#underratedcharacterevent

[doodle-pops]

Foreign Hearts

Gil Galad x modern human!reader

A/N: At last, the final piece for the event of this year is out! I wanted to go out with a bang but I didn’t expect to write so much (ノ_･､). Enjoy!

Warnings:modern human reader, fluff, humour, modern reader in Middle Earth, relationship talk

Words: 3.7k

Synopsis: Reflecting on the secrecy of the love you’ve shared with the High King, turned into another romantic and heartwarming moment between you two.

The sun had just begun its slow descent, casting a golden hue over the serene landscape of Rivendell. The air was crisp and cool, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers and the gentle rustle of leaves. The melody of a distant waterfall filled the air, mingling with the song of birds that flitted through the trees. Rivendell was a place of peace, of beauty that seemed untouched by time, and it had become your sanctuary since that fateful day when you had mysteriously appeared in the forests nearby.

It had been months since you found yourself in Middle-earth, a place you had only known from the pages of books and the whispers of legends. One moment, you had been living your life in the modern world, surrounded by the familiar hum of technology and the bustle of city life; the next, you were wandering through a forest that seemed to belong to another time, another world entirely.

The elves who had found you, clad in their silver and green, had been as shocked by your appearance as you were by theirs. You were an anomaly, a puzzle they couldn’t quite piece together. Lord Elrond, the wise and kind ruler of Rivendell, had taken you in, offering you shelter and care as you adjusted to this strange new reality.

Living in Rivendell was like stepping into a dream—everything was so ethereal, so perfect, that you often had to pinch yourself to make sure it was real. Yet, despite the beauty around you, it was hard not to feel out of place. The elves, with their flowing robes, graceful movements, and ancient wisdom, seemed like beings from a different world altogether. Your modern speech, your casual mannerisms, even your sense of humour—things that had been perfectly normal back home—stood out starkly against the elegance of elven customs.

There were times when you caught the elves watching you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, their ageless faces betraying their thoughts more than they likely realised. You had tried, at first, to conform to their ways, to adopt their formal speech and graceful etiquette. But it was exhausting to maintain, and eventually, you had accepted that you were simply different. You were a visitor in their world, and while you respected their ways, you couldn’t entirely change who you were.

It was during one of these quiet, introspective days that you first met Gil-galad.

The High King of the Noldor had arrived in Rivendell on a visit to consult with his Herald, Lord Elrond. You had heard of him in passing—the Elven king who ruled over Lindon, a figure of great authority and wisdom. But you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming that someone of his stature would have little reason to notice someone like you.

You were wrong.

The meeting had been as unexpected as everything else in Middle-earth. You had been wandering through one of the many gardens of Rivendell, lost in thought, when you nearly collided with someone. Looking up, you found yourself staring into the most striking pair of blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall—taller than any of the other elves you had met—his presence commanding and regal, yet there was a warmth in his gaze that immediately put you at ease.

“Forgive me,” he had said, his voice smooth and deep, though the amused glint in his eyes told you he wasn’t at all displeased by the encounter.

You had stammered out an apology, feeling flustered and out of place in front of someone so imposing. But the King had only smiled, intrigued by your manner of speech—so different from the formal, melodic tones of the elves. His curiosity was piqued, and instead of continuing on his way, he had engaged you in conversation.

At first, you had been nervous, unsure of how to speak to someone of such high status. But as the conversation flowed, you found yourself relaxing. Gil-galad was different from what you had expected. He was charming and kind, with a sharp wit that matched your own. He seemed genuinely interested in your world, in your experiences, and you found yourself laughing and talking more freely than you had since you arrived in Middle-earth.

Over the course of his stay in Rivendell, you and the High King crossed paths often. Each encounter left you feeling a strange mixture of excitement and confusion. He was a King, after all, and you were… well, you weren’t even sure what you were anymore. Yet, there was no denying the connection that had begun to form between you. It was as though he saw past the strangeness of your situation and was drawn to the very things that made you different.

It was during one of these visits that he had gifted you the music box. A small, intricately carved thing made of mahogany, it played a melody that was hauntingly beautiful. You had been surprised, touched by the gesture, and from that moment on, the music box had become one of your most treasured possessions.

Now, as you sat on the stone bench in one of Rivendell’s many gardens, you found yourself once again lost in thought, the music box cradled in your hands. You had come here to find some peace, to escape the swirling thoughts and emotions that had been troubling you ever since your feelings for Gil-galad began to deepen.

The gardens were quiet, the air cool and filled with the scent of blooming flowers. The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft, golden light over everything. It was a perfect evening, the kind that made you forget, if only for a moment, that you were far from home.

“Does it not trouble you?”

The familiar, smooth voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked up to see Gil-galad approaching, his expression curious and gentle. He was dressed in his usual attire—garments of silver and royal blue, the colors of his house—his presence as commanding as ever. He sat down beside you on the bench, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, but not so close as to make you uncomfortable.

You blinked, trying to shake off the fog of your thoughts as you focused on him. But your gaze was drawn to his lips, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything else. His lips, curved into that familiar teasing smile, held your attention, and your thoughts muddled together into a jumble of emotions.

He noticed your gaze and, with a smirk, leaned closer, his voice laced with amusement. “Is there something on my face, or rather, my lips, my love?” he teased, drawing out the moment, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing intently on the music box in your hands. Your fingers traced the delicate carvings, desperate for something to distract you from the fluttering in your chest. “Your teasing is going to get you into trouble one day, My King,” you muttered, your voice a mix of shyness and annoyance—though the latter was directed more at yourself than at him.

Gil-galad’s expression softened as he leaned back slightly, giving you a bit more space. “How many times must I remind you? You may call me Ereinion,” he said gently, though there was a hint of playful reproach in his tone.

You kept your eyes on the music box, refusing to look up and meet his gaze. “Once more…I suppose,” you replied quietly.

Silence settled between you as he continued to watch you, his eyes tracing the movements of your hands and the way you muttered softly to yourself in a language he couldn’t fully understand. Your mother tongue, ancient and melodic, was a lexicon from a world and age far removed from his own. Yet, despite the differences, he found comfort in these moments, in simply observing you in your element, even when the words escaped him.

“You are unhappy, are you not?” he asked, his voice gentle but laced with an undertone of certainty.

A smile tugged at your lips, as though his statement amused you, and for a brief moment, a crackle of energy filled the air, as if the very atmosphere responded to your unspoken thoughts. Setting the music box aside, you turned to face him, giving him the full weight of your attention. “Why would you come to such a conclusion, or rather, how?” you asked, disbelief coloring your tone. “I don’t recall ever giving the impression that I was.”

His expression softened, though there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes. “You do not address me by my name as lovers do,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a sadness that pained you to hear. “It is almost as if you were embarrassed or uninterested in being with me. Is it because of our secrecy?”

And as the question hung in the air between you, you realised that this was a moment of truth, a moment when the feelings you had been trying to ignore could no longer be denied.

The weight of his words hung in the air, pressing against your chest like a heavy stone. Gil-galad’s expression, so often the picture of composed regality, was softened by the sadness in his eyes, a sadness that you had never intended to cause. But the truth, like the stone in your chest, was complicated and unyielding.

You reached out, your fingers brushing against his hand, warm and comforting as always. “Ereinion,” you began, the use of his name deliberate, a balm for the hurt you had unknowingly inflicted. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed or uninterested in being with you. Far from it.”

He turned his hand over to grasp yours, his thumb gently tracing circles on your palm. The simple gesture was comforting, grounding you in the moment as you searched for the right words. Words that would explain what you felt without causing him more pain.

“You have to understand,” you continued, your voice soft but steady, “I’m a human, Ereinion. A mortal. And that means…well, it means that I’m different from the people you’ve ruled and loved for centuries. I’ve seen how some of the elves speak about humans—like we’re nothing more than a fleeting thought in their minds. I know that not all of them feel that way, but enough do that it will make our relationship…complicated.”

His brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, simply listening as you voiced the thoughts you had kept buried for so long.

“You’re their High King, their leader, and their symbol of everything that is strong and eternal about the Eldar. And if they knew that you had chosen a human, someone who will live for only a blink of an eye compared to their long lives, to stand by your side…” You trailed off, shaking your head slightly. “I don’t think they would accept it. Not easily, anyway.”

He started to speak, but you held up your hand, a small smile playing on your lips as you looked at him, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s not just that, Ereinion. It’s also…well, I’m happy with things the way they are. Keeping our relationship a secret, it means I don’t have to deal with the expectations and judgments that would come if I were known as your chosen one. It’s a relief, honestly.”

You shifted slightly on the bench, feeling the smooth, cool wood beneath you as you gathered your thoughts. “When I first arrived in Middle-earth—when I was suddenly…here—I was lost. Confused. I didn’t understand your world or its customs. And despite the kindness I’ve been shown, especially by Lord Elrond, I still struggle with it. I’m not like the others. My behaviour, my speech, even the way I think, it’s all…different. I’ve spent over a year in Rivendell, learning and adapting as best I can, but there are times when I still feel like an outsider, like I don’t quite belong.”

The grip he held on your hand tightened slightly, a silent reassurance that he was there, that he understood. His eyes, so often filled with the weight of his responsibilities, now held only concern for you, his secret love.

“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty,” you added quickly, seeing the flicker of guilt cross his features. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I’m grateful that we can keep our relationship private. It means I don’t have to deal with the pressure of being a ruler, of trying to prove my worth to people who might never accept me. I’ve heard how some of the elves speak of humans—how we’re seen as lesser, as irrelevant. I’ve witnessed the way they look down on us, dismiss us.”

You paused, meeting his gaze with a steady look. “There’s no way they would accept me as their leader. And that’s okay. I don’t need them to. I’m happy with my freedom, with not having to live up to impossible expectations or navigate the treacherous waters of court politics and finding myself crying in a corner every day of the week, anxiously. I’m content being your secret lover, someone who can love you without the weight of a crown on my head.”

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, making his expression softened further, the sadness giving way to a deep, abiding affection. “You are remarkable,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of awe that made your heart skip a beat. “To find contentment in such circumstances…it’s not something many could do.”

You chuckled softly, the sound breaking the tension that had built between you. “Well, I’ve always been one to adapt, but not this time. Maybe if it was another human instead of me, they might enjoy the idea of being a royal more than the problems it bring,” you teased lightly. “Besides, I’ve never been one for grand titles or public adoration. I prefer the quiet moments, like this one, where I can just be myself with you.”

He nodded, a small, grateful smile crossing his lips. “It’s those quiet moments that I cherish most as well,” he admitted. “In all my years, with all the burdens of leadership, it’s rare to find someone who sees me not as the High King, but as Ereinion—just an elf who loves and is loved in return.”

Your heart warmed at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “And that’s exactly how I see you,” you said softly. “I fell in love with you, not for your title or your power, but for who you are—the elf who listens to my ramblings, who teases me when I’m being too serious, who finds joy in the small things.”

The weight of your conversation still hung in the air, but with it came a sense of relief—a feeling that you had finally voiced the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind for so long. Gil-galad’s expression had softened, his eyes still holding that deep affection, but now there was an understanding between you that hadn’t existed before.

You broke the silence first, a small smile playing on your lips as you leaned back on the bench, your fingers still intertwined with his. “You know,” you began, your tone lightening, “I never imagined when I first ended up in Middle-earth that I’d be sitting here with the High King of the Elves, having a heart-to-heart in a secret garden.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a deep, warm rumble that you felt as much as heard. “And I never imagined that I’d fall in love with a human from a world I’ve never even heard of,” he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes. “But life has a way of surprising us, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, a laugh escaping your lips as you thought back to the strange journey that had brought you here. “That’s an understatement. I mean, one day I’m sitting in my apartment, minding my own business, and the next thing I know, I’m in Rivendell, surrounded by elves and trying to figure out how not to embarrass myself with every other word I say.”

Gil-galad’s smile widened, and he leaned back beside you, the tension between you dissipating like morning mist. “I remember the first time I heard you speak,” he mused, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “You were trying to explain the concept of a ‘microwave’ to Elrond, and he looked as though he was trying to decipher an ancient riddle.”

You groaned, your cheeks heating at the memory. “Oh, don’t remind me. I must have sounded like a complete lunatic. I’m still not sure he believes that microwaves aren’t some kind of magic.”

“Well,” Gil-galad said, his tone mock-serious, “you have to admit, it does sound rather magical. A box that cooks food in mere moments? Even I have trouble wrapping my head around it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to keep the grin off your face. “It’s just science,” you replied with a playful nudge. “But then again, in a world where magic is real, I suppose science might seem a little…mystical.”

He chuckled again, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “That’s one of the things I love about you,” he said, his voice warm. “You bring a perspective that’s entirely different from anything I’ve known. You see the world in a way that none of us do, and it’s…refreshing.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “So what you’re saying is, you fell for me because I’m weird?”

He laughed, the sound full and genuine, and you couldn’t help but join in. “Well, if by ‘weird,’ you mean unique, then yes,” he teased, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And besides, I think you’re the only person who can make me laugh like this.”

You tilted your head, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, so I’m your court jester now? Should I start juggling or learn to ride a unicycle?”

Shaking his head, his laughter fading into a soft smile. “No, you’re much more than that. But if you do learn to juggle, I’m sure we could arrange a performance at the next feast.”

You playfully swatted his arm, your heart feeling lighter with each moment you spent in his company. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Only with you, my love.”

The warmth of his breath against your skin sent a pleasant shiver down your spine, and you felt your resolve to keep things light slipping away under the intensity of his gaze. But before you could lose yourself in the moment, you caught yourself and leaned back, a smirk on your lips as you tried to regain the upper hand.

“You know,” you said, your tone teasing, “if this is your way of convincing me to move in with you, you’re going to have to try harder. I’ve grown rather fond of my little room in Rivendell, and I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my bach pad just yet.”

His brow raised and lips quirking into a smile. “Oh? And what would it take to tempt you away from your ‘bach pad,’ as you call it? A private suite in the palace? Endless bouquets of flowers delivered daily? A personal chef to prepare all your meals?”

You pretended to consider his offer, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm, those are all tempting…but I’m not sure. I mean, who’s going to teach Elrond about the wonders of modern technology if I’m not around?”

He laughed again, a deep, rumbling sound that made your heart flutter. “You make a good point. I’m not sure he’s ready to tackle the mysteries of the ‘microwave’ on his own.”

“I don’t think he’s even ready for to learn about the internet or the blender. However, he did take learning the TV, fairly,” you laughed.

“When you do, inform me for I would be interested in witnessing his utter confusion,” he replied with equal merriment.

You grinned, pleased with your little victory, but before you could bask in it for too long, Gil-galad leaned in once more, his expression suddenly serious. “But in all seriousness,” he said, his voice gentle, “I want you to know that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Whether it’s in Rivendell, here in my palace, or anywhere else…as long as we’re together, I’ll be happy.”

The sincerity in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for what to say. You had always known that he cared for you deeply, but hearing it spoken aloud, in such a simple, heartfelt way, made your chest tighten with emotion.

After a beat, you managed a smile, though it was softer now, more vulnerable. “I feel the same way,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And as much as I joke about it…I know that wherever you are, I’ll always feel at home.”

His hand tightened around yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “Then that’s all I need,” he said quietly.

The moment stretched out between you, filled with a warmth and understanding that words couldn’t fully capture. It was in the way he looked at you, the way his hand fit perfectly around yours, the way the world seemed to fall away when you were together. Here, in that garden, under the stars of a world you never expected to call home, you found something you never knew you were searching for.

But even as you basked in the comfort of the moment, a flicker of mischief returned to your eyes. “But just so you know,” you added with a grin, “if you ever try to get me to wear one of those elaborate court attires, we might have a problem.”

Launching into another round of laughter, the sound echoing in the stillness of the night, he shook his head. “Noted,” he said, his eyes shining with affection. “I wouldn’t dream of it. But I have to say, I think you’d look stunning.”

You wrinkled your nose playfully. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Majesty. I prefer my sweatpants and t-shirts, thank you very much.”

He smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your temple. “And that’s exactly how I like you,” he murmured, his voice filled with a warmth that made your heart grown warmer.

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[felagund-the-valiant]

Your Father's Son - Curufin x maia!reader

For the first time ever, Curufin wishes he wouldn’t resemble his father so much.

