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A gengar watching over a baby skitty <3

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orrerunaway-nsfw​:

“Care- ah- Careful, Shauntal…” Was all he could mutter, in response to her going further, that said, his hand did push just a little, making sure those teeth of hers go right in, so much for not leaving a mark at this point.

There’s no smirk on his face anymore, no smug look, just a relaxed smile, but he’d also not noticed the amount of force he was applying with the hand upon her head, part of him worried for a split second that perhaps it was too much, alas, that thought was answered when he felt her start moving up his jawline, and then those words, those got to him perhaps a little too much, but in a good way. “One correction… How long we’ve dreamt of doing this…”

And then her lips began to hover right over his own, the slightest movement was all it would take to close that gap, that minute slip of air that was between them. But there was something equally as good about being just off of that, he always knew she was a tease, but it seemed they were each playing into one another’s hands. He wanted nothing more than to move, just a little, to give her what they’d both been wanting, but the moment felt nice enough to keep just a little longer.

“I hope you know, Shauntal, this is out of love…” Alistair opted to whisper, with her so close, there wasn’t a need for any volume. But, before she had any chance to say a word in response, he took the plunge. Closing that slip of space between their lips once and for all… and he put everything he had behind it.

It’d be a surprise, sure, if it weren’t all a part of the (rather spontaneous) plan—though, this takes absolutely nothing from the excitement of it all. Leaning into the kiss with a tongue desperately overlapping with his, Shauntal’s succumbing feels more right than it does random. If what Alistair says is true, then that’s all the more validation she needs to allow her hands to caress along his shoulders, traveling lower, their clumsy attempts greedily peeling at the layers of clothes clinging to his frame.

She’s exercising force of her own, surprisingly difficult to muster, though no less vigilant; against the wall she’s able to push him, its paintings and artworks rattling with the sudden impact of their heated embrace. Her hands continue their workings, fiddling for buttons, for zippers, for anything that’d bring him closer into her—despite her finesse with prose, in the heat of such a moment as this, grace is all abandoned.

“It’s tastes as if it’s out of love,” she murmurs, continuing to consume what of the man she can, as her own body heat steadily rises; somehow, seemingly in an instant, every one-night stand she’d ever entertained cannot hold a flame to this moment of unadulterated, though well-earned, lust—not with a genuine object of affection now returning her own longings. “Are you able to taste it, as well?”

Rhetorical, maybe, though when had Shauntal ever been one to not bend her words into weapons to appease her own desires? While her hands reach beneath fabric, soft grazes of her fingertips tracing along Alistair’s battle wounds with infinite precision, delicate lines drawn up and down his torso, her exploration continues. Pressing against the Orrean with the entirety of her body, she breaks the kiss once more, for a long, lingering stare through those deep ruby eyes of his—jewels, glittering with a primal urge that she, too, has given herself wholly unto.

“I’m– incredibly glad you decided to pay me a visit. I really want to make this worth your while, Alistair... you deserve nothing less.”

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Gengar 💀©

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orrerunaway-nsfw​:

Alistair went to speak, he definitely did, he wanted to say exactly what he thought she was thinking. It wasn’t fear of anything necessarily negative, it was fear of his own feelings, fear of himself, fear of what they were sharing at that moment, love. But her actions were driving that fear away, over and over again, they always did in the end. For a man who’d seen horrors comparable to those in Shauntal’s writings, it was odd that he’d be the one hesitant, but yet again, she robbed him of any chance to hesitate, a soft, gentle exhale left him as he felt her tongue against his skin, that heart rate grew even faster, but he could feel hers too. In a way, the fact he could feel hers beating at a rate akin to his own was a relief. Of course, many things can cause a heart to race, but he was choosing to believe that it was for the same reason his was. “y-… Yeah… That’s good.” He muttered, stuttering over words like a damned fool, but how could he not, the moment she asked, her teeth sank in, and he froze up, for a moment. But in a sudden turn of, perhaps fate, one of his hands left her waist, daring to glide up her form and rest upon the back of her head, keeping her in his neck, keeping her somewhere he’d longed for her to be for so long. Perhaps he misread her, but he was praying she knew what him doing that was supposed to say. “That’s all the confirmation I ever needed… A bit late maybe but… Better now than never.”

Precisely, she’d let slip out, were it not for her mouth continuing its work at the side of his neck, his hand doing well to convey that she’d found a sweet spot of his. She’d find them all, in due time, though for now allowing her teeth to sink a bit deeper—more hungrily—just to get a better taste of the man will suffice. It’ll have to: otherwise, Shauntal may fully lose herself before the fun truly can begin.

