#Celebrimbor x Maeglin

[carmisse]

Random moments from the Silmarillion PT 3

[mag-lore]

Fallen Banners (Celebrimbor x Maeglin)

Pride edit requests open🏳️‍🌈

[whovianofmidgard]

Six Sentences

Thank you @thescrapwitch for tagging me! I'm currently on vacation this week, and the wifi is a bit spotty here, but I'm doing my best to sneak in some writing when I can, primarily finishing up Light Touched and working on some Silm Smut week prompts. Here's a bit of Celebrimbor/Maeglin playing with hair and some flower language:

So much of himself was conveyed with simpy just his hair. It was overwhelming, the power Celebrimbor had over him, to be able to spill his secrets for everyone to see with a few twists of his tresses and a well placed trinket here and there.

"And the hair clips," Maeglin asked, now holding that warm, clever hand in his own, a cheek pressed against calloused fingers. "What kind of flower are they?"

"Ithilloth," Celebrimbor answered. "They're night blooming flowers, and for that they are seen as mysterious. Yet, they are also a reminder that there can still be beauty found even in the darkest of times. Quite a romantic flower, if you ask me."

no pressure tags: @meadowlarkx @thecoolblackwaves @dreamingthroughthenoise @deadqueernoldor @chthonion @jouissants

[cilil]

All tied up in July

AN: Here's another one for @tolkienpinupcalendar! Pairing suggested by @maglor-my-beloved, I believe, thank you so much! ^^

⛓ Prompt: First time trying bondage | Maeglin x Celebrimbor ⛓ Synopsis: It's not the first time Maeglin has been bound, but the first time he does it for pleasure. ⛓ Warnings: Light bondage, brief reference to past abuse ⛓ Short oneshot (~750 words)

"Do you think you can do this? We don't have to."

The gentleness in Celebrimbor's voice prompts Maeglin to vehemently shake his head before he even considers the question. His mother, his uncle, his cousin Idril, they all spoke to him like this once, and he hates it. 

"I can do it. I'm fine," he says curtly. 

Celebrimbor doesn't seem convinced. His eyes look soft and warm, like molten silver, and Maeglin loses himself long enough in them for him to voice his doubts. 

"You don't have to put on a brave face for me, you know," Celebrimbor says quietly. "I know what you went through. I know what he can do... what they are capable of. I would never judge you."

"And this is precisely why I must stay strong and try again," Maeglin whispers, fidgeting nervously as he feels words breaking out of him, things he never intended to be spoken aloud. "It... this... was something I always desired and they took advantage of it. I don't want my first and only memory of being bound to be... me being forced and used and ridiculed." 

He half expects his lover to laugh at his admission or fail to understand him, but Celebrimbor nods seriously. 

"I do trust your judgement and I want to do this with you as well. But please promise me that you will use our safe word if it gets too intense for you at any point."

"I will."

"Do you remember the one we agreed on?" 

"Red." 

"Very good." 

Maeglin smiles. In the past he would have gotten angry at Celebrimbor for questioning him like this, but now he knows it's done out of care and concern, not disregard or mockery. 

Without needing to be prompted, he slips out of the simple clothes he's put on for the road and holds out his hands in front of him. 

Celebrimbor accepts his wordless invitation. From his belt he retrieves a coil of rope — one they picked out together, sturdy yet smooth and easy to undo in case of emergency — and begins tying his wrists together. 

Maeglin watches, trying to keep his breath even. At first he feels a small twinge of fear, but then it's drowned out by a surge of desire when he flexes his muscles and moves his arms, straining against the rope, finding his hands sufficiently immobilised. 

His movements cause Celebrimbor to pause once he's done, seeking his gaze to make sure he's feeling fine. Maeglin meets it, smiles, gives a small nod. With him, the sensation of being restrained is pleasant; he wants to know how it feels to be utterly helpless. 

Celebrimbor leads him over to the bed, helps him lie down and slowly climbs on top of him. Maeglin's breath quickens now, acutely aware of the weight settling on top of him, fists clenching. His dark eyes burn with desire. It's all the encouragement his lover needs to move his bound wrists above his head and tie them to the headboard. 

