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jinkieswouldyoulookatthis · 8 months

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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

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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

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bitchliteraria1906 · 1 year

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Raeda hcs because I've been tired/burned out and these hags are a big source of comfort.

•When they dated for the first time, it was Raine who said "I love you" first. It was impulsive/unplanned, and probably during a moment of vulnerability, which made it even worse. They immediately started panicking and apologizing, only for Eda to chuckle and say it back.

•In their post canon relationship, however, it was Eda. Most likely during a cuddle session that made her feel extremely happy and sappy. She reacted similarly to Raine, apologizing and trying to change the subject, and Raine's reaction was simple: they kissed her, said it back, and then went back to their cuddle position, a big smile on their face.

•She cried, ya'll.

•This was something that kept happening during their first few weeks back together, actually. Eda tearing up at Raine's affection. She would get especially emotional when they did something that reminded her of the good parts of their past relationship, because it shows that, despite all the changes, her Rainestorm is still the amazing witch she remembers at their core, and their feelings for her also haven't changed.

•As much as she was happy to be with Raine again, she kinda hated this part. They made her too vulnerable. It felt pretty pathetic to tear up at Raine just... being sweet.

•It eventually stops happening, and until then, Raine makes sure to always reassure her that it's okay to be emotional when it comes to changes, and that they were also nervous and scared about them being together again, they just hid it better than her.

•Spending so much time in a system that forced them to engage on social situations and perform despite their wishes took a lot of energy from Raine, and it left a lasting impact. Sometimes they're talking to someone and they just... stop. They go non-verbal and need to leave the situation out of nervosism and/or social fatigue.

•They hate it. They trained to get better at public speaking while leading the rebellion, and now it feels like they've lost a lot of their progress.

•When this happens, Eda speaks for them and is extremely patient, waiting until they can talk again and looking out for them.

•They can't sleep in complete darkness because Eda might have one of her "curse-dreams" and need to find her elixir late at night, so there's light glyphs in the room.

•One night, the first night they slept together, Raine found her making the light glyphs and questioned it, only for Eda to info-dump about wild magic for a long time. Raine loved every second of it. Not only were they genuinely curious about glyphs, seeing Eda happy as she talks passionetely about magic is just... Titan, they love her so much.

•So yeah, she teaches them glyphs, including all the glyph combos, and they're actually a pretty quick learner.

•These two watching horror movies together is... an interesting idea. Raine hates jumpscares and Eda laughs whenever a character dies in a stupid way.

•They mostly just watch action movies, it's something they have in common.

•Cleaning the house is just an excuse for them to dance around and sing with brooms as their microphones, much to King's suffering.

•Speaking of which, Raine's singing voice is actually really pretty and comforting, and Eda is one of the few people who get to hear it, since they don't sing in public. Girl has privilegies.

•Okay, so I used to be one of the "Raeda wedding real" people, but when you think about it, the demon realm probably interprets relationships differently than us. I like to think that there's less pressure about dating and settling down with someone, and that they're more accepting of polycules, friends with benefits, qprs, and pretty much every "uncoventional" kind of relationships. My point is, they might have a completely different concept of marriage, especially considering it's patriarcal (is that the word?) origins. Relationship labels are complicated in the Demon Realm, at least for humans.

•So, for now, let's just say Eda and Raine are not in a hurry to get married and stuff. They love each other and that's what matters.

•Sometimes the fact that they lost a big part of each other’s lives keeps them up at night, drowning in guilt and sadness.

•Whenever this happens, they get extra clingy, as if the other would dissapear if they let go. They already have physical touch as their primary love language, but when bad thoughts creep on, they have an even harder time keeping their hands off of each other.

•Raine still plays and whistles Raine's Rhasphody/Eda's requiem all the time. Sometimes they just start doing it out of nowhere, and it warms Eda's heart to see how much the composition means to them.

#the owl house #headcanons #raeda #raeda headcanons #i love them

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where-fading-princesses-live · 4 months

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Hot take. As much as I'm excited to see the new Mean Girls (2024) adaptation of the 2018 Broadway musical (I'm a big fan of both the 2004 movie and the musical), I really hope this doesn't start a new trend of ''musical movie adaptations of Broadway musicals based on movies''.

The 2017-2018 Broadway season saw a lot of new musicals based on classic movies.

Amelie, Anastasia, A Bronx Tale, Groundhog Day, and The Band's Visit (which won the Tony Award for Best Musical in 2018), just to name a few.

Not to mention the more recent ones like Beetlejuice and Back to the Future. The list goes on.

Now if you take movies like Amelie and Groundhog Day for example which became instant cinema classics, the stage versions only enhanced the source material which is what a good musical does.

However, by re-adapting a musical that's based on a movie back into the original medium it started with, it always runs the risk of being an exact repeat of the original movie with added musical numbers, and therefore, feels entirely unnecessary to exist.

I guess that's the main criticism of the new Mean Girls, especially with its weird marketing to hide the fact that it was a musical to not dissuade the old Mean Girls fans or the average movie goer who doesn't like musicals (and this was the main negative response I was seeing from people who went in to the movie theater blind and left halfway through because they were surprised it was a musical and didn't expect the actors to burst into song and this turned them off). But then the absence of musical numbers--narrowing it down to 12 shorter more cinematic pop versions of the original songs and cutting out 14 of the most beloved songs from the stage version--ended up alienating the musical theatre crowd who were expecting a more faithful adaptation of the Broadway musical. Like it's a musical that doesn't even want to be musical.

So who was this movie for exactly? If not for the musical theatre crowd who didn't like the changes to the songs, and if not for the non-musical fans who didn't like the songs regardless, who was this movie for??? It seems the producers wanted to market it more towards non-musical fans, but they really shouldn't have concerned themselves with trying to attract old Mean Girls fans who already know the 2004 movie by heart and wouldn't have accepted a remake, songs or no songs either way. If it was a MUSICAL adaptation, the target audience should have been the dedicated musical fanbase, which is more than the producers give it credit for. Mean Girls the musical has been licensed to high schools and performed by performing arts schools and has gained a lot of popularity that way. There was no shortage of people who would have gone to see this movie, myself included.

My point is, if one is going to go through all the trouble of adapting a musical based on a movie back into a movie, the least it can do is preserve the musical theatre genre.

On the other hand, the new Mean Girls is actually gaining mostly positive reviews despite its flaws, and some are even calling it the best Musical Movie since Chicago.

I've been following its production and I've been listening to the soundtrack non-stop (the changes don't bother me that much, in fact, my only complaint is that the songs are too short like they really should have had the full versions of ''Meet the Plastics'' and ''What's Wrong with Me?'' including its reprise and I just wish they maintained more of the original songs, like I understand cutting out the filler ones like ''Who's House is This?'' because no one would seriously miss that one but songs like ''Where Do You Belong'', ''Stop'', ''Fearless'', and ''More'' would have benefited the score in my opinion because there's so much character development that's missing otherwise). I'm still excited to see it, but I do hope its success doesn't cause a new cinematic trend. I really don't think I want to see Groundhog Day as a musical movie for example, because the Broadway version is so perfect and I would hate for them to ruin both the original movie and the musical.

Mean Girls made some interesting choices to re-adapt its story with mixed results, and I don't think it's a bad thing. But things like this are usually one-hit wonders and I don't want to see Hollywood jump the bandwagon on this one and just leave well enough alone.

#mean girls #mean girls musical #mean girls (2024)#personal shit

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josnhoes · 10 months

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Not sure if my request went through but I’ll ask anyways. Can I request a vigilante!reader? I honestly don’t care about the gender. The reader is younger than Tim but older than Damian. They’re super smart and do tons of martial arts and just a total badass. the batfam has been trying to catch them for a couple of months since the reader been stealing their missions. So one day when the reader is stopping a drug deal and was about to leave. Night wing and robin (Damian) jump in front of them. They have a fight and Damian manages to knock them out. They take the reader back to the bat cave and put them in a cell or something, and like interrogate them. So they find out that the reader is a kid, orphan and knows their secret identities because like I said, they’re super smart. Bruce sees the potential and gives them a option. Ether be adopted by him or go to jail. Reader and Damian are against the idea but the reader has no choice but to agree?

Kinda got rid of the no choice thing. Since this is non-yandere, Batman isn't the type to force this or actually have reader arrested.

Content warnings: none aside mentions of canon style violence and crimes.

You never thought the Bat would stoop so low. Threatening you with jail time as if *he* and his not so little brood didn't do the same things you did. Vigilantism was a crime but yet there were sanctioned heros too! What you were doing wasn't any different from them. Would he have superman arrested if it was the same situation?

"This is bullshit Bruce." You glared. "Why have me arrested when I've been fucking *helping* you?" Normally you didn't curse so much but you were angry and handcuffed so you couldn't exactly lash out any other way.

He knew you knew who he and his brood were. You'd made that known as soon as you woke up threatening to release the information with proof if he didn't let you go. Which just made him want to help you more. As angry as you were, you were just a kid. A teen with no family who had so much potential, "It's because you were helping that I haven't turned you in yet."

Damien knew his father was bluffing. Bruce was not the type to get someone arrested over this behaivor. No he was more likely to have you leave Gotham or send you to work with a group to learn. "Father let us be done with this. Send them on their way. We don't *need* anyone else on the team nor in the manner. And *clearly* they don't wish to be here." Really Damien didn't want someone taking his place on the team. He was the blood son and the rightful Robin!

