#if anyone knows of a tag replacer that still works please tell me

[locktobre]

I saw your Barbie posts related to accents, languages and nationalities and hae some thoughts:

Hadley from Charm School not speaking English as her mother tongue. She's played by Teresa, so she comes from a Latin American country. She is Latina, like Isla coming from Japan.

I just consider Mariposa Spain and they speak Spanish. Shimmervale, on the other hand, I view as Malta. Fairytopia, Portugal so they speak Portuguese. Island Princess, they speak Italian etc, Meribella is Monaco so French.

And Kira apparently is Vietnamese, Nia from Western Fun was Native American, and Miko was Native Hawaiian, as I saw an ask about why we didn't get other races.

Now an explanation that is needed: Fairy Secret. Why is Taylor British and why is Zane Italian, and in Mermaid Tale why does the lipstick fish have a Hungarian accent? She talks like Zsa Zsa Gabor??? What? And yes why isn't Summer Aussie, as well as why did Blaine never appear in a movie when Barbie wasn;t dating Ken, and why didn't Christie, Lea, and Kayla appaear? I mean Kira only had 2 dolls in the 2000s before being completely cut, so her I get.

Sat on this for awhile trying to decide if I wanted to be nice answering, and I decided that I do not want to be nice. I haven't talked about Barbie in months, really, so I have no idea what posts you're referring to. There are literally over 7,700 posts in my Barbie tag from the past 10 years so speaking vaguely about something not recent is of no help to me. But whatever, I'm going to deal with this and then turn off my ask again.

I tried searching my blog to see what the hell you're talking about so maybe I'm right, maybe I'm not, whatever.

Re: this post?

Hadley from Charm School not speaking English as her mother tongue. She's played by Teresa, so she comes from a Latin American country. She is Latina, like Isla coming from Japan.

A couple things here:

I don't really account for who "plays" the characters in the movies in my headcanons, because I have everyone existing alongside Barbie herself, so it doesn't matter. My most recent headcanon for Hadley had her coming from Johanistan (although that would most likely mean English is still not her first language).

Isla does not come from Japan. Nowhere in the movie is it said that she comes from Japan (her kingdom is never mentioned, in fact). That is your headcanon, it's not canon, and therefore has no bearing on anything.

Re: this post?

I just consider Mariposa Spain and they speak Spanish. Shimmervale, on the other hand, I view as Malta. Fairytopia, Portugal so they speak Portuguese. Island Princess, they speak Italian etc, Meribella is Monaco so French.

God where to begin here.

First of all, assuming I found the right post, you completely missed the fucking point of what I was saying. Fairytopia (which encompasses Flutterfield and Shimmervale, they are not separate, they are pieces of a whole) DOES NOT HAVE SPAIN. THEREFORE THEY CAN'T SPEAK SPANISH. That was the point I was making! Are you kidding me here? The point of that post was speculating what you might call a language analogous to Spanish, without Spain existing. Since it's spoken in Flutterfield, the language could be called Flutter, and therefore Marabella and Carlos have Flutter accents. Something like that. That was my point.

Secondly, Island Princess and Popstar have nothing at all to do with Fairytopia or, again, what I was saying. Irrelevant.

No idea what this is referring to, and I'm not going to bother looking this time bc I've ranted about Mattel's racism plenty of times.

And Kira apparently is Vietnamese, Nia from Western Fun was Native American, and Miko was Native Hawaiian, as I saw an ask about why we didn't get other races.

Those are old dolls from lines that haven't existed in decades, they're fully fucking irrelevant. There's a nameless horde of diverse Fashionistas these days, and that's great, I'm glad that ppl have them, but there is still a severe lack of diversity in the animated media that is appalling, and yes still even though Barbie "Brooklyn" Roberts exists now. I mean, for god's sake, the current universe started in 2018 and it took until 2021 for Barbie "Malibu" Roberts to have a second Black friend, and even that only happened bc of the BLM protests of May 2020. Like. Are you fucking kidding me? THAT'S what it took to expand Malibu's social circle? GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK. Mattel is racist and ppl have articulated it better than me, but it's just a fact. (This is when I decided to be mean btw. The unmitigated gall to try and defend Mattel to me... Shut the fuck up.)

And now, the last inanity:

Now an explanation that is needed: Fairy Secret. Why is Taylor British and why is Zane Italian, and in Mermaid Tale why does the lipstick fish have a Hungarian accent? She talks like Zsa Zsa Gabor??? What? And yes why isn't Summer Aussie, as well as why did Blaine never appear in a movie when Barbie wasn;t dating Ken, and why didn't Christie, Lea, and Kayla appaear? I mean Kira only had 2 dolls in the 2000s before being completely cut, so her I get.

Let's break this down.

So, you have no problem saying that Flutterfield is Spain, even tho Fairytopia is not Earth and has no known contact with Earth at all... but somehow the characters of Gloss Angeles, whose MAIN PLOT is about their connection with Earth, confuses you? What? WHAT? Why can't Taylor be British? Why can't Zane be Italian? What are you TALKING about?

Never really cared about what accent the lipstick fish had, but again, Mermaid Tale takes place on Earth. She could pick it up. Or it's some kind of fish accent. Who even cares?

The only animated depiction of Summer thus far has been Life in the Dreamhouse, and since Blaine didn't exist there, they might have retconned the fact that she's supposed to be Australian. Or maybe they forgot.

Barbie didn't date Blaine in the movies bc she stopped dating, period. There hasn't been a romantic arc in a Barbie movie since 2015 (longer since there's been a good one), and before Epic Road Trip, Barbie as herself's last romance... was Ken in Fairy Secret. And then she was a teenager and nobody was allowed to date for whatever reason. There was no reason for Blaine to be there lmfao. Also who even cares about Blaine? He sucks.

Christie, Lea, and Kayla have been dead for years so of course they're not going to appear in anything?? It was a miracle to see Christie in animated form in 2015 when she had already been dead for 10 full years at that point, but she was super whitewashed so like they couldn't even do that right lmfao.

Anyway you probably won't read this bc I'm blocking you as soon as I post this. Get well soon and never bother me again.

#mel irl #barbie babbles #thedisneytardblr #thanks for asking #I really regret choosing that as my ask tag but it's too late to change it #if anyone knows of a tag replacer that still works please tell me

[angelltheninth]

Ruler Astarion Fucks You on His Throne

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, power dynamic, biting, cock riding, blood sucking, kissing, praise, manipulation, danger of getting caught

A/N: Astarion commission for @bumblebeeh. Thank you for the support!

Nothing odd about being the last one left in Lord Astarion's throne room. The two of you often enjoyed chats and trading gossip. He might be a King now but he won't forget his rouge ways, they're as much a part of him as they were while he was still out there adventuring with his friends. He's confined in you that he misses those days sometimes.

There's all these status and money and power that he's gained but he can't help but feel like it somehow cost his freedom. The freedom that he's longed for.

While you couldn't give him that freedom, being only one of his trusted servants you could take his mind off the things that troubled him. You were always happy to lend him your shoulder, despite the rumors it caused around the castle.

"Am I troubling you with my talk?" He asked as he cupped your cheek.

"Not at all my Lord. I'm glad you trust to me so much that you would confide in me." You knew that he could feel how warm your face was getting from looking at him. "I'm happy to be by your side when you need me."

Astarion hummed and let his hand move down, past your hip and to your thigh. "Would you let me do this?" He cupped you between your legs, watching your eyes widen in shock. You didn't move. He teased and flirted with many on his staff but as far as you knew he never went this far with anyone. "You've had to clean up a few messes I made before, don't tell me you've never wanted to be the cause of them."

The heel of his hand pressed over your clit, his fingers feeling your skirt dampen. "L-Lord Astarion! You shouldn't be doing this with a servant girl."

"And why not? Who made that rule? Is there someone above me?" He curled his fingers, searching for your covered opening. "Please." Looking at you with eyes that looked on the verge of crying he asked you to come closer. "Tell me no if you don't want me back. Do it quick."

He was right before. There was no rule that said he couldn't bed his servants, in fact it was what was expected of many. So it would seem that you would be first one. You moved away from his hand and he a brief look of rejection flashed across his pale face before being replaced by hunger when you lifted your dress and showed him your wet pussy.

Astarion's eyes darkened to a blood red color, his fangs elongating when he smirked. "Sit here."

Technically you weren't sitting on the throne. You were sitting on your Lord's lap and he was sitting on the throne. Therefore no laws were broken by you. "My Lord… you're poking me."

"Because I can smell it, your blood and your arousal, calling to me. I haven't heard this sound in a long time darling. Thank you for reminding me of it." His hands moved from your thick thighs to the softness of your hips, the sharp claws making thin marks on your skin. "As for how you taste, I imagine it's all so much more sweet."

Sharper then his claws were his fangs which danced around your throat, sending shivers down your spine, causing you to spread your wetness across the tent in his pants. You felt a pleasurable sting as he bit you, and a stirring of his cock when the coppery, yet sweet taste of your blood hit his tongue.

Your hands fisted into his shirt, "Hurts doesn't it? I can do what you did for me. I can make you forget the pain." His other hand moved the two of yours to his pants. You made fast work of them, fishing out his hard cock. "Good girl. You know exactly what to do to make your Lord feel good. Such attentiveness will be rewarded."

As he promised he made you momentarily forget about the pain by pushing his hard cock into your wet, tight pussyhole. You hissed as you stretched around him, his girth being more then you expected. "W-Wait-!" He seemed to be in a hurry, using his hands to help you move up and down on his cock, taking him from tip to hilt.

"What a tight little cunt. It must have been a long time since you've been with a man. How can that be when you're so beautiful?" Astarion cast a look of desire over your form, his hand moving to free your bouncing tits, "And these? Heavenly." He cupped one in his hand before leaning down and biting on the side, drawing more blood from you as you rode his fat cock.

"You… honor me with your words my Lord. But I'm nothing special." That remark earned you a loud slap on the ass. "Ah!"

"Nothing special. And you think I would fuck just anyone then? Well? Do you?"

You bit your lip nervously, "O-Of course not my Lord. You deserve only the best."

"Exactly. So no more talk like that." He kissed the bite mark on your breasts before moving to bite a mirroring one on the other. Your arms locked around his head, your moans muffled only slightly by his hair, remembering that you were still in the throne room. "On my command." Your pussy clenched immediately, you knew what he was referring too. "Oh, such a good girl. This cunt know what I need. Come for me then, I want my cock soaked."

He praised you so much you couldn't let him down. You came on his cock, squeezing it for all it was worth until it pulsed and released thick spurts of cum inside you. "So mu-ah-ch. Full." You pressed yourself against his thinner frame, breathing heavily in his arms.

"Shhh. It's alright. It's perfectly normal to feel tired. After all you were drained in more ways then one." His hand pressed against your back, rubbing soothing strokes up and down. "You did well for me. Rest. Let me your Lord take care of you for a change." You sighed against his neck and pressed a lazy kiss there, hearing him gasp out a tiny breath before his other hand took yours and pressed it to his lips, kissing each finger as a show of gratitude.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion imagine #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion smut #astarion fluff #astarion x you #bg3 fic #astarion fic #neil newbon #astarion x oc #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion x fem reader

[fangsp1der-2099]

Manipulative

Young!Coriolanus Snow x Fem!reader

| Navigation |

| Warnings‼️: Coriolanus is a bit possessive and a bit crazy also gets a bit suggestive at the end but that’s all folks. |

| a/n : first time writing for a character like Coriolanus but I hope I did him some justice because I’m in love with him. Enjoy 💕. |

| tags 🏷️: @knight-of-flowerss @thethreeeyed-raven |

manipulative

/məˈnɪpjʊlətɪv/

adjective 


exercising unscrupulous control or influence over a person or situation.

A word commonly used to describe Coriolanus Snow. Almost anyone who wasn’t under his influence would call him that word. Not you though, how could you? He was sweet and kind and could never hurt you. He bought you nice clothes, gifted you bouquets of roses that were coloured a white of the purest snow and gave you anything a lady of the Capitol could ever need. However you still got the feeling that something was wrong with him. What if the people were right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were looking in the mirror at yourself. Was it yourself? The eyes that stared back at you didn’t feel carry the same warmth as they once did. Your curves, didn’t feel like they were yours, too full for a person who had been through war. You glide your hands down your newly bought satin dress. Coriolanus had bought it for when you were feeling down a few days ago. He could never see his lady sad.

You hug yourself, arms snaking around your stomach. Why did you feel this way? A silent sob racked your body. Tears spilled down your blushed cheeks and dropped onto the dress. You tried to wipe away the tears but they fell like an everlasting waterfall. The mascara that had sat on your eyelashes were now smudged across your eyelids and the cherry lipstick that once graced your lips was now smeared across your chin. You looked as disgusting as you felt. At least you thought so.

The front door of your penthouse clicked open. Was Coriolanus already home? You grab a handkerchief and you wipe off as much of the ruined makeup as you could and replaced it with a faux smile.

“Darling? Are you here?” You hear Coriolanus’ soft voice behind the door. “Yes I’m here Corio.” Your voice still shaky but hopefully not noticeable. He opens the door and he looks straight at you and smiles. “There’s my beautiful girl.” He’s wearing his deep red coat with a pair of black gloves. You try to keep some distance from him. As he steps forward you take a small shuffle back. After a few steps he notices. “Darling? Are you ok? Did something happen while I was away? I’m telling you if one of the butlers tried anything I will fucking-“ “No! No I’m fine!” You cut him off. “Just not feeling great that’s all.” You chuckle slightly, trying to play it off.

He sighs. “Please doll, if anything is wrong ,tell me.” He walks over to you and places a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know.” A genuine soft smile appears on your lips. He always had a way to cheer you up. “Are you going to tell me why you look like that?” he raises his brow, obviously noticing your red puffy eyes and the smudged make up. “Nothing important.” You wave your hand around trying to exaggerate that you were fine. “Tell me darling. You’re safe with me.” He places his hands on the sides of your face, softly caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “Please.” He pleads in a soft whisper.

“Fine…I just feel wrong?” You confess, you feel like crying again. “Wrong?” He questions. “Yes wrong. My body feels like not mine.” You hear an almost sadistic laugh come from him. “Darling please. Your body is mine.” What? You look at him confused. He kisses you again but this time on your lips. He invites his tongue in between your lips and into your mouth where both of your lips danced together in a harmony of passion and lust. He leaves your mouth and works down to your neck leaving a trail of kisses. Slightly nipping your skin with every kiss trying to mark you to show that you were his

You let out a soft whimper. You didn’t know whether it was out of fear or pleasure. “Tell me that you’re mine.”He says breathlessly as he leaves your skin just before he continues to kiss you. Your hand reaches for his hair as he reaches the neck line of your dress. “I’m yours Coriolanus.” You moan into his hair and he chuckles into your skin, you can feel his voice vibrate against your skin. “I’m glad to see that you finally realise who you belong to doll.” His voice laced with authority. He slips down your dress before carrying you to the bedroom.

Maybe the people were right but you wasn’t going to listen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: hope you enjoyed and have a good day lovelies 💕

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #tom blyth

[just-some-guy-joust]

Just Some Guy OC Tourney - Side B: Round 1

Rules:

do NOT be mean to anyone or any characters in these polls. you MUST clarify if you are joking/teasing or you will be blocked. if you are someone who entered an oc into this and you are mean to other contestants you will be disqualified

do NOT claim a character doesn't deserve to be here. yes including your own. be nice

if you are posting propaganda you have to tag us, including if your propaganda is in the reblogs. it is difficult to tell when something is or isn't propaganda. anything not tagging us will likely be missed

please don't hesitate to let me know if i messed something up!

have fun, hype each other up <3 thank you

Professor Morelle Da Capo | She/her | @kira-moonrabbit

CW: The source, Lobotomy Corporation, has a large list of content warnings. This character by herself though is fine

Robotwoman who is famous for being dedicated. She works 24/7. Her hobbies include "logging everyone's opinions about her" and "standing still thinking about bicycles"

~

Chester Mallory | He/Him | @liliflower137

CW: Memory loss, loss of limb, temporary death

Chester is a twitch streamer and freelance programmer. The multiverse keeps dropping wild adventures on his lap but man he just wants to kiss his husband, cook some food for his friends, and take a damn nap.

Promos: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863709

~

Full images and descriptions under the cut!

Professor is a machine who was built to replace employees! Well, a prototype that failed that they put to work. Her robotic-ness serves not to reduce her Just-Some-Guyness, but rather to amplify it. She logs everything that happens to her. She loves to partake in tasks and objectives. However this does not mean she is an emotionless beep-boop, but instead she has the personality of a tired but kind old lady. The kind who has an endless supply of caramels in a bowl somewhere. However she has no idea how to form her own preferences. She's factory default in everything. Plain as water. She sees the hells of being in lobcorp as normal and natural. One time she went to another branch and was absolutely delighted by a "hang in there, baby!" poster as though it was the cutest thing she's ever seen.

Chester Wayne Mallory is an hlvrai player oc who came out of his half life vr experience with a missing arm, a patchy memory, and a boyfriend. Life has been wild for him ever since and he's just been dragged along for the ride, usually hiding in the back and hoping whatever existential horror coming after his friends this week doesn't beat him up or mind control him too bad. He's just a normal human after all.

#tournament poll #oc tournament #ocs #some guy joust #professor morelle da capo #chester mallory

[sleepy-wyvern]

Scars and Stretch Marks (Eddie Munson x female!Reader) Part 1

Chapter: 1/? (in progress) Part 2 here

Synopsis: Reader helps Eddie deal with his body insecurities. Eddie Munson wakes up after the most metal concert in the world covered in scars. These scars bring on insecurity from Eddie when he meets a gorgeous woman with her own scar that she doesn't mind showing off. They work together to win the love of a little black kitten with a scar over its eye.

Dedication: Miniseries for the lovely loony tunes @alienthingstwo 💙 hope you enjoy, more parts to come!

Word count: 1.5k (first chapter)

Smut will be included in later chapters so minors please do not interact! 18+!

Warnings/Content tags: Scars, stretch marks, body insecurity, body worship

Where there once was chaos, suddenly there was peace. The bats have cleared leaving the savior stranded on the ground. Somehow the clouded sky and polluted atmosphere cleared away to a normal blue of Hawkins Indiana.

Eddie Munson woke with a gasp, bringing his hand to his chest. Once where excruciating pain had been had been replaced with… nothing. Nothing but a normal beating heart as if the whole ordeal had never happened.

He looked down at his hands, flexing his calloused fingers. His fingertips were still covered in dried scarlet from when he tried to stop his own bleeding. Had it worked? Surely not, as he had passed out soon after. Yet here he was, breathing and sitting up. No fresh blood.

“What the f-” he mumbled looking at the world around him.

His hands moved down to his torso feeling the drying blood stains and ripped holes through the fabric of his hellfire shirt. The last thing he remember was being chased by a swarm of demobats but suddenly things felt different. He was no longer in the upside down.

He pulled the bottom of his ruined hellfire shirt up to reveal bright red scars covering his chest and abdomen. Dozens of bites and scratches where claws tore away at skin. His heart caught in his throat before smoothing the fabric back down again and running his fingers through his long shaggy hair.

How exactly was he going to explain this to anyone? He had no idea. 

Meanwhile, down by the old metal trailer stood a woman crouched by the ground curiously. She wore jean shorts and a tank top to escape the heat, showing a long scar on her hip trailing down to her thigh.

~YOUR POV~

“Kitty kitty kitty,” you cooed trying to coax the little black kitten out from underneath the trailer. 

Of course once you saw him there you had to try and coax him out. Poor baby was likely in need of some food and a bath. He was small and fluffy but clearly a fighter you could tell. 

You sighed under the heat, wiping the back of your hand against your forehead. You were determined to win this little guys love despite how much patience it would take.

He stared at you from underneath the doorstep, a fearful curiosity in his large green eyes. Part of his left ear was missing and there was a scar above his right eye, perhaps from a fight over some food or god knows what. Even so, he was adorable. Scars and all.

The ceramic dish with wet cat food sat in front of you, you knew it would be hard for the kitten to resist. Now it was a game of patience and wits.

“Come on little guy,” you spoke as softly as you could. “Come on out. I promise you a lifetime of food, cuddles, treats and toys.”

“Sign me up.” The voice behind you made you jump as you turned around. 

You blinked wondering if what you were seeing in front of you was real. Eddie Munson, the guy who had been missing and maybe a week prior a wanted suspected murderer was standing in front of you. His image had been cleared from the police reports but on his forearm you spotted a streak of dried blood.

He wore jeans and a grey shirt with sleeves that ended at his elbows, concealing whatever was hidden underneath. You’ve never seen him in that shirt before when you shared classes together, he was barely seen outside of the hellfire tee. If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he plucked it off of a clothesline nearby. 

“Uhh, are you alright?” You asked cautiously, trailing your eyes up the mark of dark red.

People had started rumors about him, how Satanic he was. Stereotypes were never something you cared to follow though. Right here right now he just seemed... Flustered. Messy, chaotic and confused.

He followed your gaze to the dried blood and pressed his lips together in annoyance, “apparently I am.”

“Is… is it a bad thing to be okay?” You asked confused.

