#Curufin x reader

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | When You Fake Your Orgasm

Request: Hi! I’m so happy you opened the request again!☺️ I wanted to ask if you could do the “When you fake an orgasm” with the Feanorians, the one for the Ainur was amazing!! Thank you and have a great day💖

A/N: I didn’t include the twins in this because I was unable to write smut for them. I don’t know why, but I can never envision smut for them, it doesn’t click for me. Sorry, but I also hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, rough sex, spanking, fingering, overstimulation, edging, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, cunnilingus, oral sex (male and female receiving), manhandling, restraints, dirty talking, pet names (kitten, little one, bunny, good girl, princess), punishment, reader being mocked

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Feanor — I don’t know if I should clap you on the back and say, “Great job for challenging a man like him,” or be concerned that you chose to challenge a prideful man like him. Because baby, he’s not letting that slide on his pride. Verdict? Punished

He sensed it, the minute you tossed your head into the pillows and released the most ear-aching groan you attempted to have sound believable, he stopped. There was no shouting, no groaning or fuming like he usually did—he simply pulled out with a loud slick, the look of pure dissatisfaction on his face, and climbed off the bed to stand at the foot. There was a sharp gleam in his eyes the longer he looked at you, contemplating what punishment to dish out—so many options, a lot of time to execute them all, which one came first. He chose to say nothing, instead grabbing you by your calves and dragging you to the foot of the bed.

Before you could properly react, he snatched you by the arm and spun you around, planting your face into the mattress with a hand gripping the back of your neck to firmly keep you rooted. A high-pitched squeal left your throat, but it wasn’t from the sudden roughness of his actions, it was from the loud crack of a hand across your ass, followed by the immediate dragging of his fingers through your folds to harshly rub your clit. “Feels good doesn’t it? So good you could cum all over my fingers right now,” he muttered in your ear, pressing more weight against your sweet spot once he found it, causing a string of gibberish to leave your lips. “Then why don’t you cum right now. Fake another one if you dare.”

“F-Fea…nor—shit—was just a—ngh—joke,” you cried out as you wiggled your hips against the thrusting of his thick and calloused fingers.

“A joke,” he gasped lightly with humour in his tone before continuing, “then I too should give you one as well.” Then, he withdrew his fingers an inch away, listening to you crying out from the loss of pleasure. “Let me give you the best joke in the history of the Noldor—so good, that you’ll remember it forever and even learn a lesson from it.”

Maedhros — what can I say. Best rough fuck of your life? This man had his own sense of humour, and he was about to display how funny he could be during a crucial act since you wanted to play games.

The moment your lips parted to gasp, fingers digging into his biceps and legs tightening around his waist, he smirked. The hands on your waist slid downwards to grip your thighs and curl them into your chest, flush against your breasts while pressing his weight upon you, essentially pinning you beneath him. The new position had his heavy cock pressed deeper within your walls; you were scrambling to find purchase along his sweaty back. “Nggh, fuck—too deep, Mae,” you whined with a pout, brows furrowing and lip biting as he doubled the pace, making the bedframe shake.

“Hmm, I’m as deep as I should be,” he purred against your lips while one hand from your thigh reached up to grip your chin, forcing you to keep eye contact. He chose to roll his hips, his flared tip rubbing against your sweet post, prompting your eyes and walls to flutter as you genuinely came around his cock, a warm gush of your juices coating his length. “That’s more like it. That’s how you should look when you’re about to cum all over my cock,” he grinned and pecked your lips swiftly. “All fucked out, not that phoney performance.”

“M-Mae…please, ’s too much.”

“Uh-Uh.” He was having fun with this, giving your face a small shake while his grip on your jaw tightened. You could feel him deep in your stomach—getting deeper—and the loud squelching sounds of your cunt gushing around his length telling you that he didn’t plan on stopping. “I’m having just as much fun as you faking your orgasm, melda. Why should I stop when all you have to do is lie there and take my cock?” he whispered cynically with a wicked grin. “Or do you want to fake another orgasm again?”

You shook your head, struggling to keep up as another orgasm was approaching after he fucked you through the recent one.

“Good,” he hummed and lifted his body slightly off you, releasing your chin. “Now be a good girl and cum for me again.”

Maglor — the gentle poet isn’t always as gentle as everyone considers him to be, you know? Kano has his tricks up his sleeves, and one of them is ensuring that you’re not leaving this bed unsatisfied, no matter what it takes.

He didn’t even wait for you to finish before he came to a complete halt, staring at you with all the restraint and disbelief. And then, ever so slowly, he broke into a smile—a cunning, wicked smile. “My, my, my, princess. You didn’t tell me that we were performing. Had I known—” he growled and suddenly pulled out to flip you onto your knees, pushing your face into the pillows and sinking your back into a beautiful arch. “—I would have put on an equally, captivating performance as well.”

Whimpering, your excuses falling short when you felt his fingers trail down your spine to dip between your folds, spreading your wetness around to rub lazily circles around your clit. “I hope you know how great of an improviser I am—one of the best. So, I hope you can keep up. It would be a shame—a real shame if you were unable to…” That was all Maglor needed to do to have you falling apart under his touch. Those skilled fingers, working you to the brink and bringing you back down, edging you as if he was playing his harp and plucking strings of cries with each pinch or flick.

His other hand rested at the centre of your back, applying just enough pressure to warn you of his warrior’s strength underneath while his fingers ran through your fold, circling your clit and then down to your entrance, doing everything but sinking inside. The needy whines you released only fuelled him to continue his ministrations as you begged him.

“Kano, quit playing—please, put it in,” you groaned, voice muffled as you pushed your face into the pillow to swallow your needy cries which he revelled in.

“Kano quit playing,” he mocked, laughing at the end as he pulled his fingers away to give your ass a solid smack, jolting you forward. “How demanding? What are you, a star actress who can’t play her part correctly?” In an instant, just as the response was at the tip of your tongue, his cock plunged into your cunt and immediately started moving without an inch of reprieve. “Why don’t you leave the improvising to me, sweetheart, and just do what you’re supposed to. Cum for me when I fuck you.”

Celegorm — gosh, you’re giving his man a game. A thrill. A chase. He’s a hunter—this is the type of game he’s into. Make him work for his prize, and you, my dear, were so kind to delectably present him with the best challenge ever. One neither of you would ever forget.

Coming down from your so-called orgasm, had you trembling in Tyelko’s hold. Ankles locked around his neck, nails curling into his meaty biceps and jaw slackened as you mimicked the expression of ecstasy, but that was never enough to fool the hunter. For in an instant, he leaned into you further, pressing more of his weight against you, squeezing your thighs against your chest, caging you in like some prey with those gleaming, green eyes. “Little bunny wants to make me work to earn an orgasm from her, huh? Acting as though I wouldn’t know what this pussy feels like around my cock,” he taunted with a sickeningly, sinful laugh.

“T-Tyelko, don’t—” Your attempted words were immediately cut off by an abrupt tumble as he rolled over to place you on top, adjusting your legs to straddle his hips, yet pulling you down, chest to chest.

“Shh, kitten. You don’t need to speak—you’ve told me enough.” His cock still buried deep within, started moving sluggishly at first—just for a few strokes to get you relaxed—while he gingerly took both your wrist and bound them with one hand behind your back. As slowly as he moved, it was enough to make your stomach flip. And like the predator he was, his feet planted into the mattress and instantly thrust upwards with much more force jerking you forward, save for the strong arms around your waist.

A loud crack of his hand followed against your ass, groping the flesh before sending another, matching the intensity of his thrust. “Just like that—feels so good doesn’t it? Nice and deep enough to fake another?” he growled, increasing his tempo for the sound of sweaty skin clapping against each other to ripple around the room.

“T-Tyel–…ko—fuck! ’m s-sorry…slow down—ah!” Sputtering his favourite chorus of gibberish, he merely grinned and sunk himself deeper into your cunt, purposefully rubbing his cock head against your sweet spot which had your nails digging into your palms and more juices dripping down his cock.

“Not at all kitten. I’m right where I need to be,” he purred and cracked another hand across your ass. “Chasing as many orgasms I can get all night long.”

Caranthir — he doesn’t do anything half-assed, so why would you make him feel like he wasn’t performing up to standards, huh? Don’t you think that you’re about to be reminded to never test his skills?

A hand pinning the back of your neck to the polished desk while the other torturously dragged its fingers through your dripping cunt—if you thought Moryo was about to let it slide with a fickle excuse of ‘I was just tired,’ you were fooling yourself. He didn’t appreciate the gesture and was fixated on ensuring that you never thought about attempting your foolish jest ever again. And judging from how his fingers glided so smoothly through your cunt, your juices coating his palm and wrists, and the obscenely loud echoes of your thirsty walls sucking him back in, he was making a point. All of this when it was your umpteenth orgasm for the night, and he wasn’t letting up. No amount of, ‘I’m sorry,’ ‘Please don’t tease me,’ or ‘It was just a joke,’ could reduce the number of times you’ve cum all over him.

“Have you learnt your lesson yet, melda?” he questioned with such authority, yet a distinctive quietness in his tone. His question was followed up by a sudden contracting off your walls, spasming around his fingers as they remained still and pressing against your sweet spot. Within seconds, another gush of your arousal oozed out, making his rings and bracelets glisten under the lamps. “Hm, not yet it would appear.”

“Moryo—”

“Silence. You had your chance to answer and missed the opportunity. It is clear to me that you still crave more, so I shall give you more. Enough that you will not attempt such foolishness again.” There was a faint smirk in his tone as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the centre of your back, the same time his fingers regained their pace and continued to fuck you through your orgasm, into the next one. The tremble of your legs as shivered with oversensitivity made him laugh airily, not slowly or increasing his pace, keeping you right there, and giving you want you clearly desired from the start. “You’re doing so well, darling.”

Curufin — nothing misses his eyes. Nothing misses his focus, and you thought it would be a brilliant idea to test the man who was cunning, perspective and undoubtedly harsh when it came to dishing out punishment? Good luck.

