#feanor reader insert

[koyunsoncizeri]

Ah good lord this gut wrenching...

imagine the angst - saving Fëanors life from Gothmog but dying instead, with last words being "I love you... you have to survive ...for me"

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ fëanor ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. after throwing yourself in harm's way in his stead, fëanor just manages to haul you out of the battle along with his sons. it is only then does he notice your fatal wounds and panic is soon to ensue ( death ៸៸ blood mention ៸៸ angst )

· ⊰ note. okay so! I cried. A lot. BUT this was a very interesting concept and I just loved the angst, hope you enjoy!

( masterlist ) ( taglist form )

“Our medicine, now! Give it to me!” 

“Father -” 

“I will not ask you again Maedhros!”

“Fëanor,’’ your raspy voice draws him from his world of red in exchange for a new crimson when he glances down and is once again met with your seeping wounds. “My love, please, save your strength.’’ A strong hand wraps around yours, bringing it to his lips His free arm is hooked beneath your back and cradling you in a slanted position. He sat on his knees, having barely escaped the battle, that blasted creature — the one you fought in his stead. 

Barely managing to shake your head, Fëanor then returns to yelling at his son for the medicine they clearly lacked So you attempt to call out to him despite your quaking voice, the pain in your battered sides with each and every breath. He listened to none of his sons who attempted to drive the truth into him, which is why you, albeit with great difficulty, eventually caught his attention once more with a quavering murmur of his name.

“P-Please, Fëanor. I cannot — I c-cannot. . .’’ In an instant, he is cradling you further into his arms as if to shield you from the world, as if to hide you away from the reaper creeping at your door. “No, no, you can. You will. Look at me,’’ the hand leaves yours to scramble to your cheek, cupping your face and directing your eyes upon him. 

“You will be alright, please, please just keep your eyes on me.’’ Without breaking contact he once again yells for his sons - at least, that is what he thinks. It comes out as a cry, one that although tempered, brims with desperation. Yet none make a move, for they knew the medicine would make no difference.

Instead, they are forced to watch their father’s anguish as clings to you as though you were one of those Eru forsaken silmarils which brought them out here in the first place.

Fëanor finally felt the crash of each and every one of the agonies of which he was the catalyst. Finally, he realised and recognised fear. Fingers coil into your tattered robes, a voice shouts at you to keep your eyes open, to look upon him. And when you, at last, muster the strength to focus on those brilliant blue hues, you just manage to grab his wrist and in turn, bring the entirety of his attention upon you. 

“I love. . . I love you,’’

“No,’’ he quakes. “Do not say that, do not dare say that —”

“F-Fëanor,’’ you gasp, “please. . . you have to -’’ the light, one that matches the two trees of your beautiful home, the very dwelling you met this ellon, the love of your life. “Survive. . . fo-r me, f-for. . .’’

He has seen the shadow of death before, the dimming glimmer within someone’s eyes like a candle snuffed out. But Fëanor would never forget the way life drained from your face, the weight of your body limping into his arms, and most of all? The withering, greying colour of your once vibrant, adoration-filled irises. 

And for a moment he deems it untrue. He calls it a dream, blames it on a nightmare. It had to be, there was no world in which he could not see your smile again - hear your voice or have you look at him with so much ardour. There was no universe where he could no longer feel your warmth, where he could no longer hold you in his embrace. 

And yet. . .

Here he now sat. No voice, no smile, no assuring words, no warmth or comfort or glimmering sparkle and most of all. No you. 

He shakes you once, then twice, calls for you three times and when the reality finally crashed upon him like a devastating, shattering wave, he falls. Fëanor hunches over your, cradling you to his chest in an attempt to savour the last remnants of your warmth. The tears don’t fall, not yet. Instead they well within his eyes and only when his throat parts do they fall. 

Followed by a harrowing, heart-wrenching and agonised cry into the stars above.

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[doodle-pops]

Their Favourite Place To Kiss You | House of Feanor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Fëanor

Nape of your neck, just where your hairline met your skin. His touch was always intense, but there, his lips were soft and unhurried. He loved how you would tilt your head slightly, allowing him more access—the simple act felt like a quiet surrender. He would press his lips against that tender spot, and the warmth of his breath would linger long after he pulled away. It was his private gesture, a way of stating a claim without words. Whether you were standing together in his forge, your hands stained with ink from writing down his notes or seated by the fire, Fëanor would lean in, his lips finding that familiar spot, letting you know that even in his most focused moments, you were never far from his thoughts.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maedhros

On your wrist, right over the faint pulse that beat steadily beneath your skin. His kisses were gentle, his large, calloused hands cradling your smaller ones as he brought your wrist to his lips. There was something worshipful about the way he kissed you there, almost as if he were paying homage to you with every press of his lips. He loved how your pulse would quicken when he did it, how you would shiver at the delicate contact. It wasn’t a public display—Maedhros was too private for that—but when you were alone together, he would often reach for your wrist, brushing a kiss there in quiet moments. It was a kiss that spoke of trust, silent devotion, and the love you shared.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Maglor

The corner of your mouth, where a teasing smile would often begin. He adored the way you would turn your head just slightly, pretending to evade him, only to let him catch you in the end. His kisses were playful, his lips lingering there as if savouring the promise of a fuller kiss to come. It was a tender spot, full of unsaid things, where laughter could easily turn into something softer. He’d brush his lips there in passing, whether you were seated beside him while he strummed a melody or walking together in the peaceful garden. Every kiss felt like a small secret, something shared just between the two of you, unspoken but deeply understood.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celegorm

Your temple. It was an act of quiet affection, one that contrasted with his usual exuberant energy. He was always so intense in every other way, but when he kissed you there, it was soft, a rare moment of calm in the storm of his life. He loved the way you’d close your eyes, letting the tension melt away as his lips pressed against your skin—a sign of trust and comfort. Whether you were resting your head against his shoulder after a long day or sitting together in the grass, he would lean over, his kiss firm and warm. It wasn’t a kiss that demanded attention, but one that grounded him.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Caranthir

Your jawline. He loved the way you would tense ever so slightly in surprise, as his lips brushed the curve just beneath your ear and then traced the line down to your chin. There was something almost possessive about it, the way his kisses there would linger, his mouth barely moving, just pressing firmly into your skin. It wasn’t a place others would think to kiss, but Caranthir wasn’t like others. He found solace in these quiet moments, his lips against your jaw, his hand resting against your waist as if he needed to keep you close. It was intimate, a way of anchoring himself, and a way of showing you how much he needed that quiet connection.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

The curve of your shoulder, where skin met the delicate slope of your collarbone. His lips would hover there, just brushing the surface before pressing down more firmly, almost as if he were tasting your very essence. He loved how you would instinctively relax into him, your body turning slightly to allow him more access. It was a vulnerable place to kiss, exposed and intimate, and Curufin relished that fact. Whether you were sitting together in his study or standing by his side as he worked on his latest project, he would lean in without warning, his mouth finding that familiar curve. It was a kiss that was both grounding and possessive, a silent reminder that you belonged to each other.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amrod

Your forehead. It was a simple, gentle gesture, and one that he reserved for moments when he wanted to express affection without needing words. His lips would brush over your skin softly, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his breath. Whether you were sitting beside him, lost in conversation, or leaning against him by the fire, Amrod would tilt your chin up with a quiet, unspoken request. He adored the way you would smile slightly in response, knowing that this small kiss carried the weight of all the tenderness he didn’t often express openly. It was his way of grounding you, making you feel safe, and showing you how much he cared without needing to say anything at all.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Amras

The top of your head. It was a casual yet affectionate act that came so naturally to him. You’d often be standing or sitting in front of him, unaware of how his gaze would soften as he reached out and pressed his lips against your hair. Whether you were wrapped up in a blanket, half-asleep in his arms, or simply leaning against him as the day drew to a close, he found comfort in this small, affectionate gesture. His kiss was always accompanied by the gentle press of his hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving through your hair as he pulled you a little closer. It was an intimate touch, one that never failed to make you feel cherished and loved.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Celebrimbor

Your hands. Whether he was working in his forge or meticulously sketching a design, whenever you were near, he’d take your hand in his and press his lips to your knuckles, his eyes filled with a quiet devotion. There was something intimate about the way his lips lingered there, a silent acknowledgement of the trust and affection that flowed between you. He’d always smile afterwards, the corner of his mouth quirking up as if it was his secret way of expressing his feelings. Whether you were walking through the halls of Eregion or sitting with him in the glow of his forge, his kisses on your hands felt like small promises.

Masterlist

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[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.” 

[ivys-library]

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This is primarily a reader-insert blog but I'm open to writing character x character.

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｡･:*˚:✧｡ Character List ｡✧:˚*:･｡

.☘︎ ݁˖ A Court of Thorns and Roses

Azriel, Cassian, Eris, Jurian, Lucien, Nesta, Rhys, Tamlin, Tarquin

.☘︎ ݁˖ Avatar the Last Airbender

Aang, Azula, Katara, Mai, Sokka, Suki, Ty Lee, Zuko

.☘︎ ݁˖ Baldur's Gate 3

Astarion, Dammon, Gale, Halsin, Karlach, Lae'zel, Minthara, Wyll

.☘︎ ݁˖ Gladiator / Gladiator II

Caracalla, Geta, Lucius, Marcus Acacius, Maximus

.☘︎ ݁˖ House of the Dragon

Aemond, Alicent, Daemon, Helaena, Jacaerys, Rhaenyra

.☘︎ ݁˖ The Silmarillion / The Hobbit / Lord of the Rings / Rings of Power

✧ Aegnor, Angrod, Caranthir, Celebrimbor, Celegorm, Curufin, Ecthelion, Feanor, Finarfin, Fingolfin, Fingon, Finrod, Galdor, Gil-Galad, Glorfindel, Maedhros, Maeglin, Maglor, Nerdanel, Rog, Turgon ✧ Bard, Bilbo, Feren, Fili, Kili, Lindir, Meludir, Tauriel, Thorin, Thranduil ✧ Aragorn, Arwen, Celeborn, Elrond, Eomer, Eowyn, Faramir, Frodo, Galadriel, Haldir, Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Sam ✧ Adar, Arondir, Sauron/Annatar

.☘︎ ݁˖ Star Wars

Ahsoka, Anakin, Darth Maul, Din Djarin, Obi-Wan, Padme, Rex

[etherealmoonbow]

Note: Fluff = 💖 Angst = 🖤 Holiday = 🎄 Happy vibes =😁

Comfort =💕 Other=❣️ My favorite =⭐️

~ Feanor

~ Maedhros

One shots

-Maedhros x reader - Promises and Oaths 🖤💕⭐️

-Maedhros x reader - Weakness 🖤💕⭐️

Headcanons

-Maedhros with a S/O who has chronic fatigue ❣️ -Maedhros with a S/O who had a Bad day 💕

-Maedhros and Maglor taking care of a reader who was captured in Angband 🖤💕

~ Maglor

Headcanons

-Maglor with a S/O who has anxiety ❣️

-Maglor with a S/O who has depression ❣️

-Maedhros and Maglor taking care of a reader who was captured in Angband🖤💕

-Maglor teaching you to play the harp and sing 💖

~ Celegorm

Headcanons

-Celegorm with a S/O that has depression ❣️

-Celegorm with a S/O that has Panic Syndorme or anxiety ❣️

~ Caranthir

Headcanons

-Caranthir with a S/O that has depression ❣️ -Caranthir with a S/O that has anxiety ❣️

~Feanorians “in general”

Headcanons

-Spending Christmas with the Feanorians 🎄

Part 1 Part 2

-Feanorians favorite Christmas Dessert 🎄

-Headcanons for Feanorians taking care of your child 💖😁

-Feanorians with a S/O that has a mythical companion ❣️

-Having a family game night with the Feanorians 💖⭐️

- Feanorian Brothers with an Independent S/O ❣️

-Feanorians taking care of a sick S/O 💖💕

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Being In An Arranged Marriage With Them

A/N: This was so much I wrote!! For some reason I felt like I made a few of them OOC, but what the hell. It's an AU, so they’ll all be different from the regular Silm verse 😆. I think I broke my wrist whilst breaking a sweat thinking of different scenarios for each of them, but I managed to make it to the finish line! Alas, the final piece! ಥ_ಥ

Warnings: arranged marriage, there are minor angst themes, neglect and loneliness, rejection, comfort and happy endings for most except (Feanor)

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Feanor

He’s not known as Fëanáro without reason. When those words came out of his father’s mouth, as much as he adored his father, he was incensed by the level and nature of the dictation he was subjected to. He felt he was unjustly punished for some unknown transgression by Eru through this method.

