#before offering your decades long crush to stay living with you for potentially forever

[thefriendoforatioisdead]

Okay okay okay let me guess !

Gen was already in love with Aoey back in school and she is not the one who wanted to stop being her friend but someone forced her to because Aoey was not an ''appropriate'' friend for a girl like Gen which would explain why she's already so obviously in love with her, taking care of her, worrying for her and desperately wanting to keep her close. She simply never stopped being in love with her.

[findmeinpops]

FindMeInPops’ 12 Days of Christmas: Day Twelve - Southside Archive Secret Santa

Merry Christmas Liz ( @worriestothewind​ )! Here we have a festive friends-to-lovers oneshot for Female!Reader x Sweet Pea. I hope you enjoy reading this and that you have a wonderful festive season; I wish you all the best for the new year (and decade!). Harry x 

P.S. Thank you @southsidearchive​ for organising the Secret Santa, it’s much appreciated.

Prompt: Friends to lovers

Ship(s): Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Rating: T

CW(s): Cursing, alcohol

Gifted: Liz ( @worriestothewind​ )

@riverdalebingo​ : A Christmas Bet

Reindeer Games: Prancer - Parties

As Y/N was pushing the pins into her hair to hold up her half-up half-down do, she could only think about how little she wanted to go out tonight. Every year the Southside Serpents held a festive party in the Whyte Wyrm - she had no clue how they could even afford the place considering their low budget but it probably did not hurt that FP, the current leader of the Southside gang, was brothers with the owner.

Y/N had joined the Southside Serpents three years ago so there had only been three parties since Y/N had first been permitted to go, and she was rather glad that she had only ever been roped into attending one of them; every other time she had been quite happy to stay at home, curled up in bed. Her best friend Sweet Pea had voluntarily attended each one, unfortunately for her, so she had been left at home alone to entertain herself. But this time he was dragging her along with him.

“I still can’t believe you persuaded me to go to this party,” Y/N complained, casually strolling out of her ensuite bathroom and standing in front of Sweet Pea, hands on her hips in the only act of defiance she could muster right then. He drew his eyes away from his phone, looking up from his position on her bed, not batting an eyelid at her half-clothed state.

It was an almost amusing contrast to see Sweet Pea in the setting of Y/N’s room; the floral pink duvet cover against the fully-black biker look, that Sweet Pea seemed to have had ever since he left the womb, would have been shocking to most. To be fair, his dark attire wasn’t all that different from Y/N’s typical outfits of choice, but she had an affinity for all things pink, pastel, and floral when it came to her decor and belonging, only preferring grayscale when it came to clothes.

Y/N and Sweet Pea had been best friends since birth, or near enough; they were both Serpent legacies, but Y/N’s family was somewhat more stable than Pea’s. When Sweet Pea hit the ripe old age of six months, his father took it upon himself to high-tail out of Riverdale to go and live with his pregnant mistress. A single, working, new-mother, his mom often resorted to leaving Pea with the Y/L/Ns’ and the pair became fast friends. They grew up together and, although they did occasionally venture outside of their partnership, they were each other’s closest friend. And it was for this exact reason that Sweet Pea had no reaction to Y/N standing in front of him in only a black mini skirt, fishnets, and bra.

“We need to leave in half an hour. Are you going like that?” Sweet Pea commented dryly.

“Pea,” She moaned, continuing to complain just in case he would allow her reprieve from their plans.

“It’s up to you, but I think FP may have something to say about your outfit of choice.”

“Pea, please?” She pouted, clasping her hands in front of her chest.

Sweet Pea sighed, dropping his phone between his crossed legs. “I believe we had an agreement, sweetheart.”

“Yes, and I will be forever grateful that you are not forcing me to go to the New Year’s party or any other Serpent festive gathering for the rest of this year, but,” Y/N crouched down, a hand on each of Pea’s knees, “would you not much rather be curled up with yours truly, hot chocolate, and a Christmas comedy on the TV?”

She tried to pull her most enticing puppy-dog face--which nine times out of ten melted Pea into a puddle at her feet, but not this time.

“A deal’s a deal.” He gave her a pointed look which softened slightly when he saw genuine disappointment flicker through Y/N’s eyes. “Hey,” he placed his hands on top of hers, running his thumbs over the back of them, “I’ll be there and I promise we can be back here by one am. I’ll even try to persuade your mom to let me sleep over and we can cuddle with hot chocolate and a comedy then.” The placating smile he offered did nothing as she rolled her eyes, pushing up from her position.

“You don’t need to persuade my mom to do anything.” She wandered over to her dresser, picking up her makeup bag before plopping herself down on the floor in front of the full-length mirror attached to her wardrobe. “She fucking loves you.” And didn’t Y/N know it.

‘Sweet Pea is such a nice boy’, ‘why don’t you date Sweet Pea’, ‘wouldn’t it be wonderful if Sweet Pea was my son-in-law,’ – Y/N never heard the end of how much her mother adored Pea but what her mother (or Pea for that matter) did not know is how much Y/N and her mother were in agreement in wishing that Pea would date her.

For as long as they’d been friends, Y/N had known that she loved Sweet Pea, but it was not until a moment in their teens, when she had had the sudden urge to grab him by the neck and crush his lips to hers, did she realise the love was no longer solely platonic.

Y/N had a crush on her lifelong best friend and he did not have a single fucking clue.

She had briefly entertained the thought of initiating something between them but the potential of losing Pea over such a thing was a devastating concept and so the idea was killed in moments. Regardless, Y/N knew that Sweet Pea had a huge crush on Toni, not that he had told her this, but she had noticed the way he smiled at her - that was the smile of a boy who was crushing on a girl.

Each time Y/N saw that smile, there was always a small twinge in her gut but she was determined to make her best friend happy, no longer caring that it would not be with her. Sweet Pea deserved to be happy.

“But she doesn’t love me as much as I love you.” He sent her a faux sickly-sweet smile in the mirror, forcing her eyes to roll yet again.

Drawing on her eyeliner, Y/N could not stop her mind from imagining him meaning it the way that she secretly hoped he would. No, she had to reprimand herself, Sweet Pea had been with her through thick and thin, spent many evenings soothing her as she sobbed over this and that as well as always having her back. She loved him regardless of context and, because of this, she wanted and needed him to be happy – if Pea wanted to be with Toni then she would make it happen.

“I fucking love you.” Their little phrase left her lips as she finished up the liner on her second eye.

“And I fucking love you,” he replied, as they shared a genuine smile before delving back into their respective tasks – Y/N applying minimal makeup for the forced exertion from her home and Sweet Pea texting whoever.

******

Riding on the back of a motorcycle in a skirt was never really the best of ideas, but it was a dark December evening and no one would see. But what Y/N had not considered was how bad of an idea it was to ride on the back of a motorcycle, in the middle of December, at night, in fishnets and a skirt.

“Holy shit, I’m freezing,” she exclaimed, jumping from the seat as soon as Sweet Pea turned the engine off.

“Yeah, probably not the best of our ideas,” Sweet Pea reasoned, sliding off the seat a lot more smoothly. He placed a hand on either of her arms, rubbing his hands up and down her clothed skin, trying to create a little heat.

“Our idea? Please, I wanted to take the car but no, we were already late so you wanted to freeze my tits off.”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes at that before gripping her wrist in one hand, pocketing his keys with the other, and all but dragging her towards the bar door.

“I’m freezing, my legs are going to fall off, and I do not want to be here.” Y/N continued to complain and Sweet Pea could only compare her to a toddler having a tantrum.

They stopped just shy of the closed door, muffled music and chattering could be heard on the other side, and the glow of multi-coloured lights could be seen through the frosted panes of the windows. It all looked rather cozy and, if there weren’t fifty other people in there, Y/N would have probably been quite happy to enter.

“Stop being dramatic, we had a deal. These parties normally suck--”

She opened her mouth to interrupt but a slight glare from Sweet Pea stopped the words in their place.

“--but my bestest friend in the whole entire world is here and you’re going to make the experience so much better. Then, we will go home, maybe catch a lift with someone since I quite like your legs being attached,” he spared a glance to her goose-bump covered skin, “and we will drink hot chocolate and watch a movie.”

He took one of her hands in his, neither of their fingers particularly warm, and began to push on the door before stopping and turning back to face Y/N. “Oh, and Toni’s here.”

Ah, how could she forget her plan, although she wasn’t entirely sure why Pea thought that this would be an incentive for her to enter, he had no idea that she was aware of his crush. Y/N was going to somehow get her best friend to ask out Toni by the end of the night, whether she said yes was out of Y/N’s control, but she would be sure to get Sweet Pea to confess... somehow…

With a small smile now gracing her lips, they both pushed through the door into the large bar area, welcoming the overwhelming warmth that hit them as well as the tangy smell of alcohol. Hog Eye, the owner of the Whyte Wyrm, had strung fairylights along the walls and a small Christmas tree sat on the bar, adorned with the same multi-coloured lights and several red shiny baubles. People were scattered all over the large room, drinks in hand, and loudly chatting away as Bing Crosby was crooning out ‘White Christmas’.

Y/N hummed along as she handed her coat to Sweet Pea to hang on the coat stand, nodding a silent thanks as she continued to take in the room. It was whilst doing this that she spotted several bunches of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and then she had her plan. Now she just had to lure Toni and Sweet Pea over to one of the many bunches of mistletoe. She began to search for Toni but the latter had already spotted them and was waving them over to where she stood with a small group of her friends.

“Let’s join Toni,” Sweet Pea spoke before Y/N had the chance, sending a nod towards the fellow Serpent.

“Hey guys, cold out isn’t it?” Toni greeted each of them with a hug once they made their way through the crowd. This was not too much of a feat, though, as they tended to part easily for Sweet Pea as he towered over most people.

“Sure is. This idiot decided to ride on the bike wearing fishnets.” Sweet Pea knocked Y/N with his elbow, sending a kind smile to let her know he was only joking.

“Sure, sure, my fault, I know.” Y/N rolled her eyes goodnaturedly, bumping her best friend back with her hip.

