I CAME HOME TO THE PRETTIEST SURPRISE TODAY!! 😭A big thank you to my darling @hazelfoureyes for making me this gif so I can show y’all our favorite old men in all their glory! 🥹💖
I can’t even lie, when I saw NOTHERPUPPET on the label of my package I fully gasped and tore into it IMMEDIATELY and did my very best not to cry (a task I barely succeeded in, but still).
@notherpuppet the boys came out soooo beautifully. Not that you ever miss — it felt blasphemous to type that — but you really fucking killed it with this. They are my pride and joy and I don’t know how I’m supposed to get anything done now or ever again because I can’t stop staring at them… but honestly what’s new?? 🥺💖
Your take on Weyler, wherein Wednesday becomes Tyler's master?
This one got me in its teeth and didn’t let go! AU where Tyler turns down Capri in the graveyard and goes after Wednesday instead - I hope you like it anon!
Ship: Weyler || Rating: T || Words 1.8k ish??
“If you thought you’d catch me sleeping you’re more deranged than I thought,” Wednesday adjusted her grip on the knife, the cold night air cutting through her button-up black pajamas as she stepped out onto the quaint BnB’s balcony, “you make enough noise to wake the dead.”
She had been lying in uneasy slumber when the first sounds came, a rustling in the surrounding forest that could have been mistaken for an animal. The muffled thumps and curses that followed that could not.
She was up before he’d swung himself over the railing, glass-panelled door open wide as she emerged - armed and ready.
“Wednesday.”
One glance at the creature explained the uncharacteristically unsurreptitious nature of his arrival - her would be nemesis looked down right pathetic.
Tyler was hunched against the railing, wet-dog shivering as he stared at her - half hatred, all desperation in the moonlight of God-only-knew-where Canada.
Was this truly the same creature who had seemed to appear and disappear with a stealth even she had admired? Who had stalked her through hospitals and high schools like a living shadow?
Her gaze swept the scene, taking in the drainpipe barely clinging to the building’s siding, the dents in it the same size of his hands and the scuff marks on the perfect white bannisters.
So, he’d tracked them through the great white north only to climb her balcony like some monstrous Romeo.
But had he come for sonnets or a showdown?
As unlikely as the first seemed, the second looked just as improbable. If he was here for a fight it would be a short one. Her eyebrow ticked upwards as she sized him up, he was slumped inward, trembling as he glowered at her with red-rimmed eyes. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, soaking his clothes along with the mud and blood and debris of the forest.
Unless he transformed it would be over in seconds, and even that looked like it would take a stamina he no longer seemed to possess.
Swallowing back a sigh, Wednesday let the knife fall to her side. It was still in hand, she wasn’t an idiot after all, but it was clear he was in no fit state for a proper brawl. Killing him now would be like shooting fish in a barrel, temporarily satisfying but ultimately disappointing. There was just no sport in it.
“How long have you been following us?” She asked instead, looking pointedly at the ruined sneakers under the stained cuffs of his stolen jeans. The soles were shredded, his bloodied socks peeking out from the holes he’d worn in them on the journey.
“Since you left Nevermore,” he muttered through teeth clenched so hard she imagined she could hear them cracking in his jaw, “your uncle drives like a mad man.”
“Of course,” she agreed with a shrug, “not that you’re in any position to throw stones.”
It took one mad man to recognise another after all, and Tyler was clearly slipping into insanity if he’d tracked her all the way here to… what? Shake at her like an impotent chihuahua in the middle of the night?
“Huh,” Tyler snapped his head away, not arguing with her but not explaining himself either.
The silence lingered, heavy and uncomfortable - it was usually her favourite kind - but tonight…
She told herself it was fatigue, she’d been hunting her renegade roommate with the obsessive fire she usually reserved for solving (or planning) murders, but she knew it wasn’t the whole story. It never was where he was concerned, as Weems had so often delighted in pointing out.
“Do you still have it?” His knuckles were white, hands clenching bruise-tight as he abruptly broke the silence.
Getting to the point at last, it seemed, what point however…
Years of strictly enforced self-control kept the surprise from her face, her eye twitching only once as she considered his question.
What was he looking for all the way out here?
“The drug,” he snapped his eyes at her as though she’d spoken the thought aloud, unforgivably good at reading her even now, “from the church. You said…”
Her self-control failed her for a fraction of a second, her breath leaving her in a sharp puff of air that clouded in the cold night air.
So that’s why he was here.
She should have seen it coming but she didn’t, a special kind of stupid plaguing her where he was concerned.
His mother was dead. His uncle. His father. Thornhill. Every tether he’d ever had had been cut loose, leaving him adrift in a sea of corpses with no masters or mentors left to cling to. She was smart enough to know what it meant, it was either find a new master or succumb to the slow embrace of insanity and death.
She’d thought he’d chose the latter, like she would, but she’d kept the vial close anyway. Swaddled it in bubble wrap and secured it in a pocket of her rucksack. Just in case.
“So you’re looking for a new master then.”
She flicked her gaze away from his dismissively, her palms sweating as she gripped her blade just a little tighter than necessary. Like a pointy little comfort blanket.
“I’m looking for you,” the vehemence in his tone would have been frightening in a less pathetic shell, his eyes almost painfully dark beneath his furrowed brow as he took a cautious step towards her, “Are you really gonna make me beg for it?”
