#feanorians x reader

[animatorweirdo]

Bodyguard From Another World

(A crack fic crossover between Silmarillion / Attack on Titan. Hope you like it)

Requested by @springfountain

Congrats on finishing your series anima! Great work on both of them👍So some crack idea for you:

A titan reader gets transported to Middle-Earth and has their right hand cut off during a fight. They look at Mae, a smug smirk on their face, and regenrate their hand saying "Imma make you real jealous now."

It would be lovely if you could write crack headcanon based on this for all Sons of Fëanor like you did with Raiden's handmaid.

Warnings: bad jokes, falling into a hole, reader being slightly lazy, losing limbs, (Maybe poor writing? It's a crack fic, who cares) growing back limbs, and more bad jokes.

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- You are not entirely sure how you got where you are now. 

- You remember it being some kind of scouting mission outside the walls. You and your team were safely chilling on a tree, taking a break, and then you found an interesting hole at the bottom of the tree. 

- You went to check it out since there were no Titans nearby, and then your team began to joke about rabbit holes and other worlds they read about in storybooks. 

- You were right in front of the hole, looking down and trying to see if you could see the bottom. Then, one of your teammates thought it would be a fun idea to smack you in the back, causing you to lose balance and fall into the hole. You were not quick enough to catch yourself in time, so you slipped in and fell into the bottomless hole screaming. 

- It happened so fast. You were blinded by the darkness and the ground beneath you was so slippery that you couldn’t catch onto anything to stop your violent sliding. Then, you saw light at the bottom and before you knew it, you were thrown out of the hole. 

- You violently rolled out of the hole. Thanks to your gear, you didn’t roll far and landed on your back. Groaning painfully on the ground, your back ached from the bruises and the dirt that covered the whole backside of your uniform. 

- When you recovered and sat up. You heard your teammate's shouts coming from the hole, but then to your fright and confusion, the tree suddenly started moving. It moved and twisted itself around, closing the hole and trapping you in the world you were now. 

- Luckily, the world you got trapped into was not so bad. There were no Titans, which was a huge plus. The only creatures you needed to worry about were orcs and some other type of creatures that tried to kill you, but honestly, you would take them any day than see another titan. 

- You found work in a guild that took bodyguard work and legal bounty jobs. It helped you get a place to live and get comfortable with your new life. 

- You sparsely used the 3DM gear since this world didn’t have a concept of using gas as a fuel. So, you had to count on your other skills to make yourself useful and earn good money in your job. 

- Even though you missed some of your friends. You didn't mind staying in this world. No Titans, no trauma. Even though orcs were just as troublesome and violent as titans, you preferred to fight someone of your own size than over ten-foot-tall monsters.  

- One day, your guild received a commission from the Noldor elves. Apparently, they needed more manpower to ensure the safety of a party that was to travel to another kingdom for a meeting. It had been a rough time for everyone, so it was understandable. You were picked into the group as you were one of the best fighters, and then you all were set to meet the elves for the time of the job.

- You didn’t pay attention when your group leader spoke with the tall red-haired elf, but when things were settled, you started your journey. You did take a chance to glance at all of them and figured they were the so-called sons of Feanor. 

- You would have preferred to go as quietly as possible but you then managed to catch up a conversation with a few of them. Apparently, you were quite short compared to others which caught their attention. You didn’t take kindly to that remark, but since they were taller than most in your group, you began to understand Captain Levi’s troubles, since he was the shortest man in the scout regiment. 

- The elf named Maglor was pleasant to talk to. You learned many interesting things about elves from him and you shared a few stories of your adventures with him. 

- The elf named Celegorm sometimes butted in, judging your size and experiences. They were just some jabs, and you were okay with him most of the time. 

- You didn’t converse with Curufin much. But you did notice that he seemed shorter than most of his brothers, and when he sent you a jab, you kinda of teased his height which then earned glares from him. 

- You mostly respectfully kept your distance from Caranthir. It’s not that you were afraid of him or his rumored temper. There was just nothing that could have sparked a discussion, and you both were fine with that.

- Surprisingly, you got quite well along with the twins. They heard your tease toward Curufin, and now you had been talking with them most of the journey. What was even better was that they seemed to share your sense of humor.

- You were quite laid back and nonserious. Your group leader often scolded you for slacking, and that seemed to have made a poor impression on the oldest of the brothers, Maedhros. 

- He even joined in the scolding and asked you to take things more seriously. 

- You knew how to be serious when needed, but when there were no immediate dangers, you saw no reason to be serious. 

- Maedhros then remarked that your lack of preparations during jobs will end up bringing you great harm and blah, blah, blaa. 

- Little did they know that you did not need to worry about injuries and such since you had regenerative abilities. 

- You were actually a titanshifter. You just managed to keep it hidden from your friends and the scout regiment and avoid receiving serious injuries that could have given you away. 

- Your guild knew about your abilities since you had ended up in a situation where you lost a leg and grew it back to save someone. 

- They were quite accepting, to your relief, and you might have confessed to them about your other abilities. They were curious but respectful since there was no need for you to shift into your titan form. 

- That was one of the reasons why you preferred to live in this world. You do not want to imagine the mess you would create if the scout regiment knew about your secret. 

- You continued sending jabs at Maedhros when he continued scolding you and then came a day when a large group of orcs attacked you. 

- It was a sudden ambush, even though, you all succeeded in fending off the attack. You protected the tall red-haired elf from a sneak attack and lost half of your right arm in the process. 

- The pain was nothing you had not experienced before, but it did send Maedhros in panic when he saw your bleeding arm. 

- But then you grinned at him. 

- “I’m about to make you real jealous right now,” you said. 

- He looked at you confused until you used your ability to regrow your arm.  

- Let’s just say, the look on his face was priceless. 

- Your group leader was quick to explain that you had such an ability, then forced you to apologize for making it a spectacle. 

- You apologized, and then you earned more reactions from his brothers. 

Maedhros 

- He would still be quite frightened and perhaps a little traumatized to see your once cut-off hand now grow back. 

- He was quite relieved that the leader of your group explained your ability and that it was normal for you to grow back your limbs. 

- Your group leader seemed pissed off for the remark you made and made you apologize for the show, which Maedhros gradually accepted. 

- Let’s just say, Maedhros did not underestimate you again and left you on your own things even if you still slacked off. 

Maglor

- He would be shocked, but then curious about your ability. 

- He would inquire a lot about it and question if you had more than one time ended up losing a limb during your adventures. 

- You were happy to explain it to him and that you could heal your wounds. 

- He might have gotten new song ideas about you, and couldn’t wait to get started with them once he got home. 

Celegorm 

- He would most likely be surprised and then impressed by your ability. 

- He would ask what other things you could grow back and probably found your remark toward Maedhros funny.  

Curufin 

- Shocked and will most likely try to make sense of your ability and why would a human possess such an ability. 

- Will not confront you about, and will most likely stay away from you. He’s hella weary of you now. 

- Does not enjoy when Celegorm makes strange scenarios and questions about it. 

Caranthir 

- Definitely, the one who will most likely be the most weirded out by your ability. 

- You two do not talk, but now he will most likely look your way and try to see if you could do other weird things. 

- He will most likely start doubting if you are even a human. 

- He is weary of you but does respect how you defended Maedhros. 

Ambarussa 

- Not too weirded out by your ability since they have probably seen stranger things. 

- Will ask questions and be amazed by other things you could do. 

- Would probably laugh if you asked Maedhros if he needed a hand with your severed arm.

- You are pretty unhinged with your sense of humor.

#silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien #middle earth x reader #silm fic #silmarillion imagines #middle earth #middle earth imagines #feanorians x reader #crack fic #aot #aot crossover #attack on titan

[elficially-done-with-life]

You Are Beautiful To Me

Pairing: Caranthir x fem!Reader

Summary: Celegorm and Curufin are mean to Caranthir because of the way he looks and you try to make him feel better.

Warnings: self-doubt (with a happy ending)

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Caranthir's cheeks were flaming red as he hid in his room.

Celegorm and Curufin had been teasing him all afternoon, and that was only because they wanted to know how red his cheeks could get if they just kept going for long enough.

They had both laughed and found it incredibly funny, while Carathir's self-confidence and any respect he had for himself had sunk further and further.

Then he had hit rock bottom. He had started to cry.

It was only then that both Celegorm and Curufin had looked at him with concern, but the damage had already been done. Caranthir had run away and hid and he had no intention of ever leaving his room again. If they found him so ugly, they would never have to see him again.

After all, his presence seemed to bother them so much, perhaps it would be better if he was simply no longer there.

Then he suddenly heard a soft noise, like a gust of wind, and his window flew wide open and you came stumbling in somewhat inelegantly.

"Celegorm would not tell me where you were, so I decided to look for you myself," you said, "And, well, there was a light on in your window, so I thought you were- "

And that's when your eyes fell on his cheeks, smeared with tears.

"Cara, what- ? "You paused and seemed to think until you suddenly seemed to realise something, "Oh, I will throw Celegorm out of a window the next time I see him!"

Towards the end of the sentence, your voice became softer and softer, and you slowly moved closer to Caranthir until you knelt on the ground in front of him.

"What did they say this time?" you asked quietly, looking at him lovingly.

Caranthir looked up slowly, only to drop his gaze again as he felt even more warmth rise in his cheeks.

"The usual," he mumbled a little too shyly. When it came to his appearance, it could make him very insecure, but whereas with other people he got angry, with you he became very shy.

You gently reached out and put your hand under his chin to get him to look at you.

Caranthir's face was flushed red and his normal skin was barely distinguishable from his freckles.

Slowly, you moved your hand from his chin to his cheek and gently stroked it with your knuckles.

"You are beautiful, Cara," you murmured, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his middle and pull him closer to you. Then you leant forward and began to place gentle kisses on his cheeks where his tears had run down.

"You think so?" asked Carathir, who didn't look like he had much energy left to argue with you.

"Yes, I am more than sure. "You pushed your hands further up and began to stroke them through his hair. "You are the most beautiful person in the world."

With a tired sigh, Caranthir let his head fall onto your soft chest and snuggled up to you.

You giggled softly, a sound that had a soothing effect on him.

You just sat there for a while, enjoying each other's warmth. Again and again Caranthir asked if you meant everything you said, and each time you felt your heart break a little for him.

"Oh Cara, I- "

"So you don't think it would be better if I didn't exist?" he asked nervously.

You gently pressed a kiss to his hair. "I would not want to live in a world without you."

"And if you just forgot about me?" Caranthir murmured lightly.

"Firstly, that will not happen and secondly, I would still know that a part of me is missing." you whispered. "I love you."

Caranthir buried his face deeper into your chest. "I love you too."

After a while, you heard footsteps approaching the door and then Celegorm's voice from outside asking, "Can we talk?" He sounded a little embarrassed. Good. Maybe that would stop him from being mean to Caranthir in future.

"We're really sorry. We didn't mean to hurt you," Curufin said, who was apparently standing next to Celegorm.

"Should I go out and fight for your honour?" you asked quietly, but Caranthir shook his head as he laughed softly.

"Just ignore them," he muttered. "I do not wish to talk about it anymore today. I will talk to them tomorrow."

"If you say so," you whispered, "should I stay here tonight?"

"I would love that." he whispered back.