Breath hits the wet of his skin, lips continuing to caress as words break free from the back of her throat. “It’s almost comical, how long I’ve dreamt of doing just this,” before she’s once again nibbling her way up towards his jawline. Shauntal presses closer into him; were it not for their corporeal forms, she’d fear the two would fuse together from sheer passion alone. Though, as she must remind herself, there are other, more tangible ways to achieve such feats.

Tracing the underside of his jaw, peppering kisses along the way, it’s not long before their exploration ends with her lips hovering within an inch of his own. It’s a daring position, his hand still cradling the back of her head with its guidance, with a force that hadn’t been apparent during the previous caution he’d exercised. Shauntal’s enthralled with how quickly he’d become himself once again—she’s even happier knowing, in part, that this is partially her fault.

Eyes break from his own, and focus themselves on his mouth; desperately, she wishes to lunge forth, though toying with him for even another millisecond seems more fulfilling. She’s always been a tease, for better or for worse, though she knows Alistair isn’t one to mind. Making this experience satiable for him has become her priority; after all, his unexpected appearance this evening had been evidence enough—evidence that this is something he’s been wanting, evidence that the two had more in common when concerning their intentions for one another than they’d ever realized.

But, to tease she must; hovering closer, she laps against his lips, denying that kiss she’d been wanting for the sake of another playful gesture. One to show she’s fully invested in him, his body, and his soul.

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orrerunaway-nsfw​:

His grip was still rather light, but still firm. He always was quite predictable, but likely even more so for her of all people. After all those years dealing with him, there was no way she didn’t know him nearly inside out. At least as far as how he did things went. Shauntal likely saw him dragging her in right up against him coming, but that didn’t change the fact it was exactly what he did.

Every touch from her sent his heart racing, the tracing over those scars, and then brushing those strands away… all of them made that heart of his beat harder and harder. To say he missed her would be a genuine understatement, and an extreme one at that. With them chasing such different things, it would be expected for them to be apart, but that never made him miss the writer less.

“The only reason this took me so long… is because this feeling has been here for such a long time, Shauntal, and it scared me…” He gave her a genuine response, perhaps a slightly out of place one, but he always was rather out of place. But even as they spoke, his gaze never shifted, his eyes remained locked upon hers, unflinching, unmoving. Completely transfixed upon the only thing that mattered in that moment, her.

“Maybe I’ve been trying to read you like those books of yours, maybe I’ve wanted you to confirm something we should have confirmed a long time ago… Shauntal, please…”

“...scared you, mmm?” Oh, now that choice of words is incredibly enticing, she’d be a fool to pretend it didn’t give her a slight flush of adrenaline. Fear in its most palpable form is her specialty, but fear when it pertains to emotions closer to (dare she say) love than dread? That is something she, too, could frankly envision herself cowering before, typically terrified to take even one step into such uncharted territories...

Even still, Alistair makes it feel as if there is nothing to fear. As a matter of fact, she’s never felt safer than when being in his presence. And, for a woman who dabbles in the dark arts and frequents the liminal spaces separating the dead from the living, that says more than enough. So, how can she possibly deny herself moving forward, what with the safety of his hands holding her so firmly in place?

It’s with that slight submission in his voice, shaky despite never losing that coarseness she’s come to adore, that brings her to close in on the man’s neck. Replacing fingers with her tongue, she continues tracing those scars, hoping to elicit from him what she’s needing most in this moment: confirmation that his words hold their weight, and that she’s not completely missing these cues.

“How is this for your confirmation...?” There’s a slight hiss of menace, though no less seductive, as she allows her teeth to sink softly into his flesh—not enough to leave a mark, though fully committed to expressing the possibility of such. Arms find themselves draped over his shoulders, Shauntal not daring to recoil or turn away any longer. Now that she has him precisely where she’s wanted him, and for so long, breaking away would be the gravest of mistakes.

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orrerunaway-nsfw​:

There’s a sort of relaxed feeling that he felt finally not having to stare into those lenses she wore, not because he didn’t like them, far the contrary, Alistair adored her glasses. But he adored the actual sight of her eyes even more.

“You know…. Shauntal. You could entertain me with a single word. Let alone an entire list.~” He’d coo in return, once again, going along with her pace. In fact, for someone who was usually so impatient, Alistair was finding the pace she was settling very enjoyable. Perhaps it was all that tension, or perhaps it was because it was her, he enjoyed nonetheless.

