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entishramblings · 3 years

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The Restricted Section [Legolas X Reader]

A.N: hey guys! sO I ended up getting like super into this one-shot and it got a little off track but I feel as if it still matches up to the request! Also I do lowkey mention some “first age lore” but I pulled it out of my ass.....just go with it tho it’s fanfiction lol

Request: Anon — I've been seeing your AMAZING writing pop up on my dash and I love it!!!! If you're not too busy (and no pressure at all to write this in a timely manner), could you possibly write a short one-shot of Legolas' reaction to unexpectedly finding someone sketching him? Bonus points if the sketch is really good, and EXTRA bonus points (and digital cookies!!) if he secretly has a crush on the person sketching? Again, no pressure!!!

Pairing: Legolas X Reader

Summary: (Y/N) is Greenwood’s library archivist. Legolas comes to do some research. goddamn why does this summary sound dirty??

Word Count: 2,840

Warnings: none

(gif not mine)

MASTERLIST

Being Greenwood’s Archivist for the thousands upon thousands of treasured papers, scrolls, and books did have its perks one could say. (Y/N) not only wanted to be immersed in the secrets and stories of the world, but she was required to. She spent much of her time reading and cataloguing—not that she minded considering the knowledge she had obtained was vast and fruitful. Furthermore, she was basically permitted to do whatever she wished given that she only had to give reports to the King every couple of weeks. This left her with much appreciated free time.

Currently, the Greenwood castle was hushed as every elf was sound asleep, basking in their own dreams and memories, well...almost every elf. (Y/N) was wide awake. Her favorite time of the solar cycle was the silent hours of the night; because, here in the darkness of the sky, there was nothing more enticing than being alone in the vast silence of written secrets—especially when no one was around to catch you sneaking a peek in the restricted section.

(Y/N)’s preferred spot in the library was a very specific little nook for a handful of reasons. First of all, it was lined with tall shelves filled with different volumes and ledgers that created a private and secluded feeling. Furthermore, the lucky position of these paper-filled towers allowed for a clear eye-line to the main area of the library—an eye-line that could not be seen from outside the special little cranny. This, of course, was perfect for handling prohibited materials. Lastly, she was adjacent to a large stone fireplace where light and warmth were compelled to pour into her form. (Y/N) appreciated this, especially during the coldness of the winter months.

So here Greenwood’s Archivist sat, curled into a dark cushioned armchair within a shrouded crevice of the Library, sketching the forbidden monsters from first age lore.

The faint scrapping sound of charcoal against yellowing paper faded into the crackling of the flames while (Y/N) skillfully manipulated the material in her small, leather-bound, sketchbook. Every so often, she would pause to take a sip from the tea cup that she placed on one of bookshelves. The flavor of the warm liquid melded into the woman’s mouth; the taste of ginger and cloves folded around her tongue and initiated a warm sensation throughout her body. She really did feel at peace in this moment, cloaked in the secrets of the night.

However, that tranquility was reshaped into alarm at the sound of the large wooden doors creaking open. (Y/N) stopped her sketching and cautiously peeked through the shelves. Her lips parted and her brows furrowed when her eyes rested on the intruder.

What could the Prince of Greenwood want from the library at this hour?

(Y/N)’s eyes widened when yet another thought crossed her mind.

What would the Prince of Greenwood do if he saw a book—a restricted book—in her grasp?

Quietly, the archivist tucked the dusty green volume under the armchair and turned her sketchbook to an unmarked page. But, before she started sketching something new, her curiousness compelled her to watch the Prince.

(Y/N) smiled softly as Legolas’s calloused hand gently stroked the leather spins of every book as he strolled through the aisles. His brilliant blue eyes wandered across each title, clearly searching for something. His dark brows furrowed when he reached the end of the shelf, apparently not finding what he had been looking for. The Prince continued weaving his way between stacks of books until he was directly on the other side of (Y/N)’s shelf.

The young woman held her breath as her heart pounded.

What if he caught her in here?

She inwardly chided herself. Why would she—the archivist—get in trouble for being in the library? This was her domain, her job. Her anxieties were completely unrational.

(Y/N)’s frantic thoughts froze when one of the books began to slide away.

Still unaware of her presence, Legolas opened it to read the text on the first page. It seemed that he was content with his selection for he turned on his heal. The Prince made his was to the center of the library and sat down at one of the tables that was lit with candlelight.

After a couple moments, (Y/N) quietly stood up and walked towards the shelf. She laid her hand on the now spacious gap. The young woman frowned. He had taken a book on forestry—the sickness index. Was there something going on within the trees of her home?

Deciding to push her concerns aside, for now that is, she snuggled back into the comfort of the armchair.

From her position she was able to see the elvish prince clearly.

A little grin stretched across (Y/N)’s lips. She picked up her charcoal once more and began to sketch the outline of his form. As time went on, she shaded in the curves of his jaw, the bend of his lip, and the scowl upon his brow. It was coming together quite nicely.

She did not know how much time had past, but when she looked up from her sketch Legolas was gone. (Y/N) tilted her head slightly in confusion.

She was just looking at him.

He wouldn’t leave a burning candle and opened book unattended, would he?

The sound of paper-filled leather sliding from the shelf behind her made the archivist turn quickly. The person on the other side had sensed her movement and peaked through the hole where the book had previously rested.

“My apologies, Archivist (Y/N). I knew not that you were here.”

The young woman stuttered out a response, “Oh um, it is alright, My Prince. I....I...was just—

A smirk pulled at his pink lips when his gaze landed on her open sketchbook. “Is that me?” He questioned.

(Y/N) cheeks began to heat as she slammed the sketchbook closed, “No.”

He raised an eyebrow before walking around the tower of books that was between them.

When he entered the tiny nook he looked around at her set up—stacks of many books and ledgers piled high upon the floor, a thick blanket dangling off the armchair, and a hot cup of tea upon one of the shelves.

“I almost forgot about this space. It’s quite cozy with the fire, is it not?” He said.

Legolas made his was towards her and gently held out his hand. Nodding at the leather-bound sketchbook, he spoke, “May I?”

She couldn’t exactly refuse the Prince, now could she?

Wordlessly she passed it to him.

Ever so carefully he began to flip through the pages—birds, horses, forestry, flowers, creeks, pillars, stones, and, of course, people. There were a handful of sketches of elves that he recognized as maids and servants—likely her friends, he guessed. Additionally, there was a fair amount of pictures of the guards and even one of his father. The coroner of his lip pulled upwards again when he found one of himself, and another, and another. His expression then changed to surprised amusement at what looked to be a demon. Strange. He shot her a playful look and by her reaction he was sure she knew which sketch he was looking at. Legolas continued studying the charcoal art pieces until he turned to last marked page—to the one she had just completed: him.

“These are quite good, (Y/N). Have you ever considered abandoning the library for art?”

“Well, no. It is just a hobby of mine, I suppose.”

He nodded and handed the sketchbook back to her, “And the demon?”

“Ahh yes....um, well....”

She glanced down at the floor as she stuttered. Anxiety flashed across her eyes at the sight of the corner of the green volume peaking out. She kicked it under the chair quickly.

However, her action did not escape the observation of the Prince. Yet again, he raised a brow.

Legolas knelt down and tugged the book out. He read the title aloud, “First Age Index, Volume IV. Morgoth’s Experimentation.” A deep chuckle escaped Legolas’s chest, which of course was not the reaction (Y/N) had been expecting. The Prince spoke again, clearly entertained by the situation. “Let me guess—from the restricted section.”

“Of course not!”

Legolas stifled a laugh. “(Y/N)?”

“Hmm?” She responded while avoiding his gaze.

“You are a terrible liar.”

The young woman looked up at him, “I—I am not!”

Legolas rolled his eyes. However, the playful expression faltered and his face instantly melted into what looked to be a sudden realization.

He swiftly stood up and tapped his palm against the cover of the book. “Does the restricted section have lore on earth sickness and forest disease from the first and second age?”

“I—erm...I haven’t been in the restricted section, My Lord,” she stammered.

He shook his head, “Again, (Y/N). You are a terrible liar.”

She sighed in defeat before speaking reluctantly, “It does.”

“Take me to it.”

The Archivist led him towards the gated shadow-ridden corridor and stood still.

Legolas offered her a sideways glance.

She sighed; now her days of browsing the forbidden knowledge were over.

(Y/N) pressed her finger against the lock and slammed a closed fist on the latch. It instantly creaked open.

The Prince’s eyes shown with amusement but she just shrugged and stepped through the gate.

He was enjoying this way too much.

They walked into the circular room; light poured in from a high window, showing the dust dancing through the stale air. (Y/N) led him straight to the section he had requested. She then began to pull out books, ledgers, and scrolls; placing them in Legolas’s arms until they were piled high to his chin.

The two then exited the restricted section and (Y/N) locked up the gate once more.

Legolas then followed the young elven woman towards the table he had previous occupied. The Prince carefully set the overflowing stack of knowledge down. He opened one of the books and skimmed the beginning index before speaking.

“Ada (father) did not believe me when I said something has been stirring in our forest. My senses pick up a darkness nearing for the trees have gone silent and the animals run west. Yet, the insects increase—specifically the spiders.”