#caranthir #caranthir x reader #tolkien #tolkien x reader #x reader #fluff #silmarillion x reader #silm #silmarillion #elves x reader #feanorians #feanorians x reader

[just-some-water-lillies]

Sometimes when i think about Maglor wondering the edge of the sea, i imagine him remembering his life before the oath. All the memories of growing up with his family, and all the silly things they did was kids. The time when everyone was happy and free of trauma. A time before he had blood on his hands. A time before his father went mad with rage. A time before he slowly lost each brother. A time before he wasn't the last living son of Feanor.

#maglor #feanorians #silmarillion #maglor deserved better #feanorians x reader #maglor x reader

[maedhrosisbae]

So Hozier’s song “From Eden” really makes me think of a Feanorian talking to their Middle Earth lover!

Like, “Honey, you’re familiar Like my mirror years ago” is them pointing out their innocence and, “idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword, innocence died screaming, Honey ask me I should know,” is them telling their lover of the horrors of Middle Earth and then atrocities they had committed.

Then, when he says, “I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door,” that’s them offering an olive branch to their lover, saying they left heavenly Aman just to be with them.

#feanorians #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #Feanorians x reader

[eunoiaastralwings]

Hello Mellon, I completely missed your last request opening so I am glad I can catch this one.

Maglor x Reader since I am on my Maglor obsession atm.

Pure unfiltered fluff were the Reader catches Maglor up late working on a song which he is getting stressed over because he doesn't know how to finish it and the Reader is trying to get Maglor in Bed so he can sleep, and ends up staying with him and cuddling while talking until they both eventually fall asleep.

Thank you very much!

featuring maglor x reader

fandom tolkien- the silmarillion

a/n here you go —I really hope you like it hun! also take a look at this artwork by @mysandwichranaway that inspired a scene here!

You sat up on the bed.— you felt frustrated, tossing and turning for who knows how long and it was well into the night.

Something bothered you — so when you looked over to find your husband's side of the bed empty— you knew exactly why.

With an annoyed groan, you swung your legs over the bed and stood up— now determined to find him.

You didn't care to cover yourself up— your thin robe barely covered you but it was easier to sleep in. Besides you were only travelling to the adjacent room  — dedicated to your husband’s music.

You opened the door not bothering to knock and entered.

“Kano. . .”

You sighed —when you saw him hunched over his desk — scribbling on a piece of paper — lots of others discarded on the ground.

What a waste  — you mentally thought — trying not to be angry.

Even during the years of courtship and even before that —it greatly annoyed you. 

He littered the ground with scrunched up papers with lyrics  — that his opinion just weren’t right.

But you learned to accept it — he was greatly spoiled by this brother and parents  — and not to mention he accepted the things you did that annoyed him too.

You sighed again — then made your way over to where your husband stand.

He hummed in reply — face scowled and in concentration as he wrote.

But again — he scribbled and scratched lines, before scrunching it up and throwing it away.

It almost hit you — but your sleepy state decided to ignore it and pulled your husband back and sat on his lap.

Only now did you notice —his shirt or robe was no where to be found and he was only dressed in his trousers.

“Come to bed. . .”

You whined and wrapped your arms around his strong and lean torso.

“I can’t, melda. . .”

He sighed — then pinched the bridge of his nose.

A action you noted over the centuries — that he did — whenever he grew stressed or frustrated.

You kissed his shoulder — then drew soft circles on his back to release the tensions of his muscles.

“Why not, vero?” (husband).

“Because, my dearest — I must finish this song before the feast dedicated to Indis.”

“That isn’t until a week away, my love — there’s no need for you to stress over it right now and lose sleep over.”

You kissed his jaw this time.

“Unless — you are planning on writing something for your late haruni Miriel — to please your father.” (grandmother).

You laughed quietly — remembering the incident. 

Your husband didn’t give a fuck — as long as his father gave him back his favorite harp.

Feanor gave it back alright — with new unbreakable thin strings that played good music  — to show he was rather pleased with his second son.

He laughed with you — shaking his head.

“I have insulted the woman enough for one time — am doing the right thing now so my haru as he pleaded with me. . .  — I have never seen him so . . . broken.”

Your Makalaure frowned —you knew how torn his haru was  — with loving his first born and his second wife.

Some part of you understood, to your husband’s father is was like  — his father had betrayed and cheated on his beloved mother when marrying Indis.

But the heart wants what the heart wants.

“Kano. . .”

You hummed in thought.

“Yes, my love?”

He answered  — your husband pulled your body closer to you and left a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“If I died. . . would you remarry like your haru?” (grandfather).

Kano suddenly froze  — and you watched as he carefully placed his quill down.

You started to worry — have you upset or angered him?

It was all fun and games  — until Makalaure became angry.

He was the Feanorian son with the most patience  — but he would still get just as anger as the rest of his brother  — if you ever get on his bad side.

Your husband’s soft lithe fingers came around your chin  —  he slowly turned your face and make you look at him  — locking his eyes with your gaze.

You bit your lip — you realized he wasn’t anger  —  rather, taken back.

“What has brought this on my love?”

He asked you. 

“I was just wondering. . .”

“Well wonder not — I will not lose you. . .”

He almost grumbled and kisses your lips — it was his form of letting you know this was the end of the conversation.

You sighed into the kiss — deciding it was probably best to leave it was  — for now.

You kissed back with just as much as passion.

He pulled away to rest his head against your forehead.

“I love you, my dearest. . . I would not even want to think of losing you  — you’re my light, my harmony. . . I will not lose you.”

He stated  — you smiled and placed your head on his shoulder and wrapped your arms tighter around him.

You stayed like that  — cuddling him until you figured it was his warmth you missed and your eyelids slowly closed knowing you were safe in your beloved husband’s arms.

The next morning you woke up in the same state  — in your husband’s arms  — but now he laid on the nearby couch with you.

Your eyes flickered over to his desk and you smiled  — he had listened to your words and stopped his work.

When you turned back he was still asleep —so you leaned in and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

“And — I will not lose you either, my husband.”

tara’s taglist: @mslizziesblog @spidergirla5 @aeonianarchives

silm taglist: @doodle-pops

@sorisooyaa I think you would like this ;)

#maglor x reader #maglor #kanafinwe #the silmarillion #tarawrites #the silmarillion x reader #the silmarillion maglor #sons of feanor #feanorians x reader #maglor the silm #the silm maglor

[silmawensgarden]

XIX-THE SUN CH.11

CH.11: Invisible onions

Fëanorians x GN Modern Reader. Warning: angsty.

Wordcount: 1,9k

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We often wish we could keep some memories forever. Though some of those memories might just turn out to be nothing but a dream, shrouded in a veil of misty blues and lilac.

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The next morning you woke up early and well rested. However despite it all, something was very much wrong. Though it was arguably the best sleep they ever had in a long time, you were not in your bed. In fact it was the fresh morning air and the ample amount of cheery birdsong in the forest that woke you today.

Sitting up to stretch, you glide your hand over the grass beside the sleeping bag. You don’t remember going out to the forest clearing last night. And especially not with the same clothes, blankets and travel bag as you did three whole weeks ago.

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You sit up quickly and frantically rub the sleep from your eyes. You stay seated in your spot for a little while longer. Staring into the vast open space before you. It should not be there. You look around the clearing and see the same poppies and wild lavender greeting you from the side lines. Everything feels strange. It’s like you’re having the absolute worst case of Déjà vu of all time. Everything is exactly the same as it was three weeks ago. Down to the very way your sleeping bag is positioned.

Now sitting fully upright you start to collect all your items back into your bag. You look through them all, and yes, even the pairs of socks you brought are the same. Readying yourself to go back to your grandfather’s home you look around the clearing once more, pinching yourself. It’s not a dream……

You look up to the sky, the sun has risen already. So that means your grandfather must be awake by now, waiting for you to return home safely to start on breakfast together.

Getting up from your spot in the forest you go to walk back to the house. Taking your time to observe the nature around you. The sky is a bright blue with minimal clouds and the sun is doing a good job at making even the early morning seem hot. A small group of rabbits hop by further down the road. One, two…. Five. Exactly the same group of rabbits. Hopping into the exact same bush.  You feel like you’re going crazy. This is so coincidental.

Finally arriving at the house you are greeted by your grandfather who is indeed already awake and drinking his usual cup of hot tea on the terrace. And in a moment he’ll say…… “Good morning y/n! Did you rest well?”he asks. There it is……. “Yes I did.” You say, your voice wavering slightly.

Walking inside the house you decide to put your bag on the sofa, you look back at it one more time, it sits there on the sofa exactly the same as it did that time. You don’t understand anything about this. Most of all, how come your grandfather is back already? And not to mention that there is not a single trace of the Fëanorians you’ve come to love. You decide to go check for physical evidence after breakfast. Caranthir made a noticeable dent into the bathroom door…..If that’s there then I’ll know that they were really here! You thought.

Making your way to the kitchen you somewhat yell out to your grandfather to ask what you’ll be making for breakfast. He says he already prepared it, it’s in the oven right now and should be done in 15 minutes.  You immediately make your way towards the oven to check what’s in it. Déjà vu crashes onto you once more like a heavy brick wall. It’s the exact same thing by design and contents. You start to feel a little sick to the stomach out of anxiety.

You sat down outside with your grandfather, he was enjoying his breakfast quite a lot. You however, barely touched it. Hardly a mouthful had been taken from the baked delight on your plate. Even the homemade cherry jam didn’t manage to wake your appetite. You were starting to lose yourself in thought.

Somewhere halfway into your spiral of anxiety your grandfather startles you by his announcement. “Y/n, I’ll be leaving the house in your care for a while.”  You stare up at him wide eyed, you were aware of this already. “Oh, okay…” you mumbled.  Your grandfather noticed that something was off about you. Yet he didn’t press you about it just yet. Taking it as a possible sign of not being awake enough yet.

“Well, I’ve been invited on a vacation by some friends. So we’ll be staying in their vacation home for 4 weeks. We’ll likely travel around as well during that time. So I’m entrusting my home to you dear y/n. You’re 19 years of age and a fine adult already. I trust you to be able to take care of it.” He said.

“Alright Grandpa. No worries. Enjoy your time in Chile! Say hi to Agustín and Filype for me.” You muttered slightly more audible this time.

“How do you know I was invited by Agustín and Filype to Chile? Did they call you?” He asked quizzically. He was starting to doubt your behaviors.  

“Uhh….. Lucky guess…? You usually spend some time with them in the summer…so…I thought it was logical.” You laughed sheepishly. You were nearly busted.  

“I suppose you are right about that.”

“When will you be leaving?” You ask. You were wondering if it would be the same as three weeks back.  He looks at his wristwatch; “In roughly 3 hours I’ll be meeting up with the group. The plane leaves in another 4 hours. So I’ll be leaving at 11:00.”

“Ah I see, that’s so early though!” You say. And also undeniably similar to three weeks back…..

It is now 11:50, your grandfather left a little while ago. And you’re currently sitting by the window enjoying a snack with some jasmine tea. The way things have been going it would mean that you have the whole day to yourself, as well as the house. Last time you went for a swim in the nearby river. It does sound tempting to you now too. But you felt no real desire to leave the house. You remembered that you wanted to search for physical evidence of their visit. So you shot up out of your chair by the window and rushed up the stairs to the bathroom.

Nearly tripping you finally arrive by the door. You inspect it carefully, searching the whole door for a dent. There was none…..

