#performance management new trends

[sparkletastic-cookiedough]

Bruce is horribly immune to most pranks… but Steph has a plan to mess with him.

Steph blames Dick for Bruce’s nonchalance. Mr. “Climbs a chandelier and breaks it” ended up breaking a lot of Bruce’s sanity as well.

Bruce barely reacts when she puts salt in the coffee instead of sugar. She gave him ghost peppers at the last Gala, and he gave his Brucie Wayne performance around the sensation of his mouth on fire. She dyed all his shirts purple, he convinced business investors it was a new fashion trend.

She needs to prank Bruce, absolutely befuddle him in a way that makes him question reality. She’s even prepared to use the other family members to do this.

She manages to get the other bats (and even Alfred!) to agree on this prank.

Steph has a plan. She has a new friend from school, Danny, who Bruce doesn’t know about yet.

She’s going to Gaslight Bruce Wayne into believing he has an extra child.

This is a good plan.

[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, something big.”

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.

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. “You post at least one chaotic tweet about me.”

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?”

"Absolutely not."

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. “There's an 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. “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 genital on the 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? 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, your girl 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.

_

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 free 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. 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.

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.

You shut the door behind her, raising an eyebrow. “What's up?”

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 cafe 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 yelled at me for talking too much.”

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—no, she was falling 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.

[signedkoko]

Oo could I request romantic Vees with a reader who's this famous singer/idol in Hell? (Think, way more than Fizzarolli-level famous)

Valentino | Velvette | Vox [Romantic]

In which you are one of the most popular performance artists in all of hell. Reader is female.

Your name was more than just 'known'; it was plastered along buildings and chanted by millions

He was always scouting for personalities, following trends in people to see who he could drag down into his vicing grip

But you were untouchable, the first thing he couldn't command to their knees before him

Even so, if Val wanted to meet you, he could, and it was extremely new to the overlord to have to go out of his way to meet someone, but he felt it was worth it

He claims it was because you had possible talent, but those closest to him know he had a bit of a celebrity crush

Valentino is not one to be nervous; he would be direct when telling you that he wanted you, again and again, until you eventually granted him at least one night out, just the two of you

Once he has his chance, he'll pull out every stop just to hear you say that you'd like to see him again

He gets so distracted with you that he forgets the part about getting you into his company, eventually brushing it off by saying you 'didn't suit what he was looking for'

Avoiding being under his contract meant he could never command you, which meant he never had anything to be angry with you about

According to him, you were a role model for all the demons he owned

Famous stars require famous stylists, and who better than Velvette?

You'd actually reached out to her personally, since a lot of her work inspired your current stylists, and you wanted an upgrade for your tour of hell

Idol's like you were the exact thing people like Velvette dreamed of having in their portfolio, and she insisted on meeting you so she could see what you were looking for

In all her years, she'd never met an idol so genuine—most were snobbish, greedy, or just told her to 'do whatever'

You came in with photos of things you liked, hell, even fabrics you preferred, and a set list of what your songs would look like in order

She was already in love

You get her personal creations, and she insists on being the one to tailor you herself

" Only the best for the best, right? "

She can feel her bitchy attitude melt, and though she gets extremely bothered when anyone interrupts your sessions together, you ground her

It's not long before you two become official, and while she can't follow you into the deeper rings of hell, she will always be sure to watch your performances in the background while she works

She constantly calls you 'doll', because she's always dressing you up

Influences, aristocrats, idols—none of it was new to the king of social media

Everyone contacted him for their social management, or his team, at least

He didn't do much of the personal work himself; he had far too much on his plate, but he always checked on who was requesting his services

Mostly for the ego boost, knowing the image of so many self-proclaimed "stars'' relied on him

But there was also a list of people he wanted to work for, a list that brought his ego back down and told him he hadn't met his goals yet and had to try harder

You were at the very top

He'd seen a plethora of your performances recorded and reuploaded: best takes, most underrated performances, and unforgettable sets

But he'd never had the chance to see you live until he got a PR package regarding your newest album release

Him? It was certainly interesting to...no shot, you sent him hidden tickets for 'friends only'

He is not fangirling except maybe a bit; he's already cleared his schedule that evening so he can get there and making sure his outfit is cleaned up and ready

Your performance was out of this world, and he is beyond pleased when he is invited backstage to speak with you

There you were, taking off your earrings in your dressing room, smiling at him as if you were old friends

" How was the performance? I'm so glad you came. "

For a moment, hes almost worried you have the wrong person; he seems uncertain of what to say until you continue

" I heard you are hard to win over, so I figured I'd go all out before I ask if you'd consider running my new album compaigne? "

He acts cool, but when he gets home that evening, he is pumping his fist in the air and screaming

Author's Note - I was thinking lilith-level famous, you are THAT girl... Thank you for requesting! I went for a fem! reader because it was no specified

[itertarot]

Quick Tarot Reading | Career

Which Career is the right for you?

Pick a color

One/Black:

My dear pile 1, the ideal profession for you involves teamwork, long-term goals, hierarchy, tradition, creativity, hands-on work, effort, leadership, and rewards for your dedication. You would excel in corporate roles that require planning, meetings, teamwork, and opportunities for career advancement.

- Manager

- Analyst

- Marketing Specialist/Manager

- Director

- Consultant

- Coordinator

Two/Red:

My dear pile 2, the ideal professions for you fall into two distinct groups. The first group involves a strong need to handle conflicts and bring healing. In this case, the ideal professions are:

- Psychiatrist

- Psychologist

- Therapist

- Any profession focused on bringing peace of mind and emotional well-being to those in need.

The second group is highly creative, with extensive talent in the fields of performance and creation. Here, the ideal professions are:

- Theater (actor, director, writer, etc.)

- Cinema (filmmaker, writer, actor, etc.)

Three/Yellow:

You were born to be self-employed, my dear pile 3. The ideal profession for you is one where you are your own boss. You thrive on challenges and need ample space to showcase and exercise your natural creativity. As a born leader, you are destined to carve your own path.

The perfect fit for you is:

- Entrepreneur

Whether it’s starting your own business, launching innovative projects, or leading ventures, entrepreneurship allows you to harness your leadership skills, creativity, and independence to achieve greatness.

Four/Green:

You have a unique gift for bringing new life into what seems lost and destined for failure. You take what is no longer working and transform it into something solid and beautiful. Your ideal profession will bring you great fortune because you bring abundance to everything you touch.

- Restructuring/Restoration Specialist

- Mentor

- Working with NGOs or creating content (like those popupar channels) that earn significant income by helping those in need.

- Entrepreneur who revives failing businesses or properties (e.g., buying bankrupt companies or rundown houses, restoring them, and selling them for profit, like Windy City Rehab Program).

Five/Pink:

My dear pile 5, you are the pile of influencers and trendsetters! Some of you will shine brightly in the world of communication, especially through video content creation. Others will thrive in the beauty industry, whether by working in or owning your own beauty clinic. Additionally, some of you will excel in the fashion world, working with clothing and dictating trends. A few of you may even find yourselves collaborating with luxury brands and luxury bags.

- Content Creator/Influencer

- Beauty Specialist (esthetician, makeup artist, or owning a beauty clinic)

- Fashion Professional (stylist, designer, or trend forecaster)

- Luxury Brand Collaborator (working with or representing high-end brands)

[sirhamburrger]

BREAKING NEWS: CHART-TOPPING ARTIST YN LN PUBLICLY DISSES PXG STAR PLAYER AFTER HISTORIC VICTORY AGAINST BASTARD MÜNCHEN?!

after #JusticeForPXG starts to trend on most major social media platforms within a mere two hours, you receive an email from their manager. they… want you to perform before their match against the ubers? for a horrifying moment you’d thought your career might actually end over an offhand comment, but it seems you’ve been thrown a lifeline.

well, so much for that lifeline, because you’re pretty sure you trample all over it and set it on fire when, during your performance item three evenings later, a photo of none other than rin freaking itoshi appears on the big screen -

and the flash of a thousand cameras captures the very moment you roll your eyes in front of ten thousand people. and the whole internet.

you grimace when you step off the pitch and head back to the holding area, still panting from the exertion of the set. as the players stream out from their locker rooms, you brush against someone’s elbow, and as you turn a second later to wish the teams luck, you notice the man of the hour himself staring back at you.

and you really hate that you might care what he thinks about you.

---

“look,” aiku snickers, pointing at the screen in the locker room. “it’s your favourite bm fan.”

“it’s not even that funny.” rin tightens the laces on his cleats a little too aggressively to punctuate his sentence.

but he’s thinking: does she really hate him all that much?

“i’m pretty sure sendou dated her at some point,” karasu chimes in, rather unhelpfully.

“no way,” aiku says dismissively and more than a little seriously. “she’s waaaaay out of his league. she’d have to be blind - or really, really desperate.”

“get out of my player’s head, aiku.” julian loki pulls his jersey over his head, shooting the ex-u20 captain a withering stare. “or is it because you know you don’t stand a chance against us?”

“casse toi!” charles pipes up.

rin groans.

---

pxg wins that evening. you can’t even say you’re surprised - you knew, somehow, that it would turn out like this.

and here’s how the rest of it goes:

you tell yourself you’re going to leave the stadium quietly. slip out before anyone can get another picture of you, before the internet takes your face and pastes it onto another meme.

but fate has a funny way of playing games with you, because when you round the corner leading to the underground parking lot, you walk right into him.

rin itoshi.

you freeze, half because of the collision, half because - well, you’ve never actually been this close to him before. he’s taller than you expected. his hair is damp from the showers, and his stare is impassive, unreadable.

you expect him to be mad, or annoyed, or at the very least, indifferent enough to walk right past you. but instead, he speaks.

"you don’t like me."

it’s not a question.

you could lie, smooth things over, but that would be too easy. and honestly, you’re still annoyed - at the internet, at this whole situation, at the fact that he looks this good after running across a pitch for ninety minutes.

"what gave it away?" you say dryly.

his brow twitches, just the slightest bit. "is it because of pxg?"

you sigh. "no, it’s because i think you’re kind of an ass."

his lips press into a thin line. you expect him to snap at you, but instead, he just studies you - like he’s trying to solve some kind of puzzle.

"fair," he says after a beat, and for some reason, that catches you off guard.

you cross your arms. "that’s it? no defense? no ‘you don’t even know me’ speech?"

"if you think i’m an ass, i probably was." he shrugs, looking away for a second before flicking his gaze back to you. there’s something almost amused in his expression now. "but you still came to perform."

you roll your eyes. "only because your manager begged me to."

"right. had nothing to do with me."

"nothing at all."

he hums, as if he doesn’t quite believe you. as if he can see the way your resolve wavers, just a little, under the weight of his attention.

and you hate that he might be right.

he shifts then, stepping aside, giving you space to leave. but before you do, he says, almost offhandedly, "i don’t hate you, you know."

something about the way he says it makes your stomach flip. or maybe it's the compression shirt. (yeah, it's probably just the compression shirt.)

---

© sirhamburrger 2025

[chrissssssmut]

Can you do a yandere Yunjin story, with her being the yandere? I loved the other one that you just did as well!

STUCK WITH YOU

Yandere Yunjin and Eunchae x Idol Male Reader

Note: Hope it's okay that I added Eunchae here! :<

It all started with a performance.

Your first solo debut—an unforgettable night. The crowd screamed your name, thousands of light sticks illuminating the dark venue like stars. You were untouchable, basking in the glow of adoration. And among those thousands of fans, two stood out.

Yunjin and Eunchae.

At first, they were just dedicated fans, faces you’d seen at every fan sign and music show. You noticed how they always managed to get front-row seats, how their voices were the loudest when they cheered. Their unwavering support was flattering—comforting, even. But then, things started getting strange.

They were always there.

Not just at concerts or public events, but at places they had no business being. The café where you grabbed your morning coffee. The gym you frequented at odd hours. The quiet bookstore you visited to find some escape. You switched up your routine, changed your schedule. It didn’t matter. They always found you.

The messages began flooding your private accounts.

“We know you’re tired. We’ll take care of you.” “You looked so good in that white hoodie today. We love seeing you like this.” “It’s okay. You don’t have to be lonely anymore. You have us.”

And then, one night, they took things further.

The exhaustion had finally caught up with you. After weeks of back-to-back schedules, you finally had a night to yourself. Alone in your apartment, you felt at peace. No cameras. No screaming fans. Just silence.

Until it wasn’t.

A creak.

A whisper.

The last thing you saw was the shadow of two figures before everything went black.

You woke up somewhere unfamiliar. The room smelled of old wood and dust, the air thick with silence. Your wrists and ankles were bound, the rope digging into your skin. Panic surged through you, but before you could struggle, the door creaked open.

Yunjin walked in first, her eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“You’re awake,” she said with a soft smile, as if this were normal.

Eunchae followed closely behind, giggling as she set down a tray of food. “You must be hungry. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”

“What—” Your voice cracked, throat dry. “Where am I?”

Yunjin tilted her head. “Somewhere safe.”

Eunchae knelt beside you, placing a hand on your arm. “You work so hard, oppa. We just wanted to give you a break. Now, you don’t have to worry about anything. Just stay with us.”

Your blood ran cold.

The news of your disappearance spread like wildfire. Your name trended worldwide, your agency issued desperate pleas for any information. Fans gathered, praying for your safe return.

But no one found you.

Days blurred into weeks. Every attempt to escape was met with swift punishment—nothing violent, just tight restraints and whispered reassurances that this was for your own good. They fed you, took care of you, spoke to you as if you were lovers rather than their captive idol.

