#body swap fic!!

[becausebuckley]

i sing the body electric | buddie | body swap | 7.4k

Eddie blinks rapidly, trying to clear his vision. But no matter how many times he blinks, the hands before him remain the same. They’re slightly larger than his own, with thicker calluses and longer fingers. The skin is paler, the nails are shorter than Eddie prefers. He flexes the fingers, watching as the tendons ripple beneath the skin. Then, he notices the small, crescent-shaped scar on the base of the left thumb. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. He knows that scar. It’s not his. It’s Buck’s. or: eddie and buck wake up in each other's body.

read the full fic on ao3 here!

[foerchen]

Next fic: bodyswap

Jason: *in Dick‘s body*

Jason: I feel awful. What is wrong with your body???

Tim: *absolutely obliterating a punching bag in Jason‘s body*

Dick: *looks affronted at Jason in his body*

Dick: My body is fine! What do you mean??? You aren‘t the one who needs to consume an unholy amount of caffeine to function!

Jason: I feel like someone is about to push me off a fucking cliff, Dickhead.

Dick: *grins suddenly*

Dick: Ohhhh. Lemme fix that for you, Little Wing.

Dick: *walks up to Jason and hugs him tightly*

Jason: *relaxes before tensing up*

Jason: WAIT. YOU NEED HUGS TO FUNCTION?!?!

(Next fic is in the works! o7 It isn’t the one I had originally planned cuz my brain went brrr. Have a good one, my lovely birdwatchers! <3)

((Edit: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59545189/chapters/151862587 ))

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

Decided to be fun about a body swap whump prompt and laughing at the pictures i put into the fic

Plastic man being overly animated in Arthurs body, trying to turn in body only his own could and realizing with popped joints and aching muscles that he doesn't bend like that right now.

Diana immediately ditching the Helmet of Fate when she's stuck in his body and hating every minute of this situation even harder bc of the body dysmorphia of suddenly being male

Clark just disappointed in everything because he got Oliver of all teammates as his body swap partner

Billy not handling the heels and different everything of suddenly being in Diana's body

and then there's Bruce who, the second he's in Marvels body, gets kicked out for one of his patrons to play dolls because Bruce dint know to keep them out of his head and not interfering

[u3pxx]

a compilation of klapolly doodles ... but they've swapped bodies ⁉️ huhhh???? (aka i put the boys in one of my favorite tropes pftt)

[zecoritheweirdone]

hey do you guys wanna see a comic for a msa au me and my friend ascel came up with? trick question yes you do. anyway- hehehehehhhoo body swap au <3.

okay quick context for this rq- this is an au where it diverges after freaking out- instead of possessing the truck, lewis ends up chasing the gang for a while, maybe a week or two? arthur and vivi don't know why this random ghost they met ages ago keeps going after them, but one things for sure- he really, really wants arthur's head on a spike.

cut to the present- arthur got separated from vivi and mystery, and lewis ends up chasing him into the woods!

[the-fluff-piece]

Invisible

This is a SAD story with no heartwarming happy end or moment of redemption. It's the middle of the night and I feel depressed, so why not write some sad fiction

You've loved Sanji for a while, but he doesn't even see you. When Nami asks to switch bodies for a day, you experience his devotion for a short while - before going back to being invisible for him

Part 2

Part 3 is actually a choose your own adventure type!

Part 3.1: Zoro or Sanji?

Part 3.2: Law or Sanji?

Also check out my stories and headcanon masterlists

You weren't sure what she was planning, but Nami assured you that it was of the utmost importance that she borrow your body for a day. She also swore by her mother's trees that it wasn't anything illegal. And also all the money you owed her would be forgotten - so it seemed overall like an acceptable deal.

She somehow blackmailed your crews ally Trafalgar Law into this to make the switch. So when you anchored at an amusement island full of casinos and shopping opportunities, you found yourself in the thin, busty, long legged body of hers.

You looked down at her - in your body - and couldn't help but frown at the small, mousy girl looking up at you with Nami's glint in her eyes.

"Thanks Y/n, take good care of my body. See you tonight!" She saluted you and sprinted off the ship with determination.

Unsure what to do, you wobbled to Nami's closet on your much to long legs that were in much too high heels. Hopefully she had something like a shirt, you felt naked in her Jeans and Bikini Top combo.

Eventually, you found a simple shirt with a round neck and some flats and felt more like yourself immediately.

Getting out into the sun, you enjoyed the feeling of a cool breeze playing with her long hair and sighed.

"Oh Nami-swaaaaan how wonderful to see you this morning! I made extra tasty breakfast for you todaaayyyy!" Sanji screamed with his usual slurred voice. It took you a few seconds to make the connection that he, indeed, was talking to you. Or Nami, wich was gone for the day.

You turned and looked at Sanji who was prancing towards you with heart eyes and an excited expression.

"May I accompany you to the table mademoiselle?" He held out his arm.

You took it, and your heart already pounded like mad in your chest. He was gorgeous, smart and charming. He was strong and kind and had dominated your thoughts since you joined the crew.

Too bad you never lived up to the standard he had for women. Small, mousy, not at all shapely or beautiful. He treated you friendly, but way too often he seemed to overlook you. And he never, ever treated you like your female crewmates.

So this felt new and exciting, his blue eyes looked at you for the first time, really seeing, even if it was not you he really looked at.

Happily, you let him walk you to breakfast and push your chair to the table that was already loaded with all kinds of the crew's favorite food.

"Y/n not coming?" He asked when one seat remained empty.

"She left for the city just a few minutes ago" you answered.

"Very well" He said and absent mindedly took the plate and cutlery away to make place.

Usually, you ate and goofed around with Usopp and Chopper, but of course, you are not here, Nami is. You've barely taken a bite out of your toast when Sanji already inquired if it's to your liking, while simultaneously barking at Luffy and Zoro to remember their manners.

"Nami-swaaan, my sunshine, my diamond, do you need anything else?" He asked, totally in love.

"Uhm, maybe a tea?" You answered, still a little perplexed. He never asked you anything like that before.

"Tea? Of course, right away my angel!" He cooed and hurried back to the kitchen, preparing the tea.

The rest of the breakfast continued just like that - Sanji asking endlessly for your wishes and getting to work immediately when you so much as whispered an answer.

Afterwards, everyone was getting ready to explore the island. You were planning to look through a few bookstores and end the day reading at a cafe.

"Nami-swaaaan, may I accompany you to the city? I will carry all your shopping bags!" He begged you eagerly.

"I don't plan on doing so much shopping..." You said with your hands raised in defense of his onslaught of affection.

"I'll just look around a bit and maybe get a book" you explained as Sanji already sank to one knee, taking your hand.

"Than I will be your bodyguard, the city is dangerous!" He informed you and like that, it was settled that he would come with you.

He wore one of his more casual outfits - a brightly colored hawaian shirt, a fitting tie and short cargo pants - so you two looked more like cringey tourists and less like pirates together.

Going with Sanji to explore the city felt almost like a date, commenting on clothing in shop windows and what would look so nice on Nami's body. You didn't plan on buying clothes that day, you didn't exactly know what she would like anyway, but he was very, very insisting that you at least try on a few things.

Unsure what to do, you left the decision to Sanji and he immediately lead you into one of the store

You tried a few things, just basic shirts and a dress, and of course it looked gorgeous on Nami. She could have worn a potatoe sack and look like a million beri. Sanji was almost swooning and loving every bit of it.

"So beautiful!" He gushed. "Nice body!" He squealed in delight. "Why don't you try this bikini?" He asked as he held up a few shreds of fabric.

"Why don't you try on something?" You asked him, already thinking what kinds of shirts or jackets would suit him best, and trying to discourage him from suggesting more revealing outfits.

____

Meanwhile at the Casino

Nami wandered past the picture of herself with the fat letters "DO NOT BELIEVE THIS WOMAN" and chuckled to herself. The owner of that chain of casinos kind of had a grudge against her, but the new face she was wearing couldn't be more inconspicuous. And she didn't directly do anything illegal, so it will be absolute fine.

-------

You

Soon, you flattered him into wearing some nice shirts that accentuated his bright eyes and slender frame. Much like Nami, he could wear pretty much anything and look fabulous, now it was your turn to gush about his looks and search for more outfits.

"Are you sure you don't want to try any more?" He asked insecurely as you handed him another suit to try. He didn't seem to be used to being on that side of the conversation, he talked softly and shyly all of a sudden.

"Do you really think this looks good on me?" He would ask again and again, revealing his sweet side even more.

"Of course, Sanji-kun! You look so handsome in that shirt." You said and saw his cheeks flush like he was a cute maiden.

"In fact, I like it so much that I'll buy it for you" eliciting an expression of pure shock from him.

"That is so nice, but what interest do you want?" He asked, already afraid that he was driven into debt. Of course, Zoro already was looking at an amount he would never pay off in his life, something Sanjin surely wanted to avoid.

"No, I really want to give you a gift. Promise!" You said and took out your purse.

"Really? A gift from my beautiful Nami-swan? I was never more happy!" He was almost crying from joy.

Leaving the store, he hummed and cuddled the fine dress shirt that you bought him, thinking it was a gift from his beloved. He looked so happy and sweet, you would love to shower him with gifts endlessly.

"How about we take a break, eat lunch at a restaurant?" You asked him, getting used to interacting with him in this new constellation. Of course he would say yes and of course he would be delighted at the chance.

"Yes, of absolutely! I'll find the best restaurant in town for you!" He promised and already started to walk towards the restaurant mile.

Like a researcher, he studied every restaurant meticulously, almost like his life depended on it. After what felt like an eternity, he finally decided for a small seaside bistro that looked not at all fancy or outstanding.

As he guided you to a table, he explained: "it may not look like much but their kitchen is filled with fresh herbs and they have few, but excellent dishes."

And he was right, it was fresh and delicious. You used the opportunity to get to know him better, since he usually didn't talk so lengthy to you.

"Tell me about yourself? A few stories from the baratie perhaps?" You asked, shamelessly nosy.

He looked like you had just gifted him the all blue on a pladder.

"You really want to know? About me?" He tentatively asked.

You nodded.

