#manwë scenario

[doodle-pops]

Manwë Discovering Your Lightning Scars

Request: Hello Mina! How are you going? I hope you’re well 💕 May I please request a fic or headcannon for Manwë or Namo x reader who has lightning strike scars? She (or Gn!) has lightning patterned scars across and down her shoulders and up her neck, nothing crazy, maybe a pale red color but definitely noticeable. It can be something like the story of how she got them or insecurities if a fic. If headcannons then just their general reactions and things in headcannons I guess? Thank you! - Anon

A/N: A pleasure to fulfil your request dearie. I did an all-in-one with the request, meshing both the headcanon and short imagine because I still could not decide between a headcanon and a fic. I also took an angst route with this >.<

·⊰ When Manwё discovers his lover has lightning scars, he would be a mixture of awe, terror and confusion. If you had managed to be struck by lightning, then it was a miracle you survived such a violent interaction.

·⊰ Being marvelled at the gorgeous patterns intricately dancing and interwoven across the expanse of your back, his hands would lightly ghost your skin. There is a part of him itching to touch the red spider-like veins, but he’s also petrified, believing that they would cause pain if he were to.

·⊰ His face would falter when he learned that you were insecure about your scars, always covering up and never wearing any clothing article that revealed the slightest skin. Giving small praise as his eyes fell on your scars and creating poetic phrases as he went along.

·⊰ Eyes growing soft and heartstrings tugging, he's determined to get you to love yourself and see your beautiful. Along the way, he'd make a mental note to have more garments designed to show off or highlight the beauty of your skin.

·⊰ Manwё would consider you blessed and gift you a name signifying how lucky and blessed you were at the same time. But knowing the Elder King, since lightning were an extension of him and his abilities, he would also feel guilty.

·⊰ Feeling as though he had some part to play in your accident, he would begin to apologise for mistakenly losing control or releasing a lightning storm so absentmindedly without being aware of anyone around who could possibly be struck.

·⊰ His heart would clench at the idea of him being responsible for your scars even though you would explain to him that it was your fault for running outside in the middle of a lightning storm precariously.

·⊰ But it doesn’t matter how much you preach to the Elder King that he wasn’t to feel guilty or to be blamed, his ability to feel immense levels of empathy and sympathy for others would urge him to behave apologetically. In his heart, he believes that he has some part to play in the incident.

·⊰ As his lover, you would have to spend a copious time holding his face within your hands, stroking his over his worrisome features and attempting to straighten them out. “Manwё, my sweet radiant love, please. I am well and I do not hold you accountable— it’s my clumsy self.”

·⊰ Your worrying King would perhaps crumble into your arms feeling distressed because you had no idea that lightning storms only occurred when he was enraged. So your lightning scars were an outcome of a moment he was having over his brother’s despicable actions.  

·⊰ Poor you still hadn’t understood why he was so apologetic and constantly hugging you while crying into your hair.

“Manwё? What are telling me?” you whimpered as the words fell from his lips while he buried his face into your hair. The arms that were snaked around your waist had tightened, terrified of you running away and abandoning him after learning the truth. He hadn’t meant to; you weren’t even a target. A simple outcome of anger— losing control in the spur of the moment— and his rage came crashing upon the earth in a series of violent intricate patterns. Striking the earth furiously for every action his brother precariously displayed.

Breathing shakily, the Elder King's muffled voice cried out, “I’m sorry for harming you my dove. I truly did not mean to injure you or take your life. Forgive me please.”

His words took time to register within your mind and when they did, your eyes widened in horror at what they meant. Despite the horror on your face and the skip in your heartbeat, your mind sang a different song to you, ‘He didn’t mean it Y/N’. You knew the Elder King would never bring harm to you purposefully, but hearing that an injury you gained was a result of his losing control, you found it alarming. “I…don’t blame you Manwё, it was an accident— a life-threatening one, but I don’t hate you. I’m alive, a survivor,” you consoled with small rubs and pats to the King’s back and head.

Withdrawing from your embrace while keeping his arms around your waist, he raised his head to be at your level. His stormy blue eyes gazed into yours with the utmost sympathy and concern, apologies were written across his crinkled face. “I never thought that I would truly injure someone with my…unruly outburst. I’m always careful, I always remember to be careful,” he whimpered. You could feel his fingers pressing into your lower vertebrate, careful not to touch the areas where the scars were present. It was no mistake that you felt his hesitancy to touch his accident.

“My love, my sweet ĕrĕmelda,” you cupped his face in your smaller hands, “even if you created the lightning storm, it was me being clumsy and running outside to only be struck. Blame not yourself.” You then leaned in to bump noses against the other and brought him in for a kiss.

“…You are right, I shouldn’t worry so greatly…” his voice then fell into silence before piquing up in confusion, “but why did you run outside in the middle of a lightning storm?”

Fumbling with your response, you cautiously laughed at the foolish reason for the result of your injury. You knew he'd stare at you as though you grew five heads. “. . .Well, um. . .I wanted to see the lightning storm up close. . .” you softly mumbled, fiddling with your thumbs, “it was just me being clumsy.”

Staring at you flabbergasted, the Elder King didn't know if to reprimand you or remain silent. Gripping your shoulders and giving you a firm shake, he commanded with concern in his tone, “You are staying inside during all lightning storms. In fact, you're stay inside during any flashy event. . .for your own good!”

Masterlist

Taglist: @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @noldorinpainter @ranhanabi777 @spidergirla5 @lilmelily @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @starborne0661 @floraroselaughter @the-phantom-of-arda @rain-on-my-umbrella @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365

[cilil]

wait wait wait, it took me so long (i was binge-reading all your fics hehe) to realize the romeo-and-juliet type of relationship eonwe and gothmog have going on. its even better because tolkien once envisioned gothmog and eonwe to be the children of melkor and manwe so them meeting up secretly is sooooooo sweet but heartbreaking, like they are on opposite sides, and they know they'll eventually fight each other. but gothmog died first, so how did eonwe handle that. imagining him trying to live after gothmog's death is just asdkjakdakds

You're too sweet❤️❤️❤️

And yes, this is what really sucked me in too once I realized it! We (my friends and I) started out seeing Firebird as more of a crack ship or something that's maybe hot for smut, but then we realized the old Lost Tales connection and the doomed, tragic love and the parallels between them and... everything.

