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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years

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Repeat (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Teen Warnings: Injury, minor character death Characters: Shachi

There was something not quite right about their current island. Law seemed slightly uneasy, and Shachi himself could feel something in the air that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. If asked (as Law did), he couldn't explain what, exactly was wrong, but there was something off, and none of them liked it.

Still, they needed supplies, and an off feeling wasn't enough to justify potentially running on empty until they reached the next island. Someone had to go, and Shachi was already on his way to get ready for yet another incognito run (he had done far more incognito than in uniform, and while he liked being in uniform better, the idea of secrecy had long since ingrained itself in his mind) when Law had stopped him.

"Not this time, Shachi," he said. "I want you here today."

Shachi was well versed in reading what Law wasn't saying. There was a flash in there of the early days, when Law was trying to get him, Penguin and Bepo to understand something. This time, it was back but not aimed at him. Instead, Law seemed to have another target in mind, and he trailed behind his captain as Uni and Clione were selected.

It wasn't Uni's first incognito supply run. Shachi had done one with him before, and knew the taller man got easily stressed under the pressure. Adding in the newer recruit to the mix would be interesting, that was for sure. Shachi privately thought that Uni was going to get more stressed, but if Law wanted to try that experiment, then he'd stay quiet.

If only the bad feeling would go away. Uni and Clione both knew to get in, stock up what they needed, and then leave again, but Shachi wasn't going to be happy until they were back in the safety of the Tang. From the way Law and Penguin were fidgeting, he wasn't the only one, and wished that he'd been sent out. He knew how to handle those situations, where the world felt like it was conspiring against them, although he understood why Law had sent a different pair for once. They needed more people that could cope under pressure, and while the island had them tense, it wasn't openly dangerous.

Realistically, it was a good balance of urgency without danger, which made it perfect for learning. As he watched them go, he tossed the den den mushi he'd pick pocketed from Uni up and down in the palm of his hand. Law's idea – and not necessarily one he agreed with, having been sent out to shore many times without one himself and acutely aware of how much of a crutch it could be.

"You can't baby them," Penguin pointed out, and Shachi looked up at him with a sigh. Behind the older man, Law was watching him too, and he suddenly felt as though he, too, was being tested.

"I'm not," he protested, but his denial appeared to fall on deaf ears as his nakama dispersed to their stations. Moving the Polar Tang further away was another decision Shachi did not agree with, although there were enough pirate ships in the docks that he could see the logic. He just wished they'd done it before setting Uni and Clione on shore.

The feeling of wrong didn't go away, and he stayed on the deck, looking out towards the direction of the town. Despite his paranoia, he didn't leave the ship. No orders from Law, and no physical reason to do so left him trapped on the deck. It could just have been because he was used to being the one out there, doing the dangerous tasks. Maybe he was starting to panic because of the unknown, because it wasn't him facing danger, but rather his relatively inexperienced nakama. Still, for as long as there was no proof, he had to deal with it.

The screams were faint when they started, and it was only by straining his ears that Shachi made out the unmistakable sound of gunfire, at which point he couldn't stay still any longer.

"I'm going," he said, already halfway down the gangplank by the time Law caught up with him, face twisted in concern. Penguin was below deck, in the engine room, and Shachi hoped he stayed there. His blood was freezing in his veins at the sound, and the idea that two of his nakama were out there, in the carnage…

"Go," Law said, tossing a den den mushi his way. It was the one he'd picked from Uni's pocket earlier. Shachi didn't need to be told twice, barrelling towards the unfolding nightmare and blinking tears back. This wasn't the same as Swallow Island. His nakama were armed, could defend themselves. No-one was dying today.

It grew harder to remember as he battled through the stream of fleeing civilians, ducking for cover as bullets rained down in bursts and searching desperately for Uni and Clione in the chaos. Every woman's scream sounded like his mother shrieking his name, every man's cry sounded like his father's defiant roar, and he tightened his grip on the hilt of his knife, willing the memories to go away.

It wasn't the same. It wasn't the same.

A familiar presence finally prickled at the edge of his consciousness, a panicked flare he knew was Uni, and he changed course abruptly, making a beeline for him. He couldn't feel Clione, and combined with Uni's panic…

No, they must have just been separated, he tried to convince himself. Uni was panicking because they'd been split up in the chaos, and Clione was just out of range. It was fine. They were fine.

The Marines were there. Someone had called them, or they'd noticed of their free will. It didn't matter how. They were there. Shachi crushed the resentment as it attempted to well up. Of course this small trading town would have Marines at its beck and call whenever something happened. Of course this place was more important than a small backwater island almost always covered in snow and minimal trade to speak of.

Clione's presence finally registered, faint but in the same place as Uni, and the panic welled up anew. Shachi knew the feeling of life slowly yet steadily trickling out of a person, and that was unmistakably the sensation he felt from Clione.

Shachi had lost enough to pirate raids. He wasn't losing another.

There was a Marine with his nakama, he saw as he rounded the final corner to see what his haki had been telling him all along. Another Marine was bleeding sluggishly from his throat, not far from Clione's unmoving body, and Uni was tugging his knife back, turning to face the still alive Marine.

He wouldn't be fast enough. Uni was determined, but the Marine already had a den den mushi out. If he was allowed to make that call…

Uni wasn't fast enough, but Shachi was. His muscles would be feeling the strain later, always hating it when he accelerated beyond the normal limits of the body, but Clione wasn't moving, Uni was panicking, and maybe Shachi was panicking too (there was no maybe about it), but he couldn't lose his nakama. Not like this.

The Marine made a sickening gurgle as he dropped, but Shachi had no time for him, stepping over the body and catching his first good look at Clione. Hurried stitches held together a wound in the right of his chest – not the left, and he wanted to cry at the luck, because they'd come so close to losing a nakama and they wouldn't have known until too late – and Shachi entered autopilot mode. He knew he called Law, Penguin in the background, but he didn't know what he was saying. Uni was looking at him with something an awful lot like respect, but Shachi didn't deserve that.

Not now, when he was falling apart as the past threatened to overlap the present. Not when he was spewing nonsense that was supposed to sound confident, just to comfort Uni. It rang hollow to his own ears, some nonsense about the Marines saving Clione because Uni hadn't driven them away.

He didn't remember getting back to the Tang, either. One minute there was land, and then there was the wooden decking beneath his feet. Law must have taken Clione, and there was Penguin with an arm around a shaking Uni. If anyone said anything to him, he didn't hear them. Everything was just white noise, broken up only by the echoing sounds of gunshots and screams.

It was different this time, he told himself as he ended up face-down in Penguin's bunk, his shades pressing uncomfortably into this face. They're alive. They'll be okay.

He was still shaking when Penguin found him.

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #heart pirates #tales from the heart #tsari writes fanfiction #shachi

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theficplug · 4 years

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{My Boyfriend Does My Makeup with Trevante}

{The YouTube Series}

Warnings: none , fluff

Trevante finally had some time off after his latest film had wrapped and although you were both private about your relationship. You decided to give your boos (your viewers) something special for 307k.

"Welcome to or back to my channel my boos. I have a special guest today. Everybody say hello to my boo bear. Who agreed to do the My Boyfriend Does My Makeup Challenge with me. Say hey baby." You say to him as he flashes his pearly whites at the camera and you can already tell you're going to have to filter the thirst comments.

"Hey , I'm uh Trevante y'all probably have seen me in a few things. If I seem like that familiar face that you can't put a name to. That's why. Also looking forward to playing some characters that don't die halfways through." He says jokingly at the end before giving a shy awkward little nod to the camera.

You take his hand in yours and nuzzle closer into his side to get him to relax a little.

"What I think a lot of people don't know is that even though he's always in front of the camera. He's also kinda shy and doesn't like a lot of attention on him, but unfortunately for you baby is that BOI WE FINNA BE ON YOUR ASS IF YOU MESS IT UP." You say jokingly as you set out all of the makeup and a little cheat sheet to tell him where everything goes.

You watch him break into a smile and throw his hands up.

"Ye of little faith. That hurts bae." He says pretending to be hurt with his hand over his heart dramatically.

"I'm only joking. I believe in you. Gimme kiss?" you ask before he pokes his lips out for you to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"Alright , I'm ready. Today we're gonna use the Fenty foundation? We're just gonna take Miss Riri's stuff and rub it in, all over the face. You don't really need a sponge or brush or any of that. That's all to get you to spend more money." He says to the camera as if he knows what he's doing.

You try to hold in your laughter while looking at the camera and shaking your head.

"You're doing good Tre. I feel prettier already. What's the next step?" You ask him as you watch him work. His tongue slightly poking out as he's concentrated on getting your face to look "right".

Sometimes you just get caught up in how beautiful and kind he is. He always takes care of you and tries his hardest to be involved in anything you're interested in.

"I feel you eyeing me while I work and lemme just say it's highly distracting ma'am. I'm a professional." He says jokingly before giving you a quick kiss. You tug at his bottom lip before kissing him again.

"SHE GETTING DEMONETIZED Y'ALL. We gotta keep it pg." He says before working his way down the little cheat sheet you've left him.

"If you poke me in my eye. I'm swinging." You say to Trevante as he grips your chin gently while trying to apply eyeliner.

"Y'all see how she be treating me? Gon beat my ass in front of all of y'all like that. Lemme stop before that's all over Twitter. Shhh, stop fidgeting let me get it right. " He says and you can feel the felt tip going past where the little flick needed to stop.

