#Feanor sons x reader

[animatorweirdo]

Feanorians: Being Their Soulmate...

Different soulmate troupes with the Feanorians.

Requested by Anon

Hi animatorweirdo!

Can I send in a request for different soulmate tropes for the Feanorians and when they find their soulmate? (for example, tropes like the red-string of fate, timer countdown, having a tattoo that symbolizes them on your body, etc).

Thank you so much and I can't wait to see what you come up with!!

(Author note: I didn't do Curufin and the twins as I could not come up with anything with them. )

Warnings: mentions of the book events, mentions of Maedhros's captivity, loss of a hand, separation, reluctance, the oath, doom, and rejection.

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Maedhros —  Tattoo 

- Maedhros would have a small tattoo on the back of his right hand, right below his thumb and index finger. He would have been confused the first time it appeared, but then he would be excited when his parents or someone else told him it was the mark of his soulmate. 

- He had been given a tattoo that represented his soulmate. His soulmate would bear a tattoo on the same spot that represented him and he would know once he had seen them. 

- Growing up in Valinor he would check people’s hands to see if they had a tattoo on the same spot as him. 

- If you two met in Valinor, he would find a small star on the back of your right hand below your thumb and index. 

- He would be delighted to have finally found you, and most likely would have not hesitated to get to know you and start a relationship with you. His family would be happy for him. 

- However, if you two met in Middle Earth. His feelings about finding his soulmate would be much more complicated. 

- For example, the great enemy mocking the mark of his soulmate and threatening to find them would have left him reluctant to ever find his soulmate. Losing his right hand would have solidified his decision. 

- He would stare at his missing hand from time to time, remembering the mark of his soulmate. He would hope his soulmate would never find him as his reputation would certainly tarnish theirs. 

- If you two did manage to meet, he would feel strange pulling toward you. If you two clicked very well, he would mistake it for simple crushing or fondness. However, that would not be the case when he sees the star on your right hand. 

- Realizing you were his soulmate would cause him to distance himself away from you, startled and anxious to realize you were his one. He would then make a hard decision, to either give himself this chance to feel your love or push you away and possibly save you from the doom that followed him. 

- If he decided to embrace the fact and allow himself to be selfish just once, Maedhros would not reveal you were soulmates but enjoy your company. He would have decided to enjoy it while it lasted because relationships would not last during wars. His feelings for you would have grown but he would have kept it as a good friendship, and it would have hurt less when you two had to separate. 

- If he decided to distance himself and cut ties with you, his soul would ache for your presence and he would feel miserable for causing you to feel sad and confused by his sudden distance. He would have most likely been harsh and explained that you two couldn’t talk to each other, growing the drift between you. 

- Making you leave would be the hardest decision he had ever made. However, it would ease his soul to know you would not be doomed by him and his oath. 

- If there was a chance Eru took pity on you, he would either allow you to meet again in better circumstances or let you have someone else for a soulmate. 

Maglor — Red string of fate

- (Because I think Maglor would love tragic love stories, the red string of fate would be fitting for him.)

- Maglor would be blooming with excitement when one day he saw a red string attached to his finger. He would have read all about the red string of fate and would have most likely been eager to go on an adventure to find his soulmate, the red string being his guide. Unfortunately, he was too young to go on his own. 

- Growing up, he would occasionally check on the red string to see if his soulmate was nearby as the red string would extend or become more clear when his soulmate was near. 

- If you two met on Valinor, it would have happened during a party or one of his performances. He would be surprised to see the red string suddenly become visible and lead his eyes upon you. However, it would not have been an unwelcome surprise and he would have jumped on the first chance to talk with you. 

- His search would finally be over after meeting you and his family would have to suffer his constant serenading of finding his soulmate. 

- However, if you met on Middle Earth, his feelings would be slightly reluctant, but not opposed to it. 

- After the whole kin slaying and burning of the boats, he would have wished he would not find his soulmate. The red string went more distant, but he would be surprised to find the red string showing itself more one day. 

- He would be curious to find them and one day when he met you, he would feel happy. 

- He would be more open about revealing being his soulmate and having a relationship with you. However, since he and his kin were at war with Morgoth, the relationship would have to be kept as a secret. 

- However, if he decided you two would be better off without each other. He would send you away with good wishes and hopes that fate would allow you to meet again, and thus ends the tragic love story.

 

Celegorm — Dreams/Led by your pets

- As a hunter, I think Celegorm would have a prophetic dream about an animal that would lead him to his soulmate. 

- In his dreams, he would see an animal he is meant to find and follow to find his soulmate. He is a free spirit so he might find the dreams and the thought of having a soulmate slightly annoying. 

- However, if he came to meet with the said animal from his dreams he would not be opposed to following it and seeing what would happen. And when that happens, Huan would go missing and ignore his calls. 

- He would then find you with the animal and Huan who had led you to him. Perhaps that time, he would be more open and excited when he locked his eyes with you, especially if you two met in the woods of Valinor and the animal turned out to be your companion. 

- However, if you met in Middle Earth, I do not think Celegorm would not hesitate to have a relationship with you. If you both were hunters I think the relationship would go pretty smoothly. 

- But, if the oath comes between you, Celegorm might let you go in order for you to be safe from danger, or if you do not agree, and that he made it clear he would not give up the oath even for you. 

- Separation from you might cause him to become slightly more violent, but the thought of you being somewhere safe might ease it just a bit. 

Caranthir — Timer

 - A timer would suit Caranthir. 

- He would have been very confused when one day he found a clock drawn on his hand and it would not go away no matter how much he washed. 

- It would take both his parents to explain he had received a soulmate clock, which tells how long it would take to meet his soulmate: the more hours and minutes the farther away and the less how close his soulmate is. 

- The idea would not wrap around his head for a while, especially if the clock showed several hours, which only meant his soulmate was nowhere near. 

- He would be thrilled to find out when his clock reveals fewer minutes and would look around in curiosity till he found you. 

- I think he would be slightly shy, but would not avoid you. If you two click and you show your timer, then it would be the start of a beautiful relationship.

- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, he would be skeptical about having a relationship with you. 

- Seeing there was no hope after his reputation as a kin slayer and war with Morgoth, he saw it would be best not to seek out his soulmate. 

- So, imagine the shock he would feel when he finds his timer running toward the end and eventually finding you. 

- In some parts of his soul he would have been thrilled, but due to his unfortunate circumstances, he might avoid revealing about being your soulmate. However, due to the tugging in his soul, he might make a friendly relationship with you. 

- He would feel ease from his anger, and it would slightly hurt him to know he might have to separate from you. 

- He would enjoy it while it lasted, before sending you off with heartfelt goodbyes. 

Celebrimbor — A strand of hair

- Celebrimbor would be surprised to find a strand of his hair had turned into a different color, but would be delighted when he learned it was the clue of his soulmate and that his soulmate would have a strand of his hair color. 

- He would not mind walking around with the new color and sometimes styling it while searching for the one who had his hair color. 

- If you two met on Valinor, it would be joyful. 

- However, if you two met on Middle Earth, his feelings on the matter would have died down. 

- But when he suddenly meets you one day and sees the dark strand of hair across your hair. He became frightened as he could feel tugging from within his very soul. 

- He should feel happy by his kin’s standards. He had been blessed by chance to meet his soulmate, but his past and the reputation of his house had left him reluctant. He had hidden the color of your hair in hopes he might not accidentally meet you or anyone who might figure out who his soulmate is. In his mind, you were not worthy to get tarnished by his house’s past, but fate, of course, has worked against him. 

- However, if you were not intimidated by his past, Celebrimbor’s fear might vanish and he might entertain the idea of getting to know you. It would take a lot of time to convince himself to finally reveal your hair color on his hair, and wait for your reaction as your hair colors would match and return to normal.

- If you were happy by the reveal, Celebrimbor might then be confident enough to have a relationship with you. However, he would let you go if you weren't eager by the reveal and decided to leave. He would not blame you, but he would feel a painful aching for your presence and heartache for your rejection.

[doodle-pops]

Echoes of Healing Hands

Maedhros x modern!reader

Request: How about Maedhros x reader from modern world, where reader was a med student from her world and somehow ended up in Middle Earth. Reader makes use of her skills and becomes one of the well known healers. The two meet and reader creates a specialized prospethic hand for him. The two kinda gets close and reader reveals how Angband was the first place where she ended up, having been forced the thralldom and use her knowledge and skills to escape. A bit angts where she is still traumatized by the experience (Maybe that's also how she regognized he had been a thrall himself) One shot might work with this and you can decide where the relationship goes. - @animatorweirdo

A/N: I chose to leave the relationship ambiguous between Mae and reader, so you all can decide if they’re friends or something more.

Warnings: modern reader in Middle Earth, fluff and comfort, humour, small touches of reminiscing the past, reader had spent time in Angband, consumption of alcohol

Words: 2k

Synopsis: You spend a moment with the Lord of Himring, demonstrating your skills while he returns the favour with a touch of gratitude and sympathy.

“It might be tight at first and slightly discomforting, however, give or take a week or two, you’ll merge and become one with it,” you explained as you fastened the straps of the prosthetic hand to Maedhros. “For now, practice holding small and light objects before advancing to larger and heavier ones. So, what do you think?”

The light from the fireplace flickered against his porcelain skin, casting hues of golden swirls which seemed to highlight his brilliant head of red, loose curls. They cascaded around his shoulders and stopped at his chest now that the moon had risen to signify another day had come to an end. You watched as he cautiously lifted his right hand, grimacing at the notice of the additional weight before attempting to curl his fingers and admiring your craftsmanship. Maedhros inspected your newly designed gadget with slight apprehension despite the feeling of gratitude arising.

“It does bear a slight pinch around the wrist, but I assume that is for now,” he replied. “The colour, red and gold, an excellent touch!”

“You’re lucky I didn’t paint it pink and purple with a touch of flowers since we’re in spring,” you snickered under his glare. “It would match the aesthetic of the season, and you. Come to think of it, I’ll make for the other seasons.”

“Please,” he begged with a worried expression as he looked away from his hand to meet your amused expression. “I beseech thee to not. One is fine, plus, you do not have any other projects to complete. So I think it is worth sharing a drink with me on this fine night, do you not think so?”

Scoffing as you sink yourself in the seat opposite him, you reach for the flask of wine and pour two glasses. “You do know that drinking leads to intoxication, and your idea of ‘a drink’ normally implies bottles.”

Taking the offered glass from your hand using his gifted hand, he carefully held the glass, finding a secured grip and brought it to his lips for his first deep swig. There was an evident glow on his face the longer the glass remained confidently in his hand. “Rest assured, ‘a drink’ in this case implies one, for your kindness. Thank you for creating this. While I do not believe that I am deserving of this gift, especially after all that I’ve—”

“You seem to have a problem saying, ‘thank you’ without reminiscing on the past, don’t you?” you smirked over the rim of your glass as you took a sip. “You elves and your million fancy, flowery ways to say, ‘thank you’ and then proceed to depreciate yourselves. However, you’re welcome.”

He frowned with a bemused expression on his face. His mouth was opened and ready to counter, yet the smirk you sent his way made him reconsider his choice of words and left a faint heat on his cheeks. “You…” he began as he struggled to spit out his words, “you have a strange way of speaking ever since I met you. You seem to despise the manner in which we elves speak.”

“Yeah, I definitely do,” you muttered and laughed, causing him to frown deeply. “Where I’m from, we just say what needs to be said without a bunch of mumbo-jumbo attached. No beating around the bushes.”

Maedhros’s frown morphed into scepticism as he listened to your scolding on their dialect while making a mental note to be more direct and upfront anytime he needed to speak to you. “Mumbo-jumbo?” he puzzled while furrowing his lips before he straightened in his seat. “Where are you from, if you do not mind me asking? You had not exactly told me other than your time in the Iron Fortress. Where is this ‘where I am from’ you speak of?”

“While isn’t it obvious?” you stated in a matter-of-fact tone to which he awkwardly shook his head. “I’m not from this world, duh! I’m from a far, far, away place where all these things still exist, only ten times worse. The only difference is that I was never involved in anything the way I was forced to…”

The air between you two fell into silence with the crackling of the firewood in the background. Neither of you spoke, causing the let the moment of reflection to resurface. Your memories, despite not facing anything tormenting as Maedhros suffered, were still frightening. Appearing in Angband decades after his escape and being forced to find a way to save yourself from being harmed, you offered up the skills you earned from being a medical engineer to design new artillery. Anything to prevent that bitch-ass redhead from feeding you to the wolves, literally.

The constant fear you felt in the short time you were there was enough to surmount the volume he felt. They were evident in your eyes and on your skin beneath your heavily adorned garments.

You and Maedhros were in the same water, at different depths, yet still drowned.

“I…Accept my condolences for what you might have experienced,” he gingerly whispered, setting the glass on the table.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too, but what’s done is done,” you half-heartedly chuckled and took a deep swig, wincing as the wine burned your throat. “It is what it is.”

Pausing with his mouth hanging open at your unapologetic, coping statement, he muttered, “That is an odd thing to say given your trauma, however, I shall not judge. But what I want to know is, how did you get here from this other world of yours?”

With the change in topic, you glanced over to witness his eyes swimming with eagerness. The possibilities of another world existing were unheard of by the Valar, so could it have been an untold work of Eru? Another realm that dwelt beyond the Timeless Halls?

“That’s something I really can’t figure out to this day. Cause all I knew was that one day, I was taking a long nap after my stressful exams, and then bam! I woke up on a table with that bitch-ass of a redhead hovering and asking his dumbass questions. I felt as though I could have strangled him, and then he made me abuse my medical practices.”

“Mairon! You appeared in Angband out of thin air and the first person you met was him?!” you gasped.

“Yeah, and it was pretty scary. I thought I was dreaming at first because no way in hell a place like that could exist in real life. But when things got heated, I realised that it was real. I had never prayed so much to wake up, especially when I told him my whereabouts but he didn’t believe me. He was going to throw me to the wolves.”

“I’ve heard of his cruelty from others. I was fortunate to not have met him during my…”

“Trust me, you were bloody lucky,” your voice trembled. “If I ever saw that bastard again, I’d feed his ass to the wolves. Never thought that I would hate redheads so much!”

The moment your last sentence slipped past your lips, Maedhros’s face morphed into dejection. What little light that shone in his face, vanished, as did the glow of his hair. As much as he tried to focus on the rest of your words, the loudness of your hatred towards redheads resonated exponentially in his head, prompting him to sulk. However, he was far from subtle since his dejection was visible to the eye which you eventually noticed.

