#glorfindel x reader

[piorenek]

"Sneaking out"

Parring: Glorfindel x reader

Type: Drabble, fluff

What could go wrong?

Everything apparently.

Sneaking out from your home in the middle of the night wasn't a good idea. But nevertheless, you couldn't miss the opportunity. Being madly in love with the lord of Gondolin definitely wasn't the ideal plan, but when the object of your desire proposed the meeting under the cover of the night, you couldn't say no. Even though you were a grown-up, the thought of being caught made adrenaline rush through your veins.

The sight of your lover made your heart skip a beat. His golden locks shine a little in the light of the moon, and you couldn't resist a smile. When he spotted you, he also smiled even wider than you. Glorfindel offered you his hand, which you took with pleasure.

"What did you plan for this night, my lord?" you ask, smiling at him. "I thought of a walk, but we can do whatever my lady wants." he answers, leaning to kiss your temple. "Then walk it is."

[sorcerousundries]

Lalala vs okokok with lotr and the hobbit

Your the lalala, they’re the okokok

Thorin, Fíli, Aragorn, thranduil, Elrond, Arwen, bilbo, gimli, Sam, Éomer, Glorfindel, Bard, Beorn, glóin, Tauriel, Faramir, Boromir, Haldir, Bifur, Dwalin, Balin, Dori, óin, Galadriel

They’re the lalala, your the okokok

Legolas, Frodo, merry, pippin, Éowyn, kíli, celeborn, also Arwen, Lindir, bombur, ori, nori, bofur, meludir

[doodle-pops]

When You Disappeared After A Fight And They Thought You Left Them

Headcanon: Celebrimbor, Finarfin, Finrod, Glorfindel, Elrond, Gil-Galad

A/N: I realised it’s been far too long since I last wrote for Celebrimbor and Gil-Galad. Don’t worry, no crazy angst, just humour, and hurt/comfort.

Synopsis: After a heated argument, you decided to take a walk to clear your head, only to end up getting caught in a storm, resulting in your absence for a week. They, on the other hand, thought the worse until your return.

Masterlist | Navigation

Celebrimbor

You stepped through the doorway soaked to the bone, your cloak heavy with rain, and boots caked with half-dried mud from the trail. Your fingers were numb by the time you pushed open the forge door, the hinges groaning in a way that made you wince. There was a moment you expected anger, or worse, indifference. But what you got instead was the echo of something heavy crashing to the floor, followed by the very loud, very uneven clatter of tools spilling everywhere.

There he was, Celebrimbor shot around the corner like he’d been fired from a war bow. His hair was a mess, half-tied back with soot streaking his cheek, and the look on his face—pure disbelief.

“You—” He stopped dead in his tracks, clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then unhinged as though a dozen words had just jammed up behind his teeth, he took a shaky step forward. “You’re alive?”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He strode to you without hesitation and grabbing your face in both calloused hands, eyes darting over your soaked features like he couldn’t believe you were real. “I thought you left. You didn’t send word. You didn’t—by the Valar, I thought you were dead or that you—” He sucked in a ragged breath and pulled back, fists clenched. “I thought you left me. Because of what I said.”

Brushing wet strands of hair out of your face, you rolled your eyes. “Because you acted like a stubborn ass and I didn’t feel like getting struck by lightning trying to hike back here during a bloody storm?”

He stared at you like you’d grown a second head. “Storm?”

You gestured at yourself, dripping onto the floor. “Yes. Storm. The week-long monsoon from hell? Trees falling, floods, livestock floating by? What, did you think I was tanning in Ereigon?”

He didn’t say anything while his brows furrowed deeper and hand slowly rose to rub over his face like he was trying to scrub away his shame. “I thought—” He looked away. “I deserved it. I said too much. I was cruel. I...I never should have said those things.”

You dropped your cloak with a thud. “No, you shouldn’t have. You were an ass. You said I never understood your work. That I was only here because I liked the forge’s heat and the free jewellery.”

“I know,” he cut in, wincing. “I know. It was vile. I was angry and—”

“No. You were scared,” you said, stepping into his space, glaring up at him. “Because I told you you’re not a god, and your projects don’t get to eat you alive. And instead of listening, you threw that in my face.”

He sagged visibly. “I haven’t slept in a week. I couldn’t. The bed didn’t feel right without you in it. The forge didn’t sound the same. I couldn’t tell if I was hallucinating you or remembering you wrong. And I’d come home every night hoping you’d be here, and every night the door stayed shut.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So...you missed me?”

His expression was dry enough to bake bread. “I was halfway to building a replica of you from spare chainmail links and cursing your name the entire time. So, yes. I missed you.”

You crossed your arms with a slow smirk forming. “And?”

“And I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes holding yours. “I’ll never say anything like that again. Even when I’m angry, especially when I’m angry. Because losing you—thinking I’d lost you—it wasn’t just unbearable. It made me realise I care about us more than I care about anything I’ve ever made.”

You held his gaze letting him squirm a moment longer out of a quest for satisfaction, then stepped forward and shoved your cold, wet face against his chest. “Good. Because if I’d made it home and you were off brooding in a cave somewhere, I’d have gone back into that storm and hoped for a lightning bolt.”

Releasing let out a short, breathy laugh, his arms wound tightly around your waist. “Remind me to temper my mouth next time.”

“I’ll temper your ass next time.”

“Already sculpting the armour for that, love.”

Finarfin

You opened the heavy front door, expecting silence. Maybe even the stern face of a king trying to pretend he hadn’t cried into a dozen embroidered handkerchiefs. But what you weren’t expecting was to be immediately tackled by golden robes and a blur of hair smelling like lilac oil and nervous sweat.

He squeezed you so tight your spine protested audibly. “Yavanna’s tits, you’re alive!” he gasped against your shoulder, and you had a split second to marvel at him swearing before your feet left the ground.

“Put me down!” you protested while poking his shoulder. “I’ve just walked six leagues through wet forest—I probably smell like moss!”

Suddenly releasing you, his hands moved to cup your face, eyes frantic. “You disappeared. No word. Not even a note. I scoured the coastline. Sent birds. Rode out with the guards. I interrogated a goose herder because he thought he saw someone matching your description two days ago.”

“A goose herder?” you asked, deadpan.

“Bribed him with a wheel of cheese and four loaves of honeyed bread.”

You blinked. “You bribed a man to tell you where I went using baked goods?”

“It’s what I had on hand!” he snapped, then let out a breath and took a half step back. “Where were you?”

You peeled off your dripping cloak and stepped out your soggy boots. “Nearby village. Storm rolled in hard. Bridge collapsed. I was stuck for days before someone even managed to repair the road out.”

He stared, clearly dumbfounded. “You didn’t leave?”

You levelled him a look. “Of course not. Just because you said I had the diplomacy of a drunken orc doesn’t mean I’d up and vanish. I was angry, not deranged.”

His face went sheet white. “I—oh.” He dropped into the nearest chair like his knees had turned to pudding. “You were just stuck. Not gone.”

“I would never just leave you like that,” your muttered in an obvious tone while crossing the room to plop yourself into his lap, and flick his nose. “Although, if you ever talk to me like that again during an argument, I will exile myself. To Angband.”

“I was furious, and stupid, and possibly drunk on elderberry wine. But the moment you were gone, I felt like a hollow man playing king to a room full of ghosts,” he grunted, voice muffled as he buried his face into your neck and arms around your waist, squeezing you tightly.

“You didn’t change the bedsheets.”

He looked up. “Of course not.”

You softened, fingers slipping through his hair. “Next time, trust me to come back. Storms pass. Tempers cool. But you are my home.”

His mouth curled into a small, sheepish smile. “Even when I say utterly regrettable things about your tact?”

“Especially then. Because someone’s got to keep your golden head from floating too far off your shoulders.”

“I shall make it up to you.” He pressed a kiss to your jaw. “Name your price.”

“Hot bath and food. And I’m choosing the bedtime story tonight.”

He grinned. “Even if it’s the one where I accidentally insulted a goose herder and got smacked with a bread roll?”

“Especially that one.”

“And if I cried into my council robes?”

“Oh, I assume you did.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not even if Eru himself demanded it.”

Finrod

The halls were obscenely quiet when you entered. The kind of silence that only existed when someone refused to acknowledge anything around them because they were still stewing. The sheer thought prompted another eye roll—your nth number for the week.

Your cloak dripped steadily onto the mosaic floor of the palace, and you kicked off your boots just inside the entrance. You hadn’t the opportunity to make it three steps before Finrod’s voice echoed coldly from the corridor behind you.

“So you do remember where you live.”

Slowly, you turned to be treated by the sight of him standing with arms crossed, jaw clenched tight, and his golden hair slightly dishevelled like he’d been dragging his hands through it for hours. Nice to see how crazy you were capable of driving him.

You raised a brow, returning the same air of authority. “Nice to see you too.”

Striding forward with an expression so thunderous, he stopped a foot away. “You were gone. A week. No word. No message from the servants. Not even a whisper from the wind.”

“I was trapped in one of the nearby humam settlements. The roads flooded, so one could leave, and the villagers were too busy tying down roofs from becoming birds in the raging wind.”

“I assumed you’d left because of our argument,” he pointed out tightly. “That you’d walked out because I pushed you too far.”

“You told me I didn’t understand what it meant to rule. That I was selfish for questioning your council.”

“I said that in anger!” His voice cracked through the room. “And I regretted it the moment you walked away! I thought, give them time. A day. Maybe two. But then three passed. Then four. The storm hit, and every rider I sent returned empty-handed—”

“You sent riders?” you questioned in softness.

“Dozens.” He scrubbed his face with both hands. “And when they found nothing, I thought maybe…maybe you left because I made you feel like you didn’t belong.”

He looked at you with all the sharpness fading into raw hurt. “Do you have any idea what it’s like walking these halls thinking you’ve destroyed the best thing in your life with a few words? I held court with a mask for six days and couldn’t remember what you looked like when you smiled.”

Your mouth twitched. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Entirely.” His tone didn’t even attempt denial. “I was halfway through composing a lament by the fifth night.”

“My goodness.”

“Yes. There were rhymes.”

You made a noise of mock horror. “Please tell me you didn’t sing.”

“I’m not saying I did.” He looked sideways. “But if I did, it was very moving.”

You couldn’t resist snorting. “You idiot.”

His shoulders sagged. “Your idiot,” he corrected, then softened his tone with an ounce of hesitation, “if you’ll still have me.”

Closing the gap, you reached up to cup his face, and his hands flew to your waist like he was afraid you’d vanish if he let go. “I would’ve sent word if I could,” you murmured. “But the weather was horrible. And…I was angry. But I didn’t leave you.”

Slowly he exhaled, pressing his forehead against yours. “Good. Because I love you. And if you had left, I’d have to write a second lament.”

“You absolute menace.”

“Still your menace.”

Glorfindel

Glorfindel appeared in the hallway like the same storm you just faced—wild hair unbraided, tunic only half-buttoned, his expression caught between fury, disbelief, and the unmistakable shine of near-tears. The moment your foot crossed the threshold, you barely had time to shut the door before the sound of his boots thundered across the floor, approaching.

“You,” he growled, pointing an accusatory finger like he wasn’t entirely convinced you weren’t some hallucination conjured by a grief-addled mind. “You vanished for a week!”

You dropped your soaked cloak with a soggy thud and blinked at him, soaked from head to toe. “There was a storm. The roads were flooded—”

“I know there was a storm!” he snapped. “I sent out three search parties! I threatened to punch Círdan when he suggested you might’ve just needed ‘space’!”

“You threatened Círdan?” you cried in utter disbelief.

He threw up his arms. “He was being philosophical at me when I hadn’t slept since the third day! I thought you were dead, or kidnapped! Or—” his voice cracked, and the rage drained out of him, leaving him standing there looking wrecked and years older.

“…Or gone,” he whispered quietly. “And I couldn’t even remember what the last thing I said to you was. Only that you were angry. And then you were gone.”

Your brows furrowed as you stepped forward, boots squelching on the wood. “You told me I was being ‘dramatic,’ Fin.”

“I meant adorably dramatic,” he muttered instantly, stepping toward you with equal urgency. “You were huffing. Your nose scrunches when you’re angry, it’s precious—and you know I’m terrible with words when I’m angry—”

You narrowed your eyes. “You called me a spoiled elfling and stormed out.”

“…Okay,” he admitted, wincing. “Not my finest moment. But I stormed out intending to return and apologise! I bought apple pastries on the way back! And when I returned you were just…gone. No note. No sign. And then the storm hit, and I kept thinking, what if the last thing you ever heard from me was—was that?”

He looked almost offended when you didn’t immediately throw yourself into his arms to console him. Instead, you wrung out your cloak and calmly replied, “You’re the one who stormed off like you were starring in a stage play.”

There a strangled noise that was somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. “I was dramatic. Fine. But—you were the one who walked into the rain and disappeared like some moody soliloquy. You didn’t think maybe sending a bird? A single raven?”

“I tried,” you replied sarcastically. “The damn birds couldn’t fly in the storm. One nearly got knocked out of the sky by a tree branch the size of your ego.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Then gave a grudging nod before the silence stretched. His hands clenched and unclenched like he didn’t know what to do with them. Then, with a grumble, he reached forward and tugged you into his arms.

You were still soggy, but he didn’t care.

“I’m not letting you out of my sight again,” he murmured, burying his face in your shoulder. “You’re lucky I didn’t start writing poems in mourning and have every elf in Imladris listen to me.”

You snorted. “You’d write poems?”

“Dramatic and weeping.”

“You really are ridiculous.”

“You love me.”

“…Unfortunately.”

He kissed your neck, desperate and rough. “Don’t vanish on me again. Or I will punch Círdan.”

