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wlntrsldler · 4 months

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poisoned mercury | lifestyles of the rich & famous

i. lifestyles of the rich and famous by good charlotte (introduction)

a/n: introductory chapter! introducing the dynamics of the band, luke's relationship with his mom, and teenage boy antics. pre-reader and pre-chb. things will pick up quickly after this, i promise! bear with me as i set the scene :)

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“why the fuck am i seeing tabloids on top of tabloids with my kid’s plastered face on the front page of all of them?”

luke winced at the sound of his mom’s voice echoing through the empty event space. chris covered the bottom half of his face with his shirt, trying to hold in his laughter. may castellan was in her usual pantsuit, high heels clacking against the floor, as she waved around trashy magazines. she was furious.

“ignoring the fact that you are not 21 years old and cannot legally drink, what were you thinking, luke?” travis dropped his drumsticks on the ground, motioning for chris and connor to follow him backstage. they’d seen luke get chewed out by his mom more often since they started their world tour. as the three boys walked toward the side of the stage, may turned to them. “none of you are off the hook either. you may not have been on the front page, but care to listen to what they said about you in one of their glorious articles?”

“i would actually prefer not to, mama castellan,” chris mumbled, suddenly feeling caught. all traces of humor instantly drained from his face. luke couldn’t help but scoff, the boys always gave him shit for getting yelled at by his mom, so he was glad that this time around they were all on the sinking ship.

she dramatically cleared her throat, opening up one of the magazines. luke grimaced at the sight of him on the front page. he was sitting on the curb, his sunglasses askew, with a girl awkwardly patting his back. he doesn’t even remember this. may shot daggers at chris, who was cowering behind his mic stand, “bassist of poisoned mercury, chris rodriguez, was photographed away from the band when he was caught outside smoking something that wasn’t a cigarette, if you catch our drift. hopefully, his habits don’t catch up to him anytime soon.”

she stared at the stolls next, “drummer and lead guitarist of the rising band, travis and connor stoll, didn’t miss out on the fun. they walked out of the club with two models, who looked like twins, along with a bottle of dom perignon before heading into their suv.”

“and my darling child,” her words were sweet but her tone was anything but. luke chewed on the peeling skin of his bottom lip, “superstar, teen heartthrob, poisoned mercury lead singer, luke castellan, had a great night as seen in these pictures. the resident bad boy had one too many, it seems, as he walked out of the club stumbling with a mysterious blonde under his arm. castellan couldn’t make it into the car and had to sit on the curb to puke his guts out. let’s hope his actions didn’t ruin his chance at a budding romance.”

may closed the magazine, arms on her hips. she waited patiently for one of the boys to speak up.

“in our defense, this was in canada,” luke tried to reason, scrunching his face up. “legal drinking age is 18.”

that was the wrong response, luke realized, when his mom’s eyes lit up in anger. she let out a breath, “you were in toronto where the drinking age is 19, which you weren’t until yesterday.”

“i did not know that the drinking age in canada varied by region. i always learn something new whenever i talk to you, mama castellan,” travis said, trying to lighten the mood. connor shot him a look, motioning for him to quit talking. may castellan was clearly not in the mood for jokes.

“i am tired of you guys acting reckless,” she roared, dropping the magazines. they fell with a heavy thud. she rubbed her temples with the pads of her fingers, “your parents trusted me to take care of you guys while you chased your dreams and this is what you’re doing under my watch?!”

seeing his mom at her wit's end made luke feel sick.

“mom,” luke hopped off the stage, ignoring the sound of the magazines ripping under his feet as he landed on top of them, “we’re sorry. i’m sorry.”

“sorry’s not gonna cut it anymore, luke,” may said, shaking her head. “after this tour, you guys are taking a break. no touring, no public appearances.”

“what?” connor exclaimed, joining luke off the stage. the other boys followed, looks of bewilderment evident on their faces. “w-we can’t take a break now!”

“yeah, c’mon, mama c!” chris added, shaking his head, “we’re just getting really big. if we quit now, we’ll lose this momentum.”

“you’re not quitting. it’s just a tiny break– three months,” she cut them off, raising a hand in a stop. “we’ll release a statement to the press saying you guys will be taking some time off to work on your sophomore album so people have something to look forward to when you return.”

“okay, so that’s the cover story,” luke ran a hand through his curls. he knew that there was no winning against his mom when she made up her mind. he looked at her and spoke before the rest of the band continued their protests, “but what are we actually gonna be doing?”

“you’re going to spend your summer in montauk, just like old times,” his mom explained, voice still stern. “you’re going to camp half blood.”

“what the fuck is a camp half blood?” chris asked, plopping down on the couch they had inside their dressing room. rehearsal was cut short following the news delivered by luke’s mom.

“it’s a music camp,” luke explained, fidgeting with random things sprawled across his desk, trying to find the pack of cigarettes he hid. he really needed to clean up. “my dad used to take me there over the summer when i was younger.”

the topic of luke’s dad was a sore subject for him. his dad left him and his mom when he was 7 for some young waitress from their hometown diner. one second, he was signing up for little league with his dad as the coach; the next, he was sitting in the hallway listening to his mom cry after his dad packed a bag and left town with wendy the waitress in the passenger seat. luke hasn’t heard from him since then. last he checked, his dad was lounging beachside in santa monica with his third wife who was definitely too young for him. as far as he’s concerned, his dad was dead to him.

but he couldn’t deny that his time at camp half blood was the place of origin of some of his best childhood memories. he got his first taste of what it was like to be on stage at camp half blood; the adrenaline coursing through his veins, the pounding of his heart at the applause, the wild images in his head about what it would be like to be known for his music-- it all started at camp half blood. he was his happiest at camp, at least before his dad ruined it for him.

“is it fun?” travis asked, twirling a fresh pair of drumsticks between his fingers.

“used to be, yeah,” luke chuckled, hoisting himself up to sit on the desk. “haven’t been there since i was seven.”

“dude, i do not want to hang out with a bunch of little kids all summer,” chris groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“relax, rodriguez,” luke lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke before continuing. “there’s two sides to the camp. we’ll be with the older kids.”

“oh shit, is camp half blood mr. d’s music camp?” connor asked. the name of the camp was starting to sound familiar to him.

luke took another drag, nodding, “that’s the one.”

“dude, i fucking love mr. d. he always has the wildest stories,” travis laughed, “he’s so mellow and chill now, i wouldn’t’ve ever guessed he used to be like that.”

“it was the 90’s,” chris shrugged, “pretty sure everyone was like that at one point.”

“paid off for him though,” connor replied, opening a bag of doritos. he offered a chip to his brother, who in return, snatched the bag for himself. connor rolled his eyes, reaching over to grab another one. he was used to this. “i mean being a ceo of a multi-million dollar recording company isn’t too shabby.”

luke hummed along, mindlessly, letting the chatter of his bandmates fill the air. the three boys fell into a conversation about the last time they saw mr. d at the recording studio when they were finishing up the vocals for their debut album, but luke’s mind was far away from the topic at hand. he couldn’t shake the feeling of disappointment from his body. he knew the way his mom looked at him would haunt him for the next few nights.

it wasn’t like he was actively trying to disappoint her– really, he wasn’t, but he just gets so caught up in the noise of fame that he forgets how to act under the pressure. there was something about his mom breaking down in front of him because of him that tore him apart. he felt guilty. his mom didn’t ask for this life, she didn’t even want it. she was content being a suburban mom in westport, connecticut, but she gave up her comfy life to let luke live out his dreams of being a musician.

he was lucky, he knew that. not every mom would be on board with her kid dropping out of traditional high school to perform rowdy songs about teenage angst, but may castellan was okay with it because she loved luke so much and wanted him to be happy. so when poisoned mercury got a record deal with olympus records, she didn’t hesitate to drop everything and go on the road with four unruly teenagers, promising their parents that she’d take care of their sons.

sometimes, he thinks about what his mom sees when she looks at him. he wonders if she still recognized him, the him before all the fame got to his head.

he was may castellan’s little boy. the boy who used to beg his mom for chocolate chip cookies after a bad day at school, who used to knock on her door in the middle of the night wondering why he wasn’t enough for his dad to stay, and who cried when she got him his first guitar on his tenth birthday. for most of his life, it’s always just been him and his mom.

now, at 19, luke didn’t know who he was anymore. he was just going with the flow, doing whatever, doing whoever, his fame and his status threw his way. he did what any teenage boy would do in his position– he drank, he smoked, he had fun, maybe too much fun, sometimes. it’s a rockstar’s life, his wildest dreams come to life, but it was a distraction, mostly. luke wasn’t brave enough to face the music just yet, so he dove into this fantasy head-first, too afraid to look back.

except sometimes, he fucks up really badly, like in toronto, and he’s forced to deal with the consequences of his actions. one time, his mom cut the band off from playing video games on the tour bus for a month after a heated argument between the four of them caused them to cancel a show. the argument was stupid. luke was adamant that scorpions did not have the same mental capacity for understanding pain that humans do and that did not bode well with travis. rehearsal ended in a brawl because travis kept doing impromptu drum solos to drown out luke’s voice. his mom was pissed that hundreds of fans were disappointed over the canceled show and it was all because they couldn’t agree over a damn scorpion.

another time, she banned them from driving the golf carts around the venue when they crashed it into a very expensive sound system in portland. they ended up owing upwards of $4,000 for the damages and were banned from playing at the event space ever again. the four of them laughed about it when the chaos of it all subsided, and they were fine not playing at the house of hades again, but they did miss the snack bar they set up for visiting talents. chris said he still dreamt about the pomegranate juice ‘til this day.

luke can look back at the punishments over the years fondly now. in the grand scheme of things, none of it really mattered. but going to camp half blood? this was a different type of punishment.

luke didn’t want to go to camp half blood. the last memory he had of camp was not a welcomed one. plus, after what he experienced on tour, he could think of a million other ways to spend his summer months, and living at a camp with spotty cell service and designated arts and crafts time was nowhere near the top of the list.

“yo, castellan,” chris’ voice snapped luke out of his thoughts. “you comin?”

luke put out his cigarette against the wood of his desk, “huh?”

“we’re grabbing food, do you wanna go with us?”

luke hopped off the desk, slipping on his black, puffer jacket, “yeah, i’m right behind you.”

as luke was walking out of the dressing room, adjusting his t-shirt, he saw his mom talking to teddy, their publicist. they were engaged in a serious conversation, no doubt talking about the press release regarding their second album and their hiatus. luke stood in front of the door for a brief moment, a stutter in his steps, not knowing if he should interrupt.

luke pursed his lips, deciding to jog over to his mom.

“i think we should post it on the band accounts first before the boys announce it individually. it make–” may furrowed her eyebrows, noticing luke coming closer to her. she turned her body to face him. she looked much calmer now than she did during rehearsals, “hey, what’s wrong?”

luke shook his head, “nothin’, mom. i just–uh, just wanted to say sorry again.”

“let’s talk later, may,” teddy gave the two of them a small smile before walking away.

“i’m not changing my mind about camp half blood,” she frowned. “sorry, luke but i can’t have you guys running around all sum–”

“no, no, i know, mom. i-i didn’t come here to try to convince you,” luke looked down at his feet, suddenly feeling like a little boy again. “i just– uh, shit. okay, i’m sorry for toronto. it was a bad time and it’s not fair that you have to deal with the fall out of our shit. and uh– thank you for sticking by us even though we drive you kinda crazy.”

may laughed, smiling at her son, “you’re my kid. you know i’ll always be there to set you straight.”

“thanks, mom,” luke chuckled, backing away to catch up with his bandmates. may waved goodbye, making her way to teddy’s makeshift office. before luke left the tunnel, he turned around, “wait mom! last thing!”

she raised her eyebrows, “what?”

luke raised his hand in a thumbs-up motion, grinning from ear to ear, “love you!”

“i love you too, kiddo,” may replied, a hand over her heart. “now scram, i gotta clean up your mess.”

#frances writes #hermes will never beat the deadbeat dad allegations #poisoned mercury #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke pjo #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

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cowgurrrl · 18 days

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I Don't Smoke

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader

Author's note: this hatched as an idea for @tightjeansjavi 's june writing challenge but it doesn't end as I thought it would necessarily but I kinda lurv it so (ps thank you @egcdeath for your help 🫶)

Summary: "Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be. Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose. Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go. Acceptance is a small quiet room." aka Javi makes a reappearance in your life [8.6k (she’s a whopper)]

Warnings: canonical type shit

It's a random Friday in April 1998 when you're walking down the hallway of FBI headquarters and hear a familiar voice call your name. Not just any voice but a voice you came to know as well as you would know your own. A voice you loved. A voice you haven't heard in four years. You freeze in your tracks and take two breaths before you actually turn around to see him.

He smiles big as he approaches you, and you struggle to find the same response. His hair is shorter and styled nicely, and he's wearing a bureaucratic suit, which you know he hates or used to hate. He's broader than you remember and seemingly more confident. You're still tense, but once he's close enough, muscle memory takes over, and you hug him.

His cologne is different. For some reason, that tugs at your heart.

"Hey, honey," he says into your hair, squeezing you a little harder. You hold him for another second before remembering you're at work and let him go. "Wasn't expectin' such a warm welcome."

"Well, that's what happens when you see an old friend for the first time in a long time." You say and Javi smirks, scratching at the stubble on his jaw.

"'Old friend.' Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"It is when I'm at work and have a reputation to uphold."

"Right," he says and puts his hands up in defense. "Didn't mean to insult Ms. FBI."

"What are you doing here? Last I heard, you resigned." You redirect, making him laugh even though you just gave away that you kept up with him even after you broke up.

"Stoddard asked me to teach a few classes to incoming DEA agents. Figured it was a good enough reason to get out of Texas," he says. You step to the side to let somebody go by in the hallway, and that ever-wandering eye falls down your body. "You look great."

"You too," you adjust some files against your chest, suddenly all too aware of how heavy his gaze is, and glance around. "How long are you in town for?"

"A week. We should get drinks or something. Catch up." He says, and you laugh at the absurdity of it all. You're talking like you went to college together, and you're gonna reminisce about the good ole days over a few drinks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Sure, Javi. When are you free?"

"For you? Any time," he says so easily your heart squeezes. "But, I'm around tonight. I can meet you at the bar across from the Hill after work?"

"That works for me."

"Alright, then. I'll see you tonight." He smiles and looks you over again before swaggering down the hallway and into one of the classrooms like he used to walk to your desk or into your apartment. Nostalgia and something bigger bubbles in your throat, and you swallow it down.

You've often wondered about what it'd be like if you ever saw Javi again.

You never expected it would sting as much as it does.

You force yourself down the hallway into your office and let out a big sigh as you bury your head in your hands. Your engagement is cold against your skin.

You should be planning a wedding. You should be debating which version of white the napkins should be— eggshell or cream— or fighting with vendors on the phone. You should be doing a lot of things in the two months leading up to your wedding. Getting drinks with your ex is not one of them.

You worked at the United States Embassy in Bogotá during the hunt for Pablo Escobar in the early nineties. You were a fresh graduate from the DEA academy and got shipped off the day after you passed all your exams. They needed bodies in chairs and on the ground doing work to end the drug war, and you just happened to have a pulse and the qualification. Javier Peña happened to have those same things. Now, he's known as one of the men who took down the most dangerous crime syndicates in Latin America, but, at the time, he was just Javi.

He was a little older, a little more experienced, and, by all accounts, a little bit of a slut. He had a wandering eye and a bad habit of sleeping with newly minted Embassy employees who didn't know better. You were warned about Javi and his brown eyes and swagger, but you couldn't avoid him. He was your coworker, for Christ's sake. So all you could do was remind yourself you were there for a job and try to ignore him when possible. What they don't tell you about being thousands of miles away from home and dealing with nightmare-inducing horrors every single day is that you start looking for comfort wherever you can find it.

You made bad decisions like smoking cigarette after cigarette, sneaking just a little bit of whiskey in your coffee, or letting Javi bend you over his desk and leave bruises on your skin as he buried himself inside you. One time, you told yourself. You'll do this one time to get it out of your system, and then you'll both move on. As long as it didn't interfere with work, you thought it was okay to fuck him once, but either convenience or care kept you reaching for each other for the rest of your time in Colombia.

You spent most nights at his apartment because it was a little nicer and it felt like it would be too real if he entered your space. For all his sarcasm and hard edges, he was sweet with you. He'd make you breakfast and drive you to work under the guise of carpooling. Over time, you started to learn all his little quirks and tells, and you looked for him first when the smoke cleared and the gunfire ceased. He started stealing files off your pile of paperwork so you'd have less work to do, cook your favorite meals, and was ready with open arms when things got to be too much.

The love was like everything else that happened between you: quiet yet all-consuming.

As the months stretched on and you only grew to love him more and more, you started to imagine a life with him. You were naive and had too much faith in the world, but you couldn't stop yourself. The daydreams of a house with a big backyard, a dog, and maybe a few kids to fill it kept you alive when it felt like not even the weapon attached to your hip could. You wanted it so bad. You told him how much you wanted it, and he agreed despite how fucking crazy it sounded out loud. Love allows you to be delusional to avoid the possibility of rejection.

And you loved him so much that you let yourself believe once Escobar was dead or in prison that, you could go home together and live a somewhat normal life. That he could give it all up. That you could make it work.

