chambers upon seeing him, and Legolas felt mournful as he was unable to see her beautiful face clearly. He endeavoured to at least say goodbye to her, after everything that had happened between them, she was still one of the closest friends he had ever had. As his feet carried him further into the night, he fondly remembered the many times they had spent together. The one that sprung to mind in particular was when he snuck out of the official arrival ceremony once to try and surprise (Y/N) with his presence. Instead of finding her within the citadel of Rivendell, he had found her nestled under a one of the fuller trees in the forest. Shaded completely from the midday sunshine by the evergreen leaves, she sat with a book open and surprisingly, an eagle by her side. The eagle, mighty in wingspan and intimidating in aura, was instead snuggled in her side, hidden partially by her flowing (H/C) locks. Although she was convinced that she was intimidating force, he knew in that moment that her influence and power was one which stemmed from kindness.
Legolas smiled faintly to himself as his mind retraced the memory that it had held so dear, until the smile dropped completely to allow for a solemn frown to occupy his lips instead. He had arrived at her door.
â(Y/N), may I speak with you?â Legolas asked tentatively, his voice almost getting lost in his throat. How long had it been since he had tried to talk to her last? Years, decades, perhaps more? He cursed himself softly, both at his lack of confidence and inability to speak to her. He racked his mind, trying to find a reason for his cowardly actions toward her when suddenly her door opened. There she stood, as beautiful as she had ever been, and yet his eyes were immediately drawn to her tired face, her deep (e/c) eyes flat as her once full cheeks instead showed tracks of tears. This was why he never approached her. Even now, being in her presence he knew what he was doing to her. He was breaking her heart even more, and that broke him in return.
âI know you are leaving tomorrow. I know you are part of the fellowship. I know you came here to wish me goodbye as you may possibly die on the journey. I know you wish to settle this matter between us, but I will tell you again what I told you decades ago,â She spoke directly before breathing in deeply, and Legolas once again saw that sharp mind he admired so. It wasnât just that she could his mind now, no she had been doing it to everyone for over a century now.
â(Y/N), wait-â Legolas attempted to interject while she was drawing in breath, but she spoke over him.
âI am unable to stop loving you Legolas, and it seems my burden to bear that I will love you until I die. So, if you came here to try and make amends, then I am sorry, but unless you have suddenly decided you love me back, then my feelings have not changed. I will think of you often on your quest and do my best to keep you safe where I can,â She whispered the last part softly as tears started to stream down her face again, and she paused to give Legolas the right of reply. Once again though he hesitated, despite his heart straining and hurting at her words, her confession and the tears that would not give her respite. He cared for her so deeply, deeper than he had Tauriel or anyone else platonically or elsewise, including Aragorn. Yet he could not say it, not out loud or to himself. (Y/N) could see this, her broken (e/c) gaze dropping to the ground as she moved effortlessly to close the door.
âGoodluck Legolas, I wish you goodnight,â She whispered as he stood there, paralysed once again by her confession. Every time she said those words, told him that her love was undying, Legolas felt trapped in his own body. He couldnât tell, couldnât comprehend his own mind in those moments. His body always became overwhelmed, his heartbeat rapidly and he felt as if he may ill. He thought it was because he did not feel the same, that his body was physically reacting negatively to her words. But as he stood outside her door once again, unable to even speak to her because his appearance caused such severe heartbreak, he found himself second guessing everything. On the eve of leaving her again, possibly for the last time ever, he suddenly was unsure what his feelings were. Legolas opted to return to his chambers and chase whatever sleep he could before tomorrow, because he knew in his bones that there was nothing he could do tonight. Besides, he could decode his feelings over the many gruelling months ahead of him.
~*~
As Legolas walked with the fellowship out of Rivendell, he couldnât help but look back longingly towards the forested citadel. Arwen had wished them goodbye, but her sister, as usual for Legolas, was nowhere to be seen. His heart yearned to see her again, and Frodo picked up on the Elfâs gaze quickly. As they walked further away, Rivendell barely a vision, Frodo finally spoke up, directing his words quietly to Legolas.
âDo you love her?â Frodo asked, a concerned look for his companion on his face. Legolas brushed his blonde hair out his face, frowning. He had heard this question many times, but finally this time, he had a different answer.
