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devilfic · 5 months

Text

❝small favor❞

V. the christmas special.

parts: previously / next plot: it's the most beautiful time of the year. pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: christmas shenanigans, alcohol mentions, harry gets drunk for norman osborn related reasons, peter is a little ball of anxiety because he likes you, can I share with you what jobs I think ned and mj got after graduation. words: 8.4k.

a/n: this was gonna be a two-parter but I thought. no. so instead it's just super long :D

Peter has started visiting more.

There were the surprise visits on weekends. Something was just too important to wait a week, and too important to give you a call, and you liked that he made a note of bringing you food for the trouble. Then he was popping in on Wednesday nights—sometimes Friday mornings—because he'd forgotten to tell you this or he just couldn't wait to tell you that.

And he has texting you more, too. Not super serious things either, and after a few days of it, you had worked the fight or flight reaction to his ringtone out of your system. At some point, you had started feeling like this was becoming... a genuine friendship.

"I mean... I... yeah. We talked about it, didn't we?" Peter stops pouring, brownie batter dribbling off the lip of the bowl, "Friends. I- I think of you as a friend. If you think of me... as a friend."

You gnaw on your pen as you study him. It's another weekend surprise visit, and this time he's brought you boxed brookie batter as an olive branch. You'd actually been busy this time, and so you'd put him to work baking it while you made your vacation list, "It's just... crazy. I mean, we went from being strangers to only seeing each other once a week—purely professionally—and now you bake me things. And we hang out."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing! It's just weird," he continues to pour as you talk, "I used to see you as this unattainable hero. I couldn't believe you trusted me, felt comfortable enough to tell me your name, to care enough that even EDITH knows who I am. And now we're friends."

Peter's nose scrunches at that, and you've never wished more than now that you could see the rest of his face. He starts placing balls of cookie dough in the batter, "You talk about me like I'm Beyoncé or something."

"You're the Beyoncé of superheroes."

"Hey, that is not true. That title goes to Captain Marvel."

"Not to me."

"Well, of course not to you. You're my biggest fan."

"Wow, demoted to a fan already."

Peter slides the pan into the oven, "You know what I mean. You're biased."

"You're starting to sound like Jameson now."

He kicks the oven door closed and hops up onto the kitchen counter next to you, nudging your knee with his knee, "Oh, you haven't heard my Jameson impression. Watch this." Peter clears his throat, clenches his fist, and shakes it in the air, "Spider-Man is a menace and should be charged with domestic terrorism!"

You giggle, "Do more."

"5G isn't giving your kids cancer, it's Spider-Man leaving his webs all over the city!"

"More!"

"Spider-Man is laying eggs in our city's sewers so that one day, all his freaky spider children will rise up and take over New York!"

"Please, keep going."

Peter groans. You see his head tilt toward the notepad in your lap, "How's the vacation going? Or vacation planning, I guess."

You sigh. Your list to pack kept getting longer, and yet, anytime you tried to focus on what to bring, you would just remember something else you needed to do before leaving New York. "How do you think, based on my utter lack of excitement?"

Peter raises a brow, "Whaaat? You're not excited for Miami?"

"I was, but... everything in the world is happening at the same time. Jameson wants me to get two more articles out before I leave and my family wanted me in Florida three days ago. At this rate, I'm just barely going to make it there before Christmas. Not to mention..." You trail off as you look to Peter, whose mask eyes have gone comically wide in interest, "I don't want to leave you all alone."

"You know I've been Spider-Manning since I was like, 14, right?"

"Well, yeah, but- wait, 14?" Peter grimaces. You gloss over it before he can worry himself about it, "Anyway, I just worry. I mean, with Fisk turning the PR tide and God knows what he's planning, I don't wanna just fly to the other side of the country. It feels wrong."

Peter smirks, "Nah, nah. It's fine. I can take care of myself."

"Don't make me remind you about how all of this," you gesture between Peter and the oven, "started." He looks away from you, sheepish. "You know what I mean, right? Maybe I'm overestimating my worth to you, but-"

"You're definitely not. You have no idea how much you mean to me." That stuns you. It stuns both of you, clearly, if Peter's frantic peek at your face was anything to go by. His mouth gapes like a fish out of water for a moment, "I just mean that... you've made being Spidey... easier on me. It's nice knowing someone's actually on my side in this city. So yeah, it will feel really weird without you being just a swing away."

"You can still call, Peter. I won't mind."

"And when your family asks who's bothering you while you're sunbathing on the beach?"

"I mean, my little cousins will be impressed if I name drop Spider-Man."

He smiles. He kicks his feet out, heels bumping the cabinet doors beneath you while silence settles. You take this chance to examine a slight fraying on the fabric of his suit, a hole beginning to form on his upper thigh that you could just fit your pinky through. You remembered a time when his suit was made out of sweatpants and a dream.

He was 14 when he first started all of this. When you were 14, you were stressing over high school essays and alien invasions. You couldn't help but think that maybe he'd lost his youth to this thing. This thing that brought you together.

Spider-Man who, back then, was really a kid. He'd had to grow into it. You couldn't imagine having to grow into that. "Well, that's enough about my holiday plans. What about you?" Peter prepares to answer, then deflates. "What's up?"

He bites his bottom lip, "I don't... have any."

Your heart sinks, "What? Why not?"

"No, no, it's fine. I'll probably be out on patrol making sure everybody else is having a safe, criminal-free winter break."

Sliding off the counter, you come to stand in front of Peter with your arms folded, "Absolutely not."

"Okay, before you say anything-"

"It's Christmas, Peter! You're supposed to take time off! Be with friends and family. If you never take a break, you'll wear yourself out."

"Just hear me out-"

"No! I won't have it. You're not the only hero in New York. You're taking Christmas off. I don't care if I have to stuff you in a carry-on and take you with me but you will not be working-"

One hand clamps around the back of your head and the other silences you, turning your complaints into mush, "If you would let me finish..." you huff indignantly against his hand, "you'd know that a friend of mine is throwing a Christmas party and I was invited. There. I have plans."

Your face softens. "Really?" You ask, but the sound is muffled and it comes out more like, "Will-ee?"

Peter laughs, hand slipping from your mouth, "Really. I'll at least take a few hours off. Maybe more if I fall into a food coma."

Peter's other hand is still cradling your head, but you don't bring it to his attention. "You promise? I won't have to fly back early and check up on you, will I? 'Cause I'll do it."

"I wouldn't stop you." You glower, making Peter's mask eyes squint with amusement, "I promise."

"Sometimes I think you like making me worry over you."

"Would you believe me if I said that I'm just this awful all the time?"

"Yes, but that would make me worry even more."

The hand at your neck gently curls around the side of your throat, Peter's thumb angling your chin up to his own. The brush of it makes you tremble just slightly.

Was he trying to make you dissolve into a puddle?

"I'll be okay. Just... come back to the city, will ya? Don't fall in love with Miami."

You place one of your hands over the hand on your throat. The other hovers somewhere near his knee on the countertop, unsure of yourself. When you admire his exposed mouth, you think of Peter. Parker.

You remember you hadn't actually talked about that since it happened. It was Peter's intention to skirt around Parker, regardless of how certain you were that they were the same person. It was all in jest, sure, but some small part of you (some incredibly small, minuscule, microscopic part of you) wondered if your reporter brain just fit the two pieces together because it wanted them to fit.

Perhaps he wasn't Peter Parker. Perhaps this really was all a coincidence, and perhaps aliens didn't fall from the sky and gods didn't save the world.

You wouldn't push him on it. You wouldn't look into it either, because reporter brain be damned. You cared more about the Peter you knew than the Peter you didn't.

You smile up at him, "How could I? Miami doesn't have you."

"Nice to see you could finally make it, kiddo." Jillian is grinning at you when you arrive, her baby tucked at her hip and her wife entertaining the little monster over her shoulder. She sees the winded look on your face and immediately motions you over, pressing a hand to your cheek, "Did you crawl out of a snowdrift? You're freezing!"

You lean into it, chasing the warmth in hopes that it would restore some feeling to your skin, "The storm's getting awful out there."

"Came outta nowhere, didn't it?" Jillian's wife snorts, booping the baby's nose. "We almost didn't risk coming with the little one, it was so bad."

Said little one looks perfectly warm wrapped up in her blanket, an envious sight as you shiver and shuck off your coat to hang. You would offer the kid a boop on the nose yourself, but with your fingers frozen solid around your offering—a plate of sugar cookies—you don't want to make her cry. You give her a smile instead.

"Oh, and would you believe it?" Jillian whispers, sidling up to you, primed for gossip, "We've got a real treat here tonight. Take a wild guess who decided to show up."

"Jonah's wife?"

Jillian cackles, "God no. The stalker."

As soon as she says the name, your eyes zero in on him.

He's wearing that plaid shirt again, but the collar and cuffs are all that peek out from underneath a wrinkly blue sweater. His hair is free and gelled back, revealing his nervous expression more clearly. Nursing a cup of apple cider, he just barely looks like he wants to be here. But then he catches your eye across the room.

And he waves.

"Oh my," Jillian teases, "you must've left quite the impression if he came all this way just to see you."

"He did not come just to see me." You reply in a hushed tone, but she laughs at you all the same.

"Sure. And that's not him heading over right now, even though he's been hugging the wall all night."

You jerk your head to where Parker was standing, and, sure enough, he's pursuing you.

You part from Jillian before she can get the chance to embarrass you (she accepts your cookies as payment), and so you all but jog to meet him halfway.

He doesn't get the chance to be polite before you're interrogating him, "Where did you go?"

"Uh... What?"

"At the gala. When I ran back inside the ballroom, I couldn't find you anywhere."

Peter's eyes slowly widen, "You went back inside?"

"Answer the question, please."

"Wh- I... I was there. You didn't see me?"

"No, I didn't."

"It got crazy after Fisk rushed the stage. I got swept up in the crowd. You must've missed me."

"Really? 'Cause I was with the crowd, you know. In front of the building? Where Fisk was giving his big speech about how he saved the day? I didn't see you anywhere."

Peter blinks, then gasps as if he'd just remembered something important, "You know what? That's right. I went to go find Harry. I wanted to make sure he was alright, and then I couldn't find you in the crowd so I just assumed... I'm sorry for leaving you back there all alone." You watch as he fumbles for something convincing, "I texted Spider-Man about it, though. He said you were safe."

You fold your arms, "...Is that all he said about me?"

"Well, that. And something about your conspiracy theory?"

"Conspiracy theory."

The topic change gets some of the tension in Peter's shoulders melting away, replaced with a smile faint enough to not pass as overtly smug. He waits for one of your co-workers to move out of earshot before continuing, "You think... I'm Spider-Man."

Your jaw tightens. You know that anyone would draw the same conclusions you did after that night. You also know that no matter how logical your reasoning is, you sound highly illogical when you admit to it out loud. If you brought up the same accusation to Jillian or Jameson, they'd both laugh you out of the office.

You have to stand your ground, though. If there was one thing you were learning about Peter, it was that he was easy to fluster, "And if I do?"

"I'm flattered, really, but I don't really have the hand-eye coordination."

You know it's bullshit. He should know you know it's bullshit. If it hadn't been for his quick thinking, you and Harry would've been trampled under the masses at the gala. It's bullshit and he's waiting for his checkmate that will never come.

