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wizkiddx · 3 years

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work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

#tomholland #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n #hurt comfort #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #harry holland

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chaeiimimi · 3 years

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2:30 am (Suna x Reader)

Part 1

Its been two weeks since you left the apartment, you were thankful that it was the spring break and you were able to spend it in your home

But it did feel significantly lonelier

You haven't opened your devices and social medias for two weeks, you were practically detached from what was happening outside the comfort of your childhood neighbourhood

The past two weeks were spent nicely, cooking with your mother, playing with the cats and dogs, catching up with high school friends (you even went out with Yachi three times), random market trips and hikes

But with all of that you can't help but be reminded of Suna in whatever you do, it all seems like yesterday you were the club manager for Karasuno High School

The nationals was where it all started, getting lost in a huge gymnasium was a very "you" thing to do

So what do you do when you're lost? You ask people, it just so happens that the person you asked was your next opponent (you mentally slapped yourself for that one)

A tall foxy guy wearing his headphones and just chilling in the bench to calm his nerves before the match and living his peaceful life and you decided to crash it with your angelic smile, your gentle voice and exquisite features

You had no business being this breath-taking

He was a stuttering mess when you asked him which way was the arena

"I-i'm on my w-way there do you wanna come with m-me?"

Suna was a very calm and composed person it was never in him to stutter over a girl but then there you were proving him wrong, he didn't even notice the huge "Karasuno" at the back of your jacket

You nodded at him and so you made your way

You didn't really think about it during the match, although you were surprised the foxy guy was your oponent

After the game, which you won by the way, you didn't expect him to come up to you and ask for your name and number, you were foolishly naive back in the day, so you gave him yours despite being a total stranger

Soon it progressed to constantly texting and calling each other late in the night, him confessing to you over the phone which you gladly accepted, him visiting your hometown and the other way around, he went into college while you were still in your third year of high school, random visits to his campus until you eventually moved in when you went to the same university, cheering him in his games with EJP up until he made it to the national team

From spontaneous lunch dates, brushing each other's teeth, two am fastfood run, three am drives to the beach, four am mental breakdowns, five am cuddles and six am coffees

He was all you could think of

"Suna I need to go" he was hugging your waist tightly like he don't ever wanna let go

He looks up at you, eyes beady with unshed tears "you're coming back right?" he says in a hushed tone almost pleading

You kissed him on the forehead "yes, i'm coming back"

And you meant it, you knew that you can't afford to lose him, you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your days with him, you knew that you could fix this relationship

and sometimes, a break is what really all you needed

You got up from your bed, and decided you wanted to go to the convenience store nearby to get yourself a very late midnight snack

The sky was pitch black, decorated with dots of white that were the stars, the moon shines brightly and you were glad you went out to witness this

The sound of crickets and insects were comforting accompanying you to the nearby convenience store

You made your way to the aisle and got yourself some chips and ice cream which you quickly paid for

Going out you heard a familiar tune of Arctic Monkeys, an image of Suna flashes in your head

You whipped your head to the direction where the tune was coming from and lo and behold, a disheveled Suna in his black hoodie and grey sweats

He didn't seem to notice you as he was immersed in the music of his headphones which was very loud you can vividly hear it

You slowly made your way towards him, your heart pounding like it was about to break your ribs, god you missed him so bad

You lightly tapped him in his shoulder, looking up he saw you and his eyes widen

Before you can even speak, his lips crashed against yours, his calloused hand cupping your cheeks as the other one held the back of your head pushing your face impossibly closer to his, your knees wobbled, chips and ice cream on the ground

The moon witnessed how you longed for each other, your tounges danced in perfect harmony, teeth clashing from time to time, and the hums and low growls emitted from the both of you

You pulled back feeling breathless as he pulls you in a bone-crushing hug

"god I missed you so much babe I was going crazy" he says in a breathy voice

He sneaks his face at the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning that area

"Rin how long have you been here?" you asked as you hugged him back

"three days" he answers still not letting you go

"what about practice?"

"fuck practice I was missing my girl" he says and hugs you tighter

You stayed like that for a few minutes before he pulled back, he wasn't able to look you in the eye

"hey um I'm sorry, I have no excuse in forgetting your birthday, and I was so busy because of the move that I took it out all on you"

You looked at him confused

"move?" you asked, his eyes widen and he scratched the back of his neck

"this was supposed to be a surprise, but I already signed the lease to our own house, I uhmmm you told me about the house you found pretty and-"

"Rin that was an expensive house" you told him a worried tone in your voice

"I know, but I worked hard for it, I train six days a week and spend lot of time away from you for it, just let me okay?" he says in a gentle tone

You bit your lip, feeling relieved that he was not spending his time with the chick from the women volleyball team but mostly feeling touched that he would go to this extent to give you a comfortable life

Yout thoughts were cut off when he cleared his throat

"that night, I went out to have drinks, I was celebrating with the team because I finally got you this"

He reached down for his pocket and took out a velvet box, he opened it and it revealed the prettiest ring you've seen in your entire life, a golden ring adorned with a grogeous diamond

"You will spend the rest of your life with me, and I won't take no for an answer"

You chuckled at his antics, tears freely escaping your eyes

"I wouldn't have it any other way love" you said as he slips the ring into your finger, pulling you into a hug and kissing your temple

Suna looks at the digital clock outside the convenience store, 2:30 am wasn't an ideal time to propose, but with you, he would do it any time of the day.

Yaaaayy I'm finally done with the part 2, I hope y'all liked it💖

Taglist:

@erinoikawa @minnieminnie00-got7

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #suna rintaro x y/n #suna x reader #x reader

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cesca-untoldstories · 2 years

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Hey there giiiiirl (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

I was wondering in you and Cesca had a song that makes you cry? But not like sad tears! It's hard to explain but, I mean a song that perhaps is beautiful so you cry happy tears? But that's okay with all type of emotions, it's just has to be a song that as soon as you hear it, bam. Tears flowing down XD

Like for example, everytime I listen to this song I cry HAHAHAHA I mean- it literally just says one line at it makes me cry. I know that I'm a very emotional person, but that melody- maybe even phrase idk XD- makes me feel... nostalgic? I KNOW IT'S WEIRD BUT LIKE- It's like something that I'm missing?? That I can't reach or that I was able to reach??? And that maybe I'll be able to reach again???? Fuck I really don't know, it's really hard to explain XD But like, that's the only song that makes me feel like that. That's what I meant in the question, a song that makes you feel some kind of emotions that you can't describe and makes you really emotional :'')

And I think that also the ending song of Stone Ocean makes me feel like that, almost at least. Because I feel these emotions but I don't cry XD and the fact that they even added the shore- MMMH OH BOY EMOTIONS RIGHT HERE AND THERE- It's a pretty messed up mix but in a good way XD What do you think of this ending?? 👀👀

And I also want to know cuz, I asked some people the same question and they all responded "Eeeh maybe? I cry when I hear to sad music", but that's not the answer that I was searching for XD

I really hope that you understood what I mean cuz FUCK this is really hard to explain and I'm not the best at explaining things in general XD

Have some love because you deserve it 💖💖

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH---!!! yeah actually i have tons of them hahaha like that special nostalgic feeling that gives chills down your spine and tears start to fill your eyes and you're like "wait, but if this song isn't sad why are my eyes sweating? I think a song that 'Cesca would start crying without Domino Dancing controlling the tears is this song

I mean, We are talking about "Once upon a December" but this is like so deep in 'Cesca... like the lonelyness in the song of someone that miss her family, December been her birthday month, the movie?! oh lord the movie. Now 'Cesca is anastasia confirmed (sorry Anasui /shot) guess who can be Dimitri hahaha

I will blame Kakyoin for this one but this song Francesca will suffer from it, and not exactly because of the sad nostalgic melody or Sting Voice but the beautiful melody she hears through that cassette Kakyoin bought in the flee market and showed her. she is obsessed with that song and helps her to sleep but meanwhile sleeping she would start crying.

(( FOR ME, this damn song always made me cry a whole lot. TOO MANY THOUGHTS TOO MANY MEMORIES WITHIN PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT WITH ME ANYMORE BUT ARE BEAUTIFUL MEMORIES THAT I ENDED UP IN MY BED LIKE sob sob snif. RHCP always make me cry a lot and I don't even know why? is like idk like the feeling of too many memories attached to them in my teens days hahaha so I totally feel you with the song you sent, is like THIS FUCKING FEELING I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DESCRIBE BUT UGHJGH--- is killing me slowly. Killing me slowly with his song (8)))

LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING ABOUT STONE OCEAN ENDING....

I cried at 4 am, sobbing so hard that woke my mom and asked me if I was feeling bad or something and I was like "Yea sure, I just spoiled myself with the end of my serie long ago and the ending is just a spoiler itself and I'm crying because my 2D husbando and daughter and their gay little friends are gonna have a bad time"

hahaha I promise I was like " y eah It was just the first episode of many to go..." she can't tell me anything tho, she is a crying baby too. things that are inherited

#mun fran talking #Francesca Castiglier #friends talking #.thoughts

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meyeselph · 3 years

Text

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

#gwenpool #fanfic #deconstruction #outofloveiswear #fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney #tw mental health #tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of drug abuse #tw violence #tw gun violence

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crazy4myself · 4 years

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No Harm List Pt.4

Word Count: 7.2k

Summary: You live in a city where crime runs rampant. One day, you save a young boy's life, not knowing that he is the most powerful crime lord's heir. And you have just been put on the no harm list.

Trigger warnings: DESCRIPTION OF PANIC ATTACK!! I really took my time with writing this, trying my hardest to convey these feelings without being triggering. I also tried to make it as comforting as possible, but if you are feeling a little anxious maybe save this fic for a better day. Mental health first!

Additional warnings: mentions of violence, explicit language, mentions of death,

Genre: Romance, angst, violence, gang/mafia AU,

Rating: 18+ (bc of mentions of violence there’s no sexual content)

<- Pt.3

"Hobi, I don't wanna be mad. I just wanna know the truth,” you pleaded, voice wavering. And that was the truth, you felt like you could care less if he was in a gang. It was Alcorn, you had to be in a gang to survive if you weren't rich.

Upon seeing your eyes water and your lip tremble, Hoseok instantly wished you would scream at him. He didn't want to hurt you. He didn't mean for it to go this far. For you two to get so close after his sister's death, or for him to lie to you for so long. He told himself he kept you out of it for your safety, but really it was just too easy for him to live two lives, for you to look at him like he wasn't a murderer and for him to pretend for a few hours that he wasn't.

He sighed, sitting on the couch, and you plopped down next to him and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

"I guess it's best to start at the very beginning, which was when I was around 16," he started.

"I lived in the same neighborhood as these two guys RM and Suga. They had actually served some time for getting busted with another gang, the Dime Lions, they're long gone now but basically, some shit went down during some kind of gang raid, and RM and Suga ended up taking the fall for it. Instead of the Dime Lions busting them out of jail, they left them there and basically disowned them afterward."

You nodded along to let him know you were following.

"Anyways RM and Suga, they had a rough start when they got out of the gang, both were bastards, street rats on the Westside they never had anyone to look out for them. So they did the only thing they could do at the time to survive, which was breaking it to cars and shit and cleaning them out. I don't just mean personal belongings of these guys took engine parts, piping, tiers they took it all, and sold it to any scrap shops they could find. At the time, I was working at my uncle's scrapyard. I knew RM and Suga when they were in middle school before they joined the Dime Lions. They stayed with the foster family that lived in my neighborhood. I knew they had been kicked out of the house and were basically living with the Lion's, so when I saw they were working alone, I got curious. For a year or so, I convinced my uncle to continue buying from them even when he started getting a little suspicious about the guys stealing. The guys knew I looked out for them, and we were cool for a while. Then my mom got sick," he paused for a moment looking away from you.

You reached out and placed your hand on his leg knowing how hard it was for him to talk about his mom and Dawon.

Collecting himself, Hoseok went on, "So I asked for an in with the guys, I needed money and I knew cars. I could remove the parts more effectively than they could. I also knew some clientele who were always coming by and buying parts because they flip cars for fun, those guys were easy targets. So I guess the three of us were a little gang of misfits for a while, I used the money to help pay for mom's treatment. They used the money to survive.

Then we started taking some younger ones under our wing. RM and Suga got their own place and opened their doors to some kids in a rough spot like they were. But as we got bigger, we started getting sloppy. We had been at it for about a year at this point. The guys started taking on some other jobs, but I stuck to what I did best. I wasn't really interested in broadening my horizons. Like I said, we had been at it for a while, and I got cocky, I guess. We had a few scuffles here and there, but we always got out of them okay. Then one night, we got busted scraping a car at some guy's house, and he shot me in the leg, and the cops got me. RM ended up bailing me out of jail, and Suga, Suga got me a gun."

He shifted in his seat and looked at you nervously, "I wanted out at this point, mom was basically on her deathbed, and I was all Dawon had. I couldn't risk going to jail, ya know. I owed RM money for bail, but my uncle got me a job as an actual mechanic, I thought I could earn money the honest way, pay them back and then Dae and I could just go back to our lives. But then the doctors told us about some experimental treatment that could possibly cure mom. How the hell could I pass that up? I would have done anything to help her get better." his brows furrowed as he tightened his fist into balls.

"So I stayed. At this point, BTS was growing, it was an official gang, tattoo and all. We had recruited Jin, who came from money, he used some of his trust fund to fund BTS and help us grow, and RM was starting to get a little ambitious. He wanted territory, he wanted me to take the tattoo and be his third." Hobi squeezed his eyes shut as he let out a sigh, he felt like he had to force the words out of him to confess his sins to you.

"I told you Suga got me a gun after the arrest, and it ended up I'm a really good shot, so good I didn't even have to kill a guy for a long time. I researched where to shoot to keep someone down for a long while without it being fatal, so that's what I did. I worked a few more jobs for RM, we did a big heist. Actually, that was our big break. A team of six other guys and I broke into this old rich dude's mansion, nearly cleaned out his safe when we split the money most of the guys put a percentage into my pot. I walked out that night with almost enough to pay for mom's treatment in full.

I told RM I wouldn't be his third, and he offered me an out, I just needed to take one more job for him, and he would pay out the rest of mom's bills, so that's what I did. I killed for the first time, and then I was free. I wouldn't have to do any of it again. Well, that's what I intended," he paused, his voice growing softer.

You tried to keep your face neutral as he revealed the horrors to you. Not that it mattered Hoseok couldn't even bring himself to look at you.

"Mom ended up passing that night." he laughed, a bitter sound that felt foreign to the kind man you knew, "I swear whatever cruel god is out there pulling all the strings did it to punish me. To let me know, they saw what I had become and that I didn't deserve to have people I love in my life. I wasn't good enough to feel love in this world,"

"Hobi, that's not-" he cut you off with a bitter laugh as he looked upwards to hold back his tears. The motion made him seem as though he was searching for the fates he mocked. "Don't y/n, I know what I am,"

"Dae was a senior when mom passed, and it absolutely broke her. I had to fight to get her to go to school for those last few months. Hell, it was a fight to get her out of bed for her graduation. Her exit exams were a disaster, and the councilors at the college were understanding, for the most part. They still admitted her to the school, but not a drop of financial aid was offered to her. She deserved so much more," Hobi's voice was laced with bitter disdain, his eyes looking far off.

"So I did everything I could to give it to her. I borrowed from Namjoon, enough to cover her entire admission at Alcorn University."

"Hobi, that's so much," you couldn't hold the comment in. It was near impossible for an ordinary person to buy their way into Alcorn if they didn't get scholarships, the tuition at the prestigious school was over $20,000 a semester for admission alone.

"And I did it, I had Jin make up a fake scholarship for her, send her a cute little letter telling her about the award. She thought that she earned a full ride, and I let her believe it. I even borrowed enough so she would stay in the dorms, I figured it would be safest to keep her out of the house. I didn't know what kind of jobs RM was going to have me do."

