#pokemon angst fic

[nartothelar]

But for the vampire au, have you considered Emmet getting Severely Hurt™️ and Ingo turning him to keep his brother alive?

Or do they have an agreement to just let things happen?

“No.” Emmet responds simply, decisively.

The answer is expected and yet, the disappointment Ingo feels is an unwelcome heaviness, his constant frown turning genuine without it meaning to.

Ingo had asked the very same question thrice times now.

Once was when they were kids. It was casual inquiry that came with little prompting; he had asked out of curiosity more than anything. Ingo had asked Emmet after they had defeated a trio of challengers off hand. Emmet had laughed, light and airy, when he answered. They had gotten ice cream using their winnings after.

The second time had been following a much more harrowing experience. A safety check forgotten, a simple mistake by a depot agent newly hired, had resulted in a derailed train. Fortunately only a few were injured. Unfortunately, one of those few was Emmet.

Ingo had asked him with bags under his eyes, something quite silly since Ingo didn’t even need to sleep. (Was that makeup? Emmet had joked with an exhausted smile.)

Emmet, laying in that hospital bed, IV's in his arm and a cask around his left leg, had responded much the same, a chuckle rather than a laugh. Perhaps his headache had come back to manage much more than that. Ingo didn’t attempt to change his mind and offered him the chicken noodle soup Elesa had brought for him.

And the third time was right now: Ingo sitting across from Emmet in the dining room of their shared apartment. It was morning and even though the windows curtains were drawn, the room was illuminated with a soft glow. In front of his brother was a plate of eggs and toast, him nursing a cup of black coffee. In front of Ingo was just a cup of tea, untouched and cooling.

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

“But why don’t you want to be a vampire?”

The way he asks shows his cards far to easily. Whoever had said Subway Boss Ingo was hard to read must have not tried at all.

His brother looks at him, assessing him, and then looks away.

Emmet is silent for a minute, simply gazing at the cup in front of him. His food was getting cold.

Most would think Emmet was being hesitant when answering, that this was a sign he didn’t want to answer at all. But Ingo knows him well. He knows he wants to go over what he will day and that he voices his thoughts properly.

Ingo is patient and waits. Finally, Emmet answers.

“I like the sun.” His brother says, looking at him. The color of his eyes haven’t dulled all these years. “It feels warm on my skin. It feels good.”

“I love eating. The taste, the action. Yup!" Emmet picks at his plate with a hum. "I want to eat what I like, when I like."

“I like my independence." Ingo's tea leaves an ashy taste as he sips it - a floral chamomile bag floats at the bottom of it. "I do not want to be dependent on others. I do not want to be dependent on things out of my control."

"I know that I will have to sometimes." Emmet really looks at him now. "And that is ok. But I still feel the same way.”

Ingo squeezes his mug, before he relaxes his grip. Emmet notices.

Emmet lays his palm on his chest, closing it into a fist near the middle.

“I like being human.” It sounds final, the words like a gavel to wood, the way it echoes in his mind. “I do not want to be a vampire.”

Ingo wants to argue. To convince him that the pros outweigh the insignificant cons, but he does not. No. Usually Ingo is more eloquent with his words, but the fear that rises up in his throat makes his usually well thought out words more brisk, more succinct, more honest as he says the obvious.

“But you are aging.” Ingo says. You are dying, Ingo tries, fails, and a refrains to add.

Ingo hands are smooth, his face without a wrinkle. He looks as the same as he as when he first became a subway boss. He has since he was sent to Hisui. Forever youthful. And Emmet.

Emmet's hands are calloused, wrinkled from years of maintenance at gear station. His hair is thinning and his temples were turning white. His stride not as brisk as it was years ago.

“I am.” Emmet replies. “And I will continue to age.”

Ingo knows Emmet. He is stubborn, just like himself. That is how he is. He knows he will not change his mind. And that makes him clench his jaw, look down at his cup with furrowed brow.

“Ingo.”

Ingo snaps his head up, fear turning to anger that makes him feel sick. He should not be angry, but he is.

“Then you plan to reach your final stop?” Emmet’s smile dims. Ingo continues anyway. “Leave this station?” Without me? Ingo clamps down before he utters the accusation.

“You....you will have me wait here for you to die? And do nothing?!”

And there it is. Ingo barring his greatest fear since he got turned. The thing that has plaguing his mind since he stood at the grave of his old clan leader in Hisui, at the cemetery where his other wardens were laid to rest. What he had realized as he saw time passes by, years of constant goodbyes and tearful farewells.

It was that, no matter how grand his ideals, the simple truth of the matter was that he was utterly powerless to the passage of time.

Ingo doesn't realize that he has stood up until he is already towering over Emmet's seated form. His fangs barred and he suspects his eyes are slits.

And despite that, Emmet looks calm. He looks...sad.

“I didn’t ask for this.” Ingo says softly, deflated as the anger leaves his body. To live on as those around him pass. To see enjoy his life without the people he cares most around him.

Ingo feels arms wrap around him and he wraps trembling arms around Emmet too, his head laying on his shoulder. They stay like that for a moment, simply holding each other, not letting go.

"I'm sorry I never gave you the choice." Emmet finally says. Ingo's hands grip at Emmet's shirt. "We were young. You were dying. And I was desperate. I did not want to lose you..."

Emmet pulls back after that, not all the way, but enough to look into Ingo's face. His fangs have retracted, his eyes normal again. "But those details do not matter now, do they?" Emmet sighs out, that sad smile still there.

"They matter. Of course they matter." Ingo protests, but he doesn't elaborate pass that.

Emmet looks at the floor, thinking about his words and looks at Ingo again before saying, "Everything reaches its final terminal."

"Not me." Ingo says. It comes out bitter.

"Everything does." Emmet repeats, shaking his head. He squeezes Ingo's forearm before he lets go. "I did not give you a choice. but you can choose for yourself now."

His brother’s crows feet, a result from decades worth of smiles, crinkle at the edges as he looks at him. "Just as I choose for myself."

Ingo dwells on those words, on what his brother is offering. A choice and a decision to make. Emmet looks at him and Ingo understands.

With a sigh (a concession, a compromise), Ingo nods and accepts Emmet's answer.

That heaviness Ingo feels is not fully gone from his mind, but it has lightened, the tension of the room dispersing like the morning fog.

Emmet notices, smiles, and sits back down to finish his breakfast. Ingo follows. And then the silence is filled anew with his brother's latest retelling of yet another dealing he had with a rude passenger yesterday.

Ingo listens and they both laugh and talk and all is right and as it should be that morning, in their shared moment of time.

Him and his brother were a two car train, always have been, no matter their differences. And no matter what, he was going to be there with him until his brother's final destination.

And then after that, once that engine has long gone cold, Ingo would decide when his last stop was too.

#AH HA WHOOPS I MADE IT A FIC LMAO #the idea that ingo will outlive emmet one day is one I think about a lot #on a more hopeful note people have mentioned ememt could very well just turn into a ghost pokemon so that they live both forever? #technically? #vampire au #vampire ingo #submas #emmet #kudari #nobori #ingo #pokemon #pokemon fanart #fanart #pokemon fic #fic #long post #angst #??? i think sksks #it ends bittersweet

[blaiddraws]

some fanart for THIS FIC aka. ingo gets his spleen stolen. and more!

bonus blood-free version of third drawing

#pokemon #submas #ingo #submas angst #submas au #recs #hisuian zoroark #blood #injury #been a bit since I've done fic fanart! #pla era

[dipplinduo]

Live footage of me re-reading a scene I just finished writing for S&S D, as if I haven't had it planned for weeks

#I have been self-isolating and scheming and zeroing in to get the next update out soon folks. Aiming for later today! #...ya might wanna schedule ur therapy appts tho #jfc #LOL #its just the ANGST LORE #stupid peach #ribombee lore #my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #juliana pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana x kieran #lets make these breadcrumbs bigger... #🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️🌪️ #I PROMISE I'mma be in my feels with you okay I PROMISE OOF #I will be more active on platforms once update is out thx for ur patience <3

[artsy0wl]

Champion Night Terrors

Another attempt at Truerivalshipping (leonxRaihan/Leohan). This time a little angstier.

CW for light violence/abuse. Link to it on AO3 at the end.

“I thought we were making progress. He was eating, and he was starting to smile again. He’s been sleeping through the night and finally remembering that he is safe.”

Raihan pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes tightly closed. His free hand tightly clenched the mug in his hand, shaking. Across from him sat Leon’s mother. Worn eyes watch Raihan, listening to him with patience and attentiveness.

His visit, though unexpected, was welcomed. And his concerns heartfelt. And given who his concerns were for, she couldn’t be more appreciative.

“It’s not your fault.” She assured as her hand lightly held his.

“I know,” Raihan released the bridge of his nose, letting his hand rest, “but last night he woke up again screaming and crying.” He shook his head. “Something’s going on in that fuzzy head of his and he refused to tell me.”

“He doesn’t want to worry.” Leon’s mom stated, knowing that all too well.

He shrugged. “Unfortunately, it’s too late for that, mama champ. I’m worried sick.”

There was a pause. One long enough for the sound of the door opening and closing to sound off. Picking the mug up with both hands, Raihan took a sip of coffee.

“Ma, I’m home!” Hop’s voiced greeted as footsteps honed in on the kitchen. “Is everything alright? Why is…” Realizing Raihan was in the kitchen with his mom, Hop’s demeanor shifted. “Oh! Hey Raihan.”

“Hey, Hop.” Raihan greeted. “It’s good to see you.”

Hop smiled then looked to his mom. “Is Lee okay?” He inquired. “He always said he hated sleeping on the couch because it was too firm.”

His mom smiled, comfortingly. “He’s alright. You know you’re brother. Runs himself ragged when left unchecked. Leon’s just a little under the weather and Raihan wanted some tips.”

“Oh… okay.” He looked to Raihan as he headed for the stairs. “He likes lavender tea. He likes the smell of it and it always makes him happy.”

Raihan smirked, appreciating the suggestion. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He watched as Hop went up the stairs, only turning to face the boy’s mother when he heard the door close. “Is it okay to lie to him like that?”

“He worries about Leon enough as is.” She noted. “And I think I speak for all of us when I say Leon wouldn’t want Hop to worry about this.”

“You’re not wrong. It just doesn’t feel right.”

“I appreciate the concern, but if Hop does find out, that should be up to Leon.” Raihan gave her a resigned and understanding nod. “Now, you said you might have a theory.”

“Right.” He readjusted his position. “So… it seems like this started up after Rose tried to trigger the Darkest Day. Between that and his loss, I thought that maybe he was just having a hard time processing the emotional stress. However, last nights night terror sparked after watching the court case and former chairman Rose yelling at the judge. Leon flinched when he did. So I suspect there’s something more sinister to Rose than I previously thought.” He paused, leaning forward. “He was sponsored by Rose, yeah? Do you know if he ever got… aggressive with Leon?”

Eyes curiously moved around as Leon’s mother thought for a moment. She tried to recall whatever she could about the sponsorship and Leon’s journey to becoming a Campion. She folded her arms as one hand rested beneath her chin.

“If he was I never saw it.” She admitted. “Nor did Leon ever say anything about it. During Rose’s sponsorship him, Leon always appeared happy. He still carries that demeanor to this day. And Rose always seemed kind to Leon until recently.” She nodded at the memory. “He treated Leon like his own son. Praised him for his hard work, stating how Leon was just the champion Galar needed.” Her head tilted. “If he did do anything, I could never read the signs, which I’d deeply regret never realizing. Rose never gave me a reason to suspect…”

A frightened whimper echoed from the other room, silencing her statement. The dragon specialist felt a chill go down his spine as another, slightly louder, whimper emerge. Raihan jumped from his chair running to the living room. Leon’s mom wasn’t too far behind, stopping at the doorway, watching in panic as Raihan helped her son.

