just a gal who likes pokémon

Intro!

Hey there! My name is Clair! This is my 2nd blog for writing Pokémon fanfics!

I am a minor, so take care to not be creepy, and we’ll be fine!

My favorite Pokémon are:

-Vulpix; Alolan or Kantonian (could you tell?)

-Sylveon

-Primarina

-Togekiss

-Gigalith

-Inteleon

And, uh, that’s pretty much everything you need to know.

Masterlist:

(…of sorts. there will be more to come.)

Corbeau:

The Princess of the Rust Syndicate

Au Revoir

Don’t Go (Part 1)

I Bet on Losing Dogs

That’s Gonna Leave a Mark

Grisham:

Au Revoir

Don’t Go (Part 2)

That’s Gonna Leave a Mark

Urbain:

Shy Away

(Warden) Ingo:

Stand up Straight!

Multi-Pairings:

Youch!

The Ring of Fire

Movie Night!

RULES: (please read!)

Hello! My requests are currently closed!

I will try my best to do any request I am sent, but…

I will not write:

-smut (i am a MINOR. please do not ask for this.)

-polyamory (no hate! just not my thing to write!)

-the obvious no’s (anything hateful or illegal, basically)

I will add to this list if a figure out anything else that makes me uncomfortable!

And yes, Pokémon is my current obsession, but I’ve only played Let’s Go Pikachu, Sword, Legnds Z-A, and Brilliant Diamond, so try to keep your requests to only those games!

Corbeau:

It wasn’t that he underestimated you, per se.

In Corbeau’s defense, you don’t have your pokémon by your side as often as you’d like. Your bigger partners tend to be inconveniences in crowds and buildings, and even your smaller ones tend to intimidate and scare people off, so you keep them nice and safe in their pokéballs.

Your beloved ace, he knew only as Blueberry. He assumed it was a Slurpuff or Audino, something cute…but he stood, instead, in the shadow of a towering Aggron as you sat down at the café.

He found himself staring as you offered your pokémon a pastry, and it made a pleased noise, “This is the famous Blueberry I’ve been hearing about?” He asked.

You nodded, grinning, “Isn’t he a sweetie?”

Corbeau let out a noncommittal hum. He had never seen an Aggron quite so…

He watched as Blueberry whined for another treat after scarfing down its first.

…soft.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how exactly did you decide on the name ‘Blueberry’?” Corbeau asked inquisitively.

You grinned excitedly, scratching Blueberry behind his horns, “Are you kidding? Look at those beautiful blue eyes! Perfectly sky blue.” Your Aggron grunted happily. “Plus, he’s sweet like a berry, too.”

Corbeau could feel his lips curling into a smile. He would be lying if he said he didn’t find your reasoning and lack of regard for Blueberry’s intimidation level endearing, but he was suddenly struck with a thought. You’d shared tales of your other pokémon, and you’d mentioned two others who you’d told him were “just utter sweeties”.

He was suddenly very curious of what pokémon they could possibly be.

So as you cooed over Blueberry, Corbeau smirked, “So, is this your whole team? Or are there others you’re holding out on?”

You slowly turned to your boyfriend, eyes narrow, “Why are you so curious all of a sudden?”

His smirk, a tell-tale sign he wasn’t just suddenly curious to meet your partners, stayed firmly on his face, “Why so defensive, hmm? Introduce me to the others.”

You knew he was up to something, the look on his face didn’t make that fat subtle, but you couldn’t figure out what. So, reluctantly, you took two pokéballs off your belt and released your pokémon.

An Umbreon and female Pyroar purred and nudged you in sync as they were released, clearly angling for one of the pastries on the table, and Corbeau was barely restraining himself. He absolutely could not wait to see what you’d named these elegant, intimidating creatures.

“Meet Kitty and Licorice,” you said matter-of-factly, petting your pokémon as they begged for treats.

Oh, Arceus, he couldn’t take it. He was about to die from holding in his laughter.

And you definitely noticed.

You lightly slapped him on the arm, expression pouty, “Oh, stop it! I know what you’re doing!”

Corbeau, with extreme effort, managed to swallow his laughter, “I’m sorry, angel, I just think it’s…” he watched Kitty and Licorice attempt to nip a pastry from Blueberry’s mouth, “…sweet.” He said as he slipped his hand into yours.

You suddenly found yourself unable to be annoyed at how entertaining your boyfriend found your team’s names.

The first thing you did after stepping off the train was throwing yourself into Corbeau’s arms. Two weeks in Sinnoh were amazing, of course, but you had missed your beloved boyfriend dearly. 

“I missed you, handsome,” you smiled.

He smiled as well, leaning forward to kiss you, “Likewise. I can’t wait to hear all about your trip.”

A bitterly cold wind passed through the station, and you both shivered.

“At home,” he added quickly.

You laughed but took the hand he offered, leading you towards his car.

Once you’d reached your shared apartment, you sunk into the expensive leather couch, thoroughly exhausted from your journey.

“So,” he asked, sitting beside you, “tell me how it went.”

You suddenly shot back up as if you’d been hit with another sudden burst of energy, a wide grin splitting your face, “Oh! Oh! I almost forgot!”

Corbeau smiles. He’d certainly missed your seemingly boundless energy during your vacation, “Alright. Show me.”

You plucked a Great Ball from the satchel you had around your waist and stuck it about an inch before Corbeau’s face, “What pokémon do you think is in here?”

