#imagine them at parties they would be so good

[emptymanuscript]

I think I definitely have these two. For myself I think would also need to give myself an addition of:

Seethe in (at least relative) silence and then spend the rest of your life imagining what you WISH you had said or done.

Launch into Lecture (or essay) of entirely inappropriate length, considering the shortness of the prompt.

Secret option like bite but so full of uncontrolled rage that party members must lead this character to a new location for them to return to their senses.

Smile and nod because my brain has utterly failed to get whatever you just said and I’m not comfortable asking “What?” right now. Ignorance of prompt may or may not be solved by patience or a quieter environment. Your guess is as good as ours. Try looking more sympathetic and making a little humming noise, maybe they’ll elaborate and give you clues to what they just said. Can’t hurt at this point. I think. Wait, what ARE we talking about? Do you remember their name? Are you sure? Ok, don’t panic, just keep them talking so they don’t realize you’re lost. It’ll be ok if you’re just a really active listener. Nod more. What did I just agree with? Can I take that back. Nope, too late, just say we said yes MEANING no. Smile more, we’re all friends here. Right? Wait… what…? Who am I again. Oh!!! This is just ridiculous. Try laughing because that’s just the way the world is. Why did I do this? What even am I doing? Tell a joke. Run! Don’t panic. Charm. Cast magic missile at the darkness. Why aren’t we running? Make very earnest promises to dark powers if they’ll just get you out of this discomfort. Try an inane statement that could mean anything. “Ain’t THAT the truth.” Swear to yourself on all that’s holy you will NEVER hit this button again. Just smile and nod. Commit. It’s too late to take it back. Smile and nod while you scream internally at yourself for pushing this thrice damned button. Abort! Abort! Abort! Mayday! Mayday! Eject!!! Just keep smiling. Show more teeth. AAAAAAaaaaaahhhhh!!!!

these are my dialogue options when you talk to me btw

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Grim - Blazing Jewel Vignette

"We'll cheer the loudest"

[Sewing Room]

Grim: This is where they're making the outfits for that Blazing Jewel music performance thing, right?

Grim: Crowley said the staff had to go to a meeting, so he's asked us to get everyone's measurements…

Grim: But no one's here, even though it's time for them to show up. They're all late!

???: Urgh… Nnnn…

Grim: Hm? Did you just say something?

1. Nope, nothing. 2. Wasn't that you?

???: Hhhhhhnnnng…!

[Lilia drags Idia in]

Idia: I don't wanna! There's too many people! I wanna go back to my room!

Lilia: You've already come all the way here, steel yourself, already. C'mon everyone, into the room, let's go.

Rook: Why, hello there, Trickster. And you as well, Monsieur Furball. Did we keep you waiting?

Cater: I know they said for all the juniors to come at this time to get measured for the upcoming performance…

Trey: But no matter how long we waited, we couldn't get the full party together. We had to go out searching for the guys who didn't show up.

Malleus: I received no notification of any measurements that were to take place.

Vil: That's just because you didn't see the message sent to your phone.

Leona: Ugh, this is more than a pain… We're here already, so let's get it over with.

Lilia: No need to rush! I know I can't wait to see all our matching outfits. I've been excited ever since I saw the designs drawn out.

Cater: Riiiight～? I bet we'd be a huge hit just standing around ♪ I bet we'd even hit the trending posts on Magicam!

Rook: Aaah, yes… To see every one shine brightly like a jewel under the bright lights… Just imagining it is beauté!

[chatter, chatter]

Grim: Hrrnn…

Grim: Hrrnnnngggh…!

1. What's wrong? 2. Oh, that look means…

Leona: Hey, now. Don't tell me this furball's jealous of us now, right?

Grim: I'M SO JEALOUS, YEAH!!!

Trey: That was surprisingly honest of you. …But actually, we thought you'd say that.

Grim: Huh?

Malleus: Here is a gift from us to both Grim and [Yuu].

Grim: Eh? Huh…Huh!?

Grim: MY OUTFIT'S SO COOL!!

1. Awesome! 2. We're matching!

Grim: HEY, YOU GOT CHANGED TOO!! You're second coolest-looking, next to me.

Grim: Hm? Hey, this outfit looks exactly like what they're wearing during the Blazing Jewel thing.

Idia: Wh-When we heard about the performance, it came up… That Grim-shi'd probably be jealous… Heh.

Lilia: So, we ended up deciding to give you two the Blazing Jewel outfits as a gift.

Trey: Crewel-sensei had a hand in making these, so it's not like they're magic that'll fade after a while. Don't worry.

Vil: I'll tell you this; a performance isn't just wearing fancy outfits and standing on a stage. A costume does not make or break anything.

Vil: …Having said that, we did think you deserved an appropriate reward for everything. Plus, it would be troublesome if Grim were to throw a tantrum.

Cater: Both of you look way better than I imagined! So cute～!

Leona: Hah, let's see if their insides match the outsides. You better be just as bright and energetic as the clothes you're wearing.

Grim: Myahaha! I'm so happy to get these cool clothes!

Grim: Isn't this great?

1. Thank you so much! 2. I can't wait for the performance!

Malleus: Yes, of course. I am elated you are pleased with this, more than anything. It means it was worth our preparation.

Grim: …Now that I think of it, how'd you get the right sizes for us? I don't remember getting measured, but it fits perfectly.

Rook: Oh, yes! I provided them both of your measurements down to the first decimal. No need to fret.

Grim: H-How'd you know that!? That's creepy…!

Everyone: Hahahah.

Idia: …Eh? If that's all that was needed to be done, I didn't need to come here, right!?

[Sewing Room]

Grim: La-dee-dum～

1. You're in a good mood.

Grim: Myahaha! It's awesome that we get to wear these awesome clothes.

2. La-la-dee～

Grim: Myaha! Looks like you're just as happy to be wearing these awesome clothes.

Grim: I wanna show these off to everyone! I hope someone shows up soon.

Floyd: 'Scuuuuse me.

Riddle: Why are you kicking open a door that is not even unlocked!? You lack even the most common sensibilities!

Grim: Th-The sudden noises scared the stuffing outta me… Hey, you should just come in like a normal person!

Jade: It seems Floyd is causing trou… Oh? Why, the two of you look absolutely dazzling.

1. Thank you. 2. Don't be silly…

Ruggie: Are all those shining things real gemstones? What are they? From where? How many carats? Wait, do I get some too!?

Kalim: That's the Blazing Jewel outfit, right? It's pretty… But don't you think it'd be even flashier if we deck it out with even more gems!?

Silver: Kalim, we cannot do that.

Silver: If the clothes are weighed down, it would affect our dancing.

Jamil: That's not the main issue here… And now Kalim's looking like that was the perfect explanation…

Azul: These outfits are property of our esteemed academy. I would recommend returning it in the same condition you received it, without adding nor removing any decorations.

Floyd: Ahahah, both Shrimpy-chan and Seal-chan look like penguins in that getup. It's a nice change from usual.

Grim: Myaha, right? The juniors made 'em for us!

Kalim: We're gonna get our measurements now, and get to wear those same outfits during the performance, right? I'm super excited to be matching with everyone!

Ruggie: But, y'know… Grim-kun, can ya even take our measurements?

Jamil: Haha, true! Will you be able to measure our shoulder width with those little paws of yours?

Grim: Don't make fun with me! It'll be easy for me to do.

Grim: I just gotta made this measuring tape float with magic, just like Hornton and the others did earlier…

Grim: Myah!? I-It's not moving… Why's it not moving!?

Grim: But they were able to keep it moving so easily before!

Jade: Perhaps it has to do with a difference in ability. What a shame, Grim-kun. Oh, you poor thing.

Grim: Eeeeehhhh!

Riddle: Goodness… There's no need to tease him so. Grim, calm down and imagine the clothes you want to make.

Jamil: That's right. As long as you can picture what outfit you need to make, the measuring tape should move to where it needs to to get the measurements.

Azul: You have [Yuu]-san right in front of you to provide you with an example of the outfit, as well. Look at them, and try again.

Grim: Hrrrgh… That's still hard!

Ruggie: It's lookin' like it'll be quicker if [Yuu]-kun'd measure us by hand. Here, take the tape. Let's get this done with already.

Grim: What!? Then let's have a race to see who's faster, me with my magic, or my lil' hench-human with their hands!

Floyd: Mmkay, then I guess I'll play the guy who gets in both of your ways～ It ain't exciting otherwise, right?

1. This'll be rough… 2. Can I even win…?

Silver: I'll help you, [Yuu]. You've always helped me when I've needed it.

Riddle: Then, I shall help Grim with his magic. Now then, everyone line up!

Kalim: 'Kaaay. Come on, Azul, line up with us!

Azul: No, thank you, I will measure myself, so… Wah, don't push me!

[Jade pushes Azul]

Jade: Come now! We have no time to dally. Kalim-san, I hope you don't mind us squeezing in next to you.

Grim: Picture the outfit, picture the outfit… Okay, let's go! Myaaaah!

[Sewing Room]

Ace: Hey, hey, the measuring tape is a little too slack. There's nooo way you're getting the right measurements, are you?

Grim: Stop whining! If you got a problem with it, do it yourself!

Deuce: Ouch, who just threw that measuring tape!? Oh, no… Now I've forgotten the numbers I was going to write down…!

Ortho: What an unproductive fight. How do they not tire of it when they get nothing out of something so useless?

1. I'm already used to it. 2. It's definitely something to wonder about.

Jack: Well, anyway, I know I was surprised when we walked into the sewing room and saw [Yuu] and Grim in that sharp outfit.

Grim: Yeah! Doesn't this awesome get-up totally stun ya?