She liked that idea.
A little too much, if she was being completely honest with herself. The thought of him on his knees pleading for her to chain him up thrilled her in a way she refused to examine too closely, a deliciously cold shiver running up her spine like someone was dancing on her grave as she met his gaze again.
He could be useful, she reminded herself sharply, pragmatically, when her thoughts threatened to derail, there was a reason she had made the serum in the first place after all. Why she had wanted him for her own even after everything they’d been through.
He could be a competent tool, a handy option for dealing with her more tenacious enemies. And then there was the fact he’d tracked her north at all, it was another useful skill - perhaps she could use him to pick up Enid’s trail and effectively kill two monsters with one stone. Or save them, as the case may be.
“I have to ask,” she said, her voice crisp and businesslike even as she let her eyes drag over him in hungry contemplation, “whilst I acknowledge that I am clearly the most logical choice to control you, why did you come to me?”
Was it just because she had the serum? Or had she misread the situation, did he mean to try take the drug from her and leave? Another Master already in mind to soothe his savage beast.
The thought made her fingers clench, something ugly throbbing in her chest. She rather suspected she’d break the vial before she let that happen, even if she didn’t quite know why.
“I came because-” Tyler’s throat worked as he swallowed, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he met her gaze with a furious sort of passion in his pallid face, “because as much as I hate the idea of having you as a master, I hate the idea of anyone else more. I’ve seen your darkness, Wednesday, and for better or worse it matches mine.”
So she was the lesser evil, there really was a first for everything.
“Do you truly think so?” He had taken another step forward and she’d let him, close enough now she could feel the heat radiating off him, feverish in the chill. “I don’t. You are chaos and confusion, Tyler,” she lifted her knife slowly, carefully, letting the flat of the blade glance over his cheek in warning as she tilted her head back to keep his gaze, “and I am a cold logical inevitability.”
He might be violence, but she was death itself. She always had been. If he truly wanted to be her monster he’d have to remember that.
Tyler didn’t pull away, his jaw tensing as he reached up to tug his shirt collar aside instead, baring his neck to her.
“Do it then,” he breathed, voice low and desperate as the muscles in his throat worked, “kill me, like you should have done back in that tower. Kill me or claim me, Wednesday, but for godsake don’t leave me like this.”
She couldn’t help herself, hypnotised by the way the moonlight glinted off her blade as she tracked it along his jaw and down his neck, watching the way his veins pulsed almost eagerly beneath the knife’s edge.
“You’d deserve it if I did,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. For what he’d done to Eugene, to Enid, to her. Not the attempted murder, the defenestration and shallow grave she could forgive easily enough, but for how he’d made her feel.
Used. Betrayed. Seen. Wanted.
His blood was so close to the surface she could practically hear his pulse, his jugular vein straining against his skin, begging to be cut.
“Maybe,” he agreed, his breath clouding the space between them as he shuddered under her blade, “I’m a monster, Wednesday, I’m not ashamed of it.” His eyes met hers from far, far too close, softened somehow as they drank her in, “But you are too, even if it is a different kind.”
He lifted his hand, hesitant, like she was the feral creature instead of him, maybe she was with the way her heart was beating. The awareness of it startled her, a wild, traitorous thing that thundered between her ribs as he reached for her. The scent of dirt and earth and blood filled her head as he gently closed his hand over hers.
And she let him.
Like she had before.
When he was a nice normie boy and she was the idiot who’d let him in.
It wouldn’t be the same, the voice in her head whispered, you’d have the power this time. You’d hold the leash. He’d be yours, to keep or crush however you saw fit.
"Wednesday..." his voice cracked on her name and for a moment she almost thought she felt something cracking inside of her too, the fault-line that had made her cut his bonds instead of his throat widening. It was a chasm she couldn’t close, no matter how hard she tried.
Why did her hatred still feel so much like the other thing? Why did it taste like obsession?
“You’d really do it,” she murmured, hating the way her eyes instinctively found his lips and her memory filled with the taste of him, fresh coffee and spearmint, “after everything, you’d still bind yourself to me.”
“You said it yourself, this is the only way,” his breath was ragged as he searched her gaze, mouth twitching in a tired smile as he leant closer still and whispered, “c’mon, Wednesday, let’s be monsters together.”
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Dragon Ball
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Guldo/Recoome
Characters: Bulma Briefs, Vegeta (Dragon Ball), Frieza (Dragon Ball), Zarbon (Dragon Ball), Dodoria (Dragon Ball), Appule (Dragon Ball), Guldo (Dragon Ball), Recoome (Dragon Ball), Jeice (Dragon Ball), Burter (Dragon Ball), Captain Ginyu (Dragon Ball)
Additional Tags: Human AU, Alternate Universe - Human, Bulma isn't an angel in this fic, Capitalism, also Guldo is an adult dont worry, his teeny tininess will b explained
Summary:
Company relations was an important thing to Bulma, especially when in regards with the most prominent man in the real-estate business: Frieza Cold of Cold Estates. So like hell was she going to let some pointy haired stranger with no manners get in the way of her getting to the meeting!
A mini fic for @honeyandlime who asked for Boblena at a gala/Yelena not realising how buff Bob is annnd a couple other things - I don’t think I hit all the points in the prompt you sent but hopefully you enjoy this anyway!