So you threw yourself into the hunt. You didn't sleep. You barely ate. You went from smoking a few cigarettes a day to a pack as you got closer and closer. Javi wasn't much better off, and you definitely enabled each other's behavior, but you believed so hard in this future that you thought it would be worth it in the end.

He got snappy, and you argued a lot. You both shut down so much that it's a miracle you could find your way back to normalcy. He didn't even tell you when he got sent to D.C. for questioning. He just disappeared. When you and Steve stood over Escobar's body on a rooftop in Medellín, you couldn't focus on anything but the blood splatter on the shoes Javi got you as an early Christmas gift. At the end of the day, your only thought was, "It's over. We can go home. We can start over. We can make something of this."

Escobar wasn't even cold when Javi accepted a new position in Cali.

Everything he'd seen and done, the things you counseled each other through, the faces that kept him up at night didn't matter as much as that job. He broke the news to you as you were packing up your apartment. "There's an opportunity out there for you, too," he said, looking at you with those big eyes. You almost folded, drowning in affection for him, until you remembered how many times he'd almost died or disappeared without a word or struggled so much he buried his memories between your legs or at the bottom of a bottle.

How could he want to return to that? How could he want you to return to that?

That's when you broke.

You don't remember exactly what was said during the argument, but you know it was bad. There was a lot of yelling and tears. You said things you didn't mean, and he returned the favor. It went on for what seemed like hours, back and forth back and forth, until you were exhausted and done negotiating. You gave him an ultimatum: come to D.C. with you and start your lives, or go to Cali. He chose Cali. You chose D.C., and that was it.

That had to be it.

You didn't talk much in those final days, but you did a lot of crying. The horrors he helped keep at bay threatened to suffocate you. You were a shell of a person, but you couldn't reach for him again, knowing he didn't love you enough to stay with you. You had the tiniest shred of self-respect.

So, the day you left, you gave his stuff back, and he drove you to the airport in complete silence, even walking you all the way to the terminal without saying a word. His final act of care even when you'd told him you hated him forty-eight hours earlier. You waited until the very last second to get on the plane, hoping he'd change his mind or you'd change yours. You were both too stubborn and too broken, so you wished him luck and left. You didn't even hug him because you were so scared you'd never leave his arms if you did.

Things happened fast once you were stateside again. Within a week, you found a nice apartment in D.C., transferred to the FBI, adopted a cat named Astro, and swore off dating. With all your experience in Colombia, you got your pick of jobs and workload. You avoided field work for a while and got stuck pushing papers around at your desk, but you got bored three months in and asked to go back out. Your first case back in the field had you dealing with a serial arsonist who may or may not have had ties to a terrorist group. You were examining the rubble of yet another building when one of the firefighters called your name.

Harry was tall and charming and trying to explain something about accelerants, but all you could do was watch his scarred hands as they pointed. You remember thinking he was going to be a problem. It took three more fires for you to catch your guy, and Harry would later say it took those fires to build up the courage to ask you out. "You were much scarier than any fire," he told you. He had soot on his cheeks, and the flashing lights made his eyes sparkle. There was something about that stupid New York accent that just made you melt.

You thought one date couldn't hurt. You thought it would help you adjust to your new life. When he showed up in a nice shirt with a bouquet of flowers to pick you up for your first date, you knew you were fucked.

You went on a second date. And a third. And a fourth. He was patient with you as you struggled to open up to him about your time in the DEA and never pressured you to tell him anything you weren't ready to. That Christmas, you went home to New York with him and met his parents and all three of his sisters. By the next spring, you, Harry, and Astro moved into an apartment halfway between each of your jobs.

You got into the habit of bringing him cookies when he worked overnights at the station and smelling his shirt when he got home because, more often than not, it'd still smell like smoke. He'd surprise you with coffee or flowers at work "just because" and drag you away from your desk when you've been staring at the same words for however long. When a bullet grazed you in the middle of a chase, he made one of his EMT friends drive him to the hospital you were at in the ambulance with the lights on so he could get there as fast as possible. He made it in seven minutes and started crying the moment he saw you lying in the hospital bed, even though you were completely fine.

For something as unexpected as this relationship, you guys work really well. He cooks dinner, and you wash the dishes at the end of the night. He looks at big houses in nice neighborhoods and humors you even though there's no way you can afford it with two civil servant paychecks. But, when you see him playing with your nieces and nephews, something so deep inside you aches that you think the life-long debt would be worth it if it meant he got to be a dad. You take time off to visit his family, and even though he thinks it's the most badass thing about you, he doesn't say anything about your involvement with Escobar until you accidentally let something slip during a barbecue. When work gets too much, you hold each other, cry, and make promises to stay alive.

He proposes to you on the fourth anniversary of your first date. You knew he would because you'd looked at rings together, but you blub like a baby anyway and almost tackle him to the ground in Rock Creek Park. You're deliriously happy as you celebrate your engagement and even as you start to plan the wedding. It's like you blinked, and suddenly, it'd been four years since you left Colombia, and you're living the life you dreamt about, just with a new person. A person you love so fucking much, you still get butterflies when he walks in the room. The ring on your finger and the way he casually drops "my wife" into conversation when he means "fiancée" only adds to the giddiness.

You can't wait to spend the rest of your life with him. So, why the fuck did you agree to get drinks with Javi?

You pick your head up and dial the firehouse number before your brain can fully devolve into panic mode. They might be out dealing with a fire, but you figure it's worth a shot. On the second ring, Jack answers with his gruff "D.C. Fire Station 19."

"Hey, Jack."

"Oh, hey, darlin'! How're you doin'?" He asks, and you swear you can hear him smiling. Jack is one of Harry's best friends and groomsmen, and he absolutely adores you.

"I'm good. How're you?" You ask, already feeling the weight come off your shoulders just from talking to someone.

"You know, I can't complain. I mean, I could, but I won't," he says, and you laugh. "You callin' for your lover boy?"

"If he's not busy, yes."

"Nah, you're all good. Well, listen, it was nice talkin' to you, sweetheart. I'll get him now." He says before yelling Harry's name through the station so loud you wonder if the neighbors could hear him. There's some shuffling and a quick "'S your wife" as the phone changes hands. The identifier makes you laugh and it's the first thing Harry hears when he presses the phone to his ear.

"Oh, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that." He swoons, and you make a sympathetic noise.

"Rough day?"

"No, I just miss you."

"You're so cheesy," you say. "I miss you too. A lot."

"You okay? You sound off." He asks, and you chuckle. Of course, he caught the tiniest change in your voice.

"I'm okay. I bumped into somebody I worked with in Colombia today, so I just… feel weird," you say, rubbing your forehead. You hear him shuffle like he's trying to move to a more private place, but the cord on the phone isn't letting him get very far.

"Good weird or bad weird?"

"I don't know. Just weird. We're gonna get some drinks tonight and catch up."

"Maybe that'll help," he chirps. "I mean, as much as I like listening to your stories, it might make you feel better to talk to someone who was there. Maybe get some closure."

"Maybe." You say. It goes quiet on the line, but you know he's there because you can hear him breathing and hear the distant sounds of the firehouse. You don't feel pressured to say anything; just knowing he's there breaks up the tension in your chest. "Chief is gonna have your ass if he finds out you're running up the phone bill." You tease, and he laughs.

"I'll just tell him I'm talking to my wife, and if he doesn't want me on the phone, then he should stop making me work overnights."

"Which I'm sure he'll take well."

"You're his favorite. I'm almost positive he'd install a whole phone just for you," he says. It's true, but hearing it still makes you smile. It goes quiet again.

You watch people mill around the bullpen from your office window and chew the inside of your cheek. You should tell him it's Javi. He wouldn't discourage you from getting drinks with him, but he knows your history with him. He should be in the loop. He's going to be your husband, for God's sake. But you also don't need him worrying about this while in a burning building or doing CPR.

"You know I'm not technically your wife for another two months, right?" You change the subject, and he hums.

"Yeah, but it has a nice ring to it. My wife." Even the way he says it over the phone makes you giddy.

"I can't argue with that." You say. He takes a deep breath, and you copy him.

"You're gonna be okay. Go get drinks with your friend and try to have some fun. Maybe invite them to the wedding if you get drunk enough and decide it's a good idea," he suggests, and you laugh at the idea of Javi at your wedding. "I'll be home tomorrow afternoon, and we can talk about it or not talk about it if that's what you want, okay?"

"Okay." You resolve and twirl the phone cord in your fingers.

"I love you."

"I love you, too. Have a good day. Don't be a hero."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He says. You wait another second to have him nearby before hanging up and looking out over the bullpen again.

You could not show up. You could go home, cuddle with Astro, and put on Sex and the City or something else to take your mind off the day. You could go to bed early and take Harry breakfast in the morning. You know his hair will be messy and a little darker than normal, but he'll still smile and pull you into his lap even though the guys tease him all the time about your PDA.

But you're also too interested in what Javi could have to say to do that. You owe it to yourself to get closure or answers or whatever the fuck he has left to offer you.

And then you'll never think about him again.

Easy.

It's a slow day filled with paperwork and pencil-pushing at the FBI. No bombs or killers or threats. Just meetings and emails and the dread about meeting with Javi all day. You linger around the office a little longer than you need to until you're almost late, and only then do you start walking to the Hill.

It's bustling with tourists dying for a peek at the cherry blossoms scattered around D.C. and the Suits you usually see trying to get home. The April sun feels good on your skin, especially after being inside all day, and you take a moment to watch the sun dip lower and lower in the sky.

All things considered, if Javi was going to visit D.C., this would be the time to do it. Spring is in full bloom, and the last dredges of winter only show up at night or early in the morning when it's still cold. People are constantly out walking their dogs or taking their kids to the playgrounds. It feels like the city has come alive again after such a long winter. You come up with a list of recommendations of things for Javi to do while he's here, even though he probably won't do any of them. The least you could do is give him something to distract himself from work.

By the time you get to the bar, the sun has nearly set, and traffic is a waking nightmare. You push your anxiety away and duck into the bar, searching for Javi's familiar eyes amongst the exhausted interns and law students. He's in the corner, scanning the space just like you thought he would, and there's a glass waiting for you at the table. His eyes light up when he sees you, and your chest aches.

He gets up to greet you with a hug and pulls your chair out for you like a gentleman. "Don't know if your order's changed, but I figured I'd make a guess." He says, gesturing to your drink as you settle across from each other. You smile and hang your jacket on the back of your chair.

"Thank you. Next round is on me," you say as you raise your glass to his and take a sip. "How was teaching?"

"It was fine. Although I wish they'd actually listen instead of just staring at me like I have a second head." He says, and you laugh.

"You're a living legend to them. Escobar and the Godfathers of Cali? You might be the most experienced person they've come across."

"I think I'm the person professors warn students not to be in the field."

"There are much worse things to be than a Javier Peña or a Steve Murphy," you say. "Besides, I think the DEA has bigger problems than a few rogue agents."

He shrugs and glances up when the bell above the door chimes, checking out whoever just walked in. He did the same thing when you sat in bars in Colombia like he was always waiting for a fight. You used to tease him about it, but the fact that he still does it makes you smile.

"Steve sends his love, by the way." He says.

"How is he? How old is Olivia now?"

"She's gonna be five soon, and they're about to have another baby. A boy," he beams. "They're all doing good. Steve runs training courses for FBI agents now and sometimes goes back to Colombia to liaise with their government. Connie works at a hospital, and Olivia's in Pre-K."

"Sounds like you guys talk a lot." You're pleasantly surprised. They were good partners, but they could barely stand to look at each other when things got tense. Not to mention Steve leaving the DEA at the same time you did.

"Well, when Olivia started calling me Uncle Javi, it was pretty hard to ignore him," he says, and you 'aw' at the idea of her little hands reaching for him. Uncle Javi suits him. "She's a good kid."

He fills you in on his work in Texas and asks about your transfer. You tell him what you can about your job and the annoying bureaucrats you hate working with. He seems lighter than you've seen before, not just because of the drink in his hand. His shoulders are relaxed, and even though he still has the instincts of someone working in the field, he doesn't get trapped in them like he used to. It's a nice change.

You're almost done with your first drink when he digs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offers you one. God, when was the last time you even bought a pack of cigarettes? It had to have been right after Harry came home from a particularly bad fire resulting from a stray cigarette. Three people died. After that, you couldn't pick up a cigarette without thinking about the seventeen-year-old who got stuck in the apartment. That must've been three years ago now.

"I quit," you say, and he raises his eyebrows at you.

"That's new." He says like your hair turned blue before his eyes, but pops one into his mouth anyway. You shrug.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"No, no, 'm not disappointed. Just surprised."

"Yeah, well," you sigh. "American cigarettes aren't as good as the Colombian ones."

"I guess that's true," he says as he flicks his lighter open and inhales until the end glows. Just as always, he politely blows smoke away from your face. "Alright, so you got a new job, a new apartment, a cat, and you quit smoking. What else has changed since I saw you last?" He asks, and your thumb immediately presses into the band of your engagement ring.

Well, it's now or never.

"I, uh... I'm getting married," you say, and his eyes fall to your ring. "In two months." He takes a big sip.

"Congratulations," he says. It might be the most unenthusiastic thing you've ever heard somebody say. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"His name is Harry. We've been together for a few years now."

"What's he do?" He asks in his interrogator's voice, and you give him a look.

"We don't have to do this." You say. Javi takes another drag of his cigarette and grinds his teeth.

"Do what?" He asks. "It shouldn't be hard to talk about if you love him."

"I do."

"Then, why don't you want to tell me about him?"

"Is that a serious question?" You scoff, and he shrugs. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"I already asked you," he says. "What does he do for work?"

"He's a firefighter." You know it's a cliche: a cop and a firefighter, but you don't really care.

"How'd you meet?"

"First field case I had was an arsonist. He was one of the guys on site when I got there."

"Romantic," Javi muses, and you hum. You wait for him to continue bombarding you with questions, but the air gets thick, and suddenly, all you can do is take big gulps of your drink. You signal to the bartender for another, and Javi finishes his cigarette in silence. "Well, I'm happy for you," he says softly. He doesn't seem like he is, but you know better than to press him, so you just nod.

"Thank you," you say. The bartender drops two more drinks off at your table, and Javi raises his glass to you.

"Here's to you and Terry-"

"Harry," you correct, and he laughs, breaking up the tension that's settled. He took the news much better than you expected, but you're still waiting for the other shoe to drop. There always seems to be one waiting when Javi's around.

"To you and Harry and a lifetime of happiness." He says, tapping his glass against yours and taking a drink. "Now, tell me what you've been doing with the fuckin' FBI."

"Oh, you're gonna need to buy me a few more drinks before I start spilling government secrets, Peña." The name rolls off your tongue before you can stop it, and it brings you back to hot Colombian days and red yarn on a corkboard and his apartment. He raises his eyebrows like it's a challenge and smirks.

"Don't tempt me with a good time."

It's late and you're drunk. Drunker than you've been in a while. You didn't mean to. You just kept talking and drinking, and it felt so good talking to him after so long. Once you got through with the elephant in the room, it was so easy to fall back into the groove with him. You talked about Colombia and your lives outside of work. You even tell him the story of accidentally letting it slip that you used to work for the DEA after smoking a little bit of weed with Harry's sister, Caitlin.

You laughed together until last call and then argued over who would pay the tab. "Consider it my weddin' gift," he half-slurred, and you rolled your eyes and let him pay.

Now, you're strolling the empty National Mall, working off your buzz and elongating the time you have with him. You didn't realize how much you missed him until tonight. Despite everything that happened, you did have good days with him. Days filled with music and chain smoking and laughter. You'd like to get those back. You'd like that version of him back.

As you walk, you point out monuments to him and messily retell the stories the tour guide told you when Harry thought a walking tour of D.C. was a good second-date idea. You switch presidents and periods too much to make sense, but Javi listens anyway. Every so often, his warm hand will brush against yours, barely touching your skin but enough for you to notice when he does it. Neither of you say anything about it or break the flow of your conversation. Maybe it's for old-time's sake. Maybe it's because you don't know what there is to say. The night is clear and eerily quiet. The only sound besides your laughter and drunken stories is the chilly wind blowing through the trees and the clacking of heels from an exhausted-looking White House intern as she walks by.

Or, at least, it was until you stumbled across a busker by the Lincoln Memorial. The empty space echoes with the sound of his saxophone, and you smile as you get closer. There are a few other people milling around, and a few take turns throwing coins in his case. You've seen him playing here before, but you've never had the time to actually stop and listen. He's good. You wish you'd stopped sooner.

"You wanna dance?" Javi whispers in your ear, his breath fanning across your neck, and you furrow your eyebrows.

"Here?" You ask, and he shrugs.

"Why not?"

"Because nobody else is."

"C'mon," he tuts. "Live a little." He doesn't wait for you to say anything else. He just grabs your hand and pulls you a little closer to the musician. You sigh but let Javi hold one of your hands and rest the other on his shoulder. He smirks and you roll your eyes to hide the fact that you're shocked he wants to dance. With you. In public.

Sure, you had little moments where you danced in the kitchen, but never in public. Even then, it wouldn't have ever been his idea to dance. He's like a whole new person. You don't know how to feel about it.

What the fuck happened to him in Cali?