“Open—wider.” Just as swiftly as the command came, your mouth was filled with the sliding of his thick cock between your lips to rest heavily against your tongue. He wanted to silence those nasally cries you emitted earlier, calling it the regular sounds you made when you orgasmed, and listen to you gurgling on his cock, rethinking your options. “Just like that. You sound much better.”

All you could do was look up at him through your teary lashes while he tossed his head back, hands tightening in your hair as he held you still. He didn’t move too slow or too quickly, just at the right pace to satisfy him and leave you clenching around nothing in anticipation. A soft, muffled whine escaped your throat when he pulled back, leaving his tip to rest against your lips, causing him to finally open his eyes and look down at you—with disappointment. “What’s wrong? Finally ready to apologise so I can make you cum for your ridiculous stunt?”

You nodded, pouting up at him with your teary eyes, knowing the effect it always had on him. “I’m sorry…won’t do it again.”

Instead, he scoffed. You were so shameless. Fake your orgasm and then had the audacity to be wet while he fucked your throat, wanting his cock to quench your heat. If anything, it made him more irritable. “I’m not so sure that you are sorry,” he corrected, biting his lower lip. “You just want me to stuff you with my cock like the needy little thing you are.”

“You can do whatever you want,” you pleaded. “I just want to cum.”

Rolling his eyes as he tapped his cock head against your lips, signalling you to open up, he pushed into the warmth of your mouth again, exhaling deeply at the welcoming of your heat and wetness. “I am doing whatever I want, darling. And that’s making sure you don’t cum like you wanted from the start.”

Celebrimbor — okay, why would you even try this stunt on this pookie wookie? He’s trying his best to bring you the best pleasure you ever had in your life with passionate precision and you of all things to do…fake your orgasm. Go stand outside in the rain, for making him feel like his performance wasn’t good enough,

His hips stuttered the minute you started vibrating and clinging to him, giving him a world-altering performance of you orgasming. There was a look of sadness washing over you as he continued to observe your shaking figure under him—you were so caught up in acting to notice that he had stopped and slackened his hold on your hips, slightly sitting on his hunches. The way his brain was calculating what to do in the face of such an event he never thought would occur to him. Then, he recalled—a conversation between two of his Lords he overheard speaking about their wives pulling this same stunt.

So, it was a thing. Just you attempting to trick him. He was still saddened deep down, but with a fervour.

Gingerly, he pulled his cock out and shuffled off the bed, noticing how you watched him with curious eyes. “Where are going? You haven’t finished?” you worried, sitting upright and frowning as he slipped back into his trousers, keeping it loose around his waist.

He said nothing as he reached into the drawers for a pair of handcuffs, designed just for you. A little something he was working on for a while to surprise you with, and what a joyous occasion it was for him to introduce them to you because, in mere minutes, your hands were cuffed to the headboard and left sobbing—begging for release, overstimulated. Tyelpë’s mouth worked so fervently against your pussy, giving you all the orgasms in the world so you would never test his abilities again.

A languid drag of his tongue against your clit, followed but a sharp suck had your toes curling, yet, unable to move from the iron grip that held them apart. You were beyond sensitive, unsure if he could milk another orgasm from your thoroughly wracked body.

“Hmm, do you think you can give me one more?” he peered up at you through those gorgeous emerald eyes. How could you say ‘no’ even when this was punishment? And yet you found yourself nodding slowly. “Lovely, let us see if this would be the one to remind you to never try that trick again.”

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @addaigio @hermaeuswhora @elficially-done-with-life @feanorynz @6esi @will-0-wsps @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ella-error505

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[batsyforyou]

Squishing and Kissing the Elves Cheeks pt.2

Tags: dramatic form of affection, crack?

Author's Note: this is the current highest winning and I just decided to do Eonwe, this one as well as the pokémon one and the other. So, basiclly everything lol.

Taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese

Squishing and kissing Maeglin’s cheeks 

He has a very thin face so there isn’t much to grab and pinch but when you do grab and squish his face (much to his shock and horror) he’ll gape at you. And when you kiss him? He is so caught off guard he’ll shove you away in a panic. Red finger prints on his pale cheeks and with his labored breathing he’ll look like a cornered animal. 

He’ll demand to know what you were doing, “I was just trying to love on you, love.” You say. 

“Oh.” He gulps, his cheeks flaring with color. “Could you, could you do that again?” 

Essentially he is that meme, “What is this? Affection? Disgusting, do it again.” 

Squishing and kissing Turgon’s cheeks

He is beyond embarrassed 

Hates PDA so if you so much as reach to cup his face while outside he’ll flinch back so hard his face would catch fire. (blushing)

He’ll snap his head around while covering his mouth and look to see if any of his siblings saw you and if no one even glances in his direction he’ll calm down. 

If you try to squish his cheeks alone he’ll be just as embarrassed so he’ll pull back some while mumbling a complaint about having to bend down so far 

But don’t worry all you have to do is jut out your bottom lip and pout before he gives in. 

Letting you pinch and kiss his cheeks as he listens to your giggles with red ears. 

Squishing and kissing Maglor’s cheeks (Not finished) 

“Magpie?” 

“Yes, my dear?” 

Slowly approaches, “Would you be upset if I stole a few minutes of your time?” 

“Not at all!” Glancing up from his music sheets he cocked his head, “My love, I can hear your heart beating from here. What has sent your heart a flutter?” 

Frowning he scooted his chair back, “Celegorm hasn’t done something has he?” 

Giggling, you shook your head, “No, no! I just, you're so cute.” 

He smiled, patting his lap, and you hurriedly took his invitation, lifting your skirt over his legs to comfortably settle against his chest. “I do believe that is a trait to describe you.” 

Giggling, you pushed your face into the crook of his neck as he held you in his embrace. After a few minutes cuddling you pushed yourself back a little to meet his eye. 

Reaching up you squished his cheeks together and kissed his nose and other random spots on his face. 

With one more smacking kiss to his lips you grin, bumping his nose with yours, “I love you.” 

Running his thumb over the apple of your cheeks he looked up at you with admiration in his eyes. 

“I love you, enterally.” 

Squishing and kissing Maedhros’s cheeks 

You’ll have to wait and make sure the elf is sitting at his desk if you even want to attempt getting him with your dramatic affection. Thinking Maedhros will shove you off you act fast, giggling as you rush to his side. 

“Melda? What are you-” Quickly taking a hold of his cheeks you squish them together and give him one singularly wet, smacking kiss and race off, laughter trailing in your wake. 

Stunned and confused, Maedhros ponders exactly what happened, a slow smile growing on his lips. 

By the next morning you were struggling to move from your bed, sitting at your bedside and staring at your bedroom floor, no thoughts were entering your mind. Seeing you on the bed Maedhros smirks, yanking on his belt to make sure it's secure he leans over to you and pinches your cheek with his one hand, leaving a passionate kiss onto your lips. 

“There.” He says. “Easy pickings.” 

It very quickly turns into a game of Cat and Mouse. 

It’ll happen in the corridors, at the dinner table and any place that holds no political importance. Leaving his brothers to roll their eyes and groan at their brothers show of sickening affection. 

And as the oldest, nothing makes him more happy, annoying his brothers and loving on his love. 

Squishing and kissing Curufin’s cheeks

You slowly approached him, taking careful sure-footed steps into his office you observed his still form. The constant scratch of his quill acted as a lure to distract your husband from what was about to happen. Feeling laughter bubble inside your chest you tightly bit your lips, 

So close ….. 

The elf grunted, “Don’t even think about it.” 

Feeling your ballooned excitement pierce with a pop, you sighed, his words mimicking his brother’s skill in archery. 

“How did you know?” 

Crossing your arms you gave up on being sneaky, instead strutting right up to his desk and plopping your butt on the corner. 

Counting his papers he licked his fingers and pulled a fresh paper from the stack, “Your first mistake was thinking that I would not recognize your presence in a room. To think I would not recognize your footfalls and the subtle minute traces of your scent, is insulting.” 

You raise a brow staring at him and as the minutes ticked on he sighed, “I could hear you through the wall.” 

You groan, dropping your back to stare at his intricately designed ceiling. Of freaking course he did. 

“Please Curufin? Please, let me have this.” 

Circling a set of numbers he marked Caranthir’s name beside it. 

“No.”

You pouted, “Pretty please? I won’t ask you for anything else all year!” 

“We both know that will never happen.” 

“Curufin.” You beg. 

Dropping his quill he rubbed at his temples, “Would it really make you that happy?” 

“Yes!” 

Sighing he leaned into his chair, burying his fingers into the fabric of his sleeves. 

“Fine.” 

Squealing you grabbed his face and planted a big fat kiss on him. Enjoying every minute  he lets you squish and kiss his cheeks. 

Squishing and kissing Erestor’s cheeks  

Pulls away almost immediately, the elf is snapping his face anyway from you so fast you practically hear the neck snap audio. 

He is so red in the face because he is so angry at himself for actually enjoying it and he feels so embarrassed over the fact that he can feel something grow in his heart. And just knowing that he likes being cooed at and loved so “Childishly” with a dramatic flair, he doesn’t want to look at himself. He is a hardened soldier who faced countless battles and struggles in his long immortal life. So being handled like that by you feels so good and so wrong at the same time. 

Essentially, he is that meme where people go, “This better not awaken anything in me.” lol 

Squishing and kissing Caranthir’s cheeks

Slamming the door to your shared chambers Cara grunted, yanking at his tunic and muttering under his breath. 

Peeking over the sofa you watched your love with interest, setting aside the book you’d been reading. 

“Cara?” 

Taking his boots he stepped on the heels, slipping his feet out and kicking them to the side. 

You tried again. 

“Cara, my love?” 

He grunted, near snorting at you as he fumbled with the buttons, struggling to pop them. His face stood as a testament to his mood, a blister red and his ears seemingly twitching at the heat. 

“Oh, my sweet baby.” You call. “Come sit and I’ll help you.” 

Ignoring you, he huffed and yanked at his clothes with the strength only an elf could carry. The fabric ripping off his back and shoulders, Caranthir pulled the garment from his arms and sighed. 

