#dark erestor

[earthlybeam]

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Hello. It's great.🥰💕 Is it possible for you to add more elves or characters to this request? (For example, other elves you wrote)

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Legolas, Elrohir, Elladan, Erestor, celeborn Versions are below. At the bottom of this post, I’ll leave link to of the last one featuring Mirkwood elves Feren, Meludir, Galion elros.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

Yandere/Dark Elf Legolas x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

𖧧 Legolas, with his keen elven senses and deep emotional connection to the world, would find himself utterly captivated by the presence of the fairy reader. To him, you’re not just beautiful—you’re ethereal, a creature of magic that even the most ancient songs of the elves could not capture. His obsession begins quietly, admiring you from afar, but it quickly becomes all-encompassing. Every moment he spends away from you is an eternity, and every word you speak to someone else stirs a jealousy in him that he cannot suppress.

𖧧 Legolas believes the world is far too dangerous for someone as delicate and magical as you. The shadows of Middle-earth, the wars, the greed of men—all of it threatens to tarnish the beauty of your existence. He uses this reasoning to keep you close, never allowing you to stray far from his sight. His words are sweet but laced with unyielding control “The world outside does not deserve your light, meleth nîn. Only I can ensure you are safe.”

𖧧 Isolation as a Form of Love He would gradually isolate you, not out of malice but because he truly believes he is the only one capable of understanding and appreciating you. He would take you deep into the heart of Mirkwood or another secluded haven, creating a sanctuary just for you. Every aspect of your surroundings would be tailored to your liking, but you would find yourself entirely dependent on him.

𖧧 Legolas’s control over you wouldn’t always be overt. He would gently guide your choices, framing his manipulation as concern. If you expressed a desire to explore the wider world, his face would fall, his voice soft and pleading “Do not leave me, my star. The world out there is cruel, and I cannot bear to lose you to it.”

𖧧 Fierce Jealousy if Anyone who dares approach you would feel the weight of Legolas’s jealousy. His calm, composed demeanor would shift into something darker when he feels his claim on you is threatened. His sharp eyes would narrow, and his words would become cold and cutting “You waste your time with others who cannot even begin to understand you. Return to me, where you belong.”

𖧧 Darker Displays of Affection In private, Legolas’s affection would border on suffocating. He would cradle you in his arms, his voice filled with a desperate intensity “You are mine, forever. No one else will ever love you as I do.” He would press fervent kisses to your face and neck, his grip on you firm, as if afraid you might vanish from his grasp.

𖧧 Legolas is deeply skilled at balancing his dark possessiveness with moments of overwhelming tenderness. He would bring you gifts—delicate flowers, shimmering stones, and other treasures he collects during his travels. He would present them to you with soft smiles, but his words would carry an undertone of need “I found this for you, meleth nîn. Do you see how I think of you always?”

𖧧 The Obsession with Your Magic As a fairy, your connection to nature and magic would fascinate and enthrall him. He would often sit silently, watching you with an intensity that borders on unsettling. If you use your magic, he would be in awe, but also possessive, feeling as though your abilities were something he must protect—something no one else should witness.

𖧧 Physical Possession as Legolas’s need to have you close manifests in physical ways. He insists on holding your hand whenever you walk together, his grip unyielding. He loves to touch your hair, often braiding it with flowers he’s picked, whispering how your beauty humbles him. However, his touch can sometimes feel almost desperate, as though he fears losing you if he lets go.

𖧧 Violent Tendencies Toward Threats Should anyone threaten or attempt to harm you, Legolas would shed all pretense of calm. His skill as a warrior would transform into something terrifying. He would eliminate the threat without hesitation, his piercing gaze and unrelenting precision a clear warning to anyone who might think of crossing him again.

𖧧 Emotional Manipulation If you ever challenge his possessiveness or express a desire for more freedom, Legolas would turn to emotional manipulation. His voice would break, his eyes filled with sorrow “Do you not see how deeply I love you? Everything I do is for you. Without you, I am nothing.”

𖧧 Legolas’s dark love for you is a mix of genuine adoration and an overpowering need for control. He cannot fathom a life without you, and his every action reflects this. Whether through tender gestures, whispered promises, or unyielding possession, he is determined to keep you by his side, no matter the cost.

𖧧 Legolas would often speak of eternity, of how your souls are entwined and meant to be together forever. He would promise you that even after the world changes, even after the time of the elves has passed, his love for you would endure “You are my everything, meleth nîn. The stars will fade, the forests will wither, but my love for you will never die.” In his dark, yandere state, Legolas’s love is a consuming fire—intense, unwavering, and terrifying in its depth. Yet beneath the darkness, there remains a glimmer of the elf who simply wants to cherish and protect the one he loves most in the world.

𖧧 Legolas would be endlessly fascinated by your fairy wings, treating them as sacred and beautiful. He would spend hours marveling at their colors, texture, and delicate movement. He insists on helping you groom them, using the excuse that they are too precious to be left unattended. His touch is both reverent and possessive, his fingers lingering a little too long as he smooths out the edges or untangles strands caught in your feathers.

𖧧 While he is gentle with your wings, there’s a darker undertone to his care. He sees them as a symbol of your freedom, something he desires to bind to himself. He would often whisper, “These wings are too perfect for the cruel world—they should carry you only to me.”

𖧧 Legolas will often wrap his arms around you from behind, pulling your wings flush against his chest as if claiming them. His fingers would trace the base of your wings where they meet your back, a possessive gesture that sends shivers down your spine.

𖧧 In public, Legolas would be subtly protective but in private, his need for physical closeness becomes overwhelming. He always ensures he is touching you in some way—whether it’s holding your hand, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, or resting his forehead against your shoulder while his arms cage you in.

𖧧 His kisses are deep and all-consuming. They leave no room for doubt about his feelings. His lips would trail from your mouth to your neck, always hovering near the curve of your shoulders where your wings start. He sees this area as uniquely yours and uniquely his to adore.

𖧧 If you’re seated together, he’ll pull you onto his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. If you protest or try to move, his grip tightens slightly. He murmurs, “I cannot let you go. Not now, not ever.”

𖧧 Legolas would weave delicate, intricate braids into your hair, often incorporating small feathers or leaves he finds in the forest, symbolizing his bond with you. These tokens of nature are his way of marking you as his.

𖧧 He insists on sleeping beside you, his body curled protectively around yours. His hand often rests on your wing or the small of your back, a silent reminder of his claim. He sleeps lightly, waking instantly if you shift or try to leave his side.

𖧧 Legolas is highly territorial. He reacts coldly to anyone who even glances at you too long. If another elf expresses admiration for your wings or your beauty, Legolas’s dark side flares. While his exterior remains calm, there’s a burning intensity in his gaze, and he ensures the offending elf is kept far from you.

𖧧 Legolas crafts a special space for you within the forests of Mirkwood, a sanctuary that only he can enter. While it’s beautiful and serene, it’s also a gilded cage. He insists it’s for your safety, whispering, “The world outside is cruel. Here, you’re protected… here, you’re mine.”

𖧧 He carefully watches your every movement, memorizing your habits and preferences. He uses this knowledge to anticipate your needs, always offering what you want before you ask. This might seem sweet at first, but over time, it becomes clear that he’s keeping meticulous control over every aspect of your life.

𖧧 He dislikes it when you interact with others, even your fellow fairies. If you must spend time away from him, he lingers nearby, watching from the shadow , ensuring no one gets too close.

𖧧 Legolas uses physical affection as both comfort and a reminder of his dominance. When you seem restless or distant, he pulls you into his embrace, holding you so tightly it’s almost suffocating. He murmurs sweet nothings in Sindarin, his voice low and soothing, “You belong with me, meleth nîn.”

𖧧 His love for your wings leads him to kiss them often, a possessive act that feels intimate and intense. He trails his lips along their edges, whispering how perfect and ethereal you are, his voice carrying a dangerous edge.

𖧧 If you ever try to resist his advances or question his possessiveness, he becomes eerily calm. His voice softens, but his words carry a quiet menace: “You don’t understand, do you? I’m the only one who can truly protect you. The only one who loves you as you deserve.”

𖧧 Legolas sees you as fragile and delicate, despite your own strength. He insists on accompanying you everywhere, even if it’s just a short walk in the woods. He keeps his bow and quiver ready at all times, his keen eyes scanning the surroundings for any potential threats.

𖧧 If you ever get hurt, no matter how minor, he becomes frantic. His hands shake as he tends to your wounds, his voice breaking as he whispers, “This world is too cruel for someone like you. I won’t let it harm you again.”

𖧧 Over time, his protectiveness becomes suffocating. He starts discouraging you from flying too far, insisting it’s dangerous. He grounds you in more ways than one, using his love as both a shield and a cage.

𖧧 Legolas constantly reminds you that his love for you is eternal. He sees your bond as something that transcends time and space. “We are bound, you and I,” he says, his voice filled with both tenderness and a chilling certainty. “Not even death could part us.”

𖧧 His gestures of love are both beautiful and overwhelming. He carves intricate wooden sculptures of your wings, sings hauntingly beautiful songs about your bond, and writes poems about your beauty. Yet all these acts carry an undertone of obsession—his love is a flame that consumes everything in its path.

𖧧 To Legolas, you are not just a companion or lover. You are his muse, his obsession, and the center of his world. And he will do whatever it takes to keep you by his side, even if it means clipping your wings to ensure you never leave him.

ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ ၄၃ ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ

⭐️𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓱𝓲𝓻

Yandere/Dark Elf elrohir x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

✧ Elrohir’s fascination with you would begin innocently—his admiration for your ethereal beauty and magical presence would seem pure. However, this admiration would quickly turn obsessive. His deep love and admiration for your fairy-like grace would warp into an insatiable need to possess every aspect of you. Your laughter, your scent, the light in your eyes—all of it would become things he craves, things he believes should belong to him alone.

✧ Unyielding Protection As a dark version of himself, Elrohir’s protective nature would grow extreme. Any threat to you—real or imagined—would spark an immediate and merciless reaction. He would eliminate any potential danger with cold precision, ensuring no harm could ever reach you. To him, even his brother Elladan might seem like a rival or a threat, and his protective instincts would drive him to isolate you from everyone, including family.

✧ Elrohir would see the world as too dangerous for you, your delicate fairy nature too precious and fragile to be exposed to its harshness. He would insist on keeping you close at all times, often in places he deems “safe.” Whether it’s a hidden sanctuary deep in Rivendell or a secluded glade in the woods, these places would become your gilded cage, crafted by him to keep you away from anything he fears might hurt—or take—you away.

✧ Subtle Control Though his love is obsessive, Elrohir would initially cloak his control in kindness. He would subtly manipulate your choices, making you believe that staying close to him is what you truly want. But as his dark tendencies grow stronger, he would begin to exert more overt control, dictating what you wear, where you go, and who you see. He would justify this as “ensuring your happiness” or “protecting your freedom,” while in reality, he’s ensuring no one else can influence you but him.

