#A) repeating what everyone has said already

[ceeaann]

— No more Running ✦

Paring- Popstar!Caitlyn x Rockstar!Reader Summary - When a PR scandal forces pop superstar Caitlyn Kiramman into a fake relationship with the industry's most unpredictable star, neither expects the lines between pretend and reality to blur. But with the world watching, what happens when fake love starts to feel real? Content - 14.6k words, a valentines special collab with @kkoga Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Angst → to → Fluff, Social Media Chaos, Celebrity!AU, Emotional Walls, Self-Discovery

The pop princess. The sweetheart of the industry. The untouchable, impeccable, perfect A-lister with an empire of adoring fans.

Caitlyn Kiramman had spent years building her name, curating her image until it gleamed like polished gold. Every performance was flawless, every red carpet appearance pristine. She was elegance and talent wrapped into one, the kind of star who made the world swoon.

And right now, the world was turning against her.

She barely had time to sit down before Elena, her manager, pressed play on a remote, and the giant flatscreen in front of her came to life.

“Caitlyn Kiramman’s Drunken Rant—Diva Behavior or Justified Callout?”“Former Employees Speak Out: ‘She’s Cold, Distant, Hard to Work With’”“Has the Pop Princess Fallen from Grace?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. She already knew the headlines—she’d spent the last week watching them multiply like wildfire. She ran a hand down her face. “Just tell me what we’re doing about it.”

Elena didn’t miss a beat. “You’re getting a relationship.”

Caitlyn blinked. “…What?”

“A fake one. Something to soften your image. Make you look more fun, more human.” Caitlyn groaned. “Not this again—” “Caitlyn,” Elena cut in, serious now. “This is bigger than just you. Your label is worried. The PR is getting out of control. We need to change the narrative now.”

Caitlyn knew what that meant. It meant the story had reached higher-ups, and they were breathing down Elena’s neck.

Still, she wasn’t convinced. “And how is dating someone supposed to fix all that?” Elena clicked another button, and the screen changed. Caitlyn frowned as a face she recognized but had never met stared back at her.

Oh.

You.

You weren’t some random industry plant. You were a force. A genre-bending, award-winning artist with a reputation for being unpredictable. You weren’t reckless, but you were untamed, the kind of person who said what they wanted and made no apologies.

And now, apparently, you were supposed to be her girlfriend.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Elena smirked. “You two are perfect opposites. The media’s going to eat it up.” Caitlyn crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. “And they agreed to this?” Elena didn’t hesitate. “Their team is already discussing logistics.”

Caitlyn wanted to argue. She wanted to say this was a terrible idea, that there had to be another way. But she knew the truth: her team had already made up their minds.

And, whether she liked it or not, she was going to be fake-dating you.

_

The wild card. The genre-bending sensation. The artist that no one could predict, yet everyone wanted a piece of.

You weren’t just a musician—you were an event. Every song you dropped trended worldwide. Every appearance, every unfiltered interview, every bold move sent shockwaves through the industry. You weren’t reckless, but you were untamed—the kind of artist who set stages on fire (literally) and made headlines whether you meant to or not.

And right now, you were about to be part of the most bizarre headline of your career.

You almost choked on your drink when Riley, your manager, dropped the news.

“Come again?” you coughed, setting your glass down. “Fake dating,” Riley repeated, as if that was something normal people did. “With Caitlyn Kiramman.” You stared at her, waiting for the punchline. “You’re joking.”

She didn’t blink.

“…You’re not joking.” Riley leaned forward. “Listen, before you say no—” “Oh, I’m saying no.” You raised a hand. “No way. Not happening.” “You haven’t even heard the full pitch yet.” “I don’t need to hear it! I don’t do PR relationships.” You waved a hand vaguely. “I make music. I break things. I set things on fire—”

“—which is exactly why this will work.”

You frowned. “…What?” Riley sighed and pulled out her tablet, swiping through images until she landed on one of Caitlyn. “You’re chaos. She’s order. You’re unpredictable. She’s untouchable. It’s perfect.”

You raised an eyebrow. “And why does she need me?”Riley clicked to another screen—one filled with articles about Caitlyn’s supposed coldness, her lack of relatability. “She needs a humanizing angle. You need to clean up your image.” You scoffed, leaning back. “I don’t need to clean up anything.” Riley gave you a look. “You set a stage on fire last year.”

“…It was symbolic.”

“It was a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

You exhaled through your nose, drumming your fingers on your knee. You weren’t opposed to chaos, but this? This was something else.

But.

Caitlyn Kiramman was huge. A worldwide pop phenomenon. If this worked, it wouldn’t just fix your media issues—it would explode your career.

Still, you hated the idea of being someone’s PR tool.

“…She actually agreed to this?” you asked, raising a brow. “She didn’t say no.” You snorted. “So we’re both being forced into this, huh?” Riley grinned. “Exactly.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

Well.

This was going to be interesting.

_

The meeting was set in neutral territory—a private lounge in one of the most expensive hotels in the city. Exclusive. Isolated. The kind of place where celebrities made deals and signed contracts away from the prying eyes of the public.

Caitlyn arrived first.

She sat on one side of the sleek marble table, legs crossed, fingers tapping an idle rhythm against the arm of her chair. She was used to high-stakes meetings, but this? This was a whole new level of ridiculous.

She checked her watch.

You were late.

Of course.

She let out a slow breath and reached for her phone, ignoring the quiet murmurs of her team seated nearby. Then, just as she was about to send a message—

The door swung open.

And there you were.

Dressed like you’d just thrown on whatever was closest—half effort, half effortless. Caitlyn had seen you in award shows and magazine covers before, but in person, you carried the same unpredictable energy as your music. A mix of confidence and recklessness, like you belonged in the room but could burn it down just as easily.

“Apologies for the wait,” you said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I had better things to do.”

Caitlyn arched a brow. “And yet, here you are.”

You smirked and dropped into the chair across from her, stretching your legs out like you had all the time in the world. “Guess we’re both stuck with this, huh?”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened. She hated that you were right.

Elena cleared her throat. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get down to business.”

Your manager, Riley, was the first to speak. “This relationship needs to be believable. The media is already eating up the rumors—what we need is controlled exposure.”

Caitlyn barely suppressed an eye roll. She knew how this worked.

Public appearances. Paparazzi setups. Social media teases.

A performance.

She folded her hands in her lap. “Fine. What’s the plan?”

Riley pulled out her tablet. “We start with a casual ‘leak.’ Something subtle—like the two of you being spotted together at a low-key restaurant. Then we build it up. A few joint outings, a couple of social media posts, and eventually, a red carpet moment.”

You let out a low whistle. “Wow. A whole script for our fake romance. Cute.”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes. “I don’t see you coming up with a better idea.”

You tilted your head. “Because I wouldn’t have agreed to this in the first place.”

Caitlyn scoffed. “And yet, here you are.”

Your smirk faltered for half a second. Then, you leaned forward, resting your chin on your palm. “Tell me something, Kiramman.” Your voice was smooth, almost teasing. “Have you ever actually been in a real relationship? Or are you always this good at faking it?”

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched against her lap.

Her team stiffened, but she didn’t break eye contact.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

You hummed, tapping your fingers against the table. “Just curious how much practice you’ve had.”

Caitlyn refused to take the bait. “More than enough to make this work.”

Your lips curled into something unreadable. “Good to know.”

Elena, who had been watching the exchange with barely concealed exasperation, finally interjected. “Alright. Enough with the theatrics. The two of you need to at least pretend to get along if this is going to work.”

Caitlyn sighed, pushing down the irritation rising in her chest. She turned back to you. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

You grinned, propping your elbow on the table. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”

Caitlyn hated how much the nickname made her jaw clench.

You weren’t sure what was worse—the fact that you were sitting across from Caitlyn Kiramman discussing the logistics of your fake relationship, or the fact that she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else.

The hotel lounge was dimly lit, the kind of place meant for quiet conversations and under-the-table deals. Your managers had left the two of you alone to “get comfortable,” but so far, the only thing you were comfortable with was the silence.

Caitlyn exhaled sharply, clasping her hands on the table. “Alright. If we’re going to do this, we need rules.”

You smirked. “Rules? Cute. Didn’t peg you for a contractual obligations kind of girl.”

Her jaw tightened. “This isn’t a joke.”

“Never said it was.” You leaned back in your chair, draping one arm over the backrest. “So? What are your conditions, sweetheart?”

The muscle in her jaw twitched at the nickname, but she let it go. “First—no surprises.”

You raised a brow. “Define surprises.”

“I mean no unexpected interviews, no cryptic social media posts, and definitely no public incidents.” She shot you a pointed look. “I don’t need another scandal on my hands.”

You hummed, tapping your fingers against the table. “So basically, don’t be me.”

Her expression remained unreadable. “Just… keep things controlled.”

You sighed, resting your chin in your palm. “Fine. What else?”

She hesitated for half a second before continuing. “We need a timeline. A relationship that starts too fast will look suspicious.”

You tilted your head. “Oh? And what’s the official Kiramman guide to slow-burn romance?”

Caitlyn ignored the jab and pulled out her phone, scrolling through a set of notes. “First, a subtle leak—maybe a blurry paparazzi photo of us together.”

You snorted. “And what? Let the internet explode over one image? You must have a lot of faith in their delusions.”

“They are delusional,” Caitlyn admitted, tapping her screen. “Which works in our favor. We don’t have to confirm anything right away—just let the speculation build.”

You had to admit, it was a solid strategy. If people thought they had discovered something instead of being spoon-fed a PR stunt, they’d be ten times more invested.

Caitlyn continued, “After that, we move to casual sightings. A dinner here, an event there. Then, we start appearing together—smiling, interacting, making it look natural.”

You smirked. “And then what? Hand-holding? Gazing longingly into each other’s eyes?”

Caitlyn barely reacted. “If it comes to that.”

You blinked, caught slightly off guard. She was really taking this seriously. You studied her for a moment. The way she sat stiff and composed, the way her fingers tapped once—just once—against her phone before stilling.

You weren’t sure if she was trying to convince you or herself.

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head. “Alright. I’ll play along. But if I have to pretend to be madly in love with you, I need something in return.”

Caitlyn sighed, already exasperated. “What now?” You grinned. “I get to post at least one chaotic tweet about you.”

She deadpanned. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh, come on. One tweet. A little ‘thinking about my girlfriend 🖤✨’ moment.”

She shot you a glare. “Do I look like I use emojis?”

You snickered. “Okay, fine. No emojis. But I will be saying something unhinged.” Caitlyn exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. “…One. And I get to approve it first.” You extended your hand across the table, grinning. “Deal.”

She eyed your hand like it was an inconvenience before finally shaking it. The warmth of her fingers against yours was brief, fleeting. But it was enough to make you realize something. You were really doing this.

And soon, the whole world would believe it.

And soon, the whole world would believe it.  If there was one thing the internet did best, it was losing its mind over blurry, low-quality photos. You knew this. Caitlyn knew this. Her team knew this.

Which is why the first leak was designed to be just that—grainy, unclear, and infuriatingly vague.

It was taken the night before, when you and Caitlyn had been strategically placed at an upscale restaurant with just enough of a view for prying eyes. The table was tucked into a semi-private corner, but not too private. You were both dressed well—Caitlyn in a sleek, expensive blazer and you in something that screamed I don’t care, but I still look good.

A perfect storm.

And now?

Now, Twitter was in shambles.

@ popculturetakedown

🚨BREAKING: CAITLYN KIRAMMAN SPOTTED ON A DATE WITH [Y/N] [L/N]???!?!?🚨

A fan captured these photos of Caitlyn & [Y/N] last night at a private dinner 👀 Sources say the two looked “very comfortable” with each other. Could this be our new fave couple?!

[Attached: Three blurry, zoomed-in photos of you and Caitlyn, one where she’s leaning in slightly, another where you’re smirking at her, and the last where her hand is almost brushing yours on the table.]

💬 18.7K comments 🔁 55K retweets ❤️ 210K likes

—

@ user83723

WHAT DO YOU MEAN CAITLYN AND [Y/N] WERE ON A DATE?????

@ caitlynsbabe

I CAN’T BREATHE I CAN’T BREATHE I CAN’T BREATHE

@ altgirldreamz

There’s no way. NO. WAY. Caitlyn Kiramman and [Y/N] [L/N] in the same room? Flirting?? This is the most cursed AND blessed timeline.

@ y/nslays

WHO LET THIS HAPPEN LMAOOOOO THIS IS SENDING ME

@ insiderupdates

This could be Caitlyn’s first public relationship in years 👀 and of all people… [Y/N]??? What do we think??

You scrolled through the chaos, half-amused, half-impressed. It had barely been twenty minutes since the pictures hit the internet, and people were already acting like it was the apocalypse.

Across from you, Caitlyn sat stiffly in the black SUV her team had sent to pick you up. She was scrolling too, her expression unreadable as she took in the responses.

“Looks like they took the bait,” you mused, locking your phone. “Was it everything you hoped for?”

Caitlyn exhaled, setting her own phone aside. “It’s… effective.”

You grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

She shot you a side glance. “Try not to let it get to your head.”

You placed a hand over your chest, mock-offended. “Me? Never.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response. Instead, she adjusted the cuff of her sleeve, voice calm but firm. “The next step is to be seen together. Publicly.”

You raised a brow. “Oh? So we’re jumping straight to the first ‘accidental’ public date?”

Caitlyn nodded. “Something casual. Enough to be believable.”

You hummed, considering. “And by ‘casual’ you mean…?”

She didn’t hesitate. “An afternoon coffee run. Simple. Easy to stage.” You scoffed. “Wow, Caitlyn. A coffee run? Real riveting romance. Next thing you know, we’ll be holding hands at the farmer’s market.”

She ignored your sarcasm. “It needs to feel natural.” You sighed, stretching your legs out in the car. “Fine, coffee it is.” You glanced at her, smirking. “But we should probably start thinking about the bigger moments, don’t you think?” Caitlyn gave you a wary look. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know.” You tapped your chin. “Hand-holding, late-night walks, kissing…” Her shoulders tensed slightly—barely noticeable, but you caught it. You grinned. “Relax, princess. I’m just saying—we need to figure out when the first big ‘public’ kiss should happen.” Caitlyn exhaled slowly, collecting herself. “Not yet.” You tilted your head. “Scared?” Her gaze flickered to you, sharp. “No. I just prefer to plan things properly.” You smirked. “So you are thinking about it.”

Caitlyn didn’t answer right away. Instead, she glanced out the window, voice even. “If we do it too soon, it’ll seem forced. If we wait too long, it’ll feel like we’re avoiding it. We need the right moment.”

You watched her for a beat, intrigued. “And what does ‘the right moment’ look like to you?”

She turned back to you, meeting your gaze. “Something… impactful.”

For a second, the air between you felt different. Then Caitlyn looked away, checking her phone again. “For now, let’s focus on tomorrow’s outing.” You exhaled, amused. “Fine. But you better be ready, sweetheart.”Caitlyn didn’t look up. “For what?” You grinned. “For the world to start believing we’re madly in love.”

And with the way things were going, you almost started to wonder—

Would you be able to tell when the fake parts ended and the real ones began?

_

For a fake date, it felt insultingly real. The plan was simple: You and Caitlyn would “accidentally” be spotted getting coffee together, looking just friendly enough to spark more rumors but not confirm anything outright. It was textbook PR manipulation—organic in execution, manufactured in intent.

But what you hadn’t expected was how easy it was to fall into the role.

Caitlyn was already waiting when you arrived at the café, effortlessly poised in a navy trench coat, long legs crossed at the ankles. A pair of sunglasses sat perched on her nose, but they did nothing to hide who she was. People were already staring, phones not-so-subtly being raised. You sighed, rolling your shoulders before slipping into character.

Showtime.

“Hope you didn’t wait too long, sweetheart,” you greeted, trying to sound cool as you slid into the seat across from her. Unfortunately, the chair had wheels, so instead of sitting like a normal human, you rolled back a whole two feet.

Caitlyn blinked at you. Slowly. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Just naturally gifted at ruining my own life.” You awkwardly scooted yourself back to the table.

Caitlyn exhaled like she was reconsidering every decision that led her to this moment. “You remember the plan?” “Oh, absolutely.” You nodded. “Step one: Look incredibly hot.”

Caitlyn gave you a blank stare.

You cleared your throat. “Step two: Act natural, do subtle things that make people wonder. Step three: Profit.”

“Not exactly how I’d phrase it,” Caitlyn muttered, lifting her coffee to her lips. “But… acceptable.”

You grinned, leaning forward on your elbows. “And what if I decide to go off script?”

You grinned. “You’re no fun, Kiramman.”

She sipped her coffee, unaffected. “I’m efficient.”

Before you could respond, a movement from the sidewalk caught your eye. Two, maybe three people had stopped outside, their phones definitely angled toward your table.

Perfect.

You exhaled, stretching slightly before reaching for the extra cup Caitlyn had ordered for you. As you did, your fingers grazed hers—just barely, just long enough for the cameras to capture.

Caitlyn didn’t flinch. If anything, she played along, tilting her head in a way that made it look like she was watching you fondly.

You took a sip of your coffee, trying to look normal, and promptly burned your tongue so hard you almost screamed.

Caitlyn noticed.

Her lips twitched. Like she was fighting a smile.

You swallowed your pride (and the pain) before flashing a pained smirk. “Delicious.”

Caitlyn let out a short, amused exhale. “This is the most painful thing I’ve ever witnessed.” “Oh, just wait until you see me try to flirt properly.” Her gaze sharpened. “Please don’t.” You opened your mouth to respond, but then—flash. Flash. Flash.

Paparazzi had arrived.

You quickly shifted into “believable fake girlfriend” mode, resting your hand lightly on Caitlyn’s forearm. Just a touch. Just a hint of intimacy. Caitlyn barely reacted, but her gaze flicked down to your hand, then back up to meet your eyes. You cleared your throat. “For the cameras.”

Caitlyn arched a brow. “Right.”

Another flash.

You leaned in a fraction closer. “Okay, now maybe laugh at something I said.” “I haven’t laughed at anything you’ve said in the entire time I’ve known you.”

“Well, now’s a great time to start!”

Caitlyn sighed, looking off to the side like she was regretting everything. But after a moment, she let out a soft chuckle—one of those elegant, practiced laughs that sounded like it belonged in a goddamn perfume commercial. You stared at her, a little dazed. “Okay, not gonna lie… That was kind of hot.”

Caitlyn sipped her coffee, completely unbothered. “I know.” And just like that, the moment was over. Caitlyn set down her drink. “That’s enough for today.” You pouted. “Aw. And here I thought we were just getting started.” She shot you a look before gracefully rising from her seat. You scrambled to follow, nearly tripping over absolutely nothing in the process.

“Walk me to my car?” she murmured low enough for only you to hear.

You smirked. “Why, Kiramman… I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

Caitlyn ignored you, already moving.

And as you opened the door for her—because of course you did—you caught the way she hesitated for half a second before sliding inside.

You smirked, shutting the door behind her.

This game was getting very interesting.

TWITTER REACTIONS:

@ celebrityupdates

🚨 Caitlyn Kiramman & [Y/N] [L/N] were spotted on a coffee date today, and we have thoughts. 🚨

[Attached: HQ photos of Caitlyn & [Y/N] looking effortlessly stunning at an outdoor café, subtle touches & stolen glances included.]

💬 24K comments 🔁 78K retweets ❤️ 310K likes

@ user930482

THE WAY THEY’RE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER??? THIS IS REAL I KNOW IT IN MY SOUL

@ y/n’sfanclub

I can’t believe [Y/N] pulled Caitlyn Kiramman. Like HOW????

@ popculturetheories Hot take: This is too perfect. It’s giving staged.

@ caitlynsnation

IDK IDK IDK this is either PR or the slowest burn romance ever and I’m here for it either way

@ altgirlsupremacy

If this is PR I don’t care. They’re hot. Keep it going.

____

Caitlyn’s phone was blowing up by the time she got back to her hotel.

She sighed, tossing it onto the couch before rubbing her temples.

This was going to get out of hand fast.

And yet…

Her mind kept drifting back to the way your fingers had lingered just a second longer than necessary.

Caitlyn exhaled, shaking the thought away. It was nothing.

Strictly business.

Nothing more.

Right?

___

Caitlyn wasn’t sure why she invited you to her hotel suite.

It was just practical, really. The paparazzi had been relentless since the café stunt, and her PR team wanted you both to “strategize” before your next public appearance. 

So, here you were, sitting cross-legged on her expensive leather couch, scrolling through your phone while eating grapes from the fruit platter she hadn’t even touched.

“You know,” you mused, popping another grape into your mouth. “For a fake girlfriend, you don’t spoil me nearly enough.”

Caitlyn exhaled through her nose. “I bought your coffee.”

“And yet,” you sighed dramatically, draping yourself across the couch like a Victorian widow, “my heart longs for more.”

Caitlyn did not smile. She absolutely did not. “You are insufferable.”

“You love it.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response.

Instead, she shifted in her chair, folding one leg over the other, and picked up her tablet. “The event is in two days. We need to discuss logistics.”

“You mean rules?” You leaned forward, resting your chin on your hand. “Go on, boss me around.”

Caitlyn gave you a long, unimpressed look before swiping to her notes. “Firstly, we’ll arrive together in the same car. Minimal physical contact upon arrival, but once we’re on the carpet, we have to look comfortable together. That means no flinching when I touch you.”

“I flinched one time.”

“You flinched three times,” Caitlyn corrected. “Once when I put my hand on your back, once when I brushed your arm, and once when I—” She stopped.

You smirked. “When you what?”

Caitlyn clicked her tongue. “Never mind. Just… act natural.”

You bit your lip, like you were holding back another comment, but thankfully, you let it slide. “Got it. What else?”

Caitlyn swiped again. “We’ll have to pose for photos. A lot of them. Close proximity is expected. Hand on my waist, my hand on yours—”

“—tender gazes into your breathtakingly beautiful eyes—”

She shot you a look.

You grinned. “Sorry, continue.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes and ignored the sudden heat in her ears. “Lastly, and this is important, no kissing.”

That actually made you pause. “Wait—was that ever an option?”

Caitlyn’s expression didn’t waver. “It’s not.”

You studied her for a moment, like you were trying to gauge something. “Huh. Didn’t realize you’d be so strict about that.”

Strict.

Caitlyn schooled her features, but something about the way you said it bothered her.

She wasn’t strict. This was a professional arrangement. It had nothing to do with the way her pulse had stuttered for half a second when you casually touched her arm earlier. Or the way she’d caught herself staring at your mouth when you laughed at one of your own dumb jokes.

No.

That wasn’t part of this.

Caitlyn straightened her back. “It would complicate things.”

You hummed, leaning back against the couch. “Fair enough.”

A silence settled between you. Not awkward, just… lingering.

Caitlyn glanced at you, about to shift the conversation back to business, but then—

She caught it.

That tiny, sleepy smile you had as you looked at your phone, completely at ease in her space. The way your fingers absently played with the hem of your shirt. The soft glow of the lamp casting warm shadows along your cheekbones.

Something in her chest tightened.

It was nothing.

Except it wasn’t.

Because suddenly, the idea of pretending to be with you didn’t seem so hard.

And that realization?

That was dangerous.

___

The Next day, Caitlyn invited you to dinner.

It wasn’t technically a date. Just a controlled environment where you could practice “looking in love” without a million cameras flashing in your face. At least, that’s what Caitlyn told herself when she made the reservation at an upscale, very private restaurant.

You, of course, had other thoughts.

“So, what, are you wooing me now?” you teased, leaning back against the booth and glancing around at the dim lighting, the flickering candles, and the smooth, quiet jazz playing in the background. “Because I gotta say, this is a strong effort.”

Caitlyn didn’t even look up from the menu. “You like to hear yourself talk, don’t you?”