"Oh damn...where should I start? There's so many stories..." Once he started he almost couldn't stop, he seemed delighted by Nami's attention. She usually treated him politely, but held him at arms length if she didn't need anything. You felt a bit bad for changing the relationship somewhat, but you couldn't help but bask just for this one day in his company. Those blue eyes fixed on you, sparkling with joy and love, his pretty mouth telling you about his life. Moments that could be treasured long after this freak magic ended.

You hung on his lips and both of you forgot the time. He told you about the cooks that raised him, how Zeff trained him and how he went from a clueless kid to a master cook.

It felt like you got to know so many new sides to him and you fell in love with all of them. You knew that he was kind, but you didn't know that he loved animals as well. When a cute dog wandered by - telling by his round shape no doubt the villages favorite stray - Sanji absent mindedly scratched it behind the ears and gave it his leftovers.

It got late and the sun was already low in the sky.

"Time to head home, I don't want Luffy to starve tonight" He said with a chuckle.

Over already? He finally relaxed and opened up like never before, desperate to get just a few more moments with him you said: "come on, it's not that late. I bet they already bought something to eat in town. Let's search for a nice spot and watch the sunset!"

He looked speechless, the cigarette he just lit hung loosely from his lips.

"Uhm...sunset...watch...together???" He stammered in shock. "SO IT IS A DATE" he screamed and proceeded to bleed waterfalls from his nose.

No! You promised you wouldn't get Nami into trouble.

"No! No date! You know what, this is my fault, let's get back to the ship." You protested and tried to save the situation.

"What date? Who said something about a date? I just wanted to...uhm..buy some dates for dessert, yes. Let's watch the sunset as friends." He tried to save the situation.

Lucky for him, all you wanted was this moment with him, but without getting Nami into a situation she didn't want.

You found a spot on a low brick wall along the beach and watched the sun paint the sky in violet, pink and soft blue. It was calm and peaceful and you took deep breaths as you took in the beautiful scenery.

You turned to look at Sanji, but he was already staring at you, his mouth open.

"You're so God damn fucking beautiful" He whispered.

"You look like an angel..." he continued and leaned in to kiss you with heavy lidded eyes, competitively enchanted. You forgot who you were and why you were here, all that existed was this gorgeous, soft, wonderful man and you. Your eyes fluttered shut as your heart kicked into overdrive.

"Oh Nami-San" He whimpered when you could already feel his deep, nervous breaths on your face - slapping you back into reality.

This was not your kiss to have. This man didn't even want you. What you did there was deeply, deeply wrong on many levels. You jerked back, gasping, leaving Sanji to lose his balance and crash to the pavement below.

"Oh Nami-swan, your love is hitting me like a brick wall" he said, looking up at you with crossed eyes and a bleeding nose.

Panic rose inside of you - not only did you practically lie to your crewmate Sanji, you abused the body of your friend as well. You looked down her body, reminding you that none of this should be happening. You grabbed the cook at his collar and heaved him up. Emulating Nami's more demanding voice you say:

"NOTHING happened between us today, you hear me? NOTHING. We had a nice shopping tour, ate something AND THAT'S IT."

Baffled and with slightly wet eyes, Sanji nodded.

"And now we're going home." You said and dragged him to his feet. Ignoring his softly whispered questions, you stalked back to the ship on long legs that weren't yours, left a helpless and absolutely devastated Sanji on deck, and shut yourself in the girl's room

_____

Meanwhile: Nami

A broad grin in her face and a big sack of money on her back, Nami left the casino. She won - fair and square. She didn't always need to revert to robbery to get what she wanted - give her a card table and a bit of time and she wins everything just like that.

Nami was banned from all major casinos, so she didn't get to play as much. It was so much fun, she may have overdone it with the beer a little...y/n would surely understand.

_____

You

Finally, Nami came back, a very sour looking Law in her grasp. After putting everyone in the right body again, Nami gave him a brown paper envelope that he checked briefly, called her a witch, and left for good.

Crushed by guilt and feeling strangely dizzy, you confessed your guilt.

"I swear nothing really happened...I told him to forget it...I'M SO. SO. SORRY!" You collapsed at her feet as she turned in front of the mirror, admiring herself.

"Ah, thanks for the heads up. I'll deal with him, don't worry." She said, totally relaxed as she squeezed her boobs in both hands and pursed her lips, admiring the pose in the mirror.

"God, I missed these two!" She finally exclaimed and dressed in a bikini top and hotpants.

"So he'll be a little more annoying than usual. No biggie. Oh and...by the way? Maybe stay away from casinos for a few months" She said with a wink and ran down to the kitchen for dinner.

You felt like you couldn't show your face to Sanji ever again, when you remembered that you didn't spend the day with him. Nami has. And she would handle it.

You swayed down the stairs and sat down, there was no plate in front of you. Fair enough, you weren't really hungry. You watched Sanji as he carefully wooed Nami with special treats and compliments, all the while looking sad and small. When you finally decided to get up and get your own plate, he mumbled "oh sorry y/n, didn't think you were coming" barely glancing at you. "Just help yourself" He said as he pointed to the mountains of food on the table.

He stalked around Nami for the whole evening, ignoring you completely. Now that you've known how his attention and love felt, his indifference stung more than you could ever have imagined. And there was nothing you could do about it, you were just you. Not interesting.

Tears welled up in your eyes and you excused yourself hastily, fully crying before you could reach the relative privacy of the girls dorm.

You were crying over your own shortcomings, over perfect moments that would never come back, over blue eyes that would never look at you ever again, your pathetic weakness. Agitated, you threw yourself on your bed, bud were unable to fall asleep.

You decided to take a bath to feel better, and it helped, even just a little. Spending a long time relaxing in the hot water, you finally got tired and decided to give sleep another try.

As you walked back to the girls room, shriveled up like dried fruit and with ouffy eyes, you saw Sanji lean over the railing, smoking and looking out to the sea. He looked lost in thought, sad. You would have loved to comfort him, give him just the tiniest piece of happiness back, but it was pointless. He whispered something under his breath. Deciding against eavesdropping, you returned to bed and left him by himself.

-------

Epilogue

"You did quite a number on that guy. He brought me flowers this morning, can you imagine?" Nami told you, chuckling.

"White roses. He's really lost" She added, looking at you for some reaction.

"Sorry..." You muttered, your voice trailing off.

"I shouldn't have..."

"Don't feel bad, I'll be alright. It doesn't matter anyway if I'm too nice to him or kick him in the face, he'll be into me no matter what. It's annoying but harmless, and sometimes useful" She winked at you, trying to lift the mood.

"You know, it's not your fault he made it into a date. Bet he just coerced you into it, you're too nice!" Nami went on, you looked away, flushing.

"It's not like you wanted it, right?" She asked.

"Right?" She added a bit more insecurely.

"Oh." Her eyes went wide at your pained expression.

"Oh, well, uhm. An idiot like that for a nice girl like you? Nah!" She grimaced as your face darkened more and more.

"You deserve so much better! Some day you'll find the one" She talked on, slowly realising that it was not exactly making you feel better.

"Haha...sorry" She pouted.

"It's okay, I'll get over it." You answered.

"You're strong, you will." Nami patted your back and finally left.

[effen-draws]

Some concept paintings for my swap!Kim's psyche skills and also for the newest chapter of my swap fic:-))

[penny00dreadful]

Written for @psychocatnerd for the @steddiesummerexchange

It's a body swap fic, baybeeee! I hope you like it! 🥰🖤

Rating: Explicit

Part 2 AO3

Steve slowly came to consciousness and immediately knew something was wrong.

Everything just felt off.

Like the world had been tilted one degree to the left.

Blinking his eyes open he felt just slightly more settled by the familiar sights around him. 

The various metal posters and leaflets tacked to the wall, the amp and guitar just in his peripheral vision and the feel of the room around him told him he was in Eddie’s bed.

He didn’t remember coming over to Eddie’s last night but clearly he must have.

It wouldn’t have been the most unusual thing in the world. The two of them were practically inseparable at this stage. Steve was trying and failing every day to douse the fire of his incredibly strong and incredibly embarrassing crush and Eddie probably just viewed him as a good friend.

Steve shifted around, staying in his comfy cocoon for as long as he could allow himself.

But as sensations came back to him from waking up, something else seemed off. And he noticed the second weird thing of the morning as he took stock of everything around him and turned his head towards Eddie’s side of the bed. 

Eddie wasn’t here. Eddie wasn’t lying next to him, in his own bed, a cloud of wild hair sticking up at all angles and the most atrocious morning breath and skin and tattoos and all elbows and knees.

Eddie never woke up before him.

The guy practically had to be dragged from sleep by multiple alarms and the smell of coffee like some kind of Pepe Le Pew, his nose pulling him from dreamland before his mind had caught up, but Eddie wasn’t here.

He wasn’t sprawled over Steve like a weighted blanket or curled into his arms like they so often were when they woke up, neither of them really talking about it but also neither of them really had an issue with it. 

Maybe he had slipped out to the bathroom or something?

But Steve couldn’t hear any other sounds apart from Wayne moving around the kitchen and he knew it was Wayne because of that grumbling smoker's cough.

What the fuck was going on?

Why was Steve cuddled up in Eddie’s bed without the man in question?

Dragging himself to his feet, Steve had only just managed to stand when he nearly jumped out of his skin because double what the fuck there was something tickling, something dragging over his back that was definitely not supposed to be there.

Steve slapped his hand behind him, curling his fingers around whatever the fuck it was and yanked, trying to put as much distance between it and himself as he could. But that only resulted in his scalp screaming in pain because whatever it was, was attached to his fucking head?

Still holding a fistful of whatever the fuck it was in his hand, it felt suspiciously like hair, what the fuck, he nearly fell on his ass as he tried to hurry himself over to Eddie’s mirror because since fucking when had he become so uncoordinated?

Looking up at the mirror hanging over his desk that was borderline unusable because of the amount of photos and more flyers and doodles and other shit stuck to it, not to mention the giant fucking guitar blocking it, Steve was nearly shocked out of his skin again because what the fuck… Eddie?

Eddie was standing there, blinking back at him through the mirror looking just as outraged and freaked as Steve felt.

Except Eddie wasn’t standing behind him when he turned to look and the Eddie in the mirror turned to look as well and then and then Steve finally took in the big glaring obvious thing that he probably should have noticed first.