Don’t anticipate him to even breathe, let alone glance in your direction when you’re observing him. He would gladly lock eyes with your figure when you’re not paying attention and scrutinize you without remorse. There’s nothing you could say to convince him of your innocence in this arrangement.

He assumes that you had a say in choosing your spouse because he’s Fëanáro, the firstborn and Crown Prince, and everyone desired him. Though politics and royal duties didn’t interest him, he was now aware of the political rationale behind the union. Eventually, he resists continuing his resentment towards his father because his father was compelled into it (in his opinion).

This resembles a Bridgerton moment, akin to King George and Queen Charlotte, where you reside in one house while he lives in another, a significant distance away. His father can complain all he wants about the lack of effort to establish a connection, and Fëanáro would simply ignore and roll his eyes.

Throughout the arranged marriage, you will feel completely alienated and rejected. There was a time when you were excited about being wed to the Crown Prince, even though your freedom was being curtailed. Even at events where you’re expected to appear as a couple, you arrive in separate coaches.

Do not expect him to hold your hand or have your arm around his elbow. Fëanáro takes the commitment seriously, as he feels his own freedom has been taken away. Talking to him is futile, for he will merely pretend to listen while focusing on getting drunk to forget the entire night.

“Why do you despise me so much? You act as if I am the cause of this entire arrangement when it is your father who is responsible. Listen, if you intend to ignore me, it might be best if we end this, as I did not willingly sign up for this mistreatment, especially from you. We can part ways and continue our separate lives, or if we are to continue, at least afford me the same respect you expect.”

You displayed remarkable courage by confronting his tantrums and earning yourself a few withering side–glances filled with anger and disbelief, because “How dare you speak to me so openly, as if we are equals?!” Kudos to you; you’ve just earned yourself another round of silence for the remainder of the night and week, perhaps even into the afterlife.

Fëanáro has no intention of making your marriage work. Eru could punish him, but he’d simply retort and carry on with his life. It’s all about his belief that he’s being coerced into the same situation as his father and his determination to avoid making that mistake.

If this arrangement is to succeed, you’ll need to pray seven times an hour, every day, for the rest of your life for divine intervention. Otherwise, you’ll be left complaining about his behaviour and treatment while he remains unruffled.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maedhros

He had anticipated this situation due to the constant rivalry between his father and his half–uncle, who incessantly engaged in banter to prove the superiority of their respective families. He often found himself thrust into the forefront of this unnecessary competition. Therefore, he approached the arrangement with a sense of neutrality (lie! he chats his mother’s ear off).

As the firstborn of the heir, he fully comprehends the specific obligations that accompany his title and embraces them wholeheartedly. So, when you join your parents for the first meeting, he gracefully accepts his fate as your husband (although he sheds a few tears in private to his mother).

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, My Lady/Lord Y/N. I am Prince Nelyafinwë Maitimo, your betrothed. I sincerely hope that in the brief time before our wedding, we can learn a lot to make our journey as a married couple smoother. Please, do not hesitate to inform me of any discomforts you may encounter, and I will do my utmost to ensure your well–being. Remember, I am your husband, not your master. Have no fear as we build a life together.”

He is a polite and reserved individual, leaning more towards propriety than humour. He barely possesses a funny bone and seldom indulges in levity, which can be one of the more challenging aspects of the marriage. Nevertheless, he is respectful, stands up for you, is considerate, and fulfils all the duties of a husband.

However, he respects your boundaries when it comes to intimacy, acknowledging that you both are strangers. This means separate sleeping arrangements. All other spaces, such as the kitchen, dining room, reading room, coaches, and carriages, are shared.

As a husband, he typically leaves most decisions up to you, entrusting you with the role of household caretaker and offering his input only when you seek an additional opinion or when he believes a change is necessary.

During the initial stages of your relationship, he hopes that you can build good bonds with the rest of his family, particularly his brothers and parents. He is observant of your reactions and interactions with them and adjusts accordingly if he senses any discomfort.

Despite his efforts to avoid such emotions, he becomes sentimental when he reflects on the life he has created with you, even if it feels somewhat mechanical. The absence of arguments and the harmonious atmosphere in the house bring him joy. There are moments of awkwardness, but you’ve both learned to overcome them (and the first time you saw him laugh was when you attempted to make a joke about it).

As your marriage progresses, you encounter numerous highs and lows, primarily stemming from the political aspects. You have expressed your discontent with being treated as a trophy and being involved in unnecessary competition, despite knowing this from the outset. Dealing with this, particularly from his father, is a challenge that you and Maedhros will face together.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Maglor

Maglor is just as composed as his older brother, but he doesn’t quite align with the idea of both of you being used for political and competitive purposes. He grapples with the notion that Maedhros accepted the idea of an arranged marriage for political gain so readily. Now, he feels a profound sadness that he can’t freely choose someone to capture his heart.

However, Maglor makes sure that your time together never feels forced or obligatory. He disapproves of the constant reminder of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. He’s dedicated to making your marriage healthy and happy, erasing any memory of your freedom being taken away.

Inheriting his mother’s temperament, Maglor is a pillar of strength for your concerns and worries. If you ever feel like you’re falling short of the arrangement’s expectations, or if you’re fearful, confused, unhappy, or distant, he encourages you to confide in him without hesitation. After all, he’s your husband and should be your confidant.

The perk of living with Maglor is a home constantly filled with music and music sheets. You may grumble about the sheets being everywhere but his music room, but he melts away any tension by serenading you with songs dedicated to you. It’s his way of expressing his genuine affection and appreciation for having you in his life.

“I’d like to dedicate my next song to someone I’ve grown close to in such a short time. They’ve found their way into my heart, even if they’re not entirely aware of it. This song is for them, to show how much I truly care and consider them a dear part of my life. So, without further ado, my next piece is in honour of my wonderful spouse.”

Though he may put you on the spot, he hopes that you’ll be moved by his heartfelt dedication. He isn’t being manipulative; his intentions are sincere, and he genuinely appreciates having you in his life.

Among his brothers, Maglor stands out as the most understanding and the one who despises the mistreatment of the arranged marriage. He firmly shuts down conversations that dwell on the circumstances of how you ended up together and replaces them with whimsical tales of your imaginary first encounters. His theatrical skills come into play as he playfully flirts and teases you, creating a charming and flirtatious atmosphere.

Only when you’re comfortable, does he extend his hand or arm for you to hold, patiently listen to your conversations, or spend time planning extravagant surprises.

Throughout your marriage, Maglor’s primary aim is to provide comfort and eliminate any tension or discomfort. You’ll have a loving husband who will fiercely defend your marriage against anyone who challenges it.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celegorm

Another individual who defiantly scoffs at the arrangement, dismissing it because no one would dare challenge his freedom. Unfortunately, much to his discontent, the news proved true. As a result, he’s now in a fit of rage, flipping tables, and has disappeared for weeks, remaining unseen and unheard.

Tyelko isn’t present during the initial weeks of the arrangement, as he’s off wandering in the forest, complaining to Orome about the perceived unfairness of the situation. All the while, you are left alone in the new house. One can only imagine the shock he’ll experience upon his return.

His return is facilitated by Orome, who encourages him to give the arrangement a chance and approach it with an open mind. Thanks to Orome, your first meeting with Tyelko is relatively amicable, as he meets you standing in the doorway with a concerned expression on your face.

The look of concern you give him is unsettling for Tyelko, as he is accustomed to expecting anger for behaviour. Not knowing how to respond, he might inadvertently snap, making him come across as a jerk. This leads to you becoming reclusive to avoid triggering his temper, making his plan to scare you off fail.

Tyelko soon realises that you rarely speak or interact with him, leaving him to his own devices with homecooked meals and a comforting, caring tone. You even avoid making eye contact when he addresses you directly, leading him to conclude that you’re afraid or hate him.

“Why do you still treat me this way when I have been unpleasant? I don’t like it or enjoy how you look at me. Why must you still care for me when I have been unbothered? Are you manipulating me into feeling guilty? Because if that is the case, I can leave if it stops this unpleasant play. Just why are you still friendly with me?”

You could see the uneasiness in his posture prompting you to feel a sense of pity for neglecting an unheard-of side of him and the pleading tone makes you realise his sincerity. He genuinely wants to know how to end the discomfort in the house.

Accustomed to his harsh nature as described by others, you had found it difficult to imagine him being soft. It was a start in breaking the ice with your views and how you had perceived him to be during the arrangement. To which he scoffed at how you easily fell for the rumours of his roughness (he knows that he’s rough around the edges, but refuses to admit it).

Tyelko cautiously falls into the routine of becoming a caretaker alongside you since you gave him no reason to be hostile. All he can do is hope for the best. He’s still hesitant to let go of his freedom as it brings him peace of mind.

He eventually finds himself slowly warming up to the idea of you doing your best to understand and not readily judge. This eases the preconceived notions he had about you from the beginning. He thought your demeanour was all a façade to control him.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Caranthir

Two distinct reactions unfold the moment he’s abruptly brought up to speed with his situation: firstly, he swears, and secondly, he makes a swift attempt to escape the room. This was far from the life he had envisioned for himself, or any different from what his family had endured. He had heard of such unfortunate circumstances befalling others but never fathomed that he too would become a victim.

He seems rather brooding during the entire introduction, and he’s taken aback by the familiar expression mirrored on your face. He had assumed that you would be delighted, as many individuals often eagerly vie for the role of a prince’s spouse, particularly from the first house.

He remains quiet and distant, wanting to intensify your the distance between. Both of you share similar attitudes towards marriage and living habits, which results in minimal attempts at interaction, with each of you occupying different ends of the house.

Polite greetings are given from your end while he silently grumbles and mutters incomprehensible phrases. You take it as a sign that he doesn’t wish to communicate. Though at times, you tend to feel the weight of his gaze on you, and if you catch him staring, he quickly averts his gaze, returning to his displeasure state.

It’s a significant challenge for him to partially embrace the role of a suitable husband, given the constant reminder of the unexpected circumstances that brought you together. Expressing himself has always been a struggle when in times of comfort forsaken, leading to Caranthir muttering his words grumpily.

“I’m not quite certain how to put this into words, but I want us to be on the same page during this arrangement. So, I’d like to know your expectations and views of me. This way, if I am to avoid you or limit our interactions to prevent any discomfort or tension, I can meet them.”

It’s not an easy task for him to forge a tiny connection when the circumstances makes it daring. He has to be mindful of his temper while closely observing your reactions to his actions. He critically assesses every aspect and draws conclusions accordingly.

When in his own environment and free from intrusion, he attempts to gradually involve you in his world by silently inviting you through non-verbal gestures. You have to get use to the fact that he doesn’t appreciate talking too much. This can offer insight into his true self, allowing you to connect more deeply.

However, as your relationship with Caranthir continues to develop, there are bound to be ups and downs, especially when dealing with his outbursts triggered by various factors or his siblings’ relentless teasing. One way to show your appreciation for your place beside him is by coming to his defence.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Curufin

I’d like to say he’s Feanor 2.0 in terms of his ideas and approach. However, since it’s Feanor orchestrating the arrangement, Curufin is fully on board and understands his father’s perspective on the benefits. I mean, he’s just as competitive as his father, which is the primary reason behind this arrangement.