Gasping with an apologetic expression, you vomited a whirlwind of words. “Oh God no! I didn’t mean you! I don’t hate you; I hate him—he’s the only redhead I despise! But you, you’re nice! I like you a lot; you’re so sweet and kind. I like you, Mae. So don’t take it to heart; you’re cool.”

He puzzled. “You like me?”

Your body’s natural response mechanisms were taking over, replaying all those embarrassing gestures you used to perform when you dwelt in the modern world around your friends. Unable to resist, your fingers lifted to form finger guns, as you aimed them at him and made a clicking sound with your tongue. “Of course I do. Why else would I make you that prosthetic hand and indulge in all your temptations even though I complain? It’s obvious, isn’t it?”

He felt his lips tugging at the corners to stretch into a smile. Maedhros couldn’t say when last he felt like this for it had been too long that the pure feeling of bliss overcame him. Dropping his eyes to the floor as his dimples became prominent, it didn’t matter how hard he bit his lip, the smile kept forming. The little awkward nods of his head followed as he accepted your words, wanting to keep things light.

“I like you too; you are very nice,” he finally managed to spit out with a goofy grin which left the both of you flustered like two teenagers.

“Cool,” you murmured and swallowed the last bit of wine before reaching for the flask to refill your glass to the brim. Anything to wash away the awkwardness that unfolded.

Entertained, Maedhros made a tsking sound and wiggled his prosthetic finger at you. “Did you not scold me for wanting to share a drink with you, and now you are consuming two glasses?”

“Oh shut up! The conversation is going too well to deserve one glass, plus, I can do whatever I want. I’ll just suffer the consequences of a hangover tomorrow. I’m a doctor, I can nurse myself back to full health,” you quietly chortled with a roll of your eyes.

Unbiasedly staring at you as you drank the wine with heaviness, he glanced over your humane features and felt a wave of sadness that this could indeed be a strange dream. One day, he too could wake up and you would be gone forever. Or what if he had never left Angband and the image of you was a conjured coping mechanism? “But what if all this was a dream and you had to wake up, would you want to leave?”

Prying your lips off the glass, you fell into a contemplative silence that left you fretting. You would admit, life here wasn’t the best nor was it the worse, but there was something that existed which wasn’t present in your world. You helped and taught your medical practices while learning the ropes of incorporating magic and natural remedies into your etiquette. Life had its ebbs but they brought you forms of adventure no one would ever experience.

“I don’t know; I can’t answer that honestly. I’d be lying no matter what response I give,” you supposed. “However, I will say that I am grateful to have met and helped you. It was an honour to utilise my knowledge to build you a hand and form a bond with an elf. I never thought I’d meet one, so tall and wasn’t Santa’s little helper, and get this close, thanks to my medical abilities.”

“Likewise. You have been a great companion during your time here with me in my lonely castle. You have given me something to look forward to each day with your strangeness.”

“Of course you would enjoy my company. I’m far better than the ghosts living here,” you snickered. “But I too, enjoy your presence. It’s nice to connect with someone who understands.”

Maedhros offered a genuine smile as he fought to ignore your jest, and reached for his glass with his prosthetic hand and gingerly lifted it to make a toast. “I propose a toast to your hands then. Worry not about what they were forced to do, but the great things they have achieved. Perhaps that is your purpose here, to use your gifted hands.”

“You elves and your poetic words,” you jokingly scoffed while reaching out to knock glasses with one another. “But yes, to my hands and yours that can be detached and thrown at someone who annoys you. I am thankful they have gotten me this far and for meeting you.”

“Good, now make haste and finish that glass of wine. The night is still young, we have much to celebrate and I have a new blend for you to try. Might be too strong for a human, regardless, I want you to try it.” He sauntered out of his seat and towards his wine showcase where dozens of flasks sat, some still sealed for decades, leaving you appalled. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was the downside to using your talents. Becoming his new drinking buddy.

You scowled as he returned with a flask while showing off his strength to hold the bottle with his new hand. “I should have sent your hand instead of bringing it myself if I knew this was to be my fate.”

“I would have visit your chambers nonetheless.”

“One glass, Maedhros. Just one glass.”

“Of course. One glass as prescribed,” he grinned with the intention of finishing the entire flask tonight in one sitting with you.

Masterlist

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[the-daydreaming-show]

(I'm in love with the idea that) Maglor wandered Middle-earth so long that he became the last of the elves on the continent, refusing to die but unable to sail west, and one day he fainted on the beach. It is not the first time it has happened, and it will not be the last (?), whether due to lack of sleep, dehydration, hunger, or any of the torments that followed him. But when he gets up, he is not on the beach, he is in a cabin in the woods. He quickly deduces which woman of the race of men took pity on him and cared for him in his inconvenience.

Maglor wants nothing more than to return to his self-inflicted exile, to hate himself, and to be nothing more than a scrutiny of his own life, but he is very weak. The woman has placed heavy blankets over him, which are warm and comfortable, so before realizing it, he returns to unconsciousness. He feels from time to time that she feeds him liquid meals and takes care of his badly injured hand, whose pain is already chronic. Maglor doesn't know how long it took him to be able to get out of bed on his own, but it's been a while, and he's a gentleman at the end of the day. His mother raised him well despite all the mistakes he made by choice, but she taught him and his brothers how to treat a lady, regardless of her race.

Maglor helps the women tend to her gardens, makes sure her house is well taken care of while she works (in a job she doesn't talk about directly, is ambiguous about its specifications, and never really says what it is even though he directly asks a couple of times after several weeks of taking care of his voice at his request), and makes sure to be as helpful as possible. He doesn't plan to stay, he's simply staying to settle a debt that an innocent woman shouldn't have created with a relative killer like him. So he only wanted to free her from her presence as soon as possible once Maglor made up for the time she spent taking care of and the resources she used in taking care of him.

He doesn't leave. He stayed. The days pass. And although Maglor feels that his debt to her is paid, since his garden is more beautiful than ever, and he made sure that the house was in perfect condition, to the point that he has had to really look for things to do lately. He doesn't want to leave.

He married once, but she did not follow him to Beleriand. Still, despite the time, he recognizes the feeling that begins to brew in his fea and in his heart with every minute he spends with that woman. One day, when he helps her with the garden, they end up in a closer position than they should, their hands touching without gloves, and he almost loses his breath. There, he decided that he was leaving.

He loved her enough, his sweet human, who had gone out to help a fainted and desolate stranger on the beaches without expecting anything in return, to understand that if he didn't leave her now, he would never leave her. He couldn't allow his own condemnation to affect her. 

(Selfishly, Maglor also knew that he would not want to live beyond the day she joined death, which was the destiny of his race. And he did not believe he deserved the definitive end that was death, he was sure that the empty would not even be enough empty for him and his actions.)

The woman gently tries to convince him to stay, not too hard, as she seems resigned to the fate of him leaving, but she tries. Maeglo looks the same, smiling sadly at him, leaving the cabin behind with his harp on his back and heading towards where the sea should be.

But Maglor can't get to the beach. She can't even get out of the woods. He walks and walks, but three times he is taken back to the cabin, which remains intact but empty. He tries to the point of desperation, but he can't seem to get out. The last time he walks to the cabin, after days of trying to get out of the woods, the woman is waiting for him standing in front of the cabin, and she seems sad and embarrassed, but firm and ready for the conversation to come.

“What are you?” Maglor asks, straight to the point of the conversation, desperate to know what he had gotten himself into.

“I didn't want you to find out like this, I swear-”, the woman tries to explain with shame and desperateness to justify her lies.

“Answer me,” Maglor demands. The woman sighs shakily, but she finally answers.

“I have many names, in all languages ​​and for all races. But your people call me the Gift of Ilúvatar.”

Maglor could have fallen dead right there from fright and shock. Although he could potentially already be dead, he realized that the woman who had won her old and painful heart was nothing less than death itself.

He had fallen in love with the dead.

What does this mean?

How could this end for them?

Why did she lie to him?

Was he dead? Or was he kidnapped in some estrage way?

Did she follow the order of the Valar? Or Maybe of Eru himself?

Does she love him back?

That was really the only question he care about, as crazy as it may be.

[autumnshighlady]

Am I Making You Feel Sick?

Celegorm x reader

summary: Celegorm has taken things too far, and you're both pushed to the breaking point and things get heated

warnings: THIS IS NOT A HAPPY ENDING FIC! celegorm is an asshole and reader matches his energy, borderline emotional abuse

fic based off of the song Strangers by Ethel Cain

word count: 2.8k

request: you are such an amazing author, i am in awe of your writing! if you are accepting silm requests, can i request a celegorm x reader? we all know that this lil meow meow can be very rude and cruel, even to people he loves, especially when he's stressed :((( what if reader is his wife and lately tielko has barely paid her any attention, causing them to argument :(( and in the middle of the argument celegorm being celegorm gets impulsive and throws his wedding ring towards reader :(((( today i woke up and chose angst

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?” You snapped at Celegorm, patience wearing thin. Your husband was pacing back and forth, his fists clenched and his blue eyes dark. His long, pale blonde hair was unkempt, hanging loosely around his face. Normally, your husband took care in his appearance, weaving and braiding intricate jewellery into his locks. When you had first met Celegorm all those centuries ago in Valinor, he was always dressed immaculately, a playful smirk on his face and a mischievous light in his eyes.

But there was no sign of the elf you married before you. There was no light or kindness in his face as he scowled at the marble floor, muttering to himself in Quenya and ignoring you. “I do not think Finrod will appreciate you wearing holes in his floors,” you added. “So stop pacing and talk to me.”

“We cannot stay here,” was all Celegorm said sharply for the tenth time that evening. “I will not be indebted to my pathetic cousin who is content to let a mortal man pursue that which belongs to my father.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Too naive you were to think that Celegorm and Curufin’s peace and gratitude to their cousin for sheltering them would last. You had lost count of how many times you had been relocated. Your husband was prideful, his refusal to accept help and be seen as weak becoming your downfall.

“And where do you propose we go, exactly?” All patience you had left was gone, and you crossed your arms and stood in Celegorm’s path, halting his incessant pacing. “Morgoth broke the siege, the Pass of Aglon has been taken, we have nowhere else to go. We have to stay in Nargothrond until we regain our strength. We suffered a heavy loss, my love–”

Celegorm’s eyes narrowed. “You have lost nothing,” he hissed. “It is I who have suffered. You weren’t on the damn battlefield.”

His words cut you like a knife. Normally you could handle your husband’s angry moods, fits of rage that would blow over as quickly as they came. But lately they have been more and more frequent, each one leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Centuries of war and an endless quest had slowly chipped away at your husband like stonemasons on mountain rock. He had become a shell of the person he was when you fell in love with him, one that was harder to forgive with each argument.

“How DARE you?” You snapped, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze with equal fire. “You think I have not suffered amidst this ceaseless fighting? You think the constant war, the waiting on the edge of battle and having to pack up and move every decade has not had an effect on me? I may not be on the battlefield, but a piece of me is with you every time you go out there in that armour to try and get back some jewels. All because of that stupid oath.” 

To your fury, Celegorm merely rolled his eyes, turning away and striding over to the table by the bed in the guest room you were currently residing in. He grabbed the pitcher of wine, pouring yet another full glass and speaking with his back to you. “I will not have you whining about what you signed up for by marrying me,” he said dryly, taking a large swig from his goblet.

You scoffed, blood boiling. “Only you would call basic communication ‘whining’. I signed up for a marriage to the elf I loved. The elf who spent his days hunting and riding through the forest, who braided my hair in the morning and kissed me goodnight–”

Angrily, Celegorm slammed the goblet down onto the table, splattering droplets of red wine on the wooden table. They dripped down onto the pristine marble floor like blood from a wound. You flinched, stepping back as your husband stormed over to you. There was a mix of hurt and rage on his face as he grabbed your jaw in his hands, cupping your face. The gesture was anything but tender - it was possessive and dominant in a way that scared you. “Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?” He asked, voice trembling slightly.

Tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m saying that the elf I married and the one before me are not one in the same, and I do not recognize the latter.”

“That wasn’t an answer.” Celegorm said more sternly. “Yet it told me everything I needed to know.”

You shook your head, the grip your husband had on your jaw starting to ache. “Do not be like this. Do not make me your villain just because you want an enemy you can actually defeat and beat down.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are losing this war, Tyelkormo. And you are taking it out on me and shutting me out because I am a reminder of all your mistakes. I am the face of your guilt and that is causing you to pull away from me because you cannot come to terms with everything you’ve done.” Your throat was thick with sadness, stomach churning at having finally uttered your darkest thoughts out loud. Never in any of your previous fights did you lay the truth so raw for your husband, ripping apart his delusions of grandeur and forcing him to face his reality.

Celegorm’s eyes darkened. “Everything I have done? It has all been for you, to end this quest so we can finally settle down and have a life together.”

You grabbed his wrists gently. “Do not lie to yourself, husband. You cling even now to thoughts of your own glory, and you are blinded by your own ambition.”

Celegorm growled and ripped your hands off of his wrists, releasing your jaw harshly and turning away. As you rubbed your jaw, the son of Fëanor continued his pacing angrily. “I swore an oath to my father–”

“As you did to me!” You yelled, voice echoing throughout the large chamber. Done you were with trying to reason with your husband. His anger and pain had festered like a wound for years, transforming and morphing into a dark and twisted creature that sought only the satisfaction of vengeance.

Celegorm matched your rage, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why must you insist on my loyalty to one oath and my subversiveness to another?”

“Because one of those oaths is destroying you!” You crossed your arms in defiance.

“I cannot seem to figure out which one that is, as of late.”

You flinched as if Celegorm had struck you. The room felt still, as if any love between you two that was warming the space had been snuffed out. But your tears did not fall, to your surprise. Nor did you feel deeply wounded. You felt numb, as if those words he uttered had switched off all physical and emotional feelings. “If you feel our marriage is the oath that is ruining your life, then why are you still in it?” Was all you said, coldly.

Celegorm ran a hand through his ragged hair. “Why are you? If you feel shackled to this life then why stay with me?”

“Stop turning my questions around because you’re too much of a coward to answer them.”

He smouldered, that fiery rage inherited from his father blazing up within them. “I am no coward.”

“Yes, you are.” You let the words lash out of you, empathy gone. You wanted to hurt Celegorm, to make him feel a fraction of what you felt right now. “You are a coward who is too afraid of what others think. You are a coward who is too afraid to make the choice that you know deep down is right, a choice for which you refuse to make since it is easier to blame an oath you spoke in the fragility of youth all those centuries ago.”

Your husband angrily grabbed the table with the spilled wine, hurling it with all his might against the wall. The wood splintered and shattered with a loud crack, its broken pieces falling to the floor amidst the red liquid. “How dare you–” he began to yell but you cut him off angrily.

