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doodle-pops · 7 months ago

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Finrod NSFW Alphabet

Request: Hello 👉👈 I really love your writing and since your requests are open if you're up for it could I ask for some NSFW headcanons for Finrod? I deeply enjoy this blonde blorbo 💜 thanks and be healthy - Anon

A/N: It’s always a pleasure to write one of these alphabets for the elves, especially for our golden boy. I hope you’re staying well also. Enjoy!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The air is quiet, however, he’s still energetic after having sex and would cuddle you like an overly ecstatic puppy while touching some part of your body. It’s usually him pulling your sweaty body halfway on top of his while his hand wander and touching your back, butt and thighs. Finrod doesn’t mean for it to be an initiator for another round, he simply enjoys the proximity of the bodily contact you two are sharing in the moment and doesn’t want for it to end or be limited to simply lying beside each other. At the same time, when you manage to catch your breath and haven’t fallen asleep, likewise him, he would inquire about your next move. His voice is tender, yet, deep as he asks if you would like to have a bath run, something to eat and drink or lie in bed and talk? Once he receives his answer and is aware of your body status, he returns to being the cuddly bean that he is.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

It’s your eyes. Those gorgeous eyes of yours he loves endlessly. He wants every act to involve you looking into his eyes because the eyes never lie; they are the windows into one’s soul and he wants to know how lost in the pleasure or in love are you. All those whimpers and pleads are usually followed by your eyes softening or becoming puddles as they roll or cross when the pleasure is just right. He loses his mind when he knows how close you are and you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, which drives him wild. It allows him to calculate his next move with accuracy and precision to make you lose your mind.

On him, it’s between his mouth and fingers because he’s exceptionally skilled at bringing you great forms of pleasure using those two. He simply loves when you beg him to use his mouth, guiding him to where you want him most or how he whispers sinfully into your ear as he holds you down to finger you. His ability to drive you crazy with his body parts makes his ego run wild and he uses them to his advantage.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Not a messy person to begin with and prefers releasing inside you, on your thighs or in your mouth if you provide him with a blowjob. While his desire to impregnate doesn’t run explicitly as the rest of the members of his family, he enjoys the sensation of your walls milking every ounce of his cum out of his cock. It’s a feeling he experienced and became hard to ignore anytime you two are intimate. The rare occasion when he doesn’t desire to finish inside you is when you’re rewarding him with an earth-shattering blowjob, which he can’t refuse.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As regal and majestic Finrod appears, he enjoys the days when you take the weight of dominance off his shoulders and take the lead in bed. Yup, he’s a switch and revels in the dynamic. Not all the time he want to be giving the pleasure even he receives; he wants to see what tricks you have up your sleeves and how well you can take the lead and return satisfactory pleasure to your King. The sub side of him tends to appear when he’s down on energy or when he’s in that roleplaying headspace. However, he tends to lean on the dominant side more often than the sub.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He read lots of books and heard discussions from his lawless family members about the basic do’s and don’ts when it comes to intimacy. Finrod isn’t a skittish person when it comes to daring acts when it’s new to him. This is something he faces with passion and determination; it’s both your pleasure on the playing field and he isn’t wanting to take it as a joke. His first time with you would be full of confidence, leading you to believe that he’s done this before—he’s a natural. Anything outside of the basics would require experimenting and your input should you have intel, and he isn’t one to shy away from learning new intimate activities.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Finrod is a simple person and would go for missionary as his most used position because he wants to get lost all up in your eyes—you have gorgeous eyes he wants to see, okay. It’s such a raw and intimate position in his eyes that allows him to grant you the world of pleasure, plus, he can manoeuvre your legs anywhere he enjoys while choosing the pace he wanta to deive hismelf into you with. Furthermore, in this position, he gets to have access to your body to utilise his mouth, meaning his pretty lips are whispering sweet praises in your ear or attached to your lips, neck and chest.

Riding him is another favourite position because he gets to watch you riding him like a stallion. Those hands on his chest leaving behind moon crescents, or the up and down motion of your body causing your breasts to jiggle spurs him on. His own hands can’t help but reach out to ‘assist’ as you ride him like there’s no tomorrow. It’s an easy-to-access position when you slip into his study or throne—should he be up for a quickie—or when he wants to lead you under the false impression that you’re in control of the session. So easy it is for him to buck into you, pinning your arms behind your back and take over. All you can do is hang on for the ride.

On mornings after your night together, when his energy might be too low for him or you to get on top, he’ll opt for spooning. In this position, it feels like he doesn’t have to rush, and you don’t have anywhere to go as the world unravels around you two as the morning awakens. Your leg resting in the crook of his elbow as he spreads you wide enough for his cock to sink smoothly into your heat, while he presses soft kisses to your shoulder as he takes his time carrying you off to your climax.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s capable of being both goofy and serious during sex, it all depends on the reason. If he’s jealous or the moment calls for a touch of sentiment, Finrod would hope that you would understand his reasoning and respect the atmosphere. Laughing during times like that would lead him to believe that you didn’t care. Anything outside of those moments, Finrod wouldn’t mind revelling in a burst of hearty laughter if he or you made a mistake, or the moment requires great joy to be expressed. You two probably knocked heads or slipped, leading to you laughing at each other’s eagerness.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sadly, elves don’t have body hair and Finrod is remarkably famed for the hair he had on his head compared to what he has below. So if you peeked, it is clean.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Finrod has his own way of making every sentimental moment romantic and full of love. I’m sure there were times when you two slept and it was simply pure fucking for the sake of pleasure and relief, but there are times when he wants to romance you. This is when you get introduced to body-worshipping Finrod who doesn’t stop until you know your worth and you are incapacitated, in a good way. His mouth is attached to every inch of your skin, whispering sweet words as he kisses and bites while having extreme body contact—like he’ll rest half his weight atop you to pin, but also want to let you feel him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I can see him masturbating if it’s done under mutual masturbating and voyeurism. Other than that, it’s hard to see him touching himself when he’s alone. Don’t get me wrong, he would touch himself to thoughts of you, but he would rather you watch as he comes undone to the thoughts of you that consume him, putting his cravings at the back and waiting for the right moment to gift you that sight. So if he was thinking of you, he’ll wait when you’re alone in your chambers and gift you the magnificent sight of witnessing how crazy you drive him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

One of Finrod’s weaknesses stems from his titles being used to get him either on his knees or feral. He adores when you address him as ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ which already announces his position, however, he likes to take it up a notch and introduce roleplaying. He has admitted to enjoying the use of domineering titles being used on him, so he opts for roles that grant him access to hearing names like, ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’. The cheeky devil finds himself caught up in a whirlwind of pleasure when you’re playing a servant or a merchant, desperate for your King to grant you favour.

Whether it is a kink or not, he has the strangest fascination watching you squirt. It brings out a childlike wonder in him, especially the first time it happened, and he inquired about it. That was all Finrod needed to get to work using every technique in the book, and like I said, he’s skilled with his mouth and fingers, so it will be achieved with ease. Just seeing you gush a waterfall which is derived from the satisfaction of the insurmountable pleasure he’s giving you makes him content. He doesn’t always make you squirt every session, since the time and place prevent that, but when he’s in the mood to, count your blessings because one is not enough.

Believe it or not, sensory play is also a favourite of Finrod. He’ll introduce blindfolds and elven ropes to leave you on the edge as he strips away your sense of sight and touch, even going as far as to remove hearing as he becomes a ghost on his feet. One minute you’ll be feeling the feathery touches of his fingers, and the next, you’re experiencing his cock pounding into you. When you’re incapacitated like this, his teasing tends to go up a notch, denying you any and all chances to feel his body against yours except his cock, fingers or mouth.

A massive body-worshipper which grants him access to quite a few other kinks up his sleeves like bondage. Nothing extravagant or elaborate, just a few simple bonds to your/his wrists and ankles, and he’s good with that. All that’s left to do is to relax and enjoy the oncoming pleasure either of you would grant the other. The only difference between you two is that Finrod is a massive tease and revels in teasing you as he worships your body; making you beg or confess how beautiful you find yourself if you desire his touch. However, he doesn’t appreciate the favour being returned excessively; tease him, but not too much. He’ll tug against the restraints, easily breaking out of them, before pinning you to the bed and asking, ‘What was so funny about teasing me so much?’

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mostly in his chambers, study, the courtroom and his home (in Valinor). You can get him to participate in a session in the forest if you two are camping, at a spring or a waterfall and the area if safe. It wouldn’t be wise if his guards were standing outside while he was taking you because it meant that he couldn’t hear your sweet moans and cries of his name. So, he would ensure that his guards weren’t around before he indulged.