"I took the tattoo, and killing became more of a normal thing for me. It started to get easier, I kept my distance and tried my hardest to not even see their eyes.

There was a big turf war that year. I don't know, the city was on the brink of a recession, a lot of big players in the city were changing the rules of the game. Business owners fought to take down other businesses simply so theirs could stay open, the market was a disaster. I never cared about the politics of any of it, I just did what I was told, and because of that, I'm still not totally sure all I did that year. What lives I took. Who all I hurt. I did everything I could to forget those nights and the blood. I told myself I was doing it for a good reason, ya know.

I didn't want to know, I thought I would save that for the day I'm standing outside of hell, and they list off every single one of my evil deeds before they sentence their judgment." Hoseok's vacant eyes started to shine with tears.

"And that was the stupidest fucking thing I could have ever done. I had no clue who had it out for me, I had started feeling invincible. I didn't even consider that someone would want to take their revenge, I had killed Kim Martin Sr.'s son."

Your blood chilled at the name, and he didn't look at you as he continued.

"He was some big business owner or something, I was supposed to kill him, but there was a mix-up, and I got his son, Kim Martin Jr. instead. Whoever made the call decided that killing his son was just as effective because the grief practically destroyed him. A few misguided stock investments, while he was grieving, crashed his empire. He lost everything and had to move to the Westside in the aftermath.

Suga kept good tabs on the guy, but then he fell off the grid. We figured he left town or hell maybe he died. We didn't consider him a threat, he showed no interest in coming after BTS, so I didn't even think to keep an eye out for Dawon."

You felt hot tears roll down your face as you realized what happened. The media painted Martin as the bad guy. They accused him of losing his business after his son died due to extreme drug abuse. The city officials wrote him off as such a pathetic low life, that come the time of his death that his murder was barely investigated. It was simply declared a drug deal gone wrong. But he was a father, a father who lost everything to a hitman and wanted to return the favor.

Hoseok believed he didn't deserve love. Whatever higher power that was calling the shots took everything away from him as punishment.

You think of your best friend now long passed, her beautiful smile and contagious laugh. The way she could always read you and knew exactly what you needed, whether it be your favorite ice cream on your period or a trip to the botanical gardens in the middle of the night when she knew you were missing home a bit more than normal.

There was a loose glass in the greenhouse that hosted the plants native to your home. You would both scale the fence to the gardens late at night and push that glass panel in and carefully crawl into the greenhouse. The air would be filled with the floral scents you grew up with, and you would just walk the rows of plants and run your fingers over the velvet petals and waxy leaves.

Until Dawon would play music, a playlist the two of you made of songs in your native tongue. You would dance around the humid greenhouse singing on the top of your lungs while Dawon would laugh and clap along, excitedly shouting with you when she recognized a word or two.

You thought about the way you and Hoseok both carried a burden of guilt after she passed. Until now, you had felt like you failed her as a best friend and roommate.

For three years, you had tortured yourself with thoughts like if you hadn't procrastinated so much on your assignments that week, you would have been home when she decided to make a late snack run. You told yourself the robber probably wouldn't have stopped her if you were together. You reasoned that two of you would have deterred her as a target.

Or maybe he would have just shot you instead. Dawon would have recovered from the loss so much better, she had Hoseok to comfort her and family and friends to support her. You were merely an exchange student in a city with no morals, loved by no one, but taken in out of guilt by her brother. It would've been a better trade.

You tortured yourself with these thoughts day and night consumed with feelings similar to survivor's guilt.

You never understood Hoseok's guilt, until tonight, you felt like there was nothing he could have done to make that night play out differently. But now you realize he could have anything, and it might have made a difference.

"Y/n, I understand if you hate me," Hoseok said softly, watching the tears that dripped down your cheek as you processed everything he told you.

"I wanted to honor Dawon's wish. I didn't expect you to do so much for me, for you to become my best friend and for you to make me feel normal. I kept this from you because you were the closest thing to her I had left. There was a time where I thought I would distance myself from you when you moved out. That I would just become another hazy detail to the tragedy, and you would move on completely with your life, but y/n you were so sad, and you needed me too.

When you moved out, I was terrified of something happening to you. I couldn't stop myself from checking up on you. I couldn't let us grow apart." Hoseok's voice broke off as you looked at him, the pain and betrayal in your eyes.

"Y/n, you're the closest thing I have to redemption, protecting you, being your friend is the last thread of humanity I have left, I can't lose you," he pleaded.

"You watched me blame myself," you whispered accusingly, your eyes shining with betrayal.

"You watched me tear myself apart, and used comforting me to make you feel better about yourself?"

He flinched at your words, "I tried everything I could to convince you there was nothing you could have done," Hobi argued feebly.

"Everything but tell the truth," you hissed as hot tears rolled down your cheek.

You got up as a sob escaped you, your face red and snot running from your nose. Hoseok stood with you, but you flinched away with a broken no.

"I need time, Hoseok," you begged.

You swallowed thickly as you did everything in your power to keep it together, "I don't want to hate you, but please, I need time to think about everything," you assured. Even knowing what he did, he was right. You needed him too. If you lost him, you truly didn't have anyone in the city who cared if you lived or died tomorrow. And maybe settling for that made you your own kind of monster.

It was funny how he claimed such a tarnished person could be his redemption.

You secure your bag to your shoulder, stepping out into the night air and pulling the door closed behind you. You couldn't even bring yourself to lock the door behind you, afraid that if you stopped moving for one second that you would completely break down and be unable to make it home. You only hoped Hoseok was smart enough to check the door behind you and make sure to lock it.

You counted the stairs as you made your descent and into the parking lot, making an effort to take in your surroundings. You tried to list off the colors of the cars as you passed them, and while some distant part of you did the action, you still felt like the effort wasn't reaching whatever corner of your brain you were hiding in.

You got a lot better with controlling your anxiety attacks as you made it further in college, even going as far as taking advantage of the university's free therapy sessions to get professional guidance in your junior year. You defaulted to your go-to grounding technique as your feet moved of their own accord to carry you home. 5,4,3,2,1 was an exercise that made you aware of your surroundings and tether yourself to this world when your mind felt a dimension away.

The technique walked you through your five senses, making you list off 5 things you could see, 4 things you could feel, 3 things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. Even in your most anxious moments, you were a slut for making a good list. You always found this exercise more soothing than any breathing technique.

Your eyes searched without really seeing as you tried to find five things you could see around you. Straining yourself to really take in your surroundings, you settled for a yellow fire hydrant, a car parked on the side of the road, a penny on the ground, a drainage inlet tucked into the curb, and finally your own yellow shoes pacing down the concrete sidewalk.

You were going to be okay, you reminded yourself as you took an intentional breath.

Next, four things you can touch, you focused on your breathing as you reached an arm out to graze your fingertips along with the rough brick of the building you walked by.

You shifted a little more with each step, concentrating on how the fabric of your clothes moved across your skin and curling your toes into the padding of your shoes. You didn't count each feeling, your wandering mind struggling to really take in each sensation, but you were sure you touched four things by now.

This was a mistake you often caught yourself making when counting down like this. Sometimes you were in such a rush to reach the end and get to one as if identifying one taste would magically make all your anxieties go away that you forget to take it slow and really center yourself.

Three things you can hear, it was at the time, as you strained to let the world in through the all-consuming pounding of your heart in your ears, that you realized you were whimpering to yourself slightly. The awareness of your own vulnerability made you stumble as your mind spiraled, and you struggled to find something to tether you back to the earth.

You began walking faster before realizing you're not certain you were going the right way. So you came to a halt, realizing you couldn't bring yourself to focus enough to take in your surroundings. You stared at the street sign for a long time, repeating the letters to yourself as you made them form a word finally settling on Gardenia.

Your breathing hitched as you realized you had wandered off the main streets and into a neighborhood in your daze. You were lost, but you couldn't bring yourself to care about it, and the lack of fear flashed an alarm in your mind that let you know you were too far gone to count away your anxieties.

You struggled to breathe as you tried to come up with a decision. You needed to ground yourself to calm down. You needed to list off 5 things you could see, fourth things you could feel, three things you could hear, two things you could smell, and one thing you could taste. You knew the only way to bring yourself back to the world was to become aware of your settings.

But it felt as if the part of your brain that knew all these things didn't even touch whatever part of your mind was controlling you now. You were better off giving directions to the light pole you stood under.

You felt your breathing get harder as you desperately gasped in all the air you could. Your arms and legs began to tingle as your body over oxidized, and your head began to spin.

Slowly you slumped to the ground, wrapping your arms around the light pole you had stopped under as you spiraled.

What were you even doing before this moment? How did you even get here? You forced your eyes open wide, hoping the action would make you actually see and register what you were looking at to no avail.

What were you doing, what were you doing, what were you doing?

You struggled to reign in your thoughts of your laughing best friend and her crying brother. Or was it your crying best friend and his dead sister?

You were supposed to find three things you could hear. Your crying doesn't count. A more logical voice seemed to get through to you.

You strained your ears to hear past your own breathing, you could hear a frog croaking in the grass nearby, you felt the earth beneath you to confirm you had in fact settled in a patch of grass. You smiled to yourself proud of your progress as you continued to listen as you continued to listen. You heard the electricity buzzing in the light pole you had wrapped your arms around, you felt almost childlike as you opened your eyes. Actually, seeing this time as you looked up at the pole, you were around.

You needed one more sound, you strained your ears, expecting to be met with something like a far off car driving by. Instead, you heard your name being called. You blinked as you turned away from the street lamp and towards the repeating sound of a familiar set of syllables coming from a familiar voice.

Jungkook jogged up to as he saw you curled around a lamppost. Even from a distance, he could see the rapid way your chest was rising and falling in that familiar chaotic rhythm he only saw when he found Taehyung or Yoongi having a panic attack. You looked up at him with a tear-stained face and saw the confusion of his presence take you off guard and snap whatever control you had over yourself.

Your face crumpled as a sob broke from your chest, and you turned away from him and curled yourself around the light pole a little tighter.

Jungkook felt such a rush of guilt and panic at the sight of you so broken that he ignored the dull ache in his knees as he instinctively fell down in the grass next to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you from the cold metal pole, trying to position comfortably in his chest.

Jungkook shifted as he uncurled his legs from beneath his body and stretched them out next to yours in front of him, trying to touch as much of his body to you in comfort. You didn't resist, but the jolting motions did seem to make you more upset for a short moment. Jungkook realized he forgot to ask for permission to touch you before he acted.

He knew Tae preferred physical comfort to calm down, but sometimes it could act more as a trigger when unwelcomed. He loosened his grip hesitantly, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, hugging him closer to you in response.

Physical contact is. He thought to himself as he began stroking one hand up and down your back and rocking you both side to side slightly as if he was trying to calm a baby from a tantrum.

Which he basically was doing, you thought bitterly to yourself as you accepted the comfort.

You were too far gone to calm yourself down. You had ridden the river of upsetting thoughts that triggered your attack all the way down, and now you risked floating out to sea and losing yourself forever. Not actually forever, just until you would cry yourself unconscious and wake up to start anew. But you supposed accepting comfort was better than sleeping outside in a neighborhood you didn't know.

Jungkook whispered to you, not the sweet nothings people typically say when they see people break down like 'it's going to be okay,' or most annoyingly 'breath.' No Jungkook simply told you, 'you're safe,' 'take your time,' 'you're stronger than you give yourself credit for' and in your case most importantly, 'exhale.'

When people see you having a panic attack and hear the loud gasp you make as you fight to breathe, they instinctively tell you to breathe as a way to calm down. But it's your failure to let the air out that keeps your body over oxidized, making it harder for you to feel in control of yourself.

Slowly, you regained control of your body, and your desperate gasps for air morphed into shallow panting. Your shallow breathing morphed into soft whimpers and sniffled. Jungkook held you as your continuous knit itself together, and you faced the pain your mind was so desperate to escape.

He rubbed you back as you let out soft sobs as you reopened wounds that had healed into jagged scars. You cried for Dawon and her undeserved death. For Hoseok and the guilt you knew, he carried every day. You cried for Kim Martin, who died at the hands of the killer that stole his son. You cried for yourself, over the fear of the future as you saw it grow intimately tangled with a notorious gang.

You don't know how long Jungkook waited as you reeled yourself back together. He waited long after you finished crying, knowing just because you had control of yourself physically didn't mean you were mentally ready to face the world, so he wrapped you in his warmth and hummed to himself as he rocked you both slowly.

You loosened and tightened your grip on his shirt and curled and uncurled your toes as you tried to become more aware of your body. You were basically sprawled out on the grass with your upper body twisted and pulled into Jungkook's middle. It wasn't the most comfortable position, but you weren't willing to risk losing his warmth to move.

You licked your lips, and the jarring taste of your salty tears pulled you from your self pitying thoughts, deciding to work your way up the list you once again started to count.

One thing you taste, salt.

Two things you smell: you inhaled deeply and took in the smell of laundry detergent that clung to Jungkkook's shirt. "Detergent," you mumbled into his shirt, and the sound of a coherent word leaving you made Jungkook's humming stop as he looked down at you, nuzzling your face deeper into his chest. He held in his chuckle as you stiffed the air again, and confidently said, "and grass."

You finally pulled yourself away from him only slightly to turn your face away from him, your cheek still pressed against his chest.

"I can hear frogs, cars nearby, and.. your heart," you listed as you looked up at him from under you thick lashes still clumped with tears, "it's louder than mine," you observed as you listened to the hammering in his chest.

He was from a different kind of nerves.

He recognized the countdown and realized you were working to ground yourself, "What can you feel?" he prompted eager to get you to move on from his pounding heart.

"Your t-shirt, it's soft, the grass poking at me through my jeans, my bra digging into me" you wrinkled your nose as you became aware of the discomfort.

"And?" Jungkook prompted. A smile curled your lips as you looked up at him mischievously, "You're abs," you giggled as you sat up, finally pulling away from him. Jungkook felt the heat crawl up his neck as he turned away, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully.

"And what do you see?" he asked gently, looking everywhere but you.

You smiled at his bashfulness as you look around, "I see the street sign, the green grass," you pause as you squint, "I think that's either a rock or some dog poop over there," Jungkook let out a startled laugh. You smiled to yourself proudly as you continued.

"Our shadows from the street light, and,” you pause realizing how close the two of you are, "the little mole underneath your lip."

"Good," he whispered, and you watched in fascination how his lips formed the words, "Are you ready to get up now, or do you need a few minutes?" he asked. It was the way his mouth twisted into a smile at the end of the sentence that made you realize you were still staring at his lips. You blinked before looking up at his eyes, which was alight with a teasing glint.

"I can stand," you answered, flustered as you pulled your body away from him. Maneuvering your feet beneath you to get up. Jungkook offered you a hand once he was up helping pull you to your feet, before bending down and grabbing your purse for you. Your feet still tingled in that pins and needles feeling. You wiggled your hands to wake up your fingers as well, but other than that, you felt like you recovered from the physical toll of the panic attack quite well.

"C'mon my place is at the end of this road, let me grab a car and drive you home," he offered.

You walked with him obediently, your hands brushing past each other twice before Jungkook's hand finally snatched yours mid-swing; you looked down and watched as your fingers intertwined with his effortlessly. You looked to him to see a change in his expression, but he looked straight ahead as he walked, acting as if nothing happened.

You smiled at yourself, thankful for the affection. You always did get a little clingy after panic attacks, relying heavily on skinship and the feeling of someone taking care of you as a way to feel calm. You were surprised how easy it was for you to let Jungkook fall into that roll despite barely knowing him. But you suppose in the handful of interactions the two of you shared, he's always prioritized your comfort and safety.

