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watchmegetobsessed · 2 years

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BIG BOSS

A/N: this was inspired by a tiktok i saw a while ago and then venice happened which was just the most amazing ceo content we needed!

WORD COUNT: 6.3k

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend breaks up with you to focus on his career. So you start dating his boss.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

There’s a pep in your steps as you approach the massive office building where your boyfriend, Keegan is working, carrying a single cupcake in a box along with a candle somewhere in your bag. Today is his birthday and you wanted to surprise him with a little something early in the day. He’s been having a rough time at work, staying in late, starting early, you barely even saw him lately, he even canceled your usual date night last Saturday, because apparently he had to finish up some kind of important presentation.

You’re trying to be as supportive and accepting as possible, but it’s taking a toll on you as well, missing the quality time you used to spend together, so that’s why you thought you’d surprise him with this little gesture before you head to work as well.

Keegan works at Pleasing, one of the biggest beauty companies in the world, though he is a finance employee, he has nothing to do with the products. He started just a few months ago and you know it’s a big change after his previous job at a small company, so it obviously comes with a bigger workload.

It’s only your second time in the building, you once brought in a few papers for Keegan he urgently needed, so you’re approaching the stylish front desk a bit nervously.

“Welcome to Pleasing, how can I help you?” the beautiful woman behind the desk asks you with a bright smile.

“Uh, hi! I’m Y/N Y/L/N and I’m looking for Keegan Watson, he works at the finance department.”

“Do you have an appointment with him?”

“No, I’m his girlfriend. Can you just… Just let him know I’m here, please.”

“I’ll ring him up for you. Take a seat,” she gestures towards the colorful couches in the lobby and nodding you decide to sit on the purple one, prepping the cupcake for Keegan’s arrival.

Opening the box you look for the candle in your bag and stick it into the dessert, making sure it’s standing straight. You keep an eye on the elevators and when you see him step out from one of them, you quickly light the candle and turn to face him as he approaches you.

You didn’t expect him to start jumping in happiness, but you hoped for some kind of enthusiasm to see you with the cupcake. However, he is walking towards you with a stone hard expression on his face, as if he is embarrassed to be seen with you here.

Just when you’re about to wish him a happy birthday, he speaks up and the words get stuck in your throat.

“What are you doing here?” he hisses looking around, as if he was checking if anyone saw the two of you.

“I-I just… I wanted to surprise you,” you whisper, completely taken aback by his reaction. “H-Happy birthday.”

Sighing he starts fanning at the candle to put it out, not even blowing it like he was supposed to and then he grabs your wrist and pulls you to the corner of the lobby, the poor cupcake still in your hands.

“You can’t just come here whenever you want to, this is my workplace, Y/N.”

“I just dropped by for a few minutes to give you this, I wasn’t trying to get you to leave work or something.”

“But you came here unannounced, I have shit to do.”

“Do you really? Because you just came down here.” You’re starting to get defensive too at this point. He is treating you like garbage for absolutely no reason.

“Because I didn’t have a choice,” he snaps back. “I’m not the little girl you’re babysitting, I don’t want cupcakes and… sprinkles,” he frowns, looking down at the dessert in your hands as if it was the most disgusting thing he has ever seen. It’s a simple strawberry cupcake with frosting on top and a bit of sprinkles, nothing extra.

“Why are you acting like an asshole? I came here to surprise you on your birthday, we haven’t seen each other in almost a week and this is how you’re treating me?!”

He sighs again and pinches the bridge of his nose before looking down at you.

“Y/N, I think we should take a break.”

All blood drains out of your face as you stare back at him blankly.

“What?” you whisper in disbelief.

“I’m focusing on my career now, I have a lot of work, I don’t think I have the energy and time to be in a relationship right now.”

“You don’t think?” you let out a huff. “Keegan, we’ve been together for eight months, it’s not like we just started dating.”

“I know, but… this is how I feel. I hope you can respect that.”

You’re not entirely sure whether you want to scream and punch him in the face, several times in a row or just curl up in a ball and cry for days. Or maybe you could do them both. But instead, you just bite your wobbling bottom lip and turn away from him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he tries to put a hand to your shoulder, but you step back and out of his reach.

“Leave me alone,” you huff.

“Don’t act like a child, Y/N.”

“Oh, so now I’m acting like a child?” you choke out a laugh, tears rolling down your cheeks. “You’re a fucking asshole, Keegan. Go back to work, apparently, you have shit to do,” you spit, turning away from him.

You hear him clicking his tongue before he finally walks away, leaving you alone to deal with the aftermath of his behavior.

You feel humiliated and used, the way he just ended it all makes you think he never even had any feelings for you while you were so caring and loving towards him for so long and now it all just went down the drain. Eight months of your life, right out the window.

You go back to your bag and put the cupcake into the box, before looking for a tissue, you’re a hot mess in the lobby of a big company, this will probably end up being one of your worst memories.

As you’re packing up to leave with the last remaining pieces of your pride, you spot a man approaching you from the corner of your eyes. He is tall and he is wearing a designer suit along with a pair of expensive looking sunglasses.

“Everything alright, love?” a smooth voice speaks up with a british accent and when you look up you see the tall guy standing just a few feet away from you.

“Yeah. Everything is fucking perfect,” you mumble under your breath, throwing your bag onto your shoulder and grabbing the cupcake box from the coffee table. You stare down at it before turning back to the stranger. “Here, have a treat on me,” you grumble and just hand the box over to him, which he takes with a surprised expression. “Never trust a guy who works in finance,” you comment before walking past the man and leaving the building.

Ninety-nine percent of the time you absolutely love your job as a full-time nanny. You’ve been working with the Browns for five years now, taking care of their daughter, Sally, who was only four when you first started to babysit her. It was just a side job at first, you were working as a waitress after you finished school, but three years ago you became their full-time employee, taking care of Sally during the day while her parents are at work. You love this job, you love Sally and you love working for the Browns, the money is awesome too, so it’s a win-win situation for everyone.

Today, however, you’d love to ditch work and just go home to curl up on your bed and watch sad movies until you feel like you have no tears left to cry. But in the real world you have to suck it up and carry on.

Luckily, Clair is in a hurry when you arrive, so she doesn’t notice your state, she is out the door before she could even take a good look at you. Sally, however, being the tiny genius that she is at the ripe age of nine, immediately sees that something is up.

“Wow, you look awful,” she comments, looking up from her book when you walk into her room.

“Thanks a lot,” you mumble, throwing yourself into the beanbag next to her desk, blowing raspberries into the air as you stare up at the ceiling. “Keegan and I broke up.”

“What?” her eyes widen as she turns in her chair, abandoning the book she was reading when you arrived. For a split second, you feel ridiculous for discussing your breakup with a nine-year-old, but then you tell yourself she is probably more mature than the asshole who just broke up with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, he said that we should have a break. But we all know there’s no such thing as a break in a relationship,” you roll your eyes.

“I never liked him,” she sassily replies.

“Really?” you huff. “What made you dislike him?”

“His vibes were off from the beginning,” she shakes her head, like a professional.

“Excuse me, why didn’t you warn me then?” you gasp dramatically, making you both laugh. “Okay, what do you want to do today?” you ask, hoping to take your mind off of what happened in the morning.

The two of you spend most of the day wandering around in a gallery, then you have lunch near Sally’s favorite park and you take her to the library in the afternoon, leaving with another stack of books she will finish off in probably a week.

Sally really is a genius. She has been homeschooled the past two years and she is already three years ahead of her peers. Her hunger for knowledge has been amusing and truly inspiring, and sometimes maybe a bit scary too. She looks like any normal little girl, but you’re convinced there’s an old man, maybe a professor living inside her and when her original classmates will be starting highschool she might be finishing up college.

You make her dinner and you eat while watching the news, because of course, she hates cartoons. Clair and Simon get home at around eight so you can finally head out. As you’re walking home after you get off the train, everything hits you again and by the time you reach your apartment, you’re fighting your tears again. You grab the ice-cream from your freezer, empty the box while watching the Notebook and then pass out, hugging a pillow tight to your chest.

The next morning you can sleep in a bit, Sally has tennis class and her dad drops her off so you just have to pick her up at eleven thirty, so when you finally make it out of bed at nine you lazily make a coffee and take your time to get ready.

That is until your phone starts ringing.

Checking the caller ID you see an unknown number, so you’re hesitant to answer at first.

“Hello?” you say, holding the phone to your ear.

“Hi, I’m Stella from the front desk of Pleasing. I’m looking for Miss Y/L/N.”

“Um, it’s me,” you reply, but the mention of Pleasing makes your stomach drop. Could this be about Keegan?

“Amazing. Sorry to bother you, but Mr. Styles would like to meet you when you have the time this week.”

“Mr. Styles?” you ask in confusion.

“Harry Styles, the CEO,” she adds and your eyes almost pop out of your head.

“W-What? Am I in trouble? If this is about yesterday, I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have been in the lobby, I promise I won’t go there again!”

“No need to worry, miss. Mr. Styles just wants to have a chat with you, apparently you made a memorable impression on him yesterday,” she chuckles softly.

You made an impression on him yesterday? You start raking through your memories to clear the picture when it finally clicks. The tall man who walked up to you after Keegan left. He asked if you were alright and then you just threw the cupcake at him before storming out of the building.

“Um… well, I-I don’t know, I have to work today…”

“Mr. Styles said he can be flexible and make time for you anytime today.”

“I can drop by at around six today, I think..”

“Amazing! I’ll put you into his schedule, he’ll be waiting for you!”

And with that, the call ends as you stare ahead of you, completely confused about what’s happening.

You’re still in shock when you pick Sally up from her class and as always, she sees right through you.

“What happened? Did Keegan call you or something?” she asks as you take her sports bag and the two of you head to the car you use whenever you’re working. The perks of working for a rich family, for sure.

“He did not, but I got another interesting call this morning.”

You tell her about your conversation with Stella as she climbs into the car and you take the seat behind the wheel, driving off.

“Maybe he wants to offer you a job! Wait, that wouldn’t be too good, please don’t leave us!” she gasps, realizing what she just said.

“I don’t think that’s the case and don’t worry, I’m staying,” you chuckle.

“Okay, then he might want to ask you out.”

“I doubt that,” you scoff. “He saw me crying in his office building’s lobby and then I just shoved a strawberry cupcake into his hands. That’s not very… sexy, I guess.”

“You can’t know for sure,” she shrugs, looking out the window. “But do you think he looks good?”

“If I’m being honest, I don’t actually remember what he looked like. He also had sunglasses on.”

“Then we need to google him when we get home!” she claps her hands.

And that’s exactly what you do. The two of you sit in front of her laptop in her bedroom and you watch her type ‘Harry Styles’ into the search bar. Several articles come up about Pleasing and then there are a few basic information about him on the side along with a few pictures.

“So, what do you think?” Sally asks, clicking on one of the photos. It seems like it was taken at some kind of event, maybe a charity gala and he looks absolutely breathtakingly gorgeous. Behind the sunglasses he has those beautiful green eyes, the cheeky smile was absent yesterday, but it mesmerizes you as he stares back at you from the picture.

When you don’t answer Sally looks at you and sees how you’re staring at the screen.

“Oh, he is totally your type!” she laughs, snapping you out of your thoughts about the Greek god in front of you.

“Uh, I mean… he looks great, yeah,” you nod, very much holding yourself back. “Go back to the details about him.”

Sally clicks back and you read the few things listed. Harry Styles, born and raised in England, CEO of Pleasing. Apparently he is thirty-four years old, which is eight whole years older than you. There’s not much else about him, apparently he likes to keep his private life… well, private.

“I think you should go for it,” Sally tells you, opening up another picture of him.

“We don’t even know why he wants to talk, don’t go so ahead.”

“I’m nine, but it’s obvious even to me that you caught his eyes,” she rolls her eyes.

“Okay, Cupid,” you chuckle. “Alright, enough stalking for today. It’s lunch time.”

The rest of the day goes by as usual and when Simon gets home you can head out, but instead of making your way home, your destination is the Pleasing office building this time. You can’t deny you got the jitters, meeting the CEO of a multimillion dollar company kind of freaks you out, especially after finding out that it was him who came up to you yesterday. What could he possibly want from you?

Walking into the lobby a bitter feeling takes over you, but you try your best to push it to the back of your mind as you approach the front desk where you’re met with the same woman, who you assume to be Stella.

“Hi, I’m here to meet Mr. Styles?”

It comes out as a question, because you still can’t believe he wants to meet you. The woman however doesn’t seem to mind your uncertainty.

“Welcome, Miss Y/L/N. He is waiting for you in his office. Forty-fifth floor, down the hall on the right, but there’s a front desk up there too, if you get lost,” she explains to you nicely.

“Oh, okay, thank you. And… Um, do you happen to know why he wanted to see me?” Stella’s smile stretches a little wider as she cocks her head to the side.

“Judging from the way he demanded to know who you were after meeting you yesterday, you probably caught his eye.”

“Like, in a good sense?”

“Definitely,” she chuckles.

“Okay, but how did you know my number?” you ask, since you did not leave any personal info, only told her your name when you arrived.

“Mr. Styles has great connections. Finding a phone number is not a challenge for him.”

That sounds a bit alarming, but also impressive. Nodding you thank her and then head to the elevators. During your ride up to the forty-fifth floor, which also happens to be the top floor, you’re nervously fidgeting with your fingers, anxiously watching the numbers change on the screen.

34… 35… 36…

Your mind is racing, making up possible scenarios that might happen when you meet him and they vary from the most ridiculous ones to simple ones. Like asking you where you got the cupcake, because he liked it a lot. That would be kind of funny, you think.

The elevator comes to a halt and you hold your breath as the doors slide open and you step out. Just as Stella said, there’s another desk with a woman sitting behind, who smiles up at you when you approach the desk, standing up from her seat.

“You must be Miss Y/L/N. Mr. Styles is waiting for you in his office, right that way,” she gestures towards the massive double doors that have the initials H and S written on them.

“Thank you,” you nod and walk up to the doors where you stop hesitantly. Should you knock or just walk in? You decide to announce your arrival, so you knock twice before you hear a familiar British accent call out from the other side.

“Come in!”

“Here goes nothing,” you mumble before pushing the doors open.

The office you find yourself in follows the design of the whole building, very modern and sophisticated, but still full of colors. The floor-to-ceiling windows give an incredible view of the city, there’s a long conference table on the left, a lounge type of area in front of you with couches and armchairs and what appears to be a minibar and then on the right there’s the massive desk where the man himself is sitting when you step inside.

He looks up and a warm smile stretches across his face as he simply shuts his Macbook down and he stands up, walking around the desk to greet you.

“Ah, Miss Y/L/N, thank you so much for dropping by.” The charming smile he gifts you with makes you swoon and you feel your knees turning into jelly as he approaches you until he is standing in front of you, holding a hand out that you gladly take. He’s got a firm, but welcoming hold as he shakes your hand shortly.

“Um, hi,” you manage to say.

“Would you like to drink anything? Please, take a seat,” he gestures towards the couches as he approaches the minibar.

“Maybe just water. Thank you,” you say as you take a seat on the purple couch that caught your eyes when you walked in and he hands you a tall glass of water a moment later.

“You look a little… startled,” he chuckles softly, as he sits across from you and you feel like you’re at a job interview.

“Because I am. I’m not exactly sure why I’m here, Mr. Styles,” you admit truthfully.

“Please, just call me Harry. And if you don’t mind, I would love to call you Y/N. You have a beautiful name.” “Uh, of course, sure,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips to wet them and you swear you catch him eyeing the motion before his gaze returns to your eyes.

“You’re here because you… completely swept me off my feet, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry?” you ask dumbly, but it’s genuinely your first thought upon hearing his words.

“When we met at the lobby. I know you were upset and angry about something, but you had this incredibly vibrant aura that just pulled me in. That’s why I walked up to you, I needed to get closer to you.”

You stare back at him, just blinking without saying a word. Sally joked about him being into you, but you never thought this would turn out to be the truth.

“I’m sorry if I’m being way too forward, I just couldn’t let you walk out without ever meeting you again. I was really excited when Stella said you agreed to come back.”

“But… we barely spoke two words.”

“I know,” he smiles. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you afterwards.”

“Oh,” is all you can reply as you stare back at him. He seems to find your surprise amusing as he grins back at you before he continues to talk.

“Excuse my bluntness, but I have… never met anyone like you and I know it sounds crazy since this is basically the first time we’re talking, but this is just how I feel. And I would love to get to know you better.”

“Are you asking me out?” you question, making him laugh. He must think you’re dumb or completely clueless when it comes to dating. Which might be the case, since you did not see Keegan breaking up with you, it all came out of the blue.

“I am, yes,” he answers. “I hope you don’t feel too intimidated by it all, how I got you to meet me again, I was truly just… desperate,” he admits with a chuckle. “Would love to take you out to dinner, lunch, breakfast, whatever suits you.”

For a couple of moments you’re just blinking at him blankly, trying to figure out when and why did your life take a full 180. Because this is not something you ever expected to happen to you.

“Um… Well, I actually just got dumped. Like, yesterday. So… dating is not exactly… I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”

His expression changes from amusement to surprise and then to… anger? He cocks his head to the side, keeping his green eyes fixed on you.

“He… he was your boyfriend and he broke up with you.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Suddenly, you feel ashamed, like you did something wrong even though you know Keegan was a dick and it had nothing to do with you. Yet, you still feel the urge to look away, your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he said we should have a break, but everyone knows there’s no such thing,” you shrug, trying to look as unbothered as possible.

Harry stays silent, the gears clearly turning in his head and you’re aching to ask what’s on his mind, when he stands up from his seat and then sits beside you on the purple couch.

“Give me your time and company, please. It doesn’t have to be a date, I just want to get to know you. Give me that privilege and let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

Reaching up he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch is so delicate, you swear you’ve never been touched like that before. By anyone.

“So you don’t mind if… it goes slow?”

“No, not at all,” he smiles softly. “So… will it be breakfast, lunch or dinner?”

