What If We Met Earlier?

What if we met earlier?

Previously, when I met someone, I thought about how strange it was that fate decided to bring us together.

After all, we were very different; we didn't fit into each other's lives at all.

Then I began to imagine how my life would've changed if I had met that person earlier?

Or, if we ran into each other on the street, would we just pass on by? Would we take notice of each other?

Too different, with no common interests, and busy with our own lives.

We would've locked eyes only for a second and moved on, forgetting about the fleeting meeting forever.

And only a terrible catastrophe could make us not just look, but see.

If we had met earlier, how would everything have turned out?

In a world where Dmitry was just a passerby, and I was an ordinary woman.

Disregarding time, positions, and events, would we be on the same side?

The Monster Who Ate Words

Request: Hello (*^^*) Can i please request an Arranged Marriage AU story for Maedhors x Vanyar Reader? Let's say reader is a bit intimidated by Maedhors ( who has not shown much interest in her ). And Maedhors doesn't want to scare her so he keeps his distance.

Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

Genre: Arranged marriage au

Summary: Nelyafinwe was good. Good enough in your books. Good looking from the times you had met in childhood, a great politician if rumors from Tirion were to be believed, and tall enough to expect respectably tall elflings in the future. 

AN: Thanks for requesting! I hope you like this :3 I really enjoyed writing this. Unedited for now don't kill me pls I have 3 little fish to feed.

“He hasn’t bothered to show face even once!” You scowl adjusting the errant pendant. “So why should I be the one to write to him?” You turn to your father, who by now has folded into himself like a petulant sunflower at sunset. 

“He is a prince!” Your mother roars undeterred. “He probably does more than just writing children’s fables in his free time, daughter mine.” To this your father protests silently to your mother. Only to flail helplessly.

Such has been the case for your parents. Your father- the distressed damsel and your mother- a fire-breathing drake. 

And you were nothing if not her rage personified. Which was wildly out of place in most Vanya settings. Some astray friends of yours had even jested in passing about you taking after your father-in-law, Crown Prince Feanaro more than his eldest. 

An arranged marriage to Nelyafinwe hadn’t been the most unexpected. Born to Ingwe’s brother, you expected such. Given that you rarely held the passion and patience for sweet nothings for a romance of your choosing.

Nelyafinwe was good. Good enough in your books. Good looking from the times you had met in childhood, a great politician if rumors from Tirion were to be believed, and tall enough to expect respectably tall elflings in the future. 

Additionally, much to your ire and your friend group’s joy, if a certain Telerin minstrel was to be believed then, the son of Feanaro possessed worthy assets. A fact that you swore did not bother you to anyone who dared to bring up the topic. 

Your betrothal to him had been set up 2 loar ago. An agreement was established through embellished scrolls and a piece of jewel exchanged by each side. That jewel now the emerald that had been forged into the pendant that hung from your neck for the past 2 loar. 

Binding you to the Feanorian with the dignity less than that of a stabled mare. 

Love, you did not expect. But such coldness had hurt. Absence of even a single acknowledgement had hurt. This your mother knew well. Better than your soft-hearted father could ever understand. For even rocks nestled in the depths of Earth crack under the pressure of an unyielding hammer. 

“My letter or the absence of it will make little difference.” You whisper and what follows is your mother’s uncanny silence. 

You have written to him. For two loar, you have written. Every week at the beginning of your betrothal, letters about Vanyamar, about your favored writings, or scents and silks that you would like for your wedding. 

Those soon dwindled to monthly updates with perfunctory greetings and everyday happenings. Sometimes about stories that you wrote for the children in court. Or about elflings born to your siblings. 

No matter what you wrote, Nelyafinwe never once did reply. As if your letters by some sorcery never slipped past the borders of Vanyamar. 

The last one had been short. A last-ditch effort on your end. A simple request. To meet at the Feast of Trees. That is all you had wanted of your betrothed. And he had failed. 

Out of all of Finwe’s line, Nelyafinwe had been the one to not show his face. A fact that you bitterly swallowed with a forced smile and cheerfully chatted with your future in-laws.

At least Nerdanel and Feanaro seemed to possess basic decency of character to bear the Vanya thrust their way.

Nelyafinwe despised it. The lingering scent of a promise that his betrothal held. Unfailingly binding compromise. 

A business matter to be ended over correspondence. He hadn’t given it much thought. His resentment did not allow it. 