In a weird way, Gothmog falling in Gondolin was mercy for them both. Otherwise a confrontation during the War of Wrath would've been pretty much inevitable, especially if Gothmog had once again been ordered to go after the Elven kings (Eönwë can't just let him kill Finarfin and it's not like he's that terrible of a friend either). They would've fought each other, knowing that they have orders and that the other knows and understands this as well.

As for what the outcome of that fight would've been, I'd say 70-80% in Eönwë's favor, with this being a sort of average between "they duel and it's just them" (which is more beneficial to Eönwë) and "because the forces of evil cheat, Gothmog gets random assistance from other Balrogs" (similar to what happened with Fingon). Even if they refused to kill the other in the end, someone else on their side happily would. One of them would've wound up dead for sure.

Eönwë tries to take comfort in the fact that this scenario has been avoided and soon realizes that Melkor currently can't bring his Maiar back - so Gothmog also stays dead - but that means he no longer has the one person in his life who understands him. In all his other relationships, he has to perform; whether that's actually true or not is another question, but Eönwë definitely feels that way. It's not like he can tell, say, Manwë, Finarfin or Eärendil about his killer instincts and how he sometimes has the urge to hack, slash and dive bomb people.

What makes this worse is that Eönwë also can't express his grief, or at least he has to pretend it's just about Gondolin. How would he explain that he's mourning the evil Lord of Balrogs more than the brave warrior Elves?

It gets even worse in the one verse where he has an egg and now has to hatch it alone (which may or may not even be possible without another fire spirit) and can never tell anyone where it came from.

Maybe Eönwë goes into the War of Wrath so readily because he doesn't have much to lose. He doesn't feel quite at home or connected and has nobody to talk to about it and nobody to make him feel accepted and loved regarding the parts of himself that he always has to hide. But he also can't just... give up. He's immortal. Even if he died, Manwë would still be more than capable of bringing him back. And he has a purpose to fulfill.

So yeah. Poor Eönwë indeed😭

And now I'll go and dig up (pun intended) some Firebird headcanons for Ainur Week

[edensrose]

╰₊ 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕◞ ₊˚:

. ˚◞♡ 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒂𝒊 𝒃𝒐𝒕𝒔◞ ₊˚﹕I make character bots for roleplay purposes. all of my bots operate on a third-person, novel-style writing and are trained beforehand. please provide a small summary of you / your character in a bracket paragraph above your response to the scenario as this allows the bot to adapt from previous uses. example:

( ooc: her / my name is rishima singhania. pronouns she/her. she / I have medium-length dark hair, pink eyes and a pale skin-tone. insert other brief details if necessary. )

insert response to specific scenario.

bot requests are open. I do not support the use of ai for writing purposes in which you claim the ai work as your own or allow an ai to write for you.

. ˚◞♡ 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒐◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺! 𝘢𝘶◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ your most important mission yet is to take out the notorious, ever-charming leader of alcarin. only problem? he's nowhere to be seen in his penthouse. . . or is he? ꒷꒦ dark!manwë ꒷꒦ merc!reader ꒷꒦ enemies to lovers ꒷꒦ merc au info ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘶𝘣𝘶𝘴! 𝘢𝘶 ◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ you brushed off the childish summoning that you and your group of friends indulged for the sake of fun. but now you're back home — and you swear that you could feel eyes on you ꒷꒦ smut ꒷꒦ slight monsterfucking ꒷꒦ incubus au info ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒔◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘺! 𝘢𝘶◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ you were the prodigy of vilisse's leader. so of course you were quaking in your boots when námo calls you to his office after your recently failed mission ꒷꒦ dark!námo ꒷꒦ merc!reader ꒷꒦ power disparity ꒷꒦ merc au info ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳! 𝘢𝘶 ◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ you're miserably failing music class, much to your professor's dismay. one day after class, he pulls you back to ask you what the hell is going on — but all you can do is focus on how pretty he is when frustrated ꒷꒦ student!reader ꒷꒦ power disparity ꒷꒦ forbidden romance ꒱ ₊˚⊹

. ˚◞♡ 𝒎𝒊𝒈𝒖𝒆𝒍 𝒐'𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂◞ ₊˚﹕

˚◞❀˳ 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥! 𝘢𝘶◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ miguel o'hara was the epitome of annoyance to you. a flirt, a womaniser, athletic, intelligent and somehow unbearingly handsome on top of it. to make matters worse? he's your brother's best friend. after a long week of exams you doll yourself up for a night out with your friends. opting to grab yourself a beverage from the kitchen before heading out, you find yourself face to face with the irritation of your existence ꒷꒦ college!au ꒷꒦ enemies to lovers esque ꒱ ₊˚⊹

˚◞❀˳ 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥◞ꕥ . . . coming soon

꒰ the day you finally walked away from him was a day miguel would never forget. little did you know that his love ran deeper for you than you would ever know. and now he's standing in your bedroom at 2am ꒷꒦ dark!miguel ꒷꒦ obsession and possessiveness ꒱ ₊˚⊹

[pearlescentpearl]

📓

This is challenge mode for me seeing as I already tell you everything, but okay.

Let's see, pulling up from the dusty depths of my angst file, I once imagined a scenario wherein the bitchfest going on between Feanor and Melkor in Tirion (pre-sword incident) escalated to the point Melkor claims he was SO offended by *handwaves* that he starts demanding compensation for the insult. Feanor says he's blowing this out of proportion; Feanor is correct bc he's always correct about Melkor being a bastard but also his own history of also blowing things out of proportion is working against him.

In comes Maedhros who thinks, I can fix this! I can totally fix this brewing mess before it gets out of hand! Bc no one wants to get Manwë involved in another Noldorin dispute involving the royal family, that historically does not work out well.

So he offers to attend to Melkor for a time as an apology for *handwaves*, same as three of his family attend to their Vala, thinking it'll be like a Melkor specific Aulenduri gig just with private distaste for the boss.

(If you try to tell me Mahtan's grandsons didn't love Aulë like a third grandpa I will not believe you. There's no way Aulë doesn't delight in his elf friends showing off their kids and grandkids to him.)

Anyway, this does not go great for Maedhros.

[nyarnamaitar]

💖

Thanks for the ask, Anon! 🩵

I’ll take this opportunity to talk a bit more about some of my less-discussed Manwë rarepairs, because a) I love him and b) I want him to be loved.