“You can’t come in here smiling like a lovesick puppy for a week straight and not tell me the details,” Sally rolls her eyes when you lurk into her room on a Monday morning when her parents leave.

Your grin widens as you sit in the beanbag, your usual spot while she rolls her eyes at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug innocently.

“I’m talking about your new boyfriend.”

“I don’t have one!” you gape at her, but can’t hold your smile back.

It’s the truth, you don’t have a boyfriend. Although… Harry surely feels like more than just a friend to you. It’s been a little over a week since your visit to Harry’s office and his confession about wanting to get to know you. You’ve been seeing him every single day since then. Grabbing coffee in the morning, meeting up for lunch while Sally is in her piano lesson, having dinner at his or your place. Yes, both of those happened. At first you felt nervous about having him over in your tiny but super cozy apartment after seeing the penthouse he lives in. The comparison is ridiculous and you thought he would think less of you, but that’s not who Harry Styles is. In fact, he said he loves spending time with you at your place, because it feels like it’s a piece of you and he feels closer to you. Takeout on your fluffy rug became one of his favorite things you’ve done together.

“You’re unbelievable! I thought we were friends!” she moans, clearly hurt that you’re not sharing anything with her this time. She folds her arms on her chest and for once she actually looks her age instead of a tiny old lady.

“Hey, we are friends!” you tell her, leaning forward to put a hand to her knee. “Do you… do you want to meet him?”

Her face lights up right away as she nods.

Harry told you he has an unusually long lunch break today and if you wanted to, he would love to see you. You told him you’re working and Sally might not be up for lunch in the park, but it seems like she is very much into the idea.

So you text Harry that the two of you would meet him at the food truck that’s at the entrance of the park near his office and he responds just moments later, saying he can’t wait to meet Sally and of course, see you.

“Can you not embarrass me in front of him? In any way?” you ask Sally when the two of you are approaching the park.

“I’ve never embarrassed you,” she states with a stern look.

“Oh, for sure, never,” you scoff. “Remember when we ran into that old classmate of mine in the store and you came up to me asking if I wanted adult diapers instead of the mega pads I put into the basket?”

“That was a genuine suggestion,” she shrugs innocently. “The diaper would have been cheaper.”

“God, why do I even try?” you chuckle, circling an arm around her narrow shoulders as you head towards the food truck.

Harry is already there, exactly on time as always. He is wearing an emerald green fitted suit this time, leaning against a pole as he is typing away on his phone, looking just as breathtakingly got as he always does. It’s been hard to keep yourself to your I-don’t-date-I-was-just-dumped-I-need-time plan and not jump at the man whenever you see him.

“Holy…” Sally mumbles under her breath. “Is that him?” she asks, pointing towards Harry and you grab her hand and push it down before he catches her.

“Yes, but behave, he is not an animal in the zoo.”

“No, but he is… very hot!”

“Right?” you whisper in excitement, not able to hold your smile back. The next moment Harry looks up from his phone and spots you, slipping the device into his pocket without a second thought, pushes away from the pole and walks towards you until you meet.

“Hello, ladies,” he smirks, his eyes skimming over your face before moving to Sally beside you. “You must be the one and only Sally, right?”

“Sarah Lena Joyner, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She sticks her hand out as if she was at a business meeting. People usually find her act weird and frown upon her, but Harry simply takes her hand and shakes it firmly.

“Harry Edward Styles. The pleasure is all mine.” His eyes then return to you and he leans in to press a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. “Hi, Y/N,” he smirks cheekily.

“Hi,” you smile back like a little school girl, as if you were nine and not the girl next to you.

The three of you order your lunch, Sally asks for a hamburger, you get chicken nuggets with fries and Harry settles with a burrito. He pays for all the food and the glasses of sodas he expands the order with and when everything is ready, you take a picnic table that’s behind the truck, enjoying the food.

“Sally, Y/N said you’re an exceptional talent. I heard that you read a lot, what do you like reading about the most?” Harry asks, striking up a simple conversation.

“Mostly the solar system. But I’ve been interested in ancient Greek history as well.”

You can tell he’s a bit taken aback from her answer, but he is quick to control his face as he nods.

“Those are both great topics.”

He asks her more about her interests and Sally gladly tells him about her favorite planet and the million fun facts she has learned about it. You’ve seen adults brush her off and not let her finish, but Harry listens intently, even seems to be learning from the little girl who knows more about Venus than anyone you and probably Harry know. When all the food is gone Sally leaves the table to play by the swings and you let her, because it’s close and you can keep an eye on her. That leaves you alone with Harry.

“Thank you for being so interested in her,” you smile at him sheepishly.

“No need to thank. She is truly a remarkable kid and she’ll do amazing things.”

“I know, but people tend to find her… weird. She is nine and she speaks three languages and can recite the value of pi up to the ninety-fourth digit. Adults can’t really deal with that kind of geniusness.”

“I can see that. But I don’t find myself intimidated by higher knowledge, even if it’s someone who is decades younger than me,” he smirks and your heart skips a beat.

You remember when Keegan met Sally. She was freshly out of her latin class and was telling you about the grammatical rules she learned about in class and you can still see Keegan’s frown as he asked her why she even bothers to learn a dead language.

Sally never talked to him again and you didn’t want to bring him around her either.

So the experience with Harry is now such a relief, though you shouldn’t have even been worried. Harry has proven to be a true gentleman and everything Keegan could never be.

“Hmm, of course,” you smile at him. His green irises match the lush greenery around him and you get lost in them so easily.

“What, is there something on my face?” he asks with a cheeky smile, rubbing his chin, a blush appearing on his cheeks.

“No,” you laugh. “I just…” Reaching up you gently take his chin between your fingers and leaning in you stop just a breath away from his face before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“Miss Y/L/N, I feel like you��re crossing to new territories,” he hums lowly and his voice is just pure honey. Suddenly, you wish you weren’t in a park, but in his or your place so you could explore those new territories.

“Mm, maybe,” you smile before sitting back and keeping your eyes on Sally.

Lunch time can’t last forever, you promised Sally you’d take her to the library and Harry has a meeting too. But you part ways with the promise of seeing each other later the day. You’ll be off nanny duty by six so you agree to come to the office, meet with Harry and then have dinner together again at his place.

And something is telling you that tonight you might actually conquer those new territories.

Sally smiles at you knowingly when you leave their home once Simon has arrived back from work and you just bid goodbye with a smirk before heading to the Pleasing office building. You text Harry on your way and he tells you to just wait for him at the lobby, he is finishing up his paperwork for the day.

You walk in and the girl behind the front desk just smiles at you, already knowing you’re here to see Harry. You wave at her and then take a seat, grabbing a magazine from the table to flip through while you wait. The minutes pass by, you’re minding your own business and you wouldn’t even notice Keegan if he didn’t spot you and decided to come up to you.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he snaps at you, as if he just caught you robbing a bank.

“That’s none of your–”

“Are you stalking me? This is fucking insane, Y/N,” he huffs, looking around to check if anyone is watching you, but it’s quite late, most of the employees have left the building already.

“Stalking?” you laugh in disbelief. “I’m not here to–”

“This is my workplace, you can’t just waltz in here to spy on me.”

“I’m not fucking spying on you, you idiot!” you finally manage to get out a full sentence. “I would be stupid to want to see you again.”

“Oh, and I’m supposed to believe that?” he scoffs and your palm is itching to gift him with a slap across his face. You’re just about to tell him what to believe when a smooth, low voice speaks up.

“Is there a problem?” Harry questions in a calm, collected tone, but you can tell he is trying his hardest to contain his anger upon seeing Keegan, whose face falls completely when he sees the big boss behind him.

“Mr. Styles, hi! There’s no problem, I’m very sorry if we bothered you. Me and my friend were just about to leave–”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Harry says, his eyes moving to you and they immediately soften at the sight of you. “Y/N, is this man bothering you?”

Keegan’s face falls as he dumbly looks at Harry, then at you and back at Harry who is now standing next to you, one arm around your waist.

“Wait, are you… what…” Keegan stutters in disbelief and you can feel your petty self coming out.

“Well, you said you wanted to focus on your work and career. Totally fine, but I decided to date your boss. I hope you don't mind.”

You flash your sweetest smile as you melt against Harry, curling your arms around his waist as he squeezes you gently to let you know he’s here to support you.

Keegan gapes at the two of you for long moments, it’s kind of comical and when it seems like has completely lost his voice from the shock, Harry speaks up.

“I assume I should thank you for being an asshole, because I got to meet Y/N this way. Still, if you ever go near her again, I’ll make sure you’ll be replaced by the next day and won’t find a job anywhere in the city. Understood?”

“I-I… Yes, sir.” He gulps nodding and walks away so fast, he’s almost running.

“Are you okay?” Harry murmurs when Keegan is gone, his hands softly taking your face in his palms.

“Yeah, I am,” you nod and you actually mean it. “That was really… hot,” you grin at him, smoothing your palms over his chest, feeling up the hard muscles under your touch.

“And you just said you’re dating me. Thought you’re not ready for that just yet,” he smirks down at you, his face inching closer to yours slowly.

“Changed my mind,” you shrug innocently and you’re just about to press your lips against his when he pulls back.

“It’s not just so you can get back to your ex, right?” he asks and you swear you can see his heart breaking as he awaits your answer.

“I changed my mind in the park today. But it’s been a process and you proved to be worthy of my heart with everything you did.”

You watch his lips stretch into a smile as relief washes over him before he finally closes the gap between the two of you, his lips pressing oh so sweetly against yours, kissing you softly at first before becoming more and more needy, devouring you with his lips.

Unfortunately, you remember that you’re still in the lobby of his office building, so you should not get carried away too much.

“Do you think that maybe I could spend the night at yours after dinner tonight?” you ask, speaking against his soft lips.

“Absolutely. Tonight, tomorrow, any day for the rest of our life,” he smirks before pressing another kiss to your mouth, then he takes your hand and the two of you leave the lobby you never thought would hold such a special place in your heart.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles blurb

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writer-of-random-things · 5 months

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Moriarty is Not Holmes' Greatest Adversary

Okay, hear me out.

Moriarty is a formidable opponent to Holmes, yes. In fact, Holmes and Watson have to take a totally calm and relaxing sightseeing trip across Europe to escape him. But at least Holmes had a plan; it was solely his logic against Moriarty's logic (and maybe a bit of martial arts in front of the Reichenbach).

But Moriarty doesn't hold a candle to Baron Aldebert Gruner (from 'The Illustrious Client') and Charles Augustus Milverton. Let me explain.

Even though Holmes detested Moriarty for everything he represented, he respected the professor as well. I think he even refers to Moriarty as "esteemed" in an unironic way in one of the stories (it was either EMPT or FINA, I'm not sure). But the case still stands. For the first time, Moriarty was well and truly his equal, so much so that Holmes would like to retire if he defeated him.

Yet Gruner and Milverton are different. They don't have criminal organizations; they aren't masterminds. They just revel and profit off of the suffering of other people. It makes them the vilest antagonists in the canon--Holmes knows this too. When he faces the both of them, he doesn't outwit or outrun them, like he tries to do with Moriarty. They are past outwitting or threats; not only do Gruner and Milverton make people suffer, they do not see what is wrong in continuing to do so. Therefore, Holmes resorts to burglary to try and stop both these men, because he is stumped. Even with his great brain, he cannot understand how Milverton and Gruner can be so commonly, if not casually, evil; as a last resort, he tries to stop them by taking what is incriminating (Gruner's disgusting 'book of women', Milverton's blackmail letters).

So Holmes' treatment of cases in ILLU and MILV are important; but I also want to draw attention to Kitty Winter and *that* unamed woman that turned Milverton into a piece of swiss cheese, because they are a) underappreciated favorites of mine and b) they also show a lot about Holmes and subsequently his attitude on Gruner and Milverton.

Holmes does not seem to mind that Kitty Winter threw a bottle of acid in Gruner's face. Neither does he mind that *that* woman did her swiss-cheese thing. In ILLU, it is mentioned that he defends Kitty in order to get her the lightest consequences for the acid-throwing, and he straight-up destroyed all of Milverton's blackmail papers. Holmes does this not only because he tends to go by his own moral compass in cases such like this, but he also recognizes the gross wrongdoing of his adversaries. This, I think, is what make the Holmes stories so special to me: it's not just about a genius defeating evil. It's about a man with a peculiar brain and an uncanny knack of observation, a man who is distant and lonely at times; but whatever happens, he'll always stand on the side of the wronged, even if society deems it otherwise.

#acd holmes #acd canon #acd sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #charles augustus milverton #kitty winter #ILLU #MILV

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mathanlin · 7 months

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Fae/Foster AU where Fae aren’t trusted to speak for fear of making deals — and so each foster family is given the Fae’s name to immediately mute them. Like Tommy, the unwanted Changeling.

And yet the Watsons let him communicate.

By… writing on a cheap plastic whiteboard.

It’s an incredible gift.

He’s practically giddy with joy, scrawling out words that someone *finally* listens to. And not just anyone — the kindest, sweetest people the world has to offer.

And selfishly, Tommy wants more.

“Thank you.”

He holds the whiteboard out to Phil after supper. He’s eaten their food & thanked them, gave them so much power. As if his name wasn’t enough.

Phil… smiles. At *Tommy,* the inhuman, unwanted creature.

And that makes the silence worth it.

Almost.

Because it hurts.

To not be able to laugh during meals. To not banter with Wilbur or ramble with Techno. (Even when they say, “You’re a great listener, Tommy.”

Because that’s all he is.)

And to know that if he ever said, “I love you,” it would be accompanied by the acrid stench of the marker.

And silence. Always silence.

That’s what makes him desperate enough to try.

“Hey, mate.”

Phil turns around, halfway through a sink of dishes. His smile falters to a look of concern as he sees Tommy’s hunched, shaking frame.

And that concern evaporates as he sees the message scrawled on Tommy’s whiteboard.

“Can I have my voice back?”

Tommy’s stupid enough to hope.

That maybe a year with the Watsons was enough. That maybe he’d gained their trust through his quiet help & shaky smiles. By being *easy.*

But Phil’s face tightens, grip tightening on the silverware in his hand.

They’re thinking the same thing, Tommy knows.

Fae are dangerous. It’s a good thing there’s iron everywhere — if worse came to worse, they could ward off Tommy with it.

(What Phil doesn’t know is that Tommy would let them.

That he’d take the pain and rejection silently.)

“We need to talk.”

It’s not said to Tommy. It doesn’t involve him at all. Just Phil and his sons who he’s called to the living room, voice quiet as Tommy eavesdrops.

That doesn’t make the words any less gutwrenching.

“You can’t let Tommy speak.”

The twins tense, but they… they don’t even argue.

Phil’s jaw tightens. “He tried to ask me. You two have his name, too, he’ll go after you next. We can’t risk anything.”

What isn’t said is, *He’s too dangerous to trust.*

But they all know it.

Tommy somehow gets quieter.

Because horribly, it makes sense. The Watsons can’t risk their family falling into a dangerous Fae deal.

And even if they did give his voice back, he’d be different. Too loud, too bubbly, too desperate for their love.

So he cuts his losses.

“Just for one day.”

It’s Wilbur he approaches, months after Phil’s warning. The boy looks up at Tommy, his incredible, undeserved fondness masked by confusion.

“One day for what?”

*To have my voice back,* is the true answer.

But there’s more. So much more. *To say I love you. To call Phil Dad, just once. To call you and Techno my brothers. Just one day to speak, and all I’ll say is how much I love you.*

*I’ll be quiet after that.*

“To have my voice back.”

In the end, that’s all he writes. There’s not enough space to write out all those vulnerable truths, the stench of the marker making him dizzy.

And Wilbur’s face falls.

“Tommy.”

He sounds… doubtful. Tommy’s heart dares to rise, hands shaking as Wilbur stands, face drawn tight with grief, pain, and… guilt?

It only takes a second for that last emotion to make sense.

Because Wilbur snatches the whiteboard from his hands.

“You can’t be trusted with it.”

That’s Wilbur’s explanation as he stalks down the hallway, Tommy clinging to his side, mouth desperately forming muted apologies.

And when Wilbur hands the whiteboard to Phil, those damning words still scrawled across it, Phil says the same.

That’s not the end of it.

The notebooks around the house are taken. So are any scraps of paper, loose pens, pencils, or markers.

And Phil, voice thick with grief, orders, “Tommy, don’t try to talk to us again.”

It didn’t have to be an order. Tommy would’ve listened.

But the end result is the same. Tommy stays silent, buried in his room, unable to even cry out. To ask for *anything,* let alone the chance to say, “I love you.”

And like this, he’s lost the chance to ever hear it, too.

#dsmp #dsmp au #sbi #sbi au #threadfic #tommyinnit #technoblade #mcyt #wilbur soot #philza

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under-loch-n-key · 2 months

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Longggg Sherlock & Co plot rant. You have been warned.

I know the creator of Sherlock & Co. found the idea of writing Moriarty into the series intimidating. Plus, not knowing how to do Sherlock's "death" over a podcast and such. But I had an idea.

I love the idea of Professor Moriarty being some sort of hacker/online troll and MORIARTY is the name of a dark web corporation that is trying to hack into the Sherlock & Co. Company to send Sherlock puzzles/cases. You lot know those shady anon hackers on the dark web in films and certain websites? Like that.

I think it would be cool if at first Moriarty leaves hate/weird comments on John's podcasting sites and Watson just thinks it is some hater and thinks nothing of it and deletes the comments. He just grumbles about the comments being a continous thing.

Suddenly the comments stop. Watson isn't complaining about it, he is relieved by that because they were really annoying him. (no matter how many times Sherlock & Mariana told him to ignore them.)

Later on, Watson gets these emails from an unknown email of some shady guy (Moriarty) taunting Sherlock (and the rest of the company) and sending them on goose chase cases (Like the BBC did in that one episode with the phone calls, in a way?)

