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cilil · 1 year

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Day 7 ⋆⛧⋆ Flower Shop AU ⋆⛧⋆

❀Synopsis: Mairon is bored at work until a strange new customer shows up, and Melkor finds something more than just a new plant friend.

❀Warnings: /

❀Author's Note: Final day, final fic. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this one too!♡

PS: Yes, I like cacti.

One more hour till closing.

Mairon sighed after checking his watch and pinched the bridge of his nose. As grateful as he was to have a little side job to bolster his funds–life was expensive, and university wouldn't pay for itself once he finished his apprenticeship–working at Yavanna's flower shop could sometimes get on his nerves. Aulë, his boss, had been kind enough to refer him to his wife after hearing he was looking for some additional work, and Yavanna, Vána and Aiwendil were all lovely people, Mairon had to admit as much, yet he couldn't stop thinking about how he'd love to be in the forge instead right now, getting some actual work done.

From experience he knew not to expect too many customers at this hour, which meant that he would have to find something else to keep himself busy, exciting activities such as stocking and sorting potted plants, chocolate, small gifts and all those little trinkets the shop had on display. At least Aiwendil was more than happy to take care of the back-of-house work and assembling arrangements–while Mairon was no stranger to physical labour, he wasn't particularly fond of getting pollen all over his clothes and stuck under his nails.

Just as he was debating whether it was too early to start bringing in the display arrangements from outside in preparation for closing, he was alerted to a customer entering the shop by the telltale sound of wind chimes. Swiftly, Mairon pretended to be in the process of rearranging a couple of nearby pots, trying to appear busy; if he was lucky, this would dissuade them from asking him questions and save him the embarrassment of potentially being unable to answer them.

Unable to contain his curiosity, he glanced over his shoulder to have a look at the customer, and found himself intrigued immediately. He had expected an old lady maybe, or a guy who had forgotten some kind of anniversary and rushed to the next best flower shop after work to cover up his mistake, but not...

Whoever this guy was. In fact, Mairon was surprised to see someone like him in such a location at all.

The first things he noticed were that he was tall and dressed like some kind of goth. He wore black leather pants, black spiked boots that made his feet look slightly too big for his body, giving him an almost cartoonish appearance, and an oversized black t-shirt that proudly displayed a huge fist with a raised middle finger. His hair was also black, long and messy as if its owner had an inherent distaste for combs and brushes, with red and turquoise streaks in it. Yet the thing that kept Mairon staring–in spite of an outfit he would normally consider ridiculous–was that the goth guy aimlessly wandering the shop was kind of cute, handsome even.

His thoughts were interrupted when a pair of light blue eyes suddenly stared back at him. He quickly turned back to the flower pots, but the damage was already done; it seemed as though their accidental eye contact had encouraged the customer to finally approach him.

"Hey," a deep, surprisingly pleasant voice greeted him, and he could feel his gaze resting on him.

Since when is it so warm in here...?

"Can I help you with anything?" Mairon asked politely, still shuffling pots back and forth to cover up his embarrassment, and forced a smile as he glanced up at the customer.

Those eyes...

"Yeah. Do you have carnivorous plants?" Seeing him blink and taking a moment to think, the goth guy quickly added, "I mean, I like the cacti too, don't get me wrong, but I already have a few."

Of course he's looking for carnivorous plants and cacti.

Mairon had to force down a grin; he certainly couldn't imagine this guy looking for roses or orchids. At least his preferences seemed to be in-character, and surprisingly enough, they appeared to have something in common there: His favourite plants were cacti as well.

"Uh, sure," he hurried to respond, "they're over here–"

He didn't even know why he bothered to lead the way and continue their conversation, justifying it to himself as having nothing better to do anyway. Just customer service, nothing more. Though... this mystery man certainly had lovely eyes, a handsome face and a wonderful voice.

"We have Venus flytraps, sundews, pitcher plants and butterworts," Mairon explained, pointing at the plants in question. "If none of those are to your liking, I'd recommend succulents–they may seem less... spectacular, if you will, but make good companions for your cacti."

"What do they eat?" the goth guy asked, eyeing the carnivorous plants with open curiosity; to Mairon's relief, they seemed to have sufficiently piqued his interest.

"Mostly insects. Some species eat reptiles and small mammals as well, but the ones we have here are... well, not big enough for that."

"Do they also eat... like... noodles? Cake? Or chocolate?"