✧ Elrohir’s jealousy would be as cold and sharp as a blade. If anyone even looked at you with admiration, he would see it as an affront to his claim on you. He wouldn’t lash out openly but would ensure the offender disappears—either banished from his presence or worse. To him, no one else has the right to so much as dream of you.

✧ Elrohir’s love would manifest in overwhelming gestures. He’d shower you with gifts—rare jewels, enchanted items, or delicately crafted things that reflect his adoration for you. But every gift would come with a possessive undertone, a reminder that these treasures are from him, and they symbolize your bond. He’d often remind you that no one else could offer you the love and devotion he does.

✧ Intense Physical Affection His physical affection would be intense and all-encompassing. He’d hold you tightly, almost as if he feared you might vanish if he loosened his grip. His kisses would be deep and consuming, laced with an almost desperate need to reaffirm his claim on you. These moments might feel romantic at first, but they’d quickly take on a suffocating edge, revealing his need to dominate every part of your heart and soul.

✧ Elrohir’s confessions of love would be both poetic and chilling. He’d speak of how you are the light in his otherwise dark world, the one being who gives him purpose. But there would be an undertone of obsession in his words, a belief that you are his alone. He might whisper things like, “You are my starlight, my sanctuary. Without you, I am nothing—and without me, you are lost.”

✧ Consequence of Defiance If you ever tried to resist his control or leave him, Elrohir’s dark side would fully emerge. His normally soft and composed demeanor would vanish, replaced by cold fury and unrelenting determination. He would make it clear that escape is not an option. “You belong to me,” he would say, his voice low and unyielding. “You cannot run from me, for I would find you no matter where you go.”

✧ The Line Between Love and Possession In his heart, Elrohir would truly believe that everything he does is for your sake. He would see his obsessive control and suffocating love as the ultimate expression of devotion. To him, your bond transcends choice or consent—it is fate, unbreakable and eternal. Even as his actions grow darker, he would justify them in the name of love, believing that no one else could ever love or protect you as he does.

✧ Private Intensity Behind closed doors, Elrohir’s affection would be overwhelming. He would pour all of his emotions into your shared moments, whether through whispered words of devotion or intense, consuming embraces. He would cherish every second with you, but his adoration would carry an edge of possessiveness that makes his love feel more like a binding vow than a gift.

✧ A Dangerous Protector While Elrohir’s dark love would often manifest in possessiveness, it would also make him an unrelenting protector. Any true threat to your safety would be met with swift and deadly action. He would not hesitate to strike down anyone who dared to harm or even approach you without his approval. His protective instincts, while born of love, would leave a trail of destruction in their wake.

✧ Elrohir would see your relationship as eternal, unbreakable by anything or anyone. He would frequently speak of “forever,” not as a promise but as a statement of fact. To him, you are his destiny, his one true love, and he would do anything to ensure that you remain by his side for all eternity—whether you want to or not.

✧ Elrohir's physical affection is intense and consuming, always leaving you feeling overwhelmed by the sheer weight of his devotion. He's drawn to your delicate, otherworldly form like a moth to a flame. Your wings-so fragile and luminescent-are his greatest fascination. He's obsessed with their beauty and the way they shimmer in the light, often running his fingers over the edges with a reverence that borders on obsession.

✧ Elrohir makes it his responsibility to care for your wings. He gently brushes them, ensuring they remain pristine and free from harm. If you're ever injured, he's the first to notice, tending to your wounds with a tenderness that contrasts with the dark possessiveness in his gaze. But his care comes at a price: he won't let anyone else even glance at your wings, seeing them as a part of you that belongs only to him.

✧ When Elrohir holds you, it's as if he's trying to fuse your soul with his. His arms wrap around you tightly, his hands tracing the curve of your back with a possessive touch. He's careful with your wings, always mindful not to damage them, but his grip on the rest of you is unyielding. To him, holding you this way is a reminder that you're his and no one else's.

✧ Elrohir worships you with every touch and gesture. He kneels before you, his hands cradling your face or resting on your wings as if you're a divine being sent to him alone. He often kisses the tips of your wings, murmuring words of devotion in Elvish as his lips graze the fragile edges. These moments are both tender and unnerving, as his love feels more like a claim than a gift.

✧ Elrohir insists on being close to you at all times, often resting his head against your shoulder or wrapping his arms around your waist while you sit together. His presence is inescapable, his hands always finding their way to your arms, your hair, or the base of your wings. He craves the warmth of your body, needing the physical connection to reassure himself that you're still his.

✧ Restrained Passion Though his love for you is fiery and consuming, Elrohir is careful when it comes to your wings. He knows how delicate they are and handles them with the utmost care, but this restraint only amplifies the intensity of his affection elsewhere. He kisses you deeply and possessively, his hands gripping your waist or shoulders as though he's trying to anchor you to him.

✧ In private, Elrohir's affection becomes even more overwhelming. He whispers sweet but dark words in your ear, his hands stroking your wings as he tells you how much he loves and needs you. He might say things like, "Your wings are the light of my existence, but it's your heart I crave the most. You were made for me, and I will never let you go."

✧ Elrohir is fiercely protective of you, especially your wings. He refuses to let anyone near you, even if their intentions are innocent. If anyone so much as brushes against your wings, his calm demeanor vanishes, replaced by cold, simmering fury. He'll do whatever it takes to ensure that no one else can touch what he sees as his alone.

✧ To keep you safe, Elrohir constructs a hidden sanctuary just for the two of you. This place is designed to accommodate your wings, with wide, open spaces for you to stretch them and soft perches where you can rest. Every detail is meticulously planned, but it's all done to keep you isolated, away from prying eyes and potential threats.

✧ Possessive Displays of Affection Elrohir loves to touch your wings in public, not just as an act of affection but as a way to assert his claim. He'll run his fingers along the edges or rest his hand on your back, just below your wings, letting everyone know that you're his. These gestures are subtle yet unmistakable, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind that you belong to him.

✧ Dark Devotion His care for you borders on reverence, but it's tinged with a dark intensity that can be suffocating. Elrohir sees your wings as a symbol of your beauty and uniqueness, something that sets you apart and makes you his perfect match. He would go to any lengths to protect and preserve them, even if it means keeping you away from the world.

✧ Eternal Love and Possession Elrohir frequently speaks of your eternity together, his voice filled with both love and an unyielding determination. He believes your wings are a part of your soul, and by cherishing them, he's cherishing you.

"You are my starlight," he might say, tracing the edges of your wings with his fingers. "And I will guard this light until the end of time. You are mine, now and forever."

ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ ၄၃ ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ

⚔️𝓔𝓵𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Yandere/Dark Elf Elladan x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

⭒ Obsessive Love and Possessive Tendencies as Dark Elladan’s love for you is consuming and overwhelming, transforming him into a possessive guardian of your existence. He views you as a radiant, ethereal being whose light belongs solely to him. His obsession manifests in the way he watches over you, memorizing every detail about your life. From the tone of your voice to the way your wings shimmer in the moonlight, no aspect of you escapes his intense focus.

⭒ Elladan is convinced that the world is too dangerous for someone as delicate and otherworldly as you. He would use his charm and cunning to gradually isolate you, convincing you it’s for your safety. Whether it’s Orcs, Men, or even other Elves, he sees everyone as a potential threat to your purity. Rivendell becomes your gilded cage, a sanctuary where no one but Elladan and his chosen few can approach you.

⭒ Elladan’s playful, carefree nature from his lighter self twists into a more manipulative version. He decides what you eat, where you go, and who you speak to, all under the guise of ensuring your comfort and security. If you question his decisions, he brushes off your concerns with soothing words or sharp remarks about the dangers of the outside world.

⭒ Dark Playfulness with a Dangerous Edge While Elladan retains his mischievous streak, it becomes laced with a darker intent. He might tease you about how fragile you are or how easily someone else might try to steal you away, but there’s an underlying menace to his words. He enjoys watching you squirm under his possessive gaze, yet his affection never wanes—it only deepens, becoming almost suffocating.

⭒ Elladan’s affection is no longer the lighthearted smothering of his usual self. Now, every kiss, every embrace, feels like a declaration of ownership. He pulls you close, his grip firm, as though afraid you might vanish if he lets go. His kisses are deep and lingering, filled with a passion that borders on desperation. He whispers words like “Mine” and “You belong to me” against your skin, reaffirming his claim on you.

⭒ Jealousy and Ruthless Elimination of Rivals as Elladan is not one to tolerate any form of competition. If someone else dares to show interest in you or even gazes at you for too long, they become a target of his wrath. While his actions are subtle, they are devastating—an Orc ambush on the road, a sudden reassignment far from Rivendell. To Elladan, it’s not cruelty; it’s justice for anyone who dares to challenge his bond with you.

⭒ Calm but Dangerous When Upset If you defy him or try to escape his control, Elladan’s usual calm demeanor turns chilling. His voice drops to a quiet, menacing tone, his eyes dark with an intensity that makes it clear there’s no point in resisting him. “You think you can leave me?” he might say, his fingers brushing your cheek with deceptive gentleness. “You belong here. With me. Always.”

⭒ Elladan’s penchant for banter becomes darker and more pointed. He enjoys teasing you in a way that reminds you of how deeply tied to him you are. Comments like “Where would you go without me? The wilds would swallow you whole” or “Don’t you know I’m the only one who can truly keep you safe?” slip from his lips with a sly smile.

⭒ Elladan’s protectiveness borders on paranoia. He’s haunted by the memory of his mother, Celebrian, being taken and tormented. This trauma fuels his need to keep you close at all times, never letting you venture far without his supervision. Even a short walk alone becomes a battle of wills, with Elladan insisting it’s far too dangerous.

⭒ Tender Moments Turn Intense Though his love is dark and obsessive, Elladan is still capable of tender moments. When you are hurt or upset, he tends to you with a gentle touch, his concern genuine. However, his tenderness often takes a possessive turn as he uses your vulnerability to draw you closer to him. “See?” he murmurs as he bandages a wound. “You need me. I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

⭒ Punishment as a Form of Devotion If you ever push too far—attempt to flee, reject his affection, or openly defy him—Elladan’s patience snaps. His punishments are never physical but emotional, isolating you further or withholding his usual warmth to make you regret your actions. He believes this is for your own good, a way to teach you that life without him is unbearable.

⭒ A Deep Fear of Losing You Beneath Elladan’s dark obsession lies a deep-rooted fear of losing you. The idea of you being taken from him, as his mother was, drives his every action. Even in his darkest moments, his love for you remains the foundation of his behavior—twisted, suffocating, and unyielding. “I would burn the world to keep you safe,” he tells you with a fervent gleam in his eyes. And you believe him.