He blinked, leaning back so he had room to see the ball, “I’m not sure.”

Your grin brightened as you tossed the ball into the air, out popping a Clefairy.

But not just any Clefairy, oh no.

A shiny.

He was about to comment, when you spoke up excitedly, practically bouncing on the heels of your feet.

”Isn’t it amazing?!” You were certainly excited about the shiny, “Now, I know what you’re wondering. How did it get so be so…special?”

Corbeau blinked. It was a special pokémon, sure, but…why didn’t you use the correct term?

“Now, I noticed this green variety of berry were in heavy supply in Sinnoh, so my theory for its coloration is that, maybe, it ate so many that the color of the fruit affected the colors of its ears? That would also explain the paleness, so I’ve named it accordingly! This is Berry the Clefairy!”

Ah.

You didn’t know what a shiny was.

He put aside his confusion as to how you’d gone your whole life without knowing what a shiny was, and cracked a smile, “It’s a shiny.”

You looked at him confused, “I guess it does have a shine to it.”

You couldn’t be serious. He had to hold himself back from laughing, “No, angel, it’s a shiny pokémon.”

You just tilted your head, clearly still confused.

“Some pokémon have a naturally different coloration than their species usually does. It’s quite rare, you’re very lucky you caught one of your own.” He pulled out his rotom phone, turning it around to display a picture of another Clefairy with the same colors as Berry, “See? We call these pokémon ‘shinies’.”

You looked between the photo on the screen and the pokémon in front of you, and he could practically see the gears turning before you audibly gasped, turning to examine your unusual friend.

Corbeau was enamored as he watched you ramble excitedly to the Clefairy, as if it could understand why it had made you so happy by simply having green ears.

“Spring wedding…” he whispered to himself with a soft smile as he watched you coo over Berry, in awe of your new discovery.

“What was that?”

It wasn’t hard to notice.

The way you refused his invites to battle, the way you ducked away from the Wild Zones on your walks, the way you flinched away from your own pokémon…it worried him.

Urbain knew you’d come to Lumiose as an escape from something you’d experienced before, you’d told him that, but he’d never pressed it. He just had no idea how bad the ordeal you’d gone through was.

He’d never pushed it, he never wanted to be nosy, but he decided he had to at least bring it up after an observation at the Lumiose Museum.

He’d caught you muttering to yourself about the artifacts, and not in the normal way, in a way that made it seem like you’d known the people who wore those clothes, or had been to the places on the maps.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, looking at you with concern as you stared up at a piece of clothing and muttering something nonsensical to yourself, “Um, sweetheart? Are you…good? You’re kind of talking to yourself.”

Your head snapped up, forcing a tired smile onto your face, “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay.”

Yeah, he wasn’t that oblivious.

He wouldn’t press it in the middle of the museum, of course, but he knew that there was no more avoiding the subject.

You gazed so intently at the museum objects, looking sourly at some objects, others with fondness, and some with outright fear. Urbain wasn’t going to pretend he understood having big reactions to museums at all, but even he knew that this level of emotion wasn’t the usual.

Once you two were home, you started off towards your bedroom, but Urbain quickly grabbed your arm, taking notice of the way you flinched when he did, with a concerned look on his face, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

When you nodded he tugged you toward a pair of chairs and had you sit down across from him, intending to handle this assumedly sensitive subject with the utmost tact and respect-

“Why do you act like that?” he blurted out.

Damn his big, fat mouth.

You were obviously irked by the statement, “Excuse me?”

“No, no, no!” He quickly amended, “I-I just meant that you’ve been really jumpy, and then at the museum you kept talking to yourself-“ Oh Arceus, how had he already messed this up?

You, quickly understanding what this confrontation was turning towards, stiffened up and became suddenly deeply invested in the floor. You slipped your hands out of your boyfriend’s and fidgeted with your fingers, “Urbain, I’m really tired, I think I’m gonna head to bed-“

“It’s seven o’clock,” he interjected quickly, his face not angry or frustrated, but concerned, “there’s no way you’re tired.”

You’d been had.

“I…I just…” tears were coming to your eyes, and you quickly stood up to escape.

Urbain stood up as well, grabbing your hands, “Please, you’re worrying me. Whatever it is you can tell me!”

“I can’t!” You burst out, tears now running freely down your face, “Urbain, you wouldn’t believe me, alright?!”

“I’ll try!” he pleaded, squeezing your hands as tight as he could, “I promise, please, just tell me.”

You were tempted to refuse again, to push him away from that part of your life, but as you stared deep into his scared, blue eyes, you found yourself unable to. He looked so worried, and he cared for you so, so much. You couldn’t do this to him. You took a deep breath, and managed to choke it out, “When…I was a kid, I went back in time.”

Urbain didn’t laugh, he didn’t ask if you were serious, he didn’t even make a face. He just listened to you tearfully tell a story that would sound insane to any stranger who listened in.

“I used to live in Sinnoh, and I know it sounds crazy, but I really went back in time, to Hisui. I was there for…ugh, six months…? I don’t remember, but back in Hisui, pokémon were…” you trailed off for a moment, squeezing his hands tighter, “…not like they are now. They were violent, and I just…never got over seeing them that way.”

At this point, you could barely breathe with how choked up you were. It was years and years ago you were taken from the present and sent to the violent, dangerous world you should’ve never been a part of, but you would never, ever forget it.