Curufin perceives this as a political strategy that he must honour and uphold. From the day you met him, he has had no hesitation in stepping forward and reminding you of the duties you must fulfil as his spouse and the newest member of his household. Your loyalty to him must be unwavering.

Although your initial impression of him left you thinking he was controlling and demanding, all Curufin desires from you, aside from his earlier requests, is your comfort and happiness while living with him. You want to expand your house, sure. You desire a spacious backyard, certainly. You hope for more gifts, without a doubt. If you want to discuss your feelings, he’ll make an effort. If you need space, he’s willing to compromise.

I’m serious about this one; you’ll need to compromise with him if you want your own space—by that, I mean wanting to live separately. If you want separate rooms, he can work with that. Curufin has proper etiquette when it comes to the comfort of those he holds dear.

His top priority is to treat his spouse with the utmost care and respect, ensuring all your needs are met. The only thing he asks is that you don’t take advantage of his vulnerability and exert undue control over him.

“As your husband, it is my duty to ensure that all your needs are met, and in return, I expect the same from you. Whatever you require, please come forward and inform me; there’s no need to conceal your desires. Lay them on the table, and we can work on them together as we were intended to do. I also request that you maintain your dignity and pride when it comes to our new household and family, and everything will go smoothly. Furthermore, I ask that you don’t exploit my kindness and keep our personal life within the confines of our home.”

The entire arrangement may sound controlling and suffocating, but Curufin allows you your freedom. He believes in reciprocity—what he wants for himself, he’s willing to provide in return. He puts in his utmost effort to meet your needs, as long as you show the same enthusiasm.

When he attends an event, his greatest desire is for you to accompany him. He takes pride in showcasing his craftsmanship through the pieces he has created especially for you. He spends hours crafting an array of jewellery to match your preferences.

The surprising aspect of this marriage is his firm stance on conversations concerning your arrangement and your relationship. Everyone is aware of it, but he doesn’t allow others to discuss it, not even his brothers. He sees you as his spouse with the arrangement being a thing of the past.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amrod

Much like Tyelko, Amrod possesses a rebellious spirit, often disappearing when the harsh reality of his situation becomes too apparent. When he does, it’s typically in search of his mother’s advice and assistance. His primary concern is unravelling the mystery of his father’s role in this arranged marriage. Sadly, his suspicions are confirmed as Nerdanel had no say in the matter; it was entirely Feanor’s competitive nature that drove it.

His mother’s invaluable advice to him was to make the best of the situation and take time to get to know you before making any serious commitments. She became his go–to source of guidance whenever he found himself in a tight spot.

Fast forward to the time when he meets you, he’s fully aware that you aren’t thrilled about the arrangement and even contemplated an escape before the introduction. It hurt to hear that you were reluctant to give him a chance, as he was open to doing so. This prompted his dedication to ensuring that the time you spent with him was worthwhile.

Much like Maglor, he’s determined to fill your days with joy and dispel the clouds of resentment, all while maintaining a respectful distance to avoid overstepping any boundaries. Whenever your responses leave him puzzled, he frequently seeks advice from his mother.

Simultaneously, he avoids his father due to his disgust at being essentially bartered like a commodity for his father’s satisfaction. Any discussion related to his marriage is swiftly shut down, and he walks away. He has no interest in hearing comments or mockery about the arrangement.

However, there’s no need to worry because he receives guidance from his mother. If you wish to converse with him, he encourages you to speak openly and share your thoughts without fear. He wants to hear your perspective on things.

“Please understand that I may not be the most well–known among my siblings, and you may have heard little about me. Nonetheless, please don’t hesitate to express your thoughts. While we may not be romantically involved or incredibly close, I will do my utmost to work towards a harmonious relationship. Please give me the opportunity to build something prosperous between us.”

Amrod is dedicated to establishing a secure friendship between the two of you before any romantic involvement comes into play. He aims to create a space where you can feel comfortable and relaxed without the weight of the arranged marriage hanging over your heads. There’s no rush, and you both have the time to sort out your duties and positions as your friendship grows.

Throughout your journey from friendship to romance, Amrod maintains a gentlemanly demeanour. Though you may encounter some challenges along the way, they will be infrequent. Your relationship won’t be flawless, as it’s impossible to forget that you were both thrust into this arrangement without your consent. However, it’s something you can bond over and find common ground to overcome your fears.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Amras

The quieter of the two siblings, Amras, maintains his silence even when informed of his situation. His irritation is clearly visible on his face, which leaves you anxious about what to anticipate. He reserves his complaints for private conversations with his twin and mother, all due to his father’s insistence on marriage, which he feels is encroaching on his freedom.

Amras’s silence remains constant from the moment you first met him. Your relationship is marred by a sense of being strangers living under the same roof. He refrains from even greeting you, still seething over the situation and pondering how to express his anger.

Despite his understanding that you played no part in arranging this engagement, Amras can’t prevent his anger from simmering. It’s not directed at you but rather at both sets of parents for their low regard for both of you. Amras struggles to find a way to communicate his feelings without intimidating you.

Amras notices your tendency to distance yourself whenever you’re in the same room with him or when you shrink under his silently judgmental gaze. Your eyes rarely meet his, and when they do, you quickly look away. Your actions make him feel as though he has harmed you or been hostile towards you at some point.

“Could it be that you...resent me for the circumstances that have come between us? You hardly speak to me even when I desire it, fearing rejection and silence. I can sense your anger over what your parents have done, and I share that anger. Perhaps we could attempt to build something together, starting as acquaintances and moving from there.”

His voice breaks, and he likely breaks down, allowing you to witness his vulnerability as he cries. He’s confused and doesn’t know what to do. All he wants is your guidance and support to navigate the storm he’s been thrust into. You are the only lifeline in the ocean he can rely on, just as you rely on him.

Amras may appear somewhat awkward, much like Caranthir, as he observes you in your element, awed by your ability to remain resolute. He is eager to assist and hopes that you will show him what is expected of him, as he has few memories of his parents’ dynamics and relationships.

His primary goal is to become the best husband possible for you, but he first wants to establish a basic foundation and compatibility. He follows you like an eager puppy, observing your features and silently appreciating your beauty. He feels fortunate to have ended up with someone good.

˖ ࣪. ࿐♡˚. Celebrimbor

The moment those words escape his advisor’s lips, he feels a strong urge to toss them out the window. The idea of following his family’s tradition makes Tyelpë shudder. He neither desires marriage nor believes he’s capable of being a great husband, haunted as he is by his old life. He fears that others assume he will repeat his family’s mistakes.

Despite his personal reservations, he acknowledges the political necessity of the situation for the betterment of his kingdom. Consequently, he has no choice but to go with the flow and bear the burden. Upon being introduced to you, he maintains a stiff demeanour, silently repeating to himself, “Don’t mess up, don’t scare them.”

His conduct in this moment is heavily influenced by the obligation he feels toward the prosperity of his people, even though he resents it. Tyelpë can’t help but grind his teeth at the thought, as he believes there must be alternative ways to improve his homeland. However, like everyone else except Feanor, Tyelpe is reserved, observant, and respectful. He listens to you chatter on about the benefits of unifying both kingdoms while silently stewing in his own thoughts.

Polite and approachable, he makes an effort to ensure you don’t feel alienated by his role as your future husband. He respects your boundaries and the need for distance between you, given that you are still strangers.

“Please do not harbour any ill feelings toward me for the choices I’ve made to secure myself. We are still in the process of getting to know each other, and my intentions are far from ostracising you. The concept of an arranged marriage and warming up to a stranger from a distant land is still a challenge for me. I have much to learn, so I ask for your patience.”

During the pre–courtship period before your marriage, Tyelpë is a gentleman and crafts small trinkets as tokens of his growing fondness for you. These may include a hairpin, hair comb, bracelet, earrings, or a simple pendant necklace. He saves the more extravagant designs for when he becomes more accustomed to his role as your partner.

While you need not fear his temper, he kindly requests that you refrain from flaunting your relationship in public, even though everyone is aware of the arrangement. Tyelpë values his privacy and would be disappointed if his personal life became a topic of discussion.

Be prepared to spend nights alone in bed, as he isn’t yet comfortable sharing his personal space. He might suggest having separate chambers until some time has passed and he’s warmed up to the idea of closer proximity. He simply asks for your understanding, as his reclusive tendencies are his source of comfort.

The only potential challenge you may face is his reclusive behaviour persisting for a longer period than expected. He is aware that you may eventually come to terms with being paired with him, but he struggles with it. There are unresolved issues from his past that he needs to address before fully embracing someone new in his life.

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[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi anon for kiss 6 here! Can I change the character to Maedhros if you write for him and Finrod if you don’t? Thank you!!

Image from Unsplash

I actually don’t write for any of Fëanor’s son’s, but I’ll take up the challenge for this request.

Prompt 6 out of the kiss prompt list: on a falling tear.

Pairing: Maedhros x Reader (elf | second person POV)

Themes : Angst

Warnings : Kissing

Minors DNI | 18+ | Rules and tag form here.  

Summary : Maedhros has to leave you after having sworn an oath to retrieve the Silmarils.

There was no going back now. Maedhros had sworn the dreaded oath and pledged his sword. He would follow his father to Middle-Earth and beyond to find the Silmarils and strike down anyone who stood in their way.

This was more than you could bear. "This is folly!" you said, even as tears ran down your face. "The Valar will not forgive this. You and your kin may never be able to return!"   Maedhros continued to arm and armor himself. "The Valar will do nothing," he answered gravely, and turned to face you. "My grandsire has been slain and the silmarils stolen, yet they expect us to wait while they dither, and Morgoth laughs at us all."   "So you will honor the vow you made with your father?"   "To the last letter."   "What about your vows to me?" you plead, hoping to sway him. Your head swam dizzily, and you realized, with a sudden start of fear, that if Maedhros left, you may never see him again. "Do they mean nothing to you?"   "They mean everything to me." Maedhros tried to harden his heart but failed. There were many things he would willingly bear, but not your tears. He came to you, his boots barely making a sound while he crossed the stone floor. Maedhros slid his arms around you, burying his face in your hair as he always did. "But I must see this through. I will return, I promise. Then we can finally wed and start our lives together."   He drew back just a little and studied your face. It wounded him to see you grieve so deeply. "Have faith in me," he said, and leaned in. His lips brushed over one tear, and the other, and the other. "We will be together again, I promise."    You slid your arms around his broad waist and shivered. There will be no hero's welcome, no tender reunion. You saw his doom as clear as glass. Maedhros was never coming back.

[venerable-sun]

Stay (Maedhros x Reader)

Maedhros (The Silmarillion) x Reader

TW: Mentions of pregnancy, very mild spice at the end

Summary: Unexpected news results in Maedhros pleading for your forgiveness

2.2k~ words

There are some days where you can almost pretend like everything is back to normal. 

Those are the days when you can convince Maehdros to venture outside through a walk in the gardens, him walking quietly beside you while you chatter away. Anything to keep the silence that would otherwise enshroud the two of you at bay. Those are the days that you awake before Maedhros can slip out of bed, the hard planes of his face softened from their usual glower and the shadows of the young elf you married all those years ago reappearing to remind you why you have stayed with him through everything. Those are the days when you catch his eye from across the dinner table; when you smile at him, he almost smiles back. 

But those days are few and far between, in the years after Maedhors’ imprisonment in Angband. 

Most days, you awake in the middle of the night to screaming. Maedhros’ face twists in terror as he grasps the sheets tightly in the fist of his good hand. All you can do is sit and watch in despair as his nightmares torment him, having learned long ago its best not to wake him, lest you wish to get attacked by your husband’s fright before he realizes where he is.

Most days, you walk your gardens alone or with one of your handmaidens. Even on the days that you can convince Maedhros to accompany you, you never walk hand in hand as you had Before. In fact, it’s rare that he ever touches you anymore outside of when his anger and frustration at his affliction bubbles over, and you open your legs for him to take you as he wishes. It is not the tender lovemaking you used to share. It is rough and full of fury, and when it is over Maedhros can barely look at you. Yet, you never complain, not when it is the only solace you can now provide for your broken husband. 