Your heart sank into your stomach. There was no dent in that door. You closed the door and walked to one of the guest rooms. You hesitantly reach towards the doorknob of the room where Amras and Amrod were staying. Opening the door fully you were met with a completely empty bedroom. Just a plain desk and a plain twin bed. No plants, no posters, no weird terrariums with tiny critters. And an empty closet too.

You ran out of their room and threw open every single door to every guestroom where they had stayed. None, none and none. Nothing left. Nothing in Celegorm’s room, nothing in Maedhros’ and Maglor’s room, and nothing in Caranthir’s and Curufin’s room. Every single room was emptier than you could remember them being even before their stay. It felt like the very souls of the rooms had left with them. And the inhabitants had evaporated together with it.

Tears were starting to prick in the corners of your eyes. Your thoughts were spiralling together on how what and why. You sat down onto the bed where Caranthir used to sleep for the last three weeks. It smelled like freshly washed cotton. Not anise. Staring at the now somehow bloodlike burgundy walls made you feel like your heart was being ripped right out of your chest. Your eyes slowly dragged from one corner of the room to another. Everything was utterly untouched. The desk where Curufin used to scribble away at all kinds of ‘subpar’ human designs was left in pristine shape. The ink that got splashed onto it was gone too. You dragged yourself over to the chair by the desk. Reminiscing that time when Curvo explained silver smithing to you. He’s a great teacher…..you managed to even remember a few things.

A sad smile creeped onto your face. You sighed deeply. You wondered if maybe he had forgotten a paper or two in the drawers. Just for the sake of having faith as small as a mustard seed. You decided to look. Slowly you opened the top drawer…..and nothing. No papers or pens left. Just bleak , hollow emptiness. As you were about to close the drawer you heard something……..rattle?

Your eyes went wide and your breath hitched. Could you have missed something? You were hoping for something even as small as the tip of the fountain pen he wrote with. Bending down to remove the whole drawer you saw something you couldn’t have dreamed of in your whole life.

Placing the drawer on top of the desk carefully, you fished out something not little short of a miracle.

Curufin’s necklace.

The very pendant he explained to you about. The silver shone brightly and the fire opal blinded you even more so with it’s light. A feeling of extreme relief flooded you. It really happened….!

You felt happy beyond compare. It was all real. But why was only Curufin’s pendant here? Where was the rest? The dent in the door was gone, the ink stains were gone and the plants that Ambarussa and Celegorm planted have disappeared. Maglor’s harp has gone and the cat you bought with Celegorm and Curufin has evaporated from existence also.

So….why did this tiny pendant remain? Could it by some strange chance have anything to do with the fact that it was made by Fëanor? Perhaps it was something like the silmarils. But a lot less spectacular. Fëanor is known to put his fëa into his works. It could be…..? You still felt doubt creep up despite it being a nice idea. It was too unlikely after all.

While you were lost in thought you lazily glanced over the pendant once more. This time you noticed something else that wasn’t right. The chain on which the pendant hung around Curvo’s neck was torn. The pendant was fine, but the chain was torn in half. As if it had been ripped off in a hurry.

You hoped that there would be some magic left in the pendant, but no matter how much you wished on it, nothing happened.

Night had fallen not too long ago and you decided to go back to your room. You felt saddened, though you found proof that it was all real ….. you wished you could’ve at least had a moment to say goodbye. It seemed you’d for now just have to make do with the happy memories you’d made with them.

You laid in bed that night with a feeling of nostalgia, holding on to the pendant for dear life. Keeping it under your pillow all night.

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#XIX-THESUN #elves #tolkien #feanorians #silmarillion #sons of feanor #gender neutral reader #feanorians x reader #silmawensgarden #the silm

[memoriapraeteritorumbonorum]

Letters to Carnistir - I

Author's note: I recommend listening to this song while reading.

-

How can I put into words what I feel for you?

In the midst of a rumbling thunderstorm, I imagine you next to me — reading a book. 

Outside, the wind blows a strange melody. Darkness engulfs the house, countless raindrops are hitting the windows. Lightning strikes and thunder roars — and yet, my eyes are solely focused on you. How the flashes of light reflect on your face. How your eyes seem to absorb  the words on the page you are currently reading. The freckles on your rubescent cheeks and nose — in my mind, they look like the stars in the sky. So delicately placed on your beautiful face, as if Varda herself had tried to capture on your skin their constellation on the day you were born. 

Your forehead, for the first time that day without a frown to distort it. You look peaceful when you read. I feel privileged to be able to sit next to you. To witness your walls down. The vulnerability in the comfort of your bed, the enjoyment on your face, the slight quirk of your mouth when you come across a rather amusing passage in your book. 

I wonder what you were like as an elfling. Were you reading just as much as you are now? What was the first ever book you read?

Your right hand moves and you turn the page with your slender fingers. 

Maybe your first book was gifted to you by your father. On the day you received your father-given name, perhaps? 

Or maybe it was your mother who made you the present of the book she would always read you before bed, once you were old enough to read it yourself?

I would have to ask you that later — I could never disturb you when you read. 

Thunder roars and I imagine a raven haired elfling wrapped up in his blankets, clutching a book that seems way too big for his delicate hands. The candle standing on the nightstand next to the bed is nearly burnt out, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. 

The thought of your little nose scrunching up when you read scary stories, your little smile when the protagonist does something funny, the furrow of your eyebrows when you come across a frustrating line — it makes me feel warm inside, knowing that you feel safe enough to display all these emotions in my presence. 

It makes me feel like I am getting to know your inner child. Getting to know Moryo, who would much rather hide from his brothers and their mischievous antics to read a book at a secluded place. Moryo, who would join his father in his study instead of running around in the gardens and exploring with the others. Moryo, whose eyes would light up whenever he could add another book to his collection. 

I wonder how he felt when he had to grow up and suddenly take on all these responsibilities. I wonder if he had enough time to adjust to life as a prince, if he ever missed going back to join Fëanor and his books. 

If life was kind to him when he had to make that transition. 

I can imagine how hard it was for you. How anger seemed to be the only emotion fueling your actions. You are known to be harsh, unreachable and oh so intimidating. 

But every time it rains, you find your way back underneath the covers, into the comfort of your bed. You light a candle and read one of your books until there is no more wax left to melt. 

And when the storm passes, exhaustion washes over you like a wave and you let yourself sink into the pillows with the hint of that innocent smile on your lips. 

I know life has not been kind to you — I recognize a troubled individual in your actions, an elfling trying to find his place in this cold, rational, merciless world. 

And yet, whenever lightning strikes, it seems to shine a light on the path little Moryo was trying so hard to find.

You’re at ease. You know you will be alright. 

#carnistir #caranthir #letters to carnistir #morifinwe #caranthir imagine #caranthir x reader #feanorians x reader #letters to comfort characters

[doodle-pops]

Turn Back the Sands of Time

Feanor x daughter!reader

Request: Can I request a fic for Feanor, coming back to Valinor after hia death, finding out Nerdanel had been pregnant when he left and she gave birth to a daughter. And if possible, this daughter has Miriel's sewing gift. – anon

A/N: I took a different route to how their interaction would occur and made this quite sentimental than I intended :)

Warnings: female reader, soft angst, softness and comfort, reconciliation

Words: 2.4k

Synopsis: With the return of your father to the Blessed Realm, an attempt at rekindling what was never forged, is pursued.

“Leaving so early?”

Your mother’s voice reverberated through the morning air, clear yet carrying a stern undertone. The sun had ascended over the hills and forest, casting its benevolent warmth upon the damp, fertile earth, coaxing the crawlies to retreat to their hidden abodes.

Startled by her sudden intrusion, you jerked in surprise, twisting your neck to find your mother positioned in the doorway. Her hands firmly rested on her hips, already adorned with small flecks of clay and dust. A hasty bun confined her hair, and she wore the familiar work coveralls that marked her dedication to the tasks at hand. “Oh, you gave me a fright!” you awkwardly chuckled, your attention momentarily diverted from the contents of your basket. “I’m... heading out.”

Her bare feet made no sound on the polished floorings as she traversed the distance, positioning herself beside you. With keen observation, she watched as you hastened your packaging, attempting to conceal the contents within the basket. Despite your efforts, you weren’t as clever as you believed. However, she remained silent, extending her left hand to rest against your waist. Leaning in, she placed a tender kiss on your cheek.

“At least be safe on the road. You can borrow a few of my cloaks, they’ll keep you warm, and good luck. I cannot tell you how to decide, but when you do, know that it is something you will have to live with.”

Suddenly, she vanished through the backdoor, setting you on the arduous path to Formenos after brief stops at Tirion’s market to procure supplies. Pastries, breads, salted meats, and fruits were gathered in an attempt to ease any potential awkwardness.

Alone on the road for five days, you revisited regions where you had once stealthily ventured. The surroundings were steeped in familiarity as you leisurely strolled by. The rhythmic clopping of your horse’s hooves on the gravelled road, the subtle rustling of trees and bushes, vast open fields where the wind hummed its tune, and the delightful symphony of birdsong and frog croaks accompanied your journey. Small creatures scurried at the feet of your horse, some perching on your shoulders or head. Nightfall descended, only to be swiftly replaced by the break of day, marking the conclusion of your expedition.

As you arrived at your destination, the wear and tear on the landscape became evident. Paint had faded, stones were missing from pillars and posts, wood showed signs of decay, and windows lay shattered. Face-to-face with the relentless march of time and the scars of neglect, you confronted the tangible evidence of one’s transgressions.

Dismounting from your majestic stallion, you carefully secured him to an apple tree before continuing on foot. The path led you through a gateway and into a garden adorned with a subtle array of colours—some signs of life still blossoming. Your keen eyes noticed the adjustments since your last visit, becoming attuned to the intense presence and weight that the surroundings now bore.

With each step, the gravel and dust beneath your sandals resonated against the cobblestone, creating a symphony of soft crunches until you abruptly halted before the colossal red door, proudly displaying the house sigil in shimmering gold. Tightening your grip on the basket and assuming a more composed posture, a sense of tension gripped your throat, akin to barbed wires constricting around it.

Summoning your courage, you knocked on the door, the sound echoing three times in tandem with the palpitations of your heart.

Initially, it seemed like no one was home, but an imposing presence lingered in the air, prompting you to raise your hand for another attempt. However, before your knuckles could make contact, the hinges groaned, and a towering figure emerged. A giant of an elf with fiery red hair and silvery eyes loomed before you, meeting your tentative gaze. While a hunch suggested his identity, he was not the person you had come to meet. An acute observation of his appearance left you trembling at your core.

His features were the same as the portraits hung in your mother’s workshop, a stark difference to the descriptions your uncle Arafinwë explained. There were no scars, missing ligament or whitening of his hair, but it was still enough to elicit fright in your bones. The stories were enough, running their course to remind all of his actions.

“No trespassing, this is private property. Whatever business you are conducting, take it elsewhere,” he muttered under his breath with emptiness in his eyes before shuffling to slam the door in your face.

Luckily, you stuck your hand out. “Wait, please don’t! I uh…” you fumbled and exhaled, “I came to speak with Lord Fëanáro. Is he in?”

“If you are here to lay blame on him for his actions, I would suggest that you get in line—”

Waving your hands frantically in his face, you panicked. “No, no, no, no! You have it all wrong. I’m not here for that; I’m here to simply speak with him.”

