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trashogram · 4 years

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Smut I’ll probably never finish; we’ll call it practice: Killer Croc/Reader

Edit: Warnings for painful sex, slight gore/blood, and violence

I didn’t expect people outside of those who humor me on this blog to actually read this, but I appreciate everyone who did! I’m putting up a few warnings by request if anyone else is interested.

“You really meant it, huh?” He asked.

The guttural voice gave you shivers, up and down your spine. Your legs tightened around his waist, bare skin rubbing over the scaly texture assuredly.

“Yes.” You confirmed, knowing that you had to choose your words carefully, otherwise you’d offend him. At least, that was how you thought you would react if you were a killer crocodile man getting a taste of intimacy after God knows how long.

Your slight movements actually managed to push him forward slightly, more out of surprise than your own strength. Again, you weren’t some super-strong mutant, able to lift cars and topple buildings.

He grunted, leaning down until his upper body was atop yours and his enormous hands were on either of you. He stared down at you with yellow eyes that mezmerised; they were unnatural looking and yet still so human - full of little flickers of emotions. The lust was obvious and it made the heat between your thighs that much more intense, but Croc was also questioning. His hesitance shouldn’t have surprised you, but you found yourself melting just a little at the fact that he was waiting for you to change your mind.

Your hand rose, reaching out toward his chest and sliding up from his pectorals all the way to his jaw. He was scaly from head to toe, but there were parts of him that were softer than others. His neck was strangely fragile, like the underbelly of a reptile rather than their hide.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered, swallowing at the way his brow arched.

“Kiss?” He said, tone slightly incredulous. “You wanna… kiss me…?”

“Oh, do you not want… do you not like them?” The statement didn’t take into account that Croc had possibly never been kissed in his entire life, and you’d put it like that on purpose. He didn’t exude any kind of touchy-feely behavior to suggest he’d been given the chance to decide if he liked physical touch like that at all.

His mouth closed, teeth hidden behind a set jaw. “If it’s what you want, lady. Go for it.”

You smiled softly, and raised yourself up just enough to be within kissing distance. Your lips puckered and you pressed them against his straight as a line mouth, noting that this area was hard but not rough. There was give to it, reminding you more of human flesh as his lips parted slightly.

You moaned, accepting the quick draw and release of his breath into you. You could feel his coarse chest against yours, and the heart inside beating quickly as he let himself relax. He groaned into your mouth finally, humming as if he were tasting something particularly delicious while you coaxed his tongue into your mouth.

You pressed your forehead against his before breaking away for air, letting him know without explicitly saying it that you just needed to breathe and weren’t trying to escape. Not that you could from underneath him.

Croc panted with you. “You sure you ain’t never killed a man before? Probably could, if you kissed ‘em like that.”

You closed your eyes and laughed, feeling lightheaded. Your fingers stroked over his cheek and along his jawline as you felt his grip around you tighten up. He squeezed you, carefully but with purpose, holding you firmly.

+++

Leaning down, you kissed the criminal again while balancing yourself with your hands pressed down over his ribcage. Pushing the hair away from your face before rising again, you reached back and easily found his cock and aligned yourself with it.

You inhaled slowly, determination strengthening your resolve as you continued to sink down onto him. The head was fully inside, but you were still far and away from taking all of his length.

He growled, claws tensed around your waist. It was enough to make you brace yourself with a hand on his forearm.

You grunted. “Tell me how it feels, big guy. Please. I wanna know.”

The sweet request took a while to get through to his brain, but Killer Croc eventually came back to reality. His eyes were glazed over, but you could still see your reflection. You were the only thing in his world.

“‘S like heaven.” He murmured.

The praise made you blush. Your stomach unclenched as a new sense of confidence flooded your senses, and you went back to working your way down so that he could have more. It was very much work, even as the crocodilian man helped by taking some of your weight. He held you up when you needed to pause, though it became evident that he’d started shaking.

You dragged one hand from his abdomen to your center, circling your clit. It sent a jolt of electricity through your body, reminding you to let yourself feel this experience.

Your walls clenched around Croc, and you whimpered. It was completely drowned out as the beast under you snarled at the sudden vice. You jerked back as his hips moved upward in a shallow thrust and suddenly you were there. Your ass was seated firmly on his hips.

He was in bliss, head tossed back against the cell floor. “Ahh, that’s … uuugh, real good.”

You giggled affirmatively, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the triumph of taking all of him. You felt beyond full, stretched to a limit many women couldn’t likely accommodate lest they risk injuring themselves.

You were nice and durable, though. Even as you pressed back down on his chest for leverage and began to lift yourself halfway up again. You looked down between your legs and saw how shiny the base of his cock was already, then lowered back down. Again, and then again.

The wetness was a blessing. You were sliding up and down within a minute, unending fullness that kept you walking the line between pleasure and pain.

You cried out as Killer Croc made another attempt at thrusting. It was still slight, but there was no way for it to go unnoticed. He continued to growl, letting one claw grip onto your thigh while the other left you entirely to dig into the floor.

It was so easy to get overwhelmed, and yet the noises you made seemed to egg him on. He got into a disjointed rhythm, really trying to fuck you in earnest.

