How do you suppose Steven, N, Guzma, Leon, Volo, Arven, and Corbeau would respond when they feel jealous? Maybe another character or NPC is getting too close to the reader, perhaps flirting with them or even asks them to be a couple. Do they intervene, watch in agony??
Yearners are earners
jealous!Steven, N, Leon, Arven, Corbeau x Reader
Read Guzma and Volo here!
Content: possessiveness, light yandere themes
Arven
My man does NOT have the selfconfidence to survive this please be gentle
You were waiting for Arven in Area 1's Southern Province, near one of the ponds. Setting up the picnic table, you didn't think anyone would disturb you and your boyfriend this far out of the way of any major roads – until a relieved looking hiker came your way, clearly lost and asking for directions
Which is exactly when poor Arven came around the corner, seeing his partner conversing with some stranger over the table he was supposed to meet them for a date at
It had to come to this eventually, he thought. What could he of all people bring to the table in a relationship with such a wonderful, capable person? He was a weakling, a goofball, a downright loser – he couldn't even find the Herba Mystica on his own. Of course you'd get tired of him eventually. He should probably just leave-
"Arvie, baby, there you are!" You ran up to him and wrapped your arms around his neck just as he was about to turn around. "This hiker is lost, which way is it to the lighthouse again?"
Pointing in the direction of the lighthouse, he watched as the hiker thanked him sincerely and left immediately. Arven pulled you into a bear hug, and finally got a good look at the table over his shoulder
A yellow table cloth, your and his favourite flowers mixed in a vase, and Mabosstiff's favourite treats in a little bowl, waiting for a good boy to eat them
Arven chose to not tell you about his little jealous moment, and quietly swore so himself that he would work on his selfconfidence, now with the knowledge that his relationship with you is more than secure
Corbeau
We all know Corbeau was looking at wedding rings 2 days after the tower incident
Life is too short, and you were trying everything in your might to get yourself killed, and with the wormholes opening up around the city Corbeau is getting antsy
He hates that at this point almost no one knows about your relationship; the mere possibility that someone could take away what was his was eating him alive
He was rushing towards one of the wormholes, with the tracker he planted on you (don't worry about it <3) showing your vital signs being unusually low. Something happened, he just knows it
When he finally entered the alleyway the tracker pinged at, his blood started boiling immediately. You were sat against the wall, clearly injured, with a stranger holding a bottle of water to you lips while (probably) calling emergency services
Corbeau all but ripped that person away from you, good will be damned. Lucky for them, he was much more interested in checking you over than teaching them a lesson, letting them get away with a poisonous look
Picking you up bridal style, Corbeau scolded you all the way to the hospital, where he set up camp to stay by your side all night, even though the doctors only kept you for observation for a concussion
The next day, you left the hospital with your brand new fiancé holding your hand and carrying your bag for you
Leon
Goes from :D to :( real quick
He's so sweet, he mentions you in every interview, so how on earth did someone not know you were married??? Your wedding was livestreamed ffs (thank you Raihan for asking for poggies in chat when you and Leon kissed)
He literally talked about you in the interview he just gave, and yet he came back to the green room only to catch an intern of the studio trying to shoot his shot with you
When the intern saw leon enter the room, he panicked a little, knowing he wasn't supposed to be there in the first place. So, he asked you to leave with him, maybe get a coffee and–
"Oh, darling, you want a coffee? Let's order off Grubbinhub when we get home, I'm craving some pastries from the place we went to on our anniversary." Very subtle, Leon
But it got the job done; the intern understood immediately and made a remarkably quick escape, muttering apologies and excuses to leave
Putting an arm around you, Leon lamented his choice of engagement and wedding ring, wishing he went with the flashier options
Maybe he could have you wear his jersey next time? That should be obvious enough, right?
N
My autistic king... He has no idea that person is flirting with you
N thinks you're so amazing, so of course everyone would want to talk to you
He does draw the line at touching though. That's the place his hand is supposed to be, please don't put someone else's there thank you
When someone chatted you up while you were waiting for N to stop yapping the Nimbasa Amusement Park employee's ear off (something about the math behind rollercoasters??), N saw you out of the corner of his eye, but didn't see the need to intervene
... until the person slipped their arm around your waist
N was next to you in 0.1 seconds, grabbing the stranger's hand while pulling you behind him
"Hello. Please refrain from touching my partner." he said, the brim of his hat casting a menacing shadow over his face, "You can leave now. Goodbye."
Swift, to the point, efficient. The stranger, now weirded out, simply walked away with an "Okay...?", leaving you to shoot your boyfriend a look of "wtf was that about"
N, proud of himself for defending his spouse, puffed out his chest and turned to you, obviously waiting for a little praise
Give him a kiss to get him smiling again, and pull him away so he can't go round 2 with the employee
Steven
How many more stones does he have to deck you out in for people to get the message??
Well, Steven, it would certainly be easier to spot if you gave your partner sparklies instead of a cool andesite you found
Which leads us to the current situation, were some Devon worker didn't see you two arriving together and tried flirting with you at the water cooler while you waited for Steven to finish his meeting
When Steven came down the stairs and saw the middle manager try his luck, he rushed to you with big strides, making sure the clicking of his dress shoes against the tiles was loud enough to make everyone know he was approaching
Disregarding the worker, Steven took your hand in his and kissed you knuckles. "I am ever so sorry to keep you waiting, my darling. Are you ready to leave? Or did your new friend want to keep talking?" The most polite death stare was shot in the guy's direction, freezing the blood in his veins
The worker apologized profusely, practically scrambling away to pray his job would survive this encounter
Steven would ensure that you would join him for meetings from now on should he take you to work, even if you would be bored out of your mind
When dating someone, it is only natural that you befriend their pokemon.
cw: fluff, shorts
characters: Steven Stone, Corbeau, Grisham, Lance
💍Steven Stone 💎
You whined when the steel-type approached you with a demanding look in its glowing eyes. Turning your head, you refused to indulge it. Steven had no doubt already fed the pokemon, but it seemed to think that you had no idea of that fact. Four brains – Yeah, right. You told it no. It let out a cry. You were unmoved. Placing a hand on its flat head, you pet it. Assuring it you knew the Steven had already fed it made it whine.
