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hotch-stufff · 3 years ago

Text

Kiss The Girl

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Warnings!: angst, pining(lots of it), crying, arguing, but a fluffy ending, like super fluffy ending :)

Word Count: 3.7k words

Description: Hotch tries to deny it, but he's madly in love with you. He keeps getting this urge to just kiss you. Could it really be that easy?

A/N: not really sure what this is, but I was listening to that new cover of kiss the girl by Brent Morgan and I really wanted wrote this. It definitely took a turn i was not expecting, but I hope you guys love it as much as I do. :)

*Based off the song "Kiss the Girl"*

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He loved you. It was no secret.

Everyone knew, everyone except maybe him.

Or maybe he did know, but he refused to accept it. He couldn't love you. It was wrong. But if it was wrong, why on earth did it feel so good?

There, you see her, Sitting there, across the way

She don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her

He wasn't the best at sharing his feelings. He was good at locking them away, and throwing away the key. But you, you made that hard.

There was just something about you. It drew him in, and he was hooked.

Maybe it was the way you giggled when you were nervous. Or maybe it was the blush that tinted your cheeks when someone gave you a compliment. Maybe it was the way you showed Hotch the happiness he needed in his darkest times.

He wasn't sure, but he knew you were special. He was sure he knew exactly when these feelings had started. It was the night of Rossi's Christmas party.

You sat on Rossi's couch, laughing along with Morgan and Prentiss. They had made some very very inappropriate joke, that you just thought was hilarious.

"Okay, h-hang on. I need a refill." You gasped out between laughs. You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing the wine before pouring yourself a glass.

"Hey." You nearly squealed as Hotch came in the room behind you.

"Jesus Hotch, could have given me a heart attack." He simply chuckled. "Yeah, laugh it up." You playfully rolled your eyes.

"I'm sorry." He tried to hide his smile.

"Yeah, you sound it." You walked towards him, giving him a soft smile as the teasing atmosphere faded. The room was empty, and you wouldn't be able to ever work up the courage again.

"Merry Christmas Hotch." You whispered as you leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. You pulled back, gave him a small smile, and walked back to the living room.

Aaron stood there, shocked.

Why had you don't that? Why had he liked it? Would you do it again?

The questions repeated in his head, over and over. And he realised that a peck on the cheek wouldn't be enough.

He needed a kiss, a real kiss. Even just one from you and he would be satisfied for life. But that, was an impossible dream. Or, so he thought.

And you don't know why, but you're dyin' to try

You wanna kiss the girl

Months had passed since then and he still hadn't gotten another kiss from you.

You two had grown increasingly close however. You were practically inseparable. Always at one of your houses, talking, watching movies, eating. You name it.

Although watching movies was usually with Jack, and currently he was stuck on repeating the Little Mermaid.

"Miss Y/n?" He asked one night.

"Yes Jackers?" You asked, looking down at the small boy.

"Can we please, watch the little mermaid with daddy?" He begged. He used those puppy dog eyes and you were sold.

"Of course we can." You heard a chuckle come from behind you and you whipped around.

"Didn take you long to give in, huh?" Hotch questioned, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Oh shut it Hotchner. Go get the popcorn." He laughed and shook his head before walking to the kitchen.

Soon you found yourself wrapped up with the Hotcner boys. Jack was curled up on your lap, his face buried in your neck as he fell asleep.

As you and Hotch watched the movie, he snuck glances every couple of minutes. He couldn't get over how beautiful you looked.

And you were holding his son, loving him like he could be your own. It filled Hotch's heart with love and affection.

And then that song began playing softly in the background

Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do

The lyrics spoke a truth that Hotch was desperately trying to avoid.

But he didn't know how much longer he could go without telling you. In the moment he couldn't remember why he hadn't told you already.

Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her

It don't take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl

All he wanted to do was reach over and bring you into a kiss. Just a simple kiss.