Words: 1.3k

Tags: Curufin has a bit of an identity crisis, fluff, reader is a Maia of Aulë

A/N: I genuinely never thought the day would come where I write a fic for this guy. Honestly don’t care that this is probably not really canon compliant, this version simply speaks to me so much more. Since it’s pre-oath, I imagine the daddy issues just hadn’t taken on their final form yet. Guess I can still sneak this into @doodle-pops underrated character event 👀

Whenever Curufinwë and his family visited the Halls of Aulë, his father really lived up to his name. The fire of his fëa glowed in his eyes and filled his voice with an insurmountable passion, captivating all who listened, as he described new projects and techniques he had come up with. His mother always stood next to his father, beaming with pride at her husband’s accomplishments and occasionally chiming in with remarks about her own craft.

Today was a truly remarkable occasion. His father stood at the centre of the hall, holding an intricately crafted box in his hands.

“Thank you for so graciously receiving me and my family, Lord Aulë,” his deep voice boomed across the room. “Today, I am here to reveal my greatest creations yet. Behold.” He opened the box and produced three brightly gleaming gems. A collective gasp went through the hall and excited whispers broke out amongst the present Maiar and Elves.

“The Silmarils,” his father continued, “imbued with the light of the Two Trees themselves.” Curufinwë watched with pride, as his father was immediately swarmed by curious onlookers, hoping to gain a closer look at the Silmarils and ask him all manner of questions about the creative process.

He spotted a familiar face in the crowd and a pleasant tingle spread through his body. You wore an expression of pure awe, eyes glued to his father’s spectacular creations. How he wished you would look at him like that. He would gladly rip the Silmarils from his father’s hands to offer them to you if that’s what it took.

Sometimes he wondered if his feelings could ever be reciprocated. The Valar and Maiar seemed so close and yet so far away and to his knowledge, Maia and Elf couples weren’t exactly common.

Your eyes met and you offered him a happy smile, making your way over to him. “It is lovely to see you here, my lord,” you said with a polite bow.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied, taking your hand to ghost his lips across the back of it, delighting in the surprised blush on your face.

“What your father created … breathtaking. We’re all honoured to be in the presence of such a master craftsman,” you gushed.

Curufinwë’s smile almost bordered on smugness. How else could anyone feel in the presence of the greatest of the Eldar? He knew how much work his father had put into creating the Silmarils. How much of his fiery fëa had flown into them. All the sleepless hours slaving away in the smouldering forges had more than paid off.

“Oh, I almost forgot! Your mother showed me one of the new hair brooches you made for her. It was stunning, you truly are your father’s son. With all the talent you inherited from him, surely there are creations rivalling the Silmarils in your future.”

Curufinwë felt an unexpected pull in his chest. You truly are your father’s son. Words he had heard more times than he could count and that he normally perceived as the greatest of compliments, but somehow it felt different when they came from you. Was that all you thought about when you looked at him? How much he took after his father?

He should be honoured, like he always was. Who else but him could even dream of holding a candle to his father’s genius? And yet …  I’m more than just my father’s son, his mind told him, but he immediately suppressed that ridiculous complaint. He clenched his jaw and gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“I pray you are right.” His façade could never hope to deceive the perceptive Maiar.

“Are you all right, my lord? Did I say something to upset you?” you questioned but he only shook his head silently and took his leave with a grumbled Please excuse me.

He didn’t know how many corners he had turned when he just so happened to find himself in front of a mirror in an empty hallway. He recognised the frame’s design immediately – it was one of the first crafts for Aulë he had helped his father with. He could still vividly remember the pride he felt when his father had praised his diligent work and how he had begun to chase that high ever since. For as long as he could remember, nothing had mattered as much to him as gaining his father’s approval.

Curufinwë stared into the mirror, watching his father’s piercing gaze stare back at him. His face contorted into a scowl, just like his father’s did, when in the presence of his blasted half-brothers.

He tentatively reached up to loosen the pins that held his hair in place, watching it cascade across his shoulders and back like liquid midnight. No matter how much he wrecked his mind, he couldn’t think of a single hairstyle that his father did not favour as well.

“There you are,” your voice suddenly appeared next to him. He tried to hide how startled he was as he turned to face you.

“You followed me?”

“I wanted to make sure you’re all right,” you said timidly, as if debating whether or not to regret your action. He couldn’t give you an honest answer, so he remained silent.

After a while of uncomfortable silence, he spoke up. “Is he all you think about when you see me?”

“He?”

“My father.”

“What? Of course not-“

“I have talent of my own, you know. Everyone always says how alike we are. How grateful I should be, to have inherited his skills. But-“ His breath quickened, and he turned his back to you, running his hands across his face in frustration. I’m more than just my father’s son. “I don’t want you to think of me like that. Not you, of all people.”

You moved to stand in front of him and took his hands away from his face, holding them in your own instead. For a moment, Curufinwë thought he saw something akin to genuine affection in your eyes, but surely his mind was deceiving him.

“Who says that’s what I do?” you said tenderly. “I adore you for who you are. Your father-“

“You adore me?” he interrupted you in disbelief. A sudden realisation seemed to dawn on you, as if you hadn’t meant to use those words.

“Well, yes, of course I do,” you floundered, “A great deal. You are an amazing craftsman in your own right and the passion you show for your works is most certainly your own. I love when you come to me to show me new ideas, I … could listen to you for hours.” You bit your lower lip and looked away, your statement hanging heavy in the air for a moment.

Curufinwë swallowed strongly and then took hold of your chin to turn your face towards him slowly. “I … adore you, too,” he confessed and felt his heart swell as your eyes lit up with joy and your lips curved into a smile. “There’s only one opinion I value more than my father’s when it comes to my craft. Yours. Sharing my ideas with you is one of my greatest joys.”

“I don’t really know what to say,” you replied, but the smile on your face never faded.

“You don’t need to say anything. For now, let’s just … I don’t know. Come to terms with these feelings. And forget about my embarrassing insecurities,” he mumbled the last part and felt his cheeks heat up, hoping it wasn’t too noticeable.

You laughed and nodded. “I’d like that.”

A small part of him wondered if this is how his father had felt, when he discovered his mother’s mutual feelings, but he silenced that part immediately. Not now, idiot.

He shook his head, and a  relieved smile graced his features. Maybe the Maiar weren’t so far away after all. Maybe – just maybe – he didn’t mirror his father as much as everyone told him.

Coming from you, he chose to believe it for now.

[lamemaster]

The Prince My Sister Speaks Of

Pairing: Rog x Reader'

Summary: Rog carries within his heart these stolen pieces of you. He has loved you from the very first moment of meeting you. His affections for you, however, remain a well-kept secret.

AN: I really wanted to participate in this event. So, here's my entry.

Rog pines. He does so as his hammer shapes the seething metal, he does so as he sits in lengthy meetings. He would rather perish pining for you than witness another fate.

For a looming hardy smith, Rog's heart is nothing but the softest cotton for you. It blooms from a single glance by you and weaves itself into a thread to make a tapestry of you.

Even now as you chase after a giggling princess Idril, Rog's eyes follow your every movement. You are Lady Elenwe's sister, thus, Idril's aunt.

You had left Valinor following your sister. Rog wasn't there to witness your journey or your loss. His life had started on the shores of Middle Earth separated by seas, it was a wonder that Rog's path had somehow met yours.

You carry in you the light of Aman. The entire city of Gondolin knows of you. King Turgon's sister-in-law, who resides in the world of dreams.

A romanticist. You are a dreamer. A soul who walks the paths of Gondolin with a skip in their step, crouching among stacks of books all detailing deeds of love. During dark solitary nights when most scurry to light lamps or find comfort in their homes, you are found staring dreamily into the sky that holds all of Varda's creations.

Maybe that is the reason why King Turgon entrusts you completely with his treasured daughter.

You have looked after Princess Idril ever since your sister's death. Not even an ounce of darkness has come to the princess in your wake. It is said when the entire family grieved for Lady Elenwe's death, you were there holding on to your niece, singing her a soothing lullaby.

Rog carries within his heart these stolen pieces of you. He has loved you from the very first moment of meeting you. His affections for you, however, remain a well-kept secret.

The room pulses with an inexplicable heat, perhaps a result of the wine flowing freely among the company. King Turgon succumbed to intoxication long ago, his alcohol tolerance no match for the revelry.

Glorfindel and Ecthelion remain locked in conquest over the coveted loveseat. The others have long abandoned any attempts to intervene, letting the two elves sort out their seating dispute in their own boisterous manner.

Penlod, wisely, chose solitude over the rowdiness of the gathering, seeking refuge in this quieter corner. Meanwhile, Egalmoth has shifted his focus from the merriment to engage in what seems like profound conversations with the sapphires adorning his crown.

And then there's you — comfortably nestled on the chaise, a half-filled glass of wine cradled in your hand, your cheeks flushed from the abundant indulgence.

Yet, amid this chaotic scene, a world-altering event remains unnoticed by the intoxicated crowd. Rog, a pillar of unwavering composure, sits with unflinching poise. His back is as straight as a spear, seemingly impervious to the revelry around him. The wine in his glass ripples with the faint tremors he can barely conceal.

The epicenter of this upheaval? You. Leaning heavily against Rog, your head rests trustingly on his broad shoulder. Your hair cascades like a waterfall down his back, and the warmth of your breath skims his neck as you mumble incoherent words.

For Rog, each beat of his heart resounds louder than the clamor of his own forge. Your hushed, unintelligible utterances, so close to his ear, send ripples of both trepidation and exhilaration through him.

"She said emm she said... that I would marry a prince," your tipsy murmurs reach Rog's ears, your lips brushing temptingly close. He takes measured breaths, attempting to steady his racing heart as your ramblings persist. "Elenwe said that...," the mention of your sister stirs an involuntary twitch from Turgon even in his slumber, though you seem blissfully unaware. "but prince work in forge like Feanor did...then are you the prince? My prince?" you query, your voice a delicate melody that winds its way into Rog's very soul.

A prince...a concept so alien to him, a notion he could have never imagined. You, who were not born of royalty, now address him with a term that feels foreign yet tantalizingly sweet. As you delicately set aside your glass, Rog's world shifts. Your warmth leaves him, though the lingering sensation of your touch remains etched upon his skin.

Turning back towards him, you rise unsteadily, your hands finding purchase on his sturdy shoulders. Your bleary smile, a radiant beacon amid the haze of the room, holds a magnetic pull. Rog's lips twitch, the desire to mirror your expression warring with the taut control he maintains.

Your hands cup his rugged face, drawing his gaze into the depths of your eyes. In this intimate moment, your voice is a whisper, softer than a sigh, "Will you be my prince, Rog? Will you fulfill the prophecy my sister shared? Will you wed me?" The words hang in the air, untainted by the usual lilt of jest or the haze of inebriation. They are a genuine inquiry, vulnerable and heartfelt.

Rog's heart, once a forge that shaped the mightiest of metals, now hammers erratically within his chest. His dark eyes, a reflection of his internal turmoil, search yours for any trace of jest or illusion. But what he finds is unwavering sincerity, a truth that cuts through the haze of the evening.

From the stacked towers of your books to the winding paths of Gondolin your eyes always find him. The Lord of the house of Hammer of Wrath.

You can't help but muse about the way his eyes shine under the light of the Sun. Or how desperately you ward off elleth lingering about his forge.

These days even your darling niece, Idril finds immense joy in rushing into her father's office specifically during meetings with a certain lord. And you can't help but follow Idril with a fluttering heart.

On starry nights with no company in sight, you can't help but ask Elenwe, "Is he the one your stories spoke of?"

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine Beleg comforting you

(I wanted to write this for @doodle-pops 's underrated character event. This was the best I got in the comfort section because I had only angsty ideas after reading The Children Of Hurin. It was a real rollercoaster that one. )

Warnings: getting lost, a bit of family angst, comfort.

-------------------------------

- It was by strange luck you had somehow managed to get through Melian’s girdle and get lost in the woods of Doriath. You didn’t even realize you had passed something magical. You just walked deeper into the woods and then realized you were terribly lost as the forest only seemed to continue and continue. 

- You nearly got desperate trying to find your way out, especially when the night was coming and creatures of the night were awaking. Nothing good ever came at night, but luckily, you were found by Beleg, one of Doriath’s march wardens. 

- He was surprised after finding you inside his kin’s woods without even them noticing you, but he was no less willing to help you, especially after learning you were only trying to find some herbs and got lost. 

- Beleg was rather easygoing and helpful, nothing you imagined an elven march warden to be, but you were grateful and seemed to click immediately, conversing about things and making funny jokes. He helped you find the herbs you needed before escorting you back to the borders back to your hometown. 

- You grew to like his company and didn’t want it to be a one-time encounter. You hoped to see him again, but since he likely had better things to do, you kept quiet and thanked him for his help before bidding farewell when it was time for you to return home before your family got worried.

- A few days passed, and you arrived at your usual spot where you liked to read in peace without your family bothering you. You enjoyed listening to the sounds of nature, and your spot offered a nice view of the surroundings. 

- You had nearly forgotten the incident inside Doriath’s borders but you still missed Beleg and his calming presence. The thought of purposely getting lost again just to see him crossed your mind, but you didn’t want to bother him and possibly make him annoyed with you. It was perhaps better just to forget the elf and move on with your life. 

- Well, you didn’t have to think about it too long– because after reading a few pages of your book. You were startled by someone commenting on the story and leaning against the tree right beside you, and that certain someone was Beleg himself. 

- His appearance confused you, and the elf was only amused by your surprised reaction. 

- Beleg told you he came to check if you had gotten lost again and then found you reading and decided to join in. You were happy to see him and slightly offended by his remark. You were not that bad in directions. 

- He complimented your taste in stories because he enjoyed reading the book with you, and then strangely, you just started spending time from there, talking and reading books you sometimes brought with you. 

- He was fun company, and you enjoyed listening to the stories about his kin and the forest he lived in. Menegroth and its forest sounded magical. You nearly wished to see it one day. 

- He sometimes even brought books you might enjoy in the common language since you were not familiar with his people’s language. 

- His free-spirited nature was so infectious that you sometimes wandered through the woods with him, discovering plants and animals you had not seen before. You began to enjoy his company more every day, and he gave good advice when times seemed rough and you felt down. 

- You valued the friendship you shared with him, and honestly speaking, you don’t think you have ever felt so heard and valued by anyone else, not even with your family. You love them, but sometimes it feels like they brush you off more and leave your feelings invalid whenever an argument is born. 

- Like this incident. You did not want to bother Beleg with your familial drama, but you were feeling so down after the argument with your family that you needed someone else’s company, so you wandered to your usual meeting spot and found him there. 

—------

“Morning, (Name)! How are you feeling on this wonderful morning?” Beleg greeted with that usual grin of his. You nearly felt better, but the heavy thoughts in your mind only made you utter a greeting in return as you stopped beside the tree. 

Beleg seemed to sense something was going on as his grin dropped, and he looked at you with concern. “(Name)? Is everything alright? You seem… like you have a dark cloud over your head,” he questioned. 

You unintentionally choked and released a tear. “Sorry! It’s just…” You dried off the tear and tried to control yourself. “... I’m just having a bad day,” 

“Well, it seems it's more than just a bad day,” Beleg uttered as he carefully observed you and your body language. He was now more concerned and could sense you were holding in deep emotions and not the good kind. “Tell me, my friend. What happened? Did something terrible happen to you or anyone you know?” he asked as he gently laid his hand on your back. 

You struggled to hold in your tears, but they forcefully came out, and choked gasps escaped your mouth. “No! It’s… “You rubbed your eyes, but they still watered with painful hot tears. “I had an argument with my family, and nothing good was said,” you confessed. “I feel so empty… and like – nothing I do matters,” Beleg’s eyes dropped with sympathy as he comfortably rubbed your back. 

“I don’t believe that. You had done quite a lot of things that mattered,” Beleg said. “It doesn’t really feel like it, especially to my family,” you said. 

Beleg was quiet for a moment before wrapping his arms around you and bringing you in a gentle hug. You were surprised for a moment before wrapping your arms around him and weeping out all the tears you tried to hold in. Beleg gently stroked your hair as you cried against his chest, nearly feeling his own tears form in his eyes. 