You laughed when it lifted itself into your touch, instead opting to accept your touch. Positioning yourself to look the pokemon in the eye, you assured it that it would get more food later. Metagross needed to be in the best shape for whatever tournaments were no doubt coming up. A sound almost like a purr, but more like scraping metal came from it. You leaned your head to just above the centre of its facial armour. It really reminded you of your boyfriend.
Suddenly, arms came around you from behind and you nearly screamed. Steven rested his head on your shoulder. A hum came from him that turned into a chuckle. “Metagross's lustre is something else, isn't it?” he spoke playfully, “I'm glad you appreciate it, but it's my turn to have your attention.” The pokemon stomped off soon after, clearly not wanting to bare witness to Steven being clingy.
💜Corbeau💎
You laid on the bug as it curled into you. It let out soft chitters at random, but hardly made a move to disturb you. Corbeau had been busy in his office all day and hardly needed his partner for paperwork, so you had kept Scolipede with you. The pokemon let you use them as a pillow, accepting their role. You reached a hand lazily to scratch gently at their soft underside. Scolipede's tails popped up to wag.
You lifted yourself up to rest your forehead on their nose. Scolipede closed their eyes. You sighed. The bug reminded you so much of Corbeau— Even how they cuddled. Their little pseudo-legs clinging to you so much like how Corbeau had every limb trapping you in bed. Kissing the tip of their beak, you shifted yourself back to snuggle up into their side before finally dozing off.
It was to the feeling of someone shaking you that pulled you from your slumber. Corbeau gazed down at you with deceptively soft eyes but not for long. Scolipede moved their head to block your sight and receive their trainer's attention. A chuckle came from the crime boss as he moved his hand from your shoulder to pet the bug. Something of a purring sound came from Scolipede. You finally rose up. “Got a nice nap, huh?” His voice was teasing, “Don't blame you. No safer place to sleep – well, besides with me.” You suddenly caught and pulled into him. It seemed he wanted cuddles, too. Maybe from you both.
🔥Grisham☕️
You tackled the Charizard into a hug, having its arms come around to embrace you. The dragon was always so warm to the touch. Nuzzling your cheek against the softer skin of its tummy, you heard the pokemon let out a proud huff. A Charizard would be proud of its heat, naturally, and this time of year really brought out its assumed prowess. You lifted yourself up to gain its attention further. Teasing the dragon about being a little chubby from all the leftover crossoints made the pokemon turn its head.
The arms of pokemon remained around you as you shifted. Grisham likely was on his lunch already, but his Charizard was still here. Guarding, maybe? You pulled out your phone. He should have definitely already been on his lunch. Perhaps you should shoot him a text? It was then that you heard the door of the café truck open. Grisham stepped out and gave his nose bridge a rub before opening his eyes.
“… Has Charizard stolen you away?” he shook his head, “My, don't you look comfortable.” He approached with his arms crossed over his chest. You chuckled and managed to escape from the dragon's hold. He suddenly embraced you, pressing your head into his shoulder. “I'm quite warm myself,” his voice was low, “Won't you hug me instead?” You responded by holding him tightly as he did you.
🐉Lance❤️
Dragonite were exceedingly kind pokemon – this was what every PokeDex entry remarked about it when you read up on their behaviour. You could attest to them being quite friendly and gentle. Though, sometimes you wondered just how much of that was from your boyfriend's ability to tame them. You leaned into the soft form of the pokemon, sniffling from a sad scene in a show you were watching. The dragon clung back, holding you tightly to it.
You sobbed about why the scene had to do that to your favourite character. Dragonite let out a cry as it rubbed your back. Burying your face deeper into the dragon's body, you hicupped. The glare from the dragon was missed by you as it seemingly took aim at the television. Only to be stopped by the door of the room opening.
“What happened!?” a shocked voice echoed out. Dragonite released you as Lance pulled you into him instead. His calloused hand was gently on your cheek, wiping away your tears. The dragon puffed out its cheeks and pointed to the television – paused on the scene. Lance blinked a few times. “… I see…” He rubbed your back softly, “Thank you for comforting them, Dragonite.” You only clung to your boyfriend as you babbled about your show.
Summary: pokémon boys and where they like to kiss you!
Tags: various x gn!reader (separate), lowkey suggestive in one part, implied chubby reader, established relationship, fluff, short blurbs bc I'm DEEP in the trenches, names in bold and caps means they are the most likely to do this (imo)
A/N: been grinding on PLZA for the past few months and now I have the fattest crush on Grisham
Forehead!
Simple but gets the point across, especially when you both happen to be busy. However, his kisses feel more like hard smacks to your forehead rather than a loving display of affection because of how over-enthusiastic he gets when he sees you. Sometimes when he’s feeling extra needy, he’ll squish your cheeks together and kiss the living hell out of your entire face with an exaggerated ‘mwah’ sound for that dramatic effect.
Ash, Emmet, ADAMAN, Hop, LEON
Lips!
A classic, one could describe your boyfriend as a hopeless romantic if he prefers this type of kiss. Whether it be a chaste peck before rushing off to work or a deep and sensual one while you’re both tangled in each other’s embrace, your boyfriend absolutely turns into a pile of mush once your lips meet his. Just make sure to find a private space before the makeout session or else his poor pokémon will end up walking in on you both again.
GRISHAM, Sycamore, GRIMSLEY, Piers (please tell me you see the vision), Steven Stone
Neck!
You bagged a cheeky fellow it seems! One kiss from him never fails to leave you a flustered mess, and he knows that. The bastard loves to exploit that weakness of yours (in a good way, most of the time). The thing about his kisses is that you’ll never see them coming, you could be peacefully minding your own business one moment and in the next, he’ll sneak up and give your neck a playful nibble.
