Chibi 720

Grisham   You’re not working today. < > Indeed I am not. > Now you have me worried, my dear friend - have you been having your grunts follow me around, Corbeau?  > You know how we feel about espionage and trade secrets, my friend.  You have a new barista. < > Ah - so you’ve met them.  > They’re rather charming, aren’t they?  You don’t take days off. Neither does Griselle. < > My, my. Is that concern I detect in the tone of your text, Corbeau? > I haven’t been able to take a day off since there hasn’t been anyone I could trust my café with in my absence.  > However, our apprentice is more than competent regarding both customer service and coffee - I have absolute faith in them. > I trust they treated you well?

PING!

Philippe > On my way, boss! Just had to make a pit stop.

“Good morning!” You cheerfully greet as your next patron steps up. He’s a tall fellow, nearly as big as the food truck you’re situated in - he’d have to duck to look in if your kiosk window weren’t so huge. His stature, build, and stern, steely gaze would have been more intimidating if it weren’t for the slight dusting of pink in his cheeks from both the morning air and his slightly flustered expression. He looked like a man that normally wouldn’t have a hair out of place (even with what little he had, styled into a unique mohawk), but this morning must not have been that kind to him, either; his jacket was skewed -having been incorrectly closed by one button -  his tie wasn’t even tied properly, and his lapel was off-center. 

Looks like it was a rough morning for a few folks in Lumiose, today. 

But that’s why you’re here, serving coffee and breakfast with a smile. Hopefully, you’d be able to make mornings just a little bit better. 

“Mornin’,” he greets in return with a slight nod of his head in acknowledgement. He eyes you in the way that a handful of your customers had - a flash of confusion that you were neither the man or woman that ran this truck and silent appraisal before continuing with his order. “Two large Burn Ups, please. And a box of croissants. Ah, the chocolate ones, if you have ‘em.”

Corbeau would absolutely kill Philippe if word got out, but the crime lord had an overwhelmingly strong sweet tooth. He’d deny it until the day he died, though. Pride.

“Certainly!” You chirp with a nod of your own as you start his order. “You’re in luck - there’s a fresh batch cooling right now! I’ll get your coffee first.”

The large man chuckles, letting out a short sigh of relief as he pulls out his wallet - only to notice his wardrobe mishaps and quickly go about fixing them with a sheepish grin. 

“You’re an angel, truly.”

That gets a small laugh from you as you absentmindedly go through your flow of making coffee. “I’ve been told that a couple times today - I don’t think I’ll get tired of hearing it.”

“Hey, it’s an important job. The good people of Lumiose would be lost without their caffeine - me ‘n boss included.”

You place the two large Burn Up Roasts on the counter and move to pack the fresh croissants into a box with care. 

“Treating your boss to a coffee, huh? What a nice gesture! I’m sure he’ll appreciate it.”

“Hah…you’ve got no clue.”

It’s obvious you were new - not just to Nouveau Café, but to Lumiose as a whole. Sure, Philippe wasn’t as infamous as Corbeau was, but the city still knew his name and face; it was no secret that he played a pretty big role in the Rust Syndicate as Corbeau’s right hand man. Even businesses he and the boss frequented would treat them differently, either out of fear of them or respect for their status. There were only a handful of businesses in Lumiose that didn’t.

Nouveau Café was one of them, sure, but in reality, it was really just Grisham and Griselle that treated Corbeau and Philippe like regular, run-of-the-mill citizens.

And now you, apparently. He distantly wondered how long it would take for that to change. You couldn’t have been here that long if you didn’t recognize him. You didn’t even seem to acknowledge the syndicate’s symbol on his Key Stone lapel. Hell, your other customers had given him too wide a berth to be usual social courtesy, forming a line for their orders at least ten feet away from him. Surely that had to give you some sort of indication that he wasn’t some normal schmuck out on his morning routine, right?

Eh. He couldn’t really be bothered to care about it right now. Or ever, really. Whether or not you ever learned who he was, who he worked for, and what they did was a you problem. It didn’t bother him as much as it had amused him. Plus, it was nice being treated normally for once.

He hands you a, frankly, ridiculous amount of cash for his purchase, insisting you keep the rest as a tip or save it for someone who couldn’t afford a drink (he wasn’t necessarily as close with Grisham and Griselle as Corbeau was, but he appreciated their philanthropic business model). He then gives you a grateful nod as he pulls the drink holder and the box of chocolate croissants from the counter. 

“Thanks, again,” and with that, he’s speed-walking off around the corner, equipped with bitter coffee and a stack of sweets to face the day. You wave him off before filing the money away and calling up your next customer. 

_____________________________________________________

Grisham (Boss Man!) > I heard an associate of mine stopped by this morning? > Stylish fellow with glasses and a purple undercut. > I do hope he didn’t cause you too much trouble. > He’s definitely an acquired taste. Oh! No, he was fine! < Well… < I mean, he was a little rude, but I was able to handle it! < > I see.  > Well, thank you for your patience with him. Had I known he was going to stop by today, I wouldn’t have left you to deal with him on your own. I apologize for that.  It’s really no trouble at all, Mr. Grisham. < But quit your worrying! You should be enjoying your day off! < I promise Dachsbun and I have everything under control here. (: < > I know you do. Thank you, my dear. Have a pleasant remainder of your day, as well. 

_____________________________________________________________

“Sorry I’m late, boss!” Philippe’s steps are quick and measured as he enters the office, cheeks dusted pink from the exertion of speed-walking here from whatever disaster his morning had supplied him. Corbeau dismisses him with a wave of his hand. 

“It’s fine,” the boss sighs, glasses pushed up onto his forehead so he could pinch the bridge of his nose. His eyes are squeezed shut tight as he tries to rub the migraine away.

Philippe knew Corbeau was a man of routine. Daily objectives were met in a certain order. Workdays were scheduled neatly weeks ahead of time and accounted for every contingency - early payments, late payments. Even new contractors and surprise deals and negotiations were prepared in advance. Corbeau made a point of not being taken by surprise. 

A single blip in his routine (for instance, the lack of coffee at home or Philippe running behind, himself) could and would ruin his whole day. 

Because of this, Philippe, ever attentive and dutiful, had anticipated today to be rough for both of them. Hence the peace offering/apology coffee and croissants. No doubt his mood would be worsened by the fact that the bastard refused to eat breakfast…

He goes to set his boss’ coffee order where it normally sits - the top right corner of his desk - only to find another identical to-go cup already occupying the spot. Ah. So he stopped by Nouveau Café on the way over, too. Well, another cup certainly wouldn’t hurt - he sets the second cup next to the first before placing the box of croissants on a nearby counter and plating one for Corbeau. He’ll eat it, eventually.

Scolipede, who was curled up by Corbeau’s desk when Philippe entered, now stood near the box of savory treats, giving Philippe the saddest eyes ever.

“Scolipede,” Corbeau chastises without even looking up from whatever paperwork he was busy with, “don’t beg. It’s unbecoming.”

The large bug lets out a whine and a huff, and with a low laugh of his own, Philippe opens the box to give the bug the coveted treat. Sweet tooth sated (once again), Scolipede scuttles back to his spot by Corbeau’s desk and curls up once more to munch on his snack (the third of the day, and it wasn’t even nine AM). Corbeau gives Philippe a tired look, silently condemning the act of indulging his ace, who’s already spoiled rotten. 

“Rough morning?” The right-hand asks, despite already knowing the answer. Corbeau just hums in reply, dragging his hand down his face, pausing when he sees the second Nouveau Café cup on his desk. He can’t help but let out a huff of a laugh as he acknowledges it.

“Thank you, Philippe. I needed that.” 

Philippe simply nods, returning the small smile before he takes a sip of his own drink…but instead of the usual Burn Up Roast that he’d swallow down quickly, however, he was met with the slightest twinge of sweetness. It was far from unpleasant - in fact, it sort of brought the drink together. It was a nice addition to the earthy flavor that the Burn Up had, balancing out the strong, smoky bitterness with just a dash of something lighter and airy.

His ‘refined palette,’ as Corbeau calls it, strikes again. Though, for some reason, whatever you put in there is slipping his mind. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it…and it’s absolutely going to bother him for the rest of the day. It definitely wasn’t anything native to Lumiose, that much was certain. Perhaps it was an ingredient that new barista brought from wherever they came from? Speaking of…

“So,” his boss’ voice interrupts him, “what do you think of the new hire? At Nouveau Café?”

“Them?” The right-hand shrugs. “They were nice. Efficient. Had a cute Dachsbun that seemed to really like ‘em.” He gestures to the croissant box with his chin. “Saw the sweet thing toss an extra one in there. Definitely new to Lumiose. Maybe new to Kalos, too.”

He glances at Corbeau from over the lid of his own drink. “Why?”