Finally free of his clothes, save his leggings, Caranthir trudged towards your spot on the couch and climbed into your lap, hiding his face in your stomach. 

Frowning, you gently reached into the small box under the side table and pulled a small brush from its contents. Humming a lullaby in a soothing tone you removed his braids and pins and brushed his hair until the tension in his back melted away. 

“Hard day?” You asked. 

The rumble of his voice hid itself in the folds of your shirt. “Worse than you know.” 

Pushing himself onto his back he rolled over to look up at you.

“Can you?” 

Grinning you tossed the brush into its box and took a hold of cheeks, “I’d love too.”

Masterlist

[felagund-the-valiant]

Your Father's Son - Curufin x maia!reader

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

Words: 1.3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You followed me?”

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

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

“He?”

“My father.”

“What? Of course not-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[lamemaster]

A Conspiring Universe (Curufin x Reader)

Pairing: Curufin x Reader

Genre: Lovers to enemies (hehe)

Summary: Such was the unfortunate tale of your meeting with Curufin. A fate orchestrated by the entire universe.

AN: Idk Curufin just came and demanded this so here it is. Another story for the underrated character event. @doodle-pops

"Your father destroyed lives, he does not get my respect," your words reverberate through the serene room, a stark contrast to the tranquility that hangs in the air. The faint scent of ripe oranges and sugar from your marmalade fills the space, a bittersweet reminder of domesticity amidst the impending storm.

In the golden light of the Sun, you see him for the first time. The last time you laid eyes on him, the Sun and the Moon had yet to grace the world. "You never even gave us... my family a chance. Always on your high horse. Always preaching whatever your parents told you about," Curufin remains unchanged. Despite the passage of time, the regrowth of his fana has not tamed his fervor, nor dimmed the fire that has long defined him.

This is how you greet your husband after eons of separation. Your veins pulse with adrenaline, your heart pounds like a drumbeat of fury. "You and your wretched family took away everything from me," your accusatory finger jabs the air, finding its mark on Curufin's conscience.

"You took away my son, his happiness; you trampled upon his heart," your steps carry you closer to him, until your breaths mingle, noses almost touching. "And in doing so, you took my everything," you refuse to let your tears fall. Not today. Not in front of him. He does not deserve them. Not after the last time you had begged him with the same tears. You had pleaded for your son.

"I wish I hadn't met you," the words slip out, unhindered by any interruption. So you continue, your voice like a river finally allowed to flow freely. "I wish you had perished at Alqualondë, or I wish you had ended my life before you departed Tirion," a tremor runs through you, but you steel yourself against it. After all these years, after carrying the weight of a bond you never asked for, it all crumbles like a dam breached under pressure. "I wish... I... I had died."

"Please," his voice is a whisper, a fragile sound that blends into the walls around you, almost lost in the echoes.

"Every single day of your exile, I yearned for death. To depart this world. To journey beyond even Miriel's reach, and to leave you. To abandon you as you abandoned me," your voice wavers, your knees threaten to give way, and the tears stream down. At that moment, the arms that wrap around you. 

You do not allow him to embrace you completely. You shrug off his arms even as the world blurs. “Curufinwe I hate you,” your voice is a whisper but you know he hears it. “I hate you so much.” Tears not belonging to you, stings the skin of your hands. Tremors foreign to your body rock your shoulders.

Curufinwe, like his father, fell in love with the most unexpected person. None in Aman had expected such to occur, yet, it had. Just like none had expected Feanor to marry unremarkable Nerdanel. They hadn’t expected for his son, his shadow, Curufin to wed the daughter of a priest.

But love comes where it is destined. And it stays there like an unwelcome tenant. It came for Curfin and you. 

Your upbringing immersed you in tales of the Valar and their valor, bound by reverence and tradition. Curufin, however, was raised in a household that reveled in defiance, a family that dared to question the authority of those who claimed dominion over Arda. Neither Feanor nor your parents had assented easily. But that too had come to pass.

Or else what could have been the chances of Curufin getting a sudden impulse to stroll, a mere few hours after he had delved into his father's smithy, a place he could stay in for days without respite. Why did he choose that exact moment for a break? And why did his steps lead him to the temple, a place his family had shunned? How was it that you, who usually worked out in the gardens of the temple was the one singing the hymn that morning? What had led you to sing like that, that particular day?

It was as if the entire universe had conspired to blend your path to him. On a pleasant sunny day, when the flowers bloomed bearing all the colors of the rainbow, and the air thrummed with the subtle fragrance of incense, you met Curufin. 

It had happened in a fraction of a second. Your eyes met his and it was undeniable. In a hall full of people your singing faltered at his sight. Notes forgotten and worship discarded. Curufin on the other hand did not pause. He moved towards you uncaring of the eyes on him. 

Such was the unfortunate tale of your meeting with Curufin. A fate orchestrated by the entire universe.

[lovefairymina]

Curvo...I just need a hug..please

Sighing from the interruption in his reading, he caught a glimpse of your fatigue figure. A frown easily marred his face at the lethargy. “Come,” he beckoned calmly with arms opened. “You can lie in my arms while I continue to read.”

[starlight-incarnate]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars & shiny things, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine reuniting with your brothers after many years since their deaths

After many years, you finally return home and reunite with your family.

Requested by Anon

Hello💕 hope you been well, I was wondering if you could doa continuation of that imagine about being a son of Fëanor but not taking the oath, something about reader meeting his brothers and father in the hall of mandos, with all comfort and angst please 💕💕

Continuation of this: Imagine being one of the sons of Feanor, but...

Warnings: dead characters come to life, a bit angst, mentions of your blind eye and disownment, fluff, reunion, you make amends with your brothers and father, from angst to comfort.

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

- After many years of living in Middle Earth, surviving the events of the first and second ages, and witnessing the end of Sauron. You were finally allowed to return to the Undying Lands, your home. 

- You once thought you were not worthy to return due to the oath and the actions of your father and brothers, even though you did not participate in any of their crimes and were disowned. So, you were shocked to learn through Glorfindel that the Valars had seen your actions as noble and granted you the right to return. 

- After years of being named the Traitor, the Unloyal, and the Forgotten by your brother’s loyal followers. Words could not describe the relief you felt. 

- You were eager to return to your home after so many centuries. However, you did refuse to leave Maglor behind, so before your departure, you tracked him down and brought him back to Elrond, who took care of him and convinced him to return home with you. The reunion was filled with many held-back emotions, and many things were finally resolved through talking. 

- After that, you finally returned home. 

- The feeling of joy filled you when you saw Aman and its familiar landscape. You felt eager and nervous when you finally arrived at the port and saw many familiar faces waiting there. 

- You watched Elrond reunite with his wife and Galadriel with her family. It was a joyful sight until you noticed the familiar red color of hair among the people and the gentle eyes of your mother. 

- Seeing her forced the tears out from your eyes as you had missed her terribly. You and Maglor embraced her as she was joyful to see two of her sons return home alive. You felt regret that you could not do the same for the rest of your brothers, but she hushed those thoughts away, as two of her children returning home was better than none. 

- You then introduced your spouse and children to her, who she welcomed with open arms. 

- You were then reunited with your uncle and the rest of the cousins who had been re-embodied and were joyful to see you again. Even after many years, you still felt strong familiar love for them as you had looked out for each other since Helcaraxe. 

- However, as time passed and you and your family adapted to the life of Valinor, you began to think about your father and the rest of your brothers. They had yet to repent and heal from the events of the first age thus they were still contained in the Halls of Mandos. You did not know how to act on those thoughts as you felt scared yet yearned to see them again. Even if you were still technically disowned and did not separate from your brothers on good terms, you still held love for them. 

- The scar in your eye has faded over the years, leaving only a faded line. Your eyesight never truly returned, causing it to remain white like a pearl. You did not mind it as you were used to having it. However, it still reminded you of the day when your father raised his sword at you and disowned you from his family. 

- You shared these thoughts with your family. Your mother and Maglor encouraged you to see them if that was what you wished. Doing so might heal some unresolved wounds within yourself. Your spouse also supported the idea, even if they had reserved thoughts about your father after hearing what he had done to you. 

- After that discussion and deep consideration, you decided to visit the Halls of Mandos. 

- The halls were eerie and made you think about scenarios if you had been killed and come to this place. The events of the first age were recorded in the halls, giving you a sense of nostalgia and sorrow. Even if you wanted to forget such events, you understood some records were important so future generations would not make the same mistake. 

- Mandos permitted you to seek your brothers and fathers after hearing your reasoning, and you were left searching for them among the spirits that had yet to heal or be re-embodied. 

- The first of your brothers to be found were the twins. Seeing them together again made you feel relief and your reunion was a happy one. 

- Caranthir was the next. He felt regret because the last time you saw each other: he had lashed out at you and said hurtful things. You assured him that you had forgiven him a long time ago. 

- Celegorm and Curufin were the next and though they did many terrible things while alive, especially seeing you as the traitor of your house. They admitted to their wrongs and understanding of your decision not to swear the oath. They no longer held it as an act of cowardice and unfaithfulness. In fact, they claimed how you had been wiser and even daring for standing up to your decision. 

- You made your peace with them and continued looking. 

- You then found Maedhros as he had been filled with a lot of shame that he made himself harder to find. It was a good thing that you were better at looking. 

- You two talked for a long time and he felt grief for what he had done and said to you. It was a deep discussion and you told him you held nothing against him. Even after everything, he and the rest of your siblings never stopped being your brothers. 

- The hardest one to find was your father. 

- Your brothers shared that your father had felt guilt over his actions, especially for what he had done to you, so he most likely hid himself away from you. With their help, you managed to locate him. 

- You found him alone near the tree where your grandmother resided in her eternal sleep and sat down beside him. 

- You did not give him a chance to avoid you and you two had a proper talk since the first age. He expressed his regret and admitted he fell into madness during the darkening. You saw how he avoided looking at you, more specifically your blind eye. It seemed your eye was an awful reminder of what he did to you. 

- You stopped him from rambling and told him how you stopped blaming him years ago. The circumstances back then were awful and you understood that your grandfather’s death was the last straw for him, causing his madness. The only one to blame for it all was Morgoth as he was the one who orchestrated it and took advantage of your father’s vulnerability.  