Epel: Yep. The design's pretty cool, and the jewels on it are so sparkly. You guys look rad!

Sebek: Could you have possibly expressed your thoughts any less elegantly? It is a dignified attire. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that it will suit my liege well!

Ace: There goes the Draconian again… Anyway, even if we get these outfits done, that's not all there is, right? How's everyone's performance practice going?

Epel: Hehe… I'm glad you asked. Obviously, Pomefiore is absolutely ready to go.

Deuce: Pomefiore might be a tough opponent, but we're no slackers ourselves. Our song's real awesome, especially with all our voices combined!

Sebek: Hah, I doubt it is anything worthwhile. You shall all kneel before our singing, led by Malleus-sama himself!

Ortho: Haha, you're so funny. I don't think you'll be able to keep saying that once you see me and my brother's full combo.

Jack: If we're talking teamwork, then we'd be the number one contender. We'll show you all with our perfectly in-sync dancing.

Grim: Everyone's all confident in themselves, but I really don't know if they're really ready…

Grim: We gotta supervise them good, [Yuu]!

1. We got this! 2. Let's do our best!

Ace: Ey, you guys look raring to go. Just try and keep that up for the actual Blazing Jewel performance, 'kay?

Epel: You'll be cheering on Pomefiore, right? I'm counting on you!

Sebek: Absolutely not. You should give your loudest cheers for Diasomnia. You understand, right, human!?

1. Which to pick…? 2. Hard to choose…

Grim: Yeah, you're right.

Grim: I can't figure out who to pick, so we'll cheer the loudest for whoever gives me the most tuna cans. Myaha!

Jack: Don't be trying to make a deal out of this. Be fair about it.

Ortho: Heheh. I'm really excited for the performance, yeah… But I also like preparing for it with everyone like this.

Deuce: Yeah. After working so hard and so long to get ready for the performance with everyone in the dorms, it feels like the big show'll be here any day now.

Grim: Whew, it's finally done. They were all sooo noisy.

1. That was fun.

Grim: You might've been havin' fun, but everyone kept buggin' me, so I'm pooped! Grim: If this ever happens again, I'm gonna use my magic even more to shut them all up.

2. I'm so tired…

Grim: I get it. It was all "measure this" and "measure that"… Grim: "This should be bigger", or "I want this smaller than everyone else." I'm so tired by all their little changes.

Grim: …Ah! We don't got time to hang around like this. We gotta go report to Crowley pronto.

Grim: We're so busy with all the stuff we gotta do before Blazing Jewel begins…

Grim: And even after the performance ends, there's still gonna be so much for us to do!

Grim: Let's keep doing our best, hench-human!   

Requested by @farfalla049.

[calebrity]

panty-thieving caleb

do we need to discuss this? caleb truly does this. nobody’s undergarments safe from this man. does homeboy feel guilty? yes. will he do it again? u can bet ur ass on it

It’s… fine.

I mean, you’re gone for a few days, your little hunter’s gig requiring your presence elsewhere, and the apartment is quiet- almost uncomfortably quiet- for a short while; he has some room to wriggle. Be bad. He could throw a house party in your absence and you would never know. He’s good at keeping secrets, and he’s a masterclass in those pitiful puppy dog eyes that catch you for hook, line, and sinker. If he said he didn’t, then you’d believe him, ‘cause you’re a good girl.

(His good girl. Whether or not you’re aware of that has no effect on its truth.)

It’s not like the walls have eyes, that you’re watching, when he leans against the washing machine, his own dirty clothes swirling in a heap behind the clear window, and spots your hamper propped behind the door, a glint of interest in his eye- shameful as it may come.

You’re far from stupid. But you are naive, down to a fault- and Caleb thinks, flipping the lid of it and stooping over to rifle through your laundry, that it’s for the better.

It’s just marginally easier on his conscience if you’re unaware of what he’s about to do.

Look- to clear the air, he isn’t proud of it, alright? But fuck if he doesn’t need it. You’ve left him high and dry one too many times to count, and he doesn’t blame you for that, pipsqueak, he gets that your relationship had established boundaries from early on- too early to really even remember- and that you couldn’t begin to understand the depths of what he feels for you. He gets that. It’s only festering in the forefront of his brain on most days, squeezing in his chest in a way that reads longing just as much as it does guilt.

The knowing doesn’t stop him though, or the disgrace.

Might even drive him a little bit further, if he’s being honest.

He digs out a frilly pink article, pointedly ignoring all other clothes save for the few oversized shirts of his you must’ve snagged earlier this week- regarding them with a passive but somewhat smug smile- and pulls it taut between his fingers, marvelling a little at the intricate gusset.

Fuck.

And you know, the remnant of his guilt fades the longer he stares. Perverted or not, his imagination runs at a mile a minute and there’s a certain thrill he obtains in envisaging you wearing it. So, so beautiful, he’s sure, and how could you not be? A pretty nymphet strewn in blushing pink. He barely has the self restraint to pass up on finding the matching bra, but it’s a near thing.

He doesn’t think he really cares about how horrified you’d be, how much faith you’d lose in him- your precious Caleb- not as his cock stirs in his briefs and he pictures you wearing the underwear, sticking your ass out for him on full display. He’d touch it and grope it and guide you down onto his aching length- but not before getting your pretty pussy (well, he’s never seen it before, no, but he’s willing to bet his whole piggy bank that it’s as gorgeous as the rest of you) all primed and ready for him.

He’d worship you. Really, he’s just waiting on your green light.

In his dreams he kneels on the ground before you and laps at your folds ‘til you’re screaming and pulling his hair- but he doesn’t let up until he knows for sure you’ve nothing left to give him. When you’re wholly satisfied, then, and only then, does he hike his pants down his thighs and sink into your sopping heat.

The smell of you— “mmnh.”

Oh pretty girl, nothin’ compares.

Caleb lets out a little groan as he fists your dirty panties tight and thrusts it in his face, inhaling your scent- faded detergent mixed with an undeniably feminine musk- in lungfuls. He thumbs over the fabric with appreciation and gives it an oddly chaste kiss before getting to swift work on his growing problem.

This won’t happen again. He promises. If you were around for it, you’d hear him spew out his apologies and proffer out his little finger for a pinky swear. He never breaks a pinky swear, too. It’s sacrilegious in your household.

He’s half tempted to wrap your pretty panties around his cock and rub it that way, but he quickly thinks better of it, surprisingly clear-headed in his conviction to keep it untainted. Your underwear having been thrown in your dirty hamper or not- Caleb doesn’t want to mar them with his own release if he comes hard into the lacy folds of it- and no doubt he would. He respects you a little too much to tarnish your precious belonging, and while he knows his actions are disparaging in and of themselves, this is a front he’ll remain staunch on: your undies are valuable, not some material to use for jerking off before curtly disposing of.

He’ll be careful, he’ll be good to them. Okay?

Evidently, that respect he has for you isn’t quite enough to stop him from nabbing your dirty laundry and huffing it in like paint— but it’s the little things that count, right? The thought.

A rasping whine punches out from his chest, his eyes clamped shut as he strokes himself with long, slim fingers, desperately wishing them to be yours instead. Yours would be softer, more uncertain and unexperienced as they trail over his dick but fuck they’d feel so good, he knows this like he’s never known anything before. Just pines for it to become reality.

Of course, he’d start with something smaller to ease you in; he wants it to be romantic, your first time, full of sloppy, but meaningful kisses as confession and hands cupping your face as he vows to keep you happy forever.

But what he gets up to- you’d be so mad if you knew— He wants to save himself from the mortifying prospect of you ever unearthing his sordid inner world, but it’s a little too late to backtrack. He can’t reverse what he feels for you, in any case.

Shit. It sounds so bad- the dregs of his rationale rebuking him somewhere in the back of his head- but thinking about you frustrated just gets him riled up even more. ‘Cause you’re so cute like that... Furrowed brow and flushed cheeks, lips that pout and arms that cross over your breast and unwittingly press them up and present them to him before you either frown or inevitably turn your back on him.

He could die in peace to your catty moans and whines. And then he’d revive himself just to pull a few more out of you.

Hey, look, pipsqueak, he knows he’s a big meaniehead sometimes, but—

Pre dribbles from the tip and he smears it down the long column of his cock, sucking in a shaky breath as the washing machine drums out a steady tune. He could fuck you on it. It’d probably feel so good that way. Or he could drag you to the couch and eat you out for hours on end until his knees bruise on the carpet and you constrict your thighs around his head. Sounds like a dream. Like his dreams.

—but he just loves you so damn much.

And can you really fault him if he gets a little worked up over how you behave? I mean, yeah, he’s supposed to be your ‘gege’ and all, but c’mon... He’s still a man at the end of the day. You’re kind of setting a high bar for him, don’t you think? He’s only human. He’s fallen victim to love, and if you were experiencing even half of what he’s been for seeming eons now, then you’d understand it too.

It flourishes in his belly fast- the want to taste and take and consummate with you- pleasure reaching its peak as he keenly pumps his fist. He knows this is screwed up, he knows, but it feels so good and he just—

“Oh, ungh- pipsqueak-!” with a few sputtering gasps, he ruts his hips into his hand one more time before everything existing inside him erupts. He hurtles himself at the washing machine as it thumps, hugging your panties to his nose like it’s the one thing keeping him rooted in place right now and from buckling to the floor, dousing himself in the scent of you as his eyes flutter back. When he comes, he wants it to be to the essence of you and nothing else.

White gushes over the backs of his fingers; he rides himself through it, broad chest heaving as he talks himself down from his own high.

His inner dialogue is starker now as he settles and the desire searing his critical thinking abates. It’ll never happen again, he’s adamant on that. Because he’s more or less just betrayed your trust, to put it lightly, and it’s not right.