Steve’s own reflection wasn’t there.

Was this… wasn’t that some kind of vampire thing? Not being able to see his reflection?

It was just Eddie blinking at him with his fist in his hair and and from the look in his eye, he was starting to panic like Steve was starting to panic because what the fuck was going on?

It could be the vampire thing or maybe Eddie was trapped in the mirror? Was this some kind of mirror dimension fuckery or something like that?

Steve reached a hand out to try and calm him because he was feeling pretty fucking panicked himself right now but he hated seeing Eddie this way and the guy must also be fucking freezing because, oh yeah, had Steve failed to mention that Eddie was stark fucking naked for some reason?

Eddie reached out at the exact same moment, mimicking his movements perfectly.

A little too perfectly.

Steve’s hand was in his eyeline now, except that that wasn’t his fucking hand. That was Eddie’s fucking hand attached to his body and Steve would know Eddie’s hand anywhere. 

He’d spent fucking long enough staring at them as they moved and gestured and rested on his thighs and Steve has had so many, so many thoughts about those fucking fingers.

Especially since Eddie had decided to lean even harder into the ‘Freak’ persona with more tattoos and more piercings and just somehow becoming all around fucking hotter than ever before, the fucking asshole.

Didn’t he know that Steve was only a man?

A weak, weak, bisexual disaster of a man?

Only it was even worse now because Eddie had apparently gotten far more tattoos and piercings than Steve had known about, the guy was still naked in the mirror and it was taking every ounce of willpower Steve had to not look down.

Point is, that the hand attached to his body is not his own hand and when he looked back up to see what the fuck Eddie was making of this, Eddie was following his movements again and was that Eddie in the mirror?

Could it be him? Like, Steve, him?

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit, shitfuckballs and ass.

Steve took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and finally took stock of everything, glancing down at the body he was in.

God, he was in trouble, he was in so much trouble.

Yup, that-

Fuck, that was Eddie’s body.

He was in Eddie’s body.

Fuck.

Why did he have to be so hot?

Steve felt like he was about to burst into flames. He had an eyefull of tattoos stretching across pale and scarred skin, a nipple piercing winking up at him, dragging his gaze like a moth to a flame and he refused to look any lower but he could feel it.

He could feel it.

Fuck, he needed to not be getting hard right now because that was like a… a violation or something.

He needed to calm down and figure out what was going on because the only two options he could think of were that he was having some kind of psychotic episode which would be not good or this was some kind of supernatural nonsense which would also be not good.

Okay, okay. Relax. Everything was fine?

Everything was fine. 

He would figure it out and everything would be fine.

Except hold on because everything might not be fine because if Steve was here, in Eddie’s body, then where the fuck was Eddie?

Okay, he needed… fuck.

When did he get so scatterbrained about everything?

He needed to find Eddie’s walkie. Where did he keep it?

Steve turned, dragging his eyes through the clutter around Eddie’s room, waiting for the familiar shape to jump out at him all the while trying not to pay attention to the fucking beast swinging between his legs.

Why was it always the skinny nerds who had the biggest dicks?

Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Get it together, Steve. 

He needed to fucking stop thinking about it and just find the goddamned walkie. 

Except he couldn’t. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to because knowing Eddie, he could have hidden it in a fucking lampshade or something for safekeeping because apparently Eddie’s mind refused to run in straight lines. 

Steve sighed to himself, giving it up for a lost cause. 

Next option, the phone.

Except… no.

Pants first and then phone. 

He didn’t want to scar Wayne. The man needed a break. 

Steve snatched up the clothes sitting at the end of the bed that Eddie had presumably shed the night before. Apparently when the guy was in his bed alone, without Steve, he slept completely naked.

“Could sleep naked with me if he wanted to.” Steve grumbled to himself, finally covering up all of that tempting skin that he wanted to taste and gaining some of his sanity back.

Just as he stepped out of Eddie’s room, the phone rang. 

Wayne was the closest from the two, picking it up while stirring the tea Steve had bought him to help him sleep better. It made something unbearably fond and a little embarrassed squirm in his chest.

After a muttered grunt of a hello, he looked up at Steve and held the receiver out.

“It’s your boy, son.”

Steve’s heart thumped loud and hard in his chest.

Eddie’s boy?

Eddie had a boy?

Eddie had a boyfriend?

Why hadn’t he told him?

Did he know about Steve’s big gay crush?

And how the fuck was Steve supposed to answer the phone to Eddie’s boyfriend and pretend to be him when he didn’t even know that Eddie had a boyfriend? 

He was gonna fuck up Eddie’s relationship and then Eddie would know and be miserable and oh fuck. Jesus Christ, this was all fucked. 

Steve swallowed as Wayne raised his eyebrows, still holding the receiver aloft and he took it with hands he was trying to keep from shaking. 

“Hello?” Steve said into the phone and oh wow that was trippy as shit, hearing Eddie’s voice come out of his own mouth, the same but different, being heard inside his own head.

“I know your secret.”

Oh fucking hell, double trippy as shit because that was his voice, Steve’s voice coming down the line at him. Steve scrunched up his nose.

Was that what he sounded like? All the time? Gross.

So, what the fuck did Wayne mean by ‘your boy’?

“What?” Steve replied, oh so eloquently. 

“I know your secret, Stevie.” And yup. That was Eddie. His familiar tone and intonation sounded very strange through Steve’s voice. “I found Miss Farrah looking at me from your bathroom cabinet.”

Steve sighed, the tension leaking out of his body at least with the knowledge that Eddie was safe, even if he was stuck in Steve’s body. 

“Are you telling me while I spent this whole time freaking out, you were just going through my stuff?”

Eddie hummed. 

“Not quite. Got a little distracted.”

“Oh?” Steve hedged, not really sure if he wanted the answer to that. Fuck, what did he find? “By what?”

But apparently Eddie wasn’t going to answer his fucking question. 

Typical.

“What secrets of mine did you find?”

Your giant fucking penis. 

“Nothing.”

Steve could practically hear Eddie light up over the line.

“Oh, so you did find something! What was it, sweetheart? Did you find my super secret porn stash?”

“No!” Steve snapped back but… maybe he could go back and look for it. 

Maybe just to get an idea… Just a little bit of curiosity-

“Did you find mine?” Steve asked in a panic, because fuck if Eddie had, he’d know. Steve’s porn stash was full of leather and tattoos and motorbikes and handcuffs and he’d know.

“I guess you’ll never know.”

Steve sighed in frustration and rapped the receiver of the phone against his forehead.

Okay, well, Eddie was still teasing him, still talking to him so he probably hadn’t. He probably had no fucking idea that Steve was just a little obsessed and a lot horny over him and Steve was going to do everything within his power to keep it that way.

“Okay. Just- just stay there, I’m on my way over. We need to figure this out.”

“Oh.” Eddie whined, probably pouting, the menace. “But I was so looking forward to getting behind the wheel of your baby.”

“Absolutely not.” Steve snapped. “Don’t you dare. I’m coming over, just sit your ass down and don’t touch anything.”

“Too late for that.”

Steve’s brain came to a screeching halt.

What… what… what? Did he? He couldn’t have. Would he? Would Eddie have indulged himself in a morning jerk off inside Steve’s body while Steve was denying himself that very thing. 

Well that just was not fair. 

“I can’t have this conversation with you over the phone. Do not go near my car. I’ll be there in twenty.” He didn’t give Eddie a chance to answer, just slammed the phone back down and tried desperately not to think of Eddie touching his dick, even if it was in his own hand in his own body.

Clothes. 

He needed clothes.

He needed to dress Eddie in appropriate clothes. Clothes that would say Eddie.

Steve shuffled his way back to Eddie’s room, threw open his closet door and was left just staring.

There was no organisation here at all.

There were jackets in with T-shirts and jeans and jumpers thrown in with no rhyme or reason, even though almost everything was black, there were still splashes of red or grey or white in between all of it which meant not only were they not organised by type, they also were not organised by colour.

Steve’s closet at home had a meticulous order to it, a colour out of place would have his shoulders tensing but strangely he found the lack of organisation here didn’t bother him as much as he knew it should.

Maybe just because it was Eddie’s space, he didn’t know.

Finding something that made Eddie look like Eddie was surprisingly easy, everything in there was just so him.

But even so Steve couldn’t deny himself the opportunity once his hand landed on a cut off t-shirt.

Sue him, it was hot outside.

But did every single pair of jeans Eddie owned have to be so damn tight?

Steve was stuck in between complaining and not complaining because while he was squeezing himself inside, it became abundantly clear that the pair he was wearing were way too fucking tight to wear underwear with which then brought up the question of, did Eddie go commando occasionally?

He must, right?

Jesus fucking Christ, Steve could not handle this right now.

He somehow managed to get Eddie’s body completely dressed without passing the fuck out and luckily for him, Wayne was already in bed by the time he flew out the front door to the trailer. 

Steve sat himself down in the driver's seat of Eddie’s van and could do nothing but stare.

Because he hadn’t thought about this.

Fuck.

It was a gear shift.

His Bimmer was an automatic.

Fucking hell Eddie could drive manual.

Why was that so hot?

Why was that so hot?

And why had he never fucking noticed it before?

How had he never noticed it before?

What the fuck was he going to do?

Steve shifted in his seat, trying to keep his heart rate in check. Despite the fact that he was in Eddie’s body, trying not to touch it all over like some kind of stalker creep, wearing Eddie’s clothes was still really doing something for him.

His jeans were tight. Steve was no stranger to tight jeans but Eddie’s were something else, and anyway, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to put Eddie’s body in the tightest thing he owned, though he was slightly regretting it now.

The seam at the crotch was digging and tugging against his balls and that fucking piercing, sending his blood rushing all over and he had to stop himself from rolling his hips up against it just to feel it again. 

He could feel the air against his knees and his stomach, his skin erupting into goosebumps, he was so completely surrounded. In Eddie’s clothes, in his van, in his fucking skin.

Jesus Christ Steve couldn’t handle this, he needed to go drown himself in the lake.

He glared down at the gear shift, trying to figure out what he could do before he huffed to himself and threw the van door back open.

Fuck it, his house wasn’t that far, he’d walk. He was not going to give Eddie the satisfaction of seeing him struggle to drive his van up the driveway. He’d probably destroy something in the engine if he tried.