Just to feel your lips move together. Just for a second. He almost did. You had turned to look at him, and he leaned in slightly. His hand raising.

But the shrill sound of his phone broke the trance. His hand receded before you could grab it. And he didn't kiss you.

You were filled with a disappointment that you couldn't explain.

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, my, oh, my, look like the boy too shy, He ain't gonna kiss the girl

Sha-la-la-la-la-la, ain't that sad? Ain't it a shame? Too bad, He gonna miss the girl

The music of the movie faded as a grim look replaced the carefree one on Hotch's face.

"We'll be right in." He muttered out the words with disdain, sending you an apologetic look.

But you barely noticed, you were still trying to calm down the beating of your heart.

He was going to kiss you.

Did he feel the same way that you did?

All thoughts left your mind though as you felt Jack wake in your arms.

"Hey buddy." He looked up at you with the eyes he shared with his father.

"Do you have to leave?" Your heart broke a little bit at his questions.

"Yeah, bud. I'm sorry." He just smiled at you and burrows further into your chest.

"Its 'kay." He mumbled sleepily. "But we have to wait till Aunt Jess gets here so we can keep cuddling." Your heart swelled and your face lit up. Hotch was staring at the two of you, in awe. His son loved you so much.

You looked over at him, a tear in your eye. He swallowed as he pushed his feelings aside, giving you a soft smile before getting up to get dressed.

He was screwed.

A couple cases later, and you were holed up in a precinct, everyone nearly falling asleep.

It was a bad case, a really bad case. And you were running out of time. The unsubs' latest victim only had about a day left.

But nobody could work if they were falling asleep. Eventually Hotch sighed and told everyone it was time to head to the hotel.

But of course, once there, there were only 4 rooms.

"I'm taking my own room. I'm old." Rossi said and grabbed the key before anyone could argue.

"C'mon pretty boy." Morgan grabbed another key, and walked off with spence.

"I'll go with Jj. Y/l/n, you good with Hotch?" Your face went bright red at Prentiss's words. But you nodded, looking anywhere but at Hotch. You couldn't say no, it would be too obvious.

"Y-yeah, that's fine." You all trudged to the elevator, Emily and Jj said goodnight and walked off once you reached your floor. You and Hotch walked in silence down the hall to the very last room.

He swung the door open, and you had to stop yourself from gasping. There was only one bed.

"I'll uh, I'll take the floor." You scrunched your nose at Hotch's offer and he couldn't deny how adorable you looked.

"Hotch, no. That will kill your back." You shook your head. "We can share. We're both adults, it's fine." You're not sure if you're convincing yourself or him. He just nods and gives a soft okay.

"Do you want the first shower?" He asked.

"Um, no. I shower in the mornings." He nodded before walking into the bathroom.

Why was this so awkward? You guys were such good friends, this shouldn't be so weird.

You pushed the thought aside before crawling into the bed and curling up.

Hotch walked out of the bathroom 10 minutes later in nothing but a towel.

Your eyes grew and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. He cleared his throat, and you looked up at his eyes.

"Uh sorry, forgot my bag." You nodded, looking away quickly. Too scared to speak. He quickly went back into the bathroom.

"Get a hold of yourself." You whispered to yourself. You weren't going to survive this case if he did that again. He joined you in bed soon after getting dressed.

Neither of you spoke, neither of you moved, neither of you breathed. It was completely silent.

After about 20 minutes of silence and trying desperately to fall asleep you spoke up.

"Hotch?"

"Yeah?" His voice was hoarse.

"Um, I can't sleep." You turned towards him and he did the same.

"Neither can I." You sighed.

"How's Jack?" You asked, trying to bring up the mood, or to at least get rid of the awkwardness. It seemed to work because his face lit up at the mention of his son.

"He's good. He actually just asked if you could come over soon. He got an A plus on his spelling test that you helped him study for and he really wants to show you." You smiled as you listened.

