#eeeeeh | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

i-did-not-mean-to · 2 years

Note

hi can I request a Russingon fic please? oblivious idiots in love. The stomach drop of one of them seem to have someone else or simply hear about them liking someone else (when it's the other they like). Then one of them going in for a kiss and when they both accidentally bump heads the one who went for the kiss can’t stop laughing at the insanity and other is just confused because they genuinely didn’t know he was going in for a kiss? Please?

Dear anon, you are officially the first person to send me a request for the Silm (and I hope you won't regret it...)

I have hummed and hawed about this...because I truly am not sure if my way of writing things can be applied to something as dignified as the Silm or it's venerable characters.

Nonetheless, I have tried...So...hmmm...here goes

Words: 2,1 k

Characters: Maedhros x Fingon (I've stuck with the general names lol, forgive me)

Warnings: this is still a slightly incestuous pairing (for those who do not know), also mlm...yeah, otherwise it's idiots in love with minor (very minor) injury

“Oh, there he comes now,” the young lady commented with a chuckle; she bent low over Fingon’s shoulder to make sure nobody else would overhear her teasing comment, “and he looks like he’s had an unpleasant time this far.”

“Hush,” Fingon hissed, willing his shoulders not to draw up defensively and fixing his eyes on the smooth curve of her jaw as he spoke to keep himself from turning around too quickly in his eagerness to see the one his eyes sought everywhere and at any moment.

He and this particular daughter of an excellent house had been fast friends for many years despite – or exactly because of – the fundamental differences in their nature and spirit; only just a moment ago, they had been chatting idly about their plans for the day and – one thing having led to another – the people they would most like to invite to a romantic picnic date.

With as much dignity as he had been able to muster, Fingon had shrugged as if the answer to that question had not been made painfully clear by the way his eyes had drifted over to the estate of his uncle.

“You are adorable,” she asserted in a jeering purr, “and so laughably obvious in your affections that nobody except his Flaming Majesty himself has noticed; actually, there’s bets on how long it will take the two of you to get together.”

Fingon rolled his eyes and gave her shoulder a playful push, hoping that this little gesture would be enough to distract from the heat rising to his face and the way his toes curled unconsciously, pushing him up just a tiny bit.

“Ah, standing a bit taller already?” his friend laughed and – breathing an encouraging kiss onto his cheek – she made to saunter away merrily. After having taken but a few light steps though, she turned around and informed him rather loudly – the serious tone belied by the sparkle in her eyes – that someone apparently wanted him.

Maedhros’ stomach dropped like a stone flung over the edge of a cliff, falling heavily until it was shattered at the bottom of the ravine.

Already, he just wanted to crawl back between the sheets and forget everything that had happened since he had opened his eyes; this far, Celegorm had vanished – again – and Caranthir was in an even fouler mood than usual, moreover, the twins had destroyed an invaluable creation of their father’s which did not benefit the overall mood in his home.

Seeing Fingon – beautiful, cheery, charming Finno – all but affixed to that slender, dainty creature took the cake though and the scowl cleaving the usual debonair beauty of his face would have made all his siblings cower in apprehension.

It was only to be expected that – being the oldest of his line – Fingon would sooner or later be on the lookout for an advantageous match, as should he himself, but knowing one’s duty and seeing it performed by the person one couldn’t bear to share with anyone else were two entirely different beasts to wrestle.

His half-cousin – who had just suffered a nauseatingly sweet kiss by the damsel – was dressed as if he had intended to stay outdoors for the remainder of the day and Maedhros wondered if he had perchance interrupted a romantic walk – he was ashamed of how satisfying that thought was to him – and promptly considered turning back, but Fingon had caught sight of him now and was crossing over to him with purposeful strides.

“Why so glum, dear cousin?” Fingon asked as he strolled up with a nonchalance that made Maedhros want to slap him, or hug him, or both, but preferably not at the same time.

He felt painfully inadequate – too tall, too lumbering, too broad – compared to the fragile, ethereal beauty whose pealing laughter echoed still in the calm, fragrant air.