Guilt warms his heart to an unpleasant degree.

I-It’s fine.

When he’s done, he’s not quite comfortable with himself and the knowledge of what he’s just done- see? he’s not a completely depraved bastard, haha. He tucks himself in the waistband of his sweats with an almost rueful glance towards your hamper, grinding his jaw as post-nut clarity sinks its teeth into him— and pockets your panties.

It’ll make a nice triad to the other two he’s got stowed in his dresser.

You don’t need to know about any of this, though- you shouldn’t. Caleb’s the one who’ll shoulder this for the both of you. And if you come asking, he’ll just tell you the washer’s been eating up his laundry, too. No biggie.

It’s fine. What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

[nebulosecloud]

Whenever I see stuff where S2 Jayce is intimate with S1 Viktor I just imagine Viktor not saying anything about it to his Jayce and them eventually having a conversation like this while floating in the Arcane:

Jayce: Wait, so if you liked me back why did you never say anything to younger me about that night?

Viktor: I don't know I just figured you needed to have some monumental character arc to come to terms with the fact that you liked guys.

Jayce: Viktor I've known I was bisexual since I was fourteen.

Viktor: Oh well, you've never mentioned that before.

Jayce: You just stood by for what, six years, and said nothing?

Viktor: What was I supposed to say? Hey, by the way while you were at the party, an older version of you showed, up, gave me some of the best I've ever had, and disappeared back into the Arcane?

Jayce: That would have been a good start! Yes!

[mcyt-n-stuff]

in wilbur’s imagination…

wilbur stood stiffly, unkindly—across from dream, staring into his smile—the smile that was ever present when he hurt his tommy under that mask.

“hello, dream.” he said, smiling.

dream sat upright almost immediately and pulled himself up, “wilbur? how’d you get in here?” he asked, his voice faltering for a moment as he exclaimed wilbur’s name, but he quickly recovered.

wilbur could only imagine the utter shock etched on dreams face under that smile. that mask.

“oh-i- you know, i have my ways,” wilbur took a moment to chuckle, merely at the audacity of dream. his audacity to breathe—his audacity to talk—his audacity to live after hurting his tommy.

“i- i was just-…it’s so-so good to see you again, man. i- i- thank you, for everything you did. for reviving me, giving me this new lease on life…” wilbur said softly, idly twirling the redstone torch in his hand.

a bead of sweat ran down dreams face.

“a-and you’ve come to repay the favor.” right? dream said asked.

“yeah…,” wilbur took a step closer, “you could say that. i-i just- i actually just got away from talking with them,”

a cold shiver ran through dream.

as cold as the caldron that held the very water he drank.

as cold as the death glare wilbur started giving him at the very moment he walked in the room.

“with tommy.”

“I-i mean, you remember- you remember tommy. you haven’t been in here long enough to forget tommy,”

wilbur would have knocked dream out if he had forgotten tommy among the other things he did, but he held back, his grip tighting on the torch in his hand.

he held back only because he knew the next few minutes would be worth it.

so, so worth it.

“have you?” wilbur mused. “i mean-”

“oh, no. i remember tommy.” dream took a careful step back, making the mistake of daring to speak spitefully to wilbur.

“yeah? you remember everything?” wilbur stepped closer.

“oh yeah, I remember everything,” dream said, the smile on his mask seeming more and more sadistic and taunting to wilbur by the second.

“he told me about the exile.” wilbur said somberly.

wilbur said angrily.

wilbur said bitterly.

he paced around the small, desolate, tension-filled box that encaged dream.

it was pitiful.

but wilbur was not the kind who pitied.

he was not the kind to show mercy.

the kind who pitied was ghostbur.

but it would seem ghostbur wasn’t around anymore.

“he told me…about logstedshire. about- about the party…and, most importantly,”

wilbur stoped pacing, holding up the torch in his hands, staring at it fondly.

“about that tower, dream. and the pit-”

“fond memories.” dream muttered. dream interrupted.“fond memories.”

those words were one of dream’s worst that could ever possibly come out of his mouth- specifically the first,

wilbur’s head snapped up.

“what did you say?”

dream chuckled. “those were some fond memories, wilbur.”

and those words were dreams second worst.

wilbur merely laughed, taking a single tnt out of the many he had in his inventory, and placing the block onto the counter that separated this monster from wilbur.

“okay,”

“that’s what i thought you said.”

he paused savoring the scene of dream backing up fearfully, then placed his torch.

“DREAM.”

“wha-what are you doing-” dream exclaimed dreadfully.

“I only have a few moments-”

the tnt exploded with a hiss, blinding both of them for a moment, and leaving dream’s mask chipped, one frightful eye of dream’s now exposed- a green eye the color of acid that held fear instead of his usually malice.

for the first time in a long while, dream felt fear.

wilbur felt alive.

he pushed himself up from where he had been knocked back by the explosion, immediately connecting his fist, his calloused hard fist- into dreams face.

“SO PLEASE, GRANT ME THIS RESPITE-”

wilbur pushed and punched dream as hard as he could, knocking him into the water.

“STOP WILBUR-” dream pleaded, barely audible, desperately trying to push wilbur away and swim to the surface.

“DREAM. THIS IS THE END FOR YOU!” wilbur roared.

several minutes later, dream was dead, his body surrounded by his own blood.

wilbur hadn’t bothered to clear up the mess dream had made.

wilbur’s words that he had said as Dream clung onto him for dear life echoed just as he left the room, slathered in blood and water dripping down from his boots,

“YOU ARE SCUM,” wilbur kicked dream’s hand off of him, his eyes burning with resentment that he didn’t know he had until afterward.

“YOU ARE SCUM BENEATH MY FOOT!”

wilbur killed him again.

and again.

and again.

and the fire in his eyes dimmed.

the burning resentment left, the fire from it released from that tnt block, both physically and mentally.

he had killed dream, though not forever, he knew.

what wilbur didn’t know, though, was that he, too, had become scum.

when it dawned on you

[ofeliaxoxo]

A prompt for you: Charlos, jealousy

Yesss jealousy trope of all TIME unironically my favourite scenario

Hope you enjoy this! Wrote it a bit on the fly because I’m sick in bed ignoring responsibilities

He’s not even gracious in victory. The usual post-win glow is absent, no movie star smile pulled back to reveal his perfect teeth. The nice way his eyes crinkle up, so you can believe in it, the whole idea, how lovely he is.

Charles, Carlos could say, give me a smile. You’re so beautiful, you’re so talented. You beat us all today. Why do you look so angry?

“Congratulations,” he actually says, keeps the jealousy out of his voice although only the stupidest idiot could imagine it not to exist. “That was a great drive, mate.”

“Thank you. You too, you have done well.”

Oh?

“You were very happy, no? I saw you celebrate it with Alex.”

God. Like being told, no come on, you did a good job too, upset with himself as a child about second place. And he was, no, he is happy. They managed P4 and P5, a ridiculous result, practically a win, leagues ahead of where he thought he’d be this year. James nearly cried, hugged Carlos close and said I can’t believe it and then shook his head, taking it back, insisting that he knew they would succeed.

So he is happy, even though here Charles is, sodden with champagne, the actual winner of everything.

Maybe he’d seen when they’d gotten out of their cars and Carlos, without thinking about it, had pulled Alex in, squeezed him, thumping him on the back, trying to impart some of what he was feeling into his teammate. Alex swayed pleasingly when Carlos thwacked him, giggling, whole face scrunched up in delighted amusement the way it does.

Carlos likes him, the way he laughs so easily, gets stuck on his words and then enjoys it when Carlos leads them back into the path charted out for them by the cue cards.

And then a photo with the team, their names in big letters, Carlos and Alex, P4 and P5, all the mechanics with their fists raised in the air, cheering in victory although really there was no victory. But Carlos is happy, isn’t going to lose the feeling.

And now Charles, red and obvious against all the Williams blue.

Alex hasn’t left, has just stepped into his own garage instead of outside where everyone is milling around, where Carlos had been gathering himself.

“Yes, a good result for me and Alex, for the team. We are happy.”

Interview mode. Charles won’t notice, anyway.

“You and Alex work together well.”

“Do you want me to go and get him? I think he is not busy.”

Charles has got his podium cap in his hand. He always makes these things into a huge show, much bigger than anyone else, every time, curtsying and waving and simpering at the crowd like an actress being given a present.

“No, I - no. I am going. I wanted to invite you, to come tonight.”

Sitting at Charles’s table, partying for Charles’s win. He doesn’t have to, anymore, no one could ever expect him to. The galling thing, the disgusting little twist, is that he wants to. Would be happy there, in the circle. Carlos can see himself, sitting next to him, close close close, the nearness of Charles’s face, the thickness of his eyelashes, the smell of his cologne, how fun he is when he’s in a good mood. How Carlos could drape an arm across his shoulders, let it fall heavy on the hard muscle there.

“Sorry, we are flying this evening. And I think there will be dinner with the team, first.”

James’s obvious delight to look forward to. Carlos and Alex are turning the team around.

“You are flying together?”

He must’ve had too much champagne on the podium. Or the rocky battle with Max in lap fifty has scrambled his brain. He’s seriously not acting right for someone who should be floating, shouldn’t even be listening to what Carlos is saying.

“Yes. Are you ok, Charles?”

“Charlie! Come to show us what a real winner looks like, I assume,” Alex is here again, with a reassuringly cheerful grin. He comes up to stand by Carlos, unworrying in his personal space.

Finally, the pretty laugh, for Alex, the glance down and then back up. Does he know he does it?