“Ah, yes, resorting to throwing things in a tantrum when I force you to see the truth,” you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “You really are your father’s son.”

Celegorm’s face went red, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “That is a compliment. My father was a great elf!”

“Your father was a fool,” you spat. “It was his arrogance, selfishness, and pride that got him killed, and I now see you will suffer the same fate.”

You did not stick around to hear your husband’s response as you brushed past him, slamming the door behind on your way out.

********************

The evening air felt good on your skin, the gentle water lapping at your feet. You sat on a flat rock by the edge of one of the cave’s pools, soft lantern light giving the area a yellow glow. It had been hours since your fight with Celegorm, and you had not crossed paths. You knew your husband would not be the first to apologise, not after everything you said. You were well aware that your words were hurtful, yet no guilt burdened your shoulders. It felt oddly freeing to finally explode like that, to throw words in his face instead of just being on the receiving end. 

Undoubtedly, Celegorm was sulking. Your husband’s temper was something you were always well aware of, and usually you were shielded from it. And for the last few decades, you had tried to understand his pain, to look at things from his perspective to justify his anger.

Yet now, you could not even do that. Celegorm’s madness had gone beyond your reach, the weight of his oath and actions dragging him down under the surface. You were no longer sure if you wanted to drown with him. A hundred years ago, you’d have walked through Angband for your husband. But now, you were tired of fighting. Tired of going to bed knowing that since you’ve been with him throughout this whole ordeal, you served as a walking reminder of the life he could no longer have. 

Celegorm would not be satisfied as Finrod’s guest for long, especially after the King allowed the human Beren to seek out a Silmaril with his blessing. You used to be able to predict how far Celegorm would go to get what he wanted, but now you were not so sure. Would he truly usurp his cousin in a mad scramble to gain control? You did not know.

Familiar footsteps sounded behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Celegorm was standing behind you.

“Am I no good? He spoke quieter this time, sadness replacing the anger in his voice from earlier. “Am I simply not good enough for you anymore?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, refusing to turn and face him. “It is not a question of being good enough for me, my love,” you said gently. “It is a question of being good enough for yourself, of being the male I know you can be. Your endless pursuit of the Silmarils has been at the detriment of me, your brothers, your soldiers, everyone. Yet you keep pushing as if we do not matter.”

“You don’t understand,” he continued, his voice echoing up the chamber of Nargothrond’s caves. “I have to do this. It matters more than anything.”

“More than me?”

A cruel laugh sounded from behind you. “Ah, so we come to it long last.”

You frowned, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up to face your husband. There was no sorrow in his eyes, his mood changing like a storm amidst the flowery spring fields. “What does that mean?” You asked through narrowed eyes.

“It means I always knew that one day you’d ask me to choose between you and the Silmarils,” he said heartlessly, his voice callous and devoid of love. “I’m surprised it took you this long, in perfect honesty.”

Anger churned in your gut. “You have forced my hand into doing so!” You snapped, voice rising. “Am I supposed to live forever in your shadow as a slave to your mindless choices? To never prioritise my own happiness or seek a life outside of war and quests?”

Celegorm gritted his teeth. “Again, you knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“But did you know how far it would go? How many losses you would suffer, how many battles you’d lose and how many fortresses would be taken? If you had, would you have married me?”

“I love you!” Celegorm insisted, his blue eyes wide and wild. “I have always loved you and wanted you by my side. It matters not what we face as long as we are together.”

“Do you not hear your own words?” You were yelling once again. “The horrors we have faced have been partially your own doing, you fool! We have been made refugees Eru knows how many times already, been rationing food and living in fear all because of a war you did not start but have certainly helped uphold with vigour!”

“Keep your voice down, many listening ears are turning our way.” Celegorm hissed, glancing around and the shadows of elves scurrying past you in the distance, no doubt wanting to get away from the yelling.

“Good, let them hear us,” you said sternly. “Now they’ll see you exactly as you are.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “And what is it, exactly, that I am, dear wife? A kinslayer? Murderer? Thief? I am many things but a liar is not one of them. I’ve always shown you exactly as I am, and you have accepted me until now. What has suddenly changed that entices you to hold this against me now?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “Because you have not seen the error of your ways and refuse to change! I had hoped that as time went on you would mend that broken part of yourself and start choosing the path out of this darkness, but lately you have been rejecting that choice at every turn.”

“Everything I have done has been for a reason! There has been no error of my ways, nor do I need to change! I am simply doing what I swore to do and should not be punished for ensuring I see it through! You have not seen what I have seen, and yet you judge me for my actions. You have not been my wife as of late but a burden I must carry around, one that I can never make happy.” Celegorm’s rage was almost animalistic, like a wounded lion lashing out with anger. “If I’m such a horrible male, then go find someone better.”

With his final words, he yanked off the sapphire wedding ring from his finger, throwing it into the pool. You exhaled in shock, something inside of you breaking as the small but steady stream swept the ring away, carrying it into the deep crevices of the rock never to be seen again.

With a deep sadness, you looked into his eyes. The anger had subsided, and they were now wide as if for the first time in the entire argument, he couldn’t believe his actions. It was like a candle inside of you had been snuffed out - no longer was a scrap of the elf you fell in love with residing within the one before you. The Celegorm you loved was truly gone, replaced by a dark, angry shell of who he once was.

“You’re pathetic,” was all you whispered in disgust as the shock on his face changed into desperation.

“Shit, wait,” Celegorm pleaded, grabbing your hand and trying to hold it within his own large ones. “I didn’t mean–”

“Yes, you did mean it.” You ripped your hand out of his grip before turning to leave. After a few steps, you paused, as if some final hope within you wanted him to follow.

But he didn’t.

You sighed, turning to face your lover for the last time. “Consider yourself freed from the burden of our marriage,” you said coldly. “I hope you get those Silmarils you seek so desperately, and when you finally hold them all you can think of is what it cost you. And as the blood on your hands from the kin you have slain stains their precious light, and all that you hold dear is gone and turned to ash, I pray that you think back on our courtship. I hope the image of me haunts your every waking moment; and not even Lórien himself can banish the ghost of my memory, even as it walks amidst your dreams. I hope the mere thought of me makes you feel sick until the end of time itself.”

[batsyforyou]

Maedhros Sleep Headcanons

Pariring: Maedhros x reader 

Warning: None 

Author’s Note: Blanket Series! Honestly I have discovered that my ability to write longer fics over short fics is crazy different. Short fics? Anxiety. Long fics? Long drawn out suffering. Headcanons? Perfection. 

If Light sleeper could embody a person this would be it. 

You flinched? He’s awake. You take a little deep breath? He’s awake. You turn on your side? He’s awake. 

Not that you can tell the difference with his open eyed death stare. 

Hypersensitivity Sleep fits him great

As mentioned before elves sleep with their eyes open so the creepy staring is 98/100

It’ll feel like someone’s burning holes in your back 

It's kinda like that awkward feeling characters will get in a one bed trope where they don’t hate each other. Pillow walls included. 

He honestly has the widest open eyed stare. Like he’s constantly on the lookout for danger. 

His eyes will remind you of a cartoon sometimes.

Especially if he’s had a bad day or worse a bad night

Honestly between his weight and height you have it hard most nights. 

Like if you wanted space or more important Mae wanted space it ain’t gonna happen chief. Why? As soon as he gets on the bed there is an automatic roll function. 

For you anyway. 

Were you comfortable? Nice and cozied up in the comforter? Not any more. 

Cue the pillow wall barrier 

Cuddles don’t exist here; cuddles happen once in a blue moon. 

He wouldn’t be able to sleep if you left him though so y’all share the same bed

Not that he sleeps anyway. 

PTSD also likes to chime in 

The poor thing 

If he sleeps he doesn’t sleep peacefully, nightmares are constant 

The only downside or upside? Is that if he gets a nightmare it's a deep sleep so he’s not waking up to you he’s waking up to screams and Melkor tickling his ear. 

Flight or fight gets in pretty often so the extra space between you and him isn’t just to annoy you

Also please don’t wake him up from a nightmare 

When he does cuddle though it's like the sunny day after a big rainstorm and you stepped into heaven

Will never lay on top of you, is too afraid to hurt you

Will freakout if you cuddle up to him as the big spoon

Don’t grip his hair at night either. PTSD overload on that one 

If he cuddles you he’ll do it in the daylight were he has zero chance of falling asleep and where he feels safe enough

He’ll either spoon you as the big spoon or let you lay on him and just gently pet your head and stroke your hair. 

Will give you a kiss to your temple and if he’s had a good day he might fall asleep like that 

Though I suggest you watch him carefully, no need to get punched in the gut by an 8ft elf

And speaking of him being 8ft he will have a major problem sleeping in a bed that isn’t exactly taylored to him 

Will be too long for an average bed 

So you sleep in a gigantic sized bed, your feet never reach the end

This elf has also seen the light of the Two Trees but don’t be afraid; he isn’t Glorfindel 

His hair and eyes glow very dimly because of *redacted* 

So it’ll be a coin flip for awe so cute or that's kinda creepy. If y’all have seen Stargate and watched the goa'uld light up their eyes it's kinda like that but waaaay less light. 

So the glowing eyes/hair paired with his wide, open death stare burning holes into you sometimes makes you uncomfortable. 

He doesn’t move when he sleeps not because he sleeps heavy but because he doesn’t want to take the chance of ruining your sleep

Overall this baby needs some serious therapy and is a 4/10 sleep buddy

Masterlist

[lamemaster]

Daughter-in-law of Feanorian Household (Maedhros x Reader)

Summary: a glimpse of how do your in-laws see your relationship with Maitimo.

genre: fluff

Some people are born to love, with the perfect recipe to find their other half. It's truly satisfying to witness their love. Even Tyelkormo, the gremlin of the Feanorian household, could see it. You and Nelyo were annoyingly good for each other. Every moment he witnessed you two together, he couldn't help but notice how beautifully the world shaped itself around you and his eldest brother.

Seated on the farthest couch, he observes as you follow Nelyo, trailing behind him with a befuddled look. Of course, his brother was late for court, again. "By Illuvatar!" Nelyo exclaims, one minute away from turning over the living room. "I swear I left my brooch here." The redhead is busy turning over the entire cabinet and you merely turn to wink at Tyelko, who remains mildly amused.

Tyelko watches as you walk to his mountain of a brother and gently turn him, whispering, "Here," as you open your fist with the brooch magically resting in it. "You forgot to take it off last night," you add as Nelyo returns to normal. Standing on your toes, you pull Nelyo closer, and for a moment, Tyelko wonders if he should leave, but he stops when you clip the brooch on Nelyo's cloak.

Tyelko can't help but witness the adoration in his brother's eyes, the soft look that melts with Laurelin's rays. For the next hour, he finds himself unable to move as he observes the subtle dance between you and Nelyo. It's as if you know his brother's needs better than Nelyo himself. His brooch, his papers, his quill, his satchel. Nelyafinwe's world revolves around you.

Nerdanel quickly figures out that her eldest is sulking, but the realization leaves her gawking at an unfinished statue. Maitimo doesn't notice the change in her expression, and thank Illuvatar for that! By some miracle, Nerdanel doesn't drop her chisel.

"I mean I've already looked over all the arrangements for the month. I've finished my court duties. Yet, I can't go," Maitimo drapes himself over the nearest chaise.

It's barely been two days since you left to visit your parents, a visit that is supposed to last a month. A month that Nerdanel suspects won't come to fruition if left to her eldest. "I barely have anything to do, amil," Maitimo whines. He's whining! Nerdanel finds herself with a 500-year-old elfling moping next to her, all because he misses you. He came to her to complain or maybe hear the words he really wanted - a suggestion to visit you.

Ai, Maitimo. Nerdanel resists the urge to coo at her son. Her son has always been the responsible one, and to watch him like this...Nerdanel can't help but find it endearing. Today, she won't give him the satisfaction of the answer he craves. For now, she wants to enjoy watching her son act petulantly.

Maybe tomorrow she would 'suggest' him to visit you.

The first time Maitimo brought Kano to meet you, he wore his best clothes. Kano, being a prince, had plenty of good tunics to choose from, so he carefully weighed the merits of each piece of clothing in his wardrobe the day before meeting you.

He had been excited to get an inside scoop on Maitimo's secret before any of his other brothers. Even his amil and atar had yet to find out.

But then, Makalaure met you in an unsuspecting garden, and a normal day turned into a life-changing event. He knew from the moment he met you that you were special to his brother and why.

You were kind and attentive, complimenting Kano on his tunic and listening intently to his compositions, praising every one of his songs. In Kano's eyes, you were the only one worthy of his brother.

Maitimo was all smiles, a contrast to his usual mid-day scowl. Kano noticed his brother's meticulously brushed and intricately braided hair, as well as the ruby hairpin holding your hair back. The lifted corners of his brother's mouth were enough indication that Maitimo was pleased. Immensely pleased must he add.

Even now, Kano can remember your shocked expression and Maitimo's flustered mumbling when he accidentally called you "nesa" at the end of your first meeting.

It didn't take long before you became Kano's nesa, his first sister-in-law, and the one he felt closest to.

[koyunsoncizeri]

A lil maedhros animation.

I...am also finally sharing a lil fic? Ficlet with Mae x Oc - angst and fluff. Under the cut!

I would be SO grateful if y'all would tell me what ya think :') !!! Especially my writing mutuals!! ♥️

Dove彡

"Don't go…" he softly whispered to the small figure lying next to him. "You don't have to go, little dove…"

She opened her eyes slowly. She'd been awake for sometime, she'd feigned sleep to feel his hand smooth over her hair, and caress her cheek, just to savor the warm feeling he radiated.

"I can't stay, elf lord." she said slowly. He glanced away when their eyes met. She smiled. There was something so innocent and childlike about this otherwise intimidating elf.

"Don't call me that…"he sighed, and turned to lie on his back. 

"I'm sorry…my lord." she grinned. He rolled his eyes but pulled her to his side. She pressed her body against his and rested her hand on his chest. 

"Why?" he asked after some time, but there was a defiance in his voice. He still saw this as an argument he could win…and convince her to stay. 

They'd met a week ago, when she asked for a sanctuary at their gates. It was apparent she was on the run for some time. He ordered them to open the gates and assist the human, which he later realized because she was tiny. The memory brought a smile to his lips and he turned his head to press a small kiss to her forehead. She opened her eyes, she was about to fall asleep in this elf's arms. She returned the loving gesture by kissing his neck, but a surprised gasp from him stopped her. Instead, she smiled gently at him, and assumed her former position.

"There is no life for me here,"she said. 

He fell silent.

He knew she was right, she would be better off living as far from him, and here as possible, and yet… he wanted her, selfishly, irresponsibly. He frowned, he felt bad to even entertain the idea; this was not like him at all.

