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Grisham

Grisham sat with his back turned to you, crimson wings splayed out upon the bedsheets with you situated behind him, tweezers in hand. His shirt had long been removed, folded neatly upon the foot of the bed. You steadily combed your way through the soft, rounded feathers upon his back as you plucked them free from offending specks of dust and muck.

“I never realised how soft you are here, Grish,” you hummed, running a gentle hand up along the muscles of his back. The smaller feathers roused in response, fluffing up at your touch. Such beautiful, speckled patterns they had… they decorated the skin of his back like rubies.

Grisham shivered. The colourful feathers that sprouted from his hind fanned and fluttered somewhat before setting. “Have you… not felt those ones before?”

You shook your head, diligently combing through each feather. Plucking free a rather large speck of muck, you flicked it away haphazardly. “Nope. Only your wings and the ones on your neck. Tail feathers too, I guess.”

His head lulled forward in contentment, and a tiny, trilling coo left his throat. He was pleasantly warm to the touch with you now moving to give his wings the same treatment. You felt the jagged, uneven edges of his flight feathers against your finger, running it along the entirety of your lover’s wingspan. They weren’t growing back the way they should… they had been snipped too close to the blood vessels within. It would take a while for them to recover fully.

“…Do these hurt, Grisham?”

He stilled for a moment. Quiet. He lifted his head to look at you over his shoulder, red eyes gazing at you. You had his trust. “Not anymore. But they’re a reminder.”

You frowned. Careful in your motions, you began to comb through his flight-feathers just as you had done the ones dappling his back.

“Griselle still believes she will be able to fly someday,” Grisham’s voice was softer as he spoke — more mournful. “It’s harder for her to accept it.”

The words echoed as your heart tightened. Griselle still believes she will fly again.

“Ah… pardonne-moi. I did not mean to dampen the mood, my dear,” Grisham’s wings retracted back, shining you an apologetic smile. “You do such a splendid job each time. Thank you.”

You shuffled forward on your knees to snuggle up to him as warm feathers wrapped around your side in response. “I do it ‘cause I love you, Gris. And also ‘cause you always do that thing I like at the end…”

He quirked a brow. “Mm? You mean… this?” A familiar rustling you knew all too well sounded from behind you. Glancing backwards, his tail had fanned out in all of its spectacular colours; scarlets, oranges, yellows, even wiry feathers of blue spiralling like fireworks in the midnight sky. The sight always wooed you, your flushed cheeks proof of that.

Griselle

It had been a long, long day of hospitality. Griselle had officially achieved a new record of the shortest amount of time taken to threaten to burn a customer to ashes, as per Grisham’s words. But now, she was in the nest of her own apartment room, splayed out comfortably upon her chest with you straddling her bare back, mindful of her wings. New feathers were growing on her neck and shoulders and they were a pain in the ass to reach. Who better to ask for preening than her own partner?

“Uhh…” you spoke, gently running your fingers up and down the softened feathers upon her skin. They roused and fluffed up almost instantly. Cute. Your fingers soon made contact with a sheathed feather after minutes of them roaming.

Griselle hissed a sharp breath. You froze.

“Sorry! I’m sorry!” You yelped in the same heartbeat as her pained noise, flinging back your hand as though it were its own sentient being.

She simply turned her head to look at you, tongue poking out with a smug smirk. “Got you. Hah. Those don’t hurt, babe.”

You frowned. Oh, so she was in that kind of mood. Pouting, you gently rubbed the keratin between your thumb and finger, watching as the material crumbled with ease to reveal a gorgeous new feather. Using a nearby tissue, you wiped off as much of the leftover keratin as possible. Beneath you, Griselle trilled with her eyes closed, happy and content as the itchiness of her new feathers dissipated.

“That feel good, Elle?” You purred, massaging the area around the newly unsheathed feather to revel in the feeling of her softness. They all held the same ombré as her twintails… such a pretty girl. And you made sure she knew that.

She nodded with a wordless hum, chest rising and falling as your fingers travelled to find another sheath. The keratin was crushed with just as much ease as the last as you leant down to peck a tender, loving kiss to your girlfriend’s head; you were met with the sweetest sound as she lifted it.