She frowned.

Interesting. Interesting indeed.

The archivist rocked on her heals for a moment, contemplating asking the question that persisted in her mind. “So, does this mean I am not in trouble for reading the restricted section?”

Legolas shrugged, “What Ada (father) doesn’t know, can’t make him angry. Besides, this is too important.”

(Y/N) hopped up onto the table and sat with her legs dangling over the edge. She grabbed a book from the pile and began reading.

What was making their forest sick?

.....

Legolas and many members of the guard had just arrived back in Greenwood after patrolling the east end of the forest. The Prince sat in the armory ridding himself of the countless weapons that clung to his body. He let his thoughts wander as he did so.

Two months had past since he had come across (Y/N) sketching in the library; and ever since, the two elves had met every night—well every night that Legolas was not on patrol. They had moved from researching at the table to scrutinizing in the comfort of (Y/N)’s favorite crevice of the library. The archivist sat in her leather armchair while the prince rested on the floor, leaning against a bookcase. The space was quite cramped, but he didn’t mind. Besides, it allowed him to study (Y/N) as she sketched and read. He would be lying if he said his heart did not yearn for her.

Additionally, the formality of titles between them was left behind as the two had become quite close. Legolas appreciated this; often many treated him differently because of his royalty, but not (Y/N). Furthermore, no longer was she concerned about the repercussions of reading material from the restricted section. Besides, if Thranduil somehow found out and was to punish her for it, he would have to punish his son.

“Prince Legolas!”

He looked up as his name was called. Legolas offered a warm smile to the guard who spoke. “Meludir, I trust patrol went well for you?”

The dark hair ellon nodded in response. “Are you going to the library after this?”

Legolas shrugged, “Perhaps.”

A light laugh fell from Meludir’s lips, “To see (Y/N)?”

The Prince’s brows furrowed. “Well, she is helping me with some research.”

Meludir smirked, “Research hmm? You are aware there has been some whispers flying around?”

Legolas tilted his head in confusion.

“Well, you spend much time with her. Enough to end up in her sketchbook—on multiple pages.”

The blonde elf bit back a smile. Of course Legolas was aware that during their research (Y/N) would put down the scrolls and ledgers and pick up charcoal and paper; and, quite frankly, he did not mind. But he was unaware of how Meludir knew if this so he opted to ask. “How do you know of her sketches?”

Meludir grinned, “I may have stumbled across it in the library very late one night.” He paused, “You can imagine my surprise when I went to find light reading material but came across the Prince and the Archivist throwing books at each other’s heads.”

Legolas looked down at his dirt ridden boots to hide the smiled that surfaced from that memory.

This of course did not escape Meludir’s gaze. The young ellon chuckled at his superior’s behavior and clapped him on the shoulder. “Best you head over there then.”

.....

The sun had set and the moon had taken its place. Legolas strutted into the library after he had washed up and changed into fresh clothes. He quickly made his way to the little nook filled with all their research.

“(Y/N)?” He questioned when he came to an empty space.

“Over here!”

He whipped his head around to see the young archivist thirty feet up a ladder; she was reaching for a book that rested near the rafters.

She called out to him again, “Come catch this!”

He walked towards her until he stood at the foot of the ladder. (Y/N) then let the heavy book fall through the still air; it landed perfectly in the prince’s waiting hands.

The archivist grasped onto two more books before gracefully climbing down. “Come on then, we must get reading. The sun won’t stop rising for us.”

She plopped down in her armchair and Legolas sat in his usual spot across from her. After a couple hours of endless reading and research, (Y/N) gasped.

“Legolas! I have found it!”

His head shot up, “What?”

“The—the sickness...the darkness. What you have described to me is exactly what a scribe wrote in an old Quenya dialect: Telerin. I’ve been translating it.” She stated as she moved the position of one of the three books in her lap. “It says it right here. Before the rise of Sauron.....animals fleeing, insect population stirring, trees going silent—“ (Y/N) stood up in excitement. “I found it, Legolas! I found it!”

The Prince leapt to his feet. Full of emotion, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her form up. He spun around quickly as little laughs left the woman’s lips.

Legolas set her down, but did not remove his arms from around her waist. “After all this time of researching....you—you did it!” He paused, “You are very brilliant, you know that (Y/N)?”

She shrugged, “Well, I don’t—“

He interrupted her, “You are, (Y/N). You are. You know this library as I know the woods. You were able to make connections between books and scrolls that I never would have seen. You were able to analyze data and translate languages with no trouble. You are incredibly intelligent....and I admire that.”

The young woman’s eyes drew to the floor and her cheeks heated.

“(Y/N)...” Legolas whispered while cupping her chin.

He lifted her face and the air seemed to still between them as their eyes locked.

“Legolas, I—“ She whispered.

He did not let her finish. He gently pressed his pink lips against hers and (Y/N) instantly responded. The earthy smell of dirt and trees filled the archivist’s nostrils as paper and fire filled the prince’s. It was almost hypnotic. As the two let their mouths dance against each other slowly, reality melted away. Legolas pulled her form closer and she obliged. (Y/N) snaked her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his loose blonde locks. The Prince let his hands wander down her back and across her hips, feeling every curve. The young woman could not help but feel a wave of warmth wash over her for she had craved this. The kiss was calm, gentle, and full of innocent love.

When the two reluctantly pulled away for air, (Y/N) rested her head in the crook of his neck.

“Do you know what this means, Legolas?” She whispered.

“You heart craves mine as much as mine craves yours?” He responded quietly.

“Well yes, but no....I meant about the forest. The sickness—it’s darkness. Sauron’s darkness. He is returning.”

.......

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Legolas Tag: @dark-angel-is-back

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write-ur-wrongs · 3 years

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Thank you sweet anon for your request!! Again, I didn’t fully proof-read this bad boy so please forgive the errors! I hope you enjoy some angry Jealous!Geralt!

A/N Request: Geralt meeting your ex who thinks that you're still together/or tries to get you back in front of geralt?

The great hall was alive with royals and nobility alike. Laughter and chatter mingled easily with the sound of the band’s lively jig and the soft tinkering of fine cutlery.

The hosts had expected you and Geralt to make an appearance at dusk, but neither of you were particularly fond of all the fuss royalty liked to put up, so it wasn’t until long past sunset that you joined the party. Jaskier on the other hand, was overjoyed at the prospect of attending such an illustrious affair. He’d put up a fuss around noon and insisted he be allowed to take Roach so that he could arrive in time to make a strong impression with all in attendance. Of course, Geralt had refused, so he had gone off on foot, strutting and sighing dramatically.

Now, as you and Geralt did your best to navigate the already flushed crowd, you found yourself wishing you’d arrived sooner. It was easier to avoid people when they were being stifled by a sobering social awkwardness; after hours of ales and fine wine, however, people seemed to get a little too comfortable for your liking.

“I hate these ridiculous evenings,” Geralt grumbled, holding his arms close to his body uncomfortably.

“Maybe if we saved less lives,” you said, biting back a smile, “they’d be less inclined to insist we attend.”

Geralt only responded with a grunt and a roll of his eyes, which made you laugh lightly as you looped your arm through his and led him deeper into the crowd.

“C’mon love,” you said, a slight tease to your tone, “let’s find the free food and drink we were promised, yeah?”

You laughed again as he fought back a smile. “Atta boy Geralt, don’t smile too much or you’ll ruin your reputation as the big bad wolf.”

“Will you shut up,” he muttered, handing you a goblet of wine.

“I don’t think I will,” you said downing the wine in one go, “and could you hand me an ale?”

“I don’t think I will,” he teased, kissing your temple lightly before handing you his mug to share. You take a slow sip, your eyes twinkling as you held Geralt’s gaze, already feeling the liquor warming you from the inside. You hand him back his drink and kiss him lightly in thanks.

“Do you want to –”

You were both pulled away from your conversation by a loud clang from across the room. Geralt furrowed his brows and turned towards the sound quickly, untangling his arm from yours before reaching for his sword. He immediately relaxed as the familiar shouts and accusations resounded through the hall.

You collectively sighed your frustration as you saw Jaskier get chased into a corner by an angry nobleman; no doubt his latest conquest’s husband, who was not quite as pleased to hear the bard’s dulcet tones.

“It’s your turn,” Geralt said, downing his ale before reaching for a second helping.

“I don’t think so! I’m the one who saved him from that fisherman at the last village! It’s your turn,” you said, poking him in the chest before stealing his mug and holding it away from him.

“Actually,” he said, his low gravelly voice reverberating through you as he leaned across your body to grab his drink from your hand, “it was my turn at the last village, but you just couldn’t help yourself and jumped in to save the day. Rules are rules my dove; it’s your turn.”

You scoffed incredulously at his nerve, but shook your head in resignation; he was right after all, the rules you outlined were clear and the cycling of turns was strict.

“Well fuck. I’m taking this ale though,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder before stalking off towards the commotion.

Geralt chuckled lowly and leaned against a marble pillar, marveling at the way you made your way through the crowd. A wandering waiter came by and offered him another ale which he accepts with a polite smile, not taking his eyes off you.

