Wheedle (ch 3)

⚠️⚠️Content warning! Please read first!⚠️⚠️

This story involves mpreg (tmpreg, unmentioned.) and vomit mentions, but also dark subject matter, such as mental abuse and more. I don’t want to give away spoilers but I also don’t want anyone to come across content that may be triggering for them, so if there is any chance any dark topics at all might be hard for you, please skip over this story.

This is a bit of a long story, a lot of which has been written when I needed to vent. So please expect a fair amount of angsty and self indulgent dialogue.

———

If Leon felt tired at the start of his pregnancy, it was nothing compared to how he felt a few more months in. Oleana had been made to promise Leon she would not be punishing him for his display in front of the Hammerlocke gym two months prior, but her constant dragging him around Galar, running him ragged with business trips and errands, was absolutely intentional on her end.

As soon as he started really showing, at the end of his third month, Leon finally took a trip back home. Of course, Hop and their mother were already fully aware that he was pregnant, but they treated the news as- well, news either way. Mum got in a good happy cry, pulling Leon close to where she sat at the kitchen table so she could poke little kisses at his belly, while Hop berated him playfully for losing his abs.

Leon constantly picked at Rose as he progressed, hoping to convince him to relieve him of his contract. Five months pregnant and Rose had hardly budged on the topic.

He’d been there for nearly 16 years- wasn’t it about time they got a new face for the company?

No- no, of course not… how would people recognize the company without their beloved champion there to endorse it?

Leon technically lost his last battle- shouldn’t they consider it a loss and put the gym challenge on hold?

He wasn’t feeling his best that day, how could they expect him to fight his best in that condition? They’ll just have to prove he’s still got it.

“Please?”

“Leon- can’t you see we need you still?” Rose said, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He was getting annoyed, that’s for sure.

“But Rose, you nearly have a monopoly over Galar. You can’t possibly thrive off of me alone.”

“You are the face of our company.”

“No, you are! You created it! I just want to leave!”

Rose’s chair slid backwards, knocking against the wall of windows that overlooked Wyndon, as he stood up suddenly.

“Get off of it, Leon!” Rose snapped. “You signed the contract, and that’s it! Case closed, conversation over. Period.”

Leon recoiled, only having legitimately pissed Rose off once in his life. But that only fueled him more.

“I didn’t sign it in blood! I was ten,” he growled back. “I was a child. I couldn’t even read half of the words in that contract, let alone tell the difference between a kind man hoping the best for me, versus a predator.”

Rose’s eyes flew open wide. His stance straightened up, making him look frighteningly large all of a sudden. Leon understood why Oleana was in charge of the bad attitude. She was disposable.

“Predator!” Rose scoffed heavily, smacking his hand on the table. “You have the bloody nerve to call me that to my face?”

“I do now.”

Akin to his name, Rose’s face grew a harsh red, and Leon worried he would pop a vein in his forehead. It was when Rose took a few threatening steps around his desk that Leon’s adrenaline exited his body immediately, and he flew to the back of the room, further distancing himself from the man. His change in bravery seemed to also flip the switch in Rose’s brain, and his expression dropped from enraged to worried.

“Leon- my apologies. Please speak to Oleana about checking you for any deficiencies. We will get you on a set of vitamins. This attitude isn’t like you.”

As much as Leon wanted to continue to argue, he just didn’t have the strength. Real fear was only manageable once every so often.

After a quick trip to the top level’s restroom to heave his guts up from the nerves, he finally, begrudgingly, made his way back down the lower levels to be pulled aside by Oleana.

“I’ve already scheduled you for a doctor's appointment, as requested by the President. We will leave in an hour,” she said, rummaging around in a bag on a nearby table. “In the meantime, here. I have a new shirt for you, a few sizes bigger.”

Leon caught the shirt, the same design as the one he wore during battles, and unraveled it. It was enormous- but he guessed that that was all Oleana had cared to have made at that point. Those sleeves could probably fit loose around Milo’s biceps.

The doctor he was taken to was, rightfully so, slightly appalled that Oleana was so persistent about putting him on some sort of medication. She spoke too much- suggesting anything. Vitamins, antidepressants, antianxiety, pain killers. Something to relax him. Leon calmly requested a tranquilizer after the doctor had politely asked Oleana to head back to the front office so that he could have a moment alone with his patient. The doctor could only shake his head in bewilderment, noting that tranquilizers would seem to be the way to go with the way she spoke about him, right in front of him, like he was some sort of wild pokemon.