"That's great! He was so nervous for that test."

"Yeah, thank you Y/n for helping him." You grabbed his hand, squeezing gently.

"Of course Hotch. I love Jack." You muttered, and you fell into silence again.

But it was more content, more peaceful. Your hands stayed laced together, and Hotch's mind went blank as you started leaning closer.

Now's your moment

Floating in a blue lagoon

Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better

He started leaning in, his hand moved from your own to cup your face. But something switched in his mind. What was he doing? This was wrong. He couldn't let this happen.

Your faces were inches apart when he pulled his hand away and scooted backwards slightly.

Look like the boy too shy

He ain't gonna kiss the girl

Your face fell, and his heart squeezed painfully.

"Um, we should go to bed." You were so confused. You thought that was it. It was perfect. He, he pulled away though. Why had he pulled away?

You could almost physically see his walls being built up.

Walls you had spent so much time breaking down.

"Oh, um. O-okay." You stuttered out, pulling back quickly.

"Goodnight Y/n." He said softly, but you didn't respond. You were too scared you would cry if you did.

You fell asleep faster than you anticipated, but maybe you were just that tired.

He was gone when you woke up.

You thought everything might just go back to the way it was after that night.

But boy were you wrong. Hotch had completely pulled away from you.

No longer did he invite you over, or invite you to do paperwork in his office with him

You didn't watch movies, or go out to eat, or even talk about anything other than work. It was hell.

You tried, you really tried to get him to open up again, but it just didn't work. Nothing did.

It was to the point where he would be almost rude to you.

The team was beginning to notice. And you couldn't hold back any longer. It was killing you.

You needed to talk to him, past this wall he had put up. You needed to know why he was pushing you away. You walked up to his door, knocking on the door.

"Come in." He said softly. You walked in, and his eyes stayed trained on the paperwork in front of him.

"Hotch?" He still didn't look up.

"How can I help you Agent Y/l/n?" He asked, his voice not wavering from professionalism. You shut the door behind you and walked forward, sitting in one of the chairs.

"We need to talk." He was taken aback slightly by the determination in your voice, but he sighed before setting down his pen.

"What is it?" He sounded almost annoyed, which just made you angrier.

"What the hell is going on?" You didn't mean to be so rude about it, but you needed to know.

"Excuse me?"

"Seriously Hotch, we went from talking almost every day, to not speaking unless it has something to do with work."

"Y/l/n…" he went to stop you.

"No. Hotch please. I don't know what I did." You begged. "I mean you can't even use my name anymore." You whispered.

"This is very unprofessional." he wasn't breaking.

"Please Aaron. Don't lie to me." You tried his first name, and he had never loved his name being spoken more than when you said it. But he had to stop this.

"Agent Y/l/n. I'm sorry if our friendship was confus-" but you cut him off.

"We weren't just friends. You know that and I know that." He had the audacity to look confused. But he knew exactly what you were talking about.

Don't try to hide it how, You wanna kiss the girl

"Please Aaron, don't pretend, not with me."

"Agent Y/l/n! That's enough!" His voice was rising.

He didn't understand why you couldn't just let it go.

"No it's not. I love you Aaron, I'm sorry. But I do. And it hurts so much that you are pushing me away!" Your eyes filled with tears and Hotch stood there, awed that you felt this way. But he couldn't let you in. So he took that final heartbreaking step.

"I don't love you." He whispered out. You had been standing and you took a staggering step backwards.

"What?" Your voice was small.

"I don't love you Y/n." The lie was tearing him apart. Why was he doing this again?

Tears began falling down your face. You were upset and mad and heartbroken. And you were embarrassed that this man had this much of a hold on you.

"Fine." You sniffed. "If that's how you feel Agent Hotchner." He missed the way you said Aaron and flinched at the formal title. But this was what he wanted. "I apologize for the unprofessionalism." You turned to leave, but stopped when he spoke.