“Well, at least it’s warm in here, you’ll be alright in no time,” Toni replied before pulling on the arm of a tall redhead beside her, who turned away from her current conversation. To say Y/N was shocked to see Cheryl Blossom in the Whyte Wyrm would be an understatement. It had been a few years since they had all graduated from Riverdale High, but Cheryl had always been an incredibly preppy individual, to put it kindly, who had deemed herself higher than most others around her. She and her brother, Jason, had practically ruled the school, hardly sparing a glance to others, particularly the transfers from Southside High who were made bottom of the food chain. She had obviously come a long way from her time in high school.

“Sweet Pea, Y/N, I’m sure you remember Cheryl.” Cheryl wiggled her fingers in a small wave and offered a sheepish smile as they were introduced. “She’s a ‘trainee serpent’, so to speak. FP is considering her for the initiation.”

Both Y/N and Sweet Pea’s eyes widened comically. Tonight was full of surprises. It was one thing for the Cheryl they knew to willingly surround herself and be associated with Serpents, but for her to also desire to become a Serpent - perhaps she had hit her head.

Cheryl must have noticed their expressions as she was quick to pull her hands together in a pleading gesture. “I know and I sincerely apologise for the unacceptable and truly horrible way I treated you and your fellow Serpents throughout our time at Riverdale High. I promise that I have changed my ways since graduation and, with the help of TT, I hope to show you how true this transformation is.”

“Of course, I’m sure we’ll see more of each other through Serpent business, but we can always hang out. It’s a regular thing we do with Toni,” Sweet Pea answered for both of them, swinging an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, signalling for her to nod her agreement.

“Brilliant.” Cheryl grinned.

A slightly awkward silence settled around the four of them, something that was most likely due to all of their being unsure how to act with Cheryl around. Y/N’s eyes flitted around the room, not knowing where to land, trying to avoid having to make stilted conversation. Her eyes just happened to catch on a particular bunch of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above the bar.

Being in such close proximity with Pea heated her skin, something that was putting Y/N off of the whole scheme she had created, but the look that appeared on Pea’s face each time he saw Toni reappeared in her mind; she wanted only the best for him and for him to be happy and, because of that, she would continue forward with her plan.

“I don’t know about you, but I need a drink” Y/N broke the silence, and relief noticeably appeared on Pea and Toni’s faces, Cheryl seemingly oblivious. Pretending to notice Toni’s lack of drink in hand, you added, “Toni, why don’t you join us at the bar.”

Pea’s eyes narrowed slightly, trying to work out why she had intentionally omitted Cheryl from the invitation but seemingly settled on ignoring it for now, he released his arm from around Y/N’s shoulders before chiming in, “yeah, I’ll cover this round.”

“And I’ll stay here and make conversation with my soon-to-be fellow Serpents.” Cheryl did not seem overly bothered about her exclusion, smiling and nodding before making her way across the room to a group of younger Serpents.

Y/N led the three of them over, placing herself at the front of the group so she could strategically lead them over to the right-hand side of the bar where the mistletoe hung. She settled herself at the very far end, resting her arm on the sticky surface so that Toni and Sweet Pea would be forced to stand together at her left.

“Y/N, Sweet Pea, nice to see ya,” Hog Eye greeted, coming directly to the trio, bypassing a few already waiting patrons.

Y/N and Sweet Pea had helped out Hog Eye quite a bit over the last year. The Ghoulies, before they were run out of town, had made an attack on the Whyte Wyrm, destroying half of the bar, and the pair had been a part of a few Serpents who had helped reassemble the place. Veronica had pitched in the money necessary, due to feeling guilty about her father being partially responsible for the attack, so Y/N and Sweet Pea just offered some manpower, as well as occasionally taking up some shifts at the bar while Hog Eye was recovering from injuries he sustained during the ordeal.

Nevertheless, Hog Eye had been incredibly grateful and had no qualms ignoring the already waiting customers to serve them. “Toni too, I see. What can I get you three?”

“I’ll have a bourbon, please, Hog Eye, you know how I like it,” Y/N replied. “Pea’s driving so he’ll just have a coke?” Sweet Pea nodded to her question. “And Toni, what do you want?” Y/N turned to Toni who seemed distracted but requested a Jack and coke at her prompting.

As Hog Eye was pouring the drinks, Toni zoned out again, slowly gaining a mischievous twinkle in her eye paired with a not-so-hidden grin. “Y’know, Y/N, you’re looking hot as hell tonight.”

Y/N turned bright red at Toni’s words, and she wanted nothing more than to hit her head on the bar counter in embarrassment. A similar, but more subtle, pink dusted Sweet Pea’s cheeks. It was also joined by a small smirk.

“Um, thanks I--”

“Yeah, you look amazing, let me take a photo of your outfit. And Sweet Pea! Sweet Pea can be in the photo as well.” She was talking so frantically that neither Y/N or Sweet Pea really understood what was going on so when Toni suddenly gripped Y/N’s arms and spun her around for the picture, Sweet Pea had to grab Y/N by the waist to stop her toppling over.

“Perfect! Just perfect!” Toni exclaimed, pulling her phone out of her jacket pocket. “Now Y/N just move a little closer to Sweet Pea.”

“Do you know what the fuck is going on?” Sweet Pea whispered into Y/N’s ear, causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. She shook her head in answer but also to rid herself of the odd sensation, she could use that bourbon now.

“And smile!”

Toni took the photo. The pair began to move apart from the too-close position before Toni stopped them with a hand, that mischievous look taking over her entire face.

“Would you look at that!” She feigned surprise, tilting her head to the ceiling. Y/N and Sweet Pea followed suit, freezing at what they saw. Shit.

“Mistletoe. You know what that means?”

“No, Toni you were--”

“You’re under the mistletoe, you have to kiss.” Toni seemed to be enjoying Y/N’s squirming, but Y/N was more concerned about Sweet Pea unwrapping his arm from around her waist and pulling away, taking it as rejection. Although it was nothing short of what she expected, it still stung.

“No, Toni, I think Y/N wants you to come here.” Sweet Pea stepped back, motioning Toni over. Y/N could almost scream in frustration, this was not going how she had wanted it to go.

“No, it was supposed to be you and Toni under the--”

“Guys, just get on with--” Toni tried to interrupt Y/N, but Sweet Pea stepped in.

“Wait, you were trying to set me up with Toni?” Y/N swung around to face him, now incredibly concerned that he had taken offence. She had not considered Sweet Pea might consider her scheming overstepping.

“Yes, I just wanted to see you happy and I know you have a crush on--”

“Me? Have a crush on Toni?” Sweet Pea’s eyes were almost bugging out his head.

Their outbursts had gained the attention of a few of the nearest Serpents whilst Hog Eye was trying his very hardest to hold in laughter, his face beginning to resemble a tomato.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to--”

“I thought you had a crush on Toni!” His exclamation caused Y/N to freeze, both of them oblivious to the listening ears and the amused smiles of the entire bar.

“You--I--What?” Y/N could not believe a single word that she was hearing. How had he gotten the idea that she liked Toni? Y/N had noticed how he had always smiled when they approached her and whenever she was mentioned in conversation the same look reappeared; how else was Y/N supposed to interpret this?

“As entertaining as this is, we would all appreciate it if you both shut up.” Toni’s words brought their attention to the silence that otherwise filled the room and the fact that every pair of eyes were trained on them. If Y/N had been embarrassed before, it did not compare to how she felt now.

Heat filled her entire body, and not in a good way, her face radiating as she chewed at the skin on her lower lip. Sweet Pea was hiding his embarrassment somewhat better, but pink still tinged his cheeks and the tips of ears.

“You’re under the mistletoe so stop stalling and just kiss!” a shout came from somewhere in the small crowd.

Sweet Pea shot a glare in the heckler’s direction before he took a step closer as Y/N was still frozen in shock, reaching his hand to cup her cheek, gently tilting her head upwards to face him. His thumb smoothed over her warm cheek as he scanned her eyes for any form of protest--there was some hesitation but also a hefty amount of want. The same thumb ran over her lower lip now, his ring cold on her skin as he pulled her slightly bruised lip from between her teeth. Pea’s gaze left her lips, meeting hers and silently asking for her permission. After a nod, so small that only he would have seen, he brought his other hand up to her unoccupied cheek, guiding her face up so they met in the middle.

Sweet Pea wasted no time in pressing his lips to hers, unable to believe that this was happening and savouring the moment. Y/N broke out of a trance, bringing one arm up to wrap around his neck, threading her fingers through the short hairs at the nape of his neck, ensuring he would not pull away quite yet. It was too soon.

Her lips were on fire, but it was the sparks that spread from their connection through all the nerves in her body that racked her with shivers and set her akin alight. Her other arm settled against his chest, clenching the material of his jumper in her fingers as one of Sweet Pea’s found its place at her waist, pressing her against him, trying to get as much contact as possible.

And then Y/N began to move her lips in a gentle caress, Sweet Pea following suit. There was no rush or urgency, they had time but also a passion as they poured their love for one another into this kiss. The pair moved almost in opposites, caressing each other in turn. Y/N took a gasp of air so Pea seized the chance to run the tip of his tongue along her lower lip, not needing to deepen the kiss further, but savouring the feeling, her touch, her taste, when they were no longer connected. Y/N moved to wrap her other arm around his neck but a loud clearing of a throat registered, triggering Y/N to remember just where they were.

She leant her forehead against Sweet Pea’s chest, her cheeks turning even redder whilst her lungs were still trying to catch up, snickers beginning to filter through to her ears. How could she forget where they were? She probably would have allowed them to progress to a full-on makeout session, without intervention, completely oblivious to the audience they had gained.

Sweet Pea pressed a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head, the hand not on her waist smoothing through her hair. The contact of his skin sent a shiver down her spine, her body obviously not registering their audience.

Once she finally caught her breath and calmed down, she pulled away enough for Sweet Pea to press a small kiss to her nose. An involuntary grin took over her lips and stayed in place as she finally twisted her head to look at the Serpents gathered around.

A chorus of cheering and wolf whistles broke out. Toni still stood behind her, only now joined by Cheryl, who had wrapped an arm around her waist; the former wore an incredibly smug expression whilst the latter simply looked thoroughly entertained. Fangs, on the other hand, who stood a few metres from them, had a slightly childish pout on his face aimed solely at Toni.