He rubbed his forehead with his hands. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It’s fine. Clearly I’m dead and gone to heaven.” He hauls the bandana off of his head, stuffing it into his pocket.

“Uhhh, did you hit your head or something? I think I’d be aware if this was heaven” you shifted your weight from one leg to the next, folding your arms as he watched you. 

“Then why the hell are you here?” He asked, cheeks immediately going red as he realized the implication of his own words. “Uhhh, I mean, I thought you were in California or something.” He avoided eye contact with you.

You remembered sitting across the room from him in high school the year before. You had barely exchanged many words, perhaps only for a group project once. You would have been surprised to hear he knew your name, let alone the fact that he just told you he knew you moved to California.

You tilted your head at him, “I came back. Hawkins is far from any heaven but it’s a type of home.”

He dug into his pockets searching for something. He wasn’t ignoring you, you could tell, just a thousand different things were running through his mind.

“Is this your place?” You asked.

He nodded, an expression of pure relief washing over his face as he pulled out his keys.

This entire situation was odd yet it amused you, “why haven’t you asked why I’m here yet? In front of your trailer.”

“Well, it’s my uncles. Frankly, stranger things have happened to me than a pretty girl standing around my place…” he thought for a moment, “never mind, scratch that. This is the strangest thing I’ve experienced but I assume you’re not into eating cat food on a stranger's doorstep.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks at his words. You turned back around noticing the kitten unfortunately had taken the food and scampered off. 

“Well, there’s been a stray kitten hanging out around here. I've been trying to catch him.” You sighed. 

He unlocked the door but was more intrigued by the conversation at hand. You turned back just in time to see his eyes flutter up from the scar on your leg. It didn’t bother you, in fact you were used to the looks by now. The way he looked at you felt different than the stares of horror or curiousness. Instead it seemed like adoration?

He was embarrassed though as he looked away, scratching his neck nonchalantly trying to think of something to say to save himself. “Have you, uh, always had that scar?”

“Have you always had an arm covered in blood?” You nodded to him and he shook his head.

“No, believe it or not I woke up like this.” He pulled down on his shirt nervously. Perhaps some questions were better off left unanswered.

You tap your finger against your chin “well, I've woken up in worse states.”

He seemed amused by your response as he chuckled. “Trust me, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Right, I should see the other guy huh?” Frankly you didn’t believe him. 

He smirked from your comment before shaking his head “I wish. It was a, uh, raccoon attack.” He scratched the back of his head, wincing before continuing, “I didn’t run this time at least.”

You wondered to yourself if perhaps he should have ran instead. “Well, maybe you should get yourself a rabies shot.”

He stuffed his hands in his back pockets, “will do.”

You both stood there for a moment seemingly unsure of what to say yet not exactly wanting to leave.

“Hey, uh, mind if I leave the cat food here and come back around sometime to try and get him? Poor guy looked starved.” Your voice was suddenly nervous and you weren’t sure why. 

“Oh, yeah sure.” Eddie shook his head as if to try and regain his composure. “If you’ll excuse me I'm in dire need of a shower… and the cure for rabies.”

“Right.” You smiled slyly. “I’ll see you around then?”

“Yeah, yeah for sure,” he nodded with a small smile. You could tell he was doing his best not to cringe at himself for not finding the right words. 

“I’ll keep an eye out for your, uh, cat,” he called as you started walking away. 

“Thanks,” You smirked back at him before turning back around, feeling his gaze follow you.

“There’s no cure for rabies by the way!” You called out. 

“What?!” He shouted and sounded fearful as you chuckled, "what do you mean?!"

You wove as you walked away without turning back, "see you later."

===

Scars and Stretch Marks

Hope you enjoyed!!! Next chapters will be coming soon!

Have a great day my lovely readers!

-Wyv

#eddie munson #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #fan fic #fan fics #fan fiction #wyv writes

[heaven4lostgirls]

Enough for you

general kirigan x grisha!fem!reader

tags: angst, cheating, sad ending, kirigan crying

You were grisha and proud, you were also one of the best inferni, General Kirigan saw you as his pride and joy. That was until he found someone to replace you. Alina Starkov, the sun summoner. God how you wished she wasn’t around, you knew the fold had been created by Kirigan after the death of his former love and that it had caused many people loss and pain, you included however some twisted, selfish part of you knew that nothing would have had to change between you and Kirigan if Alina hadn’t tried to save her best friend.

What a horrible thing to think of, the fold was not good for anyone in Ravka and you knew with Kirigans tutoring Alina would be strong enough to tear it down, but in doing so you would lose Kirigan to the Sun Summoner and you couldn’t do anything about it.

“Y/L/N, General Kirigan requires you in his map room” you heard one of the other grisha’s tell you as you trained. You sighed and cleaned up before making your way there. You had never knocked before to get into Kirigans quarters and you thought now would be no different however you were sorely mistaken, as he leant against the desk in all his darkness and beauty, Alina stood kissing him, the worst part? He was kissing her back. how could you have been so naive to think that he would choose you over the sun summoner, she was perfect, his other half really. You were just a simple inferni when she could harness the light of the damn sun. You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes so you quickly composed yourself before knocking on the door and taking a step back so that one of them could usher you in.

“Y/N.” You saw Kirigans smile but all you did was nod back stoically. His smile dropped and he looked somewhat confused and a little hurt that you hadn’t greeted him as you usually would.

“General, Y/F/N said you requested my presence” You stated formally. He nods as he shakes himself out of his trance.

“Yes indeed, this is Alina Starkov as you must know, as you are one of the best of our grisha I am entrusting you to train her to harness her powers” He stated and you clenched you jaw. You held no ill will towards Alina because you knew she held no knowledge of you or Kirigan however you could not work with her.

“As much as I appreciate the gesture General, I am teaching the young grisha that have come from the orphanage of North Ravka, i apologize but I am however busy.” You stated and turned to Alina with an apologetic smile which she met with a comforting one of her own.

General Kirigan sighs in distaste. “I see, I will have your schedule changed so that you and Alina will share training plans, please do make sure she is caught up to speed, we are to host the ball for Miss Starkov” You fight the urge to punch Kirigans small smirk off of his face however you resist.

“Indeed General, is that all? I shall be making my way back to my room if Miss Starkov shall need a tour” He frowns at your abruptness and urgency to get away from him however he shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary, i will show her around” You smile with a tight jaw before making your way out of the map room. “Y/N, please do see me after dinner.” You can’t help but feel tears well up in your eyes. You shouldn’t but you wish that you weren’t an object of Kirigans desires but you knew that even if you did not show, he would call upon you first thing in the morning.

You nod and rush to your room. “For fucks sake!” You scream and let go of your magic as you set light to the curtains. You quickly snuff out the flames with water from your flower vase as you collapse on the floor in a ball of tears. You knew better than to get attached after everything. Kirigan had no place in his heart for anyone other than himself…and now somehow Alina.

As you had dinner you couldn’t help but feel Kirigans eyes on you as you ate with shaky hands, still not fully calm after your breakdown in your room. As you made your way to his office you felt the cold air brush against your cheeks.

You knock on the door to Kirigans chambers and he opens them, he is only in his black shirt and pants, no cloak in sight, his hair is slightly messy and he seems weirdly happy to see you.

He motions you inside and you walk in only to be pushed up against the door as Kirigan moves to kiss you. You push him away slightly and shake your head. You can feel his hurt and confusion radiate off of him in waves but some part of you rejoices in the idea that he wants you as bad as you do him.

“I can’t do this anymore General, Our priorities need to be clear, You now have the sun summoner with you and you are in no need of my company anymore, I am no longer to be by your side as she has taken my place I assume? Thank you for taking me in and giving me a chance to train to be a better grisha however I must implore that this arrangement come to an end” you ramble as you pace his room.

“What are you saying Y/N?” You feel Kirigans calloused hands hold your face as he beckons you to look into his eyes, your somewhat glossed over eyes skims his face to see him shaking his head as water pools in his eyes too.

“I saw you kiss Alina, I am not a fool to assume I am enough for you, all I ask is that you respect me enough to leave on my own terms” You smile trying to comfort him as he seems to try and grasp onto any part of you he has left.

“You are mistaken Y/N, please think this through. You could never be Alina to me, you are-“

“I have heard enough please, don’t torture me by telling me what I am not.”

“No! Please Y/N you can’t leave like this, there is so much I need to tell you-“

“And you can, when we have training.”

“NO! No no no no, I’m so sorry I can’t lose you like this, please Y/N just listen to me-“

You smile tearfully as he rambles on trying to bring you closer to him however you just simply kiss his cheek as you make your way out of his chambers as he tries to follow and grab your wrist but you’re too far gone.

He realizes he has lost you in his quest to become strong again.

You had made him happy and he had been so focused on Alina that he had let you slip through his fingers.

He collapsed on the ground in a puddle of tears as he sobbed over the loss of someone he could have loved.

a/n: part 2??

SEND ME REQUESTS I BEG!!

#grishaverse #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone #alina starvok #general kirigan x alina starkov #shadow and bone angst #general kirigan angst #juliwrites

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Make a Wish

This fic was inspired by The Time Dean was Sam’s Girlfriend by fleshflutter on LiveJournal

This is it! The thing I've been working on writing all year. It's finally done!

Dean and Jessica share a birthday, so what would happen if they both made birthday wishes at the same time that caused them to swap bodies? The inspiration story was fluffy and silly and adorable, but what if things were more explicit? Like, way more explicit?

This is a gender-bending body swap fic were the characters' sexual partners do not know who is actually inhabiting the body they are having sex with, so it's non-con. It's a bit of a dead dove, so if you don't think you'd be okay with the tags, please don't read. If you do read, I hope you enjoy it!

Relationships: Dean/Sam, Sam/Jessica, Jessica/omc

Warnings: Non-Con resulting from body swap situation and characters not making good choices

Read on AO3

Words: 14,476

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

January 24th, 2004

If anyone had ever tried to tell Dean that he would be spending his 25th birthday alone in some dive bar off the highway somewhere between Bumfuck and Podunk, middle America, he would have said that sounded about right. Especially after the last few years. Being alone had become, more and more, par for the course. 

His dad, increasingly absent, which was fucking saying something when you considered John Winchester’s stellar trackrecord in that particular department, had been off on a solo hunt for a week now. Before heading out, he’d tasked Dean with a simple salt ‘n’ burn, a milk run that had taken all of a day and a half to complete. So now Dean was expected to just sit here, in this rest stop that was pretending to be a town, and fucking wait.

Dean hated waiting. Waiting gave you too much time to think, even though he had nothing good to think about, and thinking like that got you into trouble.

It was a Saturday night and, other than Dean, there were only four other people in the bar, three other patrons who all looked to be well into their fifties and the bartender, who was a decently handsome guy, probably did well enough with the ladies, but he had a beard and skinny jeans that gave off hipster vibes that made Dean decide right off the bat that he didn’t particularly like the guy. 

He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and flipped it open with his thumb. The screen lit up, his thumb hovered over the button that would pull up his contacts. Once again, Sam hadn’t bothered to call him on his birthday and the urge to give his brother shit about it was strong. 

Eight months. 

He flipped the phone shut and sat it on the surface of the bar to the right of his beer, and tapped his ring against it twice, the silver making a satisfying clink against the hard plastic. It’d been eight months since they’d spoken. 

Dean had called on Sam’s birthday, no answer, so he’d left a message, “Happy Birthday, Bitch. Call sometime, let me know you’re still alive.”

It’d taken almost another month before he’d worked up the nerve, which was almost entirely worry-fueled anger at that point, to call again. It only rang twice. 

“Dean?”

Fear that had been slowly choking him from the inside let go all at once, replaced just as suddenly by irritation. “So you are alive.” 

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t called you back. I’ve been drowning in finals.”

“Yeah right, you know you aced ‘em.” He could hear Sam smile, without him saying anything, and that should have made things better but it really didn’t. But they’d shot the shit for a bit, conversation light and barely surface deep, a shallow script whose only consolation was the reassurance that Sam was okay, better even, he sounded like he was thriving. A weird lump suddenly formed in Dean’s throat. “Hey, I gotta go, but happy belated.”

“Oh? Okay, thanks.” 

“Later. Hey? Pick up the damn phone sometime.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye, Jerk.”

“Bitch.” 

That had been in June. Neither of them had reached out since. He gave the phone a spin on the heavily varnished wood, set it twirling in place like a top before reaching for his beer. One long pull and it was drained. 

“‘Nother one?” The bartender asked as Dean sat the empty bottle down.

“You know what? Fuck it, it’s my birthday, let’s step it up to bourbon.”

“Birthday, huh? And you’re lucky enough to be drinking here?” There was a barely restrained chuckle at the end.

“Yep.” Dean said with a little extra pop at the end of the word. 

“Damn.” The bartender said as he turned and selected a bottle, grabbed a glass, and was back pouring two fingers of amber liquid with practiced ease. “This one’s on the house, birthday boy.”

Dean’s face lit up in a genuine, if somewhat rueful smile, “Thanks.”

The bartender nodded and busied himself further down the bar. 

Dean slowly swirled the glass a few times. “Yeah.” he said, quietly, “Happy birthday.” Looking down at his phone again, he raised the glass to his lips and took a drink. He closed his eyes as the smokey, thick burn chased a wish for something out of reach down his throat. 

A wave of vertigo crashed over him, so sudden and hard that he was glad he’d been sitting down. Even though he’d watched him pour the drink, the idea that maybe the bartender had drugged him suddenly seemed like a very real possibility. 

Wait, why did he smell candle smoke? Shit, was he having a stroke or something?

He opened his eyes and had to grab onto the edge of the table to steady himself as his legs threatened to give out. Bar and barstool were gone, replaced with a house and a small dining table. The room he was now in was full of people looking at him with bright smiles, who all started clapping and cheering as soon as he opened his eyes. Smoke curled up from a forest of little, thin candles sticking out of a flowery cake on the table right in front of him that had, “Happy Birthday, Jessica!” written on it in fancy, blue, cursive icing.

There was a flurry of movement to his left and a pair of pretty brunettes started cutting into the cake and passing slices around. Everyone was smiling and laughing and acting incredibly… normal, like nothing weird had just happened.

Something moved way too close to Dean’s face and he flinched and tried to swat it away. As he touched it, he froze, eyes fixed on his fingers and the lock of long, wavy, blonde hair that tugged on his scalp as he tried to get it away from him. Long blonde hair that was being held not by his own fingers but by delicate, slender, fingers with nails painted pale pink, all glossy and graceful and… soft.

To say it was disconcerting would have been the understatement of all time. He was looking at a hand that was very obviously not his own, but that moved and felt as if it were. He gave another tug to the lock of hair, harder this time, and although it didn’t exactly hurt, it was definitely attached to his head, not a wig or anything like that. He brushed it back and confirmed he now had a full head of hair that came down way past his shoulders. 

Chick hands, chick hair… his eyes went wide and he looked down his chest and stared right into cleavage. 

He had tits!? 

“Oh fuck.” he said in a chick’s voice.

“Hey?” A warm touch to his upper arm caused Dean to turn and look right into the throat of a massive guy standing behind him. Tilting his head back to look up he was met with bright eyes and a dimpled smile that he knew better than his own reflection.

“Sam?”

“Happy Birthday, Jess.” That smile, still sweet but with a gleam, a glint that Dean hadn’t seen since they were both teenagers. One of Sam’s hands came up, jesus he had big hands, and gently brushed along Dean’s jawline, thumb sweeping his cheek as long fingers slipped into his hair behind his ear. Sam’s gaze held Dean’s focus as he leaned down. 

Had Sam gotten even taller?

Everything was moving in slow motion, Dean couldn’t feel his heart beating, wasn’t breathing, but his mind was spinning, scrambling to sort through way too much information, too much change, just too much, way too fast. So perhaps it was understandable that he didn’t react in time to pull back.

Just a fleeting, Oh fuck, before their lips met and Dean’s heart leapt into action like he’d been shocked awake. Sam was warm and familiar, but the way he pressed and pulled at Dean’s bottom lip, just a promising hint of more, made a small noise escape Dean’s throat that didn’t sound at all like disgust, like it should have.

Someone wolf whistled loudly nearby, eliciting another round of clapping and cheers from the crowd and Sam pulled back, twin spots of red blazing on his cheeks. He laughed in a way that Dean hadn’t seen in ages, playful and easy and open, as he glanced around at these people who were obviously his friends. A spark of something anxious twisted up in his chest. Dean blinked a few times, licked his lips, and swallowed, winded like he’d just sprinted up a hill too fast. 

“Get it, Winchester!” a guy hooted from somewhere behind Dean.

“That’s real mature, Brady.” Sam said, his hand sliding down Dean’s shoulder and the back of his arm, coming to rest low on his back, fingertips brushing against the strip of bare skin between his top and skirt. The skirt thing was weird… drafty, but the warm press of Sam’s fingers sent little static sparks through him and a blush heated his cheeks, spread down his chest, and he was once again very aware of the fact that he currently had boobs… and a pussy instead of a dick. 

This was bad, his mind raced like a cartoon character running in place before his thoughts finally caught traction with the ground and lunged forward. He wasn’t him, wasn’t in his own body. He was somehow in the body of Sam’s girlfriend? 

Of all the bodies in all the world, I had to end up in this one?

But Sam hadn’t kissed him, he’d kissed his girlfriend, who’s birthday just happened to be the same as Dean’s? Which was… okay, yeah, that was weird as fuck. But she’d obviously just blown out the candles on her cake, which would have been the same time that he’d had swallowed down his own wishful thoughts.

Shit. He swallowed again. Shit, shit, shit.

“I, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I’ll be right back.” He said, trying not to show how unsettled he was at sounding like a chick, reminding himself that he looked like a chick, sort of was one right now. He took a breath, and told himself to play it calm and poker face the situation.

“You okay?” Sam asked, his eyes squinting slightly the way they did when he was concerned, or getting suspicious, his thumb rubbing against Dean’s skin, sending those sparks flying all through him again.

Oh, so not good. This is bad.

“Yeah, good, I just need to go to the bathroom.” Dean smiled as he felt for pockets in the clothes he was wearing, but found none. Where would she keep her cellphone? “Did you see where I put my purse?”

“Yeah, it’s right over there.” Sam looked at an end table by the sofa in the adjoining room.

“Thanks!” Dean said as he broke away from Sam and grabbed the purse. 