“Prrmm?” She trilled, her tail flaring. It wasn’t as grandiose as her brother’s, but it was an endearing sight all the same. In her sleepy daze, her wings began to quiver.

“I swear I’ve heard a Talonflame make that noise before. Hell, even a Tyrantrum,” You teased, scritching the space right behind her ear.

“Prrhhh… mmf, shuddup…” her talons flexed against the softness of the bedsheets, powder-blue eyes gazing back at you with lidded warmth.

A gentle hum left your throat as a few more final keratin sheaths were removed. Griselle deserved to feel peace like this… deserved to feel loved. Her eyes were fixed upon you, a certain glint behind them.

Tucking in her wings, you sat up somewhat as she rolled over onto her back, the soft feathers upon her chest just barely covering her nipples. You felt like prey to a Talonflame as she stared at you; taking your hand in hers, she pressed it to the space between her soft mounds. “Well?”

Your throat went dry, feeling her plush feathers between your fingers. “I, uhh… I think I see another one here.”

Corbeau

He was in an even sourer mood than usual, if such a thing were possible. Had the venom finally seeped from his fangs into his brain? Tentatively, you stepped out of the elevator, having been ushered to the Rust Syndicate’s second floor by Philippe. He knew you were the only one who could pacify Corbeau, even in moods like this.

“Corbeau? You, uhh… you here, honey? You alright?” You called out, footsteps sounding on the marble floor of his suite. The sound of frantic splashing followed by a particularly heavy thwap caught your attention.

“Don’t—! Don’t come in! Damnit!” A voice barked from within the bathroom. The intended result was the opposite as you raced towards the source of the voice, flinging the door open.

“Corbeau?! Arceus above, what are you doing?!”

Tangled up in the coils of his own tail, Corbeau thrashed helplessly upon the tiled floor. It was best advised to leave him to his own devices during shedding, but this particular shed was being a bugger… bits of scale were freed and flaking off, whereas other patches were tight and refusing to move. It looked sore. He gave a guttural hiss, slitted pupils dilating once he craned his neck to look at you.

“I’m… ugh. I’m stuck. This damn shed is pissing me off,” Corbeau huffed, forked tongue darting from his mouth as he attempted to scrub the patches of dry scale with a moistened loofah. The joys of being reptilian.

Past experience of Arbok and Seviper care granted you knowledge of what to do during these moments. You approached your poor lover, carefully taking the loofah from his clawed hands. “Beau… that’s only gonna irritate it. You need to soak yourself, honey. Your skin’s too dry for you to properly shed.”

He narrowed his eyes, glaring at the shimmering violet and magenta scales of his coils as if they personally offended him. In a way, they did. As you spoke, his tongue continued to flick out past his fangs. “I’ve been doing that, doll. I’ve tried everything.”

“Never had a stuck shed before, huh?”

“…No. It was always simple until now. You sure I can’t just rip it off?” Corbeau shook his head, pupils widening as he steadily calmed down in your presence. The very tip of his long, winding tail flicked to and fro.

You frowned, setting the loofah upon the nearby sink just out of his reach. Corbeau gave an instinctive hiss of frustration, the hood upon his neck fanning out. Of course, his ire was never directed towards you. “Absolutely not. It’s either I throw you back in that tub to soak for a while, or the next shed is even worse.”

Corbeau opened his mouth to protest, only to shut it just as quickly. His forked tongue flicked in resignation, the big bad boss of the Rust Syndicate obediently acknowledging his lover’s words. He shuffled off his usual dress-shirt, letting you marvel at the colourful swatches of scales upon his chest as he heaved his coils back into the warmth of the tub, eyeing you expectantly.

“Good boy. You better let me keep that shed when it comes off.”

Ivor

The clock struck midnight, and you were still wide awake. The silky warmth of your boyfriend’s fur often did the trick in sending you to sleep, but apparently not this time. You yawned, reaching out for the mountain of a man you called your lover… only to find the space beside you empty. Oh no. Ivor on the loose was never a good thing.