Ship: Boblena || Rating: T || Word count 1.6k ish
“I still don’t see why we couldn’t all have arrived together,” Ava complained as the limo circled the Metropolitan Banquet Hall for the third time, “this is ridiculous. I feel like a prize pig just waiting to be displayed at market.”
“At least you are fully dressed pig,” Yelena grumbled under her breath, fighting not to fidget with the backless scrap of red silk she’d been blackmailed into, it was held on with tape and string and made concealing a firearm almost entirely impossible, “I am… naked ham.”
“But a very lovely ham, if it helps,” Ava sighed, her attention fixed out of the window , “oh thank God - I think we’re pulling up at last. Come on then, let’s get this over with.”
The car had barely rolled to a halt before the door was wrenched open, a storm of flashbulbs exploding into the half-darkness of the interior as they were hit by the shouts of a hundred journalists outside.
Yelena let Ava go first, using the last few seconds before she was thrust out into the spotlight to inhale right down to the bottom of her lungs and count to ten. Well, six and a half.
When she’d said she wanted a forward facing role - was this really what she’d meant?
It wasn’t even like she could be herself, every moment of their entrance had been choreographed for them. Valentina had ensured it was drilled as thoroughly as any battle plan in the run up, from the clothes they’d wear to the questions they’d answer (and the ones they’d avoid,) even the timing and order they were to enter the gala - everything had been decided for them down to the last detail.
“We need maximum media visibility,” Valentina had demanded, clapping her hands to punctuate each word, “Bucky is our opener, he’s the most well known so he will be leading the charge, John, you and Alexei will go in next, then Ava - Yelena - you’re our grand finale, the new female face of heroics. Check your media packs please for the talking points we’ve-”
“What about Bob?” Yelena cut in, nose scrunching in confusion, “when does he go in?”
“Go in? Don’t be ridiculous, Yelena, tickets to the Osborn Trust Gala are for marketable superheroes not,” she waved her hand dismissively, "disappointing science projects.”
“Hey-”
“N-no it’s fine,” Bob stopped her before she could start, his hands shoved into the pockets of jeans two sizes too big for him and his shoulders hunched up by his ears, “it’s probably for the best. I haven’t been around that many people since… well, why risk it?”
“You are doing much better,” her dad had rumbled kindly, smacking Bob on the back with a bear sized paw and making him jerk forward, “you are part of team. This mission we do together, as family.”
“They’re right, Bob,” Ava sighed from her window seat, not as immune to the conversation as she appeared as she paused in the act of filing her nails, “besides, if you start to feel - you know - you can always leave early. It’s not a problem.”
“You heard ‘em, lady. Bobby doesn’t go, none of us do,” John huffed, which would have been a touching moment of team unity if Yelena didn’t know how desperately he wanted to avoid the gala altogether.
Valentina had insisted he invite his ex-wife as his date, which had gone just about as awfully as anyone could have expected.
“Fine,” Valentina finally sighed, rolling her eyes, “you’re all Spartacus. But he arrives early, before the press. I’m not having him ruining the red carpet with his - himness. I suppose this means we have to find another suit too - Mel call the designer-”
He’s inside right now, Yelena reminded herself as she stopped and posed where she was supposed to, teeth bared in a smile that felt closer to a grimace, is he doing okay in there?
If he wasn’t it was her fault.
She’d stepped in without asking his opinion, had pushed for him to go when he said he wasn’t sure. She’d just been so angry at Valentina for excluding him, they all were - except maybe Walker.
What if he really wasn’t okay?
Bob had denied it when she’d asked after the meeting, claimed he was glad for the invite, that he’d leave if he needed too, but Yelena still felt guilty. The least she could do was be there for him in person, instead of posing out here like an idiot like everyone wasn’t wishing she was her sister.
“A little less teeth, dear,” Ava advised her under her breath, “come on, we’re almost inside.”
Breaking through the crowd was liking breaking water, Yelena inhaling properly for the first time since they’d left the car as they were ushered through the door into the gala proper.
Everything was moodily lit and wonderfully air conditioned, a hundred different expensive perfumes competing for air space as the sound of the orchestra played over the laughter of the rich and famous and the crystalline tinkling of champagne glasses.
“Can you see them?” Yelena asked, ignoring everything but her goal as she tried to crane her neck to see over the elegant masses of people - it was no easy task, even in her heels.
“I think - yes, Walker and Alexei are by the bar, surprising exactly no one,” her team mate scoffed, a clear five ten in her heels and unaffected by the room full of of giants, “and Bucky’s over by the stairs talking to - I don’t know, someone.”
“What about Bob?”
“Not sure,” Ava shook her head, “Don’t worry, darling, I’m sure he’s here somewhere. Let’s check in with our fearless leader, he’ll know.”
Biting at the inside of her cheek Yelena trailed her through the fanciest level of hell. Had he left already? Was it too much?
She so wanted him to enjoy the party, to feel like part of the team and a valued member of their group. Had she ruined it before she’d even gotten through the door?
“Bucky!” Ava called, cutting a wide path through the crowd as she glided over to the congressman, “we were just looking for -”
Ava’s sentence trailed off but Yelena barely noticed, pulling anxiously at her skirts as her gaze slid from Bucky in his perfectly pressed suit to the guy next to him. Another handsome stranger with super-hero wide shoulders and legs that stretched for days.