He loved watching you de-escalate social situations. Sometimes it was comforting to know that he wasn’t the only one who just melted when you spoke to them directly – you were effortlessly charming and completely disarming. You once managed to convince a band of attacking thieves to stand down so efficiently that by the end of the night, they ended up joining you for dinner around the fire. Yes, Geralt was the professional when it came to handling monsters, but you were the people person of the group.

Watching you now was no exception. Your body language, the way your warm smiled reached your eyes with ease, how smoothly you managed put yourself between Jaskier and the furious man; it was impressive to say the least.

Unfortunately, his attention was pulled away from you suddenly.

“I can’t believe Y/N is here tonight, I thought I’d never see her again!”

At the sound of your name, Geralt whipped his head in the direction of the speaker, cat-like eyes scanning the crowd swiftly.

“Yeah, the very same Y/N I’ve told you about. An amazing lay, I swear it!”

The man in question was holding court half a dozen other knights; they kept snickering and looking off at you in turns. They were teasing him, egging him on for details.

“She’s not as sweet as she looks,” the man stated confidently, “don’t let that smile fool you gentlemen. The last time I took her was in an alley! The little whore was mad for it – couldn’t wait for it, needed it right there and then.”

Geralt was fuming.

He pushed his way through the crowd with great force and little care. He was worried about your honour. Your reputation in the courts – that was all. That was enough to explain the way rage seethed through him and the strange urge to be sick that was hitting him in waves. He was concerned for you as a partner and a friend.

He wasn’t jealous.

“Gods her skin… smelled so good, felt even better… I’m getting her back tonight gents,” he boasted, puffing out his chest.

“You don’t have a chance,” said the knight closest to the bastard bragging about shagging you, “it’s been ages since you’ve last seen each other, and if she’s as good as you say, she definitely found someone new.”

Damn right, Geralt thought furiously, swallowing the bile bubbling at the back of his throat.

“No, no, believe me the way she mewled and screamed for me? She’ll do more than remember,” he said, disgusting confidence dripping off every word, “she’ll beg to have me back.”

You’ll beg for mercy when I crush your fucking skull you pathetic –

His murderous march was abruptly interrupted by Jaskier. The bard cut in front of him and planted himself squarely before him, chattering on incomprehensibly.

Geralt’s eyes were bugging out in panic as he watched the bastard strut confidently towards you. He tried to push past Jaskier but the bard was quick to match him in posture.

“Look I know you’re upset with me for ruining your evening but she came after me,” he insisted, “I mean I can’t blame her the song his perhaps my most romantic sonnet. Speaking of my writing – Geralt can you look at me when I am sharing my musings with you, please? Thank you – as I was saying, Y/N inspired me tonight to write this song –”

“Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “move!”

“Wha – why?” Jaskier pivoted on the spot – keeping Geralt’s path blocked – as he sought the source of his friends’ fury. When he saw that you were speaking politely to some knight he scoffed loudly before turning back.

“Oh-ho, no,” he laughed, “you’re jealous of that oaf? Geralt, seriously?”

“I am not jealous,” he spat, only able to look at Jaskier for a moment before his glare shot back up towards you.

“She’s just being polite! Seriously you always assume the worst in people, Geralt, it’s sad.”

“I see people as they are,” he muttered, watching closely as the knight took a half-step towards you, he let out a menacing growl when you didn’t step backwards. “For what they are.”

“Okay then why can’t you see that’s just some poor sap who, I don’t know, maybe wants to thank Y/N for her help in saving this kingdom.”

“Shut up, will you? I’m trying to hear what they’re saying.”

“You don’t need a Witchers’ hearing to know what’s happening over there,” he brambled on putting on voices as he acted out the conversation, “’Hi I’m Y/N’, ‘Hi I’m an unimportant but very grateful knight, pleased to meet you blah blah blah…”

“Fuck, Jaskier, shut UP –” he stopped himself when he heard your laugh, the deep full laugh you normally reserved for him.

Jaskier heard your laugh too, and turned his head to double check he’d heard right. When he saw the familiar twinkle in your eye, he looked Geralt with wide eyes.

“They know each other?” he asked.

“They,” he started, struggling to get the words out, “t-they knew each other.”

“Wait you don’t mean,” Jaskier started, connecting the dots, “that they knew each other intimately?” He wagged his fingers suggestively as he said the last word.

When Geralt’s only reply was a low, seething hum, Jaskier whistled lowly before shaking his head.

“Well that explains,” he waved his hands vaguely at Geralt, “this reaction.”

Geralt was about to shove the bard aside when he saw you waving him over. You were smiling widely as you waved, but it didn’t reach your eyes. He cleared his throat and pushed Jaskier lightly before charging towards you with the bard in tow.

“Ah, finally!” you exclaimed, swiftly wrapping your arms around his bicep, pulling him close, “Geralt, I want you to meet an old friend of mine, Hoeck. Hoeck this is Geralt, my partner,” as you spoke, you moved to loop his arm around your waist, “and this is Jaskier, he’s responsible for the wonderful music tonight.”

“The White Wolf,” said Hoek, sizing Geralt up, “wow - what an honour.”

He hummed in acknowledgement and took the knight’s hand in a tight grip, feeling immense satisfaction watching the man wince.

“And -erm, thank you sir Jaskier, for the wonderful music,” he said, trying and failing to subtly rub at his hand.

“Thank you, good sir. I speaking of, I should get back out there.” He shot you and Geralt a look and swung his lute around his back before strumming a few notes. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You all nodded to him as he strode off, beckoning the band to join him.

An awkward silence settled over the three of you. Geralt was clearly seething as he held your waist in a tighter grasp than necessary. After a beat, you shot Hoek a tight-lipped smile and made up some excuse about needing to say hello to the king and queen before the night came to a close.

“Ah certainly,” he said, disappointment obvious, “well if you ever find yourself in need of company –”

“I won’t,” you said quickly.

“She won’t,” Geralt growled, his deep voice overlapping with yours.

At that, the knight swallowed thickly and walked back towards his group with tail between his legs and his hand held close to his chest.

Once alone, you turned in Geralt’s arms and looked up at his sour face accusingly.

“Why did it take you so long to come rescue me!” you said, tugging playfully at his hair.

“Didn’t look like you wanted to be saved,” he said lowly, eyes still alight with jealousy, “and Jaskier got in my way.”

“That’s a shit excuse and a weak lie. He was all over me! It took all I had not to rip the bastard’s arms off!” you said, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you. “Gods he has some nerve.”

“Hm,” he hissed, “you’re right about that.”

“Geralt,” you looked up at him carefully and gently caressed the crease between his brows, “this is more than jealousy. What’s going on?”

Geralt hesitated before relaxing his face into your hand and took a small sigh. “It’s nothing. And I’m not jealous.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, “Can you look at me? Please?”

Reluctantly, he brought his eyes down to meet yours.

“Thank you,” you said, cupping his face before moving your hands to rest on his chest, “can you talk to me?”

“Don’t be patronizing,” he warned.

“Don’t be obstinate,” you countered.

Geralt rolled his eyes at you before pulling you closer to him. “Maybe I was a little jealous, and maybe,” he sighed deeply, “I was a little worried.”

“Geralt,” you started, your heart breaking at the sight of him, “you have nothing to worry about when it comes to us. I need you to know that.”

“I do,” he said quietly, “but the way he was talking about you – knowing he had been with you in that way...” Geralt stopped himself as he felt his anger come roaring back at the memory. “I wanted to kill him.”

“To be honest, I wouldn’t have been upset with you if you had,” you said, jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little. Your time with Hoek was beyond brief; he was nice enough at first but quickly he became aggressive and possessive. You couldn’t help but cringe when you looked back on your time together and you hated that your beloved witcher was letting this get to him.

“Oh, Geralt,” you murmured when you realized he wasn’t letting up, “I’m yours. Completely and unwaveringly yours.” You kissed his forehead, then his nose, and finally his lips.

He kissed you back slowly at first, but his kiss deepened as you leaned into him. Geralt pulled away just a little and rested his forehead against yours.

“Y/N… I’m – I love you so much…” he whispered, “it’s just… the things he said about you –” he started, hating himself for needing to hear your side of the story.

“Either untrue or exaggerated, that I can promise.”

“Something about an alley…?” Geralt asked, holding his breath.

“Oh ew! That was a terrible night,” you shuddered, “he was so insistent! Wouldn’t take no for an answer – Wait, what was he saying about it? Gods, maybe I’ll kill him.” Anger and humiliation burned at the back of your throat.

Seeing your visceral reaction, Geralt was immediately overcome by feelings of guilt, for making you relive the memory, relief, that your reaction was so negative, and rage, knowing that not only did this pompous ass make forceful advances on you but he always lied about it to a crowd.

Feeling the intensity of your anger radiating off you, Geralt was about to suggest that the two of you left before you did anything you’d regret when Jaskier came running through the crowd shouting that it was time to leave.

You took off running behind the bard, holding Geralt’s hand tightly as you raced down the castle’s corridors.

“Why are we running?” you shouted, a little breathless.

