your-dearest-sunshine

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Cheownwowbwown it hurts so good babe it hurts so good

God does Emmet move the stuff back after he accepts his kid’s “death”? Like, imagine coming home and finding out your own father did everything he could to forget you even existed in the first place

Man how badly that would hurt.

Gah! It’s such good angst!

Emmet and his Hisui’d!Child!Reader Angst

i legit think there’s two ways this could go after emmet accepts your “death.” 1) emmet moves some stuff back, but obviously not everything because he can’t replicate your presence again. he does enough where he can see your influence in important places like your home and his office, such as a few pictures and a small gift or two you gave him. 2) emmet focuses so much on his own recovery and healing that he never puts anything back up.

and remember, post-hisui, emmet’s child becomes more aggressive and hostile as explained here.

now…let’s examine scenario 2, shall we? >:)

(this takes place directly after the “If you recognize him” ending of the original post here. also pls forgive me, this has not been proofread :>)

wc: ~3.2k

//

Emmet doesn’t waste any time getting you home. Gear Station and storm be damned, you are the priority now.

It’s hard to say what happens next. The whole situation overpowers all of your senses such that time seems to speed up. Sights and sounds pass you by, gaps of information appearing one after the next.

Wait, what street was this again? I should know that at least. I don’t remember my usual order from that cafe even though I knew I had one…where is that Pokémon that lived in that home again? What type was it again? Fire? No, water maybe? Normal? My head hurts. The pressure here is so much different than it was in Hisu—no, it was Sinnoh now, wasn’t it? Oh. Everyone is dead, aren’t they? No number of photographs could’ve kept their physical forms around for this long…but what year was it again? How old am I? How do I get home from here? Nimbasa is so loud—

Your vision skips across the streets packed inch to inch with buildings, neon signs glowing strongly under the darkened sky. You feel a little scrambled. Emmet ushers you alongside him back towards your townhouse, hand never leaving your shoulders where he holds you close. Eelektross and Durant move alongside you both, Emmet commanding them to be on high alert.

Opening the front door, you and your father, soaked from the rain, rush inside. While you weren’t expecting anything in particular with your brain moving a million miles a minute, you could immediately tell that something here wasn’t…right.

On many cold nights did you lay on that small, uncomfortable futon in Jubilife Village and dream of this moment. You imagined the day you’d get to walk though this familiar door, brush your fingers along the frame and feel the wood vinyl flooring under your feet. You had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

There is supposed to be a coat rack right next to the entrance, the metal rod bent in the center from where you ran into it when you were six. Where did it go? The mat under your shoes is brown. It should be blue. The wall to your left looks far too empty, missing the large canvas print photo you took with Emmet and Ingo on their thirtieth birthday. The potted plants you take care of on the front windowsill are gone. Too many things are different.

The septic smell of a generic-scented cleaner hit your nose (Emmet doesn’t like the overpowering scents of any other brand). It mixes with the smell of rain outside. You feel uneasy. For a second, you thought that you would smell a familiar scent of wax and sap. But you don’t.

“It looks…different in here.”

Your voice comes out a little unsteady. It’s hard for you to keep your eyes from darting around everywhere. All you can seem to do is glance and gleam and stare at how foreign the entryway to your home feels. You’d count the changes on your fingers if you could but there are far too many to keep track of.

Not bothering to close the front door, you walk into the dining room. Your clothes cling to your skin like the rising dread clings to your heart. Emmet follows alongside you, hand resting in between your shoulder blades. He doesn’t want to lose his connection to you. Your father fears that if you leave his grasp that you’ll vanish into the night again.

Against the wall of the dining room is a tall glass cabinet full of important items: family heirlooms, rare collectibles, special dinnerware, childhood art sculptures, framed photos, and countless other things. It was a snapshot of your life with your father, nearly overflowing with possessions, brimming with character and untold stories.

Well, that’s what it should’ve looked like.

The cabinet, as it stands before you, is much more empty than normal. Fancy plates and cups stare back at you, and so do a few of your father’s special model trains. But, there is a lack of your projects from art class. The photo of your birth parents holding you as an infant is gone, too. That four-leaf clover you found when you were seven isn't displayed either. Neither is the white velvet box that held both of your birth parents' wedding rings. 

That’s…that’s not right. There is no way this was robbed, because the rare pearl and onyx encrusted brooch that Emmet’s grandmother gave him is still propped up right there. That was arguably the most valuable thing in this case in the first place. Besides, no thief would steal those childish sculptures you made in elementary school. Where…what happened? There is no way that the only things missing are…

You rush into the kitchen, and Emmet is quick to follow. The rain dripping off the both of you leaves puddles in your wake, droplets flickering with every movement you make. His gloved fingers grip onto your hand, pale hair sticking to his cheeks. Letting you go isn’t even a feasible thought that passes through his head.

Despite being gone for two and a half years, the memory of your home, this home, rings loudly in your head. It’s easy to remember what should be here and what isn’t. That’s why it doesn’t take you more than a second to realize that your favorite colored apron you keep hanging beside the fridge is gone.

Emmet’s silver eyes are trained on nothing but you. His thoughts don’t land on the fact that you’re wearing strange clothes, or the fact that you have an odd satchel wrapped around your waist, or the fact that there’s a few scars creeping around your open skin. Your father’s thoughts are on the fact that he can feel the pulse of your blood in his hand, that he can hear the soft murmurs of your voice, that he can see the rise and fall of your chest—it’s all proof that you’re alive.

“Papa, where’s all my stuff?”

Oh, so you caught on to that. It wasn’t hard to see the pattern in the things that are absent or different. Things you made or touched or altered are all different; everything that was yours or passed through your sphere of influence is gone. They’ve all been either erased or replaced. One of two extremes.

Never one to shy away from the truth in his words, Emmet tells you what you want to hear.

“It was hard for me to accept your absence. Thinking about you hurt me. I moved all of the things that reminded me of you. Yep. It was verrrrry hard without you here.”

Your stomach feels hot and heavy at his words. The water lingering on your skin almost sizzles from the fiery emotion filling you. You try to tug your hand out of Emmet’s grip lightly, but he unconsciously holds you tighter. He can’t let go of you. Not now, not ever again.

“...so you got rid of everything about me?” Your voice teeters on the sharp edge of confusion and betrayal. The wind howls outside, blowing through the home from the open front door.

For a second, it reminds you of a Zoroark’s haunting call in the tundras of the Alabaster Icelands. A phantom pain from the healed, but scarred, gashes on your back flare up, setting your heart on fire. It burns in the cavity of your chest, aching, pounding, screaming to escape.

“Yep. In my grief I tried to forget you. Removing your things was a part of that process,” Emmet says, plain as ever. His monotone is upsetting you. How fast did he get rid of your presence? “Ingo was not happy with me. Neither was Elesa. It was easier for me to move on this way. Yep, yes it was.”

You yank your hand out of your father’s grasp, as if simply touching him was burning you. One step, two steps, three—you stumble away from him. A gasp tears through the air from your throat, Emmet’s words pulling the breath from your chest. You blink, and suddenly your lungs are filled with rainwater.

You feel like a stranger in your own home. 

“You…you tried to get rid of me?!”

Emmet’s taken aback by your reaction. The absence of your hand in his ripples up his arm in harrowing shocks. Goosebumps rise along his skin. The image of you moving away from him leaves a familiar sensation in his gut. No, what are you doing? You can’t be leaving him again. He just got you back! You’re going to leave again. Gone gone gone gone—

“You were already gone!” Emmet says, voice getting a bit louder. Panic starts to ebb into his being because your eyes are staring at him like that—like he’s hurt you, like he’s betrayed you and left you to die. “You left me!”

A scoff leaves your lips, eyes going wide and expression snarling in incredulousness. Your hand reaches up and you grab at your scarf, fingers loosening the fabric. It feels suffocating. You’re going to drown in your own emotions.

The storm rages outside.

“You say that like I had a choice! As if it was my idea to be—no! Stop moving, what are you–?” You stagger back as Emmet comes closer to you. He tries to reach for you but you bat his hands away. “No! Don’t touch me!”

His knees shake, becoming unsteady on his feet. The weight of your words acts like gravity, pushing his body towards the earth. All he wants to do is be near you, hold you safe in his arms, confirm that you’ll be here tomorrow and the day after that and the next month and the following year and—no, he wants you to be here forever.

You let out a frustrated shout in a flash of rage, hands pulling at the roots of your hair. Angry tears spring in your eyes, but you don’t have half a calm mind to wipe them away before they fall.

“I should’ve known! Arceus above, I knew you would take the opportunity to get rid of me the second you got the chance!”

Emmet gaps at you. There’s no way you fully believe that, right? Every day you were together was spent full of support, honesty, freedom, adventure, and love.

He shakes his head vehemently.

“I am Emmet and I would never–” Emmet’s voice breaks halfway through his sentence. He can’t even speak because what you’re claiming is so far from the truth and it hurts him so bad that you would even think anything like that. “I am Emmet and I would never abandon you.”

Was he a bad father? How long have you felt like this? Did he not notice you had felt this way before your disappearance? Where had he gone wrong?

“Then what do you call this, Emmet,” you spit his name like poison, gesturing to the lack of you anywhere in the vicinity. “You said you tried to move on from me, tried to forget me. For the love of Arceus, you never wanted me in the first place, did you?” 

No, not like this. This isn’t how he imagined your return. You were both supposed to be happy! You both would laugh and cry and never let each other go. There would be endless smiles and the sun would shine bright and everything in the world would be right again. 

Emmet feels his chest contract, ribs curling in and crushing his organs. The air halts in his lungs and he can’t release his held breath. The world crashes in around him, tunneling his vision to where all he can see is your seething, hateful stare.

“It’s because I was never your real child, right? I was just some kid you were stuck with! You never loved me!”

You don’t believe a word you’re saying; you never did, never have, never will.

The words flash off your tongue before you know what you’re saying at all. They’re full of malice, collaring your anger to your flesh and strangling you with it. Every syllable you say is wrought with the outrage you feel. It’s like a crown of thorns, blood dripping into your eyes and blinding you with red red red.

The human nature to self-destruct grabs you by the throat and sets you alight. You brim with thoughts of tearing yourself to pieces and taking down everything around you in a fit of madness. Your words have no goal but to hurt. You are not revealing secrets or emotions long-kept, you are exploding in a ring of fire with only the desire to burn.

Emmet collects himself, standing ramrod straight. His expression twists into something frighteningly placid. He moves with heavy, burdensome motions, as if his bones are made of iron. Stiff, calm, and deliberate, Emmet approaches you with the purposefulness of a train barreling down its tracks. There is only ever one destination. You either reach your stop or crash into violent flames. 

You said what you said because you knew it would hurt him, and maybe Emmet realizes this. Maybe he knows you’re just lying through your teeth, that your words are just virulent falsehoods that you conjured up to protect yourself. Perhaps he can read your shaking hands and fearful eyes and see who you truly are underneath all of the walls you built. But you don’t care. You want to hurt him. You’ve been hurting for a long time.

Emmet is not smiling anymore.

“You’re wrong.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. For the love of Arceus, of course he’s right. There is nothing more debilitating than the truth staring at you dead in the face when all you wanted was to deny its existence in the first place.

If he wasn’t your dad it would hurt less. The feeling of banishment abandonment would be easier to overcome if Emmet was just some guy taking care of you, just some person you lived with. Someone actively trying to forget you would be less painful if they weren’t your dad. You tried to make it less painful to stomach, you really did. You thought that if you said all of these mean things that you could trick yourself into thinking that Emmet didn’t love you, that he wasn’t actually your father. But he is, and he loves you.

A sob rips through your chest like a slashing axe. Your knees hit the tile below you while your hands frantically pull your scarf off your neck. A bolt of lightning lights up the sky, thunder roaring while the windows are pelted with rain. The water is freezing. Waves high and low crash over you, relentlessly pushing you down below the surface. The Cobalt Coastlands give you no mercy. The weight of your lungs drag you do as you see an explosion of violet and ozone crackle through the sky. Basculegion isn’t going to get to you in time—

“NO! No no no, please please leave me alone,” you cry, tears and snot mixing down your face as you fiercely try to hide yourself in the corner of the kitchen.

In a panic, Emmet falls down to your side, gravity pulling him to you rather than the earth. His hands draw you into his chest. Gloved fingers brush over your hair and push your face into the crook of his neck; his other arm wraps around your shoulders securely. He tries to calm you down just like he did in the past.

Emmet’s held you like this hundreds of times and hushed your scattered thoughts just as many. You never liked to cry but Emmet was there when you did. This was a familiar position. It was familiar in the way flowers were familiar at a funeral—in the way that love finds a way to linger without words even when life is sad and sorrowful.

But you are a different person now, and this is not the past.

You start to squirm and shake and push and scream. This man, who told you to your face that he tried to forget you and throw your memory away, now tries to hold you like he’s holding the world. The person who you were supposed to trust more than anyone in the world banished abandoned you to make himself feel better. You feel disgusted, enraged, and hurt.

“I can’t—! Emmet, please, let me go! Oh my Arceus I can't…” Your voice shakes with every word as you try to move out of his grasp. “Please please please, Papa…Papa I can’t breathe. Please let me go, Papa, I can't—!”

Emmet feels his skin pressing into his ribs, pulling and tugging like a taut rubber band. The shock of adrenaline is so recognizable in his blood that he can taste it on the back of his teeth. His pupils blow wide, vision swimming at the edges. Emmet’s jaw opens and his words tumble back inside his throat. It feels as if every droplet of sanity has been siphoned from his body.

Your father notices the lack of your touch before he realizes what’s happening to him. Something is hovering above him, so large and encompassing that it consumes his entire vision. The presence sends waves of despair through his bone marrow and into his lungs, speeding up the pace of his heart to where the fibers nearly tear.

Dusknoir is a Pokémon of many talents, and Emmet knows that if he so much as lifts a finger in your direction that the Pokémon will not hesitate to separate his mind from his skeleton. Though, it’s not like Emmet can move anyway, because the ghost type’s abilities keep him frozen to the floor.

The more you cry the more enclosing the dread feels. Every time Emmet blinks he swears he can see the wispy edges of Dusknoir grow larger and larger, shadowy edges harvesting the essence from the raging storm outside. All you father can see is absence of anything in Dusknoir’s gaping maw on its stomach. Emmet wonders if your Pokémon will swallow him whole.

While he cannot see you directly, the image of you screaming at him to let you go and collapsing into a helix of grief and anguish suffocates the fear in his chest and replaces it with misery. 

Lying on the floor of his own kitchen, Emmet stares at the ceiling and begs to take it all back. He begs to whatever gods may be to take his heart and soul and let him become nothing. Let him dissolve into the storm. Let you never return to him in hopes to save your psyche from the shackles of agony he tied to you. Let him devolve into oblivion, as nihility would be better than whatever this is.