“Told you I could do it tonight,” Toni simply said in answer to his expression. “You’re going to have to pay up.” She held her hand out, making a ‘gimme’ motion.

“I don’t have the money on me right now! I was so sure…” the last part seemed to only be spoken to himself.

“You bet on us!” Y/N cried indignantly, wrapping her arms around herself, interlocking her fingers with Pea’s at her waist.

“Only last week,” Toni placated, as if that made it any better.

“If it’s any consolation, Y/N,” Hog Eye spoke unexpectedly. He was leant casually against the wall behind the bar, a smug smile that rivalled Toni’s, adorning his face, “me and yer’ mom have had one going for years.”

“My mom!” Y/N was not angry, per se, but more frustrated with the fact that everyone seemed to have been in a secret conspiracy, even her mom.

“Just don’t tell her about all the mistletoe I put everywhere.” Hog Eye began to full-on belly laugh when Y/N’s eyes bugged out of her head. The rest of the bar, still listening, joined in too.

Y/N twisted back around to properly hug Sweet Pea, wanting to fully gauge his reaction. It seemed she was not alone in her embarrassment, but by the chuckles that were beginning to vibrate through his chest, he was finding the humorous side of things. Y/N sighed. She supposed it was all good-natured.

Y/N‘s gaze flickered over Sweet Pea’s face, taking in the small smile, the slight flush to his handsome features and the twinkle in his forest green eyes. He was truly gorgeous.

“I fucking love you,” she whispered to him, smoothing a lock of his hair back from where it had fallen into his face.

“And I fucking love you.”

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

Fic: Io non ci credo, alle giraffe (FINAL CHAPTER)

So, you can find this chapter on AO3 as well (together with the sappiest epilogue you could ever imagine) and I do hope it lives up to your expectations. It mostly did, to mine. I agonized over writing this fic, but I nearly cried now that it’s over.

This wasn't quite what he had in mind, when he had tried to picture the afterlife. The few times he did that, whilst attending the funerals of some old relative, Martino had conjured up a field of barley. An eternal sunset. A light breeze.

Loved ones, lost too early, ready to show him the ropes and teach him how to haunt his friends for the rest of their lives.

"Boohoo! Poor Marti wanted a welcoming committee in a lovely bucolic setting…" said a grating voice in a harsh and judgemental tone.

Where did it come from? Who was speaking? There was nothing around him. No one.

Only darkness.

"Instead of you've got me. This." The stranger continued. "Because we've got to be predictable, don't we? Unimaginative. But do you know what? Screw you, man. I can do better."

Then he heard a loud, snapping sound and had to shield his eyes from a bright blinding light.

"Are you still there?" Marti asked to his unknown companion.

They didn't sound like a particularly pleasant person, but… Anyone, even Marco - Emma's brutish brother - would do...

'Beggars can't be choosers' as his dad used to say.

"Unbelievable!! You're still quoting him. As if that man ever said anything worth repeating…"

Uhh, this guy sure had some serious beef with his father… and could read his thoughts, apparently? No wonder why the stranger was so grumpy, given that he had been bombarded by flashes of Marti kissing Nico for the last… day?

Week? It was hard to keep track of time when they only thing that existed was you, and your immense loneliness.

"No!! That's not my division, you've got somebody else covering that. I'm in charge of rage, disdain, frustration, resent and pettiness. Yeah, yeah. I do most of the work around here." The more Marti listened to him talking, the less sense he made.

Where were they? Who was he? Where was he hiding?

"I'm not hiding. I'm right behind you."

What? How was that possible? He must have been joking, because Marti would have noticed if… Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A hand that was too familiar in weight and texture. He turned, finally, to face himself.

He looked battered, exhausted, dishevelled. His eyes were red, and teary. His shoulders hunched, as though he had been carrying the weight of the word for quite some time. Wow. It was a lot to take in. Did he really-

"Let me stop you there. Yes, this is how you sound to other people and how they see you. They are used to it, by the way, so they don't find it as unpleasant as you do. Next? Are you alive? Yes? No? How should I know, when I am literally something you made up?"

So, basically, Martino could only hope that he wasn't stuck here, with the worst of himself, forever.

"The worst, huh? Wait until fear, jealousy and paranoia show up... Not to mention the good old self-preservation instinct, aka what you usually refer to as 'common sense', who's gonna bore y-"

"Okay, okay. I get it. No need to get so defensive." Damn, someone here was a bit too sensitive to criticism!

Okay, alright. Perhaps this guy wasn't the bottom of the barrel, maybe some people even found his fiery disposition and charming, but…. it couldn't be all that his friends - and Nico; his sweet gentle dorky Nico -  saw in Martino.

He had plenty of good, in him… so where was it?

"Ooh! That's the attitude you need to get out of here… Know your worth! Fight for it!" Anger goaded him on, suddenly mellowing out and becoming a lot more amiable.

"Lend an ear to your heart, be true to yourself…" Martino rebuked, not quite as sarcastic as he would have been a couple of days before.

"... and when you do, you'll hold the key to open all doors, yeah. Starting from that one" his grumpy companion said, pointing at the portal that just appeared out of nowhere.

"Don't. Save it. We are nowhere, therefore…" Marti shushed him, rolling his eyes and smiling. It was kind of endearing to realise how predictable he could be. Comforting.

"Stop stalling and go through that damn door. Someone's waiting for you."

Who? Could it be… ? Well there was only one way to find out.

As he stepped over the threshold, everything changed.

He could have sworn that the air was filled with the smell of his mother's freshly baked cinnamon rolls, which she hadn't been making for nearly a decade. The sun shine brightly in a cloudless blue sky, but it didn't burn skin. A pleasant warmth was spreading through him, while Marti relieved the bone crushing hugs, the forehead kisses, the most gentle touch upon his own lips and all those casual loving gestures he had taken for granted for far too long.

He knew where he was. The Emerald Fields, and idyllic place on the outskirts of Eterna. A city 'where all wishes come true', according to legends. His father - merchant for a living, myth-buster for 'the greater good, the improvement of society as a whole' - had proved them to be nothing more than smoke and mirrors… Quite ironic that a man so obsessed with honesty and transparency had the guts to… No. Forget it.

It was unacceptable: he wouldn't any unresolved issues he had with his dad spoil this memory.

Of the last time it truly felt invincible, invaluable. Unique, in all his untapped potential. Carefree.

He didn't mind being alone, here… not that he was. Obviously, he wasn't. Deer and and fawns had materialise beside him, stubbornly nudging Martino towards the lake.

Playfully splashing water with his feet, with a flower crown in his auburn hair, sat the person who had been waiting for him. Not Niccolò, unfortunately. Or Gio.

"I suppose you'll have to settle for me." He said, silently asking Marti to sit next to him with an eloquent look. Welcoming, rather than threatening.

There was an aura of 'now tell me all about your troubles, my friend… share the weight with me and maybe they won't seem half as bad..' surrounding him, which normally Martino would've labelled as patronising - unless it came from Giovanni. Normally.

FlowerBoy tapped the plank on his right, for emphasis, thanking Marti when you finally took a seat on the creek.

"I'm glad you two parted on good terms. He got us through some awful times, you know? You call him 'anger', but he is 'pride'. Which, in itself, is not so bad. Life has hardened him, made him constantly ready for a fight, but… what you see as a flaw, indeed, is one of your biggest strengths. Loyalty. Perseverance. Spite… I can't take the credit for those - especially the latter, which has repeatedly spurred you into action. It comes from loving yourself, sure, but with a slight disdain for others and their shitty opinions."

Woah. Martino hadn't being ready for the lecture on his own negative feelings from… His hippie self?

"You seem nicer, though." Clean-shaven, soft-spoken, well-rested and well-dressed.

A stark contrast from the guy he had met first.

"I generally am. Enough to make people stay, most of the time. Draw them in, however? Avoiding to wax lyrical on how the universe now revolves around them, and keeping a shred of dignity as if I wouldn't gladly have them on every available surface?" Huh? Were they still talking about his family and friends?

"Sorry, I got a bit carried away. The most recent developments with Ni… That's all very new to me. Never had I experienced something so intense. It's exciting and scary. Fascinating and confusing. Anyway, the point is: I'm cheesy. Sappy. Shamelessly so. He gives us an edge, turning mushiness into good-natured banter."

An interesting take, undoubtedly, but… kind of pointless? It did offer a new perspective on parts of himself he hadn't been overly fond of, still… In the grand scheme of things, what was the purpose of these talks? Where was the conflict, and the revelation that came with it?

"Not every tale needs to feature a dragon's slayer, or a fearless knight battling orcs. Lessons can be learnt without suffering."

All he needed to do was listen, basically? Could it be that easy? Wasn't it such a cop out?

"Easy, you say. And yet you haven't been able to achieve such an easy task in all these years. You refuse to. Shut up. You weren't talking? Well, you were thinking. Given them - dreaded common sense, fear and self-pity - too much attention."

Empty your mind. Find the sound that resonates within your soul. Amplify it. That's your spark.

Martino had never progressed past that stage, at the Academy, much to the Mentors' bafflement. He'd supposed they couldn't believe what they were seeing… that an individual with no magic at all co-

"SHUT UP!!"

Right. Right. No more thoughts. Hear the waves sloshing against the creek? The breeze blowing through the grass? The pitter-patter of deer hooves? Great. Cancel them out. Your breath is deafening, now, isn't it? It's all you can hear, and that's not particularly interesting…

"Don't give up, Marti please." Whose voice was it?  His mom's?

"Come on, man. Wake up." Gio's?

"Going from sleep deprived to lethargic? Really? Since when are you the 'go big or go home' kind of guy?" Eva's?

"Are you trying to impress someone, hun? You don't need to. One would think you hung the stars and moon from the way he looks at you…" Filo's?

"Marti, you can't go without seeing Luca's latest master-" Oh, how he had missed Elia's laughter. "masterpiece, yeah, that you've inspired."

"Don't fret. It doesn't matter how long it takes, but come back to me when it's over, okay? I'll be waiting. I'll always be waiting." Nico's. 