The piece of amethyst that arrived with the letter had been handed off to Curvo and his father, who within a week produced a hairpin that ended up somewhere in the mess of Nelyafinwe’s room or the drawers of his study on most days. Gathering dust away from his gaze. Next to the letters. 

He had desired a choice. Unlike the horde of brothers and cousins that fate had thrusted into his life, Nelyafinwe had desired love.

But that too had been stripped away from his hands when his grandfather in a matter of a single day roped his father, who on most days detested Vanyar to arrange a wedding with one for his eldest son. 

It started as a silent protest that soon became a habit. The letters from Vanyamar were thrusted into the farthest drawer where the light of the trees barely ever lingered. 

Why could you not understand his signs? Was it not clear that he did not desire such a connection? He did not want your words or get to know you. He did not want it because depriving himself was the only way of showing his father what this had done to him. 

For once, he did not wish to be agreeable, gentle Nelyo everyone had made him into. This was his rebellion.

Some part of him had protested such cruelty towards you. What fault was it yours that elders desired a marriage of convenience? How fair was it for you to be the scapegoat of his ire? But those voices remained quiet.

So it came as a surprise when one day, your words found him despite all he tried to run away from them. 

Crouching next to Ambarussar, who sat surrounded by the hurricane of their mess of toys and all the possible possessions, Nelyafinwe saw tiny books. Handwritten illustrated books that the twins read aloud as Kano snored next to them, sprawled on a chaise. 

“What are you reading?” Maitimo sat next to them, only for the twins to ignore their usual protocol of climbing all over him. Amras sighed, barely glancing up at his elder brother “The Monster Who Ate Words.” He replied, his eyes glued to the book.

The pages of the book, inked it a clean hand, next to the drawing of a long red serpent with blazing eyes caught Maedhros’s interest. “Sister-in-law wrote these,” Amrod looked up at Nelyo, thrusting the book in his hands. “She designed the serpent after you!” The twins giggled now sharing a book as Maitimo flipped through the pages.

A childish tale indeed. The story went- on a long lonely island lived a raging serpent with red mane and glimmering silver eyes. The serpent terrorized the island with his loud roars and ability to devour words. This left the world empty and elflings bereft of any tales or lullabies. 

The ridiculous tale further developed into a group of outcast elflings gathering the words hidden in their textbooks to fight the serpent that detested sums and numbers. 

Nelyafinwe scoffed finishing the book. He was perfectly capable of summing, and no, he did not hate numbers or mathematical calculations. 

It took a moment for him to spot the empty room. Ambarussar had fled to Eru knows where and Kano had left the room unnoticed by Nelyafinwe. Rays of Laurelin had dimmed casting a mellow light in the room. 

Suddenly Maitimo wanted to go far away from the cluttered room. He wished to get on his mare and wander until his mind calmed down. Until his heart rate evened out. He despised this restlessness. 

For his heart could not remember the last time he had held your letter. The last time he had the chance to thrust it into the drawer. He could not remember. 

He had failed to notice it. This settled like dread in his gut. That something had changed. Somehow, from a stranger he had become the monster in your stories. 

Nelyafinwe does not run away. He knows he cannot do that, no matter how much his heart craves for freedom from such obligations. He is the eldest-born Feanorian. Named after the high king of Noldor. 

So seated in the silent dark of his study he opens the drawer full of the same writing as his brother's books.

Picking up the Amethyst hairpin heavy in his palm, he pulls his hair back and uses his betrothal gift after 2 loar. It holds his hair with the comfort he is familiar with. His father’s work never fail their purpose. But this one in specific is achingly familiar as it settles into his hair. 

With a distant curiosity, he wonders what gem of his claim rests on your being. He cannot remember the conversations 2 loar ago. He had merely agreed to the first suggestion by Indis and his mother. 

One by one he reads through your letters. Words leave him heavy with guilt. His throat- scratchy with the fullness of his heart and eyes. 

He is one wretched betrothed. Worthy of all the villainy in your books.

He reads from the first letters of ill concealed excitement of introductions. Of likes and dislikes, ideas of works in progress, to rare fleeting letters about weather and courtly affairs. 

In a matter of hours, he goes through the process of getting to know you and losing you. But he does not stop reading. He does not deserve the respite of that ignorance. 

And so he picks up the quill and begins his labor. For days he sits in his study replying to the letters. His likes, dislikes, hobbies, courtly affairs, and a short review of The Monster Who Ate Words. 

To quell the heartache of his own making. This in the least was of his own choice.