You do not give it a second thought. You toss your phone at Peter's head.

And he catches it. Of course he does. He stops it mere inches from his face.

If anyone saw you try to give him a concussion, they don't come over to question you on it. "Can you..." Peter starts after a breath, a bit dazed, "...can you stop trying to hit me?"

You go to defend yourself because, at the very least, you hadn't meant to try to punch Peter—which meant it didn't count—when someone barrels right into you.

And, to prove you right twice in a row, Peter is quick to catch you. He scoops you up into his arms before you end up a reporter pancake on the floor. One of your co-workers, already blitzed off spiked eggnog, had bumped you on their way to the drinks table for what looked like the umpteenth time tonight, and didn't have enough marbles to apologize before bumping someone else.

Peter is careful in how he holds you. There's that unmistakable strength behind his grip, but also... he was gentle. He felt safe.

You don't make to escape just yet, all your bravado knocked right out of you. "Jesus, you okay?" His eyes dart over to your co-worker and a scowl turns his expression sour, "Jonah should put a cap on the drinks."

You feel more than embarrassed stumbling to your feet, even more so when Peter still coddles you after you're standing upright. "I'm fine. Thanks." Peter's looking at you, brows drawn together, with so much concern it makes that second thought from earlier come in hot with a sizable topping of shame, "Talk about instant karma."

Then it's gone. Peter laughs and... it sounds just like your Peter. Undeniably. You can't help but give in. For a fleeting moment, the question of secret identities has melted away and it's just the two of you, giggling about something silly.

You're ashamed enough to apologize for throwing your phone at his head when the laughter dies down. You succeed in stealing it back and lead him over to the windows, far away from any more drunken disasters, "It's alright. I've had worse thrown at me before."

You raise an eyebrow, "Oh? Like what?"

His voice catches in his throat at first, "A... carton of expired milk. High school bully, Flash Thompson. We were both on the same academic decathlon team but he never gave up on his dream of professional baseball."

"Flash Thompson? You mean, Silicon Valley, MIT grad, tech startup millionaire Flash Thompson?"

Peter winces, "The one and only."

You frown at the distant look on Peter's face, aware of some regret there at the mention of Flash. "You and Harry went to ESU together, right? Is that where you always wanted to go?"

Peter shakes his head, but a smile comes to his face regardless, "MIT was my first choice, actually. But... even with a scholarship, I just couldn't imagine leaving New York behind. So I stayed. Went to ESU. Helped my Aunt May with the mortgage on her first house since my... my uncle passed. And now I'm selling pictures of Spider-Man to pay my rent."

You can't help the way you soften. "I'm so sorry about your uncle, Peter. Your Aunt May is lucky to have you around."

His eyelids flutter closed for a breath, and his smile grows wider. If it were even possible. "I'm lucky to have her."

You stand there together in silence after that, but it feels more comfortable than before. All the scrutiny and speculation you'd come in with had faded away, and now you were left wondering more about Peter. His hopes, his dreams, his life before all of this. What would it have been like if he'd gone to MIT? Where would you be? Or Spider-Man?

Peter's eyes peel open, "So, what about you?"

"Oh. Well, I took a shine to my school newspaper. After... everything in 2012, I knew the world would never be the same. So I had dreams of becoming a journalist, covering the street, being the first on the scene. Took my ass to college on part-time jobs and a dream, and interned at nearly every newspaper in the city before Jameson gave me a shot here. As much as I can't stand the way he talks about Spidey... he's not that bad of a guy. All things considered."

Peter agrees, "He did hire you, so..."

"Yeah, well," you lean your cheek against the window, glass cooling your blush, "At least Spidey doesn't hold it against me... but, I have to ask: why the Bugle? I mean, with photos like yours, you should be fighting off every publication in the city. Instead you turn in these... absolute masterpieces, freelancing, for a guy who can't even give you due credit, and you only stop by for a paycheck."

Peter looks to the window, the wind howling over a crooner's cover of Santa Baby. The storm was still raging on outside, and you dreaded the thought of having to walk through it to get back home. The taxis wouldn't have much luck either from the looks of it. "I... like my job, but it's not what I wanna do forever. I don't care about fame or Pulitzer prizes. It's always been about taking care of me and my Aunt May, and Jameson is a lot of things but he's always understood that. He pays me enough that I can have a place of my own and a little leftover for my aunt, and he doesn't ask questions.

"I don't need to be seen. And that's the whole point, isn't it?" His expression gradually warms as he recalls something, "It's not who's behind the lens that matters, but who's in front of it."

Your expression warms too, "I can see why Spidey likes you."

A notification disturbs the moment. Raising a finger at Peter, you check the latest notification... and your stomach drops.

Peter takes a step forward, sensing the change in atmosphere, "What? What is it?"

"My flight's been cancelled. I was leaving tomorrow for Miami but the storm..."

"Oh. Man, I'm sorry."

"I should've left sooner, I should've left when my family..." You lose the motivation to even finish your sentence, feeling exhausted all at once, "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm stuck here for Christmas."

Peter stuffs his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet as he searches for something to say. You're about to tell him not to worry about it when he speaks up, "You know," he starts, the uncertainty in his voice giving you pause, "it's no... Miami, but my aunt throws this Christmas party every year? For Christmas Eve. We invite a few friends over for dinner. She'd love it if you came."

"Oh, Peter, that's sweet but... I don't really want to intrude on a friend thing-"

"No, no, it's okay! Anyone can come. It'll just be my aunt, some of her co-workers from F.E.A.S.T., a few of my friends, my ex-girlfriend-"

"Your- what?"

"Oh. Well, I mean, we were friends before we dated. Well... technically? She sort of just... hung around me and Ned in high school and then we started dating for a while but then we broke up in university. But we stayed friends. Became better friends, actually. So, she's my ex but also a really good friend. I promise it's not weird or anything. She's super cool about it. And I am too! Her name's MJ. I think you'll like her."

You stare at Peter. You think you see a bead of sweat twinkle on his forehead underneath the Christmas lights above.

He insists that you're welcome to come, and staying home alone for Christmas would be pretty hypocritical after your argument with Spider-Man.

Spider-Man.

"...and Spider-Man will be there."

Spider-Man?

You abruptly lock eyes with Peter. "Spider-Man?"

Peter's smile is tight-lipped, "Yeah." His voice cracks. "I mean, he's just stopping by real quick, but I invited him. He might not come. But... he also might."

Was this the friend of his throwing a Christmas party? Why in the world would Peter (Parker) invite you to the same party Spider-Man would be at, unless he could stand in the same room as him at the exact same time? There'd be no other way to convince you otherwise, and you'd be forced to accept that they really were two completely different people.

Yeah, right.

You'd go to this party and suss it out for yourself.

And it wouldn't hurt, would it? Peter was nice, if not the most awkward person you've ever met. To offer you a place at his aunt's Christmas dinner not long after hurling an object at his head was a sign of true Christmas spirit. You could learn a thing or two from him, "Okay. You've convinced me. What's your number? You can text me the address."

Peter blanks for a moment, "Um... yeah, um..." You watch him flounder, growing increasingly suspicious, "Can I see your phone?"

You drop your phone in his hand. His fingers move quickly across the keyboard before returning it to you. Peter Parker is now in your contacts. You check the number against Spidey's but there isn't a match. "Thanks," you glance at his wobbly smile, "I sent you a text."

Peter gestures behind him, "Oh, cool, awesome. Will you excuse me for a sec? I gotta use the restroom." And he doesn't wait for you to affirm before he's rushing down the hall and out of sight.

A full minute passes before you receive a text back from Peter.

15 Amfan Ave Forest Hills, NY 11375 7pm :) Hope you can make it! He never shuts up about you *I *shut

Hm.

So... I hear you're throwing things at people now Who told you that? You lose one phone, then you try to bludgeon an innocent man with another. I should lock you up and throw away the key I wasn't trying to bludgeon him, because I knew he'd be perfectly *fine*. And he helped me prove a point Which was... That the chances of him being you are more likely than either of you would have me to believe Could it be that you just have a thing for attractive, masked men? That is That is irrelevant to the conversation HA you so do Literally nothing to do with anything I just said It's okay. The mask makes it really easy to project one's ideal man onto me. Or so I've learned through Twitter I'm not projecting *anything* onto you Do you picture Ryan Reynolds when you talk to me? It's okay if you do Peter, shut up Maybe someone more boyish like Timothy chalet Timothee Chalet Timothee Chalamett I'd say you just like hearing yourself talk but this is a textual conversation I like that we can talk like this :) I like it too :) What about Tom Holland? We've got the same jaw If you think me accusing you of being Parker is me projecting a handsome man onto you, I can only assume you think he's hot. Which means I can assume you have a thing for him. Because I can also make things up Like Batman and Clark Kent? Are you saying Parker is the Clark Kent in our fictional relationship? More like Superman and Jimmy Olsen And you're my Lois Lane? ... Goodnight, Peter

Aunt May's home is beautiful. There's a lovingly sculpted garden out front that has since given into the snow, but you can tell it's a sight in the spring. For now, the Christmas garland lining the doorframe—wrapped in a rope of rainbow lights—brightens up the porch. As does the collection of little striped sweater-wearing gnomes gathered around the front door.

There's a commotion of voices behind it as you approach. You shift your plate into one hand, pressing the doorbell with the other, and the voices get louder. You swallow down your nerves when the door is ripped open by a stranger.

The stranger in question is staring out into the dark at you like they weren't expecting you. Your eyes quickly dart to the plaque beside the door and see a bold "15" emblazoned there. Nope. This is the house.

Their eyes zero in on the plate in your hand. Smiling, they open the door wide and step back, "Sweet! Peter said you'd bring dessert."

You kick the snow off your boots before stepping inside. The stranger shuts the door behind you before any more of the cold could get in. "It's peppermint bark," you explain, returning a smile of your own, "but I hear May's making a cake."

"May and Peter. May's great with everything but the oven- don't tell her I said that. I'm Ned, by the way." Ned holds his hand out for a shake.

Ned is really talkative, you find out. He holds your peppermint bark as you undo your boots and coat at the door, rattling off about how Peter and he had been friends at Midtown. He tells you about his job as a cybersecurity specialist, a job he'd naturally floated toward after graduating from MIT, and how he'd stayed with the Parkers for a few months after moving back to New York. It's how he knows that the downstairs bathroom door won't close unless you lift up when you shut it. You only remember about half of what he says by the time you get to the living room.

There are considerably fewer people than you expected, one of which makes his way over the minute you catch his eye.

"Hey," Harry grins. Unlike the nice suit he'd worn to the gala, he's dressed down in jeans and an ugly sweater with "I've been naughty" printed in big letters across the front, looking a lot less tense than when you'd first seen him, "Fancy seeing you here."

"I could say the same." You can't help but ask, "Don't the Osborns host Christmas Eve at Oscorp tower every year?"

Harry's good mood fizzles out right before your eyes. You feel pretty awful about it. "Uh, yeah. Norman does. But it's more business than anything, so I dipped. I'd rather be here watching Pete fuck up a perfectly good cake."

"I heard that!" Peter's voice calls from a room away.

Harry's good mood returns, "Well, it's good to see you at the annual Parker holiday celebration. And I'll forgive you for poking into my family business if you hand over those treats."

Bashful, you let Ned pass the plate into your hands before passing it to Harry, "Sorry. Reporter brain."