“I…nothing,” Maedhros replied, scratching the back of his head, and wondering if it would please Fingon if he wore his hair in delicate braids like that shameless, presumptuous – but no, he was being unfair to her – lovely lady who had just left the stage.

“What are you up to then?” Fingon asked; he, for his part, was still mulling over the words of his friend. Had she spoken true? Did everyone know how he felt about someone who shared more than just his blood?

“I am going for a stroll.”

“That will end in murder?” Fingon kept his voice light, but there was an undercurrent of genuine worry slipping into his inflection now as he saw how dark Maedhros’ usually fair brow had grown. The impulse to smooth his palm over the lines of discontent like his mother wiped stains off marble counters with a wet cloth was almost overwhelming in its blazing intensity.

“Not really,” Maedhros replied with a smile that looked just the tiniest bit forced, “care to join me?”

They walked in silence, each one frantically trying to tame and quiet his muddled thoughts, for a long time until they reached a verdant hill, overlooking the city, on which they sat down, cursing themselves for not having brought any kind of refreshment on this surprisingly taxing excursion.

“Well met,” Fingon sighed happily nonetheless, tossing his flowing braids carelessly over his shoulder as he stretched out on the soft grass, “you’ve saved me from a conversation that was about to take a sour turn.”

“You did not look displeased,” Maedhros piped up quietly, “as a matter of fact, you looked perfectly…”

He swallowed the first slew of words that came to his mind – neither ‘handsome’ nor ‘enthralling’ would be conducive to keeping his unfortunate envy hidden – and swallowed heavily.

“Pleased,” he finished weakly, knowing full well that he had stated nothing of consequence or even meaning.

“I was pleased enough,” Fingon admitted, “until she started to pry into things that do not concern her.”

“Like what?”

Maedhros thought about it; the easiest way to rile Fingon up thus would have been to ask about his father’s dealings, allegiances, and future plans, or – worse – to express undue criticism on the subject of his younger siblings.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Fingon quipped.

“Turgon’s personality?” Maedhros retorted but made sure to nudge his elbow against the other’s ribs to stress the joking nature of his remark.

“My romantic entanglements,” Fingon declared with such a gravity that one might have thought that he was reading his last will and testament to an already mourning congregation.

“You can talk to me about it; I care about you greatly and I would not have you think that you must keep such things from me. Indeed, I am most invested in your…well-being. How dare you suggest otherwise?”

The struggle against the lump in his throat cost Maedhros a good part of his concentration and hence, he missed the quick side-glance of doubt and desperate hope his cousin shot him from the corner of his deep, soulful eyes.

“There’s nothing to report,” Fingon finally sighed after a moment of tense silence, “she was just teasing me about a perceived…infatuation.”

“Who is the lucky girl?” The words burned like acid, they stung like salt in a wound, they scraped like badly honed blades against chafed skin, yet Maedhros had to get them out lest he choke on the knot of dread and heartbroken disillusion firmly lodged in his throat.

The kiss might have been one of encouragement or a way to seal a courting agreement, and – recklessly brave – he would crawl through the shards of his own shattered heart before he’d turn away from the truth and take illusionary comfort in a lie.

“That’s just it…”

Fingon decided that it was probably best not to expand on the subject; it was not worth losing his best friend and most valued ally in the eternal cold war between their fathers over something as ideally essential – and practically inconsequential – as romantic love; he had given up on the mere hope of ever knowing that kind of happiness a long time ago.

When the moment came and duty called, his parents would choose a lady – of good birth, of even better standing, and of impeccable manners – for him to pledge his troth to and he would do his best to prove himself worthy of the trust they would put in him.

“That’s just what?” Maedhros leaned forward eagerly, shivering anticipation making his eyes gleam and his lips quiver; they had never really broached the subject before and – for better or for worse – he would learn now in what intangible realm Fingon’s preferences lay.

“It might not be a lucky girl.” The words were truncated, individual sighs sliding like ghosts into the warm air between them.