“Speak with him?” Maedhros meditated. “Did King Arafinwë send you?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief at the surprising intensity with which your own brother reacted to your simple desire to speak with his father. It was truly perplexing that, despite all that had transpired, he continued to share living quarters with Fëanáro. Your assumption that their relationship had soured after recent events was swiftly proven incorrect.

Clearly, his perspectives on Fëanáro differed significantly from yours, and he held personal convictions that he preferred to keep to himself. The intricacies of their business remained shrouded in mystery.

“Uncl—King Arafinwë did not send me, I sent myself,” you stated with pride, straightening out any fears in your posture and stretching a confident smile across your lips. “Can you tell him that a…a Lady Y/N is here to speak with him?”

The moment your name fell past your lips, you saw the micro-expression of your brother’s eyes widening before composing themselves. His stance changed from no longer blocking the entire doorway to standing aside and granting you a peek inside. You were half expecting him to make a scene, yet he proved otherwise.

Maedhros’ eyes fluttered and flickered around your frame, contemplating on his next decision. Exhaling, he stepped outside, shutting the door behind and ushered around you figure to the left of the house. “He’s situated on this side of the house. It’s quicker and less…obstructive. Follow me.” And you partially understood what he meant—the bloodstains from where your grandfather was slain, still staining the floors. However, it was the unwarranted meet-and-greet of the rest of your brothers.

You weren’t here for them, and Maedhros was kind enough to spare you.

The journey unfolded in a discomforting silence, compelling you to tighten your grip on the basket as the minutes passed. Your elder brother guided you through a labyrinth of twists and turns, eventually leading to the distant sounds of a babbling stream and the faint rustling of paper being crumpled. As you approached an archway, entwined and covered in an overgrowth of vines, the scene unfolded before you—Fëanáro, seated on a bench, holding a charcoal, and engrossed in fervent scribbling on parchment, an expression of exasperation etched across his features.

Despite the openness of the surroundings, the air felt stifling. The heavens above offered a solution to wash away the lingering muskiness, and yet, it persisted. How could anyone discover peace or find reprieve in such conditions?

“I’ll leave you to speak with him.” He offered a polite smile, and with a bow of his head, Maedhros departed, leaving you to face his father in privacy.

Acknowledging the bow with a graceful return, you redirected your attention towards the man seated on the weathered wooden bench. His appearance had undergone a noticeable transformation since your initial encounter—his once neatly tied hair now cascaded loosely, and his attire, less polished, resembled something reminiscent of what your mother wore when she was in her element. Absent were the ornate rings that had adorned his fingers, and there was a notable absence of any jewellery embellishing his clothing. In this particular moment, he existed simply as Fëanáro, the man who had seemingly returned from the realm of the deceased. The elf who had…

“How long will you linger in the shadows, child?” came his soft voice. It was much mellow that the confrontation shared with your mother.

Taking a large gulp of air, you crossed the archway, entered his space to stand at the entrance and called out. “Greetings Lord Fëanáro.”

A resounding cry escaped his lips the moment his eyes fell upon your timid figure. Joy and agony intertwined in his heart as he realized that his child had come to visit him. With a swift, almost spring-like motion, he abandoned his seat, forgetting the letter that lay there, and hurried over to stand before your magnificence. It was the first time he had a clear image of the daughter he had denied himself the knowledge of. In your features, he saw not just you but also your mother and the reflection of his eldest.

An intense yearning surged within him, a desire to reach out and grasp you, to finally experience the touch of a creation that bore no marks of his mistakes. However, hesitation gripped his mind, as the unexpected loomed overhead like ominous clouds threatening to unleash a storm. The uncertainty lingered, questioning whether the rain would be cold or warm, if it would bring wrath or peace—or perhaps an outburst of everything.

“You…” He laughed breathlessly with disbelief at the tip of his tongue. “You’re all grown up. I was told about you during my return, unsure if a meeting would occur. I had glimpsed you at your mother’s, hoping to be acquainted. Unfortunately, I had not been blessed.”

“Hm, I decided to come see you on my own after…” your voice trailed off, indicating his reunion with your mother. “Well, she had the inclination that I was coming to see you, yet she did not stop me. I wanted to hear from you on my own.”

His facial muscles engaged in a silent struggle, battling the instinct to react to every nuance of your words. His hands, twitching with the desire to pull you into a comforting embrace, held back, understanding that such a gesture might inflict more harm than healing. Your perceptions of him were coloured by his transgressions. You possessed ample reasons to maintain a distance, not just from him, but also from your own brothers.

“What is there for me to tell you when you are aware of everything, my child?” he responded with reservation.

“Why?”

Your question lingered in the air, a stain that defied any attempts at removal; not even the heavens’ rain could cleanse it.

One question. Millions of reasons. One answer, and yet, he chose to walk away with his back turned and head hung in shame. His body collided with the bench with his head in his hands facing the floor.

“What answer might I give to you that would satisfy your perspective of me?” he uttered. “You’ve heard it all; I chose the Silmarils over my family… Why you ask? Pride, maybe arrogance or my blind foolishness. I led my children into death and one by one I watched them succumb to the same madness as me.”

“But you have me who was spared from the doom. I exist, someone you can change for. Someone who can be the answer to why.” Were the words wanting to spill from your lips, however, now was not the time. There was much to be possibly kindled to know how much your words weighed.

Stepping closer to where he sat hunched, you placed the basket beside him and knelt. Your hands were hesitant to touch his, but you managed to pry them off his face. “You know, there’s a saying that ammë says,” you whispered akin to the wind, “it’s something along the lines of, ‘second chances don’t come around often, but when they do, they appear in mysterious ways. It’s only if you desire it, then possibilities will arise’. If you want forgiveness, you can start with me. Show me the you who wants better.”

Fëanáro lifted his head, his mismatch teary eyes locking on your compassionate ones. He was stunned at your sympathy when his wife would not spare him the chance. If only he had not been so foolish, the family he desired would have existed before his very eyes. “You do not truly mean your words? Your mother would not pardon me—”

“I am not ammë; your quarrel with her is between you both. I am Y/N and this is between us. I choose to try building this relationship so long as you work with me,” you corrected with confidence laced in your voice. Your eyes were stern, filled with assertiveness and the reflection of faces you’d never met. “You have to want this.”

He considered with sorrowful eyes, too fearful of repeating his past and ruining his last blessing. With deliberate actions, he shifted to sit upright and meet you head-on. “Then I make no promises...no oaths.”

“Good, because I was prepared to convince you anyway possible since I brought treats for us to indulge, and I would hate for them to waste.” Your eyes darted to the basket filled with delicacies for you both to snack on during your formal meet-and-greet. “Imagine how awkward it would be had you rejected, and I had to return with a filled basket of treats.”

“You could have left it with your brothers. I’m sure they would be thrilled to learn their sister brought treats for them.” Fëanáro felt a surge of pride at the flow of your interactions, lacking awkwardness and tension. It gave him a sense of purpose to understand that all good things were not lost.

Though his refusal to utter the words of “Thanks” remained in his heart, for he knew Eru had heard and seen his gratitude.

Snickering as you reached for the basket to produce a blanket, you threw him a whimsical side eye. “I doubt that. You should have seen how the giant redhead was staring at me. I thought I was about to be thrown like a javelin out the yard,” you giggled.

“Maitimo?”

“Ay, I thought he was going to toss me out! Though it seems that the others are here as well?”

“Would you be willing to meet them?”

“Maybe another time, I only came with enough energy to deal with you.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @sakurayaxd @ladyenchanted @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora

#feanor #feanor x reader #feanor imagine #feanor x daughter!reader #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion imagine #silmarillion fic #silmarillion scenario #middle earth x reader #middle earth imagine #middle earth fic #house of feanor #fëanor #fëanáro #curufinwë #house of finwe #feanorians #x reader insert #soft angst #angst/comfort #silmarillion #doodlepops writings ✨

[lamemaster]

The Curse of Heart (Thranduil x Feanorian reader)

Part one | Part three |

Pairing: Thranduil x Feanorian reader

Summary: And her fate remains unknown. Some rumors speak of the doom of Noldor that dragged the queen to the eternal void. They speak so in secret for the king of Woodland Realm forbids the name of his queen.

Thranduil stood outside the room. He did not go in. He hadn't done that in the past year. It had been an entire year since he had last seen you. Over that year his steps had led him to the closed-shut door but his will failed when it came to the very simple act of pushing open the door between you both.

And it was for the best for the door to remain closed. It was a mistake...his marriage to you. How could he accept a kinslayer? It would not have happened if he knew of your father. It would not have happened had he not trusted you blindly.

He could remember the agonized cries of the elves in Dior's court. His father had been there. He was a mere child but he could still remember the pain and the heartbreak of losing his entire life to the bloodthirsty Noldor.

The halls of his childhood remain a bloodied memory. His friends were lost to the wrath of ellon who saw little beyond their own greed. It had taken them so long to recover from an act so vile. His father had to wander unfamiliar woods looking for a place for his people.

They found a home in Woodland Realm. Their home that protected their people. Between the barrier of mountains and forests, they built a home. And Thranduil will not endanger it.

He will not risk losing his home again. Not the oath-bound, not to you. It was only fair that he came to find the truth. Justice had to be served. It was all he could offer his people.

Yet, a traitorous part of his mind could not help but wonder about the fairness of his justice. You did not wrong him or his subjects. You were not the one who wielded swords in the halls of Dior. You did not know of it. 'Your child..." They would whisper as night fell and the kingdom of Woodland Realm rested under the moon.

On such quiet nights, Thranduil allowed himself to think of his child whom he distanced himself from. What would they look like? How much did your bump grow? Did you still experience the morning sickness you did in the earlier days?

He knew all his answers rested a corridor apart in your room. A room that you had once shared with him. Would you welcome him after all that had happened or did you resent him as he did to you?

The thought of finding similar hate and bitterness in your eyes scared him.

He had for long ignored the pilling letters that you sent him. Every day a letter would arrive from the room you never stepped out of. And every day he would discard your letter into a pile he never touched.

Maybe that was the reason that he did not step in even when he heard your pained cries from the other side of the door. It had been hours since the pains of your labor had started and hours after the healer and nursemaids had gathered in your room.

Thranduil lingered outside the door. He had been pacing the last few hours since he had found out about your contractions. His hands twitched as another scream filled the hallway. He wanted to go in and question the healer who seemed to do little good for the past half a day.

If he had been a better ellon, he would have rushed in and held your hand as you experienced the most painful moments of your life. He would have wanted to be there as his child entered the world.

But he could not. He was a prince before he became your husband and your child's father. So, Thranduil held on to his duty and you did to yours.

In the moment of weakness and increasing helplessness he dared to open the bond that lay close for more than a year. The string of your marriage stretched taut with tension.

Pain, anticipation, and fear rushed in as he allowed the bond to settle. The chaos of labor lay heavy on your mind as Thranduil felt the unrelenting contractions that now hit you with intervals shorter than ever.

"Aaaaaghhhh," your shout filtered past the closed door and Thranduil felt it before he heard the cries of his son. In a snap, he closed off the bond he had renewed after so long. It had to wait.

Next to him, his father, King Oropher beamed at him as the cries of the newborn filled the corridor. The doors that had been closed shut flew open and the healer walked out with a small bundle in his arms.

"Congratulations Your Majesty! Woodland Realm welcomes a prince." The healer bowed as Thranduil carefully held his son. "Legolas," he named him in the very first seconds of holding him.