He froze up yet again, this time much, much more noticeably so. Her hands sent chills through his entire being, but rather than fear, he loved it. It felt right to him, perfect even. “And if you were to forget me, I’d do the same in a heartbeat. No matter what it took, or cost.” Alistair did intend to speak further, but those fingers upon his neck, they did away with that for a moment.

That moment didn’t last so long, Alistair moved a little quickly, both hands placing themselves upon Shauntal’s waist and using that hold to pull her in, whatever space there was between them left, it was gone. “And it goes without saying that, to me, you are a woman without any peers of equal value, if you catch my drift.”

It could’ve elicited a small gasp in surprise, his hands securing themselves against her frame, though that’d imply that this surprise wasn’t exactly what she’d been anticipating. Neatly so, Shauntal gives into the embrace, her coy act slowly dissolving as the commotion below in the street becomes a hum beneath the sound of a loudly-beating heart.

She removes the strands that dangle from above Alistair’s brow, delighting in the full picture of a face she’d long been missing—far more than she’d realized prior to tonight. In fact, within the short span of time since his arrival, a multitude of thoughts all centering around the Orrean began settling in explicable cohesion. Shauntal has genuinely missed him, missed the opportunities she had once passed reluctantly, as both went about pursuing their goals at their own personal paces, miles away from one another...

Though she’s not a believer in fate, tonight would do well to change her mind—even if for a few glorious hours.

“If I’m so peerless,” darkness in her eyes meeting the blood-stained red of the man’s, “then what’s taken you so long to grace my doorway...?” Those dainty fingers again rise, now cupping both of his cheeks delicately, though not without a certain firmness—it’s commanding, but submissive, a very fine line that she’s always balancing upon. They go back to tracing his scars with care, though her gaze is unabating. 

“You know, they say it’s rude to keep a woman waiting... but I suppose you’ve come to make that up to me, no?”

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a shadow accompanying him

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inspired by this fic

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orrerunaway-nsfw​:

He couldn’t help but let out a light, rather quiet, chucke in response to her response to his suggestion, though it was just a joking suggestion. “Oh it does have a ring to it, definitely, quite pleasant on the ear. Like you tend to be.”

Pleasant on the ears he says, purposely neglecting to mention the obvious pleasure on the eyes she happens to be. That didn’t stop the smirk already painted on his face from growing, he’d note her gaze, his own meeting it the entire time. There was something difficult for him to explain about them, even with her lenses in the way, he could tell where they were looking. “Well, it helps if said spirits know of your own personal pleasures, doesn’t it? But if we are in agreement, no, I see no harm in it.” it really was a miracle of sorts that neither of them had slipped up before, letting the other know of that admiration that was, unknowingly in his case, mutual. But he had all the fuel he needed to chase those dreams of his, she’d always encouraged him rather well. But that tension… A pin could drop and disturb it, but nothing would. “So..?” He responded in kind, an eyebrow raised, even if it was a mere act, he did love playing along with her at this point. Nothing could snatch his attention away from Shauntal now, and that was exactly how he liked it. “I mean, I guess it could be considered quite momentous, yes. But being a Champion doesn’t mean I ever forgot about you, not for a damn second. I don’t think I’m capable of forgetting about you.”

With the removal of her glasses, nothing remains to shield the ink-colored pools of her eyes, curled lashes doing well to frame them as they remain unwavering. A wandering hand secures her wine glass, lipstick marks adorning the rim as she wafts the scents up to marvel in its rich aroma. There’s a sensuality in its robust, full-bodied flavor that’s doing well to set a mood, as entirely unexpected as it is.

“My personal pleasures, oh~ that list is quite long,” she coos, standing before the Orrean with little now separating the two. “But, perhaps I can entertain you by letting you in on a few of them... now that we’ve established there’s no harm in it, right?”

Reaching up, a delicate hand cups the man’s cheek, fingers tracing gently along a scar she finds particularly beautiful. “Even if you were to hypothetically forget about me, I’d do anything I could to remind you—whatever it’d take.” Her sincerity accompanies the trailing of her fingers down his neck, before she withdraws them suddenly. Shauntal’s teetering towards dangerous territory, but that’s precisely what’s become exciting about this spontaneous encounter. She’d balance along that edge for as long as the man would have her, willfully so.

“Glad that isn’t something we have to worry ourselves over, though. It would take quite a bit of divine intervention to wipe my thoughts of you away, after all. You’re a man unlike any other, Alistair.” Her velvet tongue whispers just inches from his face now, smooth as it is reassuring. “Which is perhaps why I find myself so fond of you.”