Why was everyone so tall all of a sudden?
Yelena pressed up on her tip-toes, wishing this was any other type of mission where she could just climb to a better vantage place to find him. She didn’t think Valentina and the board of the Osborne trust would appreciate her climbing on the furniture but she was running out of patience.
If only she could -
“Lena, hi!”
Her head swung back in slow motion, jaw turning slack as she looked at the stranger, shook her head, and looked again.
“I say, Bob,” Ava’s eyebrows were in her hairline as she sized him up, “don’t you clean up a treat!”
“Bob?”
Speech failed her, her ears making a funny static kind of sound as she stared at the familiar stranger. He cut a sharp figure, his suit tailored within an inch to it’s life as it made the most of all his… well him.
She was used to slouchy sweaters and oversized cords, not… not…
“It’s too much isn’t it?” He said, misinterpreting her stunned silence as he fiddled with his cuff links awkwardly, “I look like a penguin.”
“Ух ты!” Yelena swore, shaking her head vehemently in denial, “no you look… you look…”
He waited, head tilting as he gave her a nervous little smile, “look…?”
“Tall!” She almost shouted, wincing as the people around them turned to stare, “I mean - yes, the suit, and the shoulders, makes you look… tall. And good. Beautiful. Can you say that to a man? Handsome? I don’t know.”
She fought the urge to shove her entire fist into her mouth just to shut herself up. It was Bob. Her Bob. They’d seen each other at their worst, fallen asleep watching movies on the same couch and woken up drooling on each other. He disinfected her war wounds when she couldn’t reach them and she kept vigil by his bed when the nightmares got too bad.
How the hell had the fact he was an entirely big buff hunk of a man escape her attention? Some spy she was - living with James Bond all this time and never bothering to notice!
“You look very nice tall, I mean too,” he interrupted her self-recrimination, colour rising in his cheeks as he looked over her, “you don’t look tall - well not like… freakishly tall. The heels make you taller sure but…” he rubbed his neck beneath his collar, face burning as he met her gaze awkwardly, “you look beautiful, Yelena.”
She was going to have a heart attack.
All those years of dangerous missions and deadly spy games and she was on the verge of cardiac arrest right here in the middle of a stupid fancy party.
“Well if this isn't just the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen,” Ava interjected drily, bringing her back to earth with a thump, “come on Bucky, be a dear and escort me to the bar before I throw up. Have fun, kids.”
Yelena hoped the stupid amount of make up they’d slapped on her was enough to cover her blush as Ava towed Bucky away with a smirk and a shake of her head.
Ship: Oshamir. Premise: What if Qimir was asleep when Osha went to talk to him disguised as Mae in episode? 👀
Oooh but this one got away from me - it’s been a few months since my last rewatch so hopefully it’s not too OOC! Enjoy Anon! 💜
Pairing: Oshamir || Rating: T || Words: 1500ish
The shop is empty.
Well, not empty - all manner of dried herbs and greenery fill the store, extractions and distillations lining the shelves in mismatched bottles as the scent of living things floods the air. Osha breathes through the unexpected wave of nostalgia that hits her at the smell of it, her mind swimming with yellow leaves on warm days as she tries to focus outward, on the one thing that’s not there.
The Apothecary himself.
She’s expecting a man but all she sees is stuff, her head on a swivel as she catalogues every shape and shadow for his whereabouts.
“Hello?” She calls hesitantly into the hush, silently cursing Yord for the faulty information as she edges deeper into the shop. She doesn’t know why she automatically blames him for it but it feels right so she goes with it.
The chair in the corner is empty and there’s no one crouched behind the counter or by a shelf. Her head swivels, fingers skirting over the worn edge of the counter as she looks for the stranger - or a trap, whichever she finds first.
The deeper into the shop she goes the quieter it becomes, the sound of the street fading away with every careful step. It’s almost like being underwater, her head filling with the heady scent of salt flowers and the whir of the ventilation fan as she approaches the open archway at the back of the store. The feeling squeezes in around her, shortening her breath and making her skin prickle beneath the coarse wool of her disguise as she takes the small step down into the back room and -
There.
She hears him first, a soft half-snore from the corner of the little living space at the back of the building. His breath is deep and even and, when she finally sets eyes on him it’s to find he’s out like a light.
This wasn’t part of the plan.
Although, to be fair, there weren’t actually that many parts of the plan. The mission had seemed so easy, and so urgent, that they didn’t pause for much of a briefing - just go in, pretend to be Mae, try and get some information, and get out again.
As if it would ever be that simple.
“Uh… hello?” She tries again but her voice doesn’t break a whisper, unforgivably quiet as she shifts awkwardly on her feet. Does she wake him? Does she wait? What would Mae do?
Yes Osha, the quiet voice in her head pipes up unhelpfully, what would the murderous sister you thought was dead for sixteen years do?
Biting her tongue she silences herself, focusing on what she does know rather than what she doesn’t. She’s here, the Apothecary is there… still snoring apparently. She’s not sure what she was expecting but she doesn’t think he’s it.
He looks younger than she thought he would, only a couple of years older than she is, and kinda handsome in a shabby, greaserat kind of way. Dark hair, dark lashes, full lips half-parted on an exhale. His hand is clutched to his chest, one knee thrown out at an angle as he tries to squeeze himself in the alcove. Nothing about him really fits, the clothes too big for him, the bed too small, he’s like a character from a story their mothers used to tell them when they were kids.