"Y/n…" His voice was small, strained. You wiped away your tears. When you looked back, his eyes were glossy.

But he didn't say anything else and you kept walking, slamming the door behind you. The bullpen silenced and everyone stared at you.

It was humiliating, but you walked to Rossi's office, your head held high.

"Rossi?"

"Y/l/n, what's wrong?" He asked, like he hadn't heard the conversation through his shared wall with Hotch.

"Can you please tell Hotch that I'm sick and I won't be in for a while?" Your voice wavered slightly, but you ignored it.

"Y/n-" he started, but you didn't feel like talking.

"Please Rossi?" You begged, praying he would just say yes so you could leave.

"Yes, of course." You nodded and thanked him before leaving. You slipped down to your desk and grabbed your bag.

You didn't see Hotch standing in the doorway of his office, watching you as you left, tears silently slipping down your face.

Your teammates asked what was happening, but you just waved them off and left.

They all turned to Hotch, but he was already back in his office, his door slamming for the second time that day.

You wanna kiss the girl

A week passed, and you hadn't come back to work yet. Hotch wasn't sure what to do with himself. He hated what he did.

The team was confused, Rossi kept sending him angry glances, and your empty desk was haunting him.

And then, Jack asked that question. The question that broke him just a little more.

"Why doesn't Miss Y/n come over anymore daddy?" He had asked one night at dinner.

He didn't know how to answer. "Does she not love us anymore?" His eyes were big and glossy like he was going to cry. He decided not to lie to his son.

"Daddy made a mistake and Miss Y/n is just a little sad right now." Jack didn't understand what was happening, but he wanted to help fix it. His dad had been so sad these past couple of weeks and it made him sad.

"Daddy, you have to say sorry! And you have to do what the song says!" Hotch looked at his son confused. What song?

"What song buddy?" He asked, pulling his son into his lap.

"You know, you have to kiss the girl!" He giggled like it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"The little mermaid song?" He asked, smiling at his son's innocence.

"Yes, remember, you and Y/n were sitting on the couch before you left for work, and you were going to kiss her!" Hotch looks shocked, Jack was awake for that?

"Um, buddy. Me and Y/n aren't together." He sighed as his son deflated.

"But why? You love her. And she loves you." He spoke, confused as to what was happening.

"Um.." Hotch drew a blank. He couldn't give this little boy an answer. Not when it was his fault. Not when he was the one that had said no.

It was a mistake, a huge mistake. He should have just told you. Why hadn't he?

He should have kissed you.

The first time, or the second time. He should have told you that he loved you too. Was it too late?

"Um, buddy, you know what? It's time for bed." Hotch put his son to sleep and called Rossi, asking him to come over.

He prayed he wasn't too late. Rossi showed up at his door 20 minutes later.

"Hotch-" but he knew.

"I know, I'm an idiot. But I have to go tell her I love her too." He was rushing, grabbing his keys.

"Atta boy Aaron." Was all Rossi said as Hotch ran out the door, jumping in his car.

He was sure he was going faster than the speed limit, but he couldn't care less. He needed to see you, and to be with you. To tell you that he loved you.

His car was barely parked when he jumped out and ran up to your door, banging on it.

You heard the noise wondering who would come over so late. You were shocked to find Hotch there as you opened the door.

There, you see her, Sitting there, across the way

She don't got a lot to say, but there's something about her

"Y/n." Was all he said. You slammed the door in his face. He began banging his fist in the door and you threw it open, again.

"Leave Hotch."

"Please, Y/n, just hear me out." He begged. You hesitated, but moved to the side letting him in. You shut the door softly.

Yes, you want her, Look at her, you know you do

Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her

"What do you want, Hotch? What more could you possibly want?" He shook his head, holding his tears at bay.

"Aaron." He spoke quietly.

"What?"

"Please, it's Aaron."

"Agent Hotchner. You need to leave." But he didn't leave. He stood there and stared at you.