- Your father praised how wise you had become and how he was grateful that you did not follow him blindly like the rest of your brothers. 

- You grew wiser over the years, thanks to your experiences, even if they brought you a lot of pain and sorrow. 

- You embraced him and together you wept, finally being able to let go of the pain and be at peace with your past.

Tag list: @4mnd4aph

[doodle-pops]

House of Feanor | Dating A Powerful Mage Reader

Request: First off I would like to thank you from the bottom of my heart, your writing has brought me much joy. May I please ask for some headcanons for the house of Fëanor dating a gn reader who is a powerful mage?❤️ – @verydazedreamland

A/N: Always a pleasure, luv! Thank you for requesting 🤗

Masterlist | Navigation

➽ Feanor

• Fëanor had, of course, been deeply fascinated by your magic the moment he saw it. Not just fascinated—obsessed. He was relentless in his questioning, dissecting your abilities with the same manic energy he applied to his crafts. When you demonstrated a spell that conjured fire in your palm, he scoffed. “Impressive, but do you shape it? Do you command its form, its intent, its very purpose?” He immediately tried to argue that his own control of fire through forge and creation was more refined. You ended up in a heated (literal) duel where both of you nearly set half of Formenos ablaze before someone intervened.

• He was the worst about stealing your books and magical tools for his own research. “I borrowed it,” he insisted, holding a tome clearly marked with your warding spells. “You had it sealed with magic. So that means you wanted me to open it.” His grin was infuriatingly smug. The book had exploded with a harmless but embarrassing puff of glitter when he cracked it open, a security measure you had placed specifically to deter thieves.

• He refused to acknowledge that your power sometimes outstripped his in areas unrelated to craftsmanship. When you levitated an entire banquet table just to clear space after a feast, he acted unimpressed. “A minor parlour trick. If I had wished to move the table, I would have built something far more elegant than lifting it with brute force.” He was absolutely seething with jealousy but would never admit it.

• He had a tendency to dramatically proclaim your superiority when it suited him. If someone else dared to belittle magic in comparison to smith-craft, he would immediately shut them down. “You dare to question the power of my beloved?” he’d sneer, eyes aflame. “They can summon a storm with a whisper. I have seen them bend the very elements to their will! Tell me, what have you made that can compare.” The poor elf he was berating had only suggested that magic wasn’t as tangible as physical creation.

• He loved when you weaved spells into his creations. The first time you enhanced one of his swords with an enchantment that made it cut through nearly anything, he held it reverently, eyes alight with pure awe. “This is perfection.” Then he turned to you with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “We should create everything together.”

• He hated when your magic got the better of him. The time you charmed his cape to stick to his shoulders no matter what, after he kept discarding it dramatically during arguments, was an infamous incident in the household. “You think this is funny?” he demanded, tugging fruitlessly at the fabric. “You shall rue this day.” You did not, in fact, rue it. You laughed until your sides hurt.

• He had an unfortunate tendency to get too involved in your spellwork. If he saw you preparing a complicated ritual, he would immediately offer (force) his assistance, despite not actually understanding half of what you were doing. “Magic is but another form of craft,” he reasoned, grabbing an ingredient he did not need to be touching. The resulting explosion singed his eyebrows. He sulked for three days.

➽ Maedhros

• Maedhros was more measured in his fascination with your power, though it was clear he found it deeply impressive. He had a quiet, steady admiration for the way you wielded magic, often watching you in silence as you worked. Sometimes you’d catch his thoughtful gaze, and he’d simply say, “It’s…beautiful. The way you command it.” There was a kind of reverence in his voice, as if he saw your magic as an art form rather than just a tool.

• He was, however, keenly aware of the dangers of magic. “Don’t push yourself,” he would warn whenever you performed powerful spells, his voice low with concern. If you overexerted yourself, he would immediately step in, catching you before you could fall. “You do too much. You don’t always have to prove your strength.”

• When he sparred with you, he made sure you fought fairly—no overwhelming magical barrages, no instant teleports. He insisted on strategy and balance. “You can’t rely only on magic,” he told you as he disarmed you during a training session. “A blade is just as effective when wielded correctly.” He handed you back your sword with a smirk. “Try again.”

• He hated feeling helpless when you were injured or drained from magic. The first time he saw you collapse after a particularly intense spell, he panicked. “No, no, stay with me,” he said, his voice tight with barely restrained fear. He held you tightly until you stirred, his grip not loosening for long after.

• He got far too used to your magical conveniences. If you teleported something to him once, he expected it forever. The day you refused to summon his forgotten sword before a battle, he gave you the most betrayed look imaginable. “You did it yesterday.” You stared at him. “And now I’m teaching you responsibility.” He groaned in exasperation.

• He hated your invisibility spells. You once used one to sneak up on him, whispering his name just to startle him. His sword was out before you could blink. “Don’t do that,” he snapped, shoving his blade back into its sheath. “Do you want to get stabbed?”

➽ Maglor

• Fiund your magic utterly enchanting. He had an almost poetic appreciation for it, often weaving its imagery into his songs. The first time he saw you manipulate water into dancing shapes, he composed an entire ballad about it on the spot. “It moves like music,” he said, watching the shifting patterns with awe.

• He was the most dramatic when things went wrong. If you accidentally hexed an object and it backfired on him, he acted like he had been mortally wounded. “This is betrayal,” he declared when his harp started playing dissonant notes at random due to a misfired spell. “You have cursed my art!” He refused to admit he actually found it funny.

• He loved being part of your magical experiments, though he was more cautious than Fëanor. “Are you certain this won’t explode?” he asked warily as you handed him a glowing crystal. When it did explode, he sighed heavily, rubbing soot from his face. “I knew it.”

• He always wanted to see the artistic side of your magic. “Make the lights dance,” he’d say, gesturing toward the sky. He loved when you conjured illusions—patterns of stars, shifting mirages of golden fire. It was pure wonder to him.

• He had a habit of using your magic against you in the pettiest ways. If you irritated him, he would immediately find a way to use a spell you taught him in revenge. “Oh, you’re tired?” he said sweetly, levitating his harp just out of your reach when you tried to take it from him. “If only someone had the energy to retrieve it.”

• He despised teleportation spells when used on him. The first time you teleported him mid-sentence just to cut off his lecture about proper song structure, he was furious. “I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF A POINT,” he roared as he reappeared across the room. You had never laughed harder.

• He was, however, always grateful when your magic protected them. “You are a wonder,” he murmured after a battle where your wards had shielded them from an ambush. “I would compose a hundred songs in your name.”

➽ Celegorm

• Celegorm was delighted to be dating a powerful mage. He saw it as the perfect complement to his own skillset—he was a master hunter and warrior, you were a master of the arcane. “You do the magic, I do the stabbing,” he declared proudly. “It’s balance.” You reminded him that your magic could also do the stabbing. He didn’t seem to see the issue.

• He constantly tried to convince you to use magic to cheat at hunting. “Teleport the prey into my hands,” he said, grinning. You refused. “Alright, fine, just use magic to slow it down?” You refused again. “What about a tiny spell? A suggestion in its mind that it wants to be caught?” He was relentless, but you never gave in.

• Huan adored your magic. He was particularly fond of the spells you used to conjure floating lights, chasing them like an overgrown puppy. Celegorm pouted every time Huan responded to you faster than to him. “I raised him,” he grumbled as Huan happily sat at your feet. “And now you’re the favourite.”

• He was far too reckless when asking you to enhance his weapons. “Make my arrows explode,” he said excitedly, handing you his quiver. You stared at him. “Do you want to set yourself on fire?” He seemed completely unfazed by the idea. “I’ll dodge it.” You absolutely did not give him exploding arrows.

• He loved practical magic the most—the kind that made his life easier. When you first demonstrated a spell that could clean gear instantly, he immediately demanded you apply it to all his equipment. “This is the greatest use of magic I’ve ever seen,” he declared as his previously bloodstained armour gleamed good as new.

• He was the worst when you tried to meditate or concentrate on spellcasting. “What’s this one do?” he asked, poking at your ritual set-up. “Tyelko, don’t touch that—” The ensuing magical backlash sent him flying across the room. He groaned from where he landed. “Okay, so that’s what it does.”

• He hated when you teleported away mid-argument. The first time you vanished before he could get the last word, he just stood there, absolutely livid. “YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE!” His voice echoed through the halls as he stormed around looking for you. You heard him ranting even after you’d reappeared hours later.

• He had the absolute gall to demand magic be used for his own convenience but complained when you used it on him. The first time you levitated him out of bed when he refused to get up, he flailed wildly. “THIS IS A VIOLATION OF MY RIGHTS,” he shouted as he hovered helplessly in mid-air. You let him drop unceremoniously onto the floor.

• He had no patience for subtle spellwork—he wanted big magic. “Make the sky change colours,” he urged. “Make fire rain from above—wait, no, don’t actually do that, that was a joke.” He did not like when you demonstrated the actual scale of destruction you were capable of. “Alright,” he muttered after witnessing a storm you summoned, “remind me never to piss you off.”

• He was oddly tender when he saw you exhausted from spellcasting. He never said much in those moments, but he’d gather you in his arms without question, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “You push yourself too hard,” he murmured. “Even magic has limits.”

➽ Caranthir

• Acted unimpressed by your magic at first. He hated admitting he found things fascinating, so he pretended it was nothing special. “Hmph,” he grunted the first time you summoned an entire storm with a flick of your hand. “I suppose that’s useful.” You could see the barely restrained awe in his eyes, though.

• Was the worst at dealing with magic he couldn’t control. The time you enchanted his armour to be lighter and more flexible, he refused to wear it at first, claiming it felt wrong. “It’s unnatural,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably. “I don’t like when things don’t behave as they should.” He did end up wearing it, but only after grumbling for a week.

• Took issue with your lack of structure in magic. “How do you know what will happen?” he demanded as you prepared a spell without extensive planning. “It’s instinct,” you said. He hated that answer. “Instinct is how people get killed.”