You realized quickly—these weren’t just fans.

They were obsessed.

You had to get out.

One night, as they slept, you made your move. Eunchae had left her phone unattended, and with trembling hands, you sent a single, desperate message to your manager.

Help came in the form of sirens and flashing lights. The authorities stormed the hideout, tearing you away from their grasp.

Yunjin screamed, thrashing against the officers. “NO! NO, YOU CAN’T TAKE HIM! HE’S MINE!” Her voice cracked with desperation, tears streaming down her face. “OPPA! LOOK AT ME! PLEASE! DON’T LEAVE US!”

Eunchae sobbed, trying to claw her way back to you. “You love us! You HAVE to love us! We did everything for you! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO STAY WITH US FOREVER!”

Their cries rang in your ears as they were dragged away, their hands reaching out for you, their screams echoing long after they were gone.

You were free.

Your return was a celebration. Fans cried with joy, your agency assured everyone that you would take a long break to recover. The world rejoiced in your escape, but deep down, you knew it wasn’t over.

Then came the psychiatric checkup.

Routine, they said. Necessary.

The doctor was kind. Too kind. His voice was soothing as he asked you how you were feeling. You were exhausted but relieved. Maybe now, things could go back to normal.

Then the room spun.

The moment the needle pricked your skin, your body went numb. The world faded, and before you lost consciousness, a familiar voice whispered against your ear—

“Welcome back, love.”

When you woke, everything was black.

Not just the room—your vision.

A blindfold? No. Bandages. Thick, tight, unmoving.

Panic set in as you tried to move, but soft hands held you down. Yunjin’s voice cooed beside you, her fingers brushing against your cheek.

“Shh. It’s okay.”

Eunchae giggled, playing with your hair. “We couldn’t let you leave again, oppa. So we made sure you’ll always stay with us.”

Your breath hitched. “What did you do?”

Yunjin pressed a kiss against your temple, her voice dripping with devotion. “You don’t need to see the world anymore. We’re all you need.”

Eunchae let out a gleeful laugh, clapping her hands in excitement. “Isn’t it perfect? No more distractions, no more stupid fans trying to steal you away. Just us, forever.”

Yunjin chuckled darkly, her voice laced with twisted satisfaction. “You really thought you escaped us, didn’t you? Oh, oppa, you should’ve known better. We love you too much to ever let you go.”

Eunchae leaned closer, her breath warm against your ear. “Now, you belong to us completely. No more running, no more pretending you don’t love us back.”

They both laughed, their voices high with triumph, their hands caressing you as if you were their prized possession. Their obsession had won.

Your screams were muffled by their soft, soothing whispers.

Outside, the world still celebrated your safe return.

They had no idea you were never truly free.

And worst of all—there were no traces of Yunjin and Eunchae.

No records of their arrest. No police files. No news coverage about them being taken into custody.

It was as if they had vanished into thin air.

Or worse—were watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.

[robertreich]

Boeing Is Everything Wrong With American Capitalism

Excuse my language, but why is Boeing such a shitty corporation?

Their planes are literally falling apart in the sky.

At least six Boeing planes have had parts fall off this year — including an exit door in mid-flight. A whistle-blower has accused Boeing of a “criminal cover-up” of its safety failures.

But beyond this one company, Boeing’s descent is a case study in how American capitalism has become so rotten. Let me explain.

I’m old enough to remember when people used to say “If it’s not Boeing, I’m not going.”

But in 1997, everything changed when Boeing merged with McDonnell Douglas and became the only major maker of commercial aircraft in America. With no domestic rivals, it no longer needed to stay on the cutting edge of innovation.

Executives at Boeing who once specialized in engineering were replaced with Wall Street types who looked down on the engineers. One money-hungry CEO described those who cared too much about the integrity of Boeing’s planes, and not enough about its stock price, as “phenomenally talented assholes.”

To keep Wall Street happy, Boeing began spending billions on stock buybacks that pumped up the value of shares — money that could have been spent on safety and innovation.

It doled out hundreds of millions on campaign contributions and lobbying to lower safety standards, rake in massive government contracts, and boost its bottom line.

To cut costs, Boeing outsourced roughly 70% of its design, engineering, and manufacturing rather than rely on its experienced union workforce.

To further undercut its union, Boeing opened an assembly plant in South Carolina, a notorious anti-union state. Executives reportedly told managers not to move any unionized employees there.

This quest for profit resulted in massive quality control problems that were reported by engineers and machinists, but allegedly ignored by management. All of this inevitably led to the deadly safety issues Boeing faces today.

And because of Boeing’s monopoly-like power, it has been largely immune from any repercussions for its poor performance.

Boeing made it seem like it was punishing executives who led it astray by firing them, but still rewarded them with “golden parachutes” on the way out.

Folks, Boeing’s troubles should serve as a cautionary tale. It’s reflective of broader trends in our economy over the past forty years. Monopolization. Wealth siphoned off to rich shareholders at the expense of everyone else. Cutting corners on safety to save a dime. Bashing unions. All while spending big money lobbying the government.

Boeing may have become a shitty company, but that doesn’t mean we have to put up with it.

The government has the power to increase antitrust enforcement to bust up big companies — something that we are already starting to see in other industries.

It should also attach strings to government contracts and subsidies to ensure that private corporations are working in the best interest of the country, and not just their bottom lines.

It should ban stock buybacks, which were illegal before the Reagan administration, so profits are put back into improving the company, including the safety of products, rather than solely padding investors’ wallets.

Union power should be rebuilt, so that workers can once again act as a countervailing force to Wall Street.

And we should continue the fight to get Big Money out of politics.

It’s not too late to reverse course and chart a new flight path.

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐭 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐡. 𝟐 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

poly! carlando x reader | read chapter one here. | join taglist

˖♡ - ̗̀ ⇢ this is the entire intro to the second chapter. in the outline, it's called "the first strike." any predictions? well, you're in for a ride, let me tell you that. full chapter two coming soon. tysm for being patient and understanding x

On this Monday in May, you’re awake before the sun, watching it rise over Madrid as you drive to Golf La Moraleja. This summer begins the same as those before it, with your coworkers complaining about being required to attend a meeting—filled with the same information you’ve all heard every year since you first started—and, holding it so early in the morning. 

Your eyes ache from lack of sleep but it doesn’t hinder you from complaining all the same; returning employees should be allowed to skip the first meeting of the season as it’s more of an orientation for the new hires. Marco, your boss, disagrees. He says that senior employees need to be present to set a good example of the standards and expectations for the rookies. 

You’re unsure if a group of seven, sleep-deprived, twenty-something-year-old, beverage cart drivers could be described as a “good example.” At least there’s a breakfast spread. The seven of you can be good examples of how to take advantage of a free meal.

As Marco drones on about procedures and policies, your mind drifts to the late-night you had. 

Your eyes burn with exhaustion because you missed out on a few hours of sleep to talk with your boyfriends. You listened as Lando ranted about how disappointing his car performed this weekend and Carlos still seemed surprised that he managed to hold onto fifth place with a time penalty. Neither of the boys wanted to sweat out more of their body weight in water in a packed, humid, Miami club after a particularly demanding race, but you convinced them to at least have a drink or two with Fernando Alonso to celebrate his podium finish.

You may not have the most in-depth Formula One knowledge, but you know that dragging that Aston Martin onto the podium is an astounding feat. Carlos admires the man greatly, even if he pretends to be salty about being the second-favorite Spanish F1 driver. Lando respects Alonso largely as well, he talks kindly about the time he spent shadowing him at McLaren.

You styled their outfits for the night with sleepy eyes. Carlos endlessly showered you with compliments every time he glanced at you through the screen of his laptop. The butterflies in your stomach fluttered at every endearment; you believed in the hermosa’s and linda’s with each repetition, even as your phone mirrored the image of you: makeup-free, bonnet, and pimple patch-riddled.

Lando (after Carlos kicked him out of the bathroom for being unable to control his wandering hands) splayed across the hotel bed on his stomach, the love ? —the longing he has for you is visible through the pixels. His feet kicked back and forth behind him mindlessly as he attentively listened to you ramble about the authorship credit you received in a textbook for research you did last year.

You sighed deeply. If only the world knew how these two men ended the call by blowing kisses through the screen, whining about having to wait another couple of months until they get to see you in person. 

If the world knew, maybe that woman in the club wouldn’t have tried (and failed) to make a move on your boys.

When your alarm sounded for today’s early morning meeting, you awoke to the sight of your phone being spammed with Twitter links and texts with your name in all caps.

The hashtag Carlando is trending on Twitter because of an anonymous submission to a gossip account that details Lando and Carlos “getting cozy” with a woman in a club. Thankfully, the anonymous submission was proven false—with photo evidence, at that. 

The first photo caused a sense of dread to build within you. It shows a blond woman standing next to them at the bar, her beady eyes predatory as she stares up at Carlos with a disgusting smirk and her hand is offensively outstretched, tugging at the collar of his polo. Lando, who’s standing next to the Spaniard, looks at her with an expression of shock and disbelief, while Carlos only offers her his trademarked confused stare.

The second photo transformed that sense of dread into a feeling of relief, pity, amusement, and vicarious embarrassment. 

The image captured the woman dropping her hand away with an annoyed frown and a sharp glare thrown at Lando, whose disposition has switched from surprised to unimpressed, illustrated by his well-known disgruntled nose scrunch. Carlos isn’t looking at the woman anymore, he’s taken a step backward and is staring at Lando. His hand is clasped on the younger man’s shoulder and he’s seemingly trying to pull him away from the woman.

You wish there were more photos. 

The online consensus is that the woman in the photo needs to change her entire identity if she wishes to have another peaceful day on Earth. The F1-adjacent internet is clowning this poor girl about her seduction attempt on Carlos going so terribly that Lando had to put a stop to it. There’s a smaller portion of people saying that Lando couldn’t handle the sight of somebody trying to flirt with Carlos right in front of him—they’re closer to being correct than they know.

Nevertheless, you kind of feel sad for the woman: waking up after a night out with a nasty hangover only to find out you’re being lambasted on social media because there’s photo evidence of you being rejected after a terrible attempt at flirting. You refuse to imagine it; seeing her experience is enough for you. 

While it’s early morning in Spain, it’s midnight in Florida. The two men are asleep and unaware of their current trending status. Hopefully, that will last until you’ve returned home from this staff meeting and taken a long nap. But, damn, you’re dying to know exactly what Lando said that had her looking so insulted. 

You jolt to attention at a tap on your shoulder.

“Muchacha, the meeting is finished,” Isa’s eyes match your exhaustion, “Were you even paying attention?”

“Does it matter if I was?” You ask, heaving yourself out of your seat and waiting for your friend to do the same. “We’ve had the handbook read to us for the last five years. Zoning out during this orientation doesn’t matter to me.”

“¿Perdóname?”

You turn around to see one of the new hires addressing you. The first thing you notice is that he’s tall, like an American basketball player, type of tall. The second thing you notice is that he can’t be any older than twenty; unless he’s lucky enough to be so babyfaced. He’s tall and lanky, sporting sharp cheekbones, a nose that reminds you of Carlos, a pair of eyes similar to Lando’s, and an artfully styled mess of dirty blonde curls atop his head. Objectively speaking, he’d make a hell of a supermodel.

“I’m Alejandro, or Alé. I wanted to introduce myself before I started training with you tomorrow,” he states kindly, with a broad smile.

Zoning out during this orientation suddenly mattered very much. Last summer—sometime in June, before Carlos and Lando reappeared—you offered to train an employee if Marco needed the extra help. You must have missed the part of the meeting when he assigned Alejandro to you.

“Oh! Yes, sorry,” you introduce yourself to the kid kindly, apologizing mindlessly, “I am very tired and I was not paying attention—don’t tell Marco that. I’m supposed to be setting a good example for the new kids.”

He laughs, “I think you are a great example of reminding everyone to sleep for at least eight hours every night.”

“I can’t disagree with that, can I?” You smile politely, “Well, I promise I’ll be a better role model when training officially starts. You’re stuck with me for a month, right?”

“I would not say I am ‘stuck’ with you—that would be mean,” Alejandro snorts lightly, “But, yes. I will be riding along with you for a month. Marco says that I’m lucky to be paired with you.”

“Did he?”

“Sí. He said you’re one of his best cart servers and that you bring in the most tips.”

Isa snorts behind you. Without needing to look, you reach behind to smack her on the back of the head. He doesn’t need to know that your secret relationship with two Formula One drivers is responsible for the extra money you made last year.

“I’m a young woman working on a golf course. Which, is why I make plenty of tips.”

Alejandro hums, raising a brow, “Really?”

“There’s more than a few sleazy men that come out here willing to throw cash at anyone who wears a smile, skirt, and pigtails.”

“Ah, well,” he shrugs jokingly, his picture-perfect smile relaxing into something natural, “I do not have enough hair for pigtails and could not pull off a skirt. I do think I can manage a smile.”

Squinting, you survey his form, “Don’t worry; there are men out there who prefer the sight of boys in tight shirts and short shorts instead of girls in short skirts. Ask Ryan or Rob. They make more money than me some days!”

“Is this your fancy plan to get me into tighter clothes?” Oh. He’s misunderstood you.

“Wow,” you deadpan, “You caught me. No, niño, I’m only ‘training’ you on how to make your wallet very happy. If you are uncomfortable with showing a little thigh, that’s okay.”

“I’m a model,” He scoffs with a smirk (you called it, him being a model), “of course, I do not mind showing more skin; however it looks like you want to see me in less clothing, as well.”