Corbeau hums again, finishing his first coffee and immediately moving onto the next. A content sigh leaves him as the warm drink hits his tongue and settles in his stomach - still empty, besides his previous coffee, which wasn’t food or breakfast no matter how much he insisted it was.

“Definitely new to Lumiose.” Corbeau tidies his already immaculate desk, tapping a stack of papers in line. “They gave me an earful this morning.”

Philippe can’t help the snort that leaves him at that - he quickly covers it with a cough at Corbeau’s sharp glance. “An earful? From them? The sweet little barista?”

“Yes,” Corbeau replies with a roll of his eyes. “Who else?”

Philippe lets his chuckle ring out this time, unfazed by his boss’ irritated stare. “Not laughin’ at you, boss. Just found it funny that that sweet lil’ thing had the gall to give you a talkin’ to.”

He brings his drink to his lips with another chuckle and a shake of his head. “New to Lumiose, indeed. Woulda paid to have seen that What’d’ya even do t’warrant that sort of back-talk?”

“...” Corbeau feels his cheeks warm slightly. He laces his fingers together and rests his chin on them, averting his gaze from his friend. “...I was…rather rude to them this morning.”

That gets a stern look from his friend and right-hand, somehow both admonishing and teasing. Philippe had always been a stickler for social etiquette - something Corbeau had always found amusing, given his background as Lumiose’s former local terror. But right now he’s hitting Corbeau with that ‘disappointed father’ look (despite the fact that he’s not much older than him) and the prideful syndicate leader refuses to face it. That would be the cherry on top of his rotten morning. He can already see it clearly in his mind’s eye, anyway. 

“I apologized to them, of course.” In his own way. Sort of. A decent tip is a good apology, right? In retrospect, it certainly could have been a more generous tip…“And, again, they gave me an earful, which I took with grace and humility.” Not right away, but he got there eventually, and that’s what counted, right?

“Sure,” Philippe huffs, crossing his burly arms. “‘Cause you’re known for taking things with grace and humility.”

Corbeau whips around at that, giving his friend a sharp glare, which is met with a nonplussed smirk and hands raised in faux surrender. “Just callin’ it like it is, boss.”

With a huff, Corbeau returns his focus to his paperwork…and his gaze drifts to his phone, sitting in its rightful place next to his laptop. He still hadn’t responded. He knew his lack of response was damning enough, and it was most likely the case that Grisham had already reached out to his apprentice about their…less-than-ideal encounter with the syndicate boss. As much as Corbeau would like to simply forget about the whole ordeal, though, he just can’t shake it from his mind. Especially now that Philippe is privy to his ‘bout of barbarism,’ which he would absolutely be lording over his head at any chance he gets. 

…Arceus, this…shame. What the hell was wrong with him? He was Corbeau, cutthroat leader of the Rust Syndicate; a man whose name was engraved into Lumiose’s very streets, into its streetlights that pulse with the heartbeat of the city - his city; a man whose reputation of ruthlessness preceded him, who people whispered about in both awe and fear, warning desperate, unfortunate souls about his merciless business practices.

Corbeau was a man of routine. He was a man who was put-together. He had an image to maintain. He didn’t have ‘temper tantrums’ - sure, he blew an occasional gasket, but those were (typically) justifiable, and they were most definitely not outbursts like the one he had today. When he lost his temper, it was typically at his contractors who failed to read the fine print and slandered his good name out of anger, who thought they stood a fighting chance against the syndicate’s morally dubious but technically entirely legal business practices.

Corbeau didn’t feel guilt at slighting or extorting others. 

…so why the hell was this bothering him so much?

He taps his fingers together, mindlessly following a rhythm even he didn’t completely understand. After a few moments of silent deliberation, he grabs his phone and opens his messages. 

Grisham Their service was adequate. <

He returns his phone to his desk before Grisham can respond - despite his hectic morning, he was still working. With the next steps in place, he was at least able to push the issue regarding you to the back of his mind to be dealt with later. He hated leaving things like that unattended - neither he nor the syndicate as a whole left loose ends.

His phone buzzes again, and he can’t help but take a peek.

Grisham > I’ll take that to mean they were exemplary, as expected. > I do hope the remainder of your day is less inconvenient than this morning.

Corbeau grumbles to himself and puts his phone away once more - he can hear the faint hum of the elevator, which meant their first appointment of the day was arriving…about ten minutes later than the scheduled nine o’clock. He feels a muscle in his jaw tick as his client strides in languidly, as though he hadn’t wasted ten precious minutes of this meeting. No, he’s completely unaware of how this will affect the rest of his tightly packed day, practically falling onto the couch across from Corbeau with an uncaring smirk - as if he wasn’t currently 500,000 Pokédollars in debt to the syndicate...

Corbeau didn’t necessarily believe in luck, but he gets an awful feeling that his dear friend Grisham cursed the remainder of his day rather than blessing it. 

___________________________________________________________

It’s just after 1 PM when he shows up again.

“Barista.”

While you’re not nearly as startled as you were this morning, you still jump at the sound of his voice, whirling around from where you were mid-preparation of your afternoon batch of sweets. Thankfully, you don’t yelp - you don’t need any more reason to be embarrassed.

“Oh! Hi! You’re back!”

Yeesh. You could tell why. He looked a mess - tired, drained eyes squinting as he pulls his hand away from rubbing them in the vain attempt to look more awake and present than he actually was. His tie was undone, hanging loosely over his business shirt, which was no longer neatly tucked into his pants. His tidy undercut was ruffled - likely the result of him running his hand through it in exasperation at least a dozen times. 

“...rough day?”

He barks out a dry laugh at that and cards his hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. “You’ve no idea.”

You hum and offer him a sympathetic look. “Another large, strong Burn Roast?”

“Please.”

“Any afternoon treats?”

“No, thank you. My team have yet to finish the macarons from this morning.”

You nod and get to work silently - you didn’t mind talking while you worked, but this particular fellow didn’t seem to be in the mood for conversation. Not that you’d really want to engage in small talk with him. Not after this morning. Your cheeks grow warm in embarrassment just thinking about it…at any rate, he seems to be in a better mood now. Or, at least, he’s too emotionally drained from today’s events to be a dick this time around. You won’t voice your gratitude for that out loud, though. Instead, you go about making his coffee, running on pure muscle memory–

“What is that?”

You pause, looking up at your exhausted customer who was glaring at the freshly brewed coffee in your hand. 

“Oh. Um. Your…coffee…?”

“You put something in it.”

Oh…oh! You look down to find your honey wand frozen mid-stir. You quickly pull it out of the pitch-black drink with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh! That! Right! Sorry - i-it was in your coffee this morning, so I just–”

“What is it?” He practically hisses, suspicion written plain as day on his face. Ah - right back to that rude demeanor. 

“I-it’s honey, sir! That’s all!”

“I don’t remember ordering honey in my coffee.”

Corbeau’s eyes narrow at the honey wand suspended over his coffee, exhaustion sharpening into suspicion. Around him, the atmosphere in the truck shifts — conversations hush, customers glance away, and even the cheerful hum of Lumiose’s afternoon seems to dull beneath the weight of his stare.

You, meanwhile, feel every ounce of your newfound, budding confidence threatening to shrivel under the pressure.

“A-as I was saying, sir, i-it was in your coffee this morning, as well, s-so I just figured, y’know, it was, um, fine. This time. Too. Th-that’s just how I prepare my coffees, sir!”

By this point, a few other customers warily glance up, watching the spectacle unfold with caution - some look ready to up and leave at the first sign of confrontation. Dachsbun peeks over the counter edge again, letting out an irritated huff on your behalf.

“Was it not to your liking…?”

“...no,” he eventually sighs, leaning back to adjust his glasses that had slipped down his nose. “I enjoyed the coffee. I’m just…”

He inhales deeply and exhales a ragged sigh. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind. It’s honestly nothing for me to get worked up about. I did very much enjoy the coffee from this morning, hence why I’m back for another. I apologize.”

“I-I’m sorry, too - I thought I disclosed that this morning but I guess it, ah…escaped me.”

Corbeau purses his lips at the reminder of the morning’s events, having the decency to at least look a little ashamed. 

“Yes, I, ah…apologize about that, as well. Such behavior was unbecoming of me.”

“O-oh? Ah. You’re okay, sir. I promise.” You shrug with a smile. Dachsbun does not share your sentiment, huffing once more. You tactfully ignore him. “Happens to the best of us, right?”

That gets a small, tired smile from your customer who nods, taking the to-go cup you hand him. “Sure. The best of us.”

He pays you as he did this morning, leaving an even more generous tip. He nods, signalling his departure with another tight-lipped, tired, polite smile. You wave him off, blissfully unaware of the tension leaving the café’s grounds with every step that leads him back to his office. Your customers seem to let out a collective sigh of relief - they’re probably just as glad as you that no serious confrontation broke out. Lumiose seems like a city that likes its peace, something you’re more than grateful for.