CORBEAU, Raihan, Wallace, VOLO, Grimsley
Tummy!
It doesn’t matter whether you’ve got any chub or not, your boyfriend here does not discriminate. You’re now officially his personal pillow. He’s tired? He’ll rest on your tummy. He lost a battle? He’ll rest on your tummy (and make you give him kisses). You’re feeling insecure about your body image? No problem, he’ll rest on your tummy and pepper it with tons of kisses because you deserve the whole world in his eyes.
GUZMA, Ingo, IVOR, Piers, Raihan
Hands!
Being the gentleman he is, it’s your boyfriend’s go-to option for when he wants to show you some affection. It is also proven to be very effective at chasing off anyone hitting on you (though you suspect it’s mainly because of how intimidating he is). Bonus points if he starts leaving behind a few fleeting kisses on your wrist before nuzzling his cheek into your palm for good measure. (He might also bite your fingers if he’s feeling a bit mean but it’s just to tease you.)
N, STEVEN STONE, Lysandre, Cyrus, PHILIPPE, Grisham
Credits: dividers by @/enchanthings, icons found on pinterest
Do not plagarise, copy, steal, or feed my work into AI. Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!
Your brain felt like mush, your wrist sore, your eyes tired. Was it finally over?
Some cute little thoughts to help tide those facing finals in the next few weeks. Y’all have got this, but remember to be kind to yourself and get a little treat afterwards. For the trials and tribulations.
Corbeau, Grisham, Steven Stone, Urbain
💜 Corbeau 💜
-he’s so proud that you’re in college, getting an education he never got the chance to get.
-he makes sure that your favorite snacks are always available to you, and slips one of your favorites into your bag just in case you need a between class pick me up. Sometimes there’s cute little love notes addressed to you.
-Corbeau doesn’t mind if you study when you’re at the Rust Syndicate office or at his place, though if you’re at his place he makes sure that you take breaks and don’t burn yourself out by staying up late working on papers.
-if you do your coursework while at the Rust Syndicate office, Corbeau enjoys the parallel work environment. He’ll ask occasional questions about what you’re working on. And he’ll usually end up gravitating to whichever couch you’re sitting on, laptop in hand and continuing his work closer to you.
-He’s insistent that you join him for dinner, and cooks it himself. Making sure that you take a break and get a balanced meal is just one of the many ways he shows his love for you.
-the day your finals are done, Corbeau personally picks you up from your campus. He’s made dinner reservations at your favorite place, but first a great big nap for your hard work.
☕️ Grisham 🔥
-There’s always a place for you to study when you visit whichever Cafe Nouveau truck Grisham is at that day. It’s got the comfiest seat, and usually has an umbrella overhead to keep the sun off of you.
-Grisham always makes sure that he makes your drink. He’ll often have it just finished by the time you come up to the window to order, having quickly memorized your go to orders. He does this especially in order to leave a little note for you on the cup, usually in the form of small hearts or words of encouragement.
-when you study at Cafe Nouveau, Grisham times his break with when you need a break from studying. The two of you get to sit and catch up, and Grisham is always interested to know about what you’re learning in your classes.
-On nights where you study at Grisham’s apartment he doesn’t mind. He’ll sit near you, his own book in hand. He lets you work in silence, but doesn’t mind if you play music either.
-If you end up falling asleep on the couch he’ll carefully pack your work up, book mark whichever page you were on and save your essay before closing your laptop. He’ll make sure your devices are charging. Then he’ll carry you to bed.
-During your finals week, Grisham will calmly help you study by gently quizzing you. If you have a presentation to give he’ll gladly sit through a practice run with you.
-when your finals are over Grisham cooks you dinner, curls up on the couch with you and will watch your favorite movie or current show until you fall asleep.
💎 Steven Stone 💎
-He gets so excited about your field of study that he reads the articles you talk about, or listens to your online lectures with you just so he can hold conversation with you and ask helpful questions.
-Steven will let you ramble about your area of study, about things happening on campus, or frustrations about your work. If you’re hyperfixated on a particular topic he asks probing questions so you don’t feel like you’re just info-dumping.
-Between your studying and Steven’s hyperfixation on rocks it’s easy to forget about mealtimes. Often the two of you end up cooking dinner together. At some point one of you get the idea to meal prep for the week, Steven graciously takes over this task and it becomes a pseudo-date for the two of you to go grocery shopping together.
-the week of your finals, Steven gives you a worry stone for good luck, something to keep your hands busy with when you need to think. The smooth surface is comforting during your longest written exam.
-when you finish your last exam, Steven is waiting for you, your favorite drink in hand. He gives you a rare PDA hug and tells you how proud he is of you. He’s planned out a relaxing vacation for the both of you.
🌟 Urbain 🌟
-Urbain does his best to support you through your classes, even if he doesn’t fully understand what you’re studying. He, Lida and Naveen make sure that you arent worn thin between royale battles and classes.
-Urbain kicks his cooking into high gear, making sure that you get a full breakfast, lunch and dinner. He’ll get up extra early to put together a lunch for you, and if you forget it he will run all the way to your campus to make sure you have something to eat.
-When you study at Hotel Z, Urbain makes you a pot of tea and arranges some light snacks for you. This was something AZ used to do and he’s more than happy to carry on the legacy. He’ll sometimes hangout with you while you study, unless you need space then absolutely he’ll give you space.
-if Urbain isn’t busy being Lumiose’s resident helper he’ll hang out in one of the on campus cafes while you’re in class, occasionally sending you encouraging texts, or photos of adorable pokemon he meets on campus (once he sent you a photo of an absolutely tiny Skiddo that was going to be a therapy pokemon in the library, you booked it to the library the moment your class was over).
-During your finals week, Team MZ all collaboratively help you study. The planning room becomes a makeshift study, Urbain keeps everyone supplied with plenty of tea and snacks.