"How do I look baby?" You ask as you batting your eyelashes at him and watch his face scrunch slightly at messing it up.

"Hollup it's whopped on that side. Give me a wipe from over there please. . . You said earlier that you wanted to ask me some questions." Tre says to you not bopping along to the soft music playing in the background.

"If you could not love me in this way anymore. Do you think you could love me in a different way? Because you know how when some people break-up. It's so traumatic for them that they can't bare being around the person that they were with because the love there is different." You ask the heavy hitting question that came from an insta sticker. This man was actually a giant teddy bear and pouting at your question.

"For the record I ain't going nowhere. This man put a ring on it." You say giggling and waiting for his response.

"I love you in all ways , always. You know that. But, I'm tryna think about what you're asking. You're saying if weren't together no more. Could I still love you? Absolutely, we were friends before even getting together. When we met in the makeup trailer. I knew that you were going to be important in my life. And that I was gonna love you in some way. But I am grateful that I get to love you this way. I get to love you romantically , emotionally, spiritually, and (cover your ears kids) physically. I'm in love with you." He says before giving the camera a wink and blowing a kiss at them.

Your jaw drops slightly at his response. You could not be more in love with this man if you tried. You thought to yourself before leaning in to kiss his nose and then all over his face and finally his lips.

"Damn, I mean I think I like you or whatever." You say to his as he smacks his teeth and shakes his head while laughing at your response.

"I'm in love with you too Nemour. I only had 3 questions picked out. So here's my second one. When is the wedding? Someone on Instagram asked." You say to him as he nods

"We have a date and it's in my fiancee's favorite season and that's about all I can tell you on that. But I'm sure when it's all said and done she'll put a cute little video package together for y'all." He says as he applies highlighter to your nose and you look at him before bursting into laughter.

"Of course. I promise my boos will be included into the wedding somehow, but Y'ALL lemme bring the camera in please look at how this man got my nose looking like a Christmas ornament. We're going on a lil date right after this. I'm finna be looking shhmmooking hot." You say sarcastically and he couldn't even stay pressed as he breaks out into laughter with you.

"Okay so you're on the last part of my routine which is lips. So before you start I'll ask one last question from Twitter. It says what was our first impression of each other." You smile at the question remembering exactly what he was wearing and everything.

"Well I met you while working on the set of Predator. I was like damn okay lil chocolate drop. Can I get your number? No, but really I thought you were beautiful and funny and just like full of light. There were some early morning call times where I was just grumpy as hell and had to wake up at like 4am and have to hang off fake plane for who knows how long. But there you were in the trailer already dancing around to this one throwback song and giving everybody positive morning affirmations.

Just getting shit done too. I was just standing there watching you in your element. Your lil fro bouncing side to side as you swayed around getting all of your supplies together. And I remembered you ordered everybody breakfast with like Uber Eats or something. Your energy had me hooked from the start. I think I'm more of a morning person now because of you." He says as he picks out the lipstick color.

"You never told me that! That's so sweet boo bear. I was just trying to make everybody feel better 'cause those were some long ass hours. Trying to add all the lil scars and makeup and everything so early in the morning was a lot. But I got to spend more time with you so I wasn't complaining. My first impression of you hmmm. I think I was shocked at how beautiful you are! Wait , wait lemme explain. I've seen you before on that one Tyler Perry show as Ramsey before you got killed off. And just like when I found out you were going to be in that film. I was nervous as hell. And when you walked into the trailer with your beanie almost over your eyes and your headphones on like you were too cool for school. I knew I had to play it cool. I just like sauntered over to you and offered you a breakfast plate. It worked though. Cause you was grooving to Brandy too. After that I realized how you have the driest humor, and yet you are the funniest person I know. I mean like dad joke central with him. He be slapping his knee and everything y'all. But he could've been a whole comedian." You say to the camera and he waits for you to finish before he starts applying the deep plum shade of lipstick.

"My humor may be dry but you still be doing the scatter run when I do the Norbit voice." He says laugh softly at you already about to start wheezing.

"Done?" You ask him as he sits back admiring his work.

"I don't think I did too bad. Look" he says handing you the mirror as you look closely

"My lashes barely hanging on and my eyeliner doing the Cha Cha Slide but other than that I think it looks good. You did a good job baby." You say giving him a kiss as he smirks into it. Already getting the big head.

"I'm coming for your brand baby. Multi-talented." He says to the camera.

"Alright and with that I'mma end this video before his head gets even more inflated. I seen some juicer questions earlier but y'all there ain't no tea. We sexy but our own type of sexy. I gotta show y'all the photos from Halloween when we dressed as Marcus Burnett and Mike Lowry from Bad Boys... We're that couple." You say chuckling softly.

"Alright my boos, y'all know what to do. Like , comment , and subscribe if you want. Turn on the notification bell so you can know when your faves fave post again. Who knows I might get him to do the No Hands Kissing Challenge for 400k. And an OnlyFans video for 1 million." You say half jokingly as it flies over his head for a moment before the lightbulb goes off.

"I don't know about all that maybe 5 milli. Alright y'all , be kinder to yourselves and stay blessed. Byyyeeeee" He says in your voice as he does your outro and you couldn't wait to just wrap your arms around him and love on him.

#Trevante Rhodes #Trevante Rhodes smut #Trevante Rhodes fic #Trevante Rhodes imagine

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crashdevlin · 5 years

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New Romantics-6: Longing and Loss

New Romantics Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is a multi-chapter sequel to Wildest Dreams

Summary: Y/n is using her powers for good... isn’t she?

Pairing(s): Dean x Reader, Crowley x Reader, Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4383

Story Warnings: Smut, 18+ HERE BE SEX, DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!, anal sex, oral sex (fem and male receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, bloodplay, canon-appropriate character deaths, manipulation, BoyKing!Sam and Intended Queen!Reader!

Chapter Warnings: Blood Drinking, unprotected vaginal sex, possessive!Sam

The phone ringing wakes me. It's a persistent buzz against the hard wood of the hotel bedside table. “Don't answer it,” my bed mate says, low voice a deeper rumble from sleep. I didn't know demons could sleep before I started sharing a bed with one.

I raise the phone enough to see the name on the screen. “Gotta. S'Dean” I mumble, as the phone zooms to my hand and the call connects before I've even touched it. I've been expecting this call. It's April. His year's almost up. One last hurrah. “Hey.”

“I wake you?”

I sit up and run my hand across my face. “Don't know what timezone you're in, Winchester, but it's 4:30 in the morning here in Cheyenne.” Shit. Shouldn't have called. comes through to my mind, clear as a bell. “I don't mind, though. I got a few good hours. What's up?”

“I…” Wanna see you before I go to Hell. Just one more time. “Thought we could have that last hurrah. Haven't seen you since Elizabethville. Even went by your place a couple times, but you were never in.”

“I've been keeping busy. Stop too long and it all hits hard. Uh… where are you? Wanna meet somewhere? And… where's Sam?”

“We actually just finished a thing in Pueblo. Sam's looking into last-ditch efforts. Told him I needed a few days, so he's gonna hole up with his laptop and try to find an out that he somehow missed for the last year. Wanna meet halfway? Denver?”

I shoot Crowley a look but he just turns over and grabs a glass of scotch from his side table. “Yeah. I can do that. Biggersons off the interstate?”

“Sounds good. Meet'cha there, Boots.”

I hang up and pull the blanket back, moving for my clothes. “He's doing the rounds, sayin’ ‘Goodbye’?” Crowley asks. I nod. “And, knowing yer not the only one on the tour, you still wanna go?”

“Where's my leg to stand on, Crowley?” I gesture at him. “I have literally been sleeping with the enemy. I should be upset that he's got another bendy bitch he thinks of fondly? Please.”

“And the thief? He wanted her, too. And a hundred other-”

“I have no claim to him. None of it matters. He's dead in two weeks. I can't save him any more than Sam can. But I can make him feel good before the lights go out.”

I dress quickly and check my hair in the ornate mirror by the door before I leave. Crowley likes five star hotels and ancient scotch. He likes Armani suits and shoes made of Italian leather. He's started taking care of every little thing for me and while a big part of me resents it because I'm a grown ass woman and a hunter who doesn't need a demon to take care of me… the other part enjoys sleeping on Egyptian cotton sheets with 1000 thread count, and never worrying about going hungry just because I haven't had any luck hustling lately.

The doorman glares at me on my way out of the hotel and the valet seems to really hate my car, but what can I say? Still a hunter. Demon-fucker, blood-drinker, telepathic and telekinetic, but still a fucking hunter.

I make it to the restaurant in a little over an hour. Dean’s already waiting for me and I notice him before he notices me. He’s tired and scared. He’s clinging to the thought that there’s no way out if he wants to keep Sam alive. I approach with a smile and slide into the booth across from him. He plasters a fake smile on his lips. “Kinky Boots! Lookin’ damn fine for not even sunrise!”

“Wish I could say the same, Winchester, but you look like crap. When’s the last time you slept?” He shrugs. “Nightmares?”

“Well, I got a major league demon holdin’ my contract, one with a big chip on her shoulder about my brother, so she ain’t backin’ down on it. Unless we can figure out a way to put down Lilith in the next two weeks, I’m done, so… sleep doesn’t come easy.”

“Lilith.” I blink at him and lick my lips. “Your contract is held by… Lilith?”