Wait. How could that be possible. Shouldn't he… No, no, no. Marti, no. Don't get lost, don't let logical reasoning lure you in. Take care of that later, okay? Okay.

Silence, please… There. You have it. The complete absence of s-

"LET ME OUT!!" A young boy yelled, thumping repeatedly from under the thick ice layer it was now covering the lake.

Was it some kind of ruse, a deceit it was supposed to ignore to reach a higher level of consciousness?

"HELP ME!!!" Thud. Thud. Thud. "PLEASE!!!" Thud. Thud. Thud.

Screw it. Too bad if he wasn't supposed to intervene: he was going to, regardless of the consequences.

Deprived of any tool that could help him with the rescue, it soon became clear that's the only way he could smash the ice was by jumping on it. And once he inevitably plunged into the freezing water, it would be just a matter of minutes before hypothermia kicked in and killed them both.

It didn't matter.

"HOLD ON!!!" Jump. Jump. Jump. "I'M GONNA GET YOU HOME. GONNA GET BOTH OF US HOME!!! "Jump. Jump. Jump. "ALIVE!!!"

Crack. He did it!

Seize the kid and get out. Survive.

"Thanks. I'm sorry I cursed you." The boy said, creating a bubble around them. "I… I didn't mean… It backfired… I…"

"... didn’t want to be alone anymore. You aren’t, you understand? I’m the one who’s sorry. You just wanted to be heard. Acknowledged. Remembered.” Martino couldn't recall the last time I took in the world around him with wonder, grateful to be alive and getting to see a rainbow. The first snow. The low tide. Shooting stars. The dancing curtains. Sunrises and sunsets. Niccolò.

"You really like him, don't you? Me too… He's cool… and he was the first one who saw me. Saw all of us, really… and still chose to stay."

Enough with the chit chat. The promises he'd only made, all that he had never allowed himself to be… No more words were needed to reconcile.

Much better to embrace them. Swim back to the surface. Rise.

********************************** Messy black curls. Full, red, pouty lips. Insanely long lashes. Lithe fingers, adorned with huge rings. More beautiful than Martino ever recalled. “You look like shit.” He mumbled, lazily stroking his hair.  “And you’re heavy. Doze off somewhere else, please.” “Marti?” Oi! He had no business breaking his heart with that note of desperation in his voice. Or with the tears in his eyes. He shouldn’t be allowed to cry. Not on his watch.

“Marti, Marti, Marti…”  He didn’t seem able to say or do anything else, for a while. Only kiss him, and repeat his name like a mantra. Eventually, he calmed down. “Look who’s talking, by the way.” Niccolò retorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t accept criticism from ‘Mr. Death-Warmed-Over’, sorry.” “And from whom would you accept it, huh? Your husband?” Marti teased, hoping he wasn’t being too cheeky. “Mh. Maybe. I wouldn’t say yes to a proposal that came from a bedside, when he’s still hazy from a long sleep and doesn’t quite know what he’s saying.” Niccolò answered, kissing his knuckles reverently. “I do know…” Martino huffed, taking comfort in the fact that Nico hadn’t utterly turned him down. “... nonetheless, you deserve a better proposal. I get it. And you’ll have it. I’ll ride a giraffe, if that’s what is required for you to say yes, okay?” “Okay. I’ll be waiting for it, then.” He leaned down, resting his forehead against Martino’s. “Choose my wedding dress, in the meantime. Unless you’d want me to wear a suit.” “You could wear a gunny sack and I wouldn’t dream to complain, Ni.” “What if I showed up naked, then?” Niccolò moved to the side, brushing his lips against his ear and neck. “Well, it’s not a sight I’m really so willing to share with everyone out there, but I suppose that if that’s what makes you happy…” “Forget it, then. We should be both happy on that day. We’ll be.” And they were. Living fully - though not always happily  - ever after.

[thenerdparty]

Avengers: Endgame Film Review

Written by Shawn Eastridge Has it really been 11 years since the first Iron Man? The Dark Knight might have taken all the credit that year for revolutionizing the superhero genre, but Iron Man’s legacy has proved just as important. While other films in Phase One hobbled somewhere between decent and mediocre, Joss Whedon’s first Avengers exceeded any and all expectations. To this day, it stands as one of the greatest superhero films ever, and it paved the way for the remainder of Marvel’s Cinematic Universe.

Over the course of the past decade, the MCU has seen its fair share of highs (Anything directed by the Russos), lows (Thor movies not directed by Taika Waititi) and everything in between. But through it all, Marvel Studios has maintained a consistent level of quality, conjuring up box office numbers that made Warner Bros SO JEALOUS they ruined Superman in the attempt to catch up. (Hey, WB: I’m still available to help get you on the right track with the Man of Steel. Call me.)

But now, twenty-two movies later, it’s all come down to this. We’re in the Endgame now, the long-awaited BIG FINALE to Marvel’s Cinematic Universe.

Let’s be real, though - we all know this isn’t really the finale. The MCU will chug on and on forever. In fact, we’ve even got another Marvel movie right around the corner. (That would be July’s Spider-Man: Far From Home) And while that knowledge does dilute Endgame’s overall effectiveness - can anyone ever stay dead in the realm of comic books - it seems foolish to recognize Endgame as anything other than a monumental success.

Seriously, this ‘conclusion’ to the MCU’s recently dubbed ‘Infinity Saga’ satisfies on nearly every level, fulfilling arcs set up in prior films and providing proper send offs for characters we’ve come to know and love over the past decade. Instead of collapsing under the weight of its ongoing 22-film arc, the Russo Brothers, along with screenwriting duo Stephen McFeely and Christopher Markus, rise to the challenge and then some, wrapping things up with style, grace and a surprising amount of emotion. That is perhaps the most pleasant surprise: Endgame is genuinely touching in the way it thoughtfully concludes this ongoing story arc. You may find yourself dabbing the corners of your eyes more frequently than expected through the film’s brisk three-hour runtime.

This isn’t all to say that Endgame is without its fair share of flaws - and there are plenty that I’ll get into during the spoiler section of this review - but honestly, the nitpicks feel so minor when compared to all the things that work. Marvel Studios hasn’t just raised the bar for superhero filmmaking and ‘big finales’ in general. They’ve obliterated it.

There. That’s my non-spoiler reaction. MASSIVE SPOILERS await you ahead. So, do yourself a favor: if you haven’t seen Avengers: Endgame already, see it. Immediately. If you have any fondness for any of the films in this massive franchise, there’s no way you’ll be disappointed. Once you’re in the know, come back and check out the rest of this review.

Sound good? Okay. Let’s push forward.

. . . . .

Where Infinity War brought the comic book action early and often, Endgame’s opening moments are more meditative and somber. Our heroes have just faced a crushing loss. They’re still reeling from the devastation of Thanos’s infamous Finger-Snap Heard ‘round the Universe. Nothing will ever be the same.

After staging an effectively heart-wrenching opening scene, giving us a brief glimpse at Hawkeye’s family life before his wife and kids fade into ash, the Russos keep the mood low-key and mournful for the duration of the film’s first act. Then we get one of Endgame’s earliest and best twists: within the film’s first twenty minutes, the Avengers find Thanos and discover he’s destroyed the Infinity Stones to prevent anyone from undoing his monstrous deed. In an empty gesture, Thor chops off the purple dude’s head. It’s a brilliant way to kick things off, throwing the audience for a loop and suggesting an ‘anything goes’ vibe to keep us on the edge of our seats.

The story jumps ahead five years(!!) to find our heroes scattered and broken, attempting to mend together the pieces in a world still devastated by its new reality. I loved that the Russos let us wallow in our heroes’ misery for a bit. You really get a sense of the loss they’ve experienced, that the entire world has experienced. These scenes offer some wonderful character beats and conversations, something that has always elevated Marvel above the rest of the pack.

Scott Lang, a.k.a. Ant-Man, escapes the Quantum Realm (you saw Ant-Man and the Wasp, right?) to discover a significantly altered world. But he brings a message of hope with him: the duration of time he experienced in the Quantum Realm was only 5 hours, suggesting the potential for time travel. Maybe they can find a way to fix the devastation Thanos has wrought by traveling back in time?

P.S. Can I just take a moment to talk about how much I love Paul Rudd in this movie? Ant-Man has been on the periphery of the MCU’s big events and to see him take on such a big role in this movie was a huge thrill.

This glimmer of hope inspires the band to get back together and it’s genuinely surprising where some of them have ended up. Bruce Banner has finally made peace with his meaner, greener side, resulting in Professor Hulk, a version of the character that maintains Banner’s intelligence and personality. Thor never overcame his grief and has spent the past five years descending into drunken slobbery and gaining a significant amount of weight in the process. This provides one of the film’s best sight gags. Plus, it’s maintained throughout! Kudos to you, Russos!

And then we have Mr. Tony Stark himself, the key to figuring out how to make time travel work. But he’s moved on. He and Pepper have an adorable daughter. He has absolutely zero desire to lose what he has. Ultimately the realization that he can save the lives of countless billions - including one surrogate son Peter Parker - drives him to support the cause.

Endgame’s 2nd act centers around the newly reassembled Avengers time-traveling into the past to gather the Infinity Stones, bring them to their future and use them to ‘un-snap’ their fallen comrades. These sequences are fun and light on their feet. They’re especially effective in lieu of the grim opening scenes.

Here’s the thing, though: As much as I love this portion of the film and the way the time travel stuff is handled, I couldn’t help feeling there was a general lack of consequence to everything that happened during this sequence. Even when things skew from the team’s set plan, it doesn’t feel like a significant snag or an insurmountable obstacle. These moments are treated as minor annoyances before our heroes carry on with a new solution, nary breaking their strides or a sweat in the process.

It’s all fun in a Back to the Future Part II kind of way, but it’s treated more as an extended comedy bit than anything else, and to a certain extent, this robs Endgame of some level of suspense. Plus, it’s time travel. Once you throw time travel into the mix, all bets are off, and I couldn’t help shaking that feeling. After all, what’s to stop them from using this plot device again and again in the future, consequences be damned?