-Urbain also walks you to your finals and waits outside, when you’re done he’s got your favorite treat with him, and has plans to make the biggest and best curry tower for you when you get home.
Hello, can I do a Pokémon request (multiple characters if you re able but if only do one I’ll be glad anyway. If only one preferably N) of headcanons with a reader who really loves fashion? Like really cares abt the way she dresses and abt colors and acessories and fashion in general. And like aways dresses for battle with clothes that will match her pokemons color scheme
N
At first, N is confused by your fashion obsession. He notices that before every battle you carefully choose colors and accessories that match your Pokémon’s type.
When he realizes it’s a way of honoring your Pokémon partners, he thinks it’s beautiful. If you have a grass-type team, you might wear soft greens, floral patterns, or leaf-shaped earrings. N absolutely compliments the symbolism behind your outfits rather than the trend itself. He’ll tilt his head and say something like.
“You dress like you belong beside them… like another part of the team.”
Sometimes Pokémon approach you first because your outfits make them feel represented and understood. He secretly loves watching you explain your outfit choices. If you ever match him (black, white, and green tones) he gets flustered immediately.
Steven Stone
Steven absolutely adores your sense of style. As someone fascinated by gems and minerals, he notices the details instantly. If you wear accessories resembling crystals or gemstones, he’ll immediately start identifying them.
“Those earrings resemble polished beryl… they match your Metagross perfectly.”
He sometimes gifts you jewelry inspired by your Pokémon team. You once showed up to a battle wearing a silver and steel outfit to match your steel types.
Steven almost forgot the battle because he was admiring how perfectly the metallic colors matched Metagross and Skarmory. He finds it elegant that your fashion reflects strategy and personality.
Gladion
Gladion pretends he doesn’t care. He absolutely cares. The first time you showed up wearing a dark aesthetic outfit matching your Pokémon, he stared a little too long. He likes how your clothes are bold and rebellious, similar to his own style.
If you ever match Silvally’s color scheme, he low-key thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. He’ll never say that out loud though.
“It’s practical for battle. That’s all.”
But he will stand slightly closer to you in public when he likes your outfit.
Grusha
Grusha is actually very style-conscious, even if he doesn’t show it openly. He notices how your outfits always match your Pokémon. If you use ice types and wear cool blues, whites, and fluffy textures he quietly approves. One day he casually says.
“Your outfit matches the snow really well.”
That is the Grusha equivalent of a huge compliment. If you ever give him fashion advice he pretends he doesn’t care, but he absolutely tries it later. He also thinks it’s cute that your battle outfits are both stylish and functional.
Amethio
Amethio notices details immediately. When you walk into a battle wearing a carefully coordinated outfit, he assumes it’s some kind of strategy. When he realizes it’s just your personality, he finds it intriguing.
You wearing darker or elegant styles that match your Pokémon makes him take you much more seriously as a trainer. If you match Ceruledge’s colors (deep purple, black, red), he actually pauses for a second. He respects the confidence it takes to battle while dressed so boldly. You being stylish throws him off his usual composure a little.
Friede
Friede is 100% supportive of your fashion choices. He thinks it’s super creative that your outfits match your Pokémon team. If you have an electric type and wear bright yellows or lightning accessories he’s like
“That’s awesome! It’s like Pikachu has a fashion partner!”
He hypes you up before battles. Friede would absolutely ask.
“Okay but what’s today’s theme? Fire? Fairy? Dark types??”
If you ever designed an outfit inspired by Captain Pikachu, he’d be ridiculously excited.
If you showed up to a tournament wearing an outfit that subtly matches one of these characters, they would all react differently.
I keep getting this one idea, and it won't leave my mind
Super cute, friendly, whimsical trainer (looks, acts, and is genuinely all three, even in battle and to their pokemon), but their pokemon are all ones considered "scary" or "threatening" (their pokemon are also on the sweeter side, and have cutesy names to boot)
Can be with whatever characters you'd like!
This is so cute!!! I will be choosing N, Morty, and Steven Stone for this ask.
Before I even get into these character headcanons, I would like to mention how silly it would be to own a Pokemon like Garchomp or Aggron, then name them Cupcake or Hashbrown. Absolutely adorable.
-
N:
Throughout all of his travels inside and presumably outside of Unova, N has encountered some of the harshest, perhaps most toxic trainers, which in turn make the most violent Pokemon. He has seen trainers treat their more dangerous Pokemon as tools of destruction instead of partners; the behavior and ideology reminds him of Ghetsis. This reminder brings his mood down, and N soon finds himself walking away before he can get truly heated. While he understands there exist Pokemon of great strength, that does not mean they deserved to be seen as just that. So when N meets his partner - his very silly and whimsical partner who breeds and trains Hydreigons to be sweet and cuddly as opposed to rough and tough, N's gentle heart soars beyond what he can handle. This man offers to help whenever possible. N's admiration for his lover's efforts and kindness bring him immense joy and comfort. I feel like N finds comfort in seeing other trainers treat their Pokemon so kindly.
Morty:
Ghost Type Pokemon are typically seen as mischievous, almost devilish Pokemon that should be avoided. There is fear and annoyance associated with them, and Morty recognizes this, even as a respected Gym Leader. However, Morty finds Ghost Types a joy to be around. After all, he is the type of person to be open-minded; he can see more than one perspective at a time and rarely ever casts judgement onto anyone. With this in mind, Morty aims to have a partner with similar values. So when he meets his cutesy partner and their Pokemon, he can't help but admire them for their efforts. Taking care of Pokemon is difficult in itself, but the difficulty increases when taking care of Pokemon with high battle prowess. Morty's Ghosts and his partner's Houndoom and Steelix, named Cocoa and Gumdrop respectively, would be best friends and would actively defend each other to the very end.