He spins you under his arm, and you do your best to follow his lead. You have two left feet as it is, something Harry has helped get out of your system, but the alcohol makes it even worse. You almost trip yourself but land against Javi's chest before you can hit the ground. He makes an oomph sound but doesn't do anything to push you away. You don't do anything to pull away.

The saxophonist continues playing, and the cicadas chirp nearby. If you listen hard enough, you can hear Javi's heartbeat. You think you'd know the sound anywhere. You memorized the rise and fall of his chest when you woke up from nightmares, and he was the one to calm you down. You used to count the contractions of the muscles in his heart until you fell back to sleep. It was often the first thing you heard when you woke up if bombs weren't going off somewhere in the city or your phone wasn't blaring with an emergency message from the Embassy.

And now, here it is again, unexpectedly thumping against you after four years, following the rhythm of the music surrounding you. Javi's warm as he tentatively rests his head against yours, and you feel his fingers flex around your hip. A mixture of his cologne and cigarettes invades your senses, and you can do nothing but ride the nostalgia wave until the song ends.

You pry yourself from Javi to turn and applaud the saxophonist, and he gives a gracious bow. Javi looks a little disappointed that the song is over but drops a ten-dollar bill in the saxophone case anyway.

"Didn't take you for a dancer." You say as you walk away from the Lincoln Memorial, and he shrugs.

"'M full of secrets now."

"I guess so," you say. You start walking toward your apartment, suddenly too cold and tired now that you're a little more sober. Javi follows, putting himself between you and the street and grazing your lower back whenever you cross the road. He's always been protective of you, even before you started dating. It makes sense he would still be, right? You're trying to make sense of the muddled mess in your head when Javi pulls his cigarettes out of his jacket, and you eye them. You must not be as discrete as you thought you were because he laughs at you.

"For someone who quit smoking, you look like you want a cigarette." He says, offering the pack to you, and you sigh. You take one from the middle and put it between your lips. Javi is quick with his lighter, and you lean into him just a little as you inhale. He watches your every movement like he's watching a miracle unfold before him.

You hate to admit how good the smoke feels in your lungs. After three years of not even looking at a cigarette, all it took was an offer and a quick puff, and you're back to the beginning. You'll start again tomorrow.

"Don't tell Harry." You say as you blow smoke away from him, and Javi laughs.

"What? He doesn't like you smoking?" He asks, looking for a reason not to like Harry, and you chuckle.

"It's not that. I've just heard one too many horror stories about a stray cigarette starting a fire." You say, and he hums.

"Is that why you quit?"

"Kinda. I also…" you start but then shake your head. "Never mind."

"What? Now you have to say it."

"You're not gonna like it."

"Try me." He says, and you inhale deeply, blowing smoke out of your nose. You think about telling him to leave it alone, but the alcohol and the pain in your chest tells you to say fuck it.

"I quit because it reminded me of you." You admit. He gets quiet. He takes a long drag of his cigarette and looks up at the stars as you silently spiral. You feel like you need two more cigarettes and a shot of tequila.

Javi has always had a special talent for making all your worst habits bubble to the surface.

"You're right, I don't like that." He says softly, and you nod. You walk a few blocks in silence. The only sounds are your shoes clicking against the pavement and the tiny crackling of your cigarette as you smoke. A siren blares somewhere in the city, and your stomach drops. It always does, but especially now.

Your fiancé is out there, putting his life on the line to save others because that's how good of a man he is, and you're getting drunk and slow-dancing with the man who broke your heart? You didn't even tell him it was Javi. What if something happens to him tonight, and you're out? What if you miss the phone call? Guilt gnaws at your throat like an angry dog, and you feel like throwing up. You swallow hard and stomp out your cigarette before it can get to the filter.

"I'm glad we did this," you say, trying to get things back on track. Javi gives you a weak smile. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"You know, Harry said there's a place for you at the wedding if you want it. I know you'll be back in Texas, but it could be fun. We'd love to have you," you say, and he shakes his head.

"I don't think that's a good idea." He says. You knew he'd say no, but it still stings.

"Just thought I'd ask." You say, and he nods. You're about two blocks away from your apartment, and you start fishing for your keys out of your purse when Javi stops. You keep walking, thinking he's going to finish his cigarette and pull out another one.

"Don't marry him." He says, just loud enough for you to hear, and ice floods your veins. Whatever alcohol left in your system seems to vanish, and you freeze.

"What?" You ask as you slowly turn around. Javi chews on his bottom lip and stares at you.

"Don't marry him," he says again. Something behind his eyes is familiar, and suddenly, you're the girl he couldn't leave Colombia for again. Tears prick in your eyes, and you shake your head. "You'll get bored in a few years, and you'll be stuck if you marry him."

"I love him."

"I love you."

"Stop," you mumble. He takes a step forward and cradles your face in his hands, tilting you up to look at him, and your jaw tightens. You wonder if he can feel it. "You don't love me."

"I do. I always have. I fucked up, and I'm so sorry for hurting you, but I'm here now. We can start over. I'll move to D.C.. I'll do whatever." He says in one breath like he's afraid he'll lose the courage to say the words out loud.

"It's too late." You say, and he shakes his head.

"No, it's not. We can go tonight. Anywhere you want. I-"

"You let me leave," you cut him off, years of frustration and heartbreak coming back up to the surface as you take his hands off your face. "I was drowning and you let me get on the fucking plane."

"I thought that's what you wanted."

"I wanted you to reject the position in Cali and come with me because I really thought you could at least try to love me more than your job."

"I couldn't just give the Cali position up." He says and you scoff and take a few steps away from him.

"But you could give me up," you say, throwing your arms up in defeat. "That's not love, Javi. That's having someone around to play with and throwing them out when you get bored."

"It wasn't like that."

"Enlighten me, then."

"Do you remember when Carillo died?" He asks and you take a deep breath before nodding.

Most of your memories of Colombia are muddled, but not that day. You were pissed Messina wouldn't let you go, but you were fine to let the Colombian police make the raid. Javi and Steve were anxious. You remember watching them stand next to the radio like guards and trying to guess what was going on in their heads. Javi's gaze lingered on you a few too many times to be an accident, and he smiled fondly at you. You joked about them paying for the drinks you'd have later to celebrate. Things felt stable enough for you to sit down next to Messina. You were halfway through a cigarette when the gunfire chattered over the radios.

It wasn't an ambush.

It was a fucking massacre.

They never stood a chance. The scene was horrendous. Hearing Messina call Mrs. Carillo to tell her what happened was worse. Steve, somehow, was able to go with Carillo, so he wasn't alone in transport back to Bogotá. You and Javi were the cowards who went back and drank until you stopped seeing the pile of bodies you felt responsible for.

Javi put his fist through the wall of his apartment when he got home that night. You wanted to cry but knew that if you started, you'd never stop and who were you to be crying? People had just lost their sons, husbands, brothers, and fathers on your orders. You didn't deserve to cry. It was the beginning of the end for you and Javi, but you clung to your idea of the future so hard, it had claw marks on it when you finally let it go and got on the plane.

So, yeah, you remember. You remember it all.

"I couldn't let that happen to you or anyone else ever again. It would kill me," he says. You're about to tell him it's not his fault, and it never was. It was shitty intel. It was a trap. It was a lot of things, but it wasn't his fault. That might be the only thing you can say for sure about that tragedy. "So, I put everything that wasn't work out of my mind and made bad decisions, and that's on me, but I never stopped loving you or believing in our future."

"Then, why didn't you fight for us?"

"I didn't know how. You were so…" He searches for the right word. "Sure. You knew you didn't want to go to Cali, and I couldn't make you stay."

"I would've if you said the word," you say. "Even though I was miserable in Colombia, I would've come back if you asked me to because that's how much I loved you. Even if you'd just called me after I got here, we probably could've worked something out, but I'm marrying the love of my life in less than sixty days. And I've never had to beg him to stay with me or give him an ultimatum and question if he loves me because he wakes up every day and shows me how much he wants to be with me. I can't walk away from that."

"Does he know what you did down there?"

"Of course, he does." You say, annoyance buzzing in your molars, and you cross your arms over your chest.

"Does he know everything?"

"You mean, does he know I've killed people?" You ask. "Yeah, it was super fun trying to explain that to him. You want to hear about how I hyperventilated through the whole thing, or do you want to ask me another question to try to undermine my relationship?" He purses his lips and shakes his head.

"No," he says. "I just don't think you know what you're getting yourself into."

"Fuck you, Javier." You spit. You don't know the last time you used his full name like that. Something about it feels wrong and makes your skin crawl. "You left one girl at the altar over a decade ago, and you think you know about marriage?"

"That's not fair."

"No, what's not fair is you coming here and making me feel like the bad guy for moving on. I deserve to be happy. I've worked, and I've cried, and I've fucking killed for it, and the second I feel like things are going my way, you do this!" You yell.

"I love you." He says again, like it'll change anything. The pressure behind your eyes returns, and you turn away from him, but he catches your wrist before you can. "Listen to me. I love you. I love you. I love you." He repeats over and over again, but all you hear is, "I love you, but I can't come with you." "I love you, but I need this." "I love you. Isn't that enough?"

You rip out of his grasp and punch at his chest with tears slipping down your face. He takes it, still saying that he loves you, and for some reason that hurts more. You push him hard and watch him stumble back, his brown eyes tracking the tears down your face.

"If you really love me-"

"I do." He cuts you off and you take a stuttering breath.

"Then, let me be happy," you beg. "Let me go. Please. If you love me, you'll do that for me."

You feel pathetic, standing there crying like he shattered your heart all over again as he just stares at you and thinks. You want to go home. You want this to end. You want to never see him again.

Maybe in twenty years, you could stand to face him again. You'll be happily married, and you hope he'll be, too. You'll have a few kids, and you'll tell stories about them and Harry will pull pictures of them out of his wallet. You won't hurt anymore. Maybe when your daughter goes through her first heartbreak, you'll find the courage to tell her about Javi. Maybe all this grief will be worth something someday. You want it to.

But right now, you're just the girl he didn't love enough to leave Colombia for, and he's not the man you love enough to marry.

He clears his throat, his own tears glistening in his waterline, and nods.

"Okay," he mumbles. "I'll tell Stoddard I had a family emergency or something back home. Get the first flight back." Your eyes flutter shut at his words, and you try to keep yourself from crying more.

"Thank you." You say.

"I love you." He says again, and you open your eyes. He's grinding his teeth again, and his hands are in his pockets as if he's forcing himself not to reach for you. You give him a small smile and nod.

"I know," you say. "I'm sorry."

Just as you did at the airport all those years ago, you stand awkwardly far apart, unsure of what to do now. He waits for you to change your mind. You won't. He'll get on the plane, and that'll be it.

He nods to himself one more time before turning to walk away.

"You do deserve to be happy. I've never doubted that. I wish I could've given that to you." He says like he's trying to convince you he's a good person. You sniffle and spin your ring around your finger.

"You did for a while. It's just Harry's turn to do that now," you say. "Goodbye, Javi." He opens his mouth like he's going to say goodbye or something else, but you turn your back to him and start walking toward your apartment before he can.

You figure, after everything, it's only fair that you get the last word.

You didn't sleep. You knew you wouldn't. Astro seems to sense your anxiety and cuddles into your chest, purring loudly to try and drown out your thoughts. You reassure her you're okay and kiss her head as the inky blue sky is replaced by a stunning pink and purple morning.

A good omen, you hope.

You force yourself to get up and get ready for the day. It's Saturday and a fire station breakfast day. It's never anything fancy: donuts picked up from a nearby cafe, greasy fast food breakfast, sometimes cold pizza. Today, you walk to a nearby bodega and pick up his favorite breakfast sandwich with two steaming cups of coffee before walking to the fire station.

It's cold, and D.C. hasn't quite woken up yet. It'll be a few hours before life returns as people sleep off hangovers or long weeks. That's okay. This morning is just for you.

The garage door is wide open when you get to the station, and Harry is perched on the back bumper with the firehouse dog, Maisie, whispering things to her. He looks tired. You don't think you look any better, but he still lights up when he sees you, and Maisie even starts wagging her tail.

"Hey there, stranger," you greet him as he pulls you closer and smirks up at you. "You have a good night?"

"No, but it doesn't matter now that you're here." He says. You would normally roll your eyes at his cheesiness but your chest fills with warmth instead. You lean down and kiss him. He smells like smoke but tastes like the chapstick you make him wear because of the heat. Maisie sniffs at the bag in your hand, and you laugh against his lips when she licks your arm.

"I think she's jealous." You say, and he sucks his teeth as he looks at Maisie.

"You have breakfast, you little terrorist." He reminds her but he immediately folds when she gives him that innocent look. "She can have one piece of bacon, but that's it. We need you trim to get up in the trucks, right?"

You pull a piece of bacon off one of the breakfast sandwiches and make her sit and shake before you give it to her. She crunches on it happily, knowing she's absolutely spoiled rotten. She makes space for you to sit next to Harry on the truck and you rest your head on his shoulder. "You okay?" He asks as he kisses your hairline, and you nod.

"Just missed you," you say. "I couldn't sleep last night." He makes a sympathetic noise and wraps an arm around your shoulder to tuck you further into his side.

"Were you thinking about Colombia?" He asks and you hum. "Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Not right now."

"Okay. You wanna hear about why our kids will never be allowed to buy candles ever? No matter how old they get or how much smarter they think they are than us?" He changes the subject easily, and you laugh despite the pain still radiating in your body. You know he'll be there when you're ready to tell him about last night, no matter how long it takes you, and you will tell him. Eventually.

"Hit me with it." You say as you unpack your breakfast sandwiches and pass him his coffee. Maisie wags her tail as you alternate between sneaking her treats and listening to Harry's story. He knows you're giving her extra snacks but won't ever stop you.

You sit there on the back of that dirty firetruck, talking and watching the sunrise together and debating on which version of white the napkins at your wedding should be— eggshell or cream— and know you'd do everything all over again if it meant this was the outcome. You love him with everything that you are and ever could be.

And as you eat your breakfast and soak up each other's presence, you find yourself hoping Javi could love someone like this someday. You believe he has it in him. You've seen it. Whoever ends up being the one to tie Javier Peña down will be lucky and loved.

It just wasn't meant to be you.

#tightjeansjavijunewritingchallenge #narcos fanfiction #narcos fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #javier peña #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fic #javier pena x you #javier pena imagine #javier pena one shot #javier pena angst #javi peña #javi p x reader #javi p fic #pedro pascal

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vengeful-horde-of-angry-ghosts · 9 months

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I think something to keep in mind regarding Kiriona and John's relationship, especially regarding the content of Kiriona and Ianthe's argument at the tomb, is what happens when they first meet. Yes, Gideon has a parent now! He's God! He gave her a new name connecting her to their culture and a commission in the cohort and made her his heir! Maybe he really is trying (when he's not drunkenly fucking his way through the cohort).

But the first time she meets him (during the Jerry Springer portion of the book), she sees the fight with Mercymorn and Augustine where he admits to lying about the cavaliers having to die. (As a cavalier who died, I think it would be totally reasonable for her to take this one personally.)

More importantly, she's angry with him for hurting Harrow. She straight up tells him, "Go to hell, Pops."

She watches Ianthe save him and says, "She got one choice, and not only did she blow it, but she blew it in such a huge fucking spectacular way that you would’ve been impressed had you not hated her for it."

Next sentence she calls John "the guy who had lied to everyone about everything."

Not a great first impression.

So back to Kiriona. She seems loyal enough. She plays the part. But she goes awol to get to New Rho first chance she gets (I don't believe for a second that John actually sent her there, especially considering there was no way to know they'd end up on the ninth. It has to be about Harrow, which Ianthe even asks.). She seems to me to be angry and defensive when she talks about what John has done to her body, her eyes "hard and dead and bright, like something that had been dug up" when previously they had been compared to Nona's eyes.

I feel like her loyalty to John isn't as secure as most people seem to think it is. If Harrow was disappointed by him as God while he still had his shit together, how disappointed must Gideon be to finally have a parent and it's John in his breakdown stage? Even Ianthe is disappointed by him.

I'm reminded of this exchange with Harrow in GtN:

“I need you to trust me.”

“I need you to be trustworthy.”

Given everything she's seen him do, I cannot imagine her finding John trustworthy. I can't imagine that a few months of playing happy families has changed that.

