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demonslayedher · 3 months

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The Taisho Secret canon content regarding The Legend of Zenitsu has unfortunately made me have to give up beloved concepts in this future!Zennezu headcanon post. Most specifically, Old Man Zenitsu's with a mustache, because Word of Gotouge says he never grews facial hair. Zenitsu is probably far more disappointed than I am about this.

But also, it has all given me a much deeper headcanon about "The Legend of Zenitsu" being a bonding experience in their marriage, for Nezuko is a big fan, like so, what with Nezuko being a willing model for Zenitsu's praise-worthy paintings.

And is my brain spinning headcanons again? Yeah.

Zenitsu wished he could rub it in Tanjiro's face that he got a book deal. Not on everything, just on "The Demon Slaying Arc ~Fated Encounters~," "The Heavenly Maiden Arc ~I Am Willing To Die For You~," and "The Life of the Man Who Loved The Spirit of the Plum Tree Arc." No one else deserved to know "The Tastiness of Nezuko-chan's Cooking" anyway, for Zenitsu had described it too well and it would be like sharing his wife with a bunch of slimy readers. Bad enough that he still had to share with Inosuke all the time.

But Tanjiro didn't rub it in. He smiled and made as kind a sound as even, and congratulated him.

Maybe Tanjiro had grown too mild to say or feel anything more than that.

Because Zenitsu had a publisher and small fan base, he got paid a small advance to keep writing. Not even to stop going to an office job in town, if he wanted to to keep spoiling Nezuko with nice things. The stroke to eager made him write "The Beautiful Swordswoman Nezuko Arc" in one night, but "The Golden Dragon Wandering Alone Arc ~Go And Rescue Nezuko!~" was one he slogged through. It was getting to be a handful, going to work and raising a kid living up to expectations now that people had them of him. It felt good at first, but it made the writing less fun.

His heart was hardly in it when he wrote the "Botamochi from Zenitsu Arc." The sales tanked, and Zenitsu's publisher didn't bother him when he said aside his pen for a while. It was a long while, and there were other things going on anyway.

Not long after Tanjiro died, Nezuko caught a flu that was going around. It honestly made Zenitsu a little glad to have an excuse to leave his kid with Aoi for a while so that he could have Nezuko to himself while she was contagious. He didn't need anyone's help to take care of him, because every cell down to his soul cared only about how he might pamper and comfort her.

"Nezuko-chan, come on and drink a little. It'll make your throat feel better."

"I can't. I don't want to," she moaned. Tears escaped her hopeless eyes. She still must have felt so gutted, and Zenitsu knew he could do little to fill her for the time being. Some of that hopeless look must had been from thinking she'd never be free of the headache, but at least that much he might be able to soothe.

"Why don't you rest your head on my lap for a change? Here, I'll stroke your forehead for you."

"You should sleep."

"I can do it in my sleep," he smiled to her. "Actually, did you know that the legendary hero Agatsuma Zenitsu can be even more powerful when he sleeps?"

At this, she gave him a weak smile. The first he'd seen lately. "Yes."

"It's true! It's because he can hear the sound of his wife at his side. It powers him up like lightning coming right out of his empty eye-sockets! Actually, there was one time when he blinded his enemy before the roaring sound of his power knocked him over."

"Or the sound of his snoring."

"No, no, it's thunder like it shoots right out of him! You see, it all started one night in a terrible, creepy forest, when he saw a helpless man swooped backwards into the tree tops..."

When Nezuko recovered, Zenitsu picked up his pen again, and published "Rumble of the Knock-Out Secret Swordsmanship of Zenitsu Arc ~The Legendary Man’s Eyes Shine With Light~" not long afterward. It sold decently, and it was nice to hear that he had some fans who were excited about it.

Life fell back into a new busy normal, and Zenitsu's muse was fickle. "The Potato Feudal Lord Arc" was just a passing thing for fun, not something he'd ever tell his publisher about. It was more fun for a while to try out other things, like painting. As long as Nezuko was his model, Zenitsu found he had a knack for it. He ran into Yushiro one time though, who told him he was a hack, and they got into a big argument that ended with Zenitsu throwing all his brushes and unused canvases at him and daring him to do better. Those had all cost a lot of money, so Nezuko was not happy about that. Likewise, she wasn't happy when Zenitsu refused to sell a painting of her and tore his pants while throwing a fit.

By the looks of Nezuko's ledgers, it looked like Zenitsu was stuck at that desk job, selling electricity around the little mountain foothill town. He had been there so long that he got promoted for being good at sitting in the same chair for years, and that meant moving closer to a bigger town, closer to the growing metropolis, where Zenitsu felt right at home and Nezuko assured him she would adjust.

What would Tanjiro think, now that nobody bought charcoal anymore?

The world that once had demons seemed further and further away and the droll of adulthood stretched on, and powers he couldn't behead with a swift Thunderclap and Flash fought amongst themselves. More and more, there were expectations of Zenitsu, and people depending on him. He had to assure people they would still have light and heat even as Tokyo burned, and the sound of planes rattled his ears almost daily. He was a man of his community now, and the only one his family could depend on. At Nezuko's insistence, they collected nearly-blind Kanao and his nephews and niece, and he tried to insist to Inosuke to stay with them in town where there were bomb shelters, but Inosuke, just as responsible for his own family, felt he kept them safest going deeper and deeper in to the mountains.

Nezuko knew nothing but worries. Sometimes, he almost wished she could be back to a childlike state of mind, protected from all the pain and horrors she so unfairly had to endure. In the darkness of a bomb shelter, he hugged her close as she trembled. "Say, Nezuko-chan. Do you remember that time..."

"What?"

"...that time the great hero Agatsuma Zenitsu was a teeny-tiny, but very, very strong mouse?"

He could hear her worries lift, however slightly. Maybe that was all a mouse could do.

"Actually, it was when he was a little boy. You'd never guess it, but he was very cowardly. That was a terrible warlock with a fancy red mark around his eye painted him with a magic white makeup that turned him into a mouse!"

She stifled a snort against his chest. "Uzui-san..."

"Yeah, that was the warlock's name! Did I already tell you this story before?"

"A mouse?" his son clung tighter to him, sometime he hadn't done in years. Even when he was little he always clung to Nezuko instead anyway. Zenitsu could tell by the tone of his son's voice that he was already teary-eyed and sniffly.

"Yeah. A little mouse who thought he had no power at all. That the world was too big for him. But as it turns out..."

What really hurt was Nezuko's reaction. She sighed with disappointment, and lamented that this was why he spent so many long hours away from home.

That was a story Zenitsu recorded later, as a memory of those times. It stayed on his bookcase at home next to the Potato Lord story, now that the world was quiet again.

Business picked up really well. The world got brighter, and so did the indoor lighting. As a general sense of optimism filled the world again, the small but dedicated base of "Legend of Zenitsu" fans called for a new installment. He responded well to praise, and soon gave them "The Dragon Palace Arc ~Eternal Nezuko~," but being so busy as a highly promoted seat-warmer at the office meant he had things he had to do while sitting in that seat. He put on weight again, and spent a lot of sad, long evenings stuffing cookies in his face while streaming with tears that he couldn't be eating one of Nezuko's homecooked meals instead. "Sitting In A Happy Circle and Boiling Tea in Our Bellybuttons Arc" was something he secretly wrote at his desk as a form of silent protest. His publisher rejected that one after reading only one page.

Of course! He had to be at home to write his best work! He had to be in the same space as his muse, Nezuko! Another quickly written revenge work of his, "The Future Holds Zenitsu Arc," was considered one of his better ones.

After that, he was satisfied with writing for a while, and he muse pushed him to start playing (perfectly) the piano. Nezuko was not thrilled about the piano he bought.

If only he had taught it to Nezuko, then. Her joints all bothered her, but she kept sewing out of willpower.

This new hobby inspired another novel, and Nezuko inspired another novel after that of course, and the stress of their son getting married and wanting a lavish wedding inspired another novel and another novel after that was a desperate attempt to strike it big and get out of the debt that wedding cost them. After all, Zenitsu's daughter-in-law was a cutie and he wanted to spoil her. It made Zenitsu remember how cute Nezuko was when they were newlyweds, and before that too, of course, and now too, and before he knew it he had written yet another novel, despite his dwindling fan base. Nezuko sure liked that one, though, and that was all that mattered.

The years went by. Zenitsu felt he lost his mind over how his granddaughter got cuter every time he saw her, and he eventually reached some arbitrary age when his company could only promote him to retired. Aside from the aches in his legs, he felt as young as he always did, though. Kanao said it was probably the effects of Breath technique. It sustained them without reaching a threshold at which it would be dangerous to them.

Zenitsu still wrote sometimes. He stayed busier when his busy-body grandson read the old unpublished "The Birth of Zenitsu Arc" and insisted on learning Thunder Breath. That was like a new job Zenitsu never asked for, especially since he still only knew one of the original six forms, but Kiriya sent him a letter askeing him to give it a shot, for who knew what the future held. Certainly not demons, Zenitsu was assured of that much. If Yushiro gave his novels a bad review one more time, he'd make sure of there were no more demons left in the world.

He got back in touch with Inosuke. He thought it might never happen after he abandoned the old house and charcoal mill, but the whole time, Inosuke had been on the mountain next to it, where he had always been King of the Mountain. He still took care of the house, he said. But a King still had to be King. They weren't the only people on the mountain, though. Aoi paid house calls. Still, Zenitsu gave Inosuke a stern lecture about making Nezuko (as well as Kanao) worry, so Aoi made sure to drag Inosuke into the bigger and bigger city sometimes.

Zenitsu's newest hobby to drop money on was photography, but now that he was a pensioner, Nezuko did not mind so much. She even agreed to let him fulfill his dream of taking her to Paris. He was glad he had that camera, to prove how the city could not outshine her.

He was glad he took her when he did. Her joints made it harder and harder for her to get around, even though she always smiled and insisted Zenitsu's legs must hurt more. He didn't like it when she laughed and joked around about chopping her legs off to grow new ones.

"Grandpa," his youngest granddaughter looked to him with a tearful face, "Grandma was saying something about being a demon again. I wish she'd stop that."

"I know, right!? She's a princess, and the very spirit of a plum blossom tree! A shrine maiden too!"

"There's no way someone like Grandma would ever go to hell."

He paused, and his stomach sank.