When Moriarty becomes the main centre of the podcast episodes, instead of Sherlock dying, he gets kidnapped by Moriarty's network. Watson and Mariana embark on and have to solve their most important case yet "Where is Sherlock Holmes?" This would give us some cool dynamics and more screentime between Watson and Mariana.

Watson starts to panick because he thinks he isn't like Sherlock and Sherlock did tell him that he would never be able to figure out stuff the way he could. Mariana is there to support and be there for him. Watson and Mariana have to channel their inner Sherlock Holmes to solve the case.

Idk whether I like the idea of Sherlock expecting this to happen and leave behind clues in some way. I do know though, that I like the idea of the following cases being them trying to work on finding Sherlock.

When they do, Sherlock is banged up and Sherlock tells him "I trusted that you would find me, Watson. You really are a persistent fellow."

And Watson just runs up and hugs him and Mariana joins in and they are just mother henning him like crazy.

Watson tells Sherlock "Don't do that to me again. Don't disappear on me again, you hear?"

And Sherlock is like "It's not like I was expecting to kidnapped, John. Besides, your podcast wouldn't last without me."

Watson just huffs and tells him "No, no, it wouldn't. Just come here," and then goes to hug him again.

Mariana pulls away from them both in realisation and she tells them "Boys, I don't mean to break up our moment, but we still do have one problem."

They both look at her and Sherlock nods and says "Moriarty. He's still out there."

I want it to be implied that they came face to face while Sherlock was kidnapped.

"He? Sherlock, you saw him?" Watson replies.

"Indeed, Watson and I think I know where he'll be waiting next."

*cue Sherlock & Co. End of episode music.*

Anyways, then we get to the episode of the Reichenbach fall, they have their final facedown. Sherlock doesn't die, but Moriarty does fall.

Watson would 100% be grumbling about how he can't pick up any audio over the sound of the falls.

Sherlock and Moriarty would begin fighting and Watson would start describing the scene in a panicked tone.

Sherlock calls over "Not helping, Watson!"

After more sounds of fighting and nervous ramblings from Watson. Sherlock & Moriarty turn the corner of the falls into a blind spot.

All Watson hears and sees is a cry and someone fall and crash into the water.

Watson panicks and shouts "SHERLOCK!" then dashes up to where they were fighting. Sherlock is sitting down and catching his breath.

Sherlock would probably make a smartarse comment like "Ah, John. Glad you make it. Help me up will you?"

"You're not dead."

"Clearly, or else we wouldn't be speaking. Now, would you please help me up?"

"Right, yeah." Watson helps him up.

"So, you, erm, you killed him?"

"I did. His baritsu was lacking, so his demise was inevitable."

"You're a clever, bugger, mate. Now, lift home?"

"Yes, of course."

I think it would be funny if the episode ended like this. They get home and Mariana starts mother-henning them both and she is scolding them both in Spanish about being more careful, how much she cares for them both, etc. Then she hugs them both.

Later on, we cut to them sitting in their chairs and talking about, well, everything.

"It's good to have you home, you know? I- well, Mariana and I both missed you."

"Mm. It's good to be home, Watson. I prefer the smell of our flat to the vile odour of where I was."

"Do you want to talk about it? Because, I, erm, am always here if you need a good talk."

"Not at the moment, Watson, but I will keep that in mind."

Long pause.

"So, Moriarty's network.. is it?-"

"Gone? Mm. No, but it will be taken care of."

"How? They are bloody HUGE, Sherlock. Shouldn't we, I don't know, contact Lestrade? Actually, the whole bloody Scotland Yard?"

"They're useless here, Watson. I'll leave this to the government."

"The government? Sherlock, we both know what they are. The government is not reliable in the slightest."

"Mm. The government you are discussing, yes. They are indeed unreliable, but in this instance I am discussing a WHO not a what."

"Friends in high places?"

"No. Much much worse."

"Oh, erm, an enemy then?"

"Mycroft is not an enemy, but certainly not a friend."

"What the devil is a 'Mycroft'?"

"My brother."

There's a long silence in the audio

"YOUR WHAT!?"

*Cue end of episode music*

I think this concept would be a cool way to be introduced to Mycroft, Watson realising his capibilities since meeting Sherlock, more screentime with Mariana and John's friendship, a way to do the podcast without killing Sherlock and having the time gap between Sherlock's "death" and resurrection, etc.

If you made it to the end of my Sherlock & Co plot concept ramble, good for you. Lol. Anyway, I just thought this would be a cool concept. The rant kinda blended into a fic, but oh well.

Do you lot like this idea? I thought it would be neat.

If John (or even the creator of Sherlock & Co) sees this ever, I will spontaneously combust. 😳

Enjoy my story/plot rant-

(Sorry for any typos, I am sick and half-asleep)

(I am so normal about them, I swear-)

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phantasmagoria-in-neverland · 9 months

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Until Eternity.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Reader.

Synopsis: Miguel has lost you once before, back on your original Earth. Then lost you again, when he found a reality in which the two of you, and your newfound darling daughter, were finally happy. Now, in one final act of selfishness, he has found you one last time, and he is not going to let you go. Not for the entire Multiverse. or alternatively I loved you once, I loved you twice, I loved you in my previous lives.

Genre and Warnings: Angsty with a happy ending, more or less. Miguel has a whole lot of issues, what's new. He is also kind of obsessed. There may be some inaccuracies when it comes to the back story, I'm not 100% sure. Also, Gabriella is described to be the Reader’s and Miguel's daughter, but I steered clear of any implication that she has been birthed by the reader, she could very well be adopted.

A/N: This fic was written while listening to “Until Eternity by Blackbriar” on repeat; for an optimal reading experience, get some earphones on and enjoy!

At the beginning of every story, Spider-Man falls in love. Peter Parker has Mary Jane Watson, Miles Morales has Gwen Stacy, and Miguel O'Hara has you. And at the end of every story, Spider-Man’s heart is left in pieces. Mary Jane Watson leaves, Gwen Stacy dies, and you…

Miguel doesn't let himself think of you too often, he likes to tell himself it is because he is learning how to move on, to heal, but most days, he simply can't handle your memory. Every reminder of you weighs down on his heart just as much as it keeps him moving forward.

He wishes he could remember you the way you would want, with a smile on his face, and the taste of all the good times on his tongue. And that is how it starts, when he allows himself the chance to look through the pictures of you he collected over the years, it is only when he reaches the end that his heart breaks all over again… when he remembers your deaths. Both of them.

The first time Miguel O’Hara fell in love with you, as it is destined to be, happened on your original Earth, Earth-928. The two of you were young and foolish, him, overly ambitious and with a newly discovered power at his fingertips, and you, content to live your life day by day, enjoying the little things and uncaring of the greater powers at play.

Still, you had fallen for each other and fallen fast. You had known from the moment you met that you would be each other’s forever, and even now, so many years later, Miguel could attest to that truth.

At the time, he had not thought, not even for a second, that you could be taken away from him; had not known it would be the sum of all of his mistakes that would kill you.

In hindsight, the older version of himself, the one who has spent years researching the Canon Events, can tell that it had been obvious. In every version of the story, it is always Spider-Man that brings about his own ruin, and it is always Spider-Man, the mask first, and the man behind it second, that kills the love of his life.

It comes easy now, to think of all the things he could have done differently, to see each and every mistake he has made along the way glaring back at him.

Had he been a more attentive boyfriend, had he realized you were as mortal as anyone else, had he not focused only on his ambitions, maybe that night, you wouldn't have been left to walk home alone in the dark, listening to the voicemail he left you that promised you ‘he would make it up to you’. Had he been a better Hero, he wouldn't have lost sight of his origins, wouldn't have left all the small time criminals to be handled by the police because he had ‘more important fights to take care of’. If he had been cleaning the streets as he had promised himself he would do, then maybe he would have caught that mugger before he shot you. And had he been a better man, he wouldn't have searched all across the city for the man who took you from him, would have taken him to prison instead of killing him with his own hands, wouldn't have dishonored your memory in such a way.

But Miguel had spent too long holding your cold body cradled to his chest, spent too long scrubbing your blood out of his hands, and too long crying against your headstone, pleading to anyone above for a second chance, to care.

Miguel took what little comfort he could get: you died as you had lived, kindly. Your focus, your worry, was on him all throughout your last breaths, not a moment spent caring for your blood staining the pavement. You died pleading for him to keep living his life to the fullest, wiping away his tears with a gentle hand, steady even through the pain you must have been in, even with how much strength every movement required.

“Promise me you'll move on.” you begged him, even when the last thing you'd heard out of him was an empty promise.

And so Miguel lied. He told you that he would never forget you, that had been the truest thing to ever come out of his mouth, and perhaps it was what helped him sell what came next. It was in a shaky breath that he swore he would keep smiling for you, that had been a conscious lie, worth it to see the way your face relaxed, for you to leave in peace.

And yet, in your last moments Miguel realized he had been the one to kill you, and he never knew peace again.

So yes, he could easily admit to all the mistakes he had made, and he had paid for them greatly. When you went, all the joy in the world left with you, and Miguel, who'd been left behind, became a shadow of the man he used to be.

When he discovered a way to travel through the multiverse, his first thought had been to find you, the second one, was a promise to himself that he'd never go looking for you. Not only there was no guarantee that any other version of you would be the you he had lost, there was also the very high probability that where there was a you there would also be another him. He would not mess with your life simply because he could not find a way to live without you, he had to bear the consequences of his own actions, and that was final.

Up until the second time Miguel O’Hara fell in love with you, not that he had ever stopped, on an Earth not your own.

He had only been looking for a quiet place to retire to, which had nothing to do with you, and could not find anywhere to stay for longer than a few months, nowhere felt right, which also had nothing to do with you.

When the lies he tells himself, and you, start piling up, Miguel lies again: when he looks at himself in the mirror and pretends he doesn't hate the man he sees.

It wasn't until he saw himself die that his life clicked back into place, and something felt right again. Now there wasn't only a him without you, but also a you without him.

Coming back home to you, even though your house was much less advanced then it had been, and he couldn't begin to recall a single memory portrayed in the photographs on the walls, even though he was impersonating your newly dead husband and praying to all the gods he could name that you wouldn't notice, and the two of you had had a daughter he had never even met, felt like spring after a never ending winter, like rebirth. The day he saw you again, for the first time since your death, Miguel thought the world to be kind.

Your life together, that Miguel now clinged so tightly to, was great for a time. A fairytale really, the future you had both dreamed of when you were still young and naïve, when you had still been you, and the happiest place in the world was the treehouse in the garden of the home you had grown up in and hoped to pass to your child. When late at night, he allowed himself some confessions, a whisper of a daughter to name Gabriella, and all the things he would teach her.

And even though here your treehouse was never built, and you spoke a little differently than he remembered, your dream remained, and Gabriella, your pride and joy since before she was even born, was alive in your arms.

Of course, to preserve the perfection, both of you had to look the other way more than once, and act as if you could not see the dark, obvious truths.

Miguel refused to even attempt to explain why the husband you had thought you knew everything about, suddenly began waking up screaming every other night, why he had nightmares so dark his chills only went away at daybreak. Why he held you as if you would vanish without a warning, why his eyes seemed unable to ever stray from you for more than a few seconds at a time, why he refused to let you walk alone at night as if the world itself would cave in if you did. Why, when you happily recalled events of your shared past, he didn't chime in as much as he used to, why when Gabriella asked all about how you met, your first kiss and your wedding day, he let you do all the talking; You'd have thought his love was diminishing if he didn't smile through every memory as if the sun itself had blossomed on his lips, if he didn't look at the two of you as if you were the meaning of life given form.

So, it was easy to ignore the paranoia, and the fear in his eyes. The way he seemed to walk cautiously through every action, as if afraid to step on fate's toes, and you could not begin to think of a single reason why he would, why he could not look at you without fearing that one wrong movement could rip all this happiness out of his fists all over again.

Miguel would not allow, if it was the last thing he ever did, all the years spent together you could not remember, and all the memories you had of him he had not lived through, to be a problem. He could learn how to be the Miguel you loved… the one that wasn't Spider-Man.

Until the problem became fate itself.

Unknown to him at the time, breaking the Canon is not a forgivable action. When he had substituted himself to the Miguel of your Earth, he had interfered with destiny itself, and that was one more mistake he'd regret for the rest of his life to add to the already long heavy list.

When the world started crumbling around you, even with all his power, all Miguel could do was hold his family close and hope that he could at least shield you from the disaster. But as usual, his hopes are in vain and his prayers go unanswered, as everything he has ever wanted disappears right in front of his eyes once more.

And exactly like the last time, you prove yourself kind above anything else; kind when you whisper sweet reassurances in Gabriella’s ears, kind when you worry over his well being, kind when all you fear for is your family even when the one closest to fading out of existence is you, and Miguel is perfectly fine. Kinder then he could ever deserve, when even then, you keep looking at him relieved to see him alright.

“It’s going to be alright mis amores, I promise.” And though he means every single shaky word that comes out of his mouth, you look at him with tenderness and resignation in your eyes, as if you knew better, as if you pitied the day he'll realize the truth. But your daughter relaxes slightly in your hold, and the last thing he sees before you disappear is the grateful smile you give him.

Once again, Miguel had lost everything because of himself.

In a twisted way, sometimes he wanders which time was harder: the first time, when he had actually thought himself invincible, when he firmly believed the two of you capable of a happy ever after, what an idiot, or the second time, when he already knew what it felt like to lose you, when he calculated each and every one of his actions to prevent it from happening again, when he had even more to protect then the first time. He could never give himself an answer.

But the truth is, Miguel can't accept what he has lost. Can't accept that it is over, no matter how much he knows you’d want him to. Can't accept that the more he tries to fight fate, the harder his losses hit, the harder it fights back.

Maybe it is the broken promises that hurt the most, each one of them a failure, a reminder that no matter how powerful he becomes and no matter how much he tries, he’ll never be able to keep you by his side. But although Miguel is many things, many of which he is not proud of, he is not a quitter.

He spends most of his time since your death carefully erecting a Spider Society, to help prevent what happened to you, because of him, to happen anywhere else. Because who else other than him could do it? Who else knows the consequences, the destruction, as intimately as him? Who else could shoulder this responsibility better than the man with nothing left to lose?

And although Miguel does try not to think of you too often, you never, not for a second, leave his mind. And neither does the idea of trying again, of doing right by you, this time.

When she figures out what he has been silently planning, Lyla tries to dissuade him the best she can, afraid that if you were to die in his arms one more time, there would be nothing, no part of Miguel left to salvage. He hears none of it.

No matter how much she begs him to see reason, she cannot get him to even think of it before dismissing all of her concerns, and that is when Lyla realizes that the only thing that is keeping Miguel moving forward, that is keeping him together, is the idea of being reunited with you. So she keeps her mouth shut, afraid he might break if she didn’t, and never once stops fearing the day history will repeat itself, and put the final nail in his coffin.

When he finds you again Miguel is at the end of his rope, and it is starting to become plain to see for everyone around him. Keeping the multiverse together pretty much single handedly, no matter the ridiculous amount of spiders he recruits, is all but draining what little life he had left out of him, and the thought of being able to hold you again is the only thing that keeps him from crashing. Every single free second he has, that become less and less the further apart the Multiverse falls, is spent looking for you.

Then Miguel O’Hara falls in love with you one last time, more desperately than he ever has before, and not only your Earth but Destiny itself shake because of it.

This time, much has changed. Miguel is no longer the man you have fallen for time and time again, he is something a little twisted now, something unfamiliar. He is a man weighed down by his losses, and he knows that it will only take you one look at him to realize that, he can only hope you'll be willing to look away once more.

Still, nothing else matters when he finds you; you're all he can think of. He looks at you and his lungs fill with air for the first time since you went.

You are different too, he can tell even from afar, your style is different, the way you carry yourself is different, but most of all, your eyes are much sadder than he remembers and for a second he can't help but wonder if you've lost him too. If this is what you look like when you're the one left behind.

The answer to that question comes quickly. For as much as he wants nothing more in the world than run straight into your arms and never leave again, he makes himself wait long enough to observe. His assumptions were wrong, this Earth's Spider-Man is alive, you aren't alone… although you might as well be.

He should have left, the moment he found out you already had him, he should have left. And he would have, would have left you to your life, keeping his damned claws out of it, would have left this Earth, if with an unsalvageable heart, and never looked back, if only you were happy here. But you aren't, he has seen it.

Had he spent just a little less time watching you, observing, making sure you were content and safe, had he left any sooner, he would have never even known you already had a Miguel. Because your, and that word tastes acidic in his mouth, Miguel is far more content being Spider-Man than he is spending time with you.

In the two weeks Miguel has been… watching over you, your boyfriend, he took the time to check for a ring on either one of your fingers, the pendejo couldn't even bother to marry you, has missed a grand total of four date nights, a frankly uncountable amount of calls, and has made you worry sick in front of the TV watching the news for updates on his health. Miguel’s blood boils just thinking about it, and by the defeated gaze you've been wearing the entire time, this is nothing new.

He doesn't cherish you, that is an obvious truth. He has no idea how much he could lose, has no idea just how much could be ripped away from his fingers, regardless of how good of a Hero he becomes, he doesn't even realize that you are without a shred of doubt the best thing that ever has or ever will happen to him. Miguel has never wanted to punch another version of himself so badly in his entire life.

If something were to happen to you, your Miguel would not find out about it for who knows how long, Hell, he has been watching you for weeks without him noticing, if he were to take you away right now he… Miguel, he would treat you right, he would give you all of his love and attention, every second of his time. You would never be left wanting for anything, least of all him. He knows exactly how important you are, exactly what it feels like when you're taken away and the world caves under him, on top of him, loses all its meaning.

He doesn't let himself think, not even for a moment, that in your original timeline he might have acted the same, just as cold and uncaring. Doesn't want to think that he might have left you sitting all night on a stiff couch, waiting for someone that will never arrive, doesn't want to think that he might have been the cause of the cascades of silent sobs that inevitably follow in the morning, when you're left with broken promises and not even a text to greet you. And most of all he doesn't want to think that you might have loved him anyway, through every slight, unconditionally.