Steven Stone:
No one would refer to Steven's Pokemon as cuddly or approachable, and that is unfortunately a given since they're Steel Types. Many of them are incredibly dangerous to be around, and they certainly are not soft to the touch. Still, every Pokemon is capable of being friendly; all Pokemon can be your friend. It isn't often Steven has fellow trainers or admirers come up and praise his Pokemon for being adorable; instead, his Pokemon are praised for how strong they are. I would imagine Steven's first meeting with his soon to be significant other would go like this: he's taking Metagross out to get some nice Hoenn sunshine, then this whimsical trainer walks up to Steven and Metagross, and they're completely in awe at Steven's Pokemon. This turns into them begging to pet and play with Metagross. It's as if their life depends on it. Of course, despite Steven being a little surprised at this person's behavior, he allows it with no questions asked. Maybe this trainer has their own Metagross named Dumpling, and they introduce Dumpling to Steven's Metagross. Afterwards, Steven cannot help but be charmed by this odd trainer and then will ask them out on a date as soon as he can.
Warnings:fluff, gay, queer, mxm, prince reader, pokemon location and the mysteries of mew, royal au
Notes:
Summary: Steven stone meets the crown prince of the Rota kingdom and falls in love
🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛🌜🌛
"shouldn't the prince be with his people?" A voice broke (name) from his trance as he stood in the balcony, (name) was the third born Omegan son of queen Illene and a treasure of the kingdom.
"I just needed air" (name) said softly as he turned to see a man with silver hair in an expensive suit "have we met?"
"I don't believe so, Steven stone of Hoenn" Steven introduced himself as he took (name)s hand and kissed it gently "oh! You're the rock guy! My parents told me you found rare fossils in our caves!" (Name) said excitedly as he looked at the Alpha "that must be so exciting! Getting to explore like that" (name) almost looked dreamy at the thought of going out and adventuring "what else do you do?"
Steven smiled at the man and offered his arm for him to hold as they walked down the balcony stairs into the gardens of the palace and he shyly explained what he does "a pokemon champion... That's so cool" (name) said softly "I don't have any pokemon but when I was little I saw mew once! They have a tendency of causing mischief around the palace... Oh! I saw the Jewel of life when we visited a neighboring kingdom!" (Name) was giddy as he spoke to the young heir and Steven loved his enthusiasm.
"Would you care to meet my pokemon?" Steven offered the prince who looked at him wide eyed "really? Oh! Could we get some treats for them maybe? I wish to make a good impression!" (Name) was absolutely precious and Steven fell for him at that moment "of course, lead the way" Steven let the Omega lead him to the kitchen, the Omega going to a pantry in the grand kitchen "ah! Some pokebock!" He said holding a small box of pokeblock "the chefs make this for lucario and mime Jr" (name) said sweetly as he presented the box to the champion "do you think they will enjoy it?"
"I'm sure they will absolutely love it"
(Name) was a bit nervous as Steven took out his pokeballs and released his team, the pokemon looking pleased to see their partner.
"Oh they're so wonderful..." (Name) said gently and held the pokeblock shyly "here.." Steven came from behind and helped him feed the pokemon "they're very nice, they won't harm you" the silver haired man promised as he looked at how enchanted he was by them "you're all so wonderful, Arcieus truly shined upon you all" (name) was so kind with them and Steven let him spoil his team, giving them pets and kind words.
"What's it like? Being a trainer?" (Name) asked genuinely to Steven "it's incredible, exploring the world with them and being a champion is an experience within itself"
"I wish I could do that... Be a trainer..." (Name) had a distant look "do you think I could visit you? I heard slateport is quite the hustle and bustle" (name) was hopeful and Steven smiled "I would be honored"
The night was like a fairy tale for the both of them, (name) was completely enchanted by the champion and Steven didn't want to leave.
"When I return... Would you consider allowing me to start the courting process?" Steven asked hopefully and (name) grinned "I would be honored"
hjjjiiiiii i rlly enjoy ur writing n saw ur magcargo pfp …… do u by chance possibly write for pokemon …… if Yes! is ir possible for you to write a stevn stone x reader maybe Reader is lost in a cave N encounters the Great hoenn champion Steven Stone and he Kindly shows them the way out 🕊️🕊️🕊️ He leaves them a shiny rock as a good luck charm Maybe
Thnakyoyuuuuuu!!!!!!!
soak your skin in foreign gravel | steven stone
wc: 4.1k
pairing: steven stone x gn!reader
warnings/tags: Caves, Minor Injuries, First Meetings, takes place in unova, reader is from hoenn, i ramble on and on about home and nature and being a stranger in a foreign land or whatever (it's not that serious), kind of a lengthy conversation, steven stone is nice and nerdy, happens in mistralton cave
note: thank you to my first anon for noticing my magcargo pfp. i love my molten lava snail. ignoring how i forgot the entire good luck charm part (sorry... too tired to revise) here is your steven stone :0
The tire in your legs is an aching pull that grounds you. Gentle, somehow. You stand for a second and fall limp to your fatigue in the next. The soil below you, ancient as it is, is firmer than your spirits.
A pokemon of myth had chosen this cave to serve as its home, or so the folks say. The tales don’t carry much detail; that’s how it usually is with stories told by tongue. Somewhere within the grime, dust, and granite, you’d see hints of a life led before you, the idleness of a creature that has lived longer than the cities have. None of it is what you look for, though.
You are a blink away from going out cold in a cave when the figure of a man you do not recognize, all steel blue and brave red and blurry, kneels before you in concern.
“Are… you alright?”
You’re beginning to wonder if they were lying to you.
Coballion’s presence itself is questionable, but you don’t come in search of the beast itself. You feel for the stains on your shirt with a tremble. If anything, you are unwelcome. Legends are best left alone to their own devices, doing who knows what in places only Arceus is privy to. You understand that. You do. You’ve ventured through the oddities in Sevii, run around blades of Galarian grass, felt the rush of Alolan water riding against your skin; the languages aren’t always the same, but the people’s respect and reverence towards the pokemon that reside is universal. More so to the habitats that house them. You understand that much.
