Summary: What starts as a brief, impulsive call to say good night dissolves into the dark hours of the morning.
Across the miles, Ash and Misty tether themselves to each other through tinny speakers and shared breath, taking apart the miles between them one hushed laugh at a time.
- pokeshipping. aaml.
Next Wednesday, we'll be reading Weathering the Storm by Car on Ao3.
Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74413721
Next Saturday, we’ll be reading the twenty-first and twenty-second chapters of All For One by licoricejellybean on Fanfiction.net.
AaMRN Book Club Multi-Chapter Saturday Week 27: All For One Chapters 19 and 20 by licoricejellybean.
For this week, we'll be reading the nineteenth and twentieth chapters of All For One by licoricejellybean on Fanfiction.net, Bop To The Top and We're All In This Together.
Summary: League rules force Ash and his friends to attend a competitive Pokemon High school, but Ash ends up fighting with his oldest rival over something far more important than a Pokemon battle. Poke, Ego, Contest and Ikarishipping. Not AU, fits into canon
Next Saturday, we'll be reading the twenty-first and twenty-second chapters of All For One by licoricejellybean on Fanfiction.net.
⤷ Ash is about to leave for another league battle. - pokeshipping. aaml.
• Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friendship/Love, Drabble, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Idiots in Love, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship
• published date: 2025-12-12
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The hotel room smelled like stale takeout and chlorine, probably from Misty’s hair, which was still damp from the pool. She sat cross-legged on the bed, rolling a Poké Ball between her fingers like a bored magician.
Her gaze flicked to Ash, who was currently upside down in his backpack, digging for something with the urgency of a Diglett in a sand storm.
"You sure you packed everything?" Misty asked, flicking the Poké Ball into the air and catching it without looking.
Ash's muffled voice came from inside the bag, "Pretty sure!" followed by the sound of something clattering to the floor, a half-eaten energy bar and a tangled mess of headphone wires.
Ash finally emerged from the backpack, hair sticking up in wild angles, and tossed a handful of crumpled receipts onto the bed. "Found my badge case," he announced triumphantly, though Misty noticed the zipper was half-broken and dangling by a thread.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "You're hopeless," she muttered, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward.
The room's AC unit rattled to life with a shudder, blowing lukewarm air that did nothing to cut through the sticky afternoon heat. Ash wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, leaving a smudge of dust from who-knows-where across his eyebrow. Misty opened her mouth to point it out, but he was already swinging the backpack over one shoulder with that familiar, reckless grin. "Ready to roll!"
Something metallic glinted in Misty's palm as she uncrossed her legs and stood. "Wait—" she started, but Ash turned abruptly, cupped her face in both hands, and kissed her square on the mouth. It lasted exactly three seconds—she counted—before he pulled back, cheeks flushed but grinning wider than ever. Misty's ears burned.
She cleared her throat and slowly uncurled her fingers, revealing his League ID card and a set of keys. "I meant these, you idiot," she said, voice cracking slightly. Ash blinked at them, then at her, then burst out laughing loud enough that Pikachu startled awake from its nap on the windowsill. "Oops," he said, not sounding sorry at all.
Misty jammed the items into his chest with more force than necessary, her face still blazing. "You'd forget your own head if it wasn't screwed on," she snapped, but the effect was ruined when Pikachu scampered over and climbed onto her shoulder, nuzzling her cheek then turned to his side.
Ash rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish but still radiating that infuriating, sun-bright energy.
"Tell me to stay."
The words slipped out before Ash could catch them, sharp and raw like a fresh wound. Misty froze, her breath hitching audibly.
He immediately regretted it—the way her eyebrows shot up, the way his fingers twitched like he wanted to reach for her but didn't know if he should. The AC unit chose that moment to cough out a dying whine, leaving silence thick enough to choke on.
Pikachu's ears drooped as it glanced between them before tactfully hopping down to investigate the forgotten energy bar on the floor. Ash opened his mouth, closed it, then finally managed a shaky exhale. "Misty, I—"
The hotel phone rang, shrill and insistent, slicing through the tension like a Razor Leaf. Ash jumped like he'd been electrocuted. Misty turned away, busying herself with straightening her already-perfectly-straight towel while he fumbled for the receiver.
"Yeah? Now? But—" His voice dropped to a whisper she couldn't hear over the pounding of her own heartbeat.
When he hung up, his expression was all wrong, too bright, too forced. "Gotta go!" He scooped up his backpack, hesitated at the door, hand on the knob, shoulders tense. For one impossible second, Misty thought he might turn around.
Outside, a horn honked. His ride to the stadium. Away from her. Ash glanced back at her with an expression that made her stomach flip. "So... see you after?" he asked, suddenly quieter.
Misty crossed her arms, refusing to acknowledge how her pulse jumped at the unspoken question beneath his words.
"Only if you don't get disqualified for forgetting your pants," she shot back. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her standing there, forcing to grin like an idiot, the room suddenly too big and too quiet without his chaos filling it.
