#rather than just how the character's voice sounds (which would be blue!)
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— in which they slowly find themselves enamored by the natural charms of their interviewer
feat. itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae
cw + tw. nothing much just fluff, fem!reader, interviewer/reporter!reader, aged-up!characters, characters are professional athletes and continue playing in their teams from the neo egoist league (except sae)
notes. first time posting blue lock so apologies if anyone’s ooc, either way i might make a follow-up of this (that might be more uh ya know) and/or add characters
ITOSHI RIN
the sound that follows the harsh slam of his locker is a frustrating sigh that has been simmering in rin’s chest since the end of today’s match. the match in which he had lost—and at the hands of isagi’s team which makes the defeat all the more bitter and disgusting on his tongue. it didn’t help that during the game, he was butting heads with his supposed teammate, shidou. once the coach had decided to sub the eccentric player in, their styles began mixing like oil and water. as a result, their win was swooped up from under them.
pxg has been called to host a post-sport interview to review the match with reporters, but rin couldn’t care less to participate. instead, he’s the very last person to leave the locker rooms. his duffle bag is slung over his shoulder, steps ambling down the hallway.
whether he wins or loses, rin never bothers to attend these post-game interviews. he doesn’t need to sit there and have brash reporters shoot the same questions at him, expecting him to “thank his coach and teammates,” “praise his opponents for a great game today,” and say he’ll “continue to work hard to win next time.” gross. he’d rather be caught dead than have any of those words leave his mouth.
as rin navigates through the hallways of the stadium, he’s hoping to be done with the day and think over the turn of events on his own. but when he rounds the corner, he crosses eyes with someone so obviously lost in the facility—a mistake which punishes him as you immediately approach him with doe, bewildered eyes.
“sorry, i don’t mean to bother you, but i was wondering where the conference for pxg was being held,” you ask. a pad of notes are cradled in your arms, pen clipped to the breast pocket of your blazer. it’s clear you’re another reporter.
before he can point you in the right direction to get you out of his hair, you squint. you’re taking a long, hard look at him until your face suddenly glows. “wait, you’re itoshi rin, the striker for pxg!” you practically blurt. with the volume of your voice, rin’s instincts take hold, and he’s pulling you away from the open space of the hallway.
“quiet. you want everyone to hear?” rin chastises.
“whoops. i got a little excited! i-i’ve been wanting to interview pxg’s top player and well…” you could say the opportunity presented itself, but rin makes it clear he’s not interested.
“if you’re here just to hear me mope over my loss, then go home,” the striker affirms to what he thinks will be the last of this exchange until you tug on the sleeve of his jersey before he starts walking away. turning his head back to glance at you, his brow quirks.
“no, of course not! i thought it was incredible how you were able to keep control of the ball from your opponents and even score the first two points of the game all by yourself!” you exclaim, face lifting as it’s teeming with admiration. surprisingly, he can’t help but be a bit amused by the determined expression etched over the perplexed look that was originally on your features.
you swipe your pen hanging off your pocket, prompting it open with a click of your thumb. “and i’m sure a lot of your fans would love to hear from you!”
the athlete cocks his head. “you’re acting like a fan yourself, miss reporter.”
you blink in surprise. the enthusiasm in your words tones down, but you fail to mask it completely. “what? no, i’m just here to get the exclusive on the best athletes of our country!” if your plan is to butter him up to get a word out of him, it may almost work. you send him another fawning look as if to say “can you blame me though?” and that stirs a low chuckle from his throat.
his face lowers until it’s slightly more leveled with your own, and from this angle, you’re amazed to find you can distinguish every distinct eyelash on his pretty face. and you’re even more enamored by the intense color of his teal eyes. at the proximity, however, your face bathes in the heat of the blood rushing to your cheeks. thankfully, the striker breaks eye contact in favor of taking the notepad from your arms, along with your pen which he uses to scribble something down.
“tell you what,” he says as he continues writing, “come to the next pxg match and i’ll give you an exclusive interview, right after i score at least four goals and decimate the other team.”
his declaration leaves you in awe, and your fascination persists when he hands your pen and pad back for you to see a ten digit number, followed by call my manager written next to it.
NAGI SEISHIRO
back when he was in school, nagi was never great at first impressions. and apparently that’s still the case even later on in his career as a professional striker.
he doesn’t even notice you enter the room as he’s preoccupied with tapping the controls for the first person shooter on his phone. as such, he’s woefully unprepared to hear the reluctant, but soft voice that vies for his attention.
“um, excuse me. if you don’t mind, i’d like to get started with the interview.”
taking a slow glimpse above his screen, he sees the refreshing sight of you—his interviewer—sitting across from him in your neat attire and a clipboard on your lap. surprised by the modest smile that greets him, he automatically straightens up and casts his phone to the side.
it’s a big contrast to what he was expecting. usually, scruffy men who claim they’re adept and knowledgeable in the sport would be shoving their mics in his face. when in reality those people are just washed up high school coaches or analysts who act all high and mighty by asking a bunch of nonsense questions. saying this and that about how they would have done it differently had they been in the game instead of him. regardless, they’re such a pain and nagi would rather be napping in his cloud mattress than go through another talk session with those wannabes. however, his encounter with you just might break this boring streak.
he rubs the back of his head sheepishly, playing off the crass first impression. “right. start whenever you want.”
once he gives you the go ahead, you flip through a few pages to your questions.
as time goes on, the sentiment nagi initially held about how the interview might have been a pain and a waste of his time in his already packed schedule begins to sway. throughout the inquiries, he finds himself fixated on you. like the flattering nude color touched up on your plush lips. or how you have a habit of playing with strands of your hair when contemplating on what question to ask next. or the cute laugh you let out that was pleasant to his ears when he gave a much more aloof answer than you were expecting.
well, he can’t change the fact that he doesn’t need to think much when it comes to football. that’s just how naturally talented he is—the sport is second nature to him. honestly, he’s a bit bummed out that he can’t give a competent interviewer like you better responses.
what catches the snowy haired striker slightly off-guard is your next topic of questions about his e-sport endorsements. he wasn’t expecting you to delve into his hobbies. most interviews always glossed over that area in favor of asking something along the lines of “what was going through your head when you made that winning goal,” to which he could only say he was too caught up in the moment to really convey the feelings into words.
but with this opportunity, nagi goes on a mild tangent about the new first person shooter he’s been playing. even if his tone sounds indifferent on the surface, you don’t miss the hidden enthusiasm under the brighter twinkle of his eyes. you giggle which makes nagi pause.
“did i say something weird?” he asks back. you swear you detect a tonal whine in his voice, another endearing trait you didn’t know a 190 cm striker could possess.
“no.. just find it cute how much you can talk about your favorite games like that.”
nagi can’t tell whether the grin on your pretty lips is there to tease him or that you find his boyish charms endearing. either way, his cheeks puff and that only serves to make him more adorable in your eyes.
“well don’t let me stop you! i’d like to hear more about what things interest you other than soccer.” the look on your face fascinates him. you’re not even looking at your clipboard anymore, but right at him. it’s the tell-tale sign of someone who genuinely wants to know him not as the star player of manshine city, but just as regular nagi seishiro. he’s not used to that sort of treatment and as a result, he can’t meet your eyes, not realizing he flushes a lovely shade of pink that reaches the tips of his ears.
nagi pouts, glancing down at his phone that’s been laying near his thigh, untouched for a record of what must be ages, but that honestly doesn’t feel long enough to him. “no fair… you’re just teasing me…” he murmurs, but his fingers are already itching to ask his manager if he can extend the interview to spend more time with you.
ITOSHI SAE
the first opportunity you get to interview the itoshi sae is unconventional, to say the least.
“excuse me! please let me through–!”
“miss, you can’t be here– hey!”
the setting is chaotic, to the point where sae can make out the commotion in the background as he’s walking toward his rest area with his manager and bodyguard following beside him. when he glimpses at what all the fuss is about, he witnesses security personnel wrangle with a stray reporter.
spotting the reddish haired athlete, you find an opportunity to call out to him. “itoshi sae, please, may i have a word with you?”
to your dismay, security persistently blocks your view of the midfielder. despite being obstructed by a pair of burly men almost twice your size, you give them more of a struggle as you thrash around, even reprimanding them to “keep their hands to themselves if they know what’s good for them.” sae can’t help but be amused. a part of him finds your efforts admirable—watching you scrunch up your uniform and crease your notes at just a chance to speak with him.
“mister itoshi is far too busy to entertain any more of you today. please make your way to the exit–”
“it’s fine,” sae interjects to everyone’s surprise—mostly to the utter astonishment of you and his manager. the latter’s eyes widen scrupulously before he cups his hand next to the pro athlete’s ear.
“sir, i believe we’ll be running late to your next scheduled event if you decide to do a last minute interview,” the manager warns warily. “besides, haven’t you talked to enough of the media today? i mean look at her, she doesn’t even seem worth your time–”
“push everything back thirty minutes if you have to.”
his manager gawks. “but..?!”
one side-eye of sae’s piercing ocean eyes is enough for the man to retract his statement and mumble his apologies. that said and done, the security guards withdraw to let you through. you’re astonished by how much the situation can flip with the cooperation of a renown professional.
sae’s staff lead you into his spacious break room, preparing a set of chairs and leaving glasses of water on the coffee table before you start. having already taken his seat, he watches you run your hands through the wrinkled material of your blouse and pencil skirt. after finally fixing your stray hairs in place, you sit in front of him in all your pristine as if the whole conflict from earlier never happened. he wants to give you another point for professionalism.
“once again, thank you so much for granting me the opportunity to speak to you today,” you beam, mocking his manager hovering in the background with your unbeknownst-to-sae sly little smile.
sae grins, charmed. you arrange your notes one last time before moving onto your questions.
during the interview, sae comes to know your professionalism isn’t merely for show. you’ve done your research, analyzed his plays—his techniques, and as a result, ask him the most intriguing inquiries he’s sure no reporters asked him before. and he’s had his fair share of interviews throughout his developing career as a child prodigy. it’s evident you weren’t planning to waste his time and he’s appreciative of that fact.
there’s also an air of zeal you possess that allures him. he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. your ingenuity? your liveliness? either way, he can’t imagine this to be his last interaction with you, and he makes sure that won’t be the case.
at just a simple snap of his finger, his manager is at his side. you have to hold in a snicker at how the man scurries over to the midfielder like a dog.
the two exchange a few words you don’t catch, only deciphering the dumbfounded look on the manager’s face which clashes with the stoic expression on sae’s. whatever the conversation was about, the former knows it’s a losing battle. at his loss, he pulls out a lanyard from the compartment attached to his clipboard. he gives it to sae, who takes it and leans across the space between you two to place it in your awaiting hands, as if you already knew from the manager’s defeated mannerisms that it was meant to be yours.
“this is..?” you begin inquiring as you eye the card on the lanyard methodically.
sae beats you to your discovery of that answer. “an exclusive press pass, which you can use to reach out to me again following any matches i’ve played in.”
mouth hanging open, you switch back and forth between the pass and sae’s marine eyes which don’t hold a shred of doubt.
he puts it simply.
“i’d like to continue this interview with you again.”
copyright 2023 shotoh, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else so please do not repost this or share my content on tiktok.
#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#bllk imagines#rin x reader#sae x reader#nagi x reader#blue lock fluff#bllk fluff#rin fluff#rin itoshi x reader#blue lock x you#nagi fluff#sae fluff#blue lock headcanons#sae itoshi x reader#nagi seishiro x reader
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not my world [ prologue ]
– Summary: One day you wake in a foreign world with nothing to your name except the clothes on your back. A talking cat named Grim, gives you your only lead to return home. Seek out the seven gods and pray they answer your plea.
– Warning: Yes, this series is a yandere thing, although this post really isn't. Gender-neutral reader.
– Characters: Grim.
– Note: Think of this like a test, just to see how it's received. Yes, this is based off that outlander post I made a while ago. I was thinking I could make this a long-lasting series. However, it really depends how y'all like it. There's not too much going on here, because I'm trying to set the scene and I wrote it all fairly quickly. However, it's just a small taste. So, let me know what y'all think.
– Pages: 11
“So… you’re saying that you woke up here on this beach with no explanation, but you’re from another world so you have no idea where you are? You fell asleep in your own bed, in your own home, and now you’re here, with no way to go back?”
As far fetched as it sounded, you could only grimly nod. A dream, this should’ve just been a nightmare. But that was confirmed to be false when you pinched yourself multiple times and tried to splash yourself with the nearby ocean water. Everything felt so real, from the sand between your toes to the breeze in the air and the sunlight drying the water off the surface of your flesh. You wanted it to be nothing but a dream, especially when you found a talking cat with a forked tail and blue fire in his ears.
This was your third attempt trying to explain things to this impish but rather harmless little furball, and each time he seemed more puzzled than the last. His little black nose twitched as he sat in front of you, his paws digging into the sand as those strange eyes of his studied you closely. His voice was grating, high-pitched, speaking with a tone of doubt. “You don’t look like you’re from any of the seven nations. No pointed ears, no beast features, not even a magestone to your name! Well, it makes sense. A nobody like you obviously wouldn’t have a magestone anyways.”
That was probably meant to be an insult, but considering you didn’t even know what a magestone was, you didn’t really take any offense at all. Pointed ears, beast features, magestones, annoying talking cats– you really didn’t care about any of that. “Because I’m not from whatever seven nations there are. I already told you where I’m from.”
“Yeah, well I never heard of wherever it was you said. So get lost, would you, human? I’ve claimed this beach alrea–”
A low growl rang in the air. Swiftly you scanned your surroundings, fearful that you were about to be attacked by some mythical beast. However, when you looked back to the feline who now looked quite ashamed, you realized the noise came from his stomach. Actually, the little fellow seemed pretty scrawny, and you could just barely make out the shape of his ribs poking out of his sides.
Standing up, you brushed off the sand clinging to the oversized t-shirt you fell asleep in. Thankfully, you at least had sandals, which was better than waking up here barefoot. With one look around, there didn’t appear to be anyone for miles, and no sign of civilization here. Leaving the cat as your only option to turn to, as jarring as it was to be speaking to a cat. “Er… Look, if you could at least help me find people, a shelter, a city, something– then I’ll see about getting you something to eat. Deal?”
“I don’t need your help! But… I’m curious, so I’ll follow anyway.”
“Great…” You sigh, as you decide to follow a path that leads away from the shoreline and into woodlands. At the very least, you were not completely alone. This would be much more terrifying if you had woken up and there was absolutely no one around. “So, do you have a name or are you, like, feral?”
“I’m not feral!” It hissed as it walked in tandem beside you, keeping up with your steady pace. “Since I am so great, I will allow you to know my name. I am the all-mighty Grim! One-of-a-kind and destined to one day become strong, powerful enough to defeat even the seven gods!”
“Seven gods…?” Was this some sort of fantasy setting? It had to be. First he mentioned pointed ears and beast-people, and you were having a conversation with a talking cat! Maybe seven gods were the least outlandish thing you’ve heard today. “Well, I’m (Y/n).”
“You’ve never heard of The Seven? How stupid could you be?”
You frowned at his toothy little grin as he ridiculed you for your knowledge on a place you just ended up in. “Well excuse me for not knowing anything about this place I just ended up in!” Tearing your gaze away, you saw a cabin up ahead. It appeared abandoned, so there wasn’t any hope of seeing another person yet. Still, there may be something useful inside, so you approach.
Trying the knob, you found the lock jammed. The wood of the front door was rotting, some of it in splitters and the windows were shattered. With a few strong kicks, the door became dislodged and finally gave way beneath the pressure.
“You’re excused– hey! Tuna!” You didn’t even bother stopping the feline when he rushed into the abandoned cabin, sprinting after the few cans of tuna he spotted on an old table. At least he would get to eat.
You didn’t particularly care for canned fish that’s been sitting there for who knows how long. In practically a blink of the eye he had devoured three whole cans of the stuff and licked the remnants off of his whiskers.
“Okay, okay, since I feel so bad for you, and because you found these tuna cans, I’ll be your guide. That way, I don’t owe you nothin’ after this! Maybe one day, if you’re still around, you’ll see me ascend to the ranks among the archons and you can brag like I knew him! Isn’t Grim so cool and praise worthy? I might even remember you and accept your prayers! You can thank me now.”
At his smug expression, you squinted incredulously as he began walking down the path in the middle of the woods once more. Following hesitantly, thankful there was daylight and this seemed like a particularly nice forest, save for the very depths of it further away from the road that were dark due to the cover of leaves and branches above. However, the trees closest to you weren’t so dense, and the sunlight filtered through the thin foliage. The dirt road was wide, but slightly covered with scattered blades of grass and underbrush, as if no one had used it in a long while. Squirrel-like critters darted about in trees, strange fruits hung on low-branches, and foreign flowers sprouted alongside little ponds.
“I’ll thank you after an explanation and a little help. So, what’s this about gods?”
“Let’s see… I’ll put it so simple that even a baby can understand! There are seven nations, and each one has a god. These gods are super-powerful! I’m talking crazy-strong, like they can level mountains and raise the sea type of miracles!”
As he strolled beside you, his forked-tail swished back and forth. For now it seemed like he knew where he was going, so hopefully that was a good sign. Right now, you had no idea what to do or how to get home. However, if magic existed in this realm, then surely there would be some way to get back. There had to be, for your own peace of mind.
“Maybe if you pray to one, you’ll get an answer. But the chances of that are pretty much zero, because only idiots rely on the gods since they almost never answer. You’d have a better chance trying to actually meet one of them and try to talk to them in person, but good luck with that!”
As the road neared a cliff, you caught a glimpse of the scenery. It was a kingdom, a whole city that began right at the edge of a vast meadow. The rolling valley ended at a river, across a wide stone bridge where the city began. Miles and miles of cobblestone roads lined with two to three-story buildings, and rising above it all was a white palace with red conical roofs that pierced the very sky. It looked fantastical, like something straight out of a peculiar little story book, especially considering how unnaturally bright the flowers were and how there was the occasional mushroom as tall as a tree.
Never before in your entire life had you ever seen a single place like this. Some stupid naive little part of yourself had hoped that perhaps you were still in your world, but this was simply proof that tore that little shred of hope to bits. “What is this place…?”
He paused to scratch a spot behind his ear. “That’s the capital city of Heartslabyul. You see that big palace all the way over there? That’s where the god of fire lives. One day, I’m gonna live in a place even bigger, grander, than that! My worshippers will build, brick by brick, a towering temple that reaches the very heavens! It’ll make that palace look puny in comparison!”
Dumbfounded, you nearly get left behind in your stupor once the feline begins to walk down a rocky slope again. You follow, as Grim yammered on and on, “Fire is harsh, just like that place. Trust me, I tried staking a claim there, but I was kicked out! Can you believe it? Me! They just threw me out as if I were nothing! Anyways, I already forgot what you were looking for, but whatever it is, you’ll probably find something there––”
“A way home?” You reminded him, a tiny bit irked that he seemed to forget so easily. For such a haughty little beast with nothing to his name, he was very conceited.
“Ooh yeah, right. That. Gods have all this magic and wisdom from their years and stuff, so they gotta know something. But if I were a god, I wouldn’t answer you, to be honest.”
Grumpily you point out the obvious. This cat-like creature was far from the divine that you were currently picturing. “You’re not a god.”
Yowling in response, Grim shot back with irritation, “Yet! Not a god yet!” When he spat, a small puff of smoke and a spark of flames he tried to aim at the dirt caused his blue ear flames to flicker stronger until one stray flame popped like a hot scorching coal. It went flying directly at your face, and all you could do was react quickly enough to try and step back while your arms and hands covered your face.
However, no pain ever came. “How are you doing that?!”
“Doing what? And you need to watch it with––” When you began to lower your arms, you saw it. When you had shielded yourself, your knuckles had been against your cheek and so your palm was facing outward. Floating in your open palm, was that small spark that came from his ears and nearly burned you. Immediately your eyes widened, and the surprise didn’t end there. As if fluctuating with your shock, the fire became a small yet harsh monetary crackling burst that caused both you and the feline to yelp and stumble back in disbelief until your palms were normal once again.
“You big fat liar! You do know magic! Where’s your magestone?”
Seeing his gray fur stand on edge, you quickly answered, seemingly just as confused as he currently was. “I-I don’t, I swear! I don’t even have a wizardstone! That has never happened to me before! This, magic, stuff like that, talking cats, huge mushrooms, none of this is supposed to be real!”
“Magestone! Not wizardstone! M-A-G-E!”
“Same difference, what do I care?” You had to double-check your hands, wanting to trick yourself again into believing it was something that could be easily explained. Yet this didn't seem like that. This was something else entirely that didn’t make sense, it couldn't be explained. Not while you were still reeling and staring at your own two hands in utter disbelief. “What the hell was that…?”