He doesn't want to think of it and so he doesn't, even though it weighs heavy in the back of his mind as he prepares for the mission he has dubbed "your rescue".

The plan is simple, all too easy for him, that has already pretended to be another version of himself before, just to be by your side, always to be by your side. This is nothing but a… tiny inconvenience. He only has to pretend to be your boyfriend, your sorry, changed boyfriend, and convince you to follow him. He'll explain what he can later, once you're settled in the home you used to share in your original dimension that he still lives in.

Things will be rough for a while, he won't pretend otherwise, this change is going to need some time to get used to, but you will be loved, and he will be complete, and whatever it takes it will all work out in the end.

Miguel doesn't think of the ways it ended before, there is no need, he knows better now. This time it will work out because he wouldn't survive if it didn't, because there is nothing, nothing he would not do, nobody he would stop at to keep you alive. And most of all he doesn't think of your baby girl, of the daughter he has lost that you've never even met, soon enough it won't matter anyway. With you in his arms once more, the way it was always meant to be, he will make absolutely sure that you will have all the time in the world to bring Gabriella back.

When he gathers enough courage to enter your apartment, the smell of you that he has missed so dearly hits him in the guts so hard he has to keep himself from doubling over. The tears in his eyes are a little harder to conceal, but he hopes they might play in his favor, as he sees you hurry towards the door with a shout of his name, and he braces himself for your screams. You have every reason to be angry, you don't know any better, if you want to chew him up he will let you without complaint.

Still, the anger never comes. Even though you should want to punch him in the face, and you look like you do, you run to hug him with no hesitation, relieved. There are tears streaming down your face and you're looking at him as if he had stabbed you with his own hands, Miguel’s anger reaches an all time high at the sight. There is no time to find your boyfriend for a… stern talking to, not now that you need him, but his blood won't cool down anytime soon. In the future, he just might come back for a visit.

When he looks at you, his expression is softer than you've ever seen it, even he would know that, and he's holding you with the gentleness and care of a porcelain doll, he has to stop his hands from trembling when he raises them to caress your face. The curve of your nose is slightly different, he notes distractedly. He should have known better than to think you'd let your anger show, he had always been the one to scream and rage, and you had your tears and silent disappointment. He is left wondering which one hurt the other the most, the thought goes away just as fast as it came, he won't let any of this ever happen again.

“Miguel, are you alright?” your voice is soft, tentative, like you know that there's something different, that something has changed, subconsciously you probably do. It's enough to gather Miguel's complete attention, and that must be strange as well.

“Of course querida, forgive me for making you worry.” he hasn't felt this good since the last time he held you.

“I thought you had to stay at work late today.”

“Yes, well, it was about time I came home for a while. I missed you.” you can't begin to imagine how profoundly he means that.

“A while?” you sound so hopeful it breaks his heart, and renews his conviction, he couldn't bear to leave now, not without you.

“I was thinking of… a little vacation of sorts, a lengthy one. To spend some time together, make up for lost time.” then as an afterthought, because of all the things he's done and should apologize for this isn't one of them, he adds “Para mostrarte cuanto lo siento.”

You don't seem to hear the way he sounds a little out of his mind, don't see that what was supposed to be a reassuring smile looks more like a manic grin. He can't find it in himself to care, even though Lyla is here too, and she's looking at him with pity and a hint of badly disguised fear in her eyes. She shouldn't be able to show, or feel, this much emotion yet she does, and he lets her. It's good to see himself reflected into someone else's eyes, even when he blinds himself to it.

When you smile at him as if he'd just handed you the world, happy laughter filling the room that makes Miguel's breath hitch in his throat, he knows he has done the right thing. This time, he'll protect your kindness to his last breath, to anyone else's last breath, you'll never have to part again. Miguel laughs with you, a sound even he had forgotten, and holds you tight to his chest, as if he could hide you in it and protect you from all harm. All he can think of, as you leave, is that if your Earth were to collapse because of it, right in front of his eyes, at least you'd be safe. At least you'd be safe.

#phantasmagoria and storytelling 🥀#gender neutral reader #gn reader #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara fic #spider verse fanfic #miguel o'hara one shot #miguel o'hara angst #miguel o'hara fluff #miguel x reader

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jhilsara · 2 months

Text

I Can See You

Pt. 1/ Pt. 2/ Pt. 3/ Pt. 4/ Pt. 5/pt. 6/Pt. 7/Pt. 8/Pt. 9/ Pt. 10/

Pt. 11/ Pt.12/Pt.13/Pt. 14/Pt.15/Pt.16/Pt.17/END

Mariana Jimenez-Watson or MJ works in a normal pub living life paycheck to paycheck. Nothing exciting happens to her except the occasional drunk getting thrown out. She's 24 working away and finds a wrench thrown into her very boring life. His name is Hobie and she thinks maybe, a little excitement isn't awful. In fact she might start to crave some change for once.

Small moments of Hobie meeting his world's MJ. AKA I made an MJ variant and I think she's neat.

Chapter 5

Life threatening events were not on her bucket list. In fact, MJ was content to mind her business and talk to pub patrons. She was happy to come in, pours some pints, make a cocktail, chat up the patrons and learn their stories, and then roll on home in the early morning hours. That was her routine every single day, she liked it that way. Her life wasn't supposed to be filled with crazy events and super villains. She was just a normal woman working in a small pub.

So why the hell does stuff just keep happening to her?

She’s been exhausted for the past two weeks, and it's not from any freak run ins with her local vigilante. To her surprise it's because of a single patron who started coming to the pub. Usually MJ is okay with the occasional drunkard. They always have at least one every other night.

MJ’s favorites are posted in small polaroid pictures behind the bar top that Andy has taken. The pub keeps a polaroid camera as a little gimmick for busy weekends. Andy will walk around to the tables and snap pictures of friends and couples. It’s just a cute extra thing they like to do, keeps patrons longer. The owner pays for the film and Andy likes talking to people. It’s a win-win. Especially the wall of shame, which has pictures of the unruly drunk bastards they’ve kicked out. It's her favorite photo section secretly, the faces they make when Andy points the flash at them is really entertaining.

They have a new regular though and he drinks every night until her or Andy cuts him off. That's not uncommon, to have people come in and be cut off after an obscene amount of alcohol. It's not just the fact he's a heavy drinker... there's something unsettling about how he drinks that has starting to stress MJ out.

She can't put her finger on it, but it makes her stomach drop in dread every time she sees him. He drinks more than any patron they’ve seen before, but never gets unruly. He sits quietly, drinking beer after beer. His eyes following her, like a predator looking at their next meal. She hates interacting with him. It's his eyes, they're so... hollow.

The last time she handed him his tab he caressed her hand and she recoiled just as quickly. He gave her a slimy kind of smile that had her gritting her teeth. His eyes burning into her skin, making her itch and want to scream. She hasn’t served him tonight, but she feels him staring at her. She always feels his eyes following her, like a creepy portrait at night.

He genuinely scares her. Has her almost debating if she should just quite. She even tried to swap times with a coworker but he followed. He was there every time she was scheduled without fail. How he knew she was trying to change shifts made her even more unsettled. Making her skin prickle like she was being stabbed by tiny needles.

She mentioned it to her manager but he just dismissed how she felt. Saying she was over reacting; the guy isn’t disruptive and he hasn’t actually done anything to her. All she could think was, ‘yet, he hadn’t done anything yet’.

She didn't bother trying to change shifts after that. She was ready to just leave the pub all together, but the pay was good. Too good to try and job hunt because of one man that creeped her out.

She shakes herself out of her spiraling thoughts and tries to keep working. There was no use sitting there stewing on him, it would just terrify her. She wraps up her shift and goes in the back to clock out. Before she walks out though, she goes back to ask Andy a question about a show they were hosting the next night. She needed the contact information and Andy had taken the call.

When she walks back out, she sees the guy is gone. Her gut is telling her it's wrong, he usually stays all night. Her face pales at the idea of walking out.

“Where did he go?” MJ asks pointing to his empty chair, her tone clipped.

Andy shrugs nonchalantly, “He just closed out his tab. Why?”

MJ grows quiet and crosses her arms. “This is gonna sounds crazy, but something about him really freaks me out.”

Andy shakes her head. “No, not crazy. I don’t like how he looks at you. It’s fucking gross.” Andy frowns looking at her friend. It validates MJ's feelings and she sighs in mild relief. Someone else noticed.

MJ leans on the back counter thinking, “Can I stay until you get off? I- I just have a bad feeling.” She asks looking at Andy with pleading eyes.

Andy nods her head, “Absolutely!" She replies reassuringly. "My boyfriends picking me up tonight and we can walk ya home or you can tag along with us. I’d hate for that guy to try and follow ya home.” She mutters bitterly making a disgusted face.

MJ nods her head. “Thanks, I’m just gonna hang out in the office then. Maybe check the cameras.” She says pointing to the back.

MJ goes into the managers office, he wasn’t working tonight anyway, and she looks through his desktop to check the cameras. Her stomach was churning with uncertainty.

Sure enough, the guy is creeping around the corner. He’s watching the back door. Suddenly a cold chill runs up her back. She jolts up and makes sure the back doors are locked. She quietly goes back into the office and curls in the chair, her body shaking. She takes a deep, nervous breath and just tries to not think about it.

There is no denying it, he definitely was waiting for her.

She shoves her face into her hands and tries to take some calming deep breathes. Her fingers dig into her hair and she holds it tightly. It doesn’t stop the panic rising in her chest. It burns in the back of her throat like bile and she squeezes her eyes shut.

With unsteady hands she shoots Hobie a text, asking if he could come pick her up. She doesn’t know if she can wait until Andy gets off. She looks back over to the cameras and the man isn't there anymore.

It should calm her down, she should be relieved, but it doesn’t. It's the opposite of reassuring... in fact it puts her on edge and she's more nervous than before.

Suddenly the back door handle starts to jiggle, almost as if someone’s trying to open it. She stares at the handle frozen in fear for what feels like forever. Her heart feels like it’s in her throat.

Just as soon as the door handle shook, it ends. Leaving her alone in the silence.

She’s trembling and tries to calm herself down. He can’t get in.

He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. He can’t get in. She tells herself over and over again.

She locked it, it’s industrial, as long as she's in the back she's safe. She spends the next ten minutes trying to come down from her mini panic attack. Her body feels numb and she's never felt this frighten for her own life. Which feels trivial in the face of the strange super humans running around Old York.

Her phone buzzes, pulling her out. Hobie had texted her back, saying he was on his way. She was going to be fine.

She finally settles her breathing and feels calm enough to wait for Hobie. Her judgement was correct. She hears screaming and glasses shattering. The noise is so foreign she doesn't realize it's real until Andy comes plowing around the corner and barreling into the office. Andy slams the door shut, and turns off the lights. Her face is filled with fear as she turns around to grab MJ.

“That guy, MJ, he- he came back!" Andy starts to whisper shout. Her voice hitching in anxiety. "He's bonkers! Threw a fit and breaking shit!" she says rushing over her words. "He was screaming for you MJ, Lars is handling it but I bolted." She grabs her hand and tries to drag MJ with her, "We have to go!” She’s whispering at her aggressively.

MJ moves to hold Andy's arms, she looks past her down at the computer's camera and sees Lars handing the man. The two girls take the opportunity to go to the back door and try to escape. They are met with an unbudging door.

“No, no, no, no!” MJ hisses and tries to open the door again, throwing her body weight at the door. She's frantic to get out, just escape.

“What the fuck!” Andy almost shouts. They try again and are meet with nothing. They're trapped.

They hear glass breaking and it makes them freeze for only a moment before fear grips them. They run into the office, closing the door and locking it.

MJ makes her way over to the computer and sees the guy standing over Lars, holding a broken liquor bottle with a tight grip. She clutches at Andy and looks at her with wide eyes.

“I think he just killed Lars!” She hisses.

“What the fuck!” Andy replies and the two girls watch him through the camera. He’s blocking their only exit.

“We have to hide, that’s all we can do, or distract him…” MJ mutters.

“Where the hell are we gonna hide?!” Andy says in irritation.

MJ looks over to the closet in the office and shoves herself and Andy in it. The closet is filled with anything and everything, it’s honestly a mess. This could be to their advantage though. MJ finds an empty barrel, one used as decoration, and tells Andy to get in. Her friend looks at her like she’s mad.

“I’m not getting in that.” Andy hisses in a whisper.

“It’s the best spot you have and we don’t have a lot of time right now Andy!" MJ shots back quickly in irritation. "If he finds a locked door he’s breaking in. I’m gonna lock the closet but it can only give us so much time.” MJ whispers aggressively.

Andy sighs and gets in the barrel. “If he finds me first I’m killing you, not him.” She mutters.

MJ rolls her eyes but closes the barrel’s lid. She looks at the corner that’s filled with an abundance of random things. She moves some stuff around to hide behind. This is as good as it's going to get. The objects she's hiding behind are also hidden by a curtain. She hopes it'll be enough to save her. She’s shaking, clutching her phone to her chest. She turns it on silent, but texts Hobie quickly. She tells him in as little words as possible she’s hiding in the office and for him to call for help.

She knows the cops won’t come, even after their ‘reform’ they still don’t do much. Much less care about a local pub issue. That’s why they had Lars as their bouncer. Now Lars was maybe dead and it’s not like she could just call up the local vigilante.

She’s screwed unless she can somehow take this guy out herself with Andy. She’s trembling, clutching onto herself to not cry, this is not how she wants to go. Not from some creepy drunk patron.

She hears the office door get kicked in and she tries to not gasp. He’s more than likely going to find her and not Andy, which she knew that was the risk. She’s holding onto a crowbar with a death grip. She’s just waiting for him to get in the closet. If he finds her she'll swing, fight, scream and claw her way out.

She wants to shut her eyes like a little kid and pretend this isn’t happening, but she can’t. Her hearts pounding as she hears the loud bangs on the closet door. With every hit it makes her jump. Then she hears it crash to the floor followed by heavy footsteps.

She’s trying to keep it together but tears fall down her face. She’s only human and fear is gripping at her heart.

She hears a loud grunt and a collapsing. She doesn’t dare look, but she hears something dragging against the floor.

“I don’t think ladies like stalkers much.” She hears, a new voice says mockingly.

She sits up quickly as she hears the familiar voice. She moves to stand up and quietly goes to look. She sees a distinctly spider silhouette through the broken down doorway.

His figure disappears but she can still hear him. He’s talking to the drunkard so she uses this opportunity to grab Andy. She rushes over to the barrel that Andy’s in and slides the lid off. She whispers to her, “Spider-Man’s here!”

“What?! How?” Andy says in surprise, they can hear the guy getting slammed into something, making them both jump. The noises they hear consist of loud banging and something being broken.

“Hell, if I know!” MJ hisses and makes her way over to the fallen doorway.

She peers around the corner, still trying to hide herself, and sees that Spider-Man has the guy pinned down. Arms tied behind his back and his face had been slammed into the desk. Specifically, the keyboard. The pieces are scattered and broken on the floor, a small pool of blood is underneath the man's head.

She takes a shaky breath, one entirely too quiet, it’s enough to notify Spider-Man of her presence, his head shooting up to look at her. She sees his body relax, if just a fraction, upon seeing her.

“Mariana,” he whispers her name, so soft she almost misses it. “Always in trouble…” He says much louder, scoffing and shaking his head. She's frozen in place just watching him with large eyes.

He leans down next to the man's ear, “You’re lucky I got better things to do than rip you apart…” he hisses out.

He webs the guys arms together behind his back and throws him against the wall and webbing him there. He’s covered from the neck down to his feet, he is definitely not moving anytime soon.

Andy comes over next to her and grips MJ’s arm, letting out her own shuddering breath.

“Fuck, Lars!” Andy says in realization and bolts back to the front of the pub to assess their security guard.

MJ can’t move, her eyes are glued to Spider-Man, she feels like she’s going to pass out from the swell of relief. He turns back and silently comes over gently grabbing her shoulders to look at her.

“C’mon let’s get you outta here.” He says, voice a little gruff as he wraps an arm around her. She leans her weight into him as a support almost instinctively. She’s still trembling slightly from the fear that gripped her heart.

They walk through the front and MJ sees Andy helping Lars sit up. He was okay, just a little scratched up. MJ smiles, glad to know her bouncer was safe and not dead.

“We’re gonna call someone and I’m staying with Lars. MJ you should go.” Andy says looking over at the two.

Before she can open her mouth and protest staying with them the vigilante speaks up, “I’ll get her home.”

Before MJ can even find her voice to respond the two are outside and he’s pulled her against him like before and starts swinging them across the city.

She’s confused and nauseous her grip tight as he swings them.

“You okay?” He asks her.

“Is this really the best time to ask me?” She mutters, groaning at the quick movements and feeling the air hit her face. Instead of it being refreshing, it stings instead.

“You gotta talk to me, it doesn’t have to be about that.” He says, voice a little rough. His grip on her tightening a fraction.

“Why?” She asks. She leans back enough to try and look at his face. Even covered in a mask, she’s trying to find something to help her read his expression.

“I just need a distraction or I’m gonna go back and rip him in half like the scum he is.” He mutters bitterly.

She narrows her eyes and whatever jumbled thoughts were swimming in her brain have finally clicked together, like pieces of a puzzle.

“Fine…but I can’t talk about what just happened.” she replies.

He grunts in acknowledgement, “Anything, we can talk about anything.” He keeps swinging, he doesn’t even need directions to get to her flat. He’s taking the right turns, as if he's done it a million times before.

“When were you gonna tell me you’re Spider-Man?” she accuses without hesitation.

He misses his next web, causing them to fall a bit before he catches them again. His masks eyes widen as he looks at her.

Her brows are furrowed and she’s looking at him expectantly.

“What ya talkin’ about? Course I’m Spider-Man.” He tries to play off with a fake laugh.

Her face doesn’t change she raises a brow in irritation, “Hobie.” Her voice is shaking a bit, “When were you going to tell me?” She says again.