To calm the woman’s mind, Leon was prescribed some prenatal vitamins, and a bottle of magnesium pills. Neither were dangerous to take too much, or too little, of, but it was enough to calm Oleana. And that seemed to relieve the doctor equally as much as it did Leon.

Leon knew it wasn’t a deficiency, or hormones, causing him to become more outward with his anger. The second he felt movement in his stomach, feeling his baby move for the first time, (which was, to say the least, equal parts thrilling and nauseating) was the exact moment he felt his protection for his child grow tenfold. And his fear of getting in trouble decreased. Slightly.

Talking wasn’t working. Leon could always blackmail. He’d been there long enough, he remembered the pregnancy scare Oleana had after a particularly fond moment with Rose back when Leon was still a teen. He could always dig up the dirt around that one. Or, when he had turned 22 and learned that the casino in Wyndon was rigged to prevent anyone from winning any more than three thousand pounds while offering ‘jackpots’ of three hundred thousand pounds. But… Leon wasn’t that awful of a person, right?

Not yet. Semi empty claims could only get him so far.

…That being said, he didn’t entirely plan to ruin a few commercial shoots.

He was either incredibly lucky or incredibly unlucky that Rose didn’t seem to believe in the concept of a “dress rehearsal”, and always opted to stream commercials and interviews live on the spot. Not even Oleana could figure that one out- but it was Rose. Apparently it was too trivial to argue.

It was midwinter- Leon was nearly seven months pregnant. He was chilly, he was tired, and he was already feeling particularly nauseous that morning when Rose opted to fly them out to Circhester to film a live commercial for the Bob's Your Uncle food chain. The thought alone of even being within the vicinity of greasy, heavy, and curiously wet food had already prompted him to retch before he had the chance to climb aboard the Corviknight taxi with Rose and Oleana. Rose was looking a mixture of concerned, perturbed, and exhausted all at once with him.

“Please, tell me you’re finished with that,” he asked tiredly, shielding his eyes and keeping his middle finger plugged into his ear as Leon was sick again. Leon hated throwing up, as any normal human did- but he sure did get a kick from squicking Rose out. He had recently learned that the man suffered from a terrible curse known as “sympathy barfing” whenever he witnessed Leon perform the act. Perhaps that was his small taste of karma for the things he’d done during his business life.

“It was your idea to market off of my pregnancy. It was not my choice to inherit my mother’s debilitating morning sickness,” Leon gasped after swishing and spitting from a water bottle that Oleana handed out to him.

And Leon knew he was even more right on when Rose didn’t respond. Rose shut his mouth when an argument didn’t go his way- probably because he thought it made him seem like he was too big to have the last word. It really just proved to Leon that he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t out him as a massive jackass.

Needless to say- Macro Cosmos had won when it came to marketing Leon’s unborn child. The thought of how many people had bought photos of his ultrasounds- plastered them on their walls, waved them around at live shows, sent them through postage with their personal messages that didn’t involve Leon in the slightest, made him absolutely ashamed. How are you doing, Matilda? Weather’s been balmy. Look at this celebrity ultrasound I bought as a postcard.

He’d already collaborated with the maternity shops in Circhester and Motostoke, having to regretfully advertise a similarly designed maternity shirt to his own for sale, and swallow his embarrassment having to try on actual maternity clothes. Why didn’t a single maternity shop just sell loose fitting jumpers and joggers? What were all of the seams for?

“Well, you ought to be hungry now,” Rose picked back up after Leon had comfied himself into the seat next to Oleana, covering himself with his shawl like a blanket. “We’ll go over proper script with you once we arrive, but it will go somewhat like this; camera catches you taking a few bites from one of Uncle Bob’s famous Sloppy Bob sandwiches, and you will talk about how their pulled pork is so good, you could eat enough for two people.”

“That sounds cheap,” Leon moaned, pulling his shawl up just enough to hide half of his face.

“It’s funny. People will see the commercial and think- wow, Leon can eat their food even while pregnant, it must be special!” Rose acted out the forced excitement of some potential customers, and even Oleana winced. “Though, deep down, we know it’s absolute rubbish of food. But- they’re still popular, and affordable, so we’ll take any promotion we can.”

“You’re really going to make me eat a Sloppy Bob?” Leon asked, already starting to feel queasy all over again, and Oleana knocked her heel against his shoe as she held a hand out.

“It isn’t bad. But please, let us go over the details once we land. I would prefer not to be stuck in a taxi with you while you are sick.”

If he had the energy to laugh at them, he absolutely would have. But the thought of eating at all, let alone something from Bob’s Your Uncle, apparently had him so green, that the server helping organize the commercial had begged them to take a few practice takes without actually biting into the sandwich.