Sniffing the air around you, Grim paced slowly around you as his whiskers twitched with each sniff. After several rounds circling you, he plopped down in front of you and peered up at you quizzically. “I really don’t smell a magestone on you… but you used my fire! It was blue! Everyone knows you can’t use magic without one! Wait a moment… this is perfect!” Immediately brightening up, the little creature gave a toothy grin as he declared, “From now on, you will be my servant! One day when I am a god, I will make you a demi-god! Everyone knows the great gods have divine or mystic servants of some kind! So you will be my henchman! Count yourself blessed, human.”
“What…?” For now you didn’t even want to touch anything, especially yourself. What if you just tapped something and it was set ablaze? Although you felt fine physically, you were not completely okay. Mentally your mind was scrambled with trying to comprehend everything going on and being said, and now you had the additional burden of accidentally burning everything you touched.
“Maybe it has to do with the fact that you aren’t from here, so this world’s rules don’t even apply to you… yeah, that’s it! This is great! Does this mean you can wield other elements? We should try! If it storms tonight, we’ll stand at the highest cliff and wait for lightning to strike!”
“Definitely not!” You screech in reply, currently trying to prevent yourself from panicking and having a destructive mental breakdown all at the same time. Keeping your arms away from your body and fingers spread apart, you tentatively try grabbing stones and sticks and blades of grass to test the ability and see if anything would be set ablaze. And yet, nothing happened, so you slowly began to relax, as much as was possible in that moment.
Grim watched with great intrigue, hoping, wishing, to see you burn something straight with your hands. However, when he saw not a single spark or sign of smoke, he sighed, “Don’t you realize the possibilities! A small chosen few can wield magic like that, and even then, it’s only one element! This means that you might be able to do more! We’ll be legendary, beating every foe we come across!”
“Woah, woah, woah, who said anything about beating foes?” Cutting off that idea right now before it would get out of hand. It had only been a few minutes, not even an hour, and even you could see that Grim was a handful. “I am no fighter. If I magically somehow have these weird abilities now, doesn’t mean I want to fight with them. Are you insane? The most I’ll do is like… instantly heat up my food or make a light in the dark. That’s it. Actually, that first one sounds pretty useful…”
Angrily throwing his paws up in exasperation while falling back on some patches of grass, he groaned, “Ugh, but that’s so boringggg! Where’s your creativity? You could become a god among gods!”
Choosing to ignore his less than enthusiastic response, you proceeded, drawing his attention back to something he recently mentioned. Awkwardly you grip your hands, twisting your wrist between your fingers, yet nothing hurts. Everything felt normal, as if you hadn’t just wielding fire a minute ago. “You said a god of fire resided over there in that city, right?”
“Yeah, you’ll fit right in with all those hot-headed fire-breathers now that you have a bit of magic.”
As the two of you neared the bottom of the cliff and approached a smaller section of the forest that would lead directly to the road that branched off into either a vast meadow or the gates of the kingdom, the world seemed to stop when a loud rumbling rang through the air. The birds ceased their singing songs and the squirrelish creatures paused their chittering chattering. The ground shook and in the far distance, miles and miles behind the palace where there looked to be nothing but untamed wilderness, balls of fire spewed forth from what you had thought were mountains but were actually volcanoes. Seeing the smoke pour out from the peak, you debated running right back to the beach which was in the opposite direction of the rupture in the earth.
While initially startled, Grim quickly relaxed and began his walking again just as the sounds of nature resumed their tune. As if by some miraculous work of magic, the volcano stopped its rumbling just as quickly as it began, and the smoke receded as well. Like a pot popping on a stovetop and simmering over with water, but its vapor and contents contained by a top, that’s how rapidly it started and ended. Grim proceeded to walk in front of you to lead the way. Sensing your question before you even voiced it, he called out over his shoulder,
“Don’t look so panicked, we’re not gonna die. That happens like once a week. It used to be more sparse but… well, like I said, all the humans in the kingdom are a buncha hotheads. Especially their king! Everyone knows the god of pyro has the worst temper of all the seven, that’s why the volcanoes go off when he’s all angry! All you gotta do is gather up the courage to ask him what you want to know, and pray that he doesn’t incinerate you where you stand.”
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Co-workers.
Top Male! Reader x Sub! Scara
Unreliable Narrator/Outsider's perspective, original female character, and male reader.
Cw: bottom scara & slight nsfw.
M/n and Scaramouche were polar opposites, nothing of them matches up but they did have one thing in common; Wanting to become the Employee of the year.
M/n was a bright handsome young man, always loyal and obedient (or so their boss thought), almost never missing a day at work. He was loud but generous, a fun guy to hang out but he could also have a serious side to him.
Meanwhile, Scara was a rather cold but pretty man, a quite intimidating figure in the office. Though he holds no authority of a higher figure, his face and cold tone was intimidating enough for anyone to look away, afraid to make him angry.
The only way they would "interact" was through their rivalry. Insane, right? That's what Celine thought when she first entered their department.
It really was a tiring job, not only did she do overtime often but she has to do it with those 2, making it even more struggling and painful.
She really wishes she could've been put in another department, to do overtime in peace at least.
She was tired and absolutely annoyed at both of them in the first year of her job but as another year passed by, she got used to it.
But it didn't mean that she didn't get tired of listening to their bickering, it could lead to “physical” fights if they go far enough which she herself had to stop..
She was just like their nanny, an underpaid one to be exact.
For those who are asking: No, the HR doesn't know a thing about this since they always fought at places where the security cameras couldn't see.
And none of the other employees decided to snitch on them— Let's just say that they were too afraid.
The amount of stress she gained was abnormal from just listening to them bickering!
She should get paid for doing such a job so torturous.
.
.
.
Celine was just doing some work peacefully, writing documents and other things an average worker with a minimum wage salary would do. Well, her peaceful and quiet atmosphere was short-lived when she suddenly heard a loud crash in the Janitor's closet.
Ah, fuck, they're at it again.
Celine walked towards the Janitor's closet and she was right— Inside, there was M/n on top of Scara, their clothes were slightly messy.
God, when will they ever stop fighting?
Celine just sighed, “What are you both doing? You should be doing your work, not fight. Stand up” Celine commanded, her voice sounded threatening but there was barely any intimidation in her voice.
As they both stood up, she saw red-blue marks on their skins.
Damn, how far did those bastards go? Celine was confused, they would always fight “Physically” but they were never badly injured.
As she was still rambling inside her head, M/n talked first.
“He started it first.”
The accusation made Scara's eyes widened as he yelled.
“WHAT!? NO I DIDN'T!” Scara responds with a loud yell, which made M/n smirk. “Yes you did, you dragged me here first, no?” He said calmly, meanwhile, Scara looked so angry and red— red from embarrassment, maybe.
Scara tries to respond back but he stays silent, he just walked right out of the Janitor's Closet with his ears and cheeks painted a light red.
He must've been embarrassed.
As Celine watched Scara walk out, M/n suddenly whispers; “Don't tell the HR or anyone about this, it was just a friendly fight, no worries.” M/n whispered but a small smirk was visible on his face as he too went out of the closet.
Well, AT LEAST M/n was slightly better than Scara in terms of personality.
Though, she often questions if their dynamic was healthy or not— They get into physical fights often, isn't that too extreme?
She lets out an exaggerated sigh as she too left the Janitor's closet to resume her work—
She wonders if they truly hate each other.
“Celine, they're fighting again...” Her colleague pointed out, it was in the middle of the day, it was only 1pm and this was the 3rd time today! Not to mention it was a goddamn Monday! Could her day just get any worse?
“I know, just let them be” She responds calmly, too tired of their bullshit as she continues writing a document.
“M/n is dragging scara somewhere—”
A slam could be heard from Celine's table as Celine immediately walked over to them, grabbing Scara's arm to pull him back.
“You will NOT fight in this office, fight elsewhere.” Celine said to M/n as she dragged Scara from M/n's grasp and dragged him back to his chair.
“Work, don't fight, this is an office.” Celine said as she left both Scara and M/n stunned.
“We're not fighting! I just wanted to talk to him privately—”
“Is it work related?”
That seemed to stun M/n as he went quiet.
“No...It isn't.” M/n says truthfully, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Find an appropriate time to do it, then. Office hours aren't supposed to be time for you both to start a petty fight” Celine was getting more and more tired of them, she was hoping this was the last time they'll fight for such petty reasons.
“Right, sorry..I won't do it again” M/n apologizes as Celine nods. “You too, Scara.” She also told him, Scara just silently nodded she finally went back to her seat in peace.
Hopefully this will be the last time they fight.
A few weeks have passed since then and one day, M/n didn't come to work which was unusual since he never missed any days of work. But the more unusual thing is that Scara didn't come to work either— This should've been an advantage for Scara but apparently, he too didn't come to work.
“Weird” Celine thought to herself, maybe it was just a simple coincidence.
Well, atleast she would have some peace for a day.
No, it was just a coincidence.
Every goddamn time one of them gets sick, the other doesn't come to work either.
It can't just be a mere coincidence, right?
Curiosity killed the cat as Celine finally decided to ask both of them why they don't come to work when the other was sick.
And all they answered was;
“I want to make the rivalry fair”
That didn't stop her curiousity at all!
It seems out of character for those two bastards who literally fight every goddamn time they even lay their eyes on each other.
But hey, at least Celine has the peace she always longed for on those days.
It was just a normal Friday night for Celine, overtime in the office again, stuck with those two bastards and some other colleagues which Celine thanked God for.
The good thing is she gets paid for this shit, which is a good thing but she secretly wishes for more pay— A fee for taking care of those delinquents who kept trying to bite into each other's necks.
It was always; “He started it first!” this or “He doesn't deserve to be employee of the year!” that, well turns out none of them were employee of the year, Celine was.
At least her efforts paid off but it was a headache of trying to comfort an upset M/n and an annoyed Scara...God, those two were like the Sun and the moon.
As Celine was rambling inside of her head, she didn't notice how the sky became darker. She glanced at the office computer and saw how it was already time for her to leave, she looked at the left and right sides of her to notice how both Scara and M/n were both gone.
Oh no, those fuckers were probably at it again.
She hurriedly tries to look for them in every nook and cranny, she couldn't find anyone to help her as she realized her other colleagues had already left as she panicked.
They could be in a massive fight, oh god. What if they try to kill each other and one of them tries to kill her too???
All those negative thoughts were making Celine's head spin, but she still tried to look for them despite her fear of possibly getting killed by one of those psychos.
She searched and searched and finally— She stood in front of the Men's bathroom, there's no way she's going to do this right? Celine was reconsidering her decision, will it be like those true crime documentaries where she'll get brutally killed in the bathroom!? This was the men's bathroom, what if someone saw her and thought she was a huge ass pervert?
All those thoughts kept running throughout her head, but she stopped to listen into the bathroom as she heard a...whimper?
There was definitely someone there.
She placed her ear next to the door, trying to hear what was happening inside.
She heard...sounds of pain? Moans? Groans?
Then, she heard a voice like Scara screaming and begging to do whatever the other person was doing to him.
“M/n..! S-stopngh—”
Oh my fucking God.
M/N WAS A MURDERER.
What if she barges in and gets killed too in the process?
What if M/n found out she was eavesdropping and was brutally murdered?
What if..
What if!?
All of those “What if” questions kept repeating inside of her head as if she was back in 5th grade studying about WH-Questions.
God, she didn't like Scara but she didn't want him dead...
There's no other choice but to barge in.
As Celine starts to bang on the door, trying to communicate with Scara by screaming— She stopped when M/n finally opened the door and to her surprise; He wasn't covered in blood, rather, he was covered in sweat and some sort of...liquid? Not to mention, his clothes were messy like it had just been put on.
Did...did she misunderstand the situation?
She was speechless and embarrassed, as M/n suddenly coughs and talks.
“Hey um..do you mind leaving us alone? I..I promise you I'm not a murderer”
That's something a murderer would say!
“And why should I?” Celine responds back, leaving M/n sweating nervously. He stepped aside to show a somewhat perfectly fine Scara but he too was drenched in sweat, his clothes were a mess though.
“Oh...”
Did Celine interrupt something?
“Y-yeah uh...Please leave us alone...I want to talk to him privately”
Oh...
“Yeah...uhm, sure. Sorry.” Celine apologized as she quickly took her leave in embarrassment, so she misunderstood everything!?
They looked like a mess, and they were drenched in sweat. Were they exercising?
What the hell were they doing in there?
All those thoughts were repeating again and again as she quickly packed up her bag and turned off the office lights.
As she passed the same men's Bathroom, she could've sworn she heard a loud moan.
She doesn't want to know what they're doing.
#sub character#top male reader#dom reader#genshin impact#genshin fanfic#drabbles#shorts#sub scaramouche#bottom scaramouche
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request: May I ask for headcanons or drabbles (whatever you find easiest) for how different pokehybrid characters react to their s/o (or even crush) reciprocating or initiating courting behaviours of their hybrid pokemon? Maybe crush is trying to drop hints or s/o is trying to make them feel loved.
mating behaviours.......
cw: fluff, slight sex mentions (nothing explicit), pokehybrid au,
characters: Larry, Ingo, Emmet, Cyrus, N
💼Staraptor Larry🏢
🍙 Staraptors mating behaviours were usually odd. Countless steep dives and manoeuvres during flights while making loud calls for a mate. Not exactly things humans really did for one another. Larry appreciated that. He did not like having to get all involved like that, despite his obvious avian features. It was simpler to ask someone out for coffee or lunch. Of course, that did not mean he was above such things. The urge to do those grand displays bothered him more often than he would like to admit, but he simply ignores it. That was his go-to strategy typically. Well, it was, until you handed him a blanket out of the blue one day.
🍙 His mind raced with many possibilities. What could this mean? It smelled of you. Had you been using it? It was soft. Perfect for a hybrids nest. He stood unmoving and staring forward with an empty gaze. Was this… Was this a mating gift? He could hardly believe such a thing. Him? Surely, there must have been better options out in Paldea. You insisted that he keep the blanket when he tried to return it to you. His heart raced. Keep it? Could he? That felt wrong. (He would.)
🍙 You felt a bit bewildered when you later got asked out on a date by Larry but accepted nonetheless. It seemed your gift had made him happier than you expected. You had just been worried about him staying warm during these colder months. There was a surprise when you saw in wedged into a nest on his bed on a later date. It was only then that you realised that he had taken your offer as a mating request. Well, at least it worked out for you in the end, you supposed. Larry adored that blanket, too.
▲Frosmoth Ingo▼
● The human world often proved itself to be one of many scents. Some of which terrified him off or lulled him in, depending on what unfortunate part of his insectoid brain it activated. Ingo had learnt to deal with them for the most part. He was not some mindless moth who barely had over a week to live and mate – He was part human. A smell was just a smell. He was lucky to have an actual sinus system rather than just using in antennae to sense pheromones like his pokemon counterparts. Which is why he felt so embarrassed after you greeted him on the street smelling of one of the sweetest scents that he would ever know. Something so pleasant that he knew if Emmet were near that he would beg for a piece of whatever it was.
● You were sweaty, which obviously should have counteracted the sweet scent, and he felt bewildered. He stood there with his four arms crossed and tilting his head. Even his antennae detected the pheromones in the air. His brain almost pleaded with him to receive your apparent call for him. You tilted your head when he stood there frozen and eyes staring into space. Tapping his shoulder lightly, you heard his wings rub together and make a squeaking sound. Ingo forced himself to calm down. You could not release a Frosmoth pheromone. It was a foolish thought. He softly removed your hand and began conversing normally. His own feelings should not be forced onto you, even if they were related to you.
● You both would laugh at it later when it turned out that you had actually been trying something that you had read online about humans making pheromones similar to horny Frosmoths after a workout. Ingo felt extra flustered by it. Then you made it worse by telling him that you had hoped it would have encouraged him to confess to you after you two were dating. His wing squeaks were almost as loud as his voice.
▽Galvantula Emmet△
○ Galvantulas had very unusual mating habits when compared to humans. Emmet was aware of many differences from what Ingo had told him. For one, human females did not tend to eat their mates. In fact, that was a crime, actually. Humans also did not weave webs laden with pheromones that alerted others that they were ready to mate. They did not do mating dances, either. Emmet, however, cared little for human traditions. In his brain, when he saw you, there was an urge to do a mating dance, so he did. And you sat bewildered by the giant spider man's movements.
○ Your completely silence and staring during his dance almost emboldened him. That meant you were interested, right? That was what female Galvantula did when they were consenting to a mating. But, before he could pounce on you, he recalled your more fragile form. He verrrry much did not want to do any harm to you, so he instead approached you carefully. Before he could ask you whether you were ready, you just tilted your head and asked him what that was. His heart broke. You did not understand. He ran away back to his web to mope, while you just remained confused by everything.
○ Ingo had to politely explain what Emmet was trying to initiate and essentially confess later when you asked him about it. Needless to say, you returned and talked it over with the saddened Galvantula hybrid. When you explain that you were just confused by it and not agreeing to a mating, he seemed more upset but calmed down when you assured him that you did have feelings for him. In the end, you were pulled into a web and cuddled by a fluffy spider. What more could anyone want?
🌌Houndoom Cyrus🛰
☄️ Cyrus was fully aware of his more uncivilised side's mating behaviours. A male and female joined up, usually while the female was in heat, and thus began a new pack together with the result pups. He, however, was raised as a human. Such behaviours were entirely beneath him. The Galactic Boss was not going to be driven by any desires. His goal was simple and plain. Momentary lapses in judgment could be corrected in the future. Which is why he tried so desperately to repress whatever feeling you had forced out of him by making a serving of your cooking for him.
☄️ The blue-haired man took the food, as he was raised to be polite. You then sat across from him at the table and smiled at him. Sharing a meal… He tried to ignore the ridiculous instincts that sought to push through his logical side. You had made him lunch and were eating it with him. It was a meeting between comrades. Nothing more. You were completely unaware of Houndoom mated behaviours. This was mere coincidence. He almost ground his teeth in frustration. Your cooking was good, too. Cyrus felt unbearably out of control. Soon, he made an excuse to depart and vanished to be alone for a few hours.
☄️ Later, when you miraculously managed to end up in a relationship with an emotionally constipated man, you ended up reading about Houndoom behaviours to try to better understand him. When you reached the part about food division among wild packs, the odd situation re-entered your mind. Oh. You had. A laugh left you at the realisation. Poor Cyrus must have seen it as a mating gesture. He did not appreciate your discovery of this.
🌿Zoroark N👑
🟢 Zoroark mating behaviour was similar to many other canid pokemon behaviours. Packs exist, which most consist of two parent Zoroarks and their many offspring. Every so often they made more social groups where a few came together to protect dens, but usually, it was two Zoroark. It was hard for humans to purposefully imitate any Zoroark mating behaviours, too. Zoroark hybrids, of course, had the unfortunate best of both worlds. Offering food was a sign of mating to Zoroarks but to humans it was a thing done even among friends. N had trouble navigating many human relationships at the best of times. At the worst, he felt conflicted by you wanting to cuddle up to him.
🟢 While humans did it all the time and Zoroarks could even do it amicably sometimes, he felt confused. Especially when you wanted to sleep beside him, too. Granted, you both were camping, but he felt confused by what all this meant. You laid almost with your back pressed against his as he debated what any of this could mean. It caused him so much confused that he could barely sleep that night, ironically ending up almost on guard over you. He politely tried speaking about it with you in the morning, desperately wanting to clear up whatever was going on.
🟢 You proceeded to become just as bewildered as him. Apparently, you had thought that you were being obvious that you liked him. He blinked a few times and just nodded. N liked you, too. This worked out. Less confusion. You were doing human mating tactics, and he now understood. The green-haired man was now your mate, rejoice. (Please explain to him what flirting is.)
#pokemon x reader#Ingo x reader#emmet x reader#cyrus x reader#n x reader#larry x reader#pokemon ingo x reader#pokemon emmet x reader#pokemon cyrus x reader#pokemon larry x reader#pokemon n x reader#ingo/reader#emmet/reader#larry/reader#cyrus/reader#n/reader#pokemon/reader
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(how) to hunt a hunter - sergei kravinoff x fem!reader
Summary: Kraven the Hunter was a myth equal to the Boogeyman. So the prestigious offer to hunt the legendary hunter sounded insane yet like a blast. Who were you as a Black Widow to say ‘no’ to that?
Word count: 4.5k
Warnings: blood, violence, sexual tension, language, consumption of alcohol
Author’s note: Don’t judge me for inserting another Black Widow character again. 🤣 I thought it’d be fun to not go the typical route of Sergei hunting you, but you hunting him. Seriously, what is up with this trope, guys?
I’m getting out of my hiatus which is rough and I want to just create something fun and not like a full-blown series. I apologize, I’m better with witty dialogue than fighting scenes, I’m terribly sorry. 😅
If you followed my we all have our secrets series, there’s a character who gets a slightly more prominent role in this one-shot than the mere mention.
You know, I’m getting Morbius vibes from the trailer, but I guess it’s going be fun? 🤷🏻♀️
Read me on AO3
You wiped the damp layer off the mirror and winced at what you saw.
Your battered reflection was staring back at you. You shook your head and even that movement of your wet hair stroking the side of your neck irritated the scrapes and bruises even further.