Leon’s body was tightly curled, despite it’s anxious shaking. His eyes were tightly shut, tears forming. Approaching the couch, Raihan shuffled around. He sat Leon up as he sat on the couch and pulled the champion on his lap. Arms wrapped around Leon as Raihan’s hand rested on the back of Leon’s head, gently stroking purple hair.

“Leon, it’s okay.” Raihan whispered. “You’re safe.”

Shaking his head unconsciously, Leon hissed. Low mumbling escaped Leon. Scrambled jumbling of what sounded like words. Leon unconsciously thrashed in Raihan’s grip, letting out a fearful cry.

Raihan said nothing, holding Leon tight. He didn’t care if he got hurt, knowing that if he let go of Leon, the man would unintentionally hurt himself. A scream escaped Leon then a gasp as he regained consciousness.

Wide amber eyes scanned the room, confused and anxious. His mind slowly started to collect itself as Leon realized he was home. And as he focused on his mother, his eyes started to water as he realized he had frightened her.

“I’m sorry.” Leon apologized, covering his eyes.

Leon’s mother let out a soft sigh, lightly smiling. “It’s okay, honey.” She sat down on the couch. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“But I’m the… champion. I can’t be afraid. And I’m certainly not supposed to cry.”

Leon felt his body being constricted as Raihan tightened his embrace. “Leon, if you think we care about that, you’re wrong. Champion or not, you’re human like the rest of is. You’re allowed to show emotion.”

“But-“

The sound of a door swinging open alarmed the trio. Leon’s head bobbed trying to locate the sound. His mother was the first to realize it came from upstairs.

“Mom?!” Hop shouted as he started moving.

Horrified that Hop possibly witnessed any of this, Leon frantically looked between Raihan and his mother. She and Raihan exchanged glances. She got up, heading for the stairs.

“Everything’s alright, Hop!” She replied as she walked up the stairs.

There was a moment of agonizing silence until they no longer heard Hop or the duo’s mother. Shoulder’s deflated as Leon leaned into Raihan. The smell of bonfires, soothing him slightly.

“I’m sorry, Raihan.” Leon apologized.

“You don’t need to apologize.” Raihan stated, brushing bangs off of Leon’s face. “I just… I’m just… Leon, I’m worried about you. I want to help you, but I feel like you're shutting me out.”

Sitting up, Leon looked up at Raihan, guilty and scared. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I just don’t want to worry you by burdening you with my stupid trauma.”

A hand clasped the side of Leon’s face. “I AM worried! You’re not a burden. And your trauma is not stupid.” Raihan gently kissed Leon’s forehead. “Please… let me help you.”

Taking a deep breath, Leon shuffled off of Raihan’s lap. Sitting on his knees, Leon sat on the ground in front of his boyfriend. Amber eyes refused to acknowledge Raihan. Not even when Raihan joined him on the floor. Fists clenched on Leon’s lap, as he tried to find the right words.

Raihan watched him in silence, not planning to force a response out of Leon.

“I thought he was a good man.” Leon stated. “He saw potential in me and thought I would go far.”

Leon stumbled back, a fresh bruise forming on his cheek. His Charmeleon ran over to him, concerned. Leon tried not to react, but his shock and pain were undeniable. He winced, looking at Chairman Rose for answers.

“You got cocky.” Rose lectured.

”I won, didn’t I?”

“Only after you nearly caused your Axew to faint against a Hatterene. You know Fairy types beat it.” He approached Leon with disappointment and annoyance. “Then you got in a fight with that trainer all because you let his insults get to you.”

”He called me a shit trainer and a waste of space.”

Rose’s voice raised. “I don’t care! He could have said you smelled like a Skuntank for all I care. Champions do not let crash words get to them. I’m very disappointed in you.”

Leon gasped, faltering. His shoulders slumped and he took a few steps back. Holding back the urge to scream, he bit his tongue. Rose’s demeanor shifted, softening with a smile. Approaching Leon, he pat his head.

“I’m sorry, Leon.” He apologized. “You have to realize that the world is watching and I’d hate to see you’re reputation sour. Especially this soon. So takes this as a lesson in how to be humble.”

Hands clenched Leon’s pant legs. “I was only sixteen and he hit me like I was a grown man. It was the first time he hit me, but not the last.”

Raihan leaned towards Leon, hands holding Leon’s. Amber eyes gazed at Raihan, holding back tears.

“There’s more.” Leon admitted as one of Raihan’s hands held his arm.

“You don’t have to-“

“Please… I need to tell you. I need to let this go.”

Bruised hands slammed on a locked closet door. How long had he been in there? Minutes? Hours? Days?

“Let me out!” Leon shouted.

He was terrified. Tears streaking down his face. Leon lost a battle. The first in since he started his journey.

“You need to learn that your actions have consequences.” Rose stated from the other side. “I hate punishing you, Leon, but after today, I might have been wrong in sponsoring you.”

Footsteps shuffled, leaving Leon alone on the dark. The sounds of screams echoing behind him.

“He left me in there for so long, multiple times.” Leon recalled, holding back tears. “He wanted me to learn to ‘overcome the solitude’ I would face as a Champion. But I was afraid. So very afraid.”

Thumbs lightly rubbed tears away as Raihan’s hands cupped Leon’s face. “You don’t have to tell me anymore.” Raihan whispered, heart aching for Leon.

Hands grabbed Raihan’s wrists. “One last confession.” Leon pleased. “For me. Please. I can’t hold onto it anymore.”

He did it. He finally did it. Leon was now the Champion. Yet, everything was not as it seemed. Something off.

Leon had lost weight. Though he had muscle, he was leaner than he should be. His attire was neat and and his stance was confident. Yet, his smile, warm and welcoming, hid exhaustion and pain.

Retiring to his hotel room, Leon cleaned up. Washing his face, a bruise and scratch on his cheek emerged from their concealer shield. Dark circles rimmed his eyes as he sighed.

“You did wonderful out there.” Rose applauded, entering his room with a spare key. “The crowd loves you.”

“Mhm.”

Leon continued on. He wasn’t meaning to come off as standoffish. He was just tired from the celebratory ceremony.

SMACK

Leon yelped, stepping back as the scratch on his face started bleeding. Amber eyes flashed, dilated as they watched Rose. Hands grabbed him, shaking him violently.

“Don’t you dare ignore me, young man.” Rose lectured. “I made you. You are nothing without me.”

“I’m sorry.” Leon apologized, his voice weak and tears forming. His cheek stung as he was hit again then went numb.

“And don’t you dare cry. Champions don’t cry. Smile!” Fearful, Leon listened. “Good. Now, freshen up. The dinner starts in thirty minutes.”

He pushed Leon back, throwing him against the wall. A light thud could be heard as Leon’s head lightly bounced off it. Leon leaned forward, face hidden beneath hair as his gaze fell to the ground. Rose left him there, opening the door. He looked back at Leon with disgust.

“What do you have to say, young man?” All Rose heard was a mumble. “Speak up!”

“Thank you.” Leon softly replied.

“You’re welcome. Now wear that red suit and you better happy when I come back.”

Rose slammed the door behind him and left. Leon, now alone, slid down and sat on the floor. Curling up, he hugged his legs, silently crying.

“I couldn’t say anything.” Leon admitted though tears. “He was right. Without his sponsorship, I wouldn't be where I am today.” A choked gasp escaped him. “I may have pretended to be happy for my safety at times, but I was genuinely happy about becoming the Champion.” Shaking his head, Leon looked away. “He’s been there for me since the beginning and I admired him. I couldn’t just forget years of kindness because he hurt me.”

Leon was now sobbing. Choked cries scratched his throat and heavy tears flooded his sight. His body shook like a branch in the wind. Fear bleed from Leon, finally releasing buried violent memories.

Arms wrapped around Leon, pulling him close. Blue eyes closed as Raihan held Leon tight. He said nothing, knowing nothing he could say would help. Leon buried his face in Raihan’s jacket, wrapping his arms around Raihan.

His mind wandered processing what he had just learned. All of the abuse Leon endured under the guise of a smile. How bad it must have gotten. An image of Rose drawing blood because he was annoyed… strict… downright abusive. It made Raihan’s blood boil.

But Raihan couldn’t worry about that now. Now with Leon in this state. Resting on Leon’s head, Raihan took in the scent of vanilla and lavender. He gently rocked back and forth in an attempt to soothe Leon. His frame lightly vibrated as Raihan began humming.

Once Leon calmed down, Raihan loosened his grip. Instead of backing up, Leon stayed put, latching onto Raihan like a Mankey to a tree. He melted as Raihan ran his hand through Leon’s hair.

“Do you want to press charges?” Raihan inquired.

Leon shook his head. “He’s already been arrested. Even if it wasn’t for what he did for me, he’s already being punished. And I still believe that there’s a good man in there somewhere.”

Though he did not agree, Raihan nodded, respecting Leon’s choice. “What about therapy? For you I mean.”

Leon rested his head on Raihan’s shoulder. “Mhm. Not today, but I’d like to soon. Could you help me?”

“Of course. I might have a recommendation or two that’ll suit you.”

Leon nodded, closing his eyes. He hummed a little, comfortable and relieved. Exhausted too.

Thinking back to how he felt, now with a clearer head, Raihan sighed. ”He’s never going to hurt you again.” He promised. “If he even thinks about getting near you, I’ll kill him.”

Leon smiled. “Thank you, my little Axew, but that won’t be necessary.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Leon shifted slightly, kissing Raihan’s cheek. “Right now, I think we could use a vacation. You think we can go to Sinnoh? I hear they have this fancy restaurant where people like to double battle and I think you’ll like Cynthia. She has a Garchomp and knows all the best ice cream shops.”

Raihan chuckled. “Sure. Why not?” He softly kissed Leon. “But first, you need to get some sleep and set up a therapy session.”

“Deal.”

~

When it had gotten too quiet too long, Hop and his mom went downstairs. They hoped Leon and Raihan hadn’t left. Or didn’t get into a fight.

Turning into the living room, Hop’s mother smiled, chuckling. Raihan and Leon were sprawled out on the ground, fast asleep. Leon’s head was resting on Raihan’s chest, purple hair wildly covering the ground. Raihan, meanwhile, had one hand wrapped around Leon’s waist and the other on Raihan’s stomach.

Hop, having ran back upstairs for a moment, entered the room with two blankets. His mither joined, taking a blanket and unfolding it. Once unfolded, they covered the sleeping duo. Neither awoke, unconsciously shifting slightly under the blankets.

Knowing they weren’t going anywhere, Hop and his mom let them be. Whatever happened, it would seem that Raihan had helped, and Leon on the mend. And for that, that deserved the rest.

#au #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #ship fic #kibana #leon #dande #raihan #pokemon #pokémon #sword and shield #angst with comfort #past trauma #truerivalshipping #raileon #leon x raihan

[seven-ruins-it]

Taking it back: a wolfstar oneshot (?)

“You still have these?” Sirius asks, holding up his Pokémon card deck with two fingers, like a cigarette, just like he had before either of them were old enough to smoke.

“I wasn’t about to throw them out,” Remus shrugs, shifting against his wall and wincing when he hears his Bowie poster crinkle. 

“What, you think they’ll be worth anything in ten years?” Sirius says, wiggling the card over to get the sun glinting in the silver part.

“I wouldn’t sell them if they were.” 

That gets him to turn with a quirked brow. After a beat, a slanted smirk grows. “You sentimental prick.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “Not everything’s about money.”

“Sure, but, c’mon.” Sirius waves the cards around before sliding them in his jacket pocket. “You’ve got me still, you don’t need the bloody shiny.” Remus pushes himself off the wall and is grappling Sirius’ arm in seconds. 

“That’s not funny, give them back.” Sirius, the prick, prickishly keeps his hands buried in his pockets and swerves any attempt Remus makes to get them out. 