“It’s okay to cry for not all tears are evil,” he said as he continued stroking your hair. “What you might not see in yourself, others see in you. You do matter. To others and to me…” he held you as you two stood beneath the tree.

[doodle-pops]

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆You Have Heterochromia Eyes

Headcanons: Curufin, Argon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Thingol and Beleg

A/N: First of the event to go up. Been thinking of doing one with reader having starry eyes, but that’s an idea for another time. Enjoy!

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Curufin

Known for his keen senses, the moment you entered the room, he was able to distinguish the difference in your aura from everyone else, and it was all because of your eyes.

“Your eyes are quite captivating,” he remarks as he stares into your orbs, wondering which to focus on. His inquisitiveness causes him to slightly lean into your space to gain a closer look.

Of course, you respond informing him that your eyes were more unusual than captivating. To which he shuts down politely, informing you that ‘unique’ and ‘majestic’ were the proper words to describe your eyes.

Curufin usually finds it impossible to leave your side, wanting to learn all that he can from you while gazing off into your eyes and getting lost as the conversation continues. He finds it difficult to remain focused, especially when you meet his eyes with an equal stare. “Which eyes should I stare into today?”

As a way of appreciating your eyes, he doesn’t waste a moment launching himself into the forge to whip up a piece of jewellery that matches the shades of your eyes and your personality.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Argon

The youngest Prince of the House of Fingolfin becomes a stuttering, blushing mess as he morphs into a poet while lying about his poetic skills being terrible. He can’t take his eyes off yours to the point that he gets scolded for staring too hard.

He always finds excuses whenever he’s around you to look into your eyes, so he doesn’t come off as creepy. Mostly making jokes or performing some stunts so your eyes can always be on him.

Compliments roll off his tongue ten times every ten minutes because you deserve to know that he adores your eyes and how much they suit everything about you. Loves to make comments about Eru not knowing which colour to give you, so he gifted you the two/three most beautiful.

“It’s almost as if your eyes match your mood as well,” he’ll mumble while pushing his face closer to get a better look as if he wasn’t already an inch away from your face.

As a way of showing his appreciation, he could commission a piece of jewellery for him to wear with the respective gemstones that match your eyes. That way, whenever you’re apart and he looks at it, he’ll remember your eyes (because they’re also sparkly and bright).

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Finarfin

He has seen his fair share of heterochromatic eyes before (his eldest brother), so it wasn’t a big thing when he heard people speaking about yours. That was until he stumbled upon you for the first time and blurted out that your eyes were the prettiest to ever exist, better than his brother.

Finarfin makes it his business to ensure that you don’t ever forget that your eyes are filled with the essence of the Light of the Two Trees, and if anyone disagrees, he’s having none of that.

Poems and songs written by yours truly and recited on the cliffsides or beaches during sunsets and sunrises because your eyes sparkle and light up even more. Gets lost in your eyes, literally, because they’re the windows to your soul.

Loves to observe you as you speak due to your expressiveness which becomes enhanced by your eyes. Every micro-expression, he picks up and fawns over because how can someone look as beautiful as you do when blinking.

Can never be upset with you because all you have to do is pout and flash him those puppy and BAM, the argument is over. It’s worse if you cry because you look beautiful when you do, and he forgets that you’re sad, caught up in your gorgeousness.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Egalmoth

He tells you immediately, right off the bat, that your eyes were the blueprint for the reason behind the name of his House (lies obviously) because he’s starstruck by the magnificence behind them.

Egalmoth deeply appreciates your eyes and the significance they hold (in his opinion). As a Lord of exquisite taste in art and all beautiful things, he makes it his business to turn your eyes into a passionate subject of admiration.

“Your eyes are as captivating as a starlit night,” he would whisper one night while stargazing. “I have never seen anything like them, for I do not know if you should share them with the world or be selfish and share them with only me.”

He can’t figure out which eye he should focus on as you speak because both are equally captivating, it’s impossible to pick one, so you’re stuck with his tropical bird dance. At least he has impressed you, so it worked in some ways.

Like the others, he easily finds himself under hypnosis the minute to flash him a sweet expression whilst using your eyes to do most of the work. Whatever you want, just say the word and Egalmoth will get it for you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Thingol

“You must be a Maia or Vala, for no ordinary person can possess such beauty all at the same time.” Smooth words to greet you with upon your first meeting, and it did work. Thingol feels as though you have cast a spell and placed him under it upon first sight.

It’s impossible to deny you whatever you want when you bat those pretty lashes and flash him puppy eyes to have your way. You’ve found his weakness, and he isn’t ashamed to say that he enjoys it.

Praises unlike any other and worships the ground you walk on, ensuring that you don’t ever feel ostracised. He wants you to understand that your uniqueness should be cherished and understood.

Like the others, he believes that there must be something extraordinary about you, hence the reason you possess those eyes. It’s as if they enhance a special ability of yours (yeah, getting spoilt).

To him, beyond all the weakness they make him feel, they also bring about a sense of tranquillity, similar to the forest of Doriath. He seldom finds himself strolling throughout the forest, deep in thoughts about you.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Beleg

The moment he met you, he almost fell to his knees, believing that you were some deity come to bless or speak with him. Turned out even better, you were sent to be with him, and he is thankful each and every day.

He claims that whenever he looks into your eye, he sees the forest and suddenly calmness washes over him. It’s as though you bring to forest with you, wherever you go, and Beleg is eternally grateful your gift.

Doesn’t like to disagree with you, so even if you were to agree, those eyes were enough to end the dispute. He crumbles so easily while clinging to you and pouting about not liking the look your beautiful eyes are giving him.

You’ll be speaking to him, and his eyes are just like ←↑→↓ because he doesn’t know which one to focus on. He finds it difficult to focus on one eye when both deserves equal attention at the same time, yet with all the hunter skills he has, he can barely focus on both.

He believes that with eyes like yours, you probably see the world differently, hence why he enjoys listening to your stories of adventures. There is a level of privilege he feels when he is told off the world through your eyes.

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

˖ ࣪ .You Don’t Give Them Attention (They Get Jealous)˖ ࣪ .

Headcanon: Curufin, Amrod, Galdor, Beleg, Gwindor

A/N: Just giant needy puppies who can’t go five seconds without your attention. Not that we don’t mind. Enjoy!!

︶꒦꒷Curufin꒷꒦︶

Strolling into the room with his usual confidence and composure, his steps faltered slightly when he noticed you curled up on the couch, entirely absorbed in a book. You don’t even glance up as he enters, too engrossed in the story to notice his presence. Curufin stood there for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing as he took in the scene—the book, the pile of plush animals surrounding you, and the contented purring of your pet nestled against your side.

With a sharp clearing of his throat, expecting you to at least acknowledge him, you only hummed in response, prompting his lips form a slight pout. Not one to be ignored, Curufin walked over and deliberately sat beside you, close enough that his leg pressed against yours. Still, you didn’t look up.

“Is that book more interesting than me, melda?” he asked his tone light but with an edge of playful jealousy.

You glanced at him, offering a smile of acknowledgement before returning to your book. And Curufin’s eyes narrowed further as he watched you, clearly not satisfied with the lack of attention. With a huff, he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest in an exaggerated display of annoyance.

“So you’re going to ignore me?” After a few minutes, he sighs dramatically. “I see how it is. I’ve been replaced by a book, a collection of stuffed animals, and a cat.” He makes a show of turning away from you, his lips still pursed in a mock pout.

Amused by his antics, you finally set the book down, turning to him with a smile. “Oh, don’t be such a sore baby,” you teased and pulled him close. With ease, you watched his pout dissolved into a satisfied smirk as you cuddled against him, your attention now fully on him.

“Much better,” he murmured, kissing your temple as he relaxed into your embrace.

︶꒦꒷Amrod꒷꒦︶

The moment he walked into the room, his heart which was set on spending some time with you, sank. His playful smile, ready to tease you or suggest a fun activity, shifted when he spotted you sitting on the floor with your pet, brushing its fur with gentle, loving strokes. A few of your stuffed animals were scattered around, while you were humming softly, clearly in your own little world.

He stopped dead in his tracks, his smile fading into a pout as he realised that your attention was wholly occupied. Shifting from foot to foot, he waited for you to notice him, but you were too focused on your pet to look up.

“Focused on the dog, are we?” Amrod says, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was a definite note of jealousy in his voice. You glanced up with a bright smile, but before you can respond, your pet nuzzled you, and your attention was immediately drawn back to it.

Not one to miss out on the opportunity to be dramatic, he flopped down onto the couch with a theatrical sigh. “So this is the way that it is now,” he muttered, crossing his arms and looking away. “Replaced by a pet and stuffed animals. And here I thought I was your favourite. Guess I’ll just disappear far, far away…”

You couldn’t resist a giggle at his pouting, setting your pet aside and crawling over to him. “You’ll always be my favourite,” you assured him, snuggling up against his side.

Easily, his pout softened into a grin as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “Good,” he murmured, resting his head against yours. “Because I wasn’t planning on sharing you with anyone—not even your fluffy friends.”

︶꒦꒷Galdor꒷꒦︶

Galdor had spent the better part of the day trying to catch your attention, but you were completely absorbed in your new project—a delicate tapestry you were weaving with intricate elven patterns. The colours danced across the fabric under your skilled hands, and you were so engrossed in your work that you hardly noticed when Galdor entered the room.

At first, he watched you in silence, admiring the way your brow furrowed in concentration, the way your fingers moved so deftly over the loom. But as the hours passed, Galdor couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. He was used to having your attention, to hearing your laugh and seeing your smile directed at him. Now, all of that was being lavished on a piece of cloth.

“Am I to be replaced by a tapestry?” Galdor finally asked, his voice carrying a playful lilt but with an underlying pout. You looked up, surprised to find him standing there, his arms crossed and a slight frown on his handsome face.

“Galdor, I didn’t see you come in,” you said, laughing softly as you set your work aside. But Galdor wasn’t satisfied with just a smile. He moved closer, wrapping his arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“You’ve been ignoring me all day,” he murmured, a touch of exaggeration in his voice. “I’m starting to think you love that tapestry more than me.”

You turned in his arms, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Never,” you assured him, laughing as you saw the corners of his lips finally curve into a smile. “But you’re much more distracting than a tapestry, that I’ll have no choice but to continue ignoring you to finish it up.”

Without missing a single beat, he whined, “Absolutely not.”

︶꒦꒷Beleg꒷꒦︶

Patiently waiting for you to finish your latest project—a beautifully carved wooden figure of an animal native to Beleriand—Beleg sat still and silent. Your hands moved with precision and focus, every stroke of the knife revealing the shape beneath the wood. Beleg admired your skill, but as the hours dragged on and your attention remained entirely on the carving, he started to feel a little neglected.

He tried to distract himself, sharpening his arrows, organizing his gear and making conversation, which failed as it resulted in you ignoring him halfway through it. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore as he wandered over to where you were sitting, casually leaning against the table, his arms folded.

“Do you plan on spending the entire day with that piece of wood?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant but failing to hide the slight pout in his voice. You looked up, surprised to find him so close, and grinned.

“It’s almost done,” you replied, not noticing the way his shoulders slumped and his lips quivered slightly at your response. Beleg sighed dramatically, moving to sit beside you, his presence warm and comforting.

“Perhaps I should start carving something too,” he mused aloud, “though I doubt it would keep me as entertained as yours has kept you.”

You finally set the carving aside and turned to face him, realising just how much you’d been absorbed in your work. “Beleg, are you jealous of a block of wood?” you teased, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his face.

Beleg gave you a lopsided grin, his earlier pout forgotten. “Only when it steals you away from me,” he admitted softly. You laughed, leaning in to kiss his cheek, and Beleg’s smile widened. “I suppose I can forgive you, this time.”

“You’re such a jealous, big baby, Beleg.”

“Hey! I have all the right to be!”

︶꒦꒷Gwindor꒷꒦︶

Gwindor had always been a patient elf, but today, that patience was wearing thin. You had been spending the better part of the afternoon in the garden, tending to your beloved plants with a devotion that left little room for anything—or anyone—else.

At first, Gwindor had simply watched you from a distance, admiring the way the sunlight caught in your hair and the gentle way you handled each leaf and blossom. He knew how much you loved your plants, and normally, he found it endearing. But today, he couldn’t help but feel a bit left out.

You were crouched down, carefully pruning a particularly stubborn shrub, when you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn around, a soft voice broke the silence.

“Are the plants truly so fascinating?” Gwindor asked, his tone laced with a hint of playful reproach.

You glanced over your shoulder to see him standing there, arms crossed, his usually bright eyes now clouded with something akin to a pout. It was rare to see Gwindor in such a mood, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

“They are,” you replied teasingly, turning back to your work. “They require a lot of attention.”

“And what of me?” he pressed, stepping closer. “Do I not require attention as well?”

You could hear the slight pout in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. Setting down your shears, you finally turned to face him fully. He was so close now that you could see the soft furrow in his brow and the slight downturn of his lips.

“You’re jealous of the plants?” you asked, barely suppressing a giggle.

Gwindor didn’t answer immediately, instead dropping his gaze to the ground. “Perhaps,” he muttered, looking more like a scolded child than the proud warrior you knew him to be.

Unable to resist any longer, you reached out and gently cupped his cheek, drawing his gaze back to yours. “You have nothing to worry about,” you whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “You’ll always have my attention.”

Gwindor’s pout melted away, replaced by a warm, contented smile. “Good,” he murmured, pulling you into a gentle embrace. “Because I thought I had to perform a circus of tricks to get your attention.”

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

˚₊‧꒰აWhen You Dodge Their Kisses໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Headcanon: Amras, Argon, Aegnor, Rog, Thingol

˚₊‧꒰ა Amras ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Amras had been in high spirits that afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow over the gardens of Himlad. You were lounging on a plush bench beneath the shade of an ancient oak, enjoying the serenity of the moment. He had taken a seat beside you, his usual serious demeanour softened by a playful glint in his green eyes.

As the conversation meandered from topics of hunting to lighthearted banter, Amras leaned in, his lips curved into a teasing smile, clearly intent on stealing a kiss. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned slightly away just as he approached. His lips met the air where your cheek had been moments before.

Amras raised an eyebrow, pretending to be oblivious as he leaned in again, this time aiming for the other cheek. You giggled and tilted your head, dodging his kiss once more, leading him to pout dramatically. “So you want to play a game now?” he asked, his voice a playful tease.

You continued to evade his attempts, each dodge accompanied by a burst of laughter from you. Amras’s initial amusement gave way to a charming pout, his lower lip jutting out as he tried to hide his disappointment behind a mask of feigned seriousness. “When I catch you, you’ll be sorry, arimelda,” he said, his voice tinged with playful frustration.

However, he came to regret those words when you dragged out his attempts for much longer than he anticipated. The sounds of his grumbling and mutterings were far too loud, only fuelling you to frustrate him further by dancing out of his grasp and sticking your tongue out at him. “Ready to give up, or you’re not that much of a sore loser?”

“You may regret those words when I get my hands on you, love,” he exhaled before missing the opportunity to grab your arm. “I want my kiss, so you best come here.”

Fortunately, after a few more failed attempts and your laughter echoing in the garden, you relented—feeling rather pitiful for him—and leaned in, letting him plant a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek. So easily did his pout melt into a satisfied smile, his eyes twinkling with affection. “There,” he said, his voice soft and content. “Caught you. I win.”

“Because I let you, otherwise you were going to cry,” you teased.

˚₊‧꒰ა Argon ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

The day in Tirion was crisp and clear, with the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves as you and Argon strolled along a quiet path. His conversation was animated, full of stories from his recent scouting trips, but his eyes kept darting to you with an unmistakable glimmer of mischief.

As Argon spoke, he leaned in, his lips poised for a kiss. You, with a grin playing on your lips, deftly leaned away, causing his kiss to miss its mark. His expression shifted from playful to a feigned look of hurt. “Are you challenging me?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with playful challenge.

Undeterred, Argon tried again, this time attempting to catch you off guard by leaning in from the other side. You shifted subtly, avoiding his kiss once more, and he let out a dramatic sigh. “Hey, quit being difficult,” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and mock frustration.