Needing to breathe through the pain, you exhaled through your mouth, leaning forward on your elbows against the edges of the wash basin.
Wrath was burning in your eyes when you glared at your reflection. The broken blood vessel of your eye was a sore reminder of the absolute failure of a mission.
The blue eyes of Sergei Kravinoff shone on the display of your laptop to reveal your target. You hummed before gazing through the binoculars on the roof of the hotel you to keep track of the infamous Kraven.
Killing him would certainly be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Who could even say that about themselves?
Your phone alerted you to a new call coming in. Almost casually you took it without glancing at the screen. Your eyes were glued to the outside surroundings.
“Kind of in the middle of something,” you said with a bored voice.
“So it was you who took the assignment?”
You sighed. Your wrist almost dropped the field glass at hearing Talia’s voice.
“Did I take it away from you?”
A mirthful chuckle reverberated through the loud speaker. “No, I’m not that desperate to face the Hunter.”
Your eyes glanced sideways at that tidbit of information. “Is that fear? Didn’t know that the infamous White Widow was afraid of anything.”
“Not fear. Just a boring survival instinct.”
A pause lingered in the air.
“What is it for you? The prestige? Something fun?”
“Maybe I like a challenge.”
Talia’s voice turned severe to warn you of the danger. “Trust me on this. This man is no joke. He’s going to enjoy tearing you apart.”
“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”
Talia exhaled. “I knew his father. That family isn’t something to be trifled with. But no, if I want to rupture my lung, I’d rather do it on my own terms. But I also know I can’t stop you if you set your mind to something. All I can offer you are my contacts on sight, wherever you are.”
“No, thank you.” You chuckled. “And don’t pretend like you don’t even know where I am.”
“What can I say? I can’t reveal all my secrets. Stubborn to a fault,” Talia grumbled under her breath. “But I didn’t tell you the whole truth. About Kraven. He’s more animal than man. An absolute savage, mark my words, dushka.” [darling]
“Warning accepted. And to answer your question. It’s a challenge. That’s why I’m doing it.”
“He’d be more than just a challenge.”
“I’m counting on it.”
The unpredictability of this target revealed itself soon enough when Kravinoff didn’t seem to have a single pattern. It was confounding. People had patterns to orient themselves in their daily lives.
You didn’t understand it.
So, the fact that he entered a hotel bar raised your suspicions even more. It wasn’t your ideal preference with the amount of exit strategies the location offered. With wary eyes, you strolled towards the bar, instantly recognizing the broad shoulders clothed in a white dress shirt.
You sighed. This was truly bad. But it wouldn’t be the first time your cover was blown before the job could even start. A curious glance towards the amount of glasses behind the barkeeper made you smirk though.
Kravinoff slightly turned his head the closer you got before you finally sat on the stool, without any space separating you two. If the target was aware of the oncoming hit, then it didn���t matter keeping up pretences.
He pulled the amber-filled tumbler to his lips. “You want to have a drink before we get started? It’s on me.” If the file didn’t give it away before, the accent certainly revealed his Russian heritage.
“Sure. I love to celebrate.” You pointed a finger in the air and motioned for the barkeeper with a “I’ll have what he’s having, neat. Keep the bottle.”
Kravinoff snorted, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That’s funny. Already certain of your victory?”
You watched the barkeeper pour two fingers into your glass before he wandered away. “Just enjoying myself during work.” You sipped a bit and instantly hummed from the smoky taste in your mouth.
Kravinoff raised an eyebrow. “You like?”
You shrugged. “You seem to have taste when it comes to certain refreshments.”
The man grunted at your sarcastic dig which satisfied you if you couldn’t use the moment of surprise to your advantage.
Kravinoff twirled his glass between his fingers. “Who sent you?” he inquired throatily.
“What? No foreplay?”
He slowly turned in his seat until his legs were spread and he was facing you head-on. His eyes were burning with intensity. In any other situation you would have deemed him beautiful in a gruff way. Kravinoff remained sullen and quiet, waiting for you to speak.
You rolled your eyes, knocking back your drink. “You’re no fun. Perhaps I intend to play with my prey before I have to kill it.”
His mouth twisted into a sinister smirk. “You think I’m your prey?” The last word sounded like he tasted something nasty on his tongue.
“Don’t insult me, pet.”
You furrowed your brows at the mention of that so-called term of endearment.
Kravinoff lazily laced his fingers together. “So, what are you? Regular mercenary? HYDRA agent? Talon?”
“Widow.”
Kravinoff tilted his head at that one word in intrigue. “Hmm. It’s an honor-”
Something akin to pride or satisfaction lingered in your stomach.
“-to kill you.”
You clenched your jaw at the self-assurance in his voice. “Well, in that case…” You dared to steal Kravinoff’s drink, just to one-up him for that arrogance of his.
“… give it your best shot, sweetheart.”
Before he could even attack you, you hit his larynx with the side of your hand.
Kravinoff omitted a pained grunt, shielding his throat. He jumped from his chair.
You broke his tumbler on the counter, slashing Kravinoff’s neck.
With an animalistic growl and burning eyes, he seized your neck, smashing your face against the counter. Something like a creak resounded underneath you with the force.
A whimper left your lips. You felt something sharp on your temple.
In one swift move, Kravinoff slid your head along the counter. Something wet trickled down the side of your face. You hissed at the sensation of glass shards against your skin.
You kneed the back of his knee, managing to subdue him and jump him until your legs wound around his neck, making him groan with your choking move.
Your balance shifted as Kravinoff tried to shake you off by grabbing your hips. Trying to take him by surprise and to throw him off his game, you jabbed your fingers into his eyeballs.
With a snarl, he rushed forward against the counter. You groaned in pain at the hardwood.
God, you were starting to hate this assignment.
You were starting to get used to Kravinoff’s burning eyes branding holes into you instead.
“Stop choking me.” There was something horrifying yet fascinating about his ocean blue eyes switching into amber-colored ones. The kind that hypnotized you and rendered you frozen.
“Kinda defeats the purpose of killing you,” you hissed as a retort. Although it certainly delighted you at seeing Kravinoff’s face getting red.
Almost in keeping you at suspense, he slowly yanked out a hunting knife from behind his back and making you grimace in return. There was something about his eyes that revealed what he wasn’t saying.
Seeing no way out of this without getting utterly mutilated by this hunter, you stretched out your arm behind you and grabbed a broken glass. You would learn to fight another day.
Kravinoff winced and eyed his shin darkly.
Without losing any time for him to fight back in retaliation, you pushed against his chest with your feet, making him fall back.
Knowing that the moment he would look up, you had already run.
“I heard you had an eventful day yesterday.”
The humorous statement drew a weary sigh from your lips. Your fingers clenched around the steering wheel at the mere reminder of the mission. Although you didn’t need it since there was nothing that could make you forget with every glance in the mirror or every movement of your muscles.
You inhaled deeply. “You know, it’s funny, when you were dead, the phone remained silent. Now I can’t get rid off you.”
“Allegedly dead. And don’t pretend. You crave our little talks.”
“You here to gloat?”
“Only when it’s warranted. I thought I told you he was dangerous. That’s on you—underestimating a man like him.”
You scoffed in derision. A man like him. “You’re probably right. At least I survived. Who else can say that?”
Your speaker phone remained silent.
You held your breath. “What’s wrong?”
“Kraven has a tendency to kill the people he sets his mind to. So the fact that you’re still alive worries me. He didn’t mention his death list, did he?”
Something moved uncomfortably in your stomach at the concept of an assassin following a list. You licked your lips, remembering how his eyes turned golden. A supernatural hunter trying to kill you wasn’t on your to-do list.
You parked your car in the garage of your safe house before you sped up the stairs.
“No, although there wasn’t a lot of time for talking, if you know what I mean.” You felt the civil conversation at the beginning would make the White Widow only insinuate how you had let your guard down, but you would disagree.
“I’m just saying, Kraven can find anyone, so you better be on your guard.”
A groan left your lips when you inspected the lock on your door, letting your head fall forward. “This isn’t happening,” you muttered in disbelief under your breath. “Got to run,” you called out.
“Don’t die,” Talia sang as a goodbye and half a reminder before hanging up.
You rolled your eyes. “Yes, thanks for the warning,” you grumbled to yourself before you inhaled through your nose in preparation. With your gun placed at the back of your belt and your Widow Bites switched on. Silently, you opened the door and pointed your wrist to the floor. Nothing, so far.
“I’m curious, how would you like to die?” you hollered through the apartment. “Any preferences? I should have asked the last time.” You studiously searched every room, knowing he was in here somewhere.
“How considerate,” Kraven’s sarcastic reply came closer than expected. “Not here to kill you.”
You scoffed loudly. “Yes, right. I’ll believe that when I see it,” you whispered.
Finally, you found him. With his back turned towards you and his arms behind his back, taking in his surroundings. You didn’t trust it one bit that someone like him would be vulnerable like that. Kraven’s figure in the kitchen almost made it seem to small with his dominating presence taking up all of the space. You reluctantly applauded that gall of his for invading your space like that and to make a surprise attack like that.
“You changed your shirt,” you observed quietly, taking in his casual shirt, despite there not being anything casual about him. “The other one too bloody for you?”
Humor was laced in his voice as he slowly turned around, sending you a daring glance. “Observant little spider. Just want to talk.”
The guffawing sound coming out of your throat awkwardly switched to a cough. “Sorry, that—I don’t know where that came from.”
“I’m curious what other sounds I can elicit from those lips.”
You furrowed your eyebrows at the blatant flirting. If that could be considered flirting since it felt more like a hit from a sledgehammer. Very direct and hard to get away from. Typical Russian.
You clenched your hand behind your back. Talia couldn’t fault you for staying on your guard. “And I’m wondering about your noises when I do this-”
You pointed your wrist at him, watching in satisfaction at the electric jolt shooting through his chest. Kraven groaned in pain before sending you a dark glare at your own insolence.
“I was trying to have a normal conversation. You know, trying something new. You make this really hard though.”
You frowned at his ability to talk or even standing upright as you sauntered over to a close cabinet. With calm movements, you attached a silencer to your gun, not needing any more unwanted guests.
“I’m not really interested in talking after our last conversation, you know-”
Your wind was knocked out of you when something pushed into you, making you crash to the floor. You gasped when the back of your head bumped against the wooden floor. Shaking your head, you sent him a thunderous expression. “Now that’s my kind of conversation,” you hissed before you swung your thighs around his neck, squeezing with all your might.
Kraven grunted, closing his eyes. With sudden movements, he stood up and the next thing you knew was that he had pushed you against the wall, making you groan from the sudden impact.
Between your legs, you felt him puff out in breaths, “You know, not that I’m complaining, but I think I’m starting to get used to that.”
His flirty tone of voice made you look down in reluctance to discover him humming contently between your thighs. Spite made you squeeze even tighter and punch against his shoulders with your elbows.
“Stop with your pointy elbows,” Kraven hissed in warning.
“Stop invading my safe house, Kraven svolotsch!” [scumbag]
Your eyes widened when Kraven moved backwards and threw you onto your back as you both fell to the floor. He seemed to have a thing for knocking the wind out of you.
“What did you just call me?” he exhaled next to you.
“You heard me,” you whispered in return, trying to catch your breath.
“You know, I do love our conversations,” Kraven murmured reverently.
“What do you want?” you finally asked in disappointment.
“Now, you want to talk?”
“Now I want you out,” you exhaled tiredly.
“You wound me, pet.”
“Stop calling me that.”
Kraven sighed, slowly sitting up. “Who paid you?”
You opened your eyes, uncertain about his intentions. “Then you’ll kill me?”
Kraven raised his eyebrows, almost like he couldn’t believe you even uttering those words to him. “One less Spider in this world would be a pity. Tell me their name and I’ll reimburse you for your troubles. This, I promise you.”
You inhaled deeply, not knowing if Kraven was the kind to keep his oaths. “Or what?”
“These people are going to kill you if you don't deliver, unless you’re interested in a third run?” Kraven raised his eyebrows in challenge. Probably for some reason sharing the same opinion as you.
“Maybe I haven’t decided yet,” you teased as you leaned on your arm while your hand reached for his thigh which sustained the injury during your last altercation.
Kraven narrowed his eyes with his tilting head in consideration. “Uh, what are you doing?” he whispered hoarsely.
You clenched your jaw. Something wasn’t right, you thought, as you let your fingernails stubbornly search for the cut on his leg.
Kraven swallowed before he cleared his throat. “Why are you stroking my leg? Is this some sort of Soviet seduction technique I didn’t know about?”
There wasn’t an injury. Your heart was racing in your chest at the implication of it.
“What are you?”
Silence enveloped you two. Kraven stared at you in contemplation. “Tit for tat, Spider.”
“Fine.” You rolled your eyes and stood up to stretch your legs. “I don’t know their name. It didn’t matter. He only called himself the Benefactor.”
“Mysterious,” Kraven grumbled behind you.
“Drink?”
“Without poison, if it’s possible.”
You turned your body to reveal the fakest smile you could muster for him. “Only for you, sweetheart.”
“Oh, you treat me too well,” Kraven purred while cocking his head. “So, how does he contact you?”
“Encrypted connection via messaging server.” You offered a shot of vodka for him to take.
“Tell him to meet.” Pushing the brown locks away from his face, he threw back his drink.
“Well,…” You mulled over his offer. “…there’s only one choice to make. How do you feel about dying?” you inquired, putting the glass to your lips.
You tapped your fingers against arm, waiting for the stop of the descent of the cargo elevator. All the while ignoring the stares of two other henchmen standing next to you.
Someone cleared their throat. “Are you like the real deal?”
You pursed your lips at the awkwardness of it all, being in the lair of the so-called Benefactor and being surrounded by fanboys. It was strange. Usually, you were used to people being terrified of your past. Like they couldn’t fathom the possibility of an assassin walking among them. Or that they’d rather didn’t see you being part of society.
“No, I just like dressing up,” you replied dryly, sending them a smirk over your shoulder. “You want me to turn on my batons?”
“Can we take a selfie?”
You considered that for a few seconds before shrugging. “Sure. You want to get the body bag too?”
“Is there really a body in there?”
“What can I say? Needed something large in size to fit the dude.”
Both seemed speechless for a second and made up their minds. “Neat. Come on, huddle together.”
You tilted your head, making a peace sign with your fingers before the camera made the sound of a snapshot. “Nice.”
“Thanks so much.”
You cleared your throat. “My pleasure. Until next time, fellas.” Your fingers made a saluting sign before the doors opened to signal your destination. “Got to deliver something,” you muttered before you wandered down the hallways of the complex.
You had to hand it to those villains. They certainly had the extravagant taste for the finer things in life such as a hidden lair for your base of operations. You turned the corner when the HQ became visible down a set of stairs. Judging by the set of computers and a few people strolling around, tending to their tasks.
In the center of the base a man stood. There was something about him that compelled your vigilance. You trusted your deepest instincts that told you that you were dealing with the Benefactor of all people.
You did a double-take towards the set of stairs, mumbling to yourself, “Huh, that’s a lot of stairs.”
Almost like your voice carried over to him, the man turned around, staring right at you. “Welcome. It’s an honor to be in the presence of a Black Widow.”
Your body tensed before you took a deep breath while carrying the body bag down the stairs, being mindful of every thunk as you descended.
“If you say so.” Your curious gaze met his. There was something about him that felt familiar. The man appeared in his late 60’s and wore an aviator jacket with the lapel lined with fur. “Have we met before?”
The Benefactor cleared his throat. “I don’t think so. Is that the package?”
You narrowed your eyes at the dismissal. “Depends. Are you the Benefactor?”
He smirked when he lowered his head. “Sometimes.”
You placed your hands on your waist, dropping the body bag fully to the floor. “Very cloak and dagger,” you mused. “And to answer to your question: no. I just carry my accessories in there. Really practical if you know what I mean.”
The staring between the Benefactor and you lingered far longer than you expected it would.
Then he smiled widely.
“You’re funny.”
“I haven’t been called that before,” you surmised before you dragged the bag closer to him and pulled down the zipper until it ended around his middle.
The Benefactor hummed curiously and leaned forward until he could really see him. “Hmmm, he looks really fresh,” he replied as an observation.
What?
“I’m sorry?”
“The injuries on his face, I mean. There were stories about him, you know. Is it true that he can regenerate?”
Was he trying to mount him on a wall, or something? Or what was it about this talk of admiration?
Your gaze wandered around in scepticism at this strange diversion. “What kind of supervillain are you?” you asked with a hoarse voice.
The Benefactor chuckled under his breath. “I wouldn’t call myself super, not yet. But I have plans.”
“Hmm, don’t we all.”
He clapped his hands together, like you had just rejuvenated his spirits. “How hard was it to kill him?”
You stared at him calmly, knowing what was about to happen. “I think you know the answer to that,” you whispered ominously.
“Yes, I think I do.” Something glimmered in his eyes which gave you the incentive to turn on your Batons with their red glare.
Kraven’s eyes opened.
Ever so dramatic, you thought, as you inwardly rolled your eyes.
You didn’t gave away any warning before you doused the whole facility into complete darkness. There were gasps around you from the sudden blackout. Instead you turned off your Batons and switched over to your blades.
Something growled in the dark before you saw those golden eyes, like some sort of harbinger.
“You wanted me. Now here I am,” Kraven hissed menacingly.
“There’s no need for violence. I just wanted to see what would happen.”
“Okay,” you exhaled loudly. “Now watch this happen,” you promised sinisterly and threw the first blade.
Someone shrieked in shock when the knife pierced their leg. “Oh my—Goddammit!”
“Finish this, Kraven. I’m starving.”
You heard something powering up. With every second passing, a mechanical sound echoed in the air before something set into place. You turned your head just when night vision goggles jerkily snapped in your direction.
You suppressed a shiver and opted for the (more) silent tactic, swinging the baton around before shooting electricity through it at the last second.
Someone grunted before they fell to the floor.
“We don’t have all day, by the way. What’s taking so long?” you hollered and jerked back when the thrusters of an exo-suit flew past. “What the hell?”
“I know what I’m doing,” Kraven exhaled, hovering in the air, somewhere near the ceiling. “You deal with your henchmen and I’ll take care of this one.”
The alarm deafened your ears before red lights pulsed rhythmically into the dark, giving you the opportunity to watch—wait a second—the Vulture pressing Kraven against the wall.
“Are you sure?”
“Is this concern I’m hearing?” Kraven growled inhumanly before wrestling against like a rabid animal, tearing with all his might against one of the wings.
“If you want to fight the Vulture, be my guest.” You turned your head and watched in suspension as a new group of henchmen ran inside.
“Oh hey, fanboys!” you called out, waving a hand in greeting at the familiar faces.
They looked uncertainly at each other before one whispered to the other, “I don’t want to fight the Black Widow.”
“If it’s any consolation, if Kraven hadn’t taken so long, we would’ve been out of here already, so…” You twirled your batons in the air. “I’m not really giving you a choice, fellas.”
~Kraven POV~
Kraven was done with this bird man. He didn't mind heights, but this Vulture was messing with his good nature. The thruster’s engine made spluttering noises the longer his fingers viciously tore at it.
“This is all just a big misunderstanding.”
Kraven sneered at the pilot. “Tell that to me a few days ago when you tried to have me killed. Sending a Widow after me? Seems pretty clear to me,” he hissed with venom in his voice.
“Let go of the wing and we’ll talk.”
“The time for conversations is over, ptashka.” Feeling the itching in his fingers, he yanked out his hunting knife, ready to strike and not caring that they would fall several meters to the ground. [birdie]
“Okay, fine.”
Kraven frowned in anger when he was instead pushed, making him land on all fours.
Vulture’s landing was a bit inept, with the wing's engine sputtering. His arms were raised.
“Cease fire for now?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Kraven exhaled unevenly, feeling wrath still bubbling under the surface, sending you an expression of aggravation over his shoulder. Hoping you would understand not to cross Vulture for now without speaking.
“Can’t make any promises for her though,” Kraven mentioned casually while pointing towards you, like he was discussing the weather.
Thankfully, you fastened your batons at your back again.
“It was an invitation,” Vulture explained vaguely. “A test if you will. To join our circle.”
“Recruitment?” Kraven was getting bored already - this wasn’t really tickling his fancy. He raised an eyebrow with a sneer. “Not interested in joining anyone’s club. I have my own agenda to follow. I'm not bending towards anyone’s rules.”
“We respect your … hunts if you will.”
“We?”
“A collection of people who have been wronged. Like-minded people such as yourself. We could use someone like you who loves the thrill of the hunt. Because that’s what you do, right? You absolutely live for it. To hunt your prey until it grows tired.”
Kraven hummed noncommittally. Not sure yet of this secret club. But this bird man certainly could appeal to his baser nature. “I’ve reached a decision.”
Vulture tilted his head in fascination, but didn’t reveal his eyes behind those goggles.