“I will see you later, mate,” he announces, claps hands with Alex, turns to leave, makes sure to remind Charles he is the best, to see if that will lift his inexplicable mood, “enjoy your party, eh, Charles, don’t go too crazy!”

[chimckenns]

Headcanon for Angel and David's first birthday celebration together!

Thank you @brainrotcharacters for the help with brainstorming <3

Angel's first birthday would be something small and intimate, with just the both of them. It had only been a few months since they’d started dating, and David thought it would be better to keep the whole celebration private.

Angel had told him that they never really considered their birthdays as a big thing. They were always one to keep it on the down low, only telling their friends a few days later. They didn’t even tell David until he forced it out of them.

So a small birthday celebration it was.

Of course, David would never forget their birthday. It was a work day, so neither of them could meet until the evening. David took advantage of this and left work a little early to prepare for the small party. 

After Angel got off work, they went to David’s house as per his invitation. 

David took a deep breath and opened the door. He was met with a beaming Angel, jumping up and down a little in excitement to see him again. They launched at him in a hug, which he returned after a moment’s hesitation, before they made their way inside.

“Your gift is on the kitchen table. Go open it.”

Angel wasted no time and made their way to the neatly wrapped package. David, on the other hand, went back to the pot on the stove, finishing the last steps of the recipe. He had his back to Angel, silently anxious about their reaction to the gift he had prepared. He closed his eyes and felt his heart rate speeding up as he heard the wrapper being torn open. There was a moment of silence. But then…

“Davey!!! I- how did- this!! How did you know I wanted a matching hoodie?” Their laughter filled the room, and David swore he felt the room light up. His tense shoulders relaxed as a relieved smile crept onto his face. He finally turned towards them, watching them lift the hoodie out of the box and giggle. They immediately put it on. David had bought the hoodie in his size, knowing that they liked the oversized fit as it reminded them of him. The hoodie was basically a dress, and it was just as Angel loved it. 

“I’m glad you like it.” David chuckled. It was getting quite hard to maintain his stoic front around them, and he found that he didn’t mind it as much as he thought he would.

Angel ran to him in a hug, arms wrapping around his neck like they always did. David wrapped his arms around their waist, breathing in the scent of their hair.

“Thank you, Davey.

...Hm?”

He could hear Angel sniffing the air before they lightly pushed him away and looked behind him.

“That smells so good! What are you making for me?”

“It’s just another one of dad’s recipes. He taught me this a few days before he passed.” David had to stop Angel from looking by pulling them away by the waist. Angel still tried to peek over his arm out of curiosity. “Now go relax, it’ll be finished soon.”

Angel, pouting, gently nipped at his bicep before they made their way to the sofa, admiring the softness of their new present. 

After a few minutes, David called Angel over to the table, to which he got no reply. He walked over to the sofa to see them hiding from him, if you could even call it hiding. They had the strings of the hoodie pulled tight so that it covered most of their face, with only their nose poking out. He could hear them giggling as they felt him look at them. 

“I can see you even if you can’t see me, dumbass.”, he scoffed. “Come on, dinner’s ready.”