It must not be the luckiest of your days, then, because the world’s not right. A stubborn peek at the all you’d asked for, same as you do with anywhere you’ve yet to explore. The cave meant something to the people. It had a place. It was worth talking about, worth keeping alive. You don’t know what worth looks like, despite the scope of your travels, but you want to see it for yourself, over and over and over. Here you are.
What a sight you must be now, curled up with one scratch extra and a slip too far. Mistralton’s a little mean to you, but Unovan locals barely lie when it comes to loving their own land. Meaning will find you. All you are is unlucky. That ought to be it.
You lean your head towards your own shoulder, hands instinctively coming to cover the unpleasant things you’ve been painted with. You’re sure you look worse for wear. “I’m a bit ashamed,” you reply at last, not exactly a ‘yes’, but it should suffice as a ‘no’ if that’s what he wants to hear, “since it mustn’t be fun consoling a…” you hate to admit it but do so anyway, “...lost explorer.”
“Please. You think too lowly of yourself.” He shakes his head, setting his satchel down. “The fact you’d even made it here is–” There’s an awkward, uncertain break in his words as he darts his attention around in search of something to say. Then, he continues, “–oh. Impressive.” He nods before looking you in the eye. The hint of pride is there. Mostly for himself, though. Probably. “Yes. That’s the word.”
What, is he making fun of you?
“The water one must cross deters many from entering, doesn’t it? Depending on where you start, of course. Clay Tunnel is a long way here as well, if you came from Driftveil.” You didn’t. You’d surfed a good distance with one of your water-type pokemon to get to where you are. The moderate volume he speaks in does nothing for you when you’re another trip away from being lulled to a loss of consciousness. You hear his voice as you blink it off. It is as firm as obsidian and as clear as glass. You could not ignore him even if you wanted to. “The main body of Mistralton Cave is even harder to navigate.”
You ignore most of what leaves him in favor of sneaking a quick glance at the bag. His hands are on his knees. Are they lowered or resigned? You aren’t certain if he’s here to kill you, if there’s a knife or a gun or what. You are in a cave, after all. Nowhere near the broad daylight.
Weak as it is, you try a taunt, still untrusting. “Is it?”
“Indeed, I hear it is,” he outwardly agrees. “I feel that it is, too, now that I’m here myself. The next time I come here, I’ll do so with different shoes.”
It’s not the sarcasm you expect. From someone like him, it couldn’t be. Between you is a line, something there to signify the difference. His back is set straight, body aligned to perfection– a manner hard to keep when you travel and run and tread –and you are here, before him, slouching on top of a somewhat bloody leg.
Ah, you realize, and to you it is unfair. “You’re trying to make me feel better.”
He drops his gaze, a falter in his composure. You witness it, barely, because you’re in the dark. It’s a blur even though he’s right in front of you, but you do not miss the slight flush on his face as he averts his eyes elsewhere and quietly asks, “...is it working?”
Oh. How nice. You’d thought him a fool, worse now that you are aware; he’s completely serious. “I’d figured it isn’t very... pleasant to be in such a predicament. I apologize if I’m being out of line.”
Any shred of dirty hostility, your palms release. Nobody is going to kill you. You’d be surprised if the man has the guts. He doesn’t look like it.
You stop there. Don’t make it personal. It isn’t as though he means you any harm.
“No, it is– the feel better part, I mean. It’s working.” You’re running through your words now. Slow down. “Sorry.” You make sure his eyes are on you, though, just so you could show him what’s wrong with you as your head tilts down and his gaze follows yours. “These guys just put me in a bad mood.”
“Ah.” His eyes widen slightly, and when you look back up at him, you find a flash of recollection. He turns to the fallen satchel by the edge of his shoes in an instant, hands gathering the clasps and carefully pulling it open, and you wonder again if he’ll bring out a knife. A second later, and there are a variety of materials in his hands. Gauze pads and the like, and you swear the scent of isopropyl alcohol arises as soon as it leaves the bag to waft in the air. It’s a little late to do so, though, polite as he has been since your first words, he asks you for your permission, “May I?”
Save it for another day, maybe on one where you aren’t at risk of dying. You ditch every grain of reluctance in you and nod.
He seems relieved, if anything. “It may sting. Hold still.”
A minute or two of deft fixing and you’re patched up to the best of his ability, maybe not yet ready to run but remedied enough to keep talking. “There. Is it loose?”
You shake your head, moving a leg around abruptly to prove a lying point. “Not at all,” and you wince. In the midst of his handiwork, you take your care away from the pads, the scent of antiseptic, the pain and the like. Because you can’t help but notice: he looks too proper for this place.
He lets a well-mannered chuckle free, and for once, it sounds as if he’s taking in the kindness of fresh air. Allows himself to, despite the tense drop of his shoulders. “Do I, now?” Oh. You’d blurted it out loud. “I suppose you aren’t the first I’ve heard it from.”
Black suit and red tie, leather boots and all. He looks like someone too prim, too private, like a diamond meant to be paraded in public. Someone who belongs elsewhere, sitting on velvet sofas in marble homes. Perhaps beside a plaque displayed at a museum, or within the comfort brought by a stable office nine to five. Although you see it, faintly, how the slight glisten of sweat beneath his collar and the stray, unkempt strands refusing to stick to his steel-tinted hair say otherwise.
“You don’t have to answer,” he starts, “but I’d like to know what brought you here. I recall being told how Chargestone Cave was better for explorers? Although I’m not entirely sure…”
You’d call it being considerate– whatever he’s trying to pull by being keen on you and your business. For now.
“Heard about something interesting,” you answer. “Sorry you had to meet me like this.” Like this, cut up and bruised by nature, mud stuck to the hairs on your skin, and the dust off the chunky gravel seeping into the larger of your open wounds a good reason for your lack of silence. “I’m too nosy for my own good.”
“What a coincidence.” He smiles, all in good nature. Nothing like the condescending sort you’d always face back at home. “So am I.”