“Why?” He smoothly sidesteps another dive with an infuriating amused smile. “They were mine, I’m just taking back my loan.” Remus straightens, three feet away from his friend. His room isn’t big, they’ve swam around three circles by now. 

“They were a gift, you can’t take back a gift.”

“Why not?”

“How would you feel if I took your stupid bloody radio?”

Sirius, even with his snow white complexion, blanches, smirk finally slipping off his face. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, you know I would.” He delivers it in a slow, low tone to get his point across.

Sirius shuffles the cards around in his pockets nervously, narrows his eyes. “You like Queen just as much as I do.”

“Not that loudly. And don’t forget who bought you that CD.”

Sirius’ throat audibly clicks in a swallow. “Fine, have them,” he says after a moment, putting the deck on Remus’ desk with a thud. “I don’t even get why you care so much, they’re just stupid merch for a show we barely watched.”

Remus walks over and sorts the cards into a pile. “Would you quit being obtuse? I keep them because you gave them to me.”

He doesn’t need to turn to know his friend is making a face. A stupid one. “I give you things   all the time.”

“It was different then. We were different people.”

Sirius cracks his neck. “We were shorter,” he says sardonically. 

“Yeah, well, I happen to think there’s some value in preserving memories as they happened.” He wraps the cards up with a near-crumbling elastic and puts it back in his cardboard box of childhood memorabilia. 

Sirius snorts. “Oh please, nostalgia is a lie our brains tell us because it’s always out to kill us. It’s our entire job to tell it to shut up.”

“What about our friendship makes you so eager to forget it?” Remus asks irritably, giving the box a good shove so it slides under his bed. 

“That’s not the point at all, the point is that the past is the past, good or not.”

“So do you not think the past informs the present at all? You’re just a completely new person every second.”

“Yes, actually, I do,” Sirius says, self satisfied.

“Great,” Remus says, before punching Sirius in the shoulder like he’s seen James do during Quidditch. 

“Ow!” His friend exclaims, reaching for the offended area. “The hell was that for?!”

“I don’t know, you should ask me from a second ago.” He bats his eyes innocently. “I’m a different person now.” 

Sirius punches his shoulder and Remus’ arm immediately cramps with his nerves’ protests. 

“Jesus!”

“Sorry, that was meant for you from a second ago,” he says, presumably going for impish but snarling the words.

“I was just proving a point, you did it way harder!”

“I did it just as hard as you!”

“You’re basically wearing armour with your stupid shoulder pads!” Sirius hugs his arms with raised shoulders. “I am not wearing shoulder pads, it’s just the model of all leather jackets!”

“Well, the stupid model of your stupid leather jacket has stupid shoulder pads!”

Sirius shoves him and he has to step back to catch himself, not expecting the attack. “You don’t get to call my jacket stupid when all you wear are ugly sweaters.”

Remus shoves him back, more effectively with the advantage of his height. “You’re being ridiculous!” The last word is winded because of Sirius tackling him onto his bed. They roll around grappling for the upper hand and sprinkle in petty curses. 

“You unfeeling bastard,” Remus gets in before Sirius rolls them over so he’s on top. 

“You went after my style, and you’re calling me the unfeeling one?” Sirius argues. 

“They’re ripped out of a Muggle magazine, they’re barely even your clothes ‘cause you sure as hell aren’t original,” Remus retorts.

“You’re just jealous ‘cause you can’t show your arms,” Sirius says, making both of them freeze. Their hands are clasped together but Sirius’ loosen their grip as he sits back, shocked at himself. “Remus…” he starts, but gets interrupted by Remus throwing him back, landing him on the ground with a thud and a groan. 

“Shit,” Remus says, eyes wide. He retreats into his body, still hopped up on adrenaline from the fight, his mind somewhere above him, looking at his arms frozen in front of him as a stranger’s (as a hairier iteration). He shakes himself and slides off the bed, crouching down next to his friend. “Shit,” he repeats, “Sirius, I’m so sorry, are you alright? Can you breathe?”

Sirius, worryingly, just groans again, gasping air as Remus helps him sit up and tries to teach him how to breathe again. After a minute or two, he gasps out “Fuck-” another gasp “-you.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I got so angry, or, I dunno, I couldn’t think-” he chokes out with the breath he’s been holding since Sirius hit the ground. Sirius puts a hand on his shoulder, the one he hit, and shakes his head, eyes dull from the exhaustive panic. 

“Don’t you start now.”

Remus can’t begin to think about laughing it off. “Are you in pain anywhere?” He checks the back of Sirius’ head and spine with medical touch he’s observed throughout his life but only ever handled on his own body. He finds no grievous injuries, at least not before Sirius swats him away. 

“Get off, you tit.” He holds his wrists together and meets his eyes meaningfully. “I’m fine. Some bruises but I’m fine. Nothing to write church about, alright?”

“Okay,” Remus says, finally feeling the edges of himself again, anchored by the warm hands holding him together. 

“I did deserve it, besides,” Sirius says, with a melancholic half smile that’s just as infuriating as all his smugness from before. Remus pushes his hands off and stands. 

“Like hell you do,” he says. Sirius blinks. “You don’t actually believe that crap, do you?”

“Remus,” he laughs -laughs- nervously. “C’mon, you’re allowed to be angry.”

“No, I’m not just going to sit here and.” He takes a shaky breath to collect himself and promptly sits down to level their height. “I am angry. At you, for what you said.” Sirius shifts his legs to sit criss-cross. Their knees brush before Sirius pulls him further in. “But I’m bloody furious at your mum and dad for making you think me shoving you on the floor was in any way right.” Sirius winces. 

“I’m alright, really,” he assures, but Remus shakes his head. 

“It never should’ve happened. I’m sorry about punching you, too. I never should’ve started all that, especially with my…” The remembered chill of hair growing at an impossible rate all down his back runs through his spine. The impact of Sirius’ fist against his shoulder -the other one this time- pulls him right out of it. 

“Ow!”

“Would you quit that?” Sirius demands with a look of near hurt. “People get angry, it’s got nothing to do with all that.” He leans back again. “And I’m sorry too, alright? About the cards and the… the thing I said.” Remus nods, rubbing his shoulder. Later, he knows he’ll ruminate on just how visible he is to Sirius, but right now the arm hurts more. The Quidditch has recently really bulked Sirius up, Jesus. 

“I get why you said it. It’s just that… sometimes you act like we met each other yesterday. Like we mean nothing to each other except for how entertaining we can be.”

When he looks up, Sirius is frowning. “When do I do that? I don’t think that.”

“Well, it’s just I’ve noticed-” Sirius stands.

“You’re wrong. We’ve been friends for ages, if you feel like you’re being fake that’s on you, not me.”

“I’m not the one being fake here,” Remus says affrontedly. 

“Oh yeah?” Sirius says.

“Yeah.” Remus pushes himself to his feet, wincing at the strain it puts on both of his injured shoulders.

“Then tell me how exactly I’ve been weirding you out so much.”

“I didn’t say that.” He frowns and takes a step towards his friend, but he steps back. The arguing is rapidly forming a pressure on his synapses, he’d never even meant to start anything and in his attempt to swerve them away from a cliff’s edge they were rapidly careening towards a roaring waterfall. “Oh my God, look, it’s things like that, alright? Flat out denial of things I can see are happening.” Sirius stares flatly. “Things we…” Remus scratches at the back of his ear, bothered. “Things we both remember,” he finishes softly, daring enough only for darting glances up at Sirius, still as the marble statue that served as their hiding place for many pranks throughout the years. He thinks they’d both quite prefer to be there right now, stifling their laughter, wedged in between cold stone slabs.

“What,” Sirius’ voice catches and he clears his throat. “What things. Remus.”

#canon compliant except for the pokemon cards #idk whether to post on ao3 #the marauders #marauders #dead gay wizards #marauders era #remus lupin #wolfstar #marauders fanfiction #sirius black #wolfstar fanfiction #marauders fanfic #wolfstar angst #wolfstar headcanon #wolfstar fanfic #wolfstar fic #remus lupin angst #remus loves sirius #remus x sirius #padfoot #moony x padfoot #remus angst #sirius black angst

[fangirlingpuggle]

Angsty legends Arceus submas AU/Fic prompt.

People in Sinnoh finding and old abandoned cave system in Mount Coronet, when Cynthis investigates, she realises there’s a place to insert one of the plates, specifically the ghost plate. When she does, she realises that the cave shows moments there in the past. Cynthia is fascinated seeing Pokémon from Hisui in the cave Zorua’s that are now extinct.

She’s absolutely fascinated… and then she sees a person. Dawn, as well as others.

Emmett getting a call from Sinnoh saying he needs to come and see something.

Him going to the cave and watching scenes of different times replay, ghosts of the past a recorded image form cave just like replaying a video.

He sees Ingo for the first time in years. A girl the missing champion of Sinnoh using a different name and calling Ingo her uncle.

See’s multiple images, his brother alive just not here and not now.

He asks Cynthia what happened, surely there are records if all the things there talking about are true she must know what happened, how could someone have summoned those legendries, have a hole in time and space and them have no record of it?

But she has no idea, lots of records were lost about the galaxy team, about the clans and wardens, they don’t have much and they don’t know what happened.

All they have is just the ghost plate showing them of the past.

#pokemon #pokemon legends arceus #pokemon arceus #uncle ingo #dad ingo #warden ingo #akari is dawn #pokemon akari #submas #subway boss emmet #cynthia #au #fic prompt #angst

[theright2quack]

#not a fan of what the referenced apps been doing lately #but ive been holding onto the joke for a while #pokemon #pokemon masters #pokemas #pla #pokemon legends arceus #submas #submas pla #submas au #submas angst #ingo #emmet #anabel #pokemon anabel #irida #looker #fic #tr2q #awip au

[kohakhearts]

request: palletshipping, hanahaki?

wc: 7 158 read on ao3 here

Gary is eleven years old the first time he throws up a flower petal, just south of Viridian City. At first, he thinks it is his mind playing tricks on him; maybe he hit his head when that Pokémon in the gym knocked him out. But it happens again the next morning, and he knows with a leaden sort of dread settling deep in his stomach it’s not.

Gingerly, he picks the flower up, considers it with an appropriate level of emotional distance: it’s thin and round, deeply yellow. When he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, it is small enough that it seems to disappear entirely. There’s still a slight tickle in his throat, but a deep breath in and out assures him there’s nothing wrong with his lungs.

Though it somewhat complicates his return home, he also knows he has a better chance of finding information tucked away on a dusty shelf at Oak Laboratory than out on the road. He tells his grandfather his occasional cough is nothing more than a passing cold he must have picked up on the road, a story which only really gains credibility when Ash comes by and the fits become somewhat more frequent. Even if a coincidence, Gary can’t quite help taking his frustrations about it out on Ash for the handful of days they both stay in Pallet Town.

Unfortunately, his search of his grandfather’s shelves leaves him with about as much information as he had to begin with, being basically none. Most of the books are about Pokémon, rather than human, diseases; and apparently, this particular malady hasn’t been observed in Pokémon.

When he leaves Pallet Town again, it gets better. So he redoubles his training and puts flowers out of his mind in order to focus on the League. Only every other night, when he wakes up with a headache and ringing ears, does his cough re-emerge. It seems obvious, then, that it’s related to what happened at the Viridian Gym—and he is not ready to face the implications of that yet. Not until he wins the League. Not until he proves that he is stronger than that armoured Pokémon made him feel.

But it is not meant to be; his fourth round opponent sends out a Golem against his Nidoking and he has been here before, only this time his grandfather and Ash are watching, and when his Pokémon falls he falls with him. A cough wracks his body, but the petal doesn’t dislodge itself from his throat until later, when Ash finds him outside.

“Gary!”

Gary turns around with a wry smile, which he can’t maintain for long. When he coughs, Ash’s frown only deepens.

“Gary?”