Harry's nose scrunches up, "Don't apologize. Unless these taste like ass."

"I promise they taste better than ass."

"Good enough," he backs away, turning his head to shout down the hall, "Peter! Get in here already!"

When the redhead is immersed in a game of UNO, you turn to Ned, "And that doesn't... feel weird? Having Harry Osborn at family dinner?"

"There are weirder things about Peter. Speak of the devil."

The ugly sweater is the first thing you notice. A companion to Harry's, it is nearly the exact same design, except for the "I've been nice" where the "I've been naughty" had been. He's dusting his hands of something when he comes around the corner. His eyes soften when he sees you with Ned, "Hey, you came." He says in a much too gentle voice. Harry and his opponents nearly drown him out with their cheers and boos.

Unlike at the office party, you notice, Peter's hair isn't tamed by hat nor hair gel. Instead, it curls incessantly around his flushed cheeks. He looked like a damn Keebler elf. It was frustratingly adorable. "Of course. I heard there'd be cake."

"How is that cake, Peter?" Ned pulls on a piece of the ugly sweater as he walks by, and you realize that some of the red had been singed. You follow Peter's frantic gaze from the hole to you.

"This was unrelated to the cake."

"You burned something else?"

"No! One of the stockings fell into the fireplace and I-" Peter trails off as you begin to smile, "you don't get to laugh at me if you didn't bring sweets."

"I did! Harry stole them." You nod over to the coffee table where the group is devouring your peppermint bark with reckless abandon. At least you knew they didn't taste like ass. Peter rushes over to steal the plate before they could polish off the last handful, much to their protest.

"Dinner's almost ready, I swear. You've met Ned, uh, Harry..." Peter scans the group, using his free hand to point out people, "...that's Yolanda, Katie, Lexie, Eduardo: all May's friends. May's in the kitchen but I'd stay out of her way until the ham comes out unharmed."

You notice that out of everyone gathered in the house, he does not mention his ex-girlfriend. "And MJ?"

You wait for an answer. Instead, something heavy shakes the house from above. It doesn't sound like it came from outside, but rather somewhere in the house. Not quite above your head. Weirdly enough, only you seem to be concerned about it.

Peter just glances at the ceiling, "And MJ."

MJ is tossing an empty storage bin to the side when you crawl up through the floor behind Peter. She's crouched on the balls of her feet, shoulders slouched, the sharp bones of her back poking through her tight graphic tee. Her head snaps toward you both when she hears you grunt up the last rung of the ladder. Her eyes narrow on you, then Peter, "I can't find it."

Peter offers you a hand to hoist you further into the attic, "Did you check the-"

"Yes. And I checked the one next to it. And the one next to that."

You look at Peter for an explanation, but he doesn't provide you with one. He walks over to where MJ has now fallen back on her ass, rifling through one of the bins. His mouth twists to the side. "Maybe she meant the box next to her old CDs?"

"There's like 15 boxes in here, Peter."

Off to the side of the room, where MJ was currently facing the mysterious dilemma, were about nine—not 15—storage bins in disarray. Two were off to the side, emptied of their contents: there were piles of men's clothes, women's clothes, baby blankets, and more. The third box that MJ was poring over had Halloween decorations in it.

"Well, you're getting close." Peter encourages.

The way MJ grumbles resentfully has you squirming. As time ticked on, your presence unannounced, you were starting to feel like an intruder. You clear your throat and MJ looks over at you for the second time, "Maybe I could help?" You offer.

At this, MJ brightens. "Finally! Someone cares about my plight. I don't know you, do I?"

You crawl over to where MJ is sitting and Peter gestures to you, "MJ, I told you about the reporter from the Bugle, right?" You give your name for good measure, and MJ's eyebrows raise. She gives a quick, indecipherable look to Peter. He returns it. Then she examines you.

After a moment, she dusts her hand off on her khakis and holds it out for you to shake, "Michelle Jones. Call me MJ." You repeat her nickname warmly. "Peter never shuts up about you."

Peter chokes on his spit.

"He... he does?"

MJ continues shaking your hand for longer than necessary, smiling secretively now, "Oh, yeah. He's got your blog bookmarked too. Post notifs for your Twitter, the works." You cut your eyes to Peter, appalled that he'd ratted you out to someone else, but MJ is quick, "I figured it out on my own ages ago."

"Is it really that obvious it's me?"

"No." And she smiles wider.

Peter is about to cut in with something when a woman's voice rings out, shrill and clear despite two layers of flooring in between you. He's needed with the ham. He looks between you and MJ, reluctant, "Look, if you can't find it-"

"We will." MJ's reply is confident, leaving no room for failure. You feel a little pressure applied to "we".

Peter nods. He mouths an apology at you and skitters out of the attic.

Left alone with MJ, you notice that she is staring at you now. You feel like you've been left alone with an oracle, prepared for your innermost being to be laid bare before you: past, present, and future. She looks like the type to know what makes people tick.

"What are you looking for?" You try to break the silence, though your voice comes out meeker than you'd have liked.

She doesn't look away from you as her fingers grip the container in between her legs, "Uncle Ben's favorite Christmas sweater. All I know is it has a reindeer holding a beer on the front."

Reinbeer. You almost laugh at it. You imagine it would tickle an uncle pink too. "Then I'll get to looking."

You've only just crawled over to a bin of your own when MJ asks you outright, "You like Peter, right?"

Your hand stills as it pries the top off. You feel her eyes burning into your back. "He's... nice, yeah."

You can hear how unimpressed she is with that, "I don't know if it's obvious, but Peter isn't exactly popular." You think that's kind of a cruel thing to say about someone you consider a friend, but MJ keeps going, "All he had was Ned back at Midtown. And me, eventually. I've known him since high school and he's made maybe a handful of friends, maybe less. The last time he invited someone new to Christmas dinner was Harry."

And that had been at least a few years, judging by how long Harry had been away at Oxford.

But why was she telling you this?

"He likes you." You yelp when you realize MJ's voice has gotten close. You turn, and she's kneeling behind you with no interest in your fear. "But do you like him?"

In her hands is a faded, toy Iron Man mask. "I... I think he's nice. I mean kind," you correct yourself when MJ frowns, "but I... I don't really know him. I mean, I don't think I do. I've only actually spoken to him twice and one of those times, there was a gun involved. Everything I know about him is through his pictures and Spidey, and I trust Spidey. So, I trust Peter."

"And Spider-Man?"

"What?"

"Do you like Spider-Man?"

You swallow. Like didn't really sum up how you felt about him. He was a hero, an inspiration, a friend, and also... yeah, you felt something more there too.

You think about why she would ask. Why it would have anything to do with you liking Peter or not. You look at her and it feels like she hasn't really asked you that different of a question at all. Your answer is much more definitive this time, "I do. I like him more than I know what to do with."

MJ leans back on her haunches. She appraises you, "He's pretty great, isn't he?" Her tone is considerably softer.

"Yeah. He really is." You smile.

MJ hands the mask to you and you take it, admiring the chips in its paint and the lovingly worn edges. She scoots between you and the bin you'd been looking into and pops the lid off. Almost immediately, she swears in relief. Sitting folded on top is the most gaudy sweater you've ever seen. A deformed reindeer is embroidered on the front, and sure enough, holds a can of beer in its hoof. When MJ shakes it out, little specks of dust fly everywhere.

This, too, she hands to you. You look at her in bewilderment. "You'll wanna make a good first impression with May," she advises, "just be prepared for the water works."

And there are water works.

May throws her arms around your neck and just about sobs her thanks to you, squishing the sweater between your chests. You note that she smells like candy canes. When she draws back, her glasses are all askew, "And I'm so glad you could make it! Peter wouldn't shut up about you. Isn't that right, Petey?"

Peter's eye twitches. "I'm gonna set the table. Ned, you wanna set the table?" And he scoots past you and May without waiting for a response.

"Don't mind him, he gets testy when he's cooking. Did Petey give you the tour?" You shake your head and May kisses her teeth in Peter's direction, "Okay, this is the kitchen, around the corner here is the dining room. You've seen the living room and the attic. The bathroom is by the front door, and the bedrooms are upstairs. If someone's in the bathroom down here, do not use the bathroom by the stairs. That's Ned's favorite when he gets bubbly guts, and he will get bubbly guts."

Ned complains under his breath as he walks by.

"If you need somewhere to get away from the festivities for a bit, backyard's that way and my room's upstairs, first door to the left. All good?" She pets your shoulder. Then, she looks down at the sweater still in your hands and takes it from you, tenderly. "I'm gonna go change into this and then dinner is served. Help yourself to anything, okay?"

May leaves you in the kitchen with that. Around the corner, Peter and Ned are fussing over where to put the ham and sides. Around the other corner, Harry is drunkenly singing Christmas carols with Yolanda. MJ watches on from the corner of the room, recording on her phone. She catches your eye and mouths, "For blackmail."

You peek into the dining room and Peter is worrying over one of the chairs. You can hear Ned scold him, "Sit next to them. You don't wanna talk over the ham. It'll kill the mood."

"But how do I... subtly get them to sit in this chair and not next to MJ or something?"

"Tell MJ not to sit next to them."

"But what if-" You jolt a little when Peter suddenly spots you eavesdropping. He straightens up with a death grip on the chair he'd been messing with, "Hey! Hi. This is your chair by the way." And he tops it all off with a smile.

It's warm in May's home.

You don't even register the cold at first. You do register Harry's frenzy, the way he grabs far more napkins than he needs to, pressing them to your stomach where the majority of his spilled drink had gone. When you finally do comprehend what just happened, you place your hands over his, "How long have you been plotting your revenge?"

Harry is red-faced. He lets you hold the napkins there while May rushes to find a towel, "Sorry. I wasn't looking where I was- sorry."

You don't get to dwell on the déjà vu of it all. May is ushering you up the stairs with a beach towel pressed to your front, muttering about how she'll have to put Harry on ginger ale for the rest of the night. She guides you into what you're certain is Peter's old bedroom.

It's been cleaned out, and most of his personal belongings must be at his own place, but there are still old posters on the wall, and a calendar dated in April, two years ago. His bed is ruffled like he'd slept overnight. It's neat, and looks like it usually is neat, but there are traces of him everywhere, like picture frames with Peter and May and a man you don't recognize.

"Peter probably has something here you can wear. It's all stuff from college." She digs through the top drawer of his dresser, finally stopping on a sweatshirt with Empire State University in college block across the chest. "Here! You think this'll fit?"

She stretches it out and you nod, thankful, "Yeah, thank you so much, May."

She smiles, "Okay. Bathroom's across the hall if you need to wash off. I can run your shirt through a wash while you're here if you'd like. Just let me know, okay?"

May is, perhaps, the sweetest woman on earth. She leaves you with a thumbs up and shuts the door behind you, reminding you to lock it after she leaves.

Your shirt had absorbed most of the drink, and you're relatively unscathed besides some sticky residue. You wipe at your stomach with the towel she'd given you and slip Peter's sweater on. It feels... odd, wearing it. It smells like May's house with little traces of Peter.

Your eyes drift back to the picture frames.

One such frame sits on top of the dresser, a photo of Peter and the man who you assume is Uncle Ben. He holds Peter in a headlock but they're both smiling at the camera. You smile too, tracing a finger around the wooden edges.