He ruffled their hair through the hoodie before making his way to the dinner table. Angel couldn’t see him, but he was grinning, completely smitten with Angel and their antics.

~~~

Angel doesn’t know how David did it, but his cooking tasted like home somehow.

That night ended with some fun in the bedroom. I’ll leave what happened to your imagination.

And although Angel loved the new hoodie, they still ended up stealing David’s as it smelled like him.

Angel woke up the next morning to David’s soft kisses. 

“Next year we can have the other’s over too”, he whispered.

Next year. There’ll be a next year. 

Angel hid under the covers to hide their blush at the thought.

[musette22]

God, Minnie, Sebastian's face when Chris said the thing about 'Once you get a good sweat going it loosens up a bit'. Penny for your thoughts my dude - well we can guess, can't we. This plus that time Seb said 'Well I gotta get in there' with Chris's reaction makes me wonder if it's like a game between them. Making little jokes like that to try and rile the other up, knowing they can't do anything because everyones watching. They get more frustrated and horny until they're finally alone and they can just pounce on each other. Do you think they'd get quite competitive doing this? I can picture poor Mackie finding out and doing his judgey face at them.

OH MAN, I love this wayyyy too much 😩 Right up my street, thank you for sending me this!! First of all yeah, I think it's pretty clear what's going through Seb's mind here 👀

He is not afraid of some heavy innuendo, as the moment with Kimmel you also mentioned demonstrated:

Gif credit @/weheartchrisevans from this post

Love your suggestion that this sort of thing is like a game between them. Both of them trying their to one up the other in the innuendo and "that's what she said" joke department, ostensibly just as a banter-y bros being bros kinda thing, but really, they're just trying to rile each other up to the point where one of them will snap and drag the other to the nearest empty room for a quickie 🔥👀

Oh my god, just imagine the possibilities (all of these are of course said in exaggeratedly dark and/or breathy voices):

Seb, eyeing his baguette sandwich: "Oh god it's huge, I don't know if I can fit it in my mouth..."

Chris, when Seb asks for some advice regarding a scene: "Hm, I've got just the tip for you..."

Seb, helping Chris get into his hotel room when his key card isn't working properly: "Put it in, then take it out slowly..."

Chris, when someone asks them if they'll be at a certain party: "I bet you're gonna come, aren't you, Sebastian..."

Seb, pretending he forgot his lines again: "Oh my god, it's so hard..."

Chris, when they're playing a board game on a night off that Seb hasn't played before: "I know this is your first time, but don't worry, I'll be gentle..."

Seb, when Chris is done signing autographs and Seb needs his pen, "Give it to me, Chris..."

Etc. etc. etc.

Yeah, they would TOTALLY do this, they love this sort of thing. And yes, Mackie would judge them SO HARD lmao, poor guy. Some more examples because why not:

Gif credit @/stevenrogered from this post

Uggghh now I really wanna write the fic....

[thevoidscreams]

Oh man, for the the Mating Press March I will take anything ft. Fulgrim but make it feral and rough. He always looks so pristine and perfect that I need to see a more unhinged side of him that doesn't have to do with Chaos Shenanigans <33

I usually think about Fulgrim as kinda subby but I will allow him to top for this.

Fulgrim gets some ideas from a social gathering and really wants to try them on his wife.

Day 19 Year 2:

Warnings: (Fulgrim), getting woken up with sex, use of pet names iguess

Word count:2271

He may have been one of the only true socialites out of his siblings, he just adored being lavished with attention. But he felt so not enthused at the moment. Bored he might even dare say. And boredom was not something that suited the primarch of the third. The auction was fine, you'd sat in his lap from a private viewing room, away from prying eyes where you could tell him the pieces that you liked and he would have them bid on. He'd had you dressed to the nines, looking every bit as elegant as the wife of a man like him ought to.

It was a struggle to keep his eyes up long enough to actually view the pieces you were talking about. His lips quested over warm skin, your perfume filled his senses and he'd practically torn the dress he'd had made custom for you. The auction after party had been the real draw for most of the attendees, people from all over the sector talked about the artists after parties. And really he could see why, they were something of beauty, but it wasn't what he wanted. The art had been acquired, and you, he groaned almost sub audibly. You had gone back to the ship after only an hour. You told him he was welcome to stay but you were tired and wanted to make sure the pieces for your private gallery got back safe. He understood, but his fingers itched to touch, and you were not there. His sons stayed close at hand, making small talk upon their father's insistence. "Go, my sons, it is a party, speak to the good people. I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk about at a gathering of artists."

Fulgrim took a fresh glass of sparkling wine and sipped it. The glass was comically small in his hands.

But he drank nonetheless. The vintage was quite fine, he should get a bottle to bring back to you.

As he looked for the host, a rather well to do and talented enough artist, he heard the giggle of two women gossiping. Normally Fulgrim paid little heed to the gossiping of strangers, unless it was about him or his family. But he stopped as if to enjoy a piece hanging over a fireplace. A scene of snow and trees splayed out over the canvas, it was nice enough. His attention was on the women and their giggles.

"You know I never thought I'd be into it. It's just so.. barbaric in nature but I'm glad I did because I haven't been this attracted to my husband in years."

"Oh, Marci, you mustn't say that." The other woman chided through laughter.

"Of but it's true, he was so.. mm how do I put this.. feral. The way he pounced on me and ravaged me. I felt like I was twenty again, and in college with all those men who would beg me back to their rooms only to do.. well, I shouldn't say. But when Arno came back it was so late I was asleep."

The other woman gasped. "He didn't!" "He DID!"

It was apparent to Fulgrim that this woman was inebriated, but his interest was piqued. "When I awoke I was so startled I nearly cried out until I realized it was him. Then he took me so ferociously, I was sure the neighbors could hear me screaming his name for a kilometer."

The two women hooted their snobbish sort of laugh again. "I'll tell you, I think every man should do that for his wife at least once."

The words made Fulgrim think, his pants growing uncomfortably tight as he imagined you beneath him, begging and moaning as he took his pleasure from you.

"Eidolon." Fulgrim said, not needing to shout over the crowd for his son to hear. "Yes, my Lord?" Eidolon appeared at his side. "Round up the others, we'll be returning to the Pride of the Emperor now."

He bowed slightly and went to fetch his gene brothers.

Fulgrim was half tempted to go to the women and thank them for the ideas, but he stayed his tongue, giving the host his best as he went.

As they departed Fulgrim spied a bottle of that fine wine you hadn't gotten to taste and plucked the bottle from the container of ice keeping it cool. It was for his love after all, you only deserve the best.

When you'd returned you'd had the pieces brought to your private gallery where you kept your own pieces and the one's Fulgrim acquired for you.

You liked the one of a beautiful silver phoenix, its wings spread wide over a mountain top as it looked towards the heavens. You all but bounded off Fulgrim's lap when you saw it, begging him to get it for you with much more fervor than the other pieces. He had, outbidding the others by a fair amount.

You thought about where to hang it before stopping at a piece in front of the lounge where you and Fulgrim often sat drinking wines and just talking for hours. Your heart fluttered at the thought of his smile. Your own painting didn't seem as impressive as the phoenix. You sighed and took it down, setting the new painting in its place. There that looks good, you thought, setting your own aside.

You'd ask him what he thought in the morning, given he'd likely be back later than you wanted to be up.

Slipping onto a comfortable robe and nothing else you got comfortable and cuddled up with one of his shirts from the laundry basket.

His smell made it easier to fall asleep.

It was some hours later that Fulgrim stepped foot back into his and your personal chambers.

He spotted the outline of your body under the blankets. It would be the perfect time to do what he'd been thinking about. Striping down till he was completely bare he left his clothes where they were on the floor and stalked towards the bed.

He was ever so meticulous as he pulled the covers back, revealing you to him a layer at a time.

When he got to the bottom, seeing you in not but a robe he had to palm his hardening cock. Throne you were so beautiful. Of all the art he'd seen that night, you were the only true masterpiece.

He stopped when he noticed something in your hands.

Taking it gently he realized it was his shirt. Your face had been pressed into it. He sniffed the article and just found that it smelled like him. His heart fluttered as he realized why you had it.

Leaning down he kissed your forehead, maybe he would save this for another time, he thought. But then you rolled onto your back, the robe fell open revealing your bare skin and body to him. His cock grew hard enough to hurt, he needed to take care of that.

He knelt on the edge of the bed, careful not to jostle you too much. He wanted you to wake up to what he had planned and not a moment before.

He lowered his face to your heart, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs with the scent of your core.

His mouth watering he pressed his lips to entrance and placed several soft kisses there. He was rewarded with soft moans as you shifted slightly in your sleep.

Fulgrim continued, his kisses growing less light as he felt you getting wetter. His tongue dove into those folds, lapping up the wetness he so loved to taste.

You gasped and your thighs pressed to the side of his face as he dug in more.

A hand suddenly grabbed his hair as your hips bucked up into his mouth, he purred his satisfaction as he drank down every bit of your first orgasm of the evening.

"Fulgrim?" Your sleepy voice reached his ears, there was something about the quality that drove him wild. With the taste of your cum still on his tongue he surged up your body, making you start as he caged your body beneath his.

"Hello sweetheart. Pardon me for waking you."

You felt his erection on your stomach as he began to kiss and nip your neck and shoulders, your body arched against him as he did and he growled something in a language you weren't quite sure of. His hips rutted into you as he sought more friction.

This was quite the change of pace from your normally slow and methodically loving husband. But you weren't going to complain.

"Fulgrim!" You gasped as he rutted against you again, leaving a trail of his arousal there.

He drew back, slotting his cock between your folds and pushed in. Your hand tangled in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss, he obliged happily. He was better than good when it came to kissing and he always left you breathless.

You soft moans against his lips drove him further into his need and he began a shallow but quick rhythm, the bed creaking under you both as he fucked you.

His name fell from your lips like a mantra. Over and over. He loved it, your attention and love was solely his and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He grunted as he felt you clamp down around him, the surest sign he knew aside from your words that your body was complying to his wishes and that you were going to cum. It was rather quick for his tastes but he was in no mood to tease tonight. Instead he'd see how many he could give you before you simply couldn't anymore.

"Oh fuck~ Fulgrim, I'm close." You gasped and he grinned. "Good, cum for me like a good girl." He purred. That did it and you came undone with a shrill cry.

He didn't stop, his arms digging under you to pull you up and hold you closer. "Oh my love." He growled in your ear. "I missed you, so so much, even if it was only a few hours." He pressed his lips to yours in several brief kisses.

"All the artwork I could ever dream and yey all I wanted was to look at you. But you were not there." He pant while squishing you against him and pressed your back pressed into the bed while he held you. His hips are still pounding.

Your brain was a bit foggy after the two orgasms but you held him back. His hearts felt full at the feeling but he did not falter.

"You are the essence of beauty." He continued, "Every artist wishes they could create a masterpiece with even half the splendor a single strand of your hair contains. For if they did they'd have created the finest piece in the universe." His forehead pressed to yours as he spoke. His love did not temper his enthusiasm, it only added fuel to his fire.

His wife, held tight in his arms as he fucked her. Oh how beautiful, oh how magnificent. His thrusts lengthened as he pulled out farther and rolled back into you, the creaking shifted with the change of pace.

It melded with the sweet song of your cries and he indulged in the sinful symphony.