Your mouth drops open at the insinuation. Behind you, Isa full-body laughs herself to tears. The rest of your cart team—Lucas, Rob, Ryan, Sofia, and Steph—turns to look at Isa, wanting to know what she finds so funny. The entire clubhouse will know that the new kid tried to flirt with you by the end of the day. 

You shake your head fervently, “Woah, uh, no. ¡Dios mío! I hope I never see what’s under your clothes, full offense. I’m happily in a relationship! Also, not that it matters to me since I’m not interested in you, but—you are way too young for me, niño. It would be best to respect that and forget this part of the conversation ever happened, or it will be an awkward month of training.”

He immediately loses the smirk, stepping backward and raising his hands placatingly, apologetic, “¡Lo siento! I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I assumed you were—well, it does not matter, I assumed you meant more, and that is my fault. Pero, I am not a kid–I am nineteen.”

You and the rest of the eavesdropping beverage cart crew all gasp, abhorred at just how young he is. Does this mean you are all too old to be riding around serving drinks on a golf course?

“Nineteen?! What year were you born in? Never mind, don’t tell me—it’ll make me depressed. Look, niño, you’re forgiven—I could see how telling someone to show off their…assets, could be seen as flirting. So, I’m sorry, too. This is incredibly awkward, let’s never speak of this again?”

“Yes, I agree,” he nods vigorously, “But—Do you have to call me ‘niño?’”

“It fits, though? You are the youngest cart driver we have. Speaking of cart drivers—what’s your phone number? Lucas has to add you to the work chat.”

Your coworkers introduce themselves to Alejandro without hesitation. Conversation flows seamlessly as you all begin to catch up on what’s occurred in your lives since last summer. Rob’s sister-in-law exposed his older brother’s affair over Christmas Dinner, Sofia’s younger sister is pregnant with twins, and Lucas graduated with a degree in journalism. Midway through Ryan’s explanation of how his car was stolen three times in two months, the last two new hires shyly join your discussion. Laura and Giulia are training with Steph and Ryan, respectively. You and the other senior drivers begin to whine about old age when they reveal that they're nineteen, like Alejandro.

Isa catches a ride home with you and she asks if you're going to tell Carlos and Lando about how your trainee tried to make a move on you. You won’t tell them because there’s no reason to. Alejandro apologized and backed off—that’s all that matters to you. Why tell your boyfriends that the kid you’re going to be training tried to flirt with you? It won’t do anything more than make them jealous, probably, and that’s unnecessary.

general taglist (ask to join):

@saintslewis/@cherry2stems/@lorarri/@mindless-rock/@biancathecool

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current SOS taglist (ask or leave a reply if you would like to be added):

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© httpsserene - do not repost.

[ventismacchiato]

stuck with you — windblume !

˗ˏˋ profiles ´ˎ˗

yn — main vocalist which makes you the most popular member. you go viral every other week for getting into petty arguments on twitter and weverse with scaramouche. should definitely learn media training because you tend to rant about him too much during lives. ‘compilations of scaramouche and yn bickering’ are super common. you’re also the only member to release a solo album which gets you guys a lot of new fans. became an idol after being a trainee for way too many years, which is why you’re salty about scara debuting so quickly when he became an idol trainee after you. [🍰]

xiao — main dancer. choreographs a lot of the dances if not all. very introverted in public but talkative in behind the scenes vlogs with his group. xiao stans have it hard because this man hardly posts anything. fans call him the dad of the group because he’s always sneaking food onto everyone’s plates and keeping them hydrated during practice. when you guys first debuted everyone thought he was mean and cold when really he’s just a quiet sweetheart. has a tattoo sleeve that the fans haven’t seen the entirety of yet, jungkook vibes in that sense. most expensive photocards after you, the one of him in cat ears and winking goes for hundreds. [🦊]

lumine — leader of the group and one of the only responsible ones. strict about keeping everyone on schedule and trying to appear presentable at music and award shows. tries to drag you all to the gym at five in the morning but to no avail. she vlogs her gym routine and whatever member she dragged that morning is usually seen in the back sitting on a yoga ball the entire time, talking as she runs miles on the treadmill. always setting trends for workout routines and makeup looks. once it touches her face it sells out. her twin is also an idol so they both do a lot of tiktoks and videos together. it siblings. [☀️]

fischl — one of the lyricists for the group. so chronically online. she’s always active at odd hours of the night and interacting with her fans. posts the most too, so fischl biases are always full with content. wears an eyepatch as part of her idol persona, and still manages to perform with it on. will do book club livestreams where she’ll talk about her current favorite book with her fans for two hours or more. lumine has to shut the live off everytime because she will just keep yapping. [🦉]

venti — writes most of the group's songs and runs production. most unserious member and should really attend a public image class because he does not know how to be a celebrity. fans are constantly finding vapes in the back of his photos and videos of him drunk at award shows. went viral once for showing up to a music show high off his mind but still managing to perform. will dye the ends of his hair different colors every comeback from his fan’s requests. loves to go live and sing covers for whatever people ask for. he does qnas and takes the tmis too seriously. [🌱]

yoimiya — visual and vocalist, will bring out her guitar during concerts a lot. the only member who will go to the gym with lumine. became an idol because she used to busk in her hometown and got picked up by your manager while she was on vacation. would be the type of idol to adore fancalls and do decorating photocards on livestreams. gets invited to a lot of variety shows and was probably a judge for a survival show at one point. [🧨]

windblume —one of the idol groups underneath sakura entertainment,  a six member mix gendered idol group known for their whimsical and indie comebacks every year. think of txt’s brand when it comes to your guys’ style of music. have been a group for about three years. members range from 21-22. their debut album Temptation got them to their popularity today. fandom name: bloomies

stuck with you !

masterlist — next

for my nonkpop fans the emojis are their assigned ones for when people post their livestream quotes, will make more sense later 😓 and weverse is basically twitter but just for idols to interact with fans

tried not to describe yn too much because i want it to be inclusive, any photos showing yn are just to depict the pose! not gender, race, or body type 🙏

spent way too long making custom instagram templates and for what help so pls look at them xx it’s so u can visualize what these 2d mfs wud look like in this au

pls lmk in the masterlist comments if i can use ur username and make you a fan in the au!

synopsis — after the disaster that was the live award show, where you and scaramouche got into an argument on stage after both of your groups got a tie for top artists, your guys' PR teams have been in shambles trying to scrape up your mess. that's when the idea to send you both off with some other idols to a remote location for a survival dating show to mend your public image comes up. before you know it your bags are packed and you’re on a plane to a remote island. the only obligation is you need to end up with scaramouche at the end of the show, whether you end up liking him or not doesn’t matter to your managers as long as the show’s ratings stay high. whatever you do in between to get there is up to you!

notes — it’s my exam week so all i have to give you is profiles for now </3

taglist is closed!

taglist — @na1lea @cindywasneverhere @lunavixia @sheraeera @aestherin @mlaakai @camvrin @retiredmommylover @kitsuvil @iheartpieck @crystalcrys @cartierfiles @loveariel @silly-ez @mochipls @pomeiu @chuuismylife @flowerypesky @creammpuff @justanothertiredreader @boxdisappeared @kissmiere @crucnhice @kissingkzuha @webbywill @kazusboyfriend @s3xpistolss @pjsucks @bunns-wonderland @lordbugs @localgirlywithnolife @kosumos @danfelions @scarasmood @featuredtofu @pinxeajin @herebyaccident0 @scaradooche @pglt19 @chemiru @childesbabygirl @simonisferal @shutingstar @vxcmx @domimiki @ttalgi @esuz @tokkishouse @lilachasawesomehair @xxrexx

[cosmerelists]

Cosmere Characters as Teachers

As requested by @little-cute-pink-horrible-being :)

If Cosmere characters were teachers, what would they teach & what would it be like?

1. Jasnah: History teacher

Let's just say that she has, uh, high expectations of her students.

Jasnah: Anyone can memorize facts and dates. Jasnah: You all will do that, of course, but you will also learn to draw conclusions from those facts, track historical trends, and maybe, if you work hard, you can come up with a theory of your very own. Bravest student: Uh, miss? We are seven. Jasnah: I do not tolerate excuses.

2. Hammond: Philosophy Professor

He has a hardcore group of students who are huge fans of his.

Student 1: Hey, you're in Professor Hammond's class? Student 2: Yeah. Student 1: Isn't he the guy who wrote that book So What if the Poor are Genetically Destined to be Poor? Revolution is Still the Answer? Student 2: That's him. Student 1: And that's why your an anarchist now, huh? Student 2: Listen, he's pretty persuasive.

3. Elend: Political Science Professor

Elend, a Political Science professor at a university, is the sort of teacher who assigns a LOT of reading.

Elend: Remember: politics is for people. Even when the people you serve suck. A lot. Student: You...sound like you're talking from experience? Elend: You have no idea.

4. Shallan: Art Professor

She mainly teaches drawing and painting classes.

Shallan: You all need to decide what your art means to you. Shallan: Whether it be capturing a moment or representing a person's essence or seeing into realms not normally discernable to human eyes--as long as it's art from your soul, it will be right. Student: What, uh, was that last part? Shallan: Art should be from your soul? Student: N-No, the part before that? Shallan: Anyway, everyone start drawing!

5. Painter: Also an Art Professor

I mean, it's literally his name.

Painter: The key to art is repetition. Painter: When a Nightmare is staring down at you, you don't want to be hesitating over what to draw! Student: Professor Nikaro, please, we've been drawing bamboo for a week! Painter: ...I'm not sure what the issue is?

6. Sigzil: Science teacher

Sigzil is one of those general science teachers you get in middle school.

Sigzil: Remember: the key to science is...? Students, as a chorus: Writing things down! Sigzil: That's right! Sigzil: Now let's see what's the heaviest thing we can stick to the wall using glue--last year we managed to stick me to the wall for a couple seconds! Students: [cheering] Sigzil: ...I'm better at this than I would have expected.

7. Wayne: Theater Teacher

Wayne teaches theatre at a high school.

Wayne: Acting is all about not acting. Wayne: You gotta just be the person. Wayne: Understand their past, embody their present... Student: ...wear their hat? Wayne: Exactly!

8. Kaladin: Also a Theatre Teacher

Look me in the eyes and tell me that Kaladin doesn't understand drama.

Kaladin: [talking to an school administrator off to the side while the class watches] And you can tell the school board that the next time they want to cut funding to the arts, I will be there. Kaladin: I will be there at every meeting where even a word of funding reduction is breathed. Kaladin: I will haunt those meetings, carrying pictures of my kids doing their plays and being happy. Kaladin: And I will make them look me in the eyes if they dare to vote to take that away! New student, hesitantly: Performance art? Student: Nah, he always talks that way.

9. Sarene: English teacher

If only because I don't think they have dedicated fencing professors at most places.

Sarene: English is not simply about reading books--it is about learning to think and interpret information. Sarene: You can take the skills you learn in this class and apply them very widely: to understand the news, to read between the lines of what a person says to you, to craft effective rhetoric to get your own way. Sarene: Read everything. Sarene: Remember: you cannot defeat an enemy unless you understand your enemy. Student: ...enemy? Sarene: Don't worry: you'll have enemies when you're older. Student: Yay?

10. Navani: Engineering

Navani would be an engineering professor at a college.

Navani: Your job, students, is to get this ball through that window high up on the wall. You can do it any way you want. Student: I'm immediately seeing: trebuchet. Navani [nodding sagely]: Go with your heart.

11. Pattern: Math teacher

...Listen, I'm not saying he's a good math teacher.

Student: [staring gloomily at their test] Friend: That bad, huh? Student: Mr. Pattern wrote "Mmmm delicious lies" all over it! Friend: So...you failed? Student: Yeah...

12. Raboniel: Chemistry Teacher

She may seem strict, but she actually quite likes kids.

Raboniel: ...And that, students, is how you build a very effective chemical bomb. Students: ... Raboniel: Any questions? Bravest student: Uh, miss? We are seven. Raboniel: So...basically adults, right? Wait, how fast do humans age again? Teacher's aide: [whispering frantically] Raboniel: ...I may have made an error.

[liveontelevision]

Demon Barber | Lucifer X Reader

IT'S DONNNEEEE

FuCk i slaved away on this one but y'all wanted a novel, so here she is!

Content Warning: Smutsmutsmutsmut +18, a little bit of angst and fluff, and Lucifer and Reader being kind of shitty people

☆☆☆

Everybody knew how much of an icon Queen Lillith was. She immediately blew up any form of media when she started uplifting demonkind. As time went on and more sinners were sent to Hell, a ripple effect of styles and trends rang throughout the city. It was important to Lillith to stay up to date with them. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t keep up. She decided to take the opportunity to bring a new face to her team. At that point, the Morningstar family had already hired a handful of imps to keep little things in line, but this was a position that needed the point of view of a sinner on the streets.

Lucky you, you were one of the first sinners to work personally with the most powerful couple in Hell! You weren't that different from anyone else, but you are a chronic people watcher. It was an important hobby that helped you keep up with what everyone was decorating themselves with. A perfect pair of eyes for adorning the most beautiful creatures in the realm in a modern fashion. You started your glamorous job a couple of thousands of years before the Hotel was built. Even with your immense age, you did a surprisingly good job at keeping an open mind and becoming knowledgeable in most cosmetic and costuming work. You managed to make it through every extermination and more in this career. The protection from being housed with royalty definitely had its benefits.