Another picture is of Peter and MJ and Ned, standing outside of MIT with their fingers pointing at the school. Another is of Peter and MJ sharing cotton candy at Coney. Another is of Peter as a little boy, with two people flanking his side that you do not know. You realize you'd never asked about Peter's parents.

There are other photos of him around that age with May and Ben, and as you piece together what feels like an undoubtedly tragic story, you catch something outside the window.

A person. Hanging onto the side of the house.

Your heart hammers in your chest as a hand pushes the window up, and then, "Did I scare you?" Spider-Man perches on the sill with what you can imagine is a shit-eating grin.

You stomp over to the window and shove at his shoulder, but he doesn't budge in the slightest, "You almost gave me a heart attack! Were you watching me get dressed?"

The mask's eyes blow open, "What? No! I swear I just got here."

"Do you ever use the front door?"

"Not if I can help it," he crawls in, staying planted by the window, "don't tell me you're snooping through Parker's things."

"I was just... looking. At the pictures. And Harry Osborn spilled his drink all over me so I had to borrow Parker's shirt."

"Hm. ESU looks good on you."

You look up at Peter, who keeps his hands tucked behind his back, leaning against the wall by the window. "Aren't you gonna say hi to the party? Make Parker look cool?"

"Eventually. Maybe. Might just watch from afar."

"No, nuh-uh. You said you had holiday plans and that you were going to a party. That doesn't count if you're watching from afar."

Peter's head sways to the side, "I never said this was the party I was going to."

"Is there another?"

"Well... maybe. Maybe not."

"Peter-" You whine, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not a party guy! Sue me."

"Well, then Parker's got you beat two for two. Unless you're lying, since I haven't given up on my conspiracy theory."

Peter presses himself off the wall, sauntering toward you in a zig-zag. Your eyes follow him, back and forth, back and forth, until he's a step or two away. His hand reaches out to play with one of your sleeves, its seams resewn with mismatched thread, "Leaving a party as Peter Parker to come back as Spider-Man. Give Parker some credit. That's the kind of plan you come up with in high school."

You shrug, trying not to act like Peter playing with your sleeve wasn't giving you goosebumps. "You never know."

Peter nods, "Yeah, you're right. I mean, he was really excited to see you."

"Oh yeah?" You swallow.

"Yeah. Was kind of pathetic, actually."

Peter shoots a web at the ceiling and twists, catching the web between his feet so he could hang upside down. The suddenness makes you stumble back with a breathless laugh, "That's not a very nice thing to say about a friend."

"Weren't you the one who said he'd be shaking and crying if you yelled at him?"

You sigh, "I was... I was teasing you."

"Because I'm Peter Parker."

He says it matter of fact. You stare at him, "Yeah," you whisper, "that's right."

He pulls himself up the web until he's face to face with you, "Then that wouldn't be very nice to say to a friend, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't. If you were Peter Parker, I guess I'd have to apologize to you."

"Yeah? How?"

You breathe deep. Everyone is still laughing downstairs. You become hyper-aware of the fact that you hadn't locked the door. At any moment, someone could walk in and...

Peter waits, curious.

Your fingers trace the lines of his jaw, pressing into the fabric of his mask, feeling over the ridges where black lines broke red. You know what you want to do. And you also know that there is no going back if you do it.

Your fingers reach the place where the mask meets the rest of his suit. Hooking two fingers under the fabric, you pull.

Your fingernails trace over the curve of his Adam's apple as it bobs, over the jut of his chin. Peter's breath is heaving. One of his hands releases its grip on the web and you see it glide toward yours out of the corner of your eye. You just feel the skin of his bottom lip under your finger when you realize how this might look. What he might think you're trying to do.

Mask in hand, questions of his identity hanging in the air, your curiosity and his vulnerability. You release the mask, awash with worry. You want to get it out before there's any misunderstanding, but as your hand drifts back to yourself, his catches it. You would give anything to know what he's thinking right now.

Peter lets your fingers fall. Silently, he drags the mask over the tip of his nose and leaves it resting there. An invitation. "I trust you." He promises. And kisses you.

He has to stretch a little to reach you. You understand this and press closer, taking the back of his head in your hands and holding it steady for you, but you know you're trembling. You curse yourself for how much your body reacts to this, how uncool you must look, how you shake with all the excitement and terror of this. You kiss him and feel silly about how you claimed to know his lips so well before now. That was nothing.

This is everything. So many things. Each time you go back in for more, you lock away some new little detail about him.

Peter places a hand against your neck and tugs you even closer, but the momentum makes him swing a little bit so his nose bumps your chin. You're too stiff to laugh, but he does, "Sorry," his voice is raspy, "this looked cooler in my head."

You lean into him, dizzied, "Was this... did you plan for me to kiss you? When you got up there?"

"I've wanted to kiss you plenty of ways." Peter's admission is followed by a sigh. He presses a hand to your chest and nudges you back a step before he's dropping to his feet and advancing upon you once more, bumping you against the dresser as the picture frames rattle. Your fingers sneak under his mask at the back of his head so they can sink into his silky hair.

He probably kisses you a hundred more times after that. Every kiss you think might be the last, but then you feel a tug in your chest and go in for one more. An itch that no scratch can soothe.

Peter's mask starts to slip and you feel one of his hands leave your waist to fix it, but the warmth your fingers had snuggled into disappears and-

You keep your eyes screwed shut, "Peter." You gasp against his mouth. Your fingers twitch in his hair, finding no resistance.

"It's okay," he nudges your nose with his, still pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, "it's okay."

"But-"

"Don't you wanna know if you were right?"

You squeak when his lips find the underside of your jaw, "I don't need- you don't need to-"

"You're always right," Peter interrupts you, kissing down your neck, "I was never fooling you. You're so smart, you know that?"

"Peter." You say his name with no real plans for it to do anything, letting your head fall back.

"Please." He says back. Urging.

You lift your head, heart hammering away, and meet the eyes of Peter Parker.

taglist: @yikes-buddy @alexxavicry @theclassicvinyldragon @marina-and-the-memes @bi-andready-tocry @thescarletfang @spider-biter @hufflepuff-n-fluff @daydreamdrive05 @mentalidrainedfangirl @gwennesy

#peter parker x reader #peter parker scenarios #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman scenarios #spiderman fic #spiderman fluff #tom holland peter parker #marvel #mjwrites #if you see any mistakes in this no u didn't #this has gone through a few revisions and uh. i'm sleeby #pp; small favor

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astarionbraiinrot · 1 month

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One for the Road

Having acquired himself a brood of many daughters, and with enough years passed since the last was born that he's certain they're done having any more, Astarion is content to be a very happy certified Girl Dad™ to his flock of lovely little feral princesses. Which he's over the moon about, because honestly, what would he even do with a boy? No, he’s quite satisfied with the pack of little gremlins he has, thanks very much, all braids and pink ribbons and lace trim, and he’s not interested in adding to it. He and Tav are living their best No More Babies life. They're consistently sleeping through the night without interruption, they can have a glass (or four) of wine whenever they want, and he can’t remember the last time he’s had to wipe an ass that wasn’t his own. No, their house is FULL and they are DONE. No new Ancunins, shop's closed.

She’s bright red herself, wailing with all the power her little lungs can muster. He still can’t see much of her from where he sits, not with Tav sagged back against him, finally able to rest. The Midwife says something he doesn’t catch as she gently wipes the babe off. He’s too busy whispering to Tav about how well she did to pay much attention to anything else right at this moment, but Tav isn’t, and she starts to giggle, quietly, just this side of audible. Odd, he thinks, but adrenaline’s a hell of a drug, so he doesn’t think about it too hard. His towel-wrapped (and still a little fluid-covered) daughter is gently placed on Tav’s chest as the Midwife busies herself with cutting the umbilical cord and delivering the afterbirth. The baby calms a bit as Tav gently coos to her and strokes her back, her cries tapering off into soft whimpers.

So of course, barely three days after finally clearing out and donating all of their various and sundry baby stuff, Tav informs him that there's going to be a last-minute addition to the family, very soon (school had just started back again, and the girls had spent the entire summer banding together to hide increasingly-inappropriate new "pets" in their rooms no matter how many times they got caught, so he supposes Tav can be forgiven for having mistaken the symptoms of yet another impending-dhampir as typical parenting exhaustion. He certainly had). It's the middle of the night when she tells him, and he spends at least an hour pacing the floor of their bedroom and summoning every scrap of memory from his law school days to argue that she must be mistaken, because their eldest just started COLLEGE and their youngest is TEN and they've already given away the crib and you can't have a baby if you don't have a crib because where would it even sleep? So obviously they can't be having another baby. Checkmate. He rests his case, Your Honor.

When his arguments to the contrary do not, in fact, render the impending child any less impending, and he’s had another hour to stomp around the backyard lecturing himself (quietly, so as not to wake the girls or the neighbors) that this is what happens when you drink two bottles of wine and an entire cow and can’t keep your stupid hands to yourself and convince Tav to throw caution to the wind because “it’ll be fine just this once, what’s the worst that could happen,” you idiot, he comes around to the idea. Because, sure, maybe they're starting all over with the diapers and the teething and the sleepless nights, but their other children are old enough to mostly mind themselves now, and the youngest had started asking for a baby sister as soon as she was old enough to figure out that her parents were where siblings came from.

Plus, if he's honest with himself, he may have - just a very teeny tiny bit - missed the feeling of holding a tiny infant curled up on his chest, burying his nose into their fluffy newborn hair to inhale the scent of their little scalp, listening to those soft snuffly noises they make as they fall asleep, his finger held in a ridiculously tiny hand only just barely big enough to wrap around it. Not enough to have another one on purpose, obviously, but if she's coming along anyway, then he supposes he might as well enjoy it all the same.

So he starts the same preparations for her that he did with all her sisters, sewing tiny frilly things as Tav knits yet another blanket and they bounce potential names off each other. Of course it's a girl, he says, when questioned on his name suggestions. With how many children they already have, there would have been a boy by now if there was going to be one. He scoffs each time Tav jokes over the next few tendays that this one feels different, and they could have a little combo-breaker on the horizon. No, not possible, he assures her, with an unearned confidence that he nonetheless felt was quite deserved. Their Standard Operation Protocol is that, once a baby is on the way, a little girl is born soon after. No deviations, and no reason to expect any now after all this time. Repeated experiments have produced the same result every time. They'll have another member for their infamous flock of Ancunin Daughters before the month is out.

When Tav tells him one evening just before their soon-to-be-second-youngest's bedtime that the little one's announced her debut via a puddle on the kitchen floor, there is no panic, no rush, no mad dash to ready everything. They've been through this far too many times for that. He takes a moment to be grateful that at least this one had waited until the sun was down to kick things off. Most of her sisters had not been nearly so courteous, choosing instead to have their first act be one of defiance against their poor stressed out father by beginning their journey into life in the middle of the day.