Each time he leaned in, you managed to dodge, and Argon’s pout grew more pronounced. His usually confident demeanour softened as he pretended to be hurt by your playful rejection. “Hold still for a moment,” he said, his voice dropping to a mock-serious tone. “Or I’ll bite you alongside all those kisses.”

“Oh, what a dreadful threat,” you mocked with your hands to your face. “I feel terror in my bones.”

“Don’t,” he strained as he missed you by an inch and nearly crashed into the bird’s fountain, “tempt me, you little rascal.”

Finally, with one last playful dodge, you relented after feeling sorry for his out of breath status, allowing him to catch you in a sweet, tender kiss. His pout immediately transformed into a radiant smile, and he pulled you into a warm embrace. “See! That wasn’t so very hard you little cretin,” he murmured, his voice filled with genuine affection. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close to prevent you from running off if you had any more bright ideas.

“Only because you looked like you were out of breath.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Aegnor ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Aegnor’s sea-green eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips curving into that charming smile that always made your heart skip a beat. But just as he was about to close the distance, you turned your head to the side, pretending to admire the landscape of Dorthonion. Blinking, momentarily taken aback, he chuckled softly.

“Admiring the view, are we?” he teased, his voice low and melodic, but you kept your gaze on the trees, feigning innocence.

He tried again, leaning in with a bit more determination, but you stepped away, pretending to adjust your hair. Aegnor’s smile faltered, and a small pout formed on his lips. He wasn’t used to being dodged like this, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind as he tried to figure out what you were up to.

For the third attempt, Aegnor placed a gentle hand on your waist, drawing you closer. “Now, where were we?” he murmured, his voice carrying a playful edge. But just as he leaned in, you suddenly found something fascinating on the ground—a very interesting leaf that needed immediate inspection.

Aegnor groaned softly, his pout deepening. “Are you doing this on purpose?” he asked, sounding adorably exasperated. His brows furrowed, and he crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit like a sulking child.

You finally turned to face him, barely suppressing your laughter as you took in his pouty expression. "Whatever do you mean?" you asked, your voice full of feigned innocence.

He narrowed his eyes at you, clearly not buying your act. “You’re too clever for your own good,” he muttered, but his lips twitched, unable to stay serious for long.

Before he could protest further, you reached up and cupped his face, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Aegnor’s eyes fluttered shut, and when you pulled back, his pout had completely disappeared, replaced by a look of pure contentment.

“You’re so annoying,” he murmured against your lips, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. But there was no real frustration in his voice, just a warm affection that made your heart melt.

“Only for you,” you whispered, smiling up at him. Aegnor grinned, his earlier sulkiness forgotten as he kissed you again, this time with no interruptions.

˚₊‧꒰ა Rog ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Rog, ever the patient one, had tried to kiss you at least three times that day, each time met with you deftly dodging his advances. The first time, you’d leaned back just as his lips were about to brush against yours, claiming you needed to stretch. The second time, you’d suddenly turned your head, pretending to notice something interesting in the distance. By the third attempt, Rog was beginning to catch on.

He leaned in again, slowly, as if giving you time to prepare for the kiss. But just as his lips were about to meet yours, you moved away, this time bending down to tie your already perfectly tied shoe. When you glanced up, Rog’s expression was a mixture of confusion and the slightest hint of a pout.

“Is there something more interesting than me?” he asked, his deep voice tinged with mock seriousness. He wasn’t one to get easily flustered, but there was a glint of playful challenge in his eyes.

You stood up, shrugging nonchalantly. “What you’re talking about?" you innocently pouted, biting back a grin as you avoided his gaze once more.

Rog huffed softly, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his pout becoming more pronounced. “You’re avoiding me,” he accused, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his amusement.

You laughed lightly, pretending to be offended. “Me?! Avoid you? Never!”

He stepped closer, towering over you, and leaned in again, this time with a determined look. “Let’s try this one more time then,” he said, his voice a low rumble. But as he closed the distance, you quickly turned your head, causing him to kiss the air. Rog groaned, throwing his hands up in playful defeat.

“Alright, I surrender,” he grumbled, though there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He sat down on a nearby bench, looking up at you with the most exaggerated, adorable pout you’d ever seen.

Your heart melted at the sight of this usually stoic warrior looking so adorably disgruntled. Finally, deciding you’d teased him enough, you walked over and sat beside him, gently taking his face in your hands. “Okay, okay, no more teasing,” you said softly before leaning in and kissing him tenderly.

Rog let out a soft sigh of contentment, his hands coming up to rest on your waist as he deepened the kiss, savoring the moment. When you finally pulled away, he smiled at you, all traces of his pout gone.

“You know, you’re lucky you’re so charming,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

˚₊‧꒰ა Thingol ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

You had been seated beside Thingol, engrossed in a discussion about the latest festival preparations. His silver hair shimmered in the golden light, and his deep eyes were fixed on you with an affectionate gleam. With a gentle smile, Thingol leaned in, clearly intent on stealing a kiss.

A soft huff of frustration escaped him as he straightened up, his usually regal demeanour slipping as he pouted, just a little. You bit back a smile, enjoying how this mighty King of the Sindar, tall and majestic, could look so endearing when denied something as simple as a kiss.

“Have I done something, beloved?” he asked, his deep voice laced with playful suspicion. There was a twinkle of mischief in your eyes, but you shook your head innocently.

“I don’t know. Did you do something wrong?” you replied, keeping the twinkling of mischief brilliant in your eyes as you glanced up at him.

Thingol narrowed his eyes slightly, clearly unconvinced, but his pout deepened when you didn’t immediately lean in to kiss him back. He was starting to look more like an annoyed child than a dignified king, and it was impossible not to find it utterly charming.

He tried once more, this time determined to catch you off guard. He leaned in quickly, but you dodged him again, your laughter bubbling up at his exasperated sigh. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking every bit the sulking ruler who wasn’t getting his way. A little bit again, he stomped his feet.

With a soft smile, as you suppressed your laughter, you leaned closer to him, craning your neck to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Immediately, Thingol’s pout vanished, replaced by a pleased, almost smug expression as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you close.

“Now you’re the one who’s out here doing wrong things. You’re being cruel,” he murmured, his voice tinged with playful reproach. His eyes, however, betrayed the fondness he held for you, even as you continued to tease him.

Falling into a wheeze, you tossed your head backwards at his mini tantrum. “You look as though you’re about to cry about it?”

“What if I did?”

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” he whispered against your lips, but the affection in his voice was undeniable. You laughed softly, resting your head against his chest as he finally got the kiss he had been so eagerly seeking.

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

「 ✦˖ ࣪ .♡˚.Princess Treatment˚.♡˖ ࣪ .✦ 」

Headcanon: Curufin, Amras, Turgon, Finafin, Aegnor, Galdor, Rog, Beleg

A/N: I know I had another set of headcanons to post, but those weren’t working out, so I decided to give a second part to the Princess Treatment headcanons I did last year for the same event with other characters.

.𑁍༊˚ Curufin

Curufin’s princess treatment manifests in his attentiveness to your needs, even before you realise them yourself. Whether it's draping his cloak over your shoulders before a chill can touch you or preparing your favorite tea after a long day, he anticipates your desires effortlessly.

As a master craftsman, Curufin creates intricate jewelry for you, each piece personalised and imbued with a story or meaning. His gifts are never random—they reflect moments shared between you two, aspects of your personality that he admires, or even a subtle statement that says “mine”.

When walking together, Curufin is always at your side, guiding you with a firm but gentle hand at the small of your back. He loves the feeling of being your protector and companion, and will silently ensure you’re always safe and comfortable.

If you show the slightest interest in something, whether it be a new skill or hobby, Curufin will subtly arrange for the best teachers or resources to be at your disposal. He takes immense pride in seeing you excel, your happiness fueling his own.

Curufin’s affection is shown through action rather than words, but in private moments, he’ll take your hand and press a kiss to each fingertip, murmuring how much he cherishes you.

.𑁍༊˚ Amras

He loves surprising you with impromptu picnics in secluded forest clearings, where he’s already laid out your favorite treats and brought along a cosy blanket for you both to share.

He’s always thinking of little ways to make your life easier or more enjoyable, whether it's braiding your hair for you in intricate designs or bringing you wildflowers that he tucks behind your ear with a grin.

During your outdoor adventures, Amras takes it upon himself to carry anything you might need, from your extra cloak to your favourite book. He insists that you just enjoy the journey while he handles the rest, finding joy in making sure you’re carefree.

Amras is also fond of crafting little trinkets for you, often made from materials he’s found during your travels together. You’ll receive necklaces of woven grass, rings made of polished stone, and other small tokens that remind you of your shared adventures.

He has a playful side and loves to whisk you away for secret rendezvous under the stars, where he’ll dance with you to the music of the night, his laughter and joy infectious as he spins you around.

.𑁍༊˚ Turgon

Turgon is the epitome of a chivalrous King when it comes to giving you the princess treatment. From the moment you enter a room, his attention is solely on you, making sure every detail of your surroundings is perfect for your comfort and pleasure.

He loves to plan elaborate dates, whether it’s a moonlit stroll through the gardens of Gondolin or a private concert by the city’s finest musicians. Turgon spares no expense in making you feel like royalty, both in private and in public.

You’ll never need to lift a finger in his presence. Turgon insists on serving you himself, whether it’s pouring your wine or cutting your food, all done with a gentle smile and a look that says you’re the most important person in his world.

When you’re feeling down, Turgon will wrap you in the softest blankets and read your favorite books aloud, his deep voice soothing and comforting. He has a talent for making even the most mundane moments feel special and intimate.

His favorite way to express his love is through grand gestures—like commissioning a beautiful mural in the city, depicting a scene of the two of you. He loves to show the world how much you mean to him, and nothing is too extravagant.

.𑁍༊˚ Finarfin

Finarfin treats you with a blend of elegance and heartfelt gestures. He delights in hosting intimate dinners for you, where he meticulously plans every detail—from the finest dishes to the perfect candlelight. He ensures each meal is a celebration of your time together.

He’s deeply attuned to your preferences and often surprises you with carefully chosen gifts, such as a rare book, a delicate piece of jewelry, or a beautiful fabric that you’ve admired. Each gift is accompanied by a personal note expressing his affection.

Finarfin enjoys creating serene moments for you both. Whether it’s arranging a private viewing of a stunning sunset or organizing a quiet afternoon in a secluded garden, he always finds ways to make these experiences feel special and memorable.

When you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed, Finarfin will create a relaxing atmosphere, complete with soft music and aromatic oils. He’ll gently rub your shoulders or brush your hair, his touch soothing and attentive, ensuring you feel cherished and at ease.

He’s also fond of planning surprise getaways to picturesque locations. Whether it’s a cosy cabin by a lake or a charming village, he’ll organise everything with precision, ensuring you both enjoy a refreshing and delightful escape from everyday life.

.𑁍༊˚ Aegnor

He’s fiercely protective and will often accompany you on walks or errands, his presence a silent but powerful reassurance. If anyone dares to speak ill of you, they’ll quickly find themselves on the receiving end of his cold wrath.

One thing Aegnor never misses is an opportunity to reenact all the romantic scenes from plays with you. Whether it’s dancing under the stars or in the ballroom, whispering your name sweetly while holding eye contact, or even chasing you through a field of flowers.

Aegnor enjoys sharing you with the world and letting everyone know that you’re his and he’s yours, so expect commissions of pieces of jewellery that showcase his love for you. A promise ring, a locket with his favourite words engraved, a bracelet with the two as the pendant, and dozens of love letters.

He’s a lover for public displays of affection. He’ll hold you close, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and cheeks, lips, hands, every oart of your body he could kiss and whisper cheesy words. His touch reverent and tender as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

Flowers upon every meeting and an arm out for you to cross puddles. Holding doors open, pulling out your chair, fixing your hair and clothes, wiping your lips after you’ve eaten and so many more. You can bet the romantic puppy would be down for doing all that and more.

.𑁍༊˚ Rog

Rog’s princess treatment is all about making sure you feel secure and adored. As a formidable warrior, he’s always looking out for your safety, and you can count on him to be at your side, whether you’re walking through the bustling streets of Gondolin or relaxing at home.

He loves to carry you, especially when you least expect it. Whether it’s sweeping you off your feet to avoid a puddle or lifting you onto his shoulders for a better view, if it makes you happy, it makes him happy. Not to forget, he makes time to also be your teddy bear.

Rog is also a craftsman, and he often creates beautiful, practical items for you. Whether it’s a sturdy pair of boots tailored to your feet or a custom weapon if you’re inclined towards combat, everything he makes is infused with his care and attention to detail.

Despite his warrior’s exterior, Rog has a gentle heart. He’ll often gather flowers for you during his travels and present them with a shy smile, brushing a tender kiss against your knuckles as he does so.

Rog is very tactile in his affection, always finding reasons to touch you—whether it’s holding your hand, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, or wrapping an arm around your waist. He thrives on these small connections, each one a silent declaration of his love.

.𑁍༊˚ Galdor

Galdor’s treatment revolves around pampering you in the most thoughtful ways. He’ll often draw you luxurious baths filled with fragrant herbs and flower petals, making sure everything is perfect before leaving you to relax in solitude.

He has a knack for finding the perfect gifts—whether it’s a book you’ve been wanting, a rare plant, or a piece of art that reminds him of you. Each gift is accompanied by a sweet note, handwritten and filled with his deepest affections.

Galdor enjoys taking you on serene walks through beautiful gardens, where he’ll pick the most exquisite flowers to weave into your hair. He takes great care in making sure you feel adored and beautiful, often complimenting you in the softest of tones.

He’s very attentive to your comfort, often adjusting pillows or bringing you extra blankets without you even needing to ask. If you’re working or reading, Galdor will quietly bring you snacks or a cup of tea, ensuring you have everything you need to stay relaxed and content.

In quieter moments, Galdor loves to play music for you, whether on a harp or flute. He’ll serenade you with soft melodies that soothe your soul, his music a tender expression of his love and devotion.

.𑁍༊˚ Beleg

Being rooted in nature and simplicity, he loves to take you on long walks through the woods, where he’ll point out different plants and animals, making sure you feel connected to the world around you while also feeling special in his presence.

He’s always crafting small gifts for you out of natural materials, like a crown of leaves or a bracelet made from braided vines. Each item is created with care and presented to you with a warm smile, his way of showing how much he cherishes your bond.

Beleg is a skilled archer, and he’ll often set up friendly competitions where the prize is always a sweet kiss or a ton of sweet kisses. He loves seeing your eyes light up with excitement, and his laughter is the most rewarding sound when you best him in a challenge.

He enjoys setting up intimate campfires where you can both sit close, sharing stories and toasting beer or wine under the stars. Beleg will wrap you in his cloak, not because you need protection, but because he wants you to feel his warmth and presence.

When it’s just the two of you, Beleg will take the time to braid your hair, his fingers working with gentle precision. He finds peace in these quiet moments, and it’s his way of showing you how much he treasures every second spent together.

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

˖ ࣪ .Giving Them The Silent Treatment˖ ࣪ .

Headcanon: Amras, Argon, Angrod, Egalmoth, Gil Galad

Synopsis: In which they attempt to end the silent torture via their skillful methods.

˚₊‧꒰ა Amras — 𝑯𝒆'𝒔 𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕, 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔. 𝑯𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒅𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒕𝒚𝒑𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐.

Amras walked softly into the room, glancing at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. The silence between you was heavy, each of his attempts to break it met with your determined silence. “Are you still angry with me?” he asked gently, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You turned away, unable to meet his eyes, leading to him approaching, and sitting down beside you on the bed. The warmth of his presence was comforting, even though you still refused to speak.

“I know I’ve made mistakes,” he continued, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “But I want to make it right. Please, let me try.”

Reaching into his pocket, he produced a small, delicate flower, its petals a soft shade of blue. With a smile, he tucked it behind your ear, his fingers brushing your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart flutter. “You know,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity, “this flower reminds me of how I feel about you. It’s rare and beautiful, just like you.”

His eyes met yours, filled with an earnest hope. There was softness in his gaze and sincerity in his voice as they broke through your stubbornness. Turning to him, your eyes reflected a mixture of frustration and affection.

“Why do you have to be so charming?” you finally spoke, your voice softening.

