#Manage Your Team Remotely

[dravidious]

You're more amazing than catchphrases

90% of all Yugioh card effects are either "move a card from one zone to another" or "negate an effect" so I made a bunch of combat keywords so that monsters can actually be interesting on the field.

[wtfaniii]

oneshot in-ho x reader whos a player not bc of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun? in-ho falls in love w her and protects her during the games (he knew abt her as he had stalked gi hun and his team duh)

thank u🙏🏻

Just when I read this I had just uploaded a one-shot more or less with that theme of the researcher girl.

I love it, thanks for reading🤎

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Paparazzi

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warnings: Just some harassment from this sexy man, violence and inappropriate language. Also, I made a modification to one of the games so that the reader could be with them

Note: Your wishes are my command! Orders will remain open and I will try to respond as soon as possible.

Her job was supposed to be just to do some research, collect names, dates and addresses, but fate had other things in store for she.

—Form lines to advance! It will be harder for the puppet to detect you that way —Gi-hun shouted to the players who were still alive after that massacre.

The girl was shaking uncontrollably. Unfortunately, she hadn't managed to get behind someone and now the doll was in her sights. Her hands didn't stop moving and clearly noticed how one of the weapons from heaven was pointing at her.

—Please... —She whispered shakily, yeah... maybe she was a coward but it's only because survival is not his specialty.

"Player 455" heard one of the guards through his communicator, he aimed directly at the head of the trembling girl but before pulling the trigger he heard the voice of his leader "Don't shoot, let her continue" and without protest he obeyed him order.

In a gilded room, with a huge screen in front of a single sofa and a small table next to it, rested the man who led and maintained order in these games.

Drinking a little more whiskey, In-ho kept his eyes on the screen and with the remote control he focused on player 455, the poor girl was terrified, it was not the first impression he expected from her after having read her entire file.

He had read that she was a great detective, top of her class, she was cunning, intelligent, and had a couple of master's degrees completed, but seeing her afraid of dying almost made him laugh.

It was amazing how being face to face with death changed people.

—Nobody shoot her —he added over the radio without taking his eyes off the screen.

He could see the girl's confusion at seeing thatwas still alive despite moving very slightly.

In-ho knew everything about her, he knew what she was weak on, her strengths, weaknesses, her way of operating, he even knew about that beloved cat she had in his childhood and died of old age.

He had taken the time and dedication to investigate even the smallest details about her, it was the least he could do after almost discovering his identity.

The detective was so close to discovering the entire empire of these games that he had to be her brought together with Gi-hun by force so as not to let her finish the task.

He twisted his lips as the whiskey vanished and the first game, green light, red light, was over.

He didn't want her dead, or at least not for now, until he knew a little more about her, one could almost say that she had the potential to be part of this if she weren't so correct.

He put on his mask and went to the control center.

[...]

Just as she thought, some players approached Gi-hun for advice for the next game, there were only those who believed in his words because some others called him a 'liar'.

Among them was player 001, whose name was claimed to be Young-il. He was no fool, he wouldn't say his real name without being sure how much information she had about all of this.

As night fell in the bedroom everyone was sleeping peacefully, except for the girl who was sitting in the middle of her bed playing with his pillowcase, folding it over and over again and then unfolding it and repeating the same act.

—Are you having trouble sleeping? –001 asked, approaching her, who shifted a little and made room on the bed for him to sit next to her.

—My head works better at night... —She murmured, looking at him and smiling friendly.

He looked down at her hands and how the moved on the pillowcase, her were precise and firm. —You know how to tie good knots.

She had many talents and In-ho knew them all.

Or well, almost all of them.

Her ability to tie excellent knots was developed by her father, who was captain of a fishing boat that she also sailed on from time to time.

They locked gazes again in silence. In-ho considered that long-distance photos were nothing compared to being face to face with her. For two years he had been investigating her, he had sent several guards to follow her closely for one reason only. At first considered her a threat. Her intelligence and curiosity could have unmasked him, but then he started following her out of routine.

Afterwards he just kept his gaze on her out of habit and finally he had her face to face.

—What's wrong? —She asked with a frown as noticed the intense gaze on his person.

—Nothing, you should rest, we must have energy for tomorrow's games.

When he was about to stand up and go to his respective bed but she stopped him by holding his hand. The girl, seeing his inappropriate act and with more confidence than she should have, quickly let him go. —Can we keep talking? Honestly... I'm too distressed to sleep right now.

—Of course...

The two continued to talk about trivial matters for a couple more hours, they tried to keep it low so as not to wake up the other players but every now and then they received an annoying 'shhh' from someone nearby who longed to be able to sleep peacefully.

Until she finally fell asleep with head resting on In-ho's shoulder, he didn't move, instead, he let her sleep and settled down so they could both rest better.

The next day, during the next game, they formed teams of six people.

Once they were all together, along with a pregnant woman named Jun-hee with the number 222, they sat on the floor as ordered and shared the games.

The activity was to play a series of games and each time they won they could advance, all this with their feet tied together.

It would be simple, each one was good at something and that made it easier for them to continue, they were the last players to participate which was good for the girl, so she wouldn't get nervous under the gaze of the other participants and as if heaven conspired in his favor one of the games was about making a rhombus with a rope.

—I did it! —She shouted euphorically showing the perfect rhombus in her hands made with rope and on the first try, the guard made a circle and the voice said "pass"

The others celebrated with her as they advanced, until now they achieved the games at the first opportunity and had plenty of time but when they reached the part where they had to spin a top on the ground Young-il lost his sanity after so many failed attempts.

As she bent down to pick up the top once more and wrap it in the string 001 began to curse and beat himself.

—What the hell is happening to me? I can't do anything right! I'm useless —She looked at him startled every time he hit himself, until she interrupted him by slapping on the left cheek, managing to silence him and making his head turn just a little.

In-ho's fake drama to scare them was going great until this sudden blow happened, he didn't expect it but there he was, looking at her with surprise and astonishment.

—You have to calm down! —She shouted, handing him the already finished top. —Try it again and if we die I swear I'll kill you.

He nodded and took the toy, she used those words to lighten the mood and try to give him confidence (which of course she did) but eyes don't lie and her gaze begged him to do it, she didn't want to die.

Miraculously he managed to spin the top and they moved on to the last game which Gi-hun was about to lose if it hadn't been for In-ho, although the last move was not correct he shouted "he did it" this being a small order camouflaged for the guard to give the affirmative signal.

They didn't know it but at that moment they would have died.

She was ignorant of this, she didn't know that if it weren't for In-ho she would already be dead since "green light, red light"

Unwittingly, In-ho saved her at every opportunity, protecting her life without realizing that perhaps following her had already become more than just a routine.

Little by little she got under him skin, first it was in his mind and now...

[tuiccim]

We're Gonna Burn

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3K

Warnings: Smut, Sex Pollen, Non/DubCon (because sex pollen), enemies to lovers.

Summary: When an exposure to a strange powder makes you feel as if you're burning to death, your only relief is in the person you hate the most.

A/N: Special thanks to my beta reader @whisperlullaby

We're Gonna Burn Masterlist

“What the hell was that, Barnes?” You practically yell as you push open the front door of the safe house you’d been directed to. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen anything like it. God, the smell!” He shakes his head.

“It’s burned into my nostrils. All I can smell is that sweet flower smell. You’ve never seen that pink powder?” You throw your things to the floor, looking around the small, remote house. 

“No, I’d tell you if I did, damnit! Why do you keep asking?” Bucky growls. 

“You’re not the most forthcoming person! Shit, I think you’ve spoken more in the last two minutes than in the three months I’ve known you! Jesus, fuck, I’ve gotta get rid of this smell. I’m so fucking hot,” your voice gets smaller as you speak. You can’t think straight but head towards the bathroom, unzipping your tac suit and pulling it from your arms as you go. You slam the door and lock it. You turn the cold water on full blast and nearly fall over in your haste to get your suit off. The frigid spray helps for a few moments and you revel in it, but soon another type of heat begins to take over. Your clit throbs and when you place your hand between your legs, your wetness coats your fingers. The shower stops bringing relief and instead, the water coursing down your body seems to only make you hornier. You give in to the need that takes hold and circle your clit. It feels amazing and it takes only a couple of minutes for your orgasm to break over you. You  bite your lip to hold in the moans, not wanting the asshat on the other side of the door to hear you. 