Elrond

The moment Elrond saw you walking through the front gates of Imladris, muddy, rain-streaked, and glaring at the sky like it had insulted your lineage, he dropped the teacup he’d been holding. Not caring that it shattered beyond repair—as did his composure.

“Where in the Void have you been?”

You flinched, clearly you had been imagining this exact moment for seven storm-soaked days and still weren’t ready for it. “Well, hello to you, too,” you croaked, pushing back your hood. “You wouldn’t believe the week I’ve had—”

“You disappeared,” he cut in, striding toward you with wide, sharp eyes. “Without a note. Without a message. Even without your cloak, for Eru’s sake! And after that—”

“—ridiculous argument,” you finished. “Yes. I remember. Mostly the part where you accused me of never taking anything seriously and that being with you was a responsibility, not a game.”

He stopped in his tracks. “I didn’t mean—”

“You did,” you snapped. “And I was furious. So I took a walk for some air. Then for half an hour before the heavens cracked open, a tree fell on the road, and a lovely travelling merchant shoved me into a barn before I was flattened by lightning.”

“You could have sent a bird—”

“Oh, yes! Of course. Send a bird in the middle of a raging storm!” you exclaimed, flailing your hands in the air. “Why didn’t I think about that?”

He rubbed his face with both hands and made a sound that could only be described as part groan, part sob. “I thought you were gone. Not ‘temporarily cross and got caught in a freak storm’ gone—actually gone. I haven’t slept. I’ve started yelling at the staff. I called Glorfindel ‘ammë’ yesterday.”

You paused and raised an eyebrow. “Did he cry?”

“He curtsied.”

Well, that was the cue that broke you. You doubled over with laughter while Elrond stood there, baffled and tired and vaguely damp from standing outside in his night robe all week like some cursed spirit.

“Look,” you said, voice shaking as you sobered up, “I didn’t plan to vanish. But you hurt me. You said something harsh, I said something worse, and then I got stranded with a farmer who thought my name was ‘Moss.’”

“Moss?”

“I was too tired to correct him.”

Cautiously, he stepped closer with his eyes dropping to your feet. “I am sorry. I was harsh, and worried, and frightened.”

“I know,” you muttered. “I figured that out somewhere between the second lightning strike and the moment a goat tried to eat my sleeve.”

“Come inside,” he said softly while reaching out to clasp your fingers and guide you indoor. “You’re soaked, blue and clearly on the brink of falling ill. Your boots are—are those not your boots?”

“They belonged to a man named Oloron who lost his in the river. We swapped. Don’t ask.”

Stepping closer, he lifted his hand to cradle your face, his warm thumb rubbing your cold skin. “I missed you. The house missed you. The trees were quiet.”

“That’s creepy.”

“It’s true.”

Instinctively leaned into him without warning, and he caught you without hesitation, arms dropping to warm around you like he thought you might vanish again if he didn’t anchor you down.

“Say it again,” you murmured into his chest.

“I missed you.”

“Good. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t.”

Gil-galad

The halls of Lindon were colder than usual. Not from the biting winds or damp stone, but from your absence, resulting in the great High King from not slept in a week—he barely ate, save for the few times Elrond had coaxed him into chewing through half a honeyed fig like some pitiful, lovesick warlord. All because you two had argued. Loudly.

It first started off a something petty—maybe it was about the council and his constant dodging of your concerns, or maybe the usual ‘you don’t understand the pressure I carry’ rubbish—before escalating. Whatever it was, he’d been dismissive, you’d been furious, and by the time the shouting had stopped, so had your presence in the house.

You hadn’t left a message with the maids. No word. Not even a note. Nothing but a door left ajar and silence heavier than the storm clouds that rolled in that night.

For two days, he searched, storm or not. Rode halfway to Forlond and back with soaked boots and a bruised ego. It didn’t matter that the rain pelted like knives or that his guards warned him of landslides. You were gone. You could have been dead for all he knew, and the last words he’d thrown at you had been, “If you can’t handle this life, perhaps you shouldn’t be part of it.”

Beautiful. Regal. Worthy of carving onto his tombstone, right next to Beloved Idiot.

So when the front door creaked open on the eighth morning, dripping with mud and exhaustion, and you stumbled in with your cloak barely clinging to your shoulders, Gil-galad froze mid-pace on the staircase.

“...You have three seconds to explain before I start wailing like a widow.”

You blinked at him, water streaming off your nose. “I got stuck in a bloody storm,” you grumbled. “The bridge collapsed, the path to Lindon was flooded, and the only inn in the village had one bed, and a family of six already in it. So, I’ve been drying socks by the hearth of an old woman named Sarah who thought I was some war orphan.”

“You didn’t think to send someone?”

“In the raging storm?”

“Birds fly in storms!”

“Yes, foolish Birds who have a death wish.”

He stomped down the stairs. “Do you have any idea what I thought happened? I buried you in my head five times! I thought you were dead, or worse—gone. Just…left.”

“Well that’s romantic.” You threw your arms in the air, which would’ve been more dramatic had you not slapped a soaked glove into your own face. “Why would I just leave?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he barked, sarcasm thick. “Maybe because your husband said something truly wretched and didn’t even apologise before you vanished into a torrential abyss?”

Your glare could’ve melted mithril at this point. “I was going to come home after a day, but then mudslides happened and cows started floating down the river like logs, and some bloody elf thought that was the perfect time to lecture me about duty and whether I’m ‘suited’ for this life!”

He winced. “...Yes. That would be me.”

“No shit.”

You both stared at each other, soaking wet and shaking for very different reasons. But then he stepped forward and flung his arms around you, his warrior-made body weighted upon yours and solid against your weary bones.

“You’re freezing,” he murmured into your hair. “And probably hungry. I left stew on the fire. It’s awful. I overdid the garlic. But it’s warm.”

You stifled a laugh at the absurdity of him assuming you would leave him, unsure whether to cry or punch him. “You thought I left.”

“I did. And if you ever actually leave without a message again, I’ll throw myself into the sea.”

You snorted while attempting to gently pry him off so his attire wouldn’t be drenched and smelling, however, he resisted your efforts. “You’d float. You’re too full of hot air.”

“Not the sweet reunion I was hoping for,” he muttered, burying his face into your neck. “But I’ll take it. Just don’t go running off without me.”

Taglist: @lilmelily @ranhanabi777 @rain-on-my-umbrella @mysticmoomin @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @ladyenchanted @sakurayaxd @aconstructofamind @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora @elficially-done-with-life @feanorynz @6esi @will-0-wsps @the0twst0shrimp0mc @ella-error505 @xximmortalkissxx @gauntletgirlie @aghostlywhisper

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

[n0tamused]

heard u were desperate for elf asks and me, the local elf fucker, has decided to grace your life pookie😚

elves who have still yet to start their courting with their human s/o, finding pieces of themselves in their work room or finding their human passed out over a table. huffing about human fragility under their breaths, walking over to drag them back to their bed for a proper rest, freezes before their ears turn a cute pink because their sweet mortal was musing about them. whether it be poetry draft, painting, art, sculpture in process, embroidery — anything. and elves adore art, so this is like skipping straight to “will you marry me?” before starting their dating

A/n: thank you for stopping by once again Nobu! Please stop more often hdhfhhs <3 I do hope you like this pookie. I planned to put even more characters into this, but that would have been too much for one post, so I'll separate it into another post tehee

Content: Thranduil, Glorfindel, Maedhros x GN!Reader, fluff hcs, a tinge of angst in Maedhros' part (ofc)..

𓄃Thranduil

-The vast forests of Mirkwood held much beauty, and even more when one looked closer into them. The trees were one of a kind, holding memories of old and having seen rises and falls of  both elf and man. Yet they all remained steadfast, roots holding them upright. In the same manner, Thranduil held himself

-It was an image not many could ever hope to replicate, and a trait many aspired to have, like big fancy shoes one hopes to grow into

-And perhaps you have spent too long in the Woodland realm, you’ve learned a lot, but a lot more was waiting to be learned as well. It came to a boiling point where you were growing fussy with yourself for not having a pipe through which to blow your steam out through. There was so much beauty and lore, yet you couldn’t find a way to capture it all. And seeing all of this, your tense display, Thradnuil had gifted you paints and canvases and brushes, and a whole new room so well illuminated that you could even paint in it during the night, given you had a good candle with you. 

-It came as a relief, having your own space, yet you felt indebted to him as much as you felt flattered that the elven-king cared so much about your comfort. When he had approached you with the request to court you, he almost seemed aloof, despite his request holding many thoughtful words and his gifts showing even more care. But that could be just the little voice of the devil that came with courting one of the most important figures in Middle-Earth. You didn’t express this much to Thranduil, for he really did his best at meeting you halfway with the courting traditions of men and elves.

-In turn you decided to paint him. Or, at least, try to do so. It would be worth it. So you set out on this quest and holed yourself in the painting room, having selected a medium sized canvas and the best colors you could ever hope to pair up with one another. The initial layout looked good, with Tranduil standing in the woods, surrounded by greens, oranges and reds, wearing an outfit he recently wore when he took you out on a walk through the forest. There is also a large elk approaching him in the painting, but you saved the animal to be painted last. You had covered most of the canvas, nearly finished with the backdrop of multiple tree trunks and you were working your way to the foreground when your vision began to droop and blur.

-Raising your head you saw that it was well past sunset and you could no longer see the color on your canvas as well, your candle was flickering out.

-But your chambers seemed a world away, you could not bother to try your legs to walk the distance. And the next best thing was the bench in the room, usually reserved for any guests you may have hosted, but tonight it would be your bed. You moved the plush pillows and the blanket around until you were comfortable, and you finally shut your eyes for the last time that night.

-Thranduil had wandered in some time later, finding it rather odd that he hadn't seen you for the entire day, and the guards he asked about your whereabouts had little answers as well. But his instincts told him you’d be here.

-He went in with his lamp, alone venturing into your space and  seeing the canvas first. For half a heartbeat he half-expected to find you behind it, painting in the dark - humans had weird ways of doing things, he realized

-But once he went around it, he only saw an empty chair and unwashed brushes, crusted with paint. And the unfinished painting..

-His breath stopped in his throat, his brows furrowing as he leaned in closer, shining the light of the lamp onto the canvas. He thought his mind was playing tricks on him, surely it wasn’t his likeness he was seeing in the sketch lying underneath the drying paint? But the worse option was to believe that it was another elf wearing his attire

-A soft hum snapped his focus away, and he turned to see you shifting in your sleep. It was then when he felt his ears begin to burn, his lips pushing into a thin line as he attempted to ease his heart from beating so terribly fast, too hard, he felt it beating against the bones of his ribcage

-He coughed into the palm of his hand then took a deep breath, approaching you after what felt like an eternity of waiting. It was in your shared interest that you sleep somewhere comfortable.. 

-Despite his racing thoughts, he did make it a point to talk to you in the morning about your courtship, perhaps this was your way to signal him that you were ready for the next stage..? 

☀︎Glorfindel

-There are not many things that can catch Glorfindel by surprise; he is a seasoned individual, both in the art of combat and in more mundane things. He has seen much, and more. His mind is not so closed off to the change in the world, and while he is used to planning things, strategizing, his mind does prefer to take life one day at a time. Let life be the present moment until tomorrow arrives.

-You came into his life rather unexpectedly, but he welcomed you all the same. What feelings began to brew he had hoped to keep secret for a while longer, but once he realized that things were not going to change and that his feelings were only growing, taking into account your mortality, he had approached you and asked to court you

-He delivered the speech elegantly, armed with his usual carefree and easy going demeanor, but once his breath fell short towards the end you could tell that this meant a lot to him. And stepping into this more intimate relationship with him felt much easier than expected, but now you just had much more affection from him, and you had the privilege of seeing him more as well

-It was only natural that your own nature led to you wanting, even needing, to preserve him in some form of a craft. To flatter him the same way he did you, or to simply have something to remind you of him when he wasn’t with you

-Poems you tried, but no word seemed sufficient enough to capture Glorfindel’s character. Art you tried too, but you proved not skilled enough to satisfy yourself with those results. So you turned to something else - embroidery. It wasn’t easy, but the process was more satisfying and the image that was slowly coming into reality made you much more happier than the other attempts at making something in the image of Glorfindel

-It was a bit of a challenge to discard the failed attempts from him, but embroidery was easier to deal with before the bigger image was beginning to materialize. ‘It’s only a little something I’m making…for decor!’ or ‘I wish to give my mother something as a gift’ and so on. Glorfindel did not distrust you on that. It made sense, and why would you hide anything from him, anyway?

-Perhaps you overestimated yourself with your human strength, staying night after night doing work or finishing the embroidery or being unable to sleep. But exhaustion finally caught up to you one evening as you were sitting by the hearth. The warmth of the fire was licking up your arms and the side of your face, tempting you to close your eyes, lulling you to sleep. And before you knew it, your heavy eyelids giving way to darkness to overtake you

-Glorfindel found you in your chair, chin on your chest and arms stretched down to your lap, fingers still touching the wooden hoop keeping the canvas in place. The needle was slipping from your fingers, hanging on by a thread. 

-Glorfindel shook his head and approached slowly, being light on his feet as he took the needle from your limb fingers. The thread pulled at the canvas as he picked it up, and it was then when he saw the picture you were making. His brows furrowed in focus and he felt more alert than a moment prior. He pried the wooden embroidery hoop from your hand and picked it up to take a closer look. Now that he thought of it, he hasn’t seen the progress made on this in a long while. 

-It was a field of golden flowers, carefully crafted with yellow thread and in the middle was a finished white horse, and a person - well most of them. They were unfinished and only the shoulders-down of the body was visible, but Glorfindel recognized the clothes as his own, and he could recognize Asfaloth in any format.

