#gelir x reader

[quillofspirit]

2023 fic recs

If there's one thing to know about me, is that I love to read! and I love to share the good fics, so I figured I would put them all on one list��

pssst! it's my first time doing anything like this, so if you have recommendations for the format, please do leave them in the comments or drop me a message! thanks xx

Key 🍬 fluff 🧯 spicy 🌡️ smut ⛈️ angst 🌪️ all

For people I have tagged, please let me know if there is anything you’d like me to add or remove — like a link to another account. It’ll be my pleasure☺️

Lord of the Rings (and related)

⛈️🧯Fuck the Forbidden pt. 1 by @entishramblings

Boromir x mermaidfem!oc Teens and Up but read the warnings carefully 9,500 words

Now I want mermaids in everything. why aren’t there mermaids in everything? The descriptions are so well done, everything is so vividly easy to visualize, oh I just loved it.

I am so hyped for pt 2!!

🍬⛈️ Healing Touch by @ass-deep-in-demons

Boromir x fem!oc Teens and Up 4,350 words

My film studies degree was very happy about the descriptions of movement in this one - it’s a little specific but hear me out. It’s much easier to see the actors playing the scene when it’s described this well! THAT ENDING, I have to say I joined Legolas, and I don’t have excuses.

I cannot wait to read the rest of the adventures of Joanna!

🍬 I Might Need to Kiss You by @fizzyxcustard

Thorin Oakenshield x fem!reader 400 words

I was squealing, this is so sweet. like the perfect little pick me up when you need a reminder, and Thorin is nothing if not a good king to his subjects 😇

🍬 Sweet Conversations by @glassgulls

Haldir x fem!reader Teens and Up 5,360 words

did I almost break my mouse when I clicked on this? noooo

Would I do it again? approximately 5 times since ☺️

Who doesn’t love sneaking around and kissing pretty elves, especially when they propose the idea so nicely… Just read it, you’re welcome

⛈️🧯Transformed by @sotwk

Thranduil’s son OC x fem!reader Teens and Up 2,400 words

There are at least two werewolves! When I tell you I read it three nights in a row, just to truly catch all the little things that made me go absolutely feral this so lovely to read. Yes, there’s gore (only a little bit) and there’s angst, but there’s also dialogue that would be made into gifs were it a movie.

Pirates of the Caribbeans

🌪️Catch the Wind by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

James Norrington x fem!oc Explicit 418,000 words

101 chapters of epic, pirates, and sweetness. The definition of you will suffer and you will like it. I finished this in like two days, because I couldn’t put it down, like a child on Halloween night going through their whole bag of candy.

⛈️🍬 Fallen Through Time by eriathiel (@esta-elavaris)

Catch the Wind AU Mature Ongoing; 34,000 words

12 Chapters so far, but it’s probably going to make me want to read everything about Theodora again. I am very normal about this character. 😌

Other fandoms

🌡️One of Those days by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x fem!reader Explicit 750 words

Sometimes you need to be taken care of, and sometimes its easier to take care of others.

🍬Patience by @velvetcloxds

Charlie Swan x fem!reader Just straight cuteness 600 words

A cute yet serious conversation with Charlie

🌡️That Takes Trust Darlin by @capricornafterdark

Jason Todd x transmasc!reader Explicit 1,950 words

It takes a lot of trust to tell a person about your desires, and even more when you spend your time catching villains.

🌪️ What Happens After You? by StrengthBeforeWeakness

Ominis Gaunt x fem!oc Mature 219,000 words

A badass Ravenclaw, sweet sweet Garreth, and dark!Sebastian. I am tempted to say it’s almost a Hogwarts Legacy AU because the lore in this fic is so incredible, it feels new again.

These are my headers and dividers, please do not use them.

[errruvande]

King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests. 

Here's to my king!

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.” 

May i just

I hope there will be the second chapter???? we need to know if the potion worked 😭😭😭😭

Transformed (Gelir Thranduilion x femReader )

Fanfic Request from the @fellowshipofthefics's AU-gust Mashup Event

Prompt: Gelir, son of Thranduil (SotWK OC) + Mythical creatures + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Summary: A Mirkwood huntress is attacked by a mythical beast and begins a slow and gradual transformation into a monster herself. Prince Gelir helps her through the frightening ordeal by overseeing her care.

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir I am so thrilled (and relieved) that I was finally able to complete one of your requests! Thank you for being so patient with me, and for giving me a chance to finally write an insert starring one of my OC Thranduilions. (How self-indulgent and exciting!) Love you, darling!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: AU, werewolf lore, romance, angst, mild gore, hidden feelings, oblivious to love

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Mild sensuality, mention of blood and mild horror/violence

To Read on AO3: Link

Transformed

Third Age 1554

Mirkwood

Legends had people believing that werewolves could shift from human to lupine form within a matter of minutes at the strike of the full moon. But legends, merely stories passed down across generations by word of mouth, often got certain details wrong. 

As was the case with you. 

The long iron chains that connected the shackles around your wrists to the wall clinked softly as you raised your loosely bound hands to your face. You brushed your fingers over the coarse hair that covered your neck, its growth making the slow, tedious crawl upward to your jawline, where a soft fuzz had developed overnight. By tomorrow, you would likely wake with your cheeks entirely covered in fur…perhaps among other worse changes. 

Heightened senses had manifested first, long before the physical changes began to show, and so the distinctly heady scents of warm rain and spring grass identified your visitor before he ever stepped through the door. But there was also the fact that hardly anyone else had dared to step foot into the same room as you, ever since your condition was identified. Despite folklore attesting that the mysterious affliction could only be transmitted by a creature’s bite, all the other elves were behaving as though merely breathing in the same air would get them infected. 

You were grateful that Gelir had never behaved very much like all the others. Still, the carefree boldness you had always admired in him now worried you.

“You really must stop coming here,” you mumbled, just barely raising your gaze towards him. He was a Prince of Eryn Galen, yes, and the leader of your company besides. But you had known each other for far too long to put on pretenses with each other. "I could lose control of myself any moment now and hurt you."

"You could try to hurt me," he countered with a smirk. "You would not succeed." He folded his arms over his chest and ran his gaze all over you, his unfailingly keen eyes assessing the physical changes that had occurred since his last visit merely a few hours ago. 

You turned away in a futile attempt to escape his stare. Gelir meant well, and was the only one whose concern for you overrode any instinct for self-preservation, the latter of which he never possessed much of, anyway. But even in your weary sadness and pit of despair you were embarrassed about being seen like this, especially by him. Your childhood friend who had always sauntered around oblivious to how annoyingly, stupidly, breathtakingly handsome he was. 

"I am serious," you said sharply, vaguely conscious of the feral rush of anger in your gut, rising into what sounded like a rumbling snarl in your throat. "I will not be responsible for inflicting this curse on the King's son."

"If hurting me is your main concern when you are the one suffering through all this…" Gelir shook his head, his face suddenly and uncharacteristically somber. "Then you are still very much like yourself and I have nothing to worry about."

You sighed and slumped back down on the edge of the bed. King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests. 

A month into the ordeal and they were still tending to you like a guest, changing your bed linens like clockwork, bringing you water and fresh towels to clean yourself with, dropping off three meals a day along with stacks of books and paper and quills to help you pass the time. 

“You have not eaten all day.” Gelir gestured at the untouched dinner tray on the low table. "Nor did you yesterday. Or the day before that."

“I feel no hunger.”

“You must eat,” he said firmly. “Whatever appeals to you, tell me and I will send for it."

"What point is there? Perhaps starving myself is the best and cleanest way to end this mess."

"The point is I will not have you losing hope while the rest of us hold fast. The healers have not ceased tearing into the creature's corpse for answers. Must I remind you that both Arvellas and my mother are leading the efforts to find a cure?"

Tears sprang to the corners of your eyes. Knowing the royal family was devoting their time to helping you really was what kept you going through the moments of despair and self-pity. But it was hard not to question what made you worthy of such attention, even though the King and Queen were well-known for regarding every subject in their kingdom as family. 

The subtle shift of the firm mattress under his weight drew your thoughts to the fact that he had sat down next to you. On impulse, you shrank away to take back the distance that safely separated you from the elf-prince.

Gelir frowned, and you immediately held up both your hands to remind him of how they had gruesomely mutated over the past week. When you first noticed your fingers begin to stiffen at the joints and curl inward to your palms, until it pained you to fully stretch them, that was the first time you broke down sobbing over your condition. The ugly hair that sprouted at unsightly places all over your body to suffocate your skin had bothered you much less. But your hands-- lithe and strong and skilled with bow and knife and craft--those were your treasures. Now they were malformed and good for nothing except perhaps wanton slaughter, the only possible use for the razor-sharp claws that still continued to grow out of each fingertip. 

"I dare not have you within reach of these, your Highness,” you whispered, steeling your face against the threat of another breakdown. “Please."

Unsurprisingly, Gelir defied your plea. He reached out, and before you could resist--yet did you even attempt to?--one of his strong hands closed around your wrist, and he guided the deformed monstrosity to rest against his open palm. You flinched as the points of the claws touched the prince’s skin. 

"I am no delicate flower," Gelir said loudly. He pushed one of the sharp tips into the flesh of his palm, where it found resistance as hard as stone: a warrior’s hand inherited from his great forebears and strengthened by centuries of  training and battle. "And I can protect myself, even from you, no matter what form you take."

The mere thought of attacking him sickened you, and brought your mind back to that dark cave where you had recklessly given chase to an already dying orc. You had been so focused on revenge, on seeking payment for what the filth had done to your comrade, that you did not detect the more dangerous beast lurking in the deep tunnel until it leapt out at you.

Your struggle with the creature lasted a mere few seconds before an arrowhead burst through its eye, forcing its jaws to release your bloodied forearm. Gelir’s enraged scream echoed dreadfully through the cave as he threw the monster off you and ended it with a single swing of his longknife, nearly cleaving its midsection in half. 

Those images sent a shiver down your entire body. You pulled your hands away to wrap your arms around yourself, and stood up to pace alongside the bed. After a moment of Gelir just sitting there quietly watching you wrestle your anxiety, you stopped to face him and blurt out: 

"And when I become too much of a threat, how will you deal with it then? Will you kill me too?"

“Do you feel an urge to attack me?” Gelir rose slowly, keen green eyes searching your face. “Right now, at this moment? Are you overcome by a desire to rip my throat out?”

You stared at him, so handsome and flawless and immaculate a figure, the dream of many an elf in the kingdom. Such beauty and light was so loathed by the Darkness, that any evil festering within you would surely rise to try and destroy him.

But as you stood within arm’s reach of your friend, close enough to inflict serious damage if violent impulses demand it, all you could feel was the same thing you had felt for him since the day he first made you laugh. When you thought you would never laugh again after the raiding orcs claimed your family’s lives. 

“No,” you finally mumbled. “Not at this moment.”  

“Until then, I forbid you from even imagining me harming a hair on your body.” He caught your gaze and smiled. “Even though you certainly have more of it now than you did before.”

Laughter rang clear from your mouth, and went on so heartily and for so long that it blurred your vision and emptied your lungs. By the time you regained your composure, you noticed that Gelir had remained oddly silent the whole time, and returned to staring at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need to.” He exhaled softly, as an archer might to reduce tension in their body before loosing an arrow. “To remind me of why I must speak up now, and delay no longer.” 

The softness with which Gelir spoke your name was so abruptly different from the more common noises of his boisterous shouting and laughter. As noticeably different as a midday summer blaze was from a dawn’s early rays. 

Suddenly you realized how badly your heart was racing, and how loud it must sound to his ears. 

"This ordeal has changed nothing in the way I view you. This… this accident…” The bitterness  of self-hate, a self-blame that you have repeatedly failed to talk him out of, cut through his words. “This threat to you, has only forced me to stare down a truth that I have ignored for too long. Before I do this, I wish to make that clear.”

Your speeding heart came to a sudden halt, as did the world around you. "Before you do what?"

The moment his hands cupped the sides of your face, his fingers threading into your hair, you were trapped. All hesitation, all fears and worries, extinguished like a wavering candle against a sudden gale as his mouth descended on yours. Valar, his lips were so soft. They moved tenderly against yours, confident in their conquest yet pleading for requital. 

And answer it you did. The wild joy and thrill and desire that had long been locked up in a cage of denial within you now broke free, and you kissed your Captain and Prince. You felt the slight tremble of his jaw and heard the faintest of moans from his throat as you deepened the kiss, tasting sweet mead from the sweep of his tongue. 

More. More. You craved more, and a fierce hunger for him exploded from your chest past your torn defenses. 

And suddenly you tasted blood.

With a wail of shock and despair, you withdrew and lurched away from Gelir, watching in horror as he touched the bleeding cut at the center of his lower lip, where you had bitten him.

“Eru what have I done?! I am so sorry, Gelir, I--”

“Stop. It’s all right…” He tried to say, but his calmness in the situation aggravated you. How could it be all right? How could you be so careless with the one you loved?! You tried to withdraw to a corner of the room, to get as far away from him as you could, but the limits of your iron shackles prevented it. 

“I swore I would not let this evil touch you and now I--” You could barely find your words, you were breathing so hard, so infuriated with yourself. 

“And I swore that I would never let anything happen to you,” Gelir cut in heatedly. “Even though it was a vow I made only to myself, I swore. Yet I failed, and this is how I choose to right that wrong.”

He called out to you repeatedly, your name like a hymn on his lips with the warm timbre of his singer’s voice, and it soothed you enough that you allowed him to come near, to take your hands in his again. "When I assured you that you would not face this alone, I meant it." 

"B-but the King… the Queen…" It broke you to think that you had failed them as well, after everything they had done for you your entire life. 

"...knew exactly what they were risking by permitting me to come here." He brushed the heel of his palm over your cheek, his thumb catching a stricken tear before it could fall. “They have known far longer than I have, longer than either of us, that my heart has been yours for years. Meleth nin…”

He placed your grotesque, beastly hand on his chest, and you marveled at the strong, steady beat of his heart underneath your misshapen fingers, which did not hurt nearly as much anymore.

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.” 

On the other side of the chamber doors, out in the hall, Elvenqueen Maereth gave her lord husband’s arm a squeeze. “Let us allow them their privacy; they waited so long for this moment,” she whispered. “An hour perhaps, to sort through these revelations.”