He bundles the girls off to the neighbors' house for the night, leaving them with a quick kiss on the head each and a promise that he'll send a Message as soon as their new sister has arrived, before making his way to fetch the Midwife. He vaguely wonders if she's even necessary, considering they have enough offspring that he's got the whole process all but memorized and is fairly certain he and Tav could deliver the child themselves at this point (and had done, once. Baby number five had been VERY eager to make her way into the world, with such a swift entry that she'd nearly been born on the living room floor. He'd had no time to even grab a towel and was forced to catch her with his bare hands. She'd ruined his shirt, and the rug, and nearly scared the unlife out of him on top of it. He'd been very calm throughout the entire event, though, a paragon of unflappable stability, patiently waiting until the babe was born, cleaned, and moved upstairs to the bedroom where she snuggled peacefully in her sleeping mother's arms, before politely stepping out the bedroom door and proceeding to have the quietest panic of his entire existence).

When he arrives back home with the Midwife, he doesn’t bother to direct her to the bedroom. She knows where it is, this isn’t her first rodeo with an Ancunin birth either. Water is boiled, clean towels are at hand, their nice bedding has been replaced with plain serviceable sheets, a layer of newspaper underneath to protect the mattress, a tiny outfit and knitted blanket sit ready nearby. Check, check, check. He completes each step with pure muscle memory and no prompting, all routine, everything exactly as expected.

The next nine hours are spent keeping Tav as comfortable as possible. Rubbing her back, walking circles around the house, stopping at each contraction to gently sway and do the breathing exercises that they'd learned so long ago the first time they did this. Normally, she'd catch what sleep she could in between contractions in these early stages, but this one is determined to allow her mother no rest. He really hopes that's not an indication of what the little one’s sleep schedule will look like once she's here.

They near the end of this whole ordeal with the first light of morning. He's sat behind Tav, holding her up, as she grits her teeth through near back-to-back contractions and shakes with the effort of bringing this last child into the world. She's exhausted, grumpily hissing between pushes that of course his child would be fucking nocturnal and think the asscrack of dawn was a splendid time to be born. He considers reminding her that most of their children had been born during the day, so he really didn’t think the timing of this one could be blamed on him, but any response he might have had is cut off with the next push, when he feels his knuckle bones grind together as she once again resumes her efforts to reduce them to powder. It's probably for the best that he keep that comment to himself right now, anyway, he thinks.

One more big push to get the head out. It's barely visible from his position, head leaning over Tav's shoulder, but he can see that she definitely has the same full head of hair all her sisters did, and maybe his hair color as well, though it's hard to really tell through the blood and fluids plastering it all to her scalp. Could be red for all he knows. He mutters something about not being able to see her hair through the blood, and Tav gives him a sly sideways glance and starts to crack a joke, something about him not having eaten since yesterday, he thinks, before she’s interrupted by a loud, pained, groan and the need to push again.

A few more hard, steady pushes, guided by the Midwife, for the shoulders this time. This is always the hardest part, he remembers, the final hurdle. He whispers gentle encouragement into Tav's ear as, timed with her pushes, the Midwife carefully guides first one shoulder, then the other, out into the world. Poor Tav is bright red from the exertion, covered in sweat and panting. He places a cool hand on her forehead and she leans into his palm as, with a scream and one last push, the babe is finally brought into the world.

Oh.

Able to get a closer look at her now, he can see this one bears more than just a passing resemblance to her father. Frankly, she looks exactly like him, albeit smaller, wrinklier, and with fewer teeth (for now). Pale, even for a newborn, with tiny, finely-pointed ears, and a head of unruly white curls. When she finally opens her eyes, leveling her parents with an annoyed glare that could have come right off his own face (or so he’s been told), he sees his own gaze reflected back at him in pale green, the color they’d learned with the birth of their second daughter that his eyes used to be. He feels a little bad, honestly. Tav did all the hard work, and yet here their daughter is, their last baby, him in miniature. Not bad enough to keep him from preening a bit when he mentions how beautiful she is, though.

Tav is still giggling. Quietly, but noticeably louder now than before his comment.

He raises an eyebrow at her and asks just what is so funny, and her giggling increases to laughter.

You, she says, in between fits of giggles. She asks if he had been paying attention to anything the Midwife had said, and the confused look on his face only serves to make her laugh harder. He waits while she tries to contain herself, releasing a very put upon sigh when, a few minutes later, she’s still laughing at whatever this joke at his expense is.

Finally, she takes a deep breath, holding in her laughter, eyes still sparkling with mirth, and slowly unwraps their daughter. He is, once again, confused, and the baby’s none too happy either, starting to fuss with the sudden loss of warmth. Before he can say anything, Tav shifts and places the now bared and still slightly-slimy infant in his arms, advising him to get acquainted with their newest little one. He wrinkles his nose at the goo rubbing off onto his sleeves, some sarcastic remark ready on his tongue, reaching out with one hand to take the towel from Tav as he looks down to begin settling his daughter, and-

Well.

That explains why Tav was laughing at him, at least.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he thinks that he probably should have caught that a lot sooner. It’s almost embarrassing really, considering his various skillsets, he’s usually pretty good at noticing little details. He doesn’t really have the brainpower to ponder that too long though, because the rest of his mind is still trying to reconcile this shift in information.

The best he’s able to come up with is dazedly asking Tav how that had happened, which just induces her into another fit of tired giggles as she presses a gentle kiss to his lips, and another to the top of their son’s fuzzy head.

He smiles and thinks that the girls will be delighted at this change of protocol.

#astarion x tav #astarion/tav #dadstarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate 3 astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #One for the Road #This is literally my first time ever posting fic pls be gentle lol #and if you see any mistakes no you didn't #this started out as a reply to a request for dadstarion headcanons and now it's over 2k words help #started out with a kiss how did it end up like this etc #Also considered calling it either Going Out of Business or Fire Sale re: the ''shop's closed'' line #2k+

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sanjarka · 3 months

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i'm gonna start being mean. if you have enough understanding for katniss's depression then how are you calling katniss's mom selfish for her response to her husband's death. you do understand what catatonic depression is right? you understand that she didn't purposely abandon her children?

#i would also argue that she didn't even abandon katniss after prim's death but was actually protecting her #sometimes it seems like some people genuinely feel like she didn't love katniss as much as prim which is so...#she was afraid and she knew that if she were to return to 12 everything would repeat again #and yes as a mother she should take care of her daughter but she's also just a woman #how can two sick people take care of each other like literally how???#and maybe she should've tried harder and not focused on the fear BUT I AM REPEATING DEPRESSION IS NOT SOMETHING YOU JUST CHOOSE TO HAVE #the only thing she's certain of is that the possibility of disappointing and hurting katniss is to high to risk it #and there are things to criticize her for surely but i just don't see any of her mistakes being a result of not caring for katniss #or not loving her #that's not it #I WILL PROTECT THIS WOMAN UNTILL THE END OF TIME #thg #everlark

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beanghostprincess · 5 months

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How would you rank each strawhat based on morality? Of cours they are all good people, but some are certainly more and others slightly less

I mean... I don't think morality is something we can make rankings of because it varies depending on your philosophy and a good person isn't always the one following the conventional, Kantian rules of morality. But I know where you're coming from. I guess I can just base it on my own understanding of what morality is, which basically follows the whole "an action is good when the outcome affects positively the majority of people/makes somebody external to you feel good/doesn't harm anybody external" (aka selflessness and altruism) and "an action doesn't have to be necessarily good and you can still be a good person because your initial intentions were good, even if the outcome wasn't the one you expected". So, basically, this ranking is based on altruism, selflessness, and the way their actions affect others and what are their views on society/how they behave with others. I also have in mind why they do the things they do and if their positive actions are done out of selfishness or pure altruism.

1- Chopper

Isn't it obvious? His whole character is literally about helping others. He's a caretaker who looks out for everybody and the common well-being and happiness. He has a strong sense of morality that's based on other people's joy and freedom, and he fights for the rights of every human being despite their background. He doesn't care about whether you're evil or not when it comes to your life, always saving the ones who need saving. His vision of the world is pretty simple, honestly. Besides, kindness is often related to naivete and he's well-known for that too. He treats people with respect, and kindness, often mimics others to fit in, and the only times he harms people is to fight for what he thinks is right (which is pretty often related to basic human rights being violated in a medical sense). Being a doctor doesn't make you morally good, but being this type of doctor specifically definitely does. He'd pretty much sacrifice himself if it meant helping others, using himself as a tester for various antidotes. He's by far the nicest straw hat. He's both selfless and altruistic and he even has his own set of morals that involve protecting humanity's basic rights when it comes to living. Wanting to cure every illness and make a world in which nobody can die before their time is basically his whole character.

2- Brook

What sets Chopper and Brook apart from the other Straw Hats is that they are pretty active in their altruism and try to do good for people unrelated to them. His whole thing is quite literally making others laugh from happiness. He's a musician. His whole life before joining the Straw Hats was to be in a crew full of artists who lived to make others happy with music. That's the most selfless passion ever. His cheerful and jokester personality is pretty much meant to cope in a funnier way to make others laugh and save them from being worried about him. He keeps wanting others to be comfortable and together as a family, he enjoys unity from spending so much time alone but it doesn't come from a place of selfishness, because he keeps wanting others to enjoy their time together. He might need/want company, but the way he asks for it is in a very polite way and he never wants to bother other people. His whole character is literally focused on wanting to go see Laboon and make him know he's alive. He could've tried to k word himself in the years he spent alone, but he didn't because somebody else was waiting for him. He might be a pervert but he asks for consent, having in mind what women want and he doesn't push things further if they don't want to. Brook is the definition of a very jokester gentleman with knowledge for consent and a very selfless attitude towards life, valuing others' needs before his own. Although he doesn't hesitate to cut people in half, he only does this to his enemies and, y'know, pirate life. And often it's either needed or they don't even end up dead, so... The reason he fights is to always keep others safe, rather than worrying about his own life (even though he's already dead yohoho!). I think he's one of the characters, along with Chopper and Robin, that value life the most and that's what makes them so good at protecting others.

3- Jinbe

The reason why Jinbe is third is because his sense of morality varies from Brook and Chopper's more empathetic and nondiscriminatory way of protecting people. Jinbe tends to follow logic within morality instead of instant emotions and I personally value more people who extend their empathy to everyone without a second thought than genuinely thinking about it first before acting. He has his own set of morals and what he considers to be right or wrong. He thinks first before doing anything and considers the outcome of whether saving somebody is plausible or not in the situation. That doesn't make him selfish, but just a logical person. What sets the difference between the other two and him is that Jinbe won't help everyone and Chopper/Brook will not hesitate to do so. Jinbe's caring side is mostly shown to be to his loved ones and he doesn't generally extend that behavior to people outside of his circle. He literally refused to look after Luffy because he didn't know the guy, even if he was Ace's friend. He acknowledges he can't help everyone and just takes care of his people. And when he does that, he does it in the most selfless and self-sacrificing of ways! He would die for his loved ones without hesitating and his whole character arc is about Jinbe deserving a break from looking after everyone instead of enjoying his own life. They quite literally have to force him to follow what he truly wants and yet he still goes back to help his people before joining the Straw Hats. So the reason why Jinbe is third is because he's just like Chopper and Brook, except that he acknowledges the reality of the world and uses a more logical approach, being more personal when it comes to taking care of people. Also, he wants to keep peace around the world and the way he approaches people is in a very respectful manner and tries to keep conflicts at bay, which is directly looking out for common ground and pacifism. I almost forgot to mention his whole deal with the liberation of slaves, and that's obviously something that makes him an even greater person. He fights for a cause, against the unfairness of the world. He makes the world a better place.