He groans and stops swinging them, he lands them on a random roof and he sets her down. His hands cover his masked face as he shakes his head. Pacing back and forth. He turns to look at her, pauses, and then rolls his head back again.

He pulls his mask off and gives her a look like he’s mildly impressed. “What gave it away?” He asks.

She takes a deep breath, “You, you were the only one I had texted…and well, you called me Mariana. Pretty sure I never told Spider-Man my name.” she whispers.

He nods and walks closer to her, he brushes his hand along her cheek, “You’re okay right? He didn’t find you?” he asks. His eyes looking over her, making his own assessment.

She nods, “No you got there just in time.” She whispers, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She presses the heels of her palms into her eyes trying to stop herself from crying.

She’s safe. She knows she’s safe. Hobie came like he said he would.

She runs her hands down her face and looks up at him, his body has relaxed and he pulls her to him. Tightly hugging her. She easily wraps her own arms around him, grounding herself.

“You’re too much trouble…” He murmurs into her hair.

She chuckles in response and presses her forehead to his shoulder, “Maybe it’s you who’s trouble.” She replies.

He gives a dry laugh, “Yeah, probably.”

The two hold onto each other tightly, breathing together, trying to match their hearts to the same gentle rhythm.

#hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown x oc #atsv hobie #across the spider verse fanart #spider man: across the spider verse #across the spiderverse #atsv #spiderman fanfiction #spiderpunk #spider punk #my art

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octoberobserver · 5 months

Text

The Comforting Detective - Sherlock & Co. Fic

(Read on ao3 here)

“No! No, plea—help! Please! Somebody hel—”

“...tson. Watson! JOHN!”

John shot up, his eyes bursting open, his whole world tilting on its axis.

A strong hand gripped his shoulder, stopping him from toppling off the…?

“Why’m’I on the couch?” he mumbled, his vision swimming as the chaotic sounds of gunfire and screaming still echoed in his ears.

“Because we fell asleep on it after getting back from the pub,” Sherlock replied, tone tired and still a little tipsy. “Your shoulder makes a surprisingly comfortable, sentient pillow, Watson.”

“Hm. Thanks,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair as he felt Sherlock shift against him. “You wanna sit up, mate? This couch can’t be good for your back. I know mine is bloody killing me.”

“Can’t. Trapped.”

John frowned, turning around to gape down at him.

“What do you mean you’re—o-oh my God.”

A snort of laughter escaped him as his bleary eyes fell on Archie, who was sprawled right across Sherlock’s midriff, fast asleep and snoring loudly.

“Looks like you make a pretty good sentient pillow yourself, Sherlock,” he teased, groggily digging around in his pocket for his phone.

“Don’t you dare.”

“What?”

“Don’t you dare take a picture, Watson. I can see, even in my post-inebriated state, those cogs turning in that little brain of yours.”

“My brain isn’t little.”

“No, it’s perfectly average-sized for an adult male,” Sherlock waved his free hand, the other holding Archie in place. “But I can still see you scheming. Stop it.”

John half-heartedly dropped his phone back into his pocket, grumbling, “Fine. Spoilsport,” but firmly snapping a mental image of his flatmate and dog cuddling for him to chuckle at later.

The soft ‘tick tock’ of the clock on the mantelpiece, with the accompaniment of Archie’s not-so-soft snores, was all that sounded throughout the room for several beats. Until…

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The tears currently drying on John’s cheeks were enough for both of them to know what Sherlock was referring to.

He cleared his throat, trying (and probably failing) to subtly wipe at the corner of his right eye.

“Not really.”

“Okay,” he felt Sherlock shift again, the back of his forearm resting against John’s knee. “The offer to hold my hand still stands, though.”

He looked down at the narrow palm and long, bony fingers pressing against his jeans, and a familiar (if a little confusing) ache rose within him.

“Thank you,” he replied, his breath a touch uneven as he let his hand fall down on top of his.

Slowly and slightly awkwardly, Sherlock’s fingers closed around his and squeezed gently.

“Hm,” he murmured. “One more thing, Watson. Your equipment was still recording when we got back to the flat. So you may want to go in and edit out all of our…drunken ramblings and…everything that followed. Not sure the listeners would find that very enthralling.”

John thought the listeners would find that a lot more than very enthralling if the constant tweets, posts and emails speculating about the progression of their relationship were anything to go by. But he smartly kept that to himself.

“You’re a good friend, Sherlock,” he smiled softly, squeezing his hand back and feeling his once hammering heart beginning to slow.

He had said the ‘F’ word again. The good one. It wasn’t the first time he had referred to him as more than just his flatmate, but he could tell the detective was still surprised nonetheless.

“You too…John.”

With their hands clasped together (something John couldn’t find in him to be self-conscious about), another quiet enveloped them, even more comfortable than the last, until Archie let out a particularly loud snore that had them both chuckling. Sherlock’s entire body shook with it, despite his efforts not to rouse the dog.

“I wonder what dogs dream about,” John managed to ponder through his laughs, a fond warmth flowing through him. “Chasing squirrels or pissing against lamposts, probably. Not warzones or other traumatic things, I hope.”

Sherlock made a humming noise, his thumb brushing John’s pinky finger.

“Experts wager that they do have their own version of nightmares,” he mumbled, his face angled towards Archie, no doubt analysing him. “Fear of abandonment, a time when they fought with another dog, being caught in a thunderstorm, those sorts of things.”

John let that sink in, his index finger resting on Sherlock’s knuckle.

“And what do these experts say help rid our dogs of bad dreams?”

“Comfort from their loved one,” Sherlock answered easily, his tone laced with something John couldn’t decipher as he watched him begin to pet Archie’s head. “A good cuddle should have them back to dreaming about squirrels and lamposts in no time. Apparently. If the studies hold any water.”

“Huh,” John said almost to himself, remembering with vivid clarity the hugging machine and was troubled not for the first time at the thought that that was all he had had for comfort until John and Mariana came along. “So they need comfort, then. Hugs and cuddles and holding hands. Like people.”

“Yeah, like some people. However, they do lack opposable thumbs, Watson. So, ‘holding hands’ is—”

“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants, you know what I mean,” he cut across him, grinning and rolling his eyes simultaneously, something which he did with startling frequency since meeting Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective.

His heart rate was finally back to normal.

“You know what else works wonders for comfort?” he asked, feeling much more himself again as his eyes landed on the clock.

7:04 am.

“What’s that, Doctor?”

“Good food,” he squeezed his hand one last time before gently extracting himself and standing up, calling over his shoulder, “Archie! Breakfast!”

Predictably, the dog shot awake, jumping down from Sherlock’s stomach with force.

“Oof! Ar…chie!” he scolded, winded from the blow. “B-Bloody dog!”

Another laugh escaped John as he made his way into the kitchen, untangling his recording equipment as he went, noticing the flashing low-battery light on his microphone and finally switching it off.

It was just a quiet, hungover breakfast with his friend and his dog. The listeners could wait.

Some things were just for them.

#sherlock & co #sherlock and co #johnlock #sherlock holmes #john watson #my fanfiction #is there a specific ship name for THIS john and sherlock???

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raina-at · 11 months

Text

Date

There’s a few things in life theoretical knowledge can’t prepare you for. On top of the list, or very near it, is the actual experience of raising a child. The daily, hourly experience of living with a child isn’t comparable to anything else, and it can’t be properly described in words.

Sherlock loves Rosie to distraction. But, it has to be said, if there was a world championship of accidental cockblocking, she would medal without breaking a sweat.

That adorable, wonderful, funny, smart little girl can ruin the mood so quickly Sherlock would honestly be impressed if he wasn’t simultaneously so frustrated he can barely see straight.

John lovingly calls her the world’s most effective chastity belt, and Sherlock agrees wholeheartedly.

Sherlock thinks this might be the reason most couples wait a few years before having children.

Unfortunately, he and John never did anything in the right order. They fell in love pretty much on sight, then spent ten years being stupid. In between Sherlock pretend died, then (almost) died for real, John got married, had a kid, the wife died, John moved back in, Sherlock became a second father, and then, finally, they started shagging.

Only they never had a sex holiday, because they have a Gremlin they can’t inflict on anyone for a week to just bugger off and shag each other’s brains out. Not yet, anyway. Molly’s offered, but their schedules have not aligned yet. Sherlock hopes it will happen soon.

The last few weeks were especially harrowing. Sherlock was in Cardiff for a week for a boring case, and when he came back, he was busily snogging John against the refrigerator when Rosie came down from her room and vomited all over the sitting room carpet.

If there’s anything that kills the mood faster than a vomiting four-year-old, Sherlock never wants to encounter it.

Of course they both got sick as well, and for the better part of a week, even the thought of anyone touching any part of Sherlock that wasn’t his forehead or his hand was frankly revolting.

Then Rosie dislocated her shoulder and had to stay home from daycare for a solid week. They were both so exhausted every evening that whoever had bedtime duty that night routinely fell asleep in Rosie’s bed before Rosie did.

But now.

Now Rosie’s at Molly’s. They had a lovely date night, with dinner at Angelo’s and a walk through Regent’s Park in the moonshine, and Sherlock is a tiny bit tipsy from the wine and from banked arousal. He’s got John backed against the sitting room door, and they’re snogging leisurely. John’s hands have found their way into his clothes, one hand is caressing his arse, the other trailing up his spine.

“The things I want to do to you,” John mutters, grinning at Sherlock, wicked and full of promise.

“Oh, I have a list as well,” Sherlock replies, biting at John’s throat.

John moans, letting his head fall back against the door, exposing more of his skin to Sherlock’s hungry mouth. “I hope getting me out of my clothes before I go completely crazy is on that list,” he breathes, the hand on Sherlock’s arse pulling their hips together. He’s got a leg slung around Sherlock’s and is dreamily rubbing his erection against Sherlock’s thigh.

“In a minute,” Sherlock mutters, going back to biting at John’s neck. John smells delicious there, like fresh air and a bit of sweat and his cologne.

The door to 221 opens, closes and someone ascends the stairs.

Sherlock sighs. “Fuck off, Lestrade,” he yells through the closed door.

John giggles a bit, hiding his face in Sherlock’s shirt. Sherlock smiles. That’s his favourite thing in the world, a happy, aroused, giggly John Watson, all his to do with as he pleases. He kisses the laugh from John’s lips.

There’s a knock at the door. Right behind John’s shoulder blades.

“He said fuck off, Lestrade,” John says, freeing his lips briefly from Sherlock’s before diving right back again for another deep, dirty, single-minded kiss.

“Listen, chaps, I get it, but the Lambeth strangler’s resurfaced. We need to move on this now.”

Sherlock draws back from the kiss. “How do you know it’s him?” he asks, holding John in place as he makes a move to withdraw his hands from their various places on Sherlock’s person.

“Red string, candles, the works. It’s the same man, Sherlock. It’s not a copycat, we’re sure.”

Sherlock sighs. They’ve been after the strangler for years. Sherlock has never had the opportunity to see a fresh crime scene.

“It’s okay,” John says, quietly, so Lestrade won’t hear through the door. “I understand. This is important.”

Sherlock meets John’s eyes. John looks disappointed, but he knows ending a date with chasing a serial killer is as traditional for them as sex is for other couples.

The case is alluring. Surely at least an eight. It’s important.

But so is John.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock says, leaning in and nosing along John’s neck while speaking, “walk away now, no questions asked, and give us one hour, no questions asked, and I’ll take the next five cases you’re offering, no questions asked.”

There’s a noticeable pause, then Lestrade says, quietly, “One hour.”

They hear him walk down the stairs and the door to 221 closes behind him.

“Delaying a serial killer crime scene for a whole hour, for me?” John mutters, grinning at Sherlock, bright and happy. “Now I know you love me.”

“Some people need a lot of convincing,” Sherlock mutters, sinking his teeth into John’s neck.

“Take me to bed,” John says, winding his hands into Sherlock’s hair. “And convince me some more.”

Here. Fluff and sexytimes like I promised!

Thank you so much @calaisreno for the tag and the prompt.

Tagging a few people: @jrow @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk @khorazir @discordantwords @thetimemoves @the-reading-lemon @7-percent and anyone else who wants to play.

Also, I'm collecting all my ficlets on AO3 here.

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #johnlock fic #my fic #may 2023 prompts #Date #parentlock #Established relationship #sexytimes

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suffersinfandom · 5 months

Text

A Summary of The OFMD Meta

Sooooo... this is part one of an incomplete summary of A Meta-Discussion Of The Subtext by meratrishoslee (Mera) on AO3 (linked to, as the author requests). I hope it’s helpful to the folks who’ve been curious about it -- heyooo @fahbee and @pushbuttonkitty -- but maybe not quite 90K-words curious! I’m not going to comment on anything; this is meant to be an impartial -as-possible summary.

It's massively long, so this is just the first eight chapters.

“There’s every possibility you are still in your feelings as you read this, even weeks after the finale. You are in your autonomous knee-jerk reaction, adrenaline-spike, slapped across the face, feeling-so-betrayed-right-now moment. You’re valid. That’s absolutely what’s happened… on the surface. But as you take a deep breath and begin to examine logically what’s in the show and engage with the material both in its text and subtext, you will see a new concept begin to take shape.” (Mera)

Chapter 1: Overview

Some background: Mera was involved with The Johnlock Conspiracy and believes that TJLCers weren’t wrong. (If you want a fun watch, I recommend Sarah Z’s YouTube video.) Essentially, TJLCers believe that Sherlock and Watson of BBC’s Sherlock were supposed to be endgame, and this can be proved with careful analysis. This is often paired with the idea that there is a missing fourth episode to the show’s fourth season that will eventually air and confirm all theories.

Mera defines ‘text’ and ‘subtext.’ Text is “dialogue lines / Shot choices and directions / Visible actions, describable as stage directions.” Subtext is “every single other thing, as well as what is suggested by or can be inferred from the text above.”

“Whenever something doesn’t make sense in the text, it is a BEACON (or maybe even a LIGHTHOUSE) to look at the subtext. Your subconscious mind recognizes subtext long before your conscious mind parses it -- assuming it ever does.”

The rest of the chapter is devoted to short descriptions of Mera’s key assertions with links to relevant chapters and their convention experiences. They cite talking to Con O’Neill at Florida Supercon 2023 as one of their reasons for believing so strongly that Izzy Hands is alive:

I asked him for advice in a specific time of trouble, and he gave me something real that had worked for him. I asked for a hug and he gave that also.

As I was pulling away I said "I’m glad that I gleaned one absolutely true thing from your portrayal of Izzy."

“What’s that?”

I said: "The character (in my original work) that Izzy inspired – when he’s out of pain at last, it’s impossible not to love him."

That seemed to hit him on an emotional level; he couldn’t hold my gaze after that. He said “That’s what I’ll be taking with me today.”

This was July 1st 2023, after completion of the filming of Season 2. I've thought about it often as the season went on, and how it must have affected him.

We have to love Izzy so that he'll live.

Mera spoke to Con again at NYCC:

The last thing I managed to get to say to him was: "They gave Izzy Hands a Passion Play."

"They did?" he asked.

"Yes, they did!" I replied.

And I watched that brilliantly swift mind again at work, because he considered it for the briefest beat -- and said in a tone of joy: "They did; yeah, you're right!"

I remember for the minutes and hours after I was amazed: did he not know, somehow? Did the writers not tell him (and he didn't realize at any time since) that in first quarter of the series they'd given him Gethsemane, a betrayal, a crucifixion (okay, getting shot in the leg and head, but don't get stuck on the details), a burial, and then a full on canonical resurrection?

Con then said another very important thing:

"But I got over it."

[...]

If Izzy's dead (for real and forever dead) and he knew it, then what he said to me was on a level of cruelty that I could never countenance from him. If Izzy lives, then those words are yet another piece of proof to me that Con was clever enough to be right both for someone who'd only seen five episodes, and someone who would eventually see all eight.

Chapter 2: The Cup and Ball Trick

The chapter is an extended “game” of cup and ball (where a ball is hidden under a cup and the guesser needs to determine which cup it’s under) interspersed with pictures from OFMD at various points in season two. It ends on a shot of Izzy’s grave where his body definitely isn’t.

The important takeaway: Izzy returns from the dead once to shoot Ed during Ed’s final suicide attempt. Ed returns from the dead after the near-fatal mutiny. Why would you think Izzy’s actually dead and in his grave at the end of the show?

“I didn't cry at the finale -- I was too filled with joy and excitement. I was Mary Magdalene at the grave; I was one of the first to know the truth of the resurrection, whether or not anyone believed me!”

Chapter 3: OUR LOVE MEANT DEATH

"..because if [Izzy] doesn't [live], with what I know now, his death is a cruelty struck at every queer individual alive or dead since 1981.”

Mera observes that almost no one touches Izzy’s bare skin and Izzy bleeds more than any other recurring character.

There are two times someone touches Izzy’s bare skin: first when his screams are being muffled when he yells at Jim and Archie to kill him, second when Ed puts the gun in Izzy’s ungloved hand during his first go at suicide.

Conclusion: "Izzy is coded with AIDS.”

Ed holding his bloody hand up to the rest of the crew away when Izzy is dying is a “warding-off gesture.”

Izzy is pale and sickly-looking as he’s dying. “My gorge rises. In the year of our Lord Shiva 2023 -- THEY GAVE THE MOST QUEER CODED CHARACTER ON THE SHOW A FUCKING AIDS DEATH.”

Izzy touches someone else’s bare skin twice in the show, and both instances are Ed. The first is in S1E10 “where he puts his left Death-marked hand on Edward's wrist as he's choking him.” The second is in S2E8 as he’s dying “in his ex-lover’s arms” (notably, this is the same hand with the spade tattoo).

“If Izzy's well and truly dead, for real and stays dead... He is in media both the first historically and the most recent chronologically to receive a full on AIDS death.”

“Until they prove to me and all of us that only Izzy's grief and the specter of AIDS remains in the grave -- and the rest of our beloved boy, our new unicorn (oh hey do you know what Problematic Modern Culture says about unicorn blood?), our pure-hearted risen being, our self-sacrificing queer man, will get his chance to be touched, held, kissed, and LOVED in Season 3.”