Aside from Manwë x the usual suspects (Varda, Melkor, Ulmo, Ingwë), one of my favourite Manwë ships is Manwë x Fëanor, especially in a Post-Dagor Dagorath scenario. I know they seem like an odd match, but I genuinely believe they are more compatible than most people think. A relationship between them would never be easy, but they both enjoy a challenge and I feel they would learn a great deal from each other, if given the chance. This ship also allows me to chew on topics I really enjoy thinking about, such as Valar-Eldar relationships and Fëanor’s relationship to divinity (and how it can heal). Also, Manwë’s type very much seems to be fierce, fiery, dark-haired beauties, which Fëanor fits to the T. 😂

I also enjoy Manwë x Finarfin, both platonic and in a more romantic light. They must have spent a lot of time together in the aftermath of the Darkening and the Exile of the Noldor, and given their similar personalities and situations (both inherit a throne they never asked for; both carry its weight uncomplainingly), I think they would come to care greatly for each other. I haven’t thought about this ship as much as I have about some of my other Manwë ships, but I’d love to explore it more.

Funnily enough, a Manwë ship I’m a bit on the fence about is Manwë x Eönwë, mostly because I HC Eönwë as aroace. Still, I don’t mind more romantic interpretations of their relationship, because I do see them as very close and I firmly believe that they would sacrifice themselves if it meant protecting the other.

As for non-Manwë rarepairs, I love Indis x Míriel, Nerdanel x Yavanna, and Nienna x Varda. I’m also quite fond of Fëanor x Finarfin.

[warrioreowynofrohan]

I don’t think I could ever do a ship fic meme in the style of “give me a couple and a scenario and I’ll write a fic about them” because I don’t have a lot of thoughts about most ships, but give me almost any Silm character and I could probably write at least a drabble or some meta about that character giving or recieving an apology.

(Fic(s) posted: Maedhros (multiple occasions), Maglor (multiple occasions), Nerdanel, Fingon (both directions), Aredhel, Eärwen, Finrod, Elrond, Eärendil, Elwing, Legolas, Varda.

Fic(s) envisioned or partially written: Manwë, Ulmo, Thingol, Celegorm, Turgon, Idril, Maeglin, Tuor, Finduilas, Gwindor.)

[dalliansss]

Love Paradise Prompts:

Commenting about the overpowering smell of sunscreen/mosquito repellant that the other constantly uses - Finrod/Maedhros

love paradise - summer vacation scenarios for your otp

Maedhros was minding the cookfire. Earlier that afternoon he'd successfully hunted deer, and they were going to have quite the delectable supper, because deer was a specialty of his, and Ingoldo not so much well-versed in cooking this game meat. Already he has some of the meat simmering in a herby soup, nothing too hearty, and he adds some more fragrant greens in there, and the aroma is simply to die for.

At least, until Ingoldo sits beside him holding what looked like a small pot of ointment. His beloved cousin removed the cork stoppering the pot, and out came the stench of citronella, so strong that even the fragrant scent of his cooking weakened.

Maedhros felt his eyebrows rise. "What is that? Why does it smell like that?"

Ingoldo, though, is already smearing some of the white concoction down the bare skin of his arms. "What do you mean what is it? Mosquito repellent, of course."

"Why does it smell like that?" "What do you mean? I love the scent of citronella." "You smell like the lavatory at grandfather's palace with too much scented oils." "Ai! How dare! Rude! I-- what the-- what do you mean I smell like the-- Manwë's flattened nose!"

He gives Ingoldo a small, playful shove. "Get away from me. That repellent smells so strong you'd be smelling like those oils for days!"

Finrod glares at him, pouts mightily, and hugs his right arm like a petulant elfling. "If I smell bad, then you're smelling bad with me, ai!"

Another playful shove. "Get off, Ingoldo. I won't be cuddling you when you smell like one of Yavanna's Ents. Make your own bedroll or else rinse that off, and you'll be using my mosquito repellent instead. It's unscented and does the trick. Eesh."

A grumble. Ingoldo lets his arm go, and, still grousing, goes to the nearby river to attempt to rinse off the ointment from his arms.

@antares0606

[deadqueernoldor]

A scenario for Ranyatinwë I will never properly write but I could imagine nonetheless

Ranyatinwe barely glanced to her right where she knew Elwing stood, watching the spectacle like so many others.

Spectacle.

Apparently trying to decide what to do about the last child of Fëanor – not yet dead but certainly not willingly returned to Aman – was a social spectacle people needed to watch.

She pursed her lips at the silence. They waited for her answer.

"Yes, I am quite aware that the half-elf had a Silmaril," she said at last. "And still holds it to this day."

Her eyes were focused on Arafinwë, the uncle who'd never bothered to tell people to stop saying his niece would end up like her grandmother Míriel. Dead.

Beside him stood Eönwe, Manwë's herald who'd given her brothers the last chance to repent and stand trial, conveniently forgetting to offer her the same.

Both wore faces akin to masks.

"How could I not? My brother was quite clear on the outcome of the charge on Sirion." Her lips curled into a cold smile. "I do hope that Elwing and Eärendil enjoy the stolen heirloom of my family."

She turned to look at Elwing for the first time in her life. The smile was cold as a blade encrusted with blood and fury and repulsion. "You have that, and I have the memories of raising Elrond and Elros. That day you had the choice between being a good ruler and a good mother, and without me even having to try, you cast away both."

She laughed, cold and fey. "You may have thought you won, but in the end, I walked out with two treasures while you had only one. Indeed I hope the Silmaril was worth it, Dioriel."

[ceescedasticity]

(Look, confirmation that Dior did not get the Gift of Men!)

That's a pretty good reason to conclude a thousand years… it'd probably mean Finrod was a wreck, though.

My spin on the Galadriel-still-under-ban thing is that

At the end of the First Age, pardons were on offer, but Ëonwë required that leaders of rebellion formally admit wrongdoing and probably publicly beg forgiveness, and Galadriel certainly wasn't about to do that, especially since she wanted to stay in Middle-earth anyway.

In hindsight, Ëonwë probably shouldn't have demanded that, but Manwë doesn't want to undermine him. (Especially since Galadriel seems to want to stay in Middle-earth anyway.)

However given that, releasing any leaders of rebellion from Mandos without requiring them to publicly beg forgiveness is… politically awkward. And very few members of the House of Finwë are eager to humble themselves without the opportunity to add a bunch of caveats, so that's no help.

But what the Valar can do is rationalize that various people aren't really leaders of rebellion, or at least are less of a leader than Galadriel is.

Some of these rationalizations are more convincing than others. Some are kind of insulting by implication. Many of them are more looking at "less of a leader than Galadriel is now" rather than "less of a leader than Galadriel at the time". But the point is to save face while letting Námo release people who really shouldn't be there anymore.