His son, who had his eyes, his hair, his nose. Legolas the prince of Greenland the Great.

He had been too lost looking at his son to notice the doors that were immediately shut after the healer first walked out. Maybe if he had not snapped off the bond in his internal panic he would have noticed the silence inside the room or he would have heard the hysterical whispers on the other end.

That night when the grand feast mellowed and stars shined bright Thranduil sat in his room with his son in his arms. Legolas slept peacefully. Thranduil sat by his bed watching his son the entire night. No thought, no vicious voice interrupted him as he beheld his son, whom he had been separated from for longer than a year.

And when the sun rose, and light flooded his room Thranduil jolted awake from his position by the bed. Next to him, Legolas whimpered in his sleep.

Thranduil gently patted Legolas who continued to cry in small hiccups. Picking him up Thranduil rocked the newborn, trying to calm the cries that grew louder.

A sense of unease settled over the Crown Prince of Mirkwood as he rushed through the halls of his palace. He made his way through the paths he couldn't erase from his mind even if he tried.

In his arms, Legolas continued crying, now inconsolable. Thranduil ripped open the bond he had shut down yesterday. A void greeted him. Nothing of your conscience connected to his.

Did you close off your end? It was too quiet. You hadn't done that for the past years. So, why now? Thranduil's heart beat faster than ever as he sped at the sight of your door.

The usually closed doors were wide open and Thranduil halted in his path. Sunlight streamed through the doors and soft linen curtains flew as the cool wind of emerging fall rushed through your doors.

Guard rushed out on hearing his footsteps. There were too many of them. A nurse he remembered from yesterday followed the guards. The chilly breeze from your room left goosebumps on his neck.

'Close the windows,' he wanted to order them. You should not be cold...it was dangerous after labor that long. His mother told him that long ago. He had heard it fro-

"Lady y/n passed away." The words settle in his being like a rock on the seabed. He stands there unmoving. It does not make sense. He finds himself unable to interpret the words that the nurse continues to speak.

How could you die? He had felt you yesterday. You were there. You birthed Legolas and he had felt your bond. No no no no no no...Thranduil searches for you in his bond. Any sign of you. He lunges towards the door and somehow in the process hands Legolas to the nurse.

Your room and his remains untouched. He sees his closet unmoved. He sees his books, his rings, his desk all intact as years had not passed since his last time being here.

You are there on the bed. So still yet, so calm. Thranduil calls your name that feels foreign after such a long time. The name he had allowed to utter in his mind. He speaks it out loud and you do not respond.

Lightly clutched in your ink-stained hands he finds a letter. Crumpled with ink smudged he looks at it as he sits next to you. He does notice the cooling temperature and the stiffness of your limbs as he reads-

'Thranduil,

Please allow me to see Legolas. Allow me once. Please allow me this once. I beg you. Please.'

An unfinished letter full of pleading. Written in the freezing dark night in a lone room.

An image of you hunched over in your bed floods Thranduil's mind. Barely holding on to the quill as you write on a paper that you scurry from a nearby book. Desperation fills your eyes as you write. A knowing look of the future awaited.

None speaks of the Queen of Greenwood the Great. Her name remains unsaid after the birth of the prince of the Woodland Realm.

However, some tales whispered under the umbrella of stars talk of her.

Descendant of great elves who resided beyond the seas. They speak that she excelled in the art of hunting. They speak of her marriage to King Thranduil, and of her skills in archery. But the most they ever speak of is her death.

It is said that the queen died alone in her room. She died like her great-grandmother had once. Yet, there are some who speak of her anguish as she longed for son before death. Alone in a cold room the queen died.

And her fate remains unknown. Some rumors speak of the doom of Noldor that dragged the queen to the eternal void. They speak so in secret for the king of Woodland Realm forbids the name of his queen.

#thranduil x reader #thranduil x wife #thranduil #the hobbit #angst #tolkien elves #hobbit x reader #middle earth #feanorian reader

[autumnshighlady]

A Lesson in Language

Fëanor x female!reader

part of The Professor Series

summary: challenging your linguistics professor is your favourite past time, until he decides it's time for you to face consequences for it

warnings: smut, power dynamic, daddy kink (only a little bit at the end), rough oral sex (m receiving), hate sex, roughness, Fëanor is a raging asshole

word count: 4.4k

request: Professor Feanor x reader? With fiery smut and snarky student reader ;) I was thinking something like he’s a linguistics prof (since he did come up with a new system of writing) and he teaches this one course that reader needs to graduate but she’s annoyed that he teaches it’s either his way or nothing at all so she argues with him all the time in office hours for her marks and etc?

So since we seem to be imagining everybody as a professor: Feanor. He'd be mean, and condescending, and the gods may help you if you're not good in his class (wth is he even teaching, he's good at everything💀) But if you're his best student, and a bright mind beyond class assignments? You'll want the gods to help you for wholly different reasons.

a/n: Fëanor is a massive douche in this fic ladies pls never let a man treat u like this lmao

series playlist on Spotify here

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

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You rolled your eyes as you doodled in the margins of your notebook, trying to ignore Professor Fëanor’s arrogant voice echoing in the classroom. He was droning on about pragmatics, a topic you had mastered last year already. You hated this class – it was tedious at best, and like watching paint dry at its worst. The only reason you were begrudgingly taking it was because it was your last requirement for graduation, as the class involved drawing up your own research study instead of a final exam. Everyone who was in this class took it for one of two reasons – either they were the same as you and just needed it for graduation, or they were lovestruck morons enamoured with the professor.

Admittedly, he was an attractive male. His long, raven-black hair suited his sharp face, with grey blue eyes that surveyed the class like a hawk, picking on daydreaming students to answer difficult questions. He was always impeccably dressed, and spoke with more confidence than anyone you had ever met. Yet he was arrogant and stubborn, insisting his way was the only way to learn linguistics. He spoke to his students as if they were dumb, incapable of being anywhere near his level of knowledge. And it irritated you beyond belief.

You were well known amongst your peers for getting into arguments with the professor. Dr. Fëanor had a nasty temper that frightened most, but amused you. You were the only student who didn’t hesitate to challenge him and stick up for yourself when he decided he wanted to bully his students. You were confident in your linguistic skill set, marching to his office to argue your grades whenever he gave you a shitty mark. You could tell it infuriated him, how his best student didn’t kiss his ass like he had clearly expected you to.

“Am I interrupting your artistic time, (Y/N)?” Dr. Fëanor’s bored voice sounded a few feet away from you, snapping you back to reality. You looked up, and he was standing in front of your table, glaring down at you. The students beside you shrank back, afraid to be caught up in the professor’s wrath. But you didn’t back down, only sighing and looking up to meet his gaze.

“What was that, sir?” You asked, widening your eyes and faking innocence knowing damn well it would piss him off further.

“You haven’t been paying attention to a single thing I’ve said all week.” He snorted. “How you are my top student is beyond me, with such a short attention span.”

“I’ve been paying attention, sir.” You lied, bringing your elbows to rest on the table. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then you won’t mind a little pop quiz, just for you?”

You shrugged. “Fire away.”

“What are the three airstream mechanisms in phonetics?” His shoulders were tense, a sign of his visible annoyance towards you.

Your answer rolled off your tongue. “Pulmonic, glottalic, velaric.”

“Define a morpheme.”

“The smallest meaningful unit of language. It must have a meaning of its own, either lexical or a grammatical function, and it must be minimal, not containing any smaller units that have meanings of their own.”

“And what are the four maxims of conversation?”

“Quality, quantity, relation and manner.” You smiled, watching your professor’s face get redder as you answered his questions easily.

“Name the distinctive linguistic properties of Quenya that make it differ from Sindarin.” Dr. Fëanor smirked, cocking his head arrogantly. You knew he would ask this question, it was too predictable. He was the master of Quenya, having played a huge role in the development of the language and construction of the Tengwar alphabet. 

But as usual, he underestimated you. You took a breath, pretending to think for a moment before lifting your chin and meeting his gaze once again. “Where do I begin?” You said confidently. “Quenya is a more complex agglutinative language that strings morphemes together into long words using an inflectional system with a flexible syntax, while Sindarin has a much easier to follow language structure. Quenya uses 5 tenses to conjugate, Sindarin has 6 and words often begin with vowels whereas in Quenya, they typically end in vowels. They both use the structures SVO and OVS structures, but Sindarin uses VS and VO, although it lacks the OSV structure that Quenya has. Additionally, Quenya adopted case endings for nouns in nominative and genitive cases, using the dual plural to represent plural form since it lacks a definite article to mark the regular plural. Would you like me to go on, sir?”

The entire class was utterly silent. No one dared breathe in the moments following your monologue as you waited for your professor to reply. You expected him to yell at you, maybe throw a manuscript at your head. But he didn’t move. It began to make you uneasy, and you noticed a strange look cross his face for a half second before he finally spoke. 

“I’ve heard more than enough from you for one class.” Fëanor’s voice was leathally calm, sending goosebumps up your arm. “Keep your mouth shut for the remainder of the lecture, and pay attention.”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your pen and sitting back in your chair as the professor continued his lecture. You crossed your legs, making your skirt hike up on your thighs, but you were too annoyed to fix it. Your professor was an arrogant bastard who couldn’t comprehend that not everyone around him was as dumb as rocks. But your skin flushed as you drifted off into one of your many daydream scenarios of Fëanor bending you over his desk and taking his anger out on you. You just knew he was rough and dominant in bed, having fantasised about being on the receiving end of that fire within him.

Your daydreaming was cut short as the professor began distributing last week’s quizzes back to the students. He didn’t acknowledge your presence as he ungracefully dropped yours in front of you. You noticed quickly a note was attached to it, that read:

Be in my office at 5pm tonight. We need to have a talk about your attitude.

You sucked in a breath. This was new. Not once had he invited you to his office – you were there of your own volition often enough to challenge him about your marks. You wouldn’t be surprised if he put up a sign on his door barring you specifically from entering. You knew he hated your visits to his office, so why invite you now? Talks with your professor about your attitude were done in public, specifically to try and humiliate you. 

You folded up the note and slid it into your pocket, nervousness beginning to churn in your gut. Was he going to fail you out of spite? You’d be unable to complete your degree if he did that. While Fëanor was an arrogant asshole, you didn’t think he was cruel. Or at least you hoped so.

Tears began to well in your eyes as the possibility of failing dawned on you. Perhaps there were consequences to mouthing off to your professor after all. 

*******************

A few hours later, you knocked at the elaborate wooden door to Fëanor’s office, then wiped your face one last time. You had spent an hour in the bathroom attempting to fix your makeup and conceal the evidence of your tears and failing, miserably. Your mascara was wet, giving you more of a smokey eye look than you had intended. Your smudged face was a stark contrast with your perfectly put together outfit – a short brown pencil skirt and tall boots, paired with a tight fitting, slightly cropped t-shirt. You felt ridiculous now, going to your professor’s office like this, but you had no other choice.

“Come in. And close the door behind you.” His deep voice echoed from inside the office, and you pushed the heavy door open. His office was its usual organised mess, manuscripts and books everywhere, laid out across every sitting space available save for the single chair in front of his desk. The room glowed orange from the roaring fireplace off to the side, making it look more like an ancient cave than an office.

You carefully walked over to the chair in front of the desk, clasping your hands in front of you.

