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Summary: Morty is concerned. Due to the spirits that surround his gym, Lyra struggles with nightmares.
Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.
Words: 1100
Notes: I wonder if there’s evil energies around Ghost-type gyms, or if Poison-type smell bad. Stuff like that.
Morty had always been somewhat of a light sleeper.
One foot in either realm as a safety precaution, mind clear and focused, incense and prayers to banish the evil spirits. Lessons that his grandparents instilled in him from an early age, as they regaled him with many, many stories of seers that could not find their way back from the other side.
When he felt Lyra toss and turn in the bed next to him, he woke up almost instantly. It is happening again.
He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, rubbing whatever sleep had been resting there away. With a heavy exhale, he pushed himself up on his forearms and turned to the woman beside him who was clutching on to the blankets with a vice grip.
He knew better than to wake up someone who was having such a nightmare, so he gently placed his fingers over her wrist as she held the blanket, breathed out a mantra and waited. The trembles stopped, and Morty held his breath as he waited for the inevitable moment when she woke up.
The brunette shot up in bed, a deep gasp rattling throughout her body as she released the blankets from her death grip. Her eyes frantically took in the bedroom around her as she realized she was not wherever her subconscious had taken her, but at the home of her boyfriend’s, lying in bed.
"Lyra?" Morty whispered as he slowly reached for the blankets clutched between her fingers.
"Morty!" She sobbed out as she released the fabric and tossed herself in his arms, tears soaking the collar of his shirt as she cried copiously and desperately.
He, himself, does not mind it too much. He is well-trained to deal with them, he almost welcomes them, as he then can lead those who are truly lost into a path of light. It is, however, challenging for regular people, who have not a lifetime dealing with those presences.
Many girlfriends he had before broke up with him because of that. Because of them. It wears them down slowly, as the lost hours of rest makes them irritable and his helplessness with the whole situation can grow irritating. Lyra, however, is steadfast in her resolution to conquer the ghosts, in an attempt to “love him whole”, or however she puts it.
As much as he admires and respects her for it, he cannot help but think that it might be for naught: as the weeks go by, it gets harder and harder to stand the nightmares. They grow worse and more terrible, and he does not know how to really help her overcome it.
Now, however, she is awake, and so Morty knows the routine. He wrapped her in his arms and let her cry it out. One palm on her back as she shook with her cries while the other smoothed over her messy hair as he hummed in her ear.
"It’s alright. I'm here. It was a nightmare. Do you remember what this one was about?" Morty muttered as he pulled her hair off the back of her sweaty neck, gently twisting it around his fingers.
"No. I just remember the feeling." She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath while she clutched at his t-shirt.
"Your heart is still racing." The blond gym leader replied softly as her heart thumped against his own chest.
Lyra pulled her head off of his shoulder and looked into his sleepy blue eyes, her own eyes still filled with tears. So sad, so scared.
His heart broke and he wished he could help. He has banished possessions before, and perhaps this could work in the same manner. Get inside her brain and make them stop, be the force between her and the evil spirits that lurked the darkness around his home.
"Thank you, Morty." The brunette whispered as she nuzzled her face back in the crease of his neck, holding onto his t-shirt with a looser grip.
He felt her eyelashes flutter against his skin and he knew she was starting to relax again.
"I've got you; I promise. Do you want a cup of tea or anything? I know sometimes that helps." Morty offered it softly, remembering that he had relaxing and sleep-inducing blends on the cupboard for this exact purpose.
Nevertheless, he continued to gently twist her hair around his fingers in an attempt to soothe her, hoping to keep her mind from whatever had plagued her dreams.
Lyra shook her head. "No, I'm going to be alright. I guess it's close to dawn by now anyways.”
The blond man shoots a look to his curtain-covered window. There it was, the first rays of sunlight sneaking from beneath the fabric. Despite them not really stick to landing, it has been a good night, if she only woke up now.
“Do you think you could just rub my back for a little bit? Before we actually get up for the day?" She asked as she snuggled further into him.
"Of course. Whatever you’d prefer." Morty nodded as he moved further into the bed once more, getting comfortable, and shifted her in his arms to keep her close against him, listening to his calm heartbeat.
He ran his fingers through her short hair as she rested her head on his chest, and he does not mind that his shirt was still soaked with her tears. He would change it in a little bit when she was asleep again.
Morty felt the flutter of her eyelashes slow down, her breathing even out, and her hold on his t-shirt loosen considerably. He waited a few moments until he was positive that Lyra is actually asleep before he gently slithered away from her weakening hold, moved out from under her body, covering her with the blankets once more and got out of bed.