#only she's allowed to beat up Harrow #only she's allowed to save Harrow #i maintain that while she does have some familial feelings for John #her loyalty to Harrow supercedes everything #tlt #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #kiriona gaia #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #gideon my beloved #kiriona my beloved #angry ghost thoughts

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cherries-in-wine · 1 month

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A sort of rant/review (mostly negative) of the tortured poets department:

English isn't my first language so apologising in advance for the mistakes <3

I don't think ttpd would've had so much criticism if it wasn't so hyped up by swifties and Taylor herself. Folklore and Evermore are my favourite albums and because Taylor put so much emphasis on how good the songwriting of this album is i thought i was going to love it. So my expectations were a more Lana del rey or the national kind of vibe, orchestral pop or psychedelic rock and it would be like a third sister to folklore and evermore. I've noticed that Taylor's albums are all starting to sound like midnights. 1989 is such a good pop album but 1989 tv sounds midnightified especially the vault tracks sound like they belong on midnights. As much as I love Jack Antonoff as he gave us some great albums i think Taylor desperately needs a new producer. I think the album is definitely "raw" in the sense that unlike the other albums that are super put together, in order and organised, ttpd is messy like a bunch of paragraphs from her notes app thrown together, it isn't essentially a bad thing, but if you're gonna talk about how ttpd required more song writing talent than any other album, it's pretty reasonable for people to be disappointed. I thought name was a reference to joe's group chat name and kind of poking fun at that, but oh no it's an actual fuking asylum and the whole idea makes me very uneasy. The reason why folklore and evermore work is because it's not from the perspective of Taylor but rather the people she's made up in her mind and because she is such a good story teller those albums sound awesome. Something about a straight cis billionaire white woman calling herself a tortured poet in all seriousness and romaticising asylums/electroshock therapy makes me so so so uncomfortable. I understand why swifties are so defensive and protective of Taylor, with all the shit that happened with Kim and Kanye but I feel like they think she's a god that can do no wrong, which is stupid you can like an artist but still call me them out their shitty decisions. The "oh you think her singing writing is not that good why don't you write something better" is such a stupid argument, this random person criticising Taylor isn't constantly referred to as the greatest song writer of our generation, she is. I saw a post saying "the biggest burn is that most songs are about Matty Healy and not Joe Alwyn" like excuse me but if my ex that I dated for many years just starts gushing over a slimy ass Nazi racist sexist pathetic excuse of a man, I'd go "thank god good riddance". What happened to "you are what you love" Taylor?. I really like some songs, but I keep getting disgusted when It clicks who they're about. "But daddy I love him" is a great song but it's about ratty Healy fuck off ew.

I have a lot more to say but my brain isn't braining so I'll update later lol

#Taylor Swift #the tortured poets department #ttpd #anti Taylor Swift #anti matty healy #anti taylor swift #ratty healy

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drdemonprince · 1 month

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how did you know that seeking institutional help was the right step to take?

For four years I was always in high levels of care. When I transitioned out of that, I was a "revolving door patient" to ip units living with a carer the rest of the time. I sometimes self-harmed or did other actions intentionally to get hospitalized during that time. I'm going to focus on mostly that because I don't want to get into the weeds of how different psych treatment programs are categorized and run.

I would say that my goal of being hospitalized usually was to change something in my outpatient life - let my therapist know I wasn't willing to do something, get my companions to let me go for walks alone, whatever. I'd get hospitalized or call the cops on myself or send scary texts to my therapist and then try to end my life, eventually being stopped. I didn't want to die, but if I could prove to them I was willing to, they'd listen.

Another person mentioned a desire for closeness+physical touch, and that was a huge part of it for me. i even got restrained sometimes just because I wanted any touch, which is something commonly heard from incarcerated people. I had certain nurses and other staff who I saw as my family, calling my therapist "dad" and interacting in a needy, childlike way with floor staff.

I also liked how much it pared down my life. I was in college at the time, and found the social habits of the other students confusing and overwhelming, so I'd get hospitalized to miss class.

what helped you trust the professionals or the institution enough for it to be beneficial to you?

i wouldn't say I trust any of the institutions, but some staff earned my trust. I was a scary mean noncompliant patient so the few who actually bothered to get to know me were usually moments away from some kind of burnout where they realized all this shit sucks.

One of the things they did that earned my trust was to share about their own mental health or addiction history. This is encouraged in sud places, but usually VERY discouraged in psych units, moreso the higher level of care it is.

Another big thing was to allow me to break rules or break them themselves. My ex-therapist used to meet with me for extra time, give me my DVD player when I wasn't allowed, etc. and it felt like he saw me as equal. Turns out he sucks. but. during the time he was treating me he definitely helped me a lot with my thinking patterns, so the trust still ended up benefiting me, even if the relationship didn't always. He also talked A LOT about his family and life outside of work, and showed me pictures, and I even met his dog once.

for me this is an example of why therapists are kind of. not great? because he earned my trust enough to help me, I was at his defense. I felt like not getting better was something I was "doing to him", and his displays of sadness (once something I'd considered a positive aspect of his self disclosure) became a way to manipulate me into the hospital when I didn't want to go, without having to resort to force or law. i agreed with the assertion of psychology that he knew me better than I know myself, and gave every part of my personality, personhood, to the medical model.

so yes it helped as in now when I'm suicidal or about to bpd-style destroy my every relationship I think "play the tape forward what happens next" and don't. which is lame bc it means most of the people who treated me get to leave patting themselves on the back about how well im doing now.

which kinds of institutions have been *less* traumatic than the others?

A few times I got to live in supportive group home style places, and those are kind of nice! It was cool to be in a place surrounded by other mentally ill people. Much less lonely. In general, places that let you outside independently, let you access food independently (e.g. no staff in the kitchen), and let you keep some secrets from staff are the best. My quality of life was 100% better when all the program heads knew we were vaping in our rooms but just let it happen unless someone started setting off alarms. Ditto with like, being able to stay up late on Devices.

Having that independence, a place for my sense of self other than being a patient, was sooo sooo helpful.

is it sometimes worth simply not being able to act on the ideation, even if it means putting up with lots of institutional bullshit?

I didn't find the hospital particularly good at getting me to not act, instead they just prevented the worst consequences. All three hundred stitches I got for self-harm were while I was institutionalized. But like, my nerve damage is less than it could've been. I am not sure how to evaluate if that's better than having just died, because I have no idea how much the institution itself caused self-harm and suicidality.

all things being equal, would it always be better to be able to stay at a friend's house instead?

yes

if you could get 24-7 company from a loved one, would that be better?

yes. however. i think it would be good if people had some information about how to talk to suicidal people. like... i forget the training. but its similar to what they teach helpline volunteers. thats its ok to say suicide. to ask if they have a plan. to ask if theyd be willing to get rid of the means. etc.

SORRY IF THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE TO READ

this is a wealth of information, thank you!

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ystrike1 · 1 year

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Beast’s Flower - By Habrin (7.5/10)

Would you read a story about a cliche abused heroine and a possessive guy if it came with a little spice? Most people give smutty stories a chance when they're weird. So, this one is totally PG13 and the heroine is stinky. You heard me. Her magical powers make her stinky. She only smells good to the crown prince, because he's a panther man. None of that information is presented in a comedic way. The author is dead serious.

Lyla comes from a village where mages aren't seen as valuable inventors. They're still witches in the eyes of the uneducated and poor. Lyla was born stinky. Her magic is too strong. It's implied that the smell makes people fear her, but the "I'm stinky" curse is too damn funny please help me I can't fucking do this one...

Anyway.

Lyla is the daughter of a Baron. Nobody else has magic nearby so no tutor comes to save her. The maids abandon her and she starts living in the barn with the horses.

When she turns ten things get worse. Her father leaves her in a cabin near the mansion in the woods. He provides candles and minimal supplies. Lyla has no education. She's kinda dumb as a brick and defensive as hell, and she's stinky. The locals think she's a witch that eats children. Really, her life could not suck more.

Ariadne is Lyla's tall, normal smelling sister. Ariadne is a narcissist that thinks Lyla should die. She gradually makes Lyla's life even worse.

Lyla begs for more candles for her hovel. Ariadne says no, and Lyla's position is very realistic. Without candlelight she literally must live like an animal. Ariadne's sick games worsen her mental health, which is already questionable...at best...

One night, while Lyla is busy thinking about death, she hears a noise. It's a guest. A "lost" man has come. It's Prince Viorst, a prince that can transform into a beast at will!!!!

He doesn't tell her that. He pretends to be a passing noble who is lost and injured and in need of help.

Lyla rushes to his aid...just kidding she tries to stab him. Lyla doesn't trust him AT ALL. He even says he doesn’t have a sense of smell....which is also a lie. Lyla can't resist. No nose means she can maybe have a normal human friend. She's very uncivilized and blunt with him, but he doesn’t care.

Lyla's yucky stink smell...turns him on? Like he immediately wants to marry her, and no one else ever. Viorst is more beast than man. He is known as a sociopath who will do anything to maintain power. That's great for the country but he is deeply feared by all. He even threatens to sell off his head aide when he's kinda annoyed. Violence is part of his everyday life, and he thinks Lyla smells like a flower. A sexy one....

The flirtation is all one-sided until Lyla cracks. It's so ridiculous. Viorst acts like a normal Casanova type of man, even though his bride is in rags. It gets absurd and really creepy. Viorst doesn't feel human in the slightest. All of his sweetness is a ploy to capture Lyla, who is the only woman he has ever felt anything for.

By the way the shit with Lyla's family is actually really depressing??? Ariadne is the perfect daughter her father always wanted. She's not stinky and she's pretty. The Baron ignored her lust for blood, and now it's too late. The Baron is actually afraid of Ariadne. Ariadne thinks she's going to be Crown Princess, because Viorst is staying with them will he courts Lyla in secret.

He's staying there out of convenience.

As soon as Lyla agrees to go with him he's going to kill everybody in the manor.

Hardcore...

Ariadne doesn't know that, so she tries to seduce him the whole time...

Ariadne actually tries to fight back. Viorst admits he's after Stinky Lyla. Ariadne convinces her father to give the order for an old-fashioned Witch Hunt. By the way!!! Lyla's father did love her!!! He just kinda gave up on her because of the Witch Stuff and the stink. He used to visit her. Ariadne slowly convinced him that he didn't need an imperfect daughter. He hesitates to give the killing order until the last second, with Ariadne screaming in his face.

He still sucks, but Lyla could have had a better life. She didn’t get it because Ariadne is a violent, narcissistic wacko. This idea is pretty great. In any other story Ariadne would be a hateful villain, but her parents adored her until the end because she's not cursed/magical.

Viorst uses his beast form to scare the villagers and save(?) Lyla from the Witch Hunt. However, he does let them burn her cabin down. He practically forces her to come home with him, because there's no home left for her to cling to. He reveals that her father gave the order too. There's no chance to put Ariadne on trial for her madness. Lyla doesn't get the chance to reconcile with her father.

Viorst takes her away.

He unleashes his punishment.

He cuts off Ariadnes arm, because she dared to touch him.

He takes away the Baron's title, leaving him destitute.

Then, he sets the manor on fire while the entire family is still inside.

If they survive they all have to live as peasants.

Maybe Ariadne will live and return...but it's most likely that the family will choose to die.

They can't beat the prince.

Lyla learns that Viorst is the prince...when she's locked up safely in the castle. He pretends to be a normal noble until then. Lyla says she wouldn't have accepted his proposal if she knew and he's like...lol yeah that's why I lied to you the whole time...lol...

This is the beginning of a super healthy relationship. How wholesome.

Viorst wants to keep Lyla stupid too.

He doesn't want her to learn about her powers or anything. She just needs to stay in the palace and be loved by him.

......

Viorst is a real wackjob. Lyla is definitely a strong mage. After she learns a bit she'll be able to control the miasma/stink. Viorst doesn't care if she spends the rest of her life in isolation. At least let her get rid of the stink....come on....stinky....Why would you want to go down in history as The King with the Stankrank bride????

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #monster guy #monster boy #Beast’s Flower

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y2kbugs · 9 months

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Why Rincewind deserves your love

Tumblr loves characters like Rincewind right now. The sad, weary one who really doesn't want to be here but does it anyway cause no one else bothered, and is often vulnerable, cowardly, and a weakling compared to everyone else. In other words, the pathetic wet cat, the poor little meow meow.

Vimes is also a perfect example of this archetype, he's there and he's great, but Rincewind to me is a sort of hidden gem bogged down by the author's early writing and the struggle to live up to those later, more deep characters. It doesn't really help that Pratchett also got bored of writing him, and only felt obligated because he had fans (which in a way sounds like Rincewind himself), but...

The first two books aren't even bad. The only thing I'd say is that TCOM has some confusing writing going on and feels more like a collection of stories but it's good and could be better if rewritten. Rincewind is a wonderful character and Twoflower is a delight. TLF is a definite improvement writing and character wise and gives development to Rincewind.

He's not "a weak character who doesn't do anything but run". He is not badly written. He is a character who does not want to be the hero but does it anyway. He has deep empathy and believes that throwing your life away for a good cause is inherently selfish rather than selfless (and! he does this himself, kind of. He does make a sacrifice to help somebody, but he lives).

He isn't stupid. He might be the smartest character in his books, but that's more because the other characters are relatively kind of dumb. The only thing he's really bad at is being a wizard, that's it. He's not a good wizard, but he's a great strategist, he knows a lot about magic, knows almost every language on Discworld and this was how he got to know Twoflower in the first place. I would call him an average intelligence and very high wisdom character in DnD. He's intensely rational and will point out gaps in reasoning and logic. He might be a pessimist, but he has experience and he's going to use that.

That's not to say he doesn't make mistakes. He absolutely does, but making dumb mistakes is much different from willful and sheer ignorance which he does not display.

His hat says "Wizzard" because it's supposed to be a pun on "he can't spell", and it's highly unlikely that he actually misspelled it not knowing the actual spelling considering he reads a lot.

He is very, very defensive and adamant about his identity as a wizard. It's pretty much everything to him and he has a crisis whenever other characters mock and have general distrust of wizards.

He's done the following:

Beat the shit out of an eldritch horror until it ran away from him (TLF),

forced an extremely powerful spell out of his head with sheer will (TLF),

Defeated the most powerful deceased wizard possessing a magical staff with only a brick in a sock, and took both himself and the wizard's son into the Dungeon Dimensions, where he fought back creatures to allow the boy to escape. (Sourcery)

Gave the boy a speech about how it's important to not let anyone define who you are as a person and no one should have to tell you what to do (Sourcery)

Used a whole terracotta army to beat an entire army, and succesffully intimidated them via psychological tricks. (Interesting Times)

Brought rain back to Fantasy Australia and talked back against Death who convinced him to give up. (TLC)

Maybe he's not the most sympathetic character, because he's not chivalrous or manly. He has no bravery and freely admits to being a coward, he's kind of a jerk who cools down as time goes on, and he's selfish enough that he thinks being selfless is a total waste of time and is selfish in itself. He's a cynic and a pessimist with a worldview shaped by his terrible experiences on Discworld, but he's very well-traveled even against his own will, and from this experience he knows precisely how to get out of danger, how to outsmart an individual (or a whole army) and more.

He's shown empathy. Being tired at the world at large and not liking the other wizards very much but going out of his way to save the world from a wizard gone rogue anyway because nobody else bothered to and he's angry, saving a boy from his abusive father's power and diving headfirst into the Dungeon Dimensions, trying to convince an "army" of mostly children why trying to fight against a legitimate army of warriors is a horrible idea and will only get them killed, Helping some thirsty sheep out to get access to water despite not needing to, bringing rain back to Fantasy Australia even though he could have given up and gone home at any moment, being made a "test subject" for the wizard's project in creating Roundworld/Earth, learning aabout the life on there over millions of years and talking about how hard it is for life to grow on there in its earliest millions of years, teaching Roundworld inhabitats the importance of art and creativity not only to outsmart the elves but because he wanted to (while the other wizards considered him stupid for this idea).

And he doesn't want to be a hero, he has no obligation to and is perfectly happy just being alone in the library and reading old books. He wants a life of peace and quiet and nothing life-threatening, but unfortunately he's pushed into these situations. Often though instead of simply resigning himself and giving up altogether, he sucks it up and goes and does it anyway with the expectation that he can go home in the end. That, and by now he's already expected this is his role: to fix shit and go home, even though he'd love to have someone else do his job.

It rubs me the wrong way to see people call him one-dimensional or just "the guy that is scared and runs away"...That to me is like simply calling Vimes "the depressed cop who drinks a lot" or Granny Weatherwax "the old witch who kicks ass". Of course the character will seem one dimensional if you describe them that way. Vimes is better written overall and gets better development for sure, which is also what his character is built for, as well as a more serious story that doesn't lend itself as well to basically slapstick. Rincewind isn't built for overcoming his fears, but rather his selfish attitude and to finally find peace with himself, and he works as a comedic character while also balancing out the fact he can be anything other than a clown or coward.

He gets what he always wanted in the end too. Pratchett might not have wanted to write him anymore, but instead of simply putting him on a bus, he gave Rincewind a position at Unseen University, only dampened by the fact the other wizards clearly don't respect him, therefore he can't really be a professor as a job, but he doesn't mind. In fact, he loves that. He gets free food, a quiet place to stay, and has zero obligations. He's happy, and the last thing we know of him is that he's studying the effects of plants on the nervous system (Raising Steam), and he's very important in the Science Of Discworld series, initially being a test subject and later being the "to go" for information about Roundworld/Earth, even getting to keep the globe in his room.

#discworld #rincewind #this initially started out all casual but then it got long and essay-like as i am prone to writing #i probably got things wrong...correct me

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xoxoladyaz · 6 months

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Krampus Baby

Me: we should write a cute little holiday blurb to publish on Christmas Eve, maybe something Hallmark-y, maybe some mistletoe -

Also Me: KRAMPUS EDDIE KRAMPUS EDDIE KRAMPUS EDDIE

So that's what we've got for you today, my lovelies!

CW: BDSM, allusions to punishment, brief descriptions of sex, implied future monsterfucking

“Babe, this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Oh, really? And what exactly does this look like, Eddie?!” Steve stood in the doorway to Eddie’s all-purpose-game-room-slash-music-studio-slash-office and glared at him, his arms crossed tightly across his chest.