(If they'd just been THINKING they could have used the changing of the world as an occasion for blanket pardons for everyone, but they were too distracted.)

The people they can't even pretend to think are less of a leader than Galadriel are Fingolfin, Finrod (but he got a special exception), Maedhros (who also has the Oath to think about), Fëanor (but he may be in time-out anyway), and maybe Turgon. (One might THINK Fingon should be on that list, but look, whatever the titles were he spent all his time following either Fingolfin's lead or Maedhros's, and he was climbing the walls.)

OH GOOD a reason to remove Galadriel's Ban.

But that whole scenario may be a little too involved to call a headcanon. Certainly too involved to call a theory.

DAMN it I should have put in a question about what people think average Mandos turnaround time is, because evidently some people think it's much longer than I do.

What I'm mainly going off of is Finrod, who died a fairly horrific death before which he'd been a prisoner for months — at the end he was messed-up enough to blow his own cover — and in the custody of Sauron the Necromancer (not to mention the disastrous magic duel attempt).

He was canonically released from Mandos after probably less than a century.

Yes, Lúthien arrived almost immediately after his death and that likely made a difference — I'd credit it at least with averting any postmortem damage. Yes, Finrod is a fairly resilient and impressive guy. But I don't think he's so very special that his healing is exponentially faster than most people's, and while I think it's possible he got let out a little earlier than he should have been I don't think it's that much premature.

So I think, for most elves who die violent deaths, a couple centuries is probably enough to heal. Some will take longer — a thousand years sounds reasonable to me for e.g. Celebrimbor, and longer than that for orc souls. And there's a lot of individual variation, and there are other reasons someone might be in Mandos longer.

But generally I feel like we should see a lot of returns from Mandos in the first half of the Second Age.

[doodle-pops]

Desert Rose

Manwë x reader

Kinktober 2023: Sensory Play

Warnings: fem!reader, sensory play, slight temperature play, clit and nipple play, using a feather for stimulation, blindfold and bondage, cunnilingus, overstimulation

Words: 2.6k

Synopsis: Manwë decides to indulge in sensory play, using a unique tool considerably dear and a part of him to grant him assistance.

“If you don’t breathe, you’re going to pass out, my rose. Deep breaths darling. Relax and enjoy the moment.”

It wasn’t as though you weren’t basking in the allure the moment was providing, or rather the sight; it was the palpability of the intimacy the situation held. The sight was unbreakable, and it was impossible to tear your eyes away from the sight of delicate hands and nimble fingers grasping a feather and twirling it like a toy. Long fingers, dainty yet strong were embellished in a beauty of gold and silver that converged at a single point to meet the stem of his feather. Plucked from his wings at your curiosity and toying with you like an owner toying with a cat, his feather glided through the air, cutting all tension and colliding with the softness of your skin. Sliding over the crest and dips of your skin and through the sweat, it never ceased nor stained its delicate fluffiness and remained feathery to your likeness.

Your arms jerked the moment your body subconsciously reacted to the contact of the feather against your skin. Trailing across your shoulders and down your neck into your clavicle, you ceased breathing at the heightened sensation from the delicate little object. Your wrists knocked anxiously against the headboard, tugging at the blue, silky scarfs preventing your movements. Forced to experience a slow–paced torture, you clenched your stomach and threw your head backwards as the feather dipped lower to meet your bosom.

Struggling to release the air trapped in your throat, his feather trailed to meet your breast and circled your erected nipples. Its tip, fan–like and wispy, traced aerial patterns around your buds, shooting whips of cool air to meet your heated and perspiring skin. Even more, did your nipples stand out among the spiral of goosebumps surrounding the nub. The feather refused to cease its dance, twirling in the small gusts of drafts he summoned to aid its smooth movements and ensure maximum pleasure.

Manwë hovered beside you with a curious and eager childlike expression as his wrist flicked and swished the air that allowed the delicate motion of the white puff of cloud around your areola. Like a graceful dancer, his feather swirled and circled your entire breasts, sliding with ease through your sweat and not once absorbing weight to continue its featherweight performance. All the while, your breathless sighs and gasps as he continued became his catalyst to better his performance.

A quick dart of his tongue to moisten his lips, his head inched forward to wrap them around your left nipple while his feather toyed with your right. The difference in the temperature of his mouth and your nipple pushed your body into a violent shudder. Flicking his cool tongue against your tiny nub and moving with your thrashing, he hummed in delight as he enveloped your entire breast in his mouth. Larger hands reached out to grip your sides, keeping you sedated while he appreciated the sensation of your erratic heartbeat the more he applied force behind the suctions. His smile only grew when your moans became louder, leading to his teeth encasing your bud and his eyes flashing upwards to meet your hazy eyes.

Maintaining eye contact, you had forgotten about the feather making circles around your nipple and focused on the menacing grin he returned. Pleased with the attention placed on him, Manwë’s hypnotic stare demanded that you look on as he swirled his tongue in dizzy circles around your nipple before taking between his teeth for a teasing bite. With your soft intake of breath, he gingerly pulled away and withdrew the feather.

“My sweet rose, you are going to pass out and ruin the moment; breathe for me. Let me guide the air through your lungs.” His lips lingered over yours not that half his body coveted your trembling one. You could feel the cold air floating over your skin as your lashes fluttered urging you to exhale for a taste of his air. The icy burn of mint travelling throughout your lungs, revitalising your consciousness; it was as though you had been resuscitated.

Eagerly parting your lips for more and falling into a rhythmic breathing pattern, the Elder King’s lips dangled above yours, just an inch apart, as he blew cool air. You could taste the richness of the air on your tongue and a burning desire to kiss and satisfy your cravings for more. Attempting to crane your neck to reach his lips, he pulled away in the nick of time with a playful laugh and tsked at your desperation. “Not so fast, rose. Not so fast. We still have a long wait ahead before I can reward you with a kiss,” he whispered with allure.

Lips forming a pout, you kicked your feet at the rejection and fretted loudly. Attempts at crying out his name and begging for one small kiss were shot down with a silent arched brow and a subdued chuckle before reaching over to the nightstand for another blue strip of silk and flashing a look of naughtiness. Him dangling the light silky material before you with smugness left you wondering whether he was about to silence you or something else.

“What is that for?” you hurriedly imposed.

“Look not so terrified, my rose. It is all in good nature and cause,” he reassured and knelt closer to your head with the cloth. “Will you close your eyes for me, dove?”