At the very least, the wackiness of the time travel sequence is balanced with some great character beats. I loved Thor’s tender moment with his mom. I loved Captain America vs. Captain America. I loved that Tony gets a sincere heart to heart with his dad, offering some much-needed closure. Robert Downey Jr. has never been anything less than wonderful in this role, but his performance in Endgame might take the cake. Honestly, everyone brings their A-game to the table and these moments ground the sequence, keeping it from getting too bonkers.

This sequence is also balanced with a genuinely tragic moment: Black Widow sacrifices herself to get the Soul Stone. I don’t know why this scene has been stirring up some people, because here’s the thing: this moment works perfectly. Natasha (Black Widow) and Clint (Hawkeye) travel to Vormir to obtain the Soul Stone. As established in Infinity War, the only way to obtain said stone is to sacrifice the thing you love most. Clint’s willing to take the plunge. He’s become a monster in the five years since his family’s disappearance (but an awesome, katana-wielding monster) and he doesn’t feel he deserves to see them again. Natasha knows this isn’t true and she’s willing to sacrifice herself to ensure Clint gets his happy ending. After all, he saved her all those years ago. It’s time to return the favor. It’s heartbreaking, but it feels right and Scarlett Johansson and Jeremy Renner sell every minute.

The plan is a success, but it's not without its snags. Past Thanos ends up getting involved when past Nebula tunes into future Nebula’s wifi and begins broadcasting everything future Nebula has seen, including the Avengers’ time travel plan. Thanos gets worked up into a tizzy and he and past Nebula devise a plan to get him into the Avengers’ future so he can ensure everyone snapped out of existence stays snapped out of existence. Also, why not wipe out everyone else in the process just for good measure? Because that’s what big, angry, purple maniacs do. Don’t question it.

Is it a bit weird that the Thanos the Avengers face isn’t the same Thanos so carefully fleshed out in Infinity War? Yeah, a little bit. To be honest, it makes things feel kind of impersonal. This Thanos feels more like the mysterious being teased in dozens of MCU post-credits sequence than the layered, thoughtful villain of the previous film. It’s a bit of a bummer, but it is what it is.

Ultimately, my biggest gripe with Endgame is the same gripe caused by Infinity War’s conclusion. We already knew the disintegrated heroes were going to come back for their obligatory sequels. Their arrival during Endgame’s epic battle to end all epic battles feels inevitable more than surprising.

And, look, let me be clear: Endgame’s climax is the ultimate superhero big battle you’ve been dreaming of since Nick Fury first name-dropped the ‘Avengers Initiative.’ I went nuts with the best of them when all our heroes returned from the abyss for this ultimate showdown, so understand my next criticism comes from a place of love. Once all the heroes show up, the stakes disappear. I didn’t have any doubt the Avengers would win. As a result, the climax is robbed of its suspense. It’s basically fan service to the nth degree, which again, I’d like to emphasize I was totally cool with. It just prevents the battle from conjuring up any emotional depth.

This isn’t The Return of the King. It's not the Battle of Hogwarts or the Death Star trench run or even the first Avengers' Battle for New York. It’s a big, flashy special effects extravaganza overflowing with crowd-pleasing beats, but lacking in genuine (here’s this word again) consequence. Again, I want to emphasize that I loved every second of it, but there’s a significant lack of loss during these scenes. Ultimately, Tony Stark sacrifices himself to save the universe and it’s absolutely BRILLIANT and heart-wrenching, but no one else seems in danger. Iron Man dies so that dozens of franchises can live on.

The remaining twenty minutes or so of Endgame are low key. We witness Tony’s emotional funeral, torches are passed (go, Sam Wilson, go!) and some unexpected-slash-exciting team-ups are teased (Fat Thor with the Guardians of the Galaxy? I am SO in.) But it’s during these quiet scenes that the Russos skillfully remind us what has always mattered the most: the characters. And I’m not going to lie, it’s difficult not to get choked up when Steve Rogers, a man who has sacrificed so much for the greater good, finally gets his happy ending, dancing the day away with the love of his life.

Big finales don’t get much more enjoyable or fulfilling than this. Marvel’s Cinematic Universe will go on and on and on. Inevitably, its quality will wane and fade, but we can rest easy knowing that the heroes that kicked everything off got the send-off they deserved. It might not be perfect, but it’s pretty damn great. Most importantly, it’s satisfying.

With the Infinity Saga, Marvel Studios has accomplished something extraordinary. They’ve touched countless millions across the globe without compromising the artistic quality of this multi-billion dollar franchise. We can rage on and on about Disney’s domination and how everything is just a corporate product and blah, blah, blah, but we’d be ignoring the fact that they got to where they are because they honored their source material and went out of their way to give the fans something special.

So to Kevin Feige and the entire team at Marvel Studios, cast, crew, writers, bean pushers, etc., I’d like to say thank you. You’ve earned every record-breaking penny. We love you 3000.

Now can someone please un-cancel Daredevil?? Come on!!

[cherry3point14]

Mine: Ch3 - WITH

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Straight up murder. Manipluation. And a date. Word Count: 6000ish. Chapter Summary: How many times will Dean have to fix your life? A/N: I’m so sorry for how long this took pals. Forgive me?

Ao3 if you prefer

In the morning I bring you toast. You look like the last thing you want to do is eat it, which worries me. But I've gotta draw the line somewhere and shoving food down your throat feels like a step too far. Then again, I'm not even sure if it's you on that bed. Knees in your chest and a hollow shadow framing your eyes. You finally broke. Out of sight and locked in this room you fell apart, and I missed it. Missing it makes everything harder. I can help you if I see it happen but now I'm nothing but a stranger standing here holding toast. Now you'll have to heal on your own.

You need this time though. You need it to figure out you're better off without him. Grieving is important even if Carl is, or was a complete asshat. If you don't grieve you can't move on and I need you to be able to move on. I can only show you how perfectly we fit together, you need your eyes open to see it.

The toast is still there when I bring you water, and the water is untouched when I come back with soup hours later. Sam offers to bring you some dinner in the evening and I lie to him, telling him I already have. I don't want him scaring you is all. You don't know him. You know me.

"Dean?"

It's what, the second time you've said my name out loud? The first time, in the diner, you'd been this flirty chef arguing with me about food. And now you're this sad little thing with a voice so distorted from disuse that it doesn't even sound like you.

"Yeah Y/N?" You're not ready for a nickname.

You clear your throat, "I wanted to say thank you for taking me in like this. I'm sure you're probably used to… to witches? But…"

"Witches suck. You never get all the way used to that."

Carl sucked too. Try to remember that Y/N. Remember how he cheated on you. Him and his buddies with the same hooker. Don't make him out to be a martyr.

You suck in a shallow breath letting the air steady you and force a smile to your face. Small, encouraging and not enough to reach your eyes. "Will you tell me about what you do?"

It's too much for day one. We're standing here still shy of twenty-four hours since Carl died in your living room. Since you heard it and I didn't stop it. I've got decades of nightmares that I could tell you but right now even a simple ghost story will keep you awake at night. I want you to sleep and dream. I want you to stay you.

Maybe I'm selfish too. Maybe for a little while longer, I want to be just Dean, the guy you met in a diner who likes pie. Or as close to him as I can get.

"I'll make you a deal, sweetheart." OK, that one slips out. "You eat this delicious grilled cheese I made you and when you're ready I'll tell you anything you want to know."

Within reason. I won't tell you about the hex bag sitting in the top drawer of my desk. Tossed in there amongst a few pictures I keep. When was I going to burn it? Sitting in the Impala with Sam so I can endure all his judgment? And then you were with us because I brought you home.

You look at me like you want to argue. Your chin sticks out a bit, all hard and stubborn. There's fight left in you, under all those jagged edges and I fished it out of you. The diner chef is still in there. The one with fire in her eyes. The one who wanted me to look at her curves and wasn't shy about it.

She's the one who takes a big whiff of the melted cheese goodness in my hand and she's the one who gives in with this tiny nod.

You haven't eaten all day so the first three bites don't touch the sides. My arms cross over my chest while I lean against the door watching you. As weird as it is I can't help watching every bite. Making sure you swallow. I'm not saying grilled cheese is the cure for your emotional turmoil. Except anyone watching you devour it right now might be hard pressed to argue otherwise.

When was the last time someone looked after you Y/N? If I didn't know any better no one ever has.

"Y/N still holed up?" Sam might as well be asking if there's coffee in the pot for the normality in his voice.

I look up from the diner Facebook page. I'd only been looking for the phone number, so I could call and tell them you won't be in for a few days, at least. "Yeah, in her room. Why?"

"Her room? Don't you think it's time we talked about this dude?" He goes from zero to shaking a stressed hand through his hair pretty damn quick.

Shit. I forgot about Sam and his dumb questions that he's been squirreling away for days now.

"I mean, not that I mind but what, we're bringing vics back here now?"

"Y/N's not just another vic." I bite out on a growl. It's a knee jerk reaction to a potential threat to you. I have to swallow it down, pinching the bridge of my nose because this is Sam. Not another douchebag trying to hurt you. "She's not some random victim. She's… we met at the diner remember?"

He doesn't remember. Not at first. He tries but you aren't the first thing on his mind and a part of me is grateful for that. His face scrunches, smoothes out and then finally my dramatic baby brother rolls his eyes at me. "She brought you two pieces of pie?"

It's offensive if anything. His implication that you won me over with two pieces of pie. He's trying to belittle our story before it's started. We're not even at the good part yet, the part where you fall for me.

"That's not- yeah she did- but that's not why I-"

"You like her?" Sam interrupts, astonished that I could.

Like sounds as if I pushed you down in the playground. Like is not enough for you. But there's no way to explain to Sam without telling him everything. That would include all the things he won't approve of. Since there's no way to explain, I don't. I deflect his attention instead.

"So, what if I do?" It's not what I want to say. I want to tell him about Lawrence and how you were made for me. He'll understand if I tell him about all the things that make you different. Again, explanations take a backseat. I'll have to wait until we're official and these things can slip out as pieces of a normal conversation.

He leans back a little, taking time to make up his mind. And when I think the world might end before he speaks again, a smile spreads across his face. "Nothing, it's nice is all. You've got a little crush."