"This is your house?" you asked as you took in the massive white art deco house behind the gate you stopped in front of. The gate buzzed and rolled open for the two of you of its own accord and rolled open for the two of you.

Jungkook smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, kinda," he said with a shrug.

You raised a brow, "kinda?"

"It's complicated, c'mon let's get you home," he said with a tug reminding you that the two of you were still holding hands. You flushed but followed obediently as you made your way to the garage.

You squinted as your eyes were met with a flood of fluorescent light upon opening the door. A row of vehicles lined its way down the length of the garage, varying from sports car, to jeep, to a large black truck at the end of the row. A line of 4 motorcycles along the furthest wall.

"J-Hope sells Namjoon a car any chance he gets," Jungkook chuckled as he took in your awed expression.

"J-Hope?" you questions, and Jungkook's smile faltered.

"That's what we call Hoseok," he clarified.

You nodded in understanding, "Like how Taehyung goes by V?" you asked, and he nodded.

"Hoseok, does he sell drugs like V does?" you asked curious of what all Hoseok's gang involvement entailed.

Jungkook opened his mouth to answer but was cut off as the adjacent door slammed up from what looked to be inside the house, revealing a man in a black t-shirt with a mop of platinum blond hair.

"There you are," he practically growled as he stormed in the room.

The man was dwarfed by Jungkook a good bit, but somehow Jungkook seemed to cower and appear smaller as the man approached, dropping your hand as if he were caught doing something he shouldn't.

You looked at him curiously and wondered if he was.

"Yoongi hyung," he greeted as he tried to force a smile, "I was just about to-"

"Save it," he snapped, "I have half the army out looking for you, ya know," he turned his fury to you much to your surprise as he added "both of you."

Your mouth fell open, shocked by the confusion apparent on your face as he continued, "Do I need to babysit both of you, because believe it or not, she's taking up a lot of my time. I really can't handle you getting flakey on me Jungkook, we need to know that you're safe,"

Jungkook looked down as he lectured, murmuring a small apology.

"And you" Yoongi turned to you, "That goes for you too, the Black Tips are still on your tail, I can't do much for you if you go running off,"

"Hyung," Jungkook hissed. "Not now, please."

Yoongi blinked at his younger in surprise, turning to you and making a point to really look at you, and take you in. Your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face, the way you seemed to lean into Jungkook. He recognized that far off look in your eyes like you had to concentrate on being present in the moment, and Yoongi remembered the warning in Hoseok's earlier message when he told him you had run out.

"Yeah, okay, get her home and come straight back when you're done, we still need to talk," he said dismissively. None of your questions were answered, but you didn't resist as Jungkook put a hand on your back and guided you towards a nearby car.

"Good night, princess," Yoongi called over his shoulder before closing the door behind him. Unlike with Jimin, you felt like you were being mocked when Yoongi called you that.

"Who was that, your brother, and why did he say he needs to babysit me?" you questioned as you both settled into the fine black vehicle the windows were so deeply tinted on the outside you wondered if it was safe to drive at night, but upon getting in the car, you noted that you could see through the windows clearly.

Jungkook waited until after he put the key in the ignition and backed out into the driveway before he started talking."That's Yoongi hyung or Suga, he's head of surveillance for BTS. He was the one who sent out a message to go escort you home when J– Hobi Hyung told him you were upset and left his apartment so late. I was on my way in that direction when I ran across you on our street," he said, breaking at a stop sign and turning on the blinker.

You looked out the window as you took in everything he's told you, noting that you were stopped again by the light pole you had a panic attack under. Suga was one of the original members in Hoseok's story. You thought to yourself as you connected the dots. Your head still felt a little foggy as you recovered from the literal mental breakdown. The sudden change of lighting earlier had started to make your head throb. You were ready for bed.

"Hobi sent people to look for me?" was all you could manage, not entirely understanding the emotions stirring in your chest.

"Well yeah, I mean, I was supposed to escort you home after work, and you kind changed plans, so we had to roll with them. I figured Hoseok would have taken you home after everything, so I didn't wait around. And then when Suga did send out the message I didn't notify them that I found you it was dumb on my part," he clarified.

You leaned onto the console between the two of you, propping your cheek upon your hand in a way that squished your lips into a slight pout. Jungkook tried not to stiffen as you got more in his space. Peeking down at you through his peripherals he saw your brow furrow as you processed everything.

"Why do you care?" you finally settled on asking as you still struggled to pinpoint why so many people would be worried about your safety.

Hoseok, you understood, to a certain extent, you even understood why he called in the favor. He knew your patterns and signs, you were probably shouting you were about to have an attack with your body language as you walked out the door. He knew he could never comfort you, not when he was the trigger. What you didn't understand was why BTS would listen.

"Because you're still not safe, and BTS took responsibility for your safety when I did," Jungkook said, simply turning to look at you as he stopped at a red light.

If you were in the right state of mind, such a comment would have triggered an immediate fight. You had been on your own for far too many years to suddenly need a whole gaggle of men to tend to you as if you were some helpless girl. You were a grown-ass woman. But you weren't yourself as you searched for a response in the fog of your mind.

"You're not responsible for anything about me?" you said softly as you shifted to rest your hand on your chin.

"Y/n what all did Hoseok hyung tell you?" Jungkook asked, confused, you weren't rejecting his protection, you just seemed oblivious. He assumed the cat was out of the back as soon as you learned what BTS was, who they were concerning you.

"Just how he joined BTS as how he ya know," you stuck your pointer finger and thumb in the air making soft 'pew pew' sounds. You couldn't bring yourself to talk seriously about the subject. Too much of this night had been severe for your liking.

"Y/n, you saved my life last week," Jungkook said, trying to look in your eyes and convey all his gratitude. You shifted under his stare.

"I wouldn't call it that," you murmured, turning away, "The lights green," you added flatly trying to turn his attention from you. He ignored you and placed a warm hand over yours.

"I would, and because of that, I and all of BTS owe you a life debt. We want to protect you as best as we can, especially since you're not totally safe from the guys you saved me from," he emphasized.

You looked up at him owlishly as you thought over everything he said. But whatever you were going to say died on your lips as a car honked its horn behind you. You both jumped startled, and the intensity of the moment evaporated slightly.

After a few moments of silence, you decided he didn't require a response. You can't imagine you would give a correct one anyways. You looked down at your hand, his larger one still resting atop your own and turned your wrist quickly and intertwining your fingers.

You rode in silence the rest of the way home, and you were fighting your eyelids as you pulled up to your complex.

Jungkook wondered if you always fell asleep in the car even with dangerous men. He wondered if that's why he never sees you take the bus at night.

"You really should consider living somewhere safer," Jungkook muttered under his breath as he shut off the engine.

You bit your tongue holding in several comments and gave a noncommittal 'mmm' as you unbuckled and stepped out the car to see he planned to walk you to your door again.

You grew embarrassed as you climbed the stairs and scrambled to think of parting words dwelling on everything Jungkook had done for you that night, "Thank you," you finally forced yourself to say. Jungkook looked down at you as you came to a halt in front of your door. "For earlier, with the crying and the counting," you offered awkwardly your eyes looking everywhere but his as you breached the sensitive topic.

"Oh, it wasn't a problem, really. I'm glad I could help" he laughed nervously, and you smiled, reaching for his hand before he could bring it to the back of his head, a nervous habit you were quickly picking up on him having.

"I'm serious Jungkook, a lot of people freak out and make the situation much worse for me, and I get it seeing someone crying like that it's never an easy thing to react to, but you did—" you hesitated as you searched for the right words, "You were good, comforting."

You didn't give yourself time to question it as you stood on your tiptoes, deciding to convey your gratitude in a way that your stuttering mouth wouldn't botch, and grazed a small peck aiming for his cheek. Unfortunately, the height difference and your own lack of balance had you landing more on his jawline. Jungkook gasped only slightly at the feeling of your soft lips on his jaw, the heat of your body radiating off of you in your nearness. You smiled at him again as you turned towards the door to unlock it.

"Haha yeah, happy to hear that," he responded, his voice crawling in pitch as he ordered his heart to beat, and you gave him another warm smile as you pushed open your door.

"Good night, Jungkook."

"Good night, Ella."

Jungkook's face split into a grin as you closed the door, a hand reaching for his jaw and pressing against where you kissed him as if it would simulate the feeling. His steps seemed to bounce as he made his way down the concrete stairs and back to his car.

A/N: Thanks so much for reading please tell me what you think! Your comments make me eager to write more :)

Pt.5 ->

#bts fic #jungkook x reader #bts mafia au #btsghostie #bangtanhq #btsbookclub #btsguild #bangtanscenery #bts gang au #gangster jungkook #gangster yoongi #gangaster taehyung #gangster hoseok #jungkook au #bestfriend hoseok #no harm list #crazy4myself fic #drug dealer teahyung #jungkook fluff

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thevioletjones · 3 years

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Congrats on the kudos, u deserve it! I did not undestand if I'm supposed to choose one of the lines for the prompt or if I have to combine two or more lines lol. But if it is to choose only one: number 5. If more than one: 5 and 45. *---*

Thank you! I used both. Great inspiration, actually. It spun out of control! 😀

Prompt 2: “How much of that did you hear?” + “Why are you helping me?”

Interloper

“Jesus, Iggy, I’m gonna fuckin’ murder you myself one of these days,” Mickey threatened in exasperation.

They were both leaning over, hands on knees, gasping for air, just having run full-speed for at least twelve blocks. The pillars beneath the L tracks were now providing the mild seclusion they needed to wait out a cursory police search of the area.

“Ain’t my fault!” Iggy exclaimed defensively.

Mickey’s face scrunched up to a degree that only his dumbest family members could make it reach. “Yes it fuckin’ was! Who else’s fault would it be?”

He’d always kind of wondered how he was the only one in his crap-ass family to be gifted with at least half a brain. Well, him and his younger sister, Mandy. She was alright. Skanky and crazy, but not a total idiot. He couldn’t say the same for his brothers, male cousins, father, uncle, etcetera. Mickey couldn’t even get his begrudgingly favorite brother to follow a simple goddamn plan that would’ve kept them out of trouble when they were out committing crimes. He was just gonna have to start doing everything himself. Safety in numbers didn’t apply when the other member of your team seemed to have been lobotomized when no one was paying attention. It was probably all the meth. Mickey was smart enough to stay away from that particular bullshit. Didn’t want to become a scabby, denture-wearing, toothpick skinny, low-life with no mind left to lose. He was content to stick to coke and weed like a normal person.

“That old bitch came outta nowhere! Self-defense!”

“It ain’t self-defense if you’re robbin’ the joint, numbnuts! We’re lucky you fuckin’ missed!”

If he had it his way, Mickey wouldn’t be doing these petty robberies anymore. He much preferred bigger jobs, like gun and drug running. But times were tough, and he had to do what he had to do. He’d even considered getting a legit job for once in his life, but the skills he possessed weren’t exactly easily adaptable to the straight and narrow path. Being a criminal was how he was raised, and all he knew. It brought heat, but it was still a comfortable fit. Living without the constant presence of major risk would probably feel so foreign as to drive him crazier than a meth addiction in the long run.

The job Mickey’d lined up involved hitting up a few different borderline upmarket stores that’d opened up in their neck of the woods since the gentrifiers had set upon The Yards, then selling the goods to a guy he knew in the online black market trade. Not as lucrative as heavy metal and funny powder, but a decent payday nonetheless. Except fuckface over here who had to ruin everything by getting trigger-happy on Main while they were attempting to heist merchandise from location number two of three. If the pigs nabbed either one of them, they’d be going down for at least five to ten. Years. Mickey was done donating years to the prison industrial complex. The most he could afford was months at best.

“When’d you turn into such a giant asshole?” asked Iggy. “Oh, nevermind, probly when you started gettin’ it railed on the reg.”

A giant smile stretched across his perpetually dirty face, causing Mickey’s eyebrows to lift dangerously high on his forehead. Occasionally, his dumber-than-rocks older brother managed to think up some admittedly clever asides. Mickey didn’t know whether to punch him or give him daps.

Before he could decide, however, he heard a distinct little snicker from the other side of the large concrete column they were leaning on, raising his hackles to invisibly join his eyebrows in their heightened incredulity.

Mickey hastily rounded the pillar and grabbed the giggler by the shirt collar, hauling him to their side and pinning him next to Iggy with his forearm. He looked into the guy’s eyes, and finally registered who it was. He kinda sorta knew him from around town. Used to hang out with his sister back in high school. He was a lot scrawnier then. This version of the dude could probably hold his own with Mickey in a fight. He’d built some definite muscle.

“How much of that did you hear, asshole?” Mickey demanded, seeing Iggy flash the gun in his waistband in his periphery.

This idiot didn’t look as rattled as he should be, though. He just shrugged his shoulders.

“Considering I was here first, I guess… all of it?”

He was wearing an annoying little smirk, his green-blue eyes shining bright, and his red hair distracting Mickey as much as the light dusting of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He had a stupidly ultra-defined chin, and Mickey immediately hated it. His chin hadn’t looked like that when he was a 15-year-old pipsqueak.

“Wipe that smile off your face, bitch,” ordered Mickey, pressing his arm harder against the guy’s pale throat. “You think this is fuckin’ funny? You know who we are?”

The guy shrugged again, like this was all a casual conversation on the corner. “Mickey.” He glanced at his dumb, blonde, curlicue brother. “And Iggy, right? I used to hang out with Mandy all the time. Have a good memory.”

“Yeah? Well I remember your goofy ass too, Gallagher. I know where you live and I know who your family is, so if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your big mouth shut or I’ll pick ‘em off one by one and save you for last. Got it?”

The dude snorted, and Mickey wondered if he was some kind of crazy tweaker with no sense of propriety or self-preservation.

“You outta your goddamn mind or somethin’?” Mickey added. “I ain’t jokin’.”

“Look, Gallaghers don’t snitch, alright?” He held his hands up placatingly. “I promise not to say shit to anyone. It’s none of my business, and I really don’t care. That good enough for you?”

Mickey loosened his hold, but sized him up all the while. “Maybe. But it’s possible you need a little lesson to remember it good. Wouldn't want you to forget about the consequences of you breakin’ your word.”

The dude winced and shoved Mickey off. “I don’t need a fucking beatdown, Mickey. I get it.”

“Ohhhh,” Mickey singsonged derisively, meeting Iggy’s gaze. “He gets it.” He thumbed his eyebrow. “Guess I’m just s’posed to believe you, huh?”

“That would be ideal, yeah.”

Mickey had to give it to him; he almost cracked a smile. The kid had balls. Most people around their neighborhood cowered before a Milkovich like spring lambs. Still, he lived by a code, and letting some rando walk away unscathed when he had dirt on him just didn’t fit the rules.

He cocked his fist back to knock it into tall, pale, and red’s pearly white teeth, just as the stunted siren of a cop car rang out very close by. Their collective heads all snapped toward the sound, and after sharing a meaningful look between brothers, Iggy took off running once again, without a word.

Normally, Mickey would’ve followed hot on his heels, but some unknown force was keeping his useless feet stuck to the dirty ground, eyes watching as Gingerballs glanced around the column at the flashing lights, taking a very long look that wasn’t suspicious at all.

Before he could react outwardly, Mickey was pulled against a hard body, Gallagher’s warm breath sending a shiver down his spine as he whispered, “Be cool. I got you.”

Suddenly, big hands were caressing Mickey’s back, and despite a part of him not minding in the least, the rest of him stiffened considerably.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasped out, hearing the telltale slam of a car door, and attempting to pull away. But a strong grip held him close, spinning him around so that he was the one up against the concrete now.

“Saving your thug ass. I know this guy, okay? Just chill and follow my lead.”

Okay, what the hell was this surreal turn of events? Gallagher was bold as shit, cradling Mickey all gay like. Sure, Iggy had made a fag joke earlier, kicking off this whole… whatever it was, but still. This guy had no way of knowing it was based in reality. Did he?

