When Dragons Choose (Part 1): Lance x Female Reader
I was asked for a Lance x Reader story, where it's an encounter-to-falling-in-love. Reader has a baby dragon-type pokemon and Lance basically helps her raise and care for it and falls in love with her.
Buckle up, this is gonna be another longer work (I can't just write something short for this?? XD)
For my lovely friend @van1shiro!! (Also, I hope you don't mind that the reader doesn't technically catch this pokemon...)
You ran.
Celadon City blurred around you, neon signs streaking past, voices dissolving into noise as your boots struck pavement harder than they ever had before. Your breath burned in your chest, heart hammering so loudly you were certain they could hear it.
Behind you, footsteps.
“After her!”
“Don’t let her turn the corner!”
Your grip tightened around the weak pokemon in your arms. Dratini whimpered weakly, the sound slicing straight through your panic.
“I know, I know,” you gasped under your breath, pushing yourself harder. “It’s gonna be okay.”
You dodged through a crowd spilling out of the Celadon Department Store, nearly colliding with a couple exiting beneath the massive awning. Someone shouted as you cut between them, tightening your hold on the small, trembling weight in your arms.
“It’s okay,” you whispered breathlessly to the Dratini. “I’ve got you.”
And then your foot hit some steps wrong.
Pain flared sharp and sudden up your ankle, stealing your breath as you stumbled hard, barely managing to keep yourself upright. You bit back a cry, instinctively curling around the Dratini as you staggered down the last step and back onto the street.
Your ankle screamed when you put weight on it again. Just for a second, it refused to cooperate.
Boots scraped closer behind you. Too close. You could hear them now—feel them—their voices cutting through the noise of the street.
“There she is!”
“We’ve got her now!”
You tried to move, instinct kicking in before reason, and you shifted your weight forward, forcing your ankle to obey.
It didn’t.
Pain flared again, sharper this time, and your leg buckled without warning. You gasped, tightening your hold on the Dratini as the ground seemed to tilt beneath you—
A hand caught your arm.
Your momentum stopped abruptly as someone anchored you in place, the strength behind the grip unmistakable as he kept you upright without jarring the Dratini in your arms.
“I’ve got you,” a calm voice said close by.
You barely had time to register it before he stepped past you, positioning himself squarely between you and the men who had been closing in. You caught a glimpse of the man in front of you.
Red hair caught the sunlight. A long, dark, cape flowing in the slight breeze.
The men chasing you froze mid-reach, scrambling to a halt as their expressions flickered and recognition hit them like a dropped Poké Ball.
“L-Lance!” one of them sputtered.
Lance? You thought. Of Kanto’s Elite 4, and Johto’s Pokemon Champion? What is he doing here?
“What’s going on here?” Lance demanded.
The street slowed. Heads turned. People stared.
“…Sir,” one of them said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just a misunderstanding—”
“A misunderstanding,” Lance repeated, eyes sweeping over them with cool precision. “That involves chasing a civilian through a public street?”
Silence.
Lance’s gaze sharpened—taking in their posture, their spacing, the way they angled themselves around you rather than toward him. And though their uniforms told him that they were employees of Celadon's Gaming Corner, he knew better. But he didn’t call them out. He didn’t need to.
“I suggest you explain yourselves,” he said evenly, “before this becomes a matter for the League.”
The color drained from their faces.
“Hey—hey, let’s just get out of here,” one of them muttered, eyes darting. “That's an Elite 4 member right there.”
“We can’t,” another hissed back. “Do you have any idea what that Dratini’s worth?”
“The boss is going to—”
“Shut up.” their leader snapped.
He stepped forward, forcing a tight smile as if that might smooth things over.
“There’s been a misunderstanding,” he said, spreading his hands. “That Pokémon’s been reported lost. We’re just trying to recover it.”
Lance regarded him coolly.
“It was meant for the prize rotation at the Celadon Game Corner,” the man added quickly. “We’re authorized to retrieve it.”
That earned him Lance’s full attention.
“Authorized,” Lance repeated.
His gaze swept over the group again—the tension in their stance, the way they’d boxed you in, the fact that none of them had contacted the League or local authorities to recover this so-called ‘lost’ Pokémon.
“No League report,” Lance continued calmly. “No Ranger dispatch. No ownership registry filed.”
The leader’s smile faltered.
“And yet,” Lance said, voice even, “you chose to persue a civilian through a public street.”
The man’s jaw tightened.
“We were trying to avoid a scene.”