How intriguing. You could ask him the same thing, question his purpose a little. What else is there for your curiosity to do? Gnaw at the rocks? It would if it had the life to, but your teeth are weak and your throat’s had enough of the dirt all around you. A talk is enough. Keep it simple.
You gather the courage and return the gesture back to him with an inquisitive raise of your brow. “And what brings you here?”
“If I put it in your words,” he begins to think, but you believe the better instinct in you that he’s only pretending to. He says, “I’m also quite the nosy trainer myself, you see.”
“Oh,” you realize it then. “You aren’t from here.” The thought lifts the corner of your lips into something you’d call a smile. Small, though it exists– to you, whose body does it of its own volition, and perhaps to him, whose eyes may catch the flicker of solace you briefly show. Maybe. “Neither am I.”
For a moment, he eyes your clothing, curious about something you do not yet know if you’d like to share. “Where do you hail from?” is his question. He is gentle in his delivery. It’s a manner that matches his appearance well. It doesn’t distract you from it, however: how he is touched yet unscathed by the edge of his journeys. Elegant, to your mild surprise. Polished.
Still. A good conversation like this– at the very least, one where rude assumptions aren’t spat at you outright –it isn’t something you come across everyday, so you debate it truthfully. He lets the time pass in silence. For the most short-lived of moments, just a fraction of one, you try to decide. Where must you say you hail from when the whole world opens itself to you with its arms wide and free? Do you tell him, if ever, if it was the place you were born in, or if it was the place you were born to leave?
Maybe it was too trivial to share, yet you were here, sitting face to face with a stranger in a foreign land, inside an echoing cavern in which neither of you belong. It is only your voice, paired with his, that rings against the jagged stone walls and dies along the rocks older than everything. This is home; so is everywhere else. So is where you hail from.
You hold in a deep breath, and in the peace, you trust it.
“...Hoenn,” you say with hesitance, and it almost feels like a confession with how tight your throat constricts. It sounds to you like something you aren’t allowed to say. “But I haven’t been there in a long, long while.”
“Hoenn,” he repeats, calmer than yours, then pauses, and you can tell the surprise he displays is pleasant. There’s a kind of wonder in his gaze, when your own meets his– a kind of familiarity you cannot explain. And all at once, he looks both like a stranger and a friend. He says, softly, “What a small world.”
The shock flees in haste and you do not know why you believe him. You do not tell him ‘I want to know where you come from’ in turn. Even as he sits himself next to you, dirtying his black suit, staining himself in the same grime as you are, you do not ask him for more than what he is willing to give you. The gauze pads and bandages are his gift; you have told a truth you hesitate with as thanks.
But, only for the stranger who treats you like a friend though you sit together in foreign soil, you’d like to, for once. Another scratch can’t hurt you. Just this once.
You have treaded the body of nature, always wandering about with nowhere to truly stay. It is easy. It always responds differently: in the pokemon you come across, the terrain you dare to travel, the people you meet. You have called it home more than you have set your foot in Hoenn, despite nature being nowhere and everywhere, absent and present, today and tomorrow. Unova is nothing short of wondrous, exactly like Johto or Paldea when it bruises your knees and scratches you with stalagmite fingers. It is so different, and yet it is inexplicably– no, utterly, beautifully the same.
You have many a great desire, you realize then. Naive, yet you do not have the luxury to regret this, not in the way the man beside you likely does.
Ask away.
“Let me guess.” So, you start in the only way you know how to: with home. “Rustboro?”
“Far,” he replies, “though I will say I’ve been there.” The tone of his voice takes a melancholic stance. “Perhaps too often when I was younger. I owe my avoidance of it to that.”
“Smoke of the city got to you, didn’t it? The stuff never clears, anyway.” You didn’t have to, but you add it nonetheless, “That’s what happened to me.”
Rustboro, as you remember, was a city well-maintained and loved enough by its people. The flair was in the stringency, the city’s submission to the corporal life considered something worth dreaming of. And although the establishments, factories, and people held countless ideals, Rustboro, at its core, reveled in realism. It was grounded since it was someplace safe. Safety, as you’d accepted long ago, is not for you.
He aims his attention to the ceiling of the cave. Not much to look at, save for the few pokemon that sleep. “Well, I’ll be sure to tell the folks at Devon.”
“What, you work there or something?”
He almost sounds amused. “Not at all.” Or repulsed, in a milder way, as if the notion meant a tad more than the nothing he makes it seem as. You don’t know, either. The stranger’s quite hard to read.
You hum, skeptical. “Seriously? Is the suit and tie a statement, then?”
“If style is a statement,” he remarks, his fingers carding through the folds across his own clothes. Proud of his own choices, at least. You can see why.
“Sure is.” It clicks for you there, easy and instantaneous. You snap your fingers. “On second thought.”
He turns his head your way, not so startled by the echo of the sound. “Hm?”
“Fortree,” you guess again, but he chuckles, much to your dismay. Still far, it seems. Let’s see. There are over ten more towns and cities to cross off. You wonder where a man like him would be. Somewhere urban, where the streets are riddled to death with the rising factory smoke? Someplace living in modesty with its surroundings, like Fallarbor and Lavaridge, or somewhere in between?
“Are you fond of wailmer?” he hints. Anyone from Hoenn would understand immediately. You have not been there in years yourself, but having grown up there for a considerable portion of your life, you’d know it, too. You recall news reports and sections in papers dedicated to facts and intricacies about the region. There had been trivia meant for metropolis children who yearned for more than what the bustling roads took them to. Water and its ways. And if your memory serves you well…
“Mossdeep,” you whisper low. You sound more excited, for some reason, a detail surprising yourself. You don’t give it much thought. “You’re from Mossdeep!”
The relief that swells in your chest is less for him and more for yourself. So you’ve yet to lose heart yet. You still remember.
He brightens up. The joy, albeit minimal, etches itself onto his form evidently. He explains, “There’s a cave north of the city. Shoal– have you heard of it? It floods, almost completely, whenever the tide is high.”