A blood-curdling howl echoed through the apartment, the sound of scratching at the bedroom door causing your heartrate to spike. This was it. There was a Houndoom at your door, and the Grim Reaper was on his way. Instinctively, you bunched the sheets of the bed up over your chest.

“…Ivor?”

Your whisper was met with a pitiful whine, the scratches pausing for a moment before resuming with newfound vigour. At this rate, whatever was on the other side would dig through the wood soon enough.

“Ivor, is that you?” Letting the sheets fall, you stepped over to the door of the bedroom, twisting the knob to open it. Your eyes softened at the sight of a particularly mucky, soggy ball of blond fluff. “Oh, Ivor…”

Gazing up at you with the wettest puppy-dog eyes, Ivor’s tail drooped sadly behind him as he sat upon the floor. Even his ears were pinned back… “I saw a Bunnelby… I wanted to catch it for you. I thought you were hungry.”

Hands bracing against his toned biceps, you helped him up onto his paws with a frown of sympathy. “It got away, huh?” You plucked a few burrs from his fur as you spoke.

Ivor simply nodded.

“We’ve already got food in, sweetie. You don’t have to rush out at midnight to catch stuff for me,” you hummed, brushing the hair away from his eyes before cupping his cheeks. “Lie down, hun. Let me clean you up. Where’s your brush?”

“Brush!” He perked at the mention of that magic word, and in an instant he was rummaging through a nearby drawer. Your lumbering beast of a lover returned to your side, tail wagging with a full coverage hand-brush in his maw. Taking it from between his sharp canines, you booped his nose before gesturing towards the bed — warm and inviting. In the very next heartbeat he was laying upon it, fluffy belly exposed to you with a tail wagging at one-hundred miles per hour.

“Good boy, Ivor. Silly pup, sneaking outside after a rainstorm,” you cooed to him, slipping the brush onto your hand to ease the bristles through his fur. Burrs, twigs, and seeds were teased out of his pelt, Ivor lying ever so contentedly beneath you. With your current hand busy, your other one came to rub and scritch at the softness of his tummy, just where you knew he liked.

“Nooo…” His reaction was instant as he bared himself to you more, leg kicking. Maybe you’d need to invest in a tracking collar of some kind. If only for moments like this. You moved the brush to tease the bristles through his chest fur, soon raking it over his tummy. His leg kicked even more and you chuckled.

“Does that feel good, sweetie?”

Ivor responded with a whine, reaching his paws out to pull you flush against his toned chest. If his tail wagged any faster, he would take off. And you certainly weren’t about to leave his embrace anytime soon. He rolled over, smothering you beneath him as he rubbed his cheek against yours. “Mm… my darling…”

Mable

Arceus knows when the plan had been approved, or why Professor Sycamore was more than happy to have a makeshift aquarium pool fitted into his laboratory, but hey, there it was. They had to contain the newly appointed researcher somehow. And Arceus almighty, was it difficult to house something aquatic. Everything electronic in the lab had been subsequently water-proofed, and then water-proofed several times more.

Seeing as though you were the one she had taken quite a fond liking to — and vice versa, of course — you were routinely sent up towards Mable’s lab wielding little more than a soft brush and a bucket of water infused with anti-fungal solution. Scale-rot was a big risk, especially for a woman so… poisonous. The elevator dinged, and you stepped out with a pep in your step.

“Mabes? It’s just me. I’m sorry, but I’ve got the brush again,” you called out, setting the bucket down as you gazed into the deep, murky waters of the pool. You could feel a gaze piercing through you, almost predatory. It gave you a thrill. Bubbles rose from somewhere deep within the waters; a dim, blue glow only just barely punctured the darkness — there she was.

“You want some Magikarp, too?” You jested, crouching down beside the lipped edge of the aquarium. “If you jump through a hoop, I’ll give you one.”

Two dorsal fins soon speared through the water’s surface, blue with black streaks and pointed in five tips like an abyssal star. The water was still for a heartbeat, her fins disappearing as soon as they had emerged. Mable lunged for you, splashing you with a fair amount of water as she stopped just short of your face. “Who says it’s Magikarp I’m craving?”

You shrieked as you fell back, slipping on the floor and almost knocking over the bucket of treatment. “M-Mable!”