On your first day, you went through Lillith's already existing wardrobe, in awe at the quality and unique aesthetics that she had. Even with your praises on her gowns, she insisted she needed your knowledge of street style incorporated into her wardrobe. You definitely fit into the Pride ring of hell at that point. The queen of Hell needs your personal opinion on what she wears? That went straight to your head. You became the head of a team and were credited with dressing up Lillith in some of her most iconic outfits. It didn't exactly bring you any fame, you weren't advertised or really credited in any other form than writing. Sometimes, if Lillith was put in an outfit she really enjoyed and her makeup and hair lasted through an entire performance, she'd give a little shout-out. You didn't really mind, you loved doing what you did, and the sweet praises Lillith gave you sufficed your need for validation. It felt amazing to see her face plastered all over Pentagram City, and being able to say hey, I did that. The salary helped, too.

As time went on, you noticed how little Lucifer made public appearances. When he did they were exclusively with Lillith at his side. And of course, he looked.. He was definitely a handsome ruler, but he didn’t have a lot of variety in his wardrobe. And it wasn't exactly up to your or Lillith's standards. She would often suggest taking some styling tips from you, almost begging at times, but he would refuse every time. You did little things, steaming and restitching his wardrobe, doing some touch-up makeup for shoots, but his suit? It stayed the same almost every day.

One day, Lucifer suddenly had a change of heart. He looked disheartened but begrudgingly agreed to be dolled up for a shoot that was happening soon. You were almost as ecstatic as Lillith was, getting this chance.

"I want you to give it your all, dear. Maybe I can convince him to do some more in the future if all goes well..." She'd tell you in a hushed tone, the two of you standing in front of the double doors that led to your studio." Do what you do best!" She said cheerfully, her hand on the small of your back. She practically throws you into the room once it's open, leaving you alone with Lucifer. There was no music, none of your other artists had shown up yet, and the only thing you could hear was your breath shaking. You breathed in heavily, then put on your best customer service face as you exhaled. You played professionally at the beginning, but it's always easier having some personality and small talk when you're planning on being in close proximity to clients for so long.

"Your Majesty! I hope you're doing well today, I'm glad you decided to join us this time!" You spoke in your people-pleaser voice, trying to hide the nerves that suddenly washed over your body. "Why the change of heart?" You started questioning, in a desperate attempt to find some sense of small talk with the intimidating figure seated in front of you. As you spoke, you stepped in front of the vanity he was seated at, having to stretch by his crossed legs to lay out your supplies. "I'm doing fantastic. Obviously." He spoke in an aggravated tone. You sucked in your lips, unsure if you should laugh. Luckily he didn't need a response before answering your other question. "You've seen Lily, she can be quite convincing." He puffed out his chest in his seated position, insinuating something vulgar. Your eye twitched, trying your best to not let them roll.

That didn't stop your face from heating up, the image suddenly materializing in your head. You cleared your throat, turning your attention back to the array of makeup brushes and some colored powders you had picked out specifically for this shoot." She is a beauty, I agree." You felt the need to respond in some way before getting to work.

You loved doing your job. No matter who you worked on, you'd always focus on your technique before anything else, which helped calm you down while you delicately held Lucifer's jaw, twisting his head around to get a general idea of what you were working with. You examined a solid purple bruise that decorated his neck before he had the chance to stop you. "Oh! I just - ran into a doorknob. Yeeah.. I.. tripped." He rambled a pathetic excuse, learning away from your touch." Sure, let's go with that." You replied, finally rolling your eyes at his words. "But you said it yourself, the Queen is indeed quite convincing." You teased, twisting around and grabbing a brush. When you went to move behind his chair to start running a comb through his impossibly soft golden hair, you caught how red he had turned at your remark." Oh, it's okay, I'm just teasing. You know how long I've worked on Lillith, I've had to cover way worse." You added, genuinely thinking that would help calm him down. He let out a quiet groan of embarrassment, smacking his hand against his face.

It went silent for a while as you worked on his hair. You saw how it usually was put up, and you didn’t want to scare him with too drastic of a change, so you only added some subtle layers that left it a bit fluffier than normal. You’d stop every now and then, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at your work in the mirror. He'd flinch at your touch each time, leaving you concerned at first, then just giving him a suck it up attitude for the rest of your session. You went on to do something that didn't need your full attention and looked over his shoulder to get a peek at his phone screen that he used as a buffer for the awkward silence. It displayed a little calendar, he swiped through each day mindlessly. "Looks like you have a packed schedule, huh? How's that been going?" He looked up and pulled his phone into his lap, a squint across his face. "It's fine, I'm handling it. It's my job after all, ya know. Important things." He didn't seem to want to get into too much detail, so you let out a nervous chuckle and agreed before immediately finding some music to play to cover your mistake. You were convinced he would fire you at that point. Or worse.

As you finished up, you viewed him from multiple angles, twisting him around in the chair. You leaned down a bit, your eyes at his level then reached both your hands out and took the pieces of hair that framed his face, curling them up a bit at his cheeks. You stepped back again and placed your hands on your hips, letting out a satisfied hum.

He definitely calmed down by the time his hair was done, leaving behind the crude jokes and little rude quips from before. Now onto the makeup. This was far more intimate, so you gave him a quick rundown as you rummaged through your things." Alright, you definitely don't need any makeup, since your skin is perfect, but there's a chance the cameras and the lighting could wash you out, so I'll just use a blurring effect with this pow - " you stopped talking when you saw his confusion." I'm.. I'm gonna doll you up. Basically.." You summarized it bluntly. It was clear to you how uncomfortable he was with being touched excessively, you did your best to accommodate. You applied some translucent powders to his skin, then brightened up the cute little red circles on his face, after mentally kicking yourself for thinking of them as cute. This is the king of Hell, knock it off. You cleaned up the heavy bags under his eyes, then noticed a tired purple hue to his eyelids. Going in with a lilac color, you emphasized them.

As you were gathering some other things, stepping back a bit, he turned his head to look at his appearance in the mirror. He was expecting some ridiculous and dramatic work, but he really just looked brighter. More alert, more alive. He shut one of his eyes to see the color you had added to his lids, "I.. like that.." He spoke quietly and sounded surprised as if he didn't want to admit that to you. You let out a little chuckle, the compliment completely going to your head, before passively scolding him for touching his face before you had finished. He let his hands fall back into his lap with a pout on his face. Adding any color to his eyes or lips required precision, so you were lifting up his face by his chin to do what you do best. You were honestly a little surprised about how well he handled the rest of the session. For someone who's refused any sort of cosmetics for literal centuries, he looked like he was enjoying the pampering.

You had only worked on Lillith before, and even if she was intimidatingly gorgeous, you adapted to being physically close to her. Going into a sort of auto-pilot mode, you held your breath, tracing out his best features. Pulling away to check on his full appearance again, you noticed that he seemed to be holding his breath as well. He finally let it out once you stepped away, his face already a little flushed. You didn't think too much about it, you were mainly annoyed that the composition of the makeup was being thrown off by this sudden blush.

"Well! Once wardrobe comes in, you'll be taken down to set. What do you think?" You stood behind his chair and spun him back around to face the mirror. He leaned in, making sure not to touch his face since you scolded him before. He moved his head around, even admiring the coverage of the hickey that Lillith so generously gifted him." Hm! I suppose this works. As long as Lillith likes it, that is." His voice wasn’t enthusiastic, but you recognized the satisfaction plastered across his face. He looked up to meet your eyes in the reflection of the mirror. "She's right, you are good at what you do, I'll give you that." You gave a little nod and began to pack up your things. "I'm glad it's acceptable, your highness." You pulled up some finger quotes as you spoke the word acceptable. "You were really nice to work on actually, your hair looks great and your face is already near perfection, so I didn't need to do much. Plus, you sat very well." You spoke nonchalantly, compliments like that coming as second nature in this field.

You turned once more and bowed your head a bit before sending a smile his way. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he was struggling to stiffen a grin. He cleared his throat, covering his mouth with his fist and looking to the side. "G-Good.. Glad you enjoyed the.. Uh - Enjoyed it.." His voice muffled behind his hand. You didn't overthink his nervous reaction since you were in a hurry to get Lillith ready next. "Oh, for sure! I hope I see you around more often! I'm sure the shoot will be great." You chimed in, finally dipping out of the room as a crowd of imps barged in, finishing up his look.

The rest of the day was spent getting Lillith ready for the shoot, which took considerably longer than Lucifer's preparations. The whole time you chatted with her about how Lucifer did, calling her out on the damned bruise that you had to cover up, and general catch-up that had become routine at this point. Once everything was up and moving, you floated around the set fixing up some small details on both Lillith and Lucifer's look when needed. And of course, the shots they got were fantastic. You couldn't stop yourself from admiring your work once the posters and advertisements were distributed.

That was the first time you worked with Lucifer. Not much changed after, you became a little more popular around the staff; getting complimented on how you dressed him and answered some silly questions about what he was like. You did see him around more often, and you’d make small talk. After a few weeks, while working on Lillith, she brought up another shoot that was proposed for a big event coming up. "And get this! Lucifer asked me to put him in the shoot!" She was absolutely giddy to tell you the news. "Well, of course, he wants to be in the shoot, it's because I prettied him up so well!" You bragged in a joking tone, making Lillith let out a sultry chuckle. She placed her hand over yours, a sincere smile across her already-painted lips. "Thank you, dear. He needs the pampering sometimes." You blushed at the sudden contact and grinned in response.

---

Lucifer did in fact join that shoot. The process was about the same, but he seemed to engage in conversation more and asked more questions about what you were doing at each step. It warmed your heart to talk about your passions, you were unknowingly gushing about your interests every time he asked.

As the years went on, he joined more and more shoots, accompanied Lillith to more public appearances, and generally just wanted your opinions on his looks more often. It didn't take long for you two to become close. He'd ask for help on outfits, sometimes becoming a nervous wreck about what to wear on dates. With his wife. It was adorable the way he worried about how he looked after being with Lillith for so long and essentially running a new world together. He seemed to really enjoy having his hair and makeup done, occasionally making a fuss if you weren't the one to do it. You would scold him, talking about how he's wasting your time, and that you trained each of your stylists, so he has to trust them. He pouted the whole time.

Being around the power couple of the century unfortunately had its flaws. Like having to witness its downfall. Both of them became quieter a decade or two before Lillith's disappearance. Any time you'd try and tell a funny story about Lucifer to Lillith, she would change the topic almost immediately. On the opposite end, Lucifer wasn't supplying you with the same amount of jokes and puns as usual and reverted back to flinching at your touch. You couldn't ask about what was going on, that'd be rude.. Right?

"You know, Lillith was just talking about some sort of Gala for the Sins, are you going with her?" You had some hidden intentions by bringing this up while you were fixing Lucifer up for his day. "A Gala, huh? Haven't heard anything about that, so - I guess not!" He blurted out, clearly irritated. Shit. " Are.. Are you okay? Is something going on?" You leaned against the back of the vanity, stopping what you were doing to give him your full attention." Well, if you want to talk about it, that is.. Aaand as long as I won't get in trouble by asking." You shrugged and crossed your arms over your chest. That happened once or twice, but it was for little things; spoiling an anniversary gift one time, or accidentally getting an imp fired when you were venting about workplace struggles. "Yeah, of course it's okay! We're fine. It's fine. I'm fine! Stop asking so many questions!" He got increasingly aggressive as he spoke, you threw your hands up, stepping away and returning to the back of his chair. "Okay, okay! I believe you, jeez!" You responded to it as a joke, hoping you could recover.

You didn't talk about it after that, lifting his mood a bit by asking about his projects and other little things. As you finished up his hair, you noticed him closing his eyes and leaning his head into your hands as you ran your fingers through his hair to coat it with some kind of styling product. He'd fallen asleep in the past, so you didn't worry about it too much. You went on to work on his makeup. He asked you recently if you wouldn’t mind coming up with a more subtle everyday look for him. Apparently he just really liked your work. Or, he needed the pampering. Either way, you couldn't refuse.

He was loving the treatment today. He would hum every time you used your thumb to brush a speck off his cheek, and would start leaning forward when you stopped touching him. You pushed him back by his chest mindlessly, just needing him to sit back in his chair.

You then started to apply makeup to his eyes. Covering the bags underneath them became increasingly difficult throughout the years. You pulled him in like usual, your hand lightly leading his head up towards your face. When you paused at some point to evaluate whatever you were doing, he suddenly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting yours, then flashing a quick peak at your bust that had been accentuated by your stance. He leaned back, a nervous look on his face.

"Um, hello?? I was kind of in the middle of something! That’s it. Tell me what’s wrong." You scoffed, confusion and irritation plastered across your face. He quickly dismissed it, letting you work again. He could feel your shallow breathing fan across his face as you went on. His breath was picking up, heart rate elevating as you kept this proximity. The leather on the armrests of his chair squeaked as he gripped his claws into the fabric.

After a while, you silently leaned back, only now noticing him falling apart. He leaned in slightly, dropping his jaw to let out a shaky breath. He would've hit your face if you hadn't stepped away. Possibly even met your lips.

"Uh – Your higness..?" You were oblivious, so you decided to question this behavior. He popped his eyes open and immediately leaned back into his chair." A-Are you done yet?" He squeaked out, examining the damage he had done to your chair with a nervous chuckle. "I'll uh.. I'll get you a new chair." He muttered, before looking into the mirror for just a moment. "Looks good to me! Excellent job as usual, my dear, I better get going, I have a meeting to get to so – " You watched in silent confusion, seeing him squirming and screwing up his words. He quickly stood up, not assessing how close he would be to you and how close your back was to the vanity. You stumbled backward, placing your hands on the vanity to keep yourself from falling any farther, and acting as a buffer between the counter and Lucifer. He tripped over your stumbling feet, his flailing arms landing beside yours. You were effectively trapped, his knee had bent between your legs while trying to find his balance.