Your body has a moment of relief but then the heat builds again, even quicker this time. You dip your fingers inside of you in a desperate attempt to stop it. The second orgasm you managed to pull did little to help your body and your fingers keep working furiously to bring another in hope of relief. Your moans are spilling from your lips without a care now. You just need to get this to stop. You’re disturbed when the door rattles and a fist bangs loudly. 

“Open the door! I need to get in there,” Bucky bellows. 

You wanted to scream at him to go away but you could barely form words. You hated the stupid supersoldier from the moment you met him. He questioned your every turn. Whether it was about your skill, experience, or motives. He never lets you get through a single conversation without making you feel like a lesser part of the team. 

“Goddamnit, let me in!” He yells more loudly. 

Nothing your hand was doing was helping any longer. You couldn’t think straight and, before you can make a move or form a thought, the door splinters open from a kick. A very naked Bucky comes through the door and your eyes widen as you see his cock standing at attention. He steps into the spray of the cold shower and growls. His hand works his cock furiously while his other rests on the tiles. His head falls forward as he lets the cold water fall down his back. You stand behind him, your hand still between your legs. 

“Fuck, what’s happening to us?” you whimper as you lean your feverish forehead onto his back. The cool water does nothing to help but where your skin touches his tingles with relief. Abandoning all pride, you press your entire body to his and the fever seems to cool wherever you touch but your clit throbs even harder. Your cunt weeps, begging for attention.You rub yourself against him, your nipples pebbling at the contact with his back. 

With a growl, Bucky turns around and you quickly back up to press your back against the wall of the shower. He stares at you, breathing hard. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble in your haze, “I don’t know what’s happening. I’m so hot and-” 

You gasp as Bucky bends down, grabs your legs, and drags you up the tiles. You squeal and reach for any handhold as he puts your legs over his shoulders and attacks your clit with his tongue. 

“Oh, fuck!” You scream as one hand lands on the ceiling to help you balance and the other buries in his hair. His tongue swirls over your clit expertly. His hands squeeze your ass as he gorges himself on you. It doesn’t take long for you to buck your hips as you come all over his face. As he sets you down, you squeeze your thighs together but your body simply screams that it wants more. You stare at each other, breathing heavily. “It’s not working. Nothing helps,” you whimper, tears forming. It’s obvious by watching him that this is affecting him almost as much as you. His supersoldier serum must be helping him but he was burning just the same. 

Bucky sighs as he steps closer to you. He presses his forehead to yours with his eyes closed and whispers, “I think there’s only one thing that’s going to help.”

You put your arms around his neck, “Just do it!” You wrap a leg around his to encourage him and he lifts you up. He presses your back into the wall as he lines himself up with your entrance. He paused there for a second as if he was fighting himself. “Please, Barnes, please! I need it!” You can’t believe you’re begging the man you hate to fuck you but your body was demanding it and if he didn’t you were sure you would burn to death. If you had been thinking straight, you would probably prefer to burn but, at this moment, you wanted nothing more than to be filled. 

“Goddamnit,” he whispers as he presses in. Your body bows with pleasure. 

“Yes! Yes!” Your voice reverberates off the tile walls as you shout with relief. He begins to pump and your body trembles with each motion of his cock. He grabs your ass as he pounds into you and you know he’s as lost in the meeting of your bodies as you are. Your cunt flutters around him, pulling him in, begging for him to come inside of you. Your rational mind has gone completely silent and you are filled with only carnal lust. Every motion of his hips takes you higher and it’s all you want. “Don’t stop,” you grip his shoulders harder. 

“Fuck,” Bucky grunts. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to and, truth was, this was the best thing he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh, God, oh, God, I’m- yes!” You release a long, high-pitched moan as you come. Your pussy grips his cock as his hips stutter. He comes with a long moan that makes you clench around him more firmly. You stay there for a few moments, catching your breath, and blessedly your body finally starts to cool. You release your legs from around his waist and he gently sets you down. You can’t look at him and instead maneuver yourself back under the cold spray. You rinse off quickly and step out of the shower. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you exit the bathroom to find your pack and some clothes. While you rifle through your pack, you feel your temperature creeping up again and then you double over from the intense wave that rolls over you. “No, no, not again,” you whisper to yourself. You look over to the broken bathroom door where Bucky still is and consider your options. Sex had given you the relief you needed but it was short lived. Your mind runs amuck with questions. What the hell was that powder? What was it doing to you? How long would this last? How many times would it take to stop this heat from trying to burn you alive? Was sex really the only relief you would find? Another pang hit and knocked the breath from your body. You were gasping in pain when an arm picked you up around your middle. 

He was still wet from the shower and hadn’t bothered to dry off. The pains had hit him and he went to the only place he knew he could find relief. He carried you to the small bed in the house and set you down on your hands and knees. He grips your hips tightly and pauses for a moment as another rush of heat spreads over him, “I need-”

“Just do it,” your words come out in a rush, pressing back into him. 

He enters you without preamble. Pulling you back to meet each motion of his hips, his moans give evidence of the pleasure and relief that the connection brings. You reach under you to play with your clit, trying to bring your orgasm on more quickly. Each of Bucky’s swift thrusts has you crying out with pleasure and he moves your hand away to bring you to orgasm himself. He wanted to feel you clench around him as you had before. 

“Oh, fuck, just like that,” you whine, “Just like that, don’t- don’t stop, oh, fuck.”

Bucky moans as he feels your cunt flutter around his cock with your orgasm. The sounds you release are a hit straight to his cock and he comes hard, thrusting with each spurt into you. Breathing heavily, you both collapse on the bed. You lay on your side facing away from him while taking stock of your body. The relief you felt with your orgasm was short lived as heat began to build again after only a few minutes. 

You feel like crying as your body radiates waves of heat. You turn over to face Bucky. He is lying on his back, his metal arm slung over his eyes, and his right hand fisting his hard cock. You make your decision quickly. Pulling his hand away, you straddle him and guide his cock inside of you. You move your hips slowly, hoping that perhaps if you stretched out the sex, it would keep the pain at bay longer. His hands grip your thighs as you rock slowly, his head is thrown back with eyes tightly closed. You looked at him for a moment and still couldn't believe that of all the teammates this could happen with, it had to be this asshole. When you first met him, you thought he was hot as fuck but as his personality (or lack there of) reared it’s ugly head you found him less and less attractive. Your anger at the situation grew as you rode him and you found yourself leaning forward, chasing your orgasm to just get this over with. 

“Oh, fuck,” Bucky bucks up into you, causing you to cry out. He repeats the motion over and over again until your body spasms around him. He comes with a grunt as he watches your face contort with pleasure. You collapse on his chest without looking at him. You wondered if keeping your bodies connected would keep the heat from returning. 

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly. 

You sigh weakly as you felt the now familiar warmth beginning to spread, “I was hoping…” You let out a frustrated grunt, “I was hoping if we stayed touching it would be enough. But it’s starting again.”

“Yeah, me, too,” Bucky acknowledges his own heat building. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t know that,” you grouse.

“I think… I think this might be a pheromone or something Hydra created to force procreation. I heard of the experiments but they abandoned it when it didn’t produce the results they wanted.”

“Which was?” You ask as your hips make slow circles. You can feel his cock quickly hardening inside of you. 

“Naturally born supersoldiers,” Bucky strains out the words. 

“So, we’re gonna have sex until we die or what?”

“Usually wore off in a few hours but until then…” he trails off as he gots lost in the sensations. 

“Fuck,” you groan, partially out of frustration, partially from the pleasure his thick cock was producing. 

“Basically,” Bucky says and you surprise yourself by laughing at the droll comment. You are even more surprised a second later when Bucky rolls you under him. He buries his face in your neck as he pulls your leg up higher and thrusts. You throw your head back as the pleasure begins to build again. 

“Harder,” you whimper. 

Bucky complies immediately and you whimper with each stroke. Grabbing onto him, you get lost in the feeling of his cock pounding into you sharply. You were glad that he at least was decent at this. Or was it that whatever the damn contaminant was made everything feel amazing? You were getting close with the steady way he fucked you and words started to pour out of your mouth. You were usually quite vocal in bed but hadn’t wanted to give Bucky the satisfaction. Now, you couldn’t stop yourself. 

“Oh, god, it’s so good. Don’t stop, right there. It’s so fucking good. Oh, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna- fuck!” You let out a loud moan as you come hard and Bucky’s hips work even faster as he nears his own end. When he comes on a broken cry, your body revels in the feeling of him emptying himself in you.