Urbain gently raised a hand to wipe tears off your cheeks, as he stared deep into your eyes, “Thank you for telling me,” he whispered, “I can’t even imagine…”

You leaned into Urbain’s hand, relishing the touch after revealing something so sensitive. You felt lighter, knowing your past was now in the hands of the man you trusted most.

Urbain took a breath, “I can help, if you want.”

You looked back up at him, reverently. Of course he was willing to help. Arceus, you were so happy to be with him.

“I can help you trust pokémon more. It doesn’t have to be a sudden thing— it doesn’t even have to happen at all if you don’t want it to! I just…want you to feel safe,” He said.

And for the first time in a while, you smiled.

Corbeau:

Well, this wasn’t how he wanted to start his morning

He was thinking maybe some coffee and laying in bed, but instead…

Blood

He rolled over in bed to say good morning to you, and was greeted by the wonderful sight of his wonderful spouse’s arm drenched in blood

He didn’t scream

(he wanted to, I’ll say that)

But he immediately shot up in bed, looking you over for any other wounds

What could’ve happened?? You were fine when you went to bed last night, did someone break in??

You, having been awakened by your boyfriend frantically checking you for injury, sat up groggily and looked at your arm

However, all you did was sigh and say “Aw, man”

That had him….a little confused. You were bleeding and didn’t seem too concerned with it

You noticed his confusion, and quickly explained

You have very clumsy tendencies, and when you got up last night, you must’ve hit yourself on something

That combined with thin skin lead to…this

And while Corbeau still wasn’t happy that you’d hurt yourself, he was definitely relieved to hear that it was nothing more than an accident

He huffed and dragged you to the bathroom to clean you up

And now he has to consider child-proofing your house to avoid something similar happening again

He does love you though. No matter how much these new findings will inevitably stress him out.

Grisham:

Seeing you at the truck is one of the best parts of his day, no question

Your smiles are contagious, and you make his hard days (and even his good days) so much better

So, he nearly dropped an entire cup of coffee when you came up to the truck with a huge grin…

…and a bruise on your shoulder about twice as big.

He stopped and stared for a good minute before you snapped in his face

“Grish? You good?”

He pretty much snatched you from the sidewalk and dragged you into the truck

He already had you sitting down on a stool with your sleeves rolled up before you knew what hit you

He was quick to ask you how the bruise happened, but to be honest?

That was the first time you’d noticed it was even there

So, naturally, you shrugged, and Grisham was baffled

How did you not know?? It was a huge bruise on your arm!

You noticed his, quite frankly, concerned stare, so you laughed and quickly explained

You told him that you had a very bad habit of not paying attention to where you were going, so the bruise was just a result of inattention and bad coordination

And while Grisham was relieved to hear that, it didn’t mean that he let you off the hook

You knew you’d be getting a lecture from him at home later, and he could tell you knew, so he just said he was glad that you were okay, then kissed you

Your mother had tugged you along, ushering you home before you could get soaked by the sudden onslaught of heavy rain.

You squealed as you ducked inside and shook yourself dry like a wet Rockruff, then returned to lamenting over the playtime you’d lost to the unfortunate bout of weather.

However, your woes were interrupted by the sight of a boy across the street. He was around your age— seven or so— except he didn’t seem to have a mother rushing him home from the pouring rain. As far as you could see, he just had himself, some old, beat-up-looking clothes, and a Venipede.

He was going to catch a cold, you’d thought to yourself, and you grabbed two umbrellas from beside your front door, slipping back outside before your mother could notice.

He seemed far too focused on hugging the Venipede to his chest to notice you approach, and he didn’t even look up until you spoke.

“Do you have an umbrella?” You asked innocently.

The boy seemed surprised for a moment, as if he were taken aback that you were talking to him, before he shook his head.

You grinned, “Do you want one?” You asked, extending a bright red umbrella towards him.

He reluctantly accepted the help, extending the umbrella but not moving from him spot in the alley.

Not yet satisfied to go back inside, you plopped yourself down next to the boy, “Why’re you out in the rain without an umbrella?” You asked rather tactlessly, which, fairly enough, was to be expected from a young child.

The boy’s cheeks went red, and he averted your gaze, “I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he admitted.

“Oh,” you said, staring down at the pavement for another moment before you determined your next course of action, “I’m gonna be famous someday, y’know.”

The boy looked confused, “You are?”

“Yeah!” You exclaimed, popping back up excitedly, “I’m gonna be the Champion when I grow up, and I’m gonna be the strongest trainer in the world!”

The boy paused for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

You huffed, stomping your little foot, “Don’t laugh!” you’d cried, “It’s true, you’ll see!”

“Do you even have any pokémon??” He giggled.

Your cheeks went pink, but you glared at him, “Well, no, but I’m gonna get some, and they’re gonna be super strong!”

He just laughed more.

“Well, then, Mister Smarty-Pants, what’re you gonna do?!” You retorted, and this seemed to get to boy to regain his composure, looking you deep in the eyes with an intensity you’d never seen before.

“I’m gonna be rich,” he said.

You paused for a moment, sitting down beside him again and raising an eyebrow, “Really?”

He nodded, “Yeah. I’m gonna have, like, a million-bajillion dollars, and I’m gonna have a huge house with lots of food and stuff-“

“How are you gonna get rich?” You asked, as if this were a serious business pitch.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but it’s gonna happen.”

You paused for a moment, then nodded sagely, “Okay. I believe you.”

His head snapped up, surprised, “Really?”

You nodded, grinning, “You seem like you could make a lotta money! I believe in you!”