Thranduil smiled wryly. “Nothing opens a fool’s blind heart like the terror of loss.” He reached out to wrap an arm around his own beloved. “You are overspent, Endanya. Take your rest. I will send Arvellas to deliver the news to them later.”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

“He will do as he is told,” said Thranduil flatly, giving an impatient shake of his head. “It should be enough to satisfy him that their fates are now surely tied.” He paused, revealing the smallest of cracks in his nonchalance. “Are there concerns of the process being dangerous or painful?”

“It will certainly not be easy. But she is strong,” Maereth said with a faint smile. “And they will be strong for each other.”

“But the cure will work.”

“It may take time, but I have faith it will.” The Queen laced her fingers through Thranduil’s, seeking the comfort she always found in his hands. “If we have learned nothing else these past centuries, aran nin, it is that the Darkness can never prevail against light such as this.”

SotWK Fancast: Sam Claflin (Daisy Jones and The Six) as Prince Gelir Thranduilion

Elves Tag list: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @tamurilofrivendell @guardianofrivendell @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @heranintomyknife23times @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @talkdifferently6

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[felicity38fornow]

Kate Bishop | Öncelikler

Özet: Reader, günlerdir haber alamadığı kız arkadaşıyla ilk defa yüz yüze gelir.

Kate Bishop x Reader

Uyarı: Angst, özlem, ufak ağlayışlar, biraz sinir krizi.

Kate son bir haftadır hiçbir aramana dönmediğinde ve dün de annesi tutuklandığı için çok endişeliydin. Gözün de kulağın da telefondaydı. Haber kanallarını son günlerde o kadar çok izledin ki her tarafa dehşet saçan çeteler umurunda bile olmadı.

Tek isteğin, kız arkadaşının güvende olduğuyla ilgili bir mesajdı.

Son kavganızı hatırlayarak kendine işkence etmekten kendin bile yorulmuştun.

Gözlerin doldu. Burnun yine sızladı. Oysaki gözyaşlarının çoktan tükendiğini sanıyordun. Çok yoruldun ve çok yıprandın ama Kate ile ilgili bir haber alamadın.

Yorgunlukla içini çekerek çöktüğün balkan zemininden ayrıldın. Noel dahi olsa Kate yanına gelmeyecekti belki de. Yüreğin sıkıştı ve bir an kapı pervazında kaldın. Günlerdir kendini hırpalıyordun ve aklına asla gelmemesi gereken ihtimalleri düşünüyordun ama bu hiç aklına gelmemişti. İhtimal dahi vermedin. Çünkü senin Kate'ın böyle yapmaz. O, sevgisini ve ilgisini vermeyi daima sevmiş biriydi. Asla korkak değildi, kafa tutar ve pes etmezdi.

Ama... ya pes etmişse?

Ya gitmişse?

"Hayır, hayır," diyerek kendini teselli etmeye çalıştın. Yorgun ve acıyan gözlerini kırpıştırarak aklındaki korkunç senaryolardan kurtulmaya çalıştın. "Geri dönecek."

Kate, o gün de dönmedi.

Ve önündeki son üç günde de.

Noel geçip gittiğinde, ailene özürler sıraladın ve işlerinin çok yoğun olduğunu bahane ettin. Ayrıca kız arkadaşınla özel şeyler planladığını da ekledin. Kate'ı çocukluğunuzdan beri tanıdıkları için bunu asla sorun yapmadılar ve bir sonraki tatilinde ikinizi de davet ettiler.

'Burada olursa,' diye içinden şart koştun. Onun yaşayıp yaşamadığını bile bilmiyordun.

Polisler sana pek de yardımcı olmadılar. Blip'ten beş yıl sonra geri dönen insanlardan sonra o kadar çok kayıp ihbarı oldu ki kimse öncelik verileceği bile değildi. Kate'ın öncelik sırasında olmamasına çok sinirlendin elbette ama elinden herhangi bir şey de gelmiyordu. Yapabileceğin tek şey buydu.

Ortak dairenizdeki, ev aslında Kate'e ait, eşyalarının bir kısmını valizlere dolduralı bir gün kadar oluyordu. Kate'den umudunu asla kesmedin ama onun anılarıyla dolu bir evde yirmi dört saat boyunca durmak işkenceden farksızdı. Ayrıca, seni terk ettiğiyle ilgili düşüncen her geçen saat güçleniyordu. Bunu en azından habersiz yapmamasını ummuştun sadece. Tanıdığın tüm uzun yıllar boyunca o asla böyle biri olmasa da, ikiniz de büyüdükçe farklı insanlar oldunuz sonuçta. Belki kolej arkadaşlarından dolayıydı; kafayı bulmuş olabilir miydi? Ama tüm dostlarıyla konuşmuştun. Son kavgalarınız çok şiddetli olduğu içindi belki de? Ama her seferinde birbirinizin gönlünü aldınız.

Tanrım... O zaman neden? Neden kız arkadaşın son bir buçuk haftadır yanında değil?

Bir şey mi yapmadın? Yoksa yanlış bir şey mi yaptın? Çöpü çıkarmayı mı unuttun? Onu incittin mi? Kendisinden vazgeçtiğini mi düşünüyordu?

Ya da... Ona bir şey mi oldu?

Yüreğin sıkıştı, tuttuğun dolap kapaklarını sıktın. Aynadan görebildiğin dağılmış görüntün yüzünü buruşturmana neden oldu. Berbat görünüyordun. Kendini Kate'ı bulmaya o kadar adadın ki birkaç saat önce bir şeyler yiyip yemediğini bile hatırlayamıyordun. Yemedin. Kilon düştü, yüzün çöktü ve kendini sürekli üzgün hissediyordun. Belki bu ana kadar o kadar çok fark etmemiştin ama Kate senin hayatının merkeziydi. Çocukluğun boyunca yanındaydı. Sen onunla büyüdün.

Ama o artık yok.

İç geçirdin.

Sırt çantanı günlerdir düzenli duran yatağınızdan aldın, kapının yanında duran valizi çekmeye başladın. Buradan ayrılmak istemedin ama yalnızlık çok zor gelmeye başladı.

Açık bıraktığın kapıları kapattın. Camları son kez kontrol etmeye başladın. Salona doğru ilerlerken kısık sesler duydun. Yüreğin korku ve heyecanla çarptı. Kate olabilir miydi? O zaman diğer kisi kimdi? Soğukkanlılığını korumaya çalıştın.

Clint ile sessizce tartışan Kate, senin gelişini özlemle izledi. Girişte durdun, ifadesizce ona baktın. Kate, senin bu şekilde davranmana alışık değildi. Yine de seni o kadar çok özledi ki bu davranışların gözüne bile kaçmadı. "Bebeğim," diyerek sana adımlamaya başladı.

Ancak aniden bir adım geriye çekildin, sertçe ona baktın. Aynı zamanda, ne yaptığını da anlamıyordun. Kate, hareketinle duraksadı. "Geri dur." Dedin sakince.

"Çok karışık olduğunu biliyorum ama sana her şeyi açıklayacağım-"

"Gidiyorum,"

"Clint ile olanlara inanamazsın - Ne?" Duraksadı. "Gidiyorum da ne demek?"

Gözlerin birkaç saniye Clint dediği adama değdi. "Sen Clint ile kal. Ben gidiyorum, demek." Dedin sakinliğini koruyarak. Ne hissetmen gerektiğinden emin değildin. "Annen için üzgünüm. Gerçekten. Ve zamanın olursa aileme birkaç mazeret sırala, lütfen."

"Y/N,"

"Teşekkürler, Kate. Her neyse. Artık hiçbir şey önemli değil, değil mi? Hem, bir buçuk hafta boyunca başına bir şey geldiğini düşünerek karakolda yatmamın hiçbir açıklaması olamaz, değil mi?" Alay ettin. "Ah, ya da olabilir. Sonuçta buna değmem, ha?"

Böyle düşündüğün için nefesi kesildi. Clint, ikinizin özel konuşacağını anladığı için Kate'e döndü. "Aşağıda bekliyor olacağım." Diyerek ayrıldı.

Alaylı bakışlarınla adamın arkasından baktın. Senin yanında olmak yerine haftalardır eski Avengers üyesinin yanında olmasının da yanında, bir mesajı bile çok görmüştü. Geceleri karakollarda yattığını unutamazdın. Bu kadar kolay değil.

"Tatlım, kızgın olduğunu anlıyorum." Diye başladı Kate ama sen sinir bozukluğu ile güldüğünde devam edemedi. Kızgın olmak? Gerçekten sadece kızgın olduğunu düşünemezdi. Hayal kırıklığı tüm hücrelerini yakıyordu. Kızgın olmakta haklı değil mıydın zaten?

"Kızgınlık? Kızgın olduğumu mu sanıyorsun?" Dedin gittikçe sesin yükselirken. "Gerçekten kızgın mıyım? Senin için günlerce koşturdum, ölü ya da diri seni bulmak için. Bana sadece bir mesaj atman yeterdi."

"Her şey çok hızlı ve tehlikeli oldu. Kimseye haber verecek vaktim olmadı, kimseyle iletişim kuramadım."

"O zaman anneni nasıl tutukladılar?" Diye sordun daha sakin bir tonda. Nasıl hissetmen gerektiğinden emin değildin. Kızgın olmak bile seni yoruyordu. Kate, şu an seni yoruyordu. Özlemden deliriyor dahi olsan, haksızlığa uğradığın kısmını göz ardı edemezsin.

Cevap veremedi. Kate, kahramanlığı hayatının merkezine koymaya başladıkça seni oradan ittirdi. Bunu fark etmedi. Yıllardır izinden gittiği kahramanla yüz yüze geldiğinde ve sırt sırta savaştığında onun için önemli olan tek şey doğru ve yanlış oldu. Kate gerçekten de bunun farkında değildi ama bunun, seni kaybetmek olduğunu anlayacaktı. Sen, kendinden önce onu tutarken, o da yeni öncelikler belirlemeliydi. Özellikle de bu işe devam edecekse.

"Ben gidiyorum, Katie," dedin usulca. Valizini sıkıca kavradın ve kendine içinden destek oldun. "Belki de düşünme sırası sana gelmiştir."

İlk ama fena değil gibi? Benimle görüşlerini paylaş! ^^

İstek alıyorum ve kesinlikle yazmaya çalışacağım.

(Turkish Version)

[sotwk]

Hello! Pain sounds intriguing to me (the wip title not the physical sensation, duh)

May we have a snippet or a description 👀👀

[Tag List Game]

About: "Pain"

I started this WIP in response to an Anon Ask! They were asking for a hurt/comfort Legolas x Reader fic, where the Reader is in an established relationship with Legolas. She is grievously wounded while out on patrol with him, therefore swift action is required to save her life.

This story occurs sometime during the early years of the "darkening" of Eryn Galen, just before outsiders started calling the forest "Mirkwood". The Silvans are still learning to cope with the crisis of the spiders and dark beasts multiplying in the southern woodlands. Note that in the SotWK AU, the southern parts of Eryn Galen are the provinces/regencies of Prince Gelir and Prince Legolas. For at least a century after the Necromancer takes Dol Guldur, the princes fight to drive out the evil plaguing their lands. Ultimately however, they are forced to abandon the cause and retreat for the safety of their people.

Back to the story: When Legolas's beloved is injured, he wrestles with the frustration and angst of not having healing abilities of his own, and can only hold and comfort her while waiting for a healer to arrive. I plan to introduce some of my own ideas and headcanons about Elvish healing practices, both from the Silvans and the Calaquendi knowledge brought to the realm by Elvenqueen Maereth.

Thank you for asking, @lady-of-imladris! <3

I also hope the Anon who made the Legolas fic request sees this--I am doing my best to get this done for you asap. :) Also, you might be the one who sent me this Ask:

It makes me chuckle that some folks seem to think there's not enough content for Legolas out there, and yet--I totally get it! Sometimes the blorbo thirst simply cannot be quenched. ;)

[sotwk]

4th Day of Yule: “Four Calling Birds”

Prince Arvellas Thranduilion x Reader

Third Age 247

Men-i-Naugrim, Eryn Galen

At first, the cacophony of merry calling, booming laughter, pounding hooves, and exploding snowbanks unsettled you. You had served in the House of Thranduil all your life, just as your parents had, and you frequently saw the king's sons around the palace. You thought you knew those princes well--or at least as well as a scribe-in-residence would reasonably be expected to know the royals. This morning however, you realized you had been given a unique opportunity to see the princes in a different light, released from the confines of court protocol and formalities. 

Who would have thought those gentle-mannered, refined lords could be so… so… wild out in the…wild? 

“No no no!!! I said I was not ready! That was foul play!” Young Prince Gelir sputtered, shaking off the mound of snow that had been dumped over his head by the shovel-sized hands of Prince Turhir. He clutched the silver mane of his horse to maintain his position on its saddleless back, while pawing furiously at his wet face. “You sneak! You rotten--”

You diverted your eyes, which had gone wide at the outburst of coarse verbiage from the prince’s mouth. Most of the cursing was drowned out by the taunting howls and cackles of Princes Mirion and Turhir, which were even more shocking sounds coming from the noble elder sons of King Thranduil. Noro! Noro! The deep voices shouted, and in thundering gallops all three riders vanished yet again behind the trees further down the Forest Road. 

“What does that word mean?”

You turned to the littlest of the Thrandilions, Legolas, where he squirmed in his seat on the sleigh between you and Prince Arvellas. Thankfully, his brother, who had remained silent for most of the ride so far, spoke up to answer. 

“Nothing you need to learn or utter for a while yet.” Arvellas shook his head and smiled. “In fact, I would advise you to avoid repeating any new words you hear coming out of Gelir’s mouth--especially when he is yelling them.”

Legolas scrunched up his nose and nodded. “All right.” The elfling leapt back up on his feet, despite being asked to sit down only a few minutes ago. You and Arvellas exchanged glances, and he raised his shoulders in a resigned shrug. It was probably too much to expect of a five-year-old to sit still, anyway. 

Legolas had already pouted plenty over the fact that he had to ride in the sleigh instead of being allowed a steed of his own. You sympathized with his frustration at first-- until you witnessed the sort of risky play the princes liked to engage in. You adored horses, even though you did not ride or own one, but the princes�� giant Arrochs, taller than you by over two feet, wider than a bull elk and possessing unpredictable temperament, frightened you a little. The older princes seemed to wield full mastery over them, but even Gelir was just starting to learn, so you shared in the Queen’s reluctance to permit little Legolas to mount one just yet. 