He can't get up now, Maeglin thinks, not with his hands secured and his lover on top of him. Heat gathers in his lower body, and he's overjoyed when he realises that they aren't done yet. 

Slowly, carefully, Celebrimbor gets up from the bed and stands next to him. He parts Maeglin's legs, hands sliding down his right until he reaches his ankle, then takes the rope again. With deft movements, he ties him to the bedpost, then moves to his left leg to do the same. 

Maeglin keeps his head down, preferring to feel rather than watch. His cock is hardening now, betraying his desire, but for once he doesn't worry. Here, with Celebrimbor, his arousal is acceptable, welcome even. 

"You are doing so well." 

A hand caresses his cheek now and Maeglin glances up at Celebrimbor. 

"Can you get on top of me again?" he asks quietly, biting his lip. 

"I take it you enjoyed that?" 

"Yes." 

Smiling, Celebrimbor leans down to kiss his forehead before acquiescing. He straddles his lower body, letting his full weight come down on top of his lover, gently rolling his hips to create friction. Maeglin moans, and his cock twitches eagerly, trapped between their bodies and leaking already. 

"Do you want me to–" 

"No. Just go on. Please." 

He wants to come like this, taking as long as it takes, untouched and without penetration, simply from the presence and touch and comforting weight of his lover; and Celebrimbor, beautiful, smart, gentle Celebrimbor, understands and gives him just that. 

Thanks for reading! ♡

[arofili]

Maeglin/Celebrimbor + 28?

“I thought this was supposed to be happy,” Maeglin said from the shadows.

Celebrimbor sighed, laying a hand on his shoulder. Maeglin repressed the urge to flinch away, reminding himself that this was Tyelpë, who ment such gestures genuinely. He was safe with Tyelpë, even amid...all this.

“In this family, any reunion is bound to result in trouble,” Celebrimbor said. “Even having only met Turukáno and Itarillë, surely you must have known that.”

Maeglin shrugged, letting himself lean against his friend for support. It was nice, to have someone like Celebrimbor to rely on. He hadn’t known it could be this nice.

“I’d hoped...” Maeglin grimaced. More fool him for hoping at all. All that time in Mandos had made him soft. “Well, I’d hoped the others would be different. I didn’t expect my mother to be the one causing the trouble...”

“Well, she and my uncle and father have...unfinished business,” Celebrimbor explained. “I know you said she spoke fondly of them, when you were young, but...it’s still complicated.”

“Well, however unhappy this family reunion is, it’s still worlds better than Nan Elmoth,” Maeglin muttered.

“And it’s better for me that you are here,” Celebrimbor murmured, and kissed him softly in the darkness, where no one else could see.

[runawaymun]

Celebrimbor and Meaglin for pride!

underrated ship IMO. Thank you!!

[ladygavroche]

Chapters: 4/6 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Maeglin | Lómion, Elrond Peredhel & Ereinion Gil-galad, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Maeglin | Lómion Characters: Maeglin | Lómion, Elrond Peredhel, Círdan | Nowë, Glorfindel (Tolkien) Additional Tags: Maeglin is Gil-galad, Gil-galad Son of Plothole, Second Age, Self-Loathing, Tags to be updated with new chapters, Suicidal Thoughts, Animal Death, Self-Harm, fallen banners, Explicit Sexual Content, Mildly Dubious Consent Series: Part 3 of Sharp star Summary:

Maeglin and Gil-Galad hate each other; it is really unfortunate that they are actually the same person.

Or,

Elrond would like his King to stay safe and healthy. His King, however, has no interest in taking care of himself.