"There can be," He chastised himself as soon as the words left his lips, what was he saying? How could he promise something like that, when he had naught to offer, not his affections, nor security.

"I'm sorry my lord…" She leaned to him on her elbows, his eyelids fluttered at the sudden proximity. He held his breath when she reached for him, placing her hand gently on his cheek. His lip was caught between his teeth and he fought so hard not to turn his eyes away from hers. She caressed his cheek, then her hand combed lightly through soft locks of his russet hair. He sighed softly, and closed his eyes. 

"I shall remember all that you have said, all that you have made me feel," she whispered, and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead, and he quickly opened his eyes. "I shall remember the quiet and kind laughter of yours and the soft touch of your hand."she kissed his cheek. "I shall cherish every moment you have kindly graced me with your presence, every glance you bestowed upon me." She cupped his face. "You shall forever remain in my heart, and I hope to be in yours at least for a while," she gently smiled, and wiped the tear that rolled down from his cheek when he tried to blink it away. She pressed her lips softly on his, and he welcomed her. He deepened the kiss as she let herself fall on her back and he followed her; covered her much smaller frame with his large one, trying to burn how good she felt under him into his memory. 

Next day came too soon, and with that last goodbye.

"Farewell, my little Dove. May winds always favor you."

[lovefairymina]

Celegorm: Women are easy to charm with good looks and big muscles. I even have a giant dog, so who can resist me?

Curufin: Oh yeah-- how about you try to charm that maiden over there? I heard she is the human chief's daughter, a talented painter, friends with animals but very hard-natured. I heard she even bit the next man that tried to become her suitor. *Pointing at you*

You: *Minding your own business and painting your mighty stag friend that stood before you in all his glory*

Celegorm: That's easy! Human women are especially easy to charm. They can't resist true beauty even when they might be stubborn about it. *Approaches you on his horse*

Celegorm: Greetings~ * Winks at you*

You: *Look at him with a frown*

Celegorm: Hello, what is your name?

You: Can…. I help you?

Celegorm: In fact you can -- Do you know the way?

You: To… where?

Celegorm: To your heart ~

You: *Stare at him*

Celegorm: *Grins and winks*

You: *Loudly pretentiously gag at him*

You: Okay the mood is ruined. Everyone go home! *Picking up your painting equipment*

Celegorm: Eh? *Shocked*

You: Aras, I see you later * Pointing at your stag friend*

Aras: *Nods and runs away into the forest*

You: *Staring at Celegorm* Bye! *You leave*

“You could have at least been a little more polite about your rejection,” voice dejected and body sagged as he stared at your retreating figure. Your lack of attention and care only fueled him to put on his best boots and apparel to impress you even better. “Game on princess! This hunter isn't giving up so easily.”

[silmawensgarden]

Only an ocean away

Maglor x reader

Prompt: Sending you a request for Maglor x reader where reader finally brings him home from his millenia of wanderings on the shore? (Home could be to Rivendell or Valinor or where you think would fir best!)

Requested by: anonymous

A/n: I really liked this idea of coaxing Maglor back home to Valinor through Rivendell. I decided on a chance encounter for reader & Maglor. I really hope you enjoy it and thanks so much for your request!

Word count : 1,8k

Warnings: none really

Today was a strange day, there was something in the air that felt heavy and familiar at the same time. Nevertheless you continued on your way back towards Rivendell. You had gone out for a few days to collect herbs in the nearby forest. The evil of Sauron had been subdued a small while ago. A small while for elves that is. The forest had once been filled with horrid creatures, nowadays surprisingly some incredibly rare herbs grew there. Despite some dangers from the remaining wild animals, the trek through was worth it. Your heart felt heavy at some point on your way back so you decided to change direction for a little while. Making your way towards the sea shore you finally felt yourself relax a little. It's been a while since you came here. The salty air reminded you of your home far away. Your home was in Valinor, not far from the shore. In your youth you used to come to the sea shore to play with your friends. The salty air made your heart yearn for those days with your friends.

You sat down by some rocks on the shore. The sand on this beach wasn't nearly as pearly white and gem like as in valinor, but it has it's own beauty. You've come to see Rivendell and it's surrounding environment as your second home. Out of nowhere a strange creaky sound came from behind you. Your breath hitched and you carefully turned around, ready to fight off whatever might be preying on you. However when you looked behind you, you saw nothing. You looked around with a confused look on your face. Then the sound came again. This time you saw something scuttle away into a cave. The last bit you managed to see was something that looked like torn clothes. Your curiosity got the better of you and you slowly moved towards where you had seen the muddy red cloth.

As you stepped forward behind the rock you sat on you saw a crude little cave hewn into the rock formation further back. It looked like something moved in there. It could be a child... you thought. In that case it might've been lost for some time judging by the poor condition of the piece of cloth you saw. You walked closer to the cave to inspect whether you were right. Just before you managed to get to the entrance an incredibly hoarse and creaky voice shrieked at you from inside. You could still manage to understand that it was likely a male, but nothing else. Taking up all your courage you stepped into the cave entrance and were met with a rusty dagger in front of your face. Behind the dagger sat what appeared to be a malnourished and traumatised elf. The elf had no strength left in him as even trying to keep the dagger pointed at you cost him so much energy that his arm was shaking uncontrollably. He had dark eyebags under his incredibly blue eyes and his features were sunken. You caught a few scars on his arms while you took in his appearance.

You wanted to get him out of the cave and maybe even manage to get him some help in Rivendell. Poor man has been through it it seems. You decided to sit down and see if he understood any language you knew.

You tried Sindarin first, he seemed to respond to it but did not speak it. Instead he spoke back to you in a mix of what you could only guess was first age Quenya. At this point you regrettably had to thank your tutors from when you were young for forcing you to sit through Quenyan literature classes. Seeing no other option besides attempting to speak to him in Quenya you gave it your best shot.

"Hello?...Not fear me, I am friend, not bad. Who are you?" You managed to wrangle out some poorly formulated sentences. The grammar would have sent your old tutor in to a shock induced coma if he had heard it. It appeared to be the same for this elf. The expression on his sunken face couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than displeasure. So much for trying to be nice...

However despite his initial displeasure he decided to attempt to speak to you. You were having an awful amount of trouble understanding him. Not just because he was barely audible but also because you had slept through most of your literature classes. He spoke with a specific dialect that you couldn't place. Seeing how much trouble you were having he gave you a small smile and started speaking to you like you were a small child. Word for word, to see if you understood.

Now you felt like it was you who had been hiding in that crude little excuse of a cave.

After a little while of throwing words around with each other he had calmed down enough to understand that you weren’t going to hurt him. Slowly he came out of his cave and stood in front of you. It was immediately clear to you that this elf was much taller than you. By quite a considerable amount. It was a mystery to you how he managed to fit into that tiny space.

The two of you made your way back to Rivendell together. Walking slowly and taking many breaks as it appeared that your new companion could not walk very far for very long periods of time. He was so malnourished that his legs gave out frequently during the journey back.  During the journey you got to know each other better. The language barrier was still a big problem but you found creative ways to communicate with each other regardless.

After a full two and a half days of walking you finally arrived in Rivendell. You now also knew the name of your companion. Maglor. Maglor Fëanorion. It was surprising to say the least. But you dwelled little on the matter. By the looks of it, Maglor had already been through sufficient punishment. No need to lay any more on him. The healers rushed to take him to the infirmary so he could rest and gain some of his strength back. You promised him that you would visit in a few days once he is a little more stable.

A few days have passed and both you and Elrond have visited Maglor a few times. There’s been a rumor floating around Rivendell that Elrond could be related to the elf that was brought to the healers at the start of the week. You wanted to ask Maglor about it but weren’t sure if he’d tell you anything.

Things started to quiet down again as the weeks went by. Weeks turned into a few months and something started to grow between you and Maglor. At first it appeared to be a deep friendship but now it feels like it may one day be more. Only time will tell whether something could be between you.

Maglor was starting to make a speedy recovery now that a few months have passed. He no longer looked malnourished and could walk for a considerable amount of time again. His hair had grown fuller too. It pained you to remember how matted and gross it had looked when you first saw him.

However as time passes and seasons change so do our wishes. Your soul wanted to go home. So it became clear to you and a handful of others that you would be boarding the next available ship at the grey havens. You had talked this over with Elrond and a few of your other friends, one of which was Maglor.

He felt sad about your upcoming departure be he refused to let it show.

And so the day of your departure finally arrived.

It was early in the morning, the sun has just barely come out of hiding. You stood still on the docks, taking in middle earth for what would likely be the last time. You wanted to go home, but a tiny part of you was having trouble letting go. Maglor had promised to meet you before you left. The majority of elves had boarded the ship already, you were the only one stalling the departure. Finally you saw a figure in the distance that appeared to be Maglor. He ran towards you, pushing through the crowd of people to get to you as best as he could.

“I am sorry for making you wait y/n! I tried to come here as fast as I could. I overestimated my ability to run….I am unable to run as much as I once could.” He said, smiling sheepishly.  

You smiled back and stepped a little closer to him. “It is fine, do not worry. We still have time before the boat leaves.”

Despite Maglor smiling warmly at you he was being torn apart internally. One part of him wished desperately to come with you, but a voice in his head told him he wasn’t worthy of returning to valinor and that he should forever remain in isolation.  “I am not certain that I can go with you Y/n….I…I must remain here in Arda.”

You were saddened by his words but decided not to push him. After all it wouldn’t be the last boat to leave for valinor.  “Maglor, no matter what or where if you decide to leave to valinor one day, know that I’ll only ever be an ocean away.” You smiled the best smile you could muster. It was in this moment that you came to the realization that you loved him. Yet you now would never get the chance to say it. It was now truly time for the ship to sail out towards valinor. There was no way that you could stall it any further. You said your goodbyes and boarded the ship. A coldness came over your heart and a tear slipped from your eye.

Maglor watched as the ship sailed out, boring holes into your back with his gaze. And then right at the least expected moment something took hold of his senses and he threw himself into the sea. The coldness of the sea forced him to swim forward as he called out to you. The elves on the boat saw him struggling to swim and threw out a fishing net to catch him up onto the boat.

He was drenched to the bone and shivering, but his smile was warmer than the sun on a summer afternoon.

He didn’t care anymore about people’s judgements and what the valar would say of his return. All he ever needed was you, and now that he had you…nothing else mattered.

[doodle-pops]

Meeting and Befriending Vampire Reader

A/N: Felt like writing something different for a change. Possibly my start of dipping my toes in the supernatural AU?? And I blame @animatorweirdo, in a good way, for feeding me with their creativity when it comes to their supernatural content *le chef kiss* 🤌

Warnings: (it’s all lightly described) blood-drinking, mentions of being experimented on, lots of comfort, being rescued, happy endings for everyone, platonic relationships

➷ ⋆Feanor

➳❥ So, hypothetically speaking, Feanor does not die the minute he sets foot into Middle Earth and survives all the way through to meet you; an escapee from Angband during the first attack he launched. You stumbled your way a good distance from them, however, seeing that they were newly settling down, you blended in.

➳❥ Having dwelt among them for some time and forcing yourself to suffer cruel punishments of changing your appetite to not be caught and persecuted, you managed to become one of the local elves for years. Chatting and conversing with everyone and working as a healer during the night shifts only (because blood was easier to consume that way).

➳❥ How Feanor stumbled upon you, well it all started with you and Feanor becoming friends from all his late–night trips to the healing wing whenever he injured himself. It developed into a friendship, as he would only demand you treat his wounds. Plus, you never appeared bored or irritated when he prattled your head off about inventing things to blow other things up or reinventing.

➳❥ Somewhere along the lines, conversations always sparked each other’s interest, since he became persistent on spending more time with you due to your knowledge and peculiarities, mostly during the day since he worked at night. Of course, you reject his offer even though you could offer an evening/night session, but preferred the simple friendship you two already had without getting into each other’s personal space.

➳❥ Through constant rejection, which doesn’t sit well with Feanor’s pride, one day he decides to seek you out. Directly heading for the healing wing and learning of the location, he sets out to your house to demand an honest answer, only to discover once he arrives, your house is locked up like a prison cell.

➳❥ Knocking does nothing to bring him a response and your neighbours can’t deliver a suitable response because they never see you during the day, only at night. This doesn’t sit well with Feanor and being the adamant individual he was, he chose to sit guard outside your house until you either came out or showed up.

➳❥ You, on the other hand, were aware of his presence outside your house. It placed you in a dilemma, unsure of whether to walk out and confront him or spend another day indoors, surely he’ll grow tired and defeated. The furthest option he took was begging to at least speak with you to know where your relationship with him sat.

➳❥ Hearing his sorrowful plead, guilt eating at you, there was a split moment where you hesitated before cracking the door open to welcome him in. It was approaching daylight since he waited all night. The minute he entered your house and saw the pitch–black condition, he knew something was wrong with you.

➳❥ A sharp Kingly tone would be spat out, which would make you curl in at the disappointment you were setting yourself up for. At the time, there wasn’t anything suitable enough to spare you from his frustration. So, a quick mumble of you begging him to listen to your story and not judge you would be exchanged.

➳❥ The moment you revealed the truth, you could see his face through the darkness and how his eyes widened as he placed multiple scenarios together to believe you. Feanor doesn’t know how to respond because you never had intentions to hurt him, yet your truth was kept hidden when the enemy was looming about.

➳❥ Millions of questions would realistically fly off the handle wanting to know if you were working for the Dark Lord, and he sent you to spy on him. Of course, not appreciating the comparison to your enemy, you angrily put his claims down, explaining that you were one of the first elves who were hunted and experimented on. His war with the Dark Lord bought you freedom.

➳❥ Feanor doesn’t know where his relationship with you now stands with this new piece of information, however, he makes the most of it by keeping you under lock and key (not literally). He wants to know everything you know and it’s how you prove yourself trustworthy in his eyes when your information aids him in winning another war.

➳❥ Because of your supernatural abilities, he’s baffled by your strength, speed and agility. Heck, he doesn’t need to go through the stress of bending iron when you exist. You are still a part of his Kingdom, and he allows you to continue living as you do but ensure not to kill or harm anyone.

➳❥ He was very grossed out about your blood consumption to survive, yet he was curious to understand how it worked in sustaining your mobility and essence. There were moments he tried experimenting to create other alternatives for you to consume, let’s say it didn’t work.

➳❥ Because there were minimal differences between elf and vampire (minus sunlight and food; and Feanor did make a daylight ring) he was able to overcome the boundaries and maintain a healthy relationship. So long as you didn’t pose as a threat, all was well between you and Feanor.