"I do not have a crush."

"Aww look at that, you're blushing."

I'm not but Sam is buying this. He's on board with the idea of you staying because he thinks I've reverted to a preteen with a boner. He makes it all too easy to play along, he hands me my alibi with a bow on, "shut up Sammy."

"Ok, ok," he pushes up from his chair opposite and makes like he's giving himself up. He throws off this big, over the top shrug. "Just nice to see you… you know."

I know. He's doesn't need to say any more than that. I'm happy. I'm happy even if you're tucked up in a room feeling sad for something that I want you to forget already. Because at least you're safe. At least you're where I can keep an eye on you.

Sam is on a supply run because he's not stupid enough to think I'd leave you here. He didn't even bother to ask me if I wanted to go.

So, when you stumble into the room like a baby deer learning to walk for the first time, I'm the only one who gets to enjoy the sight. "You ok there, sweetheart?"

"I got lost about ten times and I still don't know where I am." There's that funny little bite back. I missed it. I don't for a second think you're fixed but you're learning to hide away the dark stuff.

I want this to be the only bad thing you need to bury. Bury this for me Y/N and I'll keep the other shit away.

"Guess I'll need to give you a tour today since you're up and at 'em."

"About that," the way you draw out your words gets my attention. It's bad news obviously because when I try to find your eyes and you're aimlessly looking around the room. "I was thinking maybe it's time for me to go home."

Shit. That's not how this is supposed to go. How can I finish fixing you if you're not here?

I need to pretend this isn't as panic-inducing as it actually is, "are you sure? You're welcome as long as you want."

Longer even.

"Oh my god. Please don't think I'm not beyond grateful. Honestly, I don't know how I would have coped at home... but I can't hide away forever. I don't want to hide away forever anyway. I have a job, at least I hope I still do and…"

"Oh yeah. You're all good. I called and let them know you'd be out for a few days."

That wasn't supposed to come out. It's weird. I know it's weird. I'm some guy who invited you to my secret bunker and now I've called your work without telling you. I wasn't planning on telling you I called them. But Y/N, you've been in that room for three days. What was I supposed to do? Let you get fired?

"You called work for me?" There's no anger in the question. When I finally dare to look at you to gauge how weirded out you are, a barely-there smile sits on your face.

Again, with the being surprised if anyone does anything for you, god it's going to take time to get you over that. "Couldn't having you get fired before you finally make the perfect burger."

My answer is enough of a throwback to your old self that you don't question my behavior.

"I've already made the perfect burger, maybe just not for you."

A hand over my chest and a pout on my lips. "You're breaking my heart."

You laugh. An actual honest to goodness laugh that rings like a bell, "wouldn't want to do that."

I could stay wrapped up in this light conversation for hours. I'd never get tired of it. Hearing you say you don't want to break my heart is a bonus. That's the promise I need, you see that about me without even trying. And I'm what you need. We're already in sync.

"Stay." The request falls from my mouth without permission making me seem desperate. You actually frown a little at the word, leaving me to scramble for a recovery. "Just for tonight, I mean. I'll give you the tour, show you my awesome kitchen and drive you home in the morning?"

It makes sense. It's past noon already, we're already head first into the afternoon. And I'm being selfish again. I want time with you where you're not in your room on a self-imposed lockdown. I'm being impatient too. Because if I let you slip through my fingers it'll be an undetermined amount of time before I get you back again.

"How awesome is this kitchen?"

"Oh honey, you won't want to leave."

Or, at least, that's what I'm hoping.

You'd marveled at the kitchen, rambled on about the stove being a classic. Scrunched your face at the ingredients on offer. I take note of everything. I'll make sure everything is how you want it next time. If it had been perfect this time maybe you wouldn't have left.

You're a good actress. When I drop you off home and walk you to the door like the gentleman you deserve there's hardly a flicker on your face. At least Carl had died without leaving bloodstains all over the place. Looking around your living room it's hard to tell he was ever here. Does that help Y/N? Does that help you pretend that you're going to be ok? You don't have to pretend for me, even if you still do. Your tone is forced, too high and there's a tremble in your smile when you see me out.

Don't worry about being alone. I'm not going far.

After you think I leave you try to avoid parts of your own home. Phone calls are made standing on the opposite side of the room. For a while, you disappear from my sight completely. Holed up in other places that aren't that room.

I don't often stick around and see this part. Sam and I usually haul ass out of town before the dust settles so I've got no clue if this is normal behavior. Watching you makes me realize how many other people we've left to feel scared in their own homes. Countless families worried about a monster they don't know how to fight while they try to sleep at night. It makes motel hopping all my life seem like a blessing. Or a necessity.

You're doing so good though. You keep forcing yourself to stand in different spots for as long as you can. I can see the way you pick somewhere to stay until awkwardness, or fear, washes over you and you retreat again. Over and over you try, shoulders locked and back straight, determined to get over this mess. It's only your first day home. And you won't even be here forever, not that you know that yet. But you're sick of being scared and you're training yourself out of it.

Of course, I should have known that the perfect girl for me would have been strong like this. Determined. More than what you seem.

Sam texts me and asks me if you got home alright. That's not what he means. He wants to know where I am. Why I'm still missing. He doesn't know that I'm too caught up in you to have lost track of the time. Sam thinks I've dropped you off and then fallen off the face of the earth, so I lie to him, again. I tell him I'm at a bar because he'll write that off as typical me behavior.

It takes an hour to drive home when I tear myself away. I'm quicker now because the journey is becoming routine. I know where that one speed trap is to avoid and the rest of the way my foot is down. The faster I drive the quicker I can come back to you.

Sam's on his laptop when the bunker door closes behind me. He barely looks up when he tells me what he thinks is good news.

"Hey, you should sleep it off. I think I found us a case."

Well, fuck. If I hadn't been sober already that right there would have done it. So much for my plans.

It takes four fucking days to kill the werewolf pack in Salt Lake City. Never mind the fact that it's the opposite direction to you and every mile we drive makes my mouth itch. They'd been good at covering their tracks, dragging the whole messy business out. Sure, we've worked cases that go on longer. Sure, what's four days in the grand fucking scheme of things? Four days is all it takes for something to happen to you if I'm not there. When we take the last of them out my silver knife ends up buried deep in the pack leaders heart. I make sure to give it an extra twist for us both. This asshole kept me from you. All I've had for four days are a few facebook updates between the constant worry. The first day it's a picture. You in your whites brandishing a big ass knife to the camera. What is it with you and waving knives around like they're not sharp? Then again, you're my girl so it kinda fits. The caption on the picture says you're back at work and people should come on down to eat. Looks to me like you're asking for trouble. Advertising your location out to every creep in a thirty-mile radius. My eye starts twitching a little after that. Then the next day you post a status update that you're thinking about looking for a new car. Goddammit Y/N, you can't wait until these werewolves are done? I've seen your taste in cars and this is not a decision you should be making without me. What's worse is the radio silence that follows that one. People comment on your update with links to used cars for sale, but you don't reply to any of them. Which means I spend the last two days of the hunt with no idea what's going on in that head of yours. No clue if you're ok. The last night in town you put me out of my misery. I'm wiping the blood off my blade and already pretty relieved to be heading home when my phone dings in my pocket. I may not be a social media guy but I know how to set up notifications. A weight I hadn't realized had been crushing my chest disappears with the sound. I wait until Sam is jogging over to Baby for the lighter fluid he forgot to take out my phone. My thumb is still bloody leaving a thick red thumbprint on the screen, it becomes a messy streak when I scroll. You've shared a video of Dr. Sexy MD. It's some dumb viral compilation but you've added a caption; Judge me all you want but I swear those COWBOY BOOTS. You're alive and more than that you're fucking perfect. "What are you smiling at?" Sam asks on his way back. It's pitch black. How does he even see my goofy grin? "Nothing. Glad to be done with all this." I gesture to the haul of dead werewolves. He nods, we’re both glad although he doesn’t know it’s not about the same things. Sam wants to stay tonight and drive fresh tomorrow which is the dumbest idea I've ever heard. I tell him as much. He huffs because he has no idea why I want to get home so bad. He doesn't need to understand as long as he shuts up and takes his shift driving while I get my four hours. I need to be fresh as a daisy when we get back since I'll be driving to you as soon as. It's a little after ten when we finally roll in the next day. Day five of not having seen you. Too long. It's not enough to know that you're ok, I need to see that you're ok. I don't even bother with an excuse when we get back to the bunker. I unload my gear same as always and then I start to leave again. When Sam asks where I'm going my eloquent answer is, "food." Not a lie this time. I'm heading to this diner I know. One with the cutest chef around. I've missed you which is why I'm going to the diner. Normally I'd avoid it because there's nowhere to hide but today I don't care if you see me. Hell, I want you to see me. It's been five goddamn days now, maybe it's time that we stopped playing games. It only takes me an hour to get there. I turn up as the breakfast crowd is leaving but before the lunch rush really starts. Despite there being tables free I walk straight up to the counter. Obviously, Carol is there, smiling like there's nothing weird about my determined stare. "What can I get for you, honey?" She asks with that familiar raspy voice. "French toast, side of bacon, coffee and some facetime with the chef please." It sounds a lot more romantic in my head. I haven't really taken into account that Carol has no idea what the fuck is going on. She doesn't know who I am, which chef I'm talking about or even that I know you. All of that is pretty evident in the confusion etched into her wrinkles. The food part of my order is written down, but she's faltered over the rest. I guess I'll have to elaborate. "Uh- is Y/N working today?" That she understands. "Sure thing, let me get her." She wanders through the door I know leads to the kitchen and I hear Carol's muffled, "Y/N, someone's asking for ya hon." Carol doesn't reappear immediately but I'm the only one at the counter and she's put my order in. Both my orders. So, it's no surprise when you burst through the door first. Like you had that first day. Your face cycles through shock and confusion, settling on an easy smile, "Dean?" I love it when you say that. "Hey, sweetheart. How you doing?" I'm so calm and collected that even I believe my act. But I did have the drive to get my shit together. You close the gap and lean on the counter, putting your weight on your forearms and leaning in. I almost expect a kiss for how close you get. Instead, it's a quiet whisper, "what are you doing here?" I'm not offended because you know what I do. You probably think I'm working a case, if I remember I'll apologize later for scaring you. Right now, I'm too distracted by having you so close. The warmth radiating from your skin makes mine glow. "In the neighborhood." Lie. "And I was hankering for something to eat. Thought I'd stop in and see how you're doing, maybe give you a second chance." See I know you Y/N. I know you better than you know yourself. And you react exactly how I expect. Luckily, I don't find predictability boring, instead, it's a comfort to know what makes you tick. You pull your head back half confused that I'm checking in on you because you don't know what you're worth. Mingled with the confusion you're half frustrated by my challenge. You still want my approval and I still haven't given it to you. Now I'm being mean, dangling the bait in front of your face. "What did you order?" "French toast and bacon." The smile becomes a grin. Mischievous and confident. "I hope you're prepared for the best thing you've ever had in your mouth." My gaze flicks down your body and I almost make a joke. The second-best thing. But I've not had the pleasure of tasting you yet so my reply will have to wait for now. I'll put it with the hundred other things I've held back until you know me as well as I know you. What I do say is more suitable for the acquaintances you think we are. "Good luck with that." You push yourself off the countertop worrying your bottom lip. If you're actually concerned about your abilities your eyes don't show it. You stare me down. Game on.