And maybe the walk could do something to calm him the fuck down.  

Part 2 AO3

As always, my biggest thanks and much love to @hbyrde36 for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

[chaosgremlinmunson]

Soul-Searching

For @steddie-week July 4: body swap

Steve wakes up slowly, he's so comfortable and is surrounded by luxurious silk sheets, a million pillows, and a cool dark room. He blinks for a moment thinking maybe he's still asleep, maybe this is still a dream. His overworked mind thinking of the height of luxury instead of his flat above the coffee-shop he manages working odd hours and barely sleeping. He's making it, but just barely, were it not for Claudia and Dustin Henderson and the casseroles sent weekly he's sure he'd be malnourished. I mean, food or bills? Well, he can get a few tiny staples, but the bills need paid or it's sleeping in his tiny car, the Beemer having been sold out from under him at 19 when he finally told his father he wasn't going to work for him, he was queer, and he was going to find his own way if they couldn't accept him. The fight that ensued insured he'd never be considered a Harrington again, oh he could keep his last name, but make no mistake, that was the day Richard and Diane Harrington's son died. So here he was hallucinating a life he could only dream of, he raised a hand to wipe at his eyes and noticed the ink littering his skin. Black nail polish, and as he sat up long dark curls cascading over his shoulders and face. He rose immediately searching through the dark for a light switch and then spinning to find a mirror only to see the front man of Corroded Coffin staring back at him. He gaped at his reflection turning this way and that, his eyes roving over the body before him before landing on the bare hips in the mirror. To his left the phone rang, and he launched himself over the bed to retrieve it.

“Hello?” He said quietly.

“Hey, yeah, hi.” His voice said back, what the fuck, his voice? How? “So, uh, it seems like I'm either hallucinating, or, and hear me out, I body swapped with whoever you are. I'm um, standing in your…. apartment I guess you'd call it, and uh, honestly I have no idea what to do here man. But, I have a sold out concert in two days and I kinda need my body back to go perform. No offense, I'm sure you're really nice and talented and all, but I, just..” the voice trailed off, he could hear the nerves in his own voice.

“Yeah, uh, not hallucinating. And I'd prefer to give you your body back too. It's a nice body and all, but I am so not equipped to be a metal singer man, I can barely listen to it without getting migraines. Tell you what, are you in Indy? I haven't left your…home? Yet or anything, actually I haven't even found where you have your clothes at, and I'd prefer to have some semblance of clothes on. But maybe you could come to where you live and we can talk?”

“Yeah, yep, that uh, that sounds good. You fell asleep in jeans and tee so I'll just come by in this, and oh your keys were in your pocket. Cool, what kinda car do I look for?”

“It's a small white car just outside the coffee shop downstairs. If anyone tries to stop you just say you have a family emergency and will call them later.”

“Sounds good, uh if they try to stop me what name do I answer to if called?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry. Steve, my name is Steve. “

“Sounds good Stevie, I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Steve hung up the phone when the dial tone started and looked around, he noticed a door painted black with a red dragon and decided to open it, he was greeted by an immense collection of black clothes and pulled out the first things he saw, on the table next to it there was a dish with some scrunchies and hair ties, he chose a silk one to tie up the curls after finger combing them carefully. Once he was done with that he made his way downstairs wandering until he found the front door, a small bench sat next to it with boots and other shoes lined up carefully and he sat, waiting.

Before he knew it a knock came to the front door and he opened it to see his own face looking at him wide eyed.

“This is real then.” He watched his mouth say, he nodded and swallowed.

“Hi, Eddie. I want so badly to say it's nice to meet you, but uh, every time I've thought about meeting you it was more running into you, or maybe going to a concert with my ear protection but having the backstage passes to meet the band, flirting and then…well. Anyway, ahem, why don't uh you show me where your coffee is and we can brainstorm how to change us back?”

Eddie led him into the kitchen and he sat on a bar stool while he flitted around making them some coffee. They started talking, it lasted for hours and finally Eddie looked at him for a moment, and then took a deep breath.

“Okay, I want to try something, and if it doesn't work please don't punch me.” He began, and leaned over to pull Steve into a kiss who immediately saw stars behind his eyelids and melted into the embrace. Either this kiss was world shattering, or the cosmos conspired to find Steve a boyfriend. Eventually they pulled apart both panting and slowly opened their eyes. Steve found himself looking at the rockstar now and giggled.

“It worked.” He whispered. “You're you again, and I'm me.”

“That it did sweetheart. I know this seems fast, but do you want to maybe go on a date with me? I don't think I'm going to forget you anytime soon.”

“I'll go on all the dates with you Eddie Munson.” And Steve pulled him back into a sweet passionate kiss.

They would spend the next weeks and months getting to know each other, but they felt as though they'd known each other in every life, for eons. Fate brought them together and they fell hopelessly, emphatically in love.

[gardenoflupins]

Bodyswap AU / @wolfstarmicrofic / 976 words

Remus should have known something was wrong.

He woke up feeling refreshed and strong which was unlikely after a full moon. When he inspected his arms he knew something bad had happened. There were no scars from the bites he had given himself last night. Along with this, he could see black hair falling down his shoulders.

He scrambled out of his warm bed to the closest mirror in the odd room he had woken up in.

Remus skidded to a halt when he was face to face with Sirius Black, looking at him with wild eyes and a heaving chest.

Remus’s mind ran with all sorts of horrible thoughts before he decided the mirror was cursed.

That was until he remembered he could literally see the difference in his body.

Spiralling with paranoia, Remus leaned against the mirror and stared at the wide, light grey eyes looking back in terror. Not an expression he has ever seen on Sirius.

It hits Remus coldly when he remembers Snape’s threat from the beginning of the week about how he was going to make Remus regret it when Remus told the headmaster that Snape found out his secret and was going to out him. Obviously, Dumbledore forbade it and Snape was left restless and bitter.

But this?

Turning Remus into the most popular boy, one he hardly knew, was ridiculous and futile. He changed Remus’s appearance, so what? At least now he was temporarily hot.

Remus evened out his breathing. This was fine. He would fix this before classes started. He leaned his back against the mirror and looked around the room. He took in the music posters and the way the room had unfamiliar things scattered around.

Worse, he saw James Potter blinking blearily from his own bed. Remus froze, thinking for the first time that maybe this wasn’t some type of fucked up polyjuice potion and that perhaps Snape had discovered a way to swap his body with someone elses.

The blatant reason blares through his mind. It was so someone else would take in their wounds and make the connection that Remus was a werewolf.

His hands began to shake. Who was he swapped with? Snape? Mulciber? Definitely with someone out to get him.

He’d run to the infirmary to see if he was right. As he darted to the door, James intercepted him. Remus hadn’t realised he had gotten up.

“Where are you off too? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he yawned.

Don’t reply, don’t reply, don’t reply.

What would Sirius say?

Sirius.

Where was Sirius?

It dawned on Remus that Snape had probably swapped his body with Sirius’s. Somehow, that was almost worse. His eyes fluttered shut.

“Nowhere,” he breathed.

Remus could not get rid of Sirius’s friends. They followed him everywhere and always pestered him with conversation. He was gnawing on a fork by lunch because he hadn’t seen Sirius all day and couldn’t visit the infirmary alone.

He could burst into tears from anxiety.

Surely, if things were horrible, a professor would have pulled him aside.

The more he waited, the more his paranoia grew. He couldn’t hide it from Sirius’s friends who watched him like hawks but didn’t press after how stressed he’d been the first time they tried.

“Can I sit here?” a voice asked from behind.

Remus stiffened, knowing that voice intimately. James and Peter looked curiously at the speaker. Slowly, Remus turned around, feeling faint and pale.

His own face stared at him with a raised brow. Sirius looked sickly in his body but he hid his pain well. Not waiting for his response, he flopped down next to Remus.

“Looking good, by the way.”

Remus cringed into himself and Sirius kicked him sharply under the table. Remus flinched. “Ah— thank you? I mean, I know.”

Sirius gave him a very unimpressed look with Remus’s evaluation of him. Remus chewed on his bottom lip, drawing Sirius’s gaze to it. Right, of course. He wasn’t in his own body. It was surreal to see himself sitting next to him with expressions he didn’t usually make. Those at least screamed Sirius Black.

Fortunately, Sirius ignored his usual group of friends who gawked openly. Remus didn’t know what he’d do if he went into his usual chatter with the boys. He could see that Sirius’s temperament today was reserved and displeased.

Sirius side eyed him. “Can I ask why?”

Remus looked at him with despair, this wasn’t his doing at all. “Snape,” he answered mournfully.

Sirius looked past him to glare hatefully at the Slytherin table. The snarl on his face was the harshest expression Remus had ever seen. “Stupid fucking cunt,” he snapped.

Remus jolted, not expecting it. He started worrying that Sirius was very unhappy to be in a werewolf’s body. He obviously knew what Remus was by now, especially if he spoke to Madam Pomfrey.

“Cruel, tactless, piece of shit,” Sirius listed with agitation. James and Peter stared at him with eyes wide with shock and glee. They would surely harass him later with gratitude. Brilliant.

“Let’s go to Mada—“ Sirius’s eyes flicker to his friends. “Professor McGonagall wants to talk to us about doing study sessions together.”

Remus caves in on himself. He was going to be in so much shit. He irrationally thought of Aurors waiting for him outside.

Sirius places a hand gently on his own and Remus looks into his kind eyes. “Hey, you’re alright, I promise. I’m going to fix this.” He casts another venomous look at the Slytherin table. “And I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Remus holds his breath. Perhaps, their shared hatred of Snape would save him. He lets Sirius tug him out of his chair and doesn’t let go of his hand, clasping it tightly for support. In response, Sirius rubs a thumb soothingly over it.

[foerchen]

Preview for Chapter 2 of “swapped”

Dick: *in Tim’s body*

Dick: It’s been a while since I was this tiny!

Jason: *in Dick’s body, snorts*

Jason: With the amount of coffee he drinks, it was bound to stunt his growth.

Dick: *looks at Tim aghast*

Dick: No coffee for you anymore, mister!

Tim: *in Jason’s body, Pit Raging*

Tim: NOT. MY. COFFEE.