He was too big. The thrusts felt like being shivved in the pelvis while he hit the farthest he could go inside of you. Yet, you couldn’t do more than squeal and shriek as you bounced violently.

The nails on your thigh dug in and pierced your flesh. You covered your mouth to muffle a scream at the pain, but Croc took advantage. He pulled you forward, squeezing you to him and thrusting faster.

The danger of this getting out of hand had been reached and you felt dizzy and helpless. You couldn’t focus on any one thing whether it be the blood sliding down your leg or the stab of him against your cervix. You sobbed, eternally grateful for your bodily resilience as you were split apart.

This wasn’t going to kill you, even if it felt exactly like that.

“Fuck! I’m, ugh!” His words were punctuated with fast, shallow thrusts. Howling out, he completely immobilized you and buried himself to the hilt before you realized that he’d cum.

Heat filled you, stinging as it joined the static sensation of hurt and tingling inside. You could barely feel the rest of your body, only noting that the base of your spine felt like it was being shocked.

Croc’s relief sounded like a combination of deep growl and a nasal grunting. His hold on you went lax as soon as he had emptied everything inside you.

—-

The sound was distant, faraway thunder that still shook the ground beneath. It was simultaneously comforting and bizarre feeling the earth beneath you giving and taking. Not to mention the strange texture - inconsistently smooth until your arms lowered over its slope and you touched a much harder surface underneath.

Were you lying in some kind of plateau? Or a strange rock that was smooth at its peak and jagged at the base?

Eyelids fluttering, you squinted. There was harsh, ugly light above you, casting a glare against the thick glass before your eyes. It was a wall of glass, thicker than the thickest plaster wall you could find in an apartment in the Narrows.

You connected the dots then, and your head rose with a bit of effort so that you could confirm that you were still laying on Killer Croc.

Yes, he was still there and still breathing. And so were you.

Thank god.

Your lower half felt numb, except for the thick object still lodged inside of you. You grimaced a bit trying to pick yourself up with the added weight of his arms still embracing you, but his softening cock eventually slipped out of you.

The cum was thick and white, no different from a completely human man’s. The feel of it dripping out of your core was just as satisfying while you struggled to catch your breath.

You were quivering when you felt Croc’s arms drag over your back, pleasantly scraping over your soft skin as he kept your body atop his own securely. He clearly didn’t give a shit about being covered in your combined fluids.

#killer croc #waylon jones #killer croc x reader #for funsies i guess #btas

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drossna · 6 years

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Keep It To Yourself

Fic for Pokemon Sun and Moon to celebrate Acerola and Nanu’s anime debut.

Word count: 6689

{AO3 Link}

Slight warning for body horror/gore (nothing major, just a ghost)

Acerola grew up with three shadows. The first was her own, the proper black one that dogged her heels and stretched in the sun. The other two belonged to the parents she’d never met.

They were hazy shapes, thin films of TV static that kept her company in her lonely moments. But they were completely void of any detail—faces, voices, comforting wisdoms. They were silhouettes without souls.

She learned quickly that no one liked the girl who saw ghosts, the girl who hallucinated, the girl so ashamed of being an orphan that she invented a mother and father like other kids invented make-believe friends. Ghosts lived in the Megamart; they didn’t flatten themselves like cartoons and follow little girls. But the shadows were real. They were as real as the ache of a sunburn or the bite of cold winds that blew down from Lanakila.

And Acerola wasn’t the only one with tagalongs.

Other people had their ghosts, too, though theirs were often much more defined. The matron of the orphanage had a translucent Mankey. The burn scars along its arms would flicker in and out of existence, and it would follow the matron on rainy days, swinging from the doorframes and passing through walls. She’d never acknowledge it, but would sometimes sigh like she could feel its heavy presence.

A boy in the grade above Acerola had a spectral twin. Two phantom Rockruff could be found waiting patiently outside the door of the Tapu Village Pokécenter.

They weren’t there all the time, but they appeared just enough to give Acerola a reputation, as if being a descendant of the archaic Alolan royals wasn’t status enough. Anytime she brought up someone’s ghost, they’d look at her like she was inhuman, or they’d snap and yell. Or they’d cry. So, she shut up. She ignored. Out of sight and out of mind became her motto.

But that didn’t stifle her affinity for ghost-types. By the time her Island Challenge brought her full circle to her hometown of Tapu Village, she’d amassed a team of spooks and spirits—a clingy Sableye and lazy Drifblim and playful Sandygast. Her childhood companion that she’d met in the grass outside the orphanage had evolved into a Froslass. Together, they’d steamrolled three islands’ worth of trials as well as two intense battles, but the kahuna of Ula’ula crossed his arms and scowled as he sized them up.

“That’s your team for the Grand Trial?” he asked.

“Yup,” Acerola said, but her brave face wavered. There was nothing to worry about, though. They were fighting on the raised boardwalk that wove through Ula’ula Meadow, surrounded by a sea of flame-red blossoms, the air sweet and the sky cloudy. This was home turf for her. This would be her victory. “We fight three-on-three, right?”

“No, let’s not.”

“Huh?”

He sighed. “Look, kid, I think it’s cute that you’re going for a speciality, but you’re a little young. Wait until you’re older before putting yourself at such a disadvantage.” He tossed his pokéball with a limp wrist and a black stripped crocodile took shape on the boardwalk, its tail lashing in a fluid motion, its eyes sharp and alert. “We’ll make this a one-on-one. Don’t wanna waste anyone’s time.”