Nezuko gave up her sewing. She spent more and more time in bed, but with no desk job to sit at and a grandson taught enough that he could be told to go off and practice on his own, Zenitsu spent his days writing again. He took a long time on that novel he wrote for her, putting in all the sorts of parts he knew she liked. Sometimes he couldn't help himself and reads parts aloud to her without telling her everything else that already happened in the story. She smiled and enjoyed each fragment anyway.

"I've finally got the title for this one!" he announced. "It's called, 'I Will Be In Love With You A Thousand Years Arc.' Perfect, huh? Well, maybe it's still missing something. A million years, maybe?"

"Zenitsu-san... tell me a story..."

"I am! I'm telling you the greatest story yet! It's about this immortal princess who..."

"Tell me a real story..."

He paused and listened to her heartbeat as she took a breath--a simple, unpracticed breath in tired human lungs. Nezuko still made the same warm sound that she always did. It had a different resonance when she was a demon, and when he carried another life inside her, but it was always uniquely her.

"I want to hear... about the time you spent with my brother."

"Tanjiro? Yeah, he... hasn't been in these for a long time. Maybe I'll bring him back."

"You cared so much about him," she smiled from her futon. "That was why you protected my box, before you even met me."

"He... yeah."

"I'm glad you were such good friends... I want to hear about all those good things that happened to you. About your Ojiisan, and your little bird..."

"Yeah," he grimaced to a smile, and the inside of his nose zapped like a storm was brewing. "I had a lot of good things happen to me. A lot of bad things too."

"It's up to you to decide if you're happy or not. I hope... you'll decide you were happy."

"Yeah," he said, the snot already flowing. "The happiest. I'll tell you all about it. I'll make it my best story ever."

"You promise...?"

He kissed her forehead. "I'd never be able to come up with anything better than the truth."

#whoa I wrote something sappy #but also whoa #I wrote fic again #Zennezu #my fics #Agatsuma Zenitsu #Kamado Nezuko

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randomshyperson · 3 years

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Wanda Maximoff X Reader - The Parent Trap

Summary: When the identical twins Billy and Tommy Maximoff are sent to the same summer camp, they hatch a plan to get their mothers back together by switching places. Or, The Parent Trap AU. / AO3

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of language.

Words: 4.229K

Notes: I want to know if anyone likes this, please tell me your opinion ;) And good reading! By the way, gif is not mine!

Part Two

The whole thing looked suspicious to you. Billy was acting too strange. He didn't run and throw himself on the couch when he got back from camp, or throw his shoes around the house like he always did. He also didn't pick up the basketball reference you made to him in the car. At first you thought maybe it was puberty. But he told you he was tired from the trip, and you messed up his hair, and told him to go get something to eat. When your dog Krypto didn't recognize him, you told him that he needed to change his clothes, because he must be smelling the camp.

Running the vineyard was taking all your time, but you were hoping to spend some time with your boy now that he was back.

You were surprised when your fiancée showed up at your house unannounced. You were trying to find a way to tell Billy about Tabitha. You met her when Billy was at camp, and you hired her as a publicist for the vineyard. And even you yourself were surprised when she asked you out. Many dates later, you were engaged to be married. You tried not to think about it so much, and to remember Tabitha's words, saying that Billy would be happy to have two mother figures, that she would help you take care of him because she had a freer schedule than yours. Honestly, you were surprised that she was in love with you.

Natasha, your best friend and housekeeper, gave you an incredulous and debauched look when you told her about your engagement, but didn't question you. You imagined that she just wanted to make fun of you.

Tabitha told you that you should tell her about the engagement right away, like ripping off a band aid. You were trying to find the right moment.

When you and Billy went out riding, you decided to tell him, hoping that he would be happy. You were a little nervous, finding it strange when he didn't even remember your usual camping trip before the end of the summer, but you thought he was just distracted.

- Hey honey, I want to tell you something. - You said, and he looked away from the vineyard in front of him and looked at you curiously. - What do you think of Tabitha?

- Like what, Mom? - He replies. - Your publicist? Your friend?

- No, dear, just what you think of her as a person. - You clarify a bit awkwardly.

Billy thought for a few seconds.

- Well, she's pretty, has good teeth and nice hair. She can spell. - He replied. - But honestly, Mom, she's a complete stranger to me. Why do you want my opinion?

You hesitated for a moment, and swallowed your nervousness.

- Well, Billy, I'll tell you why. - You said with a trembling voice. - Because believe it or not...

- Race to the house, Mom! - He shouted, interrupting you and riding away at high speed.

You choked in surprise, as you shouted that you were trying to tell him something, but he kept riding away. You mumbled to yourself, as you rode after him.

When you finally reached the house, Natasha was crying. You ran up to her to ask if she was all right, but she just smiled, saying that they were tears of happiness, that Billy was so big and healthy. You frowned in confusion, but you were too distracted in telling your son that you were getting married to think much about it. And then Natasha left the room saying that she was going to prepare a special lunch for you both, and you sat with Billy on the sofa.

- Honey, we need to talk now. - You told him, trying to sound serious and gentle at the same time. Billy just nodded. - Honey, I want to know how you feel about Tabatha being part of the family.

- Part of our family?

- Yes.

- I think it's incredible. - He said, and you felt a wave of relief wash over your body.

- Really?

- Totally, Mom! It's a dream! - he said excitedly. - I always wanted a big sister!

It was as if a bucket of cold water had fallen on your head.

- Honey, I don't... I think you've got it wrong.

- No, mommy! I love it! - He says. - We're going to adopt Tabitha! That's so sweet, Mom.

- No, honey. - You deny it flatly. - I'm not adopting her. I'm marrying her.

It takes a second, and then Billy lets out a mixed exclamation of surprise and anger, getting up from the couch.

- Marry her? That's crazy! - he shouts. - How can you marry someone who is young enough to be my sister?

And then he starts shouting in a language you think is Russian as he paces in circles around the room, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- Honey, calm down! - you ask, pulling him gently towards you. - And since when do you speak Russian?

- I learned it at camp. - He answers quickly, and then assumes an almost hurt expression. - You can't get married, Mama! It will ruin everything!

And he lets go of your grip, rushing out of the room. You let out a sigh of dissatisfaction, thinking about how it all went wrong, and throw yourself on the sofa. Natasha looks at you from the kitchen door.

- That was shameful. - She comments.

- He thought I was going to adopt her. - You retort with your eyes closed and your head against the pillows.

- That's exactly why it was embarrassing. - She scoffs, laughing softly. You don't answer, beginning to feel a slight headache forming.

You barely have time to absorb the whole conversation, when you hear a radio noise in the distance. But a few minutes, and Tabitha enters the room, sitting on your lap.

- Hello, sweetie. - She said - You look stressed.

And then she kissed you, wrapping both hands around your neck. You really just wanted to go back to bed. You let out an unsatisfied sigh, interrupting the kiss. Tabitha looked at you curiously.

- I told Billy about our wedding. - You said, and she seemed excited.

- And how was it?

- Horrible! - you said, upset. - He was furious. He yelled at me in Russian, and I didn't even know he spoke Russian!

Tabitha let out a giggle.

- Take it easy, sweetie. - She said, rubbing her hands on your shoulders. - It's a very common reaction. I'd be worried if he didn't have a reaction like that. - She argues, and begins to deposit kisses against your collarbone. You appreciate the touch, even if they don't really affect you that much. - Let me talk to him. He needs to know that I'm not an enemy.

You let out a low grumble, running your right hand over your eyes.

- Okay, Tabi. - You agree. - But be gentle.

She giggles mischievously, giving you a kiss before getting up. You sink your face into your hands as she leaves, feeling tired.

It's been a few days since you told Billy about your marriage. He hasn't mentioned it again, but he is treating you normally. Tabitha told you that the conversation went well, and you believed her.

Now you are packing your bags, getting ready to go for a weekend in the Hamptons, where Tabitha's parents, whom you haven't met yet, will be staying. You have a strange feeling, as if something is going to happen, but you can't tell what it is.

And when you drive to the hotel, you sit with Billy in the back seat while Natasha drives, and you share some snacks. Billy also begs you to take Krypto, and you agree while ruffling his hair.

Tabitha's parents seem nice, you think. They greet you quite enthusiastically, and you are embarrassed when Tabitha slips her hand to your buttocks for a moment when you hug.

After you check in, you and Tabitha say goodbye to her parents temporarily as they leave toward the bar, and you both make your way to the elevator to your rooms, with Billy and Natasha following a bit behind as they try to get Krypto to obey. Tabitha is particularly needy today, and you wish she wouldn't cling to you so much in such a crowded place, feeling uncomfortable.

As you press the elevator button for your floor, while Tabitha snuggles up to you, you look toward the lobby and widen your eyes in surprise. Your ex-wife, Wanda Maximoff is standing in the center of the lobby, and she waves to you just before the elevator door closes completely. You think you are hallucinating, and wonder if you have finally lost your mind.

Tabitha continues kissing your collarbone, but you are completely disconnected from reality. When you arrive at your room, she pulls you inside, trying to take off your clothes.

- No, darling. I'm sorry. - You deny it, pushing her hands away as you try to think of a plausible excuse. - I need to see if everything is okay with Billy and Nat, okay? We'll see about that later.

Tabitha pouts, but lets you go, strutting sensuously into the bathroom. You smile awkwardly, then leave the room.

You look around as if you're looking for someone, and you really are. And then you bump into Billy in the hallway.

- Hey baby! - You greet him by bending down to his height and putting your hands on his shoulders. - I'm going to go to the lobby. Do me a favor and look after Tabitha for me, will you?

- All right, Mom.

- Oh, honey. - You say hesitantly. - How do I look? Do I look good?

Billy smiles, giving you a thumbs-up.

- You look beautiful, Mom.

- Okay, okay. - You say clumsily, and mess up his hair before heading back toward the elevator.

When you reach the lobby, you look around, trying to locate Wanda around. And you're startled to see Billy again.

- Honey, I thought you were going to keep Tabitha company. - You say, and he looks slightly nervous. But you're not really paying attention.

- I will, Mom. - He says, looking around quickly. - I'm just trying to find her.

- Okay. - You mumble without really listening to him. - I'll walk around here, and see you upstairs.

But then Billy hugs you tight around the waist.

- It's good to see you, Mom. - He whispered, and you frowned in confusion, but smiled, bending down to return the hug quickly.

- It's good to see you too, honey. - You joked, and pulled him away slightly to make sure he was all right. He looked happy.

- It's okay, Mom, you can go. - He said, and you ruffled his hair before heading off in the opposite direction, looking around with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

The hotel was quite large, and you had been looking for many minutes by the time you got to the pool area.