"Listen to him, I don't know what crawled up your batty butt; but this isn't fucking cool." You glare felt impressive but the two watching you could only picture a feral kitten hissing.

Bruce relented uncuffing you, "You have potential. If you change your mind and want a place to be taught and call home you know where I am." The fact it had been a bluff now painfully obvious to you.

"Don't count on it old man. I... I won't actually leak you and your family's identities." The second sentence was quieter as you left the cave.

Damien glared at your back as you left, "Father are you certain about this? They're a liability."

"No Damien I don't think they are." Brice hoped eventually you'd join him and the family until then he'd have the team looking after you where he could. Maybe you'd do better with Jason? Regardless he had work to do and was choosing to ignore the way his son was pouting....he meant glaring.

#batfam x reader #dc x reader

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knickknacksandallthat · 3 months

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sorry to bother but do you have a plan of when part 4 will come out

ofc it’s perfectly fine if you’re not ready, from the looks of it this is a really big project

Hi anon!!

Oh my goodness, no it's no bother at all! Honestly, I would much rather be talking about fic writing than doing boring things like making a living (which consumed MY LIFE last week).

Ha! And you said it - this fic series has definitely been all-consuming. But I really love this particular AU, so let me tell you I've been working on it non-stop whenever I have time and have the following figured out so far:

My outline currently has the next fic at 12 chapters, though I have a sneaky suspicion that it'll become longer.

I have 53K written so far (but that's before editing😅).

It will have alternating POVs between Jean and Jeremy.

I wish I could give you a better sense of timing, but honestly it all comes down to my work schedule and what free time I have. At this point, I feel like I'm aiming toward April - but don't quote me.

And because I haven't posted something about Once in a Blue Moon on here for a while, here's a new snippet to chew over while I keep hustling as a thank you for your patience! 🥹

OIAB scene under the cut:

The LA airport is hot and muggy. It makes sweat bead down Jean’s neck and uncomfortably gather beneath his collar. Though he wears the lightest long-sleeve shirt he owns, the material still feels constricted and stifling, sticking to his skin. He has the insane urge to tear the garment off him and walk around bare-chested just to feel some relief. Of course, he would never do so. In fact, the mere thought of it makes him pull his sleeves down farther, covering the backs of scar-ridden hands. At least his head is cool. He runs a hand over his buzzed scalp once more, the fuzzy feel of it still odd to him. Abby had suggested it so they could see his stitches better. And since so much of his hair had been pulled out anyway, it seemed to make sense. Still, he hates how foreign the feeling is. He’s a stranger in his own skin. Has been, for some time he thinks. He glances up anxiously at the clock on the wall, his knee bouncing as he waits. His flight landed ten minutes ago, and he thought his captain would be waiting here to greet him. Apparently, he thought wrong. Laughter erupts from behind him, and Jean jumps. He immediately spins around, only to find a family standing nearby, laughing at the antics of their two-year-old. He watches them for a moment before slowly turning back, clasping his hands in front of him and clutching them tight. Anxiety slowly begins to creep under his skin. Had he gotten the day wrong? Or the time? Did something happen between Palmetto and here that caused a delay? Should he call someone to ask? He opens his phone and looks through the few contacts on his list. Abby Winfield David Wymack Jeremy Knox Kevin Day Renee Walker Jean scowls. His preference would likely be Abby or Renee, though he thinks the latter would have no information useful for this. Wymack, he would tolerate. He skims over the fourth name on the list because he’s never thinking of that fucker again in his entire life, if he can help it. Then he stares at the fifth name, the contact information for him uploaded without his knowledge into this new phone Abby got him. Jeremy Knox. Starting Trojans Striker. #11. Played 52 games last season, scored 41 goals, and had 36 assists. Captain of the USC Trojans for three years straight. Fifth-best striker in the NCAA. (Fourth, now that Riko is gone.) Weaknesses: favors left side for goals, left knee injury in his sophomore year of high school, and overly attached to wellbeing of teammates. Jean scowls again. If Knox is anything like the person who recommended him, he’s bound to be both a waste of Jean’s time and breath. After all, he can certainly strike punctual off the list.

Thanks again for the ask, anon!

#sassy baguette #oh we got a whollleeee arc coming up for this one #just you wait #jean moreau #jeremy knox #once in a blue moon #my works #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #fic asks #lovely people #thanks for the ask anon!

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quietbluejay · 27 days

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Godblight 3

wait I forgot to make the "it has been 0 days since our last Guilliman Leeroy Jenkins incident" joke earlier

oh no a plague imp manifested in Fabian's room Fabian: stay there! jskhflksdj then he gets dressed and i thought he was going to run to get Lucerne but he just shot the imp

except that oops! all plague daemons lucerne arrives dramatically to save him

ku'gath wearing a plague doctor mask

I've said it so many times but the nurglings deserve to be animated so badly i hope the henry cavill warhammer miniseries has ugly cute nurglings lmaooo and then he tests it on the nurglings ku'gath, who hates nurglings: sweet silence

gahhh i know i should space out my reading of this more and not finish tonight but i want to knowww

open the gates stop having them be closed

Mathieu outplayed Guilliman a part of me admires him for this i gotta cheer for the little guy getting one up on the primarch oh boy

i love this subplot so much even as it fills me with horror

and now we're back to ku'gath and he's here making sure everything looks good when mort shows up

rip ku'gath, who shrunk the cauldron beforehand this presentation isn't going well

man mort is so obnoxious oh??? mort is being nice now??? mort: ok that's actually sick welp that was fast ku'gath mentions the new war and mort immediately loses his temper anyways ku'gath is sharing the info from the tattleslug

im wheezing for real here

mortarion: THINK, ku'gath, think! also ku'gath is a mood tfw you build a very cool feature and the non-devs are like "meh, okay, that's it?" This whole scene really feels like when you're doing a presentation for the product people of the new feature you've built.

and there we go

and mort dramatically leaves after offending ku'gath's pride some more leaving one pitiful nurgling behind to look sadly at ku'gath rip nurgling it gets squashed

i wish i could unread about orifices and squeezing a rain of monsters free from birthing canals but at least it's supposed to be cursed oh no not the mucus again well this is the nurgle book and the giant monster is also poopin everywhere all the little monsterlings happily following their monstermom peak nurgle

its not just me right, anyone else feeling the tolkien here again?

oh nice job idiots try to get civilian to be quiet accidentally kill him his daughter starts screaming

idk what it is about warhammer40k that makes me want to give everyone a prize when they show basic decency probably because the next minute, they commit war crimes

oh boy the matter is resolved but not really oh, he did give in :(

fabian got the one flippant black templar who has ever existed we're back to this duo again

i have a bad feeling about what's going to happen here and i think im genuinely attached to these guys so i really hope im wrong shakes fist at guy haley

yeppp he went into the library oh hey guilliman got to save felix in dramatic fashion

well this is going to be. interesting. annd he successfully baited Mortarion out

mort: immediately starts gloating guilliman: my turn for gun

….i have a bad feeling about where the whole divinity subplot is going to take us

are you feeling it now mr krabs

OH WE'RE GETTING TO SEE A FLASHBACK GUILLIMANS MEETING WITH THE EMPEROR AND MORT IS ALONG FOR THE RIDE

ohhhh man

what is the emperor

oh they managed to take out ku'gath honestly that was a baller move slamming into him with a tank then jumping on him with power sword ope

Emperor manifestation??? (note from future bluejay: reactions to the rest of this scene can best be summed up as: AAAAAAAAAAAAAA)

i did rob just apotheose but also what a statement wow

okay so i guess not

but was that like…possible future deity guilliman possessing mortal guilliman?? was it the emperor but also it said "i am roboute guilliman" guilliman as the avatar for the emperor??

okay i guess the issue is. on hold?? orrr not oh no

the emperor couldn't have left a message himself during the possession? oh the emperor is keeping Mathieu alive even though he's got super plague oh no what does he have to say

oh no what's on the throne

so because of all the warp juice floating around, faith is more powerful. grrreat

Oops I've hit image limit so this is going to have to finish on another post

#warhammer 40k #bluejay reads warhammer

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little-tyrant-gortash · 4 months

Text

Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 2,204

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19.

Chapter 20.

Chapter 21.

Chapter 22.

Chapter 23.

Chapter 24.

Chapter 25.

Chapter 26.

Chapter 27. ⬇

Chapter 28.

Chapter 27: The Dark Urge

After lighting some candles, she sat back on the bed again, exhausted and hungry, once again. Enver stopped beside the bed, then reached for the backpack he placed just beside it.

"After you've left, I started to research the subject", he rummaged through the bag, and Tav frowned.

"How did you know?"

"Well, after you've said yourself that your cycles returned to normal, I immediately thought that that couldn't be. Thinking about all the evenings you've spent with me, then, your midnight craving, the way you avoided wine… thinking back on all of these, it was clear as day. I was just surprised you didn't notice."

Tav blushed beet red and looked away.

"I guess I was distracted."

"By what?" Enver mumbled with a frown.

"By the gods Enver, what do you think?" She huffed, running a hand in her hair. "It's all your fault."