The boy was flabbergasted; acting like he’d never heard anything like those words before. He suddenly felt embarrassed for having laughed at your dreams.

“Listen,” you spoke up suddenly, looking him very intensely in the eyes, as if you were conducting a business deal, “when you’re super rich, and I’m Champion, we have to live together.”

“What?” The boy asked, his eyes widening and his cheeks going red.

You nodded, “Yeah! I’ll be all over the place, since I’m so strong, and I’ll need a place to stay when I’m in Lumiose!”

The boy was stunned silent for a moment before he nodded, “Um…okay.” He paused again, “My name’s Corbeau,” he said, rather shyly.

You grinned and introduced yourself in return.

“…you know, I bet you’re gonna be really strong someday. I’m sorry I laughed.” He said sheepishly.

“It’s okay. And I know you’re gonna be super rich,” you began, smiling ear to ear, “I’d bet a million dollars.”

And he promised silently that you wouldn’t be throwing away your money.

——————

“Ugh…come on…” you groaned, picking up your hood as you felt the sudden drops of rain on your hair. Your house was all the way across the city, and with how quickly the rain seemed to be picking up, you weren’t sure you’d be able to make it back.

You held your hands over your head as a last-ditch effort to try and keep yourself dry, but it was futile. You were considering just plain sprinting back to your place through the pouring rain, when it suddenly stopped.

Well, it felt like that.

In reality, a familiar face had come to your aid, holding a bright red umbrella steadily over your head.

“Corbeau,” you smiled, “what are you doing out here?”

“I’m here to take you to my office,” he smiled, “I can’t well leave you out in this weather.”

You grinned, “But I can’t stay with you yet,” you joked, “I’m not Champion, that was part of the deal.”

“Well,” he began, “I’m willing to make an exception. After all, you’re the reason I held up my end of the deal.”

You looked at him and cocked an eyebrow, “How so?”

“I was a homeless little kid who’d told you, fully confident, that I was going to be rich someday,” he began, looking up at the sky as it poured, “most people— most kids, even— would’ve laughed themselves silly, and for a good reason. You shouldn’t have believed in that kid, he had nothing and said he was going to have everything,” there was a beat, “But you believed me.”

Another beat.

“You believed in me. And that was instrumental; then and now.”

You smiled again, “I always have.”

Corbeau:

Corbeau knew he could trust you out in Lumiose alone…

…but that doesn’t mean he did.

It’s not that he thought you were incapable, nothing like that at all! He knew you were strong, but he knew his work at the Syndicate didn’t exactly make him…the most popular.

Especially those who he’d gotten into especially bad debt.

So, just for safety, he usually had a grunt or two stalk tail you. Not too close, and not too obvious, he wanted you to live your life and do what you want, just at a distance where they would observe and report back at the end of the day.

So, when two grunts burst into his office without any sort of warning in the middle of the day, he was about to reprimand them and have Philippe kick them out, until he noticed that these were the grunts he’d sent to follow you today. That was when he felt a cold, hollow sense of dread overtake him.

“Why aren’t you with your charge?” He asked, his teeth gritted.

The grunts, clearly panicked, shared a glance before one spoke up, “We was followin’ ‘em, like you asked, but then someone came out and just- just-“ they stumbled over their words for a bit before the other grunt took over.

“Attacked ‘em.” They finished, quickly steeling themself for Corbeau’s wrath.

But his voice was…eerily calm. Icy.

“And you did nothing to prevent this?” He asked quietly, barely louder than a whisper.

“We did!” The grunt defended quickly, almost shaking, “We fought ‘em off, but they already…” the grunt trailed off.

“Where are they now?” Corbeau asked quietly. When the grunts didn’t answer, he slammed his fists down on the desk, his voice now at full volume and his expression harboring the fury of ten gods, “I SAID WHERE ARE THEY?!”

“Right out there!” The grunt squeaked, “W-we thought we’d bring ‘em to ya!”

If it were a cartoon, there would’ve been a Corbeau-shaped hole in the wall.

He practically smashed through the door to see you on the couch just outside his office, a crowd of grunts all around you.

The second the crowd cleared, he felt like he’d been hit square in the chest by Sheer Cold.

You were curled up on the couch, covered in blood and bruises, and Corbeau felt nauseous as he looked at your leg, which was clearly bent the wrong way. You were wheezing, and he saw how your chest shook with each labored breath. You looked like you were about to-

It was like a horror movie, but this was real.

Too real.

He collapsed to his knees beside you, and it was one of the only times Corbeau felt truly useless. He didn’t know what to do, he was afraid to touch you in case your injuries were somehow worse than they looked.

“Angel,” he breathed, “what…?”

You barely managed to choke out a word through your wheezing, “Some guy…attacked me…don’t know why…”

Corbeau knew why, and he felt his chest clench. It was someone he’d gotten into debt, he just knew it. This was some sick revenge.

“Alright-“ he whispered thickly, “Just…stay awake. Please.” Before you could even respond, you felt an arm under your knees, and another under your lower back. He was…carrying you.

“‘Beau-“ you whispered, but he quickly hushed you.

As he practically sprinted out of the building, his jaw was clenched and his mind was racing. Your assailant was at the front of all those thoughts, however. He would find them. He would find them, and they better have made peace with their god when he did.

Your breathing was getting quieter, and Corbeau was so painfully aware of it. You couldn’t do this to him. He was alone for so many years, and he would never be able to handle it if you-

No. You would never be that selfish, would you?