Whispering ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’ in his ear late at night or in private easily gets his blood pumping. He’s doing his best to restrain himself as he grips his quill with every effort not to snap it. The desire to pounce on you is strong yet hangs by a thin thread and grows more dangerous each second you wander about his space, taunting him. Finrod is also quite proud of his accomplishments and himself, so praising him also goes a long way in getting him to conform to your wishes to of having him in bed. Run your hands across his muscles, his clothes and through his hair giving small tugs, tell him how good of a King he is to his subjects and that you wish to pay respect to his kindness. He’ll easily allow you to have your way.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nothing that would involve infliction of pain, blood or violence. Extreme BDSM would be out of the question to Finrod as well as any use of weapons. Furthermore, he isn’t going to be pleased with sharing or having others watching.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Like his older cousin, it’s no joke that he has an oral fixation as well and his mouth has to be on some part of your body. Finrod is a pleaser and he’ll eat you for both his pleasure and yours. Spending hours between your legs while it’s wrapped around his head suffocating him helps to relieve his stressful days as King. All he has to do is bat his pretty lashes at you and you’ve succumbed to his desires. There are times when he keeps his crown on and informs you to come sit on your throne while flashing you a lopsided grin because he knows what he’s doing. This is the one time where he doesn’t let up because he can’t get enough of your taste. Your legs could be shaking, you could attempt to push his head away and he’ll continue; this is after all for both you and him.

When receiving, he doesn’t shy away from accepting the act, however, he has a preference for you pleasuring him in other ways, so you’ll have to push him down. Or you can sneak into his study and suck him off from under the table while he struggles to keep a straight face and focus. During those moments, his hands would gently cradle your head as he leaves you to do your thing at your own pace…until you decide to go extra slow and tease him. That’s when he’ll grumble before guiding your head along his length or if he’s standing, thrusting into your mouth. It’s the one time when he’s rough while receiving oral.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Finrod leans towards slow and sensual whenever he’s intimate. This means that he’s a slow and passionate lover, enjoying deep, long, and slow strokes that are almost too much for you to handle before speeding up slightly, leaving you breathless or begging him to ease up—he doesn’t because he enjoys how flustered you become with his thrusts. This isn’t to say that he can’t get rough from time to time. For him, being rough only comes when you make him jealous, he’s heavily stressed or being a damn tease. This is when his thrusts are swift and rougher than usual, perhaps a slight bit of manhandling might happen in the moment. But to say the least, his rough side is enjoyable when he’s pinning you against some surface.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a thing you would depend on due to both your hectic schedule as leaders, and he would follow along. Most of the time, it’s him helping you out when you require relief since he isn’t as horny as you unless you purposefully rile him up by calling him one of his titles or wearing a tight or low-cut neckline. Otherwise, he genuinely goes along because he doesn’t have an issue when you desire him to please you. And here is where he gets to use his mouth and fingers most to get you off. It is on the rare occasion that he undresses and fully takes you, leaving you to take charge in the form of riding him.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I believe that the biggest risk Finrod is willing to take is allowing you to crawl on your knees to him in your submissive role. The act to him is debauched because you shouldn’t ever be on your knees in that manner, but there’s something sexy about watching you crawl over to him dressed in your finest lingerie or naked, to greet him. It’s different compared to when you’re on your knees sucking him off. Either the predatory or innocent look in your eyes as you look up at him makes his brain shut down for a split second before he gets serious. It’s the only lowly act he considers taking a chance to participate in.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Should the moment surround love and sentiment, Finrod is willing to have two to three rounds for the night, stretching each out to over thirty minutes. He’s worshipping you from head to toe every round because he is a passionate lover who leaves his touch quaking in your bones when he’s finished. However, if he’s jealous, everything is rougher and longer, as in five rounds until you understand that it’s he you should focus on and belong to. Of course, he gauges your responses to know if you can go for more.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Since toys, like what we have, don’t exist in Middle Earth, there aren’t many options to choose from if he were to indulge. To him, the idea of including toys would be great on your behalf since it would allow you to pleasure yourself when he couldn’t. The most he would request is to be present when you use them, so he can enjoy the performance while sipping on a glass of wine. Blindfold and elven ropes, something they have, would be included frequently in your activities since you mentioned that you enjoyed the heightened pleasure they added.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Yes, Finrod is a massive tease who hates to be on the receiving end when the tables are turned. He wants to drive you mad and have you moan, cry and beg for his touches; it fuels his ego to learn how much you crave him. Just listening to your whimpers as his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he tells you how much he desires you, knowing that you’re unable to do anything because you’re in public. The wicked, innocent, grin he throws at you before he saunters away, leaving you in a mess. But if you return the favour, he’ll take it for a while before growing impatient and pouncing.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

I have to say, his moans are heavenly. Quite angelic, especially when he tosses his head backwards to allow his golden curls to fall while releasing sweet notes, emphasising how good you make him feel. Either that, or he’s in your ear moaning like crazy, knowing how his voice makes you wetter and come undone faster. He isn’t excessively loud, but rather soft whimpers and moans like his goal is to seduce you with them, and he succeeds.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Finrod has a mirror kink which is a category under his love for body-worshipping. It goes both ways because he wants you to witness how you come undone with every touch, stroke and whisper he delivers so diabolically while you also desire the same with him. If you have an issue with your confidence, you can bet yourself that mirror sex is going to be a frequent occurrence until you can get it into your head that you’re beautiful. He’ll force you to watch as he takes you, the only time he’ll have you from behind, and force you to repeat after him, ‘I am beautiful.’

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Hmm, for someone considered one of the many beautiful elves to exist, he sure does have a pretty package. Well endowed, not too thick or thin, just the right length and girth to smoothly enter without any discomfort and carries a gentle weight, so he feels just right. He’s a shower that has a few veins running along the surface with a pink tip that stands out. Finrod is incredibly proud of his appendage as it matches his good looks, allowing him to have both a pretty and well-endowed cock.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

His sex drive is quite low. He doesn’t crave sexual intimacy as much as you probably would, hence why he would invest in toys of all sorts for you, once he can access them. In the early days of your relationship as a newlywed, he would experience the same need to be as close to you as much as possible and spend more time behind closed doors, wanting to understand your body and bask in the joys of being newlyweds. But as time rolled on and the newlywed phase disappeared, so did his urge. Being dutiful to his people and with the ongoing war, his focus lies elsewhere. Perhaps twice to thrice a month, you two indulge to keep the flame burning.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

It takes him a while to fall asleep due to his boundless energy. Leaving you after having a moment isn’t an act he enjoys since in his eyes, it makes him believe that he's using you, so he always stays. Most of the time, he’ll be the one awake while you’re curled up in his arms, fast asleep. Should you manage to have the energy to stay awake, some pillow talk would help to sedate him. Once he does drift into slumber, Finrod becomes a cuddler and a sleep talker. Softly murmuring your name as he snoozes and clings to you like a bear cub, he refuses to let you go the entire night.

Masterlist

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

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lamemaster · 2 months ago

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In Search of an Epilogue

Request: Finrod or any of the Fëanorians would match up very well with a faeries au, especially considering how the first men must have felt when meeting finrod. And one can't forget how beor liked finrod so much that he went with him as his vassal, or how they have to keep their oaths. To make it not too much like cannon though and more like an au keeping cannon in mind, it may fit best with modern s/o, or eldaritch elves, those are always fun.

Pairing: Finrod x Reader

Genre: Faerie/canon divergent au

Summary: He can sense your growing agitation, the building tempest of your mind. So close to snapping it. But he will be patient. He was no brute.

AN: Thanks for requesting! I love dark Faerie core. Idk how this turned out to be this apocalyptic but I hope you like it anon.

Next up- Ritual gone wrong for Amaras. Fall trope event list

You struggled against the chains that held you to the unlit room with blooming black mold that did not hold back from any chance of entering your mind.

Yet, all this could not erase the sound of his laughter from your memories. The silence of your cell could not hinder your fingers, which mimicked his as he wove the blooms of his forest into crowns.

Fey touched they called you or the mad one which the much less eloquent ones preferred. For none of your kind had ever escaped the encounter of the firstborn with a mind that held onto its sanity.

Legends say- just a fleeting sight of the Faeries can drive a man into oblivion. Some have reported women who were left dancing until their feet bled themselves into the ground while others spoke of fools who laughed their guts out.

It is impossible not to love such a noble sight. To not obey the distant kin who held the beauty greater than any in Arda.

Such fear had driven humans away from the forests of the fair folk. Mountains, forests, wonders of the old world were abandoned for the safety of seas and deserts which the firstborn did not frequent.

Wandering few who ventured into the lands of the past were cursed. For them to never return in most instances and in some the returning being was not human anymore. What returned was the spoil of the firstborn’s sport.

Such was the case for you. But your mother held her hope. Perhaps this cell was a mercy. A last ditch effort to hold you from the curse that clung to you. But you could no longer care for it.

You had to get to him. You could hear him calling your name. Why couldn’t anyone else hear it, the loud echo of his calls reverberated through your bones. Please…Please wait for me, you beg him in the splintering thoughts of your mind.

Your wrists strained against the ungiving manacles until the metal gave under the strange magic of your obsession. A subtle scent of pine filled the room. The scent of his magic.

To your mother, you leave crumpled words in hopes of a reunion in a better future. A farewell good enough to live without the grief of loss.