The rational side of your brain sounded far away but was still screaming at the situation. In a moment of it managing to take hold, you push Bucky off of you and roll away from him. Breathing heavily, you pray that this is over. Surely, this was enough to satisfy anything. You will yourself to stay cool, to not allow the heat to return, to hold onto any shred of sanity you can find, but despite it all, the heat built again. You felt like screaming but you knew that nothing you did would help. You turn back to Bucky and say frustratedly, “Ready for another round?” You can’t meet his eyes but you knew neither of you could handle the pain and heat. You needed each other. 

Bucky turns to you, “Hey.” He waits, wanting you to look him in the eyes but you just stare at his chest. “Hey.”

“What?” You say waspishly, still refusing to meet his gaze.

“Never mind,” he says as he grabs you and pulls your back against his chest. His cock nudges you from behind and you maneuver your hips to allow him entry. His thrusts are quick and sharp but his fingers on your clit are pure magic. He’s learned your body quickly but instead of leading you straight to orgasm this time, he works you to the precipice and then backs off repeatedly. You understood what he was trying to do. He was trying to prolong the sex in hopes of not having to come inside you any more than he already had but it was as if your body only got angrier with each denial. 

“It’s not working! Just let me come!” You finally cry out, your frustration having reached its breaking point.

“Say it,” Bucky growls.

You wrack your muddled brain trying to grasp what he wants and latch on to the only word you can find, “Please!”

“No, say my name.”

You would normally reel angrily at a command from him but the effects this powder had on you makes you compliant from need. You stutter as your tongue tries to cooperate, “B- Barnes.”

“No,” he says darkly, “Say it.”

“Bucky,” you grind the word out through your teeth. You had never once called him that. It had always been some variant of his last name. You felt even more vulnerable now.

Bucky doesn’t utter a word but he moves his hips faster and his fingers do their job. When you finally come, your whole body spasms and you scream. The sound was foreign to your ears but the orgasm just kept going. You fluttered around Bucky’s cock, milking him of cum. You stay in that position for the next two rounds of sex. Then you got on top again to give Bucky a break but this time you faced away from him. You couldn’t look at him. When you had rode him to two orgasms and yourself to utter exhaustion, he turned you on your stomach to fuck you again. You lost count of the number of times you had sex. More orgasms than you’d ever had in your life were accomplished and you didn’t have any clue how many times he came. You fucked until you both passed out. 

Waking up fourteen hours later, you felt as if you had the worst hangover you’d ever experienced. You glance at the spot Bucky had been in but he was gone. On the table by the bed was a couple of bottles of water, a protein bar, and a bottle of pain reliever. You raised your eyebrow at the items but just shrugged as you tore into all of them. You notice your pack is by the bed and you get up to put clothes on. The first thing you notice is the soreness between your legs but really your whole body hurts. You listen for a moment but don’t hear anything in the house. Peeking out the door, you see the empty living room and slip into the bathroom. You shower quickly, trying not to remember what happened in the small space just yesterday. 

You jump when a knock sounds while you are dressing. You call out, “Yes?”

“Exfil will be here in five minutes,” Bucky says through the broken door. 

“I’ll be right out,” you say. Your stomach is in knots. You can’t imagine facing him after everything. Would he act like nothing happened or gloat like the asshole he is? You wonder if you will ever be able to look him in the face again. You look at yourself, surprised that you still look the same as you did yesterday because you know you’ll never be the same again. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. Now, you had a jet to catch.

Part 2

Updates and taglist: Due to the unreliable nature of tags, I no longer keep a taglist. Updates for series will be made on Sundays Central Time Zone. Please follow my sideblog @tuiccimfanfiction and turn on notifications for updates. All series and new stories will be reblogged to it. You will only receive notifications when a new part or story is out! Nothing else will be blogged to the page. I can’t thank you enough for your support!

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

5 Times You Are Not Dating Bucky Barnes (and the one time you are) | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 2.6k words |

You're sick of saying it, Bucky is not your boyfriend, you are not dating you're just friends. Until...

Warnings: 18+ for some canon typical violence and for Sam and Joaquin being pains in the arse (affectionate). Friends to lovers vibes, idiots in love, dating but not dating.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics & @saradika-graphics

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

1

Bucky Barnes is not your boyfriend.

At least once a day these words come out of your mouth in some form and it's becoming so frequent now that you're considering just recording yourself and playing it back on your phone.

Colleagues, partners in the field, friends.

Not a couple.

Not dating.

"Did you hear that, Wilson? She said —"

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

Sam rolled his eyes at Bucky, sighing dramatically in a way that only Sam is really allowed to get away with. Bucky hadn't taken his eyes from your laptop screen or the secure file you were scrolling through.

"Look awful close though."

You looked up this time, the top of your head brushing Bucky's cheek, his breath was warm against your own and the contrast between his exhale and the cold glass of the table gave you goosebumps.

"We're reviewing the data Joaquin sent us, what do you want us to do?" You snapped, scrolling to the next page of mind numbingly boring KPIs and MIs. Just your luck to get the management files and nothing juicy.

"Perhaps you could use the projector?" Sam clicked a button on the table and the details on your screen lit up the plain, white wall of the conference room.

Embarrassed heat flared up your spine and you shivered.

"Not very secure though, is it, Captain?" Bucky picked up the remote and switched the projector off, his eyes on the laptop screen.

The plastic of your chair squeaked as he tightened his hold on it, and the door slammed shut behind Sam.

2

You followed your nose from the cool darkness of the operations room to the open living area. Tedious as it was to be stationed in the middle of nowhere for recon, you couldn't fault the accommodation, it was almost like being on holiday, apart from the gruelling shifts staring at monitors every day.

Somewhere further along the corridor the sound of good-natured arguing grew louder, Bucky's voice rising above the others and warning them not to disturb you. There was a brief pause before you heard Sam and Joaquin start laughing and Bucky's heavy sigh.

"Morning," you gave a small sleepy smile to the assembled team. Joaquin smiled back, raising his coffee cup in greeting. Sam grinned and you knew instantly that there was something going on. "What now?" You sighed, sending both men in to fits of laughter.

Bucky handed you a cup of tea and bowl of yogurt and granola, a handful of blueberries and raspberries on top.

"Thanks, I'm starving." You bumped his hip as you wandered past to join your teammates at the kitchen island and earned yourself a rare smile.

"What've you got there?" Sam asked, peering into your bowl.

"Usual," you mumbled, sipping your tea. Perfect.

"Uh huh, the usual." He looked up at Bucky, whose face was slowly turning the same colour as the raspberries.

"Can I have some yoghurt, Bucky?" Joaquin asked, innocently.

"Nope." Bucky said, watching you take the first bite and allowing the corner of his mouth to turn up in a smile when yours did.

"Oh, did we run out?"

"Nope."

Bucky put the almost full pot back into the fridge, fixed his coffee and sat down too, shuffling his stool a little closer to you. His hair was still a little damp and you could smell the familiar scent of his shampoo, his bare arm bumping against yours as he took a sip of coffee.

Sam and Joaquin emptied out the last of their coffees into the sink and slunk away, whispering and laughing conspiratorially about "special treatment for girlfriends."

Bucky was, as usual, ignoring them and flipping through a week old newspaper and sipping his coffee. He caught you watching and gave you a mock glare, nothing like the hard stare he'd given Sam and Joaquín earlier.

Then he turned the pages slightly so you could see and you let your head rest on his shoulder, still sipping your tea.

3

"I'm sorry, okay, please stop giving me the cold shoulder." Sam followed after you as you picked your way back to the jet, trying to catch up so you could walk together.

"Absolutely not, I want to be angry for at least two more hours." You grouched, squeezing water from your tactical gear.

"C'mon, it's a little funny," Joaquin laughed, taking up space on your other side.

"Fuck off, Torres, if you had fish swimming in your tac suit you'd be mad too. "

Bucky met you at the cargo door, towel in hand and glaring at your team mates.

"Hell happened to you lot? And why are there fish in your suit?" He scanned you all quickly for serious damage, but it was just your ego that was bruised really.

"Someone, told me it was totally safe to cross this rickety fucking bridge back there," you scowled again.

It really wasn't Sam's fault, it looked perfectly safe or you wouldn't have started to cross, but it was clearly rigged to fall and that's exactly what you'd done, straight into the stagnant water below.

In their gear Sam and Joaquin had been fine. You, on the other hand, had been soaked from head to toe.

"Let's get you in something clean and dry," Bucky gently ushered you into the cool darkness of the jet, soothing your embarrassment with his own stories and wiping mud from the back of your neck as if it was an everyday occurrence.

"I don't think there's anything left in my locker after we got caught in that storm a few weeks back." Embarrassment made your skin itchy and your blood cold. You had spare underwear, maybe, at best.