"I'm so sorry Y/n."

"Hotch, seriously, I can't do this. I can't." You tried to keep those tears in, you were tired of crying over him, but there was no point. You felt then slip down your face.

Words weren't working, he had already said enough. But he remembered Jacks words.

The song.

Now's your moment, Boy, you better do it soon, no time will be better

She don't say a word and she won't say a word, Until you kiss the girl

He stepped forward and brought his hand up to your face. He leaned in slowly, and brought your lips to his.

Your heart stopped, and you kissed him back desperately. You had wanted this for so long. You had waited for so. Damn. Long.

"Your so stupid." You murmured against his lips. He pulled away gasping for air.

"I know" his voice was beautiful.

You've gotta kiss the girl, Go on and kiss the girl

He leaned in again, kissing you like his life depended on it. He gently ran his thumb across your cheek as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you forward. He broke away a moment later.

"I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I was an idiot. I love you." A tear escaped his eye, and you brushed it away. "I dont expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't forgive me if I was you. I was awful, and I never should have lied and said I didn't love you too. I shouldn't have pushed you away."

"Why did you?" He hesitated, he wasn't sure you would understand.

"The last time I let someone in my heart, she left. And then she got hurt because of me. I couldn't risk that happening to you." He shook his head.

"Oh Aaron. I'm not leaving. I don't ever want to leave you. I love you too much to leave." You paused. "And you can't hide and be scared to open your heart. Its okay to let people in." You added softly and he gave you a smile.

You both stood there in blissful peace, your foreheads touching. He chuckled and you looked at him confused.

"What?"

"I kissed the girl." You just grew more confused.

"What are you talking about?" You asked humor in your voice.

"The song. Jack said I had to do what the little mermaid song said." You understood then and began giggling.

"Maybe, maybe you should do it again." You suggested, a smile on your face.

"Hmm, maybe I should." And he leaned in again for another breathtaking kiss.

.....................

"And that is how me and your dad got together." Your three kids sat in front of you listening in awe.

"Wow, so Jack is why he finally told you he loved you?" Your middle child, Tommy asked. Jack laughed as he stood up, tapping your shoulder as he towered over you.

"You could say that." Aaron said from the doorway, you turned, smiling at your husband.

"Yeah, sure." You giggled and ruffled Jack's hair as you picked up your nine year old daughter, Jenna. Who, in all honesty, was almost too big to be picked up.

"Mommy, can you tell us that story every night?" She asked, and you smiled.

"Of course I can sweat pea. But now, its bed time." You tucked in your kids, giving them each a kiss on the forehead before joining your husband in your room.

You plopped on the bed and curled up into his side.

"Hi sweetheart." He greeted you with a kiss, and he pulled you into his side. "You know, you didn't need to make me sound so…" he couldn't quite find the word.

"Stupid? Clueless? Dumb?" You asked, giggling as he began digging his fingers into your side, tickling you.

"St-stop. Aaron!" You shrieked and he let up, but not before plopping on top of you. He began peppering kisses all over your face.

"I'm glad you finally told that story. Jenna has been begging for weeks" Your youngest had watched the little mermaid a couple of weeks ago and Jack had made a comment about one of the songs. Jenna had heard one word and was begging for us to tell her our "falling in love story", as she put it.

You had finally given in and told them, and they had loved every moment of it. Jack of course had already known, having witnessed it.

But Jenna and Tommy had loved hearing how their parents had fallen in love.

And a week later when you walked in the living room you were filled with a sense of nostalgia as you saw Jack with Jenna in his lap, as Tommy and Aaron sat on the couch next to them. Watching, of course, the little mermaid. You plopped next to Aaron, smiling.

As Kiss The Girl started playing.