Focus, she reminds herself sharply, shaking off the loose thoughts and stepping closer. As little as she knows her sister anymore she’s certain Mae wouldn’t stand around staring like an idiot in any situation. Mae would act.
So Osha does too.
She reaches out, her mouth half-formed around another greeting as she goes to shake him awake only for the words to leave her as a gasp instead. The world shifts so fast she can’t make sense of it - one moment she’s bent over reaching for his shoulder, the next she’s half pinned beneath his body, her back pressed to the wall of the alcove and her heart racing as he stares down at her with liquid black eyes.
Damnit.
“Wha…?” There’s a confused furrow between his brows, thoughts flashing over his face too quickly for her to follow as his hand tightens around her wrist. This close she can feel how warm he is, his heartbeat thumping against her own as the scent of him fills her head completely. Greenery and metal and an undercurrant of cheap liquor.
She’s not afraid, not really, even without the three armed Jedi circling the building she trusts her ability to take down one sleepy herbalist, no matter how quick his instincts are, but by the maker she’s embarrassed. This guy has well and truly gotten the jump on her, a damning reminder of just how out of touch she is… and just how right the Jedi were to cast her off.
All she can think about is what Yord will say when he finds out what happened, and even worse what Sol won’t say. His disappointment already palpable to her as she tries to get hold of a situation that’s rapidly slipping from her fingers.
“Uh…” she clears her throat, trying to read the stranger’s face as he blinks back into the moment, gaze fully focusing on hers at last, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Does he know who she is? Well, who she’s pretending to be anyway? Has this whole embarrassing nightmare been for nothing?
The silence drags for just long enough for Osha to curse every twist of fate that’s brought her to this place and time, then he smiles.
It’s a sunshine-on-a-rainy-day kind of smile, genuine and open and easy as he softens his hold on her but doesn’t move away.
“It’s okay,” he sighs, a laugh in his voice and a crinkle at the corner of his eyes as he grins down at her, “you know I’m jumpy when I wake up.”
Does she?
Does Mae?
Who exactly is this man to her sister?
She thought he was just a resource, a useful tool in her quest for revenge, but this… this is something else entirely.
They really should have spent more time on the plan.
“Besides,” he continues, his thumb sweeping the inside of her wrist in a gesture so effortlessly intimate it makes her heart stop, drop and roll, “I didn’t expect you back so early.”
Envy hits her like a fist.
It punches so hard it almost knocks the air from her lungs, a hot, shameful burn of feeling that she’s never been strong enough to block.
Sixteen years and the only meaningful relationship Osha’s managed to hold onto has been with a Pip droid, and meanwhile Mae has been - what? Cavorting around the galaxy with this handsome hobo? Sharing painfully sweet little moments like this between revenge quests? It’s all so warm and easy and everything Osha has never had.
It’s so unfair.
“Soo-” he teases when she doesn’t speak, her tongue stuck between her teeth, threatening to choke her as he brushes a loc from her face with another distracted smile, “did the poison work? Wait… you killed Torbin without the poison, didn’t you? He will be so pleased.”
Right.
Torbin. Poison. Dead Jedi.
The mission resurfaces and the shame doubles, hating herself for hating herself as she tries to find the thread of her thoughts.
She’s not Mae, she doesn’t want to be - no matter how pretty this stranger looks when he smiles down at her like that. This is a ruse, she’s playing a part, she’ll get her information then she’ll get out.
Simple.
“No, I used the poison,” she admits quietly, trying to keep an aloofness in her voice like she’s not sharing his air, hitching her eyebrow in a way she vaguely remembers her sister doing when they were kids, “I just… wanted to thank you.”
Damnit.
Not simple, not simple at all. She’s said exactly the wrong thing, the statement suddenly becoming a proposition as his eyes widen, gaze dropping to her mouth with a hunger that makes her stomach clench.
“Really?” His voice is so low she can feel it vibrating through her chest when he speaks, an entirely new panic filling her head as he leans slowly closer, like gravity. Inevitable. Unstoppable, “you mean…?"
How far is she willing to take this?
How far does she want to take this?
He kisses her before she can formulate an answer, which - given how she melts beneath him is pretty much an answer in itself. It’s pathetic the way she curls upwards, nerves on fire beneath her skin as all the loneliness inside of her surges up at once and swallows her good sense whole.
Her hands are in his shirt, it’s shabby and oversized and covers a deceptively strong frame, firm beneath her palms as she lets the moment last for one painfully long second. Lets herself be someone else. Someone… wanted.
Then reality kicks back in again. This isn’t her kiss, or her moment, or her man. This is an accomplice to a string of crimes she’s meant to be stopping. Like - right now. She pushes him back, breathing unforgivably hard for such a chaste kiss as they part. He doesn’t go far, a long strand of hair falling in his face as he reaches out to straighten her cowl.
“You should know…” he murmurs, an unexpected seriousness in his eyes as they meet hers, seeing way too deep for what he is as she catches herself waiting for his next words.
Is this it? Is this when he tells her everything? Spills his secrets and makes all of her mistakes worth while?