"Don't worry," Bucky put his back to the door of the small bathroom while you stripped off your dirty clothes inside, "I've got something."

When you reappeared fifteen minutes later, cleaner, dryer, it was in a pair of Bucky's spare sweat pants and the black t-shirt he'd been wearing.

Joaquin raised his eyes but made the decision not to comment and incur your wrath any further.

Sam, on the other hand, chose to tease Bucky instead, their arguing bouncing around the jet while you tried to get comfy on the thin flight seats.

"Got your territory all marked then, Barnes?" He laughed, eyes darting between the two of you.

"Don't know what you're on about, Wilson." Bucky snapped back.

"She's in your clothes, couldn't find any spares? Nothing of mine of Joaquin's back there? You're getting more possessive." Sam shot you a look, "you need to tell him to fuck off."

"I'm good, Sam, thanks for your concern."

"Ahh so you are —"

"We're not dating!" You shouted in unison.

Which only made Sam and Joaquín laugh harder.

It was okay though, you were safe again now and, snuggling deeper into the body warmth of Bucky's t-shirt and definitely a lot less angry than you had been, you really felt safe too. How could you feel any other kind of way, when you could smell his body wash, when he had dried your face so carefully and helped you into your clean clothes.

He looked over at you, eyes still checking for injuries.

"You okay over there? Warm enough?" You nodded and he nodded back, smiling.

4

Joaquin woke with a jolt when the plane hit turbulence, there was a crick in his neck and a sore muscle in his back screaming for a soft bed and his favourite pillow. But no such luck, just an army evac in the dead of night.

Beside him Sam had spread out a blanket and his jacket on the floor, using his rucksack as a pillow and snoring soundly. He could always sleep anywhere, you all could, especially after the day you'd had.

Bucky had taken up a spot sat on the floor like Sam, but with his back to the thin benches, his pack holding up his head. In the gloom he could see Bucky's left arm rigidly holding his body up, elbow locked, because on the right you were leaning into him. His arm was around your shoulders and you'd curled your body into his, pressing into his side, face tucked into his neck and hand under his shirt.

The plane rattled again and Bucky blinked one eye open, his body still as he scanned around quickly before locking eyes with Joaquin.

"You two comfy?" Joaquin whispered and Bucky scowled back. He'd expected Bucky to push you away, but instead he tugged you closer.

Joaquin made a tiny heart shape with his fingers and then mimed kissing.

Bucky flicked up his middle finger and then closed his eyes.

5

"So, Playboy, got any plans tonight," Sam asked, scuffing Joaquin on the back of the head while you pulled your bag out of the gym lockers.

It'd been a long day and you couldn't wait to order a ridiculous amount of food, put your pyjamas on and forget the world existed.

"You know me, Sam. Keepin' my options open." The younger man grinned back.

"Lotta fingers in a lotta pies, have you Torres?" You snickered.

Bucky shut his locker with a slam. "Don't be crude," he grouched, but you saw the way he smiled when he rolled his eyes.

"Something like that," Joaquin shrugged.

"What about you man, hot date?" Joaquin asked,

"Nah," Sam turned away and Joaquin finished towelling his wet hair and started digging his clothes from his bag before wandering off for some privacy.

You slid your trainers back on, tucking your boots in your locker and wondering why they were both suddenly so interested in each other's dating life.

"Not even Leila," you needled, breaking the silence and poking him in the side.

"What's it got to do with you anyway? You seeing anyone tonight?"

"Nope, just me and some Chinese takeout tonight, maybe a little flirt with Netflix," Sam gave you a slightly sad look, but what did you care, it wasn't the only Friday night that would ever happen and you were exhausted.

"I was going to get noodles, do you want to come back to mine, we can split an order?" Bucky asked, fishing his keys from his gym bag and nodding his head towards the door.

"Ohh yes as long as we can get dumplings."

"Obviously we're getting dumplings."

"And maybe fried rice?"

"Rice and noodles?"

"You get one, I'll get the other, we'll split it."

"Fine."

"Shall I follow you —"

"Leave your car by the hanger, I'll drive you back in tomorrow."

"Perfect, let's grab a bottle of wine from the store on the way back."

Bucky groaned, holding the door open for you, "how many times have I said, the only acceptable drink with Chinese takeout is Tsingtao."

The door shut as Joaquin rounded the lockers again, a confused look on his face."Do they know it's Valentines Day?"

Sam laughed, "I don't think so but I can't wait to see their faces tomorrow when they figure it out."

+1

"I've got him, Bucky, you watch the trucks?" You put your sight back to your eye, shuffling your shoulders, settling lower into the ground, you breathed deeply as you prepared to take the shot.

"You'll give away your position, you're too close, fall back." Bucky's voice was surprisingly frantic in your ear.

"Quiet, please. I can do this."

"Leave her, Buck, she's got this."

"Cap's right, gotta have a little faith."

"It's too risky —"

You turned your comm off. You'd been watching this gang for weeks hoping to catch them in the act and you had the perfect chance.

Sam and Joaquin had been leading your infiltration of their den and everything had been going swimmingly — until their leader had walked out and thrown everything into chaos.

You caught the kickback from your rifle with practised ease, your aim perfect, the apparent leader of the group crumpled to the ground, bleeding from his now shattered kneecap. Nothing fatal, you wanted to see him on the stand as did the rest of the team.

You touched your ear piece again ready to gloat about your excellent hit but Bucky's panicked voice found you instead.

"Run, I'm coming but you've gotta run, go —go! Why aren't you going!"

You turned, surrounded by three armed guards, and did the only thing you could do. Fight back.

This wasn't the best time for close quarters combat, but you needed time to reach your handgun or your dagger or something.

Dodging around you gained enough time to slip a knife from your thigh holster.

"I've got it, Buck. Go to Sam."

"No you fucking haven't."

Your arm moved, swiping at your first assailant and leaving a splatter of blood behind. Still low you lurched for the second man's legs, jabbing upwards as he bent down to you. The blade pierced the top of his thigh and blood gushed out as you twisted your wrist and tugged.

"Don't kill anyone." Sam admonished.

But you were too focused to care. The third guard was huge, broad and carrying a knife to match. But it was the gun pointed at your temple that had your heart pounding.

"Put the gun down little lady, we don't want any more messes for you to clean up." The man leered forward, pressing the hot muzzle of the gun into your skin.

"Fuck off." You spat back.

He bent closer, sliding his dagger back into its holster, giving him a free hand to pinch your cheeks. "Such a dirty mouth, what will I do with you."

"She said, fuck off."

The man looked blank, turning his head to find Bucky towering over him gun pressed to his back.

"You okay?" He asked, glancing at you quickly.

"Fine."

"You're a lucky bastard today." Bucky pulled the trigger and you closed your eyes against the spray.

The man shouted, clutching at his shoulder where blood was pouring between his fingers, the wound wider at the front.

"How's that lucky, Bucky?" You chastised, brushing leaves and dirt from your tactical suit and grabbing your rifle.

"If you were hurt, I'd have shot him in the head." He answered, simply, and you felt yourself go hot all over at the thought of what he'd do for you.

Sam and Joaquin landed behind you and rushed forwards.

"We heard more shots, is everyone okay? — What the hell guys I said minimal damage." Sam groaned.

"Would've been easier if someone—" Bucky looked at you, "had left their comms on and run when I'd said."

You rolled your eyes, "I was fine, look." All three patrol guards lay bleeding on the ground.

"That guy had a gun to your head, you were not fine."

"I had him on the ropes." You smiled, but it wavered, you had been scared and your heart had been racing seeing Bucky sneak up on him. "Plus, I've got my knight in shining armour to shoot people for me." You grinned up at Bucky, blood painted on your uniforms and across your cheeks.

"Good thing too." Bucky threaded his fingers through your chest holster and tugged you forwards, pressing a deep kiss to your lips. You hummed happily and leant into him before he set you back down

"If you're done, Sam, can we go back to the jet? I've got bad guy blood all over me, yuck." You made a face and wiped your cheek with the back of your hand before strolling off with Bucky, rifles over your shoulders.

"Did they just—" Joaquin looked over at Sam.

"Yeah —"

"How long?"

"No idea."

As you rounded the corner Bucky took your hand again, tugging you closer and pressing a kiss to your head where the imprint of the gun still lingered.

"Does this finally mean I'm your boyfriend?"

"Because you shot someone for me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, sure." You smiled, resting your cheek on his shoulder.

[wibben]

Photogenic

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

Nanami does not like his picture taken.