The smell of the restaurant wasn’t bad- from a long distance. But the closer you got, the more it smelled particularly of glorified body odor. Maybe that was just Leon’s senses mucked up from the pregnancy- but still. Not great. All he needed was a few minutes of fresh air, and then he could probably power through the commercial without any issues. If he really concentrated.

But, much to his dismay, Oleana stood stock still in the doorway, refusing to budge even an inch. Even when he pleaded with her to let him out.

“Leon, the commercial is not but fifteen seconds long. We have to get to Hammerlocke directly after this; we’re on a time crunch.”

Leon’s heart (or stomach?) sank, realizing after a few more feeble attempts to snake past her that she was awfully serious. He already was aware that he wasn’t deemed camera ready- he was flushed and clammy, and the inside of the place was so humid, he was sure his hair had tripled in size. They would be wasting a few minutes anyways getting Leon made up to look fresh and healthy, but apparently that seemed more productive to Oleana as opposed to him standing around breathing. He desperately missed that chill from earlier.

The server looked incredibly nervous for him as they watched the makeup crew dab concealer on his face to liven him up. Leon could have bowed directly to their feet when they discretely nudged a trash bin beside his chair. The world was moving in one big, slow, hot flash when Oleana silently counted down behind the camera, giving him the cue to start.

As best as he could manage, Leon sat up straight, tightened the muscles in his face to make him look just a tad bit more alive, and he lifted up the sandwich towards the camera before taking a bite.

Just chew. Just chew- just chew, and swallow it. It’s fine. It’s not that bad. See? You got it. Lines. Say your lines. Don’t throw up.

“Bob’s Your Uncle’s pulled pork sandwich is so good, I could eat enough fo-“

He paused. He wasn’t supposed to pause. He couldn’t help it.

“I-I could e-eat enough for two,” he forced out. But- in an act of rebellion- his body then forced out a violent gag, which he thankfully was able to cover with his hand. The camera was still rolling. He had officially lost every ounce of control of his stomach.

Panicking, he pushed himself off camera in time to vomit directly into the bin that had been brought to him. That server could visit him at his own home for the holidays if they so wanted, he was so grateful for that trash bin.

But then again- he was absolutely horrified. At least he’d made it five months without blundering another live recording.

Out of the corner of his eye, Leon could see Rose sprinting his way past the crowd of workers and camera crew to be sick himself outside on the pavement, and Leon almost felt better knowing that Rose would be sharing his experience, whether he wanted to or not. And that man had eaten lunch. Leon had somehow continued throwing up mouthfuls that day even without having eaten since lunch the previous day.

Leon finally stood up somewhat straight, holding the edge of a table for stability, whilst wrapping his other hand comfortingly around the middle of his stomach. The camera turned back to him. Oh- great Arceus, it was still rolling.

Improv. Go.

“Well- sometimes I can eat enough for two,” Leon hoarsely said, briefly clearing his throat into his fist. He cracked a sheepish, shameful, smile. “But when you’re this far along, sometimes that second person has more of a say in what you order off of the menu than you do. Perhaps I was meant to order the hash.”

Oleana tapped the back of her hand against the camera man’s shoulder, giving him the cue to stop filming and allow the automatic advertisements to roll. She looked mildly disappointed, but… not as bad as Leon had expected. He collapsed tiredly back into the chair after apologizing to the people around him for his scene, pleading grace as the server removed the food from the table and replaced it with a glass of water.

“That wasn't exactly according to plan,” Oleana muttered, pacing around to seat herself next to Leon. “Now we just have to wait and hope the media doesn’t crucify us.”

“I’m sorry. I tried, I really did-“

“I know, Leon,” Oleana said, her voice oddly calm. “I probably would have done the same were I in your position. And it is… quite obvious that the President could say the same thing. It was still a rather embarrassing performance, though.”

Oleana was impressively quick to shoot down her own compliment and Leon didn’t respond nor react to it. He flipped his shawl off of his shoulders onto the back of the chair and tied his hair up. He waited, already mentally exhausted from the battering he knew Rose would hit him with when he returned. He draped his hand over the largest part of his stomach, both soothing the ache from throwing up so violently, as well as checking on his baby habitually, while fanning his face with a spare menu. It was so humid- even if it wasn’t hot, Leon was hot. He’d never experienced hot flashes before becoming pregnant, so he had to assume that was a side effect.

When Rose finally paced back into the restaurant, Oleana stood up from her spot and joined the tv crew. This allowed Rose the chance to slip into her place next to Leon. He was flushed, reaching up shakily with a folded napkin to dab a drop of sweat off of his temple.