“Yeah. This chick I know went down the same way as me said that, uh, Lilith holds all the contracts.”

“But that would mean she runs the crossroads.” Crowley runs the crossroads.

“I guess so.”

A pit hits my stomach. Of course Crowley’s been lying to me. He’s a fucking demon. Why does it hurt? I force a smile to hide the betrayal I’m feeling. “So… what can I do for you, Dean? Last hurrah, how do you want it?”

I get a flash of a candlelit motel room, soft rhythm and blues playing in the background as he takes his time with me, savoring every inch of my body. There's champagne on the side table for just a second before his mind changes it to a bottle of cheap fruity white zinfandel. Even in his fantasy, he can't go that Nicholas Sparks.

“I'm a simple man with simple tastes. I'm thinkin’ motel room, shades drawn, classic rock on the radio, bottle of whiskey, only leaving the bed for food and water for a few days.” It’s kinda sad that he won’t let himself be soft.

“Well, then we better get some food in us… and some to take with us,” I say with a smile.

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

“No more. I can’t…. Need a break,” I breathe out. We've been going for hours, at this point. I've cum three times to his once, but it's just overstimulation by now.

He climbs up my body and smirks down at me. “See, this is what happens when you stop doin’ your yoga. You lose your stamina.”

I don't argue that my stamina is fine, that I'm overworked from the way Crowley took me last night, that if I can keep up with a demon then I can definitely keep up with him… I simply pull his head down and lick into his mouth.

“Ah, I should probably call Sammy, anyway, let him know the Hounds haven't gotten me yet.” Twelve missed calls, at least. He's gotta be losing his mind. “I’m, uh… not gonna tell him who I’m with. Just… I mean, I don’t wanna…”

“I get it. I’ll be quiet. Actually, I’ll take this as an opportunity to hit the bathroom.” I kiss him again and roll off the bed. Dean slaps my ass as I walk away.

“Hey, Sam.”

Through the filter of Dean's mind, I hear Sam's words. “Where the hell are you, Dean? I take a fucking nap and wake up to a note and you don't answer the fucking phone for four hours?”

“Man, I told you. I just needed to have a little fun! It's not even the final countdown. I wanted to have a night without you giving me sad puppy eyes, okay? I think I have earned that.”

“Dean, we have two weeks to figure out how to find Lilith and get her to drop your contract.”

“She's not gonna do that, Sam! We have absolutely no way to find her, let alone force her to give up my freaking soul. Let me have this one thing and then I'll come back and we can go back on soul patrol, all right?”

There was a long moment of silence, then a sigh. “Yeah, okay. Don’t be gone too long, man. I’m gonna call Bobby, see if he’s got anything.”

“Yeah, all right. I’ll call ya when I get out of here.” I walk back out of the bathroom and jump on the bed, wrapping my arms around Dean. He looks into my eyes and smiles. For a moment, there’s no fear in him. It doesn’t last, of course. The man’s going to Hell, and he’s terrified, but for a moment he’s lost in my eyes and it’s amazing.

His hand buries in my hair and he pulls me into a kiss. His tongue doesn't taste like whiskey anymore, just his unique Dean flavor. He's not drunk. He's just vulnerable. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine. “When I go, I need you to take care of Sam. You and Bobby, he's gonna need you or he's gonna lose it.”

“I-”

“Lilith is gonna be after him. She's probably after you, too, since you were on Azazel's short list, too. I just need you to watch his back. If you gotta do that from his bed, more power to the power couple.”

I scoff and pull away, bringing my knees up to my chest. “Did you call me here for this? To fuck me, then chase me off to be with Sam?”

Confusion fills him as he debates whether or not that’s what he’s trying to do. “That’s not what I meant. Sometimes, I wish you still had your powers, ‘cause you could hear what I-”

I shake my head. “I don’t think you know what you meant, Winchester.” He agrees. He doesn’t know what he wants. He doesn’t want me with Sam, wants me to have something real, but he doesn’t want either of us to be alone once he goes to Hell. “Maybe I should leave.”

“No, don’t go. I’m sorry. Don’t leave.” He sighs. His eyebrows come together as he pushes his hand into my hair. “Whatever happened with your salesman?”

“I told you it wasn’t anything real, Dean.”

He licks his lips. “Sorry. You should definitely have something real.”

“Like I could have with Sam?” I guess. He nods. I shake my head. “No. Much as I enjoy your brother...Things with my salesman are more real than what I have with Sam. At least he doesn’t think I belong with him because the Yellow-eyed Demon said so.” I scoff. “Azazel would probably hate my salesman.” I don’t know why I like calling him ‘my salesman’ so much, but it feels right. He definitely sold me on a bunch of things I never would’ve considered a year ago.

“Look, promise me that you will, at least, keep tabs on Sam. Try to keep him from going too far off the rails?” Please. If Sam gets himself killed then this was all fucking pointless. “I just… the whole point of this is to keep Sam alive.”

Dean Winchester tends to say what's on his mind when it comes to me and I like that. I like that he doesn't know that I'm still in his head so he doesn't try to keep shit inside. Dean is one of the most uniquely honest liars I've ever met. He lies to himself a lot, but he tries not to lie to me.

I nod. “Yeah, okay. I'll try.”

“Thank you.” He pulls me into another kiss and I melt into it, letting him lay me down and cover my body with his own. I let him take comfort in me one last time.

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

I take a hunt in California, then I head home. By the time I make it back to Keystone, it’s the morning of May 4. Crowley’s waiting for me, leaning against my porch with his hands in his pockets. My nonchalant demon salesman. I get out of my car and lean against the hood, ignoring the heat from the engine. “He make it downstairs?”

“‘Bout thirty hours ago… been months already for ‘im.”

“I forgot. Time’s wonky down there, isn’t it?”

“Hell’s designed to fuck with your head… and body, and soul. I wasn’t there for more than a year before I was a demon, pet. That’s quite a lot longer down there, but…” He shrugs and starts toward me. “Have you broken that trap, yet?”

I shake my head. “I like having a place where you won’t go.” He grabs my hips and pulls me away from my car. This is where he snaps my jeans off and fucks me… usually. I slap his hands away. “We need to talk about Lilith.”

Crowley rolls his eyes at me. “Are you sure you want to talk about Lilith? It’s been weeks since you’ve seen me. I thought you might need a top-up.”

“I’ve been rationing. I’ve still got a fourth of a bottle left,” I say, smugly. “Lilith. Spill.”

“What? What do you want to know?”

“Lilith holds all crossroad contracts. I thought you were King of the Crossroads.”

“I am… but everyone has a boss.”

“And Lilith’s your boss.”

“Yes, and no. Tol’ you she took over after Azazel went. She sits on the throne, so it’s her name on the scrolls. That’s it. I’m in charge of the Crossroads,” he insists.

I lick my lips, search his eyes, finally sigh. Even if he’s lying, I can’t tell. Even if he’s lying, what could I do about it? I need his blood. That quarter of a vial of blood isn’t gonna last very long. He can see my resistance fade. I can see it in his smile as he steps closer and grabs my hips. I’ve gotten used to the sulfur taste in his mouth, I like to chase it around with my tongue.

He pushes me back against my hood. It’s still burning hot, but all I can focus on is his hands pushing my shirt up over my breasts, his hard cock rutting against my thigh. He quickly pulls my bra down and starts licking and biting my nipple. I lean back to give him better access, using my powers to pop the button of his suit pants and pull the zipper down. He pulls back, pops the button on my jeans and pulls them and my underwear down my legs.

I turn quickly and set my hands on the hot metal hood. Crowley slips a hand down my ass and slips two fingers inside of me. “Oh, fuck.”

“Are you always this wet? Because every time I touch you, you are.”

I drop my head to the backs of my hands and moan in response as he fucks those fingers in and out of me. He pulls them away and immediately replaces them with the head of his cock. That beautiful, huge fucking cock. Honestly, if I didn’t know that the man he wears used to be a literary agent, I’d swear he must’ve been a porn star because that cock… That cock is amazing. “Foot on the bumper,” he instructs and I obey. Dear God, I don’t even consider not doing what he says.

He slides in, one hand on my hip, the other grabbing my shoulder to hold me in place. It’s moments like this, when he’s fucking me over the hood of my car and my moans are echoing through the trees surrounding my house, that I consider breaking the Devil’s Trap under my house. I want him to take me in my bed, where I’m comfortable, but I can’t let him.

I have to have that space. That space untainted by demons and blood. Hell, I don’t even drink his blood in the house. I leave it in the car. That house, it’s got memories of Sam, of Dean and John. It’s got memories of the years I was normal. I can’t let Crowley corrupt that when he’s already corrupted me.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I moan as he picks up his speed.

“Louder!”

My pussy clenches hard at his demand, and I start moaning louder. It’s fucking early in the day to be screaming, but it’s not like I have neighbors to worry about. “Please, Crowley! Please, fuck, please! Please, harder. God, I need it.” His grip on me tightens and he hammers into me harder, his cock hitting my cervix over and over. I scream, slapping the hood and shuddering as my muscles tighten and flutter around him. He fucks me through it, pulsing as he hits his own orgasm and fills me up.

He pulls away from me and snaps his fingers and we’re both dressed. I turn to him and lick my lips. “So, uh… I still have some left, but-”

“Of course, darling.” He produces another small glass bottle full of his blood and presents it to me. I take it and immediately shove it in my pocket. “Til next time.”