“Look up there, your High--Legolas!” You pointed towards the naked boughs of a nearby tree, where a curious tree mouse scrambled across a high overhanging branch to watch their sleigh pass by. “That one is called a skyrunner.”

The elfling oohed and ahhed with loud appreciation, as he did at every creature you pointed out to him. Seeing the unbridled enthusiasm of a child enjoying new woodland discoveries made you so very glad you pushed aside your nervousness and accepted Arvellas’s invitation to join them on their winter ride down the Men-i-Naugrim.  

But being in the presence of the Scholar Prince in this situation, even surrounded by his boisterous siblings, challenged your ability to wrestle away unwanted thoughts about him. It was easier to think of yourself as his mere colleague when you were busy working side-by-side in the libraries, with piles of texts to fill your mind. You reasoned that Arvellas had asked you to come for the benefit of your wildlife expertise; no had yet surpassed you in the number of pages written to document the native flora and fauna of Eryn Galen. 

And what a pleasure it was to travel through these woods with the princes! For no matter how loudly they hollered, how fiercely they threw snowballs at each other, or how savagely their horses charged in and out through the trees, the forest animals did not retreat from their chaos. In the many years you had dedicated to tracking the native beasts of this realm, you had never before seen so many different creatures and rare species all at once come out of hiding, drawn to the exuberant energy of the five Thranduilions. 

You were so enraptured by the number of singing birds that perched on the sleigh’s front bow, and the squirrels that scrambled onto the backs of the pulling horses, and the one cheeky fox that crept up a delighted Legolas’s lap for some pets, that you did not immediately notice that Arvellas’s eyes were not on the wondrous sight of the gathered animals.  His gaze, perpetually kind and soft, and blue as the sunny winter skies, had settled solely on you.  

When you looked up and your gaze finally crossed paths with his, a strange, completely unwilled squeak flew from your throat. Mortified with yourself, you scooted sideways on the cushioned bench to maximize the distance between you. Suddenly, his arm stretched out and his hand encased your fingers in a tender squeeze that sent a clear message. 

You found yourself leaning close to the prince, drawn to him just like the woodland creatures were, goosebumps rippling over your skin when he whispered your name. His hand left yours to reach for your face, and your eyelids fluttered in anticipation. 

“SNOW!!!” Legolas yelled happily, dropping back down in the center seat while you lurched away in time to avoid knocking heads. “It is snowing!”

At least the falling ice flakes kept the elfling completely oblivious! As you tried to gather your composure, the roar of laughter announced the return of the other princes. Three riders burst back out on the road ahead, but only Mirion drove his horse all the way up to the sleigh. 

“Come on, honeg,” the eldest prince said, and stretched out his hand to Legolas.  “I will take you for a turn.”

The elfling jumped up so hastily he almost toppled off the sleigh. “Truly??”

“Are you sure that is wise?” Arvellas tried to say, even as Mirion yanked their littlest brother onto the Arroch’s back, securing the child in the circle of his arms.

“This is his opportunity.” You did not miss the twinkle in the Crown Prince’s eyes, and certainly not the indiscreet wink he tossed at Arvellas.  “And what can be wiser than seizing hold of every opportunity?”

They galloped off to rejoin Turhir and Gelir, and their merry band launched into a raucous song that faded with them into the distance, leaving behind the sleigh in the silence of the falling snow. 

It took a very long minute before Arvellas finally broke that silence. “I apologize if this outing has not turned out to be quite what you expected,” he sighed.  

“No… I suppose it hasn’t.” You took a deep breath, and something in the smell of the fresh snow and the way it brushed your cheeks gave you courage. Or perhaps the princes’ attitude of reckless abandon had pulled you in, too.

You scooted back across the bench, even closer this time, and snuggled in when Arvellas moved his arm to welcome you and draw you against the warmth of his chest. “Because I never would have dared expect anything as wonderful or perfect as this.”

Yuletide Series MASTERLIST

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[absentmindeduniverse]

This. This is so good 😊👌.

I love Gelir! He's such a good big brother and the banter they have is just peek siblings energy 😂. It's really sweet and lovely, and the dialogues are just golden I laughed so much 🤣.

Unnecessary Guardian (Legolas x FReader fluff drabble)

Summary: Legolas insists on secretly guarding his dear friend on her first patrols as a new Mirkwood Spider Hunter. (A/N: Reader does not actually appear in the story, but is alluded to as "She".)

Prompt: Story inspired by the Anonymous share received below:

Word count: 790

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluffy implied romance, brotherly banter and ribbing, OC Mirkwood Prince, Feren

Warnings: None

To Read on AOC: Link

Dedication: For Anon: Thank you for inspiring me to write my first-ever drabble! I hope your job training continues to go well, and that having Legolas as your imaginary guardian gives you strength and confidence. <3

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Unnecessary Guardian

Third Age 1254 Spring

Mirkwood

“It will be the last time I ask this favor, brother. I swear it,” insisted Legolas, twisting his body to narrowly avoid collision with a hunter ducking back out of the crowded armory shed. 

Gelir rolled his eyes as he yanked a sheaf of arrows from the weapons rack and slid it into his leather quiver. “And last week, you swore it would be the one and only time.” With the younger prince stubbornly on his tail, he marched out to the assembly grounds, where over half of his unit had already gathered.  

"I misjudged how long my protection would be needed."

“Needed?” Gelir barked a laugh as he strapped on the last of his gear. “If your conclusion from that patrol is that she needs anyone to protect her, then you must not have been watching very carefully. And that, honeg, would only render your gallant services even more unnecessary.”

Protests died on Legolas’s lips, silenced by the truth. His mind flashed back on the memories of that first attack, when a spider the size of an aurochs charged at your party from an underground lair. He had been following high above in the trees, as close as he could get without defying Gelir’s orders. He barely had a chance to raise his bow before your arrow found its mark dead center in the spider’s cluster of eyes. Hit in its most vulnerable spot, the creature collapsed writhing, leaving it to be finished off easily by the knives of your comrades. 

“She outshot Feren at the range yesterday,” Gelir said, snapping Legolas out of his daze and making him wonder if his brother had snuck into his thoughts. The prince grinned and brandished two fingers at another hunter standing within earshot. “Twice.”

“Two times out of five rounds,” Feren called out with a shrug. “I got her in three.”

“Still a worthy achievement, from previously never being able to best you,” Gelir hollered over at his second-in-command. “She is learning and growing by leaps and bounds. I for one am eager to see how quickly she will rise in rank.

“Well, she should be arriving any second now,” Feren interjected, throwing a pointed glance at Legolas. “I would suggest heading off, unless you are willing to answer what I can only assume would be a string of uncomfortable questions should she find you here."

Legolas grabbed Gelir’s arm before he could walk away to join his unit. “Please.”

Something in the tone of his voice must have moved the older prince, because he stopped short to study him for a long pause. “All right,” Gelir finally said. “You may come along, like a sneaky little stowaway. Again.”

He tutted and held up a hand as Legolas’s expression cracked into a jubilant smile. “But only IF you admit that you are doing this not for her, but for you.” The Captain of the Spiderhunters grinned and clapped a hand on his arm. “Your attempts to feed me such frail lies is just insulting now, honeg. Solid, convincing lies, those I can respect. But this one is weak.”

Legolas raised his chin and fought vainly against the flush creeping up his neck.  

“I believe she benefits from having me--”

“Tsk, no. Try again.”

Legolas hissed and turned away, clutching his head in frustration. Gelir was not one to magnanimously let an opportunity like this pass, not when he had him cornered like desperate prey. Any moment now, you were likely to appear at the clearing, and he would be caught without an excuse for being all this way across the kingdom, so far from the Elvenking’s Halls where his duties lay. 

Legolas let out a slow, deep breath, then drew it slowly back in. “I…care about her,” he mumbled grudgingly, but as he released these words, a hard knot in chest seemed to loosen with it. “I just want… I need to know she will not come to harm out there.”

At last, a smile that actually looked proud and sympathetic flickered on Gelir’s face. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed his brother by the sides of his face and lightly knocked his forehead against his. Then just as quickly, he gripped him by the shoulders and gave him an affectionate little shake. 

"Be more careful about staying out of sight. Only Feren and I are wise to this and we will cover for you if need be, but do not make it harder for us by inviting suspicion.”

“Annon allen. I am in your debt,” vowed Legolas, already backing away and preparing to make himself scarce.

Gelir laughed and waved him off. “You are still a fool! But that is a problem I shall help you fix another time.”

Tag List: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @heilith @laneynoir @quickslvxr @achromaticerebus @auttumnsayshi @tamryniel @legoriel-fan

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[quickslvxrr]

EEEEEEE THATS SO CUTE Thank you so much!

Shy legolas is one I didn't think off but definitely needed! And every time I read a little about Gelir I like him more and more lol

<33

The Best Gift (Legolas x f!Reader)

Summary: Legolas wishes a "dear friend" a Joyous Begetting Day--but anonymously.

Dedication: For my dearest @quickslvxrr, who has been such a constant and patient supporter. I'm so sorry it took forever to grant such a simple fic request from you. I hope this brings you some joy during rather difficult times. <3

Word count: 1.3k

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluff, comedy, romance, shy young Legolas, secret pining, brotherly banter, OC Son of Thranduil (Prince Gelir) 

Warnings: None

To Read on AO3: LINK

The Best Gift

Third Age 556 June 26th

The Woodland Realm

“What in Araw’s name are you doing?”

Legolas gave a muffled cry and stumbled back a couple of steps, but caught his balance before he could crash into the shrubbery outside the small kitchen window. 

“Get down!” he hissed at his brother Gelir, grabbing the older ellon’s sleeve and yanking him down to the dirt beside him.

His heart racing like frightened deer’s, Legolas listened carefully for changes in the movement within her cottage, any sign that she might have overheard his dolt of a brother’s voice and sought to investigate. Mercifully, the melody of her sweet humming continued to float uninterrupted from the open window. 

“Oh, are you the only one permitted to wish our dear friend a Joyous Begetting?” Gelir smirked and punched him on the shoulder. “If I too had a gift I wished to present to her for the occasion, would you pound me?”

“No!” Legolas blurted out quickly; too quickly. “Wait--have you brought a gift for her?”

“I have not, because I had assumed your answer to that question would be yes. And as little as I fear your wee hits, honeg, I do not particularly enjoy being on the receiving end of them.” 

Gelir shoved the younger prince aside, leapt lightly to his feet, and crept over to peer above the windowsill. Legolas held his breath, despite knowing Gelir would never be seen or heard by any elf, man, or beast if he did not wish for them to. The worrisome issue was the great pleasure his brother seemed to derive from embarrassing him at every open opportunity--something one might assume a grown elf would grow weary of after two and half centuries, but it had yet to happen. 

Thankfully, after an agonizing few seconds, Gelir dropped back down to their hiding spot. “I see you opted for the purple night lilies.” He cocked an eyebrow at Legolas. "I seem to recall Ammë setting certain conditions on the use of the rarest blooms from her garden."

"You recall correctly," said Legolas tersely. All four of his elder brothers were frustratingly knowledgeable of the details of his personal business--a result of the powerful bonds that linked them. But Gelir was easily bored, and the only one to actually stick his nose in for active meddling. "She did not set a time by which I am required to make myself known."

"And is Ammë also aware you have spent--on my guess--at least the last two hours sitting outside this unwitting maid’s window hoping that she would come to some sort of epiphany?”

Legolas thought about the smile that lit up her face so beautifully his entire chest ached, and the way it had stayed on her face the entire time he waited there, content to just observe the joy he had caused. 

“I believe she knows. Or is close to discerning it.” 

“You are right. She must realize eventually that a plant so rare and valuable could only come from a high lord or prince.” Gelir snapped his fingers. “Perhaps I should walk in there and take the credit and her fair heart to boot!”

Legolas jerked his head suddenly. “You wouldn’t!”

“You are right. I would not; that would be wrong.” Gelir leaned in closer, his expression suddenly stern. “But it is just as egregious to carry on as long as you have, making veiled overtures to this lady rather than mustering the courage to speak the truth of your feelings plainly to her face.”

“The pursuit of someone’s affections must be like hunting. When you hunt an animal, you go with the focused intent of finishing the job as quickly as possible. You do not toy with the creature to scare or confuse it and cause it needless pain.” 

Gelir clamped a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder. “I may not know what it is like to lose my heart in this manner, little brother. But I know it is unfitting that I show greater respect to animals I stalk than you do to someone you profess to love.” 

The sudden outpouring of wisdom from his wise-cracking brother rendered Legolas speechless.  But something on his face must have quelled Gelir’s baser instincts to tease and mock him. 

“Explain your struggle. Where does all your hesitation lie?”

“I…she…” His brother seemed so genuine this time in his desire to help, that the words broke through Legolas’s reluctance to expose his vulnerabilities. “What if she does not feel the same way I do? What if she will not have me?”

“She does and she will.”

“How do you know for certain?”

“Because I have two eyes and I use them,” Gelir said flatly, his patience already worn thin. “Unlike the both of you, evidently, who cannot gaze directly at each other's faces long enough to notice how nauseatingly smitten you are with one another.”

Legolas’s hands curled into tight fists. Against his better instincts, he wanted to believe it. What maiden could refuse a son of the Elvenking if he offered her his heart?

Well, she could, in all likelihood. For what was his title against true beauty and grace such as hers? Why should he be her first choice when she could have anyone in the entirety of Eryn Galen?

“Bah! Enough of this tragic nonsense.” Gelir’s hand around his arm easily tugged the dazed Legolas to his feet.  “I will not let you waste any more time squatting here like a toad. And even toads have the sense to croak and announce their intentions.”

Gelir hooked his arm around his brother’s hunched shoulders and gave him a firm shake. “Perhaps a few bottles from Ada’s cellars might rally those nerves, eh? Come. With any luck,  you can make another go of it before the day’s end.”

As they trudged around the hedges to start the trek back up to the King’s palace, Legolas wrestled with the sense of failure at his retreat. Why could he not be more like his brothers, if not like their father? Afraid of nothing, brimming with confidence to speak their mind to anybody. What was stopping him?

Nobody. Nobody but himself. 