Mairon simply stared at him for a few seconds. Never in his life, not even once, had he even thought about such things, let alone found an answer to the questions he was now being asked.

What a weirdo.

But still kind of cute...?

For the time being, he couldn't quite decide.

"Umm... I'd say it's probably best if you just let them catch insects and not feed them any weird stuff," he replied eventually.

"Alright."

The goth guy studied the plants for a few more seconds before picking one of the sundews, then turned around to look at Mairon. It seemed as though he was going to say something, but was hesitant to do so.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Yeah. Well, no. Umm, it's just..."

He glanced at the name tag on Mairon's green shirt.

"I, uh... I saw earlier that you're closing soon and I was wondering if you'd like to grab a coffee with me or something... Mairon."

His name sounded lovely on his lips, Mairon decided, but wasn't fully convinced yet. He leaned against the nearest display table and crossed his arms.

"Firstly, I don't even know your name–"

"Melkor."

The goth guy named Melkor flashed him a crooked grin.

"–and secondly, don't you think it's a little late for coffee?"

"Ah... hm, well..."

He averted his gaze with a sheepish expression.

"You're right. And, uh, sorry if that was weird, I just... umm... yeah. Also totally cool if you don't want to."

It's not even the weirdest thing you've done, Mairon thought. A small smile of amusement brightened his expression as he watched Melkor's increasingly awkward attempts at playing it cool.

Damn, he's actually cute. Especially when he's flustered. Lucky him...

"Hey, it's alright," he finally broke the silence. "And you know what, I'm down. Just not coffee at 7 pm and while I'm wearing a dirty old shirt with pollen, petals and leaves all over it."

Melkor laughed, clutching the sundew with one hand and sheepishly scratching his head with the other. "Fair enough. So, uh, does that mean I get your number?"

"It does."

Mairon threw his hair over his shoulder and walked over to the register, swiftly snatching a business card from Yavanna's stack and a pen to write down his number below. When he looked up again to hand it over, he was met with Melkor smiling at him–the happiest, goofiest and somehow most adorable smile he had seen in a while. Before he knew it, he was reciprocating in kind.

By the time he had successfully scanned the plant, Melkor had already placed the money on the counter and was in the process of gently putting his new little friend in a bag.

"Keep the change–just in case you need some coffee after all," he said with a wink.

"Thanks!"

A brief moment of silence ensued, both of them awkwardly smiling at each other, until Melkor mumbled a small "Gonna text you later" and left the shop, waving one more time as he went past the window.

Mairon propped himself up on his elbows and leaned on the counter. Who would've thought he would end up giving his number to a man wearing a middle finger shirt? Either way, he certainly couldn't complain about boring work hours now.

It was only then that he realised he was still smiling.

⛧°｡⋆༺♱༻⋆｡°⛧

And sure enough, during his break the next day he found a text from an unknown number. It was a picture of a sundew in a skull-shaped pot, with a fly stuck on one of its leaves and a caption reading "first catch!".

Mairon couldn't help smiling at Melkor's enthusiasm, yet before he could reply another text popped up–

"anyway what does a mairon eat?"

I'm gonna go out with the weirdest goth guy in town, aren't I.

And I'm looking forward to it too.

... He's so lucky he's cute.

taglist: @angbangweek @asianbutnotjapanese @edensrose @eunoiaastralwings @floraroselaughter @i-did-not-mean-to @singleteapot

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elennalore · 1 year

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Devotion (865 words, rated M)

My ficlet for @angbangweek Day 6. Prompt: Temples | Sacrifice.

Characters: Khamûl, Mairon.

Gen with background Melkor/Mairon.

Summary: Young Khamûl spies on the God-King in a temple and becomes his unexpected confidant.

I hope it is still okay to post this for Angbangweek even though it became Khamûl’s origin story in the end! But there is Melkor/Mairon, too.

Read it below or on Ao3.

From his watching place behind one of the pillars, Khamûl saw the foreign man die. He saw the light of the Sun flash from the polished surface of the golden sickle as it cut the air and then – the man’s exposed throat. The foreign man had been screaming a moment before, but now he gave a strange gurgling sound as his blood sprayed onto the altar stone and his life left him. His body, held by two temple servants, twitched once or twice before it went limp and still. In a moment it was over, there was no more blood to offer to the stone; the golden sickle was withdrawn. In absolute silence, the servants bowed and retreated, dragging the body between them. They passed the pillar behind which Khamûl was hiding, but he was lucky, and they didn’t notice him. He dared to exhale only after they had left.