There are times when you feel as if you are drowning in the loneliness that comes with loving Maedhros. Before, it had been the two of you against the world. You would have followed him anywhere, done anything just to be with him. And you had. He’d pledged to lead you to a place where you could one day raise a family of your own. You remember how brightly he used to talk of the future, the home the two of you would create. ‘A big enough home to raise seven children, just like my father,’ he’d said with a wink. 

Now, you walk on eggshells around him, terrified that a wrong look or word could set him off. 

That was why when Maglor and the remainder of his people sought refuge in your husband's lands, you were ecstatic. You’d hoped that being so near one of his brothers would help Maedhros. Turns out, it helped you even more. 

You’d always been closest with Maglor out of all of the brothers, but his extended stay brought you two even closer. You bonded over your mutual love of music, and many afternoons were spent in the gardens playing and singing together. 

~~~

You awoke one morning with a slight sickness, running quickly to the bathroom and emptying your stomach of its contents. Residual nausea made your gait slightly crooked as you crawled back into bed, electing to rest for just a little longer before you got on with your duties for the day. 

Maedhros was already long-gone, his side of the bed empty and cold. 

When your handmaiden came to fetch you, you were feeling much better. You chalked up your strange sickness to something you’d eaten for dinner and made a mental note to request an herbal tea later just in case. By the end of the day, it was all but forgotten, and you thought nothing of it as you laid down for bed that night. 

But then the next morning, you got sick again. And the morning after that one. 

On the fourth day, you finally took yourself to the healers. If you truly were falling ill, you wanted to put a stop to it as soon as possible. You’d run Maedhros’s lordship whilst he had been captured, and even upon his return kept many of the extra responsibilities so as to not burden him further. You couldn’t risk letting yourself fall even more ill.

You wished you could feel nothing but joy about the news the healers shared with you. 

Of course, you were happy. You and Maedhros had always talked fondly of having your own family, filling your household with as many little ones as possible. But that was Before, and you couldn’t help the worry that twisted through your gut at what his reaction to your pregnancy would be now. 

All day you agonized over how to tell him, going about your duties with half your mind wandering over the endless possibilities. Maglor noticed your distracted state instantly when you met him in the gardens that day, but gratefully never commented on it.

And so you decided to wait until Maedhros returned to your chambers for the night, pacing anxiously as you waited for him. 

You turned as the door opened. Your husband looked at you with faint surprise. “Usually you are asleep at this hour.” 

You fiddled with the flowy sleeves of your night-robe. “I wished to speak with you.” 

“Get on with it then.” 

Maedhros took a seat before the fire, leaning over to untie the laces of his boots. 

You swallowed your annoyance at his flippancy, taking a deep breath as you prepared to speak. “I am with child.” 

Grey eyes instantly snapped up to meet your own. “What did you just say?” 

You swallowed again, hard. “I said I am with child.” 

In a flash, Maedhros was towering over you, making you back away from the anger swirling in his eyes. 

“I should have known that you would betray me,” he hissed. “I just never thought it would be with my own brother.” 

Your mouth fell open in shock. “What!?”

Your husband scoffed at you, rolling his eyes as he leaned close to your face. “Please, don’t bother with the innocent act. I’ve seen you together, I’ve seen how much time you spend with him.” 

You began to shake with fury, all the anger and hurt you had pushed down over the years in favor of not upsetting him finally bubbling to the surface. 

“How dare you!” You burst out, pushing Maedhros away from you. “You barely even look at me anymore, much less treat me as your wife, and you accuse me of being unfaithful!?” 

You turned away from him, angry tears spilling over your cheeks as you head towards the door. A grip around your wrist whips you back around to face the ellon, one that doesn’t falter even as you try to break free from his hold. 

“Do not turn your back to me,” he growled. 

Just like that, all the anger in you dissipated, leaving you deflated and hollow. “I never have, even after all this time.” You said softly. “I have done everything in my power to help you, to heal you. And it isn’t enough. What you went through was horrible-” Maedhros winced, but you paid no mind to it. The words kept tumbling out, an unstoppable gush of feeling you wouldn’t be able to stop even if you wanted to. “-but I will not allow you to treat me like this any longer. Nor will I subject our child to the same fate. Come find me when you decide you want to be a husband and father again. ” 

You gently tugged your wrist away from him, and his hand fell back limply to his side as he watched you walk away. You paused at the door, waiting to see if he would stop you. Praying that he would. 

Don’t let me walk away, Mae. 

A handful of excruciatingly quiet seconds slipped by, and you exited, making it about halfway down the hall before the sobs you’d barely been holding back started to shake your shoulders.

~~~

Life for you continued much in the way it had. 

You went to bed and woke up alone, took your meals alone, and walked the gardens alone. 

You went about your duties with the same quiet dignity as always, refusing to let any slips in your composure crack. Your entire world had shifted, even more than when Maitimo had disappeared and then returned a shell of who he once was. You had a child to think about now, and no one to share in this new world with you. 

You had told no one else but your chief handmaiden of your pregnancy, unable to stomach the congratulations you would receive when all you really wanted was your husband back. You and Maedhros hadn’t spoken outside of curt words in passing in over three weeks, and soon you would inevitably start to show. 

If he could barely stand the sight of you now, then how would he react when he saw the physical proof of your child? You knew he would never raise his hand against you, but you feared his wrath, and even more feared exposing your child to it.

Therefore you came to the decision that you would leave Himring and travel to Doriath to stay with your family. They would be delighted to help you care for your child, and you knew your younger sister Luthien would especially enjoy having a little one to cause trouble with.

You made arrangements for your travels quietly, not wanting to cause a fuss for your husband even after everything. You wished that you could just hate him and move on, but you knew that you would always love Maedhros. Your fea had been bound, you’d been married for centuries- left your home in Doriath for him. 

And now he will never know his child, you thought to yourself. Various packed bags littered your chambers as you prepared to depart the next morning. 

A soft knock came from the door. Thinking it to be your handmaiden, who would be accompanying you on the journey, you called out for them to enter. 

Maehdros entered slowly, gaze flitting from the bags packed to the pile of clothes you had been in the process of folding. He stood in the center of the room, looking simultaneously too big and too small for the space. 

“So it’s true then. You plan to leave for Doriath.” 

You nodded hesitantly, not quite sure what emotion to read in his swirling grey eyes. “Yes, My Lord. I leave at first light. You will not be bothered by my presence anymore.” 

Maedhros took a step forward, hand outstretched towards you. He winced when you took a step back from him, arm falling limply to his side. 

“I have made a horrible mistake. I said things to you in anger that I should not have.” 

You raised a single eyebrow, unimpressed. 

Your husband looked at you with more emotion than you had seen in years. “You showed me kindness and understanding even when I did not deserve it. Even when I have not been a good husband to you.”

And then the Lord of Himring, eldest son of Feanor dropped to his knees at your feet, tears streaming from his eyes. “I know I do not deserve your forgiveness. If you still decide to leave I will not stop you. But I beg you, stay and give me the chance to be the husband that you deserve.” 

He reached out a shaky hand to lightly trail over your abdomen. “Give me the chance to be the father our child deserves.” 

Your composure crumbled as you embraced him, your tears mixing with his as you held each other. You pulled away after a while, eyes still moist as you stared at each other. “I am still so angry with you. It will take more than one apology to mend this.” You said, causing Maedhros to bow his head in shame. You smile softly, tilting his chin up with your fingers. “But I know how you can begin to make it right.” 

His lips brushed against yours tentatively, like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings, before pressing firmly against your mouth in a kiss that stole your breath away. His tongue traced against your bottom lip before diving in to tangle with your own. Your hands wove through the red strands of his hair as you lost yourself in him for the first time in what felt like centuries. 

When the two of you finally pulled away you were both panting, and the sight of your husband’s smile stole your breath away all over again. 

He picked you up in his arms and carried you to the bed, nestling you against his chest as you laid down together. He splayed his good hand over your abdomen once more, the warmth of it seeping into your skin and lulling you to sleep. The last thing you felt before you completely succumbed to slumber was a feather-light kiss pressed to your temple. 

Maedhros slowly drifted off with you in his arms, silently vowing to himself to never hurt you ever again. And that was how your handmaiden found the two of you hours later when she came to check on you. She took in the sight of her lord and lady together once more with a sigh of relief, softly closing the door behind her and leaving the two of you to your much-needed rest. 

Don't forget to like and reblog! My requests are open, see my pinned post for more details.

[heavenlayt]

Irmo is so cute!

Tolkien characters when they’re s/o falls asleep in their lap? Amazing work as always❤️

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ tolkien characters ⠀〳 reader⠀ ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. thranduil, legolas, mairon, melkor, manwë, irmo, námo and fëanor's reaction when their s/o falls asleep in their lap

· ⊰ note. absolutely! thank you <3

( masterlist ) ( taglist form )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ THRANDUIL 

ʚ He had promised to be with you in a moment, he just wished to finish a few more things and then would pay all of his attention to you. Thranduil allowed you to cuddle up in his lap while he worked 

ʚ Wouldn’t realise you fell asleep until after he finished and called out your name - but received no response 

ʚ Feels a little bad when he sees that you ended up falling asleep. Did he really take that long?

ʚ He slowly picks you up, putting you under the covers and pulling you to his chest 

ʚ Plays with your hair a little before he too falls asleep 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLEGOLAS 

ʚ You were both stargazing. Legolas was rambling on about some quest and as intrigued as you were - you couldn’t help but fall asleep to the sound of his voice 

ʚ He would notice fairly quickly. At first trying to keep you awake as he wished to spend more time with you - but when he saw how precious you looked with your sleeping expression, he decided against it 

ʚ Doesn’t get up, instead admiring how you snuggled up into him, the moon shining down on your face, you looked so peaceful 

ʚ Probably leans down and peppers little kisses to your face, before bringing you closer and also falling asleep beneath the stars 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMAIRON 

ʚ He let you sit in his lap whilst he worked on his eyeliner as you had wished to learn a thing or too. You tried to pay attention, to listen to his little instructions - but he was just so warm. You ended up drifting off 

ʚ Mairon was a little irritated over the fact that you fell asleep whilst he was trying to teach you something 

ʚ Probably even had half a mind to wake you up. He moves to shake you awake but immediately freezes up with the way you snuggle up into his chest and breathe his name out in comfort 

ʚ He’s still, trying to wonder why that alone gave him so much butterflies. But he pushed the thought aside, wrapped his arms around you and admired your sleeping form 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMELKOR 

ʚ He was on his throne with you in his lap. Not particularly doing anything as he was a little busy talking to one of his subjects. Melkor is much bigger than you in size so you always felt quite comfortable within his lap - so much so that you fell asleep 

ʚ Only takes notice when the person leaves and he turns to speak to you but receives no answer. A part of him almost thinks that you’re ignoring him 

ʚ Practically shakes you awake - only to hear your whine before you huff, snuggle into his chest and fall back asleep 

ʚ That’s when he realised that he more or less woke you up. He remains still, unsure whether he should take you back to the room or wake you up again 

ʚ He’s so unsure that he just ends up staying there, arms around you. Did you feel so safe with him that you would fall asleep on him? He quite liked that thought 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤMANWË

ʚ You were cuddling up to him after a long day, and he returned them all gladly. He often sang to you when you’ve had a rough day and that’s exactly what he did now - how couldn’t you fall asleep?

ʚ He almost felt his heart explode when he felt you limp into him and nuzzle into his chest. He glances down to confirm his theory and yes - you were asleep 

ʚ Smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your head, calling you his perfect little dove before wrapping his wings around you to provide even more comfort 

ʚ Stays there with you, not necessarily falling asleep and rather continuing his little lullaby. Most likely puts off a duty or two, telling Eonwe to handle them. How could he give up this little bundle of joy in his arms?