Taking stock of his surroundings, it looked like they were in a two-story house. It was a little worn and run down, but decorated in a way that practically screamed college kids lived here. Probably a rental near campus, it had that vibe. It was also older, which meant that the bathroom was likely upstairs. He unzipped the purse as he went up the stairs, and thanked whatever luck he had that there was a little flip phone tucked inside. He found the bathroom and was punching in his number as he closed the door.

~~~

“Happy Birthday, tooooooo, yooooouuuuuuuuu!!!!”

Jessica thought of a wish and blew out the candles on her cake, then blinked and started coughing at a sudden burning in her throat. She must have inhaled the candle smoke. While her eyes were closed the room gave a lurch and she was suddenly sitting down. 

A loud solid thunk made her flinch as she opened her eyes. Dark amber liquid sloshed in a thick bottomed glass that had just dropped onto a heavily varnished wood bartop a few inches below an outstretched man’s hand in front of her. Whiskey and the lingering, stale ashtray smell of old cigarette smoke hit her all at once. Looking quickly to her right, to see who had dropped the glass, she found that the man's arm that was connected to the hand that’d dropped the glass, was attached to her? 

“What the…?” The voice that came out was not hers. It wasn’t even close. It was a man’s voice, with a timbre that resonated deep in her chest. She covered her mouth with her hand but then immediately jerked her hand away at the feel of a man’s fingers touching her lips and the feel of scratchy stubble against her fingertips. Her mouth tasted like whiskey, that’s what was burning in her throat, like she’d just taken a drink from the glass in front of her.

She looked down at herself and saw a broad, flat chest filling out an oversized leather jacket with a thermal shirt underneath, and long, muscular, denim-clad legs. Her hands were thicker, wider, than they should be, with short-trimmed nails, and a few scrapes and scabbed cuts across the knuckles.

Over the sound of Guns ’n’ Roses’ Welcome to the Jungle she could hear a couple of voices talking not too far away. She looked around. She was in some ratty, hole-in-the-wall bar that smelled like a lifetime of regret and spilled beer. There were only a few other people. An older couple that looked like they’d probably gotten here on a Harley, were sitting down the bar to her left, they were the ones talking, but they weren’t close enough for Jess to hear what they were saying. And there was a middle-aged guy who looked like he might be a trucker way down off to her right. He was drinking a Budwiser and staring into space, lost in his own thoughts. There was also a bartender busying himself with restocking the bar. He was probably in his mid-20’s, with a neatly trimmed beard, blue plaid flannel shirt that was buttoned up but not tucked into his well-fitting, black jeans that were rolled into wide cuffs above hiking boots. She watched him move some bottles around on the shelf along the wall and realized that there was a mirror there that ran the entire length of the bar.

Slowly standing and looking ahead into the mirror, she watched as a guy stood up and stared back at her. He had short, sandy brown hair, spiked a little in the front, and big light colored eyes. The dim lighting and collection of various neon in the room made it hard to tell if they were blue, gray, or green, but they were wide. He looked like he was also in his 20’s, handsome, really handsome, but no one she’d ever seen before. She raised her hand and watched as the guy in the reflection did too. She touched her face… his face? He mirrored the movement. 

“What the hell?” She said, in a voice that seemed to fit the reflection.

“Everything okay, man?” 

It took a few seconds to realize that the bartender was looking at her, that he’d been speaking to her.

“Uh?” What in the hell was happening? Was she dreaming? Was this some weird hallucination? A byproduct of having a stroke? Had she somehow fallen and hit her head? “I don’t know…”

The bartender’s brow furrowed. “Something wrong with the drink?”

She looked down at the glass again. Should she say anything? Say something to get some help? What would she say? Her heart was racing. Maybe she should slow down, take a minute before letting the looming panic take over. “No, it’s uh, it’s fine, it’s good. I’m good. Um, how long have I been here?”

“I don’t know, maybe about an hour.” He poured water in a glass and sat it down in front of her, next to the whiskey. “I know the bourbon here isn’t that great,” he shrugged and gestured around as if that explained it, “maybe take it easy?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m okay. Just had a weird… um sort of deja vu thing for a minute there.” 

He nodded at her and moved away down the bar again.

Okay, something is going on, but it’ll be okay, I can figure this out, she thought as she sat back down on the stool. That’s when she noticed the hard press of a wallet in one of her pockets. Pulling it out and flipping it open revealed a driver’s license with her reflection’s photo on it. 

“James Page, huh?” She said quietly to herself as she looked through the rest of the wallet. There were a few credit cards, about a hundred and fifty dollars in cash, and a condom… classy. She looked at the ID again, it listed his birthday as 01-24-1979, “What?”

Okay, so today was also his birthday. That felt too coincidental to be a coincidence. 

Absently, she took a drink of water. If this was a dream, it was the most mundanely detailed dream she’d ever had, the water tasted like chlorinated tap water. She started to pull one of the credit cards out when a cell phone sitting on the bar in front of her, had that been sitting there this whole time, started to ring with an obnoxious metal guitar riff. She grabbed it up and looked at the caller ID. It was her own cell number!

Quickly answering she said, “Hello?”

“Please tell me your name is Jessica.” a woman’s voice said.

“Um…”

“My name is De… uh… James Page, that’s my phone you’re talking on, please tell me that you’re Jessica Moore?” 

It sounded weird when heard from the wrong end of a phone call, but she recognized her own voice speaking back to her.

“Yeah, yes, that’s me… what’s happening?”

The woman on the other end of the phone gave a loud sigh before continuing. “Thank god, it’s just a straight swap. Okay, so, this would normally sound really unbelievable, but you already seem kinda freaked so I’m guessing you’ve noticed that we seem to have switched bodies.”

“But, I mean how is that, how is this even possible?” Her heart was pounding in her ears. This is crazy, it’s crazy…

“Did you make a wish when you blew out your birthday candles, Jessica?”

“What? Why is that important?”

“Well, you see, today is my birthday too. Happy Birthday by the way. And I uh, I made a wish right before I opened my eyes in your body. So I’m wondering, since I know you’d just blown out the candles on your cake, did you make a wish too?”

“I… I did, yeah.”

“Okay, good. What did you wish for, exactly?”

She looked around to make sure no one was paying attention to her conversation before replying. “I wished I knew more about my boyfriend’s family.”

“Huh. Okay. Who’s, uh, who’s your boyfriend? What’s his name?”

“Sam… Winchester. Do you know him?”

There was a slight pause. “No. But I’m guessing he’s the really tall guy, soulful eyes, needs a haircut?”

“He doesn’t… I like his hair, but, yeah I guess that sounds like him.”

“Hmm. Okay.”

“Wait, what did you wish for?”

There was a longer pause before James continued, “To find someone I haven’t seen in a while. I dunno maybe they’re around here somewhere? Where am I?”

“Palo Alto. Uh, that’s in California. Sorry, maybe you already knew that. Where am I?”

“Missouri, kinda middle of nowhere honestly. Sorry about that. Look this may not have anything to do with our specific wishes, right? Maybe things just got mixed up because we both made wishes at the exact same time? I don’t really know how all this Freaky Friday stuff works. But with any luck it’s temporary and everything will be back to normal tomorrow.”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “How is this even real?”

“I don’t know. Look, there’s a set of car keys in my right front pocket, they’re to a black ‘67 Chevy Impala parked out front. It’s an automatic, can you drive?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, good. If you turn right out of the parking lot, go about a mile down the road to the Sleep EZ Motel, I’m checked into room 12. The room key is in my other pocket. My stuff is already inside and the room is paid up until the end of the week, so you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Just don’t hurt my car and don’t get me killed, okay?”

“Wait, that’s it? I’m just supposed to wait?”

“Unless you’ve got any other bright ideas?”

“What about Sam? My friends? What are you going to do?”

“Hopefully? Nothing. I’ll pretend to be you, promise not to get you hurt or screw up your life, okay? And like I said, with any luck this’ll all sort itself out in the morning.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Well, I guess we’ll deal with that tomorrow.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Hey, Jessica?”

“Yeah?”

“Tell me a little about yourself.”

~~~

Dean hung up the call and deleted it from the phone’s call history. When this was all over, the last thing he wanted was for there to be any way for this to get traced back to him. He tucked the phone back in Jessica’s purse and looked in the mirror. 

She was a hottie, Sammy had good taste. Long blonde hair, big blue eyes, full pouty lips, and with a body… Dean gave a quiet whistle. Then he looked around furtively, as if anyone else could see him in the bathroom and somehow suspect him of doing something pervy, but then he thought, fuck it, possession is 9/10ths of the law, right?

Biting his bottom lip and pulling his shirt up, exposing a lacy bra and a really nice set of tits. Cupping them with his hands, feeling their weight, massaging them a bit and feeling his nipples get hard in response was hot enough but looking in the mirror was almost too much, like watching porn that you could actually feel. Until he caught his own stare, the face of some girl that he’d just spoken to on the phone looking back at him, and it hit home that this was someone else’s body that he was a guest in.

“Ah, shit.” he said to the reflection and pulled the shirt back down, smoothed it into place. He looked down, thinking about how weird it felt to not have a dick. He looked at the toilet reflected behind him. Maybe he should at least try to pee while he was in here. 

“Sorry, Jessica, but somehow I don’t think either of us is going to be able to avoid peeing all night.” It took him longer than he'd anticipated, what’s so hard about peeing after all, but there was the confusing clothing and then the wiping, and new sensations that came with that, which he definitely tried to not pay too much attention to, and then the readjustment of the clothing. 

When he was done and verified in the mirror that he looked normal, you know, for being someone completely different, he took a step towards the door and froze with his hand on the doorknob.

Okay, you can do this. Just go downstairs and pretend to be a girl. How hard can that be? Just go pretend to be Sam’s girlfriend. He’s only, like, the smartest guy you’ve ever known, who’s been trained since he was a kid to notice when a situation isn’t right, when someone isn’t themselves, when they’re actually a monster… Fuck. 

He took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door. No, it’s cool. You’re cool. You can do this. You’ve bluffed your way through more dangerous situations with less information to go off of. And Jessica told you enough to fake it for one night. It’s just one night…

“Jess,” Sam was looking at him when he came down the stairs, his face lit up despite a shadow of concern. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Dean smiled and walked towards him.

As he got within reach, Sam wrapped one arm around Dean and pulled him in snug against his side. Then Sam leaned in and kissed the top of his head, just like Dean used to do before Sam had the audacity to get taller than him. Dean didn’t need to fake his smile but then a wave of guilt threatened to well up, he thinks you’re her, and he had to look down, swallowing thickly. Sam gently squeezed him in a one armed hug.

When they were kids, Sam had been very touchy-feely, clingy, always in close contact with Dean, casual, almost unconscious, but now, unlike then, it seemed a lot less casual. Heat, of a sort that wasn’t just physical, flared up with every touch. And Dean could have convinced himself that it was just Jessica’s body responding in a sort of pavlovian way to a still newish lover. But the problem was, Dean knew better. 

Sam’s hands were huge and gentle and warm, so fucking warm, against his side, Jessica’s side, his arm, her arm, his back, not his, his hip… It was maddening but he just needed to play along, like it wasn’t destroying him. Over the years Dean had fine tuned his resolve to push all of this away and shut it up behind a door marked “Stuff You Don’t Get to Have", and now, with a series of simple touches, Sam had unknowingly jimmied the lock and opened the door. Sam was always so good at opening doors.

The summer between Sam’s junior and senior years of high school, before the Stanford bomb had been dropped on their lives, John had been chasing down yet another lead on what had killed mom. Dean had no idea what it was, where he went, because he’d given him practically no information, which was beyond frustrating, but kinda par for the course. But John had left them with Bobby because it had been on his way, apparently. 

While they were there, Dean helped Bobby fix cars, and what they couldn’t fix, they’d strip down for parts. Sam had gotten a job at a restaurant washing dishes. It was grueling in the heat and he’d be reeking of garbage from taking out the trash at the end of the night. But Dean would always be there, waiting to drive him back to Bobby’s. He’d have a cold beer open and waiting for Sam when he was showered and in clean clothes. More often than not, they’d watch a movie on the tv, choosing from Bobby’s collection of vhs tapes. They’d take over Bobby’s couch, sprawling and slowly gravitating towards each other, leaning together and laughing over what they were watching. They kept their voices quiet so as to not wake Bobby, who inevitably fell asleep in his armchair or was already up in bed. Sam had been more relaxed and at ease than he had been in a couple of years.

Life was simple and Dean felt just about as free as he could ever remember feeling, without the weight of expectations, there in that safe place and time.

When John came back he was short-tempered and easily bristled. Things between John and Sam, always rough, had gotten steadily worse. John was harder on them both, trying to establish his authority, which only made Sam withdraw when dad was around. 

Sam started talking about leaving together, just going somewhere and getting real jobs, the kind that paid in cash instead of scars. But Dean wouldn’t think about it, well, he wouldn’t let Sam think that he was thinking about it. Kept putting it off, until it was too late and Sam was leaving for real, full ride to fucking Stanford, and one last attempt to get Dean to come with him. He’d pulled Dean aside while he was packing, held onto his hand like they were still little kids, “Come with me.” 

“What?” 

“You don’t have to stay here, you can come to California…” 

“I can’t just leave.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because Dad…” 

“Dad is going to self-destruct, Dean, this life is going to kill him and if you stay… if you stay,” Sam’s eyes were swimming in unshed tears that he swallowed back before continuing, “You don’t have to stay. You can do anything, Dean, anything.” 

And Dean almost believed that, for one long torturous moment, looking at his brother, the only person that stood any chance of convincing him to break away from his dad, from this life, Dean could almost see it. Sam pulled him closer, slid his hands behind Dean’s neck and rested their foreheads together, silently begging. And that door in Dean’s mind cracked a bit and threatened to break open. Sam didn’t want all that, didn’t want… no. Dean slammed the door closed and locked it. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Dean took a deep breath and placing his hands on Sam’s shoulders did the hardest thing he’d ever done, he pushed Sam back enough so he could clearly see his face and said, “I’m not going.” 

Shock, grief, embarrassment, hurt and anger all seemed to flash across Sam’s face at once, but it was the anger that stayed long after the others had been packed away. The anger was what Dean had seen when he closed his eyes that night, thinking about Sam on a Greyhound to California.

But here, now, he leaned in and closed his eyes, drinking in the feel of being next to his brother for the first time in years. He breathed in and could smell Sam,even though his mind was having trouble processing the scent. It was Sam, he smelled just like he always did, but it was like this body, which didn’t have the same sensory memory of a childhood spent together in the Impala and rundown motels, processed the scent through different filters, all of which were good, all of which lit up like fireworks with each breath, and shot that giddy, new love/lust feeling through him mixing with his memories.

Sam’s hand was curled loosely around Dean’s, Jessica’s, hip, his thumb resting on the waistband of his skirt again, long fingers flexing in and gently pressing into the hollow of his hip bone, and it was doing things that were steadily eroding what tenuous self-respect Dean had. 

Sam would kill him if he found out that this was him and not Jessica. Shit, maybe he should have said something right away. 

“Wait, so if the wish is what switched you then that means that when I kissed… Dean, you kissed me back!”

Yeah, no, too late for that now, he just needs to make sure that Sam never finds out.

They made small talk and drank. Jessica was a lightweight, which Dean found out as he was finishing off his third beer. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a room lurch that hard on three beers. He stumbled slightly as he stood up to get another. Sam reached out a steadying hand.

“Whoa. Easy there.”

Dean laughed it off, “I got it, I’m good.. Anyone ever tell you that you worry too much?” Dean said, softening it with a smile that may have been a bit more shmoopy than he’d intended, but it seemed to do the trick as Sam held up his hand in an “I give up” sort of gesture and let Dean duck into the kitchen.

There were photos stuck all over the fridge, and Dean recognized several of the people from tonight, including Sam. He studied them all while he drank a glass of water before grabbing a couple more beers from the fridge. There was a bottle opener on the coffee table and, sitting back down next to Sam on the sofa, Dean popped the top off one beer and sat it in front of Sam before popping the top of the other for himself.

Sam huffed an amused breath through his nose. Dean looked at him, took in the bemused look and asked, “What?”

“It’s nothing, just,” Sam laughed and shook his head, “you just reminded me of someone.”

Shit. “Oh? Who?”

Before Sam could answer, the conversation in the room reached shrill levels when Bria announced that her boyfriend Brad had proposed to her.

“Jess, I’m sorry, I wasn’t going to say anything because tonight’s your night, but…” the bottle blonde held out her left hand to show off a glittering diamond. 

Everyone spent the next half an hour or so congratulating Bria and Dean tried his best to play at being interested. He was worried that that somehow he’d given himself away but Sam was smiling at him again, all dimples and teeth and just pure fucking sunshine, and Dean inwardly breathed a sigh of relief and smiled back. He was simultaneously too drunk and way too sober for this situation.

~~~

Jess should have left and found the motel, but what was she going to do in some guy’s random motel room until morning? Pace around and worry? Staying put seemed like an easier option, doing nothing usually was, at least for now. Absentmindedly she picked up the glass of bourbon and took a sip. It burned a bit but tasted surprisingly okay. She thought that James obviously drank the stuff and his taste buds must be used to it. She kept sipping at it. 

This couldn’t be happening, it had to be a dream. 

She realized that she had to pee. She’d had to for a little while now but had been unconsciously putting off dealing with it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the sort of thing that could be ignored forever. Looking around, she spotted the restrooms. She turned around on the stool and stood up, ready to be wobbly after drinking and being in someone else’s skin. But she felt solid, and strong. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar again it occurred to her that she was going to have to use the men’s room. 

This was most likely just a dream, she could do this. 

Luckily, since the bar was practically empty, the bathroom was too. Stall or urinal, that was the question. She opted for a stall, just in case someone came in, it felt less weird that way. Closing the door behind her, she stared down at the toilet before looking at the front of the jeans she was wearing. For the first time she thought about the fact that some guy was in her body and would probably have to pee at some point too. Ugh. 

Well, she could do this, it was just peeing, everyone does it, right? She unbuckled, unbuttoned and unzipped, then pulled the waistband of the boxer briefs away and down with her left hand while reaching in with her right. 

Okay, yeah, weird.

A couple moments later, she was washing her hands at the sink. That was definitely an experience, odd but kinda fun in a rather intrusive feeling way. 

She looked at her reflection, really studied it since she wasn’t being watched. She smiled, frowned, and tried a whole range of emotions. Damn, this guy was attractive. Big green eyes with lashes she would have killed for, freckles, perfect lips, and he was tall too, although not as tall as Sam. And he was in great condition, not like one of those guys that works out in a gym all the time, but strong and lean, solid. His hands were callused, knuckles scarred, like he worked with his hands. 

“Who are you?” She asked as she looked in the mirror again before leaving the bathroom.

Sitting back down on the barstool, she caught the bartender’s attention. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Jeremy.”

She nodded. “Can I get another, Jeremy?” and she tapped the empty bourbon glass with the silver ring on her right hand before sliding it forward.

He nodded, grabbed a bottle and poured a generous amount in the glass. “You feeling better?” he asked as he slid the glass back towards her.

She nodded, “Eh. It’s been a weird night.”

“Not the best birthday?”

“No. I was supposed to spend it with my boyf…” she stopped herself suddenly and tried to switch gears, “I had plans, that, no offense, didn’t include this fine establishment.” Shit, she’d almost outed this guy that she didn’t even know. Maybe he was into guys, but maybe not, how would she know, and it was always better to be safe than sorry when literally walking in someone else’s shoes.

Jeremy, if he noticed the slip, didn’t give any indication of being bothered by it. He leaned on one elbow against his side of the bar. “Are you traveling for work or something?”

She looked at him, honestly not sure how to answer that question. She knew she had a room at a motel nearby, but why? 

Before she could answer, Jeremy continued, “I mean, there’s not a whole lot of here here, you know? This is not really a destination. And,“ he leaned a little closer and spoke in a more conspiratorial tone, “you’re like an eleven compared to the locals.” He nodded at the few other patrons and cracked a smile.

Okay, so maybe he had picked up on her little slip, but she didn’t think he was a threat, so she just laughed it off and took a sip of her drink.

~~~

Later, standing in the kitchen trying to follow some random friend group drama that could have almost been a telenovela storyline, Sam had come up behind Dean and wrapped him in a hug, hands crossed over his waist, his face nuzzled into his hair behind his ear. Dean’s eyes closed as a delightful shiver ran through him and settled between his legs.  

“Ugh, get a room, you two!” Sam’s friend Brady said, teasingly.

Without looking, Sam grabbed a handful of chips out of the open bag on the counter and threw them right at the guy’s face, who actually managed to catch one in his mouth to raucous applause.

“Come on.” Sam breathed, low and quiet in Dean’s ear, and threading their fingers together, steered him out of the room.

“What? Where?”

“It’s getting late and I promised, didn’t I?” 

Dean didn’t know how to respond because he had no idea what Sam was talking about. 

~~~

Jessica sipped at the bourbon, not sure if she enjoyed the taste or not but the smooth burn was sort of growing on her. She sipped and she thought about what she should, or even could, do. Trapped in a stranger’s body, in an unknown town, states away from anyone she knows, what were her options? She could go find the motel room that matched the key in her pocket, and what? Watch crappy motel tv until she falls asleep in some stranger’s bed, hoping that she wakes up in her own body in the morning? That honestly sounded depressing as fuck. So she stalled, and sipped, and sat, and tried not to completely freak out.

~~~

His little brother was all hands, huge, long, spidery, gentle hands. Hands that covered so much, especially on Jessica’s smaller body. He smoothed over his… her long hair, down his… dammit, her arms, down her back. Eyes shining and bright, open as if to not miss anything, to catch every reaction as he walked backwards into a room to the right of the bathroom, Sam finally stepped back out of Dean’s space enough to let the warm flickering glow light up his face. The room was lit by half a dozen candles, on the dresser, the nightstand, on top of the bookshelf. Dean’s eyes went wide. Oh. 

Oh no. This was, shit, this was… he looked at Sam. This was bad, he told himself. He couldn’t, it was too much, too far. 

Sam, still smiling, was now a little unsure, a little embarrassed, “Too much?” His hand was rubbing gently up and down on Dean’s back, Jessica’s back, fuck, like he just couldn’t stop touching her.

Dean tried to say something, screaming internally at himself to find a way out of this, screwing things up between Jessica and Sam would be better than… He swallowed and opened his mouth, piecing together some sort of excuse, but all thought evaporated as Sam bit his bottom lip, all dimples and glinting eyes, and leaned in. Dean didn’t mean to smile, it was a reflex, a reaction to the extreme absurdity of the situation, that’s all, it wasn’t because his heart fucking swelled at seeing Sam all lit up and happy, looking at him like that. 

Oh, I’m a bad, bad person.

He couldn’t look away from Sam’s mouth. And then Sam was too close to see and he nosed into his hair, speaking right into his ear, warm breath sending shivers through him, “I promised you, tonight is all about you. I want to make you feel so good, see how many times I can make you come.”

And Dean felt hellfire flare up through him, burning his cheeks, making his thighs and inner muscles clench around a deep needful longing. A gasp escaped, unbidden, from his open mouth. 

You do this and you really are the scumbag you’ve always felt like. This is the line, right here, right now. 

But this was something that he would never get to have normally, only this freaky occurrence giving him an impossible chance to have everything he’d ever wanted, even if just for one night, even if under duplicitous circumstances, in someone else’s body, even if it meant burning in Hell eternally for it. 

One of Sam’s thumbs brushed lightly over Dean’s lips, as his fingers curled into his hair, turning his head and mouthing at his ear, nipping at and rolling his earlobe between his teeth before tracing kisses along the underside of his jaw. Dean breathed out a shiver that went all the way down to his knees. Sam kissed right up to the corner of his open mouth.

Dean didn’t believe Hell was real, not really, not an actual place like the bible thumpers would have you believe, but this, even ignoring every other horrible thing he’d ever done, this would surely damn him… but maybe it would be worth it. He could have this, and Sam never needed to know. 