"So you're blaming all of this on me?" He chuckled, finally lifting a smaller bag from his backpack.

"Definitely. After all, you made this possible", she motioned at her lower stomach.

"I'll gladly take all the blame", he chuckled, sitting next to her with the bag in his hands. "You wanted to have a child, and I could give it to you. I feel like that finally, I could do something right."

Tav frowned slightly at his choice of words. She tilted her head a little, then brought her hand up to touch his back to rub it. He felt… relaxed. Calm.

"While the timing could've been better… thank you", she said then, then shook her head with a smile when her stomach rumbled. "I just wish that I could keep something down. Anything."

"That's why I brought these", Gortash opened the bag and showed it's contents to her. To her surprise, it was full of cookies. "These have ginger and lemon in them, both should help with nausea."

"Did you make them?" She asked as she got a cookie out of the bag.

"No", he laughed lightly, "I'm afraid that this exceeds my expertise in the kitchen."

"Do you have any idea how many times I've been thinking of those steaks you've made for me in the past few days?" She sighed as she slowly munched on the cookie.

Gortash chuckled again, shaking his head as he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer to himself to kiss her temple.

"Move in with me", he murmured, "ever since I've known… I kept thinking about how dangerous it is for you out there."

Tav weighed her options. She could still meet her friends and try and plot everything with them during the day; it'd also be nicer to sleep in a bed. Lately, her back was slowly killing her whenever she slept in her bedroll. And she was almost constantly exhausted. Coupled with the small portions of food, bad quality rest and everything in between… it'd be definitely a positive change if she slept in a proper bed, and more importantly, with him around to help her if she needed it.

"Alright", she bit from the cookie again. It really helped with her rebelling belly. "I'll just go back to camp to gather my stuff, alright?"

"I'll need to be back at Wyrm's Rock Fortress tomorrow morning."

"Well, I could go to camp right now", she shrugged, "it's not that late. We can meet back here and go there together."

"Do you think I'd allow you to go back to your camp alone?" He raised a brow.

"No need to be so protective, Your Grace", she finished the cookie and booped his nose with a giggle, which made him furrow his brows even more. "I'll be fine. It's just a ten minutes walk away. It's not even dark yet."

Gortash contemplated arguing, but then, he decided not to. Her tempers could rise so much easily than a few weeks ago, and while he wanted to have things his way, he decided not to upset her again. Yet, anyway.

"Fine. But hurry back."

"Of course I'll hurry back", Tav promised, kissing his cheek before she got up and left the room.

Hurrying down the stairs and out of Sharess' Caress, she made her way straight back to the camp with a smile permanently stuck to her face. For once, her future looked much brighter than she thought it ever would; apart from a few nuances, all was well, and would be well, too.

But as Gortash warned her at their first meeting, there were people who were following her. Not just allies kept their eyes on her, but also those who wanted to turn inside out.

At the first corner where she had to turn right, just before she could reach her camp, she was abruptly stopped by a huge figure. She had to tilt her head back to look at the stranger's face. Even though he was wearing a hood, she could see that he was a dragonborn; his scales pale white, his eyes a burning crimson.

Rage. He looked like he was full of rage.

Tav took half a step back, but his right hand shot up and grabbed her arm. She struggled against him and opened her mouth to scream for help when he moved a piece of cloth against her nose and mouth with his free hand. The edges of her vision blurred and darkened until everything was consumed by the nothingness.

Pacing up and down, he counted the minutes. The room grew darker and darker still, and once again, darkness brought no comfort, no confidence.

Just agitation.

Something was wrong. He could feel it.

Casting the shape shifting spell, he donned the appearance of the redhed elf again, then fled the brothel, making a beeline for her camp. He'd made it in such a little time that his nervousness only grew.

"Who are you?" Gale arched a brow, looking him over suspiciously.

Gortash didn't want to waste time on an explanation. He broke his concentration, revealing himself, allowing Gale no time to react before he snapped:

"Did she make it back to camp?" Gale blinked, then dread visibly overwritten anything else he had on his face. Gortash grew impatient fast. "Did she make it back to camp?!" He shouted at the wizard.

"N-no. No, she didn't."

Gortash spun on his heels and went back to the alley where he came from, looking for clues. Gale followed him, Karlach and Shadowheart in tow.

"What happened?" Karlach asked, and Gale answered:

"Apparently, Tav should've made it back to camp", he furrowed his brows as he looked after Gortash.

"What?" Shadowheart whispered. "I thought she was with you, Gortash."

"She was", he confirmed in an almost detached tone. "She insisted coming back here to pick up her things. We planned going back to Wyrm's Rock Fortress together."

"Why didn't you come with her?" Shadowheart snapped.

Gale glanced at the Cleric. It was unlikely she'd snap in a way like this at anyone, especially at the tyrant who gave them many reasons to be wary of. But Gortash wasn't focusing on her tone.

"I trusted her to come back to our meeting point without a problem. She's strong and resourceful, I did not expect her to get into trouble. Especially because the camp is just a few minutes away."

"In her state, you should've came with her", Shadowheart snapped again, even angrier, this time.

"Her state?" Karlach echoed. "What does that mean? What state?"

Neither Shadowheart nor Gortash answered. Gale said nothing, but the way his expression shifted with confusion, realisation and then finally, sorrow and heartbreak, spoke volumes that he suspected the truth. Karlach, though, remained looking puzzled. Nobody answered her question, though.

In the meantime, Gortash found some clues. It appeared that a heavy person had been dragging someone much lighter there recently, straight to a manhole, leading down to the sewers. He cursed under his breath. He hadn't had much with him right now, but he wouldn't waste time going back to his home for weapons. He had to make do with what he had with himself: his spells, his dagger, and his ability to call upon Bane's Black Hand, should he need it.

Seeing that he wasted absolutely no time to go down, the other three exchanged confused glances.

"Wait, what's the plan?" Karlach asked Gortash then.

"We go down, find her captors, tear them to pieces and bring her out", Gortash grunted as he removed the lid.

"I like the sound of that, actually", Karlach smirked. "Especially the "tear them to pieces" part."

Gortash almost smiled. Almost.

"We'll split on the way so we cover more area. You can use your tadpoles to communicate from a distance with each other, I'll go alone and rely on myself, as always." He straightened up and glanced at the other three with a look that could strike terror into the heart of the fiercest warrior. "We're not leaving the sewers until we find her, understood?"

All of them looked surprised at how fast Gortash could whip out a plan they all agreed with.

"Understood", Shadowheart said on their behalf, and couldn't resist adding, "this sounds like a good plan."

"A good plan indeed." A silky voice broke the sudden silence. Astarion approached them, revealing himself from the shadows, dressed in a different set of clothes – which made Shadowheart snort. "Who are we searching for?"

"You just go back to your palace, Ascendant", Shadowheart teased him, "unless you want to change those clothes again."

"Why, if Tav is in danger, I'm nothing if not helpful." His voice was still calm and quiet, but his eyes burned with crimson fires. "Do we know who took her?"

"Since I have plenty of enemies", Gortash growled, "we'll see."

"It's dangerous to be your ally, is it not?" Astarion whispered, his eyes trained on the tyrant who made no move and gave no clue how the vampire's words made him feel. "One wonders if it's even wise to even talk to you, let alone-"

"Do you want to help us find her then, or not?!" Shadowheart snapped again. "Every minute counts! Shut up, make yourself useful for once and try to find her!"

And with that, she brushed Gortash out of the way and started to climb the ladder down without hesitation. Gale and Karlach followed without saying a word, leaving the tyrant and the Ascendant behind.

Gortash stared at the pale elf with as much malice as he could muster.

"What are you waiting for?" Astarion's smile looked dangerous. "Go on."

"I'm not turning my back on you", Gortash growled.

"Haha!" Astarion gave a little laugh, "you think you're very clever, aren't you?" He glanced up at the stars before he looked back at Gortash, his crimson eyes burning with hatred. "Let's play a game. If you find her first, she's all yours. But if I do, she's mine."

Gortash's brows twitched for a split second.

"This isn't a game, and she's not some prize to be won."

"Oh, please, spare me your fake rigtheous bullshit", Astarion waved him off as if he was fly. "You are a tyrant. If anyone believes she has a free will of choosing who will she spend her days with, they're not just gravely mistaken but also horribly stupid. With you, she doesn't have a choice."

"Why, does she have a choice with you?" Gortash snapped, his voice dangerously quiet.

"No", Astarion's lips twitched, then curled up into a small smile. "But she could never resist me. By now, you must've learned what I am."

"A vampire."

"Not just a regular vampire", Astarion tutted, "the Vampire Ascendant."

"Shiny title for someone who visibly has nothing else to his name." Gortash shifted closer to Astarion, clearly stepping into his personal space. The pale elf said nothing, he did not move, but his eyes flashed dangerously once more. "The only reason you're able to parade around in my city like a reanimated corpse is because you're useful to me. Every little act of yours makes her turn to me for protection even more than ever. But I'm growing tired of your empty threats. Cross my path the wrong way and you'll see that even a Vampire Ascendant can suffer and die."

"You are but words", Astarion whispered.

"Test my patience", Gortash challenged, his voice a low growl, "I dare you. It's wearing very thin, with every word you utter."