➷ ⋆Fingolfin

➳❥ Meeting you for the first time would be entirely accidental, perhaps on a walk through the forest to clear his head when he stumbled upon your absolutely still figure, perched on a tree branch.

➳❥ Because there’s no one else in the forest and no settlement for miles, furthermore, given your attire, you must have been from the same Kingdom or his son’s, he would still make his presence known to you before continuing his walk because it was a polite thing to do.

➳❥ It’s when you turn to acknowledge the male figure introducing himself and calling out to you, that he catches a glimpse of your unusual eye colour and stills. You’re aware that he’s aware you’re different from other elves.

➳❥ Fingolfin would have easily picked up on your fëa and hrӧa differing from an elf and would immediately inquire about your identity since he considers you trespassing. His approach would be commanding, using his Kingly aura to have you submit and give in to his wishes.

➳❥ But since you’re not the same as the others who use their abilities for harmful intentions, you’d roll your eyes and casually reveal your name and where you were from before turning around to continue your staring off into God knows where.

➳❥ Not pleased with your curt answer, despite giving him the information he demanded to know, he’d attempt to encroach your tranquillity with more questions on what creature you were.

➳❥ That’s where things take a turn because you’re aware of vampires being destructive and evil forces of nature, so you’re hesitant and cautious the moment you reveal your true nature. However, it’s your lack of aggression and awareness to his astonishment that urges him to continue prodding.

➳❥ You were tempted to snap at his intrusiveness, yet still, you didn’t, keeping in mind that your kind was already a plague to elves. So you needed to keep a level–head for as long as you could before being on your merry way. Unfortunately for you, Fingolfin wasn’t allowing you to disappear anytime soon; not when questions existed.

➳❥ “How are you not evil? Are you evil? Have you ever been? Were you created by the Dark Lord? What do you know of him? Have you come to spy?” His questions to you were generic which gave eye rolls at every one directed at you.

➳❥ Long story short, Fingolfin and you got off on a semi–tranquil and annoying meet but were eventually able to smooth things over after he asked you a million questions and you answered every one as nonchalantly as possible.

➳❥ He keeps you a secret from the rest of the world; your existence is kept by him alone. Through you, he learns secrets about the world he had yet to discover and values your insight on deep philosophical topics. Long, late–night conversations from twilight to daybreak.

➳❥ There are rare days when you would randomly appear on the balcony of his office, mostly during the night, to spend time chatting. He learnt that it was a myth that vampires burnt in sunlight, it was just that you were irritated by it and also didn’t wish to be seen during daylight with your features.

➳❥ What blossomed between you two was an unusual friendship. In the beginning, he was sceptical about having you around more frequently and roaming his lands since you fed off blood—you never gave him details about your hunting activities; however, you reassured him no people were harmed or killed.

➳❥ Sometimes, you provide him assistance given your dislike for the Dark Lord by slipping in and out the cracks of his fortress unseen to spy. He forever warns you about being cautious because he fears that one day, you might never return.

➳❥ You do enjoy scaring the life out of him whenever he steps into the forest in search of your location. Popping out from behind trees or walking behind him the entire time and pretending to be the wind.

➳❥ He once saw you angry and regretted the first time you met because of what could have possibly happened to him.

➷ ⋆Finarfin

➳❥ First time trip to Middle Earth and he came across you during the raiding of Angband. You were trapped in the prison cells in the depths of the mountain along with other foul creatures. To Finarfin’s surprise, he was confused as to why would a normal–looking elf be stuck alongside all those dangerous creatures.

➳❥ Nevertheless, he retrieved and returned you back to his encampment where you were being treated for your wounds. However, due to your lack of hunger and being surrounded by literal food, the healer doesn’t get the chance to properly assess your injuries, because you lunged at one of them for dinner.

➳❥ With the uproar, Finarfin is summoned to the tent where blood is spilt everywhere and a rampant you is being restrained by his best men. However, pity played a great part in his heart when he looked upon your face and saw tears streaming from your eyes. His first thought was literally, “Why would you shed tears for your wrong?”

➳❥ Still cautious of your activities, he’d have you secured aside from everyone and closer to his tent for observations even though his men advised against the idea, wanting to exterminate you immediately. But Finarfin was someone who preferred to be the judge of his own actions.

➳❥ The minute he visited you after your re–captivity, he felt a twinge of sympathy for putting you into chains after you recently came out of them. At first, you were uncooperative due to having a lack of blood in your system, and since he didn’t have any lying about or was going to offer his or his people, he gave orders to the hunters to save the animal blood and deliver it to his tent.

➳❥ You were fussy because the blood of people was tastier than animals, but it was still worth a shot because you were hungry as hell after being chained up and experimented on for years. After stomaching the repulsive blood, you were able to talk, and he learned of how you were once an elf taken from your home and turned into a vampire.

➳❥ The experiments weren’t a complete success since you couldn’t take sunlight, fly or transform. You were able to stay in your elven form while having the basic traits of a vampire. This Finarfin pitied and felt the need to protect and keep you safe.

➳❥ Promising that he would look after you if you promised to control yourself, he had taken you to Valinor and placed you within the Valar care to see how much they could undo the mad scientist’s experimentation. Unfortunately, you were permanently stuck that way until the end of time.

➳❥ Because you had Finarfin at your side who genuinely cared for your existence, he became a familiar face in your life during your healing and learning to control your thirst sessions. You accidentally messed up a few times and attacked because 1) you were being pushed too far, and 2) he had smelt too good.

➳❥ During that moment, it caused a dramatic change in your relationship. Finarfin was slightly terrified when he realised that he was entirely powerless against your strength, even when weakened and found the idea of you feeding from him exhilarating.

➳❥ He didn’t know how to approach you with the latter when he was slightly terrified of your strength and unsure about whether or not he could pull you off him should you be unable to stop. Even so, you had distanced yourself from him after the incident, ashamed of your actions.

➳❥ With some convincing, the best solution was to have you break into the habit of sampling his blood indirectly from the vein, meaning, in a glass. He was amazed at how easily you just drank his blood without a hint of disgust. This would continue over a duration while you consumed animal blood to get a grip on your control. (I’d write about you feeding from the source, but another time maybe).

➳❥ During these moments your friendship with him is built. Late–night conversations, walking through the forest, having midnight picnics under the stars and laughing away. They all assisted with your nerves on how you believed he perceived you.

➳❥ It does sadden him that you could only be out at night, not able to experience all the beauty at came with daylight and you also never be able to see the sun as you were one of the elves stolen before the Great Journey.

➳❥ He would spend all his time describing to you what daylight and sun felt and appeared like, all the birds and flowers, the ocean as it glittered during the sunrise and sunset. All the while he did this, he would consult with one of the Valar, preferably Varda and Aüle to forge a ring you can wear to shield you from the sunlight.

➳❥ During one of your nightly meet–ups, while you’re excitedly informing him about your progress and ability to be around other people without harming them due to the consumption of his blood, he surprises you with the ring.

➳❥ That would be the first time you had ever seen the sun and daylight since your existence. His standards had set him apart from other people you had met along the way, causing him to hold a special place in your heart; for now, you were able to no longer be apart from him whenever he had to separate for his duties. You could follow him anywhere in the world.

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @lamemaster @stormchaser819

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Lovely M! Your requests are open! So I was wondering if you would mind writing a lil something for my favourite wolf boi (or Celegorm!) With the prompt "jousting"

I'm feeling something comedic, but I'm ultimately leaving the vibe up to you

As always, you're welcome to make it lemon-y sour if you would like, preferably fem!reader, and maybe set in the normal time frame or thereabouts

Thanks in advance if you decide to write this! <3

Right. Since you prefer the normal time frame, how about Celegorm learning to joust somewhere in Middle-Earth?

This won’t be smut, but I’ve added some NSFW elements all the same.

“Little game”

Pairing: Celegorm x Fem. Reader (Mortal | second person POV) | Location: Middle-Earth / Himlad | Prompt: Joust

Themes : Soft | NSFW

Warnings : Kissing | Teasing | Innuendo | Use of a weapon (Lance)

Word count: 1.2k words

Summary: Celegorm is frustrated after not having mastered the lance quickly enough.  

Minors DNI | 18+ | You are responsible for the media you consume.

"My lord! That is not how you couch a lance!"

Celegorm closed his eyes and groaned in frustration. Here he was, a son of Fëanor, a student of none other than the great hunter Oromë himself, failing to wield what was, to all intents and purposes, a heavy stick with a blunted end.

"This is cumbersome!" He complained, "and wholly unsuitable! I insist you hand me my sword immediately!"

"No." You took your time walking to the end of the sparring field, where a straw target was already mounted onto a pivot. "You wanted to learn, my lord. Now learn. Come now," you said, tugging at the straps, the shield, and the leather war-hammer stuffed with tufts of wool. "Surely you, a son of Fëanor, are not admitting defeat."

Celegorm narrowed his eyes, the tips of his ears flushing red and twitching in anger. "Hold your tongue, woman."

"Hold it?" Wicked humor fills your eyes. "What a shame, for I thought you dearly loved it when I swirled my tongue around the tip of yo…"

"Enough!" Red-cheeked, embarrassed, and more than a little inflamed, Celegorm gave you a cheeky grin. "Enough. Very well. Teach me how to couch this wretched thing." 

You helped him with his grip and the angle of his aim. "Lean forward in your saddle," you counseled. "It will help with your balance. Keep your eye on the target. Extend your arm fully just before striking. The speed of your horse will do the rest."

Celegorm listened and took your advice to heart. He held the lance firmly, tucking it under his arm for support. You backed away when he dug his heels into his horse, and it broke into a gallop, racing towards the straw target with all the speed it could muster, its hooves tearing up the grassy earth beneath it. Celegorm waited until the right time, just as he was told. He extended his arm and released, just as he was told. The blunted end struck the shield square in the center. Celegorm hooted in triumph, then howled in agony when the target spun like a top and the stuffed war-hammer struck him square on the back. You ran to him as soon as it happened, alarm coursing through your body. 

"My lord!" You cried. "My lord, are you hurt?"

"Just my blasted pride," Celegorm answers quickly, ridding himself of the lance. It fell to the earth with a soft thud. "Tell me. How old are mortal children when they acquire skill with this weapon?"

"Ten and six for most, my lord," you replied, pausing. "If they are strong enough to wield it." 

"Ten and six." Celegorm sputtered in disbelief. "Eru save me. And how old were you?"

"The same age or thereabouts. Some are deadly with the lance by the time they reach that age."

"Deadly with it." Celegorm stammered again, ashamed that an elf should struggle to master a weapon. "If my brothers learn of this, I will not hear the end of their teasing."

"All the more reason for you to practice," you reply. You had heard of Celegorm's brothers and how they competed against each other. You felt for him. "But enough for today. We will start again tomorrow."

Celegorm dismounted and walked with you back to the tower house he had come to call home, to the chambers that gave him some peace. Once safely ensconced in his bedroom, you helped him undress.

"You said you were unhurt!" you exclaimed. An angry bruise had formed, just beneath his shoulder blades. "Pray give me a moment. I have a balm for it."

"No." Celegorm crawled onto his featherbed, biting back a helpless whimper. "Leave it be for now. Come, lay beside me a little."

The world outside changed and darkened. Golden light gave way to the dark, the animals of the night, and the full moon. Torches came to life, their light chasing away the gloom. A dog barked just beneath the open window. Someone shouted orders. 

Celgorm was silent, brooding over his failure. You propped yourself on your elbow. "How are you, truly?"

He turned to face you, his rich blue eyes half-hidden in shadow.

"Ashamed," he confessed. "I am an elf, one who was born in Valinor, and a prince of the Noldor besides. And yet I struggle to master a weapon." 

"This was only your third day, my lord." You reached out and brushed stray locks of golden hair out of his eyes. "There is no shame in not mastering a skill so soon."

"Yes, but mortal children do. By the time they are ten and six!"

"Because our world is more dangerous, we have no other choice. Do not fret, my lord. You will be unhorsing the best of them before long."

The games, or jousts, as the Edain called it were something they devised to train and prepare hopeful warriors. Celegorm had heard of it, after establishing a lordship for himself in Himlad. Those from amongst the Edain would ride against each other, seeking honor, gold, and glory, companions to shower them with all manner of favors. He was told the next games would be held on another turn of the moon. There was still enough time for him to learn. Celegorm grew more hopeful. 

"Yes," he decided. "I will be ready then. Now, what shall we do to pass the time?"

You wrinkle your brow. "Read, perhaps? Shall I call for some candles?"

"No." Celegorm sat up, shaking his head, and said, "No. I am not in the mood to read."

"No books?" you said, tilting your head to the side and smiling slowly. "How about a game of dice, then? It is all the fashion now."

"As my brother Curufin would tell you," Celegorm said gravely, "I should be allowed nowhere near a game of dice. Or any game of chance, for that matter." 

You smiled and sat up straight. This was all just part of a little game that both of you played every night without fail. Celegorm would fuss, you would offer other amusements, and Celegorm would fuss again. The game inevitably ended in fits of laughter and passionate embraces. 

"Hmmm." You narrowed your eyes in mock concentration. "No books and no games of chance. How about some music, then?" 

Celegorm's eyes blazed then. "Oh yes. I know just the music I want to hear now, and only you can provide it."

The true meaning of what he said was not lost on you. You made yourself look sober and grave, and replied thus: "You commanded me to hold my tongue, my lord, and I am not one to ignore such commands. Because of this, you will have no music from me."

Celegorm clapped his hand over his heart. "Oh!" He lamented. "Would you forgive me for my careless command, sweet y/n? How can I atone for it? Should I plead? Go to my knees? Abase myself like a lowly creature before my wounded love?" 

It was hard to remain stern after his little display. You laughed, in small burps at first, before breaking into fits of it. 

"You, my lord, are impossible." You leaned forward and kissed him. Celegorm slid his arms around you, his sweet breath leaving you dizzy and weak. "But I am glad you are mine."

"As I am glad you are mine," Celegorm laid back down, taking you with him. "Now come, loosen that beautiful tongue for me."

[venerable-sun]

New Fic Announcement

The prologue and first chapter of my new Maglor reader insert, Sacred Vows, is now up on AO3. I've been working on this one for quite a while and am very proud of it, so it would mean a lot for y'all to go give it a read!

Here's a snippet of the first chapter:

“May I join you, my lady? This seat does not look taken.” 

The elf is seated before he even finishes speaking, and when your eyes snap up to meet him you cannot help the flinch that it pulls from you. 