He turned his head just a little and caught Sam’s lips with his own. 

~~~

With the bar being as quiet as it was, Jeremy took to making small talk as the evening wore on, nothing heavy, nothing too personal, just talking about sports teams (luckily a topic she knew a fair amount about) and cars (which she didn’t but luckily most guys didn’t take much encouragement to go on about that sort of thing without much more than a few interested prompts), but he was nice and kind of funny. It was better than stewing alone in her thoughts.

By the time Jess had had another bourbon, man did this James guy have a higher tolerance than she did, she had loosened up a lot. 

So what if she’d probably experienced a psychotic break or something and was now trapped in this weird-ass dream, or maybe worse that she was really stuck in some dude’s body on her birthday and was now drinking alone in some shitty bar. She blinked, god was this what James’ life was like? Hopefully this was just a bad day or something. She at least had a party with all her college friends and Sam… Sam. Shit, James better be playing it cool, like he’d said he would, and not be doing anything to fuck things up between her and Sam.

~~~

For a moment, when he kissed Sam, SammySam oh fuck SAM, he’d forgotten all about his hands, like they didn’t even exist, like nothing existed outside of the bursts of confused chaos in his mind and how kissing Sam seemed to short circuit everything. 

Good! No, no! I can’t. Stop. Ohhh god, right, this is right. Can’t. Fuck, finally!

Every part of his borrowed body felt like it was blushing, like he should be legit glowing, and there was this warm, aching, wetness that he was suddenly very aware of between his legs. It was a lot like how he normally felt when turned on, just not as focused, deeper inside and suffused throughout his body. He also found that he was very, very aware of his tits, every move, each breath as they lifted and fell, the way the fabric of the bra and shirt moved, every touch against Sam, he could feel all of it, and was aware of it all at once, and yet craved more. Sam’s hands were in his hair, cradling his head as they kissed. His lips tasted like home. 

You can touch him!

And just like that, a lifetime of suppressed impulses and denied wants let loose as he placed his hands on Sam’s sides. Lightning-like desire, in all its terrifying glory, zapped through him, along his fingers and up his arms at the contact. Sam was solid, still lean and lanky with youth, but no longer a kid, not his little brother. Big. 

It wasn’t like Dean never touched him, hell, he’d probably touched him more than anyone else. But that was different, it was checking on him, cleaning him up, bandaging and mending, little kid snuggles and hugs, holding his hand as they crossed the street, shoulders leaning together as they sat and joked quietly, just the two of them. This, though, this, was the edge of the map. Here, there be monsters, and his pulse pounded like he was on a hunt.

He ran his hands up over Sam’s chest, feeling the lines of the muscles beneath his shirt as Sam slid one of his hands down Dean’s back, pulling him closer, pressing them together. He didn’t stop at his waist this time, his hand continuing down over Dean’s ass to cup and squeeze. Dean moaned, just a little and in a way that he hadn’t expected, and his hands moved up across Sam’s shoulders and neck and into his hair, fingers tangling in his nape and pulling Sam down, or himself up, it didn’t matter which as long as they somehow got closer. Dean instinctively wrapped his legs around Sam’s hips when he lifted him up, one hand under Dean’s ass, across the back of his thighs, the other still cradling the back of his head. Sam shifted, holding Jessica’s weight easily and Dean wondered if Sam had gotten strong enough to lift his own actual body the same way. That thought made his breath hitch.

Sam pushed the door shut with one foot and then took three strides to cross the room before he dropped them both down onto the bed. Sam caught himself with his elbows, so his weight didn’t come down on Dean all at once as he bounced, a laugh bubbling out of Dean, met with a smile from Sam.

Sam looked at him for a moment, brushing hair from Dean’s face, Jessica’s face, Dean reminded himself. Sam was looking at Jessica like that, like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and like he wanted to eat her up. Jealousy at the realization sparked in Dean, but it was quickly quelled because Sam looking at Jessica like that meant that Dean could look back through her in a way he never could through his own eyes.

He took in Sam’s bright, clever, magic-colored eyes, and his pointed nose that made him look fox-like and clever. That mole beside his nose, that Dean always wanted poke or to kiss, depending on the day. His hair that, from this angle, spread around his face like a dark halo and reminded Dean of that photo of Jim Morrison, the one where his arms were spread and his chest was bare. He looked like the hero of some Greek myth and he was painfully beautiful.

Then Sam was kissing him again, little nibbling kisses that wandered along his jaw, sending delicious shivers through him. Sam’s hand found the bare skin at his waist, fingers spread out across his stomach, up under his shirt to his ribs as he kissed his way down Dean’s throat.

Dean leaned his head to the side, stretching his neck as he arched up into Sam’s touch. Sam’s fingertips traced along the bottom of his bra, brushed the underside of his breast. Holy shit. 

He’d gotten so caught up in the fact that this was Sam, SamSammy, that he’d almost completely glossed over the fact that he was in a woman’s body and was going to experience sex, with Sam, in a body with girl parts! What was, possibly, most disturbing was how onboard he was for this ride. Like, if he was completely honest with himself, the Sam thing had always been there, usually it was forcibly shoved into the furthest, deepest, darkest corner of his brain, and locked down tight, but sometimes it escaped and made it almost to the surface before he’s wrestle it back down again and did his best to ignore it. But beyond an occasional fleeting thought about what the woman he was with was feeling as he went down on her, thrust into her, well, he’d never actually fantasized about actually feeling whatever they felt. The prospect was surprisingly thrilling.

And this isn’t gay (or incest) if it’s Jessica’s body. That thought sent a cold shiver through him, followed very closely by a rancid tendril of self-disgust. What the hell was the matter with him? 

But then Sam was cupping his breast, warm hand giving a massaging little squeeze, the nipple genty pinched in the V between his thumb and index finger, sending sparks of pleasure through him and distracting him from his thoughts. Dean had always liked having his nipples played with during sex, well, he really liked having everything played with during sex, but now, though? It was just so much more.

Sam pushed his shirt up, kissed him through the fabric of the bra, before giving a little, demanding “Off.” and worked both the shirt and bra off, undoing the back clasp one handed, that’s my boy. And then his mouth was on him again. Dean’s hands were on Sam’s shoulders, then in his hair as he lavished attention on his tits. And, yeah, definitely an area deserving of all the attention Dean was prone to give because it felt fucking awesome. Before the sensations could become too much, Sam would shift his focus to the other side, kissing and sucking, biting (which felt amazing) and pulling little gasps out of Dean.

Dean squirmed a bit, suddenly desperate for some sort of friction between his legs. Like he’d sensed it, Sam ran one hand down, using little more than the weight of his hand, over the fabric of his skirt, and rubbed, pushing a bit more with his middle and ring fingers, curving with his body, right down between Dean’s legs. It wasn’t quite like having his dick rubbed, the feeling a little more muted, more spread out. But the warmth that spread through him felt familiar as did the desire it inflamed. And he pushed his hips against Sam’s hand seeking more pressure.

The biggest difference Dean felt was where he normally would have wanted to push into his partner, to thrust into them, all he wanted now, the desire that consumed his mind, was that he needed something inside him, stretching him, filling him. This hollow, wanting, ache was new but made him unbearably warm and desperate. And he wondered, not for the first time, about how much of it was coming from Jessica’s muscle memory, because while it was new to him, it felt so perfectly right and natural in this body.

With a final playful pull on one of his nipples, sucking hard before letting it drop and the weight of the breast bounce back against Dean’s chest, Sam kissed his way down across his stomach. Jessica was a bit ticklish, it would seem, because the light scrape of Sam’s stubble sent delightful tremors through Dean. Not enough to make him laugh or pull away, but enough to make him smile.

This is crazy. This is crazy. This can’t be real. I must be dreaming. This is some weirdass fever dream. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Sam reached the waistband of Jessica’s skirt, kissing and tonguing over Dean’s belly button as he worked loose the zipper and slid the fabric down, chasing it with his mouth. Dean lifted his hips so Sam could slide it the rest of the way down and off his legs, leaving him in just delicate, barely there, panties. They were silky and pink and Dean flashed back hard to six years ago, to Rhonda Hurley looking at him wearing her panties like she wanted to eat him alive, a look that was mirrored now in Sam’s eyes as he slowly looked up his… Jessica’s body. Dammit. 

That look wasn’t Dean’s, it wasn’t for him. Sam was looking at Jessica like that. Fuck he shouldn’t do this. He needed to say something, stop this somehow.

“Sam…” He pleaded, but it came out too breathless and wanting, needing, and Sam smiled and leaned down, placed a kiss right on the silky pink stretched over the center of all the warmth Dean was feeling and hummed against him.

“Hmm?” and then he kissed a little lower and looked up from under his bangs as he gently stroked one hand up Dean’s thigh, fingers spreading so wide, hot and thrilling. He placed another kiss, this time below the curve of where Dean could see, so he couldn’t see Sam’s mouth as it pressed the fabric right into the wetness between his legs. Sam nosed in then and breathed deep. “All this for me?” 

Dean bit down on his bottom lip, part of his mind still desperately trying to get control of this situation, to somehow, miraculously pull back before it was too late, when Sam looked up and locked eyes with him as he slowly, gently, bit the fabric covered mound, worrying it so slowly with his teeth before saying, in a voice deeper than Dean had ever heard him use, “God I want to eat you up. Will you let me? Let me just,” he licked, his tongue spread wide, right up over the now sodden crotch of those pink panties, “devour you?”

And the last vestiges of Dean’s attempts to be a better person crumbled. If he was going to hell, and he was definitely going, then he was going to make damn sure that he got the maximum value out of the trip. 

“Yeah.” he said as he reached out and ran his fingers down Sam’s hair, his thumb brushing Sam’s cheek as Sam, SamMySammyMine, smiled his sharp, clever, mischievous smile and pulled the panties off and settled back between Dean’s legs, bending Dean’s knees up and over Sam’s shoulders. One hand going up Dean’s side, his long arm easily allowing him to cup around one breast, while the other spread, fingers splayed, across the tight skin below Dean’s navel, pressing down with gentle pressure to still the squirming Dean hadn’t even realized he was doing. 

~~~

The last of the other customers paid up his tab and left. Jessica threw back the rest of her drink.

“What do I owe you?” she asked as she stood up to pull James’ wallet out of his pocket. The gravity in the room lurched violently to the left and she had to catch herself by clutching the edge of the bar. She barked out a laugh and sat back down on the stool. “Whoa.”

“Easy there.” Jeremy said. “No rush.” 

He slid another glass of water over to her with a smile. She nodded and gratefully took a drink. It was cold and even though it still tasted a little too much like chlorine to be called good, she knew it would help.

“It’s cool, take your time, I’ve got a bunch of things to do to close up so you don’t have to leave just yet.” He said with a smile. 

~~~

Sam’s attention focused between Dean’s spread legs, nosing into the trimmed little bush before licking along the folds of his pussy. His tongue, a wide and warm pressure, different from anything Dean had experienced before. It wasn’t like having his dick licked, which felt good right from the start. But the act was insanely intimate and definitely felt good, and the fact that it was Sam, samsamsam, made him shiver. And then the tip of Sam’s tongue dipped in and flicked across Dean’s clit and there it was! A burst of pleasure followed immediately by a desire for more. 

A keening slipped from Dean’s throat, so much higher pitched than felt right to him. Looking down, all he could see was Sam’s shaggy brown hair and his fox-like eyes, pupils wide in the darkened room, looking back at him. Sam slid his hand down, long fingers spreading Dean open. Dean felt the air stir between his legs, cooling around the edges, and he realized just how wet he was. Sam licked again, taking his time, dipping in and flicking across before gently kissing that swollen bud of nerves and then doing it again, and again. Dean gasped when he used his teeth, normally something, as a guy, that would be a complete no-go, but the nipping and nibbling here felt good, really good, primal and hungry, and Dean wanted more. 

Sam pushed his tongue in, deeper each time, as he rubbed Dean’s clit, pressing and circling, circling and pressing, sucking, biting, again and again until Dean’s hands had to move because Sam was holding his hips still, so he reached down and brushed Sam’s hair back, so he could see him better, then stayed in his hair, just holding, trying not pull. And his other hand went to his breast, kneading and then pinching the sensitive nipple. Everything combined and built up like a wave swelling, growing more and more, frantic, urgent, faster, and then he was pulling on Sam’s hair, which made him groan into Dean, the vibrations sending Dean crashing over. Sam continued to gently massage Dean’s clit, while fucking into him with his tongue, as wave after wave rolled through Dean. 

Just as Dean was able to breathe again, Sam shifted around a bit so that he had both hands working, the one still spreading Dean open and working his clit in slow circles, while he pressed first one finger then two into him. 

There was a punk rock girl out near Salt Lake, what was her name? Brenda something, shit he couldn’t think, but she’d had a thing for sticking her finger in her partner’s ass when they fucked her, and while she’d been enthusiastically into it, and it hadn’t been bad, it was weird, kinda good weird, but weird. It was nothing like this.

Sam leaned back in as he worked up a steady rhythm, and started tonguing and sucking his clit again. Dean was so sensitive it didn’t take long for him to feel everything building again. Sam had worked another finger in and curled them forward. It was a tried and true move that Dean had used on many, many occasions, and now he knew why it always worked so well, as he gasped and came hard, muscles fluttering hard around Sam’s hand.

“Samm… Sam,” remembering just in time, “please, oh fuck, mmm, I…”

“Hmm?”

“I need,” but he hesitated before voicing the rest, bit his bottom lip, was he really going to ask for it? From Sam? 

“What? What do you need, baby?” Sam asked, his voice lower than Dean had ever heard it, deep but tender and pressed right between his legs, and damn if that didn’t light something up on the switchboard in Dean’s head.

No one but Dean would ever know if he just asked for what he wanted. 

“Fuck me?” he said, quiet and unsure.

“Hmm, thought I’d stay here for a little longer, make you scream my name.” Sam slowly nosed in again and licked. “You taste so good.”

“Sam.”

Bright eyes staring up at him. “Mmm?”

“Are you really going to make me beg… on my birthday?”

Sam nodded as he nipped at the inner crease of Dean’s hip.

Dean let out a frustrated groan, “Please? Get up here and fuck me, Sam.”

Sam smiled, “Well, since you asked so nicely.” He sat back, pulled his shirt off and used it to wipe his hand and face before tossing it onto the floor. Shit, Sammy had filled out since the last time Dean had seen him and, reminding himself that he could look, he let his eyes linger on his brother’s torso. He realized he was mentally inventorying the scars he could see, there were no new ones, which was good. Sam’s belt buckle jangled a little as it came undone and he unbuttoned his jeans. Sam stood and pushed them down along with his underwear, black boxer briefs, and then was kicking them off to the side and slowly crawling back onto the bed. 

Holy shit! HIs baby brother was built like a Greek god! How often was he working out? He was all slick, cut muscle, long limbs, and… In what universe was it even remotely fair that his little (no longer the operative word) brother had gotten bigger than him, apparently in every way? Dean was not a small guy, over six feet and packing a generously sized dick that he’d never, not once, gotten any complaints about. In fact, he’d received more than enough compliments to give him a, possibly, over-inflated sense of pride. Dean had an amazing cock, that he knew how to use. It was a source of great joy for him. And, he soothed his ego, it was hard to get a proper sense of scale, not having access to his own hands. But then Sam was grinning at him with his wickedly clever eyes and bright, dimpled smile again and Dean felt himself smiling back, his cheeks flushing as Jessica’s body responded to a new wave of want.

Sam crawled up over Dean, stretching his long body and skimming, not quite touching, over him, supporting his weight on his knees and hands. Just as Sam zeroed in on his lips and when Dean anticipated he would kiss him, Sam kept stretching past, reaching over and easily sliding open then closing the nightstand drawer. When he pulled back, a condom packet held by a corner in his mouth, he dragged it lightly across Dean’s skin, tickling slightly and forcing a giggle out of him that Dean would cringe over later when he replayed the moment. Sam sat back on his heels and tore open the packet. A wild thought, a desire, flashed through Dean, causing his cheeks to burn. 

“Wait,” he said breathlessly.

Sam stopped and looked at him, concern overriding some of the confidence he’d shown just seconds before. But Dean was sitting up and reaching out, running his hand down Sam’s thigh as he smiled Jessica’s wide smile. 

“Just, let me…” and he slid his hand up, his gaze meeting his grasp as he stroked Sam’s length. Hot, velvety soft skin twitched in the circle of Jessica’s manicured fingers. Dean blinked slowly, his eyes threatening to close, to block out such a transgression, but he made himself look, burning the image into his memory. He licked his lips as he shifted so he could lean forward. He just needed to know… if he was here, if he was doing this, then he needed it all, there’d never be another chance. He rubbed his thumb through the drop of precum beaded up on the head of Sam’s cock, spreading it slick across the head, and then kissed there. He looked up to find Sam staring down, eyes dark, mouth open, a blush high on his cheeks like he was drunk, and Dean licked slowly, tasting as he stared up at him.

Dean had never gone down on a guy before, although he’d received plenty of propositions over the years. But he’d eaten out more than his fair share of women and every one had tasted different, each one unique and special and divine, and this really wasn’t much different from that. Salty, a little bitter, not bad, just intimate. And he’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a deep satisfaction to sucking the head of Sam’s cock into his mouth. Sam’s fingers slipped into Jessica’s hair, fingers spanning the width of her head and gently holding there, not pressing, not pulling, as he let out a slow breath. 

Dean reached up with his free hand and took the opened condom packet from Sam as he swirled his tongue against the vein on the underside of his cock. And then he pulled back and slid the condom down and gave it a couple slow pumps with his fist to make sure it was rolled all the way down. 

He sat up and crawled forward, capturing Sam’s bottom lip as he pressed against him. Sam’s hand let go of his hair and like earlier, he pulled Dean in like he weighed nothing, hands engulfing his hips as he settled Dean on his lap. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s neck, reveling in the feel of his tits crushed up against Sam’s chest and Sam’s erection hot and hard between them. His hips rubbed forward, like they were seeking friction on autopilot.

“Sam,” he keened.

Sam lifted him again and lined himself up and lowered Dean onto him. Dean’s eyes rolled closed as he stretched and was filled in a way he’d never even dreamed. He’d never be able to claim that again, he was sure he’d never get the perfect feeling of them fitting together like this out of his mind. And as his hips once again seemed more in control of things than he was, he gave some experimental grinds, and looked at Sam whose eyes were closed, his brow furrowed a little in concentration, and he looked… beautiful. 

“Sam?”

Sam opened his eyes, his pupils blown wide in the candlelight and a look of pure want on his face, and he was the most gorgeous thing that Dean had ever seen. He circled his hips, trying to find the leverage to do more when Sam lifted him again, easily taking Jessica’s weight in his arms and began to thrust up. As he repeated the movement, again and again, Dean let his head fall back, his eyes closing, Sam’s mouth kissing hungrily along his jaw and down his neck, teeth nipping, stubble on his chin rough, but never hurting, never bruising, no it was just enough to feel all the way down through to where they were connected. 

With his eyes closed and head tipped back, the weight of Jessica’s hair hanging down, bouncing with every forceful thrust, Dean could only hold on, losing himself in the sensations. Sam ran a hand up Dean’s back, his hand tangling in and gently but insistently pulling, causing Dean to arch further back. Sam kissed down, captured one of his nipples, his other hand sliding low across Dean hips, thumb finding and pressing into his clit and the combination of all those sensations pushed him up and over that cliff again. Being so full, having something… his brother’s cock, a thought that he really shouldn’t be so completely good with… inside him, for his muscles to squeeze, and with so much skin-on-skin contact for him to clutch onto, pushed everything up, and up, and over. 

When Dean could focus again, he lifted his head, eyes meeting Sam’s, Sam who was still fucking him, and holy hell if his (not so) little brother wasn’t a goddamn freight train. The thought brought a ridiculous swelling of pride with it, some misguided feeling that he’d had a hand in raising this absolute god of a man. Dean smiled, his mouth open with every breath that Sam pushed out of him, and he traced his fingers across Sam’s face, thumb dragging across his bottom lip before Dean leaned in and kissed him.

“Come on, Baby. Come for me? I want to feel you, come on.” he said in between kisses. Sam’s arms tightened around him, his pace speeding up. “ Come on, Sammy.” Dean breathed and he felt Sam’s body tense. He leaned back enough to see Sam’s face as he climaxed. Little aftershocks from Dean’s last orgasm were still pulsing through him as Sam twitched inside him. 

When their heavy breaths slowed down to contented sighs, Sam pulled out, removed the condom and tossed it in a small trash can by the nightstand and twisted the two of them so they could fall onto their sides on the bed, his arms still around Dean, facing each other. 

Sam brushed a thick lock of hair out of Dean’s face, his eyes alight with reflected, flickering candlelight. He was sweaty and his cheeks were still flushed and he looked contentedly fucked out and Dean couldn’t stop staring at him. 

A bemused smile flashed across Sam’s face after a moment. “What?” 