“I was wondering when my star researcher would show up,” she grinned, sliding forward to cross her large, fin-like arms beneath her, resting upon them. They were the same colour and barbarous star shape as her dorsal fins, ending in poisonous prongs. You swear you had seen a creature that looked similar to her in a marine biology book. “Look at that. You’re already wet. Might as well come in.”

You shook your head, pouting as you squeezed the water from your hair as best you could with a blush dusting your cheeks. “Nope. No. Not just yet. You know what I’m here for, Mabes.”

Mable eyed the bucket. Then her gaze flicked back towards you. “This is because I gnawed off the last tracker they gave me, isn’t it?”

“I’m guessing so. Now c’mon honey, I’ll make it quick,” you brandished the soft-bristled brush, dipping it into the anti-fungal treatment. Mable rolled her eyes.

Her claws dug into the ‘shore’ of her pool as she hoisted the rest of her body out of the water, splashing you some more. You couldn’t help but let your gaze rake over her torso and tail, over the wealth of skin beneath patterned, shining scales… she was gorgeous from head to — well, fins. Another pair of large, star-shaped arms protruded from just above her hips, her tail ending in a fan of ovals resembling her hairstyle. She smiled, narrowing her eyes. “See something you like?”

You blinked, turning your attention back to the brush in hand. “…Yeah.”

The bristles ran over her softened scales, coating them in the treatment. You occasionally splashed water over her fins and gills, keeping her body sufficiently moist as you moved down to her tail. Mable watched your every move intently.

Reaching for the bucket, you had managed to dunk the first few bristles as you soon felt… something tap at your ankles. In the very same heartbeat, you were sent plummeting onto your hind as her tail swiped forward. “H-hey! Mable, the bucket!”

Making a Combee-line for that ever so familiar shade of orange, the smell of slow roasting beans guided your every step. Your partner Pokémon — a tiny baby Tyrunt — waddled close behind, finding everything it saw so interesting that it just had to stop and stare.

Once in eyeshot of the Flare Nouveau food truck, you greeted Grisham with a polite wave and a grin that stretched from ear-to-ear.

“Grish! Sorry I couldn’t come visit earlier, I’ve just been swamped with stuff to do.”

“No need to apologise. We’re always pleased to see you no matter the time,” he reciprocated your smile with his own, eyes squinting. Griselle was elsewhere, diligently spritzing and wiping down the tables whilst grumbling to herself. A rough day of hospitality, evidently. “What can I get you started with?”

“Ah, just my us—”

“You want your usual, babe?” Griselle was by your side in a heartbeat at the sound of your voice, powder-blue eyes sparkling as she cut in front of her brother. The latter sighed quietly. The Tyrunt at your heels looked up at Griselle, tilting its head to the side with a curious bark. “Panchamomile tea with an almond croissant?”

You jolted in surprise, eyes widening before you relaxed. It was always sweet that Griselle remembered your order, down to the sugar you took in your tea and temperature of the croissant itself. It was especially sweet that she always demanded that she take your order rather than Grisham. “Yeah, please!”

“Heard that, Grisham?”

“I am standing right here.”

“Great,” Griselle turned back to you, beaming at you with that precious smile of hers. Stepping closer, she pressed her lips to your cheek in a swift peck, gesturing to the vacant seat nearby. “Go sit down, pretty girl. I’ll bring it out to you.”

Drinking your tea was easy enough, but keeping your pastry to yourself was another beast entirely. Every item of food you bought yourself, your Tyrunt automatically claimed as its own. This, unfortunately, included your almond croissant. The little baby was keen on sharing your food, clearly viewing you as its parent. It was sweet, in a way…

Like clockwork, you had stayed at the Flare Nouveau food truck well after your order had been cleared away. Customers came and went, food and drinks were served, and rowdy individuals were pacified with a thinly-veiled shroud of politeness. You could’ve sworn your girlfriend was seconds away from mauling someone at one point. Eventually, the day was soon winding down, and you had plans to take Griselle somewhere with you after this. Somewhere special. Somewhere you had wanted to take her for a while.

Having cleared away after the last customer for the day, Griselle slumped by your side with an exasperated groan. She remained like that for a moment, hoping to sap some of your energy. “Ugh. I could’ve killed that guy. Did you hear him?”