Chapter 4: “The Third Was For Death”

“Season 1 was Pinocchio: a wooden puppet wants to become a real boy -- and does! Hip hip hooray; that was pretty easy. Wow, the cute tall young guy of the crew lost a finger and the mean nasty short grouch that some people hate and some people like (because they understand him on a visceral, subconscious, subtextual level) lost a toe -- but if that's the worst that happens, we came out okay!”

Season two is “The Monkey’s Paw.” Mera tells the story with pictures from OFMD to emphasize the connections. Importantly, there’s an instance of a couple’s son coming back wrong after a wish (Lucius). The final wish returns the son to his previously-dead state and Mera ends on a picture of Izzy’s grave.

The cast’s and crews’ interviews might not support the real narrative because they’re not allowed to say what they want to (“Ever had to develop code language to hide your queerness from your parents, your teachers, the state?”) They’re all “in distress” and trying to tell us without telling us.

“Why does the new (old broken down) house smell like death? Why does everything we wished for that we got feel bad? Why does everything we're supposed to be happy about feel sad? How long would it take YOU to spot someone blinking out the word T-O-R-T-U-R-E?”

Mera hopes that the next season won’t tell us certain a new story: George Orwell’s 1984.

Chapter 5: Where Were We? Oh Yes, In The Pit Of Despair

This chapter is about The Princess Bride as it relates to Izzy’s story in seasons two and three of OFMD. It’s a comparison based mostly on costumes and lines; there are no one-for-one character comparisons. Vitally, the plot of TPB is used to predict the next season of OFMD.

Season two of OFMD ends at the part of TPB when Westley is thought to be dead (Izzy in his grave). Westley is revived, soooo…

“At what point does a preponderance of evidence flip over into fact? At what point does a handful of chance coincidences become planning and architecture? At what point do you go beyond a reasonable doubt into conviction?”

Chapter 6: Birdman and Blackbeard: Or, How To Watch Media

This chapter is about analyzing media. Once you learn how, you stop being a passive watcher.

“Instead you read its rhymes and rhythms like a sonnet. You go to the media in return – you meet it halfway, like a lover. You engage with it. You find themes embedded in the subtext that, once unearthed and examined, continue to inform and expand your experience of the text.”

“The people that like things nice and easy are the ones that watched the finale of Season 2, got angry and upset and – instead of examining those feelings and sitting with them and figuring out why everything felt weird and fucky – wrote it off as bad writing and cruel showrunners, and are already onto the next piece of media to pour into their open eyes and ears.”

And that’s fine! But if you like to think, you interrogate the media and see what else it’s saying.

Mera summarizes The Hero’s Journey through the lens of Orpheus’ story.

Season two mirrors season one almost too well. “...Why are they recreating their first season almost beat by beat? Why is this “second verse, same as the first – only a little bit louder and (in many cases) worse? Then Episode 8 hit… and I realized. They wanted to make sure that, in every conceivable way, the fans had a subtextual map of the meaning of Episode 8. So the mirrors between seasons had to line up almost exactly.”

Now we go into the three-act structure and how the hero’s journey maps onto it. Mera then uses Birdman or (The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance) and to show how they personally analyze meta, but I don’t care nearly enough about what they’ve gleaned from Birdman to go into it here. You’ll have to go read it yourself if you want their methods.

“Remember: Everything on screen in the finished and published movie is a choice. If something doesn’t make sense on a textual level, it is often a signpost (or LIGHTHOUSE) to look at it on a subtextual level.”

Mera points to an article about three-act structure and notes that “fun and games” is both part of that author’s second act and the title of an OFMD episode.

“Are we being fucked with? Or are we being instructed?”

Chapter 7: If You Strip Away The Myth From The Man

It’s the Jesus Christ Superstar chapter and it’s massive. I’m only including the most substantial comparisons and points.

Mera starts by linking to a gifset of Con talking about Taika saying that Izzy and Blackbeard are comparable to Judas and Jesus (and then Taika and Con sang songs from JCS while getting their makeup done). Notably, Con didn’t specify which character was which.

Blackbeard is a myth created by (of) two men, Ed and Izzy. “there's always two male bodies involved: Jesus and Judas, and both sacrifice themselves to the cause.”

It’s easy to say that Izzy is Judas, but wait -- there’s a better and deeper interpretation! Look at this picture from S1 that resembles the Last Supper and frames Izzy as Jesus! “Now I finally understood. Sure: Izzy is Judas-coded. That's plain for anyone to see. But Izzy is also Jesus-coded… from the under/reverse side.”

Izzy is Jesus-coded for all of season one (even more than Ed), and the comparison is solidified by the end of S2E3: “Izzy Hands is almost fully and directly Jesus-coded, and after Ed's own resurrection (not as an agape-love self-sacrifice for the saving of others, but through selfish personal/eros love alone) Edward is now obviously the betrayer of the whole crew who is permitted to stay aboard only on terms of sackcloth clothing and uneasy tolerance.”

Judas died by hanging himself according to the Gospel of Matthew. The only characters we see hanging are Ed and Stede, which clearly aligns them with Judas.

Izzy is a good person. He cares about the crew; Ed never does. When Izzy’s wrong, he fesses up to it and apologies; Ed does not (or when he does, the apologies are bad). “Does he lie? Yes, ostensibly to protect his captain and crew. Is he fairly mean to the Revenge crew until they [...] become his crew? Pretty much, although I could argue otherwise in places -- especially the fact that while Ed throws Lucius violently and bodily off the ship without any warning, Izzy carefully puts the crew on a safe island with a minor fuckery of his own to keep them calm and happy until he leaves. (It's obviously not Edward's idea, although he does permit Izzy to put himself between the deadly Kraken and the Revenge's crew in order to accomplish it.) Is he selfish? Yes, and who of us aren’t sometimes selfish about the people we love?”

Jesus and Judas have massive amounts of sexual tension (yeah, can confirm). Izzy is Jesus-coded because, while he doesn’t initiate contact like Jesus does in JCS, he’s always looking directly at Ed. Ed is Judas-coded because he has a hard time looking at Izzy and finds it difficult to touch him.

“...If Izzy Hands is a queer man who is Jesus-coded, who we see go through not one but TWO passion plays during Season 2... [near-death after having his leg removed, end-of-season death] he is conquering the death of HIV/AIDS and queer grief. He has to die so that he can vanquish that very real death, and arise again triumphant over it.”

“One direct correspondence with Jesus is that Izzy is convinced of one right way to be (whether or not it actually is), and everything outside of that offends him viscerally at this point in the series.” Izzy is convinced that there’s one right way to be a pirate, and Stede’s fucking that up.

And back to AIDS/reverse-Jesus Izzy: “Now among the lepers we're back to the reversal: no one touches Izzy. He’s desperate for it yet can never allow it. Jesus’s touch, kiss, love cures – and everyone seeks it and craves it. They demand it, they swamp and overwhelm him. Jesus's naked touch/kiss/love cures disease -- Izzy's carries and spreads it.”

“Judas/Edward makes his deal with the priesthood/King George to betray Jesus/Izzy – his price is 30 pieces of silver/Stede’s life.” That is, Ed is the one doing the betraying in season one.

But the real betrayal happens when he cuts off Izzy’s toe and feeds it to him while he’s vulnerable. Important note for the AIDS stuff: “...Edward puts on leather gauntlets immediately prior to this assault -- he ‘gloves up.’ He doesn't have direct naked contact with Izzy's blood or flesh during this scene.” The toe-feeding scene is absolutely framed as sexual assault.

And the toe thing continues into season two. “Sit with that also for a moment: the faux consent of making Izzy remove his own clothing to bare his body parts for this violation. Is it too far a stretch to think that Ed also made him eat each one, in their own private, gristly sacrament? He did threaten to ‘feed him the rest’ after all.”

Here is the outline of Izzy’s first “passion play”:

Izzy's Last Supper: all the toes eaten before as well as the one threatened now.

Izzy's Gethsemane, wherein he begs his God for the cup to be removed: he tries to bargain his and the crew's way out with his conversation with Blackbeard, to find an alternative to the self-destructive violence.

Izzy is betrayed by his Judas (again): shot in the leg for the 'crime' of mentioning Stede Bonnet's name, or Blackbeard's affection toward him.

Izzy descends into the grave: lays in a secret tunnel in what we can believe is the lowest part of the ship, while rotting enough to be smelled throughout.

Izzy dies: he shoots himself in the head and both we and Blackbeard believe him to be dead.

Izzy is risen: he hauls himself up out of his own grave without assistance from anyone else, crawls to the main deck, reloads his pistol somewhere along the way -- and shows himself to his followers crew at last, in order to bring about their salvation.

Con himself said that this is a passion play, and it takes up a massive chunk of the first part of the season. You don’t throw something massive like that into a show unless you’ve got something bigger coming.

But Judas dies before OFMD ends (mapping OFMD onto JCS), so now who is Ed? He’s Pontius Pilate. There’s the whipping of Jesus (Izzy’s back scars), then Pilate kneels down to hold the bleeding Jesus in his arms. It’s this specific Pieta statue.

“Izzy has to die to conquer his own living death, to end the curse that has kept him untouchable and unable to be loved as he so desperately desires.” There’s the crucifixion for you. Izzy dies and is buried, and we’re still waiting on the resurrection.

The last shot in JCS is of the empty cross; the last shot of OFMD S2 is Izzy’s grave. “If the cross in the last and arguably the most significant shot of JCS symbolizes the triumph of resurrection and rebirth... the one in OFMD S2 must also.”

Alex Sherman liked one of Mera’s Izzy Lives tweets that he was tagged in.

Chapter 8: The Dual Substance Of Christ

Now we’re looking at The Last Temptation of Christ. This is another long and involved one, so I’m cutting a lot of minor things that don’t serve the overall meta. (I also know fuck-all about this movie, oops.)

“An argument can be made (and I will attempt it) that Judas in this instance is not only the show creators/writers room of OFMD who had to put their much beloved boy Izzy Hands through all this agony... but also we the Unseen Crew who adore him, who have suffered alongside him through all he's endured, and who want nothing more than to have him back and whole in resurrected triumph.”

TLTC presents another reason to identify Lucius with Mary Magdalene (and notably, Jesus can’t touch Mary -- because Izzy is AIDS-coded). Once again, there’s an immense amount of sexual tension between Jesus and Judas.

This Jesus is angry and this God is fearsome. Judas does a lot of slamming-Jesus-into-walls, much like Ed and Izzy in S1E10.

Jesus confirms that he is a heart and he loves, which solidifies Izzy’s position as the heart of Blackbeard.

In his final trial in the desert, Jesus’ final tempter appears as flames. Izzy and Ed both play with flames when they lie.

“Izzy is pretty much Jesus-coded as I explained in the JCS meta… but here also due to the timing and content of this scene, Izzy’s also Lazarus-coded.He dies, he goes into the pit of the grave, he smells of rot, then he is raised from the dead.” Lazarus and Izzy both have a rough time of being alive again and drink about it.

Jesus says “I have to die on the cross, and I have to die willingly.” This parallels Izzy saying that he wants to go when he’s dying. Judas doesn’t want Jesus to die, which puts him more in line with Jenkins and company than any characters.

“But Izzy has to die, in order to conquer death. He’s lived with the specter of HIV/AIDS that has separated him from loving touch and the sharing of physical intimacy. He has to go into the grave to leave his disease and his queer grief behind, and to be reborn to love.”

On the cross, Jesus says, “Father, stay with me. Don’t leave me.” As he’s dying, Izzy tells Ed, “Sit with me, Eddie.”

“I feel sick, and I think I’m supposed to. It’s supposed to hurt. Both Izzy's death and Jesus's crucifixion are supposed to be two of the realest and most awful and most beautiful things I’ve ever seen on television.”

In TLTJ, there’s an extended part of the movie where Jesus is in a kind of gravy basket. The events are all kind of odd. They involve Jesus sleeping with Mary (the reborn unicorn, free of AIDS and safe to touch). Jesus returns to his body, suffers, and dies.

TLTJ doesn’t cover Jesus’ resurrection. “We have to trust what we know of the story: that Jesus is risen, and only death itself remains in his grave.”

On to the next!

#ofmd #ofmd meta #but like ofmd meta summary #which is wild #izzy critical #i mean not really #it's a summary #no commentary from me #continuing the trend of spending hours on something for like three people to read #hey tumblr why is my spacing wonky when i post

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 months

Text

Five Fics Friday: March 1/24

Happy Friday everyone!! Check out these fics for y'all to get into the weekend! Enjoy!

RECENT MFLs

Through a Glass, Darkly by Calais_Reno (T, 5,959+ w., 2/11 Ch. || WiP || Mirror Universe / ACD Meets BBC Sherlock AU || Serious Injuries, Case Fic, Questionable Science, Spatiotemporal Anomalies, Protective Sherlock, Doctor John, Developing Relationships, Danger, Angst with Happy Ending) – It begins in an alley. Two alleys, to be accurate. John and Sherlock, chasing a suspect. Holmes and Watson running for their lives. While John and Sherlock try to clear their names in ACD universe, Holmes and Watson are solving a missing persons case.

The Detective I Can't Forget by amalnahurriyeh (M, 8,761 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Online Dating, Gay Culture, Grindr, Sympathetic Sally) – John Watson knows whoever he met last night was amazing. He just can't remember a bloody thing. He never should have joined Grindr.

Invalid Home by Tindomerelhloni (NR, 10,853 w., 7 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Strangers to Lovers) – Captain John H Watson has only been home from the war for two weeks. He is not home out of his own free will but due to an injury that has put an end to his ability to serve. On one fateful day, he decides that he will seek out three strangers and do something kind for them before he ends his life. On his third encounter, he meets a strange man who sees right through him and helps pull him from the brink of self-destruction.

The Curious Case of the Casablanca Killer by meet_me_in_samarra (G, 15,066+ w., 4/15 Ch. || WiP || Post THoB, Case Fic, Bromance / Friendship, Clever John, John is a Conductor of Light, BAMF John / Sherlock, Sassy John, Cheeky Sherlock) – Deemed a three at best, the case of an invisible burglar in a historic cinema who stole nothing only caught Sherlock’s attention because he was bored. Also, he wanted to do John a favour. In the end, this proved to be a real stroke of luck. Otherwise, Sherlock would have missed an intriguing mystery that quickly ramped up in complexity.

Happily Ever Jeremy Bearimy by standbygo (M, 16,922+ w., 8/9 Ch. || The Good Place Crossover || Afterlife, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Implied / Referenced Drug Us, Soulmates, Angst with Happy Ending) – So. Sherlock Holmes is dead. He's in The Good Place. And he has a soulmate that makes him actually believe in the soul. Too bad that John Watson doesn't think he belongs here.

#johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #five fics friday

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raffe156 · 1 year

Note

ahh the headcanon of Tank cutting Prices Hair!! I can see it she’s threatening to give him a skin head if he looks up again 🤣🤣

A Kyle stops talking to Price because him a soap are next to get their hair trimmed a they don’t want skin heads!!

I imagine she cuts Ghosts hair in another room so no one’s but her sees his face - it’s his little time with her an no one else especially Price! he gets so many domestic feelings even thinks about her having his babies an how life would be with her as his 😩 loves how gentle she is with him…Can you tell I’m a Ghost and Tank supporter? 🤣💀

-💛

Ohhh Yeh 100%!!

I liked this one as well and decided to give it a quickie!

Bit sad 🥲💀

—————

“Kyle stop talking to him he keeps looking up!”

“He doesn’t have to look up he can just answer me yes or no?”

“Price just answer yes or no please…”

Price turned his head to glare at Kyle, but before their eyes connected you pushed his head down.

“If you look up one more time I’m going to shave the whole thing off…including the beard…”

“You wouldn’t dare kid….”

You buzzed the clipper right next to his cheek, making him jump.

“Wanna fuck around and find out?”

He didn’t, he remained facing forward for the duration Kyle and Soap both sat in silence they were next Kyle didn’t want his fade messing up and Soap didn’t want a skinhead.

Kyle was done and as you finished trimming Soaps Mohawk, you caught Ghost lingering in the door way.

‘Want me to trim your hair big guy? Im done with Johnny now…ill kick em all out, just me and you” You gave him your best smile, it caused his heart to double in size. ‘Just you and him’ He nodded for soap to piss off, he didn’t need telling twice. Ghost closed the door behind Soap and Kyle warning them it wouldn’t be worth their lives if they came in. They believed him. Ghost sat in the chair, his thumbs hooked under his mask, why did he always get nervous taking it off…it was you, and this wasnt the first time you had seen his face and it was the second time you had cut his hair…but he was still hesitant…

“It’s ok…i can cut it another time don’t worry” You started to pack the clippers away. No he wanted you to do it, he whipped it off his head, causing his hair to all stand up on end. You let out a little laugh as you smoothed it down, it gave him goosebumps.

“It just needs a tidy up, ill use the scissors ok?”

“Ok..thank you” he turned his face slightly. You caught the glint of a little smile in his eyes.

Ghost loved the feeling of your hands on his head and how gentle you could be, he had once watched you choke a man half to death with the very same hands. You were now stood between his thighs trimming the front. Even sat down he was eye level with you. He watch you as you focused on every snip, you looked at him a little smile on your lips. Ghost couldn’t help thinking about how life would be with you as his girl…he closed his eyes his mind flashing images of you cutting his hair but you were both back in Manchester in a big apartment in the centre you heavily pregnant with your second baby boy, your other son clung to his leg he had your eyes and his hair but curly. Ghost picked him up sitting him on his lap he was a needy little thing, but he loved it loved the fact someone needed an wanted him, he loved the little unit he had built with you…but it all came crashing down as back in reality the door flung open…it was the last person Ghost wanted to see…the one person who stood in the way of his happy ever after with you…the one person who was the reason it could only ever be a fantasy….Price. “John!” You shouted standing in-front of Ghost shielding his face. “Sorry love…I thought you were done…forgot my hat…sorry Si ” You threw his hat at him and gave him the ‘I’ll deal with you later look’ he glanced quickly at Ghost, said his sorries and walked out. You sighed returning to stand back in between Ghost’s thighs. “Sorry about that…good news is im done, your free to go haha” But Ghost didnt want to be free he want to be trapped in his fantasy with you….