He could not hide from the God-King, however.

“I know you are there. Step forward, boy.”

His heart was pounding with fear, but even though he was just the butcher’s son and not a temple servant, he knew he should not hesitate when the God-King gave him a direct order. So, he came out of his hiding place and took a couple of steps on the mosaic floor, towards the altar. His eyes were fixed on the reddish rays of light on the floor – sunlight was coming through the tinted glass window. Then he remembered his manners and quickly prostrated himself before the God-King, his forehead touching cool mosaic tiles. He could not quite hear his steps, but somehow he knew that the God-King had come nearer.

“Rise.” The voice of the God-King sounded almost amused. Khamûl didn’t dare to look up.

“How long have you been here? How many sacrifices did you see?”

“Nine,” Khamûl admitted. “All of them.”

“And do you think it is enough?”

His eyes averted from a puddle of blood in front of the altar, still dripping down the smooth stone steps. “I don’t know. Perhaps, if it helps?”

The God-King laughed, and it was not a pleasant laugh at all. “If it helps to get him back – indeed! You must think of me as desperate, trying to get him back. And perhaps I am!”

“Never, my King!” Khamûl cried out, horrified. He had seen what the God-King did to heretics. Besides, he was not one. He had seen God-King’s powers and knew that he spoke the truth about the mighty Vala who was betrayed and cast into the Void.

The God-King came to sit down on the altar steps, careful to avoid the spots still dripping with blood, and gestured Khamûl to join him. He hesitated only for a moment. The God-King looked almost vulnerable all of a sudden. Khamûl was both attracted and scared of his attention. He didn’t dare to look on his left where the God-King was seated, a couple of steps higher than him. When a firm hand came to rest on his shoulder, all fear left him, though. He knew that the God-King sought for connection, or maybe a listener.

“I loved him,” The God-King said after a long pause, his voice heavy with emotion. “Melkor made me what I am today. He taught me everything and opened his heart to me. And they took him away from me! They hurt him and pushed him outside the borders of Arda!”

A soft palm, unnaturally warm, cupped Khamûl’s chin and turned his head so that he was forced to meet those strange burning eyes.

“I will do anything to get him back. Do you believe me?”

Khamûl watched the passion burn in the immortal eyes and shivered. “I believe you,” he assured him.

The God-King studied him with great interest. No one had watched Khamûl like that before, as if he had really seen the restless spirit hiding behind his eyes – his true self.

“You don’t fear me.” The words were said in an admiring voice. A little smile flickered across the God-King’s face. “Not like the others.”

To his surprise, Khamûl realized that it was so. He had feared the God-King before –they all did– but now the feeling had changed into something else. “It’s true, my King.”

The God-King cocked an eye at him. “And what do you think of me then?”

Khamûl thought about it. “You have a passionate heart, and you love your Vala a lot.”

The God-King let go of his chin and laughed again, but his laughter sounded less desperate this time.

“I like you, boy. Would you like to come with me when I leave your city? For I must go away one day. There’s more work to do.”

“Yes,” he said without thinking.

The God-King smiled again, and Khamûl wondered if this devotion he felt in his heart was the same the God-King felt towards Melkor. There was a twinkle in his King’s eye as he leaned forward to whisper something in Khamûl’s ear. His ceremonial robes smelled of smoke and ash and blood.

“My real name is Mairon,” he revealed a secret, the first of the many between them, and Khamûl’s heart leapt with unexpected joy.

#Angbangweek2023 #mairon #angbang #khamul #my fic #silm fic #sauron #tar-mairon #khamûl #melkor

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maironsbigboobs · 1 year

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A little drabble I wrote for @angbangweek Day 4: The Void. Alas, I did not have time to write as much as I wanted, but here it is.

(Rated G, approx. 500 words)

The Void welcomes Mairon the Admirable, at the end of all things.

The pain was gone. That was a strange sensation. He had been full of pain and anger for so long that it was almost alien to be free of it.

He was free of everything. Free of the decaying, rotting fana he had shaped for himself; it was a pleasant feeling, to be houseless fëa again, to be weightless and formless.

He had always thought he would dread the Void. In his fears it had been a dark, cold place. Not dark like his own Shadow, but empty and lifeless, no hint of the creation he adored - and adored it he had, even as his will had bent to destruction. Sauron had not forgotten Mairon the Maia, whose voice had rung in the first choir of the world, who had loved creation so dearly it had driven him to try and better it.