And had Gallagher really been gay this whole time? How had Mickey never sniffed this scorching information out?

“What’s going on here, boys?”

The copper rounded the corner, genuinely swinging his nightstick like a cartoon character, and Mickey had to suppress a deep roll of his eyes.

“Milkovich?” Mr. CPD continued, extreme disbelief coloring his voice.

Mickey was abruptly reminded that he was currently stuck between a rock and a hard body, and nothing about their entanglement screamed anything other than gay, gay, super-fucking-gay. Not that Mickey hadn’t come to accept who he was and what he liked, but he didn’t go around spreading the truth all over town either. This could seriously damage his carefully crafted reputation.

“Tony!” Ian interjected, sparing him from having to invent some lame excuse, and the cop’s eyes snapped to him instead.

“Ian?” His tone was still dripping with astonishment.

“Yeah! What's up? How you been?”

Mickey shot him an ‘are you goddamn serious right now?’ look, and Ian just squeezed his hip in tacit reply.

“Uhhh… gooood? Care to explain whatever…” he waved his stick between them, “this is?”

Ian laughed and he figured the dude truly was a nutcase. Mickey was going to jail for sure.

“Um, well,” answered Ian, suddenly playing it very meek and demure, “Mickey and I were just… you know…”

“You and… Mickey?”

“Not fucking or anything! Just... hanging out?”

“Hanging out.”

“Yeah, you know how it is. I’m tryin’ to convince Mick here to come home with me, but he’s being squirrelly.” He shook his head and shrugged. “South Side guys.”

“What the fuck?” Mickey whispered harshly, completely taken aback.

Ian just squeezed him tightly again, which was not helping his whole brain scramble situation.

“Huh,” said Tony, a tone of acceptance seeping in. “Mickey Milkovich, eh? Wow.”

“Come on, Tony. I don’t have to tell you this is all a big secret, do I?” replied Ian.

“And blondie who ran away like there was a damn fire? Did he flee a threesome?”

Mickey frowned and fake-wretched, finally speaking up. “Fuck no, man. That was my dumbass brother. He don’t like cops.”

“Uh huh. And you and your brother didn’t happen to be getting into trouble about 15 minutes ago, did you?”

“No sir,” Mickey said with a mock salute.

Ian kicked at his foot in warning.

“He’s been with me since like 3 o’clock, Tone. Scout’s honor.”

Officer Tony eyed them both with a look of skepticism, but didn’t contradict Ian’s word. The CB sounded from the open window of the black and white, with some cop-speak crackling over the airwaves.

“Stay put,” said Tony, eyes lingering longer on Mickey’s than Ian’s. “Both of you.”

He retreated to answer the radio call, and Mickey let out a deep whoosh of air.

“Goddamn, Gallagher. You’re spinnin’ quite a yarn here.”

“Yep,” Ian agreed. “A big gay yarn.”

“How the fuck did you know—”

“That you’re gay? Well, I heard Iggy make that joke, obviously. Pretty specific bottom joke to make if you weren’t actually into it. Plus, I always had my suspicions.”

Mickey scoffed. “Yeah fuckin’ right!”

“I did!”

“Whatever. Why are you helping me?”

“Out of the kindness of my heart?”

“Try again.”

“I don’t know. Why not? Makes us even or something. Now you know I won’t rat you out. About any of it. I wouldn’t out someone like that, and I don’t give a shit about the illegal crap you’re wrapped up in. Tony Markovich is like turbo gay too. Used to bang my sister, I think, but he came out a couple years ago. He won’t let it slip about you. He’s not a total bastard just cuz he’s a cop, ya know?”

Mickey bit his lip in contemplation. Gallagher seemed pretty genuine. Still didn’t much make sense in his brain, but whatever.

“Fine. But you know what’s gonna happen if—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, kick my ass, kill my family, got it.”

“You’re a cocky little shit, ain’t you?”

Ian smirked again, and it was pretty sexy, actually. “Maybe.”

He had the gall to push against Mickey more fully, pressing the bottom halves of their bodies closer together.

Mickey gasped. “Gonna have to ask you again… what the hell do you think you’re doin’?”

“You wanna go out sometime?”

Mickey cackled in his face. “You’re off your fuckin’ rocker for sure.”

“Am not! I can tell you want me.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ. Cocky little shit doesn’t even begin to cover it, does it?”

“Come onnnn,” Ian prodded.

“Do I look like I date, Gallagher?”

“A date can be whatever we want it to be, Milkovich. I’m easy.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

“Okay,” Tony interrupted, coming back into view. “Get the hell outta here. You wanna bang, do it indoors somewhere, or I’ll have to arrest you for public indecency or worse. And Milkovich… if I find any evidence of what I’m sure you know I’m talking about, I’ll be paying your ass a visit real soon.”

Mickey let the eyeroll loose then, withholding a flip of his middle finger, and deadpanning instead, “Don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, officer.”

Tony sighed loudly. “Whatever.”

“Thanks, Tony!” Ian cried at his retreating back.

“You always kiss cop ass like that? Cuz that’s not the way to get into my pants, Red.”

Ian just grinned, finally pulling his body away as he looked around. “You gonna follow me home or what?”

Mickey wanted to tell him to go fuck himself and swagger away like a badass. But was he not a thirsty man being propositioned by a hot guy who just randomly saved his ass from a trip to the slammer?

He at least feigned protest, huffing and puffing as he kicked at the dirt. “Goddamn it, Gallagher, you drive a hard bargain.”

Ian’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, as Mickey added, “Lead the way, weirdo.”

#ian x mickey #fanfic #gallavich #fanfiction #asks #answers

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hollyhomburg · 4 years

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Hey, I'm a liitle late to the packtan train but what do you think would happen when there is another female omega that becomes a friend to all of them but slowly starts to seperat the reader from the rest and maybe the beta and omegas realies this rather fast, bcus there omega is suddendly always smelling depressed but it takes a bit longer for the alphas, bcus they are really drown to the new omega. I really like your blog and love your creativity. Sorry for my english💜

oh, I absolutely love this idea like- Idk why I just go this kind of picture in my head of like- her just moving over for the new omega, like completely being like “they don’t want me anymore, best I better move on” but the thing is- it’s winter- and she really can’t go back into the woods right now because she has little to no resources saved up. so she decides to stick it out, and just deal with it, keeps her distance though.

and yeah, maybe they don’t notice, maybe she starts the distance in such a subtle way. yoongi sees her down by the edge of the frozen sea, she’s shivering and cold- not wearing the furs Jungkook gave her- a strange thing. he rushes down to the sea, a little alarmed to see her without her outerwear, “what are you doing!” he’ll yell, making her recoil, yanking her arm out of his grasp, “leave me alone” Yoongi’s standing in the sand, frozen like the ocean, wondering why you suddenly started acting so cold.

Things get worse, you get more distant, you start making yourself scarce at dinner times, and even after dinner when you usually all gather in namjoon and Seokjin’s private sitting room, with it’s wide and warm hearth, the furs in front so cozy and ready for group cuddling. not that you’d ever really been an active player, you’d been too skittish the first few times Seokjin had invited you- and it’s only recently that you’d begun to stay, sat on the side cozied into one of the chairs with a cup of something warm, you’d sat in Taehyungs lap a few times, combed through his curly hair with your fingers until he’d fallen asleep against your shoulder.

you’d even let Seokjin pull you into an omega cuddle puddle a few days ago. and the alphas had felt so accomplished, so protective looking down at the three of you all piled over each other, your flowery and citrus scents mixing to an intoxicating harmony. Here where their omegas, their prized loves, so gentle and delicate, strong- but sweetness in the cold world worth protecting.

Your cabin, by comparison, is cold and lonely- you don’t know when you got so used to people being around- but it’s better that way you tell yourself. you should have known that they would get tired of you eventually- get tired of the way you can’t get close like the other omega can, the way you’re bad at being affectionate, at showing you care. it’s your fault really, for getting so attached in barely a season. you’ll need to get used to being on your own again.

on the day everything breaks and reforms stronger you, Taehyung and Jungkook fight. they run into you when you’re picking up some bandages from the market, no matter how much you try to duck through the crowd and avoid them, they won’t stop following you. “I need to make sure I have enough, if i’m going to leave in the spring, I don’t know when I’ll have access to these again”

“what?” Taehyung almost shouts, stopping, Jungkook stumbling, “what do you mean when you leave in the spring? what are you talking about?” “Taehyung you couldn’t have expected me to stay forever,” and then the eventual fight, when you try to give Jungkook his furs back, they never should have been yours to begin with.

“Please- please keep them,” he says through his sobs, trying to hide his tears but not being able to, “it will make me feel better if I know you’re warm without us- without me,”

And of course, the fight leads to namjoon popping up at your cabin, it’s the middle of dinner- or what should be dinner, but if namjoon’s at your front door you know that the rest must not be eating

(and it’s true- they were too agitated to sit still, Hoseok pacing by the door while Jungkook refused to eat, pushing away the affection of Seokjin, Jimin trying too soothe both of the betas. “I knew something was wrong- I just knew it, I should have said something” Yoongi curses,

But Namjoon is the one to turn up at your door, stoic in his long black robes, but his face breaking the second he sees you, “why didn’t you come over for dinner?” “I didn’t know if I was welcome” “Y/n- you’ve been more than welcome- you’ve been wanted for the last half a year, you know that- why the sudden change?”

“Because I’m leaving soon- and it’s best if none of us get any ideas,” you say, talking more about your own fragile heart than any of theirs“I heard” namjoon swallows back a lump in his throat, and as much as he dosent want to be accusatory he can’t stop his words from sounding this way,

“Were you even going to tell us you were going to leave? or were you just going to disappear one day without a goodbye?” he hasn’t cried in a long time, but he feels tears sparking now. “please, don’t shut us out, tell us what's wrong- tell me what's wrong so that I can make it better,” “do you think we don’t care? because we do- I promise, I promise I care and if we’ve been bad at showing that- then-”

“I can’t- I can’t Namjoon, I can’t open myself up to you if I’m just going too lose you” you’re crying too- and all of a sudden it clicks, and he utters the name of the new young omega that had come to stay in the pack a few weeks back. young- almost like a pup, Seokjin and Taehyung had been particularly taken with her, spent a lot of time making sure she and her mother where comfortable. Namjoon had invited her to every dinner too- to make sure they’d both adjusted well to live so far north.

he’d treated her just like he had you when you’d first come to the compound.

shit.

namjoon doesn’t have to wait for your verbal confirmation, you stiffen and look away inhaling a jagged breath. but it’s your next words that really break namjoon, “I know I’m not enough”

He crosses into your threshold without a second thought, dragging you in close to his chest, to hold you close, and you sink into his thick furs, drinking in his rich scent, he scent marks along your shoulder, hands fisting in the back of your tunic, and when he parts, he takes off his thick robes and plops them on your shoulders, drowning you and pooling on the floor, too long for you to wear. namjoon shuts the door to keep away the chill and gets down on his knees.

the only time alphas ever kneel before omegas are during mating or betrothal ceremonies. you know this, even if you’d only seen it in person a few times in your life.

he speaks your first and last name, just as you whisper his, cheeks pinking, you have to clutch at the front of his furs to keep them from falling off your shoulders. the significance of it doesn’t escape you- it’s only- only the pack omegas get to wear the pack alphas furs. you’d only ever seen Seokjin and jimin wearing them- jimin only during the fall festival.

“I would like to formally offer you a place in my pack, and in my heart, now and forever. No matter what you decide, I want you in my home and in my life. will you accept my intention?” the words are old and almost too formal. he’d spoken the same ones to each member of his pack, and now you. your lower lip quivers. and you touch his face before you hug around his shoulders. “you’re enough, you’ve always been enough for me, always will be.”

you’re crying too hard to give a good response, but eventually, namjoon wipes the wetness from your face and leads you back to the packhouse, keeping his cloak firmly around you, a few people see- eyes widening and faces excited at what it means. a new pack omega means a spring festival after all.

he’s gentle, murmuring soft words, keeping his hand on the nape of your neck. nuzzlign into the top of your head every few steps unable to stop himself- his alpha loving how you smell like him with his furs. tugging them tighter around you when it starts to snow.

and of course, jimin and the others shoot up when the heavy doors open and you and namjoon slip in with a few snowflakes, jimin rushes to your side along with Seokjin to cup at your cheeks, the omegas are the first to notice the robes, tears in their eyes as you look up at them, beseeching almost worried- worried that they’d be territorial over namjoon- but they’re nothing but happy that you’ve accepted the cloak, and their proposal. “your cheeks are cold my love” jimin says, his warm palms on your cheeks, “come- let us warm you up- lets draw a bath jin”

namjoon clears his throat and everyone’s head snaps to him, “if you wouldn’t mind, i’d like to do it.” it’s another tradition- when a new omega arrives to a packhouse, arrives to stay/ they get washed and scent marked by each member of the pack so that they all smell like each other. everyone in the room smiles, soft and happy- realizing what this all means, that you’ve consented to be theirs.

washing is a whole affair, with soaps and of course namjoon’s tunic rolled to the elbows darkening and dampening in the water. kneeling over the edge of the basin, his hands slow and appreciative. yoongi muscles his way in to dry your hair and dress you in a shir that smells suspiciously like himself. he nuzzles your nose with his when you pop your head out of the opening. he yanks you close for a kiss, “mine, my baby” and you crumple, falling into his chest before he drags you into the main bedroom.

is it comfortable to sleep on the floor? not entirely, but the fire and the thick furs set on the floor and thick blanket set up makes up for it as well as the others all piled around. Hoseok is the first one who comes kneels by you- the same way namjoon did, the omegas clutch onto tae’s shoulders wiping away tears as they watch- so so happy.

hoseok’s eyes are bright but determined, “i know you don’t need protecting,” this temps a giggle from more than a few of you, “but i know you want it sometimes. you haven’t deserved what you’ve gotten in life, you haven’t deserved all that harshness, and if you let me- i will make sure you never have to be afraid again, I pledge myself to you, wolf, body and heart”

Jungkook is next, and he’s shakier, his bunny wide eyes so emploring. “I’m not good with words like the others, god knows I’m a baby alpha by anyone's standards,” the others laugh at this- and it’s true- barely a day goes by without Seokjin calling him ‘pup’ “but I hope I can grow into someone you’ll be proud to love, y/n, i pledge myself to you, wolf, body and heart.”

you drag Jungkook up to scent mark him whispering his name, the night is soft and gentle with the rough golden light of the wide hearth and all of you piled together in front of it, you end up presses in between Hoseok and namjoon. Hoseok around your back and namjoon- with his face pressed into the dipping collar of Yoongi’s shirt, nose buried in your soft skin. growling happily when your hands come up to comb through his hair.

halfway through the night, it gets a little warm, and namjoon tries to move away, and in your sleep, you reach out, making a little noise to pull him sleepily closer, and namjoon smiles soft, happy to get closer regardless of the heat. the winter might be cold outside, but in your heart, it’s warm.

(hope you enjoyed that 2k of fluff and angst~ this is easily the longest ask fic i think i’ve ever posted)

#ally22042000 #packtan #bts abo au #bts omegaverse au

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trials-by-blood · 4 years

Note

Umm...I always see Yautja being paired up with someone strong and skilled and stuff. I was wondering if you could write something with any Yautja being with someone who is shy, meek, and a little chubby. And when they're alone or think they are they sing along to music and dance even though they can't.XD Sorry if I'm asking too much or anything...

Fegris, the dump world where the unwanted are left to rot and crumble.

This was once a world where the yautja would crash their obsolete vessels so that they could not fall into use by the other space faring races. Ships were not the only things they left behind. Exiles, heretics, or anyone who upset the balance of their society were also left to wither, but not all did.