And then you saw her, in all her glory, coming down the stairs on the opposite side from where you were standing. A smile slipped from your lips at the same moment, and you felt your heart race. Wanda looked just as beautiful as the last time you saw her, almost twelve years ago.

Your feet moved automatically, but it seemed that suddenly all the people in the pool area were in your way to get to her. You heard Natasha call out to you, warning you to be careful, but then you are bumping into one of the waiters, stumbling backwards and falling into one of the pools.

You think Billy screamed in surprise, but you kept following Wanda through the water, she noticed you with all this commotion.

Coming out of the pool, completely drenched, you let out a happy sigh as you stopped in front of her.

You should be grinning like an idiot, but Wanda also seemed amazed to see you.

- Wanda. - You sighed.

- Hi Y/N.

- Wow, there you are. - You said, still impressed. Wanda just smiled at you, equally embarrassed. - Sorry, something's happened that I don't know about. I'm completely surprised to see you, but you don't seem surprised to see me at all. - You say and Wanda looks away quickly. - I haven't seen, or known anything about you for ten or maybe eleven years. And suddenly on the same day...

- Hi Mom. - Billy interrupts you, and you look at him in surprise. - I can explain why she's here.

- Honey, do you... do you know who she is?

- Actually, I do. - He says, smiling awkwardly. - And actually, I'm not Billy.

- Actually, I am.

You choke in surprise to see your two twins together, next to each other.

- What... You two...

- You and Mom must think alike, because you sent us to the same camp. - Billy says. You feel your heart racing, still completely in shock. - We met there, and everything came up.

- They switched places, Y/N. - Clarified Wanda beside you.

You let out a sigh.

- You mean I was with Tommy all this time? - you ask with emotion in your voice.

- Well, I wanted to know what you were like. - Tommy said. - And Billy wanted to know what Mom was like. Are you angry?

- Honey of course not. - You denied it by bending down to his height. - I just can't believe it's you, look how much you've grown. - You say happily, pulling him into a tight hug. You pull him away a moment later to look at his face tenderly, running your fingers over his cheeks. - My boy looks so handsome.

Tommy smiles at you, and then releases your grip, returning to his brother's side.

- And you, Billy, have you been in London all this time? - you ask, and he shrugs. You let out a short laugh before hugging him tightly. - I can't believe you're together.

- Mom is awesome, Mom. - Says Billy looking at you. - I don't know how you let her get away.

You laugh uncomfortably, then let him go.

- Boys, let me and your mother talk for a moment, okay? - Wanda asks with a smile. Billy and Tommy nod slightly, and you put your hands in your pockets awkwardly as you and Wanda walk around the pool until you sit on one of the benches, facing each other. You think you should try to stop smiling so much, but this must be the happiest you've been in twelve years.

- I can't believe this. - You comment, biting your lips for a moment. - Seeing them together. Seeing you.

Wanda giggles, a slight redness in her cheeks.

- How are you, Wands? - you ask, and realize that the nickname escapes your lips with ease. - Or does everyone call you Miss Maximoff now?

She smiles, a little awkwardly, denying it with her head.

- My brother still calls me Wands. - She says. - You can call me whatever you like. - She smiles awkwardly.

- And how is Pietro? - you find yourself asking. You were overflowing with curiosity, wanting to absorb as much of Wanda as possible, afraid that she would disappear at any moment. - Is he married?

- Oh no. - She giggles. - Pietro lives with me now. He retired from racing. He goes on casual dates, but he says he doesn't want anything serious.

- You haven't changed a bit. - You comment, looking at her adoringly. God, she looks so beautiful.

- There you are! I've been looking all over for you! - says a female voice startling you both. You look away from Wanda quickly, Tabitha looks at you both with a frown. - Good, you have met. Honey, Miss Maximoff designs wedding dresses, and she's going to make... Wait, how do you two know each other? And honey, why are you all wet?

You and Wanda stand up awkwardly, you run your hand straight down the back of your neck, trying to think how exactly to explain, feeling Tabitha's confused gaze on you.

- You are going to make my fiancee's dress. - You say, turning to Wanda.

- I didn't know she was your fiancée. - She retorts.

- How we met... How I know you... - You turn to Tabitha again, trying to find a way to tell her. - How do you two know each other?

- Sorry, am I missing something here? - Tabitha asks with narrowed eyes.

- You know, this world is so small. - You comment with a wry smile.

- How small? - She replies seriously.

- Hello, Tabitha. - says Tommy, appearing next to the blonde. She greets him back, but then looks at you waiting for your answer.

- How are you? - Billy asks, appearing on the other side, and Tabitha jumps in fright.

- How... - She spins her body around quickly, varying her gaze and finger pointing between Billy and Tommy. - Two of them... How?

- So, did I ever mention that Billy was a twin?

- You forgot that little detail. - She replies with slight irritation in her voice, looking at you and crossing her arms.

- Don't be upset. - said Tommy. - She didn't tell me either. And by the way, I'm not Billy. He is. - He explained. - I was pretending to be him, while he was pretending to be me.

- And that's our other mother over there. - Said Tommy quickly pointing to the redhead next to you. - Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda smiled, but Tabitha didn't look happy at all.

- Is that your mother? - she asked incredulously. The boys nodded in agreement. - Were you two married?

- Yes. - Both of you confirmed clumsily.

- Oh, yes. Small world indeed. - Tabitha says.

- It just got smaller. - You comment nervously.

- And what a coincidence that we are all here together at the same weekend. - She adds wryly, while the boys exchange a mischievous glance. - Can I talk to you privately, Y/N?

You nod slightly as she turns and walks away, and then you turn to Wanda.

- It was ... it's ... good. Good to see you. - You say awkwardly, Wanda smiles and nods slightly. - We... I don't know...

- Go change your clothes and talk to your fiancée. - She pokes you lightly. But her gaze is not malicious. - We'll talk later.

By the time you reached Tabitha, she was already entering the elevators. You think you should be worried, but you just feel uncomfortable. You want to go back to the pool and talk to Wanda. Tabitha doesn't say anything until you are in your suite. Then she yells at you. You think she said something about trust, but you're not really listening. And then Tabitha slams the door on her way out, and you have a smile on your face, thinking of Wanda.

Tommy and Billy insist that the four of you have dinner together. And honestly, you make no effort to find excuses not to go.

And then you find yourself standing in front of the hotel, completely breathless at the image of your ex-wife wearing a red dress that embraces her in all the right places.

You feel embarrassed, not knowing exactly what to say or do, but Wanda lets you hold her arm as you walk together toward the harbor, the boys ahead of you.

And then you approach a big ship, and you feel your heart soar.

- Is that ?

- Yes. - Wanda confirms with a smile, looking as surprised as you are.

Parked in the harbor is the same ship you met twelve years ago. As you walk up the stairs, Wanda asks how the boys managed to get all this, and they just say they pooled their allowance with a little help from Uncle Pietro and Aunt Nat, which makes you and Wanda laugh.

When you arrive at one of the private dining rooms inside the ship, the boys guide you both inside, and you frown as you look at the dining table.

- Darlings, why are there only two chairs? - you ask, looking at your sons. They exchange mischievous glances.

- We're not having dinner with you. - says Billy.

- What? - Wanda asks

- I should have known better. - You make a humorous remark.

- Come on, Mom. Don't be angry. - asks Tommy without looking the least bit sorry for his little plot. - We think you two have a lot to talk about.

You let out a sigh, agreeing. The boys leave a short time later, and you and Wanda sit down at a small table. It is an intimate and romantic dinner, and brings up feelings you have held for a long time.

- Are you okay with this, Wands? - you ask as soon as you are settled at the table. - With dinner I say. With me.

Wanda giggles.

- I'm the one who should be asking you that. - She says. - You're the one getting married.

The teasing makes something in your stomach turn nervously, and you give her an embarrassed smile and look away from her to the table. And then Pietro and Nat enter the room, dressed as waiters, and you both let out surprised exclamations.

- I won't even ask. - You joke, but the two of you just smile politely.

- Good evening, madames. - says Pietro. You notice how much older he looks since you last saw him. - We'll be serving dinner for you tonight.

- And these are the hors d'oeuvres. - Nat says as she places a few items on the table. You look at the dishes with curiosity, and are happy to see that they all look delicious.

They leave next, and you and Wanda exchange a look of amusement. You both sample a few things, and then you find yourself looking at Wanda again. She smiles when she notices.

- You want to ask me something. - she says with a smile. - Just ask.

- It's not a question, I think. - You say after a moment, trying to clarify your thoughts. Being with Wanda makes everything seem like background. - I was just wondering, how did this happen?

Wanda takes a sip of wine, raising her eyebrows slightly.

- What exactly happened? - she replies. - The ship? The children? The dinner?

You giggle, slumping back in your chair.

- Us, Wanda. - You say. - What happened to us?

Wanda looks away from you, looking slightly upset.

- I don't know Y/N. - She answers. - We were so young, immature and so, so temperamental. We both said stupid things. - She says with a slight nostalgia. - And then I left, and you didn't come after me.

She finishes her sentence with a quick sad smile, and you feel your stomach drop.

- I didn't think you would want this.

Wanda shrugged, a glint in her eyes that you couldn't read.

- It really doesn't matter anymore.

And then Pietro and Nat are back with the main courses, and you look away from Wanda quickly, an immense feeling of guilt and regret in your chest.

You have a lot to think about, but it has been so long, and now you had a fiancée, a life that went on without Wanda. You let out a sigh, raising your hand to the glass of wine, and turning it over in your mouth with a single gulp.

You ate in silence for a while, the food was tasty, but you thought you two had become quiet because of the conversation. But then Wanda looked at you again.

- What will happen now that they know? - Wanda asked, and you frowned slightly.

- Why would that be a problem?

- We live in different countries. - She clarified. - What are we going to do, half of the year I stay with Billy, and the other half with Tommy?

You laughed awkwardly, running your hands through your hair.

- Wow, this is a terrible idea. - You declare and Wanda raises her eyebrow slightly. - The kids will never accept this. We'll just have to find a way to make it work.

You're starting to get a migraine thinking about everything.

- Maybe... things could stay the same. - she says. - And then they visit each other on vacation.

You nod in agreement. You hold the smile on your face even as you feel a great wave of nervousness at the thought that it was settled: Wanda would return to London, she would be out of your life again.

You finish dinner in a polite and friendly way, not talking any more. You think you might cry, but you drink more wine to calm your body.