Me internally when mom talks to people in the grocery store forever (also probably every teen ever)

SCM- Department Of Wishes

Tauxolouve ♐️ - The Letter

A/N: Finally posting another fluffbruary story. 😭🤧 Hopefully it turned out alright.

For fluffbruary event - ( @fluffbruary )

Prompts : euphoria | cloudy | sophisticated

14th September, 2024

~~~

Your opened the envelope as quickly as you could without damaging the contents inside. Unfolding the letter, you started reading.

Written in bold and crisp hand writing the letter started with a question "My dear, how are you?" The corners of your lips curled up as soon as you saw that. The letter informed you in details about the journey and about the achievements. You felt the overwhelming sensation of pride and joy, grew within your heart.

Eyes glued to the paper, your heart beat quickened. You took in fast, shallow breaths as you read the words- "I shall be returning next month, on 7th Monday."

You stopped reading and took a deep long breath, closing your eyes as you exhaled. It seemed all the tension from your shoulders had been gently lifted.

Then onwards, you read a bit slow, relishing every word that has been so loving shared on that paper.

After carefully folding the letter, you brought it against your lips and softly yet quickly kissed it before putting it back inside the envelope. You picked up the photos slowly, making sure not to accidentally scratch them.

He and his teammates, looked so happy smiling at the camera. Your eyes lingered on his smile, for a brief moment.

The other photo was taken in a library, you assumed as there were massive shelves, all filled with different types of books. He held an open book, eyes focused on its pages. He wasn't looking directly at camera. Perhaps one of his friends had taken the photo. You put the photos inside the envelope before putting it inside the box, that you had so lovingly used to store all the letters close to your heart.

A gush of sudden cold wind hit your face as you opened the window. You tucked the strands of loose hair behind your ears and smiled softly, watching the sky turn cloudy and grey.

-

You had been feeling giddy all week; the euphoria rising in your heart. You would have had a difficult time describing your feelings in words if someone would have asked; when Tauxolouve open the door.

The affectionate look in his eyes, his gentle smile which brightened as his eyes look upon yours; it had taken all the restrain in your being not hold him close in a tight hug. He stood there stupefied. Until your father smiled softly and said, "Hello, Mr. ( last name )." He quickly composed himself and politely greeted your parents before inviting you all in the house.

He introduced you to his parents and some of his relatives, who had also been invited along with some close friends of his parents.

Soon conversations began and the snacks were being served. You wished to assist his mother but she firmly refused saying you should relax.

Once the dinner was over and the conversations were reaching their conclusions the guests congratulated Tauxolouve and his parents on their way out.

You two walked back to the front gate to see off his aunt. She gently took your hands in hers and wishpered, " I hope to be invited to the wedding soon." You blushed slightly at her words as a mischievous smile graced her lips.

Once the guests had all left, you two slowly walked back to the living room.

" I agree with you on that, Mr (your father's name)", Tauxolouve father said laughing. You assumed it was one of your dad's famous jokes which he loved to tell. They seemed to be enjoying their conversation as you mother said something next, which made them all giggle in delight. Not wanting to interrupt, you two quickly wished them all and left to rest for the night.

-

Changing into something more comfortable you sat on the bed waiting for Tauxolouve. The door opened and Tauxolouve walked in wearing loose clothes. His hair was slightly wet. Few droplets of water dripped down from his neck length hair onto his shirt.

He sat beside you and brought his arms around you and gently hugged you. "I missed you, my love," he said before placing a kiss on your forehead.

You looked up and softly touched his cheeks before bringing his face closer to yours for a kiss. He eagerly kissed your back, savouring the feeling of your lips against his.

You weren't sure where to start, what to ask first. There was so much you wanted to tell him, so much has happened in the past 3 years, so much you wanted to learn from him, so much you wanted him to share with you.

Sensing the conflict in your heart he gently held your hand, " We have time ahead of ourselves, love. Let us rest for now." He smiled at you, awaiting your decision. You nodded in agreement and returned his smile.

You were lying on your sides facing each other. His heart felt light as he spoke. He told you about his work in the university and a bit more about the research and the culture of that foreign land. You were immersed in the conversation and asked a few questions here and there, which he gladly answered.

"Feeling sleepy, my love?" You asked as he struggled to keep his eyes open after some time. "A little bit" he said sheepishly.

"You should sleep. We can continue this conversation tomorrow."

He laid on his back, in a more comfortable position. You started running your fingers through his hair, gently stroking his scalp. A relaxed smiled appeared on his face as he slowly closed his eyes.