-He wasn’t caught by surprise often, he held and open and calm mind, but even if he had expected this, even if he did hope for this, it made his heart feel like bursting 

-He had to hold himself back from bowing down beside you, taking your sleepy face in his hands only to wake you up with a dozen of kisses

-Glorfindel really did his best to not cause a scene in that moment, and after a moment of simply admiring the artwork and tracing the pads of his fingers over the thread on canvas, his smile only growing, he had to remind himself that you were still asleep in a chair. And your back wouldn’t be thanking you in the morning for that

-After setting aside your embroidery, he gently picked you up and carried you to bed, smiling all the way and feeling how his chest swam with joy and a feeling he could only describe as a well-stuffed feather bed

-He laid you down, bringing the covers over you and for a moment longer he just admired you, having so much to tell you, but he settled with a kiss to your cheek for now, making a note to himself to make a better gift for you, and to ask for your hand soon.

⚔︎Maedhros

-There was little place for a human in Maedhros’ life, even as wars came and went and brought before him countless faces only for him to see them fall before him in the days following. He has seen much, too much, but there was only one path in his life, and it lay ahead of him.  Yet, even his path wasn’t made wholly of only the things he knew. There were things changing, with him and around him

-It was strange to have someone with him. Ever since you came into his life Maedhros had slowly begun to adjust the ways when it came to interacting with you, and what  chats you two had always managed to take his mind off of the constant battles and the Oath. It took a longer time for him to realize it and come to terms with his feelings, but once he did he plucked up whatever strength and elegance he could summon. He remembered the person he was before coming here, before everything, and he did his best to emulate that stability and a bit more cheerful demeanor. How much that works.. well you can imagine. But that does not mean he was bad at it, just not as good as enthusiastic as he imagined he’d be </3 He does think about it later and does wonder if you would have preferred if he asked in some other fashion

-Maedhros visits you when he can, although the truly private times between the two of you are far and few between with such a big host of people following him and waiting on his orders. He does treasure any moment he has with you. He hold your hand and kisses the inside of your wrists before he has to depart, kisses your forehead when he comes to see you and sits right besides you for as long as he is with you

-His heart had grown much more fond of you, it feels alive and the scars he bears nearly feel non-existent when he’s around you

-And little by little, you manage to get the old Maedhros from underneath the rubble. He had  taken habit to calling you ‘his light’ in elvish, among some other endearments

-It was a late night when he came to visit you, and he did expect he might not find you awake at the hour but he tried his luck regardless as he went into your chambers. Despite your earlier claims that ‘he doesn’t need to knock’ he knocked anyway, only opening the door when he got no response.

-And there you were. Sitting at your little table (although everything average to us is little to Maedhros-) with your head on your arms. A quil rested between your fingers, and a blotch of ink was left both on paper and the wooden surface. As much as it was endearing at first, Maedhros couldn’t help but worry. He hurried in, carefully closing the doors and peering at your face before he agreed with that little voice in his head - you were fine, just asleep.

-His large palm tenderly caressed your upper back, coaxing your sleepy self to move just enough until the point he could pick you up without jostling you around too much. Your bed was just beside the table, so after he had settled you in, he smiled at the  thought of your stubbornness to leave your work corner. He knew you could be stubborn beyond measure, especially about things that you held dear to heart

-Not wanting to depart yet, he went back to your table to see what he could do with the spilled ink and scattered papers

-He found a towel nearby and used it to suck up the wet ink - the dry splotches were beyond his skill. It was quiet work, but he found his mind wandering, one might even call it relaxing. 

-He was picking up papers absentmindedly, not wishing to overstep your own trust by peering into whatever it is you scribbled down

-And he held onto that thought until he glimpsed something he couldn’t ignore. Since when did you know elvish?

-It suddenly came into view, the papers he held in hand were all letters in elvish, although each stroke revealed you were a novice in the language, but he also saw effort and thoughtfulness. The first page began with ‘Dear Maedhros’ and then the rest continued on into a poem. Maedhros thought he was dreaming, and had to glimpse outside the window to remind himself where he was 

-He read through and found himself falling apart from within. Each line, each word, addressed to him held so much love and care, it meant more than any song some bard could sing of his valor in battle. And it was written by you - and you’ve seen how ugly he could be, yet you wrote how you loved him all.

-He was probably as red as his hair, but his lips also twisted downwards in this pout-like expression keeping tears at bay. His heart felt full, too full for him to manage. Maedhros doesn’t remember the last time he felt like this. And with his curiosity sparked, he peered into the crumbled letters scattered around, finding even more verses that were unfinished. On the corner of the table was a thick book, almost crumbling to ashes from how old it looked, but he recognized it as the first book holding the alphabet of men and elves, translations and grammatical rules to follow

-Maedhros sat down, not trusting his legs to keep him upright anymore, holding the letters to his chest.

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[rivendell-poet]

i absolutely adore ur headcanons posts with the lotr characters but i didn’t know how many characters you take requests for per headcanon post so i’ll keep it very short ehehe

how would the elves (legolas, thranduil, lindir, glorfindel, meludir, haldir and feren) react to human who is just affectionate even before courtship starts? morning hugs, lemme braid ur hair, surprise tackle hugs or see u later forehead kisses? just thought it would be funny to see the elves go beet red with perked up ears since y’know, they’re not as affectionate as humans

thanks so much! (and so sorry for the wait, completely my bad) legit an honour to have you request from me/say you like my works. and I completely agree with the thought being funny, and here it is as headcanons!

(full disclosure, i've written once/not at all for the last three characters - please tell me if they're ooc)

*･༓˚✧ ❝𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫❞ ‧͙⁺˚༓˚✧ « headcanons »

○ Legolas ○ Thranduil ○ Haldir ○ Lindir ○ Meludir ○ Feren ○ Glorfindel ○

GN!Reader | TWs : None | Wordcount : 1.3k

𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐬

✧ Depends on if he’s travelled with the Fellowship, or if he hasn’t.

✧ Either way he’ll go still for a second, eyes gently going to you as if to check you’re actually doing what you’re doing. And of course there’s a light blush that’s spreading across his face.

✧ He gingerly hugs you back, unsure whether or not to squeeze you in it like you’re squeezing him. And when you give him a little forehead kiss he simply freezes in your arms. 

✧ Wonders, just for a second, if you somehow started courting and he didn’t realise. Then he simply stays there and gives a smile.

✧ It isn’t forced, just slightly uncertain - he’s never experienced this before.

✧ Later comes up to you and awkwardly thanks you before retreating backwards.

✧ If he’s been in the Fellowship for long enough he starts to reciprocate the gestures on a smaller scale.

✧ Legolas can very easily be convinced to braid your hair as well, and he takes it very seriously.

✧ Lays out his cloak so you can sit on the grass. Does a few small ones so you can see which one is preferable.

✧ When you’re not courting he feels a little guilty doing it - as your hair falls through his fingers it’s almost like you are together. And he doesn’t want to take advantage of that. But he likes you too much to stop, and you braid his hair as well.

✧ Is probably the quickest of the elves to get used to it, aside from Glorfindel.

𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐢𝐥

✧ In an odd way, he’s one of the elves who craves it the most.

✧ Everyone else has some casual touches, a reassuring gesture by a friend. But no-one is brave enough to touch the King of Mirkwood. Until you.

✧ He’s missed warmth, he’s missed the sense of other people that you can now bring.

✧ Thranduil finds himself at first leaning into the hugs, before remembering that he should be proper. That he’s maintained a colder persona for so long. (He still can’t fully hide his reluctance as he pulls away.)

✧ The people who know him well are surprised when he doesn’t admonish you, before they realise why. You don’t understand why the king is suddenly glaring at someone behind you.

✧ Eventually he starts to return the gestures as well, although to start they are more careful.

✧ As begins to braid your hair - the light touches causing some strands to escape and generally become loose - you remind him that you’re not made of glass.

✧ You’ve been able to almost tackle him with a surprise hug, he can touch you with more than a feather-light weight.

✧ Once the two of you start courting he accepts the gestures more easily, although he’ll never become quite as good at spontaneous physical gestures of affection.

✧ Throughout the entire time he remains impressively blush free, although he does tense quite a lot.

𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ You’ve seen how the poor elf froze when Aragorn simply hugged him. He’s very unused to gestures like this.

✧ He does like them - or at least, judging by the way he’ll steadily grow red he thinks he does. Or maybe he simply likes you.

✧ You have almost certainly triggered his fight/flight/freeze instinct on more than one occasion with a surprise hug, although he’s getting better at it. There’s a low chuckle, and a small smile when he realises it’s just you.

✧ People being this naturally affectionate is a curiosity to him, but when it comes from you it’s something he’s eager to know more about.

✧ Although the gestures, the small kiss on your forehead in greeting and such, are at first stiff and uncertain he gets better with them.

✧ Half the time when he’s greeting you with a forehead kiss, his lips really want to ask you ‘what are we?’. Or perhaps kiss yours.

✧ Still, Haldir is content to wait for a while. Even if he freezes up, your gestures still mean so much to him.

✧ Things become clearer when you eventually start courting, and all the affection feels more natural to him.

✧ There’s moments where Haldir simply blushes as he stands next to you, but every day the elf becomes more sure of your bond - and gives more expression to it.

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ Also blushes a lot, his breath slightly catching before he tries to amend whatever he’s done. A small cough, or perhaps a bow to you in greeting - a vague hope some of the red will have gone when he comes up again.

✧ How you greet him, the quick kisses or the hugs, pulls him straight into romance stories he hasn’t read (or at least acknowledged reading) since he was a young elfling.

✧ And even then the gestures where between those already together, not like the two of you.

✧ Yet he doesn’t ever draw away, finds his gaze lingering on whatever has occurred.

✧ After the first time you’d braided his hair he’d nervously approached you again, asking if you braid it the following day as well.

✧ What you’re doing is unusual, but he can’t bring himself to care. Even the worries he has about seem to dissipate when you smile at him, or say goodbye with a kiss.

✧ Even after you start courting he still can’t stop his face from blushing horribly. Although he no longer hides it - he’s proud to be that deeply in love with you.

𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐫

✧ When you first meet him, your interaction is brief. Not too many words exchanged as he talks to you, and then again as you disappear. Except for ‘goodbye’ kiss you give him.

✧ It’s feather light, but as an elf he could feel it so clearly. The brush of your lips against his skin, the way your eyes had sparkled. How quickly blush had rushed to his cheeks.

✧ Meludir lifts a hand to the spot you touched him, almost as if expecting something. But there is nothing, just the memory of your affection.

✧ Unlike the other elves, he can’t help but try to seek out your affection. Returning a friendly kiss with a gesture of his own, even if he can’t quite bring himself to kiss you back.

✧ There’s always a smile on his face after you’ve done something, big or small, and a sprinkling of blush to accompany it.

𝐅𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧

✧ The first time you do such a gesture to him he’s quite certain that it’s by mistake.

✧ The second time you do it, or something similar, you can see him freeze for a second (trying to process it) before he turns to you. Almost confused, trying to understand why.

✧ Feren eventually just accepts it, although that doesn’t stop him from getting slightly flustered.

✧ As a diplomat the brief kisses, the friendly greetings aren’t too bad. He can adapt, he can get used to this new social interaction. What he can’t get used to is the more intimate gestures of affection.

✧ You truly see him flustered for the first time when you offer to braid his hair. The way he looks to you, words suddenly gone as you smile at him.

✧ It’s also these interactions he craves more than anything else.

𝐆𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥

✧ There is a small part of you that’s, quietly, intimidated by the golden warrior. But when he laughs with you, a rich, lighter laugh than you expected accompanied by a radiant smile, you realise you have nothing to be afraid of.

✧ Still, the goodbye hug you give him is slightly shy.

✧ There’s a moment where he simply lets you hug him, before he ever-so-gently returns the gesture; careful to be light and to not trap you.

✧ The smile he had on his face is still there when you pull away, which gives you a little more confidence.

✧ And Glorfindel is so happy you have the confidence. He’ll still blush when you’re affectionate, but it’s more because he likes you than he’s embarrassed.

✧ (One exception is the kisses, which do turn his ears red. He still looks forward to them from you, however.)

✧ Will return quite a few of the gestures, although like Thranduil you have to remind him that you’re not made of glass.

A/N : Comes back to drop this fic with no explanation, leaves immediately again- Just kidding. I should be back again, sorry for the long wait; I've been very ill & then my laptop broke, so. 2025 been going... interestingly

« masterlist » thank you for reading *･༓˚✧ Taglist : @celestialhole / @starwars2222 / @xiaoseminence / @withasideofmeg / @nilintakan ✧ wish to be tagged?

✧ @wordbunch / @bespectacledhuman / @howling-medic / @paigemackenzie0206 / @northernwing

✧ @ferns-fics / @chewgazellechew / @recordofragnarokfan2 / @stormchaser819 / @raikan624

✧ @anchy-bananchy / @zeldastrife / @killermarionette / @deannie13 / @fleurdemiel-145

✧ @themuseinthewoods / @wisheduponastar

[danger-xylophones]

Hello there! I’ve just been looking at some of your Tolkien asks for the elves and I thought you were a really good writer, so I was wondering if you’d be open to writing about how the elves would react to finding out their human friend had parents that didn’t get along that well or argued a lot, and just really disliked each other? I don’t even know if they’d even have a concept of that, because elvish couples love once and forever. If you don’t want to write that, it’s perfectly ok. I understand that this is a sensitive topic for a lot of people, but I just wanted to ask :) Regardless, have a nice day!

Warnings: discussion of unstable/unhappy house holds, illusions to abuse/neglect

Note: I’ve included some elves invented for ROP and The Hobbit movies

Note 2: thank you for this request, it led me down several rabbit holes and now I know exactly how fucked up Celebrimbor’s father was

Masterlist

I think the elves understand on some base level that it is possible for parents to hate each other, especially the ones that interact with humans more often like Elrond.