Sitting on his couch in his longue room, his fingers stroked the cool metal of his dog tags. Hunched over, Bucky felt an ache in his spine that ran all the way down to his legs, and yet he had not a care for it whatsoever. His eyes stayed focused on the tv in front of him, and yet his stare seemed to be gazing past that, into a different realm of reality altogether. The autumn sun did nothing to warm his body, nor did his favourite red Henley, not that it was providing any service to him at the moment anyway. He drew in each breath methodically, yet in such a way it was obvious he was trying to control it. The noise from the television barely reached him now either, the story on the news already having passed long ago. This wasnât what he expected, not after everything they had been through together. He thought he had made peace with it long ago, but his endless storm of insecurity, questions, and confusion. The jingling of keys and creaking of the apartmentâs front door made him raise his head for the first time in what felt like hours.
âHey, bear Iâm home,â You called as you tossed your keys and coat on the hallway stand, kicking the door shut softly behind you. You hadnât even a chance to glance up from your fussy over your keys before Buckyâs lack of response made you feel uneasy. Finally looking over to your fiancĂŠ, you felt a lump rise in your throat at seeing his face. His now short hair was dishevelled, the usually silky brown locks that you loved having a hand methodically run through it. His lips were downturned, in such a way you knew that he simply couldnât help it, those plump lips just couldnât upturn, not in this condition. And his eyes, well they told you everything you needed to know. A little bit bloodshot, with rings under his eyes. Most importantly though, you could see the unshed tears that clung to each eyelash, that were building up to the point where Bucky might burst. And Bucky rarely ever burst.
Glancing at the tv and seeing the news playing, you knew immediately what had happened. Without a second though, a second word, not a second, you found yourself magnetically drawn to his side. Instantly cradling his hunched form in your arms, your hand finding his left one and delicately interlacing your fingers with his. Stroking his metal hand, you instantly sympathised with his cradling of his dog tags, it was rather calming, especially after all these years.
âAnother story about Steveâs disappearance, yeah?â You questioned softly, resting your head on Buckyâs shoulder. You heard him sigh before nestling into your (h/c) hair, inhaling deeply before laying his head on top of yours. Glancing down at your (s/c) hand, he pulled himself from your grip just so he could readjust, stroking the simple engagement ring he had bought you over 5 years ago. Drawing in another breath, he closed his clouded blue eyes for a moment.
âEven after all this time, even after that day with him, it hurts like hell,â He confessed, although in reality it wasnât news to you. You had this conversation many times, or at least, you had heard about this conversation with his court mandated therapist. It had been that way for you too, in all honesty, except you kept trying to pretend it wasnât a bother. It didnât matter what explanation he gave, you sometimes found yourself feeling worthless and angry too.
âHurts even more when the news think he might come back right?â You asked quietly, feeling your own eyes moisten at the thought of it. You knew he wasnât ever coming back, that he wasnât on the moon, but the hope that others had that he would come back, God it hurt.
âI just⌠How can he just leave his sibling like that? After all youâve both been through, let alone me too. After all he sacrificed for us, suddenly his judgement on our worth is just⌠wrong,â Bucky sighed, closing his eyes, a tear finally dropping from his cloudy eyes and onto your hair. You sat there for a moment, trying to think, trying to find a way to reassure him that Steve wasnât wrong to value him so, that he wasnât wrong to risk so much for Bucky. And yet he left, he left you both for a different life than the ones you had worked so hard to carve. Still though, you almost understood. He had watched your romance with Bucky flourish, had watched on as Bucky proposed and you started planning your wedding. Had lost you both for 5 years. He was lonely, and no amount of love you and Bucky gave him would amount to what he so strongly desired.
âI promise you that you are worthy of everything he gave for you, that I gave for you. He just⌠everything that happened to us, he never had someone the way we have each other. And yeah, itâs wrong, I wish everyday he didnât leave the way he did, that he had given us more time. Or even given Sam more time at the bare minimum. But he was as lonely as I was before we found you again. He was distraught after losing us, that he desperately clung onto whatever love he thought he needed. He was wrong to leave us, but he has never been wrong about you. And I have never been wrong about you, that you can always and forever be certain,â You gritted out. Flowing from your mouth at first with no effort, like a river flowing around bends and stones, only to halt, only for you to choke out the final words. It was as if a message from the universe had poured forth, beginning in your heart before forcing its way to your throat and finally given life through your voice. You knew who he was, you always had. It was your secret melody you had kept in your heart throughout the war, all through the ice, hid the melancholic love song from the avengers, and finally shared it again with the man you loved, never losing it. You could never have been wrong, after all, your promises, kindness, history, moments of happiness, your life, had been what had brought Bucky back to you. But sometimes you could see that he was blind to this, that he thought you might finally discover something about him that didnât exist, that nameless thing that made Steve leave everyone. You had to tell him, and you would every time.