Eddie shot a frantic look at the guys. Gareth and Phil were very conveniently looking elsewhere (the traitors). Jeff, who was the only one brave enough to make eye contact with Eddie, just shook his head slowly. “You’re on your own, dude.”

Well, shit.

The truth is, Eddie knew he was the only person to blame for the situation he’d found himself in. But in his defense, it’s not like there’s a manual that you get when you become a Krampus that says “hey, here’s how you tell your boyfriend/girlfriend/partner/spouse/whatever that you’re a Krampus, meaning that you spend all of Christmas Eve travelling around your assigned region and birching people that Santa/Jesus/someone says needs to be scared onto the straight and narrow.”

Well. Maybe he could have just led with that and gone from there?

Fuck, this would have been so much easier if he’d just agreed to be a Santa but no, his dramatic gay eighteen-year-old born-in-the-North-Pole ass just had to pick the more flamboyant career option. And sure, it was fun for a while – he’d always had a flair for theatrics and performing and every December 24 he gave the performance of a lifetime – but after about ten years of birching undeserving creeps he’d realized hey, maybe something like this could be fun the other 364 days of the year with humans he actually liked (or, ya know, that he at least thought were hot and wanted to get off with.)

And so Eddie the Krampus became Eddie Munson, training Dom at the Hellfire Club, and after twenty-seven years of walking this earth, he finally felt like everything in his life had fallen into place. Naturally that’s when he met Steve Harrington, a bratty little prince with perfect hair and an even more perfect ass and fell madly in love – far past the point of no return, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars. He’d never really given a lot of serious thought to love or dating or anything like that because, you know, the whole Krampus thing, but from the moment he laid eyes on Steve his entire world had shifted to orbit around his beautiful, delightfully dorky, somewhat clueless human. Even more incredibly, Steve seemed to feel the same way because he'd given Eddie a key to his house after only four weeks of dating and happily reorganized his home so Eddie could have his own space and fuck, Eddie was going to marry this human and make him immortal and traipse all around the world with him until it was time for him the next generation of Krampus’ to take over.

(Krampusses? Krampusi? Krampussies? There really wasn’t a great plural form of his job title, was there?)

Right, it was a great plan, no, it was a perfect plan, because nothing could be better than almost-eternity with Steve. There was just one teeny tiny minor flaw with his plan, that being the fact that he, uh, forgot to tell Steve.

And now it was December 24th, and Eddie and the guys had finally gotten home from a long night of birching (which wasn’t really fun anymore now that Eddie got to punish someone he loved in a very, very fun way almost daily) and were unwinding with a beer when Steve had stormed in – Steve, who was asleep when Eddie left.

Steve, who was now seeing Eddie in his Krampus form for the first time (along with Jeff and Gareth and Phil). Steve, who looked angrier than the time that Eddie tried to experiment with forks in all of the electrical outlets in their house.

Steve, who was probably the first human to ever cause a Krampus nightmares.

“I can’t believe this. I seriously cannot fucking believe this, Eddie - ”

“Look, baby, I know this looks kind of crazy,” Eddie started slowly, extremely conscious of the way his horns protruded out of his hair, of the soot on his furry legs and the loud clopping sound his cloven hooves made as they tapped nervously on the floor. (He’d never felt bad about how he looked in this form; hell, he even thought he looked kind of hot. Not everyone can pull off the whole “burning-red-eyes-and-weirdly-long-tongue” thing like he could. But now that he found himself caught in Steve’s fiery gaze, he wanted nothing more than to disappear into a tiny ball, to make Steve forget that he’s ever looked like this.) “And I was meaning to tell you, I really was, but - ”

“Oh, really?” Steve scoffed, narrowing his eyes at Eddie even further. “You were meaning to tell me that you were punishing other people, is that what you’re trying to say?”

“ – wouldn’t believe me anyways, I mean, most people don’t believe in Krampus – wait, what?” Eddie cut off as Steve’s words worked their way into his brain. “I – what?”

“You heard me,” Steve scoffed again. “You just forgot to tell me you’re punishing other people? Even though we’ve been exclusive for almost a year? Even though you moved into my house?!”

“I – Steve, wait, it’s not like that - ”

“Oh, really,” Steve repeated himself, “so you didn’t spend Christmas Eve running around and whipping people who aren’t me?”

Eddie shot another look at the guys, all of whom looked as shocked as Eddie felt. (Except for Gareth, that little fucker was grinning like this was the funniest thing he’d ever witnessed.) “Steve, it’s not - ”

“It’s not like what, Eddie? It’s not like you threw a fit the one time someone else tried to Dom me but apparently that doesn’t go both ways! Apparently, I have to share you! You better not be fucking them, Eddie Munson,” Steve seethed, “because I swear to God – ”

“No, no, no! Steve, I wouldn’t, I would never,” Eddie raced out, cautiously stepping closer to his boyfriend. “And it’s not – it’s not like us, okay, it’s literally just punishment and nightmares and stuff. Most of them won’t even remember me tomorrow!”

“Oh, but some will?”

“I – maybe?”

“What Eddie is trying to say,” Jeff saved him by jumping in, “is that this is just a job for us, man. It’s literally just a job. We really don’t get that sort of enjoyment out of it. Hell, most of us aren’t even in the lifestyle outside of this.”

“Yeah, Eddie’s just weird,” Gareth snickered, although he sobered somewhat when Eddie turned to glare at him.

“He loves you, man. He wouldn’t cheat,” Jeff finished. “That’s not what this is.”

Steve huffed, although the crease in his brow had softened somewhat. “You’re really a Krampus, then? And the horns and shit are real?”

“Yeah – yeah, super real, see?” Eddie said, grabbing hold of his horns and yanking them as hard as he could. Ouch. “This is just my Krampus form. I, uh, don’t wear it out all that often.”

“But you have horns.”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie replied nervously.

Steve’s face went through a few emotions before settling on angry. “You mean I could have been holding onto your horns the entire time we’ve been fucking?”

Eddie heard the sound of someone choking loudly behind him, but he didn’t have the brain space to care about that; in fact, the only brain space he had was completely overrun by images of Steve on his back, hands gripped around Eddie’s horns as Eddie drove him further and further into their bed. “I, uh - ”

“Well,” Steve cut off his blabbering with a cold look, “since it’s Christmas Eve and all, I might as well do a little punishing of my own.” He turned on his heel and stomped out of the doorway, pausing briefly to yell back over his shoulder. “You’re sleeping on the couch!”

“BABE!” Eddie whined back, stomping his hoof on the ground. “Until when?!?!”

“Until I say so!” Steve hollered as he disappeared out of view.

“That went well,” Gareth said drily once Steve was out of earshot. The sound of their bedroom door slamming echoed into Eddie’s man-cave and all four Krampus’ winced.

“Yeah, good luck getting out of that one, man,” Phil said, and with a nod he disappeared in a cloud of smoke. Gareth snorted and followed suit, leaving Eddie and Jeff standing alone.

“Honestly, I really think it could have gone worse. You might need to speed up the timeline on that ring, though.” Jeff clapped Eddie on the shoulder. “Unless you have another plan.”

“Oh,” Eddie replied slowly, quietly, a maniacal grin spreading across his face. “I have a plan, all right.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t worry me at all,” Jeff rolled his eyes. “It’s your funeral, man.”

“Mmm,” Eddie hummed, thinking about the brand new switch he’d purchased for Steve – one of his many, many gifts for the man. “At least I’ll die doing what I love.”

“And that is?”

Eddie smirked even wider. “Why, punishing Steve.”

#let me know if you wanna see steve get punished #because I am having some THOUGHTS let me tell you #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #steddie holiday fic

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mhsdatgo · 5 months

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Why you don't like the ship of harwin and rhaenyra? He is the only man in her lifes who treat her kindly and show actual love. All the other, like viserys criston daemon ecc, treat her like shit

Hello, anon. I agree with you about every single man in her life treating Rhaenyra horribly but Harwin is no different.

He's her sworn shield after Criston is called by Alicent's side, her supposed "champion". But the show gave us so little about him that I literally cannot, for the life of me, grasp the love this man gets. All we get of him is that he's basically a glorified boytoy, what Criston would've been had he put Rhaenyra before his honour.

From the books, we know that several sisters of his are Rhae's ladies-in-waiting, his father is the Hand when Otto leaves for a brief period of time and he's generally at court for long before Rhaenyra marries. This makes Harwin the man who watched her grow up, GROW UP. She was a KID when he started buzzing around her or her court.

The first time they interact in the show, it's when Harwin gives her that (nothing short of disgusting other than impressed imo) when she's back to the camp with a boar during Aegon's name day, the second is a year later when he tackles her in the streets, mistaking her for a boy when she's out with Daemon. He lets her go when he spots him. Timeskip happens, we learn that they're lovers and they have three kids together.

Where's the buildup?????? Where's the reason for me to love them as a couple or him as Rhae's partner???? Must we assume he started getting the hots for her when he saw her drenched in blood in that camp? SHE WAS F*CKING 16!

Also, let's not pretend he did anything to help besides warming her bed and making her a mother of 3 before she hit 25. He knew there were rumors, he was pretty much aware of what people thought and what he, Rhae and their kids were risking. Guess what he did about it? Absolutely f*cking nothing.

He didn't marry, he didn't go back to Harrenhall, he acted defensive when his father brought the question up.

Viserys and Alicent sending him away was what it took for him to finally back away from this girl. After, obviously, screwing everything up astronomically. You can go after Criston's bitterness all you want, you can call him jealous (honestly I don't think he is, but that's for another post). But his reaction in the fields is nothing short of ridiculous imo.

What did Criston say? That he was protecting Luke like a father would rather than a trainer. A provocation, a comment that should've flew right in and out of Harwin's ears, if he was as honourable as the fandom makes him out to be. He could've said that it doesn't take being the child's father to notice how callously he's treating him. It could've turned into a meme-worth scene of two men absolutely hating each other's guts but seething right from their asses about not being able to just leap and tear at each other for all they're worth.

What would be wrong? Being called his son's father, great heavens. He could've just went "oh shit" and could've walked away after making sure baby Luke was okay, but what did he did? He handed Criston's ass to him, which was exactly what he wanted.

This man viewed that comment as disrespect to his honor, a stain in his pride. Because being pointed out as a rumored ( not really rumored to him, he knows he is, which just makes it worse) bastard's father is DISGRACEFUL to him. He knows EXACTLY what Rhaenyra, the heir, risks, and does nothing but worsen her position further. If he cared about those kids, or if he was just deluding himself into playing happy family with her, I can't say.

I don't think he hates them, mind you. I'm not here to dehumanize him. They're his own flesh and blood, he loves them, he wishes to love them and be in his life like a father should. I think it's (rightfully) a pain in the ass watching another man raise your children. He could've done it to protect Luke, but it's not his job to remind Criston that insinuating that Rhaenyra has sired bastards is treason. That outburst was unnecessary, at least to me. It did nothing but worsen everything. Knowing Alicent, and how she made Criston apologize for calling Rhae a c*nt with a simple glare, SHE'D scold that rascal good the moment she hears of it.

Harwin would hold back, at the very least, if he actually lived up to TB's standards. For Rhae, Jace, Luke and Joff's sake. I'm not going to act like Rhae is innocent but fuck anyone who thinks she's the only one at fault. She was barely an adult when they started interacting.

BONUS:

*chef's kiss* Unforgettable. As if being from a lower class is the only bad thing there is about the dude you were beating to a pulp just three seconds ago. Although that's less about Harwin and Rhae and more about Harwin but whatever.

#hotd #hotd discussion #hotd discourse #team green #anti harwin strong #anti rhaewin #anon #asks

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eeteernity · 1 year

Text

Gekko x reader

im witting this bc when i was on the gekko x reader tag i was in the top blogs and i felt like an imposter so now i have to write one

cw: fluff

you want an indie boyfriend who skates and introduces you to music, clothes and overall just loves you? Gekko is right there in the corner staring at you in adoration

You were quite new in the protocol, you joined right after neon, so only 2 more people joined after you. You pretty much got along with everyone there, even being tolerated by viper and reyna. (you think reyna only didnt hate your guts because you were a radiant)

though you did like to hang out with neon, raze, jett and phoenix a lot. Those 4 you seemed to mesh really well with, very loud and outgoing people. Which is why it was such a shock when another agent joined.

“Everyone this is gekko, The new guy who will be joining you guys on missions, make sure to treat him well.”

Brim said sternly, while gekko just gave a bit of a goofy wave. It was love at first site.

“he’s so fine omg.”

“i know…”

you and neon whispered to each other. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, he was just so different to most the people here, he looked more relaxed and chill. Sage then took him off to show his room.

“yo (y/n) you should get to know him, he looks so cool.”

neon said with a sly smile.

“honestly I will.”

reyna looked over to you and neon and just rolled her eyes muttering ‘kids’ under her breath before walking away.

you decided to leave him alone for a bit just for him to get settled in. Sitting in the common room you switch through channels trying to find something interesting to watch. However you didn’t have to wait for long to talk to the new guy.

“hey you’re (agent name) right? sage told me your name by the way. im not a stalker or anything!”

he said putting his hands up defensively with a small smile.

“oh hey! yeah I’m (agent name) but you can call me (y/n), I don’t keep my name a secret here. It’s nice to meet you! are you liking it here?”

“yeah it’s super chill, i’m loving the vibe here. my name is mateo by the way”

he says as he sits near you on the couch.

“anything i can help you with? or did you just want to talk to me?”

you say in a teasing tone, causing his cheeks to go slightly pink.

“oh yeah i was actually wondering if you knew any places to eat around here? specifically chinese im really in the mood for that right now! But i also wanted to talk to you!”

he again said defensively.

“oh yeah i know a shit ton. you want me to go with you or just give you directions?”

“oh sí that would be great if you came along, you could help me order!”

“okay let me just go put on some shoes”

you and gekko went off to a near by street that had many food places, on the way you engaged with the usual first meeting talk like ‘how old are you?’ ‘favourite colour?’’where you from’ just the normal stuff. You got to the food place and decided to eat it there instead of takeaway. it was a small place, a family owned business. it was quaint

“so (y/n) what do you plan to get?”

“hmmm i’ll go with this one”

you point to your usual oder on the menu.

“i’ll get that too!”

you and gekko order and just keep talking. its nice, he’s really nice, and chill, and good looking and you’re staring at him again.

“so you wanna tell me about the people we work with? por favour.”

“oh yeah okay so, everyone’s really nice. Maybe not viper and reyna but they’re nice deep down… i think.

“ohhh reyna is actually the one who trains me!”

“really?! that’s cool as. Omen was the one who trained me when i first arrived. but anyway, keep your eardrums safe around raze she can be a bit loud.”

“veo, veo.”

you two keep discussing everyone until your food arrives.

“woah this looks good as, great pick (y/n)!”

“yeah, also i’ll pay for you if you want. I got spare cash”

“really! thats so nice!! gracias!”

eventually you get back, completely stuffed from the food.

“yo (y/n)! Gekko! you’re back. You guys want to watch a movie with me, raze, killjoy, sage, jett and omen?”

neon asked as soon as you walked through the door.

“yeah im down, what about you (y/n)?”

“yeah same! what movie are we watching?”

“a horror! its going to be so fun, just come to the common room when you’re ready.”

neon says before sprinting away. You look over to gekko and see him slightly frozen.

“you scared of horror movies or something?”

gekko nods his head slightly.

“don’t worry you can grab onto my arm if you get scared!”

gekko blushed a little at this.

“haha thank you (y/n)…”

the two of you walk to the common area and the movie starts. Everyone is sat in twos, Killjoy and raze, omen and sage, jett and neon.

the movie starts out well not too many scares but then the first jump scare happens. Making neon and Gekko jump

“oh shit!”

he says as he grabs onto your arm.

“sorry, didn’t mean to grab onto you.”

“its alright mateo-“

“shhhh!”

jett shushes the both of you.

the movie continues. With gekko basically clinging onto you for dear life. so like a good person you rub his back for him to clam down. he shivers at your touch. The movie ends, and killjoy and raze are giggling to themselves about how bad it was. omen and sage thank everyone for watching the movie as they walk to go do their own thing. while jett is comforting neon.

“neon it wasn’t that bad!”

“yes it was jett! what if that weird thing is going to come for me!!”

“come on lets go get you some water…”

which leaves you and gekko alone.

“you feeling alright?”

you ask him concerned.

“yep… yep. i’m alright. Man how do you not get scared?!”

you just shrug your shoulders.

“anyway i’m going to get ready for bed. If you get scared i don’t mind you waking me up or anything. I’m here for you.”

“okay, thanks for spending the day with me (y/n) it was really nice to get to know you!”

you leave.

He’s so cool..

i really like her..

OKAY THATS THE ENDING I MIGHT CONTINUE IT WHO KNOWS BUT I JUST WANTED TO GET THIS OUT. SORRY IF IT’S BAD I DIDN’T REALLY KNOW WHERE IT WAS GOING

#gekko #gekko x reader #valorant #valorant x y/n #valorant x reader #gekko x y/n #x reader #fluff #mateo #mateo x reader

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itstheghostofmypast · 2 years

Text

Love is like Fire

Five x F.Reader (Pyrokinesis)

H.C - lowkey story like

Powers: Pyrokinesis

Codename: Arson

Summary: Love, a word that held little meaning for him, a word that would disgust him. Love, a word that would haunt her, remind her of the purity that was stolen from her, replaced by the of gift sent from Hell. Love, a word that had ignited a new flame within him. Love, a word that had her burning with passion at the thought of him. Love, that had taught both the meaning of 'forever', the fragility of morality and chaos.