They had been the unmarred firstborn of Illuvatar once. Untouched by the sins that ran rampant in the veins of Middle Earth. But that was now ancient history, lost even to them.

The tales of Silmaril, love, valor, and honor washed away by the never ending eternity of their world. Valinor had long melted into the void, the Ainur blended into their elements. The Illuvatar called for all but for his priced first born, who were for eternity bound to the wretched lands of their birth.

They changed too. The stubborn unflinching elves had bowed to the passage of time and paid their price by losing themselves.

They had allowed the sins of their past to invade their present. This fall was a response to their absent creator. They did not need him, his Timeless Halls that he offered to all but them, or his salvation.

A bitter rejection of Illuvatar was all his kind possessed. The only vehement revenge they could extract. To marr what he once gloated in his music.

Toying with the pulsing call that Finrod tugs you with, he knows that you will come to him. You too, are unable to resist him.

He can sense your growing agitation, the building tempest of your mind. So close to snapping it. But he will be patient. He is no brute.

Nothing like his cousins, who sought humans for their lust. Both blood and carnal. The Sons of Feanor were a mess no matter what age.

No, Finrod was better. He was a friend. That’s what the men of his past called him. The gentle Nom. Their God. He quite enjoyed the worshiping look in their eyes. No different from the ones ages ago.

And now that the Valar were no longer, he was perhaps the closest to God that humans could ever get. He held no such expectations from Illuvatar, much less for the unfortunate secondborn. It was a mercy to fleeting lives of the secondborn to witness him. To be given a chance to love him.

It had been a spontaneous plan. You were too alike his Beor. Too trusting, too loyal, and too much in love with him. Finrod snickered, in a past life, he would have been struck by the integrity of love. Of wanting to honor your feelings and loyalty.

He could still remember his righteous debates with the human woman his brother once pined for. How taken by Illuvatar he had been. Promising to meet her in life beyond Arda ha...

The ages spent on this rock had taught him something else. The past he had weathered long ago.

He had urged your wandering feet into his flower ring. You, who in stupid naivety stepped into his forest. He led you astray, hunting for fawns that plopped you right into his palm.

And for the old times sakes he had put on quite a show. Seated in the valley of blossoms, he had let you observe him. Let you marvel at his innocent facade of beauty and awe that held the most potent of his glamor.

The marred remnants of the Lay of Leithian were now your story and his. In his woods, he was the Maia and you, a lost prey.

Soon you will be here with him. He will have snatched you from the Illuvatar’s world for a second time or perhaps more.

His mind wonders what web would he ensnare you in this time? Something alluring enough to bring Aegnor back into the play his brother detested so much.

Bodies are fickle. Yours was at its limit. If the constant droughts of madness had not already corroded your brain, the captivity of weeks certainly had affected your muscles which strained after long hours of crouching in the tiny cell.

Running through the woods was nowhere as dramatic as the tales of old times made it to be. You were not chased by a band of orcs (those were long gone anyway), nor did you stumble upon the crazy naked woman from the tale you could not remember, or witness the dance of half Maia.

You did however, after countless falls and scratches from the grouchy trees, ran into a sight worth more than any of the past stories. The sight of your lover, who in the dark of the forest glowed brighter than any star put in the skies by the ancient gods.

Transfixed by the sight you stood watching his delicate fingers strum the strings of an instrument you had never seen. It’s tune stripping you of all that you carried with you.

All your yearning spun into his song.

Your steps fall onto the uneven ground without a care. Unnumbered falls had failed to stop you for so long. I am here, you wanted to reassure him. Whisper to him because your heart could not handle scaring him away. I have come so, do not be so lonesome, I am here, your heart thundered a declaration.

This scene felt like home. As if lifetimes of your existence blended into this. You knew what would happen next, discarding any resistance your hands would cup his cheek. Caress away the burden of countless eternities.

In that moment, he- Finrod would break away from his trance. He would look at you with a pained expression. His brows would furrow at your sight. He would fuss over your scarred wrists, your bleeding feet, and the scratches on your body.

This was the dance, you were born with the knowledge of. And this was the revelation of that murky, buried beneath the layers of past fate.

As a Beor, as Pali, as Yjor, and as infinite other yous. You find him in every lifetime. I am here. The words that bring him back.

Finrod perhaps was one of the abandoned children of Eru. A cruel fae who wrecked your life in every reincarnation.

But at the gentlest touch, he became your Ingoldo. The elf of Aman. The great king of Nargothrond.

So without a will to be away from him any longer, you run to him. Your heart- full of fondness from your crooked yet wretched elf.

In your arms, Finrod blinks in a daze, his mind muddled after the tackling hug you engulfed him in. “I am here, Ingoldo,” you whisper, smiling above him. Thank you for finding me.” You caress his hair with an aching familiarity.

Within mere seconds the scheming fae crumbles. His eyes- clearing into the recognition of the past. An understanding of himself. In all the chapters of Arda, your story and his continued to write itself in different fonts.

Like the old tome dusted open to encounter it's crisp pages and subtle scent of its origin.

Under the stream of his tears he kisses you, this angst is afterall, the only remaining part of him. The heartbreak of numerous trials that Middle Earth has failed to devour.

With your mercy, Findarato is himself for those pleasant hours. Unabandoned by the fire of his creator. It is his curse afterall, to seek the end until forever. You are that end. The pleasant pause that relieves him of his darkness.

And when the worlds do end, he will beg for your forgiveness, the hundreds of you he has wronged. He will repent and grovel for the pain he has caused you. Because then, he will not be this.

That won’t be a chapter but an epilogue written with the promise of everlasting peace. An end of the Finrod of Middle Earth.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #finrod x reader #finrod felagund #fae au #dark faerie #canon divergence #fall event #🍂🍂🍂#unedited pls don't kill me

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imclimbingthestairsoforthanc · 6 months ago

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Okay! Thank you! 😭

I’d really like to know how finrod acts when hes in love with reader or has a massive crush on reader, like Headcanons for that situation or maybe like a fic where he gets all happy and giddy when reader is in the room, how he always tries to stick by readers side and always tries to spend more time with them, always praising them, slowly confessing his love in different ways.. (not nsfw!)

Thats all!

Thank you! (Again)!😭💖💖

*I rly hope this made sense cuz English isn’t my first language*

makes perfect sense and I love this request. its my first time writing Finrod and honestly Im so in love right now. this is just part one but there will be a part two coming :) i hope you like it

By The Sea - Finrod x Reader (Pt. 1)

Finrod finds more than he expected when taking a long holiday to his mothers home in Alqualondë.

A/N: for certain ..... purposes ..... making finrod do they same thing I do when im nervous, i went ahead and gave him his fathers rings

Finrod wanted to be sure that his name was at the top of the list to petition for the new project you proposed to be approved. He wasn’t quite sure exactly what the project was; all he knew was that it had something to do with ship construction and the royal family, and if his name in black ink was enough to keep you around, then write away he would.

It did not, in fact, keep you around. Finrod wasn’t sure why he thought it would. You were, after all, an architect, and visits to the royal court in the great hall were likely few and far between. After about a week and a half since the proposal–when he first was enamored with you, Finrod decided that he needed to do something.

“I have never heard a bigger lie,” said Artanis coolly.

Finrod shrugged. “It’s the truth,” he said, “They never gave directions to the worksite.”

Artanis sighed. “Why do you need to know anyways?”

“I have been tasked with checking up on the progress for the foundations of the project.”

Artanis cut her eyes. She didn’t believe him, but directed him to the worksite nonetheless.

Finrod went north for hours upon hours, it seemed; it was not even one hour. He could hear the wind cut through the fabric of the tents and the waves crash onto the rocky shores. The closer he got, the harder it was for him to think of something to say to you. He could call out your name, but then decided that would be too casual. Besides, you might think it strange that he held on so dearly to your name after a meeting so brief one couldn’t even call it a real meeting. He could introduce himself, but what would he say after that?

“Hello,” came a rich voice, and Finrod realized that deep in his thoughts he stumbled right upon you.

His clothes felt hot and his ring felt tight around his finger. He wondered if his hair had turned to frizz, as it tended to do with all the sea salt in the air. It was all he could do not to stutter.

“Hello,” he replied, “I am Finrod of the house of Finarfin.”

A moment passed.

“I know who you are,” you said. He wondered if you meant to be so harsh until you spoke again, voice softened, “What can I help you with?”

Finrod swallowed. “I have been tasked with checking on the progress on the foundations of the project,” he said. The lie barely slipped through his teeth.

“Really?” you said with a polite smile and twitching eyebrows that betrayed your confusion to the golden-haired prince, “They sent someone out two days ago.”

“Ahh,” Finrod said quietly, “Well there must have been some confusion.”

“I see.”

The silence was tangible. You swallowed. You remembered who he was–Findaráto Ingoldo, firstborn of the crown prince of the Falmari–how could you forget? You’d been dreaming of him since you’d seen him last Tuesday, but now that he was here, all those clever, witty things you said to him as you dreamed of meeting properly seemed to have left you.