He pulled off his t-shirt, stained with the girl’s tears then made his way downstairs to the kitchen. He decides that he will surprise her with a nice breakfast after her rough night.
Morty knows that he would never be able to free her from those nightmares, but he still wants her to be happy and safe. So, this sort of treat had to do, and he hopes that helps.
Nevertheless, they had higher hopes for the next night.
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Summary: Lyra is a slob when it comes to her clothes. Good thing Morty is there to lend her a hand. It may or may not devolve into kleptomania.
Rating: K+ - Suitable for more mature childen, 9 years and older, with minor action violence without serious injury. May contain mild coarse language. Should not contain any adult themes.
Words: 1800
Notes: Some cutey, unpretentious Folkloreshipping fluff. Eusine’s reaction is of free interpretation. Hope y’all enjoy it!
It was early November. The winter months were approaching and the Johto region was getting colder and colder, with cutting winds coming down from the mountains and torrential rain on the northern cities.
For that reason, on the last leg of the year, every sunny day was seized to its maximum. One such day was today, and Lyra had decided to spend it on a picnic for one on Lake Lucid, on the eastern end of Route 38. The nurses that cared for the place were out and about with their work, as the sun bended in an angle just right with the Bell Tower, framing it most beautifully.
The Champion pulled her thin, red sweater tighter around her lithe body, cursing her bad luck. She felt a nudge from her right and looked up to see her friend Morty looking down at her.
“Are you cold, Lyra?” He asked, his brow slightly furrowed.
The blond man rarely concerned himself with pleasantries these days, not with people whose company he enjoyed. It seemed standoffish, but the brunette found it endearing.
Lyra smiled as a greeting and nodded slowly, rubbing her arms for warmth.
“I should have listened to the weather forecast and brought an extra jumper.” She admitted, earning a smirk from Morty. “I thought I would be hot with the hike here, but no such luck.”
He began to remove his own jumper and she looked away quickly when his shirt rode up and displayed a sliver of porcelain, soft skin.
“Here.” He said, handing her the purple jumper he was wearing.
She thanked him and sent him a quick smile before pulling the sweater over her head. She breathed in the imbued scent, one that reminded her of the tiny flat he had behind his gym, and felt herself flush. The sweater smelled of the fine sandalwood incense he always used, mixed with rice wine, sacred ash and chrysanthemum flower.
It was absolutely intoxicating.
Lyra pulled her chocolate-coloured hair out of the back of the sweater before she pulled the sleeves over her hands and placed them in her lap.
Morty, in turn, leaned closer to her, an inquisitive and mildly concerned look on his face.
“Is there a reason you are blushing like that?” He asked, his voice calm like the surface of the lake.
If possible, she flushed darker.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Lyra answered, avoiding his gaze.
When you look closely at it, it was all the fault of Ecutreak City, with all its messy traps for her to humiliate herself in public. No fault of her own, really. Besides, of course, forgetting to return the pieces.
The Champion able to hide it well at first, only wearing his shirts in the comfort of her own home, but soon she could not help but begin wearing them to League casual engagements and out shopping in Goldenrod City, and now people were beginning to notice.
Will and Karen laughed amongst themselves anytime they met either Lyra or Morty, Jasmine and Bugsy smiled kindly at their interactions, and Pryce, Falkner and Clair rolled their eyes in derision over personal affairs taking precedence over important professional business.
Even Eusine had noticed!
It had been one afternoon, when she met the clueless man in Cianwood City to discuss the League purchasing an old Codex on Suicune that he wanted for himself, due to come up in auction at Wyndon City in the Spring. She was wearing a brown pullover, tied with a golden pin she had borrowed from the gym leader when her blouse ripped after an attack on National Park.
Eusine narrowed his eyes and locked aim on the pin.
“Is that Morty’s?” He asked coldly, with little regard to common curtsy.
She had only shrugged in response.
“Be careful with that.” The man barked derisively, as if he thought she would lose it on purpose. “It is an heirloom.”
She narrowed her eyes, she might be careless with her own clothing, but she was taking very good care of Morty’s. However, she elected not to make any comment, lest she was locked on a discussion with Eusine of all people the entire afternoon, and what a waste of a perfectly pleasant afternoon that would turn out to be.
However, unfortunately for the man, it was right then and there that Lyra decided that the League ought to buy the damn book, after all.
*_*_*_*_*
After the New Year’s, on another miserably rainy day in Ecutreak City, Lyra was at the Library, studying up on Imperial Law. She sat in a lone desk by the humming radiator, so engrossed in the subject on hand that she was oblivious to her surroundings.