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ IRMO 

ʚ He was braiding your hair whilst you told him about your day. Needless to say you were rather exhausted and just wanted to cuddle up to your dreamy ( literally ) boyfriend 

ʚ Seeing as how distressed you were, Irmo allowed his powers to come into play whilst he spoke to you. Sowing a little sedative in his words to try and bring your form into slumber - and it worked 

ʚ He doesn’t usually use this on you much, but today you were practically fighting to stay awake despite your evident exhaustion, he couldn’t allow you to neglect yourself 

ʚ Brings you into his arms, peppers a few kisses along your neck before curling up in the little spot in his garden to take a nice long nap with you 

ʚ Spooning! Irmo absolutely loves it. You fit so perfectly with him 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ NÁMO 

ʚ He took you along to a little meeting with his maiar, not exactly expecting it to drag on for so long. You always felt most comfortable in his lap - and ended up falling asleep before the end of it 

ʚ Námo only really noticed when one of his maia points out and takes a few moments to stare down at your sleeping form. Half not knowing what to do, half silently admiring 

ʚ He ends the meeting after a few more moments, leaving his subjects a little surprised - but pleasantly so when they saw him standing to his feet and scooping you up in his arms 

ʚ Tries his hardest not to wake you - and when you stir he lowers his typically intimidating and deep voice to hush you back to sleep 

ʚ He takes you back to his resting chamber and finds his bed, not once removing you from his lap

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤFËANOR 

ʚ Let you sit in his lap whilst he sketched out some designs for forging new weapons. He was explaining to you the process and rambling on about the craft that he adored so much - you almost felt bad for falling asleep, but how could you not when listening to his voice and heartbeat?

ʚ Saw that you had fallen asleep and stopped everything he was doing in an instant - should he feel offended that you fell asleep?

ʚ He wanted to, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so. Not with how adorable you looked snuggling up to his chest 

ʚ Fëanor curses a little under his breath - he’s going soft. But the smile on his lips would tell anyone that he did not mind, especially if it was for you

ʚ Places everything down and wraps his arms around you, watching the fire in his forge whilst he rests his chin on your head and murmurs how much he loves you 

taglist — @kiatheinsomniac @augustwithquills @blueberryrock @a-chaotic-dumbass @m-shade @nerdydcfan @flowerchildishere @camilomyshiningsun @bugnug @algae-rave @snakesofindia-sursesaji @theroguemaia @heraluthor @pinkslashersimp @the-girl-king @qwerty-19923 @livialounalamontagne @perwaineintsomi @yellowbadgermole @spoopy-fish-writes @itsdameron @aeonianarchives @rurifangirl @tumblertatiana-blog

[jetiisyandereclones]

Adar x reader

Alright, The Rings of Power fic that absolutely no one asked for, because the interrogation of Adar had me in a death grip.

Spoilers under the cut.

Warnings:

POTENTIAL SPOILERS

Adar x (f)reader

(F)Reader insert, MC (main character)

(F)Character of no description

Smut (semi public)

Nudity

Mentions of blood and injury

Manipulation

This works on the theory that Adar is Maglor, second son of Feanor, with my own idea that he was alive during the Quest to Erebor, meeting reader in the Misty Mountains after she was separated from the company

After its revealed he’s an escaped prisoner that the Elves had been hunting for years, MC goes to him. She refuses to believe what he’s done for her. All the times he’s helped her and saved her had been a lie. A manipulation.

She couldn’t believe that.

—————————————————————————————————————————

The Uruk looks up at her. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears. Not unusual.

Strangely, he always looks like he’s about to cry. No matter what his emotions may be. But this time he looked much closer to crying than normal.

Mc eyed the black blood drying and flaking on the side of his head. It was from the blow the wizard dealt him when he tried to run. MC kept her eyes on the wound, staunchly refusing to look him in the eye. Another one he wouldn’t have if not for her.

She had been in pursuit when her borrowed horse hit a root and fell, breaking his neck from the fall, trapping her beneath him. Adar had stopped, looking towards the caves before turning back. Prying the horse off of her.

Amazingly, she had avoided injury, and was looking over her. Trying to pull her up. Pick her up.

MC knew she couldn’t do this. He was her friend, she thought.

She couldn’t be the one to stop him, to imprison him. shes far too attached to see him in chains on her account.

“Go. Just, please go. I won’t stop you. But they will!”

Adar looked over her, watching the horizon as he heard howling and hoof beats in the distance, coming ever closer.

“No. I followed you here. I will not give you up now.”

MC squirmed in his arms, trying to fight against his strengthening grip on her body.

“Are you mad?! They’ll kill you!”

Adar was about to retort when he was struck with what looked like a bolt of lightning. Knocking him out and opening a large gash on his temple. Gandalf had been in closer pursuit than he had thought.

Adar fell to the ground, his body crushing MC below him, knocking the breath out of her.

After that day, he was shackled in a tent outside of camp. They had dragged him back and left him there to bleed and starve while they tried to contact the Lady Galadriel.

He had been her prisoner for years and years before he escaped. And by all accounts she was eager to have him in her cells once again.

MC was left to deal with her own conflict. She needed to see him. Talk to him, against everyone’s wishes, especially Thorin’s.

But MC payed them no mind, she had her own quest to find answers, and she would complete it.

Taking a bucket of hot water and a clean rag, along with some antiseptic soap, she made her way to her supposed ‘friends’ cell, entering without so much as a warning, but he showed no shock, if anything, he seemed to relax a little in her presence.

Looking up at her, at the soap in her hands as she put down the bucket, kneeling next to him.

Adar chuckled wryly.

“How hospitable of my enemies to allow me the materials to bath. They are most generous captors indeed.”

MC’s face warmed a little at his speculation.

“Those enemies are my people, my friends and allies. Family even. By association that makes me your enemy too.”

Adar tilted his head back and to the side, a brow arched slightly and a small smirk twisting his features.

“Narrow mindedness is unbecoming of you, Sunlight.”

MC wrung her wash cloth out with a little extra aggression, agitated at the Uruk’s apparent lack of care, even amusement at his predicament, at her.

“Lies and deceit don’t suit you. Besides, they didn’t want me to come here. Unsurprisingly The King and The Elves would much rather see you die from infection. There are guards outside to, in Thorin’s words, ensure I'm not damaged while wasting supplies.”

Adar hummed. His distaste for her company apparent, as it always had been from the start.

“And these are the ones you call allies, friends and family? You are far too giving in your good will. And in any case, how did you procure the supplies if I was forbade from their use? Did the good girl steal them on my own account? I’m flattered.”

MC curled her lip at his mocking, stinging words.

She was well aware that she was seen as being ‘too soft hearted’ for the quest, an image she had done everything to prove wrong. Not that it mattered now, Adar had successfully undone any progress she had made to try and prove herself worthy of ‘The King under the Mountain’s Company.

“You have no right to condemn my ‘good will’ not as the current main receiver of it. Keep in mind it is my ‘Good will’ that keeps you alive right now. And for your information, the supplies are my own. He can’t dictate how I use my own property.”

MC carefully dabs the lathered up cloth against the mans head a little too roughly to be a mistake, expecting him to hiss at the contact. He doesn't blink, staring at her with what she would almost call affection.

“Thank you.” Adar whispered softly, sensing MC’s agitation.

“Huh?” MC questioned, having distracted herself from the conversation by cleaning his head wound.

Adar looked at her, his eyes seemingly sincere.

“I know your will has kept me fed and sheltered these past months. And I am grateful.”

MC nodded, not knowing what to say. Instead she decided to focus on his head wound, the black blood had long stopped and all that was left was to clean his face.

A few minutes passed, MC had moved on from his wound, cleansing his entire face. Adar couldn’t suppress a shiver at the gentle attention she showed his lips.

But it wasn’t meant to last and finally, MC broke the silence.

“Why are you doing this?”

Adar shrugged slightly, rattling chains emphasising the small movement.

“It’s been an age since someone cared for me like this. It feels nice”

MC narrowed her eyes, not in the mood for the Uruk’s games.

“No, Not that. Why are you still here. You could have escaped into the mountains, but you chose to help me.”

“I recall a vow made to ensure no harm came to you. Had I left you there, you would have been devoured by wolves before the wizard could find you.”

MC looked down at the bloodied rag in her hands.

“I wasn’t aware you took your vows so seriously.”

Adar looked sharply at her.

“There’s not much I can still claim to have, but for you, I could discover the last bit of honour in my heart. For you, I will always keep my word.”

MC didn’t say anything, the sheer sincerity and intensity forming a pit if anxiety in her stomach.

Rising the rag of the rancid blood, she looked down at the slightly brown water, then eyed the rest of Adar. Standing up MC went to the entrance of the tent, calling for another 3 buckets from the pot she had boiled at her own campsite

The guards, reluctant and begrudging as they were, agreed to it.

Adar tilted his head at the younger woman.

MC looked back at Adar, noticing his quizzical expression.

“You’re filthy. Do you want me to leave? I can leave the soap if you-”

Adars hand shot out. Making MC jump at his grip.

Slowly he brought her hand up to his shirt, his armour long stripped from his body. The Uruk pressed MC’s hand over his heart. He felt warm under her palm.

“Stay, please.”

MC nodded, throat dry. She took her slightly shaking hand away to slide a bag around to his side. He hadn’t even noticed she had it.

Adar gestured to the bag

“What’s in that?”

MC looked down at where Adar was staring.

“A gift from an old friend of yours. Apparently from before your days as an orc.”

Adar froze, his only movement was the flutter of his eyelids as he looked up and into empty space, mind 1000 miles away.

“Elrond…” He whispered, his eye twitching a little.

MC nodded.

The emotional storm behind Adar’s eyes broke slightly. A single tear slid down his face and she didn’t know if he was angry, sad, jealous, or elated.

She could only describe his expressions the mounting emotions of a thousand years of loneliness and longing.

MC quickly wiped the tear away as the guard came back with the water.

She told the guard him and the others they could go. There was no danger here for her. They hesitated, but eventually complied, having no desire to remain in the corrupted elf’s stench.

Once they were gone, Adar confirming they were back at camp, MC slowly started to cleanse his head and upper torso, starting with his greasy hair, massaging the scalp and loosely tying it up so it didn’t get in the way.

She swore she heard him purr as she rubbed behind his ear. Then working her way down his neck she hit his shoulders, blocked from view by his shirt.

MC couldn’t get it off. Not with his chains. So instead she reached into her skirt, procuring a small dagger. She held it up to the light, showing him the gleaming blade, allowing him to keep it in his sights.

“I'm just going to cut that shirt off okay. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Her face was burning with the implications of her words. MC knew for a fact they were not lost on Adar either, if his sighed laugh was anything to go by.

“Oh sunlight. My body is yours to do what you want with.”

MC nearly choked at this. Both the words, and the fact he seemed so genuine. Even going so far as to lean back, his head tilted to rest against the pole he was tied to, his neck open to her. Completely vulnerable as he closed his eyes to enjoy the woman’s hands working over him

Adar felt the tell tale coldness of steel against his skin,, heard the tear of his filthy undershirt being cut, then the tug of the woman tearing it off. However it took longer to get the shirt off than she thought.

The material was old, but thick and sturdy. It did not tear easy. But MC was determined to have him bare chested.

After several minutes of cutting and ripping in the wrong places, his Sunlight finally managed to get the shirt, Which was now reduced to ribbons, off of him.

She was panting a little from the effort and Adar couldn’t help but smirk a little. He could have told her where to cut, or even offered to rip his shirt off himself.

But what fun was that?

Trying to get her breathing under control, MC went to get her rag, dipping it in the dirty, but still usable water.

She’d get rid of most of the grime with the dirtied water, before cleaning him fully with the cooling clean water.

MC soaped up the rag, and approached the man. She truly did think of him as a friend, but she had to admit.

He stank.

The smell of the road, sweat, blood and orc all over him. Kneeling in front of his pallid, scarred, but still very strong chest, MC decided it was safest to work on his arms first.

Somewhere neutral.