Dean didn’t have the words, so he just smiled with his borrowed face, hoping it conveyed the best part of the crazed tangle of things he was feeling. When Sam returned the smile, Dean leaned in and kissed him one last time before snuggling into his brother’s broad chest, his eyelids growing heavy.

Sam placed a kiss on the top of his head. “Happy birthday, Jess.”

Dean was glad that Sam couldn’t see his face because he knew the smile wasn’t reaching his eyes anymore.

Dean lay there until Sam’s breathing evened out into sleep. And then he steadfastly refused to give into the looming tidal wave of guilt that was threatening to drown him, closing his eyes, he breathed in the smell of Sam, letting all the memories it triggered carry him, finally, to sleep.

~~~

“So, I’m curious,” she asked, “you don’t seem too enthused about… wait, where are we again?”

Jeremy laughed, “Eastfield.”

“Right, right. You don’t seem too enthused about Eastfield. And you’re young, seem intelligent, so why…” she gestured around the bar. “You from here? Got family or something?”

“Nah, I mean, not exactly. I grew up near here. Went to college. While I was there, my dad got sick, cancer, so I came home to take care of him. And, I don’t know, after he passed I just didn’t go right back and now,” he shrugged as he moved glasses around, “I don’t know. I’m just sort of here because here feels as good as anywhere to be.” 

Jessica nodded and took a sip of water.

“What about you? You’ve been here all night and haven’t mentioned what you do for a living once.” Jeremy carried a crate of glasses into the back, Jessica could hear it being set down, and then he was back again, leaning up against the bar across from her. “Most people don’t shut up about their jobs when they get talking here. It’s just a safe topic, you know? Not too personal but something that eats up most of their lives. But you?” 

Jessica shrugged and smiled, taking another drink of water. Jeremy squinted his eyes a bit, pursed his lips.

“What if I guess?” He looked her up and down, clucking his tongue quietly. “A hit man for the Mafia? Is the Mafia still a thing?” He smiled.

She laughed, “I don’t know. But no, I’m not in the Mafia.” I think, she added internally.

Jeremy looked at her, watched her mouth as she smiled. “Are you a model or something… which as I’m saying it, sounds super cheesy.” he said with a bit of a blush rising high on his cheeks above his beard. He was flirting and she suddenly remembered that she wasn’t herself. He was flirting with the gorgeous guy who’d been drinking alone at his bar all evening. 

“I don’t really want to talk about what I do, it’s just not…” she shrugged and took another drink of water, licking her lips. The room was still spinning a bit and she felt all warm and fuzzy, like this was all a weird but pleasant dream.

Jeremy leaned forward onto his elbows, only a foot or so of distance between them now. “SInce I’m already kinda making a fool of myself… you are, you know… really hot and it seems like a crime against humanity for you to be alone on your birthday.” 

He had nice brown eyes, wide and clear and kind, and what should have been an overdone line came across as genuine. The only other guy she knew that could have pulled that off was Sam. Thinking of him caused a heavy lump of guilt to form in her stomach.

“And yet, here I am.” 

He slid one hand closer, fingertips just brushing the backs of her knuckles where her hand was still curled around the glass. 

She stared at his hand and thought about Sam, who was the best man she’d ever known, smart, sweet, funny, weirdly mysterious, how did he even know half the shit he knew? And she knew so little about his life, his childhood, just enough to know that it had been nomadic and traumatic. His mom had died when he was a baby, his dad hadn’t handled that well, and he had a brother, but he never wanted to talk about them. He was home, thinking he was with her (hopefully) if James wasn’t screwing everything up. But at the same time, the idea that Sam might not be able to tell that it wasn’t her… well, it rankled. 

She looked over Jeremy’s shoulder and saw James’ reflection looking back. Maybe it was the drinks, she thought as she shifted her gaze back to Jeremy, or the dream-like unrealness of the entire evening, but she slowly licked her lips thinking about what it would feel like to kiss a guy using someone else’s mouth, a man’s mouth? Would it feel different?

There was only one way to find out.

She pushed up and forward slightly as Jeremy leaned further across the bar. They both hesitated when there were only a couple of inches of space between them, giving the other a chance to back out. Shyness was never something that Jessica suffered from. Quite the opposite. Throughout her life she’d been accused of being too forward, too bold and daring, too aggressive when she wanted something. She knew she was impulsive, but YOLO, right? She slid her hand around the back of Jeremy’s neck and pulled him into a kiss.

The beard was something new to her. It was scratchy-soft and tickly in a way that was not entirely unpleasant. His lips were soft though and he knew what to do with them. After a moment, they broke apart.

“Hey, come around. I, uh, I want to give you something.” 

When she stood up this time she was steady. Walking around the bar, she felt a flush of excitement, like a spreading fire flowing from her cheeks, down her chest, and into her gut. She followed him through the doorway and into the back room where Jeremy turned and pushed her up against a wall with a big, laminated, OSHA poster taped to it. 

He was a couple inches shorter, so she had to tip her head down to meet his lips, a feeling so opposite of what she was used to that it added to the overall surrealness of the situation. And then he stepped even closer, one leg wedging between hers, pressing against her, his hands cupping her head, fingers rubbing into her scalp, such a different experience with James’ short hair, but pulling a pleased noise from somewhere deep in her chest. When his hips ground against hers, she was startled at the sensation. All that pooling warmth in her gut was suddenly rushing to her groin, focusing with growing insistence. She could feel Jeremy, already so hard, pressing back and the sensation left her breathless.

“Can I?” He tipped his head down as his hand skated over the front of her jeans, lightly tracing the bulge of her cock. Shit, she had a cock and this guy wanted to…

Okay, so she didn’t know if James was gay, or into guys at all, and she was seriously dating Sam, she was, but when would she ever be given the chance to experience this from this side of the equation again? 

“Yeah.” she said. 

Jeremy kissed her again as he undid her belt and jeans, sliding his hand down to feel her through her briefs. Her hips pressed forward, chasing the warmth and touch of his hand. And then his mouth was gone. He sank to his knees as he pulled the waistband of her briefs down and freed her straining cock. And it was like watching porn that she could feel, looking down the long stretch of her borrowed body, flat stomach and hard on, flushed dark pink with short, dark curls around the base. And then Jeremy’s tongue licked slowly up along the bottom of her shaft before flicking across the tip. Oh! That felt… good! One hand gently held the base, angling the length for better access, while his other hand cupped warm around her balls, lifting and squeezing in a way that made a small gasp escape her lips. Jeremy stared up at her as his tongue darted out again and swirled around the head of her cock, like he was trying to burn the image into his memory. But when he sucked her into his mouth and she groaned and placed a hand gently in his hair, her mouth falling open, his eyes sank closed and he got to work. 

Jessica had given head, she knew her way around a blowjob and took pride in the responses she got, but to feel it, oh it added an entire other level. She couldn’t help but note what worked vs. what didn’t work vs. what really worked. She had also been on the receiving end of oral in her own body many times, something that Sam was particularly fond of (and extremely good at), but while this was similar, it was also so completely different, everything sort of flipped around in a delightful way. Her head tipped back against the wall as she let the feelings take over. Despite having no direct experience on this side of a blowjob, she felt confident that Jeremy seemed to know what he was doing. She didn’t hold back her responses and he picked them up and ran with them. 

She was still tipsy enough and this was all still so new and weird, she had no idea how long it lasted before she felt herself tensing up, everything building as he worked at an increasingly frantic pace. As if he could sense how close she was, and he probably knew better than she did, he pulled back just enough to look up and say, “Come on” before swallowing as much of her as he could. A couple more pumps and the pressure in her burst, flooding out of her in deliciously violent spurts, all of which Jeremy greedily took.

When she could focus again, and looked down, he had his own dick out and was coming in his hand, his forehead resting against her thigh, still on his knees. She ran her hand through his hair, unconsciously petting him as they both came down.

When he sat back and fixed himself back into his pants, she did the same. She offered him a hand and pulled him back up to his feet. Awkwardness threatening to set in, she just smiled at him, “Thanks seems like a bit of an understatement.”

“What can I say, I’m a sucker for hot birthday boys.” He laughed, cheeks glowing with a deep flush. “No pun intended.”

Her smile spread wider.

Walking out of the bar a few minutes later, Jeremy’s number written on the receipt in her pocket, only feeling a little awkward at how quickly the whole interaction wrapped up because he seemed honestly content, Jessica looked around the parking lot. James had said it was a classic car, but she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. The long, shiny, sleek lines of the absolute beast of a vehicle that was waiting for her was a surprise though. 

She fished the keys out of her pocket and opened the door with a creaking squeak that spoke of old joints formed from heavy, solid, metal. She slid in behind the wheel and pulled the door shut. 

“Okay. Just an easy drive over to the motel. You can do this.” Turning the key in the ignition, the engine roared to life. Nothing quiet or subtle about this car, but it felt right on a weird, deep level that she wasn’t sure was coming from her. She eased out of the bar’s parking lot and onto the blessedly deserted street, keeping it a bit below the speed limit, even though she could feel the car practically begging to go faster.

Then there was the motel, and she parked outside room 12, locked the car and went inside. The place was… well it wasn’t going to ever earn even three stars on any travel guide ever again, but it was sorta clean and had the basics covered, a bed, nightstand, little desk with a chair next to a dresser with a tv on it, open closet, and a dingy bathroom. She dropped the keys onto the nightstand, along with James’s wallet and phone, as she sat heavily on the side of the bed.

Exhaustion settled heavily on her and she felt like she was made of lead, but still managed to pull off her boots and started to lay down before stopping herself and grabbing the cheap pen with the motel name on it. She scribbled a quick note on the receipt, under Jeremy’s name and number. And then was asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. 

~~~

The distinctive smell of stale, decades old, cigarette smoke and bleach hit him as Dean woke with a start. Sitting up and taking immediate stock of himself and his surroundings. Sunlight streamed in around the curtains, lighting up copious dust motes. The distant sound of a door banging shut reverberated through the walls. 

He was still wearing what he’d been wearing when he’d left his body last night and had been sleeping stretched out on top of the covers on the bed in his motel room. His duffle bag lay seemingly untouched on the floor at the foot of the bed.

He rubbed his hands over his face and scrubbed at his hair a few times. 

His wallet, keys, and phone were on the nightstand next to a note, which he picked up and read. The handwriting wasn’t his. And as he looked he realized it was likely written by two different people.

Jeremy 555-823-3467 was written in one hand, while the rest was another, messy and unsure.

You may not want to go back to that bar.