• He was secretly fascinated by the precision of your magic. He’d never admit it outright, but he observed your spell with the same scrutiny he applied to trade and strategy. He especially admired enchantments that required delicate calculations. “It’s like forging,” he mused once, watching you weave a complex spell. “If you get even one thing wrong, the whole structure collapses.”

• He hated when you used illusions against him. You once created a fake letter to trick him into thinking Curufin owed him money. His reaction was immediate and furious. “THAT BASTARD—” He had already stormed off before you could tell him it was a joke. You had to physically stop a fight.

• He found magical transportation deeply unsettling. The first time you teleported him without warning, he staggered and nearly fell. “DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN.” He needed a full minute to stop looking like he was going to punch something.

• He was surprisingly gentle when tending to you after spell exhaustion. He wasn’t good with words, but his actions spoke for him—holding you close, wrapping his cloak around you, silently pressing a flask of water into your hands. “You should rest,” was all he said, but his grip on your wrist lingered.

• He loved when you made magic useful to him. When you placed protective charms over his belongings to prevent tampering, he looked genuinely pleased. “Good,” he muttered, nodding approvingly. “This will stop certain people from touching my things.” He shot a glare at Curufin.

➽ Curufin

• Was thrilled to be dating a mage. He saw it as an opportunity for limitless collaboration. The first thing he did was start drafting projects that combined his craft with your magic. “We’re going to make something unique,” he promised, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Something legendary.”

• He was absolutely insufferable when you first tried to enchant one of his blades. “Ah, no, you’re doing it wrong,” he declared, immediately trying to ‘fix’ your spellwork. “Curufin, I have been practising magic for decades,” you reminded him. “And I have been forging for centuries,” he shot back.

• He had no patience for spells that weren’t immediately useful. When you demonstrated a beautiful but functionally useless illusion, he just stared. “That’s it?” he asked. “It does nothing?” You sighed. “It’s art, Curufin.” He frowned. “Art should do something.”

• He had a deep interest in magical artefacts, constantly pressing you for knowledge. “How was this enchanted?” he asked, holding up an ancient amulet. “What’s the method? The materials?” He was relentless in his questioning, absorbing everything like a sponge.

• He hated being bested. The time you outwitted one of his traps using magic, he refused to let it go. “I am the master of strategy,” he huffed. “You cheated.” “I used magic.” “Same thing.”

• Incredibly smug when your magic enhanced one of his creations. The first time you strengthened his armour with an unbreakable spell, he smirked. “So you admit it,” he said. “My work is worthy of magic.” You rolled your eyes.

• He was oddly soft in moments when magic drained you. He never said much, just guided you to sit, pressing a hand to your forehead. “Reckless,” he murmured. “But brilliant.”

➽ Amrod

• Loved using your magic for fun—and sometimes, for chaos. He quickly realised that certain spells could be used for pranks, and he was far too eager to participate in your mischief. When you enchanted his brother’s boots to stick to the floor, Amrod collapsed in laughter while Amras cursed you both. “Oh, this is brilliant,” he wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “We are keeping this spell.”

• He had an unhealthy enthusiasm for magical transportation. The first time you teleported him mid-stride, he whooped in excitement instead of being disoriented. “Again!” he demanded. “No one will ever catch me if I can blink out of the way!” He started pestering you to teach him how to teleport, despite having no magical aptitude whatsoever.

• He was infamously reckless, and your magic became his favourite safety net. He leapt off a cliff once, fully trusting that you’d catch him with levitation magic. You did, but not before letting him plummet just long enough to hear him scream. When he landed safely, he glared at you. “That was unnecessary,” he huffed. You raised a brow. “Was jumping off a cliff necessary?” He grumbled something about ‘dramatic flair.’

• He was the first to challenge you to a magical duel—not because he thought he could win, but because he wanted to see how far he could push you. He came at you with twin blades, grinning wildly as you dodged and countered with spells. When you finally pinned him to the ground with vines sprouting from the earth, he just laughed breathlessly. “That was amazing,” he admitted. “Alright, your magic wins.” Then he grinned up at you. “But I almost got you.”

• He had no patience for long magical incantations or rituals. If he needed something done, he wanted it immediately. “Can you just zap the firewood into a pile?” he asked one evening, rubbing his hands for warmth. You made the logs explode instead. He stared at the smouldering debris and then at you. “Right,” he said slowly. “That’s on me. I should’ve been more specific.”

• He was a terrible student when you tried to teach him minor magic. He had the attention span of a squirrel and constantly got distracted. “Are you even listening?” you asked as he poked at the runes you’d drawn. “Yes, yes,” he waved you off. “Something about channelling energy, focusing my—ow!” He yelped as he electrocuted himself. You smirked. “That’s what happens when you don’t listen.”

• He loved it when you used magic to enhance his hunting. When you silenced his footsteps with a spell, he grinned like a child with a new toy. “I’m unstoppable,” he declared before vanishing into the forest. He promptly fell into a hidden pit because you forgot to mention the spell only silenced noise—it didn’t help him see better.

➽ Amras

• He was a bit more wary of magic than his twin. He respected it but didn’t fully trust it—especially after witnessing some of your more volatile spells. “You do realise half of these things could kill us, right?” he asked dryly after you accidentally blew a hole in a tree during an experiment. “If you ever turn on us, I’m running first.”

• He was extremely particular about magical interference in his domain—hunting. “No magic,” he warned before a hunt. “We do this properly.” That rule lasted until you found a particularly massive beast and he muttered, “Okay, maybe one spell.”

• He was a nightmare to keep track of when he decided to avoid your magic. The first time you tried to locate him with a scrying spell, he dodged it by moving constantly, making your vision blur with shifting images. When you finally found him, he smirked. “Magic’s powerful,” he admitted, “but I’m faster.” You had to grudgingly agree.

• He refused to let you teleport him. “No, I’ve heard the stories,” he said, backing away when you reached for him. “I’ll walk, thank you.” The one time you teleported him anyway, he appeared upside down in a tree. He hung there, blinking. “I hate you.”

• He was actually quite good with magical traps. The first time you showed him how to weave a snare with enchanted threads, he caught Amrod in it immediately. His twin dangled from a tree, yelling. Amras smirked at you. “Best lesson ever.”

• He had a deep appreciation for your ability to manipulate light and shadows. When you used magic to blend into the darkness during a hunt, he was genuinely impressed. “Alright,” he admitted. “That’s actually useful.”

• He was constantly suspicious of enchanted objects after you pranked him too many times. He refused to sit in a chair if he even suspected you had tampered with it. “I know you did something,” he said, glaring at the completely normal chair. He eventually sat—only to find himself stuck in place. You laughed while he cursed.

➽ Celebrimbor

• Celebrimbor was utterly fascinated by your magic. Unlike Fëanor, who saw it as a challenge, he saw it as an art that could enhance craftsmanship beyond imagination. He was constantly asking to study your spells, sketching runes in his notebooks. “What if,” he mused one night, “we infused enchantments directly into the metal during forging?” The resulting experiment ended in an explosion. He was delighted.

• He was extremely meticulous with magical theory. If you cast a spell in front of him, be prepared for an onslaught of questions. “What’s the range?” he asked after you demonstrated a shield spell. “How long does it last? Can it be layered? Does it dissipate naturally or require a dismissal incantation?” You groaned. “Can’t you just enjoy the magic?” He grinned. “This is how I enjoy it.”

• He was the only one who actually studied your spellbooks instead of just skimming for the flashy parts. The first time he cast a minor enchantment correctly, he looked so pleased with himself. “Did you see that?” he asked, eyes bright with excitement. “I did it!”

• He was always working on enchanted objects, many of which he designed specifically for you. When he presented you with a ring that amplified your power, he watched you put it on with something close to nervous anticipation. “Try it,” he urged. You cast a spell and felt it surge through you, stronger than ever. His smile was pure joy.

• He had a terrible habit of muttering spell theories at inappropriate times. You once caught him whispering about rune structures during a feast. “Tyelpë,” you hissed, nudging him. “We are eating.” He blinked at you. “Oh. Right. Food.” He barely paid attention as he continued scribbling in his notebook.

• He was absurdly competitive when crafting magical items. If you enchanted something, he immediately tried to improve upon it. “Your fire gem is strong,” he admitted, inspecting it, “but what if we stabilised the energy with an embedded lattice structure” The next day, he presented you with his version—twice as refined. You gaped at him. “Did you sleep?” He waved you off. “Details.”

• He adored seeing you work, often sitting silently just to watch your magic unfold. When he saw you manipulate raw energy into a tangible form, he whispered, “It’s beautiful.” It was rare to see him so openly in awe, but when it came to you, he always was.

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @involuntaryspasms @ladyenchanted @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora @elficially-done-with-life @feanorynz @6esi @eunoiaastralwings @will-0-wsps

If you wish to be tagged, click the Taglist Link to join.

[batsyforyou]

A Wild Puddle Encounter!

Tags: Puddles, water

Author's Note: So, I went to bed last night and was smacked with this idea. It kept me really entertained so I hope someone gets a giggle out of it, cause I did.

Taglist: @asianbutnotjapanese

Would lift you over the puddle, help you over 

Glorfindel, Maglor, Celebrimbor, Beleg, Ecthelion, Thranduil, Gildor, Elrond, Finarfin, Fingolfin, Feanor, Finrod, Caranthir, Celebrimbor, Meludir

Would walk through the puddle and tease you about avoiding it 

Celegorm, Beleg, Mablung, Curufin, Feanor, Maeglin, Thranduil, Glorfindel, Fingon, Legolas, Celebrimbor

Would purposely splash the puddle 

Elladan, (me), Celegorm, Curufin (the not fun version), Meludir, Amras, Amrod, Fingon, Legolas

Would take off their cloak and put it over the puddle for you too cross

Finarfin, Fingolfin, Glorfindel, Gil Galad. Eonwe, Irmo, Finrod, Celebrimbor

Would avoid it, walk around

Erestor, Maedhros, Lindir, Curufin, Feanor, Elrohir, Caranthir, Turgon, Caranthir, Maglor

Would notice you avoiding it and make you “Embrace the suck” by making you walk through it

Sauron, Feren, Gildor, Namo, Haldir, 

Could not care it exists and walks straight through 

Eonwe, Celegorm, Mablung, Maedhros, Namo, Ulmo, Beleg, Legolas, Haldir, Eol, Sauron, Ulmo, Celebrimbor,

Would walk through the puddle while complaining or with a grimace on their face

Lindir, Turgon, Caranthir, Elrohir 

Happily splashes the puddle and later complains about their boots being wet

Elladan, Amras, Amrod, (me)

Would challenge it to a fight Pokémon style 

Glorfindel, Celegorm, Beleg, Fingon, Elladan, (me)

masterlist

[felagund-the-valiant]

Broken Bonds - Curufin x f!reader + Celebrimbor

They say love conquers all, but they are wrong.