4- Robin

I've had a hard time trying to think about whether she should go before or after Jinbe, but after some time debating it, I think this is the right place for her. Her whole character is basically all about learning how to live and love because she never had the chance to do so after so many years of suffering on her own. Her concept of helping others might be more altruistic than Jinbe's because I view her as somebody who would follow Chopper/Brook's standards and help everybody in need, instead of only keeping her protectiveness to her morality and circle. However, even if she's more altruistic and empathetic with outsiders, her view of socializing is more cynical than Jinbe's. She chooses a more abrupt way of fighting for what's right and instead of looking out for common peace and ground, she doesn't mind cracking a few necks and spines. She has fun with chaos and dark imagery, unlike Jinbe, who's a very caring man. And she is caring too! The sweetest! But Jinbe worries more about what could happen while Robin is still learning how to have fun and just vibes. She has this bit of selfishness and enjoyment for chaos and having a good time that Jinbe doesn't have because he's calmer than her. She's calm but she enjoys the fun drama, and Jinbe cares about his surroundings' well-being more. The way she treats enemies is crueler because Jinbe is polite while she doesn't care about cracking a few necks. Even if she's more empathetic towards strangers, looking out for the general peace is conventionally better for society than cracking people's necks, so, yeah. And she's a revolutionary and their views might follow a set of morals about freedom, but the way they deal with social issues is very arbitrary. Basically, she's a sweetie but she has a bit of a dark side.

5- Usopp

He's the sweetest guy of all time and normally wouldn't hurt a fly and he goes all the way to make everybody feel comfortable and have a sense of unity. However, the main difference between Usopp and the others (this is where the ranking kind of starts being more and more different in terms of complex morality) is that he's selfish out of fear and self-defense. A thing that is completely natural and proof that thinking about himself and his loved ones first doesn't make him a bad person, just careful and human. Selfishness is often seen as something bad and against the benefits of society as a whole, and it might be, but it doesn't make him a bad person (that again, I don't think we're able to judge this either). The cool thing about Usopp is that he's a growing character. He keeps learning more about himself every day and, even if he's a "coward", the bravest thing somebody can do is fight against fear. Especially when it comes to insecurities and when you're probably about to die. He isn't altruistic in the sense of risking his life for a stranger (unless he feels guilty about it or has the need to do so) but he is the kindest in the sense of embracing friendship and support. He brings domesticity and comfort to quite literally everybody he encounters. He's easy to befriend and to talk to. His whole thing about lying comes from trying to cheer up his mom about his dad leaving them, c'mon, even if he was suffering because of her illness. He fights for the ones he loves even if he's scared, and when he refuses to fight is when he doesn't know the people that much and, to be honest, fair. Nobody should be forced to sacrifice themselves for people they don't care about and I personally don't think that can talk about morality. Besides, the way he jokes around and does his little shenanigans with Luffy not really caring about the chaos around (besides when, y'know, personal safety) only makes everything I said more obvious.

6- Sanji

Sanji is a very... Complex character. The duality of men, basically. When he's kind he's at his best and when he's creepy he's at his worst but then he also has this view on how much people's lives matter depending on what he personally thinks. He's very emotion/trauma-driven, so perhaps that's why it's really hard to tell whether he follows a conventional morality or his own. His whole character arc is about him realizing that he's kind, empathetic, self-sacrificing, and everything the Vinsmokes aren't. But he also has a calculative and cold side that shows up when he doesn't give a single fuck about the people he's talking to. Basically, Sanji can be both the nicest and the meanest guy in the world depending on what he thinks of you, but he'll never let you starve due to his own morals of "nobody should die of hunger". Like he might beat the shit out of you but he's making you a damn risotto before the fight. Sanji is a very kind soul and he looks out for others and always puts them first, but his morality is pretty much focused on his past experiences. He also has these preferences for women, which are not morally correct (if you view this term as equality) because, unlike the other characters, he doesn't view their lives in the same way. However, that doesn't mean he hates men, he just puts women on a pedestal. He will put others first no matter what but if he doesn't care about you he won't give a single fuck. He literally was about to leave those kids in Punk Hazard and only helped because Nami said so. When he has to help somebody he cares about, though (or anybody, really) he always ends up self-sacrificing for the greater good. But it's not really coming from a place of "this is a good thing to do" but from a "their lives are more important than mine and I like to feel needed". Even if I do think he also does this out of empathy and love, both things coexist. He tries really hard to please others. He finds joy in feeling needed but also in making others happy, so it really is a mix of trauma and genuine kindness. He's quite literally the whole "doing good things because it feels good but also because it helps people, and helping people makes me feel good" but I don't think he does it in a selfish way, because he doesn't even realize he's doing it to feel better in the first place. He just doesn't value his life the way he should. So, TL;DR: Sanji's a selfless character when it comes to the people he loves and when his morals are at hand (huge difference between the other characters, who help people without having in mind those things), but if he doesn't care, he genuinely doesn't care. His self-sacrifice might come from a place of wanting to feel needed, and that could be seen as selfish, but I don't think he actively thinks about it. He just acts. The reason why he's number 6 despite being one of the kindest characters is because he canonically has preferences and uses his own morals to decide what to do instead of valuing everyone's lives equally. Besides, his whole thing being creepy with women (even if it's just a running gag) makes him less likable. But this is post-ts Sanji's fault mostly.

7- Franky

He's a family man. He puts his family and the people he loves first. He has his priorities and follows his morals about masculinity and that's it. Great pal that cares deeply about his loved ones and would beat the shit out of somebody if that person were to hurt him/them/his ideals. The reason why he's number seven despite seemingly being so nice at first, is pretty much because of his background. The whole Franky family? Beating up Usopp? Stealing the money? He was into very dark stuff, man. Mafia type of shit. That doesn't mean he's a bad person but his morals are pretty questionable, and they basically follow the "Protect family, protect home, protect ideals, befriend cool people, beat up people I don't like". He's very... American. I mean. He is technically canonically American and it makes a lot of sense if you think about it. He befriends people quickly but he can despise them just as quick too. Once again repeating the whole "only looks out for the people he likes or for his morals/what he loves" but if he isn't interested in something he'll just... Don't do it. But, yeah, he might be pretty empathetic because he resonates with all the sad stories he hears and doesn't hesitate to save people, but as I said, it's not really an "I save people because all people deserve to be saved" and it's more of an "I like this person so I'm gonna save them" which is exactly what happened with Usopp back at Water 7/Enies Lobby. I must say he's also kind, helpful, and energetic and loves to spread fun around the ship to make people happy. Seeing the ones he loves full of joy makes him complete, and that comes only from love. But he doesn't spread that love the way the characters before him would, you know? The reason why he's here is both because of his past and his behavior toward helping others which is basically about turning them into friends right away (which, you know, is exactly what Luffy does too).

8- Nami

She's a bitch. In the best of ways. But she's still a bitch. I'm always the first one to say she's one of the kindest characters. Her heart is just so, so big and she treats people in need with so much love it's obvious she has motherly traits and just loves to take care of people. However, the girl is greedy. She's greedy. Selfish. A liar. A thief. A bitch. A flirt. A queen, basically. To me, she's the best of the best and she would go on top if we were talking about best characters, but here we are judging based on morality and... She's just that. A bitch. With a very warm heart that just freezes the second she gives no fucks about you. You know, she's not evil, she just uses people to her advantage because (especially back at the start. Arlong Park things) she isn't used to trusting people. She has really obvious trust issues and she pretty much only loves a few specific people in her life. She would do anything for them. And yet, even when she loves somebody, she's still a manipulative menace. Morally speaking she's fucked up because she looks only for herself and the ones she cares about, and when she needs to run to save her ass, she does it. She doesn't leave anybody behind if she knows it's gonna be THE end, but if the one who's with her is only gonna end up hurt and not dead (usually Usopp. RIP Usopp) she's running for her life. Also, she's shameless and uses the strength of the Monster Trio to her advantage and I absolutely love it. She's the brains, let the others protect her fr. She knows she can fight, she's just scared af of dying and I find her so real for that. She likes teasing people and wrapping them around her finger to get what she wants! She doesn't care about anybody except for her crew because why would she? They're pirates! And she only does it when it's either about kids (she has a huge, soft, warm spot for them) or somebody she grows fond of. So, she's a sweetheart and a very caring girl to the ones she loves (or she's the meanest too, as a sign of true tough love) but she gives in between -10 and 0 fucks about others and will steal from them, no hesitation needed. She breaks so many morality norms within society that she makes the perfect pirate. Honestly, it looks like she's the only one in the crew interested in the part of being a pirate that's about stealing and treasures. I love her so damn much...

9- Luffy

A lot of people are going to disagree with me on this one, but this is the one part of the ranking I'm 100% sure about. And it's not even hard to explain: Luffy is selfish. He's a very selfish pirate. But he's empathetic, kind, and really easy to befriend if you manage him to like you. He also sees the good in people. But he isn't altruistic. He only helps people he chooses to help because he either likes them or finds them interesting enough or perhaps he owes them one or whatever. He loves people in such a huge way that, if he likes you, he'll do anything for you. Anything. But he only helps people he considers his friends/acquaintances without wanting to be seen as the hero of the story because he's literally just helping a friend out. If he doesn't care about somebody, he will just ignore them. Or be straight-up mean to them. He has no filter and if he hates somebody, he does it explicitly and without any remorse about it. He might be extremely empathetic and sacrifice his well-being but only when it comes to the people he cares about. Otherwise, he'll just groan in pain and boredom. On the other hand, Luffy is also Chaotic Good (haha me too!), and he has his own morals. They consist of freedom and liberty. He will help to free a whole village. Or prisoners. Slaves. Even if they aren't his friends. But only because all of his ideals are about freedom and choosing how to live your own life. It just bothers him personally. And it's not even "I'm helping these people be freed because they deserve it" it's more of a "The concept of cutting somebody's wings makes me so fucking furious I'm gonna make this everybody's problem. I don't care what these people do after this adventure, but they should be able to have the freedom to choose". So, yeah, basically Luffy follows his ideals of "I do whatever the fuck I want" and "Don't hurt my friends. Don't go against freedom. Or I'll beat you up". He's very stubborn, too. Chaotic. He doesn't think about how his decisions will affect others. He's a very independent person when it comes to decision making but he's also very needy in the sense of needing people around him to feel safe because he is, after all, an extrovert who loves his friends/family to death. Luffy is selfish because he does whatever he wants, even if he's empathetic, kind, and understanding. Those concepts can coexist perfectly.

10- Zoro

I don't think I need to explain this much, honestly? He's very introverted and doesn't let people in easily, so he just doesn't care about people who aren't in his circle. He fights for his loved ones to death and holds the people he loves close to his heart, to the point of doing anything for them. But... But his morals are basically shit outside of that. He used to kill pirates for bounties without any hesitation. He still pretty much murders the people they fight against without any remorse. And, y'know, they're pirates so I'm not judging here. He's selfish in the sense of being a very protective person with his things and his personal space, and he can come off as rude to outsiders because, well, he is genuinely rude to them because he genuinely doesn't care about them. Unless he befriends somebody, strangers to him are just strangers and he couldn't give less of a fuck about them and their tragedies UNLESS they're going through something that goes against his own/or a nakama's morals. I personally think he's a sweetheart, but if we're following moral codes about the well-being of society as a whole and how much positive impact somebody does? He's, like, the last one to choose from the crew. He cares about Kuina, his swords, Luffy, and his Nakama. Perhaps he befriends somebody along the way but it always feels more like just respect and not really a friendship. Not saying Zoro is a bad person for his introverted personality and cynical behavior, I just think he's very intimate with his circle and will only do what he thinks necessary instead of focusing on selflessness and altruism as a society. He's pretty strict about the pirate code and he follows those rules solemnly, so he does have a type of morality, but he doesn't focus on society's well-being. He doesn't mind causing chaos if he gets what he wants. He's just chilling. Passing by. I honestly think Nami/Zoro is a great friendship because they're both little shameless bitches. TL;DR: Zoro loves crew only. Fuck other people. Might respect acquaintances. Strong pirate/swordsman moral code. But he isn't an altruistic/society/people person.