You giggled, bonking your head against hers with a smile of sympathy. “Yeah, I did. Don’t know how you cope with it all, Elle.”

“I mean, how the fuck are you meant to make an iced latte without ice? Tell an Avalugg to sit on it?!”

“Or a mocha and complain it tastes like chocolate.”

“Oh my Arceus, don’t get me started on that,” You laughed at her words — heartfelt and sweet — and Griselle felt her spirits soar. She yawned, reluctantly peeling herself off of you before sneaking another kiss to your cheek. “Better help Grisham pack away before he gets on my ass about it. He’s just jealous I get to love on you.”

“That’s not the case and you know it,” a voice sounded from within the truck. He was met with a middle finger, albeit one he couldn’t see.

“Oh, before you go and help, I wanna ask you something, Elle…” you began, cradling the tiny tyrannosaur upon your lap. Its eyes were lidded, growing sleepy in your arms after successfully stealing a rogue sandwich crust that had been dropped on the floor. “If you’re, uhh, not too busy… wanna come with me to the museum after your shift? I’ve got an annual pass, heh.”

Griselle paused, blinking. Her cheeks reddened somewhat, matching the tips of her ombré hair. “…You wanna take me on a date?”

You nodded. How could she say no to those sweet little Deerling-eyes of yours?

“Y’know what? Sure. I’d love that, cutie,” she smiled, her expression softening, and now it was your turn to flush a deep scarlet. “Let me finish up first, yeah? Maybe I can convince Grisham to let me go earlier.”

The barista quirked a brow as he exited the truck, beginning to pack away the decorations dotted about the seating area. “For?”

“None of your damn business.”

“Mm. Now help me already, Griselle.”

———————

The avenue was spotless, Griselle having disappeared into the back of the truck to change out of her uniform. Grisham stood by, regarding you with a warm expression. “Thank you again… we truly appreciate your company.”

“Oh, it’s no problem! It’s a nice break from being jumped by alphas in those hyperspace portal thingys. The drinks make the concussions all worth it,” you jested, only to be met with a rather concerned frown from the barista. He shook his head.

“And… thank you. For taking care of my sister, I mean,” Grisham spoke, voice taking on a rather different tone than usual. “I can tell Griselle cares for you a lot. She’s prickly, yes, but she has a heart of gold. And I’m glad she trusts you enough to show that.”

You shone him a smile, the little Tyrunt now wrapped up across your chest in a makeshift sling as it napped. “Of course, Grisham. I love her. We won’t be gone too long, ‘kay?”

“Not to worry at all. By all means, enjoy your time together,” his eyes — usually squinted — opened slightly. It was Grisham’s equivalent of a broad, sincere smile. Maybe you’d snag something at the gift shop for him, too.

The latch of the food truck boot soon clicked, the rear doors opening as Griselle stepped out. Having shed her café uniform, she was dressed for comfort, wearing ruby-red leggings paired with a light-grey hoodie, her hair loosened from its usual curly twintails; upon her hoodie was a Talonflame decal, wings tucked in a divebomb as a shower of embers trailed behind it. Griselle was drop-dead gorgeous in anything she wore. Especially with her hair down. “You’re staring.”

“Uh! Um..!” Oh, curse your love-stricken heart. You were easy when it came to your girlfriend, and she knew it.

“You ready, pretty girl?” She cooed in a hushed voice, standing by your side as she slipped a hand into her hoodie pocket, the other reaching to tangle her fingers with yours.

You nodded, returning the baby dinosaur to its ball for a well-deserved nap. The museum was just up ahead down the avenue, turning on your heel to wave goodbye to Grisham before clinging to Griselle’s arm.

“So what’s going on in there, huh? A new gift shop or something?” Griselle turned to look at you, her gorgeous blue eyes causing your heart to stutter.

“Kinda! A new exhibition just opened, I’ve been looking forward to it all month!” You grinned, footsteps practically bouncing in zero-gravity.

“Must be pretty exciting if it’s got you this antsy. I, uhh… don’t know much about historic stuff. Sorry.”

