#vaire x reader

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a former spirit of Manwe and then becoming a spirit of Mandos

You were a former spirit of Manwe, who became trapped in the form of a raven by Melkor. You then find yourself in service of Mandos and find new life within his halls.

Requested by Anon

Hello!👋 I would like to request a Namo(Mandos) x Maiar reader who once served Manwe until her sudden marriage arranged by Eru himself. She helps her husband with the souls, elven and men, by guiding them to their different resting places. She and Mandos didn't want to get married, but with a lot of convincing from Manwe and Varda they both gave in. (please continue I don't know what else to add🥲)

A little angsty, but fluff pls🥺

(she is like a wind spirit helping Manwe with the winds)

(I don't know what I am thinking/requesting🥲, you can ignore this request👍)

(Author's note: I struggled to come up with ideas for this as I didn't know how reader would end up from making winds to suddenly guide the dead, so I changed it just a bit to fit the original theme and make it work. I hope you're fine with that. Also--- when it comes to characters who are canonically married to someone known. My brain always goes *why not both?*. It might have also become more platonic than romantic. My head lost ideas on that part. Sorry if that was not what you completely wanted but it was the best I could come up with. )

Warnings: Melkor, torture, death, you being corrupted, living and surviving alone, angst, guiding dead spirits, reunion, becoming Mandos's maiar, angst to fluff, and a good ending.

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- You used to be one of Manwe’s wind spirits, taking care of the natural flow of the wind around the world. You were happy with your position as your lord was kind and compassionate toward you and your friends. But then, one day, you and your friends were taken against your will by his less kind brother, Melkor. 

- You and your friends' forms were that of small birds and you had never been part of battles like Thorondor and his eagles, so you were powerless against the fallen valar as he subjected you to his cruel tortures and experiments — trying to discover the secret of your wings that allowed you to fly. 

- You managed to escape by turning yourself into the wind, making him unable to grab you. However, as a mere wisp of wind, you could not help your friends as he twisted their bodies and very souls. It was terrible. You only left when your last remaining friend pleaded for you to escape. However, Melkor did not allow you to leave unscathed. 

- As he was greater in power, he cursed and tainted your body with his darkness. The foul airs forced you to return to your bird form and be twisted into that of a raven, causing you pain and being cut off from your connection with the wind. He laughed in mockery as he allowed you to flee, calling out how you will never be accepted again by Manwe and the other valar for your new corrupted form. 

- After you escaped his domain, you wandered and grieved for many years for the cruel fate of your friends and your new life.  You did not want to believe the fallen valar’s words, but since you could no longer feel the connection you once had with Manwe’s domain, you feared he was right. You were completely cut off, trapped in a form forced upon you by him. Everything felt wrong and you were completely alone. 

- Ravens already had a poor reputation for being associated with death and darkness. They were seen as ill omens thus the Valars might cast you out than let you step into their lands again. 

- After some years, you learned to survive as a raven. You missed your home and Manwe, but due to your corrupt form, you learned to accept you will never see them again.

- When the first children of Eru awakened, you tried to watch out for them as they lived in darkened lands, meaning they were easy targets to Melkor and his creatures. You couldn't do much as Melkor’s servants were too powerful and the elves began to see you as a spy as you were always there when a servant of Melkor arrived — even though you tried to warn them whenever they were near. 

- However, you then found out something strange. When you found body of a dead elf, you were able to see their disembodied soul and being able to speak with them. It was strange as you were not able to speak with them when they were alive. You have heard some maiars can develop different abilities if they were associated with a certain thing for long periods of time — in your case— death. 

- You knew what would happen to the souls lost in the dark, so you took it upon yourself to guide them toward the direction of the halls of Mandos. 

- It was not easy but when you succeeded in bringing the soul to safety, you decided to help as many souls as you could, saving them from the cruel grips of Melkor’s darkness. It was the first time you felt grateful for your new body as it allowed you to see through the dark and fly unnoticed by Melkor’s servants. 