Despite the many busy lives of the many different people, there was no sense of urgency like there was in Castellia. Unlike the bustling, crowded streets of Castellia, Lumiose’s streets were meant for strolling, sightseeing, enjoying being where you are and who you’re with. In Castellia (and similarly its neighboring city, Nimbasa), you could get told off in a very loud and public manner for brushing by someone - Hell, you’ve been berated for trying to greet someone before. The people of Lumiose, however, are far more warm and welcoming. Sure, you’ve run into the occasional jerk like your previous customer (you hope his day goes better from here, since, apparently, the morning continued not to be kind to him), but they’re few and far between and often are just stressed out. 

No, all in all, even with a day like today (which honestly wasn’t even that bad), Lumiose was leagues above Castellia. Every customer that greeted you with a friendly smile and left a nice tip to buy a coffee for someone else made you feel better and better about your decision to up and leave that horrible life in Castellia and establish a place for you where you could be truly, truly happy. Like this is your new home and you are making a new life for yourself. A life where you would eventually be your own boss and you weren’t completely bossed about by a silly old (sometimes debilitating) condition!

…again, baby steps! You’d get there, eventually. 

Eventually. Eventually, eventually, eventually. It was your current mantra - the internal chant that kept you going, striving towards the life you’ve been dreaming about for years.

But, for now, you had to navigate the perilous waters of standing your ground against grouchy customers who seemed to forget that you, the person providing goods and services for them, were human, too. Such a sea was choppy and rocky at times, but with Grisham’s help and encouragement (and seemingly endless patience), you were starting to develop your metaphorical sea-legs. Just wait until he heard exactly how you stood your ground to that first customer today without even flinching!...though maybe you’d play down your near anxiety-attack that came afterwards. Hopefully he isn’t too upset that you basically told off his friend…he didn’t seem angry when he texted you, but you know Grisham is just a very outwardly calm individual, he could just be very, very quietly angry and when he comes back, he’s going to fire you and refuse to be a resource for any business endeavors that you’ll have to make alone with only a week of apprenticeship under your belt–

Dachsbun barks and tugs at the hem of your pants, snapping you out of your thoughts before they can spiral more. You exhale a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding and lean down to pet the sugary pooch with a relieved smile.

“Thanks, bud. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” His reciprocal yip echoes out into the small courtyard, and a few patrons laugh in camaraderie with his obvious joy. An older woman approaches the kiosk and holds up her hand as you go to ask for her order. 

“No need dearie - I don’t want to order anything else. I just wanted to commend you for standing your ground against that brute.”

You blink twice in surprise. Brute? Sure, his decorum was less than pleasant, but you wouldn’t call him a brute by any means.

The confusion must have shown on your face. “Oh, dear…you must be new to Lumiose.”

It wasn’t a question.

“A-ah…yes, I am.”

“That would explain it.” The older woman shakes her head. “Just stay away from types like those, okay?”

“Ah…um. Sure. Yes, I can do that.”

She walks away, satisfied, and without explaining a lick of what she meant. Perhaps it was just the classic ‘older generation doesn’t like the young punks’ thing. He did sort of have a punkish vibe about him. Nothing like the punks in Unova, though. Perhaps his genre was just the ‘regional variant’ of punk. The silly thought makes you smile.

You brush the interaction off and call the next customer forward.

The rest of your day goes by quickly - a steady stream of pleasant customers and easy small-talk that gradually and gently drains your body of your social anxiety. A few even compliment your handmade pastries, remarking that they hope Grisham adds them to the menu permanently - which never fails to elicit a surge of bashful pride in you. A handful of older customers are able to clock your small bouts of anxiety and let you know you’re doing a wonderful job. All in all, it’s a great day!

The distant electronic vwwoosh of the Battle Royale’s barriers signals the end of the day. The heavy ker-chunk! of your key in the lock is accompanied by the city-wide chime to alert trainers that the nightly Royale has officially begun. There were some leftover pastries from the day’s sale, so you pack them in a box to take with you - Grisham insists there should be no such thing as wasted food. He’s sent you home with treats before, encouraging you to hand them out on the way home to any one who ‘just looked like they needed it.’ 

Easier said than done in a city of strangers, but it’s been a good exercise for you to come out of your shell and start stepping into your new life.

Tonight was your first time heading back home this late, but luckily, the way back to the hotel is generally clear of the battle zones. You’re far too cautious to get caught in the middle of one - ever since Grisham told you about them, you’ve been developing a mental map of the usual locations so that you’ll never get caught by surprise. After all, the only Pokémon you regularly had with you was Dachsbun, and he was a service-mon! You didn’t really even know what moves he could use, let alone any sort of strategy that would keep him safe. 

Yeah, you knew battling would result in getting hurt regardless - that’s just how battles worked! 

And that’s exactly why you chose to avoid them. You couldn’t stand the sight of your little buddy hurt! To throw him into a situation that will end up in him inevitably getting hurt just seems like an insult, especially after all the hard work he’s done keeping you safe over the years. No, you prefer to keep Pokémon battling as background noise for your peaceful walk back home.

‘Home’ right now certainly isn’t what you pictured it being when you got the idea to move out to Lumiose, but it was what you had for now. And it really wasn’t a horrible place to temporarily call your home. 

You smile up at Hotel Z as you approach the old building. 

“Good evening, gentil,” the towering AZ greets as you step through the threshold. Even though he’s trying to be quiet, his deep, booming voice still fills the lobby easily. “How was your first day on your own?”

“Good evening, Zed,” you greet in return. Dachsbun barks his own hello as the two of you walk up to the counter, where you place your still-full box of treats - you hadn’t run into anyone on the way back, after all. At least you knew the kids would enjoy them. “It actually went really great! Nothing caught on fire or exploded, and I didn’t die of embarrassment!”

He chuckles along with your joke, a proud, gentle smile on his face. Ever since you stepped foot in his beautiful hotel, AZ had become something of a grand-father to you. He warmly welcomed you into his little family, introducing you to the rascally teens that formed Team MZ who also stayed in the hotel. They all had their reasons to be here, but you weren’t one to pry into other people’s business. The teens were fairly open, though, and welcomed you with as much (if not more) excitement than AZ. 

They were good kids. Nice kids. But you were definitely closer with AZ than with any of them. Team MZ already had its established dynamics, and you certainly didn’t want to butt into anything, even if they invited you along…

No, you’d much rather hang out with AZ and hear about their adventures instead of living them. It was safer that way.

It could also be incredibly more boring but…yeah. Safer. 

Besides, you did technically have your role in the group. You were their unofficially official Team Chef!

You don’t think words could express the relief on Naveen’s face when the twins stepped down and conceded the title to you. To this day, you have never had their ‘croissant curry.’ Naveen seems to have made it his priority to ensure you never do.

It was a delight baking for them, really. Their little faces always lit up when they stumbled in from taming yet another Rogue Mega Evolution (talk about picking the wrong time to move to Lumiose) or the Royale and the scent of fresh baked croissants or choux or cookies or whatever you had decided to whip up for them that day sat warm and ready to eat on the table. It was a treat for you in and of itself to provide sweet treats for the hard-working team.

“That’s wonderful to hear, gentil,” AZ remarks with a hum. Floette chirrups beside him, twirling her flower by its stem in agreement. “I’m glad your first day alone went well. Floette and I were thinking about you.”

Ah, they really were too sweet. 

“Aw, thanks, guys,” you beam back up at them. “I appreciate it. I’m feeling a lot more confident after today.”

Your ‘a lot more confident’ looked very different than most, but you were trying to be kind to yourself. Baby steps! 

AZ knew of your condition. It’s not something you publicly express, and AZ never pressed - he just…sort of found out naturally. He had gone out with you one day to get more baking supplies (those kids certainly worked up some big appetites with all the battling they did) and just…watched Dachsbun go about his job. The Fairy type would stand behind you in lines, eyes on the market behind you to help mitigate paranoia. At one point, you began hyperventilating, murmuring something about it being ‘too crowded’, and Dachsbun quickly and safely herded you to the nearest exit and subsequent open space. After returning to Hotel Z, he would go in ahead of you to perform a ‘safety check,’ reassuring you that nothing had changed before you entered. 

AZ’s only comment was that Dachsbun was a remarkable companion to perform such feats for you. When you went to explain, he held up his hand with a smile, wordlessly dismissing the matter. It wasn’t his business, after all.

You really appreciated that about AZ.

“It was a pretty full day, though - I’m gonna hit the hay a little early. If you see the team, let them know to have as many of those leftovers as they want.” You barely stifle a yawn as you turn to the elevator, giving AZ and Floette a tired wave and smile as the hum of the somehow-functioning elevator fills the air.