“Oh, constantly.” You rested your chin on your hand. “But seriously, this is very romantic for a business meeting.”

Caitlyn exhaled slowly. “I thought you’d appreciate the privacy.”

“Oh, I do.” You smirked. “It just makes me wonder… do you want to be alone with me, Caitlyn?”

She held your gaze, unimpressed. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late.”

Caitlyn shook her head and turned back to the menu, refusing to let you get under her skin. You had a habit of poking at cracks she didn’t even know she had.

A few minutes passed in silence—comfortable, surprisingly—before you leaned forward, mischief dancing in your eyes.

“You know,” you mused, plucking a piece of bread from the basket between you, “if we really want to sell this, we should probably know each other better.”

Caitlyn raised a brow. “We know enough.”

You snorted. “Do we? Because I can tell you right now, if some interviewer asks me what your favorite color is, I’m guessing.”

“…It’s navy blue.”

“See? I was gonna say beige.”

Caitlyn gave you a look. “Beige?”

“You just seem like the type.” You shrugged. “Anyway, let’s play a game.”

Caitlyn sighed. “I don’t play games.”

“You’re literally in one right now.”

She blinked. “…Fair point.” You grinned. “Okay, I’ll start. My biggest fear?” You paused for dramatic effect. “Public speaking.” Caitlyn tilted her head. “You perform in front of thousands of people for a living.” “Yeah, but that’s different. Singing, I can do. Standing on a stage and giving a speech?” You shuddered. “Horrifying.”

Caitlyn actually smiled at that. “Noted.” “Your turn.” You gestured at her with the bread. “What’s your biggest fear?” Caitlyn hesitated.

She could’ve said failure or disappointing people, but that felt too honest for a conversation over overpriced appetizers. Instead, she went with—

“Spiders.” Your eyes widened. “No way. Caitlyn Kiramman, the untouchable pop princess, is afraid of spiders?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s irrational, I know.” “No, no, this is amazing.” You grinned. “Imagine—your next scandal: Caitlyn Kiramman Screams at Tiny Spider in Five-Star Hotel, Security Called for Backup.” She gave you a deadpan look. “I regret sharing this already.”

“Oh, you love it.”

Caitlyn did not love it. Except, maybe, she kind of did. The conversation flowed effortlessly from there. You bounced from topic to topic, dragging her into small debates about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (it does, apparently, according to you), what the best movie genre was (you were shocked she liked horror), and whether dogs or cats were superior (you both landed on dogs, though you admitted cats were “cool little guys”).

At some point, Caitlyn found herself just… watching you.

You were effortlessly charismatic, expressive, and so unfiltered in a way that was utterly foreign to her. You didn’t calculate every word before speaking, didn’t hold yourself to an impossible standard of perfection. You just existed, and somehow, people—including Caitlyn—were drawn to you.

It was… frustrating.

And unfair.

And dangerous.

You caught her staring.

“What?”

Caitlyn blinked. “Nothing.”

But something had shifted. A line had been crossed, a moment slipped past without permission.

And the worst part?

Caitlyn didn’t hate it.

___

The ride back to Caitlyn’s hotel was quiet.

For once, you weren’t filling the silence.

Caitlyn glanced at you from the corner of her eye. Your head was tilted back against the seat, eyes half-lidded, hands resting loosely in your lap.

“You’re quiet,” Caitlyn noted.

You hummed. “That happens sometimes.”

She raised a brow. “Does it?”

You turned your head toward her, smiling lazily. “You wouldn’t know. We haven’t known each other that long.”

Something about that sentence made Caitlyn pause.

Because it was true.

She didn’t know you. Not really.

But in the span of just a few days, you’d already started lodging yourself into the space between professional and personal, and Caitlyn had no idea what to do about it.

You shifted, turning fully toward her. “Can I ask you something?”

Caitlyn hesitated, then nodded.

“What do you actually think of me?” Caitlyn’s lips parted slightly. The question caught her off guard—not because it was out of place, but because she didn’t have a quick answer. You weren’t what she expected. You weren’t quiet or obedient or easy to ignore. You challenged her. Pushed her. Got under her skin in ways no one else had dared to.

And now?

Now she was thinking about you too much. Caitlyn exhaled, schooling her expression. “I think you talk too much.” You smirked, unconvinced. “And?”

“…And you’re not as insufferable as I originally thought.”

Your smirk grew into a full grin. “See? Progress.” Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance behind it.

You let out a satisfied sigh and leaned back against the seat again. “Well, for the record…” You turned your head slightly, your voice softer now. “You’re not as uptight as I thought, either.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond.

She didn’t know how to. Because for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t sure if she was playing a role or actually feeling something real.

And that?

That was a problem.

___

It was almost 1 AM when your phone buzzed. At first, you ignored it, assuming it was some random notification, but then it buzzed again. And again.Grumbling, you fumbled for your phone on the bedside table, barely cracking an eye open.

Caitlyn: Are you awake?

Caitlyn: Actually, that’s a stupid question. You don’t sleep at normal hours, do you?Caitlyn: Never mind. Forget I said anything.

You squinted at the messages, brain still half-asleep, before quickly typing a response.

You: so u woke me up just to tell me to forget u said anything?

Caitlyn: You were NOT asleep.You: what if i was

Caitlyn: Then I’d say that’s shocking because I swear you live off of pure chaos and caffeine.

You snorted, rolling onto your back and rubbing a hand over your face.

You: rude.

Caitlyn: Honest.

A beat passed. The messages stopped.

Normally, Caitlyn was the type to send exactly what she wanted to say and then put her phone down immediately. But something about the way she texted tonight—hesitant, indirect—felt off.

You frowned, your exhaustion fading slightly.

You: whats up?

Caitlyn: Nothing.

You: ur lying.

Caitlyn: I don’t lie.You: now THAT is a lie.

There was a long pause.

Then—

Caitlyn: …Do you ever feel like you’re playing a role for so long that you don’t know who you actually are anymore?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

That was not what you expected.

For a moment, you weren’t sure how to respond.

Caitlyn didn’t usually let anything slip. She was composed, calculated, always saying the right thing at the right time. But this? This felt unguarded.

You hesitated, then typed:

You: yeah. yeah, i do.

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Caitlyn: How do you deal with it?

You thought about it. Really thought about it. There was no easy answer. Being famous meant always being watched. Always being judged, always being expected to live up to an image that sometimes didn’t feel like you at all. You sighed, typing slowly.

You: i do dumb shit so i remember i’m a real person

Caitlyn: Dumb shit?

You: yeah like idk. dancing alone in my kitchen at 3 am. walking into a store and buying the ugliest shirt i can find just to own it. making stupid faces at myself in the mirror

Caitlyn: That sounds ridiculous.

You: thats the point.

Another pause.

Then—

Caitlyn: …What’s the ugliest shirt you own?

You grinned.

You: oh babe. ur not ready for this.

And with that, you sent her a truly awful photo of the neon green, rhinestone-studded, bedazzled nightmare of a T-shirt you bought on a dare.

For a second, Caitlyn didn’t respond. Then—

Caitlyn: I feel personally offended by this.

You: good.

Caitlyn: I suddenly regret texting you.You: no u don’t.

A minute passed. Then two. You weren’t sure if the conversation was over, but something about the night felt different now. Softer. Warmer. Then, finally—

Caitlyn: Thank you.

And maybe it was just text. Maybe it was just a small moment in the grand scheme of things. But it felt real.

___

“Alright, listen up, you two,” Riley, your manager, said, clicking her pen against the clipboard in front of her. “This is your first joint interview since the announcement, which means we need to sell it.”

You were slouched in one of the sleek leather chairs of the green room, arms crossed, fighting the overwhelming urge to roll your eyes. Across from you, Caitlyn sat perfectly upright, looking like she was actually paying attention. Of course she was. “I assume by ‘sell it,’ you mean we just sit there and look pretty?” you quipped, stretching your legs out under the table.

Riley gave you a flat look. “No. I mean you act like a real couple.”

Caitlyn sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “And what exactly does that entail?”

Riley turned her tablet around, showing an alarming number of social media posts. “Right now, the internet is obsessed with this relationship. They’re analyzing every glance, every touch, every word. Some think it’s fake, others are fully convinced you’re soulmates. Our job is to keep them guessing.”

You sat up slightly, peering at the screen. One of the tweets read:

@ y/n’sbiggestfan okay but the way [Y/N] looks at Caitlyn like she hung the stars in the sky???? that’s REAL. that’s LOVE. don’t talk to me.

You smirked. “See? I’m nailing this already.”

Riley ignored you. “This is The Tonight Show. Jimmy Fallon is going to ask you about your relationship. He’s going to joke about it. He’s going to show embarrassing photos, and you’re going to react like two people madly in love.” You grinned, turning to Caitlyn. “Did you hear that, babe? We need inside jokes.” Caitlyn’s expression remained blank. “I have none with you.” “Ouch.” You placed a hand over your heart. “That physically hurt me.”

Riley sighed. “Just… make it look natural. If he asks about how you got together, tell the usual story. And for the love of everything, please don’t do anything that will make my job harder.”

You leaned back in your chair, flashing a lazy grin. “No promises.”

_

The Tonight Show studio was packed, the crowd buzzing with excitement as Jimmy Fallon introduced you and Caitlyn.

“So, we have the hottest couple of the year with us tonight—please welcome, [Y/N] and Caitlyn Kiramman!”

The applause was deafening as you strutted onto the stage, throwing up a peace sign, while Caitlyn followed with her usual composed elegance. You both slid onto the couch beside Jimmy’s desk, the host already grinning like he was about to cause problems.

“Okay, first of all,” Jimmy started, barely containing his excitement, “I gotta ask—how’s it been since you guys went public? Because the internet lost its mind.”Caitlyn, ever the professional, answered smoothly. “It’s been… unexpected, but I think we just understand each other in a way neither of us anticipated.” You glanced at her, raising a brow. That was a surprisingly non-robotic answer from her.

Jimmy turned to you. “What about you, [Y/N]? What drew you to Caitlyn?”

A slow, smug grin spread across your face. Oh, you could definitely have fun with this.

“Oh, she’s so charming,” you said dramatically, resting your chin on your hand. “It was impossible not to fall for her. She looks at you with those piercing blue eyes, and suddenly, you forget how to function.”

Beside you, Caitlyn stiffened almost imperceptibly.

You smirked and leaned in slightly. “And don’t even get me started on that voice of hers—low, refined, just the right amount of commanding.” You let your gaze drop to her lips for just a fraction of a second before looking back up. “Makes a person weak, you know?”

The audience erupted into laughter and whoops, eating up every second of your little performance.

Caitlyn, on the other hand, was gripping the armrest like it had personally offended her.

Jimmy grinned. “Caitlyn, [Y/N] is quite the flirt. How do you keep up?” Caitlyn finally turned to you, her expression unreadable, though you swore you saw something flicker in her eyes. “I don’t,” she admitted, exhaling quietly. “I’ve learned that trying to match their energy is… a losing battle.”

You placed a hand over your heart, pretending to be touched. “She admits defeat. How romantic.”

Caitlyn shot you a warning look, but there was a telltale hint of pink dusting her cheeks.

Oh.

Oh, this was dangerous.

Jimmy laughed. “Okay, okay, last thing—every couple has fights. How do you two handle disagreements?”You barely had time to think before Caitlyn responded with a smooth, “We’re both very different people, but at the end of the day, we—”

“I flirt my way out of them,” you cut in, grinning.

The audience roared with laughter, and Caitlyn let out a slow, suffering sigh. The interview continued like that—questions, answers, and you throwing in just enough teasing to keep Caitlyn flustered but not enough to make her strangle you on live television.

By the time it ended, Caitlyn was still maintaining her calm, collected exterior, but you knew better.

As soon as you were off-stage, walking side by side down a quiet hallway, you leaned in slightly. “You were blushing back there.”

“I was not,” Caitlyn replied without looking at you.

You grinned. “You so were.”

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing her temple. “I despise you.”

“You adore me,” you corrected, flashing her a wink.

For once, Caitlyn didn’t have a response.

_

By the time the show wrapped up and you finally escaped the chaos, you were more than ready to go home and collapse onto your couch. Maybe drown yourself in takeout and ignore your phone for a few hours.

But, of course, that wasn’t in the cards.

Because Caitlyn, ever the picture of poise and restraint, had disappeared into a side hallway, and you had the distinct, nagging feeling that you should follow.

You found her standing by a window, arms crossed, staring out at the skyline like she was in some dramatic movie scene.

You leaned against the doorway. “You know, if you’re trying to look brooding and mysterious, you’re nailing it.”

Caitlyn didn’t turn to face you, but you saw the slight upward twitch of her lips. “Was I convincing?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“On the show,” she clarified. “Did I seem… believable?”

You scoffed, walking over to stand beside her. “Believable? Caitlyn, people online are already making wedding edits of us. I think we overshot ‘believable’ by a mile.”

She hummed, thoughtful. “That’s… good, then.”

You studied her profile—sharp jawline, calm expression, but something distant in her eyes.

“Why do you ask?” you said, tilting your head.

“Because sometimes, I think I forget.”

Your stomach did something weird. Something annoying.

“Forget what?” you asked, even though you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.

She hesitated. Just for a second. Then, she straightened, her expression smoothing back into the Caitlyn Kiramman that the world knew. “Never mind,” she said lightly, stepping past you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You stood there, unmoving, as her words settled over you.

Forget what?

And why did it feel like you almost understood?

_

TWITTER REACTIONS:

@ pressjunkie Caitlyn and [Y/N] are literally couple goals. You can FEEL the love.

@ y/nupdates Did you see the way Caitlyn looked at [Y/N]?? That’s ROMANCE.

@ theoriesonline They’re so in love, I’m gonna lose my mind.

@ caitlynsupremacy If this is fake, then so is love. And I refuse to believe that

_

You lay sprawled across your couch, limbs tangled in the blanket you had pulled over yourself hours ago, phone held above your face as you scrolled through Twitter. The soft glow of the screen illuminated your expression—somewhere between amusement and disbelief—as your notifications flooded in at an overwhelming speed.

The Tonight Show interview had aired barely an hour ago, and already, social media was in full meltdown mode.

Your timeline was a mess of screaming, gifs, and fan edits appearing at a rate too fast to keep up with. Every scroll brought new tweets, some of them dangerously close to making you question reality.

@ y/nnation THE WAY SHE LOOKED AT HER. THE WAY SHE LOOKED AT HER. I CAN’T BREATHE.

Attached was a screenshot of Caitlyn mid-interview, her piercing blue gaze locked onto you. There was something in her eyes—something unreadable, something dangerous.

You swallowed and kept scrolling.

@ caitlynsupremacy Y/N FLIRTING HER WAY THROUGH THE INTERVIEW AND CAITLYN LOSING IT SOMEONE HOLD ME.

A clip played underneath, catching one of your more shameless moments:

"Oh, she’s so charming. It was impossible not to fall for her. She looks at you with those piercing blue eyes, and suddenly, you forget how to function."

The audience’s laughter. Caitlyn’s stiffened posture. The way her fingers tightened around her water glass.

You smirked to yourself. That had been a great moment.

Another ping.

Your best friend had texted.

Bestie: DUDE. THEY’RE WRITING FANFICS ABOUT YOU TWO ALREADY.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your stomach and rubbing your hands over your face. Of course they were. Fans were ravenous when it came to celebrity couples, and you and Caitlyn had just handed them the juiciest material imaginable.

Still, curiosity got the better of you.

You picked up your phone again, hesitated for half a second, then typed Caitlyn x Y/N into the search bar.

The results? Pure chaos.

@ theoriesonline The way Y/N kept glancing at Caitlyn’s lips??? Be so real right now.

@ gaysforcaitlyn "Y/N flirting their way out of arguments" I JUST KNOW CAITLYN SECRETLY LOVES IT.

@ deluluupdates TS CRAZYYY. WATCH THEM GET MARRIED TOMORROW.

You snorted. That wasn’t happening.

Probably.

Before you could stop yourself, you clicked on a fan edit.

Soft music. Slow-motion clips of you and Caitlyn throughout the interview. The way you leaned toward her. The way she looked at you when she thought no one was paying attention. The way your fingers almost brushed when you reached for your water at the same time.

The caption?

"Even if they don’t say it, you can see it in their eyes."

You blinked at the screen. A weird, unfamiliar feeling settled in your chest, but you shoved it down quickly.

Your phone buzzed again—another text. This time, from Caitlyn.

Caitlyn: Are you seeing all of this?

You hesitated before responding.

You: Oh, you mean our fans planning our wedding? Yeah, just a casual Tuesday night.

Caitlyn: …I was referring to the fact that some people think we’re too perfect. Like we rehearsed everything.

You: Are you suggesting we don’t have natural chemistry? I’m hurt, truly.

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Caitlyn: That’s not what I meant. I just think we need to be more… spontaneous. If we’re too perfect, people might start questioning it.

You smirked, already typing back.

You: So, what? You want us to get caught in some scandal? Maybe we should “accidentally” leak some private texts. Something like “thinking about you ;)"—very spicy, very real.

Caitlyn: Absolutely not.

You: You’re no fun.

Caitlyn didn’t respond immediately, so you went back to scrolling. But before you could get too far, another message popped up.

Caitlyn: Are you tomorrow? We should be seen together. Maybe somewhere casual, no cameras. Just in case people think we’re only affectionate in public.

Your stomach did something weird at that. You ignored it.

You: You’re asking me out on a date? Caitlyn: If that’s what you want to call it.

You sat up, grin tugging at your lips. This was going to be interesting.

The typing bubbles appeared. Stopped. Appeared again.

Then—

Caitlyn: You were ridiculous on the show, you know.

You grinned.

You: And yet, you blushed.

Read. No reply.

You had her. You so had her.

Just as you were about to put your phone down, it buzzed again.

Caitlyn: For the record, I did not blush.

You: Oh? So if I search "Caitlyn Kiramman Tonight Show blush" on Twitter, I won’t find anything?

She left you on read again.

You laughed to yourself, shaking your head, but then another thought hit you.

This was supposed to be just PR. Just an image to maintain.

So why did it feel like something more?

___

Later that night, you met Caitlyn at a quiet café downtown, one that wasn’t swarmed with paparazzi or overrun with fans. It was strange—this was the first time you were out together without an audience.

Caitlyn was already seated at a corner booth when you arrived, her usual composed self, though her fingers tapped idly against her cup.

“You’re nervous,” you teased, sliding into the seat across from her.

Caitlyn scoffed, lifting an eyebrow. “I don’t get nervous.”

“Right. And I’m a model of self-restraint.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, she took a sip of her coffee, studying you over the rim.

“So,” you drawled, stirring your drink absentmindedly. “If we don’t have to perform, what do we even talk about?”

Caitlyn hesitated, then set her cup down. “I suppose… we could get to know each other. Properly this time.”

You blinked. You weren’t expecting that.

You leaned forward, chin resting on your hand. “Alright, then. What’s something nobody knows about Caitlyn Kiramman?”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “That’s an unfair question. My entire life is online.”

“Exactly. So tell me something real.”

Caitlyn was quiet for a moment, considering. Then, finally, she said, “I don’t like champagne.”

You stared. “That’s it? That’s your big secret?”

She shrugged, a tiny smirk playing at her lips. “You asked for something nobody knows. Everyone assumes I love it, but I hate the taste.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I feel like you’re holding out on me.”

“Maybe.”

The conversation flowed surprisingly easily after that—soft jabs, little confessions, Caitlyn rolling her eyes every time you made an outrageous claim. It felt… natural. Like this wasn’t just an act.

Which was dangerous.

Because when she smiled at you—not the carefully controlled one she used in interviews, but a real, amused, genuine smile—something in your chest tightened.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, you felt an inkling of fear.

What if this wasn’t just a game anymore?

What if, somewhere along the way, you actually started to believe it?

Caitlyn walked you back to your car after the café, her hands tucked into the pockets of her coat. The air was crisp, the streetlights casting a soft glow over the sidewalk. It should’ve been just another night—just another outing to maintain the illusion.

And yet, something about the night sat heavy in your chest.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Caitlyn said, stopping a few feet away from your car.

You hesitated. “You know, for a fake relationship, this is starting to feel suspiciously real.”

She smirked, tilting her head. “Maybe we’re just good at what we do.”

The way she said it—so casual, so confident—rubbed you the wrong way. You didn’t know why.

You shifted your weight. “Yeah. Right.”

Caitlyn’s gaze flickered over your face, something unreadable in her expression. She hesitated, then reached up, adjusting the collar of your jacket—an action so small, so intimate, that your breath caught.

Then she stepped back. “Get home safe.”

You barely managed to nod before slipping into your car, shutting the door a little too fast.

You sat there for a moment, staring at your steering wheel.

This was bad.

This was really bad.

Later that night, you were once again scrolling through Twitter, but this time, your mind wasn’t on the edits or the conspiracies. It was on her.

On the way her fingers had lingered when she fixed your collar. On the way she’d looked at you. On the way your heart had nearly betrayed you right then and there.

You shut your phone off and threw it onto your bed, groaning. “No. Nope. Not happening.”

You weren’t catching feelings for Caitlyn Kiramman. You refused.

Except…

Your brain replayed everything—every touch, every moment where the line between fake and real had blurred just a little too much. You were so screwed.

_

The next morning, you arrived at Caitlyn’s place for another staged event—some kind of “impromptu” paparazzi run-in.

When she opened the door, she looked too good, wearing a fitted sweater and jeans, hair effortlessly styled. You hated that you noticed.

“You’re staring,” she said, smirking. You scoffed. “I was actually just wondering how someone can be so insufferable this early in the morning.” She hummed, stepping aside to let you in. “Come on. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can go back to pretending I don’t exist.”

The words shouldn’t have made your stomach twist. But they did. The paparazzi caught you leaving her apartment an hour later, her hand resting on your lower back as she guided you to the car.

You played your part well. You smiled, leaned into her touch, whispered something just low enough that the cameras couldn’t pick it up.

To everyone else, you looked like a couple deeply in love.

But inside, you were spiraling.

Because Caitlyn’s touch wasn’t supposed to feel this comforting. And your heart wasn’t supposed to race when she pulled you closer.

And yet, here you were.

Falling.

–

The problem with pretending was that, eventually, you started to believe it.

That was the thought that haunted you as you sat curled up on your couch later that night, staring at your phone like it held all the answers.

Your latest post—a simple photo of you and Caitlyn laughing together as you left her apartment—was blowing up. The internet was obsessed.

@ ynstan THEY LOOK SO IN LOVE PLEASE I CAN’T TAKE IT 😭💍

@ caitlynsimp That little whisper. The way [Y/N] leaned into her touch. It’s giving soulmates.

@ softforcaitlyn If this is fake, then so is gravity. Sorry, I don’t make the rules.

You groaned, rubbing your hands over your face. The world believed this romance was real. Every time you checked your notifications, there were thousands of fans analyzing every glance, every touch.

And the worst part? You weren’t sure they were wrong.

A sharp knock at your door snapped you out of your downward spiral.

You frowned, dragging yourself off the couch. When you opened the door, Caitlyn was standing there, looking just as exhausted as you felt.

“I figured you’d still be awake,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Mind if I drink all your wine?”

You shut the door behind her, raising an eyebrow. “Rough day?”

She sighed, shrugging off her coat. “Apparently, my PR team thinks we should do an interview. A sit-down, deep-dive into our relationship.”

Your stomach twisted. Great. Another opportunity to pretend. Another opportunity to make this worse.

Caitlyn dropped onto your couch, stretching her arms over the back. “You don’t have to say yes. I know these things exhaust you.”

You snorted, walking over to grab two glasses. “And they don’t exhaust you?”

“I’ve had to fake being polite my entire life,” she said dryly. “This is just a different kind of performance.”

You hesitated, pouring the wine. “Do you ever get tired of pretending?”