- You did it for many years. Mandos eventually took notice whenever a new soul came to his halls and spoke about a raven. He would bring it up to the other Valars who would become intrigued by this strange raven.

- When Orome finally located the elves — he also found you. He immediately knew you were a maiar trapped in a singular form. He spoke how your efforts have been noticed by the Valar and expressed his sympathy when you told him you were one of many who Melkor had taken against their will and twisted beyond recognition. He then said you were welcome to enter Aman and asked you to return with him. 

- You felt fearful of the offer as you still saw yourself tainted and did not know how Manwe would react seeing you again. However, through assurance from Orome, you accepted his offer and returned to Aman with him. 

- Manwe was shocked when he recognized you. He then grieved when you told him what Melkor did to you and your friends, and that you had wandered alone in the darkened lands for many years. He said he would not have turned you away if you had come to him. He knew Melkor took many of his maiars, and none ever returned from his cruelty, so seeing one of his maiars return brought relief.

- You felt small joy by his statement. However, the damage Melkor had done to you had already been done. You could no longer create winds or change shape thus there was no way you could serve him again. 

- Mandos then suggested that you could come to serve in his halls instead since you had become more associated with the realm of the dead and spirits. Melkor’s darkness and evil prevented many souls from returning to his halls. You had already guided many souls back to the light and were capable of retrieving them from the darkness unnoticed. 

- You accepted the proposition. If it meant you would have a home again and help those Melkor had wronged, then you would do it. 

- As now a servant of Mandos, you diligently traveled in the darkness, guiding the lost souls back to their rightful resting places. Mandos was grateful for your efforts and through time you learned new abilities and had become a spirit associated with the dead. Melkor could not see you as your black feathers blended you with the dark and neither could he sense you as you moved between the realms of life and death, making his efforts to trap the souls of the lost futile. 

- It was nearly ironic how his own curse had turned against him. 

- Eventually, you became strong enough to overcome Melkor’s curse and regain your ability to change shape. Your form and powers had significantly changed as you were now a maiar of Mandos, but you no longer found anything wrong with your new form. You had even grown to prefer to stay in your raven form. It was small and quick. 

- You had also grown fond of your new valar. Mandos was not the most expressive of the Valars, preferring to watch from the side in silence, but he was kind to you and his other maiars. His wife, Vaire, was also very kind to you. She was easy to talk to and often asked stories about the souls and their tales so she could weave them. In her mind, no story was not worth being weaved. 

- The two valars were perhaps considered an odd pair by the outsiders, but to you, they seemed perfect for each other. Unintentionally, you had become quite involved with their lives. 

- Mandos often allowed you to rest near him and you two would enjoy the peaceful silence inside the halls.

-Vaire would sometimes ask for small requests from you which you were happy to fulfill. 

- You would sometimes end up getting pulled into some small drama when it came to Irmo or the other valars getting bored. 

- Sometimes Mandos and Vaire would invite you for small leisure time, which would include enjoying the peacefulness. 

- In your small free time, you would end up either playing or riding on Gorgumoth in your raven form. 

- You were content with your life. You did not know if your experience was part of Eru’s plan but your past no longer bothered you. You were happy to serve your two favorite Valars. 

[eunoiaastralwings]

HEADCANONS:

1.  Brief on Miriel and Vaire's friendship

FICS:

1. The Thread of Life (Vaire - shipping/friendship - interpret as you like)

[runawaymun]

Hey:) Could you do a Thranduil/Elf!Reader (romantic), where the reader is quite curvy but really insecure about it, because elves are tall & graceful but the Reader isn't, and Thranduil overhears some other elves teasing her, or finds her crying (idk you decide) and makes her feel better? Make it as angsty as you want, but please make it fluffy too! I use she/they pronouns. (PS: I LOVE your work)

ahh! I love this prompt. And thank you!! I hope you like this one~ this got HUGE lol. But it was loads of fun.