#i spent the whole day writing this lmfao #okay so there are some things i would've liked to write better and expand more and also word in a better way but i didn't have the time #it's a pretty messy post so i'm sorry i couldn't do something better!!!#i understand if you think differently btw this is just my honest opinion and i see why it could be very recherché #btw i didn't reread all of this so if there are any mistakes just ignore them #one piece #straw hat pirates #tony tony chopper #soul king brook #jinbe #nico robin #usopp #black leg sanji #franky #nami #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro

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ftmsteveraglan · 3 months

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big daddy (trans bear william afton x amab reader)

this one goes out to all the trans william enjoyers! i've been in desperate need of both big bear william and trans william, so here i am doing both. also, before anyone says anything, i know matthew lillard is on the skinnier end. this particular version is inspired by the fantastic fanart by keikoyume (not tagging her just in case she's not a fan of that!) because holy FUCK i'm feral for her rendition of him.

contains: dom william, trans bear william, sub reader, seriously the reader is submissive as shit, cunnilingus, under the desk shenanigans, daddy kink, praise kink, size difference, getting caught masturbating

you didn't know what you were getting into when you walked into the office.

it wasn't like you had anywhere else to go. your luck with your last job had run out after you'd cursed out your manager for scheduling you on a day you'd specifically asked to take off for a doctor's appointment. now, desperate with nowhere else to turn to, you'd decided to come to the job counseling office, hoping you'd find a solution.

the secretary called your number, and you jumped up to follow her into the back office. you weren't quite sure what to expect when you got there.

you didn't anticipate the man sitting before you.

even as you entered the room, you could feel his presence dominating the area. sitting before him, he loomed over you, even though he was sitting back in his chair. he had to be at least six feet tall, if not taller. he'd combed back his hair, dark brown and graying at the temples, in an attempt to look professional, but a dark part of you wanted to see how it would look unkempt and messy. he looked like he hadn't shaved in while, with a scruffy, salt and pepper beard on his chin.

no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't ignore was just how big everything about him was. broad shoulders, muscular arms, meaty hands, sizeable paunch; it was like every part of him was built to be domineering. you couldn't help but love just how much bigger he was than you, how strong he looked before you.

the nametag on his desk read "STEVE RAGLAN".

mr. raglan read through the papers in your file, humming as he flicked through the pages. he tsked, shaking his head, and said your name a few times, rolling it on his tongue. piercing eyes gazed through aviator glasses, over the pages, and straight through your soul with a look only a disappointed dad could make.

"care to explain what happened with your last job?" he asked, leaning back in the chair. you swallowed, trying to compose yourself, before talking.

"i cursed out my old manager," you said bluntly. "he scheduled me on a day i'd told him in advance that i needed off for a doctor's appointment. he wouldn't take no for an answer, so i swore at him and walked out."

mr. raglan hummed as he looked down at you over the file. "your previous jobs all have good things to say about you," he said, "but you haven't lasted at them for very long. what's that about?"

"i've been moving," you explained. "i've only now just settled down. i'm looking for something i can do to save up money so i can go back to college."

mr. raglan stayed quiet as he leafed through your file. he looked like he was about to say something, but stopped and raked his gaze over you. you tried not to squirm as his eyes moved down your body. you couldn't tell if he was checking you out or scrutinizing you.

"i might have a job for you," he said, setting your file on the desk. you perked up at the mention of a job, watching him as he got up from his desk and moved to the coffee machine at the back of the office. "want some?" he asked as he poured himself a mug.

"sure, thank you," you said with a nod. mr. raglan poured a second mug, and you took the opportunity to ogle him from where you sat. your eyes were drawn to his thick thighs, and you wondered just how big everything else of his was.

"normally, i'd try to find you a job somewhere else, at a place that fits your qualifications," mr. raglan said as he set your coffee before you. he sat back down in his chair, took a sip, and said, "but i've actually been looking for someone to fill a position around here."

curious, you drank your coffee and listened as he continued. "i'm looking for a personal assistant." with a nonchalant shrug, he explained, "it's nothing complicated, just keeping track of scheduling, sorting paperwork, things like that. pay's alright, $12 an hour." he sighed and said, "but, if you want, i can try to find you something more your speed-"

"i'll take it," you blurted out. mr. raglan looked down at you, one eyebrow raised. his expression looked more intrigued than anything.

"that was quick," he said with an amused smile. "you sure?"

"i'm sure," you nodded. such a job was perfect, both because the pay would be enough for rent with extra to spare and because you'd be able to hang around this mountain of a man just about every day. "when do i start?"

mr. raglan took another drink and sat his mug down on the table, resting his hands on his belly. "how does monday sound?"

you could feel yourself smiling as hopefulness set in. "monday sounds perfect."

that was where your relationship with mr. raglan had started. it started off strictly professional for the first few weeks. he'd shown you the ropes, and before long, you were handling his scheduling with ease. he eased you into further duties, nothing more than you could handle. it was simple busy work, and eventually, you'd established a routine which allowed you to get things done with time left to spare.

at first, mr. raglan was cordial towards you, letting you have your space as you did your job and elaborating on anything you didn't fully understand. however, over time, you swore that his attitude towards you was shifting. maybe his opinion of you had changed. maybe he'd always felt this way towards you, and his mask was slipping. either way, he started behaving differently whenever you were around. sometimes, when putting paperwork in the filing cabinets, you'd feel eyes on you, and when turning around, you'd find him shamelessly watching you, a dark look in his eye. it wasn't anything malicious or angry; it was more akin to a hungry wolf eager to pounce on an unsuspecting rabbit.

it wasn't like you were entirely innocent, either. but then again, who could blame you? mr. raglan was the effortless sort of handsome, the kind where he could simply roll out of bed and still be attractive. you couldn't help but sneak a few glances at him when he wasn't looking, though you were sure he'd caught you on more than one occasion. thankfully, he didn't ever mention it.

the tension between you two hung in the air for a while, the both of you refusing to mention it, until one day when you had to come in early. sundays were usually the day you deep cleaned his office, so you preferred to start the work day an hour earlier. you found it curious that mr. raglan's car was in the parking lot, but you brushed it off. maybe he wanted to get work done earlier, too.

it wasn't until you reached the door to his office that you realized something was up. you didn't know if your ears were deceiving you at first, but you could've sworn you could hear mr. raglan making noise on the other side of the door. the door was too thick for you to fully make out what it was. maybe he was just moving a few things around?

you should've expected what you saw on the other side, but you didn't know how to react when you opened the door to see your boss sitting in his chair with one hand down his boxers, groaning softly, a blissed out look on his face.

startled, you nearly stumbled over yourself trying to back away, closing the door, but mr. raglan had already noticed you there. rather than lashing out, however, he opened his eyes halfway and lazily turned his head over to look at you. his eyes had grown dark with lust, his cheeks flushed with color. as alluring as he looked like this, the last thing you wanted was to get fired because you walked in on your boss jerking off.

"i-i am so sorry, sir," you quickly said as your eye met his. "i'll just-"

to your surprise, mr. raglan didn't seem upset. he just chuckled, shook his head, and said, "no, no, no, come on in, sit down."

unsure of what else to do, you stepped into his office and shut the door behind you. you started moving to one of the filing cabinets, hoping to get started on work, but mr. raglan spoke up, "you don't need to worry about that right now. sit down."

swallowing your nervousness did nothing to quell the simmering in the pit of your stomach as you took your seat in front of him. his soft groaning and the sound of wet squelching from beneath the desk sounded incredibly loud in the morning quiet.

"normally," mr. raglan said, "i take care of this before you come in for your shift." he laughed and said, "i guess i got a little carried away."

you weren't sure how to respond yet. as hot as you found it to walk in on your boss getting off, you didn't want to overstep any boundaries, so you said, "i can just go if you wanna... you know... finish that up."

now, mr. raglan met your eye, and his face filled with that same dark, hungry look he'd been giving you for the past weeks.

"actually," he said, "i could use a little help right about now."

your eyes widened, unable to believe what you were hearing as he said, "don't think that i haven't noticed. i saw the way you were looking at me when we first met, the little looks you've been sneaking. you're not as subtle as you think, sweetheart." the last word dripped from his lips like a snake's venom. "don't act like you don't want this as much as i do."

you weren't about to lie to yourself. rather than try to formulate some excuse, you instead asked, "what do you mean?"

mr. raglan laughed and raised an eyebrow. "i offered you this job for a reason," he said. "i mean, i've been hunting for someone to fill this position, but i couldn't just pass you up."

you couldn't decide if you were more embarrassed or turned on at the realization. either way, you weren't about to let this opportunity slide. "you said you needed help, sir?"

a wolfish grin spread across mr. raglan's face. "just need some help finishing what i started," he said, pushing his rolling chair back from the desk a bit. peering over the desk, you could see that his pants were down below his knees, and a large wet patch had spread over his boxers. he motioned you to come to him, and you nearly tripped over yourself moving around behind the desk with him.

"there we go," mr. raglan cooed. "that's a good boy..."

mr. raglan calling you a good boy in that scratchy voice of his made your stomach do flip flops. he seemed to notice how flustered you were, because he chuckled as he finally pulled down his boxers.

"right down here, that's it," mr. raglan said, spreading his legs apart. you quickly got down on your knees between mr. raglan's legs. you were a little surprised to find that he had a soaking wet pussy rather than a cock, but you weren't put off by it. it just meant changing tactics.

cautiously, you slipped one finger into his folds, then two, pumping them in and out. mr. raglan let out a satisfied sigh above you, relaxing in his chair as you experimentally played with his hole. you moved your other hand up and circled his tdick with your thumb, which made mr. raglan groan and grip onto the arms of his chair. you could feel him getting wetter and wetter under your touch, which filled you with an odd sense of pride.

"does that feel good, sir?" you asked him.

"you don't have to call me sir, baby," mr. raglan chuckled. "no need to be so formal."

an embarrassing idea flashed through your mind, but you figured you had nothing to lose in your position. "can i eat you out? please?"

mr. raglan let out something between a huff and a laugh as he nodded. "go ahead, baby. i'm all yours."

you quickly moved your hands to grip his thighs and dove in, running your tongue up his slit. mr. raglan let out a low, throaty groan and let his head fall back. his breath came in huffs as you lapped at his slit, eager to taste him. you could feel his thighs tensing beneath your grip, hear the squeaking of leather as his fingers dug into his armrest even tighter.