Legolas froze in place so suddenly that Gelir nearly lost his balance. “What--?”

The younger prince turned to squarely face the pathwalk leading back to the cottage, glaring at the bright green door with the intensity of one about to leap across an impossible distance over a deadly chasm. 

“Yessss. Go on!” He distantly heard Gelir hoot as he began his determined stride up the path. 

But then he heard something else. Footsteps. A doorknob turning. 

The color drained from Legolas’s face and his legs turned to lead. He twisted about to scurry away and out of sight, but a pair of powerful hands suddenly seized the back of his tunic, lifting him so that his boot soles left the ground. 

A hard, rough toss pitched the helpless elf to the cottage just as the door swung open. He flailed his arms out to regain his balance and avoid face-planting on the stoop, but not quickly enough to avoid bumping against the maiden that had stepped out of her home. 

“H-Hello.” He gulped down the panic that rose up his chest, as the nearness of her, such as he had never experienced before, enfolded him. Her scent, her warmth, her…touch? Legolas realized that she had raised her hands and planted them firmly against his chest, likely to help break his ungraceful fall. 

“I… uh, I came to wish you… that is…I-I just wanted to say…” Valar, did Gelir’s shove knock his tongue loose from his mouth?!  

“I wished so badly for it to be you!" she suddenly blurted out, and stuck forward her chin in her willful defiance of protocol.

“R-really?” Unexpected joy and relief burst out of Legolas’s chest like a flock of sparrows exploding from a bush.

The sweetest blush rosied her cheeks, but she still had not moved her hands from the front of his tunic, he noticed. “The flowers are the most beautiful present I have ever received, but knowing that what I had hoped for is true, that they came from you… that is really the best gift.”

“I do not believe there is anyone gladder about your begetting than I,” the elf prince avowed.

And as her whole face lit up brighter than Gil-Estel, as she slid her arm through his and guided him into the cottage, Legolas felt the nudge of a distinct sound inside his head: the chuckle of an older brother whom he had just given yet another anecdote to refer to the next time he wanted to crow over being “always right”. 

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @fizzyxcustard @freshalmondpandadonut @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

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[quillofspirit]

i have already commented on AO3, but people everywhere need good werewolf fics, and especially with soft giants, and people who love each other a lot

Transformed (Gelir Thranduilion x femReader )

Fanfic Request from the @fellowshipofthefics's AU-gust Mashup Event

Prompt: Gelir, son of Thranduil (SotWK OC) + Mythical creatures + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Summary: A Mirkwood huntress is attacked by a mythical beast and begins a slow and gradual transformation into a monster herself. Prince Gelir helps her through the frightening ordeal by overseeing her care.

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir I am so thrilled (and relieved) that I was finally able to complete one of your requests! Thank you for being so patient with me, and for giving me a chance to finally write an insert starring one of my OC Thranduilions. (How self-indulgent and exciting!) Love you, darling!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: AU, werewolf lore, romance, angst, mild gore, hidden feelings, oblivious to love

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Mild sensuality, mention of blood and mild horror/violence

To Read on AO3: Link

Transformed

Third Age 1554

Mirkwood

Legends had people believing that werewolves could shift from human to lupine form within a matter of minutes at the strike of the full moon. But legends, merely stories passed down across generations by word of mouth, often got certain details wrong. 

As was the case with you. 

The long iron chains that connected the shackles around your wrists to the wall clinked softly as you raised your loosely bound hands to your face. You brushed your fingers over the coarse hair that covered your neck, its growth making the slow, tedious crawl upward to your jawline, where a soft fuzz had developed overnight. By tomorrow, you would likely wake with your cheeks entirely covered in fur…perhaps among other worse changes. 

Heightened senses had manifested first, long before the physical changes began to show, and so the distinctly heady scents of warm rain and spring grass identified your visitor before he ever stepped through the door. But there was also the fact that hardly anyone else had dared to step foot into the same room as you, ever since your condition was identified. Despite folklore attesting that the mysterious affliction could only be transmitted by a creature’s bite, all the other elves were behaving as though merely breathing in the same air would get them infected. 

You were grateful that Gelir had never behaved very much like all the others. Still, the carefree boldness you had always admired in him now worried you.

“You really must stop coming here,” you mumbled, just barely raising your gaze towards him. He was a Prince of Eryn Galen, yes, and the leader of your company besides. But you had known each other for far too long to put on pretenses with each other. "I could lose control of myself any moment now and hurt you."

"You could try to hurt me," he countered with a smirk. "You would not succeed." He folded his arms over his chest and ran his gaze all over you, his unfailingly keen eyes assessing the physical changes that had occurred since his last visit merely a few hours ago. 

You turned away in a futile attempt to escape his stare. Gelir meant well, and was the only one whose concern for you overrode any instinct for self-preservation, the latter of which he never possessed much of, anyway. But even in your weary sadness and pit of despair you were embarrassed about being seen like this, especially by him. Your childhood friend who had always sauntered around oblivious to how annoyingly, stupidly, breathtakingly handsome he was. 

"I am serious," you said sharply, vaguely conscious of the feral rush of anger in your gut, rising into what sounded like a rumbling snarl in your throat. "I will not be responsible for inflicting this curse on the King's son."

"If hurting me is your main concern when you are the one suffering through all this…" Gelir shook his head, his face suddenly and uncharacteristically somber. "Then you are still very much like yourself and I have nothing to worry about."

You sighed and slumped back down on the edge of the bed. King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests. 

A month into the ordeal and they were still tending to you like a guest, changing your bed linens like clockwork, bringing you water and fresh towels to clean yourself with, dropping off three meals a day along with stacks of books and paper and quills to help you pass the time. 

“You have not eaten all day.” Gelir gestured at the untouched dinner tray on the low table. "Nor did you yesterday. Or the day before that."

“I feel no hunger.”

“You must eat,” he said firmly. “Whatever appeals to you, tell me and I will send for it."

"What point is there? Perhaps starving myself is the best and cleanest way to end this mess."

"The point is I will not have you losing hope while the rest of us hold fast. The healers have not ceased tearing into the creature's corpse for answers. Must I remind you that both Arvellas and my mother are leading the efforts to find a cure?"

Tears sprang to the corners of your eyes. Knowing the royal family was devoting their time to helping you really was what kept you going through the moments of despair and self-pity. But it was hard not to question what made you worthy of such attention, even though the King and Queen were well-known for regarding every subject in their kingdom as family. 

The subtle shift of the firm mattress under his weight drew your thoughts to the fact that he had sat down next to you. On impulse, you shrank away to take back the distance that safely separated you from the elf-prince.

Gelir frowned, and you immediately held up both your hands to remind him of how they had gruesomely mutated over the past week. When you first noticed your fingers begin to stiffen at the joints and curl inward to your palms, until it pained you to fully stretch them, that was the first time you broke down sobbing over your condition. The ugly hair that sprouted at unsightly places all over your body to suffocate your skin had bothered you much less. But your hands-- lithe and strong and skilled with bow and knife and craft--those were your treasures. Now they were malformed and good for nothing except perhaps wanton slaughter, the only possible use for the razor-sharp claws that still continued to grow out of each fingertip. 

"I dare not have you within reach of these, your Highness,” you whispered, steeling your face against the threat of another breakdown. “Please."

Unsurprisingly, Gelir defied your plea. He reached out, and before you could resist--yet did you even attempt to?--one of his strong hands closed around your wrist, and he guided the deformed monstrosity to rest against his open palm. You flinched as the points of the claws touched the prince’s skin. 

"I am no delicate flower," Gelir said loudly. He pushed one of the sharp tips into the flesh of his palm, where it found resistance as hard as stone: a warrior’s hand inherited from his great forebears and strengthened by centuries of  training and battle. "And I can protect myself, even from you, no matter what form you take."

The mere thought of attacking him sickened you, and brought your mind back to that dark cave where you had recklessly given chase to an already dying orc. You had been so focused on revenge, on seeking payment for what the filth had done to your comrade, that you did not detect the more dangerous beast lurking in the deep tunnel until it leapt out at you.

Your struggle with the creature lasted a mere few seconds before an arrowhead burst through its eye, forcing its jaws to release your bloodied forearm. Gelir’s enraged scream echoed dreadfully through the cave as he threw the monster off you and ended it with a single swing of his longknife, nearly cleaving its midsection in half. 

Those images sent a shiver down your entire body. You pulled your hands away to wrap your arms around yourself, and stood up to pace alongside the bed. After a moment of Gelir just sitting there quietly watching you wrestle your anxiety, you stopped to face him and blurt out: 

"And when I become too much of a threat, how will you deal with it then? Will you kill me too?"

“Do you feel an urge to attack me?” Gelir rose slowly, keen green eyes searching your face. “Right now, at this moment? Are you overcome by a desire to rip my throat out?”

You stared at him, so handsome and flawless and immaculate a figure, the dream of many an elf in the kingdom. Such beauty and light was so loathed by the Darkness, that any evil festering within you would surely rise to try and destroy him.

But as you stood within arm’s reach of your friend, close enough to inflict serious damage if violent impulses demand it, all you could feel was the same thing you had felt for him since the day he first made you laugh. When you thought you would never laugh again after the raiding orcs claimed your family’s lives. 

“No,” you finally mumbled. “Not at this moment.”  

“Until then, I forbid you from even imagining me harming a hair on your body.” He caught your gaze and smiled. “Even though you certainly have more of it now than you did before.”

Laughter rang clear from your mouth, and went on so heartily and for so long that it blurred your vision and emptied your lungs. By the time you regained your composure, you noticed that Gelir had remained oddly silent the whole time, and returned to staring at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need to.” He exhaled softly, as an archer might to reduce tension in their body before loosing an arrow. “To remind me of why I must speak up now, and delay no longer.” 

The softness with which Gelir spoke your name was so abruptly different from the more common noises of his boisterous shouting and laughter. As noticeably different as a midday summer blaze was from a dawn’s early rays. 

Suddenly you realized how badly your heart was racing, and how loud it must sound to his ears. 

"This ordeal has changed nothing in the way I view you. This… this accident…” The bitterness  of self-hate, a self-blame that you have repeatedly failed to talk him out of, cut through his words. “This threat to you, has only forced me to stare down a truth that I have ignored for too long. Before I do this, I wish to make that clear.”

Your speeding heart came to a sudden halt, as did the world around you. "Before you do what?"

The moment his hands cupped the sides of your face, his fingers threading into your hair, you were trapped. All hesitation, all fears and worries, extinguished like a wavering candle against a sudden gale as his mouth descended on yours. Valar, his lips were so soft. They moved tenderly against yours, confident in their conquest yet pleading for requital. 

And answer it you did. The wild joy and thrill and desire that had long been locked up in a cage of denial within you now broke free, and you kissed your Captain and Prince. You felt the slight tremble of his jaw and heard the faintest of moans from his throat as you deepened the kiss, tasting sweet mead from the sweep of his tongue. 

More. More. You craved more, and a fierce hunger for him exploded from your chest past your torn defenses. 

And suddenly you tasted blood.

With a wail of shock and despair, you withdrew and lurched away from Gelir, watching in horror as he touched the bleeding cut at the center of his lower lip, where you had bitten him.

“Eru what have I done?! I am so sorry, Gelir, I--”

“Stop. It’s all right…” He tried to say, but his calmness in the situation aggravated you. How could it be all right? How could you be so careless with the one you loved?! You tried to withdraw to a corner of the room, to get as far away from him as you could, but the limits of your iron shackles prevented it. 

“I swore I would not let this evil touch you and now I--” You could barely find your words, you were breathing so hard, so infuriated with yourself. 

“And I swore that I would never let anything happen to you,” Gelir cut in heatedly. “Even though it was a vow I made only to myself, I swore. Yet I failed, and this is how I choose to right that wrong.”

He called out to you repeatedly, your name like a hymn on his lips with the warm timbre of his singer’s voice, and it soothed you enough that you allowed him to come near, to take your hands in his again. "When I assured you that you would not face this alone, I meant it." 

"B-but the King… the Queen…" It broke you to think that you had failed them as well, after everything they had done for you your entire life. 

"...knew exactly what they were risking by permitting me to come here." He brushed the heel of his palm over your cheek, his thumb catching a stricken tear before it could fall. “They have known far longer than I have, longer than either of us, that my heart has been yours for years. Meleth nin…”

He placed your grotesque, beastly hand on his chest, and you marveled at the strong, steady beat of his heart underneath your misshapen fingers, which did not hurt nearly as much anymore.

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.” 

On the other side of the chamber doors, out in the hall, Elvenqueen Maereth gave her lord husband’s arm a squeeze. “Let us allow them their privacy; they waited so long for this moment,” she whispered. “An hour perhaps, to sort through these revelations.”

Thranduil smiled wryly. “Nothing opens a fool’s blind heart like the terror of loss.” He reached out to wrap an arm around his own beloved. “You are overspent, Endanya. Take your rest. I will send Arvellas to deliver the news to them later.”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

“He will do as he is told,” said Thranduil flatly, giving an impatient shake of his head. “It should be enough to satisfy him that their fates are now surely tied.” He paused, revealing the smallest of cracks in his nonchalance. “Are there concerns of the process being dangerous or painful?”

“It will certainly not be easy. But she is strong,” Maereth said with a faint smile. “And they will be strong for each other.”

“But the cure will work.”

“It may take time, but I have faith it will.” The Queen laced her fingers through Thranduil’s, seeking the comfort she always found in his hands. “If we have learned nothing else these past centuries, aran nin, it is that the Darkness can never prevail against light such as this.”

SotWK Fancast: Sam Claflin (Daisy Jones and The Six) as Prince Gelir Thranduilion

Elves Tag list: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @tamurilofrivendell @guardianofrivendell @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @heranintomyknife23times @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @talkdifferently6

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please sign up here: Tag List Sign-Up.

[aduialel]

This was one of those stories that made my heart break, ache and swell, both in love and sadness. It was heartbreaking to read what she was going through, along with the pining for the prince. And he in turn pining for her. Gelir is so such a wonderful character.

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

So Gelir was bitten too, right!? Ooh, this is going to be so interesting!!

Transformed (Gelir Thranduilion x femReader )

Fanfic Request from the @fellowshipofthefics's AU-gust Mashup Event

Prompt: Gelir, son of Thranduil (SotWK OC) + Mythical creatures + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Summary: A Mirkwood huntress is attacked by a mythical beast and begins a slow and gradual transformation into a monster herself. Prince Gelir helps her through the frightening ordeal by overseeing her care.