Because, despite being home for the first time in two and a half years, you feel the farthest from him you’ve ever been.

//

ayyyyyy angst my beloved. hope you're alright, strabby!! ily and thank you for being so patient with this <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

I had to take a bath after reading your Emmet and his Hisui’d child.

Had to wash away the sadness, it’s too early in the morning 😭 (it was so good!)

Give that man some happiness, please, let him rest.

- noodle

noodle i love you so much thank you thank you haha but yeah that was an angsty one. i was so proud after writing it bc it took me SO DAMN LONG LIKE OMG. but i have to say that the final line of emmet calling out for you when you don't remember him is my fav bc that shit hurts my angst brain so good

but happiness? arceus knows i specialize in angst, but if the people want happiness, i can give y'all fluff

(eventually,,,if there's a good prompt for it bc i can't think of fluff on my own T_T)

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Hello there, Sunshine!

Semi-Request (?)

Just curious what reunion would be for Sawsbuck and Y/n (Ingo Child) be like? Which emotion would it be? (Happiness, Joy or Sadness)

And also did Sawsbuck stay with Ingo/Emmet place or did they became a wild Pokémon in the tall grass/forest?

(Just curious what happen to Sawsbuck after Y/n went to the hospital or where were they been after Y/n been gone for two and half years/probably more years for Y/n though)

Love your work/writing for Dad Ingo/Ingo Child and I’m excited for Dad Emmet/Emmet Child story’s in the future! And I hope you have a lovely day!

the reunion between the reader and Sawsbuck? i would say Sawsbuck felt overwhelming relief and joy and the reader felt complete awe and surprise. the reader wouldn’t even be able to believe that Deerling evolved, but would still be very happy for their original partner. the reader would be admiring Sawsbuck heavily, giving it lots of affection and compliments while Sawsbuck remains calm and collected, reeling in its own emotions in fear of overwhelming its now traumatized trainer.

 the pokémon would definitely be crying, rubbing it’s face all over the reader’s face, trying to remember its scent after having been missing for so long. before the reader disappeared, Deerling and the reader were inseparable. it was a mutual relationship of learning the world and staying side by side. now, more than ever, Sawsbuck would never want to leave the reader alone. it would follow the reader everywhere like a guardian, protecting and watching over the reader. however, Sawsbuck would still try and get into the bed and cuddle with the reader because it used to do so as a Deerling, but now its much bigger. however, neither the reader nor Sawbuck cares about the lack of room, so they cuddle anyways :)

and for your question about what Sawsbuck did while the reader was gone. after the reader disappeared, the Deerling continued to live with Ingo and then with Emmet once he moved back in with Ingo. over the years, Deerling didn’t get much affection or love from him because Ingo was grieving so heavily and being near Deerling reminded him too much of the missing reader. so, after a while, Deerling ran away into the wild during the fall. it trained out of Nimbasa and on the nearby routes as if it was a wild pokémon. eventually, Deerling evolved and realized that both itself and Ingo were grieving, so it returned home to Ingo in the following spring after having learned so much from being in the wild.

and about the hospital…i imagine that the second the reader appeared from the rift back in nimbasa, Sawsbuck could smell them or sense them again and went full fucking tilt sprinting through the city to find them. i like to think that Sawsbuck forced its way through the hospital following its senses, and honestly Sawsbuck is too majestic and powerful to care what anyone says when they try to force it out. in my mind, Sawsbuck finds the reader’s room on its own and forces itself in because Sawsbuck couldn't give two fucks about anyone other than you and Ingo.

thank you for the message!! <3

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Ngl I’ve been here before, I’ll deem myself noodle for that sake.

But your Hisui’d child series gets my brain working.

Like imagine trying to readapt to life, but it’s not that easy.

The scars that litter their flesh from all the times they risked their life with wild Pokémon, alpha Pokémon, nobles, and GODS! A child doing a grown adults job.

The angst of dad (Ingo or Emmet) seeing some of those and realizing they almost completely lost their child.

Or the PTSD after everything they have been through.

Haxorus letting out a happy roar? Suddenly their child has thrown themselves over and behind the couch like they were dodging an attack. (While the Hisui’d child’s mind went back to fighting that alpha Garchomp.)

Galvantula making sparks out of excitement? Emmet is suddenly yanked back and away from his Pokémon full force, cause his child’s panicked brain went back to wild Luxray’s attacking them.

Just things like that and the twins having to try and help but also sob because just what the hell were you put through? You loved their Pokémon, who made you feel so afraid?

It doesn’t help when their poor child cries, apologizing for acting like that and that they didn’t mean to freak them out.

Mmm angst, truly amazing.(as is your writing)

my dearest noodle,,,,i’ve been watching this specific response in my inbox for SO LONG but now that emmet’s version of the hisui’d!child series has come out, i now feel better to respond to this.

first of all, i wrote and imagined ingo and emmet’s children to have different personalities before and after hisui. for ingo, his child was more responsible, headstrong, and driven pre-hisui and more anxious, apprehensive, and defensive post-hisui. for emmet, his child was more free-flowing, adventurous, and spunky pre-hisui and more aggressive, cold, and weary post-hisui. due to their diverging personalities, i’d say they’d have different reactions to life after returning home to nimbasa.

ALSO!! i mentioned in this post. that ingo’s child’s team post-hisui was walrein, snorlax, vaporeon, clefable, torterra, and hisuian goodra, and that emmet’s child’s team was drapion, infernape, staraptor, garchomp, machamp, and hisuian zoroark. just wanted to throw that out there before i start spitballing some ptsd things

for ingo’s kid:

Chandelure freaks you out. It reminds you of all the malicious ghosts that would come out at night. You try your best to get along with your father’s partner, but when it starts singing to you, you can’t help but summon Goodra to hold you close and drown out the noise, trying not to cry.

(Ingo cries at this because he remembers the times when you were so young and refused to fall asleep unless Chandelure sang you a lullaby.)

You watch your Pokémon play fight with Ingo’s in the backyard, but your heart is pounding out of your chest and you can’t sit still. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen Pokémon battling that wasn’t a serious situation.

Ingo tries to get your Pokémon to relax, but they’re not used to the situation in modern times where Pokémon are normalized to be out and about and intermingling with people. 

They still absentmindedly interpose themselves between you and anyone approaching.

You don’t like sleeping in a separated bedroom anymore, instead opting to sleep on the couch surrounded by your Pokémon. Ingo checks on you in the middle of the night a lot of times, waking up from nightmares of you disappearing again.

Haxorus is a snuggler, and she wants to cuddle you all the time. It’s hard for you, though, when she approaches you with the sharpened axes on her jaw. They remind you of your fight with Lord Cleavor, the scars on your arms from that encounter still remain.

Your Sawsbuck is the calm in the storm. It gets along with your new Pokémon wonderfully. On the days you feel unsafe, Ingo and Sawsbuck are at your sides, soothing you and keeping you close.

Almost every time Ingo watches you get scared, he sees you stand strong and bare it first, but then after the encounter he sees you dissolve into a fearful mess later. There was so much expected of you, and your mind can’t handle the pressure of being strong anymore.

In the middle of a long, exhaustive night where you can’t fall asleep, you lean against Ingo and tell him the story of what it was like to be banished, to be pushed away and unloved. You tell him the awful things people said about you and how alone you felt.

“You’ve never made me feel like that, dad…I missed you so much.”

A lot of times you collapse into tears, unable to put the pain into real words. Ingo cries with you every time. You will never be alone again.

You tell him what it's like to hold the weight of the world.

for emmet’s kid:

Emmet realizes very quickly that you do not like to be touched. You are covered in phantom aches and pains and it's hard to keep track of the injuries that are real and the ones that are not.

You sometimes catch yourself keeping Emmet’s affections at arms length. He’s your father, but the idea of being open again scares you to your core.

Surprises and loud noises are met with immediate fleeing. You’re incredibly agile, diving through door frames and over furniture when you hear the sound of Archeops squawking. She’s an incredibly kind Pokémon, but her call sends you into a frenzy.

Being in a city the size of Nimbasa makes you nervous, even though you lived here your whole life before Hisui. You claim people are watching you at all times, judging you, and Emmet assures you that they’re not.

(If they were to be, however, Emmet is not one to squander his second chance with you, and nobody will hurt you again.)

The Pokémon your birth father gave you do not get along with the Pokémon you kept from Hisui. They fight all the time, and Emmet holds you back every time from interfering. 

Emmet can see how two sides of you are split into two when this happens. Both sets of Pokémon are very strong, and some of them stood beside you as you grew up, and the others stood by your side in your time of need.

You’re hostile. Things that normally wouldn’t bother you set you on edge. You snap and scream and put up walls in an instant.

Some of your new Pokémon still don’t trust Emmet. Your Hisuian Zoroark is the main perpetrator of this; Zoroark does not fuck with Emmet at all. Any misstep your father makes to you, unknowingly or otherwise, and it’s on sight.

After many months of being back home, you tell Emmet about a blond man you met. You don’t say his name, but you tell your father that he manipulated you, acted like you were friends, and then tried to kill you. You tell him about the betrayal you felt and what the pressure of that battle felt like.

“You never pressured me to be strong, Papa…all you ever wanted for me was to be me. I love you so much.”

You rarely ask for hugs, but when you do, Emmet spares no expense in the short time they last.

You tell him what it’s like to be a hero.

i hope these satisfy your cravings for angst, noodle!! ily btw and don’t you forget that <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Emmet's Child Gets Sent to Hisui Alone

it is time for more angst hehehe >:) if you haven’t seen the ingo version of this, it can be found here! sorry this took so long, but this is super long and it’s worth the wait i promise

cw: Mentioned death by illness, grief, unhealthy coping mechanisms

wc: ~7.4k

//

Emmet ▽

Your father was a regular challenger on the double line. He was an experienced trainer who collected all eight gym badges in the Hoenn region as a teenager, but never ended up challenging the Elite Four. So, when he moved to Nimbasa as soon as he was a legal adult, he found himself battling regularly on the Battle Subway.

His skills and knowledgeable team of Pokémon allowed him to battle Emmet almost on the daily. They were incredibly even battlers. The winner depended on luck. 

Your father and Emmet became great friends. They would have long conversations after every battle, just talking about whatever came to mind.

Emmet remembers your father coming down the line one day, blabbing about this date he went on with this girl the night prior.

“Emmet, I know you probably won’t believe me, but she’s the one. I just feel it in my gut, man, I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with her.”

“I am Emmet, and you are right! I don’t believe you. Now, let us battle!”

Well, Emmet was wrong. That girl your father went on that date with? That was your mother.

Nearly every day, Emmet heard from your father about his relationship with your mother. He was so excited for your father–who seemed to be in the happiest state of his life. 

Emmet recalls how giddy your father came into the car one day, around two years after that first date, and said that he had proposed to your mother and that she had said yes.

The Subway Boss didn’t cry at that, he didn’t cry when your father asked that he be a groomsman, but he may have shed a tear or two at the actual wedding…he didn’t tell your father that, however.

Even after marriage, your father would challenge the line. It was part of his routine now and it’s when he saw Emmet, how could he not? 

Sometimes your mother would come in and watch the battles, cheering on her husband. Emmet thought she was an incredible woman, perfectly suited for your father. He could not be more happy that his good friend had found someone so lovely.

Well, actually, Emmet was happier when your father announced that your mother was pregnant.

Emmet couldn’t believe it. He was going to be an uncle! Not a biological one, but still an uncle!

Would your father bring you to the station? Would he bring you to battles in a baby bjorn? How long would it take you to start battling yourself? What is going to be your first Pokémon?

Your father said all those questions would be answered eventually, but they would just have to wait and see.

“I mean, Emmet, what if they don’t even like Pokémon?”

“That is a non-issue. I am Emmet, and will make my future nibling loves Pokémon!”

Safe to say that Emmet was very excited to meet you.

Emmet was sad, however, when your father announced that he would be starting paternity leave around a month before you were due and three-to-four months after you were born. How was he to survive without his favorite challenger?

Luckily, the Subway Boss still got calls and updates about how you and your mother were doing.

Every once and awhile, Emmet would stop by and pick up your father’s Pokémon for some training. They loved Emmet as much as your parents did.

And then you were born.

Emmet was sent some pictures of when you were only a few days old.

How could a person be so tiny? How could you be so cute?

But then, around two months later, the calls and messages stopped.

Emmet could only wait so long for a response. He wasn’t a patient man.

His questions were answered after a week of silence when he received a phone call from Castelia City West-Central Hospital.

Sometimes Emmet wishes he was never curious at all, because maybe then he wouldn’t have to come to the agonizing realization of what had happened.

It was Swinub-Flu season, and this year’s strain was particularly strong. Both your mother and father had contracted the illness.

Turns out your father had a condition that caused him to be immunocompromised, and your mother’s immune system was still very weak after having a baby.

They had to be transported to Castelia City due to how fast the flu was deteriorating their bodies, but even the best of medicine couldn’t save your parents. They had died mere hours apart.

And then there was you.

Emmet knows that your mother was estranged from her family, and he knows that your father left his family in Hoenn for a good reason. So, you had nowhere to go.

How is Emmet supposed to stand by and watch the child he thought he would be an uncle to be sent into foster care? How could he watch the child of two of his, now deceased, closest friends be sent away?

And so, instead of becoming an uncle, Emmet became a father.

You’re barely two months old, still just an infant. He doesn’t know what he is getting into, he doesn't know how to take care of a child so young.

It’s hard at first. Emmet is in love with his job. It brought him so much joy and he spends so much time at Gear Station that he doesn’t know how he’s going to give you enough attention.

Luckily enough, Ingo, who is taking his responsibilities as a new uncle very seriously, covers for Emmet while he goes on paternity leave. He is forced to leave his post, but every glance he steals of your small face reminds him he is doing this for you, not for him, and Emmet would never shirk his duties as your father.

At first, Emmet wants to bring you into the station, but Ingo advises him that you are much too young to do that. Even while he’s on leave, Emmet does a lot of paperwork from home. He wants to be helpful in some way, and this is all he could do at the moment.

But you have to know that the second you are old enough, Emmet starts to sling you in a baby bjorn all around the station.

The people of Nimbasa are surprised to see that Emmet suddenly has a child, but Emmet dismisses all the commotion in the name of your privacy. The world isn’t entitled to know the circumstances behind your existence, they don’t have to know the tragedy that brought you into Emmet’s care.

But Emmet learns very quickly how your birth parents’ presence remains in your lives.

Obviously, Emmet grieves. He grieves your birth parents with a sadness he didn’t know was possible. He cares for them both. They were two of his closest friends who had so much love for each other and now they were gone.