“What on earth was that?” He asked quietly through grit teeth. Leon was sure only he had heard him- because he barely heard him. The man was clearly incredibly angry, but he was still reeling from being sick himself. Leon was upset to have to receive a lashing for something he couldn’t control, but he felt an odd sense of pride in his chest knowing that it was his fault that Rose was so disheveled.

“You know it was an accident, Rose,” Leon said, and Rose narrowed his eyes at him.

“You had one bloody job to do today, Nilson. One job! And you messed it up live. Again,” he growled, and Leon’s hand over his stomach gripped at the fabric of his shirt.

“Not even Oleana was this angry at me,” Leon tested him. “You’re the one dead set on doing live commercials. You know, if you wanted something done right, without the chance of massive public failure, you could let us pre-record the advertisements.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job,” Rose snapped, his voice raising significantly. Leon raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly farther away from him. Rose wasn’t this easily angered at the start of Leon’s pregnancy. Leon must be doing something incredibly right- as well as incredibly annoying- to get him that worked up more often. “If you could just hold it down for a few goddamn minutes-“

“Are you just angry at me because you got sick too?” Leon asked, and Rose ground his teeth.

“I threw up on my shoe. Do you have any idea how much these cost to clean?” Rose sneered, his upper lip curling in disgust. “Whatever. Doesn't matter. It’s not like that means anything to you anyways- you don’t care where you throw up, apparently!”

He sighed at himself, fixing his hair. “I will work with the televisors to make sure that advertisement isn’t repeated. Get ready to go, we’re leaving to Hammerlocke for a meeting. Now.”

“I’m not going to a meeting,” Leon argued as Rose stood back up, and the man nearly threw himself back down into the chair.

“I’m sorry- you’re what?”

“I need to go home, Rose. I feel miserable. I’ve thrown up more times today than I can count on both hands, my stomach hurts, I feel faint from the heat, and I need sleep,” Leon counted off his fingers. “I’m due in two months, Rose, and you’re still getting me home at a quarter to midnight and expecting me up at dawn for more work. I feel close to dropping dead!”

Rose’s face was a dark red, and he raised a finger pointedly, opening his mouth to continue yelling-...

Then he realized exactly how many people were watching. How many workers at that food joint, the camera crew, Oleana, and the few customers who had walked in, were all staring at him. This is what Leon wanted. Witnesses.

“What, Rose? What do you want me to do?” Leon urged him under his breath, and Rose stared him down. His finger curled back into a tense fist, which he moved to casually adjust his tie.

“Take tomorrow off.”

“You’re giving me a Saturday off?”

“Fuck it. Sunday too. Take the whole weekend. Sleep well. The championship battles start back up on Monday afternoon, don't be late for them. Catch a cab when you’re ready to leave; Oleana and I have an important business inquiry to get to,” Rose hissed, flattening his coat tail as he stood straight. “See you Monday.”

And with that, before Leon had a chance to respond, Rose stepped briskly out of the building. Oleana followed in immediate tow, just barely glancing back towards Leon with the smallest pinhead amount of sympathy in her eyes. Leon was happy that Rose threw a scene in front of people. But at the same time, he was humiliated. Without the strength to get up and leave, he leaned his arms on the table in front of him and hid his face as he laid his head down. He could feel peoples’ eyes burning holes into him from all angles- but he didn’t really care.

He had lost track of how long he’d been there, when a gentle hand on his shoulder startled him up. He had no idea who he was expecting, but he sure as hell wasn’t prepared to see Raihan and Sonia standing beside him. Raihan had sat himself in the chair that Rose had been in to carefully wrap his arm over Leon’s back. Leon couldn’t even force words out of his mouth before he just started to cry.

“What are you two doing here?” He asked, stuffily and shakily, after a moment, wiping his eyes with a napkin Sonia handed to him.

“Someone recorded Rose yelling at you,” Raihan said, and Leon froze. He wasn’t sure why that surprised him- but maybe it was because Rose had never lost his temper in public before. Raihan removed his arm to dig in his pants pocket to retrieve his phone.

“Look- everyone is ‘at-ing’ Rose’s social media, and Macro Cosmo’s social media, to call them out for treating you unjustly while pregnant.”

“It’ll only be a matter of time before they realize you’re being held captive,” Sonia sighed, sitting in the booth across from the two boys, and folding her arms over her knee. “Then maybe Rose will have to give in and let you go.”

Leon felt his face tense and scrunch up at her words and he clawed at his cheeks as more tears fell.

