I've been reading a bunch of MalevolentShipping on this site and I suddenly came to like this shipping, so I thought I should write something about them. Also, there is one-sided Comashipping (couldn't resist, sorry!)

Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon. Somebody living on the other side of the globe does.

Fallen down on an armchair near a fresh cleaned window, his brown eyes gazed idly outside at the happy facades of the houses in Pallet Town. Somewhere in the distance, the red roof of Professor's laboratory grazed the azure arch, slightly taller than the other buildings. His gaze left the panorama of the town and he glanced at the room surrounding him. It hadn't changed at all; his room was the same since he first left this house when he was just a child: Pokemon themed things everywhere, from the calendar to the pillows lying on his bed. On the night table sat the clock which failed to wake him up then, giving him the chance to meet his best friend of all, Pikachu.

A little smile appeared on his lips as he was surrounded by so many familiar things, but it vanished quickly. He couldn't understand why, but he wasn't feeling complete, which was weird. What could possibly be missing? He was back home, in Pallet Town, in the place he loved the most with the people he loved the most. He had defeated Paul in the Sinnoh League and finally took an important step to becoming a Pokemon Master and…and here everything was raveling.

He remembered well the fight in the League against him. He remembered every move that his and Paul's Pokemon had made during this fight. He remembered the crushing, overwhelming joy which raided over him when the last Pokemon of Paul passed out. And of course, he remembered the look of pure hate and anger on Paul's face as he put his Pokemon back in the Pokeball, calling it useless and cursing through his gritted teeth. The happiness surrounding Ash had been shadowed by the event. And then was when he realized that in that journey through Sinnoh his main goal had been not to win the League, but to impress Paul. He wanted Paul to notice him, to recognize him as a worthy opponent; to admire him. All other priorities were secondary to impressing Paul.

And then it became all Paul, Paul, and Paul again. A small obsession had formed itself inside Ash's head, until one day, Dawn; the sweet, innocent Dawn; had told him to stop acting so lovestruck over the purple-haired teen. Lovestruck. The word hit Ash right in the head and he fought in vain with a violent shade of red attempting to set his whole face on fire. He liked Paul, but he hated him.

A sigh left his plump lips and lost itself into the silence of the room. His mind was full of regrets now.

"Neee, it looks like you have just lost your chance with the prune head." His conscience was scolding him. A cold embrace sank him into darkness, the feeling of two slender arms wrapping around his waist from behind was unconfortable, unwanted. "Not like you ever had a chance in the first place." It chuckled at him and teased him, and that was irking Ash. He didn't need to be reminded that Paul practically ignored him. Showed no interest. Another chuckle and Ash jerked himself angrily, but the grip was tighter than he thought. The breath of the person tickled the right side of his neck as his slender body glued itself to his back, sending a light shiver down his spine.

"He hates you." The voice hissed, almost amused. Ash suddenly turned around and he was met with…himself. Dark, shadowed eyes fixed him intensely. Sickly pale skin seemed to sparkle in the profound darkness surrounding them. A copy of himself made of his despair was staring back at him with an amused expression on his face.

"You sure are down, little boy." He whispered with a fake compassion, trapping Ash again into his arms and pressing his body into his own. A feeling of warmth overwhelmed Ash and made him bury his head into the soft jet black hair of his own conscience. A hand patted him on the back, soothingly as a hot breath rapped onto the curve of his neck temptingly. Ash's hand slowly found its way to the back of the other one and travelled down to his waistband into an awkward embrace.

The head resting on his shoulder drew back and the pools of hot, melted tar tempted him into closing the gap between their lips. They brushed against each other before pressing more aggressively, more hungrily, their tongues melting together in a dance. Ash's closed lids trembled.

"Paul..." the moan left his lips as soon as the kiss ceased with a wet sound. Ash's eyes opened abrupty at the sound of a really colorful laugh.

"You lovestruck moron." The voice was gleeful. "Did you think that Paul would ever kiss you? Or even look at you like that? Well, then, you're a hopeless fool." Fury took over Ash, who didn't think twice before sinking his fist right into the figure's stomach with all of his force. Suddenly, his lungs had been emptied of air and he choked, his arms wrapping around his own stomach, which felt like it had been split in two. He crouched and kneeled as pain throbbed through his midsection.

Another laugh and he felt like he was going insane. He heard the other's steps, heard his kneecaps crackle softly when they bent and his body towering over him. Two gentle hands cupped each side of his head and a pair of soft lips glued themselves to his forehead, his fingers brushing against his temples.


"Ash." The boy startled softly, his head shooting up and his eyes flying to the doorframe, where his mother stood, with a broom in her hands and Pikachu on her shoulder. The electric Pokemon jumped on the floor and ran into the boy's lap, who absently caressed the top of his head.

"Are you okay, dear?" Delia asked, her lips stretching into a warm, motherly smile. Ash just nodded, returning her a smile, but at the same time fearing that it may look fake.

"Don't worry, lady, I'm taking a goooood care of him." A figure chuckled, caressing the top of Ash's head just like a father does with his child.

Heh, I hope it doesn't suck too much xD Tell me what you think xD