You were born into their overwhelming love, and it still walked beside you every moment.

Emmet took in your birth father’s team of Pokémon after his passing. They are incredibly strong, full of years of training and adventures. But now, instead of choosing to continue down the path of battling, their only goal now is to watch over you.

The Pokémon start to linger around you very early on in your life. Emmet doesn’t instruct them to do that. And, frankly, Emmet doesn’t instruct them to do anything. They don’t listen to him like that because he isn’t their trainer. They aren’t his Pokémon.

They are yours.

Breloom is full of gentle kindness, despite her fighting type. Breloom holds your hand when walking to and from school, swinging her tail back and forth in time with your steps. She is like an older sister, keeping you safe and pointing you in the right direction of things. Her no-nonsense outlook towards you means that she got along great with Emmet, but obviously she loves you more than she loves the Subway Boss.

Crawdaunt is a little demon. As a species, Crawdaunt are difficult to raise and train. They are rebellious, violent, and extremely territorial. Your birth father’s Crawdaunt never abides by what Emmet wants, instead acting like a misbehaved Herdier. He doesn’t like anyone other than the fellow Pokémon in the house, no human is good enough for his good-graces. Except you, of course. Crawdaunt is putty in your palms. He yearns for your attention like a whining toddler, begging to be scratched and soothed by you and you alone.

Ninjask is a clingy bug Pokémon. He likes to snag himself on your back like a backpack or simply rest on your head like an oversized hat. Despite his immense speed, Ninjask has a tendency to laze on you or near you. If you ever leave his sight for so long, Ninjask puts his speed to use and darts around to find you. He’s a spoiled mess, crying loudly until you hold him like a swaddled baby. He is also a very jealous Pokémon, refusing to share your attention when he’s in need of it. The steady buzz of his wings and soft hum of his voice indicate how happy he is to be in your presence.

And finally Dusclops, your birth father’s partner, is your guardian. It is an eerily silent companion, stalking around the world beside you like a warden. Dusclops is a very kind Pokémon, helping those near you who need it, but Dusclops is always yours first and foremost. It never wavers in its task of watching over you, never needing to sleep, never needing to eat, never needing to leave. Your Dusclops is the shadow in every room, the passing flash on every street corner, the dreary echo in the night. Dusclops will watch over you until its spirit drifts from its hollow body. It already lost your parents, it will not lose you.

It is nearly impossible to live in an apartment with Emmet, his Pokémon, Ingo, his Pokémon, you, and all of your birth father’s Pokémon, so Emmet moves into a tall townhouse in a good neighborhood in the center of the city to have more room for you and your team to grow up.

Ingo doesn’t move out of the apartment, and Emmet’s new home is only a short walk away. Emmet isn’t completely separated from his brother, which is a terrifying concept to him, but he now has enough space for you–the newest and most important addition to his life.

Once you are old enough, it’s hard for Emmet to think about tackling the issue of you being adopted. Emmet honestly wants Ingo to tell you, but Ingo smacks Emmet on the back of the head and tells him to suck it up. Emmet is your dad, not Ingo, and it’s his prerogative to have the conversation.

“Little Buddy, we need to talk.”

At the call of your father, you pause mid-swing. You rock Ninjask in your arms, the Pokémon buzzing softly after noticing that you halt your movements.

Emmet’s smile turns into a straight line, an unexpected seriousness splays across his features.

Full of worry, you listen carefully with wide eyes. Those words never mean anything good.

“I’m sorry I did not tell you this before. I truly regret it. I am not your real father.”

You laugh in his face and go back to swinging Ninjask in circles. Emmet blinks heavily at your response.

“What’re you talking about, Papa? Of course you’re my real father!”

Emmet sighs wistfully, not knowing where to take the conversation from here.

“I did not create you. You are not biologically my own. You are adopted.”

Never one to dance around the subject, Emmet rips the bandaid off with the grace of a Tauros in a porcelain shop.

“Well yeah, obviously. I knew that a long time ago.”

How could you know? Nobody’s had this conversation with you, and Emmet never gave any hints to you about your true genetic heritage.

“How did you know? When did you learn? Ingo did not tell you, did he?”

You shake your head. Okay, you must’ve figured it out on your own then, right?

You don’t look like him or Ingo, you look like your dad, you look like you. You are fundamentally different from Emmet in the way children usually aren’t from their biological parents.

“I’ve known since pretty much forever. Dusclops told me a while ago.”

Ninjask tries to reach up his little claws and wipe his teary eyes. With the conversation now on the topic of his original trainer, the bug type Pokémon flies off to hide—gone in the blink of an eye.

You don’t elaborate on your statement, and Emmet is too surprised to ask, but it’s true that Dusclops has conversations with you.

It talks to you a lot about the past. It tells you stories about your birth parents, stories about its travels across Hoenn with your birth father, stories about meeting the other Pokémon and becoming family with them, stories about your birth father moving to Unova and meeting your birth mother, stories about how they treated you and how much they loved you, stories about their passing and how much it destroyed the other Pokémon emotionally, and stories about how amazing Emmet is and how happy the Pokémon are to have him come into your life.

Emmet is your father, and you are his kid. Through and through.

“But I don’t know why that means you’re not my dad. You’re very much my real dad, Papa.”

Emmet ignores the tears in his eyes as he scoops you up in his arms and squeezes you with a strength he didn’t know he had.

His smile beams throughout your home, salty water pouring down his cheeks.

“Yes! Yes, you are right! I’m sorry! I’ve always been your real dad, even if I didn’t make you. Yes yes! I am Emmet and I am your Papa and you are my child!”

So, if you are truly his child, then why couldn’t he expect this to happen?

If he was truly your father, why couldn’t he tell something was wrong faster? 

Emmet chases you through the house with a dusty mop, laughing loudly. In your attempt to escape his attack, you sprint out the front door and down the steps.

Your giggles echo through the downpour of the rain outside. Emmet runs onto the porch, soles stopped on the welcome mat to avoid getting wet.

A shadow that isn’t yours follows your steps along the concrete.

Emmet’s eyes watch you take off down the sidewalk, spinning water droplets off your back. It's a little dark outside, the street lights are on but it isn't late at night yet, but he can still see you a bit before the canopy of water hides you completely.

Your father calls out your name, staying under the awning to avoid getting wet (Ingo would be mad if his brother ruined another pair of socks). The mop dangles from Emmet’s hands, chest heaving from the exercise of having chased you.

The rain is loud, and the sky seems to open up wider to pour down a stronger storm.

A minute or so passes before Emmet realizes he can no longer hear your familiar laugh through the rain.

His arms sag down while his smile wavers. He feels puzzled, looking out to the abandoned streets of Nimbasa.

Suddenly, Emmet has an incredibly strong stomach ache. It feels like getting punched in the gut while paralyzed, unable to prepare for the hit.

His voice feels unsure in his throat.

“Hey! This is verrrry unfunny, kiddo! We still have cleaning to do!”

Emmet calls out again when you don't respond. He’s overwhelmed by an emotion he can’t name. He doesn’t know why he feels this way.

You should be right there. Why aren’t you saying anything?

This time, all he says is your name.

You don’t reply.

Emmet takes a deep, shuddering breath. His lungs ache like he is drowning in the rain, full of suffering and fear.

This time, when Emmet speaks, it comes out softer than a whisper. It is barely a breath off his lips.

“...Dusclops?”

And the ghost type responds with a bellowing, agonizing, haunting sob that reverberates through the storm.

Goosebumps rise on Emmet's skin at the noise, and your father drops the mop and sprints down the street.

When he finds Dusclops, Emmet observes the Pokémon’s catatonic state. The rain shimmers an inch or two off of Dusclops’ bandages, as if an invisible cloak of the afterlife coats the ghost type’s surface.

You are still nowhere to be seen.

Dusclops stands unnervingly still, its sole red eye staring into someplace far away from these rain-soaked streets of Nimbasa.

From the way it’s acting, Emmet doesn’t need to say a word to figure out what happened.

If Dusclops doesn’t know where you were, nobody would.

You're gone.

The preliminary investigation is unsuccessful; so is every subsequent investigation after that.

The Nimbasa Police sweep the area far more times than is necessary. Nearly 24 hours later, as Emmet watches detectives investigate the home, Ingo comes bursting in through the front door.

Ingo is frantic. His voice booms across the living room as he rushes over to his younger brother. Ingo came the second he could, but he had to wait until the station slowed down after rush-hour to come see his brother.

Emmet was no-call-no-show at the station this morning and hadn’t answered a single call or text. Ingo tried to call you as backup, but your phone came up with “caller does not exist” and the texts immediately went to “undelivered.” Full of worry, Ingo ran towards the townhouse as fast as he could.

Can you imagine what he felt when he saw the countless police cars outside?

“Emmet! Where have you been? Why haven’t you been answering your phone? Why are the police—”

Ingo’s hands shoot out and grip Emmet’s shoulders tightly, his voice loud and bleeding with concern. 

“Do not worry, brother! They just went out for a bit. They will be back later.”

“What are you talking about? Who went out? Why are there so many police officers? Who’s coming back?”

Before Ingo can ask another question, he looks and takes in his younger twin’s condition.

Emmet’s eyes are bloodshot and his mouth wobbles in a phony smile. His legs shake where he stood, exhaustion creeping up on him. Dark circles dance under his eyes as his fingers grab at Ingo’s black coat like a lifeline.

Your father answers your uncle’s questions with nothing but the simple statement of your name. Ingo, bewildered, still doesn’t yet understand.

“...are they not here…?”

Emmet suddenly collapses, knees unlocking and grasp sealing on his twin in front of him. Ingo catches Emmet and forces his younger brother’s head into the crook of his neck to hold him.

Ingo silently cries hearing Emmet’s raucous sobs, unable to hold it together seeing his own brother fall apart in his arms. He’s never seen Emmet this distraught.

Things don’t improve from there.

There is no progress on the investigation. Despite the pleads of your father and uncle, there’s nothing anyone can do. The police try all that they can, but it just doesn’t feel like enough.

The brothers enlist Elesa and other friends of theirs to help spread the word and images of you; but, it's no surprise that nothing comes from that either.

Your father then hires a private investigator or four. They’re good, sharp-witted, and renowned in their field. 

None of them find anything. You vanished into thin air, it seems. Despite all of their years of work and experience, your missing persons case is an anomaly.

After a few weeks of no progress, Emmet seems to just…return to normal.

Emmet goes back to the subway like clockwork, helping around the station and following his tasks without wavering. He wears his usual smile all the same, not a bump nor waver in his lips.

Those of Nimbasa who know or care about your disappearance are incredibly perplexed by Emmet’s behavior. After throwing everything that he is into the search for you, Emmet seemingly moves on.

It’s almost unsettling how Emmet acts as if nothing is wrong.

“They just needed some time away. Everyone does. They’re coming back eventually. Am I worried? I am Emmet. I am not worried. They are fine.”

His visage gives no hints towards continuous long nights, no signs of puffy eyes from crying, no remnants of exhaustion or sadness. There’s no clues that point to these things happening because they’re not.

The lack of emotional instability is concerning, but the actions Emmet takes are even more so.

He removes the pictures of you from the wall in his office and hides the trinkets you’ve given him from his desk. His lockscreen becomes a picture of him and Ingo rather than the three of you. Your Pokémon aren’t seen by his side at the station anymore, and Emmet stops talking about you.

It’s as if Emmet is trying to scrub your existence from his life, like he’s trying to detangle your being from his.

When other people bring you up, Emmet simply acts semi-aloof. He pretends to not pick up on the subtle cues they throw, trying to get him to speak about you and the situation.

Anyone who has any sort of perception or basic understanding of trauma responses knows that this is Emmet’s way of coping.

Four of the stages of grief—anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance—are all preceded by denial.

In an odd twist of fate, alongside denying the incident that took you away from him, your father denies your life as a whole.

Ingo, understandably, is enraged at his younger twin for the way he acts.

“How dare you, Emmet.”

“I am Emmet, and you are Ingo. I do not know why you are so mad at me.”

“Just look at what you’re doing!”

Ingo gestures to the box of things Emmet is in the middle of packing. He’s taking out some of the things you left in their shared office.

Books you read, half annotated and covered in sticky notes, are buried under hoodies you forgot and topped by a pair of earbuds you used. There’s a loose art class sculpture in there as well, stuck beside a reusable water bottle covered in stickers.

“I do not see a problem in this.”

Ingo’s face flushes red, hands twisted into trembling fists at his sides.

“How could you do this to your own child?!”

At that, Emmet stands up straight and tall, as if his spine is replaced by a metal rod. With the feeling of all his muscles going taught, Emmet faces his older brother.

“Ingo–”

“You’re abandoning them, Emmet! How dare you abandon someone you said you loved so much!”

Emmet simply shakes his head.

“Brother, you are wrong. I love them. I haven’t stopped. I will love them until they come back.”

As soon as Emmet finishes his sentence, Ingo lunges forth and grips Emmet by the lapels of his white jacket.

“They aren’t here for you to love, Emmet! They’re gone! Missing! And here you are trying to erase everything that they left behind!”

Ingo is screaming, voice bellowing out from the depths of his lungs.

“They’re just away–”

Ingo yells in frustration, gripping Emmet tighter and gritting his teeth.

“Why don’t you get it, Emmet?! They’re not here! And now it seems like you’re trying to get rid of the rest of them too. How can you do this? How can you abandon the memory of your child? What kind of father are you–”

Emmet’s hands lock onto Ingo’s wrists like iron, throwing his brother off with all of his strength. The older twin is sent tumbling back, but remains on his feet.

Both of the Subway Bosses are heaving for air, staring at each other with a foreign animosity.

A beat or two passes, and neither brother makes a move to apologize or reconcile.

The silence is suffocating.

“I…I am—I am-!”

Emmet can’t finish his sentence before landing harshly on his knees, head in his palms as his forehead presses to the linoleum tile.

He screams in frustration, voice tearing with the emotion filling his soul.

Grief is a monster. It is love with no vessel to pour into. 

It consumes him, filling his chest like water, like rain. Emmet is drowning in his love for you, but it has nowhere to go. It chokes him. 

You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here.

Despite the concerns from his brother, Emmet doesn’t change.

Emmet finds it easier to not acknowledge your disappearance at all. It’s easier to not keep track of the days, weeks, months you’ve been missing and instead live life by the minute.

Then, he can pretend like he hasn’t read every fact that tells him that you’re statistically dead.

If he doesn’t have to think about you, doesn’t have to accept the fact you’re going to be gone forever, then he can still hold onto that dim flicker of hope buried deep in his heart.