Something flickered in Caitlyn’s expression, so quick you almost missed it. Then she exhaled, shaking her head. “It’s necessary.” You sat beside her, passing her a glass. “That’s not an answer.” She stared at you for a long moment, then gave a tired smile. “No. It’s not.”

And just like that, you felt that invisible line between you both blur even further.

Because for the first time since this whole thing started, Caitlyn wasn’t performing.

And that scared you more than anything.

You weren’t sure how long the two of you sat there, sipping wine in comfortable silence. It wasn’t unusual for Caitlyn to show up like this, slipping into your space as if she belonged there.

And the worst part? You didn’t mind.

At some point, Caitlyn had stretched her legs across your lap, the casual intimacy of it making your chest feel too tight. She was scrolling through her phone, her face illuminated by the screen’s glow.

Then, suddenly—

“Did you see this?” she asked, tilting the phone toward you.

It was another Twitter post.

@ ynxcait4ever okay but the way [Y/N] touches Caitlyn so naturally??? like they don’t even think about it??? THEY’RE IN LOVE.

Attached was a clip from your most recent outing together, where you had casually placed a hand on Caitlyn’s back as you guided her through a crowd. A touch so small you hadn’t even thought about it.

But now, watching it back? You realized just how real it looked.

Your throat went dry. “Huh.” Caitlyn hummed, taking another sip of her wine. “They’re very observant.” You laughed, but it felt forced. “Or delusional.” Caitlyn smirked. “Possibly both.” Silence settled between you again. But this time, it felt heavier.

Because the problem wasn’t that people believed in this relationship.

The problem was that you were starting to believe in it, too.

—

You weren’t sure what woke you up first—the soft morning light filtering through your curtains or the warmth beside you.

Wait.

You cracked one eye open, blinking against the drowsiness.

Caitlyn was still there.

Somehow, in the haze of late-night conversations and too much wine, the two of you had fallen asleep on the couch. Caitlyn’s arm was draped loosely around your waist, her body curled slightly toward yours.

Your heart stuttered.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

Carefully, you shifted, attempting to untangle yourself from her without waking her up. But the moment you moved, Caitlyn stirred, her brows furrowing.

“Mmh…” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

You froze.

Then, her grip on you tightened, just slightly.

And she mumbled something else.

Something that made your breath catch.

“Don’t go.”

Your entire body went still.

For a long moment, you just sat there, staring at her.

Did she know what she was saying?

Did you?

Your pulse was hammering now, a war waging inside your chest. You knew what this was supposed to be. A PR stunt. An act. A lie.

But this?

This didn’t feel like a lie.

Caitlyn’s breathing evened out again, slipping back into sleep.

And you—against all better judgment—let yourself stay.

Just for a little longer.

Just until you figured out what the hell this all meant.

You told yourself you’d get up soon.

You really needed to get up.

But Caitlyn’s arm was still around your waist, her body warm against yours, and for some godforsaken reason, you just… stayed.

You weren’t sure how long you lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t anything.

And yet—

Caitlyn shifted slightly, pressing her face into your shoulder, and your breath hitched.

Okay. Maybe this was something.

The realization made your stomach twist.

You were playing a dangerous game, toeing a line that wasn’t even visible anymore. This was supposed to be fake, but nothing about this felt fake. Not the warmth of Caitlyn’s body against yours. Not the way your heart stuttered at every little unconscious touch. Not the way you wanted to stay wrapped up in this.

Your fingers twitched at your side, aching to reach out—to pull her closer instead of pulling away.

You were so fucked.

Then, Caitlyn stirred, letting out a sleepy hum before slowly blinking awake.

For a brief second, she just looked at you, her expression soft with sleep and something unreadable.

Then—realization hit.

Her body stiffened slightly. The warmth in her eyes shuttered behind something unreadable, something carefully controlled.

You swallowed. “Morning.”

Caitlyn blinked again, as if she was still processing the fact that the two of you were still tangled together like this. Then, she cleared her throat, slowly untangling herself from you. “Morning,” she murmured.

You missed her warmth the second it was gone.

She sat up, running a hand through her slightly messy hair. “I should… probably go.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

You forced a smirk, trying to shove down whatever the hell you were feeling. “Wow, you’re not even gonna stay for breakfast? Rude.”

Caitlyn let out a small breath of amusement but didn’t take the bait. She was already slipping back into her usual poise, smoothing out her clothes, pushing any vulnerability she might’ve shown back beneath a carefully constructed mask.

That stung more than it should have.

She glanced at you, hesitating for half a second. “…Last night. It—” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “It won’t happen again.”

Your smirk faltered.

Right.

Because this was fake. Because she didn’t feel what you felt.

You ignored the way your chest tightened. “Yeah,” you said lightly, forcing an easy grin. “Of course.”

Caitlyn gave you a small nod before heading toward the door.

You waited until it clicked shut behind her before exhaling sharply, rubbing a hand down your face.

You were so fucked.

The moment she stepped out of your apartment, Caitlyn let out a slow breath, pressing a hand against her chest as if that would do anything to steady the ridiculous pounding of her heart.

What the hell was wrong with her?

She knew the answer.

She just didn’t want to admit it.

Because if she admitted it, then this entire thing—the careful distance she tried to maintain, the lines she kept redrawing—would fall apart completely.

And Caitlyn could not afford to fall for you.

She shook her head, straightened her posture, and walked away.

She just had to pretend this wasn’t happening.

She just had to lie.

–

Scrolling through Twitter was a mistake.

You should’ve known better. You did know better.

And yet, here you were, lying on your couch, staring at your phone as the internet collectively lost its mind over you and Caitlyn.

@ ynxcaitforever Y’ALL. THE WAY THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER. IT’S NOT NORMAL. THIS ISN’T A DRILL.

@ caitlyniswinning What do you mean they were seen leaving a private restaurant together last night?? Oh, this is so real.

@ y/nstan Caitlyn giving [Y/N] her jacket… SHE’S SUCH A GENTLEWOMAN.

You groaned, tossing your phone onto the couch beside you.

The thing was—you should be laughing at this. You should be sending the tweets to Caitlyn with some dumb joke about the internet eating this up.

Instead, your heart was doing something stupid, twisting in your chest in a way that made your stomach turn.

Because the way Caitlyn looked at you did make your breath hitch.

Because the way she touched you did make your skin burn.

Because for a moment last night, tangled up in the warmth of her arms, you let yourself forget that this was a lie.

You let yourself want it to be real.

And that was dangerous.

Your phone buzzed.

Caitlyn: Are you free today?

Your stomach flipped. Pathetic.

You stared at the message, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You could say no. You should say no.

Instead—

You: Yeah. What’s up?

Caitlyn didn’t know why she texted you.

She told herself it was to keep up appearances. That’s what she kept telling herself about everything lately.

But the truth—the truth was far more terrifying.

Because she wanted to see you.

And that was a problem.

Her phone buzzed.

You: Yeah. What’s up?

She exhaled.

Caitlyn: Want to go for a drive?

You: This isn’t some elaborate scheme to kidnap me, is it?

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched.

Caitlyn: Would it make a difference if it was?

A pause. Then—

You: Depends. Are we getting coffee first?

—

You didn’t realize how much you needed fresh air until Caitlyn’s car cut through the open road, city lights fading behind you.

The silence between you was surprisingly comfortable. Music played softly from the speakers, the low hum of the engine filling the spaces between your thoughts.

You glanced at Caitlyn. She was focused on the road, her hands steady on the wheel, her profile illuminated by the glow of the dashboard lights.

Something about her like this—calm, unguarded—made your chest ache.

You turned away, staring out the window. “This is nice.”

Caitlyn hummed. “You sound surprised.”

You smirked. “Well, last time we were alone in a car together, you were threatening to throw me out for making fun of your music taste.”

Caitlyn scoffed, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “That was justified.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Whatever you say, pop star.”

She didn’t argue, just let the music fill the air again.

And then—

“You’ve been quiet today,” she said.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh. Have I?”

Caitlyn gave you a knowing look. “I’ve known you long enough to recognize when something’s on your mind.”

That should’ve been your cue to deflect, to change the subject, to lie.

But sitting here, in the quiet, with Caitlyn next to you…

You sighed. “I was scrolling through Twitter.”

Caitlyn let out a soft laugh. “That’s your first mistake.”

You smiled, but it was weak. “They think this is real.”

Silence.

Caitlyn’s fingers tightened slightly on the wheel.

You exhaled. “Do you ever feel guilty?”

She glanced at you. “For what?”

“For lying.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she wasn’t going to answer.

Then—

“I try not to think about it.” You swallowed. “And does that work?”

A beat of silence.

“No.”

The admission sat heavy between you. Neither of you said anything for a while. Then—Caitlyn let out a slow breath.

“This was supposed to be simple,” she murmured. You turned to her, watching as her expression flickered—like she wasn’t sure if she was saying this to you or herself.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It was.”

Neither of you said the obvious—that it wasn’t anymore.

And maybe it never was. The drive back was quieter. Heavier. You weren’t sure if it was because of the conversation or because of the way Caitlyn was gripping the wheel like she was holding onto something that was slipping away.

You should’ve dropped the topic. You should’ve.

But instead—

“You never answered my question,” you said softly, staring at the passing streetlights.

Caitlyn glanced at you. “Which one?”

You hesitated. “Do you feel guilty?” A muscle in her jaw twitched. “I thought I did.” You turned to look at her, but she kept her eyes on the road. “Thought?” Caitlyn inhaled sharply, exhaling through her nose. “I don’t know if guilt is the right word anymore.” You frowned. “Then what is?”

A pause. A long, heavy pause.

Then—

“Conflicted.”

Your heart skipped.

You weren’t sure what to say to that.

Because the thing was—you felt conflicted too.

But for a completely different reason.

Because this was all supposed to be fake. The lingering touches. The effortless conversations. The way your breath caught when she looked at you like she felt something she shouldn’t.

But now—now, your heart was betraying you.

And you weren’t sure if you were the only one.

Caitlyn pulled into your driveway, shifting the car into park. The engine cut off, leaving only the soft hum of the outside world.

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

It was one of those moments—one of those moments where the air was thick with something neither of you wanted to name.

You turned to her. She was already watching you.

“Caitlyn…”

You weren’t sure what you were going to say.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to say it.

But before you could, she exhaled, breaking eye contact. “You should get some rest.”

It stung.

And you hated that it did.

You forced a small smile. “Right. Yeah.”

You reached for the door handle, pausing.

And maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was stupid.

But you turned back, leaning in just enough to whisper “You know, you really suck at lying.”

Then you were out of the car, closing the door behind you before you could see her reaction. Because if you stayed any longer, you weren’t sure if you’d have the strength to walk away.

—

Caitlyn didn’t move.

She sat there, hands still gripping the wheel, staring at the empty passenger seat like she could still feel the ghost of your presence.

Her heart was hammering.

Because the way you looked at her just now—

Like you knew.

Like you saw through her.

Like you could hear the war raging inside her, the part of her that knew this was all fake—the part of her that was terrified because she wanted it to be real.

She let out a shaky breath, leaning back against the headrest, staring at the roof of the car.

She was screwed.

Because maybe—just maybe—she was starting to fall for you.

And that?

That was dangerous.

You barely slept.

Not because you weren’t tired—you were exhausted. But every time you closed your eyes, your mind kept circling back to Caitlyn. The way she looked at you. The way her voice softened when she admitted she felt conflicted.

You weren’t stupid.

You knew what this was supposed to be. A PR stunt. A mutually beneficial arrangement. Something with an expiration date. But lately, it hadn’t felt like that. Lately, every lingering glance, every touch that lasted too long, every almost had started to mean something.

And that terrified you.

Because if Caitlyn felt the same way—if she was starting to feel the same way— Then what the hell were you supposed to do when this all ended?

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of your phone buzzing against your nightstand.

Your heart lurched when you saw the name.

Caitlyn Kiramman.

For a moment, you just stared at it, thumb hovering over the screen.

Then, before you could overthink it, you answered.

“Hello?”

A pause.

Then—

“Good morning.”

You swallowed. “Hey.”

Another pause.

You swore you could hear her exhale. “I—uh. I was thinking… I mean, we should probably be seen together today.”

Right. Of course. That’s what this was about.

You shouldn’t have expected anything else.

You forced a casual tone. “Right. Yeah. Where were you thinking?”

Caitlyn hesitated. “There’s a cafe in the city. Small, private. We won’t be swarmed there.”

That wasn’t like her. Caitlyn never cared about privacy before. The whole point of this was to be seen.

But maybe that was the problem. Maybe she didn’t want to be seen like this.

Not after last night.

Not after the way things felt like they were teetering on the edge of something neither of you were ready to admit.

Still, you nodded. “Alright. Text me the details.”

“Okay.”

Another silence.

Then, just as you were about to hang up, she said, almost too softly—

“I’ll see you soon.”

And for some reason, it sounded more like a promise than a plan.

The place Caitlyn picked was nice. Warm lighting, soft music, tucked away from the rest of the city’s chaos.

But your mind wasn’t focused on that.

Your mind was on the way Caitlyn looked when she walked in.

Dark jeans, a fitted coat, sleeves pushed up just enough to expose her wrists. A small silver watch glinted under the light.

And her hair—slightly tousled, like she’d run her hands through it a few too many times on the way here.

She looked… good. Unfairly so.

And worse? She looked nervous.

She didn’t get nervous. Not Caitlyn Kiramman.

But today, she sat across from you, fingers curled around a porcelain coffee cup, and refused to meet your eyes.

You swallowed.

“So…” You tried to sound normal, even if your heart was not. “You seemed in a hurry to see me.”

Caitlyn huffed a quiet laugh. “Yeah. PR reasons.”

You arched a brow. “PR reasons.”

She finally looked at you. Really looked at you.

And for a second, it was hard to breathe.

Her voice was softer when she spoke again. “Is that all you think this is?”

You blinked.

Your throat was dry.

“Isn’t it?”

A muscle in Caitlyn’s jaw twitched. She set her cup down.

And suddenly, the air shifted.

Like you were both standing on the edge of something dangerous.

You should’ve backed down. You should’ve laughed it off.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you leaned in, just slightly, and whispered—

“You tell me.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched.

For a moment, just a moment, you thought she was going to say it.

Admit it.

Ruin everything.

But instead, she exhaled shakily, leaned back in her seat, and said—

“Finish your coffee.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

But not forgotten.

Not even close.

The rest of the coffee date felt like a game of pretend.

You and Caitlyn talked about things that didn’t matter—weather, upcoming projects, travel schedules—skirting around the elephant in the room. It was like last night and the tension from earlier had never happened.

Or at least, that’s what Caitlyn wanted you to believe.

You weren’t convinced.

Her fingers tapped against her cup too often. Her gaze flickered toward your lips when she thought you weren’t paying attention. And when your knees brushed under the table, she tensed but didn’t move away.

It was subtle, but it was there.

And maybe you were a little bit of a masochist, because you pushed it.

You stirred your drink absentmindedly. “You know, people are gonna think we’re breaking up soon.”

Caitlyn blinked. “What?”

You nodded toward the corner of the cafe. A guy in a hoodie was pretending to read a newspaper, but the camera lens peeking through the pages was obvious.

“You’re being distant. Not holding my hand. No sickening pet names. Tabloids are gonna eat that up.”

Caitlyn’s jaw clenched. “You think I care what the tabloids say?”

You smirked. “You should.”

Then, without warning, you reached across the table and took her hand.

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she just stared.

It was stupid. Your hands had touched before. Paps had caught you tangled up in each other, bodies pressed too close, lips at each other’s ears like lovers whispering sweet nothings.

But this?

This felt more intimate.

More dangerous.

Her fingers twitched under your touch, but she didn’t pull away.

“If you don’t care,” you murmured, tilting your head, “then this shouldn’t bother you.”

Caitlyn’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. Her lips parted, but no words came out.

Checkmate.

She squeezed your hand once, like a silent warning, before letting go.

“Let’s go,” she said, standing up. “We’ve been here long enough.”

—

The air was thick with unspoken words. Caitlyn had been tense since you left the cafe, fingers gripping the wheel a little too tightly. You watched her for a moment, then sighed. “You’re mad.” “I’m not mad,” she said, but the sharpness in her tone suggested otherwise.

“You are mad.”

Caitlyn exhaled sharply. “I just—” She hesitated. “You don’t get it.”

Your brows furrowed. “Then make me get it.”

Silence.

Then, finally, she said, “This is already… difficult. You don’t have to make it harder.”

You blinked. “What?”

Caitlyn swallowed, staring straight ahead. “You do things like that. Hold my hand. Look at me like…” She exhaled. “Like it means something.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“And it doesn’t?” you asked, barely above a whisper. Caitlyn gripped the wheel tighter. “It can’t.”

For a second, neither of you spoke.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you murmured, “I think it already does.” Caitlyn’s fingers twitched, but she didn’t look at you.

You both knew you’d crossed a line.

The problem was—neither of you were sure you wanted to go back.

The car ride back was too quiet. Caitlyn hadn’t said a word since you muttered I think it already does. She kept her eyes on the road, jaw tense, hands gripping the wheel like she was bracing for impact.

You were bracing, too. You’d been playing this game for weeks—flirting just enough to make headlines, touching just enough to make it convincing, keeping the world fooled while pretending you weren’t fooling yourselves.

But now?

Now, the game wasn’t fun anymore.

Now, you were sitting in Caitlyn Kiramman’s stupid expensive car, feeling like you had just ruined something neither of you had the guts to name. The weight of it settled between you, heavy and suffocating.

The tension didn't break until Caitlyn pulled up in front of your apartment. She put the car in park but didn’t move to unlock the doors. Didn’t even look at you. You stared at her profile, frustration bubbling up in your chest.

“You’re just gonna act like that didn’t happen?” you asked. Caitlyn’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You let out a dry laugh. “Seriously?” She finally turned to you. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—those sharp, too-blue eyes—were full of something raw.

-

Your phone vibrated on the couch. A text.

Caitlyn: Can we talk?

You stared at the message, pulse skipping.

A part of you wanted to ignore it. Wanted to pretend that you hadn’t just spent the last hour spiraling over a situation you weren’t even supposed to care about.

But you weren’t that strong.

You: Door’s open.

A few minutes later, there was a soft click as Caitlyn let herself in. She didn’t look at you right away. Just stood near the doorway, shifting on her feet like she was considering leaving before she made things worse. Too bad. She was already here. You sat up, raising a brow. “So?”

She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I—” She hesitated. “I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”

You folded your arms. “No kidding.”

Caitlyn let out a soft, humorless chuckle. “I just…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words. “This is getting messy.”

You huffed a laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

She finally met your gaze, and for the first time, you saw it—hesitation.

Like she wasn’t sure if she was about to ruin everything.

You swallowed hard. “Caitlyn, what are we doing?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then, finally, she whispered, “I don’t know.” You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Silence stretched between you, thick with things neither of you were brave enough to say. And then, slowly, carefully, Caitlyn took a step closer.

Your heart stuttered.

She was close enough now that you could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes—the same uncertainty that had been clawing at you for weeks.

“If we keep going like this…” Caitlyn swallowed. “Someone’s going to get hurt.” Your throat felt tight. “Yeah.”

Neither of you moved. Neither of you dared to cross that last, dangerous line.

But for the first time, it felt like you weren’t running in circles anymore. For the first time, it felt like you were standing on the edge of something real.

And you had no idea what to do about it. You should have said something. Caitlyn was standing there, close enough that you could see the slight part of her lips, the way her throat bobbed as she swallowed.

Close enough that if you just reached out—just a little—you could close the space between you. But neither of you moved. You just stood there, staring at each other like two people standing at the edge of a cliff, waiting to see who would jump first.

“…We should stop this.” Caitlyn’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

Your heart twisted. “Do you want to?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

That silence was enough of an answer.

Your fingers curled into fists at your sides. “You can’t keep doing this,” you muttered. “You can’t keep pulling me in just to push me away.”

Caitlyn flinched, like the words physically hit her. “I’m not—” “You are,” you snapped, your chest tightening. “Every time I start to think this means something, you remind me that it doesn’t. And I let you.” Caitlyn sucked in a breath. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me!”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

And that—that—was what hurt the most.

Not the hesitation. Not the way she kept denying what was right in front of her.

But the fact that even now, even when the weight of this thing between you was crushing, she still wouldn’t let herself want it. You let out a hollow laugh, shaking your head. “That’s what I thought.”

You turned, rubbing a hand down your face, trying to steady yourself. Trying not to let it show just how badly this was getting to you.

And then—softly, barely above a whisper—Caitlyn said, “I’m scared.” You froze. She never let her guard down like that. Not with you. Not with anyone.

Slowly, you turned back to her.

Caitlyn’s hands were clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. Her expression was tight, her walls cracked just enough for you to see through. You exhaled. “Scared of what?” She swallowed. “That if I let this happen… if I let myself feel this…” She shook her head. “I won’t be able to stop.”

The words knocked the air out of your lungs. You could handle her pushing you away. Could handle her pretending this wasn’t real.

But this—this raw admission—was too much.

Your voice came out quieter than you intended. “And that would be so bad?” Caitlyn looked at you then, really looked at you, and for a second—just a second—you saw it. All the fear. All the longing. All the things she’d been trying so desperately to deny.

But then, just like that, the walls went back up.

She inhaled sharply, straightening her shoulders. “I should go.”

Your stomach dropped.

She was running again.

Of course she was.

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to nod. “Right. Of course.” Caitlyn hesitated—like she wanted to say something, do something—but instead, she turned on her heel and walked away.

You didn’t stop her.

You just stood there, staring at the door after it shut behind her, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of you. The moment the door shut behind her, you felt it—the ache in your chest, the unspoken words clawing at your throat, the unbearable weight of letting her go again.

No.

Not this time.

Your feet moved before your mind could catch up, carrying you forward as you yanked the door open and stepped into the hallway.

“Caitlyn!”

She froze at the sound of your voice.

For a moment, she didn’t turn around. She just stood there, shoulders tense, fists clenched at her sides like she was bracing herself.

You took a step closer, then another. “Don’t do this.”

Caitlyn swallowed, her head tilting slightly like she was considering your words. Then, she shook her head. “I have to.”

You exhaled sharply, your heart pounding. “No, you don’t. You just want to.”

Finally, she turned to face you.

Her eyes were guarded, but you saw through it—saw the hesitation, the conflict, the part of her that didn’t actually want to walk away.

You took another step, closing the space between you. “Tell me to stop,” you murmured. “Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want this.”

Caitlyn parted her lips—whether to speak or to breathe, you weren’t sure—but no words came out.

She couldn’t say it.

You reached for her hand, your fingers brushing against hers. “I know you’re scared,” you whispered. “But so am I.”

Caitlyn exhaled shakily, and that was when you saw it—the moment her resolve cracked, the moment the fight left her.

And then, suddenly, she was kissing you.

Desperately.

Like she was making up for all the times she ran. Like she was trying to say all the things she never let herself say.

You barely had time to react before you were kissing her back, your hands fisting the front of her shirt, pulling her in closer.

Caitlyn’s fingers tangled in your hair, her body pressing against yours as if she needed you closer—needed this, needed you.

When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless.

Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to stop.”

You smiled softly, your fingers tracing the edge of her jaw. “Then don’t.”

Caitlyn let out a shaky breath, her grip on you tightening like she was scared you’d slip away if she let go. Her forehead stayed pressed against yours, her warm breath fanning across your lips.

For once, she wasn’t running.

For once, she was here.

But you needed more than this fleeting moment—you needed her to stay.

You reached up, cupping her face, tilting it so she had no choice but to look at you. “Caitlyn,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. “Don’t leave me again.”

Her eyes flickered with something unreadable—fear, longing, hesitation. But then her hands slid down to your waist, her fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like she was anchoring herself to you.