When you and Wanda say good-bye in the hotel lobby, you kiss her cheek, and see in her eyes the same sadness and longing that you have.

You are trying not to get angry with your children, even though they are stubborn brats. You have already checked out of the hotel, and were getting ready to leave, when Tommy and Billy came down from their rooms to say goodbye. And then they matched clothes, and refused to say who is who so that you could leave.

- This is absolutely ridiculous, boys. - You comment next to Wanda. - Your mother will miss her flight.

But your children just kept their arms crossed, and you let out an impatient grumble.

- Kids, what's this about now? - Wanda asked. - Even if I miss the flight, eventually Tommy will come with me.

The boys exchanged a thoughtful look.

- We want everyone together at the camp at the end of the summer vacation. - Said one of the boys, you thought it might be Billy, but you weren't sure.

- And when we get back, we'll tell you who's who. - Completed the brother, maybe this was Billy.

- I have an even better idea! - you exclaim. - You obey your mothers and Tommy goes back to London as we agreed.

And that's how you ended up in a car with Wanda, and your two sons, and your fiancée heading for home. Tabitha was not at all happy about the whole situation.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wandaxreader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #marvel imagines #the parent trap au #wandavision

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rosyfingereddawnn · 3 years

Text

heart of gold (chapter two)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse, sexual assault (short scene, over the clothes), depictions of violence, jonesy and jimmy being partners in crime

words: 3.4k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: this was... more fun to write than it should have been. once again, please note that the views of that bitch named allen are not my own. hope you enjoy!! :) feedback, as always, is so appreciated!

chapter one

masterlist

playlist

------

Walking out of that theatre, arm linked with that of her cruel husband, Florence knew her life had changed. A cosmic shift, perhaps.

Whatever it had been, she had felt it. The blond performer, with the crown of perfect silken ringlets, was the catalyst, clearly. When Florence had laid eyes on him, she found herself completely unable to look away. He was mesmerizing and she was trapped yet again. This time, though, she welcomed it, this beautiful creature an escape for the young woman, from her unhappiness. Florence, looking towards her husband once more, is struck by scorching anger, largely directed at herself. She had let herself get sucked in, thwarted by her own choices.

“...His hair is much too long. And that blasted bird landed right in his palm! Wasn’t that just…Florence, love, are you listening?”

She hadn’t been, mind too focused on the ethereal stranger that had caught her eye. This has left her staring every now and again at the door of the theatre, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who had stolen her heart. “Yes, of course, dear.”

“I should hope so,” he whispers into Florence’s ear, voice threatenly low. “As I was saying… Was it not utterly laughable, how that bird landed right in the performer’s hand? It appears you can now teach birds tricks as well as dogs.”

“I don’t believe there was any intent behind that. He looked as surprised as we were. Regardless, this was a very enjoyable showing, wouldn't you agree?”

“I would. Come now, our carriage will be here any moment.”

“Did you already have your… negotiations? You had mentioned this was business-related.”

“It has been taken care of. I am aware that you enjoy the atmosphere of this theatre,” he says, sharp, white teeth baring as condescension drips from his gaze, “But you realize we must return home at some point, correct?”

“Of course, of course…” Florence sends one last glance behind her at the door to the theatre. No luck, of course. The evening air nips at her exposed skin, and the sun is setting, the sky flushed pink. Stepping into the carriage, she sighs lightly, weighed down by the fact that she would never see the gorgeous actor again.

Surprisingly enough, though, it had been a rare enjoyable outing with the infamous Allen Bennett. He hadn't been overly rude to her, and he conducted himself relatively well; she couldn't exactly complain. However, she was foolish to believe that this good humour would last.

Once the couple return home, they find a wonderful roast dinner on the table, the house completely spotless, servants milling about to complete supplementary tasks. Two young servants appear in front of Allen and Florence, poised to take their coats, while James and John, with a subtle smile at the woman, escort them to the dining table, revealing a rich supper fit for a king. An appetizing cherry wine in their goblets, food on their plates, what could go wrong?

“My love, I would like to bed you tonight. Be ready after we finish our meal.”

Suffocating silence fills the room, until a shocked voice permeates it, soft, as to not anger Bennett further.

“Allen, I am quite tired. I was hoping to retire early.”

Snaking a palm up the length of his wife’s leg, the man smirks, quirked lips revealing gleaming picture-perfect white teeth. He reaches the curve of her hip and moves inward, palming her through her floor-length gown. Florence shifts, discomfort painting her features.

“Allen, please—”

This utterance captures the attention of John and James, who had been standing at attention, in case of any requests by the couple. Florence glances around the room, locking eyes with her friends as she opens her mouth to speak. She is interrupted by the roaming hands of her husband creeping further.

“You will return to our quarters, Florence. There isn’t a choice to be made here.”

“Stop touching her, Sir. It’s clear she’s uncomfortable.” John steps forward, anger pinching his aristocratic features. His gaze never wavers as Allen turns to face him, scoff tumbling out of his throat as the owner of the mansion stares back. The daggers that seemed poised to cut were almost visible in those murky black depths.

“What did you say, servant boy? Surely, you did not give me orders.”

“I said, don’t touch her. I was not aware that something as simple as that would be so hard for you to understand, Sir,” John's face is stony and cold as he locks eyes with Bennett. A smirk is painted upon his lips as he continues, treading through unknown territory. Nobody ever talks back to Mr. Allen Bennett, after all. “I apologize wholeheartedly for my indiscretion.”

Allen stands, finally knocking the goblet to the floor, a red river flowing from the overturned cup, and advances on the servant. He moves in close, a hand flying to John’s windpipe, squeezing warningly. Bennett gazes at the other man with amusement at home in his coal eyes, and John stills, returning the stare with utter contempt.

“Miss Florence was not comfortable with the way you were treating her, and I will not let you continue touching her in that manner.” John says, voice as hard as the look in his slate eyes.

Bennett, smiling now, squeezes harder, John choking on air that will never come. Florence lunges towards her husband, a cry of panic leaving her lips, fearing for John. For the second time that day, Florence is struck by the ringed hand, slashing her cheek once more. Unable to sit back and leave her friend, though, she throws herself at her husband once again, and is pushed backward, slamming into the table and falling to the floor.

James, frozen with anxiety, snaps out of his stupor at the sight of the blood dripping from Florence’s bruised cheek, and the pitiful sounds of his friend.

“Get your filthy hands off of him,” He snarks, pulling the man roughly to face him.

Allen, surprised at the uncharacteristic display of anger from the quiet, yet brutally stubborn young man, finally drops John, who struggles to draw a full breath. Florence, headache a jackhammer against her skull, crawls over to John. James, still gripping the lapels of his superior’s shirt, is thrown back into the wall. Bennett had switched their positions swiftly, catching the other’s arms in a vice-grip. He throws a solid punch, ring and all, at James. Unable to dodge, he would crumple to the floor if not for the hands pulling him up for another taste of violence. Florence, dazed slightly due to the blow to her head, grabs at her husband, willing him to stop, though he does not hear her, or even react to her touch. His eyes are a haze of horrid rage, fist connecting with James's pale face again and again, cracking the porcelain skin.

Finally finished with James after what seemed like an eternity, Bennett lets him slide to the floor, kicking once at the man’s stomach, a pitiful groan floating past his lips. Backing away after the last assault, Allen, a smirk playing about his thin lips, takes in the destruction he has caused: his wife bleeding and bruised and two of his servants injured, the rest cowering in fear, not wishing to end up like those who had defied him.

“I hope this serves as a lesson to all of you: Do not cross me.”

------

John and Florence, both sore and bruised, pull James, unconscious as he is, into their arms, rushing as quickly as they can to Florence’s room. Depositing James gently on the smooth, soft fabric, Florence runs into the ensuite to wet a washcloth at the ivory sink, and hurries back into the room, breaths coming in sharp gasps. Carefully wiping the ruby-red stains from the man’s ashen face, the woman sets about stitching him up.

“Maybe sewing really does come in handy sometimes…” croaks John, throat an abstract painting of blues and purples and blacks. The attempt at lightening the mood had fallen flat, as the man could barely get the words out. The pair sit in silence while Florence works on their fallen friend, occasionally brushing his sable curls off of his forehead, her attempt at comfort.

James adequately cared for, she walks over to John, inspecting his throat with a featherlight touch. Tears spring to the woman’s eyes at the wheezing breaths of her friend, and he pulls her into his arms. Her river of tears soak into his threadbare top, which has come unbuttoned in the chaos that had transpired.

“Florence, save for some bruises and some difficulty speaking, which are both temporary, might I add, I will be just fine. James will heal too, thanks to you.”

“My dear friend, this is all my fault.”

“Your fault? Florence, you did absolutely nothing wrong. Your husband attempted to take advantage of you, and as unforgivable as that may be, it is not your fault in any way.” John insists, handsome face solemn.

“It is my fault, John,” Florence sighs, pulling away from her friend to wipe at her eyes, the waterfall of her tears flowing once again. “I angered him this morning, as you know. I can’t meet any of his expectations as a wife, and it led to this anger. This violence.”

“Ah, yes. James was not very happy to see that mark on your cheek,” John reaches to touch the unmarked side of the woman’s face, bringing her comfort once again. “For as quiet and mysterious as he claims to be, he was all but frothing at the mouth when he heard. I doubt he will be any less angry when he wakes. Thankfully Mr. Bennett didn't hit that mark again.”

“If James wakes…” Florence says, forlorn expression gracing her face as she looks at the man in question, who remains still.

“Florence, you took care of him. You got him this far. As for tonight, that was not your fault. You did not make him the way he is, and you are not responsible,” John turns Florence’s face towards him, an earnest look on his face as he speaks. “Regarding his ludicrous expectations, you are your own person. You need only meet your own.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, John, I do, but I do not know how I can continue with this,” Florence says, furrowing her brow. “I cannot divorce him, or he will retaliate. I cannot run away either. He has so many connections, everywhere. I just wish for us to be free.”

“Maybe the three of us can run away and live in that beloved theatre of yours. I do believe you mentioned a piano?”

At this, James begins to groan, finally stirring, and the two friends dash to his side. He is still heavily bruised, but Florence will always take that over the alternative.

“Florence? John? T-thank goodness you are both alright…”

“James, we are the ones that should be worrying about you. You wouldn't wakeー”

“I am fine, truly. Bruised, but not broken. I am just glad you are both okay as well,” James breaks out in a cheeky smile, revealing his true age, rather than the mystic persona he tries so hard to show. “I believe I heard talk of moving to the theatre? There are myths of a guitar hidden there. I used to play, when I was young... Maybe we’ll have our own group.”