Amras’s face broke into a relieved, affectionate smile. “Because I’m in love with you,” he said, leaning closer. “And I’d do anything to see you smile again.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, feeling the warmth of his love melting away your stubbornness.

˚₊‧꒰ა Argon — 𝑨𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕, 𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒋𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐, 𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔. 𝑾𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒎 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒎.

His usually bright and cheerful demeanour dimmed with each moment of your silence. “Are you really not going to talk to me?” he asked, his voice tinged with desperation. You on the other hand, remained silent, your eyes focused on anything but him.

He pouted, his lips forming a perfect, sorrowful curve. “You know I hate it when you do this,” he whined, but you stood firm, arms crossed.

Trying everything he could think of to get your attention, he started by bringing you your favourite flowers and holding them out with an apologetic smile. And when you didn’t respond, he’d place them gently on the table next to you, hoping their fragrance would soften your irritation.

“Please, just talk to me,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whisper while you remained silent with your aching heart.

Next, he tried to make you laugh, performing exaggerated antics and telling jokes that usually had you in stitches. But today, you didn’t even crack a smile, urging his frustration to grow as he huffed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.

Finally, he resorted to his last tactic: sheer stubbornness. He followed you around, a constant presence, or rather, a pest, at your side, refusing to leave you alone. “I’ll stay right here until you talk to me,” he declared, his tone both petulant and determined.

You sighed inwardly. His persistence was endearing, and you knew you couldn’t hold out forever. With a soft smile, you turned to him and said, “You’re more annoying than you give yourself credit. You do know that?”

His face lit up with relief and joy. “Ah, you had finally spoken! I’m sorry,” he said quickly, wrapping his arms around you. “I promise I’ll do better. Just please, don’t ever stop talking to me again.”

“Fine then, I won’t ignore you,” you whispered. “However, because I’m still upset, no cuddling for a while.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Angrod — 𝑷𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒚. 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕, 𝒐𝒓, 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒍 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏. 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔, 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒔𝒐 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎.

The silence between you and Angrod had stretched for days. You sat in the common room of your shared quarters, reading a book while deliberately ignoring his attempts to bridge the gap. Each time he approached, you responded with nothing more than a silent nod or a hum, your eyes never leaving the pages.

Angrod tried to mask his frustration, though his usual easygoing demeanour was slipping. He’d attempt small talk, casually asking about your day or mentioning something interesting he’d learned, but your responses remained minimal. It was clear he was struggling to decipher what had gone wrong.

But it wasn’t until you started sleeping on the sofa, leaving Angrod to his solitude in the bed, that the full weight of your silent treatment hit him. The normally calm and composed elf began to crumble. He’d mutter to himself as he walked through the room, bumping into furniture and huffing with annoyance like an insane person.

When you finally noticed him pacing and mumbling, it was clear that the silence, while intended to make him reflect, was also gnawing at him more than you’d anticipated.

Hence why the next morning, you woke to find Angrod asleep on the sofa beside you, his face creased with worry and exhaustion, making him appear like a wrinkly old man.

“Hey,” you said, your voice warmer than intended. Angrod blinked open his eyes, seeing you with a mixture of relief and lingering frustration.

“Are you finally tal—Yes, my love,” he answered, quickly, recollecting himself and rubbing his eyes to fully wake up before he said something out of turn.

You nodded, your heart softening as you took his hand. “Yes, I’m finally awake and ready to talk, but let’s have breakfast first. You’re cooking though, so don’t burn anything.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Egalmoth — 𝑻𝒘𝒐 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐, 𝒆𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏. 𝑯𝒆 𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒂𝒚. 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒐 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎.

Egalmoth paced the length of the garden, his usual composed demeanour replaced by visible frustration. You sat on a stone bench, steadfastly ignoring him, your gaze fixed on the blooming roses. It had been three days since you’d last spoken to him, and he was growing increasingly desperate.

“Will you please talk to me, my love,” he said, his voice a mix of irritation and pleading. “The silence is too loud.”

Giving no indication that you heard him, maintaining your silence, Egalmoth sighed heavily, rubbing his temples. “I’d rather you punish me any other way than this silent treatment,” he muttered under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

His words hung in the air, but you remained calm which caused him to huff in frustration and storm off, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Minutes later, the sound of a clatter reached your ears, and you glanced over to see Egalmoth sprawled on the ground with a nearby ladder and several fallen books scattered around him.

“Curse this clumsiness,” he groaned, holding his ankle. Your heart clenched, but you forced yourself to remain seated.

Egalmoth’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain—not just from his injury, but from your silence. He had gone out of his way to create a situation where you had no choice but to speak with him, even if it meant injuring himself.

You stood up, your stubbornness wavering. As you approached, he winced, clearly in discomfort. “Are you alright?” you finally asked, unable to maintain your silent treatment any longer.

Relief washed over his face despite his pain. “I will be, now that you’re talking to me,” he said, his voice softer. “I’ve missed your voice more than you know.”

You sighed, kneeling beside him to assess his injury. “You’re impossible,” you murmured, but there was no anger in your tone—only a reluctant affection.

Egalmoth smiled, reaching out to gently touch your hand. “And you’re everything to me,” he replied, his eyes filled with love. “Never leave me in silence again.”

You nodded, helping him to his feet. “Just don’t hurt yourself next time,” you said, your voice laced with a mixture of exasperation and fondness.

“I’ll try,” he promised, leaning on you for support. “But only if you promise to talk to me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, shaking your head. “Deal.”

˚₊‧꒰ა Gil Galad — 𝑴𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆, 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓, 𝒊𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈, 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒅𝒅 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒍𝒂𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒆'𝒍𝒍 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

Gil-galad found you in the garden, the serene beauty of the flowering landscape contrasting with the cold silence you were giving him. For days, you had been distant, offering only curt nods and avoiding eye contact. He respected your space, but it was beginning to wear on him. He approached cautiously, his expression a mix of concern and gentle resolve.

“Is there an limit on words, or have I simply been unlucky in conversation?” he asked, attempting a lighthearted tone. He knelt beside you, his gaze searching your face for any sign of the warmth that once was there.

You remained silent, focused on the vibrant petals of a nearby flower. Gil-galad sighed, sitting down beside you. “If this is some form of punishment, I must say, I’m terribly uninitiated,” he continued, his voice softening. “But I’d very much like to understand what’s troubling you, or at least, share a smile.”

He reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and reassuring. “Tell me what I’ve done wrong. Even a King can be humbled by the silence of someone he holds dear.”

The sincerity in his voice finally broke through, bringing your eyes to meet his, and your vexation melting away gently.

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[doodle-pops]

I’ll Wait For You

Amras x reader

A/N: This was based on the Arranged Marriage headcanons I wrote for the Fëanorians a while ago. Enjoy!

Warnings: arranged marriage AU, anxiety attack (minor), comfort, fluff

Words: 2.3k

Synopsis: With the recent union of your and Amras’s arranged marriage and thrust into the world of rivalry, you and Amras find yourselves in the comfort of each other’s company.

The palace of Tirion was a marvel, its white walls gleaming under the light of Telperion. Every corner of the grand hall was adorned with ornate decorations—garlands of gold and silver, and chandeliers that glittered like the stars themselves. Your new family knew how to display their wealth and power, and tonight’s gathering was no exception. The grandeur of the event was enough to take one’s breath away, but it also made you feel as if you were drowning in an ocean of expectation.

You had anticipated a certain level of formality when you were informed of your arranged marriage to Amras. The news had come swiftly, with little time to prepare, and you had barely caught your breath before you were thrust into the role of his spouse. The marriage itself had been a quiet affair, a ceremony marked by propriety and duty rather than celebration. You had accepted your fate with as much grace as you could muster, but it did little to calm the nerves that now gnawed at your insides.

This evening was your first official appearance as part of the House of Fëanor, and you were unaccustomed to the grandeur, to the sheer volume of people—nobles from every corner of Valinor, all dressed in their finest silks and jewels. Their eyes had been on you from the moment you entered the hall, assessing, judging. You could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on you, and you wondered if they could see how out of place you felt.

Amras had been at your side like a quiet reassurance in the midst of the chaos. He was a man of few words, and his quiet demeanour had been a comfort to you in the whirlwind that had followed your marriage. Yet, despite his calming presence, you could not shake the feeling that you were a stranger in this world of rivalry.

The rivalry was heated, an undercurrent that ran through the gathering like a silent storm. Fëanor and his half-brother Fingolfin had long competed in every aspect of their lives, and now it seemed that even the marriages of their children had become another arena for their contest. Each noble family seemed to be evaluating not just you, but the alliance your marriage represented. It was too much—the grandeur, the scrutiny, the sense that you were nothing more than a piece on a chessboard, moved by forces beyond your control.

As the evening wore on, the noise and the crowd began to overwhelm you. Every smile felt forced, every word strained. The music, once beautiful, now felt like an assault on your senses. Your heart raced in your chest, and the walls of the grand hall seemed to close in around you. You needed to escape, to find a place where you could breathe without feeling the weight of so many eyes on you.

Making your excuses as politely as you could, you slipped away from Amras’s side with a murmured promise to return soon. His reply was a simple nod, though, the slight furrow in his brow questioned your decision, nevertheless he had let you go without question. You wound your way through the throng of people, past the servants carrying trays of food and drink, and finally through a side door that led into one of the many corridors of the palace.

The quiet of the corridor was a welcome relief from the noise of the hall, but it did little to calm the storm that raged inside you. Walking quickly, your footsteps echoing against the marble floors as you sought out a place where you could be alone, where you could gather your thoughts and still your racing heart. And it seemed as the corridors twisted and turned, leading you deeper into the palace, you found yourself at the entrance to the gardens.

The scent of jasmine and roses filled the air, mingling with the cool, crisp scent of the night. A soft breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, and the sound of running water from a nearby fountain provided a soothing backdrop to the otherwise still night. The path before you was lined with stone benches and flowering bushes, their petals glowing softly in the light of the stars above. Briskly you followed the path, your feet carrying you deeper into the garden until you reached a secluded corner where the night-blooming jasmine grew thick and fragrant.

Here, at last, you allowed yourself to breathe as you sank down onto one of the stone benches, your hands trembling as you buried your face in them. The tears you had been holding back all evening spilled over, hot and unwelcome, and you felt a sob catch in your throat. It was all too much—too fast, too overwhelming. You had barely had time to process your new life, and now you were expected to be a part of this grand family, to fit into a world that felt completely alien to you.

You knew that Amras was kind, that he would understand if you told him how you felt. But you didn’t want to burden him with your fears, not when he had his own struggles to contend with. He was a quiet man, often overshadowed by his more outspoken brothers, and you wondered if he felt just as out of place in this grand gathering as you did.

Caught in your whirlwind of emotions, a soft rustle of leaves behind you made you freeze, and you hastily wiped the tears from your cheeks, trying to compose yourself. You turned, expecting to see a servant or perhaps one of Amras’s brothers, but instead, you found yourself looking into the concerned eyes of your husband.

“Amras,” you breathed, your voice shaky as you attempted to stand. You hadn’t heard him approach, hadn’t expected him to follow you.

He didn’t say anything at first, simply watching you with those piercing green eyes of his. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and knelt in front of you, halting your actions, his gaze searching your face for answers.

“Please, no need to stand. Are you all right?” he asked softly, his voice full of concern.

You wanted to lie, to tell him that you were fine, that you just needed a moment to yourself. But the words caught in your throat, and all you could do was shake your head as fresh tears welled up in your eyes.

Immediately, his expression softened, and without a word, he reached out to take your hands in his. His touch was warm, grounding you at the moment, and the gentleness of it made your heartache. “It’s all right,” he said quietly, his voice soothing. “You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over again. “I–I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to run off like that…it’s just…everything is so much, and I don’t know how to—”

Amras squeezed your hands gently, cutting off your words. “I know,” he said softly. “It is overwhelming, isn’t it? This is all so new, and…so much has changed so quickly.”

You nodded, biting your lip as you tried to rein in your emotions. “I don’t belong here. I can't fit in…or never,” you whispered. “I don’t know how to…to be what they expect me to be.”

At your whimpers his eyes softened as he reached out to take your hand in his. His touch was warm and reassuring, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. “You’re not alone in feeling that way,” he admitted. “I’ve lived with my family my entire life, and even I feel out of place sometimes. They can be…a lot.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the honesty in his voice. He was quiet by nature, often overshadowed by his more boisterous brothers, but in this moment, you saw the depth of his understanding and his own struggles.

“It’s just that everything happened so fast,” you continued, your voice trembling. “I barely had time to process the arrangement before we were married, and now…now I’m here, surrounded by all of this, and it’s like I can’t keep up.”

“I feel the same way,” he confessed. “I didn’t expect things to move so quickly either. I thought…I thought we would have more time to get to know each other, to adjust.”

He paused, his gaze searching yours as if trying to find the right words. “I want you to know,” he said slowly, “that I don’t expect anything from you. I don’t want you to feel like you have to be someone you’re not, or that you have to meet anyone’s expectations—least of all my father’s.”

“You don’t truly mean that?” you whispered brokenly.

In response, he offered a genuine smile and a nod of his head. “Oh, but I do.”

You felt a rush of gratitude at his words, and your grip tightened on his hand. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “I—I’m so relieved to hear you say that.” You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and for the first time that evening, you felt like you could breathe. The weight that had been pressing down on you lifted slightly, and you looked at his with newfound gratitude.

Shaking his head, his expression gentle. “Perfection is overrated,” he said softly. “And it’s not what I want from you. I just want us to be able to talk, to get to know each other as we really are—not in feeling out of place. I understand how overwhelming it can be, especially when you’re suddenly thrust into the middle of all this expectation.”

His honesty touched you deeply. You had always admired him for his quiet strength, but hearing him admit his own vulnerabilities made you feel closer to him in a way you hadn’t expected. The idea that you weren’t alone in your feelings, that even someone as composed as Amras could feel out of place, gave you a sense of comfort and camaraderie.

“I’ve always felt like an outsider,” you confessed quietly, turning your gaze to the flowers blooming around you. “Even before all this. I’m not used to being the center of attention, and it feels like I’m constantly under scrutiny now. I’m afraid of making a mistake, of disappointing you or your family.”

While his expression softened, he hesitantly reached out to gently cupped your cheek, turning your face so you could meet his eyes. “You could never disappoint me,” he said with quiet conviction. “And as for my family…they’re a lot to handle, I know. They’re just…well, they’re a passionate lot, and sometimes that passion can be overwhelming. But you don’t have to worry. Take as much time as you need to settle in, I’ll be patient.”

His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped.

For a moment, the two of you sat in comfortable silence, simply holding each other’s gaze. The garden around you seemed to grow even more tranquil, as if the night itself was offering its blessings to your newfound understanding. The gentle rustling of the leaves, the sweet scent of the jasmine, the distant chirp of crickets—it all became a comforting symphony that wrapped around you like a blanket.

As you sat there, you began to notice the little things about Amras that you hadn’t had the chance to before—the way his hair caught the moonlight, the gentle strength in his hands as they held yours, the quiet confidence in his voice that belied his earlier confession of uncertainty. There was a depth to him that you were only just beginning to understand, and it made you want to know more, to explore the facets of the man who had become your husband.

Eventually, Amras broke the silence, his tone lighter as he said, “You know, I was thinking…perhaps we should try to slip out of these gatherings more often. I’m sure my father and uncle would be too busy trying to outdo each other to notice our absence.”

You laughed, the sound bright and genuine, and it felt good to release some of the tension that had been weighing on you all evening. “You’re probably right,” you said, a twinkle in your eyes. “They seem more interested in their competition than in who’s actually present.”

“True,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “and when I was younger, I used to hide out in these gardens whenever family gatherings became too much. My brothers would be off making a spectacle, and I’d sneak away to find some peace.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the image of a young Amras hiding among the flowers, seeking refuge from the chaos of his family. “I suppose it’s no wonder you found me here, then,” you replied, a hint of amusement in your tone.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and genuine. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “The gardens have always been a place of solace for me. It seems fitting that we’d find some peace here together.”

As the night wore on, you and Amras continued to talk, the conversation flowing easily between you. You spoke of small things at first—your favorite places, your hobbies, the things that brought you joy. And in return, Amras opened up about his own struggles, his feelings of being overshadowed by his brothers, his desire to find his own path.