A year passes, and despite his efforts, Emmet still can’t break the habits and routines that he embedded in himself as a father.

Every Saturday he still makes pancakes with that fruity cereal you and your team loved. Though, this time, he makes servings for one less than normal.

Sometimes on his afternoon break, when he’s disassociating more than usual, Emmet wanders out of the station and along the path he took to get to your school. You’re never there, never walking besides the other hundreds of children when they’re let out for the day.

On the 15th of every month, Emmet still walks into your room and replaces the air freshener he had set up next to your nightstand.

There’s a lot of things that have changed since you’ve been gone.

Your Pokémon don’t interact with Emmet very much anymore.

And, in all honesty, Emmet doesn’t really mind. All he can think about when he looks at them is you, and he rather not think about that.

Ninjask screeches at Emmet any time he enters a room. The bug type refuses to be in your father’s presence. He skitters outside more often than not, escaping through an open window and not returning for days at a time. Emmet wonders if the Pokémon is looking for you. Sometimes Emmet can hear Ninjask solemnly singing in the night. The haunting tune keeps him up for hours on end.

Breloom practically lives in the backyard. She cultivates the small strip of land Emmet owns behind the townhouse. What was once a barren flat section of green is now a wild garden, overflowing with plants, mushrooms, and your favorite flowers. Breloom’s happy disposition is now replaced by seriousness and sadness. Every once and awhile, the Pokémon approaches someone on Emmet’s team for a hug. Usually Eelektross is the one who provides comfort. Breloom never asks Emmet for anything. Emmet doesn’t know if he has it within himself to give the Pokémon the happiness it deserves.

Crawdaunt all but monopolizes your room from Emmet. As a species, Crawdaunt are extremely territorial. The water Pokémon refuses to allow anyone into your space except the other Pokémon that were in your care. He snaps his claws if Emmet so much as touches the doorknob. The only exception is the 15th of every month; but, even then, the Pokémon doesn’t let your father linger. Emmet never wants to, anyway.

Dusclops confines itself to the four walls of your bedroom. The ghost Pokémon never leaves, never wavers, never moves. It tries to linger in the place overflowing with your influence, as if trying to grasp onto the last remaining wisps of you. Emmet swears he can feel Dusclops watching him from the shadows around the house, but the Pokémon has made it quite clear that it does not care about Emmet’s condition in the slightest. At this point in its long, incessant, never-ending life, Dusclops feels nothing. It lost you. What’s the point of continuing this second life if you’re not here?

Despite all that Emmet does to ignore you, he can’t seem to move from the townhouse. He’s done so much to try and keep your memory from tormenting him, but he thinks moving homes would sever the tie from him to you forever.

Emmet’s mental state doesn’t improve from the constant denial of your absence.

Sure, in the first few months, not thinking about you allowed him to suppress the initial pain. It was his body’s immediate defense mechanism to protect itself from harm.

But, after a long time, the denial doesn’t work anymore.

A year and a half later, the sanity in Emmet's continued denial starts to slip. While the public’s forgotten about you, they catch on to the decay of your father’s wellbeing.

Emmet throws himself into work like never before.

His overtime hours pile up, flying through the roof. Despite earning salary pay, he gets awarded a bonus he didn’t know existed for his extra work.

He works through breaks, battles more trainers, directs more passengers, comes in early, stays in late, picks up extra paperwork, and pulls the slack left behind by some depot workers. Emmet does everything and more.

Ingo knows what’s happening to Emmet more than anyone else.

He can see his younger brother’s pallid skin and sunken cheeks, eyes catching on the looser fit of his clothes. Ingo watches from across his desk as his brother’s head sways and how his eyelids droop.

Ingo can see that Emmet isn’t sleeping right, that Emmet isn’t eating right. Ingo knows that Emmet is overworking himself.

The more time he spends thinking about work, the less time Emmet spends thinking about you. The less he sleeps, the fewer nightmares he has. The less he eats, the less he imagines you sitting across from him eating the same thing.

Ingo knows Emmet is a stubborn man. No amount of petty arguments will change Emmet’s views.

But, when Emmet’s legs give in and he nearly passes out onto the tracks mid-shift, Ingo knows enough is enough.

A week or so after passing out, Emmet goes to work like any other. But, even in a diminished mental state, Emmet can tell something’s going on.

Depot agents that usually didn’t approach him greet him as he walks by. Some of them go out of their way to give him a smile and wave before going back to work diligently.

Despite their kindness, Emmet feels odd about it.

He eventually reaches his and Ingo’s private office. It’s in one of the best locations in the subway. Here it’s quiet, secluded, and safe.

Opening the door, Emmet makes eye contact with both Elesa and Ingo. While he doesn’t expect Ingo to be smiling, Elesa’s lack of a grin rubs Emmet the wrong way.

“I am Emmet, and you are Elesa. What are you doing here? I am surprised you are not busy.”

Emmet’s question sounds happy. He has a grin on his face seeing that one of his good friends has made time for a surprise visit, but they’re not smiling back at him.

“I just really wanted to talk with you, Emmet. Can you shut the office door and come sit down over here?”

From that, Emmet goes on edge.

He obliges, but it’s obvious to see that Emmet is tense. He moves to sit in front of his brother and Elesa, but he moves far too stiffly to be feeling comfortable.

Emmet takes a seat in his desk chair that’s been pushed back from his actual desk. Ingo and Elesa are leaning against it, not sitting and staring downwards at Emmet.

Ingo clears his throat, but can’t seem to speak. He glances at Elesa for help. She nods and speaks plainly.

“We need to talk about them, Emmet.”

The air seemingly fills with static, your father’s hair standing on end. He can feel his heart jumpstart and speed up.

“Who are you talking about? Who’s them?”

Ingo feels like Emmet knows the answer already, but responds with your name anyway.

Emmet doesn’t react at all. Not shifting, not moving, not speaking, just…nothing.

“We’re really, really concerned about the way you’re processing their…absence.”

Elesa speaks gently, dancing around the subject. This conversation is uncomfortable for both sides, but it is necessary.

“You’re unhealthy, Emmet. You aren’t taking care of yourself and your body is reaping the consequences of your lack of self-care.”

“I am Emmet and I am fine.”

Emmet’s voice is tight and sharp. He doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt if you keep acting like this. You haven’t truly grieved them, Emmet, and look what that’s doing to you.”

“Who am I supposed to grieve? Nobody I know is dead.”

Elesa’s face twists into something mournful, a few rogue tears prickling in her eyes.

“Emmet…you can’t keep doing this…”

Ingo’s voice cuts in where Elesa fails.

“It’s been two years. Acting this way does no good for anyone, and you know they would be incredibly unhappy if they knew you were acting this way.”

Emmet forcefully shoves himself up and out of the chair, brows furrowed and fists shaking at his sides.

“You are both being verrrrry mean right now.”

“It’s because we care, Emmet! We care about you so much and we want to see you happy again.”

Elesa moves to grab Emmet’s sleeve, but he yanks his arm away from her grasp before she can touch him.

“I am leaving now.”

As Emmet turns to the door, he sees Ingo’s Haxorus standing there blocking the exit.

The Pokémon is physically imposing, but it looks down at Emmet with overwhelming sadness, shaking its head as Emmet attempts to maneuver around it.

“You can’t keep running away from this, Emmet. You can’t keep denying what happened.”

“Be quiet, Ingo!”

Ingo’s taking a more direct approach while Elesa treads the unstable waters carefully. She doesn’t want to upset Emmet even more, but Ingo is desperate for his brother to get better to the point he will say whatever Emmet needs to hear, even if he doesn’t want to hear it.

“We’re just trying to help you. We all wish they were here right now, you’re not alone in that.”

“I don’t need your help! There is nothing wrong with me!”

 Elesa takes a step back, rubbing her teary eyes. She misses you greatly, and watching one of her closest friends self-destruct hurts her even more.

“We all miss them, Emmet, it’s okay.”

Emmet scrubs at his eyes, voice growing rocky and legs feeling unsteady.

He pulls down his hands and looks straight at his brother and friend, smiling pulling unnaturally wide in an attempt to feign indifference.

“There is nobody for me to miss, Elesa—”

“They’re gone, Emmet! They’re gone and they’re not coming back!

Emmet gasps at Ingo’s words as if his brother had punched him in the gut.

He can feel it, the rain filling his lungs and the world closing around him.

“Don’t say that! They will! I know they will!”

Seeing Emmet acknowledge you, Elesa steps forward with Ingo.

“They’re gone, Emmet.”

She repeats Ingo’s words in a calmer voice, but Emmet seems to become all the more erratic.

“No…no t-they can’t be…they can’t…”

Emmet’s heaving for air, fist gripping the clothes right above his heart with all of his strength. He’s now staring at the floor, not being able to look Ingo or Elesa in the eyes.

“Emmet–”

“STOP IT! STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!”

Emmet bursts into sobs, and Ingo is close enough to lunge forward and catch his younger brother before he hits the floor.

Ingo and Emmet curl into each other’s hold on the ground of their office, Emmet’s emotions leaving him unable to stand.

Elesa joins them, wrapping her arms around both of the brothers and slowly rubbing her hands up and down their backs to calm them.

This time, Ingo doesn’t cry. This isn’t about him. It’s about Emmet. It’s about you.

Eventually, Emmet’s cries turn into whispers, then whimpers, and then into nothing.

He feels the comfort of Ingo’s hand rubbing over his head, keeping him safely held against his older brother’s shoulder.

The silence is broken by Emmet’s shuddering inhale.

“I am Emmet and my child is dead.”

And so, after two years without you, Emmet finally starts the grieving process.

The years of denying your absence had torn him apart. Multiple of Emmet’s relationships soured and he didn’t care. But now, he was in a better place to try and fix them.

Slowly, but surely, Emmet starts to follow the stages of grief with his friends and family at his side.

After denial comes anger.

Emmet’s angry at himself. He’s angry that he wasn’t able to stop you from disappearing dying, he’s angry he wasn’t able to find you, and he’s angry that he tried to remove your memory from his.

But most of all, he’s angry that something took you away from him.

Emmet doesn’t understand why he hasn’t realized this sooner, how he didn’t hyperfixate on this fact earlier.

Something or someone had stolen you from his life, ripped you out of his grasp to take for themselves. How dare they.

Emmet is irate. His rage fuels him like coal in an engine, heart and mind barreling down the tracks to a destination unknown. What’s at the end of it? Closure? Revenge? You?

There are never enough answers.

However angry Emmet becomes, Ingo and Elesa are there to pull him away from an all-consuming frenzy. They calm him down, help him process his emotions, help him understand that this anger is helpful to no one.

Two and a half years after you went missing died, Emmet finds himself in the bargaining stage of grief.

This is when Emmet notices that he has so much left to do, so much left to learn.

He’s trying to get his act straight, as if that would somehow make up for all the time he spent being awful after your disappearance death.

Regret is something he feels on the daily now. The shame and anxiety of it all leaves your father struggling to get out of bed some days, but he rises all the same.

And suddenly, while simultaneously begging to Arceus to acknowledge your life, Emmet becomes stronger.

He uses the negative emotions as fuel, feeling the bad and turning it into something positive.

Emmet is alert, on top of his game, on top of his life after what’s been a long, long, two and half years.

In a refreshed state of mind, Emmet is quick to realize that something is off about the storm going on outside.

It’s more than simple thunder and lighting, it’s spiraling, all-consuming, and alive.

Standing inside the station above ground, even through the torrential rain, Emmet can hear something in the atmosphere rip and tear in two. 

The clouds turn from their murky grays and become something violet, indigo, and aegean.

Citizens of Nimbasa flood past the doors of Gear Station like the tide, drenched, screaming, and scared. Emmet stands in the middle of it all, the coastline withstanding the waves.

“Something came out of the sky!”

“It’s coming for us!”

“This is Arceus punishing us for all our sins!”

In the midst of everything, a middle-aged woman grips Emmet by his arm.

He can feel her shaking through his coat, quivering in fear. Her hair is soaked and sticking to her face.

“Subway Boss Emmet! Please, you have to protect us, you’re one of the strongest trainers in Nimbasa and this thing, whatever it is, is going to hurt us! I’ve heard about the beasts in Alola, please don’t let this be the same!”

The lady runs off before Emmet can reply.

From the outside streets, people come rushing past Emmet and flee into the tunnels underground and away from the downpour.

Suddenly, Emmet is the only one in Gear Station.

Like a statue or a talisman of strength and protection, Emmet stands tall with his partner’s Pokéball in hand. Eelektross’ capsule almost hums with energy in his palm.

The tearing noise of the odd distortion stirs again, and then all the misplaced color is gone from the sky and the sound is no more. However, the weather still rages.

A figure walks forward through the open doors of Gear Station.

“Hello there, passenger! Everyone entering must follow the safety checks. You are scaring the other passengers. Everyone must feel safe before the train can depart!”

And there it is, the thing the people said came from the sky. It walks with heavy, strong strides, a silhouette shrouded in mystery.

By now, Emmet can tell that it's the shape of a person.

The lightning outside strikes fervently, without remorse, as if trying to light the city on fire. Thunder booms across the open and empty lobby, blending in with Emmet’s voice.

Then, the mask of darkness is finally lifted.

Drenched in rain, backlit by the storm, you walk into the mouth of Gear Station two and a half years later.

Your clothing clings to your skin. It looks as if it was made for you, the garbs of blue and white. A sole red scarf dangles from your neck, torn and battered by a land that is far away in distance and time from here.

From rain you left and in rain you did return.

Eelektross’ ball hits the tile because Emmet is already running straight for you, body unfaltering and determined.

Emmet’s voice is stolen from his throat. He tries to call your name, tries to say anything, but it all comes out in a pathetic croak. After all this time, what is there to say?

Had his praises to Arceus been heard? Had the creator of all things decided that he had suffered enough? Whatever the reason is, Emmet would kneel and express his thanks for centuries.

If you recognize him, you shake the doubtful thoughts from your head, dislodging a few tears in the process, and start running.

“Papa…!”

When you finally collide, centuries of distance are forgotten in an instant. All that remains is longing, runion, and love.

Emmet all but tackles you to the ground, grasping you in his arms and holding you so very tightly. It’s as if he’s trying to absorb your very being into his, trying to make up for all the lost time and filling the nothingness that you left.

You allow yourself to be held, wrapping your arms around your father just as fervently. You can’t imagine ever wanting to let go again, ever wanting to remain out of his sight.

He pushes his face into your hair and weeps. Emmet never thought he’d hear your voice again, never thought he'd see you again, never thought he’d hold you again.

You’re alive, and that is more than Emmet ever thought could be possible.

“I am Emmet and I am your Papa and I have missed you!”

If you don’t recognize him, you steal yourself and take a deep breath, staring ahead as Emmet runs towards you.