He waves a dismissive hand at him, while the other comes up to cover his mouth just in time to catch the flimsy orange petal before it passes between his lips. He wraps his hand around it and drops his fist down to his side before Ash can see anything.

“That trainer was lucky I was distracted by the girls cheering for me,” he says. His confidence is easy and comfortable, and even if Ash doesn’t look entirely convinced, it’s still enough to let him get away. Another day, another time, perhaps he would have stayed behind to see how Ash fared in his battle, but today he wants nothing more than to get away from here.

As they drive away, he crushes the petal between his fingers, then sends the wilting pieces back with the wind, away from him. The sooner he gets away from here, the sooner he’ll get over it. He’s sure of it.

*

The flower petals don’t completely go away, nor, however, do they grow worse. It quickly becomes something he adjusts to and deals with, because he has to. He doesn’t try to research it any more than he has, if only because he can’t bring himself to ask anyone else about it. Scouring the Internet on a Pokémon Centre computer, he learns it is a rare affliction commonly associated with repressed feelings of some kind. So long as he still wakes up with nightmares of that Pokémon, he supposes it won’t get any better, but those are lessening, too, as time goes on. It must be a matter of patience, then.

After that, he mostly tries to put it out of his mind. It bothers him only once every few days, if that. By the time he returns to Pallet Town again, he has found ways to make his coughing less obvious; sometimes, he can even swallow them down completely, though it results in an aching pain in his chest that he prefers to avoid whenever possible. Around Ash and his grandfather in particular, he leaves room for the ache, knowing it is better than their questions or, worse, their concerns.

He thinks he has it all figured out, until the night before his battle with Ash at the Silver Conference, he chokes up not just a petal, but an entire flower.

It is round and yellow, small, as if not yet fully grown. He is no botanist, has never been particularly interested in plants beyond their usefulness to him and his Pokémon. He holds it up to the light in his room, then far away, trying to glean…something from it, but there is nothing. Umbreon, who was sleeping near his feet before his coughs roused her, stretches up to sniff at it.

“I guess it’s kinda pretty,” he allows. “If you like that kind of thing.”

“Bre?”

“Forget about it. After we’re finished here, it’ll get better. It has to.”

She doesn’t look fully convinced, but dutifully lies back down. Her eyes follow him through the dark as he leans over to put the flower on the table beside his bed, then slips back into bed and turns on his side, so he can’t see it any longer.

In the morning, it has already wilted. He tells himself he pays it no mind as he grabs his things and leaves the room behind to prepare for their battle.

Facing against Ash, it is easy to forget about the things that are weighing down him. He is a passionate and spirited battler, always intent on keeping his competition on their toes; a long time ago, Gary thought Ash would never grow into the rival he was sure as children they would be for each other, but even from across the battlefield, the glint in his eyes is impossible to miss. Gary swallows hard against the flowers in his throat and throws himself into the battle, the way Ash has always wanted him to do.

His loss comes with a sense of serenity. Any doubt still lingering about his next steps flees the moment the referee declares Blastoise unable to battle. He has made it as far as he ever needed, or truly wanted, to. And on the other side is Ash—shocked, until the realization hits him. And then he is smiling so brightly Gary wonders how he ever let himself believe he wanted to take that away from him.

He throws up a second flower shortly after that, much like the first one. He doesn’t know why looking at it for too long makes his eyes begin to sting. He doesn’t know why it makes his chest hurt so badly to drop it on the ground and stamp beneath his foot, as if it were still somehow rooted to his lungs.

After he is sure that it isn’t going to happen again, he asks Ash to meet him by the lake, and returns the top half of their Poké Ball. It takes a heaviness from him, lessens the ache, even if just a bit. He holds Ash’s hand tightly in his and smiles and really means it when he says that, this time, he’ll be there to cheer him on.

There’s nothing between them, then. Ash opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then thinks better of it and clamps it shut. He just smiles instead. When they let go, Gary turns away first. He doesn’t let himself look back.

*

His next return to Pallet Town is short but necessary as he considers his next steps. Research is a different path, which will lead him other places and introduce him to new people. It will be like starting from square one all over again.

During this time, however, the flowers only grow bigger, and come more frequently. He spends a few days in bed with what he tells his grandfather must be the flu, just trying to breathe through the stabbing pain in his sides. By now, it has been just over two years since this began; and while the venom of his memories has lessened, the flowers only seem to have developed thorns of their own.

They’re worse at night, when everyone else is asleep. This has been true from the beginning, like loneliness is a prerequisite to their growth. A few days into his stay at the lab, it is so awful he thinks perhaps he really does have the flu, and yet no amount of heaving over the toilet produces anything more than specks of velvety yellow and orange. Most of the flowers are not in full bloom; many come apart somewhere in his throat, leaving his choking that much more pronounced.

It's like this that Tracey finds him, knocking hesitantly on the door and then poking his head inside.

“Hey, Gary?” he calls. “You all right in there?”

In answer, he throws up again.

“Okay, stupid question.” Tentative footsteps echo behind him, until Tracey is kneeling down next to him. He seems to debate for a moment whether or not it’s a good idea, but after a pregnant pause puts a hand on Gary’s shoulder and awkwardly begins to rub his back.

Gary doesn’t have the strength to push him away, nor the mental fortitude to try anyway and risk revealing the source of his illness. Unfortunately, it is impossible to remain in this position when coughs tear through him again and he retches. He spits a few broken petals into the toilet and at least leans back in defeat.

“Oh,” says Tracey, very quietly.

Gary attempts to clear his throat, to little success. Apparently clueing in, Tracey gets to his feet and tells him, “Let me grab you some water, all right? Stay there.”

As if Gary could have gone anywhere if he wanted to. He shoots a pitiful glare at the toilet, as if it is to blame for the flowers now swimming in it. When Tracey returns, he takes the water without a fight, just grateful to have something to relieve the scratchiness in his throat.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Tracey says after a moment, “but, um…how long has this been going on?”

Gary directs the glare at him, now; he puts his hands up in surrender.

“I know, sorry. It’s just—it doesn’t seem like your grandpa knows. Does he?”

Minutely, Gary shakes his head.

“Does anyone know?”

“No,” Gary rasps. “And you can’t tell anyone, either. It’s not a big deal, all right?”

Tracey’s gaze is kind, yet somehow also unrelenting. He says, “It is a big deal, Gary. I… It’s a rare disease, but I knew someone who had it. In the Orange Islands, we call it Hanahaki Disease. She, um, passed away from it. If you let it go untreated for too long…”

Gary tries not to focus on the part of that statement he leaves hanging between them. “There’s a treatment?”

Tracey winces. “Well…not exactly. How much do you know about it?”

Gary’s grip tightens on the glass. He tells himself it is only that tension making his hand tremble so much. “It’s psychological,” he finally manages. “It’s because of—feelings. If you don’t deal with that…”

A beat passes, and then Tracey kneels down in front of him again. Gingerly, he eases the glass free from Gary’s grasp, then sets it down on the floor between them.

“Sort of,” he says. “But you’re smarter than that, Gary. Pretty sure you can tell it’s not just in your head. It’s also here.” He gestures to his own chest, and then down to his midsection. “And here.”

As Gary watches, unbidden, he thinks of the flower he crushes under his foot, during the Silver Conference. He does not know why, despite the pain of leaning over the toilet for who-knows-how-long before Tracey came around, this is what makes tears spring into his eyes now.

“Then—what’s the treatment?”

“I guess you could say it’s honesty. But I think the first person you have to be honest to is yourself, right?” He hesitates a moment, and then says, “The feeling. What is it?”

Under the weight of his kind stare, Gary falters. Suddenly, his certain diminishes; if it were truly to do with the nightmares and the memories and the fear he’s carried since the Viridian Gym, he would not be here now. Would he?

That’s when it started. So what else happened that day?

He closes his eyes, thinking back. Ash was there. He picked him up off the floor. He looked him in the eyes, open and earnest. The memory of his hands around Gary is more poignant than that of the explosion that knocked him off his feet in the first place.

It got worse recently. He clenches his hands into fists, remembering how it had felt holding Ash’s. Passing him the other half of that Poké Ball. The bright light in his eyes. The ambitious joy in his smile.

He swallows down a sudden lump in his throat and opens his eyes again.

“I don’t know,” he lies.

“Gary…”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Gary says again, voice tight from the flower lodged somewhere within it. He thinks to try swallowing it down again, but there is no point, when Tracey already knows the truth anyway. He coughs a few times, until he is able to spit up the yellow abomination. He holds it out in his shaking hand, vision blurring somewhat.

“It’s pretty,” Tracey offers after a moment. “I don’t know if it’s true, but…I’ve heard that the flowers that grow inside the person afflicted with the disease represent the person they love. So I guess it must be someone fairly bright, right? Someone who…makes you happy?”

Gary snorts out a laugh. “Is this supposed to make me happy?”

Tracey puts a hand over the flower, which draws Gary’s eyes away from it and up to his face.

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt,” he says seriously. “The only way to make it stop hurting is by being honest about it.”

Gary just shakes his head. He can’t tell Tracey. He can barely bear to examine this realization himself.

Tracey sighs, but gives his hand a small squeeze and then reaches down and passes the water back to him anyway. “Well, at least make sure you take care of yourself. And if you ever need anything…”

There’s something terribly ironic about Ash’s friend offering him a helping hand, as if this whole thing isn’t clearly Ash’s fault in the first place. Tracey is nice enough, though, and Gary doubts he would try to involve Ash unless Gary actually asked him to. Still…it’s not worth the headache, when Gary knows he figured it out too late and now he’s missed his chance. If he said anything to Ash now…

Love isn’t supposed to hurt. Yeah, of course it’s not.

And Gary isn’t interesting in hurting Ash now, just to give himself some relief.

He drinks the rest of the water. Tracey waits for him.

Finally, he passes the glass back and says, “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Tracey accepts it with a smile. “Sounds good. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’m sure I’ll see you in the morning.” He pauses, but only briefly. “Why don’t you leave that here with the other ones? I’ll clean them up.”

Gary stares at him for a moment, and then slowly unfurls his hand from around the flower. He lets it fall into Tracey’s outstretched hand, then hurries up to his feet and heads back for his room. Pure physical exhaustion is the only thing that ensures he falls asleep once he is in bed; it does not stop him from tossing and turning, his dreams an all-consuming shadow around his best friend’s smile, his hands, his burning, passionate eyes.

*

He tries to leave before Ash can catch up to him, but Ash finds him anyway. He always does. And he sends him off with the half of the Poké Ball and a heaviness in his lungs, like it is no big deal.

Mostly, his first year and a half as a researcher are spent trying to cope with the flowers growing in his lungs. A part of him is convinced he can just live with it, that even if his life is in any sort of danger, that danger hangs suspended far in the future. There must be something he can do in between then, if he just…gets stronger, learns more, tries harder.

On Sayda Island, he mostly is able to ignore it. It comes and it goes, he finds, and when he is occupied with something else, it tends not to be so bad, at least until that thing becomes stressful and overwhelming, like the rampaging Aerodactyl.

Which is a perfect time for Tracey and his grandfather to come for a visit, too.

Tracey is cautious about broaching the subject, but it becomes unavoidable when, shortly before he and Samuel are about to leave, Gary bends over, heaving, and chokes out a few crumpled petals, and then finally a large, round flower.

Dora and Crystal and thankfully preoccupied with Aerodactyl and don’t notice anything. But Gary’s grandfather sees it, and if Gary thought it was bad enough that Tracey knew, well…now he kind of wishes he could sink into the ground and be done with it.

“Gary, what…?”

“It’s not that bad,” he hurries to reassure. “It’s been happening a lot less than before.” He pointedly doesn’t mention that the flower in front of his feet now is the biggest one he’s seen yet. Even Tracey would have no way of figuring that out.