I'll admit the food is a work of fucking art. It shows up in front of me looking like it's intended for the cover of a cookbook and tastes, somehow, even better. I have to remind myself it's just French toast and bacon. Of course, it's not just either of those things.

You're a goddamn magician. Although a needy one. It's too convenient the way that you saunter back from the kitchen the very second my plate is clear.

"What's the verdict then?"

I can't prove you were watching me, but I take a gamble, your timing can't be that good. "Were you watching me eat?"

Your face flushes for being caught, "maybe."

"You little stalker." I tease hoping to keep you pink.

"Fine. I'm a creep but stop avoiding the question. What do ya think?"

You've been begging for this since day one and I don't deny you another second. I finally give you what you want. "That was awesome."

It's not enough for you, "Are you one of those guys who says awesome a lot or is that an actual compliment?"

The truth is a little of both. I'm not telling you that. "Trust me, sweetheart, it's a compliment."

"Well," you begin. It's the start of an end, I can tell. It means you're satisfied and you're heading back to work.

I'm not ready for this to be over, even for today. "Can I take you out to dinner?"

"What?" You stutter.

"You, me, dinner. It won't be as good as this but we can let someone else cook for the night." I'm not sure how I'll handle it if you turn me down at this point. I know I'm rushing but the moment felt right so the question slipped out. A lot of things seem to slip out around you. And now I'm shitting bricks because what if you say no? This is why I pick up women in bars and forgo the pretense of a date.

Your pause only convinces me you're about to say no. I'd forgotten that you're not where I am yet. Carl died a little over a week ago. Even if he was a cheating bag of dicks you must have felt something for him. There's this fear on your face and as fleeting as it is I still see it. And yet you manage to surprise me, "I'd love to. I'm- I mean I don't know when you were thinking of- I'm working late tonight but I'll get off early tomorrow?"

You don't just want to go on a date, you're actually nervous. You want this. You want me.

"Tomorrow night. Pick you up at 7?"

You stumble backward like now that I've set a time it's finally real. You duck your head and nod. If you're not the most adorable thing I've ever seen.

"Perfect. That's perfect. But I've got to…" your hand motions to the kitchen. I'm not sure I should send you back there this flustered, still I can't help the wink I throw you. It draws out another smile as you disappear.

The diner is getting busy behind me. Tables of conversations all mingling together to create this loud hum. I hadn't noticed till you left. Why would I notice anything else while you're in the room?

Tomorrow will be good and you're working late tonight. All I need to do now is make sure you get home ok. Then tomorrow I can actually spend some time with Sammy because you'll be safe at work, and then safe with me.

The parking lot out the back of the diner is big considering. Purpose built for the place and poorly lit. Pretty perfect really. I can sit the Impala in a far corner and disappear. Y/N, baby, why is it always you? I'd been satisfied with our plans. I'd only come back to make sure you got home and locked your door tight. That's it. I might be anxious for being away for so long. Or you do this to me, you bring this protective side out of me. Either way, I was seeing you safe so I could get some sleep. And now there's this. Or him. It's always some sleazebag with you. Not that I blame you. You can't help it if you attract them. You can't help being a dangerous combination of beautiful and trusting. All the things that made me notice you are exactly the things that lure in creeps. If anything, I should have expected this, I guess. To think, if I hadn't come back. Everything seems fine at first, from a distance. You and one of the younger waitresses are leaving the backdoor together. He follows behind you, locking up and honestly? It looks like any three regular co-workers's having a conversation. The girl even laughs at something you say before wandering off to her car. At least someone else is laughing at your jokes, huh? Then the problem presents itself because fucking hell Y/N why is your car parked so much further away? Of course, this slime ball parked himself next to you. You gave him the perfect opportunity. Hidden in the darkness I see the ways your shoulders tense when he wraps an arm around you. Apparently telling a joke that required him to touch you. He shouldn't be fucking touching you. You are not his to touch. It's the way your body recoils that makes my blood boil. The way your face winces has me holding the steering wheel so tightly the whites of my knuckles look ready to pop. This guy can't take a hint and you're too sweet to tell him. My hand hovers over the handle of my car door. Screw the explanation of why I'm there. I'm ready to tear this guy a new one. I don't jump quite yet. You look so relieved as you finally reach that square of tarmac that separates your cars. This is where you go your separate ways. He still doesn't see how awkward you are. Except this son of a bitch probably does, he just doesn't care. I'm willing you to walk away and I can see you want to. It's not for lack of trying. It's for lack of this prick getting a clue. He takes another step. Too close, too quickly. Then his hand settles on your arm. He's testing the waters and you're standing there probably frozen in fear. This guy is your boss and you like your job, I think anyway. My jaw is probably ticking in time to the beat of your panicked heart. His hand squeezes your arm and then slides upwards, his thumb brushing over your cheek. I find the door that time. It opens with a squeak neither of you hears across the empty space. Or you might hear it. It might be what spurs you into action, being watched. Either way in the next second you jump back into the metal of your car. Your hands form a barrier between you both, flat where they would be pushing against his chest if you could stand to touch him. You book it to your car from there, leaving your new psycho speechless. While I'm proud of you for stopping this before you can truly sink back into your old patterns of falling for losers there's still a little problem I find myself needing to deal with.

Did you know that in the great state of Kansa's if a car is left by the side of the road for more than 48 hours it gets towed? After that letters are sent. Then after 30 days, they auction the car off. This is important. Kansas will destroy my evidence for me. There's nothing strange about being the only two cars on this particular stretch of road. It's early evening and the sun has already begun going down, plus it's a quiet stretch; used by those few who need it. When I flash my lights in his mirror it's still not crazy because that stuff happens all the time. He pulls over because he doesn't have a reason not to. I'm one guy. I pull up behind him I ask if he's got jumper cables since I think my battery's dying. If he was nervous then it disappears at such a goddamn reasonable request. That's what makes this whole thing go so smoothly. My words are ordinary enough that he doesn't question the fact that you only jump start a dead battery. So, he's an idiot as well as a fucking creep. He's hunched over his trunk and wading through the crap he keeps in there when it happens. I happen. His head slams into the car beneath him. Enough to hurt and see the stars that haven't finished coming out yet. I didn't want to spill blood. Blood is messy and telling. Blood makes this a murder instead of an abandoned car. Nobody misses a monster but this guy is a regular joe. He might be a creep who inappropriately touches his staff; doesn't mean he'll disappear easily. I mean, I'll be making sure he disappears, it just needs to happen the right way. No blood, which is why I don't hit his head hard enough to spill any. Although that also means he's not unconscious. He's dazed and confused as he falls to the ground. It only takes seconds before he's looking up at me from the floor. Anger trying to mix with confusion like oil and water. Unlike him I'm calm. This isn't something I decided to do ten minutes ago. This is something I knew I would do for you the minute I met you. This is all for you. He sealed his own fate the moment he touched you. God, it probably wasn't even the first time. It was just the first time I saw him lay hands. He finally spits out something, "what the fuck man?" Not what I'd pick for last words but that's just me. The road is still quiet. It's a little darker now. The sky is a few shades blacker. Hardly noticeable to people who aren't wondering if it's enough to get away with murder at the side of the road. It is enough though. Between the evening shadows and dragging him out of sight, I shouldn't have any problems at all. He's struggling but still pretty out of it, until my weight pins him down and my hands wrap around his throat. See Y/N, I don't want to do this. Not really. I get no joy out of feeling his airways close under my grip, even if he got in our way. His scrambling hands trying to push at my arms only remind me that I'm killing a normal, albeit sleazy, guy. This isn't a monster that's killed innocent people. This guy is the innocent. So, no, I'm not enjoying this. This isn't for my satisfaction. It's for you. Saving you. Hunting assholes. My new business. Feeling his windpipe tense and release against my thumbs, fighting for air, it's all for you. All I see is you in my mind, not him as I end whatever pathetic life he leads. I know you don't know this yet Y/N, baby, but I'll do anything for you. Less than thirty seconds and he stops fighting. His arms fall limp by his sides. Another twenty seconds and his eyes roll back until they close. He's out but he's not dead and knowing the difference is one of the many reasons I'll get away with this. I know things. All the better to protect you. It takes three minutes for the brain, even one as small as his, to die without oxygen. I keep pressing my weight on his throat for five. The last thing I need is him waking up in the trunk. In the end he goes out like Carl. Choking. Dying for doing you wrong. Fitting really. There's dirt on my knees when I get up which is fucking annoying. And there's no time now. I'm sure you'll understand but I don't want you to have to understand. I want everything to be perfect. Tonight I show you how you deserve to be treated. Showing up looking like a kindergartener who scrapped his knees is not how this goes. Dick face, probably should have learned his name, goes into the truck nice and easy since he's not stiff yet. So, that's a win at least. I'm still cautious though since you're going to be in the car. His hands cuffed behind his back and ankles stuck together. Duct tape over his mouth even if his skin is too cold to be living. Can't take any risks tonight Y/N, not when I'm picking you up for our first date.