(edit: swapped - Chapter 2 - foerchen - Batman - All Media Types [Archive of Our Own])

[berenwrites]

Through Your Eyes - Steddie - PG13

for @steddie-week Day 4

Prompt: Trade / body swap / Wouldn't It Be Good by Nik Kershaw

rated pg-13 | 943 wds | cw: choking | tags: eddie lives, pre-steddie

Summary: Steve wakes up and something is definitely not right.

A/N: Apologies for being late with this and for not writing day 3 - everything I tried to put to paper over the last 2 days refused to play ball until this morning.

(Also on AO3) ( My Other fic on Tumblr)

Through Your Eyes: A Living Nightmare

Steve woke up choking and desperately trying to pull something out of his throat. His lungs were screaming at him. He couldn’t breathe. When the obstruction finally cleared his airway, he threw it to the side, coughing up slime and sucking in precious oxygen.

For what felt like an age, all he could hear, all he could feel, were his lungs franticly trying to get enough air.

His whole body ached, and his chest felt like it had been pounded. It was, unfortunately, not an unprecedented feeling. Not that that made it any easier to deal with.

Only as he finally managed one long deep breath did he realise something was wrong. Looking up, he saw a red sky. Ice flashed through his veins as he took in the Upside Down. Turning his head from one side to the other, be looked for any explanation. Next to him was a pile of vines that looked like they had been in some kind of shape like the pots they had made from snakes of clay in kindergarten. The ‘pot’ was open right next to where he was kneeling. It dawned on him the thing he had pulled from his throat had also been a vine.

He had gone to sleep in his own bed, waking up here made no sense. He hadn’t been anywhere near the Upside Down.

It was so hard not to panic.

How had he got here? What had happened to him?

So many questions flashed through his head. None of which he could answer.

He forced himself to take another deep breath. He needed to get up and get out. He’d done it before, he could do it again. Only when he tried to stand, his limbs refused to support him, and he ended up back on his hands and knees. Slime-covered hair flopped in his face, wrapping across and under his chin. He froze.

That wasn’t right.

Staring down at his hands, he let the fight or flight need lower as his confused mind sorted through what was going on. Rings glinted from his fingers in the red light. He didn’t have rings. Sitting up and back, he lifted his hands, looking at them and down at his body. Only it wasn’t his body. He recognised the ripped jeans, even more ripped now, and the devastated Hellfire shirt. This wasn’t his body because it was Eddie’s.

For a second he felt the ridiculous desire to laugh.

This made no sense. Nothing made any sense. Was he having some bizarre nightmare? It felt so real.

Just when he thought he might go mad, he felt a weird kind of pulling. It felt like someone was standing behind him and pulling on his insides. Something ripped, like Velcro. His surroundings went hazy, swirling and making his stomach churn. He felt like he was falling, only it wasn’t air rushing past him, it was something else, something that made his nerves tingle. He still landed with a thud though, body shuddering from head to foot like he’s just been thrown to the floor.

It was so overwhelming it took him a few seconds to adjust. When he opened his eyes, he saw his bedroom, only he wasn’t in his bed, he was sitting at his desk, and in his left hand was a screwed-up piece of paper. In his right was a pen. If he had been in bed, he could have put everything down to the weirdest nightmare he had had yet, but he wasn’t.

He swallowed, remembering the taste of slime in his mouth and the rawness of his abused throat. Not sure what he was going to see, he flattened out the piece of paper, taking in the scrawling handwriting that was not his own.

Steve, I don’t know why this is happening, but I need you to believe it is. Maybe it’s the bats, fuck if I know. He brought me back. Restarted my heart, cocooned me in his vines, and healed me. He wants an avatar to cause chaos and terror. He wanted you, but couldn’t get into your head, so whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. So, he’s making do with me, only when he tried to take over something happened. It felt like a door slamming shut in my head, and I found myself in your body. I can feel myself being pulled back, so I’m writing this as fast as I can. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fight him off when I’m me again, so I need you to know what I know, what I saw when he was in my head. He’s weak. We nearly did it. But he’s getting stronger because of the rifts. Act fast. I’m sorry I broke my promise. I had to save Dustin. Did what I thought you would have done. I need to tell you

The writing just stopped, as if Eddie had been in the middle of it when they swapped back.

Steve read it a second time, then a third. Gripping it tightly, he stood and pulled the box from under his bed, taking out the walkie he had hidden there.

“Anyone listening, this is Steve, we have a code red, repeat code red. Over.”

“Dustin here,” came back almost instantly, not really surprising as the kid was paranoid since their encounter with Vecna, “what’s the situation? Over.”

“Eddie’s alive in the Upside Down, we need to move. Over.”

He didn’t know how they were going to do it, but he did know two things: one they had to get Eddie back, and two Vecna was going down, for good this time.

( My Other fic on Tumblr)

[frownyalfred]

say what you will about superbat, but they are absolutely the target couple for the “it’s not weird if we fuck while bodyswapped because it’s really just like fucking yourself” trope

[faecaribou]

TF2 Body Swap AU in which everyone is miserable except for Pyro and Scout but then some of Medics least smart birds start following Scout as Medic around and Scout freaks out so really only Pyro is happy

Swaps: Spy -> Scout -> Medic -> Soldier -> Engineer -> Heavy -> Pyro -> Demo -> Sniper -> back to Spy

[doodlingbiscuit]

*crumples this up in a ball and slams it next to your feet*

[kalmiaphlox]

Damn, this is what it feels like to be you?

AO3 Link / Masterlist

Part 2 / Part 3

Don't Touch That!

All it takes is one little touch and now they are no longer where they should be. Hircine is Astarion. Astarion is Hircine. Hircine knows better than to mess with mysterious eldritch artifacts, and so should Astarion. This knowledge does not stop them from looking into the unknowable. Chaos ensues as they learn what it really means to be alive and undead.

Pairing: Astarion x Named Female Tav (Hircine)

WC: 6.7k

Main Tags: Body Swap, Humor, Fluff, Astarion loves himself and boobs, smut coming in later parts, Touching things you shouldn't, Astarion now has an eldritch being in his brain.

Tag list: @zozoparsnips

Dredged up from the deepest bowels of the Underdark, the three mystery artifacts now lie before them, foreign and incomprehensible in their geometry, protectively encased in enchanted glass on the marble slab table.

Hircine claps her hands together softly in excitement, rocking back on her heels, eager to inspect these things in whatever capacity she is able. 

His knowledge of abyssal is worthless here; unfortunately, there will be no wowing his wife by name dropping Ubothar and Malcanthet, or monologuing about the caste system of the tanar’ri—or lack thereof. 

Clearly the subjects of her fascination tonight are from the far realms, a topic Astarion has been learning diligently about, even if it is all a bunch of incoherent devilshite. At the end of the night, eldritch horrors beyond their wildest imaginations are one of the few things that breaks Hircine out of her melancholy, so he’ll indulge her when he can.

The three scavenged objects were somehow so similar to each other in their aura, yet so completely different in their makeup. One warps and writhes in place, as if tentacles might sprout forth from its shell at any moment, but nothing ever happens as the intangible masses flow beneath the surface. The middle object floats a few centimeters off the table, morphing between geometrical and amorphous shapes, hovering within its glass encasing, pulsing an ominous purple, a beacon of nefarious purpose that could easily fit in his palm. The last is a green ball-shaped rock, unassuming in its appearance.

Hircine tugs at his sleeve, pointing at the relatively normal looking rock. “Husband, that's a dormant slaad egg! They are typically implanted into a host and then burst out in a shower of blood and guts. I’ve only ever seen a red egg before… The green ones are more rare since they require a high concentration of magic from the host.” She sighs dreamily, hugging onto his arm and leaning her head on his shoulder.

Astarion fails to ignore the way her breasts press against him, the warmth all too pleasant as it radiates from her body. 

Ugh. If he humors her now, she’ll humor him later. “Will the egg stay like that or is a host-eater about to make us dinner?” 

“Hmm, we should be fine. They need to feed on their host's insides to hatch, so keep it outside of your body.”

“Good to know,” he mutters. “What are the other two?”

To his disappointment, Hircine releases her hold on him, moving in to inspect the more ‘active’ objects. “That's what I'm hoping to find out. I brought some books to help with identification, but I don’t have a lot of confidence that we can glean their true purpose from some texts.”

She reaches forward, carefully removing the boxes encasing each of the eldritch… baubles—that probably isn’t a good idea, just giving the things open access. They stay in place, but Astarion swears the purple glowing one begins to pulse faster now that it’s ‘free’.

“Don’t touch them.” Hircine says.

He nods, not needing to be told twice as he takes a step towards the table, careful to stay slightly out of arm's reach. Astarion won’t be getting infected with slaad parasites tonight.

While he stares between the artifacts, Hircine flips through books on another table off to the side, reading aloud as she tries to find any useful information hidden in their pages.

Like a fish caught on a line, Astarion can't take his eyes off the amorphous orb-thing as it begins to blink between flashes of purple and white, its buzz drowning out all thought. Astarion makes another move closer, a tug within his mind calling out to him, begging for his touch. It whispers inchoate nothings, a madness so real and tangible he could grasp it easily in his hand, feel the coil of its vibrant light as he slips into its unreasonable cocoon.

E̸̳͙̖̟̳̰̟̜͈͙̪̖̲͗̓͗̅́͗͗̚͜͝͠X̵̛̤̟̲̜̳̤̠́͌̈́̈́̓̇̈́́̋̀͘C̵̢͇̤̩̹̬͎̱̀͛H̸̤̦̙̳̬̪̫͇̭̼̩̱̗̅̀̌͋͘͘͜Á̷͎̣͓̓̂̾͂̽̊̂̈́̂̀̀̚͘̚ͅN̸̢̨̧̛̺̟̭͓̖̅̈́̇́̔̓̈́̀̆̈́̚͝ͅG̸̡̠͕̣̝̝̺̗̘̟̺͕̼̗̅̿͂̓̔̈́̏͛͂̋̽̕̚͝͠E̷̡̙̟̔̒͐̅̽̌̕͘

All he has to do is release it.