Thranduil x Elf!Reader - A Gown Spun from Starlight

genre: hurt/comfort, romance warnings: none, except for Elves being jerks about the reader’s figure.  for: @narniaandthenorth reader pronouns: she/they

sindarin translations + lore references for those unfamiliar:  anu/inu - male/female elleth/ellon - man/woman (but like, Elves) Naugrim - a kind of rude/racist term for dwarves, lit: “stunted people”. mîr nín - my treasure/jewel gil-mîr - glittering jewel Vaire: weaver, wife of Namo/Mandos - the Valië that weaves the tapestries in the halls of Mandos which depict the story of Arda Elbereth: the kindler of the stars, most beloved Valië of the Elves, wife of Manwë, lord of wind and sky, and queen of the Valar. Said to be too beautiful for words with a face that radiates pure light.

-

You’re used to the looks.

You’ve lived with them your entire life. Though, admittedly, you grew up among your Noldorin relatives and they were much better at relegating their judgement to the lift of an eyebrow, a stare that lingered just too long, or --if they were feeling especially rude-- a snide comment or two. But your Silvan and Sindarin cousins have no such subtlety. 

At first, their outright jokes and laughter had shocked you, but you’re getting used to that now. At least it’s more or less died down now that King Thranduil (of all people!) has declared his interest. 

Of course, that came with its own issues.

The laughter was now replaced with nasty glares. 

You can’t blame anyone for it. What Elf--anu or inu-- didn’t fantasize about the king of the Woodland Realm? Thranduil is breathtaking: seven feet tall, silver-haired, and built like a Vala. You’re still not sure what he sees in you. 

Neither is anyone else. 

And they make that known as loudly as they dare. But, of course, never in front of their king. 

Usually you can more or less ignore the scowls and pretend the laughter isn’t about you. But today Thranduil is out on a hunt and, as the saying goes, while the cat’s away...

...the mice are downright malicious. 

The tailor sticks you with another pin and you have to suck in a sharp breath at the sting of pain. He shoots you a smile that’s more cheshire than apologetic, almost daring you to accuse him of doing it on purpose.

“Forgive me. I am unused to working with someone of your...shape.”

You stare at him, in half a mind to just walk out on the fitting, as you feel your face heat in a mixture of shame and anger. You clench your fists at your side but you keep your expression as neutral as you can. You’re under enough scrutiny as it is. The last thing you need is to add “hot-tempered shrew” to your list of faults. 

“No harm done,” you say, trying to sound as magnanimous as you can. As a queen would be. You’re going to be one after all. 

He flashes another façade of a friendly smile and returns to draping the mockup over you. There’s a party coming up and Thranduil has commissioned a new gown for you: something befitting of his Intended.

The tailor only gets halfway through pinning it up when he stops and starts taking it all off of you again, muttering: no, no, no-- it’s all wrong!

You frown at him. He calls for his assistant to start remeasuring, and you have to roll your eyes as the brown-haired ellon comes over with the tape and draws it around your too-wide hips.

“Master tailor, you’ve already taken a thousand measurements!” you complain.

“Yes,” he snaps, “And I shall have to take a thousand more. I cannot finish the fitting today, I fear. The mockup hangs all wrong on all of those...” he drags his eyes up and down your body and vaguely gestures to all of you, and despite yourself you shrink a little on the pedestal. He means your hips. Your breasts. Your thighs. Everything about you that’s too much. It’s all too much. It always has been.

And it hurts.

You hate that it hurts. It shouldn’t hurt. You shouldn’t let it hurt you, but it does. As soon as you reached your half-majority, you started growing differently to your other Elvish peers. Clothes have always been a struggle as every single tailor tried to squash you into a silhouette that you just don’t have.

You can’t decide if it would be better if Thranduil was here or not. The tailor wouldn’t dream of insulting you like this if he was here, but you hadn’t wanted to keep Thranduil from his hunt and you also aren’t sure that you could bear to be poked and prodded and measured with him watching. 