Misty stared at the closed door, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The imprint of Ash’s lips still burned on hers—three seconds, stupidly, embarrassingly counted—but the ghost of his touch felt colder already.
She knew this dance. He’d bolt for the chaos, she’d follow despite herself, and they’d part ways at the next town with half-finished sentences and promises neither could keep. For days, weeks, months, or years that may turn into.
The AC sputtered again, exhaling a stale breath that carried the faintest whiff of his shampoo. Misty grabbed his discarded hoodie from the bed and pressed it to her face, inhaling the faded scent of sweat and before chucking it into the corner with a frustrated growl. “Idiot,” she muttered, but the word tasted like ash.
All works belongs exclusively to the author. Do not reupload, translate, rewrite, or alter my creations without permission. It's officially shared only via Tumblr and AO3.
⤷ Ash is staring at Misty somewhere public. She notices, makes eye contact with him, and smiles. Then, Ash quickly looks away, red and flustered. - pokeshipping. aaml.
"Would you stop staring?" Brock said. As Pikachu flicked his tail against Ash's ankle, claws clicking impatiently on the linoleum floor of the Cereluan Gym lobby.
Ash didn’t move. His hands were jammed in his pockets, shoulders hunched like he was trying to fold himself smaller. Across the room, Misty leaned against the vending machine, peeling the foil cap off a yogurt drink with her teeth. Her hair was still damp from the pool.
"Seriously," Brock muttered, "you’re being weird." Ash swallowed hard. His throat felt tight. Misty tossed the empty yogurt cup into the bin and stretched, the hem of her tank top riding up just enough to show sunburn peeling across her lower back.
Then she turned. Caught him looking. Her eyebrows lifted slowly, before her mouth curled into a grin. Ash spun around so fast he nearly tripped over Pikachu’s tail. The back of his neck burned.
Ash’s fingers twitched toward his cap, adjusting it with unnecessary force as if the brim could somehow shield him from the heat crawling up his face. He didn’t really even know why he’d been staring—it wasn’t like he’d never seen Misty drink a yogurt before, or stretch, or—okay, maybe not like that, all loose-limbed and careless, the way her arms arched over her head like she wasn’t even thinking about who might be watching.
A soda can clattered into the bin behind him, followed by footsteps, too light to be Brock’s, too purposeful to ignore. Ash’s stomach lurched. He could smell her, chlorine and that stupid coconut shampoo she always used, closer now. Pikachu’s ears twitched, gaze flicking between them like this was some kind of battle he was waiting to referee.
“You okay, Ash?” Misty’s voice was bright, teasing, the way it got when she knew she’d won something. “You look kinda… warm."
He wanted to bolt. Or maybe sink through the floor. His tongue felt like it had been swapped out for a wad of cotton, his pulse thudding in his ears loud enough he half-expected her to comment on that, too.
Curse his stupid hormones—this wasn’t like battling, where he could just act and things would fall into place. There wasn’t a strategy guide for whatever was happening to his body right now, the way his skin prickled when she stepped closer, the way he couldn’t seem to stop noticing things: the way her hair curled at the ends where it was still drying, the faint freckles across her shoulders he’d never paid attention to before.
Ash coughed pointedly. Ash realized he’d been gaping like a Magikarp again. His mouth opened, but all that came out was a choked noise that made Misty tilt her head, grin widening. "Meowth got your tongue?" she asked, and oh Arceus, she was enjoying this. Ash could almost see the victory sparking in her eyes, the same way it did when she landed a super-effective hit in battle.
He sucked in a breath, scrambling for something, anything, to say that wouldn’t make this worse. Behind Misty, the vending machine hummed, its fluorescent light catching the droplets still clinging to her collarbone. Ash’s brain short-circuited. "You’ve got—uh." He gestured vaguely at his own neck, then immediately regretted it. "Pool water. Or something."
Misty blinked, then laughed, a sharp, bright sound that bounced off the tiled walls, and turned away, swiping a hand over her skin. "You’re such a dork," she said, but there was something softer in it this time, an edge worn down. She didn’t walk away, though. Just hooked her thumbs into her shorts pockets and rocked back on her heels, studying him like he was a puzzle she’d only just realized was missing pieces.
Pikachu, meanwhile, had given up entirely, flopping onto his back with a dramatic sigh. Ash could feel the judgment radiating off him.
It wasn’t an out. It was worse: this is a challenge to himself. Ash’s pulse kicked up again, but this time, it wasn’t panic. It was the same electric buzz that shot through him like when he saw a gym badge gleaming across the battlefield.
Misty was already halfway to the exit, tossing a smirk over her shoulder like she knew exactly what she’d done. And maybe she did. Maybe that was the problem.
All works belongs exclusively to the author. Do not reupload, translate, rewrite, or alter my creations without permission. It's officially shared only via Tumblr and AO3.