Mairon, who he was no more. Mairon who had loved his lord and master so dearly that he had not been able to shake the shackle of his ambition. If he had loved his lord less, perhaps he would have come crawling back to Aulë’s halls, humiliated and ashamed but repentant. Almost always, he had chosen self-preservation, he had borne shame and insult and worse in the pursuit of his goals. But forsaking his master’s love and slinking back to his murderers? That even Sauron could not do. The Valar had cast his beloved lord into the vast empty Void, and with him all hope of Sauron’s return.

But as his spirit was swallowed by the darkness, and Sauron attempted to get his bearings, he found the Void was not as he feared. The darkness embraced him, warm, almost fatherly. It stirred a long distant memory in his spirit, the memory of something he would not name.

It directed him. It did not drop him into the Void; it placed his spirit tenderly, like setting a babe in a cradle. Sauron was not afraid, as he looked upon the endless expanse of Nothing.

But it was not Nothing. Ahead of him, there was light. A blue flame burning. It called to him. He did not resist. His spirit sped towards it, hardly daring to hope that it would be what he hoped - who he hoped. As he drew near it, the flame grew, bigger and brighter. It was not a flame at all, but a spirit. The very spirit that was part of his, that had been sundered from him for two Ages of the world. As Sauron’s spirit trembled before it, in awe and trepidation, it spoke into his mind.

Oh, that voice. How long he had waited to hear it.

That voice, thick and rich and warm. The softness in it that had always been saved only for him. The quiet hint of grief, for his fallen maia, but joy too, that they were at last reunited. Sauron knew that voice.

“Welcome home, my little maia.”

Their spirits melded together, and Mairon wept.

#Angbangweek2023 #angbangweek2023 #angbang #melkor #mairon #my fic

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i-did-not-mean-to · 1 year

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Anbang Week - Day 1

@angbangweek: @cilil said "jump", so here I go...

Words: 150

Characters: Mairon (&Melkor)

Warnings: Nothing

At that very first note of discordance and defiance, creating an echo that would resonate forevermore, Mairon realised that he had ears to hear and eyes to see.

All that had hitherto been mere flux and placidity suddenly became sharp and tangible—he became aware of his own existence in its myriad possibilities and limitations, and he yearned to discover more.

As he watched Melkor, he longed for so many things—time to keep pace of his mighty song and space to be filled by it—and it seemed to him that all that became only served to frame and enhance this Vala’s endless glory.

Looking down at his hands which he now consciously sensed—heavy with purpose and tingling with eagerness—trembling at the end of his arms, Mairon vowed that he would work hard to aid in the construction of a world that would be worthy of Melkor.

Gif by me lol

So, there it is, first entry :)

#og post #IDNMT writes #fanfiction #writing #tolkien writing #jrrt #angbangweek2023 #angbang week 2023 #angbang #Mairon #Melkor #Day 1

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satan-chillin · 1 year

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Escort

Mairon unknowingly summoned an Incubus after fucking up a Latin phrase. (Modern AU w/ Incubus Melkor & Human Mairon)

For Angbang Week Day 7: Alternative Universe

Also in Ao3

❅ ❅ ❅

“So where did you two meet?”

Mairon was close to rolling his eyes at the nth time this evening that he was asked that question. To be fair, the easiest answers would either be: I just met him two hours ago or I’m pretty sure he’s an escort someone hired for me out of pity. By my brother. Probably.

“... In my neighborhood,” was what he said instead. It wasn’t even a lie.

“Oh!” The young woman exclaimed. Mairon did not know her name, but the face looked familiar. Might be from Melian’s obnoxious circle of friends in her senior year. Mairon didn’t particularly care. “A distant relative of a neighbor then? Talk about a cute coincidence.”

Mairon was pretty sure it was creepy.

Unwittingly, he watched Melkor—was that even his true name or a professional one—across the gym-cum-event hall flocked by what appeared to be a mix of annoyingly familiar faces of former classmates and some who were supposed to be a couple of years ahead of Mairon’s batch back in high school. The reunion clearly said batch ‘94, and yet it appeared to be thoroughly disregarded if he was seeing people who had no right to be there. Talk about a very disorganized event.

Someone must have asked Melkor about his hair care, which prompted the man to charmingly run his fingers across his loose ponytail. Begrudgingly, Mairon had to admit that it was a very silky-looking hair; not that he’d know how it felt personally. As if sharing a deeply-personal secret, Melkor leaned slightly to the woman who asked, grinning conspiratorially and gesturing vaguely toward Mairon’s direction with a wink.