"I love you Fulgrim." You cried, as your next climax began to build.

However the sudden admission caused him to falter, then to cum. His hips snapping forward with blind need as he pumped his load into you.

"I love you." He slurred back feeling higher than a cloud. The feeling of his orgasm gave you your third and you all but screamed.

Fulgrim kissed your nose. Petting your hair as you both came down from your highs.

"Well hello." You laughed as he pulled out and rolled onto his side off of you.

"Hello." He chuckled breathlessly.

You lifted your head to look at him. "How was the rest of the function?" You asked.

"It was okay. Would have been better with you there. I kept looking at all the art but in my mind all I could see was your face in my mind and all of the pieces felt so dull in comparison."

You patted his chest. "Flatterer." You giggled. He took your hand and kissed it.

"But it is true, darling." He smiled.

You fell back into a contented sleep, Fulgrim watched you for a long while. But something felt off, something he couldn't explain. He rolled from the bed, grabbing a robe and walked into the gallery you both shared.

He walked the gallery and stopped as he looked at each picture, sculpture and painting. When he finally reached the place where he'd spent so many long hours with you he turned to look at the painting hung before the lounger he had crafted as one of the many wedding gifts he'd given you.

"Well that's not right." He hummed seeing the phoenix hanging there. Indeed it was a fine piece and even more so up close. Yet he took it down and set it aside, finding the one you'd wanted with your own hands.

He hung it up on the wall and sighed. "That's much better." He felt the wrongness ease from him as he returned to bed. His arms folded around you and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. His gallery was growing, and quite nicely, but every other piece paled in comparison to the masterpiece he held in his arms as he drifted off into a deep contented sleep.

[dangerousconnoisseurdonut]

Deep Space Nine... Pokemon?

OK, I admit I have a problem wherein I inevitably imagine characters of one fandom and try to imagine what kind of Pokemon they would have. We won't be getting bogged down by certain logistics like how a Copperajah would be able to move comfortably on a starship or space station so please don't enter that logistics nightmare.

Let's kick things off with Commander/Captain Sisko, aka: Captain Jesus.

I think his first Pokemon was a Horsea, given to him by his mother who we find out was a Prophet and this would be a little nod to his future where he would raise Jake on his own since sea horse males carry the young and look after them. Naturally, by the time he reaches DS9, it's a full-blown Kingdra and everyone who played Pokemon Ruby/Sapphire/Emerald, knows how annoying those can be to deal with.

Incineroar since it's the Pokemon that, to me, looks the most like a tiger - an animal that goes well with Sisko as, unlike lions, the male hunts for his mate and cubs and waits until they've eaten before he eats and considering Sisko's Dad Energy and his 'family dinners' with his crew, they seem appropriate. I can also imagine little Ben taking the garbage out of his father's restaurant, seeing a Litten trying to grab some food, and getting Fire Fanged when he tries to get closer.

Crawdaunt purely because he comes from New Orleans, it's a crawfish, and I imagine Corphish and Crawdaunt are all over the place there.

Weavile because, as a Sneasel, it helped him in the kitchen with slicing ingredients and I imagine an ice type would be as valuable in the kitchen as a good fire type.

Bisharp - same as Weavile when it was a Pawniard.

Dachsbun - a Pokemon he got from Jennifer or maybe it was Jennifer's and she gave it to him before she died. New Orleans is also known for their pastries so this sounds cute and fun for him, especially with four Dark types and a Dragon.

Jadzia Dax - The Worm Queen

Alakazam would be leftover from Curzon and a good match for a Science Officer.

Exploud - Jadzia, before she got the Symbiote, was once described as a very quiet and mousy person, so a Whismur sounds perfect for her, with it evolving into Loudred after she gets the Symbiote, and later Exploud.

Primarina - Jadzia looks like she would love a little clown like Popplio but Primarina just looks like a better match for her than something like Dewgong.

Quagsire - I don't know, but she looks like someone who would relax with one of her parties or spend the night having a staring contest with her Quagsire, only to discover the dope fell asleep with its eyes open - again.

Applin - I feel like all Trill are given an Applin as children (the worm is the actual Pokemon, not the apple we see with it), but I'm not sure what she would evolve it into as Appletun has the same energy as Quagsire, but Flapple's acidity might appeal to her Klingon loves.

Gengar - c'mon, she's a prankster and Gengar, Haunter, and Gastly are the OG prankster Pokemon.

Worf - Jadzia's Belarusian husband

Ursaring - His stepparents gave him a Teddiursa when he first came to Earth as a symbol for how small and weak he might have been feeling, but it didn't take long for he and it to become the grumpy bears they are today.

Gallade - It's honourable and a blade Pokemon; what else can I say?

Annihilape - A Pokemon that is known for it's temper and love of fighting to the point it died and came back stronger; the only fighting race better suited to this thing are the Saiyans.

Hariyama - A powerful sumo wrestler-type fighting Pokemon that Worf would enjoy testing his strength against.

Kommo-o - A fighting/dragon type perfectly matches Worf.

Abomasnow - An ice type seems appropriate for someone raised in Russia and I can see young Worf going out every day to wrestle these things, but there was one he could never defeat; when he finally did, he became a 'proper Klingon' and it joined his team.

Odo - Slimy Cop (literally)

Ditto and Zoroark - they are shapeshifting Pokemon; do I really need to elaborate?

Kira (Sisko's first adoption as his guerrilla daughter)

Gallade - a master of courtesy and swordmanship, a protector, and an honourable warrior; call me crazy, but I think a Pokemon like this would be perfect for Kira.

Gardevoir - this would appeal to the elegance Kira seldom allows herself to indulge in, to say nothing of the highly protective nature this Pokemon possesses when it comes to a worthy trainer

Mamoswine - I realize this might seem odd, but hear me out; Swinub are known for their ability to sniff things out, especially food, so this would be a good Pokemon for Bajorans to give children in the hope that they can find food for themselves. Add to the fact it's an ice type, and I imagine all Bajoran freedom fighters had at least one ice type to help them against Cardassians, who are known for despising the cold.

Medicham - A fighting/psychic type seems perfect for Kira as she's a fighter but it's balanced by her faith (it can also learn Ice Punch, which seems perfect for a Bajoran rebel).

Miles O'Brien - the man we love to watch suffer

Ampharos - Miles is an engineer and he's Irish so an electric sheep seems pretty accurate.

Conkeldurr - Strong fighting types also seem pretty standard for engineering and it's a burly fighter so that seems in line with Ireland (no stereotypes here; I'm Irish on both sides of my family).

Klinklang - Steel types are another standard engineering Pokemon, especially if they can see their trainer is about to get hurt and they take the hit instead, given the fact steel types have amazing defence stats. I can also see this little Klink teasing Miles by hiding in the bulkeads like an old-fashioned gear would have, and Miles trying to keep this little joker away from Picard.

Gogoat - This, like Dachsbun with Sisko, was a gift from Keiko who loves grass type Pokemon and there are goats in Ireland.

Camerupt - Ground types would be a good idea when working around electricity and Miles would appreciate a fire type, especially when the heat goes on the fritz on the station. It probably sleeps in Molly's room to act as a humidifier (I remember the anime episode and James had almost a dozen Numel in his room for this effect).

Torterra - Honestly, this was probably his starter as it was fast like him in his youth, but as it evolved it slowed down and engineering, despite what Kirk, Picard, and Riker think, really shouldn't be rushed as that can lead to mistakes.

Keiko O'Brien (hers is pretty simple but she doesn't get enough love so let's give her her own list, shall we?)

Meganium - A lovely Pokemon introduced in a bad region for it, Keiko would love it. Meganium also emits a soothing scent from its flower and Keiko sometimes needs a little soothing when dealing with Miles' stubbornness or insensitivity.

Venomoth - What's a botanist without a pollinator and those like Beautifly and Butterfree get too much attention; Venomoth would see toxic spores coming towards his trainer and blow them away.

Carnivine - It's easy to love a beautiful flower, but Keiko is just as interested in the plants that have some personality to them.

Arboliva - A compassionate Pokemon that shares it nutrient rich oil with weakened Pokemon; Keiko loves studying its uses and Julian sometimes asks for some of its oil to study it himself or to use on an injured Pokemon.

Vaporeon - Plants need watering and someone needed an Eeveelution ;)

Torkoal - Sounds weird, but most plants also need sunlight to thrive so its Drought ability would be just as useful and near essential as Vaporeon's watering. Turtles are also a sign of good luck in Japan, which Keiko is descended from and she often interjects her heritage when she can, such as Rivals when she gives Miles a Japanese silk scarf scented with her perfume for good luck (I can also see her having a Torkoal that's as emotional as Ash's was in the anime).

Elim Garak - not an easy man, but I'll give it a shot.

Leavanny - It literally weaves clothes for any small Pokemon it finds and I recall the first thing Ash's did when it evolved mid-battle as I recall was make clothes for Pikachu, Axew, and some wild Sewaddle who looked quite bedraggled. This might have been Tain's last 'gift' to Garak after he was exiled.

Ariados - Similar to Leavanny with it's silk, but also a little devious or am I the only one who gets "Welcome to my parlour" vibes when Garak is initially around Julian (and maybe a little afterwards)?

Amoongus - Garak was a gardener (and possibly a poisoner) so I imagine he has more than a few grass types and he would naturally prefer toxic beauty over traditional beauty. If you disagree with Amoongus, Vileplume and Victreebell are also options.

Krookodile - I imagine ground, rock, and steel types are very popular/common on Cardassia, a desert planet, so I imagine Sandile is a very common Pokemon and, considering Garak's upbringing, he probably caught his first one without any help from anyone (possibly naming it Mila?). There's also the fact that it's always smiling, like a certain tailor.

Typhlosion - This was a gift (as a Cyndaquil) from Julian after The Wire when Garak remarked how cold the station often was, so he got a Pokemon that can emit flames without it being dangerous like say a Charizard (wagging tails with open flames at the tip around fabrics - bad idea). I know Skeledirge is more reptilian in appearance, but I think Julian would want to avoid the idea of him possibly being accused of stereotyping Garak with reptiles, despite Krookodile being Garak's only other reptilian Pokemon.

And, last but certainly not least, my favourite character - Dr. Twink, er, I mean, Julian Bashir.

Gyarados - One of Julian's relatives gave little Jules a Magikarp as they all figured he couldn't get hurt from such a weak, pathetic Pokemon. Jules loved this worthless fish so much, it inspired said fish to become stronger, until one day it evolved into the atrocious Pokemon and everyone expected it to ignore Jules/Julian (he's probably been augmented by this point) but the scary fish is just as loyal as when it was a pathetic fish.

Flygon - The unnamed aunt who doted on Jules gave him a Pokemon notorious for it's (physical) slowness but powerful attack as a symbol that Jules did have his strengths, he just needed guidance in finding them (and then he was augmented, but Julian still figured out how to play to Trapinch's strengths until it became a Vibrava and then a Flygon, who learned Flamethrower to compensate for it's 4x weakness to ice).

Roserade - Julian still has trouble making friends so, when he finds a little Budew, he tries making friends with it and it's not long before it becomes a Roselia, and then a Roserade who adores its trainer (and approves of Garak who always has special grass-type treats for it)

Lucario - Another friendship evolution but Riolu sought Julian out when his aura flared at discovering the truth about his augmentations. Julian is feeling terrible but Riolu can see he has a good aura and stays with him and it's not long before it becomes a Lucario and, with its Heal Pulse, helps Julian in the infirmary while trying to make his trainer remember to eat and sleep. Garak's aura is hard for even Lucario to read and so always keeps an eye on him to protect his trainer (which Garak can appreciate).

Dracovish - Yes, one of the Frankenstein Pokemon that looks incredibly ridiculous; perhaps someone at Starfleet Academy was performing experiments on fossil Pokemon, this one escaped and found Julian, who was naturally sympathetic to someone being experimented on without consent, blew the whistle on the experiments and Dracovish refused to leave Julian so he got a fellow Frankenstein companion (who possibly likes biting him like Ash's in the anime).