“I won’t kill you … yet. For drawing me out like that. But you have aggravated me with your little games by making me neglect my work.” With every sentence, Kraven took a step forward, needing to drive home that he could kill them for their impertinence. “So, I’m going to take off and then I’ll debate with myself if I should drop by in the future. Be thankful if I don’t.”
He turned away, knowing with absolute clarity that they wouldn’t be stopped.
“Not even curious?” Vulture called from behind him, trying to dangle one last temptation.
“Too busy.”
“Even for a spider?”
Kraven clenched his jaw in agitation as he stopped in his tracks. And there went wrath all over again. His gaze met yours.
And there he thought he wouldn’t have to kill anyone.
Kraven turned his body, unable to stop the clenching of his fists. “Come again?”
“Oh, not this one,” he said, waving a hand at you. “I wouldn’t dare cross a potential asset.”
“Not interested,” you negated with absolute certainty.
Vulture shook his head. “Not interested … too busy.” With careful movements he took off his night vision goggles. “I thought it could interest you to hunt a certain … Spiderman.”
Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman
#steph writes#watchtowerindistress#kraven the hunter x reader#kraven x reader#sergei kravinoff x reader#sergei kravinoff x you#aaron taylor johnson x reader#kraven x you#kraven the hunter x y/n#sergei kravinoff x y/n#kraven the hunter x you
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"Let me take care of you" | Ominis Gaunt x fem!Reader | Oneshot
Word count: 4.3k
Summary: Today felt like you were jinxed from the gods and everything went wrong, but fortunately you have a boyfriend who loves to take care of you.
Warnings: smut (with a tiny but of plot), aged up characters, slight Dominis, cunnilingus, bj, p in v, rough sex, minors dni
I'm back, baby! ❤️️
Felt inspired to write a short little smut story with Ominis. 🥵️
"Could you handle me" part 3 is still in the works, but it's been very slow unfortunately! I'm quite busy and can't say when it's finished, sorry!!!
Hopefully this will suffice for the time being!
~Mia
The metal gate opened with a squeaking noise and rattled back down, after you stepped into the cold air of the Undercroft.
It slightly soothed your headache and sore muscles, but not as much as seeing your boyfriend relaxing on a velvet couch with a tome in hand and his wand in the other.
Ominis' blonde hair was pulled back as always, but wasn't as neat as in the morning, when you saw him for only a fleeting kiss to the cheek. His milky blue eyes were floating in a way just above the book he was reading.
It was a little quirk of his - whenever he tried to concentrate, his view would shift so he wasn't "looking" directly at it, but instead tilted his head forward or to the side, letting his heightened senses take over.
This time he was concentrating on the whispers that ran through his body, when the tip of his wand hovered over the words of the page. He once explained it to you as pulsating whispers in the back of his head.
You could always listen to him the whole day, explaining to you how he sensed the world around him...or how he sensed you.
Sometimes he teased you about it, how you could never sneak up on him, because he'd smell you, before you'd even catch a glimpse of him. Or that he noticed the difference of your footsteps to every other student in Hogwarts.
He even once claimed he could feel your very distinctive magical aura. Across the whole castle and sometimes even beyond the walls. When he needed to feel close to you, he honed in on your magic and let himself get drowned in your feeling.
Your heart never fluttered so much, when he admitted this to you one tired evening, wrapped around each other's naked limbs, sweat still glistening on both of your skin from previous activities. He whispered it into your hair, which he showered with kisses, while your nose was pressed against his pale soft chest and breathed in his intoxicating scent.
Remembering this brought a soft blush to your cheeks as you made your way over to him. But then the pounding of your headache came rushing back, reminding you of the horrible day you just had. With a groan, you let yourself fall onto the couch next to the Slytherin.
"Hey, Ominis", you sighed, rubbing your temples gently.
He looked up, a worried expression on his face, as he turned to you.
"Tiring day, love?"
His voice was gentle and soft, knowing how sensitive you were to sounds when you were this exhausted. Fortunately his voice was like honey, smoothing out any discomfort you felt throughout the day.
You reached out for the back of your neck, rolling around your head, feeling your tense muscles underneath your fingers. You groaned once more before answering.
"That's understated. Merlin, I never had so much bad luck in one day. Woke up with pain in my limbs from sleeping in a wrong position all night, brewed utter rubbish in potions class and almost lost to Prewett in DADA. But how was your day? I hope it was better than mine..."
Ominis closed the tome on his lap while listening to you and put it away onto the small table in front of the couch, together with his wand. He leaned back, calm as ever.
"My day was rather uneventful. But it has become way better, now you're here."
His sweet lopsided grin triggered a similar response from your mouth. The back of his hand gently caressed your arm, slowly trailing up to your shoulder and neck, his thumb adding some pressure.
"May I take care of you, my little dove? Take away all this tension in your body?"
You sighed, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over you.
"Yes, please..." You whispered, feeling Ominis' expert fingers pushing down on a quite sore muscle right on the edge between neck and shoulder, releasing some of the tension in your body, making you lean into his touch.
He grinned, loving the way you always seemed to falter when he touched you just right. And he knew your body better than his own, understanding every single twitch and shiver as a signal where you needed him most.
You let your boyfriend move your body, so your back was facing him and he turned his full attention to you. His hands softly ran over your shoulders, your spine and down to your lower back.
"Gods, you're stiff as a board, darling."
You only replied in an exhausted sigh, also feeling a little annoyed by the fabric covering your aching body. Without you needing to even open your mouth, Ominis started untugging your shirt from your skirt, pulling it over your head and gently placing it over the backrest of the couch. Knowing you well, he took off your bra, too, placing it with the shirt.
You grabbed a pillow, hugging it tightly, feeling goosebump covering your bare skin from the cool air in the Undercroft.
Ominis warm hands found their way back to your soft skin and caressed it with so much tenderness, it almost melted your heart. He slowly worked his way over your tight muscles and knots, loosening them bit by bit. He knew when to put more pressure on sore spots and when to soften his touch again to avoid hurting you.
It was pure bliss.
You sighed and even moaned from the way he touched you so perfectly. The troubles of the day just washed away and it was as if there was only ever this moment right now.
Ominis gave your left shoulder a peck, moving over to the right and doing the same. Then a soft kiss to your spine. Then one higher, right on your neck.
"Mhh, Ominis..."
You felt the smile playing on his lips, when he placed another kiss right to your hairline.
"Are you feeling good, little dove?"
"Yesss~"
"Good." He hummed lazily, rubbing your back with a bit more intensity.
You didn't know what it was...maybe just the fact of his hands on your naked upper half, his gentle kisses or his scent engulfing you entirely...but you noticed the sudden shift in the air.
And just the thought of his hands moving towards the front or down to your thighs made you moan a little louder.
"Hm?"
Oh, his voice was a lot lower...a teasing tone mixed into it.
"Something the matter?"
"N-no..." You stuttered, taking in a sharp breath, when his fingers trailed over your sides, coming dangerously close to your chest.
"Are you sure? You know darling...if there's any other way I can help you...relax, one word and I'll do it."
He whispered those words close to your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive neck.
Your arm reached behind you, grabbing the back of the Slytherin's head, keeping him close as his lips connected to your burning skin.
"Oh, Ominis...mhhh...p-please..."
"Please what? Darling, you need to use your words or I can't help you."
You bit your lip, feeling heat traveling down between your legs and a different kind of knot forming in your lower stomach.
"Please, touch me more."
"More? Hm..."
His arms slowly wrapped themselves around your body, but only touching your stomach.
"Here?"
A small little whine escaped your lips and you knew he was playing with you. He always knew what you needed. Sometimes Ominis couldn't help himself enjoying how he had you wrapped around his fingers.
One of his large hands traveled up, cupping your breast and pressing each finger into it individually, making you breathe harder.
"Here? Or..."
You gasped when his other hand made it's way from your stomach down to your thigh, under your skirt and finally to your damp cotton underwear.
"...is this where you need me, love?"
"T-there..."
You shivered on your whole body and it took all of your strength not to crush your boyfriend's long delicate fingers, by pressing your thighs together. His warm body hugged your scorching hot back, his tongue licking up your pulse on your neck.
He then continued to whisper in a husky and hungry tone.
"Then why don't you lie down on your back? This way I'll make you feel even better."
Ominis held his arms around you in a way to support you when getting off of the couch, getting up himself. Somehow there was always an arm, a hand or a finger attached to you, as if not feeling you would break this connection he felt with you in those moments. It was endearing and arousing all the same.
And the way you already messed up his perfectly styled hair, was even more arousing.
You lied back down onto the old yet comfortable couch, already feeling way lighter than when you first came into this secret place of yours and the two Slytherin boys.
Ominis' porcelain hand ran over your side, over your thigh and back up, when he finally climbed over you, encasing you with his limbs. His lips hovered over yours, breathing you in for a moment, the hunger clearly visible in his face.
"You're so perfect, little dove."
The back of his hand stroked your cheek affectionately, before kissing you as soft as possible. It made your heart race and your cheeks blush in a deep red, that he could feel under his touch.
His hand trailed down to your ear, then your neck with a featherlight touch, fingertips outlining your collarbone. At last he held onto your side, revisiting all those previous places with his perfect lips, kissing, licking and sucking. Even a loving bite was part of it. He knew how much you loved getting marked by him and he knew exactly where to place them, hitting every sensitive spot and pulling out small moans and whimpers out of you.
You closed your eyes, biting your lower lips, muffling your noises a bit.
Finally his lips reached their destination, licking tiny little circles over your hardened nub, while one hand took care of the other.
"Ahhhh...Ominis~"
"Relax, darling. Just let me love you."
His affectioned words whispered right over your nipple, made it perk up even more, the air being so cold. He continued circling and even sucking on your nub, making your back arch and hips roll.
There was a place on your body growing with heat and feeling neglected, desperate for some kind of friction and Ominis' knee was too far away to take on that job.
A chuckle rang in your ears, making you look down to your boyfriend.
Ominis knew exactly what he was doing to you and found great enjoyment in pulling out those sweet reactions from you. You let your head fall back onto the pillow, feeling a little embarrassed, how easy it was for him to do so. He only needed to say a word, blow a kiss against your skin or smile a certain way and you instantly crumbled.
"Don't worry, darling..."
He said, licking at your other breast and kissing it.
"...I will take care of you."
His hand from your breast glided over your thigh, reaching around and his fingertips almost touching your bottom, but instead they pushed your leg up.
His kisses traveled lower and lower over your abdomen to right at the edge of your skirt. He moved the fabric up, inspecting the damp cloth covering your aching cunt.
Ominis clicked his tongue, smirking to himself, when his fingers got another feel of this wetness between your legs.
"So wet for me already...such a good girl."
Another blush creeped up into your face, probably spreading across your neck and shoulders already, hearing Ominis say those words.
His long slender fingers wrapped around the waistband of your panties and gently slid them down your legs. You lifted them, to help him get them off.
But instead of throwing them to the side, he held the fabric to his face, taking in a deep breath and you watched him with big eyes.
"Merlin, you smell divine."
Instantly more heat and slick pooled in between your folds and your muscles in your legs tensed up, shivering in response.
"So sweet and inviting, dove. I need to taste you..."
With the lacy fabric now tossed to the side, Ominis nestled himself right between your legs, pulling you closer to his mouth by your hips.
"So perfect..." You heard him mumble against your folds, his finger running over them and spreading them apart, making you gasp and clench for a moment.
Your mewls and moans only spurred the blonde on and his tongue darted out, lapping up the juices that had gathered there.
"Oh, oh my...ahhh~"
You weren't able to muffle your moans anymore by biting down on your lips. You were afraid of drawing blood, cause you'd bit harder and harder with the way Ominis handled you.
"Yes, darling...let me hear how good I make you feel."
The tip of his tongue licked up and down your slit, circling the hard pearl at the top, earning more sounds from you.
You held onto the pillow your head was laying on and your other hand reached out for the soft blonde hair.
Ominis sucked deliciously on your clit, and his fingers teased your entrance. He licked them for a moment, before letting the first digit push into you. It slid in so easily that he didn't have to wait to push in the second finger.
"So needy and desperate for me, love."
"Hah hah, y-yes. Just for you..."
You breathed, having trouble to calm down.
As his tongue continued its ministrations on your pearl, his fingers started to move in and out, sometimes curling his digits inside you to rub against this sensitive spot.
It made you clench around him, the pleasure already feeling too much for you to handle.
"Oh, fuck. Feels s' good~"
With your words starting to slur, Ominis knew you were getting lost in the pleasure he gave you. Also the way you clenched even tighter around his fingers, making him struggle to keep up his speed, told him everything he needed to know.
"Fuck...you're so tight, dove."
It was turning him on so much, he did unconsciously rub his hardened member, still trapped in his pants, against the couch.
He put your trembling legs over his shoulder, reaching even further into you.
Ominis groaned against your cunt, the vibration bringing you close to the edge.
He licked you relentlessly, his finger pumping in and out of you in a quickened speed. Meanwhile your fingers tangled into his hair started pulling on them, trying to hold onto anything.
"Please, let me taste you. Spill on to me, my darling and let me drink you up."
Those words sent you over the edge, screaming his name.
His finger immediately retreated, replacing them with his tongue, so he could lap up all the juices spilling out of you. You tasted so sweet against his tongue, he felt like just cumming from this alone.
Your hips bucked wildly against him, feeling oversensitive with his tongue still licking you. It almost hurt, yet it felt so good, dragging out your orgasm even further.
After a while he slowed down, placing soft kisses on your thighs and waiting for your tremors to subside. Your breathing and heartbeat returned to something closer to normal and you slumped into the couch.
Ominis gently put your legs back onto the cushions, using his fingers and tongue to clean his mouth and chin, still covered in your spill. He leaned down to you, kissing you long and deep, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
Sitting back up, his fingers opened up one button after the other of his beautiful white dress shirt, that clearly had some sweaty spots now after his incredible work.
Your eyes found their way to the very visible bulge that formed on his pants. You bit down your lip and wanted to reach out, helping Ominis to get out of them, but he noticed your movement, grabbing your wrist with a scaring precision, before you were able to grab the fabric.
He clicked his tongue, shaking his head.
"I am taking care of you, my dear. Just relax and watch the show. I know how much you like watching me get undressed."
You blushed and hummed in agreement.
The blonde got up from the couch, standing next to you, where you could easily watch him. And you did.
You were completely mesmerized by him stripping down to his underwear.
His skin was so fair and like porcelain, constellations of beauty marks littered around his arms, chest, stomach and even his legs. For some reason you loved the one right by his nipple and the group of three on the inner side of his right thigh. Maybe it was the fact that only you were allowed to see them like this. Only you knew every last spot of his moles, just like he knew every little dimple of your body. He memorized your body like a map of his favorite place. It sure was his favorite place.
He could imagine coming back to it forever. Your body was his home...where he felt safe, loved and understood.
Just how you felt with him. Your heart grew and overflowed with love for this man standing in front of you.
"You are gorgeous, Ominis."
The smile on his lips was so beautiful and he genuinely seemed happy to hear you being so entranced by his body.
"Why thank you, love."
The outline of his underwear and the wet spot told you just how much, Ominis got turned on, eating you out. It wasn't the first time he did and he did tell you it was one of his favorite things to do, still it always surprised you just how much it affected him.
And how good he was at it.
You couldn't help yourself but to let one hand rest on your chest, softly rubbing over your nipple and the other play with the lips between your legs.
He stepped closer, his fingers playing with the hem of his underwear. You gulped audibly, your eyes fluttering down to his bulge. Your mouth watered at the idea of tasting him too.
There was just something so arousing about it.
"Can I, please?"
You asked with almost an innocent tone to your voice. It made him groan and his dick clearly twitched underneath the fabric.
"If you ask so nicely, of course, dear."
Ominis finally pushed his underwear down, letting his erection spring free. It was leaking so much precum. You thought back, but couldn't remember if he was ever so hot and bothered for you.
His big hands wrapped around his cock, spreading the precum all over his length, pumping it a few times, before moving close enough to your mouth, so you could take him in.
You softly licked his tip first, from the slit up to the little hole that's still dripping. A few swirls around the red tip before you wrapped your lips around his length and bobbed your head down it, taking him deeper every other time.
Sinful moans and whimpers fell from the man, only causing your cunt to start dripping again, too and your fingers to circle your sensitive clit. Your moans that vibrated against his dick made it twitch wildly. It took everything in him not to cum into your mouth, even though you probably wouldn't even have minded, but Ominis still had other plans.
When you started to hollow your cheeks, sucking in his dick and grabbing his shaft and balls with your one hand, he had to push himself off of you. He was panting a lot, working himself back to reality, his dick glowing in a dangerous red.
"Fuck...love, you're too good. Merlin..."
You only giggled in response.
"This wasn't my plan, dear. This is still about me taking care of you."
"But I love making you feel good, too."
Ominis' chest shook with the soft chuckle from his lungs.
"You are an angel, dear. Don't worry about it...you will make me feel good, too, soon enough."
"Oh? What's on your mind, love?"
Ominis smirked and ran his hand over your knee, down your thigh and touching your hand, that was still working on your wet cunt. A finger was moving in and out, missing the way his fingers felt in there, as yours neither reached as far, nor filled you up so good. It made the man smile to feel you touching yourself.
"I guess you already know what's on my mind...seems to me you're all ready for me again, hm?"
He took your hand and lifted it to his mouth, licking your delicate fingers clean, while also pumping his dick slowly with his other hand. A breath hitched in your throat, feeling his tongue swirling around your fingers.
God, you loved this man.
Ominis climbed on top of you again, lifting your one leg over the backrest and holding the other with his hand. His erection already pressed against your wet folds, as he leaned down to kiss you passionately.
He moved against you, slicking his member with your juices.
Parting from your lips again, he swallowed thickly and furrowed his eyebrows, the desperation to feel you completely clearly written on his face.
"Are you ready, dove?"
"Y-yes. Please make me yours."
You didn't have to say it twice. He pushed his prick inside your entrance, making sure to take it slow as it was quite larger in size and girth than his fingers earlier. But he slipped in easily with all the slickness between the two of you.
A long low growl rumbled in his chest, when he bottomed out.
"Gods, you are so tight. So fucking perfect for me."
Whenever he cussed like that, you knew he was losing his self-control. He was always a gentleman and so eloquent, but in the bedroom, when your legs were wrapped around his waist, he always lost it.
You hummed in anticipation of his first slow thrust, but suddenly he pulled out and pounded his dick back into you, making you cry out.
"Fuck, I'm sorry." He whispered, his forehead leaning against yours. He could feel the creases on yours from the painful sound you just made.
"No, no." You immediately replied, taking his cheek into your hand.
"Do it again please..."
His eyes widened in surprise for a moment, but then he did as he was told, pulling out and quickly shoving his cock deep inside you again. This time, being prepared, your cry sounded more like one of pleasure, as it burned your insides so perfectly.
Ominis started a slow but reckless rhythm, pounding his cock into your tight cunt, making you mewl and whimper, your arms wrapping around his back, nails digging into his skin.
You felt so incredibly good for him, the sting of your nails only adding to this primal urge he felt deep in his abdomen, to break you apart with his cock.
"I love you, Ominis."
Those sweet, sweet words tore away any restraints he still had and he picked up his speed, lifting your leg higher, to go even deeper. Your cries got higher too with every thrust of his hips.
His cock pushed right against this perfect spot inside you, where you could only clench around him and moan even louder. His almost bruising strikes against it, so deep inside, were precise and calculated. Even with him losing his self-control, pleasuring you was just natural for him and by gods, you were a complete mess beneath him.
You edged closer and closer, the new knot in your stomach close to painful. Your boyfriend's name became a mantra, as if it was the only thing your mind knew anymore.
You were all surrounded by him, his wet skin slapping against you, his sweet scent engulfing you completely and his even sweeter sounds tickling your shoulder.
Ominis mouth just hung open, breathing hot against the crook of your neck, as he completely wrecked you with his speed and size. When his one hand came down to rub the perked little pearl right above your entrance, it pushed you right over.
You came with loud and lewd noises, your legs trembling, toes curling, your eyes rolling back into your skull and with a few more skillful thrusts, Ominis fell over the edge as well, emptying himself deep inside you.
You felt yourself float off of the earth...just complete bliss.
You held Ominis close, making him float with you, kissing him messily. Some kisses were more on the cheeks than on the lips, but he didn't mind. He just did the same.
Slowly but surely you two came back down, reality creeping its way back into your minds.
Carefully Ominis pulled out, leaving you feeling empty, but he instantly pulled you into him again, holding you close, as you two shuffled around, to make you lay on top of him. Your limbs wrapped around each other and Ominis peppered your head with kisses, his hands caressing your arms, while your head was close to his chest, listening to the calming beat of his heart.
"I love you, too."
You looked up at your Slytherin and just smiled. He looked so exhausted and still absolutely relaxed and happy.
"I hope you're feeling just as good as I am feeling now."
"Even better, love. Even better."
You whispered against his lips, giving him a long and loving kiss.