“Yeah.” I nod and head toward my place. He’s gone by the time I get to the door.

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

I hear the engine rumbling down the dirt road to my house at a little before 5pm. That loud 502 big block is unmistakable. It used to be that sound would denote Dean’s arrival, but I know it’s Sam behind the wheel tonight. I open the front door as Sam slams the driver’s door and stumbles toward the porch. He’s drunk, I can smell the whiskey. I rush to his side, trying to help him stay upright. I can’t believe he was driving like this.

“Sam!”

“He’s dead. Dean’s dead. I couldn’t save him.”

“So, that's reason to drink yourself to death?” I snap, trying to wrap him around me and get him into my place. He stumbles on the stairs, dropping away from me, his large body hurtling toward the wood of the porch, face-first. I put my hands out on instinct to stop him, but not with my muscles because I know I can lift that two-forty body without help. I use my powers without a thought and he’s left floating two inches over the porch.

He slowly sets his palms against the wood, drops his knees and turns his head to look at me. His eyes are wide and I can see that adrenaline has burned some of the liquor out of his blood. For the moment, he’s lucid, and he knows. I drop him and he turns his whole body, sits on the steps and looks up at me. “You still have your powers?”

I shake my head. “I got them back,” I whisper.

“You got… you got them back? When? How?”

I swallow and lick my lips. “Uh… the day I disappeared in Lincoln.”

“This whole year? You… why didn’t you say anything?”

I take a deep breath. “Because I’ve been… This is really a conversation for us to have when you’re sober.”

“I’m sober enough,” he growls, standing and using his height to try to intimidate me. “Fuckin’ tell me. Tell me how you got the powers back.”

I look up into his eyes and steel myself. “How’d we get ‘em the first time?” He blinks a few times, then his eyebrows pull down tightly. I reach into my pocket and pull out the little glass bottle.

He snatches the bottle from my hand and raises it to his eyes. “Is this-?”

“Yeah. It’s… it isn’t Azazel’s so it doesn’t work quite the way it should… I have to keep drinking it or the powers fade. I’ve been trying to cut back. I… I don’t like relying on… him. I mean, it, the demon.”

“You… you’ve been drinking demon blood?”

I grab the bottle back and shove it into my pocket. “Yes.”

“For a year? Who’s been giving it to you?”

“Just this crossroads demon I know. He… wants to help.”

“Yeah. Ruby says that, too. But she couldn't help me save Dean.”

“Dean was going down, Sam. There was no stopping it. We all tried.”

“Did you? Because while me and Bobby were trying to keep him from being taken, you weren’t around much!”

I turn a glare on him. “Yeah, what did you expect me to do, Sam? Stick around and be the rope in your little game of Tug-of-War? I heard your thoughts in Lincoln, Sam, and in Elizabethville. You think I’m yours, but Dean’s the one that actually wanted me for something more than my body. He wanted me to have something real. I heard his thoughts, too.” I roll my eyes. “I tried. If I could have kept him from going to Hell, I would have.”

“You think I only want you for your-”

“I’ve heard your thoughts, Sam!” I exclaim. “It’s all ‘Mine’ this and ‘Don’t touch her’ that. You haven’t had those complimentary thoughts since before that night in Lincoln. It’s all possessiveness and-”

“You’re supposed to be mine.”

“Just because Azazel wanted me to be your queen and right-hand woman doesn’t mean-”

“Yes, it does!” His hand shoots out and grabs my hair, pulling me closer. He’s breathing hard, his breath smells like whiskey, and his mind has that swimmy feeling of drunkness coming back, and maybe I’m getting a contact high from his mind, because the way he’s looking at me makes me feel swimmy, too. “You are mine. Not Dean’s. Not your traveling salesman and not that fucking demon’s. Understand?”

I open my mouth to respond but he crashes our faces together, biting my lips and licking into my mouth. His free hand grabs at my waist, pulls my shirt up. I whine and pull away. “Not out here, Sam. Inside,” I whisper. I entwine my fingers with his and pull him toward the front door. He stumbles but he doesn’t fall this time. I push him to sit on the couch and he pulls me to straddle his lap.

Mine. There’s no yielding in the thought. No question. He’s resolute.

I nod. Yours. I push the word into his head. It’s been a while since I’ve done it and I don’t know if it works, but he seems to get it.

He grabs my head with both of his large hands and pulls me into another harsh kiss. He moves to bite my neck and shoulder and the pain zings through my body, settling into a throbbing between my legs. Tell me about the blood. Tell me what you can do.

I moan as he keeps attacking my skin with his mouth and teeth. “It started w-with the te-telepathy and… fuck, Sam.” He growls into my neck and I whimper. “Um, the-the telekinesis came back quick, too. And then… then the demon started to show me h-how to perform exorcisms with my mind.” He pulls back and looks into my eyes, questioning. “Yeah. It’s… kinda like what Ava was doing with the Acheri in Cold Oak. It’s like controlling them. I can force them out of their vessels and direct them back down to Hell.”

“And the vessel?”

“As long as the demon hasn’t ridden ‘em too hard, they live.”

“So, this crossroads demon has been helping you save people?”

I nod. “He’s… he’s a demon, so he doesn’t do it for free,” I whisper, avoiding his eyes.

Sam’s jaw tightens. Knew you were fucking him. “Not anymore. If it’s really worth it-” he starts, grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him. “-we’ll find another demon to get the blood from.”

“We?”

He slips his hand in my pocket and pulls out the bottle. “Show me,” he says twisting the top off and offering the bottle to me.

I swallow, nervously, and take it from his hand. “I started with one drop.” I dab a drop on my finger and show it to him. “That’s all it took at the beginning. I need a lot more now, but… that first drop, I could hear everything again.” I lick my lips as his eyes focus on my bloodied finger.

“How fast does it work?”

“Few minutes… but the powers, they take work. Just like when Azazel was still around, it takes effort. It takes time,” I answer.

“Do you think we could use this, the powers, to get Lilith?” His mind flashes to Lilith, in Ruby’s vessel, letting in the hound that tore Dean to pieces.

“Yeah. The demon said that eventually they’ll be strong enough to kill demons, but the amount of blood I’d need to drink to get there would be-” He cuts me off by licking my finger into his mouth. He sucks hard on my finger before pulling it from his mouth and grabbing my hips.

I set the bottle on the coffee table and turn back to Sam. It doesn’t take long for his pupils to shrink and his breathing to go hard. I remember this feeling, this very first high. Everything is enhanced, everything is lovely and scary. His fingers tighten around my hips. “This… is…” he starts.

I nod. I know, Sammy.

“We’re gonna need more,” he growls.

“Yeah.” The word is just a breath as he starts to pull at my clothing.

“You’re gonna help me avenge Dean.” He pulls my shirt over my head and drops it to the ground next to the couch. It takes just a few minutes for him to have me folded in half on his lap, my feet on his shoulders and his cock buried in me, thumb rubbing my clit. “You’re gonna teach me how to use those powers… and we’re going to kill Lilith.”

“Yes. Yes.” I’m shaking. He’s barely moving inside of me, just rocking me on his lap, but it feels so good just to be so fucking full of Sam. “We’re gonna kill Lilith.”

“Good girl, y/n.”

He starts bouncing me on his cock and I feel so fucking small with how he’s manhalding me and my eyes roll back in my head. I start rambling out ‘fuck’ and ‘yes’ and ‘oh, god’, but Sam doesn’t say a word. His mind is full of those possessive thoughts. He’s thinking about killing Lilith, yes, but he’s thinking about how I take him so perfectly, how I’m made for him, how we were supposed to be together. He thinks about how he wishes he had met me without Dean and John, how he wishes he didn’t have the memories of watching them fuck me, but eventually comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t matter. John and Dean are dead. I’m his.

I’m yours. I think at him through my moans.

“No more demon dick,” he growls and I nod. “Mine.” He twists and lays me down on the couch, hammering into me like he's gonna win a prize. He cums quickly, the enhanced sensation from the demon blood high overwhelming him. He pulls out and kisses me before looking in my eyes. “When can we start?”

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108 @mogaruke @flamencodiva @team-free-will-you-idjits-67 @pisces-cutie @paintballkid711 @natura1phenomenon @rainbowkisses31 @atc74 @alagalaska @coffee-obsessed-writer @bamby0304 @ilovefanfic86 @sculptorofbeginnings @rainflowermoon @bunnybaby121115 @imperiusimpala

HUNTER TAGS @letsby @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnskinnyballs @deansenwackles @gayspacenerd @thewhiterabbit42 @dolphincliffs @sandlee44 @covered-byroses

GAGA FOR GREEN EYES TAGS @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets

#cassie writes stuff #spn #spn fanfic #sam/reader #dean/reader #crowley/reader #demon blood #boyking!sam #lemon

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opalcosplays · 7 years

Text

Witch OC Progress Entry #2

I’ve been neglecting to do this for so long omg it’s flippin August xD

So I was wrong in the last post. There were fewer things absolutely certain than originally thought. Like the color combo. First it was purple and black and silver. Then it was blue and black and silver. Finally I decided to have red and black and silver.

The Corset

Almost immediately we started casually looking through Amazon for corsets. They are not that cheap. I need one with straps in order to set my cat puppet, Grendel, on my shoulder.

We had even worse luck finding purple corsets once we factored in the need for straps. So I changed my mind to blue. We had an easier time finding blue corsets with straps, but none that I particularly liked.