They’re timeless beings after all, who have seen the rise and fall of countless kingdoms of man. They know the propensity for greed and malice.

But it’s always abstract to them the same way true death is.

In the back of their minds they think it must have such an adverse effect on the child that it would be easy to spot.

Some are naive enough to assume that every person that chose to follow Morgoth and Sauron must have had parents who hated each other.

So when you reveal that you grew up in such a household it rocks their shit it startles quite a few of them.

In order from least to most surprised:

Arondir

As a guard of the south lands, he is constantly dealing with humans. He understands, I think best of all those listed, the broad range of dynamics possible in a human household and I’m sad to say he’s probably had to break up quite a few fights between parents.

So when you tell him, he’s rather unfazed. Not to say that he doesn’t care that you grew up in such a household but he knows that it isn’t something some people like to talk about. He offers you a firm squeeze on the shoulder and offers his ear should you ever want to talk about it though.

If you still live with your parents, he makes a point to start watching them more closely. He wants to be ready should he have to do something.

Elrond

Given his past list of parental figures and him being half-human, Elrond understands the best out of Tolkien’s elves. That’s not say his parents were bad but he has the best experience with uncommon households out of the elves on this list.

Younger or older, he approaches your situation with empathy. Similar to Arondir, he doesn’t try to pry but makes it clear that he is here for you if you want him to be. He also offers up a room in his house if you still live with your parents. He goes a step further though to offer a place to stay to any siblings you have as well.

He doesn’t claim to understand exactly what growing up around people like that does to one’s mental health but he is willing to do the research needed to become an advocate for you and for those who grew up like you.

Galadriel

Galadriel as we know her in the books and PJ’s films has the best intuition about the situation you grew up in. She’s incredibly mature and has a cunning to her that isn’t present in the other elves on this list.

Honestly, she might figure out that your home wasn’t exactly happy before you even tell her - catching all those little signs; the hesitation before mentioning your family, the careful censoring in certain anecdotes, or the complete lack of mentioning them. She catches them and puts two and two together.

I’m torn on if she’d ask you directly or wait for you to tell her. The first option wants for tact but I believe Galadriel can almost see the scars on your psyche and wants to help them heal. Regardless, you are always welcome in Lothlorien should the need arise.

Celebrimbor

Despite how low he is placed, Celebrimbor I think has the closest lived experience to you. He’s down this low because he thinks the shittiness of his father is an exclusive trait to him. It doesn’t actually cross his mind that humans deal with awful parents as well so he is quite shocked to learn this about you.

To be fair, we don’t know who his mother is and by all accounts her and Curufin could have had a wonderful marriage but I find this unlikely given his temper.

Celebrimbor understands best of all the shadow that rests on your shoulders - the creeping dread that rests in your heart whenever you hear a raised voice. Celebrimbor is a good person to rant to because he understands the anger the best and while his father may have committed atrocities in the name of avenging his father - he is careful not to overshadow your own tumultuous feelings whenever you do express them. He just listens, adding scathing commentary when needed.

Honestly, you revealing the truth about your own parents relieves him a little - not because you grew up like that but because someone finally understands what it’s like for him as well. None of the other elves get it. But you do.

Arwen/Elladan/Elrohir

So, the reason these three are grouped together is simple - they’re raised by Elrond. They understand the weird direction of their father’s life and he talks openly about its effect on him with all three of them as they grow up. So, they are a prime example of the elves understanding that parents hating each other is a thing that happens, but none of them have first-hand experience with it.

Arwen, to her credit understands the best out of Elrond’s children. I fully believe she inherited Elrond’s foresight and uses it to intuit what she doesn’t understand already. Still, she is surprised to hear about your parents and tries her best to get her head around it. But she is not immune to the “why did they stay together” question. In her defense, she doesn’t expect you to have an answer.

Her brothers on the other hand do ask you fully expecting you to have some wisdom about it that they don’t. Being some of the youngest elves on this list, it makes sense. They’re mature enough to know that they don’t know everything but not mature enough to comprehend that you don’t know everything either.

All three of them have a million questions but try their best not to bombard you with them. They do, however, insist to their father that he help you with housing if you or your siblings should need it.

Lindir

I believe Lindir to be a smart but sheltered elf. We don’t know how old he is so I personally believe he is on the younger side, maybe barely older than Elladan and Elrohir.

He’s bookish and as a result of that he has a very scholarly understanding of the world - so he has possibly read stories about dysfunction households. But I think he believes them inventions of the author. As in, he thinks they are isolated incidents and not unfortunately common truths for the children of men.

He is floored when you tell him. He is good about not bombarding you with questions but he will ask you why your parents married in the first place. Whether you tell him they were in love once or were a political marriage he can only nod slowly as if he understands (he does not, he is so confused). He can only offer to do what he does best - listen to you if you choose to tell him.

Gil-Galad

Gil-Galad is someone who falls victim to his own preoccupations. It never crosses his mind that the attraction patterns of men are different from elves. He’s not so sheltered to think it impossible but it’s like an out of sight out of mind thing for him. He just doesn’t realize it’s a possibility.

In his defense, he does have a lot of things to worry about as high king and unfortunately the interpersonal politics of humans are not top of the list.

But he’s curious when you tell him and he listens attentively. Whether your parents married for social gain, love, or convenience - he asks careful questions about what it was like to grow up in such an environment. He wants to help and after you tell him this, he resolves to find a way to help other humans currently caught in unhappy households. Depending on your relationship with him (I.e. if it’s platonic) he kind of adopts you. He feels like he wasn’t there for you then but he can be here for you now.

Haldir

Haldir’s hard for me to place. On the one hand, as a border guard he has the chance to interact with more humans than a lot of elves on this list. So that should put him towards the top. But I also think he has a rather insular way of thinking. As in his main concerns are for the elves of Lorien and not the travelers he meets which means he might not inquire about their family lives.

Ultimately, I think he is similar to Gil-Galad in the sense that he just doesn’t think about it. If the few men he speaks to on his travels make a reference to a singular parent, he just assumes the other died because he can’t fully wrap his head around the idea that some people have a potentially volatile home life and might only feel close to one parent. Or neither. His immediate assumption is that the reason a human doesn’t mention their parents is because they died. He doesn’t mean for it to be, it just doesn’t cross his mind on its own.

But, he actually talks to you and when you explain to him that no, they stayed married because it was easier to raise you and your siblings that way but they always fought with each other - he is so shocked. His immediate thought is why didn’t they just leave each other, but he tries to puzzle that out on his own. Ultimately, he is very thoughtful about your circumstance and tries to be someone you can vent to when you need it. If your parents are still alive, he offers to accompany you to visit them if you ever need. And he does his best to secure you a safe place in Lorien should you need it.

Glorfindel

Glorfindel is a great elven warrior able to face many things and take down balrogs. He has no idea that childhood can be one of the most challenging parts of life. And I mean that sincerely. Glorfindel is rather oblivious to the affairs of men prior to his fall. His concerns are Gondolin and the safety of his people.

Now he was alive for the kinslaying, so he is not a stranger to violence against kin. But he thinks that the bond between parents and child is almost sacred and not something easily broken. He is sad when you tell him that the children of men are excluded from the idyllic home life guaranteed to the elves.

But he’s also impressed by you. You’re a good, kind-hearted person despite the tension you grew up in. And he thinks that is something to be admired. He devotes himself to helping establish safe homes for children who grew up like you, especially post-fall and him being sent back to middle earth. And he holds up his promise long after you have perished - committing the house of the golden flower to be a symbol of safe haven.

Tauriel

So, Tauriel, I think is the most understanding of the Woodland elves - she’s a guard, she patrols, I have a feeling she comes into contact with the people of Laketown regularly enough to have experienced a variety of family dynamics.

But she doesn’t expect you to have grown up in a household like that. I think because of Laketown’s apparent poverty post the fall of Dale there is a noticeable uptake in crime. And, unfortunately a lot of crime comes from the broken homes of Laketown - youth acting out to escape their parents bickering, parents causing distress to their children and partners, things like that. I think, subconsciously, she associates unhappy homes with unhappy people.

But you don’t fit the way she thinks. You’re sweet and caring and she feels the weight of cognitive dissonance like a shackle. It takes her awhile to reconcile her view of you but she does her best not to let you see. And she’s decently good at it until she starts asking questions. But she listens carefully and starts to look for warning signs in the people of Laketown that they may need help. She petitions Legolas to speak to his farther to offer refuge to those in Laketown that may need it and asks the dwarves of Erebor to do the same.

Thranduil

Thranduil, I think, suffers from some of the most insular thinking on this list. He focuses on the affairs of his elves and pays no mind to the problems of men. It’s how he’s kept his people safe.

Now, I personally, think Oropher was not the kindest father. I think he was stern and hard to please because he expected the best of himself and his people. So, this affects Thranduil’s perspective on parents quite a bit. He may feel that he was unloved at times but he can attest that his father loved his mother even if he was not good at displaying it. His views are skewed to say the least. So he thinks you’re exaggerating at first.

If two people hated each other as much as you claim, why would they have a child together? Let alone stay together to raise that child?

It takes a lot of explaining for him to realize exactly what you grew up in. And when he does, he feels awful for not believing you. He’s not the best at apologies but he tries to make up for it by extending his services to Laketown. He does eventually find it within himself to apologize to you, directly. And asks that you help him understand.

Legolas

He is gobsmacked. Genuinely, so shocked. I firmly believe that Legolas is one of the youngest elves on this list and as a result he still has some maturing and learning to do.

If this is during the fellowship, he has to ask Boromir and Aragorn if you’re telling the truth - that two people can stay together whilst hating each other. And that it’s common amongst humans. He then gets to learn about Boromir’s childhood as well.

His heart breaks a little. He wants only the best for the people he cares about so he’s saddened and angry to hear the pain in your voice even if it. Is well hidden. He promises, as your friend, to never let you be reminded of your family’s pain. It’s a naive promise but one he means full heartedly.

Note 3: thank you so much for this request, it was a much needed break from King’s Herald and actually helped me solve a plot hole I got into. And thank you for the kind words, I’ve been worried my writing’s gotten stale but hearing that people enjoy it helps me to work out of those funks. Thank you so much.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

I usually have slightly different headcanons for each elf but I feel like this is one that applies to every Tolkien elf.

They absolutely freak out every time their human partner is on their periods. Elf women do get periods but they’re not as often, heavy or painful.

Even if your periods aren’t that painful or heavy, the slightest mention of fatigue, blood, cramp or nausea and they are carrying you back to bed. Good luck doing absolutely anything because they won’t let you.

“I can make my own cup of tea.”

“Nope. Too sweet and delicate, must protect you.”

Carries you to bed and returns like 5 minutes later with every blanket, heat pack, tea and sweet they can find.

It’s so stressful for them but they mean well 😅

[mints-bizarre-posts]

Incorrect Quotes #128

Y/n : How do I make a date really romantic?

Erestor : Be mysterious

Y/n : Okay!

*later, while on a date with Glorfindel*

Glorfindel: So where are we going?

Y/n : None of your fucking business

[sh1-n0bu]

saw the simpsons meme and i just KNOW that a certain elf would be the type to joke like it

legolas or glorfindel, turning to their human s/o with drooped ears, holding up a paper: “are you 🍃ing me?”

[name], said human s/o, used to their dramatic ways: no, i’m not leaving you. we’re staying married until we die or set sail to valinor

legolas or glorfindel, quickly scribbling on the back of the paper before showing it to [name] with wiggling ears: “what a re🍃”

[earthlybeam]

As I promised, the other elves version here! I hope you all enjoy it to the fullest. ☺️ Wishing everyone a wonderful day or a peaceful night, wherever you are. Take care and make the most of every moment! ❤️‍🔥🫶✨

Celebrimbor, Glorfindel, Haldir, Lindir versions below.

💍𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓶𝓫𝓸𝓻

The morning light spilled across the stonework of Celebrimbor’s private balcony, a soft golden glow that danced over the polished railings and the scattered tools left from last night’s work. Beyond the edge of Eregion, the Misty Mountains loomed in the distance, wreathed in a gentle haze. A cup of tea rested in his hands, steam curling lazily into the crisp morning air as he took slow, measured sips.

You stepped outside, the scent of metal and embers lingering faintly in the air—his forge was never far from him. Dressed in his usual elegant but practical tunic, Celebrimbor stood tall, silver-threaded dark hair catching in the light. He had been up for hours already, no doubt lost in thought over some new project, but as you approached, his expression softened.

“Good morning,” he greeted, setting his tea aside just in time for you to wrap your arms around him. He huffed out a quiet laugh, surprised but not unwelcoming. His embrace was firm yet careful, a silent acknowledgment of how much he enjoyed this. You hadn’t meant to linger too long, but as soon as your face brushed against his shoulder, his scent filled your lungs—warm like sun-heated parchment, the faintest trace of cedarwood and something metallic, likely from the forge. It was grounding, familiar, and so distinctly him.

He began to pull away slightly, but you hesitated. Instead of letting go, you pressed back in, burying your face against his neck with an exaggerated inhale—one sniff, then another, deeper this time. Celebrimbor stiffened slightly. “What—?” Another sniff. A little louder this time. You let out a small, contented sigh. “Ohhh, you smell so good.”

His entire body went rigid, and then—color. A deep flush creeping up the tips of his pointed ears, traveling down his neck. “I—Meleth!” His voice wavered, entirely caught off guard, his hands briefly hovering in place as if unsure whether to hold you closer or to pry you off.