Lance’s eyes flicked briefly to your arms and to the trembling Dratini curled protectively against you.
“It seems you failed on that aspect.”
The leader’s hand drifted toward his belt, fingers brushing the edge of a Poké Ball, a calculated move.
“That would be a mistake,” Lance said.
Not a threat. A fact.
People were watching now. Whispers rippled through the street.
The leader hesitated—then slowly lowered his hand.
“…This isn’t over,” he muttered.
“It is for today,” Lance replied.
The silence that followed stretched tight and brittle before the man scoffed and turned away sharply.
“Move,” he barked.
The others didn’t hesitate. They retreated quickly, muttering apologies as they vanished into the crowd, slipping down side streets and between buildings until they were gone.
The street noise slowly crept back in.
You stood there, breath ragged, heart still racing, as Lance turned toward you—his attention shifting as decisively as his authority had moments before. Only then did you notice the tremor in your hands, the way your fingers tightened instinctively around the small body you held.
His gaze dropped immediately.
“That’s a Dratini,” he said.
It wasn’t a question.
You nodded, still catching your breath. “I—yes. She’s hurt.”
His expression sharpened—not with anger, but with focus.
“May I see her?”
You hesitated only a moment before adjusting your hold, allowing him a clearer look. The Dratini lay curled and thin in your arms, pink scales dulled and smudged with grime, her body trembling faintly as the warmth of your grip faded.
Lance was already moving.
He knelt without hesitation, drawing a compact kit from inside his coat, his hands precise and practiced—the kind of efficiency that spoke of long familiarity with injured Pokémon, even in the middle of a public street.
“This is prolonged neglect,” he said quietly as he worked. “Deliberate.”
Your jaw tightened. “They were selling rare Pokémon to the Game Corner, but—”
“You did the right thing,” Lance said immediately. "
There was no hesitation in it.
He worked carefully, angling his body to shield the Dratini from onlookers as he administered care with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his earlier authority. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, her breathing began to even out.
Then, he paused.
“…She’s a shiny,” he noted.
You swallowed. “I know.”
“That explains the pursuit,” he said grimly. “An ordinary Dratini is rare enough. A shiny…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “It makes sense they pressed harder for this one.”
When he finished, Lance rose to his feet and met your eyes.
“She’ll need warmth and quiet,” he said. “And careful handling for the next few days.” After a beat, he added, “Are you familiar with Dragon-types?”
You shook your head.
His expression shifted—not displeased, but thoughtful, as if weighing a decision.
“There’s a Pokémon Café nearby,” you offered. “It’s quieter than the street.”
Lance glanced once in the direction the men had fled, then back to you and the Dratini in your arms.
He took a step, then paused.
“Are you able to walk?” Lance asked, his gaze dropping briefly to your ankle.
You blinked, surprised he’d remembered—then gave a small nod. “Yes. I just stepped wrong on the stairs. It hurt, but nothing twisted or popped. I don’t think it’s sprained.”
He studied you for a moment longer, assessing—not doubting—just verifying.
“If it worsens,” he said, “tell me.”
“I will.”
Satisfied, he inclined his head and fell into step beside you, matching his pace to yours without comment or fuss.
And just like that, the chase ended—not with flashing lights or victory cheers, but with you walking beside one of the strongest trainers alive, carrying a fragile Dragon Pokémon who had already begun to change everything.
==========
The Pokémon Café was warm in a way the street hadn’t been.
Soft lighting glowed against polished wood, the air scented faintly with coffee and sugar. The hum of conversation stayed low—trainers murmuring over drinks, a few Pokémon curled at their feet. It was quiet enough that your pulse finally began to slow.
Lance chose a table tucked near the wall, away from the windows. Not hidden. Just… thoughtful.
“Sit,” he said gently.
You eased into the chair, adjusting the Dratini carefully against your chest. She stirred, then settled again as the warmth from your body seeped back into her. A server approached, and before you could get a word out, Lance ordered for both of you—coffee for himself, something lighter for you, along with a small plate of pastries.
“You didn’t have to—” you began.
“I know,” he replied simply.
The drinks arrived quickly. You wrapped your hands around the warm cup, letting the heat sink into your fingers.
Only then did Lance speak again.
“Tell me what happened,” he said.
You took a breath.
“I was just visiting Celadon,” you began. “I wanted to see the department store. Everyone talks about it.” You glanced down at the Dratini. “That’s when I heard shouting.”