Shoal. You have seen worse. So has he, you presume, if it is this much he knows of. When a rough landscape materializes in your mind, you can’t prevent the shiver that races down your spine. You hope your voice doesn’t show it, too. “Scary.”
“Isn’t it?” he says, agreeing with a newfound enthusiasm. “And if you have the courage to enter it, there exists a cavern of ice in the aphotic zone.”
“Purely ice and nothing else?”
“Not entirely ice. Most of it is, though,” he clarifies. “The geodes present are interesting as well. Some, I’ve only found to exist in Shoal Cave’s peculiar conditions. For instance, the–“ he stops himself, and for a moment you find yourself reluctant to ask him to continue.
“The…?”
“Ah. Excuse me. I didn’t mean to ramble.”
“No. Please go on.” Clumsily, your hands gesture for him to continue. You’ve come so far in the face of your unwanted stay. Because Coballion, or whichever fabled pokemon of lore in Mistralton Cave had sentenced you to misfortune in its territory, by now the fear must do nothing to graze you, or so you believe. And absent-mindedly, your mouth runs itself without regard, “You have a nice voice.”
You think nothing of it, maybe the man does. If so, he doesn’t show it. That, or you don’t hear it, really. There isn’t much to see with how dim the environment is.
The pause he permits is short. Either he has heard these very words a million times or he hasn’t. You do not care for the thought because either way, he tells you, so sincerely it could melt the gravel and granite and all things sharp and rough in this wicked cave, “Thank you.”
“And what was that about the geodes in Shoal Cave?” you continue. “Your knowledge goes pretty far. It’s cool.”
His closed-eye smile is an apologetic one. “I’m afraid I love what I do a little too much.”
Though a bit rude, you tell him, uncaring now, “Obsessions are good for you.”
“I prefer to call it a passion,” he counters. “Obsession, however? Haha. Many insist that it is. They aren’t wrong. I’d dwell upon it for the rest of my life if I could.”
“What do you do, anyway?”
“See this,” he says as he brings his closed satchel to his lap and opens it again. In slow movements, he digs through it under the lack of light, the memory of what lies inside alone guiding the hand that dives in when it feels for whatever it is he looks for. As soon as the thought of guessing what it could be strikes, you’re too slow. He pulls his hand out, now clenched into a gentle grip, and opens his palm to you.
Small gemstones present themselves almost shyly, not quite like sacrifices, but like two little lives, one a blue you do not often see outside of the shallow ocean and the other greener than Viridian blades. The glimmer shines through your lack of recognition. He fixes that for you. “This is peridot; the other, larimar. These were excavated two regions miles apart, nothing like each other, and yet the world will let me have it like this.”
“Rocks,” you begin, not in dismissal but in awe, “You’re obsessed with rocks.”
“Passionate,” he reminds you with a grin, but he does not retreat the gems from your view yet. He’s allowing your eyes to linger. This is a form of trust you’ll need to reciprocate. “What about you?”
You feel compelled to confess a habit of your own, just to make it fair. You want to say more, let him know he’s not alone. “I’m a corporate escapee turned professional drifter, or something like that,” you half-joke. You figure it’s the last you’ll give him for the rest of the day, so you turn the tip of your finger back to the tiny stories in his hand. You want more of what he has to say. “Back to your rocks, stranger. I wanna know why you love them.”
“Because rocks are born from resilience,” he states, asking for your palm to open. When you reluctantly allow it to, a gem– the blue one, larimar, you think –is there atop your skin, smooth and ancient and precious. “Time and time again, the world destroys, shields, and reinvents itself. Reemergence comes in all shapes and sizes.” He speaks in strong syllables and navigates them with loving ease. Geology, to him, must be something deserving of his fervor. “Watch as the tides take the shores whole, only to return again in gentle laps. See how the skies grace us with color mere minutes after it is devoured by storms. Stones and rocks, similarly, are products of reemergence.”
The peridot, he brings closer to his face, as though he could examine it, study it, admire it in all its glory forever. “It is a matter of a million years or longer,” and by now you’ve come to understand. You listen. “The world can periodically destroy the various aspects of its body, friend, and yet here they are,” he stops if only to regard the gem with the tenderness of a lover, “back to linger around as these little pieces.”
It makes you think of yourself, as everything always does: throughout the regions, from Hoenn to Kalos to wherever your feet have taken you in Unova, the one constance you will always have is yourself. You hurl yourself towards danger in search of reasons and meaning. You grasp at anything new, be it beauty, anger, or a brand new belief, and return to yourself in the end– even as you grow further into who Hoenn could not let you be, even as you are in pieces, you could always take a breath. Find your voice again. Reinvent yourself. Every step of the way, the world is with you.
“They fascinate me for a thousand reasons, though that, I believe, is the strongest one.”
Geology, to him, must be worth the dedication of his own life.
For the second time, you feel how familiar it truly is. Everything, you mean, the touch, the scent, the scenery. At first glance perhaps too rough or too polished, often overpowering yet overly calm. You have been everywhere. In it, there is the kind. You lie here, and simmer in the gentle reminder of it now that you have forgotten how friendly it can be. A man you do not know has the back of his suit touching the wall with unbelievably perfect posture, having tended to your wounds not too long ago. He keeps you company; you keep his. As often as it has you second-guessing your own survival, the world, foreign and familiar and everything in between, offers up these moments of… No, they’re more than mere convenience, so you do not call it that. How about consideration? Comfort, even?
“An outlook like that’s too enviable,” you say at last, full of relief, “Do you know what that means?”
Yes. You think you like how the sound falls on your ears.
“Oh,” he says, partly in realization, and you are aware of what it is and who he will be from now on. “How rude of me that I’ve yet to ask.”
It cares. You forget sometimes– how, in spite of the feet that trample on it, it gives back things that you are left to wonder if you deserve at all. And, in the end, all of its folks are ultimately forgiving.
“What is your name?”
You wonder if it is proof of your pardon, somehow, that you meet Steven Stone this way.