The more you talked, the more you realised how much you had in common. You both longed for a sense of belonging, for a place where you could be yourselves without the weight of expectations.

As the night grew later and the chill in the air deepened, Amras finally stood and extended his hand to you. “Shall we make our farewells?” he asked softly, sensing that you were ready to leave.

“Sure, why not,” you murmured. “I think it’s high time we returned home.”

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[doodle-pops]

˚₊‧꒰ა Little Things You Do That Make Them Smile ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Headcanon: Turgon, Finarfin, Galdor, Rog, Gwindor

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Turgon

“𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔” — If Turgon hadn’t smiled for the day, surely your attempts at reaching his lips for a kiss will. Be it you stood on a table, doubled and tripled the chairs, stacked them on top of a table, or climbed his tall frame, he would have cracked a huge grin at your adorable attempts. The measures you go to ensure he receives a daily dose of affection make his heart swell. At times, he would even purposefully deny bending down just to see what route you would take for your kiss.

“𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒘𝒐 𝒔𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒑” — Leave it to Turgon, and he would sleep in his study, but when he remembers that you’re alone in your shared chambers, he finds himself at your side. However, he forgets your cold feet when he becomes too comfortable holding your body against his. You have a knack for perfectly timing when he relaxes before pressing your feet against his skin. It doesn’t matter how many times he pushes your feet away, they come crawling back. As much as your cold feet drive him up a wall like a cat, without it, his bed feels empty. It’s something he both looks forward to and doesn’t at night.

“𝑼𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒆𝒕” — He knew he wasn’t as spontaneous as the other members of his family and feared that may have been a turn off when it came to courting, but when you entered, you proved him wrong. You were the perfect amount of spontaneity to his tranquillity while understanding and sharing his love for calmness. Whether it’s helping him with his fishes, building/crafting his miniature city together, reading or dancing, Turgon enjoys even moment even more, as he's aware of your appreciation for his love for tranquillity.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Finarfin

“𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒖𝒑 𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒚” — If he could stay all day in bed with you and sleep, he would. Sadly, duty always calls him away, yet, the sound of your whines and feet stomping against the bed leaves his heart yearning. Your long list of reasons why you two should spend all day in bed leaves him in a fit of soft laughter and hearty grins as you complain. Most of them sound reasonable, truly, they do. And if he didn’t know any better than receiving a scolding from his advisor, he'd dive back into bed with you.

“𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒍 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒏” — The soft padding of your feet as you rush over to him, holding a crown of flowers behind your back and one that matched his attire, leaves him filled with excitement to show it off. He proudly wears each one, be it in public or at court, for all to see the wonderful gift you give him each day with a bundle of love. To top it off, he makes it clear to anyone who notices that you made it, so they'd think twice about saying anything.

“𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒇𝒕 𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖” —There’s not a gift Finarfin has not given to you where your reaction hadn’t left him bubbly. Be it your smile, your laughter, your grin or your screams when the gift was received, he can bet the entire Kingdom will be hearing about it, whether you verbally inform them or show it off every chance you get.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Galdor

“𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔” — Galdor felt like he found the perfect companion when he heard you loved plants and gardening just as much as he does. His heart swells when he observes your delicacy towards the plants as well as your knowledge. Inviting you into his gardens to show off his knowledge of plants which leads to him being impressed by your knowledge when you add extra facts. He would quietly smile with his eyes as he listens to you prattle on and on about your favourite flora and those you wish to have. Sometimes it the way you proudly show off his gifts of potted plants around your home, caring for them and going as far as naming them.

“𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅” — If it wasn’t the head tilting, then it’s the adorable away your nose crinkle and scrunch when you’re confused that's making him combust internally. He had to refrain from wanting to hold your face and pepper your nose with kisses and bites. The urge to verbally say “awe” comes to mind and the tip of his tongue whenever you do so.

“𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒐𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒎” — Whether you are a masterchief or not, accompanying him to the kitchen and assisting him is enough to put a smile in his face. His appreciation for the simplicity in life allows for moments like these to be cherished greatly. The loud chopping of vegetables, the soft bubbling of the pot and the clinking of glasses followed by laughter shared between you both as you navigate throughout the kitchen, doing your best to avoid stepping on each other’s feet adds an extra touch of comfort to his life.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Rog

“𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚 𝒖𝒑 𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆𝒅” — Due to Rog’s love for spending long hours in the forge, staying up never went according to plan because 9 out of 10 times, it resulted in you falling asleep and him coming home the late hours of the next day, meeting you sprawled out sleeping. He appreciates your dedication to waiting for him each time he ventures into the forge, he’s touched, but it also worries him when you lose proper rest over him. Hence why he tells you not to stay up too late for him, though his words never reach you well because you insist on ensuring you see him when he comes home. All he can do is shake his head with a tender smile as he adjusts your sleeping position to something much more comfortable.

“𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒇𝒕” — Spending dates indoors, locked up in the forge and watching him slave away behind a piece of metal without complaining makes his craft feel appreciated. At first to him, it didn’t seem like much when he could be taking you on tours around Gondolin and planning other dates, but seeing how divested you were in hearing him talk about his passion made this man want to pop out a ring and propose right on the spot.

“𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒚 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒆𝒅𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒓” — The first time you clung to his muscular form, squeezing his biceps and nibbling on his arms and shoulders, Rog couldn’t quite believe himself. You treated him as though he was a stuffed toy, squeezing him every chance and burying your face into his muscles. It wasn’t until the first time you called him your teddy bear, that he felt his heart growing warmer at the nickname, not believing that such an affectionate term of endearment could leave him a blushing mess. From that day on Rog vowed to always ensure that his muscles were soft and bulky so that he would always be your teddy bear.

𓏲⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 ⋆ Gwindor

“𝑫𝒊𝒔𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒉𝒊𝒎” — When Gwindor discovered that you shared the same passion for nature and exploring caves like him it makes his heart combust. In his mind when it came to courting he had never expected for someone to be into the same hobbies as him. He always viewed himself as a nerd and undesirable, leading to him holding less interest in courting. But then you came along with your enthusiasm sharing the same love for nature as him. Most of your dates if not all are spent exploring the lesser caves and exchanging tidbits of knowledge that you’ve accumulated over time.

“𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕/𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒂𝒌” — Believe it's or not it doesn’t matter if what you’re saying is interesting in your eyes or not Gwindor values every single with that falls from your tongue. You could be talking about your favourite food, your favourite plant, how you rolled off your bed this morning, or the weird dream you had and he would be listening as though you explaining the creation of the sun, moon, and stars. He believes that you have a natural gift for tuning simple topics into interesting conversations with the most intriguing and enthusiastic words ever. This encourages him to spend every minute of the day with you begging you to even read his favourite novels, simply so he could listen to you speak.

“𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒈𝒖𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒔” — In his most honorable moments when you appear and see him in his natural form covered in scars window immediately wishes to pull up and disappear. However, when he feels your touch full of love and pain towards his injury, he breaks down. The raw emotion he feels from your touch that emanates love makes him forget his disgust towards his scars. He always believed that you would hate them, hence why he always remained fully clothed around you at all times. Even though he still carries insecurities towards his injuries feeling your gentle touch against his skin melts some of his worries and fears away.

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

Happy Feet

Beleg x female!reader

A/N: I’ve been unnecessarily having baby fever and Beleg appears to be the perfect person to bear the brunt of my obsession.

Warnings: female reader, fluff, fluff and more fluffiness, Beleg being a dad to twins

Words: 2k

Synopsis: Returning home after a two-week shift at the borders of Doriath, Beleg discovers that he’s officially a father of two.

Soundless footsteps, swift and sure, as he made his way through the familiar woods, the dense canopy overhead dappling his path with patches of light. He had been gone for two long weeks, guarding the borders of the hidden realm, and now he was finally home. The last stretch of his journey felt endless, his heart pounding with anticipation. Eagerly rushing up the porch, he froze before his hand could meet the door knob to greet the beautiful sight of you.

There, frozen, he heard the whispers of your melodic voice waffling through the air like the gentle breeze of the warm spring keeping the winter coldness at bay. It felt like aeons since last he heard your voice, and here he was, after two weeks of being away, floating through the air on the whispers of your voice. Unable to wait another minute he twisted the door knob and burst through the front door.

Nowhere insight you were, yet he remained hopeful of the beautiful sight he would be greeted upon his return. Noting that the house appeared asleep, he smiled to himself, remembering how much you struggled to keep it alive when he wasn’t around. The house was warm, filled with the soft glow of candlelight. The scent of fresh pine and herbs lingered in the air, mingling with a sweeter, more delicate aroma that was new to him. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, removing his boots and his gears, he placed them at the front door and ushered to wash his hands before making his way through the house to your bedroom.

However, it was the sight of you sitting in the centre of the room, cradling your two newborns that made him freeze in his track. You were seated on a low stool with your back to him while humming a gentle melody that seemed to resonate with the very walls. The cradle beside you rocked gently, two tiny bundles nestled inside.

For a moment, Beleg was rooted in place, overwhelmed by the sight. The reality of fatherhood had been a distant thought, overshadowed by his duties at the border. But now, seeing his wife, your children—his children—he felt an intense wave of emotion crash over him. His heart swelled with love, gratitude, and a fierce protectiveness that brought tears to his eyes.

Soft coos and grunts came from the cradle in unison which made his heart swell. Unable to hold back any longer, he crossed the room in swift strides and wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you close. A soft gasp was emitted, before melting into his embrace, your head leaning back against his chest. Beleg immediately buried his face into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent, mixed with the newness of your children.

“Meleth-nîn,” he called out and felt you stirring in his arms to turn around and meet his gaze. There, he was met with the most beautiful smile he had ever received from you. Your eyes were filled with weariness, strands of hair falling into your waxed face and out of your bun, your clothes loose-fitted and hanging off your figure, and yet, you could not have looked any more beautiful than you did in that moment. “I…I’m home. I…”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his tears finally spilling over. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I wanted to be with you…with them.”

Your smile softened as you cupped his face to wipe away his tears. “It’s alright. You’re here now, and that’s what matters, plus, they decided to arrive earlier than we anticipated.”

At your words, his shoulders relaxed and his lower lips quivered slightly as he broke into a teary-eyed smile. “We have two babies,” he cried while adding soft laughter of disbelief, and he rocked you from left to right, looking at you through his teary green eyes. “We made two babies! Not one, but two!”

Nodding along with him as you cupped his face, you leaned in to press a tender kiss to his nose while wiping his tears. “We did.”

“You’re amazing, you know that right?” he whispered as he craned his neck upwards to swiftly kiss you. “You’re so perfect and wonderful, and I’m proud to have you in my life,” he praised before switching to a voice full of concern. “How are you? It must have been difficult…I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Shaking your head with a reassuring smile through the weariness, you replied, “It was difficult, but it’s over now. And I’m all right, truly. I’ve had help from the healers and our friends. They’ve been wonderful.”

Beleg nodded, relieved but still feeling a pang of guilt. He reached for your hand and held it tightly. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick with gratitude. “For bringing them into this world, for being so strong…for everything.”

“It was worth it.”

His gaze drifted to the cradle, where the tiny forms of his son and daughter lay. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight of them—so small, so perfect. Their faces were soft, round, and serene, with tiny fists curled up against their cheeks. His son’s hair was a miniature version of yours, while his daughter’s was a shade similar to his silvery strands, like the softest moonlight. He could see their chests rising and falling with each breath, their delicate eyelashes fluttering as they dreamed.

His heart swelled even more if that were possible, and he released you gently so he could kneel beside the cradle. His fingers trembled as he reached out to touch his son’s cheek, the skin impossibly soft under his calloused hand. The baby stirred slightly at the touch but didn’t wake, only nestling closer to his sister.

Beleg’s breath caught in his throat again, the emotions swirling within him too vast to contain. He swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as he took in every detail of his children’s faces. “I’ve seen many wonders in my time,” he murmured, “but nothing compares to this. To them.”

“May I hold them?” he asked, his voice almost reverent, his heart aching with love for the tiny beings who had suddenly become the centre of his world.

Wordlessly, you smiled and carefully lifted your daughter from the cradle and placing her in his arms.

Beleg’s breath hitched instantly as he cradled his daughter against his chest. She was so small, so fragile, and yet she fit perfectly in his arms, as if she had always belonged there. Her tiny face scrunched up briefly before she settled back into sleep, her little hand curling instinctively around his finger.

“Hello, my little one,” Beleg whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m your father.”

The words felt strange and wondrous on his tongue, and he couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down his cheek. He gently rocked her, his heart overflowing with love. “I’ll always protect you,” he vowed quietly. “You and your brother. I’ll never let anything harm you.”

You watched him with a smile, your own eyes glistening with tears of pure joy. “She looks so much like you,” she said softly. “The same nose, the same serious little expression.”

Beleg chuckled through his tears, his heart light with joy. “I see you in her too. And our son…he has your eyes.”

His wife nodded, her gaze drifting to the cradle where their son still slept peacefully. “He does. He’s already so strong, just like his father.”

Beleg’s heart swelled with pride, and he shifted his daughter carefully in his arms so he could lean over and place a tender kiss on his son’s forehead. The baby stirred at the touch, his tiny lips forming a soft ‘o’ as he blinked open his eyes for the first time since Beleg had arrived. For a moment, father and son simply looked at each other, and Beleg felt an indescribable connection take root in his soul. His baby’s eyes, so bright and full of life, seemed to pierce through to the core of him, filling him with a love so fierce it was almost overwhelming.

“Hello, my little warrior,” Beleg whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “I’m here now. I’ll always be here.”

The baby let out a tiny, contented sigh, and Beleg felt his heart melt completely. He looked up at you, his tears flowing freely now. “I never knew I could feel this much,” he said, voice breaking. “I never knew…”

“I know. It’s overwhelming, isn’t it? But it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world,” you whispered, feeling a wave of sleepiness washing over you sluggishly.

Beleg nodded, his heart so full it felt as though it might burst. He carefully handed his daughter back to his wife so he could pick up his son, cradling him just as gently. The baby nestled against his chest, warm and soft, and Beleg closed his eyes for a moment, simply revelling in the feeling of holding his child for the first time.

The room was quiet, filled only with the sound of their breathing and the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth. Beleg felt a profound sense of peace settle over him, a sense of completeness he had never known before. This was his family, his home, and he knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, he would face them with courage and strength, for them.

He looked down at his son, who was already drifting back to sleep, and then at you who was gently rocking your daughter in her arms. “You’re weary, my love,” he said quietly, his voice filled with all the depth of his emotions. “Get some rest. I’m here now, I’ll look after you all.”

Before you could formulate a response, a yawn ripped past your lips, proving his words to be true. Offering him a sweet, tiring smile, you shuffled over to place your little girl into her cot and kissed your husband his lips, the kiss lingering for an extra moment or two before you pulled away and retreated to bed. All that was left was Beleg and his two new bundle of joys.

As he watched you drag your feet to your bed and topple face-first onto the mattress, not bothering to adjust your position to one more comfortable, he exhaled. This was the next chapter in his life to complete, one that would be forever and determine his future.

And as he held his son close, feeling the steady rhythm of his tiny heartbeat against his chest, and looking at his sleeping daughter, Beleg knew that he would do anything to keep them safe. The weight of his responsibilities as a warrior and protector had always been heavy, but now, with his family in his arms, that weight was balanced by a profound sense of purpose and joy. He would fight, not just for the safety of Doriath, but for the happiness of you and your children.

As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow, Beleg let out a contented sigh. With you off to wonderland, his children safe in his arms, and the soft hum of their breathing filling the room, Beleg allowed himself to close his eyes, finally at peace. His home, his family, his heart—everything he had ever longed for was here in this quiet moment. A moment he wished he could freeze for eternity.

He looked down at his son, who was now fully asleep, his tiny face peaceful and content. Beleg leaned down and kissed his forehead, then did the same for his daughter, his heart swelling with love for them both. “Rest well, my little ones,” he murmured. “Your father is here.”

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

Gentle Steps

Curufin x daughter!reader

A/N: If I had a dollar for the number of times I rewrote this, it wouldn’t be much, but I’d still have a few dollars. I had so many ideas when it came to writing this, I eventually settled on fluff and saved the angst for another time. He needs some soft content.