Suddenly, a deep voice cut through her concentration.
“Would that be my old shirt?” Morty asked, looking curiously at her with his arms loosely crossed.
The Champion looked down at herself and panicked, remembering that she was, in fact, wearing his shirt, a blue and yellow long-sleeved model that hung loosely on top of her yoga pants.
She looked up at him, face flushed and her mouth open, unsure of how to explain herself.
“Uh, um… Yes?” She responded quietly.
Morty smirked, seemed rather pleased with the situation.
“And why exactly are she wearing my shirt?” He asked breezily, in intents to let the situation drag as much as he could.
She shrunk into herself, hoping that she would not drop dead from pure and unaltered embarrassment.
“It’s so comfy…” She mumbled, earning a rare throaty chuckle from the boy before her.
Lyra sighs.
“I’m really sorry, Morty. I’ll give it back tomorrow.” She reassured him, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.
The gym leader just shook his head.
“You should just keep it.” He said, raising his eyebrows and looking her up and down. “This shirt is very old, I bought back when I was fourteen. It was going to end up at the charity basket anyways. At least you’re putting it to good use.”
He, then, turned on his heels and headed down the labyrinthine rows of shelves, effectively leaving her in a puddle.
*_*_*_*_*
A few days later, Lyra was wearing the first piece of clothing she lent, the purple jumper, to a girls’ breakfast in Goldenrod City, revelling in its warmth and its general “Mortyness”.
She was laughing with Whitney about some stupid gym anecdote when she suddenly knocked over her glass of red berry juice.
It splashed down onto the table, droplets flying all over her. The jumper might have been a rich violet, but it was now covered in a multitude of dark stains. Her gaunt hand flew to her gaping mouth, guilt beginning to tighten its hold on her throat.
The Champion scrambled out of the restaurant with no words or even a plan about where to go and hoped that she could somehow salvage the sweater. On her way towards the Department Store, where she assumed she would find some miraculous stain remover, she ran into somebody’s chest.
Lyra looked up to see Morty looking down at her with concern shining through his eyes.
“Are you alright?” The blond gym leader asked, placing a hand on her waist to steady her.
The girl crossed her arms across herself in an attempt to hide the mess she had made. She nodded quickly and attempted to shoot past him.
“Yes, I’m fine.” She mumbled as she tried to free herself from his grasp.
Morty reached for her shoulder, putting a stop to her escape attempts.
“Hold on there, Lyra.” He commanded, his voice stern. “What happened? You seem very distressed.”
The Champion turned to face him slowly and she felt tears burning behind her eyes. She had not meant to ruin something of his, but the lack of intent did not make the guilt go away. She removed her arms from her body and showed him the dark stains that were across her front.
“I’m sorry…” She sniffled. “It’s berry juice. I ruined it.”
Lyra avoided his gaze, waiting for him to yell at she or get angry, but instead, Morty began to laugh.
“Don’t you think that you’re being dramatic?” He asked her with a chuckle.
She frowned.
“I am not dramatic! I feel guilty, that’s all.” She explained with a pout.
Morty leaned over and ruffled her hair.
“Don’t you worry, Lyra. We just have to find a dry cleaner’s.” The young man said calmly, as if nothing could ever bother him. “I am sure a good one will wash the juice right out.”
She flushed. Somehow, in her panic, she had forgotten that she could go to a dry cleaner’s, instead of trying to remove the stain herself, which she would never manage.
“I’m really sorry, Morty.” She said, embarrassedly. “I’m always asking to borrow your clothes and I can’t even take good care of them. I’ll pay for the cleaning, and a new sweater, too.”
The blond man held up a bag from the Department Store. “It is no trouble at all, Lyra. There are plenty of jumpers from where this one came from. I hold no special attachment to it.”
“But still…” The brunette bemoaned lightly, still feeling nervous about the whole situation. “At least let me return what I borrowed. At least let me return the pin you gave me, Eusine said it is an heirloom.”
“I really want you to keep it all.” He insisted. “To be honest, I find it flattering when you wear them. It makes me happier if you have them than it would getting it all back.”
Lyra blushed profusely. “Cheeky. I bet you say that to all the girls.”
Morty shook his head and chuckled. “Nope, only the cute ones who borrow my sweaters.”
Summary: Lyra is tasked with performing at the flower-viewing festival in Ecutreak, but gets stage fright and flees. Who better to rescue her than her co-star?
Rating: T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.
Words: 2000
Notes: The Tale of Genji is a Heian period text written by a courtly lady, one of the earliest surviving examples of literary pieces compiled by women. It is also frequently staged at Hanami festivals throughout the country, so that’s why I picked it.