“I was a good kid,” he sobbed, sticking his hands into his hair at each side of his head as he leaned on the table. “I was good, I didn’t do anything that would make me have to deal with this type of karma, right…? What did I do to deserve to be stuck with that man?”

Sonia tisked, leaning around the table to run her hand through his bangs comfortingly.

“You didn’t do anything. Not a bloody thing,” she said. “What do you say we get out of here and get you home and in bed? We’ll take care of you this weekend.”

Leon sniveled, exhausted, letting Raihan help haul him to his feet as Sonia telephoned the taxi service. Leon left a hearty tip on the table before leaving. All of that work Rose had planned there, all of the stress he put on everyone, and he couldn’t even bother to leave a penny for the workers who dealt with them.

Sonia had requested a slow flyer when summoning a corviknight taxi, knowing that their flying was deemed much smoother than a fast flyer. Just that small gesture made Leon want to start crying all over again, but he managed to hold himself. He was too tired to feel any more emotions that day.

It felt like when they were kids again when they reached Leon’s house. Had it really been that long since the three of them spent quality time together? They’d been ten years old, taking the gym challenge how it had been back then. It was hard to believe that nearly 15 years had passed since. Leon hadn’t realized, in that time of his childhood that flew by doing business for Rose, how much he missed lazing about with his two closest friends. Sonia had gone to work putting together soda and toast for Leon to settle and fill his still upset, and empty, stomach, while Raihan comfied up Leon’s rather dull bedroom with pillows, blankets, and a collection of DVD’s that hadn’t left their Tupperware storage box since Leon moved in. Neither of them allowed Leon to move a muscle the entire night.

After a couple hours of movie watching, the three laid contently across Leon’s bed, the room dimming slowly as the sun set outside, and just talked. About anything and everything. Memories, plans… current events. Things Leon didn’t talk about often, but probably should.

“I know you’re worried, Lee, but you’re still your own person. Being under contract doesn’t mean they own you,” Sonia said, a flavor of bitterness covering her tone after Raihan mentioned that Leon had to shut his phone down just to do things alone outside of work without being questioned. Needless to say, she was not very happy to hear that. “They have a tracker in your phone. I’m surprised they haven’t slapped a house arrest anklet on your leg yet.”

“Yeah,” Leon sighed, digging up his phone from where it had gotten buried under the blankets. He held it up above him, feeling guilty for his Rotom inside of it. He hated shutting it down for extended periods of time, because, as Hop had once so elegantly put it- Leon’s rotom was a clingy one. Most rotoms stayed in a phone for a few years at most as not to exhaust their capabilities, but Leon’s insisted on sticking around since he got his first phone at 16.

“I’ve been considering more recently having rotom transfer into a new phone with a new chip. Possibly from an Alolan dealership so that Macro Cosmos isn't automatically in control of it.”

“Let’s order one now, then, since you won’t let Sebastian brick yours,” Raihan said, sitting up and retrieving his own rotom phone from the side table. “I’m so sick of Rose and Oleana having constant surveillance over you when you’re technically off the clock. Not even the authorities have that power over you.”

He was right. And Leon knew he was, and he knew Sonia was as well. It was a small step that possibly came with big consequences, but it was still a step he needed to take. With Leon’s okay, Raihan immediately dialed up the customs line to transfer his call to Alola.

Leon knew that was something he wanted, but he couldn’t help the feeling of panic and guilt that wormed its way into his gut at the thought of doing something so… independent. He didn’t want to get in more trouble than he’d been in recently- but Sonia and Raihan were right. He was pretty sure it didn’t state anywhere in his contract that he couldn’t have privacy. If he was old enough to order an alcoholic beverage on his own, then he was old enough not to require a tracker that not even most pre-teens had.

The more he thought about it, that guilt in his stomach started to solidify into anger. To Sonia, Raihan, and even his own shock, he even went out of his way to request a different color phone than what he already had. It would be obvious that it was new. He wanted Rose or Oleana to confront him. He wanted to see the looks on their faces when they found out that Leon’s name wasn’t even under Macro Cosmos for it either.

The weekend spent with his two favorite people was exactly what Leon needed. The more they both egged Leon on to start stomping on the eggshells instead of tiptoeing around them, the better he was feeling about standing up for himself. His new phone came in the morning before he had to head back out to Wyndon. It was a shiny, deep, purple, and the only work that he had to do to transfer his data was allow Rotom to move into the new shell. And that was it. The shineless, soulless, and red Macro Cosmos phone was officially out of commission- and it was a massive weight off of his shoulders.