“This is…” Samuel blinks. Shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gary looks away. He hates when his grandfather gets that look, like he has somehow done something wrong or bad for Gary, like this is his fault rather than Gary’s.

“Gary’s been monitoring his symptoms,” Tracey jumps in quickly. “Right now, they’re not so bad, right, Gary?”

“Oh, uh…” He clears his throat and turns back to face them both. “That’s right. I just…I’m not in a position to do anything about it, that’s all.”

Samuel’s lips thin. “I don’t know much about this particular malady, but I understand the solution is fairly straightforward.” Suddenly, his eyes flash, and dread flows from Gary’s head down to his feet. Leave it to his grandfather to have him all figured out in ten seconds flat.

“You can’t tell him,” he says, and feels like he’s begging but can’t quite help it. “I’m not coming back. Look—Dora and I were talking, and she has some friends working with Professor Rowan in the Sinnoh region. I spoke to him. After I’m finished here, he’s going to give me a position in his lab. I can’t go back now.”

“Really?” Tracey beams. “That’s awesome, Gary!”

“Now, Tracey, wait just a moment…” Samuel is frowning. Deeply. “Gary, I understand you don’t want to leave things in the air for so long, but surely…”

“I don’t even know where he is,” Gary points out. “We’ll see each other again someday, but for now, I’m doing my own thing, and he’s doing his. Isn’t that enough, Gramps?”

“Well…”

“It’s not usually this bad,” he tries again. “It’s just ‘cause everything was so—hectic. I’m keeping an eye on things. You believe me, don’t you?”

Finally, his grandfather’s composure crumbles. He heaves a short sigh, then offers a watery smile.

“I believe you,” he promises. “But I hope Tracey’s right about you monitoring your symptoms. If they ever worsen…”

“I know, I know.”

Samuel gives him a long, searching look, and then nods. “Very well. Then, I’m happy for you, Gary, truly. The Sinnoh region will have plenty of excellent opportunities just waiting for you. Don’t forget to call every now and then!”

Relief lessens the tension in Gary’s jaw enough so that he is able to must up a genuine smile. “I won’t. Thanks for visit, Gramps, Tracey. See ya soon. Have a safe trip back.”

They both bid him farewell, then turn begin making their way toward the boat. Only when Gary is just about to turn away himself does he hear Tracey yelp, “Ash?!”

He shakes his head, sighing. Leave it to his grandfather to spill his secrets for him. All he can do is hope Tracey will keep him from telling anyone even more implicated than Tracey is.

*

True to his word, Gary does make an effort to call often, and dutifully reports with at least a degree of honesty on his current symptoms. They remain about the same, though his stress levels rise somewhat significantly under Professor Rowan’s tutelage. He is a severe man, with big expectations; Gary intends to surpass them all, but this grows increasingly difficult when he is throwing up flowers every other day.

It is manageable, though. Gary returns to Pallet Town for a short while after he hears Ash has completely the Battle Frontier challenge. He isn’t sure what he expects to say to him, if anything at all; but after not seeing him in so long, he can’t bring himself to think about the disease or the crushed up flowers or anything, really, other than how nice it will be to see him again after all this time.

And it is nice. In the time they’ve spent apart, Ash has grown—physically, of course, but it’s more than that. There’s a new confidence in him, unlike the arrogant self-certainty he has after he toured the Orange Islands. This is more peaceful. Assurance, security—nothing more or less than belief in himself and his Pokémon.

It is the first time Gary’s seen him in person since he left, shortly after realizing the truth of his feelings. Aside from a postcard he sent when Ash was competing in the Ever Grande Conference, they haven’t exactly shared words with each other in just as long. But Gary watched his battles on TV; Gary asked his grandfather about his travels and his Pokémon and his friends; Gary thought about this moment, and what he would say when it came, so often it sometimes kept him awake at night at least as often as the flowers have.

But he doesn’t say anything. He just accepts Ash’s request to battle, and hopes that says enough for Ash to know he isn’t giving up on his dream, and neither should he. Neither Tracey nor his grandfather try to hold him back when he says he is leaving, but, then again, neither does Ash.

It’s just as well, too, because Gary coughs up some more flowers not too far from the lab. Orange and yellow petals drift down around his feet. He takes care to step around them when he finally moves on.

*

After he returns to Professor Rowan’s lab, his condition worsens.

He is not so stupid as to think Ash won’t be motivated to follow him to Sinnoh after their battle. At the same time, he knows it is still too soon for their paths to converge. When he is in the middle of a briefing with the professor and begins vomiting blood and vomit over the side of his chair, he is too overwhelmed by the pain of it to notice that his mentor has come around and kneeled down in front of him until he murmurs, “Zinnias.”

Gary coughs once, twice, then looks up at him, dazed. “What?”

“These flowers are called zinnias. But I suppose you must know that already.”

Slowly, Gary shakes his head. “I don’t know anything about flowers, other than that these ones’ve been a real pain.”

Rowan’s moustache twitches. “Yes, I would imagine they have been. I must admit I’ve never seen this phenomenon before in person, but it doesn’t appear to be new to you. What do you know about it?”

And it’s strange, in a way, how relaxing it is. It is as if they are discussing a theory of Pokémon evolution—he grills Gary for the facts, then acknowledges the gaps in his understanding and sends him off somewhere to fill them in for himself.

“It’s caused by unacknowledged feelings,” he says. “Untreated, it can kill a person.”

Rowan raises an eyebrow at that. “And yet you’re sitting here now.”

“It’s not that bad yet,” Gary mutters, though the excuse doesn’t feel right when the words are coated in a thin film of iron.

Rowan says nothing to that. Instead, he asks, “And what is the treatment?”

“Honesty. To the target of the feelings.”

“And what of the afflicted?”

“Well, I’m being honest now, if that’s what you mean.”

“In a sense, I suppose.” He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Then, if there were somewhere you could go or something you could do to ease the symptoms, it would be…?”

Gary closes his eyes and really thinks about this. He imagines that, by now, Ash is halfway across the ocean on his way here, but if their battle showed Gary anything, it’s that he’s still finding his path. And Gary isn’t so different, isn’t he?

He opens his eyes again. Says, “There isn’t anything. It’s just psychological management.”

But Rowan shakes his head. “No problem,” he says in that low, rumbling voice of his, “has only one potential solution. Perhaps you ought to think it over before your next assignment, and then we can re-evaluate.”

Gary chews on this for a moment. He doesn’t mistake any of it for a question, or even a helpful suggestion. This is simply how the professor operates.

At last, he nods. “All right. I’ll think it over. But I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Rowan looks down at the flowers around Gary’s feet. His eyes are decidedly dark.

“Come back if it worsens,” he says. “There are things that can be done if the cure is truly out of reach.”

In the moment, Gary doesn’t ask about it, but when his lungs start to feel heavy every waking moment of every day, after his next run-in with Ash during his assignment with the Shieldon, he begins to consider what exactly Professor Rowan meant.

The answer disturbs him more than he would like to admit:

“There are surgical procedures,” he explains gruffly. “In essence, they will remove the source of the growth from your organs. But it’s highly invasive, and not often done. The mortality rate is too high for most to justify it.”

“But some people survive it?”

“Certainly. Those who do go on to be quite lonely, however.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply, they lose the ability to love. Much as the heart reacts to the repression of love by growing flowers, it similarly reacts to the unnatural removal of them by altering its function. In a way, it’s not so different from some phenomena observed in Pokémon evolution.”

Gary’s skin feels very cold, suddenly. He rubs absently at his arms. “And that’s the only alternative to the cure?”

“There are plenty of supposed natural remedies, though no scientific evidence to back them up. Some have attempted seances with ghost and psychic Pokémon, while others have supposedly attempted communicating with Legendaries in hopes of establishing a cure. Here in Sinnoh, Mesprit is a rather popular choice for such woes, so far as I understand it.”

Gary imagines himself begging to a Lake Guardian to rid him of his disease, then promptly dismisses the thought with a short, despairing laugh.

“I think I’d rather try my luck with the surgery,” he mutters.

Professor Rowan is silent for a moment, and then he clears his throat. “Forgive me for saying so, but I do wonder if there’s more to your decision to not simply confront the object of your affections than you believe there is. I will not presume to understand your situation, Gary. But I doubt whatever ramification you’re fearing is enough to risk your life over.”

When Gary says nothing, he just sighs. “In any case, there have been some reports about habitat disruptions in the caves of Mt. Cornet I was hoping you might be able to look into…”

That is the end of the conversation, but it stays with Gary for a long time, especially as his body begins fighting against him more and more. When he sees the Lake Guardians at Lake Valor, helpless to save them, he doesn’t think about the flowers. He doesn’t think about whether or not they could help. He sees Ash at the end of it all, one of the heroes standing in the way of Team Galactic, and all he can do is promise to return the Adamant and Lustrous Orbs back to Celestic Town.

Then, finally, he thinks of what Professor Rowan said.

Then, finally, he thinks he understands it.

(They stop no fewer than five times on the way to Celestic Town so Gary can throw up. The taste of blood has begun to mingle with something salty, but Professor Rowan tactfully says nothing of it when he has to wipe his eyes clean as well as his mouth.)

*

For a long while, Gary has time to simply think about it, if only because his condition gets so bad he is confined to bedrest for the unforeseeable future. He eventually relents to Professor Rowan’s insistences and calls his grandfather and Tracey, whose faces are sorrowful but advice is exactly what he expects it to be: Just talk to him, Gary.

His grandfather informs him that Ash will soon being competing in the Sinnoh League. He already was in contact, asking to have some of his old Pokémon transferred to him. And this time, Gary knows—he has no choice, but he can wait a few more days. He can.

The flowers he throws up now are dry, brittle things, past their lifespan. The blood that coats them when he coughs them out changes their colour into something dull and grey, not at all bright or happy, like Ash is. It feels worse, somehow; as if he has waited so long out of some noble sense of self-sacrifice and all he’s done is kill them both.

He musters up the strength to call Ash shortly before his battle against that trainer with the Darkrai that the announcers are raving about on TV. He has to leave a message with Nurse Joy, but he tells himself he didn’t expect anything different. And then he just has to hope that Ash receives it, and will come.

Though it is difficult to get up and walk around, Gary does manage it once in a while, certain that exercise will probably help him more than hinder him even if it makes his breathing short and fast and painful. Lake Verity is not too terribly far, and he finds that the way the breeze rolls off the water is refreshing; it helps him breathe.

It’s a better day than he’s had in a while that he comes out to the lake to wait for him. He watched the match on TV the other day, and still finds himself amazed at the way Ash smiled at the end of it, like he hadn’t been so unfairly outmatched, like he was just happy to have gotten the experience of battling such a strong Pokémon, rather than lost in the semifinals of his fourth Pokémon League. After all this time, so many years—and failures—he is still smiling just like he was that day at the Silver Conference. The day Gary walked away from him, not knowing what it would cost.

He doesn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him, because he is bent over coughing when Ash arrives. The bloodied petals fall into his cupped hands. When he glances back to see Ash, they both stop, eyes wide.

Gary curls his hands into a fist, obscuring the petals from view, while Ash takes in two deep, stuttering breaths, then quickens his pace to get to Gary.

“Gary!” He stands above him, and he’s sort of…hovering. Like he doesn’t know what to do. “It’s—it’s been a while, huh? Are you…?”

In spite of it all, Gary cracks a smile at that. He scoots over a bit, and uses his free hand to pat the grass beside him.

“I’m all right,” he says. “Saw your battles.”

Lowering himself down with a wary sideways glance, Ash asks, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Pretty good. I was impressed.”

Immediately, he relaxes. Smiles. “Well, thanks! I’m glad you think so. We trained real hard. It wasn’t easy!”

“Easy’s not in your vocabulary, Ashy.” Gary laughs a bit, then stops, straightening up, as the act of it sends pain lacing up his side.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s…it’s nothing.” He looks away, toward the water. “So, what’s next, then?”