A moment of silence. All you heard was the beating of your heart ringing in your ears. He looked down at you in a way that clouded your judgment. Neither of you said anything, but you fluttered your eyes shut subconsciously. He did the same, then cocked his head to the side and slowly lean into your face. He roped his arm around your waist, pulling you forward a bit, but not quite flush to his chest. Yet. You felt his shaky breath fanning over your lips, before snapping back into reality. "No! Nope - " You quickly broke free of his arms and began cleaning up your things, avoiding his gaze as it followed you frantically getting your things together. "You have a meeting, right? I just finished up, so you should be all good now! I'll just – I-I'll see you around! Have a good day, sir!" You quickly left the room, not letting him get a single word in. He reached out to you as you left as if that would suddenly draw you back towards him, but of course, it did nothing. "Well, shit." He let out bluntly, waiting for a moment in your own studio before b-lining it back to his office.

What the fuck was that?

You avoided Lucifer after the incident, and he seemed to respect that. He let one of your stylists do his daily pampering, knowing that stopping that routine would cause too much suspicion. He didn't enjoy it as much, but stopping altogether would make Lillith ask about it. Fuck. Lillith. A flood of emotions wash over you. In reality, you were closer to Lillith than her husband. You two gossiped and chatted on the daily. It was a struggle to face her after this, but what choice did you have? 

She was completely silent during her last few sessions, so you drowned out your guilty thoughts with music. She disappeared a few years after that. You absolutely panicked. So did many of the staff members, but your sole concern was if it was your fault. You were quick to find Lucifer after the announcement was made, only to see him in your studio, running his hands across the rack of gowns that Lillith had left. "Lucifer. What happened? Where did she go? What did she say?" You rambled approaching him, but being careful not to get too close. "She didn't say anything. She left a half-assed note, and she's just.. Gone." He pulled a dress into his arms and gripped it tightly before letting it drop to the floor. He let out a vicious roar, throwing the rack to the side." How could she do this?! What about the kingdom? What about Charlie? Dammit.. What did I do?? We slept next to each other that night.. The same night she left… I-I could’ve stopped her, I should've - She just disappeared..!" He rambled on, quickly unraveling in front of you. You watched his tail and horns start to form, and you hesitantly gripped his shoulder. He finally stopped, taking a deep breath before turning to face you. He hadn't looked into your eyes since..

His horns shrunk back into his temples before he let his head fall onto your shoulder. You almost stepped away, but.. He needed this. And you needed answers. "Sir.. Was it because.. Did she leave because of me..?" You spoke softly, your breath a cool sensation against his heated skin. He quickly shot up, planting his hands on your shoulders and looking at you with a stern expression. "No! No, I promise it wasn't your fault. Fuck, none of that was your fault. She.. I-I'm not sure why she left, but that's not your burden to bear." He spoke calmly, a stark contrast to the raging mess he just displayed moments ago. 

You two stood there for a while, his hands drifted down to hold your arms. What was he supposed to do now? He looked around the room for some kind of answer. Before he could realize what was happening, he was pulled into a tight embrace, his head just barely reaching the top of your shoulder. "It's gonna be okay.. I’ll be here, Lucifer. No matter what." It felt.. weird for a moment. This was the first time you'd gotten close to him this way. And actually, the first time you'd said his name without any sort of title. He let out another exhausted sigh, his hands snaking around your back and accepting the much-needed affection. As his head pressed against your collarbone, you stood there until he decided he’d had enough. You were there for a while.

It wasn't Lucifer's fault, but after that, you didn’t work much. There really wasn't a lot to do, without someone pushing public appearances and emphasizing the importance of image, you generally just mended and fixed up the staff's uniforms and Lucifer’s wardrobe. You were technically a stylist, but you've been doing this long enough that you could handle these jobs entirely by yourself. Actually, you did handle the job by yourself. Lucifer fired or sent most of the previously employed stylists away, along with most of the staff. About five years into Lillith's disappearance, the place had widdled down to a handful of workers. Some in the kitchen, basic housekeeping, a noisy secretary to answer some calls, and you. You started to question why he kept you around. You hated to admit that you still blamed yourself for Lillith leaving, but why else would she suddenly disappear? She was cold to you as soon as you kissed – almost kissed – Lucifer that day. You tried your hardest to avoid that thought process since you stuck around the mansion.

You were surprised to find out that Lucifer accepted an invitation to be on the cover of a magazine for Helluva Times. He hadn't needed makeup or hair done since Lillith left, and in reality, you barely saw him around. You were ashamed about how excited you were to see him again. Of course, it won't be the same as before, but you were looking forward to it nonetheless. You were taken to the studio where the shoot was being held since the one in the mansion was turned into more of a workspace for mending clothing. The studio was brightly lit and bustled with imps and some stylish sinners doing their part. You wondered if It was always like this, or if it was just because of Lucifer. You approached the vanity, the king of Hell seated in a movie set chair, with a golden star on the back, his name embroidered to the center. You were stopped in your tracks when you saw the dark circles that surrounded his eyes. Jesus, he was exhausted. You weren’t exactly surprised, more like distressed. Now that you think about it, Lillith really did a lot of heavy lifting when it came to keeping Hell in line.

"Your Highness." You gave him a little smile and nodded your head, beginning to display your usual setup on the vanity in front of him. "Heyyy! You..! Good to see you, Ahha.. ha.. h-how've you been..? How's... work been..?" He put on a fake smile and propped his head on his hand in a sad attempt to act casual. He switched to crossing his arms, unable to sit still and make eye contact with you at the same time. You didn't know how to react. The last time he was this nervous, he ended up pinning you to a table with his arms around you. You quickly got to work, trying to get the image of that day out of your head.

You go to comb his hair, recognizing that it's been a while since he let anyone tend to it; it was nearly grown to the bottom of his neck and wasn't exactly the cleanest. "Do you have wrinkle-free, clean, clothes every day?" You asked in response to his nervous ramblings from earlier. He nodded slowly," Then work is fine." You picked up on the sudden attitude you had, and it even surprised you. He quickly shut his mouth and started to spin the wedding band on his finger as a nervous fidget.

You had to put some effort in since he wasn't getting the same attention he used to. You gave his golden locks some much-needed attention, running a number of products through them and taking the time to restore it to its usual length. You found yourself peaking at his face every now and then, which he didn't notice. He was too indulgent to even keep his eyes open. You tried to stop yourself from looking at his relaxed expression, but you found yourself turning away only when he opened his eyes. You checked the clock, you definitely had some time for a more thorough session. You dug your fingers just a bit deeper into his hair, lightly running your nails across his scalp. In several swirling motions, you had him melting in your hands. You had to stop every now and then and push his head back up after it lulled to the side. It usually kept him alert for a moment, but it never lasted long. He let out a subtle hum every now and then, making you bite your lip in some attempt to keep whatever you were feeling at bay.

After you finished your little massage, you quickly finished up his hair, giving him a very-needed trim and styling it to its usual glory. You instinctively placed your hands on his shoulders once you finished and leaned in a bit to look at the results.

"So? What do you think? You needed a haircut, sir, you should… keep in touch.. If you need me, I'm here." A grin grew on your face and he couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of your smiling face. He turned his head to the left and the right, reaching up to touch his face delicately. He was less worried about messing it up and more worried about you scolding him for it. He let out a little huff and he opened his mouth, with no words coming out. It took him a moment." It's great, but uhh.. Could you do the – " He spun his fingers around his cheeks," you know, the.. Little loopy.. Bits..?"

God, what a cutie.

You let out a little chuckle and nodded, turning his chair to face you." My bad, how could I forget the loopy bits?" You teased, reaching out to either side of his head. Your hands lulled over his cheeks for some reason you wouldn’t explain. Finally, you untucked the bits of hair from behind his ears, pulling them forward and twirling them with your fingers. You placed your hands on your hips, still bent to be at his eye level.

"There. Ready for makeup, Lucifer?" Your words didn't come naturally, it took you a few seconds to debate whether or not to call him by his name. With his voice cracking in an attempt to respond, he just nodded, attempting to keep some dignity intact. You did your best to act professional, despite his lovely reactions. You started as you usually did, applying an easy base and highlighting his rosy cheeks. You never needed to do much to his face, and even after all this time, you still didn’t need to. Must be his angelic abilities, that his skin never really changes. You shrugged off the thought, getting ready to focus on his eyes. Instead of keeping his chin up, you took a light hold of his jaw, your fingers grazing his neck and your thumb placed dangerously close to the side of his lips. You both reacted to this new method, but you quickly went to work to prevent any more eye contact.

You took your time and it was clear neither of you cared to bring it up. He was past his call time, but when some poor stylist working for the news team came in to get him, Lucifer used his threatening status to give you both more time. After you finished covering the dark rings surrounding his eyes and prettying them up a bit, you mirrored your other hand and essentially cupped his cheeks. You did your best to make it look like it was for work purposes, but damn you were enjoying this. Such a beautiful creature in the palm of your hands, looking away because he was too embarrassed to meet your eyes." Look forward, please?" You spoke softly, lightly tapping his cheek to get him to follow your commands. He let out a huff, then finally prepared himself to look into your eyes. The noisy workers coming in and out of the room suddenly disappeared, the room going silent. He had your complete focus, and suddenly there was nothing more important than gazing into his red eyes. His hand moved to your wrist, holding one of your hands in place while he pressed his cheek against your palm. What a sight. You leaned in, not knowing what would happen, but also not really caring. Any chance to get close to –

"Alright your Highness, we're gonna need you on set in five." The harsh sounds of the room suddenly returned, a Hellhound making a more stern request to get this shoot over with. You quickly stood straight, taking up a brush and fixing up the small smudges you had created by holding him. "Rrright! Yup, pretty sure we're almost done, sooo... I'll be right there..! Thanks." He clenched his pointed teeth, as he thanked the brute, who walked off with a scoff. "Good golly – I'm their king! What gives that mutt the right to – " He stopped his rambling once he saw your sheer embarrassment. He took it as a sign that he went too far, that just maybe, he read you wrong.

He turned his head, looking back to his reflection and tracing his little curls with his fingers before letting out a satisfied hum. "Great work as always, my dear." He stood from the chair, stretching his stiff legs with a groan." I should uhm – I'm gonna get going, I have to.. Do the.. Thing – with the thing.." He walked backward towards the exit, pointing over his shoulder. "You mean go to set and get the shots? Hope everything goes okay, sir." You chuckled, going back to cleaning some things up. "Okay, well – oh! Thank you! Right, forgot that part. So, thanks..!" He just kept talking. Like he might never see you again once he left the room. "My pleasure, Lucifer." You hummed, still attending to your tasks. Oh, you should’ve seen the winded look on his face. He let out a wheezing chuckle, tripped over himself, then finally left the studio.

Once all your things were neatly tucked away, you were invited to the shoot. They had an extensive team of people behind the scenes, so you got the chance to just observe the process. They had him run through a number of poses, some regal, some more.. Provocative. Just for fun, they said. It made you cringe, it definitely wasn't his style. Finally deciding on a composition, he had his arms crossed over his chest, and he rested his thumb just below his chin, drawing your eye to his devilish smirk. How could someone who's been hurt as badly as he has, smile for the cover of a magazine?

You made some mental notes on his makeup and his hair, which they squished down with a comically oversized tophat. Trying to keep your mind purely professional became increasingly difficult when he kept looking over at you, his smile twitching every time. He must be tired. That’s clearly why he's acting this way.

"All right, we got it! Wrap it up, people!" An aggressive shout took you away from your phone screen, and you looked around at the rush of workers. You tried to catch anyone's attention to see if you could help with anything, but you never got anyone's attention. It was definitely a change of pace from your past experience, considering you were the lead on a team that really only dressed two people, even if they were royalty. By the time you got back to the studio, it was basically cleaned out, other than your little cart with all the supplies you brought from home. You assumed you were good to go straight home and find something to do other than feeling up the king of Hell; speak of the devil!

"Oh! I.. didn't know you were still here, I thought you left..?" A soft, and mildly raspy, voice came from the door, making you catch Lucifer's eyes in the reflection of the vanity you stood in front of. "No, I was enjoying the show." You leaned against the tabletop after turning to face him, a little smirk on your face. "You did good, by the way. The shots came out really well." You pulled up some of the shots that the company sent to your phone. "These are some very handsome photos.. You're welcome, by the way." You were gloating. He had walked forward to get a better look at your phone screen, squinting his eyes like he needed glasses, despite it being impossible for him to have poor vision. He scoffed at your comment, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well don't let it go straight to your head, dear, you didn't do all the work. I'm just naturally gorgeous, right? You used to say that all the time." He nodded his head to either side as he spoke like he was winning some argument.

"Well, I meant it and it's still true. So, don't let that get to your head." You responded like you were trying to one-up him. He immediately turned red. He can shoot his shots, but deflates at any quick or clever rebuttals." W-Well! I'll try not to.. T-thanks for being here. Not like, here, but like – helping with the shoot, and doing meee – my hair! Love my hair, came out great." Good job, Lucifer. You startled him by running your hands through his locks, attempting to fix up the mess they made by putting a heavy hat on him." Ugh, they ruined it.. It should be an easy fix, I guess... that stupid hat." You grumbled, running your hands along the sides of his head to smooth it out. He was biting his lip when you sent him a quick look." I-I like the hat..." He said weakly. You couldn’t help but let out a little laugh, beginning to pull your hands away. Clawed hands took hold of your wrists, keeping them hovered on either side of his face. "You said... that you'd be there for me no matter what. Do you remember that..?" He relaxed his face, but his hands were shaking just a bit. You nodded slowly.” Well, I’m - I appreciate that.. And you.. I-I appreciate you..”