It really was a good day. You’re still smiling as you and Dachsbun enter your room. AZ refuses to let you pay for it, insisting that keeping Team MZ happy and fed was payment enough.

…come to think about it, you’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him handle money. Does he even charge for these rooms? The twins seemed to be much more business-oriented with the hotel, wanting to turn it into the next Hotel Richissime, but AZ seems perfectly content with it just being a place for wanderers to find refuge for however long they need it.

…you should really make him a thank you treat sometime soon. 

Dachsbun jumps on your bed and makes himself comfortable right next to your pillow before you’re even finished getting ready, as he always does. His fluffy tail wags like crazy when you finally move to settle beneath the sheets. He gives you his routine ‘goodnight’ kiss, leaving a faint sticky trail of sweetness on your cheek. You laugh, bid him ‘goodnight’ as well, and turn off the light.

Yeah. Today was a great day. 

And you’re gonna make tomorrow even better.

______________________________________________________

Corbeau huffs to himself as he stares up at the old hotel. So, this is where those Team MZ brats were staying. It wasn’t too shabby - he appreciated the antique charm of it. That being said, he wouldn’t normally spend the night here - he had an entire, spacious apartment to himself and his team, after all - but a deal was a deal. Those kids did everything he asked of them, and he was more than happy to erase the accrued interest…but that still left the issue of the original loan, which hadn’t had a cent paid toward it. 

Someday they’ll learn about financial responsibility and whatnot. And maybe also not to trust loans from established businesses with ‘syndicate’ in the title. 

He steps through the threshold precisely at 9 PM.

“Hello, hello!” He calls into the empty lobby. The only other person present was the old man towering over…well, everything behind the check-in counter. He greets him with a nod and leans forward slightly just to peak into the rest of the room…just as empty as the foyer. “Anyone here?”

He hears the bumps and scrapes of people quickly shuffling out of chairs and the hushed whispers of the notorious Team MZ coming from what was most likely the dining room - it really was a quaint little place. 

He straightens his tie as the teens come stumbling in; first Urbain and Taunie, practically tripping over each other to be the one to greet their guest, then Lida (who nearly trips over the twins, as well), and finally Naveen, who looked like he would rather be literally anywhere else in the world right now. The group freezes when they see him - it’s a little funny how quickly they turn into complete statues.

“So this is Hotel Z, eh? Not bad at all.” And it was true - given its age, it was well kept and had a unique charm about it. After all, Corbeau was many things, but he took pride in honesty.

“Wh-what are YOU doing here?!” Lida asks, eyes wide in terror. “Oh, no - are you gonna have the whole Rust Syndicate battling Pokémon here, like you said?! Please don’t!”

We just need a little more time!” Urbain states, followed by Taunie’s “We’ll pay off our whole debt tomorrow!”

Her twin shoots her a sharp look at the frankly impossible promise. She swats his elbow. He nudges her back with his shoulder. Corbeau rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. And don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Corbeau scoffs, walking further into the foyer. “This is a hotel, isn’t it? What do you think I’m here for?”

He crosses his arms, glaring at the teens. “Or what? Is Hotel Z too fancy for the likes of me?”

A moment of silence passes over the group as they process his words…until finally–

“I-if you’d like a room, we’d be happy to get you checked in, sir!” Urbain all but yells, nerves clearly setting him on edge. “Hah, uh, f-follow me, please!”

He shoves his twin sister off of him (leaving her to find her own footing with Lida) and leads Corbeau to the front desk. His smile is all teeth, tight and nervous.

“...kid, if this is your normal way to greet patrons, it’s no wonder your hotel doesn’t get any guests.”

Before Urbain can protest, Corbeau looks up at the man behind the counter - oddly enough, the old man’s towering height somehow made him feel less small. Perhaps it was just the fact that AZ made everyone feel small. “...y’know, old man - word on the street is you’re three thousand years old.”

AZ doesn’t even bat an eye, “If you would please put your name down.”

Corbeau smirks - straight to business. He could respect that.

“Of course. Give me your best room, please.”

As he goes to fill in his information in the guest book, AZ continues, “Oh, and please, help yourself to as many complimentary treats as you wish.”

He gestures to the right of the guest book where a miscellaneous assortment of treats sits neatly compiled on a tray. Sweet, baked goods. All of them.

…damn his sweet tooth.

“...very well. Though I hope you know these are only for my Pokémon.” Scratch that bit about ‘pride in honesty’ - his reputation comes first in situations like this. 

It really wouldn’t be such a horrible thing to be known for…if he weren’t already regarded as a hardened, ruthless crime lord. Infamous underworld leaders didn’t have sweet tooths. 

Taunie comes up with a white paper bag for him to put his desired treats into (at least seven - one for him and each of his Pokémon, who were truly getting spoiled today) and gestures to the elevator with an open palm. 

“You’ll find the elevator right over here, sir,” she looks like she’s debating whether or not to bow, as well. Corbeau barely suppresses a smirk at her nervous display and waves a dismissive hand as he walks past her. 

“It’s time for me to retire,” he announces as he enters the elevator. “A pleasant evening to you all.”

Once the doors close, he sighs, bringing a hand up to rub his temple. Today had been far too hectic. All those clients either blabbering on and on about their personal lives or blubbering that the terms they explicitly agreed to upon signing a Syndicate contract were unfair. His grunts seemed to be causing trouble again (who the hell deigns it a sacred mission to guard a holovator???) and needed a stern talking to as a group to remind them what the Syndicate stood for - it suited other gang leaders just fine, but he wouldn’t have his business being known for being miscreants and hooligans. It’s almost hilarious how a single change in his routine could snowball into such an exhausting day. All of this grief, exacerbated simply because he hadn’t had his routine coffee–

The elevator stops, syncing up perfectly with the sudden dread that washed over him.

He hadn’t restocked his personal supply of coffee. He and Philippe were too busy with more important syndicate matters to bother. He hadn’t even remembered it until just then. 

Even if he did remember to restock his personal coffee stash, it wouldn’t have mattered. He hadn’t even thought about coffee at all when booking the night here, far too focused on getting a room and being done with this little debt with the brats. 

He can feel another headache coming on. 

Once inside the safety of his cozy hotel room, he pushes his glasses up to his forehead and groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Corbeau wasn’t one to let his emotions show.

He had clawed his way from the depths by forgetting that part of himself. After all, his feelings had never brought him any good. 

That is, until you came around.

Team MZ’s secret weapon had left their imprint on the entirety of Lumiose. After all, they had saved the city from utter ruin, and they had brought about the Mega-Evolution of the city that Quasartico had failed to deliver.

They had made it look so simple.

They had become so powerful so quickly. They had quickly assembled their core team, propelling to the front of the ZA royale, seemingly without trying. It almost looked effortless for them.

Almost.

But, everyone had cracks in their foundation.

And yours were starting to show.

The Rust Syndicate’s office was the one place you could get away from the public eye: away from nosy reporters, adoring fans, and battle-hungry competitors.

At first, Corbeau had been apathetic to your presence. Most of the time, you sat in his office, scrolling on your phone.

It was nice to find some quiet, you had said. Not even Hotel Z was safe anymore. Your victory had been amazing for business.

Corbeau could certainly understand wanting to be free from the public eye.

Recently, your visits to his office had become more frequent.

Corbeau couldn’t tell if you actually enjoyed his company, or if you just wanted quiet.

One stormy afternoon, you trudged into Corbeau’s office, not even bothering to wipe the rain from your boots. Groaning, you flopped onto one of the couches. “Why did you let me become the hero of Lumiose?”

“Hello to you, too.” He said, chuckling. 

“I can’t go anywhere anymore without being swarmed. Even Canari said it was bad.”

“I could easily get you a security detail.” Corbeau straightened a stack of papers. “I have plenty of grunts that would keep the people away.”

“No,” You sighed. “I don’t want them to be scared of me.”

“Fear is a powerful tactic.” He said. 

“For you.” 

“For me.” He smirked. 

“I just wish…” You trailed off. 

Corbeau raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m still glad I did it. I always will be. But I wish people will understand that I’m just… I’m just a normal person, you know?” You sat up, looking at Corbeau. “How do you cope with the fact that you won’t ever be seen as just… a guy?”

“Because that’s not how I want to be seen.” He stood from his desk. “I worked for years to build my reputation. Normal is not a word that can describe people like us.” He sat down next to you. 

“I wish it was.” 

“Normal isn’t meant for who we are. We’re great.” He said. “And greatness can inspire love, or it can bring fear. Clearly, you and I are on different sides of the spectrum.”

“We don’t have to be.” You said. “You’re a good guy, Corbeau. Even if you insist you’re not.”

Corbeau chuckled. “You keep saying that.”

“Would a bad guy let me interrupt his work all the time to get away?”