Lance didn’t interrupt. He didn’t even nod. He just watched, listening with full attention.
“I saw two people chasing her,” you continued. “They were dressed like regular trainers, but they kept saying their boss would kill them if they lost her.” Your jaw tightened. “They called her rare. Said she was worth a fortune.”
Lance’s expression darkened slightly.
“She broke free, somehow,” you said. “Ran straight to me. I don’t know why—maybe she was just desperate—but I couldn’t…I couldn’t turn her away.”
You smiled faintly, more tired than amused.
“I’m not much of a trainer,” you admitted. “I can battle if I have to. I have my Sylveon and Ninetales, and while they can handle themselves, I’m afraid that my experience only extends to a singles, maybe even a doubles battle. I wasn’t going to risk her getting caught in the middle of that.”
“So you ran,” Lance said.
You nodded. “I picked her up and ran. I just wanted to get somewhere crowded, figuring we would be safe.” You paused, then let out a quiet breath. “And then I nearly fell on the steps.”
Lance’s gaze flicked briefly to your ankle.
“You protected her first,” he said.
It wasn’t praise. It was an observation.
“Yes,” you replied simply.
Silence settled—not awkward, but thoughtful. Lance lifted his coffee, taking a slow sip as he considered everything you’d said.
“You made several correct decisions,” he said at last. “You avoided escalation. You prioritized the Pokémon’s safety. And you sought help when you needed it.”
Your shoulders eased slightly at that.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” you said.
“That,” Lance replied, “is often when people reveal their true instincts.”
His gaze lingered on the Dratini a moment longer, thoughtful.
“Tell me,” Lance said, returning his attention to you, “what experience do you have with Dragon Pokémon?”
You hesitated. “Very little.”
He nodded once, unsurprised.
“Dragon-types are… demanding,” he said. “They are powerful, yes, but more importantly, they are sensitive to inconsistency. Poor handling can make them volatile. Neglect makes them dangerous to themselves as much as others.”
You shifted slightly, listening intently.
“They are not forgiving of half-measures,” he continued. “But when raised properly, there are few Pokémon more loyal. More resilient.” A faint pause. “More capable.”
It wasn’t arrogance in his voice, but conviction.
You swallowed. “I don’t want to hurt her by doing this wrong.”
Lance studied you, then seemed to realize something—the tension in your shoulders, the way your grip tightened around the Dratini as if bracing yourself.
He stopped.
“I don’t mean to overwhelm you,” he said, tone adjusting immediately. “Only to be clear.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.
After a moment, he added, more carefully, “If you feel this responsibility is more than you can manage…I can take her with me.”
The words landed heavier than anything he’d said so far.
You looked down at the Dratini, at the way she curled instinctively closer to your warmth, still weak but breathing steadily now.
“With you?” you asked quietly.
“Yes.” Lance didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. His reputation did that for him. Elite Four of Kanto, Champion of Johto, a master of Dragon-types known well beyond either region.
You knew who he was. Anyone who cared even a little about Pokémon did. And the idea made sense. Perfect sense, really. She would be safe. Properly trained. Raised by someone who understood Dragons not as curiosities, but as living forces.
You considered it seriously.
Long enough that Lance didn’t interrupt.
Finally, you nodded.
“…All right,” you said quietly. “If she’ll be safer with you.”
You shifted carefully in your seat, adjusting your hold so you could pass the Dratini across the table. She stirred as you moved, small body tensing, eyes fluttering open just enough to register that something was changing.
“It’s okay,” you murmured. “He’s going to help you.”
You began to lift her toward Lance.
The reaction was immediate.
The Dratini let out a sharp, indignant little cry and shoved herself back against your chest with surprising strength. Her head tucked beneath your chin as if she could physically will herself invisible.
You froze.
“Oh— I’m so sorry,” you blurted, instinctively curling around her again. “I didn’t mean to— she’s just— I’m sorry—”
Lance blinked. Then, unexpectedly, he laughed—a soft, surprised sound, more breath than voice.
“No offense taken,” he said, amusement warming his tone. “She’s still shaken. That’s not unusual, given what she’s been through.”
He leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice, his posture open and non-threatening.
“It’s all right,” he murmured, using a tone so calm and measured it almost vibrated. “You’re safe now.”
The Dratini did not move.
Lance reached into his coat and produced a small packet, opening it to reveal thin, greenish wafers that smelled faintly of water and minerals.
“These usually help,” he said, holding one out. “They’re made with algae that grow in Dragon’s Den. Dratini rarely refuse them.”