“Huh.” he tossed the note onto the bed, got up and walked to the window. A quick check outside verified that his car was there and seemed in one piece.

~~~

Jessica woke up slowly, warm and comfortable. She stretched and felt the familiar feel of her own body and smiled. The smile dropped entirely as she realized that she was naked and not alone. Sam, also naked, stirred next to her as she moved.

The night before settling like a brick in her stomach. She knew what she’d done, and would carry the guilt of cheating on Sam, but if she was honest with herself, which she tried hard to be, she believed that the extraordinary circumstances were something that she would have regretted not taking advantage of. Right or wrong, she’d made her choice and she’d live with that. But the idea that some random guy had used her body the same way, with her boyfriend, and that it turned out that Sam hadn’t noticed anything wrong, which either said a lot about how poorly he knew her, or about how good James was at pretending to be someone he didn’t really know, well, that weighed on her in a much more unpleasant way. 

It wouldn’t be for another year and a half before that strange, surreal night would come sneaking back into her life in a fittingly bizarre and unexpected way.

Looking at that too handsome face again standing so close to Sam as she flipped on the light in their living room, made the floor feel like it was going to drop out from under her.

“Sam?”

“Jess. Hey. Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica.” Sam said, still slightly out of breath.

She blinked in surprise, “Wait, your brother Dean?”

Sam had never shown her any pictures of his brother, had only spoken about him a few times, and had made it sound like they were distant, estranged. She hadn’t ever questioned… why would she have questioned? This, what the hell was this? But before she could form any of her swirling thoughts into words, Dean stepped forward, an over-the-top leering grin on his face.

“Oh, I love the Smurfs. You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league.”

There wasn’t even a hint of recognition in his eyes, but she still felt the hairs on her arms rise with a sense of danger at the aggressive eye contact he’d fixed on her. 

Later, as she watched Sam pack and assure her that he would be back in time for his interview on Monday, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was looming nearby. But she’d never told Sam about that night, it was insane, how could she have even begun to explain it? So she didn’t know now how to articulate why she didn’t want Sam to go. The idea that James was actually Sam’s brother, that he’d… that they’d… 

Sam kissed her goodbye with promises of seeing her soon and then was out the door. A familiar rumble of an engine starting up outside, and then they were gone.

#wincest #wincest fanfiction #non con #extremely dubious consent #body swap #gender swap #sam/jessica #dean/sam #long post

[hippolotamus]

WIP Wednesday 🛋️

Tagged by the talented and madness inducing @jesuisici33 @wikiangela @weewootruck @daffi-990 Thank you loves! 💖

no pressure tagging @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @stereopticons @elvensorceress @giddyupbuck my love @disasterbuckdiaz @monsterrae1 @spotsandsocks @mysteriouslyyounggalaxy @eddiediaztho @thewolvesof1998 @forthewolves @chaosandwolves @wildlife4life @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz @your-catfish-friend @statueinthestone @buddierights @911onabc @hoodie-buck @the-likesofus @fionaswhvre @barbiediaz @eowon @ladydorian05 @apothecarose @vanillahigh00 @rmd-writes @welcometololaland absolute LOML @lizzie-bennetdarcy @spaceprincessem @honestlydarkprincess @pirrusstuff @steadfastsaturnsrings @watchyourbuck @gayedmundodiaz and anyone else who wants to (please tag me if you decide to participate so i can ohh and ahh over your work)

from you're where I wanna go after this snippet

“Penny for your thoughts?” Lucy asks. She’s sunk further into the couch, leaning back at an angle with both legs tucked beneath her, and one stockinged foot dangling off the edge.  He debates whether he wants to tell her that his brain is scattered in different directions. How he’s rejoicing about never having to confront his mother again, while lamenting that he couldn’t be someone she loves. How he’s secured something of a future for his sister knowing they may never see each other again.  Ultimately he decides to keep it all to himself. In his current unguarded state he’s likely to keep talking and eventually say something about Eddie. That's a wound he’s unwilling to cut open tonight.  “Just tired I suppose.” He stands up and moves to replace the chair. “Think I’m going to change out of this stuffy suit and get some sleep. Obviously you can take the bed.” Buck walks away before she can call his bluff. He changes into pajamas and brushes his teeth in the bathroom connected to the bedroom. When he comes out Lucy is sitting on the edge of the mattress, still in her dress and fiddling with her wedding band. He studies her for a moment, sensing the weight of his own ring and all the expectations it carries. “Regrets?” He can’t help but ask even though she laid out the terms of their arrangement.  Lucy lifts her head to meet his gaze. The left corner of her mouth turns up in a half smile, but her eyes tell a different story. There’s a sort of dolefulness in them that makes him wonder about any disappointments or heartbreaks she might have tucked away in the name of self preservation. If perhaps she has an Eddie in her past. Neither one of them has offered much beyond superficial information so he supposes it’s possible. “No.” She shakes her head and busies her hands with unpinning her hair. “No regrets. Not about this.” About what then? He wants to ask, but it’s none of his business. Instead he lets her answer be enough, deciding that she’ll tell him if she wants to. “See you in the morning then, Miss Donato?” That gets her to smile – a real one – and simultaneously eases some of his own maudlin thoughts.  “See you in the morning, Mr. Buckley.” He retreats to the sitting room, closing the bedroom door behind him. A pillow and extra blankets, that Lucy must have put there, are already waiting for him. He huffs an amused chuckle and begins making himself comfortable. The couch is, fortunately, long enough for him to stretch his legs without hitting against the armrest.  After what is probably several minutes, but feels like mere seconds, his eyelids grow heavy, encouraging him to let go of the day. To rest for the journey ahead. And when Buck wakes in the morning, he realizes that his dreams were blissfully empty. There were no traces of coffee colored irises capable of piercing his soul, calloused hands made rough from labor that manage to caress with an unexpected gentleness, or perfect teeth behind plush lips that bite and soothe. While it’s likely for the best – is it really? – that knowledge doesn’t stop the fear that Eddie is beginning to slip away from him permanently.

#idk how i feel about all of it #it's unedited so... #anyway #i should have limited myself #but i'm tired af and lack impulse control today #plus i kinda want some validation #wip wednesday #fic: you’re where i wanna go #buddie wip #queerplatonic relationship #lavender marriage #hippo writes #historical au

[ashtonisvibing]

"I dare you to..."

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Alternate Universe: None

Ship(s): Intrulogical

Character(s): Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

Warning(s): Dissection, mentions of cannibalism, possible actual cannibalism (depends how you look at it)

Originally Published: Nov. 15, 2023

Author's Notes:

wowowow, sanders sides! i've finally added them to my roster, wowie!

intrulogical fanfic cuz i love my favorite lab rat x mad scientist couple :}c

side note, the cannibalism tag is on a technicality... and also as a "just in case". you'll understand when you read, but if it doesn't ACTUALLY count as cannibalism please let me know!

also... i have no idea how a dissection works, only time i dissected something was during biology when we dissected rats, and i barely remember how we did that. but hey, i think a messy and improper dissection is perfect for these freaks (affectionate)

pronouns check:

logan - he/him

remus - he/it

if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!

[plain text: if you liked what you read, consider giving this a reblog, please! it'll let more people see my work!]

Full Story:

The squelching of blood and organs mixed with Remus' mindless chatter was always a mix that Logan enjoyed during their "dates", if one could consider cutting into your boyfriend and dissecting him a date. The duke was talking about his most recent idea to prank Roman, arms gesturing around as he tried not to interfere with Logan's careful slicing of his skin. The last time he accidentally got in the way he nearly lost a finger. Not like he hadn't caused himself to lose more than just that before, placing his dismembered limbs around the Mindscape was a real treat when he heard Patton and Roman's terrified screams.

"So, what surprise do you have for today's escapade?" Logan interrupted his boyfriend's endless chatter, having made the incisions and waiting to get any sort of hint for what could be under the nearly deathly pale skin. It was always something new with their dates. One time the duke had replaced everything inside of his chest- bones, organs, even the veins and muscles and blood- with globs of clay. The nerd's first sign that something was amiss should have been the fact that no blood had surfaced when he inserted his scalpel into the skin.

Remus simply gave a chuckle as he looked up at Logan. "What, you really think I'm gonna tell that easily?" He then made an attempt at wiggling his upper body seductively. To anyone else it would look awkward, the laying position he was in certainly didn't help. For Logan and his visibly blue with blush cheeks it did the trick quite well. "C'mon Mr. Scientist, crack me open and rearrange my insides like you did last night~" And that blue blush was quick to become the nerd's blue face, to which Re cracked a smirk. It wasn't hard to fluster his boyfriend, he had learned how to make his innuendos obvious enough for Lo to understand while still being able to have fun with the wording.

Logan cleared his throat as he adjusted the goggles on his face; he insisted on wearing eye protection, just in case he was splattered with any sort of substance once again. "The difference here being that I may have to gag you this time if you keep speaking like that." Dating Remus certainly had its ups. The innuendos and suggestive flirting was something that had rubbed off on him. And the duke absolutely loved it.

"Aww, don't threaten me with a good time, sir~" Remus laughed. "'sides, I know you can't resist all the sounds I can make~"

"Do you want me to literally open you up or are we doing something else now?" The nerd hummed as he looked at the man below him. Admittedly he didn't want this date to switch over to anything else so quickly. While it might not be obvious to anyone else who didn't know him well enough, Lo was excited to see whatever surprise awaited him in the chest cavity he had created in Re. He didn't want to have to sew his boyfriend up without even getting to see anything. Remus was honestly the only one who knew Logan well enough to see that excitement in the other's almost midnight blue eyes. How could he possibly pull his boyfriend away from this just for some sex, especially when it was obvious that he wasn't in the mood.

The duke gave a smile as he set his hands on either side of his abdomen, as if he was presenting whatever was in there to the nerd. "Open me up, berry. Think you'll be surprised by this round." He chuckled softly.

On that command Logan grabbed a couple pairs of retractors to pull the skin flaps back and hold them in place. And what he saw in the cavity was... Quite normal. Heart, lungs, liver, nerves, everything seemed to be there. There wasn't any discoloration, no weird textures. Everything was as red and pink and fleshy as it all should be. Lo raised an eyebrow as he looked around for anything that could be out of place. Maybe bugs were about to start crawling out from who knows where? Maybe a strange creature would pop out Alien style? But nothing happened. "Is this it?" Logan finally asked as he looked at his boyfriend's face. He couldn't help the bit of disappointment in his voice, Re's strange antics were why he loved these dates.

Remus simply shrugged in response. "Eh, not feeling that creative today." Before the nerd could retaliate the duke kept speaking. "How 'bout we play some truth or dare while you look around in there?" He let out a giggle. Now Logan was even more confused.

"Truth or dare..??"

"Yeah!" Re's giggle turned into a laugh as he nodded, his hands shooting up into the air. "That's what can be different this time! Playing a fun game together! Please, berry?"

Logan could never resist when his boyfriend pulled those puppy eyes, they made him completely melt. How could he not when the other looked as cute as he did? So he gave a sigh and nodded, picking up a scalpel to begin his dissection. Might as well do something while they played truth or dare. "Alright, alright. Who's going to start?"

"I will, I will!" Remus continued to laugh as he clapped his hands over his head. "Truth or dare?"

The nerd took a second to think his choice over. "Truth."

"Is it true that you looooove me~?" Re's question was ended in a snicker as he looked up at his boyfriend, cheeks a slight green. He was rarely ever corny with his flirting, preferring to be more sexual and gross. But he had his moments when it was just the two of them. And those moments always managed to bring a smile to Lo's lips and a flutter to his heart.

"I wouldn't be dating you if I didn't love you, you rat." Logan chuckled softly as he not-at-all carefully broke off one of Re's ribs to get a better look at it. He was still convinced that he would find something unusual about the other's insides. It happened with every other dissection. Why was this time any different? "Truth or dare?"

"Hmmmmm... Dare. Gimme a good one, a real... Creepy one." Remus chuckled softly, his arms crossing behind his head to prop it up a little.

Logan set the rib on a separate table beside him, where he'd keep anything else he'd pull out. They'd be placed back inside his boyfriend later. "I dare you to pull your eyes out."

Re's response was to blow raspberries at the nerd before easily pulling his vibrant green eyes out of their sockets with a comical pop, a black ink-like substance now oozing from the holes. He didn't seem very pleased by this dare. "C'mon Lo, pulling my eyes out is the oldest trick in my book! I did this a couple'a days ago to put them in Virgin's soda! Should've seen the look on his face, if he was Patton he would've vomited right then and there!" He gave a triumphant laugh before putting his eyes back where they should be, and the black substance stopped dripping. "Shame he's got a stronger stomach, but he went even paler than even my skin!"

"Apologies, I would have given something more horrifying, but..." The nerd drew out his sentence as he cut and pulled out one of Remus' kidneys, showing it off to his boyfriend. "I'm occupied with something else, as you can tell." The pair shared a chuckle - from Logan - and a laugh - from Remus.

"It's fine, berry. Just try to gimme something better." The duke smiled, taking his own kidney from the other to hold it in his hand and get a closer look. "Ain't nothing too gross for the Duke of the Macabre!"

"Of course, how could I forget?" Logan chuckled again, taking a pause from his work to take one of Remus' hands into his own, placing a soft kiss on the back of it. He couldn't help his smirk when he looked over at his boyfriend's face and saw the other's cheeks were a bright green. Some may think it hard to get the duke to blush and become flustered considering his crude and smutty way of flirting. Lo knew that all it took was gentle affection and the duke was putty in his hands. He just had to make sure no one else was around, but he was fine with keeping such moments private. It was his own precious secret.

The pair went back and forth with their little game for a while, the truths and dares getting more and more wild as the rounds went on. Until Logan asked for a dare, a shift from his truth preference, and Remus gave one

"Dare you to take a bite out of my intestine ya got there."

Sure enough, the nerd was holding his boyfriend's small intestine in his hands. The cavity was nearly empty by now. Only the heart, lungs, and small intestine having been left in. Logan did know that logically Remus would be able to survive without his heart and lungs, but he was still hesitant to take them out lest something go wrong this time.

The dare made him take quite a pause as it registered in his brain. He glanced at the organ in his hands, then at his boyfriend, then at the organ again. "Are you suggesting cannibalism?"

Remus gave a simple shrug in response, his eyes closed and arms once again crossed under his head. "Cannibalism, having a little snack, call it whatever ya want." He then snickered as his eyes opened to look at the other. "C'mon, don't chicken out now. No one else is here, they'll never know. We're technically not even real so, like, it's not really a crime, right? Don't gotta worry about infection, either! Promise I wash my insides every other day!" He then propped himself up by his elbows as best as he could so he could be closer to the other, those vibrant green eyes full of their usual mischief and chaos. "'sides, you're really gonna tell me you've never thought of it? What it might taste like? If it might gush with blood the moment you bite down into it, or how tender it might be. I'm not Janus but you can't lie to me. You're dating the Duke of the Macabre after all, you've gotta have some fucked up thoughts sometimes."

It honestly wouldn't be a lie to say that the thought had crossed Logan's mind a couple of times before. Of course Remus of all things had eaten human flesh before, mostly as a prank. Last Halloween he had tried to set out a bowl of assorted dismembered fingers and eyeballs and even tongues, and to try to prove his point that his bowl should stay among the actual candy, he pulled out one of the fingers and just ate it like it was a chicken leg. And while everyone else - save for Janus, the only other person besides Logan who was used to Re's antics - was utterly horrified, Lo couldn't help his thought of joining Remus to see just what it might taste like. Knowing the duke there was a chance that the bowl wasn't actually filled with body parts, only food made to look like such. But... Maybe they were. He now would never know, until now. He could satisfy his curiosity.

And so, after a surprisingly short think over, the nerd closed his eyes and bit into the intestine in his hands.

"... Blueberry-?" Logan spoke with the biteful still in his mouth, and with his eyes now opened he could see that... The intestine had turned blue, and had a gummy-like appearance to it. And sure enough when he started chewing, it was just like chewing a giant gummy worm. There was confusion written all over Lo's face that made Remus erupt with laughter.

"And that's the surprise! Gummy insides!" The duke sat up and reached over to the table where the assorted guts and bones sat, and all of those had turned into different colored gummies as well. He took a now orange stomach and bit into it with a happy smile. "Mmm, citrus... Think it might be grapefruit, can't quite tell." He shrugged before taking another bite, this time speaking with the candy in his mouth. "Figured I'd make this round more surprising by revealing it later." He swallowed his bite before continuing to speak. "Though I'm surprised, you didn't think over your dare that much before you took a good bite. Maybe you really are as fucked up as I am." He snickered.

Lo continued to stare at his boyfriend with that intended surprise before chuckling, hopping up onto the operating table. "Well, I am dating you after all." He took out the other end of the small intestine and handed it to Remus. "I'm sure I have to be... Fucked up, as you put it, to date you." Remus' smile grew more as he took the other end. Eating his gummified small intestine Lady and the Tramp style with his boyfriend wasn't a prediction for today, but it was certainly something he'd welcome with open arms.

"And that's why I love you, berry."

#ashton is writing #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #tw dissection #tw cannibalism

[nekoannie-chan]

You're not my type

You’re not my type

Title: You’re not my type.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader, ? X Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.!Reader

Rating: Teen.

Word count: 805 words.

Warnings: Break up, engagement.

Summary: You discover that Steve is not your type.

A/N: This is my entry to @multifandom-flash, Annie-3002 & square 4:

"You’re not my type."

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics to be posted on other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don't steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other's people. The only exception is the ones I gifted 'cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and are not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Marvel's characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

Add yourself to my taglist here.

My other media where I publish:  Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter. 

If you like it, please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @navybrat817 @angrythingstarlight @shield-agent78 @charmed-asylum @pandaxnienke @real-fbi @smokeandnailz @white-wolf1940 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @xoxonotme @bluemusickid @leyannrae @harrysthiccthighsss @marvelatthisonee @caplanbuckybarness @sapphire-rogerss @lizzieolseniskinda @notyourtypicalrose @hallecarey1 @nana1000night @talia-rumlow @writingshae @alexxavicry @azulatodoryuga @daemonslittlebitch @chaoticcollectivenightmare @endlesstwanted @chemtrails-club  @marigoldreamer @whiskeytangofoxtrot5555 @here4thefanfics @theestorm @patzammit @kmc1989

The dim light of dusk filtered through the half-open curtains, Steve Rogers stood at the window, his eyes lost in the horizon. The silence in the room was overwhelming, interrupted only by the creaking of the wood beneath his feet. The tension seemed to increase with every moment.

Beside him, you watched Steve with tired eyes, eyes that had cried too much in the last few days. The news that Steve planned to return to the past to live a life he had never had with Peggy had been a devastating blow. He had dared to tell you.

"I'm sorry, but I have to try" was what Steve said to you, he tried to hug you, but you refused, and you left the room, you didn't want to see him again. You wanted him to leave your house, you didn't plan to move out, he was the one who had to move all his belongings out.

Months passed since that day, months in which you desperately tried to fill the void Steve left behind, although you finally found comfort in someone else, only one person had come looking for you and he really seemed concerned about you. Until one day, without warning, Steve returned.

You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a book but not really reading it. The sound of the door opening made you look up, and there he was, standing in the doorway, you thought you had been very clear. Steve stood in front of you in Captain America's uniform, but something in his look had changed, something you couldn't immediately identify.

"I'm back," Steve said with a nervous smile. "I think I made it."

You held his gaze, he didn't seem to notice the new photos that replaced the ones you'd once taken with him and displayed in the living room.

"You did it," you murmured. Steve nodded, slowly moving closer.

"Yes, but that's not the only thing I want to tell you. I realized that I really want to be with you."

You stared at him, still amazed at how blind he could be.

"But we're not the same anymore, Steve. You made a decision, a decision that destroyed me at the time and left scars."

Steve sighed, lowering his gaze, he didn't look like he was going to give up that easily. "I know I hurt you, and I'm sorry. But I want to try again. I want to be with you, to move forward together."

You got up from the couch, moving away from him, but closer to the door. "It's not that simple, Steve. You can't go back and pretend nothing happened. You left everything behind, including me. You left me here, alone, wondering if you'd ever come back, I couldn't find comfort."

Steve followed you, trying to grab your hand. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I made that decision because I thought it was the right thing to do at the time. I didn't know what I was going to lose."

You broke free from his grip. "I'm sorry, but you're not my type."

"I didn't expect it to be easy, but I'm willing to try. We can get through this together."

You shook your head slowly.

"No, Steve. I don't want to live in the past anymore. I can't build my future with you after all this." You said. Steve looked at you sadly.

"So that's it then, we say goodbye here?".

"Yes, Steve. This is the best thing for both of us, I've already moved on with my life in case you hadn't noticed." You raised your hand to show him the engagement ring.

He nodded resignedly, stepping back a few paces, that's when he noticed the photos. "I'm sorry, I really am," Steve mumbled and walked out of your house, closing the door behind him.

You plopped down on the couch, when you said you wanted to erase him from your life, you meant it, you never wanted to see him again, however, you had to admit you felt some satisfaction when he found out about your engagement.

The sun was setting on the horizon when you heard the door open, your fiancé had just returned from his mission, and you smiled at the sight of him.

"Brock! " You exclaimed with excitement.

"I came back and stopped by to buy you some cupcakes, the ones you like the most. "

"It'll be dessert for dinner. "

Then you would take it upon yourself to tell her what had happened that day. Although it probably wouldn't be any problem, they had already talked about that if it ever happened, but what mattered most to you was that they would continue with the wedding preparations, where they evidently hadn't invited Steve, you even felt much better without him in your life.

#multifandom flash #multifandom flash bingo #round 3 #steve rogers x reader

[sardonic-the-writer]

NOTHINGS EVER NORMAL HERE

—word count: 6k+

—playlist: link

—tag list: n/a

—notes: welcome to the ahs: murder house experience. so get your truama under control and strap in. there's not enough trigger warnings in the world for this show. read at your own risk

If they all knew the different fates awaiting them in the self dubbed murder house, maybe they wouldn't have moved in.

A rustic house stood tall in the face of the gloomy streat, it's old foundations staring down at four very tiny looking people in comparison, movers scuttling around them boxes in hand.

Four very tiny people with very tiny time left to live.

Occasionally a worker would bump into one of them from behind, prompting a grunt from the receiving party or a step to the side, an exasperated expression being tossed out more often than not. But other than that no words were spoken. Not out loud.

A girl not much younger than what could have been 16 stood next to another slightly taller figure just a little older in age. Her eyelids were cast in a downward motion underneath a curtain of light blonde hair, giving the impression that she was half asleep when in fact it was more of an unimpressed look.

Another beat of uncomfortable silence.

"A cool looking house where people died and somehow you two still manage to ruin in." Violet finally spoke, eyeing a couch dotted with cheap modern designs as it passed her on a trolly. Most likely being the thing that prompted the sudden commentary.

A momentary giggle made its out of her mouth as she proceeded watched the person next to her get elbowed in the ribs for laughing at her comment, the victim being (Y/n), who shot a venomous look towards their parents at the action.

"Vi's not wrong you know." They stuffed one of their hands in their pants pocket, the other going out to wrap around their younger sisters shoulders with a shrug. "Dad cheats on you mom, and you move us all out here as if that'll fix the fact he fucked someone who was probably being babysat by the time you were graduating highschool. In your own bed nonetheless. Kind of a lame way to ruin this sweet house you know."

Any outsider in the family would recognize the look of hurt and grossly underestimated anger radiating from the people they spoke to—that being a lady with soft red hair and a tall man with a handsomely chiseled face. With the way that they stood stiffly next to each other it wouldn't take a genius to see that once they may have been close, lovers even, before a rift.

"Call me a brat or rude or whatever you want." They said with yet another shrug, pulling Violet closer to them. "But that won't change the fact you screwed up big time dad. And now your probably gonna screw up in this house too."

"I thought we agreed to at least try and be civil with each other during the move. Me and your mother are trying to work things out and the one thing we do not need right now are you two running your mouths any more than usual." A deep authoritative looked crossed over the face of the man (Y/n) and Violet had the honor of calling father, his eyes shooting stern looks between the both of them.

It hadn't always been like this. Each of them could tell you of a night not so long ago where family dinners were the highlight of their day, week even. But now those memories had been replaced a scar on an arm, a permanent reminder that mistakes had been made.

"And I thought you agreed to not stick your dick in anyone else when you got on one knee."

"Ben, just stop." The red headed lady sighed, stilling him with a tight grip on his shoulder. Therefore preventing him from taking a step towards his children. Her voice was close to emotionless as she briefly regarded the man next to her. A small call of 'Vivian please—' was tossed her way, being waved off with a sharp exhale of air.