You needed to make it.

For Corbeau.

He practically kicked down the hospital doors, his teeth gritted with both anger and the effort of holding back tears. He definitely threatened the entire staff and the hospital with bankruptcy if they didn’t hurry up in getting you help, but the second you were out of his arms and taken around the corner, Corbeau felt a weight so intense it brought him to his knees.

It was his fault, wasn’t it?

If it really was one of his clients that had hurt you (and being realistic, Corbeau knew it was), it was his fault for being too harsh. It was his fault for not being there. It was his fault, cut and dry.

“I love you,” he whispered, knowing damn well you couldn’t hear him.

He didn’t know if he could handle it being his fault if you left him alone.

Corbeau:

-Corbeau’s favorite genre would be drama, and you cannot tell me different

-He would also occasionally like a romance, but that’s more of a guilty pleasure than anything

-His favorite movie of all time, though?

-Matilda

-Don’t ask me why, because I can’t explain but this man could watch it on repeat FOREVER

-And he will put down whatever he’s doing to give it his full attention. Every time. Like without fail

-(He prefers the old, non-singing one, but he actually adores the movie musical. Don’t tell anyone he has a reputation to uphold)

-As for horror movies…

-He would LOVE them

-He once binged every single Friday the 13th when he was forced to take time off because he was sick

-Seriously, you would come home and this man is like two inches from the screen watching them (sweetie come on please back up)

Grisham:

-Grisham’s fave genre is probably sci-fi, believe it or not

-He likes the story aspect, mostly

-But he does find the technical side fascinating too

-I feel like he’d really like The Martian

-Or Star Trek

-(Or whatever the Pokémon equivalents are)

-He became concerningly enthralled with it the first time he watched it

-And as for horror!!!

-Yeah he’s not a fan

-He’ll watch it if you two are having a movie night in and you want to

-But most times he’d rather not, he just doesn’t like it

-He actually did really like Carrie, but that’s where he draws the line

Ivor:

-Now, you might think Ivor would be into martial arts or action movies…….

-……and you would be right

-If they’re good, he’s almost giddy watching them, enjoying the action over the actual plot sometimes

-If they’re bad, he enjoys the opportunity to show off and critique the accuracy of the moves and stances and whatnot

-His fave movie…

-the karate kid (GIVE ME A BREAK ITS THE ONLY MARTIAL ARTS MOVIE I KNOWWWWW)

-he has no idea why it just really speaks to him

-He also cries while watching it. can’t elaborate.

-And guys. Do NOT ask this man to watch a horror movie with you

-Or do? He WILL scream and cling to you like a seven year old girl at EVERY scare

-The most horror he can physically handle is Casper, so maybe don’t push your luck

Urbain:

-Oh boy oh boy oh boy!!

-*deep breath*

-URBAIN’S FAVORITE GENRE IS MUSICALS

-The songs hold his attention better than other movies, and he could watch them for days

-As a theatre kid I could list off all the musicals he’d like one by one,

-But this man would be enamored with Legally Blonde

-Cries every time. And I mean every time. He knows it’s coming guys, how does he still cry

-But also. This many loves horror

-Especially horror/comedy (like beetlejuice, which is where musicals come in again)

-He WILL surprise you some random October afternoon with time off and a horror movie marathon :)

Corbeau:

The air was so thick a Scyther could cut it.

Corbeau sat at his desk, like any normal day…but with a few differences.

His demeanor, for one. His usual suave and composed manner was nowhere to be seen, instead replaced with this foot-tapping, jaw-clenching, vain-pulsing mess. It betrayed an exceeding sense of anxiety.

What had Corbeau so worried?

You did.

Your arrival in Lumiose was a vacation, he knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less when, a few weeks ago, you mentioned that you had planned to go home soon.

Today. You, his partner, were leaving today.

He wanted you to stay. He needed it.

He needed to see you walk through his office door every day, he needed to see you running around on the rooftops every time he looked outside, he needed to come home and see you grin at him.

Corbeau had promised himself he wouldn’t stop you from leaving. He couldn’t do that to you, couldn’t get in your way like that.

But, then again, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t try?

He stood up sharply, slamming his pen down as he grabbed his coat ans worked his way towards the door.

Yes, it was the middle of the day, but he really couldn’t care less.

Paperwork be damned, you were his partner, and he needed you in Lumiose.

He signaled for the first Lumi Cab he could find, and was practically pulling his hair out on the way to the train station.

He couldn’t stop you, he knew that would be giving into his most selfish desires, but he needed to at least make his case.

He loved you, and he needed you to know that.

The cab had barely stopped before Corbeau’s feet hit the pavement and he sprinted into the Gare de Lumiose. He screeched to a halt inside, looking around for you feverishly.

But you weren’t there.

Corbeau felt his heart grow 30 pounds heavier and drop into his stomach. Had he missed you? Had he missed his chance? God, you were gone, and he was never going to see you again-

“Corbeau?” A voice suddenly called from behind him, and he turned to see you.

He immediately slammed himself into you, wrapping his arms around you as tight as he could.

You hadn’t left. You were still here, and so was his chance.

“Angel,” he began quickly, “I know this was your vacation, I know you have a home to go back to, and I know I can’t stop you, but-“

“‘Beau,” you cut him off, a smile cracking across your face, “I’m not going anywhere.”