Finrod watched your eyes dance to the scene behind him–when they were not glued to the opening of his shirt collar–and wondered what you were thinking about. It was probably the project at hand; but could it be him, as little as you were acquainted? Finrod had taken everything, however little it may be, you gave him when he saw you first last Tuesday and ran with it. You had not left his thoughts.

It occurred to him after a moment of awkward staring that maybe the conversation was over–the silence had gone on awkwardly long. He tried to think of something–anything–to say. Nothing came.

“Well, then,” he said, “I’d better get going. I’ll leave you to it; again I apologize for the confusion. I hope I have not disturbed your work.”

He didn’t want to leave.

“Not at all,” you said, too quickly for your liking, “You can stay as long as you like.”

You didn’t want him to leave.

He gave you a nod, and you cutsied before he turned to go. You turned back to your workbench, half disappointed that he left so soon and half excited that he came. You let out a shaky breath.

“In that case,” came the voice that you hopelessly couldn’t get enough of, “You wouldn’t mind if I stayed, would you? I would very much like to see the ‘hands-on’ aspect of this process.”

You turned and tried to hide the excitement in your eyes. “Of course, Your Highness.”

Finrod blushed. You drank in the sight. If the pink that spread across his cheeks was the last thing you ever saw, you’d be content.

***

“He is perfect in every way,” you said to Earwen, who, to your surprise, decided to take the weaving of the sails upon herself. You hadn’t expected the daughter of the king to engage so closely with the project, but, you supposed, if it was her talent and passion, so why not?

“I cannot get enough of him. I hope he never stops visiting me.”

Earwen smiled, “Will he visit for the celebration?”

“Of course, Your Highness” you said confidently, “He is the son of the crown prince! He wouldn’t miss it.”

Finrod was royalty, yes, but deep down you knew he’d come even if he wasn’t. Months of sitting in silence with two pairs of feet dangling in the salty water and choosing cold bread over a hearty dinner fit for a prince told you that even if you were dismissed from the project and cast to the jagged cliffs and treacherous temperament of the sea to the north, Finrod would come for you.

The door creaked open to reveal none other than Finrod himself.

“Fi–my prince,” you said politely, forgoing first-name use in mind of the royalty next to you.

Finrod didn’t seem to care. “There you are!” He said, “I have been looking for you. The eggs on the rocks by the lower dock have hatched!”

“Have they?”

“Yes,” he said, “And they have the loveliest silver down. Will you be free after six?”

Your hands stopped their movement, “I think so, but I–”

Finrod took your hand, as he always did when departing, and planted a hasty kiss on it, “Great. I will meet you then. You must see them!”

He ran out before you could answer. You giggled at his excitability and looked over to Earwen.

“Is that him?”

You smiled sheepishly and looked away.

“Yes,” you said. If you saw the smirk that played at her lips you would have seen that she knew more than she let on. “Absolutely perfect.”

#the silm fandom #the silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #silmarillion #finrod #finrod felagund #finrod x reader #findarato #ingoldo #findarato x reader

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felagund-the-valiant · 11 months ago

Text

Masterlist

Argon

Big Hands and Tiny Paws - 578 words - tags: fluff

Beleg

In All Shapes and Sizes - 612 words - tags: fluff

Caranthir

SFW Alphabet

Curufin

Your Father's Son - 1.3k words - tags: Curufin has a bit of an identity crisis, fluff

Fingon

All I Want Is You - 1.1k words - tags: best friends to lovers, first kiss Office Shenanigans (NSFW) - 1.5k words - tags: smut, semi-public sex A Heavy Crown - 992 words - tags: hurt/comfort, mention of canon character death SFW Alphabet

Finrod

Birthday Delights - 712 words - tags: fluff, mild nsfw mentions/suggestive content Bring Back What Once Was Mine - 1k words - tags: mix of fluff and angst, mention of canon character death

Galdor

General hcs Procrastination Troubles - 1.1k words - tags: fluff, unintentional secret dating, sibling's best friend trope

Glorfindel

Having a crush on a reader who's friends with Ecthelion

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 1 year ago

Note

For the Vampire au

Can you do (trick) for vampFinrod x reader

With prompt "Why are you impressed? You should be terrified."

Not dark please and thank you

"Revelation"

Pairing: Vampire! Finrod x Reader (Guest of Finrod / Second person POV)

Location and time: 19th century England

Prompt : 6 - " Why are you impressed? You should be terrified."

Themes: Angst-ish | Happy ending

Warnings: Vampirism

Wordcount: 1000+ words

Summary:

Minors DNI | You are responsible for the media you consume

A/n: this is for the @fellowshipofthefics October challenge. Two more slots are available for requests, but prompts 4 and 6 (for Vampire! Manwë and Vampire! Finrod) are out. The rules and prompts for requests can be read here.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Finrod's study was a dimly lit sea of wonders, full of ancient treasures. There was an impressive tapestry covering the expanse of one wall. A dark but mighty beast lay on the ground. Above it, a magnificent white horse reared, its rider bringing down their sword to deliver the killing blow. You could not help but walk up to it and admire the scene portrayed in centuries-old wool.

The tapestry was always there whenever you called on your mentor of an evening, but you never thought to observe its beauty so closely till now.

“Ahh! I see you have found the Demon of the Island."

You shivered. “Was that its name?”

“That and worse.” Finrod appeared by your shoulder without even making a sound. It was as if he moved without even stirring the air around him. You startled. “My ancestor slayed it many a century ago and was richly rewarded for it.”

You turned to face him and gave him a measured look. “What happened?”

“A werewolf happened. That was what the beast was. A werewolf.” Finrod walked over to a chest of drawers by the window and picked up a crystal decanter full of clear, amber liquid. He offered you a glass. You refused. “He terrorized the good people of Tol-in-Gaurhoth for months before my ancestor brought it to heel.”

“Your ancestor slayed him?” You looked at the tapestry again. The warrior was exceedingly fair to look upon, and his hair fell free about his shoulders like molten gold. His eyes were a vivid cornflower blue. They also looked familiar. Too familiar. You study it even more, taking in the warrior’s countenance, the shape of his eyes, his lips. Finrod’s own was a replica of them all.

It is as if I am staring at the same person.

“Indeed.” Finrod moved to sit by a large fireplace, and invited you to join him. “Lord Edennil was the only warrior who challenged the creature and lived to talk of it.”

“Edennil?” Fear slowly bloomed and surged just beneath your skin, prompting you to stop mid-stride. “Is that not one of your names, sir?”

It was Finrod’s turn to startle, but he quickly regained his composure. “I do not know what you mean, y/n.”

“Yes, you do.” You continued with growing alarm after stealing another glance at the tapestry. The hair, the sword, and the demeanor all screamed of him. “Edennil. It was what that stranger called you when they stopped by your door two nights ago. I know of that word. My governess taught me. It means friend of men.”

Finrod took a step toward you, his eyes widening in shock. “That visit was in the dead of night! How did you even know of it?”

“I was in the library searching for a book.” You took a step back and looked for the doors. They were near, but if Finrod was not what he appeared to be, a mild-mannered wealthy nobleman from a foreign land, would you have time to make it to the doors and the outside world? “And that warrior looks like you in every way. Is it you, sir? Are you the warrior in that tapestry?"

Finrod blanched.

“What are you, sir?” You demanded and took a another step toward the doors. “The truth, now. All of it. That is all I ask.”

The nobleman made no move to come near you. He stood where he was, his eyes full of gloom, and said, “Yes. Yes. I am the warrior in the tapestry. Is that what you wanted to hear? I slayed the werewolf. All of that was my doing.”

“And your late-night visitor?”

“A fellow warrior met by chance on the road. He stood beside me, shoulder to shoulder, as we fought the beast and its minions. Beren was badly wounded, and I…I saved his life. He has been a faithful friend since then.”

“That is all well and good, but it still does not answer my question.”

“Which is?”

“What are you?”

Finrod sighed in defeat. “I suppose my secret would come into the light sooner or later. Very well. You desire to know the real me. Well, this is the real me, y/n.”

He hissed like a large, wild cat and bared his teeth. Pearly white fangs glistened in the light of the fire. You took a step toward him, curious despite your fear.

A vampire. My host is a vampire. After so many years of us writing letters and him teaching me music, I remained in the dark until now.

“Most impressive,” you declared after your curiosity had been satisfied.

"Why are you impressed?” Finrod sputtered in disbelief. “You should be terrified."

“Should I be terrified?”

“No. I would never harm you, y/n.” He went back to his place by the fire. “But I cannot let you go, either. Not when you know what I am.”

Can I blame him for wanting to shield himself from the judgment and fear of others? And perhaps living with him may not be so terrible, after all. I could learn so much from him.

“Then... Then perhaps I can make myself useful to you,” you offered. “You rarely go out during the day because—"

"Sunlight weakens my constitution," he supplied.

"I see." It certainly provided more clarity and explained some of his strange behavior, like the thick curtains that were always drawn together during lessons in his music room. "I could run errands for you. See to any visitors that come calling during that time. Mind the house and the servants for you while you rest.”