In the following ages, other peoples would use Fegris as a place to forget their burdens. The Faceless Ones unloaded their collected specimens here when science deemed that their time of usefulness had ended.

Now generations of humans, yautja, clade, mind eaters and all manner of invasive species build their cities here, clinging to half remembered mockeries of their mother cultures. Here, all Forgotten busy themselves mining ore, seeking pleasurable escape, stripping precious metals from ancient wrecks, gambling, farming, extorting, building, destroying, breeding, killing.

One of the few honest livings to be made anywhere, the food service industry, prospers here. Organic people must eat, so this work will never die.

Heather, an old name from an old world no one can recall, worked for her room and board at what would best resemble a mall food court. It wasn't a particularly hazardous occupation, so long as you don't taste-test the food or stay long after the coalition of retail outlets close.

(OOC: Okay this ran WAY longer than I anticipated and I had to make the choice to cap it off at 2,500ish words. I’m sorry if this TOTALLY misses the vibe you were hoping for, I kinda got carried away. Oops)

Once, she'd made that mistake. Even her cold hearted rock-sucker of a boss told her not to bother finishing the cleaning if it meant staying after hours, but she hadn't listened. Heather hadn't wanted to leave her work half done and risk losing her job and newly acquired living space on her first day. So she'd stayed to wipe down the counters and load the trolly cart with the leftovers for the cooler. The reward for a job well finished was stepping out into the market spaces abandoned by customers and workers but repopulated by the local Yautja Bad-bloods and their rivals, The Cranium Skaggers. They were working through a territorial dispute.

The Skaggers were human, but barely. They injected enhancement serums, most barely tested, directly into their brain tissues via an implanted port installed at the top of their shaved heads.

Heather had stepped out of her safe enclosed little work area into a street brawl, and was pinned between the doors she'd only just locked and the carnal violence of the city. One of the yautja, who's vision was... not like hers, must have mistaken her bright heat signature and rapid heart rhythm for a Cranium Skagger.

Oh, she tried to run when she saw him move on her with his unhuman, talon tipped hand outstretched to seize her. Heather had dropped her bag, the keys, the silly hat which matched with her uniform, and she ran but he was fast, so horridly fast for something so big, heavy, and grieved with bulky armor.

It only took him three strides, thud thud thud, to reach her and tangle his terrible claws into the back of her long tunic. She was thrown, landing hard, disoriented and crying out as deep, raw pain shot up her left hip and into her pelvis. Something was broken.

She saw him, her attacker, and the blades attached to his dominant arm glistening with the blood of Cranium Skagger's, but she didn't even think to cover her face. All she could do was scream for help.

Her plea was answered. A great clawed fist smashed across the Yautja's mask with such force that his yowling face was revealed as his helm was torn from him. Next, skulls collided with a clapping of flesh so sharp, Heather thought someone had cracked a whip above her.

One Yautja had begun to fight another. That was when she did the sensible thing, curling her arms over her head and making herself as small as she could.

She survived that night. That battle resolved itself as she lied on the ground trembling and weeping in terror, but her savior stuck around after all the others had left. He put her things next to her, and waited until her boss came to collect her and get her help. The yautja must have gone through her communicator for her contacts.

The fractured hip was easily and painlessly repaired but the procedure had completely drained her savings. To her shock and mild horror, someone had wired to her account credits in the exact amount to replace what she'd spent at the Urgent Intervention Facility to fix her leg.

When she returned to work, who was there at the food court? The yautja who'd stayed that night. He stood out like a broken finger, the cleaned hand bones and torn out skull ports of Skaggers littered about what he wore like grim badges of honor. The sight of him watching her enter her workplace sent a chill up Heather's spine.

This kept up for weeks, until The Indecent was months behind her. She'd go to work, and he'd be there, just watching. Heather's co-workers weren't fans of her admirer. Yagon, the young clade boy who took the morning shift before her was the least fond of the yautja lingering around.

Today, as Heather stepped past her bad-blood observer who had decided to lean against the wall next to the employee entrance, Yagon was peeking out from the door to keep a watchful eye on her as she came in for her shift.

Yagon chittered irritably, antennae vibrating as he took off his smock and hat so he could scratch his double claws at the translator hanging on a lanyard around his the joining of his head and thorax.

The voice emanating from the little box was monotone and purposefully slow so that it could be heard clearly as he continued chirping and tweeting.

"You know what that creep does all day waiting for you to come in? He listens to recordings of you singing on your shifts."

Heather cringed. That was creepy. She'd had a feeling that he'd been able to hear her sing to herself from where he usually hung around, but she never thought he'd record her. It felt incredibly invasive. She briefly imagined confronting him about it, but thought better of it. He could crush her skull between his hands as if it were a brittle little Skitterling egg. She hunched her shoulders and hugged herself a bit.

Yagon then turned and dropped the claws of his primary arms on her shoulders.

"I can file an anonymous report for you. Please? I don't want to come in to work one day and find out something happened to you."

Heather sighed, trying not to vividly imagine how an exiled yautja might retaliate to that.

"N- no, I think that would just make things worse, Yagon," Heather tried not to whimper.

Yagon finished folding his smock and hat into his bag and left, but not before offering twice more to file that report.

A few hours passed and Heather caught herself singing a handful of times as she fell into her work routine but always stopped when she remembered who was listening. It felt awful, being observed so closely and denied the personal freedom do anything without fear of having it recorded for some stranger's entertainment.

Again, she thought about confronting the yautja watcher, but couldn't help the violent catastrophes imagined with the idea.

She felt like she couldn't make a noise or do a thing for herself to make this crappy job the least bit bearable without putting on some bizarre show for Captain Cranium Crusher out there! Heather's frustration built and built until she couldn't take it anymore.

The walk-in cooler. It was sound proof, right? The moment she finished the lunch-rush line of customers holding out their trays for their greasy food, Heather tore off her gloves, tossed them in the general direction of the trash chute and turned on her heel to stomp her way to that cooler door.

Heather glanced over the counter to confirm the Skull Collecting Jerk was still out there haunting the seating area. There he was, arms crossed against his chiseled chest, ass planted on a chair that could barely hold his weight with his big ugly sandled feet propped up on one of the tables. Bastard.

She pulled open the thick insulated door and slammed it behind her. First she simply bellowed angrily, stomped her foot, slapped a bag of single serve condiments as hard as she could manage, doing anything to break the severe edge from her frustration.

"UGH! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!" She tore off her work smock and threw her hat on the floor to stomp on it, "I'M JUST A SHORT, ROUND, NOBODY WHO SHOVELS SLOP ONTO PLATES SIX HOURS A DAY. I'VE NEVER EVEN BEEN IN A REAL FIGHT! I'M NOTHING! WHY ARE YOU WATCHING ME? WHAT THE FUCK COULD BE SO INTERESTING ABOUT ME?! STOP WATCHING ME, YOU ASSHOLE!"

Then, spitefully, she sang her favorite song, watching the misty puffs of her breath dissipate as her heart pounded.

Now, she felt cold and her throat hurt from belting out her very favorite lyrics so harshly. It wasn't fair, she shouldn't have to be reminded of that night every afternoon on her shift. It sucked, and somehow she felt guilty for being angry even though none of this was her fault and she knew she had every right to be angry. So Heather curled up and cried in the cooler for a half-hour at the helplessness she felt. It felt gross, and she knew by now there had to be a never-ending line of pissed off customers outside. She was afraid of confrontation and couldn't ever imagine herself actually standing up to anyone. She could already tell that she'd be crying in her apartment after work too. Whob wouldn't after the verbal abuse she'd no doubt suffer at the service counter from customers tired of waiting.

Miserably, Heather stood and steeled her resolve to go back out there. With a deep, shaky breath, put her smock back on and fixed her hat.

"I'll get through it because I'm good at getting through it," she told herself to make it easier to reach for that door.

Chur-clunk. Chur-clunk. It was jammed. Oh no the cooler door was stuck. Heather put her weight into her next push, then her entire being into the push after that.

"Oh GODS I'm going to freeze to death!" she wailed, pushing at the door again with everything she had.

Frustration, anger, helplessness, now panic. She didn't want to die alone of hypothermia at work.

There was a bang and a great dent had appeared in the thick door. Before she could figure what was happening, the door was torn completely from the reinforced hinges. Heather shrieked and fell squarely on her bottom.

There he was again, who else would it be coming to her rescue and staring coldly down at her through the dead lenses of that helmet.

In one swift motion he lifted his left arm and clicked away at the keys of his gauntlet computer with those claws. The hologram display showed Heather a collection of files marked with icons she recognized. They were just cropped, slightly fuzzy pictures of her name tag for work. With a few more taps of his claw, all of the icons dissolved. He deleted them. He'd deleted all of his recordings which pertained to her.

"Oh, shit, you heard all of that," Heather whimpered, clutching her head with both hands in mortification. He must have heard what Yagon said earlier too.

He said nothing, made no noise. He just stood there like an imposing statue for a few tense seconds before turning to stride away.

She wasn't fired for the broken door and spoiled food. Before she could even collect herself from the floor in the cooler, her boss was wired a credit transfer for "damages".

Later as she heard of his generosity, it also explained the mysterious funds appearing in her account after the hip procedure. That had been Him too.

Her "admirer" didn't come back after that, which was a relief for the first week or two. After a while she found herself over thinking the whole thing. Yautja were notorious for being socially incomprehensible. Heather wondered if he just pitied her so much after one of his own kind damn-near destroyed her that he felt responsible for her continued safety. Or, maybe he was just a stalking sleeze-ball. She tended to flounder between the two conclusions, but one thing was certain, he was respecting her boundaries now and she appreciated that.

After nearly a month, she decided that the best closure she'd get was accepting that the entire ordeal was some bizarre misunderstanding, totally on his part, and he did a few nice things but that didn't make up for the weeks and weeks of discomfort he'd inflicted.

More time passed, Heather became more comfortable with her new job, and she very nearly forgot about that Yautja. The only time she remembered him were on cold days when her hip would ache, but it was pleasantly warm out on the afternoon she came in for her shift and found Yagon agitated with his antennae twitching so fast one might expect them to fly off his head. Heather looked around, hoping that the cleaning she couldn't finish the night before hadn't upset him. What she found was... Unusual, and she certainly hadn't left the thing there last night.

It was a skull, from what she wasn't sure, sitting there on the counter by the check out scanner.

"The Creep is back. This time he left a name with that." Yagon's translator couldn't read the inflections in his speech, but Heather could tell where the translator omitted expletives.

"W-hat was it? His name?"

"Stone Fist was the direct translation. I can't get the translator to say the correct pronunciation in his language and he made a scene about it until I threatened to call security. You know what that thing means, don't you?"

Heather nodded, she knew what it meant. Everyone did. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the empty sockets of the skull. It was as if it were staring through her being.

"I can still file that report, Heather," Yagon offered again.

"Don't, I mean... As long as I don't take it, then nothing happens. Right?"

"As far as I'm aware? I think that's how it works."

If Heather didn't touch it, he wouldn't come back. If she took it home, he'd follow her home because accepting an offering like that was an act of giving permission to pursue courtship.

Working with that lifeless skull watching her was eerie to say the least. She covered it with her hat midway through her shift so she didn't have to look at it. At the end of her shift as she fiddled with the patterned key to lock up before she left, she considered the skull one last time. No, She wasn't taking it, but she'd leave a note. Two notes actually, one to ask Stone Fist if he would consider an actual conversation before anything else, and a second note to apologize to Yagon for asking him to speak with Stone Fist again.

To Be Continued?

#yautja #predator #human/predator #alien vs predator #ask

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themousefromfantasyland · 3 years

Text

The Yule Man (1/7)

As told by ME

This was meant to be a short story, but it became too big, so I separated it in seven parts. I want to turn my blog in a space where I can share my writting every once and a while.

This is the first time I post one of my stories on a public space. This is the first time anyone besides my sister will be able to read, so I'm pretty exciting and anxious. I want honest criticism. I hope you all enjoy it.

"It's he who brings the Yule ice and snow to Arnsberg." The little girl said.

Everything seemed somehow brighter and warmer on that peaceful afternoon.

The lines of holly hanged above the walls and windows gave an otherworld feel to the street. The jingle of the bells of the market down the avenue helped to remind how happiness sounded like. Silver bells adorned the rooftops. The traditional statues of silver stood on the churches’ terrains.

They promised that the Silver God would once again bless his holy season. The store windows promised an affable and cozy night. That was not what that beggar boy received.

The confectionery attendant shoved him away with all scorn and disdain possible in a man. Why did he should show him kindness? The boy couldn't pay, and he was so filthy dressed he would drive customers away. And as he said beneath his breath while coming back to the store:

"Magic only brings trouble."

Mia Hayek and her baby sister were stepping in their carriage when they saw the scene. The poor young man looked at the sweets in the windows of the confectionery with so much craving. He looked as if he hadn't eaten anything in a long time.

She took out her long wide hat and her cotton scarf and asked her sister if she knew that boy. The little girl, with all sincerity that a child is capable off, responded.

He had a slender and thin body, but the enormous, hooded fur coat worn swallowed it completely. He carried a huge bag of shabby cloth against his back. The fur hood and the cloth around his lower face made it hard to give him an age. Mia was sure he couldn't be older than twenty.

Everyone in Arnsberg knew the boy. Always seen wandering without destination in the Solstice Eve carrying that stained bag. He arrives in town no sooner than the first snow. He stays for the twelve days of the Yule Festival, then he disappears. And no one can find him before the next one.

Mia saw him in the last year. He lived near the park in front of the bakery. The baker shoved him away as if he was a stray dog. He has not changed a thing from then.

"He never changes." Sophia mindlessly added. "Even mother remembers him from her time. He never changes."

Mia stared at the boy. Ragged and disheveled. Time had devoured those clothes, tattered and grimy as they looked.

"Is he magical?" Mia asked.

"Yeah!" Her little sister nodded. "But he can only bring the snow, he can't control it. He's harmless."

"Stay here!" She told her.

Mia stepped out of the carriage and walked in the direction of the boy as fast as her boots allowed. Noticing being followed, he turned. She stopped in the spot.

The hood obscured his face. He maintained his back bended, and he avoided looking into her eyes. By the way he stayed quiet, she knew he was nervous. People dressed like her usually didn't had nice things to say to people dressed like him.

"You're beautiful!" He whispered to himself, hoping only he listened.

She smiled back.

"Thank you!"

She heard and he could only blush in response.

"Sorry, but I always see you around here during this time." She began saying while messing with her curly hair. "The town can get pretty cold. Do you have where to pass the night."

The boy chuckled, and she could see a vague spark in his eyes.

"The cold never bothered me anyway, madam."

"What do you carry with you?" She came forward and touched his long bag. It felt so freezing that she immediately withdrew as by sheer impulse.

He lowered the cloth that covered his face and looked up to her, allowing Mia to take a deep look.

"I... I should already release this thing, but... I got distracted. I wanted to find something to eat first, so..." He sounded so nervous, trying so hard to justify himself, as if fearing punishment.

His face was pale and soft, still with signs of boyhood. His eyes were big and innocent, in bright green. His beard was as red as a fox, and it was shaggy and full of pieces of ice.

"...and now I don't know where to release this stuff."

"Do you have where to spend the holidays?" She interrupted him.

"No." He answered embarrassed.

The question really pierced through him. She saw how it affected him in the wrong way. A second question slipped through her mouth before she could have time to re-evaluate it.

"Do you found somewhere to eat?"

He didn't respond.

She drew his hands, letting his bag land on the ground. It surprised her how soft and warm they were.

"Stay the Yule with us."

Mia could just have brought him food and then forget anything about him in the next day. Any normal person would do that. Maybe she felt a genuine urge to help him. Maybe her pity for him spoke louder. Perhaps she found him too adorable to let go. Whatever the real reason may be, something drew her to him.