Finally, after watching a Just Dance video on YouTube (I kid you not), I decided to go with red. The only colors that have stayed in the palette this whole time have been the black and the silver. Luckily for me, we hadn’t bought any fabric for the skirt or any makeup products yet.

Then we made the brilliant decision of making the corset ourselves. I know, great idea. Spend a bunch of money on a specific fabric (assuming we can find one that I like) for a specific style that I want. Then get a sewing machine with none of us having any background in using one. The only sewing I’ve ever done myself has been fixing holes in dog toys. I know, lowkey sad.

But we did it. We bought a sewing machine (and THOSE THINGS ARE NOT CHEAP LET ME TELL YOU), got some practice fabric from the clearance rack, and my dad started practicing using the machine. It came out pretty nice with the practice fabric. My mom half joked that we could put some stuffing in it and make a small pillow.

Then came the task of finding fabric for the corset. According to the Internet, you need brocade fabric or some kind of curtain type fabric to make this stupid corset. As if this wasn’t stressful enough, now we gotta hunt for this special fabric and hope and pray we find some in a nice black and red pattern I like.

We go to Joann’s. Hope is high, chances are alright. Before buying anything, we decide to check and see what Hobby Lobby has. So we go there. Hope is lowered, chances are even lower. We pop by Michael’s. Hope is low, chances are slim to none. We go back to Joann’s.

We look at the pattern we bought a while back to see if it says what fabrics we can use. Lo and behold, cotton is an option!

We book it to the cotton section of the ginormous fabric section. They have some nice red and black fabrics, but I want some more black on it. I turn my head and I see a glorious sight before me. I felt like a spotlight shone from the Heavens and I heard angels sing.

The Halloween fabrics.

This gorgeous fabric was the first to catch my eye. It is wonderful: red roses, black coffins and bats on a gray-black setting. I was almost deadset on this one until I saw another.

HOW COULD I NOT GET THIS MASTERPIECE?! Red roses, cobwebs, black bats, SKULLS WITH MELTING CANDLES ON TOP OF THEM! IT SCREAMS GOTHIC MENACE, EXACTLY WHAT I WANT. EVIL BUT NOT TOO EVIL. DARK AND GORGEOUS (not unlike Elijah from The Originals).

I chose this fabric. This is what my corset will have. We also got the interlining or intertubing or whatever the lining/boning stuff is called. It’s not whalebone, mind you, but good sturdy plastic. We also got some plain black cotton for the inside.

Half of the outside layer is done. I’m not sure how much there is total since my dad is the one sewing it BUT I’M EXCITED.

We’ve also decided to hang little bottles on it as well. This corked bottles are the size of bracelet/necklace charms because that’s what they are. We got them at Hobby Lobby because Hobby Lobby has A LOT of jewelry charms. Inside the bottles will be dust glitter. Think pixie dust. To make the glitter glow, there will be tiny LED lights inside. The bottles will be sewn to the corset with conductive thread. I’m gonna try to explain conductive thread as best as I can, but if that doesn’t work then I suggest trying Google.

Conductive thread is actual thread. You sew it into the fabric and connect it to a battery. When turned on, whatever you want to light up or move will do so, assuming you’ve attached all the right parts and haven’t broken the thread or whatever. It’s like wiring, but it’s thread.

The Skirt

We got this poofy black tutu type thing to add poof to the top since we weren’t sure if using just the fabric we bought at Joann’s would be enough.

Speaking of the skirt fabric...

So when we first decided to make a poofy tulle skirt, we popped by Joann’s and looked through the tulle/netting section of fabric. Reds, blues, blacks, whites. Elsa blue, Belle yellow, I’m noticing all sorts of things that would be useful for other projects. Then we stumble upon a silver tulle. With black crescent moons and stars.

Sadly, I don’t have a picture of it. Even more sad, we can’t find it anymore.

See, we didn’t buy it right then and there like we should’ve because we had no idea how much we’d need. We hadn’t taken my measurements yet. Hell at this point we hadn’t even decided to make the corset yet. So we decided to wait. We went back the next week, and it was gone. It hasn’t returned.

Now we jump forward to picking out fabric for the skirt. This is about a week or two after buying the corset fabric. Black and silver tulle will be easy to find. Red is pretty abundant as well, but I want a specific shade of red. A dark red, but not too dark, but also not too light.

We’re flipping through the bolts of fabric, when this piece jumps out at me.

The red is a bit bright, but other than that it’s the near perfect fabric. Deciding to look for other options in case there’s something else, we keep flipping. We’re almost at the end now. I flip the second-to-last bolt, and this one pops out.

Quite literally. It actually fell and whacked my forehead.

BUT LOOK AT IT. THIS IS IT. THIS IS THE FABRIC I WILL USE. The red is a bit bright, but not as bright as the bats on the other one. This is the perfect shade I was looking for. We didn’t end up buying it for another week or two because it’s about $40 a yard and there were no sales or coupons at the time.

First we bought 2 yards. A couple weeks ago we went back to look for a bright silver tulle (which was easy to find and pretty cheap too) and, after much stress, decided to get another 1-2 yards. We had a coupon, but ended up using it something else because the fabric was already on sale and was excluded from the coupon. Of course.

Last week we went and bought some black elastic to make the skirt. So it goes like this:

The poofy black tutu-skirt goes on first. Then the actual skirt goes on over it. If I swish there are some gaps, but I don’t really swish. There was no sewing. Just tying the fabric around the elastic. I comes about halfway between my ankles and my knees, which is the perfect length because we also got these cute red-and-black striped tights to wear underneath and, combined with the ankle boots I’m wearing, you can still see them.

Makeup

In between the time we spent looking for fabrics for both the corset and skirt and making them, I’ve been practicing makeup looks. First I was deadset on recreating this look with black, red and silver. I went out and got this palette for it. I also got some silver glitter eyeliner too because I WANT GLITTER.

I love this. But after getting the corset, there is so much black in the outfit that I wanted something with more red. So I went looking for red eye makeup looks on YouTube but could not for the life of me find something I wanted.

Then, while I was sick, I stumbled upon this tutorial. I wanted to do this but replace the coppers with red. So I did. It took a couple days of trying, but I finally settled on a combo I like.

And you can’t really tell, but the silver glitter goes into a wing. I love outlining my glitter liner, so I’m thinking about getting red eyeliner and trying something new with that and black liner. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I hope it does. I really want the silver to be obvious, so I guess if it doesn’t work I could try building it up a little higher than it is here. But then I don’t want the silver to hide all the glorious red, so there’s that too.

Do you see my problem lol

Also I’m planning on getting a silver crayon to use instead of the white on the inner corner. If that doesn’t work then I’ll just still to the white.

And LET ME TELL YOU BLACK EYESHADOW IS A PAIN IN THE ASS TO GET OFF OF YOUR LASHLINE LIKE HOLY CRAP

Accessories

When it comes to jewelry, I’ve come a long way. I wanted something gothic and cool but also, obviously, in black and red. TO AMAZON.

And I found this necklace, this bracelet, and this finger claw awesomeness.

I also have this dragon earring/cuff that I got from the renaissance fair back in April. Pain in the ass to get on but still gorgeous.

I should also mention that I’ve given the character an name.

Morgana Alexa Carter.

Go follow my main blog to discover more about her personality. Why? Because that’s where I’m developing her as a person. Here is where I create the costumes. For her this costume is basically what she would use if she would dress up as a witch for Halloween, especially since she is a witch.

So the week of the con I’m headed to the salon to get my hair dyed red. It’s gonna be a nice bright red and I’m SO excited for it. I’ve only had red in my hair one time and that was back in December 2014 when I’d had ONE streak on both sides of my head for Christmas (one green & one red).

On the other hand I’m also kinda nervous because red fades fast and even though I won’t be washing it until the con I’m afraid of it fading too much. Because I’m paranoid like that.

Props

I want a prop for this costume (besides Grendel). Michael’s already has some of their Halloween stuff out. MY PEOPLE ARE RISING.

So we’re looking through the Halloween stuff. I’m seeing fake crows, skulls, cobwebs, etc. Then my eyes land on a stack of fake spellbooks. I want a spellbook.

My dad turns to Pinterest. There he finds a way to make an old leather-bound book, like the one from Hocus Pocus. We got a small and a big wooden book from Michael’s, the kind that looks like a book but is actually a box. The small one will be a practice one. The big one will be untouched until further notice. We also got some big books that no one cares about from Half Price Books to use. We’ll see which one looks better.

Basically it requires mod podge and paper towels. I’m not sure how that’s gonna work, but I trust my dad. That’s also why we bought practice books. We also got some charms from Hobby Lobby to try and put on the book so it looks like they’re inside the cover. We’re also planning on (hopefully) getting an eye like the ones we got for Foxy, as well as a small skeleton hand to act as the clasp of the book.

That’s about it though. I’ll put up pictures of everything I haven’t ASAP. Until then I’ll catch you in the next update. No matter when that is...