His playful laughter soon turns into a wince, as his ribs scream at him to stop. Florence notices the movement, and locks eyes with him, offering a sympathetic smile. James waves it away with a nod and a hand in the air, and the conversation continues.

“Speaking of the theatre, how was the performance? Surely it can’t have been terrible. You came home in such high spirits.”

“It was wonderful, John! Truly wonderful. The plot was so well-written, and the acting was phenomenal. The man cast as the lead was purely magical! I do not know his name, sadly. He made me laugh and cry and smile,” Florence gushed, a smile of her own growing at the thought of her haloed stranger. “Not to mention he was beautiful, as well. There was a moment where he had let a dove out of its cage, a wonderful stylistic choice no doubt…”

“My goodness, Florence,” James interrupted, smile sitting happily upon his bruised face. “There must be something wrong with him, there simply must be!”

“I am telling you James, he was perfect! His delivery was simply wondrous, and his stage presence was truly arresting…”

The two men watched their friend speak of this stranger with more love than she ever had in regards to her husband. With a knowing look shared between them, James interrupts her rant, a smile on his face, “Florence… Why don’t you write the man a letter? John and I must go into town for groceries tomorrow anyways, we can drop it off at the theatre.”

“Do you… do you think it would work? Would he even read it? A man like him has better things to do, I reckon.”

“I do think you should try, at least. You are not happy with Mr. Bennett, it is plain to see. This may be a solution,” John chuckles, spotting Florence, who had been twiddling her thumbs in an anxious flurry, eyes wide. “Goodness, you haven't written anything to him yet and you're already in a panic!”

“You know… You may be right. It is worth it to try, at the very least.” Florence says, voice almost a whisper, a warm smile at home on her face. Cheeks flushed a vibrant pink, she rushes to grab a slip of paper as well as the fountain pen sitting on the desk across the room. Narrowly avoiding a spill of ink across the paper from the bottle next to her, Florence situates herself at her desk, and composes a letter to her lovely stranger:

‘Dear Angel, halo of golden curls…’

------

“You are an escape from the hell I am confined to, and every thought of you makes my heart sing… Goodness, someone has it bad for you, Robert. I’ve no particular idea why...”

“Oh, come off it, Bonzo. We all know jealousy is not a good look for you. Now, give me that!”

“Fine, fine…”

“Ah, the Great John Bonham is capable of listening! Who knew?”

John Bonham, a tall, muscular man with chestnut hair and an impressive moustache, sits lazily on a theatre seat, having just finished a rehearsal. His long legs extended over the seat in front of him, he drums a staccato beat on his lap. Brash, and rather impudent, John, or ‘Bonzo’, as he prefers, had gotten himself involved in acting by way of necessity. Down on his luck in a rough area of town, his intimidating physique had kept him out of trouble, though funds were scarce. He went where the money was, and a boatload of it was waiting for him in the acting industry. He had always been rather comical, after all.

Quickly rising through the ranks of the theatre industry along with Robert, a fast friend from the very beginning, the two became a sort of package deal. Rarely would you see one without the other. Looking at them now, arms thrown across the other’s shoulder, bright laughter permeating the tense air that seemingly haunts the theatre, it only becomes clearer.

“Robert, don’t stop on my account. Finish your letter. It seems important.” A waggle of Bonoz’s eyebrows follows, and he laughs heartily at the glare on Robert’s handsome features.

Robert can only shake his head in response. Eyes floating over the letters painted midnight blue with expensive ink, Robert can feel his cheeks warm at the kind words that flow across the page, a river of reverence. Luck is not his friend, as he is unable to glean any information from the glimmering syllables that glided out of her pen. The actor receives letters from content audience-members each day, but this one… is different.

Robert is intrigued by the words of this faceless admirer.

“Bonzo,” The blond starts, golden curls glinting in the late afternoon sun. His hand raises, only to rest upon his chin. He’s lost in thought, and Bonzo grunts out an affirmative noise. The sound snaps Robert out of his reverie, and he continues, “Are you aware of how this note found its way here? Who brought it, perhaps?”

“I’m not quite sure. I believe it was already here when we arrived,” Bonzo replies, face pinched in thought. As if a lightbulb had gone off in his mind, his features light up, and he snaps his fingers. The smile on his face is brighter than any spotlight. “Though… I do remember seeing some unfamiliar guests leaving earlier. They wore servants’ clothing, and their hair was rather shaggy, if I’m honest. One of them, the taller of the two, carried groceries.”

“Would you be able to point them out if we see them again?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Robert hums, eyes far off. The blond is distracted, only broken out of his stupor by the sharp sound of snapping fingers near his ear. Glancing over at the perpetrator, he meets Bonzo’s concerned gaze. His large hand claps Robert on the shoulder, and a wry smile graces Bonzo’s features as Robert searches his face.

“What are you planning to do, Robert?”

The man stands, leaving the brunet without a response, and glides into the dressing room. Bonzo flies after him, hot on his heels, his dark eyes full of questions. Reaching for a slip of paper, slightly careworn, and his trusty fountain pen, Robert writes back.

------

Rushing into the manor, James and John search around for any sign of Mr. Bennett. The bruises painting their skin shades of purple haven’t faded in the slightest, a stark reminder of the gravity of the situation. If he found out what they’d done, they wouldn’t live to see the next day. On their way to drop off a suit of Mr. Bennett’s at the tailor’s, they had encountered the blond actor again, and he had a letter of his own to exchange.

Deeming it safe, John pulls out a crisp ivory envelope, bent slightly in one corner from its place hidden under his coat. James’ lips curl upwards in a playful smirk, and John returns it, a bright smile upon his split lip. He had sliced it during his fall to the floor the night before, and it served as yet another physical reminder of Bennett’s tyranny. John lays a hand against James’ back, conversing quietly as they search for the lady of the house.

Soft, simple notes shimmer through the air from the hallway next to them, and an enchanting hum accompanies it, alto in pitch. Shuffling closer to the ornate door of the music room, the servants peer in. Sitting at the sleek black grand piano, somewhat out of place in the gold-tinted room, sits Florence, plunking away. Glorious sunlight shines through the glassy surface of the window, making her golden brown locks, pulled into a loose bun, almost glow. She looked reverent; almost godly, in a flowing royal blue gown. The woman looks up from the keys, finally noticing the duo watching from the doorway.

“H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Your playing is improving by the hour, my friend.”

“I must have had a good teacher,” Florence grins at John, earning herself a warm smile in response, before turning to face James. The ebony-haired man stands just behind John, and steps forward as the woman’s face lights up. “Oh, James, I’m glad you’re truly alright! The damage, yesterday… No matter. It’s good to see you both.”

“Likewise, Florence.”

Finally noticing the envelope half-hidden in John’s hands, the woman cocks her head to the side, confusion clear in the furrowing of her brow. Gesturing towards it, she looks up at the men, a smile blossoming slowly on her lips. Almost as if she hadn’t wished to hope, in case she was let down.

“What’s… what’s that, John?” Blue-gray eyes flit down to the envelope, as twin smiles bloom on the faces of her friends. A glance passes between John and James, a silent communication between the two, and almost simultaneously, they turn to face Florence once more. Silence fills the room, until a light chuckle shatters it.

“It seems,” John starts, eyes alight with mischief. He approaches, smirk never wavering, as he hands the note to Florence. “That your beloved has written you back. You were right, of course. He was very handsome. Quite kind as well, if his treatment of James and I means anything.”

“You mean to say…”

“Open it, Florence.” That was James, now. The man was getting rather impatient, shifting his weight from foot to foot in barely caged anticipation.

The light crinkle of paper tearing is the only sound in the room, as its occupants hold their breath in wait. Clearing her throat, Florence casts her eyes across the paper, and begins to read aloud.

“Dearest stranger, I was grateful to receive your letter. I wish, though, that I could put a name, perhaps a face, to your lovely words. You, no doubt, must be as beautiful as they are…”

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx (let me know if you want to be added!)

#robert plant #led zeppelin #robert plant fanfiction #robert plant fanfic #led zeppelin fanfic #classic rock fanfic

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mochikeiji · 4 years

Text

Rockabye, My Love

↠ Pairing: Akaashi Keiji x Reader

↠ Warning: slight fluff, soft father/daughter moments, angst. Trigger Warning: mentions of death, depression.

↬ Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Every lyrics had a deeper meaning in them than just words that'll fit a song. Yours was heavier than anyone could think of, and Akaashi was singing it to his beloved baby girl.

↣ a/n: ohayo world! I'm sorry for late posts, expect the upcoming ones soon. School was giving too much works again. Thank you all for loving my Day 2 fic in Akaashi Week!! Also, the lullaby in this lyrics is the same tune as Isabella's Lullaby from The Promised Neverland.

⇢ Day 3: Single Parent AU

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine.

You are the most precious thing I have loved.

I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more.

I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you.

You are the most beautiful thing that has came.

I will protect you forever, my love."

Life is difficult in many ways. It's either we were born different, have lost someone dear or have lost ourselves. It's no wonder how millions of people from all around the world, evert second, minute, hour— someone gives up on everything. It was cruel, disturbing, most of all heart breaking.

Akaashi never understood your true intentions. He was one hundred percent sure he had kept an eye on you at all cost. He's made you smile brighter, he's understood you more than anyone. He made you feel alive.

Yet now you ended up being dead to your own inner demons.

He remembers coming home after receiving good news from his company. He had received a promotion and a week off just for you. That was when the hospital had contacted him. He can recall his ragged breathing when he was allowed to place a foot in your room. Your monitor beating in an ever agonizingly slow rhythm, he knew it wasn't normal and immediately ran to your side.

He wanted to yell, scream, ask you why, why did you do this to yourself but he couldn't, not when you looked at him so scared and weak. The doctors had told him that he had only a few minutes with his wife, the drugs you've intake was too much, not everything was removed nor pumped out of your system. Akaashi never felt so depressed in all his life after that situation as he buried himself into your chest, listening to your lullabies that soon died down along with the light in your eyes.

That was the only reminisces he's had with you,the lullaby you would sing to yourself as a teen who strived to survive the world, a lullaby for his anxieties and own demons to be tamed, and the last thing you ever said. He was happy that over the years before your death, you had given him a customized music box that had the right notes of your song, only this time no one was singing it.