It’s a shame, really, because he’s painfully and effortlessly photogenic. Even the begrudging shots – the ones taken mid-grimace or right as that frown of his settles in – turn out looking unfairly good.

You’d seen it firsthand. There was that one birthday dinner at Shoko’s, where she’d caught him mid-toast, glass raised and mouth sloping into a small, tolerant smile as she snapped a quick shot of the table. The photo looked like something out of a magazine ad, his cheeks warmed from the sake, his eyes a little brighter. But when she’d tried to show him, he shook his head with an unimpressed grunt.

Or the time Gojo had insisted on a group photo after a team mission. Gojo teased Kento into standing there, arms crossed and brow knitted in simmering annoyance, looking thoroughly put out. But somehow, he just looked like he was on the cover of GQ: chin tilted just right, sleeves rolled up perfectly, even his hair slightly tousled from the fight before. You might’ve whimpered a little when Kento insisted it be deleted (and maybe almost sobbed again with joy when Gojo refused).

No matter the context, Kento managed to look remarkable. And yet, he loathed each and every photo ever taken of him.

You couldn’t quite place where this aversion came from. Maybe a bad childhood haircut immortalized in an old family album, or one too many “just one more!”s from well-meaning friends. Either way, you’d mostly given up trying to capture him on camera. He existed as some sort of cryptid, like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster: either you knew him in person, or he didn’t exist at all. But that hadn’t stopped Yuji – occasional agent of chaos – from sneaking in a few shots here and there. And that’s where your favorite picture of him came from.

You remember the day it was taken vividly. 

You’d insisted on a celebratory lunch for Yuji – a reward for a particularly tough job handled with flying colors (or, in short, because he’d actually listened to Kento’s instructions). Yuji joked his way through most of the meal, poking fun at everything from Kento’s meticulous folding of his napkin to his tactical approach to his plate, eating in the order of salad, then sides, then his main course. 

It had been right after you’d done… well, you couldn’t remember exactly what, as unremarkable as it was. Maybe a bad impression of Gojo, maybe a terrible joke. But whatever it was, Kento broke, his shoulders dropping as he graced the table with a genuine, unrestrained laugh that only you seemed capable of pulling out of him. Yuji had been quick to draw, snapping the photo before either of you noticed. 

Later, Yuji sent it to you with a sly grin. “Mrs. Nanami’s gotta have the good stuff,” he’d whispered, nudging you as he tilted his phone towards you. 

You stared, speechless, your heart doing a little stammering skip. There it was – Kento, your Kento, laughing, his shoulders relaxed, the faint lines by his eyes softened by that rare brightness in his gaze as he looked at you. You couldn’t help it; you’d immediately favorited it the moment it hit your inbox, tucked it into a private album, and maybe, possibly, looked at it embarrassingly often.

A few weeks later, though not remotely forgotten to you, it remained blissfully unknown to him.

One evening as you flipped through your camera roll, Kento leaned over the back of the couch, his arm bracing himself as he studied the photos of the fancy dinner the two of you had recently gone to. You’d taken more than one, trying to capture every detail of the delicate plating at his insistence so he could try and recreate it at home.

“Do you have a close-up of that risotto?” he asked, leaning in closer, his arm casually wound around the front of your chest and his breath drifting soft feathers across your cheek. “I want to see how they plated it.”

You nodded with an affirmative hum, flipping back a few photos – only to scroll back just a bit too far and that picture fills your screen, in all of it’s HD, no-longer-secret glory.

Your heart tripped as Kento’s gaze landed on it. You felt the warmth of his presence beside you grow a bit more rigid as he examined the photo, brows raising ever so slightly.

“...That isn’t dinner,” he remarked, clearing his throat beside your ear.

“Oh! That’s, um, just a… candid,” you stumbled, trying desperately for nonchalance. “Yuji took it, and it’s a really nice picture and I don’t have many, so I just…” your efforts to play it cool are skillfully undone by the plucking of your nerves… self-imposed, of course, because Kento remains quiet.

But he was still looking at it, brows drawing together as he studied it with a rare, quiet intensity.

“You favorited it,” he murmured, eyes flicking back to you.

His voice was low, gentle, but you stewed with nervousness all the same. “Well, I mean – look at you!” you laughed, feeling shy under his gaze, like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. “The only pictures I have of you smiling are from our wedding! Let me have this–”

Kento plucked the phone from your hands and you screeched, immediately trying to claw it back. “Wait, don’t delete it!” you laughed, a cauldron of nerves and panic bubbling in your chest as he holds it just out of reach of your swiping hands, his mouth curving in that calm way it always does. You’re sure he’s about to grumble about “nonsense” or “unnecessary photos” or “living in the moment.”

But he didn’t delete it. Instead, he adjusted his glasses and held your phone closer to his face, gazing down at the screen with a gentleness that stopped your protests cold. You caught the flicker of something tender in his eyes as he studied the photo – lingering on you, the way you lean toward him, how happy you look together.

He was silent for a moment, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Then, almost shyly, “Could you… send it to me?”

You felt your eyebrows lift to be lost in your hairline, staring at him as if he’d just asked for the moon. “You… you want me to send it?”

He nodded. “Yes. I think I’d like to keep it.”

Your heart did a little stutter, a flash of warmth rushing to your face as you quickly sent him the photo. You didn’t think your grin could get any wider – but it did as you watched him save it, his expression somewhere between fond and exasperated, like he wasn’t quite sure how he’d gotten here, holding on to a picture of himself simply because it had been yours.

The next morning, with toothbrush in hand and foam dripping down your chin, you checked your phone and blinked, frozen in the middle of a brushstroke. That picture – that picture – was staring back at you as his profile picture, right there on the one or two social media accounts he’d reluctantly made but never actually used. You barely resisted the urge to squeal.

And then, later that day, it happened again: catching the briefest flash of his phone screen across the kitchen table, you saw the photo on his lock screen too. He looked up, catching your wide-eyed staring with a soft smile, one that was just for you, and undeniably better than any picture could ever be.

[elliewithcellie]

Protector

summary: After months working for the BAU, your harbored feelings for your boss seem unrequited until your hunt for the unsub goes awry. (hotch x fem!reader)

wc: 9.8k (oh my god)

cw: slow burn, boss/employee dynamic, age gap pairing, criminal minds level violence, mention of alcoholism, implication of father issues, hurt/comfort, reader gets hurt, fluff, angst, SMUT (18+ MDNI), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, Hotch is a professional at heart and takes work boundaries seriously

a/n: Back in the saddle with a new man to hyper-fixate on. Hotch can GET IT. Also, let me know if anyone wants the SFW version I'm working on

“Looks like we’re doubling up,” Hotch announced, a sigh escaping his lips.

Before you could even process his words, the rest of the team sounded off, choosing their roommates for the duration of the case. All that remained were you and your boss. With the team dispersing, you awkwardly shifted your duffle bag to your other shoulder and looked up at Hotch.

His stern expression didn’t change as he looked back at you. “Come on. We’re 202.”

You followed him to the elevators, still unsure what to think. This was not only your boss but someone you had garnered quite a fondness for since you joined the BAU. Of course, you had managed yourself professionally thus far, but you were sure this was going to test your limits.

You understood the immediate pairings among the rest of the team. You were still fairly new, not quite to the rapport that the team had formed with each other. But it also made you think about how no one chose Hotch. The pressure to be Unit Chief also had to be lonely.

The elevator chimed, and the two of you shuffled in. You kept to yourself, trying to maintain composure. The lift from the first floor to the second felt like an hour, the silence deafening. You couldn’t shake your nerves. The doors opened, and he stepped out. You quickly followed.

Hotch opened the door and allowed you in first. The two double beds, office chair, mini fridge, and small bathroom were all less comforting to you than normal.

“Do you mind if I take the bed by the door?” Hotch asked, his voice softer than usual.

You blinked up at him, stirred from your preoccupation. “Yeah, of course. I like the window side anyway.”

“Thank you. If you’d like, you can have the shower first. I’d like to call Jack before he heads to bed.”

“Sounds good.”

You began to unpack your belongings and sighed in dismay. You had assumed that you would have a room to yourself as usual, so your pajamas were a little more revealing than you’d prefer your boss to see. Still, a t-shirt and shorts were reasonable sleep attire, so you tried not to dwell on it. You collected your things as Hotch dialed a number on his phone.

“Hey, buddy, how was your day?”