I'd changed jeans in a gas station bathroom and washed the death off my hands; I'm respectful like that.

It was never going to be enough.

You come to the door in this dress that floats on the air as you walk and fuck me, cowboy boots. Brown, worn and weathered cowboy boots. And as if that wasn't enough you're sporting this smile like you've been waiting all day for me. I'm the luckiest son of a bitch to walk the planet and all I can think to do is blow out this silent whistle on an out breath.

"Sorry, I had no idea how nice to dress and... is it too much?"

I know it hasn't been long, not long enough to touch you, but I reach out for your chin anyway, lifting your face to look at me. "Don't you ever apologize for looking this beautiful sweetheart."

Another smile for me. Tonight, it's all about how many of those I can earn.

You slide into the passenger seat and cross one leg over the other. You know exactly what you're doing. How your hem bounces up your thigh a little. If your plan is to make me question taking you for food, instead of taking you to a bar to drink till we're naked, well done. I'm an idiot.

I actually scoured yelp for the restaurant we do finally make it to. Hours spent reading reviews until I found somewhere that not everyone hated. You're better than going to a bar, for the first date anyway. Not even your skin show will change my mind.

I'm kind of wishing I took you somewhere even fancier than the little Italian though. Except you tell me you've been meaning to try this place when I do the whole holding your chair thing for you. You're getting the whole nine yards from me tonight. And you make every second worth it.

All it takes is, "tell me about yourself," after the orders are in and you're away. Every time you push the conversation towards me I hand it straight back. Do you think you're talking too much? If you do, then you clearly don't understand what's going on. I want to know everything. I want to know all the things I already know, from your own lips, and then I want to hear the rest too.

If you give me all of you I swear I'll keep it safe.

Besides I'm not in a rush. Not like I have a dead guy in the trunk or anything.

Continue to Chapter 4

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage

Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278​ @bloodydaydreamer​

[tancong]

Gency Week: Day 7

And the fic is finally finished along with gency week. I forgot how good it feels to finish a multi-chapter fic. It’s been a really fun week, thank you to all those involved for hosting this wonderful week with all its wonderful prompts. I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did~

And now, I return to hell in college with my 5 classes ;u; Perhaps one day, I’ll return to work on my next fic series.

Title: Four Halves Make A Whole Theme: Family Word Count: 1873 Rating: G (for God there’s fluff everywhere)

It would not be for another half-decade or so that they would finally consider starting their own family. Angela was all too busy with the ascension ceremony and her studies about magic, along with learning about everything else that was needed for ruling a kingdom. Her husband was fortunately gifted with the knowledge of the inner workings of the streets, allowing him to appeal to the people rather easily. He had that going for him at least.

She felt bad for making him sit in on so many conferences that he hardly had a clue about, with the council people very purposefully using big words and archaic terms to mess with him. However, Genji was not one to surrender easily, or at all. He studied books after books through the nights with his wife snuggled up to him, knowing that he shouldn’t be a useless burden to her forever.

The day that he very offhandedly dissed a counselor’s use of resources and casually suggested a solution that would eventually come to reform the entire system for the better, he was showered with a lot of kisses after the meeting and rewarded for his cleverness with yet another sleepless night, only without the books.

Eventually, there came a day when they found themselves with a king declaring war on them. Or more specifically, Genji for stealing his wife. It was probably one of the potential suitors she had met who got his head so far up his ass that it actually came back out of his neck again.

That being said, the issue of having a significant kingdom declaring war with them, no matter how opposed their people may be, was still rather serious. There would undoubtedly be a battle or two and might end up ruining both their reputations, not to mention their trade routes and any casualties during the battle.

As such, Genji offered to go there in person and talk the man down. While many of the counselors opposed, having finally gained a respect for their king, he left anyway without regardless of what they had to say. Angela was also left behind, left to pout and mope at being left behind and all alone for the first time in a whole year.

It only really took her three days to recall what exactly her husband was and what he could do. But by then, it was much too late to stop him. However, it was not as if she needed to. In the single day he spent in the capital under disguise, he had found out that the previous king had a much more capable heir who was unfortunate enough to be female and younger than the prince. All that remained was for him to cause the prince to look out the window one night and accidentally fall off. His fault for living in such a high castle.

He was very promptly chastised and met with very angry yelling in their room, before Angela hugged him tightly and told him to never leave her without telling her again. Realizing that the problem was not in his plan for the fact that he abandoned his wife, Genji took all the necessary measures to reassure her that he did love her and that he would do it again. A candlelit dinner, a long bath, and even a new set of undergarments which she very generously modeled for him that night.

They had various problems in the following years, some of which they dealt with peacefully and some which were strangely dealt with by some unfortunate accident or another. He had to do some freelancing assassination for other friendly kingdoms as well, to ensure that everyone didn’t connect the dots between the relation of conflict towards his kingdom and a random death of his adversary.

Eventually, things settled down enough that they began to think more about themselves. They had many advisors and trustworthy men and women helping with every aspect of running the country. While their opinion still greatly mattered as the rulers, having others to contribute different ideas and views was very useful. It was an idea that Genji proposed to the council in an attempt to get people more specialized in different fields as to have a better system of balancing power around the throne. Just one of the many things that he used from his time of being an assassin.

Actually, Reinhardt found himself with a new partner, the retired knight turned assassin. They ended up working together as instructors and advisors of the army. With them and Genji, Angela had never felt the need to fear for her life. There was only one occasion when an assassin tried to hurt her. In the time it took for her magic to detect the hostile presence, her two veteran bodyguards had already drawn their swords and her husband was already busy pinning the culprit against a wall to interrogate him about his employer.

And so, they decided to have a child. Actually, they ended up having two. After their first child had been around for a year, they realized how wonderful it was and wasted no time in having another one. The elder one was female, who had a talent for finding her dad despite him utilizing various assassin skills to hide during hide-and-seek. Eventually, he resorted to climbing on top of the roof, much to the amusement of his wife, only for them both to realize that their daughter had inherited flight. Even if only temporarily.

After a near accident that gave them a nostalgic reminder of their past, they began to teach her how to use her skills in earnest. Much to her mother’s disappointment, she took more to her father, opting to learn various combat skills after seeing him practice.

As such, the castle staff soon found out about Genji’s past, something that he had kept hidden from them all that time. It was inevitable that they would question how the eldest child of the Shimada bloodline managed to evade etiquette lesson and got access to the kitchen 24/7.

As for their second child, he was the opposite. Somewhat reserved and opting to be more studious, he stayed by his mother’s side and watched as she used various magic to restrain her rampant daughter and heal up wounds. They soon found that he had a large potential for magic, being able to use the same magic as his mother despite still being quite young.

The two children got along as well as any siblings would, with bickering and bullying aplenty. However, they looked out for each other. Before the younger would gain his confidence as a magician as a young man, his older sister did not hold back a punch to defend him. They were allowed to go to a public academy under the watch of Reinhardt’s friend, though he was hardly needed for their protection. It turned out that the kingdom loved the two children to death, so much so that talking badly about them in the slightest at a bar would be enough to start a brawl. No one wanted to harm them and they got to enjoy the academy as anyone would.

Angela was glad that they got to experience life as kids, not as royalties. She had always been sheltered and felt that life was always so empty before Genji came along. Their children got to experience it all. Crushes, bullying, terrible education rectified by superb tutoring at home, shitty food, and most importantly of all, friendships. It only took their parents a talk with the academy administrator, a close friend of Angela’s father, and the kids proving their own worth for others to see them not as the children of the throne but as children.

Eventually, they grew up and became close to being adults. They began to learn more about their parents' jobs, though it was obviously the younger one who was more studious and diligent in learning about everything.

“Sis, I thought I would find you here. I didn’t even have to use magic this time. Now, will you come to the lesson?”

She simply pouted, flipping backward off the rafters to hang upside down to look at her younger brother. “But it’s so terribly boring. It’s the weekend and I want to go out to see my old friends. I bet they’re out doing something fun, like uhm .. preparing for the festival!”

At the excitement of recalling the upcoming festival, she found herself falling off, only to be caught inches from hitting the ground with a sigh from the brother. “Isn’t it the elder one’s job to watch out for their sibling, not vice versa?” he thought to himself.

“In any case, I’m aware that you have some poor innocent soul that you somehow convinced to go with you but you should ask mom and dad first, should you not?”

“They said it would be fin- Wait what do you mean poor innocent soul? What’s wrong with me asking my best friend to come to the festival with me?”

“Because I know for sure that even if the fireworks went off a million times, you’d never confess your feelings to her.”

There was a silence before the older sister’s cheeks would heat up, punching her sibling’s chest repeatedly (albeit gently, at least by her standards). “H-How do you know about that?? You better not tell mom and dad.”

The younger brother simply smirked, “I took a wild guess. Oh boy, she is really going to suffer isn’t she? The poor girl has been hopelessly in love with you for what … a year now?”

She simply sat there brooding for a bit over that thought before her eyes regained their fire. “Oh, as if you’d be making a move on that girl you like. What was her name again … Elenia?”

His eyes widened, looking around in panic before grabbing his sister by the collar, “Where did you get that name? I was sure we never even talked anywhere near you.”

“Your diary could use a slightly better magical lock and a better hiding place than under the false bottom of your desk drawer.”

Genji would later relay all this information to his wife, who would laugh and hug him tightly, talking with each other through the night about their memories. About all their secret meetings and endeavors, their strange meeting, and that wonderful festival that they could never forget.

Theirs was a strange life led by a strange fate. A princess whose life felt dictated by a single path by her heritage, all but resigned to her fate as being a pretty face for some unworthy prince to claim. An assassin whose life existed in only absolutes, kill or be killed, and the cold, merciless solitude of his path. In a single failed assassination, they found themselves in a brand new life that they could have never imagined. A life of happiness and fulfillment. One where they would never have to spend another night alone or afraid. A life where they could live with their children, watching them grow and become the next chapter of their family’s story.

The love story of a princess and her assassin.