Prompt... How about... soulmate mark on your soulmates body. Could be first words, matching mark, soulmates injury on ur soulmates body for example. What kinda soulmark au dealers choice 😅
I'm having flashbacks to ur amazing soul mate fic for reylo Skymarked Souls, so would loooove too see ur take on a soulmate mark with oshamir x
Omg okay this is 100% cheating because I wrote this when the show was airing and never posted it - and also I apologise because it’s based on the exact same scene as my last post - BUT have some first word Soulmate AU! ALSO - thank you for your kind message Anon, I can’t believe anyone remembers those old fics! It really made my day!💜
Ship: Oshamir || Rating: T || Words: 2100ish
Osha’s entire life has been defined by one word.
One incredibly, overwhelmingly, ordinary word.
Hello.
The small greeting, written in a messy, angular hand over the left side of her ribs has changed everything.
At first it’s a blessing, tangible proof that - no matter how much she loves her sister - she’s not Mae. She’s different, they’re different. She may be one of two but they’re not identical in every way, the word is hers and hers alone. It doesn’t matter how mad Mae gets, or how worried her mothers seem, it’s something just for her and she holds onto it - no matter how selfish it sometimes feels.
Then her world burns, she meets the Jedi, and the word becomes a curse.
The day Sol finds out is the third worst in her memory. Sol’s disappointment is seared into her brain, another Padawan tattling on her after they’d shared the showers after a training session. When he’d pulled her aside his expression had been so final - like a failure, another death.
Still, he’d softened the blow - explaining in his softest, most careful voice that the word was the mark of a soul mate bond, a perfect prophecy of her future partner's first interaction with her. It could happen to anyone, Sol told her, force sensitive or not. Her soul was meant to meet with another, to intertwine in a dance older and vaster than the galaxy.
“Why?” she’d whispered around the knife suddenly lodged in her chest.
“People are flawed,” he’d answered so, so patiently, “we don’t always recognise our match - we can be pushed, persuaded, blinded by our own prejudice… the words ensure we do not miss our moment.”
It wasn’t the answer she wanted, or the question she was asking. When she asked ‘why’ she hadn’t meant ‘why do they exist?’ but rather ‘why me? Why now? Why has the universe forsaken me again?”
It felt like a cruel trick, the council always said she couldn’t let go of her attachments and this just proved it.
It wasn’t fair. She’d wanted so much to be her own person, to forge her own path, but it had been snatched away from her again - set fire to by her own skin this time.
Sol had tried to console her, telling her that it wasn’t impossible for her to be a Jedi, that there were others with marks - they were rare but they existed. It just meant she had to work harder.
And she did.
She worked harder, and harder and harder and so damn hard, and it didn’t change a thing.
Here she stands with the fruits of her labor, an out of work Meknek chasing her dead sister through a strange world on the orders of people she’ll never be good enough for.
Osha doesn’t flinch as she walks the streets of Olega through a hail of ‘hello’s, two dozen greetings in a half dozen languages as the street hawkers try and draw her attention towards their goods.
Hellos are a prophecy she no longer believes in, not after she’s heard so many of them. Yord. Jecki. Padawans and masters and mechanics and absolute strangers. She’s drowned in hellos over the years and none of them have changed a goddamn thing, they haven’t kept anyone from leaving.
Her soulmate, whoever the hell they are, has never bothered to show up and she’s long since stopped looking.
Swallowing down her feelings, Osha forces herself to focus through her discontentment, she sees a woman selling scarves at the side of the street and remembers her mission. Mae is alive, the focus of so much of her rage and hatred and love, Mae is alive and Osha has to stop her.
Fumbling with her credits, Osha swaps a handful for a length of dark wool, looping it around her neck in the way her sister has been seen wearing. She straightens her back beneath it, trying to carry herself like she imagines Mae would as she eyes up her destination.
She can do this, even if she’s not a Jedi anymore she can still do her best to save them. For Sol and his endless hope, for Kelnecca and his kindness to her, for Indara and Torbin who saved her even though she couldn’t save them.
Squeezing her hands tightly at her sides she strides towards the apothecary, the noise of the street fading as she ducks between the blast doors.
The shop is small, cluttered, the air heavy with a mix of herbs and extracts, sweet and earthy and almost nostalgic. The man she’s here to interrogate is slumped against the wall behind the counter, he’s youngish and scruffy looking with magnifying lenses covering half his face and a pale bloom cupped in his hand.
Clearing her throat she begins her ruse, “Hello?”
The stranger glances up with a smile and a wave, a brief noise of surprise followed by a cheery, “Hello..”
His voice is pleasant if unremarkable, and the fact he’s just repeated her word only makes her heart jump for a single beat, and only because she was just thinking about it. If anything it reminds her just how stupid the Force was to give her ‘Hello’ in the first place, the words are supposed to ensure she doesn’t miss her fated match and yet, for all the dozens upon dozens of times she’s been given that first hello, nothing ever changes.
He glances back at the plant again and she determines this particular stranger isn’t any different, the disappointment now a mild throb rather than the aching pain it had been a few years ago. He isn’t a good candidate anyway, not if he’s supplying poison to her murderous sister.
“Hi,” she says after an awkward pause where she tries to find her footing, the mission had sounded so simple when Jecki suggested it but now she’s here, sweating under the coarse wool of her new cloak, she can’t seem to wrap her tongue around the right words.
How does one successfully pretend to be the Jedi-killing assassin twin they’ve believed to be dead for 16 years?