⭒ Elladan’s need to be close to you can feel overwhelming. He insists on sleeping curled around you, his arms and legs tangled with yours while his hands rest protectively on your wings. Even when awake, he stays close enough that his presence feels inescapable, his touch constant and grounding, as if to remind you that you can’t leave him.

⭒ In his darkest moments, Elladan’s love takes on an almost sinister edge. As he strokes your wings, his voice drops to a quiet, unyielding tone: “I would destroy this world to keep you safe, my love. No one else will have you, not while I live. If you ever leave me…” His words trail off, but the weight of his promise lingers, heavy and chilling.

⭒ Elladan is utterly captivated by your wings, seeing them as the most beautiful and delicate part of you. They symbolize your ethereal nature and remind him of how different—and precious—you are compared to anyone else. He often reaches out to touch them, his fingers brushing gently against their fragile, shimmering surface, murmuring about how they’re a part of you no one else should dare to admire. He’ll make a habit of preening your wings himself, treating the act as an intimate ritual that only he is allowed to perform.

⭒ Elladan’s physical affection is overwhelming and constant, designed to remind you that you are his. He loves to pull you into his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and burying his face in the crook of your neck. His touch is firm yet reverent, as though he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go. When he kisses you, it’s slow and consuming, as if he’s trying to pour all his love—and his claim—into every movement.

⭒ Your wings are delicate, and Elladan uses that as an excuse to carry you everywhere he deems too dangerous for you to tread on your own. He lifts you effortlessly into his arms, holding you close as if shielding you from the world. “You don’t need to walk when I’m here,” he says softly, brushing his lips against your temple. He particularly enjoys moments where you rest your head against his chest, your wings fluttering faintly as you relax in his embrace.

⭒ Elladan makes tending to your wings his sacred duty. He carefully cleans and smooths them, ensuring they remain unblemished and perfect. These moments are deeply intimate, with Elladan whispering soft words of adoration as he works. “You are a vision of light,” he murmurs, his hands gentle yet possessive. If anyone else even suggests touching your wings, Elladan’s playful nature vanishes, replaced by a cold, territorial glare.

⭒ Elladan’s touch is ever-present, as if he’s afraid you might slip away if he’s not holding onto you. Whether it’s a hand resting possessively on your waist, his fingers threading through your hair, or his arms encircling you from behind, Elladan ensures you’re always within his reach. He especially loves trailing his fingers along the edges of your wings, marveling at their beauty and fragility.

⭒ Elladan’s kisses are an extension of his obsession, a way for him to claim you over and over again. He often cups your face in his hands, pulling you into deep, lingering kisses that leave you breathless. When he’s feeling particularly possessive, he’ll press kisses along your neck, shoulders, and the base of your wings, whispering promises of devotion between each one.

⭒ Elladan is fiercely protective of your wings, treating any threat to them as a personal offense. If you’re in danger, he places himself between you and the threat, his sword drawn and his expression deadly. Afterward, he checks your wings meticulously, his hands trembling slightly as he ensures they’re unharmed. If they’re injured, even slightly, his rage is uncontrollable—he’ll hunt down whoever or whatever caused.

⭒ Elladan often uses his strength to keep you close, holding you in place when you try to pull away. If you’re upset or resisting his affection, he’ll wrap his arms around you tightly, murmuring soothing words in your ear. “Shhh, my star,” he whispers. “Don’t fight me. I only want to keep you safe.” His hold is firm but never painful, though the possessiveness behind it is undeniable.

⭒ When you’re frightened or upset, Elladan becomes uncharacteristically gentle, his dark obsession momentarily overshadowed by genuine care. He’ll guide you into his arms, wrapping you in his cloak to shield your wings from any chill. His hands stroke your back and wings with a tenderness that almost feels out of place, his voice soft as he whispers reassurances. “You have nothing to fear,” he says. “Not when I’m here to protect you.”

⭒ Elladan loves to leave subtle marks of his affection on you—not bruises or anything that would harm you, but small, lingering touches that remind you of him. He might braid small flowers into your hair and wings, saying they symbolize how he sees you: beautiful, delicate, and entirely his. He also loves to kiss the base of your wings, leaving the faintest sensation of his presence there.

⭒ When you’re resting, Elladan insists on holding you close, his body curled protectively around yours. Your wings are carefully tucked into his embrace, and he makes sure they’re free of any pressure or discomfort. He’ll murmur soft words of love and devotion as you drift off to sleep, his hand trailing along your back and wings in soothing strokes.

⭒ To Elladan, your wings are sacred, and he treats them as such. He often kneels behind you, tracing their delicate patterns with a mix of awe and possessiveness. “You are beyond anything I could have imagined,” he whispers, his voice tinged with both reverence and obsession. His worshipful treatment of your wings becomes another way for him to express his undying devotion.

⭒ Even in the midst of battle or danger, Elladan finds ways to express his love. If you’re injured, he becomes a whirlwind of deadly precision, cutting down anyone or anything that threatens you before turning his full attention to your wounds. He carefully tends to your wings, his hands steady despite the fury still burning in his eyes. “I’ll never let anything harm you again,” he vows, his voice low and fierce.

ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ ၄၃ ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ

📚𝓔𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻

Yandere/Dark Elf erestor x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

✎ Erestor’s sharp mind, typically dedicated to strategy and problem-solving, becomes consumed by you. As a fairy, your ethereal nature fascinates him beyond reason. He memorizes your every movement, expression, and habit, cataloging them with the same meticulousness he applies to organizing Rivendell’s library. You become the centerpiece of his thoughts, an intricate puzzle he is determined to solve and possess entirely.

✎ Erestor views Rivendell—and the world beyond—as rife with threats to your delicate beauty and unique spirit. He takes it upon himself to “shield” you, using his influence and intelligence to ensure no one has the chance to get too close. He might subtly undermine relationships or tasks that demand your attention away from him, presenting his actions as logical solutions for your safety and well-being.

✎ Intellectual Manipulation With his dry wit and logical demeanor, Erestor has a way of twisting conversations to suit his ends. If you express a desire for freedom or independence, he’ll counter with rational arguments, using your own words and feelings against you. His tone remains calm and measured, but there’s an underlying intensity to his logic that leaves you questioning your own desires.

✎ Erestor doesn’t overtly forbid you from seeing others but instead orchestrates situations that make solitude—and his company—the more appealing option. He may invite you to the library for long discussions or leave thoughtful notes that demonstrate how deeply he understands you, creating a sense that no one else could possibly connect with you as he does.

✎ Erestor takes control of your surroundings with an almost imperceptible finesse. Your favorite books suddenly appear on your bedside table, your preferred flowers are always in bloom near your window, and your schedules mysteriously align with his. These gestures, though thoughtful, are calculated moves to keep you within his grasp.

✎ Erestor’s reserved nature makes his affection all the more intense when it manifests. His love comes in subtle, possessive gestures: a hand lingering on your shoulder, his gaze locking onto yours a moment too long, or a quiet murmur of your name laced with reverence. Each interaction feels like a promise that you are his and no one else’s.

✎ Dark Humor and Sarcasm When it comes to others who might admire you, Erestor’s dry sense of humor takes on a cutting edge. He might comment on their shortcomings in a way that seems lighthearted but carries a clear warning: they are beneath his notice and yours. His sarcasm becomes a weapon to belittle potential rivals without overt hostility.

✎ Relentless Devotion In private, Erestor’s love borders on suffocating. He insists on knowing your thoughts and feelings, claiming it’s to better understand you. He’ll whisper promises of eternal devotion, his voice a mix of tenderness and quiet intensity: “You are mine, in mind and spirit. No force in Arda could take you from me.”

✎ Anger as Ice, Not Fire When angered or jealous, Erestor doesn’t lash out. Instead, his rage is cold and calculated. He distances himself emotionally, withholding his usual warmth while quietly orchestrating events to punish those who crossed him—or you. His icy demeanor during these times is more unsettling than any outburst.

✎ Erestor expresses his affection through carefully chosen gifts that serve as reminders of his claim over you. A rare, beautifully bound book inscribed with a personal note; a necklace with a pendant shaped like a fairy’s wing; or even a secret alcove in the library filled with items he knows you’ll love. Each gift comes with a sense of unspoken ownership.

✎ Jealousy and Control Even the smallest perceived threat to his connection with you triggers his jealousy. If another Elf or being shows interest, Erestor intervenes with quiet but ruthless efficiency. He may ruin their reputation, reassign them elsewhere in Rivendell, or subtly manipulate circumstances to ensure they stay far away.

✎ Erestor is not one for spontaneous displays of love; every touch, kiss, or embrace is deliberate and meaningful. When he pulls you close, it’s with a firmness that leaves no doubt of his control. He may press you against a library wall, his calm exterior giving way to an undercurrent of hunger as he murmurs, “You are my greatest obsession.”

✎ Punishment through Silence If you defy or upset him, Erestor’s response is cold withdrawal. He won’t argue or raise his voice but will retreat into an icy silence that leaves you desperate for his attention. When he finally relents, it’s with a calculated show of forgiveness that reinforces his dominance: “I can’t stay angry with you, even when you test my patience.”

✎ A Prison Disguised as Paradise as Erestor creates an environment so tailored to your desires that it feels like a dream, but it’s also a cage. He ensures you’re surrounded by comfort and beauty, but every aspect of your life is subtly controlled by him. You may not notice the bars until it’s too late to escape.

✎ Unwavering Devotion to “Forever” as Erestor’s obsession transcends mortal limits. To him, your connection is eternal, and he will do whatever it takes to ensure you remain by his side. His whispers of love often carry a chilling finality: “We were meant to endure together, through all the ages of the world. There is no life for you without me.”

✎ Erestor is utterly captivated by your wings, seeing them as the most exquisite part of your being. He often finds excuses to examine them under the guise of “ensuring their safety.” His fingers, cool and deliberate, trace the veins of your wings with reverence, murmuring about their perfection. He is careful, almost tender, but the intensity in his gaze reveals the darker undercurrent of his obsession.

✎ Erestor insists on personally overseeing the care of your wings, providing rare balms and oils to maintain their ethereal glow. However, this “care” often feels suffocating, as he restricts your movements to ensure no harm befalls them. He subtly discourages you from flying, citing dangers that only he, in his wisdom, can foresee. Your wings become both a source of his adoration and a justification for his control.

✎ Erestor’s touches are firm and calculated, designed to leave no doubt that you belong to him. He often places a hand on your shoulder or waist in public, a silent declaration to others that you are under his protection. In private, his affection is more intense—his hands resting on your wings, holding you close as if anchoring you to him.

✎ Affection with a Hint of Dominance When Erestor kisses you, it’s never impulsive. Each kiss is a deliberate act, slow and consuming, as if he’s memorizing the taste of your lips. He often holds the base of your wings gently while he kisses you, a gesture that is both protective and possessive, reminding you of his unwavering control.