The look of relief shimmering in your eyes once the dawn of realisation came about, you offered a dazed, lopsided grin and a nod of your head. As he inched closer, the sight of him became blurry until you could see no more once your eyes were shut. You could tell the deliberation of his gestures as his fingers brushed certain areas around your neck or his breath fanned your face while he tied the blindfold. Every hitch in your breath, his fingers would pause and hover over the area before brushing over it again to entice another provocation in your erratic heartbeat. Even with the proximity of his body inches away from yours, the coolness radiating off him was enough to subdue the raging heat he awakened from his temptations.

“There you go,” he murmured with purpose as his fingers came front to swipe the tresses that fell into your face, blocking the colour of the blindfold. His lips hovered close enough to taste the mint once again as he spoke. “Blue has always been your colour, rose. One might say pink, yet my colour takes you the best,” he praised and ghosted his lips closer, brushing at the corners of your mouth to elicit a soft gasp, followed by a whine as he pulled away before you could capture them.

“Manwë,” you groaned. Slumping further into the mattress, prohibited by the noose around your wrists, there was a series of shuffling nearby before the sudden jerk of feeling your legs being lifted and spread into a debauching position. Widened as though you were on display, your knees were being folded into the mattress, giving entrance to the obscene parting of your legs for Manwë to view a favourite sight of his.

With your lack of vision and dependability on your hearing, it was impossible to determine what his sequence of actions was. The only sounds audible were the blue jays and mockingbirds outside the chamber, whistling their daily melody. Not a squeak, whisper, cough or hum was echoed once your legs were widened for viewing. Then, the first touch came with sudden calamity, creating a series of wiggling and urges to buck upwards and into the sensation.

You didn’t know if it were his feather or another piece of cloth being dushed over your bundle of nerves, but it was the cool wisps of wind falling from his lips and landing on your clit to provoke your unpredictable thrashing. Forcing an odd cry of his name from your lips as he continued, you fought to thrust your hips to meet the sensation and grind against it, instead, all Manwë did was held your hips down and brought his head closer for more wisps of cool air to fall against your clit. His determination to prevent your body from having a mind of its own drove you to insanity the more he applied pressure to immobilise you while basking in his delighted fun.

To Manwë, the idea of using his abilities for pleasure in this manner was unheard of and unusual at first when cornered with the idea. However, the more you enticed him with his titles of being King of Arda and Lord of the Airs, he easily fell for your idea and appreciated the thought the deeper he indulged. Who knew using breath play in a different form would be so refreshing? To witness the ethereal form of your body, wriggling under his powers through the simplest usage; no strength, no thunderstorm and lightning, just the very air you breathed.

“Does it feel good, rose?” he queried, causing the flow of air to stop momentarily.

Squeezing your chest to force words out, you wheezed, “Yes! Fuck it feels so good! Please Manwë, more.”

And then he wondered if it would be possible to obtain that from his choice of method. Cocking his head with a challenging smile and gazing at your clit with thoughts of how to go about it, he abruptly agreed with himself and redirected his attention to you once more. “Why don’t we see if you can cum from such a delicate touch.”

The decision to dip his head closer to your cunt, close enough for his tongue to slip out and flick your bundle of nerves, he blew more cool air against the nub. Finding the perfect balance of torture, reaching for the discarded feather on the bed, he dragged the dainty threads over every fissure until it came to the one destination he desired. The first flick alongside the wisps of air was light and didn’t stimulate any reaction, prompting him to switch completely from the use of air to the feather. He was charmed by your response; heavy cries as the tip of the feather fiddled with your clit like a switch nonstop.

“Hmm, oh my god! Feels so good!” Your arms tugged the scarves fervently as the sensation of his feather was perfect against your nub. Paired with your sense of sight being cut off, you were able to easily direct all your focus into relishing the pulsation in your clit and the rising heat in your stomach. It was much faster than most orgasms you had achieved, and it was coming on with great intensity with the pace he devised.

“Please don’t stop, please don’t stop! Manwë please—” Falling short with your words the moment your legs began trembling, a loud sob ripped past your lips and your head lulled into the pillows. The desire to push him away and pull him closer was great as the pressure and heat increased to insurmountable summits.

All the while his fingers flicked his feather continually, tickling your clit and appreciating the minimal effort required to bring you to his peak. The softest touch of his feathers and the air surrounding him could release your most ethereal disposition known to his eyes. The power and confidence you made him feel knowing that he would never allow this moment to extinguish and to be able to tease you endlessly with his ability. Ready to incorporate into every session possible, he kept the stability of his wrist and fingers as the trembling of your body reached its limits.

There wasn’t a moment to lose as your body thrashed against the restraints, back bowing off the bed and legs wiggling in his grip to shut as a flow of warmth overcame your body. Manwë’s refusal to release his grip as he continued the movement of his feather, pushing your body into oversensitivity elicited waves of cries and attempts at escaping his horror. Though his will was greater than yours a testament to the power he held over your body, he pursued his actions, discarding the feather midway through and dropping his cool mouth onto your oversensitive bundle of nerves.

Suppressing his laughter at the back of his throat, his mouth formed a suction to quickly bring about another orgasm, pushing cool air from his lungs onto your clit to rekindle the fire. He was relentless and desperate for the reaction of your delicacy being put to the test—there was bliss from the smallest response you reacted with to the largest. Swirling the air and mouth around your clit, his head shook to increase the stimulation, knowing that you weren’t that far apart from the second oncoming wave.

“Manwë, please! T–Too much—ngh!” You wanted to consider him evil for his unwillingness to grant you reprieve and eagerness for his determination to desire as many orgasms as possible from this session. Having you tied up, blindfolded and at his mercy were the second best combinations.; the first being his heat cycle.

Flickering his tongue in correspondence to your trembling, he laughed at the airy whines you emitted, shooting more pleasure into your body. There wasn’t anything you could do any more as the beads of sweat pooled in your stomach and clavicle, your arms growing weary from the incessant tugging and your legs cramping from the feverish shaking. All you were capable of was lying there and being hit with your second climax in a row while you mumbled pleas for mercy and rest.

Lost in the bliss of being semi–conscious, your body finally collapsed into the mattress, leaving you a panting sweaty mess with small bits of your sanity keeping you awake. Somewhere along the fade of heat, you were able to make out the chilled swirls of air crawling up your body to aid with cooling you down and relaxation. Unfortunately, it only made your sensitivity worsen from the heightened pleasure and stimulation your entire body was engulfed in.

“Manwë, it’s too much…hmm,” you whined.