You sniffed again, more dramatically, making a show of practically melting into him. “Why do you smell this good? It’s unfair.” Celebrimbor exhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against your back. “Is—” He cleared his throat. “Is this a normal greeting for you, or should I be worried?” You peeked up at him, cheek still pressed against his shoulder, utterly delighted at his rare display of flustered confusion. “I dunno, maybe you just smell extra nice today.”

Poor Celebrimbor looked torn between amusement and sheer mortification. He was accustomed to admiration for his craft, for his skill, but being openly appreciated like this? By you? He didn’t know how to handle it. “I—I do bathe regularly,” he muttered, trying to compose himself, but his voice cracked ever so slightly.

You grinned, taking one final, obnoxiously loud inhale for good measure. “Mmmm. Sure hope you do, it’s Perfection.” He groaned, pressing a hand over his face, but you caught the small, helpless smile tugging at his lips. “Valar help me,” he mumbled under his breath, but his arms remained wrapped around you all the same.

☀️𝓖𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓵

The sun was beginning to set, draping Imladris in a golden glow as you walked toward the training grounds. The scent of grass, warmed stone, and crisp evening air filled your senses, but none of it compared to what you were truly after—the distinct, familiar scent of him. Glorfindel stood near the racks of practice swords, wiping the sweat from his brow with a cloth. His golden hair, slightly tousled from sparring, shimmered under the fading light. His tunic clung slightly to his frame, proof of a hard-fought session, and the fresh scent of clean sweat mixed with something distinctly him—a deep, grounding blend of pine, leather, and a warmth that was uniquely Glorfindel.

The moment he saw you, his entire expression softened. His eyes—bright and full of warmth—lit up as he approached, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Meleth nîn,” he greeted you, his voice carrying the slight breathlessness of exertion. Without hesitation, he pulled you into a firm embrace, his strong arms wrapping securely around you. The hug was warm, enveloping, safe. You buried yourself into his chest, feeling the lingering heat from his workout. But then—you caught it. That scent. You inhaled once, deeply. Oh.

It was intoxicating, grounding yet heady. Your fingers gripped the fabric of his tunic just slightly, savoring it, letting the scent of him wash over your senses. But just as Glorfindel began to ease back from the hug, you weren’t done. Before he could fully withdraw, you leaned in again, pressing your nose to the crook of his neck, drawing in another deep inhale—this time harder, like you were melting into it. Glorfindel froze. You felt his muscles tense slightly in surprise before he let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “Oh?” His voice dipped into amused curiosity. But you weren’t finished. Another sniff. Deeper. As if committing his scent to memory.

Glorfindel’s laughter rumbled in his chest this time, golden and warm. “Meleth, what are you doing?” His tone was playful, but you could hear the undercurrent of sheer delight. You mumbled against his shoulder, your words muffled, “You just—smell so good.” That was it. He laughed again, a rich, joyous sound, as his arms tightened around you in response. He dipped his head slightly, his breath brushing against your temple as he leaned into the hug once more instead of pulling away.

“Do I?” He mused, teasing. “I suppose I should train more often if it earns me this kind of welcome.” A hint of smugness laced his words, but beneath it was unmistakable affection. His large hand came up to cradle the back of your head, allowing you to breathe him in as long as you wanted. And when you finally pulled back, a little dazed, a little blissed out, he smirked and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Remind me to spar every day, then,” he murmured, utterly pleased with himself.

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

Haldir had just returned from his patrol, the last golden hues of the sun slipping beneath the boughs of Lothlórien, casting the trees in soft twilight. His steps were measured, composed as always, but there was a quiet ease in his posture—his duty for the day was complete, and now he could rest. As he approached, his keen eyes softened ever so slightly at the sight of you waiting for him.

You met him with a warm embrace, stepping into his arms without hesitation. His body was firm, strong from years of discipline, but the way his arms encircled you was deliberate, careful—protective. The faint scent of the forest clung to him, mixed with something inherently Haldir—a crisp, clean scent like rain on ancient wood, tinged with the faintest trace of the elven oils used to care for his armor and weapons. As he moved to pull away, you hesitated for just a moment, your head tilting slightly. Then, instinct took over. You leaned back in, pressing your face lightly to the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. Oh.

The scent was intoxicating—earthy yet ethereal, familiar yet utterly irresistible. Your first breath was slow and savoring, but the second… oh, the second was deeper, hungrier, a slow, deliberate inhale that sent a delightful shiver through your spine. You let out a small, pleased hum, utterly melting into him.

Haldir, still holding you, stiffened ever so slightly. His hands, resting at your back, faltered for the briefest moment as his mind registered exactly what you were doing. He was not unused to your affection, but this… “…Meleth nín,” he murmured, his voice carrying both amusement and wary confusion. “Are you… scenting me?” You didn’t respond immediately—too lost in the moment, nuzzling just slightly closer to take in another breath. His warmth, his presence, the way his scent wrapped around you—it was overwhelming in the best possible way.

Haldir exhaled slowly through his nose, his grip on you tightening, though whether in mild embarrassment or something else entirely, you weren’t sure. “You are lingering,” he noted dryly, though his tone betrayed no real protest. His hands found your waist, and his thumb absently traced a slow circle against your back—a silent indulgence, despite his perplexed reaction.

You finally pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your lips curved in a pleased smile. “You smell incredible.” For the first time in a long while, Haldir looked momentarily caught off guard. He blinked, tilting his head slightly as if to process your words. Then, in an almost imperceptible movement, his lips twitched. “Do I?” You nodded enthusiastically. “Like the forest after the rain… and something else. Something… you.”

Haldir let out a quiet chuckle, a rare, fleeting sound. “You are fortunate no others are here to witness this.” You raised a brow. “Oh? Would your fellow wardens find this amusing?” He exhaled through his nose, the faintest smirk ghosting across his lips. “They would find me amusing.” His fingers curled slightly against your waist. “And I cannot allow that.” You grinned, leaning in once more—not for another deep inhale this time, but to press a soft kiss against the curve of his jaw. “Then it shall be our secret.”

Haldir hummed, his arms subtly tightening around you, as if weighing the idea of letting you go just yet. Eventually, he exhaled, lowering his forehead briefly against yours before murmuring, “Very well. But be warned, meleth nín… I will remember this.” And with that, the mighty Marchwarden of Lórien—stoic, disciplined, ever-composed—allowed himself the smallest moment of indulgence, leaning just slightly into your embrace, letting the warmth of you settle into him like the hush of twilight over the Golden Wood.

🎻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓻

Lindir had been carefully organizing a collection of books in Elrond’s library, his fingers gliding along the spines with practiced precision. The scent of parchment, aged ink, and the faint lingering of herbal tea from earlier clung to the air. It was peaceful, quiet—the way he preferred it—until he heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind him. He barely had time to react before you wrapped your arms around him in a greeting hug, your warmth pressing against his back. Lindir tensed at first, startled, but quickly exhaled, relaxing into your embrace. He always did when it was you.

“Ah—m-meleth,” he murmured softly, the tips of his ears already tinged with pink. His voice was always composed, even when his heart wasn’t. “You startled me.” You hummed in amusement, your head resting against his shoulder. “Couldn’t help it,” you admitted. “You looked too huggable.” Lindir let out a quiet chuckle, his hands hovering uncertainly before gently resting atop yours. He wasn’t one for grand displays of affection in public—or even in private, really—but he cherished these moments, small as they were.

Then, just as he was about to step away, you moved. Your nose brushed against the side of his neck, your breath warm against his skin as you took in a deep inhale. Lindir froze. His entire body went rigid, fingers gripping the edges of the book he was holding as if it were his only lifeline. You didn’t stop there—no, you leaned in again, this time inhaling deeper, as if completely melting from the scent of him. By the Valar. Lindir’s breath hitched audibly, his entire face blooming into a shade of red so deep it rivaled the sunset over Imladris. “W-What are you doing?!” His voice cracked, utterly scandalized.

“You smell so good,” you sighed, completely unbothered, nuzzling closer before giving another, even harder sniff. Lindir’s brain promptly short-circuited. A strangled sound escaped him—something between a gasp and an embarrassed whimper—before he practically bolted out of your hold, spinning on his heel with wide, mortified eyes.

“I—You—Th-That is—” He sputtered, struggling to form coherent words. He took an urgent step back, only to bump into the bookshelf behind him. The books rattled in protest. His entire posture was stiff, hands clutched at his robes as if he could physically anchor himself to dignity. You, on the other hand, just grinned. “What?” you teased, tilting your head. “I like your scent.” Lindir made a sound that could only be described as an overwhelmed squeak. His hand flew to his face, covering his mouth as if that would somehow help suppress the furious blush overtaking him. His heart was pounding.

Elbereth, how was he supposed to function after that? “You cannot—cannot just—sniff me like that in public!” he stammered, voice a strangled whisper as if afraid someone might overhear. “I am working! This is a library! There are rules!” You just leaned in slightly, mischief dancing in your eyes. “So… I can do it when we’re not in public?”

Lindir visibly malfunctioned. His pointy ears twitched. His lips parted in stunned horror. His soul nearly left his body. “I—” He looked as if he was about to combust, his face buried behind both hands now, but the way his shoulders trembled told you he was suppressing the urge to flee. It was adorable. You couldn’t help but laugh, reaching forward to gently pry his hands from his face. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave,” you conceded, amusement still dancing in your expression. “But you do smell amazing, just so you know.”

Lindir swallowed thickly, looking absolutely wrecked by your words. He exhaled, still pink-faced, but his lips twitched into something shy, hesitant. “…You are utterly incorrigible,” he muttered, shaking his head as he turned back to his task—though his hands were still visibly shaking. And yet, as you watched him fluster about, you didn’t miss the way his ears remained red for the rest of the afternoon.

[agentflowerpot]

You cooked something you wanted them to try it by hand feeding them on a spoon so “hey will you try this for me please?” moves spoon closer to their lips and says “open”

Headcanons: Gil Galad, Celebrimbor, Thranduil, Elrond, Glorfindel, Haldir, Lindir.

This first post I hope anyone whom ever reads this enjoys, I been inspired by @earthlybeam random chaos love your writing so much makes my day ♡

Gil~Galad

You stood before Gil-galad, a small plate of steaming food in hand, the aroma of roasted vegetables and spiced honey filling the air. You had spent a good portion of the afternoon preparing it, perfecting every detail—just the right balance of sweetness and warmth. Now, you felt a spark of excitement, the hope that he’d enjoy it dancing in your chest.

“Gil-galad,” you said, your voice light with anticipation. “I made something special. Will you try it for me?”

He turned to face you, those sharp, piercing eyes of his studying you with a mixture of curiosity and caution. Always the composed king. “What is it?”

“Just a little something,” you replied with a grin, teasing him. “Go ahead, trust me. Open.”

You held out a spoon toward him, the delicate blend of roasted carrots, parsnips, and a drizzle of honey gleaming in the soft light of the room. You could see the slight hesitation in his gaze, though it was only for the briefest of moments.

He raised a brow, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You ask much of me, my friend,” he said in his usual, controlled tone, though there was no real reluctance in his voice.

“Open,” you repeated, your gaze steady but playful as you moved the spoon closer to his lips.

Gil-galad hesitated for a mere heartbeat before finally complying, his lips parting slightly as you guided the spoon to his mouth. He didn’t rush, but took the bite with calm elegance, the High King in him even in the simplest of moments.

His eyes closed for a moment as he chewed, clearly savoring the taste. When he opened them again, they met yours, warm and thoughtful, with a quiet appreciation.

“Well,” he began, a slight smile now forming on his face, “it seems your cooking skills match your ability to challenge me. This is… quite good.”

You grinned, feeling a small triumph surge through you. “I’m glad you think so.”

Gil-galad didn’t speak again, but there was something in his expression—something akin to soft amusement—that made your heart flutter. He had been the ever-dignified ruler, but in this moment, you could see a different side of him, a side that only you would know: the quiet joy of something simple, something shared.

“More?” you offered, your tone teasing.

His smile deepened ever so slightly. “Only if you insist.”

You could hardly keep the grin off your face as you moved to feed him another bite, this time feeling the weight of his gaze on you more than ever.

Celebrimbor

You stood in the kitchen, carefully placing the last spoonful of a delicate dish you’d spent hours perfecting—honey-glazed figs stuffed with creamy goat cheese and roasted almonds. The aroma was tantalizing, rich and sweet with a hint of warmth from the oven. You were excited, eager to share the fruits of your labor with Celebrimbor, who was lingering nearby, seemingly lost in his thoughts as he inspected one of his many crafted items.

“Celebrimbor,” you called, your voice light with anticipation. His head tilted up at the sound of your voice, those amber eyes momentarily shifting from the mithril work in his hands to you. He smiled, though the slight furrow between his brows suggested he was still thinking through something—likely a design flaw or a new idea for his next project.

“Yes?” he replied, his tone soft but curious.

“I made something,” you said with a mischievous grin, stepping forward with a small plate in hand, carefully holding the figs on a silver dish. “I know how much you appreciate fine craftsmanship, so I thought I’d offer you a taste of mine.”

You took a step closer, the plate balanced gently in your hands as you met his gaze. “Will you try this for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking in a way that suggested his interest was piqued, though his expression remained mostly neutral. “For you?” he asked, his voice low with a hint of amusement. “I suppose I could be persuaded.”

Grinning wider, you leaned in slightly, taking one of the figs on the spoon and moving it towards his lips with exaggerated care. “Open,” you said, a playful note in your voice as you held the spoon just inches away from his mouth.

Celebrimbor blinked, a moment of hesitation flickering across his face. He’d spent a lifetime surrounded by the finest artisans and craftsmen, but this—this was different. There was a tenderness in your gesture that made him pause, just for a second, before his lips parted and he allowed you to feed him.

The bite was small, delicate, and as he tasted it, his expression shifted from mild curiosity to something warmer, something softer. His eyes closed for a brief moment, savoring the flavor.