--

Yes, I’m aware it has been forever... but chapter 4 is up! I hope you like Fallen banners :)

[doodle-pops]

Cosy Flufftober Inklings

˚₊‧꒰ა Here is the masterlist for the content posted throughout the Cozy Flufftober Inklings Event ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

︶꒦꒷Fics/Scenarios꒷꒦︶

𑁍 Drunken Autumn Nights — Fingon x reader

𑁍 Cinnamon Love — Maglor x reader

𑁍 T’was The Night of Autumn — Celebrimbor x modern!reader

𑁍 Haunting Mischief — Elrond x reader

︶꒦꒷Headcanons꒷꒦︶

𑁍 Celebrating Autumn with the Lords of Gondolin

𑁍 Cosy Autumn Days — Thingol, Beleg, Gwindor & Gil Galad

𑁍 Haunted House with the Lords of Gondolin

©doodle-pops 2024: no permission to repost, upload, plagiarise, copy or translate my work. I do not own these characters, all rights to the original creators.

[carmisse]

Of the reunion in Valinor.

Celeborn : So, who is this guy you're dating?

Maeglin : Oh valar, are you serious?

Thranduil : Very seriously, we must know who is courting with our little cousin.

Maeglin : ...

Galathil : Spoiler alert, he is a Fëanorian.

Celeborn and Thranduil : What!?

Celebrimbor, entering the room at a moment's notice : Hey babe, I need your help with some things in the forg-.

Celeborn : Tyelpë!?

Thranduil : oh, that Fëanorian. Honestly you could have done worse.

Celebrimbor : I beg your pardon?

Galathil : You are forgiven boy.

Celeborn : I think my blood pressure is low, I need to sit down.

[mag-lore]

Celebrimbor and Maeglin are such a good pairing, whether romantic or platonic. They're both nerds, smiths, and like to be underground. They're both black sheep of their families, Tyelpë for rejecting them and Maeglin for being half dark elf. They both have issues living in their fathers' shadow, and trying to choose what to honor and what to disavow. They've both been hurt terribly by the Dark Lords, one broke under this torment, and one resisted until the end. One is the traitor, one was betrayed.

They have so much potential together, so much angst, yes, but also the comfort they can find in their own shared experiences. They can understand each other in ways many other people cannot. They both need a shoulder to lean on and one to cry on, and I think they would fill that role perfectly for each other.

[silmsmutweek]

ROUND-UP: ELF/MORTAL

All creations are Mature or Explicit unless marked as *sfw. Please see work tags for warnings.

Aegnor/Andreth I hate you, I love you by @between-thepages One Little Lie by Elves_Behaving_Badly

Bëor/Finrod A Harmony Refracted by @eilinelsghost

Beren/Lúthien An Offering Before the Fairest by @daegred-winsterhand the red blood flowing by Anonymous

Caranthir/Haleth The first of many glorious nights by @a-world-of-whimsy-5 Day 4 by @isilwhore

Caranthir/Haleth/Original Characters Put to the Test by @maglor-my-beloved

Celebrimbor/Narvi Untitled by @sallysavestheday *sfw & Gimli/Legolas Elf-Dwarf Coupling by @welcomingdisaster

Idril/Tuor/Voronwë Day 4 by @tethysresort

Maeglin/Túrin WiP excerpt by @jaz-the-bard

Míriel/Tar-Míriel Queens of Númenor by @maglor-my-beloved

Nellas/Niënor Day 1 by @slightnettles

Orodreth/Túrin Solace by @polutrope

[elficially-done-with-life]

I left out Finwë & Míriel & Indis, since that situation is quiet complicated to put it simple😅

I only included ships I (for some reason) found fanworks about during my time in this fandom, if there is a canon/noncanon ship that i did not include that isn't because I don't like it but simply because I didn't find it here (I'm still kind of new to the fandom, I've only been here for like three months...)

[polyamships]

Chapters: 8/9 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Idril Celebrindal/Maeglin | Lómion/Tuor/Túrin Turambar, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Maeglin | Lómion, Idril Celebrindal/Maeglin | Lómion, Idril Celebrindal/Tuor, Maeglin | Lómion/Tuor, Idril Celebrindal/Maeglin | Lómion/Tuor, Maeglin | Lómion/Túrin Turambar Characters: Maeglin | Lómion, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar, Túrin Turambar, Tuor (Tolkien), Idril Celebrindal Additional Tags: War Prize, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, prisoner maeglin, fear of non-con, please de-anon!, rated T for chapters 1-3 and E after, Trans Male Character, trans celebrimbor, Trans Maeglin, Bodice-Ripper Summary:

The Nirnaeth ends in a partial victory, but not everything is fixed by that. For one thing, the monster who imprisoned Aredhel and damaged her memories is still alive, and nearly all of Beleriand is upset with Thingol. And it just so happens that Nan Elmoth is reported to hold a secret key to the Girdle of Melian...

