• Raihan - is a blushing mess.
• When (Y/N) first arrives in Galar, your first city being that of Hammerlocke, Raihan face-plants into the hard, unforgiving cobblestone streets because he’s never seen someone so gorgeous, he didn’t know people could be that beautiful, brain.exe has stopped working, please shut down and restart—
• You run over to help him, checking his hands and knees for scrapes or bleeding, asking if he needs to go to a Pokémon Center to get checked out.
• He didn’t realize his nose started bleeding until you point it out, fishing a pristine handkerchief from your plaid button-up’s pocket, tenderly cleaning his nose.
• When your fingers brush against his lips, the blood in his body rushing north and south because your touch has his nerve endings lighting-up like The Fourth of July.
• Raihan is seconds away from succumbing to cardiac arrest from the proximity of you.
• (Y/N) stays with him in the P.C. while Nurse Joy resets his nose - Chansey’s Healing Aura helps a bit with the pain, but then you slide your hand into his, lacing your fingers together, murmuring quietly, “Squeeze if it hurts, yeah?”
• Raihan can’t remember why he’s here in the first place, hasn’t any concept of what pain is, not when this sweet, glorious, ravishing stranger’s touch has him on Cloud 9.
- (As if reading his thoughts - not so much the ‘glorious, ravishing’ half, more along the lines of the ‘sweet stranger’ bit - you smile and give him your name.
- There isn’t a single badge that Raihan’s earned or battle that Raihan’s won that’s as satisfying as earning the right to have your name.
- Luckily, he didn’t suffer any brain damage because instead of verbalizing that last thought, he cradles your hand in his, smiling reverently, lightly squeezing your fingers as he tests your name on his tongue.
- Gods, nothing has ever tasted this delicious.
- Oh. Shite. That’s right. Raihan has a name, too. That’d be inexplicably rude not to reciprocate. Well, except - the second you say his name, there’s a high chance of Raihan succumbing you cardiac arrest. Absolutely worth it.)
• Raihan’s temperature rises, his heart racing a thousand miles a minute, incredibly glad that Nurse Joy had taken his pulse and blood pressure when you walked-in with him because the electronics would be going haywire right now.
• He bites his lip to stop himself from doing something ridiculous and profess his undying love for you or kiss your plush lips (that he can’t stop glancing at, would be staring unabashedly and claiming for himself, but he isn’t ruining this potential relationship before it starts by being a creep.)
• When all is said and done, Raihan insists on taking (Y/N) out, showing them the tourist hotspots and the hidden gems that only people who’ve been born and raised in Hammerlocke know about.
• Your laugh becomes Raihan’s favorite sound in the multiverse in a matter of minutes and he takes a silent vow to get (Y/N) to smile and laugh as much as possible.
• Walking around the gargantuan city is something Raihan rarely consciously thought about (having lived here for years), but right now, he’s soaking up every last second of the night, engaged in conversation with you, this stunning person who he’s dying to know everything about.
• When the night ends and (Y/N) covers the tab for dinner, handing the waitress your credit card before Raihan can so much as reach for his wallet, giving your starstruck server an easy smile and playful wink.
• Leaving Raihan equal-parts upset and jealous.
• Upset because he’s the person who invited you to the restaurant, he’s the one who wanted you to have an incredible night, he’s the one who‘d do anything and everything to make you happy.
• Jealous because he’d sell his soul to be on the receiving end of those anything but platonic idiosyncrasies.
• Only, (Y/N) says that he can catch the bill for the next date with a radiant, brilliant smile.
• Raihan’s heart skips three, four, five beats as he stammers, blushes and nods eagerly.
• Raihan loosely coils an arm around (Y/N)’s waist, hand gingerly resting on the small of your back when you leave the restaurant together, only for his arm to drop to his side when the crisp air hits.
• Namely, hits (Y/N) - if your shivering is anything to go by.
• Without a second’s hesitation, Raihan’s zipping out of his hoodie, ignoring your assurance that you’re fine, that the restaurant’s heat and the wind’s chill will balance-out, but he’s draping the warm, soft material over (Y/N)’s shoulders and zipping it up 3/4 of the way, grinning triumphantly when your argument withers on your tongue.