Fingers tapping anxiously on his work table, Akaashi started to fiddle with his thumb and then his index, losing his focus despite looking at the same drafted page lit up on his computer screen. He kept eyeing the pack of cigarettes that was just on the edge of his window— he needed one right now. Cigarettes were the last options he has for when he couldn't calm his beating heart or let his emotions out. But he knows how wrong it was to be damaging his health, and he knows he's going to get an earful from Bokuto since he visits his apartment every weekend. Even if Akaashi tries to hide his dirty deeds, Bokuto wasn't stupid to read through his eyes like before.

Foot was starting to bounce, his eyebrows were beginning to furrow, as if he was irritated, in trouble, or something. It wss getting harder for him, who wouldn't after losing their wife? The person he's loved since his teen years, the one he's vowed to never make her feel like how she did in the past. He failed you. He blames himself for all that matter, if he's added more precautions, maybe you'd still be here.

He bites his lips and whimpers, hands ruffling through his tossled hair and holding his head as his elbows were supporting him on the table. Everything was closing in once more, the walls to his workspace became suffocating, how he wishes one of his friends or yours would come knocking at his door even though it was already 2:30 am knowing how reckless he's getting. He swore he wasn't going to die sooner as you did. He promised to himself to let you and his memories live on, because once he dies, no one will ever remember the battles you've fought for, the good things you've done to many, and the love you've shared with him throughout the years.

"It's so hard without you, love.."

Eyes finally cracking with tears behind his glasses, he lets them stream down his face with his body shaking on his chair. Soon enough he was bound to get another headache from extreme emotion and will probably lay the whole day about it. But none of that mattered to him anymore.

He just wanted you back.

But his cries weren't the only ones that can be heard in his apartment.

Jolting up to realization, he carelessly wipes away his tears with his sleeves and tumbles our of his chair straight to his room. His heart was beating fast in worry and adrenaline, he thought the source of the crying in his room had been taken away or worse.

But it turns out, it was just his little baby girl crying in lonliness.

As he got closer, her cries were getting deafening, but he didn't mind. Not when his heart was swooning with guilt when he thought of giving up and caving to his own needs when he's forgotten he has a reason to continue on.

With the night lamp on at the side of her crib and his bed, he cooes at the sobbing baby with sweet nothings to catch her attention. Th cries immediately died down and replaced with sniffles and the baby looking up hazily at the dark figure above her.

Smiling, Akaashi carefully picks her up from the crib to cradle her on his chest. Giving her small pats on her back with hush whispers when he feels her stretch on his body.

"Shhh, I'm sorry, were you lonely?"

Grabbing on the string of his lamp shade on the nightstand, he pulls the string, allowing more light to glow in his room, and for his little girl to finally see that she wasn't alone anymore. Akaashi swayed gently as he remained in eye contact with the baby, smiling ever so slightly at the unreadable expression his daughter was possessing and played with her fingers.

"Maybe I should work with you around, you never really like it in the dark, do you, baby?"

His little girl cooes at him, curious of what language he was speaking to her and hopes he understood what she was saying as well. Akaashi's heart swelled at the adorable sound and nuzzled his face softly on her stomach, the baby still confused as ever but just clenches her hands in wonder.

His anxieties and thoughts disappearing in the air whilst he sat down on his bed and held his baby near to where his hesrt was beating. The same day you died, was the same day you had given birth. It was a miracle for the baby to be healthy despite what you had intake. He remembers after your announced death, the nurses had to usher him out, but only to drag him into another room where lies a bassinet and a couple of IV's attached and treatments.

When he got closer, his world was shaken that day. The sight of you and his baby alive and now existing after 9 months of waiting was there right before his eyes. But his heart broke at the thought of him being the only one to raise her, and her not having to meet her beloved mother. He was so emotional that day that he almost lost it when he realizes why she was kept in there and why there were so much stuff in this room. He didn't want to think thag he was losing another one when he had just met her.

The nurses explained that there was nothing wrong with the baby, just taking further check ups and to ensure she was absolutely healthy. He was already been forced outside your room that no longer held light, he wasn't going to leave the room where his daughter was until he holds her in his arms where he knows she'll be at the safest.

As time went by to now, Akaashi feared her growing up in the future. She resembled mostly to you. She was a dead carbon copy of you and he was terrified she'd experience what you have as history might repeat itself. The very thought of his daughter having something inside her little head without telling him scares him, Akaashi knew how cruel the world can be and hoe each second in life matters because we are unaware of the deaths happening at those time.

He prayed his baby girl wouldn't go through what you did as a child and carry it until she grows up. He hopes and believed in his own strength that he wasn't going to fail her this time— that there will be no person by her side and will lovd and protect her other than her daddy.

His tears blocking his vision of her as he held her tightly. He whimpers at remembering his thoughts earlier. He wanted to curse himself from thinking of leaving his daughter to fend for herself in this world and to find a way to be back to you. But he knows he was still with you, your daughter was the last love you could ever give him and he was going to love her more than anything.

The trembling of his body stops when his baby started to cry and squirm in his hold. Her whimpers breaking his heart when he couldn't solve her distress, it seemed like she was in pain and he knew this situation like in the past.

"Shh, shh, I'm here. I'm always here. I'm sorry."

Reciting out the same line he's used when he held you against his body that night. You cried and held a hand to your heart that day as he hugged you tighter. The demons inside you he had curse to go away and leave you alone. But they didn't.

An idea popped in his head and reached out inside his nightstand drawer. The little music box you have crafted for him still looked the same as it was before since it was taken with good care. He proceeded to wind it gently to let the soft tune play as he stood up once more to cradle his crying baby.

"Love, don't you worry too much,

You're doing fine."

He sings the first verse of the long memorized lullaby you sang for him. Using his thumb to wipe away the little tears that had escaped his daughters eyes. Her cries were stopped momentarily and were replaced by sniffles. Her dazed eyes making eye contact with her father's.

"You are the most precious thing I have loved."

Akaashi would be cringing thinking his voice was terrible, but the little girl in his arms seemed to be intrigued and loving the harmonized voice of her daddy and an unknown tune from the background.

His voice was smooth and soft. Completely out of character from his monotone one, but enough to capture the attention of someone.

"I will never allow the cruel world to take you— away nor hurt you any more."

He couldn't tell if he was singing the lullaby to her or he was making a silent vow to her. The lullaby you sang to him for the first time he tried searching for in the internet what the lyrics meant and who wrote it. Sadly, there were no results that came up that day.

And you never really told him how you got that song and who it was referring to in the lyrics.

But nevertheless, the lyrics could never be at the right time as it was now. It felt like he was reminding himself of what his role was from now on and what his daughter should always remember as she grows up.

No one was going to hurt her on her watch.

"I will sing you this song when the world, caves on.

You'll be fine, I will never leave you."

At the end of that line his voice cracks as he held back his own tears. He can hear only now your voice and hoe you would thread his hair during nights of distress. How he missed so many cracks of your voice from being too intrigued with the song. How he missed the fact that you needed him the most those nights of terror, yet you chose to make him feel secure and loved without leaving anything for yourself.

Slowly, his mind was connecting all the lyrics and your actions in his head. You were a self reliant person.

You sang this song in reminder that you were loved, beautiful and was protected by the few people that truly loved you. This song was meant to keep you alive.

To keep him going.

And now

It was a vow from him to his daughter.

"You are the most beautiful thing that has came."

Smiling sadly down to his baby now calmed down and listening intently to her daddy, Akaashi leans down to press kisses on her face with his tears sliding down.

He should've sang this to you when you needed it the most. A reminder of what you truly were to him. He hopes deep inside, somewhere up there or in his room you were listening. Listening to him remind you and his daughter— his world and universe, that he was going to be stronger and fulfill his own promises.

One day he was going to meet you in another life he believed, where he'd make you stay, where you and him will raise your little girl once again and he'll wake up next to you. Where he'll be the one singing this lullaby tune as he hold you both in his arms.

But for now, it was just going to be him and his baby girl.

"I will, protect you. Forever, my love."

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leilabeaux · 4 years

Text

Luck Be a Lady

Chapter Four

Masterlist | One Two Three

Pairing: Alex x Reader

Word Count: 2161

Summary: Reader has some regrets and she learns something new about Alex.

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: And this is where I leave you. ::tips hat and rides off into the sunset:: On a real note, sorry for the lack of updates. Work and personal life has been hectic and wearing your girl down.

----

The bright lights of the Vegas Strip illuminated the living room enough that you didn’t bother turning on any lights as you left your bedroom. Now dressed down in your worn-out, oversized hoodie and pajama shorts, you walked over to the wet bar and pulled a bottle of vodka down from the shelf, not caring how overpriced it was. You thought about grabbing a glass but instead shrugged and took a swig straight from the bottle.

Settling on the wide marble ledge, you looked past your reflection in the window to peer down at the sparse traffic on the streets. You felt so physically drained after all the tears you’ve shed. You rubbed your bare face in embarrassment, mortified over letting all your emotions get in the way and ruining what was otherwise a nice evening.

Now that you weren’t in the middle of a panic attack, you regretted reacting too quickly when you told Alex to leave. You wished you could have him come back or at least text him so you could explain yourself but you two never took a moment to exchange numbers. Not like it would make much of a difference anyway, you were sure he was grateful to get some distance away from your crazy ass.

You didn’t bother looking over when you heard the door unlock and open. The clicking of heels confirmed it was your best friend doing her walk of shame, or stride of pride as she lovingly called it.

“So I didn’t see any sign of your Lover Boy when I snuck out of Marco’s room,” Bianca teased. You could hear her plop down onto the couch and then soft thuds of what you assumed were her shoes being dropped on the floor. “Is he here? Did you wear him out? Why are we sitting in the fucking dark?”

Light had filled the room after she clicked on a lamp. Although you were no longer crying, you knew your red, puffy eyes would give you away when you turned to look at her.

“Oh my god! What the fuck happened?” She rushed over to join you on the ledge. “What did that fucker do?”

“He didn’t do anything,” you gave a small smile, trying to put her worries to rest but as all the emotions from the night went through you again, you couldn’t stop your eyes from welling up.

Bianca wrapped her arms around you, comforting you until you were ready to talk. Her hand rubbed your back as you softly sniffled into her shoulder.

“What happened, sweetie? Are you sure he didn’t do anything? Because I won’t hesitate to put my shoes back on and kick his ass if I need to.”

“No, Alex was sweet and a total gentleman the entire night. So you can calm down with all of that.” You pulled away from her, drying your face with the back of your sleeve before giving her a quick run through of your night. “We were kissing and everything was good and...I don’t know. It felt familiar.”