Warnings: none, fluffiness, toddler reader

Words: 1.1k

Synopsis: Curufin takes a moment to appreciate the joys of being a father from your perspective.

The sunlight filtered softly through the tall trees of your cosy home on the outskirts of Tirion, casting delicate patterns on the ground where you sat. The morning was cool, with a hint of the approaching summer, and the air was filled with the scent of pine and earth. Birds sang merrily in the branches above, their melodies blending with the soft rustling of leaves. You, a small bundle of curiosity and energy, were perched on a patch of soft grass, your tiny hands exploring the world around you.

Curufin watched you from a short distance, his sharp eyes softened with affection. The usually stern and meticulous craftsman was a different man when he was with you, his beloved daughter. It was in these moments, with you nestled in the crook of his arm or toddling at his side, that he allowed himself to slow down, to let go of the weight of his responsibilities, and simply enjoy the simple joy of being a father.

Your mother had been particularly tired this morning, the weariness of long days spent managing the household catching up with her. Curufin, seeing the fatigue in her eyes, had gently insisted that she rest, leaving you in his care. She had smiled, grateful for the respite, and now Curufin found himself alone with you, tasked with the delicate balance of guiding you as you explore the world.

Babbling happily to yourself, your words an endearing mix of sounds and almost words, as you patted the ground with your chubby hands. Your clothes were already dirt-covered, something your father chose to ignore, allowing you the joys of exploration. Crouching down beside you, his long, dark hair fell over his shoulders as he reached out to help you with a particularly stubborn leaf that had caught your attention.

“Look,” he said softly, his deep voice a comforting rumble. “It’s a leaf. It comes from the tree, up there.” He pointed upwards, and you followed his gesture with wide, curious eyes, your mouth forming a small 'o' of wonder.

“Gah!” you exclaimed, your tiny fingers brushing against the leaf’s surface, almost crushing it under you attempts at gentle touching. It crinkled slightly under your touch, and you giggled, delighted by the sound.

Curufin couldn’t help but smile, his stern features softening even more as he watched you. “Yes, it makes a noise,” he said, his tone gentle. “When the wind blows, the leaves dance and sing. Can you hear them?”

Your head tilted to the side, your little ears straining to catch the sounds. Then, a slight breeze rustled the branches above, and the leaves responded with a soft whispering. You couldn’t resist looking up at your father with bright eyes filled with excitement before letting out a happy squeal, clapping your hands together.

Curufin chuckled a deep, warm sound that made your heart leap with joy. He sat down on the grass beside you, his presence both reassuring and grounding. “You’re learning so much,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “The world is vast, and there is so much to discover, my little star.”

You looked up at him as if understanding his words, and crawled closer, your tiny fingers reaching out to grasp his larger hand. He allowed you to hold onto him, your touch so small and innocent that it left a deep swell of love in his chest. At that moment, he realised it was a different kind of crafting—a more delicate, precious work than any he had ever undertaken. Moulding, guiding, and teaching you required patience and gentleness, qualities that did not always come easily to him. But for you, he would try.

“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked softly, standing up and extending his hand to you. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with excitement, and wobbled to your chubby feet with his help. Your steps were unsteady, your balance still developing, but you were determined, your little face scrunched up in concentration.

Curufin kept a careful hold on your hand, walking slowly beside you as you toddled forward. The ground was uneven, with small rocks and twigs scattered about, but he guided you with gentle words and a steady hand, ready to catch you should you stumble. You chattered happily as you walked, your voice a constant stream of babbles and giggles that filled the air with a joyful noise.

As you walked, Curufin pointed out various things in the environment around you—a colourful flower here, a scurrying insect there—naming them in soft tones that made you listen attentively, even if you didn’t fully understand. “This is a daisy,” he said, showing you a small white flower. You bent down, your balance wavering, and he quickly steadied you with his hand. “It’s soft and pretty, just like you.”

As you reached out to touch the flower, your tiny fingers brushing against the petals, you realised they were cool and soft, leading you to giggle and look up at your father with shining eyes. Curufin’s heart melted at the sight, urging him to reach down to pick the daisy and tuck it gently behind your ear. “There, now you look even more beautiful,” he said, his voice filled with warmth.

You babbled in response, your words unintelligible but filled with enthusiasm as you gave him a toothy grin. Curufin laughed softly, the sound deep and full of love. “I’ll take that as a ’thank you,’” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

The two of you continued your walk, your little feet carrying you with more confidence now. Every so often, you would stop to examine something new—a stick, a pebble, a patch of moss—and Curufin would crouch down beside you, his presence a steady anchor in your little world. He spoke to you in calm, soothing tones, explaining the things you saw with patience and care. Even though you couldn’t fully understand him yet, you listened intently, your big eyes wide with wonder.

After a while as you began to tire, your steps growing slower and your babbles quieter, your father noticed immediately. His keen eyes observed the way your little shoulders slumped and your head began to droop. In an instant, he scooped you up into his arms, cradling you against his chest, and you snuggled into him with a contented sigh.

“It’s time to rest,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ve had a busy morning, little Miss Busybody.” You yawned, your tiny mouth opening wide, and your eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed against him, your small body warm and trusting in his arms.

He retreated to the house with steps slow and measured, careful not to jostle you as you drifted off to sleep. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground, and the birds’ songs softened to a lullaby as they sensed the peaceful atmosphere. As he walked, Curufin couldn’t help but reflect on the gentle steps he was taking—not just in guiding you through the physical world, but in nurturing the bond between father and daughter. His upbringing had been one of great expectations and intense pressures, but with you, he was determined to foster a different kind of relationship—one built on patience, understanding, and love.

He had been raised in a house of pride and ambition, had been taught to be strong, to never show weakness. But now as he looked at you, he knew that he would do anything for you, he would protect you with his life, he would teach you everything he knew. He would always strive to be the best father he could be for you.

By the time he reached the house, you were fast asleep, your little face peaceful and serene. Curufin carefully laid you down in your crib, tucking a soft blanket around you and brushing a gentle hand over your hair. You murmured something in your sleep, a soft, contented sound, and he smiled, his heart swelling with love.

He stood there for a moment, watching you sleep, before quietly leaving the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The house was quiet now, the only sound the gentle swinging of a pendulum in the hallway. Curufin made his way to the sitting room, where he found your mother resting on a comfortable chair, a book in her hands.

“She’s asleep,” he said softly, and your mother looked up, a smile spreading across her face.

“Thank you,” she replied, her voice warm with affection. “You’re so good with her, you know.”

Curufin sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. “I’m learning,” he said with a smile. “However, she’s a busybody, so she keeps me on my toes.”

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

「 ✦Discovering You Writing Fanfiction About Them✦ 」

Headcanon: Curufin, Turgon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Beleg, Gwindor

A/N: I had a ball of a time writing this one. Please enjoy the crack and humour I’ve written.

「 ✦Curufin✦ 」

Always curious about the little notebook you kept so closely guarded, and how you manically laughed as you acribbled across the page, Curufin had his mind set on being a little mouse. You had never been secretive, exactly, but you were always quick to close it whenever he walked into the room. So one day, when you were out gathering herbs, Curufin’s curiosity got the better of him. He picked up the notebook, casually flipping through the pages. At first, he was intrigued. Then his eyes widened, and his jaw dropped.

“By the Valar…” he muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from the words on the page. The story depicted him��Curufin the Cunning, the master of craft, the sharp-witted son of Fëanor—as a bumbling, lovesick fool who couldn’t tell a forge from a farm. And was he really wearing a flower crown while spouting poetry about how beautiful your eyes were compared to the “gleaming stars of Elbereth”?

When you returned, finding him sitting at the table with your notebook open in front of him, his expression was a mixture of horror and disbelief, not far off from yours at his discovery. “Care to explain this?” he asked, his voice strained as he tapped a finger on the offending passage.

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his expression. “You weren’t supposed to see that!”

Curufin pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to gather his thoughts. “You’ve turned me into some kind of…lovestruck poet! And what is this nonsense about me trying to bake bread for you and burning down half the kitchen? I’m a master craftsman, not some…incompetent oaf!”

“Have you ever seen yourself in the kitchen making the simplest of things,” you teased, leaning over to read the part that had him so outraged. “I thought you’d enjoy it!”

“Enjoy it? You have a cruel sense of humour. Change this, please!" Curufin pleaded, his voice almost panicked. The thought of anyone—especially his brothers—reading such a portrayal was too much to bear. “I have a reputation, you know. This—this will ruin me!”

You shook your head, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Well…I can always write about you being a brooding, melodramatic anti-hero who monologues about his dark, tragic past while throwing in some utterly cringe-worthy lines like, “No one understands the deep abyss of my soul, not even my beloved.”

“Absolutely not! Furthermore, that suspiciously sounds like you’ve already written it,” he accused as his fingers flipped the pages, searching for the story.

Setting your basket of herbs down, you chuckled, “Maybe, however, this one stays. Besides, no one else is going to read it…unless you keep making such a fuss about it."

Curufin groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This is not right!”

“If you continue to complain, I’ll write you more tragic than you already are,” you replied, planting a kiss on his cheek.

He gave you a withering look but couldn’t stay angry. “At least give me a heroic death or something…not this ridiculous baking disaster. I have standards!”

You laughed again, knowing full well that no amount of pleading would make you change a word. Curufin could only shake his head, muttering to himself as he walked away, “A flower crown… really?”

「 ✦Turgon✦ 」

When he discovered that you had been writing stories about him, his curiosity was piqued. He imagined grand epics or tales of his wisdom, but when he found the actual content, his reaction was...less than pleased.

He sat across from you in your shared chambers, holding the offending parchment as if it were some dark relic. “You wrote this about me?” he asked, his voice incredulous. You could see his composure faltering as he glanced down at the text once more. “I’m a tyrant who imprisons wayward poets and forces them to compose odes to my magnificence? And what is this about me turning into a dragon at night?”

You tried to stifle your laughter but failed miserably. “It’s just a story, Turgon. You’re the tragic anti-hero who loses his mind and his kingdom.”

He gave you a look that was equal parts exasperation and disbelief. “Tragic anti-hero? I’m a lunatic in this! And why on earth would I turn into a dragon? My ancestors never had anything to do with dragons!”

You shrugged, an innocent smile playing on your lips. “Artistic license?”

Turgon groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “This is not how people should see me! I’m not some unhinged ruler obsessed with power and—wait, do I really speak in third person in every single chapter?” He flipped through the pages, his eyes widening with every line. “Turgon commands! Turgon decrees! Turgon is displeased!”

“It adds to the drama,” you teased, leaning back and crossing your arms. “And the readers seem to enjoy it. If you want, I can merge it with another idea where you have a penchant for over-the-top declarations and an obsession with your own reflection.”

“I do not swoon at my reflections!” he whined.

“‘And lo, Turgon, the fairest of all Eldar, gazed upon his reflection, and the very heavens wept at his beauty…’” you mocked, lifting a hand to your forehead, pretending to swoon.

“No! I am not that vain! And who are these readers, and why do they enjoy such madness?” he demanded, looking genuinely baffled.

You chuckled. “Um…your Lords, especially Penlod. He’s impressed by my creativity,” you sheepishly muttered, “They find you entertaining. It’s just fiction, Turgon. People love a good villain.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “You read to my Lords that I’m a villain. I don’t even have a nefarious plan! And this duel with Fingolfin—why would I challenge my own father?!”

You reached over and patted his hand, still unable to wipe the smile off your face. “Maybe you need to lighten up a bit. It’s all in good fun.”

Turgon sighed, staring at the parchment like it was a betrayal of everything he stood for. “Can’t you at least make me less…absurd? A little more dignified?”

“Nope,” you said cheerfully, plucking the story from his hands. “That would ruin the whole point.”

He slumped in his chair, utterly defeated. “This is torture.”

“Of course it is,” you replied, grinning. “And the more you protest, the more inclined I’d be to release an even more ridiculous story.”

Turgon gave you a long, suffering look before burying his face in his hands. “As if this wasn’t already absurd…”

「 ✦Finarfin✦ 」

He had assumed you were writing poetry or perhaps a letter. Even the way you would double over your papers, laughing and snickering as your quill scribbled across the page, still never led him to imagine that you were penning elaborate tales about him. One evening, curiosity got the better of him, and he peeked over your shoulder as you wrote. Instantly, him eyes fell from his sockets as he read the words on the page.

“What… what is this?” he stammered, barely able to believe what he was seeing. In your story, Finarfin—noble and wise King of the Noldor—was portrayed as a dark, brooding figure who lived in a shadowy tower, plotting mysterious schemes and cursing his foes with ancient, forbidden magic.

You looked up at him with a grin, clearly unrepentant. “Oh, just a little something I’ve been working on.”

“Little? ”he repeated, aghast. “You’ve turned me into some kind of…evil sorcerer! And this dialogue! ‘The night shall swallow your soul, and darkness shall be your only companion’? I would never say that!”

You burst out laughing at the sheer horror in his voice. “But it’s fun! Besides, you’re kind of cool as a dark lord.”

Finarfin gave you a long, hard look, his hands on his hips. “I cannot allow this to stand. Change it! What if someone reads this? They’ll think I’ve gone mad!”

“You worry too much,” you said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just fantasy. And besides, who’s going to read it? It’s not like I’m publishing it, or maybe I should. Think of the fortune I’d make….” You whispered more to yourself than him while rubbing your chin.

He sighed, clearly distressed. “This is so far from who I am! You’ve made me sound like some villain out of a children’s tale! Please, my love, I implore you…write something more…accurate.”

“Accurate?” you teased, arching an eyebrow. “Like what? The time you got lost in the gardens and refused to ask for directions?”

Finarfin’s face turned a delightful shade of pink, and he shook his head fervently. “No! Something dignified…perhaps a tale of wisdom or…or bravery?”

You smiled sweetly, patting his arm. “Ugh, too boring. No one would read that. I’m quite fond of Dark Lord Finarfin.”

Finarfin sighed in resignation, realising he wasn’t going to win this battle. “If this ever gets out…”

“You wouldn’t die,” you assured him, though the twinkle in your eye suggested you were thoroughly enjoying his discomfort.

He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips despite himself. “You truly are incorrigible.”

“At least I’m talented, right?,” you said, kissing his cheek.

Finarfin laughed softly, wrapping an arm around you. “Indeed, for bizarre tales.”

「 ✦Egalmoth✦ 」

Known for his epitome of elegance and grace, a Lord whose charm and wit were unmatched, he was secretly thrilled when he found out that you had taken up the pen to write stories about him. That is, until he actually read what you had written.

He stormed into the room, holding the pages as if they were an orcish weapon. “Is this your idea of a joke?” he asked, his usually calm and melodic voice now tinged with outrage.

You looked up from your work, biting back a smile. “What’s wrong, darling?”

Egalmoth’s eyes narrowed as he read aloud. “The Dark Lord Egalmoth, with his army of cursed skeletons, ruled Gondolin with an iron fist, forcing his subjects to worship him or face the wrath of his pet sphinx.” He looked up, his expression a mixture of horror and disbelief. “A sphinx, really?”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “I thought it was a nice touch. You’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

“This is not dramatic! This is ridiculous! You’ve made me into a laughingstock! A…a parody of myself.” He waved the parchment at you. “Oh, woe is me, for I am but a poor, misunderstood Lord, doomed to be misrepresented for all eternity… I’m one of the most beloved lords in Gondolin!”

You shrugged nonchalantly. “You’re proving my point. Plus, people love a good villain. And it’s not like you’re entirely like that, the evil part I meant.”

He groaned, dropping the parchment onto the table. “And what’s with the cursed skeletons? Where did they even come from? I’ve never dealt with necromancy in my life!”

“Artistic license,” you said with a wink.

Egalmoth threw his hands up in the air before pointing them at you. “There’s artistic license, and then there’s…whatever this is!” He picked up the pages again, flipping through them. “And what is this about me challenging Glorfindel to a duel over a hat?”

You grinned. “It’s an epic battle for the most fabulous headwear in all of Gondolin. Glorfindel’s hat has feathers, and yours is made of a kaleidoscope of gemstones. The stakes couldn’t be higher.”

Egalmoth stared at you, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to find words. “This…this is madness. Utter madness. I would never duel someone over a hat!”