Finrod regarded you with suspicion. “Is this a trick?”

“No, sir,” you told him. “I give you my word that it is not.”

He turned away and took his time to consider your proposal. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he said, “There will be a ceremony binding you and me as master and familiar. No harm will come to you, but this ritual is necessary. Do you understand?”

You nodded and wondered what this ceremony would entail and what you would have to dress. “I accept.”

“Good. Now come, join me by the fire.” Finrod smiled mildly. “I have much to tell you about me and my strange life."

#fotfics #fotfics trick or treat #finrod #finrod felagund #vampire! finrod #finrod imagine #the silm #the silm imagine #finrod x reader #x reader #reader insert #reader insert request

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lovefairymina · 1 year ago

Note

"Come on, Finrod. Let me come with you on this journey," you begged as he was preparing to depart with Beren, who had come to seek his aid on his quest to claim a silmaril from Morgoth's crown.

"No, my darling. It is too dangerous. It's better if you stay here," Finrod said.

"Finrod. I already stole one of his biggest dragons. I might as well come to steal his jewelry," you said while pointing at Ancalagon, who was casually laying in the main hall, watching you and Finrod. "Don't you also think it would be very beneficial to have a dragon to assist you on this quest?" you questioned.

"No. I do not want to risk you and Ann getting captured and besides -- Ann is a talking dragon. He can do whatever he wants," Finrod said back.

"I want to steal," Ancalagon said with a grin.

Staring at you with a visible look of defeat, he chuffed with a sassy eye roll. “You steal enough of my jewels, you don't need anymore. And you,” he turned to point to you, a slight increase in his authority, “need to keep your behind home. If anything happened, I'd never forgive myself. The both of you can go explore the caves if you want an adventure.” His hands waved through the air with exasperation, hoping his messages were assertive enough.

#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {finrod}#silm imagines #finrod x you #finrod x reader #finrod imagine #finrod #finrod felagund #finrod ingoldo #atarfinde #arafinweans #house of finarfin #middle earth imagine

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lucifer5lucy · 18 days ago

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Can't emphasise how bloody much this is true!

The incessant urge to bury my self and read the entire works of tolkien in one sitting is creeping into the back of my mind everyday.

The fall of gondolin is pretty great too.

One thing I love about the Silmarillion is that because it’s so massive, its fans have to specialize.

Like I love everything but my Silm major is in Finrod studies, with a minor in obscure background characters.

Reblog this post with your Silmarillion “speciality,”

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ladyoflindon · 4 days ago

Note

Hello ✨I hope you are doing well)You can request Glorfindel (if you are not writing for him, then Gil Galad/Celebrimbor/Eonwe. For whomever you feel more comfortable🤗)Some light melancholy with the atmosphere of the phrase "In a room full of the best works of art, I would still look at you." The reader says this to the elf and calms his worries and insecurities.Reader Maiar Namo.I want to surround these elves with maximum comfort, support and strong hugs🥹🫶🏻English is not my native language, I apologize in advance for mistakes😅

Work of Art (Glorfindel x female Maia of Mandos)

Glorfindel had a hard time adjusting to the Halls of Mandos. He had been there since the Fall of Gondolin, and he had to come to terms with dying, since he had been raised to believe that the lives of the Eldar were eternal, that they wouldn't end.

Yet, here he was, in the halls of the dead. He had a hard time accepting his new reality, but there was one who made it easier.

Nolwendë, she was called, the lady of wisdom. A Maia of Mandos, an ethereal being. Her alabaster skin shone even in the gloom. Her hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall. When he had first laid eyes on her, his only thought was: she's beautiful. As time went by, however, she became so much more than that.

In Glorfindel's view, she saw far beneath the surface of his thoughts. In her presence, he always felt that she understood him better than any other ever had. And so he found himself spilling his thoughts and confiding in her, even more so than to his close friend Ecthelion of the Fountain.

"You're deep in thought, Laurë," Nolwendë noted. "What troubles your mind so?"

"It is nothing," Glorfindel sighed, though he knew it was pointless to hide his thoughts from her. In truth, he had felt this way for a while now, the feeling of not being enough. Especially in the Halls of Mandos, where the souls of elves far greater than he rested.

Why did she keep coming back to him, when there were other souls she could have tended to? He could understand why she stayed away from the sons of Fëanor, but what about Fingon the Valiant? What about Finrod Felagund? Why him?

"Your mind wanders far," she spoke softly as she walked, almost like a glide, up to him, her fingers reaching to trace his jaw. "You're tense."

"Why do you stick with me?"

Her grey eyes widened, and Glorfindel stared into their depths, mesmerised by the ethereal colour of her irises. "Why I stick with you?" she murmured.

"Your thoughts are fascinating, for one," she replied. "You've had an interesting life, crossing the Helcaraxë to Middle-earth, living in Nevrast and finally Gondolin."

She reached out and caught one of his long gold locks in her hand, playing with his hair. "You have beautiful hair, and its radiance far outshines that of Fingon or Finrod..."

"But the most beautiful thing, Glorfindel the Golden, is your soul," she finally looked at him, her eyes boring into his. "You're thoughtful, kind, compassionate. To me, those qualities matter far more than anything superficial."

She shifts to lean her forehead against his back, her arms coming to encircle him. "In a room full of the best works of art, I would still look at you. You're beautiful, in every way possible. Your heart is as golden as your hair."

She presses a kiss to his forehead, which elicited a small smile from him. "You're precious to me, Laurë, and that's all that matters. Until the end of time, I will look at you."

"Even if the Valar choose to return you to Middle-earth, I will go with you. I will never leave you, never leave your side."

Her lips curved gently upwards. "Because I love you, Laurë. And you're the most precious to me. Don't you ever forget that."

Bonus: Glorfindel brags to everyone he encounters in the Halls of Mandos, and later when he gets re-embodied, that the Maia of Mandos loves him

#lotr #tolkien #writers on tumblr #silmarillion #glorfindel #glorfindel x reader #glorfindel x oc

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sunnydaleherald · 9 months ago

Text

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, March 3rd - Monday, March 4th

WESLEY: This world must be a terrible disappointment to you. ILLYRIA: Grievous. WESLEY: I'm not too impressed with it myself.

~~Underneath~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

On the Other Paw by madimpossibledreamer (Assassin's Creed crossover, pre-Shaun/Xander, Teen)

The Fire Within by veronyxk84 (Spike, Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Cure-All by veronyxk84 (Spike, Giles, PG-13)

Присоединяйся and other Buffy/Angel ficlets posted by B_E_S (G and T ratings, in Russian)

Helen of Troy - 1753 by Empire_of_the_Words (Angel/Darla, T)

love on the weekend by threefourtango (Giles/Jenny, Explicit)

Those Left Behind by Luna_delCielo (LotR and Silmarillion crossover, Buffy/Finrod Felagund, G)

Immaculate by vampbrat (Spike/Angelus, M)

Redemption Act by NAOA (Faith, T)

Mending Words and Making Mistakes by NAOA (Giles & Wesley, Roger Wyndam-Pryce, G)

Hidden Princess by Vathara (Sengoku Nights crossover, Buffy, T)

Meeting The by Evil_Little_Dog (Buffy, Connor, Angel/Buffy, Angel/Darla, G)

Love in Chains by Pinkperson (Buffy/Angel, T)

Calling by Coraniaid (Buffy/Faith, T)

historians by softestbutch (Buffy/Faith, T)

Better Than Good by MadeInGold (Angel/Oz, G)

Une Question De Point De Vue by PtiteMac (Buffy/Giles, T, in French)

Untitled Spike x reader story by evieelyzabethh (not rated, cw blood and blood loss)

From Wrecked to Gone by Lilacsandorangeblossoms (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Horrible day by Lilacsandorangeblossoms (Buffy/Spike, R)

Fortune Cookie Epiphany by Slaymesoftly (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

Untitled Giles drabble (Giles glanced at Willow's laptop...) by NotASlayer (not rated - T?)