“If you still.. I don't know, it's been a few years since – but if you still wanted to.. Ugh, dammit..! I don't know how to – " He stuttered over his words, becoming visibly upset, something stopping him from speaking coherently. You couldn't assume he was talking about the little incident from years ago, but if it was still on your mind after all that time, maybe it was still on his. He stepped forward just a bit, his grasp still lightly holding your wrists, keeping him close to you. Waiting for you to respond to a question he never really asked, he gulped, then let out a breathy, fuck it. In one fell swoop, he released your hands and immediately pulled you into a tight embrace. This wasn't like before, this wasn't to console him. His hands were wrapped around your back and cradled the base of your neck, leaving no space between the two of you.

Your entire body tensed, the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in was knocked out of you, and your arms were stuck with your hands pressed against his chest. He loosened his grasp as soon as he held you, but never actually let you go. His head had sunk into your shoulder, trying to hide some kind of adorable expression, you were sure. You had the opportunity to push him away, nothing was truly keeping you there. Physically, at least.

As you stood still, deciding what your next move would be, you'd feel him adjusting his head and turning it to plant his cheek on your collarbone, his breath hot against your chest. You knew he had to feel how hard and fast your heart was beating with how he was nuzzling into you. Focusing on one thing at a time, you tugged your arm out of his hold and lifted his face upwards, at least preventing him from being too close to your rapid heart rate. The next problem was your noses almost touching due to how close you were. His eyes were wide, full of some sort of desperation or fear, and a little bit of excitement. Your fingers still lightly hovered under his chin, and you could feel his pulse. Just as fast as yours, maybe even faster.

You felt him gulp, his face now heating up. Maybe the look in your eyes was too much for him to handle. You looked at the vanity that was just a few feet away. That should make him understand. Taking small steps backwards, which he didn’t understand, but also didn’t question, you kept moving until you felt the table hit your back. You leaned back slowly, forcing him to brace himself against the table to keep his balance. His eyes darted around as it clicked finally. You had put yourself in the same position that you were in years ago. His hands caged you in, and his knee sat between your legs for stability. You remembered it so clearly, you had no trouble bringing the two of you right back to where you left off. You took one of his arms and guided it to support you by the small of your back, then snaked your arms around his shoulders. Then, you closed your eyes and just waited. Just sitting there, anticipation bubbling in your stomach.

Before you knew it, he had softly pressed his lips against yours. You jumped at first, startled by something you were waiting so patiently for. You felt his lips pull away in response, but you were quick to pull his shoulders in, closing the gap again. He let out a little cry against your lips, as you pulled him even closer by wrapping your arms around his neck. He kept one hand at your back and sent the other to your outer thigh, slightly lifting your leg to sit against his hip. With a more secure hold on you, he leaned forward further, until you felt the back of your head hit the mirror with a light thump. "Mmph! Are you okay?" He pulled away for a moment to ask, which only upset you even more. You looked at him as if the answer was obvious, and fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling your lips back together. Clearly, you were fine.

Becoming intoxicated by your lips, he practically begged for a more intimate kiss. He placed a hand on your chin, pulling your mouth ajar with his thumb and quickly entering his tongue in your mouth. The sudden motion left you muttering incoherent praises onto his lips. He pulled away, leaving you in a daze. Once you regained your focus, you were able to reassess your situation. You had slid down the entirety of the vanity, your back fully against the cold material of the counter. One of his hands were propping himself up directly above you, the other still holding your leg, and keeping you from moving away as he pulled you impossibly closer. While letting you catch your breath, he sent a few kisses down your jaw and neck, making you grip his shoulders and hold your breath. He pulled himself away after pressing another quick peck on your lips. "Hey. Breathe. I'll take care of you, don't worry - " How dare he. How could he act so flustered when you did his hair and applied his makeup for literal centuries, then tell you to calm down? You scoffed and smashed your lips back against his, mainly to shut him up, but he wasn’t complaining.

He let out a little yelp against your lips, struggling to keep up with your sudden change of pace. Running your hands through his hair, ruining all the hard work you put into it, you lightly tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. A shakey sigh met your lips, as you took control of the situation, taking the opportunity to explore his mouth with your own tongue.

After this went on for what felt like forever, which you didn’t really mind, you pulled away to breathe. Looking up to him, your eyes explored the lipstick that messily covered his lips. You tipped his head upward by his chin forcing him to look at himself in the vanity's mirror. He let out a pathetic little wheeze, looking back down at you with a suddenly confident smirk." Beautiful work as always, my dear." He spoke flirtatiously, "You missed a spot, though." Dipping his head back downwards and indulging in your warm presence for as long as he could.

You were clawing at his back, untucking his shirt as you struggled to keep a hold of him. Both your legs had spread, making your hips flush against his. He kept you close, as he nipped and kissed across your collarbone, his sharp teeth grazing your skin without hesitation.

Sucking on the softest part of your neck, you let out a breathy moan and arched your back into his chest. The sudden motion sent friction to his lower half, making him release his teeth and suddenly bolt upwards. The reaction made you nervous, "I-I don't - I haven't.. It's been… Awhile.." He stammered out, putting an emphasis on the word awhile." I know, It's okay." He winced at your nonchalant remark, remembering how often you witnessed his last relationship essentially fall apart, as you went back to kissing his neck. He gently pulled himself away. "Nono, it's been awhile- awhile… I hadn't been close with.. anyone… for a couple.. Decades..?" He spoke nervously like he was embarrassed to admit it. You sat up for a moment, making him question whether or not he should've said anything." But.. It's only been five years, right?" You weren't sure if this was the best time to be getting into this, but these are answers you’ve been wanting for years.

"I don't know what happened, sweetheart, but we lost what we had long before any of this. I'm sorry if you thought.. I can't have you take on that burden.. Okay?" He cupped your face, shifting to a more tender approach. You tried piecing things together in your mind, which was still cloudy from the past few hours. Of course, that still doesn’t make what you two did right. Of course, you blamed yourself after all this time. He pulled you out of your thoughts, by tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and keeping his tender hold on your cheek. You couldn’t help but smile and nuzzle your face into his hand.

"We can stop if you want, love." Oh how you wanted to say stop. To say that you were terrible people for even feeling this way after all this time, while he was with his wife. Who also happened to be your employer. How scandalous. "No, I want this." You said without a hint of hesitation in your voice. It shocked him a bit, but he didn’t have much time to react before you leaned forward, unbuttoning his coat and pushing it off his shoulders. You pulled him in by his collar again, continuing to remove his vest, then opening his shirt, letting it hang open loosely, his white skin just barely peeking out. He shrugged comically, before going back to working on your neck, pulling at the hem of your blouse that had already fallen to your shoulders.

He ran his hands along your curves, eliciting a shiver down your spine. You reached your hands into his open shirt, your warm hands trailing across his even warmer chest. Your physical pleasure was subdued for a moment, absolutely in awe. "You have beautiful skin, Lucifer." Your voice was breathy, he lulled his head to the side, melting at your words and intimate touch. After a moment he let out a sweet chuckle and shrugged his top completely off. "So I've been told." Implying your constant praises from before, he puffed his chest out.

Oh, he was loving this. You sat up, your legs just at the edge of the countertop as you arched your back into him, closing the gap between your hips. You started by pressing a little kiss on his cheek, his face heating up even after all he's done to you. You then, moved your way down to work your lips across his neck and collarbone. Gently tracing his spine with one hand the other traveled downward as you pulled his hips into yours. Messaging his hip and continuously running your fingers along the center of his back, you sent him into sensory overload. You weren't surprised by the sudden bulge you felt hitting your center, in fact, you reveled how that confirmed you were doing a good job. You began sucking and biting on the skin, stopping to let out breathy mewls into his ear. The massaging of his hip turned into you pulling him in, then pushing him away slightly, only to viciously repeat the motion, forcing him to start grinding against you. Your hand on his back continued to trail up and down his spine, only you started to drag your nails across his skin as well, digging in a bit harder whenever you heard his voice hitch. You let your fingers slip into his pants every now and then, the cool sensation of your hands making him let out a little whimper.

"Your skin really is perfect, Lucifer. You are entirely beautiful. You're absolutely stunning, my king." You hummed into his ear, your skilled hands continuing to drive him crazy. He could barely keep up, his head falling back whenever you'd reach up to run your fingers through his hair. "K-Kiss me.." You heard him almost whisper, making you pull back for a moment to assess his stature. He had his hands on your hips, to keep you close, but also to keep him standing on his swaying feet. "I-I need you to.. kiss me.. Please.." He spoke in choppy sentences, he was too lost in his own pleasure to keep his head up, so you kept it forward by cradling the back of his head. When his head would start to droop too far forward, you gave his hair a light tug to remind him where he was. Did he need permission? You enjoyed the 180 he had made from the flirtatious tease just moments ago, humming in thought and tapping your chin like you were still deciding. Like you were considering not kissing him as passionately as he could handle.

He was lightly grinding his hard-on into you but still seemed patient enough to wait for your answer. "Well.. Since you said please." You finally said after far too long. He let out a sigh of relief as you inched towards him. You left your lips just over his, only letting him feel your heated breath against his lips. He shifted his stance but never moved towards you. You brushed your lips against his, not locking them together, just barely grazing them. He let out an impatient groan, his eyes clenched shut as you teased him so cruelly. Who knew this is what would bring tears to his eyes? You ran your hands up his chest, then dug your nails into him as you went back down. You finally met his lips, deciding he had enough after you wiped away a tear from his watering eyes. You don't know how he still managed to keep the kiss so tender after acting so desperate beforehand. You continuously wiped the tears off his face, keeping your hands on his face and caressing his cheeks with your thumbs. As you pulled away, he followed your lips, disappointed in the sudden disconnect. He took the silence and the look on your face as a sign, that he needs to tell you what he wants.

He dropped to his knees, the warmth you had sitting between your legs was hit with the cool air of the room as he did. He kept his hands off of you and himself but fiddled with his thumbs to keep them busy in some way. He took in a deep breath, before speaking quickly," Can I taste you?" His voice was embarrassingly loud like he was just waiting and waiting to finally say it. It sort of shocked you, you assumed he’d be nervous after admitting he hadn't done this in a while. You pulled your legs together, finally feeling how wet you were becoming, but needing to commit to the bit. You crossed your ankles to furth prevent access. "I suppose so.. But what do you saay?" you reached down and tapped the tip of his nose, as you dragged out your words like you were speaking to a child. "Please..! I need to touch you, please.." He quickly replied, with no hesitation at all. "Good boy." That was it for you.

You realized you sealed your fate, as you felt him take a hold on your knees and pull them back apart gently. He moved forward until he could rest his head on your plush thigh, which he did for a while. He lifted your skirt up to your waist, then took a moment to appreciate the view. You were finally becoming a bit embarrassed, attempting to close your legs instinctively, but he pushed your legs farther apart, keeping a tight hold onto your thighs. When he looked up at you, his eyes were wide and innocent, as if he wasn’t keeping your legs apart and wiggling his hips to give some much-needed friction to his own growing problems.

He blinked, then looked back down, trailing his clawed finger across your wet underwear. You covered the sounds you were making with the back of your hand, still struggling to keep your legs open for him. He bent his finger and pressed it deeply into your still-clothed entrance. The sensation of the fabric digging into you made you groan, but that didn’t affect him at all. He licked his lips and began gathering spit in his mouth and he pushed your legs back in place, keeping them apart this time. Running his forked tongue across your panties, you squirmed under his touch. As he lapped at the fabric, the heat from his breath and the wetness he was coating you with caused you to fall back onto your forearms. "L-Lucifer - " You said weakly, quickly drawing his attention. "This is cruel." You pouted, continuing to let out a little whimper as he kept running two of his fingers across your underwear.

He cocked his head to the side as if he didn’t understand the damage he was doing. He was playing dumb." Oh? I'm sorry, love, how should I touch you then?" He was way too calm for your liking. He let one of his fingers just graze the hem, only touching a bit of your skin. You let out an annoyed groan, and move your underwear to the side, guiding the tip of his finger to your entrance. With your hand holding his wrist, you pushed his fingers inside of you, a strange sensation to say the least. It was embarrassing. He noticed your discomfort and finally dropped the act, sending you a sweet smile and kissing your thigh before starting to pump his fingers inside of you.

You let out a sultry moan, a mixture of relief and pure pleasure finally hitting you as you felt him add another finger without any real warning. You lulled your head back, not able to see his absolute focus on matching the rhythm of his fingers to the circling of your clit. Before you could fully comprehend, he pulled his hands away and back onto your thighs, delving into your center with a heated, open-mouthed kiss. Letting out a gasp, he delved into your folds, his tongue easily slipping from your entrance and back up to your clit. He lifted a hand to continue to slowly rub his thumb in small circles, so he could focus his tongue on thrusting in and out of your entreance with ease.

He showed no sign of faltering as you bucked into his face, desperate for more of him. Your hands moved to his hair, taking a tight hold as he hit right where he was supposed to. He scrunched his face, letting out a low growl as you yanked at his scalp, the vibrations startling you in a wonderful way. He only sped up when you started to babble about being close, letting your thighs tighten around his face as you finish into his lips. He continues his rapid pace, the adrenaline from being squeezed by your shaky legs taking over. You finally pulled his head away from you after the pleasure of overstimulation started to ache in your core. You sunk backward, your body twitching on occasion.