And finally, Julian's ace; Mimikyu - This was the first Pokemon Jules ever caught, and he didn't need the help of Magikarp or Trapinch to get it; Jules found this Pokemon that looks like a rag doll and thought it was the cutest thing he had ever seen (after Magikarp and Trapinch of course). Mimikyu fell in love with this strange boy and vowed to always protect him; his parents did everything they could to keep the 'creepy' Pokemon away, but Mimikyu always came back, even saving Kukalaka when Amsha tried to throw him away, and acted as a nurse while Jules 'operated' and saved him. He was unable to save Jules from being augmented, but Julian still loved him, and Mimikyu became even more protective; he actually popped out of his Pokeball when Garak approached Julian, frightening some who had never seen such a Pokemon before, except for Garak who found Mimikyu adorable, but the little ghost refused to be buttered up. Mimikyu has even tried stabbing Garak (with a butter knife but he tried) and Garak finds himself enchanted by the protective Pokemon who wants to protect its trainer so badly.

And there you have it; my Pokemon teams for the main DS9 crew (I don't know Quark enough to give him anything more than Pokemon like Meowth, Impidimp, Rattata, etc). Let me know your thoughts; who do you agree on and who left you scratching your head as you wonder, 'How did she ever think Garak would have that Pokemon instead of this one?' What kind of Pokemon do you think Dukat would have?

[darsynia]

I can only imagine the excitement to come across a candidate like that!

Some of the key staffers silently hate it because every minute of strategy time is invaluable

WELL TOO BAD 🔪🔪🔪 the ides are leaking

I really hope there’s a picture of the kiss and one of them looks at it later and it’s not AT ALL what they remember happening (like seeing it through a different lens, literally)

I think Santos is very much his own man, so this makes a lot of sense as an endorsement, not just because he’s a character we already know.

The arena, usually home to hockey games and concerts

I SEE YOU

I can definitely see Steve being an exciting candidate who might have the chance to break that two-party lock on the majority. I wonder if Steve would think it’s dishonest and underhanded to court Congressmen for that contingency.

Bucky huffs a laugh, “No, sir. The last thing I would want is to be in charge of a circus like this.”

Canon says, famous last words

In about three days, we’re going to push heavily down the middle of the country and then make a swing across the southern states

not to mention grabbing centrists along the way, heh. ALSO, good set up afterwards for them needing some personal knowledge about each other…

I’d love to know what Steve is thinking re: his disappointment there. He was told that she’s good for his campaign, and that was a good campaign decision, and there’s nothing personal there on paper! So I both like and am annoyed by the pull-back. I suspect it’s some blindness and mental exhaustion.

Red, White & True: Fort Wayne, Toledo, Detroit [4/?]

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 4.2k Summary: A campaign day with stops in three cities in three states ends up being a game-changer you weren't expecting, and not only for the campaign.

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

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[SEPTEMBER 21 - MORNING - FORT WAYNE, INDIANA]

After your first and only attempt at a private, non-business breakfast between you and Steve in the dining area next to the hotel lobby the morning after dinner at the Santos house, your staff and the Secret Service detail on Steve forbade you from trying anything like that ever again. Six a.m. was early, but there were far too many early bird guests showing up for breakfast as well, only to find a presidential candidate and former Avenger amongst the self-serve breakfast buffet and excited chaos had ensued. Even if the personnel around you hadn’t forbidden it, it had been immediately clear the privacy you used to expect in in a public setting was gone.

Since then, you and Steve have found other ways to carve out moments together amid the whirlwind of the campaign. Usually it’s quick conversations in the back of the campaign bus or on the plane. It's not ideal, but it's something, and you find yourself looking forward to these small pockets of time more than you'd care to admit.

Some of the key staffers silently hate it because every minute of strategy time is invaluable, so you and Steve pledged to only steal up to thirty minutes, and Bucky and Sophia take it in stride as one of their new duties to help protect that time because if the Roger and Rogers happy couple campaign approach is the M.O. now, then they argue that the happy couple needs alone time to stay a happy couple. Sophia only thinks it’s tending to the needs you have as newlyweds embedded in the campaign circus to have normalcy as a couple. It’s only Bucky who knows the truth (and Sam).

A single day on the presidential campaign trail always felt like at least two days of a regular life, but it often feels more like three or four days, especially on multi-city days, which were starting to become more and more common as it got closer to the first Tuesday in November. But this highly saturated time flow makes it so that the time you and Steve have started intentionally spending time together is having a marked effect on your relationship.

You enjoy the more serious conversations as much as you enjoy the more superficial topics because both ends of the spectrum allow you to simply engage and learn each others’ personalities and histories and opinions. Sitting in the back of the bus on your way to a rally, you’re exchanging takes on Star Wars (you had grown up watching them in very distinct trilogy stages where Steve had seen the first two trilogies in his initial pop culture catch up phase), when there’s a surge of noise and activity at the front of the bus.

You and Steve both glance towards the front of the bus, where a commotion has erupted. The noise level rises as staffers huddle around someone's phone, their voices intense, but strangely you can’t tell if it’s leaning more towards excitement or concern. You strain to hear what's being said, catching snippets of "breaking news" and "can't believe it."

Bucky's voice cuts through the clamor, slightly louder than the rest. "It can wait," he insists firmly. "We're almost at the venue."

Your heart rate quickens, anxiety creeping in at the edges of your mind.

You start to rise, but Steve places a hand on your arm. "Let's give it a minute," he says softly. "If it's urgent, they'll tell us."

You nod, settling back into your seat, but you can see the tense energy now in Steve’s body. You can almost see the gears turning in his mind, trying to anticipate what the clamor could be about.

After another moment, you arch your eyebrow at Steve. “The anticipation is going to kill both of us back here,” you say earnestly. “If we’re nearly at the venue anyway, we can table this and get back to more Star Wars at lunch.”

Steve huffs a laugh and agrees, and you pop up out of your seat again, and Steve follows as you quickly make your way to the front.

“What’s happening?” you ask, drawing the attention of the staff to you and Steve.

“Santos endorsed Steve!” Elsa trills. You’ve never seen her this happy.

You feel a surge of excitement and pride. The Santos endorsement is huge - you know it is without question a game-changer for the campaign. You turn around to look at Steve, a massive smile beaming from your face, enthusiasm you see mirrored right back from him. You don’t know if you reach for him or he reaches for you because it’s so quick, but your lips crash together, your stomach flips, and the staff cheers around you. It ends as quickly as it began, and the two of you turn back to the others, eager for more details.

"When did this happen?" Steve asks, his voice steady but tinged with excitement.

Sam, who'd gone back to scrolling through his phone, looks up. "Just now. Santos made the announcement over his Instagram, and it's already dominating the news cycle."

"What exactly did he say?" Steve asks, placing a hand on your shoulder as he moves in closer behind you, leaning over to look at Sam's phone.

Sam clears his throat and begins to read: "After careful consideration and having had the opportunity to speak with Captain Rogers, I believe he is the right person to lead our nation forward. His integrity, vision, and commitment to public service are exactly what we need in these challenging times. I am proud to endorse Steve Rogers for President of the United States."

Another collective cheer goes up from the staff. You feel Steve's hand tighten slightly on your shoulder, and when you look up at him, you see a mix of emotions playing across his face - pride, excitement, and a touch of humility.

"This is huge," seasoned campaign mastermind Jake finally weighs in, his usual stoic demeanor cracking slightly to reveal a hint of a smile. "Santos's endorsement would carry a lot of weight for any candidate, especially with moderates and independents, but it not only brings your first major endorsement, it’s a resounding statement for a former president to break from his party to endorse an independent."

You nod in agreement, your mind already racing with the implications. The Santos administration is still widely respected, and their endorsement could sway a significant number of voters.

Steve nods, his expression a mix of gratitude and determination. "It is," he agrees. "But we can't let it go to our heads. We still have a lot of work to do."

"Of course," you say, admiring his level-headedness even in this moment of triumph. "But we should take a moment to celebrate this moment."

You imagine it was always on Jake’s mind that an endorsement would be the best case scenario from a private dinner at the Santos home, but Steve had been very vocal to everyone involved - from the campaign side to Santos and his people - that for him the opportunity was only to be able to spend time with a former president. You had certainly gone into it without any agenda, grateful, even, for one night where you weren’t politic-ing.

The bus slows to turn into the loading bay area of the venue, and Jake calls everyone to attention to get the staff focused back on the rally only minutes away. You listen to his directives and reminders, but while you do so, you realize the kiss you just shared is the first lip lock between you and your husband since the wedding, and there’s a bit of warmth that pools in your chest. You resist the pull you feel to look at him.

[SEPTEMBER 21 - AFTERNOON - TOLEDO, OHIO]

The energy in Toledo's Huntington Center is electric as you and Steve make your way through the bustling backstage area for the second major campaign event of the day. The arena, usually home to hockey games and concerts, has been transformed into a political rally venue, with red, white, and blue banners adorning every available surface. The air is thick with anticipation, and you can hear the growing roar of the crowd beyond the curtain.

Staffers rush past, clipboards in hand, headsets firmly in place. You catch snippets of conversations about crowd size, security measures, and last-minute speech adjustments. The Santos endorsement has injected a new level of excitement into an already charged atmosphere.

As you approach the holding area, you spot Bucky conferring with the head of security, his expression serious as he nods along to whatever information he's receiving. Sam is nearby, phone to his ear, likely coordinating with media outlets eager for comments on the endorsement.

You can hear the low rumble of the crowd, punctuated by occasional cheers and chants of "Rogers! Rogers!" The excitement is palpable, and you can feel your own adrenaline starting to surge.

Steve turns to you, his eyes bright with excitement but also a hint of nervousness. "Ready?" he asks, his voice low enough that only you can hear.

You take a deep breath, smoothing down your blazer. "Let’s do this," your reply and this simple exchange is becoming tradition every time the two of you are about to step out in public now. It’s nice starting to have things like this, things that are yours. "How about you? Feeling the pressure after that endorsement?"

He chuckles softly. "A little," he admits. "But it's a good pressure. Motivating."

You nod in understanding. The weight of expectation has grown even heavier with Santos's support even though it’s only been a matter of hours, but you can see the determination in Steve's eyes. He's ready for this part of the challenge.

Suddenly, Jake appears at your side, clipboard in hand. "Two minutes," he says briskly. "Steve, they've added a few lines to your speech to address the endorsement. The changes are on the monitor.”

Steve nods, quickly scanning the teleprompter nearby. You watch as his eyes move rapidly across the screen, absorbing the new information. His ability to process and adapt on the fly never ceases to amaze you.

"Got it," he says, turning back to Jake. "Anything else?"

"Hit the key points as you always do," Jake replies. "And maybe throw in a line about unity, given the cross-party nature of the endorsement."

As Jake steps away to confer with another staffer, you feel a gentle touch on your arm. You turn to see Sophia standing beside you, a reassuring smile on her face.

"You've got this," she says softly. "Both of you. Just be yourselves out there."

You return her smile, grateful for her steady presence. "Thanks, Sophia. We'll do our best."