“But think of the drama!” you insisted, laughing as you reached for the parchment. “It’s all in good fun. You can be the dark, brooding anti-hero.”

“I don’t want to be a dark, brooding anti-hero,” he muttered, rubbing his temples. “And what about this scene where I banish Tuor for using the wrong fork at dinner? I would never do that!”

You shrugged, grinning mischievously. “You might, if it was your favourite fork.”

He stared at you in disbelief. “Please, for the love of Eru, change this. I beg you.”

“Fine then,” you said cheerfully, tucking the parchment away. “I’ll write a story where you you’re portrayed as a flamboyant and melodramatic Lord, prone to fainting at the slightest inconvenience and speaking in overly poetic riddles. But know that the more you protest, the more outrageous it will become.”

Egalmoth groaned dramatically, leaning against the wall as if his life’s burdens had suddenly become too heavy. “You’re going to ruin my reputation, you know that?”

“Don’t worry,” you teased. “Your reputation in the fanfic world is already legendary.”

He looked at you, defeated but with a twinkle of humor in his eye. “Hmm, sure.”

「 ✦Beleg✦ 」

Being a curious elf had its perks, which meant getting into more trouble than he liked to admit. Like the day you were out gathering herbs and fruits and he stumbled upon a leather-bound journal tucked under your pillow. His natural curiosity got the better of him, and before he knew it, he was leafing through the pages, his eyes widening with each word he read.

When you returned, you found Beleg sitting cross-legged on the bed, your journal open in his lap, a look of pure disbelief on his usually composed face. "Is this…me?" he asked, his voice a mix of confusion and amusement. You froze, immediately recognising the situation.

“Uh, maybe?” you replied, trying to gauge his reaction.

Beleg cleared his throat, reading aloud in an exaggerated tone, “‘Beleg Strongbow, the mighty and majestic warrior, paused mid-battle to admire his reflection in the river, his hair flowing like a golden waterfall as he struck a pose worthy of the Valar.’”

You cringed internally as he continued, “A pose worthy of the Valar, really? Do you truly think I spend my time in battle preening like a peacock?”

You couldn't help but laugh at his horrified expression. “It’s just for fun, Beleg. People enjoy reading about a more…dramatic version of you.”

He shot you a look that was both exasperated and pleading. “But this isn’t me! I don’t pose mid-battle! I certainly don’t spend hours grooming my hair—golden waterfall? My hair isn’t even golden!” He looked genuinely distressed as he skimmed through more of your work.

“Here’s another one!” he exclaimed, reading aloud, “‘Beleg, the bravest of all, leaped from the treetops, only to get tangled in the vines, dangling upside down as he tried to maintain his dignity.’” He paused, raising an eyebrow at you. “Tangled in vines? I’ve never been tangled in vines in my life!”

You tried to stifle your giggles, but they escaped anyway. “Come on, Beleg, it’s just a story! It’s supposed to be exaggerated.”

Beleg looked at you with wide, earnest eyes. “Please, change it. Just a little? Make me…less ridiculous?”

You shook your head, grinning. “Would you prefer if I wrote you off in a battle?”

His sighed halted as he stared at you in utter disbelief at your choice of changing the story. “How is that any better that before? And why would you kill me?”

“Because I’m the author and I can do whatever I want to the characters, and fhey can’t do a single thing about it,” you replied cheerfully, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “But look on the bright side, at least now people know you have a sense of humor!”

He groaned, covering his face with his hands. “A sense of humour! That’s the last thing people would recognise in these stories. But please don’t make me die—I’m too heroic to die. Write about me saving you like I always do.”

For the rest of the day, Beleg chastised you mercilessly, to not kill off his character in any of your stories you planned on writing about him in the near future. Begging to have an input the tales about him, so they would have to be as painfully awkward as you pen them.

「 ✦Gwindor✦ 」

Never the type to pry, but the sight of you giggling to yourself as you wrote in your journal piqued his curiosity. While you were out of the room, he couldn’t resist, opening your journal to a random page and beginning to read. What he found had him staring at the pages in utter disbelief.

According to your writings, Gwindor was some kind of brooding, tortured soul who wandered the forests at night, muttering dark prophecies to himself and scaring off woodland creatures with his gloomy presence. And the love letters! They were all sappy, over-the-top declarations that had Gwindor cringing. If he had any idea how you were portraying him, he might have refused to ever speak again.

When you came back, you found Gwindor standing there, journal in hand, looking at you with wide eyes. “What…is this?” he asked, holding up the open book, looking like he was reasy to cry.

You immediately knew what he was talking about and burst into laughter. “Oh, that? It’s just a little fanfiction,” you replied, trying to downplay it.

Gwindor’s jaw dropped. “A little fanfiction? You’ve turned me into a wandering spirit of doom! I don’t wander around muttering dark prophecies! And this love letter—” he pointed to a particularly sappy passage, “—isn’t this a bit much?”

You couldn’t stop laughing as Gwindor continued to stare at the journal, utterly appalled. “It’s for fun!” you said between giggles. “Besides, it’s not that far from reality.”

“Not that far?” Gwindor repeated, aghast. “I’ve never even written a love letter in my life that sounded like this!” He mimicked the overly poetic lines with an exaggerated, tragic tone, making you laugh even harder.

Gwindor groaned, closing the journal and giving you a pleading look. “Please, please change it. You’ve made me sound like a character from a bad romance novel!”

“So you think my writing and creativity are bad then?” you asked with a straight face, watching as he fumbled around for the right words.

“Not for me,” he said, giving you a look that was almost comically serious. “At least let me have some dignity in your stories.”

“But it’s so entertaining!” you teased, reaching for the journal, but Gwindor held it back. You shook your head, grinning. “Plus, that’s too boring! Gwindor, the brooding, tortured soul stays.”

Gwindor sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “You’re going to ruin my reputation!”

You walked over and kissed his cheek, laughing at his mock misery. “Don’t worry, love. Your secret’s safe with me—and whoever reads the fanfiction.”

Gwindor gave you a long-suffering look, but his lips were twitching with the effort not to laugh. “You owe me for this, you know.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “Threatening the author who can turn your character into anything they want it to be, now?”

Sheepishly grinning, he pulled you close. “Yes. I’m threatening you to write me not broody and dark. I’m a nice elf who doesn’t wander the forest at night.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No promises, Gwindor. No promises.”

Masterlist

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¨*:·Guess The Cat’s Out The Bag | Getting Caught Dating¨*:·

Headcanon: Amrod, Argon, Angrod, Galdor

˖˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Amrod — because he’s a master of pranks and grew up sharing and holding secrets for his twin, the both of you being a secret relationship is tight lip, locked and seal. That is if his twin hasn’t caught on the abnormal behaviour of his twin whenever you’re in the room.

The straightening of Amrod’s posture and the quietening of his voice whenever you set into their circle to reintroduce yourself and greet the nobilities. Amras could see how his brother’s hand shook and the starry, softer look in his brother’s eyes the longer he observed the older male.

A bright was plastered across Amrod’s face the minute you stepped into the room and made your way elegantly to his small clique. The swoosh in the fabric of your clothes and hair made you appear like a deity in his eyes, his grin accidentally stretched further across his face. Both you and his brother caught the moment and while you stared in horror at his slip up, Amras stared in suspicion.

Approaching the twins, you slightly bowed and extended your hand to greet them both, resisting the urge to turn your full attention on the social twin. Even you couldn’t hide the sparkle in your eyes the longer you locked eyes with him. It was as though Amras has vanished from your little circle along with the other guests in the room and all that mattered where you two. The little flustered look you gave him, eyes darting between his face and your glass was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

“I don’t mean to break up the romantic love scene between you two but, how long have you been together behind my back…brother?” Amras voice rung through the air with a smirk in his voice as he faced his brother’s horrid expression.

Stuttering and stammering, Amrod felt his pressure rising as he darted around, hoping no one else saw and whispered through his teeth, “I-If you spill a word about us, you’ll wake up swimming with the geese in the pond.”

“Amrod,” you warned to calm him down and placed your hand on his arm, “no need to threaten your brother. I’m sure he’ll keep it a secret.”

“Yes Amrod! No need to threaten your brother, he’ll keep it a secret!” Amras teased and eyes shimmered over the rim of his wine glass as he wiggled his brow.

“Though, I am tempted to tell everyone…you did keep a secret from your favourite brother. You hurt me.”

˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Argon — he should know better than to keep something hidden in his family especially when his siblings were Aredhel and Fingon. He grew up in their footsteps, mostly his eldest brother, so he was his confidant and advisor, he knew Fingon would be saddened that his baby brother kept such a precious secret from him.

But even Argon struggled on his own to keep your relationship under the radar. Hearing your name would make him giddy and blush, and butterflies would erupt in the pit of his stomach. Your presence would make him malfunction, so keeping your affair under the rug was a failure from the start, but a joyous attempt for laughter sake.

The twinkling of the twilight canopy loomed overhead as you and Argon laid on the slightly warmed blanket in the fields and viewed the constellations. Your fingers eagerly pointing out all the stars and calling them out in the attempt to discover the most and beat Argon, since he had the winning streak. For someone who got distracted easily, he sure had a fixed attention span when something or, in this case, someone caught it.

A mixture of soft and loud laughter rumbled throughout the undisturbed night’s air when he rolled closer to your side and whispered something humorous in your ear, followed by a kiss to your cheek. It wasn’t often he was open to affection sight everything was kept under radar, and you both had a good enough reason for such. Not a single one of you suspected the soft padding of footsteps behind you.

“So, this is why you couldn’t stay for family night,” the accusing voice of Fingon startled you both, urging you to scramble apart and off the blanket. Behind him stood Aredhel with a mischievous smirk on her face, ready to tease her baby brother. “B-Brother…it’s not what you think!”

Everyone except Argon, even you, were appalled by his line of defence, it was pathetic. “It’s not what we think?,” both exclamations came from Fingon and Aredhel before the elder spoke out, “you two were kissing and giggling like teens.” This time, he turned the heat on the tease. The obvious grin on their faces told Argon that he was in trouble from them both.

“J-Just don’t tell amillё and atar, I’ll be pestered worse than you two already plan on…”

Shrugging their shoulders, it was Aredhel who teased, “I actually don’t mind, Finno and I are going to bet on how long you two can keep it a secret.”

“I hate you two.”

˖ ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Angrod — his idea of keeping something a secret stays a secret, so you don’t need to worry about the cat being let out the bag. He’s coherent with his actions which means no one is going to figure out you two are a thing. The most that might happen is the speculation of your relationship due to your friendship you shared as a means to linger close by.

However, they were moments that went by where the both of you weren’t being careful with your actions and everyone got the message. Let’s just say that the teasing was never ending for his huge slip up in that moment. He couldn’t help himself and lose focus when you were sitting so beautifully across from him, shinning in all your glory.

His eyes were locked on you the entire time during the dinner his parents regularly held quarterly. Dressed in your lighter house colour since you were of Telerin descent, pearls and the colours of the sea were your garments. The mistake you made with your outfit was dressing too perfectly to the point Angrod’s eyes remained locked on you at all times. Even while his brothers were chatting with him, he kept his eyes focused on your pretty figure.

“Angrod! Oi, I speaking to you!” shouted Aegnor before giving him a rough shove to make him snap out of his enchantment. Though, it was his eldest brother who was observing how he was quiet the entire night and only engaged in conversation with you. Being the outspoken person he was, Finrod forgot his filter in that moment and allowed the cat to escape the bag.

“Are you and Y/N together?” The entire table fell silent minus the coughs from you two at the abrupt question that blew your cover. “You’ve been staring all night at them brother. More than friendly…”

“I agree, there’s a bit of…affection behind those eyes. Care to tell us something we don’t know, or already suspected?” This time, Finarfin decided to join in on the teasing after observing your interactions all evening. Nothing missed his eyes and Angrod should have known better.

Clearing his throat and making a quick dart in your direction, he cast his eyes at his plate and awkwardly chuckled. Speaking up, he spoke too quickly, giving himself away, “N-No, there isn’t anything between us, just friendship.”

At first, there was a silence that fell over the table before the cheeky announcement from Finrod. “I told you he’d deny it. Pay up, you all lost the bet!”

“Wait! You all placed bets?”

“Yeah, but all you had to do was admit you were together and not lie. Now I have to pay both father and brother,” quarrelled Aegnor, “thanks a lot idiot.”

˖ ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ Galdor — the only reason this lovely quiet Lord would keep his relationship a secret would be to prevent the prying and mischievous eyes of his best buddies from making things clustering. Galdor had heard enough from the other Lords’ lovers that they were snoopy, and that was the last thing Galdor wanted. He wanted to love you on his own with any intervention.

All day he was in his study, busy with filling out orders for the upcoming spring festival and ensuring that his produce was healthy and in stock. You didn’t have to be in the room to know that he was tired and frantic hence your reason for visiting during the later hours of the evening when most of his work cleared up. Standing behind him and massaging his shoulders, you couldn’t help but lean in to give him a chaste kiss which escalated.

As sweet and chaste it was, you wanted another and leaned forward to capture his lips in another round of light kisses. You could feel Galdor melting into your touch and tell that he craved them just as much as you did. Turning to face you causing the kiss to deepen, there was the sound of the doorknob twisting and in walked Lord Ecthelion followed by the Egalmoth with awkward stares on their faces. As intruding they were, it was strange to witness their friend being romantic when he claimed he was single.

“So, which one of us won the bet?”

“I don’t believe any of us won. We all bet that he really didn’t have someone.”

“The both of you are aware that I can hear you right?” Snapping their head over to an irritated Galdor they lifted their hands to show their surrender, however, Galdor knew one would speak. The smirk on Egalmoth’s face spoke volumes since he was known for his gossiping tendencies.

“If word gets out, I’ll find you Egalmoth.”

“You want to keep it a secret? Why? We could be celebrating and getting drunk in your honour.”

Huffing, Galdor stood from his chair and rounded the desk to stand with his arms folded across his chest. “Because I will poison your food supply, that’s why. You are the worst at keeping secrets; I don’t trust you.”

“You want to bet that I can keep it a secret?”

“If you lose, I’ll really poison your food supply.”

Masterlist

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[doodle-pops]

︶꒦꒷Underrated Character Event Masterlist꒷꒦︶

˚₊‧꒰ა︶꒦꒷Fics/Scenarios꒷꒦︶໒꒱ ‧₊˚

➳❥ Gentle Steps — Curufin x daughter!reader | 1.1k | fluff

➳❥ Happy Feet — Beleg x female!reader | 2k | fluff

➳❥ I’ll Wait For You — Amras x reader | 2.3k | comfort

➳❥ Foreign Hearts — Gil Galad x modern human!reader | 3.7k | fluff

➳❥ In All Shapes and Sizes — Beleg x shapeshifter!reader | 600 | fluff by @felagund-the-valiant

➳❥ Big Hands and Tiny Paws — Argon x reader | 600 | fluff by @felagund-the-valiant

➳❥ Your Father’s Son — Curufin x maia!reader | 1.3k | fluff & hurt/comfort by @felagund-the-valiant

˚₊‧꒰ა︶꒦꒷Headcanons꒷꒦︶໒꒱ ‧₊˚

➳❥ You Have Heterochromia Eyes — Curufin, Argon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Thingol, Beleg

➳❥ Little Things You Do That Make Them Smile — Turgon, Finarfin, Galdor, Rog, Gwindor

➳❥ Giving Them The Silent Treatment — Amrod, Argon, Angrod, Egalmoth, Beleg, Gil Galad

➳❥ Getting Caught Secretly Dating — Amras, Argon, Angrod, Galdor

➳❥ You Don’t Give Them Attention (They Get Jealous) — Curufin, Amrod, Galdor, Beleg, Gwindor

➳❥ When You Dodge Their Kisses — Amras, Argon, Aegnor, Rog, Thingol

➳❥ Princess Treatment pt2 — Curufin, Amras, Turgon, Finarfin, Aegnor, Galdor, Rog, Beleg

➳❥ Discovering You Writing Fanfiction About Them — Curufin, Turgon, Finarfin, Egalmoth, Beleg, Gwindor

This content is the work of ©doodle-pops 2024. No permission to repost, upload, translate, or plagiarise on any platform. Reblogs are welcomed to show support to content creators. I do not own these characters. All rights to the original creators.