#fucking immaculate

Adjusting to Hisui had been daunting. It was a different region, a different culture, and even one hundred and some odd years in the past. It consistently felt more like an entirely different world rather than the same world, but an alternate timeline. Wild Pokémon are truly feral here. Very few of the modern comforts you knew exist yet, and the few that do are beyond vintage in form. You suppose that overall, life is simpler here, but it’s more ruthless and fragile. Tremendous dangers lay everywhere here and God himself thrust you into it. Arceus was confident you would conquer the circumstances, but you wonder why he was, it’s just so much. But there’s never time to process what happened to you. What is happening to you, or why. However, you’ve long since decided that the turmoil is worth it because it’s here in Hisui that you were reunited with your dear husband Ingo.

Every day you feel thankful that he’s alive. That he survived the journey through the rift, the subsequent fall from the sky, and the head injury he sustained. Even in your own time that could have easily left him paralyzed, disabled, comatose, or worse. Yes, his amnesia breaks your heart, but it’s a miracle he’s otherwise healthy.

It’s been a few months since your accident at Lord Electrode’s seat in the Moonview Arena. You shudder at the memory; yet that’s what made Ingo remember who you were. Which in time led to him remembering more and more about his life in Unova. His brother, parents, friends, and his career back home. The more he remembers, the stronger his determination grows, seeing the conviction in his eyes and how that burning desire bleeds into his actions fuels you. You’re unstoppable together. And no longer alone in your sorrows and moments of weakness. With one another as a source of hope, with your love as your deepest comfort, you two have made leaps and bounds in progress. Arceus above, how did you ever live without that man? How do manage the days and nights missions keep you away from him? This is rhetorical of course; letters are sent via messenger bird, and you know that if he’s not able to accompany you, Ingo will be waiting for you in the Highlands. It keeps you strong. Tomorrow, you’ll be leaving for Jubilife alone again, as you need to submit the work from your completed mission to Captain Cyllene while Ingo has been summoned to a meeting amongst the Pearl Clan Wardens. You just hope you won’t have to wait around in the village awhile before you get your next assignment. Not that the village has been bad to you thus far, quite the contrary, you just want to be in your husband’s presence.

You have a ritual of sorts for this circumstance. You join Ingo in his work with Lady Sneasler and her kits. Assisting him, doting on him in the slower times of the day, then you make and eat dinner together, silently enjoy the walk back to home, and cuddle. Whenever you have a moment alone, you’ll write him a love letter to leave behind in the hut, something sweet for him to find once you’re gone. He seems to enjoy them, always thanking you for your thoughtfulness with a blush, storing them away to keep. You wonder if he rereads them when you’re gone for longer periods of time, but you don’t feel the need to ask. After all, you’re confident enough that he does.

Your thoughts settle as you shift in your shared futon, snuggling into your husband, you melt into the warmth his body offers, and breathe in the woodsy scent that clings to him now. His heartbeat is in your ears, hypnotizing you, if only you weren’t confident that it was almost sunrise. You lay still, the first rays of morning light looming over your closed eyelids, the day’s begun. Ingo stirs, the deep inhale and the long yawn that follows confirms this. His grip tightens on you as he comes to. He whispers, “Dearest?”

You unbury yourself from his chest and move to meet his half open eyes, “Good morning, Hubby.” Ingo hides himself, bashfulness taking over. Your effect on him fills you with pride, but you decide not to lord it over him for now. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes dear, did you?” You hum in response to this, wanting to cling to the remaining drowsy comfort you feel just a little longer. “Good,” you can feel a small smile against your scalp. You smile widely. You should make the best of today. It shouldn’t be hard given you’ll be spending your day at a ravine with some adorable Pokémon.

You pat his shoulder blade a few times, “Let’s get the day started, shall we? I’m sure Lady Sneasler will be awake and waiting for us before long.” With a sigh, Ingo loosens his grip on you, so you can go about getting ready for the day. Though not without letting his hands linger on you while you move away from him. You know this poor man doesn’t want to let go. Once as you’re on your feet, you turn and offer him a hand to help him up. He accepts with a smile and a soft thank you. The hut gets cold in the mornings, but given it’ll be empty soon, there’s no point in coaxing the hearth fire back to life. Side by side you wipe your faces with a rag dampened in a pail of water. You both fill a mug with the same water, dipping your toothbrush in it before applying homemade toothpaste. When you’re satisfied, you rinse your mouths out with what remains in your rug and spit into the sink. You miss running water.

On top the dresser lays two piles of neatly folded daywear. You hand Ingo his pile and he turns from you to give you privacy like the gentleman he is. Unfortunately for him, you’ll be stealing glances the second he’s out of his nemaki. So, as you slip your underwear up to your hips, your eyes settle on his silver bedhead before working down. Standing upright and looping your arms through your bra straps before pulling the clasps together, you pass your gaze over a sturdy neck and scar-ridden broad shoulders. Two years bearing the unforgiving wilderness of Hisui changed your husband in a number of ways. For starters, he’s no longer the lanky man who waited for you at the foot of the alter, but a towering figure filled out with thick muscle. You slide on your trousers. Unfamiliar scars decorate his new physique. Callouses aren’t limited to the writer’s bump on his right hand anymore, leaving both of his gentle hand rough and ragged. You pull your kimono top shut, left over right, as per custom. You’d never complain about his hands, you enjoy the change in texture, but if you dwell on that now (and the defined line that runs down his back), you’ll not leave the cabin on schedule. You finish tying the obi.