You smiled to yourself as you entered the bathroom. His “dad” voice was more upbeat, yet calm and soothing. With Hotch distracted on the phone, you could relax in the shower. The boiling water stung your skin, just the way you needed it. As you relaxed, you realized how silly it was for you to stress over the rooming situation. Hotch was here to do his job, just like you. And other than his intelligence, his kindness, and his fierce compassion for kids, you were sure you were only infatuated with him.

You finished up your shower and towel-dried your hair once you could no longer hear his muffled voice through the door. You were desperate not to waste Hotch’s time. With your hair still wet and your large t-shirt hanging over your shorts, you timidly exited the bathroom back to your bed, on your toes as if you were sneaking around. Hotch sat on his bed, his coat jacket now on the desk chair. He flipped through channels with the remote in one hand and loosened his tie with the other.

“All yours,” you spoke, struggling to get the words out.

Hotch looked up at you and gave a small smile. “Thanks.” He gathered up his things and closed the bathroom door behind him.

Another sigh of relief left your lips. You grabbed the book from your duffle and climbed into bed. You rolled over to turn on the lamp next to you and began to read, but before you knew it, sleep overtook you.

------

“Hotchner.”

You woke up to Hotch answering his phone. The sky was still dark. The only light illuminating the room was the alarm clock. You realized that you hadn’t turned off the lamp before you fell asleep, nor did you place your book carefully on the side table with a hotel pen as the bookmark.

“Alright. Yes. Right. Understood. We’ll be right over.”

You looked up at Hotch expectantly. He looked at you, then averted his eyes as he got out of bed. “Another young girl missing. She’s only 16.” He paced the floor for a moment, a short-lived break from the stoic leader he always has to be.

“I’ll call the others,” you said sitting up. His eyes returned to yours, the strain turning into relief. He only nodded and headed for the closet, suiting up right there.

You called the others and followed suit, leaving the hotel parking lot by 3:46 am.

------

The next 18 hours were long, stressful, and only moderately successful. The team was able to work out an arrangement with the kidnapper before their 24 hours were up. The girl, Heather, was returned to her parents with only a few bruises. But the kidnapper got away, practically goading you all at the ability to remain anonymous. The team was exhausted and out of ideas.

The team drove back to the hotel without a single word exchanged. The kidnapper’s voice rang in your head. He was so confident, arrogant even. There was almost never a moment where he fumbled over his words or cracked. His ruse lasted for hours. But he got sloppy in the end, fessing up to her location just enough for Garcia to triangulate. But something wasn’t adding up to you: his willingness to run instead of killing her when he had the chance.

Hotch spoke up, stirring you from your ruminations. “We need to start from scratch. Reid, give us a rundown on what, where, and why.”

“Well, we know his victims are all young women now ranging from 16 to 23. They come from middle to upper-class families. He sends messages to the families always demanding ransom within 24 hours. Three women have been killed, and now two have survived. The strange part is whether or not he stays truthful to his word. The parents have always given him what he wants, but then it’s up to his discretion whether he follows through.”

 “Based on these girls,” Prentiss interjected, “this guy’s intelligent. He prides himself on the ability to get away with this.”

“That’s good,” Hotch said, eyes still on the road. “But why work with us sometimes and not others?

The SUV hummed as its passengers sat in silence.   

You decided to speak up. “Prentiss said he prides himself on the ability to get away with this, right?” Everyone sat still, expectant for you to continue. “We’re looking at this the wrong way. This isn’t a sadist who gets off on killing. This isn’t a psychopath with a compulsion. This is a narcissistic sociopath who has been evading capture for weeks now. This is a game to him. It’s a game he knows he can win.”

“Which is why when he’s pressured, he releases the girl.” Hotch nodded along.

“He can take a loss where he can because, to him, the ultimate win is to not get caught,” Reid agreed.

“Great work,” Hotch said, parking the car. “You guys head in and get some good sleep. I’ll fill in the other van. Be ready for a big day of planning.”

You walked up with Reid and Prentiss, a small smile refusing to leave your lips. You cracked it, you thought to yourself.

Your two teammates teased each other up to the rooms, you following close behind. You weren’t the type to inject yourself into other people’s conversations, which ended up making it hard to connect with them. It was as if you had been adopted into a family that has known each other their whole lives. You were respected, sure, so there was no need to complain. You just wished that you could make jokes with them and have the levity they had during intense cases like this.

Still, even hearing your teammates laugh was enough for you tonight. You longed for a moment longer, but they said their goodnights and headed off.

You entered your room, much more relaxed than the night before. You had yourself all worked up, and for what? You gathered your things and headed to the shower, sure that Hotch wasn’t far behind and would call his son again.

As you exited the bathroom, Hotch entered the room. You jumped despite yourself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“It’s ok,” was all you said in response. You returned your things to your bag and slid into bed. You turned on the lamp and began reading while Hotch took his turn in the shower.

You were still reading when he returned, the book more interesting now than it was the night before. You glanced up only for a moment. Hotch wore striped pajama pants tonight, contrasted to the boxers you accidentally noticed earlier that morning. You looked back at your book but couldn’t read it. Your mind wandered to the message Hotch could be sending. Maybe your shorts were inappropriate. Maybe you weren’t meant to see his boxer shorts at all. Maybe he was just cold.

“Good work today,” Hotch said, interrupting your thoughts.

You smiled up at him. “It was a team effort.”

“We may have never come to the conclusion you did. Take the compliment.” Hotch’s lips raised to a subtle smirk, something you’ve only seen a handful of times and certainly never directed toward you.

“Yes, sir,” you said. “Thank you.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. Your eyes drifted back to your book.

“What’s your book about?”

Was Hotch trying to make conversation with you? True, it wasn’t as late as yesterday’s arrival, but in all of your months of working for the BAU, any discussion with the team had been strictly professional. Still, you blushed at the question.

“It’s a romance,” you confessed.

“I have to say,” Hotch began, “I’ve never read a romance novel. What about it appeals to you?”

You thought for a moment. “I guess it’s the suspension of disbelief. The relief to enter a reality where people love in big, romantic ways. Don’t you ever want to get swept off your feet?”

You cringed at the question, debating on whether it was appropriate to ask your superior about romance.

“I think I’d rather do the sweeping,” Hotch said thoughtfully.

You smiled at his words.

“You don’t think people love in romantic ways in this reality?” Hotch asked, looking up at the ceiling. His breaths were calm, and his face seemed to soften from serious to curious.

“I don’t know,” you said sincerely. “My sister is about to marry a real stand-up guy. He’s caring and has a good family who loves her, too. It’s one of those one-and-done fairy tale deals. Like truly made for each other. But I wouldn’t say that’s the norm. It’s not my norm, at least. So, yeah, I guess you could say I’m skeptical.”

You crossed your legs and fiddled with your thumbs. You tried not to reflect on your history, tried not to give any clue to your boss of your true beliefs. It didn’t ultimately matter to the conversation, anyway. The silence stewed as it stirred up new thoughts and old patterns, feeling yourself shut down the conversation. You didn’t mean to. You hated being seen as the one that was boring outside of work. The one that wasn’t friendly enough to get to know.

“I’m sure you don’t know,” Hotch began again, shaking you from your anxious thoughts, “but bringing up your sister reminded me that I met your dad a few years ago.”

You shot up. “You know about him?” You covered your face with your hands.

“He was nationally awarded for his work in counterterrorism. Of course, I know about him.” He laughed softly, a sound you weren’t used to but would never complain to hear it again. “I met him on a job in Bakersfield. He knew the town like the back of his hand. Is he why you joined?”

“In a roundabout way,” you sighed.

“He brought up his girls every chance he could.” Hotch smiled and turned to face you. “One was a soccer star in South Carolina on track to be a doctor. One was a track star a semester away from graduating with honors and applying to Physician Assistant programs, I believe.”

“My sisters are overachievers,” you said.

“Then it’s you he talked about the most. The musician, the future psychologist, the one who found fascination with the minute details of life.”

“My dad said all that?”

“He did. He had offered us beers when it was all over, and he shared photos of you all. You’re certainly much more grown now.” He chuckled.

Your cheeks flushed red at the comment.

“I showed him Jack playing tee-ball, and we both shared some stories before it was time to go. He had some great advice to give.”

“I’m sure he did,” you mumbled. “Sir, I don’t want you to think I got in because of him. He didn’t know until I made it to Quantico. I mean, yes, he always pushed the army and West Point like him, but I did this all on my own, Mr. Hotchner, I swear.”

“Hotch is fine,” he gently corrected. “I’m not worried about where you came from. I knew the entire time. But your qualifications are what got you on the team, not your father. Keep up the good work, and I’ll continue to remember that.”