He paused for a moment, processing, “You’re not…? But you- and you’re-“ He (very uncharacteristically) stuttered for a few more minutes before he went silent to let you explain.

“I know I said that I’d have to go home soon, and I’m so sorry that I worried you with that, but I realized something this morning,” you said, staring deep into his honeyed eyes, “this is my home.”

Corbeau swallowed thickly.

“After Ange, the rogue mega evolution, Team MZ…” you listed, “…you, I just can’t imagine spending my life anywhere else.”

“I knew I wasn’t leaving the second we met,” you smiled, your grip on your boyfriend tightening, “I love you.”

Corbeau’s eyes watered, but he smiled, “I love you, too.”

Grisham:

At times, Grisham is hard to read. But, today, there was no mistaking how he felt. He was distracted, his shoulders were tense, and he seemed shaky.

“Gris!” A voice suddenly hissed.

She gave the man a quick once-over and narrowed her eyes, “Something’s wrong,” she stated. It wasn’t a question, it was the beginning of a silent investigation.

“Is it them?” Griselle asked, stating her theory while taking careful precision not to actually say your name.

Grisham’s shoulders tightened, and he took a small breath in and out. He thought for a moment about whether or not to talk to Griselle about it, before he sighed and nodded.

How had you managed to worry the picture of calm?

Well, it started a few weeks ago, when you’d asked him to take a look at the calendar on your Rotom phone. You’d wanted to know the start time of an event or some such, but he couldn’t remember that part. What he remembered was seeing “Leaving Lumiose” in big, red letters on one day.

Today.

He hadn’t spoken to you about it, of course. He’d known this was a vacation to you, but he’d never really connected that that meant you would have to leave.

And Arceus help him, he was terrified.

There was so much he needed to say, to do, but now he wasn’t sure if he’d get the chance.

Grisham loved you. A passionate, fiery love that had been burning him from the moment he met you.

He didn’t care if you didn’t feel the same, he didn’t care if you’d reject him, he just needed to tell you.

Griselle rolled her eyes, her usual irritated attitude still strong, “You love them, and you need to tell them,” she said, as if it were so simple.

“They’re leaving today, Griselle. I’ve missed my chance.” Grisham said, his grip on whatever he was currently pouring tightening.

She stared at Grisham for a few more moments before letting out a heavy sigh, “Go,” she said, “I’ll handle the truck for a bit. The customers probably don’t like seeing you all depressed and shit.” She said, “It’s bad for business.”

“The customers”, Grisham knew, was referring to Griselle. A fact she would never admit herself. Nevertheless, he smiled and stepped out of the truck to give her a hug.

“Alright, alright!” She hissed, “Just go already!”

And with that, Grisham took off (in hindsight, he probably should’ve ordered a Lumi Cab, but his mind was far from that in the moment).

God, he hoped you hadn’t left yet. He couldn’t bear the thought of never getting to tell you that he-

“Grisham?”

A warm, familiar voice called to him, slightly bewildered.

He screeched to a halt in front of you, who was just leaving Hotel Z with your bag.

“Isn’t the truck open right now? What are you-?” You stumbled for a moment, before Grisham suddenly grabbed your hands, causing your cheeks to go a bright red.

“Listen to me, please,” he begged, his eyes opening reveal those gorgeous red irises you reveled in being able to see, “I know this is your vacation, I know you have a home you must return to,” he began, “and I would never stop you in that regard. I just needed you to know…”

He raised a hand to push some hair out of your face, “…I love you.” he said almost breathlessly.

You were left speechless for what felt like an eternity. You struggled to think of the words, or even where to begin, but you managed to choke something out, “Gris…I’m not leaving.”

He blinked.

“Not after Ange, or Team MZ, or you,” you said, reaching to take his face in your hands, “Lumiose is my home now. You’re my home now. And I regret any time I didn’t make that clear.”

“Your calendar-“ he stuttered.

“You know I have a terrible memory. I forgot to take my departure off of there.”

Grisham had to hold back a grin from splitting his face in two.

Corbeau:

His eye twitched as you stood smugly at the other edge of the battlefield.

“This is unfair.”

“It’s totally fair.”

Your Delphox let out a purr-like noise and looked at Corbeau with the same superior look you had.

Your boyfriend had just had quite the…embarrassing loss, to say the least. You and your Delphox, due to a mix of skill and, as your boyfriend would insist, type advantage, has absolutely destroyed his Scolipede.

“It is not, and you both know it.” He said, narrowing his eyes with a hollow frustration.

You snorted, “You had plenty of rawst berries. And potions.”

“Alright-“ he grumbled.

“And bug type moves! You had a partial type advantage, and you still lost,” you teased.

Corbeau didn’t say anything, he just gave you a sharp look with his arms crossed, which you’d come to know as your boyfriend’s silent way of telling you he was upset.

You smiled, taking your Delphox’s face in your hands, “Aww, can you really stay mad at this face?”

Corbeau paused for a moment, contemplating your statement, before a small smile cracked across his face, “I suppose I can’t.”

Despite the fact he absolutely knew you were referring to your partner pokémon, he looked directly at you as he said it, causing your cheeks to go as red as the firey attacks you’d used to best him.

Grisham:

Despite the…somewhat troubling memories connected to them, Grisham still loved fire types, so when he found out your beloved partner was a Delphox, he was immediately fascinated with them.

However, he didn’t expect your partner to be so…attached.

Every time you and him were alone together, think again. Your Delphox would coincidentally pop out of its pokéball, and wedge its way im between the two of you.