“I might have added a little something to our charming friend’s drink, and he might be having a very intense negative reaction to it!” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck,” you breathed through fits of laughter, “Jaskier!”

“He’ll be fine! Eventually!” he added, he turned and ran backwards so he could shoot you a wink before adding, “No one messes with our girl, right Geralt?”

Geralt rolled his eyes at his friend before he ran up behind you and scooped you up bridal-style – all without breaking his stride.

“Damn right,” he said, smiling widely at Jaskier before planting a quick kiss to your temple.

#geralt of rivia #geralt fanfic #geralt x reader #geralt x y/n #the witcher #the witcher netflix #jealous!geralt #request #fanfic #fanfiction #witcher fic #witcher geralt #witcher x reader #jaskier

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

Focus | Harry x Reader

Prompt requested by anon: As seeker for Ravenclaw, it is your job to focus on the game, not on how cute the Gryffindor seeker is. You know that Harry has a crush on you, so you decide to use it against him during a quidditch match.

Warnings: None! Lots of a flustered Harry :)

Word count: 2.0k

Flirting was not your greatest skill. Sure, you weren’t awful at it, but you were much better at making jokes, or doing well in school, or baking. But flirting was not your special skill. Even when you had a crush on someone, you were never the person who went out of their way to talk to them or flirt with them. Instead, you stuck to the sidelines, observing them and talking to them when you were approached or when it felt natural to strike conversation. Besides, there were many people who were interesting enough for you at Hogwarts.

Well, all except for Harry. He was the Chosen One, yes, so he had that title going for him. But you found how awkward and silly he was particularly adorable. The way that when he talked to you, he’d push his glasses up with his finger, looking down as he did so to not make eye contact with you. How he awkwardly shift side to side when he talked to you, rocking back and forth. Potter was sweet in a boyish way.

Not to mention, you loved watching him play quidditch. The Ravenclaw watched every match, even if it wasn’t their own, in order to study the other team’s strategies and devise a game plan that way. When you watched Harry play, you were in absolute awe of how talented he was on that broom, zipping back and forth, catching the Golden Snitch with what seemed like no effort. He was naturally so talented. Made sense if he was the Chosen One.

You were recently new to the Ravenclaw quidditch team, only being a new addition last year, promoted from Chaser to Seeker. This raised the stakes. The Seeker was a pivotal member of the team and you took a great sense of pride knowing that you team trust you and thought you were talented enough to be the starting Seeker. What brought you anxiety was the fact that you would have to be head to head with Harry in your next match and future matches.

Harry was a skilled quidditch player, but you did have a few tricks up your sleeve. Even though you were committed to playing a fair and fun game, what was stopping you from using your assets to your advantage...Those assets being that you knew Potter has fancied you since year five when he had accidentally spilled pumpkin juice on your Divinations textbook. Why not use that in your favor?

So there you were in the Ravenclaw locker room, changing for the match, thoughts prancing around in your head. You wanted to win this match fairly, but at the same time, a part of you wanted to sneakily use the tricks you had up your sleeve. “What are you smiling about, (Y/L/N)?” your captain, Roger teases. “Something you wanna share with the team?”

The team looks in your direction as your mouth goes dry. Should I tell them? you think. What do I have to lose? They can only say no. “Well,” you start, pulling on your boots. “I happen to have some information that could be valuable to scoring a win today for Ravenclaw,” you shrug as you watch your teammates reactions.

“Well, don’t just keep it to yourself now!” Cho pushes. “What is it?”

The rest of the team chimes in, pushing you to tell them what information you had. You smile and look at them. “Long story short, I know that the Gryffindor seeker has a certain soft spot for yours truly. Maybe it could serve as a distraction..” you trail off, uncertain about how the team would receive it.

Much to your surprise, Roger laughs victoriously, high five-ing the people around him. You see Cho’s expression falter a little, you knew she had a history with Potter. But you gives you a thumbs up. If it meant winning the match, you guys were more than okay with using this information for their benefit. “Alright, no time better than now to prove yourself,” Roger sighs. “How about we, uh, plant the seed, folks?” he asks and you chuckle.

Rising from the bench, you follow Roger’s instructions and leave the locker room, on the hunt to find Potter. It didn’t take to you long, he was in the hallway about to enter back into the Gryffindor locker room when you stopped him. “Harry!” you call out to him with a smile.

Harry flips your way, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “Oh, (Y/N), hi! Uh, what’s up?” he asks, leaning up against the wall, trying to act cool. You saw right through him as he nervously gulped and fixed his glasses, a habit of his.

Smiling, you stand right in front of him. “I wanted to just come out here and wish you good luck. I know we’ll be playing against each other, but why not show some friendly sportsmanship?” you teasingly push his arm as he chuckles. “It’ll be my first game playing as starting Seeker and it’s going to be hard going up against someone as naturally as talented and athletic like you are,” you massage his ego.

This makes Harry blush a deep shade of crimson. “That’s, erm, that’s very kind of you to say,” he clears his throat. “I’m sure you’ll be brilliant.”

Harry tries to leave to enter back into the locker room, but you weren’t done with him yet. You really need to shake him up a little bit before he headed out onto the field with his team. “Do you have any tips?” you call out, making him stop in his tracks and turn back to you. “You know, for my first game out there? I can get,” you take a step towards him, hands brushing, inches apart from each other, “very distracted.”

You nibble on your lower lip, batting your eyes at him as Harry’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush. He gulps and inhales a shaky breath. “I’ve got tips,” he nods his head wildly. “Um,” he stutters, trying to think of something to say as he notices how close you were to him, him trying desperately trying to show restraint from closing the gap in between you two. “Listen to your captain, don’t think too much, and, erm, have fun.”

Smirking, you reply, “Good to know. Thanks, Potter. See you on the field.” You plant a swift kiss to his left cheek, sending him a wink before walking away abruptly, leaving Harry a confused mess as he watched you return back to your locker rom. “Alright,” you huff when you return, everyones’ eyes on you. “Consider the seed planted. Let’s play.”

------

There you were, sat on your broom, eyes laser focused alongside the rest of your team. You felt ready. Victory could very easily belong to Ravenclaw today. As you looked around, all of your teammates gave each other encouraging smiles and thumbs up. You felt great. You did let your eyes glance over to Gryffindor and you snuck a peak at Potter, who looked a bit unsettled. He was cute when he was flustered. You watched as Ginny Weasley asked him if he was alright, you giggling to yourself as Harry looked at you and then looked immediately away when your eyes met. He was distracted. Just like you wanted him to be.

The whistle blew and off you went, zipping through the field. You were a woman on a mission. Get the golden snitch and end this game as simply as possible.

You came to a halt, sitting on your broom still for a moment, as you lost sight of the snitch. “Where’d you go now, eh?” you say to yourself. Not far behind you is Harry, him also losing sight of the snitch. “Look who decided to join the fun,” you tease. Harry tries to ignore your comment keeping your head in the game. “Not never nice to ignore people, Potter. They may end up helping you when you most need it,” you wiggle your brows before the snitch zips past you both.

The two of you look at each other and the dart after the golden snitch which flies at an unearthly pace. You had never flown this fast in your whole life. You and Harry are riding side by side now, him glancing over at you every once in awhile making you laugh, “Eyes on the prize, Potter?” you tease.

“You wish,” Harry teases back before you dash in front of him, cutting him off sharply. “You know more than you let on about, huh,” he refers to your quick and smart quidditch playing.

Shrugging, you retort, “A lady never tells her secrets.” Harry has now cut you off before taking a sharp left, following the snitch outside of the arena. “Merlin,” you breathe as you follow the Gryffindor, not too far behind. Why not have a little fun? you think to yourself. You bump your broom into Harry’s, earning you a look as you laugh. “Loosen up, Potter. It suits you.”

With that, you follow the snitch, taking lead, veering left and right around the arena. You are gaining speed, and you hear below you that Ravenclaw is in the lead by 10 points. You smile to yourself. Victory was so close. It was just in your reach. The snitch was going to be yours.

As you think of victory, Potter has a final trick up his sleeve. Below you, Potter flies, cutting you off sharply, making you veer right so you don’t crash into him. You groan in annoyance. Now he was taking the lead as you tried to catch up to him, but it was far too late.

In one swift motion, Potter grabbed the golden snitch right from the air and the game was over. Without even looking at you, Harry flies back down to his cheering teammates as you silently curse. Disappointed, you fly down to your team who you give apologetic smiles to. They’re disappointed, but not angry with you at all. “You gave it your best shot, (Y/N), and it was a valiant attempt. Especially since it was against Potter,” Roger gives you a side hug as you smile. “You still did brilliantly.”

“Thanks, everyone,” you sigh. “Even though we didn’t win, I’m still ready to go back to the common room. I heard there’s still some leftover fire whisky from last week’s win,” you suggest as everyone laughs and cheers.

Walking back with your team, you think did I just waste that time flirting with Potter for a whole lot of nothing? Before you answer your own question, a voice from behind you speaks up, “(Y/N)!”