“I don’t want to,” she admitted, her voice barely audible.

Your heart clenched. “Then don’t.”

Caitlyn swallowed hard, her lips parting like she wanted to say something else, but instead, she kissed you again—slower this time, lingering, like she was memorizing the feeling.

Your arms wrapped around her, holding her as close as possible, afraid that if you let go, she’d disappear again.

The hallway around you blurred into nothing—there was only her, only the warmth of her lips, the tremble in her hands, the way her body pressed against yours like she was afraid you’d vanish, too.

When she pulled away, she didn’t go far. Her forehead pressed to yours again, her fingers skimming your sides like she still wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch you.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, voice raw. “I don’t know how to let myself have this.”

You exhaled softly, brushing your thumb over her cheek. “Then let me show you.”

Caitlyn closed her eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, and when she opened them again, something had shifted.

There was still fear, but there was something else, too.

Something like acceptance.

“…Okay.”

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.

You smiled, pressing another soft kiss to her lips. “Okay.”

_

@PopCultureDaily

🚨BREAKING: Caitlyn Kiramman and [Y/N] spotted on a romantic late-night date… and yes, THEY KISSED! 💋👀

Paparazzi caught the two sharing a slow, intimate kiss outside a quiet, upscale restaurant, and the internet is LOSING IT.

📸 [Attached Image: Caitlyn cupping [Y/N]’s face, kissing them softly under the glow of city lights]

Fans are already calling it the most cinematic moment of the year. Are we finally witnessing the real-life romance of the century?! 😭❤️ #CaitlynAnd[Y/N] #PowerCouple

@ fangirl_101

WE WON. WE ACTUALLY WON. 🫠

@ shipname_updates

The way she’s holding [Y/N] like they’re the most precious thing in the world… yeah, I’m unwell.

@ lesbianrights

HISTORY IS BEING MADE.

And just like that, the internet had its confirmation.

It was real.

And this time, neither of you were running from it.

A/N - didnt get to proofread this one... sori guys late post UGHHH.

[cuteandhughesy]

30 and sid pleaseeeeee

prompt no. 30: "you got me flowers?" "yeah? is that like..not a normal thing with guys your age?"

a/n: but if a time jump! sid is retired and coaching kids :)

you slide the silver dainty hoop into your ear, clasping it closed once it’s fully through. you repeat the process on the other side, smiling triumphantly as they glimmer in the light above your bathroom mirror.

you smooth down the front of your summer dress, feeling the soft material between your manicured fingers—it’s like buttermilk. you twirl around, checking over your look once more time.

it’s your third date with sidney crosby. you meet him at your little brothers hockey game, one that you had to take him too because both of your parents had to work. you didn’t even mean to run into him—sure, having the sidney crosby coach your brothers little league team was really cool, but you were never really into hockey, and you honestly didn’t care to meet him.

you were running a little bit behind that day, practically pushing your brother along so he’d stop with the damn sloth pace like he always does, when you ran right into him.

his jaw had ticked, starting down at you while your younger brother blinked between the two do you helplessly. the team is already on the ice, skating around to start their warmups. which means sidney was coming to look for your brother.

“i’m sorry,” you said, ushering your brother along to the direction of the change room. “we’re late. I didn’t even know what time the game started, and my parents didn’t tell me they needed james dropped off until 20 minutes before-“

your babbling was amusing to sidney, and if anything it made him feel a bit fond. yeah, he’d been angry that one of his players was so late that they were missing warm ups, and he was on his way to raise some havoc, but then you walked in. silky looking hair and puffer coat that reminded him of a baby penguin, ushering your brother along like you were both apart of a secret mission.

sidney found it endearing. “it’s okay,” he tells you, a half smile on his face. he tucks his clipboard under his arm and then extends his hand in your direction, “i’m sidney.”

you let out a sigh of relief, the smallest grin pulling at your face. you were fully prepared for the retired nhl phenomenon to team you out in front of everyone, so his softness, for lack of a better word, caught you by surprise. you take his hand delicately, “i’m y/n.”

you started taking your brother to james more often than not after meeting sidney, which your parents didn���t mind—work was keeping them busy enough without driving james around. your crush your on your brothers coach was pathetic, you knew that. he was older than you, too busy paying attention to a bunch of kids to even notice you staring at him helplessly in the stands.

but then he asked you for coffee.

and then after getting coffee together he asked if you were free for dinner that following friday.

and now you’re here, in your shitty apartment bathroom getting ready for an afternoon lunch with sidney crosby.

you decide that you don’t need anymore jewelry or extra makeup—what you’ve already got on will do. you flick off your bathroom light, rounding down the hallway to your bedroom. you cringe—it looks like a tornado blew through your room. multiple different clothing pieces strewn across the floor from only 20 minutes ago when you were frantically trying to find something to wear.

you just wanted to look appropriate and pretty and mature for your date.

god, sidney crosby has turned you into a melty mess and you haven’t even kissed the guy yet.

as you’re slipping on your shoes there’s a firm knock at your door—two to be exact. your body goes hot and a smile lights up your entire face. you practically skip out of your room and back down the hall, “coming!” you call softly.

when you open the front door sidney is wearing a lopsided grin, dressed in a light blue linen button up and khaki shorts. he looks like a yacht dilf. his salt and pepper hair glimmers in the sunshine, and the cologne he’s wearing makes your head feel dizzy. “hey,” sidney says, walking up the last step of your stoop.

“hey yourself,” you smile nervously, accepting the warm hug he offers you. it’s only then that you notice the bouquet of spring coloured flowers— daffodils, baby breath, and a few others you don’t recognize but are still stunning. you eye him shyly, reaching out to stroke along one of the petals, “you got me flowers?”

the way you ask him, so unsure but still filled with hope makes sidney falter. just for a moment. he passes you the bouquet, to which you raise to your face and smell them instantly. “yeah? is that like…not a normal thing for guys your age?”

you grin, a small bubble of laughter following. “no,” you say, rounding into your small kitchen and pulling an empty vase down from the top of your fridge. sidney watches as you move effortlessly, your dress swinging and hugging you in all the right places. he almost wants to shake his head in disbelief. you’re so stunning.

you fill up the glass vase with tap water and then place the flowers in, setting the arrangement on your counter with a soft smile. “I love them,” you say, skipping back over to where sidney is standing—which is now inside your entryway, leaning causally against the wall beside a picture frame. “thank you.”

your hands rest on his stomach, thumb stroking the linen top absentmindedly as you look up at him. sidney’s smile turns more soft, raising his hand to push your loose hair behind your ear. “of course.”

he doesn’t move his hand like you expect him too. sidney stays cradling the side of your head, and before you can react, he’s leaning down, pressing a firm closed mouth kiss to your lips. he pulls away after 5 seconds, and then leans back in for a quicker peck before completely pulling off you.

you blink in surprise, “we’ve never done that before.” you say dumbly.

“no,” sidney says, “we haven’t. is that okay?”

“definitely okay,” you mumble, pushing up to your toes and kissing him again.

—

(unedited)

[shanastoryteller]

SHANA HAVE YOU SEEN ARCANE? IF NOT GO DO THAT AND JOIN ME IN MY INSANITY WITH JAYVIK. Otherwise its dealers choice and some happy valentines chocolates for you 💕💋

Castiel has gone rogue, has torn down the wall keeping the cage at bay, and Dean is going to have to face him alone if Sam can’t figure out how to get out of his own head.

Absorbing the memories of what he’d done when he’d been soulless had hurt. To know that any version of him was capable of that kind of callousness, of the kind of ruthless efficiency he’d always turned up his nose at, was a blow.

But absorbing the memories of the cage may very well kill him. Everyone seems to expect it to, if it doesn’t drive him outright insane. It’s likely the most he can hope for is that it leaves him cationic, that he stays in this safe little place in his mind that Lucifer can’t touch and leave the rest of the world to rot. He already destroyed himself to save it once, why should he have to go through that again?

For the same reason he did it the first time.

The world still has Dean in it. He can’t leave his brother to suffer if there’s anything he can do about it.

When he finds across the version of himself that knows the cage, he has to clamp down on the urge to tremble. He’s standing there, half hidden in shadow, leaning against the wall like he can’t hold up his own weight.

He’s covered head to toe in blood.

“Hey,” he says then swallows. Soulless had been aggressive, had been angry, hadn’t hesitated to engage with him. Cage seems like he can barely keep breathing.

It’ll make him easy to kill, easy to reintegrate, but he doesn’t know what that will leave him as when he’s done.

Just killing the guy after everything he’s been though doesn’t seem right. He licks his lips. “Look, I don’t know how aware you are of everything that’s going on, but I – we – I mean.” He swallows. “Dean’s in trouble and I can’t help him without remembering. Everything. And I know I’m not strong enough to deal with everything you’ve delt with-”

“Why do you say that?”

Sam startled. Cage’s voice is raspy, but not weak. There’s no fear, no tears, just simple curiosity. “I – what?”

“Why do you say that?” Cage repeats.

“I,” he thinks back on Soulless’s memories, of how he’d been on board with getting his soul back up until he’d found out what it would do to him, of how they’d described the tattered remains of who he used to be. “They said it would destroy me. You don’t – you don’t look to be in great shape.”

Cage shrugs. “People have always underestimated us, Sam. You know that. They didn’t think we’d be able to take control of Lucifer and we did that.”

“What?” he laughs incredulously. “It was just a hunky dory time in there with Lucifer? You look like shit.”

“And you think Lucifer did this to us?” Cage smiles, Sam can see the white of his teeth against his blood covered face. It should be disturbing, a sign of a cracked mind, a cracked soul, but it just looks like a normal smile. “You know us. You know us better than I do at this point. When have we ever stopped fighting?”

“We fought the devil,” he says flatly. “In the cage.”

“Do you know what powers angel’s grace? Demon’s abilities?” he asks.

Sam shakes his head.

“Human souls,” he says. “It’s the greatest source of power on any of the three planes. And if you know Enochian, you can harness that same power. It took a while, but eventually we learned.” He tilts his head to the side. “I won’t lie, Sam. Lucifer put us through things that no person should experience, a type of hell that broke us more than once. But we were in that cage a long, long time. Souls heal. Grace disconnected from heaven just runs out. I’m thankful to be out, but given a few more centuries, well. Lucifer wouldn’t just be in the cage. He’d be gone.”

Sam doesn’t understand, doesn’t believe it. “So you used your own soul to fight the devil? With the angel’s language? That’s–”

“What did we have to lose?” Cage interrupts. “Michael and Lucifer distracted each other occasionally, and Michael keeps Adam unaware. All we had was fighting and surviving. If we could kill Lucifer for good, what did it matter what state it left our soul in?”

“Then why hide?” he challenges. “Death and Castiel put you away. Why hide even now? If it’s not that bad, why let yourself be walled away?”

“It is that bad,” Cage says softly. “You’re just that strong.”

Sam swallows.

He used to believe that about himself.

“I’ve spent centuries in the cage,” he says. “Some days I barely remember life on Earth. I’ve changed. I had no reason not to.” He looks away for the first time. “I did it for Dean. I never forgot that. And Dean got me out, he saved me, but,” he meets Sam’s eyes. “I remember what it was like to have Dean look at me like he didn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to go through that again. You, he knew. You, he recognized. I thought it was better. You didn’t need the person you became in the cage once we were out of it and I wanted,” he cuts himself off again.

It's okay.

Sam knows.

“You wanted to be someone Dean would be willing to sell his soul for,” Sam says.

He’d never wanted what Dean did, but he’s always felt crushed under the weight of being worthy of it, of the loss and fear when he felt he wasn’t. It’s such a fucked up metric to measure love against, if someone would be willing to go to hell for you, but Dean’s the one who set it. He’s just following suit.

He’d do anything for Dean.

“Dean needs our help,” Sam says. “Castiel-”

“I know,” Cage says. “Even a juiced up Cas isn’t Lucifer. We’ll be able to take care of him. You need to know what I know and there’s no way to teach you Enochian without everything you had to go through to learn it. I’m sorry.”

“We’ve got a year of fresh memories,” he says. “A year of our life on earth front and center. It’ll help. They won’t feel so far away from us after.”

Dean will still love them after.

“You hope,” Cage scoffs.

Sam smiles and lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. “Yeah. It’s all we’ve ever had, right?”

Cage smiles again, pushing off the wall to stumble forward. Sam catches him when his knees buckle, looking into his own face, his own eyes. They are different. But not unfamiliar.

Souls heal. Whatever Lucifer did to him, whatever he did to himself in there, it’s not irreversible. There’s a difference between scarred and bleeding.

“You’re going to be okay,” Cage says, offering him a knife that Sam hadn’t even noticed him carrying. “You can do this.”

Sam swallows, giving a nod before taking the hilt and plunging it into Cage’s chest. He holds him through it, hearing the wet gasp against his hear. “Yes,” he says softly. “We can.”

When he opens his eyes in the panic room, all versions of him settled into one, into just Sam, he doesn’t waste time mourning the people he used to be.

Dean needs him.

[sanemiss]

Sanemi is Jealous (of your friends Tomioka and Obanai)

If she can get past your deplorable character, she's all yours.

+ short bonus Sanemi comforting you while crying

+ bonus Obanai/Sanemi ~friendship

Part 2: Sanemi has a Crush on you- and asks for advice (ft. Obanai and Tomioka)+ confession

>fluff, fluff, fluff

TW:

>cursing

>slight angst //v short & it is not central to the story

1.5K

Sanemi really thought he could not hate Tomioka even more, but here he is. The whole hashira group is laughing at something you said, loud laughs bursting and echoing around the room. Ugh, that always happens, ever since you got here.

He can't help but stare at Tomioka and his stupid fucking laugh, his face lighting up in your presence, so close to you, evidently the closest person to you, as if you were complementary parts of the same piece. Sanemi feels like he could smash his dumb fucking face through the wall right about fucking now.

"Punch him already or calm the hell down. I can feel you vibrating", Obanai observes his friend distantly.

You're all having a little gathering with food and drinks, just to take your minds off of trauma, missions, or recovery. To relax, just for one moment. Of course, it was your initiative, strongly supported by Mitsuri and Tengen, both who then dragged everyone else to the event without leaving room for a "no".

"I fucking hate being in the same room as this guy. Fucking Tomioka and his little fucking friend who forced us to be here."

Obanai would normally agree, he hates gatherings. But he gets to see Mitsuri outside of work, and maybe he could even talk to her today. Or maybe he's just repeating the words you told him in order to convince him to come. You've been bugging him to make a move for some time now.

"She's pretty cool, you know? The new girl", Obanai comments absently.

"You're such a fucking idiot, shut up."

"Aw...", Obanai says mockingly, "is Shinazugawa upset that the new girl is friends with everyone but him?"

"First of all, I'm gonna fucking kill you. Second of all, what, you consider yourself her friend now? As if!", he scoffs.

"Actually we've been spending most of our evenings together for more than two months now."

"Wow, have a great fucking wedding, then", Sanemi barks and searches for an exit with his eyes but he would have to pass by the entire group of loud people. He knows they would make a fuss if he tried to leave. Annoying.

Obanai is amused. Is this dumbass actually jealous or something?

You guys truly became very close. As loud and outgoing as you seem, you are very much like Tomioka on the inside. Gloomy, hanging from a deep, heavy emptiness. One night, you finally dropped the mask and let Obanai see this version of yourself, and your vulnerability gained his trust. Hell, he could relate to your intricate emotions so much. This grew into a connection that he'd never had before, where now he actually feels so safe that he openly talks about himself, where he actually trusts someone, a woman, and even has fun. But you guys are basically like siblings now, you even swear at each other, lovingly but harshly.

"Hey, guys! Can we sit here? All the other seats are taken", you're almost excusing yourself, because you know Shinazugawa doesn't like Tomioka and you're pretty sure he's not that fond of you either.

"Yeah, sit down, we were just talking about you", Obanai says cheekily. Sanemi wants to shove a fist into Obanai's face.

"You were?" You're slightly worried.

"Shinazugawa here wants to be your friend, it seems", Obanai responds, playing dumb.

You can sense Tomioka get uncomfortable, holding his breath. The air is now thick and cold and screeching. Awaiting an explosion.

Suddenly, Sanemi breaks the anticipation by sending Obanai flying right through the outside wall, an explosion of thick smoke rising and blocking everyone's sight. You could only hear the sounds of Sanemi trying (and failing) to attack Obanai again and again.

Well, people are pretty impressed it took so long for a fight to break out today.

+++

Life continued as usual for another 3 months. Trainings, missions, trainings, missions. You had no time to rest, your free time didn't sync with neither Tomioka or Obanai and the lack of connection with the people you can be yourself around has been getting to you.

You just drop to the ground. You feel so physically and emotionally exhaused, so stressed and so incredibly alone that it all starts to feel unbearable. Loneliness starts tearing at your heart and in no time, it's starting to rip it. Spiriling under the night sky, you're crying cascades, the heaviness in your heart growing and moving through your entire body, your senses blinded by exasperation, pain, fatigue.

"Hey, hey, what the hell, look at me, y/n."

The presence sends shivers through your body, immediately embarrassed that someone is witnessing this.

"Hey-", you wipe your tears and you see Sanemi's face, worried and alert at the sight of your breakdown.

He's squating, holding your hands tightly, his eyes turning into a deeply kind, caring gaze.

Instinctively, you try to force a smile, "Sorry, it's okay, you don't have t-"

He pulls you in a hug, to his chest, and now his big, tough, warm body is shielding you.

"It's okay, I got you", the powerful, deep, yet calm voice reassures you. His chin is gently pressing on the crown of your head, holding your body firmly with one hand while carefully patting your head with the other.

+++

"-anything right, you fucking idiot?! If you're so high and mighty and better than us then why can't you even take care of her?!"

The screaming outside has been going on for a couple of minutes now, only to finally open the door and see Tomioka- just having arrived from his mission- staring, confused, at a screaming Shinazugawa.

He sees you coming behind Sanemi's back and makes the kind of eye contact that translates to "Help, what the fuck is his deal now?"

"Hey", you say loudly, trying to cover the screaming, hoping that if you start talking normally, the screaming hashira would just stop. "Good to see you're back, Tomioka! How was the mission?"

Sanemi is taken aback, then yells "Fine, whatever! Do whatever you fucking want, idiot!", then storms away.

He's furious, fuming, could tear the entire world apart- so he's going training.

"What the fuck is up with you now, Shinazugawa?", the familiar voice interrupts his determined walk. He doesn't need to look up to the tree, where the sound came from, to know who it is.

"Not in the mood. Unless you wanna fight."

Obanai shrugs, climbs down the tree, takes out his sword. "Sure, let's go."

After around an hour of sparring, Obanai tries again, "So are you gonna tell me what happened?"

In-between metal clinks and dust rising up from the heavy steps, he says, "I just hate incompetence. You'd think trusting someone to be your boyfriend or whatever would mean they'd actually be worth it."

Obanai stops, moving out of the way right when the blade was about to strike "Huh, what are you talking about? Who has a boyfriend?" The thought that it could be Mitsuri passed his mind for one second and it honestly made him want to fucking burn and die. But no way, why would Sanemi be so bothered by that?

"Stop being stupid, you know fully well I mean y/n and fucking Tomioka."

Obanai remains stunned, and with the risk of getting decapitated, he throws his blade to the ground and starts laughing so hard he's basically screaming, so loud and wide that he even risks his bandages to rip.

"Oh my god, Shinazugawa", holding his stomach from laughter, "I knew you were fucking stupid but this is incredible", wiping off his tears.

Sanemi's growing a new thick layer of confusion and anger, still charging attacks at a defenceless Obanai who just casually avoids his increasingly violent attempts.

"I didn't know you were such a sensitive, jealous loverboy", his laugh picks up again.

"What, you can't stand Tomioka being close to her?" he's enjoying this childish torment so much. "I thought she was my girlfriend though? What happened with that? I thought you had a wedding planned for us, no?", not even landing a slash on Sanemi's face would feel this satisfying, this is the most fun he's had in his entire life.

Eventually Obanai's empathy wins. "Okay, okay, stop. Listen to me, loverboy", he chuckles. Sanemi's veins cannot hold onto his face any longer, the angrier he gets the more satisfying it is for his sadistic friend. "Okay, okay, listen-".

"Tomioka is not her boyfriend, no one is her fucking boyfriend, okay? If she can get past your deplorable character, she's all yours."

+++

┈➤・❥・

Part 2: Sanemi has a Crush on you- and asks for advice (ft. Obanai and Tomioka)+confession

[marcussour]

EXU Divergence E02 random thoughts and bits

Liam's Time Cop's back again

Time Regulation 420.69 NICE

STR 21 at LVL 0, damn

Also, is just, here's a vestige, thanks Stormlord

Crokas just entered, fullthrotle, into the CR Pantheon of fav characters

"I was foolish enough to believe I understood this world"

How on earth both Liam and Jasmine manage to repeat their rolls, and these are nat 1 and 2

3 Nat 1s Liam, come on

"You succeed and do not die"

Seriously, coming out of a campaign that ended with literal legends like VM and M9 at lvl 20 fighting massive world ending threats and Bells Hells at a really high level fighting a literal god eater, and also how both Calamity and Downfall went, the fact that here, like Brennan said, a hike through the woods (and massive rainfall and ash, and the risk of starvation) might as well caused a TPK if it wasn't for some good rolls now and then, that's a change of pace if I've ever seen one

We love 2 lesbian matriarchs (halfling and goblin) who run a woodland community

Fiedra, the original elf on a shelf (or halfling in this case, but y'all get it)

Crokas my beloved, you absolute legend

Garen using all that dwarven know how to find the best booze, I feel seen

Incredible find by Garen

I said it before, in a Candela Obscura maybe, but they really should adopt the closeups for personal 1 on 1 conversations for the main campaign. I know it's way more people on the table and maybe that makes it more technically difficult, but I think it really adds more depth, especially when it's people on oposite sides of the table

Congratulations, heroes of the Divergence. Loved that D20 like interjection before the time skip towards the next day.

Fiedra one day: almost dies. Fiedra the next day: back into mischief. What an icon.

It tells a lot about Fiedra that she tries to keep Crokas kinda a bit at arms lenght with the whole "bodyguard". Like, babe, those are attachment and trust issues from *gestures everywhere*, I get it, and its really interesting

Great to see that the Roaches survived... also Keph, what the actual fuck

Oh, who's gonna be the one to take out Marlath eventually, because there's no way that piece of shit's gonna survive the campaign. Look, I'm a lawyer, I've seen motherfuckers like him for years, no loss there

Hey look, a tiefling, long time we haven't seen one -not counting Jester-.

A cleric named Luz, again, not subtle, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Was it Snowvale or Snowgrave pass?

What's a bureaucrat without a bureaucracy.

This whole little vignette of the construction of the wall and the bridge, and the difference between a ruler and a leader? incredible

I can imagine that the soldiers are actually like, level 1 or 2, maybe 3 or 4 the leader, but since our PC's are level 0, I can imagine what a challenge this will be

Great move by Erro

Love the excitement of everyone seeing their minis. I wish they would've shown them more on camera

Wonder if the exhaustion points are gonna matter in this battle or not

Oh no, just 1 point of damage for everyone

So that's were the title of the episode came from

They're so fragile at lvl 0, a couple of hits and Erro's already down

That kenku's another certified Brennan's little guys

Love that we already entered into "Seven Samurai" territory

Crokas becomes a storm avatar??!!!! Again, what a legend, going full Godzilla against the Strife Emperor's soldiers

RIP Luz (or maybe not?)

"To respect the free will of all beings means to respect when one has made themselves an obstacle to a kinder world"

WAY TO GO NIA! LVL 1 MOONWEAVER CLERIC!

There's my zoom for the minis!

"Change is coming... AND I AM CHANGE"

Both dragonborns are down now

FIRST LEVEL ROGUE!