"Then let's get back to business", Astarion's brows lowered even more, and he snarled. "If I find her first, she'll be mine, and she'll become my spawn. She'll have no choice but to obey my every whim. We'll see how you'll like it when she gives me a lapdance at your next ball, Archduke."

The thought of Astarion changing her surely would mean that Tav would lose their unborn child. Gortash would not let that happen under any circumstances. He'd defend his own blood at any and all costs. It seemed that the very air around him darkened.

"If you touch a single strand of hair on her head, I will end you as painfully as possible."

"We'll see", Astarion purred, then shifted into his bat form and disappeared into the sewers.

Gortash cursed and followed him.

#Oathbreaker #little tyrant [enver gortash]#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg 3 #enver gortash #archduke enver gortash #lord enver gortash #fanfic #Oathbreaker fanfic

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csaventing · 5 months

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all I can think about is how badly I wish it never happened. I wish he never touched me, never raped me, never trafficked me - I was four years old when it started and all I wanted was for my dad to love me. I just didn't know it'd be like that. I wish it wasn't like that, because I know now that's not love, but I didn't then. I wish I was normal and didn't have a panic attack just from hearing a certain kind of talk on TV. I wish my stepdad didn't intentionally trigger me whenever he felt like it and tried to frame it as "making sure I knew what was going on in the world". he has no idea about the things I've seen, done, and had done to me. I have had knives held to my throat. a gun to my head. my head held underwater until I was kicking and scratching. there is so much more that I have to keep locked inside because I'm so afraid the people I love will see me differently. I haven't even told anyone about the induced miscarriage. I can't. I can barely deal with the fact that one of those horrible men got me pregnant at 11, much less talk about it out loud. I just wish it never happened. I wish I had a normal, happy childhood - the one my mom gave me, who had primary custody. if my brother's mom never convinced my biological father to bring my mom to court to ask for 80/20 custody (his being 20%), it never would've happened. he didn't even want me when I was born. sometimes I think that's why he did all of this - to get back at me, the child he didn't want but was then stuck with. I would sob and beg to stay home whenever it was his weekend, but my mom didn't know what was happening, and I never told. I had to go because it was court-ordered, but I know why I threw those 'fits' now and it does kind of hurt that no one looked any deeper into it. I feel guilty about that, because my mom worked so hard to give me everything she could, and she really is my everything too. I don't blame her. She's the one that got me help when I started talking about my CoCSA trauma with her, even if it took a little while for her to understand why it upset me so deeply.

I have five siblings through him, and as far as I know, the ones that know him weren't abused like me, and for that I'm grateful. I truly am. my second youngest sister was born when I was 10, and my youngest brother is autistic and mostly non-verbal. neither of them wouldve been able to tell anyone what was happening. my older sister was adopted by her stepfather. our surprise younger brother never even met him - didn't even know who he was for fifteen years.

I'm glad it didn't happen to them, as far as I know. I know my older sister lived with him for a while, and I can only hope she was safe there. I can only hope my little sister didn't have to suffer the same pain I did. I was too scared, and I left when I was 12. he didn't pursue me, and I hate myself for it, but it hurt. after all those years, it was so easy for him to drop me. now I have to live with the consequences of his actions, and he gets to live as a free man (so long as he keeps jumping counties - they need to stop letting him out on his own recognizance). I haven't been free since I was four years old.

and I just wish it didn't have to happen to me to begin with.

(thank you so much for the safe space you provide here 💖)

#survivor #tw csa implied #tw csa #csa vent #trauma vent #actually traumatized #trauma #tw csa mention #tw csa vent #tw cocsa #tw trafficking #tw human trafficking #tw sex trafficking

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cha0ticspacebi · 1 year

Text

You're An Image Caught in Time: Chapter 3

You got your soulmark when you were very young. You knew who you hoped had left their mark but since they never said anything to you, you resigned yourself to a life of bitter unrequited love. As much as you wanted to meet your soulmate you knew after all these years they must not want to meet you. Though the mark never faded some days you wished it would. Especially after meeting Billy.

☆ Since I've been sucked back into tumblr I thought I'd share my fics from over on A03 here. You can find me over there as Cha0ticBi ☆ Master list link!

Childhood Friends! Eddie Munson X Reader

Tags: 18+ NSFW (MDNI), slowish burn soulmate AU, reader is in an abusive relationship with Billy Hargrove, Dark! Billy, Eddie is a sweetheart but bad at feelings, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, eventual happy ending

Warnings: rape/non con elements, emotional and physical abuse, graphic depictions of violence, suicidal thoughts

Chapter 3/28 Previous chapter → Next chapter

Warning: Sex scene with Billy where he ignores the word No. Repeatedly. If you'd like to skip that stop reading at ** and then pick up again at the next **

Your brain raced. God no. Anyone but him! How would you get through this class now? You’d never considered intentionally failing anything before but now it was looking like a pretty appealing choice. Your ears twitched listening to the next direction.

“You’ll have the rest of class to get started. I expect that you come up with an idea and get started with a materials list. Go on, get with your partner and don’t waste time.”

You melted into your desk, back almost completely flat against the seat. You became aware of everyone around you moving and a pair of white Reeboks appearing in your limited line of sight.

“Come on now, working with me can’t be all that bad?”

His voice sent chills through your body as you wiggled your way back up. It had been years since the two of you actually had a conversation. It’s deeper than I remember. It took all your will power to repress the memories that wanted desperately to come flooding back into your consciousness.

“Please Eddie? Just one more story?” you gave him the cutest puppy dog eyes.

“No,” he closed the book he’d been reading to you, “You need sleep. School starts tomorrow.” He looked out the window, “The lights are off over there. Just stay here tonight.”

He crossed his arms with a loud sigh, “Look, you might not want to do this but I need to pass this class or I might actually just say screw it and drop out this time. So let’s just agree that while both of us might not like it, we just suck it up and make the best of it, deal?”

You nod, “Deal.”

In reality you didn’t hate the idea of working with him. It was the other way around. He’s been avoiding you for years but now he’s got no choice but to talk to you if you both want to pass. A small part of you is happy to have your friend back even if it's just for a moment and even if he’s being a total jerk about it. There’s also the little issue of Billy.

“So,” he sat in the now vacant desk next to you, “The only thing I know about plants isn’t strictly legal so I don’t imagine it will help us very much, you got any ideas?”

You chuckle awkwardly, avoiding looking him in the eyes, “None. I’ve never tried to grow anything and beyond putting a seed in the dirt and watering it I’m fucking clueless.”

“What else is there?” he looks to the other side of the room, the room already abuzz with ideas and plans being hatched, “Why don’t we start with something simple? What kind of plant should we grow?”

“Flowers,” you answer immediately.

He smiled, “Look at us making plans. But I don’t think daffodils will grow that fast. We have to finish by December.”

Did he? You still refuse to look at him but now your brows lower and scrunch together, the wheels in your head are turning, Did he really remember my favorite flower? You listened to another group discussing flowers as well, one of them mentioned marigolds.

“What about marigolds?” shifting your head you looked at him from the side.

“Sounds good to me, like I said, only plant I’m familiar with is cannabis, don’t think Ms. First-time-being-tardy would appreciate that very much.”

“I’ve been tardy before,” your mind whisks you back to the day last year when Billy made you almost completely miss 4th period.

Eddie shifted in the desk, “Whatever. So now what are we going to do with these flowers?”

You sit there for a minute literally scratching your head when you remember something. When you were in middle school your mom used to take you to visit your grandmother during the summer before she passed away. Grandma loved gardening and mentioned to you one time that even a plant’s mood could improve with the right song.

“Music?” you are facing him now. It’s so hard not to get distracted by how different he looks. As a kid his hair was shorter, but those soft chocolate brown eyes haven’t changed at all, “Have you heard that old saying that you should play music to plants? Well we could set up an experiment to determine if music actually helps plants grow better. We could have a control plant that we leave alone, then test our hypothesis with different kinds of music, maybe you could even play guitar for one?” Your mouth gets excited talking and apparently doesn't know when to stop, Does he still even play?

It was the middle school talent show. He and his band Corroded Coffin played. You went just for an excuse to get out of the house. You snuck in after it had already started, Chrissy Cunningham was doing some cheer stunt and the applause started shortly after you sat down.

“Up next,” the teacher looked annoyed, “A musical number from…Corroded Coffin? Is this right?” she mumbled the last part as she stepped off to the side.

Eddie stepped out with his bandmates, his guitar flung over his shoulder.

Eddie stared at you. His eyes blown wide with a tiny smile creeping its way in, “Yeah, yeah I guess I could.” He sat up and leaned closer to your desk, “We could play metal for one of them and then whatever crap you listen to.” You could swear there was a hint of teasing in his words even as he insulted you. His tone was so different from Billy’s, even though he was teasing you knew it was playful.

“Excuse me sir, Kate Bush isn’t crap.” You pulled out a notebook and started writing down all the ideas you’d just rambled off together and began thinking of the materials you’d need. Class was almost at an end when the teacher called for you to bring up your ideas. Without missing a beat you just wrote both of your names up at the top and got up to go turn it in.

“Trying to take all the credit?” He says after you return.

“Oh, I just went ahead and um, I wrote your name for you.” You looked away from him again as you gathered your items. As soon as the bell rang you bolted without another word.