✎ Erestor’s acts of service are deeply personal and intimate. He meticulously prepares special resting cushions designed to accommodate your wings, ensuring they are never strained or damaged. He even crafts a private garden filled with soft, flowering vines that mimic the feeling of flight, but only he is allowed to accompany you there.

✎ Erestor often finds ways to draw attention to your wings, praising their beauty in his quiet, intense manner. He might compose poetry comparing their shimmer to the starlight, whispering it to you in the library. However, his admiration is always tinged with a darker possessiveness: “No one else could ever truly appreciate their splendor as I do.”

✎ Under the guise of concern, Erestor controls nearly every aspect of your care. He insists on inspecting your wings after any outing, running his hands over them to “check for damage” while subtly reinforcing your reliance on him. If you resist his care, his calm demeanor falters, replaced by a cold, commanding tone: “You do not understand the dangers, but I do. Trust me.”

✎ Erestor often wraps you in his arms, holding you against him in a way that presses your wings to his chest. These embraces are both comforting and confining, a reminder of his dominance. He murmurs soft, possessive words against your hair: “You are my light in this world. No one else will ever touch you as I do.”

✎ Delicate Worship of Her Wings At night, Erestor’s affection for your wings becomes almost ritualistic. He gently cleans and massages them with rare oils he procures from far-off lands, his touch lingering as he whispers about their beauty. His tone is reverent, but the intensity of his gaze betrays his darker longing to ensure that no one else could ever admire them as he does.

✎ Restrained Passion Though reserved by nature, Erestor’s affection for you occasionally breaks through in moments of unrestrained passion. He’ll press you against the shelves of the library or a quiet alcove, his hands cradling your wings as he kisses you deeply. His careful restraint keeps him from harming your wings, but the intensity of his touch leaves no doubt of his claim over you.

✎ Erestor uses your wings as a justification to limit your interactions with others. He insists that others wouldn’t understand the delicate care they require and that only he is capable of protecting them. If someone dares to compliment your wings, his mood shifts immediately, his sharp wit cutting them down with icy sarcasm.

✎ Erestor ensures you are surrounded by beauty and luxury, but everything is designed to keep you close. He creates a sanctuary where your wings are celebrated but also confined—a private library, a garden only you can access, all spaces where he is your sole companion.

✎ Possessive Words His declarations of love often focus on your wings as a symbol of your uniqueness. He whispers in your ear with a mix of reverence and obsession: “Your wings are a treasure, as are you. No one else could ever deserve their beauty—or yours.”

✎ Punishment through Neglect If you defy him, Erestor’s punishment is subtle but devastating. He withdraws his care, refusing to tend to your wings or offer his usual attentiveness. The absence of his affection leaves you feeling vulnerable and exposed, a reminder of how deeply you rely on him. When he finally relents, his touch is more possessive than ever, a silent warning against future defiance.

✎ Erestor’s obsession with your wings reflects his belief that you are a creature meant to be cherished and protected—for eternity. He views his role in your life as sacred, and his dark devotion ensures that he will never allow you to leave his side. His voice is calm but unyielding as he vows “You are mine, for now and always. No one else will ever know your worth as I do.”

ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ ၄၃ ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

Yandere/Dark Elf celeborn x Female Fairy Reader Headcanons

𖣂 Celeborn’s deep love for you, the fairy, would become all-consuming, and in this dark version of himself, it would warp his noble traits. His initial admiration for your ethereal beauty would turn into an obsessive desire to keep you in his domain forever. Celeborn would obsess over every little detail about you—your mannerisms, your voice, the way you flutter through the trees in Lothlórien. Everything about you would be perfect in his eyes, and he’d believe that no one else should ever have the privilege of witnessing your magic.

𖣂 Celeborn’s protective instincts would evolve into controlling behavior. He would keep you close, always by his side, ensuring that no one, not even the wind, could harm you. His realm, Lothlórien, would become your gilded cage. He’d forbid you from leaving the borders of his kingdom, believing that the outside world is too dangerous for someone as delicate as you. Celeborn would justify his actions as love, as an attempt to keep you safe, though you would feel more and more like a prisoner.

𖣂 Manipulative Gentlemen Despite his controlling nature, Celeborn would maintain his composed, dignified manner when interacting with you. He’d charm you with his wisdom, acting as the perfect gentleman, but there’s a darkness lurking behind those kind eyes. His words would be sweet but subtly manipulative. He would speak of your shared future, of forever, constantly reaffirming that you belong to him, even as he limits your freedom.

𖣂 Benevolent Tyranny He would lavish you with gifts, but these gifts would be laced with control. He might present you with beautiful, rare flowers from Lothlórien, but they’d always be in bloom under his careful watch, never allowing anyone else to touch or admire them. His love would feel smothering at times, as every action would be done in the name of keeping you safe and happy, but always at the cost of your independence.

𖣂 Jealousy in Silence as Celeborn’s jealousy would not be expressed in fits of rage, but in subtle, quiet acts of dominance. If another male elf so much as looked at you, Celeborn would appear almost immediately, his hand resting possessively on your shoulder or at your waist. His gaze would be sharp, calculating, silently warning others to keep their distance. Any attempt to talk to you would be interrupted, either by him stepping in or by a sudden, seemingly accidental change in the environment—a leaf dropping, the wind shifting—enough to send a silent, threatening message.

𖣂 Silent Watcher Celeborn would always be nearby, watching you, but never letting you know how closely. When you think you’re alone, he would be hidden, his eyes never leaving you. He’d memorize your every movement, and no action would go unnoticed. He believes that this is his duty, to watch over you, ensuring no harm comes your way. But it would feel less like protection and more like an invasion of your privacy.

𖣂 Possessive Affection When Celeborn expresses his love for you, it would be overwhelming and possessive. His compliments would border on obsessive, telling you that you are his, that you are the only thing that matters in his world. He’d often speak of his undying affection, saying things like, “You are my heart, my only love. I would protect you from all things, even from the world itself.” His actions would match his words—each touch would be tender, but it would feel like he’s marking you as his, ensuring that no one else can claim you.

𖣂 Romantic in the Darkest Way as Celeborn’s romantic gestures would be grand, but dark. He might take you on a walk under the stars in the Golden Wood, but the entire time, he’d be watching you, making sure you don’t speak to anyone else. When you share a quiet moment, he might lean in close and whisper in your ear, “My love for you transcends time. Nothing, not even death, will tear us apart.” His love, though beautifully worded, would start to feel like a trap, binding you to him eternally.

𖣂 Celeborn, knowing the pain of losing loved ones throughout his long life, would project his loneliness onto you. He would convince himself that you are the one being who can fill the void in his heart, the one soul that can stand by him forever. He’d be willing to do anything to keep you at his side—no matter the cost to you. The idea of losing you would break him, and he’d go to great lengths to ensure that never happens.

𖣂 Rejection of Independence While Celeborn would still respect your autonomy in front of others, in private, he would chip away at your independence. He’d express his distaste for the world outside Lothlórien, painting it as dangerous and corrupt, convincing you that the only place you truly belong is with him. Slowly, he’d aim to reshape your entire identity, until you see yourself as part of him—inseparable, bound to his side for all eternity.

𖣂 Manipulating Your Affection Whenever you express affection for him, Celeborn would bask in it, but it would also feed his obsession. He would grow addicted to your love, becoming more desperate each time you return his feelings. He’d want more, wanting to feel the depth of your affection constantly, always ensuring that you are emotionally dependent on him. If you ever tried to pull away or express doubt, he would turn colder, his usually calm demeanor shifting to something more intense, his voice carrying an edge that would make you realize just how deeply he feels about you—his possession, his love, his everything.

𖣂 Celeborn’s loyalty to Lothlórien would extend to you, but in a way that traps you within its borders. He’d say, “Lothlórien is a safe haven, my love. A sanctuary where nothing can harm you, where you will never know pain or loss again.” But in truth, it would be his prison for you both, a gilded cage that he would never allow you to leave. The beauty of Lothlórien, its shimmering woods and tranquil waters, would mask the suffocating isolation that Celeborn would subject you to, all in the name of love. In this darker version of Celeborn, his feelings for you would run so deep that they twist into something darker and more possessive, wrapped in the guise of protection and eternal love.

𖣂 Celeborn’s touch would be both tender and intense, as if claiming you without words. His hands would gently stroke your wings, caressing the delicate membranes with reverence, though always with a possessive undertone. He’d often trace the intricate patterns on your wings, as if memorizing them, his fingers lingering a little too long, his gaze too intense. His touch would be careful yet possessive, making it clear that your wings—so unique and beautiful—are something he holds dear, and no one else should ever admire them the way he does.

𖣂 Shielding Your Wings As a fairy, your wings would be one of your most prized and vulnerable features. Celeborn’s protective instincts would kick into overdrive whenever he’s around you. He would make sure that your wings are shielded from harm, constantly positioning himself between you and potential dangers. In the privacy of Lothlórien, he’d insist on carrying you if you grow tired, gently lifting you in his arms so that your wings are never strained. He’d often delicately fold them around you, wrapping them in his own presence as a way to shelter you from the world outside.

𖣂 Jealousy Over Your Wings If anyone shows even the slightest interest in your wings, Celeborn’s protective nature would flare up. He’d subtly, but fiercely, position himself between you and the observer, his hand resting possessively on your shoulder, the touch a silent warning. “Your wings are for me to admire, my love,” he might whisper softly in your ear, making it clear that he doesn’t like the idea of anyone else appreciating their beauty. His obsession with your wings would be all-consuming, as if they were his to care for, to treasure, and no one else’s.

𖣂 When Celeborn gives you affection, it’s always with a degree of control. He would press kisses along the base of your wings, his lips brushing gently against the delicate points where they meet your back. He’d admire the way your wings flutter when he does so, his eyes softening, but there’s always an air of ownership in the way he holds you, as if you’re his to cherish and protect, and no one else’s. While his kisses would be gentle, there’s an underlying tension—a constant reminder that you belong to him, even in these intimate moments.

𖣂 Celeborn, with his love for the natural beauty of the world, would take great care in grooming your wings. He might sit behind you, brushing through the feathers with a careful hand, making sure they stay pristine and perfect, taking a personal interest in your comfort. He’d insist that only he should touch your wings in such an intimate way, brushing away any debris or imperfections that could mar their beauty. The act of grooming would be both a sign of his affection and his control over you—after all, no one else could ever care for your wings the way he does.

𖣂 Soft, Protective Restraints When Celeborn feels a surge of possessiveness, especially in private, he might hold your wings still with an almost imperceptible, yet firm grip, as if reminding you that they are his responsibility, his to keep safe. His hands would run along your wings in a manner that feels both possessive and affectionate—keeping you in place, but always in the gentlest of ways. He would often murmur words of love and protection as he holds you, his voice warm yet intense, reinforcing his belief that your wings, like you, are something precious he must shield.