Nice detail the portraits of the characters gaining color the moment they level up

Crokas with a nat 20 on the death saving throw, see, already a CR legend

Oh, interesting, Crokas is a monk, I though it was gonna be some kind of barbarian (also, he's level 1 and already doing badass monk shit)

Also, from the way they all reacted to Alex not remembering that Crokas was a monk, I assume that all of them settled for a class before the whole being level 0

Brennan and his love for British Bake Off

And Erro's a ranger (which I guess now makes sense of Brennan saying at the beginning of the battle that Erro approached the soldiers like a ranger)

Poor Garen, the only one that didn't level up

Oh, so that's why Matt's reacted with a "WHAT???" to that Nat 20 by Alex

Look at those babies calming Crokas

I know that it's just how the dice rolls, but the fact that it's Nia the one that has lost people dear to her in both episodes.

Oh, Fiedra making an appointment behind Torm's Hill in the forest, I think she's really gonna kill Marlath.

Fiedra raised Crokas? wow

Now it's Snowgrace pass

GIGANTIC MONK SHIT

Marlath's not only a bureaucrat and the worst kind of layer, he's also a fucking capitalist

"You have to beat a 6", "That's a 23"

Oh, that's amazing, I thought that they were gonna kill him, but they "just" cut his tongue.

So interesting that Matt took the option of not gaining a level.

Well, we're halfway through the story, and it's a clean break as any, even though we have the goal of finding Nia's family. Wonder how things will continue.

[tare-anime]

"In the Quiet of Growing Hearts"

Chapter 2: Date Interrupted, but Still Perfect (AO3)

Prompts: Date and Picnic

My late Valentine's entry @twiyorbase ^^;

-------------------------------------

“Papa! Make sure you give Mama the card I made!” Anya’s energetic voice fills the room as she waves her tiny hand.

“Yes,” Loid answers, his tone tired.

“And don’t forget to give her the best smooch,” Franky adds, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“I’m not going to—”

But the door slams shut before he can finish. The sound of cheerful laughter and barking echoes from the other side, where Anya, the dog, and the caretaker are already starting to create their usual chaos in the apartment.

Loid groans, wiping his face in frustration. He really needs to make sure none of them turned the apartment into a disaster. If they do, it will ruin his mission: giving Yor a perfect, fun day as part of Operation Strix’s maintenance program.

“But Anya’s smile is worth it.”

Yor would say that. He chuckles at the thought, turning on his heels. He can already hear her voice in his head, reminding him that he would never win that argument.

Today’s mission is to take his wife on a date.

He can’t imagine what kind of gossip would spread around the neighborhood if he forgot this most important date of the year. Everyone will be talking about his “negligence” or even “infidelity” if he didn’t follow through.

Then there is Anya’s story about Becky’s mom getting furious when her friend's dad forgot their wedding anniversary—just thinking about it made Loid break into a cold sweat.

He has been so wrapped up in side missions that he almost forgot the most crucial date of all—the one that truly pushed Operation Strix into motion.

The “real” date they signed their marriage certificate at the courthouse (not the one fabricated for their cover). The day Yor moved into their apartment and agreed to play the role of the Forger matriarch.

Loid has read countless relationship books, and they all had one thing in common: “Happy wife, happy life.” That saying is drilled into him, because his mission depends on the success of his marriage. He has to keep the “happy marriage” vibes intact—at all costs.

So, he made sure all his other assignments were done.

Reports? Submitted.

New side missions? Denied.

Gripping the picnic basket tightly, the blonde spy run through his mental checklist: freshly baked salted caramel dark chocolate pie for dessert, simple egg sandwiches for the savory part. He’d also packed the champagne glasses, carefully wrapped in soft cloth.

The only thing missing was Apfelkorn—essential to complete their simple, yet perfect “watching the sunset together” date at the park that Yor loved.

Determined, he makes his way to the nearest liquor shop he trusts.

When his knuckles rapped on the counter, he expected the usual young man to greet him. Instead, the last person he expects—an elderly woman—appears.

It is the same WISE messenger he’d met during his trip to the Berlint aquarium, the one who’d handed him a message about the penguins.

Twilight adjusts his hat, nodding toward her. “Good evening. Is Stefan not working today?”

The old woman nods. “You’ve got a mission, Twilight—”

“No,” he cuts her off quickly.

A moment of silence follows, then she continues. “This mission is straight from WISE HQ.”

“No,” Loid repeats firmly. “Today’s important for Operation Strix.”

He raises the basket as if to emphasize his point. “If I fail this mission, rumors of a failing marriage will spread like wildfire. It will ruin everything.”

“A picnic?” The messenger raises an eyebrow. “I don’t see how a picnic is more important than retrieving a contraption from terrorists.”

“This picnic,” he said with emphasis, “is at a very memorable place. It’s the key to ensuring the ‘happy wife, happy marriage’ image. Especially today of all days.” He stresses each word, certain a woman of her age will understand the significance of anniversaries.

Loid fights the urge to smirk when the woman’s expression dawns in understanding. It seems that the books he’d read were right—wedding anniversaries mattered.

With that, he continues, “And that’s exactly why I cannot—”

“I get it,” she interrupts him, cutting him off before he could finish.

Loid sighs with relief. “Well then, one bottle of Apfelkorn, please— HEY!”

Before he can finish, the woman grabs the basket from his hands and shoves a thick folder into his empty palms. “Leave your anniversary preparations to me and my team. You go to this location, ASAP!”

“WHAT?!” Loid’s eyes widened. “I said no!”

She grabs his shirt and whispers urgently, “Listen, Twilight. If the terrorists get their hands on those contraptions, who knows how many lives will be lost? The Forger family could be in danger!” She shoves him away. “Go! You’ve got one hour. We’ll make sure your anniversary is perfect down to the smallest detail.”

Before he can respond, the woman slams the booth window shut, disappearing from sight.

Loid growls in frustration, realizing he had no choice but to finish this aggravating mission in under an hour.

He has to get to the park before Yor finished her shift at the City Hall.

With determination, he quickly scans the mission details, commits them to memory, and sprints off, intent on completing it in record time.

.

.

Thorn Princess grunts as she yanks her stiletto from the lifeless body of the umpteenth bodyguard who’d tries to stop her progress toward the mansion’s underground chambers.

She turns and grits her teeth in frustration when she is once again faced with a massive, reinforced steel door.

How many of these doors does he have?

She harrumphs when grinding the lock mechanism beneath her palm. The pressure on her hand makes her fingers sore after the third steel door, but her target—her customer—keeps retreating deeper into his safe chamber.

When Yor received the last-minute assignment from the Shopkeeper, she assumed it would be a quick job—half an hour at most. She never anticipated this frustrating game of cat and mouse would drag on for so long.

And to her exasperation, after finally breaking through the third door, she is met with a sea of bodyguards, but the target himself is nowhere to be seen.

On any other day, she’d gladly play the game until her target exhausted all his resources. But today is different.

Yor has a date with her husband.

Loid has been pushing himself far too hard again, despite their conversation the other day. She guesses he hasn’t lied when he said old habits die hard. So, she is honestly relieved when he asks for a simple picnic date at the park. Perhaps he remembers their conversation, and—just maybe—he’d decided to take a break from his grueling schedule and relax for once.

It feels like an honor that he’d asked her to accompany him during this rare window of rest.

She has agreed to the time and place, and she has to be there on time.

With precision, she takes down the guards in seconds, glancing up at the clock that somehow exists in this underground lair.

She gasps when she sees the time. It is already evening.

Facing yet another steel door, Yor quickly calculates the time. There is no way she’d make it to their meeting spot on time unless she took a shortcut. It will create more work for her afterward, but time is running out.

Instead of struggling to pry open the door, Yor kicks down the walls and immediately pursues her target.

After a relentless chase, she finally catches up with the scum she needs to clean up and surly asks, “Mr. Otis of the auditing board? Would you give me the honor of taking your life?”

Rather than answering her, he screams at his underlings, “What are you doing?!! Finish her off!”

Such manners!! Yor thinks, narrowing her eyes.

With a few swift movements, the job is done.

She searches for the nearest landline and dials the familiar number.

The call is answered immediately. “Flowers for your everyday needs.”

“All the customers have been served,” Yor reports.

“Amazing work, as always.”

“.......-- Thank you.”

Perhaps sensing the hesitancy in her, the voice on the other end asks, “Is there anything else you need?”

Yor fidgets with the phone cord and glances at the clock. Normally, she doesn’t require assistance with the clean-up, but now...

She bites her lip. “Umm... do you mind sending me a helping hand? I might have made a bit of an unintended mess…”

“To the flower plants? Or the flower pots?”

“Uh... both?”

The voice chuckles softly. “No problem. We’ll send a courier to assist you with the problems. It’ll be like nothing ever happened.”

Yor bows deeply, relieves. “Thank you so much!”

She hangs up the phone and hastily cleans herself and her stilettos in the adjacent washroom, wiping away any remaining blood. Once she is sure there are no traces left, she changes into fresh clothes, neatly wraps her assassin tools, and stores them in the secret compartment of her bag.

Quickly ascending the stairs, she makes it to the mansion’s front door. As soon as her feet hit the yard, she sprints to their designated meeting spot.

But despite running as fast as she could, leaping from rooftops, over fences, and cutting through backyards, Yor still arrives at the park only after the sun has dipped below the horizon.

Panting and frazzled, she scans the park frantically, her heart pounding in her chest. She dreads the thought of Loid being angry or disappointed because she is late.

She catches sight of a small crowd gathering near their spot, now occupied by a performer, but Loid is nowhere in sight.

She searches the park again, but still, no sign of him.

Oh no. Has Loid already gone home? Yor think, panic rising.

Turning on her heels, she makes her way to the park entrance, planning to find a phone booth and call home. Then, just as she is about to leave, she spots Loid at the entrance, clearly out of breath. His eyes are scanning the crowd, most likely looking for her.

Yor releases a deep sigh of relief and waves at him. “Loid, over here!”

.

(Several moments prior)

.

Twilight curses under his breath as this side mission goes off the rails.

Aside from the lack of intel and preparations, he has been forced to crawl through ceiling vents, fight off burly bodyguards, and somehow still end up tumbling into a filthy sewer. And to make matters worse, the warning turned out to be a false alarm. There are no terrorist threats. Just a group of filthy rich old people, secretly gathering to swap rare (and illegally imported) idol cards.

On any other day, he would’ve been relieved to discover there is no immediate danger.

But today, that just adds fuel to his irritation.

He slams the reports onto the table in front of the WISE messenger.

“Oh my, you look—” She wrinkles her nose. “—and ugh, what’s that smell? Agent, you definitely can’t go on a date looking like that.”

Twilight scowls.

“Hey, is that the face I get after we’ve meticulously completed our part and made sure your ‘picnic date’ preparation is flawless?” she teases, pointing to the back of the stall. “Go freshen up over there.”

Twilight sighs and does as told, cleaning himself off as quickly as possible.

He ensures there are no traces of grime left, then puts on the shirt that, strangely, is a little too tight and lacks buttons on the top two parts.

“Aha! As expected. It looks perfect on you, Mr. Forger!” The messenger grins, shoving the picnic basket into his hands. “Don’t forget your meals.”

Before he can respond, she pushes him out the door and winks, giving him a thumbs up. “Go shack up with the gorgeous lady!!”

“I’m not going to—”

Once again, for the third time that day, the door slams in his face.

Suppressing his frustration, Twilight focuses on running as fast as he can. But still, he arrives unceremoniously late to the park.

His blue eyes search frantically among the crowd, scanning for his wife.

All his anxiety melts away when he hears her voice calling out.

Loid’s smile blossoms as he jogs toward her. “Yor, I’m so sorry I’m late.”

To his surprise, she shakes her head and says, “It’s okay. I just got here myself.”

Loid blinks, surprised by the unexpected news. “Something happens at City Hall?”

Yor sheepishly replies, “Well, I… accidentally dropped an entire cabinet of archive folders when I was looking for one specific one. So I had to rearrange them all.”

“How awful. It’s all done though, right?”

She nods. “Yep. I ended up asking for help, but I still got here way later than we planned. How about you? Another emergency patient?”

Twilight scratches the back of his neck and chuckles. “Yeah. And the patient even splashed me with… err… their waste. Thankfully, one of my colleagues had spare clothes, though they’re a bit small, as you can see.”

They both chuckle awkwardly.

“Well, at least the sky still has some orange hues left. So we’re technically here for the sunset.” Yor points at the sky before gesturing toward their picnic spot. “Unfortunately, someone’s taken our spot. I guess we’ll need to find another place.”

Loid frowns. He is sure the messenger lady has reserved that spot for their picnic.

But as Yor has said, a few people have gathered in the area. He squints and sees a small group of band members tuning their instruments, standing awkwardly beside a picnic blanket decorated with hearts and tiny lamps, complete with bold pink letters spelling out, “Love you, my Darling. Be mine.”

Loid groans. It must’ve been that messenger and her team doing it.

“I wonder if they’re promoting a new song or something,” Yor muses.

“Well, we’d better not disturb them,” Loid says, immediately steering Yor away from the cringe-worthy setup.

They end up on the other side of the park, settling on a rusty bench.

“Are you hungry?”

“Oh yes, very much so,” Yor answers “To be honest, I’m most curious about what kind of food you prepared for this moment.”

Loid can’t suppress his grin as a strange sense of pride fills his chest. He opens the basket and grabs… something soggy wrapped in paper.

Huh?

Confused, he looks inside and finds two soggy deli sandwiches, a bottle of dry whiskey, and a folded letter.

He picks up the letter and reads it:

Loid crumples the letter, muttering strings of profanities.

“I’m sorry the cat nibbled on your pie and sandwich. But I’m glad it did.

What kind of pathetic meal was that?! I changed it, of course.

Good food and alcohol are necessary for fornication. 😉👍”

That old hag...!!!

“Loid? Are you okay?” Yor’s concerned face appears in his peripheral vision.

Taking several deep breaths, Loid grits his teeth and whispers, “I’m so sorry, Yor. Some colleague of mine thought it would be funny to prank me today.”

“Oh dear!” His wife gasps. “What did they put in there?”

Loid sheepishly presents the soggy sandwiches. “I have prepared your favorite—sweet egg sandwiches and chocolate pie. But… this…”

“Well, at least it’s still food.”

Loid blinks at his wife’s nonchalant tone, stunned, as she unwraps the sandwich and takes a bite.

“Mmm… it’s actually edible,” she says.

“Really?” Loid’s voice sounds more like a sulking child than an adult, but what else could he do after the universe conspires against him today?

“Mm-hmm… obviously not as good as your amazing egg sandwiches, but it’s still edible.”

He chuckles, watching his wife devour the sad excuse for a sandwich.

Of course, she’ll always see the good in everything. It is one of her most endearing traits.

Yet, it doesn’t stop the pang of guilt in his chest.

“I’m so sorry I ruined everything, Yor.” He sighs, accepting his defeat.

Instinctively, Loid grabs the bottle of whiskey and unscrews the lid. He plans to take a few swigs to drown his humiliation, but slender fingers stop him from tilting the bottle.

“I don’t think that strong of alcohol will do your empty stomach any good, Loid. Besides, you didn’t ruin anything. You’re here now, and that’s the most important part.”

His wife then takes the other sandwich, opens it, and hands it to him. “Here. It’s really not bad. Besides, any food will taste better when eaten with someone else, don’t you think?”

He blinks, looking at her.

He truly is amazed by how easily she turns a bad day into something enjoyable.

“Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He smiles, taking the sandwich from her hand.

He takes a bite. The bread is so soggy it nearly fell apart, the ham is far too salty, the sauce is excessive, and the veggies are wilted. But as she says, eating it together made it bearable.

Or maybe it is just because it is with Yor.

“Ah, I almost forgot,” Loid says, fishing a card from the basket, which thankfully has remained intact. He hands it to Yor. “Anya wants you to have this.”

Yor looks puzzled as she takes the card and opens it. Loid watches carefully as her mouth drops open, and she lets out a soft gasp.

.

.

“Happy Annyavirsary” is written on Anya’s card in colorful lines, with cute drawings of the Forger family. There is even a paw print from Bond.

Then, she hears Loid’s soft whisper. “Happy anniversary, Yor. I’m sorry today didn’t go as planned.”

Her eyes widened.

Has it really been a year?

“I’m sorry, Loid. I didn’t realize today was the anniversary,” she interrupts him.

Loid blinks, and Yor’s heart sinks. “Oh… Oh no. I’m sorry. I should’ve prepared something too, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Loid. I didn’t—”

His chuckles stop her rambling. He snickes. “Ah geez… and here I thought I made you angry for not preparing something more meticulous.”

Yor is stunned. “That’s impossible, Loid. You’ve worked so hard every day, and you always take care of me. I couldn’t be more grateful that you’ve let someone like me be part of your family. I don’t think I’ve done enough to—”

“Yor,” he interrupts gently, “You are a godsend. I mean it. I’m the one who feels I haven’t given you enough.”

She tries to speak, but no words came out.

Loid continues, “You’ve shown me how to see the good in this world. There were times I felt frustrated, but your perspective made me realize—it can always be worse.” He waves the remnants of the soggy sandwich. “Like this thing, for example.”

Loid’s blue eyes met hers, calm and sincere. “So thank you, Yor. For your presence in my—” He pauses and corrects himself softly, “—in our life.” Then he gives her one of his rare, gentle smiles that make Yor’s heart flutter.

Yor feels her face grow warm. “I—... I feel the same. It… it’s an honor for me to be part of your family…”

“Our family, Yor,” he corrects her again.

She gasps softly at the emphasis on “our” and nods. “...Our family.”

Yor looks at Anya’s card again, then glances at her hands.

She can still see the bloodstains that marred her skin.

Her fist clenches, trying to shake off the image.

Taking a deep breath, she looks up at the purple sky above, the familiar feeling of longing heavy in her chest. A longing to be seen for who she truly is—darkness and all.

“Honestly, sometimes I still can’t believe how lucky I am to have found you and Anya. I can’t believe people as good as you would accept someone like me.”

She clenches and unclenches her fists, careful not to crumple the card. She murmurs, “I’m not exactly clean…”

Loid might understand. But…

“Hey, what’s happened in the past is in the past.” He pauses. “I’m not exactly clean either,” he says under his breath, his voice tinged with a melancholy that makes his eyes cloud with distant thoughts.

Yor’s hand twitches, eager to offer him comfort.

Loid gently continues, “I stayed true to what I said back then. I am amazed by you—by how you endure gruesome work so that others can feel safe. Anya has told me that many times. And now… I know too.”

Yor feels her eyes well up and blinks quickly to hold back the tears.

Taking a shaky breath, she whispers, “To be honest, it feels like I’ve been with you, Anya, and Bond, for far longer than a year. But at the same time, it feels like it’s gone by so fast. I’ve… I’ve never felt so fulfilled in my life before.” She meets his gaze and says with determination, “I’m really glad I married you, Loid.”

His eyes widened a factor before smiling. “Same here.” Then, he looks at the basket and groans. “Ah… I really should’ve planned a much better date. I shouldn’t have listened to Anya. Did you know she was so adamant that you’d prefer a simple picnic over a fancy dinner?”

Yor chuckles. “Well, Anya is right.”

Loid blinks. “She is?”

Her smile widened. “To be honest, the environment of a date is secondary to… to…”

Suddenly, her confidence falters under his curious gaze. She gulps nervously, her voice soft as she adds, “To… your company.”

Why is my heart beating so fast right now?

Loid blinks and then he grins. “Is that so?”

She nods stiffly.

He sighs in relief. “Well, I enjoy your company too.”

They share a soft smile, their eyes meeting for a moment before quickly looking away, both blushing.

Clearing his throat, Loid says, “Still, I do think I should do something for dessert.”

Yor chuckles and looks around. She points to a small gelato stall at the edge of the park. “How about some gelato?”

“On such a chilly day?” He raises an eyebrow.

She smiles. “Why not?”

He grins. “Sure.”

They end up with cones of gelato, strolling leisurely around the park, chatting about everything and nothing.

And as they walk, Yor thinks to herself that maybe… maybe despite all the blood she has spilled, she really has done her part in keeping the world a beautiful place. Perhaps, at long last, the universe has finally given her a place of safety.

A place she determines to protect at all costs.

-------------------------------------------

Oh how I love to create disastrous dates for TwiYor: one, two, and this one XD Well, what can I do, these two dorks are too adorable ^^

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[accirax]

DRDT New Character Talent Analysis

WHO ARE THESE GUYS???? GOING CRAZY GOING STUPID

Ahem. 

As likely everyone has now seen at this point, DRDTdev made a very exciting announcement on Twitter– namely, that he’s been working on another fangan alongside DRDT! (Very relatable, once you make one fangan it’s kinda hard to stop.) Understandably, assuming this fangan is ever developed in full, it will be several years down the road, given that it would only be published after DRDT is complete.

However, we have these designs now, and I wanna know what their talents are, dammit! The blurb says that they are students trapped in a killing game, so I assume that they have been given Ultimate abilities. Thus, here’s my best shot and first look analysis. I tried not to look at anyone else’s work too much before presenting my opinions in order to get them out as fast as possible, so, sorry if I missed any major details that people have uncovered!

Notably, when I downloaded the images to my computer (so I could look at them without waiting for the website’s load time), all of them saved with weird number/letter codes. These probably mean nothing, although they do all end with “_o”, which could indicate that they were put through a code scramble of some kind. At the very least, the codes are a kind of convenient way to refer to the characters, so I’ll use the first three letters as a name. Also, I’ll be using they/them pronouns for all characters, since we don’t know how they identify.

We’ll start with the Protagonist, and go alphabetically by code from there. I’m so excited!!! Here we go:

I’m glad that this guy is basically confirmed as the Ultimate Teacher, because I honestly have no clue what I’d call them otherwise.

The main thing I noticed throughout their design was the repetition of red undertones everywhere. You can see them in two places: on the jacket, and in their hair. We know from the July 31st Q&A that characters in the Despair Time Fanganronpa Universe (DTFU) see blood as red, and that Monokuma’s color palette is black, white, and red. It’s kind of a suspicious color– the children’s hospital color theory of it all. O-or, maybe it’s just their favorite color…!

The bows in n9Z’s hair kind of remind me of the one on Peko’s sword case (sorry I didn’t put in a picture), although I doubt there’s a connection there. The gloves make me think of something fancy, the trenchcoat makes me think of a detective, the ID makes me think it’s something top secret… dude, what are you doing?

I guess there is the question of what exactly this person teaches. If we assume they’re the teacher Min mentions in A History of Hope’s Peak, it seems like the answer would be, “Ultimates.” If you want to teach Ultimates, you need to know and be able to do a lot of stuff, so that could explain the utilitarian design. They could have also initially had a background as something else, such as a government agent or employee of XF-ture Tech, before winding up as a teacher.

The fact that their eyes are always closed is also notable. Given DRDTdev’s penchant for putting important stuff in the eye designs, it’s possible there’s some important info in there that he's not ready to release yet. Like, if n9Z had black/red heterochromia or something, that would send us spinning. (Personally, I’m kinda hoping there’s an apple in there…) I also had the thought that n9Z might just permanently have both of their eyes closed, kind of like how Setsuka Chiebukuro of SDRA2 always keeps one eye closed. That would be a cute parallel to Min, whose eyes are always obstructed.

So, yeah. Ultimate Teacher, probably. Despite the fact that we more or less have their Ulimate talent, I somehow feel like we know the least about them…

My first impression of this person is that they’re definitely athletic in some regard. The ponytail that ends in a braid would be keeping the hair out of their eyes, and the athletic shoes would be helpful for running around.