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Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#imagine #angst #fluff #reader insert #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #hotch x reader #criminal minds x reader

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d-targaryenshoe · 4 years ago

Text

By Chance • Jackson Avery

Requested?: @lorenakaspersen ❤️

Summary: Y/N and Jackson have a kid together but when heartache gets too hard, then worse things happen

Warnings: surgery

Word Count: 1538

Letting go of someone you love with all your hear is hard sometimes, very hard. Knowing that you will no longer be the person they wake up next to. Or who they laugh with at the dumbest things.

The fact having a son together doesn't make it any easier. Not easier because you can't ask anything without being akward. Or thinking about the moments you have been through together.

Your son was the most important thing in your life. He was the reason you kept going and kept smiling.

But right now, you were walking in the rain. Hoping everything would turn back to normal, and the biggest impossibilities would turn possible. Just for this once.

Standing on the sidewalk, you were looking at a couple across the street, sitting next to each other, hands intertwined and live dripping of the both of them.

A sad smile was formed on your lips before a couple of tears decided to make their way up into your eyes, telling you that breaking wasn't a bad thing. It meant healing.

Watching down the street, car lights and shop lights where filling your sight, knowing that beautiful things still existed. You just had to find them and sometimes it just happened.

Throwing your handbag on the ground, you released a scream, being frustrated how your life had turned out. A single mother who was still in love with the father of your son.

"Ma'am, are you okay?" Turning around a male around his 30's frowned at your face as he noticed the tears. "Can i help you?"

You released a sarcastic laugh, clapping your hands. "I'm a single mother who has a son and left his father because she knew he didn't want a kid, now he has a new girlfriend, a badass firefighter, no I'm not okay."

The man opened up his mouth to say something but instead he closed it, trying to process your rambling. "I should go."

"Yeah, you should!" Now you saw a couple people staring at you from a distance, which made you slightly walk backwards.

"Ma'am watch where you're going!" Before you could listen to the person yelling, you turned and saw two white headlights blinding your sight before you felt a hard blow on yourself.

As a person called an ambulance within a few minutes a siren was heard and people started to make a small crowd, curious to see what had happened.

The back double doors opened as the small black female walked out, known as Miranda Bailey followed by Meredith Grey.

"What happened?" Miranda demanded as she slightly glared at the people who were just staring at the scene. "Anyone gonna tell me?"

"Bailey, look at this!" Meredith motioned for the female to walk over, wanting to show her colleague something important.

Taking a hold of your hand, the blonde woman showed your ring finger, a silver ring placed on it. More to say, a ring that meant more to you than anyone could know.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Grey, look for any open wounds, she'll need surgery, Avery can't know." The woman was close to losing her cool as you were one of the persons she was the most protective of.

"The side of her stomach is swelled, probably a bleeding spleen, we need to transfer her." Meredith spoke up, pulling your shirt back down, looking at you with pursed lips.

"Gurney!" Taking a hold of the gurney Bailey and Meredith placed you down, rolling you into the ambulance, closing both of the doors.

"How am I suppose to not say anything to Jackson, he deserves to know, you know he does?" The blonde female stated, watching Bailey shake her head in denial.

"He's screwing a hot firefighter over Y/N damn Y/L/N, he doesn't, Grey." Miranda snapped when crossing her arms in anger. "He really doesn't."

Meredith frowned in deep thoughts, knowing somewhere she was right. But yet she felt bad, knowing she had to keep this to herself.

He cared somewhere although Vic wasn't what you were. She was pushy, you did everything on a low tempo. She was work addicted, you made time.

"Get up, we're here." Miranda spoke softly, taking a hold of the gurney at the end of the gurney, rolling you slowly out.

"Let's get you into surgery." Meredith mumbled, trying to give herself some courage, to not say anything and to save you.

"You got her?" The dark woman questioned, placing a hand on Meredith's shoulder, wanting to be sure the blonde could handle it. "I can scrub in too?"

"NO, I mean no, I want to do this alone." She replied, staring down at you as she started rolling you down the O.R.