Lunchtime rolled around again and you headed to your corner of solitude. Except today you found yourself oddly interested in what was going on on the other side of the lunchroom. You tried to focus on the book in your hand but your eyes had other ideas. Eddie was sitting with his hellfire club. You knew through the rumor mill what people thought of him, they’d call him satanist, trailer trash, stoner, freak. Not unlike some of the shit he used to deal with even as a kid. Nancy’s brother Mike and his friend Dustin had just joined them this year, he had quite the little group going, you watched quietly as they all laughed. He looks happy. Your brain decides to add to the internal conversation going on in your head. You instantly regret risking one last glance because he’s also staring, right at you. Lowering your head you go back to the book that you’re not even really interested in but looking busy is better than being that weird kid eating alone because they don’t have anyone else to sit with.

You pull your headphones on and make your way outside towards the school bus at the end of the day. The music in your ears blocking out the sound of everything around you, so much that you don’t hear the footsteps approaching from behind. Your pulse flares up as you are grabbed from behind. Billy’s arms wrap around your waist pulling you away from the bus.

You smile and hug him back when you realize it’s him, “Billy! What are you doing here?”

“Jeez what is with you lately? Can’t a guy surprise his best girl with a ride home?” He flicks the cigarette butt away as he looks around. He clicks his tongue and grabs you, “Let’s go.”

As you walk to Billy’s car you see Eddie from across the lot. Billy looks back at him and then to you, “I told you to tell me if he bothers you. He say something to you?”

You debate whether to mention the project, if you get all the work done in class Billy doesn’t really need to know about it. Then again, the teacher did say it would require outside time. Maybe I should just tell him?

“No, not exactly,” you try to keep your tone light and conversational, “I did have to talk to him though because our biology teacher paired us together for a project.”

“Just go in tomorrow and ask for a new partner. The freak should work by himself anyways,” Billy started the car and sped out of the lot leaving a dust cloud behind him. He continued speaking as you drove away, “Listen sugar I’m older than you and what sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t tell you to watch out for the wrong kind of people. Munson? He’s the wrong kind of person. Stay away from him.”

You wanted to believe that Billy really did have your best interests at heart but you knew Eddie. Sure he was a jerk for ignoring you for years but you knew him…didn’t you? Maybe he really has changed since back then? Either way Billy didn’t want you around him so you would have to go into class tomorrow and hope that the teacher would give you a different partner.

Billy continued driving past where he should have turned to the Forest Hills Trailer Park. He eyed you from the driver’s seat, “Thought you could stay with me tonight. I’ll even drive you to school tomorrow.” You smiled and touched his leg as he drove towards his place.

It started raining when you pulled up in front of Billy’s house. You held your bag over your head as you followed him in. Max was inside working on homework with her headphones in. She seemed like a nice kid, you wished you could talk to her more. Billy closed the door to his room and immediately took his shirt off and began lifting weights. Despite his flaws there was a reason you fell for Billy in the first place. He was incredibly good looking and sometimes he made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Sometimes. Robin’s words from earlier played in your head. You pulled out a notebook and worked on some homework while watching him from the corner of your eye. It didn’t take him long to notice your frequent looks.

“You want something?” He questioned while continuing to life the large weight in his hand, “You’ve been eye fucking me since we got home. Don’t think I haven’t fucking noticed.”

You stumble over your words, trying not to sound defensive, “N-no Billy, I’m sorry I’m just having trouble focusing is all. I think I might just go to bed.”

“Seriously? I invite you over to stay the night and you’re just going to go to bed?” He stopped working out and wiped his forehead with a rag, “Don’t be silly baby, come here and I’ll give you what I know you want.” He snatched your notebook and tossed it to the floor. His mouth was on yours before you could protest further, you didn’t dare try to stop him so you just let it happen. He continued kissing you and rubbing his hands all over your body. You’d been with Billy long enough to know that it was in your best interests to play along if you weren’t in the mood. You reached up and touched his chest, maybe if you could get him to finish he’d let you just go to sleep. He ripped your shirt and bra off in one uncomfortable swoop before pinching your nipple sharply. You cried out.

“Yeah slut tell me how much it hurts, I know you like it rough.” Billy sucked the soft tissue of your breast so hard it left a bruise. He pushed you down into his mattress and yanked off your pants. His teeth sinking into your thigh so hard you were sure it’d draw blood this time. Tears spilled down the side of your face, almost sliding into your ears as he bit down hard again and again, “That’s a good whore. Tell me more! Louder! Scream my name!” He was yelling, sending your brain into a spiral.

Tears fell harder from your now red eyes but all that did was encourage him, you screamed out in pain, “Billy! Please stop Billy, it hurts. Please, I can’t take anymore,” you begged, eyes stinging from the mix of sweat and tears, “No more! Please…please stop,”

He spit inside your cunt as he pushed your legs back before immediately plowing into you. You screamed again. He finally gave your legs some relief as he moved up to your neck. He licked up the side of your neck tasting your tears.

“I love fucking you so good that it brings you to tears,” he bit the tender skin along your neck so hard that you knew there was no way you’d be able to hide the mark he left. Even with make up you’d still be able to see it. He pulled back and looked down at you and he fucked harder, “You’re going to leave that mark there. Everyone in that fucking hicktown school will know who you belong to, especially your new friend Munson.” He left more marks. Making sure to cover both sides of your throat.

Every part of you felt sore as he finally finished and fell asleep.

The next morning just as he promised he drove you to school, not giving you any chance to cover the marks on your neck. He even packed your bag for you which you thought was a cute gesture until you realized that he’d taken your makeup out of your bag. You hoped it was all in your head but you could swear everyone was staring at you all morning. You fiddled with your hair constantly trying to hide it. He’d left hickies before but this. This looked more like he took a baseball bat to your throat. You dreaded having to explain this to Robin. But when it was time for biology and your daily locker talks, she didn’t show. Hm, maybe she’s not here today. I hope she’s not sick. You waited as long as you could until you couldn’t any longer without being late before you headed to biology alone.

Mr. Mundy wasted no time in beginning class, “It was brought to my attention that some of you might not be happy with your partner assignments. Please note that I will not be making any changes. My job is to prepare you for the real world and that means learning how to work with people you might not particularly like. Problem solve and figure it out! That said, you have the rest of class to work. Get started.” Great. You didn’t even get a chance to ask so you could tell Billy that you tried, telling him the truth now will sound like an excuse.

Eddie got up and hurried over to the seat he was in yesterday, “Jesus Christ! Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you lied, “Billy just got a little rough last night. No big deal.”

He sounded pissed, “No big deal? Have you looked at yourself? You look like your neck was run over by a fucking truck! That’s not rough, that's overkill - hard! Did you want it like that?”

His words shouldn’t have stung like they did. Billy had his preferences and never really gave you an opportunity to voice yours when it came to sex. In reality, despite your limited experience, you knew your preferences were very different. You wanted to feel like a princess and be treated with care and love. Warm baths after, kisses everywhere, someone to tell you how important you are to them and how much they cherish you. You tried to bring it up to Billy once and you had to skip school for 3 days until the swelling went down on your left eye. Never in a million years did you think you’d be discussing this with Eddie. Why does he even care? It’s none of his damn business !

“I don’t think that’s any of your business. Can we please just work on this assignment?”

He curled his lips making a smacking sound, venom in his voice as he still sounded angry, “Yeah. Yeah I guess you’re right. It’s none of my fucking buisness. What do we need to do?”

You spend the rest of the class completing and organizing the plan for your experiment. What music you’re going to play, what containers you’re going to use and where you plan to put them. Once your plan is all written it occurs to you that despite your best efforts to complete this in class, you’ll still need to meet up outside of school to actually plant these seeds. The teacher is requiring that you keep them somewhere else because he, ”Doesn’t have room for 7 classes worth of plants”.

The bell rang and Eddie stopped you before you could leave, “Hey, you um- do you want to meet up today after school and get started with this thing? Unless of course you’re,” he eyed your neck again, “Busy.”

Billy had told you after dropping you off that you’d have to take the bus home today. That usually meant he was either working or had no intentions of seeing you that day, “Yeah,” you nod, “Today sounds good.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #soulmate au #soulmate identifying marks #childhood friend eddie munson #high school sweethearts #stranger things fanfic #stranger things smut #18+ content

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madaboutmunson · 2 years

Text

The Eddie Munson Tape Dates - Metallica - Kill 'em all

Warnings: air rifles, anxiety, fluff

Ever since Trent had come back home, Eddie had been extra protective. However, whilst he knew you could handle the situation yourself, it didn't mean he wanted you to deal with it alone.

From what Eddie had talked to you at length about in the past, you were reasonably sure this wasn't a jealous or insecure thing. But just in case it was, you'd kept true to your word and continued to do little things for Eddie every day to make sure he knew how very important he was.

You'd found a book in the library and started leaving him little notes folded up into different things, but once you'd learned how to fold a dragon, it's all you wanted to make. So you left them on his locker, the handle of his van door, and his bedroom window so he'd see it when he woke up. Unfortunately, as Eddie patrol became more frequent, it was harder to hide them as a surprise.

It wasn't even like it was that much of a change. You saw one another every day in some capacity, but when he appeared to be running himself ragged to walk you, in-between classes, you had to put a stop to it.