About the marks under the eyes... While the comparison to my superhero design for Arturo is still a lighthearted jest, the reason for them being there may be fueled by the same reasoning. The superpower that @1moreff-creator gave Arturo was a skill that involved his vision, so I put those marks under his eyes as a natural mark that would mimic eye black. If you don’t want to read the entire link, eye black is those lines of paint (or sometimes stickers) that baseball or American football players wear under their eyes. While it’s not entirely scientifically proven, the point of the marks is supposed to be absorbing the rays of sun around the eyes to reduce the glare you would see. Thus, 0a6 may have these marks under their eyes to make it easier to see in a fast-paced situation (even though they're not particularly dark in color).

Additionally, if we didn’t already know who the protagonist was, I would guess it was 0a6. They have an ahoge in very much the same way that Teruko does, and they share an eye design with Hajime Hinata. The styling of their belt buckle also reminded me of how truth bullets are designed. However, 0a6 is NOT the protagonist, which must mean that these things mean something else. I don’t have much to say about the ahoge, but the eye design might instead imply that this person’s talent has to do with rejecting, opposing, or ending something. The bullet could be a regular bullet, and therefore imply that this person’s talent has something to do with guns.

For whatever reason, the hairstyle already made me think Ultimate Archer at first glance, so with the gun thing, I’m going to submit my guess as Ultimate Sharpshooter. This talent (and other slight variations of it) shows up pretty commonly in fangans (Kiyoka Maki of DRA, Desmond Hall of P:EG), and for good reason. It’s a talent that gives off a cool vibe, a potentially level headed yet aggressive personality, and can obviously be involved in many cool murder tricks.

My other guesses besides Ultimate Sharpshooter are in a similar ballpark– aforementioned Archer, Ultimate Bounty Hunter, Ultimate Spy, etc– but I could be way off track. I don’t see any weapons on 0a6, which would be weird for any of those talents. It could be more of a Debater type talent (with the eye symbol and truth bullet), or the blue gloves could hint at something more scientific (a la Charles and Arturo), although I don’t see the benefit to the sporty under-eye mark in either of those cases.

3Km is interesting, because they’ve got a lot going on. Hexagons, fire, zebra print– put it all together, and what does it mean? One interpretation is that their personality, too, is a lot.

I was immediately drawn to the markings on the left side of 3Km’s face, because I don’t know what they are. They could be angry veins, but… I don’t think veins really work like that in the shoulder. It’s far more than the typical anime stylization, not in the same place, and they don’t look particularly angry, so that's probably wrong. In that case, it’s probably a scar. But, what kind? Acid? An animal? Fire, like the symbol on their shirt?

Let’s move on for now and take a look at their pants. There’s a zebra pattern, which could imply a connection to animals/zoos or travel/Africa. The kind of pants they’re wearing are called chaps, which, hey, are typically ridden by horse riders! They’re meant to protect the rider’s legs from “thorny vegetation, extreme temperatures, and the animals they work with.” That definitely makes it seem like the zebra is important, as an equine animal.

Thus, my guess for this character is Ultimate Wild Animal Tamer. They wear chaps and gloves to protect them from the untamed animals they work with, yet they may have gotten a scar from a taming gone wrong. They’re strong so that they can get the upper hand, and the fire and piercings could speak to their rebellious, similarly wild personality. @venus-is-thinking also suggested that, as a Wild Animal Tamer, this character could work in the circus, which could further explain the flamboyant clothing and fire motif. They definitely seem like a character who could be putting on a show.

As for the other character pictured… that person is almost certainly 3Km’s sibling, likely a twin. However, as a fellow member of the killing game cast, we’ll get to them later! For now, let’s check out somebody else.

This character is one of the ones that I’m the most baffled about. They don’t wear a lot of symbols or field-specific clothing, so, it’s kind of a shot in the dark.

They definitely seem kind of fancy, what with the super swirly hair. Square scarves also typically seem to be worn in professional circumstances for stylish people. They’re wearing a lot of layers (including said scarf and a sweater), so it’s possible they work in a cold environment? Or maybe they just naturally run cold. There’s a lot of draping elements in their clothing, between the folded jacket and two-layered skirt, but that doesn’t really correlate to a specific location or profession.

The eyes patterns are also weird. They’re very spiky and not perfectly circular. What they reminded me of first were either an explosion, a loud noise, or a circular blade distorted while spinning quickly. Glasses are typically associated with nerdy or smart characters (like Eden and Charles), but anyone can wear glasses, so I wouldn’t use that as a huge selling point.

Anyways, the combination of fanciness, loudness, and potential nerdiness made me think some kind of talent incorporating a voice and art. I had ideas ranging from Ultimate Opera Singer to Ultimate Art Critic. In the end, I settled on Ultimate Stage Director, mostly as a vibe check. I could imagine this character ordering writers, actors, and set designers around with the goal of following their vision. A person like that who’s used to being in charge could be an interesting figure in a killing game. Again, though, I don’t have super strong feelings about this, so I’m extra looking forward to learning more.

I was going to slam dunk this one as the Ultimate Shepherd until @fuji-iri pointed out to me that there’s actually a sewing needle pattern in their eye! I’m kind of glad, because it gives me more to talk about and might explain some of the weird things I noticed if this character were the Ultimate Shepherd.

Besides the sewing needle, the eyes are definitely reminiscent of a sheep. Same with the braids in their hair– they’re arranged in a spiral reminiscent of a sheep’s horns. The cloud-like pattern on their cloak, as well as the soft-looking trim, seem fluffy and wool-like. 9lt definitely has a sheep motif, but that doesn’t mean it’s the talent exactly.

9lt’s bell hints at that concept. Although sheep often wear bells, according to google images, they’re more often regular bells than the circular bell depicted in their outfit. It seems like sheep can wear these bells, but they’re more commonly seen on cats.

There’s also a strong focus on pastel colors in the design, particularly pink. The design is very fun and childlike, it’s silhouette appearing smaller due to the large bow and lack of visible arms. (They’re also just pretty short.) The cloak, which obscures most of their body, kind of reminds me of Toshiko Kayura of P:EG. Small, cute, and childish, yet kind of mysterious and strange: that’s the vibes this design is giving me.

Given the sewing needle, it’s tempting to give this character a talent in fashion design. They do have a very specific style, which could play into their designs. However, with the strong connections to animals and fluffiness makes me think that they actually might be something along the lines of the Ultimate Plush Maker. It’s cozy and cuddly while also involving the sharp eye (of the needle) that a creator needs to have.

Now, this is a character with a lot going on. They’ve got symbols all over and a really fun hairstyle, so, let’s see how it could all fit together.

One of the aspects that first caught my eye was the flower in hwR’s hair. I’m pretty sure it’s a dandelion, which could be read in a couple of ways. The first is that a dandelion is a weed. hwR could be a character who often isn’t wanted, but manages to persist regardless. Secondly, dandelions have a lot of medicinal benefits if you consume them. So, hwR could be a character focused on health, especially in alternative ways. Thirdly, there’s the superstition that blowing on a dandelion will grant you a wish. I’d lean against this one because the dandelion isn’t… ripe(???) enough to be blown on yet, but the interpretation is still there.

The bunny symbol also has a lot of interpretations. As I listed out in the image, some options are good luck, longevity, opportunity, and adventure. The white rabbit is also a main character in Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland, which DRDTdev is clearly familiar with if the LGI MV is anything to go by. Generally, rabbits are also fast, cute, and known for multiplying. White rabbits seem to have generally positive connotations, which is a good sign for this character.

Other symbols include the crescent moon and sparkle type shapes, which seem to indicate nighttime or mystery. The symbol in hwR’s eyes is a spiral, which is also mysterious and could have to do with hypnosis. Apparently they also represent the circle of life, which could be suspicious…? Dying and living, killing games, and the like.

Anyways, with all this supernatural and superstitious imagery, I feel like the talent has to deal with something similar. I’m not exactly sure what to call it, or what the specific niche is. The one I wrote down in my notes was the Ultimate Alternative Medicine Practicioner, tying in the medicinal uses of dandelions and therapeutic uses of hypnotism. However, that title is a mouthful, and there are definitely other options. I sort of wanted the talent to just be someone who believes in spiritual practices, but given that a spiritualist is apparently someone who believes in talking to ghosts, the best name I could come up with for that was Ultimate Believer. hwR could also be something like an Ultimate Fortune Teller or a straight up Hypnotist, or a Lucky Student who really leans into the title. There are plenty of options, but I think it’s something in this genre.

This guy is fun! The fashion is pretty plain so there’s not a lot to work with, but I’ll give it my best shot.

As compared to 8CT (the one with the curly hair), Jfl at least has the very obvious symbol on their shirt to point us in the right direction. I’m pretty sure those are audio levels, which means that their talent probably combines something with sound with something with technology. I don’t know why they would need a lot of pockets or a hat with a visor for that, but hey, always good to be prepared.

The hat is pretty plain, but there is that green square on it. It may just be a large tab, as appears on many baseball caps to show off a logo. This one is blank, though, so it could be something else. It kind of looks like the press marker that appears on stereotypical reporter hats in, like, the 1920s, but those weren’t typically lime green, either (unless the black and white movies are fooling me hard).

The overall color scheme plus the fingerless gloves sort of make this character look like an Ultimate Hacker to me, but then I’m not sure what the connection to the audio levels are. They could also be something more like an Ultimate DJ, but the hat, jacket, and cargo pants make me feel like it’s something a little more active/outdoorsy. Thus, I’m going to go with the kinda-compromise that this character is the Ultimate Podcaster. In my mind, they would do some field reporting first (hence something that looks kind of like a reporter hat), and then come back to their home office and talk about it to publish in a podcast.

With my argument about the clothes feeling more outdoorsy, I have a few ideas for what the podcast could be about. The first is something along the lines of hunting cryptids. Jfl goes into the woods, looks around, and then reports their findings in, like, a ghost log. A little more in the realm of realism, Jfl could tail important figures around, either as a paparazzi-type person or someone who’s unraveling a conspiracy, and then release a report on them. That could also get Jfl involved in some kind of scuffle with XF-ture tech, which makes me lean more in that direction.

With the fish scales, knA is pretty obviously nautically coded. Their talent probably has something to do with water, but, in what way? Let’s look at the other details.

Just like Nico, knA has slit eyes. In Nico’s design, it was meant to make them look catlike, due to their profession as the Ultimate Pet Therapist. Similarly, 9lt has horizontal slit eyes, which are meant to make them look like a sheep. It seems like these elongated pupils are meant to make us think of animals, so knA’s talent probably heads in that direction. They also have a catlike mouth ( :3 ) and wear a collar, which (like Nico) makes them lean feline. Maybe it’s a catfish? Or maybe that’s more of a personality beat.

On the other hand, knA’s eye pattern has two circles in it, a larger one that goes around the long pupil and a smaller one that’s sort of hidden behind it. In context, this most reminded me of a sonar/radar system, which sailors use at sea to make sure they aren’t running into anything. Through that lens, the belt(?) that wraps around their leg reminded me of an anchor wrapped around a post. That’s kinda confirmation bias with the water thing, but it may have been intentional.

To be honest, I was really back and forth on whether to call this character the Ultimate Angler or the Ultimate Diver, but by the bolding, you can tell I settled on the former. I liked Ultimate Diver because it would place the character more among the fish (why they’re coded as an animal) as opposed to someone who catches them. But also, cats are known for catching fish, right? Plus, my interpretations of a sonar and an anchor would connect the character to a boat, which is less important for diving and more important for fishing.

Now this is the character that seems to be the talk of the town! And for good reason, too: they have a lot more recognizable imagery that specifically ties them to DRDT than anybody else.

First off, there’s the obvious XF-ture Tech logo, shaped like a hexagon, which appears on u1l’s jacket. That certainly connects them to the company in some way, whether they’re an employee or just someone who received some merch. This is extra interesting given that u1l wears the same pin that Min has on her design. In A History of Hope’s Peak, Min says she was sponsored by XF-Ture Tech, so maybe this guy was, too? It could be a kind of alternate company logo. Or it could have some kind of bug to listen in with. That’d be fun.

Otherwise, it’s pretty nondescript. They have regular eyes, a regular shirt, and a regular ol’ pink tie (other than the connection it may have to the Sleepy MV). The jacket is tied really weirdly at the bottom, kind of looking like a fish tail, but I think it’s a normal jacket. The boot design kind of reminded me of Xander’s, which could indicate that this character has to be prepared to run around.

Pinning down u1l’s talent is kinda hard because… honestly, I kinda feel like they’re just “Ultimate XF-Ture Tech Guy.” Like, they’re clearly connected to the company, and may be here as their representative. Thus, in my notes, I called this guy the Ultimate Technician.

A technician is “a worker in a field of technology who is proficient in the relevant field and technique, with a relatively practical understanding of the theoretical principles.” Is that vaguely tech-ish as hell? Yeah. Is XF-Ture a tech company that also does vague other things? Yeah. Ultimate Technician lets this u1l have a lot of skills yet not have to elaborate on it at all, which is something that I feel like they would enjoy. Just like how they might enjoy how all of us are chomping at the bit to learn more about them, and yet, we probably won’t hear anything for a while…

A very pretty addition to the cast! I love their vibes. Time to figure out what they mean.

There’s a lot here that signifies wealth. The crown hairpin is very obvious in that regard, as is the cape. Purple is often thought of as a color of royalty, and uBg is wearing a lot of it. Same with the cape– it’s an article of clothing often worn by kings. Their eye pattern contains a diamond within a circle. Diamonds are a jewel; wealth, royalty, etc.

This character also has some elements of promiscuity to them. Garter socks (which is what I think is what they’re wearing on their left leg?) are typically thought of as a sexually-charged thing to wear, and their other leg is fully exposed (oh my!). You can also see their bra peeking out from under their shirt, as well as some cleavage. Is this related to talent, or just to personality? I’m not sure.

While it’s tempting to go with something more along the lines of Ultimate Celebrity or Ultimate Heiress, I’m actually kind of partial to my interpretation of Ultimate Treasure Hunter. They wear a crown because it’s the treasure they’ve won, and there are diamonds in their eyes because that’s what they’re looking for! The cape could read as more of a heroic/adventurer thing, and the gloves also feel like ones belonging to someone more active. I’m aware this has nothing to do with the promiscuous aspects, but… like I said, that could just relate to personality! Plus, if you’re traveling the world searching for treasure, you might want a chance to tour the people, too.

Finally, we’ve returned to the probable sibling of 3Km, the potential Ultimate Wild Animal Tamer! If the similar color schemes and eye designs weren’t enough, the fact that their little chibis were obviously paired together makes it pretty obvious that they’re related. Assuming that everyone in this cast is the same age (18+), they would be twins.

However, I also want to propose that 3Km isn’t the only character XWu is “related” to. Remember how I mentioned that the XF-Ture logo was a hexagon? Well, the pattern in 3Km and XWu’s eyes is a hexagon. Could they also have a connection to XF-Ture tech, and thus, u1l? Maybe they’re part of the family who founded the company. It’s a big stretch, but it’s possible. Just wanted to bring it up.

Back to XWu, it’s interesting that they’re probably the twin of 3Km, ‘cause their designs are pretty opposite. While 3Km seems wild, XWu is very fancy. They have a chain, much like uBg; some boots that look sort of princely; and a very fancily-patterned vest. I didn’t notice while I was making my visual, but I think that the vest has snowflakes on it to mirror 3Km’s fire. Honestly, I don’t know if that means it’s more likely that it has something to do with their talents, or less…

I feel like XWu might have some kind of managerial talent. It could be something more business-y, related to XF-Ture Tech, or if 3Km is part of the circus, XWu could be, like, the Ultimate Ringleader. Leaning on the former, I settled for the Ultimate Business Consultant. I was thinking about 3Km going around the world taming animals or whatever, and XWu tagging along, making business connections and deals along the way. The “X” in their bangs makes me think that they might have a talent or personality that revolves around rejecting things. That could lean business leadership, so… yay?

-

And that’s that! To summarize, the cast of talents as I determined them were Ultimate Teacher, Ultimate Sharpshooter, Ultimate Wild Animal Tamer, Ultimate Stage Director, Ultimate Plush Maker, Ultimate Alternative Medicine Practicioner, Ultimate Podcaster, Ultimate Angler, Ultimate Technician, Ultimate Treasure Hunter, and Ultimate Business Consultant.

Obviously none of this is concrete, and I’m speculating based on very few details. I won’t be disappointed no matter what the talents are because, hey! We get more fangan content from DRDTdev either way! I feel like the Ultimate Winner with that fact.

I hope you all enjoyed reading this, and, if you have alternate interpretations or design elements I missed, I'd love to hear about them! I might make an update if we get any additional information any time soon.

[devilsskettle]

whenever i hear a song that i would like if it weren’t for the fact that it was too long, i think about this:

like you can afford to write tangentially if you/your music is already popular and you know that people are going to listen to you no matter what and in fact laud your longer pieces as being genius etc but can you really be releasing 5+ minute long songs without a built-in audience?

[c-rowlesdraws]

Hey tumblr.

I want to share a post from The Guardian that was published today.

“Inside the building, staffers said that Doge cultivated a culture of fear.

“It’s an extreme version of ‘who do you trust, when and how?’” said Kristina Drye, a speechwriter at the agency, who watched dozens of senior colleagues escorted out of the building by security. “It felt like the Soviet stories that one day someone is beside you and the next day they’re not.”

People started meeting for coffee blocks away because “they didn’t feel safe in the coffee shops here to even talk about what’s going on”, she added.

“I was in the elevator one morning and there was an older lady standing beside me and she had glasses on and I could see tears coming down under her glasses and before she got off her elevator she took her glasses off, wiped her eyes, and walked out,” she said. “Because if they see you crying, they know where you stand.””

Everyone should read this article about “DOGE” tearing apart USAID (and then read more reporting about how they are being allowed to do the same to other US federal entities). Elon Musk and his minions are violating our highest laws and destroying lives and livelihoods in the US and abroad. USAID is less than 1% of the federal budget— this isn’t about cost-cutting or “investigating fraud”. It’s about cruelty and seeing how much unlawful devastation and psychological warfare they can get away with, with the intention to repeat this process at one federal agency after another. They already have access to IT systems at the Treasury, NOAA, and other agencies, and have taken over OPM (essentially HR for the federal government), using the latter to send demeaning and threatening e-mail blasts to civil servants.

I’m urging everyone who reads this to recognize what’s happening here and how abhorrent and frightening it is. I wager that even most people who wanted Trump back didn’t want a centibillionaire technocrat making unilateral decisions on which parts of the federal government to “feed into the wood chipper” (as he has described his team’s actions at USAID in a recent post on X, The Everything App).

Please call your elected representatives and urge them to act against Musk now— before his actions make our legislative branch totally irrelevant.

I’ve been seeing posts about Musk’s coup-in-progress going around on here, but I feel like a lot of people still aren’t aware of the extent of it, and I really want to help get the word out. I’m heartsick for all the civil servants at USAID and beyond. Some of them, their unions, and some Democratic congresspeople and others are speaking out, but these workers need us everyday Americans to speak out for them, too.

Thank you for reading. And anyone who isn’t American, please keep us in your thoughts.

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

why didn't they just use franziska for literally all of this.

[tojicide]

JEALOU$Y. ☆ CALEB.

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦. at the end of the day, you and caleb are just childhood friends—nothing more, nothing less. so, when you mention going on a date, it’s totally logical that he wouldn’t care, right? if only that were the truth.

𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. fem! reader, current! caleb, zayne mention, jealousy, pet names, praise, oral ( fem. receiving ), cowgirl, unprotected p in v, creampie. 𝑤𝑐. 5.4k.

𝑛𝘰𝑤 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔. jealou$y — the neighbourhood.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

Doomsday has finally dawned upon Linkon City, though Caleb seems to be the only person truly affected by this catastrophe.

It was all his fault in the grand scheme of things. He hadn’t been clear enough, hadn’t shown the full extent of his feelings for you. But above all, he should have never offered Zayne those measly words of advice.

He should have known that the doctor had ulterior motives. Why else would he have called Caleb up one week ago to ask about you of all people?

It was a mean ploy, truly. Anyone and everyone knows about Caleb’s inability to shut up about you, his sole weakness was being exploited right in front of his eyes and he was none the wiser. The questions seemed harmless then. Posed as genuine curiosity, Caleb would have never been able to decipher the hidden intent behind each word that Zayne spoke into the receiver.

What are her days off? What does she do in her free time? You said that the restaurant around the corner from Akso Hospital was her favorite, yes?

In retrospect, he should have absolutely seen this coming. But then again, nothing could have ever prepared Caleb to hear those four life-altering words slipping from your lips.

“I have a date.”

A record scratches in his brain, forcing him to halt his steps for an abnormally long time before he slowly turns to face you. “You… what?”

Hearing the words repeated in that saccharine tone of yours only added salt to the wound, oddly enough. It physically pained him to ask for more information about your date, though he managed to hide his disdain with that boyish grin of his and a bit of lighthearted teasing.

But inside? That little green monster was stirring, and there was very little he could do to quell it.

Begrudgingly, he managed to get the key details before forcing himself to stow away in his bedroom and… think. Next Thursday. 6 PM. Maltosio Restaurant. With Zayne.

The next week passed by in an agonizingly slow fashion. It was as though each X that marked a passing day was a physical blow to his already aching heart, and those adorable images of the kittens on his calendar (the calendar that you picked out) did very little to help him.

Subtlety was never his strong suit, but then again, desperate times call for desperate measures. And believe Caleb when he says that he is very much desperate.

“Soo…” he’d drawl, leaning over the back of the couch to peer down at you. “I heard there’s a screening of that movie you’ve been wanting to see at the drive-in next Thursday. Wanna come with?”

You perked up like a ball of excitement, and for a moment, Caleb allowed himself to get his hopes up, but your frown quickly dissipated them. “Next Thursday? Oh, no, I can’t make it! I’m going out with Zayne, remember?”

Of course he remembered. That was exactly why he hadn’t let up—not even once—in his attempts to distract you just enough to make you forget all about your dinner plans. He could take you out for a nice dinner too. Say, that’s actually a good idea…

The next day, Caleb tried that one.

“Oh, pip-squeak,” he sang, his airy voice ringing through your apartment as he walked down the hallway. “I got us reservations at the restaurant in Skyhaven that you’ve been itchin’ to check out.”

You perked up, just like you did before. “Really?”

He nodded with a triumphant grin, internally patting himself on the back for his own good idea. “Mm-hmm. Next Thursday. Got us those window seats you wanted too—the ones that overlook the city.”

And once again, your gaze softened, and an all-too-adorable pout tugged at the corners of your mouth. “Oh, Caleb, I’m sorry. I’m busy that day.”

You really are too sweet for your own good. He can’t even blame Zayne for taking an interest in you, he’d be downright shocked if any man with two seeing eyes had the audacity to not think that you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Caleb sure does. He always has. He always will.

It wasn’t long before the day of reckoning was upon him. Thursday evening. Sunlight cut through the blinds in the living room, casting golden hues across the vast space. Much to his dismay, the trashy reality television you’d left on the screen did very little to soothe his worries.

He fidgeted with the dog chains you’d gifted him, his thumb brushing along the gift that you had so kindly given him. It was a testament to your bond. A bond that something as trivial as a single evening apart couldn’t tamper with… right?

“Caleb!” Your antsy voice cut through the air, forcing his wandering mind to snap back to reality.

He was up and down the hallway before you could even say another word, pressing a flat hand to your door to nudge it open. It was then that he saw you, all dolled up in your robe with your favorite dresses laid out on your bed.

Your hands grasp onto two of the hangers, holding them up side-by-side to help him get a better look at them. Though, his eyes were noticeably distracted, contorted in an unfamiliar lovesick expression as they pierced into yours. “Quick! Which do you think is cuter?”

Caleb blinks—once, twice, three times—until he forces himself to finally look down at the dress options in your grasp. He’d seen you wear them plenty of times before, and the thought of someone else seeing you in such beautiful fabric nearly made his stomach lurch.