Mairon swung a huge gulp of the punch and pretended he didn’t see that.

He heard his unwanted companion giggle. Mairon had almost forgotten about her, and he wished that he honestly had. The night was starting to wear him thin, and there was no small part of him that kept wanting to know why the hell he was here in this first place when he had been adamant to disregard the email invitations, had muted the group chat he was added in, and had completely ignored the texts asking him to be there.

But of course, there would be that one from Curumo—and he really should have blocked his number already—asking him to come.

Dad will be there, you know, and since you keep refusing his invitation for dinner, you might as well give him this. Think of it as a family reunion, if that will make it easier to bear.

Oh, but it didn’t, and already Mairon’s stomach was churning at the thought of coming across his brother who was fortunately on some thankless duty of keeping the classrooms off limits, and his father who was a former home economics and livelihood instructor in this school and had been one of Mairon’s unbearable teachers for that one year. He knew his father hadn’t arrived yet, but once he did and he saw Mairon—

“Hey, everything okay?”

Mairon did not notice the looming figure approach, and next thing he knew, Melkor was hovering over him, concerned, from the looks of it. At Mairon’s silence, he sighed indulgently, prying the half-empty punch from him and setting it down somewhere before encircling Mairon loosely with his arms, a comforting weight settling atop his head as he was pushed against Melkor’s chest.

Vaguely, Mairon heard someone clearing her throat and excusing herself with a giggle.

“She’s gone.”

“Good.”

Melkor, for some reason, still wouldn’t let him go after a beat.

“... You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Mairon grumbled.

There was a rumble of a chuckle that, no, definitely didn’t make him fond. “Shouldn’t I be asking that? You’re making me believe I’d make an incredibly striking safety blanket.”

“Mm. Very humble too.”

Melkor answered Mairon’s scowl with a shit-eating grin that flashed a sharp incisor that shouldn’t be that attractive.

The sensible and often winning part of Mairon’s brain was convinced that he shouldn’t be this close with a stranger in a place where he hardly felt healthy for his sanity, not to mention during an anxiety-inducing evening. Except, that logical part was apparently dormant and was planning to sleep away the night at the back of his head.

“I still didn’t know where you came from,” Mairon huffed, mostly to reprimand himself rather than chide Melkor specifically. “I didn’t know escorts do door-to-door.”

The taller man raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten already?”

“Forgot what?”

At Melkor’s growing confusion, Mairon racked his head if he had honestly forgotten something. He knew that he hadn’t forgotten if he had made a Craigslist post for a rentable plus one for the school reunion; he wasn’t that low. Yet.

“Truly?” Melkor asked at the lengthening span of inquisitive silence. “Curious.”

That smirk better not mean that he was some deranged stalker who had banked on Mairon’s desperation.

“Is this going to end up with me on a slab in pieces?” Mairon asked flatly.

Melkor scoffed. “In pieces? Where’s the fun in that? Bloodplay can be arranged, and, yes, I wouldn’t mind laying you on some slab, if that’s a specific preference.”

“What?”

“Haven’t you figured it out, dear? I’d rather end this evening with you flat on your back.” He didn’t seem amused at Mairon’s blank stare. “Oh, come on, what’s even the purpose of summoning an Incubus if not to get laid?”

“A what?”

Melkor sighed. “Fine. It’s not fun if it's not consensual.”

“Excuse me, what the fu—”

“Ah, Mairon.”

They both turned to the new voice, and Mairon wished he hadn’t if it would mean not seeing his father’s—Aulë’s perpetual disappointed look whenever he was addressing Mairon.

Gods, one would think he had gotten desensitized to it after all these years. Mairon fought against the ingrained behavior to keep his posture straight and to keep steady eye contact, the urge to please and present himself in a manner that was expected of him. It had been two decades since he left the house and broke all communication, for fuck’s sake.

Melkor had beaten him to it, however, standing to his full height though keeping a loose hand around Mairon’s shoulders, something which he appreciated. To Aulë, Melkor inclined his head with a less rakish grin and a more business-like smile as he offered a handshake, outright ignoring the frown that Aulë had as his way of greeting. Aulë hesitantly accepted it, though not without sparing a glance toward Mairon.

“Mr. Smith,” Melkor said brightly. “Mairon told me so much about you.”

Mairon did not, but, just his luck, Curumo took it as a chance to whisk him away and leave Aulë and Melkor to it.