Your hand tightened around hers in response, cuddling up to her shoulder. “It’s fine, honey! I’ll tell you all you need to know, don’t worry.”

———————

Upon entering through the grand doors of Lumiose’s museum, the air of the building itself already seemed… larger. Roomier. Something about a joint research programme with Galar… fossils had been unearthed in deserted badlands and had been donated to Kalosian researchers, and were on display. Now that was an opportunity you couldn’t miss.

Reaching the second floor, the expansions were evident. A joint doorway now connected the exhibition of ancient Hisui, faux ferns drooping and coiling around the pillars of the archway; a gateway to an even more prehistoric land. Instinctively, you squeezed Griselle’s hand at the sight, eyes sparkling as you grinned at her from ear to ear.

She quirked a brow, amused, and gestured through the archway. “Go on, cutie. Knock yourself out,” she felt her heart swell at the fact that only she would ever see you this giddy, even if it wasn’t something she was necessarily familiar with.

The exhibition was huge. All the advertisements you had seen didn’t do it justice. In the corner of your eye, your attention was caught by the nearest display; a sample of a large, ancient rock bed formation expertly preserved behind a sheet of thick glass. Embedded within the rock were dozens of tiny little Dome Fossils, all watched over by the parental gaze of a Kabutops skeleton.

Griselle stood beside you, bumping her shoulder against yours. Reading the information plaque, she blinked in surprise. “…Fucking hell. That’s morbid.”

You leant closer against Griselle as you pointed from the plaque to the display behind, reading aloud what was inscribed upon it. “Preserved Dome Fossils with a father Kabutops. Originally found in Kanto. These specimens were discovered next to each other in the same rock formation.”

“Huh. Never heard of them before,” she spoke simply, glancing at the fossils one last time before gesturing somewhere else in the exhibition. “Hey, what’s that one? Looks cool.”

Following where she had pointed, your eyes sparkled in recognition. “…Oh my Arceus! Velozolt! Griselle, that’s a Galarian one!” You had cleared a metre or so in record time to stand before the next display.

Another sample of inches thick rock. This one, however, held the half-excavated remains of some kind of small dromeosaur; its spine was reared back in an elaborate death pose, curled in a permanent stargaze. Beside the fossil stood a diorama of what a true Velozolt was believed to have looked like through the eyes of Kalosian palaeontologists, nothing like the mismatch of the Galarian reconstructions. The sight of it in its full glory made your heart skip a beat…

All of the displays were far from disappointing; a moderate aquarium of Lileep had been erected in the second exhibition room over, the Pokémon evidently well-cared for as they swayed in the gentle currents; Aurorus tracks forever cemented in permafrost from the Crown Tundra; a looming Aerodactyl fossil soaring above the room (one that Griselle had proudly pointed out that she actually knew the name of); a Tyrantrum fossil embroiled in battle with a Bastiodon. It left you wide-eyed and vibrating with glee. You turned to look at your girlfriend, reaching to intertwine your fingers in hers.

But her eyes weren’t upon the displays. They were fixed upon you. They always had been. “…Look at you. You’re so damn cute, babe.”

———————

Griselle had been right in assuming another gift shop had opened up. To absolutely no-one’s surprise, it contained a multitude of fossil themed items and clothing. Whilst your girlfriend perused the more practical gifts, particularly interested in the pencils and pins, you had your sights set on something else. Holding it in your arms, you returned to her side, grinning like a Persian that had gotten the Fletchling.

“Holy shit. The hell is that?” She blinked with a frown, more out of confusion than anything else.

“It’s a Dracozolt! In Galar they, uhh… kinda smooshed the fossils together and called it a day,” you spoke, cradling the large plushie in both of your arms.

“You got the poké for that? That thing’s massive.”

“Yup! I saved up!” You grinned. She simply shrugged. If you were happy, she was too.

———————

Come lunchtime the very next day, you had stopped by once more for your usual Panchamomile tea and a croissant sandwich, your little baby Tyrunt waddling after you with eager barks. Griselle, without fail, had been the one to take your order, expression as sweet as ever when she had seen you approach. It didn’t go unnoticed she had a few new accessories upon her apron.