𖣂 Long, Enveloping Hugs as Celeborn’s affection would manifest in long, enveloping embraces where his arms wrap around you fully, pulling you close to him. His chest would press against your back, and his hands would hover over your wings, gently cupping them to protect them as you lean into him. The closeness would be comforting, but there’s an ever-present feeling of being held too tightly. His love for you, though tender, would never let you go, and every time you try to pull away, his grip would tighten, though not out of malice, but from a need to keep you within his reach.

𖣂 His Own Personal World Celeborn would try to create a world where it’s just you and him, isolated from the distractions of the outside world. He’d make sure to keep your wings safe by building you a secluded sanctuary deep within Lothlórien, a hidden grove where only he could find you. In this space, your wings would be free to stretch and flutter without fear, but always under his watchful eye. He would be there to greet you with soft touches, brushing his fingers against your wings as if marking them as his own. Here, you’d be surrounded by his love—and his control—where you’d feel the weight of both.

𖣂 Celeborn would regard your wings as the most precious part of you, seeing them as symbols of your beauty and grace. When he gives you gifts, they would often be things that reflect the ethereal quality of your wings—silk scarves, fine threads, or precious stones that he’d delicately place on your wings. The idea of you wearing these gifts would please him immensely, and when he sees you wearing something he’s given you, it would feel like an extension of his affection for you, even though it would reinforce the idea that you belong to him.

𖣂 Celeborn’s protection of your wings would be symbolic of his larger desire to control every aspect of your life. When you venture outside Lothlórien, he would go to great lengths to ensure that your wings are always shielded—whether it be with a veil of magic or simply by positioning himself next to you to prevent any accidental harm. His obsession would make him insist on carrying you when you need to fly, always making sure that you’re never out of his sight. He would claim that it’s for your own safety, but deep down, you would begin to feel that it’s just one more way he is tying you to him.

ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ ၄၃ ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ꕤ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ꕤ

[glorfindel-of-imladris]

Elrond: Like Maglor always says: if at first you do not succeed, then it's only attempted murder.

Glorfindel: Maglor? Maglor always said that?

Erestor, fake wiping a tear: Inspirational.

[nagithoes]

i love seeing art for tolkien elves because you never know for sure who you’re looking at until you check the tags

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

So what if the Valar foresaw that a balrog would be reawakened, and sent Glorfindel back as a precaution against this?

Then when Elrond is picking the company that it is Glorfindel’s life’s purpose to be in he gets upped by some silvan weirdo.

[furious-haste-of-malice]

AN: I promised to write a little something for @sortumavaara a while ago, so here it is! Based on and inspired by this artwork.

dark romance prompts

♡ prompt: taboo & overstimulation | Glorfindel x Erestor ♡ synopsis: Glorfindel wants - needs - Erestor and hatches a new plan to make it happen, even if it means breaking a few teeny tiny rules and taboos ♡ warnings: highly dub-con/non-con, aphrodisiacs, obsession, unhinged horny & delusional Glorfy ♡ short oneshot (~800 words)

The thought that he shouldn't do this had crossed Glorfindel's mind. 

But the voice of reason had, in time, been drowned out by his desire, no, need to bed Erestor again, a feeling that had taken over his very mind and every waking thought. 

It was perhaps, as Glorfindel had also considered, not entirely right to feel this way, yet such a notion again did little to dissuade him; in fact, he had always found it rather arousing to break rules and taboos. 

And his favourite lover would enjoy it, he was certain. 

Erestor's cheeks were flushed bright red and his breathing was heavy. An empty tea cup sat in front of him, nearly getting knocked over as he sluggishly attempted to prop himself up and rise from his chair. 

"Glorfindel... not this again..."

He was slurring his words and sounded almost petulant, causing Glorfindel to smile, endeared by the display. 

"Yes, beloved. I promised we would try again, didn't I?"

Instead of waiting for a response, he picked up the smaller ellon and carried him over to the bed to begin undoing his robes. Erestor mumbled a few words of weak protest, but Glorfindel opted to stroke the growing bulge between his legs to soothe him. 

"I know it's not easy," he said softly. "After you were so tense last time, I prepared this tea for you. It should make it easier for you to take me. And I'll be careful, I promise." 

All Erestor managed was a groan while his remaining clothes were removed, and Glorfindel quickly discarded his own as well. Despite not having consumed the stimulating beverage himself, his cock was already hard as well, standing between his legs with the pride and poise expected from an accomplished warrior like himself. 

Erestor gulped and tried to rise, but Glorfindel swiftly moved to sit behind him and gathered him in his arms. 

"Let me show you how good it can feel when you're relaxed and ready," he cooed, grasping his lover's thighs to spread his legs wide open. 

Two fingers made their way in-between before Erestor could attempt to close them and gently prodded his entrance. Glorfindel found that he was indeed wet, as was the intended effect of the concoction he had slipped into his tea, yet not quite leaking. The amount of lubrication might still be insufficient to fit his entire length inside that tight little hole, but he was certainly willing to try. 

Placing his hands on the underside of his thighs, he lifted the smaller ellon up to place him on his lap and align his cock with his entrance, and Erestor squirmed in his grasp. 

"No, please," he protested weakly. "Please, my lord. I-I can't. And I promise I won't tell anyone – ah-!" 

Glorfindel attempted to shush him with a kiss, but his lips brushed against his cheek instead as Erestor turned his head to the side. His breath came in heavy gasps upon being breached, taking the warrior's large cock inch by inch. 

"Ssshhhh. You're doing so much better already," Glorfindel praised, holding him in place when he felt resistance. "Look, you managed to take half of me this time!"

"Stop – ngh – please... ah..." Erestor tried once more, but his pleas were soon reduced to small moans and gasps as Glorfindel began to move inside him. 

"We'll up the dosage next time," he reassured him, whispering in his ear. "Then it'll feel even better and you'll be able to take all of me. Doesn't that sound good?" 

He received no reply, but that suited him just fine. With every thrust, his world shrank more and more until it was reduced to the wonderful feeling of hot, wet tightness around his cock, exactly like he had imagined it. Glorfindel barely noticed that Erestor came soon after, and it didn't deter him either; he was simply too sweet when he tried and failed to beg for reprieve and could do nothing except take his cock over and over and over again. 

He loves it, he reminded himself, and one day he'll admit it too. 

Letting out the occasional indulgent moan to inform his lover of his boundless enjoyment, Glorfindel continued to bounce him on his lap and fuck him open until he'd had his fill. 

"You always feel so wonderful, Erestor," he breathed when he released inside him, accentuating his words with a gentle, almost chaste kiss on his cheek. 

Erestor was silent, and his chest was heaving as he attempted to catch his breath. Glorfindel placed him on the bed and lay down as well, admiring him. 

"Do you even know how beautiful you are? How cute and precious and delicious?" he continued and leaned down to pepper his face with more kisses. "I can never resist you, beloved..." 

Thanks for reading!

[jolidei]

Of Turgon and Caranthir : After Reincarnation.

Turgon, Holding Caranthir's hands : Just we two.

Caranthir : Tu-

Finduilas : Oh that would be wonderful.

Turgon : Three?

Orodreth : Hi!

Turgon : Four?

Erestor : Atya, who is he?

Turgon : Five!?

Caranthir : Oh yes, Turukáno, these are my children.

Turgon : Oh how sweet.

[counsellorerestor]

Erestor of Imladris

[ravencounsellor]

modern verse erestor is creeping up on me again

[thescrapwitch]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Maglor | Makalaurë, Maglor | Makalaurë & Lindir, Erestor & Maglor | Makalaurë, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Erestor Characters: Maglor | Makalaurë, Elrond Peredhel, Lindir (Tolkien), Erestor (Tolkien), Glorfindel (Tolkien), Galadriel | Artanis, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Kidnap Dads, kidnap fam, Maglor Is A Cryptid, eldritch horror, Celebrimbor may be dead but he's still affecting the plot Series: Part 3 of Maglor is an Eldritch Horror Summary:

“Take care of my cousin,” Celebrimbor had asked him, and Erestor had spent centuries fulfilling that request. If Elrond wanted to see his foster father again, then Erestor would find a way to make that happen. And, if said foster father was an eldritch being who refused to show his face to his son, then Erestor would find a way to fix that as well.

[tar-thelien]

Chapter five; Looking For Light In The Darkness

Summary:

Elrond and Elros gets picked up by Maglor who´s on the bridge of falling into complete insanity, Maedhros is tired of everything but let Maglor do as he wants and Erestor watched from as safe of a distance as he can.

Chapter notes:

Erestor shows Elrond and Elros around off camera, Maglor is rude, Maedhors tries, implied drunk character, hinted eating disorder.

words: 1410

AO3

“I don´t think Maglor eats. Normal food I mean,” Elros mumbled to Elrond who was busy fumbling around in the dresser Maglor had fitted with clothes for them after their breakfasts.

He had walked out of the room with lots of other clothes falling from his arms, forcing him to go multiple times to get all, both what was left in the dresser and on the floor. His sobbing had turned to the ugly wheezes of a drowning dog when they had left the dining room and hadn´t stopped for what both twins knew.

Elros had said something about them probably not being the first kids he had kidnapped since they now had a good portion of children's clothes in their own size or a bit bigger when he had left, closing the door behind him.

“His hands are really skinny… like some of the monsters from Ada´s stories. Hands like spiders. Vampire…” he said not really knowing what it was just that they drank blood and were evil. Maglor was evil too.

“Elrond…” Elros tried to roll the new name on his tongue, “Elrond what do you want to do? Do you want to go explore?? Maglor didn´t say we couldn´t, and if we get caught, we can just say Maglor forgot us or something-”

“Yes, about that,” Erestors voice cut in as Elros twisted with as much haste he could and a frightened expression on his face, Elrond had gone still, hands on an orange tunic.

“Timo told me what happened and that Kano probably wouldn´t be able to show you around, as he wanted to… so you wouldn´t get lost that is, so I said that I could do it for him.”

Elros stared at him before turning his bright eyes narrow with a snarl, “how many children did Kano steal before us, and how many did Timo, kill!?”

Both nicknames were spitted with so much hate that Erestor himself barely believed it to be two elflings in front of him and rather two wolves. One quiet waiting to attack and another lashing in its cage.

“Come little Narmo, and I´ll show you and your brother around,” he smiled as he held both hands out.

“We will escape soon, and then we will find the high king and tell him where you are so he can kill you all.” Elros spat, his fear only betrayed in the way his body trembled and his feets shuffled as if wanting to step back.

“Then I must show you around before you do, so it will be easier for you to escape, no?”

“Here is the kitchen and the door over there leads out to the bigger courtyard, now if we go out I can show you the stables and kennels, and maybe even the aviaries!”