Acerola’s heart spiked in her chest. Okay, yeah, she knew she’d be at a disadvantage fighting a dark-type expert, but now everything was riding on this one fight.

Taking a deep breath, she recalled all the members of her team sans Shivers the Froslass. “I’m counting on you, Shiv.”

Shivers floated out to face the croc. Wherever the droop of her arms brushed the wooden planks, a thin sheen of glistening frost sprouted up. She grumbled, a sound like deep ice breaking, as the Krokorok glared at her. Intimidate taking affect. Not that it would matter.

“Ready?” Nanu asked. Acerola only had to nod before he called out his first command. “Dupin, Crunch.”

The Krokorok lunged down the boardwalk, vicious energy gathering in the crook of its jaw.

“Dodge to the left!”

Shivers snapped out of the way and the Crunch met dead air. Ice dusted the wildflowers as she propelled herself on plumes of winter wind, flying over the meadow at speed.

“Don’t let up.” And the Krokorok launched in pursuit.

The battle became a chase. The Krokorok was agile, darting through the flowers and striking hard, but each time Shivers would dance out of the way. She outpaced it. That was her advantage. But it was slowly slipping away as the Krokorok learned her pattern.

The next Crunch pinched her arm and she shrieked. Like a skittish child, she retreated to hover at Acerola’s side, her wound bleeding black smoke.

Nanu didn’t say anything as his Pokémon clambered onto the boardwalk.

Acerola resisted the urge to bite her thumbnail. Krokorok was a physical fighter, and Shiv had an answer for that, but first she needed to stop panicking and concentrate.

“Your friend tired?” Nanu asked.

Shiv bobbed sluggishly, guarding her bleeding arm.

“We’re fine to keep going,” Acerola said, steeling her will. She could trust Shiv.

He shrugged. “Don’t push yourself.” And the Krokorok took off again.

It barreled towards them, and Acerola waited. Its claws dug into the planks, closing the distance, but she kept her mouth shut. They needed a clean shot. A foot from its target, the Krokorok opened its spring-trap mouth. Acerola blinked.

“Now—!” Shiv swept out of the way, twirling above the croc in an arc. “—Will-o-wisp!”

Pearls of blue fire bombarded the Krokorok’s flank at point blank. Its teeth caught Shiv’s skirt on the dismount, but they released almost immediately as the burns wormed into its muscle tissue.

And now Acerola could start an offensive. “Ice Shard!”

The Korokorok hopped backwards—noticeably less limber than before—scurrying to avoid the chunks of ice that whistled through the air and embedded in the boardwalk.

It wouldn’t get a chance to recover. “Draining Kiss!”

Shiv gathered a halo of opalescent energy, but as she flew towards her opponent, the Krokorok drew back a clawed fist to meet her head on with Assurance.

Before the attacks could make contact, Nanu held up a hand. “Dupin!”

The croc stuttered to a stop, and the shout stunned Shivers out of her charge. Everyone looked to the kahuna.

“I fold,” he said.

Acerola frowned. “Wha?”

“Fighting smart,” he said. “That’s all I needed to see. You win.”

“I— really?” Her words choked off into stunned silence as Nanu withdrew his Krokorok and crossed the boardwalk towards her.

“You’re a girl who knows what she’s doing,” he said. “I’m not gonna hold you back just cause I happen to have one up on you type-wise. You’ve got your bases covered.”

“Oh, my gosh! Thanks so much!” Acerola said, the adrenaline fading and a smile stretching across her face. “And thank you for the battle.”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“It’s still nice of you—“

A flash of movement over Nanu’s shoulder caught her eye. Her blood ran cold and she clamped hands over her mouth to muffle a shriek.

Nanu whirled around on high alert. “What is it?”

But he couldn’t see the ghost.

It was the figure of a young woman, her limbs bent and mashed at uncanny angles. Her head lolled to the side. Half her face was coated in blood, a thick stream of it that snaked over her crushed ribcage and torn stomach, soaking around what could be seen as giant teeth marks. It was more pulp than person. It looked like a chewed piece of gum.

Acerola stared until her eyes watered. This was the worst ghost she’d ever seen. Bile rose in her throat, but Nanu was still looking around in bewilderment, and so she spoke up. “It’s… fine.”

“You sure?”

Acerola nodded meekly. “Yeah. I thought I saw something, but—” The ghost still hovered behind him, and she swore that its one remaining eye was trained on her. She averted her gaze. “—but it’s fine.”

“If you say so,” Nanu said, still uncertain. He took one last sweep of the area before flicking a shard of Darkium-Z to Acerola. “Here. Have fun on Poni, and take care of yourself.”

Job done, he didn’t bother sticking around. As he left, the ghost paused for a moment before following, and Acerola watched them go. The ghost remained corporeal until they both vanished from sight.

It took a few days for the initial horror to fade, and Acerola’s first few nights on Poni were plagued with nightmares. Afterwards, all that was left was a burning curiosity.