"Hi", he bent down with his hands on his knees out of breath, blinking as if dizzy, "Phew, I don't think I've run that far or fast in years" he takes out his water and takes a few glugs, at the same time extending his hand to you.

"Babe, you can't keep doing this." You say quietly, pointing further down the corridor, "My next class is literally there. Where is yours?" You didn't want to embarrass Eddie or want him to feel bad. You just wanted to let him know everything was fine and for him to not wear himself out.

"Er....kinda near where I came from..." He says tentatively.

"So you are gonna potentially be late now because of me? No, honey. This has to stop. You're doing so well this year, right? " You say, intertwining your fingers with his, taking his hand, and walking him back towards his class.

"Eddie, he'll be gone soon enough. He's not gonna hang around here for long. Right now, he's enjoying all the hero worship he's getting from being the college guy with his high school friends. Which just says to me he's not thriving at college at all. Which is sad for him, but you know, a delicious sort of instant karma from my perspective" you can't resist a little evil giggle.

Your Mom always said not to wish bad things on people, and you hadn't wished it, but you weren't going to pretend it didn't feel good to see him struggle after what he did.

"That laugh, I don't think I've ever heard before." Eddie says, nearly spitting out his water, "That was nearly looney toons Witch Hazel levels of maniacal."

"And this is exactly why you don't have to do this, ok? Because if anyone comes at me, I will just, you know, turn them into a bug, or do some of our cult chanting at them," you offer and raise your non-occupied hand in the air wiggling your fingers and making spooky noises and faces at Eddie.

"Keep it in the circus, Freaks!" A yell comes down the corridor. You both stop dead in your tracks, turn slowly, and stare unflinchingly at the noise source. You both stare, with deadpan expressions, until the letterman jacket wearer gets nervous and runs away.

You continue to walk a little further down the corridor and excitedly grab Eddie's shoulders, "Did you hear that??? Did you hear what he said to me??" A gigantic toothy smile spread across your face, "I'm a freak! God, I can't wait to tell Mama. She's gonna be so excited!"

Eddie lets himself be jostled around by your excitement, and he simultaneously looks confused and delighted. He takes your hand back into his, "You. Are. Crazy. And I..." He flourishes his hand to the side and lands it on the centre of his chest "...love you for it."

"Oh, you think that was crazy? You don't even know what would have happened if we hadn't been surrounded by our peers at the time."

"Oh really?" He says in a low voice, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Not like that. Get your mind out of the gutter, babe...Well, about what I said, I mean...I love you...gutter mind and all." You laugh and let out a little squeal as Eddie pulls your body to his, in the middle of the corridor, and entraps your eyes into his.

"Let their eyes look upon this feast of devotion. Let their envy be so great it turns their very flesh green with jealousy." He says, dramatically dipping you over backwards for a kiss.

As he lifts you back up, he says quietly, "I mean, I wanted to do that anyway, but right now Eddie Munson is winning at high school, at life, and I want each and every one of these pretentious fuckers to know about it." His eyes move from yours to around the corridor, "All of them."

"Except for hellfire, though, right?" You add with a laugh.

"Look, that is different. There has to be a line of PDA around those little sheep. They need to respect me, and if I show them how easily manipulated I can be by my lady. They would use you as a weapon." He says, looking over you slowly.

His gaze eventually lands in yours as you say, "And you think I wouldn't betray those little sheep, hell, the whole world for you, my love? A million times over!"

"How do you make villainy so endearing? Must be that witchcraft" he tries to pull you in for another kiss.

"Talking of witches, where is your class again?" You say, smiling.

Eddie rolls his eyes, "Ok, I'm going alright. I'll see you at lunch", he says, grabbing your face for a hard peck of a kiss on the lips before heading his way to class, and you turn around, heading back to yours.

You arrive a few minutes late back to class and notice the girl from the drama department that Trent had been hanging out with, Laura. Her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and a handkerchief clutched in her hand. She notices you look at her; if looks could kill, you would have been obliterated where you stood.

You make your way to your seat quickly, and for the remainder of class, just avoid looking at her completely.

You had your suspicions from the look on her face, Trent had done this, caused her to be upset like this, but it's not like you could ask, right? Console her, tell her that there are guys out there that are so fantastic she'll question what she had been doing with Trent at all.

Though for all you knew, it could be something completely unrelated. You decide to focus on class, but your mind is so distracted. This whole Trent business was someone else's problem, now. He'd basically stopped communicating with you once he got to college, and that was that. You had no love, not even like, for the guy, and now he was back, and you couldn't wait for him to fuck off back to his campus again.

Something hits your leg, and you look down to find a crumpled-up piece of paper. You snatch it up and open it discretely in your lap. "Good luck with your mission to get Trent back, slut!"

Your face contorts with confusion. You pocket the note and look around to be greeted by a dirty look from Laura.

The pieces were coming together. Trent had messed something up with her, so he had somehow convinced her you were the reason for it. You shake your head, same old cowardly tricks. Shame you didn't figure that out until it was too late.

You just try to focus on the lesson until the lunch bell rings, and you can get out of here and see Eddie. You've got no interest in being dragged down into some high school drama bullshit.

Entering the cafeteria, you spy your friend Dawn and her boyfriend Joe, but no sign of Trent or Laura with them, as you would have suspected.

You look over to the Hellfire table. Most of them were there, but there was a prominent absence of Eddie.

You feel a tug on your arm, you turn slowly, and your eyes meet Carla's, the only female member of hellfire club this year. Her sweet, cherub-like face looks up at you kindly, but there is a slight hint of concern on her brow.

"Um...Eddie might be a bit late for lunch. He said to let you know, but he won't be long." She says hurriedly.

Her eyes dart towards the cafeteria window for a second, and you follow their momentary path and peer outside. Eddie was standing confidently but defensively. His arms were not tucked around his chest but folded in front of it. His expression was unsympathetic and almost bored, but the stance of his lower body gave him away. He was just waiting for an excuse to rush the guy opposite him.

That guy being Trent.

Trent unnecessarily slightly hunched over, his arms and hands animated. His expression was condescending and one of provocation as he paced up and down in front of Eddie.

It's almost like he senses you, and Eddie's eyes turn to look at the window, and you dive down out of sight. Carla tugs your sleeve again, "Maybe you could just come and eat lunch with us until Eddie gets here?"

"Are you crazy? You know he's out there with my ex, who, pardon my french Carla, is an absolute bitch. Eddie's been doing so well this year. He doesn't need a mark against him," you complain at her, walking towards the cafeteria door.

"He said you would say something like that. But, he said to tell you to let him deal with it himself. If you believe in him, that is," Carla says, slowly recalling it from memory.

Eddie, you absolute swine! You think to yourself and let out a grunt of frustration.

"Carla, do you have a compact mirror by any chance?" You're thinking of fashioning a makeshift periscope so you can at least keep an eye on Eddie and ensure he's safe.

Carla looks at you in disbelief, "He said you'd ask me for it, so he took it from me. He said you'd get it out of me if he didn't."

You put your hands on your hips, "Well, if he's so smart, how does he know I just won't ask someone else for one?"

"Oh, because he said..." Carla begins

"By the time you've got to that point. I'll be all done" you hear Eddie's voice beside you, "Thanks, CC." Eddie says as Carla does a little courtesy and hurries back to Gareth.

Eddie shrugs gently. Your face is not impressed, "I'm unharmed. Physically Trent is also unharmed. I just wanted to hear what he had to say for himself, that's all."

"Physically, only?" You ask, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, like mentally, possibly emotionally, devastated, but physically didn't touch him. Didn't have to" Eddie smirks and reaches for your hand, and you hand him the note from your pocket.

"He's got a bee in his bonnet about us, babe. He'll just keep doing stuff like this." You say a worriedness in your tone.

"Then let him. Let him try and shake us a thousand times, and each time I look at him, he'll remember what I told him out there, and he will retreat so fast, babe." Eddie says, almost laughing, not worried in the slightest

"What happened out there?" you say, your voice edges with concern. Worried that Eddie had made some threats, you knew that Trent and his cronies didn't take kindly to that sort of thing.

"Well, a bunch of things got said, and I'll fill you in on all that privately later, but honestly, it all boiled down to this. He told me I wasn't enough, I wouldn't amount to anything blah, blah, blah. So I stepped up to him and looked him dead in the eyes, babe, and I said 'Y/N is happy, she's in love, with me, and she is satisfied.' and oh," Eddie claps his hands together with glee, "boy, he didn't like that. Then he was all like, 'no, you've known her five minutes, compared to 3 years,' and he was droning on, so I stopped him and asked him, "Did she call you? Like at all?" And his face just fell, and I knew I had him," Eddie pinches his fingers together like he's squashing a tiny bug, "and I repeated, 'She's a satisfied woman. I'm sure you haven't met many of those, so for your benefit, and because I pity you, here is what you need to do. Cut your losses, keep your dignity, and crawl back where you came from, K? Buh-bye."

Your eyes are wide with surprise. Surprised that Eddie hadn't threatened Trent. Eddie hadn't warned Trent off his girl. He hadn't used violence. He'd just told him the truth and sure belittled him a bit, but in such a way that Trent wouldn't be able to regale his cronies with tales of a big bad Eddie Munson who needed to be taught a lesson.