âPlease, say it again,â Bucky asked softly, the bristles of his stubble rubbing into your scalp as he continued to hold you close.
âI have never been wrong about you, I have never been wrong about choosing you, keeping my heart just to give it to you. I will keep choosing you always, because I know you are worthy of my love, my Bucky bear,â You assured, gripping his calloused hands in your own (s/c) ones. He was crying now, you felt it. Falling like the summer rain into your hair, nourishing your soul like the rain would the soil. Truly you were holding him, despite his arms encircling you and keeping you safe, secure. It didnât feel truly sad, bittersweet more so. You cried quietly with him, letting the tears run tracks down your face. Those words werenât just for him, you realised, you needed to hear them too.
âI will never stop choosing you (Y/N) Rogers, and nothing will stop me from being with you. Not even time itself,â Bucky promised in return, turning your watery eyes into full on sobs. It felt good though, crying while you both held the other tightly, grieving over someone who was so important to you both, but also celebrating, in a strange, oddly romantic way. Your souls had been intertwined from the minute you had met, remaining so even now, possibly even more tightly bound.
Grief is a funny thing, even though he wasnât dead, Steve was gone, and the pain he left nearly broke you both. Together though, you could get through it, and hopefully, you learn to celebrate his life, even if you didnât agree with it.
âWill we ever stop crying about each other?â You questioned softly, wiping your nose on Buckyâs red Henley.
âI hope not,â Bucky confessed quietly, gracing your head with a tender kiss, radiating a familiar warmth throughout your body.
old avengers fics were all thor loves pop tarts, tony Literally Never Sleeps, bucky used to be a fisherman or worked at the docks and now lives with steve, coulson loves SuperNanny and idolized Jo, the only degree bruce uses is his M.D, the kitchen is never used for cooking purposes, and clint travels exclusively through the vents
Yaâll are erasing Lokiâs punishment for the battle of New York is being banished to live with the Avengers, and most importantly, Avengers movie night where they watch movies for relaxation and to educate Steve as he sits confused the whole time.
It wasnât as if you had meant to end up outside his dorm room after his stupidly early bedtime of 8pm, but the tears streaming down your cheeks combined with the noiseless dorm building were hopefully excuse enough. Not sleeping had taken itâs toll on your body, the constant shaking of your hands as you fruitlessly tried to wipe away made the sobs rack your entire being even harder now that you were trying to stifle your emotions. Your arm tensed multiple times are your brainâs battle raged on, could you really knock on his door? Would you really wake the Pomeranian up from his beauty sleep? Breathing in as deeply as you could, yet disturbed by the shakiness of each inhale, your (e/c) eyes tried to glance around the hallway in order to calm yourself down. Your bare feet on the floor were cold, your toes almost frozen solid. Your oversized hoodie only just covered your legs, and it was almost as if cartoon shiver lines could literally be seen surrounding you. The hallway lights had been off for a while now, and the windows let in large amounts of moonlight. Yet despite all that, the emptiness and stillness of everything around you seemed to crush you. You were so utterly alone, not even the world cared to move for you while you went through this crisis.
And it hurt.
It hurt so badly, the thought that no one even bothered with you when everything felt as if it was crumbling around you. Why were you so stupid to think that he, of all people, would care about someone as worthless as you? The tears started to fall harder, and you could taste the saltiness overwhelm your mouth. With shaky steps you tried to turn away from the dorm, to go back to own and suffer in silence. You thought it was what you deserved, you thought that it was what someone as horrid as you needed.
âWhere the hell do you think youâre going?â Asked a gruff voice as your felt calloused fingers grip your shaking wrist. Turning quickly, your (e/c) eyes caught his red ones, red eyes that were tired and narrowed at the same time. Bakugou was staring you down, his hand still clutching your wrist, but surprisingly it was a hold softer than you thought he was capable.
âHowâd you know I was here?â You sniffled out, using your other hand to rub at your leaking eyes once again. Bakugou simply rolled his eyes at this as he pulled you quietly into his room, letting you walk in as far as you wanted.