#witch oc progress #morgana costume progress #cosplay #witch cosplay #cosplay progress #witch cosplay progress

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get-a-new-lease-on-life · 6 years

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A New Lease on Life - #8

------------------------------------------- 8: What're the Odds? -------------------------------------------

Hey, Folks! All y'all hopeless romantics're probably gonna be full of righteous power-of-love fury after this chapter's over, but I stand behind it: Amber and Donnie JUST MET. Though they hit it off pretty quickly, they're still only close friends—friends who just so happen to check each other out far more than they should. If you're gonna flame, don't flame over the characters having common sense—flame over something that's actually a BAD thing, like Raph and Leo being woefully neglected so far. This chapter dedicated to everyone who can discern the difference between 'love at first sight' and 'instantaneous infatuation.'

Warnings: Excessive foul language, insinuated long-term abuse and brief portrayal of emotional abuse, mild adult themes, major filter failure, and a smidgen of Mikey torture. Donnie may be just a tad OOC at the end...not really sure.. Hey, Folks! All y'all hopeless romantics're probably gonna be full of righteous power-of-love fury after this chapter's over, but I stand behind it: Amber and Donnie JUST MET. Though they hit it off pretty quickly, they're still only close friends—friends who just so happen to check each other out far more than they should. If you're gonna flame, don't flame over the characters having common sense—flame over something that's actually a BAD thing, like Raph and Leo being woefully neglected so far. This chapter dedicated to everyone who can discern the difference between 'love at first sight' and 'instantaneous infatuation.'

Suggested Listening: Breaking Benjamin, "Breakdown" and Taylor Dane "I'll Be Your Shelter"

Daron's Apartment

Quite some time had passed since the blond's outburst, but little had changed. Amber and April huddled on his sagging microfiber couch, nervous eyes following him from one end to the room to the next as he paced. Every step was marked by yet another foul oath and every turn accompanied by another muttered gripe about Kimber. With every word, Amber became ever more certain in her beliefs.

Though he looked similar, the furious man cursing an ever-increasing blue streak was not Aaron Willis, the friend she left behind in her previous life…he was Daron Williams, Kimber Bryant's friend and the man responsible for wiping her existence from the records. With this confirmed, all that now mattered was why.

"S'cuse- me," she asked without warning; he halted suddenly, turning to shoot an annoyed glare at her. "I guess you must be Daron Williams?" Another lemon-sucking scowl twisted his lips and he scoffed.

"Don't give me that, Kim," he snapped. "It's a little late to play the 'amnesia' card."

"I don't have amnesia," she insisted, rising and approaching him, "an' I'm not Kimber. She's…I'm sorry, but she's gone. I'm Amber O'Brien." She held out her hand in greeting, trying to soothe the guilt twisting in her gut; after all, she'd just run into one of Kimber's friends in her body, someone who clearly didn't know Kimber was dead. At her back, April stood and rushed to her side, Taser still at the ready; Daron frowned down at Amber's extended hand as if it were about to bite him. "If you an' Kimber're anythin' like Aaron an' I were, you were prob'ly- best friends…I'm sorry." Daron studied her silently, scrutinizing everything from her expression to her clothing with obvious annoyance.

"I find it hard to believe you'd put so much into your disguise without leaching the dye out'a- your hair, Kimber," he finally stated, completely disregarding her words. "The accent's a little over the top, but it might help out, and at least that tattoo's covered. Still, our agreement was for you to stay the fuck underground until I came after you—I'm still working out your death in Missouri, and it's ridiculously difficult faking death certificates from the early 2000s—most states didn't have those forms online yet, and everything's been hit-and-miss."

He suddenly shoved his hand through his hair and pulled at the loose curls on the top, fear widening his blue eyes. "God, it's a miracle Hun hasn't seen you yet—If he finds out I helped you—" He shot a panicked glare at her. "He'll fucking kill me, Kimber! I'm putting my life on the line yet again and you don't even care enough to—"

Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around him in a supportive embrace; his words remained unfinished. Black cotton-clad breasts filled his vision—the bitter perfume of coffee stung his nose—an aching heart thundered near his ear. No matter how he dissected the situation, he still came to the same conclusion: the woman he'd loved for years had fairly tackled him, pulling him close in a long-overdue hug.

When he finally regained full control of his arms, he pushed her away enough to search her eyes, and what he found there was heartbreaking. Though they were the same shade of mossy grey-green as before, the eyes he saw held sorrow, guilt, pain, and fear; though identical on the surface, those eyes weren't the eyes of the woman he'd loved since childhood. He choked up; he pushed her away and wandered across the room to the stereo system. Amber watched in silence as the machine shuffled noisily, finally landing on a tune she recalled from another life.

I'll never let you know, a haunting voice admitted as Daron struggled to pull himself together. But I love the way you laugh. I wanna hold you high and wash your pain away. I keep your photograph, and although I'll never tell, I wanna hold you high and ease your pain.* As the unfamiliar verses rang out and Daron sank further and further into morose silence, Amber inched toward him; when she reached his side, she gently turned down the volume and caught his eyes.

"For what it's worth," she murmured as Reaver's lead singer droned in the background. "I'm sorry. It's clear she meant everything to you." He tried to force out an unaffected scoff, but it came out as more of a sniffle.

"It's pathetic, really," he rasped. "that comfort would be proof that she's gone. She'd never…she'd have just mouthed off at me, you know, insisted she had everything under control." Pained blue eyes met hers. "You're nothing like her, are you?"

"Far as I can tell," she admitted, "Yeah…we're apples an' oranges; I can't say we'd'a- gotten along even if I weren't stuck in'er- body."

"Not even gonna ask how that happened…weird enough that it did." He led her back over to the sofa, collapsing in the threadbare recliner. "I'm sure you have questions."

Amber hesitated, eyeing him nervously. She gnawed at her lower lip, glancing over at April who was clearly as confused as her. "Why was she hidin' underground, Daron? Why have you been fakin' her death, and why'd you do so much for her when she's clearly been nothin' but a bitch to—"

A sharp glare cut her off. "Don't presume to understand her," he snapped. "You may be stuck in her body, but you don't know shit about her. Kim…she was tryin' to get out'a the Dragons! If Hun hadn't met her, she wouldn't'a joined, and he wouldn't'a met her if I hadn't let her live here for so long." Guilt bloomed in his eyes; he hid them from her, staring out the sauce-spattered window. "That bastard ruined her life…and it's my fault."

"How?" April asked, shaking her head in disbelief. "How's something Hun did your fault?" A sharp glare silenced her.

"None'a your fuckin' business, O'Neil," he spat sounding so much like Aaron it hurt. "I ain't forgotten you're here, ya don't need to verify your existence." Before April could protest, Amber snapped,

"Hey! Leave'er alone—she ain't hurt ya none." Daron met her eyes and wilted, incapable of hiding his pain; though the occupant of the body was foreign, it was still Kimber's body…If he weren't sure he had no heart, it would be breaking. "So she got in over her head, wanted out, an' you swooped in to save the day."

"No saving to it," he bristled sourly. "I just got sick of her whining and did something about it." Amber's lips tilted in a humoring smile; go figure that Daron would be even more of a 'tough guy' than Aaron was. "Seeing as you're hanging out with the likes of her," he grumbled, shooting a glare at April. "I take it those stupid reptiles took you in…guess I owe'em- for once."

"Stupid?" Amber shot back dryly. "I smell sour grapes. Don't tell me Donatello out-hacked you." Sure enough, a dark blush tinted his cheeks and a sour scowl twisted his lips. "Thought so. Fer the record, he tried to help Kimber...an' he's been beating himself up over not gettin' there in time; Purple Dragon or not, she died on his watch an' it's really messin' with him."

That shut him up. Daron stared wistfully through the stereo as a haunting clarinet solo echoed through the speakers, followed by heavy drums and keyboards. ‘Ich liebe dich,’ a deep, guttural voice growled. The lyrics rang through the otherwise silent room and Amber followed along, her memory supplying the translation; she'd always teased Aaron that Rammstein was nothing but 'foul language and banging,' but she enjoyed some of it, including this one. Now, seeing the forlorn young man fight off heartbreak right before her, the song Rumstein had in common with Rammstein had new meaning.

‘The pretty girls are not pretty; the warm hands are so cold. All clocks have stopped. It's no longer healthy to laugh, and soon, I'll look for you behind the light. Where are you? I don't want to be so alone. Where are you?’**

Daron Williams was hopelessly in love with Kimber, and she was gone for good; he needed time to process it. Amber silently squeezed April's arm and glanced pointedly at the door. "We'd best get going," she announced needlessly as Daron retreated further within himself. "We'll be in touch."

"Wait." Halfway to the door, Amber paused, turning to listen. Daron pried himself out of the sunken chair, slouched into the kitchen, and upturned a large metal crock from the counter. He dug through the pile of stale power bars for a moment, surfacing with a thick envelope. Hesitating a moment, he steeled himself, then shoved it at Amber. "Kimber can't use this now…just…" His voice cracked; he paused to collect himself. "Give those worthless reptiles a message for me, will you?" Amber nodded encouragingly, choosing to ignore the slight against her friends for the time being. "Hun must pay—for Kimber, for everything—and I'm in, even if it means teaming up with mutant jerks."

"I'll tell'em," she agreed, hesitantly accepting the envelope. "but I can't promise they'll be willin' to help if you keep insulting'em like that. Get that anger off yer chest, take some time to adjust, an' we'll go from there. April can play go-between, right?" She shot an innocent smile at April, who gaped in disbelief.

"Don't bring me into this!" she protested. "This jerk's keeping me up every night with that devil music!" Amber chuckled dryly, shaking her head at her.