Elrond nodded as he looked up at the smiling elf, he didn´t know what an aviary was, but he did know what stables and kennels were and he wouldn´t mind petting a dog or saying hallo to Thuretal, as long as the horse didn´t try to trip him down as he had seen it do with some of the soldiers, or again, anyone stupid enough to come close enough for it to happen that wasn´t Maglor or Maedhros.

“Then we can take some apples and seeds with us? And maybe there are a few bones the cooks won't need,” Erestor said happily as Elros frowned up at him.

“Why do we need seeds!?”

“Well… to feed the birds, that live in the aviaries, or maybe some of the other ones too if you want?”

“You have birds?” Elros exclaimed loudly and Elrond began tugging at Erestors sleeve with wide excited eyes, “I always wanted a bird! What kinds of birds do you have?”

Erestor chuckled at the twins' excitement as he slides himself between the working elvers in the big kitchen to find the food for the various animals.

“Well, we have falcons for hunting, the old two lords, Maedhros and Maglors youngest brothers, breed them, then we also have magpies, for sending messages and such, and a few chickens but they walk freely, except for the night where they´re let into the main stables.”

“We also have some goats and sheeps. They´re walking on the fields outside the fortress usually, and at night they´re leed into another stable closer to the gates than the one with the horses and chickens, that one also has a small garden with geese!”

“Do you have cats too!” Elros said as he helped his brother drag the other elf, for one blissful moment forgetting his rightful fear.

“Yes, they tend to be close to the kitchen, larder, and barns, as that´s where the mouses tend to be.”

Reaching the stable Elrond hurriedly ran forward to reach Thuretal but was stopped by an unfamiliar hand grasping his shoulder as he froze up in fear.

“Don´t trip little lord, wouldn´t do well to soil your fine clothes with all the dirt here,” a rough voice mumbled cheerfully as the unfamiliar elf in front of him kneeled down to reach the peredhels eye level, yet Elrond did all to avoid it, being reminded of the danger he and his brother was in.

“I´m afraid we had a bad start to the morning,” Erestor explained to the elf in front of him while quitting Elros´ angry screams with a hand in front of his mouth.

“I see,” the elf said as he stood up nodding, “another time then, my prince,” he said in goodbye bowing to a now slightly displeased frowning Erestor.

Elrond sat quietly at the dining table staring at Maglor from the corner of his eyes, they had eaten lunch with Erestor after an awkward few minutes in the stables with Elrond and Elros glued to each other's sides.

This time Erestor was eating with them.

The sound of forks and knives on plates and a crackling fire, chewing, drinking, and Maedhros sometimes slipping hand leaving an unpleasant screech that made Elrond wince occupied the room, the only soundlessness was coming from Maglor who mindlessly pushed his mashed potatoes back and forth on his plate, occasional sipping on his wine.

Elros was right, Elrond decided after a moment of debate with himself, Maglor had long and strong looking hands, but each joint poked out painfully, especially when they grabbed around his glass goblet. And he did only seem to drink, and the, maybe, wine was very red.

Looking up slowly at the bard´s round face he saw that the usually crooked smile he tended to wear was now vanished leaving empty eyes staring longingly, the same kind of longingly Naneth would stare at the sea when Ada was gone before she was enthralled by the shinning stone, at the wine bottle beside Maedhros.

The stone that shone like Maglor and Maedhros and some of their soldiers shone.

Maedhros growled slightly and all eyes on the table turned to look at him surprised, two with fright another with curiosity. Maglor just kept examining the bottle.

“Is there nothing you want to say Kano,” Maedhors said as softly as his fierce voice could, “how you were bored or what songs you played in your room? Maybe you even wrote something? Or another thing like that,” a note of desperation was added to the last bit but Maglor just kept on starring.

“... something to… your children maybe? Or maybe you should ask them what they did today?” Maedhros said, his voice now bleeding with desperation as he got a pleading look in his eyes, even as he saw both said children get tends with fear and Elros staring him down as discreetly as possible, so as not to anger him.

“They´re not my children, Timo, just as you said,” Maglor´s usually flowing voice was slurred as if his tung were too heavy, “give me the bottle.”

“Is there nothing you want to say?” Maedhros replied ignoring the words just spoken.

“Give me the bottle.”

Maedhros looked at his pitiful brother before grunting, “if you and the children are done eating, maybe you should put them to bed, as you want to be their Atto and that´s what fathers do, after that, I won´t mind sharing a glass with you.”

Huffing Maglor turned his dulled gaze to the twins looking at their mostly empty plates, “do you need more,” he hissed and both children hurried to shake their heads.

“Kano-” Maedhros warned.

[thelandswemadeofpaper]

Its called Ensemble Dark Horse

All the times Erestor was mentioned in Tolkien's legendarium.

Yes, that is it. There is nothing more.

[sunnyshinesunshine]

Instead of Elrond looking like some vague Finwëan-Sindar combo

Elrond looks a little different to everyone that sees him

His face doesn’t change. He is still very much Elrond Peredhel, but his features will always remind whoever sees him of some form of a regret.

He supposes it is a combination of being a healer and the descendent of Maia but he tries not to dwell too hard on it.

(It is very uncomfortable to be the image of the deepest wounds of another’s heart)

Nonetheless, it is difficult to heal one’s own soul without facing the reasons for its damage.

Elros Tar-Minyatur was the only one to ever look at Elrond and see only Elrond.

If this was because his blood matched Elrond’s, or because Elrond was Elros’ deepest regret, Elrond doesn’t particularly want to know

Maedhros, utterly predictably, saw Fingon, and in doing so, found both comfort and misery.

Occasionally he would see in Elrond the ghosts of all his brothers, and he would again face the knowledge that he was not able to save them from their doom and the dark void.

Maglor sees Maedhros, and feels regret, not for the violence or the death, but for days in far off Valinor, under the light of the Trees. Days of running off with friends, to sing, to compose, to preform for adoring fans, to do anything but stay at home and help Maitimo take care of their small army of younger siblings.

(Maybe then the title of eldest brother would weigh less heavy on Mae’s shoulders. Maybe then the responsibility of care for them all would not have driven him so far, and to such a bitter end.)

If Glorfindel is to be asked, he’d tell you Elrond appears to him as the spitting image of Turgon

If you are Erestor, you know Glorfindel mostly sees Maeglin, Maeglin young and quiet, Maeglin older and scared, but sometimes also Aredhel, defiant and ready to disappear into the woods without a sound

Elwing once looked upon her son and saw naught but the visage of her little brothers

Galadriel sees Finrod, as does Celebrimbor, for very different reasons, but mostly because they share the same kind of kindness, and there is little that marks a person better than that

In quieter moments Galadriel will glimpse what her husband sees, Lúthien, as she was after Beren died, solemn, trapped, and entombed in misery.

During Bilbo’s final years, he can’t quite remember what he first thought upon looking on Elrond’s face (he’s sure it’s written down somewhere) but in those last days, he sometimes sees Frodo, wary and so very afraid. But mostly Elrond resembles Thorin and that is something Bilbo shall never set to paper

(Someday, in a time far beyond the counting of years, Fëanor will find himself staring at the face of his grandchild and seeing the eyes of Míriel Þerindë above the features Indis and will have a very small, very quiet meltdown.

[earthlybeam]

If your requests are open, I was wondering how Elrond, Thranduil, and Cirdan would react to the reader saving their life. Like, the reader takes an arrow for them or something. No pressure!

I truly enjoy writing this below, and I’d be happy to create more if you’d like! Feel free to ask or leave a comment below what character, and I’ll do my best to help.

Character you can pick from that I write for: lindir, haldir, feren, meludir, Galion, elros, elladan, elrohir, Legolas, celeborn, erestor, glrofindel, Gil-galad, Celebrimbor (he a new one I have add) ✨🫶❤️

how would the elves react to this?

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Thranduil, Elrond, Círdan Versions are below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

𐂂 Thranduil Caught in a Spider’s Trap and Falling into a Pit While Thranduil and the reader/you are engaged in battle against a group of hostile giant spider in the depths of Mirkwood and reader/you save him

The darkness of Mirkwood had always been an ever-present threat, but tonight it felt even more suffocating. The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the faint, almost nauseating tang of decay. The battle raged around Thranduil and you—swarming spiders, venomous and vile, scuttled across the floor of the forest like dark shadows, their eyes glinting in the moonlight. The vicious creatures had long plagued the ancient woods, their hunger insatiable, their venom deadly. Thranduil’s blade flashed in the dim light as he fought off one of the monstrous arachnids, his movements graceful and deliberate, as always. His skill with a sword was unmatched, every strike a precise decision. Yet, for all his agility and battle-hardened experience, he was not immune to the dangers of the forest. Beneath his feet, the ground suddenly shifted.

The earth trembled, the roots of the ancient trees groaning under the weight of the battle and the forces of nature. Thranduil’s eyes narrowed in alarm as the ground crumbled beneath him. He had little time to react before his booted feet were swallowed by the shifting soil, and he found himself falling. A sharp gasp escaped his lips as he plunged downward, the pit opening beneath him like a maw, pulling him further into its depths. The trees above him seemed distant as he plummeted, the foliage that once protected the woodland king now closing in, smothering the light and muffling the sounds of battle above. But it wasn’t just the pit that threatened him. Thranduil’s sharp elven senses picked up the faintest rustling, the quiet skittering sound of something moving in the shadows. He barely had time to react as he twisted mid-fall, catching sight of the massive spider—a hulking creature with glistening, venomous fangs and limbs long enough to span a dozen men. It leapt from a nearby tree with frightening speed, its webbing trailing behind it like a death sentence.

Before he could draw his blade or think of a way out, the spider’s web shot forward, its strands wrapping around his body, gluing him halfway down in the pit. His movements were slowed, his legs pinned, and the sticky threads clung to him like chains. His once-immaculate silver armor was now tangled in the webbing, and Thranduil, struggling against the sticky strands, felt the cold grasp of helplessness for a brief moment. The spiders began to circle, their multi-eyed gaze trained on their prey. Thranduil’s breathing quickened as his thoughts turned to escape. His mind raced with calculations, his thoughts sharp as ever despite the danger. He knew he needed to act swiftly if he were to survive this—he needed to cut through the webbing, but his sword was too far out of reach. The pit was deep, the air thick with the smell of the forest and the acrid scent of spider venom. It was then, as the spiders closed in, that a sudden, unexpected force swept through the pit—you. In a flash, you appeared at the edge of the pit, your form illuminated by the faint glow of the moon above. You leapt into the pit without hesitation, your feet landing soundlessly in the shifting soil as you avoided the webs and debris that littered the area. There was no fear in your movements, no hesitation. You had seen the danger, and in a heartbeat, you had made your decision. Thranduil’s sharp gaze followed your every movement, his mind struggling to reconcile the vulnerability he felt with the awe he couldn’t help but feel for your bravery.