Words: 1.4k

Tags: hurt/no comfort, young!Celebrimbor

A/N: idk what came over me but I had sudden inspiration and had to try and put it into writing. Enjoy the angstiest thing I’ve written so far jfc

You sat next to Telperinquar as he was flipping through his notebook. Trying to pay attention to your son’s excited ramblings about forging techniques was proving difficult with the storm raging inside you.

The past few weeks had been tumultuous to say the least. Watching the man you loved stand stoutly by his father’s side as he rallied your fellow Noldor against the Valar and put forth his maddening oath to retrieve his precious gems from the dark enemy – an oath none of his sons hesitated to swear. Receiving reports of the man you loved spilling the blood of innocents at the behest of his father. The worst part had to be that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t completely shield your son from hearing about his fathers’ deeds.

“Ammë?”

You startled a little as your son called out to you. He was looking at you expectantly, waiting for a reply to whatever he had asked. Guilt surged through you at seeming so uninterested in your son’s studies when in truth you couldn’t be prouder of the understanding of his father’s craft he was already showing at his age.

A forced smile appeared on your face. “Forgive me, sweetheart, my thoughts were elsewhere.”

Tyelpë frowned at your response and let his eyes wander back to his notes. “Were you thinking about Atto?” he asked quietly.

Tyelpë might not have been a grown man yet, but he was old enough to understand that whatever was happening since the Darkening was waking some kind of darkness in his father’s heart as well.

You sighed and reached out to pull him closer, making him wrap his arms around you without hesitation. Your fingers idly combed through his strands of soft black hair as you tried to think of something soothing to say – you couldn’t come up with anything and so the two of you sat there in silence.

“Is Atto a bad man now?” Tyelpë asked after a while. The words pierced straight through your heart. Never in your life would you have thought that a child born in the Blessed Realm would have to worry about such a thing.

“He has made some very bad decisions.” It was a grotesque understatement but a naïve motherly part in you still clung to the hope of preserving what was left of your son’s innocence.

A knock sounded on the door and moments later your husband stepped into the room. He wore a smile on his face, but you could feel the fire sizzling beneath the surface through your bond. As he approached, you pressed a gentle kiss to Tyelpë’s forehead and let go of him.

“Give us a moment, will you?”

He nodded sombrely, collected his notebook and gave his father a brief hug before leaving the room.

Curufinwë sat down where your son had previously sat and slowly took your hands in his, giving you a chance to pull away. You didn’t, at least for now.

“How are you doing?” he asked lowly as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand.

You smiled mirthlessly. “Just fine. Is there something I can do for you?”

“I’m wondering if you’ve changed your mind?”

Your stomach churned – you knew he was referring to whether or not you would accompany him on his accursed journey to Beleriand.

“I haven’t. I’m not coming.” You shot him a warning look towards the end of your sentence. Countless hours had been lost to heated debates on whether or not Curufinwë would be departing alone.

His grip on your hands tightened. “Surely you would not want to deprive our Tyelpë of his mother’s presence.”

You wrought your hands free from his hold and rose to your feet, fists clenched at your sides. “We’ve been over this. You will not take him from me. I won’t allow it.”

Curufinwë rose to his feet as well, towering over you – looking every bit as fiery and determined as his father and yet showing an unusual amount of restraint compared to your previous arguments. Maybe they were wearing him out the same as you. “Am I not his flesh and blood as well? And am I not the one you bound yourself to?”

You could feel his fëa reaching out to yours, a gentle caress that made you shiver and curse yourself. You hated that, despite the sickening blind loyalty he showed to his father, despite all the Elven blood he’d spilled, you still found yourself longing for him. Craving the warmth of his touch and the sweet entanglement of your fëar. He smirked knowingly, able to feel your feelings as if they were his own.

Curufinwë stepped forward and once again gave you a chance to pull away before he wrapped you in his arms. Curse him. Why did he have to still be so considerate of you even now when he had lost this same fight more times than you could count?

His familiar sandalwood scent enveloped your senses, letting a bittersweet comfort wash over you. For a moment there were no destroyed Trees. No dark enemy. No oath threatening to tear your family apart.

“I love you, melda,” he whispered. “And I know you still love me, even if you might try to hide it in shame. I don’t wish to be parted from you and Tyelpë. The thought of being on the other side of the ocean and unable to ever see you again makes my heart weep.”

A wry voice in your head commented that he should’ve considered that before blindly following his father into madness.

It took all your willpower to free yourself from his embrace and take a steady step back. You closed your eyes and only looked at him again after taking a steadying breath.

“I don’t want our son to grow up so blinded by loyalty to his father he’d draw his sword on innocents at his command.” I don’t want him to end up like you, is what you were truly saying, and you both knew it.

“Melda-“

“Don’t call me that,” you said, pleased that your voice didn’t waver.

A sickening sudden thought struck you and you raised your right hand to examine the elegant golden ring on your index finger. It felt like yesterday that the two of you had joined hands in marriage, swearing each other loyalty until the end of Arda. To think that your husband demanded such loyalty even now, after everything he had brought on your family.

You clenched your jaw as you brought up your left hand as well and slowly slid the ring off your finger. It felt wrong. So very wrong. You could feel your fëa roaring in agony as you parted it from Curufinwë’s, a gaping abyss left in its wake.

A mixture of pain and utter betrayal flitted across Curufinwë’s face before it hardened and whatever warmth and vulnerability he had shown you was gone at a moments notice. “We’re leaving in three days,” he said in a strained voice and stomped out the room, slamming the door behind him so harshly the frame shook.

You sank to the ground, your legs not wanting to support you any longer and let out a strangled sob. On sheer instinct your fëa reached out for comfort but found only emptiness which just made you sob harder. You clenched your fist around the wedding band you now held in your hands and finally flung it across the room, hearing a faint clinking from where it landed.

The door creaked open so hesitantly, you knew it couldn’t possibly be your husband returning.

“Ammë?” A shaky voice called out and you hastily tried to wipe your tears away, but it was of no use.

Tyelpë rushed to your side at seeing you so distressed and wrapped his arms around your neck. “Were you arguing again? Atto looked so angry.” You could hear in his voice that he was desperately trying not to cry, but he soon gave in. Few things were as distressing to children as seeing their parents – their safe haven – angry at each other.

You clutched your son to your chest, letting your tears wet his dark hair and feeling steadfast determination bubble up in your chest.

No one would take him from you.

Curufinwë would not drag him across the ocean and poison his mind with his twisted version of loyalty.

You were going to fight tooth and nail to keep Tyelpë safe, this you silently promised him, as you sat there cradling his trembling body.

[elficially-done-with-life]

Since you seemed to like my last poll on this, I decided to do a part two with the elves I did not include last time. Hope you have fun!

[asianbutnotjapanese]

Extra branch

Characters: Sons of Feanor & reader(Platonic)

Warnings: English is not my first language, fluff, an oc character, talking about exchanging babies, angst, blood, characters death(it's the Silmarillion), suicide.

Tags: @batsyforyou & @definitelynotaria I'm sorry if this is not you were expecting and I couldn't think of anything for the twins🙂.

His little feet running to catch up with his mother's steps, he insisted on walking beside her when she told him she could carry him.

"I am a big boy now!" Maedhros raised his arms high and above his head, "I can reach the windows handles" he told his mother.

They passed by a lot of shops and people, some looked at them with displeasure, others acted as if they did not exist and a few glanced at them kindly.

But little Nelyafinwe did not care as long as his father and mother loves him, that's what his father told him before.

They reached their destination and the bell above the door announced their entry, Nelyafinwe's eyes stared at every space of the room, the walls were covered with colorful curtains and tapestries, silk carpets covered the floor, he saw a small stick burning but a nice smell it produce, everything gave warmth to everyone who enter.

In the corner an elf with light sliver hair, on her face there was funny drawings and she was looking at Nelyafinwe the same look that cat look at him. She smiled and moved the fabric aside, as she stood with a slightly bent back, jingling sound fills the room thanks to all the necklaces and bracelets she was wearing, the tailor's slow faltering steps walked towards Nerdaniel and hugged her.

After exchanging warm words and kisses she tilted her head at Nelyafinwe and gave him a pat on his head "he has Therinde's nose," her voice was weird to Nelyafinwe's ears like she hasn't drink any water lately "make sure you don't break it hmm”

Behind the lady, Nelyafinwe saw a little girl, perhaps his age, her eyes nearly squeezed shut and pouting face she stared at Nelyafinwe.

Ilvananis, as his mother called her, returned to the corner and carried the little one. “she's a little shy on first meetings” kissing the girl’s head and gently putting her down near Nelyafinwe "but she never stops talking when you get familiar with her".

"He looks weird"

Her frowning face glanced at the child and slowly pulled her finger from his cheek.

"My sister looked like this for a while."

Nelyafinwe standing near her, both of them on their toes peering over the crib to the newly born squashed red face baby.

Nodding, he told her how much this baby has been crying since his father brought him, not giving his mother a moment to rest.

"I saw your mama when I came, she looked sooo tired"

The two children moved away from the crib and tiptoed cautiously towards Nelyafinwe's room. As they played quietly Nelyafinwe told his friend how much he wished he had a sister, for it does not make sense his mother and father got another boy, they already have him.