[Chaptered Fiction]

The Dawnster Drabbles - Chapter 1-4 by Passion4Spike (Dawn, Buffy/Spike, T)

A Slice of Cherry Blossoms - Chapter 1-4 (COMPLETE!) by MCorey1317 (Buffy/Angel, Explicit)

In Your Dreams, Ch. 1 by Geliot99 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17)

Tales of the Sea, Ch. 1-2 by DeamonQueen (Buffy/Spike, PG-13)

[Images, Audio & Video]

Two new story banners by veronyxk84 (Buffy/Spike, worksafe)

Drawings: cordy n angel both have tattoos…. by artsying-ifer (worksafe)

Drawings: Buffy, Willow, Tara, Spike, Angel by baleful-blurbs (worksafe)

Spike by mintcakeart (worksafe)

Faith gifset by andremichaux (worksafe, some blood)

A newly Illyriad Wes by genericaces (worksafe)

Manip: “Someone You Loved” by itslilahhere (Wesley/Lilah, possibly NSFW)

Willow meme manip by spar1axkilla (worksafe)

the season 6 promo is the most badass thing ever so I had to paint a rendition of it by jamieejamss (Buffy, worksafe)

[Reviews & Recaps]

Hush by st-just, centrally-unplanned

Halloween by inconsistentlywrittensoul

Season 1 Rewatch The Witch by spuffybot

Buffy Season 1 Rewatch Teachers Pet by spuffybot

Buffy the Vampire Slayer (1992) Whedon's Version - Part 1/3: Changes to the Script and Story by sunnydalestudies

what a shit job season 7 did of building the tension by angelthemanspanker

Controversial opinion - The Body is overrated (cont'd) by thetopher, Plasma

I’m sure this has been asked before, but who’s got your vote for best actor and why? by funishin

Lessons S7 E1 (Buffy and the Art of Story Podcast) - Lisa Lilly

Episode 18 - Moonshine, a Sloe Gin Fizz, and Shoes (Reptile Boy) | The Sunnydale Diaries - A Buffy the Vampire Slayer Podcast

[Recs & In Search Of]

mklauber is looking for a specific fanfic (Xander takes Buffy to a cabin to detox from drugs)

[Fandom Discussions]

i could fix connor ats by all-seeing-ifer, justafriendofxanders, greensword101

Spike’s curly hair in late season 5/early season 6 shouldn’t have been because... by aphony-cree

The perfect job for Buffy is firefighter by aphony-cree

the little bits of accidental world-building related foreshadowing by coraniaid

Re: do you know if Dawn is ever brought up on Angel? etc. by coraniaid

The only thing more powerful than the Buffy writers’ reluctance to give screentime to a woman over the age of thirty... by coraniaid

1 of the many things that I love about The Gentlemen by spidey-loving-starkid

[the scoobies putting up the dozens of potentials in buffy's house is so funny. do they know angel lives in an empty hotel] by angelthemanspanker

I like how Illyria used it pronouns before it got reborn in Fred by angelthemanspanker

Further buffy s7/angel s4 crossover thoughts (what would be the last straw for Angel's hospitality?) by angelthemanspanker and justafriendofxanders

btvsverse characters mario kart choices (real) by buffysbitca

Re: I always got the impression Illyria was a he/him in their original god king form... by genericaces

Drawings and thoughts about a s5 au: Lindsey bonding with Gunn by genericaces

Get yourself a Pike by hare-majesteit-aurelius

Gunn was mandated by the Network (cont'd) by Kendar, Plasma, AlphaFoxtrot

Willow's revenge by The Whirlwind and others

Are there any vampires besides Spike who would ever seek out a soul? by The Whirlwind, Stoney, vampmogs and others

Would this be a better or worse way of handling Connor in your opinion? by Capital-Shake-313

Religion in Buffy by Cha0sCat and others

If Buffy had aired on a network like HBO, which scene(s) do you think would be darker in tone or more graphic? by funishin

When is each character at their best appearance (hair style, dress, etc.)? by jonaskoelker

Plan for Spike by Icy-Morning6813

Tell me your favorite wholesome moment! by Sudden-Star-7190

Hellmouths not on Earth? by DifficultRice7075

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

Did anyone else notice that Buffy and Angel are on Disney+ in the U.S. now? via eddyx

Luke Perry and the Untold History of ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ | Vanity Fair

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #angel the series

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onthesandsofdreams · 3 years ago

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6SS: Finrod x Reader: Eyes.

Out of the blue, Finrod cupped your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs, “I never truly noticed your eyes were this brown.”

You arched a brow, and opened your mouth to speak, “They’ve always been, Fin.”

Finrod shakes his head, “I know, and while it always drew me how brown they are, today I saw the sun shining on them. And, Valar, the sparks of amber and gold that I saw! You took my breath away, beloved.”

You flushed, and knew that Finrod would not miss the heat on your cheeks, “Thank you,” you said softly.

#finrod x reader #finrod #finrod felagund #finrod felagund x reader #reader insert #the silmarillion fic #the silmarillion #six sentence sunday #au: canon divergence

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doodle-pops · 1 year ago

Text

Shadows of Honour

Finrod x reader

A/N: I have an unhealthy obsession with angst and since Christmas is close by, I'd love to share it with you all :)

Warnings: female reader, pregnancy, abandonment, arguments, heavy angst, angst no comfort

Words: 1.8k

Synopsis: “If… If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

Rivers of tears cascaded down your burning cheeks as you stood face-to-face with the man you loved. His awareness and compassion for your distress was etched onto his face, unfortunately, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze. Those once–beloved blue–green eyes failed to hold the honesty and sincerity they once did; instead, they remained fixed on the floor, avoiding contact with you or the round, protruding bump that bore testament to your shared love. He heaved a heavy sigh, fully aware that explaining his reasons wouldn’t make sense to you, even as he allowed you to vent your pain and his pride. Were his actions truly so cruel and heartless as to bring his wife to tears and endless pleas?

“You can’t leave me; you can’t leave us!” your voice trembled with desperation, your hand instinctively cradling your belly, emphasising the life within. “You can’t abandon your family and people for the sake of a mortal you don’t even know, Finrod!”

Lifting his head to meet your tear–stained cheeks, he reached out to cradle your face, but his gesture was met with swift rejection. Your swatting hands pushed his away, and you took a step back, staring at him in disbelief. Controlling your breathing became a struggle; in your current state, maintaining composure was no easy feat. It was even more challenging when your husband, the one who was supposed to protect and cherish you, seemed to have lost all reason and logic. What happened to his sense and sensibility?

Covering your mouth in a futile attempt to stifle your sobs, you fought to speak with a broken voice, “Don’t...don’t try to smooth things over when you know I’m right. Don’t silence me! I have every right to be unhappy with your choice. You’re choosing a mortal over me, your daughter, and our unborn child! How else am I supposed to react?”

“You need to calm down, Y/N; it’s not good for the baby—”

“Don’t tell me what’s good for me when your actions say otherwise,” you hissed with discontent, refusing to let him dictate what was right or wrong, especially when he couldn’t seem to decide for himself.

Frowning, his eyes darted hesitantly to the door, sensing a third presence nearby before returning to your panting figure. Your disapproval of his touch stung, but he understood that your nerves needed calming and your mind needed settling. He observed as you instinctively rubbed your belly, the storm of emotions causing your little one to shift uncomfortably. Dragging out this argument seemed futile when he knew that his final decision was unchangeable. It was only a matter of time until you comprehended the purpose behind his choice. Without further ado, he spun on his heels, making his way over to the closet, gathering clothes and hunting gear. Prolonging the debate wouldn’t lead to a resolution; you couldn’t convince him to stay, and he was steadfast in his commitment to aid the mortal.

“So you’re not going to say anything?! You’re not going to fight with me, fight for me, fight for us?! You’re just going to let yourself be swayed by some mortal who wants to fall in love with an elf and give her the Silmaril? The same jewel your cousins would kill for?” Your voice regained its vigour, tinged with frustration, as you approached the closet where he continued to nonchalantly pack his belongings. Your accusations stung like barbs, and yet he felt the pain even more acutely with every word you hurled his way. He knew the consequences; it was his very understanding of them that fuelled his turmoil.

Biting his lip to suppress his trembling emotions, he kept his eyes averted, focusing on the task before him. He didn’t want you to see his own turmoil, as it would only make you feel worse. Your stress levels were high enough, and he racked his brain for a way to soothe you without further escalation. “Please, don’t worry, ĕrĕmelda. I will return to you, safe and sound,” he whispered softly. “This is the will of Eru, and I must honour it.”

Your voice cut through the air, laden with a mix of disbelief and frustration. “Eru? Did he also instruct you to swear an oath, marry me, and start a family, only to abandon us for some mortal who wants to show the world his bravery by pursuing a maiden out of his league? I thought you believed that Eru didn’t intend for elves and mortals to be together. Why are you acting in direct opposition to that belief? And, for that matter, why did you keep the oath and the foresight of your own death hidden from me?”

As the trousers slipped from his grasp, he turned to face your puffy eyes and cheeks. The remnants of his irritation dissipated in the face of your broken state. His mouth opened to reply, but his words faded away as he studied your misery. He was causing more harm than good, and he couldn’t quite understand why.

With deliberate steps, he approached you, his hands tentatively reaching out to touch your arms. He noticed your lack of resistance and gently drew you into a hug. Holding you close for the first time since that morning, he breathed in your scent, savouring the fragrance of gardenias and lilacs that clung to your skin. He felt your baby move within you, and it was a poignant reminder of the life you carried—a life he seemed intent on leaving behind. Finrod knew deep down that this might be the last time he held you like this, yet he hadn’t anticipated that the parting would be so fraught with tears and agony. Leaving for a self–imposed mission in the name of honour and duty felt hollow when he longed to stay with you and your children, the family he had fought so hard to build.

In his heart, he knew he was doing more harm than good.

His children.