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir I am so thrilled (and relieved) that I was finally able to complete one of your requests! Thank you for being so patient with me, and for giving me a chance to finally write an insert starring one of my OC Thranduilions. (How self-indulgent and exciting!) Love you, darling!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: AU, werewolf lore, romance, angst, mild gore, hidden feelings, oblivious to love

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Mild sensuality, mention of blood and mild horror/violence

To Read on AO3: Link

Transformed

Third Age 1554

Mirkwood

Legends had people believing that werewolves could shift from human to lupine form within a matter of minutes at the strike of the full moon. But legends, merely stories passed down across generations by word of mouth, often got certain details wrong. 

As was the case with you. 

The long iron chains that connected the shackles around your wrists to the wall clinked softly as you raised your loosely bound hands to your face. You brushed your fingers over the coarse hair that covered your neck, its growth making the slow, tedious crawl upward to your jawline, where a soft fuzz had developed overnight. By tomorrow, you would likely wake with your cheeks entirely covered in fur…perhaps among other worse changes. 

Heightened senses had manifested first, long before the physical changes began to show, and so the distinctly heady scents of warm rain and spring grass identified your visitor before he ever stepped through the door. But there was also the fact that hardly anyone else had dared to step foot into the same room as you, ever since your condition was identified. Despite folklore attesting that the mysterious affliction could only be transmitted by a creature’s bite, all the other elves were behaving as though merely breathing in the same air would get them infected. 

You were grateful that Gelir had never behaved very much like all the others. Still, the carefree boldness you had always admired in him now worried you.

“You really must stop coming here,” you mumbled, just barely raising your gaze towards him. He was a Prince of Eryn Galen, yes, and the leader of your company besides. But you had known each other for far too long to put on pretenses with each other. "I could lose control of myself any moment now and hurt you."

"You could try to hurt me," he countered with a smirk. "You would not succeed." He folded his arms over his chest and ran his gaze all over you, his unfailingly keen eyes assessing the physical changes that had occurred since his last visit merely a few hours ago. 

You turned away in a futile attempt to escape his stare. Gelir meant well, and was the only one whose concern for you overrode any instinct for self-preservation, the latter of which he never possessed much of, anyway. But even in your weary sadness and pit of despair you were embarrassed about being seen like this, especially by him. Your childhood friend who had always sauntered around oblivious to how annoyingly, stupidly, breathtakingly handsome he was. 

"I am serious," you said sharply, vaguely conscious of the feral rush of anger in your gut, rising into what sounded like a rumbling snarl in your throat. "I will not be responsible for inflicting this curse on the King's son."

"If hurting me is your main concern when you are the one suffering through all this…" Gelir shook his head, his face suddenly and uncharacteristically somber. "Then you are still very much like yourself and I have nothing to worry about."

You sighed and slumped back down on the edge of the bed. King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests. 

A month into the ordeal and they were still tending to you like a guest, changing your bed linens like clockwork, bringing you water and fresh towels to clean yourself with, dropping off three meals a day along with stacks of books and paper and quills to help you pass the time. 

“You have not eaten all day.” Gelir gestured at the untouched dinner tray on the low table. "Nor did you yesterday. Or the day before that."

“I feel no hunger.”

“You must eat,” he said firmly. “Whatever appeals to you, tell me and I will send for it."

"What point is there? Perhaps starving myself is the best and cleanest way to end this mess."

"The point is I will not have you losing hope while the rest of us hold fast. The healers have not ceased tearing into the creature's corpse for answers. Must I remind you that both Arvellas and my mother are leading the efforts to find a cure?"

Tears sprang to the corners of your eyes. Knowing the royal family was devoting their time to helping you really was what kept you going through the moments of despair and self-pity. But it was hard not to question what made you worthy of such attention, even though the King and Queen were well-known for regarding every subject in their kingdom as family. 

The subtle shift of the firm mattress under his weight drew your thoughts to the fact that he had sat down next to you. On impulse, you shrank away to take back the distance that safely separated you from the elf-prince.

Gelir frowned, and you immediately held up both your hands to remind him of how they had gruesomely mutated over the past week. When you first noticed your fingers begin to stiffen at the joints and curl inward to your palms, until it pained you to fully stretch them, that was the first time you broke down sobbing over your condition. The ugly hair that sprouted at unsightly places all over your body to suffocate your skin had bothered you much less. But your hands-- lithe and strong and skilled with bow and knife and craft--those were your treasures. Now they were malformed and good for nothing except perhaps wanton slaughter, the only possible use for the razor-sharp claws that still continued to grow out of each fingertip. 

"I dare not have you within reach of these, your Highness,” you whispered, steeling your face against the threat of another breakdown. “Please."

Unsurprisingly, Gelir defied your plea. He reached out, and before you could resist--yet did you even attempt to?--one of his strong hands closed around your wrist, and he guided the deformed monstrosity to rest against his open palm. You flinched as the points of the claws touched the prince’s skin. 

"I am no delicate flower," Gelir said loudly. He pushed one of the sharp tips into the flesh of his palm, where it found resistance as hard as stone: a warrior’s hand inherited from his great forebears and strengthened by centuries of  training and battle. "And I can protect myself, even from you, no matter what form you take."

The mere thought of attacking him sickened you, and brought your mind back to that dark cave where you had recklessly given chase to an already dying orc. You had been so focused on revenge, on seeking payment for what the filth had done to your comrade, that you did not detect the more dangerous beast lurking in the deep tunnel until it leapt out at you.

Your struggle with the creature lasted a mere few seconds before an arrowhead burst through its eye, forcing its jaws to release your bloodied forearm. Gelir’s enraged scream echoed dreadfully through the cave as he threw the monster off you and ended it with a single swing of his longknife, nearly cleaving its midsection in half. 

Those images sent a shiver down your entire body. You pulled your hands away to wrap your arms around yourself, and stood up to pace alongside the bed. After a moment of Gelir just sitting there quietly watching you wrestle your anxiety, you stopped to face him and blurt out: 

"And when I become too much of a threat, how will you deal with it then? Will you kill me too?"

“Do you feel an urge to attack me?” Gelir rose slowly, keen green eyes searching your face. “Right now, at this moment? Are you overcome by a desire to rip my throat out?”

You stared at him, so handsome and flawless and immaculate a figure, the dream of many an elf in the kingdom. Such beauty and light was so loathed by the Darkness, that any evil festering within you would surely rise to try and destroy him.

But as you stood within arm’s reach of your friend, close enough to inflict serious damage if violent impulses demand it, all you could feel was the same thing you had felt for him since the day he first made you laugh. When you thought you would never laugh again after the raiding orcs claimed your family’s lives. 

“No,” you finally mumbled. “Not at this moment.”  

“Until then, I forbid you from even imagining me harming a hair on your body.” He caught your gaze and smiled. “Even though you certainly have more of it now than you did before.”

Laughter rang clear from your mouth, and went on so heartily and for so long that it blurred your vision and emptied your lungs. By the time you regained your composure, you noticed that Gelir had remained oddly silent the whole time, and returned to staring at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need to.” He exhaled softly, as an archer might to reduce tension in their body before loosing an arrow. “To remind me of why I must speak up now, and delay no longer.” 

The softness with which Gelir spoke your name was so abruptly different from the more common noises of his boisterous shouting and laughter. As noticeably different as a midday summer blaze was from a dawn’s early rays. 

Suddenly you realized how badly your heart was racing, and how loud it must sound to his ears. 

"This ordeal has changed nothing in the way I view you. This… this accident…” The bitterness  of self-hate, a self-blame that you have repeatedly failed to talk him out of, cut through his words. “This threat to you, has only forced me to stare down a truth that I have ignored for too long. Before I do this, I wish to make that clear.”

Your speeding heart came to a sudden halt, as did the world around you. "Before you do what?"

The moment his hands cupped the sides of your face, his fingers threading into your hair, you were trapped. All hesitation, all fears and worries, extinguished like a wavering candle against a sudden gale as his mouth descended on yours. Valar, his lips were so soft. They moved tenderly against yours, confident in their conquest yet pleading for requital. 

And answer it you did. The wild joy and thrill and desire that had long been locked up in a cage of denial within you now broke free, and you kissed your Captain and Prince. You felt the slight tremble of his jaw and heard the faintest of moans from his throat as you deepened the kiss, tasting sweet mead from the sweep of his tongue. 

More. More. You craved more, and a fierce hunger for him exploded from your chest past your torn defenses. 

And suddenly you tasted blood.

With a wail of shock and despair, you withdrew and lurched away from Gelir, watching in horror as he touched the bleeding cut at the center of his lower lip, where you had bitten him.

“Eru what have I done?! I am so sorry, Gelir, I--”

“Stop. It’s all right…” He tried to say, but his calmness in the situation aggravated you. How could it be all right? How could you be so careless with the one you loved?! You tried to withdraw to a corner of the room, to get as far away from him as you could, but the limits of your iron shackles prevented it. 

“I swore I would not let this evil touch you and now I--” You could barely find your words, you were breathing so hard, so infuriated with yourself. 

“And I swore that I would never let anything happen to you,” Gelir cut in heatedly. “Even though it was a vow I made only to myself, I swore. Yet I failed, and this is how I choose to right that wrong.”

He called out to you repeatedly, your name like a hymn on his lips with the warm timbre of his singer’s voice, and it soothed you enough that you allowed him to come near, to take your hands in his again. "When I assured you that you would not face this alone, I meant it." 

"B-but the King… the Queen…" It broke you to think that you had failed them as well, after everything they had done for you your entire life. 

"...knew exactly what they were risking by permitting me to come here." He brushed the heel of his palm over your cheek, his thumb catching a stricken tear before it could fall. “They have known far longer than I have, longer than either of us, that my heart has been yours for years. Meleth nin…”

He placed your grotesque, beastly hand on his chest, and you marveled at the strong, steady beat of his heart underneath your misshapen fingers, which did not hurt nearly as much anymore.

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.” 

On the other side of the chamber doors, out in the hall, Elvenqueen Maereth gave her lord husband’s arm a squeeze. “Let us allow them their privacy; they waited so long for this moment,” she whispered. “An hour perhaps, to sort through these revelations.”

Thranduil smiled wryly. “Nothing opens a fool’s blind heart like the terror of loss.” He reached out to wrap an arm around his own beloved. “You are overspent, Endanya. Take your rest. I will send Arvellas to deliver the news to them later.”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

“He will do as he is told,” said Thranduil flatly, giving an impatient shake of his head. “It should be enough to satisfy him that their fates are now surely tied.” He paused, revealing the smallest of cracks in his nonchalance. “Are there concerns of the process being dangerous or painful?”

“It will certainly not be easy. But she is strong,” Maereth said with a faint smile. “And they will be strong for each other.”

“But the cure will work.”

“It may take time, but I have faith it will.” The Queen laced her fingers through Thranduil’s, seeking the comfort she always found in his hands. “If we have learned nothing else these past centuries, aran nin, it is that the Darkness can never prevail against light such as this.”

SotWK Fancast: Sam Claflin (Daisy Jones and The Six) as Prince Gelir Thranduilion

Elves Tag list: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @tamurilofrivendell @guardianofrivendell @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @heranintomyknife23times @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @talkdifferently6

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please sign up here: Tag List Sign-Up.

[recommend-and-reveiw]

Self indulgent to you? Nana, this is AMAZING, once again, I simp over your OCs in an unhealthy way.

I mean, look at his devotion, and his desperation driven confession, him comforting her... I don't know, maybe it's just the levels of anxiety I've had this past week clinging onto this, but DAMN.

The bonus Thranduil/Mearath moment was perfection, you can see how in lobe they still are after everything, even though they're just caring for (spying on) their son 🤗

Transformed (Gelir Thranduilion x femReader )

Fanfic Request from the @fellowshipofthefics's AU-gust Mashup Event

Prompt: Gelir, son of Thranduil (SotWK OC) + Mythical creatures + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Summary: A Mirkwood huntress is attacked by a mythical beast and begins a slow and gradual transformation into a monster herself. Prince Gelir helps her through the frightening ordeal by overseeing her care.

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir I am so thrilled (and relieved) that I was finally able to complete one of your requests! Thank you for being so patient with me, and for giving me a chance to finally write an insert starring one of my OC Thranduilions. (How self-indulgent and exciting!) Love you, darling!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: AU, werewolf lore, romance, angst, mild gore, hidden feelings, oblivious to love

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Mild sensuality, mention of blood and mild horror/violence

To Read on AO3: Link

Transformed

Third Age 1554

Mirkwood

Legends had people believing that werewolves could shift from human to lupine form within a matter of minutes at the strike of the full moon. But legends, merely stories passed down across generations by word of mouth, often got certain details wrong. 

As was the case with you. 

The long iron chains that connected the shackles around your wrists to the wall clinked softly as you raised your loosely bound hands to your face. You brushed your fingers over the coarse hair that covered your neck, its growth making the slow, tedious crawl upward to your jawline, where a soft fuzz had developed overnight. By tomorrow, you would likely wake with your cheeks entirely covered in fur…perhaps among other worse changes. 

Heightened senses had manifested first, long before the physical changes began to show, and so the distinctly heady scents of warm rain and spring grass identified your visitor before he ever stepped through the door. But there was also the fact that hardly anyone else had dared to step foot into the same room as you, ever since your condition was identified. Despite folklore attesting that the mysterious affliction could only be transmitted by a creature’s bite, all the other elves were behaving as though merely breathing in the same air would get them infected. 

You were grateful that Gelir had never behaved very much like all the others. Still, the carefree boldness you had always admired in him now worried you.

“You really must stop coming here,” you mumbled, just barely raising your gaze towards him. He was a Prince of Eryn Galen, yes, and the leader of your company besides. But you had known each other for far too long to put on pretenses with each other. "I could lose control of myself any moment now and hurt you."

"You could try to hurt me," he countered with a smirk. "You would not succeed." He folded his arms over his chest and ran his gaze all over you, his unfailingly keen eyes assessing the physical changes that had occurred since his last visit merely a few hours ago. 