Or so she thought.

He was grabby. Flirty even.

Whenever she brought the soapy rag close to his hand, he'd grab at her, entwining their fingers only fro her to have to untangle herself from him to move on.

His affections did not dim as she moved to his neck and chest.

She stuttered a little when it came to cleaning his chest. The intimacy spooking her, but swallowed and continued on.

If he was displeased by her contact, he wasn’t showing it, preferring instead to just watch her, a hand resting on the floor next to her thigh.

Sometimes he flexed and stretched his fingers, to whatever memory had captured his mind and occasionally, she felt them brush against the skirt of her dress.

Despite the fact that she had him shirtless before her, his chest out on full display, these light touches made her breath catch more than the sight of his broad shoulders.

And if she didn’t know better, shed say he was doing it on purpose, reaching for her through the haze of his daydreams.

Eventually she was done with his chest and back, a massage having coaxed sweet whines and moans from him. The kinds of which she hadn’t heard a man produce before.

The ones she had gotten so close with had been guarded, too concerned with appearing in control that they hadn’t allowed themselves to enjoy her own touches.

An issue that doesn’t seem to effect the man in front of her.

Moving out from behind his back and gently laying him back to lean against the pole, she was faced with another issue...

What was she going to do with his lower body? She couldn’t possibly just undress him fully...

Could she?

Adar noticed the woman’s dilemma and decided to put her out of her misery.

“You may remove them.”

MC snapped her face up to his.

“Huh?”

“I am giving you permission to undress me, lay me bare and Finnish your mission of cleaning me.”

MC swallowed hard, her face warming at an alarming rate.

“Uh, all of you?”

She really didn’t want to gesture down at the bulge between his legs, but it wasn’t needed. He knew what she was getting at.

“All of me, my Sunlight. Do not worry. I will make no advances towards you…”

“Even so, wouldn’t it be better if I left you to clean yourself up for this part?”

Adar laughed.

“Oh no, sweetheart. You're hands are much more pleasurable than mine.”

MC giggled nervously. Trembling hands reached for the strings of his pants, pulling them loose.

Mc looked straight down at Adar’s thighs as she pulled his pants off, him helpfully raising his hips. Absolutely no shame to be found.

MC silently huffed.

She guessed if she lived that long shed probably give no fucks either.

But still. It didn’t escape his notice that she was NOT looking up from her task. The rhythmic and soothing sound or the rag getting dipped in the water bucket and lathered up the only sound breaking the deafening silence.

Adars legs twitched as she ran the rag up his thigh. Cleaning his inner leg before veering off towards his hip bone...

Adar had to smirk at the scene before him.

Without knowing it, she was managing to give him the best tease he’s had in a long, LONG time.

But still, he decided it was time to move this game forward.

“I think my legs are clean enough. Don’t you?”

MC froze.

She had deliberately been avoiding the area between his legs, hoping he’d take over for her.

Not because she didn’t want to touch and care and feel him in his most vulnerable state.

But because she did.

However now he had cornered her.

Adar leaned forward towards MC.

“Don’t be shy. I vow I mean you no harm Sunlight”

Mc hesitated, rinsing the rag before going for one of the clean buckets.

She supposed this area would he more delicate, and would require completely clean water.

Adar watched in amusement.

She was so flighty. So obvious.

He could smell her want from across the camp, the poor thing.

She had been needing for a long time.

However. Determined to save some face, she bravely ignored her own needs, and if he was right, her own heart.

No mind. He’d show her soon.

For now, he would have mercy and guide her.

Adar took the cloth from her hand and left it to the side, taking the soap and putting it into her hands.

At her shocked look of realisation he again tilted his head.

“The material is too rough, sweet one. You may use your hands. Like this.”

Adar took her smaller, soapy hand in his. He wrapped it around his proud, leaking cock gently and guided her hand up and down, taking her free hand to clean down the base of his shaft and his balls.

She must've had some experience cause muscle memory kicked in. And she started gently massaging without his direction.

Adar sighed, his head leaning back as she stroked him.

But soon enough she had deemed him clean, scooping water with her hands in order to rinse off the delicate and sensitive flesh of his manhood.

They were almost done, mc directing him to kneel up, grant her access to the back of his thighs.

He swore she took great pleasure in lathering him up, an ass woman, he supposed.

He also noticed her increasingly bleary eyed expression, the way her face leant against his thigh. Rubbing closer and closer to his cock as her clever little fingers worked their way in between his leg and up towards the base of his spine, dragging soapy water behind them as a thin disguise to her true wants.

Finally, MC’s face was where he had dreamed of it being for so long, lovingly pressed against him, soft lips brushing maddeningly against his shaft, her fingers playing around his ass before moving to squeeze at him, digging her fingers into his skin.

Adar wanted nothing more than to let her have her fill of him, but their first time would not end in him emptying down her throat.

So reluctantly, almost painfully he bid her to back off, stand.

MC whined at the loss of contact before blinking, her eyes widening at what she had almost done.

The woman scrambled away, babbling apologies but Adar would hear None of them.

He grabbed her, snagging her by her cloak, and pulled her to him.

Holding her in a tight embrace he took her face in his hands, crouching down so he was eye to eye with her, hoping that she saw nothing but his adoration.

His devotion.

Gently, he placed a kiss on her forehead then spoke.

“I think, it might be getting too cold to be in this state. Would you mind rinsing me, then helping me redress?”

MC nodded silently, grabbing another bucket.

Looking him over she decided how to do this.

“Can you stand, tip the bucket over yourself?”

Adar nodded as he stood up, the chains keeping him close to the pole with the added height

Somehow being naked only made him seem bigger and more imposing to his human audience.

MC couldn’t say he was perfectly sinewy and lean like the other elves shed seen.

Adar was older. He’d seen more punishment and pain.

Victories and failures painted his sickly pale skin, in areas his flesh seemed to hang off his bones from lack of eating.

But all of these facts MC didn’t see. To her, he was as strong as stone and unstoppable as a raging river. The scares over his body carving their way over his body like the carvings on his armour, almost hypnotising.

A grotesque work of art.

MC watched as she passed Adar the bucket, admiring the shift and flex of his body as he raised it above his head, emptying the water over himself and sighing as he felt truly clean for the first time in the longest time.

Mc broke herself out of her trance, her gaze shifting to the small sack of clothes.

Rifling through it, she found a small, lightweight towel and threw it to Adar, smiling as it hit his face.

MC then picked up his clothes and handed them to him.

“I didnt know you could take an elf by surprise.”

Adar hummed in amusement.

“My lady your attack was cowardly and underhanded.”

MC handed him his pants.

“I'm sure the shame will follow me to my grave. Here.”

Adar looked at the clothing. Eyes far before finally taking them from her.

“These are mine...”

“what was that?”

“These. They are mine. From...so long ago. He kept them all these years. Elrond.”

MC looked at the way Adar brushed his thumb over the soft material in his hands.

“He didn’t tell me what your history was...”

“That’s best left in the past. For now at least. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.”

Adar fastened his pants. Soft and worn in perfectly to him, despite the twisted years reflected on his body.

Mc handed him his shirt.

“What is it the time for then?”

Adar awkwardly wrestled with the shirt, trying to find a way to put it on despite the chains. Eventually simply feeding the thin cloth under his shackles.

“I believe I owe you an explanation. Come, sit.

I was in those caves a long time. Inconceivably long, for someone of your kind. I had forgotten what warmth felt like.

But then you appeared. But it had not been the first time in saw your face.”

MC’s brow scrunched. She KNOWS she had never met adar before.

“Has anyone ever told you elves were prone to prosthetic dreams?

Visions of an ever changing future. As shifting as sand.

Well. I have had one dream. Ever since I was imprisoned by the lady of Lothlorian.

It sent me to those caves. Kept me there until that day came around.”

The sinking feeling returned to MC’s stomach,

“What was the dream?”

Adar swallowed.

“You. I saw you. Us together. Bound by blood and rope and steel.

I waited for 1000 years for you and then suddenly, there you were.

Why, do I keep following you, only to be chained once again for it?

Because you kept me prisoner. All those years in the dark I waited Sunlight. Waited and waited and waited. And then you were there. You held the key to my prison and thought you could just run off with it?

I don’t know why the Valar sent me those visions but they never changed. As steadfast a comfort as they were an unrelenting torment.

But you're here, with me now. And I wish to keep it that way, come hell or high tide.

You were sent to me for a reason. The gods made you for me.

As my doom or my saving grace, we will have to wait to find out. If you'll have me.”

MC was frozen. Whatever she was expecting, it had not been that.

“Adar....”

Adar closed in, his nose bumping against hers gently.

“Maglor. My name is Maglor.”

MC leaned in, bringing her lips so close to his.

“Maglor, kiss me?”

Maglor closed the gap, sealing their lips together. MC moaned into the kiss, only getting louder as they split apart.

Maglor nipped at her bottom lip in reprimand.

“Hush, Sunlight. Do not let them hear.”

MC went to nip back at Maglor’s lips but he pulled back.

“Sunlight, do you want this. If you say yes. I will not stop. Ever.

Elves bond for life, where you go, I will be. Do you understand?”

“I understand. I will have you, Maglor. Uruk or elf, I will have you.”

Maglor groaned almost imperceptibly as he kissed his Sunlight, enjoying the intoxicating warmth of her lips.

MC’s hands fumbled at the draw string of Maglor’s pants, frustrated that she couldn’t get them undone.

Maglor chuckled.

“Peace, my love. Let me do this, you get comfortable.”

MC straddled his lap, facing the man as she went to pull off her dress, fully ready to bare herself to the elf in front of her but he stopped her.

“There is nothing I wish for more than the two of us to he able to love under the sky, naked to the gods with nothing to hide, but I fear this time we shall have to be cautious. Our enemies are listening. Waiting. And you are for my eyes only. The dress stays on.”

MC groaned, but cooperated. His words held truth.

Finally, FINALLY Maglor had freed himself.

He was as ready as he was before and MC wasted no time sinking down onto him, the stretch of him burning and she whimpered, her head buried in his chest. The neck of his shirt exposing his skin to her as she rested her cheek against it.

Maglor shushed her, cooing and rubbing his scarred cheek against her.

Once she felt she had relaxed enough, MC began to rock on Maglor. Slowly and gently.

It was a tender coupling despite the circumstances, full of whispered praises.

However, it was not to last, Maglor had just slipped a hand under MC’s skirt when he heard footsteps, their unfortunate arrival coinciding with the irresistible pulsing of his Sunlight’s warm, wet walls.

The lady of Lorien herself burst into the tent, and saw the position they were in.

She immediately tried to reason with the young, enchanted woman, not daring to come any closer to the dangerous Uruk before her.

“MC, don’t listen to him, he’s bewitching you. You don’t have to do this!”

Maglor sighed, smirking. The slight release of breath the only giveaway to the raging pleasure and love he was releasing into his Sunlight that very moment.

“I'm afraid it is already done, we are bound”

His face was the absolute image of composure as he faced down his long time captor, his orgasm washing over him

Galadriel looked down at the scene in disgust, MC’s legs shaking as Maglor granted her her own release, thumb discreetly playing with her clit under her dress, which covered them both, hiding their actions.

She tucked her head into Maglor’s chest, hiding from the elves in the room as she came down from her orgasm.

Galadriel sneered at Maglor.

“If you are bound, then she is truly lost to us. Chain her, with her lover. They can rot together in lightless cells.”

Galadriel stormed out of the tent, followed by the guards once they had chained the elf and human together, binding them to the pole. She would not admit the guilt that ate her at allowing her cousin to take a human into his web of lies and deception.

Inside the tent, still held tight inside his sunlight Maglor held her close, kissing her forehead before pressing his against the crown of her head.

Looking her in the eye, a whispered “good girl” was all she heard before falling asleep against him.

Come morning, the only thing in the tent were the shackles that helped tie the woman and elf together. Open and empty

[sanisse]

sanisse’s kinktober event rules

  [MAIN RULES REDIRECT HERE] 

Below are a list of prompts. These are first come, first serve. 