His heart ached at the thought of his beloved children—his eldest daughter, Lairelótë, and his unborn child. The child he cherished and sang lullabies to every night would grow up without their father’s presence, knowing of him only through stories and tales as he would be revered among his people. And his daughter, what would she think of him for leaving, for prioritising a mortal’s quest over his own family? The weight of these realisations bore down on him, causing turmoil in his mind. What was he truly doing? He had vowed to give his life for his family, yet here he was, seemingly throwing it away.

“If…” he began, his words trailing off as he listened to the heart–wrenching cries of his wife in his arms. Your sobs cut through him like a blade, each one striking his heart with painful force. “If…If I had told you about my sworn oath and my impending death, would you still have loved me? Would you have accepted my love? Would you have given me a chance to experience the joy of everlasting love and family, or would you have turned me away?”

You found yourself speechless, unsure of how to respond. His question stunned you, anger and bewilderment coursing through your veins. It felt as if he had dropped a ton of bricks on you with his words. “Finrod, I...” you faltered, struggling to put your thoughts into coherent words.

As he continued to rub your back, your hiccups grew stronger, a peculiar trait of yours that had often turned gloomy moods into moments of laughter. However, not even that unique trait could lighten the heaviness of the situation today. Glancing towards the door, his senses alert, he knew precisely who the third presence was. He fervently hoped that she didn’t have to witness the full extent of this devastating argument, which could only amplify the pain of his departure.

“F–Finrod,” you hiccupped, your voice shaking, “do you understand the significance of all of this?”

He hummed thoughtfully, his hand continuing its soothing motion on your back, gradually calming the movement in your stomach.

Taking a deep breath, you rephrased your question, “This mortal knows that his quest will lead to death. By asking you to fulfil this oath, he’s essentially asking you to die for him, so that he can have his happily ever after while I suffer. He knows that he wouldn’t survive without help. Why accept the quest in the first place? Why risk a precious life? Doesn’t he consider you important?”

Finrod sighed, his tone carrying a mix of patience and empathy. “His heart is young and easily swayed by emotions, arimeldanya. Love often drives us to do whatever it takes to be with the one we cherish.”

“But why does he have to take you away from me?” you pleaded; your voice tinged with desperation. “Tell him to ask someone else, to be less selfish. I need you; we need you.”

A small chuckle escaped Finrod at the pout that formed on your tear–streaked face. It was a brief moment of levity amidst the turmoil, a fleeting reminder of the bond you shared. Sliding his hand up your back, his fingers gently cradled your cheeks, tilting your head to meet his gaze. You saw the tears welling in his eyes, an ethereal light that shimmered with sorrow. To you, he was an angelic presence, a source of joy and happiness.

Testing the waters, he gauged your reaction before leaning in, capturing your lips in a tender, bittersweet kiss. The initial surprise was replaced by a shared intimacy, a final connection before his departure and the sorrow that lay ahead. His lips met yours with a mixture of longing and pain, a poignant reminder of the love you both shared. It was a memory to hold onto, a testament to the strength of your bond even in the face of adversity.

“I swore an oath to his House to aid in times of need, he had summoned me to fulfil it, I cannot deny its call. I can only hope that this quest won’t tear me away from you,” he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion. “And I promise, I won’t give up without a fight if there’s a chance for my wish to be granted.”

“This still isn’t fair Finrod,” you replied, your voice soft but firm. “You’ve made a decision without me and I can’t change that. You’re so selfish...”

Eyes downturn, he licked his lips and cast one more glance at the door, sensing the presence fading. He knew his words were false hope when he had foreseen a certain destiny about him, but it was necessary to still give it. “There’s still a way to rewrite the future; it is not set in stone. My death does not have to be this way. Have faith in me, I will return to you and our dear little ones.”

Masterlist

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lamemaster · 11 months ago

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Love her, not me

Request: Hey I love your writing! Really like your finrod works I love him with an edain reader and I think the potential internal conflict with him about amarie and reader would be so juicy??? "Do I wait for my past elven lover who will be with me for eternity? Or explore this new love with an edain who will leave me eventually." THE DRAMA

Pairing: Finrod x Reader

Genre: Angst and ✨DRAMA✨

AN: This has been coming a long time I am sorry for the delay. I hope you like it anon💕

"Don't be so nice to me, it might get my hopes up." You push away the cup of tea presented in front of you.

Seated next to you Finrod's smile freezes at your words. An awkward but perfectly diplomatic smile settles on his lips. It is unlike the one you have come to love.

The king of Nargothrond clears his throat, his eyes wandering all over the room. Landing anywhere but at you. Perhaps it was too much to even look you in the eye. "It is merely tea between friends. We are still friends are we not?" He asks, his voice meek. It is different from the elf who manages to charm every race on the face of Arda.

"Friends do not cancel meetings to meet up for tea, friends do not insist on meeting alone; devoid of any other company." Your words are sharp. They seem to cut the air laden with tension between you both. "And we Finrod can never just be friends. My heart won't allow that without stringing itself to foolish hope."

This marked your last chanced meeting with the King of Nargothrond.

Falling for Finrod Felagund was foolish but also foolishly easy. It was easy to forget that the world did not revolve around him. He, who was magnificent compared to any other creature to walk on the face of Arda, was not the center of the world. A presence too perfect that it felt as if Eru himself had taken the pain of shaping every inch of him.

So, yes you fell in love with him. It was inevitable. But you never intended it to be anything more than the burden of your own heart. You were afterall too prideful to confess to him like every other stary-eyed Edain.

Your entire time was devoted to transcribing the oral legends of your language to his while keeping your eyes from staring at him for too long. But somehow, your eyes met with his smiling ones. A fragment of the moment that you wished to never have happened.

The sole moment was enough to tug the King of Nargothrond by your side. What started as a conversation about rolling r’s lent itself into debates, evening strolls, sharing books, watching him play a harp, tracing constellations until the stars led your hand into his. And it fit so perfectly. As if it was made to be held by him.

The path from fingertips to the caress of lips was a slippery slope. It felt too right to cradle his face in your palms and feel his lips on yours. His curls slipped into your fingers settling into your palms softly.

You were eager. You wanted it more than anything else. Perhaps it was the eagerness of possessing that kind of love, that blinded you.

But it did not take long for the sweetness of your kiss to turn into the bitterness of the realization. Your love was doomed to perish from its conception. The celebration of Finrod’s reciprocity to your affection was dulled by a growing ache of the truth that he was not yours. You had known it. The King of Nargothrond had a lover waiting back in the blessed lands.

You pulled away from him. Your hands slipped off from his curls. Your heart had protested every single movement that took you away from him. You ached to be closer despite the abyss of truth between you and him.

However, more painfull the look of horror on Finrod’s face or how he had stormed off leaving you alone. It was a rejection that came with the broken hope of acceptance.

For weeks you did not see him. Those felt the heaviest of your mortal life. So, you busied yourself in finishing your work during the days and blacked out drunk at night. But even a glimpse of him seemed to evade you.

Bundling your misery into the fevor of finishing your labor, you stained your hands with ink. There wasn’t much that you could offer him but your absence. Then so be it. Finrod would never have to remember you or the insignificant kiss that centuries could bury into a forgotten memory.

You were ready to give him the present of your absence, until he showed up. Just the sight of him had deluded your mind into thinking perhaps…he too felt something.

But the Finrod who returned was different. He returned with an oblivion to whatever had transpired between you both. As all your heartache was a construct of your own making. For a fleeting moment you believed it.

He greeted you with a warm smile, the same smile that once marked the beginning of your friendship to him. It was as if the pages of time had turned, erasing the chapters of heartache and leaving only the ink of indifference.

"You seem to have been quite occupied in my absence," he remarked, glancing at the scattered parchments and ink-stained hands that bore witness to the agony you had poured into your work.

Your heart, which had dared to hope, now sank like a stone. The weight of his obliviousness pressed upon you, and you realized that the love that had gripped your soul had failed to leave a lasting mark on his memory.

With a forced smile, you replied, "Yes, I've been immersed in my tasks. A distraction, if you will." The bitterness of those words hung in the air, a subtle reminder of the wounds that refused to heal.

He could have fooled you, if not for the foreign distance that loomed between you both. Opting for the seat farthest from you, he did not pour over your work like he always did. He still laughed and rambled passionately about the characters of ancient legends but it was contained. It was King of Nargothrond not Finrod you had to yourself for a second of your life.

You played along the role he assigned you. A friend, a coworker, nothing more. It was better this way.

The distancing should have stirred anger within you, should have humiliated your pride, but instead, it became a silent torment that gnawed at your soul. Nights were spent in solitude, your mind spinning with futile thoughts of how to bridge the gap, how to reclaim the love that had slipped through your fingers.

In the quiet moments, when the world slept, your heart wrestled with the demons of longing. You crafted scenarios in your mind, scenarios where the King of Nargothrond melted away, and Finrod, with the sparkle in his eyes and the warmth in his smile, returned to you.

Perhaps his cruelty would have harderened your heart. Stripped you of irrsupressable longing had the slivers of his own desire not slipped into your meeting with him.