You turned away in a futile attempt to escape his stare. Gelir meant well, and was the only one whose concern for you overrode any instinct for self-preservation, the latter of which he never possessed much of, anyway. But even in your weary sadness and pit of despair you were embarrassed about being seen like this, especially by him. Your childhood friend who had always sauntered around oblivious to how annoyingly, stupidly, breathtakingly handsome he was. 

"I am serious," you said sharply, vaguely conscious of the feral rush of anger in your gut, rising into what sounded like a rumbling snarl in your throat. "I will not be responsible for inflicting this curse on the King's son."

"If hurting me is your main concern when you are the one suffering through all this…" Gelir shook his head, his face suddenly and uncharacteristically somber. "Then you are still very much like yourself and I have nothing to worry about."

You sighed and slumped back down on the edge of the bed. King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests. 

A month into the ordeal and they were still tending to you like a guest, changing your bed linens like clockwork, bringing you water and fresh towels to clean yourself with, dropping off three meals a day along with stacks of books and paper and quills to help you pass the time. 

“You have not eaten all day.” Gelir gestured at the untouched dinner tray on the low table. "Nor did you yesterday. Or the day before that."

“I feel no hunger.”

“You must eat,” he said firmly. “Whatever appeals to you, tell me and I will send for it."

"What point is there? Perhaps starving myself is the best and cleanest way to end this mess."

"The point is I will not have you losing hope while the rest of us hold fast. The healers have not ceased tearing into the creature's corpse for answers. Must I remind you that both Arvellas and my mother are leading the efforts to find a cure?"

Tears sprang to the corners of your eyes. Knowing the royal family was devoting their time to helping you really was what kept you going through the moments of despair and self-pity. But it was hard not to question what made you worthy of such attention, even though the King and Queen were well-known for regarding every subject in their kingdom as family. 

The subtle shift of the firm mattress under his weight drew your thoughts to the fact that he had sat down next to you. On impulse, you shrank away to take back the distance that safely separated you from the elf-prince.

Gelir frowned, and you immediately held up both your hands to remind him of how they had gruesomely mutated over the past week. When you first noticed your fingers begin to stiffen at the joints and curl inward to your palms, until it pained you to fully stretch them, that was the first time you broke down sobbing over your condition. The ugly hair that sprouted at unsightly places all over your body to suffocate your skin had bothered you much less. But your hands-- lithe and strong and skilled with bow and knife and craft--those were your treasures. Now they were malformed and good for nothing except perhaps wanton slaughter, the only possible use for the razor-sharp claws that still continued to grow out of each fingertip. 

"I dare not have you within reach of these, your Highness,” you whispered, steeling your face against the threat of another breakdown. “Please."

Unsurprisingly, Gelir defied your plea. He reached out, and before you could resist--yet did you even attempt to?--one of his strong hands closed around your wrist, and he guided the deformed monstrosity to rest against his open palm. You flinched as the points of the claws touched the prince’s skin. 

"I am no delicate flower," Gelir said loudly. He pushed one of the sharp tips into the flesh of his palm, where it found resistance as hard as stone: a warrior’s hand inherited from his great forebears and strengthened by centuries of  training and battle. "And I can protect myself, even from you, no matter what form you take."

The mere thought of attacking him sickened you, and brought your mind back to that dark cave where you had recklessly given chase to an already dying orc. You had been so focused on revenge, on seeking payment for what the filth had done to your comrade, that you did not detect the more dangerous beast lurking in the deep tunnel until it leapt out at you.

Your struggle with the creature lasted a mere few seconds before an arrowhead burst through its eye, forcing its jaws to release your bloodied forearm. Gelir’s enraged scream echoed dreadfully through the cave as he threw the monster off you and ended it with a single swing of his longknife, nearly cleaving its midsection in half. 

Those images sent a shiver down your entire body. You pulled your hands away to wrap your arms around yourself, and stood up to pace alongside the bed. After a moment of Gelir just sitting there quietly watching you wrestle your anxiety, you stopped to face him and blurt out: 

"And when I become too much of a threat, how will you deal with it then? Will you kill me too?"

“Do you feel an urge to attack me?” Gelir rose slowly, keen green eyes searching your face. “Right now, at this moment? Are you overcome by a desire to rip my throat out?”

You stared at him, so handsome and flawless and immaculate a figure, the dream of many an elf in the kingdom. Such beauty and light was so loathed by the Darkness, that any evil festering within you would surely rise to try and destroy him.

But as you stood within arm’s reach of your friend, close enough to inflict serious damage if violent impulses demand it, all you could feel was the same thing you had felt for him since the day he first made you laugh. When you thought you would never laugh again after the raiding orcs claimed your family’s lives. 

“No,” you finally mumbled. “Not at this moment.”  

“Until then, I forbid you from even imagining me harming a hair on your body.” He caught your gaze and smiled. “Even though you certainly have more of it now than you did before.”

Laughter rang clear from your mouth, and went on so heartily and for so long that it blurred your vision and emptied your lungs. By the time you regained your composure, you noticed that Gelir had remained oddly silent the whole time, and returned to staring at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need to.” He exhaled softly, as an archer might to reduce tension in their body before loosing an arrow. “To remind me of why I must speak up now, and delay no longer.” 

The softness with which Gelir spoke your name was so abruptly different from the more common noises of his boisterous shouting and laughter. As noticeably different as a midday summer blaze was from a dawn’s early rays. 

Suddenly you realized how badly your heart was racing, and how loud it must sound to his ears. 

"This ordeal has changed nothing in the way I view you. This… this accident…” The bitterness  of self-hate, a self-blame that you have repeatedly failed to talk him out of, cut through his words. “This threat to you, has only forced me to stare down a truth that I have ignored for too long. Before I do this, I wish to make that clear.”

Your speeding heart came to a sudden halt, as did the world around you. "Before you do what?"

The moment his hands cupped the sides of your face, his fingers threading into your hair, you were trapped. All hesitation, all fears and worries, extinguished like a wavering candle against a sudden gale as his mouth descended on yours. Valar, his lips were so soft. They moved tenderly against yours, confident in their conquest yet pleading for requital. 

And answer it you did. The wild joy and thrill and desire that had long been locked up in a cage of denial within you now broke free, and you kissed your Captain and Prince. You felt the slight tremble of his jaw and heard the faintest of moans from his throat as you deepened the kiss, tasting sweet mead from the sweep of his tongue. 

More. More. You craved more, and a fierce hunger for him exploded from your chest past your torn defenses. 

And suddenly you tasted blood.

With a wail of shock and despair, you withdrew and lurched away from Gelir, watching in horror as he touched the bleeding cut at the center of his lower lip, where you had bitten him.

“Eru what have I done?! I am so sorry, Gelir, I--”

“Stop. It’s all right…” He tried to say, but his calmness in the situation aggravated you. How could it be all right? How could you be so careless with the one you loved?! You tried to withdraw to a corner of the room, to get as far away from him as you could, but the limits of your iron shackles prevented it. 

“I swore I would not let this evil touch you and now I--” You could barely find your words, you were breathing so hard, so infuriated with yourself. 

“And I swore that I would never let anything happen to you,” Gelir cut in heatedly. “Even though it was a vow I made only to myself, I swore. Yet I failed, and this is how I choose to right that wrong.”

He called out to you repeatedly, your name like a hymn on his lips with the warm timbre of his singer’s voice, and it soothed you enough that you allowed him to come near, to take your hands in his again. "When I assured you that you would not face this alone, I meant it." 

"B-but the King… the Queen…" It broke you to think that you had failed them as well, after everything they had done for you your entire life. 

"...knew exactly what they were risking by permitting me to come here." He brushed the heel of his palm over your cheek, his thumb catching a stricken tear before it could fall. “They have known far longer than I have, longer than either of us, that my heart has been yours for years. Meleth nin…”

He placed your grotesque, beastly hand on his chest, and you marveled at the strong, steady beat of his heart underneath your misshapen fingers, which did not hurt nearly as much anymore.

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.” 

On the other side of the chamber doors, out in the hall, Elvenqueen Maereth gave her lord husband’s arm a squeeze. “Let us allow them their privacy; they waited so long for this moment,” she whispered. “An hour perhaps, to sort through these revelations.”

Thranduil smiled wryly. “Nothing opens a fool’s blind heart like the terror of loss.” He reached out to wrap an arm around his own beloved. “You are overspent, Endanya. Take your rest. I will send Arvellas to deliver the news to them later.”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

“He will do as he is told,” said Thranduil flatly, giving an impatient shake of his head. “It should be enough to satisfy him that their fates are now surely tied.” He paused, revealing the smallest of cracks in his nonchalance. “Are there concerns of the process being dangerous or painful?”

“It will certainly not be easy. But she is strong,” Maereth said with a faint smile. “And they will be strong for each other.”

“But the cure will work.”

“It may take time, but I have faith it will.” The Queen laced her fingers through Thranduil’s, seeking the comfort she always found in his hands. “If we have learned nothing else these past centuries, aran nin, it is that the Darkness can never prevail against light such as this.”

SotWK Fancast: Sam Claflin (Daisy Jones and The Six) as Prince Gelir Thranduilion

Elves Tag list: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @tamurilofrivendell @guardianofrivendell @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @heranintomyknife23times @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @talkdifferently6

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please sign up here: Tag List Sign-Up.

[coopsgirl]

I can't wait to read this later 😍

Transformed (Gelir Thranduilion x femReader )

Fanfic Request from the @fellowshipofthefics's AU-gust Mashup Event

Prompt: Gelir, son of Thranduil (SotWK OC) + Mythical creatures + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Summary: A Mirkwood huntress is attacked by a mythical beast and begins a slow and gradual transformation into a monster herself. Prince Gelir helps her through the frightening ordeal by overseeing her care.

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir I am so thrilled (and relieved) that I was finally able to complete one of your requests! Thank you for being so patient with me, and for giving me a chance to finally write an insert starring one of my OC Thranduilions. (How self-indulgent and exciting!) Love you, darling!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: AU, werewolf lore, romance, angst, mild gore, hidden feelings, oblivious to love

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Mild sensuality, mention of blood and mild horror/violence

To Read on AO3: Link

Transformed

Third Age 1554

Mirkwood

Legends had people believing that werewolves could shift from human to lupine form within a matter of minutes at the strike of the full moon. But legends, merely stories passed down across generations by word of mouth, often got certain details wrong. 

As was the case with you. 

The long iron chains that connected the shackles around your wrists to the wall clinked softly as you raised your loosely bound hands to your face. You brushed your fingers over the coarse hair that covered your neck, its growth making the slow, tedious crawl upward to your jawline, where a soft fuzz had developed overnight. By tomorrow, you would likely wake with your cheeks entirely covered in fur…perhaps among other worse changes. 

Heightened senses had manifested first, long before the physical changes began to show, and so the distinctly heady scents of warm rain and spring grass identified your visitor before he ever stepped through the door. But there was also the fact that hardly anyone else had dared to step foot into the same room as you, ever since your condition was identified. Despite folklore attesting that the mysterious affliction could only be transmitted by a creature’s bite, all the other elves were behaving as though merely breathing in the same air would get them infected. 

You were grateful that Gelir had never behaved very much like all the others. Still, the carefree boldness you had always admired in him now worried you.

“You really must stop coming here,” you mumbled, just barely raising your gaze towards him. He was a Prince of Eryn Galen, yes, and the leader of your company besides. But you had known each other for far too long to put on pretenses with each other. "I could lose control of myself any moment now and hurt you."

"You could try to hurt me," he countered with a smirk. "You would not succeed." He folded his arms over his chest and ran his gaze all over you, his unfailingly keen eyes assessing the physical changes that had occurred since his last visit merely a few hours ago. 

You turned away in a futile attempt to escape his stare. Gelir meant well, and was the only one whose concern for you overrode any instinct for self-preservation, the latter of which he never possessed much of, anyway. But even in your weary sadness and pit of despair you were embarrassed about being seen like this, especially by him. Your childhood friend who had always sauntered around oblivious to how annoyingly, stupidly, breathtakingly handsome he was. 

"I am serious," you said sharply, vaguely conscious of the feral rush of anger in your gut, rising into what sounded like a rumbling snarl in your throat. "I will not be responsible for inflicting this curse on the King's son."

"If hurting me is your main concern when you are the one suffering through all this…" Gelir shook his head, his face suddenly and uncharacteristically somber. "Then you are still very much like yourself and I have nothing to worry about."

You sighed and slumped back down on the edge of the bed. King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests. 

A month into the ordeal and they were still tending to you like a guest, changing your bed linens like clockwork, bringing you water and fresh towels to clean yourself with, dropping off three meals a day along with stacks of books and paper and quills to help you pass the time. 

“You have not eaten all day.” Gelir gestured at the untouched dinner tray on the low table. "Nor did you yesterday. Or the day before that."

“I feel no hunger.”

“You must eat,” he said firmly. “Whatever appeals to you, tell me and I will send for it."

"What point is there? Perhaps starving myself is the best and cleanest way to end this mess."

"The point is I will not have you losing hope while the rest of us hold fast. The healers have not ceased tearing into the creature's corpse for answers. Must I remind you that both Arvellas and my mother are leading the efforts to find a cure?"

Tears sprang to the corners of your eyes. Knowing the royal family was devoting their time to helping you really was what kept you going through the moments of despair and self-pity. But it was hard not to question what made you worthy of such attention, even though the King and Queen were well-known for regarding every subject in their kingdom as family. 

The subtle shift of the firm mattress under his weight drew your thoughts to the fact that he had sat down next to you. On impulse, you shrank away to take back the distance that safely separated you from the elf-prince.

Gelir frowned, and you immediately held up both your hands to remind him of how they had gruesomely mutated over the past week. When you first noticed your fingers begin to stiffen at the joints and curl inward to your palms, until it pained you to fully stretch them, that was the first time you broke down sobbing over your condition. The ugly hair that sprouted at unsightly places all over your body to suffocate your skin had bothered you much less. But your hands-- lithe and strong and skilled with bow and knife and craft--those were your treasures. Now they were malformed and good for nothing except perhaps wanton slaughter, the only possible use for the razor-sharp claws that still continued to grow out of each fingertip. 

"I dare not have you within reach of these, your Highness,” you whispered, steeling your face against the threat of another breakdown. “Please."

Unsurprisingly, Gelir defied your plea. He reached out, and before you could resist--yet did you even attempt to?--one of his strong hands closed around your wrist, and he guided the deformed monstrosity to rest against his open palm. You flinched as the points of the claws touched the prince’s skin. 