Just like Beni taught you, you use Emmet’s momentum against him, twisting his grasp off of you and throwing him to the ground.

Emmet rolls across the tile roughly, breath getting knocked out of his lungs in the process. He scrambles to get up, but you’re already backing away from him.

“I wouldn’t think about trying that again, stranger.”

You threaten him, voice cold and impersonal. There is nothing warm about you, nothing happy, nothing loving.

Emmet watches as you slowly shuffle away, and at the sight, he can’t even bring his legs to stand.

Your eyes are soulless and your words like poison. You stare at him like an abused Pokémon trapped in a corner, not a trusting nor forgiving ounce left in your body.

Emmet scrambles in your direction, hand reaching out desperately to any part of you that might still remember him.

“What? I don’t understand! I am Emmet and I am not a stranger—wait…! No! Please don’t leave me again!”

//

ty for 100+ follower btw!! not deserved but whatevs i'll take what i can get hehe reposts, likes, and comments all appreciated, i rlly do love hearing all of your guys' thoughts!!

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Hi, sunshine!!

If you're alright with it, can I request something hurt/comfort for my best boi Laventon please? I was thinking something along the lines of illness or injury and the scare of the reader not pulling through, that sort of thing! I leave the specifics up to you!

Thank you so much, lovely!! (and if this isn't your vibe, feel free to ignore it!)

Lavender & Gray—Laventon x Reader Hurt/Comfort

strabby…strabby i dont think you understand…hurt comfort IS my vibe. it’s like the perfect definition of my vibe. so here’s a short story for you instead of headcannons bc i was tired to doing a bullet list format lmao ily <3

wc: ~3k

//

This survey was supposed to be easy.

You know the Obsidian Fieldlands like the back of your hand. The curves of the riverbanks and the imperfections of every stone are buried somewhere in your thoughts, easily accessible by glancing at the land. You’ve walked every path, drank from every pond, and rested under every tree. You belonged to this area as much as you belonged to the earth, you belonged here more than you belonged to Jubilife.

But you always had a soft spot for the Obsidian Falls. The Gyarados that swam through the skies like the Magikarp in the water below always caught your eye. There have been far too many times where you perched on the highest rock in a moment of respite, watching the Gyarados soar. Though, one of those times, you saw a Gyarados as red as the rising sun.

And so, with your inquisitive lover at your side, you head to Obsidian Falls once again in hopes to catch a glimpse of the crimson Gyarados.

It’s later in the afternoon, the colors of the sunset not yet inking the heavens. Every step you take is purposeful and knowledgeable. You know what’s coming up next, which areas to avoid and where to look. 

Though, you hadn’t expected the rocks underneath you to give away.

Your mind doesn’t have the time to focus on anything before you hear the snap of your satchel, your heart dropping to your stomach. The sound of everything you own hitting the water and sinking deafens your ears. It’s so resounding that you almost don’t even feel your back hitting the jagged rocks below you. 

There’s a stinging in your lungs, heaving and tight after the air evacuated you on impact. Breathing produces a prickly burning sensation, but you’re too delirious to tell that you’re even doing that in the first place. Your throat is gulping air like water, but it never satiates you like you hope it would.

Then, your vision goes spotty and dark, flashing between reality and unconsciousness. Drifting on the edge of sentience, you try to understand what’s in front of you to ground yourself. You don’t know what you’re looking at—you don’t even remember if you could see in the first place. 

You hear someone calling for you, desperate and scared. Their voice consumes every inch of you, but their words don’t land. It’s all garbled, syllables oozing through the confusion but adding to nothing.

You’ve forgotten who you came here with. In fact, you don’t even know where here is. All you know is that you’re staring at the sky, infinitely open, massless, and vast. Its shade of blue mocks you, laughing at your small, sorry self. Warmth seeps into your back, distracting you from the taste of iron in your throat. You wonder if the sky will swallow you whole.

Laventon’s shaky hands gripping your tunic sway your eyes to his. The roar of the waterfall beside you steals your attention for a second, and your lover’s fingers squeeze you tighter. His speech gets louder. You don’t know what he’s saying.

“…please stop yelling,” your voice doesn’t sound like your own.

“I-I’m sorry, dearest! But I’m just very…very scared for you right now,” Laventon’s words tremble like his hands. “I’m…I’m trying to see where you’re injured—! So, just, please…please keep looking at me and be still.”

His hands try to examine the damage done to you, but he’s so worried about adding to your pain. You do what he asks and stare at him, not moving a muscle. You’ve always known his eyes are a pale shade of lavender, but, for the first time, you see that they’re speckled with gray. You smile. Red licks at the back of your teeth.

Laventon softly prods at your back that’s against the rocks. You don’t flinch. The Professor pulls away when he feels his fingers coated in fresh blood. It’s warm. He wants to throw up knowing it’s from you. Even though he studies Pokémon more than people, Laventon still knows that something is very wrong.

He stares at his palms, and all that reflects back at him is slick scarlet. The breath he was taking halts in his lungs. “O-Oh…oh no…I-I have to get you back to Jubilife! But, oh Arceus, I don’t know h-how I’m going to do that!”

For a moment, you still don’t grasp the situation. Laventon is mumbling to himself, unintelligible to you. You can’t follow his lips because you’re still looking at his eyes. They aren’t looking back at you. In the midst of his downward spiral, the Professor grasps your closest hand with both of his, leaning his forehead against your knuckles.

It’s the first time you look away from Laventon since he asked. The blood on his hands drips from his palm down your wrist, a lone trail consisting of only one droplet. Something in your body tells you the blood is yours. It feels foreign on your skin.

Suddenly, you are acutely aware of everything around you.

Like a torrential wave, all the pain rushes through you at once. It fills all the crevices it should’ve been in the first place, carving room for itself in your soul. 

A whimpering gasp leaves your lips. You can feel the craggy rocks in your body, invading you like a tumor. They pierce through the skin of your back and lodge themselves in your torso. If you had fallen a few more feet to the side, you’re sure you’d be seeing jaded stones uprising through your stomach. You should count yourself lucky.

At that thought, you nearly laugh. Lucky. Well, that’s certainly not the term you would use.

“Laventon,” you say, and his eyes snap to yours. “You’re going to have to go back to Jubilife.”

“What?!” 

His grip tightens around your hand, but you don’t have the heart to tell him that it hurts. The pain is inconsequential in the scheme of things, however. 

“I can’t move, Lav, and you can’t move me from here either,” your lungs deflate, sentence dying in your throat. You have to pause and catch your breath. “I’m…I’m stuck.”

Laventon’s eyes widen. “You…my love, are you saying you…are you saying you want me to leave you?”

You squeeze his hands in confirmation. Laventon doesn’t want to acknowledge how weak your grip is, how fleeting your strength is becoming. You feel like you’re dying. You probably are.

“Just for a little while,” you say. The lie blends in with the taste of blood. You don’t want him to leave, but he has to. “You need to go get help, right?”

Laventon doesn’t reply, eyes becoming glassy. His gaze stares through you. The silence is as clear and crystalline as silver but as definitive as liquid gold. It folds its way through the jaded rocks, swimming underneath the dirt, flying through the water, and spinning in the sky. It’s everywhere, all at once. It's much, much quieter now. And, beside the roar of a waterfall, neither of you say anything.

Professor Laventon doesn't want to remember the last time he was this scared. Maybe the reality is that he never has. Despite the lawlessness of Hisui, he’s never been afraid for his life—but now he’s afraid for the state of yours. He feels the fear behind his eyes and in his chest, growing on him like mold.

No, fear is too weak of a word. But, what is stronger than fear? Despair? Cowardice? Dread? What is unsaid and stronger than a word containing only four letters? How deep in the human soul does one have to dig to find the source of something this terrifying? This awful, festering, rotting emotion is carved of stone and blood, bone and marrow. Why is it here? Why now? Why you?

There are never enough answers.

“Yes,” Laventon finally says, gasping for air like a drowning man. “Yes, of course…I am, I am going to get you help.”

The iron on your tongue stops you from laughing. You smile instead. It’s your attempt at reassurance, but by Laventon’s reaction to your failing voice, you know it doesn't work. “It’s going to be hard…I don’t have, I don’t—I don’t have any Pokémon who can, who can help you.”

Laventon’s swallows thickly. That’s…that’s right. He saw your satchel fall into the river, Pokéballs and Celestica Flute sinking with it. His stomach lurches. He would truly be all alone out there. But, then again, you would be all alone here. And that is so, so much worse.

He needs to get to Grandtree Area. It’s the closest area with any people, and Lian would be able to help him get back to Jubilife. The Worn Bridge was too far away, and even from there the walk to Heights Camp was unmanageable for someone without any Pokémon. It would be too late into the night before he got back. You would…by then you would be–

“L-Laventon, please look at me.”

The blood is hot on your back, sticking to your clothes. No matter how temperate it is, the cool stones beneath you seep the warmth from your body. The earth is so, very cold. 

“Be strong, okay?”

Laventon slowly releases your hand. “A-Anything for you.”

The Professor is unsteady on his feet as he stands. His gaze locks onto you, wiping his shaking hands on his pants. He’s so frazzled that he forgets it's not sweat coating his palms, but instead something much worse. Laventon’s heart drops to the ground as he forces his knees to lock so he doesn’t fall over. The heels of his palms press deeply into his eyes. He’s trying to stop any emotion from overtaking him.

It takes all of his effort to walk away from you, but he has to. He knows you can’t move, pierced on the rocks of a small precipice on the side of a mountain. He has to go. He has to move. He doesn’t want to.

His legs feel stiff, shoes full of lead. By now, the smell of your blood lingers in the air. Red leaks into the crevices of the rubble around you, staining the stone. The scent of iron will remain here until the next rainfall, and maybe even longer than that. After a few steps, Laventon turns his head back to you. Tears dance down his cheeks. You look pale. 

The Professor rushes back to your side, landing unceremoniously on his knees. His mouth wobbles in a frown, quivering tremendously. The quick inhale he takes through his nose is sharp, as if running out of air. More dewiness prickles in the corners of his eyes and he looks down at you, feeling emotions he cannot name stake claim over his heart. His hands are visibly shaking as he reaches out to you, cradling your face for a moment.

He grasps the top of his familiar purple beanie and pulls it off. The recognizable softness of the Wooloo fur grounds him for a moment. Knitted clothing like this was commonplace back home in Galar; but Laventon knows now, more than ever, that a singular person is his home. It was never a place. But soon, it might not exist at all.

He pulls the cap onto your head, and for a moment, everything is alright. It looks like it was made for you. Laventon cradles your face once again, leaning down and pressing the lightest of kisses to your lips. He feels softer than anything you’ve ever felt. You wonder if this is truly the end.

The fingers on his hands continue to tremble, tongue growing two sizes too big while his throat itches for relief. It’s hard to form words at first, but Laventon forces himself to speak anyway. He has to.

“Stay warm.”

You swear you could memorize the curves and swirls of his fingerprints if he’d only just hold you longer. That’s all you could ever ask for. But you don’t. There’s not enough time. There never is.

Laventon’s right there, inches away from you. Your body feels lighter, numbness starting at your toes and creeping up your legs. This feeling could be described as serene. You hate it. Speckles of your blood linger on his hands. Despite your better judgment, you want him to stay, want him to keep holding you so devotedly. You’d do anything, even if it led back to this situation every time—the one where you’re so very sleepy and your blood soaks into his knees—as long as he stayed, just for a little bit longer. You wonder if this is the last time you’re ever going to see him again.

There are tears in his eyes, but all you can see in this snapshot of your life is lavender and gray.

“Anything for you.”

♤ ♧ ♡ ♢ 《 ✹ 》 ♢ ♡ ♧ ♤

Your fingers are cold.

That’s the first thing you realize when you come to consciousness. Now that you think about it, your entire top layer of skin is covered in chills. The cold is more of a discomfort than anything, nothing truly debilitating. Maybe cold isn’t the right word to use, indifferent would fit the situation better, wouldn’t it? At least you’re not—

Wait, that’s not…right. Why are you shaking? You don't know why you’re shaking, you don’t know when you started shaking. Bubbling unease burrows itself into your mind, twisting your heart and spirit and causing your body to quiver. Your breaths are heavy, creaking in your lungs.

There are rocks etching themselves into your spine, hacking their way through your vertebrae and replacing them one by one. From the earth you came, to the earth you will return. You look up and see the stars, blinking back at you under a hollow black sky. Water rushes loudly somewhere around you. You know exactly where you are.

You haven’t moved in hours, days, months, years. You’ve lived lifetimes laying here, laying still, laying alone. Every sunrise and sunset gave you their attention, greeting you and saying goodbye. It was the only company you ever had. Centuries flashed before your eyes and nothing changed, the sun still rose and the sun still set. Hello, good morning. Goodbye, good night.

Obsidian Falls locks its twisted, jagged fingers around your form and refuses to let go. For a moment, you think that it loves you. You think that it holds you here in an attempt to keep you, in an attempt to take you for itself. You want to feel wanted.

You laugh. The Obsidian Fieldlands do not love you. The Obsidian Fieldlands do not love anything.

The emptiness in your soul sings to you, whispering to you the tales of your loneliness. It tells you how your blood tasted and how your heartbeat was its favorite song. You've never had a favorite song, maybe if you did you wouldn’t be here. You miss the sun. You’re going to die.

It takes a few blinks from your heavy eyelids, but this time, you actually wake up.

You bring up your hand to obstruct the rays of light from piercing your eyes. Still, they flit through your fingers carelessly, as if ignoring the action altogether. The warmth brushes over your ear and down your neck, resting on your collarbone. It’s early in the day, maybe. The sun greets you good morning.

Sunshine bounces off the pink carpet, passing by the pink curtains and peaking over the wooden divider. The Medical Corps Office was always relaxing, if not mundane. You wonder where Pesselle is.

The hands gripping your arm are hot, skin searing yours. Even in sleep, Laventon’s fingers refuse to unlatch from you. His determination makes your lips twitch upwards. All you can focus on is the movement behind his eyelids and the rise and fall of his chest. The connection from him to you leaves you sweltering.

When love meets heartache it creates fire. Maybe you were always meant to burn.

He feels more alive than you’ve ever felt in your whole life.

“I love you, Applin,” you say, repeating the name Laventon always called you. Your fingers from your free hand trail lightly over his hair, the waves and curls so familiar to you. Sometimes you wonder why he hid so much of his beauty under the beanie.

“I thought you were going to die,” you hear him whisper, not entirely lucid. He always murmured in his sleep, sometimes about Pokémon, sometimes about Jubilife. Often about you. “That was…very mean of you…”

Laventon’s words blur together like cursive, letters and syllables following each other with dips and slopes. His fingers aren’t nearly as tight on your arm anymore, but he shifts into you more, head resting on your leg.