“My apologies, rose,” he replied and ceased the travel of air over your body. Crawling to lay beside your lethargic body, he pushed the blindfold off your eyes, bringing light into your world again. “How was it for a first attempt?” he curiously asked, eyes brimming with keenness.

Taking a moment to resuscitate as the brightness flowed through your senses, your brain was feeling fuzzy from the aftermath of his…cruelty. “Uh, um, oh God,” you muttered disappointed as your words were attempting to fail you. “It was uh—It was better than I imagined when I proposed it.”

“Then we can incorporate it into our nightly routine,” he suggested with a raised brow and leaned in closer to merge the gap with a playful peck to your lips. “I did enjoy your explicit responses to my talent. So fragile and sensitive like a rose.”

Feeling a wave of sleep coming on after the tumultuous battle you faced against him, you gingerly nodded your head in agreement and wryly smiled. “Whatever you say, Lord of the Air, just give me my kiss and we’ll make it work.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @eunoiaastralwings @lilmelily @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @the-phantom-of-arda @wandererindreams @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @ilu-stripes @batsyforyou @asianbutnotjapanese

[cilil]

If it was Irmo in the place Manwë with Fëanor’s child, how would that play out?

𝓐𝓝 ~ Interesting premise once again, thanks for the ask! I apologize for taking a while to answer sometimes, I always want to make sure I give these some proper thought so I can hopefully keep it fresh and bring new ideas to the table and you lovely people can get something out of it ♡

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~ Once again gender-neutral pronouns for the darling and other details left unspecified, leaving it up to each reader's own imagination and preferences ♡

𝓣𝓦𝓼 ~ Yandere, obsessive behavior, manipulation, gaslighting, mentions of cheating

➺ Yandere!Irmo headcanons (general) ➺ Yandere!Manwë with Fëanorian!love interest

𐀔 Simply put, Irmo would be simultaneously more subtle compared to Manwë, but also more present in the life and affairs of the one he chose as his darling and wished to pursue.

𐀔 Much like his sister's student Olórin - who is also one of his servants - Irmo has the ability to inspire and influence people by putting thoughts into their minds, without them even noticing that these thoughts were planted by someone else. Being a Fëantur, he can perform such magic with utmost proficiency.

𐀔 Once the darling caught his eye - maybe during a feast, maybe when they visited Lórien to rest and relax - they became the new target of many of Irmo's spells and antics, including influencing their thoughts and mood, messing with their dreams and sending gifts he tampered with, such as sweets and treats that were "refined" with special potions of his making, sweet and flowery fragrances and handmade dreamcatchers.

𐀔 Irmo also liked sending his little moth friends to spy on his, as he thought, soon-to-be lover and quickly found out about their affair, if he hadn't already via their dreams. Under normal circumstances Irmo wouldn't mind - he's usually neither jealous nor begrudges his loved ones their fun and freedom, being fairly promiscuous himself - but this time he found that he was dismayed by the prospect of sharing his darling. This time, he told himself, he wanted to be the only one.

𐀔 The darling would need Fëanor's keen insight and to close their mind to see through Irmo's various manipulations and avoid being plagued by visions and thoughts of love and longing. However, they might still be relatively defenseless in their dreams, and Irmo would take full advantage, showing them entire scenarios involving the two of them that felt so good and so real too. What made it even harder to spot his interference is that he always appears to be such a cute, colorful and harmless spirit, despite being a Vala, and his sleepy and airheaded behavior - which is, as a certain Fëanorian soon found out, but a facade for a much more devious and cunning spirit.

𐀔 When the Noldor left Valinor, Irmo kept sending dreams and visions to his darling, but those got progressively darker, showing what would happen if they continue their journey. Whether the scenarios he showed were his own invention or based on his brother's prophecies remained to be seen, but either way, his favorite Fëanorian would need a strong will and unbreakable spirit to shake off those terrors and keep marching.

𐀔 Like Manwë, Irmo now also counts on the Doom of the Noldor, and once it catches up to his darling, he'll beg Námo to let him have their fëa. Whereas Námo is fair and neutral, he loves his brother very much and has never been good at denying him what he wants. Additionally, Nienna may also be swayed by her brother's heartache and speak in favor of him, making it even harder for the unfortunate Fëanorian to stay away from the Vala who is so relentlessly pursuing them.

𐀔 To Irmo, it ultimately doesn't matter whether his darling is alive or dead, even less so than to other Valar, because of his nature as a master of spirits. He can always trap them in an endless dream that only he can enter, so they can finally be together.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot @wandererindreams

[edensrose]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ    ꒰❀꒱ 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆! 𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒖 ❜࿔ 

─────── .°୭̥ ✿ˎˊ˗ “ 2k followers event ’

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ ainur⠀〳 reader⠀ ៸៸ vampire themes ៸៸ blood mention ៸៸ biting, so much biting ៸៸ some violent themes ៸៸ dark fantasy ៸៸ royal aspects ៸៸ victorian esque ៸៸ various other tags  to be listed as the au ensues ❜࿔

· ⊰ synopsis. a world where mysterious, terrible creatures of the night rule over the land from the shadows. mere myth to most yet reality to others, it seems that the latter might become more apparent as there is an uproar in the vampire royal court. this victorian esque story follows the lives of the vampire court, the internal divide between kings, the struggle of scientists fighting for humanity. . . and the war between creatures of twilight and the divine hunters that vow to eradicate them. 

꒰❀꒱ please ensure that you have read the vampire legendarium and the character sheet before proceeding 

꒰❀꒱ queue / masterlist.

in celebration of reaching 2k followers, I have decided to run an event that the majority of you voted for in a poll. I would like to first take this opportunity to thank each and every one of you who have supported me. I have been in the tolkien fandom for over a year and I am so happy with how far I have come. I appreciate all of you and I can only hope for smooth sailings along with greater things to come! I would also like to give a huge thanks to my darling friend @cilil , for she was the one who helpled me massively with this au! at this point, it's our au lol. love you babes<3 anyway ~

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· ⊰ notes

꒰❀꒱ the following event will work on a request system. you can request as many times as you like, however, there are only fifteen slots. depending on my mood, I might open up more slots in the future ( 21 requests — closed! )

꒰❀꒱ anyone can participate, as long as you take my rules into consideration 

꒰❀꒱ requests are reader-insert based, you may request for a total of three characters in one fic

꒰❀꒱ you may request calamórë ( manwë x námo ) as well

꒰❀꒱ please send in a prompt from below and a character. you do not have to provide plot but you can if you so wish

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· ⊰ prompts 

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖  dialogue

 "don't vampires live forever? that's a long time. . ." "you make me sick."