"I am no delicate flower," Gelir said loudly. He pushed one of the sharp tips into the flesh of his palm, where it found resistance as hard as stone: a warrior’s hand inherited from his great forebears and strengthened by centuries of  training and battle. "And I can protect myself, even from you, no matter what form you take."

The mere thought of attacking him sickened you, and brought your mind back to that dark cave where you had recklessly given chase to an already dying orc. You had been so focused on revenge, on seeking payment for what the filth had done to your comrade, that you did not detect the more dangerous beast lurking in the deep tunnel until it leapt out at you.

Your struggle with the creature lasted a mere few seconds before an arrowhead burst through its eye, forcing its jaws to release your bloodied forearm. Gelir’s enraged scream echoed dreadfully through the cave as he threw the monster off you and ended it with a single swing of his longknife, nearly cleaving its midsection in half. 

Those images sent a shiver down your entire body. You pulled your hands away to wrap your arms around yourself, and stood up to pace alongside the bed. After a moment of Gelir just sitting there quietly watching you wrestle your anxiety, you stopped to face him and blurt out: 

"And when I become too much of a threat, how will you deal with it then? Will you kill me too?"

“Do you feel an urge to attack me?” Gelir rose slowly, keen green eyes searching your face. “Right now, at this moment? Are you overcome by a desire to rip my throat out?”

You stared at him, so handsome and flawless and immaculate a figure, the dream of many an elf in the kingdom. Such beauty and light was so loathed by the Darkness, that any evil festering within you would surely rise to try and destroy him.

But as you stood within arm’s reach of your friend, close enough to inflict serious damage if violent impulses demand it, all you could feel was the same thing you had felt for him since the day he first made you laugh. When you thought you would never laugh again after the raiding orcs claimed your family’s lives. 

“No,” you finally mumbled. “Not at this moment.”  

“Until then, I forbid you from even imagining me harming a hair on your body.” He caught your gaze and smiled. “Even though you certainly have more of it now than you did before.”

Laughter rang clear from your mouth, and went on so heartily and for so long that it blurred your vision and emptied your lungs. By the time you regained your composure, you noticed that Gelir had remained oddly silent the whole time, and returned to staring at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need to.” He exhaled softly, as an archer might to reduce tension in their body before loosing an arrow. “To remind me of why I must speak up now, and delay no longer.” 

The softness with which Gelir spoke your name was so abruptly different from the more common noises of his boisterous shouting and laughter. As noticeably different as a midday summer blaze was from a dawn’s early rays. 

Suddenly you realized how badly your heart was racing, and how loud it must sound to his ears. 

"This ordeal has changed nothing in the way I view you. This… this accident…” The bitterness  of self-hate, a self-blame that you have repeatedly failed to talk him out of, cut through his words. “This threat to you, has only forced me to stare down a truth that I have ignored for too long. Before I do this, I wish to make that clear.”

Your speeding heart came to a sudden halt, as did the world around you. "Before you do what?"

The moment his hands cupped the sides of your face, his fingers threading into your hair, you were trapped. All hesitation, all fears and worries, extinguished like a wavering candle against a sudden gale as his mouth descended on yours. Valar, his lips were so soft. They moved tenderly against yours, confident in their conquest yet pleading for requital. 

And answer it you did. The wild joy and thrill and desire that had long been locked up in a cage of denial within you now broke free, and you kissed your Captain and Prince. You felt the slight tremble of his jaw and heard the faintest of moans from his throat as you deepened the kiss, tasting sweet mead from the sweep of his tongue. 

More. More. You craved more, and a fierce hunger for him exploded from your chest past your torn defenses. 

And suddenly you tasted blood.

With a wail of shock and despair, you withdrew and lurched away from Gelir, watching in horror as he touched the bleeding cut at the center of his lower lip, where you had bitten him.

“Eru what have I done?! I am so sorry, Gelir, I--”

“Stop. It’s all right…” He tried to say, but his calmness in the situation aggravated you. How could it be all right? How could you be so careless with the one you loved?! You tried to withdraw to a corner of the room, to get as far away from him as you could, but the limits of your iron shackles prevented it. 

“I swore I would not let this evil touch you and now I--” You could barely find your words, you were breathing so hard, so infuriated with yourself. 

“And I swore that I would never let anything happen to you,” Gelir cut in heatedly. “Even though it was a vow I made only to myself, I swore. Yet I failed, and this is how I choose to right that wrong.”

He called out to you repeatedly, your name like a hymn on his lips with the warm timbre of his singer’s voice, and it soothed you enough that you allowed him to come near, to take your hands in his again. "When I assured you that you would not face this alone, I meant it." 

"B-but the King… the Queen…" It broke you to think that you had failed them as well, after everything they had done for you your entire life. 

"...knew exactly what they were risking by permitting me to come here." He brushed the heel of his palm over your cheek, his thumb catching a stricken tear before it could fall. “They have known far longer than I have, longer than either of us, that my heart has been yours for years. Meleth nin…”

He placed your grotesque, beastly hand on his chest, and you marveled at the strong, steady beat of his heart underneath your misshapen fingers, which did not hurt nearly as much anymore.

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.” 

On the other side of the chamber doors, out in the hall, Elvenqueen Maereth gave her lord husband’s arm a squeeze. “Let us allow them their privacy; they waited so long for this moment,” she whispered. “An hour perhaps, to sort through these revelations.”

Thranduil smiled wryly. “Nothing opens a fool’s blind heart like the terror of loss.” He reached out to wrap an arm around his own beloved. “You are overspent, Endanya. Take your rest. I will send Arvellas to deliver the news to them later.”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

“He will do as he is told,” said Thranduil flatly, giving an impatient shake of his head. “It should be enough to satisfy him that their fates are now surely tied.” He paused, revealing the smallest of cracks in his nonchalance. “Are there concerns of the process being dangerous or painful?”

“It will certainly not be easy. But she is strong,” Maereth said with a faint smile. “And they will be strong for each other.”

“But the cure will work.”

“It may take time, but I have faith it will.” The Queen laced her fingers through Thranduil’s, seeking the comfort she always found in his hands. “If we have learned nothing else these past centuries, aran nin, it is that the Darkness can never prevail against light such as this.”

SotWK Fancast: Sam Claflin (Daisy Jones and The Six) as Prince Gelir Thranduilion

Elves Tag list: @quickslvxrr @laneynoir @auttumnsayshi @achromaticerebus @tamryniel @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @blueberryrock @aduialel @scyllas-revenge @glassgulls @ladyweaslette @tamurilofrivendell @guardianofrivendell @asianbutnotjapanese @ratsys @conversacomsmaug @lemonivall @lathalea @heilith @absentmindeduniverse @heranintomyknife23times @entishramblings @stormchaser819 @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @freshalmondpandadonut @beekieboo @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @talkdifferently6

For more of my stories, please see My Masterlist.

If you would like to be added to my tag list, please sign up here: Tag List Sign-Up.

[lathalea]

This was such an exciting story to read! I had no idea how it would end and it did not disappoint; I really liked how you tackled this issue. And we got a glimpse of Thranduil as an understanding father and his wise wife 😍 Also, my little nerdy heart immensely enjoyed the fact that you added a date at the beginning that helped me place it in the chronology of Middle Earth 💙💙💙

Transformed (Gelir Thranduilion x femReader )

Fanfic Request from the @fellowshipofthefics's AU-gust Mashup Event

Prompt: Gelir, son of Thranduil (SotWK OC) + Mythical creatures + “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Summary: A Mirkwood huntress is attacked by a mythical beast and begins a slow and gradual transformation into a monster herself. Prince Gelir helps her through the frightening ordeal by overseeing her care.

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir I am so thrilled (and relieved) that I was finally able to complete one of your requests! Thank you for being so patient with me, and for giving me a chance to finally write an insert starring one of my OC Thranduilions. (How self-indulgent and exciting!) Love you, darling!

Word count: 2.4k

Content: AU, werewolf lore, romance, angst, mild gore, hidden feelings, oblivious to love

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Mild sensuality, mention of blood and mild horror/violence

To Read on AO3: Link

Transformed

Third Age 1554

Mirkwood

Legends had people believing that werewolves could shift from human to lupine form within a matter of minutes at the strike of the full moon. But legends, merely stories passed down across generations by word of mouth, often got certain details wrong. 

As was the case with you. 

The long iron chains that connected the shackles around your wrists to the wall clinked softly as you raised your loosely bound hands to your face. You brushed your fingers over the coarse hair that covered your neck, its growth making the slow, tedious crawl upward to your jawline, where a soft fuzz had developed overnight. By tomorrow, you would likely wake with your cheeks entirely covered in fur…perhaps among other worse changes. 

Heightened senses had manifested first, long before the physical changes began to show, and so the distinctly heady scents of warm rain and spring grass identified your visitor before he ever stepped through the door. But there was also the fact that hardly anyone else had dared to step foot into the same room as you, ever since your condition was identified. Despite folklore attesting that the mysterious affliction could only be transmitted by a creature’s bite, all the other elves were behaving as though merely breathing in the same air would get them infected. 

You were grateful that Gelir had never behaved very much like all the others. Still, the carefree boldness you had always admired in him now worried you.

“You really must stop coming here,” you mumbled, just barely raising your gaze towards him. He was a Prince of Eryn Galen, yes, and the leader of your company besides. But you had known each other for far too long to put on pretenses with each other. "I could lose control of myself any moment now and hurt you."

"You could try to hurt me," he countered with a smirk. "You would not succeed." He folded his arms over his chest and ran his gaze all over you, his unfailingly keen eyes assessing the physical changes that had occurred since his last visit merely a few hours ago. 

You turned away in a futile attempt to escape his stare. Gelir meant well, and was the only one whose concern for you overrode any instinct for self-preservation, the latter of which he never possessed much of, anyway. But even in your weary sadness and pit of despair you were embarrassed about being seen like this, especially by him. Your childhood friend who had always sauntered around oblivious to how annoyingly, stupidly, breathtakingly handsome he was. 

"I am serious," you said sharply, vaguely conscious of the feral rush of anger in your gut, rising into what sounded like a rumbling snarl in your throat. "I will not be responsible for inflicting this curse on the King's son."

"If hurting me is your main concern when you are the one suffering through all this…" Gelir shook his head, his face suddenly and uncharacteristically somber. "Then you are still very much like yourself and I have nothing to worry about."

You sighed and slumped back down on the edge of the bed. King Thranduil had decided you would be kept comfortable in a palace room instead of the safer and more practical choice of a dungeon cell. The cells are for prisoners, he said sternly, and would abide no more of your protests. 

A month into the ordeal and they were still tending to you like a guest, changing your bed linens like clockwork, bringing you water and fresh towels to clean yourself with, dropping off three meals a day along with stacks of books and paper and quills to help you pass the time. 

“You have not eaten all day.” Gelir gestured at the untouched dinner tray on the low table. "Nor did you yesterday. Or the day before that."

“I feel no hunger.”

“You must eat,” he said firmly. “Whatever appeals to you, tell me and I will send for it."

"What point is there? Perhaps starving myself is the best and cleanest way to end this mess."

"The point is I will not have you losing hope while the rest of us hold fast. The healers have not ceased tearing into the creature's corpse for answers. Must I remind you that both Arvellas and my mother are leading the efforts to find a cure?"

Tears sprang to the corners of your eyes. Knowing the royal family was devoting their time to helping you really was what kept you going through the moments of despair and self-pity. But it was hard not to question what made you worthy of such attention, even though the King and Queen were well-known for regarding every subject in their kingdom as family. 

The subtle shift of the firm mattress under his weight drew your thoughts to the fact that he had sat down next to you. On impulse, you shrank away to take back the distance that safely separated you from the elf-prince.

Gelir frowned, and you immediately held up both your hands to remind him of how they had gruesomely mutated over the past week. When you first noticed your fingers begin to stiffen at the joints and curl inward to your palms, until it pained you to fully stretch them, that was the first time you broke down sobbing over your condition. The ugly hair that sprouted at unsightly places all over your body to suffocate your skin had bothered you much less. But your hands-- lithe and strong and skilled with bow and knife and craft--those were your treasures. Now they were malformed and good for nothing except perhaps wanton slaughter, the only possible use for the razor-sharp claws that still continued to grow out of each fingertip. 

"I dare not have you within reach of these, your Highness,” you whispered, steeling your face against the threat of another breakdown. “Please."

Unsurprisingly, Gelir defied your plea. He reached out, and before you could resist--yet did you even attempt to?--one of his strong hands closed around your wrist, and he guided the deformed monstrosity to rest against his open palm. You flinched as the points of the claws touched the prince’s skin. 

"I am no delicate flower," Gelir said loudly. He pushed one of the sharp tips into the flesh of his palm, where it found resistance as hard as stone: a warrior’s hand inherited from his great forebears and strengthened by centuries of  training and battle. "And I can protect myself, even from you, no matter what form you take."

The mere thought of attacking him sickened you, and brought your mind back to that dark cave where you had recklessly given chase to an already dying orc. You had been so focused on revenge, on seeking payment for what the filth had done to your comrade, that you did not detect the more dangerous beast lurking in the deep tunnel until it leapt out at you.

Your struggle with the creature lasted a mere few seconds before an arrowhead burst through its eye, forcing its jaws to release your bloodied forearm. Gelir’s enraged scream echoed dreadfully through the cave as he threw the monster off you and ended it with a single swing of his longknife, nearly cleaving its midsection in half. 

Those images sent a shiver down your entire body. You pulled your hands away to wrap your arms around yourself, and stood up to pace alongside the bed. After a moment of Gelir just sitting there quietly watching you wrestle your anxiety, you stopped to face him and blurt out: 

"And when I become too much of a threat, how will you deal with it then? Will you kill me too?"

“Do you feel an urge to attack me?” Gelir rose slowly, keen green eyes searching your face. “Right now, at this moment? Are you overcome by a desire to rip my throat out?”

You stared at him, so handsome and flawless and immaculate a figure, the dream of many an elf in the kingdom. Such beauty and light was so loathed by the Darkness, that any evil festering within you would surely rise to try and destroy him.

But as you stood within arm’s reach of your friend, close enough to inflict serious damage if violent impulses demand it, all you could feel was the same thing you had felt for him since the day he first made you laugh. When you thought you would never laugh again after the raiding orcs claimed your family’s lives. 