The most crucial part was Eddie wasn't afraid, and as you stood there with him, his confidence wrapped around you like a safety blanket. You didn't have to worry about Trent anymore. He couldn't ruin this for you. Eddie's buttons had been pushed, his insecurities thrown in his face, and he stood his ground because he believed in you because he believed in this.

Your eyes move around his face, and you sigh a shaky breath that renders you speechless. You want to jump into Eddie's arms right now, squeeze him tightly and plant a thousand kisses on him. But, instead, you blink slowly at him as your heart booms in its rib cage prison. Your pupils must be like saucers or some other tell because Eddie tilts his head at you quizzically.

He reads your expression, and his face changes from one of "I just kicked this guy's ass with words, babe, you'd be so proud" to "Fucking hell, I'm the greatest man who ever lived". He looks pleased with himself, but not in a smug way, genuine pride in himself.

When he offers you his arm with a big beautiful smile on his face, it's difficult not to look around at the rest of the cafeteria with your own very smug grin and give them a royal wave. Instead, you gratefully take his arm, say very little for the remainder of lunch, and just stare at him.

Watching how his face and body move when he talks, adding the odd confirmation of listing if required "uh-huh", and you were desperately trying to listen to what he was saying, but your brain was scrambling everything. This was it. This was the guy, and he'd been here the whole time.

Thankfully his conversations seemed to be for the whole table, so it was easy enough to take pointers from their own nods or head shakes about what you should be doing if his eyes fell on you.

The bell jump scares you back into real life, "Jesus!" You say with your hand to your chest.

Eddie looks over at you, laughing, "Alright there, babe? "

He eyes the rest of the table as they stand to leave and keeps you behind with him, "So about what I said...are you in?" He says, looking at you biting his lip.

"Er...yeah...of course", you agree to who knows what and venture a smile.

Eddie bursts out laughing. "You haven't listened to me the whole time we've been sitting at this table, have you?"

You squint your eyes and wrinkle your nose, "I mean...."

"Shit! I knew it. Don't even try to lie! I know those eyes. I mean, I didn't mind, but wow." he says, brushing down his denim vest.

"I was really trying to listen, babe. I swear," you say sort of apologetically, but also laughing at your own ridiculousness.

"Well, I'm glad you finally caught up with me," he says, grasping your face with one hand, squeezing it.

"Huh?" You say quizzically.

"When you're cooking, when you're getting ready, fresh out of the shower, when you're reading your book," he says, his cheeks flush a little.

You wriggle out of his grasp, "So, all those times I thought you asked me about something again, you weren't genuinely interested in it. You just hadn't listened the first time?"

Eddie is cackling, leaning back on his seat, and sighs to take a breath. "I'm sorry, babe, I thought you knew. It was mostly interesting for the record, but I didn't catch them the first time around."

"Well, I can't say anything about it now, can I? I'd be a hypocrite." You laugh and grasp his hand, "I'm glad I finally caught up, you know. It's much nicer here" That was spoken right from the heart. You looked around inside yourself for those old insecurities, and, for the moment at least, they had vanished.

You wish you were brave enough to ask what his brain was thinking about instead of listening in those moments. If he felt the same as you.

"No, you can't!" He teases playfully, moving his head side to side as his face closes in on your for a soft kiss, which you didn't think even possible felt more electric than all the ones before it. "See you after class, babe." he lifts you out of your seat and turns your face to his. He walks backwards away from you, raising his hands in the air. "Your gift for the afternoon....you get to watch me walk away" he shoots you a wink and walks out of the cafeteria doors.

Later at yours, homework completed. Eddie shakes the box of tapes at you. You immediately select the Metallica album with the hammer on the cover, "Remember on our first date that I didn't know was a date, and I had to be armed? This is what could have happened." You say, pointing at the cover.

Eddie's face lights up, "Yes, yes, I heard your little joke, but honestly, honey. I have been dying for you to pick this one for weeks."

He grabs the cassette tightly and rushes to the stairs. There is no thundering sound as he descends, so you can only assume he's used the bannister rail as a slide.

You hear some muttering between Eddie and your folks as you pack away your books and Eddie's.

"Moonbeam?" Your Mom pokes her head around the door, "I think your gonna need a warm coat for this one, so I got you this one. Also, Eddie said if you have any old things you don't mind getting destroyed, to bring them too. He's so funny, that boy."

You rush and give your Mom a tight hug, "Oh Mama, I know he is, but I think...maybe..."

Your Mom pushes your back gently from the hug to take a good look at you, "Go on, Moonbeam. It's safe" her eyes are wide and sparkling.

"I thought Trent being back here would mess things up between Eddie and me, but today Mama... Today! What a day! It was something so trivial, but it made me think...I dunno...maybe..." You tighten your grip on her arms and see her eyes well up a little as she nods encouragingly.

"Babe, what's the hold-up? Everything ok?" Eddie's voice rings from the bottom of the stairs. Your thought process breaks.

"Everything's ok. I'm just getting my stuff," you yell back.

"Sorry, Mama, I promise I'll take to you about this later. You know how he gets when he's excited about something" you shrug and put on the coat she offered you.

"Indeed, I know how he gets when he's excited about a project. He was only bending our ears the other day about..." You Mom starts

"I am so sorry, Mama, but I really have to get going," you say quickly, pulling on some outdoor knee-high boots.

Your Mom smiles, walks into your closet, and re-emerges with a cardboard box with a big T written on it, "I think you'll find the stuff in here, you won't mind getting damaged".

You grab the box from her, kiss her on the cheek, and run down the stairs, nearly tumbling down them but catching yourself at the last moment.

"Ready!" You say. Eddie is smiling from ear to ear and grabs the box under one arm and grabs your hand with the other, almost running out the door with you.

"Bye!!" You both shout back.

Once in the van, on your way and the album blasting loudly, you ask, "So where are we going that you are so excited about?"

"Oh, we're going to mine, well, nearly mine, anyway" he's still grinning wildly.

"Are you always this excited to go home? We could spend more time at yours if you want, you know?" You ask, a little puzzled.

"No, we're going to meet up with my Uncle." He says, still smiling, his whole body tense with excitement.

"Oh, Eddie. Why didn't you say Wayne was gonna be there?" You whine, pull down the mirror, check your face, and grumble, "I would have put on something else, redone my makeup, or..."

"He likes you just fine, babe. You worry too much. He's just protective, is all." Eddie reaches over and squeezes your knee.

"Yeah, but I want him to like me, like my parents like you. You know? I guess I can't have everything, though, right?" You say a little forlornly.

"Do you know how many people I've seen him kiss on the forehead, Y/N? Two, and both of them are sitting in this van right now. He's very loving, really. He just doesn't express it like the rest of us."

"I have no doubts about that at all. Just I want him to love me and know I'm not...you know...like he thought I was."

Eddie squeezes your knee again and sighs, "Look, it's not your fault all those things happened to me before we even knew one another. He knows how happy I am, and he knows, deep down, how much you care about me. He was out there that day the same as me. He saw what happened to your arm, trying to keep a hold on me and then wrenching me back up there. But, unfortunately, he also saw how sad I was when I thought I'd lost you. Sure, you dress like a norm, but to my Uncle, you're the most dangerous thing that's ever walked in his trailer." Eddie lets out a soft laugh, but you can hear the slight sadness in his voice.

"Hey, you know what. I've killed the mood in here. I will win him over one day. But for now," you reach over to the stereo and turn it up really loud, and mimic the head banging and hand signals you usually see Eddie do in the passenger seat when you're driving.

It takes a few minutes, but he's back in full excitable mode just in time to pull up at a wooded area near the trailer park.

Eddie grabs the box under his arm, holds your hand, and. runs with you further into the woods until you see a clearer area with a few tree stumps. You sit down and open the box as Eddie paces around.

"Oh, no. No, no. This is bad. This is bad" you start to panic.

Eddie rushes over, "What's wrong, babe? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm not, but...Jesus. You said you wanted some stuff we could destroy, so my Mom gave me this box. Which I thought was like T for toys, but it's not, is it...of course fucking, of course, it isn't...your Uncle is gonna be here any minute, and I have a box full of ex-boyfriend stuff" You put your hands to your head like this is unbelievable.

Eddie is smiling.

"I know what I'll do, right? I'll just..." You grab the box, find some undergrowth, and start covering the box. Kicking it out of sight. A million expletives muttered under your breath.

Once satisfied it was expertly squished and hidden, you turn back to Eddie, who is looking back at you in comical alarm.

"You know, for a second there, I thought you wanted to keep that stuff. Which I wouldn't have any issue with, by the way, memories are memories, good or bad, right?"

"Are you crazy? I didn't even know that box was in there. They tied all that stuff away for me one day, and I thought they'd put it in the trash."

You brush yourself down, "Is my hair ok?" You say, trying to smooth it down.

Eddie reaches over and runs his hands over it and then moves his hands to your face, "It's perfect." Then, he leans down and kisses you on the tip of your nose.

"Now that's quite enough of that for the Evenin' I'll be requirin' your full attention. These are not toys".

Eddie's eyes are twinkling, and he's grinning widely. You turn around to see Wayne Munson holding two air rifles.