"My father is wealthy, but generous. I'm sure he'll allowed it."

He smiled to her by a second, as if he loved the idea, but then he frowned, as if he remembered something.

"I'm sorry. You have been very kind, but I can't."

"Please!" She insisted, her voice cracking a little. "You can't spend the Yule in the streets and in the cold."

""I already used to it."

He forced a sly grin, as if trying to tranquilize her. He continued. "I'm sure you mean well, but it's better that I stay here."

"Our mansion is always open to those who need it, and you'll be well treated there."

"A mansion?" He frowned.

"My father is Mr. Hayek. My name is Mia Angela Hayek. Ravi de vous rencontrer." She greeted him with the dress.

"Never heard of him." He joked.

"Please, stay with us. We...

"Is it comfy..."

"What?" She asked surprised.

He spoke in a tone that made her think of a timid small boy.

"Your mansion. Is it comfy and cozy? That's how I always picture these places to be." He didn't want her to see he smiled.

"Of course." She nodded.

"Does it have a fireplace?"

"Yes. You can drink hot cocoa by it and eat some gingerbread cookies if you want."

"I never eat a gingerbread cookie."

"You can eat all sweets you wish. The kitchen has smelled wonderful since morning. My father is giving a big ball tonight. It will be so full of cakes and sweets. It will make even the most illustrious confectioneries envious."

Mia saw how much the idea pleased him, how much it tempted him to say yes. Yet, something held him back.

Against his better judgment, he said:

"Okay."

The air grew colder on that moment. The winter breeze brought chills down her spine. Whatever it was, the boy felt it too.

"But just for one night." He soon added.

"What's your name?"

"I don't have one." He said while pulling back his bag.

She tilted her head.

"How come you have no name?"

"Never needed one."

James Hayek had all the reasons to be jolly during the holidays. This son of immigrants became the most important merchant in all the North Kingdom. The Hayeks were the wealthiest mixed family in Arnsberg. This filled him with pride, but also a deep sentiment of duty. As a child of Arnsberg by heart he felt as his duty to retribute all his good luck back to the community.

The Hayek Mansion was a charming building located near the road down to Arnsberg, far close to the forest. Mr. Hayek certified himself that its doors would be forever open to the town that welcomed him.

It was the Solstice Eve. Tomorrow the Yule Festival would begin, twelve days of tradition and merriment. A gigantic fir-tree of nine meters was brought to the mansion's courtyard. The servants of the Hayek family surrounded its needles with all sorts of ornaments. They garnished the Yule Tree with silver, gold, and all kinds of jewelry. On its top, the Solstice Sun ornament promised to shine brighter than the real one. Not even Queen Ava's tree in the Royal Palace was as beautiful as the one who stood now in the Hayek Mansion.

Dozens of statues of goats surrounded the tree, all carefully made of pure straw. A somewhat forgotten tradition that Mr. Hayek couldn't let go in any capacity.

Two full tables had been already set. Roast turkeys and ducks, steamed hams and caramelized cods covered the first table.

The second table looked like a small child's fever dream. Colorful palaces of gelatin and chocolate sprinkled with sugar. Snowy towns and castles of gingerbread covered with white marzipan. Fountains and rivers flowing with chocolate. Towers of cakes and pies. Mountain chains of pudding with nuts and chestnuts boulders. It had enough to maddening the youth.

When Mia and Sophia arrived at the Hayek residence, the Yule Log had been already tossed into the fire. Both her and her sister helped the fur-cladded boy stepped out of the carriage. No sooner they crossed the golden gates, the servants already whispered between themselves. They couldn't help but gaze at the peculiar young man with awe and curiosity.

As soon as the girls walked upon the carpet in the living room, their parents rushed to speak to them. When Mr. Hayek first heard the news, he had to come to see it by himself.

"You brought the Yule Man?" He gave a strong laughter that came straight from the bottom of his belly.

The boy didn't know how to react, so he stepped behind the sisters and gave him an awkward smile.

Mr. Hayek was a cheerful and youthful old man. Mrs. Hayek could be the proudest woman the world has ever seen. She fitted the role of the women who dressed to show the world her social status. Her blue eyes had troubles showing affection. Her corn-like hair was stylized in the same way as the fashion magazines. Meticulously armed.

She approached Mia to talk in particular.

"You should be getting dressed." She spoke with veiled bitterness.

Mia tried her best to argue back.

"Sorry mother, I was doing shopping when..."

Her mother definitely didn't want to know. She twisted her eyebrows and said:

"Why are you so irresponsible. I'm tired of sorries. And what are you wearing for the gods' sake" She started yelling.

Mia swallowed her mother's sermons with her best poker face. Since she was a child, she knew how harsh Mrs. Hayek's criticism could be. Nothing different from the woman that searched for defects in everything.

"You know how this night is important. It's your first ball. My daughter shouldn't look like a hag." She took a pause to breath. "Go get dressed!"

Sophia came forward.

"Can the Yule Man spend the Yule with us?" She asked with manipulative eyes.

"You can't bring him here." She whispered while offering a false smile to greet the newcomer boy.

Fritz and Thomas, Sophia's elder brothers, looked at him with intense curiosity.

"Magic always leads to trouble." She put.

"Mother, he needs us." Mia shot back. "Besides not aging, there's not that much he can do. He is harmless."

"Mia, can you stop arguing..." Her mother tried to shut her down as she always did.

Mia had other plans.

"Father..." She turned to Mr. Hayek. "This is the true Yule Man. You can show him to the town's children tonight.

"I like children." His tiny voiced ricocheted off the living room walls. They turned to face him.

"They are nice to me." He said in a small tone behind them.

They almost had forgot he was still there.

"My dear, I don't know..." Mr. Hayek gazed at his unhappy wife.

"Remember when you were young and poor, and they chased you off that department store." She pointed to the boy. “They shoved him out of the confectionery as if he were nothing. He doesn't have where to spend the Yule days. He never had."

Mr. Hayek grew quiet. Not everyone had been nice to him. The way he looked had closed a lot of doors before. He promised to never take part in any judgment by appearances.

"You win." He winked at her. "Okay. Welcome to our Yule party Mr. Yule Man.

The boy looked at Mrs. Hayek. He saw her eyes steaming.

The guest started appearing around the evening. The parties in the Hayek Mansion always yielded weeks of conversation and gossip. They were more accessible than official public events. Open to everyone who wanted to participate. Thanks to that Mr. Hayek received the charming nickname of the "Father of the Poor." from his enemies. He liked it.

In her bedchamber, Mia wore a ballgown that had the color of the winter night sky. A low busted and short sleeved gown that drew attention to her silhouette. It was richly embroidered with snowflake patterns that surrounded her skirt. A delicate bow tied her curly brown hair back, drawing attention to her delicate face. Her strong red lipstick contrasted quite well with her light-brown skin tone.

When she went down the staircase. She gasped at how beautiful her house looked. Decks of holly, ivy and winter roses scattered everywhere. When the Yule Man saw her, he gasped at how beautiful she looked. He raced to her, still with his bag.

"Why are you still wearing this thing?" She pressed her lips together. She sounded just as her mother.

"Sorry If I was too rude. Do you like it?"

"No. No. I don't like this thing at all." He chuckled while eating a huge piece of marzipan with his free hand.

"So, why do you wear it?"

"As if I had a choice." He smirked.

He had finished his attack on the table of sweets. His mouth still was stained with sugar and chocolate. She noticed he had pockets in his suit, because they were full of gingerbread cookies and pieces of cake. The corners of her mouth lifted a smile as soon as she realized it.

When they arrived at the courtyard, the guests already crowded the place. The music had begun. The youthful couples already waltzed together amid the chatter of their families. That scene never failed to fill Mia's eyes, and now she could be officially a part of it. Her first ball as a woman.

She saw her mother approaching.

"What are you wearing." She yelled in her lowest tone.

Mia stood in her defensive position.

"Mother, you promised I could pick my own dress."

Mrs. Hayek exhaled.

"Yeah, I did. You look beautiful."

Mia smiled in relief.

"You too mother."

"You look perfect, and it's Yule, but don't exaggerate on the food." She laughed. "You know how the woman in our family have problems with weight."

Mia forced a yellow smile as a good daughter. As soon as her mother departed, the boy tried to cheer her.

"That was close. You survived the attack of the amazing shrew. Good job."

Mia laughed out loud. He felt proud with himself.

The children on the place couldn't stop looking at him with amazement. She turned to him.

"You don't really have a name?"

His smile disappeared.

"No."

He tried to physically walk out of that social interaction. She followed him.

"Do you at least have parents or relatives?"

He spent a couple seconds thinking.

"I don't know. I believe that I don't."

"Where you go when you aren't in Arnsberg? Do you visit other cities?"

"I prefer not to think about that." He said as politely as he could.

"Can I ask about the bag?" She joked.

He handled the bag over to the other hand.

"Nope!"

He really didn't like the direction of that conversation.

"Can I least ask you about the beard? Do you like it?"

He stopped. He looked at her.

"Not even a little." He laughed. "It's shaggy, it scratches, and it annoys me so much."

"Why you don't shave it?"

"As if I had a choice."

That was getting on her nerves.

"Why wouldn't you have a choice?"

He looked deep into her eyes.

"Because only real people have a choice."

On that same moment, a man wearing a red fur cloak and carrying a sack full of toys and stepped out of the servant’s door. The children gasped and cheered his presence and rushed in his direction. The adults were left amazed. Santa Claus had arrived. By his side, a very tall man came closer, wearing a wooden goat mask and wearing a very thick coat. On his hand he carried birch branches. The children surrounded them in seconds. The Goat-masked man asked in his spookiest voice if they had been nice or naughty that year. Santa had already start delivering the presents to all the children.

Mia nudged him.

"It's my father. He lives by the Yule Festival." She boasted. "He loves to dress like Santa. He's the only black St. Nick in the town."

"I find funny how you always seem to agree that he's an old fat man in red."

He left her confused.

"Excuse me."

"St. Nicholas is way younger than that. And he drinks." He chuckled. "A lot."

She tilted her head and frowned.

"How can you tell? No one can see him."

He stayed quiet.

"Do you know the real Santa?"

He broke the silence.

"He's a good man. He's nice to me. The Yule Goat is bad. He's very bad. He beats children."

He nodded to the goat masked man. Mia saw that it unsettled him a bit.

"Calm down. It's just Edgar, our butler. He likes to scare kids, so every year he dresses like the Yule Goat."

All the kids after receiving their presents ran to his side. Mr. Hayek as the jolly saint came closer to Mia at said in direction of the young man:

"This man..." He certified himself to be heard by everyone. "...is the Yule Man. Today he will show us the magic of the Yuletide season."

The crowd turned and stared at him in intensity. The typical hypocrisy of mortals: They fear magic but can't lose a chance to see it close. The boy himself stayed quiet as a mouse in his spot.

Mia asked in his ear:

"Crowds make you nervous"

"Yep" He almost couldn't be heard.

"I realized."

He walked to the center of the courtyard without saying no more words. Near the fir-tree he tossed his bag on the ground. Mia attended all that closely.

He pulled the knot that tighten the bag closed and opened it. A single snowflake came out first. It flew like a white butterfly in the direction of the wind. Calm, gentle, beautiful. It shimmered like nothing else. Some of the children ran after it and tried to catch. A second came out, and third, and a fourth. The snowflakes then burst out of the bag, billions of them. Small bright crystals that looked more like pixie dust.

He opened his arms and allowed the endless wave of light blast off and fill the skies. The crowd clapped and cheered in a mad frenzy. Mr. Hayek couldn't believe his eyes.

Mia stood there, speechless. The sight took all her ability to think properly.

The Yule Man closed his eyes. He shook both hands together as quick as he could. The bright outburst ceased. The bag dissolved in icicles. As if the world's largest swarm, they dashed up, up into the sky, while the snow started to fall.

He turned back to them.

"And this...This is how the Yule snow comes to Arnsberg."

The crowd clapped in pure ecstasy. He exhaled relieved.

The kids chased him. The adults had troubles understanding what happened. Mia stayed quiet in her thoughts processing everything.

The north wind blew over them all. The boy felt the message sent to him down to his bones. A dark figure appeared in the corner. He knew there were consequences to be dealt with.

Mia searched for him when he appeared and shook her hand.

"I'm grateful for everything..." He started. "... but St. Nicholas saw me. I already violated too many rules."

And he ran away.

"What!"

She stayed behind, left speechless again.

Mia marched to her parents close to the mansion's entrance.

"Father, what did you said to him?"

She took Mr. Hayek by surprise.

"Nothing, I..."

Sophia stopped playing with the other girls and their new toys and walked to them.

"It was not him. It was the real Santa.

"Hey!" His heart broke. He said visibly offended. "How long do you know I am not..."

Mia interrupted him.

"Sophia, why are you talking about?"

"St. Nicholas came here to talk to him."

"How I didn't see him?"

She responded with such innocence that terrified Mia.

"He's invisible to you."

Mia rushed back inside and searched for him everywhere. She found him when he was getting nearer the front gate.

"Why did you leave?" She approached him behind pulled him by the arm. You said you would spend the night here."

"I can't. I simply can't. St. Nicholas talked to me...

"Santa? Santa threatened you?"

"No. St. Nicholas is nice to me." He argued. "Only a few like him are. The North Wind brought him here. He told him how I was breaking the rules. Different from him, I can be seen by mortals. He thinks it's not wise for me to get too close to them, to you."

He paused as soon as he realized how that sentence could be interpreted.

"To you guys, the mortals, your family." The awkwardness possessed his body.

Her forehead furrowed while pressing her lips together.

"What are the rules?"

He scratched his head and lowered it down.

"I arrive to Arnsberg by the first light of the Solstice Eve. I must leave before the first light after the Yule days are over."

Her expression lightened.

"So, you can spend the festival with us."

"Do you even listen to me?" He cried out loud.

She placed her hands over his shoulder.

"Listen, you will not violate any rules. As long as you left..." She gesticulated for him to continue it.

"Before the first light after the Yule days are over." He added.

"I know you liked here. So, what do you say.”?

"Mia, I can't."

She raised her voice.

"So, they want you to spend the holidays in the street?"

"I don't have a choice." His jaw clenched and he shut his eyes.

She drew him closer.

"Yeah, you do."

That simple phrase teared down his walls. He no longer felt the ground under his feet. His eyes teared up.

"Do you really believe that." He said in a cry voice.

She struggled to look him in the eyes now.

"I do." She smiled to him.

He closed his eyes.

"Okay, I will spend the Yule Festival with you."

He heard the wind blowing outside. A very bad omen indeed. For some Mia sensed butterflies on her stomach. She felt a sweet taste in her mouth. Something sweet and warm inside her chest.

"Okay, I will ask Edgar to lead you to the Guest room."

He shook his head.

"It isn't necessary. I hate giving people trouble. I can sleep anywhere."

She raised her eyebrows.

"But you need a name. Can I call you Christopher? I always found a beautiful name."

"Yeah, you can." His eyes twinkled while the corners of his mouth quickly turned up.

She stepped closer.

"Happy Yuletide, Chris!"

#christmas #holiday season #yuletide #my writting #writters on tumblr #my story #winter solstice #The Yule Man

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storydays · 3 years

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Chapter 1: The Adventure Begins p1

The elven king, Xaius stands on the parapet of a great citadel overlooking a massive, smoldering battlefield. "Archers! Fire on my signal! Catapults! Hold for the next wave!" He turned to give an order, when a hideous creature, a gargoyle made of twisting shadow, swoops in toward him. Xaius reaches for his sword,as a blast of light catches the gargoyle in the side, blowing it into nothingness. The king turned to see his second-in-command, the battle mage Ellara, approaching with a gentle smile. "It looked like you needed a hand, my love" "I had it handled. What's your status?" Xaius asked.