Ash is quiet for a long moment. In the silence, Pikachu jumps down from his shoulder and inches closer to Gary. He doesn’t have the heart to push him away.

Finally, Ash sighs. “I don’t know yet. Guess I should be askin’ you that. I never woulda travelled here if not for you.”

Gary smiles, faintly. His eyes trace out the reflections of the sun against the lake’s tranquil surface. “I know,” he says. “Pretty cool that ya got to battle against Paul’s Electivire, too.”

Pikachu’s nose brushes against Gary’s fisted hand. Not expecting it, his fingers twitch as he pulls his hand away. The petals slips between them, settling down on the grass. Pikachu cautiously steps closer and sniffs at them, then sits back and looks at Gary with wide, sad eyes.

“Pika…”

“Something’s funny,” Ash declares. “Even Pikachu’s worried about you. Gary, what’s going on? You don’t look so good. Have you been eating? Sleeping?”

Gary pats Pikachu’s head. “You’re too nosy for your own good,” he mutters. “Just like your trainer, y’know that?”

“Pi?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs. “Ash, look, I… It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? That’s all.”

“That’s not all.” Suddenly, Ash’s hands are wrapping around his wrists, pulling them toward him so face Gary’s whole body has no choice but to follow. His eyes find Ash’s and blink dumbly at him as he says, furiously, “You’re hiding something, just like you were before! What were you holding, anyway, and why are you— Why are you looking at me like that?!”

Gary opens his mouth to respond, but the words are lost as he begins to cough. And cough. And cough.

“Gary?”

He heaves until at least, the familiar sensation of flower petals tickles at the roof of his mouth. When it passes between his lips, it is whole, not wilted. A yellow zinnia, perfectly rounded, not a petal out of place.

Ash drops one of his hands to pick it up. The only indication of a problem is the streaks of blood, but he is apparently unfazed by that. His eyebrows are furrowed when he looks back up at Gary.

“Really…bad timing,” Gary manages between puffs of overexerted breaths. “It’s—”

“Hanahaki,” Ash says. “Tracey told us about it, once, a long time ago. I didn’t think I believed him.”

Gary stares at him for a moment. Ash looks back down at the flower.

“But I guess it must be real, then. Gary, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Gary recoils. Ash’s head snaps back up, eyes widening. It is only their joined hands and Gary’s frail condition that prevents him from pulling away completely.

“Let me help you,” Ash says quickly. “I—I don’t know much about it, but I get the idea. Who is it? If you need to track ‘em down, then I can help! Or—or if you don’t know how to talk to them, then I—”

He cuts off when Pikachu comes around and jumps on his lap again. If he had the wherewithal to do so, Gary would have laughed at the look the little mouse levels his trainer with.

“What?” Ash bristles. “You think you know, Pikachu? You’re kidding me.”

“Pi-pi-chu!” Pikachu points at Gary, then at the flower. And then finally at Ash. “Pikapi!”

Gary has no idea what he’s saying, but clearly Ash does. He stares at Pikachu, dumbfounded, and then looks up at Gary again. He makes a clear effort to void his face of emotion.

“You can tell me,” he says, quietly. “I won’t judge you.”

“I…” Even still, even knowing the words—it’s so hard to just be honest. Gary’s not like Ash, not even close, and they both knows it.

But Ash feels it when his hand begins to tremble. He holds on tighter and leans a little closer and says, “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve definitely done scarier things than this before. Professor Oak was tellin’ me one time—something about an Aerodactyl?”

Gary lets out a huff of air, a sad imitation of a laugh. “Of course he never saves the best stories for me to tell, does he?”

Ash smiles a bit. “He’s just proud of ya, that’s all. But still—that’s way scarier than just tellin’ someone how you feel, right?”

It’s not. It’s really, really not.

“You asked me to come here because of this, right?”

Wordlessly, Gary nods.

“It reminds me of the day you gave me back that Poké Ball,” Ash says. “And I think maybe—you were kinda nervous then, too. But the Poké Ball helped me understand your feelings, so maybe…this flower…”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Gary rasps. “Except that—except that it’s colourful. Bright. Like the person it represents.”

“Someone bright and colourful. All right. Anything else?”

He swallows back an acidic taste. Clutches Ash’s hand more tightly.

“That person was the first bright thing I saw after the worst moments of my life, so—so I guess you could say they flowers are like that because this person…makes me happy.” He makes a face at that, pointedly not looking at Ash as he says it. “I don’t know what they really mean. I just know that—in all the time we spent apart, I don’t think I even really wanted to get rid of them, because they reminded me of you.”

All at once, the pain in his sides changes into something—different. More of an ache than a sharpness. A scar rather than a wound. His free hand comes up to touch around his throat, gingerly, just waiting for something to happen, but—nothing does.

He breathes in, deeply, and out, and looks at Ash.

And it’s the same look he normally reserves for battles. He saw it on the TV, watching the Lily of the Valley Conference just days ago. It saw it in Pallet Town, outside his grandfather’s lab. He saw it at the Silver Conference.

But there’s no battle here. It’s just them, and Pikachu, who’s looking…rather smug, so far as Gary can tell. And then he doesn’t have any more time to think about it, because Ash is pulling him forward into a bone-crushing hug. Pikachu yelps, ducking away just in time to avoid be squished, but Gary is not so lucky.

Then again, as he lets himself melt into it and his eyes begin to well with tears, he’s pretty sure there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“You shoulda said something,” Ash mutters. “Y’know, I coulda been here way sooner than this. I wish I had been.”

Gary takes a moment to respond, only once he is sure his voice is going to cooperate. And then he says, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Ash pulls away, just enough so that he can look at Gary’s face. He frowns.

“You never held me back. All you ever did was push me forward.”

“This is different, though.”

“Nah, it’s not. Wherever either of us ends up, I know you’re gonna be in my corner. For a while…for a while, I wasn’t sure. But I’m sure now, and I’ll always do the same for you. C’mon, Gary. You’re my best friend. What ever made you think I couldn’t love you back?”

Gary’s breath hitches. With some effort, he manages to pull away from Ash, who just grins at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gary sees Ash scoop up the flower, and then get up to his feet.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“It’s a little easier to breathe,” Gary admits. “But I think—it’ll take some time. It’s been like this for…a while.”

“A while,” Ash echoes. “Months?”

Gary cringes away from him. He casts his gaze desperately back out toward the lake. “Well…a little longer than that, yeah.”

“A little…” Ash steps closer and leans down in front of him, so he has no choice but to meet his eyes even if only briefly. “How long, Gary? C’mon, just tell me! Isn’t the hard part over?”

“I’m not telling you that. Shut up.”

“Please?”

“No. You’re so annoying. Let’s just go back to the professor’s lab.”

Ash pouts, clearly wanting to push the topic, but then his sympathy for Gary’s situation clearly wins out and he sighs, extending a hand down to him. “Okay, fine. Let’s go. Sure you can walk?”

Gary takes his hand, even as he glares up at him. “I’m sure.”

Even once they are both on their feet, Ash doesn’t let go of his hand. Gary doesn’t ask him to, although his face feels rather hot at the continued contact. It’s only once they start walking that he finally relaxes enough to realize, “I never said the word love.”

Ash blinks. “What?”

“You said you love me back. But I never said I love you.” Gary glances at him, then quickly averts his gaze again. He clears his throat, awkwardly. “So how’d you know?”

“You…didn’t? Huh… I dunno. I guess I just kinda always knew. I never really had to think about it.”

Gary doesn’t know what he was expecting, honestly. He just sighs and wraps his hand around Ash’s a little more tightly. In his peripherals, he sees Ash’s smile widen in response. Neither of them says anything. Eventually, there will be more Gary has to be honest about, but for now…he supposes Ash is right.

There’s no need to speak what both of them already know.

#*reqs #*fic #mine #palletshipping #shigesato #pokemon #this inspired me SO much ive never written hanahaki before but i had a blast thank you #this is so long bianca says i was lost in the gary angst sauce and she may have had a point

[volos-togepi]

Intentions - Volo x reader

“heyyyy i loved ur last fic!! do you think you’d be willing to write another? i thought this sounded like a fun idea: a volo x reader fic where the reader is just as secretly unhinged and resentful as him and have the same goal. they think they’re manipulating each other into what they want, but then they realize that they’re both after the same thing and escalate their friendship into something more? 🤭 thanksss <3” - anon

i FINALLY got this one finished!!! it only took me a month and a half :')

i hope you enjoy! <3 (also thank youuuuuu!!!!! <333)

y/n - your name 2k+ words (2,076) friends ⟶ lovers

Plates.

Plates are what you’re after.

You’ve been searching and searching, seeking them out to meet with a higher being: Arceus. You’ve devoted so much of your time and efforts into studying the Almighty Sinnoh. Laying low is so hard to do. But, despite how much you want to express your true feelings toward this land you call ‘home’, it’s better you didn’t.

You’ve been watching Volo and the new recruit from afar; watching them both gather the plates you’ve been longing to find. You sigh in frustration. 

They were supposed to be yours.

Once you return to the village, you run into Volo. It seems he’s stocking up on wares to ‘sell’. You already knew he had the lowest numbers in the Ginkgo Guild. It’s not that hard to overhear, especially where you like to sit on Kamado’s balcony to do your work. 

“Seems like someone’s heading back out.”

He turns to you with a rather shocked expression. “Y/n! You startled me.” Quickly gathering himself, he calms down and and smiles. “How did you know I’m heading back out?”

“Well,” you begin, tilting your head. “firstly, you’re stocking up on more wares. Perhaps to sell, or… to use for yourself.” 

You see his cheeks flush slightly. “How do yo—”

“Second, your trousers are already splattered with fresh mud, most likely from the Mirelands. Nowhere else has dirt so… red.” You pause. “What were you going to say? I’m sorry for interrupting.”

He purses his lips. You can tell he’s trying to read you. “Nothing… we’ll pretend it didn’t come up.”

“Mhmm…” 

Silence takes over. It’s not like either of you to stay this way for very long, as you both like to carry on lengthy conversations on the interesting facts of the region. Volo finishes stocking his bag and throws it back on, grunting as the weight of it almost pulls him to the ground. “Well, I’m off to… sell.”

“Before you go—”

His eyes widen, eager to hear what you have to say. Any information to him is important, and you know that oh so well.

“Would you mind telling me why you were the one chosen to help the new Survey Corps recruit over me?” 

He’s taken aback by your question, almost offended that you had asked. “You know how well versed I am in these studies, y/n. You wouldn’t understa—”

“I wouldn’t understand?” Your eyes grow angry. “Do you know how long I’ve been studying each and every ruin and artifact I’ve found in the Hisui region? How much time and effort I’ve put in to piecing together this stupid binder for Cyllene, just so I can spend more time out in the open air? I wouldn’t understand?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“What I don’t understand is why they let an outsider take the lead on this one.”

You’ve offended him.

Oh, how you’ve offended him.

“Excuse me?!” he shouts. 

You glare at him, lowering your voice. “You heard me, Volo.”

—————

It’s been a few weeks since your argument. Volo’s been trying to apologize since the day after is happened, but you don’t want to hear it. 

“Y/n, please! Do you think I want to help Akari on my own?”

“Who?”

“The new recruit…”

You shrug.  “I never bothered to learn her name.”

Volo lets out a hearty laugh. You’ve never seen him so genuine; so true, even in your past conversations. “That was good.” he responds. “I wish I could say the same.”

You both joke around for a while. It’s nice to have a friend back on your side. 

“Hey…” You break the silence, a more serious tone taking over. “What if I… help you? You know, with finding plates?”

A coy smile spreads across Volo’s face. “I love that idea.”

—————

“For safe keeping. You both travel quite a bit, and I would hate for either of you to lose them.”