He offered it patiently.
The Dratini peeked out just enough to see it. She leaned out to sniff the treat, and then she turned her head away and pressed herself more firmly into your arm.
Lance paused.
He stared at her for a second—genuinely surprised—before letting out another quiet laugh.
“…I’ve never had one refuse those,” he admitted. “Not even the stubborn ones.”
You bit your lip. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Lance said. “This is…interesting.”
He hesitated, then added, politely, “If you don’t mind, I may need to be a bit more direct.”
You nodded, though your arms tightened reflexively.
“Easy,” Lance said, gentle but firm as he reached for the Dratini.
The moment his fingers brushed her side, she reacted.
The Dratini looped her body fully around your arm, tightening her grip and letting out a low, protesting sound that vibrated faintly against your skin. You gasped softly as she clung, refusing to budge no matter how carefully Lance tried to ease her loose.
He stopped, then looked at her. And then at you. And laughed again, this time openly, clearly delighted.
“Well,” he said, straightening slightly, “that explains a great deal.”
You stared at him. “I—does she…is this normal for them?”
“No,” Lance replied, still smiling. “Dratini don’t attach themselves like this. Not so quickly.” He regarded her with renewed interest. “She’s chosen you very deliberately.”
The Dratini tightened her hold, as if in agreement.
Lance leaned back, folding his hands loosely on the table.
“It seems,” he said, amused and thoughtful all at once, “that removing her from you may be more difficult than I anticipated.”
Lance leaned back slightly in his chair, eyes still on the Dratini curled tightly around your arm.
“Fascinating,” he murmured.
He reached into his coat again, this time drawing out a slim notebook and pen. You hadn’t even noticed him carrying it before. He jotted something down quickly, gaze flicking between the Dratini and the page as if cataloging a phenomenon rather than a problem.
“I’ve seen Dratini imprint before,” he continued, more to himself than to you. “Usually after prolonged care and extended training. Never this quickly, though, especially one with history like this one.” He paused, thoughtful. “The last time I saw a Dratini behave like this, I was still training at the Dragon’s Den.”
You shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her. “So, this isn’t normal behavior?”
“No,” he said simply. “But it also isn’t a bad sign.”
You watched him for a moment, then finally spoke, the question slipping out before doubt could stop it.
“If I were to keep her,” you asked, “where would I even start?”
Lance looked up.
“With care,” you clarified quickly. “I mean—are there books? Articles? Anything I could read? I don’t want to guess my way through this.”
He closed the notebook, considering.
“There are texts,” he said. “Guides. Most are incomplete. Dragon-types don’t respond well to generalized instruction.” A pause. “They’re best learned through observation. Through tradition.”
You frowned slightly. “Tradition?”
“Yes.” He met your eyes. “Blackthorn City.”
The name landed with weight.
Your breath caught just a little. “In Johto?”
Lance nodded. “My hometown.”
You’d heard of it, of course. The mountain city, the stronghold of Dragon-type trainers. And the Dragon’s Den, hidden deep within its caverns, spoken of in the same reverent tones people used for sacred places.
“The Dragon’s Den is where our clan trains,” Lance continued. “Where Dragon pokemon are raised, studied, and respected. If there is anywhere to learn how to care for her properly…it would be there.”
The thought sent a spark of excitement through you, bright and a little disbelieving. “You think they’d let me learn there?”
He hesitated—just slightly.
“It isn’t customary,” he admitted. “The clan can be a bit…narrow-minded. My cousin Claire and I were born into it, so naturally we were expected to walk the path of dragon tamers.” A faint, wry note entered his voice. “Outsiders are rarely welcomed.”
Your heart sank a little.
“But,” Lance added, “I am not without influence.”
You looked at him.
“I can write to Claire,” he said. “Explain the circumstances. Your actions today. The Dratini’s behavior.” His gaze dropped briefly to the Pokémon still clinging to you. “That alone will raise questions. The more people vouching for you, the better. Claire has plenty of influence as well, as Blackthorn City’s gym leader.”
Hope stirred again.
“I won’t promise acceptance,” he said carefully. “But I believe you would be given a chance.”
You glanced down at the Dratini, who shifted slightly but didn’t loosen her grip.
“…I’d like that,” you said quietly. “Very much.”
Lance studied you for a moment, as if measuring resolve rather than skill.
“Then,” he said at last, “that may be where your journey begins.”
Click Here for Part 2