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orrerunaway-nsfw​:

“To not come and see you, that would have been unforgivable, truly.” Alistair always appreciated how forthcoming she was, it showed trust, trust that, like she already knew, was reciprocated. That coy tone from her, it threw Alistair off somewhat, it seemed that side of her was as alien to him as the side he’d shown her was to Shauntal. He couldn’t quite pin it down, not so easily, but he liked the feeling it gave him. Shauntal never failed to endear himself to him, even if she wasn’t trying. “Oh I know you’d adore it, after all, I wonder who’s writing it would be so, so similar to? Couldn’t be similar to a Miss Bordeaux’s writing now, could it? Should I do the world a favour and pen it as a Mr Bordeaux while I’m at it?” He met her comment with a smirk, himself taking a few more steps too, that joint effort closing the gap between the pair. No bravado that time, just going with the flow it seemed Shauntal was directing, for the moment. “I’m flattered to find that it seems we’ve had shared thoughts then, though, you should be careful with what you invite, Shauntal, you of all people should know the dangers of inviting mean spirits to do as they please.”

A bit of that familiar flame starts flickering with every word that leaves Alistair’s lips, which causes Shauntal’s to curl as well. It’s immensely satisfying seeing all sides of his complex character, knowing she’s given glimpses at the parts of Alistair that he typically kept close to himself. “’Mr. Bordeaux’... I can’t lie as if that doesn’t have a certain ring to it.” Her chuckle comes along more as a sigh, dreamily peeking out to the streets below for a quick moment before fully turning to take in her guest’s form.

“If what these ‘mean spirits’ please mirror my own personal pleasures, then I don’t really see any harm in it. Do you?” Her gaze remains fixated, inviting, not at all withdrawn as Shauntal notes Alistair’s battle-worn physique. There’s a powerful energy radiating beneath that rugged charm of his, an all-telling sign that he’s been hard at work seeing his dreams to fruition. 

As one of his biggest supporters and most dedicated of admirers, Shauntal muses over his intentions for surprising her this evening even more so now. The two can quip with the best of them, though tonight, it’s different. There’s a tension in the air that by no means is unwelcome—if anything, she’s finding it increasingly addictive.

“So...” Teasingly, she inches closer, eyes peering from behind lenses that she’d been planning to remove. “Do tell what it is about me that’s been haunting you lately...? I mean, it must be pretty momentous, otherwise I wouldn’t have the pleasure of having a Champion in my home this late at night.”

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orrerunaway-nsfw​:

A pleasant surprise? The fact he wasn’t met with hostility based on the fact he’d arrived unannounced was a very, very pleasant surprise for himself. Then again, she could have snapped at him for interrupting, and he’d have likely still seen it as such. Shauntal was always pleasant to him Of course, he was aware of her writings, he’d provided a lot of accounts to help with her endeavour, but he never knew what exactly she was writing down. He liked that though, always meant he had a surprise when she finished. Shauntal was just full of those, surprises. “I hope my sudden c- arrival, hasn’t caused any alarm, Shauntal, I’d hate for that.” The redhead spoke, softly for once, as he moved out of the door-frame he was shadowing, taking a couple steps her way, but not too many. Not out of fear, he never feared her or the pokemon she kept as company, he had his own ghosts after all. But then she went on speaking, and that had him freeze, that bravado she’d been met with did not last long enough at all. “I mean- I-… Shit… Yeah. That was me being romantic, Shauntal. Or, trying at least, likely failing. I’m not the one who produces eloquent words here.” He stuttered, far more than he should have really, but once she added on afterwards, a little bit of that bravado came back. “You like it huh..? Should I keep it up then? Maybe write a book about it for you?”

“Alarm...? I’d be more alarmed had you been in the region and not stopped by—you know my door is always open, for you.” Few she’s capable of being so forthcoming with, but Alistair makes it easy; his gruff exterior hides a earnestness to those he deems worthy of his loyalty and, despite a few of his antagonistic tendencies, Shauntal’s always been smitten with him for it.

Something she’s done well to keep to herself, though her visage may very well crumble should she lose her composure in the man’s presence.

A few of her specters poke their heads through the walls to assess the situation happening within the den. Glances towards Alistair and the coyishness being exhibited by their trainer tell them all they need to know, and soon they phase back through the walls to continue their haunts around the apartment complex. The city’s cacophony outside seems to deafen, Shauntal’s silk robe hugging tight to her frame as another sip of blood red wine wets her taste buds.