“He would if he had ulterior motives.” Corbeau said. “Much can be gained from offering a reprieve.”

“Do you have ulterior motives with me?” You asked.

Corbeau smirked. “You tell me.”

You looked away from him, the blush growing on your cheeks. 

“I was serious about the security detail.” He said. “I’ll go with you myself, if I have to.”

“I told you, I don’t need that.” You sighed. “I just… need to convince them I’m a normal person.”

“You’re not a normal person. You’re—“

“If you call me the hero of Lumiose, I’m sending all my Pokemon out and telling them to hit you.”

“I was going to say that you’re incredible.” 

You fell silent.

“The way you fight, the way you move, the way you strategize… You’re remarkable. So, don’t go around saying you’re normal.” He smirked, his gaze lingering on you. Suddenly, he stood from the couch, walked over to his desk, and slammed his laptop shut. “Now. I’ve been meaning to go over to the Sushi High Roller to try out their seasonal menu… what do you say we blow this joint?”

“That depends… are you paying?” 

Corbeau chuckled. “But of course— anything for the hero of Lumiose.” He said, extending a hand.

• definitely records you giving him head (but only for himself)

• likes when you wear his clothes during it

• he’s a big fan of missionary or classic cowgirl to watch your expressions

• likes when you get jealous about his fan base so he can re assure you in the bedroom that he’s all yours

• loud groaner and moaner, genuinely cannot shut up to save his life

• super into mutual praise

author’s notes: HAPPY PRIDEEEEEEE! *trixie and katya voice* hi, gay! sashay into fics today!

what better way to kick off pride month than with Shane/male reader? come onnnnn, that's my husband, y'all. GODDDDDD.

Ok. Ok. This is Shane/Reader focused, established relationship. The reader’s pronouns are he/him; he has tattoos and he’s written to have gained some muscle from farming, otherwise physical descriptions aren’t used. Race is ambiguous.

There's some Elliott bashing in this one. I’m going to be real, I just don’t like him at all. I think he’s my least favorite villager lmfao.

The title of this fic is from jealousy, jealousy by Olivia Rodrigo, because DUH.

Warnings: mentions of alcoholism and recovery.

Shane’s frequently reminded of one thing when he’s dating you: You’re a hot commodity around Pelican Town. It’s almost ridiculous, really. He feels like he’s fighting for your attention, and even though he knows he has it… Sometimes, it’s difficult to recognize. You’re an integral part of the town now, with your farm at the center of its economy. Your crops are sold in Pierre’s frequently, and the villagers are always asking you for help with small and big tasks alike. Shane can hardly blame you for being helpful. It’s more just… his own doubts. 

You’re so good to him, he can’t deny it. And he knows you’ve been trying your best to maintain boundaries and only take on requests that are truly necessary, but still. You already fixed the community center, you revitalized the town’s economy, you fixed the buses… Shane would think there’s nothing left for you to fix. But alas. You’re constantly working. He can’t remember the last time you’ve had a full day off, between tending to your crops, caring for the animals—which he makes sure to help with, now that you live together—mining, fishing, foraging… It’s an endless list.

It’s not surprising that Harvey, the town doctor, is somewhat insistent on you getting an annual check-up. Shane knows you have a more specialized practitioner back in the city for your health issues, but it makes sense that Harvey would want to give a general exam. You’re working very hard on the farm, after all. Shane has seen it. 

This is how Shane finds himself sitting in the chair next to the exam bed, watching as Harvey runs through your vitals. The doctor is a bit concerned with your heart rate, but at your simple explanation (“Caffeine”), he seems to relax. Harvey asks how much activity you’re doing each day. You answer. It’s an underestimation, as always. Harvey looks to him for confirmation. 

“He’s always running around,” Shane says wryly, ignoring your faux-betrayed look. “So whatever he says he’s doing, just double it.” 

You huff but don’t object any further. Harvey seems to be hiding a smile as he makes a few more notes in his clipboard. He proceeds to do various tests, waving a flashlight in front of your eyes, testing your reflexes. 

“I’m going to check your lungs now,” Harvey explains, paying a haphazard glance at your clothing. “It may be hard to read through your sweatshirt, but I’ll try and then see.” 

Shane sits there, watching as Harvey tries and fails to get an accurate reading through the sweatshirt. “Yeah, the fabric’s a bit thick,” he frowns, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Can you lift it up for me?” 

You do as requested, pulling at the back of your sweatshirt so he can place the stethoscope against your back. You immediately wince at the cold temperature of it. 

“Sorry,” Harvey says with a helpless smile. He’s quiet for a few moments. “Much better,” he nods. “Breathe in for me… Good. Breathe out… Good.”

This process continues for a few moments, before he’s moving to stand in front of you and doing the same thing. Shane can tell you’re trying to breathe normally, but of course, it’s difficult to feel normal when you’re being monitored in close proximity. You give him a helpless grimace and he laughs under his breath. 

“Everything looks great,” Harvey announces with a friendly smile, sneaking his hand out of your sweatshirt and removing the earpieces of the stethoscope from his ears. You don’t seem to notice the pink dusting his cheeks, but Shane absolutely does. He frowns a bit but keeps quiet. 

“Thanks, Harvey,” you answer, adjusting your sweatshirt a bit before getting to your feet and stretching. 

“Of course,” he responds, guiding both of you out of the room and back into the lobby. “You two take care.” 

“You too,” Shane answers. You echo a similar sentiment, and the two of you leave to return to the farm. 

Shane is heading back from the blacksmith a few days later—he promised to get these geodes inspected for you, while you wanted to ask Lewis about something—when he spots you in front of George and Evelyn’s house. He heads over habitually, only to find you mid-conversation with Alex. 

“You’re getting swole, dude,” Alex says with a grin, spinning a football on his finger before tucking it under his arm. 

“Hardly,” you huff, looking askance. Shane’s eyes narrow. 

“You’re getting some muscle, for real!” he adds, looking you up and down. Shane frowns. Alex grins. “Must be all that farming.”

“Yeah, that and mining, honestly,” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. This movement does draw Shane’s eyes to your forearms, and he looks away quickly. Then, you’re his boyfriend. He can look if he wants. Alex, on the other hand… He’s getting a bit too comfortable. 

“Hey, Shane,” Alex says, looking over at him as he approaches. 

“Hey,” Shane manages to say gruffly.

You turn, brightening. “Hi,” you say with a fond smile. 

“Hi,” he responds, like an idiot.  

“He’s getting some gains!” Alex nods at you, arms crossing over his chest as he lets the football rest in the grass. “We should lift sometime, the three of us.” 

While Shane is grateful to be included, the prospect makes him want to vomit. You look similarly disinterested. “Eugh, please no,” you say in disgust. “I hate lifting. It’s so boring.”

Alex stares at you for a long moment, his systems malfunctioning at the thought of someone not liking weightlifting. Then he shakes his head. “Dude, you’re a lost cause,” he jokes. 

“Remind me who’s putting dinner on your table?” you tease. Shane chokes on a laugh. That’s very true: between your crops and your catches from the ocean, you’re feeding the majority of the town. 

And Alex knows it, because he huffs and raises his hands in mock-surrender. “Oof, point taken,” he says. “Get outta here.” He shoos at you jokingly. You both bid him goodbye before heading back to the farm. 

“You realize Alex was ogling you,” Shane remarks somewhat dryly, not trusting himself to say more. Those older feelings of inadequacy and insecurity start to prickle up his skin. 

“He was not,” you respond habitually. A beat. You glance over at him. “...Right?” 

“If you say so,” Shane says, unconvinced. He’s not the reigning authority on these things, but Alex was staring at you for an awfully long time. And there’s a limit to how far ‘bromance’ stretches. The thought of him and you doing some stupid exercise thing, just the two of you… It makes him want to be sick. Though he reminds himself you didn’t even seem interested. 

And when your hand meets Shane’s, your fingers tangling together, he feels marginally better.

Shane and you are sitting on the red sofa in the far area of the saloon, the arcade games beeping and buzzing unhappily in their neglect. Sebastian and Sam just finished their game of pool, with Sebastian winning against Sam yet again. Abigail sits on the far side of the blue sofa across from them, giving you both a smile. 

You were talking to her for a bit, but Sebastian is soon sitting next to her and engaging you in conversation. Shane isn’t super close with the guy, but he likes him well enough. He does notice that his eyes find your arm and seems to linger there for a few seconds. 

“New tattoo?” Sebastian asks. Shane follows his gaze, finding the tattoo you just got this past weekend. It’s still wrapped in the saniderm, since it’s only Wednesday. You were complaining earlier that it was decently itchy, before slapping your arm a few times. Shane had been extremely confused, and you explained that you couldn’t itch it, since the skin was still dry and healing, hence the hitting… 

And he just burst out laughing. You weren’t pleased, scowling at him for all of two seconds before begrudgingly admitting that it may have been funny. 