“Sit.” Fëanor ordered, finally glancing up at you when you hesitated. “Unless you prefer to kneel on the floor?”

Your face burned bright red as you scrambled into the chair, ignoring the way his insinuation made your thighs tingle with need. He ignored you for a few minutes, continuing whatever he was translating on his desk. You shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do. None of your interactions had ever been like this – quiet, suspenseful, behind closed doors. No, it was always bickering arguments that turned heads in the hallways. Something was different about him.

“Do you know why I really called you in here today?” He asked, still not looking up. His long hair was tied back, except for a few loose strands that hung around his face as he wrote.

“To fail me.” You said quietly.

He barked a heartless laugh. “Gods, no. Failing you would mean I’d have to endure a whole extra semester of your arrogant attitude. I refuse to put myself through that.”

You felt all nervousness fade away, quickly replaced by that hot anger only he seemed to be able to get out of you. “I’m arrogant?” You snapped. “Take a look in the mirror.”

Fëanor’s writing ceased, and his grey blue eyes met yours and narrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard what I said.” You fired back, unable to stop the words from coming out of your mouth. “You’re the arrogant one here, sir. You try to belittle me every time I prove myself to be smart because you can’t imagine that everyone around you isn’t a complete imbecile.”

You expected the male to snap back, to call you an idiot and ask how dare you say these things to him. Truthfully, you couldn’t believe you were saying these things either. All your arguments had been about the material so far, veiled insults hidden beneath your words. Never were you this open, this bold, about how you felt. 

“Anything else?” He said in a bored manner.

“Yeah, you’re a real prick.” You continued your angry rambling, sick of being looked down on by this male. “You know as well as I do that I’m your best student, yet you treat me like the problem kid at the back of the class. It’s ridiculous, and the only reason you do it is to feel better about yourself. Am I wrong, sir?”

A long pause followed, and you swallowed a lump in your throat. If you weren’t going to fail before, you definitely were now. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. You simply sat there, eyes locked with your ill-tempered linguistics professor. After a few minutes, you couldn’t take it anymore, averting your gaze to inspect a loose thread on your skirt.

“Do you know why I’m such an arrogant… prick, did you say?” He stood up, walking around to the front of his desk and leaning against it, crossing his large arms. “Because I’ve earned it. I invented the Tengwar script and am the most knowledgeable person on the Quenya language there is. I have created and invented things that nobody else has, and nobody will ever come close to achieving what I have achieved. I have earned my arrogance, you have not. You’re just a little girl who’s in way over her head.”

You saw red, angrily pushing back the chair as you stood up to challenge him . Fëanor was a good foot taller than you, making you strain your neck to meet his gaze. “Call me a little girl one more time, I fucking dare you.” You hissed.

“Or what?” He smirked. “You’ll cry? Just like you did before you came in here?”

Your jaw went slack, “Wha–”

Fëanor scoffed, pleased with himself. “Oh, please, don’t even try. It was written all over your pretty face. I like it covered in tears, by the way. It’s a good look on you.”

WIthout thinking, your hand reached up and connected with his face, a dull slap echoing throughout the office. “Fuck you.” You spat, turning to storm out before you could face the consequences of hitting your professor.

But Fëanor was faster, his large hand firmly clasping around the hand you just slapped him with and yanking you back around to face him. His other hand grabbed your other wrist, and no matter how much you squirmed against it he didn’t budge. His eyes were dark as he pulled your hands up and across each other, pushing them into your chest as he stepped even closer to you. 

“You wish.” He purred mockingly. “Isn’t that right? Is that not one of the reasons why your attention drifts off in class? Because you’re fantasising about being bent over my desk and fucked until you can’t remember your own name?”

“You think way too highly of yourself–” You tried to defend yourself, but he cut you off as if you hadn’t even said anything.

“You think I’m blind? That I don’t notice how you always wear those revealing outfits on the days you have my class. Don’t play dumb, it’s not a good look on you.”

You thrashed in his grip, ignoring the effect his words had on you. “Let me go right now you self righteous, narcissistic–”

“Kneel.”

That made you freeze. “Excuse me?”

“You really need to learn how to shut up.” Feanor growled. “And that’s what I’m going to do. I’ve had enough of that mouth of yours, it’s time to make it useful for once. Now kneel.”

You were utterly dumbstruck, unable to do anything as your professor gave you a shove, making you fall to your knees on the ground in front of him. The wooden floor made your joints ache, but you knew better than to protest.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Fëanor began, the sound of his belt unbuckling distinct in the background. “Do you think you can follow simple instructions for once?”

“Yes.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, throat dry with anticipation for what was about to happen.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He paused his movements, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up at his towering form. “I’m going to stuff that smart mouth of yours with my cock, and you’re going to take it like the desperate little slut I know you are. If you please me enough, I will bend you over this desk and fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow. And you’ll have learned your lesson to keep your mouth shut when I tell you to, understood? Is that simple enough for you to understand?”

“Yes, sir.” You repeated, trying to keep the shake out of your voice. Your core throbbed at his words, exactly as dominant as you imagined him to be.

Fëanor finally unzipped his trousers, letting them fall to his feet along with his boxers, revealing the thickest cock you had ever seen. Your jaw dropped, but you didn’t even care that you had just boosted his ego. All you could think about was how it would possibly fit.

“What’s the matter?” He mocked. “Too big for you? Scared you won’t be able to take it? You’ll be able to take it because I’ve told you so. Now open.”

You parted your lips, letting your professor slide his cock between them. You sucked on the tip, earning a groan of pleasure from the male above. Forcing your jaw to relax, you took him deeper, aching with the stretch.

Without warning, Fëanor impatiently grabbed the back of your head and pushed you down further. Tears blotted your face as you gagged around him, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked him. Clearly, he wasn’t concerned with having you come up for air, forcing you to breathe through your nose.

He set a rough pace, guiding your head up and down his cock as far as it would go without making you gag too much. Your mascara began to run down your face, and you made sure to keep eye contact with him despite the strain on your throat.

“There’s a good little slut,” Fëanor growled, tightening his grip on your hair as he thrusted faster. “I told you you looked better with tears running down your face.”

You couldn’t protest with his cock around your mouth, so you only whimpered, focusing on taking him deeper. You sucked hard with each stroke, letting your tongue run along the vein underneath his shaft as you bobbed your head. Your professor moaned shamelessly above you, a sound that set your nerves alight.

Mindlessly, your hand wandered between your legs, attempting to relieve some of the pressure building there. Your fingers hadn’t even grazed your panties when Fëanor halted his movements, holding your head down at the base of his cock. 

“Don’t even think of touching yourself.” He hissed angrily. “I didn’t give you permission to do so. Try it again, and I won’t let you cum. Got it?”

You nodded around the base of his cock, whimpering. Your jaw was in agony, stretched to the max to accommodate his length. When he finally moved your head once again, you doubled your efforts, determined to make your arrogant professor fall apart. You sat on your hands for good measure, trying to avoid the temptation to ignore his orders altogether.

Fëanor began thrusting his hips to meet your mouth a few minutes later, his pretty eyes screwing shut as he tilted his head back. “Fucking swallow every last drop.” He grunted between thrusts, his grip on your scalp tightening right before his cock twitched in your mouth. He came with a loud groan, shooting spurts of warm liquid down your throat. You kept bobbing your head, sucking up every last drop and letting it slide down your throat. He panted, hips sputtering as you sucked him dry before finally pulling your lips off him. Your jaw ached like never before, but you were strangely proud of yourself. The image of your high strung professor climaxing into your mouth would be forever burned into your mind.

“Looks like you’ve earned your reward after all.” Fëanor grabbed you by your shoulders and hoisted you up onto his desk with impressive strength. You didn’t have time to ask if you should move the papers on his desk before his mouth crashed into yours. His lips were hot and dominating, overwhelming your senses. You barely had time to kiss him back before he was pulling away, attaching his lips to your neck and biting down, making you cry out. He sucked and bit every inch of your throat in a manner you knew would leave dark bruises the next day, undoubtedly an intentional choice on his part.

You felt your shirt being yanked up, Fëanor quickly pulling it over your head along and ripping your bra off then tossing both items somewhere behind him. His calloused hands eagerly grabbed your breasts, squeezing hard. You squirmed under his touch, wanting to get away from the harshness of it but also needing more somehow. Fëanor’s mouth assaulted your breasts, biting the soft flesh firmly before taking your nipple in his teeth and flicking the bud with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck.” You couldn’t help but moan, tilting your head back.

“You like this?” Fëanor teased, lifting his mouth from your breast momentarily before hovering over the other one. “You like it when I’m rough, treating you like a dirty little whore? Leaving marks all over your body so you know that you’re my property, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir!” You cried out as he sucked at your other breast. It was overwhelming, his hands were everywhere except where you needed them most.

As if he read your mind, Fëanor pulled away, ripping his shirt over his head to reveal the most sculpted abs you’d ever seen. The bastard stood there for a moment, proudly watching you admire his form. Gods above, you’d never be able to focus in class again after seeing his muscles.

He reached down and roughly tugged your skirt and panties down, exposing your glistening cunt. Fëanor plunged a finger into you without warning, pressing a thumb to your clit and making you see stars. His mouth found your neck again as you squirmed under his touch, a hand reaching around your back and pressing you into his frame.

“You’re a fucking mess,” He growled into your neck, adding in a second finger and stretching your hole. “All for me, isn’t that right? I’m going to break you, my dear. Break you into a thousand pieces and put you back together so I can do it all over again and make you mine.”

You whined, feeling your muscles clench around him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were approaching your orgasm faster than you ever had in your life. “I’m close…” You mumbled through shallow breaths, legs beginning to twitch.

He smirked. “I know.” Was all he said before roughly pulling his fingers away, right before you could make the final stretch towards the edge.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed, angry. Before you could cuss him out, his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed.

“What did I tell you about keeping that pretty mouth shut?” Fëanor growled. “I would threaten to stuff it with my cock again, but you’d probably enjoy that too much. Guess I’m just going to have to fuck you so hard you scream and lose your voice.”

He roughly turned you around, pushing you by your neck so you were stomach first down on the desk with your feet still on the floor. You breathed heavily, grasping the edge with your fingertips as Fëanor lined his cock up to your entrance. You forced your body to relax, knowing it was going to hurt at first.

His hands found your hips and he slammed into you, almost knocking the wind right out of your lungs. You barely had time to catch your breath and acknowledge the stinging stretch between your legs before he pulled out and did it again, setting a brutal pace. You began to scream, fully screaming in pleasure and pain as Fëanor pounded into you relentlessly. You couldn’t even think straight, all logical thoughts about there possibly being people in the hallway that could hear you as you cried out over and over again.

Fëanor’s grip on your hips was almost bone shattering, his thick cock slamming into your g-spot faster than anyone had ever fucked you. He was right, your entire body would be sore tomorrow. In fact, you’d be lucky if you were able to walk to class. Fëanor’s thrusts were so powerful, you were sure he was going to split you in half.

And you fucking loved it.

You loved being bent over your professor’s desk, unable to think about anything else aside from how hard he was fucking you. The male you had had verbal sparring matches with for weeks was taking his frustration out on you, and you loved it. You enjoyed being at his mercy, feeling things nobody else had been able to make you feel.

Fëanor grunted, reaching one hand down and rubbing your clit. “You cum when I say you cum, got it?”