God forbid you kiss in front of it, it would be fuming. Literally.

Grisham wasn’t an idiot, he obviously noticed how much your pokémon seemed to value your time and attention, and how it wasn’t exactly eager to see you giving more of it to him.

And so, his quest to win over your Delphox began.

It started, obviously, with food. Whether it was giving it something extra when you ordered at the truck, or giving it slightly higher quality food when you ate together, he was sure food would be the way to its heart.

Then, it was praise. A compliment after a good battle that made its chest puff up with pride, making sure it had a chance to show off during battles, things like that.

And, over time, Grisham noticed its glares soften, its interruptions became less frequent, and it seemed to become slightly more accepting of you two.

He hoped that, eventually, he could fully win your pokémon’s “blessing”, per se.

Ivor:

Your Delphox was…very active, to put it lightly. And it was that fact that told you that your partner would go absolutely insane if you brought it with you for a day of errands.

And so, you decided that the best course of action was to leave it in the trust of your boyfriend at the Justice Dojo. And Ivor was happy to oblige, excited to show you that he could be a good boyfriend and you could trust him with something you love!

So here he was, waving to you as you left him alone with your energetic partner. Ivor turned around, ready to possibly do some training with your Delphox…only to see it immediately begin running around the dojo, casting its moves and destroying everything in its path.

So…you were not lying when you mentioned your Delphox’s energy levels.

He quickly launched into action, grabbing the pokéball you’d left him and calling it back. The container shook and rolled around in his hands before your partner burst back out and began running around again. Ivor panicked, both because he was afraid of what you would think if you came back and saw what was happening…and because he didn’t want his dojo wrecked.

He scrambled to grab his own pokéball, hoping to distract your partner with one of his own. His Falinks quickly popped out and figured out what it needed to do. Luckily, your Delphox took the bait hook, line, and sinker. It immediately turned to Ivor, who breathed a sigh of relief as it let out a jet of fire towards his Falinks.

He had a feeling the rest of the day would be…eventful.

Urbain:

You leaned against your boyfriend’s back as he stood in front of the stove, plopping your chin on his shoulder.

“Croissant curry again?”

Urbain smiled as he turned to look at you, “Did you just come here to spy on dinner?”

You smiled in return, “Maybe. But seriously, do you not know how to cook anything else?”

“It’s a classic!” He cried, “A culinary masterpiece!”

“Masterpiece? Really? Why don’t we get some impartial opinions on this?” You suggested, grabbing a pokéball off your belt.

“That’s hardly impartial!” He protested, “It’s your partner.”

“Well, it’s all we’ve got, and I think it’s worth a try,” you said, tossing the balls up into the air as your Delphox let out a happy cry.

Urbain huffed, plating some of his “masterpiece”, “I accept this challenge. My croissant curry will have its fame.”

You rolled your eyes and pet your Delphox on its head, offering it a forkful of the abomination. Your partner sniffed it for a moment, pausing. It already seemed wary, and it looked up at you. You nodded, and it took a bite of the curry…and immediately recoiled.

Urbain cried out indignantly as you burst out laughing and scratched the underside of your pokémon’s chin.

Corbeau:

It was sweet for him to watch. He had been working all day, and Scolipede was getting restless, so you offered to play with it until he was done. So, his work long forgotten, he had been watching you, your partner (an energetic Jolteon) and his own Scolipede play for who knows how long now.

He was just about to tear his gaze off you and focus on his paperwork, when there was a sudden bright light, and a cry from your pokémon.

He quickly looked up, only to see you on the ground, practically smoking, with your hair on end and your Jolteon standing happily beside you.

He was paralyzed (pun very much intended) for a moment, his brain trying to run through what could’ve possibly happened before he finally snapped out of it.

“Angel, what-?!” He hastily made his way over to you, helping you sit up.

“‘M fine! It’s fine!” You said, waving your hand dismissively, “She does that sometimes, she’s just excited.” Your Jolteon nudged your side gently, as what was presumably an apology for electrocuting you.

Corbeau huffed and gave your Jolteon a sharp look before turning back to you, his golden eyes betraying a kind of concern and tenderness he only ever had for you, “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”

You smiled, smoothing out your hair from the zap, “Yeah, I’m perfectly okay, just…one thing?”

Corbeau raised an eyebrow.

“…do you have any paralyze heals?”

Grisham:

It was quiet at the truck today. Business was slow, so you were next to the truck, playing with your partner pokémon, an Avalugg, while your boyfriend manned the truck.

Grisham enjoyed listening to the sounds of you playing with your pokémon, you were so kind and loving towards them, he found it so sweet and admirable-

“Oh my God!” He heard Griselle start laughing almost hysterically from beside the truck, and he realized he could no longer hear the sounds of you playing with your pokémon. He craned his head around to see what the commotion was about…and saw you there, frozen.

Literally frozen.

Your Avalugg, he deduced, had gotten a bit overexcited while playing and accidentally hit you with an ice type move and frozen you.

He blinked once. Then twice. Then, after a bit of quiet laughter, he finally snapped out of it and let Pyroar out of its ball, directing it to melt the ice surrounding you.

Once the ice was gone, you stood there, cheeks pink from either the cold or embarrassment.

“Don’t say a word,” you hissed.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a soft smile, gently extending his hand.

You scoffed but took his hand with a smile, “And maybe don’t laugh next time.”

Grisham kissed your cheek, still smiling, “Apologies, my love.”