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cowgurrrl · 11 months

Text

Don't Blame Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (except this is all backstory)

Author’s note: we interrupt your regularly scheduled rockstar!joel content for the LFTL prequel

Summary: September 26, 2003 [5.0k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, talks of food insecurity, outbreak day, canonical type violence, brief brief vague mention of threat from baby daddy, reader being a badass because I said so

“Jane Eloise, let’s go!” You yell through the apartment, struggling to hold your purse, coffee, Jane's backpack and lunchbox, and a file full of paperwork that came home with you last night. You can hear her shuffling things around in her room from where you're standing in the kitchen, already ten minutes late.

"I can't find my backpack!" She shouts.

"I have it! I just need you to get in the car!"

"Oh!" She chirps as she bounds into the kitchen, her light-up shoes sparkling with each step. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail adorned with bows to keep her hair out of her face throughout the school day, and she's wearing her favorite Fleetwood Mac shirt. You don't even want to know what you look like after rushing around, trying to get both of you ready for the day, but you feel less stressed knowing she doesn't look like she has a mom that doesn't brush her hair. You hand her the backpack and lunch box, fastening the straps over her little shoulders, and make a beeline for the door.

You wave to your neighbor, Ms. Watson, who barely spares you a glance which is strange considering how she almost always says good morning to you and Jane. Maybe she's just having a bad day. Jane buckles herself into her booster seat as you try to balance your coffee on top of your car but end up spilling it all down your arm and the side of your car. You curse under your breath as you shake coffee out of the papers you were holding and search your messy car for napkins or something to clean yourself.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Jane asks from the backseat, and you do your best to swallow down your stress and frustration to smile at her.

"Yeah, baby, I'm okay. I just spilled my coffee, but it's okay," you say as you give up and climb into the driver's seat. You put the key in the ignition and say a silent prayer for the engine to turn over and actually start. It only takes three tries, but it works. "Ready for school?"

Through the power of speeding and pure spite, Jane gets to school perfectly on time. She kisses you on the cheek as she rushes out of the car, her oversized backpack bouncing as she runs through the door where her teacher awaits her. You wave at Mr. Lowery, who shoots you a thumbs-up and a mouthed "Nice" for getting her to class on time. You laugh and flip him off before driving away. He's a good teacher and always nice to the parents if not a little bit of a flirt to you. You went on one date with him before the school year started and discovered he was Jane's teacher. Since then, neither of you have made any moves which is fine. You can barely explain to Jane why her dad isn't around. There’s no way you could explain why you're dating the first teacher she's ever had. It wouldn't be the best look.

You get to work fifteen minutes late. Again. Your boss shoots you a look you pointedly ignore as you drop the coffee-stained file in his hands and rush over to answer the phone on your desk. Thrillingly, you spend the day digitizing files, scheduling appointments for people who get paid way more than you do, and fielding requests. Something you learned very quickly when you got this job is that everyone who walks through the door wants to flirt with the young secretary to get what they want, but once you deny them and they see the pictures of Jane on your desk, they decide you're a bitch and give up.

However, people seem to be especially reactive today. They're jumpy as they wait by your desk and get pissed when you tell them no or that they have to wait. One guy even got in your face and had to be escorted out by security. You have to stay a whole hour after your shift ends to fill out an incident report and explain your side of the story to your boss, making you late to pick up Jane from her after-school program. The standstill traffic on the highway didn't help your case either. When you pull up to the school, Jane and her after school teacher are sitting on the curb, looking up at the orange sunset.

"Mommy!" Jane screeches as you park and get out of the car. You smile as you crouch down and open your arms to hug her.

"Hi, baby! How was your day?" You ask as you reach out to smooth her hair down. Her ponytail and bows did not last the whole day, and her hair is now frizzy and tangled. She must've had a fun day.

"Good! I got to play checkers with Mr. Lowery at lunch, and guess what?"

"What?"

"I beat him! Twice!" She exclaims, holding up two fingers, and you raise your eyebrows.

"No way! You must be a genius or something!"

"I know!" She says, making you laugh. The after-school teacher clears her throat from behind Jane, and you sigh as you glance between her and Jane.

"Why don't you get buckled in while I talk to Ms. Taylor, okay? Start thinking about what you want for dinner." You say. Jane is already halfway in the car before you can even finish your sentence, and you stand to your full height. Taylor has her arms crossed over her chest, and she looks pissed.

"You're late." She says like you're unaware or making her stay late on purpose.

"I know. I'm sorry. Something happened at work, and I had to stay late to get it sorted out, and traffic was horrible. I think there was an accident or something. The whole freeway was shut down." You say, but Taylor just stares at you.

"You can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?"

"Keeping the after-school teachers late. If it keeps happening, we're gonna have to fine you." She says, and you feel yourself deflate. You look back to make sure Jane's car door is shut, and she can't hear you.

"You know I can't afford to pay a fine. Please, I'm…" you take a deep breath. "I'm doing my best."

"I know you are, but the message isn't coming from me. It's coming from my boss. I'm just letting you know so you can arrange for someone to pick her up on time if you can't."

"I don't have anyone else."

"What about your mom?"

"C'mon, man," you shake your head. "She's not speaking to me, and even if she were, I'm not letting her see Jane."

"There's nobody that can pick her up? What about a neighbor or a coworker or something?" She asks.

"Nobody that I trust enough."

"Look, I'm trying to help you, but you need to be able to help yourself too. I'll cover for you this time but don't let it happen again, okay?" She says, and you nod. You're annoyed that someone you went to high school with, who knew you when you were pregnant, is acting high and mighty because she doesn't have kids. You don't need someone to tell you to trust others. You need her to watch your fucking kid.

"Thanks. It won't happen again." You say as you turn on your heels and walk back to the driver's side door. You both know it absolutely will happen again, but it doesn't matter right now. Right now, you need to get Jane home, feed her dinner, and study after she goes to sleep. The MCATs are coming up, and you can't afford to take it more than once.

There are a lot of things you can't afford even though you work two jobs. You can't afford to get new work shoes even though your old ones are falling apart. You can't afford a new car, even if it's used. Hell, you can barely afford to pay rent these days, but you'll never let Jane know. Every day, she has food in her belly, clothes on her back, and a safe, warm bed to sleep in. It doesn't matter if you go hungry or have to secretly sew up the holes in your clothes. She's the only thing that matters.

Traffic is miserable trying to get back to the apartment, even on the back roads, but you finally manage to get home right as the sun is setting. Jane gets down and immediately looks up, searching for the moon like she does every night. You're pulling your bag over your shoulder when she gasps.

"Mommy, look!" Jane says as she points at the fighter jets soaring through the air with a loud boom. You look up just in time to watch them fly over your head, going somewhere quickly, and you get a sinking feeling in your stomach. You can't place it or understand exactly what you're feeling, but you still usher Jane inside and lock the door behind you.

You make her mac and cheese and hot dogs for dinner. It's easy, cheap, and she loves it, so it's a win for everyone. She tells you about her day as she eats, excitedly telling you playground tales and what sound an F makes. You smile as you listen and ask her questions, clinging to her every word. She's getting so big and smart that sometimes you just want to sit and listen to her talk for hours. After dinner, you run her a bath and read her two bedtime stories before kissing her forehead and tiptoeing to the living room.

You sit on the couch with some mind-numbing reality show playing in the background as you try to study. After the day you've had, the words blur together, and focusing takes more brain power than usual. You make coffee and eat whatever's left of Jane's mac and cheese as it brews. You're able to take notes on pharmacology and start on endocrinology when your TV show suddenly cuts out. On your screen, an emergency screen blares at you, urging you to seek shelter. Your heart jumps to your throat as you hear more jets flying over your apartment building.

You don't know why, but you rush to your closet and take the locked box from your top shelf down. You find the key and unlock it to find the small handgun, ammunition at the bottom, and a hunting knife your ex left in your car years ago. He probably meant it as a threat, but you kept it in case he ever tried to go through with anything. You load the gun and tuck the extra ammo and knife in your pocket before standing and walking to Jane's room. You hide the gun in your waistband as you enter her room and gently but firmly shake her awake.

"Mommy?" She asks as she blinks in the darkness of her room.

"It's okay. Everything's okay. I just need you to wake up and come into the living room with me." You tell her, already searching for a pair of shoes and socks for her.

"Why?"

"Something's going on. I don't know what yet, but it's safer for you to be with me than asleep, okay?" You say. She yawns but complies, letting you slip socks and shoes onto her feet before doing the same. As you walk to the living room, your gun heavy in your jacket, the floor shakes under your feet. More planes fly overhead, and now you can hear sirens and people yelling in the street. You keep Jane close to your body as you try to come up with a plan when someone furiously knocks on your door.

"Help! Please, open the door!" A voice begs from the other side. You push Jane behind you as you pull your gun and keep it low, the way you were taught. The person in the hallway is still banging on your door and screaming for help, but you don't move to open it. Suddenly, there's an inhuman screeching and cries. The knocking stops. The world goes silent. Jane whimpers behind you, and you quickly shush her.

"It's okay, baby. It's okay," you say quietly. You can see the shadow of feet under your door as the knob jiggles. Jiggling turns to fully throwing their body against the wood, desperately attempting to get in, and Jane screams. Your heart pounds as her fear rattles in your ears, and you raise your gun at the door. "Cover your ears!" You order as the door breaks down, and you fire one shot at the mutilated body, trying to hurt you. Through the low light of your apartment, you can see the blood covering his face and the crazed look in his eyes as he goes down, twitching as he bleeds out on your living room floor.

Your ears ring, and you think you hear Jane say something about you killing him, but you can't focus. The only thing you know to do is pick her up and run. It's not safe to stay here. Your best bet would be to get to the back roads and drive until sunrise. Scarily, you hold Jane with one hand and your gun in the other, the juxtaposition enough to make your head spin. She tucks her head into your neck and cries as you leave your apartment to see the carnage left in the hallway. The guy begging for mercy is dead, his blood splattered across the beige walls of your building, and he's not the only one. There's blood and bodies everywhere. You put a hand on the back of Jane's head and push her face closer to you.

"Don't look at anything except Mommy, okay? You stay right there and close your eyes." You say, and she nods into your neck. Another rumbling shakes the building, and you run down the stairs, checking each floor for bodies or whatever the fuck tried to get into your apartment. Distantly, you can hear the same screeching but don't stop long enough to figure out where it's coming from.

When you get outside, there’s smoke and fire everywhere. People are screaming as jets fly overhead. That's the first time you see a bomb being dropped from a military plane on U.S. soil. You freeze as you watch the explosive fall, fall, fall until it hits the ground in a cloud of fire, ash, and blood. They're going to kill you all, and the only thing you have to protect yourself is a handgun and hunting knife. Fear seizes you, and you feel like you could be sick. You think you would've if Jane didn't scream at something behind you.

You're tackled to the ground before you can turn and shoot, and Jane falls out of your arms. Your skin scrapes against the pavement as you fight under the screaming person with no life behind their eyes. They're covered in blood and brain matter, a sight that churns your stomach, and they are clawing at you for leverage. You kick at them as you struggle to reach for your hunting knife, the skin of your palm cutting open on the glass under your body. Jane is crying and calling for you, but her voice gets louder and scarier as she sees something you don't. Something takes over. You've heard stories of people being able to lift cars or rubble when their loved ones are trapped underneath, their air supply rapidly dwindling as they beg for help. They said it was adrenaline. You never believed them until this moment.

The second your fingers graze the hunting knife, you're plunging the blade into the person's skull. A bubbling sound takes over the screaming, and you push the knife further until their body goes limp, and you push them off you, taking your knife with you. You crawl on your stomach to reach for your gun and shoot the person on the other side of the car, the one Jane saw. You don't see where the bullet lands, but you hear the body hit the ground as you take Jane in your arms again. She whines and tries to kick away from you as you open your car door, and you stop to look at her.

"It's me, baby. It's Mommy." You say, but the hot tears are still streaming down her face.

"B… blood! Blood!" She shrieks. You look down and find your shirt, hands, and arms slick with blood. You try to wipe your hands on your pants, but your bloody handprints cling to her clothes and skin. All your breath leaves you in one huff as the past twenty minutes catch up with you. Three people. You killed three people. Jane was in trouble. You're her mother. You did what you had to.

The sound of jets snaps you out of it. You put Jane in the backseat and get in the driver's seat, ignoring the way your hands shake as you try to put the key in the ignition. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you beg as the engine sputters. You turn the key again and again and again, but nothing happens. The plane is getting closer, and you can see people running toward you at the sound of the engine clicking. "Please! Fuck!" You yell, your voice cracking as you press the key harder. A guy jumps on the hood of your car and pounds on the glass, making Jane scream in terror. You see the plane pass over you and yell at Jane to buckle in and cover her head. Finally, the engine turns over right as the bomb explodes, not even a mile away.

Your car shakes as debris flies in all different directions. Blindly, you throw the car in reverse and ignore the crunch of bodies under your wheels. The momentum throws the guy from the hood of your car, and you don't look back as you race in the opposite direction. Your heart pounds as you reach for the radio but hear nothing but static. No radio. No information. No help. Whatever help the military could've been sending is shot to shit. They're more interested in dropping bombs on civilians.

"What's going on? What's wrong with those people?" Jane asks from the backseat, and you look at her in the rearview mirror. She's too small to look this scared. Your fingers twitch to reach for her before remembering you're covered in blood.

"I don't know, but it's gonna be okay. I'm gonna get us somewhere safe."

"Where?" She asks, and you hesitate. There are bombs and those… things all over the city. What if it's like that everywhere? What if nowhere is safe anymore? No, there has to be somewhere. If there's not, you'll make it safe for her. There's no other option.

"I don't know yet," you say as you turn to get to the highway. It's packed, and no one is moving. It's standstill traffic for at least the next ten miles. You take a different way and try to get to the back roads, but those are packed too. There's no way out. Your stomach lurches at the idea of being trapped as bombs fall from the sky with your five-year-old in the backseat and no way to protect her. You look around and see fields to your right. You don't know where they lead or if they'll even take you out of the city, but it's enough to get you away from the death trap of a highway. You cut the wheel and pray your car doesn't fall apart as you drive over the curb and into the field. "What are you doing?" Jane asks frantically.

"Are you buckled?" You ask, glancing back to make sure the seatbelt is pulled across her chest. The car rocks with the uneven terrain of the field, but you're moving. You make it ten miles, maybe twenty, before seeing any signs of people again. Even then, they're all dead. Houses burned down, cars in pieces, and debris everywhere. Still, you find a road and can exhale for the first time since the destruction started.

You're about to turn and sail past the destruction when gunshots ring out. Jane screams, and you turn to avoid whoever is shooting. You curse and reach for your gun in the passenger seat as you speed away. You look back to make sure Jane didn't get hit and find her sitting there, breathing heavily but otherwise unharmed. You make it another two miles before your tire finally uses the last of its air, and you can't keep going. You reload the gun while you're safe in the car, and Jane watches with big eyes. She doesn't say anything as you throw your hair up and clip the magazine back in.

"Ready?" You ask as you meet her eyes. She just nods and climbs into your lap, clinging to your neck, as you get out of the car. You leave the only car you've ever known, the car you used to drive yourself to the hospital when you were in labor, and the car you drove Jane around for the first few years of her life on the side of a country road. You start walking away from the city and the gunshots, her face buried in your shoulder, as you listen for footsteps, screaming, and planes.

The only thing surrounding you is the chirping cicadas and the summer heat suffocating you. You decide to try and find somewhere to hide out until the morning. The light of day will give you an advantage. You can make a plan. You can keep Jane safe in the daylight. You rub her back as twigs crunch under your shoes, but she doesn't acknowledge the movement. You want to cry at how far removed she feels from her body. In the same vein, you're secretly glad that she is. Maybe she won't remember tonight. Maybe that's the best thing. Maybe this will all be a bad dream, and you'll wake up tomorrow in your bed.

"Stop right there!" A voice yells, proving you wrong. You jump and turn to see a soldier in full tactical gear with a gun pointed at you and Jane. You put her down and force her to stay behind you as you raise your hands above your head. "Drop your weapon!" The soldier yells again. It's a woman. You can see her blonde hair in the light of her flashlight, and you nod as you slowly put your gun down in the tall grass. Her gun stays pointed at you as Jane sniffles behind you.

"Mama," she cries, and you shake your head, putting a hand on her head to keep her behind you.

"Be quiet, Janey," you mumble, still staring at the soldier. "I have a kid. We're not… we're not sick like the others," you say, but she doesn't move. The bombs, the exit points being sealed off, the sirens. You realize what's happening. The military is trying to contain everyone within the city so they can kill the sick and whoever else might be. "You don't have to do this. Please."

"I have orders."

"She's five," you say. Jane squirms behind you, but you don't let her move into the line of fire. "She doesn't even know the alphabet yet. Please, don't do this." The soldier's radio crackles with a request for her location, but she doesn't make any move to answer it. Instead, she adjusts her grip on her gun and frowns.

"I'm sorry." She says. You dive, pulling Jane down, and scramble for your gun. Bullets fire over your head, making your ears ring as you blindly reach for the metal and press Jane into your chest. You find the grip, cover Jane's ear with one hand, and shoot until the automatic weapon stops firing. Your head pulses with pain from the ear-splitting gunfire, and your vision swims before you realize Jane is still tucked into your chest. You look down and see her— there are tears dried to her face, and she looks scared as hell, but she seems fine. Until you see blood on her shirt. You immediately sit up to search her for injuries when your arm burns with hot pain. A bullet grazed you. That's where the blood is coming from. She didn't get hurt. You let out a shaky breath as you hug her tightly, clutching her like a lifeline.