“Familiar how?”

“It was like being with Trevor again. I know him and Alex couldn’t be anymore different but it somehow felt the same. And then all I could think of was him and how much I missed him. I just felt guilty like I was cheating on him.”

Bianca shook her head as she took your hand in hers. “Y/N, you have nothing to feel guilty about. Trevor's been gone for almost two years now. It’s perfectly fine to move on whether if it’s a relationship or just sex. I know he would want you to be with someone who makes you happy.”

“It still feels too soon, maybe I’m not ready to be with anyone. Ugh, as if being with Alex would be possible especially after I freaked out on him,” you clasped your hand on your forehead, grimacing over that memory. “And I basically told him I was married.”

“What? Why?” Bianca looked at you like you were crazy.

“He saw my ring and asked how long I was married. So I told him eight years.” It technically wasn’t a lie. You had been married for about eight years before a deputy stood at your doorstep, telling you that your husband would never be returning home. “You know I hate the pitiful look people give me when they hear I’m a widow. And I thought it would be easier to push him away if I pretended that I was a faithful wife. But fuck, man, I couldn’t even keep that up!”

“It’s not too late to tell him all of this. I think I might remember what room they’re staying in.”

“Okay, even if he doesn’t think I’m crazy after all of that, I don’t think me and him would work. He’s young and I barely had the patience to deal with Trevor when he was that age. And he doesn’t even live in this country,” you tried to reason with her and maybe with your heart.

“Okay, he’s young and he doesn’t go here. So what?”

“I just think getting into a long distance relationship after losing your husband is a disaster.”

“Or it could be something beautiful. I’m sorry, Y/N. But if this boy could give even a fraction of happiness that Trevor gave you, then I’m all for it.”

You gnawed on your lip as you considered what she was telling you. You were too scared to take the risk. You were convinced that it would only end in heartbreak and you weren’t sure if you had enough strength to deal with another one of those again.

“I think I’m just too tired to deal with any of this right now...or ever.” You turned toward the window, staring at your worn down reflection. Definitely too damn tired.

——

The snow outside of your kitchen window was coming down hard and didn't show any signs of stopping. You sighed to yourself while emptying the remainder of the wine bottle into your glass, silently praying that you wouldn’t find yourself snowed in in the morning.

You sat on the couch, pulling the cozy throw up to your chin and trying to get comfortable while your lovable dog and cat duo, Dallas and Leeloo, were busy fighting over the spot next to you. Unfortunately for the young feline, it seemed like the elder Labrador was coming out to be the winner.

You sipped on your wine as you scrolled through Hulu for something to distract you from your headache of a night—your first and definitely last Tinder date.

You had spent twenty embarrassing minutes waiting for your date to return after he excused himself to the restroom. There was no devastation on your part. You didn’t feel the same chemistry in person that you had over messages but you were willing to at least wish him a good night like a decent person. You deleted the app on your way out, already convinced that nothing good would be coming from it.

You weren’t even mad at this guy. All of your annoyance was aimed at Bianca who had spent the last six months encouraging—nagging and begging—you to go out and start dating. She claimed that it was officially time for you to start moving on but you suspected she just wanted you to see how wrong you were for letting the potential Mr. Right in Vegas get away.

You’d never tell her but she was right and you didn’t need a string of bad or mediocre dates to find that out. The nights you used to spend in bed wondering how life would be if Trevor was still alive were now spent thinking of what could have been with Alex. From the small amount of time you spent with him, you knew he would be the caring, supportive boyfriend who’d hang on every word you said and whisper into your ear to ease any of your self doubts and do anything to make you smile.

You had tried to search for him with the very minimal details you knew about him, during one very lonely night spent with a bottle of whiskey, but none of the Copenhagen based photographers named Alex turned out to be the one you were looking for. It shouldn’t have been too shocking but your drunk self still took it a bit hard, spending part of the night lying on the kitchen floor and crying into Dallas’s fur.

You gave up on finding something uplifting to watch and settled with the historical drama you had been slowly working your way through the past few months. You originally didn’t think a show about Vikings would be your cup of tea as you were more of a sucker for the period pieces with more extravagant, vibrant costumes but it came highly recommended by your Vegas fling. He said it was a pretty good show. After three seasons and nine episodes, he definitely wasn’t wrong.

You were down to the last ten minutes of the episode where Bjorn was going up to his brothers’ cabin. You had downed the rest of your glass only to spit it all out, your pets scurrying away to avoid the spray, when grown Ivar rolled over to show his face.

“What...the fuck?” You whispered to yourself as the scene cutaway. Your mouth hung open and your eyes were glued to the screen.

“What the fuck?” You repeated again when you saw Marco on the screen next to Alex. “Why would they do that to his hair?”

As soon as the episode ended, you sat still with your brow furrowed. You went through all the conversations you had and didn’t remember him saying he was an actor nor that he starred in this “pretty good” show.

You grabbed your phone to do a quick google search of who played Ivar. Alex Høgh Andersen. This entire time you had access to his name. If only you had given in to your urge to binge watch the show in one sitting you would have had it sooner.

You pulled up your Instagram and typed in his name. As you were about to click on his account, you quickly changed your mind and threw your phone next to you on the couch as if it scorched you. You weren’t seriously going to stalk this man on the internet, you were a whole grown woman who was definitely too mature to be drooling over some pictures.

Getting up to get ready for bed, you left your phone where it was so it would be less of a temptation. But you found that you couldn’t help but stare at it through the mirror as you aggressively brushed your teeth. Your curiosity was beginning to get the best of you.

You quickly rinsed out your mouth and walked toward your couch but then turned around, shaking your head as you headed down the hall to your bedroom. Leeloo and Dallas sat next to each other in the living room, both looking down the hall and not bothering to follow as if certain you’d be back.

“I’m just going to look at a few pictures. Just see what he’s been up to,” you explained to no one when you returned for your phone. Standing in the middle of your living room, you looked through his posts from the funny videos to his beautiful photography. You thought maybe you spent too much time scrolling through when you found yourself unable to stop staring at his well defined arm as he hovered over a mattress.

It wouldn’t be too crazy if you sent him a message to catch up and see how he was doing. Or would it? What would you even say? “Hi, remember me? The woman you ate out in Vegas. You know the one who broke down before you got a chance to get it in? Oh, and remember how I said I was married? Surprise! I’m actually a widow and lied because I got scared over you being so into me and even more scared when I realized I may have felt the same.”

You kept going back and forth over what you should really say to him, typing one thing only to immediately delete it. Seemed like anything you wrote came out sounding awkward or just dumb.

“Hi, I’m not sure if you remember me? It’s Y/N. The baker you met in Vegas.” It was enough to start a conversation but would he think you’re only contacting him because you now knew he was an actor. Your thumb hovered over send as you contemplated your choice.

You looked up at the clock and sighed out loud. You couldn’t afford to waste anymore time on this unless you wanted to be a zombie when you went into work in the morning.

You brought your thumb down and hit send. Fuck it.

----

End Notes: This is the last chapter of this part but not the end of their story. So don’t be too mad at me. Will Alex read her message? Will they ever meet again? Does Reader need to tell Bianca that she was right?

Tags: @castielsangelsx @xbellaxcarolinax @didiintheblog @jzr201 @kaitieskidmore1 @eroguroshoujo

#alex høgh andersen #alex høgh andersen x reader #alex høgh andersen imagine #alex høgh x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar x reader

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gone4neow · 5 years

Text

The New King ♔ dks

Chapter Four

- kyungsoo x reader, royalty AU, prince!kyungsoo

- warnings : swearing, mature content, arranged marriage, good looking men

- word count : 3,080

chapter three or chapter five or masterlist

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

The princess held onto Sehun's hand loosely as they made their way towards the fitness hall, where they were going to be participating in some archery. Sehun's friends trailed behind them closely, all chattering away excitedly about the sport. The princess was excited herself. She had grown up learning all about archery, since her father claimed it was only logical that he taught her in case she ever needed to fend for herself in the wild. She hadn't so far, and perhaps she never would have to, but she had grown to be excellent at the sport.

She was so used to be included in things the rest of the world deemed too masculine for women that she was genuinely surprised when the group of men excluded her from their fun after their arrival. She watched all of them ready up to enjoy themselves while she stood off to the side. They smiled and laughed with one another, all selecting the finest bows she had ever seen in her life. The frown on her face could not be hidden, no matter how much she tried to hide it.

"The princess seems sad today. What have you done now, Sehun?" Baekhyun spoke to his friend loudly, making sure that the princess heard every word. She continued to look in a different direction and pretended she had not heard a single one. Sehun glanced up at his future wife and a frown of his own formed on his face.

"Nothing. I'm not sure what's wrong with her," Sehun remarked. Kyungsoo handed his brother his bow but didn't join in on the conversation. He was curious as to what had upset the princess himself, but it wasn't the place or time to make such a fuss. The men continued on with their activities, taking turns releasing their arrows from their bows. The princess was impressed with their abilities but she knew she could do better.

"Do you want to learn how to shoot a bow?" Sehun during the boys' snack break. They all looked at her while they ate on their sandwiches. She wanted to laugh at his question, knowing good and well that she already knew how to shoot a bow.

"Are you saying I have permission to use the bow?" She answered with a question of her own. Prince Sehun held up his bow to her as an offering and she could not have moved quicker to take it from his hold. She felt as if she had been given water after being dehydrated for months. The group boys started to chat amongst themselves loudly as they watched the princess pick up an arrow. She stood where the prince had stood only minutes before, copied his posture, and pulled the string of the bow back without any complications. Suddenly, the loud volume behind her came to a halt. There was only silence as she readied her arrow.

A moment later, the arrow was released from its hold. It soared through the air in one smooth movement before it buried itself in the center of the target the boys had been using. She couldn't keep the corner of her lips from lifting into a victorious smirk. The boys behind her erupted in a sudden chaos.

"Did you just see that?"

"She shoots better than Jongin does!"

"Jongin? She shoots better than all of us combined!"

"Speak for yourself Baekhyun. You suck at archery."

"Yah! You want to make it personal do you?"

She turned on her heels and walked back over to the group, where she handed Prince Sehun his bow without another word. He sat with wide eyes and parted lips. She was surprised when he began to laugh with disbelief.

"Where did you learn that?" He asked her.

"My father taught me," she confessed. If her mother seen her now she would have a stroke immediately. It felt nice to be able to show off her skills to someone that wasn't her father.