You huffed, your cheeks pink as you smiled, “I guess I can forgive you.”

Ivor:

Ivor was always happy when you and your pokémon joined his training.

He loves waking up with you at the crack of dawn to stretch and spar while the rest of the city sleeps…it’s his idea of paradise.

Ivor was in the middle of training with his Falinks, while you were off to the side with your Braixen. While he normally enjoyed watching you two and seeing how excited you got and how close you were with your pokémon, he was currently very engaged with his own partner at the moment.

He was just about to suggest that you and he train just the two of you for a bit, when he suddenly heard a loud “ouch!” from where you were. He turned around quickly to see your forearms practically still smoldering while your Braixen let out loud apologetic cries.

“Sweetheart!” He cried, rushing over to you and taking your arms to examine them. Now, bless Ivor’s big ol’ heart, but he was never the sharpest tool in the shed. He had no idea what to do with a burn.

“Wh-what do I do??” He panicked, looking up at you with those big puppy dog eyes for your help.

“Ivor, honey, relax. You have burn heals here, right?”

He nodded, still looking like he was about to cry.

“Ivor,” you said again, smiling at your boyfriend, “I’m okay, really.”

He looked you over for another moment before pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.

Urbain:

You and Urbain, when you were both free, loved to battle. It was one of your favorite pastimes, and a great bonding experience.

Urbain mostly enjoyed it as a friendly competition, but you and your Beedrill lived for battling. You often got a bit too…into the battle. But your boyfriend didn’t mind. In fact, he loved seeing you in the zone! He thought it was awesome to watch you and your pokémon so in synch.

This was one of those times, the times where he was barely focused on the actual battle, and he was more interested in watching you. He was admiring your passion in battle, in awe of your-

You yelped suddenly as your Beedrill’s poison jab, which you had directed at Urbain’s pokémon, had accidentally gotten you square in the shoulder.

Urbain had to stop and watch with wide eyes for a moment. He blinked slowly as his brain had caught up with what happened.

“Oh my God!” he cried, running over to you as he snapped out of his stunned stupor, “Are you okay?!”

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” You insisted, rooting around in your satchel for an antidote, “he just got excited!” Your Beedrill buzzed apologetically.

“Are you sure??“ he asked nervously, hands hovering by your shoulder nervously, “you were poisoned!”

“This happens,” you waved it off, spraying the antidote on the wound and rolling your shoulder, “Alright. Ready to continue?” You asked.

Urbain, despite his worry, couldn’t help but smile, “Let’s take a break for a little while. Want to go get a coffee?”

It had started off fine enough.

Just a few rude comments, but you assumed the grunt was having a bad day, and you shrugged it off. But it quickly escalated to shots at your intelligence, skill, and overall level of competence. It made your eye twitch and your frustration rise, but you managed to hold it down for the entire mission. You had been doing some work with the Rust Syndicate in your free time lately, and the grunts, for the most part, treated you with respect and kindness, but it just so happened that you’d gotten stuck with a real dud today.

When it was finally, finally over, you practically collapsed in a chair by your boyfriend’s desk with an exaggerated sigh.

The man raised an eyebrow, his honeyed eyes staring at you with a warmth that paralleled the cold front he put up for others, “Is something wrong, sunshine?” He asked.

“Not wrong, per se,” you sighed, draping a hand over your eyes melodramatically, “it’s just my boyfriend forced me to work with a complete douche today,” you teased, expecting him to laugh it off, but no sound came.

You opened your eyes in time to see him pause on his paperwork, his full attention now on you as his eyes darkened.

“Explain,” he rumbled.

“‘Beau, it really isn’t-“

“I said explain.”

You paused for a moment before sighing again, “Just a grunt I was with today. I guess he was having a bad day or something, because he kept making these comments-“

“What kind of comments? About what? Which grunt?”

“Insult-y kinds. Stuff about my battling, my speed at completing tasks, dumb things like that. I don’t know his name, I think he’s new.” You detailed.

Corbeau scoffed, his jaw tightening, “That explains it…” he grumbled. He didn’t have to say what it explained for you to know; he'd made it clear to all his grunts from the day you started dating that you were to be treated with the utmost respect, and that he expected them to treat you as if you were their boss.

Well, that was how Corbeau phrased it. You and the grunts both knew what it meant, though. He wanted them to treat you like a princess.

His jaw was clenched, his warm eyes now dark with anger and his paperwork long forgotten, “I’ll find out. He’s gone like that; I can’t believe someone had the level of idiocy to-“

“Corbeau.” You said, placing your hand over his to calm him, “Don’t fire him. It’s not a big deal, really.”

Corbeau huffed, a light pink dusting his face when you placed your hand on his, “I cannot abide when someone treats you this way.”

You rolled your eyes, “I can take care of myself, and I know you love me, but you can’t expect everyone to treat me like a princess all the time.”

Corbeau paused, his eyebrows furrowing, “I never told anyone to treat you like a princess.”

You smirked, “You most certainly did.”

“I did not.”

“Did.”

“Did not.”

“You told them to abandon a mission, any mission, if I get hurt.”

Corbeau’s cheeks burned at the reminder, but he cleared his throat, “That…applies to everyone. Not just you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, maybe- just maybe- I think you deserve better treatment than my employees, but can you blame me?” He asked, sliding his hand up to cradle your face, his warm, golden eyes locking onto yours, “You’re my princess.”

Now it was your turn to blush.