"You're bleeding," Jane says, and you nod. You kiss her head and wipe your sudden tears away, the pain, exhaustion, and horror finally catching up with you.

"Don't worry about that. Are you hurt?" You ask, putting your hands on her face to look at her.

"That was really scary." She says. You open your mouth to say something comforting, but the crackling of the now-dead soldier's radio pulls your attention. You look around to make sure you're alone in the field before rushing over and smashing her radio. Blood rolls down your arm as you turn her body to take her backpack full of tactical gear and her gun. Twenty-four hours ago, you'd never even seen a dead body. Now you're stripping one for resources while your daughter watches. You dig through the backpack until you find a first aid kit and unroll enough bandage for your arm. Then, without saying anything, you pick Jane up and start walking again.

You stay in the shadows and don't dare to turn on your flashlight. Instead, you rely on moonlight, but even that's shoddy with all the ash and smoke in the air. You ignore the blistering pain in your arm and the weight of the gear on your back. She is the most important thing you could ever carry. She comes first. You walk until you find an old barn, the door broken open, and the wood slats falling apart. It's probably been abandoned since long before tonight. Still, you set Jane down outside before clearing it, checking for threats as she stands just beyond the door. She's barely tall enough to even reach the door handle. Your heart hurts.

Once everything is secure, you and Jane settle along the back wall of the barn, hidden away from any prying eyes that might come around. She lays on your chest, and you run your hand through her hair as she listens to your heartbeat. Her cheek is smooshed against her hand as she starts losing a fight with her eyelids. You can hear her breathing and the way she jumps a little every time she starts to fall asleep. It's the quietest it's been all day.

"Try to get some sleep, okay?" You say quietly as you kiss her temple. She looks up at you and pushes some hair out of your face. It's her way of returning the favor for playing with her hair. She does it every time you guys snuggle like this. Normally, it makes you smile, but you feel more like crying at how gently she touches your face.

"I wanna go home." She whines.

"I know," you say. "We'll go home soon."

"But not tonight?"

"Not tonight."

"I'm scared." She says. You sit up and hold her face in your hands, barely able to make out her features in the moonlight streaming through the roof. Still, you can feel the fear running through her blood. You can feel her heartbeat against yours.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. Ever. Not tonight, not tomorrow, and not the day after that, okay? I will always be here to protect you, no matter what," you say. "Do you trust me?" You ask, and she nods. She relaxes in your hands and buries her head in your chest again. You rub soothing circles into her back and hum her favorite Janis Joplin song, the vibrations helping her heart rate to even out. When you're pretty sure she's asleep, you reach for your backpack and pull your gun out, keeping it low and pointed at the door as she rests.

"Mommy?" She whispers suddenly, sleep on the edge of her voice, and you look down to see her staring at you.

"What's up, bug?"

"Why did you hurt those people?" She asks, knocking the wind out of you. Quick flashes of gunfire, explosions, and glints of your knife replay in your mind. You can still feel the terror and the adrenaline rolling through your veins. You swear you'll see the dead eyes of the infected for the rest of your life. As you go through your version of events, you keep coming back to how terrified Jane's screams made you. How the strain of her voice awoke something primal and dangerous deep inside you. How you killed without remorse to keep her safe.

If it were just you, you would've let the soldier shoot you, or the infected eat you. But it's not just you. You have her. You fought tooth and nail to bring her into this world, and you'll be damned if you let someone take her away from you. You'll kill anyone and anything before you let someone hurt her. But she's five. She can't process that. You'll be surprised if she can even process tonight because you know you definitely can't. So, you don't tell her any of that. You just kiss her forehead, hold her a little tighter, and flip the safety on your gun.

"Get some sleep."

#when you’re lost in the darkness #look for the light prequel #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #tlou fic #the last of us hbo

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lillylvjy · 1 year

Text

Nothings gonna take you (from my side)

A/n// prison guard Wilbur will forever have a hold on me. But anyways, enjoy this fic that took too much time to write because I’m indecisive!

Warnings// kissing (I blame Connor-/hj), yelling, paul dies, literally almost everything that happens in the video, reader is just falling in love with Wilbur, reader in handcuffs (don’t even-), like a sexual reference once, crap ending, and if I missed anything please tell me :)

Edited: no.

wc: 1.5k

It was another normal Tuesday, being woken up by the sound of yelling and banging on the metal bars outside of your room.

“Wake the fuck up!” You heard one of the guards yell. More like volunteers with the way they watch over you all.

You begrudgingly got up and out of the uncomfortable bed and stretch your limbs until they felt at ease.

“Aw, Man!” You heard the two other boys in your block yell as your door opened to be met with none other than Mr. Phil.

“Good morning!” He said in an unusually cheerful voice.

“Good morning?” You question back with a confused look on your face. “What’s going on? Why are you so smiley?” You asked the man in front of you.

“Oh you know! Just a good day!”

“It’s 7 in the morning how-“ your sentence got cut off by the sound of something hitting metal on the other end of the block. Once you saw the man who was making the noise, you closed your mouth as quick as lightening.

He was a tall man, around mid 6’ feet. He had black jeans that hung low on his hips and black shoes. He had a button up white t-shirt that framed his body beautifully with a light brown trench coat to accompany it. His hair was long and fluffy, covering half his face, but you could make out the sunglasses and monotoned look he had on his face. He kept banging the bat on the metal bar as he got closer to the group. Tommy and Ranboo practically shivering and holding onto each other in terror, Charlie gawking (which you would be doing but-), Phil smirking, and you. Oh lord, you were trying to get these thoughts out of your head. You shouldn’t find him attractive and think these, these stupid thoughts about a power hungry man. Right?

“Who is that?” Charlie questioned as he continued to look at the mysterious man walking towards you.

“Who the fuck knows.” You murmured as you looked at him with wide eyes, trying to keep your composure as he stopped in front of all of you.

“Listen up! Oi, Mr. Watson, why’re they out of their cells?” The man looked at you for a second then looked at Phil.

“Ah well you know! It’s a new day!”

“Just the way we always do things!” Charlie added on as he cowardly clutched the metal railing.

He thought for a moment before declaring, “Cell inspection, get in!”

You scoffed as you turned back around to go into your cell, but being cut off by someone grabbing your arm. “Have a problem with that, do you?” The tall man asked.

“No. I just find it highly unnecessary.” You retorted back at him as he smirked down at you and let you go.

“Check them last.” He told the guards as he kept his eyes on you the whole time.

You walked into your cell, patiently standing in the middle of it, humming a tune that you recently heard on the radio Phil turns on during the day. You kicked the dirt on the floor around until you finally heard screaming from a couple doors down. You quickly looked out to see Phil taking Tommy away from the group.

“Y/n! Y/n, help! I don’t want to go to solitary, please!” Tommy yelled at you as he got taken down the stairs and out of view.

“Solitary? What the fuck did he do to get solitary?” You asked out loud.

“Mud on his bed.” Charlie answered your question.

“Really? Fucking mud? Was it that assholes idea?” You asked as Charlie went back in the room to inspect Ranboo’s bed.

A couple second pass when you see the man with the pink bear Ranboo named Paul in his hands.

“We had to switch beds, we had to switch beds! No! Paul!” Ranboo cried out as you leant against the doorframe of your cell, watching the events happen.

Paul ended up getting hit by the bat (after 5 million tries), but you will say, he looks hot taking authority- what?!

“Mr. Cicle! Take Ranboo back to his cell and watch him. I’ll inspect this pretty little things bed.” He pointed the bat at you as he walked down the hall to you. You quickly looked to the ground, cheeks flaring red at the nickname he gave you, not wanting him to see the effect he already has on you.

As he finally made it to your cell, he placed his forearm against the frame, looking down at you with a smirk. “Mind moving for me darling?”

“Why do you even need to inspect my bed? Think I’m hiding something?” You ask as you look up at him with a quirked eyebrow as he smirked down at you.

He scoffed. “No. I just want to make sure you don’t have another man in your bed.”

“Wha- Why does that mat-“ You were quickly cut off as the man took off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt. It took you a second to fully get a glimpse of his eyes to finally recognize the man.

“Just want to make sure that I’m still the only man that’s been in your bed.”

You eyes popped out of their sockets as you finally realized who it was. “Wilb-“ you exclaimed got cut off as he placed his hand on your mouth and pushed you into the room. He pushed the door close with his foot as he backed you up into the wall beside it.

“Sh, sh, sh. Don’t want them finding out, do we love?” He asked as he took his hand away from your mouth with a smirk on his face as you smiled up at him.

“You fucking asshole, I thought you left me!” You let out a breathy laugh as you stared up at him.

“You think that lowly of me? Leaving my right hand man to rot in this place?” He asked with an offended look on his face.

“Oh so I’m only a right hand man now?!” You feigned a shocked expression up at Wilbur as he smiled down at you, placing his hand on your cheek.

“Hmm, I’d say I little bit more than one.” Wilbur whispered as he leant down to you.

You chuckled as he pressed his nose against yours. “Oh yeah, like what?”

He brings his free hand up and taps his chin like he’s in thought. “Hmm, maybe like my house cleaner?”

“Fuck off!” You slapped his chest as you giggled at his joke. You made eye contact with him before grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to connect your lips together.

Wilbur grabbed the back of your head as he leant down more to deepen the kiss. It wasn’t like the usual kisses you’d sneak in every once in a while when the guards weren’t looking. It was slow and passionate and full of so much love and adoration.

Wanting more, you tightened your grip on his shirt, pulling him closer, if it was even possible, and pouring all your love for him in the kiss. You loved this man. Even if he burnt down churches and shops, you would always love him. No matter what happened.

And he felt the same about you.

Unfortunately, humans need air to breathe and function. You pulled slowly pulled away from the kiss as you panted, trying to refill your lungs with the sweet air that was between you and Wilbur, breathing in his scent as you did.

You smiled up at him as he leant his forehead against yours and sighed in content, eyes closed and a small smile on his face. Once you opened his eyes, he saw your wide eyes looking up at him, a smile on your face as you cupped his face and rubbed his cheek bones.

“I love you, Will Gold.”

“And I love you, darling. Now come on! We have to go get Tommy!” Wilbur whispered at you as he put the glasses back on.

“Wait- why Tom?” You asked, eyebrows pulled together as you tilted your head, looking at him and with a confused expression.

“I kinda promised him I’d get him out of here…” Wilbur said slowly, afraid of what you’ll say.

“Fucking hell- Fine! He’s lucky I like him.” You say as Wilbur smiles down at you and walks behind you to pull your hands behind your back.

“And your lucky we’re in public, because if we weren’t-“

“Don’t. Even finish that sentence. Keep it in your pants Mr. Gold.” You shook your head as he applied the handcuffs on you as opened the door.

“I’ll try. Also, if I hurt your ears I’m sorry, but I’m the boss around here so, kinda have to be, you know?”

“Hmm yeah. And trust me, I find it attractive.” You smirked up at him as he walked you down the hall to the stairs.

“You little- I cannot wait till we’re out of here.” Wilbur interlaces your hands together as best as he could as he walked you down the stairs.

“Um- Sir! Where- Where are they going?!” Charlie asked as he saw you in handcuffs and Wilbur with a hard expression behind you.

“Solitary confinement. I’ll be back in a few Mr. Cicle.”

taglist: @deadphantomsociety @jadeissues @aimi-chann @art3m1s-adelia @gaytoadwithapopsicle @maarriiii @mcr-pr-fob @romancingdaffodils @sixofshadowandbone @bird-shack @swevenne @ezzylikesdabee @ella-fella-bo-bella (and if you want to be added, feel free to ask lovelies <3)

#lilly writes #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot #dsmp wilbur #wilbur x reader #wilbur mcyt #wilbur dream smp #wilburfromlvjy #mcyt imagine #dsmp x reader #x reader

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liyawritesss · 4 months

Text

ɪɴꜱᴏᴍɴɪᴀᴄ!ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Characters: Peter Parker, Mary-Jane “MJ” Watson, Harry Osborn, Miles Morales

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: General headcanons for the main protagonists of Insomniac’s Spider Man 2 on PS5.

Warnings: probs some cursing somewhere, and ofc spoilers for the spiderman 2 game! You’ve been warned!!!

A/N: This game is definitely up there as one of the best games I’ve seen/played in 2023, so it wouldn’t be right for me to go into 2024 and still not have much written for it; so I’m correcting that! Take this as a spoiler for those who have not finished playing the game/watching a full gameplay of it to the end.

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @marsfunzon22 @briology @honeybleed @romiantic @onlyperc @starsoirees @yasminisbroke @asensitivecookie @kdyance @sussybaka10 @famedrs-blog @milesismyhubby @foreclosure--of--a--dream @ykimobessed @soilmayo

Peter Parker

Oh poor Peter, he’s just got so much going on. With Aunt May and the house, him tryna find a stable job, his relationship with MJ, and now prioritizing his friendship with Harry, he’s being pulled in so many different directions it’s honestly dizzying!

There’s so much going on in his life that I wouldn’t be too surprised if he developed some anxiety around it. Like we know Peter for being this quirky, goofy kid who’s got hella jokes and can rock your ass in a science test, but when he’s alone, the turbulence of his life gets to him a little. And it’s not like he can let anyone really know - he’s Spiderman for crying out loud! If he goes down, who knows how the rest will take it.

And of course the Venom Symbiote doesn't make things any better - Pete’s whole acting like an ass thing wasn’t intentional by no means necessary, but I think that would also play into his anxiety as well. He doesn’t want to ever hurt his friends the way he did with that symbiote in him - they’re the last thing he has.

On a completely not depressing note, I feel like having the house to himself gives Peter the opportunity to really figure out his own aesthetic. Sure, he’s the cute nerdy heartthrob guy, but he wants to expand himself! I feel like he wouldn’t be into the super modern high tech home decor that’s been sweeping through every interior designers palette - I see him as a mix of warm country house vibes (courtesy of Aunt May), with a hint of the technological advantages that he’d implement into certain appliances and spaces (*coughcough* at home lab *coughcough*) and a finishing touch of midcentury modern for a pop of color….it won’t stop him from being a bit of a slob though unfortunately.

Mary-Jane “MJ” Watson

If i were her I’d be one critique away from giving Mr. J.J.Jameson a taste of his own desk, because oh my god the self-centeredness he possesses makes me want to vomit. But it’s a good thing I’m not, and our darling redhead angel has enough patience to deal with him for the sake of a bag - I applaud her for that.

I know a lot of people don’t like the MJ segments in the game but i actually appreciate them! Shows that she’s not just a pretty face that Pete falls in love with you know? And I like to think she actually likes the moments she gets to take down the Hunters because it makes her feel like a badass - which she totally is!

As a destresser from being a prime member of the Spider Team (yes, I’m claiming them as the Spider Team since Spider Squad is already taken) and her journalism job, I’d like to think she’s into something so niche like jewelry making - specifically little charm bracelets that she gifts to the others. Yknow, on some ‘friendship lasts forever’ type shit.

Also in her freetime she has writing projects on the side that she wouldn’t consider viable enough to send in as a story, but just fun little stories she’ll write for the hell of it. There’s nothing too specific about them, but they also serve as a way to track how her writing is progressing, and she’s in a group of beta readers of sorts that give her feedback on how much better she’s getting.

Another poor boy that just has way too much on his hands, good lord. Granted, I never saw the hype around Harry, but I think after this adaptation of him I might be warming up to him a little bit.

Harry Osborn

Getting on the bandwagon of adopting new hobbies, I see Harry as getting into drawing, especially during the period in which he doesn’t have the suit. Since his health is deteriorating and he isn’t able to be as mobile as he would like, he needs something to keep his mind and hands busy. And drawing does the trick for him. He starts off with just basic drawings like items in his room, but he advances very quickly and starts drawing portraits of himself and MJ, who spends a lot of time taking care of him. He symbalso sketches a picture of him and Peter when they were in highschool over and over again, especially when he runs out of muses.

Harry also spends a lot of his time thinking. Thinking about his life thus far, his friends, the legacy he wants to leave behind. He doesn’t just want his last name attached to something to make it great - he wants to earn his keep and his place in society. It was the whole reason he started the Emily-May Foundation; it would have been his mark on the world, and yet, here he was, tied down to his bed once again. Then again, who knows if the symbiote would have done the same to himself, had he let his own convictions get too far?

Considering what happens at the end of the game, though, I suppose we won’t ever know…until the next installment that is.

Miles Morales

Why are there so many poor boys in this game? Like I got enough sympathy to go around but Jesus save these guys!!!

He is a HEAVY romantic, especially when it comes to Hailey (so so SO happy he got his girl in the end was rooting for them so hard in his game). He plans their dates according to the mode and vibe of the day, whatever the two are feeling, whatever is mentioned in fleeting conversations, etc. He’s in love and proud of it!

He’s getting better at dividing up the attention to the important people in his life, as well as school and his Spiderman duties. Sundays are for him and his mom to lounge in their pajamas and catch up with each other on the weeks events; he hangs with Ganke throughout the week and sometimes goes out with him to science expo’s every now and then. He’ll pop up on Hailey whenever she’s in the neighborhood and just sits and chills with her (and if she’s working on a street piece, even better! He’s her no. 1 supporter!)

He, Peter and Ganke get into rubix cubes competitions to see who can complete the rubix cube the fastest. Right now Ganke is ranked number one and Peter and Miles are tied for second place, but they’re getting another, more difficult cube to compete again soon.

He’s got a big heart, and knowing the effects of everything that’s happened with Harry, Miles makes it a point to check in with Peter every now and then. He’s lowkey worried that if the older Spiderman’s worry for his best friend doesn’t do him in, then somehow the effects of the Venom symbiote on Peter’s psyche will turn him cold again, and that doesn’t end well at all. He does this well with MJ, and they talk frequently on how they can be better support for Pete and Harry in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #spiderman #black spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman x black!reader #insomniac spiderman #spiderman 2 ps5 #spiderman miles morales #peter parker #mary jane watson #mj watson #harry osborn #miles morales #spiderman 2 headcanons #spiderman headcanon

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