But the next time she met the kahuna, they didn’t have time to talk. The final trials were a serious, ceremonial affair held on the plateau of Lanakila with everyone bundled against the cold and battling through the hail. This time, they had a real fight. Their Sableye matched blow for blow, but Acerola finally won out after her Palossand sunk both his Absol and his Persian. She couldn’t rest on her laurels, though, and was promptly whisked away to heal her team before facing Poni’s kahuna in her final fight. She didn’t catch a single glimpse of the ghost.

Months passed, but that curiosity clung to a dark corner of her mind, even as she settled back into her routine at the orphanage.

Part of this routine were weekly trips to Malie—nearly a two-hour ride by bus to get there, and a two-hour ride back—so that she could visit the collection of books her father had left the library in his will. Her two shadows would meet her at the door. They’d follow her past the front desk, into the stacks where the collection was housed, and they’d keep a silent watch as she read. She felt closest to them there, when she was soaking in all the knowledge that her father had amassed over his lifetime. And it was warm in the library. In a way, it was more home than the orphanage would ever be.

It was during one of these pilgrimages that she again crossed paths with her island’s kahuna.

It was off-season for tourism, and the cobbled streets of Malie were blissfully free of obnoxious travelers. Telephone lines bowed under the weight of Wingull and baile Oricorio. Shopkeepers chatted with passerby. Screen doors were propped open by cinderblocks, and the chime and clang of restaurants serving the lunch rush spilled into the backroads.

Acerola spotted him from across the way while she was walking to the library as he headed in the opposite direction. No ghost, but he had a pair of heavy cardboard boxes stacked in his arms.

There was barely a decision to be made.

Acerola bounced up to him. “Whatcha got there?”

He kept walking, but shifted the boxes to get a better look at her. “Who’s asking?”

“Do you remember me?” she asked, realizing in her next breath that if he did remember her, it was probably as the weirdo who screamed at thin air. “We battled, uh, last trial season.”

“Oh,” he said. “Ghost girl.”

“That’s me!”

And the ghost winked into existence, just as gory as ever with its face hovering over Nanu’s shoulder.

A chill went up Acerola’s spine, a thrilling feeling. She kept the specter at the corner of her vision and asked again, “So, what’s with the boxes?”

“They don’t deliver packages up north anymore, not after Po Town went under,” he said, “so, I have to come out here and fetch it myself.”

“Cool, I guess,” Acerola said, “but what’s—“

“A bunch of semi-precious rocks. Friend on Akala sends me her leftovers since I’ve got a Sableye to feed.”

The ghost followed them, floating, frozen in a static position to Nanu’s left. It didn’t move otherwise—it’s arms and legs hung lame at its sides, some of the them twisted from their sockets.

“Do you need help carrying them?” Acerola asked. Breaking her streak of library visits stung, but the ghost had a sense of magnetic mystery about it. Who had it been? Why did it look like that? She needed more time to observe.

“What, nothing better to do?”

“Nope! Give it.” She reached and slid the topmost box off the stack, stumbling forward when the full weight hit her shoulders, but she managed. “You know, I’ve got a Sableye, too.”

“I remember from the final trials, yeah.”

“I can’t buy her gemstones, though. It’s way too expensive, so I hunt around the beach for sea glass.”

“She’ll eat that?”

“Totally, but it’s turning her eyes green. I bet she’ll turn shiny if I do it long enough.”

Acerola rambled all the way out of Malie and to the bus stop—Nanu’s had flown his Honchkrow into town, but a passenger plus cargo was too much for the old bird to bear. Nerves turned her chatter up to eleven, so between the ghost, the kahuna, and the growing awareness that Nanu probably did not appreciate her word vomit, she was talking faster than a Jolteon on X Speed.

Between erratic changes in conversation topic and Nanu’s one-word answers to questions, she took mental notes on the ghost: it was wearing a business suit; its hair was shorn in a sharp, no nonsense bob; it wouldn’t stop staring at her. Which was unsettling, because all the other ghosts would only pay attention to the people they were attached to. Acerola gulped.

The bus line followed the road that cut between Hokulani and Lanakila, so the trip was much shorter than Acerola was used to. But thanks to Po Town’s collapse, the line only bothered going halfway, and by the time they reached the police station on Route 17, Acerola’s arms were starting to go numb.

When Nanu set his box down to open the door, he said, “Satisfied with your good deed for the day?”

Acerola was too busy wringing the pins and needles out of her arms to do much else besides tilt her head in question.

“You helped a poor old lady carry her groceries. Be proud of yourself.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, you’re welcome.”

The door opened and a cacophony of high-pitched yowls assaulted their ears. Seventeen odd pearl-grey Meowth blanketed the furniture, sprawled on the windowsills and uncurled from their countertop beds to wail like famine victims. Like a church choir of feline entitlement. They’d been left alone for hours and wanted their grievance known.

“Oh, my gods,” Acerola said, delighted.

“Shut it, you freeloaders,” Nanu shouted into the station. “Marple, control your children.”

An Alolan Persian perked her head out of the writhing mass of cats, looking thoroughly harassed.

Nanu piled the boxes inside near the door, pushing aside the Meowth that tried to rub against his legs. “No reason to stick around, kid,” he told Acerola. “Get home before it’s dark. And close the door.”

The ghost followed him in, still limp and bloody, still staring at Acerola.

“Okay,” she said.