“No,” you finally mumbled. “Not at this moment.”  

“Until then, I forbid you from even imagining me harming a hair on your body.” He caught your gaze and smiled. “Even though you certainly have more of it now than you did before.”

Laughter rang clear from your mouth, and went on so heartily and for so long that it blurred your vision and emptied your lungs. By the time you regained your composure, you noticed that Gelir had remained oddly silent the whole time, and returned to staring at you.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need to.” He exhaled softly, as an archer might to reduce tension in their body before loosing an arrow. “To remind me of why I must speak up now, and delay no longer.” 

The softness with which Gelir spoke your name was so abruptly different from the more common noises of his boisterous shouting and laughter. As noticeably different as a midday summer blaze was from a dawn’s early rays. 

Suddenly you realized how badly your heart was racing, and how loud it must sound to his ears. 

"This ordeal has changed nothing in the way I view you. This… this accident…” The bitterness  of self-hate, a self-blame that you have repeatedly failed to talk him out of, cut through his words. “This threat to you, has only forced me to stare down a truth that I have ignored for too long. Before I do this, I wish to make that clear.”

Your speeding heart came to a sudden halt, as did the world around you. "Before you do what?"

The moment his hands cupped the sides of your face, his fingers threading into your hair, you were trapped. All hesitation, all fears and worries, extinguished like a wavering candle against a sudden gale as his mouth descended on yours. Valar, his lips were so soft. They moved tenderly against yours, confident in their conquest yet pleading for requital. 

And answer it you did. The wild joy and thrill and desire that had long been locked up in a cage of denial within you now broke free, and you kissed your Captain and Prince. You felt the slight tremble of his jaw and heard the faintest of moans from his throat as you deepened the kiss, tasting sweet mead from the sweep of his tongue. 

More. More. You craved more, and a fierce hunger for him exploded from your chest past your torn defenses. 

And suddenly you tasted blood.

With a wail of shock and despair, you withdrew and lurched away from Gelir, watching in horror as he touched the bleeding cut at the center of his lower lip, where you had bitten him.

“Eru what have I done?! I am so sorry, Gelir, I--”

“Stop. It’s all right…” He tried to say, but his calmness in the situation aggravated you. How could it be all right? How could you be so careless with the one you loved?! You tried to withdraw to a corner of the room, to get as far away from him as you could, but the limits of your iron shackles prevented it. 

“I swore I would not let this evil touch you and now I--” You could barely find your words, you were breathing so hard, so infuriated with yourself. 

“And I swore that I would never let anything happen to you,” Gelir cut in heatedly. “Even though it was a vow I made only to myself, I swore. Yet I failed, and this is how I choose to right that wrong.”

He called out to you repeatedly, your name like a hymn on his lips with the warm timbre of his singer’s voice, and it soothed you enough that you allowed him to come near, to take your hands in his again. "When I assured you that you would not face this alone, I meant it." 

"B-but the King… the Queen…" It broke you to think that you had failed them as well, after everything they had done for you your entire life. 

"...knew exactly what they were risking by permitting me to come here." He brushed the heel of his palm over your cheek, his thumb catching a stricken tear before it could fall. “They have known far longer than I have, longer than either of us, that my heart has been yours for years. Meleth nin…”

He placed your grotesque, beastly hand on his chest, and you marveled at the strong, steady beat of his heart underneath your misshapen fingers, which did not hurt nearly as much anymore.

“Whatever this disease or curse may be, it shall take neither of us, or both of us. But it will not take you from me.” 

On the other side of the chamber doors, out in the hall, Elvenqueen Maereth gave her lord husband’s arm a squeeze. “Let us allow them their privacy; they waited so long for this moment,” she whispered. “An hour perhaps, to sort through these revelations.”

Thranduil smiled wryly. “Nothing opens a fool’s blind heart like the terror of loss.” He reached out to wrap an arm around his own beloved. “You are overspent, Endanya. Take your rest. I will send Arvellas to deliver the news to them later.”

Knowing it was fruitless to argue, Maereth allowed her husband to lead her in the direction of their rooms. “Gelir will likely insist on us testing the cure on him first, but it will be more effectively done on her, with her symptoms being so much further along…”

“He will do as he is told,” said Thranduil flatly, giving an impatient shake of his head. “It should be enough to satisfy him that their fates are now surely tied.” He paused, revealing the smallest of cracks in his nonchalance. “Are there concerns of the process being dangerous or painful?”

“It will certainly not be easy. But she is strong,” Maereth said with a faint smile. “And they will be strong for each other.”

“But the cure will work.”

“It may take time, but I have faith it will.” The Queen laced her fingers through Thranduil’s, seeking the comfort she always found in his hands. “If we have learned nothing else these past centuries, aran nin, it is that the Darkness can never prevail against light such as this.”

SotWK Fancast: Sam Claflin (Daisy Jones and The Six) as Prince Gelir Thranduilion

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[aduialel]

The big brother love and protectiveness. 🥰 Gelir is so wonderful and cheeky.

Unnecessary Guardian (Legolas x FReader fluff drabble)

Summary: Legolas insists on secretly guarding his dear friend on her first patrols as a new Mirkwood Spider Hunter. (A/N: Reader does not actually appear in the story, but is alluded to as "She".)

Prompt: Story inspired by the Anonymous share received below:

Word count: 790

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluffy implied romance, brotherly banter and ribbing, OC Mirkwood Prince, Feren

Warnings: None

To Read on AOC: Link

Dedication: For Anon: Thank you for inspiring me to write my first-ever drabble! I hope your job training continues to go well, and that having Legolas as your imaginary guardian gives you strength and confidence. <3

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Unnecessary Guardian

Third Age 1254 Spring

Mirkwood

“It will be the last time I ask this favor, brother. I swear it,” insisted Legolas, twisting his body to narrowly avoid collision with a hunter ducking back out of the crowded armory shed. 

Gelir rolled his eyes as he yanked a sheaf of arrows from the weapons rack and slid it into his leather quiver. “And last week, you swore it would be the one and only time.” With the younger prince stubbornly on his tail, he marched out to the assembly grounds, where over half of his unit had already gathered.  

"I misjudged how long my protection would be needed."

“Needed?” Gelir barked a laugh as he strapped on the last of his gear. “If your conclusion from that patrol is that she needs anyone to protect her, then you must not have been watching very carefully. And that, honeg, would only render your gallant services even more unnecessary.”

Protests died on Legolas’s lips, silenced by the truth. His mind flashed back on the memories of that first attack, when a spider the size of an aurochs charged at your party from an underground lair. He had been following high above in the trees, as close as he could get without defying Gelir’s orders. He barely had a chance to raise his bow before your arrow found its mark dead center in the spider’s cluster of eyes. Hit in its most vulnerable spot, the creature collapsed writhing, leaving it to be finished off easily by the knives of your comrades. 

“She outshot Feren at the range yesterday,” Gelir said, snapping Legolas out of his daze and making him wonder if his brother had snuck into his thoughts. The prince grinned and brandished two fingers at another hunter standing within earshot. “Twice.”

“Two times out of five rounds,” Feren called out with a shrug. “I got her in three.”

“Still a worthy achievement, from previously never being able to best you,” Gelir hollered over at his second-in-command. “She is learning and growing by leaps and bounds. I for one am eager to see how quickly she will rise in rank.

“Well, she should be arriving any second now,” Feren interjected, throwing a pointed glance at Legolas. “I would suggest heading off, unless you are willing to answer what I can only assume would be a string of uncomfortable questions should she find you here."

Legolas grabbed Gelir’s arm before he could walk away to join his unit. “Please.”

Something in the tone of his voice must have moved the older prince, because he stopped short to study him for a long pause. “All right,” Gelir finally said. “You may come along, like a sneaky little stowaway. Again.”

He tutted and held up a hand as Legolas’s expression cracked into a jubilant smile. “But only IF you admit that you are doing this not for her, but for you.” The Captain of the Spiderhunters grinned and clapped a hand on his arm. “Your attempts to feed me such frail lies is just insulting now, honeg. Solid, convincing lies, those I can respect. But this one is weak.”

Legolas raised his chin and fought vainly against the flush creeping up his neck.  

“I believe she benefits from having me--”

“Tsk, no. Try again.”

Legolas hissed and turned away, clutching his head in frustration. Gelir was not one to magnanimously let an opportunity like this pass, not when he had him cornered like desperate prey. Any moment now, you were likely to appear at the clearing, and he would be caught without an excuse for being all this way across the kingdom, so far from the Elvenking’s Halls where his duties lay. 

Legolas let out a slow, deep breath, then drew it slowly back in. “I…care about her,” he mumbled grudgingly, but as he released these words, a hard knot in his chest seemed to loosen with it. “I just want… I need to know she will not come to harm out there.”

At last, a smile that actually looked proud and sympathetic flickered on Gelir’s face. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed his brother by the sides of his face and lightly knocked his forehead against his. Then just as quickly, he gripped him by the shoulders and gave him an affectionate little shake. 

"Be more careful about staying out of sight. Only Feren and I are wise to this and we will cover for you if need be, but do not make it harder for us by inviting suspicion.”

“Annon allen. I am in your debt,” vowed Legolas, already backing away and preparing to make himself scarce.

Gelir laughed and waved him off. “You are still a fool! But that is a problem I shall help you fix another time.”

Tag List: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @heilith @laneynoir @quickslvxr @achromaticerebus @auttumnsayshi @tamryniel @legoriel-fan

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Requests are open! Please check my Guidelines and send an Ask.

[laneynoir]

MEEP- I LOVE!

Poor shy little elf boy XD and his brothers teasing but not to the point of cruelty? Mah Heart Nanath-

Unnecessary Guardian (Legolas x FReader fluff drabble)

Summary: Legolas insists on secretly guarding his dear friend on her first patrols as a new Mirkwood Spider Hunter. (A/N: Reader does not actually appear in the story, but is alluded to as "She".)

Prompt: Story inspired by the Anonymous share received below:

Word count: 790

Rating: General Audience

Content: Fluffy implied romance, brotherly banter and ribbing, OC Mirkwood Prince, Feren

Warnings: None

To Read on AOC: Link

Dedication: For Anon: Thank you for inspiring me to write my first-ever drabble! I hope your job training continues to go well, and that having Legolas as your imaginary guardian gives you strength and confidence. <3

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Unnecessary Guardian

Third Age 1254 Spring

Mirkwood

“It will be the last time I ask this favor, brother. I swear it,” insisted Legolas, twisting his body to narrowly avoid collision with a hunter ducking back out of the crowded armory shed. 

Gelir rolled his eyes as he yanked a sheaf of arrows from the weapons rack and slid it into his leather quiver. “And last week, you swore it would be the one and only time.” With the younger prince stubbornly on his tail, he marched out to the assembly grounds, where over half of his unit had already gathered.  

"I misjudged how long my protection would be needed."

“Needed?” Gelir barked a laugh as he strapped on the last of his gear. “If your conclusion from that patrol is that she needs anyone to protect her, then you must not have been watching very carefully. And that, honeg, would only render your gallant services even more unnecessary.”

Protests died on Legolas’s lips, silenced by the truth. His mind flashed back on the memories of that first attack, when a spider the size of an aurochs charged at your party from an underground lair. He had been following high above in the trees, as close as he could get without defying Gelir’s orders. He barely had a chance to raise his bow before your arrow found its mark dead center in the spider’s cluster of eyes. Hit in its most vulnerable spot, the creature collapsed writhing, leaving it to be finished off easily by the knives of your comrades. 

“She outshot Feren at the range yesterday,” Gelir said, snapping Legolas out of his daze and making him wonder if his brother had snuck into his thoughts. The prince grinned and brandished two fingers at another hunter standing within earshot. “Twice.”

“Two times out of five rounds,” Feren called out with a shrug. “I got her in three.”

“Still a worthy achievement, from previously never being able to best you,” Gelir hollered over at his second-in-command. “She is learning and growing by leaps and bounds. I for one am eager to see how quickly she will rise in rank.

“Well, she should be arriving any second now,” Feren interjected, throwing a pointed glance at Legolas. “I would suggest heading off, unless you are willing to answer what I can only assume would be a string of uncomfortable questions should she find you here."

Legolas grabbed Gelir’s arm before he could walk away to join his unit. “Please.”

Something in the tone of his voice must have moved the older prince, because he stopped short to study him for a long pause. “All right,” Gelir finally said. “You may come along, like a sneaky little stowaway. Again.”

He tutted and held up a hand as Legolas’s expression cracked into a jubilant smile. “But only IF you admit that you are doing this not for her, but for you.” The Captain of the Spiderhunters grinned and clapped a hand on his arm. “Your attempts to feed me such frail lies is just insulting now, honeg. Solid, convincing lies, those I can respect. But this one is weak.”

Legolas raised his chin and fought vainly against the flush creeping up his neck.  

“I believe she benefits from having me--”

“Tsk, no. Try again.”

Legolas hissed and turned away, clutching his head in frustration. Gelir was not one to magnanimously let an opportunity like this pass, not when he had him cornered like desperate prey. Any moment now, you were likely to appear at the clearing, and he would be caught without an excuse for being all this way across the kingdom, so far from the Elvenking’s Halls where his duties lay. 

Legolas let out a slow, deep breath, then drew it slowly back in. “I…care about her,” he mumbled grudgingly, but as he released these words, a hard knot in chest seemed to loosen with it. “I just want… I need to know she will not come to harm out there.”

At last, a smile that actually looked proud and sympathetic flickered on Gelir’s face. Reaching out with both hands, he grabbed his brother by the sides of his face and lightly knocked his forehead against his. Then just as quickly, he gripped him by the shoulders and gave him an affectionate little shake. 

"Be more careful about staying out of sight. Only Feren and I are wise to this and we will cover for you if need be, but do not make it harder for us by inviting suspicion.”

“Annon allen. I am in your debt,” vowed Legolas, already backing away and preparing to make himself scarce.

Gelir laughed and waved him off. “You are still a fool! But that is a problem I shall help you fix another time.”

Tag List: @aduialel @fizzyxcustard @heilith @laneynoir @quickslvxr @achromaticerebus @auttumnsayshi @tamryniel @legoriel-fan

To join my tag list, please fill out this FORM.

For more stories, please see My Masterlist.

Requests are open! Please check my Guidelines and send an Ask.