“Don’t worry, he won’t eat him,” was what his brother whispered, “He’ll probably just interrogate him. The usual.”

“I don’t even know what the ‘usual’ is,” Mairon replied testily. “Also, I didn’t notice you coming with him.”

“And I thought nothing gets past you,” Curumo shot back. “Don’t tell me it’s because of him. How well do you even know that guy?”

He knew Melkor for less than a day, which meant not at all. In lieu of his brother being up in his business: “I know him well enough.”

“Do you now?” Curumo challenged. “If I don’t know any better, I’d say he’s some shady guy you can hire online, or a random hookup.” He grimaced. “He better not be from that Palantíri dating app. They don’t do background checks on their users.”

Maybe the better question was how the hell his uptight brother even knew that dating site.

“God forbid—he’s not your sugar dad, is he? He looks right about that age.”

Mairon would rather not deign answer that one. Scathingly, he threw him a dirty look. “Good thing you know better then.”

“Yes, I do.” Wearily, Curumo sighed. They were a little distant from where Melkor and Aulë were, where Mairon should be close enough to mitigate any disaster Melkor might unwittingly cause. He couldn’t be that lucky in a single night. “Which is why I know you’ll be here as well. I don’t blame you for leaving, to be honest. Dad…” He pursed his lips before continuing, “While he could have unreasonable expectations of us at times, you know he isn’t that bad.”

Mairon had heard of worse fathers, true, except, in the first place, it wasn’t supposed to be a competition of who was the worst. He had felt trapped in his childhood home, with unbearable loneliness that had come along with not being understood fully. Aulë had tried, that much he could admit, but speaking to him had been a chore in itself when he had not listened.

“He’s getting better now, if you can believe it,” Curumo said. “Auntie Yavanna is a positive influence on him, I think.”

Mairon could only guess that this Yavanna was Aulë’s girlfriend, and the fact that Curumo was calling her ‘Auntie’ was a glowing endorsement.

“You should meet her,” was what he said next, much to Mairon’s surprise (not). “It’s their anniversary next Friday. I’ll text you the details of where and what time.”

Spoken like someone who would not take no for an answer. Mairon was tempted to give a short refusal out of pure spite, but upon daring to glance past Curumo, he thought he saw Aulë’s increasingly disapproving stare toward Melkor the longer he listened to him speak.

Well.

As if sensing who Mairon was looking at, his brother added, a tad exasperated, “Yes, you can bring him.”

“Fantastic,” Mairon replied with a fake cheer. Still, he couldn’t resist the grin he knew Curumo feared, widening ever slightly at the subtle gulp he received in turn. “We’ll be there.”

❅ ❅ ❅

“Your brother must be a better conversationalist than your father,” Melkor observed languidly as he loosened his tie and popped the top buttons of his shirt. “Your father, on the other hand, must be fun at parties.”

“You should see my brother at parties too. They make quite a pair.”

“Does that make you the black sheep?”

Mairon snorted. “Maybe.”

That god-awful reunion was finally over, though not without the added torture of encountering former classmates and schoolmates. Melian and her himbo boyfriend-turned-husband, Thingol, were not particular favorites, and if Melian hadn’t seen him first, Mairon would have gone the other direction without exchanging painful pleasantries. Melkor, bless him, drove the small talk at least, and by driving he meant giving off a peculiar vibe that seemed to have offended Melian’s sensibilities before politely excusing herself and her husband.

Overall, the chaffing evening was not as bad as he had expected.

Mairon paused on his way to his car before taking out his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

He was willing to offer a free ride at least, but an extra was well-deserved for dealing half an hour with his father.

“For?”

“For the night.” Mairon hesitated. “This is the first time I rented an escort. I don’t know how this works exactly. Do you have a fixed rate?”

Melkor considered him. “I thought we’ve established that I’m not one. As I said, you summoned an Incubus, and I’m here to serve.”

“Look, I don’t care what you call yourselves in your agency. And no need to sell it to me; it worked, and that’s what matters. So I have to pay you.”

“Did I do a good job at least?” Melkor asked amusedly.

“Yes,” Mairon bit out. It was a damn good job, but he wasn’t about to tell him that. He waved dismissively. “Send me an email if there’s a feedback form that I need to fill out. And.”

Should he say this soon that he would be needing his services on Aulë’s anniversary? It would be a smaller gathering and much more intimate for the family and close friends. It would be wise to let Melkor know now, but he might come across as desperate. Mairon loathed that hadn’t fostered enough amicable relationships with others to at least call some of them his acquaintances, if only for this kind of purpose.