The girl could hear shouting in the distance but knew it was only a matter of time before someone tracked her. Her heart pounded as she tried to find a good place to hide, but it was difficult with all the rain.
How in Lugia’s name did she get chosen to be the Paulownia Princess?
Every year, at the Hanami festival, the people is invited into the Imperial Garden, in Ecutreak City, to admire the flowers and the cherry trees blossoming on the other side of the tall walls. The main attraction, however, was the montage of the first chapter from The Tale of Genji. More specifically, the part between Kiritsubo and the Paulownia Princess.
It was the most coveted and scrutinized role in the Johto League, and it was performed by two high-ranking trainers in the prefecture. For years, Clair was the actress for the role, but she was recently wed and it would not be proper.
Before the Champion, Lyra, could even offer to any one of the gym leaders, the role fell upon her shoulders.
*_*_*_*_*
“It is proper that the Champion takes the role.” Agatha had said.
The old woman and former Elite Four had been striped of her position after Red refused to become the Champion, and rumour has it that she had strongly protested that move. That being said, she was still the oldest League trainer in the nation, and so she was inducted into an advisory role in the Plateau.
“But I don’t know how to act!” Lyra bemoaned. “Can’t Jasmine do it? Karen? Last I heard, Whitney wanted desperately the role!”
“Whitney is completely unsuited for such an honour, Jasmine is too timid and Karen is not a Johtonian.” Agatha dismissed nonchalantly her alternatives, waving the long sleeves of her white furisode. “This is an opportunity for you. Tales of your heroism and prowess runs through the land, but the Champion is also a ceremonial and political position and you are too young. You must prove to the people of the prefecture that you are also a capable lady and well-prepared for the eclectic duties that awaits you. Paulownia Princess included.”
“Lance wasn’t the Kirisubo when he was the Champion.” The younger trainer pointed out.
“Lance wasn’t the Champion. Not rightful, at least.” The old woman said, narrowing her eyes noticeably. “Not then, not ever.”
*_*_*_*_*
Lyra could not refuse. The Paulownia Princess was the manifestation of devoutness and duty, refusing to do it for personal reasons was at least an idiosyncrasy. Agatha had a point when she said that her position was fraught, and denying the role might just be what pushed her over the edge.
Besides, she was a Johtonian born and bred. She knew what an honour it was to be able to play the Paulownia Princess at the Imperial Garden was, she grew up watching those beautiful women dance and act on stage for the whole prefecture to see. She remembers, that little girl’s deep, sincere wish to be just like them.
She just could not give it up now. No matter how nervous she was.
However, now that she was dressed in costume and had her hair and make-up made, Lyra was running and hiding, hoping that whoever found her was an alright fellow. Or a fellow at all, and not some angry mommy Pidgey ready to peck her head to oblivion.
She could not do it. She really could not do it.
Hearing footsteps, the Champion broke into a sprint, not seeing where she was going as she slipped, tumbling down a large grassy hill.
*_*_*_*_*
Morty ran through the woods, his eyes narrowed as he tried to see through the dense Spring shower blowing through his hometown in the late afternoon before the Hanami festival that night, as was tradition. He was soaked and chilled to the bone, the stupidly ornate ritual clothes were hard to move on, but he refused to stop.
When he heard that Lyra was going to be the Paulownia Princess, he knew that he had to be her young Kiritsubo. This was finally his chance to get her to notice him as a person, and not just a mid-of-the-way gym leader and old legends nerd.
He had had a crush on the dainty, little League Champion since he spied her studying in the Imperial Library after their encounter with Eusine and the Legendary Dogs at the Burned Tower. She looked adorable with her twin ponytails tied back neatly as she focused on the book in front her, the nervous frown on her face as she read about Ghost-types, likely on preparation for their next encounter.
Lyra was the epitome of innocence. He wanted her.
Morty’s thoughts spurred him on. This was his chance, and he was not going to let the pouring rain stop him.
Luck was on his side, however, as Lyra was announced to become the Paulownia Princess this year and he was a shoo-in as Kiritsubo. With the possible exception of the Violet City gym leader, he is the most knowledgeable in traditions and laws of the nation, not to mention he is the strongest candidate. Bryce is a widower and Chuck is still married, Falkner is still new at their line of work and Bugsy is much too single-minded with his bugs to care about theatre and tradition.
So, he was naturally chosen for the role, and began practicing with admirable dedication. He was off to the performance of a lifetime.
Then, he finds out his lead actress has run away, and so he ran after her.