"Why don't you two grab some of your boxes and start unpacking. That way you'll have time to set up each of your seperate rooms the way you want." She spoke to them with a lowered tone. The intent of getting them to leave went unsaid.

The teenagers exchanged looks between each other before collectively setting off to the moving van behind them, leaving behind their parents to argue for the tenth time that week in voices they thought were quiet enough so they wouldn't hear. It was only once they had both picked up their seperate things to waddle into the house and up many sleek wooden staircases with various size cardboard boxes in hand did anyone say anything.

"God I hate them so much."

(Y/n) walked into Violets room with her, still balancing a mountain of heavy containers on their hip as their upset sister threw her things on the floor, a bare bed and some empty shelves being the only thing in what was to become Violets den. But they slid their own boxes down onto the hardwood floor, later choosing to resort in kicking them across the hallway towards the direction of their new room, and chose to entertain her whining with a question of why.

"I don't want to change schools. I dont want to be the weird new kid. And I don't want to be in a different room than you! The only thing good thats come out of this is the stupid house, and they've already started to ruin that too." The younger girl grumbled. She kicked her bed limply frame before flopping back onto the mattress.

"Hold on let's go back to the part where you don't want to have your own room. Some part of me recalls all the times you begged mom to have your own place at the old house." (Y/n) said with a toothy grin, laughing as Violet stretched out on the bed to playfully hit them.

"Yeah but at this point I'd put up with your horrible music taste and chip crumbs over anything that had to do with them." She made sure to anunciate her point as she jabbed a hard thumb at the window leading to an outside veiw of the front yard. Probably where Ben and Vivian were still arguing.

(Y/n) squinted their eyes in a fake offended manor, beginning the process of exiting Violets room at the excuse of being wounded by her harsh words.

"Smashing Pumpkins and barbecue chips happen to be my spirit animal thank you very much."

"Chips aren't even an animal asshole!"

Violet just received a cheerful middle finger, the two smiling as their veiw of each other faded from sight.

It was hours later when they had finally decided to start unpacking.

The sky was noticeably darker outside of the one window in their room, noting the passing of time. (Y/n)'s parents had only stopped by their room once since the little incident on the lawn, each alone, to check in that they were at least still in the house. The conversations didn't last very long to say the least. And from the very short bouts of audible mumbling coming from the wall in which Violets room connected to theirs, she had the same experience.

The first couple of boxes had only begun to unpack once the sound of a record needle dropped onto a shiny black disc.

The gray record player had been a gift from a couple Christmas' ago, the item quickly climbing its way to the top of (Y/n)'s most prized possessions. While Violet had later received an iPod and matching speaker set to go with it, they had always preferred the faint scratching of a needle as the music began to play. Records of both older and more modern bands were attached to the hip of the machine, the collection one worthy of gawking at. They would have to remind themself look for a record shop in town later.

Not everyone always liked their music taste though.

"Got any Cobain?"

(Y/n) momentarily fumbled the lampshade they were holding, heart feeling like someone had just slammed it inbetween a car door. They only regained their grip on the cloth covered item as they whirled around with their arm extended as if ready to throw a pitch.

And we're faced with a total stranger.

He had a mop of the dirtiest blond hair they had ever seen on someone, somehow curly and straight at the same time. Steely gray eyes fixed their gaze dead center on them, the swirling color reminding (Y/n) briefly of the way a storm at sea could rip a five ton ship in half before someone could even finish brushing their teeth.

He wore jeans and a green and black striped sweater, the horizontical pattern and his broad grin bringing the name Cheshire Cat to mind.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get in my house. Answer or I'll yell."

He seemed very unthreated by the threat of a lampshade being pointed at him.

"Got any Cobain?" He repeated with a calm tone, smile unwavering and eyes calm.

(Y/n) spared a quick look at their still playing record. The song was something cheery. Light. It contrasted with the strange atmosphere currently bottling up in the room.

"I do." They curtly responded. Nothing more.

"You can relax. Don't worry, I live next door." He chuckled. It was as every bit amused as the rest of him. It made (Y/n)'s brows furrow in annoyance.

"Being my supposed neighbor doesn't explain why you're inside my house. And my room. I could charge you for breaking and entering." It was meant to sound grown up; promising. They had the feeling however that he wouldn't really care.

"You could." He shrugged, lips turning downward to show he entertained the thought.

(Y/n) wanted to throw something at him, preferably heavy and metal, and lock the door on him. They weren't buying this whole next door neighbor shit. That's how people got killed. Dumb people.

But then again say he really was their neighbor. They'd probably feel terrible later. Not too terrible, concidering the way he was acting and exactly how he had managed to get inside their house unnoticed, but still pretty bad.

And Violet was just next door. They didn't want to lock him out there with her. They didn't even like entertaining that idea.

"Look, is there a point to you being here besides trying to scare the shit out of some people you don't even know. Because if not, I'd rather you and the sweater your granny knit for you hightail it out of here."

They turned to continue unpacking things after what they hoped was knocking the boys ego down a few pegs. (Y/n) avoided pulling out any what could be embarassing items from the boxes in the process, for they would be damned before they let this weirdo see the stuffed animal they've had since they were five.

"I just wanted to see new doctor next door and his family before any other of the neighborhood weirdos snatched you up." He shrugged—seemingly a repetitive motion of his as much as it was (Y/n)'s—eyes free to roam over then in an observatory manor while their back was turned. "You just happened to be the first person I ran into."

"How sweet." They snorted, rolling their eyes. Preoccupied by showing off a bitchy front, the mention of their dad's profession went straight over their head.

Something the blond boy behind them smiled at.

"What? Would you have rather I ran into someone else first?" The smile in the nameless boys tone was prominent. (Y/n)'s face felt the strange urge to light up, embarrassed that they didn't understand the joke he was making at their expense.

Instead they took a breath, eyes begining to set in a blank and hopefully unbothered stare. They slammed the lid shut on one of the boxes they had been unpacking, only to start speaking without even turning to look at the person behind them. Being a passive agressive bitch could be their favorite past time after all.

"Now let me take a guess here. You're a pretentious bastard who's father probably left them becuase they listened to their rock music too loud one night. And ever since then you've, what, been trying to over compensate for something with that smart ass mouth while breaking into people houses?"

"And let me guess. You're a nobody who's favorite color has been something dark since they learned what sounding edgy got them, pretending to like being mellow and laid back when in reality all you are is an attention whore." A voice ran back like a vocal mirror, tone entertained.

"Tacky, low, and sort of accurate. Touche, creep. Now get out of my room."

He just laughed from behind. A sort of layered laugh, buried with so many emotions and unspoken words that it was hard to get a read on it.

The laugh went on for a bit longer than it should have.

Creepy.

"You're fun." He grinned, playing with one of the random trinkets (Y/n) had set on a table. A fixed gaze was pinpointed on the back of their head, unmoving. "Not like the others."

"Oh wow. Would you look at that. My self esteem just rocketed through the roof at your very sincere words. Many thanks to you, stranger that broke into my house to promptly insult me."

"To be fair the back door was unlocked, and you started it first."

What was this. A kindergarten fight?

They closed their eyes for a moment, turning to face him with a conveintly located heavy book from a moving box in hand.

"Listen pal—"

"Oh so we're pals now? Kind of forward for someone you just met I think."

"—I'd love nothing more than to wipe that sick smile off your face, preferably with the hardcover of this novel, but I don't think I'd exactly be able to read it again knowing it touched your face. So get out asshole."

His smile strained against the fabric of sincerity, placing down the item in his hands back on the shelf it originated from. It was if he hadnt liked something they said, and it didnt seem to be the overall threat of a dictionary slap. But the change in expression went as fast as it had come, the boy now holding his hands up in mock surrender.

"You're the boss, grouchy. I have to go anyways. Stuff to do and all that. See you soon, neighbor."

They didn't grace him with an answer, grunting lowly and lowering the thick dictionary. Their eyes didn't once leave him as he walked slowly out of the room.

He paused by their door momentarily.

"Your sisters pretty cute by the way."

And then he was gone. The only memorabilia from the visit being the shine of his dark eyes.

Like a ghost.

They frowned.

Nothing interesting happened for the next few days.

Life went on as normal as it could for a family such as theirs; dealing with adultery, two teenage kids, and a new house that is. But things had settled pretty quickly despite everything, a hushed routine falling over each of the individual house members. Even Doctor Harmon had continued his profession of counseling people from home after his office had been arranged to his liking. Of course, he had made sure to make it clear that no one was to interrupted his sessions. He made that very, very clear.

Perhaps the most important—or most interesting—thing to note was (Y/n) hadn't seen that strange guy since their last encounter with him. They still werent sure whether to feel happy or worried about that.

A conversation with Violet later in the day had revealed that she hadn't in fact had the same experience. If it werent for the knowladge that (Y/n) wouldn't just stright up lie to them about this, she would have waved it off and claimed they were pranking her.

The lack of interacrion between her and the boy prompted the question in (Y/n)s mind of how he knew what Violet looked like then, and how she was co called "cute".

But they didn't mention that.

One good thing that come out of all of it was that it didnt feel strange or unusual that (Y/n) had been thinking about him more than the average person. He had been a home invader after all. That would hang in someone's thoughts for a good while.

What was strange however was the feeling of being watched. The hairs standing up on their neck at the most random of times, chills running across their body in a tirade of tiny ice cubes. Any concerns they ever thought of making to their parents about this continuing occurance always ended in the same. Chalked up to paranoia or a new house. So nothing was said.

Maybe that's why they had been so keen to get out of their house, despite it being for the first day at a new school.

"Why can't you ever drive us anywhere? Maybe then I wouldnt have to listen to dad lecture me about how late I am getting up in the mornings." Violet asked, shoes scuffing against the concrete of courtyard grounds. Smoke spilled from her nose as it would from a dragon. (Y/n) had to resist the urge to ask for a drag.

"Me? Drive dad's precious car anywhere than out the driveway? I think not." They scoffed playfully despite the words being more than true. Violet lightly smiled at that, one hand going up to hold her black hat onto the top of her head as a gust of wind nearly blew it off.

Student after student shouldered their way through the siblings, the two having to swim upstream just to get to the wing of the school that held their first periods.

This was the first place (Y/n) had felt alone. Despite being surrounded by kids with horrible B.O and being flanked by their sister, that faint itchy feeling of being watched was nowhere to be seen. No pun intended. It was very relieving. They hadn't realized how much it had been bothering them these past couple of weeks.

"I'm just saying, it'd be nice to hear something other than how I woke up late once be—"

"Hey!"

Both (Y/n) and Violet stopped at the loud elimination. The shout had obviously been directed in their direction. Evident of the three angry looking girls stomping their way.

"Oh god." Was all (Y/n) heard from Violet mutter before a group of upper class privileged kids were staring down at them from their noses, acting as if someone pissed in their lucky charms this morning. Or whatever wealthy people eat for breakfast. Steak? That seemed accurate enough.

"There's no smoking in school!" The same high voice as before cracked. "Second hand smoke kills you know!" The ringleader of the trio snapped. She had brown hair as straight as a board, and two other friends that looked like carbon copies of herself—save for the different skin colors.

(Y/n) had to resist the urge to cringe and laugh at the same time. It was almost embarrassing how stereotypical these mean girls were. With their designer clothing and posh adittudes it was almost like they had walked straight out of High School Musical and into real life. More embarassing for them than anything. And definitely not worth the time.

"Sorry man. We're both new here, didn't know." The cigarette Violet had snagged from her mom's purse this morning fell to the ground wastefuly as (Y/n) flicked it out of their sisters hand, going to stomp out the dying light. At least before the same skinny brunette slammed her foot down on their own to get to it first.

"Bitch!" They yelped painfully whilst jumping back. Even Violets eyes widened in slight suprise. By now a few people had turned their way, the beginnings of a circle big enough to stay away from the confrontation but small enough to see what was going on forming. (Y/n) had seen enough movies and been in school long enough to know they were all hoping for a fight. They got the feeling this must happen often.

"People sit here! You can't just do that." She snarled with the now slightly crumpled ciggarette in hand, a few strands of brown hair getting coated in spit with the ferocity she used.

"Jeez! What crawled up your ass this morning?" (Y/n) marveled with all their weight temporarily on one foot. Someone whispered back that the confrontational girls grandma had died from cigarettes, to which they were met with a gaze that said 'fuck her grandma and the rude ass bitch she spawned'.

"I'll go throw it away. Could have just asked me, asshole."

"No. I want to see you both eat it."

Silence even from the crowd.

What in the absolute hell—

One of the girls friends tugged on the brunnettes sickeningly tasteful pullover, timidly calling out that they should all just leave now. But their hand was shoved away in favor of repeating what had just been said.

"No. They need to eat it. I'll make them."

(Y/n) pinched tbe bridge of their nose before looking in disbelief at Violet.

From there they didn't really remember what happened—at least that's what they told the principal and their parents. Later in class Violet would think about the way they had practically managed to fend the girl off all on their own, despite being completely taken by suprise. Not everyday someone trys to make you eat a cigarette of the ground after all. She regretted not doing more than spitting on one of the three girls faces though. Maybe then she could have been sent home with (Y/n) instead.

"Lucky." She frowned before picking up a pencil and copying down more algriba notes, can't helping but feel at that moment that math was a torture device straight from hell.

(Y/n) hadn't known much peace since the first day at school.

Neither at home or the educational building. The only benefits of the latter was that the prickling sensation never occurred once; durring class or inbetween. Or really anywhere outside of the house in fact. But at least at home they didn't have to worry about being slapped in the face while eating a pb and j for lunch.

Even Violet had started jumping into fights more often, painting a target on both of their backs. Not like the both of them really cared beyond some bloody cuts. At least when they went home now they would be sporting matching bruises.

Ben and Vivian were less than happy with this new revelation. The two were still in this awkward entanglement of the process of forgiveness and anger, so coming home to both of their kids looking like they had been pelted with rocks was something no one needed. Often they threatened, or in Vivians cade offered, to have them moved to a different school. But that was quickly shot down, Violet claiming she wasn't going to run anymore. (Y/n) had simply shrugged when asked why they wanted to stay, saying if Violet wasn't moving, then she wasn't either.

I suppose the failing parents could have found some sort of comfort in knowing their problems were outshines by the companionship of their own children, but the pair of cloudy minded adults continued to crash and burn all the same. (Y/n) wouldn't be surprised if she came down the stairs one night to get some water only to find Ben sleeping on the couch. He did deserve it after all. From the snippets of arguments they had heard right after the cheating scandle had come out, he had pulled some dick moves. Litteraly.

Maybe that's why they didn't feel any guilt when their feet carried them into his unlocked office one day.

It was a rather unfortunate event to leave your works glass double doors unlocked while out getting groceries, especially when you have a child such as (Y/n) who often found themself in places as if by some force of will. Like their feet had just been on autopilot. People called it snooping. They called it subconscious curiosity. Often it ended up in Vivian or someone else vigorously apologizing for them walking into the back of a store or something.

Perhaps it was this subconscious curiosity that led them to looking through random bookshelves, skimming over pages about psychology and counseling before eventually placing them back. It wasn't untill their fingers had closed around a new type of textured paper did that autopilot mode switch off.

A manilla folder was found weighing heavily in their hands, having been wedged between more college textbooks on the wonders of the human mind. It had probably been placed there on accident more than likely, but that was the last thing on their mind as they flipped the thing open.

Skipping past pages of notes in their dad's handwriting, they stopped on the last page. A personal profile and picture of the person this folder was all about. Contact info, a genericnphone number, and random adress were written. All things they skimmed past. Then they had no desire to delve into a strangers adress or problems. It felt immoral to do that.

Later they wished they would have.

Wind lapped at their legs as the folder suddenly landed on the carpet below with a dulled thump. Their fingers had slackened on the thick office object just enough for it to flutter to the grounds.

(Y/n)'s eyes had grown to the size of a silver dollar at the sight of a picture frowing up at them. The slight of the person's haunting eyes all too familiar.

A pair of dangerous gray pupils had gazed back at them, saying more than anyone ever could with their voice.

"Dad treats the Tate Langdon?"

Vivian meerly let out a curious hum in response, eyes never leaving the dragon fruit she was preparing as a snack (probably against Moria's wishes, a house maid that had just randomly popped up one day. Just like everything else in this place, she was weird. (Y/n) often had a hard time telling if she was a sweet elderly woman, or a young adult hellbent on wearing the most lowcut uniform.)

"Tate Langdon. That's his name." (Y/n) walked deeper into the room, hands stuffed deep in their pockets. They had promptly walked out of Doctor Harmons office upon seeing that file, accompanied with the name Tate Langdon in big, black letters. Their feet had taken up that strange habit of wandering places where they were most or least needed; probably due to a combination of shock and thirst for answers. Answers it was best to not go asking Ben about.

"He's supposed to be our next door neighbor. Weird as shit. Just showed up in my room uninvited a few days ago." They elaborated, trying to stay as casual as possible. Reaching out to grab at the fruit being prepared, all they got was a slap on the wrist and stern look for cussing via mother.

"Sounds peculiar. Apparently our neighbors have a habit of being like that." Vivian continued. (Y/n) made the brief connection between the mention of an offputting lady and her daughter showing up the other day as renovations were being done. Must have been more neighbors. "I'm sure he just wanted to say hi."

Another downwards slice of the kitchen knife.

"And you know I don't ask about your dad's patients (Y/n). It's none of my business who he helps." She said. The comment was so matter of fact it was almost annoying.

"Right. Because you and dad still talk to each other." The youngest one in the room deadpanned.

"You know what I mean." Vivian sighed. The light had hit her face in such a way just then, making her seem ten years older than she was. It had been like this ever since the scandle. (Y/n) had been noticing more of that a lot lately.

"I'm just saying. You know that dad only sees the people that no one else wants to deal with. And not for a good reason. Now this Tate guy knows where we live. You dont think that's spooky?"

"A lot of things can be spooky." Came the short response.

"But come on you have to admit—"

"(Y/n) I don't even know why I'm discussing this with you." Vivian threw the knife down, frustrated. "Either you can come help me make some food for tonight, or go back to whatever you were doing before. Preferably out of the confines of that office. I don't have time to entertain every single worry you have!"

They blinked.

"Look hun. Me and your dad are going through a tough time with this move and councling. Would it kill you to show some sympathy for us instead of causing another scene like you did on the lawn the other day?"

(Y/n) wanted to respond with sarcasm. Maybe even a smart ass quip. You don't think I know? They wanted to hiss. That you and dad can't stand to keep doing this? You think I don't know how upset everyone is? None of that gives you an excuse to keep treating me and Violet like temporary distractions.

But nothing came out. Nothing other than the sound of steady breathing.

So thank god for Moira, no matter how creepy she was.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting something."

(Y/n) just shook her head with a small no to answer the maid that had appeared from think air, eyes peeling off Vivian as they headed for the one spot they and Violet had been frequenting the most lately. The confused expression of Moira when they passed was noticed and filed away to be ignored as a beeline was made for the basement.

A corner with some glossy magazines (Vivians doing) and candy bar wrappers ( (Y/n)s doing, but a team effort in the consumption) were the only real signs of life down in the basement. Aside from the one or two spiders and centipede that would have to be squished under a shoe to cease Violets occasional shreik, nothing moved down here.

It was a perfect place to be alone.

Clearing off a spot of dust on the floor, (Y/n) sat down criss cross to sink their head in the confines of their hands.

They never cried. But sometimes they got pretty close to it.

This house could be too much sometimes. Was too much. Everything had been to much ever since packing up all their belongings plus the kitchen sink and moving, but especially this godamn house and that goddamn feeling of being watched.

In an almost laughably ironic way, that feeling quadrupled anytime they sat in the basement. It was crushing. But it was crushing the way a weighted blanket might be. If they were going to feel paranoid all the time they might as well try to get a little comfortable with some exposure.

"Your sister has some blades stashed away if you want to cut yourself."

And there he was. Back in the house as if he owned the place, staring into (Y/n)'s mind with a concealed smile.

"It's rude to stare you know." They mumbled up at Tate from the dust covered floor. Encaptivated almost as they watched his feet swing back and forth idily off the stairs beneath him.

"Doesn't stop you."

It took (Y/n) a moment to prosess much else. Their brain already felt like mush, and the added presence of him felt like a short circut waiting to happen.

"Wait did you say cut myself?" They bewildered. "With razors Vi has?:

"Yeah." Tate shrugged. "Might make you feel better. Always does for us."

Us.

Oh Violet..

"Stay the fuck away from my sister Langdon."

"What? Jealous or something?" He said with a smile, not at all thrown by the sudden curveball of his last name.

"No. I'm not."

And it was true. They weren't jealous. They didn't even want to be talking to him themself.

"You know I think we got off on the wrong foot." Tate mused. (Y/n) shot him a look that feigned confusion. "And I'd like to try and get to know you better."

"My dad treats you. I'm not dumb Tate. I know he only helps people who are really fucking messed up."

"Am I?"

"Are you."

Tates eyes flashed.

This is what he liked from them. The silent battle of wits. It was honestly amusing how much they liked to think they knew. That they had him all figured out as this annoying next door physcopath neighbor.

It was almost laughable.

"Look. I'll cut you a deal." (Y/n) exhaled. They had come down here for some space and quiet but ended up in this position. And now they just wanted him gone; more than usual.

"Stop showing up in my room uninvited and I'll concider letting you to get to know me better." They paused midway to mumble something amongst the lines of 'even against my better judgment'. "I have a feeling this deal won't keep yoy away from Violet though. So just watch yourself Tate."

"You've already got me all figured out huh Harmon?" He grinned. "But a deals a deal. Scouts honor." He raised a hand and placed the over other his heart stiffly, doing nothing to convince (Y/n).

"Right. Now get out of our basement. Please." They added onto the end just to try and negotiate a little bit of peace. But it was a more so just a soft-ish demand for him to leave them alone at that point.

"Is every meeting of ours going to end with you banishing me from your house?" Tate asked with a grunt while begening to hoist himself up carefully.

"Depends. Do you want it to?"

He didn't answer.

#ahs muder house x reader #ahs #ahsmh x reader #ahs x reader #ahs murder house #american horror story muder house x reader #american horror story x reader #tate x reader #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon #tate #tate ahs #x reader #one shot

[miscfandomwrites]

Mama Chapter Twelve

A/N: Inbox is open! And please let me know if you want to be on the taglist for this series. 

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader

Warnings:

Words: 1.4k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

~~

“You’re joking!” Wanda exclaimed loudly enough for me to shush her and remind her that Lillith was taking a nap. 

She leaned closer to Natasha and yell-whispered : “Please tell me you at least got a photo of that!” 

Natasha just grinned and showed her the phone screen, which made Wanda gasp and grab it to show me. 

Apparently Bruce and Tony did something in the lab because both weren’t wearing shirts. And from what I could glimpse of the photo before Wanda whisked it away again, was that both of them were covered in a blue powder. 

“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked as I dumped another cup of flour into the bowl. 

“All I heard was yelling and then when I went to look, both of them stood apart from each other covered in it.” She replied. 

I hummed as I worked the yeast mixture in with the flour, and then returned the flour back into the cupboard. Getting the oil and salt from the same cupboard, I turned and quickly measured it into the bowl. I knew I had some work I wanted to get started on soon but with the meeting tonight and the fact that Clint wasn’t here and he asked specifically for me started my anxiety ramping. I had a feeling this was one of those missions that he was pulled aside by the team for and told that someone else would step in because it was too dangerous, and that he’s got a family, and since I’ve barely been on a handful of missions since I joined the Avengers (Due to time and Lillith) this would be a major one. 

That’s not to say that I was more replaceable than Clint was ; I understood the need for me to go on this mission despite my daughter. I was a supersoldier, and I’ve been through hell and back several times. It was a proven fact that I could survive things a normal human couldn’t. 

I remember one of the mission briefing folders I went over when I first joined. I had spent about a week gathering information beforehand on the team. One of the files I pulled was about what was priority if a mission went south really quickly. The main goal was for everyone to walk out alive, but in this case it was Sam and Clint first, because both didn’t have a full metal suit protecting them all the time and weren’t wearing decent armour due to their skillsets. So those two would be first, then it would be Tony and Wanda. Tony because despite the tin man’s suit, he was still a regular human. And a slightly old one at that. Wanda because she was deemed the best ‘asset’ to shield, with her set of...abilities. Then it would be us, the soldiers, then Hulk and Thor. 