He raises his forearm, leaning against the doorframe as he rubs the back of his neck. “Oh, c’mon, that’s an impossible choice. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.”

It was a typical response, one that you were expecting, though his lack of advice made you hmph as you lost yourself in your thoughts. “Well… I hear polka dots symbolize happiness and stripes symbolize slipping between realms. Pretty interesting stuff, huh?”

“Very interesting,” he says, the corner of his mouth tugging up at the mere sound of your voice. “Is that why you buy so many things in those patterns?”

You quirk an eyebrow, confusion etching into your expression. “Huh? What else do I buy that’s…” It quickly dawns on you, and you can feel heat creep up your neck and reach your face. “You’re a jerk.”

Caleb can’t help but laugh, taking a few steps into the room so that he can properly look at each and every one of the dress options laid out on your bed. “What’s the matter? If I remember correctly, someone was beggin’ me to do her laundry. Somethin’ about the laundry machine being sooo far and your feet hurting sooo bad.”

Huffing and far too flustered for your own good, you shake your head. “Well… well I didn’t realize you were so observant.”

He clicks his tongue, absentmindedly pinching your side as he leans down to rest his chin in the dip of your shoulder. “Tsk. You know I’m always observant when it comes to you. Even if it’s remembering something as trivial as the patterns of your cute little undies.”

You swat him away. “You’re so annoying!”

To that, he can only chuckle, giving your sides a brief squeeze before taking a few steps back. “Alriiight, alright, I’ll leave you alone.” Before exiting the room entirely, he hangs onto the doorframe, giving you a soft smile. “I’m serious though. You’ll look beautiful no matter what you wear.” His lips curve into a smirk. “But if you want my input—you know I’ve always been a sucker for seeing you in florals.”

And with that, he whisks away, silently hoping and praying that this date will fall through on its own. Plopping back down on the couch, his eyes are practically glued to his watch. 5:48 PM. It wouldn’t be long before Zayne would be knocking at the front door—punctual as ever. Oh, it made him sick.

How could he have done this? To you, to himself? Caleb should be ashamed. He should be the one sitting across from you later tonight, holding your hand and listening to you ramble about whatever your heart desires. It should be him. It would have been him if he wasn’t so damn afraid.

But the sound of approaching heels clicking along the hardwood floor quickly snapped him out of his pity party, prompting him to look over his shoulder. And there you were once again, now adorned in a floral sundress that had made him lose his mind more times than he’d like to admit.

Under his breath, he can’t help but mutter, “Yeah, you’re gonna kill me…”

It was his favorite dress of yours, too. You really were trying to kill him. A white dress that was littered with blue flowers, the fabric fit you perfectly, loose and fitted in all of the right places.

Zayne didn’t deserve to see you like this. Plain and simple.

Standing from the couch, he lets out a low, appreciative whistle. “There she is,” he says, taking your hand to spin you around a single time. His smile only widens as he sees yours. “You look gorgeous, just like I knew you would.”

You roll your eyes with a bashful smile, one that he has to physically fight the urge to kiss away. “Oh, you flatter me,” you say through a laugh.

He shakes his head, bringing a hand up to gently smooth down a pesky hair on the top of your head. “Can’t be flattery if I mean every word of it.”

A breeze wafted through the open window, blowing the fabric of your dress ever so slightly. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers infiltrates the living room, though the scent of your perfume and something that was uniquely you had his full attention.

“Y’know, you can be pretty nice when you want to be,” you say, raising an eyebrow.

Chuckling, he simply nods, his large hands settling on your middle. “Yeah. When I want to be.”

You brush past him, padding over to the back door. Pushing it open, you step out onto the warm concrete patio, breathing in the fresh air that the backyard had to offer you. Spring in Linkon was always a delight, though the warmth that Caleb radiates behind you serves to be the most comforting thing about the entire scene.

His hand comes to rest on the curve of your shoulder, his fingers nimbly pulling at one of the straps of your dress. With his heart rate shooting through the roof, he forces himself to take a moment. He needs to get this right. This may be the last chance he’ll be able to do this.

“I… look, there’s something that I—”

But suddenly, the sound of rapping knuckles at the front door cuts through the tense silence. Both of your attention is drawn to the closed door, and having left the back door open, you both have a clear view of it.

You turn around to face Caleb, offering him a sheepish smile. “That’s probably Zayne.”

He only nods, forcing his hand to fall back to his side. “Yeah, probably.”

This was it. He was losing you. It stung to know that this was no one’s fault apart from his own. His inability to be honest about his feelings, his lack of forwardness with you… what was he expecting? That you’d never date? That he could keep you happy forever without offering you anything more?

It was a stupid fantasy, one that had earned him this spot. But when he saw you turn to leave, your eyes still locked on his, a surge of panic shot up his spine. His eyes flit around—the grass, the flowerbeds, the hose… that was currently filling up the pool…

“Be mad at me later,” he suddenly says.

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Wha— ah!”

Before you could even begin to process what was happening, you were suddenly pushed back into the chamber full of chlorine infested water. Caleb watches with a wry expression as you shoot up from beneath the water, splashing aimlessly as you swim towards the edge.

“What the fuck was that?” you bark, perching one elbow up onto the concrete as you reach the other one out to him. “What the hell are you looking at? Help me out!”

Caleb can’t even protest, not with the incredibly irrational stunt he’d just pulled. “I’m sorry, pip-squeak, I just…” And so, he reaches down, his hand clasping around yours… until you pull him forward with all of your strength and send him tumbling into the pool too.

And when he comes up for air, you splash him the moment he opens his eyes. Serves him right. The chlorine will sting his eyes almost as much as your mascara is stinging yours right now.

With that, you pull yourself out of the pool, a trail of water marking your path as you wring out the fabric of your dress. After that, you disappear inside of the house, leaving Caleb to rub his eyes in utter defeat.

He gives you both a long stretch of alone time before he retreats back into the house like a kicked puppy, his head hanging low as he runs a hand through his wet strands of hair. You’ve evidently told Zayne that today wasn’t going to work anymore, judging by his lack of presence, and that thought alone makes Caleb more happy than he should be.

Sucking in a short breath, he knocks twice at your shut bedroom door. “Honey? It… it’s me.”

“Go away,” you retort without missing a single beat.

Caleb pokes his tongue into his cheek as he leans forward, resting his forehead on the cool surface of your bedroom door. “C’mon. Just… talk to me.”

It doesn’t take long before the door is swung open, revealing an incredibly angry version of you with a freshly cleaned face. He opens his mouth to speak, to apologize, to try and rectify the situation in any way he can, but you beat him to it. Quickly.

“How dare you?” you spit, jabbing your index finger into his chest. “What was that, Caleb? Are we ten years old again? Your method of communication is… is pushing me into the damn pool?”

He sighs, catching your hand to unfold your closed fingers. “You’re right. I’m sorry, I—”

“No!” you cut him off, sticking your other index finger into his chest. “It’s your turn to listen. You’ve been my best friend for as long as I can remember, you’re all I’ve ever known, all I’ve ever wanted. Do you know how it feels to have everything you want dangled in front of you for so many years, and… and just torn away? Time and time again?”

Caleb is rendered speechless, his brows furrowed in both confusion and a sense of odd relief as you unleash all of the thoughts that you’ve kept hidden for so long. He doesn’t bother catching your other hand, instead, he allows you to repeatedly jab at his chest. It hurts, but he can handle it. Just like he can handle the words you’re saying.

“So, you know what? I decided that enough was enough!” you continue, your index finger pressing wildly into the hard planes of his chest. “I wasn’t going to wait around, I wasn’t going to pretend, I was going to move on! And… and I was going to!”

He tilts his head, his amethyst eyes growing fuzzy as he looks down at you. “Was going to?”

You huff, eyes narrowing as you jab your finger into his chest for a final time before turning away from him. “Well, I’m not exactly going on a date anymore, am I?”

Caleb nods, though you can’t see it. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze tracing your silhouette through the soaked fabric of your dress. Sighing, he straightens off the wall, but before he can turn away, you spin around to face him.

“And you know what else?” you huff. “You know the solution to this problem just as well as I do.”

He nods his head with a single jerk of his chin, beckoning you to continue. “Yeah? What’s that?”

You step closer, and for the final time, you stab your finger into his pec. “You need to grow a pair.”

Inhaling deeply, all he can do is smile. It infuriates you and he knows it, but he just can’t help himself. He takes both of your wrists and tugs you forward until your chest presses against his own, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek.

You’re slowly simmering down, the heat of your outburst dissipating as your skin cooled. With your eyebrows still furrowed, all you can do is look up at him, daring him to speak. To do anything.

“Are you still mad at me?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your bottom lip.

Swallowing thickly, you nod. “A little.”

He slowly nods his head, his fingers curving along your jaw before he cups your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. “Is there anything I can do to help with that?”

You can feel his breath fan along your lips, cool and minty and just about everything you could have ever fantasized about on your own. You part your lips to reply, but this time, Caleb is the one who beats you to it.

“We’re making puddles all over the floor, you know.”

Glancing down, you see the truth in his words. The pool water dripped from your respective clothing and gathered around the two of you, making a wry smile find your lips.

“Oh,” you breathe, “I didn’t even notice.”

“I like to think I’m pretty observant when it comes to you,” he murmurs, smoothing his free hand along your side until it grasps onto the fabric of your dress. “Need some help with this?”

You look up, meeting his gaze once more. “With… with what?”

“Well,” he drawls, his fingertips brushing along your outer thigh as he slowly drags the fabric upward. His movements are hesitant and cautious, his eyes flickering between each of yours. “You’re wet. I’m wet. Maybe we can… help each other dry off.”

Your eyelids falter as they flit between his, your gaze instinctively falling to the plush curve of his bottom lip. “Okay,” you murmur.

A smile tugs at his mouth. “Okay. Arms up.”

Slowly, you lift your arms above your head. His hands work together to slowly push the fabric of your dress up and over your head, letting it slip onto the floor with a wet plop.

His breath is nearly torn from his lungs the moment he sees your bare skin, so beautiful and soft and made to be his. Hesitantly, his fingertips trace the curve of your hips with a sense of reverence.

“Do you need help too?” you ask, your voice breathy from the restrained sense of need that has come over you.

Pausing his exploration of your bare skin, Caleb finds himself nodding, almost immediately lifting his arms over his head. “Please.”

And now, you take the opportunity to do the same. Slowly, you peel his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aimlessly into the laundry hamper near the door. Your gaze traces over the defining lines of his abdomen, your touch doing the same as it trails southward.

His lower stomach tenses up as your fingers brush against the hem of his jeans. He can’t help the way his eyes flutter shut, the way a touch so simple can nearly bring him to his knees. Breathing shakily, he leans down to rest his forehead on yours.

“Careful,” he breathes in warning, his voice taking on a raspy tone.

You almost startle at the unfamiliarity of his voice, though you push your hesitation aside as your thumb brushes over the button of his pants. “But… these are wet too.”

A huff of air leaves his mouth, the sound something between a low laugh and a groan. He forces his eyes open, his stare meeting your own. “Trying to get me naked before our first kiss? I have to say, you’re full of surprises.”

Faltering, your hands fall away from his pants. “You’re right, I… I’m—”

Caleb can’t help but chuckle, taking a hold of your hands to bring them right back to where they were before. This time, he guides your fingers through the motion of unbuttoning his pants. “Kidding,” he whispers against your lips. “Besides… we’re good at multitasking, yeah?”

You’re nodding before you can truly process his words. “Yeah.”

His lips crash onto yours with a groan that omits from deep within, the button of his jeans finally popping open from your ministry. The zipper went next, tugged down along with the fabric entirety until he was left in only his boxers.

His hands roam your curves greedily, eating up every inch of skin that he has deprived himself of for far too long. Your waist, your hips, your thighs—he needs to feel you in any way possible.

And you return his eagerness so well, wrapping your arms around his neck as you draw him in even closer. His hands worked quickly, hoisting you up until your legs wrapped around his waist as he walked the both of you over to your bed.

Laying you down on the mattress, he takes the initiative to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping along your bottom lip to gain access that you readily give him. He can’t help but moan into your mouth, the sweet taste of your tongue tangling with his own forcing his brain to short circuit in a way he’s never experienced before.

You kissed him like there was no tomorrow, and he was loving every second of it. Your hands fisted into his hair while your lips moved in tandem with his, a soft whimper leaving your mouth as his hands gave your hips a firm squeeze.

His lips trail down your jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your neck and the curve of your shoulder as he uses his grip on your hips to pull you flush against him. A gasp leaves you at the feeling of his erection pressing against your clothes sex, the friction so delicious that it makes butterflies erupt in your stomach.

Caleb is so far gone, kissing his way along your arms, your neck, your sternum, all up until he reaches the valley of your breasts. He wastes very little time there, licking a trail to your nipple before sucking the peak into his mouth. His other hand palms at your other breast, kneading the soft flesh in his palm.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes against your skin, his hips rocking forward as he switches sides, latching onto your neglected breast and giving it a hard suck. “So beautiful.”

His descent continues as he mouths at the soft skin of your belly, your hips, your inner thighs. His eyes depart from yours as they settle onto the fabric covering your cunt, and a grin stretches across his face. Polka dots.

You scoff, softly shoving his shoulder. “Don’t even say it.”

Chuckling, he leans in to press a kiss on the damp patch of fabric. “Wasn’t gonna say anything, baby.”

His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aimlessly. His lips press feverish kisses to your ankles, your calves, your inner thighs, and eventually, the mound of your pussy.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he whispers into your heat, hiking your legs up and over his shoulders and he pulls your sex closer to his mouth. “So damn worth it.”

A cry leaves you as his tongue delves in deep between your legs, his eyes slipping shut as he lets out an unabashed whimper into your sex. His grip on your thighs only tightens, keeping your legs spread apart as they threaten to press in on his head.

He wouldn’t have that. He couldn’t. He needed to have you in the way that he’s dreamt of for so long, in the way that he’s thought of time and time again as he fucked his own fist to the thought of you. It was filthy, it was lewd, but it was honest.

You tasted better than he could have ever imagined, his tongue eagerly lapping at your inner walls before his lips sealed around your puffy clit, sucking hard enough to make your back bow off the plush mattress.

The stimulation is leaving you feeling overwhelmed, your hands pushing into his hair as your trembling thighs test the strength of his grip. You whine, eyes slipping shut as your head tilts back against the pillows.

“It— it’s too much—”

“Be good,” he finds himself saying, pulling you right back to his mouth as he continues to feast on your pussy like a man starved. “You can take it, baby.” Caleb cracks open his eyes, sucking harshly onto your clit before releasing it with a wet pop. “Go on, pretty girl. Say it.”

You whine, though you hardly have the brain power to say anything else apart from what he’s asked of you. “I… I can take it,” you breathe.

He smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your sensitive pearl before nipping at it. “There you go.”

It doesn’t take much longer for your legs to begin to tremble once more, your body writhing in his grasp as he sets you any way but loose. Your hips buck up, a final resort for reprieve as he works you over the edge.

Caleb redoubled his efforts, spreading your thighs even wider. Soon, the warmth pooling in your lower stomach was far too much to bear, far more intense than anything you had ever experienced before.

“I’m… I’m coming,” you gasp out, hands gripping tightly onto his dark locks of hair.

And when you do, his flattened tongue laps at your honeyed release. He works you through your high, his movements eventually slowing down as the twitching of your hips gradually calms.

He pulls off of you with a wet pop, pressing soft kisses to your swollen clit. “You’re perfect,” he whispers, pressing another peck on your mound before he moves back up your body once more to slot his lips against yours.

You can taste yourself on his tongue, and it only spurs you on further. Your hands grasp onto his shoulders, and in one swift motion, you flip him onto his back. Caleb looks up at you with a starry-eyed expression, but when you straddle his hips and sit in his lap, he has no words of protest. None at all.

“You really are full of surprises,” he says, running his hands along the warm skin of your thighs.

Tugging him free from his boxers, he helps you remove them from his body, leaving you both entirely bare together. He sits up, his back pressing against the headboard as he tugs you closer to him.

“I need you,” he whispers, pressing a longing kiss on your stomach as you shift to straddle him once more. “Please, baby.”

You gaze down at him, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Please what?”

He leans into your touch, his hands settling onto your waist as he pulls you lower, the head of his cock pressing against your pussy. “Make yourself feel good. Please.”

Caleb’s own cheeks were flushed with a rosy hue, both from the embarrassment that his own lack of experience brought upon him and the reality of finally having the love of his life in such an intimate way. His amethyst eyes search your face, as if searching for a permission that he didn’t know how to ask for.

Dipping your head, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Simultaneously, you swivel your hips until the tip of his length catches your entrance. You slowly lower yourself, feeling the way his cock stretches you out, filling you up in a way that only he can.

He smiles at you, cupping your cheek with his hand. Brushing a thumb over your bottom lip, he kisses you gently. “You feel so good,” he whimpers into your mouth, his other hand resting on your hip as you roll your hips in a way that has his breath hitching in his throat. “So fucking perfect.”

Your movements are timid at first, consisting of a slow and meticulous rocking of your hips. His cock stuffed you full, his tip kissing the deepest points of your inner walls with ease, earning a muffled whimper from your mouth that his lips swallowed up eagerly.

Caleb’s hands grasped tightly onto your hips, helping you set a pace that had the both of you losing your mind. He leans backward, his head tilting against the headboard as it slams against the wall with each intense grind of your hips.

“Good girl, give it to me how you like it,” he breathes, eyes cracking open to watch the way you look down at him as you work yourself on his length. “Use me however you need me, baby, there you go.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling him in for a longing kiss. “I… you— you feel so…” you stammer, leaning forward to rest your head on his shoulder as you lose yourself on his cock.

He nods his head in agreement, turning his head to press a kiss on your damp cheek as he gently pets your hair. “I know, I know.”

You lose yourself all together, your legs shaking as you tighten your hold on him. “Caleb!” you moan.

His hips help you the rest of the way, his grip on your hips keeping you firmly planted as he meets your movements with thrusts of his own. “I know it, baby, I’ve got you,” he pants through a smile, guiding you through a few more fleshed out grinds on his lap. “Atta girl, use those hips.”

His arms wrap around you entirely, crushing you against the hard planes of his chest as you slowly ride the both of you through your shared orgasm. In that moment, in your house, in this space that belonged to you and Caleb alone—the two of you became one.

Heavy breathing and hammering heartbeats is all that consumes the two of you for a long while, skin to skin with far too much bliss brewing in your chests for either of you to handle alone.

Huffing softly, Caleb runs a hand up your side. “You okay in there?” he asks, turning his head to pepper soft kisses along your cheek. “C’mon, I need some proof of life.”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “Shut up, give me a second.”

He merely smiles, wrapping his arms around your middle once more as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Thirty seconds after finishing and you’re already mean. “There’s my girl.”

Caleb’s hands smooth over the soft planes of your back, giving your hips a soft squeeze as he revels in the feeling of your heartbeat drumming against his own. He can’t help himself from pressing a few kisses on the top of your head, his arms opting to wrap even tighter around you.

“I love—” he cuts himself off, eyes widening dazedly. Would that be too much? A confession of his undying love not long after ruining your date and making love with you for the first time? After a stretch of awkward silence, he kisses your head once more. “I love… cuddling with you. You’re so soft.”

You smile, nuzzling even closer to his chest, your nose brushing against skin. “Mm, I love you too, Caleb.”

His eyes widened, though he knows that communicating his confusion is futile. You knew him so well, too well.

“You do?” he whispers, turning his head just enough to look down at you.

In response to that, you nod. “Mm-hmm. I’ll love you even more if you tell me that you didn’t cancel those dinner reservations.”

Caleb smiles, running a hand over your hair. As if he’d given up his last ditch effort to take you out. “You know I didn’t.”

𝑛𝘰𝘵𝑒. rip zayne i still love you king!!! also i actually don’t really know how to write for caleb… so… i hope this didn’t suck! this is the only fic that managed to break my intense writer’s block that i’ve had for the past two months. reblog/comment if you enjoyed, i appreciate you reading so much <3

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ✧ masterlist | request

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Once again tumblr is silencing my voice by not letting me add more than 30 tags. Okay the rest of what I was going to say is that if you gave him an assignment that was simple and out of the way enough, even upstairs, he might be able to stick it out for a couple hours. Another factor that determines how long that might be is where this is happening. Is he at Brinkley Court? Then Aunt Dahlia and the other servants (whom he seems to be on good terms with) will cover for him. No matter what he screws up, “oh, that’s Barry! He’s just new here!” Jeeves might be able to work something similar at a different manor house (presuming Bertie’s face isn’t already known there) if he’s on good terms with any of the servants there. They might agree to take Bertie under their wing as a favor to Jeeves. It also depends on whether Jeeves himself is there to help him, whether they’re working in the same area of the house, and if they’re able to inconspicuously pull each other aside to confer.

In conclusion: can’t answer question, too many variables

[bi-writes]

Thinking about going into labor while your partner is on the way somewhere unimportant, who refuses to come home to help you. And instead of being alone and scared, you hang up and call up one of your childhood friends everyone thought you'd wind up with. Kyle shows up at your door, furious but does his best to hide it, and helps you through it all. Next day the father of your child has the audacity to show up like nothing is wrong to see Kyle holding your baby so you can take a well deserved nap.

he picks up on the third ring. you tremble, gripping the edge of the porcelain tub. when you finally hear his voice, just the sound of him soothes your beating heart, just a little.

"'ello, love."

"kyle?" you sniffle. his background quiets a bit. you hear a door close, and then he's a bit louder.

"hey, love. what's wrong? you sound upset."

"my water broke," you hiccup. "a-and i...i was in the bath...i-i..." you close your eyes. "i can't get out of the tub."

"jesus fucking christ." you whimper, but kyle just hums. "not you, baby. hey, you just relax, alright? you said you were in the bath. just relax, and i'll be there soon."

"kyle--"

"don't be scared," kyle chuckles, and you whine a little. "hey, you're gonna have a baby. you've been waiting for this, yeah? haven't you?"

"y-yeah..."

"aren't you excited? you always tell me how much you can't wait, right?"

"yeah..."

"don't be scared," kyle repeats. "you just relax. be happy. she's coming today!"

you smile, wiping your face a little, and when kyle hears your giggle, he sighs.

"good girl. you sit tight."

so you do. you lean against the side of the tub, and you rest in the warm water as you stare at your phone screen.

he won't answer the phone. he hasn't read your texts. he's not coming.

you hear the front door open and close, and then there's a gentle knock on the bathroom door. when kyle comes in, you try to cover up, moving your hands over your tits, embarrassed, but kyle just goes to look for a clean towel to help you out.

"it's okay, love, i won't look," kyle tells you. he smiles at you, cupping your face gently, and you look into his dark eyes. "you look so pretty. you're glowin', y'know that?" you smile through gentle tears, putting a hand over your belly, and you try to move, but it's no use. kyle drops the towel, kneeling, and you shake your head.

"i-i can't get out--" you gasp, and kyle rolls up his sleeves over his thick forearms, putting the towel over his shoulder before he reaches for you.

"it's alright. i'll get you out. i'll try not to look, okay?"

"i'm so embarrassed...i'm so sorry, kyle..." you sniffle.

"don't apologize, love. i got it. give me your hands, put 'em around me."

you lift up your wet arms, wrapping them around his neck. you press your chest against his, and he picks you up as you stand, helping you to your feet. as you cup your belly, he wraps the towel around you, covering you, and then he holds your hand as you step out of the tub.

"alright. now where's your bag, darling?"

kyle grabs your bag and supplies as you get dressed in your room. as you pull your socks on, kyle comes up behind you, smoothing your hair down your back before he starts to braid it. he used to braid your hair all the time when you were kids--he always said he wanted to practice for his sisters.