A dark eyebrow lifts smoothly. This is the closest you have ever been to an elf, and amidst fighting the equal urge to both lunge at him across the table or turn tail and run, you find that the tales of otherworldly elven beauty do not do him justice at all. He is beautiful, that much is certain, but in the flickering candlelight of the cavern it seems to as if there is an edge to that beauty, as if it is tinged with a darkness that one who has seen too much suffering from too young an age carries with them, a darkness colored with regret. It looks a bit like your own.

“Why do you fear me?” He asks. You cringe, glad that your scarf is hiding the majority of your face. You have never been good at masking your emotions, a trait that often got you into quite a lot of trouble with your father. 

“I do not fear you. I do not trust you or your kind.”

He hums, long fingers coming to rest underneath his chin. Musician’s hands, you think idly to yourself. He really is lovely, the elf in front of you. Long, black hair pulled away from his face in intricate braids and clean, fresh robes that whisper wealth. Dark eyes framed by darker eyelashes, skin smooth and umarred- so unlike your own appearance in every way.

He is studying you the same way you are studying him, and you struggle not to shift nervously under his scrutiny. You finger the edge of your scarf where it drapes heavily over your shoulder, making sure the bottom half of your face is still securely hidden. The elf tracks the movement, and you are filled with the sudden urge to plant the hilt of your dagger firmly between the perfect space between his eyes. A deep breath through the nose calms you, washes away the acrid tang of smoke that haunts your mind for a moment. 

“My name is Maglor.”

You nod in acknowledgement, tell him the new name you gave yourself in this town. 

“Your skill with a blade is most impressive.” 

You scoff. “You saw me throw a dagger, t’is all.”

Maglor leans forward keenly. “That’s not all. I know of your skill through the hold in your shoulders, the flit of your hands. And-” He nods to your boot, where a second dagger is hidden. “And your preparedness.”

You swallow dryly, reaching for your glass of wine even though it is empty. “What else can you tell?”

You don’t realize how far you have leaned in towards him until you feel the warm whisper of his breath against your lips even through the fabric of your scarf. “I can tell that you are alone here.” 

[batsyforyou]

Celegorm/Curufin/Celebrimbor/Feanor Sleep Headcanons

Pairing: Celegorm x reader, Curufin x reader, Celebrimbor x reader, Feanor x reader

Author’s Note: Blanket Series! 

The one thing that these four elves have in common is the amount of work they put in. 

They either go to bed late 

Or never

What's worse is that they all have the same family stare when they sleep. 

Each of their eyes glow and they stare straight ahead, kinda like the goa'uld with their glowing eyes but instead of the white of their eyes glowing, it's the iris.

Feanor passed it to Celegorm, and Feanor also passed it to Curufin who then passed it to Celebrimbor 

It's a family trait 

But between the four of them Celegorm and Celebrimbor are the most likely and willing to cuddle you and kiss you at night.

Between Celegorm and Celebrimbor though, Celebrimbor is way more romantic 

Verses Curufin and Feanor who kiss their forges goodnight and put it to bed before they ever see you

Though Celegorm is the first to go to bed out of all of them

Celegorm

Probably the easiest Feanorian to corral into bed 

If he’s busy at his desk and if you ask him to come to bed he’ll give you a half hearted wave and tell you to go to bed. But if you kiss his cheek and use the magic word (please) he’ll come join you. 

And I don’t want to give you the impression that he doesn’t care for his work and doesn’t take it seriously. He takes it very seriously. But he takes care of your happiness first. 

He’ll wrap himself around you and bury you in his arms and smooch you til his heart's content. 

Sometimes he’ll try to see if you're willing for more but most of the time he’ll leave his shenanigans for morning. 

He snores very softly and you normally don't hear it 

And because he so active during the day he doesn’t move at night 

And like I mentioned before he’s got his daddy’s stare 

Though his open eyed stare is bright. His eyes are like two active search lights from Gotham City (Batman) just piercing the dark. That or two up close nightlights. 

Overall Celegorm is an 7/10 sleep buddy

Curufin

Getting this one into bed is a fight in itself. 

He would come with you unless you’ve begged for like 30 minutes

Curufin is another elf that doesn’t know how to cuddle. He thinks you take up too much bed space but unlike Maeglin he has no problem telling you about it.

“Move over, your elbow is on my side.” 

He doesn’t really learn 

So the only way to get this one to cuddle is if you lay on top of him and press your nose into the crook of his neck. 

He just melts when you do and the silver tongue is to put to rest

He dreams pretty frequently. But it's sometimes like watching a cat dream he’ll just twitch every once and a while 

He doesn’t move and roll around and sleeps on his back 

And he never snores not once but on the few times he does the snore is really cute and you never let him live it down. 

Overall Curufin us a 7/10 sleep buddy

Celebrimbor 

Celebrimor is someone who loves to savor your touch 

He loves holding you close to him and burying his head into the crook of your neck to just breathe you in

He lives to hold you 

He lives to kiss you especially. 

And he will kiss your nose every night before bed and every morning when you wake up 

Is addicted to cuddles but is sometimes embarrassed about craving your soft touch.

So he won’t really tell you that he wants any. Instead he’ll invite you to him so it’ll come off as more of an offer and your idea then his.

When he’s really fixated on what he’s doing you have to drag him away from either the forges or his desk. 

When you're not around he can and will and has slept on his desk atop of his papers.

When in bed though he typically sleeps on his back with you using his arm as a pillow 

But he’s would love to sleep with you on his back while he slept on his stomach

It’d knock him right out 

Overall Celebrimbor is a 9/10 sleep buddy

Feanor

Huh? 

Who? 

Where? 

Good luck reigning this one in, he’s a nightmare to settle into bed

Feanor another one that doesn’t understand the definition of rest. He practically lives in the forges so you’ll have to find a way to persuade him to go to bed. Idk how but good luck soldier 

But ah *coughs* I’ll stay that acts of intimacy go a long way *cough cough*

When he does sleep, he sleeps on his side. He stares straight ahead with glowing eyes. His eyes glow the brightest out of the four but instead of it being a glow it's more a gentle lapping flame that flickers every once and a while.

Cuddles? If you're lucky. He’s mostly staring up at the ceiling thinking about all the cool projects that he could get up to. 

Mostly because it's like you're sleeping with a literal heater and he doesn’t want to sweat at night.

Overall Feanor is a 6/10 sleep buddy

Masterlist

[perplecta]

eu vou me m

(I'm in love with the idea that) Maglor wandered Middle-earth so long that he became the last of the elves on the continent, refusing to die but unable to sail west, and one day he fainted on the beach. It is not the first time it has happened, and it will not be the last (?), whether due to lack of sleep, dehydration, hunger, or any of the torments that followed him. But when he gets up, he is not on the beach, he is in a cabin in the woods. He quickly deduces which woman of the race of men took pity on him and cared for him in his inconvenience.

Maglor wants nothing more than to return to his self-inflicted exile, to hate himself, and to be nothing more than a scrutiny of his own life, but he is very weak. The woman has placed heavy blankets over him, which are warm and comfortable, so before realizing it, he returns to unconsciousness. He feels from time to time that she feeds him liquid meals and takes care of his badly injured hand, whose pain is already chronic. Maglor doesn't know how long it took him to be able to get out of bed on his own, but it's been a while, and he's a gentleman at the end of the day. His mother raised him well despite all the mistakes he made by choice, but she taught him and his brothers how to treat a lady, regardless of her race.

Maglor helps the women tend to her gardens, makes sure her house is well taken care of while she works (in a job she doesn't talk about directly, is ambiguous about its specifications, and never really says what it is even though he directly asks a couple of times after several weeks of taking care of his voice at his request), and makes sure to be as helpful as possible. He doesn't plan to stay, he's simply staying to settle a debt that an innocent woman shouldn't have created with a relative killer like him. So he only wanted to free her from her presence as soon as possible once Maglor made up for the time she spent taking care of and the resources she used in taking care of him.

He doesn't leave. He stayed. The days pass. And although Maglor feels that his debt to her is paid, since his garden is more beautiful than ever, and he made sure that the house was in perfect condition, to the point that he has had to really look for things to do lately. He doesn't want to leave.

He married once, but she did not follow him to Beleriand. Still, despite the time, he recognizes the feeling that begins to brew in his fea and in his heart with every minute he spends with that woman. One day, when he helps her with the garden, they end up in a closer position than they should, their hands touching without gloves, and he almost loses his breath. There, he decided that he was leaving.

He loved her enough, his sweet human, who had gone out to help a fainted and desolate stranger on the beaches without expecting anything in return, to understand that if he didn't leave her now, he would never leave her. He couldn't allow his own condemnation to affect her. 

(Selfishly, Maglor also knew that he would not want to live beyond the day she joined death, which was the destiny of his race. And he did not believe he deserved the definitive end that was death, he was sure that the empty would not even be enough empty for him and his actions.)

The woman gently tries to convince him to stay, not too hard, as she seems resigned to the fate of him leaving, but she tries. Maeglo looks the same, smiling sadly at him, leaving the cabin behind with his harp on his back and heading towards where the sea should be.

But Maglor can't get to the beach. She can't even get out of the woods. He walks and walks, but three times he is taken back to the cabin, which remains intact but empty. He tries to the point of desperation, but he can't seem to get out. The last time he walks to the cabin, after days of trying to get out of the woods, the woman is waiting for him standing in front of the cabin, and she seems sad and embarrassed, but firm and ready for the conversation to come.

“What are you?” Maglor asks, straight to the point of the conversation, desperate to know what he had gotten himself into.

“I didn't want you to find out like this, I swear-”, the woman tries to explain with shame and desperateness to justify her lies.

“Answer me,” Maglor demands. The woman sighs shakily, but she finally answers.

“I have many names, in all languages ​​and for all races. But your people call me the Gift of Ilúvatar.”

Maglor could have fallen dead right there from fright and shock. Although he could potentially already be dead, he realized that the woman who had won her old and painful heart was nothing less than death itself.

He had fallen in love with the dead.

What does this mean?

How could this end for them?

Why did she lie to him?

Was he dead? Or was he kidnapped in some estrage way?

Did she follow the order of the Valar? Or Maybe of Eru himself?

Does she love him back?

That was really the only question he care about, as crazy as it may be.

[lamemaster]

10 Ways You Kiss Your Resident Elf (Maglor x Reader)

Love comes in many forms and your love comes in kisses. Load full of them and unstoppable kisses. And Makalaure loves them. He writes them in every single one of his songs. He weaves them into his songs that he keeps hidden away, songs only for him. 

Kissing in front of your dessert- Makalaure sighs as he examines his plate of cheesecake and yours. And you, his dearest spouse, beam at your plate. “Dessert before dinner because OUR HOUSE, OUR RULES,” your declaration remains unchallenged. Makalaure being the dutiful husband he is fulfills the role and chomps down his piece of cake. In a matter of minutes, the cake is gone and with a frown, you turn to him. “Not sweet enough,” you mutter with a pout. Makalaure is about to object to your intention of another slice when his vision floods with you. A small peck on his lips and your face lights up. “Sweetest,” you say as you make a run without finishing the dinner for the third time in the week. 

Something stuck in the eye- “Wait…by Illuvatar Kano!” You stand and swat away his hands as he almost pokes your eye with his stupid finger. “You can’t do that. You need to clean the debris not pluck my eyeball out.” The said elf looks comically offended, “Alright then do it yourself,” he proclaims but does not step away. “Okay little drama queen just blow some air in my eye you oaf,” you hold open your eyelids as you observe Makalaure inch closer to do as you instructed. With his lips pouted to blow the air when you kiss him. “Sike,” an innocent kiss that is not innocent as you wink at him.

Jump scare kiss- “Boo,” you scream as you jump outside the closet and Kano falls down on his ass. His face is frozen into an unchanging expression of horror. Laughing manically you descend to help your husband stand up. While doing so you bend down and offer your hand to the elf who still lacks any kind of reaction. “Melda?” You question. “Ai, snap out of it.” You wave your hand in front of his unfocused eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You whisper as you bend down and place a gentle kiss on his lips. Then suddenly your feet slip and you find yourself falling towards the ground. From the corner of your eye, you see your dearest husband smirk, and oh boy it's on.

Butterfly kiss- you are sitting in Makalaure’s lap. The warmth of Laurelin’s rays fills your room. You breathe your husband’s lingering lavender scent. His fingers, lined with callouses from his beloved harp, rub unmatched patterns on your back. You turn your face to him so that your eyes line with his cheek. Smiling you lean in and blink your eyes. Your eyebrows flutter on his cheek and your husband pauses. He gives you a questioning look. Shaking your head you continue to bask in each other’s company. 

Flying kiss- The room has burst into chaos. The Ambarussar are running wild chased by Carnistir and Tyelko. Nerdanel stands in the corner with a horrified look on her face. Your mother-in-law looks equal parts terrified and exhausted. Your father-in-law is nowhere to be seen. You marvel at Kano’s ability to be unaffected by everything as he continues sipping his tea. “The twins can come with us,” your voice breaks the chaos. Ambarussar instantly turn to their mother with the most innocent look in their eyes. Nerdanel seems nowhere close to refusing. And Kano looks at you with a deep look of faux hurt as he wipes the tea he spluttered moments ago. “It works right husband?” You question and you blow him a flying kiss.

Curtsey kiss- The court gawks. You bend on your knee, and even with your atrociously fluffy gown you kneel and offer your hand. Makalaure does not seem fazed. Instead, he looks proud. Without a moment of hesitation, he puts his hand in your hand which you kiss with the grace of a knight. Uncaring the pair of you lead the city of Tirion into a culture shock as they watch their prince being led by his wife. You dance unbothered by horrified elves. 

French kiss- You moan and so does he when you tug his hair. Your kiss deepens with your tongues fighting a lovely battle. Kano’s hands explore your body as you both maneuver your way to your bed without breaking the kiss. “Bloody Fuck!” You curse and your kiss is interrupted as your back arches not in pleasure but in pain. “Did you leave your harp on the bed again?”

Morning kiss- Fading light of Telperion still fills the sky. You wake up to a still dreaming Makalaure. Entrapped by your husband’s peaceful expression you find yourself trapped in a dilemma. To initiate a tickle fight or to not. He was taller and somewhat powerful but you could win. However, your twitching fingers could not do it. You find yourself weak at the moment. So, abandoning your former plan for another day you settle for cuddling your husband as you kiss him to land of wakefulness.

Angry kiss- “Don’t go,” you whisper. “I will follow my father.” Your husband’s voice is full of steel and taut with tension. He is leaving Tirion. Going to the desolate land of Formenos. “Your mother stays back. Stay for her sake.” You beg. If not for you, you wish he stays for his mother. Gripping your shoulders Kano looks into your eyes with a wild look. “I will follow my father and if you don’t want to, you don’t need to.” His grip hurts but not more than his words. That day your kiss leaves you broken. Your lips swollen and bleeding are only reminders of your husband.