“It is…” He opened his eyes, fixing you with an expression that was part surprise, part admiration. “Delightful,” he said, his voice thoughtful, the corners of his lips twitching with a restrained smile. “You’ve a talent for this, as well.”

You couldn’t help but grin, pleased with the reaction. “You don’t have to be so formal, Celebrimbor. You can say it’s fantastic if you want.”

He chuckled quietly, the sound rich and warm. “Perhaps you’ll hear that from me when I’ve had more. One is hardly enough to judge.”

You nodded, offering him another bite, this time bringing the spoon closer and meeting his gaze with a teasing gleam. “I suppose I’ll have to make more then. Wouldn’t want to leave you hanging with just one taste.”

He didn’t fight you this time, and though he maintained his usual air of dignity, there was an undeniable warmth in the way he accepted the next spoonful.

“You’re quite the temptation,” he murmured, a quiet but genuine note of affection in his words. “I must confess, I’ve rarely been so distracted from my work.”

A satisfied smile curled on your lips as you watched him, both pleased with the food and the response it garnered. It was rare for him to show such vulnerability, and it made every moment you shared feel all the more precious.

Thranduil

You watched Thranduil with quiet anticipation as you held out the spoon in front of him, a small, delicate spoonful of honeyed pears glistening in the soft light of the evening. The sweet fragrance of the fruit and spices seemed to hang in the air, almost teasing his senses. You had spent hours preparing this dish, carefully infusing the pears with a blend of forest herbs that you’d hoped would appeal to his refined tastes.

“Your Majesty,” you began, voice a touch playful. “Would you do me the honor of trying something I made?”

Thranduil’s gaze shifted from the fire, sharp and calculating, as though he were weighing your words against the silence of the forest that surrounded his kingdom. His eyes, as cold and green as the ancient woods he ruled, bore into you, but for a moment, you swore you saw a glint of curiosity in them.

You took a step closer, the spoon moving ever so slightly toward his lips. His posture didn’t change—proud, composed, and regal as always—but there was something in the air now, a shift, as if he was waiting for something from you. A challenge, perhaps.

“Try it,” you urged again, smiling mischievously, “I promise it won’t bite.”

A low, almost imperceptible hum vibrated in his chest, his fingers tightening slightly around the armrest of his chair, but he didn’t speak for a moment. Thranduil’s lips parted ever so slightly, eyes narrowing in that regal, almost imperious way of his. Still, his gaze lingered on the spoon.

“Open,” you said again, voice quiet but confident.

He hesitated, just for a second, as if considering whether to indulge you, but then, ever so slowly, he leaned forward. His lips parted just enough to accept the bite, and you watched him as you fed him the honeyed pears.

The moment the fruit touched his tongue, a soft sigh escaped his lips—one that was nearly inaudible, but you heard it all the same. Thranduil’s eyes fluttered closed for just a second, as though savoring the taste. When they opened again, you saw something akin to surprise flicker in their depths.

“…This is…unexpected,” he murmured, and for a fleeting moment, his usual arrogance seemed to soften.

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “Unexpected in a good way, I hope?”

A small, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice lowering just slightly. “It would be rude to say otherwise, wouldn’t it?”

You leaned in a little closer, offering him another spoonful, your gaze locked with his. Thranduil’s expression remained unreadable, but there was something in his eyes now, something that made you think you had won a small victory in his unyielding kingdom.

“Well,” you said, raising an eyebrow, “I’m glad to hear that.”

For a brief moment, Thranduil seemed to be lost in thought, a rare thing for him, before he met your gaze again, his lips twitching slightly. “Do not mistake me,” he said, his voice regaining its usual, regal tone. “I am still not accustomed to being fed like some pet.”

You chuckled lightly. “Oh, I’m certain the great Elven King can tolerate a little bit of indulgence.”

He only raised an eyebrow in response, as though silently challenging your audacity, but you noticed that he didn’t pull away. In fact, his fingers brushed the edge of your hand for a fraction of a second, the faintest hint of contact—brief, but deliberate.

It was enough for you to know that, despite his aloof demeanor, something about your small act of defiance, your playful challenge, had softened the armor around him—if only for a moment.

“Perhaps,” he said quietly, “you may do this again. But only if I deem it worthy.”

You grinned, knowing that this, at least, was a victory you’d savor. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Elrond

You stood in front of Elrond, a small plate of carefully prepared elvish honey cakes in your hands, the soft aroma filling the air. You were quite proud of the delicate treat you had made, the perfect balance of sweetness and texture that you hoped would please his refined tastes.

“Lord Elrond,” you said, a playful gleam in your eye, “will you try this for me, please?”

He looked up from his work, his piercing grey eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. His composed, noble demeanor never faltered, but there was a faint lift at the corner of his lips, a sign that he was accustomed to your antics.

His brow arched ever so slightly, but he said nothing as you held up the spoon, the golden cake perched delicately upon it.

You moved the spoon closer to his lips and smiled, “Open.”

Elrond’s eyes flickered to the spoon, then back to you, his gaze sharp and steady. There was an almost imperceptible pause before he slowly parted his lips, allowing you to feed him. As he tasted the cake, you watched closely for any hint of approval.

The sweetness lingered on his tongue, and for a moment, you wondered if he would give you the satisfaction of a compliment. His eyes softened ever so slightly, though he remained quiet, his usual reticent self.

Finally, after a thoughtful moment, Elrond spoke, his voice low and measured. “It is… pleasing,” he said, the words carefully chosen, his gaze still locked on you. “But I believe the true sweetness lies in your company.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his tone unexpectedly warm. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Well,” you teased, “I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment, Lord Elrond.”

He gave you one of his rare, fleeting smiles—enigmatic and almost imperceptible—but the sincerity behind it was unmistakable. “A rare one, for you,” he added, his voice carrying a hint of affection, though it was wrapped in his usual quiet poise.

You couldn’t resist. “I may need to feed you more often if I’m to hear more of these compliments, my lord.”

Elrond, as always, remained composed, but there was a soft glint in his eyes that made it clear he had appreciated your light-heartedness—if only for a moment.

Glorfindel

You watched as Glorfindel took a seat, the soft glow of the fire casting a warm light on his features. There was something about his presence that made everything seem brighter—his golden hair catching the light, his easy smile, and that warm energy that radiated from him like the sun itself.

“Glorfindel,” you called softly, the dish in front of you nearly ready. “Hey, will you try this for me, please?”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow in curiosity, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “What is it this time? Something I can’t resist?”

You smiled, holding up a spoon of steaming porridge. It wasn’t just any porridge, though—it was a special recipe you’d made, infused with berries, a touch of honey, and a dash of cinnamon. It was rich, comforting, and warm, much like the way Glorfindel made you feel whenever he was near.

“Open,” you said playfully, moving the spoon closer to his lips.

Glorfindel chuckled softly, glancing at the spoon, and then back to you. “Is this some sort of test, my friend? You’ve been known to challenge me before.”

You didn’t answer, just grinned and held the spoon steady.

“Very well,” he sighed dramatically, a mock pout pulling at his lips. “If I must…” And with that, he opened his mouth, letting you feed him the bite.

The moment the flavor hit his tongue, his eyes widened, and for a split second, he looked completely taken aback. “Well, I didn’t expect that,” he murmured, reaching for the spoon with an exaggerated air of seriousness, though his lips were still curved in amusement. “This… this is good. Too good, perhaps. Are you sure you didn’t sneak in a little magic?”

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “A little bit of magic, maybe. But mostly just love… and a lot of honey.”

Glorfindel laughed heartily, his golden laughter ringing through the room like music. “A dish made with affection,” he teased. “How can I refuse?”

“Will you eat the rest?” you asked, handing him the bowl.

“Of course,” he replied, taking the bowl from you. “But I may require a second helping to ensure I am not mistaken about its excellence.” He winked, taking another bite and making an exaggerated hum of appreciation.

Your heart fluttered at the playful moment, the light teasing between you two feeling like something more. “I’m glad you liked it,” you said softly, watching as he polished off the rest of the food with a satisfied sigh.

Glorfindel set the bowl aside and leaned back, his gaze softening. “You are truly a marvel, my friend. Not just with your words, but with your cooking as well. You have my loyalty forever, if only for the meals you provide.”

You grinned. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to keep feeding you, won’t I?”

“Oh, if you insist,” he replied with another laugh, the warmth between you both settling in like a familiar, comforting embrace.

And in that moment, as he smiled at you, you couldn’t help but feel that, yes, this was a kind of magic all its own.

Haldir

You stood in front of Haldir, your excitement bubbling over as you presented the dish you had spent hours perfecting. The warm, sweet scent of roasted root vegetables and spiced honey filled the air, mingling with the slight tang of fresh herbs. You could barely contain your grin as you stirred the concoction one final time in the pot.

“Haldir,” you said, practically bouncing on your toes, “Will you try this for me, please?”

His brows furrowed in suspicion as he looked down at the spoon you were holding out, but he didn’t refuse. The glint in your eyes told him this was a request he could not decline.

You slowly moved the spoon closer to his lips, your voice soft but commanding. “Open.”

He hesitated for only a fraction of a moment before parting his lips, the look in his eyes one of mild curiosity mixed with uncertainty. As the spoon hovered just inches from his mouth, he studied you with a raised brow, a quiet challenge in his gaze.

“Do not make me regret this,” he murmured, though there was a trace of amusement in his tone.

With a grin, you fed him the bite, watching intently as he tasted it. Haldir’s expression remained neutral for a long, agonizing second, and you held your breath. Then, he swallowed, his lips pursing slightly as he considered the flavor.

“It’s… interesting,” he said at last, voice measured but with a hint of something faintly approving. “What is it?”

You were already beaming, pleased that he hadn’t immediately recoiled. “Roasted root vegetables with a honey and herb glaze. It’s a recipe I wanted to try.”

Haldir gave a small, approving nod, his face softening for just a moment as he dipped his head. “Not bad, for a mortal dish.”

“You know, you can say you like it,” you teased, taking the spoon back. “It won’t kill you.”

He gave you a side glance, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Perhaps. But I am still uncertain of this… ‘mortal’ food.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” you laughed, offering him another bite. “Come on, just one more for the sake of science.”

Haldir raised an eyebrow, then sighed. “You will be the death of me,” he muttered, but he allowed you to feed him another bite. His reaction this time was slightly more positive, his lips quirking in a rare, reluctant smile.

“Fine,” he said, leaning back. “I suppose it’s not entirely terrible.”

Lindir

You had spent the afternoon in the kitchen, experimenting with a new recipe that you were sure would impress Lindir. You had crafted a delicate blend of spices and herbs, preparing a savory dish with a hint of sweetness—a roasted root vegetable puree with a dash of honey and rosemary, topped with toasted nuts for a little crunch. It was simple, but you were certain it was perfect.

Lindir was lounging by the fire, absorbed in his lute, the soft hum of the strings filling the room. You watched him for a moment, smiling to yourself, before moving toward him with the spoon, the dish balanced carefully in your hand.

“Hey, will you try this for me, please?” you asked sweetly, already moving the spoon closer to his lips. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the faintest glint of curiosity in his gaze.

“Try what?” he asked, brow furrowed, though he didn’t pull away. You could see the wariness on his face—he knew you well enough to recognize that this was no ordinary request.

“It’s something I made,” you said, teasing him with a grin. “I promise it’s not poisonous.” You hovered the spoon a little closer, maintaining that playful glint in your eyes.

Lindir shifted his weight, sighing dramatically as if he were about to indulge you, though you saw the tiny twitch of a smile on his lips. “Very well,” he said with an exaggerated sigh, leaning slightly forward. “But I expect a full report on what I am about to ingest.”

You smirked. “I’ll consider it an honor. Now, open.”

There was the briefest hesitation before his lips parted, just a fraction, enough for you to slide the spoon inside. As soon as he tasted the puree, his eyebrows shot up, and his eyes widened ever so slightly.

“Well?” you prompted, unable to hide the eager anticipation from your voice.

He chewed thoughtfully, the taste seeming to settle on his tongue as he processed the flavors. For a brief moment, he seemed lost in it, his usual composure slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of surprise.

“Hmm,” he finally said, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, “it’s unexpected. But… not unpleasant.” His voice was laced with amusement, though there was still a note of genuine intrigue beneath his words. “I must admit, you have caught me off guard.”

You leaned in, grinning widely. “Caught you off guard? I’m glad I’m not entirely predictable.”

He rolled his eyes, though the smile that tugged at his lips betrayed his amusement. “You are nothing if not persistent. And insufferable.”

“Oh, come now,” you said, pretending to be wounded. “I just wanted to share something delightful with you.”

Lindir’s eyes narrowed playfully as he tilted his head. “Delightful, indeed. If a little… adventurous.”

“You like it,” you teased, eyes twinkling.

“I did not say that.” He raised an eyebrow, though you could see the faint glint of affection in his gaze, despite his usually cool demeanor. “But I will give you credit. You do have a talent for surprises.”

“Not just a talent,” you shot back. “I have a gift.”

“Hmm,” he murmured, clearly humoring you, though there was no denying the fondness in his voice as he continued to watch you with a mixture of bemusement and quiet admiration.

[lamemaster]

Things the Silmarillion elves find adorable about a human reader

After surveying the recurring elves of this blog, here are seven things they find adorable about humans:

Waving Greeting

Maedhros froze the first time you did it. Across the military camp, you excitedly waved at him. Raising your arm high, you waved, smiling broadly, and your elf froze in his path. For a fleeting moment, he thought it must be someone else you were so happy to greet. But no. It was him. With unpracticed-stiff movements, he raised his own arm and waved back. He watched as laughter bubbled out of you, and you ran to him, leaving him utterly dumbfounded yet his heart leaping out of his chest.