"fuck, you taste so good, daddy," you whimpered as you ate him out. mr. raglan tilted his head down, and for a moment, you wondered if you'd accidentally offended him or said something dumb.

but then, mr. raglan chuckled, something dark and hungry, and moved one hand to sink his fingers into your hair, almost petting you like an obedient dog.

"that's it, sweet boy," he purred, gently scratching your scalp. "eat daddy's pussy for me, that's a good boy..."

his praise only made you even more eager as you went from simply drinking up his slick to tonguefucking him, trying to reach your tongue as deeply as possible into his hole. mr. raglan started to eagerly buck his hips into your mouth. you could just tell that he was getting close. eager to make him cum, you moved your mouth from his hole to his tdick, wrapping your lips around it and sucking hard, making mr. raglan gasp sharply. he swore and cursed under his breath as you ran your tongue along his cock, muttering, "fuck, baby, i'm so close..."

your jaw was starting to ache from working at mr. raglan's pussy, but you didn't care. you wanted to see this much bigger man fall apart on your lips. you moved one hand from his thigh to his hole, eagerly fingering him in time with sucking on his clit. that seemed to do him in, and mr. raglan tugged your hair to bring your face deeper into his pussy as he came, clenching his big thighs around your head.

for a moment, you couldn't breathe, suffocated by his pussy. eventually, his thighs fell away from your head, leaving you free to lift your head and breathe again. you could hear mr. raglan chuckling as he moved his hand from your scalp to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

"you did such a good job, baby," he cooed, running his thumb along your cheek. his chuckle grew to a laugh as he said, "you really made a mess of me, didn't you?"

he moved his hand to pat his thigh, motioning for you to climb up. you swiftly got up and straddled his thigh, and mr. raglan leaned in to kiss you, moaning as he tasted himself on your lips.

"looks like you enjoyed this as much as i did," he murmured, bringing his hand down to your crotch to palm your half hard cock through your pants. embarrassed, you turned your head away, but mr. raglan laughed and said, "it's alright, baby. i think it's adorable."

he wrapped one strong arm around you and pulled you in for a half hug. you leaned into the hug, laying against him, resting one hand on his belly as you regained your composure.

"you know," he said, his voice low and husky, "if you help me clean this up, and if you do a good job the rest of your shift, we can keep this going once our shifts are over."

your eyes widened as you looked back to him and stammered, "a-are you sure?"

there was that look in mr. raglan's eyes again, that dark, possessive look, a look that said you'd just walked right into his trap.

"why not, baby?" he asked. "it'll just be the two of us once everyone else goes home."

as much as you knew that a romance with your boss probably wasn't the best idea, there was no way in hell you would turn this down. "god, yes. thank you, sir."

mr. raglan smirked and raised an eyebrow. "i told you, you don't have to call me sir."

your cheeks flushed pink as you realized your mistake. "thank you, daddy."

mr. raglan grinned and gently kissed your cheek, his beard scratching against your skin. "good boy."

#MAN this thing was self indulgent as shit #lmk if you want me to write the follow up where you fuck him senseless #no beta so if you see any mistakes no you didn't #william afton #steve raglan #steve raglan x reader #william afton x you #william afton x reader smut #william afton x reader #fanfiction #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #matthew lillard #ftmsr

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chaos-bringer-13 · 15 days

Text

Jazz's little. Her parents are super cool. They're ghost hunters! It sounds like something from a movie about future and scientists and supernatural beings and cool-looking tech. They have cool-looking tech at home. It's even cooler than tech in the movies.

Jazz also has a little brother. He's stupid but he's hers, and she will protect him from anything. Her brother is very small, he needs someone to protect him and teach him about the world.

She knows about the world. She understands their parents much better than him, and she can tell her brother when they shouldn't be distracted. She knows when they're upset and irritable, and she knows when they're too excited and being near them is dangerous because of all the inventions.

Jazz does a very good job keeping her little brother safe.

---

Jazz goes to school. Her teachers say that she's very smart, the best student in class, and very mature. Her parents are proud of her - when she manages to distract them from ghosts. Her brother is still kinda stupid and doesn't know how to properly fight food, but she's always there to protect him, because that's what older sisters do.

Her classmates seem to think that she's weird though. Some of them say mean things and call her a teacher's pet and a show-off. Jazz isn't sure why they think so because she's always trying to be friendly but maybe she's doing something wrong. She goes to the school library and finds a book about people and their communication.

It's a very interesting book.

---

Jazz is almost a teen. She's gotten better at communicating with people. The school library ran out of psychology books, and Jazz now has to go to the city library but that's fine. Human brain fascinates her.

She's been feeling like something is wrong about her though. She even thought that she was going crazy for a little bit. That probably wasn't true because she didn't match any symptoms but she was still worried.

Someone told her that being so good at lying and faking face expressions is not okay. That's probably not true, Jazz is pretty sure almost everyone can do that. Or maybe she's just being a prodigy again. It's a very good thing to be able to do after all. She can hide her emotions from her family when she's feeling sad. She wouldn't want to worry them, would she?

She'll have to research it.

---

Jazz is a teen. She now knows that her parents aren't actually that good. It's something that was really hard to accept but it did explain everything. Her parents are kinda bad at being parents, and they also don't really listen when she tries to explain it to them.

It's okay. She's almost an adult and Danny has her. She can take care of herself and her brother.

She learns everything she can about being a parent and a therapist and tries to use her knowledge. It's hard, but she's a Fenton, which means that she's very smart and determined. She pushes through, and trains on her classmates and herself.

In the evening she writes about her feelings in a journal. It's very important to be aware of her feelings because that's the first step to dealing with them.

She's experiencing sadness. And anger, actually, even though she doesn't like to admit that.

She writes "this family is a fucking mess" in her journal and then covers the paper with ink until the sentence is absolutely unreadable.

---

Jazz is sixteen, and her stupid parents opened the stupid portal, which means that they're even worse than usual. It's pretty much okay when they're just stuck in their stupid lab, making some stupid weapons. It's not that okay when they're out of the stupid lab, because they get their stupid inventions all over the stupid house, and stupid food comes to life, and she has to protect Danny from both their stupid weapons and stupid hotdogs, and oh god everything is so stupid.

She's experiencing anger.

She's also acting perfectly calm and almost cheerfully.

Jazz hates how perfect her fake smile is in the mirror.

---

Jazz is seventeen. She wants to put her headphones on and listen to some loud music. Jazz can't do that, because she gets anxious if she can't hear what's happening around her. She needs to be fully aware of her surroundings because she needs to be able to protect herself and her brother if weapons against ghosts become weapons against children again.

She thinks that it's not okay.

The house smells of ectoplasm, so she'll be extra careful when opening the fridge.

She thinks that she shouldn't know how ectoplasm smells.

Jazz should probably also warn Danny: her little brother's gotten better at fighting food but doesn't notice the smell of ectoplasm. Funny, considering his ghost sense.

Funny, considering that her brother is a half-ghost.

That her brother died.

That she failed at protecting him after all.

Jazz stops breathing to prevent herself from crying, and doesn't need oxygen for a few minutes too long.

Maybe she failed at protecting herself too.

---

Jazz is turning eighteen next month. Her parents are all of a sudden more attentive and caring, as if that can change their almost-absence during her whole life. She doesn't like their attention because she doesn't know how to deal with it. She doesn't even really think of them as parents anymore.

She thinks of them as a threat.

Once she's eighteen, she's gonna try to move out, and she's going to take Danny with her because it's not safe to leave him here. Maybe after she gets a good job and saves some money, she'll even get into therapy.

Jazz thinks that she needs therapy.

She's been having Bad Thoughts lately, and she doesn't write them down in her journal. Jazz stopped writing anything in there ever since she found out that Danny is a ghost. She just couldn't risk anyone finding that journal.

Jazz isn't sure if she should call those Bad Thoughts intrusive. They scare her, and they're Bad, but it could be just her normal thought process.

It's still definitely not normal.

---

Jazz is eighteen. Her parents are very excited, whispering to each other about how they found a perfect present for her, some surprise that she's gonna love.

She doesn't care.

Her little brother is late from school, and it's weird, because he was also super excited about giving her his present.

She's worried.

Her parents brush off her concern, say that Danny probably just got distracted talking with his friends. They don't listen when she says that Danny wouldn't get distracted like that on her birthday because he's not them, he actually cares about her, he doesn't forget her birthdays, and something has to be wrong for him to be that late.

They don't listen to her at all.

She's angry.

Her parents are excited and talk loudly about how they wanted to find a perfect gift for their favourite daughter, and how they managed to do it because they love her so much. She hates when they're excited. It only leads to problems.

They bring her to the lab because of course they do, why would they make a gift that is normal and isn't kept in the lab, right? They usher her in, so obviously proud of themselves.

She hates them.

And she hates them much, much more the next second, because the gift is her little brother in his ghost form, strapped to a table, unconscious and injured, and the smell of ectoplasm is strong in the lab because of his green blood dripping on the floor.

There's a cold part of her that analyses her feelings and tells her what emotions she's experiencing, and that part is very aware of thick black smoke of wrath twirling and twisting under her skin. It's suffocating, and she stops breathing as it invisibly fills her lungs, scared of letting it out.

There's a perfectly fake part of her that keeps the smile on her face as her parents gush about how hard it was to catch the ecto-scum, and what they can do to it - together with Jazz because they wanted to share this with their amazing daughter.

Jazz is black smoke of rage under perfect glass of calmness when she grabs Fenton anti-creep stick. The smile she learned to fake under any circumstances doesn't falter when Jazz brings the baseball bat down on her father's head. It grows a little bit wider when she hits her mother, because Jazz learned to smile brighter when she's hurt or sad or scared or angry - experiencing any "bad" emotion actually.

Jazz is angry when she grabs her weapon.

Jazz is furious when she kills her parents.

Jazz is worried when she checks her brother's wounds.

Jazz feels nothing when she rigs the portal to blow, walks out of the house and presses the button.

She is her parents' genius daughter after all, and she did listen when they were telling her about their inventions. Maybe it would have taken longer to do, but she had Bad Thoughts, and they probably weren't just intrusive after all, because she did what they told her and made it very easy to make a bomb out of a portal. Just in case. Her parents were a threat, and Jazz was smart enough to prepare to dealing with threats, and she was smart enough to make it look like the threats dealt with themselves.

She really hoped she wouldn't have to use that button though.

---

Jazz is nineteen. Her sort-of-friends at uni offer to go to a restaurant, and she tells them that she doesn't celebrate her birthdays. There's a noise of all of them saying that maybe she should try, noise that she really should have expected, because humans are always so excited about any holidays, it's hard for them to understand that someone might not like them. It's not hard to stop that noise though. They shut up very quickly when Jazz says that she had "a very traumatic event" on her birthday.

Good. She doesn't like loud people.

Jazz goes home to her little brother. He's sad because his parents died in an awful explosion a year ago. He's still trying to smile because it's also her birthday, and Jazz is very happy that he's bad at faking a smile.

It means that he won't end up like her.

Jazz hugs her little brother, and he gives her a little present that she adores, and then they sit in silence and eat some takeout. It's very nice.

She never tells Danny that their parents died before the explosion, and that the explosion wasn't an accident, and that their ghosts did form after that because of all the ecto-contamination they had, but she made sure this wouldn't become a problem. She never tells him what she's done, because that would hurt her little brother, and she would never let anything hurt him.

Jazz will protect her little brother from anything.