#ominis gaunt fanfiction#ominis gaunt#ominis gaunt x reader#ominis gaunt x y/n#ominis gaunt x you#ominis gaunt x mc#ominis x reader#ominis gaunt imagine#ominis gaunt smut#ominis gaunt fluff#ominis gaunt fic#ominis gaunt x fem!reader#hogwarts game#hogwarts#hogwarts legacy#justanotherfanfictionwriter#justanotherfanfictionwritermasterlist
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Intrigued With You
I ii iii iiii
Yandere! Pinocchio x Fem! Mechanic! Reader
Warnings: Slight mental breakdown (?), mention death of a minor character, vomit, implied depression, paranoia, mentioned violence and death, unhealthy coping methods, blood, I THINK implied toxic familial relationship(s), just to be safe.
This blog contains dark content.
Disclaimer: contents/lore may differ from the game.
Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog/interact with fics and fanart dni.
Idk the word count cuz I forgot to check lmao.
Overall story summary: Your uncle’s puppet takes a bit too much of an interest in you: in which your body finally gave out in this chapter.
==
It does not speak. Nor does it move, staying as still as a doll would. But it is not a doll, it is a puppet that was worked on for a great while. And it was that very puppet that was staring at you with glassy blue eyes. It reminds you of a curious cat, round features narrowing into confusion.
The puppet then slowly moves its head left to right, checking the surroundings. The sight it’s met with is a cluttered room, with puppet parts scattered throughout, and the smell of grease thick. Could it even smell? Feel the plushness of the chair it was currently resting in, or how ticklish the hair must be at the nape of its neck? Or was it as bleak as every other puppet before a personality was programmed into it, unless it was faithed to be scrapped?
Creak
The gears are turning too harsh inside it. Loud enough to hear, yet the body does not look like it’s on the verge of overheating. Everything comes to a halt once it turns its head forward, gaze landing on you once more.
Sweat forms and slides down your temple. Hot, cold, hot, cold – you feel both at once, a cool breeze biting at your exposed skin. Your clothes feel too hot, the scent of musk strong underneath your nose. Gulping down a scream, your wobbly legs manage to keep up. You resist the urge to fall to the floor like a disregarded ragdoll.
Your purpose is not done yet.
One step, another, and it takes you an odd number to get back to the table. Your hands grasp the edge of it, your legs weak and knees on the verge of knocking against each other. Breathe. Just. Breathe.
“Ah… It is a… it is a pleasure to met you. Can you understand me? Nod your head or use your voice, it doesn’t matter.” You sound steadier than you feel. Several seconds pass before the puppet nods its head, slowly and uncertain. You try to think of it as a newborn – something that barely came to ‘life’ – and like all the puppets, this one will be clumsy and will need a hand to hold before everything becomes natural to it.
But it won’t be your hand.
“Right. That’s good, excellent even.” You’re clapping lightly by reflex. Autopilot is taking over. “Now, I have a few things I need to… hm, what’s the word… test you on. However!”
Slowly, like a scared animal, you back away, turning your back towards it and making way towards the door. You look over your shoulder, neither a frown nor smile on your face. It feels like a line. Turning the doorknob, you talk again.
“I left the materials outside. Truthfully, I did not think you would come on. It wasn’t the first time I put in the ‘heart,’ and it was because of that I thought you would remain well, off. Do you mind waiting here? Just for a bit.”
You give it the illusion of choice. Regardless, you would still leave. But you would rather walk out calmly than run out like a mad man. The puppet doesn’t make any attempt to get up. Looks up at the ceiling before down at you again, the eyes far too innocent, yet blank. How could the two exist within it?
A sour-bitter taste starts to form in your mouth. Your glands feel tight. Slick.
The puppet nods its head after observing you for a bit. Your heart leaps with joy, but bursts with fright the moment you close the door with a “I’ll be right back.”
There is a tree several feet in front of your uncle’s personal workshop. Years ago, when you first joined hands with him, you would often sit underneath it. Hugged your parents by it. Read books using the trunk as a backrest. Kissed Howard underneath it.
Carve your names with a heart. And it is this same tree where you place a hand on the trunk to support yourself. The taste of bile was always bitter. And it was always slimy and uncomfortable whenever it builds up.
“Ugh”
Up goes your lunch, wheezing with every convulsion. Nails digging into the tree bark, the wood digs into your flesh, underneath the nails. You’re going to have splinters. More comes up and you’re barely breathing by the time your body decides it was enough.
“Fuck…,” heaving, you wipe your mouth with your sleeve. You should change, you think, supporting yourself with your free hand still on the tree. Everything feels heavy, and everything feels dizzy. You fucked up big time. Too big to giggle and say, ‘sorry uncle,’ and get away with it. You could have ruined the puppet.
The puppet could have also ruined you. In short, you fucked up. You should have kept your hands to yourself. Frustration at bay. Mind at ‘ease,’ no matter how forced it was. Fake it until you make it. Maybe you weren’t capable of that.
“Haah… fuck, why did I do that?” lifting your head, you look ahead – a tight street where it was annoying to get in. Twists and turns, hidden corners; a good place to hide something precious. But a horrible spot to run from. Especially when everything looked the same, from the buildings to even the stupid posters, both encouraging and protesting against the puppets.
Krat was starting to become a city of repetition. Dull.
Sluggishly, you look over your shoulder, to where the shop was behind you. The door was still closed. The puppet was probably – hopefully – inside. On that stupid red plush chair, surrounded by disregarded parts and paperwork that needed to be filled out. You wonder if it could read.
What would happen if you just… ran?
Your uncle would find you, certainly. Maybe he would kill you. Or send you back to your parents, disappointment in their eyes once they find out about your sudden appearance. Or maybe Lorenzini Venigni – a man you only met but once – would put you in debt one way or another?
He was your uncle’s friend, after all.
Maybe the puppet would go to find you and rip you apart. The puppet this, the puppet that, it’s now sitting ‘awake’ and ‘alive,’ in the workshop. You were with it alone. No-one would come running in this part of town.
You suddenly feel sick again.
--
“Mm, I’m sorry it took me so long.” You feel like a professor, with children’s books bundled up in your arms as you let the door shut closed. Two more bags hung by their handles on your arm. Sweaty and slightly out of breath, there’s strands of hair sticking to your face. Your ponytail was a mess, and you could smell the sweat.
Your eyes were dropping, and body felt heavy. It took effort to even stand.
The sun was barely setting, and your uncle still wasn’t back. You also took an hour running around town to buy these last minute ‘supplies.’
It jolts to life, lifting its head, tilting it next once it notices your exhausted state and scrambled appearance. Its gaze then lands on the items you’re carrying, like it didn’t notice them before. It probably didn’t. It probably thought you had left for good. And you wish you did.
“I just… mm, I just wanted to see if you could,” you draw out, placing everything on the table with a ‘plop.’ “If you could read. And maybe write. Of course, if you don’t want to, then by no means do you need to do these… things.”
Selecting a book at random, you flip through the thick pages and large word formats. It had pictures to go alongside it, showing what was taking place in the text. Does this count as making fun of it? Now that you think about it, was the puppet even programed to read…?
Hell, could it even write?
Heat creeps up your neck like ants the closer you get to the puppet. It shuffles in place, adjusting itself. Your fingers twitch when you hand the book over… only to look at its left arm. Or rather, where the left arm should be. There was nothing there. You look behind you to see the arm on the table.
Oh. Right. You forgot about that.
Everything felt heavy and unsteady.
“…” you could offer to read the book to it. But if you do, then won’t it look like you’re trying to bond with it? It could use the arm it has, surely, right? But what if it keeps dropping the book? Oh, and the writing, you’re not sure which hand –
“Okay, how about this? Let me push the table – can you hold this for a bit? – closer to you.” scuff marks are left behind as the table squeaks against the floor. The puppet merely looks on, almost as though it could tell you didn’t want its help. You should consider that a good thing. But it makes everything feel worse.
Your arms are strained but the table is close enough to where the puppet can lean on it without trouble. “Thank you,” you take the book from its grasp gently, “and, here we go. I’m going to place this here…”
You lay the book on the table. With your permission (a nod when it looks at you) the puppet traces the cover. Whether it could feel the texture, or read the words, something caught its attention. It blinks just like a human before looking at you again.
Insects crawl up your skin, eating away at your flesh. A cold sweat spreads throughout your body, hairs standing on edge. The bitterness is forming on your tongue again, foot tapping harshly and rapidly. It’s louder than your heartbeat, drumming in your ear as your blood rushes through every tunnel within.
Despite everything, you were starting to feel… drained past the point of simple tiredness.
“Are you able to read… Hm, do you know what ‘reading’ means?” The foot tapping increases the longer you speak to it. Stay near it. It nods its head, and you feel a tiny bit of relief. Because it means you don’t have to baby it completely. Hopefully not at all.
Your uncle could do all he wants.
… you said you were not going to hold its hand, but isn’t that what you’re doing? Your brain is starting to turn into mush. Maybe just once wouldn’t hurt. Right?
“Okay, good. Can you read this, please?”
Summer’s Fair, was the title of the book. It was a small book, but the pages were thick. A sun, wildflowers with a pretty woman in yellow were engraved on the cover. Leatherback, you think. Secondhand, used but greatly cared for and perhaps even loved by the pervious owner.
You almost feel bad for putting it to use like this. For this.
The puppet takes its time inspecting it. Gently yet clumsily, it goes through the pages, trying its best not to rip the pages. With a boyish and innocent appearance, you could almost find it cute. But you don’t, you can’t, and you won’t. Because it is a puppet, and puppets unnerve you.
But humans do too, these days. Shaking your head, you wait until it is done with its little field trip. It flips to the first page, and its attention is fully on the words written on it. Slowly, you walk away, and bring a stool over to sit near the table. Near, but not at. Because if you sat at the table, it would imply you were willing to do more than this.
The only thing stopping you from turning it off was the puppet itself. Ignoring the fact it resembled a young man, it was a puppet. Metal like material, or steel, or whatever it was made from. A human man would be stronger than you. But a full-sized puppet? You had even less of a chance of getting away if it decided it didn’t like what you were doing.
It could easily snap your neck if you even try to sneak behind it. And the arms – they look like they’re meant for combat. Maybe the puppet knows how to fight. It’s probably been programed into it. A nice little detail you were kept in the dark about if it was proven to be true.
What was the purpose of this puppet? Calling it ‘son,’ only to obsess over it. Creating it into an image you could not comprehend. A mockery of the dead. A mockery of the puppet itself.
His grief was understandable. You would feel the same if your child was taken away from you just like that. A child you didn’t spend time with yet loved with all your heart –
But this puppet was not his son. It would never be. To replace a human, a loved one was…
“… may I see what page you’re on?” Polite, and not as stiff as you thought you would sound. It slides the book over to you. It’s near the edge and after taking a glance, you push it back. It starts reading again, and you’re met with nothing but harsh silence. The ticking of the clock, the flipping of the pages, your heartbeat, the gears inside of it moving –
It’s all white noise. Like a buzzing fly, settling into your head. Everything feels fuzzy, but prickly too, poking at you. It stings. Teeth shattering pain that courses through your body. It’s deep inside, unable to soothe the pain. You rub your head with your fingers.
It does little to help. When you look at the puppet again, you notice that it is looking at you from the corner of its eye – not at the book. When its gaze meets yours, it quickly goes back to reading. Heart drops, head aches too much, harder to think. Now that you finally had some time to ‘rest,’ you realize how fatigued your body was.
You needed some fresh air.
Before the room fully turns black, the dots decorating your vision get larger. When was the last time you had a sip of water today? Or proper sleep? Not those thirty-minute naps you would take three times a day.
Your eyes were probably dark, and face unhealthy. Nap. Yes, you should take a nap.
But the puppet…
The puppet…
The…
…puppet…
… there’s a dull pain pounding at your head.
… did something fall?
… there’s a shuffling of clothes.
…. Your body feels a little less heavy now.
… but the surface against your head was still firm, more than human skin.
… when you finally manage to open your eyes, you’re met with the hazy sight of a boyish face. Pretty eyes that are a color they shouldn’t be. Too blue. The hair was too fluffy, but the freckles looked familiar. Just like the portrait hanging in your uncle’s house.
…. And it looked less frustrated, less lonely like that little boy waiting for his father to return home. You wish you could have met that little boy. That little boy he’s so overwhelmed by feelings of regret and grief drowning him in the dark depts of the ocean.
… Maybe if you met that little boy then…
No. Nothing would have changed. Because you did not have a purpose then. You did not know Krat until a year later, did not know how puppets worked or how the parts looked. You did not know who was who, and…
--
When he returned with Howard, there was blood on the floor.
There was blood on the floor, and your body was being cradled in the single arm of his masterpiece.
==
hate to be that person, but please reblog fanfiction and fanart in general. While i am always greateful that people comment and reblog my own stuff, it is a bit disheartening to see blogs who follow/interact who have only one or two posts that were dated from last year, or not having any reblogs or content from fandoms, especially the ones i am in interact. It is not a just 'me' problem. I have seen many bring this up too, and even had a few mutual deactivate because of it, and honestly, it is stuff like that that makes me want to not contuine running this account. But with all of the recent comments and even reblogs, it rekindled my inspriation.
However, i am not saying to do that on every fic. Just some, at the very least and often enough, if that makes sense.
But from here on out, if you ask to be tag (and don't have anything on your blog that relates to what i said above), or spam like my posts without even reblogging one or just commenting, then there is a higher chance of being blocked. leave a comment, reblog, interact with your favorite creators, not just me. It helps a lot.
I am extremely grateful and happy for the people who do comment and reblog (Insert heart, on laptop)
Tag list: @ijustreblogstuff-i-like @chiofany @quzbea @cute-angi @nealcaffrey2129 @connorsoddsock @rositabluemoon @shiro-from-cafeberry @sunnyhascome
#lies of p#lies of p x reader#lies of p pinocchio#yandere lies of p#yandere pinocchio x reader#pinocchio x reader
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That 'Realistic' Summoning act was done very amazingly, it all seems like summoning them is something you should do when you're smart and at the very end of your rope.
Is it alright if we ask how things differ if MC summons them?
Or if a Witch has MC with them for the summoning? (Either as a Friend Way or they Kidnapped them, whatever you feel like you would want to talk about :3
And if not that's fine too!
It's always a joy reading your stuff! )
Ooooh, I like the way you think! 😌
Why MC Can't Have Witch Friends
Building off of my Summoning Headcanons here.
Contents: MC has "Main Character Syndrome" and is always the exception to the rule... most of the time. Very LONG post (because I didn't want to post like three then deal with requests for all of the rest. My inbox still scares me lol)
Scenario: While training in more advanced magic with Solomon, MC made a normal witch friend as a study buddy/fellow intern! Comedy ensures.
~♡♡♡~
MC Summoning Lucifer
*it's 2am on a Wednesday but MC and their witch buddy are just now leaving their alchemy laboratory after cramming for another one of Solomon's tests. Much to their dismay, they see it's raining outside, with water just pelting the pavement outside the windows*
Witch: Seriously?? This wasn’t in the forecast this morning!
MC: *glares at the droplet-coated glass then glances down at the books in their hands* You gotta be kidding...! If I get these tomes wet, Solomon'll kill me...
Witch: That's true, but I mean it's not that bad. I think I know a spell or two that could... Wait, what are you doing...?
*the MC looks away from the phone they were furiously texting on as their friend was speaking*
MC: Hm? Oh! I'm just seeing if anyone can bring me an umbrella.
Witch: You would make someone drive all the way out here just for that...? 🤨
MC: *blinks* Huh? Drive? Oh no, that's not necessary- *their phone dings and they wave it triumphantly* Ah! There we go!
*the MC slides their phone into their pocket before pulling out a stick of chalk from their summoning supplies. Their friend watches with confusion as they begin to draw a circle on the ground, but it quickly escalates to full-blown panic the more that gets filled in*
Witch: Oh. My. Word. What do you think you're doing!?!
*MC looks up from their half completed Pride sigil just in time to see their friend diving for cover behind a stairwell*
MC: W-whoa, whoa, what's wrong???
Witch: *points at the sigil* If that's going to summon who I think it is, then what the HELL is wrong with you?? Are you trying to get us killed?! You don't even have an offering!!
*the MC looks utterly mystified as their buddy struggles to at least find their purifying salts*
MC: What? Killed?? Oh no, I know what I'm doing! I've done this hundreds of times, see just watch!
Witch: WHAT-
*the MC completes the sigil and it starts to glow bright blue against the tile floor. They get back to their feet as their friend screams in terror but rather than the rage-filled beast of Pride bursting forth from the ground, a frankly tired-looking man in barely-wrinkled silk pajamas pops into existence holding out a red umbrella...*
Lucifer: *grouchily narrows his baggy eyes at MC as they take the umbrella from his grasp* Should I even have to tell you to be more careful next time...?
MC: *frowns right back and brushes some lint off of his shoulder* I dunno, should I have to tell you to go to bed before midnight?
Lucifer: MC, don't start pushing me today...
*even though it should sound like a warning, Lucifer's voice seems more exhausted than anything, which softens the MC's expression considerably*
MC: Oh, Lu....
*they pull the haggered demon into their arms. running their fingers through his hair and earning a small grunt of satisfaction from him as he melts into their touch*
MC: Thank you for the umbrella, but you didn't have to bring it if you're this tired... Go get some rest, okay?
*Lucifer only grunts again before placing a sleepy kiss on the side of their head. He grumbles out something along the lines of, "Keep safe," before disappearing in a puff of white smoke and black feathers. While the MC inspects their newly acquired umbrella, they hear the sound of their friend scrambling out from behind the stairs, practically tripping over themselves trying to get back to their feet*
Witch: What thE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT!?!
MC Summoning Mammon
*MC and their witchy pal are in the kitchen of their shared apartment looking over some old notebooks that Solomon gave them, most of them holding transcribed stories or old conversations with the Demon Brothers. One story in particular has been especially... perplexing to them for about ten minutes now*
Witch: "-and then the secondborn trembled before the mighty thirdborn's trident as he brought it low upon his..." *glances at MC*
Witch: "his, uh..." MC?
MC: *sitting there, staring at the notepage with pursed lips*
Witch: MC, is something wrong?
MC: Wha- *they pull their eyes away from the neatly penned words then force a quick smile* Oh, no no. It's nothing. It just... this account feels a little off is all.
Witch: Really? Didn't Solomon say that he got it from one of the Demon Lords himself...?
MC: Yeah but... You know, I think we should get a second opinion on this. *they start looking for their summoning tools to find their chalk once again* I'm going to bring out Mammon.
Witch: What?? You want to call upon Mammon right now?! *their hand instinctively goes down to guard their wallet* But we could barely afford takeout last night!! 😫
MC: *frowns at them in confusion yet again* Uh... I know that? Mammon will eat leftovers as long as we heat it up right.
Witch: *jaw drops with a pop* Th-at... That wasn't what I meant...! I mean, how the heck are you going to pay his "entrance fee" with just 20 bucks to our name??
MC: *eyes widen sharply* Oh. My. God. You're absolutely right...
Witch: Thank you! Now if you just put the bag down-
MC: I totally forgot about Mammon's gift!!
Witch: His... his what?
MC: His gift!
*MC opens their backpack digs in past the zipper. After a few seconds, they pull up a small, cutesy keychain made with black beads and a crow-shaped pendant*
MC: I found this little thing while we were thrift shopping downtown. Isn't it just the cutest??
Witch: *stares at the dinky little trinket in their hand with growing concern* 😟 U-uh... It's uhm... Uh-
MC: Look, I know what you're thinking-
Witch: -Do you really??-
MC: -but don't worry! *they lift up their phone to show a similarly styled chain hanging from the case, but white instead of black*
MC: They had a matching pair! I know he's going to love it. I'll get him out here in just a second.
*the MC gets up with their chalk while their witch friend watches them go, muttering dejectedly*
Witch: Please don't tell me that actually works for you... How in the world does that actually work for you?? 😰
MC Summoning Levi
Witch: DAMMIT!!
*the shout of their witchy pal reverberates off the drabe apartment walls, sending MC out of their bedroom to investigate shortly after*
MC: What? What's wrong??
*they come over just in time to see their friend toss a ruined cloak onto the couch. The poor garment looks like it's been torn to pieces by a pack of animals, though their friend appears miraculously unscathed*
Witch: I ran into some of Solomon's missing hellhounds on the way home and had to use my cloak as a diversion. Just look what those little hellions did to it!!
*as their pal begins to mourn their favorite accessory, MC takes a couple long looks at it before waving their hand dismissively*
MC: Hey, don't worry about it. I've got a guy just for this!
Witch: A "guy"...? You know a tailor?
MC: Er... Well not exactly. Whenever I need something sewn up, I just call Leviathan.
Witch: ......
Witch: The...
Witch: The Grand Admiral of Hell's Royal Navy...
Witch: ... sews your clothes...?
MC: *blinks then flushes a bit* W-well not all of my clothes... But, you know, if I need something mended he usually lends a hand...
Witch: I didn't even know he could sew...
MC: Well, Levi's actually very talented in a lot of things! I'll even show you, just, uh...