Idril, Celebrimbor, Túrin, and Tuor have very little trouble taking Nan Elmoth, and even killing Eöl is suprisingly easy. But in the process they manage to capture his son and take him as their prize, hoping to hold him to account and force the secrets of Doriath from him.

They weren't expecting him to be so sharp, so troublesome, so attractive...

[i-did-not-mean-to]

J - Jewellery

Written for @maglor-my-beloved <3

Words: 900

Pairing: Celebrimbor x Maeglin, Bilbo & Yavanna

Warnings: Sadness & Trauma

Yavanna sat on a tree and hummed to herself.

“Lady,” Bilbo Baggins called up conversationally, “do you think that it was wise to let your husband participate in the healing efforts? Lady Estë seems out of sorts; she’s very worried about this.”

“Ah, dear Bilbo,” the lady of all things growing and flourishing replied in a voice as soft as rustling leaves, “you—of all people—must know best that Aulë and his creatures wither and die when they have nothing to do. Their heart is in the right spot, and they truly want to help, even if their way of going about it seems unconventional at first. Care to join me?”

She winked conspiratorially for—even though she evidently did support her spouse’s involvement—she intended to survey it from a safe distance to be able to intervene if necessary.

“So,” Aulë started grandiloquently, “I have opened my forge for you to…process some of the trauma you have sustained before your…demise.”

This was not going very well, judging by the unconvinced faces in front of him; he wondered how Manwë always managed to find the right words to sway people and move their hearts. Worse, he even pondered Melkor’s singular talents in that domain for a second.

“Have fun,” he finished in a much less powerful tone and returned to tend to his own forge in silence; the two who were here today knew their way around a workshop anyway, and they didn’t need his input—healing or otherwise—just yet.

“They work well together,” Bilbo commented in a soft voice as they watched the scene through the wide-open doors of the forge.

Lómion had only been coaxed out of the Halls of Waiting by the promise that there was one who would join in him Aulë’s new reinsertion program who was just as reticent to talk about what had happened to him as he was.

Celebrimbor on the other hand, had been desperate to get out, but—once reembodied—he had struggled considerably to get used to his hale flesh and the omnipresent shadow of guilt and resentment that haunted his family.

They didn’t speak about their parents—too daunting was the idea of unravelling the tight knot of mutual distrust, disappointment, and visceral resentment that had festered and hardened during the time they had spent apart.

One day, they well knew, they would have to face the truth and work their way through the family tree of the perpetually absent Finwë in their quest for forgiveness and healing—but they were not yet at a point where they could even consider this without shrinking back in dismay.

In each other though, they found a quantum of peace—they were kin in more aspects than could be counted and their souls recognised each other in the flickering reflections of the ever-burning fires of the forge.

Doomed by birth, they had rebelled against their parents—maybe even driven them to some of their most reckless and gruesome acts inadvertently—only to die alone, free or robbed of their protection and love. Such self-inflicted isolation and deprivation had marked them in ways few could even begin to understand.

“Beautiful,” Celebrimbor praised as he apprised the gem his kinsman brought over to set in the pendant he was crafting from thousands of metal tendrils, thin and flexible as single hairs and strong and enduring as mountains.

His eyes wandered from the polished stone to the pale, stern face of his collaborator and he repeated his previous assessment in a breathless, awed voice.

Both had found—to their surprise and relief—that they still delighted in the making of intricate jewellery, but they would refuse to devise rings or set stones into coronets and crowns—too deep was the trauma and too fresh the wounds for such designs.

Moreover, the name of that fallen Maia, who had almost ruined Middle-Earth, was never spoken. Each nurtured his grievances with the one who had pretended to be a friend and who had turned out to be a cruel torturer in private.