And that’s when the ghost spoke. Its voice was eerily human, a warm cadence you’d expect from a kindergarten teacher, its mouth framing each syllable perfectly. “She was so excited.”

Acerola slammed the door.

What. In the name. Of Lele’s magic pixie dust. Was that?

Shaken, she hurried back to Tapu Village, and that night the nightmares resurged with a vengeance. But instead of scaring her off, they fed into an obsession, the all-consuming mystery of the shredded ghost that spoke. It spoke! A ghost had never done that before.

She returned to the police station three days later. She’d meant to wait longer, but the curiosity had drilled into her brain and was steering her from the inside.

She knocked, and when Nanu opened the door he grimaced. “You’re back,” he said.

“I’m back,” Acerola said.

“Why.” Behind him, the ghost clipped into view.

“I didn’t get a chance to really see the cats last time,” she said. “They’re so cute. Can I have a little time to pet them?” And to do some ghost watching.

“I was heading out.”

“I’ll come with you then,” Acerola said, a little too quickly, and Nanu folded his arms. She continued, “because, I mean, no one else really lives up here, and I thought maybe you could use some company.”

“You thought wrong,” he said, “but if you’re gonna stalk me then I’d rather know where you are. And you can help.”

“Um, with what?”

“Got a complaint about ankle biters in Haina. The Ground-types are acting up again. When they get tired of scrapping with each other, they take it out on humans, so I have to go out there and remind them who’s on top. Bulu doesn’t like children playing on their lawn.”

They flew together over the sea route, Acerola riding atop her Drifblim. The squishy balloon didn’t get much use as transport due to being agonizingly slow, but it floated over obstacles just fine. On foot, they passed through Tapu Village, the blackened walls of the old village, and the trailer park that surrounded the oasis.

The cliffs that surrounded Haina were layers of dusty strata. Scrub grass clung to the rock. The sky was calm—a rarity—and heat mirages rose off the backs of burning-hot stones.

Once they were past the canyon that led into the desert, Acerola set her Palossand loose on the rowdy critters that surged up from the sand in challenge.

“Iolani! Use Giga Drain!”

Stark green light ringed a Trapinch as its life force was sapped away. By infusing her essence into the sand, Iolani whipped the ground into whirlpools, burying Gible and Gabite to their necks where they wriggled and trashed.

A Sandile scuttled across the sand, its belly pressed low before leaping high to Bite her flank. A transparent shield met it midair, and it crashed to the ground. Protect.

“Good work, Cordelia,” Nanu said.

His Sableye gave a chittering giggle.

The ghost floated in the same spot it always did, watching impassively. The clouds of dust that drifted through its body and gave it a washed out look. Acerola was so wrapped up in the fight that the next time she glanced over, she startled. The ghost’s mouth was moving. It was speaking again, but she couldn’t hear it over the hiss and spit of battle. She squinted, trying in vain to read its lips. A sharp pain light up her calf.

“AH!”

The rebuffed Sandile had snuck behind the frontlines and clamped onto her leg. She brought a heel down on the croc’s head in panic. It gave a squeak of pain and released, disappearing back into the sand.

Nanu frowned. “Shit.”

Four rows of punctures bled down her calf, but she kept a straight face. “It’s not so bad.”

“No,” Nanu said. “Let’s pack it up. We’re about finished anyway.”

Putting weight on the leg made her cringe, but they made their way to the Tapu Village Center just fine, and Acerola sat off to the side in the lobby while a nurse cleaned and dressed the wound.

Nanu trudged over. “Hand me your ‘mon. I’ll get them healed.”

Acerola passed him Iolani’s pokéball. As he walked to the main desk, the ghost swayed like it was being pulled in two directions, but instead of staying locked at his side, it hovered by Acerola instead. She felt the hair on her arms prickle.

“There wasn’t a lot of sun,” the ghost said, voice as hearty and full of life as ever, “not where she came from.”

“Who?” Acerola whispered. “Are you talking about you?”

“What was that, miss?” the nurse asked, glancing up from her work.

“There wasn’t a lot of sun,” the ghost repeated, and Acerola had to smile bashfully and say, “Oh, it’s nothing, sorry.”

But it wasn’t nothing. It was a big fat something, and it was going to drive her insane. So, a new item appeared on her weekly schedule. She’d bus into Malie on weekends, and her spare weekdays were spent on Route 17 hanging around the old kahuna. Whatever he was doing that day, she’d join in. Even on the days when he was sulking or napping, he’d still open the door so she could play with the Meowth—to tire them out, he said.

It was on one of these days, a day where the sky broke open and streams of rainwater leaked from the gutters and where the police station, against all odds, felt warm and comforting, it was on one of these days that Acerola got down to some real investigating. It had become a hobby. She’d poke and prod at Nanu until he let spill some tiny life secret, and then she’d back off. If she stuck her nose too far into his business he’d get grumpy in a hurry, but recently she’d found that sweet middle ground, and he’d been giving her bigger and bigger chunks. Sometimes it was even multiple sentences at a time! Today, she was poised, ready with a big question.

Nanu was sunk into the middle of the sofa, exercising his slouch while a clowder of Meowth piled on his legs.

Acerola sat on the floor, criss-cross, scratching behind the ear of a demanding kitten. Now was as good a time as any. Gently, she led into her interrogation. “Isn’t it kinda boring?”