Without wasting a moment, you sprinted toward him, your hands steady as you carefully sliced through the thick webbing with a blade or a sharp object of your own. The spiders hissed and clicked their mandibles, closing in around you both, their large bodies casting ominous shadows across the pit. The tension was palpable—the spiders were relentless, sensing the weakness of their prey, and yet, despite their terrifying size, you didn’t flinch. With a swift motion, you freed Thranduil from the sticky grasp of the webs. His body collapsed forward, his limbs unsteady, but you were there to catch him. The webbing still clung to parts of him, but now it was only a minor hindrance. The king’s eyes met yours as he stood, his chest heaving with effort, his breath shallow, but alive. There was a flicker of disbelief in his gaze as he processed what had just happened. His regal poise had faltered in the face of danger, but the moment he saw you fight off the approaching spiders, his admiration for you grew tenfold. You had protected him, not with hesitation or doubt, but with decisiveness, your every action driven by an unwavering will to keep him safe.

Thranduil moved, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword, the glint of his blade reflecting in the dim light. His stance was shaky, but his resolve was firm. The spiders were not to be underestimated, but he could see the way you handled yourself. You were a force of nature in your own right. As the spiders charged, you stood side by side with him, your weapons raised in defense. Thranduil’s mind quickly shifted back to the task at hand. The pit, the danger—it was all secondary now. Your loyalty to him, your willingness to fight by his side, it made all the difference. His voice, hoarse but steady, broke the tension. “You have my gratitude,” he said, his voice low yet filled with an undeniable warmth. There was no formality in his words, no barriers to his sincerity. It was rare for Thranduil to show such vulnerability, but in that moment, he was truly grateful. He moved with you, fighting back the arachnids with precision and strength. The battle was fierce, but together, you were unstoppable. And as the last of the spiders was slain and the pit began to quiet, the king’s gaze softened toward you once more. He was still breathing heavily, his armor now torn and stained, but his respect for you—his appreciation—was clear in the quiet gaze he held upon you.

“Thank you,” he said again, softer this time, his voice laced with gratitude. “I would not have survived this without you.” And in the depths of Mirkwood, surrounded by the echoing silence of the forest, it was clear that something had shifted. Thranduil had always been a king of stone, his heart a fortress built from centuries of loss and sorrow. But with you by his side, something in him softened, and for the first time in many years, he allowed himself to feel a flicker of connection—something real and enduring, something that went beyond the duty of a king and the loyalty of his subjects. It was something he had not expected. But in the pit, with you fighting by his side, he knew—you were his ally, his protector, and perhaps, in time, something more.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

✶ Avalanche/Rockslide While traveling in the mountains near Rivendell, Elrond is caught in a sudden rockslide. The reader shoves him out of the way or shields him with their body, taking the impact themselves.

The mountain path was narrow, winding precariously along the steep slopes that framed Rivendell in its protective embrace. The air was crisp and sharp with the scent of pine and stone, the faintest hint of snow carried on the wind from the higher peaks. Elrond moved ahead with an ease that belied the dangers of the terrain, his every step deliberate and precise. His deep blue-gray cloak swayed gently as he walked, the fine embroidery of Rivendell’s craftsmanship catching the occasional glint of sunlight filtering through the clouds. This trail was familiar to him—one he had traveled many times in search of solitude or to meet travelers approaching from the wilds. He had always admired the way the mountains framed the valley, the ridges standing like silent sentinels over his home. But today, there was a strange tension in the air, an unspoken unease that made him glance up toward the looming cliffs above. The skies had darkened slightly, the rumble of distant thunder echoing faintly through the peaks.

“Elrond,” you called from behind, your voice carrying over the whisper of the wind. “Do you think we should move faster? This weather… it feels strange.” He paused, turning to look at you. His dark hair framed his face, and for a moment, the concern in his sharp gaze was evident. He studied the rocks above and then the path ahead, his instincts honed by centuries of experience. “The mountains are prone to shifts,” he said, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of caution. “We will tread carefully, but there is no need to rush. Fear clouds the mind and invites missteps.” His words were meant to reassure, and as always, his composure gave you a sense of security. But just as you were about to reply, a low, ominous rumble rolled through the mountains. It started softly, a vibration you felt in the soles of your boots, before growing into a deep, resounding groan that seemed to echo all around you. The very earth beneath you shuddered.

“Elrond—” you started, your voice edged with alarm, but he had already turned sharply, his eyes darting upward. The cliffs above you began to shift, a cascade of loose stones tumbling down the slope. Then came the unmistakable sound of cracking rock, loud and jarring. A section of the mountainside gave way, and in an instant, boulders and debris began to hurtle downward, crashing against the slopes with terrifying speed. The ground quaked beneath your feet as the rockslide roared to life. “Elrond, move!” you shouted, your body already reacting before you had time to think. Elrond’s eyes snapped to you, wide with alarm—but he hesitated, looking back toward the path, clearly calculating the best way to evade the deadly rush of stone. That moment of hesitation was enough to make your decision for you. Without a second thought, you lunged toward him, shoving him hard toward the edge of the path, where the rocks seemed less likely to strike.

The force of your push sent him stumbling out of harm’s way, but it left you exposed. The world seemed to blur as the avalanche of rock and debris thundered down. You felt the sharp, jarring impact of stone against your back and shoulders, the force of it knocking the air from your lungs. Pain exploded through you as a heavy boulder clipped your side, sending you sprawling to the ground. Dust and grit filled the air, making it hard to breathe, hard to see. Through the chaos, you vaguely registered Elrond’s voice, sharp and commanding, cutting through the din. “No!” It wasn’t the composed tone you were used to—it was raw, laced with a fear you had never heard from him before.You tried to push yourself up, but the weight of the rocks pressing against you made it nearly impossible. Your limbs felt heavy, your vision swimming as the world began to quiet, the deafening roar of the rockslide fading into an eerie stillness. The pain was overwhelming, but even through the haze, you could feel someone pulling at the stones, hands firm yet careful as they worked to free you.

“Elrond…” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I am here,” he said, his tone steady but trembling at the edges. “Do not move.” His hands, so skilled and steady, worked with a precision born of centuries of healing as he cleared the debris from your body. The weight was gradually lifted, but the damage had already been done. You could see the flicker of anguish in his eyes as he assessed your injuries, his composure cracking ever so slightly. “You should have let me take the fall,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion as he crouched beside you. His hands moved over you with practiced care, pressing gently against your ribs, checking for fractures. “This is my fault—I should have seen the signs. I should have—” His voice broke, but he forced himself to focus, his hands glowing faintly with Elvish healing light as he worked to stabilize you. “You’re… too important to lose,” you whispered, your voice weak but firm despite the pain. “I couldn’t let that happen.”

Elrond’s movements stilled for a moment, his gaze meeting yours. The look in his eyes was devastating—an ocean of guilt, gratitude, and something deeper, something he would never allow himself to say aloud. “And what of you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “You would trade your life for mine so easily?” You managed a faint, lopsided smile. “Not easily. But it was worth it.” His jaw tightened, and he returned to his work, his hands moving with renewed urgency. “You will not leave me,” he said, the words quiet but filled with an unshakable resolve. “Not like this. I will not allow it.”

You felt the warmth of his healing light spreading through you, dulling the sharp edges of the pain. Still, you could see the strain on his face, the way his usually steady hands trembled slightly as he poured his energy into saving you. It wasn’t just the physical wounds he was trying to heal—there was something breaking inside him, something he couldn’t hide. As the pain began to subside, you reached up weakly, your fingers brushing against his hand. “Elrond,” you murmured. “It’s not your fault.” He looked at you, his expression fierce and unguarded. “Perhaps not,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “But it is my responsibility to protect you—and I failed.”

“You didn’t fail,” you replied, your voice barely audible. “You saved me.” He shook his head, his composure faltering further as he cupped your hand in his own. “And you saved me. At too great a cost.” The silence between you was filled with the distant sound of falling stones and the soft rush of wind through the mountains. As Elrond worked tirelessly to tend to your wounds, his touch gentle and his brow furrowed in concentration, you realized that the walls he had so carefully built around himself had cracked—if only for a moment. And in that moment, the weight of his heart was laid bare.

🌊 𝓬í𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷

𓇼 Tides of Sacrifice While sailing across a storm-ravaged sea, Círdan, the ancient mariner, is thrown overboard by a violent wave. The reader/you rushes to save him, braving the treacherous waters and risking their own life to pull him back from the brink of death.

The wind roared like a living beast, tearing at the sails and lashing the ship with relentless fury. The sea, dark and churning, rose in great swells that battered the hull as if determined to drag the vessel into its depths. Amid the chaos, Círdan moved across the deck with the sure-footed grace of one who had spent long ages upon the seas, his grey hair whipping wildly in the storm’s fury. Yet even the oldest mariner can be caught off guard when the sea is angry. A sudden, violent lurch of the ship sent crates tumbling, ropes snapping like serpents. Círdan reached for the rail to steady himself, but the slick wood betrayed him. His footing gave way beneath him. For the first time in countless years, his balance failed. Time seemed to slow as his ancient form fell, his outstretched hand just grazing the railing before he vanished overboard into the merciless sea.

The sound of the splash was swallowed almost instantly by the howling storm, yet it echoed in your ears, sharp as a blade. For a moment, panic seized the deck. The crew shouted his name, their voices carried away by the wind, but no sign of him rose from the waves. The great Círdan—ancient, wise, and revered—had been claimed by the raging sea. Without thought, without hesitation, you flung yourself over the side. The shock of the icy water hit you like a thousand knives, stealing your breath and smothering the sounds of the storm. The sea was alive, pulling and twisting around you, trying to drag you into its embrace. Salt stung your eyes as you dove deeper, the world a murky whirl of gray and black, but you forced yourself to focus. Somewhere below, Círdan was sinking into the deep.

At last, through the gloom, you caught a glimpse of him. His silver hair floated around his face like a halo, his limbs weighed down by the heavy robes he wore. He was still conscious, though weakened, his movements sluggish as the current tugged at him. Gritting your teeth, you kicked hard, fighting the pull of the waves until your fingers closed around his arm. He turned his head toward you, his eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and something deeper—a silent plea not for himself, but for you. The sea is no place for mortals, and he knew this better than anyone. Yet you did not let go. Bracing yourself against the cold and your screaming lungs, you pulled him upward, stroke by stroke, until at last the surface shattered around you both, and you gasped for air.

The storm raged on, but the ship was there, its lights faint beacons through the downpour. Voices called out as ropes were lowered, hands reaching to haul you back aboard. Círdan, though shivering and pale, was heavier than you imagined, but you held on, your arms trembling as the crew helped drag him to safety. Once both of you were sprawled on the deck, the world seemed to steady itself. The sea still roared, the wind still screamed, but the focus of all eyes was on Círdan and you. You coughed, water spilling from your lungs as you lay gasping, too tired to move. Beside you, Círdan slowly sat up, his movements deliberate, as though the weight of what had just occurred pressed upon him more than the storm or the cold ever could.