“Hi?” he repeats, almost a question as his attention fixes on the flower again for a long moment before, with a blink and a shake of his head, he perks up, “hi!”
Kicking away from the wall he pulls the goggles off, casting the plant aside as he fixes her properly with his attention at last.
—-
The word has been there as long as he remembers, too long perhaps, a simple thing in a delicate, sloping hand. It is his only constant, the only thing that remains even as he changes names and identities like other people change clothes. It is his secret, his comfort, a tether to the world when all else fails and the universe threatens to crush in on him completely.
Hello.
A greeting, a start, a reminder that - no matter how long it feels like he’s waited - it won’t be forever. His match is promised, destined, waiting for him somewhere out there in the reaches of space and time. It doesn’t matter how many would-be pupils fail him, he knows she won’t.
His perfect partner.
His soul mate.
Her.
“Hello.”
It takes all his years of training to keep his eyes on the bud in his hands and his body where it stands, going through the motions of the charade even as something inside of him swells. Hundreds of people have said it to him before, maybe thousands in his too-long life, but not like this, not like she does.
The woman’s voice forms the slants and shapes of the handwriting over his heart perfectly, her presence filling his head like the smell of ozone after the rain. And, when he finally allows himself to look at her properly, fully, he finds it impossible to look away.
She’s magnificent.
She looks like Mae, structurally at least, but she’s not her, there could never be any mistaking that. She wears her face in a completely different way, all wide eyes and expressive lips, and the Force… it moves around her like nothing he’s ever seen before. It’s like a shoal of fish, a mass of living, breathing energy that twists and turns and follows her every breath. It’s as drawn to her as he is.
“You alright?” He makes himself ask, placing the goggles aside with a silly flourish and a distracted fumble, his hands are unforgivably clumsy, suddenly out of sync with the rest of him as he rounds the counter, “you’re back so early?”
Not-Mae’s throat moves as she swallows. Osha, his mind supplies to him as he follows the movement, this is Osha, the dead twin… only, not so dead it seems. Very much alive in fact. Thank the stars.
“I wanted to see you,” she says, her chin held up imperiously even as something in her eyes wavers.
I wanted to see you too, he thinks with a pang of yearning so deep it makes his bones ache, for so very very long…
Outwardly however he only allows a fraction of his surprise to register on his face, pointing to himself in confusion, “see me? Oh…”
His eyes dance over her again, thinking how easy it would be to snatch her away right here and now. A twist of his powers, a few shortcuts, and they could be out of the city before anyone even realized, somewhere far away where they can do this properly. Like they were supposed to.
He doesn’t of course, not just because she doesn’t seem to have realized the importance of their meeting yet, but also because there is the looming presence of the Jedi she’s brought with her waiting in the wings. They’re somewhere just beyond the perimeter of the shop and, he’s pretty sure, they’re listening. Which is really very annoying.
Still, eons have passed in the time he’s waited to meet her, he’s confident he can keep himself together for a little longer. Just a little though. Just long enough to play this game out to its conclusion then… well, then the galaxy is their oyster.
“Uh Mae…” the name sounds wrong as he says it but he reads the flicker of pride in her eyes just the same, so pleased with herself for her little deception, “are you ok? Did the poison work? Wait…”
He tilts his head, tasting his teeth with his tongue as he approaches again, voice dropping as he feels her excitement warring with her anxiety. Such a beautiful contradiction, “you killed Torbin without the poison… he will be so pleased.”
And he is pleased. So very pleased. He’s so close to her now they’re sharing oxygen, his eyes flickering over her again without his permission - wondering where beneath her layers his handwriting sits, is it over her heart? Her arms? Her stomach? Her thighs? His fingers flex, palms itching with the urge to touch her, to search it out himself right here and now.
Patience, he snaps at himself as he finds her eyes again, deep, true brown and fixed on him,
where they belong. Where she belongs.
“No, I used it,” she says, her outward confidence barely masking the waver in her emotions, how uncertain she’s become as he prowls towards her, crowding her space, “I just… wanted to thank you.”
He has to stop himself from imaging all the ways she might choose to thank him, she’s still pretending after all. Pretending in a way that makes it clear she hasn’t seen her sister in a very long time, Mae is many things - stubborn, stoic, fierce, strong, fickle - but grateful is not one of them. Desirable isn’t either, at least not to him, Osha however…
He bites his lip, moving closer before he can stop himself as he draws the charade to an end at last.
“You look exactly like her,” it’s almost a lie, for all their cosmetic similarities Osha is a different creature entirely, his eyes feasting on her without restraint as he presses into her space.
For a moment she lets him, lets him crowd her, lets him breathe her, her eyes wide as he considers if she’ll let him kiss her too, let him…
She jerks back, breaking the spell as she raises her blaster towards him and the Jedi flood in, leaving him to fall back into his bumbling persona. He raises his hands, all clumsy innocence as he picks up the game again, plays his moves like he had always planned, but his eyes never leave her - not for long anyway.
Alastor continued to pump his shaft, gradually gaining speed as you sat there still, eyes shifting from his face to his hand, not sure which you wanted to grab onto first. The demon laid before you, his soft whimpers soon turning into all-out moans of pleasure, patiently awaiting your next actions. And just as you stared at him - admiring the way the soft light of the room shone on his sweat covered skin and made the ridges of his pelvic v more pronounced - he stared back.