"This one heres a springer, this one a PCP. I'll show you how to use both. Though if you're ever in a situation like that pit again, I suggest you opt for something more in the auto-style."

You wave a hand in front of you, allowing Eddie to choose first. He picks the PCP, leaving you the springer.

"First of all. If I see either of yous pointing the gun at anything other than the clear ground or your target, this is over. Is that clear to ya both? Not at one another, not at me, not at something passing by, and not at your own self. Even if ya think it's funny...I hope you're listnin' Edward!"

You both nod solemnly.

"You e'er shot a rifle before missy?" Wayne says, approaching you.

As you look up at him, you feel the anxiousness start to creep over you, "No, sir."

"Well, not to worry, I'll show ya how. Let me set up Eddie here 'fore he erupts with impatience."

You observe as Wayne crouches down next to and instructs Eddie how to hold the rifle, reload it, aim, squeeze the trigger and most importantly, where the safety is.

Eddie shoots a couple of pellets, leaps up from his leaning positions and runs to retrieve his target sheet. You know it before you see it. He's an excellent shot. You smile proudly at him, and Wayne grabs him in a side hug, ruffling his hair, "Thas, my boy!!"

Your happy, proud moment is short-lived as Wayne turns, and it's suddenly your turn next. You swallow hard. Your mouth is an arid desert, frozen to the spot, and your brain just repeating to you, 'Don't fuck this up. Do not fuck this up.'

Wayne walks over and gives you a half smile. You glance to Eddie for support, but he's too focused on his target.

Your eyes return to Wayne, who holds out the rifle and starts detailing the parts to you, where the safety is, the trigger, and finally, the process for you, "This here is a break barrel." He puts the butt of the rifle to his hip and hits his hand on the gun barrel, and it's like it splits in two. "You grab the very end of the barrel and point it down to the ground. Always at the ground away from ya 'n everyone else, k? And never put your hand near the trigger at this point, right? Then getcha pellet in there, and..." He pushes the barrel back into position with one loud snap, which makes you jump.

Wayne smiles at you, "Ya don't gotta do this if you don't wanna. He won't think no less o' ya"

"Oh...erm...no...I wanna try. It's important to learn. I'm just nervous, is all," you say, twiddling your fingers together.

Something changes in Wayne's expression at that moment. He looks at your hands and then at the ground before handing over the rifle to you.

"Here you try." He gives you that half smile again. This time his tone is gentle and encouraging.

You talk yourself through the process out loud and look to Wayne for confirmation you were doing the right thing. You repeat that a few times until Wayne nods and approaches you again.

"Ok, so this one's got a spring in her. You gotta be ready for that recoil, k? If you sit her jus right, it don't hurt too much." He says kindly

Wayne motions you to the stump, and you crouch down like Eddie is leaning on it to support the rifle. Wayne helps you position the gun and your hands, and crouches next to you. His face is next to yours as his hands wrap around your own on the weapon.

"Ok, imma help ya this time, but then you're on your own, k?" You nod silently but are so nervous right now, "Don't be so tense, loosen up. You got this, kid," Wayne adds gently.

Wayne helps you aim and take your first shot, the rifle butt juts into your body, but it doesn't hurt too much at all.

The exhilaration is overwhelming, and you smile hugely at him, and to your surprise, he smiles back warmly.

"Uncle Wayne, I hope to Christ you aren't making moves on my girl right now". You hear Eddie shout over, you look round, and Eddie gives you a wink.

"Boy, you gotta lotta nerve accusing me 'o all sortsa nothing." Wayne says, releasing you and standing up, hands on his hips, just like Eddie.

"Get me a new target, old timer. I've blasted through this one," Eddie laughs.

You get up and talk yourself through the reloading again. Lost in the process, you forget that Wayne is still nearby.

"Atta girl," he says, ruffling your hair, and leaves you to it for a while.

Eddie gets through his pellet magazine reasonably quickly. You, however, have to manually reload each time have lots left, not that it would matter because your aim, let's say, leaves a lot to be desired.

Wayne replaces your target with a fresh one and goes back to Eddie for a chat. You can make out the odd thing.

"Yeah, he turned up a school, but he ain't nothing to worry about. Usual rich kid bullshit, not even imaginative. I'm not good enough. It won't last. I'm a phase. You know?"

You glance over as you reload, Wayne has his hand on Eddie's shoulder, and you feel anger rise in you.

'Who the fuck did Trent think he was?', Bang. Reload

'Eddie is a phase who describes another human being that way', Bang. Reload

'It won't last? What the hell would he know about anything lasting?' Bang. Reload

'Not good enough? What a joke. If anything, you weren't good enough for Eddie, and Trent certainly wasn't good enough for you' Bang. Reload

'Imagine if you'd married that guy. You would never have known any different' Bang. Reload

'You would have ended up miserable just like some of the nuclear families on your block' Bang. Reload

'I fucking hate Trent. Loathe him entirely. How did I not see it' Bang. Reload

"Baaaaabe", comes a careful call out, "You doing ok over there?" Eddie's voice snaps you out of it, and your scowl turns to a smile.

"Yeah, sorry, just got in a rhythm, is all" you grin back, put down the rifle for a minute and take a break against your stump.

Wayne runs over to your target from the stump and looks at you with a surprised expression before taking it over to Eddie for consultation.

"Did she now?" You hear Wayne chuckle as Eddie regales him with some tale or another.

"Hey, babe, you wanna swap?" Eddie yells over.

"I don't mind, I'm kinda used to this one now, but if you wanna try it out, I can bring it over." You yell back, and Eddie beckons you over with a hand gesture. You make sure to hold the rifle safely and head over towards them.

Eddie takes the rifle from you and sets it down carefully. He and Wayne smile at one another and then smile back at you.

Suddenly Eddie has his arms around you in a bear hug whilst his Uncle runs over to the shrub hiding your box of Trent memorabilia. You initially struggle to get free, but it's too late. Wayne already has the box.

You slump your head against Eddie and mumble into his chest, "I thought I was doing so well today, too."

"What were you thinking about over there? You looked like you were gonna rage," Eddie asks, resting his chin on your head.

"Just you know what Trent said to you earlier. It made me so angry, Eddie. Like the audacity of that idiot. Your a million times the guy he'll ever be. I just hate him for even speaking to you like that. He had no right." The frown returning to your face.

"Well, if it's any consolation. Hate appears to improve your aim... massively." Eddie waves the target card in front of your face. A small grouping of pellet marks can be seen in the centre of it.

"Ya sure, ya don't want any of this stuff?" Wayne asks, walking over with the box.

"No, thank you", you say, still leaning on Eddie's chest, but you turn your head to reply to Wayne.

"Let's shoot the shit outta it then", Wayne smirks at you.

You break out of Eddie's hold, root through the box with Wayne holding it, and start setting up the stumps. A photo stuck on your stump, some impersonal stuffed toys lined up on top of some cinema tickets, and generic greeting cards with nothing other than the To and From added to them.

You get handed the pneumatic rifle this time, and shooting is a breeze, your aim is generally off again, but it's still fun, except for the photo of Trent, which you manage to annihilate the face of.

Eddie is slowly but surely shooting his way through the limbs of a small stuffed valentine's bear.

"Alright, kids, times up. I gotta head on out to work. Next time maybe we'll upgrade you to something with a bit more kick, huh? Maybe take a visit to warzone?"

Eddie runs around and jumps on Wayne's back and kisses the bald spot on his head, "Fuck yeah!!" Eddie shouts.

Wayne laughs heartily at Eddie's excitement, "Gerr off, boy. I got places to be"

You smile at them both. They were just a perfect family. There was nothing but unconditional love here, which was beautiful because that's what they both were inside and out.

You leave them to their wrestling and tidy up all the trash in the box. You feel a hand on your shoulder, "Not too shabby out there today. I'm sure glad we did this, you know. I see it now. " He says a little awkwardly and then quickly grabs you into a hug but lets you go just as fast.

"Take care of my boy, darlin'," he says quietly to you as he nods and turns towards his car.

You are entirely dumbfounded, frozen in pose and thought for the second time today. You must stay that way for a few seconds and finally make your way over to Eddie and the van.

Eddie waves off his Uncle and looks back at you with a satisfied smile, "Well? How did you find it?"

"Which bit?" You laugh.

"Come 'ere," he says, inviting you into his arms. You gladly rush up, thud into him, and rest your head against his chest. Then, wrapping your arms around his waist, your hands pressed against his back underneath his jacket.

Eddie's arms envelop you and squeeze you to him, "You know earlier, Trent even tried to insinuate that if I were in his position, I would have done the same", Eddie muses.

"Oh honey, let's not talk about that idiot anymore", you complain, snuggling into Eddie's t-shirt.

"Last time today, I promise," he says earnestly, "He said that going to college was like he'd been living in a tiny room his whole life, and then it was like a world of possibilities was in front of him." Eddie adjusts his hold on you, so his hands are clasped together behind you.

Eddie continues, "I told him he was a dumbass. Then he said something about at least he went to college, and I said that's not why you're a dumbass. I said you're a fool because I get to hold my world in my arms every day".

You melt into his embrace, "You know, Eddie. I don't think my aim improved because I hate Trent. It improved because I was thinking about protecting the person I love."

You feel Eddie's chest expand, and his heart pounds like the most enchanting music to your ears.

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