Disclaimer: I don't own Pokemon.

Summary: Frankly, that man was too beautiful for his own good. GrimsleyShauntal, oneshot

Okay! I have been in the Pokemon mood lately, so here is a little fic. I really had fun writing this, so I hope that y'all enjoy reading it! I would love to hear your opinions everything. Would mean a lot. Thanks so much for reading!

Rapid Eye Movement

He is a lip-pursing, head-scratching, knock-out kind of beautiful.

That's the first thing that Shauntal thinks when she sees the dark-type trainer.

She is aware that she might be a bit of a romantic - if the novels she writes are any clue, she is a large romantic - and a few flowery adjectives sprout in her head the minute she sees him, reclined in a large, lavish chair with blood red cushions that seem as soft as lips. The chair is the gilded kind, that of rich men who haven't a care in the world other than the women that they repeatedly ravish.

Shauntal blushes at that.

There is a moment in which she stutters out a hello before he notices her. His eyes meet hers and he lifts the side of his mouth in greeting.


As cliché as it sounds, his voice caressing her name makes chills prick along her spine, makes the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention.

She is shocked that he knows her name, but shouldn't be. He seems like the type that knows everything, even the names of the newer Elite Four members. She isn't sure whether she is flattered or not, so she just says, "Yes."

"Wasn't a question, dear," he says, smiling.

Her face colors and she finds that she has taken to wringing her hands in front of her, something that she does when she is terribly nervous. She watches him, unable to look away for even a second, he is that interest-inducing.

"Right…" she trails off, staring at him with an unconcealed brightness in her eyes. "Grimsley?"

"Correct," he confirms.

Shauntal isn't sure what else to say. She's standing in front of him, looking so inexperienced and insecure compared to him. He radiates confidence from every pore, it seems. Her author's mind grasps at everything at once, a variety of scenes playing out, just waiting to be written down. She finds that her fingers itch with a familiar eagerness, one that she hasn't had in so long.

Too bad that all the scenes she has in mind right now are particularly dirty ones.

She feels her cheeks heat even more, imagining what this may look like. The innocent heroine confronting the Machiavellian archetype who chuckles as he says the only way to save the village is to become his personal slave.

She finds that she has to press her knuckles against her lips to keep from cackling like a schoolgirl.

Her imagination is running wild, the only downside to being an author. Well, she can hardly call it a downside. She rarely gets bored, after all.

Grimsley doesn't look phased. Rather, he looks as if he gets this kind of treatment all the time. His head is propped up by his hand, his elbow resting on the golden arm of his chair. His eyes are soft, yet she can't read anything from them. It is the most peculiar kind of paradox.

She finds that he has been asking her something, yet she hadn't paid attention. She jolts slightly and says, "Yes?"

"I was asking what your purpose here was," he states. His voice is calm and undemanding.

"I just came to…to introduce myself," she said. "I'm…new here."

"Yes," he replies. "I am aware."

"Right." She scratches the side of her head, wondering what had possibly possessed her to do this. Alder had the worst advice possible. He could have at least mentioned that one of the other Elite Four members was gorgeous and intriguing in the most mind-melting way possible.

"It is nice to meet you, Shauntal."

"S-Same here."

"I usually find myself at odds with most ghost-type trainers," he muses lightly, his index finger pressed lightly to his lips. She finds herself staring at the red gem that embeds a ring on that very finger. "Not you, though."

She might as well have been a fire-type trainer for how much heat was gathering on her cheeks.

Shauntal isn't sure what to say to that, so she flounders for words until he speaks again.

"I would very much like you to visit me again."

His tone, the way he says it, is so commanding yet soft that she is almost hypnotized by it. She can't say anything, really, until she fights her way to the phrase, "Of course."

She turns and leaves, descending down the massive staircase that leads to the outside. As she goes to her own room, having met every member of the Elite, she finds herself musing on various book ideas, new stories that have pricked at her mind ever since her encounter with the enigmatic Grimsley.

Shauntal rests on her own chair, picks up a book to read, and sighs, his parting words ringing through her head yet again. She remembers them almost like they were a part of a text she had studied.

"I would very much like you to visit me again."

She blushes and turns a page.

Frankly, that man was too beautiful for his own good.