He planted a kiss on your thigh before rising back to his feet. He leaned into you, the fabric over his groin coated in your juices the longer he pressed in. He pecked your temple, looking at you, completely unphased." Too much? How did I do..?" He seemed genuinely interested in whether or not he did a good job." Y-you did.. Great.. It was g-good.. Felt good.." You gave a pathetic thumbs up as you caught your breath." W-what happened to the whole it's been a while thing? Fuck, Lucifer." You sat up finally seeing that he split the fabric of your underwear at some point to gain better access." Guess I've still got it." He said with a smirk, waggling his eyebrows at you. You couldn’t take him seriously. Your wetness and lipstick stained his mouth, the eyeliner you had applied had ran down his cheeks and rubbed under his eyes. Not to mention, he was covered in your marks. It's fine you can cover those, you thought. Even with his sudden burst of dominance, you took pride in the fact that this was all because of you. He was all yours.

☆☆☆

If you're curious, that one is pushing 10k words ;)

(Tagging some people who might appreciate it) @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @bat-boness @christineblood

[kaiyunsim]

Spotlight Collab —

~ requested / suggested ! ~

pairing : idol!jake x western artist male!reader

summary : the reader’s music get popular enough to reach the one and only Jake Sim who want’s to collab with him.

warnings : crack, maybe swearing (i dont remember sorry)

a/n : hope you guys enjoy! first oneshot and i would be so down to write a pt 2 to this :> (also sorry anon for taking forever for this to release !)

— (w/c : 1.1k) — not proof read —

Y/n is a well-known artist, one who is also well known to have a part of his heart dedicated to a certain someone. Being as successful as he is, he’s had his fair share of interviews over some of his songs that reached the top hits. Through these interviews, it’s widely known that he had a thing for someone but never shared who it was for. His listeners and fans were always curious but wouldn’t think much about it. After all, songs have to be based on something and y/n having someone to think about helps his songs become more relatable.

Y/n had just finished one of his concerts, he was touring in smaller venues to connect with fans and have fun performing. During the concert, a fan had yelled that someone covered his song. Curiosity flows into y/n as he hears these words but continues the concert.

Going back to the finished concert, y/n first checked twitter and was surprised to see many new notifications and followers. What happened to them to get this recognition? He also clicks on the explore page to see that there is a new hashtag trending ‘#jakey/ncover’. Wondering what this tag is talking about, y/n clicks on it and sees a video, the thumbnail being the one and only Jake Sim.

At first, he thinks it’s just some edit to his song, his fans like to do edits to kpop idols and y/n would secretly watch them for fun. To his surprise, it was a video of a recent live that the Aussie boy had. Once y/n clicked on it he was immediately greeted with the wonderful voice of Jake singing one of his own songs on stream. Jake looked like he was feeling it too, hand holding an invisible mic while closing his eyes to immerse himself into the music fully.

Something that y/n’s fans didn’t know was that he had a hidden admiration for Jake so seeing him like this, enjoying the music that he fully produced, made his heart flutter. To his surprise, Jake singing his song wouldn’t be the only thing in the video. Shortly after the end of the song Jake looks to the camera and reads a comment out loud, “Jake and y/n collab when?” Jake chucked at the message, “That would be so cool, I love his music so a collab would be fantastic,”

Y/n was at a loss for words at this point, an idol from the other side of the world was interested in having a collab for a song. faster than he ever typed, y/n makes a playful tweet towards the other male,

collab when? @/enhypen

Just a day later and the tweet blows up. The tweet is now just as trending as the #jakey/ncover tag, if not even more popular. y/n opens his phone and is greeted with many engenes agreeing with the idea of the collab and he finds out that many of them were already fans of him. The cherry on top of the situation is that he received a message from enhypen to actually collab. the words barely even run through his head, enhypen, message, collab. Starstruck at this point, y/n messages back accepting the offer.

Now a few weeks later, y/n still can’t believe the timeline of events that happened. From admiring Jake on the screen to having a collab with him. He just arrived at the Hybe building after being flown out to Korea by Hybe themselves. With nervous steps, y/n makes his way over to the production studio to meet with the producers and managers.

Y/n kindly greets the producers before recording the vocals over the background music, and honestly, he thought it sounded great and couldn’t wait to hear how Jake’s vocals could make it shine further. As he steps out he sees that the Aussie boy himself is waiting on a couch for his turn to record his set of vocals.

It was the first time y/n has seen him in person and he looked exactly as beautiful as he did in the videos and edits y/n saw to his own songs made by fans. The smile that appeared on his lips when he saw y/n didn’t make it any easier for him not to melt right then and there. he gets up from the couch to approach the guest artist.

”Y/n, it’s so nice to see you in person, thanks for accepting the collab,” the idol commented which caused y/n to freak out internally. He couldn’t believe that Jake just said his name, of course, he heard him say it in the video before, but just hearing it in real life made it feel surreal to y/n.

”It’s no problem, and thanks for having me,” y/n manages to reply in a normal tone despite the internal battle going on, a small blush creeping his face, “to be honest, I’m a huge engene so how could I say no?” he continued, causing jake’s eyes to widen in surprise.

”Really? That’s so cool, I’ve been following your music for so long now,” Jake responds, his accent can be heard which makes y/n’s stomach flutter.

A sudden call from the manager ends their short conversation as Jake hustles to the recording room leaving the other with his lingering feelings about the recent conversation. Y/n wishes the conversation could’ve been longer and that it could’ve gone somewhere.

Following the staff’s orders, y/n sits down on the same couch Jake was on, but now he was waiting for Jake to finish up. after some time, the door opens, and out comes the same boy he was waiting for. Jake takes his seat beside y/n as the producers walk up to both of them thank them for their work and that they are free to leave.

Y/n makes his way out to the hallway and Jake follows behind him, “Hey y/n, how long are you staying in Korea?” Jake asks, his iconic smile following his question. once again the blush creeps onto y/n’s face.

”your company let me stay for this week,” the man managed to spit out without stuttering.

”oh that’s good, are you down for me to show you around?” Jake follows with another question.

”uh- yeah sure,” y/n responds, this time stuttering slightly.

soon after, they to men exchange their numbers as well as goodbyes before heading to the next things in their schedules.

[24hlevi]

— THE IDOL

itoshi rin x male!reader

summary: y/n is a famous pop idol, and rin is his biggest fan. what happens when y/n announces his brand new album "mood swings in this order" along with a tour to be held later in the year? surely, nothing too bad. right?

warnings/tags: language, nsfw implications (cum is said)

wc: 2.6 k

chapter one of the PAPARAZZI series

Being a pop star was difficult at times. From dealing with promotions, tours, and interviews, to crazy fans, trolls, and stalkers. But, none of that fazed you. Should it? Compared to some other idols, you went through a bit more than others, purely because of you embracing your sexuality in both the romance aspect and the performance aspect. You weren't afraid to do crazy concepts that would make fans turn and hate on the idol immediately. You definitely weren't afraid to express how you liked men, and while that may have caused a ruckus during your debut, it all worked out in the end somehow.

At the current moment, you were doing a photo shoot for your new album that you were soon to release the first single for. You had been taking photos for at least two hours, and you were getting irritated by the photographer telling you to do the same pose you’d already done fifteen times. After one last shot, you clasped your hands together.

“Can we take ten?” You said it loud enough for everyone to hear.

Murmurs of yes and thank gods came from the staff at your words, and everyone immediately split off into different areas of the house. With a sigh, you got up off the bed and walked outside where the balcony was, looking down at your backup dancers practicing the routine.

“So, how do we feel about the shoot, Y/n?”

You turned your head to see your assistant and best friend, Mikage Reo standing beside you. “Well, I’ve been taking the same photos for hours, how would you feel?”

Reo chuckled and nodded. “I know.” He followed your gaze towards the dancers before speaking more. “How do you feel about the choreo? Is it too hard? Do I need to make any adjustments? Do you not like any of the backup dancers?”

“Reo,” You said, placing both your hands on his shoulders. “Everything is fine, I swear. As long as things don't go shitty, everything will work out amazingly.” You reassured him.

Reo sighed and nodded again. “I guess,” he said. “I just want this album to be your biggest yet, and that's what Anri wants as well. She’s been super stressed recently trying to put all this together.”

“I understand,” You acknowledged, removing your hands from his shoulders. “But everything is going to be fine, stop worrying so much.”

“Okay,” He sighed again and nodded.

Meanwhile, your manager, Anri was dealing with a big problem with some of the other staff.

“What the fuck do you mean?” The woman spat out angrily at their social media manager.

“Look,” They handed Anri the phone.

She looked at the picture and her eyes went wide. “Has this hit the public yet?”

“Yes.”

“Shit,” Anri cursed, handing the phone back. “We have to tell him.”

“Are you serious?” The social media manager looked at her with shock. “What if it causes a breakdown of some kind?”

“He can deal with it. Follow me.” Anri told them, starting to walk to where you and Reo were.

“Y/n!” Anri called your name. “We have a big problem!”

You and Reo both turned to look at Anri speed walking towards you two, making you look at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“This.” Anri shoved the photo in your face. “What the hell were you thinking going to a club with Ryusei and having this happen?!”

Looking at the photo, your eyes widened at the image. “I thought- he told me he deleted it!” You defended.

“And you believed him?!” Anri exclaimed. “Y/n, this is already trending on all social media, and not in a good way. You and Ryusei are not together. But now that everyone has seen this image, it's chaotic. His management isn't responding and either we have to say it's not real or you admit it and we pray this doesn't fuck anything up. So what do you want to do?”

“I guess I should admit-”

“We’ll say it's fake,” Reo cut you off before you could finish, making you look at him with confusion. “This will damage everything if we say that it's real. Can you imagine what the public will think? How are we supposed to hold a tour when they have seen someone's fucking cum on his face?”

“It’s not like Ryusei is some stranger,” You said.

“It’s still not good, Y/n,” Reo replied. “We have to say it’s fake, and hope his management says the same thing.”

“This is the best decision, Y/n,” Anri told you. “This also means you cannot see Ryusei anymore, he is going to damage your whole career if you go out with him again. Do you understand?”

You felt cornered. It was rare for Reo to take this kind of side in things, and it made you feel like you were being cornered into doing what they thought was best. While, usually they were right in matters like this. It was like you had no real control over anything anymore. With a short nod, you responded. “I understand.”

“Good, now get back to finishing the shoot while I figure out how to deal with this,” Anri said before walking back inside the house.

As soon as Anri was out of hearing distance, Reo quickly turned to you. “Dude, what the fuck?”

“What?” You asked, looking back at him. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You look like a whore!” Reo whisper-yelled to you. “Do you understand that? This is not good! Ryusei is going to ruin this whole album! You need to stop seeing him!”

You stared at your friend in slight shock. Yet, you knew he was right. Consistently time after time again Shidou Ryusei has done something to fuck over your reputation leaving you to rebuild it again and again. But, you couldn’t stop seeing him. It was hard. But, you had to stop now. “Okay,” You said quietly, nodding your head.

“Now let’s get back to the shoot,” Reo said, grabbing your arm and pulling you along with him back inside the house.

You sat back down on the bed, adjusting your robe as the photographer came back and stood in front of the bed. You stared at the camera with what they later called a “killer look” that you should’ve had from the very beginning in your debut album. But, they didn’t understand what that look really meant. Not even Reo, who had been your best friend since you two were in middle school. They said the distant look in your eyes was perfect for the album, but they didn’t realize that this was going to end up being just the beginning of things. It was just that no one knew it yet. Not even you.

…

“Y/n, wake up,” Reo’s voice woke you up as he opened the curtains of your room.

You groaned lightly, covering your face with your hands as Reo sighed, walking over to you.

“Come on, you have to get up. We have to talk with PR,” He said, handing you a cup of coffee.

“Oh, great,” You mumbled, sitting up and taking the coffee from him. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”

“Not yet,” Reo shook his head. “Ryusei’s management finally responded an hour ago.”

“What did they say?” You asked, taking a sip of your coffee after.

“Well, they are with us on saying the picture was fake,” Reo started. “Which is good, but…”

“But?” You tilted your head to the side.

“But, they also want to say it’s for your concept of this album,” Reo finished.

“What?” You questioned.

“Anri already told them how terrible of an idea that is so hopefully that won’t happen. But, it’s obvious Ryusei is trying to work his way around things. You must not let him, do you understand?” Reo told you.

You nodded your head slowly. “I understand.”

“Good, now get up.”

…

After finishing the long meeting with your PR team, you were finally able to go back home. You sat at the pool with a drink in your hand, sunglasses on with your eyes closed when you heard footsteps approach you.

“Yo! Y/n!”

You opened your eyes and turned your head to see your best dancer for your career so far, Hyoma Chigiri. “Chigiri! What’s up?” You replied, taking a sip of your drink.

“Do you wanna go out tonight?” Chigiri asked you. “There’s this new club I checked out last week and it was killer. You should come with me tonight.”

“Will Ryusei be there? I’m not really allowed to hang around him anymore.” You said, stirring the straw around in your drink.

“Nope,” Chigiri shook his head. “But who knows! Maybe you’ll meet someone better.” He smiled.

“True,” You acknowledged with a nod. “Sure, why not?” You eventually answered.

“Awesome, I’ll be here at 8 to pick you up then,” He said, patting your bare shoulder before walking away.

You hummed shortly in response, waving your hand and taking a sip of your drink. Hopefully, this would be nice for you. If not, it at least couldn’t hurt to go out with your friend. You finished your drink in another sip and set it down beside you, putting your arms behind your head as support and closing your eyes again.