Hircine’s voice, a distant melody floating through time and space, reaches him within the fog of irrationality. “Husband, did you hea—No! Don’t to—”

Astarion’s fingers brush against the object, a hard jelly beneath his touch, incomprehensible visions flashing before him and—

++++

c̴̛͎̓͌̾̀̓͋̒̋̇͘͝ą̸̫̱͔̥̝͎̯̦͈̼̮̂͂́̊̈́̇̽̿̓̈́̚̚͝͠ĩ̸̡̜͖̫̥̮̬͆́̄̀̒̃̎͒͂̍͑̾̈́̕͜s̷̢̛͇͖͇̰̰̱̻̬̄͂̇͑̕̚ľ̷̩͕̟͕̃̃ȉ̵̙̼ǫ̶̡̲͎̰̗̻̺̦͚̙̼̱̳̌̈́͐͂̒͐̿͆̓̓͛̓̕͝͝ả̵̛̝̞̭̙͖͚̟̻̼̲͑̍̓̋̂̌͗͛͒̉̽ś̸̢̛͖̹̲̖̻̫͉̘̥̮̉̈̃̆̆͝͝͝

Oh gods, his body aches, muscles tight and strained as if he spent days in the kennels under Godey’s watchful care. Even his eyelids are heavy, unwilling to open as Astarion slowly stirs back to consciousness. 

What happened?

He had been watching the eldritch things while Hircine was reading, and then… nothing. 

Did he pass out? 

̴̨̨̢̤̘̞̹̲̻̻̦̓̆̊͜͜h̴̛̗̰̝͚̔̑͜͜͠ḱ̶̮̝̠̜̙̜̤̞̣̗̟͖̑̑̀͌̈́̒̾̔̄̕͠H̷̛̺̟͓̳̱̝̜͈̺̥͉͇͉̖̱͛̂͒̓̿͛̌͘O̴̮̮̞̱̰̙͖̼̹̽͆̒̓͆̿͛H̵̡̨̻̭̗̤̥̰͕̱̘͗̅͑́̓̂̄͛̅͆̾̿̑̕͘g̸̭͚̬̻̻̤̦̺̏̈́̈́̾̏͜͠

There’s this alien warble that ebbs and flows within his head, discordant and atonal, but just as it appears, it is gone, fading from his mind without a second thought as to why it is there to begin with or where it came from.

A twitch of his finger confirms he’s regaining some mobility, slowly working inwards as joints are flexed and rolled around, anything to feel something more than this soreness.

But why do his legs and feet feel bare? Astarion was definitely wearing pants and shoes when they entered the mines. 

Perhaps someone brought them back up and Lexi stripped him down.

Except his shirt is still on and strangely tight against his chest.

He tilts his head side to side, a new feeling other than the ache permeates under his skin—a soft, blooming warmth, so welcoming in its arrival. Not the kind brought on by lying beside a roaring fire, but one deep within, as if Astarion gorged on a mass amount of blood. It's been a few days since a meal like that.

Finally, his eyes open.

The hewn rock ceiling greets him. So, he's still in the mines. 

Then where is Hircine?

Everything feels so… shrunk down, like his limbs aren't where they should be. He raggedly groans as he struggles to sit up but a breathy rasp is all that rattles out of his chest.

Bones in his neck pop as he stretches upwards. Hells, since when has he been so tense? There's such a heaviness to the back of his head too, a weight pulling him back down to the ground. 

And then he feels it, that constant rhythm pounding against his ribcage.

A heartbeat, powerful and steady, screaming that he's alive once again. 

His hand shoots up to place itself over his chest but collides with something much too soft and squishy to be him.

Astarion looks down and—

What in the nine hells is this?!

Fleshy mounds protrude from his(?) chest, draped in skin-tight silk dyed a color only one person wears everyday of her life. Strands of gray and silver streaked hair spill over his(?) shoulders. The hand grabbing at his(?) chest a pearly light gray with neatly filed nails rounded at the ends.

Astarion has no pants on because he's now wearing a dress that is a little too form-fitting, and there's no shoes since his wife hates those.

He is no longer him. 

He doesn't want to be something else again. Isn't one horrific change enough in his terrible, no good life?

But Astarion is alive, literally. His(?) heart beats a familiar cadence, one he knows well from so many nights resting his head right atop where it lies, while the fingers he now controls stroke through his curls or down his arms.

If Astarion is here, inside of Hircine, then where is she? 

That ever-present hunger for blood is now gone. He’s at peace—mostly. He recalls Hircine ate a few hours before they started their artifact inspection and now there is an emptiness within his—her—stomach, though it does not compare to the cavernous, never-ending desolation of being unable to truly sate oneself. 

He should be fine without real food for a little longer. 

Struggling to stand up, Astarion grips onto the table, unsteady on his(?) feet. His balance is completely off center as he uses the table to hoist himself into a standing position but he tips forward, leaning against the cool granite in an effort to not collapse completely. 

Gods, how does she walk around like this, so top heavy all the time? 

No wonder Hircine never complains when he holds her tits.

Now, where is—

Ah, there is his body, face down on the ground, one arm outstretched as if reaching for something.

The steady pace of his heart quickens, his breathing—gods above, I'm breathing because I need it and I didn't even notice!—hitches as he chokes for air. 

What if Hircine is gone because he took her place? 

What if his body is now an empty husk, never to move again?

There's no sign of life from his actual body, and of course there wouldn't be because he's an undead vampire! 

It's not time to stand yet with these legs, they feel so… thin. Astarion gets back down on hands and knees, crawling his way over to his prone body. With shaking hands he tugs at his body, failing to roll himself over. 

Am I that heavy or is Hircine really weak? 

Adjusting himself so his—her back is pressed against a table, Astarion pushes with shaky legs, slowly working his body over onto its side before it flops onto his back, head lolling around limply. 

When Hircine learned that Astarion no longer remembers what his face looks like, she immediately hired a painter to capture his—their likeness together. In Darkfire Hall, there now hangs a single portrait of Astarion and Hircine in the sitting room and he might spend a few minutes a day staring at it, memorizing that face so he will never forget it again. 

But this is his actual honest to gods face, in the flesh, laid out on the stone ground where he can touch it. 

Astarion leans in close but is stopped by his head throbbing with more of that accursed fuzziness. 

ḏ̶̢̼̹̤̣͕͉̘̼͈̑͒̓͌͑͌s̸̡̡̖̟̝͚̜̙̣̖̘̪͍̀̐͒ṣ̶̪̭̙̻̐͑̔̒̂̄̃̄͂̈́̓̚̕͝͠ķ̷̡̧̻̮̹̼͓̦͙̫̩̭̤̝̉͌i̷͎̠̰̠͕̊͌͋̕ͅͅ

And then it's gone again. 

Good riddance. He has more important things to think about.

The painting is nice and Astarion will forever be grateful, but nothing—nothing—compares to the real thing.

A strong, sharp nose stands prominently at the center of his face, accentuated by high cheekbones and sunken smile lines that must have formed from times long forgotten, never to be remembered again. Thick, dark lashes line his shut eyelids, no movement to be seen beneath them, and right now he wishes more than anything they would open, even if all he’ll see is the same eyes as his siblings.

The same eyes as Cazador, yet Astarion’s all the same.

He moves on, roving over his features, impressing them upon his memory. 

I will not be forgotten again.

To think all this beauty has been kept from him, and all because of the eternal curse Cazador has subjected him too. He won't be thanking whatever plight they've fallen into, but Astarion can certainly take the time to enjoy what's before him now: the most beautiful man in all the realms—Hircine would agree. 

He uses Hircine’s slender fingers to trail delicately from his full gray brows, down the slope of his nose to the bow of his lips, feeling them give as he presses lightly upon them. His hummingbird heart flutters in his chest at the sight, relishing every moment. Raising a lip, Astarion finds those pesky fangs that speak to his vampiric nature, never perfectly hidden but can be easily explained away with enough wine and sultry stares—not something he has to worry about anymore, being married and out of Cazador’s iron grip, at least for a little while longer.

Oh, and his hair. Styling it without a mirror, he knows it is perfect, but seeing it like this is much better. Those silver curls, softer than maratman silk and styled with more care than a mother would lay upon her babe. 

The incandescent glow of the magic lamps does nothing for his pallor, casting a sickly sheen over his skin that highlights and enlarges his pores, and turns the dark spots under his eyes into something garish, harsh.

How awful. He needs to get his body out of here and into better lighting to remember it by.

Not that Astarion can carry himself like this, not with Hircine’s willowy frame that bows against the slightest breeze in its frailty. 

And what if she is gone?

A lump has formed in his—hers? Fuck it, his!—throat and he swallows it down, rough as sandpaper. 

It was fake to begin with, yes, but their marriage is real as it can be under the current circumstances… It doesn’t feel fair to lose her like this.

Please, be here.

Steeling himself with a deep breath, Astarion winds his hand back and slaps it across his real face, watching it snap away. His palm stings something fierce, good gods, no wonder Hircine is pain-averse. Her skin’s so sensitive. 

It worked though.

The eyelids flutter as a strangled growl gets caught in his body’s throat, head rolling side to side when another pinched groan rumbles from his chest. Red flashes, catching the light as his eyes open completely, searching crazily around the room until they land on Hircine’s face. Scared recognition flares in those molten garnet pools.

Gods, I’m beautiful.

“Hircine?” Astarion says in her feminine voice, barely speaking above a shaky whisper.

His body’s jaw drops open, clicking and choking noses eeking from his throat as he sits up, scrabbling at his neck.

What is happening?

Astarion watches a moment longer in confusion before it hits him. He lunges forward, failing to grab the hands clawing at his real throat as they wrench out of his grasp easily. “You need to breathe! You can’t speak unless you take a breath! I know it’s strange, but you’ll get used to it.” Those words work, his body’s panic calming as a gasping breath is taken in. “Is it you, Hircine?” Astarion needs to know if he’s speaking to his wife.

A nod while she practices breathing in and out, no doubt alarmed by how unneeded it is.

Oh, thank fuck. He isn’t confident in his ability to kill anything right now, let alone a vampire being controlled by an unknown entity, and he's unbelievably relieved that Hircine is mostly safe and mostly sound within his body.

“I—I don’t—” She chokes on her words, struggling to get anything out. All in his voice, with his accent and it’s very, very strange. “I can—member…”

“I know, I don’t either, pet. Take your time, get your bearings,” he moves in to hold her cheeks between his hands, disturbed by the noticeable coolness of his body’s skin. How does she not flinch away everytime he touches her? “We’ll be fine.” Astarion has survived much worse transformations, this is a lot less awful than being turned into a vampire.