“If you’re not having fun, you can go home.”

She giggled, keeping it light. “No, I mean the kahuna work and the police officer stuff you always do. It’s more or less the same, and then if you’re not doing that, you’re here. It’s not boring?”

“I don’t see a need for it to be particularly interesting.”

“But you’ve done other things, obviously. What did you do before you were chosen as kahuna?”

There’s a pause for thought. “Traveled.”

“You were a globetrotter? What, you hit up all the biggest cities, saw all the sights, broke the hearts of all the locals? Tell me about Kalos.”

“Do I look the tourist type to you?”

“Gotcha. What happens in Lumiose stays in Lumiose.”

“It was not as fun as you’re imagining.”

Acerola took a guess. “More police-work then?”

There was a sigh. Sometimes she thought that he’d caught on to her investigation, but he couldn’t suspect it was anything more than a cheery girl being too friendly.

“Something like that,” he said. “It was a lot of moving around, a lot of late nights and bad coffee, so nothing exciting. There was a month where I got to know the back alleys of Lumiose pretty well, though.”

A neon sign lit up in the back of Acerola’s head, flashing pink and green the words “SECRET PAST”.

The covert questioning continued with Acerola earning a snippet here and a snippet there but never the full story, and halfway through she swore he started making stuff up. No way was there a time travel cult in Johto. The conversation shifted and digressed and eventually she forgot about the investigation entirely. It wasn’t until Nanu hauled himself into the kitchen for a cup of coffee—upsetting five or so Meowth in the process—and Acerola was left alone that she refocused.

Because she wasn’t alone. The ghost hovered over the armrest of the couch, exactly where it had been for the past hour. She had gotten used to its macabre presence. It was almost background noise now, the invisible third wheel in an awkward friendship.

Could Nanu sense it, too? It would be hard to tell since his mood hardly rose above a brooding simmer, but Acerola was beginning to suspect the ghost only showed itself whenever she was present.

“She knew what she signed up for,” it said, and Acerola squinted up at it. Its shoulders had popped back into place, almost like it was trying to reassemble itself. There was less blood, today, too. “She knew what she signed up for, but she didn’t know that what she’d signed up for was too much.”

That night, Acerola lay awake in her bunk at the orphanage, listening to the ocean rage outside.

There was no way around it. She was going to break her rule and ask Nanu about the ghost. She’d go crazy if she didn’t. The agony of uncertainty made her brain itch.

She’d thought about going the indirect route, maybe asking the trial captains what they knew, dig up some new information so she could solve the mystery on her own, but that option came with its own mess of complications. She had to bite the bullet, no matter how scary. She needed confirmation.

During the week it took Acerola to summon up her courage, she joined Nanu on a house call to the trial site south of Tapu Village. They walked the length of the beach. He kept above the tideline, but she strolled below, leaving gushy footprints in the black sand.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” he asked. They’d rounded the beach by then, slipped under the shade of the crumbled roadway.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You’re at the station every other day now. Got a motive?”

“Cause you seem lonely,” Acerola said, even as her gaze wandered.

Spirits were made of thin smoke and memories, but the ghost loomed behind Nanu like a dense, foreboding shadow. Now, not only were its shoulders level, but its stomach had stitched back up and its neck had lost the sickening tilt. It looked almost healthy, and its eye pierced Acerola in judgement.

Nanu, too, looked skeptical.

She swallowed hard and smiled wide. “No, really! I mean, no one at the orphanage really likes me, so I don’t have any friends. After a while, I kind of got used to it. I started thinking that maybe I just belong by myself. I like being alone. But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy when I have someone to spend time with.”

Nanu considered this. “Sure. Dunno what else I expected.”

The ghost turned to face the sea. “She was too friendly,” it said. “A doormat. That was only part of the problem.”

They continued up a set of salt-worn stairs and across the parking lot of the Megamart. The building was a concrete husk, the cheerful signage left to peel away in the face of the ocean storms, the roof held together by creeping vines and the persisting will of its occupants.

Nanu went to pry at the sliding doors, but an invisible force beat him to it. The glass rattled as they slammed open. An enraged wail that scrapped the bottom of Acerola’s gut roiled out, and two bolts of shadowy energy shot forth. Nanu stumbled into the chain-link fence and the bolts sizzled past, colliding with the crumbled stump of the lighthouse in the bay.

“Son of a bitch,” he said, craning his neck. “He hasn’t been here for at least a month.”

“What’s happening?” Acerola asked. “You said we were checking on the trial site, but that’s a natural disaster!”

The scene inside the mart was apocalyptic, like someone had shaken a jar full of bees and unleashed hell, only the bees were ghost-types and the hell that had been unleashed was entirely literal. Gengar chased a cloud of Shuppet as a Banette toppled rows of shelving. Shadow Balls rebounded like pachinko. Ectoplasm dripped from unseen corners.

“Someone tipped me off that the captain here has been slacking,” Nanu said. “Not that I blame him for avoiding this garbage dump of a day job, but if he’s gonna be this irresponsible I’d appreciate a formal letter of resignation. Now he’s gone and made it my problem.”