“I promise I didn’t mean it.”

Your palm slides from his hair and catches the round of his cheek. Laventon unconsciously tilts towards your touch.

“I…I don’t know what I’d do without…you,” he whispers, and your name falls from his lips like rain does clouds. “That is…far too horrible…to imagine.”

You hear footsteps from around the Galaxy hall, but all are outside the room. You don’t feel nearly as lonely this time.

“I would come back from the dead for you,” you mumble, voice softer than a Wooloo’s fur.

Even in sleep, Laventon’s mouth quivers into a smile. His lips are barred with the bashful glee of fondness and adoration. In his grin lies an emotion so fragile and tender that speaking it into the world would shatter it. 

“You would…?”

You hum in quiet agreement as your lover’s eyes blink open. He stares at you not as if you’d hung the stars for him, but as if you made them. Laventon’s eyes spell out the stories of all the novels he could write about you, pages and ink held together by only a thin, red thread. He could write about you until his hands stopped working, or speak about you until his lungs gave out. To him, you are everything beautiful, bright, and warm. 

And from the way his eyes of lavender and gray shimmer back at you, you know that he is yours as much as you are his.

“Of course. Anything for you.”

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Helllooo there!! I wanna rq a ingo & Emmett with a s/o who has a legendary? like any legendary (victini, dialga, palkia, articuno etc..) idrc what legendary I just want s/o to be very op :D

Ingo and Emmet x Champion!Reader w/ a Legendary

thank you for your patience mikki!! i love making the reader character OP so i’ll take every opportunity to do so…so in that case you now have a mega evolving legendary AND you’re the champion of a region :D (if anyone says that diancie is a mythical and not a legendary, i’ll go off istg) also, by writing this, i fell in love with diancie so tysm for making me appreciate a new pokemon!!

word count: ~1.3k for Ingo, ~1.6k for Emmet

//

Ingo ▲

Ingo wasn’t expecting an invitation to the Pokémon World Tournament. Usually only gym leaders were invited, but he received a notice with his name on it all the same.

Turns out, Roxie had an amazing opportunity to play a gig in Galar, so she had to pull out of her spot and they needed a replacement. While they couldn’t find another poison-type specialist, Ingo had a Garbodor. Apparently that was good enough for the tournament’s board.

Looking at the bracket, Ingo recognized many of the names: Marlon, Cheren, Lenora…but there was a name that stood out. It was the name of the trainer he’d be facing in the first round.

The name bounced around his head, never landing on a face or a title. He didn’t have the opportunity to search the internet to find out who it was because his team was prodding him, anxious to battle.

Before he knew it, Ingo was walking onto the stage, surrounded by screaming fans.

He was a Unovan native, and the proximity between Driftveil and Nimbasa meant he was very well known here. The crowd cheered him on during his entrance.

But the crowd deafened him for yours.

There you stood across from him, the lights shimmering around your form. A steely frown sat on your face, eyes unwavering from his. It was as if you were trying to intimidate him.

It was working.

Of course, how could he forget your name? You were the infamous Champion of Kalos, the one who breezed through the region in two weeks. You had flown through all eight gyms in twelve days, taking a day’s rest before fighting the Elite Four and Champion back-to-back-to-back-to-back-to-back.

Turns out, you trained for years before ascending to Champion’s status. You were an Ekans lying in the grass, waiting for the perfect time to snap.

And so, the second you pulled out Diancie, the famed bejeweled legendary, Ingo knew this would be difficult.

Fairy types weren’t common in Unova, but Ingo was smart enough to know that Poison was super effective against it. He summoned Garbodor from its capsule, thinking he could get the upper hand.

However, after seeing Diancie Mega Evolve, Ingo knew he was mistaken.

Diancie ended the battle in three turns—one attack for each of his Pokémon. He didn’t stand a chance.

When Ingo tried to approach you in the center of the field to congratulate you, you just gave a simple nod at him and walked away. He was so busy staring at your legendary that he didn’t notice that your expression hadn’t changed. You looked practically emotionless.

Ingo ended up staying the rest of the tournament despite his epic crash-and-burn in the first round. You won the tournament soundly.

Now that he thought of it, he doesn’t know if he saw you use a single Pokémon other than Diancie. She was just that strong.

He wanted to approach you and ask about your team and how you trained them to take Kalos by storm, but there was so much commotion afterwards around your presence that he didn't bother.

Was he disappointed he didn't get to speak to you? Yes, but you were a revered Champion. Trainers like you don’t bother with people like him.

He should consider himself lucky to even have battled you—especially since it was under such odd circumstances.

As Ingo walked across Driftveil Drawbridge back to Nimbasa, he heard the shuffling of footsteps behind him.

“Diancie, please wait—!”

Ingo turned around to see you and Diancie running at him. Well, in all honesty, Diancie levitated quickly in his direction and pulled you along.

From the looks of it, you seemed to have no say in this action.

Upon reaching him, Diancie released your sleeve and spun behind Ingo. Her small hands then shoved him forward with a surprising amount of strength.

He’s sent stumbling into you, hands gripping your shoulder while yours found the fabric of his coat in an attempt to stay upright.

“Ah, dear Champion! I give you my sincerest apologies. Are you alright?”

Ingo’s silver eyes landed on your flustered expression. Your mouth quivered in embarrassment and you struggled to form a sentence.

“I, umm…I tried, well—Diancie, she, I didn’t mean…I’m so sorry!”

You released Ingo and stepped back. Heat flowed through your cheeks, completely embarrassed at the situation.

After hearing a soft cry from Diancie, you whip your head towards your legendary Pokémon. She’s holding onto Ingo’s arm and trying to tug him closer to you. You feel mortified.

“Diancie, what are you doing?”

You hissed the words through your teeth, but Diancie paid no mind to your scolding. Instead, she grinned at you brightly.

‘Trainer, look at this one! He’s perfect for you, trust me!’

Sometimes you loved Diancie’s telepathy, sometimes you didn’t. This was the latter.

Diancie had tried to set you up on dates in the past, but you were never good with people. Every one of these interactions left you red and flustered.

“Do not worry over this, Champion. I am very grateful to be in the presence of you and such a powerful and illustrious Pokémon.”

You nearly do a double take. How long has it been since someone put up with your stammering? Put up with your lack of charisma?

“Oh…I, well…”

“I am also very glad you came here. I was intimidated by your silence before, and then I didn’t get the opportunity to speak with you.”

Diancie laughed at Ingo’s words and your stomach successfully performed a summersault.

‘Intimidating? You’re mistaken, Subway Boss Ingo! My trainer here just isn’t as good at talking as they are at battling.’

Ingo should’ve questioned the fact that Diancie was speaking to him in his head, but he didn’t. There were always rumors that legendaries had abilities like this, and Ingo didn’t want to scare you both away by asking needless questions.

“You…run the Battle Subway in Nimbasa, right?”

You struggled to make eye contact with Ingo while speaking, but it was your only way to get him focused on you again. You could tell Diancie spoke to him, but you couldn’t hear what she said.

Surprised at your knowledge, Ingo stiffened and grabbed his cap.

“Ah, yes! My twin brother and I are the engines of Nimbasa’s Battle Subway. I am shocked someone of your stature knows about it and us.”

Your arms wrapped around your stomach and your eyes landed on Diancie, your beloved Pokémon brought you comfort. It was hard to make conversation with someone so attractive.

“I…I really love all the world’s battle facilities. I, um, I grew up in Kalos’ Kiloude’s city—”

“That’s where the Battle Maison is!”

Excitement filled your chest and you stared Ingo right in the eyes.

“Yes! Yes it is!”

You lit up at Ingo’s recognition. The Battle Maison wasn’t one of the world’s most well-known battle facilities like Sinnoh’s Battle Tower or Hoenn’s Battle Frontier. It felt amazing to be noticed.

“It would be an honor to have you battle in our subway, dear Champion.”

Your and Ingo’s hands are swept up by Diancie like a child between two parents. The Pokémon then pulled you and the Subway Boss towards Nimbasa City.

‘What are we waiting for? To the Battle Subway we go!’

Ingo wanted to tell you that Diancie is actually banned from participating in the battles at the subway, but your brilliant smile made him forget.

You looked much more relaxed now then you did at the tournament, and Ingo relaxes beside you.

People tended to judge your abilities as Champion after having a conversation with you, but you felt none of that criticism from Ingo.

Okay, maybe Diancie was right about this one…

Emmet ▽

Team Plasma was worse this time around.

Two years ago, when they spread their word through speeches and rarely acted with outward violence, it was easy to counteract them.

But now, things were not so easy.

This time, they were not held back by the members who truly cared about Pokémon, they did not hide behind a false and kind façade, and they did not follow a victimized and manipulated king.

Without their shackles, the rejuvenated Team Plasma pillaged and stole wherever they saw fit. They were feared across the region, and nobody knew where they would strike next.

Under Alder, the previous Champion, Emmet, Ingo, and countless other prevalent trainers in Unova were collected to form a coalition against Team Plasma.

But Plasma’s unpredictability allowed them to continuously slip through the cracks of the region.

Every day, their grunts grew stronger alongside the Seven Sages, who always seemed to have an escape plan. Even if someone on the Anti Plasma Coalition had anyone backed into a corner, the Shadow Triad was there to save them. Without Brycen’s expertise, they were impossible to see and track.

As much as Emmet tried to help, he was tied to Nimbasa City with his brother and Elesa. The other gym leaders had their responsibilities too. So, despite Alder’s efforts of uniting Unova’s strongest trainers, there was no result.

But then Team Plasma’s Frigate escaped Driftveil’s harbor, and Alder knew he had to call in backup.

Emmet was excited when Alder personally reached out to him to assign him to watch Opelucid City. Alder had explained that he believed Plasma was looking for the DNA Splicers and that he wanted a few extra trainers in the vicinity in case anything went awry.

While Emmet was eventually informed that he was chosen only because he wasn’t a gym leader and that Ingo could run Gear Station by himself, he was a little saddened. But, nevertheless, Emmet traveled to Opelucid.

Emmet was asked to patrol the city and keep an eye out for anything odd. He had Archeops in the sky and Eelektross by his side.

While Emmet could admire the mix of old and new skyscrapers of the city, he still couldn't help but think how much he missed Nimbasa.

Then, storms of Team Plasma grunts started marching out of side-streets in droves. From all directions, people clad in black with Pokémon by their side swarmed the center street.

Simultaneously, Emmet heard the deafening squawk of Archeops. Her voice carried clear through the chaos, making Emmet’s eyes turn to the sky.

A very familiar airship loomed in the distance, approaching the city at an alarming rate. It was Plasma’s Frigate again.

There were two events that needed his attention: Plasma’s oncoming airship and their marching wave of grunts. Emmet could only choose one. Without his twin by his side, Emmet started to stall.

Eelektross moved late, due to a lack of a command from his trainer, but still managed to shield Emmet from the oncoming sludge bomb from an opposing Garbodor. Emmet hadn’t even seen it coming.

Luckily, Eelektross didn't need to take a hit at all.

Within the time it took Emmet to blink, two floating figures stood between the sea of Plasma grunts and Eelektross. A shield of purple wavy light shimmered when hit by the sludge, but the attack fizzled out uselessly afterwards.

“You’re lucky we showed up when we did, or your partner would’ve been decommissioned before the battle even started.”

Emmet’s attention was dragged to the two levitating figures in front of him.

One of them was a lavender and orchid shaded Pokémon with deadly red eyes. Emmet was taken aback by how soulless they looked. It looked like a Pokémon he knew, but not quite.

Next to it, surrounded in an aura of pale pink, floated you.

Suddenly everything clicked.

Was Emmet informed that there would be another trainer in the city with him as backup sent by Alder? Yes, yes he was.

Was he informed that the backup trainer would be you, the acclaimed Champion of Kanto? No, no he was not.

“I am Emmet, one of the Bosses of Nimbasa Subway. And you are the Champion of Ka—“

“This is no time for conversation! Mewtwo, psystrike!”

Your voice cut him off before you ordered your legendary to summon pulsing energy into its palms.

Mewtwo sent his signature attack towards the swarm of grunts without remorse, carving the group down the middle like the Mauville Sea.

The explosion that followed deafened his ears, and the scared screams of the villains pierced his brain. You and your partner didn’t even waver.

There had been countless rumors over the past decade about Mewtwo’s existence and nature. After being mistreated by the scientists who created it, Mewtwo is said to have the most savage heart of all Pokémon.

And, from what he has just seen, Emmet doesn’t find it within himself to outwardly oppose that sentiment.

“You handle this crowd here, Emmet. We’ll take the airship.”

Mewtwo and you flew off towards the Frigate at breakneck pace, the path you took through the clouds is the only remnant of you Emmet is left with.

Revitalized by your powerful presence, Emmet unleashed all four of his partners on the oncoming Plasma grunts.

Halfway through the grunts, Emmet eventually realized that he wasn’t alone.

Five Pokémon autonomously fought Plasma grunt after Plasma grunt. They worked side by side with his own team.

A Venusaur took hits and healed itself back up time after time, providing support to a nearby Ninetales who held back any rogue trainers with flamethrower.

Then, back to back, a Kabutops and Nidoking slashed and swiped anyone in their way. They moved in sync and took everything down in one hit. Nothing more, nothing less.

And, only because he was trained to see it, Emmet saw a Jolteon who flashed through the field, sparking enemies left, right, and center. Emmet even saw it nuzzle his Eelektross and Galvantula to give itself a boost before it headed back out into the wave of Team Plasma.

Other than him, there was no trainer in sight. They all acted on sheer instinct. Emmet was smart enough to put together who they belonged to.

A siren pulsated through the air and all of Team Plasma turned tail and retreated. While Emmet could have pursued them, his goal was to protect Drayden and the DNA splicers, not follow Team Plasma.

In a moment of respite, Emmet started to treat his Pokémon with potions and snacks. However, before he knew it, the Subway Boss was feeding nine Pokémon, yours included.

“How did it go, Emmet?”

Emmet nearly jumped out of his shoes at the sound of your voice behind him. You watched him with careful, but kind, eyes as he was caught red-handed hugging your Kabutops.

“Hello, Champion! It is nice to see you again. Team Plasma was not a problem. Your Pokémon were verrrry helpful as well.”

You moved close to Emmet, grabbing his hands without words and positioning them on Kabutops in the places you know he liked to be petted. Kabutops sharpened his scythes together in glee.

As you situated Emmet with your fossil, Emmet’s fossil Pokémon perches on your shoulders. Archeops rubbed her cheeks against the top of your head. She let out a hum of content when you reached up and scratched under her chin.