Witch: Just... what? 🤨
MC: Well he's is pretty shy, so let me do most of the talking... And try not to look at him for too long, but also don't actively avoid looking at him either. And I know it's going to be hard, but try to keep up if he gets on one of his tangents because it really means a lot to him when people listen... Oh, and-!
Witch: What are you, his therapist??
MC: *shrugs* Kinda. I'll go get the chalk.
MC Summoning Satan
*MC and their witchy pal are in an out of the way bookstore specifically for esoteric relics and forbidden magical collections. It's an amazing little place, but it's chock full of shelves upon shelves of impossible to decipher titles and mindbending illustrations that have left the two feeling hopelessly lost...*
Witch: This is taking forever... How the hell does Solomon expect us to find anything in here??
*they look down at the small list of books their less-than-prescient mentor asked for, most of which with titles like "Cgfthgnm'o'th" or "Ghatanothoa"*
Witch: I mean, is this an errand or a C-tier fetch quest...??
MC: Ugh!... I swear Solomon knows that I'm no good in these places... Let's see.
*MC sets their summoning supplies down on a nearby table to look for their chalk and, for once, their friend actually seems kind of relieved to have the short-cut...*
Witch: Are you calling for Lucifer again...?
MC: Hm? Oh no, I think I've heard Satan talk about this place before, so maybe-
Witch: 😳 Hold on. Do... you mean that Satan?? THE Satan???
MC: *blinks* Uh... Yeah? Is there another one or...?
Witch: "Is there another one?" Are you for real?? How do I look? Is this presentable?? Shit, is it true that he hates the color red?!
MC: Where did you...? I mean, he likes green, I guess but I don't see-
Witch: WAIT, don't bring him out yet, we need a cat!! I think the café down the street attracts a few strays. I'll go grab one and come right back!!
MC: *holds up their hands to try and keep their friend from running past them* Hold on, we don't need any of that! What has gotten-??
*the MC yelps as the witch grabs them by the front of their shirt and grips the fabric tight, a burning look of determination setting their eyes ablaze*
Witch: MC, DO NOT ruin this for me!! Do you have any idea how well-connected that guy is? How many covens would kill just have someone around who's on his good side?? If this is the first impression I'm going to make, it's going to be a damn good one!
*they let the MC go only to snatch their summoning bag from the table beside them and stuff it under their arm*
Witch: I'll be taking this and you stay right here! I'll bring everything back after I go change into something green and find a spare cat!!
*as they watch their pal sprint out the door with what was effectively their only means of physical communication with the boys, the MC takes a seat at a dusty table and rests their elbows on the surface*
MC: I guess Solomon is getting those books a little late now... 😕
MC Summoning Asmo
MC: Ow!!
*the MC and their witch friend have JUST finished washing up Solomon's experiment beakers and half-eaten plates from his lab, the latter of which look so disgusting you could mistake them for old petri dishes. As the MC dries off the last glass and goes to slide it in place, they miscalculate their finger position and jam their nail right into a stack of ceramic plates*
*they pull their hand back out and they're previously trimmed nail is now broken into a sharp, jagged mess...*
MC: Oh dammit...! I just broke a nail...
*while they inspect the damage, their buddy slides next to them to look at it over their shoulder*
Witch: Huh...
Witch: Let me guess, you're going to call on ASMODEUS HIMSELF to fix it, aren't you? 🙄
MC: What?? No, of course not! I have my own kit for this, thank you very much. 😠
*their friend's eyebrows raise, almost like their impressed that MC is showing at least a modicum of self-restraint*
Witch: Well, well. I didn't think you woul-
MC: Though it IS almost time for him to give me my bi-monthly skin detox treatment so... 🤔
Witch: Are you kidding me??? 🤬
MC Summoning Beel
*the MC and their witching buddy FINALLY have a day off from Solomon's constant pestering lessons. While they discuss their upcoming plans, the news of a big human world fair in the area comes up. Though their friend seems less than impressed, MC immediately latches onto the idea for uh... reasons.*
MC: Okay, okay, I know this how this is gonna sound, buuuut we should invite Beelzebub to go to the fair with us!! 😁
Witch: ....
MC: 😀 .... So, yeah? Is that a yes?
Witch: .... MC. I swear, even you have to know why that's a bad idea... No mortal event is ever going be stocked enough to keep him from eating us-
MC: *GASP* WHAT??
MC: Beel? Eat US?? In a place with that many vendors, that'll be so unlikely. I'm sure we'll be safe!
Witch: Annnnd I just noticed that you left out the part where you're supposed to say, "Oh, he would never do that" to reassure me....
MC: Oh come on, I'm positive that he wouldn’t want to eat us, at least. He's a big softy and he really tries to keep himself in check...
Witch: I fail to see how that makes things any better...
MC: It will. Trust me. Look, Lucifer can send me enough pocket money to keep Beel fed while we're there. Pleeease, just give it a try...!
MC: I've been telling him about cotton candy and funnel cakes for years! He'll be so excited to come with so pleeeaaaase? 🥺
Witch: I think I'm starting to see why they keep caving in to you so quickly.... 😑
MC Summoning Belphie
*it's been several long nights in the shared apartment as MC and their witchy pal have been cramming for another one of Solomon's infamous tests... Despite having the test in the morning, both have long let time get away from them and neither were particularly well-rested to start with...*
MC: Shit, it's almost 2 again...
Witch: Seriously...? *checks the closest clock then snaps their book shut* Great... I think know a restorative spell or two, but there's not a lot of time to... *they stop as they see a sleepy MC reaching for their goddamn chalk again*
Witch: ... Uh, MC?
MC: Mmm...? *they blink their drooping eyes and yawn* O-oh, sorry... uh. Don’t worry about me... I got a guy for this too...
Witch: *frowns* You've got a...?
Witch: 😳 ... No... No, you can't be serious... You are NOT thinking of who I'm thinking of right now, right? Right??
MC: *rubs their eyes* Eh? Um... no? Maybe?
Witch: Do NOT summon Belphegor! No one ever summons Belphegor!! Especially to go to sleep at night!!
MC: Huh...? 😕 Why not? Isn't sleep what he's good at...?
Witch: Yeah sure, if you're looking to never wake up again! Drink some sleepy time tea or something, but keep Belphegor out if it! You're going to get yourself killed!!
MC: What do you...? *they blink then, suddenly, it actually seems to piece together for them for once* Oh. Oh! You must mean that Belphegor...
MC: Don't worry, he promised to never kill me again, so I'm safe.
Witch: That's not the-wait did you just say "again?"
MC: I'm going to bed now. Goodnight...
*the MC gets up and starts back towards their room without answering the question and their roommate calls after them*
Witch: Don't bring him or I'm taking selfies at your funeral, you hear??
~The Next Morning~
*their witch friend steps out into the kitchen, completely drained after having some AWFUL dreams the night before, just to see a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed MC in the middle of making breakfast. Their newly refreshed look is so radiant that they're practically glowing with health*
MC: Good morning~!! Would you like some pancakes? 😊
Witch: ..... I'm trying so hard not to hate you right now.....
MC: H-huh? Why?? 😨
MC Summoning Diavolo??
Witch: So... Could you do it?
*MC and their witch buddy are sitting on the floor of their living room with MC's summoning equipment in front of them. Both of them have their arms crossed as they run through their hypothetical*
MC: I mean, maybe I could... But I dunno. I not even sure where to start...
Witch: MC. You are probably the most successful summoner I've ever seen. I say just go with your gut.
MC: Oh? My gut, huh...? 🤔
*after some quiet reflection, MC grabs their chalk and begins to sketch out a new circle, making it a much larger one than all the rest*
MC: Let's see... we'd need a sigil so.
*they swipe in three long slash marks, then fill them out until look like taloned legs, humming as they go*
Witch: *frowns* Uh... MC? Isn't that just the corporate logo for the Three-Legged Crow?
MC: Yep! I figured since Dia owns the place, it should probably work. 😁
Witch: *blinks furiously* Wait, he owns what-
MC: Forget I said that. Anyway. Now we need the offering! Uhhhmm... *they tap their chin before breaking into an excited grin*
MC: I'll go get some McDonald's!
Witch: What???
MC: Dia loves human world fast food when he can have it, so that ought to work! *they start to gather their things to go out, but stop just before the door*
MC: Oh! While I'm gone, look around my room for my copy of Dark Persona 4! Levi says he's been getting into that series a lot.
Witch: He plays video games too???
MC: Only when he can! Just trust me, I'll be right back! 😁
~Twenty minutes and three orders of cheeseburgers later~
MC: Okay! Almost ready!
*they take a proud step back from their work of ritualistically arranging cheeseburgers, french fries, and ketchup packets on the makeshift summoning circle and... it sure is something. Just as their witch friend is starting to lose all hope that this idea could ever hold water, the MC goes on to add the final touch by plopping the Devil Station game right in the middle of it all. They take one BIG step back and....*
*...nothing happens*
Witch: .... Huh. Well. I guess there's stuff even you can't do-
*the markings on the ground suddenly radiate a light brighter than the sun that gets snuffed out by the growing shadows in the room. It's as if every ounce of darkness surrounding them is attempting to funnel its way towards circle's center, swirling in place like an inky black portal to the hellish depths below. Just as the MC and their friend dive behind their couch for protection, the darkness suddenly dissipates and everything, surprisingly, returns to normal*
Witch: *shakily looks at the wrecked room from behind the couch cushions, pale as could be* ... Wh-wha... what... the fuuu...
*MC's phone starts going off, startling them both, but they pick it up anyway*
MC: H-ello...? O-oh Dia!!
MC: No, no I'm fine there isn't any emergency!...
MC: No, please stay put!! I was just messing around with a friend, but I'll be way more careful going forward!
MC: .... And what would Barbs say?
MC: .... Yeah, I didn't think so, but I'll come back to see you soon, okay?
Witch: *springs to their feet reaching PEAK frustration with it all*
Witch: SERIOUSLY, WHAT EVEN ARE YOU?!?
MC Summoning... Barbatos...?
Witch: MC. This is an emergency.
MC: Yeah but-
Witch: He'll be here any minute. We're screwed!!
MC: Maybe it won't be so bad-!
Witch: I saw him buying JELLYFISH yesterday, MC! JELLYFISH!!!
MC: ..... 😨 What if we disconnect the stove???
Witch: MC!!!
*their friend pulls out their own summoning chalk and shoves it into MC's hands, clasping them closed in a desperate plea for help*
Witch: We have to some kind of meal plan in place or Solomon is going to make us dinner tonight. You know and I know that there's only ONE person who can keep him out of the kitchen at this point. MC, you have to summon Barbatos!!
MC: B-but...! But-!!
*their friend doesn't wait for them to finish before pulling them down onto the ground and making enough room for them to start drawing*
Witch: THERE'S NO TIME!! Do it, MC!! Do it!!
*they lean back to watch as the MC rests th summoning chalk on the ground, but rather than drawing their hand remains perfectly still...*
Witch: MC? What are you waiting for??
*their friend leans over to get a good look at their face, and they see that the MC's forehead is already glistening with beads of sweat... Their hand goes from still, to trembling slightly when they attempt to make their first stroke... only for their grip to snap the chalk in half completely. The MC stares quietly at their hand for a few moments, before setting everything down and pulling out their cellphone instead*
MC: Y-you know, I think I'm just going to call him.... 😥
*as their witch friend watches the being who hugged Lucifer, tamed Belphegor, and (unofficially) summoned the Demon Prince himself, chicken out of summoning this one last demon they know, a single question burns deep down in the pit of their stomach*
"Just how scary is that butler...???" 😰
#favoritism.#the answer is favoritism#i almost want to make this witch an official OC#the comedic potential is truly endless#long post#even for me#obey me#obey me shall we date#shall-we-date-obey-me#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios#obey me ask#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos
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Glorious Masquerade Dialogue Comparison
Originally Rollo refers to Trein as “Mozus-sensei,” using Trein’s first name, but this was changed in the English-language adaptation to “Professor Trein” instead.
Both Sebek and Malleus had the word “humans” removed from their dialogue in two different places, changed to “people” for Sebek and dropped from Malleus’ dialogue entirely.
The English-language adaptation has a history of removing the word “egg” from the game.
Rather than dropping it completely (as in the main story) it was changed to “fledgling" here, much like Spectral Soiree. (More here: The EN Server's Missing Eggs)
While EN has technically localized the in-game currency "madol" into “thaumarks,” with the Port Fest event EN received an all-new form of currency that doesn’t exist in the original game: sorcents!
They returned in Glorious Masquerade (More here: Port Fest Dialogue Comparison)
Malleus never refers to the prefect as a friend, which may be significant, as the word seems to be of some importance at NRC.
If you were curious if Idia really did refer to Riddle as “Tiny Titan” in the original game, he did!
He also used his nickname for Riddle, which EN will sometimes translate as “Instructor” and sometimes as “Taskmaster,” but this time it was dropped.
Rollo’s Unique Magic
Pronunciation: Dark Fire
Meaning: Smoldering Desire
EN: Darkfire
(More here: Unique Magic (Signature Spell) Compilation: Pronunciation vs. Meaning vs. EN Adaptation)
Idia generally talks with a stutter in the original game, which was removed from the English-language adaptation of Glorious Masquerade.
I thought this might just be a language limitation, but his stutter has been accurately recreated on EN in other places.
This resulted in lines like “Blue handkerchiefs…ah, ah, th-th-the glass movies seem to be less simple than these…” becoming “Plain blue handkerchiefs? Um, no offense, but these look way more basic than those glass mobiles…” and “B-b-b-but then…” becoming “Okay, but, like…,” making the EN adaptation of Idia maybe sound more assertive than the original?
I have recently seen theories that English-language translation for the game might be separated into multiple teams, which seems logical.
It is possible that the localization team assigned to events like Glorious Masquerade is different from the team that did Idia’s vignettes, which would explain the inconsistency in his speech patterns.
It would also explain what happened to Deuce’s unique magic:
In the original game Azul recites the exact same spell Deuce did in Book 5 in order to summon Deuce's magic, but the spell used by EN- Deuce is not the same as the one used by EN-Azul.
The meaning is the same—there is no big difference between “It’s payback time” and “It’s time to pay up!”—it is just different phrasing, which makes sense if the translation team assigned to Book 5 of the main story is different from the team who did Glorious Masquerade.
If the teams are separated by vignettes / events / main story it would also explain why the egg references are getting removed from the main story while being translated into “fledgling” in Halloween events.
But this is all just conjecture based on the curious continuity :>
An interesting language hurdle arose at the end of the game when Malleus addressed the gathered visitors at the ball by the “omae” form of “you”.
The audience responds with discomfort and Jamil explains, “Ordinary students don’t address peers they are meeting for the first time as ‘omae-tachi’…”
(Being sensitive to social situations is a part of Jamil’s character, explained in more depth in his third birthday vignette).
Since the English language doesn’t have varying forms of “you,” this comment was removed.
Much like how the lyrics to the song “Piece of My World” were removed from Book 5, the lyrics to Malleus’ song “Wish Resound” were also removed from the English-adaptation of the game.
But whereas Book 5 is voiced Glorious Masquerade is not, so removing the text box entirely would have resulted in Malleus simply standing and staring in silence.
To compensate, EN has put “*singing*” in the text box.
While likely a licensing issue and therefore inevitable, it is kind of unfortunate as, during the song, there are repeated cuts back to Rollo’s reactions (Lyric translation can be very complex, this is just one possible interpretation of what the lyrics might sound like in English!)
And Malleus makes a point of commenting on the importance of the lyrics (that EN cannot see) that seem to be resonating with Rollo.
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Only Pretending #8
Word count: 3k
Author's note: Just one more to go! Oh, wow, we're almost there, aren't we? My first long, multi-chapter fic for any of Gwen's characters. I'm so grateful to @anti-bright-places (@pro-weems-places) for requesting this one. Thank you so much <3
Also, special thanks for @alder-saan and their much-needed advice, and for reminding me of greek fire ;)
Well, maybe kissing wasn’t the correct description. Rather, she was being kissed, quite enthusiastically, by Morticia Addams.
You were shocked into motionless; the air in your lungs disappeared and left you feeling faint. Then, in a sure, rapid movement, Larissa shoved the woman away.
“What do think you are doing?” her voice was thunderous, dark and threatening like clouds amounting to a storm.
“I could ask the same,” yours was much weaker as you leant against the door frame, legs suddenly wobbly.
“Argh, you again? Why must you always be around?” for the first time you heard annoyance from Morticia. It was oddly refreshing, if utterly confusing.
“What do you mean? I’m almost never-“
“Because she’s my partner, Morticia, stop acting like she’s anything else,” Larissa cut you off. Rude… but you could forgive it since your belly fluttered with her calling you her partner — and it being true.
“Oh, please, we both know she is little more than another one of your mistakes, Larissa. Stop being stubborn and give us another chance,” the fire with which Morticia started died down into a tired plead.
What did she mean by “another chance”? Were they an item any time before? Was this why Morticia instantly disliked you and kept trying to break you apart?
“I wasn’t the one that made this impossible, Morticia,” Larissa sounded almost as tired and walked towards you with light dimming in her eyes. When she was next to you, her arm came around your shoulders and helped you up from the doorframe and into a half embrace. There was the tiniest sparkle when she looked at you from above and pressed a small smile to your forehead. “You ruined this for all of us. It is more than time for you to understand it and move on.”
Larissa only gestured with her head to the side before you were leaving. Her arm still around your shoulder calmed you and helped you breathe again normally and walk with her. For a moment, you thought you’d go upstairs, but as she made her way through the outskirts of the festivities, you found yourself being led to the back garden.
It was a bright night. The crescent moon bathed everything in dull blue light, and you could make out white stone paths through the several rows of probably deadly plants. To the side, in a clearing, sat an iron table and chairs, much like the set from the front, but a few meters after there was a double swing, and it seemed to be Larissa’s destination.
“Are we going to talk about it?” you chanced, following her as she let go of your shoulders to hold your hand.
“Sit with me,” she said simply; there was a quietness to her that felt comforting, but it also reminded you of a soft breeze bringing tempest.
You sat beside her on the plush loveseat. You thought it would feel weirder to swing on it, but it was almost a lull. Larissa slid her arm around your back and pulled you closer, leaning to kiss your temple before resting her chin atop your head.
“I used to love Morticia when I was younger.”
The solemness of her voice gave you pause. You wanted to comment, to question but felt it was best to let her tell you on her own.
“We were easily drawn to each other when we first met at Nevermore. She was quit-witted and stimulating, different from everyone I knew growing up. So unapologetically herself… so alien to me. I think I saw in her someone I wanted to be like. Outspoken, proud, and unafraid of how others perceived me.”
“You were in a relationship?” you began stroking Larissa’s hand, resting on her lap, but her small voice made you weave your fingers between hers and bring them to your lips. Although she seemed fond of the memories, you could almost feel the lump in her throat.
“Anyway…” she shook herself from whatever thoughts danced on her mind, “I met a boy, in our second year. Until then Morticia had been with Gomez for a few months and I didn’t mind sharing. Gomez is a very funny man, and it wasn’t different back then.
“But this other boy used to watch me when I visited Jericho for books or a coffee. Garret Gates. He had a horrible family, and his father hated outcasts. I thought that befriending him would make him see that we were not as different as his father told him, and was surprised when it worked out.”
You chuckled a bit at that, earning an arched brow, “Nothing, just you’re an outcast ambassador ‘since 1989’.”
“Oh, hell,” she let her head fall back onto the backrest, “How old were you by then?”
“Ham… I was due a few years in the future…”
She only groaned, murmuring “I choose not to comment on that.”
“Excellent, because you have some explaining to finish.”
“Oh, do I?” And what makes you think that?”
“Hm, I don’t know…” your eyes travelled the expanse of her neck and couldn’t contain your impish smile before leaving small, chaste kisses along, leading up to her jaw and ear, “You’re right, maybe I should just go inside and get a head start on packing…”
Her rough, “You little minx,” had you chucking against her skin, and you could feel her goosebumps at the touch of your lips. She continued with an affected tone:
“We became very close friends, and after a few months, I started having feelings for him. Morticia and I had been together for over a year by that point and Gomez and I were discussing if it wouldn’t be better and simply more fun if we all went out together.
“She… didn’t agree. Morticia was very protective of me, has always been I think, but now it’s just stubborn unwillingness to let go. She thought Garret was conspiring with his father to hurt me. It was nonsense, we had been friends for so long that he would have done something by that point. But she insisted and started seeing him behind my back.”
You were silent for a while, contemplating the information. You felt Larissa watching you from above, taking in your nervous playing with her fingers.
“Ugh, this sounds so delicate. I understand her trying to look out for you, he was from a complicated family, wasn’t he?” of course, she had been prejudiced and selfish, but you could imagine Morticia meaning well in her own distorted and overbearing way — Wednesday had a few good examples of how manipulative her dear mother could be in the name love.
“I can see your point, and maybe if things turned out differently I could forget about it, but,” Larissa’s chuckle seemed more born of habit than mirth, and she turned a bit and brought your legs to her lap to hug you closer.