“Oh, yeah,” you answer now, drawing Shane out of his thoughts. 

“I like it,” Sebastian says. 

“Thanks,” you respond. 

Shane knows he shouldn’t be feeling anything close to jealousy. Sebastian’s a good guy, and he was one of the first to congratulate you both when you started dating. He isn’t a threat. But, then again, feelings aren’t always logical. 

“Did you go to the same artist or a different one?” Sebastian asks. 

“Same one,” you reply. “She’s still in the city, so it was a bit of a drive, obviously, but. Worth it.” 

“For sure,” Sebastian agrees, nodding and looking down at your tattoo again. A hesitant smile. “It looks cool. Seriously.” 

Shane’s in agreement there. Your tattoos don’t have much color in them, which makes them look very sleek. It made sense the way you explained it: color can fade more easily, especially in the sun; plus, color doesn’t necessarily translate as well on skin. Your new tattoo is from a horror manga you were telling him about—something by Junji Ito, Shane remembers—and it looks pretty cool. Unique, too. 

“Thanks,” you smile back at Sebastian. “Hey, that means a lot coming from the guy who smokes in the rain like some kind of movie character.” 

Sebastian huffs. “Shut up,” he responds. 

Shane stifles a smile of his own. As Abigail soon starts interrogating you on the pain and process, Shane places a hand on your knee without thinking much of it. 

One afternoon, Shane and you are walking along the docks when he sees Elliott’s cabin door swing open. Immediately, he’s resisting the urge to groan in annoyance. 

Shane doesn’t like everyone, and that’s perfectly fine. Sure, he doesn’t have much to talk with Alex about since he’s such a jock; sure, he and Haley have quite literally never even spoken; sure, he avoids Kent with a ten-foot pole because the guy intimidates him. 

But Elliott. Elliott… He really pisses Shane off. He’s not quite sure what it is—maybe the guy’s general vanity, coupled with the way he’s always trying to sound like an intellectual. It’s something like that. Elliott is just… kind of pretentious, for lack of a better word. He acts like shutting himself in his little cabin makes him better than everyone else. In Shane’s eyes, he’s just leaning on the “tortured poet” archetype way too much. 

And is Shane projecting? Maybe. Maybe he is. But he swears, in the interactions he’s had with the guy, Elliott has rarely contributed anything of value. 

“Hello,” Elliott greets you both as you head back to the sandy shore. Shane doesn’t fail to notice how his eyes stay on you at least twice as long. 

“Hey, Elliott,” you reply with a slight smile. Shane buries his hands in his pockets, trying to look like he’s grumpy for no particular reason. He’s not the biggest fan of Elliott, safe to say. He settles for giving him a nod, which Elliott returns with that twinkling smile of his. The one that’s supposed to be charming. Shane just grits his teeth. 

“You’re taking breaks between all this running around, I hope?” Elliott asks you, proceeding to act as if Shane isn’t even standing there. “The human spirit needs nourishment.” 

“Uh… yeah, definitely,” you say somewhat awkwardly. You look slightly tense, stiff, but Shane is the only one to notice. It’s subtle. 

“You’re welcome to come inside, if you’d like,” Elliott offers. 

“That’s okay, we were going to head to the library, actually,” you answer. Shane raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. You hadn’t mentioned the library before. “But thanks,” you continue. “See you around.” 

An effective end to the conversation. It’s almost impressive. Shane has seen people trapped in conversation with Elliott for at least ten minutes. Yet you’ve ended it swiftly, and you’re already walking off quickly. Shane has to speed up a bit—you walk very quickly sometimes—before falling into step at your side. There’s an unreadable look on your face as you head north towards town, the sand fading into pavement. 

When you continue walking forward instead of turning, Shane nudges your shoulder. “Library’s the other way,” he reminds you. 

“I know,” you blink. A glance at him, a slight smile. “I lied.” 

“Oh,” Shane responds. He continues walking with you as you make a left in front of Pierre’s before heading back to your farm. 

It’s quiet for a few moments, the fall air gently rustling your clothes. Shane looks at you sidelong, admiring you. You don’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with staring at the cobblestones beneath your feet. 

Then, out of nowhere, you break the silence. “‘The human spirit needs nourishment,’” you say in a mocking voice, shoving your hands in your pockets. A scoff. “He’s so pretentious.”

Shane raises an eyebrow, his heart upticking a bit. Leaves scuttle across the pavement. He turns back to you. 

“Also, kinda rude that he didn’t invite both of us,” you point out. 

“I wouldn’t have gone anyway,” Shane says before he can stop himself. He and Elliott have never gotten along. They’re hardly fighting or anything—they just have absolutely nothing in common. Their personalities are completely different: Shane fashions himself something of a pessimist, while Elliott is one of those relentless optimists who insists on seeing the beauty in everything. And sure, Shane is far from perfect himself, but at least he can admit to his insecurities. He’s done a lot of work to get to where he is. Meanwhile, Elliott just stays stagnant: fishing for compliments, trying to sound smart and profound… It’s annoying. 

Shane didn’t think you saw him that way too, but he’s realizing he isn’t giving you enough credit. You’ve always had a good read on people, and despite your role as the friendly farmer in town, you’re not a super sunny or endlessly bubbly person. He wouldn’t be with you if you were, because that would be exhausting. 

“Well,” you drawl. “Maybe we should just lay around at home. If Elliot recommends it, it must be the right thing to do,” you say sardonically. 

Shane chuckles, his hand slipping from yours so he can wrap an arm around your waist. “Guess we don’t have a choice.” 

A few days later, Shane is walking down the street, his mind elsewhere, when he hears your name being uttered. It’s sure as hell not your voice. He thinks it may be Haley? Another few steps and a glance at the side of their house confirms it—one of the windows is open, allowing the conversation Haley’s having to bleed into the air outside. 

He knows he should just keep walking. But something convinces him to stay. Maybe it’s insecurity, maybe it’s possessiveness, maybe it’s just genuine curiosity. Either way, Shane is rooted in place. 

“I wasn’t sure at first, but he’s great, seriously,” Haley continues. She must be talking with someone on the phone, because Shane can only hear her side of the conversation. There’s an awkward pause as the person on the phone speaks. Shane is too far away to hear it. Haley continues speaking. “He used to come around and give me sunflowers from his farm. So sweet.” 

Yes, your gift-giving. Shane knows you do that for virtually everyone in town, and you somehow know nearly all of their preferences. Including his own. Even when he was being an asshole in your first few months here—drowning under the weight of his alcoholism and cripplingly low self-worth—you’d bring him pizza and pepper poppers. You’re just a very nice person. 

Shane knows it tires you out sometimes, though. He can see the physical toll it takes on you: the dark circles that pop up when you don’t sleep well, the hunch to your shoulders and hissed breaths as you stretch out sore muscles. You do a shit ton for this town, and a lot of people take it for granted. 

“I know,” Haley continues, breaking Shane out of his thoughts. “He’s really hard-working. He built Pam a whole house.” 

Shane remembers that too, of course. Though he saw the other side of it, the one you didn’t show the others. He saw the exhaustion, the stress, the frustration, the guilt… All of it. He listened as you paced back and forth and debated the nature of the act, wondering if it would seem like you were pitying Pam. Shane held you close those nights, as you fell asleep within moments of sitting on the couch with him; he made your breakfasts and patched up the injuries you’d get from exploring the mines. All of it, just to give Pam a house. 

“Right?” Haley agrees with her friend on the phone. “Like, who does that?” 

A few seconds pass. Haley hums in contemplation. “He’s kinda, like, rugged?” she muses. Shane feels apprehension crawling up his spine at this turn in conversation. He knows where this is going. “I don’t know. He’s attractive, yeah…” She proceeds to rattle off your physical qualities from the top of her head, as if that’s something she thinks about often. Shane’s fists clench at his sides. She shouldn’t be able to talk about you like that. 

“No, he’s dating Shane.” A pause. He freezes. Haley squints. “No, I am not doing that.” She laughs. “They’re cute together, actually. But, yeah. Not a chance there. He’s really into him.” 

“Maybe in another life,” she sighs. Then Haley is moving on to talk about something else, and Shane is walking away with his heart in his throat. He doesn’t really know how to feel about what he just heard. He’s definitely jealous—or at least, he was at the beginning, but now he feels… almost validated? Haley is respecting your relationship. Hell, she said you were cute together. Coming from Haley of all people… well. Safe to say, she’s telling the truth. She’s not one to sugarcoat things. 

Shane has a bit of an extra pep to his step as he walks back home that afternoon. 

The Stardrop Saloon is busiest on Friday nights. More than half the town goes to converse and celebrate the end of the work week. Shane used to visit the saloon nearly every night, but now that he’s kicked his alcoholism for good, he’s been going there less frequently. Friday nights are usually an exception, though—there are enough people around for him to be distracted. 