“In time,” Yavanna whispered, feeling that Bilbo’s own heart clenched in anger and pain at the thought of the one he had only ever known as Sauron. “You’ll learn the whole story. He was charming, you know? At the very beginning and almost until the end, he was an apt liar and a devastating seducer.”

“I guess,” Bilbo muttered, massaging his hands to dispel the phantom pain of a ring he had not worn nor even seen in a long time. “Will they be okay?”

Yavanna nodded at the forge where the ancient magic of skill and ambition was revived by deft hands, made anew by the grace of the Valar, blending techniques and ideas that had come from another world and another time.

Even as they spoke, Celebrimbor had lifted the delicate pendant off the table and presented it to Lómion in the brash, mute manner of a man who no longer trusted his words.

“It’s…a mole?” Bilbo breathed, amazed by the extraordinary skill the elf displayed. “Incredible! The style…reminds me…”

As Yavanna witnessed the choked sob of recognition and gratitude tearing itself from Lómion’s throat—he was a Nolofinwëan, and thus an ugly crier by nature—and hummed under her breath as her soul shivered in compassion.

“Hmmm, it has a dwarven flair indeed. That, my dear Bilbo,” she murmured, “is also a story for another day though.”

@fellowshipofthefics Here's another one :D

Lots of love from me

-> Masterlist

[runawaymun]

for the ship asks: Celebrimbor/Erestor (or Celebrimbor/Elrond/Erestor) and Celebrimbor/Maeglin?

~ maglor-my-beloved <3

Celebrimbor/Erestor

I intellectually understand why they might be shipped (especially if one is a Fëanorian Erestor truther) but for me they’re very firmly in a platonic family dynamic and so it feels incestuous but not in a fun sexy way haha. But I get why’s people might ship them. It just absolutely does not compel me whatsoever.

Celebrimbor/Maeglin

This is not a ship that I go out of my way for but nearly every single fic I have casually opened that is about them being together I have enjoyed. There are a lot of reasons why they make sense together! And I always love seeing kind forgiving best boy Celebrimbor with damaged distrustful messy Maeglin. It’s such a compelling ship dynamic so I completely get the appeal. They have the potential to become brainrotty if I let them.

[lamemaster]

The Curse of Bloodlines (Epilogue 😔)

Request: For the annon who sends me this request every day. You know who you are and you have my respect fellow gremlin.

Pairing: Thranduil x Reader

AN: I never wanted to write this. But alas for those who cannot live without a happy ending go thrive. Please no more requests for this AU after this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Epilogue |

"Atyo!" You peel Celegorm's hands off Thranduil's throat. At once your uncles are at the task of taking him to another room as you follow them. Not daring to look back at him. Too scared that you might not be able to leave if you do.

Perhaps it was the fear of finding the same disdained look you had witnessed in Arda. The fear of being subjected to it had left your eyes anywhere but, Thranduil.

So you focus all your attention on your father, who almost escapes the grasp of 4 of his brothers, including Uncle Maedhros, who towered over the majority in Valinor.

"Ata, not now," your voice cuts through the din, surprisingly firm despite the tremor in your heart. Your father's face contorted in a snarl, but something in your voice, perhaps the raw emotion, caused him to pause.

"Let me go!" he roared, his voice thick with fury. "I won't be mocked by that… that…" he trailed off, his tongue failing him to find an insult that wouldn't ignite another confrontation.

You shake your head and lead him out. "Let's leave. Grandfather is waiting."

You clenched your jaw, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. This meeting, the one you'd dreaded since your days in the Halls of Mandos, had been a disaster. And the worst part? It was just the beginning.

Meeting your father was something you had wished for forever. An unfulfilled yearning you grew up with. The same yearning Legolas grew up with. Absence of a bond that made the entirety of an existence.

Settling in his arms was a comfort unknown to you in life. Death had been kinder in many ways.

The agony of right and wrong seared on both you and your father. Ignorance of the bond that is most priced above any other. Blood that had cost you the love of your husband and the chance to watch your son grow.