Vic wasn't you. Not a little bit. Sure he felt okay with her but not like with you. Something about it was different.

"So, school went nice, huh?" Victoria smiled, squatting down to your son's fight, ruffling his curls as he smiled as well.

"Yes! Why are you always around my daddy?" Your son had this personality of always asking what his mind was saying, sometimes it satisfied you.

"Oh Well, uhm-" Vic had a small problem with answering these questions that came out of nowhere, maybe because she knew she wasn't you.

Taking in the sight in front of her, she noticed Jackson walking up to her with a confused expression. "Miles? Weren't you staying with your mom, today?"

"No! Vic surprised me at school and she picked me up!" The boy explained with a toothy smile at his dad, while Vic just pursed her lips.

"Y/N was supposed to pick him up, why did you do that?" Jackson asked, getting to start frustrated at her. "She's his mom."

"Why are mad? I wanted you to have some more time with him?" The curly haired woman argued, pointing at the small boy that was holding his dad's hand.

"You move in without asking, Y/N ignores me in here because of you, and now you pick up my son without asking me? I don't want a relationship like that, Vic." The blue eyed man rambled, shoving past the woman, holding his son's hand before a beeping sound went off.

"What's that, daddy?" Your son's voice sounded a little bit confused, staring up at Jackson.

"Aunt Mer is calling me, come on." Jackson bend down, picking up your son as he started walking towards the O.R.

"Aunt Mer!" As your son noticed Meredith standing out of the O.R. Her blonde locks were hidden behind the scrub cap.

"Hey buddy." Meredith smiled, wrapping her arms around the small boy, releasing him after a few second, taking a deep breath, looking at Jackson with nerves.

"What? Something wrong?" Jackson snorted, placing his hand in the pockets of his coat, staring at the blonde woman. "Mer?"

"It's Y/N. The person I just performed surgery on? It was Y/N." This was the moment Meredith Grey slightly broke down, tears flowed down on her cheeks. "She was in a car accident, I wasn't supposed to tell you."

Jackson shook his head at her, walking towards the wall and leaning his head on it. Watching his son being confused as he bent down.

"Where's mommy?" The little boy gazed up at Meredith and then back to Jackson. "Is she gonna be okay?"

"Yes! She's asleep, but I stopped the little bleeding so now she'll need to rest, but you can see her." Meredith explained, watching both of the persons in front of her, not knowing what to do herself.

"Can i stay with you here? While dad goes to see mom? I'm scared." The boy asked, wrapping his small hand around Mer's.

"Sure, I don't have surgery anytime soon, come on." Meredith softly spoke, walking towards the waiting room, placing a hand on Jackson's shoulder, giving him a nod. "Go and see her, I got him."

Giving her a nod back. The blue eyed surgeon slightly pushed the door of the room open, taking in a breath as he saw you laying.

You were looking out of the window. Doctors and patients passing. Wishing you were out there instead of in this bed.

"I heard." Jackson spoke up, closing the door, as you kept looking out of the window.

"You know, I still care about you and I shouldn't. Because you're happy and I'm good on my own." You spoke, turning your head at him, squinting your eyes.

"I'm not happy, I broke up with Vic." The sentence left his mouth and your heart stopped for a moment. "She's not you, I don't have the special moments with her like I had with you. And my mom won't shut up about you, April even hates me because I was with Vic."

"Oh." That was the word that left your mouth, fiddling with a loose thread from your blanket. "I'm sorry, I guess?"

"No I am, I'm sorry for not being there, for not fighting for what we had, for moving on so fast, for everything." Jackson said, looking you in the eyes, not knowing what else to say. "When you're healed, we can maybe go to Joe's?"

"When I'm healed." You replied, pulling up the corners of your mouth.

#greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy imagines #greys anatomy x reader #greys #jackson avery imagine #jackson avery imagines #jackson avery x reader #request open

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meyeselph · 3 years ago

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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