Acerola put hands on her hips. Peering deep into the Megamart, she saw the chaos, the infighting, the linoleum coated in spectral smog, but she also saw a bunch of children. This exact song and dance played out at the orphanage daily, and she wouldn’t stand to see it recreated. There was childish and then there was bratty.

She marched through the doors, and when Nanu went to grab her, she shrugged him off. Inside, the air dropped ten degrees. She balled her fists and shouted, “Alright, are you guys done or what?”

A Shadow Ball shot from the dark. She pressed the trigger on the pokéball at her side and a metal blade cleaved the air, shattering the attack into shards of smoke. Her Dhelmise’s anchor swung like the pendulum of a clock, rocking to a stop.

“Honestly, you get left alone for a couple weeks and it’s like Lord of the Cutieflies in here! Are you ghost-types or are you toddlers?”

A hundred sets of dead white eyes stared. It was quiet as thick swirls of dust drifted to the ground. Then there was a twitch in the shadows, and as one the residents of the Megamart descended upon her.

“Oh, real mature! Use Brutal Swing, Holoholo!”

The ghosts scattered like bowling pins, backhanded by an anchor that flashed pitch black.

“Now, Heavy Slam!”

Holoholo carved swaths of destruction through the aisles, evaporating spectral limbs and laying waste to the petulant ghosts. It was a full-on hoard battle. Acerola went hoarse shouting commands, covering the blind spots that the glass eye of a Dhelmise could not see. Gastly wailed. Banette spat. Mimikyu screeched until, finally, the mart fell silent once more. Bits of spectral energy ebbed on the floor and spirits grumbled in hidden crannies, but it was all aftermath. Not a dissident ghost remained. Holoholo dragged their anchor across the tile as a last warning before being recalled to Acerola’s palm.

She caught her breath, almost choking on the dust, but a voice spoke from the doorway and it sent a jolt of ice down her spine. “I’m never the hero,” it said, “that’s my problem. I let other people do the rushing in. I let other people hesitate. I let other people make mistakes.” The voice was feminine and full of sunshine. And in first-person now. Somehow, that was so much worse.

Nanu was waiting at the door, hands in his pockets and ghost at his shoulder. “Not bad, kid.”

As Acerola stepped back into the light, she did her best to shake off the goosebumps. “Why do you sound so surprised about it? I beat you, remember? Twice!”

“But you still can’t take a compliment.”

“Bluh.” She stuck out her tongue.

“Eloquent,” he said. “I feel obligated to reward your housecleaning, so you wanna head into Malie? There’s decent sushi.”

Acerola had had her fill of ghosts, so spending more time around Nanu wasn’t the most tempting offer.

She hesitated, and he ruffled her hair. “I’ll pay,” he said, “so let’s go.”

Free food. That decided it.

She took one last look at the Megamart—nothing to see but bitter Pokémon licking their wounds—and hurried to follow Nanu across the parking lot. As they walked back towards Tapu Village, she was too winded to notice the two extra shadows that floated beside her on the sand.

Acerola chose a sunny day for the confrontation, hoping the blue skies would give her confidence, but for the entire journey up to Route 17 it only served to rattle her stomach. By the time she arrived at the station, she was almost feverish.

It took a dozen knocks before Nanu swung open the door. “Again with this?” he shouted, then stopped when he saw who it was. “Huh.”

Every bit of Acerola stood straight on end. “What are you doing?” Her voice skipped up an octave.

“Sorry,” he said, only slightly apologetic. “Went and tracked down the captain yesterday, finally got him to resign, but he wouldn’t quit arguing and followed me home. Asshole. Guess that’s my fault for not keeping tabs on who gets chosen.”

“Eesh.” Acerola wandered inside.

“You know, it’s good you’re here.”

“Really?” Her nerves spiked. “That’s a first, but I came here to ask you about something, actually.”

Nanu closed the door and went to slouch on the arm of the sofa. “By all means.” He fiddled something in his hand, flipped it over and over like a coin—a captain’s sigil, the four-petal token that marks their station.

“Were there ever accidents when you were doing your police work?”

“Of course. There’s accidents in every line of work.” His tone is flat, revealing nothing, but the ghost snapped into view.

Acerola had been so nervous that she’d forgotten to look for it at first, but there it was, staring at her and more complete than ever before. There was barely any blood now. It could have been mistaken for a human woman, and its appearance bolstered her.

“What about a woman with short hair?”

Nanu stopped fiddling. “What about her?”

“Who?”

“I— what are you talking about?”

“I’m just wondering if you ever maybe worked with a woman like that, and if she had an accident where she got sort of—“ Acerola thought back to the first time she’d seen the ghost. “—chewed?”

There was a beat of silence.

“No one should know about that.”

It was mostly disbelief, but there was something like desperate guilt in his voice, and it made Acerola’s stomach drop. She’d always known it was a possibility, but what if Nanu was responsible for the creation of his own ghost?

“How do you know about what happened on Poni?” he asked. “That mission was classified and locked under seven kinds of clearance. You must have been three years old at the time. How do you know?”

“The mission? I don’t—“

“Who told you? Who else knows?”

“It’s just me, but—“

“Then how?” He was shouting now. He wasn’t a tall man by any standard, but his meager height was more than enough to tower over Acerola.