She didn’t seek contact too much, apart from last evening, so for her to be so blatantly trying to have as much of you next to her made your chest clench with worry.
“After a while, he lost interest in me and became obsessed with Morticia. I never knew what she did, but at the time I was too hurt and furious to just accept he simply preferred her over me, even if she was playing him. So, I never spoke to him again…
“He was almost admitting his father might have been mistaken at our last interactions, but after Morticia, it all went downhill. He would appear at the school calling her a witch for having ‘charmed him into wanting her’, dramatic teen, he was just horny-“ you snorted at that, and only got a raised brow from Larissa and the smallest of smirks, “And became violent when she stopped entertaining him after accomplishing her goal.
“Then, in the second year’s Rave’N, he tried to poison all of us with a vial of deadly nightshade his father gave him but ended up being run throw with a sword by Morticia.”
“She killed him?!” you straightened to look into Larissa’s eyes.
“At the time we thought Gomez did it, I blamed Morticia for it but have since changed my mind and no longer think it worth blaming anyone. But last year Wednesday proved neither of her parents killed Garrett because he was poisoned by the nightshade he carried around his neck.”
“Oh… wow, this is so much drama, what in the… but why does Morticia still think you should be together?”
At that, Larissa released a long sigh, “She tried to convince me everything she did was to protect me, and while it may be true in her mind, it still doesn’t change all the scheming and plotting to drive Garrett away from me. It might sound egocentric, but I do think if we had spent just a little more time together, he would have come around. Maybe even Laurel would have learned from him since she was younger and still learning.”
“Laurel?” you recognized the name, and Larissa must have seen the moment the lightbulb flicked on above your head because she almost laughed at your dumbstruck expression, “The woman who tried to destroy the school last year? She was his relative?”
“His sister,” she nodded with a sad smile, “But I can’t keep thinking about all this and trying to piece things together into what could have been, or I’ll go mad. I’m quite satisfied leaving it all in the past.”
You nodded as well, the torrent of information making you dizzy.
“What do you want to do then? Maybe speak to her and explain where you stand?”
Larissa snorted faintly, “I have been doing it for the past two years and a few occasions before that. What do you think I was talking with her about before she threw herself at me? ‘If you want me so much come and get me’?”
“Oh, shut up…” you groaned and hid your face on her neck at her chuckles.
She laughed a bit more and you felt her shoulders relax underneath your head. It was getting colder every day, but you still heard a lone grasshopper somewhere around. You felt suddenly exhausted from your previously rapidly beating heart and the rollercoaster of emotions all this put you through, and the night sounds and Larissa’s hand softly caressing your shoulder almost had you sleeping.
It was oddly touching how she knew you wanted nothing more than your bed, and when she offered you two retire for the evening, you couldn’t be bothered to think the party would continue for probably hours still.
It was almost over. When you woke up the next morning to a dead arm aching under Larissa’s ribs you could only hug her tighter. You had no idea how things would be when you got back, but having her at that moment, with no responsibilities knocking at your door was too precious a thing to waste.
“Morning,” you heard her grumbling voice against your chest.
“Good morning, beautiful,” you smiled, refusing to let her go while she mock-fought you for her freedom.
In a few seconds, you were giggling uncontrollably. She had rolled on her back, bringing you with her and your arm seemed to be on fire when more blood started running through its veins.
With a slightly panicked “Oh, fuck” you fell onto her, and the giggling turned into laughter. “You- haha, you murdered my arm… my p- hahaha my poor arm!”
“Aww, poor baby, do you want me to kiss it better?”
“Your… cruel condescendence… wounds me,” you controlled your breathing with long intakes of breath, finally resting calmly on Larissa’s chest.
“Oh, so kisses and praises?” one could say the rough quality to her voice was due to recent slumber, but the shift of her leg underneath you told another story.
Things shouldn’t shift this fast. They never did, but with Larissa, nothing was how it was supposed to be. Her fingers slowly travelling up and down your arm suddenly weren’t absentminded, the quiet calmness turned into still air, charged with waves of electricity.
You raised yourself from her just enough to loom over her face, arm not hurting as much with the quickening pace of your heart. She looked so familiar, not like a lover you had just found, but one you’d kept for all your life. Her messy hair made her beautiful in a comforting way, reminding you of cloudy skies after many days of heat.
She was magnificent. You had no idea how someone like her could praise you when she was simply perfect. What good could you be compared to her?
You hoped she was able to see how you felt in your eyes, but to make sure, you leant down and kissed her vehemently, you tried to translate the tenderness you felt but the year boiling inside you rendered you unable to do anything other than take and take and demand for more, you only hoped she could understand the emotions behind it all.
Her hands held you firmly by the waist, thumbs reaching underneath your top and caressing the skin over your ribs.
You were grateful for your decision of only stripping off your trousers and jacket last night because now the chilly air from the stone room created an incredible contrast with the heat of Larissa’s body, and her warm hands travelling the expanse of your back as you slowly started grinding against her left goosebumps on their wake.
She grabbed your arse and pulled you forcefully against her hipbone, earning a low growl as you had to stop kissing her from lack of brain power and air. Try as you might, you didn’t have the capacity to kiss her properly while she made your insides feel like Greek fire.
It was incomprehensible how she managed to turn your body into a teenager’s, alight in a way that felt like the briefest touch could finish you if only she wanted to.
“So sweet of you to think you could have your way,” she breathed in your ear, and the warm breath seemed to melt your muscles while her thigh against the heat between your legs made them tense.
How could she remember that while you couldn’t say for sure if one plus one was two or ten or a thousand? Oh… right. You could fix that.
Staring defiantly into her eyes, you moved your knee to rest between her own thighs, pressing vindictively against her. Her sharp intake of breath bloomed an impish smile on your face and for a second you could concentrate enough to mutter:
“Let’s see whose way it will be, then,” before lunging yourself into her.
Your mouths clashed together. A battle of will, but also a harmonious dance of taking as much as possible and giving the most you could. You trailed down her face with desperation, leaving urgent kisses along her jaw and long, well-savoured love bites right above her pulse.
Larissa’s sounds were a symphony. She gasped and groaned and fought off whimpers, only making them sound more desperate by trying to mask them when you grabbed her hips to help you grind your thigh to her. Through her sheer nightdress, her wetness warmed your skin, and you realized the slippery fabric was severely decreasing the amount of friction you intended to provide her.
You urgently grasped at the hem of the dress, only managing not to rip it away from her by going down to kiss every inch of exposed skin revealed by the fabric.
You trailed up her stomach, revelling in its soft, milky skin. You wanted to paint it red, then blue, then purple with your mouth. Her body was the perfect canvas and you longed to mark how much you loved it everywhere possible.
“You took… such… good care of me yesterday…” you murmured as you pressed kisses up her ribs and between her breasts, “I can only hope to return the favour in kind.”
You emerged from underneath the cloth where you’d been giving her right nipple some well-deserved attention when you heard her muffled whine. Her lips were sealed in a thin line, eyes shut tight.
“Oh, no, no, no, none of that,” you whispered, planting soft kisses on her cheek and lips, “I want to listen to you-“
“But what if someone hears us?” well, that was an inspiring thought.
“If someone does, I’ll have to myself a pat on the back, because these walls are literal stone.”
Her rumbling chuckle grew into both of you lightly laughing and you couldn’t believe how much you wanted her then. You wanted that laugh, to wake up like this every day, to see her soft and happy but also panting and moaning. You wanted it all. And as you realized it, you leaned down again to kiss her deeply and slowly. Your hand left her waist to reach for her face, hold her and caress her cheek as you drowned in that feeling of being so utterly, unfathomably, helplessly in love. Of course you were, maybe for weeks, maybe months, maybe you fell just like from a cliff to the sea, ungracefully and suddenly, destined to certain destruction or a once-in-a-lifetime experience, it all depended on the impact.
You felt breathless when you parted, but looking into Larissa’s eyes, blown to the point you nearly couldn’t see the blue, managed to knock even the idea of air out of your lungs.
She was otherworldly. You wanted to worship her like divinity.
Without breaking eye contact, you began to make your way down her body again, kissing a path to the pit of her stomach, leaving goosebumps in your wake.
Instinctively, her fingers weaved through your hair, and she held your gaze for half a second more, waiting for your next step. You had to taste her or you’d die. Patience and build-up could be exercised another time.
She didn’t fight her cries. Not this time, not with much more to feel than think about.
“Do you think they’re waiting for us for breakfast?” you mused while massaging Larissa’s scalp with expensive shampoo (her own) for white-silver hair.
“Maybe the girls. For some reason, I don’t think Morticia is too keen on seeing us very soon.”
Tags are as follows: @anti-bright-places, @pro-weems-places, @the-bagel24, @regalbootie, @tundra1029, @thoroughly-confused-kiwi-blog, @lilsmeaux, @poorwritingandstalecoffee, @alder-saan, @jelly-frogss, @enchantressb, @imean-its-just-me, @lvinhs, @iloveyall-18, @kimiinou, @jeweleegrey, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @one-pining-queer, @paulsonwifey, @winterfireblond and @bobia13
Chapter Nine
#only pretending#larissa weems x reader#female reader#teacher!reader#fake/pretend relationship#fluff#implied smut#principal weems#larissa weems
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When you got time, do you have any tips on writing Ingo and Emmets dialogue? I really like how you write them but I can't seem to get their speech down. It's mainly Ingos which is annoying since he canonical has more dialogue than Emmet.
Oh thank you!! I’m glad you enjoy- writing these boys dialogue is one of my favorite parts of writing and has made me seriously consider how I write speech for every character I do. It’s been great practice!
Okay, actual advice time lol.
HOW TO WRITE INGO AND EMMET
(According to me, Blue)
(Now, keep in mind that there isn’t one true way to write the boys, and this is just how I personally write them. Take this with a grain of salt)
When you’re first starting out writing the boys I recommend writing dialogue in your own voice and then submasifying it.
For example, let’s take this dialogue and transform it:
“Sorry I’m late for work! My dog chewed through my nice pants so I had to find some new ones! It’s been a bit of a rough day today, not gonna lie.”
So starting with Ingo-
Ingo talks extremely formally and is super long winded. When writing dialogue for him, try to imagine a fancy British butler who uses long words and long sentences. Replace normal words with more “fancy” ones and use more words then you really need to. (A thesaurus can be extremely useful for this)
“My sincerest apologies for my tardy arrival!”
Then, pepper in train terms as much as possible. If he goes three sentences without saying something train related, find a way to stick one in. If you’re stuck, look up a list of train words and take inspiration (I’ll include a list of train expressions I commonly pull from at the bottom of the post) (Make sure to use “Bravo!” and “All aboard!” whenever applicable as well)
“I awoke to the unpleasant surprise of joltik holes in my trousers this morning- which delayed my cab significantly as I was forced to find an undamaged pair!”
I personally strive to use consonants (stuff like I’d, we’ll, don’t) as little as possible with the boys. For Emmet it’s to add to the choppiness of his dialogue and for Ingo it’s because that man would rather use fifty words when one will do. (It also makes them sound more professional!)
“Honestly, after a morning like this one, I pray that the remainder of today’s tracks prove to be much smoother.”
Another thing to keep in mind is that Ingo is extremely polite while Emmet is a bit more blunt. Try to use titles like “sir” and “miss” when writing Ingo- and then just don’t bother with Emmet.
Next up is Emmet, who I personally find much harder then Ingo! Unlike Ingo who’s dialogue you need to add words to, Emmet you need to subtract and simplify! This is the post I originally read to kinda get the jive of things, but here’s my pointers!
First off, figure out what concepts the are being expressed in your sentence, and split those apart.
“Sorry I’m late for work!” has two parts- an apology and an acknowledgment that the person is late. For Emmet we would want to split this single sentence into two.
“I am Emmet! I am late! Sorry!”
Next is vocal ticks! Emmet has several, and they should ideally be sprinkled in sparingly through his dialogue. (You can see that I used ‘I am Emmet’ in the previous section)
‘I am Emmet’ should be used when he is joining a conversation or when he’s about to say something about himself. It CAN be used more then once in a single conversation- but try not to overdo it.
‘Verrrrrrrry’ is another one! Other submas authors have him roll the r on other words as well, but I stick with verrrrrry. This one is easy to use- just extend the word very with extra Rs and use very whenever naturally applicable.
‘Yup’ is one as well- and one I admittedly don’t use often. It rarely jives with the way I write Emmet so I usually don’t bother- but you should definitely keep it in mind!
And of course, train terms! Less often then Ingo of course (since he says less words in general) but if you can find a way to fit it in, go for it.
“The joltiks chewed holes in my pants! Verrrrry naughty. Had to find new pants. Holey pants do not pass safety checks! Yup!”
Finally, the man likes his patterns! When writing Emmet it’s a good idea to have his Blubapedia page open nearby so you can just steal chunks of his script from that. (You can, and should do this for Ingo too!)
“Bad morning. Oh well. Follow the schedule! Everybody smile! All aboard!”
Of course, the man is perfectly capable of speaking longer sentences- but when and where he does so is up to the author.
All that being said, it’s important to remember that you’ll likely have to attempt their dialogue a few times before getting a sentence to flow right. Even for these examples I had to do a couple takes until I found one that really worked!
Here’s a couple of other notes for writing Pokémon characters in general:
Watch out for expressions and words that use animals. (like beeline or ‘in the dog house’) Try to replace those words with their Pokémon counterparts- (such as combeeline [which I’ve typed so many times I’ve started using internally in my day to day life]) or something that sounds close enough (like if your censoring f***, ducklett doesn’t work nearly as good as duck. So try muk instead!)
Do your best to replace religious swears with Pokémon religion! Instead of heavens, or the big G word, use words like, ‘Dragons!’ Or ‘Sweet Swords of Justice!’ (Of course, these are Unovan swears. For Hisui you should be using things like ‘Sinnoh’ and ‘great Time!’. Other regions have their own legendaries as well)
And finally, my list of train terms I pull from regularly!
Cab (or car): To refer to one’s body
“I am afraid my cab is in need of repairs.”
Tracks: A plan or intended route
“Very well! I will follow the tracks you have set!”
Destination: The goal or like, the actual destination
“Bravo! Your talent has brought you to the destination called victory!”
Station (or terminal): A location
“Very well! Let us set our tracks to the Pearl Clan’s station!”
Two Car Train (or three or four or whatever number you need): Friends or a team
“Emmet and I are a two car train!”
Couple (opposite being uncoupled): To join together
“I must ask that you couple your car to mine as we make our way through here. It can get quite dangerous!”
Engine: Another term for your body, but more specifically in regards to energy or drive
“I’m afraid I must rest my engine.”
Refuel: Eat.
“It is getting quite late- let us take a break to refuel.”
Conducting: Guiding
“I look forward to conducting you on this endeavor!”
Derailment (or collision, wreck, trainwreck): Something that has gone wrong.
“Apologies. It appears I have been derailed.”
Unscheduled (opposite being scheduled): Something unexpected
“Ah! A cave in! It appears we must make an unscheduled stop.”
Passenger: Person (or Pokémon)
“It appears we have picked up some unexpected passengers!”
Conductor: Ingo sometimes uses this to refer to himself (works especially well in Hisui)
“Passenger, please refrain from stabbing the conductor”
Delay: Something happening later then scheduled
“Apologies for the delay! Let us begin!”
Sidetracked: put off course
“Ah, but now I have sidetracked us with this talk.”
All aboard!: Good conversation ender 💙
“ALL ABOARD!!!”
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From Away 1
Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include noncon or dubcon and other untagged triggers. Mind the warnings.
Summary: you apply for a job with a rather eccentric boss.
Character: Harald Halfdansson
Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️
Courtesy tag: @alicedopey
For a country built forged in centuries, everything feels so sparkly and new to you. A new home, a new world, at least for a while. It is all so splendid and wonderful. And expensive.
So it is that you head off with a fold in hand and your purse bouncing against your hip. You have a job interview. A very interesting one though the commute promises more than enough time to prepare. Rather, to overthink.
You can’t complain. It sounds like an interesting opportunity. A dream job you couldn’t hope for back home. There weren’t any historical sites that popular to require excessive staff.
You stand at the stop just outside your building. You need to catch a connection at the downtown center and another in an area you’ve never been before. After that, there’s a bit of a walk but you could use a reason to exercise.
The bus pulls up and you smile at the driver as you scan your pass. You find a seat though it isn’t hard. Most are empty this early in the morning. You hug your bag in your lap and watch the streets pass by as the driver chugs along, stopping and starting until your reach the core of the old city.
You nearly miss your transfer and sit breathless on the second bus, measuring your heartbeat until it’s calm again. The close you get, the worse your nerves are. The last interview you had was for this very opportunity. Just to go on exchange, you had to sit in front of a panel and answer questions about why and how and so many things. You can do it, right?
The third bus takes you into the hills, lush green against the grey blue sky, some rocky peaks in the distance. The landscape here is rich and varying. Back home, you can find a similar spectrum of backdrops but the distance in between is vast.
Last stop on the route before it circles around and you get off with a thanks to the driver. You step onto the gravel apron of the back road and check your phone. You don’t have a signal up here but you have the directions saved. Just in case. You follow the steps up towards your destination. It’s not easy to miss as the old fortress stands sentinel at the top of the jutting incline.
Kastali Castle. A bit redundant upon translation; ‘Castle Castle’. In your research, you discovered that the fort was built on a millenial foundation of an old viking village, since updated over the centuries by warlords and kings, and burnt many times over by invaders. You shuffle through the history in your head, trying to sort the timeline as you approach the low stone barrier along the lower tier of the property.
The gate is open. On the other side, sheep graze lazily across the grass. You’ve learned since your arrival that the creatures have free reign of the countryside. They may eat and wander where they might. You stop to fawn at a younger lamb. The animals can be a bit ornery but they’re cute.
You turn back, looking up at the high foundations and carry on along the steep path. As you get to the large wooden door that would let you through the tall inner walls, you hesitate. You can’t just let yourself in but you don’t know where to go. You check your phone, thinking to call the number in the email but your bars are still empty.
“Invaders, ho!” A holler breaks the earthly hue and you step back to look up at where the voice erupted from. There’s a figure above you, so high you have to crane your neck painfully. You continue to back up until you can see the man above. “Are you lost, fair maiden? Or do you come upon a quest?”
You blink, nearly giggling at his flowery way of speaking. His accent lilts his words peculiarly.
“Um, I have an interview,” you yell back up, the effort making your throat thrum. You’re not much for raising your voice. “With, er,” you look down at your phone. You hadn’t saved the email.
“Harald,” he calls back down, “yes, he is expecting you.”
The man disappears and you stare up into the sky after him. You can hear creaking and cracking then silence. You lower your head and look straight ahead, waiting. The arched door opens with a long whine and the same man appears before you, his cheeks slightly flushed as he gives a crooked grin. His weathered skin is marked with blue black ink along one side of his face. A nordic symbol you can’t decipher.
“It is I, Harald,” he offers his hand, “the keeper of Kastali.”
“Oh, uh,” you shake his hand and give your name in return.
“Lovely name, lovely,” he squeezes before he lets you go, “and a curious accent I here. American? No, no, speak for me again.”
You blink at him dumbly, “um, okay, I don’t know what to say, sir.”
“Irish,” he jabs his finger into the air. “I hear the twang.”
“No, sir,” you laugh, “Canadian.”
“Ah, the great north,” he booms, “yes, I see. Forgive my assumptions.”
“It’s okay,” you grip your bag and shift your weight nervously. “Thank you for the interview, sir, this place is really cool.”
“Interview?” He squints, “is that what I said? No, no, you’re hired.”
“What?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have time for an interview,” he shakes his head, “I need help. Forthwith.”
“Oh, right, maybe I misread--”
“Let’s forget that, unless...” his brows rise and his forehead lines, “you do not want the job?”
“No, no, I do,” you assure him, “I just wasn’t expecting to start today.”
“Yes, you are not dressed well for chasing away Gustav.”
“Gustav?” You echo.
“You will know him. He is a dark cloud on this place. If you do run into him, well, run in the other direction,” he girds, “well then,” he moves to stand with his back to the door, holding it open, “let’s begin with the tour, the we will worry about all else.”
“Oh, sure, um, right. Cool,” you pass through the door and he eases the door shut behind him. As the old brass latch clanks, you wince.
“Wow,” you look around at the interior walls, “it’s so big. It must be a lot of work. How many people work here?”
He laughs heartily and claps his hand on his chest, “just me. Well, you too, now.”
“Just you?” You gape over at him. It’s only then your notice that his hair is much longer than you thought. It hangs, bounded in golden hoops, down his back, much like an ancient warrior fashion.
“The king of my own castle,” he winks over at you, “let’s not waste any more time. We have much to do.”
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Reverse: 1999 seems unreal; too good to be true.
The reason I even took notice of it in the first place was its soundtrack. I hate jazz, but they made a jazz song that I actually like, and then there's ReReReRegulus!, what a banger.