His own eyes traveled from your blissed out expression, pupils blown wide with lust, to the bite marks and hickies scattered across your neck and collarbone, and further down to the curve of your supple breasts, heaving as you tried to catch your breath before you continued.
Oh, how he wanted to latch his lips onto your pert nipple, flicking his tongue over it again, and again, and again, sucking harshly until it stood fully erect; kneading the other breast and rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger - switching back and forth between your delicious mounds every few minutes. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Alastor was starting to become impatient with your lack of movement.
"My sweet doe, please..." he begged, voice thick with seduction and desperation. Closing his eyes and letting his head tilt back slightly, you could see how the muscles in his neck were strained, his breathing becoming more and more ragged the longer he pumped his hand up and down the length of his shaft. Bringing his other hand that had been tucked behind his head down to cup his balls, he squeezed gently and began kneading at them the same way he had imagined with your breasts just moments ago. The hand stroking his cock quickened as the lost orgasm from before slowly began to build once more, his defined ab muscles flexing as he began to buck up into his own hand.
Opening his eyes once more, Alastor lifted his head to look at you again, eyes half-lidded and unfocused, pupils blown wide with arousal and desire as he allowed his gaze to travel even further south of your body to your ambrosian heat, soaking wet and dripping with his seed. He noticed a bead rolling down the inner side of your thigh, and reached out with the hand that had been caressing his aching balls - he swiped away the viscous fluid with his thumb only to bring it up and press it against your lips, beckoning for you to open and lick it clean.
Without a moments hesitation, your lips parted as Alastor presses the appendage against your tongue. You swirled your tongue over it, your lips closing around the digit as you sucked lightly and allowed the bitter salty taste of his cum coated your tongue. A more guttural moan escaped his throat while you moved to straddle him, having caught your breath and let your muscles relax enough to finally obey his previous command.
Pulling your mouth off with a loud pop, you placed your hands on his chest and positioned your sweet cunt just above his cock. Alastor had retracted both hands now, one going to rest behind his head once more, the other on your hip as he waited for you to sink down onto him. He was beginning to lose his mind with this torturous wait you were forcing him to endure; it was almost enough for him to take back control - to let his tentacles wrap around your body and hold you steady as he bucked up into your tight pussy, claws digging into the soft plush skin of your hips and drawing more of your delicious blood to lick clean. But no. He wanted to watch you use him for your own pleasure, and he was curious about what you might do with the feigned control he had given you.
Exhaling audibly, Alastor rubbed his flushed tip against the folds of your pussy - with as hard as he was and as soaked as you were, you were sure there would be no need for guidance from your hands. A smirk played its way across your blushing face while you watched a bead of his own blood drip from his lip from where his sharp teeth punctured the sensitive tissue down onto his chin. "Please, I need you darling..." he pleaded breathily, uncharacteristically submissive for a few moments. But just as quickly as it came, it was gone - make no mistake, you were on top, but he was the one in control.
"If you don't move, I'm afraid I'll have to punish-" Alastor started, only to be cut off by the sudden embrace of your velvety walls surrounding his dick with one swift motion. Throwing his head back and clenching his eyes shut, the Radio Demon let his jaw fall slack as he instantly bottomed out inside you, your mixed essences making it easy to slide against your already pliat walls.
"Fuuuuhh- ... aaackk!"
Okay this one had me right there with yall! I had to stop myself cause I was ready to drop a full blown fic here 🥵
Ahaha I'm doing beautifully my loves, thank you for asking! I promise I'm eating and sleeping regularly - healthily, not so much, unfortunately. The nature of my job allows me a lot of free time, so I've been trying to squeeze these in whenever I have the opportunity. But just fyi: your reactions are all the sustenance I need, baby~ ;) 💋
How are ya'll doin' on this fine morning? I haven't turned any of you into full blown puddles yet, have I~? 💦😈
PS: I'm so sorry for slamming your inbox with such a massive piece, Mink! I REALLY got carried away with this one 😂 Love you all sooo much, just wanna smooch each and every one of you~!
- ☄️❤️ Smut Santa
OH MY LORDDDDD ☄️❤️ SMUT SANTAAA!!! 😩🥲❤️🔥
Another tantalizing addition! 😮💨❤️🔥 I’m still trying to calm down 😂 This was honestly such a surprise, and once again, the first thing I saw this morning lmaoo. So I’ll be doing my best to keep it together omggg 🫠❤️🔥
And please, don’t apologize for the length; it doesn’t intimidate me one bit (no innuendo here I promise 😂👀✨).
I’m so glad you’re doing well, and I won’t prod, but I hope your health improves to a place you’re happy with — we’re all sending you our love 😭💖 you deserve nothing but good things, ALWAYS!! 💖
It’s been thrilling to see you enjoy yourself with these; I still can’t believe I’m even in the loop here 🥲✨ Just know that I’ll keep reacting for as long as you’ll let me 😂❤️🔥 or until my brain ACTUALLY breaks 🫠
LOVE YOU RIGHT BACK, ☄️❤️!! SO MUCH!! xoxo
@hazelfoureyes & @sugoi-writes PART SEVEN 😮💨🙏🏻❤️🔥
**updated april 28, 2024: @synamartia ❤️🔥**
part one ; part two ; part three ; part four ; part five ; part six ; part seven ; part eight ; part nine