You turn around and see Harry jogging to catch up with you. You tell your teammates you’ll meet them inside, earning a few ooohs from a few. “Hi,” you smile.

Harry fixes his glasses on the bridge of his nose, scratching the back of his head before mustering up the courage to do what he was about to do. “I, um, just wanted to say good game,” he chickens out. You sigh, knowing that he wouldn’t do what you hoped he would. You nod your head and turn back around. “Wait!” he stops you before you can go. You raise your brows as if to say Yes? “I, erm...” he trails off. Just do it, Harry. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me...sometime soon. Whenever you are free. I know you’re busy, but I figured I would ask...just in case. But if you don’t want to that’s perfectly fine as well.”

You can’t help but giggle at his rambling which in turn makes him smile. “That sounds nice, Harry. I’d really like that,” you admit with a blush.

“Brilliant,” he beams. “Fantastic. Um, how does this Friday sound?”

“Meet me at seven in the Ravenclaw common room,” you tell him before trotting off with a small smile on your lips.

You may have not won the game, but you just won something so much better.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter imagine #harry potter x ravenclaw!reader #harry potter x reader #harry x reader #harry imagine #harry potter x ravenclaw #harry potter oneshot #harry potter smut #harry potter fandom

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goodmythicalshipping · 5 years

Text

Three Wishes (2/4) - “To Be Free”

Hello there! I hope you’re all having a great week. 😊

I’m back with the second chapter of my latest, Aladdin-themed fanfic! 🧞 Thanks to everyone who has supported it so far, you can read the first chapter if you missed it using the link below. You are also able to read this second chapter, “To Be Free,” on my AO3 page!

Enjoy! - Sage.

Summary: In Pre-Islamic Arabia, a poor street rat, Rhett, struggles to survive in an unforgiving and discriminatory world… that is, until he comes across a rather mythical-looking lamp. Having concealed a deep secret his whole life, his entire world is soon changed forever by a certain bespectacled genie.

<< Chapter One / Chapter Three >>

The neon glow of daybreak shone through the window and made vibrant contact with Rhett’s shut eyelids, forcing them open as the blonde man awoke. Gradually regaining his consciousness, he shifted his gaze to see the blue man once again leaning a mere inches from his face. Rhett shot up, startled.

“Please tell me y’weren’t watchin’ me the whole night,” Rhett carped.

“Fear not, master,” Link replied calmly. “I got bored of watchin’ ya within the first 10 minutes of you fallin’ asleep, and spent the rest of the night countin’ the number of tiles on the floor and lost count at around 10,402. I just wanted to see yer reaction upon wakin’ up.”

“That must’a been quite boring.” Rhett yawned.

“Hey, desperate times call for desperate measures,” he answered. “How’d ya sleep?”

“Fine, I suppose. Could be better given our surroundings.”

“Well, we could change that right now! Have ya decided what you’d like yer first wish to be?”

Rhett regrouped himself, making sure that what he was about to wish for was what he truly wanted. He came to the conclusion that it would be better than his current state in every way possible. Not only would he live a prosperous life, but he would finally receive the respect he had long deserved. Thus…

“Link, I’ve decided. I wish that you would make me a prince!” Rhett requested.

“Ah, a fine choice!” Link affirmed, cracking his knuckles in preparation to grant his wish. “A very cliché request, but nonetheless fine!”

Rhett rolled his eyes again; this genie had some sense of humor...

“I’ll just need to get yer measurements for the sake of... erm,” Link choked out, as if he was embarrassed to even ask, a gesture which proved horribly endearing to the mortal man. “Suitability… get it? ‘Suit’-ability? Because I’m turnin’ ya into royalty? Ha, I crack myself up! You should really be callin’ me ‘Aristophanes’!”

Link then materialized a full-length mirror and measuring tape out of nowhere. “Now, are ya ready for your transformation, master?”

“Yes, Link. Make me a prince,” Rhett consented.

“Let’s see here,” Link started, already measuring up the tall man. “Just over 200 centimeters in height plus an extra five for the hair, not includin’ the beard... long arms with a shorter torso, average shoe size, lookin’ to be approximately 80 kilograms in weight, definite autumn complexion… that should about do it! I’ve got just the thing!”

He floats behind the mirror and comes back with a stunning silk teal robe with sophisticated, woven gold accents, a pristine white turban with matching trousers, and gold slippers. In one swift motion, Link dresses Rhett in the garments, leaving him to gawk at himself in the mirror.

“Wow...” Rhett expressed in awe. He looked incredible!

“Link, I’m thoroughly impressed! I love it!” he continued, modeling the garment in the mirror as Link beamed at him, blushing a deeper shade of cobalt at the mortal’s enthusiasm.

“Glad you like it, master,” Link finally replied. “But y’know what would go great with this ensemble? I’ve got the perfect finishin’ touch. Follow me!”

Link grabbed Rhett’s sleeve and pulled him down the stairs of the deteriorated building, coaxing Barbara to follow them. As soon as they reached the ground level, the genie quickly pulled Rhett behind the building where no one would see them.

“I thought you said ya had an accessory for me, what’re we doin’ down here?” Rhett inquired.

“You could say it’s an accessory. Depends on your definition of the word, really,” Link replied, eyeing the dog at their feet. “Say, Rhett: how about we get ya’a nice set of wheels? Surely the people of Agrabah would be amazed to see a fine prince like yourself being escorted into the palace on the appropriate chariot, no?”

“I suppose you’re right. What did’ya have in mind?”

“Not what… who!” Link beckoned, and with that he scooped Barbara up into his gangly arms and floated her above him, surrounding her with his magic as she barked.

“Hey, what’re ya doin’?!” Rhett demanded.

“Don’t fret, she shan’t be harmed! But certainly a tiny dog is not suitable for entrance into the palace, as you so desire. She’ll need to serve as something far more sumptuous in order fer’ya to be taken seriously! Now let’s see here…”

What was really just under a minute felt like an eternity for Rhett as Link morphed his fluffy, white dog into a myriad of different animals right before his eyes. Shifting her from a donkey to a stallion to a camel to even a reindeer in a matter of seconds, Link finally settled on the beast he was looking for all along.

“Presto!” Link concluded, turning to Rhett. “Well, whaddya think?”

Rhett didn’t know what to say, so he just observed the white elephant in the room… literally. In front of him stood what was formerly Barbara, now a massive, ivory, almost four-meter-tall African bush elephant.

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” Link continued, admiring his handiwork while also ignoring Rhett’s nettled eyes. “If y’don’t like it, I can always change her back to normal after you’ve made yer way into the palace, but I figured y’might want to keep her like this for now as an added bonus to make a good impression on the royals.”

Rhett sighed, admitting defeat. As much as he wasn’t too keen on his new behemothic companion, Link was right. The easiest way to impress the royals would be to make a big spectacle out of his entrance, and arriving on a gargantuan elephant would do just the trick. At least Barbara wasn’t in any noticeable pain…

“Very well, genie. I’ll take it, for now,” Rhett finally responded. “So what’s yer plan?”

“Well, is your plan to just ride into the palace? If so, I think y’might have a harder time getting people to buy into your charade on yer own,” Link advised. “Perhaps ya should have some reinforcements!”

Just then, Link multiplied himself into an army of about 30 human men, all dressed in royal servant garb to match Rhett’s own. They all lined up behind them, ready to march through the palace gates.

“Huh, lookit that,” Rhett reacted, albeit a little weirded out by the clones’ blank smiles. “Well, let’s not waste any time then!”

At last, he mounted Barbara and the brigade trekked toward the palace entrance, gaining much curious and dazzled attention from citizens around them. The voyage went on for some time, long enough for the genie and his master to get better associated. As the troop followed closely behind them, Rhett and Link continued their prolonged conversation.

“So he just kicked ya into the dirt?” Link asked. “That doesn’t seem too princely to me.”

“Believe me, he was anythin’ but princely,” Rhett replied. “I hope that by the time we arrive at the palace, the royals will have already kicked him out and spit in his face.”

“I’d like to see that,” Link professed. “I hope the princess spits at him the hardest out of all of ‘em. Word on the street is she’s got venomous saliva, and it’s especially effective on her many bumblin’ suitors.”

“Suitors?” Rhett quavered, momentarily stopping in his tracks. He felt his stomach turn at this. Once they reached the palace, was he expected to attempt to woo the princess? He had never met her before, let alone seen her in person, which made him very uneasy. Rhett had essentially hoped to join the royals to reach their level of greatness, not marry into it.

“Have you been livin’ under a rock?” Link laughed. “Any prince who steps foot into that palace is presumably a suitor for the princess, who is required by law to wed in order to inherit the throne. And since yer a prince now, that includes you.”

Link’s voice trembled at that last word, puzzling Rhett. Was Link nervous? He stared at the beryl spirit, analyzing his perfect bone structure and seemingly crestfallen expression. This made Rhett feel inexplicably contrite and he silently hoped that the genie’s current mental state matched his own, as Rhett wasn’t very warmed to the idea of pursuing the princess, and for more reasons than he’d like to admit in that moment…

“Link, I’d like to ask ya something. Not a wish, but a general wringer,” he asked, watching as Link adorably perked up at the question.