• Only for Raihan‘s nose to start bleeding again when the image of you wearing his clothes registers in his skull, the sweater swallowing you whole, the hem of his hoodie reaching your knees, like royalty wearing their king’s cape—
• He is t h i s close to one of two things - 1.) Ravishing you, here and now, in the plaza with neon signs lighting up every square inch of space and dozens of people to bear witness or 2.) Passing out from the blood loss because no one has the right to look that g o r g e o u s and a d o r a b l e simultaneously, (Y/N) really is a g o d —
• When you’re outside of the hotel, (Y/N) thanks Raihan for the extraordinary day, for going out of his way to show you around.
• The breathtaking smile you give him leaves Raihan speechless for a few seconds, until he’s clearing his throat, crimson heavy in his cheeks, and assures you that it wasn’t any trouble, it was the polar opposite of trouble - it was his pleasure.
• (Y/N) reaches for the zipper of his hoodie, but he rests his hand over yours, says that you can keep it until the next date, a sharp-toothed grin tearing at his lips.
* (Internally, his stomach is in knots, filled with hope but tinged with the fear of rejection.)
• That fear disintegrates when (Y/N)’s eyes gleam magnificently in the moonlight, matching his grin with a w i c k e d smile that leaves him weak in the knees.
• You weave your fingers through his, rest your woven hands against his chest, and kiss his cheek sweetly (and delicately kiss the bandage over his nose, of course.)
• Raihan walks back to his house in a dazed, exuberant state.
• He oughta break his nose more often.
• When he’s back at his house, texting Leon each and every last detail about his day, sheepishly and hastily apologizing to his Pokémon for their late dinner, his best friend is quiet for a minute - something inherently strange because the only person more talkative than Raihan is Leon - before asking Raihan to turn on the television and flip to the news.
• Furrowed brows and a frown folding the corners of his mouth at Leon’s serious tone, Raihan obeys his instructions.
• Neither of them are fond of politics - they set-off on their journey to catch Pokémon and battle the strongest of trainers, not sit around a table and talk about logistics or fiscal situations - but in their positions, they do what they have to, as long as Galar and her people are thriving.
• Only, they aren’t talking about any of that. News crews, headlines, reporters, trainers and people alike are scrambling all over Galar because The Champion of Kanto a n d Johto is in the region.
• Raihan can’t believe his eyes, words failing him as his imagination runs wild, picturing battling someone t h a t strong - the person who’d single-handedly taken care of Team Rocket years ago, ending Pokémon trafficking and smuggling by defeating none-other than Don Giovanni himself.
• As if that isn’t enough for trainer of the century, said person traversed Kanto and Johto, defeating sixteen Gym Leaders and two Champions.
• Raihan’s excitement knows no bounds, like a child before Christmas, thinking about how he’s more than willing to leave his gym in the capable hands of his trainers to look for this Champion, grinning to himself when he realizes that this can be an adventure with (Y/N), that they could travel Galar together, taking the region by storm.
• He’s about to ask Leon if he can give him a ring in a few minutes, that his fingers are itching to text you, to not only journey together but to get to know you, your battle style, your Pokémon.
• His Rotom Phone would’ve crashed to the floor and shattered into pieces had there not been a Pokémon inside (Arceus knows how many phones he would’ve destroyed if they couldn’t float and move around by themselves) because it slips out of his fingers when The Champion’s name is displayed on-screen.
• Right beneath a picture of (Y/N).
• There aren’t any photo-shoots, candids or social media accounts for you - you’re remarkably private and not particularly keen about having your face plastered everywhere, which simply adds fuel to the tantalizing fire for the public because people want a face to go with the name.
• That face just happens to be yours.
• Leon’s voice barks at him, Rotom flashing a light in his eyes (similar to Nurse Joy earlier at the Pokémon Center), his Pokémon give him strange looks, and Raihan nose starts bleeding but d e f i n i t e l y not because he broke it earlier.
• He walked through Hammerlocke for a w h o l e day with The Champion of not one, but t w o regions.
• He had dinner with the person who stopped Team Rocket, the organization that ruled The Underworld, and defeated Don Giovanni in battle.
• He was kissed by the person, the legend, the myth that every region revered.
• But more importantly...
• He scraped his hands and knees falling for (Y/N) before he’d known your name or title.
• His Rotom Phone chirps with a new message - you’ve texted him back, saying you’d love to have breakfast with him tomorrow morning.
• The giddy smile taking up his face is so large that it aches, but it’s not going anywhere, anytime soon.
• Yeah, he’s definitely breaking his nose more often.