Weeks have passed. You’d convinced Volo and ‘whatever their name is’ to let you keep the plates in your possession. Volo was a bit apprehensive at first, but the girl seemed to trust you. “I think it’s a good idea, Volo. Y/n does have a point: we do travel a lot.”

“Fine.”

More days pass. You have all but one. You cannot believe how easy it was to just… take them. You smile as you sit on the bank side of Lake verity, taking in the fresh air around you. You feel a hand touch your shoulder. Startled, you look up to see Volo.

“What are you doing here, y/n?” He sits down next to you, setting his bag to the side.

You shrug. “I needed some air, and Lake Verity is so pretty this time of year.”

He nodded in agreement. “And the plates? Are they safe?”

“Of course! Do you think I’d let them out of my sight?”

He smiles, looking to the water glistening in the sunlight. “Good.”

You sigh. “Hey, this may sound strange, but…” You take a deep breath. “Do you ever feel that… the girl is… getting in the way.”

His eyes light up, and even though he’s not looking at you, you can tell he’s interested in what you have to say. 

“I mean, she wouldn’t even know where to look if it weren’t for you. And, if I’m being honest, you know more about these plates than she does.”

“She’s gotta get home somehow.”

You shrug. “All I’m saying is that you deserve this more than her. We deserve this more than her.”

You watch as Volo’s lips curl into this small, almost unnoticeable smile. “You know,” he says, looking out at the water, “I was wondering when you’d come around.” He turns to you, the smile on his face growing bigger. “I mean, it was only a matter of time.”

“I’m not quite sure what you’re getting at.” you reply. “I was only trying to ma— wait… you’re not doing this for the sake of helping are you?”

He laughs.

Oh how he laughs.

It’s a beautiful sound; a melody. Tears start to roll down his cheeks from the laughter. “Oh, y/n!” he chokes out. “I never have been!”

You start to giggle. 

“I was only trying to get you on my side.” he continues. “I figured it would be—”

“Volo,” You interrupt. “Why do you think I asked to keep the plates?”

He stares at you, unsure of what to say. His eyes are wide, and he seems surprised that you, you, would be trying to sabotage not only the girl, but the entire Survey Corp? “Y/n…” His voice is soft; hushed. “I never thought that you—”

“That I’d want to turn my back on the people of Jubilife? Because I’m not.”

He’s silent.

“I’ve always had this intention. It just took me years of acquiring the knowledge and the connections to feel comfortable enough to go for it…” You pause, watching a Magikarp leap out of the water. “Besides… the girl makes it easier.”

Volo gently slides his hand over yours. You don’t think anything of it. 

You’re friends.

“Meet me in the Highlands tonight.” he says. “There’s something I need to say.”

—————

The Coronet Highlands were so pretty at night. You lay on your back in the patch of flowers at Fabled Spring, looking at the billions of stars just above you in the sky. Volo arrives not too long after you, setting his bag against one of the trees. For once, he’s not in his uniform, wearing a dark green kimono and matching trousers. “I thought I’d dress little casual this evening.” He sits down next to you, pulling something out of his pocket to hand to you. “I thought you may like this.”

You sit up and carefully take what he’s holding. “A comet shard!” you squeak. “How did you—”

“I found it in the Mirelands; the day you caught me with mud-stained pants.” He bit his lip, looking to the ground. “The day of our little spat.” 

You’re silent.

“I’d been wanting to give it to you for so long, and…” He looks at you, eyes filled with starlight. “I just didn’t know how.”

“Volo, I…” You exhale. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head. “No need to thank me, y/n.”

You both lay there for a while, listening to the nature around you. It’s so peaceful; serene, the fireflies lighting up the spring.

“I wish every night were like this.” 

Volo squeezes your hand a little tighter. You watch as his lips curl into the smallest, yet sweetest smile. It makes your heart flutter. 

Had you always felt these things?

“Feeling content with sharing the experience of a serene, summer night.” he continues. “It’s easy with you.”

“I agree.” you reply in an almost whisper. “It’s… it’s nice.”

You can feel his eyes on you, even when you’re focused on the stars above. “So what did you want to talk about?” you ask, trying to break whatever tension you were both feeling.

“Never mind that.” 

You look to him once more. “Volo, I—”

“I just want to share this moment with you.”

He rolls over on his side to face you, his hand caressing your cheek. “Do you know just how pretty you are?”

Your abdomen feels like it’s going to explode. You can’t help but to blush as Volo says these things to you. You hope he doesn’t notice, but…

“Do you like it when I say these things?” He scoots closer, his chest barely touching your arm. “Hmm?”

You look at him, and it’s hard to keep yourself contained.

“I did, actually, want to talk with you about something tonight.” he whispers. “If you’ll allow me to.”

You nod. He takes a deep breath, his hand still placed on your cheek. “Y/n, I— if we’re to use the plates for ourselves, and forge this new world, would you… would you mind if we did it together?” He gulps. “Because I don’t want to do this without you.”

“Volo…”

He pulls you in close. 

So, so close.

“I can’t do this without you, y/n.”

You wrap your arms around him tightly, tangling your limbs together in the patch of flowers you lie on. Volo nuzzles his face into your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, his fingers tracing the seams of your Survey Corps uniform. You feel your breath hitch. Volo feels it too, looking up at you when he does. “Are you alright?”

You nod quickly. Maybe too quickly. 

“Y/n, promise you’re not lying to me.”

“I promise.” you breathe. 

His fingers continue to trace your uniform, every seam; every outline; every wrinkle in the fabric. “Y/n?” 

“Hmm?” You watch as his fingers slowly trace their way up to your neckline. 

“You do know I meant it when I said you were pretty, right?” His tone has completely shifted. He smirks lightly as he looks at you, lust in his eyes. “Because you are.” Untangling himself from your grasp, he sits up, pulling you up with him. “My pretty y/n.”

You were feeling those things again.

And he knows it.

He leans in as close as he can, noses almost touching. “Promise you won’t leave me behind.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grabs your waist tightly and presses his lips to yours, pulling you into his lap as he does. He’s so passionate, yet so soft; his lips warm against yours in the cool, summer night. He pulls away to look at you, his eyes meeting your gaze as your lips part. You both smile at one another, and Volo is quick to kiss you once more.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long.” he says, holding your hands in his.

“Then why didn't you?”

“Because I needed to know where your intentions were.”

You giggle softly at his remark. “Obviously, I made the right choice.”

“That you did.” He pushes a stand of hair out of your face. “Not completely off topic, but how many plates do we have so far?”

“Seventeen.” you respond. “Why?”

He starts to get up, you sliding off his lap into the flowers. Volo extends his hand to you to help you up, not letting go once you’re standing. He looks to the mountain just up above, and a mischievous grin quickly forms on his face. He turns back to you, squeezing your hand tightly.

“Let’s go.”

#volo #volo imagine #volo fanfiction #volo legends arceus #volo pokemon #pokemon volo #pla volo #pokemon wielder volo #pokemon legends arceus #volo x reader #volo x reader fanfiction #volo x reader fanfic #volo x reader fic #volo x reader imagine #volo x reader fluff #volo x reader angst #x reader friends to lovers #legends arceus #pokemon x reader #pokemon legends volo #pokemon legends arceus x reader #pla x reader

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

Ingo and Emmet are perfectly in sync. They have to be, living as conjoined twins. The Subway Masters of Nimbasa City, the two are happy with their friends and family and trains. Of course, the universe contains chaos and random chance that can affect even the closest of people. The two find themselves in situations that neither would have ever expected, and it will test them both. Through it all, one thing is certain. Family, both blood related and chosen, will never let you be alone. And, no matter the trials, a two-car train will always continue onwards.

Happy 2 years to PLA and 1 year since I began posting this fic! I come with a PLA-focused update for you all :)

Thank you for your support, creations, and time in the PLA and submas fandoms, love you all!!!

No warnings for this chapter!

Disclaimer linked in first reblog!

#submas #submas conjoined au #pla era #submas angst #JUST A TEENY LITTLE BIT #ingo #pokemon legends arceus #y'know what just this once i'm gonna allow myself to post in that tag #because it's PLA day #to those not in the know; hi lol enjoy my fic if you want #chapter took AGES to write both due to business exhaustion and having to write ALL the wardens #whoops

[blaiddraws]

Halloween fic update! ingo has a Bad Time

#pokemon #submas #pla era #submas angst #sneasler #ingo #volo shows up briefly #fic #fanfic #hindsight #insight #warden ingo

[mismefancy]

I did in fact make fanart of it, as promised.

This is fanart for this wonderful fic called "It's nothing personal, it's just business" by @waywardstation. [Read it. It's too good. :') ]

I hope you enjoy this little gift of mine.

Sibling angst is one thing. Child and parent angst is a whole other level of pain. It is my weakness. :'D

#I cried while reading the fic lol #Ingo and Akari used parental angst #*sniff* It was super effective #pokemon legends arceus #submas #ingo #warden ingo #akari #pokemon akari #pokemon fanart #papa ingo #again I came to the pla fandom for train twins angst #I was not prepared for the Akari and Ingo angst that followed :') #my art

[dipplinduo]

Sweet & Sour Dipplins: Chapter 18 is outtttttt

It's technically the length of a double chapter because I had a little fun with this one, so get cozy. >:)

#AHAHAHHAHA #its beauty #its grace #it'll destroy your precious smiling face #<3333 #y'all got comfy for too long #and angst ~ inspires me ~ you see #my fics #dipplinshipping #kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran pokemon #kieran x juliana #juliana pokemon #juliana x kieran #something about this post is so funny yet again but I don't wanna spoil by drawing attention to it #ENJOYYYY LOL #I am gonna go throw some angst in BYFILWM now #and then DIOH #LMAO

[artsy0wl]

My Brother Can’t be Hurt Again (a RaihanxPiers fic)

Experimenting with RaihanxPiers a bit. Wanted to do a fic where Marnie gives her two cents while defending her brother. I have a plan to do something similar with Hop in a RaihanxLeon fic.

Warning: referenced cheating, referenced stalking, implied abuse, mild language

Arms wrapped around Piers as he entered the living room. The scent of sand and cinnamon blended with sweat and cedar wood as Piers huffed. He wasn’t big on Bewear hugs. Especially from a Flygon sized gym leader. But Piers could manage knowing it was one of Raihan’s ways to display affection.

Now just wasn’t the time for one. With the day sporting three challenges, a concert, and Obstagoon freaking out as a storm rolled in, he needed a shower.

“Let me go.” Piers sighed. “I smell like a wet Yamper.”

“I’d say more like a wet Linoone.”

“Whatever the case, I need to freshen up. Unless you want to sleep with Obtsagoon.”

Sarcastically pouting, Raihan released Piers. “Oh, alright.” Grabbing Piers’ wrist, Raihan quickly pulled him in for a kiss. “Enjoy.”

Piers rolled his eyes, groaning. He went for the restroom. Pulling the ties out of his hair, Piers’ hair draping down like a veil was the last thing Raihan saw before the door closed. The sound of the shower running was soothing.

Leaning against the wall, Raihan hummed along to Piers’ singing. Looking at the kitchen, he wondered if he should help clean up. Not that there was much to clean up, save a few dishes.

“You better not hurt him.”

Jumping, Raihan turned to find Marnie a few feet across from him. He wasn't sure how long she had been there, but she was there all the same. Marnie was sneaky, like her brother, just shorter and younger than Piers.

However, that was not what Raihan’s focus fell on. Rather, the comment she made. A confusing, unprompted comment.

“What?” Raihan sighed, tilting his head.

“You better not hurt my brother.” She repeated.

“What a puzzling little thought.” Raihan mused, trying to keep the mood light. “I would never.”

Marnie entered the kitchen, her glare locked onto Raihan. Sitting at the table, she waited for Raihan to join her. Curious, Raihan followed, sitting across from Marnie.