"you got the car seat, kyle?" you ask as he holds your hand, and he nods.

"mhm. in the car already."

"a-and the diaper bag?"

"in the boot."

"my extra clothes? and my...my stuff?"

"mhm. i got it, love. and whatever you forgot, i'll get it for you. alright, up, buckle in, that's a girl."

he holds your hand the entire way. you groan softly when a particularly painful contraction hits you, but when you squeeze kyle's hand, all he does is squeeze back. you take deep breaths, leaning your head back, and he hums.

"you're doing so well, love. so well."

"why..." your eyes water. you squeeze his hand again, and when you look down, your vision is blurry from your tears. "why didn't he answer? w-why...why doesn't he...w-why would he..."

"don't worry your pretty head about tha', love," kyle interrupts you gently. "only thing you need to worry about is you and her. i got it."

"o-okay."

she's beautiful. she looks more like you than her father, and kyle counts that blessing. she's got your eyes, your nose, your hair. her cheeks belong to her father, but she might as well be your twin, and when kyle takes her from you later that night, rocking her gently, he can really see up close how much she looks like you.

in the middle of the night, kyle holds your hand as you get up to go to the bathroom. your entire body is tender and sluggish, but kyle keeps you upright as you walk, kissing your head gently as he helps you take a seat on the toilet.

he even gets your underwear set up for you, with the big pad and everything, and he helps you step into it and slips them up and over your hips. you're a tearful mess as he does this, but kyle just presses his forehead against yours.

the look in his eyes, you will never forget it. the intensity. the commitment. the stability. every time you pick up the phone, kyle answers, and sometimes he's thousands of miles away. your own boyfriend can't even have the decency to answer when you're nine months pregnant--what did he fucking think the call was going to be about?

back in your room, kyle fits into the bed with you. he lets your rest your head on his chest, and when you ask him if he's going to go home, he tells you this is close enough.

in the morning, kyle's sitting outside your room with the baby. he's holding her, touching her little nose, letting you sleep in. you had a rough night, and when he found you still with your eyes closed that morning, he figured he would let you keep sleeping, just for an extra hour or so.

you deserve it.

"is that her?"

kyle's head turns with a snap. standing there, hands shoved deep in his pockets, is your pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. not man enough to answer the phone when you most needed him, not strong enough to do the right thing and marry you, and not wise enough to realize all he had to do was take care of you, and the world would be right again. you're not greedy. you don't ask for anything. all you want is to love and be loved, and kyle doesn't think that's too much to ask for, kyle thinks you're one of the most selfless women he's ever known, so why does this fucking bastard of a man get to call himself this girl's father?

kyle looks back down, fixing the blanket over your daughter's neck carefully. he thinks he did pretty good swaddling her this time, but you might have an opinion on it.

"i'm gonna say somethin', mate," kyle says lowly. "'n after i say it, y'r gonna do some thinking, real thinking."

he laughs a little, shaking his head.

"why don't you give me my baby, and get the fuck outta 'ere?"

kyle looks up and snickers, shaking his head. he gets a better grip on your daughter, sitting back, and he fixes your ex with a sinister smile.

"and what if i don't? you gonna take her from me?" kyle chuckles. "i'd love to see you try."

he stands, raising a brow.

"listen here, and listen close." kyle takes a step closer to him. "you're a right pile of shit comin' here thinking that you can just waltz right in and be daddy of the year, alright? what kind of man are you, eh? your girl in need, callin' you, and you don't even have the fuckin' balls to answer her? take a good look at your kid, mate, cause it's the last time you're ever gonna see her."

"no, i have the right--"

"to fuck right off," kyle snaps. "if i see you near her or her daughter ever again, i'll find you, and i'll make it worth your while, mate. make you feel real sorry finally, y'hear me? 'n when i take her back home, all of your junk better be out the flat. otherwise, i'll fucking burn it."

"kyle?"

your voice pulls him away. kyle adjusts the baby in his arm, going back inside, and he shuts the door behind him, finding your eyes. you reach for the baby, arms outstretched, and kyle easily sets her down in them, watching as you cradle the tiny thing into the crook of your neck and stroke the back of her neck.

the nurses come in and drop off a few papers. one stops, looking at kyle, giving him a big smile.

"congratulations," she tells him, and he smiles back at her. she takes a seat next to him, holding out a clipboard. "do you think i could get a few details? i just need to know mum's name, baby's name--"

kyle gives it to her. your birthplace. your birthday. your name. your baby's name. then she flips a paper over, putting her pen down.

"and dad's name?" she asks.

kyle sighs, leaning back in his chair. they don't give out birth certificates right away. you have to request it. you won't find out, not just yet, maybe he'll even pick it up for you. you'll be much too busy being mummy dearest.

"kyle," he tells her, flashing her that big smile. she blushes a little, writing it down. "kyle garrick."

he looks back at where you are, your eyes on him. you smile shyly when your eyes meet, and kyle leaves the nurse to come up to you and drape a hand behind your head. he strokes along your hair gently, thumbing at your temple.

"i heard you outside, kyle."

"did you?"

"and i heard you just now."

"mm."

you blink, reaching for the edge of his shirt, and you pull him down, further, until his face is nearly against yours.

"i guess i shouldn't be surprised," you say softly, reaching up to smooth a a few knuckles down his cheek. he leans into it, licking his lips, and you bite your lip. "you've always had a habit of...taking what doesn't belong to you, huh?"

kyle laughs. always the pretty boy, ever since you were little. one smile from him--kyle could get away with anything. anything at all.

"who says you don't belong to me?"

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats

Aegon ii Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

“I can’t be ‘Aegon the Magnanimous.’ No one knows what Magnanimous means.” Aegon drawls, slumped over in his throne. The hour is late and there are many places he’d rather be. Namely with his beloved wife, who he’s scarcely seen, since taking on his duties. Their children will already be asleep, but if they wrap things up here soon, he may have a few moments with Y/N before bed.

“Aegon the dragon cock.” One of the piss drunk men raises his cup to the king.

“That’s more like it,” Aegon claps his hands together.

The men hoot and holler at the name. Dissolving into laughter.

“Speaking of,” Aegon rises to his feet, “I must get back to my wife. I did not wed her to admire from afar.” Aegon tosses back the remainder of his wine, throwing his gauntlet down beside the throne. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

He wastes no time, taking the stairs two at a time up to his chambers. His queen is already abed, waiting up for him with a bit of light reading. “What story is that now, my dearest love?” Aegon asks, pulling off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.” Y/N bends it open at the spine, setting the bound pages on the bedside table.

“Seems a bit morbid.” Aegon frowns, “especially in these times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you have something better in mind, your grace?”

Aegon doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice. “You are my equal, here of all places. Don’t do this to me, please. Do not ice me out, I cannot bear it.”

Y/N sighs, crossing both arms over her chest. “Helaena is frightened of the rats. I’ve been looking into their behaviors and customs.”

Aegon flops onto the mattress, unceremoniously. “The rats?”

Y/N nods, “to be honest, I’m not particularly fond of them either. Although, they are interesting.”

“No vermin shall touch you so long as I live, darling girl. The only thing nibbling your toes will be me.” He wiggles his foot against hers for emphasis.

Y/N huffs a laugh. Allowing the silence between them to hang heavy.

“I am sorry about your brother.” Aegon says, despite ordering his own brother, Aemond, away at the news and holding her through sobs, he’s yet to say the words. “I cannot stand your suffering. It’s made it nearly impossible to be away from you to perform my duties.”

Y/N brings his hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles.

“I want you to attend the petitions,” he decides. “At my side, in my lap, seated directly on my cock; whatever suits you.”

“Directly on your cock?” Y/N chortles, “your mother would have my head.”

“She will do no such thing, you are queen. You may do as you wish.”

“You spoil me,” that’s what everyone says anyway.

“You’re mine to spoil. They’re jealous is all.”

“Shall we practice then? For the hearings?”

“If you wish.” Aegon rolls onto his back, sliding both arms behind his head.

Y/N grins, devilishly as she slides off his clothes, allowing his cock to spring free. Her own nightgown and small clothes follow before she swings a leg over his hips and slides down his length.

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

His wife leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“A tenth of my flock has been taken, your grace.” Aegon tells her, repeating one of the smallfolk’s concerns.

“Your what?” Y/N blinks at him.

“Sheep,” he continues, “a tenth of them gone, taken by your guard, just before winter. What say you, my queen?”

“Give them back.” Y/N sighs as his hands finally land on her hips, guiding her movements.

“That’s what I said,” Aegon hums, thrusting up to meet her.

“Did they listen?”

“No.” Aegon purses his lips, “they might need them to feed the dragons.”

“It’s much harder to concentrate this way, my king.”

“I know,” he coos, “but you’re doing so well.”

“The dragons,” Y/N pants, “have never required sheep from the smallfolk before.”

“We have never been to war.” Aegon says, through gritted teeth as she clenches around him.

“My mother will want revenge for Lucerys.”

“And I want this matter resolved peacefully.” Aegon assures her, “still I cannot give my brother up for the slaughter.”

“I don’t see how this can end peacefully now,” Y/N laments, feeling the coil in her belly tighten. “It will end in fire and blood.”

“What would you have me do?”

Y/N shakes her head, “We must stop Aemond from claiming Harrenhal at the least.”

“Consider it done.” Aegon beckons her down for a kiss.

The clatter of metal against the floor breaks them apart, “what was that?” Y/N’s eyes search the room.

“Twas only the wind, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles up at his wife.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “No. Something is wrong.”

“I agree,” Aegon takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to a taut peak. “You stopped moving.”

“Aegon,” she warns, “please.”

“Shhh,” he gentles her back to a steady grind. “I’m here. You are safe.”

Y/N offers a shaky smile. Still something seems amiss, though she can’t think much more about it with Aegon’s free hand toying with her pearl.

“Cum on my cock, then we will look into it, if you feel so inclined.”

Y/N nods, bouncing faster, harder. Trying to ignore the worry twisting at her gut.

Aegon’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“More than anyone or anything, save for our children. I want you to remember that…always.”

Y/N nods, feeling herself teetering on the precipice. “I-” she wants to say it back, only her brain doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hush, sweetheart.” Aegon groans, because he knows. Rubbing his fingers harshly against her pearl to push her over the edge. Shaking and crying her release as she milks his cock. “Good girl.” Aegon fills her pulsing cunt with his spend.

She leans toward her husband, capturing his lips as they ride out their high. Once she has caught her breath Y/N rolls away, off of the bed, shuffling back into her nightgown.

Aegon follows her lead, redressing in his tunic and trousers. “Head to the children’s room, wait for me there. I’ll have the guards help me search the floor for any sign of…rats.”

Y/N wrings her hands, knowing how silly it sounds. “Thank you, Aegon.”

He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to her forehead and cheek. “You’re more than welcome.” He watches her leave the room before heading in the opposite direction. Where is everyone? The keep is never so quiet, even at night.

Y/N scampers down the hallway to the nursery, it takes a moment for her mind to make sense of the scene before her. Helaena with a knife held to her throat by a strange man. His counterpart hovering over the children’s beds with a blade at the ready.

“What are you doing?” Y/N breathes, clutching a hand to her chest.

The man holding Helaena shoves her aside.

Y/N catches the woman in her arms, smoothing down her white tresses. Helaena clings to her. “It’s ok.”

The children sleep better together, they always have. Besides the maids prefer Aegon and Y/N’s children close to Aemond and Helaena’s for practical reasons, until they are older.

“Which of them are yours?” The first man demands.

“All of them,” Y/N lies. “All of them are mine.”

“You have but four children,” Cheese insists. “Here lie six, tell me which are yours and I will spare them.”

“If I don’t tell you and you’re wrong, my mother will have your head.” Y/N clenches her jaw. “For all I know of our true queen, this was not her request. So who’s was it?”

“A son for a son, that’s what’s fair.” Blood insists.

“What did they offer you? Gold?” Y/N wonders, “I’ll double it if you leave now.”

The men look to each other, undecided.

“Or you could take me instead. I’m worth more to my mother than any bounty.” Rhaenyra’s eldest child offers.

————————————————————————-

Aegon completes his sweep of their chambers, along with the rest of the royal floor. Nothing is amiss. He moves to the children’s quarters and finds Helaena, curled up on the floor. “What’s happened?”

Helaena takes her brother’s outstretched hand. “They wanted to kill the boy.”

The boy? “My boy?”

Helaena shakes her head, “mine.”

Aegon looks to his nephew, still sleeping soundly. “Where is Y/N?”

“They took her instead.”

“Where the hell is Cole?” Aegon demands. “Where in the seven hells is anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena sobs.

Part 2

[sexlapis]

[◉°] … Y/N & TOJI BEING A COUPLE FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT… 537k views

⌦ 🎬 ⁺　　　.　　　　❀

꩜ actor! toji x actress! reader

⤷ synopsis : you & toji deny the dating rumours, but you’re both being a little bit too comfortable with each other for your relationship to be just “platonic”.

sfw, fluff, toji is a little ooc <3

. art credits to deltapork on twitter

.. inspired by this post

… part 2, part 3, part 4

masterlists

actor!toji masterlist

꩜ first clip

you & toji are in an interview, one to promote the upcoming release of the action movie you both star in where you’re the main love interest. it is bound to be a huge success, judging by the interest and how everyone loves the chemistry you and toji have both in and out of film!

the interviewer asks you a question and while you’re responding you can feel someone staring at you. you turn to your left where toji is sitting, and he has his eyes dead set on you, not looking away for one second. you turn your focus back to the interviewer to continue answering, but you can’t help but turn back and see that he is still staring at you with his intense blue eyes. you repeat this a few times before cutting off your own sentence with a giggle and covering your face with your hands.

toji chuckles in confusion, looking at the interviewer and then back at you, bewildered. “what-whats so funny?”

you look at toji with your hands still covering your face. “toji, i can’t concentrate when you look at me like that!”

toji tilts his head, swiftly shifting his chair in your direction and leans closer to you, practically nose to nose at this point. “like what?”

“like that!” you laugh, covering your hot face once more as he and the interviewer laugh at your actions.

the interviewer chimes in. “i do have to say, your eyes can be quite intimidating..”

“see?!” you say to toji and then look to the interviewer. “thank you.”

toji huffs and just looks at you. and you look back at him with a small grin on your face.

you speak. “as i was saying…”

you repeat your response to the question and toji exaggeratedly stares at you and you attempt to ignore it (and fail).

꩜ second clip

this was a behind the scenes clip, where your cast member is speaking about his characters relationship with the other main characters but sadly for him, that is not where the viewers’ attention was.

in the background, they see toji sitting on a couch looking at his phone and then you walking into frame. toji looks up from his phone, and if you look very closely, he can be seen smiling at you. you walk over and plop down on the couch right next to him. you both talk to each other for a few moments, faces close together and then you lay your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and taking what appears to be a nap. toji, moving as slowly as he can, takes a blanket that is already on the couch and drapes of over you. you snuggle closer to him, prompting toji to rest his head on top of yours. he does just that.

꩜ third clip

during an interview with you and the cast members, including toji, in front of a live audience, you somehow found yourselves on the topic of the types of cars you all have. you then remember how toji had told you about a motorcycle he owned, but you forgot which kind.

“i think i wanna ride on toji’s..motorcycle! i think-”

you hear the audience laugh and hear a few wolf whistles and you turn to your fellow actors, who are also laughing, especially gojo. you seem confused, but then you think back to what you said a second ago and feel your face heat up in embarrassment.

“oh, no no nonono-” shaking your head vehemently, “that is not-”

“toji’s motorcycle eh?” gojo teases while raising his eyebrows and wiggling his fingers, which only encourages the mockery and your desire to punch him.

you cover your face with your hand and sigh. “oh my god.”

while everybody in the room makes fun of you, you look to the left to see toji’s reaction and the camera pans to his smug smirking face.

“i mean i’m free friday night so..” he trails off, winks at you and the audience goes crazy and you shove your face in your hands.

“forget i even said anything!”

꩜ fourth clip

you and toji were recording a little vlog like video for the fans, talking about what it was like on set when you get onto the subject of what working with the other cast members is like.

“yeah gojo’s is pain in the ass.” toji states and shakes his head, fondly almost. “never stops running that big mouth ‘a his.”

spits of laughter fall from your mouth at his frankness. “uhh..yeah that’s true, gojo if you see this don’t be offended!”

“yeah we still like you we just..wish you’d shut the fuck up more often.”

“toji!” you gasp and slap his chest, “you’re no spring chicken either you know.”

toji scoffs and looks at you with a raised brow. “yeah, you’re a handful yourself.”

“what? no i’m not!” toji tilts his head and blinks. “everyone says i’m great to work with. you’re such a liar.” you roll your eyes with a laugh.

toji chuckles and moves closer to you on the sofa, and leans towards your face. “no ‘s alright. i have big hands.” he places a kiss on your cheek.

“ew, you’re so corny!” you lean away and wipe away his kiss, trying not to smile and look flustered.

꩜ fifth clip

this was a big day for y/n x toji lovers, when a movie you were both in won an award. now, neither of you were the main characters, but the fans made sure to make you both the most popular ones.

while the director is accepting the award, fans zoomed in on you and toji standing near the back of the group of cast members, where you’re tearing up and trying not to cry. you’re wiping your tears and toji looks at you and does a double take when he realises that you’re crying. he looks down at you and hugs you from the side, which makes you lay your head on his chest and wrap an arm around his waist. toji accepts this invitation and full on hugs you, kissing the top of your head softly and rubbing your back.

꩜ sixth clip

toji posts workout videos on his instagram stories. they’re mostly of him lifting weights and they’re rare, so fans cherish them.

and then theres a short video of you laying on top of toji’s back while he does pushups like it’s nothing. you’re smiling, spreading your arms out like you’re flying. toji suddenly starts going fast as fuck, making you bounce and almost fall off. you gasp and start hitting the back of his head while the person recording starts to laugh (most likely gojo).

you fall off toji’s back and lay on the floor like a starfish. the camera pans to a proud looking toji before you kick his face.

a/n: thank u for reading ^_-

[tender-rosiey]

Everyone loves girl dad Suguru, but what if he has a stubborn headed son

block battle — geto suguru x f!reader

a/n: suguru, you shall always have a special place in mi heart + reminder that suguru IS a menace just a hidden one

you’re sat in the living room when you glance up from where you’re folding laundry on the couch, catching sight of your husband sitting cross-legged on the floor with your son.

suguru’s dark hair is tied up, though a few strands have fallen loose, framing his face as he gestures animatedly at the boy who is very clearly not listening as he builds his blocks.

“s/n, I’m just saying,” suguru begins, his tone edged with exasperation,

“if you’d actually let me help, we could finish this thing before your mom gives me the look for the mess.”

your son, a spitting image of suguru down to the determined furrow of his brows, doesn’t even glance up.

“it’s not a thing,” he corrects matter-of-factly, his little hands carefully balancing another block on top of an already teetering pile.

“it’s a fortress. and you’re doing it wrong.”

suguru stares at him, clearly trying to keep his composure.

he takes a deep breath before leaning back slightly. “oh, I’m doing it wrong? alright, young master, show me how it’s done since you’re clearly the expert.”

s/n straightens his back, fully embracing the challenge.

“like this,” he declares, adjusting the block with the seriousness of someone presenting architectural blueprints.

suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering just loud enough for you to hear, “why does this feel like dealing with satoru during mission prep?”

he glances at you over his shoulder, and you can see the faintest twitch of a smile threatening to break through his otherwise tired expression.

“hear that, babe? I’ve been reduced to the role of a laborer. guess I’m not qualified for fortress-building anymore.”

you hum, folding the last shirt. “well, I’m sure you’ll figure it out, assistant. just don’t let him run you into the ground.”

your son’s head snaps up, his eyes widening with righteous indignation. “I’m not bossy! dad’s just slow!”

suguru’s eyebrows twitch at the accusation.

“slow?” he repeats, his tone almost comically even. “me? me?”

he glances back at you, pointing at himself with exaggerated disbelief.

“do you hear this? our son, who couldn’t even hold his own chopsticks until six months ago, is calling me slow.”

you bite your lip to stifle a laugh, but the glimmer in your eyes gives you away. “to be fair,” you say, folding another shirt, “you are taking an awfully long time to help with his…fortress.”

suguru shoots you a look, one part betrayed and two parts pleading, but before he can retort, s/n pipes up again, his voice brimming with the conviction only a five-year-old can muster.

“because he’s not doing it right!” his tiny hands flap in the air in frustration as he points at the blocks. “I said the blue one goes here, and he put it there!”

suguru drags a hand down his face, leaning back against the couch.

“you’re killing me, kid,” he mutters under his breath before plastering on a painfully forced smile. “alright, buddy. let’s start over. where exactly does the blue block go?”

s/n clambers over to the pile of blocks and holds one up like it’s the crown jewel. “here,” he says with utter certainty, placing it on the most precarious part of the structure.

suguru stares at the wobbly creation, his forced smile faltering. “that’s…that’s not gonna hold, s/n.”

“yes, it will!”

“no, it won’t.”

“yes, it will!”

suguru groans, rubbing his temples.

“it really does remind me of him,” he mutters under his breath, throwing you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and helpless.

“why couldn’t he have inherited your agreeable nature? or at least some common sense?”

you snort, unable to hold back your laughter now. “oh, I don’t know about that,” you tease, leaning back against the cushions.

“I seem to recall you, suguru, being pretty stubborn when we were dating. remember the time you insisted you could build that bookshelf without reading the instructions?”

“that’s different,” suguru huffs, crossing his arms like a sulking child. “that was about pride.”

“exactly.” you grin, motioning toward your son, who is now enthusiastically rebuilding the fortress with zero regard for suguru’s input. “and where do you think he gets his pride from, hm?”

suguru opens his mouth to argue but stops, his shoulders sagging in defeat. “this is my karma, isn’t it?”

“absolutely,” you say cheerfully, tossing a balled-up sock at him.

suguru catches it with ease, leaning his head back against the couch as your son continues to fuss over his masterpiece.

“you know, this would be so much easier if he actually listened for five seconds,” he grumbles. “talks a lot, doesn’t listen, and refuses to admit when he’s wrong.”

“I’m not wrong!” s/n shouts without looking up, clearly having inherited his father’s excellent hearing as well.

suguru groans dramatically, flopping sideways onto the floor. “see?” he waves a hand in your direction, presenting the evidence of his misery.

you’re laughing so hard now that tears prick the corners of your eyes. “oh, come on, suguru,” you say between breaths. “he’s five. you can’t let him break you already.”

“easy for you to say,” he grumbles, sitting up and giving you a half-hearted glare. “you’re not the one being micromanaged by someone who still needs help tying his shoes.”

“then stop fighting him on it,” you say with a shrug, walking over to ruffle s/n’s hair. “you know he’s not going to back down. he’s just as stubborn as you are.”

suguru sighs, brushing a hand through his loose strands of hair. “yeah, yeah. I get it. he’s my mini-me, complete with the attitude and confidence.”

he leans back, looking at your son, who is now proudly adjusting the blocks again. despite his grumbling, there’s a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

you kneel beside him, resting a hand on his shoulder. “at least he has your heart too,” you say quietly, watching as your son holds up the structure triumphantly.

suguru tilts his head, looking up at you with warm eyes. “guess I can’t be too mad about that,” he murmurs, his tone softening.

“papa, look!” your son calls out, running over to tug at suguru’s sleeve. “it’s done!”

suguru looks over at the fortress—or rather, a colorful mess of blocks barely holding together—and gives a small nod of approval. “looks sturdy, buddy. good job.”

s/n beams, his earlier frustration forgotten, and suguru finally manages a genuine smile.

“see?” you say, nudging him playfully. “you survived.”

“barely,” he replies, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer. he presses a few kiss across your cheek before pausing and grimacing.

“let’s never make him spend time with satoru.”

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