Baggy Clothing

Glorfindel tries not to stare, but by Elbereth, it is hard. Drowning in his robes, you look utterly adorable. The way the sleeves flow down your arms, completely covering your hands, and how the fabric pools around your feet, it’s enough to make him squeal. He worries briefly that you might trip, but for now, he’s too busy enjoying the sight. Picking you up in his arms, he resists the urge to squeeze you, mindful of the last time he tried and how poorly that ended for him. Still, his heart aches at how endearing you look, swallowed by the robes that were never quite meant for you.

Breathless Laughter

The entire palace can hear it. Yet this does not stop the subtle smile it puts on everyone’s face. Sitting across from you, Finrod watches you wheeze with laughter, clutching your stomach as you fall off your chair. Your face is red, your eyes brimming with tears. “I think I peed a little,” you whisper through giggles as your friend continues laughing uncontrollably. Finrod loves the sight of such unrestrained joy, raw, rugged happiness amid marred lands. How wonderful it must be, he thinks, to express joy so freely.

Apologizing to Inanimate Objects

It’s not the first time Maeglin has seen you do this. Bumping into a corner, you mutter a quick “Sorry,” rubbing your arm as though the object could feel pain. Wooden crates, rocks, curtains, tables, nothing escapes your apologies, and Maeglin secretly adores it. It’s such an absentminded habit, and yet it speaks volumes about your nature. There is, however, one exception: when you stub your toe on something. Then, your mouth lets loose with the vocabulary of a seasoned sailor. Much to his dismay (and secret delight), Maeglin finds even this utterly endearing. But there’s absolutely no way he’s telling you that. He keeps that fondness locked away where you’ll never uncover it.

Love for Blankets

Fingon has trekked across the Helcaraxe. He knows the cold and understands the precious value of warmth. Yet, his appreciation pales in comparison to yours. He absolutely loves your ritual of joy at the sight of your bed. The way you jump into your blankets, rubbing your feet together, scrunching your eyes shut, and giggling. It’s a sight he never tires of. On nights when he gets to witness this, Fingon even mimics your antics, despite not feeling the cold himself. He delights in how you grin and snuggle into him, often followed by your sneaky attempt to press your freezing feet against his. Though he feigns annoyance, he treasures every moment of it.

Physical Touch

Beleg smiles broadly the moment you enter a room. Without fail, your eyes scan the space until they find him, and then you make your way over to sit beside him. Every. Single. Time.

He loves how humans gravitate toward physical closeness, finding contentment in proximity alone. Unlike elves, who feel bonds through senses, heartbeats, or thoughts, you seek him out with pure will. Every time you do, Beleg can’t help but put his arms around you, squeezing you in a way he’s seen you do to him. And when you hum contentedly, he melts just a little more.

Baby Voice

Celegorm can’t help but laugh at the way your voice softens when you bend down to pet Huan. Every time you see the hound, you greet him with exaggerated enthusiasm, “Who’s a goob boy?” Celegorm has, on several occasions, reminded you that Huan is older than your grandfather, older than your entire kind, in fact. Yet this knowledge hasn’t dimmed your excitement one bit. Your bubbly tone, the kisses on Huan’s paws, the endless stream of pets, Celegorm finds it both amusing and endearing. Much to your credit, Huan is completely putty in your hands.

[mur4sak1]

How would elves behave during an argument?

A/N: Remember that English is not my first language so I hope I wrote in the best way <3

Characters: Rog, Galdor, Glorfindel, Maedhros, Legolas (bonus)

Rog: guys, this elf would be really scary. Contrary to what you might think, he would lose his temper very easily; he works all day in the darkness of the forges and when he leaves he just wants to have a good rest, so further stress from an argument would drive him out of his mind. He's the typical person who screams without thinking twice and says things he doesn't mean in anger. His way would destroy you every time, making you burst into tears from how bad he made you feel... but as soon as he saw a small tear running down your face he fell silent, forgetting everything that was happening; Was it him who made you like this? He was making the only person who loved him and who had always supported him in his darkest moments cry. He would stay still for some time, with a thousand thoughts in his head when a louder sob from you would bring him back to reality. He would apologize to you but he would do it without meeting your gaze, he is suffering too much for what he did and he wouldn't have the courage to see your destroyed expression. But you knew that he loves you more than anything after all. With difficulty you would get up and hug him as tight as possible, telling him that everything was fine, that you knew he didn't think those things and that you loved him... You couldn't see his face, but a tear fell from his eyes.

Galdor: NOW LET'S ALL GIVE A HUG TO THIS WONDERFUL ELF TOGETHER. He would always try to find a solution peacefully, without discussions and the need to argue, but if this happens you should not fear anything from him. He would NEVER scream, he would NEVER raise his voice, he would NEVER say anything mean to you just to hurt you or win the argument. I mean, it would be fantastic. Maybe due to particular circumstances you would have become so upset that you felt angry against the elf, but in any case he would have spoken to you in a calm and reasonable tone, making you understand that you didn't need to react that way. If the pain brought you to tears, he would hug you and console you like a defenseless child, helping you and trying to get you to vent so that he could fully understand what was troubling you so as to avoid misunderstandings. Galdor would have been able to understand and love you more than anyone else, always.

Glorfindel: It was rare to argue with the blond elf, but sometimes it happened and the situation became quite lively. Glorfindel always tried to keep his problems to himself and not involve others because he was convinced that difficult moments should only be faced with those you love. Furthermore, he certainly wanted to avoid all that useless gossip that many elves had on any topic that might attract their curiosity. Although his character was often extroverted and playful even in the saddest situations for this reason, when he argued with you it wasn't uncommon to hear shouts and snorts coming from your rooms. They would not be screams that expressed malice, but screams that asked to be listened to; it was natural for him to raise his voice when he wasn't listened to and in that way he expressed all his frustration and the pain that the discussion with you was bringing him. He always acted for your good and feeling attacked made him suffer, he wondered what he was doing wrong, what more did you want from him. But the intense mix of emotions inside him prevented him from acting rationally, forgetting how to express them and focusing only on everything you said. After a long time arguing like this you would have reached the point of being exhausted and progressively raising your voice would have left you breathless. You would stop to breathe for a fraction of seconds, with the certainty that everything would soon start again. But after rubbing your eyes, you looked at your elf's face and saw in him all the pain that he was trying to say to you through his tone of voice; his fists were clodes, his head was bowed, his forehead shiny with sweat and a few blond hairs stuck to it. In an instant you understood everything... You breathed a heavy sigh and quickly approached him to hug him, starting to beg him to forgive you and sobbing heavily between one apology and another... Caught off guard, after a few seconds he relaxed his arms and reciprocated the hug. Finally he let himself go to his feelings; he rested his head on your head and the wet of sweat combined with the wetness of a few tears. So he was able to express everything he felt and only at that point would you be able to clarify and return to being happy and in love as always "I just want to always be perfect for you".

Maedhros: I'm sure fights with the red-head would be very peaceful. Having grown up in a large family and in the role of an older brother, he had developed a lot of patience thanks to which he could easily handle any type of conflict with you. Contrary to what many might think, after Angbad Mae would not have vented the pain on you with shouts and insults, but quite the opposite. After the terrible torture he suffered, the only thing he wanted was to feel accepted and in you he found his salvation; in all the darkest moments where his mind couldn't differentiate reality from dreams you were there by his side to help him, without ever making him feel wrong and making him understand how strong he was to have overcome such a trauma. For this reason, he would feel like a terrible elf during arguments. He only wanted to offer you the support that you represented to him every day but instead he felt more like a burden to you. This would make him cry a lot, but in silence and alone, because he feared that with every little clash you would abandon him. He just needed time, time to understand that you would never, ever abandon him; you always told him that you loved him more than anyone else and that he needed your support to be able to return to the sweet, confident elf he once was, and you would do anything to help him. Needless to say, every time the arguments were resolved without even face them... there was too much love that bound your hearts to ruin it for superficial reasons.

BONUS. Legolas: So, I honestly see Legolas as the kind of elf who would be capable of walking away during an argument. Perhaps due to stress, lack of patience or lack of desire for confrontation, he could stop the conversation, pick up and leave the place where you were. But in reality his behavior would be the solution to the problem. In fact, the much anger that you had accumulated would have faded with distance and the passage of time and would have made both of you understand how much you cared for each other. Solitude would have helped Legolas to think clearly about the problem and find a possible solution to make them both happy. When you met again you would have made peace, both apologizing for your abrupt ways and organizing something to spend the evening together.

[doodle-pops]

Spell Your Name with Your Tongue

Characters: Maglor, Celegorm, Finarfin, Finrod, Glorfindel, Egalmoth, Beleg

A/N: Basically headcanons on how they go down on you, not that any of you mind :). I had this in my drafts two years ago, and I need to get it out.

Warnings: smut, female reader, cunnilingus, mention of wanting to be impregnated, overstimulation, marathon sex, making you beg, facesitting

Masterlist | Navigation

જ⁀➴Maglor

He eats you out for his pleasure and for yours; gravitates towards his pleasure because he loves the sounds you make. It’s one of the other times you get to see him become aggressive, and he doesn’t mind having to tie you down to the bed to keep you from squirming about the place.

As much as he loves the feeling of your legs suffocating the life out of him, he doesn’t want to spend most of the time fighting you to keep your legs open for him to have a proper taste.

The times when he doesn’t stand much of a chance with tying your legs apart is when you’re sitting on his face, he’ll let you squeeze his head with your thighs. He does have an oral fixation and puts it to ultimate use.

Your legs were wide apart, bound to the bedpost with elven ropes along with your arms and your eyes blindfolded. The only noises heard were the faint shuffling of Maglor’s footsteps on the carpet before you felt two calloused hands gripping your thighs and spreading them wider and the hot breath fanning your cunt. It wasn’t long before you felt his tongue dipping into your heat, licking a bold stripe from bottom to top and then nipping at your clit.

“Ngh—Káno, fuck, fuck,” squealing into the bedroom air as his mouth wrapped itself around your clit and gave firm sucks, Káno hummed in delight at your taste. His tongue slithered effortlessly over your clit and flicked the delicate bud with excellency.

“My dear, if you do not cease your squirming, I’ll tie your legs to the headboard.” His chin and lips were coated in your arousal as he spoke while licking them. You knew that this was the start of a long night before he stole orgasm after orgasm from you and left you crying and shaking mess.  

જ⁀➴Celegorm

This ellon eats you out for his pleasure because he loves your taste and it’s his favourite taste in the entire world. He’s aggressive from start to finish he doesn’t care if he sends you into overstimulation.

If you aren’t crying from the pleasure, he isn’t doing his job right. He spreads your legs apart and buries his face into your heat like a savage animal and stains his face in your arousal.

Celegorm doesn’t have the time to tease you, he just dives right in to have his meal because he’s a messy eater.

“Tyelko, p-please, fuck—” You were biting your lips hard enough to draw blood and probably did already from the way your lover’s tongue was thrusting in and out of your cunt. The grip he had on your thighs prevented you from riding his face because he wanted to be the one delivering all your pleasure. The tears were already staining your face from the endless orgasms he took you through, you weren’t sure which round you were on.

“You have more in you kitten, I know you do, hmm.” The seductive grin he sent your way before dragging your cunt over his mouth, letting your clit bump against his nose force your body to convulse above him.

“P-Please, I-I can’t—no more…” Wailing and pleading for him to ease up because your body was growing tired, he ignored your words and continued to work his tongue deeper into your cunt, wiggling it around and collecting every drop of your essence, refusing to let anything go to waste.

“I’m far from finished, you’re not going away until I say you can.” All you could do was grip his silvery strands and tug them in hopes of lasting through the rest you were about to experience.

જ⁀➴Finarfin

Please, somebody, come get Finarfin life support because he decided he no longer wants to be King and wants to die being suffocated between your legs because it’s the best way to go out. Seriously, this man is tired and when he’s tired, he eats it.

He’ll allow you to ride his face to destress while wearing his crown to remind you that your King is here to serve his Lady. You’re the one person he would get on his knees to serve without question. You’re the one person who he’d forget he’s a King and worship.

Two options: when he’s tried, ride his face, and when he’s not tired, it’s because you’re tired and begging him to stop. It was probably something you did to rile him up and weren’t aware of how ravenous he already was. Poor little bunny getting devoured by a wolf in sheep’s clothing. The dominancy is thriving.

The throne room is empty but by the Gods, it’s loud and filled with the incessantly lewd slurping sounds of your pussy being eaten by your King who’s angelically lying underneath on the polished floor. The crown lopsided on his head and his fingers digging into your thighs, leaving behind marks only visible to his eyes when he undresses you tonight, he pushes his face deeper. Any moment now, someone, anyone would barge in demanding to treat with the High King to witness him being suffocated happily by your cunt.

Your attempts at rising off his face were shut down by a firm tug and a grunt. His blue eyes flashed upwards in annoyance, giving you the unspoken rule of thumb—denying your pleasure got you punished, plus, he was stressed, just let him indulge in bliss.

“My King,” you moaned and raked your fingers through his golden curls, pushing his crown completely off, “we’re going to be caught. We can continue this elsewhere…ngghh.”

Displeasure spirals across his face at your suggestion. He didn’t desire to move elsewhere when he was already enjoying his meal here in the comforts of this space. Fighting the urge to pull away, he dragged his lips off your clit and warned, “As much as you are my Queen and I’d do anything, you do not command me for something like this. I will finish when it pleases me.”

જ⁀➴Finrod

He looks so innocent when he smiles and tells you that he wants to be between your legs but oh my fucking god, when Finrod starts, he doesn’t like to stop. It’s almost as if he’s drunk off of your cunt.

Eating you out is by far his favourite sexual activity, and he spends a copious time self-indulging, though, he is generous about his mercies and ensures that you receive equal pleasure while praising you.