“I don’t know about any of that other stuff,” she said. “I only know about the lady because she’s a ghost that follows you around.”

“A ghost.” And there was that dehumanizing stare, the incredulous eyebrows, that realization that Acerola was off her rocker. She’d seen it all before.

Tears beaded in the corners of her eyes. “I promise I’m not lying. It’s just that I’m the only one who can see her. She floats around beside you and talks about being excited to see the sun and about how she feels bad for letting other people make mistakes.”

Nanu clenched a fist around the captain’s sigil. “Leave.”

“What?”

“I said leave. Get out. Right now.”

“I’m sorry,” Acerola mumbled as she backed away, felt for the doorknob, slipped outside. “I’m really sorry.”

Once free of the pointed, angry energy roiling through the station, she let the tears fall freely. She was so stupid. What was she thinking, trying to be some great detective? Nothing good ever came from telling people about their tagalongs, so of course the worst ghost would cause the worst reaction.

She wasn’t scared, only embarrassed and guilty, so she went around the side of the station to sulk and calm down. She slid down the wall and sat with her knees up to her chest.

The ghost sat down beside her.

Acerola’s mouth fell open and nothing but sputtering came out.

It had fully recovered to the point of moving its arms and legs as naturally as any living person might, and it laced its fingers together and stared off into the middle distance. “We knew it would be dangerous,” it said, “but none of us knew the true nature of what we’d been sent to do. In that sense, we were doomed from the start. A certain one of us especially.”

Acerola listened in wonder, watched the ghost gesture effortlessly with its hands, as it told a story in what she now understood to be someone else’s voice. The sound itself was bright, warm, and cheerful, but the sentences were short and tired, the beginnings clipped, the allusions dark.

It told the tale of three heroes who journeyed to an exotic island to hunt a beast. But they were foolish. They underestimated the beast, overestimated each other, panicked, fell apart, and the weakest of them died. Her death was entirely preventable, and the blame flew back and forth, rubbing salt into fresh wounds and driving a rift between the two remaining heroes. They weren’t heroes after all.

“So, really, I lost two people that day,” the ghost said, but then it froze stock still, its mouth still open. And it vanished.

Acerola was left alone to contemplate her new perspective. It made her feel very small.

After a while, she heard the door to the station open, footsteps, and then Nanu peered around the corner. “Sorry about that,” he said.

“It’s fine,” she said, talking into her knees.

“I can answer your questions now, if that’s what you want.”

“It’s fine,” she repeated and stood up, shaking, to dust off her dress. “You sort of already did. I’m going home now.”

A week passed at a slog, and Acerola stayed far away from Route 17 and the police station. The days were long. She slept until noon, wandered the beaches like a zombie, the ghost’s story—Nanu’s story—ringing in her head.

He found her on the cliffs west of town, overlooking the ocean, as her Drifblim played in the wind blowing off the water.

“There you are.”

Acerola turned, arms already folded protectively over her chest.

“I kept waiting for your next visit,” he said. “Took me longer than it should have to realize you weren’t coming back.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop that. We’ve both already apologized, so there’s no need to be redundant.” She glared at him, and he sighed. “I am sorry. For blowing up. But that part about seeing ghosts, that was true, huh?”

The ghost was back to being a piece of human pulp, back to floating rooted at Nanu’s side.

“You believe me?” Acerola asked. “The ghosts, the woman, all that?”

“It would explain a few things.”

She gave a nervous laugh, relief washing over her. “Yeah, probably.”

“And I guess that’s the real reason why you were always hanging around.” He sounded disappointed. “Ghost hunting. I knew there had to be something.”

“Well, maybe not the only reason,” she said. “The cats were a nice bonus.”

He cracked a genuine smile, however thin. “Glad to hear it. One more thing.” He tossed something towards her, something that glinted in the sun, and she clapped it between her palms.

She opened her hands, and it was the captain’s sigil.

“It’s yours if you want it,” he said. “I was going to give it to you last time, but…”

Acerola held the sigil like it was made of fractured glass. “It’s mine?”

“You showed the Megamart ‘mon who was boss, and you seem to have a horrifying amount of free time, so I thought it’d be a good fit. The only problem being that if you take it I’ll have no chance of ever getting rid of you.”

Being appointed to oversee a trial was a huge honour. “For real?” she asked. “I get to be the new captain?”

“Don’t look so thrilled.”

She rushed forward to hug him—it was more of a tackle, really—and he stumbled back.

“Thank you,” she said. “Thanks so much.” She was less thankful for the position than she was grateful to keep her new friend.

“Yeah,” he said, “but no slacking off, got it?”

“That’s probably the most hypocritical thing you’ve ever said, but alright. I’ll do my best.”

Acerola’s schedule once again underwent a radical shift. Trial season was fast approaching, and she threw herself into preparations: tidying the Megamart, setting up her challenge, wrangling the Totem Mimikyu into more or less civil behaviour. Her remaining free time saw her up on Route 17, doing her best to be as annoying as humanly possible.

The visits to the Malie library dithered until they disappeared entirely, but that was okay. Her shadows weren’t human. They wouldn’t miss her. And as warm and familiar as the library felt, she had new places she could call home.

#acerola #acerola pokemon #nanu #kahuna nanu #pokemon sun and moon #its so long im sorry!

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