But things that once shredded your heart into pieces now were distant worries. The sting of betrayal and the ache of lost years paled in comparison to the warmth of your father's embrace. His tearful apologies, whispered promises of redemption, were a balm to your wounded soul.

You met then, your uncles, your grandfather, your great-grandfather, An entire clan doomed in the halls of death. And so the task of stitching back together the House of Finwe began.

From uncountable days spent sharing stories by the pillar of your Grandfather, Feanor's firey pillar, to bringing along the souls of your troubled cousins Aegnor and Maeglin. Finweans started healing.

And you became the princess of Noldor. A title that came with a hefty price.

Legolas' friendship with Finrod wasn't a surprise. Both, you realized, carried the weight of a love lost to time – a grief you could never fully understand or soothe.

Legolas, however, found solace elsewhere. Celebrimbor, with his gentle spirit, became his closest confidante. He regaled Amrod and Amras with tales of Middle-earth, earning their playful grumbles about being called "grandfathers." Feanor, a name whispered in legends, became a complex figure he learned about through stories and perhaps, even fleeting glimpses of him to and from the forge.

Your interactions with Legolas were tentative at first. You were a stranger to him, a face from stories whispered in hushed tones. He longed to know the woman who carried him.

Awkward silences hung heavy in the air, punctuated by whispered stories of his life in Greenwood. He spoke of Thranduil with respect, but a flicker of sadness lingered in his eyes. He spoke of a man named Estel, a human who had become a dear friend, a story that filled you with bittersweet joy.

Then came the inevitable – a meeting with Master Gimli. Their shared tales of their unlikely friendship brought laughter to the once desolate House of Feanor.

Finally, after much coaxing, you managed to convince Legolas to attend Oropher's feast. You knew a march to invite the entire Noldorian royal family was a tad excessive, even by his standards.

Noldor marching was almost always was a perilous idea.

"Apply this twice a day," you mutter, handing him the small vial. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you allowed yourself to meet his gaze. "For the bruises," you clarified, pointing to the dark marks of your father's grip on his throat.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then settled into a mask of stoicism. His eyes, those same eyes that once held the warmth of a thousand sunrises, seemed distant, etched with the weight of untold ages. They held an emotion you couldn't quite define - a far cry from the hatred that burned in them during your last moments together.

His hand brushed against yours as he reached for the vial, sending a jolt through you. The grief that had settled between you, heavy and suffocating, felt like a tangible presence in the air.

"I apologize for my father," you began, your voice barely a whisper. "He is…"

"Troubled," he finished the sentence, his voice surprisingly gentle. "As are we all."

A heavy silence descended upon you once more. He spoke, breaking the quietude, his voice laced with a weary resignation. "I do not know what penance I shall bear to ever right the wrongs I have committed. I have searched for ages, scouring the world, but I cannot find a path back to the past I crave."

"I do not know what repentance I shall bear to ever right the wrongs I have committed," he continued, his voice barely above a murmur. "This yearning for what we once had consumes me, yet I detest it, for I do not believe I am worthy of it." His voice cracked, and for a moment, the once proud king you knew of was now stripped bare, revealing an elf consumed by regret.

The air around you seemed to crackle with unspoken apologies and unspoken yearning. You gathered your courage, forcing the words from your lips. "I do not know much of right or wrong," you began, your voice surprisingly steady. "Neither do I understand the intricacies of penance or forgiveness. Yet, from all I have learned in this strange realm, one thing resonates."

He averted his gaze, his back turned to you, his broad shoulders slumped in defeat. All the air seemed to have been sucked from the room, leaving a hollow ache in your chest.

Your mind raced, searching for the right words. "No act is set in stone. No grievance can hold its power over the relentless march of time. My kin, they wronged many, yet even they found a measure of peace." You thought of your uncles, of your father, finally released from the burdens of their choices.

"They were able to return to the light of Aman because they allowed themselves to seek forgiveness," you continued. "Beyond mine or Legolas', it is your own that you require the most." You reached out then, your fingers brushing against his cheek.

"We have all the time in the world." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a whisper of a kiss. A flawed marriage, a flawed separation, and a flawed reunion, yet, nothing had managed to make it any less sweeter.