You nodded, whimpering as you felt your body try and pick up where it left off. You begged it to keep your orgasm at bay, knowing Fëanor would be less than happy if you came without his permission. So you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to think about anything else.

He thrusted into you for what seemed like hours, to the point where your legs had gone almost numb. You were a sobbing mess, fighting to stop yourself from climaxing all over his cock. The papers on his desk were stained with your tears, and your determination to not beg him for anything snapped.

“Please let me cum.” You sobbed pathetically.

Fëanor only increased his pace on your clit, smirking as he pounded you. “Aw, are you crying again? Poor little thing is so desperate to cum for daddy, isn’t she?”

Daddy. Your brain went haywire. Normally, you were not into the whole daddy kink, but the way Fëanor said it changed something in you. You whined, nodding. At this point, you’d say whatever to get him to let you cum. “Please, daddy, I need to cum,” You cried, body shaking. “I’ll do anything you want, please just let me finish.”

Fëanor groaned behind you, his cock twitching inside of you, evidence of his pleasure with your response. “That was pathetic,” He grunted. “But I’ll let it slide. Cum for me, slut. Cum now.”

Your body let go before he finished his sentence, the dam that had been holding your orgasm back bursting, letting the climax wash over your body. You cried out, voice breaking with hoarseness as your legs twitched violently, your grip on the desk and Fëanor’s hand on your hip being the only thing keeping you from sliding onto the floor.

The world spun around you, and at one point you were pretty sure you lost consciousness. As you came down from your high, Fëanor moaned loudly, pulling out and stroking his cock while jutting his hips forward. Thick spurts of cum landed on your back mixing with the sheen of sweat already there. His loud groan echoed throughout the office as you panted, your entire body feeling both completely wrecked and on cloud nine at the same time.

You tried to speak, but no words came out. Your vocal cords were shot, jaw aching with every movement. You didn’t even hear Fëanor retreat, but he returned with a towel, gently wiping the seed off your skin. You wanted to thank him, but couldn’t. In fact, you weren’t sure if you could even move. 

Fëanor chuckled, bundling up your clothes and setting them beside you. He placed a glass of water to your lips, tilting it back and letting you eagerly drink it up. “You’re excused from Thursday’s lesson,” He said smugly. “Only because I know you won’t be able to get out of bed to get to class. Let this be your lesson learned not to question me, or call me an arrogant prick. Got it?”

You nodded weakly, defenceless, and knowing your linguistics class with Dr. Fëanor would never be the same.

#amara's professor series #feanor #feanor x reader #feanor smut #feanorians #the silmarillion #the silmarillion x reader #tolkien #jrr tolkien #middle earth #lotr #smut

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine trying to enjoy alone time in a tavern, but then ending up as the local therapist for an elf and his relatives.

Imagine trying to simply enjoy some alone time in a tavern, drinking some beverage, and minding your own business till you meet this one elf and  became regular chat buddies. Now, the relatives of this elf keep coming to the tavern to talk about their problems with you. 

Warnings: reader’s sanity gets tested. 

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

Day 1

Maedhros: *Walks into the tavern, takes a seat, orders a drink, and slams his head against the table*

You: Now that sounds like someone is done with everyday life.

Maedhros: You have no idea. 

You: Which one for you, work or unbearable relatives?

Maedhros: Hmm?

You: Work or unbearable relatives? Sometimes it's the work that tires you out, but sometimes it’s the relatives– who do things that make you tick beyond measure. 

Maedhros: Hmm… both. Why would you like to know?

You: Just filling out boredom. Wanna have a drink? I can pay for you because you look like you need it. 

Maedhros: Well – that is nice of you. I am Maedhros. 

You: (Name)

After a week of meeting with Maedhros to shit talk about family, drink, and send each other off– not to be seen for another week. 

Maedhros: And yet again, I have to clean up after my brothers. 

You: Man, that sucks. 

Maedhros: Indeed. I have to go. It was nice talking to you. 

You: Bye. 

Maedhros: Farewell. 

Maedhros: *Walks out of the tavern after paying the bartender*

You: *Sits in silence, drinking*

Maglor: *Walks in and notices you*

Maglor: Excuse me? Are you (Name)?

You: Uuh – yeah? 

Maglor: I heard about you from my brother, Maedhros. He apparently likes to come here to talk and drink with you. 

You: And you are?

Maglor: I am Maglor.

You: Ah, the one that sings in the morning and never shuts up. 

Maglor: What?

You: Nothing! What do you want? 

Maglor: I will be honest. I need to relieve something out of my chest. And since Maedhros likes talking with you. I have been ha — *talks about his problems with his family*

You: *Staring at him, confused.*

You: Wha –?

Week 2

You: *Trying to enjoy peace after having talk sessions with both Maedhros and Maglor for a week. 

Caranthir: You!

You: Wah! What!

Caranthir: Are you (Name)?

You: uhm – yes? I’m sorry. Did I do something to piss you off?

Caranthir: No. Why would you think that?

You: You look angry. 

Caranthir: Well, I’m not. I am Caranthir. I heard about you from two of my brothers, Maedhros and Maglor. 

You: Oh, the grumpy one and the one that hoards all the gold?

Caranthir: What?

You: Nothing! What can I do for you?

Caranthir: I heard talking with you helps relieve stress and resolve problems. So, let me start –

You: And what if I don’t-

Caranthir: I will only talk about this once, so listen carefully. I am so done with my –*talks about his problems with his brothers and relatives and problems managing the money*

You: What?

Week 4

You: *Groaning while lying your head against the table*

Celegorm: You (Name)?!

You: What? Who — who are you two?!

Celegorm & Curufin: *sits on each side of you that you sat between them*

Celegorm: We belong to the same family as the rest of our dear brothers, who seem to like turning their backs on us in our time of need. 

You: That – doesn’t tell me anything. 

Curufin: His name is Celegorm and I am Curufin. 

You: Oh, The unhinged forest goblin and the cheap copy of dad?

Celegorm & Curufin: What?

You: Nothing! I assume you wanna talk and let something out of your chest too? 

Celegorm: Excellent! Then there is no need for an explanation. Let me tell you what kind of a rough week we had. 

Celegorm: I was planning good things for our people, but they kicked us out because apparently we were evil, and I tried to force myself upon Doriath’s princess. I was only trying to show I would be a better option than that mortal man. She even stole my dog! 

Celegorm: Can you believe that? And all people claim we’re the most problematic people in Beleriand. 

You: Didn’t you try to kill them, though?

Curufin: And my son doesn’t want to be my son anymore? Apparently, I disgusted him so much that he decided to disown himself. 

You: —what?

Week 6

You: *Groaning even harder after exhausting weeks of listening to the feanorians’ problems*

Fingon: Excuse me, are you by any chance (Name)?

You: Please, don’t tell me you’re one of Maedhros’s brothers!

Fingon: Oh no, I’m not.

You: – really?

Fingon: I’m his half-cousin!

You: dammit!

Week 8

Fingolfin: You must be (Name)

You: Huh?

Fingolfin: Okay, let me talk about my kids and those problematic nephews of mine. 

You: Sir? Do I know you?

Fingolfin: My kids don’t listen to me, and my half-brother’s kids just do anything they like, causing problems and being a bunch of ruffians. 

You: Sir? Sir? SIR?!

Week 14

Maedhros: Hey, (Name). Sorry, I have not been visiting for a while. I have been busy with work. 

Maedhros: (Name)?

You: *You sit up, shadows and bags in your eyes, exhausted and looking like you were going to break down at any moment*

Maedhros: (Name)! What happened? You look awful!

You: You – and the rest of your family need to find professional help.

#maedhros x reader #maglor x reader #caranthir x reader #celegorm #curufin #fingon #fingolfin #silmarillion x reader #silmarillion #tolkien #middle earth x reader #middle earth #elf therapy #feanorians x reader #silmarillion imagine #middle earth imagines

[elficially-done-with-life]

Helping Celebrimbor heal in Valinor hc

Pairing: Celebrimbor x reader

Warnings: slight mentions of torture

Takes place after he is reembodied and falls in love with you

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

♡ You go for long walks after Celebrimbor has nightmares, sometimes until the sun comes up, while you talk about all sorts of things

♡ he feels uncomfortable and cramped in narrow spaces and streets, so you've agreed that he'll always tug on your sleeve twice when everything gets too much for him

♡ You then carefully lead him out of the crowd and help him to calm down

♡ When he wants to start working in the forge again, he asks you to stay with him

♡ He is too afraid of being reminded of the forging of the rings and the pain of what followed while forging

♡ Feels safe if you are there when he makes something again, at least at first

♡ Celebrimbor gets a few panic attacks, but you help him and soon he manages to work alone in the forge (but doesn't mind if you come along or drop by sometimes anyway)

♡ Would like to get in touch with Curufin again, but isn't sure if his father has really changed and realised his mistakes

♡ Since Curufin doesn't know you, you offer to find out if he is still the same

♡ In the end, it leads to a heart-wrenching reunion between father and son, which is also the reason why Curufin welcomes you all too happily as part of the family

♡ As it had been dark in Sauron's dungeon, Celebrimbor can only sleep when the whole room is brightly lit

♡ Feels guilty if you can't sleep well in the light, but you assure him that you're happy to get used to a new sleeping situation as long as it means he can find his way back to the present more quickly after nightmares or fall asleep at all

♡ sometimes wakes you up after really bad nightmares

♡ you always wake up from the 'normal' nightmares, but with the really bad ones he doesn't scream and just lies there frozen with fear

♡ He wakes you up quietly and ashamed and asks if you can cuddle, of course you say yes every time and then whisper to him that you are glad he woke you up because you love him and want to help him, Celebrimbor always feels a little better as a result

♡ All in all, it will take time for him to really start getting better, but it would be worth all the time in the world to you, and you know you can do it as long as you're together

#celebrimbor x reader #celebrimbor #tyelpë #tyelpe #tyelperinquar #telperinquar #tolkien x reader #x reader #elves x reader #silmarillion x reader #healing #tyelpe x reader #telpe #silmarillion #feanorians x reader #celebrimbor imagines #celebrimbor hc #tolkien headcannons

[maedhrosiseverything2me]

Me:*staring at them*.

Me: I didn't know I had a very specific type...

Bestie: what type?.

Me: red hair with missing arm/hand.

#I guess I have a type #maedhros #shanks #red hair shanks #maitimo #silmarillion #feanorians #maedhros x reader #shanks x reader #op #one piece

[koyunsoncizeri]

A lil maedhros animation.

I...am also finally sharing a lil fic? Ficlet with Mae x Oc - angst and fluff. Under the cut!

I would be SO grateful if y'all would tell me what ya think :') !!! Especially my writing mutuals!! ♥️

Dove彡

"Don't go…" he softly whispered to the small figure lying next to him. "You don't have to go, little dove…"

She opened her eyes slowly. She'd been awake for sometime, she'd feigned sleep to feel his hand smooth over her hair, and caress her cheek, just to savor the warm feeling he radiated.

"I can't stay, elf lord." she said slowly. He glanced away when their eyes met. She smiled. There was something so innocent and childlike about this otherwise intimidating elf.

"Don't call me that…"he sighed, and turned to lie on his back. 

"I'm sorry…my lord." she grinned. He rolled his eyes but pulled her to his side. She pressed her body against his and rested her hand on his chest. 