After he noticed a few of Archeops’ feathers become dislodged from her wings and land in your hair, Emmet grinned even brighter than normal. You looked radiant, and he couldn’t help but notice how comfortable his Pokémon already were in your presence.

Your forwardness with contact before spurred Emmet onward as he stepped up to you. His fingers reached to untangle the colorful feathers.

‘Get your hands off my trainer.’

Emmet was stunned by two things. 

One, your Mewtwo, now back in its original state, spoke to him in his mind. 

And two, your Mewtwo threatened him. 

The Pokémon’s tone was generally neutral, but it was clipped with a small amount of malice.

However, Mewtwo didn’t know Emmet never backed away from a challenge.

“Well, Mewtwo, your trainer here seems to be enjoying it.”

You acted quickly after you noticed the way Mewtwo started to snarl. You scooped up Emmet’s hands into your own and held them in front of you while you maneuvered in between your legendary Pokémon and the Subway Boss.

“Please don’t provoke him, Emmet! Nothing good will come of it.”

Mewtwo gripped your shoulders and pulled you back from Emmet’s grasp.

‘We do not know who you are. Stay away from my trainer.’

You strained a laugh. Mewtwo took a long time to trust you and your team, so you are not surprised to see that he doesn’t trust Emmet.

However, Mewtwo was right. You didn’t know Emmet, but you would really like to.

“If you would like to see more of me, please visit the Nimbasa Battle Subway! I would be verrrry happy to see you and your team there.”

“We’ll take you up on that, thanks!”

Everyone on your team made noises of happiness, except Mewtwo of course.

‘I will crush you in your small, metal tube.’

Emmet laughed mockingly, smile becoming sharp as his eyes narrowed at your legendary.

“Funnily enough, you cannot! Legendaries are banned from Subway. So I’ll be seeing your lovely little trainer here all alone.”

The mega stone on your wrist warmed with Mewtwo’s growing anger and desire to fight.

Yeah, this relationship is going to be a work in progress…

//

y’all idk why but i started writing this in the past tense and once i realized it i was too far gone omg present tense my beloved i’m sorry i betrayed you this was so difficult for me. this is totally not beta read so if you see any mistakes, pls ignore them for my sanity. anyways, hope you liked it!! <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Just curious would Ingo child, would have similar Pokémon team (in Pokémon Arceus) like Warden Ingo has or completely different team than his. (Would they be Warden in Hisui’s and if so which one?)

And also can you write how Y/n got scars/their Pokémon if possible for you. (If not that’s okay with me and love your writing for Dad Ingo!)

hello!!

in my mind for the "Ingo's Hisui'd!Child" AU that i have going on, i imagine that they get sent to hisui but ingo does not. so there is no warden ingo. you/the child are the hero of hisui to me, but you're all alone until you luckily stumble across a distortion and end up back home in nimbasa.

in all honesty, when i thought of the child in ingo's and emmet's version of this AU, i wrote ingo's child as more responsible and headstrong before hisui but more scared and cowardly after hisui. due to this change, i headcannon that ingo's child has a very defensive and bulky team. i would say their team is probably Walrein, Snorlax, Vaporeon, Clefable, Torterra, and Hisuian Goodra.

and, for the child in emmet's version that is currently in progress, i'm planning to write the kid as rambunctious and kind before hisui, but they become cold and agressive after hisui. for emmet's kid, i imagined a much more attacking minded team. i would say they probably have a team of Drapion, Infernape, Staraptor, Garchomp, Machamp, and Hisuian Zoroark.

i do plan to write a reunion post with ingo and emmet's child with their father's pokemon, and for that post i could probably have the dad's meet their child's team and describe how they each met them. for the scars thing, someone requested a post in the future about the child having burn scars and such, but i truly haven't thought out each and every scar on the child's body as i purposely left so much freedom for anyone to imagine what you/the child looks like.

maybe i'll explore that more in the future! but i'd love to hear about how you imagined the child's scars to look like and where they came from :D

[your-dearest-sunshine]

lol sorry this took so long to do! i just like posting in bulk so yeah? ty for the tag though!! <33

Cool Picrew 👍

Here’s the link

Tags: @lokust @the-new-ginger-switch @fluffallamaful @twordishfics @someone1348 @soft–dragon @starlightrosa @covenofwives

Anyone else can hop on too 😊

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Hi!! This is my first time ever requesting stuff so do tell if I did something wrong or made it too specific but I was wondering if I could get raihan with a s/o who's like a hacker and stuff. Could you maybe include s/o having an arcanine as their partner too? You don't have to, though!!

I think the concept of such a person in pokemon world isn't very common. It's there but people probably just could care less about that when you can have pokemon battles. Even so it's a pretty interesting thing to do in my opinion.

Raihan and his Hacker!Reader

hey love!! your request was perfect so don’t worry about it. i’m so sorry this took so long, but got distracted with otome games and self-indulgent writing. however, in the otome game, there was a hacker character who i fell in love with and now they are the inspiration for your ask! sasazuka takeru my beloved. i was a little stumped when i first saw this request but after playing that game i feel much better about it. so it all worked out in the end <3

//

You shouldn’t have met Raihan. That’s a fact.

It was a coincidence, truly, that you even crossed paths in the first place.

With your career, you accidentally became a solitary person. That wasn’t your intent, but that’s just how it happened.

After you quit working for the government in Cyber Security, you became an independent hacker for hire. Your work was spread by word of mouth—you didn’t allow just any person to hire you. You were at the top of your industry, so only the best of customers could employ you.

You didn’t just have yourself to take care of however, you also had your partner: Arcanine.

And let me tell you, your Pokémon is spoiled absolutely rotten.

Your fire type gets the most expensive grooming in Hammerlocke, gets fed the best homemade Pokémon food, gets to sleep in your luxurious bed, and gets all the pets from citizens of the city.

When you’re stuck in your home office, monitoring your screens and breaking down code, your Arcanine likes to do an independent lap of the ancient city. Hundreds of people look forward to Arcanine’s presence every day, and the Pokémon relishes in the countless hugs and pats it gets on a daily basis.

So you’re probably wondering, how does a hacker like you, with one non-battling Pokémon, meet someone like Raihan, who has multiple, perfectly crafted teams of battle-ready Pokémon?

Simple: he hired you.

The day the great dragon-tamer Raihan’s Instaryugram account got hacked was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life.

Someone had logged into his account, deleted ALL of his posts, changed his profile picture and bio, unfollowed everyone he knew and followed thousands of bot accounts, and then finally got him auto-banned from live-streaming through the app by promoting links to inappropriate websites.

All of these changes happened within fifteen seconds.

Within the blink of an eye, seemingly all the progress and tracking Raihan had been curating for years had been undone. He wanted to know who did this.

So, he came to you.

Again, it was just a coincidence that he chose you.

Due to his status, the Instaryugram tech-team could help him recover his deleted posts, but he was determined to find who did this and why.

When he heard he was going to meet a hacker who would help him, he was expecting some pasty hermit who owned a Porygon or two and had no social skills whatsoever.

What Raihan didn’t expect was you, an incredibly attractive individual with one of the healthiest-looking Arcanines he’s ever seen.

He had more hope in your investigation now.

You deduced from the way his account was hacked that the perpetrator had set up a system with a preset that completely destroyed his account the second they gained access to it. 

Raihan was still confused about how this person got in from the beginning. He had multi-factor identification and changed the password all the time. He was very safe with his information, so where did he go wrong?

It was obvious that Raihan wasn’t really understanding the intricacies of your job, and that was frustrating to him.

As such, your Arcanine forced its way into Raihan’s arms, rubbing its soft fur all over his face. He laughed brightly in response.

“Aren’t you just a good dog? Yes you are!”

After your Pokémon yipped in glee, it promptly rolled onto its back for belly rubs. Of course, Raihan indulged the pupper. How could he not?

Well, as he did that, you had snatched his phone and plugged it into your portable laptop. You ran one of your programs on it, and, to no one’s surprise, it was tapped.

“Your phone’s been bugged.”

As you hand Raihan back his device, he looked at you incredulously.

“Wait, what?”

“The person who sabotaged your account had access to your phone in some way. They tapped it with a hidden app which collected your passwords and other sensitive data and sent it to any device with a matching app. It’s how they were able to log into the account despite all your protections.”

“But I had my phone on me when my account got screwed with, they couldn’t have gotten into my phone!”

Arcanine snorted roughly, placing its chin on Raihan’s head.

Your Pokémon was telling Raihan that he was stupid.

“It’ll be too much to explain if you can’t already follow what I’m saying. Don’t worry, I can work on your case on my own and—”

As you stood up to leave, Raihan quickly stood up with you. In a single move, he grabbed both of your hands with his own, intertwining his fingers with yours. It seemed like he wasn't going to let you walk away from him so easily.

“I really want to understand what you’re doing for me, so let’s talk about it over dinner, yeah? It’ll be my treat!”

The tall dragon trainer was already dragging you away to one of Hammerlocke’s best restaurants. Your Arcanine followed behind you both, laptop carefully being carried in its mouth.

To be fair, while he was already paying you for your work, you weren’t in the position to deny his offer. When’s the last time you had dinner in a real restaurant?

Another coincidence, huh?

Things just fell into place after that.

You had discovered through the camera on Raihan’s phone that one of the gym’s clerks opened his locker and tapped his phone while he was battling.

The clerk was a tech whiz and felt incredibly jealousy towards Raihan’s success and growing fame. So, to get back at him, the clerk destroyed Raihan’s social media.

In the clerk’s defense, it did pretty much broke Raihan for a short while.

But with your help, all was squared away and the gym leader’s Instaryugram account was back to normal.

Raihan posted about what had happened and how he got hacked, and he wanted to give you credit for your help, but you declined.

You decline the recognition? No problem, but you’ll go see a movie with him, right?

Oh, you didn’t like the movie you watched? It’s okay, he’ll apologize by taking you shopping.

You want to pay him back for his kindness? All right, if you insist. You both take a ride on Arcanine through the wild area and you add protection software onto his new phone.

Sorry, are you tired from the Arcanine-express? No worries, you can crash at his place tonight, it’s much closer anyways.

Ah, you plan on sleeping in the living room? Absolutely not, the guest gets the bed. He’ll get the sofa.

What do you mean Raihan’s too tall to sleep on the couch?

Well, you’ll just have to share the bed then.

And so here you are, too many dates and a confession or two later, being swallowed in your new lover’s arms as you drift to sleep.

Huh…funny how those coincidences all lined up in the end.

//

hope this satisfied your ask! i had way too much fun writing the end of this haha. all likes, comments, and reposts appreciated <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

UR DAD INGO SERIES MAKES ME SO HAPPY FR I NEED MORE he's my fictional dad to replace the real one I hate fr !!

ahhh thank you!! im so happy you like it! im a tiny bit concerned that my angsty father series is a good replacement for a shitty dad, but hey, to each their own (to be fair, angst makes me so happy so you’re not alone there haha)

but thanks for following the series along!! i plan to do an actually fluffy installment when the reader reunites with ingo’s pokémon after being gone for so long, so i’ll hope you’ll be around to see it <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

hiiii!! i saw that you said you liked angst and i loved your dad ingo series, and so i thought of something to request. could you do a scenario with dad ingo with a (non hisui'd) child who gets taken/kidnapped right in front of his eyes? like he tries to save them but cant?? and then the kid just gets taken away. i though that would be pretty angsty hehe

Ingo's kid!Reader Gets Kidnapped in Front of His Eyes

nony… just, thank you. thank you for sharing your incredibly intelligent idea with me. this prompt gives me great happiness. i’m sorry it took so long to get out, but i binged Collar x Malice and i did not stop until i reached 100% of all endings, cgs, and such. i’m currently playing Collar x Malice Unlimited but not as unhealthily as i did the original game lol… i’m such a simp for otome games and visual novels like bro, it’s an addiction. okazaki kei my beloved. but here it is!! more dad ingo angst!!

//

“I don’t understand what’s such an issue. I’ve been training for years, I know the region, I have a phone to stay in contact with you, I have a strong starting Pokémon, and I’m already 14. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to start the gym challenge yet!”

Ingo was tired of this conversation. It was one he had with you a few times in the past years, but it was becoming more frequent by the week. You had already discussed this two days ago, you knew his answer wasn’t going to be different.

“My child, it just isn’t your time yet.”

“Didn’t you go on your journey with uncle Emmet when you were eleven? Why can’t I go now?”

Ingo pauses, scratching the side of his face as irritation bubbles up within him.

“We were ten.”

“And at 14, you don’t think I should be going?"

“You just aren’t ready yet.”

“But–”

Your father cuts your off with a sharp and harsh sigh. He inhales deeply before unleashing his exasperation on you.

“But nothing! There are far too many trainers out on the challenge right now, there is far too much change with the restructuring of the gym order, and there is far too much uncertainty with Team Plasma on the prowl. You are not going on a journey until you are older, and that is final!”

Despite his answer of no being the same as all the conversations before, this time distinctly hurt you.

You feel awful. Did he not trust you enough? Were you not strong enough? Were you not smart enough?

There was a silent lull in the conversation as you stared up at your dad, looking straight into his eyes.

You spoke, but the dimples in your chin and wavering voice spelled out your emotions.

“What did I do wrong?”

There was nothing to say.

You combat his silence with another question, words failing you.

“…what’s wrong with me, dad?”

Ingo has nothing to say.

At his lack of a response, you scoff, turn around, and grab your partner’s Pokéball from the counter.

“I need some time alone. I’m going to the boardwalk.”

And you slam the door.

Ingo doesn’t protest your sudden leave. He respects your desire to take a breath of fresh air. And besides, the Nimbasa boardwalk is only a few minutes walk away.

You'll be fine.

It’s already early evening, so Ingo turns to the kitchen to start making dinner. If he makes you your favorite, he knows you’ll think he’s pitying you. But that’s not it. He’s just concerned.

Only a few minutes after you left, Ingo’s chest begins to feel heavy. He sets down the utensils he was using and grips the ledge of the counter, head filling with fog.

Haxorus scratching at the door is what breaks your father from his stupor. When he makes eye contact with his dragon Pokémon, it begins to whine, its large tail thumping the ground.

“Do you feel it too?”

Haxorus responds by batting the door with its tail and letting a harsh huff of air escape its nose.

The Pokémon matches Ingo’s emotions. Something is wrong.

Ingo and Haxorus make their way to the boardwalk, moving at a speed just below a jog.

With every step, his stomach twists in knots. He doesn’t know why he feels like this--but it’s an emotion he can’t describe with words.

He could say it’s similar to dread, but it more feels like inevitability.