"Devil music?" she echoed with enough sarcasm to curdle milk. "Ya sound like my mother when I discovered Ozzy." Daron glared at April, who squirmed under the force of it.

"If it'll shut you up, I'll move the stereo to the other wall—next time, just come tell me it's too loud."

The Lair

A sudden, loud greeting drew all four brothers and their father to the kitchen where Amber and April were piling groceries on the table. In the frenzy of putting it all away, Daron's message for the guys was temporarily forgotten, and Amber's silence was, for the most part, unnoticed. As April said her goodbyes, the redhead hovered restlessly in the kitchen, contemplating the envelope she'd received from Daron. Its contents were spread out over the worn wooden tabletop in a morbid pile.

Credit cards, a bank account number, birth certificate, driver's license, library card, prepaid bus pass, a key marked with directions to a storage unit… It was baffling, but the proof was right before her in big bold print. In her attempts to disappear entirely, Kimber changed her name, and the name she chose was unbelievable…Kimber Bryant became Amber O'Brien even before Amber found herself trapped in Kimber's vacant body. "What're the odds?" she muttered as her stomach turned sickening cartwheels.

The world had officially become too weird for words; Amber needed a break. Without a second thought, she retrieved one of the tubs of tofu from the fridge, drained it, and set it up to press; as she silently mixed up a small dish of soy sauce and chicken broth and preheated the oven, Mike, Leo, and Donnie drifted into the kitchen. They were used to her acting strangely—she was, after all, an odd duck at the very least—but it was unusual for her to be so silent. Every query was seemingly ignored; every attempt at eye contact was evaded.

By the time the tofu was cubed, brushed with marinade, and baked, Donatello had inspected the paperwork splayed across the table. Surely, he realized as she piled the baked chunks onto a plate and plopped down at the table with it, there was something he was missing. As the brothers watched her warily she popped a chunk of tofu in her mouth, chewed and swallowed, and promptly started bawling like a baby.

"…the heck?" Mikey asked dubiously. "Surely it's not that bad! Ow!" he yelped as Leo delivered a timely brain-duster.

Leo shook his head and latched onto Mikey's carapace. "You got this?" he asked Don, his voice hushed as he steered the youngest out the door. The genius nodded, watching Amber warily. He heaved a sigh and sank onto the stool next to Amber's chair, wrapping an arm around her shoulders; as so often before, she dove into his arms, curling up in his lap and crying into his shoulder.

"What am I gonna do with you?" he murmured, rubbing her back through her shirt as she hiccuped and sniffled pathetically. "What happened, Braids? Talk to me."

"I…" A sniffle cut her off. "It jus' tastes like home…an' home's...home's gone."

"Tofu tastes like home?" he repeated in disbelief; she nodded, finally getting control over herself. Though she was no longer crying, she made no move to leave his lap, and inwardly he prayed for the strength to conceal his body's response. After all, he was a straight, healthy, adult male with a woman in his lap—worse yet, a woman he was pretty attracted to. Torture. Sheer…torture.

"Yeah," she mumbled, swiping her cheeks dry and hoping her nose wasn't running. "Whenever life got too crummy, I…well, I was kinda prone to binge eating. Evr'ythin' jus' went straight to my arse, but I didn't have to feel guilty 'bout tofu; kinda became a comfort food." She stared forlornly at the plate of small brown cubes, longing in her eyes. "April an' I met Daron Williams…I guess it just made me miss Wi - Aaron Willis even more," she admitted softly. Donatello cringed, eyeing the paperwork.

"Daron Williams," he sighed. "We know him alright…have more problems with his brother, though, the guy's a total thug. I take it Daron's responsible for making Kimber disappear?"

She nodded weakly. "He said she wanted out'a the Dragons an' came to him for help. He had all that ready to give her when the coast was clear."

Shock widened Donnie's eyes and he rummaged for the birth certificate; he held it out to her, his brain running miles a minute. "But it has your name on it!" he objected. She nodded grimly, passing him the driver's license; though Kimber's hair was hidden under a black kerchief, it was obviously her photo.

"She changed her name 'fore she went into hidin'…changed it to mine. She takes my name, dies in hiding, an' lo an' behold, I'm sucked into her corpse." She scoffed, chucking the card and certificate back into the pile with a vengeance. "What're the fuckin' odds."

Donatello stared down the pile of documents nervously, silently calculating and questioning. Surely Amber wasn't brought to his world on such slim odds—surely it was more than just Kimber's choice in names that brought her to them, brought her into his life? If that were the case, even the slightest change could have changed the course of their lives—an alteration in the spelling, a switching of the first and middle name—the slightest variation would have left Amber, his Amber, wasting away in Limbo, never to stumble into his life as she had! As his thoughts careened out of control, he unknowingly dug his fingers into her hip and back, holding her as though she'd be ripped from his arms.

"OW!" she yelped, jolting in pain. "Dee, ease up, I'm not goin' anywhere!" Startled back to himself, he abruptly released her. Suddenly not anchored to his lap she tumbled off with a startled squeak; training took over and he dove after her, flipping so his carapace took the brunt of the fall, the impact resonating with a loud, hollow THUNK. Her cheeks darkened in a bright, fetching blush as she took stock of the situation she found herself in. Donnie lay on his back on the tile floor, staring blankly up at the stunned woman sprawled out over his plastron, never realizing he still had hold of her waist. He couldn't believe it, was certain he had to be mistaken, but his lungs were suddenly filled with a familiar musky scent—the same scent he was teased with the whole way from April's the day he brought her home, and never could completely air out of the lab.

'Shite!' Amber cursed inwardly, scrambling for a way to politely extricate herself without hurting his feelings, freaking him out, or making her reaction to the position even more obvious. 'What the flying, floating fuckity-fuck'm I gonna do?! We just farkin' met—he's gonna think I'm a creeper!' With everything she had, she prayed that he couldn't smell her wanting him and that his brothers hadn't retained enough of their reptilian nature to register pheromones. "Umm…" she mumbled avoiding his eyes, sure her cheeks matched her still-dyed hair. "This's awkward. Can I get off?" The moment the words left her lips, her eyes bulged and she sputtered. "ACK!—OF you!" she added frantically. "I mean can I get off of you! I don't mean get off as in GET OFF, just—AHGH," she groaned burying her burning red face in his chest. "I'm just gonna shut up now," she mumbled, mortified beyond belief.

The chest she was hiding in shook with laughter—wheezing, convulsive laughter interspersed with the occasional shnork and shnerk. 'Great,' she thought snidely. 'I broke'im.' She lifted her head and propped her chin on his chest, glaring darkly at him. "What," she grumbled. "We all know my filter's useless, get over it." If anything, he just snorted and wheezed louder. One particularly loud, nasal SHNARK did it—she burst out laughing, clinging to his plastron for support.

"What happened?!" Mikey burst out from the doorway, then promptly froze in horror. Wheezing and weird snorty-gaspy-grunty noises echoed through the kitchen; between the legs of the table, he could make out two bodies shaking on each other on the floor. Worst yet, the kitchen smelled funny—and not a ha-ha kinda funny. The bottom fell out of his stomach. Slowly, hoping they hadn't heard or seen him, he backed out of the room and took off for the bathroom like the Shredder was after him. 'That was fast,' Mikey thought squeamishly as he dove into the nearest cubicle fully clothed and cranked up the cold water, haunted by what he hadn't seen. Only thirteen days in their home and Amber had already hooked his brainy brother, cementing herself as 'sister.' Good thing she wasn't really his type...

Back in the kitchen the two lunatics got themselves together and lay gasping for breath. Clearly, Donatello wasn't as freaked out as Amber worried he'd be...of course, after such an epic filter fail, who wouldn't laugh their asses off? Still chuckling hoarsely, she propped herself up to slide off onto the floor. Before she could even move, a massive three-fingered hand latched onto her hip, anchoring her in place.

Shyly she met his eyes; in the space of a heartbeat, the atmosphere changed. Laughter faded into nervous silence—stitches soothed into butterflies—eyes shone with sincerity rather than amused tears. Amber fought to hold back, fought to calm her racing heart, but it was Donnie—the same Donnie she'd fallen for years before though they'd only just met. Though he barely knew a thing about her, she knew practically everything about him...Not for the first time, she cursed the unfairness of being so attached to someone who couldn't logically return her feelings, at least not for a good long while. Damn dreams...they made everything so awkward.

"Hey," he said with a lopsided smile, tucking a loosened lock of punch red hair behind her ear in a familiar gesture.

Her breath caught in her throat. "Hey, yerself," she replied with a weak smile.

Just like that, the moment was over. He seemed to take a moment to get ahold of himself, then sat up on the tile to let her push off his shoulders. Moments later they were once again seated at the table staring at the plate of tofu, avidly ignoring the elephant in the room. "So," she stated matter-of-factly, snagging another piece of tofu. "If I eat all this, I'm gonna turn into a blimp. Wanna try some? I promise it don't taste like old shoe." He shot her a hairy eyeball stare but popped a piece in his mouth regardless.

"Hey!" he grinned. "That really is good—what's the secret?" She laughed at his giddy expression, feeding him another chunk. It wasn't that great and she knew his family was sure to cook it better, but she appreciated his words nonetheless.

"Hide the flavor," she answered with a cheeky grin. "Otherwise, it does taste like old shoe."

Several minutes later Raph lumbered into the kitchen and over to the fridge; armed with a soda he turned to retreat, only to get an eyeful of Donnie trying to feed Amber a piece of tofu. "Ya two're disgustin', ya know dat?" he grumbled, then stormed out again.