Genre: Angst/Fluff

WARNINGS: Suicidal thoughts, mention of domestic violence, child abuse, human trafficking, self-hate, murder to some extent (yeah, i was on a roll)

Requested by: @madelynmulford (okay, so I know you gave a simple request, but I kinda went ahead and added a bit too much- I'm so sorry and I hope you like it (」ﾟﾛﾟ)｣ )

Love, what is love? Great minds from all over the world, for centuries, have pondered upon the true, exact meaning of this horrid abstract presence- one that can be considered as a feeling, a gesture, or even a physical act. More importantly, what is considered love? What is the most accurate and favored form of love? A mother's love, one that is deemed to be unconditional and eternal, or a father's love, is often categorized as tough love, one that raises his children as warriors. Or perhaps the love of a soul mate claimed to be as gentle as the morning breeze, soft as dandelions, and pure as an angel's kiss. To Five Hagreeves, all that was bullshit. A mother who sold him, a father that just trained him as a soldier, and no matter how much he claimed to love Delores, at the back of his mind, he knew she was only with him because he was the last man alive. So to him, love was a complicated subject, and all the branches attached to it.

Which is why, when he first met her, he had no clue as to why he felt like he was on fire- well, at that moment he was literally on fire as well.

He wasn't supposed to be doing that alone tonight. This was a military base he was sent to and the 25-year-old was told by the Handler that he'd have assistance but at the moment, he was blinking around the base, avoiding as many bullets as he could, praying he didn't run out of juice. Unfortunately, blinking into a dead end was not how he thought he'd end up dying, frankly, he thought he'd go back in time, and f*** up the timeline a few times with his siblings- either dying in the process of actually living a decent life.

"In my defense, I'm not really American." He said raising his hands, as all guns were aimed at him, "Ah shit-"

Several clicks were heard as they aimed, ready to fire, but as they were about to, the tips of their guns began to burn orange for a split second before melting. Confused, the guards exchanged a look before they heard someone scream, a guard had caught fire, followed by another, then another and in a matter of minutes, the entire fleet was on fire. Their horrifying screams echoed across the base. One of them pounced on Five as he blinked away, out of the building and into the parking lot, surrounded by tanks.

"What the f***-"

"Your shoulder is on fire."

"What? SHIT" patting away the fire he stared at the burnt hole in his coat, examining the damage.

"Wanna see something cool?"

He turned to finally look at the person, she was sitting on top of the tanks, staring at the buildings of the base with a look in her eyes- he'd seen that look before. A shiver ran down his spine as he blinked her in, a woman radiating an ethereal presence, one that poured out strength....and violence. She wasn't wearing the usual commission uniform either, no, in fact, she was dressed in all black. A stealth suit- who was this woman and why did she make his palms all sweaty? Suddenly a deafening screech rang across the field, causing him to cover his ears as one by one, each building exploded, the raging fire eating the concrete jungle before them. He heard her chuckle, eyes wide as he stared at the amusement in her eyes, she was enjoying this, the act of burning everything to ashes, the screams of pain and- MOTHER F***ER

"The FILE IS STILL INSIDE"

"WHAT." Her head whipped in his direction, another boom echoing in the back, "THE HELL WERE YOU DOING IN THEIR FOR THE PAST THREE HOURS''

"TRYING NOT TO DIE- YOU'VE BEEN HERE FOR THREE HOURS AND DIDN'T COME INSIDE TO HELP ME???"

That is how the two first met, the first mission the two had together- screwing it up perfectly. Hence, the two stood in front of the Handler who sighed, staring at the two,

"I know her tendencies but you, Five, darling I thought you were better than this"

"She didn't show up on time- in fact, she almost killed me in the process too!!

"Is that right Arson?"

"N-ye-maybe"

Taking a deep breath, the blonde looked at the girl then at Five, "Tell you what, from now on, both of you will be partners. Learn each other's strengths and weaknesses and make it work. I have high expectations from both of you- do not let me down."

"But-"

"No buts Arson, your track record is declining and your previous partner left some complaint in HR- we need to fix that, understood?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Good girl, now here's another file, I expect both of you to handle this one properly."

Therefore, Five decided to be civil, for two reasons, firstly because the Handler had demanded them to do so and he didn't want to ruin his end of the bargain and secondly, this tug deep within his shrunken, dried-out heart forced him to look past the recent catastrophic events of mass homicide- at least try to.

"You can go through it first." he offers.

"I will." she muttered quickly skimming through the file and closing it, "Here." she offered it to him.

"Thanks", reaching for it, with a surprised expression, not expecting her to be so normal, his fingers were an inch away from the file before it caught fire. Hissing from the heat that barely scraped his fingertips he glared at her.

"oops~"

To say that the two got off on the right foot would be plain stupid. He didn't like her- no he loathed her, in fact, he believed (and told the Handler several times) that this little burnt-out lighter should be behind bars, or even better PUT OUT. He never understood why the Handler didn't do anything. This woman- or as everyone called her Arson was completely chaotic, destructive, and a sociopath. Not to mention she was OUT OF CONTROL. It was incredibly difficult to do anything with her, even a simple conversation would break into an argument. For example, when they exchanged immediate personal information, such as their names;

"Five Hargreeves"

"Arson."

"Is that actually your name?"

"No, but there is no need to tell disposable people my name."

"I'm sorry, but last I checked, all of us were disposable."

"Apology accepted, but you were wrong, though I wouldn't worry about it, you won't be staying too long anyway."

"Come again, flamethrower?"

"What.did.you.call.me?"

Let's be real, it's not like she wanted a partner it is very true that the night at the base, she was about to kill him too. She'd just say he turned into collateral damage and that was that, but she didn't know he could...blink. Was the Handler collecting beings like her now? Anyway, if this was their boss' pathetic attempt at taming her, she was a fool- she'd burn this dude to a crisp in a matter of days. Or so she thought she would.

Five was no idiot, he didn't like her, that much was evident, but he wasn't egotistical enough to call her useless. No, she was the exact opposite. She was a genius, she knew what she was doing and how to do it. The way her eyes would calculate the area and presence around them before battle, often mumbling about how the weather would affect her powers- the drier the weather the better it was for her. Often he would spot a book in her hand, literature of old age, literature of a variety of languages, which is why when she spoke in fluent Russian during a mission he wasn't surprised- especially when she looked at him with that shit-eating grin as if taunting it. He just shrugged in response though, he had long figured out she could speak more than one language. Unfortunately, all that brain was useless when it came down to the concept of 'morality and boundaries.' For even though she looked like an angel, the demon inside her burning soul spoke in volumes that could put hell to shame. It would haunt him, the killings, he'd get up at the dead of the night, drenched in a cold sweat, heart pounding against his rib cage but her, no, he'd never seen her flinch while she was awake, let alone have nightmares at night. He had seen her torture, purely for fun- especially men. Most of the time, their missions were simple in and out, but for some reason, as they would be leaving, the screams of men on fire would be bouncing around behind them.

He bothered her, he really did. She knew he'd complain to the Handler about her, but he'd never quit being her partner. It was aggravating. She had not been partnered up in so long, let alone FOR so long as well. It had been 2 years and he'd been putting up with her- what was more surprising though is that he never really 'insulted her . She knew she was a monster, one that was sent from hell itself, yet, there were the briefest moments where he'd say these things and just leave her with her thoughts- she would know that he was upset, but he wouldn't take it out on her. Just leave for a while, the next morning he'd get up as if nothing happened.

"Must you do that every time?"

"Do what?"

"Set people on fire? For God's sake Arson, that wasn't even needed."

"Why are your panties in a knot, you got feelings for them or something-"

"No. But I see no need for murdering people for fun."

"Who said it's fun?"

"Whatever it's worth Arson, I think you don't know why you do it too." with that he blinked out of the car, leaving her sitting alone with herself.

He was right. She didn't know. She was Arson, and setting things on fire was her job. Her powers, this curse, was all she had, all she was, and never in a million years have fire or anything related ever been described as anything but demonic or hell sent. This was who they wanted her to be, what they said she'd turn into, so why was this wrong?

Love, disgusting thing ain't it? Hell, he still wasn't sure if it was love, but when he'd look at her, sitting in the car as he blinked out, he felt an unsettling mixture of emotions settle in the pit of his stomach. He knew he wasn't wrong, she was out of control. There is a difference between being chaotic-good and just plain messed up and right now, she was borderline messed up. What bothered him the most was the most important question, why did he care? Why did he care about her wellbeing, how she felt, how her choices reflected her- none of that was his business. Hell, he didn't even know her real name, yet, for some reason, for the past whole year, he had been trying to figure her out, to peel away the layers- he knew, his gut told him, there was more to what she was, more to all this fire and destruction. Maybe it was because of her powers, the fact that she had powers too, just like him, made him feel a bit better about himself, less lonely. She was the first person he had seen in years who didn't gawk at him in awe when he blinked, someone who wasn't scared of him either- she looked him dead in the eye. He wanted to talk to her, for some reason he felt like that may solve this a bit, but he was no conversationalist, nor was she- moreover, he was sure she couldn't care less about him.

Well, at least that's what he thought- to some extent she thought the same, you know, not caring about him. Unfortunately, the little blue bird in her cage felt differently. One of the blessings of having her powers was that in winter- she was a human heater. The cold never bothered her, she'd rid of her stealth suit as well. Ironically, she'd switch to what Five later described as - the Deigo outfit- a leather jacket, covering a basic white tank top, a pair of faded jeans, and combat boots. Now, to any sane person, she looked like a lunatic, especially when they were sent to Alaska, during the harsh winters.

Five had seen the winter through the apocalypse, one of the worst kinds, but recently, he had decided that this was the worst kind of winter he had ever had the pleasure to deal with. Not only was it cold, but they got ambushed, the temperature had affected his ability to blink and they were lost in a blizzard. What was more surprising throughout the entire thing, she had stayed in control she was keeping her destruction in check ever since he confronted her in the car- almost two years ago. See, he knew there was a little morality within her.

"I can see a building nearby."

"What if there are people there-"

"Five, that place is busted up and it's freezing here, I assure you, it's abandoned."

That is how the two ended up inside the abandoned building. She was searching for something to burn while he was looking for something to wrap himself up with, unfortunately, there was nothing there. The place was an abandoned lab, almost empty, minus a few tables and chairs- empty vials and shattered glass on the floor. He hissed as the freezing sensation begin to take over his body, at this point, he couldn't even feel his fingers anymore, the tips blue- shit. She came back into the room, closing the door behind her, holding a pile of papers she had found, they were wet, but she could easily burn them. Turning to look for him, she paused, until she noticed him on the floor, shivering in a fetal position.

"Shit- FIVE" running to him, she placed the papers beside him, setting them on fire. She took off her jacket, placing it over his shoulders as he pushed it away, mumbling; "No...you'll get co-oh-old" he shivered.

"Shut up man." she snapped back, her jacket was small for him, naturally. Nonetheless, she pulled it closer, rubbing her hands together, then taking a deep breath, "I have an idea...but...I...tell me if it gets too warm okay?" she muttered, dragging him to a corner as she sat him down first. He could only groan in response, too fazed out. She sat beside him, pulling him closer, wrapping her arms around him as she hugged him close. His face buried in her shoulder, she took a deep breath before closing her eyes, "Five...I need you to live through this okay? Just...just focus on my voice." When she got no response she shook him-violently- earning a, "yes... please you're warm." He snuggled closer to her, wrapping his arms around her frame, laying there, semi on top of her, as his cheek pressed against the exposed skin of her neck. He was almost asleep- his body going in and out of consciousness until he heard her, she was reciting a poem. He knew that poem;

"There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out but I'm too tough for him,

I say, stay in there, I'm not going to let anybody see you."

"Ch-Charles B-Bukowski" he whispered, earning a chuckle from her, it was beautiful. Not once in these years of knowing her, had he heard her. "Shhh...just don't fall asleep okay? I need to concentrate, otherwise, I may potentially burn you."

there's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I pour whiskey on him and inhale cigarette smoke

and the whores and the bartenders and the grocery clerks never know that

he's in there.

He could feel her body warm up, the numbness from his body slowly fading, allowing his mind to work in overdrive- the usual way it did. If he could warm up just a bit more, he could blink the two out of there, possibly to someplace warmer. He wanted to tell her this, but he wanted to listen to her as well, this was slowly starting to make sense to him.

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I'm too tough for him, I say stay down, do you want to mess me up?

You want to screw up the works?

You want to blow my book sales in Europe?

She pulled him closer, honestly so lost in the moment that she didn't notice him looking up at her. How her breath was shaky and her lip was quivering. He had never seen her so vulnerable. There was much more to this woman and he knew it- and he was right to.

There's a bluebird in my heart that wants to get out

but I'm too clever, I only let him out at night sometimes when everybody's asleep.

I say I know that you're there, so don't be sad.

Her breath hitched, eyes clenching harder as she let out a small whimper. Five slowly sat up, pulling her closer, in an actual embrace, his chin placed on top of her head, as she let out a muffled sob. He was glad how well she was controlling her powers because Handler had warned him about how she would lose control of them whenever she was emotional. He waited for a moment, to check if she would finish the poem, but her silent crying against his chest told him otherwise. He felt better now, warmer, enough to get them out of this shit hole. Taking a deep breath he whispered to her,

then I put him back, but he's singing a little

in there, I haven't quite let him die and we sleep together like that

with our secret pact and it's nice enough to make a man weep,

but I don't weep, do you?

With that, he blinked them out of there, into the last motel they had checked into. She had not realized they were in a different place, but then again she was drained, more importantly, she was staring up at him in awe. Watching how his lips would move, pouring out each word of Bukowski's BlueBird with such grace. It only occurred to her that they had blinked when the dim lights of the room illuminated his angular face, casting shadows to make him look even more handsome than he already was. That was it, with that she groaned, falling onto the bed, eyes slowly closing as he got off the bed- honestly, he hadn't thought of blinking right onto the bed, but maybe his tired brain had thought of it. He pulled her shoes off, tucking her in, only for her to whine in her sleep and toss the blankets off her, turning to the other side - the cooler side of the bed. That's when he noticed something on her back, her tank top, and rode up due to her movements, revealing a good portion of her back. He knew he wasn't supposed to, it was wrong and disrespectful, but the tattoo peeking out forced him- curiosity to get the better of him. Making sure to cover her front with the sheets, his fingers reached for the hem of the material, slowly pushing it upwards, exposing her back, his fingertips brushing against her warm skin. His breath hitched at the sight of what was tattooed between her shoulder blades, a fire poppy. With a heavy sigh, he adjusted her attire, fixing it properly and tucking her in once more- there was so much more to her, each piece he discovered would make him feel as if he was punched in the heart- was this....love?

Naturally, the next morning he never brought up the tattoo, knowing she'd burn him to bits, especially when he realized she never mentioned the poem either- or the fact that she was crying the entire time. She was back to her a**hole routine, much to his displeasure.

"Man, could you have brought us to a hotter place???"

"It's not that hot, Arson"

"Yeah, says the guy whose balls freeze at the slightest of breeze."

"Nice to see you're doing much better-"

"Mention last night again and I'll kill you."

"But I like Charles Bukowski too-"

"NEVER AGAIN."

So yes, Charles Bukowski, the Bluebird, or even the tattoo were never mentioned again. For a very, very long time. The only change that had occurred after that night was that she was slightly more open, when it came down to trivial conversation, while Five. Oh, well that man was in a pickle, for he had developed a new trait when he was around her- possessiveness. When they'd be on a mission, he'd be sending death glares to anyone looking at her, when she'd be in a fight, his attention would be on her, blinking around her, keeping enemies away from her- she didn't notice though. Or at least he thought she didn't. She did though. She noticed everything, how he would watch her every move, how he would be gentle with her. When he'd get himself a coffee in the morning, he'd get her something cool to drink, often a fresh juice, claiming it was healthy. He bought her a new leather jacket, even though she told him not to,

"No."

"I owe it to you."

"You can pay back by SHUTTING UP IM BUSY"

"Are you going to set something on fire?"

"Five, please, I haven't in so long and that man looks like a creep, look at how he's staring at those kids and I just-"

"You realise you can just go punch him."

"The smell of ashes is bette- and he just grabbed that kid great. THANKS, A LOT"

It's safe to say that Five managed to blink there, grab the kid and blink away before the man was mysteriously set on fire- a fire that could not be put out even by water.

"Feeling better?"

"Much...we should do this more often."

Things rolled like this for some time, usually, he'd be cleaning up her mess or at least making sure she didn't cross any boundaries, in return, she would only become 'destructive' when he would deem fit, not that she minded it- he was violent, she knew it, but then again, he was Five. The Handler's new favorite, the commission's best member. For her though, he was slowly becoming something very important, something she could cling on to, something permanent- someone permanent, someone who cares. Though she would remind herself, again and again, how that was what she WISHED he was, for just how everyone thought she was a monster, he did the same, only instead of being scared, he was trying to tame her. Or so she'd tell herself, the bluebird could stay in that cage of fire, or she'd burn it.