…

Chigiri showed up a little late, which you didn’t mind since you weren’t even ready in the first place. You put your shoes on and heard your phone buzz, making you look at it to see Chigiri’s message that he was there. You put your phone in your pocket and left your house, immediately spotting the car near the front gate and you hurried towards it, the cool air freezing through the light materialized shirt you were wearing.

You opened the door and climbed inside the car, seeing Chigiri and he smiled at you.

“Hey! Looking good,” He said to you.

“You too,” You responded, putting the seatbelt on. “So, where’s this place at?”

“Only where the best clubs are,” Chigiri answered, pulling out of your driveway and back onto the road.

“Awesome,” You said, leaning your head against the headrest.

By the time you two arrived, it was half past nine, and the club had just opened at nine. When you stepped out of the car, your eyes squinted at the bright neon lights saying the name of the club that you were unable to read.

“Come on,” Chigiri grabbed your arm and pulled you inside with him.

You were immediately met with the loud booming music and neon lights, making you look around in awe at the place. “This place looks wicked,” You said.

“It is,” Chigiri answered, pulling you along more to get drinks.

While waiting for the drinks, you felt eyes on you. You turned your head to see a man staring at you. He quickly looked away once you noticed his gaze on you, and you watched as one of his friends started talking to him. You looked away when the drinks arrived, and Chigiri took his and went off somewhere, leaving you alone at the bar. You took a sip of the drink and made a sour face.

“Not your taste?”

You turned your head at the voice, seeing the male who was staring at you now standing in front of you. “Not really,” You shook your head. “I like harsher drinks.” You answered.

“Hey! Rufio!” The man called for the bartender, who hurried over to you two. “Get this lovely man here a new drink. Let’s say, a double jack and coke?” He said, glancing over at you for confirmation.

“Yeah, that works,” You nodded your head.

The bartender quickly made the new drink and handed it to you. You took a sip and looked at the male in front of you. “You can sit, if you want,” You offered, gesturing to the chair.

“I was actually going to ask if you wanted to dance,” He said.

“Ah,” You let out. ‘Well, I usually like a drink or two before dancing.”

“But-”

“Hey!” A voice echoed throughout the club.

The man looked away from you and at the younger male approaching the two of you at a fast-paced walk, and he looked terrified.

“What the fuck did I say about you coming back here, huh?!” The younger male exclaimed when he finally reached you two, smacking him in the face.

“I-I’m sorry! I th-thought-”

“Thought what? Get the fuck out!” The male kicked the older man a few times, watching him scurry away.

You stared at the new male in front of you with shock on your face, not knowing entirely what the hell just happened. When he looked at you, his face dropped, making you look at him confused.

“Uhm, do I know you?” You asked politely.

“No,” He shook his head. “But, I know you.” He answered. “You-You’re L/n, Y/n.”

Ah. A fan, great. “Don’t tell anyone, please,” You said quietly, holding your finger up to your lips. “I really just wanted a night out with my friend.”

“I won’t say anything,” He quickly shook his head. “I’m Rin,” He held his hand out to you.

“Nice to meet you, Rin,” You shook his hand.

“Do you maybe wanna dance?” He asked.

Looking at your drink, you took another big sip and set it down, nodding your head and standing up. “Sure.”

Rin grabbed your hand and pulled you with him to the main dancefloor. His hand let go once you both were in the middle of everyone, starting to dance to the electronic music blasting throughout the club. You generally weren’t one for electronic music but you didn’t mind it at the current moment. You felt hands wrap around your waist from behind and a body press against you, turning your head to see Rin towering over you while behind you. His gaze was stuck on you as he moved against you to the rhythm of the music.

He leaned down to your ear and quietly whispered. “Is that your friend over there?”

You followed his eyes to where Chigiri was talking to someone else and started walking towards the exit, and you nodded. “Yeah,” You said.

“Looks like he’s ditching you,” Rin spoke quietly. “Is he your ride?”

You nodded again.

“Hm,” Rin hummed, his hands gripping your sides tightly. “How about you let me take you home?”

You looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and shock. “What?”

“You have no way home now, right?” Rin asked. “You can’t get an Uber cause of your status, and I’m the only one who knows a famous idol is in my club right now. So, I say you have no other choice.”

You stopped dancing by now, his hands keeping you in place as you thought. He was right in all sorts of ways. You couldn’t afford to let anyone else know that you were here, and who knows what would happen if someone took a picture of you out clubbing just after the issue with Ryusei? You were stuck. “Okay,” You nodded.

“Come on,” Rin said as soon as you spoke, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the club through the back entrance where his car was.

You followed him out to the back, mentally praying that you wouldn’t die on this ride back to your house as he opened the passenger side door for you. You hesitated for a split second before getting in the car, letting Rin close it behind you. He got in a few seconds after and started the car.

“So, what way to your house?”

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tag list: [ @d4y-dr3am3r ; @paleenthusiastfox ; @kaitfae ; @will-o-the-wisp ; @pleniluneg4ze ]

[81pastrys]

Grid Flirt

Part 5 / 13

Summary— After her maiden win and a bit of scolding, she doesn’t want to sulk and goes to her favorited drivers to let loose.

Warnings— Horner being a dick ; drinking feelings away

A/N— the next one is multiple POVs

Series List

“He can’t cut your contract now, not after what he did.” Max said. “Just breathe for now, we can handle that later.”

We head into the cool down room again. Lando looks severely concerned. We watch a few replays and it replays my radio. I look directly into a camera. I make an oops face.

“Wait he said that?” Lando asked, looking at managers behind cameras. “Is that aloud?”

“Uhh FÍA is still pending on that.” One of them says.

They look at me and I shrug. “What, I’m not slowing down when I’m about to get my first win.”

They both agree and then we go and do the podium. My brain blanks as we do the champagne pop. I’m as happy as ever. My dad is cheering me on harder than anyone, my teammate is happy for once to just be on the podium, and I may have outed a contract I didn’t want.

After the podium we go to the paddock and Horner walks in pissed beyond belief. “You fucked my team Díaz!” He yelled pointing a finger in my face. “As soon as you get a new contract, take it. I’m not signing you another fucking year.” He yelled.

“I already planned on it.” I say calm.

“I bet you did you cheeky brat.”

“Oh shit, my bad was I supposed to drive a fucked car with failed parts and be okay with it?” I yell. “My first win and you’re fucking mad I won it with old parts!” I laugh while yelling. “You should be fucking impressed Horner!”

Max is impressed by my yelling match. We continue screaming at each other while the entire thing is filmed. My dad intervened and I took my final dig.

“Putting your drivers at high risk for failure and threatening the mechanics. Pathetic excuse for a team principle you fucking snob.” I finish as my dad pulls me away. “I want a new contract now, this is bullshit and I’m not driving for his team again.” I say.

“I know mi flor.” My dad said calm. “We’ll get you another contract, but you need to calm down before no one signs you for your attitude.”

He’s right. No one wants a yelling match with their driver. The summer break just started so I have many options. Mercedes, Alpine, Haas. They’ve offered and I put them on hold. McLaren asked for a visit, although I strongly disagree with them getting rid of Lando or Oscar. I need to talk with my manager.

Once we all end up back to the hotel, I get to talk with my manager. “Okay, McLaren is still willing to work with you, so is Mercedes.” She said. “Alpine and Haas have revoked their interests.”

“Okay, I can work with that.” I say. “What are the comparisons?” I ask. She pulls out sheets of the comparisons and McLaren has better statistics and future predictions. “Who would I be replacing in McLaren?” I ask hesitant.

“Oscar Piastri.” She said. “Norris is their focus, however if you keep performing the way you are, it could be you anytime soon.”

“Tell McLaren I want to meet, what about Mercedes are their trends going up by any chance?”

She explains that they could but it’s not looking good for the long run. I’m choosing McLaren. She schedules the meeting and I head back to my hotel room.

I lay on my bed. I can’t handle just sulking. I get up and find a good party dress. I put on makeup that is perfect, do my hair the way I love. Then finish my look with my dress and heels. I grab my going out purse and walk out my room.

I knock on Max’s door and he answers, looking like he just woke up. “Woah- where are you going?”

“Party, I need to celebrate!” I say faking a smile.

“I need about 20 minutes and a shot before we go out doll.” He said. “Who else is coming?”

“Maybe Norris, Maybe Leclerc.” I say. “You were the first I asked.” I wink.

“Okay, let me get ready then.” He winked back. I go to Charles room and knock.

“Why hello there.” He said smiling. He looked ready to go out.

“First win, and I want to celebrate properly.” I say. “Want to join?”

“Oui, oui.” He said looking me up and down. “Let me grab a few things hm?”

He closes the door and I go to Lando’s door, making sure I look the best for him. He opens the door and his eyes widen and he smiles. “What’s this love?” He asked.

“Well a girls got to celebrate her maiden win.” I wink. “Go get ready.”

“Who else is coming love?” He asked.

“Oh you know, Max, Charles.” I say smiling. “You..”

“Ahh fight for the Díaz?” He joked. “Not sure it’s a fair fight.”

“Just go get ready and meet me in the lobby.” I laugh.

He closes the door and I text the other two the same thing. I go to the lobby and the three boys file in. Lando is the only one who knows what’s going on, the other two will figure it out soon. “There’s my boys.” I smile walking up to them.

“Where are we going?” Leclerc asked.

“She wants to celebrate, where’s the best place to do that?” Verstappen added.

“Well why don’t we start walking?” Lando said.

We start walking down the street and find a good club to get into. Lando in front of me and the other two behind. They let me in, not even carding me. We all got drinks off the bat. Taking a few shots first to start it off.

“Who knew Diaz was a party animal?” Max said. I laugh and they all smile.

“A lot on my mind.” I say taking a sip of my drink.

“It’s all about to go away.” Lando said leaning on the counter. “Let’s wait for those to kick in hm?”

“Yeah don’t get too drunk yet Chérie.” Charles said.

“Chérie?” I ask. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing much.” He said.

“Let’s go dance!” I say a bit tipsy already.

I lead the way and we all dance for a little, the alcohol kicking in hardcore. I took 2 shots and finished my vodka cranberry quite quickly. Charles noticed first I was drunk and informed the other two. I grab Lando’s wrist and lead him to the bar.

“Shots?” I ask.

“I think you’ve had to many love.” He laughed.

“So?” I laugh. “I’m celebrating!”

Will she race for RedBull again?

[rottenpumpkin13]

Hi! ☺️ I hope your week has started off kindly and continued to be such!

For my ask this time, I am high-key curious: Reasons why Dadzard Lazard has gotten protective over/gone to bat for his SOLDIERs?

Tyvm for your time~ ❤️

 

— 🪷

Yes, because while Lazard is actively working to dismantle Shinra from the inside and despises the company with every fiber of his well-tailored being, he will still throw hands over how unfairly they treat his SOLDIERs. His jurisdiction is his domain, and if the board wants to mess with his men, they're going to have to go through him.

• The Hair Incident: During a board meeting, Heidegger had the gall to openly criticize Sephiroth's hair, muttering something about "unprofessional length" and "military standards." Without missing a beat, Lazard responded: "I apologize, I wasn't aware the Shinra Army had a division dedicated to hair care expertise. Tell me, Heidegger, do you file your battle strategies under 'bangs' or 'baldness?'"

• The Genesis Fan Club Incident: When the company tried crediting one of Genesis' mission successes to Sephiroth to further inflate his legend while erasing everyone else's contributions. Lazard took immediate action. He attached the full mission report, complete with glowing commentary about Genesis' performance, and emailed it directly to the Red Leather fan club. Within an hour, Genesis was trending on multiple Midgar forums, and Lazard was sipping his tea while executives scrambled to clean up the PR mess.

• The "Wait, You Can Rest?" Incident: One of Lazard's first interactions with Sephiroth as the new director involved him pointing out the boy's less-than-perfect posture during a meeting. Sephiroth muttered something about being exhausted. Lazard, completely unfazed, suggested he take a break and return later. Sephiroth just stared at him.

Sephiroth: …Rest? In the middle of the day? Lazard: Yes, that is typically how exhaustion is managed. Sephiroth: Hojo won't let me go back to my quarters in the labs until the end of the day. Lazard: You can sleep on the couch in my office. Sephiroth: …..?……?…….??

*This was, in fact, the first nap Sephiroth had ever taken that wasn't in a lab or a helicopter between missions.

The SOLDIER Pay Protest: When Shinra attempted to slash mission earnings, citing "budget concerns." Lazard knew this was going to hit SOLDIERs hard, especially men like Angeal, who sent money home to their families. So he took immediate and drastic action: He organized a full blown lock-in on the 49th floor. No one left. No one entered. HR tried emailing him, but he was suddenly out of office. Security was called, but SOLDIERs were blocking every entrance. By the time the executives realized they couldn't access SOLDIER until Lazard got his way, the pay cuts were off the table, and everyone had their bonuses reinstated.

• The "If Sephiroth Is on the 49th Floor, Hojo Can Die" Policy: Lazard might not have direct authority over what happens to Sephiroth in the labs, but if Sephiroth sets one foot on the 49th floor, he is under Lazard's jurisdiction. And Lazard makes damn sure Hojo knows that.

*Sephiroth is sitting in the SOLDIER lounge when Hojo shows up*

Hojo: Ah, there you are. I summoned you for an examination an hour ago. Let's leave. Immediately.

*Lazard appears with a shotgun*

Lazard: Let's conduct an experiment to see how fast you can run when I start shooting.

Hojo: !?

Sephiroth: <3