 "for a so-called 'expert', your strategies are kind of weak." 

 "you're everything I ever wanted..." 

"you can run, but you cannot hide. "

"holy water. how original. "

"if you bite me, will I die?"

"please don't be afraid of me."

"your blood is intoxicating. if I start, I don’t think I could ever stop." "I trust you."

"I want you to turn me."

"what are you?"

“you’re hurting me!”

"you are/are not a monster."

"don't come any closer!"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"if you’re going to sit there bleeding, at least have the decency to offer me some to drink."

"please, just give me a chance!"

"what happens if two vampires drink from each other?" "would you like to find out?"

"you're not just the friendly gentleman/lady, are you?"

"scared, darling?"

"hold still and this won't hurt as much."

“don’t you dare lie to me!”

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( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ scenarios 

ʚ A and B knew each other in the past, and A is heartbroken and betrayed seeing that B is a vampire Hunter now. B has to now try to regain this trust. 

ʚ B finally finds A, but after taking one glance at their terrified form, they can't bare to finish carrying out their mission.

ʚ A and B are in a forbidden romance, as they are either a vampire or vampire hunter 

ʚ A is a hunter and thinks that they are misleading B, a vampire. little do they know that B already knows what they are and is playing them as well 

ʚ A is a human and in a relationship with B, a vampire who is trying to keep them safe from other vampires 

ʚ A and B are on opposite sides, A ends up defending B in a fight when their kin clash 

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ��ㅤㅤ

( ❀ ) ˙ ˖ action prompts

( angel. ) reader is tricked by the beauty of vampire and is thus lured into a dangerous sutuation. 

( accident. ) vampire/vampire hunter accidentally hurts reader.

( authority. ) vampire / vampire hunter shows their authority over reader.

( awaken. ) reader awakes as a vampire with the one who turned them at their side.

( battle. ) reader and vampire / vampire hunter are on opposite sides, they find themselves in a battle. 

( betrayal. ) vampire / vampire hunter betrays reader ( or vice versa ).

( bite. )  vampire bites the reader on their ( neck / wrist / thigh / body part ) to drink their blood.

( bloodlust. )  vampire has gone too long without feeding, base instincts taking over, the reader finds them. 

( capture. ) reader is captured by vampire / vampire hunter ( or vice versa ).

( chase. ) reader runs from either a vampire / vampire hunter.

( control. ) vampire has to control themselves from draining the reader dry.

( dance. ) reader and vampire / vampire hunter share a tense or intimate dance. 

( discover. ) reader discovers what the other actually is, a vampire / vampire hunter.

( duty. ) vampire hunter has to decide whether to choose duty over love when they discover what the reader truly is.

( gift. ) human reader gifts vampire roses without knowledge of its effects.

( gold. ) reader sees vampire hunter's golden wounds.

( intentional. ) vampire / vampire hunter intentionally hurts reader either out of spite or to obtain information from them.

( interrogation. ) vampire / vampire hunter interrogates reader.

( protective. ) vampire / vampire hunter expresses protectiveness over reader.

( rescue. ) vampire hunter / vampire saves reader.

( reveal. ) vampire / vampire hunter reveals to reader what they really are.

( sacrifice. ) vampire / vampire hunter sacrifices themselves for reader.

( sadistic. ) reader finds themselves in a situation with a sadistic-driven vampire / vampire hunter.

( stake. )  after finding out the other is a vampire, the reader tries to stake them.

( temptation. ) vampire tempts reader with immortality or the idea of staying by their side for all eternity.

( trapped. ) reader finds themselves trapped in the vampire royal castle / the hunters' domain

( turn. ) vampire turns the reader into one of them.

[that-angry-noldo]

the words of eönwë are actually interesting because (to me at least) they read like a warning, not a curse:

‘Against the folly of Fëanor shall be set my counsel only. Go not forth! For the hour is evil, and your road leads to sorrow that ye do not foresee. No aid will the Valar lend you in this quest; but neither will they hinder you; for this ye shall know: as ye came hither freely, freely shall ye depart...

One thing that fascinates me in Tolkien's work is that everything is a scenario still in play, and both elves and valar are bound by it, though in different ways: elves know they're in the play but don't know the turns, while the valar saw the play completely and know what to expect and what will come, but are can't change a thing. (imo *this* is why it's said that even valar will envy the gift of men.) to me this always read as a warning: valar saying "don't go there, we've seen how it plays out and how it will end"; they might be thinking inaction a "lesser evil".

but now we get to feanor:

But thou Fëanor Finwë’s son, by thine oath art exiled. The lies of Melkor thou shalt unlearn in bitterness. Vala he is, thou saist. Then thou hast sworn in vain, for none of the Valar canst thou overcome now or ever within the halls of Eä, not though Eru whom thou namest had made thee thrice greater than thou art.’

there are few points interesting about this!

Only Feänor is exiled, not because of his words about the Valar (holding elves captive etc etc) but because of his oath

Furthermore, Feänor isn't exiled because he swore the oath; there's not a word about his sons, who all swore the oath too

the valar are. not wrong. objectively speaking. and they aren't cursing him either: they are just stating the fact that elda-feänor cannot defeat vala-morgoth because it's, idk, physically impossible. (which was proven as an objectively wrong thing to tell feänor right afterwards lmao)

it's interesting that the whole noldorin host is being given a choice while feänor is being straight-up exiled, and the reason is the Oath, not even Feänor swearing it. i could go on about the oath promising to do all the slaying and calling upon eldar's most beloved and sacred things (Varda, Manwë, Taniquetil, Eru) and the hypocricy of Feänor swearing on these things (Varda and Manwë in particular) despite the words he spoke about them, but I think I'll stop here sjksjs

And the last: it's not like the Valar left them in the state Arda was previously? They did wedge a war on Morgoth as soon as they heard about Children, and they did make Beleriand if not entirely safe, than much much safer than it was before. (Thingol and Melian didn't come up with the Veil before Morgoth's return; I doubt it would be the case if they were in a constant danger.) So it's not like they entirely forsook their duties as older siblings.

Look I’m just saying… if you have a place that you invite people to and then tell them they can’t leave… and if they leave anyway, they’re doomed to die (either by weapon or by torment or by grief, and if they last long enough they literally just fade out of existence) … and the only way they can avoid this fate is to, you guessed it, return to YOUR place…

Then I don’t care how beautiful that place is. You can call it a paradise blessed by the gods if you want to, but if I’m not free to leave then it feels an awful lot like a prison.