"The Shadow forces are many, but they're weak. Our front lines are driving them back. " The elvlen woman smiled wearily. "I-I can't believe it..but we might actually win this th--" She gasped hearing a thunderous roar in the distance. "Gods above...it's the DreadLord! Those madmen actually summoned the DreadLord." Xaius gasped, but looked down to see Ellara's gentle but firm grip. "My love, what do we do?" She whispered. Xaius turned to her, eyes sparkling, his face hard and stoic. "We fight. We die. And we pray that some day, a hero will rise to avenge us..someday."

*Two thousand years later*

In a quaint little tavern in the town of Riverbend, a grinning pair of brothers downed their drinks, as the younger continued telling one of his favorite stories."So what happened next?" chuckled a 21 year old Ezra. His white hair had now grown down to his bottom but he kept it in a braid that hung around his shoulder, bangs brushed to the left side of his face, covering his birthmark, but allowed his gold eyes to peek out. He set down his mug of wine, and locked eyes with his brother across the table.

"The Dreadlord strode down the battlefield, boom,boom BOOM! And then--" His brother was cut off by the grumpy bartender. "We've been hearing this story for years, Kade. The Dreadlord attacked and destroyed the great elven empire." He stated, wiping down a nearby table. Kade scoffed. "Well, yeah, that's the short version....but you don't have the flair for storytelling that I do." Kade crossed his arms and pouted like a child, instead of the 16 year old he was.

Ezra leaned back in his seat, and looked around. They were sitting at their favorite table in the Dancing Pig Tavern, listening to his brother tell another story. 'It's crazy to think that 10 years ago, we were watching over Kade through his sickness...now he's here telling tall tales like those books he likes to read.' Kade and Ezra weren't only brothers, but they were also best friends. Kade was well known through Riverbend but not everyone was as easily amused as the elf was. Kade blended in well with the humans, with his short brown hair, bright green eyes, and freckles splashed across his face, while Ezra stuck out like a sore thumb.

Ezra tuned back into the conversation to hear: "I don't care how well you spin your tales! You still need to pay for your drink." The bartender gruffed at the smaller human. "Barkeep, you wound me." Kade huffed, his mood darkening slightly. Chuckling, Ezra paid his half of the tab and gave the younger a look. "Pay up, Kade. Mother taught us better than that." He stated seriously. "You too, Ezra? I swear, no one in this town appreciates the value of a good tale! Fine, I'll pay. But we're not coming back here!" Kade cried dramatically.

"Yes we are." Ezra and the bartender laughed louder when Kade added at the end, "Well, not tonight at least!" Ezra downed his wine and Kade finished his soda, before paying his side of the tab, and the two left the bar for the night. Ezra looked around their humble village before letting out a long sigh. "Another night in Riverbend. Same as any other." He mumbled gloomily. "That's not true. Some nights I manage to get us free drinks." Ezra barked a laugh before shoving his brother playfully, unable to stay gloomy around his brother.

"You know what I'm--" Ezra's sentence was cut off when he bumped into a tall human heading towards the outskirts of the village. "Hey, watch it!" "Ugh, sorry 'bout that." Ezra stepped back, eyeing the person in front of him. He was a rugged looking man with tanned skin,wavy shoulder length brown hair, glowering brown eyes, and he had a scar on his left eyebrow. He was wearing a cream long sleeved shirt, shoulder guards, wrist gauntlets, green cargo like pants, with a dagger on his left hip.

"Who're you?"Ezra asked, while the man retorted, " None of your business, that's who." Two people that the elf did recognize followed the handsome man. Town Constable Angus and his tough as nails apprentice Grenn. "This here's Mal Volari, from Whitetower." The elder man explained. "He's a world-famous adventurer!" Grenn grinned. "Wait, really?" Kade asked shocked. "Well..I wouldn't say world famous, more like continent-famous really." Mal snickered to himself.

"Well, it's nice to meet you." Ezra said, minding his manners. His poor mother would be rolling in her grave if he didn't at least pretend to be nice. "Yeah, great, nice to meet you too. Now if you don't mind, we've got some important business to get to..." Mal was interrupted by Kade, "Adventurer business? Around here?" "Mal's got a lead on a powerful ancient artifact in the elven ruins to the south! If we can get it, it'll sell for a fortune!" Grenn said excitedly. "Damn the Gods, Grenn, keep it down!" Hissed Angus, "You want everyone in this town to hear about it?" "No need to be so nasty about it." Ezra mumbled, noticing Mal's raised eyebrow at him.

"You mean...to the north, right? There's no ruins to the south." Kade corrected. Mal shoots Angus a glare and the man shrugs. "Y-Yes! To the north! That's what she meant!" He fumbled over his words. "Hang on...there's a powerful ancient relic somewhere around here? And you're going to get it?" Ezra spoke up, excitement coloring his voice. "I got a tip, okay? A good one. From someone willing to pay a whole lot of gold. Angus and Grenn here, they're going to help me claim it. Now if you don't mind..." Mal made to leave again when Ezra gasped the man's arm, and stated, "We'd like to come along." "E-Ezra!" Kade gaped.

"What? It's the chance of a lifetime." Gold eyes playfully sparkle at his brother's expression. Mal eyed the elf before letting out a weary sigh. "No can do. This is dangerous ancient crypt business. I can't have some rookie along bumbling things up." The human noted how the elf stiffened, and prepare himself for an argument.

"I'm not a rookie." glared Ezra. "Really? Ever pried a jewel from the hands of a cursed skeleton, knowing one wrong move would bring the whole room down on your head?" Mal challenged, making Ezra falter. "I mean, not technically.." He deflated. "Ever stabbed a snarling croctopus through the eye on the deck of a burning ship?" Mal continued. "I don't..know what that is." admitted Ezra. "How about this? You ever killed a man? You ever been in a real fight?" Ezra hesitated. ""Yes, I have to both of those." He said darkly, sending chills down everyone's back. "That's what I thought. I like your hustle, I really do. But I don't have time for some kit who's still wet behind the ears." " 'Kit?' " wondered the elf.

"It's a term for new adventurers..you know, like an apprentice?" Kade whispered." "See? You don't even know the terms. Which means you've got a long way ahead of you. Get out there, have some adventures of your own, learn some skills. Then come find me, we'll talk." Mal walked off towards the village gate, Angus laughing as he followed, Grenn sending her old friend a sad look. "Sorry, Ezra." "Well, that was a thing that happened." Kade laughed nervously at Ezra's silent fuming. "He's wrong. I could've done it. I'm the one who taught Grenn to be the adventurer she is today! Angus is an old drunk ass who can barely stay on his feet half the time! 'Learn some skills' I've got plenty of skills!"

The duo began walking again, when Kade asked aloud, "Like..what?" "Well Father taught us to fight bare hand, and I've learned some things about wielding a sword from my travels with Mother. I'm not useless." Ezra ran a finger over the silver ring on his left ring finger in habit. "That Mal guy really got under your skin, didn't he?" astonished the green eyed brother. "I don't know, I suppose I'm just jealous. I want to go on grand adventures and explore." He sighed dreamily. "And get fabulously rich." Kade grinned, Ezra matching him. "That too."

"Aw, don't be hard on Riverbend. This town's been good to us! Not every human village would take such care of a couple of kids like us." 'Or would allow an elf to stay without being treated horribly.' went unsaid between the two. "I know, Kade! And it'll always be my home. I just...want to experience something more. It's not like a great adventure is just going to drop into my lap." Ezra huffed, brushing his bangs to the side again. Green eyes watch his older brother for a moment before clapping his shoulder. "Well, don't worry, brother. We'll experience it all together. " Ezra chuckled softly. "I can always count on you, Kade."

"But for now, all we've got is Riverbend. So, where do you want to start tonight?" Ezra grinned, "Let's head to the night market." "Uh, did you miss the part about having little coin?" Kade raised a eyebrow. "And you think I'm going to let that stop me? Come now, brother, you know me better than that."

The brothers weaved their way through the bustling night market, listening to vendors call out what was for sale: Fruits, meats, silks from the capital, and fish from the shore. An elderly food vendor turned and shook her head at the boys with a warm smile. "Well, well. If it isn't my two favorite customers. Two copper pieces will get you the finest pears we have." "Watch this." Ezra mumbled to Kade, before confidently walking towards the vendor, with a sly grin.

"My dear vendor, we don't have any coin..but is coin what really matters in this world?" "Excuse me?" The vendor chuckled, used to the young man's antics. "Love...passion...a moment of intimacy. Why, what is coin compared to that? Surely a beauty like you can understand." The white haired elf purred, his voice smooth like silk, eyes aglow. The woman barked a laugh at Ezra. "You are an absolute rascal, you know that? Now take these and get out of here boys." Laughing, she handed him two fresh pears, as he winked his thanks.

Ezra bit into his as Kade stared at his back with wide eyes. "How? How did that possibly work?" He raced to catch up with Ezra. "What can I say? I'm the best flirt in Riverbend." His brother laughed before finally eating his pear, walking to the town square when he spoke up again.

"You see? Riverbend isn't so bad. They've taken good care of us." "You're right. I just wish--" "HELP! Please HELP!" A shout echoed through the air. The duo turned to see a young woman in priestess's robes ran into the town square, before grabbing into Ezra, gripping his arms to keep herself from falling,Ezra eyes her.

She had long red hair the fell down to her armpits in ringlets, some strands falling into her face, framing her light brown eyes. She was wearing light pink robes, with a silver and violet necklace on her neck. "You need to help me! Please!" She begged. "Whoa there, what's wrong?" Ezra asked. The woman straightened herself out, standing tall. But Ezra could see behind her disciplined posture, was a hint of fear.

"I am Nia Ellarious, a priestess of the Light. My mentor and I are on a pilgrimage...but we were attacked by an owlbear on the road! I managed to escape while he distracted the beast. But he needs help! Now!" "Have no fear, young priestess..we are brave adventures." "Really?" Kade snorted at his brother's antics. "Shh! Don't mess this up!" hissed Ezra as Nia smiled in relief. "Thank you so much! Please, hurry now. He's just down the road." She began rushing off as Ezra and Kade shared a hesitant look before running after the ginger, but not before Ezra grabbed his sword on the way, strapping it to his left hip.

"Let's go."

@imturaxamara @bladesappreciationweek #bladesAW

https://bladesappreciationweek.tumblr.com/

#blades of light and shadow #choices #mal valori #nia ellarious #bolas kade

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nad-zeta · 4 years

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Match up (✿◠‿◠)

hi! i hope you are well and healthy! I wanted to request a matchup.

okay so i want to do this as structured as possible so you can have it easier.

about me: i am a intp, type 5 enneagram female. i'm asexual and in demiromantic. as per my d&d alignment i'm chaotic neutral. i'm a computer science student (crying cause i constantly have a bunch of assignment).

my traits: i'm kinda unsocial and cold at first but polite nonetheless at first. i'm very stubborn and rarely (almost never) admit that i'm wrong. Most of the time i'm very chill and all i do is vibe but i cannot keep my cool when i see people being unfair. i'm very lazy and unmotivated, but if i have a task that is given to me, i will make sure to do it perfectly and ontime. i am open-minded and love to talk about almost everything. i very outspoken about my opinions and i'm not afraid to call out people on they stupidity and ignorance. with my friends i'm very cheeky and love teasing them and very loyal to them. i usually make self deprecating humour. also i'm very detail-oriented and i when i make plans i try too foresee every possibility.

appearance: half of the time i'm wearing dark academia fashion and half the time i look like a 12 year old boy with only an eyeliner. i have dyed hair, currently in ginger. i do wear glasses also.

interests: memes, astronomy and quantum physics, cryptography and programming, crime mysteries, anime, music, libraries, psychology, coffee and black tea, history movies about wars,learning about random shit, alcohool, traveling.

Hi hi, love! Thanks so much for the request! I hope you are doing well and I hope you enjoy love! Also sorry for taking sooo long to get this to ya! (˶◕‿◕˶✿).

So I match you with..................... Nobunaga

Hehehe I have to admit, I had to really think about this one cause, I had half a mind bout matching you with our friendly neighbourhood ninja boi buuuut I decided not to lol

So the first time you meet Nobunaga well other than saving him from his death, was when he summoned Masamune to bring you back. You now stood in front of the man you had saved earlier on in that evening, and you were trying your best to be polite. Everything was going well until Hideyoshi made some comment about what an outspoken woman you were. Honestly, you knew women didn’t have many rights in the past, but the fact that he now full of ignorance talked down to you for being a woman had your blood boiling. You whipped your head around to look him straight in the eyes, you were very quickly starting to lose your cool with him. “What makes you think you can talk to me like that you stupid monkey.” This comment immediately brought a chuckle to Nobunaga’s lips, he found it all so amusing that you had chosen the same nickname as he had for the man. You and Hideyoshi continued to bicker, and things were starting to escalate fairly quickly. At some point, Masamune and Mitsuhide had to pull the two of you apart as you were at each other throats.

Nobunaga named you as an Oda princess and told Hideyoshi to calm down. At the end of the war council, you now sat in a room alone with the troublesome trio. Each of them sending teasing comments your way. What they didn’t expect, however, was the cheeky way you replied to their jokes. They found your loud outspokenness quite amusing.

That night as is Nobunaga’s standard procedure, he invited you to his room. You walked into the room cautiously, not really knowing what to expect. You made your way out onto the balcony, and before you could announce yourself, you saw the night sky simmering and shining above you. It was absolutely brilliant. You had never seen the sky so clear and full of stars before, it was usually masked by pollution and dimmed out by the bright city lights. Nobunaga had been curiously eyeing you the entire time, he smirked at the way you looked up at the sky in awe. “Why fireball, you acting as though you have never seen the night sky before.” You were startled for a second, you were so absorbed by the night sky that you had forgotten why you had come to his room In the first place.

Nobu being Nobu asked you in his ever commanding voice to be his bedmate for the night. An offer which you shot down faster than the blink of an eye. The man honestly couldn’t understand why, most woman would jump at the opportunity to sleep with him, yet here you are flat out rejecting him. You had explained that you were asexual, something which confused the shit out of him but either way he accepted you as you are, “Fine but you shall entertain me in some other way then.”

Honestly, you rolled your eyes at him, just who did he think he was. You took his bottle of sake, resting on the rail of the balcony and poured yourself a drink. This was the second time you had left Nobunaga speechless, he had never seen a woman so boldly make herself at home, much less pour herself a drink from his own private sake. You took a sip and smile, it was good.

The two of you stood there for a while, just drinking in silence when he suddenly broke the ice with a question. “Why did you look up at the night sky like you had never seen anything like it before?” You smiled at him, “Well that simple cause I am used to a much older looking sky, where I'm from you can’t see as many stars and planets with the naked eye like this, due to the pollution and bright lights. Again he was left confused what did you mean. He looked at you questioningly, and that is when you explained that you were from the future, and thanks to your interest in quantum physics you could also explain the concept of time travel to him in great detail. He was shook, and awestruck. What an unusual woman he has stumbled upon. And this my friend is how your nightly visits to Nobunaga’s room started

The two of you would sit and drink sake while talking about anything and everything. Nobunaga loved how open-minded you were about everything, it made it easy to bounce ideas off of you. Your topics would range from history to war to psychology. HE loved your nightly chats, in fact, he would buzz with excitement during the day at the thought of the two of you, just peacefully drinking and getting to know each other a bit better. He also loved how hard you worked for the castle and its people. He found it interesting how you would introduce the staff to new easier ways of getting the job done, simply cause you were too lazy and demotivated to do it the way they have done it for years. No one could fault your work, it was absolute perfection, and to be honest, it actually gained you a lot of respect and trust around Hideyoshi, although he still didn’t like the fact that you and his lord was spending so much time together. He was convinced you were trying to get him to lower his guard with you so you could assassinate him.