Goodbye kiss- You can’t. You can’t speak or stop him. He has bound himself to an oath. It is only fair he stands by his family. Avenging his grandfather is his duty. You know this yet, you cannot stop the agony you feel. He is there in your room packing his things and leaving yours. Your closet looks half empty and it rips your heart. You know you should not cry but tears don’t stop as you help him gather his belongings. You will not follow him. You will stay back for Nerdanel. For his mother on his request. “No…no, please. Kano” You caress his face, trying to memorize every detail of him. You’re weak as you kiss him goodbye. You kiss him longer putting all your love, pain, longing, and prayers into that one kiss.

[autumnshighlady]

Wildest Dreams (Feanor x Reader x Fingolfin)

summary: you've been caught in the middle of a competition between Feanor and Fingolfin's, and you can't imagine having to choose between the two. Thankfully, they make things easier

warnings: SMUT (kinda incest/y i guess since they're half brothers but nothing happens between them I swear), oral sex (m and f recieving), dirty talk

word count: 6k

requests: I’m not sure if you write for threesomes in this fandom (and if you don’t, please feel free to discard this ask): requesting Feanor x reader x Fingolfin, smut, where both of them are in love with the reader but reader doesn’t want to offend one by choosing the other, so she chooses to keep her difference, and Feanor and Fingolfin seduce her and agree to share her? Turn pleasuring her into a competition to see who is the better lover once and for all?

professor tolkien I am so sorry for this ily

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

You wandered down the paths of the gardens, letting your fingertips brush the soft petals of the flowers that swayed in the gentle breeze. The air was sweet, something which you normally would have cherished on such a fine afternoon. But not today. No, today was different. Instead of appreciating the beauty of the nature around you like you usually did, your mind was far away. It was swimming in the afterthoughts of the dream you had last night, one that sent a blush to your cheeks at the mere thought of it.

That morning, you had woken up with a thin layer of sweat on your skin and a flush on your face. But it was not the product of illness, nor the result of a nightmare. No, it was from a dream filled with lust and pleasure. In this dream, your deepest, most shameful desires had come to light. You had been at the mercy of the princes Fëanor and Fingolfin, the two eldest sons of Finwë himself, as they performed acts on you so sinful that the mere thought of them sent shivers down your spine.

You could still feel their mouths on your skin, their fingers working magic and tongues hot against your body. The sensation of the princes inside of you lingered as if it had actually happened.

It had almost felt real. 

You had dreamed of them before, but last night was the first time it had turned that sexual. For weeks Fëanor and Fingolfin had been competing for your affections, each trying to outdo the other with flirtatious comments and gestures. It had begun when Fëanor interrupted your lunch with Fingolfin, stealing you away from his half-brother to show you his work in the forges. The next day, Fingolfin had appeared at your door to personally escort you to dinner, gently placing a flower in your hair, claiming it complimented your eyes. Their competition had grown less and less subtle, and was beginning to irritate you. At first, it was flattering, but now it had become more of an inconvenience. Truthfully, a small part of your heart had always harboured a crush for both princes, and up until now, you had thought it easily concealable.

And so you continued your path down the garden, head in the clouds and paying no attention to the world around you as you savoured the sensations lingering on your skin from last night’s dream. Unfortunately, you were snapped out of your daze as you collided with a tall figure, your head smacking into a very muscular chest. Startled, you stepped back and looked up at the living obstacle, only to be met with the amused gaze of Fëanor himself.

“My Lord,” You stammered, dipping your head. “My apologies. I did not see you there.”

Fëanor snorted, “Clearly.” He said, obviously finding the situation rather entertaining. You dared to look up at him, but regretted your decision immediately. His lips were smirking with their usual arrogance, his grey-blue eyes piercing your very soul. His dark hair was loosely hanging around his face, which was not covered in ash from the forges for once. The mere image of his face looking down on your much smaller frame only brought back the images in your mind from your dream, and it sent an instant blush to your face. You quickly averted your gaze, hoping Fëanor would not notice.

Unsurprisingly, he did, as his smirk only grew more arrogant. His hand grazed your chin, tilting it up so you were forced to meet his gaze. You bit your lip, desperately trying to force the sinful images from your mind. 

To make matters worse, Fëanor moved his hand from your chin to your face, pressing the back of his hand to your cheek. “Are you alright, my dear?” He said, the curiosity in his voice obviously feigned. “Your face appears rather flushed.”

You gritted your teeth. “I’m fine.” You said, much harsher than intended. The arrogant asshole knew exactly what he was doing. You hated the effect he had on you, how a simple touch could make your body react in such a strong way. 

And Fëanor knew that. He removed his hand from your cheek, letting his fingertips ghost your collarbone has he brought them back down to his sides. “Perhaps you did not sleep well enough…” He mused. You stiffened at the mention of your sleep, and Fëanor noticed immediately and cocked his eyebrow. “Or perhaps, you slept rather well…”

The both of you knew what he was getting at, and at this you squirmed even more, mind racing as you tried to think of a response. Usually you were much more composed than this, but not today. Much to your annoyance, last night’s dream continued to cloud your judgement. He extended his arm and you took it, and the two of you continued on your original path through the garden.

“Did you dream of me, dear Y/N?” Fëanor inquired as you walked, noting the blush that had returned to your cheeks. 

“I do not remember.” You stated, hoping that would be sufficient enough to make Fëanor drop it.

Oh how wrong you were, for your vague answer merely encouraged the prince. “Or perhaps you dreamed of my brother,” He sighed dramatically, but continued to watch you from the corner of his eye, studying the every reaction you produced.

This only made you squirm even more, as if he was reading your mind, delving into your deepest desires that last night had uncovered. You felt ashamed at your current state, how Fëanor was able to read you as if you were an open book.

“Uh…” You stammered. “I… I do not think so, my Lord.”

At this, Fëanor hummed, looking straight ahead. “So your dreams were not of me, nor my brother, then who? If you hold affections for another, Lady Y/N, I would have you tell me…”

“It’s not that.” You snapped, interrupting him mid-sentence.

At this, Fëanor stopped you both, turning around so that he faced you. He leaned down,   lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Tell me, my dear, perhaps you dreamed of us both…”

You breathed in sharply. It was all too much for you, his lips whispering things into your ear just as he had in your dream, his presence so close and threatening to consume you. You stepped away before your body could react further. “I… I am sorry,” You stammered, bowing your head with as much dignity as you could muster. “I must go.”

Without waiting for an answer, you walked away as quickly as possible. You knew it was rude, but you did not care. You hurried away before anyone could see your flustered state, mentally cursing at both yourself and the arrogant prince.

*************

You spent the rest of the day avoiding both Fëanor and Fingolfin, knowing that if Fëanor continued to further inquire about your dreams, he would end up with a broken jaw, and the guards would almost certainly throw you into a cell. You had skipped lunch, sneaking out into the forest through the kitchens and grabbing a loaf of bread from your friend on the way out. You chose to spend the next few hours under your favourite tree where you knew the princes would not look for you, letting your mind drift off again once more. Desperately, you tried to keep your thoughts civil, planning out your next letter to your mother and debating whether or not to continue the song you had been composing. But your consciousness would simply not allow you to focus on such trivial matters.

After a few hours, you finally surrendered to your thoughts, tilting your head back and resting it on the tree as you closed your eyes. You let out a sigh almost immediately, letting last night’s dream replay in your head over and over as you let the world around you fade away.

Unbeknownst to you, Fëanor was watching you from a distance. He had known of your favourite spot in the forest for some time now, but dared not disturb you. Normally he did not particularly care for the boundaries of others. He was a prince, and may inherit his father’s crown and titles one day and could do as he pleased. Fëanor would never admit it, but a small part of him feared that if he approached you in your secret spot, you would lose respect for him and become distant, which was the opposite of what he desired. 

So he instead grew content with simply observing you from a distance, something which had become a daily occurrence for him. He noted the content on your face, and the hint of a blush on your cheeks, reminding him of your earlier state in the gardens.

Fëanor relished in the memory. Normally you were much more composed, but he liked the way you squirmed beneath his gaze, unable to hide the obvious thoughts that were racing through your mind as his lips brushed your ear. At this point he was almost certain that you had dreamed of sharing your bed with him, and possibly his half-brother, and that was why your encounter in the gardens had been so unusual. But the prince was not quite prepared for what he would hear and witness next.

It was faint, barely audible even to his elven ears, but you let out a breathy whisper: “Fëanor…”

His name coming from your lips in such a manner sent an all too familiar sensation down Fëanor’s spine. He held his breath as he saw you ever so slightly press your legs together, chest rising up and down intensely. Countless times Fëanor had imagined you beneath him, his name spilling from your mouth as his hands explored your body. He had thought about the ways he would claim you, and while part of him wanted to take you from behind and fuck you until you screamed, the other part of him wanted to see you beneath him, receiving the most satisfaction and pleasure you’d ever had in your life.

He bit his lip, relishing in how blissfully unaware you were of your surroundings until you whispered another name, “Fingolfin…” 

Under any other circumstances, hearing your sweet lips whisper Fingolfin’s name would have sent Fëanor into a murderous rage frightening enough to make Morgoth cower. But not this time. Instead of being filled with jealousy, a brilliant idea came to his mind and he smirked. Your whispers were all the confirmation he needed to know exactly what you had dreamed of last night. Satisfied, Fëanor turned away and headed back to the palace. 

He needed to talk to Fingolfin.

**********

After a while, you finally opened your eyes and sat up straight. You did not know how much time had passed since you had drifted off into your haze. You felt a cold breeze, realizing it was about to get dark soon. Collecting your skirt, you stood up, shivering slightly at the cold as you headed back through the forest.

When you arrived inside the palace, you did not bother to see if there was any food left in the kitchen. Instead, you elected to return to your chambers, where you hoped to have a hot bath and go to sleep. You arrived at your door and pushed it open, but nearly shrieked in surprise at the sight before you.

Fëanor was lying on your bed, legs crossed as he casually fiddled with the corner of one of your pillows. He was not dressed in his usual fancy robes, but rather a simple pair of trousers with a loose white shirt. He gave you a smirk as you entered, noting the surprise on your face.

“Good evening, my dear Y/N.” Fëanor said innocently. “What took you so long? I was beginning to wonder if you got lost on your way to bed.”

After a few moments, your shock subsided. “What the fuck, Fëanor?” You snapped, not bothering with your usual polite greeting. “Why the fuck are you in my chambers? You can’t just walk in whenever-”

“Oh, but I can.” He interrupted, dismissing your outburst. “But that matters not. Perhaps now you will tell me more about your dream, little one.”

At this, you rolled your eyes, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. This time, Fëanor and his half-brother’s competitiveness had gone too far. “Seriously?” You said in an exasperated tone, your hands defiantly placed on your hips, all sense of embarrassment gone. “That’s what you came here to ask? Are you not capable of just dropping the subject?”

Before Fëanor could answer, a deep voice came from the darkest corner of the room. “I, too, would like to know about this dream.”

You practically jumped out of your skin. Out of the shadows emerged Fingolfin himself. But it was not the Fingolfin you had grown accustomed to seeing - the noble elf who always had a stoic expression on his chiseled face, consistently dressed in robes more elaborate than that of his brother’s. No, this Fingolfin was clad in similar attire to Fëanor, his toned chest showing behind the thin fabric. His dark brown hair was smooth, making you want to run your fingers through it. His eyes were even more silver than his brother’s, making contact with yours as he stepped closer to you.

“Okay….” You stuttered, beyond confused. “What the fuck is going on?”

Fëanor sighed dramatically, kicking his legs off the bed and standing up. The sons of Finwë walked towards you like predators stalking their prey. You felt your heart race, trying to step away only for your back to meet the wall behind you and you gulped. Simply seeing the princes like this was enough for all your sinful thoughts created by your dream to surface at the front of your mind. You pressed your legs together as they drew closer, stopping less than a foot away from you. 

“The thing is, my dear,” Fëanor said, reaching out and brushing your fingers against your wrist before slowly dragging them up the length of your arm. “I have come to the conclusion that the reason your head has been in the clouds all day is because of the dream you had last night. It only took one touch from me in the gardens this morning to figure out all I needed to know about it…”

“My brother tells me that you dreamed of the two of us.” Fingolfin said, his voice feigning innocence just as his brother’s had earlier today. “And what do you presume we did to our lovely Y/N in her dream, Fëanáro?”

Fëanor chuckled, his movements on your arm not ceasing. “I think we fucked her into oblivion.” His voice dropped an octave. “Is that correct, meldenya [my love]? Did you dream of being at our mercy as we worshipped that pretty body of yours?”

By this point, you could resist them no longer. All day you had been fighting the sensations and emotions that stemmed from your dream, but between Fëanor’s teasing touches and Fingolfin’s lust-filled gaze, you finally caved. 

“Yes.” You muttered meekly, face flushing with embarrassment. You felt arousal pool between your legs, and for a moment you hated yourself for reacting to the two noble elves so strongly when they had not really done much.

Fingolfin chuckled lowly, reaching up to cup your face with his left hand. “Do not be ashamed, my dear,” He soothed. “We only wish to give you what you desire.”

Fëanor leaned in, as he did earlier in the gardens, but this time his teeth gently grazed along the outside of your pointed ear. That sensation alone sent shockwaves through your body, every nerve in the sensitive area screaming that it was too much and not enough at the same time. “What is it exactly, darling, that your dream revealed your desires to be?” He murmured against your skin. “After all, we are generous elves — tell us exactly what you want, and you may have it. So, my dear, please do reveal exactly how that little dream of yours went down.”

Everything was spinning. Any sense of composure you had was  gone under their touches. Fingolfin’s left hand trailed down your neck, brushing against your breast before settling on your waist and giving it a firm squeeze. You sighed, allowing Fëanor to continue his ministrations along your ear as you let your head rest against the wooden door. The air felt hot, your clothes too tight - if you could only just slip your dress off…

Your thoughts were cut off but a sharp squeeze by that large hand at your waist. “Your prince asked you a question,” Fingolfin all but growled, his voice full of dominance and leaving no room for debate. It was akin to the tone you had heard him use when giving orders, only this one was dripping with heat. “Answer it, darling, before we take matters into our own hands.”

The image was tempting — to allow the two elves to make the choices for you, doing with you as they pleased. But then the reality of the situation set in: here you were, a common-born elf with no noble family, with two of the most desirable elves in Arda ready to comply with your every wish. They held such control, such respect everywhere else, except for at this moment in your bedroom. In this space, you made the decisions.

They were yours to command, to wield like a sword.