Honestly the reports and such on how the missions were supposed to be conducted were pretty smart, and would be extremely effective if anyone actually paid any attention to them. 

I mixed in the ingredients and shook out some flour from a bowl onto the countertop. God, I love having a kitchen island. Bread is so much easier to make. I dumped the bread mix onto the counter and put the bowl in the sink, and started the process of kneading the dough until it was a soft, squishy ball. 

Wanda and Natasha discussed what exactly happened in the lab, and if Stark and Banner might be trying to hide something from the rest of the team, and I turned my focus inwards, trying to remember the list of tasks I needed to finish for this job. 

They wanted it color coded and be able to run the site the same on mobile as on computers, as well as the possibility of an app. Man, an app would take awhile to make. How much are they paying me again? If it’s not over-

“Oh. Hi everyone!” Chirped a slightly sleepy voice from the right of me. I turned my head to see Lillith, a blanket around her shoulders and hugging her wolf close to her chest. I smiled at the site of her blearly rubbing her eyes before checking the clock on the far wall. She’d slept for almost two hours. 

“Hey, babydoll.” I said as she came up and peered over the counter to see what I was doing. 

“Bread!” She exclaimed, jumping up and down.

I laughed, “Yes, bread.” I said as I slapped it down again and started folding it into a ball.

“Hey Lillith, you wanna watch some movies?” Wanda asked her.  She nodded and followed her into the living room as I put the ball into a greased bowl and covered it with a damp towel. 

Natasha was still on her phone as I cleaned up the counter and washed my hands, and then as I switched laundry. 

I moved to my working area near the bay windows and set a cup of coffee down and booted up the system, as I stretched and glanced at the clock. 

Better get going. 

~~

The next few hours were busy, and ended with me getting up to get another cup of coffee only to learn that there wasn’t any more. And it was almost seven. Wanda had made some dinner and Lillith was watching a disney movie with her on the couch, and Natasha was on her laptop-When she went and got it was beyond me-at the kitchen counter. 

I put my hair up and washed my hands, then took preheated the oven and floured the table.

“Mind if I ask what you’re working on?” I asked her as I shook the dough out of the bowl. She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow,

“Honestly nothing much. Mostly just research for tonight’s meeting.” She replied as she sipped her water.

“Should I be worried about it?” I asked her. 

She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. Our last mission scratched the surface of a bigger Hydra hole, and from the look of it, it’s gonna take several outings to exterminate them all.” 

“Damn. That bad?” 

“Unfortunately, yeah.” She replied. 

I shook my head and started to work the dough. Finally getting it to the consistency I needed, I greased and floured a bread pan and dropped the dough in it. The beep from the oven told me it was ready to be put in, and I set the time for twenty five minutes. I cleaned up the counter and did dishes, then went and switched some laundry and busied myself until it went off again. 

Finally the timer went off and I took it out of the oven and turned it off, and let it cool off before I transferred it to a cutting board. 

I washed up in the meantime and setup another movie for Lillith. Kissing her forehead, I left with the girls to head to the meeting.

~~

“In English, please.” I told Steve as he finished his story about the previous mission. 

“Basically we uncovered a long-term operation by Hydra. We thought it wouldn’t take much but it got to the point where we had to retreat because of how overwhelmed we were getting. And now we need to go back to finish the job, if they haven’t moved on yet. That, and the fact that we know there are two secondary locations we will need to ‘visit’ later.” Bucky summarized.

“And my role in this is..?” I asked. 

“You’re taking my place.” Clint said. He was on call with us, and I could faintly here the kids in the background.

“How bad are we talking?” I asked him.

“Angel of Death bad.” He told me. 

I took a deep breath and steeled myself, letting the process of my instincts take over. 

“Okay.” I replied.

“Angel of Death?” Bruce asked.

“Back when I was in the Marines, my callsign was ‘Angel of Death’. When I was put onto my…special squadron the name carried over. It’s one of the reasons why Fury asked me to join.” I told him.

“Are we talking like my bad, or how bad does it get?” Bucky asked. 

I looked to him. “If I switch into that headspace it’s going to be bad.” I answered. He nodded in response.

“Let’s go over the plans again. We’re leaving at four tomorrow morning.” Steve said.

#avengers x reader #miscfandomwrites #natasha romanoff #black widow x reader #mama #marvel x reader #marvel #natasha x reader

[egginfroggin]

Since I have other fics in progress, I feel like this is a good time to finally talk about the other other version of WTST that I mentioned here.

There is no difference to what Emmet goes through in Hisui, but what goes on with Ingo is. Uh. Worse than in the main fic.

Okay, first, to prevent confusion:

The Future Will Be Special, the Past Was Not (named after the extra stage theme, "Tomorrow Will Be Special, Yesterday Was Not," from Touhou 10: Mountain of Faith) is the companion fic to the main, original Welcome to Sinnoh's Temple fic; it has not been completed yet, unfortunately, but it essentially tells Ingo's side of the story, much in the same way that WTST tells Emmet's side of the story.

A Promise Broken Is a Lie Told is the version of things alluded to in the above post, where Ingo handles Emmet's disappearance... very badly. This is the version of things that I'm talking about in this post.

Fic talk below the cut -- be warned of themes such as self-blame, self-hatred, bad coping mechanisms, and self-isolation. Please let me know if I should tag anything else. Thank you.

Little changed about the incident -- Emmet's disappearance -- itself; it was really more of a hypothetical scenario where Ingo did not handle his grief well at all, taking his twin's disappearance worse than in the main scheme of things, and it leads to him making some very bad choices.

Bad choices include:

Taking all of the blame for Emmet's disappearance upon himself, even though there is really nobody to blame and it was, as far as anyone can tell, a freak accident. However, in the wake of tragedy, it is human nature to want to pin the event on somebody -- Ingo just happened to pin that blame on himself.

Isolating himself from his family. In the original companion fic, his family -- Drayden, Iris, and Elesa -- is a huge well of support for him. They still are in this version of things, but he spirals just a bit too far and, in his desperation to remove himself and his problems from them so as to not be a burden, he keeps them at arms' length, denying himself their support.

Applying value to himself based on things beyond his control. When he and Emmet were little, they lost their parents, and in an effort to comfort both Emmet and himself, Ingo promised that they would always be there for each other. Naturally, that was derailed, and even though it was a mutually-kept promise -- Emmet had insisted that it wasn't fair for Ingo to be the only one upholding it and that it was his promise, too -- he views himself as the one at fault.

As a direct result of the above point, Ingo considers himself a failure because he couldn't keep Emmet close -- whether something stole Emmet away or Emmet left of his own accord, it isn't 100% certain, but what matters is that he's gone.

Coping by "replacing" Emmet with something else to be protected. A way to prove that he does still have value in that he can keep something close to him, or that he's competent in being able to protect something. This is also a way for him to feel somewhat in control.

The replacement feeds into the points about denying himself familial support and keeping himself away from loved ones so as to not be a "burden." How? The last point:

"Proving" himself -- to himself -- by taking the title of Champion And chooses to remain in the Pokemon League, at the end of Victory Road, as much as possible, making it harder for anyone to get to him in the first place.

Surprise, Champion Ingo AU! He gets a coat.

As an aside, to pursue the Champion title, he resigned from Gear Station, thereby also cutting himself off from the Depot Agents -- also known as his family away from home because they are all fantastic beans who care for each other and very much, like a good little healthy work unit.

Speaking of healthy things, Bad Decision number... 6? 7? Number x:

Neglects himself in favor of looking for Emmet in his free time. Of course. He doesn't give himself any time to relax. This worries literally everyone he comes across, because it shows. In multiple ways. He does not look in a good way, even if he's all prim and proper for a challenger. Everyone can tell. Everyone.

He leaves Gear Station about six months after Emmet disappears, traumatizes the Elite Four and Alder, and becomes Unova's Champion. And then proceeds to near-murder every challenger who reaches him.

Politely, of course.

He may be drowning in self-blame that's bleeding into hatred and waging his self-worth on how well he can defend his title, but he's still polite!

Anyway, that's the basis of the fic. It's really an excuse for me to be mean to Ingo, much like how Welcome to Sinnoh's Temple was -- and still is -- and excuse for me to be mean to Emmet.

There is a happy ending. And therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.

Thanks for muddling through this! It's a bit nerve-wracking to post, like Pandemonic Planet, because apparently I am extremely self-conscious about posting self-indulgent things. And frankly, this particular flavor of WTST isn't fundamentally super different -- it's just hypothetical.

But also the urge to justify my hypotheticals is strong, and I... don't have much of a justification for this beyond "hehehe sad train man go brrrrrrrrrr." Sorry.

This is all still in progress, of course, cooking on the back burner behind all my other fics, but some things are subject to change in the future. Things will probably be added or removed as the idea develops.

Have a good day! And please take care of yourselves! <3

#for short I will be calling this #broken au #because it's a heck of a lot shorter than the full name #wtst #pokemon fanfiction #egginfroggintalkin #eggin's writings #cw self destructive behavior #cw self isolation #cw self hatred #all fiction #I'm not sure how to go about tagging this. sorry #submas #subway boss ingo #no ingo does not become a subway boss in this au #but he gets a cool coat! #because from what I can tell #champions have to have drip #it's an unspoken rule #they need a snazzy outfit #so ingo gets one and it has a fancy coat #I have sketched it #or at least a concept idea for it #it will find its way onto here sometime #again. sorry about the angst

[lunadook]

Gonna vent, putting it below the fold so you can skip if you want (cw: social media whining)

I am honestly devastated by the death of Twitter because suddenly this group of people I liked interacting with suddenly moved to various different places and none of them are good substitutes:

Mastodon is OK if you can build a significant network (I'd argue it's the best drop in twitter replacement of anything) but I've had issues with being harassed off instances before, we all know about general issues with instance stability (snouts.online as a prime example) and a lot of my friends didn't end up going there and finding new people isn't as easy to do with the way federation works, I feel. Also the fact that people won't join because they view issues that are a result of leadership of certain instances as a "mastodon" problem, and blame the entire framework for those issues instead of the individuals and instances that are creating them.

Tumblr is probably the place I've settled best into but very few of my friends made it over, I still don't fully integrate with the tagging culture and everything (just not used to it)... Generally things kinda feel a lot more detached. Maybe I'll get better at it.

Cohost is where a lot of my friends decided to call home, but I cannot trust the site, from the way in which the stakeholders/owners/admins of the site market it as something it isn't (for more info on this please read this thread, I think it's worded well), and how when the site owners are met with even the slightest amount of criticism for the way in which they choose to implement a thing, they go throw a huge hissy fit and tell users who aren't very active that "you don't matter anyway" and tell anyone else "fuck all of you I'm just a poor admin please stop messaging me on my personal profile that is literally shoved in every new user's face as someone to follow" (the site admins and the staff account are your first suggested accounts to follow), and then on top of all of that they have no clear path to actual sustainability in terms of the money it costs to pay 6 workers $96K USD a year and then also pay for servers and CDN costs and all the other associated things. That also isn't getting into certain content moderation decisions that I think are questionable.

Reddit always sucked but now it's virtually unusable on mobile and bots for things like sales tracking subreddits don't work and generally the place is way less vibrant now that many users just left entirely after the API-ocalipse.

I don't care about it but Bluesky has a racism problem apparently? And it's just a clone of Mastodon that's missing features and a weird per-category/general idea algorithm which means nothing performs well there unless you learn how to game that algorithm (that no one understands).

Also don't care for it but Threads is not available in the EU, likely due to data collection policies that violate privacy laws there, and that's not getting into how the platform is basically just Twitter 2 with whatever celebs aren't on Bluesky which includes all the bad parts of Twitter culture.

Twitter is a fucking hellscape now, no more comments need to be made on that.

I guess it's not the worst thing ever, because it means I use social media less, but I also feel like I just don't meet as many cool, interesting people anymore. Shit sucks.

#vent #social media

[lunarlegend]

so, just to break down what appears to have happened with Tumblr's latest update:

normally, on web, in order to access all of the posts on someone's blog under a certain tag, you could just type in "blogname.tumblr.com/tagged/skypictures" (fake url, obviously)

if the tag in question has spaces in it (i.e. "sky pictures" instead of "skypictures"), Tumblr automatically replaces those spaces when copying the url and fills them in with "%20". so, the url would become "blogname.tumblr.com/tagged/sky%20pictures". but it would still load to the same page, filled with the same posts.

after last night's update, any links to tags with spaces in them appear to have been broken (at least on my end; i am on the latest version of the Android mobile app). the links still open on web, but when trying to access them on mobile, they instead lead to a blank page telling you nothing was found.

this is obviously a huge issue for people like myself, who meticulously organize their blogs and keep a masterlist of links in their pinned post for easy access. as of right now, two of my major tags (for my OTP and for my OC) can no longer be linked to via text because they contain spaces.

i have been told by some of my friends that my links are still working for them, but after trying everything i could think of last night, i cannot get them to work for me. i don't know if it's a Tumblr issue, an Android issue, or a temporary bug (i know they have been working on redirecting everyone's urls).

in any case, i am extremely frustrated and hoping i don't need to go back and manually change 2 years' worth of tagged posts by removing all of the spaces. 🙃 if anyone has any insight on this or knows anyone else who is experiencing it, please let me know!

UPDATE: so far it seems to be an Android issue, as at least one other person is having the same problem on the Android app.

[mythicaldemigoddess-of-deltarune]

TFA Theory: Ultra Magnus Has Been Megazarak This Whole Time!!!

[Note: No One Is Allowed To Reblog This]

[Edit Of May 30, 2023/Note: Don’t Reblog Without Permission, and that also goes for those who keep ignoring it and keep reblogging anyway, if your doing it on purpose despite how it makes me feel, I will have to kindly ask you to stop it, at least the few who did it had done it by accident and I was able to talk it out with them and find out they didn’t see the “don’t reblog” at first even in the tags, and because things were worked out, and I know it was a accident, I gave them official permission. so anyway, I’m not going to say your name, but you know already perhaps, but please respect my feelings and if you have been doing it on purpose, just please stop it, and when I point out that reading a post is optional, it doesn’t mean that is the same for the “don’t reblog without permission”, just try to understand and don’t EVER do this again...

there is a reason I decided to edit this and cross out well, the “no one is allowed to reblog this rule, of course I have to edit the tags a little bit as well. and anyway, this edit aside, even though I didn’t want to but felt I had to do it because of certain reasons, those who are interested in reading this post that talks about the theory about Ultra Magnus & Megazarak, you can go ahead and read it now, and hope some like this theory and fan-headcanon.]            

Megazarak was the original leader of the Decepticons, and the info about him says that when the decepticons first arose as a sub-faction of the Destrons, Megazarak was their leader. but he ends up being exiled by Megatron, who took over as the new leader of the Decepticons...

see the word "exiled" meaning Megazarak could of still been alive, and possibly is someone who took over Cybertron as Ultra Magnus...

there could of still been a real Ultra who became Ultra Prime, but he never became Magnus....because he was replaced by Megazarak, who pretended to be Ultra Prime so he can get sworn in as Magnus, then he passed that stupid "Decepticon Registration Act"

which turns out, the info on that so called "registration act" That Decepticons had to sign, the info say that the Senate had been planning to brainwash all those who registered,into docile members of society...

and some Mech named Proteus wanted that to happen, and he was a Senator and it seems he and the other Senators of Cybertron, were all rich jerks...

of course his TFA counterpart has to be the same way....I wouldn't be surprised that the Senators in Transformers Prime, are just like the ones in TFA...

at least Alpha Trion is a Mech with a good spark...and he had help Optimus become a Prime...

like in TFA, maybe "Ultra Magnus (who is really Megazarak) didn't originally want to make Optimus a Prime, but did so when he was asked by Alpha Trion. also I think Highbrow Prime from TFA, could of found out that "Ultra Magnus" wasn't the real Ultra, and it might not been the cause of Shockwave when he was Longarm Prime...

it is possible that Highbrow found out Megazarak's secret and was going to tell the rest of the Autobots, but he was taken offline by Megazarak before he could tell anyone the truth.

also Megazarak who made himself look like Ultra Prime, might of knew what the Decepticon Registration Act would do to the Decepticons, that it would end up brainwashing them.

which might of been what he wanted...the Real Ultra, would be held in a secret base belonging to Megazarak, keeping him there while he ran things on Cybertron.

the secret base, could be a world that no one would even think of looking for Ultra, even if someone were to find out the truth...

and that would be Archa Seven, but Megazarak did not leave Ultra in the Decepticon ship called "Twilight"....

there could of been a ship that went to Archa Seven before the Twilight did, but it has not been found....and the ship had belong to Megazarak.

Megazarak may have not have thought another Decepticon ship would end up on Archa Seven, but might be glad no one has found the ship that he was keeping the real Ultra in.

the reason why going to organic worlds for Autobots, is forbidden, might have to do with not just taking them over and getting rid of the organic life on them...

(which might be done by the Decepticons that went with Megazarak when he was exiled, and they became “Autobots” and followed Megazarak’s plan to take over Cybertron his way....which was choosing to replace a Prime that would become a Magnus....and that was Ultra Prime.)

but also because one of them, that is the Archa Seven, has Megazarak's ship and base on it, and it had the real Ultra being held captive there under watch by those who still follow Megazarak.

so if no one had found Megazarak in time, who was still “Ultra Magnus” and he went offline, it is possible this would of made Shockwave a Hero, because in theory this would also cause the REAL Ultra to be free, because he might of been free in two ways, either by Megazarak ordering him to be free, or if Megazarak goes offline, the ship that is also the base, is program with Megazarak’s life signal, meaning it knows if he is still alive or has been wounded to the point of being really close to death’s door...

and since Megazarak aka “Ultra Magnus” was saved in time, the real Ultra was still kept locked up and possibly in stasis, meaning he looks around Optimus’s age and is still technically a Prime, but with Megazarak having made himself to look like Ultra Magnus and even hiding the fact he was once the original decepticon leader named Megazarak before being exiled by Megatron...

Ultra Magnus, is a devil in disguise who’s real designation is Megazarak.

Megazarak had remodeling surgery of some kind to make himself look like Ultra Prime, then he had captured the real Ultra Prime and had some of his best Mechs keep him in cryogenic stasis sleep on the planet Archa Seven on his original ship turned base...

even if this might not be proven to be true in the canon of the show, but it can still be viewed to be true in Fan Headcanon, that the Cybertronian known as Ultra Magnus, the same one that has been shown in the TFA Timeline...

isn’t the real Ultra, and the real one is being held captive and kept in stasis while Megazarak made himself to look like him, so he could replace him and become Magnus instead.

this might be seen as the weirdest and craziest theory ever about TFA...

the Autobots are in the Gray, their beloved Magnus is a two-faced Decepticon who brings shame to the Decepticon Cause!

Frag The Autobot Police! Frag The Elite Guard!

the corruption on Cybertron is real! the Thirteen Primes from TFP had stolen the good half of Primus’s spark and placed it in the planet, and had used a space bridge to banish the half that would become Unicron, the Earth didn’t form around Unicron, he ended up inside it because of the space bridge...well that is the theory anyway...

Primus/Unicron’s original self, was possibly betrayed by the Thirteen Primes, because of that Quintessa we see in one of the Live Action Transformers Movies.

I believe that if she has a TFP Counterpart, she might of  talked The Thirteen Primes into betraying Primus/Unicron, and splitting his spark into two, one will be placed inside Cybertron, and the other will be thrown in through a space bridge...Unicron, was possibly given the name before he was thrown through the space bridge.

I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a Quintessa in TFA’s timeline, and she gave Megazarak the idea to replace the real Ultra Prime and make himself look like Ultra Prime so he can become Magnus instead of him.

guess she would be the “woman behind the man” or in this case, the “femme behind the mech”........not everyone has to agree with this plot twist theory.

but I believe it might be true, that the Ultra Magnus we see in the Transformers Animated, isn’t really Ultra at all and he is really Megazarak who is holding the real Ultra captive and in stasis.

why he doesn’t simply put Ultra Prime offline, is possibly because he needs him alive because the remodeling Megazarak had done to his body, will only keep if the real Ultra is kept alive, if he were to go offline, it would cause Megazarak’s true form to be revealed....why it was made that way, was possibly thanks to Quintessa,  I mean if she has any part to play in this.

so the real Ultra is only kept online, because he is necessary to keep Megazarak’s cover and keep it from being blown.

maybe it will turn out that Megazarak had went through mitosis and is technically the “father/mentor” of Megatron.

the whole Omega Project and it being a weapon of destruction, makes a whole lot of sense now.....it was probably Megazarak’s idea...

couldn’t take it that his son, Megatron might be a better leader.

which if that theory is true, that would mean Megazarak is Sari’s Grandpa.

I still think Megatron had went through mitosis during his stasis coma, and he ended up having Sari, who was a Hatchling Protoform and NOT the same type of Protoforms that were taken from Yoketron.

Megatron should give Blitzwing and Lugnut the “mitosis talk”...and maybe even Starscream, since he might of been around long enough to know about it and it haven’t happen since the Allspark left Cybertron.

Megatron was able to go through the mitosis, possibly thanks to the Allspark...

so yeah, Allspark Feminine & Vector Sigma Masculine.

and Megazarak knew that by throwing the Allspark into space, it would possibly stop the Cybertronians on Cybertron to stop going through the mitosis, and even having to find a alternative way to make new Autobots, which is by using the living metal in the planet and even using just Vector Sigma to give them sparks.

but Autobots taking too much living metal from within the canyon’s of Cybertron, might only be misusing the planet and hurting it, as it needs to regenerate and heal properly.

and if Autobots and Decepticons had any sense, they would team up and stop Megazarak for good and put him in the stockade where he belongs, and free the real Ultra Prime so he can become the True Ultra Magnus.

also there is a reason why I put the “No One Is Allowed To Reblog This”, it has to do with one person who is possibly ignoring the “Don’t Reblog Without Permission” thing I put at the very top, at least a few have done it by accident and I was able to talk to them and work thins out to give them official permission.....but I don’t think it is the case with his person, and I think they are doing it on purpose. which is why I’m placing the “No One Is Allowed To Reblog This” on this post...

so far, it seems it is only certain posts that they have been doing it to, and I’m not really happy with them, and well I signed off yesterday because I wasn’t really feeling all that great because of them, and I ended up going to bed early, and didn’t get to watch Transformers Animated, Transformers Prime and even RWBY that day like I had plan to...

I might do so today, which is good...

anyway I hope some like this theory about “Ultra Magnus” being a fake and turning out to be Megazarak, who in theory could be Megatron’s Father, and also Sari’s Grandfather....since Isaac didn’t marry Megatron, he isn’t Megazarak’s son-in-law, but half of Sari’s human DNA did come from her Adoptive Human Father, who is still her biological father thanks to his DNA being absorbed by the hatchling that would become Sari.

which I think his DNA wasn’t enough, and it might of been a few pieces of hair that fell off of head or mustache when he got shocked by the hatchling,

and his DNA wasn’t enough to make a full scan, and there is no way his gloves could be scan through to get his DNA, so when he was shocked, the hatchling ended up having his hair fall on them, but it couldn’t fully scan the incomplete DNA.

so if Marissa Faireborn had found Isaac passed out on the floor of the lab that Megatron was being kept and also saw the hatchling, she might of not been wearing gloves, and when she touched the hatchling, it was able to use both her DNA and Isaac to turn into a human baby that would become Sari.

so Sari gets her red hair from Marissa Faireborn, and this would mean that Sari has three parents, her human Dad, her Decepticon Dad and her Human Mom.

and Megazarak might be Sari’s Grandfather. 

it is also possible that since Marissa had touched the hatchling without wearing gloves, the shock may have did more damage to her than it did Sari’s Dad, and it could either mean that she had been killed from it, or was very close to death’s door but Isaac had woke up on time to see that she needed help and had her taken to the hospital....but it could turn out she didn’t make it.

but Isaac could of made a bio-synth version of Marissa, and placed a copy of her mind into the body, but then again if he didn’t do that, then that would mean that she would of stayed dead after being shocked by Sari’s hatchling self.

Isaac wouldn’t tell the Sari the truth about her Mother, until she was old enough to understand and didn’t tell her the full truth of her “birth” because he didn’t want her to feel guilty over what happen to Marissa Faireborn.

it be interesting if Marissa was saved on time, but Isaac thought she had died in the hospital after Sari was born, he possibly went to the room she was in with the newborn Sari, and saw she wasn’t in it and just assumed she died.

the doctors were able to save her, but had to give her cybernetic implants to do so. it’s okay if that doesn’t make much sense, even with the whole theory about her being Sari’s Mother, because Sari’s Red Hair is because she had inherited it from Marissa, who also has red hair....

but just like Isaac Sumdac, probably has a white streak in her hair.

anyway I’m sticking to the theory that “Ultra Magnus” is really Megazarak, and I’m viewing it as Fan Headcanon.

but not everyone has to agree about this theory and fan headcanon.

#transformers animated #transformers theory #ultra magnus #megazarak #one in the same #devil in disguise #decepticons #autobots #headcanon #plot twist #mitosis #allspark #do not reblog without permission #may 2023 #mature audiences only #not for kids