There was a strike of lightning and a clap of thunder, and Morty felt his blood begin to stir. It was hard to see in the pouring rain, but with the next bolt of lightning, he saw a figure.
He ran towards her, his feet slipping ever so often as he tried to catch up to the figure. His stomach dropped when he saw the person suddenly slip and fall down what appeared to be a hill. Morty quickly slid down the hill carefully, stopping at the bottom near the person.
“Are you all right?” He asked, looking for any sights of blood.
His eyes widened when he saw it was Lyra. The rich, layered kimono she was wearing ripped and was completely soaked through. It was not with difficulty that he could see that she wore nothing beneath it.
“Morty? What are you doing here?” She asked in disbelief. She took his offered hand and he helped her up. Then, on her feet, she realizes. “Oh.”
He looks over at her. Her lips are pulled, and she avoids his gaze.
“I’m sorry. I got nervous and had to run away like the immature girl I am. Now I ruined the play for everyone.” She said, feeling bad. “It’s almost sundown and our costumes are in shambles.”
He sighed. “We’ll find a replacement. I’m just glad that you are okay.”
“You shouldn’t. Not after you practiced so hard…” The brunette points out, dejected.
“I only practiced hard because I wanted you to see me play. If you were to be hurt or unavailable, then it would be all for naught.” He responded with ease.
“What?” She asks, surprised. “You don’t mean…?”
Morty grinned at her. “I’ve been waiting for you, Lyra.”
He saw the way she reacted to him saying her name. Her pupils dilated.
“Have you?” Lyra asked, slightly breathless. She had yet to let go of his large, calloused hand.
“Since you have left for Olivine City.” Morty whispered, stepping ever closer to her. “I’ve wanted you to come back. I’m sorry to say, I even rooted against you just so you’d be able to return sooner, but you succeeded in the League Challenge, even blossomed from it. I’m glad you did, because now I am able to gaze upon your ever brighter figure, and all of Johto will able to do, too, tonight.”
The rain continued to pour down on them, but he ignored it. All he could focus on was the beautiful young woman in front of him.
“That’s quite a long time.” Lyra replied. She smiled at him. “I had no idea.”
“I didn’t make any advances on you.” Morty said. “So how could you have known?”
“Your advances would have been welcomed,” she told him honestly.
Out of all the trainers that could have been the Kiritsubo, a part of her was glad it was Morty. He was a good and responsible young man, kind to the people of Ecutreak City, a patient and dutiful gym leader, not to mention very knowledgeable about history, art and culture.
“And now?” He asked.
Lyra smiled coyly at him. “I do believe you are my Emperor Kiritsubo, Morty.”
She closed the distance between them, her body humming as she pressed herself against him, and Morty smiled at her and she let out a small gasp. There was a strong flash of lightning coming down on Rainbow Tower, just across the river from them.
Lyra laughed from the jump scare of hers. “Why are we just standing here talking in the rain? We could find some shelter?”
Morty shook his head. “You have no idea how delectable you look right now, princess. I could ravage you right here on the spot.”
“Why don’t you?” Lyra asked cheekily.
Morty needed no other encouragement. He quickly closed the distance between them, his lips crashing into hers. He pressed against her, her wet garment doing nothing to hide her curves. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, his hands caressing her sides.
It was everything he had ever dreamed it would be. With a groan, he nipped her lower lip.
Lyra looked at him, eyes full of passion and longing, but as they sat down in the wet grass, a clap of thunder rung out and she gasped in surprise once more, killing the mood. She and Morty were quiet for a second before they both burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry. I scare too easily.” She said, shily. “I guess that’s why I waited for so much to challenge your gym.”
Morty chuckled as he lowered himself onto the grass as well. “How did you get into this play if you didn’t like it?”
“The storm only spurred me on.” Morty said huskily. “I was determined to be the one to find you. I was very concerned when I saw you dashing through the stairs and out the window. I thought you found the play revolting.”
Lyra’s eyes widened. “Oh, no! Not at all!”
He chuckled. “I’m glad. It would bust my romantic soliloquy otherwise, and then how else will I sweep you off your feet?”
“You practiced the soliloquy that much? Truly?” She asks, a smile gracing her face.
“Yes. I am completely dedicated to it. I want to want me.” Morty told her sincerely. He, then, smirked at her slightly, his arrogance showing. “And I always get what I want.”
Lyra laughed. “Well, I don’t know about always, but you got me to want you.”
Morty closed the distance between them once more, kissing, with their bodies slick from the rain.
As the rain stopped as quickly as it began, the gates to the Imperial Gardens were opened and the visitors were treated to a grand spectacle. In the end, though, the Emperor got to be with the princess.