You smirked. “Well, in my dream you both took my clothes off and carried me to the bed,” You began, hearing Fëanor hum his approval. “You took turns tasting me, as if I was your last meal on Arda. I dreamed of you both on your knees, allowing me to get lost in the pleasure of your fingers and tongues. Then Fëanor took me from behind, while Fingolfin claimed my mouth.”

The words tumbled out of you like a river bursting free from a dam. So long had you contained your desires, but no longer. Evidently, your words had an effect on the two princes. Fëanor’s breathing had become more noticeable, his attention on your ear diverted to your neck in the soft spot beneath your jaw, making you see stars. Fingolfin’s right hand had come up to knead your right breast, his left hand migrating to your ass with a firmness and assurance that made your knees go weak.

“See?” Fëanor purred. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Now let us take care of you, darling. Let us give you everything and more.”

You whined as he pulled away, but it was cut short as the two elves began working in tandem to remove your dress. Fëanor pulled your arms out of your sleeves with a shocking tenderness, while Fingolfin’s thick fingers worked at the laces on your back. Within seconds, your chest was left bare. Instinctively, your arms went to cover your breasts, but strong hands clamped down on your wrists.

“Now now, let’s not be shy,” Fëanor mockingly chastised. “Let us see you, princess.” Before you could even comprehend a response, your arms were back at your sides. You almost sighed with relief as you were free from the constricting top of your dress. But what happened next nearly made you climax on the spot.

Fëanor got to his knees, pulling your dress past your waist and down to your ankles along with your panties. Fëanor, son of High King Finwë, the Prince of the Noldor, was kneeling before you as if in worship. His grey-blue eyes, which normally were clouded like the sky of an oncoming storm, were clear and looking up at you — still arrogant, but with a newfound awe as they surveyed your figure. You stepped out of your dress, moment of awe cut short as Fingolfin, determined not to let his brother have all the attention, swept you up into his strong arms. 

He carried you over to your bed, placing you down on the mattress as if you were a piece of glass threatening to break under his strong arms. Almost immediately, he was on top of you, his muscular frame so close, but not close enough. Fingolfin leaned his head down as if to kiss you, but instead put his lips to your ear.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His deep voice was like velvet, a silky fog wrapping around all your senses. “How many nights I have pictured you under me, those starlit eyes staring into mine as I enter you? How I have nearly dropped to my knees just to beg you for one taste of you? How I’ve pumped myself dry imagining those lips around my cock? My sweet Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me.”

“To us.” Came the other male’s voice. Fingolfin’s confessions had you reeling, to the point you had almost forgotten Fëanor was there. You turned your neck to the right, allowing the elf on top of you to press warm kisses down the left side of your neck, nipping and sucking as he went. In turning your head you were faced with Fëanor, who had discarded his shirt. His muscles looked like they were sculpted by Aulë himself, each one toned and defined in ways you didn’t know possible from countless hours spent in the forges. Parts of his loose hair hung over his shoulders, framing his angular face as he stared at you.

Naturally, the eldest son of Finwë almost preened at the lust-filled look you gave him. Under normal circumstances you would have mentally smacked yourself for so easily stroking the prince’s already inflated ego, but it mattered not in this moment. All you cared about was that he touch you with those strong, practised hands. You whined as Fingolfin’s teeth grazed a sensitive spot along the column of your throat before moving down to your collarbone, sucking and biting gently as he went. One of his large hands had come up to your breast, kneading the flesh and causing you to gasp. 

“You look so exquisite,” Fëanor purred as he approached the bed, looking down at your flushed form unabashedly. “Just laying there for us to ruin you. You are lucky Fingolfin is much gentler than I. He shall warm you up for me so I can make you scream loud enough for all of Arda to hear you.”

You yelped as Fingolfin harshly bit down on your nipple while boldly cupping between your legs with his free hand. “Do you think me unable to make her scream?” He growled, a dark glint in his eyes that sent chills through your body.

Fëanor smirked. “Not as well as I can.”

“Challenge accepted.” Fingolfin said boldly as he swiped a finger up your slit, collecting the ever-growing pool of wetness there. Your responsive noise was cut off as Fëanor’s large hand wrapped around your throat, his mouth swallowing your gasp and claiming your lips. He tasted like spiced wine and embers, encasing all your senses at once. The Prince groaned into your mouth, squeezing your throat harder. Your head spun between the dominance of Fëanor’s lips on yours and Fingolfin’s mouth slowly descending towards your core. 

“Watch it,” The younger elf growled, lifting his lips from your stomach. “You said we’d take turns.” 

Fëanor removed his lips from yours, rolling his eyes as he released your throat. “Get over it.” He said. “If you get to taste her pussy first, then I get to taste her mouth first. Fair is fair.”

Fingolfin huffed, but didn’t argue. With a new level of determination, he placed his lips back on your skin. You moaned, the sensation of his lips on your stomach making you tingle. The Prince’s hot breath fanned over your core, causing you to inhale sharply. “Ask me nicely.” He said, the closeness of his lips to your wetness making you squirm.

“What?” You mumbled, earning a chuckle from Fëanor, who had sat himself on the bed and was stroking your hair. Every so often, he tugged gently.

“I said, ask me nicely.” Fingolfin repeated, more sternly this time. The authority in his voice went straight between your legs, slick tracking down onto the soft sheets below.

Fëanor’s grip on your locks tightened as he chuckled again. “We’ve barely touched her and she’s already incoherent. Perhaps she cannot handle us and we should stop—“

“No!” You cried out, embarrassingly fast. 

Fingolfin rested his cheek on the inside of your thigh, and you peered down at him. The sight of the towering, noble elf on his knees with his chiselled face mere centimetres away from your pussy made you dizzy. You had fantasized about this moment more than you cared to admit, alternating between the two princes most of the time. “Well, my love, if you want me to taste your sweet pussy, you have to beg for it.” He said lowly.

You whined, pouting a bit. You were a proud elf, and begging was not your strong suit. Sensing your hesitation, Fingolfin smirked, and began snaking his way down the bed towards your feet. He grabbed your ankle and lifted your leg up, placing feather light kisses along the inside. Slowly as ever, the prince made his way down your leg, kissing and nipping as he went. Right before he met your core, he pulled away and repeated the pattern on your other leg, causing you to whine. 

“Poor thing.” Fëanor said in mock sympathy, stroking your face with his calloused fingers. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he bent down and whispered in your ear. “All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll throw him aside and show him how it’s done. You won’t need to beg, I’ll give you whatever you want, sweet thing.”

“Don’t listen to him.” Fingolfin said sternly, drawing your attention back to the elf between your legs. “Focus on me. Once you ask, I will be yours to command. All you must do is beg for it.”

“She won’t break.” Fëanor snorted impatiently, clearly waiting for his chance.

Fingolfin responded confidently. “Yes, she will.” Lazily, he lowered his head and dragged his tongue around the edges of your core, centimetres away from where you needed him most. You let out a shaky breath, toes curling as your eyes squeezed shut. It was torture — blissful, but excruciating torture. It wasn’t long before you felt your pride begin to crack, the tough facade you thought you had slowly crumbling.

“Please.” You mumbled, voice breathy and barely above a whisper.

The Prince smirked in satisfaction, kissing your mound lightly. “Please, what?”

“Please, Fingolfin,” You gasped, fighting the urge to clamp your legs around him and drag him closer. “Please use your tongue on my pussy. Please, my lord.”

Satisfied, Fingolfin finally lowered his mouth to your cunt, licking a bold stripe up your slut. You cried out, nearly in tears at the overwhelming pleasure as the prince began to skillfully devour you. Your hands quickly found themselves tangled in his hair, earning a heavenly groan from the male. He was taking his time with you, each movement confident and strong and eliciting an intense reaction. Your head spun, legs weak already with the pleasure Fingolfin was bringing you. 

“Open your eyes.” Fëanor’s strong hand tangled in your hair again, tilting your head down and forcing you to look down at the sight before you. “Is this what you dreamed of, darling? Being our little plaything, begging for us to make you feel better than any other male could? How many nights have those little fingers taken up residence between your legs as you imagine this very scene, trying to find relief but never quite scratching that itch?”

You garbled something of a response, but you weren’t even sure what. Fëanor growled, tightening his grip. “I asked you a question, pet. How many times have you touched yourself imagining this?”

“Many nights…” You managed to gasp, ensuring to keep your eyes on Fingolfin, who took your clit between his lips and sucked.

“Good girl.” Fëanor purred. “But I bet your fingers aren’t nearly as satisfying as our tongues, or our cocks, are they?”

“No.” You arched your back, feeling that tightening buildup inside your body as you approached your orgasm faster than you’d care to admit.

“Naturally.” Fëanor loosened his grip on your hair. “Now look at Arakáno as you cum on his face.”

You obeyed without thinking, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure as Fingolfin’s tongue tipped you over the edge, sending shockwaves through your entire body. Fingolfin moaned with you as you tugged on his dark locks, the animalistic sound echoing throughout the chamber as you rode out your climax.

Panting, you caught your breath as he pulled away, leaving your legs trembling. He climbed up your body, his massive form towering over yours as he leaned down and kissed you. You felt in a trance, body a trembling mess. You wondered how you would endure multiple rounds if you were this weak already.

You didn’t even realize how Fëanor had slunk down to take Fingolfin’s place until firm hands snaked under your thighs and gripped your hips firmly. Without a warning, he dove into your still sensitive pussy like a man starved, loud slurping noises filling the room. You cried out, trying to squirm away, but Fëanor’s grip was like iron and you couldn’t move. 

“That’s it, darling.” Fingolfin purred. “Let us hear you. Let the whole palace hear you.”

You no longer attempted to bite your lip and conceal your noises. Your moans sounded throughout the room as Fingolfin firmly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head. You whimpered, almost completely immobile. You were overstimulated from your first orgasm, yet the older prince had no mercy on you as he continued to devour your wetness. While Fingolfin was like the water’s current, calculated and steady, his half brother was akin to a hurricane of fire. His movements were fast and unpatterned, designed to send you towards the edge as fast and as ruthlessly as possible. A single tear ran down your cheek as you pleaded — not even sure what you were pleading for.

“Ease up, Fëanor.” Fingolfin said sternly, noticing your tear.

The heir lifted his head for a moment and scoffed. ���She can take it. Can’t you, pet?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes, I can take it. Please, just don’t stop.”

“Thought so.” Fëanor smirked triumphantly before delving back between your legs, doubling his efforts. Two of his thick fingers found their way inside your tight walls, causing you to cry out even louder. Quickly, they found that spot deep inside you that made your entire body jolt.

You could practically see Fëanor’s ego inflate at your reaction, feeling the satisfied smirk of his lips on your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. Your release approached at light speed within minutes, but just as you were about to fall over the edge, Fëanor pulled away.

“No!” You cried out pitifully, wanting to kick him in the face at your loss of an orgasm. Before you could protest further, those strong hands on your hips flipped you over onto stomach. Fëanor yanked your hips back so you were up on your knees, and Fingolfin released your wrists, allowing you to push yourself up onto your hands. 

“Are you going to take our cocks like a good little slut?” Fëanor cooed, unlacing his breeches and pulling them off. Fingolfin had also begun removing his shirt, letting the fabric fall to the floor to reveal his toned body. Your mouth watered as he began removing his breeches, his large cock springing free. He smirked with pride as you drank in the sight of him, giving himself a firm stroke as he walked towards the edge of the bed.

You gasped as Fëanor pressed his thick cock into you, rutting back and forth and caressing your ass with skilled hands. “We’re going to stuff both ends of you, pet. I’m going to fill that tight pussy of yours with my cum, and you’re going to take every drop of it with pride Understood?”

You nodded, pressing your ass eagerly into Fëanor’s cock. He chuckled, slapping your ass one last time before pressing the head into you. You moaned at the stretch, forcing yourself to relax as the Prince slid himself into you with surprising slowness. “Gods above,” Fëanor groaned behind you. “You feel incredible. Even better than I imagined.”

Your toes curled at the thought of the Prince fantasizing about this moment just like you did. Your thoughts were interrupted as Fingolfin brought his cock to your lips, gently tracing them with the head. “Open.” He commanded, gently but sternly. 

You obliged without thinking, body responding to his orders on its own. Eagerly, your jaw stretched to wrap your lips around him, sucking gently. Fingolfin sighed deeply, the noise sending pleasure down your spin. You inhaled through your nose, opening your throat as best you could to accommodate his massive size.

“Good girl,” Fingolfin praised as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. It was a sight that took your breath away — the noble prince with his head tilted back and eyes fluttered shut in bliss at how you made him feel. “Look at you, taking me in that smart mouth of yours so well. It’s like you were made for this, weren’t you?”

Fëanor grunted, beginning to move his hips and thrust in and out of you. He swore, picking up the pace. Fingolfin did the same, gently fucking your face. You were in heaven, the two elven princes filling you up as they found a rhythm that made you see stars. Your body jostled between them like a rag doll, your arms fighting to keep yourself upright as they increased the pace.

The room was filled with the sounds of sex as they mercilessly pounded into you for what felt like hours. Tears spilled down your throat as you gagged on Fingolfin’s cock, taking breaths through your nose whenever you could. Fëanor gripped your hips so tightly you knew there would be colourful bruises the next day — bruises you would be proud to stare at in the mirror.

Your body crescendoed to the release you were denied earlier, beginning to shake as you approached it fast. You began to clench around Fëanor’s cock, and he moaned. “That’s it, pet.” He growled, ploughing into your cunt. “Cum all over my cock like the slut you are. Fucking take it.”

You whimpered, screaming around Fingolfin’s cock as one of Fëanor’s hands reached down between your legs and firmly rubbed your clit. That was all it took for you to explode, shaking uncontrollably as your orgasm took over. You saw white, Fingolfin letting out a loud groan as the vibrations from your noises consumed his cock. Fëanor moaned fiercely, hips stuttering as he spilled deep inside you. 

Fingolfin followed a few minutes later, and you eagerly swallowed every drop he spurted down your throat. Your jaw ached and every bone in your body was spent, but you were in heaven. A thin sheen of sweat covered the Princes, their long hair clinging to their muscles as they panted. You collapsed as they pulled out of you, landing on the soft bed as you caught your breath. Wordlessly, the princes began to tend to you. Fingolfin grabbed the glass of water from the nightstand and gently brought it to your lips, smoothing your hair as he did so. Fëanor brought forth a damp cloth, gently wiping you down. They murmured gentle praises, and you basked in the glow of their attention. They settled you under the sheets, each prince taking up residence beside you and caressing your body.

“So…” Fëanor hummed as you began to drift off into sleep. “Who won?”

Fingolfin’s quiet but stern scold was all you heard before you let yourself slip into unconsciousness.