Pokemon Oneshots

Arven x Reader || The Regular and His Dreams

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My family, for as long as our history records stood in Paldea, always owned the quaint little shop that was now passed down to me. It was old and rickety — all creaky wooden flooring and ancient stained glass. And it was just downtown, so it was well known... well, locally, at the very least. Anyone who had lived in the area, even just briefly, knew of our excellent selection of your everyday sandwich-making ingredients.

Yes, that's right, sandwiches. It was a treasured tradition, a family heirloom, and so on. That is to say, the beloved recipes. To be completely honest, I wasn't always that jazzed at the thought of inheriting the slips of paper that give you instructions on a lunch menu.

After a time, though, it actually became appealing, and I looked forward to one day owning the small shop. Once I was old enough to do more than minor chores and deliveries here and there, my fantasies of owning my own shop grew. With the help of my mother, I, too, became enraptured by the prospect of our family's living.

It was a hobby, at best, to make sandwiches. On your resume, you can't exactly state: I like sandwiches. You can't dazzle that up anymore without sounding even more foolish. But that's alright since I didn't think I needed anything more than the shop.

Unfortunately, as time passes everyone by and the world keeps spinning, you grow up and out, and at some point that I can't exactly name, staying tied down to the tiny town I lived in suddenly didn't seem all that amazing.

Alas, the only other path would be a Pokemon Trainer, something I didn't think I'd be cut out for. Traveling with no real aim other than to battle others? Thanks, no.

So, as can be expected, the shop was passed onto me, and the days of routine that I never noticed settled into me. It was a constant cycle, every day. The shine and appeal seemed to fade. Clean up the shop and reshelve, open up for the day, serve customers with a plastered smile, close shop, and fall into bed that night utterly exhausted. How did my parents manage?

I'd asked for their secrets, but they had none. No tricks, just work. I suppose my innocent days of playing around with the shop's items and such were gone. As I stared out the window one day, spacing out without any shame due to the lull in activity, I began to regret wanting to take this on.

While my parents still helped here and there, they thought I could handle it. And I could. But... I didn't want to. Paldea was huge, I knew. And I wanted to see more of it. I didn't even go to that one glamorous, prestigious academy most people attend. What I would do to leave even for just an extended vacation of sorts...

"Hey, (Y/N). Earth to (Y/N)."

I was abruptly pulled out of my thoughts at the inquiry. When I glanced up, straightening my posture from behind the front counter, I realized it was one of our regulars. "Arven? What's up?" I asked.

"Do you have any more of those locally grown Tomato Berries from earlier this week?" Arven, the regular in particular, asked. "They tasted amazing, really." He always came multiple times a week to buy ingredients for his picnics and such, and also because he likely lives alone, from what I've seen and pieced together about him.

"Ah, we just ran out," I admitted. "They must've been pretty crazy good since they sold so easily. Probably the low price and quality."

He nodded in understanding. "Do you know where I could get some more then?"

After a brief moment of hesitation, I decided to go with it. "Actually... They're from my family's garden. Why?"