Sometimes you’ll go with him to the saloon, and sometimes you won’t. On rare occasions, you’ll drop in on a random night and Shane will feel that spark in his chest, as if he’s meeting you all over again. Tonight, you both headed over from the house, though you soon settled in at the bar and sipped some water while Shane occupied his typical corner. He looks over at you in conversation with Gus; you catch his eye and smile. He glances away, fighting off a smile of his own. 

For whatever reason, there are a few people from out of town here today too. This occurrence is exceedingly rare, even after the bus system got fixed. Not many people want to visit Pelican Town. It’s not exactly optimized for tourists: there isn’t much to do other than speak with the locals and wander the beach. 

But this group of women doesn’t seem bothered. They look like they’re having a good amount of fun, actually: laughing and whispering amongst themselves. Shane feels one of them look his way and he’s quick to take a swig of his soda, the glass bottle giving him a well-needed hint of coolness in the stuffy air. With these tourists, the saloon is kind of packed. It’s not the biggest space, either, so it’s loud too. 

One of the women gets to her feet. Shane buries a hand in the pocket of his hoodie, trying to make it look as if he isn’t watching her warily. He’s getting this weird feeling, for some reason… 

Yeah. His instinct soon proves correct, because she makes a beeline for him. Shane takes another sip of his drink, struggling not to snap at her before she can even get a word out. He glances over at you. You’re distracted.  

“Hey, handsome,” the woman says sweetly, a bit too friendly for his liking. 

“...Hey,” Shane says flatly, attempting to convey his disinterest. It doesn’t really seem to work. He wonders if he’s losing his touch, if you’ve been too good of an impact on him.  

“We were just wondering if you wanted to join us,” she suggests. 

“Uh… I’m fine over here,” Shane manages to say. 

“A lone wolf, then,” she giggles, not seeming to get the hint. “So. What do you guys do for fun around here?” 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Shane says somewhat sardonically. He reminds himself to cool it down a bit: This is a stranger. She isn’t familiar with his sense of humor yet, and he doesn’t want to come across as a complete asshole. He scowls. “...The beach isn’t bad.” 

“Yeah, we were there earlier!” she says, lighting up a bit. “And the library’s pretty nice, too. I didn’t think this place would have a museum.” 

“Yeah, well…” Shane trails off, not quite sure how to respond without singing your praises. You’re the only reason their museum even has any artifacts in it. He glances over at you habitually. 

You’re not distracted anymore. Instead, you have a hand around your glass as you glare at the woman. You look away quickly, but not quickly enough. Shane still catches it: the frown on your lips, the narrowing of your eyes as you stare at this woman he’s talking to. 

Are you… jealous? 

No. Surely not. 

He turns back to the woman. “It’s a work in progress,” Shane manages to say wryly. He doesn’t even really know what that means, he was so distracted by you and the look on your face. But this woman is eating it up for some reason, laughing as if he’s just said the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Shane frowns, then looks over at you again. 

You’re still staring. There’s that furrow to your brows and that half-pout, half-scowl on your lips. It’s adorable. (And, yes, Shane knows you would definitely oppose that statement, arguing that you’re an adult, that ‘adorable’ is something for children. But Shane thinks it describes that expression on your face perfectly.) 

Then the woman reaches out and places a hand on Shane’s forearm. He isn’t expecting it, and for a second, he’s so stunned that he just stands there like an idiot. 

And out of the corner of his eye, Shane can see that you look pissed. If you were glaring before, you’re practically smiting her with your eyes now. It barely even looks like you’re blinking. Your jaw is clenched, your shoulders are drawn tight. 

Shane feels heat running up his spine and he’s quick to shrug the woman’s hand off, citing a need to get another drink. He doesn’t bother staying to hear her response. 

You think you’re going to kill this woman. 

She’s clearly into your boyfriend. Which, whatever—she has eyes. But she’s been slowly but surely encroaching on Shane’s space, and now she has a hand on his arm. And you feel weirdly homicidal. You settle for glaring at her from across the room, hoping that somehow divine intervention will send her drink right back into her face. Or maybe she’ll trip and look like an idiot, or maybe—

“You’re hot when you’re jealous,” a familiar voice says.  

You startle a bit, until you realize it’s just Shane. “You scared me,” you huff, sliding off the bar stool to stand next to him. You try to swallow back the ugly feeling climbing up your throat. His shoulder brushes against yours. It relaxes you a little, but not enough. “I wasn’t jealous,” you lie, struggling to find something to do with your hands. You tangle a finger in your belt loop. 

“Uh-huh,” Shane says, seeming amused. “Just glaring daggers into her for fun, right?”

“Yeah, it’s my new hobby,” you huff. 

“Dork,” he remarks. You roll your eyes, shoving a hand in your pocket and looking askance. It feels a bit warm in here now. 

“Fine, I was jealous,” you mutter, struggling to make eye contact. You look over at your boyfriend for a moment and then glance away, embarrassed. “Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Shane says dryly. He sidles closer to you, a hand finding the small of your back. It’s hard to tell where you end and he begins. “Welcome to my life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you frown. 

Shane gives you a flat look. He looks away, his hand warm on your back. “It’s stupid.” 

“I doubt it,” you reason. You’re sensing there’s something more to that remark. “What’s up, seriously?” The noise in the saloon fades to obscurity, everything behind Shane almost blurring and fading to the background. 

“Nothing, just…” Shane trails off. He looks ahead, his next words a bit quieter. “Feels like I’m fighting for your time and attention sometimes.” 

“Oh,” you realize. Suddenly that makes a lot more sense. And it makes you feel awful. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “Lots of people need you here.” 

“Yeah?” you frown. “Well, I need you. So… I’m sorry if I haven’t been acting like it.”

“I’ve been running around so much recently…” you recount. You try to see things from his perspective, imagining yourself in his place: watching your boyfriend bustle around all day, doing things for other people; getting home late and waking up early. You shake your head at yourself. “Ugh. I should’ve been making more time for you.” The thought makes you feel horrible. You never want your boyfriend to feel as if you aren’t putting him first. And the truth of the matter? You spend most of your days thinking about the time you’ll share with Shane after. 

“No, it’s fine—” Shane tries to say. Compromising as always. 

“No, it’s not,” you frown. You reach for his hand, tangling your fingers together. “The town can survive without its repairman for a day.”

“Repairman, farmer, therapist, miner, fisherman, relationship counselor…” Shane adds on, shooting you a fond look. “You wear a lot of hats around here.” You suppress a laugh at that. It’s true, but it sounds funny when it’s stated so brazenly. 

“Wanna head to Ginger Island for a few days?” you ask, studying his expression. Shane’s eyebrows climb up his forehead. “I was going to surprise you with the finished house, but…” Well. You’re kind of ruining the surprise now, but it’s worth it. Especially when you see Shane’s eyes glimmering, his gaze flitting about your face. 

“Seriously?” he asks hopefully. 

“Yeah,” you nod, your throat feeling tight. “I already asked Marnie if she’d watch over the animals for us.” 

“Prepared, are we?” Shane teases. Trying to maintain his composure, you suspect. 

“Well, we don’t have to go right this instant or anything,” you clarify. You squeeze his hand reassuringly, a smile gracing your lips. You’ve been working hard on the house, and you know he’ll love it. Plus, the island is beautiful: sprawling beaches, glittering waters, roaming wildlife. You want to share it with him. 

“But yeah,” you continue. “I want to share it with you first. The island, I mean.”

Shane looks stunned. He blinks, stands there silently for several moments. You wait for him, brushing a thumb across his knuckles. Just as your heart starts to race in your chest, a smile breaks onto his face. Not a strained one, not an awkward one. A real smile. He’s been doing more of that lately, and it takes your breath away every time. 

“Let’s do it,” Shane agrees. His eyes sparkle a bit in the dim lighting. You feel any remaining tension from earlier just fade right out of you. 

“Yeah?” you ask, a stupid smile on your face now. 

“Yeah,” he answers. Shane pulls you into him, and you bring a hand to his jaw before closing the distance and kissing him. He responds smoothly, a hand on the nape of your neck and the other resting on your hip. Everything: the saloon, the other villagers, the farm, the work day… It all bleeds away, until it’s just the two of you. 

“Get a room, lovebirds,” Gus teases, swiftly grounding you in reality. Shane and you break apart, mildly embarrassed but mostly happy. 

“Boys will be boys…” Pam mutters. You look over your shoulder in amusement and she shoots you a wink, before taking another swig of her beer. 

“Guess they’re used to us by now,” Shane remarks. 