It wasn’t until a certain incident at the market that gained you Hideyoshi’s respect and trust. The two of you were sent on important business together in the market, i.e. to buy Nobunaga more candy, when some soldiers were harassing some nice old man for being a foreigner. You honestly couldn’t stand injustice and bullies so naturally, you spoke out and lost your cool with the soldiers. It wasn’t until the soldiers started talking shit about Nobunaga that your blood started to boil. Like yeah at first you also thought he was too arrogant for his own good, but you had come to know him as more than just a feared devil king. You stood before them spitting out, smart, witty comments defending both Nobunaga and the old man, forgetting that the people of this time carried swords. They raised the sword above their heads intending to cut you down where you stand, you closed your eyes and shielded yourself with your arms, but the blow never came. You slowly opened your eyes to see Hideyoshi standing before you, his own sword drawn. He had protected you and ultimately saved your life. He tied the soldiers up, and Mitsuhide emerged from the shadows to take them away. Hideyoshi now saw you in a new light, not only did you protect the old man but you also stood up for his lord. He bowed down low to you and apologised for everything, for suspecting you, for treating you so horribly, everything. He now knew you were someone who he could entrust his lord too and he was happy that Nobunaga had found a friend he could confide in

You and Nobunaga loved to travel together. It had come up during one of the nightly visits that you loved to travel and see new places, and naturally, Nobunaga would do anything to see that beautiful smile grace your face. The two of you would often sneak out of the castle to go on an adventure together, even if it’s just to a neighbouring province to buy some tea and sample their alcohol. Nobunaga really enjoyed your company he loves your cheeky teasing banter.

The best day ever, however, was when Nobunaga had shown you the castle archives, you were awestruck by the vast amount of books he had managed to acquire. He found it amusing that you loved reading and learning new things, and often during your nightly visits, he would excitingly gift you a new book about the most random topic ever. He loves it, even more, when a few days later you tell him everything that you had learned from the book. He loves talking to you and spending time with you. He loves how you fearlessly challenge his opinions and decisions and help him to grow as a person. He had long ago fallen in love with you. He needed to make his feelings known, and he couldn’t hold them in any longer

It had come up during one of your many conversations with the man that you loved crime mysteries. TBH he stored and remembered every little detail you had revealed about yourself to him. It was time to set his plan in action. He had worked closely with Mitsuhide to create a murder mystery for you to solve, expect what you didn’t expect was that at the end of the riddles and puzzles he had set out for you to solve, it wasn’t the murderer that you had discovered, but his love for you. The final clue to the fake murder was a letter that was encrypted in a secret code. You were overjoyed, you loved solving codes, and puzzles. Nobunaga was a smart man, so this code was particularly challenging, a challenge mind you, that you thrived off of. Once you had finally deciphered the code and read the letter, you were shocked. It was not a letter of confession from the fake murderer but instead a love letter that Nobunaga had poured every ounce of his love into. You were in tears at the beautiful words.

TBH it took this boy a while to get used to your self-deprecating humour cause in his eyes you were absolutely perfect, and without fault, so he could never understand the jokes you would make. Eventually, though he caught on and would chuckle at your jokes, as long as they remained just that, jokes. He loved you utterly and completely and despite appearances loved to spend hours upon hours with you cuddled in his arms. He loved to just snuggle up in your lap as you pull your fingers through his hair and tell him about your day.

The two of you cuties can often be found off travelling somewhere or sitting quietly in Nobunaga’s room sharing a drink. The two of you love nothing more than to just be nestled together. Nobunaga will hold you in his arms and gently rub circles on your back as the two of you talk about the most random topics. Nobunaga absolutely loves and adores everything about you, and loves nothing more than to just spend a quiet, peaceful evening with you.

Other potential matches................Sasuke

I hope you enjoyed it love and I hope you are keeping safe and well! (◕ω◕✿)❤❤🌼

#oda nobunaga #ikesen nobunaga #nobunaga oda #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen matchup #match ups #matchups #nobunaga matchup #submission

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kwantified · 4 years

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tokyo - namjoon (bts)

genre: angst, slight fluff, inspired by rm’s “tokyo” word count: 2.5k synopsis: two strangers slow down in their fast-paced lives. lower case intended.

disclaimer! cursing + i know nothing about where everything is tokyo, so don't bash me if i get some places wrong :')

kim namjoon woke up to the sound of car horns and cold air.

it was november, and these days, he was never certain where he'd wake up every morning. usually, he'd have to get up and check where he was, as he flew so much that he could never keep track.

but this place, this city, he was certain. it was tokyo.

tokyo was similar to seoul, but there was just something about the place that drew him back. he couldn't quite put a finger on it.

namjoon sat up straight to get a hold of his surroundings. last time he checked, he was rooming with taehyung for the entirety of their stay in tokyo, and that their hotel room didn't contain a spotless kitchen or dining corner. the sun's morning rays shone brightly on the thick, white bedding through the large window pane placed right next to the queen-sized bed.

namjoon looked down at himself. he was still wearing his clothes from yesterday's concert. sweaty. he then got out of the bed after realizing that the sheets were too clean to even stand one more second of his presence.

looking around, everything was white. the only sources of colour in the room were the succulent plants kept in white pots on the shelf by the television and the fluffy grey rug underneath the bed. but is grey even a colour?

namjoon searched for his belongings, careful not to touch anything in the room. anything. he checked on tabletops, chairs, shelves, drawers (he may or may not have opened an underwear drawer by accident), and cupboards, but nothing. he could only find his phone in his pockets, which stood strong at five percent battery. still, he continued to search.

while looking under the fluffy grey rug, a door opened behind him, a female voice following in japanese.

"good morning."

namjoon froze, turning towards you. you were dressed in a robe, looking like you had just taken a shower. your hair fell down to your shoulders, semi-wet.

"i'm Y/N," you greeted briefly.

namjoon hesitated, "i'm namjoon. where am i?"

"shibuya," you answered. you then opened your clothes drawers, looking for something to wear for today. you noticed some of your t-shirts were unfolded, but you decided to shrug it off.

"where can i get the train to my hotel?" he asked you in surprisingly smooth japanese. at this point, it was obvious that he wasn't japanese.

"where is your hotel?" you replied in fluent english, momentarily shocking the man. he then began to recite his hotel's address, already having it memorized.

"alright. i'll get changed first, and then we'll take the subway to your hotel."

"you're just getting changed here?" namjoon's face was painted with worry, yet his voice completely countered any emotions at all. it was quite amusing.

"hell no! i'm just picking up my clothes here to change in the bathroom," you reassured, making your way to the bathroom.

you came back, dressed in a pair of wide-leg trousers and oversized blazer, to find namjoon looking under the coffee table.

"what are you doing?" you asked. your words caused his body to automatically move away, startled.

"i was searching for my stuff, sorry," he apologized.

you proceeded to open the drawer underneath your nightstand, taking out his wallet and handing it to him, "here's your stuff."

he thanked you warmly, then asking you after looking you up and down, "are you going somewhere after this?"

"i have work at nine," you answered politely.

"what's your job?"

"i'm a magazine editor."

he looked through his wallet while you opened the fridge, fetching your orange juice and one breakfast burrito. you tossed it to namjoon.

"eat your burrito, we're going after my glass of orange juice."

"you're not eating?"

"i had my burrito an hour ago."

the weather outside was cool and covered with fog. the wind brushed on your legs, giving you a chill. you looked to namjoon next to you, now sporting his black mask and beanie. even the hood of his jacket was pulled over his head.

"so," namjoon began, "how did i... end up at your place?"

"i saw you half-asleep by the stairs," you continued, "i was going to ignore you, but you insisted to get inside. i declined, but then you started to give this long speech about being tired and then clung onto my leg."

"i was drunk, huh..."

"yeah."

"you still let me in?"

"namjoon, i've seen your face on posters in subway stations. bangtan, right?"

namjoon only nodded. you both knew how the media worked, and if you had turned namjoon to the police, the story that of one of the members of the biggest boy group was found drunk alone in tokyo would've reached headline news.

"y-you won't do anything about this, right?"

"i work for a fashion magazine, not a celeb magazine," you smiled.

soon the both of you were on the platform, waiting for the next subway train to arrive. the station was starting to become packed with dozens of individuals - people going to work, going to school, going home. you turned to namjoon, "what are you doing today?"

"what day is today again?"

"monday,"

"i think today's a free day for me," he nodded, "our flight is at midnight."

"where are you going?"

"europe, either paris or berlin," namjoon answered calmly despite the hard wind the subway blew towards his direction. as the two of you got in the subway, you told him, "alright. your hotel is three stops from here."

the train started to leave, both of you stood in the middle, holding onto the handles. in a short amount of time, you'd already arrived at the third stop. the doors opened, and you jerked your head towards the open doors.

"namjoon? this is your stop," you whispered. still, he didn't move. instead, you found his eyes fixed on something behind you. you turned around to see a map of the subway line. you read: ginza.

"i think i'm going down on the next stop instead."

both of you resumed into silence until the next stop. you couldn't argue with him; he was a grown man who could make his own decisions. also, you're almost certain he's been to tokyo (or japan in general) multiple times before this, so you didn't feel the need to worry.

as the train halted at the next stop, you watched namjoon smile at you after a short goodbye. you smiled back, unknowingly taking a few steps towards the door before stopping yourself. perhaps you wanted to follow him. the doors kept open. it seemed like they always kept open. they would never close, and you saw namjoon walk away. the image played so slowly in your vision, and all you wanted to do was run out. the door was right there.

one day off of work wouldn't hurt, right?

people stopped entering the train, and at that moment, the doors started to close. it was too late.

but still, fuck it.

you could hear the people both on the train and the platform gasp as your blazer's bottom hem got stuck on the door. immediately, you rid yourself of it, and you (regretfully) watched how it flew in the air when the subway left the station.

namjoon looked back after the gasps. he didn't mind it at first, just a random person - then he recognized you, now only in your turtleneck and pants. he stood still as you approached him.

"hey," you panted a little bit, "going shopping?"

"don't you have work?" he asked instead.

"i thought about going, but i haven't been to ginza in a while," you smiled, earning a light laugh from him.

"let's go, then."

the streets, despite it being only late november, were almost fully decked with christmas decorations. you walked with him without any destination; just conversation in your minds. different topics would come up as you got to know him. you talked about anything: travelling, jobs, love lives, music, movies. from time to time, he'd stop by at some shops for small (or expensive) goodies. at one point the two of you spotted an ad featuring namjoon and his bandmates on the street - that gave you a good laugh.

it seemed like the two of you just clicked in a way you would have never thought. when conversation flowed, another followed; even silence was nowhere near awkward.

by the time lunch came around, you realized almost every single restaurant and cafe was filled with long lines of citizens and tourists alike, so the two of you decided to go to an art museum nearby. the more time you spent with namjoon, the more time flew. hours felt like minutes, and minutes were mere seconds.

soon, the sun started to set and the lights started to appear. they looked like sprinkles, spread generously around the district. the large buildings and wide markets were so busy, and you had to love them. everything went fast, and as much as you were used to that, you needed to slow down from time to time. you needed to take a breather - look around for a short while.

although ginza was stunning, you were freezing.

"namjoon, can i stop by somewhere? i might need to buy a jacket or something," you tried your best to not seem like your hands were falling off your arms, regrets of letting your blazer go earlier popping up in your head.

namjoon looked around for a shop nearby. then he looked down to himself. "you can have mine?"

you shook your head slightly, declining.

"why not?"

"you're going to be cold, too."

"but i'm wearing a few layers already. you're only wearing one," he insisted.

"we'll just- keep walking until there's a store." the two of you walked, as you silently contemplated whether or not to spend another few thousand yen on a jacket you'd only wear once or to just borrow namjoon's. at first, you really hoped for a store to appear within your sight that happened to sell affordable jackets, but the more you thought about it, you started to freeze even more and you could barely hold it.

you stopped in your tracks, "uh, namjoon...?"

he looked back at you, giving you a hum in response.

"are you sure you'll be okay with just your hoodie and shirt underneath?"

the man chuckled lightly as he took your arm in his to move to the side of the street. he took his thickest coat off and hung it across your narrower shoulders before replying, "yes."

you put his coat on properly. you could see how much bigger it was on you and how fluffy and warm it made you feel. your hands barely made it out of the sleeves, and it reached your mid-thighs, making you feel like a human-sized pillow.

without notice, namjoon lightly took your hand from inside his fluffy sleeve and held it, intertwining his fingers with yours. and so, he and you continued to walk. namjoon smiled at the sight of your comfort. it warmed him up as it did to you, making him feel some kind of fluffy on the inside.

it slipped his mind that he'd been walking for so many hours, just strolling around the district. not to mention you, the (adorable) stranger he had just met that day. namjoon had always liked to walk around foreign places by himself, and for a while he thought it was best to be alone, but walking with you made him think otherwise.

the two of you explored the busy streets, the food courts, the boutiques, the alleyways, and the small bars. it was almost every place one could go to in ginza, yet you and namjoon didn't want to stop.

sadly, good things must come to an end. it was nearing seven, and you knew he had to get back to his hotel - for real now.

when he checked the time, you could feel his grip on your hand become slightly tighter. it was time to go. it was a silent mutual understanding; he was on tour, and there would be no tolerance for delays or absences unless it was health. he had hundreds of thousands of fans waiting for him in other countries and six bandmates who needed him to perform with them.

any conversation died down the closer he and you got to the station. and when both of you did get to the station, the only thing you could say was nothing. this time, you felt stuffy.

when you two got into the train to your stops, the stuffy silence stayed, and you hated how you had so much to say yet couldn't say it at all. at his stop, you walked out into the station with him, taking him to the escalators. he pulled you into a secluded corner, probably for the same reason that you would - to finally tell you what he couldn't earlier.

"Y/N, i-" his speech was interrupted by a warm hug. if you couldn't express it in words, you'd express it another way, and for him, all you wanted to say to him was in the gentle hug; full of longing, sadness, and thanks.

"i'll miss you," he said, still in your arms, "find me if you're ever in seoul or wherever i'm at these days."

"maybe i'll have to buy a ticket to one of your concerts overseas," you giggled.

"oh!" you pulled back from the hug, "your coat-"

"just keep it," he said calmly.

"it feels too expensive for me to keep."

"keep it!" he continued, "you know, for keepsake."

"fine..." you said. though you can't lie, his coat was the warmest thing you've ever worn.

"i'll get going, then." he walked away, getting on the escalator. you stood there, accepting the goodbye. you began to walk back to the platform of your train. you decided that you'd mope over him at home with takeout, so you made sure not to think about anything yet - not even the fact that you actually really liked him after spending so much time with him but will probably never see or talk to him again because you forgot to ask for his number.

it was too late now.

then you felt a tap on your shoulder.

namjoon.

this time, it was he who was panting, resembling your rushed actions at the subway earlier today.

"i wanted," he began, "to give you my number?"

you let him take your phone to type his contact in, naming it "joon".

as he does, he looks into your eyes for a bit, leaning in just enough so you could have kissed him then and there.

but you didn’t, and for the last time that day, you felt his cold hand brush against yours as he handed you back your phone.

with a quick goodbye, he sauntered off into the city, ready to continue the next leg of his world tour - in another continent.

you stood still, quiet, pursing your lips as you stare at the tiles of the floor, trying to process everything that’s happened today. then your phone started vibrating.

it was a call from "joon". you picked up.

"my flight’s actually at twelve pm tomorrow. meet me at my stop?“

you laugh. out of relief, glee, and excitement, you laugh.

“i’m still at your stop, joon.”

#bts #kim namjoon #namjoon #rm #kpop #oneshot #fanfic #tokyo #mono #japan #ginza #romance #angst #bangtan #bangtan boys #bighit #big hit entertainment

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