The two friends just laughed at his attitude. As they teased each other, revealed past embarrassing moments, and one-upped each other's stories, they both silently relived the brief moment of connection that had passed, one doubtful the other saw them that way and the other trying to hold back a lifetime of love. Both wondered if their friendship would ever become more. Only time, they admitted to themselves, only time would tell.

Halfway across town in Daron's small flat, his cell phone rang; from the first note of the tone, he knew without a doubt who it was. 'Go fuckin' figure,' he thought, struggling to reign in his temper and terror as he accepted the call. 'Of course, he'd call now…not like enough hasn't happened.' "Hey," he greeted the caller nervously. "What's going on?"

"Where is she, Piss-ant?" Hun growled at him from the other end. "I gave ya a week; ya gonna deliver?" Daron shuddered, curling into a ball in his recliner.

"I - I can't find her, Hun," he lied carefully. "She must'a cut town or something…the name we had's pulling up nothing—must've been an alias or something."

"No excuses!" the musclebound thug bellowed, making Daron practically leap out of his skin. His traitorous heart pounded frantically in his chest, his lungs shuddering and aching as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Fight or flight, neither would help. "Find that bitch! She knows too much an' I'm sick'a waitin! You find Kimber Bryant an' you find'er fast or I'll break every bone in yer scrawny body! Are we clear?!" Daron's stomach roiled. Bile surged up his throat and he choked to keep it down.

"Y-Yes, Sir," he stammered, hoping against hope that he could devise a plan in time to save his hide. "I-I understand…I'll f-find her." A dark laugh on the other line sent his hair standing on end.

"Ya better, Brat…I'm runnin' out'a patience." Without another word he hung up, leaving Daron a shaky, shivering mess as every call before. Kimber was dead, but Hun wouldn't believe it without some sort of proof…physical, corpse-type proof…Daron was running out of options and fast. As he willed his heart rate to calm and his eyes to cease pouring, he cursed his parents anew.

How could such a psychopath be his own flesh and blood?

"Donnie?" a soft voice called from the lab's doorway. Bleary-eyed from sleep, Donatello stretched the crick from his neck and scanned the shadow shrouded room. "Dee, ya'wake- in here?" Like a dream summoned to the waking world, Amber waited in the doorway, a long, silky violet nightgown accenting her soft curves delightfully. He loved that color on her, especially how it set off the fine fiery highlights in her warm brown hair.

"Awake enough," he answered with a shrug and lop-sided grin, beckoning her near as he leaned back in his desk chair. "What's wrong? You have a nightmare?" That bright blush tinted her cheeks as she shyly avoided his eyes, hovering just out of reach.

"Not exactly," she mumbled. "I jus'…well…" She trailed off, finally meeting his eyes. "I can't sleep…not after what happened…didn't want ya thinkin' badly of me." He chuckled warmly as he caught one clenched hand in his own and drew her closer, guiding her to perch on his knee.

"Not even a remote possibility, Amber," he teased as he played with her long brown braid. "If anything, I'm glad you're so comfortable around me—I'd hate to think you felt like you couldn't be yourself when I'm around." Sleepy green eyes dropped to his lips as he spoke, then swept back up again, the smooth grey-green set off by another blush. "You are comfortable around me, right?" A carefree smile curved her lips.

"Oh, Dee," she almost gushed, leaning in to wrap her bare arms around his neck. "Of course, I am! You get me—you understand me—I wish I'd met you before I met Aaron…I wasted so much time waiting for him to love me when you—I mean—" She cut herself off, gnawing her lower lip. "—that is…" She fell silent as he traced a calloused fingertip over her lip, and her breath caught in her throat. The tentative caress left her mouth slack, the chewed lip popping loose again.

"Don't go gnawing that off, now," he teased, his voice husky with want. "I happen to like it." The moment their lips met, fireworks erupted in the shadowy corners of the room. The cramped desk chair fell away leaving them reclining on a soft mattress, Amber eagerly straddling his lap. With every breathless kiss, she uttered another soft, feminine whimper, grinding against his bare thigh. Finally, he drew back, peppering her smooth neck and bare shoulders with open-mouthed caresses. "Amber," he breathed into her collarbone. "I…I know it's sudden, Amber, but I think…I think I'm…falling for you." With a sleepy smile, she reached out to cup his cheek in one small hand, a sudden tease in her eyes.

"That's nice, Donnie," she murmured, "but you still gotta go to bed. That chair's bad on your neck." Everything ground to a halt; he gaped at the tousled minx in his lap.

"Wait, what?" As if on cue, she spoke again, but this time her voice sounded like Mikey's!

"Donnie, you're gonna get a neck-ache if ya don't go to bed—don't make me sic Amber on you—she's actually snoring for once!"

"AH!" Donatello woke with a jolt and strangled shout, his heart racing; as his eyes focused Michelangelo appeared right in front of him, arms crossed and almost pouting. "Mikey?!" he blurted out, fighting to shake off the lingering impression of Mikey's voice coming out of Amber's mouth; the very memory of it made him shudder.

"Geez, you'd think I wasn't doing you a favor," the younger turtle sulked. "I try to save ya a neckache an' this's I thanks I get? So ungrateful, I swear." As Mikey tapped his foot impatiently by the door, Donnie hoisted himself out of his desk chair, wincing at the loud crack emanating from his already stiff neck. Mike shot him a 'told ya so' frown and huffed his way out of the lab.

Despite the sudden bizarre ending and Mikey's odd sullen attitude, the otherwise pleasant dream lingered in Donatello's mind as he padded over to the cot in the corner. Sure enough, Amber was sleeping soundly in it, her lips tilted in a faint smile. Every now and then a soft snort or mumble would break the silence; for once, she'd clearly achieved stage three non-rem sleep; if the pattern continued, she might get an extra hour of uninterrupted rest that night.

Half-remembered impressions of violet silk, fiery brown hair, and wordless whimpered praises teased Donatello as he studied the other-worlder, reminding him that it was far, far too early to be falling for her. He barely knew her, had known her for a mere two weeks, and two weeks was hardly enough time to form a lasting romantic attachment. Despite his brain's insistences, though, he had to admit the idea was attractive to him—almost as attractive as he found Amber herself, even after all the weight she'd lost.

Attraction can take seconds; love can take years. Wasn't it Aristotle who said, "Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies?" Logically, Amber and Kimber were the same soul inhabiting different bodies, but he was sure Aristotle wasn't talking about counterparts. Either way, Donnie mused as he brushed a flyway lock of punch red hair from sleep-crinkled eyes, they weren't there yet. What point was there in rushing? Taking his time, delaying until he knew for sure, it would only sweeten the day he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was the one for him. With a last long glance, he slipped out of the lab.

"Donnie?" Mikey mumbled from the sofa as he ambled by. "Next time you an' Amber do the nasty, can ya please not do it in the kitchen? We eat in there."

His first inclination was to sputter a protest that no such thing had happened; then he recalled all the times the youngest had pelted their friend with barely-veiled flirtation. He smirked as he passed by, stretched lazily, and hummed innocently as he made his way to his room.

"Oh, gross," Mike whined on the couch, clutching the nearest throw pillow like an oversized teddy bear. "I'm gonna have nightmares."

Poor, poor Mikey…if only he knew what he DIDN'T see, he wouldn't be so scarred-for-life by what he DID see! Hope y'all enjoyed! Thanks for everything, all y'all awesome people, and have a great week!

Words (Midwestern Twang unless otherwise noted)

- Prob'ly - Probably - We'd'a - We would have - S'cuse / 'scuse - Excuse, nationwide slang pronunciation. - Ya'wake? - Are you awake?

- Adding 'a to the end of a word - This can have two different meanings, depending on how the rest of the sentence is put together. Sometimes it means 'to,' like tryin'a means 'trying to;' other times, it means 'of,' as in out'a which means 'out of.' Generally you can determine the meaning of the 'a by the preceding word - preceded by a verb usually means 'to' while 'of' can be preceded by a verb OR a non-verb, generally any word you're likely to use 'of' after. - Adding 'er to the end of a word - Means 'her' - Adding 'e, 'is, or 'im to the end of a word - Means he, his, or him. - Adding 'em or 'eir to the end of a word - Means them or their

- "Evr'ythin' jus' went straight to my arse." - Women everywhere know the story behind this one. "Everything just went straight to my ass," basically meaning anytime she ate anything, she gained weight, and most of it was in her backside. - "What the flying, floating fuckity-fuck'm I gonna do?!" - This is a favorite of mine IRL because it's so ridiculous. 'What the flying, floating fuckity-fuck am I going to do?!'

Notes:

*The song this lyric is heavily based on is Seether's "Broken." As with many things so far, the version of the song from the new universe differs from the version we know; in this case, it's not just a few words that have changed but the whole meaning of the song.

**Lyrics taken from English translation of "Wo Bist Du" by Rammstein, from their album Rosenrot. Believe it or not, it's NOT a breakup song—look up the lyrics and you'll see why.

Old shoe: you can thank my hubby Cold for this description; no matter how mouthwatering my tofu turns out, he goes all 'little girl and worms' over it - seriously, ridiculously squeamish - and refuses to eat it, complaining it tastes like "old shoe." Still waiting for an explanation of how he knows what 'old shoe' tastes like...

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