"He should give Baekhyun lessons," Jongdae joked as he wrapped his arms around the man's shoulders. Baekhyun didn't even disagree - he only nodded as he took another bite from his sandwich.

"He left to return home this morning," The princess told the group of friends. She already missed her father and his honey-like eyes.

"Your father shouldn't allow you to participate in a man's game," Sehun told her. From his tone, he hadn't intended for his words to have such a venomous bite to them but they did. The princess felt her heartbeat skip as anger began to seep through her veins and circulate to her heart. She looked at him with raised eyebrows and every man near them took a step backwards. Even Kyungsoo, the man in which she feared had become frightened for his brother.

"Why? Is it because I do it better than you or is it because you can't do it as well as I can?" She retorted. Prince Sehun scoffed.

"Better than me? That was a luck shot. No woman in this universe would be able to shoot a shot like that more than once," he continued on. She narrowed her eyes at the man, and tried to remember the last time she had been so angry. The only person to ever get her this riled up was her mother. She was so sick of living in a world where people found women inferior to men. Without another word, she picked the bow back up and returned back to her place in front of the target. A few minutes later, she had shot three arrows into the center of the target. She turned to look at the prince with a scowl. He was staring at her as if she had just kicked his puppy.

To drive her point home, she picked up one last arrow. She aimed it at his head, to which he jumped up from his seat quickly. She released it, moving the bow at the last minute so the arrow would land where he had just been sitting. He gaped at her in disbelief while his friends cackled at the sharp gasp he had released at the moment the arrow had flown in his direction. They began to applaud for the princess as she neared them. She paused in front of Sehun before she shoved his bow into his chest. His hands grabbed at its wooden frame just as she let it drop from her hold.

"You should be careful when speaking in such a way to women. Not all of us go along with men's idiotic views of us," she told him. It was the last thing she said before she left the group of men standing with their half eaten sandwiches and wide eyes.

"That girl," Sehun hissed under his breath.

"Yah, if you don't marry her I will," Baekhyun told Sehun as he wrapped an arm around the man's shoulders.

"I've never seen the princess so angry before," Jongin commented as he turned to look at Kyungsoo. The prince looked away from the princess's retreating figure and up at his friend. He agreed quietly and watched as Jongin shook his head in disbelief.

With her father gone and no friends to run to, the princess found herself deciding between two places to run to for comfort: her chambers or the stables. Ever since her trip to the village, Prince Kyungsoo's horse had been a thought stuck in the back of her mind. She wished she was able to ride Striker throughout the entire kingdom. If she focus hard enough, she could almost feel the air blowing in her hair already. It had been such a long time since she had been able to feel as free as she did when she rode liberally on horseback.

Her mind told her to hide away in her chambers because it was only logical, but the adventurer in her heart was screaming to go to the stables. She navigated through the castle until she was met with the warm air outside once more. Guards were scattered throughout the area but she was not concerned with them. She had a goal today.

The stables weren't busy today. Horses ran freely in their fenced in areas and the princess was so awestruck by the sight that she had to stop and observe. She laid her arms against the top of the fence and rested her head against the soft skin of her arms as she watched the beautiful creatures enjoy themselves. When she found Striker hanging out near the far end of the pen she couldn't help but raise her head to look at him. She clicked her tongue loudly, hoping to gain his attention. Just when she thought he hadn't noticed her, he began to gallop in her direction. A wide grin formed on her face and for the second time that day she felt victorious.

The horse neared her but did not fully approach her. He was somewhat shy, despite his obvious boastful nature. He raised his head highly as if taunting the other horses with how beautiful he was. She laughed and stuck her hand out at him. Still, he kept his distance from her. She called out his name lowly and in a loving way soon after. It was like the princess had attached a pair of magnets on her and the creature. He came to her instantly, allowing her to pet his snout tenderly. She shared compliments in the form of a soft whisper as she did so, already forgetting the events from earlier.

The princess was so focused on the horse that she hadn't heard the footsteps approaching her from behind. It didn't help that the footsteps were quiet, even against the gravel covered ground beneath them. Prince Kyungsoo did not speak as he came to stand next to the princess's side. Instead, he found himself reaching out to pet the horse lovingly. The princess glanced over at him and sighed softly once she realized it was him.

"Did you know I would be here?" She questioned quietly.

"No. I came to visit Striker. I can't say I'm surprised to find you here, though," he admitted to her. Her face contoured into confusion at the admission.

"Why?" She couldn't help but ask.

"I seem to find you in all of my favorite places. Are you stalking me, Princess?" He told her with a hint of teasing in his voice.

"The idea of stalking you hadn't popped up into my head yet, but now that you've mentioned it I can't say it's a bad idea," she replied to him.

"Why's that?" He wondered aloud.

"Your the only person in this entire kingdom that hasn't given me a complete headache yet," she told him. He laughed an airy laugh, as if he weren't completely convinced it was the truth, and let his head drop slightly.

"My brother doesn't mean to hurt your feelings. He was brought up to believe the things he does," The prince tried to defend his brother after a brief session of silence. The princess looked away from him and back at the horse in front of them.

"Then you must believe the same things," she commented with a dry mouth.

"No," The prince denied. She looked back over at him curiously, as if she would see a sign on his face that would scream I'm a liar. When she didn't find one she felt her heartbeat quicken. His stare was as intense as ever and the thought of him viewing her as a woman who wasn't just a pretty face or a helpless maid had her feeling a way she had never felt about a man before. Oh, how easy it would have been if they universe had given her him and not his brother. It was like a wave of confidence washed over her now that she knew the prince looked at her as an equal.

"I'm going to go somewhere. Would you like to join me?" The prince spoke before she could. She was thankful, as she wasn't sure what would roll off of her tongue in that moment.

In less than ten minutes, Kyungsoo had gotten Striker ready for a ride and had turned to the princess to help her climb on. She waited for her to join, surprised when he settled behind her instead of in front of her. He handed her the reins and didn't say a word about it. He didn't have to. She understood everything from the way he had looked into her eyes. He patiently told the princess what direction to ride in and she listened. That feeling of freedom that she had craved earlier had washed over her entire body in the span of just a few minutes. Though her hair was tied up and could not blow in the wind as she had pictured it, she did feel the warm glow of the sun hitting her exposed skin. Kyungsoo leaned back as he felt the cool summer breeze brush across his face, and he knew that this was a memory he would never forget. He could hear the sound of the princess laughing freely for the first time since he had met her and it paired so perfectly with the sound of the birds hiding away in the treetops as they rode through the woods.

They eventually arrived at their destination. Kyungsoo helped the princess climb down from the back of Striker. She thanked him quietly but did not look at him - she was far too interested in the sight before her. The prince had brought her to a natural spring, that resembled a small, raging waterfall. It led to a small pool of water that looked far too inviting as they stood under the rays of the sun.

"This place is beautiful. How did you find it?" The princess spoke in a dreamy tone as she asked the question.

"My brother has a tendency to upset people, I suppose. I come here when I need to clear my head," he explained to her. He watched as she approached the small pool of water with fast footsteps. She raised the ends of her gown as she stuck her toes in the water. It felt perfectly cool against her warm skin. Without a second thought, she let down her hair and shrugged off her gown. Kyungsoo's eyes widened as he watched and wondered if his face was as flushed as he imagined it to be. The princess climbed into the water once she was left in nothing but her undergarments, which consisted of underwear and a thin, white gown. She ducked underneath the surface of the water and emerged a few seconds later, screaming out in delight as she pushed her hair out of her face.

"Join me!" She called out to the prince.

"Princess, I don't-"

"My name is Grace. Call me by my name when we are alone."

"That's pushing boundaries."

"It doesn't have to be."

The two stared at each other without speaking for a moment. Kyungsoo's heartbeat had never raced like this before. He had brought the princess here to convince her to forgive his brother, or so he had convinced himself that's why he had, but he wasn't so sure he could do that now. All his life it had been Sehun who had gotten everything he wanted and Kyungsoo had finally found something that he refused to let his brother have. With that thought in mind, he began to shrug off his royal garmets one by one. His skin felt on fire under the burning stare of the princess but he continued his actions.

The princess admired him from her spot in the water. His skin was the shade of the sweetest caramel and it glowed beautiful as the sun shone down on the man. The way he looked at her would intimidate anyone else, but she felt almost comforted by the sight. He joined her in the water with footsteps that seemed too drawn out for her liking. His face reveal how deeply he enjoyed the feeling of the cool water tickling at all inches of his skin.

"My mother would murder me if she found us out here," The princess whispered quietly, needing to say something.

"My father wouldn't approve of me being in this situation with my brother's fiancée," Kyungsoo replied lowly. It was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. Why was it so right, though? The princess felt similar to the prince, but as she swam closer to him all the thoughts in her mind were slowly vanishing. She wrapped her legs around his waist once she was close enough to him and brought her arms to rest around his neck. He watched her closely, not knowing what her next move would be. He never did.

She stared at him for a moment before she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his own plump, heart shaped lips. He was frozen for a second, not responding to the kiss. She went to pull away and her body already glowed with embarrassment. Kyungsoo lifted his hand and rested it against the back of her head before he connected their lips again. This time was far better than the first. The kiss was slow and dripping with so much passion that she could feel it crawling up her spine. The prince surprised her when he let his tongue dart across her bottom lip, and she couldn't resist allowing him to taste her. She knew, as she kissed the prince back feverishly, that there was no chance that she would ever be able to love the eldest prince. She was putty in Prince Kyungsoo's hands.

When they parted, they were panting slightly as if they had just finished a game of tag. Their eyes were locked, both not knowing if they could look away. A small smile formed on the princess's face and before she knew it she was throwing her head back with joyful laughter. Prince Kyungsoo smiled widely at the sound.

"Lets never return back to the kingdom," she suggested once her laughter had faded away.

"We'll run," he told her in a gentle tone. All smiles and laughter were gone. She let one of her hands rest against the side of his face, her thumb running over the skin of his round cheek softly. There was a sad expression on her face.

"We can't."

a/n : hi!! just wanted to pop in and say thank you to everyone that has been reading my story! i’m actually quite shy when it comes to sharing my works and this is the first time i’ve actually published anything so i hope everyone enjoys it! i also wanted to clarify that i don’t think Sehun would ever make comments such as the ones made in this chapter or even believe in any of that - but it’s fiction and i feel that in this time setting and au he would definitely use these kind of common beliefs to get under the princess’s skin. point is : Sehun is a sweetheart (or as sweet as an Aries can get, haha)

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