Snapping back to reality, you notice a blush tinging his ears, he felt you staring. Though he wasn’t quick to hide his upper half from you, he did manage to pull on his slacks and belt them before you could blatantly stare at his ass. You smirk and finally give getting dressed your full attention. Unzipping your waist bag, you ensure you have the essentials plus a tasuki to hold your kimono sleeves back later. Everything is ready. Good. You fasten the belt over your obi similarly to how an obijime would be worn. Quickly, you comb your hair before pulling it back. Wrapping up, you hook the small cord that holds your pokeballs to your belt, slide on your socks and apply a moisturizing balm to your lips. Lastly, you smooth over your clothes. You’re ready. In the corner of your eyes, you can see Ingo is as well, wearing his Pearl Clan Tunic and conductor’s hat, putting his shoes on in the genkan. He’s no longer flushed when you join him. His eyes are soft when he hands you your haori, “Are you ready to depart, dearest,” he asks as you don the additional layer of cloth and tie it closed.

“Yep!” you chirp. Picking up one of two rucksacks from the floor. Ever chivalrous, Ingo holds the door open for you and lets you out first. He then exits and locks the door behind him.  He steps next you and offers you his arm, you interlock your own with his, eager for what comes next.

“Next stop: Lady Snealer’s den,” you feel a mouth splitting grin on your face while you prepare to say his catchphrase with him, “all aboard!” The poor birds are disturbed, but you’re filled with newfound motivation.

It takes about 15 minutes of brisk walking to reach the noble Pokémon’s residence when taking the shortcut. Sunlight draped the greenery and lit the entry. The closer you approach, the more movement and mewls you could hear coming from within. You easily recall the first time you were here. You were surprised by the distance between the Warden’s hut and the den. It was Irida who explained that even the line of noble Sneaslers preferred to have their personal space and privacy, hence the clearing around the hut would not do. The young clan leader also mentioned that it wasn’t uncommon for the Sneasels to play in the fields between during the day, effectively making the distance shorter, and that Ingo could cover the full distance in 6 minutes if he ran. It was through his fellow Wardens that you learned Ingo had made a habit of spending days at a time in the den, only going home if it was necessary, prior to you moving in. Needless to say, Ingo got a light scolding that evening and was sworn to take better care of himself from there on. Once inside you find Lady Sneasler laying on her side within her nest, head propped up on a clawed hand, nursing seven balls of fur. Fiery eyes open and glance over. She shuts them again and relaxes. It was only her Warden and his mate. Ingo steps forward, “Greetings, my lady, I trust you are well rested?” He kneels before her, silver eyes inspecting the little ones.

“Good morning, Lady Sneasler,” you add. She hums in response to you both.

The older kits, born last spring, must have heard you both as they came darting forth from the deeper within. They playfully pounce you and Ingo (careful not to cut you with their poisonous claws), rub against your legs, the most outgoing among them evening jumping into yours and his arms. You sit down to be surrounded by small, furry bundles of warmth. Soft giggles erupt from you, and you hear Ingo’s chuckle across the way. You’ve barely petted and greeted all the little Pokémon before a pitiful mewl steals your attention. Between you and their mother, a baby sneasel waddles towards you, milk dribbling from its chin. Briefly, you look to Lady Sneasler who smiles and nods, she’s okay with you interacting with the newborn. To her immediate right, Ingo is nuzzling the little one’s littermate as it chews on the brim of his hat. The sneasel kit is close enough to you now that you let them sniff your hand. The little thing remains interested in you so gingerly, you wipe the remaining milk off its face, and give it some head rubs. It leans in with a purr.

“Have you given these little guys nicknames yet?” you ask your husband. It was Melli who told you that Ingo had nicknamed every single sneasel kit he’s helped raise. Lady Sneasler rises, yawns and goes to where her basket lays. She’ll be ready to leave soon.

“I have yet to, I’m afraid,” your husband starts, “I wanted to observe each of them more and determine their natures before naming them. Furthermore, I was hoping you would help me.”

“You’re adorable, Ingo.”

“Dearest.” He chides.

You meet his sterling gaze, “I would be honored to help you name them. I’m sure we’ll both know much more about their individual personalities after their first bath,” you look down into the bright eyes of the kit you’re holding, “they all seem to be jolly natured as of now.” You rub your nose against the baby’s own.

“Gentle.” It was almost a whisper. You look back at him, head tilting inquisitively. Your husband shies away and clears his throat, “Your nature is gentle.” Heat blossoms in your cheeks yet you snicker.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Hm, perhaps I neglected the bigger picture, you do tend to be impish.” He teases. You set your kit down, giving them a final pet before crawling on your knees to where Ingo sets. You’re feeling inspired. He’s trying not to look at you disrespectfully and you know it. In turn, you’re struggling to keep a smug look off your face. You stop almost right in front of him. You snatch his hat. He jolts slightly, wide eyed like an owl and blinking slowly. Your neutral face cracks into a grin as you put the headwear on. It’s always been loose on you, but you love wearing it anyways. You could drown in the feeling of being his that it provides. It’s for the same reason that you steal his coat whenever you can too.

“Impish sounds about right. Though adamant and sassy are still on the table,” you wink and get on your feet, finally turn from him, “Lady Sneasler, would you like help gathering the kits?” They say never to turn your back on danger, but you think you can get away with having explicitly teased him one more time. Any more of this behavior is questionable though. That’s another thing that’s changed about him; he’s more decisive and authoritative than ever. It’s probably kept him alive. Nonetheless, you’re still debating on whether you want to commit to the consequences of further teasing. It’d curl your toes. It always does.

Elder Emo Anon

SWEET ALMIGHTY ABOVE YOU STILL GOT IT!😩😭🥺

Ingo sweet baby beloved-

I thank you for the early morning food.

I needed this before my early bday trip.