The stage manager approaches. “Thirty seconds,” she announces.

This is it. Another pivotal moment in the campaign, perhaps even more significant than you'd initially realized. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself.

Steve turns to you one last time, his eyes soft. He reaches out and squeezes your hand briefly, a gesture of solidarity and support that sends a flutter through your chest. You squeeze back, drawing strength from his touch.

The stage manager starts counting down. "Ten seconds!"

You can hear the crowd's excitement building to a fever pitch. The announcer's voice booms through the arena, introducing you and Steve. Your heart races as the curtain begins to part.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your next President and First Lady…”

That’s the moment you and Steve step out onto the stage, hand in hand, and the deafening roar of the crowd drowns out your names entirely. The lights and the energy spike the excitement and adrenaline, and it’s another moment in this campaign - and the second one of the day - that you know you’ll remember for a lifetime.

[SEPTEMBER 21 - EVENING - DETROIT, MICHIGAN]

The clock on the wall of the dimly lit campaign office reads 11:47 PM, but the energy in the room belies the late hour. The makeshift headquarters, hastily set up in yet another hotel conference room, buzzes with activity. Staffers huddle around laptops, their faces illuminated by the blue glow of screens, while others engage in hushed conversations, gesticulating animatedly as they dissect the day's events.

You sink into a worn leather armchair, feeling the weight of the day settle into your bones. The town hall here in Detroit had gone well - better than well, actually. The momentum from Santos's endorsement earlier in the day had carried through, infusing the crowd with an infectious enthusiasm. They had been engaged, asking thoughtful questions that Steve had handled with his characteristic blend of sincerity and statesmanship. But now, in the quiet aftermath, exhaustion tugs at the edges of your consciousness.

Despite the strain of a three-location-day catching up with you and everyone else, you can’t deny that there’s a different, very palpable sense of possibility hanging in the air. The campaign has always been optimistic, but there was a bit of a silent agreement in the air to ignore the fact that Steve Rogers - no political background and no political party - was a dark horse swimming upstream. The first nod from outside camp Rogers wasn’t a golden ticket to victory, but the news media was already discussing Steve in a different tone - giving more legitimacy in coverage rather than curiosity in coverage. With only six weeks left, it is not enough to win 270 electoral votes, and although that was the dream, it was never the realistic target. The target from the beginning was to get enough votes to keep either of the other two candidates from taking the majority and be a major player in that battle, making a case to be seriously considered if you could get the election turned over to the Congress to decide.

A Santos backing was the serious foot hold to take this scenario from a possibility to a probability.

Steve sits across from you, his brow furrowed as he reviews the daily notes Jake’s deputy campaign chairman has prepared and distributed.

You watch Steve as he reads, marveling at his ability to maintain focus after such a long and eventful day. His eyes move methodically across the page, occasionally pausing as he considers a particular point. Even in this state of concentration, there's an aura of quiet strength about him that never seems to fade.

"Anything notable?" you ask, your voice slightly rough from the day's speeches and conversations.

Steve looks up, a tight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Just the usual - poll numbers, upcoming events, media coverage. But there's definitely been a shift since this morning."

You nod, understanding the implication. “The Santos effect.”

"Jake's team is already planning how to capitalize on the momentum."

You get the same notes as well but prefer to read them once you’re back in your room. Steve hands you the page he’s been pouring over, and you lean forward to take and then study it. A comfortable silence falls between you, broken only by the muffled sounds of the staffers working. The new trends and polling numbers aren’t just good, they’re great.

Bucky takes a seat next to Steve, clocking you both looking into the daily report. “This kind of shift is good,” he says, “but now we just need to see it carry over and build from here on out.”

“Are you coming for my job, Mr. Barnes?” Jake asks, taking a seat at the table as well.

Bucky huffs a laugh, “No, sir. The last thing I would want is to be in charge of a circus like this.”

Jake smiles, and Steve and Bucky aren’t looking at him anymore, but you see the deeper look on Jake’s face. You’ve seen it on him before, it’s the look when he’s considering an idea - hisown or one suggested by the team - that he sees serious potential in. Even if he protests, Jake clearly sees potential in Bucky.

You would have to admit that you agree. Bucky understands Steve, and as he's stood shoulder to shoulder with him through this campaign, he's proven to be an invaluable asset. His strategic mind, honed by years of military experience, often provides insights that complement Jake's political savvy.

"Speaking of circuses," Jake says, voice louder, "let’s bring it in, folks.”

The rest of the key staffers all grab seats or press in around the table, and then Jake begins the end-of-day meeting. “We need to discuss tomorrow's schedule. The media's going to be on us far more seriously, and we need to be prepared for that shift in the tone of questions."

Steve nods, his expression serious. "What's the plan?"

"Engaging and not dry, but policy, policy, policy. We've got three major network interviews lined up for tomorrow morning. Steve, you'll be doing those. We want to capitalize on this momentum, but we also need to be careful not to appear too cocky."

"Understood," Steve replies.

"We've also got a strategy session scheduled for noon," Jake continues. "We’ve been reassessing our messaging in light of the Santos endorsement, but we want to see what it looks like after the burst from day one. We should have options for you to decide on then.”

You nod, understanding the delicate balance Jake is trying to strike. "What about the afternoon?"

Jake flips through his notes. "We've got a rally scheduled in Lansing at 3 PM. After that, we're heading to Chicago for a fundraiser in the evening."

Steve leans forward, his elbows on the table. "And what about the other candidates? Any word on their reactions to the endorsement?"

Sam speaks up. "Both camps have been relatively quiet so far. They're likely scrambling to adjust their strategies. We can expect some pushback tomorrow, though."

“I imagine we’ll see the Dems will be particularly cagey. They won’t want to look like a party divided,” Elsa explains, “but the reality is that one of their favored sons did just speak out and split where their support was supposed to go. The GOP-leaning media outlets are already gleefully stirring up chaos on their end, but nothing from their campaign yet.”

Jake nods in agreement. "What I wouldn’t give to have seen Johnson’s reaction to the news,” he says, referring to the other campaign manager, the rival that the DNC pushed over him for this presidential campaign cycle.

“After this initial new surge with policy,” Elsa takes over, “we want to redirect the narrative to you, Steve. We know America votes for people as much as they vote for policy. In about three days, we’re going to push heavily down the middle of the country and then make a swing across the southern states leading into the next debate. With that, we’re thinking about a series of casual, intimate interviews, more insight into your character, showing you’re not just the figure from history books or Avengers action over the last dozen years, but enough of a regular guy that they could have a beer with you.”

Steve nods, “All right.”

“You and Mrs. Rogers,” Jake tacks on.

Steve raises his eyebrows, but looks to you. This is the second time you’ve been brought in as a specific element to move the campaign forward.

You feel a flutter of nervousness at the mention of more intimate interviews, but you nod in agreement. "Of course, whatever helps the campaign."

Jake continues, "We're thinking of setting up some joint interviews, maybe even a day-in-the-life style piece. Show the public the real future First Couple, beyond the campaign speeches and rallies."

Steve reaches over and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "We can do that," he says, his voice steady and reassuring.

Jake clears his throat. "Excellent. Now, let's talk about debate prep. The next one is coming up fast, and we need to be ready for the next level of scrutiny."

The meeting continues for another hour, with strategies being discussed and assignments doled out. By the time Jake calls it a night, it's just past 1 AM. As the staffers begin to file out, you feel the full weight of exhaustion finally hit you. Luckily your room is only a few floors and a short walk above you.

Steve stands up, stretching slightly. "Ready to call it a night?" he asks, walking around the table and offering you his hand.

You nod gratefully, allowing him to pull you to your feet. As you gather your things, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension about the days ahead.

As you and Steve make your way to the elevator, you can feel the exhaustion settling deep into your bones. The day's events replay in your mind - the unexpected endorsement, the electrifying rallies, the late-night strategy session. It's all a blur of excitement and intensity.

The elevator doors close, leaving you and Steve alone for the first time since this morning. In the quiet confines of the small space, you lean against the wall, letting out a long breath.

As the elevator ascends, you find yourself studying Steve's face. Despite the long hours and constant pressure, he still looks composed, though you can see the fatigue in the slight slump of his shoulders and the faint lines around his eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask.

Steve turns to you, a tired smile playing at his lips. "Just thinking about how surreal this all is," he says softly. "A few months ago, I was trying to lay low in this century, keep out of the spotlight. Now..." He trails off, shaking his head slightly.

You nod, understanding. "Now you're vying to become the leader of the free world with every minute of your life under a microscope," you finish for him.

"Yeah," he breathes out. "But at least it’s not every minute."

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at your floor. As you step out into the hallway, Steve places a gentle hand on the small of your back, guiding you towards your room. The touch, though light, sends a wave of warmth through you.

"How are you holding up?" he asks as you reach the door. "This can't be easy for you either."

You pause, key card in hand, considering his question. "It's... intense," you admit. "But I'm okay. Better than okay, actually. This whole experience, as crazy as it is, feels important. And I think we’re both getting stronger at this campaign thing every day."

Steve's eyes soften as he looks at you, a mix of admiration and concern in his gaze. "You've been amazing through all of this," he says quietly. "Now it’s hard to imagine doing it without you."

His words send a flutter through your chest. You're about to respond when you notice a slight shift in Steve's demeanor. He glances quickly down the hallway, then back at you, a hint of hesitation in his eyes.

"Listen," he says, his voice low. "I know we're both exhausted, but... do you want to come in for a bit? Just to talk, or... I don't know. It feels like we haven't had a real moment alone in-”

“Ever?” you finish for him.

Steve winces. “Yeah.”

You shift slightly. “I don’t know, it’s so late.”

Steve nods, understanding in his eyes. "You're right, it is late. We should both get some rest."

You feel a pang of regret at the slight disappointment you see flash across his face. "Maybe we can carve out some time tomorrow?" you suggest, not wanting to leave things on a down note.

"Definitely," Steve agrees with a soft smile. "We'll make it happen." But you see his expression is more closed off, and wonder if you’ve now taken two steps back.

There's a moment of awkward silence as you both stand there, neither quite ready to say goodnight.

Finally, Steve clears his throat. "Well, goodnight.”

"Goodnight," you reply.

As Steve turns to head to his own room, you slip your key card into the door and enter your suite. Once inside, you lean against the closed door, letting out a long sigh. The truth is, there is a big part of you that wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him, away from the prying eyes of staff and security. But you're also acutely aware of the need to maintain boundaries, especially given the unique nature of your arrangement.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you pull it out to see there’s a message from Sophia with some questions she needs you to make decisions on for the morning. You send off your reply, then mindlessly fall into your nighttime routine, decompressing from the day, getting ready for bed, and tucking in with your tablet. You go over the daily debrief and ready notes for the campaign, and then move on to your Kindle app and fall asleep before finishing even two pages, alone.

next part: DC, Tampa, Athens

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