“Yes, sir.” You thought to yourself for a moment. The candor of the conversation may have added to your bravery in this moment. “Hotch?”

He raised his eyebrows to imply he was listening.

“Umm, Is there anything that I can do to, like… never mind. I’m about to sound pathetic.” You huffed back down into your pillow. You couldn’t believe you were about to ask Hotch how to make friends.

“They’ll warm up to you, just like you’ll warm up to them. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and I’m sure they’ll see you for who you are.”

You sighed again. Of course, he knew what you were stressing about. He’s the chief profiler after all.

“I’ll let you read now,” Hotch said, getting up from bed. “I’m going to call Jack.”

You gave a small smile and nodded, and he left the room.

------

You woke up the next morning to Hotch returning to the room, two disposable coffee cups and a case file in his hands.

You jerked up from bed. “Am I late?” you asked, scared you slept through the alarm.

“No, no,” he said, walking over to you. “I’m early. Coffee?”

He held out one of the cups to you. You gently accepted.

“Thank you.” You looked over at the clock. 5:54. You rubbed your eyes. “Are you always up this early?”

“On the job, yes,” he said with no inflection. “Much to think about, and much to be done.” He sat back on his bed and reviewed the file you knew he had reviewed countless times. If he was anything like you, he was searching for some hidden puzzle piece, something that the team must have missed to solve the case once and for all. But it was never that easy. Still, maybe some fresh eyes could help.

You slid out of your bed and rested on top of his. “Can I help?”

“Be my guest.” He shifted the file your way for a better vantage point. You crossed your legs and sipped your coffee before getting to work.

You found yourself lost in thought, jotting down those thoughts in the margins. It helped to visualize your connections, even drawing physical lines to connect them. You noticed that the most recent girl didn’t fit the age range of the others, 19-23. You dug deeper, making a note to ask Garcia to run the connection between all of these girls. College? you wrote. There was a college campus within ten minutes of the hotel. One more thing struck you. All of the victims had their hair up in a high ponytail. You weren’t sure how that was associated yet, but you wrote beside each of the photos anyway.

As the early sun began to rise, you grew brutally aware of Hotch’s presence. His body leaned closer to yours, and you felt his eyes sear into your skin. You grew distracted, your mind wandering to the fact that you were wearing only a loose shirt and small shorts in Hotch’s bed. Was he noticing the same thing? Was this a breach of professionalism? Were you making him uncomfortable? Against all your will, you felt your body temperature rise in the form of a blush.

The alarm clock rang out, pulling both Hotch and your attention. You stretched over to turn it off.

“I’ll let you get ready,” Hotch said, jumping out of bed. He headed to the door, refusing to meet your gaze. “Meet me downstairs?”

“Yes, sir,” you said, slightly surprised by the questioning tone of your superior. He nodded and left the room before another word could be spoken.

-------

In the conference room of the local police station sat the team, all watching Hotch interact with the captain of the squad through the glass. You stayed facing the table with your head low. You couldn’t help the bounce of your leg. While the others inferred the conversation outside, your mind had fixated on the morning’s events. The heat of your boss’s breath had tattooed your skin, a branding to the back of your neck. The intimacy, the closeness, and then the flustered nature Hotch left in replayed in your mind. You couldn’t look at him until you could properly collect yourself.

“What’s on your mind, kiddo?” Morgan asked. Your head shot up. All eyes were on you now. You failed to hide the rouging in your cheeks.

“Nothing.” You shrugged, though you knew the contradiction in your body language.

JJ chuckled. “Nothing? You’re so tense, so distracted.”

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours, huh?” Morgan asked again, a smile growing on his face. “Hotch keeping you up all night?”

You flinched at his name. You couldn’t help it, but you outed yourself all the same.

“No, I slept fine. I swear.”

“You flinched!” Prentiss laughed and pointed. “It is about Hotch, isn’t it?”

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Rossi said, not bothering to look up from his newspaper.

“Hon, you better tell us what happened in the next three seconds.” Derek swatted at Spencer’s chest. “Reid, help us out, here.”

“Based on the months we’ve known her, she tends to—”

 “Don’t you start profiling me, Reid.” You glared at Spencer across the table.

His arms shot up in the air as if to surrender, but a smirk remained on his face. “All I’m saying is that I know the physical signs of a crush when I see one.”

Your jaw dropped. The conference room filled with laughter.

“Leave her alone!” Garcia yelled from behind you. “She’s our sensitive little one!”

“I’m not 5,” you mumbled, crossing your arms. Penelope hugged you from behind as if to protect you from the others. The others continued to laugh, causing you to smile despite yourself. Morgan took a photo of you and Garcia, and warmth spread through you. Even with all the teasing, being here with the team felt good.

Just then Hotch rushed through the door. “Alright, let’s be seated and get to work. We have a big day ahead of us.” Garcia took her seat, but Hotch stayed standing, opting to position himself in front of the whiteboard. “After speaking with the captain and going through the case file with Y/N this morning, I determined our best attack on the situation. Though, it is rather unorthodox.”

The rest of the team stayed silent, waiting for the punchline. Hotch continued. “What do we know about our killer better than anything? His victimology. We know that he goes after girls and young women aged 16-23. They are middle to upper-class, and not the type to find themselves in trouble. Now, who do we all know who fits this very description?”

“Y/N,” Reid said.

All eyes returned to you, this time with a seriousness looming in the air.

“If we don’t want any other kidnappings, we need to give him what he wants. Going after the 16-year-old was off for him. He’s devolving. Which means we need to act fast before he kills again. This is the only way we can approach this head-on.”

“Hotch,” Emily began, “with all due respect, let me take this on. Or JJ. JJ has experience.”

“With his victimology going as low as 16 now, it should be someone who looks the part,” Reid replied.

“She’s just a kid, Hotch.” Morgan reached his hand toward your shoulder, but you gently nudged it away.

“But I’m not a kid at all,” you spoke up. “I have two degrees and the same job as the rest of you. I know I’m young and look younger, but I’m qualified. If my appearance can be used to put this guy away, then let me help. Let me do my job.” You looked up at Hotch, a sudden confidence flowing through your veins. “What do you need me to do?”

-------

For the rest of the day, the team helped you prepare for your role as a 22-year-old college student. The team strategized and planned, desperate to ensure your safety. Everyone added their two cents, but you were happy to receive all the insight you were given. You weren’t going to screw this up for them.

You, Hotch, Prentiss, and Morgan returned to the hotel to pick among your belongings to dress the part. Rossi, Reid, and JJ stayed behind with Garcia to set up intel at the station.

“The shorts you wore to bed,” Hotch began, “go put those on while we find a sweatshirt or jacket. In fact, wear the shirt you wore, too. The size could conceal the mic better.”

You nodded and grabbed your things before heading into the bathroom. It was not lost on you that your boss was thoroughly aware of your pajama situation, but due to the pivotal role you were to perform, it was easier to focus on the task at hand.

You returned from the bathroom where Emily greeted you with the mic. You lifted your arms, allowing Emily to snake the mic underneath your shirt, securing it to your sternum with sports tape. While doing so, Hotch and Morgan returned with a single sweatshirt in Morgan’s hand. It was grungy and old, not quite the goal aesthetic.

Still, Morgan handed it to you to try on. The three profilers evaluated your look.

“This isn’t gonna work,” Morgan said. Prentiss pinched her eyebrows together in dismay. Hotch stayed staring.

“Take off the sweatshirt,” Hotch ordered. “I think I have something better.”

You did as he said while he rummaged through his duffle bag. He pulled out a quarter zip of excellent quality, something he only wears on a successful plane ride home.

“Put it on.”

You didn’t hesitate to follow his instructions. It was a large fit, hanging just above the hem of your shorts and the sleeves landing at your fingertips. The three of them looked at you, then to their reference photos, then back at you. Something was missing.

“Call Reid. Maybe he can find any other similarity we’re missing,” Hotch said.

“No, I got it.” You remembered the notes you made earlier that morning. You took the hair tie from your wrist and pulled your hair up into a high ponytail. “Now, what do you think?”

“That’s it,” Morgan said.

“And just in time,” Emily noted, “We gotta get you to the college fast.”

On the ride to the school, Hotch reiterated the goals in place.

“All you need to do is walk across campus using the roads. Keep to yourself, and most importantly, do not—and I mean it—do NOT, get into the vehicle under any circumstances. Stall him, flirt with him, do anything you can to keep him in place. We’ll be right there. Got it?”

“Yes, sir. I got it.”

“We’re counting on you.”