“Of course, master,” Link chirped.

“I was just wonderin’. If you were in my position,” Rhett continued. “...what would you wish for?”

It was in that moment that Link’s blithe demeanor dropped to that of profound rigor, much to the concern of the mortal man. Rhett hoped he hadn’t accidentally offended him, but his concern washed over at the sight of Link’s fond smirk that stretched across his ultramarine cheeks.

“Wow, no one’s ever asked me that before… I’m sort of at a loss for words, t’be frank. Well…,” Link rambled, his countenance once again switching to something far more lugubrious and wistful. “There is… one thing.”

“And that is?” Rhett asked cautiously.

“It’s a bit out of the question, I’ll admit. And maybe selfish...”

“It can’t be that unreasonable,” Rhett reassured him.

“Freedom,” Link confessed finally.

“What d’ya mean?”

“Face it, Rhett: I’m a prisoner. Always have been, always will be. I only exist to fulfill other people’s wishes; it’s a vicious cycle. Once I’ve pacified one master, I’m at the mercy of the next. The only way I could truly grant my own wish of being free is if my master were to grant it for me. It’s a horrible existence that I’ve simply learned to accept.”

As he listened to the genie’s words, Rhett’s heart felt as if it had been shattered into a thousand fragments. His soul ached for Link, and although they lived in completely different circumstances, he felt a deep connection to Link’s story. The altruistic side of him desired to help the genie in any way he could, so he pushed further.

“If you were to have yer wish of freedom granted, what d’ya think would happen to ya?” he inquired.

“Theoretically, I should become a human like you,” Link answered.

“Well, that just settles it then.”

“Settles what, master?” Link asked, snapping his head back up at Rhett.

“I vow to use my last wish to grant yours,” Rhett offered, which received a hearty guffaw from the genie.

“Y’can’t be serious,” Link chuckled in disbelief. “I couldn’t ask ya to do that for me. I mean, I’m just some strange blue man that popped out of a tin can in yer bedroom. Y’hardly even know me!”

“Well, maybe I want to,” Rhett admitted flirtatiously, both of them now blushing and averting their gazes to hide their ridiculous smiles.

“Y’really are very unlike my previous masters. They weren’t nearly as generous,” Link declared belatedly, face still tinged with indigo.

“Hopefully I won’t be yer master much longer,” Rhett winked, the two of them simpering the entire rest of the way to the palace.

---------

After a semi-long journey to the more affluent side of Agrabah, they were allowed through the gates, leaving the cheers and hollers of the civilians behind them.

The palace was magnificent, to say the very least. Surrounding them were a number of shining, domed buildings, paradise gardens, and a sizable courtyard containing several ornamental pillars and a large, stone fountain. Rhett’s jaw went slack at the marvel of such a place, with Link beaming at his awestruck visage.

“Like it? I think you’d settle in quite nicely over there next to that mosque,” Link pointed out.

Their party approached the larger mansion in the center of the palace, which they presumed to be the sultan’s primary domain. Upon dismounting Barbara, Rhett was greeted by the sultan himself at the entrance.

“Welcome to the palace! You must be here for the princess!” the sultan saluted, happily dragging Rhett inside before he could protest, leaving Link and the others outside. As the short, older sultan talked his ear off, Rhett turned back to the perturbed genie to give him a reassuring nod. He was soon led into a garden in the rear of the structure.

Sat in the garden on the side of another fountain was a slender, young girl with fair skin and long, strawberry blonde hair. She stroked the water with one hand while petting her pet tiger with the other, lazily gazing up as Rhett and the sultan approached her.

“Prince Rhett, I would like for you to meet my lovely daughter, Princess Stevie,” the sultan addressed, the young girl standing up.

“H-how d’ya do?” Rhett stuttered. The princess didn’t respond, instead looking off to the side disinterestedly.

“Stevie, why don’t you show Prince Rhett around the palace to get better acquainted?” the sultan asserted. “Supper shall be prepared in just a few hours, I expect you to meet me in the banquet hall. For now, I will leave you to your own devices. Farewell for now!”

As the sultan skipped off back into the building, Princess Stevie sat back down on the fountain to turned her attention to her pet tiger once more, leaving Rhett not knowing what to do next. Should he try to talk to her? Leave her alone? It didn’t seem like she wanted to talk to him anyway, but he came here to gain insight on how to achieve greatness and who better to ask than the Princess of Agrabah herself?

Rhett opened his mouth, but was immediately cut off.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not here to win my hand in marriage,” Princess Stevie said flatly. How did she know that? Was it that obvious that he had no intentions of courting her?

“I’m sorry?” Rhett prompted, not sure what else to say in that instance.

“It’s obvious that you aren’t like other princes who have visited our kingdom, as you aren’t nearly as arrogant or forceful,” she elucidated. “I believe it’s a fair assumption to believe you have other intentions being here than charming me.”

Not sensing any hostility from the tall man, she patted the side of the fountain beside her to signal for him to join her, to which he obliged. The tiger under her palms quickly growled at him, causing Rhett to spring out of his seat. Princess Stevie shushed the large feline, calming it down.

“It’s alright, Enzo is typically not the best with strangers upon first meeting, but will get used to your scent quickly,” she explained to the frightened man.

“I’m not sure how much better that makes me feel,” Rhett admitted, tittering nervously and sitting back down, this time much more tentatively.

“I apologize for my father’s forwardness,” Stevie acknowledged. “He is rather… brazen, when it comes to introducing new suitors. Part of me believes he thinks he’ll perish before he sees me wedded off, and thus is all the more eager to expedite the process.”

“It sounds to me like yer not looking to wed anyone anytime soon,” Rhett suggested.

“Not anyone. Just a prince,” Stevie finished, adding emphasis to the last word. After a brief moment of confusion, Rhett began to understand and widened his eyes at the princess in surprise.

“Oh,” Rhett gulped. “I see.”

He was quick to adjust his tone once he noticed the ashamed look on the young girl’s face.

“Not that I’m against that!” he interjected, watching as she let out a sigh of relief. “It’s just rather unforeseen, but yer honesty is refreshing.”

“I’m alleviated to know that you’re not as vehement about how I choose to live as the majority of the populace of Agrabah,” she confided. “I know my father truly wants the best for me, but it is also apparent to me that we don’t want the same thing. As much as I would prefer to be forthright with him, you must understand that who I’ve chosen to be with is frowned upon as both a royal and a woman in this land. Still, I strongly argue that marriages should not be based on arrangement, but instead the purest form of love.”

Rhett sympathized with the princess, correlating his life story to her own.

“Well, it looks as if you and I have more common desires that we both initially thought,” he finally divulged, giving her a coy glimpse that revealed what he needed her to know as discreetly as possible. As soon as she caught on, she smiled widely.

“Indeed,” she concluded, resting a compassionate hand on his shoulder, feeling repose in their shared dilemma. The two continued to talk for some time as she gave him a tour around the palace grounds, with an unseen Link following them from a distance.

(To be continued)

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envision-fandom · 6 years

Text

Red is the Warmest colour

Fred Weasley Fanfiction

Couple: Reader (Malfoy) x Fred

Request: Anonymous said to sangster-fandom: Hey can I request a malfoy! Reader with Fred Weasley? Thanks.

Pt2

Being a Malfoy and having feelings for a Weasley was not a good mix.

What made it worse was that on your first day of Hogwarts, your twin brother, Draco, had pretty much declared his hatred on the Weasley family, which instantly meant the whole of the school thought you felt the same way.

Although you looked like Draco and was placed in Slytherin with Draco. You were not Draco! Which meant you had your own mind, your own views and your own feelings towards the matter.

And since laying eyes on Fred Weasley, your feelings were thrown into overdrive.

You had fallen in love with him on the first day of school and three years later, you still found yourself tracking his every move and dreaming about him every night.

But you knew deep down, it could never go anywhere. Because if the fact that you were a Malfoy and in Slytherin wasn’t enough, he also had to be two years older than you.

In your second year at Hogwarts, you thought it would be great to try out for the Quidditch team with Draco, because at least then you may have more interaction with Fred and actually get him to notice you, with your Quidditch skills.

But instead, the only interaction you got was him trying to hit bludgers at you during matches and this time it had actually worked.

You crumpled to the ground, barely able to move after the fifty foot drop.

The last thing you remembered before descending into darkness was a flash of red and strong arms caressing your body, lifting you up off the sandy ground.

You woke up in the hospital room.

Your arm was in a sling and you could feel the bruises surrounding your body.

You tried to think back to what had happened and pictured the bludger coming towards you and colliding with your arm, which had made you lose balance and fall off of your broom.

But there was something else. Something almost warm and inviting. Something Red.

Your eyes fluttered back open and you looked down to see a figure resting their head on your bed, fast asleep.

You expected it to be Draco, but was shocked to see a mass of red hair and red quidditch clothes and then you remembered.

Fred Weasley.

He had carried you to the Hospital wing and by the looks of it, hadn’t left your side since.

You mentally cursed yourself that the only alone time you’ve had together, you were unconscious, covered in mud and bruises and your long silver hair was probably a frizzy mess.