And then I watched the trailer, to get a feel of what the game is even about. First of all, the accents! Hello? I normally always play games in JP, but this game seems to be set not in some fictional world, but in our real world, in the real London, so the British English dub would be so much more immersive (but of course there are a lot of familiar JP seiyuu, I'm very conflicted.) If this game, unlike Genshin, has a good voice director, who actually does their work and tells the VA's how the character is supposed to sound, I might play in English tbh.
As a former FGO player, traveling to the past isn't an entirely novel concept to me, however, we are going to the 20th century, which is quite interesting. I mean, think about it, the 20th century of our real world, there are so many fascinating historical events. And it seems that they are putting in much more effort in portraying the zeitgeist of the era than FGO ever did. The artistic direction seems to be on point for this game.
Apparently there is a main character, with a canon personality and fully voiced dialogue. Hoyo making Honkai Impact 2.0's new MC a self-insert was the stupidest move, and I'm so glad that this game understands how much better a canon protagonist is. It really convinces me that they care about storytelling and characterization.
The general artistic direction is so impressive, but the game itself also surprises me.
The base rate of 6-stars is 1.5% (compared to Genshin and Star Rail's 0.6%) AND the soft pity starts at 60, with hard pity being at 70. There doesn't seem to be a weapon gacha and the dupes only increase skill multipliers instead of completely changing how a character can be played. At first, I thought it was unfortunate that pick-up rate was only 50%, but every character joins the standard pool, so losing the 50/50 won't be nearly as bad. Unless the gacha currency economy is completely fucked, this seems extremely generous.
The combat is thankfully not one of those god-awful auto-fights like Blue Archive or PriConne, but it's turn-based, which is much more engaging, allowing for challenging battles that actually pick your brain and require some skill.
However, there is an auto-mode for the mundane stuff, and get this, you can record your actions, rather than having an AI do everything wrong.
And thankfully, there is no PvP, so you don't need to compete with whales.
Knowing all this, I really have to wonder, where is the catch? There must be some huge flaw, right? It is as if the devs of Reverse: 1999 looked at all the complaints and criticism of all other gacha games, and just decided to address all of them.
As long as the game doesn't have a huge reliance on meta characters to clear endgame content and event-limited content and the writing doesn't absolutely suck, then this game might be the perfect gacha game. I'm so excited to give it a try!
#Reverse: 1999#the only complaint I have is that there are some really whack character names#reverse1999#re1999
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First meetings preview
Don't come after me for any OOC behavior, I have a rather limited knowledge of all the of characters since I'm a rather casual fan.
[Divider Credit: @cafekitsune]
Sometimes I wonder how my life has come this way.
Children are not my forte, though taking care of anyone is already a massive pain for me. And out of somewhere in my heart, I decided to take care of more than one child?
Seriously, what have I gotten myself into?
[First meetings preview]
The sound of a gunshot rang in her ears.
Amelia was no stranger to death, being called the Grim Reaper by some, death was as much her friend as that pit of endless despair she found herself in.
So, she watched; parents of a child that seemed no older than ten fell to the ground, their fates sealed as soon as they entered this wretched city. The crowd looked on in shock, some only gasped, some shouted while others simply looked on. Gotham City was the strangest kind of hell Amelia ever been to, that an assassination on two people from a moving circus only garnered mild reactions.
The Flying Graysons, the family of acrobats that were performing their usual trapeze act, now became another name in the soiled land.
Her eyes wandered over to where the murderer was, putting his gun away in his jacket as he prepared to run away. Perhaps she should have intervened, knowing very well that she could just smash the man’s head into pieces with a strike of her fist. Yet, there was a feeling in her gut that she should not do that, that there was more to all of this than just multiple wrong moves made by the circus as well as the family. Besides, she was sure that Batman, the caped crusader who acted like a Guardian of the Night, would find the murderer eventually.
She chose to get out of her seat, jumping right past the two rows of viewers, nearly hitting a few poor persons in the head. She landed on the ground with grace, fixing her hair with one hand as she walked into the light, shone down on the bleeding corpses and the crying child. She looked at the child with her usual nonchalant indifference, slowly approaching him while taking a look at the corpses.
One clean shot to the head for each.
It was easy to say that the killer was incredibly trained and had been doing this for years. It was also easy to say that whoever that hired the man, they really, really wanted the Graysons to be dead. Which made her wonder who was so determined to ensure that the couple died that they chose to hire an experienced killer to do the job.
A soft sob entered her ears.
She looked over to the boy, too stunned to clutch onto their corpses yet his arm remained outstretched. His body trembled, fear, pain, despair filled in those blue eyes. He did not look at her, he had not yet noticed her presence. Even with the crowd being dispersed and asked to get out, his eyes remained firmly on the bleeding corpses, the blood slowly starting to reach him.
Before the other circus members that were responsible for helping the crowd get out of the tent could reach her, she took off her black jacket and gently placed it around the boy. The sudden feeling of weight spooked him, causing him to look directly into her eyes. Yet, there was not much he could see, from her eyes or even her facial expressions as they remained neutral even as she kneeled down beside him.
“You will be alright.” It was the first words she spoke to him. Even with her cold and monotone voice, it sounded soft to his ears.
The jacket acted like a blanket due to their height and slight build difference, giving him some warmth even under the bright lights and the blood. He continued to stare at her, tears falling down like streams of water. Amelia flashed him a soft, almost warm smile that did not quite reach her eyes even if she tried.
“You will be alright, I swear.”
Those words were an anchor, tying both of them down to the current moment.
The jacket was left with the young boy after Amelia was forced out of the tent as the GCPD (Gotham City Police Department) arrived, she spared a glance at the poor boy before leaving the area altogether.
…
The sound of metal clinking.
It was not a bad sound per say, not the worst type her ears had caught. At least it was not swords or someone trying to break in. Her eyes wandered over to the strange car parked beside the alley, it clearly did not belong in the filth of Crime Alley, stench of trash stronger than anything else. The car seemed more like a tank, incredibly well-built, seeming like it could live through a ten-floor building with minor damages.
It was the Batmobile, not the first time she had seen one, mostly due to Grayson but oh well.
She noticed a figure immediately, kneeling on the back right as they held something in their hand. Her footsteps were quiet, not making a single sound as she walked on the balls of her feet, slowly approaching the figure.
She only then realized that it was a male teenager stealing the tire of the Batmobile. ‘Brave and stupid’
She approached the young man just as he took off the tire, her head tilted slightly as she stared at him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood upright, making his head snap towards the direction where she was at. He jumped, letting go of the tire but not the lug wrench, holding it tightly while his eyes turned from fear and shock to determination. The young man wanted to fight her, she knew that as much.
“Now then, I believe we could just talk, yeah?” She offered with an arm extended towards him.
“About what exactly?”
“As to why you’re stealing a tire, of course.”
Her words had struck a chord with him as he decided to start running for it right after she said that, still clutching onto the lug wrench like his life depended on it.
She just shook her head. As much as she could very easily just let him go, not that it would matter if she caught him, though there was something in her head that seemed to spin differently. A low chuckle rumbled through her chest as she watched him run, her eyes narrowed before darting around the area.
The teenager felt goosebumps surging all over his body along with his heartbeat, each thump feeling like a closer encounter with her. This was something he was not used to, something he would never have imagined, that he would be so terrified about a single person.
But his instincts honed from the streets told his gut that he should run.
“Now, you don’t look too good scurrying like a rat.”
Her breath hit his neck, making his eyes peek over to where she was. His feet continued to move, yet he could not feel the ground. His eyes looked down, realizing that he was picked off of the ground. Her hand holding him by the neck, just firm enough to hold him though the pressure was undeniably suffocating.
“Let. Me. Go.” The young man glared at her, his fingers gripping around the lug wrench.
A faint smile tugged on the corner of her lips, holding him closer to her while she murmured, “Come on now, let’s talk.”
…
Amelia’s senses had always been high.
She could hear every footstep within the area, every broken light flickering, every gasped and heavy breathing. Her eyes remained fixed on the bleeding man, every bone in his arms twisted, turned into mush. Yet she knew the man would be fine either way, his regenerative abilities were enough to ensure that he would live this encounter.
But there was something else she was more curious about. The pair of eyes staring at her from behind the tall grass.
“Tell your boss that he should try harder to kill me next time.” She threw the sword right back at the man.
The sword landed on the ground, the shiny blade stained with blood.
She only spared him one more glance before leaving, walking towards the closest door. Luckily for her, there was no one else in the area (aside from those pair of eyes) and she could leave safely; Unluckily for her, there was a really high chance that she might end up in Gotham News the next morning for her brutal fight.
‘I’m going to worry about that later.’
She stretched her arms, letting out a soft yawn as she walked towards the exit of the arcade. The moment she pushed the door and stepped out, the familiar bright white lights shone down on her. She let out a sigh, her body visibly slumping as she started to walk down the bright, endless hallway.
And the door swung once more.
She kept moving however, running her hand through her hair while looking at the ground. She could feel it as if the person was walking beside her, but they were not. Their footsteps were slow, cautious yet it felt a little clumsy, likely being fascinated by their surroundings.
She stopped abruptly, turning around to see who it was.
It was a young teen, younger than Jason when she first found him. He took a step back after noticing that she was staring at him. She cleared her throat, waiting for him to say anything. She could tell with a glance that the child she was dealing with was someone that had intelligence unlike the peers of their age.
“I’m…” His tongue was tied up anyways, unsure of how to get his point across.
“Well…” She paused, crossing her arms. “You better start talking or… I will just assume that you’re just a lost child and not a stalker.”
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Family Reunion
Fandom: Trials of Apollo
Rating: Gen
Genre: Family
Characters: Apollo, Lee, Will, Michael, Cabin Seven
Apollo-as-Lester wakes up for the first time in Cabin Seven. Having children older than him is just plain wrong, thanks.
TOApril day 11 - First Meeting! This is set in the aftermath of an AU of mine that I haven't yet written, and for the sake of avoiding spoiling the whole premise of that AU before I do write and post it, there is a distinct lack of explanation hanging around, oops.
Apollo jerked awake, his breathing shallow and rapid while his weak, mortal body trembled and sweated in a broadcast of distress to anyone in the vicinity – and any hope that his immediate vicinity was, in fact, vacant of company was immediately dashed into tiny pieces by the gentle touch on his forehead.
It was cool, which meant that either they ran cold or Apollo was running hot (and yes, Apollo was always hot, in both senses of the word, but Lester was not, a fact he was still struggling to come to terms with). Apollo did not consider that a good sign, although the gentleness of the touch at least suggested it was no-one meaning immediate harm.
“Can you open your eyes?” they asked – a familiar voice, and while the identity of the owner currently escaped Apollo (an alarming fact, given Apollo wasn’t used to forgetting sounds, or anything at all), he was reasonably confident that it belonged to a male. “Blink once for yes.”
There was a wryness to the voice, a thread that might be light-hearted at the joke.
“What if I cannot?” he asked, cringing at the raspy slur that came out of his mouth.
“Well, you can always just tell me that,” his companion pointed out, and Apollo might feel half-deaf but he could still tell there was a new note to the voice – one associated with relief. “But given I know you’re awake, I’d rather you at least tried before giving up.”
Rather annoyingly, he had a point – and Apollo was also getting rather fed up with not being able to place the owner of the voice by aural clues alone. He knew he knew that voice.
His eyes resisted opening, perhaps basking in the chance to be lazy for the first time since crash landing in a dumpster and becoming the servant of one Meg McCaffrey, but his companion had more or less asked nicely, so Apollo persevered until his eyelids cracked open and he could make some sense of his surroundings.
The elegant ceiling was the first thing to catch his attention, simple but homely. It was also vaguely familiar, a feeling that increased as more of the cabin – because that was clearly what he was in – came into focus. Plain white walls, simple wooden bunk beds, and wide windows with heart-achingly familiar yellow flowers blooming along the sills.
“Curse of Delos,” he rasped, digging a clumsy elbow into the soft material beneath him until he could force his unwilling sack of mortal flesh into something resembling a sitting position, although perhaps a pathetic recline would be a more accurate description.
“Your flowers,” his companion agreed. “They’ve grown here for as long as I can remember.”
Finally, Apollo’s sight landed on the companion in question. A young man, tragically older than Lester’s body by a couple of years, with short, honey blond hair and eyes closer to green than blue was perched on the edge of the cot he had awoken in. His face was thin and drawn, a little too much to be strictly healthy, and there was dark shading around his eyes as though his eyelids had forgotten how not to have bags.
It was a sight that made Apollo’s already aching body ache a little bit more, because it was wrong. So much of it was wrong, more wrong than right, although he’d seen those eyes before, set into the face of a first chair violinist in the Portland Symphony Orchestra.
“Lee,” he said, the name escaping him in as a breath. His son – and the fact that his body was physically younger than that of his son’s was one of the things that was so, so, wrong – gave him a glimmer of a smile, tired and weary but a twitch of the corner of his mouth nonetheless.
“Hi, Dad,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”
Apollo couldn’t help the scoff that wrestled its way out of his choked up throat, because how could anything be nice about his current situation. “Is it?” he asked despondently.
“Yes,” Lee said without hesitation. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s not great that you’re mortal now, but I’ll take that over not knowing.”
He didn’t specify what he didn’t what to not know, but even Apollo’s patchy mortal memory could put together enough of the pieces that he couldn’t really argue that point.
Or perhaps more importantly, that arguing that point would only drag Lee’s mental state down further, and his son didn’t need to suffer any more.
He pushed himself up further, internally grumbling at his reluctant body as it begrudgingly obeyed. Lee’s hand dropped from his forehead, but settled on his arm instead, a cool touch to Apollo’s forearm. His son had thick, soft wrist warmers on each wrist, the flicker of gold barely visible beneath the long sleeves of his hoodie. Had he always liked those? Apollo couldn’t remember.
Instead of letting on just how many holes his memory seemed to have, enough to make his mind a fully functional sieve, no doubt, he turned his thoughts elsewhere. “Where’s Meg?”
The smile that crept across Lee’s face was fond. “Making friends,” he said. “Connor’s going to need an eyepatch for a few days, and Sherman’s going to be walking with a limp for a while after that kick to the crotch.” He sounded amused.
Apollo couldn’t say he was surprised, given his brief but intense crash course in the consequences of spending time in the personal space of Meg McCaffrey, but he had to ask. “Making friends?”
Lee’s smile grew. “Michael was the same when he was her age,” he said. “And she’s Kayla’s age. Either those three are going to tear each other to pieces, or become a gremlin trio. They’ll be fine.”
He seemed wholly unconcerned at the prospect of Meg potentially tearing apart other demigods – or other demigods tearing Meg apart. Then again, the necklace around his neck was laden with beads, reminding Apollo that Lee was as close as an expert to camp dynamics as any demigod.
The cabin door crept open and quiet feet pattered across the floor, accelerating the closer they got to him until there was another blond young man in his eyeline, this one still a teenager, although still too close to Apollo’s mortal age for comfort. “You’re awake!” he said, his hands immediately reaching for Apollo’s head. “How are you feeling? I tried to heal you, but-”
“Take a breath, Will,” Lee interrupted him gently, the hand that wasn’t still resting on Apollo’s arm coming to wrap around his younger brother’s shoulders. “He can’t answer you if you’re still talking.” Will – his hair had the exact same curl around the ears that that Texan country singer had had, this was her son – obediently silenced, and Apollo found himself the recipient of twin expectant looks.
If he hadn’t already known the two of them were brothers, he would’ve realised then. Lee’s eyes were greener than Will’s pure blue, and of course he was about five years older, but the look was identical.
“I ache,” he admitted, his voice whining pathetically. “I have acne and flab.”
“Welcome to mortal teenagerhood,” Lee said wryly, as Will gaped. “Will, want to give him the rundown?”
“Swollen nose but not broken,” Apollo’s younger son – and Olympus he was not going to be getting used to this teenage son being a similar age to his body, let alone the son that looked to be more or less out of his teenager years and into full adulthood being obviously older – reported. “Your ribs were cracked but are healing well, and your vital signs are all good for a mortal.” His voice broke on the last word, and to Apollo’s alarm, his eyes started to dampen. “I gave you nectar,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “I didn’t know- your lips started smoking-”
Lee tugged him closer, rubbing his hand along Will’s arm. “We didn’t know,” he assured him quietly, but that didn’t stop Will’s lip from quivering. “It’s not your fault.”
Apollo distantly hoped that that explained his fire-and-brimstone-esque nightmare.
“I take it Meg didn’t think to tell you,” he said instead, and got a fond head shake from Lee.
“I think she was too busy screeching at us to remember to give medical critical information,” he said. “Connor and Sherman winding her up didn’t help.”
“She’s waiting outside,” Will added. “Along with everyone else.”
As if on cue, the door slammed open, the person responsible clearly not particularly caring that Apollo might have still been passed out. It was exactly the sort of behaviour Apollo thought Meg would be capable of, but while the height of the figure was about right, the black hair was too long, and there was a distinct lack of glinty rhinestone glasses.
They were also, unmistakably, another boy.
In his wake trailed several other figures, all taller but something told Apollo they were all younger, too. It might have been the impressive collection of beads around his neck, or – and Apollo was going to persuade himself it was the second option – his memory wasn’t so terrible that he didn’t recognise more of his children, even if some of the newcomers were also the same age or older than his Lester-body.
It took him longer than he liked to put names to faces, but at least they did come, before he had to face the awkwardness of admitting he’d forgotten any of his children. The two African-American boys, both in their early teens and blessedly younger than Apollo’s current state still, were Elias and Austin – Elias with the long locs, and Austin with the intricate cornrows – while the third boy, the one with a permanent limp and a strangely-dangling jacket sleeve, to say nothing of the trio of slashing scars across one side of his face, was Nathan. The older girl, liberally freckled with her hair dangling in brown bunches, was Joy, and he was pretty certain the youngest of the group with hair the colour of Greek fire was Kayla.
Then there was the oldest teenager at the head of the pack, striding forwards with all the confidence of someone that was going to get his answers, regardless of anyone else’s wishes – or Apollo’s injuries.
Michael came to a stop next to Will, flanking his younger brother and just about in arm’s reach of Lee if the young man chose to reach out any further, and Apollo found himself fixed with an unimpressed look.
“Where the fuck have you been?”
#trials of apollo#trials of apollo fanfiction#riordanverse#riordanverse fanfiction#toapril#toapril 2024#tsari writes fanfiction#pjo apollo#lee fletcher#will solace#michael yew#austin lake#kayla knowles#original character#elias robinson#nathan lister#joy norris#cabin seven#apollo cabin
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What the east blue crew voices look like (+scents!)
Hello again this is a part 2 This post and so I thought I would do it again for those who don’t want to go check out the other one: I have two types of synesthesia one where I see the colors of peoples voices and another were I can smell pictures
With that let me show you our favorite strawhats colors and scents!
Luffy
Luffy smells like a big juicy tomato with some kind of spice that I think is Cajun. He also smells like sunflower seeds. His scent makes me hungry honestly
His voice is a dusty pale red that has a calming effect on me. His voice bounces around my vision but not very violently and more like the dvd logo going around screen kind of way
Different voices can often share or change colors depending on how they sound. And I really enjoy seeing it in music! A song that shares luffys color would be awake my soul by Mumford and sons
Zoro
Zoro might have a worse stank than doffy tbh he smelling like vinegar and burnt bacon with a soy sauce while some kind of herb is not doing anything to cover it up and is really just making it worse. I can barely stand it when he’s on screen for this reason but I think he is the funniest character in the whole series frfr
He isn’t a green to me sadly but rather a dark cyan. His voice is often just moving around circles constantly which helps to distract me from the stank at least a bit. A song with the same color is spectre by Radiohead
Nami
She has a very pleasant scent^^ a bit of honey and peach scent with a light floral and I kind of get a plain cake scent (like literally a cake with nothing on it) I would love it as a perfume
Her voice is a honey yellow that has a sparkling effect that you’d see in fireworks and a song that is like almost a perfect one to one with her voice is the song girls against god by Florence + the machine
Usopp
Usopp has the best smell to me out of everyone in the east blue crew, smells like matcha tea and candy apples with just a hint of whipped cream! God I want to eat this scent so badly or maybe I’m just hungry idk
His color is what I would describe a false mint. It’s a pastel green sure but it’s just too greyed out to be a true mint green he also has small specks of a very light grey and his voice often comes in flashes the song that matches his voice is RISK,RISK,RISK! By jhariah
Sanji
Sanji has a very muted scent with a dandelion and some sage I can also smell the very strange scent that I can only describe as melatonin. But the scent isn’t overpowering at all and is very much on the light side
He is very much a pure midnight blue while having some black in there as well. His voice also does the swirls like corazons do but they are much smaller than his. I couldn’t find an exact match for a song but the closest I could get was father by the front bottoms
((Might do a part three but really yall should just request or something))
#one piece#one piece sanji#roronoa zoro#one piece luffy#one piece nami#usopp#nami#monkey d. luffy#sanji#sorry abt the bad music taste
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