His ancient face, lined by centuries of wisdom and sorrow, turned toward you. His grey eyes, deep as the sea itself, met yours, holding you there as if trying to fathom the heart that had risked itself for him. “Why?” he asked softly, his voice carrying through the wind, clear as a bell despite its gentleness. The question was not a rebuke but a quiet wonder, spoken by one who rarely found himself surprised. “Why would you risk your life… for one such as I?”

He reached out, his hand trembling slightly, though not from the cold. His grip found yours, steadying both of you, anchoring the moment between you. Around you, the crew murmured, relieved and awed, but Círdan’s focus never wavered. For a long moment, he simply gazed at you, his expression one of quiet reverence—an emotion so rarely seen from one as composed as he. “Long have I walked this world. Long have I guided others across treacherous waters. But never… never did I imagine one would turn back for me.” His voice caught, and his brow furrowed as though the weight of your action bore down upon him.

You could see it then—the great depths of Círdan’s heart. He had seen empires rise and fall, kin sail West never to return, and endless battles won and lost. Yet now, in this fleeting moment, he looked at you with something like awe, as though he had glimpsed something precious, a light no shadow could touch. “You gave much,” he murmured, his voice steadying as he gathered himself. “More than I deserved, I think, but still you gave it. And for that, I am in your debt.” Slowly, painfully, he rose to his feet, and though his body trembled from the cold, his bearing held the dignity of the lord he was. He extended a hand to you, pulling you up beside him.

“Acts of courage such as yours shine brighter than the Silmarils,” he said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I have lived through many storms, and I have seen the strength of many hearts. But yours, today, burns brightest of all.” His hand, steady and warm despite the chill, rested briefly on your shoulder. “Know this,” he continued, his voice carrying the weight of an oath. “Whatever path lies before you, you shall not walk it alone. Should you ever call upon me, I will come. For you have given me a gift beyond measure—a life returned, when I had thought all debts long paid.”

Círdan turned then, his face lifted to the dark sky, the rain pouring over him. “The sea has taken much from me,” he murmured, almost to himself, “but it will not take my gratitude. Not now, not ever.” And in that moment, despite the cold, despite the storm, a strange warmth settled within you—a knowledge that even in the vastness of this world, even in its ancient, unyielding tides, your act of courage had changed something. For you had saved not just a life, but a legend. And Círdan would never forget.

[doodle-pops]

Kissing Them Mid-Conversation | House of Elrond + Doriath

「 ✦ Elrond ✦ 」

Elrond had been deep in discussion with you, his voice calm and authoritative as he explained some historical details of Valinor’s history. His eyes were bright with knowledge, the gentle cadence of his speech captivating as always. But you found yourself less focused on his words and more on the way his lips moved, the elegant arch of his eyebrows, the softness in his eyes that contrasted so beautifully with the wisdom they held. You didn’t plan it, but the next thing you knew, you leaned forward and kissed him, silencing him mid-sentence.

His words were cut off as his lips met yours. His initial surprise only lasted a moment before his shoulders relaxed, and he melted into the kiss, his hand instinctively finding its way to your cheek. The conversation was forgotten entirely as he returned the kiss, slow and tender, savouring the moment. When you finally pulled back, he didn’t say anything at first, just stared at you with a faint smile, his fingers brushing your jawline. He chuckled softly, as though the interruption was the most natural thing in the world. No more history for now—he was entirely yours in that moment.

「 ✦ Erestor ✦ 」

You’d been going over a strategy with Erestor, his mind sharp and focused as always. His attention was entirely on the plans spread out before you, his fingers tracing the edges of the map. But as he leaned over the table, the way his dark hair fell into his eyes, the way his lips moved as he muttered to himself—it was all too tempting. Without warning, you reached up and kissed him, cutting through the tension in the air.

Erestor blinked in shock, straightening immediately as if unsure of what just happened. His cheeks flushed a deep red, utterly unprepared for the interruption. He opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again, utterly at a loss for words. His eyes flickered between the map and you as if trying to regain his composure. A nervous chuckle escaped him, and he ran a hand through his hair, clearly flustered. “That...was unexpected,” he managed much softer than before. He didn’t scold you, but his lips curved into a rare smile, and despite the heat in his cheeks, there was a warmth in his eyes that told you he enjoyed it.

「 ✦ Elrohir ✦ 」

Elrohir had been telling you a story, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke, his usual brightness and energy captivating. His smile was contagious, his laughter genuine, and you couldn’t stop yourself. Mid-sentence, as he grinned widely at something he’d said, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his, interrupting him without a second thought.

His initial reaction was a surprised inhale, his body stilling as he processed what had just happened. But in the span of a heartbeat, he was already leaning into the kiss, his hands coming up to cradle your face. He didn’t waste time—he deepened the kiss, his enthusiasm carrying over into this new, far more intimate moment. The conversation was forgotten entirely as he pulled you closer, his lips warm and insistent. When you finally broke apart, he was grinning like a mischievous child caught in the act. “Well, if that’s how you want to interrupt, I’m not complaining,” he teased, his eyes gleaming with playful intent. He wasn’t interested in resuming the conversation anytime soon.

「 ✦ Elladan ✦ 」

Elladan had been in the middle of explaining something to you, his voice smooth and steady, as usual, his expression thoughtful. But you weren’t really listening. You were too distracted by the way his lips formed each word, the way his eyes flicked between you and whatever he was talking about. So you cut him off mid-sentence with a kiss, your lips pressing against his before he could even finish his thought.

His breath froze at the unexpected affection. He blinked, stunned for a brief moment, but then he smiled against your lips. He gently returned the kiss, his hand resting on your waist as if he’d been waiting for an excuse to stop talking all along. When you pulled away, he gave you a knowing look, his eyes gleaming with playful amusement. “If you wanted me to stop talking, you could’ve just asked,” he murmured teasingly in a lower register, though he made no effort to move away from you. The conversation was clearly no longer a priority for him.

「 ✦ Thingol ✦ 」

You had been deep in conversation with Thingol, the great Elven king discussing matters of Doriath with his usual enthusiasm. His words were important, of course, but the way his eyes shone in the soft light, the slight curl of his lips when he smiled—it was all far too distracting. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed him mid-sentence, startling him out of his train of thought.

Thingol stiffened at first, caught entirely off guard by your sudden boldness. His words faltered, and for a moment, he looked utterly stunned. But then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His regal composure softened, and he tilted his head slightly, returning the kiss with a gentle, deliberate tenderness. When you pulled back, he chuckled, low and rich, shaking his head. “You’re a distraction,” he said, amusement clear in his tone. His eyes sparkled, and though he was clearly amused, there was no annoyance in his expression. He lifted a hand to your cheek, brushing his thumb along your skin before murmuring, “But a welcome one.”

「 ✦ Beleg ✦ 」

Beleg had been talking about a recent hunt, his eyes bright with excitement as he recounted the details. His enthusiasm was infectious, and you couldn’t help but watch him with growing affection. He looked so alive, so utterly captivating, that you found yourself leaning in and kissing him right in the middle of his sentence.

He felt him pause, completely caught off guard. His eyes widened, cheeks flushing a deep red as he tried to process what had just happened. For a second, he seemed utterly at a loss, but then a grin broke across his face. “Well, that’s one way to stop me from rambling,” he quipped. He pulled you closer, his arm slipping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “Though I can’t say I mind.” There was a playful glint in his eyes as he looked at you, clearly enjoying your boldness. The conversation was forgotten entirely, replaced by the warmth of his embrace.

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[jolidei]

Of Erestor.

"How dare you keep a secret like this?"

Whisper with restrained frustration to the other being in the room. He showed no guilt in his graceful features if not a disappointment of his own at being found out when he had apparently intended to keep his situation highly private.

"It was a single night we shared, a mistake too improper and one that should not have happened. We are both married after all."

Laughing to himself to keep from shouting, Carnistir looked at him as if they were having a dialogue about taxes or financial loans, besides clearly reducing their encounter to a blunder on both their parts, as if they had joined their Fëas once again as they had done a single night in their distant youths in Valinor; before arranged marriages and early surrenders.

"Let me correct you, we are widowed."

He commented with some venom in his tone, his words even hurt him since the memory of his dearly Elenwë still weighed heavy with the years, in the same way he knew that Carnistir's own wound by Angaráto did not fully heal; and yet, that did not stop them from going to bed on a new account, drinking as much as they could before their minds reacted to make them come to their senses in search of regaining their good sense.

Although the truth was that little heed was paid to his thoughts, Ósanwe had been the one to take sides during their meeting, he remembered Carnistir's insistence on being taken by the cousin who touched him only once before politics separated them, he himself expressed his longing to melt into the weaver as soon as he was ready to receive him without the experience being painful.

The memories accompanied by a sweet cherry wine blinded them enough to comfort each other so that he could say they longed to create something together, Carnistir's prominent belly subtly hidden by his robes was proof of it.

"Return to your hidden city and allow me to live oblivious to you, I didn't need you before and I don't need you now."

Morifinwë responded by cutting you off, placing a hand on his back probably to ease the weight he now carried.

The desire to place his hand on the curve in the other's body was quite present in his thoughts, however he was aware that Carnistir hated to be invaded in this way, something ironic if he thought about the fact of how they came to this situation.

"That elfing is mine and consequently half the responsibility is mine."

Apparently Carnistir started to get irritated as he advanced to him to place one of his fingers on his chest and observe him with exasperation at the same time that he placed his free hand on his belly.

"Why must you be so complicated, Turukáno!? I don't want you, we don't need you!"

Then the Fëanorian had his dark eyes full of anger and tears, for that very reason he refused to let him go, he surrounded Carnistir no matter how angry he himself was and comforted him, Morifinwë struggled a couple of minutes, beat his chest, and even cursed in his native quenya, and yet long minutes later he plunged his face into his neck, and allowed him to do so without hesitation at any time.

"I am here now Moryo."

He waited for a retort, of course, but it never came, and only a whisper escaped the lips of his opponent.

"Erestor."

[essenceofarda]

After a hot summer day, there's nothing better than relaxing and watching the sunset at Imladris' most famous tea house 😌

timelapse under the cut

this took almost 7 hours LOL i'm slow

Also that's Erestor and Glorfindel on the first level. ALSO! don't @ me bc of the roof tiles 😮‍💨😭 pretty sure i drew them inaccurately but ah well...

Things i would do differently? besides the roof tiles Not make the piece overall so dark. I like how it turned out AND it's supposed to be nearing the end of sunset of course, but i feel like if i brightened parts it would be more readable.