You can request any character or pairing you wish. Whether that’s a reader insert or a ship pairing you like. I will be accepting one request per each prompt, but characters/ships can be requested multiple times.

please try to be courteous and don’t send in a whole bunch (maybe max 2 to be safe until we get this thing filled out more). Let other people have a chance to have a turn. 

Characters from the Silmarillion, The Fall of Gondolin, the Lord of the Rings, The Rings of Power (I characterize people a bit different based on the show > specify if you’d specifically like a rings of power version of a character (i.e. Gil-Galad, Elrond, Celembrimbor...), etc. are all valid. Same rules apply: I don’t really write dwarves, hobbits, or orcs...nothing against them, I’m just not good at writing them. If you’re not sure about a character or ship, feel free to ask! 

All ships must be safe/sane/consensual and of age. Not up for debate!

PROMPTS (will be posted in no particular order. To be updated with assigned pairings & requester tags) 

vouyerism AND/OR exhibitionism - FEANOR X READER (anonymous) 

mutual masturbation - GLORTHELION ( @esteemedbastard )

size difference kink - MAEDHROS X READER (anonymous) 

pegging - FINROD X READER (anonymous)

threesome - RUSSINGON X READER (anonymous) 

mommy kink - LINDIR X READER (anonymous) 

mirror sex - FINROD X READER (requested TWICE, by two seperate anons lmao) 

body worship - Chef’s choice of top!Female Elf x Reader (GALADRIEL, I choose YOU.) - ( @creativity-of-death )

daddy kink - FINGOLFIN X READER (anonymous) 

sadism/masochism - MAGLOR X FEM!READER (anonymous) 

soft dominance - ELROND (yeAHHHH BOI) - (anonymous) 

power imbalance - THRANDUIL X READER (anonymous) 

blindfolding - ECTHELION X READER (anonymous) 

blowjobs - GLORFINDEL X READER (anonymous - with an instructional bent, which is really fun!) 

handjobs - FINROD X READER (anonymous) 

consensual nonconsent (consent play) - CELEGORM X READER (anonymous) 

degradation kink - THRANDUIL X READER (anonymous) 

uniform kink - ECTHELION X READER (anonymous) 

breathplay - MAEDHROS X READER (anonymous) 

praise kink - RUSSINGON (anonymous) 

overstimulation - CARANTHIR X READER ( @strategic-wombat )

spanking/impact play - MAGLOR X READER (anonymous) 

hero worship - GLORFINDEL X FEM!READER (anonymous)

boot and leather kink - THRANDUIL X FEM!READER (anonymous)

substitution - GLORESTOR > substituting in for Ecthelion (Anonymous) 

getting caught - SILVERGIFTING ( @antares0606 )

cock warming (1) - RUSSINGON ( @medusas-hairband )

breeding kink - FEANOR (YEAH!!!!) X READER - (anonymous) 

cock warming (on here twice. I’m cheating. I’m very fond of this kink) - ELROND (TRoP) X GN!Reader - (Anonymous) - 

orgasm denial OR ruined orgasm - CURUFIN X READER (anonymous) 

brat taming - CELRONDUIL (anonymous) 

[animatorweirdo]

Hey love! I have an idea for some angst: how about a reader that’s been transported into the Silmarillion, but they’re aware of the events that’ll happen throughout the story. But imagine the reader letting most of the tragic events play out, knowing if they try to insert themselves too much they’ll change the fates of many people. Not wanting to screw up anything because the consequences would be unpredictable, the reader is subjected to just stand aside in the background for the most part and just watch everything. The most they do is help with what they can, sadly it gets lonely. They get desperate and just before things escalate (before the kinslayings), they end up falling in love with Feanor of all people. Knowing this, it hurts to love someone like him because they know what’s going to happen to him…so they’re still stuck watching everything play out and having to deal with this one sided love on their part knowing that the one they love will love someone else only to die prematurely. Of which, they can’t change his fate even if they wanted to.

That is a very angsty idea. However, I do not know how to add this when Feanor dies in the beginning before other tragic events. The best I could do Reader ends up in Valinor during the family drama. Also, I just don't get inspiration to write characters romantically who are already married and I kinda stan elves do not re-marry. I could make it a platonic or father-like figure, but then it would be difficult to plan out the rest that the reader just watches as his family and people fall through the ages.

Can I offer someone else like Maedhros perhaps? I think this would suit because then reader ends up watching him turn for the worst while knowing his fate, they couldn't do anything about it. And when he was gone, they still remained to witness the last events of the story. Just alone with memories and thoughts if they could have changed something and possibly saved him from his fate.

[that-rogue-valar]

Save You, Save Me

Pairings: Maedhros x Fem!Elf!Reader x Mairon

Warnings: Mentions of blood, removal of a hand, loss of a lover, not really following Tolkien's Elvish lover/marriage standards, mostly fluff

A/N: This is my first reader insert. Please let me know what you think! This is written on my phone, so please let me know if you notice any errors. Thank you guys!

He couldn't be. How could he betray the Valar that he once adored? How could he betray me in this way? My heart ached as the words flew out of his mouth and I found myself clutching my chest on the ground as he stood. The tears wouldn't flow no matter how much I urged them to, only anger shrouded in my mind while he continued to look on at my pain. 

My broken voice wobbled out a plea before it turned into acquisitions and an interrogation. "How could you, Mairon?! I love you and this is how you treat me?! Mairon!" 

I heard him sniffle, but I convinced myself it was fake. It was fake like our love was. His hand came down on my shoulder, his familiar, gentle touch was almost comforting, but I yanked myself away. I couldn't get attached to him only for him to hurt me again. 

"Please, don't go with him, Mairon," I whispered. "Aule will forgive you, my love, please. Do not go with Melkor." 

He grabbed my chin with his thumb and his forefinger. "I am sorry, Y/N. It has been done. It has been woven into my fate and I cannot erase it." 

Mairon's lips came to my forehead, cold, yet so warm. I whimpered as his footsteps echoed through the stone hall. 

"How could you?" I whispered over and over as I cradled my own body in my arms, trying to make the illusion that it was him. 

As the years passed without him, I saw myself getting better slowly. I found my heart longing for his touch, but I would dismiss it before I got the chance to mourn it. It was no use mourning the loss of my lover because he was never coming back to me and I had to face that. 

But I hated it. 

The Enemy captured me and my lover, Maedhros, a son of Feanor. I fought against the shackles and begged for them to kill me if they would not spare Maedhros as well. That's when I heard that voice. 

"Y/N," the voice breathed out. A figure adorned with ginger locks appeared in the pale torchlight. I knew all too well who it was and my heart leaped. "Why are you here?" 

I so badly wanted to let him hold me and do what he pleased with me as he did in Valinor. But instead, I found my freehand flying until it came in contact with his cheek. Mairon's jaw shifted as he rubbed the side of his face. His golden eyes burned an angry orange. 

A gasp escaped from my lips and I shrunk back into my cell. Mairon took two strides before reaching my frail form. 

"You pity the ellon, don't you?" Mairon whispered, leaning down to take my chin in his hand. It was like when he left. "Why? Does he remind you of someone?" 

I shook my head. What Maedhros and I had was none of Mairon's business. I loved Maedhros. Yes, I have to admit that he reminded me slightly of Mairon back when he was a smithy for Aule, but not the Mairon that stood in front of me then. Mairon was dead and Sauron was walking in his skin. 

"Mm...so he does," he said as he walked around the small, damp room. "I wonder who." 

I studied him closer. He changed not just in personality but in looks as well. He used to keep his hair shorter and tied back, but now it hung between his shoulder blades without being tied out of his face. His once trimmed back fingernails were nearly black and long. He was skinnier and almost frail looking. 

Mairon smirked. "So, darling, does he love you like I used to?" 

Used to. It stung at my heart and for the first time since he left, tears stung at the back of my eyes. "It is none of your business, Sauron. I do not know why you still care, you left me long ago in Valinor." 

His shoulders lifted then relaxed again in an awful shrug. "I just would like to know." 

Maybe he still cared. Maybe Mairon was there under the facade that Sauron was playing. I could hope, but it was worthless to hope for something that would never come true. I would die before Mairon came back to me. 

At that, he turned on his heel and left me alone in the cell. I could hear Maedhros' screams and pleas for help echoing into the caverns of Angband. I called out to him in our native tongue. His reply was barely audible, but I could just make out, "Please, my love, please." 

I curled up in the corner and sobbed. I could not help Maedhros. I could only wait until someone came for us. 

"I am trying, Mae. I'm trying," I shouted. "I am trying." 

Thirty years had passed. Sauron would visit me every evening since he discovered I was in the dungeons of Angband. Over those thirty years, I came up with a plan and I managed to seduce one of the servants to get a hold of the keys. I waited until the following week to free myself, then Maedhros. I had sent a moth to Fingon to relay the message that I was going to free us, but I would need his assistance in getting Maedhros down from Thangorodrim. 

I crept out from my cell and onto the cliff face that held my lover. I nearly broke down at the sight of him. His ribs were visible through scarred skin. His once bright eyes were dim and hopeless. Fingon waited for me to try the lock before he and Thorondor came to the rescue. But the lock on his shackles was far too rusty for me to unlock. 

Fingon took up his sword and cut off Maedhros' hand in order to free him. I covered my hand over my mouth to silence my cries as I watched in horror. Maedhros crumbled in my arms as bright red liquid spewed from his arm. The dark-haired Noldorian prince helped us clamber on the eagle's back. 

As Thorondor continued his flight, I tore the hem of my tunic and wrapped the end of Maedhros' arm. I cradled him in my arms as the eagle flew to the House of Fingolfin. 

"You are going to be alright, Mae," I whispered as I raked my fingers through his dirt-ridden hair. "I promise you." 

"Y/N," he whispered. "I love you." 

"I love you too, Maedhros, but you have to focus, alright? You need to focus on not rolling off of this eagle," I said with a fake chuckle. Maedhros weakly rolled his eyes. 

He huffed. "Oh yes, darling. I will." 

* * * 

I noticed a change in Maedhros as the years grew. His body and his soul were scarred forever and I could not heal those scars. He hid his arm from me and refused to hold me at night because of it. He would hide his hand in his robes and spend his days ignoring me. 

Maedhros seemed to open up to me again after our wedding. I spent our wedding night sobbing, begging for him to forgive me for not freeing us from Angband's clutches sooner. I cried myself to sleep as I laid on his chest that night. 

It became a habit for me to apologize to him every night for what happened in Angband, even though it wasn't my fault. He would reassure me every time, though I did not forgive myself. I had very few scars across my skin, while my lover had too many to count. I spent hours reliving the horror in Maedhros" arms. 

A broken cry escaped my lips whenever news reached me that my husband died. He wasn't coming back just like Mairon. I was living out my past once again and I hated it with every ounce of my being. 

I was fading and the grief consumed me. My love was waiting for me in the West. 

I remained silent as the ship made its journey to Aman. Other elves hustled about the ship, but I couldn't contain it any longer. He was going to be there. I knew it in my heart that he was going to be there.

"Hey, Carrot-Top!" I yelled, catching the attention of a familiar, tall figure on the shore. 

There he was. "Y/N?" 

His long legs came bounding towards me until I was wrapped in his arms. "How are you not in the Halls of Mandos, Mae?" I questioned after we pulled away from each other. 

"I...I did a little bargaining," Maedhros admitted. "Let's just say I will be assisting Nienna for quite some time." 

"Eru, I've missed you," I said. I enveloped his torso in my arms and stuck my face in his chest. "So much." 

"You two, E/C Eyes," Maedhros said as he laced his fingers in my hair. 

How I missed his touch.