“Guess so,” you agree. You look around the space, finding the typical suspects: Demetrius and Robin dancing; Marnie and Lewis conversing, with Leah and Elliott at the corner table; Abigail, Sam, and Sebastian are gathered in the far room. To your surprise, the tourists don’t seem to be here anymore. There was a group of about four of them, including the one who seemed particularly infatuated with your boyfriend. 

“Oh no, that woman left,” you say in a monotone voice, looking at Shane in poorly-hidden amusement. 

He just shoots you a fond look.

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You were pretty new to the circus , you arrived 2 weeks before Pomni. You kinda... Didnt really connect to anyone wich made your experience even more dreadfull. Ragatha does try to be there for you but you already feel like she seems to have way more baggage than she can carry so you kinda avoided her cause you felt kinda sad around her though you're sure she's very sweet.

One day the Candy Canyon adventure started, it didnt stand out much to you until you and Gummigoo fell right under the map and... Well you know what happend. You helped him while he was having his existancial crisis and offered him to join you to the Circus and thankfully Caine said yes !... You kinda developped a crush on him while doing so. He was the first person that made you feel kinda seen in the circus so naturally you two would stay together most of the time.

You didnt really wanna confess to him , not for now at least as he was still processing alot and putting your feelings on the table while he is very vulnerable is probably not a good idea. And when you think about it you were kinda vulnerable as well.

Anyway fast forwarding to episode 4 Caine looked up in the suggestion box and found Gangle's idea of working in a fast food , while Gummigoo kinda knew what a fast food is he never went to one , heck he doesnt even know how he has that information wich when he realized it kinda distressed him but he quickly calmed down himselt when the adventure started.

Not gonna lie , seeing him in the Spudsy uniform... You tought he was kinda attractive. THERE I SAID IT FORK FOUND IN KITCHEN I KNOW. You two were at the cash register (Pomni was doing the waitress ) , he kinda had a hard time understanding how it works but you tought it was cute. You kinda had to watch over him at first to be sure he doesnt get in trouble with Gangle

"You're supposed to ask them if they want the bill Gummigoo and print it if they do"

"Can you show me where I can do that on the screen?"

You approached his register , you kinda had to get close to him in order to do so since the cash registers werent that big , you could feel him looking at you attentively it made you feel nervous but in an exciting way ! You also felt his shoulder almost touching yours while doing so wich made you kinda go crazy in your mind, you tried to look as natural as possible cause you didnt wanna him to find out about your feelings but you were filled with glee at the mere tought of being able to help him and him looking at you.. You smiled a little bit as it was impossible of fully containing it.

"There."

"Righto , thank you mate."

He smiled at you and you returned the smile , why wouldnt you after all?

"It's nothing"

You went back to your own register cause you unfortunately had to.

Gummigoo was doing just fine talking to costumers though , he isnt a shy person or anything like that so it was easy for him but he kinda felt bad for everyone since they're all NPCs just like him.

Every thing went fine until Max and Chad entered the fast food. He was very happy too see them as he geniunely didnt expect that but he was also distraught because he left them behind and they dont know that once they leave their existance is likely over untill their next appearance even if it was for their own well-being

"Y/N ,The lads are here"

"Oh.. are you gonna be fine talking to them?"

"They're my mate.. Even if it pains me to leave them here I cant just avoid them , they should be happy while they can"

Max and Chad went to Gummigoo's register cause of course they would

"Boss ! We looked for you every where !"

"We didnt know you got a job , doesnt seem like you would do"

"Well l'ets say my hands are tieds and it isnt as bad as I tought"

"When will you Come back to us boss?"

"... Dont worry lads , I'll come back soon just trust me with this. So I'm guessing my lads want 6 hash-brown you'll split between 'em?"

"You got it right on the money boss !"

"With how easily you can read minds I'm sure you'll be out of here in no time !"

"I'm sure I will"

You felt BAD for him... Obviously he seemed happy to see his lads they're very close after all but seeing him lied to them it made you feel bad. You wish they could be reunited and even if he hides it to his lads you can tell he's hurting. Max and Chad went to their seat and Gummigoo sighed heavily... You decided that since you had no costumer it was fine if you chattes a bit , it's not even like you're getting paid for this

"You sure you're gonna be okay after this?'

He smiles at you weakly , he was clearly sad but he still wanna show you that he can take this

"I'm alright mate , thanks for worrying"

You decided to not press upon , it was probably for the better to push it aside until you two have an alone time together

"You must love them a lot"

"They're my lads , of course I do"

A few minutes later Pomni served Max and Chad wich meant they were going to leave soon... This made Gummigoo anxiously waiting for them to dissapear , he didnt want that yet so when they were starting to leave Gummigoo rushed to the entrance. His lads turned around but he didnt know what to say... You saw his mouth moving but you were too far to make out what Gummigoo was saying. Part of you was kinda hopping he could love you at least as much as love his lads.

He went back to the cash register , he was smiling , while there was definitly some sadness to it it also felt geniune.. Like he made peace with the situation at least partially

"What did you say- If you dont mind answer answering"

"No worries mate. I just told em... "Thanks for eating at Spudsy's""

You leave a bit of a silence before answering on a quiet yet happy tone

"I'm glad you did."

You responded with a smile... It was nice seeing him happy you would trade that sight for nothing and you damn hope you'll be able to make him smile every day... Gosh you're so corny... But you dont mind , if being corne fdels this good you'll be corny every day of the year especially if it make that aussie Gator happy

Your shift was finally over ! It was night now. You and Gummigoo clocked out at the same time fortunately and you quickly understood why , Caine didnt make a car for him

"Do... Do you think he hate me?"

"Wether or not he does it's really starting to piss me off. You matter a lot to me. So even if he hates you or if everyone did , wich they dont , you got me"

Caine was always kinda passive agressive toward Gummigoo in his adventures for some reason , he doesnt even have his own room for example , you offered to Gummigoo to sleep in yours but he told you that he's okay with sleeping outside , and thats not it , he deliberately ommit him every time he can and that really annoy you. Gummigoo chuckled at your words

"You're gonne make me blush mate !"

Oh. You kinda didnt realize what you were saying you felt so pissed at Caine and you were so focused on wanting Gummigoo to feel loved and appreciated that you didnt think of how it would come across as. I mean hey if it did come across as romantic he wouldnt be wrong but you still felt embarassed now you were the one blushing

"Oh sorry that's not what I-"

"It's alright mate I got it"

You hope he doesnt.. Or hope he does and reciprocate. You walked to your car with you two having a bit of a bashfull smile , you were still embarassed of what just happend but you felt oddly cheerfull. You two fastened your seatbelt and while you were driving under the beautiful night sky Gummigoo said on a gentle tone as if embarassed to admit it but still wanting you to feel as loved and appreciated as you make him feel

"You matter a lot to me too"

You smile to yourself as you make your way up the pathway into the rust syndicate building, the poke ball in your pocket rustling. You were so excited to give your boyfriend his little present. After being back in your home town in Paldea, you knew exactly what to get the leader.

You greeted the members of Corbeau’s team? Group? Gang? Yeah, Corbeau’s… gang, giving them polite smiles and waves as they returned it. You thanked the last grunt who had opened the door for you, receiving a nod in return.

As you entered the main room, you saw Corbeau, a stern look on his face and Phillipe was talking to him about something you couldn’t hear, the pair hadn’t noticed you yet, which surprised you, but maybe they were too busy in their work.

As you made your way over, finally your boyfriend looked up at you, his features turning soft, which seemed only to happen with you. He turned back to Phillipe, saying something quietly to him. The second-in-command stood up straight, looking at you, “welcome back” he spoke to you, before making his leave, leaving you and Corbeau alone.

He stands up from behind his desk, the soft look still on his face, which you happily return. “I missed you” you speak softly.

Corbeau wraps his arms around you, a gentle hug which you happily return. You hear a muffled “missed you too” which makes you laugh.

“Oh, I’ve got a present for you ‘beau” you speak, separating from the man, who looks at you quizzically, but you just grin back at him.

“Happy anniversary”, you hand him the poke ball.

Corbeau opens the ball, and the both of you look at the Clodsire that pops out. You smile widely, proud of your little present.

“This is Clodsire, he’s native from Paldea, and I just knew he’d be perfect for you ‘beau. He’s a poison and ground type, and look, I think he likes you already!” You finish, as the pokemon slowly makes it way towards Corbeau, who is looking at you lovingly.

He wonders what he did to deserve you.

You laugh at the pair, Corbeau with his signature look, and the happy little Clodsire. “I know he doesn’t fit your little mafia boss aesthetic” you joke around, making Corbeau shake his head. “But look what I have for him!”.

You reach into your bag, pulling something out. Corbeau stares in disbelief as he watches you tape angry eyebrows on to Clodsire. You pull a fake angry face at the Pokemon, who makes one back and Corbeau can’t help but laugh, as he watches you in awe.