“A book written by Orre’s greatest Champion... now, that’s something I’d love to get my hands on,” she goes to close more of the distance between the two, sighing with a bit of relief that this once-quiet evening that edged near boredom was now livening up and welcomingly so. The wine glass is settled atop a desk, vinyls stacked neatly beside a record player. Shauntal does well to seem busy, though her attentions never fully rip away from the visitor of the hour.

“But admittedly, yes—I do fancy seeing this side of you.” Alistair is gifted a wink, sly yet revealing. “Keep at it, though, and I’m afraid I can’t promise I won’t return the favor. I’ve been thinking a bit about you lately, myself.” Dare she say she’s missed him? No, or at the very least, not yet.

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There's a VERY smug redhead coming into the Ghost-Writer's room, and not her room at the league, Alistair was making a house call, unheard of from him really. But it wasn't the first time he'd visited Shauntal, after all, this was the same woman that had taught him a lot, and he'd lost count of how many times he'd ended up awake late into the night listening to her. Even so, Alistair hadn't come to learn tonight, rather, he'd come to see her 

There was always something about Shauntal that kept him listening, something he always tried to put a finger on, alas, he never could. He knew what the feeling was, given it'd been half a decade since they'd met he'd had plenty of time to come to terms with that feeling. But did he dare mention it? No. Never. There was no way a woman of her calibre and intellect would ever even HUMOUR such a thing. 

Unfortunately for him, or her, he'd felt a little courageous that evening, and just happened to be around anyway, and given he wasn't in Unova so much, being a champion of his own home region,  what harm could it do? 

  "Sorry to barge in unannounced, Shauntal. It's been a little while huh? But... Well, I was around, and you know I know how to get in here, and honestly, even while I've been back home in Orre, I've been thinking. You must be a ghost because you’ve been haunting my dreams. Constantly, without fail even."

“What a pleasant surprise,” which is an understatement, considering the Orrean man had been plaguing her thoughts as of late. She’d been wrapping up her latest work, a sequel to the best-seller conceived with the help of her dear acquaintance, someone who since their first meeting has helped to inspire a wealth of ideas. One could say, in several ways, that Alistair is one of her many muses—and, without question, one of her favorites.

She rises from the armchair that’d been her perch for the evening, wine glass half-empty as she saunters across the living space towards the door frame in which he shadows. Glow from her multitude of lamps provides the apartment with a soft, otherworldly atmosphere, a far cry from the cramped and hectic streets of Castelia just beyond its walls. The ambiance is quickly broken, however, as coquettish laughter erupts from the woman’s gut. Humoring a person like Shauntal is a hard task to manage, though Alistair succeeds each and every time.

Still, she’s intrigued by these words—a confession, perhaps?

Something’s amiss in his generally-aloof bravado, too, prompting her to tap a finger against the curl of her lips. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that this is you being romantic, Alistair.” Not an insult in the slightest; if anything, it begs the opposite. “I’ll admit—I quite like this side of you... heinous puns included.” 

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“We may have lost, but I must say~ Rika is quite the riveting one to watch. I find her energy absolutely fascinating,” Shauntal’s already put pen to paper, perhaps to detail more on the nuances she picked up in the Paldean Elite’s battling style?

“I'd wish her luck in her future matches, though with her skills... I’m not sure she’ll need it~”

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From the PWT Committee, you receive a sash bearing the colors and markings of your home region. On the shoulder, the familiar symbol of the Pokemon League, and a patch representing your competitive bracket.

But pinned into the sash is also a small polished stone that shimmers between teal, blue, and purple, all around a shape at the center that appears to be a twisted double helix. 

A Mega Stone. 

This is part of your uniform. A letter of assurance from the League states that you’ll be able to use this in the confines of the Stadium, that the Mega Stone is a tool that will allow you to Mega Evolve any of your Pokemon…

Only in Saffron Stadium. 

The choice belongs to you. Choose wisely.

Ruminating about her library full of specters, deep abyss below her arena seeming to stretch endlessly (all illusionary, of course: were you to fall from this height, your body will meet the floor and you will die), the writer tears away from her latest manuscript; Le Faye can be seen ascending the stairs, scampering forth with a package for the Elite. 

“...oh?”

She can already deduce its contents, but nonetheless feigns surprise and awe when said contents are revealed. “Such a lovely gesture~ I’ll have to repay the entire audience with a beautiful nightmare of my own.” No one will be sleeping after her battle, that much is most certain.

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POV: you’re greeting shauntal at the pwt2