“My brother might be reserved when it comes to relationships, but I won’t.” Marnie stated, folding her arms on the table. “Do you know what it’s like to see your brother so heartbroken because of an ex? I do.”

It was sweet how Marnie was looking out for Piers. He had grown accustom to Piers looking out for Marnie, but until today, he couldn’t say he saw the same from Marnie that often. If at all.

It was curious too. Out of all the things for her to get vocal about, Piers’ dating life was not what Raihan expect Marnie to get hook on first. Him getting hurt was the first thing Raihan thought of. Or perhaps when Piers was helping out with the Dynamaxing shenanigans caused by Sordward and Shielbert. But if she was going to be concerned with her brother dating him, Raihan could address it.

“Why do you think I’ll hurt him?” Raihan leaned forward resting his arms on the table. “I’m glad that you are watching out for Piers, but we’ve been together for a while and you haven’t mentioned anything until now. So why bring this up now?”

He wanted to respect Marnie’s concerns. Her concerns were valid, even if he was just finding out about them now. However, that didn’t mean Raihan didn’t have questions. That he didn’t know why she was mentioning this now.

“His first and only other boyfriend cheated on him with some minor league gym leader.” Marnie winced, face twitching with disgust. “His last girlfriend was a stalker and while things would end amicably, his first girlfriend died in a car crash a few months later.” Speechless, Raihan’s eyes widened as Marnie continued. “He tried to hide it from me, but I always knew.”

As Raihan processed everything Marnie told him, a fiery spark in her grew. Once neutral concern turned to anger and concern. Blue eyes sharpened and froze, focused on her objective.

“You may be a talented gym leader, who’s fun and determined, but can you really expect me to believe that you won’t hurt him like they did? Or that I would let you be the reason he cries himself to sleep?”

A reasonable question. Based on what she told Raihan, he had no reason to doubt her skepticism. Proving it wrong was key if they were to continue cohabitating. For their sake and especially Piers’.

“What can I do to show you that I’m not like them?”

Marnie’s expression softened, considering the notion. “Love him. Don’t be afraid to show him affection while respecting his space. Listen to him. He’s a simple guy with simple needs. However,” her glare sharpened, “he’s been fighting for so long now that he forgot he can let go.” Blue eyes sharpened. “If you want to prove yourself, let him feel secure. Let him feel like he doesn’t always have to be strong. That he can be vulnerable around you without sacrificing his dignity.”

Marnie’s head tilted as she heard the shower shut off. He’d be in there for a few more minutes. With hair like his, it needed time to dry.

”I just want Piers to be happy.” Marnie sighed. “He doesn’t deserve all of the heartbreak. Or the nights when he cries himself to sleep.”

Hands covered Marnie’s eyes as she let out a pleading sigh and jittery shoulders. It was hard to see her this vulnerable, all the while trying to hold it together for Piers. Despite not having siblings of his own, Raihan understood why she would be so concerned.

”You’re a very good sister.” Raihan commended, lightly tapping her shoulder as he heard motion. “It must be difficult, and I doubt he wants you to worry so much about him.”

Marnie smirked, wiping her eyes. “Of course he does, but these Spikemuth siblings gotta have each other’s back. Whether he likes it or not, I’m gonna protect him.”

Raihan chuckled. “And you’re doing a great job.”

“Gossiping, are we?”

Piers was standing in the doorway, hair draped over his shoulder in a twirled braid. Marnie smirked, getting out of her seat and exiting the kitchen. She flashed Raihan a glare then smiled at Piers as she went to her room. Watching Marnie, Piers wondered what she was scheming.

Using his distracted state to his advantage, Raihan stood up with a smirk. Walking over to him, wrapping an arm around Piers’ shoulders.

“We were bonding over our love for a certain Obstagoon.” Raihan kissed Piers’ forehead.

Piers groaned rolling his eyes. “At least she didn’t bite you. Or call Team Yell.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The last person I dated ran out after she and Liz threatened to release a hoard of angry Stunky on her.” He kissed Raihan, who was concerned, but impressed. “I think she likes you.”

~

Treating Piers to breakfast at his favorite diner was supposed to be a good time. Raihan was going to take Marnie’s request to heart. He was going to show Piers that he could make him feel safe.

But one trip to the restroom seemed to stop that. Raihan was only gone for a few minutes and knew Piers would be fine. Or so he thought.

Instead, Raihan found Piers’s arm being held by some guy, visibly disturbed. The man in front of him had blond hair, brown eyes, and stood about five centimeters taller than Piers. The smirk on his faced wreaked of annoyance with intent that was not going the way he wanted it to.

“Let me go!” Piers growled.

“I came out all this way to see you,” his grip tightened, “the least you can do is show me some respect and talk to me.”

“You don’t deserve my respect. Not after you cheated on me.”

“You’re still hung up on that? Piers. Babe. That was the old me. I was young and stupid. I’ve learned my lesson and want to start over.”

“Not. Interested.” Piers yanked his arm away from the man. “Besides, I’m seeing someone else.”

“I know. That dumbass gym leader from Hammerlocke. Not that I care.” He shoved Piers against the wall, now seeming to bring attention to himself and Piers as he pinned Piers there. “Only one person can have you. Me. And I ain’t about to let some cocky son of a bitch steal you.”

The man held Pier’s chin as he widely grinned. Eyes flickered as the man leaned closer to Piers. Panic set in faster than a Rapidash as Piers realized what was going on.

“Let me go, you piece of shite.” Piers kneed the man in the stomach, causing him to recoil long enough for him to free his arm. “We. Are. Over. And I am not stooping to your level because you think you own me. Just leave me alone!”

“Why you little…”

A hand raised aggressively as the man retaliated. But before the man could hit Piers, a fist landed squarely on his face, colliding with his cheekbone. Raihan stood between them now, shielding Piers from whatever the man’s next move could be.

“Back off.” Raihan growled.

The man stood up, enraged, ready to fight Raihan. The dragon tamer, meanwhile, stood over him with an equally aggressive smirk. As he took a step forward, Raihan felt a tug on his sleeve. Looking back, Oiers shook his head.

“Just take me home.”

Piers’ glare turned, bitterly looking at the door. And though his face refused to show it, he was shaken. His frame was fidgeting like an anxious Yamper. His frame shrunken like an alarmed Silicobra.

Raihan glared at the man before looking around. Finally noting the crowd, Raihan nodded. He grabbed Piers and got out of the diner.

~

“I can’t fucking believe him.” Piers slammed the door behind him. “That arsehole thinks he can just show up acting like he did nothing wrong.” He tossed his jacket on the ground. “Then tries to kiss me thinking it’ll make everything better. Fuck that!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Piers tried to recompose himself. He looked at Raihan, who had been pretty quiet for the entire journey home. It made Piers feel guilty seeing as he was letting the incident at the dinner get to him.

“I’m sorry for losing my cool. That was my ex.” Piers folded his arms. “I thought I wouldn't see him again. Prayed I wouldn’t. I… I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I let him get under my skin. I thought I was over him and the torment he put me through. I should have walked away and found you. Not let him corner me like that.”

Tense, Piers walked down the hallway, Raihan not far behind. As Piers entered his room, a fist struck the wall. Though it didn’t leave a dent, it did cause Raihan to jump, rushing over to Piers to make sure he was okay. He inspected the hand, that was now turning red on his knuckles. A defeated sigh escaped him as his free hand covered his face.

Raihan led Piers to the bathroom. Grabbing the first aid kit, he pulled out the bandages. Piers’ hand might not have been bleeding, but Raihan wanted it covered to prevent further damage. Piers, all the while, was quiet, grinding his teeth. He didn’t resist as Raihan had him sit on the counter and worked on his hand.

Remembering what Marnie said earlier that Piers just confirmed, Raihan processed what to do from here. His blood was boiling now that he had a face to the ex. But what made it worse, was how swiftly the man chose to hit Piers. That didn’t feel spontaneous. That felt familiar.

“He didn’t just cheat on you, did he?” Raihan inquired.

Silence. Raihan stood in front of him, leaning forward, as he watched Piers. Black and white hair shook as adrenaline started to subside. Raihan wasn’t going to be forceful, but he wanted to help.

“Piers? Did he beat you?”

Piers, through gritted teeth and aggravated panic, nodded. Backing up slightly, Raihan let out a sympathetic sigh. No wonder Piers was so stressed. Cheating on Piers was already bad, but beating him only made it worse. Raihan wondered if Marnie knew. Though given she never mentioned it, Raihan doubted she did.

Mentally, Raihan was glad that he stepped in. There was no way in hell he would let that happen. Ever again. However, that didn’t matter in the moment. Not when Piers was trying to hold off every emotion in the book.

Adrenaline and rage dissipated as Piers’ frame deflated. His body shook violently now, and tears started trailing. He remained quiet, but tried to hide his face. Raihan gently held Piers’ shoulders.

“Piers… It’s… I’m here.” Patiently, he waited for a response. It didn’t have to be vocal. It could be a nod. A glance. An extended hand. Anything.

“Hold me.” Piers softly requested.

He gently pulled Piers off of the counter and pulled him in for a hug. Raihan’s hand cupped the back of Piers’ head, as his other around Piers’ waist.

“Let it out.”

Piers buried his head in Raihan’s jacket. His arms wrapped his arms around Raihan as he let out a whimper. His legs buckled and gave out, which prompted Raihan to sit down, setting Piers on his lap.

Raihan remained silent, letting Piers get out what he needed to without prodding. His head tilted as he heard footsteps. Light, worried footsteps.

“He’s gonna be okay.” Raihan quietly assured, looking at Marnie with a sympathetic gaze as he tightened his hold slightly. “He had a rough morning.”

Nodding, Marnie disappeared for a moment. She returned with a black and white blanket with red accents. Proceeding to drape it over Piers, Marnie sat beside them, resting her hand on her brother’s back.

“It’s okay.” Marnie whispered. “I’m here, and Raihan’s gonna protect you, yeah. We love you.”

Her hand fell onto her lap as Piers weakly nodded. Glaring at Raihan, Raihan knew Marnie was thanking him. Though he knew he had a ways to go to prove himself, he knew this was a start.

Raihan pulled her into the hug, letting the Spikemuth duo share the embrace as Piers released the beast. Unity and comfort was a dish best served warm and that’s just what they needed. Flicking Piers’s hair, he reflected on the situation. He hated that Piers had to suffer, but he also realized he needed to see it. To see the pain. And now that he did, Raihan knew what to do in order to protect Piers. And he would do everything in his power to keep Piers safe.

#au #fanfic #fanfiction #ship fic #angst #kibana #pokemon #pokémon #raihan #raihan x piers #eboyshipping #hurt/comfort #angst with comfort #marnie #marnie pokemon #oneshot #kbnz #piers #nezu #hugs

[artyartpile]

Bede/Hop | Pokemon Sword and Shield

Fic Summary:

Hop's day was going great, until Bede showed up at his doorstep and shoved an egg into his hands.

This was not how he was expecting things to go.

#pokemon #bedehop #cheeryfairyshipping #rival bede #rival hop #gym leader bede #pokemon sword and shield #sword and shield #swsh #my fanfics #fanfic #LISTEN I KNOW I TAKE FOREVER TO UPDATE THIS FIC BUT I WILL FINISH THIS FIC I SWEAR IT #also yes there's a lot of angsting this chapter but hey!!! i swear it's the last time it'll be that painful!!!

[theright2quack]

"It is not about a destination. It is about making the journey easier." The warden's eyes slightly darkened, "as long as I do not remember how I arrived to Hisui, there is nothing I can do about the destination."

Adaman's eyes narrowed critically. "If you did remember, would you try to change it?"

#pokemon #pokemon masters #pokemas #pla #pokemon legends arceus #submas #submas au #submas pla #submas angst #ingo #warden ingo #subway boss ingo #adaman #clan leader adaman #fic #tr2q #awip au