You reached for the mirror on the table and examined yourself and to your horror you were right. Your hair was all over the place, you had a deep cut on your lip and a cheek and your left eye was bruised.

You let out a sigh, which caused Fred to stir, but to your relief he didn’t wake up.

You felt awkward about doing it, but decided to use this chance to examine Fred’s sleeping face, which of course was too adorable for words.

You smiled down at him, wishing he would see you as you saw him.

He began to talk in his sleep, mumbling something about sweets and quidditch and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

His eyes opened at the sound of your laugh and he looked up at you for a moment, both of you getting lost in each others eyes, before he sat upright suddenly and pulled his hand through his hair uncomfortably.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” He whispers.

“It’s okay.” You respond.

“And I didn’t mean to hit you with that bludger...” He trails off awkwardly.

“Yes you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have been aiming for me.” You laugh and his head shot up in response, so he could stare right at you.

“I... Okay maybe I was aiming for you, but usually you bust out an awesome quidditch move and block it. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d known I was going to actually hit you.”

You stare back at him in shock “Oh okay. I thought you just hated me because I was in Slytherin or Draco’s sister or something.”

His eyes look at you worried and he grabs your hand for support “Oh no! I don’t want you to think of me that way! I have nothing against you being in Slytherin or because you’re related to that git- no offence- You’ve never done anything mean against me or anyone that I know of, so I have nothing against you... I promise.”

You were shocked at his sincerity and the fact that he seemed to know so much about you.

“So you were impressed by my amazing Quidditch skills?” You joke and he laughs in response.

“Yeah, they’re actually pretty spectacular. They’re always the highlight of our matches. I can barely keep my eyes off you... in case I miss something cool.” He trails off.

Your face blushes a bright red at his words and after seeing your reaction, his face does the same.

“Well... I, erm... I better be going. I need to change out of my Quidditch gear. But I’ll see you later?” He questions and you nod your head in response.

A bright smile spreads across his face, which sends butterflies to your stomach. You had seen him smile thousands of times, but never once had it been directed at you. It almost caused you to faint all over again.

You watched him walk out of the hospital wing and pass your brother as he made his way in.

You were glad to see your brother, but also slightly annoyed, knowing he was about to ruin your special moment.

“What was the Weasley doing here?” You hated how he sneered the name, but simply smiled in response.

“He carried me to the hospital wing remember?” You ask confused.

“Yes but that was yesterday! Don’t tell me he’s been here all night? They wouldn’t even let me in until this morning and I’m your brother!”

Fred was true to his word and came to visit you a few hours later, carrying a handful of sweets and chocolates and dumping them on your bedside cabinet.

You were glad you had time earlier to shower and straighten out your hair, so at least you looked more presentable. But truthfully, you weren’t sure if Fred was going to come back, but he did!

“Are these all for me?!” You ask in shock, as he beams down at you.

“Of course! I figured I kind of owed you and what’s better than sweets?!” He exclaims excitedly and you find yourself answering ‘You!’ in your mind.

He was about to take the seat beside your bed, but instead looked at the empty space near the bottom of your bed and sat there instead, crossing his legs and looking over at you eagerly.

“Just because you brought me sweets, doesn’t mean you can hop straight into bed with me!” You joke and he rolls his eyes at you.

“It’s not my fault that chairs super uncomfortable and I’ve already spent all night on it.” He states.

“Why did you spend all night here?” You question.

He rubs his hand across his neck and looks up at you sheepishly “I wanted to apologise as soon as you woke up, to be sure that you wouldn’t hate me.”

“I could never hate you...” You trail off awkwardly “I mean, you did nothing wrong. People always get hurt playing quidditch, it’s part of the job.”

He nods in agreement.

“But how did you manage to stay here all night? My brother said he wasn’t allowed in.” You question and a smirk forms on his face.

“I have my ways. There are a lot of secret passageways around this castle, that I’m pretty sure only me and my brother know about.”

You look at him impressed “That’s awesome, but how do you know you’ve found them all.”

He laughs at your response “I like how you think Y/N! We have a way for that too. I could show you the passageways sometime if you like?”

You were shocked that he was willing to spend time with you after you had left the hospital wing, but there was no way you were going to miss out on this chance. You had been waiting for years after all.

“Of course! That sounds awesome.” You exclaim and he laughs at your optimism.

“Okay it’s a date.”

Date. Date. DATE!

The word kept echoing around your mind and was even beginning to haunt your dreams.

Fred had been visiting you every night for the past week and today was the day you were finally being dismissed from the hospital wing.

Your injuries were almost completely healed and the effects from some of the potions had even made your hair grow longer and your skin to become softer. But you weren’t going to complain, because you had a date!

You changed out of your pajamas and into your favourite burgundy skirt, black jumper and lace up boots.

You were dressing to impress, but also comfortably, as you weren’t sure how cold and dark the passageways might be.

Fred had planned to meet you in the hospital wing after dinner and you paced around the bed anxiously.

You knew where the passageway was, so eventually made your way over to the entrance, too anxious to wait around any longer.

Soon enough the passageway slid open slightly and a hand pulled you through.

It was pitch black inside, so you commanded “lumos.” and soon enough the tunnel was filled with light.

You were shocked at the close proximity you and Fred were in, your nose almost touching his chest, so you moved back slightly, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

You checked him over and he did the same to you.

He was wearing a red burgundy jumper with the letter F on the front, which matched your skirt and black skinny jeans and converse.

He looked amazing.

You glanced up at him and his mouth hung open in shock “Is there something wrong?” You ask, frightened there might be a spider in your hair.

He pulls himself together and looks into your eyes “No, nothing. You just look great! I didn’t expect you to be wearing Gryffindor colours.”

You roll your eyes playfully “Yeah well I like this colour. It’s really warming.”

He laughs at your response “Yep, red is the warmest colour!” He grabs your hand and pulls you along the tunnel, leaving you completely flustered.

You were glad he was dragging you along, because you were unsure whether you were able to walk on your own.

You reached the end of the passageway and he led you out into the corridor and straight into another one.

This one was a lot smaller, so you occasionally had to duck or squeeze through and you were wondering how Fred was able to manage.

You finally reached a set of steps, leading up to a trap door. Fred let go of your hand to push it across and after checking if it was clear, he resumed holding your hand and pulled you up into a small room.

You looked around and noticed packaged boxes on the floor. “Honeydukes?” You question and he nods in response.

“Yep, this is my favourite passageway.”

“I’m not surprised why. Is this how you managed to get me all of those sweets?!” You exclaim and he laughs.

“Guilty.”

After exploring Hogsmeade, you made your way to the Three Broomsticks, as all the shops were beginning to close.

He lead you over to a booth in the corner and you got comfortable as you watched him bargain with the barmaid to not tell any of the teachers you were there on a school night and to pour you both a butter beer.

His charm seemed to have worked, as a few minutes later he sat beside you, placing a Butter beer on the table in front of you.

You thank him for the drink and sip it cautiously, before downing the whole drink “This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” You exclaim and he laughs at your reaction.

“Have you never had a Butter beer before?” He questions and you shake your head.

“No, I’ve never been to Hogsmeade before.”

He looks at you confused, before realising why “Of course! I always forget you’re younger than me and the third years had their first trip here the other day when you were in hospital.” He looks down awkwardly “I’m sorry about that. You missed out on that experience because of me.”

You rest your hand in his reassuringly “Don’t worry about it! I’m glad I’m here with you, I’m having a much better time than I would have. It’s all about the company more than anything.”

He raises his eyebrows at you “You enjoy my company?”

“Of course! You’re the funniest person I’ve ever met and I’m glad you hit me with that bludger.”

He bursts into laughter at your response and you pout, as you were deadly serious about what you said “It’s not funny.”

He wipes a tear from his eye “I’m sorry Y/N, I just don’t think that sentence has ever been said before. But for what it’s worth, I’m glad I hit you with that bludger too.”

He leans towards you and glances down to your lips.

Your heart begin to speed up as you lean into him in response.

Soon enough his hand is on the back of your neck, pulling you closer and your lips finally touch.

You melt into him. The taste of Butter beer still lingering on both of your lips. He licks at your bottom lip affectionately and you moan into his mouth.

Your mind had been going crazy all day, but finally it had become blank and all you could focus on was the intensity of Fred’s kiss.

You had been going out with Fred since that day, but you both decided to keep your relationship a secret for the moment, as you weren’t sure how your brother was going to react.

Of course it wasn’t long before Fred’s twin George figured out what was happening between the two of you, as you had accidentally held his hand in the crowd of people lining up to visit Hogsmeade.

You were so embarrassed about what happened, but in your defence you could only see red hair in the crowd of people, otherwise you would’ve known it wasn’t Fred.

“So if I saw your brother’s hair in the crowd, you wouldn’t mind if I gave him a quick kiss?” Fred joked and you slapped his arm playfully.

“Don’t be ridiculous he’s a boy and I’m a girl!”

“You could’ve fooled me.” He jokes and you throw a snowball at his head.

“You’re so mean Fred Weasley!”

“But you love me anyway?” He questions.