[anghraine]

Quora sent me a conversation about an AU where Melkor never rebels and becomes the noble and faithful leader of the Valar under Ilúvatar. The intra-Valarin revolt comes from ... Tulkas, while Sauron Mairon is an immensely powerful and honored Maia of Valinor, something like Eönwë.

I mean, the whole conversation was between some Tolkien bros who definitely didn't call it an AU fanfic plotbunny, lol, but it's ... exactly that and a pretty interesting one.

[nyarnamaitar]

arda unmarred scenario. a redeemed melkor spends an inordinate amount trying to get into manwë’s pants good graces again, because somehow, to everyone’s (and especially melkor’s own) surprise, the person whom melkor finds most difficult to convince of his reformation just so happens to be… yes, manwë

[outofangband]

i would love to see your darkening of valinor bullet fic!

I was inspired in this by @tanoraqui who has absolutely amazing fics and bullet fics often based in what ifs and other scenarios

I don’t know if headcanon fic is a term but that sounds better than rambling half outline so!

The Darkening of Valinor is one of my favorite scenes in The Silmarillion and that is almost entirely for the version that is in Morgoth’s Ring (link to my post that has the original text)

Keep in mind there are a world of possibilities for each point in the story that changes! I’d be happy to explore any!

And as always requests and asks are open and welcome. I really like things like this so I’d love to write more!

There are a number of possibilities that I think of for alternate timelines regarding the Darkening. 

I also could only do up to the arrival of Nolofinwë’s host in Beleriand with some speculation on after so this might have to be in two parts

The first is one that has been explored before but I enjoy for its awfulness

Maedhros arrives only somewhat earlier than in canon and is caught in the confrontation and dies with his grandfather. 

-He makes his brothers wait. They do not wish to obey him but the Amras was injured when he was thrown from his horse and his twin is inconsolable in his fear, exacerbated by the dreadful fumes that permeate the air. As I said before, under normal circumstances Maedhros would not have been able to prevent his brothers, headstrong and reckless, from following him into that darkened, doomed house but these are not normal circumstances. He hurries home on foot and reaches the door as he hears the king cry out. Perhaps Finwë is already dead and Maedhros is simply knocked aside with the awful weapon, senseless violence simply because he was in the way and Morgoth had no mercy left for those who stood in his way. Perhaps he was able to get in between his grandfather and Morgoth to no avail and they are killed side by side in a vicious struggle that nonetheless is over quickly.

-Their bodies are found by the other Fëanorians. Celegorm howls but the awful sound is broken by Caranthir’s hand clamped over his mouth. They take far longer to arrive at Taniquetil and Maglor delivers a broken explanation to Manwë and his father. He cannot articulate the scene or the happenings, his shock is too great.

Had Maedhros been slain with the king, I think the events of the book would follow a similar course to if he had simply remained in Angband. Fëanor’s grief and rage is even more pronounced, he leaves Valinor still more quickly and recklessly. 

There is one difference I could potentially see with the first kinslaying. 

Olwë still refuses him the swan ships but, both in compassion for the loss of both parent and child and not a small amount of apprehension at the state Fëanor has come to him in, does offer a less efficient alternative in the form of smaller sailing ships the Teleri use for shorter journeys. They will not carry as many but far more can be spared as they are easier to make and more widely used among mariners. 

Perhaps Fëanor is caught up enough in his grief to accept this, uncaring that it will take longer. He has the will to make the journey. A minor obstacle will not set him from his course. 

His host takes the smaller alternatives. There is no kinslaying, no slaying of elf by elf on the shores of Aman. If a Doom is proclaimed, it is in no way punitive but far more of a warning to the hosts of what awaits them, not what they have brought upon themselves through their own violence. 

Perhaps he still attacks in which case the events continue as they do in canon. They are doomed for the spilling of elven blood at the hands of their own kindred. 

Fëanor still burns the ships at Losgar. The murder of his son only exacerbates his mistrust in Nolofinwë who has the audacity to have all his children living. There is no protest from his six surviving sons and all walk away from the fires. 

The Battle Under the Stars starts off similarly. The Noldor host defeat the orcs with ease and speed, coaxing Fëanor to travel Northeast towards Angband to slay still more of them. His sons do not get to him in time and he is struck down by Gothmog. 

Fëanor dies on the battlefield as his sons arrive. They are unable to move him from the host of balrogs and orcs but do manage to drive them away after Fëanor’s death.

An emissary comes from Angband. It makes no attempt at a parlay and the words are purely in threat. Retreat and give up all claims or suffering shall be thy lot. No response is sent back and the next few years are marked by a number of smaller sieges and ambushes that kill not a small number of the host.

The children of Nolofinwë, Fingon in particular, are less enthusiastic about journeying. If they attempt to cross the Ice it is after a longer delay.

The sun and moon rise. Morgoth shrouds his fortress in choking clouds.

If the Host of Nolofinwë cross, they arrive later than in canon. They still fight a siege that kills Argon. Turgon still departs from the host.

When drafting a bullet fic for a timeline where Maedhros was not rescued by Fingon, I was struck by just how much this changed the course of events. 

Just in one place, the two hosts of the Noldor never fully reconcile. There is not open hostility, or it is at least rare. But the alliance is a cold, fraught one. Other individual bonds between the cousins suffer. Celegorm and Curufin do not have their eldest brother to push them against pride and remind them of their love outside the house of Fëanor. Their relationship with Aredhel never resumes as it was in Valinor or even a shadow of it. Thus, Aredhel will likely not leave Gondolin to seek the brothers. She does not meet Eöl and Maeglin is never born. This of course has far reaching consequences for the fate of Gondolin that I struggled to reconcile with anything resembling a canon timeline. 

Maglor is king regent after the death of Fëanor. The crown is never given to Nolofinwë though many among his host consider him the rightful king. The Nolofinwëan and Arafinwëan host attempt more diplomatic contact once in Beleriand. If the first kinslaying does not happen, there is less tension with Doriath though it is not nonexistent.

I do wonder if the third kinslaying would have taken place at all or if the Fëanorian host would have been too scattered and broken to launch a full attack

Alternately I do wonder what would have happened if one or more had been taken by Morgoth during the Darkening. That puts the Valar in a somewhat more difficult position, at least for the immediate present. A murder cannot be undone but one taken and presumably still alive, suffering, when more suffering could be prevented.