Dark Dreams
"Grimsley, the Dark-type specialist of the Unova League Elite Four."
"Shauntal, the Ghost-type specialist of the Unova League Elite Four."
"Why are you at my house?"
"The Elite Four are very close, you know. We gave each other our addresses, remember?"
Right about now, Shauntal wished she had never given her address to the other Elite Four members. Actually, she only wished she hadn't given to Grimsley. Caitlin and Marshal were certainly not as annoying as Grimsley.
Grimsley was a two-eyed, scarf-wearing cretin. Not that she liked him in the first place, anyway—his Dark-types were a nemesis for her Ghost-types. His suave talk and flourishing gestures made Shauntal sick; she couldn't be around him much.
"A lovely house you have. The dark palette of colors appeals to me. Although, some gold wouldn't hurt here and there…"
She scowled. Every time he opens his mouth, some dumb words pop out of it. "I don't need gold in my house. The color is too bright to my taste."
"Oh? Is that so? I just might have to change your mind before I leave," he remarked, his face close to hers.
Shauntal felt his warm breath on her cheeks, and instantaneously pushed him back. "What are you doing here, anyway? I'm working on novel; you are very much disrupting my work."
Grimsley poised himself, fixing his collar and sleeves and pretending to wipe the dirt off of his clothes. "Am I? My, my—my timing is perfect. Could I see the novel you are writing?"
"Not in this lifetime, Grimsley. My writing is classified."
"Then what's the point of writing if you won't even let others see it? Unless, of course, it's a diary." He said, his eyebrows raising at the word "diary," almost as if cluing in to the remote possibility that it was indeed a diary.
"How dare you say that? Writing can be personal, and it does not absolutely have to be a diary. Besides, I don't want other people to read my works."
"And why is that? C'mon, Shauntie—a quick read wouldn't hurt."
"One, don't call me "Shauntie"; two, you are absolutely not reading my works."
"You're being a sullen woman. Just let me see; Caitlin and Marshal told me it was very well written. Why would you let them read it, but not me?"
Her brain froze. She had totally forgotten she let Caitlin and Marshal read it.
"Caitlin, Marshal—do you mind reading this first draft for me?" Shauntal asked, handing them a thick stack of papers.
"We'll gladly read it for you, Shauntal." Caitlin yawned, Marshal taking the papers from her.
"Great! Just give it back to me when you're done; I have a battle I need to attend."
Skimming over the first few pages, the two had realized something.
"Did she… mean to give this to us?" Caitlin gasped.
"I don't know… But it sounds like Grimsley has got himself an admirer," Marshal chuckled, a think smirk painting his lips.
—————
"Hey, you two! Done reading it yet?"
"Yes; we skimmed over it. A few grammatical errors on pages 10, 27, 83, and 149—but, either than that, it's very well written. However…" Caitlin trailed off, giving a look towards Marshal. "…Did you mean to give it to us?"
"Huh? Why do you say that?"
"Because," Marshal took a deep breath, "it's quite 'in depth' about your infatuation with Grimsley…"
"Oh…" Shauntal chuckled. "Actually, the manuscript is correct; I really did mean to give you that one. If you all may, please don't tell Grimsley." She reassured, twiddling her thumbs.
"Don't worry, we won't; however, I thought you hated the man, Shauntal. You don't speak very fondly of Grimsley, usually." Caitlin inquired.
"I know, but…" Her face got redder and redder with each word.
"Don't worry, Shauntal. If he ever gives you trouble, I can kick his Dark-type's asses with my Fighting-type warriors!" Marshal whispered into her ear, giving a wink when he pulled away.
Her face was a brilliant shade of crimson at this point.
"Shauntal? Shaun-ta-al? Are you there?" Grimsley said, as he waved his hand in front of her face.
"Eh?" She said, as she snapped out of her flashback, quickly wiping off the apparent blush. "Oh, I'm very sorry. I spaced out."
"No worries. Everyone does that," he said reassuringly, gesturing his hand. "So… the novel, please?"
"Never, Grimsley."
"Tough woman. I do wonder what you wrote that only Marshal and Caitlin can read, but not me?" He questioned, eyebrows raised and hand on his chin. "What did you write about—me?" Grimsley guessed, his hand now on Shauntal's chin.
Shauntal's eyes grew big, and quickly diverted her look somewhere else.
"Blushing, Shauntie? So you did write about me. If I'm the subject, shouldn't I at least read it?"
She shook her head. "If you could, please leave now."
"Ah, I hope I can read your writings in the future, Shauntie. See you at the League." Grimsley said, with a 3-finger salute as he was promptly pushed out of the door.
Shauntal quickly slammed the door, hastening back to her work desk—before realizing something very bad. "My writing! Where is it? That cretin better not have taken it!"
"Ah, Liepard, you see—when your opponent is dazed, go ahead and attack while you can," Grimsley whispered, caressing the purple feline's fur. "Like me, for instance. I went ahead an stole Shauntal's manuscript when she zoned out."
He carefully pulled out the stack of paper from under his coat, a smirk appearing. "She didn't know what was coming, did she?"
His Liepard simply replied with a short purr.
"Dark dreams, Shauntal—because I hope I occupy your mind as you occupy mine."
A/N: Yep, that's how it ends. I was wondering whether to put in a short excerpt from Shauntal's novel, but nah. I'm thinking of writing a sequel, though?
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed my longest fic ever! It was fun to write, because RolandShipping is one of my favorites. Please tell me any thoughts, and thank you for reading!