âYour 10 text messages and 3 phone calls woke me up. Youâre also horrible at keeping your damn voice down,â He replied gruffly as he shut his door as softly as possible. You couldnât do anything but stand there and watch him stiffly move to face you, his arms bulging out of his singlet top. You were frozen to the spot now that you processed what was happening. Here you were, your cheeks tear stained and face red, standing in not only a boyâs dorm room, but your crushâs dorm room. His blonde hair seemed almost spikier than it usually was, and as you quickly tried to stop your eyes from connecting, you noticed him cock his head to the side as he often did.
âYou really are an idiot arenât you (n/n)-chan?â Bakugou huffed with a shake of his head, walking straight past you to sit on the edge of his bed. Bakugou watched as you remained glued to your spot, almost frozen in your movements if it wasnât for the tears running down your face, and muffled sobs shaking your body. Not that you could see, but a frown overtook his own face at your near silent whimpers. Your normally (s/c) skin was dull, and your entire form looked as if it were about to fold in on itself. With a roll of his eyes, he once again softly grabbed your wrist and pulled you down to sit beside him, his own hands coming up to hold yours lightly.
âIâm here (n/n)-chan, what do you need to talk about?â He asked with a grumble and yet you knew. You knew this was the height of vulnerability for him. You had been friends since you had both started at UA surprisingly, and while you had no clue why he liked you, it was clear to Bakugou that there was just something about you. Something that made him a little more sociable. Hell, if it werenât for your connection, he was certain that he wouldnât be hanging out with shitty hair or the other bozos in his supposed squad.
âI feel⌠so worthless Katsuki. I⌠I donât know why Iâm even here at this school. Iâm so useless Katsuki, and no one seems to realise it,â You sobbed, the lump in your throat letting way to more harsh cries. His grip tightened subconsciously on your hands, as he watched your face carefully. Unfortunately, this wasnât an entirely new experience. He had been woken up by your non-stop calls before youâd moved into dorms, your sobs filled with self-doubt and unfortunately self-hate. He listened as you relentlessly sobbed and split your anxiety ridden guts to him, his thumbs lightly rubbing your thumbs in comfort.
âAnd I just feel like, everyone should hate me. Iâm so horrible and they donât realize it,â You cried out, your head dropping as your (h/c) hair fell in front of your face.
âYouâre not.â Bakugou stated plainly, and although his red eyes were still narrowed, there was a determination in them. He didnât hate doing this, if anything, deep down his angry little heart, he felt warm in the cheeks at the thought that you had chosen him to trust. You trusted him with your fears and innermost thoughts. But he did hate that you thought of yourself like this.
âBut I am. All I do is annoy people, including you. Right now, for example, Iâm annoying you,â You wept.
âNo, youâre not. (n/n)-chan, you need to tell your lying ass stupid brain to shut the hell the up,â Bakugou replied, finally catching your eye as you brought your head up.
âItâs wrong, itâs telling you lies and to be honest you need to beat it the hell up,â Bakugou told you completely seriously, and you couldnât help but laugh almost pitifully at his words. He raised a blonde eyebrow at your reaction, before a small smile barely overtook his face.
âNo, youâre right. I need to use my quirk to beat my stupid brain into ground for lying to me,â You smiled, your tears finally subsiding as your breathing calmed. Bakugou let out a sigh of relief at this, and felt the tension leave his shoulders.
âYouâre right about that. (y/n), you know that people care about you. Shitty hair, dumb Pikachu, even acid chick and flat face,â He huffed, before finally turning his face away from yours. You watched him carefully as a red blush overtook his face.
âAnd of course, I care about you as well idiot. More than those dumbasses do,â He almost whispered, but of course he made it loud enough so that you could hear. Although it was almost a confession, he knew you needed to hear it right now. He knew you needed reassurance that you were likeable, but he hadnât realised just how much effect hearing the person you like tell you they care about you can have. Your face flushed before you let go of his hands, jumping into his chest as you felt his arms quickly come up to hug you. He clutched you tightly to his chest, not wanting to let go after your confessions about your thoughts that night.
âI care about you too Katsuki-kun,â You almost whispered, a small grin on your face.
âAnd thank you. You always listen to me when Iâm like this, you make me feel better, and like Iâm somebody,â You thanked genuinely, looking him in the eyes with the most thankful look you could muster.
âYouâll always be someone to me,â Bakugou replied with a roll of his red eyes, before knocking his forehead softly into yours. You could only giggle in reply as you held each other close.