"Why?" he asked after some time, but there was a defiance in his voice. He still saw this as an argument he could win…and convince her to stay. 

They'd met a week ago, when she asked for a sanctuary at their gates. It was apparent she was on the run for some time. He ordered them to open the gates and assist the human, which he later realized because she was tiny. The memory brought a smile to his lips and he turned his head to press a small kiss to her forehead. She opened her eyes, she was about to fall asleep in this elf's arms. She returned the loving gesture by kissing his neck, but a surprised gasp from him stopped her. Instead, she smiled gently at him, and assumed her former position.

"There is no life for me here,"she said. 

He fell silent.

He knew she was right, she would be better off living as far from him, and here as possible, and yet… he wanted her, selfishly, irresponsibly. He frowned, he felt bad to even entertain the idea; this was not like him at all.

"There can be," He chastised himself as soon as the words left his lips, what was he saying? How could he promise something like that, when he had naught to offer, not his affections, nor security.

"I'm sorry my lord…" She leaned to him on her elbows, his eyelids fluttered at the sudden proximity. He held his breath when she reached for him, placing her hand gently on his cheek. His lip was caught between his teeth and he fought so hard not to turn his eyes away from hers. She caressed his cheek, then her hand combed lightly through soft locks of his russet hair. He sighed softly, and closed his eyes. 

"I shall remember all that you have said, all that you have made me feel," she whispered, and pressed a soft kiss on his forehead, and he quickly opened his eyes. "I shall remember the quiet and kind laughter of yours and the soft touch of your hand."she kissed his cheek. "I shall cherish every moment you have kindly graced me with your presence, every glance you bestowed upon me." She cupped his face. "You shall forever remain in my heart, and I hope to be in yours at least for a while," she gently smiled, and wiped the tear that rolled down from his cheek when he tried to blink it away. She pressed her lips softly on his, and he welcomed her. He deepened the kiss as she let herself fall on her back and he followed her; covered her much smaller frame with his large one, trying to burn how good she felt under him into his memory. 

Next day came too soon, and with that last goodbye.

"Farewell, my little Dove. May winds always favor you."

#silmarillion #the silmarillion #jrr tolkien #maedhros #maitimo #feanorians #sons of feanor #maedhros the tall #maedhros x oc #maedhros x reader

[lovefairymina]

Celegorm: Women are easy to charm with good looks and big muscles. I even have a giant dog, so who can resist me?

Curufin: Oh yeah-- how about you try to charm that maiden over there? I heard she is the human chief's daughter, a talented painter, friends with animals but very hard-natured. I heard she even bit the next man that tried to become her suitor. *Pointing at you*

You: *Minding your own business and painting your mighty stag friend that stood before you in all his glory*

Celegorm: That's easy! Human women are especially easy to charm. They can't resist true beauty even when they might be stubborn about it. *Approaches you on his horse*

Celegorm: Greetings~ * Winks at you*

You: *Look at him with a frown*

Celegorm: Hello, what is your name?

You: Can…. I help you?

Celegorm: In fact you can -- Do you know the way?

You: To… where?

Celegorm: To your heart ~

You: *Stare at him*

Celegorm: *Grins and winks*

You: *Loudly pretentiously gag at him*

You: Okay the mood is ruined. Everyone go home! *Picking up your painting equipment*

Celegorm: Eh? *Shocked*

You: Aras, I see you later * Pointing at your stag friend*

Aras: *Nods and runs away into the forest*

You: *Staring at Celegorm* Bye! *You leave*

“You could have at least been a little more polite about your rejection,” voice dejected and body sagged as he stared at your retreating figure. Your lack of attention and care only fueled him to put on his best boots and apparel to impress you even better. “Game on princess! This hunter isn't giving up so easily.”

#♡{sweet.hugs} ~ {celegorm} #silm imagines #celegorm #celegorm imagine #celegorm x reader #celegorm x you #tyelkormo #turcafinwe #turcafinwë #feanorians #house of feanor #sons of feanor #middle earth imagine

[silmawensgarden]

Stages of acceptance

Maedhros x reader

Prompt: Hi! I loved your young Maedhros request/fic and I was wondering if I could request Maedhros x reader and they are reunited in Valinor after the destruction of the Ring and Sauron (e.g. reader had remained in Middle Earth and only left with Elrond once the ring was destroyed)? Thank you!

Requested by anonymous

A/n: I know it's taken long for me to get this one out. Though I tried my best to imagine a good scenario for this one so I hope you enjoy it! → It has some hurt/angst in it but its hurt with comfort. I hope the end is sweet enough to make up for it. ❤

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: angst/hallucinations/mentions of death

The time has finally come for you to return to valinor. Three ages have passed and the fourth was about to begin. The reign of the elves has waned into nothing. You are standing at the front of the boat, greeted by the salty air of the sea. This is the last ship to depart from the grey havens. You feel a mixture of joy, anticipation and fear. Your stomach churning uncomfortably from the feelings.

Your arrival in Valinor means that you must face someone you haven't seen since the earliest age. He's bound to be there, watching by the shore like a hawk for a sign of your existence. You don't know if you even want to face him after all these years. His death was like a poorly aimed arrow to the heart; a supposedly fatal blow, but instead turned into a curse you had to live with for the rest of your life. The nightmares made his death seem like it happened yesterday. The hollow look in his eyes as he fell into the flaming inferno remained fresh in your memories. The nightmares have subsided to some degree these days, but occassionaly you would still need the help of Elrond to be grounded into reality. Those days are the worst, in those moments dream and reality fuse together into horrible hallucinations that take days to recover from.

It took some convincing from Elrond to get you aboard the ship. Your hesitance was peculiar to them because you hardly ever divulged any information about your past. From the time you spent fighting in the first two ages of the world to a good while before your impromptu arrival in Imladris. They only know that you are one of the elves who left valinor in the first age. Not exactly an ideal amount of trust you gave them, but at the time it felt like the safest option.

What else could you have done? Tell them you'd been the ever faithful companion to a kinslayer? It would've been a far too harsh pill to swallow for a first meeting. Occasionally your story would fray at the edges, it made you wonder if any of them ever noticed the minor discrepancies between each recollection of the tales you told them.

Now that you thought about it, you haven't been truthful with him either. The one person you felt like running to and from at the same time. Especially now..... the thought of facing him was excruciating. You hadn't bothered to write to him, let alone use osanwe....the spiritual link between your fëar had remained all these years. Yet you refused to participate in the ages long tug-of-war your souls had been playing. Was it better this way?

You felt a firm hand on your shoulder, drawing you out of your spiralling thoughts. "Y/n, what is the matter? You have been completely mentally unavailable during our journey."

It was Elrond. A deep frown etched into his face. You felt a bit guilty about all the silent stewing but you weren't so sure if you should come clean right this instant or not. You were willing to take the bait in the end, after all you'd be spending quite some time together in Valinor. Even more so, Elrond was a trusted friend and companion to you, one you didn't want to lose.

"Elrond....I believe it is time for me to have a lengthy conversation with you. I have not been 100% truthful with you these past years."

You turn around to look at him and see an expression of surprise with thinly veiled concern on his face. Elrond nods and the both of you sit down a little further away from the other elves for privacy. "What is it that you wish to tell me y/n?" He asks.

"I have not told you the full truth of my identity. I believe you are aware of the Fëanorians? Specifically Maedhros...."

After a good hour of talking it had become clear that you had been involved with Maedhros quite closely. In return Elrond had shared with you his own interactions that he and his brother had with the eldest Fëanorians. Fond memories, but also the hardships that came with the turbulent times they had to live through. Elrond was not happy with you keeping the information to yourself all these years, it upset him that you never gave him any insight on your horrible hallucinations. Because now he also knew the reason behind them, had he known sooner he could've helped you earlier and easier.

However despite your silence he was not angry at you. Most of the upset had come from a place of wanting what was best for you, not because he had felt cross about your involvement with Maedhros. In the end you and Elrond remained good friends if not even better friends now that he knew who you were.

It wasn’t long before it was announced that the shores of Aman were in sight. The news made you freeze up. You knew that you would now have to face Maedhros face to face. So you braced yourself for the conversation ahead of you.

The moment you stepped onto dry land your soul felt like it was being squeezed tight by something, a tight grip that told you it wouldn’t let go. Within seconds after you felt this feeling you caught a sliver of fiery red hair in the back of the crowd.

Him.

Anxiety pooled into your stomach as you felt yourself being pushed forward by the people behind you. It seemed like every sound around you had become dull, save for your own heartbeat. The fast paced thumping in your ears was the only thing you could hear. You saw Elrond speaking to you for a brief moment, but your mind did not register what he said. You set out towards the last spot you had seen the tiny speck of red hair. Partially hoping for the confrontation.  

When you arrived at the spot there was no-one to greet you. He had apparently already left. The thumping had alleviated some but you were still processing your surroundings as if through a blanket of thick fog. Everything felt slow and dull. Your feet dragged you over towards a pathway that was all too familiar. You followed the road towards a familiar place mindlessly. Your feet stopped short by a riverbank. There he sat on a rock, his copper hair now long and swaying in the wind.

“So you have found it in you to return home, y/n.” He spoke slowly. It was deeper than you remembered and a little bit raspy, as if he had been screaming the night before. You stepped closer to him, now standing right behind him.

“Let me then simply state what is on my mind, why have you never bothered to send me letters y/n? You even refused to use osanwe with me, despite our status…….” He said solemnly. It was clear he was unhappy with your lack of communication.

“Maedhros….. I was so caught up with the destruction of the one ring and finding a way to defeat Sauron that I haven’t paid anything else any thought…..and I was also deeply wounded by your death. I was unable to respond to anything properly since. Including your bids for connection.” You fumbled over your words here and there during your explanation, partially knowing that it was a rather weak excuse that he may not accept. After all he was known to carry on until he could no more.

“Was it worth it?” His words stung like a papercut. You knew by the tone of his voice that it was meant to sound cold and removed, but his true feelings shone through underneath the façade. Saltiness. Maedhros the tall was feeling salty.  You pondered for a moment on what to do, you still loved him dearly and didn’t want to give him up. So you made up your mind.

“Maitimo….I am sorry for my lack of heartfelt response in those times when you reached out to me. I was unable to move past my own issues to reciprocate what you had given me all those years before and I am ashamed of it. I hope that you are perhaps still willing to give this another chance….I would be most grateful, if you’ll have me…” A lone tear slipped from your eye. You felt cross with yourself for your cowardice, maybe even your horrible dreams could’ve been eased if you had leaned into him back then. Unfortunately many things we only realize once we have been pushed onto the end of the road.

Maedhros’ form stiffened up at your confession, slowly turning around to face you. His face was stoic. Forcing yourself to make eye contact with him you saw the slightest flash of a deep heartfelt emotion in his eyes. You were now so close to each other that you could feel his breath on your face. In a moment of madness induced confidence you threw your arms around him into a bone crushing hug, refusing to let go. The lone tear now turned into full fledged waterworks. You felt your body being slowly pulled closer to him, a soft kiss was pressed to your cheek. In that moment your fëar had finally reconnected after two ages of separation.

A relieved smile graced Maedhros’ face as he whispers close to your ear; “Welcome home, melda…”.

#maedhros x reader request #maedhros x reader #maedhros #maedhros one shot #maedhros imagine #maitimo #nelyafinwe #house of feanor #feanorians #sons of feanor #silmarillion #tolkien #elves