You’re standing at the end of the dock, leaning on the railing and watching over the horizon. The Marvelous Bridge looms in the background. Your Boldore is pressed up against your legs, its blue gems shining in the slowly setting sun.

Ingo slows his pace, breathing a sigh of relief. You seem alright, what was he so worried about?

Even from the opposite end of the boardwalk, Ingo sees a man in black and gray clothes approach you and start to gesticulate at your Boldore. You smile and begin to have a conversation with him. It’s no surprise. Your partner attracted a lot of attention, after all.

It looks innocuous, but the interaction makes Ingo’s stomach lurch. He turns to look up at Haxorus, who simply snarls in the direction of you and the stranger.

Just as he’s about to take a step forward, a fast shadow flies overhead and slams into the docks in front of him. It catches everyone off-guard, and people start to scream.

Standing before him is a Salamence of monstrous size, grinning down at him with viciously sharp teeth. A woman is on its back, dressed in red with a long black coat and a dark visor over her eyes. She smiles at him.

“Sorry, Subway Master Ingo! But I can’t have you interfering in the collection process!”

Ingo’s heart stops. He doesn’t know what’s going on, he doesn’t know why this person is speaking to him, he doesn’t know what she means by collection.

Two people flank his sides, each holding a Pokéball in their hands. 

The only thing Ingo notices about them, however, is that they’re both dressed in the same black and gray outfit.

Wait, isn’t that—

“What are you doing?! Hey! Let go—!”

Your voice is cut short.

For a moment, the blood stops pulsing through Ingo's veins, the waves stop crashing against the boardwalk, the wind stops flowing, and all he can see is you.

You aren’t strong enough to fight off the man attacking you and the one who captures your Boldore. 

Ingo watches as you’re sent to the ground, head bouncing off the dock. Blood rushes down your forehead and dribbles onto the wood beneath you.

Your body stills.

There’s all kinds of commotion around him, but Ingo can’t seem to process any of it.

Regular citizens rush past him as Hunter J’s Salamence uses flamethrower on the dock, effectively separating the boardwalk in half. The two lackey’s on his sides send out their own Pokémon, but Ingo doesn’t even look to see what they are. His feet are planted in the floor.

Ingo can’t move. He doesn’t even command Haxorus to do anything, but it protects him anyway. It dispatches the henchmen’s Pokémon easily.

He can’t see you clearly now, hidden behind a wall of fire.

Through the chaos, he hears J laugh.

“Alright, wrap it up. Maybe the client will pay us extra if we bring the kid?”

Suddenly everything speeds up.

The edges of his vision go dark as his sight tunnels. His heart thumps so rapidly it threatens to break through his ribcage. Adrenaline spikes through his blood so sharply that he can feel his hair stand on end and his pupils shrink.

“Get your hands off my child, you bastard!”

As if sensing its trainer’s actions, Haxorus uses dragon tail on the ground. The energy surges forward and extinguishes a section of the flame wall, allowing Ingo to run through.

Passing through the gap, Ingo’s eyes fall onto the trainer who’s holding your unconscious body in his arms. 

At his side, another hunter is tying the net that has entrapped your Boldore. Behind them are two Noiverns, each preparing to take off. 

With no other Pokémon on hand, Ingo rushes at the two. 

He doesn’t know what else to do, he doesn’t know what he can do. All he knows is that he doesn’t have the time to hesitate.

But, even without hesitation, he comes crashing to his knees.

Behind him, he can hear the screech of an Ariados and feel webs tangle his legs.

The head of the operation, Pokémon Bounty Hunter J, walks over to Ingo’s collapsed body, Ariados at her side. She stays just out of reach of his arms in case he attempts to swing at her. He does.

“I hope you understand that this isn’t personal, your child was just unlucky. It’s just business.”

After mocking him, J walks away towards the end of the dock.

Ingo turns his head to see Haxorus grappling with Salamence. Both seem evenly matched, trading blows mercilessly. However, with Salamence’s wings, it has the advantage.

“Stop! No! Please!”

His voice rings through the air so loudly both Noiverns turn their heads to face him. They don’t waver to his pleas, however.

Ingo can barely move. He uses all of his strength to prop his upper half with his arms, eyes set on your body in the hunter’s grasp.

A large splash sprays the dock as Salamence sends Haxorus flying into the water. At that, the adrenaline leaves his body and a warmth stings the back of his eyes.

Fear and helplessness take root in his soul. The crushing sense of failure nearly makes him throw up.

Copper stains the back of his tongue from screaming his throat dry, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

“Stop it! Stop it, stop it, STOP IT! PLEASE I’LL DO ANYTHING!”

Not a single person even turns to look at him.

J mounts her Salamence and her henchmen board their own flying types. One of the Noiverns takes the end of Boldore’s net in its claws, prepared to carry it in flight.

You’re trapped in the arms of some random minion, eyelids shut with hot red blood dripping down the side of your face and lingering along your jaw.

There’s nobody left who can save you.

At the call from J, the hunters take to the skies and into the horizon. They’re heading far away from Nimbasa.

Ingo lets himself fall along the wooden dock, not having the willpower to stay up.

He notices flashes of red and blue lights from the corner of his vision, the sirens of police officers arriving fill his head. They do nothing to comfort him.

For the first time in a long time, Ingo weeps.

He lost you. He lost you.

//

oh yeah, angst time. for those who don't know, hunter j was an antagonist in the pokemon gen 4 anime. i've always remembered here from watching the show, and so i finally had a perfect time to use her in this post! hope you liked!! comments, likes, and reshares are always appreciated <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Hi hi, this is me, faesfondness! :D

I'm changing my account because I want to make a new one. While I'm here I want to give you this little doodle gift of Dad!Ingo and his child in the hospital.

I want to make Y/n with no hair, but it ends up looking weird, so I just slap y/n a short hair and ponytail, and a Y and N on their eyes because, yes.

*Ingo ain't listening to anyone's words. He ain't leaving his child ever again.

I adore a good platonic/family love fics, want it angst or fluff, I weak for them.

I really adore your angst about this little train family, doesn't have enough angst around here and I crave more of them. When I see your writing for the first time I know I need to hop into the angst train you provided on your station, hope you don't mind my presence on your train.

---

(my handwriting is messy, so I'll put it down here instead if you can't read it).

Y/n: *Just happy to have dad back, after God decided to bring them to Hisui to fix everything there.

Ingo: *Angy dad will MURDER 'Every time you try to separate me from my child, I'm close to letting Chandelure off from their seat to devour your soul.'

Doctor: "Sir Ingo, please..."

---

Forgive my poor English, I'm not really good. Hope you like it!

Also, keep up the good work, keep them coming(love them all)!! And don't forget to rest if needed, drink water, and stay hydrated!! :DD <333

OMG WHAT WHY HAVEN'T I SEEN THIS UNTIL KNOW WTFWTFWTFWTFWTF

but yes hello! i remember your account, and so i'm happy to see you here with a new one!!

i'm totally the same way. i love platonic fics and family fics so much. and i'm so happy to have you on the angst train!! i've been driving it through my station for years, so i'll happily accept any new passenger <3

BUT OMG MY HEART I LOVE THE DRAWING SO MUCH like angy dad!Ingo ready to kill anyone and everyone for you,,,yes please and thank you i adore it. but you're correct he would let chandelure devour anyone's soul without hesitation. and chandelure would happily do it for you!! his pokemon love you as much as he does.

(omg now i have to write a fic of hisui'd!reader reuniting with all of ingo's pokemon wait that is a must i have to do that

thank you for this!!! i'm so sorry i didn't see this until now but i am so so grateful for it!!!! i hope you are well and ily <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

I adore your writing so much! You’re amazing!!💖

[not a request]

But I keep picturing the absolute heartache that is Ingo and his Hisui’d child, like imagine at the hospital with that doctor being like “you need to step outside” and how poor child, no matter how old, just starts crying cause they don’t want him to leave.

They have spent so long in a dangerous unforgiving region without him, they just want their dad.

Your writing give my brain a singular brain cell back, it’s so good.

ahhh, thank you anon!! i appreciate that lots and im glad you’re liking my little dad!Ingo series!!

But I can imagine like the doctor coming back in with like a Blissey and another nurse, and they tell Ingo that this is a national procedure. He has to leave the room so they can speak to you.

Ingo would probably know why they have to separate you two, because you’re a minor who’s severely malnourished and he’s your father. It’s a case of the doctors checking your safety and if anyone’s been mistreating you. Child endangerment protocols, y’know?

Dude, the moment Ingo knew the doctors were like subtlety accusing him of mistreating his child, he loses his damn mind. Goes absolutely Zubatshit crazy. He could never. You’ve been gone for so long and they think he was hurting you? At that point, I’m thinking Ingo has enough rage within him to take down every one of them with his bare hands, he’s fuming.

But then you start crying, saying you don’t want your dad to leave. Ingo would cling to you then, trying to slowly calm you down because you’re far too unwell to be having an emotional breakdown right now. Your breathing becomes weak and shallow and your heart monitor is spiking. You try to grip your father back but you’re too weak to put any strength behind it.

Anon, and you saying “They have spent so long in a dangerous unforgiving region without him, they just want their dad.” EXACTLY MY SAME THOUGHT. You would be distraught at the thought of him leaving.

THANK YOU ANON you are SO right that’s exactly how it would go

[your-dearest-sunshine]

I LOVE YOUR WRITING!! I adore the emotions and how beautiful and heartwrenching the angst is!! Have a wonderful day!!

i'm so glad you like it, thank you so much!! seriously, angst is my favorite so i've picked up on some things over the years to make it good, but to hear that other people like it too makes my heart swell thank you very very much and you have a good day yourself <33

[your-dearest-sunshine]

Do you think you could write a little more about the Ingo’s child is sent to Hisui thing? They’d probably need to be hospitalized for a bit and have nightmares all the time, that sort of thing?

anon, you’re speaking my language (which is angst, for those who couldn’t tell). here are the precursors to this post, both the original and the follow up. seriously, anon, thank you for giving me the chance to write angst and hurt/comfort, it’s literally my favorite thing. i might’ve interpreted your ask a little differently than what you meant, so if i did, just let me know and i can do something else! i never mind writing for this stroyline.

//

Ingo carries you to the hospital. He doesn’t care how long the walk was, he doesn’t care about the few glances he got from the lingering strangers on the street, he doesn’t care because you are alive and you are in his arms again and he needs to help you.

As he walks through the doors of Urgent Care, those on standby see you and immediately rush to prepare a room and doctors for you. Others stop and stare, unblinking at your weakened state. Everyone in Nimbasa knows of your disappearance, so to see Ingo walk into a hospital with you in his grasp feels impossible.

A few paramedics take a stretcher to Ingo, and your father places you down on the soft cushions gently. As it moves, he walks by your side, eyes unmoving from your face and his fingers entwined with yours (he can feel the weight of your hands in his, he can feel the roughness of your palms and the curves of your fingerprints; Ingo awoke every morning with the fleeting memory of your hands in his, fearing the one day he would forget them, forget you–but now, he knows that’s can’t be true, because with you here, he shall never forget anything about you ever again).

You speak very little as some nurses move around you, placing a clamp over your finger to get some vitals and helping you get comfortable in your room. Ingo’s heart twinges in his chest when he sees you squirm as they put an IV into your arm. He smiles. Some things never change.

With the IV helping you with dehydration, you start to look a little more alive. However, it only takes a few tests and questions to confirm that you are one, severely malnourished, two, have effects of long-term sleep deprivation, three, have extraordinarily high blood pressure, and four, show signs of heart stress and strain. You haven’t gotten the chance to say why you have accrued all these ailments, but to you, none of them come as a surprise.

When you tell them about your wounds, scars, and pains, they explain that you will have to be scheduled for MRIs, CAT scans, x-rays, and the like to help them find the problems that have plagued you. You nearly cry in relief, but you know you are still far too dehydrated to do so.

When the nurses leave, saying a doctor should be with you shortly, you turn your head to the side and smile at Ingo. He pushes down a sob. How long has it been since he’s seen your smile?

Your voice is harsh, but still yours. “I have so much to tell you, dad.”

Ingo shakes his head, murmuring something unintelligible to even himself. He grasps your hand once more with both of his own, bringing it up to rest against his forehead.

“It can wait, my child,” he can't stop his words from shaking. “I have been waiting for you for a long time, I can wait for you to be okay before hearing an explanation.”

When the doctor comes in, they speak to both you and Ingo as if you hadn’t seemingly come back from the dead. They treat this situation as they would any other case of a malnourished and injured child.

As such, after a few preliminary tests and questions, confirming your identity by birthday and address (which you are surprised you remember and the fact that it has changed since you left) the doctor turns back to Ingo.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave so I can speak to your child privately. If you can just wait outside the room for a few–”

“No.”

“I apologize, but there are some things I must ask them and having a parent in the room can influence those answers to be inaccurate.”

Ingo is seething, rage oozing from his skin and through his teeth like blood. His silver eyes are like a blade, glare sharper than a Skarmory's wing.

“How dare you ask me to leave when this is the first time I’ve seen my child in two and a half years?! How can you ask me to do that?! I will not abandon my child again, not for you, not for anyone!”

The doctor says something about leaving and coming back when the situation has cooled down. Ingo can't hear a word they said, however, because the blood is pumping through his ears so fervently.

“Dad, they just–”

“No,” his voice gives out, cracking like ice in the sun.

He brings one of his hands to hold the side of your head. You instinctively seek out your father’s comfort, leaning into his palm. Ingo’s eyes flicker to every curve and bend of your face, memorizing every scar and every imperfection. After all this time, he is still him, and you are still you.

 “I will not leave you again, my child. I won’t. I can’t.”

//

oh yeah, angst is the best. but hey, if you love this Ingo story and want more like it, fret not! the Emmet’s Child Gets Sent to Hisui Alone version will be coming out soon!!

[your-dearest-sunshine]

These requests with Ingo and his kid over here making me weep fr it’s so heartbreakingly tender and angsty and I love it! You’re so good at writing, it’s incredible!!!

bro im so sorry im so bad with responding to things. im the literal embodiment of the "i'll see a text, tell myself i'll respond to it in a few minutes, and then forget about until like a week later." it is, honest to god, my most toxic trait T_T

anyways, thank you sm!! for you to like my writing makes me want to cry fr i fucking love your blog sm. i literally spam liked your whole page with my original account before making this one to write on. if you're wondering, @vainglxriously (the one with the scorbunny pfp) is also me lol. maybe you've seen me in your notifications? probably not tho, you're very popular, and for good reason!! i don't use that account anymore after making this one, however

but!! i have another part of the Ingo series coming out in like,,,5 minutes? i just have to copy and paste it to tumblr from docs lol oh yeah and the Emmet version of that should be coming out soon too!! so even more angst :D