Finally, she tests her speaking abilities again, voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to be a man.” Tears prick at the corner of her eyes, making those beautiful eyes shine with more polish than a red dragon's scales.

Pinching the high cheekbones, Astarion focuses her attention. “Don't you cry with my face! There are worse things than being turned into a man!”

Hircine rejects his words with a head shake. “You don't understand, this is awful! I can't be a man! Mother will—”

His eyes nearly roll back into his head permanently and he drops his hands from her face. “Keep the man hating inside, you little brat. Come on, get up.” It’s a feat of wills as Astarion staggers to his feet. “Do you feel sore as well? Gods below, I’m just aching all over…”

Hircine shakes her head again, the silver curls atop the crown of his—her!—head loose enough to wiggle with the movement. “No, not really…” She gets up fine, maybe faster than expected as she stumbles backwards into the table that holds the eldritch items.

That’s it!

Holding himself steady along the table edge, Astarion crosses over and finds nothing. They’re gone! “What happened to the artifacts? I think I… might have touched one before we… passed out, but now they’re just gone.”

She turns around, eyes wide in panic. “Even the slaad egg?”

“Yes.”

“Oh gods.” She clutches at her broad chest. “I don’t—I don’t think it’s inside me—you… I’m not sure how I would know, though I would imagine it hurts since they need to feed on your insides.”

Astarion looks down, worried there might be a lump nestled under his skin when all thoughts of slaad eggs invading his body are replaced with other, more lustful urges.

 While Hircine searches around the room, flipping over sheets and muttering angrily, Astarion takes this opportunity to really learn his wife’s body—for his eternal obsession and her future enjoyment, should they ever return to their bodies.

He loves her breasts.

A lot.

They’re perfect in every way. Impossibly soft, round, and heavy with the slightest, barely there sag that makes them even more delightful, always overflowing in his grabby hands, but aren’t so large that they dwarf her toned body. He also can't forget the ghostly white nipples that are not too good to eat, especially since they match her pretty little mouth when her lipstick has been wiped away.

He cups them, her small hands sinking into the malleable flesh, though the tight silk of her dress keeps them from moving around too much. 

There's never been a lot of thought put into how this feels for Hircine other than that it's very, very good when he's pinching or pulling on a nipple if her moans and gasps are anything to go by. 

The fat of her breasts being touched, it doesn't feel good or bad, mostly neutral as if he's grabbing at any other part of his body. 

Maybe it feels different with someone else touching them… Experimentation can come later if they don't change back soon.

His lively heart thrums in anticipation of his next move.

The pads of his fingers brush over where he’s sure her nipples lie and—

“Ahhh~!” A high-pitched whine breaks past his lips as his legs squeeze together involuntarily. Gods below, that was—

Hircine looks up from her destructive scavenge, a scowl furrowing her manicured brows and twisting her mouth down. “Seriously? Stop touching me!” She hisses, just the same as he has in the past when telling Petras to get his mangy hide out of the way.

“How do you keep your hands off yourself all day?!” Just that touch sent the most delicious tingle down to his nether regions. 

“I don't have much desire to touch myself,” she says, stepping beside him, “especially while out in public.” She grabs his wrists firmly, pushing them from her breasts and Astarion yelps with shock.

“Ow! Can't you be more gentle?” He demands, yanking himself out of her grasp to massage his probably bruised wrists. “You damned brute!”

Red eyes blink in surprise as Hircine looks down at her—his body’s hands. Oh gods, this is so confusing. His body is now hers, he needs to commit to that. She speaks quietly. “I thought I was being gentle… I barely touched you.”

Oh, dear. “Is this how it feels for you all the time? Am I too rough with you?”

Turning away with a noncommittal shrug, she says, “I don't know. Things feel the way they feel, I never put much thought in it.”

Her non-answer tells Astarion that yes, he probably is too rough, along with everyone else. No wonder she was so touch-averse in the beginning. 

Well, it could be that, or her intense hatred of men…

Or a certain other bastard.

Actually, Hircine lets him know when she doesn't like something. She would have said by now if Astarion wasn't handling her with care.

He’ll still be more gentle going forward.

With a shake of her head, Hircine groans in frustration. “The artifacts are gone without a trace. I don't know what to do!”

Knowing the far realms, they’re probably gone for good. “Why don't we go home and ask Lexi? She can undo curses.”

“I-I guess, but what if someone needs me here in—”

Astarion interrupts her. “Pet, I am in your body and we both know I can't hold a passable conversation in undercommon. I won't be able to answer any of their questions when they only come to you.” He takes her large hands in his, startled again by the room temperature coolness of them. “Besides, I'm always telling you to take a break. It's a sign from the gods—or the unknowable!”

She chews at her lip, a fang peeking through before Hircine nods. “Alright. We should go quickly though.”

They exit into the hallway of the mines, luckily clear of any employees but that could change at a moment's notice. Swiftly winding their way down the hall to the elevator that takes them back home, they are stopped by the disgusting jermlaine, Thirsk, who holds a tiny hand-made shiv in his hands. His beady little eyes dart between the two of them, but they both know he's going after Astarion's body. 

The vile thing lusts after his wife! It's only goal is to remove Astarion from the equation now—too bad for Thirsk, Astarion isn't going anywhere. 

“Oh, someone's in a bad mood.” Hircine whispers. she scans along the ground, pointing out broken glass along the ground. “Watch your feet.”

“I wouldn't have to if you wore shoes!”

“Not happening~” Is her sing-song response that falls very flat in his voice. “You have no idea how badly I want to tear yours off right now.”

“Ugh, whatever! Just kick that thing into oblivion so we can go!”

Hircine gasps. “How dare you! I will not allow you to hurt Thirsk!”

“You and you're—” Astarion's grumbling is cut off as another idea comes to him. “Carry me and then just run for it! He's not fast enough to keep up.”

If Hircine has any doubts about this plan, she keeps it quiet. Quickly placing her arms under his back and knees, she lifts him up with so much ease that Astarion gasps as they make their break for it, sprinting past Thirsk before the ugly beast even knows what's happening.

The elevator entrance is slammed shut and latched before the lever is pulled, beginning their ascent home.

Getting carried is nice. That won't be a common occurrence when they return to their original bodies so he'll make the most of it while he can.

“Will you carry me back to Darkfire, my love?” He asks, fluttering his lashes with the sweetest simper. 

Hircine’s face twists with disgust. “Begging with my face does nothing for me… but yes, I think I can do that.”

He throws his arms around her neck, pressing kisses to her smooth cheek that earn him nothing but an eyeroll. “I could kiss myself all day.”

“Ugh,” she scoffs.

They settle into a silence as Astarion enjoys being held by himself.

He would very much like his body back, as soon as possible, but a day or so of play shouldn't be so bad. Especially when he gets to experience living again. 

“Are you always so… hungry?” Hircine asks eventually, strained and quiet.

His last meal was two nights ago, and a quite filling one at that with a deer and Hircine’s blood to top it off. 

But yes, he is always hungry. An eternal thirst that will never be quenched no matter how hard he tries.

“It's just the nature of being a vampire, Love. Don't worry about it too much.” He sweeps a hand across her face, tucking loosened curls back into place. 

“How do you ignore it?”

“Years and… years of practice. It does get easier, but it will never truly disappear.”

Those sparkling red eyes find his, wide and frightened. “I'm not feeding you enough, am I?”

“No, no. Don't think that. Trust me, Hircine, it's enough, more than enough actually. You give me more blood in a week than I've received in probably ten years.”

 Bringing their lips together, they share a hesitant kiss before Hircine pulls away fast, disgruntled. “I really don't like kissing myself.”

Astarion laughs loudly, echoing off the cavern walls. “How could you not? You're so beautiful!”

“I'm not attracted to myself. It's weird.”

“Fair enough. I'll be attracted to us both then.” He taps her nose, getting ready to say more when that atonal droning shatters his thoughts once again.

ļ̴̨̻̝̻͙͚͙̔à̵̡̢̼̖̞̺̝͍̻͕͊͛̍̈̍͑͘͠d̶̹̬͖͔̩̯͉̳͔̍̓̈́̅̌́͋͛͝Ỳ̴̰̬͙͓̤̹̬̠̳͖̰͋̓̄U̵̢͖̜͚͎̼̙̱̦̲̮̻̦̔̇̿̉̃̈́̌͑̅̍̏̃̕̕͜

Wincing, Astarion kneads his fingers into his temples. He can't be the only one, right? “Do you hear that noise? It's like, uh, a voice but not. I can't understand it. Do you think it's—”

“It's Herma-Mora.” She says definitively.

“As in the far realm entity that corrupted your mind at too young an age?”

She rolls her red eyes. “Yes. Just avoid actually reaching out to him. It’s not like he’s actually meaning to  communicate through our connection, they just slip through. I’m able to block it out for the most part.”

Great, so Astarion is stuck with her mind invader, unable to silence him completely. The only upside is that Herma-Mora can’t hurt him… allegedly. What if his mind just isn’t equipped for it’s irrational chatter?

They depart from the elevator, and make it back to Darkfire without any interruption. Astarion doesn’t fear faking his somber and quiet wife—anyone can do that since that would be easy. It would be the cornering by one of her brothers or her mother’s sharp eyes, catching any wrong movement or inflection when they are always looking for Hircine's imperfections. 

If anything, Hircine is the one in trouble should they be caught by one of her siblings. They both know she can’t make passable conversation on a good day, and having Astarion who is always loudly speaking with his hands be still and stoic would be instantly suspicious. 

Nothing to worry about, of course. 

The doors to their hall are opened, greeting them with silence. Sometimes Lexi is standing here waiting for them…

Ah, right. “How do you do that mind talking thing? Isn’t that how you summon Lexi around?” He asks as he’s set down on the ground. 

Hircine is quick to shed the shoes and socks Astarion put on this afternoon, groaning in relief as her feet are bare once again. “Yes… but I don’t really know how, it’s second nature, I guess. Maybe focus on me and see if you can send anything over?”

Her telepathy only works one way, thankfully. They would have been in for a bad time if Hircine could have read his thoughts since the beginning.