“Yes I love you anyway.” It was the first time you had ever said it and it caused your heart to beat uncontrollably. But as soon as he told you he loved you too, you were unable to function.

“I think you broke her.” George jokes and pokes your cheek.

You barely respond and continue to stare into Fred’s beautiful brown eyes. You still couldn’t believe he loved you back, it just seemed too good to be true.

“I know what will fix her.” He leans down and kisses you tenderly.

You sigh into him and return the kiss, which causes George to pretend to gag.

You both pull away laughing and instantly stop when you notice Draco standing a few feet away, staring daggers at the three of you.

Maybe it was too good to be true.

Pt2?

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley harry potter #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #malfoy #malfoy fanfiction #malfoy fandom #malfoy imagine #slytherin #Gryffindor #hogwarts

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ashroseevans · 6 years

Text

How Far Will You Go? 7

The next day, Momo and I had some time in the morning to ourselves, so we had decided to go out for a stroll through the garden. Summer was waning and fall was starting to take over, so we wanted to spend as much time in the nice warm air as we could. We walked along the outside of the flower hedge maze, enjoying each other's company. It wasn't until we made our second pass passed the entrance of the maze did Momo speak.

"So," she said. "You've always been asking me what I think of Shoto."

I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"I think I'd like to hear about what you think about him." Momo replied and met my gaze.

I frowned slightly. "Why does it matter?"

She shrugged. "I'm curious."

I sighed. "Fine, fine," I said. "At first I thought he was an ass. But after that night he apologized he seemed a lot... softer. I almost sort of like him." I noticed the grin on Momo's face and her eyebrows shot up. I frowned deeper. "Not like that," I sighed. "He's a perceptive person, and shows kindness in a unique way, but it’s hard to mistake it for anything but kindness. Even if you could never fall in love with him, I think the two of you would be great rulers together."

Momo's expression softened as she looked at me and I knitted my eyebrows together. "What's that look for?" I said.

She giggled and shook her head. "Nothing, nothing."

I frowned. "I don't believe you," I said. "I know when you're lying."

Momo smiled cheekily at me. "Well, regardless of if you think I'm lying, I won't be giving anything away."

"Tell me," I whined.

"Am I interrupting?"

I turned and saw Shoto standing behind us, Kyoka next to him. I felt myself blush at showing him my more childish side. "Uh... no. Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Actually, yes," Shoto said and looked at Momo. "May I speak with you privately?"

Momo blinked a few times, but unhooked her arm from mine. "Yes of course," she looked at me. "I'll be back in a minute."

I nodded. "All right."

Shoto offered Momo his arm, which she politely took, and lead her into the hedge maze, leaving Kyoka and I to watch and wonder what they were doing.

"What do you think they're talking about?" I asked Kyoka.

She shrugged. "Shoto mentioned he had something he wanted to talk to Momo about, but he wouldn't tell me exactly what."

I sighed. "Is it wrong of me to want to find out?"

"Not really," she said. "But it would be rude and I'd get in trouble if I let you."

"Fine, fine. I'll be a good girl," I said and sat down on a nearby stone bench.

Kyoka followed me but didn't sit down. Instead she stood next to me and I noticed that she never dropped her guard. Her hand stayed stationary on the hilt of her sword and she kept scanning the area every few seconds. I was about to ask if she really thought that there was going to be a threat inside the castle grounds, but she spoke first.

"May I speak freely?" she asked.

"Er yes. Of course. Is there something you would like to ask me?" I said and looked up at her. I noticed a faint blush on her cheeks.

"Well... yes," she said and sat down on the bench, relaxing finally. "It's about Princess Momo."

I raised an eyebrow. "What about my sister?"

"Well, I was just noticing this but..." Kyoka shook her head and looked at me. "Does she like Shoto?"

I frowned. "What kind of question is that?"

She shrugged. "I can't help but notice that she acts like she likes him, but her heart doesn't seem to be in it," she said. "So I was wondering if I was just imagining things."

I studied Kyoka. Something about her made me feel like I could trust her with my sister’s secret. But there was something I needed to ask her first. Before I said anything.

"Do you like my sister?" I asked. "I mean, like her like her?"

Kyoka didn't answer right away, but I saw her cheeks darken. Finally she sighed. "Is it really that obvious?" she said and looked at me.

I shook my head. "Not especially. I just had a feeling," I said.

Kyoka sighed again and looked at the ground. "Is it wrong to feel like this? She's engaged."

"No, it's not wrong," I said. "I know how you feel. Though, I will tell you this."

Kyoka looked at me. "What?"

"You have more of a chance of gaining her love then Shoto ever will."

* * *

Shoto led Momo deep into the hedge maze before he spoke. And even before then, he double checked to make sure that they weren't followed. He sighed and turned to look at Momo.

"I'm sorry for dragging you all the way out here," he said. "I just didn't want anyone to overhear us."

"I completely understand that," Momo replied. "What did you wish to speak with me about?"

Shoto hesitated. "It's about your sister," he said.

Momo raised an eyebrow with a knowing smile. "I see," she said thoughtfully. "May I ask you something first then?"

"Er, yes, I suppose," he said.

"What do you think about her?"

He raised an eyebrow and then looked towards the sky thoughtfully. Momo carefully gauged his expression. "She's witty and fierce, if that sparring match I had with her was any indication. I like how she was able to match me, no one has been able to do that in a long time," he said and his expression softened. "She's very observant and she can tell things at just a glance, without ever needing to ask. Which honestly, can be kind of scary at times."

Momo giggled and her expression softened. "Do you like being around her?"

Shoto blinked. "What do you mean?"

"It's a simple yes or no question," she said. "I promise I won't get offended one way or the other."

He hesitated again, not wanting to be straight with the woman he was engaged to marry. But the look Momo was giving him commanded honesty. He sighed.

"I have come to enjoy being around her quite a lot," he said.

"I see," she replied, her expression never changing. "So what was it that you wanted to ask me about her?"

"Er well... I'm not quite sure if I should say, anymore," he said. "I'm sure you already know what I'm going to ask you."

She giggled. "I do have an idea," she said. "She does enjoy spending time with you, as well. She doesn't want to admit it though because of our engagement, but she's my sister and I know things."

Shoto couldn't meet Momo's eyes and nodded a small barely noticeable smile on his lips. "That's, erm, well, that's good, then," he said.

Momo couldn't help it. She laughed. His reaction was just like _____'s when she was embarrassed about something. That cute way of pretending like it doesn't matter when it really does. Shoto blinked a few times and looked up at Momo, an eyebrow raised.

"What?" he asked.

She shook her head; giggling a bit more before she calmed down enough to speak. "Nothing, nothing. You and she just have some of the same mannerisms already. It's rather adorable."

Pink dusted Shoto's cheeks, barely noticeable, and he looked back to the side. "Well, some things are bound to rub off given how much time we've been spending together."

"You may not want to openly admit that," Momo said, lightly. "You and I are the ones engaged, not you and her."

"I know," Shoto said with a sigh. "By the way, there's one other thing that I would also like to ask you, something that I've started to notice."

Momo tilted her head to the side in question.

"You... you're more interested in women than men, aren't you?" Shoto said. "Or a better question, you're interested in Kyoka more specifically?"

Momo blinked a few times before she started to blush as well. She let out a sigh and nodded. "You're just as perceptive as my sister."

"It seems we have both taken an interest in the wrong people," Shoto said. "According to our parent's at least."

"It would seem so."

* * *

As per usual, later that night, I sat around in Momo's room as she got ready for bed. She sat at her vanity. I kept trying to ask her about what she and Shoto talked about without straight up asking, but either I was being too vague or she just didn't want to tell me. I ran a hand through my hair and stood up, about to head to my room after we had been talking about some completely unrelated things.

Just as I reached for the door handle, she spoke. "You know, _____," she said.

I turned to look at her. "What's up?" I asked.

"I've decided to take pity on you," she said and turned to look at me with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I know what you've been trying to get out of me all day," she said and giggled. "He was asking about you."

"Wait, what? Really?" I said. I could feel my heart beat up and I tried to fight the grin that wanted to be seen. "He really asked about me?"

She nodded and gave me a strange look, grinning all the while. "Yeah. He seems rather interested in you, to be perfectly honest," she said and snickered. "Can't imagine why though."

I felt myself blush at that. "Yeah, yeah. Well. Whatever," I said and shook my head. "Even if he were to have feelings for me or vice versa, it won't interfere with your marriage."

"Mmhmm," Momo said. "I hope you have a good night's rest tonight."

"You too," I said and opened the door. I paused just before I stepped out and looked back at Momo. "You should probably know, too, but Kyoka was asking about you."

Momo's eyebrows shot up. "Really? What did she say?" She asked. "What did you say?"

I giggled and shook my head. "Would it really matter one way or the other what happened?" I asked.

She sighed. "No I suppose you have a point there," she said.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She shook her head. "It's the hand that we have been dealt," she said. "There isn't much we can do."

"Yeah... I suppose..." I sighed. "Good night, sister."

"Yes, good night."

Read more My Hero Academia Stories (and others) here

#my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki #todoroki x yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu #how far will you go

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