[doodle-pops]

Married Life With Feanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin Would Include…

Request: Hi, can I request some group fluffy headcanons for Feanor, Fingolfin and Finarfin with asexual!reader? Like about their domestic life. I like to imagine they would give reader some extra care and make them feel valid and loved, and when someone tries to stick their nose into their relationship, they just be like: "Yeah, me and my partner don't have bodily union, but we're bonded by stars, so get lost". Thanks in advance (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

A/N: Always a pleasure to answer your requests. Enjoy!

Synopsis: What your married life with them as an asexual person would entail.

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˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Fëanor

➽ Fëanor, being Fëanor, does not give a damn about what others think of your relationship. In fact, he thrives on the scandal it causes amongst the more traditional elves.

➽ If anyone so much as dares to comment on the lack of physical intimacy between you two, he scoffs, waves a dismissive hand, and says something like, “What, you thought I, Curufinwë Fëanáro, needed to do what every other lovesick fool does? I am bonded beyond flesh. And if you don’t understand that, I won’t waste my breath explaining it to you.”

➽ He is extremely protective of your comfort. If someone is prying or making you feel invalid, he will eviscerate them with words alone. “Your ignorance wounds me,” he’d say in a tone so dry that it leaves the offender squirming. “And here I thought the Eldar were supposed to be enlightened.”

➽ You are the only one allowed to touch his hair without protest. The sight of you braiding it is enough to make his sons do double takes because their father, the very Fëanor, sits still and lets you work without a single complaint. If you ever want yours braided in return, he takes to the task with precision—his fingers work like a master jeweller, and he will not accept anything less than perfection.

➽ If you’re feeling insecure about your identity, he brings you into his forge and makes you something to remind you of your worth. A Silmaril of your own, set with a stone that captures the first light of Telperion and Laurelin. “No one questions the worth of the Silmarils,” he murmurs as he fastens it around your neck. “And you are far rarer, far more precious. So do not let lesser minds make you doubt.”

➽ When the two of you sit together, he always ends up with an arm slung around your shoulders or your fingers intertwined with his. It’s never possessive—just a quiet reminder that you belong to each other. He likes to rest his forehead against yours sometimes, eyes closed, breathing in your presence. “This,” he says softly, “is enough.”

➽ Maedhros and Maglor have learned not to comment on your relationship because every time they do, Fëanor launches into a dramatic speech about how the two of you share a connection beyond mere physicality, an eternal bond forged in the core of Arda itself, something that transcends mere bodily desires. Eventually, his sons stop bringing it up because he won’t shut up.

➽ If he catches anyone looking down on you for your sexuality, he leans in and murmurs in a deceptively friendly tone, “If you insult my beloved, you insult me. And you would not dare to insult me, would you?” Cue the offending party quickly finding somewhere else to be.

➽ He has a terrible habit of stealing your clothes when they’re left unattended. You’ll come into your shared space to find him wearing your outer robe like a lordly cloak, completely unbothered by the fact that it’s clearly not his. “It smells like you,” he says with a shrug. “And I happen to like that.”

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Fingolfin

➽ Unwavering in his devotion, and when he loves, he loves with his whole being. He understands you, accepts you, and never lets you feel less than cherished. Whenever someone questions your relationship, he just raises an eyebrow and says in his calm, unshakable voice, “What I have with my beloved is eternal. It does not need to be explained.”

➽ He is an incredibly attentive partner. He notices when you’re overwhelmed, when you need space, when you need reassurance. If you ever doubt your worth, he takes your hands in his and presses a lingering kiss to your knuckles. “You are enough,” he tells you. “Always.”

➽ If someone tries to insist that your love is somehow ‘incomplete’ without physical intimacy, Fingolfin gives them a look so cold that they immediately regret opening their mouth. “And who,” he asks, voice laced with steel, “gave you the authority to define love?”

➽ He enjoys quiet domestic moments. Sitting beside you as he polishes his armour, reading together beneath the trees, walking hand in hand through the city—these are the things he treasures. Sometimes, he just gazes at you with a small, private smile, as if he still cannot quite believe you chose him.

➽ His siblings have very different reactions to your relationship. Fëanor, predictably, scoffs at the idea of his half-brother finding happiness but secretly respects how fiercely Fingolfin defends your bond. Finarfin, ever the peacekeeper, is simply delighted to see you both happy. “True love is rare,” he tells you one day with a warm smile. “Never let anyone tell you it must look a certain way.”

➽ Whenever you sit in court beside him, he unconsciously seeks you out, his hand resting lightly on yours, a subtle anchor in the storm of politics. Even in the most heated debates, his touch remains grounding and comforting.

➽ When he prepares for battle, he always ensures you have something of his—perhaps a finely wrought bracelet, a token of his love. “I will return to you,” he vows, fingers brushing against yours. “And should I fall, know that I have loved you beyond all reckoning.”

➽ He is a surprisingly good cook, but only for you. If one of his soldiers asks for a meal, they get standard fare. If you ask? He’s suddenly making a feast fit for a king. “Favouritism?” he echoes, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you mean.”

˖ ࣪ . ࿐♡˚. Finarfin

➽ He is utterly devoted to making sure you always feel loved and validated. He is patient, understanding, and the first to shut down any nonsense about what a relationship should look like. “Love is not measured by the expectations of others,” he says simply. “It is measured by what we build together.”

➽ He is incredibly gentle with you. If you ever feel overwhelmed, he simply pulls you into his arms and lets you lean against him, no words needed. His presence alone is a comfort, warm and steadfast.

➽ He enjoys creating things for you—whether it’s intricate jewellery, embroidered garments, or even composing a song that captures the depths of your bond. “It is not the work of a great minstrel,” he says with a soft smile, “but it is yours, and that is enough.”

➽ Whenever someone pries into your relationship, he doesn’t get angry. He just tilts his head, gives them a polite but firm look, and says, “I fail to see how this is your concern.” Somehow, that is more effective than any argument.

➽ If you ever feel insecure about your identity, he reassures you with quiet conviction. “You are as the Valar made you,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “And who am I to question their wisdom?”

➽ He enjoys domestic routines with you—sharing meals, walking through the gardens, reading together in companionable silence. These small moments mean everything to him.

➽ His children adore you. Even if they don’t always understand your perspective at first, they respect you deeply. Galadriel and Finrod in particular are protective of you, and anyone who dares to mock your relationship will find themselves on the receiving end of Galadriel’s sharp tongue.

➽ When he speaks about you, there is always warmth in his voice, a quiet reverence. “My love,” he says one evening as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “the world may not always understand us, but I need only your understanding. That is all that matters.

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[doodle-pops]

Curufin With A Smitten Reader Would Include…

A/N: Wanted to do a little surprise today and treat all the Curufin lovers to a nice piece about him. Also based on a conversation I had over here ➽ ASK. And, Valentine’s Day was just two days ago, so it made sense for him to have so much attention lol

Masterlist | Navigation

• Curufin was used to admiration—whether it was for his craft, his skill in battle, or simply being the son of Fëanor, there was never a shortage of people who either respected or feared him. But you? You were something else entirely. You didn’t just admire him—you practically worshipped the ground he walked on, and he was absolutely thriving off it.

• It started off amusing to him. He caught you watching him a little too intently while he worked on some intricate piece of metalwork, and when he looked up, instead of feigning indifference like a normal person, you just sighed dreamily and muttered, “Your hands are wasted on mere steel.” He had to pause his work entirely, torn between laughter and sheer delight at the audacity of it.

• “Oh? And what, pray tell, should they be doing instead?” He leaned forward slightly, intrigued, half expecting you to get embarrassed. You didn’t. You simply said, “Holding me.” The arrogance. The sheer confidence. He decided right then and there that he was keeping you.

• If he ever needed an ego boost (not that he would ever admit to such a thing), he would simply go to you. It was guaranteed that whatever he was doing, you would find it spectacular. Sharpening a blade? “You make it look so elegant.” Giving orders? “Your voice could command the stars.” Even just existing? “I swear the air is sweeter when you’re near.” It didn’t matter if he was being ruthless or sarcastic—your response was always adoration, and he drank it in like fine wine.

• He loved seeing how effortlessly you prioritised him in everything. If he was speaking, you were listening, hanging on every word like it was a revelation from Eru himself. If he had an idea, you supported it without question, often embellishing it with some flowery praise about his brilliance. And if anyone dared speak against him in your presence? Oh, you would defend him with the fervour of a zealot.

• “You’re ridiculous,” he told you once, watching as you argued on his behalf with a stubborn Noldo who dared question his methods. You turned to him, all righteous fury, and said, “No, they are ridiculous for doubting you.” He stared at you for a moment, then simply pulled you close and kissed you, because what else could he do?

• He found it endlessly entertaining how you always managed to spin his worst traits into something admirable. He was ruthless? No, he was determined. He was sharp-tongued? No, he was eloquent. He was arrogant? No, he simply knew his worth. You once told him, with complete sincerity, “You’re not arrogant—you’re just burdened with accuracy.” He defined had to sit down after that one.

• You became something of a menace to his brothers as well. Celegorm was used to people flattering Curufin, but he wasn’t used to it being this relentless. One time, after a particularly long string of your praises, Celegorm just groaned and said, “Do you even hear yourself? You sound like a lovesick bard.” Without missing a beat, you replied, “At least bards have taste.”

• You were, to put it simply, a devoted enabler. If Curufin had an idea, no matter how outrageous, you supported it wholeheartedly. If he wanted to make an impossibly intricate piece of jewellery, you encouraged him. If he suggested an elaborate strategy, you were already making plans. Even when he was scheming, you didn’t bat an eye.

• “Are you truly alright with this?” he asked once, watching you as he detailed some cunning plan. Most people would have hesitated, but you just smiled and said, “I trust you.” There was something almost terrifying about your blind faith in him, but he wasn’t about to complain.

• You had a habit of watching him like he was the most fascinating thing in Arda. Whether he was crafting, strategising, or just standing there, you always looked at him as if he personally hung the stars in the sky. It was a gaze he never quite got used to, but he never wanted it to stop.

• “What are you staring at?” he asked once, half-amused, half-smug, as he caught you watching him work. You just sighed and said, “Perfection.” He nearly ruined the piece he was working on.

• It didn’t matter how long you were together—your admiration for him never wavered. Even when he was at his worst, when others turned away in fear or doubt, you remained steadfast. If anything, you admired him even more when he was sharp and unyielding.

• “You should be careful,” someone warned you once. “Curufin is not an easy man.” You just smiled and said, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t want easy.” When Curufin heard about it later, he just shook his head and muttered, “You are utterly impossible.” But the way he kissed you after said otherwise.

• Your devotion was so unwavering that even Fëanor, for all his pride, had to take note. He once watched as you waxed poetry about Curufin’s skill and said dryly, “Are you certain you are not one of mine?” Curufin, to his credit, simply smirked and pulled you closer. “Too late, father,” he said. “They’re mine.”

• Even in battle, you were a force of nature, not because you were the strongest, but because you fought like someone with something to prove. If Curufin was on the battlefield, you were by his side, defending him with a passion that even his own kin couldn’t match. It was both impressive and slightly alarming.

• “You fight like a mad thing,” he told you once, after you had quite literally thrown yourself into danger for him. You just grinned and said, “Well, if I die, I’ll haunt you, so you’re stuck with me either way.” He didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh.

• You had a habit of collecting things he made, as if they were holy relics. If he so much as discarded a half-finished design, you were there, scooping it up like it was a lost Silmaril. “You do realise that’s flawed, don’t you?” he said once, watching you examine a ring he had deemed unworthy. You just smiled and said, “Everything you touch is gold to me.” He scoffed, but he didn’t take it away from you.

• Your presence became something he relied on more than he cared to admit. For all his confidence, for all his cunning, there was something grounding about having you there, endlessly loyal, endlessly devoted. Others might have called you a fool for it, but he knew better. He knew that kind of loyalty was rare, and he would never take it for granted.

• “You’re dangerous,” he murmured one night, watching as you curled up beside him, looking at him as if he was your entire world. You smiled and said, “Only for you.” And for once, he had no clever reply—only the quiet, undeniable realisation that he had never been more adored in his life.

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