Dragging Hircine over to the couch, which isn’t that easy because his actual body is shockingly immovable when Astarion goes to push her forward, he makes her sit so he can attempt this special form of communication.

Across from her on the couch, they lock eyes as he concentrates, willing his thoughts into her head.

‘Can you hear me?’ — No response from Hircine.

‘What about now?’ — Nothing again.

There’s a chance it’s not even possible, what with their bodies changed, but gods damn it, he wants it to work. Feeling frustration well in his chest, Astarion gives it one last go, forcing a message to Hircine, demanding she hear it.

‘LISTEN TO ME!’

Instantly, she crumples in on herself, clutching her head with a gasp. “Agh! What the—Is that what it feels like when I speak to you? Oh my gods, that hurt!”

Oh, maybe he went a little too hard. “I—No, it’s never hurt me. The first time was alarming, but no pain accompanied it. I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t play with it lest I inflict some real damage.”

“I think that is a good idea, Husband.” She presses fingers into eyes for what he can only assume is relief from whatever he just assaulted her brain with.

Being called ‘Husband’ by his own voice is weird… and maybe a little arousing. Astarion chews on one of his very soft lips, willing the thoughts away so they can return to their more serious problem. “Do you think Lexi can… help us?”

Stretching back upright, Hircine shrugs. “I don’t know. I forgot she’s out of the manor until tomorrow, so we might have to wait. Maybe we’ll turn back on our own in due time or maybe the slaad egg is buried in one of our bodies so we’ll die horribly and not even have to think about it.”

“I’d rather not die to a fucking frog demon bursting out of my chest, Hircine.” 

She waves his concerns away. “We would have known already if it was inside us, trust me. Let’s just endure what we can until Lexi returns. She can fix anything.”

Tsk, for Hircine maybe. Lexi sure wouldn’t mind Astarion becoming a host for any assortment of things if it meant getting him away from her lady.

How are they going to pass the time like this? He could read, but he feels like that will open his mind up for more of Herma-Mora’s disturbing vocalizations. No wonder Hircine is so scattered all the time when she has multiple people clamoring for her constantly, inside and out.

Actually, there is—

His stomach growls, loudly, demanding all of their attention. There’s an emptiness inside of him, nothing like his thirst for blood which is all consuming and constant, but a slight nagging sensation that could be easily ignored—for now.

Hircine smirks, all fangs. “I guess I haven’t eaten in a while.” 

“I—No, I guess not. What should I do?” Astarion places a hand over his flat stomach, feeling small vibrations from within as it growls yet again.

“Well, you should eat. That’s what I do.”

Eat? Like real, normal food? His mouth begins to salivate. “I can eat whatever I want?”

“Whatever’s in the kitchen, but yes.” Hircine laughter is bright.

Jumping to his feet, Astarion runs for the kitchen with Hircine trailing close behind him. “What do you like? Pick it out for me so I can try it!” Two hundred years of starvation and he can finally, truly eat again. Gods, he cannot wait to be full and satisfied—happy!

As she digs through the ice chest, Astarion looks over her shoulder to see what Hircine is grabbing. “Do you want a full meal or to just try whatever you want?” She asks.

“Give me anything! I want it all!”

So maybe getting their body’s swapped, while not ideal, isn’t so bad. To eat again, to live again, even for a day, is wonderful.

If only it were his own body.

Fruits and berries, sweets of all kinds, cheeses, crackers, dried meats and bread are set on the counter. While Hircine plates them, Astarion paces back and forth behind her, in absolute disbelief of what he is about to experience. 

The hungers of (wo)man have returned to him.

“Sit,” Hircine requests, and he all but throws himself into a chair at the small table in the kitchen. He could request they eat in the dining room for a proper experience, but Hircine hates that room so the kitchen will have to do.

The plate is put in front of him, a veritable feast for his senses with its assortment of choices. 

“What do I start with, love?” He glances at Hircine before staring back down at the food, barely bridled excitement boiling over. 

Sitting across from him, her lips twist with consideration. “How about starting slow with a cracker? Take a nibble, see how it feels.”

He’s eaten plenty of times over the past two hundred years. It always tastes like ash, but eating gives the appearance of non-threatening normalcy and there’s nothing that mortals love more than bonding over a shared meal. 

Taking one of the crackers delicately between his fingers, Astarion inspects every minutiae of the crisp food product. The surface is rough and maybe a touch oily, colored a light tan with toasted edges, along with some flecks of some unidentifiable green thing littered throughout.

“Rosemary,” Hircine clarifies as if reading his mind. 

He likes rosemary, the smell of it at least. It's what he uses in his perfume to mask the scent of his undeath.

On an inhale with the cracker close to his nose, he can detect the rosemary, along with salt and the yeasty scent of baked flour. His stomach rumbles loudly this time, a plea for him to take a damn bite.

The cracker is brought to his mouth, barely pinching the corner of it between his teeth, breaking off a crumb to taste. 

Just that small piece is an explosion of flavor in his mouth, the rosemary and salt a perfect combination of savory delight. 

The rest of the cracker is gobbled down, and now having eaten something, his stomach cries out for more.

Hircine really likes berries so he goes for one of those next. 

Astarion is not prepared for the tart burst on his tongue when he pops a blackberry into his mouth, a trickle of its juice running down his chin. 

Alternating different flavor profiles each time, Astarion pairs food that probably does not go together based on Hircine’s disgusted expressions but she lets him do as he pleases until the plate is completely clean. 

He's stuffed. Full. Sated. No desire to eat another bite lingers.

A dream come true.

When he stands, he pats his hand over his stomach finding it no longer flat. There's a little paunch now from having his fill and honestly, Astarion kind of likes it. “Look at this! I'm full!”

Hircine smiles up at him from her seat, very much enjoying his excitement. “Indeed you are. I definitely gave you a bit more than I'd usually eat but it doesn't hurt to indulge every now and then.”

“And indulge I did. Wow, what a feeling and I—Now, I'm so…” He fails to find the words.

“Tired?” Hircine supplies. “When I eat a lot, I want to take a nap.”

Hmm, a nap doesn't sound so bad but there are other things on his mind. “That sounds nice and all, pet, but could we go to our room? I want to look at myself in good lighting.”

She points at her face and he nods. 

Astarion will see all of him.

In the bedroom, lamps are lit and the fireplace is set ablaze. Hircine dutifully sits on the couch, still as a statue, while Astarion buzzes about, pulling at the soft silver curls set atop his real head, tracing his fingers over the high point like the cheekbones, nose, brows, shoulders, everything and just admiring those beautiful features. 

She lets him work in peace with eyes closed when he isn't staring longingly into them, careful to not interrupt his joyful wonder of relearning his face. What a perfect girl, his wife. Astarion would reward her but in their current predicament, that might be a struggle.

He's pinching and bending the tips of his real ears while sitting on her lap when Hircine opens her red eyes, searching him out. Her voice is quiet and hesitant when she speaks. “What if… we’re stuck like this?”

That is the thought he is not ready to fully confront. 

Inside the manor, they can make it work, hide away practicing their mannerisms to present themselves as they should be, that is until Hircine gets called for by the matriarch and then Astarion has to present himself before her, playing the daughter.

Iimithra would see through the farce immediately, but if she can be avoided, then they could prolong the inevitable—or escape perhaps.

What the family will do to them could be manageable, even for frail little Hircine—he hopes, she’s escaped Lolth and death near one hundred fifty years this long.

No, his worries lie with Cazador. His wife understands to a degree what happens now when he is forced home. 

She would break the second Cazador laid his hands on her, in Astarion’s body or not, and that is not the fate Astarion wants for Hircine. He won't see that hard-earned smile wiped from her face.

For now, there is no plan. They will wait, enjoy the night as is until Lexi returns and then they will do whatever they need to survive, just as he's always done. 

Cradling her cheeks in his hands, Astarion smiles before placing a kiss on Hircine’s nose. “We will be fine. I'll make sure of it, my sweet love.”

And fine, they will be.

“Could you do something for me?” He asks as he pulls back a bit, staring into her gorgeous ruby eyes. 

“If it's within my power.”

Getting up, Astarion takes her hand, attempting to help her to her feet, but it's really all for show when this body is weaker than a rabbit. A few steps are taken away to give them enough distance so that Astarion can capture his entire body in view. “Alright,” he begins, “can you copy my movements? I move this hand,” his right hand shakes before he points at her opposing hand, “you move that one, as if I were looking in a mirror.”

Her pale eyebrows raise up high and then Hircine nods. “Absolutely. Show me what you want.”

Astarion places his hands on his hips, standing up straight, and Hircine follows suit quickly, imitating him wonderfully, just as his perfect girl should. He turns his head left and right slowly, watching as she does the same so he can see every aspect of his body in whatever way possible. 

A soft, no-teeth-bared smile is given with Hircine performing impeccably. Is that how Astarion smiles at her when she’s being cute and sweet? No wonder she turns into a puddle for him all the time. 

Next, he morphs his smile into a seductive grin and Hircine follows as well as she can, lips twisting up so a hint of fang is revealed, eyes narrowed slightly, head tilted to the side… Dashing. Handsome. Stunning. 

Gods, I love that face, and it's all mine!

They strike poses, some silly, some serious. A hand here, a foot there, ‘No, no, the leg should go like this!’ before they go in for some really dramatic looks, kneeling down in a crouch as if they're sneaking their way through the room silently, bumping into each other and collapsing into a tangle  of limbs as they laugh. 

They kiss briefly and Hircine doesn't immediately pull away in disgust, thank the gods.

“Thank you for indulging me, pet.” Astarion says as he tucks some of the wispy curls behind her beautifully pointed ears, propping himself up over her large body.

“Anything for you, Husband.” Hircine smiles, fangs and all.

He's ready to go in for another kiss when a new, very strange feeling encroaches onto his happy high. A slight pressure, a need to get rid of something. “Hircine, I feel weird.”

“Weird how?” 

They both sit up, Astarion now straddling Hircine's lap. “I don't know… It's here,” his hand slides over his stomach, “I think or maybe lower.” 

Her mouth opens, then closes, and opens again before her tongue runs over a fang. “Uhm. I think you have to use the restroom…”

Cold dread coils within Astarion’s gut. “Fuck.”