“Oh, stop it, she’d be incredibly, impossibly, unimaginably lucky to win your affections,” Maedhros protested vehemently.

Fingon tensed and the awful, bare, illicit truth was flung out in the open in one fell swoop.

“Russo, it’s not a girl!”

Everything froze. The waxing and waning itself was suspended as Maedhros blinked slowly.

This was worse – oh, so unbearably worse – than any woman he had ever imagined in the dark hours of his own misery; he knew the path sketched out for the both of them and he had been ready to commend Fingon on his sense of duty and honour, but, if he was to break with tradition and stay unreachable and unobtainable nonetheless, Maedhros knew not how he’d ever work up the courage to innocently bask in his radiant smile again.

“Oh, forgive me,” Fingon cried out when his half-cousin’s face did not melt into the warm smile of understanding and welcome he had so yearned for, “forget I ever said anything. I don’t want this to change things between us.”

“I stand by my word,” Maedhros ground out, “and I pray that this might indeed not change anything between us. No matter how much I’ll resent your future spouse for taking a spot denied to me in the heart of the one I hold dearest in my own, I shall strive to not let it cloud my better judgement. May you find happiness!”

And, even as he spoke the words, he knew that he’d lack the magnanimous strength to see the one he longed for hopelessly in the arms of someone similar enough to him to make him die of envy and yet so much better that it would kill him once more.

Fingon looked up and – reading the barely concealed misery in his cousin’s demeanour – he lifted his hand to cup the warm, marble cheek – kissed by specks of gold and his own devoted lips a thousand times over – in an effort to erase the needless anxiety that plagued that brilliant mind.

Maedhros melted into the touch, allowing himself this one last moment before his most intimate and best guarded dreams were dashed to pieces on the altar of bleak reality.

Straining up, Fingon tilted his face as he inched it closer…only to flinch back violently as Maedhros’ forehead – gleaming, strong, and as impressive as the rest of him – struck it with considerable force.

Upon seeing him rub long fingers across the quickly reddening point of impact, Fingon broke into resounding, joyous laughter that he didn’t manage to curb despite his best efforts to bite it back.

His cousin was now frowning again though, rubbing his brow gingerly and cocking his head slightly in a wordless expression of confusion.

“What are you trying to do? Knock the memory out of my head?” he grumbled, a stormy cast settling on his handsome features, “You need only say the word and I shall never bring it up again until your wedding day.”

“Oh, Russo,” Fingon wheezed and – steadying that cherished and truly dangerous skull with both his hands – he pressed a soft kiss onto the still slightly tense mouth, running the tip of his tongue along Maedhros’ lower lip in an effort to pacify the lingering tremors of high emotion, “do you not know who I am speaking of?”

“No, you have not shared any such insight with me,” Maedhros huffed but the breathy quality of his voice – whisps of silk and smoke hanging heavily in the following silence – destroyed any attempt at feigning real offense.

“One does not go tattle to the object of one’s deepest desires,” Fingon cackled, “oh, I always forget that you have only brothers and that these immensely important pieces of wisdom are not whispered to you by a grievously vexed sister in the middle of the night.”

“It seems to me,” Maedhros muttered, “that I should – for educational purposes of course – spend some time at your house so that Aredhel may impart her knowledge to me as well. Let’s hope she won’t try to knock it into my stubborn head as did her esteemed brother though.”

“Stay still, the urge overcomes me to kiss you again,” Fingon whispered, doing just that – with more insistence and all the tenderness he had reserved for his cousin all these years – leisurely, “if only to keep you from spouting further nonsense.”

So, this is then my first request for a new fandom...

@feanorianswelcome here is my take on fluff (it did fluff, easily)

@medusas-hairband @eunoiaastralwings @sorisooyaa

Friends, come comfort me, I am a wreck lol Panic is high now...hmmm...I'm such a wimp...

Either way, dear anon, I hope you liked this (at least a little). Thank you for the request, as you can see, I had a blast writing this ❤️❤️

If you did like this, please like and reblog/comment! Thank you ❤️