Melkor raised an eyebrow expectantly. Patient.

It wasn’t hard to recognize how anyone easily found him handsome, and Mairon supposed if he was functioning normally, the evening could end up exactly how it had been proposed. But he wasn’t. Normal, that was. Not in the sense that he found anything remotely sexual to be fascinating or interesting in any way.

It was just… that.

Melkor hummed. “So that’s how it is.”

“What is?”

“You. Normally, I’d say it’s a challenge, but it is not. Not when it’s not something irrevocable. Besides, it does not make you less interesting to me.” Mairon barely noticed him stepping much closer. “Make a pact with me.”

“Or I can just pay you for your time like two normal people,” Mairon retorted.

“But there isn’t anything normal in this, wouldn’t you agree?” In a lower voice, he said, “Not that I’d oppose any kind of payment.”

Under the evening sky with a meager light from the peeking moon, Melkor’s eyes seemed to have taken two glowing rings that made him appear unnatural yet with a strange kind of beauty that Mairon couldn’t take his gaze from.

There was an edge of… something that must be bad if alarm bells were starting to ring in his head.

“What are you?” Mairon asked against better judgment.

“I told you.”

“A demon. Right. Forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

Melkor huffed, crossing his arms defensively. Mairon thought he saw a flash of sharp black nails. “I’m not the one who fucked up his Latin and summoned me here by mistake.”

Wait.

“You ass—I just joined that class last week! I’m sorry if my Latin is not yet perfect.”

“I figured you’d be more indignant to be called out on your mistake compared to letting you know that you do have an actual demon in your hands,” Melkor said dryly. “Why you even want to learn a dead language is beyond me. I thought your kind had more common sense in this era.”

“Fuck off,” Mairon muttered. “I’m still not convinced.”

“Very well.”

One moment, Mairon was standing in the parking lot, and the next, overwhelming darkness clouded his senses, save for the sensation of a firm hold around his waist and the dizzying whip of wind.

When Mairon blinked his eyes open, he was at the front door of his apartment.

“Holy shit.”

Melkor’s face was unbearably smug. “I told you.”

Mairon immediately went to the nearest bin and promptly threw up. After what sounded to be a lifetime of retching his guts out, he stared at Melkor once more who remained unfazed and was in fact holding out a dark napkin that he grudgingly took.

Then, with the most serious yet that he had seen him tonight, repeated to Mairon: “Make a pact with me.”

“No.”

“Not even for Friday?”

“... What does this pact entail?”

“Nothing,” Melkor replied with the smoothness of a seasoned liar. “Just that it has to be sealed.”

Mairon was gripped with an urge to flee when Melkor once again stepped closer and very much into his personal space this time. Not that Mairon could do anything against a demon if he so wished to eat him alive.

He instead felt a pair of lips touching his forehead lightly, landing with a peck.

“There,” Melkor said with a lopsided grin before pulling back. “I’ll come find you on Friday, Mairon.”

Melkor turned and whistled a tune where the tail on his retreating back swished happily along with the beat before vanishing in a wisp of dark smoke.

Mairon was certain that he just signed his soul away.

Fuck.

#angbang week 2023 #angbangweek2023 #sauron #mairon #melkor #morgoth #silm fanfic #angbang #fanfic

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neldeathstar · 1 year

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Dark Awakening

A headcanon Angbang shortcomic for Angbang Week 2023, day 1.

The Maiar wake up for the first time and meet their future masters...but someone sneaked into the timeless halls during the Ainulindale before Eru allowed it...

With his secret gift Melkor gave Mairon a free will. I hope you like it ❤️

The Maiar/Umaiar on this panel are, row behind (l to r): Eonwe and Lungorthin, row front: Aiwendil, Osse, Gothmog, Curumo

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thelien-art · 1 year

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Day 5 of @angbangweek

Dagor Bragollach | Nirnaeth Arnoediad

I took some liberties with the prompt for today and chose to pick Melkor and Mairon after Luthien and Beren's theft of the Silmaril, as that happened right between Dagor Bragollach and Nirnaeth Arnoediad.

#tolkien #jrr tolkien #silmarillion #melkor #morgoth #mairon #sauron #angbang #angbangweek #angbangweek2023 #silm art #my art #digital art

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angbangweek · 1 year

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Here are the dates for this year’s upcoming Angbang Week event. We chose to keep them the same as last year’s – 1st-7th of May – for the sake of convenience and simplicity. Any and all participation is welcome! If you have any questions, feel free to send them in the form of an ask or a DM. The list of prompts will be posted tomorrow!