Finrod does have an oral fixation which makes his desire to have his face buried between your legs greater. He can spend an hour (because you almost passed out) giving you all the pleasure in the world.

The crown sat on your King’s head but crooked from the angle he positioned himself. Lying under you with your cunt hovering mere inches from his lips—already glistening with your arousal from earlier; his hot breath fanned your clit making you shiver in anticipation. There was an innocent, lopsided smirk on his face followed by a dazed look in his eyes as his finger trailed through your folds, collecting your arousal and slipped into his mouth.

“…come, sit yourself on your throne meleth, I’m far from finished with you,” he hummed as his hands tugged your cunt to rest against his mouth. Your cried permeated the room along with breathless sighs and pleads for him to not stop.

“Fuck, please, p-please, oh—humph.” Your King was on a mission to drain every last drop you had to offer him. He was craving you all day, thought of your taste on his mind and now he was fulfilling his wishes.

“Taste so good nîn loth, go ahead and cum all over my face, I still want more.” His firmness was heavy and firm as he ground your cunt over his mouth, loving the way your body just keep producing more juices for him to consume.

જ⁀➴Glorfindel

A fucking tease that shows no mercy and loves to hear you beg because it fuels his ego and eggs him on to bring you to another orgasm. With Glorfindel, it’s always ‘just one more love, can you do that for me please’ and then he makes you cum five times back-to-back with little to no remorse.

The fucking grin he sends your way as if you’re not on the verge of passing out makes you want to rub it off his face. When Glorfindel eats you out, it’s for his pleasure (your pleasure is always included) but he just wants to make you cum and squirt all over him to boost his pride.

The worst is when he forces you to look him in the eye and describe to him exactly how you want to be eaten out—it always leads to you having to beg him because you could never explain yourself.

Your face was already red from the sheer embarrassment of having your superior’s face between your legs, hovering over your most sacred place and now he wanted you to describe to him how you wished to be eaten out. His lips would ghost your folds whenever he was shifting his mouth off the inner of your thighs, placing butterfly kisses and waiting for you to respond. “I’m waiting little one, I know you want this, so might as well tell me,” his hot breath tickled your clit as he spoke directly above your cunt.

One finger was tracing your fold, lightly touching and keeping the pressure light. “Laurë, p-please, just p-please use your tongue…mouth,” your hands covered your face because you couldn’t bear to make eye contact. His eyes bore into your covered ones as he looked on before sighing and dipping his head to meet your cunt. You couldn’t shut your legs around his head like you wished to, instead, his large, calloused hands pushed them to meet your head while his tongue worked magic on your clit.

Spit-slicked and covered, his tongue rang circles making your head spin as the pressure built. Nipping and tugging at your bundle of nerves, he placed all his energy into getting you off and then pulled away at the last minute, “Ah, ah, ah. Not so fast. I haven’t forgotten you princess—you still haven’t told me how you wish to cum…so describe it or I’ll leave.”

જ⁀➴ Egalmoth

Between him Glorfindel and Celegorm I can’t tell who’s the worse because he’s sweet and aggressive at the same time. A fucking devil who means business when it’s time to get down.

He’ll let you do as you please because just wants to have his tongue buried between your legs. Egalmoth will sweet talk you into letting him eat you out and perform the craziest stunts. Always gives a kiss to your clit before he starts because “greetings are important”.

He loves to make you embarrassed and shy and will force you to keep eye contact or he will stop completely. Can and will stop in the middle of sex to eat you out despite your oversensitivity because that means you’ll be able to squirt for him.

Extremely prideful and expects that you praise him while he’s sucking the life out of you, once you do, you can kiss time goodbye because you lose track of it. What round are you on, 4? 5? 8?

The quick flip of your body on the bed and your face is planted into the sweaty sheets with your ass in the air. No warning was given, thinking that Egalmoth was going to take you from behind, but instead, you feel his hot tongue slithering over your cunt before dipping around your entrance to lazily thrust his tongue. You couldn’t escape his torture even when your body screamed at you to run, his hands were fastened to your hips, securing you still.

“Ngh—E-Egalmoth, please, god no more I can’t…” you hiccupped, and he couldn’t be bothered with your pleas. All that mattered was his tongue in your cunt, salvaging all your arousal.

With every jerk of your body away from his mouth, he would tighten his grip on your thighs and push your pussy into his face to be smothered in his as his tongue made figure eights on your clit. His calloused hand would come down to deliver quick rounds of pats to your clit as he pulled his moistened lips away, glistening with your cum. “Of course, you can give me another, I’m far from finished after all.”  

જ⁀➴ Beleg

There’s just something about the hunters and their dominance that just sends anyone crazy in both a good and bad way. Like don’t get me wrong, Beleg over here would let you lead the way until you are incapacitated.

Cradle his head as he kneels before his princess, run your fingers through his silvery hair, give them a few tugs, and guide his mouth to where you want it most. The only thing is that when he settles in and his mouth is attached, you can’t get him off until he decides when it’s right.

Don’t tug, pull or yank his head away; rub his head and cry out his name, that’s all. When he eats pussy, it’s for you, but he’s still in control. Feel me? He decides when enough is enough and if he wants to eat it for hours, deal with it. You can’t tell this man that he isn’t pleasuring you correctly—that’s a punishment right there with silent treatment.

He eats pussy when he’s stressed, happy, hungry, bored, etc. And he loves it when you sit on his face, riding him till thy kingdom come.

Flinging your head into the pillow to suppress another loud moan building in the pit of your throat, your devoted husband listened to your pleas of wanting to have another baby and was passionately at work. It seemed that you had forgotten how indulgent he became when he was serious about committing to an important act. Nothing was ever performed half-heartedly.

Fingers tugging on the gossamer locks buried between your legs and sucking on your clit like some pacifier, you squirmed at the oncoming wave of pleasure building in your hips. From where you lay, his silvery hair was all you would make out and his lips and tongue were feverishly at work. The way his large warrior hands gripped your thighs leaving behind secret imprints as they spread your legs apart wider to give him better access drove you to the brink of insanity.

“Fuck Beleg, are you trying to kill me?! Ease up, ease up…” whining in his ear was the most beautiful music and the only type he wanted to hear. After all, you asked for a baby, and as your husband, it was his duty to fulfil your wish. He needed to prepare your body for taking his release with ease.

Feeling guilty for the overwork he played on your tender cunt, he pulled away with lips coated in your arousal and glanced upwards to meet your closed eyes. “Forgive me, love, I do tend to get cared away. You do taste divine, perhaps I shall treat myself one day without a request.”

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

If you would like to be tagged, click the Taglist link to join

[n0tamused]

How elves deal or even feel jealous? What/how easy is to make them jealous?

A/n: Hello, yes I can! You didn't specify which elves you wanted this for, so I just picked a few of the ones I thought would go nicely with this idea. Also, I am trying these different styles of hcs, so let me know if you prefer lenghtier headcanons or shorter ones like these? I'm trying to find some balance with requests and my ability to write them in time.

Contents: (all separate) Thranduil, Legolas, Lindir, Haldir, Glorfindel x GN! Reader. Jealousy hcs, not proof read lol

⋆𓄃Thranduil

-Thranduil can be quite jealous and, more so, protective over his beloved and he does not care to ever admit it. He is quite avoidant of his subjects and feels a bit shocked (or looks like it, he did expect you to point it out eventually tbh) when you point it out to him

-Would make sliding comments about your attention lingering too long on someone, or even something at times. 

-A play of words is sure to ensue if you keep pressing him for his reasons, and throughout he never raises his voice or anything of that sort, he is rather calm and eventually you come to understand that he is enjoying this, both the banter and the attention. This can be sometimes flustering or frustrating when he begins to smirk and offer sass and teasing words. 

-The Elven king has seldom ever expected to ‘fall into’ love like this, or to behave like this while loving someone, but even through his long years of living he is still learning some things. 

-Thranduil is quite wary of others, especially outsiders even if they are his distant kin. So he may keep you away from meetings or tedious dinners with any delegates or visitors that may seem like ‘too much’ for you to be exposed to them.

-He is stubborn, so chances are it would take a long time for him to let up on his views, as he deems it all necessary for your protection and happiness

-But even he cannot deny that he does carry a great weight on his heart and consciousness, and long, late night conversions are not something rare with him. He enjoys them more than anything else because he feels more justified to be vulnerable when the rest of the world falls asleep. He is more open to physical touch as well, and he tells you his worries and his feelings clearly then. 

🍃Legolas

-The prince of Mirkwood is still quite green in the area of emotions and how one deals with them, despite his years. But he is notably much softer in comparison to his father. 

-He would find it odd that he feels this way and would hide it away from you for the longest time until he can bear it no longer. It is like poison to him

-Although you would be able to see it all happening and coming down on him with the way he stares out at nothing, sometimes at the people besides you, the way his lips pull into a deep carved frown and how his jaw sets, almost uncomfortably, even for an elf - especially for an elf. His shoulders are so tense you can put a table on him

-Once he expresses his feelings to you he does apologize as well, he doesn’t want you thinking that he doesn’t trust you or that he believes you’d go behind his back and take the offer of another heart - he truly can’t explain the feelings and where they stem from.

-It’s multiple things all at once - he wants you safe and happy, and the people around may not have the purest intentions, but at the same time he feels odd that you sometimes seem to be having much more fun with someone else than him. So there’s quite a lot to unpack with him, but he is not impatient or unwilling to learn.

♬Lindir

-Lindir is more prone to fits of jealousy that strike seemingly out of nowhere, he is quite dense with it too although not nearly as secretive as he would like himself to be. He may be quiet, but the face he stays quiet with is a completely different story..

-His jealousy does stem from a sense of insecurity in his own ability to be a good partner for you, it eats away at him at times and he can take up to saying witty responses to the individual/s that he perceives as sources of his feelings. He is never malicious of course, neither to you or them, as he understand these feelings can quickly turn to poison

-He may require some more support from you at times like these, and in private he feels utterly defeated in face of his own jealousy. He is not the one to openly ask for attention from you, but at times like these he may ask you questions that may reassure him again. Hold his face in your hands and just kiss the elf, that would be my advice, plainly delivered 

-He would grow flustered at such actions, and he may even give you some sass for it, but he is never refusing your advances at pouring some more of your love on him 

°˖➴Haldir

-The Marchwarden of Lorien is not the most open when it comes to his own emotions and it can be difficult to read his exact trail of thoughts at times. But jealousy is not foreign to Haldir, he knows how it feels and he has long since come to truly dislike(hate) it.

-It is unbecoming of his station and just of his own character in general. Nonetheless, this jealousy he feels holds its roots in worry for your safety rather than any kind of distrust of you, and it's greatly amplified by the distance between the two of you when he is away on duty. 

-Haldir doesn’t act out on his jealousy, although he makes his opinion known if he agrees or disagrees with you on your choice of companions. If he is at home with you, he would also tag along with you, if you so desired or if he just really, really did not like the company you’re going to be with. He knows nearly everyone in Lorien, and so he knows who to be wary of. That is not to say anyone from there would be a liability when it comes to physical harm, he knows that much is less likely to happen, but when it comes to needs that are more from within, love, need for attention - then he is not so sure. He cannot read the minds of others, and everyone changes over time, even elves. 

-His jealousy does lessen up when he is with you, as he is not as worried when he has you in his eye. If there is danger, Haldir would do whatever was in his power to eradicate the source of it. 

-You may notice this particular mood on him by the stiffness of his jaw and the hard look he sometimes directs at no one in general, as if holding an internal monologue with himself over what he’s experiencing and feeling

☼Glorfindel

-The Slayer of Balrogs is not susceptible to jealousy, and he was never a jealous individual to begin with. And that’s also without mentioning that he trusts his partner as well, otherwise he would not be with someone he did not trust.

-After his re-embodiment he may come off as a little clingy - he stays with you for as long as he can, not letting any moment go to waste, even if you are an immortal being as he is. He leaves kisses on your hands and your forehead when no one is around to see, it is intimate and he simply wants you to know that you will always have his love and support

-He is also very clear in his communication with you, and trusts that you’ll tell him if anything is bothering you, although sometimes he does know to postpone telling you something if he believes it could put a strain on you. 

-He is quite free spirited though and open minded at that, just a chill guy, the chillest on this list I dare say

-All in all.. 10/10, would recommend 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[themerriweathermage]

Modern AU Headcanons: Elves Reacting to You Being Hospitalized

A/N: I went through a life-threatening illness and had to have major surgery and I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to process that, so here I have a modern AU with the elves reacting to their s/o being hospitalized

Elrond

The half-human part of him is very worried and he drops everything when he hears you’ve been hospitalized

Not always able to make heads or tails of modern medicine but understands the severity of the situation

He’s ready to be on your beck and whim the moment you’re stable, and borderline refuses to leave your side

Very mother-hennish

Glorfindel

Bold of you to assume that Glorfindel isn’t glued to your side before anything ever goes wrong

There to hold your hand at all times, to the point that staff have to ask him to leave

Will not leave the hospital until you’re released, and won’t leave your side until he’s confident you are better

Giant glow teddy bear to cuddle with

Lindir

He’s panicked at first receiving the news that you’ve been hospitalized but quickly composes himself so that he can be there for you

Pre-packs a bag of the things he thinks you might need or want to take with him to visit you

Encourages you during recovery, but also listens to you vent

Offers to sing or play his harp to put your mind at ease

Haldir

The severity of the situation isn’t lost on him with his military background, but that’s as far as it goes

Modern medicine is more difficult for him to make sense of, but he’s more interested in knowing what’s wrong so that he can be detailed in his care of you during your recovery

Understands the importance of having things that are familiar to you during your recovery

There for you but also there to field questions from friends and family about your well-being