Finrod was subtle in his desperation, a master at concealing the traces of his own desire. A mere mortal might not have detected the nuances, the subtle shifts in his gaze, the hesitation in his voice, or the way his fingers lingered on the pages of your work. But your heart, fueled by its own yearning, became a relentless seeker of any sign, any glimmer of reciprocation.

The unexpected errands, the discussions about tea, the orchestrated crossings of your paths—each encounter with Finrod seemed to hold the promise of something more, yet every meeting left you with the bitter taste of a friendship that refused to evolve.

In a moment of desperate rebellion against the unending cycle of longing and unfulfilled desires, you threw yourself into the arms of a random stranger who happened to approach you during dinner. It was a bold move, driven by the need to sever the invisible threads that bound you to the King of Nargothrond.

You felt his eyes on you, a gaze that had become a constant presence in your life. The decision to embrace the arms of another was not driven by the desire for a new connection but rather a desperate attempt to shake Finrod from his silent yearning. It was a calculated move, a ploy to force him to confront the reality of your actions.

As the stranger engaged you in conversation, you played along, allowing the charade to unfold. Finrod's gaze, once filled with a subtle longing, now bore witness to a scene that shattered the illusion of exclusivity. It was a painful spectacle, a dagger aimed at the heart of a love that had become entangled in a web of unspoken words.

You wrapped your arms around the stranger whose name felt awkward on your tongue. You let the man whisper filth in your ears. Words that could have been loud enough for Finrod to hear. You let his hands roam all over you. And then while you could still feel Finrod’s gaze glaring at you, you led the man to your room.

You spent the night with him breaking all and every chance of ever attaining love you desired the most. Even as the man held your body, kissed your lips, you could not help but wonder how he, the one you love, would have done it.

Finrod would have been more gentle, he would have never degraded you with the speech the man used taking you for an easy catch. He would perhaps have held you hand. But you don’t know. You will never know.

The tears that flow down your face that night are not of pleasure but of sorrow. Even as your body trembles with pleasure, your heart feels nothing but the pain of the hurt you have caused him.

After kicking out the stranger from your room, you lay back down on the sweat soaked sheets that smelled nothing like what you had once hoped for.

You made the choice for him. You have surrendered to the fair elleth who waits for your beloved seas apart. The fates have played as they were set to do. He will be happier next to her, you tell yourself. He had to be.

Someone out of you both had to find joy. It had to be him.

In the final moments of Finrod's breath, his eyes remained fixed on you. There, right beside him, you kissed his wounds with gentle lips, a tender gesture in the face of impending darkness.

"You are one stubborn elf, Nom," you chuckled, your arms wrapping around him. In this moment, nothing held you back from him. In the passing moments of death, you could love him freely, even if only as a figment in his mind.

“I love you,” he whispered aloud, a confession that resonated through the darkness of Angband. Your kisses paused, surprise flickering in your eyes even within the dream. “I love you so much that I cannot stop. I tried,” tears streaked down his cheeks. “I tried not to love you. I stopped Aegnor, but I myself could not resist. I still love you very much.” Ages worth of grievances and confessions spilled from his lips.

You wiped away his tears with hands that still held the fragrance of ink and paper. “I love you, Finrod. There is no other reason for my existence but to love you,” you spoke, tilting his chin to kiss him once more. “All my actions, all my motivations have been for nothing but you.” He knew it better than anyone.

He had known it, and the knowledge cut deeper than any wound. His inability to act on his feelings had led you to make a choice, a choice to bow to a man you never loved.

Bleeding out on the freezing ground, Finrod, the firstborn of Arafinwe, dreamed not of Valinor, his siblings, his parents on nether shores, or of Amarie as you both had wished. His dreams were of you. In those dreams, Finrod leaned into the warmth of your hands, which seemed to numb his pain and replace it with the thrumming pleasure of your touch. In those dreams, he could finally love you without the constraints of the waking world.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #finrod x reader #finrod felagund #bro angst #unrequited love #oomph

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imclimbingthestairsoforthanc · 6 months ago

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By the Sea - Finrod x Reader (Pt. 2)

Finrod's affections become unbearable, and when the straw breaks the camel's back the two of you learn things you probably should have known-or guessed, anyway.

Taglist: @batsyforyou

Finrod suppressed a shudder as your lips brushed against his ear when you whispered your response. You had been playing games like this with him all day, however oblivious you seemed–teasing him with fleeting touches and a flirtatious cut of your eyes here and there before resuming your evening with him as you were just very good friends.

“If you keep doing that,” came Artanis’ voice, “You’ll lose that ring. Atyo will be wroth.”

Finrod stilled his movements and left the ring on his hand alone, but he did not tear his eyes away from your movement by the drink table. You had walked away to get a drink not two minutes ago, and he wanted you back already.

Finrod sighed. “I doubt I shall ever have the time to tell her.”

Artanis followed his gaze to the drink table where you stood, the fake smile on your face passing as more of a grimace at what the dark haired man in front of you was saying. It was a look Artanis knew all too well and even a strategy she used to ward off suitors for whom she cared not. Back straightened and chin held high, your squared off shoulders were meant to tell this man to back off. She caught ear of your voice and almost snickered to herself. She had never remembered it being that deep.

“Now might be an opportune moment, before another man sweeps her off her feet.”

Artanis had never seen Finrod move so fast.

“Enjoying your drink, darling?” came Finrod’s voice. The masculine demeanor you had adopted faded when you felt his harp-calloused hand wrap find purchase on the small of your back. He looked up at the elf who had been talking to you. You saw his blue eyes shift back to you before he spoke again.

“I see you have made a friend,” said Finrod. The man began to introduce himself, but Finrod seemed to be having none of it. “I hate to cut this short, but we really must be going. There are a few private matters I need to address before your speech.”

Finrod pulled you around the corridor and down the hall with a racing heart and not a care for what would happen when the rejected bachelor spread the word of the prince and the royal family’s choice architect wandering off without a chaperone.

You trailed limply behind Finrod, having become no more than a confused (and furiously blushing at the placement of his hands and choice of the word darling) mess. Your heart raced and your ears pounded. You cared not for the confusion blooming in the crowd you were leaving behind at your disappearance right before your speech. All you could think of was the golden-haired prince dragging you further away from the celebrations and farther into the night.

The air became saltier as you came upon the lower dock and heard the pretty cygnets whistle lowly as they preened their silver down. You and Finrod both smiled giddily and flopped onto your rocky seats. Finrod pulled you harshly into his side with his arm around your shoulders.

“They will be looking for me,” you said.

Finrod shrugged. “Does it matter?”

You laughed and leaned in closer to him. Finrod’s heart raced and his palms began to sweat, and the proximity did him no good. For so long, since the very first day he met you, he had wanted nothing more than to pull you close to him and whisper all the sweet nothings he had bitten down before, but now that he had you here, even the very scent of your perfume–sea salt and green lilies–enthralled his tongue. His mind began to run wild.

What would he even say? That he loved you beyond any imagination? That he wanted to bring you back with him to Tirion? He doubted that would do more than scare you away. He cursed himself. He should have thought this through.

“Finrod,” came your voice cutting through his thoughts. You looked at him with concern, but when he smiled at you, your eyes cut playfully and you smiled with a tilt of your head. “What are you thinking about?”

The question rolled off your tongue as if Finrod hadn’t made it obvious. He watched your eyes search through his as you awaited a response, and he felt like he could get lost in them. His gaze trailed down to the faint shadow your lashes casted on your blushing cheeks, then down to your lips–pillow soft and wine-stained–he wondered how you were going to give a speech in that condition. Your lips parted. Finrod wasn’t sure when he took that as an invitation after he had met your lips with his own. He pulled away abruptly.

“I’m sorry,” he began, “That was out of li–” He was cut short. Your kiss was gentle but lacking not in ardor, and he wondered if he should have waited to ever kiss you at all if this was any reflection of how you had been feeling.

The two of you drew back, breathless and heaving for air. Finrod’s eyes peered down at you through golden lashes and his kiss swollen lips drew into a smirk.

“This is how you feel, then?” he said, running a hand through the hair on the back of your head.

You nodded. “I have wanted nothing more than to do that since the very first day you set foot into my work tent.”

Finrod smiled widely and tilted his head back with a breathy laugh. “My mother was right, then.”

“About what?” you said with furrowed eyebrows.

“She told me of how you spoke of someone as if he planted the two trees–said that he was the most handsome and charming man you had ever met,” he replied, “She insisted it was me, but I didn’t believe her.”

Your confusion only grew.

“When would I have talked to your mother?”

Finrod planted a kiss on your forehead. “Why are you asking? Did you not tell her this while the two of you worked on the sails?”You lost control of your breath and your heart began to race as you looked back on everything you had ever said to Earwen for which she certainly thought you a love-struck fool and every time she kept her mouth shut about your blabbering. Had you really said all those things? Finrod tucked a stray hair behind your ear and leaned in for another kiss before you spoke.

“Earwen is your mother?”

#the silm fandom #the silmarillion #tolkien #silm fic #silmarillion #findarato #findarato x reader #finrod x reader #finrod felagund #ingoldo

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