#Angbang #Mairon #Melkor #Sauron #Morgoth #AngbangWeek2023 #Angbang Week 2023 #Silmarillion #The Silmarillion #Fandom Event

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gerardspuppy · 1 year

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@angbangweek day two - spring of arda

ft the return of hippie mairon bc he’s very special to me

#angbangweek2023 #angbang #melkor #mairon #the silmarillion #my art #im so. tired. hjjhg

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gufettogrigio · 1 year

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Ancalagon doesn't say hoard because to hoard is to keep, to hoard is selfish and yes, dragons are selfish by nature. His Master is selfish too. But you see, if your hoard starts with a gift, you’ll always remember that the most precious things are given, not stolen.

For @angbangweek Days 6&7 Sacrifice & Alternate Universe (Canon Divergence).

#angbang #angbangweek2023 #fanfic #look at me I can actually still write!#these two have taken over my brain

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cilil · 1 year

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Day 1 Melkor ⋆⛧⋆ Mairon

Synopsis: A little flame catches Melkor's eye.

Warnings: /

Author's Note: My first ficlet for Angbang Week 2023. I'll be aiming for daily posts covering both prompts, one from Melkor's and one from Mairon's perspective. Links to the corresponding ficlet and my Angbang masterlist will be at the top and down below respectively. Hope you enjoy!♡

There were thousands more out there, spirits of all kinds whose voices echoed through the Timeless Halls like a distant, ever changing symphony, yet Melkor was alone. He sat at the very edge of their realm, staring into the Void and silently contemplating whether to venture out into the darkness again or continue to watch the other Ainur.

The greater and older spirits among them–those like his brother, though in his mind they still couldn't hope to compare to him–had begun to form pairs. He hadn't taken it seriously at first when Manwë began spending more and more time with Ulmo and Varda; in fact, Melkor had assumed his father's little favourite finally learned his lesson to leave him alone. But then he kept seeing him and Varda together even without Ulmo, saw Aulë with Yavanna, spotted several other pairs as well, and it occurred to him that they must've taken the One's words about love and companionship to heart.

Melkor scoffed at the thought. Unlike them, he needed no one, he had all the power, knowledge and talent to realise his visions on his own–at least once he found the Flame Imperishable and used it to give life to his creations.

Admittedly, he had contemplated what Eru had told them and taken a closer look at his peers. Out of the Great Spirits like him, only Varda seemed worthy of his consideration, brilliant and glowing with the Flame Imperishable's light as she was, just like him, but she had rejected his advances. Melkor had refused to be anywhere near her and Manwë since; there were strange feelings inside him, those he would later recognize as anger, shame and spite, and he couldn't comprehend why his brother had been chosen over him again, despite him being the greater of the two.

And so he had been by himself for a while now, doing his best to ignore the other Ainur and telling himself he didn't need anyone by his side anyway in an attempt to soothe his wounded pride, until–

A little flame caught his eye.

It was quite literally what the spirit that Melkor saw was, small compared to him and of fiery nature, full of ideas, creativity and wit. There was something unique about him, something that drew him out of his sulky mood and piqued his interest. He wanted to have a closer look, yet to his dismay, he saw the little flame with Aulë soon after. And again he felt like he had been cheated, like another had taken something that should be his.

Even so, Melkor kept watching the fire spirit and listened attentively whenever he sang to find out more about him. His songs were just as lovely as he had assumed they would be, he thought, pleased with his insight–but something was missing. It took him a while to figure out, yet in the end he was sure of it: There were more notes and melodies hidden within this Ainu's fëa that he didn't give voice to.

Is this Aulë's doing? Melkor wondered, his spirit darkening in anger once more. Were his peers now begrudging others the full splendour of their song, simply because they wanted it to fit theirs? He couldn't allow this, especially not in regards to the Great Music his father had told him about. No, he certainly wasn't going to hold back, and neither should his fellow Ainur.

And part of him was glad he now had an excuse to talk to the little flame.

His little flame, if fate would be so kind.

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#Angbangweek2023 #Angbang Week 2023 #angbang #melkor #morgoth #mairon #sauron #melkor x mairon #melkor/mairon #ainur #silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #silm #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanworks #tolkien #cílil writes #my writing

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