They were talking about you now --the tailor and his assistant-- complaining about you and making all the jokes you’ve heard before. You try not to listen and stand still, fingers still balled up into fists, tears brimming in your eyes that you don’t dare try and wipe away. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“I just don’t know what he expects me to do,” the tailor grumbled. 

His assistant chuckles around the pins he has in his mouth as he kneels to adjust the new hem to accommodate your legs --which are far shorter than the average elleth’s. 

“I am not a worker of miracles, you have to understand,” the tailor goes on. “But I am doing my best.”

Numbly, you nod, hoping that the stiller you stand and the quieter you stay, the faster this whole humiliating experience can be over. 

The assistant takes the last pin out of his mouth and finishes the hem. He stands and steps back, studying their work side-by-side with the tailor and mutters with a helpless shrug:

“There is not much you can do. I am not certain even lady Vaire herself could make one of the Naugrim look like one of the Eldar.”

The tailor claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

Don’t cry.

Don’t cry.

Don’t you dare cry. 

“Half-naugrim,” the tailor corrects-- as if he’s being charitable. “Even so, I would never in a thousand years think our king would deign to take a half-naugrim for a concubine.”

He says it so casually. Like you aren’t even there. You can’t even see through your tears. Shaking, you climb down from the pedestal with the mockup fabric bunched around you, ready to bolt out of the room. You don’t even care that you’re not properly dressed. You just want out of here.

The voice from the doorway stops you dead.

“Even if I did, it would be no concern of yours, master tailor.”

It rings through the room like a lightning strike. Thranduil stands in the door, filling it, wearing his hunting gear and an expression that could freeze a balrog solid.

“How dare you,” Thranduil thunders, striding into the room to step between you and them, gathering you up underneath his arm. He still smells like the forest he’s been out in: like green growing things and rich loam. He wipes at your tears with the leather-gloved pad of his thumb and murmurs in your ear: “You’re perfect.” 

“--We-- we did not mean to insult you, sire,” the tailor tries. He’s gone as white as the mockup muslin.

“No. Indeed you did not. You meant to insult my Intended. But,” he tisks, “In the end you only succeeded in insulting yourself.” His voice is icy; his arm around you is tight. He stands tall as an oak, towering over the two of them and they seem to shrink in his shadow. “I had thought you were a skilled enough tailor to create something worthy of my Beloved. Clearly I was mistaken. Fear not: I never make the same mistake twice.” 

“--Sire--” 

He holds up one gloved hand. The tailor shuts his mouth and squirms beneath his glare.

“You’re relieved of your position,” Thranduil snaps. “You have three hours to pack your things and head for the borders of Greenwood. I suggest you make haste before I decide to have my soldiers drag you there by your ears. Get out.” 

The tailor flees. His assistant, however, hovers nervously and Thranduil’s predatory glower turns on him.

“Have you lost your hearing?”

“Please, my king. I am just his assistant--”

“--Oh. Good. Then you may assist him with his luggage on your journey out of Greenwood.”

The assistant actually bursts into tears. Thranduil’s face remains impassive-- even vaguely disgusted. The ellon runs out and you almost feel sorry for him.

“You didn’t need to banish them,” you whisper once they’re both gone.

“I will suffer no one to abide in my kingdom who sees fit to mock my queen,” Thranduil replies, voice knife-sharp, turning to face you.

“Then you’d have to banish half your subjects, and that’s hardly practical.”

You hate the way your voice shakes just as much as you hate the way his whole body goes stiff.

“Why did you not tell me of this, mîr nín?” He sounds both horrified and furious.

“Are you that blind?” you scoff. “Look at me!” 

A heavy silence passes between you two. Your eyes, the treacherous things, are still leaking water and you hate yourself for it. 

Thranduil’s gaze is a weight pressing on top of you. It sears you to your core. He peels off his riding gloves and tosses them carelessly onto the tailor’s table, then presses the crook of his finger beneath your chin.