He began to make it difficult for her though, other than his usual protectiveness, he would sometimes just sit with her in silence, watching people go by. He'd play a tune, and lower the volume enough so it was only a faint whisper in their ears. On one particular occasion, 1st October, the most horrid day of her life- her birthday-, they were sitting in the car, they were done with their mission. So now, they were parked in a drive-in restaurant, waiting for whatever Five had ordered for them.

'Here, I got you something for your birthday" he spoke up out of the blue, handing her a wrapped object

"Oh..." She looked at the rectangular object, wrapped in shiny...blue paper- it was the same color you'd see when he'd blink. Around the paper was a red ribbon, tied up into a pretty bow. "I...ehem.. thanks but I didn't get you anything."

He shrugged staring ahead at the waiters on roller skates, "don't need to..."

He watched her eagerly rip it open, fingers hapting as she whispered to herself, "no way..."

"Open it." He urged her, waiting for her to see what was inside.

Flipping open the book she read on the first page, it was a note, from Charles Bukowski addressed to her, "To dear Arson, interesting choice of name. May the fire within your keep you forever warm." Her fingers traced the ink, staring at the paper, not only did he get her an original "The Last Night Of The Earth Poems" but he got it signed too.

"Do you like it, Arson?' he whispered, leaning to look at her expressions as she turned away, facing the window. He heard her sniff as he chuckled, reaching for her hand, giving it a light squeeze.

Clearing her throat she wiped her eyes with her free hand, before facing him. "It's Y/N"

His grip tightened on her hand, moving closer as he stared at her, "What was that?"

"My name...it's Y/N".

"It's...beautiful..."

This was it, he was finally getting to know her, his heart was beating like crazy, her hand warm in his ears ringing as he admired her beauty, leaning closer to her. He didn't know what he was doing, but his body was reacting on its own, eyes closing, that is until she gasped, accidentally slapping him- "FOR GOD'S SAKE ARSON". Well, he misread the situation.

"I know what to give you as a gift."

"What?"

"I won't use my powers for three missions."

"....so no burning?"

"Well, I can see how you always almost piss yourself when I seem to be punishing evil people-"

"...because being the lawyer, judge and executioner is -"

"Yes, yes, wrong we've had this discussion before BUT ONLY 3."

"Who knows Arson- Y/N, you might even like it, hand to hand combat is much more cathartic."

He was right, it was tiring, but it felt so much better. The crunch of someone's bone under your knuckles felt good- though when she told Five this he responded with a chuckle and an "as long as its bad guys."

They made a routine out of this, she'd only use her powers when necessary, and he'd cover her when needed- which was apparently more than often. Yes, she did notice, but never said anything, for some reason, knowing someone cared about her made her feel a bit...less angry. She began to feel this way once she told him her name, it felt sweet and tingly, every time he'd use it when they were alone, even when he'd ask her the simplest of things, like what she wanted to eat. Five didn't mind the rate of this progress, he knew she was opening up to him, and frankly speaking, he was more concerned about her well-being most of the time to care about whether she loved him or not. Ironically, he was overprotective of her, the urge to be around her all the time was irritably strong. He wanted to go back to his family as well, but the math was still off and he wanted to know if he could take her- it's not like anyone appreciated her here. But would she want to or rather how long would it take her to let him in?

It was supposed to be a simple mission, go in, get a file and not kill anyone in the process- okay, so not killing anyone was difficult for both Y/N and Five. Though she had avoided burning anyone to death, they were outnumbered. Five had blinked ahead, while she was supposed to be the distraction. Five had made sure to hurry up, because as much as he trusted her ability to defend herself, the last thing he'd want is for her to get hurt because of him- especially when they weren't allowed to kill anyone here.

She was doing fine, in fact, she had managed to bust up more than a dozen men who had come at her, everything was fine until a familiar face caught her eye. She had seen that man before, who was running towards her with a bat. Frozen in place, her breath hitched, her brain switching off at the sight of the attacker. She had seen that necklace before, that face, she knew him- Five blinked back to where he had left her, file in hand, he was about to call her out when he heard a loud thump, only to see her falling to the ground, being tackled down by a man. He was about to blink to her before she reacted, her hand on fire, colliding with the man's face who hissed in pain. He fell backward, holding onto his face, staring at her as she stood up, slowly approaching him.

"Shit." Five hissed, blinking to her only to blink away when her whole body lit up on fire. "ARSON SNAP OUT OF IT!"

"You filthy swine!" she hissed, "How much do you think I'm worth now?!" her hand extended forward, aiming for him as the man begged her for his life.

"NO!" Five blinked in front of him, staring at her, "Y/N listen to me, okay? Our instructions are clear-"

"MOVE OR DIE!"

"THEN DO IT!" he glared back at her, turning his head to stare at the man with now a burnt cheek, "Get out of here, NOW!" with a curse the man ran away leaving-

"NO!" she screeched aiming for him again but Five got in the way, shaking his head, "Y/N, please! Listen to me! This isn't right-"

"FIVE MOVE OR HE'LL DO IT AGAIN!"

"Whatever it is we can't mess with it!" he yelled back moving closer to her, hissing at the heat radiating off her ablaze body. He extended his hand, reaching for hers, "Don't be the monster they want you to be" he yelled before grabbing her hand, waiting for the burning sensation, but it never came. Her body was normal again, skin warm against his. sighing in relief he pulled her closer, hugging her as he kissed the top of her head, "Let's go - NO" he blinked away. It all happened in a split second, one moment he was holding her, and the next he was gone. She whipped around at the sound of a gunshot, he had blinked behind her, protecting her. Panicked she grabbed onto his falling form, looking at him as he hissed in pain, eyes trailing down to the blood on his shirt, the stain growing larger by the second.

"Shit- f*** Five, WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?" she yelled at him before looking at the man who had fired the shot, "YOU-"

"Y/N" he coughed, gripping onto her arm, "I'm blinking us out of here." he groaned, not waiting for a response as he blinked them away, safe in their motel room. He blinked up at her slowly, eyes growing heavy as he chuckled, "Are you...crying?"

"Shut up" she hissed, pressing a hand to his wound, "I'll fix you up- I- don't die on me okay," she said trying to get up but he kept her still, hand on her arm, his breathing shallow. "Wait, Y/N, you need to know that I-I love you." he groaned before blacking out.

His eyes snapped at the loud boom, sitting up only to wince and fall back on the bed- oh shit, they were back at the motel, and- holy shit did he survive? Pulling up the blankets he saw that he was wrapped up, pretty professionally too. Glancing around the room his eyes landed on her sleeping form, seated in the chair beside him, brows furrowed. Slowly reaching for her hand, he winced when she slapped his hand, staring up at her he gulped, "Hey-"

"No. No hey, nothing. How dare you say something like that and almost die?"

"Actually, I thought I was dead, you patched me up well."

"I didn't have a partner for a long time, so I had to learn to do it."

"Y/N about what I said-"

"Forget it. I don't love you."

Her words stung, his heart felt like it was being squeezed tight, "You don't love me...or you don't want to admit it-"

"I am unworthy of such things. Are you blind?? Don't you see Five? I'm a monster! I'm not like you! I have no code of conduct, no morals- I almost killed you!" she cut him off, about to stand up only for him to grab her wrist and pull her back down.

"But you didn't! You aren't a monster Y/N! F*** I'd love you even if you were"

"DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT LOVE IS?"

He stared at her, grip tightening around her wrist, he knew she could tell he had no clue about it, hell, he didn't even know if what he felt was love, but he knew he wasn't letting her go.

"Five..." she whispered, leaning closer, her words soft, "Love...is for the pure, for the worthy, I am neither. If you knew anything about me, you'd kill me yourself-"

"Then tell me." he spat, pushing away the sheets, glaring at her, "I don't know a damn thing about you, yet, here I am all putty in your hands- You think I like feeling this weak, woman? I give you my all and you just push me away, what do you think I am?" he seethed through gritted teeth, inches away from her face, "Do you think I'm some kind of saint? I've done shit you can't even begin to imagine. I don't enjoy feeling this way Y/N, I don't have to protect you but I do because I want to... I don't know why, and just like why you don't know why you like burning people to death, you don't know why you shouldn't let me love you. You think you're filthy and a beast, well let me break it to you, you have no idea" he whispered, "what a monster is.`` With that he let go of her as soon as he noticed the fear in her eyes, "I-I'm sorry I just..." he trailed off staring at the wall behind her, maybe he was mad at her. For once, hearing her reject him so openly and bluntly was not something he expected or rather was not something he was ready for.

"I'm...sorry," she whispered, his eyes darting to her face, her orbs fixated on her hands as she sat back down in the chair beside his bed. "I...I don't tell you anything because...I don't want you to leave." she whispered, biting her lip to hold back a sob.

"You've tried to kill me several times, Y/N." he stated bluntly laying back down as he stared at the ceiling, "You don't have to talk about it, I understand you don't feel the same way-"

"That man, the one you saved..3 years from now, he's going to buy a little girl from a horrible excuse of a father and put her up for auction."

Head whipping in her direction, he stared at her wide-eyed, letting out a shaky, "W-what?"

"I...This girl was born on 1st October 1989, to a poor couple who could not conceive. With an abusive husband, the wife would often be the victim of his abuse, before their child's birth. Once, the child was born, things got worse between the two, neither could...have a child, yet, here she was, their baby girl. The wife thanked every entity possible for this miracle but the husband, no, he hated the birthed creature...called it...satan's unwanted child. He wasn't wrong though, they soon discovered the child had powers of the sort- a curse as the husband named it. Fire. She could set things on fire, her whole body could light up ablaze and she'd be alright. In winters, her body would grow warmer, but the wife didn't care, she l-loved her daughter. Like nothing she had loved before, she'd protect her child from everything, the world, the evil spirits, and her husband. Whenever he'd bea- punish his wife, she'd tell her daughter to cover her ears and close her eyes, count to 100 and it'll be okay. It would, every time she'd open her eyes after counting...things would be back to normal, she'd see her mother smile at her and the husband wouldn't be there anymore." She sighed, staring at her hands, ashamed to look at him, "One night though...she... she opened her eyes before she could reach a hundred and she saw what he was doing to her...she doesn't remember much after that, only the sound of her mother screaming in pain. She woke up to find the ashes of everything around her- her whole world lost...her mother, the only person to see him as a human, the only person to love her, her world, the only person fighting this war for her...lost. Next thing she knows, she is at an orphanage..." she stopped to look at him, wondering if he was still listening, meeting his emerald orbs, swirling with emotion.

"Then?"

"The place was a front...it was a brothel or something run by the headmaster...the girl was different though, she was the headmaster's favorite." Five wasn't sure how or why, but once again he felt this fire ignite, reaching for her hand, gently clasping it in his as he looked at her to continue, "One day, there comes a man, I don- the girl didn't know what he wanted but she heard him argue with the headmaster, then he came in her room telling her how he owned her now. Next thing she knows she's in a cage, on a stage, surrounded by these people- monsters- they were yelling number and" her breath hitched, gipping his hand as her words caught her throat, clenching her eyes shut as she leaned forward, resting her forehead against the hand that was holding onto hers.

"Was it the same man as today?"

"Y-yes...she did it again though when he pulled her out of the cage she ...lost control, blacked out and woke up to a lady standing in front of her...offering her a job. She told her she'd give her a new life, a new identity and she took it."

There was silence after that, neither knew what to say for a while. He watched her silently weep, holding onto his hand, he wondered what it would've been like if his father had adopted her too. Maybe she'd be different, happier, safer, less broken- not saying that his childhood was any better, but compared to what she had just told him, it was a f***ing blessing. After almost an hour of crying she slowly sat up, staring at their hands, "Please...Five, I'm okay as Arson- a monster-, that's who I am and who I'll be forever."

"You're not, you're Y/N, the strongest person I have ever met. You're no monster, I've never seen you kill an innocent person in our time together- you may have a f***ed up sense of execution, but it isn't wrong...sometimes, it's okay to not see the grey between the black and white." He smiled at her, bringing her hand to his lips, kissing it gently, "I'm not asking you to love me, I just need you to know you're are worth so much more than you think- and I'll take a bullet for you over and over again-"

"Please don't do that again, if you hadn't blinked us out I'm pretty sure I would've burned everything to the ground, you included."

"Understood...I have...one more question, what does the fire poppy represent, the one um.." averting his gaze he cleared his throat, "On your back."

"I won't ask how you know that, but my mother used to call me a fire poppy, and then...poppies represent remembrance...and she was my world."

"Oh." was all he said before sighing as he closed his eyes, "Y/N, I know you don't love me, but I think I'm f***ed."

"Why?" she asked, averting her gaze from her lap when she didn't get a response, only to find him asleep, still holding onto her hand. For the first time in a long while, she had felt something, she felt loved. Staring at their hands for a moment, she leaned closer to him, thinking for a moment before placing a soft kiss on his lips, whispering, "You never let me say I love you too."

Naturally, the next morning when he woke up, he found her curled up next to him, holding onto him for her dear life. He wanted to wake her up, but stopped when her eyes met his, "Morning sleepy head, did you enjoy kissing me while I was asleep?" Instantly pulling away- falling off the bed with a loud thud- she stared up at him, face flushed, "y-you were awake??" The only response she received was the sound of his laughter, making her blush harder.

The two were considered a couple, not that anyone in the commission knew. No one in their right mind could imagine the horrid Arson to be so human and for Five to like someone like her. The Handler didn't care, she was getting results and her plan of taming Arson was going well, what she didn't know was the Five had no plans of letting anyone use or manipulate his little firecracker anymore.

To say they were an ideal couple would be a bit far-fetched, most of the time, they'd be arguing- as usual. Though Five never cared about it, he enjoyed seeing her all angry, it made him feel like she cared- which she did, don't get him wrong, but the way she'd turn all red and whine when she was angry was adorable.

"Five."

"Yes?"

"Where's my cola?"

"Orange juice is better and healthier."

"But I DON'T WANT ORANGE JUICE"

Nonetheless, he would often be her moral compass as well, though she would claim to be his 'moral compass.' Usually, when they'd be on missions, he'd be stopping her from committing arson for fun- even if the base belonged to bad guys, and she'd be stopping him from becoming more violent when his overprotectiveness would kick in. He'd make it a habit to calculate whether it would be okay to kill certain people if they were irrelevant to the timeline but had managed to hurt her during a mission and then he'd go after them.

"Why are you covered in blood????"

"Don't worry, it's not mine."

"HOW IS THAT BETTER FIVE?"

"Remember that group of guys that got away when you got shot and I blinked us out?"

"yeah..."

"Well, I happened to bump into those a**holes and taught them a lesson."

"...Five you went out to get dinner."

"Shit."

When he told her about traveling back to stop the apocalypse she just shrugged, saying she'd be okay with whatever it was, as long as it was with him. Honestly, it wasn't any of her business, rules, codes, the math, all that shit didn't matter to her anyway, even before she had realized how she felt about him, and clearly, that wasn't going to change. All she needed was him, and everything would be okay.

At forty, the two had decided to tie the knot in secret, she never wanted anything flashy- frankly, when he proposed to her she set the magazine she was holding on fire.

"I'll take that as a yes."

But when it came down to traveling back in time, he wasn't sure if he should take her anymore. Not because he didn't trust her, but over the years he had learned that deep inside she was nothing more than a fragile little girl, one that was naive enough to trust the world over and over again. More importantly, he was well aware of his impulsive and violent tendencies when his overprotectiveness would kick in like a bull all he'd see is red. It was destructive, to say the least. It's not like he didn't enjoy her company, he did, being together uncovered a whole new side of her, a side of Y/N, one that wasn't Arson. Sure, she was still snappy and an a**, but that came along with the package, a bundle, a girl who would stay up all night with him, while he'd be working on the math. Making him coffee out of the blue, he never asked her to, even when he was craving it, she just knew. Another thing about her that made his heart beat like crazy was her sudden impulsive streaks of affection, he'd be sitting and reading in silence only for her to slam open the door and run to him, smothering his face with kisses then walk away as nothing had happened. He'd be making breakfast only to feel her wrap her arms around his waist, pressing her face on his back, muttering nonsense about a weird dream. She was no saint, but she had become the warmth of his life, the kindling fire of his joy. For someone who could speak multiple languages and had command of most literature of the century, she had her...as he'd call it, Diego moments.

"I can fry an egg in my hand."

"...we could use the stove-"

"Nonsense, observe."

"...was burning it part of the process-"

"Shut up the egg was bad. Oh, I'll toast the toast-"

"Please stop acting like a kitchen appliance."

"Funny how you don't say that when I warm up your coffee or your di-"

"OKAY THEN."

Due to these very specific reasons, he made up his mind as he looked at his beautiful wife, who had aged gracefully, asleep on her side of the bed. He was not going to take her. He knew he had promised to stay with her but the risk of putting her in any kind of danger would kill him. This is why he left her a sweet note, thanking her for spending her life with him, for loving him back, and how he was not going to risk the love of his for personal reasons. He told her he'd come back for her- if he lived through this. So he took a deep breath and jumped into the portal.

"Shit" he looked at his hands at his siblings who were still looking up at the portal, wair what- he looked up to

*Thump*

He opened his eyes to find her sitting on top of him, "I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU? SWEET LITTLE ANGEL?" Gripping him by the collar she glared down at him, "YOU THINK I NEED YOU TO SAVE MY A- " she paused, staring at his face then quickly getting off him and looking at her own hands and legs- "WHAT THE F*** FIVE?"