"Maybe we can replace your brother with my sister," her eyes lit up as she stared at Nelyafinwe "both young and with black hair, no one would find out"

Nelyafinwe thought for a moment and looked away at the open window, light shining the whole room.

"And my sister does not cry that much," putting another block on their castle "your mama will love the quietness."

As if Canafinwe sensed their plan, he let out a loud scream that shook the house.

"You have more mud on you than a root" Turcafinwe's head turn in an unusual turn made him look like an owl towards the voice.

"Grandmother said it is fine as long we're not hurting ourselv"-"grandmother is not the one who will break her back cleaning this floor"

with her hands on Turcafinwe's waist she pulled him down the rails and on the solid ground she put him.

She helped him take off his shoes 'maybe his bare feet will be cleaner' she thought but her eyes could not believe what they saw, mud was covering his feet.

"We put mud inside our shoes,"

a young boy with short black hair took off his shoes too, showing off his sister "I saw mother put mud to her face so I figured out it will make our feet beautiful" with a grin he finished his reasons.

"That was a different kind of UGH STOP LAUGHING AND HELP ME!!"

groaning, she begged Nelyafinwe who was clinging to his stomach trying to hold himself while laughing.

It had been a long time since she saw them, years ago, fifteen years ago was the last time she saw them, Prince Feanaro could not stay in one place for a while and travelling from place to place made it harder for her to send them a letter.

But a few days ago she received one from Nelyafinwe. They are visiting the city and stopping by her family's workshop to get some new clothes and they have a surprise, she wondered what kind of surprise they have, maybe another pet.

Remembering the family sizes her grandmother and she started working on new clothes for them. At noon one day there was a knock on their door jumping from her chair, she raced towards the door and sending it flying open nearly pulling it off the hinges and here they are prince Feanaro radianting as ever and lady Nerdanel with her holding a toddler?

To Nelyafinwe and Turcafinwe her eyes drafted Turcafinwe looks taller now...taller than Canafinwe!! and standing near him was another dark haired boy with a grumpy look on his face.

A new brothers Nelyafinwe got and she will help him babysit.

Morifinwe, the one with reddish cheeks was far more calm than Canafinwe and Turcafinwe when they were his age, young Curufinwe still young to be left alone so attached to Turcafinwe's hip he was kept.

Beads and embroidery catch Morifinwe's eyes and she was more than happy to teach him.

"Your grandma would love this, you would be her favorite".

Her grandmother warned her about the fire over and over again, "No, you won't die quickly, you'll burn while you're awake."

In the middle of the brother's screaming and the blazing fire, the rising smoke and crashing waves, she wished Umbarto was asleep and did not feel anything.

Three. She counted three, three brothers had fallen. All the dead bodies around her, she only searched for them, she looked at her sword and felt nauseous, her stomach twisted at the thought of death of others.

a blazing fire, high smoke obscuring the blue sky and crashing waves, once again they stood witness as the red-headed fall, the north wind blew, carrying with it the weeping of Canafinwe.

It is funny that wherever the sons of Feanaro go, fire will follow them.

Was it her screams, or was it the roaring of fire?Was it her chest wheezing or was it the fire hissing as it embrace Nelyafinwe's body.

Her feet carried her away and she walked aimlessly for an indefinite time, she felt the water covering her feet, then her knees, then her waist, she felt cold as she was carried away, her light body sinking and her sleepy eyes were heavy unable to open them, she swears she can hear Canafinwe singi-lamenting.

[lovefairymina]

Dear Lord Curufinwë,

Once again, I noticed people tend to keep comparing you with your father. I saddens my heart that there are only few of those who sees how different you can be at times. If you ever get troubled by the shadow of your father and his achievements, please, know this:

Whenever your eyes light up, there's a hint of gold and green in them, that gives your stare such wonderful warmth.

Your voice, while it isn't that deep, is rich. I heard it when you were singing a couple of times and couldn't get enough. Even if your brother Macalaurë had been there also. I can't put in words the way it stands (or osunds) different, but it always puts me at ease.

Your hair has warmer sheen to it, and shorter waves too. Am I too bold to admit that my fingers itch to browse through it? Probably yes. My apologies.

The way you move, it's so fluid and light and at the same time, there's firmness too.

The smiles that come from the bottom of your heart are a sight to behold. I miss them.

There's a lot more to see if one looks for it. Surely I'm not the only one who niticed? May the heartfelt smiles find their way back on your lips.

Sincerely, your silent, timid shadow.

Tucking your letter into the inner pockets on his robe, he gave it a light pat as it sat beside his heart and smiled internally. It wasn't every day, in fact, he had never received a letter from anyone admiring or acknowledging the differences and greatest in him. These were words he would keep quietly to himself.

[kiatheinsomniac]

❝contains: caranthir, celegorm, curufin, fëanor, finrod, legolas, maedhros, maglor, orodreth, thingol, thranduil❞ ✩ — fan favourite ♡ — contains smut

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

I like how responsive you are

I love the way you look when I'm inside ♡

ᯓ★ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

when he realises you want to ride his face ♡

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

the proprieties of courtship ♡

I'd rather die than marry you

ᯓ★ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

when he realises you want to ride his face ♡

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

wedding night ♡

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

do not be afraid, litttle one. I will not hurt you ♡

to tease a fëanorian ♡

my jewel, my heart

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

there is richest juice in poison-flowers

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

cuddling on a rainy day

tall for a dwarf

away from the court

ᯓ★ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

he finds out his modern s/o writes about him

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

make it fit ♡

insecurities

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

keep your eyes open, look at me, baby ♡

harp strings

ᯓ★ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

when he realises you want to ride his face ♡

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

cursed queen

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

winter arrangements ♡

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬:

the king's bath chambers ✩ ♡

allow me to rectify my mistake

nightmares

sweeter than poetry ♡

nobles are a trial

does it make you nervous when I stare? ✩ ♡

a scholar in the royal library ♡

peonies

pain relief ♡

golden morning ✩ ♡

this body I love so dearly ♡

parent-teacher conference

ᯓ★ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬:

he finds out his modern s/o writes about him

soft headcanons

jealous thranduil

his s/o has dark hair and tan skin

ᯓ★ 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 / 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 / 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬:

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 + 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 [discontinued] a modern au thranduil x reader where you find yourself in a secret relationship with your best friend's father and potentially losing your mind

⊹₊ liked it? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ comms. ∘ taglist ∘ follow/reblog

[autumnshighlady]

Am I Making You Feel Sick?

Celegorm x reader

summary: Celegorm has taken things too far, and you're both pushed to the breaking point and things get heated

warnings: THIS IS NOT A HAPPY ENDING FIC! celegorm is an asshole and reader matches his energy, borderline emotional abuse

fic based off of the song Strangers by Ethel Cain

word count: 2.8k

request: you are such an amazing author, i am in awe of your writing! if you are accepting silm requests, can i request a celegorm x reader? we all know that this lil meow meow can be very rude and cruel, even to people he loves, especially when he's stressed :((( what if reader is his wife and lately tielko has barely paid her any attention, causing them to argument :(( and in the middle of the argument celegorm being celegorm gets impulsive and throws his wedding ring towards reader :(((( today i woke up and chose angst

DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

“Are you listening to a thing I’m saying?” You snapped at Celegorm, patience wearing thin. Your husband was pacing back and forth, his fists clenched and his blue eyes dark. His long, pale blonde hair was unkempt, hanging loosely around his face. Normally, your husband took care in his appearance, weaving and braiding intricate jewellery into his locks. When you had first met Celegorm all those centuries ago in Valinor, he was always dressed immaculately, a playful smirk on his face and a mischievous light in his eyes.

But there was no sign of the elf you married before you. There was no light or kindness in his face as he scowled at the marble floor, muttering to himself in Quenya and ignoring you. “I do not think Finrod will appreciate you wearing holes in his floors,” you added. “So stop pacing and talk to me.”

“We cannot stay here,” was all Celegorm said sharply for the tenth time that evening. “I will not be indebted to my pathetic cousin who is content to let a mortal man pursue that which belongs to my father.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. Too naive you were to think that Celegorm and Curufin’s peace and gratitude to their cousin for sheltering them would last. You had lost count of how many times you had been relocated. Your husband was prideful, his refusal to accept help and be seen as weak becoming your downfall.

“And where do you propose we go, exactly?” All patience you had left was gone, and you crossed your arms and stood in Celegorm’s path, halting his incessant pacing. “Morgoth broke the siege, the Pass of Aglon has been taken, we have nowhere else to go. We have to stay in Nargothrond until we regain our strength. We suffered a heavy loss, my love–”

Celegorm’s eyes narrowed. “You have lost nothing,” he hissed. “It is I who have suffered. You weren’t on the damn battlefield.”

His words cut you like a knife. Normally you could handle your husband’s angry moods, fits of rage that would blow over as quickly as they came. But lately they have been more and more frequent, each one leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Centuries of war and an endless quest had slowly chipped away at your husband like stonemasons on mountain rock. He had become a shell of the person he was when you fell in love with him, one that was harder to forgive with each argument.

“How DARE you?” You snapped, lifting your chin up to meet his gaze with equal fire. “You think I have not suffered amidst this ceaseless fighting? You think the constant war, the waiting on the edge of battle and having to pack up and move every decade has not had an effect on me? I may not be on the battlefield, but a piece of me is with you every time you go out there in that armour to try and get back some jewels. All because of that stupid oath.” 

To your fury, Celegorm merely rolled his eyes, turning away and striding over to the table by the bed in the guest room you were currently residing in. He grabbed the pitcher of wine, pouring yet another full glass and speaking with his back to you. “I will not have you whining about what you signed up for by marrying me,” he said dryly, taking a large swig from his goblet.

You scoffed, blood boiling. “Only you would call basic communication ‘whining’. I signed up for a marriage to the elf I loved. The elf who spent his days hunting and riding through the forest, who braided my hair in the morning and kissed me goodnight–”

Angrily, Celegorm slammed the goblet down onto the table, splattering droplets of red wine on the wooden table. They dripped down onto the pristine marble floor like blood from a wound. You flinched, stepping back as your husband stormed over to you. There was a mix of hurt and rage on his face as he grabbed your jaw in his hands, cupping your face. The gesture was anything but tender - it was possessive and dominant in a way that scared you. “Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?” He asked, voice trembling slightly.

Tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “I’m saying that the elf I married and the one before me are not one in the same, and I do not recognize the latter.”

“That wasn’t an answer.” Celegorm said more sternly. “Yet it told me everything I needed to know.”

You shook your head, the grip your husband had on your jaw starting to ache. “Do not be like this. Do not make me your villain just because you want an enemy you can actually defeat and beat down.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you are losing this war, Tyelkormo. And you are taking it out on me and shutting me out because I am a reminder of all your mistakes. I am the face of your guilt and that is causing you to pull away from me because you cannot come to terms with everything you’ve done.” Your throat was thick with sadness, stomach churning at having finally uttered your darkest thoughts out loud. Never in any of your previous fights did you lay the truth so raw for your husband, ripping apart his delusions of grandeur and forcing him to face his reality.

Celegorm’s eyes darkened. “Everything I have done? It has all been for you, to end this quest so we can finally settle down and have a life together.”

You grabbed his wrists gently. “Do not lie to yourself, husband. You cling even now to thoughts of your own glory, and you are blinded by your own ambition.”

Celegorm growled and ripped your hands off of his wrists, releasing your jaw harshly and turning away. As you rubbed your jaw, the son of Fëanor continued his pacing angrily. “I swore an oath to my father–”

“As you did to me!” You yelled, voice echoing throughout the large chamber. Done you were with trying to reason with your husband. His anger and pain had festered like a wound for years, transforming and morphing into a dark and twisted creature that sought only the satisfaction of vengeance.

Celegorm matched your rage, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Why must you insist on my loyalty to one oath and my subversiveness to another?”

“Because one of those oaths is destroying you!” You crossed your arms in defiance.

“I cannot seem to figure out which one that is, as of late.”

You flinched as if Celegorm had struck you. The room felt still, as if any love between you two that was warming the space had been snuffed out. But your tears did not fall, to your surprise. Nor did you feel deeply wounded. You felt numb, as if those words he uttered had switched off all physical and emotional feelings. “If you feel our marriage is the oath that is ruining your life, then why are you still in it?” Was all you said, coldly.

Celegorm ran a hand through his ragged hair. “Why are you? If you feel shackled to this life then why stay with me?”

“Stop turning my questions around because you’re too much of a coward to answer them.”

He smouldered, that fiery rage inherited from his father blazing up within them. “I am no coward.”

“Yes, you are.” You let the words lash out of you, empathy gone. You wanted to hurt Celegorm, to make him feel a fraction of what you felt right now. “You are a coward who is too afraid of what others think. You are a coward who is too afraid to make the choice that you know deep down is right, a choice for which you refuse to make since it is easier to blame an oath you spoke in the fragility of youth all those centuries ago.”

Your husband angrily grabbed the table with the spilled wine, hurling it with all his might against the wall. The wood splintered and shattered with a loud crack, its broken pieces falling to the floor amidst the red liquid. “How dare you–” he began to yell but you cut him off angrily.

“Ah, yes, resorting to throwing things in a tantrum when I force you to see the truth,” you rolled your eyes and scoffed. “You really are your father’s son.”

Celegorm’s face went red, and he spoke through gritted teeth. “That is a compliment. My father was a great elf!”

“Your father was a fool,” you spat. “It was his arrogance, selfishness, and pride that got him killed, and I now see you will suffer the same fate.”

You did not stick around to hear your husband’s response as you brushed past him, slamming the door behind on your way out.

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

The evening air felt good on your skin, the gentle water lapping at your feet. You sat on a flat rock by the edge of one of the cave’s pools, soft lantern light giving the area a yellow glow. It had been hours since your fight with Celegorm, and you had not crossed paths. You knew your husband would not be the first to apologise, not after everything you said. You were well aware that your words were hurtful, yet no guilt burdened your shoulders. It felt oddly freeing to finally explode like that, to throw words in his face instead of just being on the receiving end. 

Undoubtedly, Celegorm was sulking. Your husband’s temper was something you were always well aware of, and usually you were shielded from it. And for the last few decades, you had tried to understand his pain, to look at things from his perspective to justify his anger.

Yet now, you could not even do that. Celegorm’s madness had gone beyond your reach, the weight of his oath and actions dragging him down under the surface. You were no longer sure if you wanted to drown with him. A hundred years ago, you’d have walked through Angband for your husband. But now, you were tired of fighting. Tired of going to bed knowing that since you’ve been with him throughout this whole ordeal, you served as a walking reminder of the life he could no longer have. 

Celegorm would not be satisfied as Finrod’s guest for long, especially after the King allowed the human Beren to seek out a Silmaril with his blessing. You used to be able to predict how far Celegorm would go to get what he wanted, but now you were not so sure. Would he truly usurp his cousin in a mad scramble to gain control? You did not know.

Familiar footsteps sounded behind you. You didn’t have to turn around to know that Celegorm was standing behind you.

“Am I no good? He spoke quieter this time, sadness replacing the anger in his voice from earlier. “Am I simply not good enough for you anymore?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, refusing to turn and face him. “It is not a question of being good enough for me, my love,” you said gently. “It is a question of being good enough for yourself, of being the male I know you can be. Your endless pursuit of the Silmarils has been at the detriment of me, your brothers, your soldiers, everyone. Yet you keep pushing as if we do not matter.”

“You don’t understand,” he continued, his voice echoing up the chamber of Nargothrond’s caves. “I have to do this. It matters more than anything.”

“More than me?”

A cruel laugh sounded from behind you. “Ah, so we come to it long last.”

You frowned, pulling your feet out of the water and standing up to face your husband. There was no sorrow in his eyes, his mood changing like a storm amidst the flowery spring fields. “What does that mean?” You asked through narrowed eyes.

“It means I always knew that one day you’d ask me to choose between you and the Silmarils,” he said heartlessly, his voice callous and devoid of love. “I’m surprised it took you this long, in perfect honesty.”

Anger churned in your gut. “You have forced my hand into doing so!” You snapped, voice rising. “Am I supposed to live forever in your shadow as a slave to your mindless choices? To never prioritise my own happiness or seek a life outside of war and quests?”

Celegorm gritted his teeth. “Again, you knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“But did you know how far it would go? How many losses you would suffer, how many battles you’d lose and how many fortresses would be taken? If you had, would you have married me?”

“I love you!” Celegorm insisted, his blue eyes wide and wild. “I have always loved you and wanted you by my side. It matters not what we face as long as we are together.”

“Do you not hear your own words?” You were yelling once again. “The horrors we have faced have been partially your own doing, you fool! We have been made refugees Eru knows how many times already, been rationing food and living in fear all because of a war you did not start but have certainly helped uphold with vigour!”

“Keep your voice down, many listening ears are turning our way.” Celegorm hissed, glancing around and the shadows of elves scurrying past you in the distance, no doubt wanting to get away from the yelling.

“Good, let them hear us,” you said sternly. “Now they’ll see you exactly as you are.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “And what is it, exactly, that I am, dear wife? A kinslayer? Murderer? Thief? I am many things but a liar is not one of them. I’ve always shown you exactly as I am, and you have accepted me until now. What has suddenly changed that entices you to hold this against me now?”

You threw your hands up in frustration. “Because you have not seen the error of your ways and refuse to change! I had hoped that as time went on you would mend that broken part of yourself and start choosing the path out of this darkness, but lately you have been rejecting that choice at every turn.”

“Everything I have done has been for a reason! There has been no error of my ways, nor do I need to change! I am simply doing what I swore to do and should not be punished for ensuring I see it through! You have not seen what I have seen, and yet you judge me for my actions. You have not been my wife as of late but a burden I must carry around, one that I can never make happy.” Celegorm’s rage was almost animalistic, like a wounded lion lashing out with anger. “If I’m such a horrible male, then go find someone better.”

With his final words, he yanked off the sapphire wedding ring from his finger, throwing it into the pool. You exhaled in shock, something inside of you breaking as the small but steady stream swept the ring away, carrying it into the deep crevices of the rock never to be seen again.

With a deep sadness, you looked into his eyes. The anger had subsided, and they were now wide as if for the first time in the entire argument, he couldn’t believe his actions. It was like a candle inside of you had been snuffed out - no longer was a scrap of the elf you fell in love with residing within the one before you. The Celegorm you loved was truly gone, replaced by a dark, angry shell of who he once was.

“You’re pathetic,” was all you whispered in disgust as the shock on his face changed into desperation.

“Shit, wait,” Celegorm pleaded, grabbing your hand and trying to hold it within his own large ones. “I didn’t mean–”

“Yes, you did mean it.” You ripped your hand out of his grip before turning to leave. After a few steps, you paused, as if some final hope within you wanted him to follow.

But he didn’t.

You sighed, turning to face your lover for the last time. “Consider yourself freed from the burden of our marriage,” you said coldly. “I hope you get those Silmarils you seek so desperately, and when you finally hold them all you can think of is what it cost you. And as the blood on your hands from the kin you have slain stains their precious light, and all that you hold dear is gone and turned to ash, I pray that you think back on our courtship. I hope the image of me haunts your every waking moment; and not even Lórien himself can banish the ghost of my memory, even as it walks amidst your dreams. I hope the mere thought of me makes you feel sick until the end of time itself.”

[doodle-pops]

Hi Doodle!

Have you ever heard the expression “He fell first she fell harder” or “She fell first he fell harder” ?

Which elf would the expression fit the best in your opinion? I hope I’m clear enough! 😭

Have a nice day!

“He fell first, she fell harder.”

— Maedhros, Celegorm, Curufin, Fingon, Argon, Finrod, Angrod, Ecthelion, Glorfindel, Maeglin, Gwindor, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir

“She fell first, he fell harder.”

— Feanor, Maglor, Caranthir, Amrod, Amras, Celebrimbor, Fingolfin, Turgon, Finarfin, Aegnor, Galdor, Egalmoth, Rog, Thingol, Beleg, Gil-galad, Erestor