When you meet his glittering blue eyes, the expression in them is so intense it knocks all the air out of you.

“I am,” he says, voice suddenly impossibly soft. “I am looking at you.”

Habitually, you avert your eyes. It’s too much. You’re still flushed red with shame.

He grips your chin and commands: “Look at me.”

You do. His gaze is no less intense. He winds an arm around your waist, dipping until your noses brush together and you can feel his warm breath ghosting across your lips. 

“I burn for you,” he hisses. “You enchant me. You undo me utterly, gil-mîr. I do not concern myself with the opinions of others, least of all that fool of a tailor.” 

Your mouth trembles. He brushes his thumb over it and then presses a kiss to your lips. Usually his kisses are fire, possessive, consuming, passionate, leaving you breathless. This one is gentle, almost chaste, and dripping with pure adoration.

“You will be no concubine. You will be my wife. Their queen. I would have them all see you as such.”

You close your eyes and rest your head on his shoulder, and he winds his other arm around you and cards his hand through your hair. He’s so much taller. So strong. Pure power bound up in every inch of him. He makes you feel so safe.

“I don’t want to go to that party,” you mumble.

“And deny yourself the pleasure of making them all sick with envy? Please.” 

You smile into his shoulder. “And how, dear Beloved, am I to do that without a gown?”

“You shall have a gown,” he growls back. “A gown such that no one as ever seen, laden with so many white gems they shall think Elbereth herself has come down from the heavens to Greenwood. You shall have it even if I must hold a hundred thousand tailors at swordpoint to get it.”

It’s so dramatic. So very him.

It makes you warm in the very best of ways. You take his face in your hands and stand on your toes to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Do not. I fear we would run out of tailors.”

Thranduil looks entirely unbothered when he replies: 

“For you, that is a price I am willing to pay.” 

[straylightdream]

Arsonists Lullabye (teaser)

coming soon...

pairing: mob boss! junmyeon x reader, bodyguard! sehun

word count: chapter one is 10.4k (I got carrried away)

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries, violence, and murder. Future chapters will contain vairing amounts of sexual content, such as intercourse.

summary: Cold, wicked and ruthless we’re all words that people used to describe Junmyeon, but when I came to her he made an oath to protect her. Sehun was assigned to watch over her, he never expected for her to break down his walls.

teaser #1

The door creaks as it slowly opens. Your eyes drift up to see Junmyeon entering the room dressed in a suit with an unreadable expression playing across his face. His hair is pushed back and you can’t help but think about how he looks like he’s dressed for a funeral. He pulled up a chair sitting next to the bed. Silently he stares at you for what felt like an eternity. Your eyes are growing heavy the longer you stare at him. If he doesn’t speak soon you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to stay awake long enough to talk to him.

“You’re moving in here,” his voice finally breaks the silence.

Your eyes flutter open looking up at him. You aren’t sure if it’s your possible concussion, but you’re unsure if you heard him properly.

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

“I told your brother that I would protect you if anything ever happened to him. So it is now my duty to watch over you,” he runs his fingers through his dark hair and lets out a heavy sigh. The weight of the world seems like it’s on his shoulders. You assume being a very powerful mob boss was probably extremely stressful.

Your brother met Junmyeon when he was a teenager. They had attended the same school. They grew up together and you knew they were like brothers. You weren’t the only one who lost a brother that night. Junmyeon and his men lost someone who was like a brother to them.

Even though you were unsure about living with Junmyeon you had no desire to argue with him. You knew that if you left someone was going to kill you. They took out your brother and would have no problem killing you. Your life didn’t really exist without your brother either. You’ve never been a sociable person. You lived your life focusing on school attempting to make a better life for yourself. At the moment school didn’t even seem to matter to you anymore. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. The death of your brother would change your life forever. You could no longer pretend the dark underbelly of the city didn’t exist. You were pulled head first in wine colored sea. Luckily Junmyeon was there to offer you a lifeboat to save you from the monster that swam in the sea.

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