In the kitchen, the siblings were more terrified than confused by the way the two children in front of them were communicating. He was slapping things onto the table arguing with her as she sat there cross-legged, arms folded over her chest snapping back.

"Why did you follow me?" He seethed.

"Because you're stupid."

"Woman. How do I keep you safe if YOU FOLLOWED ME"

"OH AND leaving me in Dallas was a great idea- " she stopped to grab the slices of bread, toasting them with her hands and putting them back on the plate where he was smothering them with peanut butter.

"Number Five-"

"Just a minute Luther, I have to deal with this one first." He snapped at him and then turned to glare at her, "Just because I chose to dive into a volcano doesn't mean you do too"

"BITCH I WOULD THRIVE IN LAVA!

"NUMBER 5"

"WHAT LUTHER?"

Needless to say during the entire exchange with his siblings, she chose to stay out of it, eating quietly and then looking around the place, nice place, a weird arrangement but pretty chill actually, it was cold, and she liked it.

"And this is my wife. Arson."

"Is your name really Arson?" Diego asked from the back, only to get snubbed by Five.

"No, but you don't need to know her actual name."

"Hey, one more question for the senior citizens," Klaus raised his hand, "Did you just use your hands as a toaster?"

"Yeh- Fire powers, heat, flames, lava, anything related."

"Nice."

"Well, time to go." with that he grabbed her hand and blinked them to his room. Only to turn around and frown at her, "I was serious about not following me, this is dangerous Y/N and I'm not gonna risk losing you or letting you get hurt-"

"Five, you can't wrap me up in bubble wrap." she muttered sitting on the bed and looking around, "Man, what kind of nerd has chalkboards for walls?"

He turned around to look at her, smiling at him, swinging her legs off the bed, knowing full well he couldn't stay mad at her for too long. "Just don't do anything reckless."

"Please, I never have".

As the days went by the siblings were very much disturbed by the way the couple worked, most of the time they'd see their brother losing his mind while she'd be casually looking around. Naturally, they assumed it was him who loved her more than the other way around, especially when Luther and Diego fought, the others noticed how he pulled her back, protecting her with his body, and even when Klaus had put himself in front of Five. It wasn't until the lab explosion that they really caught up on what she was actually like, especially when she diverted the flames back into the building, protecting Five from the fire. Or when she came to Diego when she was looking for Five after that explosion, claiming the two had fought.

"What- how did you find me?" he looked down at her, only for her to shrug and point at Luther who was sitting inside, "Followed the big guy, anyway, I need your help, I lost Five."

"He sure runs away from you a lot huh?" he snapped back, being his usual brooding self.

"Well, he has his ways of being 'protective', now after the explosion, he yelled at me, something along the lines of, 'we're all doomed and you followed me bla bla bla- and I can't find him," she said entering the small area, looking around and frowning at the heat, she'd roast in here.

"Arson, if you don't mind me asking, why did you follow him to 2019?" Luther asked, standing up as he was ready to look for their brother.

"Because I'd die for that moron and lose my mind without him." earning a look from the brothers.

That being said, after they found the drunk idiot in the library, Luther was carrying him as he tilted his head back, staring at Y/N, "You know, you're a cute kid."

"Thank you, I am aware."

"But jump in front of me to save me again and I'll kill ya myself." with that he puked, earning a groan from Luther as she burst out laughing.

Though things started to go down south real quick, especially when they were in Leonard Peabody's house, attic to be accurate, staring at the dead body wrapped in a rug. Five and Y/N had just come back from the commission, and on their way out, she had possibly gotten shot. Not that she had time for that, they finally had a lead and that was more important, plus it wasn't that bad. Or so she thought because as they were staring at it, she fell backward, only to be caught by Diego muttering, "Shit, FIVE she's bleeding." On the way to the manor, she lay in the backseat, with her head on his lap, breaths getting shallower as she looked up at him, his forest orbs staring back at her with guilt.

"Why didn't you say anything?" He whispered, this was all his fault, he should've known something was wrong with her. She had asked for his blazer (since she wore the uniform without the blazer and the sweater) as soon as they came back from the commission, of course, he was confused, she never felt cold, but he had given it to her anyway. Now she lay there in his arms, a shivering mess.

"More...important things to do." She shivered, pulling the coat blazer, "I f-feel cold."

"Diego! Hurry up" he hissed, pressing his hand against the wound that was still bleeding, glancing at her face, "stay awake for me okay? Can you do that love?"

By the time they had reached his room she was a shivering mess, he barely gave Grace room to stitch her back up, feeling the need to be with her was eating him up. Fortunately, Grace gave him a small smile before placing her hand on his shoulder, "She'll be alright dear." Everyone had left the room but Diego.

"Let her rest, Five, we should go and deal with this."

"I should've been more attentive."

"It's not your fault Five, none of us noticed."

"You know, she hasn't been using her powers much...wants you guys to like her." He sighed, covering her up with a blanket as he turned to Diego.

"I don't know about anyone else buddy, but I liked her the moment she came out of the portal and almost socked you in the face."

"Thanks, Diego."

So, Five and the siblings took care of the rest while she was told not to move a muscle by Five. Instructed to rest, fortunately, she agreed, as her body not being used to the cold was going to cause a problem. Nonetheless, when Vanya escapes the basement again, ready to attack everyone, Five blinked her out without waking her up. Which is why when she opens her eyes to their destroyed house she's just, "Please tell me I didn't black out again and do this?"

"No, this one's on us." Diego groaned as Klaus held onto him.

Nonetheless, when the time came they traveled back to 1963- dispersing, much to Five's displeasure. So, when he landed in the alley without her, he was very close to losing his mind.

Luckily, he found Eliot, unfortunately, he wanted to smack himself when he realised where she had ended up, rather with whom.

She fell out of the portal to land on something soft with a thud. Sitting up she looked around in the alleyway only to hear someone groan under her, "You got a thing for assaulting us?"

"Oh sorry, Diego." Getting off him she helped him, up then looked around, "I don't...see Five anywhere." She mumbled to herself, though he caught on.

"Stay here kid, " he stopped her with his hand, "I'll do a round then come and get ya"

"I'm literally 58."

"Yes, and in a child's body with a wound from a gunshot. So let's keep you safe, shall we, cause if Five did show up and you were dead, he'd put me through hell before killing me."

This exact conversation led the two to the asylum. He had gone to "save Kennedy" and when he didn't show up back in the alley she went to look for him.

Hissing, he dropped the knife, turning around to look at her, "Did you do that without touching it?" He asked, referring to the burning hot metal.

"What the F*** are you doing!?"

"Saving Kennedy-"

"YOU IDIOT. U CAN'T SAVE HIM WHEN THERE'S NO THREAT AND STOP MESSING WITH THE TIMELINE."

"Listen Arson, I'm doing the world a favor-"

"Oh my God, I'm stuck with the lunatic with a hero complex."

So, naturally, the two fought, and she ended up using her powers, trapping him in a ring of fire, hot enough to keep him warm and toasty, but not burn him. Unfortunately, when the authorities arrived, she had planned on escaping but the gunshot wound had begun to bleed again, she didn't understand why it was taking so long to heal, usually, she'd heal up quicker. Maybe her body's age recession pulled her back to the time when her body was weaker as well. Nonetheless, the cops arrived to find a tied-up Cuban man and an unconscious girl in a school uniform bleeding beside him.

Therefore, when Diego walked into the small room after 76 days of being stuck there, he was glad to see Five, who in return sighed in relief.

"Hey Five, how'd you find me?"

"This...thanks for getting my wife in here too." He whispered to him, leaning closer to the table, "Where is she?"

"Well, she burnt my fingertips and fainted- by the way she's using an alias, a nice name actually, Y/N"

"That's her actual name, you idiot. Now, what is this about Kennedy?"

"Wait what??"

After that wonderful interaction and him telling the guards about Diego trying to escape, he requested to meet her. Though the guards looked at the boy with some kind of pity,

"You know the kid too?" One of them asked

"I do, why?"

"Kid had a gunshot wound, bleeding pretty bad when we found her, looked battered up in general- has a tattoo-"

"Do you examine female patients?" He cut him off, glaring at him.

"The female staff told us."

When she comes in she rushes to him to hug him, feeling him wrap his arms around her. The guard clears his throat, "You can't do that here."

"Yeah?" He asks before pointing behind the man, "Look at that fly on the wall would ya?"

He blinks them out as soon as the man looks away, the only reason he had asked for Diego first and not her was so he could check if the room had cameras- it did not. He had blinked them to Eliot's, still holding onto her, breathing in her scent as he felt her warm body against his.

"I'm sorry for leaving you."

"As long as it wasn't on purpose." She muttered pulling away and looking around to find Eliot hiding behind the couch.

"Who is this??" He asked, only for them to ignore him.

"Did they hurt you?"

"No, actually took pretty good care of me, see" lifting her shirt a bit she showed him the wound that was now just a scar, "Turns out age recession affected my overall performance too, I can't heal as quickly as I usually do either."

"You know." He said as he led her to sit on a chair, "You could have gone to a hospital," whispering he crouched down to her level, scanning her face then lower, clicking his tongue. "Need to get you clothes too- Eliot, I would like for you to get my companion a uniform, preferably with pants-"

"Skirt." She cut him off sheepishly, avoiding his gaze, mumbling, "Hormonal changes make everything hot."

"A u-uniform? Of which school?"

"Any."

"But why?"

Five gave him a stare only for him to nod and quickly leave. Turning around he looked at her and sighed, going to sit on the couch, groaning. "So tired." He muttered as he closed his eyes, only to snap open when he felt her by his side, arms wrapping around his torso as she buried her face in his neck. "I missed you." Placing an arm over her shoulder he hummed, "Lost my shit when I couldn't find you."

"Well, I thought of leaving a trail, but Diego's Kennedy obsession had me follow him there. Had to keep him under control- the man has no regard for rules of time traveling or anything-"

She was cut off by his laughter, utterly confused she pulled away glaring at him, "what's so funny?"

"Look at you, following the rules, cleaning up someone's mess." He said turning to look at her with a smirk, "Y/N, I'm so proud of you, acting like Diego's moral compass"

"Haha. Very funny. Oh, and he has this weird chic around him- totally using him for something if I wasn't so tired the time, would've burnt her to a crisp."

"And we're back." He chuckled, grabbing her face and pecking her forehead, "I'm glad you're okay, darlin."

Nonetheless, when Diego did show up with Lila, to say she got along with the older couple was an overstatement. Neither trusted her nor did they like working with her. Five particularly began to despise her when they went to look for their father but were greeted by the Swedes.

Naturally, she went to help Five, using her powers to the minimum, to avoid any kind of fire accident. What was surprising was when Lila came upstairs she chose to help Five instead of Diego, running down when he blinked out even though Diego had called her.

"Shit." Y/N ran to save Diego, knocking the man off him, "Nice girlfriend, tell him your brother's taken." She snapped at him, too distracted to notice the incoming blow.

"FIVE STOP! It's not his fault I was distracted and-" She yelled pulling at him with one hand as he charged towards Deigo. She had snapped her wrist in the process and now at Eliot's place, Five was giving Diego a piece of his mind. The rest of the siblings had shown up as well- somewhat amused by the scenario.

"Y/N! This is between me and my brother", he turned to look at her, "so stay out of it please." He whispered before turning back to Diego, "you're unbelievable-" he stopped only when he saw Y/N run out of the building. He had assumed he had pissed her off, hence he followed her.

He had initially lost her, only to hear a loud explosion. Blinking to the abandoned factory he made his way through the smoke, only to Y/N standing face to face with the Handler. Behind the blonde was Lila, gripping onto her arm, which was possibly burnt due to the explosion.

"Ah, Arson, you never really were controllable".

"Lost my mojo for a while, but your copycat knock-off pissed me off enough to bring it back."

"Oh? No wonder you weren't burning people to ashes in 2019-"

"Don't tempt me, I'll show you two a glimpse of hell right now."

"I'd love to see that but right now," the lady looked behind Y/N with a creepy smile, "and there he is, the star of the show."

When they were told to kill the board, both agreed since they were getting a briefcase in return. However, Five had asked her- forced her- to stay back while he would handle it, much to her displeasure.

"No."

"Please."

"But I got my powers back too- like fully I mean-"

"Listen to me. You came back because of me, got shot because of me, look at yourself now, it's because of me. I promised to give you a better life and keep you safe and so far, Y/N I haven't. Please, just, stay put- keep an eye on my siblings but just stay here okay?"

"You have given me all you promised...that's why I followed you in the first place."

So, when Five returned with the briefcase, all bloody and in a hurry, he was greeted by the absence of most of his siblings. Where he was busy with his monologue about how stupid all of them were, she thought for a moment before speaking up, "Well, we could always...you know...meet you."

"W-what?" he groaned before sighing, stomping inside the building as Y/N and Luther followed him, "What's he doing?" Luther asked as Five poured a bottle of baby powder down his shirt and then pants.

"Preventing Paradox Psychosis, that would explain why he's been extra jumpy, I thought it was because you met with your father, then I saw the date."

"Luther, I need ya to be my spotter."

Five did not expect to see his younger self sitting in front of him, let alone his wife, who too was a teenager now, sitting beside his other self. Other than the occasional farts being let out the two were staring at each other for a good fifteen minutes until the older-looking one spoke,

"Arson, what happened to your arm?"

"You can call me by my name, Luther knows it, they all do- got it while fighting."

"I guess we had one job that we couldn't do."

"Guess we couldn't" the younger one snapped, "Now be a good husband and help your wife out, would ya."

"Why should I, you'd just hurt her more."

"You literally left your wife a note and dipped, you don't get to comment."

"Said wife sitting right here, a**hats."

He excused himself to go to the washroom, only for her to do the same after a few seconds. Though Five is too paranoid to care about that at the moment, he looks at Luther and tells him how he doesn't trust himself.

She came into the washroom when he was washing his hands, only to stop and glare at her, eyes softening at the sight of her sling, sighing, "You should've stayed."

"You knew I wouldn't, yet you wrote that sweet dumb note."

"You know what I'll have to do right?" He asked, standing up straighter as he looked at her in the eye, only to sense her body radiating heat at an abnormal rate, "You can't even control your powers in that body-"

"I can, you're just pissing me off."

"Why do you do it," he sighed, grabbing the briefcase, only for her to shrug calming down, "Guess I love ya."

"Isn't that music to my ears." with that he brushed past her and out of the toilet.

While they're on their way, Five screaming at every passing being, Luther looks at Y/N clearing his throat, "So, he uh, said he'd kill you two." Only for her to nod, "Well, he can kill himself easy, it'd be fun to see him try to kill me."

"Well, he did say you're an anomaly" Luther stated as a matter of fact.

"Son, I burnt down an entire battalion in front of your brother, and a year later he proposed to me- trust me, I am the bug that corrupted his morality." Luther stopped and stared at her, she was smiling back at him as innocently as possible, "Oh don't worry, I'm passed that phase, though I wouldn't test me."

When the fight broke out between the Fives, Luther trying to stop them asked Y/N to help, who thought it would be really funny to stand between the two fives. Both stopped their hit mid-air, glaring at her, earning a look from both of them. "You thinking what I'm thinking." the younger one asked the older one who nodded, only for the younger five to grab her and blink her back to the bar and blink back to continue the fight.

"Now, where were we?"

Once the older one was pushed into the portal, the younger Five looked at Luther, about to speak, when something flew past him like a meteor- while Luther backed off, Five could swear that time slowed down and he stared at his older-looking wife for a good minute, both exchanging a confused look as she flew in the blue portal, closing in after she was gone.

"What was that?" Luther asked only for Five to mutter out, "My wi-" a blurry figure knocking him down, "HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YA TO NOT LEAVE ME BEHIND?" she asked, getting off of him.

"The real question is, how many ways can you shoot yourself like a rocket?" He asked as Luther helped him up.

"Several, why?"

"Did you throw yourself into the portal like the Human Torch back then?"

"Of course Five, I've told you multiple times, I'd set anything you love on fire."

"And that includes you?"

"Well, you do love me." She said kicking the vaporized briefcase, muttering a f*** under her breath, as she turned to look at him giving him that heart-stopping smile of hers, "Because I'll kill ya if you changed your mind."

"I assure you, sweetheart, that won't change even if you set the whole world on fire," was all he said as he grabbed her uninjured hand and began to walk away from the scene, they were officially f***ed but at least one thing was clear- he finally figured out what the hell love meant, 'the burning passion that makes one forget how everything's f***ed'.

Poor Luther, however, had no idea what the hell that exchange was, however, he was certain about one thing, Y/N wasn't insane alone, his brother was no better. Well, at least they were together, he thought to himself as he followed the couple holding hands, talking about how they'll probably be dead pretty soon. He was glad though, that Diego was right, once they had met in Dallas again, he had told him how Y/N would count down the days, convincing Diego that Five would come for them. Perhaps this was true love, not that he knew what love actually was- guess he was glad at least one of his siblings found one that lasts.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A/N: Yes, this was supposed to be a simple HC , but I kinda lost control okay- I wasn't in the best of moods lately and writing this just was an emotional roller coaster. I'm so sorry @madelynmulford , I really do hope you like it <3

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