“Good luck.” Prentiss smiled with seriousness behind her eyes.

Morgan grabbed your shoulder, turning you around. “Be smart, kiddo.”

You returned a small smile and left the van to venture on your walk.

------

You had to have walked the streets for at least an hour. The campus was massive, larger than any school you attended. You did as you were told and kept to yourself. The sun had long since set, so there was no warmth to guard you from the biting breeze. A car or two passed periodically, but none slowed down beside you. There was a peace in the solitude. One could chalk it up to the calm before the storm, but you weren’t afraid.

Another car passed, but this time it slowed down. Your heart stopped and landed in your throat.

“Excuse me,” the man called out. The voice was unforgettable. The very same voice that threatened to kill the girl over the phone. The voice that replayed in your mind for hours. You knew it was him.

You turned to face him, trying to commit every detail to memory. He was a conventionally attractive man with lighter hair and a smile that you would have swooned over under any other circumstance. He wore a white polo and jeans and drove a two-door black convertible with the top down.

“Sorry,” he said. “I’m looking for a party my buddy’s throwing, but I don’t go here.”

“I’ll say you don’t,” you chuckled as you walked closer. “Your car must cost my tuition!”

The man grinned. “You like? I could take you for a spin. But I’ll have you know; I like to go fast.”

“Mmmm, top-down, wind in my hair,”—you inched closer still, to feign some sort of interest— “but don’t you have a party you’re missing?”

“Well, if you show me where to go, maybe I’ll consider you my plus one.” He winked.

“Now, do I look like the partying type to you?” You laughed and rested your arms on his car door.

Without another word, he grabbed you by the upper arms and pulled you into the driver’s seat. You screamed at the top of your lungs. You tried to fight him from your disadvantaged position, but he was stronger, quicker. He forced you into the passenger seat as he wailed punch after punch into your jaw.

“Nice. Girls. Don’t. Scream!” he yelled. He punctuated his words with one final blow to the head. And as you drifted out of consciousness, you weren’t sure if the roof was closing above you or if the sky was turning black.

------

The sound of fireworks stirred you from your unconsciousness. Lights of reds and blues lit the night sky. You smiled at the serenity of the celebration. You didn’t want to go, but the strong hands beneath you lifted you away. You were much too tired to argue, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. The faint words “stay with me” echoed in your mind, and if staying meant remaining in the comfort of the person who held you, you’d be content to stay there forever.

------

You woke up to blinding white lights. This must be heaven you assumed. You blinked through the searing lights and realized it wasn’t heaven at all. You were in a hospital. The sheets, the gown, the blinking monitors, and a small TV playing all clouded your senses. You reached up to rub your head, but someone was holding your hand.

Hotch moved with you, stirring him out of his strained slumber. He had pulled a chair to your bed, his head resting next to your knee. He lifted his head and looked up at you, an urgency deep within his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” He didn’t let go of your hand.

“I—uhhh—Hotch, what’s goin’ on?” You found your breathing quickening at the sound of your slurred speech, the confusion becoming too much to handle.

“You’re ok. You’re gonna be ok. The doctor said they want to keep you overnight, but the team’s on their way.”

“No, no.” You pulled your hand away. “They can’t see me like this. You can’t see me like this! I’m not put together. I—I feel like I'm gonna be sick. I can’t feel my arms. Are my hands shaking? I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out!”

Hotch all but jumped at your ramblings, his eyebrows raised in shock. Before he could answer you burst into tears.

“Hotch, I’m gonna be sick,” you said through your convulsions.

Hotch jumped up in search of a bucket. He grabbed the trashcan at the corner of the room and brought it to you just in time. Tears streamed down your face as you threw up into the trashcan. Hotch held your hair back and gently rubbed your back.

Your nausea subsided, but your panic remained. Hotch sat on the bed, pulling you into his chest. You gripped him with all your might, desperate for the shakes to go away.

“You're alright. You're safe, ok? I think the medicine is messing with you a little. Take some deep breaths for me. I need you to relax, ok?”

You tried to take breaths at the pace Hotch set. Hotch’s hand combed through your hair as he tried to soothe you. Eventually, you were able to cool off. Hotch gently rested you back on your pillow. “Why don’t we go back to sleep for a little, ok? I think you’ll feel better when you wake up.”

You nodded, your face still wet from the tears. You repositioned yourself and fell asleep within moments.

When you woke up again, your mind was your own. Your head was pounding, and your body ached. You allowed yourself to adjust to your environment before searching for Hotch. There he sat by your bed, talking to a nurse. You cleared your throat effortfully. Hotch stood and approached you.

“How are you?”

“Everything hurts.”

“They’re giving you ibuprofen now. It seems like you were reacting to the morphine poorly.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“Not at all,” Hotch said seriously. “Do you remember what I told you? That they want to keep you overnight?”

“That does ring a bell,” you said as you rubbed your head. “Is the team here?”

“They are. I told them to wait outside until you were ready.”

“Oh, ok.” You thought for a moment. “Hotch?”

“Yes?”

“Can—Can you tell me what happened? Like, did we win? Is everyone ok?”

Hotch chuckled, but his eyes appeared sad. “Everyone is fine. We got him. Are you sure you want to talk about this now? Why don’t we wait until you—”

“Hotch. Please.”

Hotch sighed and took a moment to think. “Well, we knew we were looking for an expensive convertible thanks to you.” He smiled. “So, we began our search as you spoke. But then, we all heard you scream.”

You flinched at the word, your memory of the gruesome event beginning to reassemble.

“Of course, it was full speed at that point. He had you, and we weren’t going to lose you. We cornered him on a dead-end road just outside of campus. We didn’t let him get far. Prentiss shot out one of his tires, so he started running. Prentiss and Morgan ran for him, and I ran to you.”

He paused. He looked away as his bottom lip trembled. He took a deep breath in as he settled into his natural professionalism again.

“We had EMT on standby, so we were able to get here quickly.”

You nodded, realizing it was Hotch who carried you out. The fireworks, the lights, the “stay with me”, the reality of it all crashed in on you in the form of a shudder.

“It was you?” you asked.

Hotch knit his eyebrows together and tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“You pulled me out. I felt you. I think I heard you.”

“Someone had to make sure you were ok.”

The fact that it was Hotch warmed your heart. Still, a question lingered in your mind. “Is he still alive?”

Hotch shook his head no.

“Mm,” was all you could say in response. There was no room for emotion. No time to process an opinion. You were just glad it was over. “What time is it?”

Hotch checked his watch. “It’s 2:43.”

“In the morning? Sir, with all good intentions, go to bed. Go tell the team to—”

Just behind Hotch, you caught a glimpse of Spencer in the doorway. “Is now a good time?” he asked.

You smiled and nodded. Spencer peeked his head back out and in a loud whisper said, “It’s clear! Go, go, go!”

The rest of the team hustled into the room and crowded around your bed. One by one, greetings and gentle hugs made their rounds, and your smile grew bigger and bigger.

“It’s a party now,” you said, a giggle bubbling out of your throat.

“Oh, she’s got the right idea,” JJ said as she sat close to you on the bed. She carefully moved a strand of hair from your face.

Prentiss laughed. “All we need now is some good music, a dance floor, and some drinks.”

The room filled with a few laughs and overall agreement.

“Too bad you all aren’t even supposed to be here,” Hotch said, slightly scolding the team. “It’s probably time for you all to call it a night.”

“Aw, Hotch, just a few minutes?” Garcia asked.

“We’ll be quiet!” Reid said.

Everyone looked at Hotch expectantly. You looked around at your teammates. They all were begging for a couple more minutes with you. That alone allowed your pain to subside.

Hotch sighed. “Just a couple more minutes.” A small smile formed on his face.

Everyone crowded around the bed, content murmurs and chatter filling the room again.

“Now be honest, guys. How bad do I look?” You shot them all a cheesy smile to sell it.

A few of them chuckled at your antics.

“I think you’ll be back to dating in no time,” Prentiss joked. “Guys love a badass scar.”

“Yeah, ’cause she was dating before,” JJ teased as she played with your hair.

“Shut up!” you giggled, coughing a little.

“I’ll get you water.” Hotch shot up and walked off.

“I’ll go with him,” Rossi said, sighing.

A seriousness enveloped the room. Derek was the first to speak up. “You know, you really scared us today, kiddo. Not to get all big brother on you, but it was tough seeing Hotch carrying you like that. Just limp.”

“And imagine how Hotch must have felt,” Reid said.

You looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

Just then Hotch and Rossi returned with your water.

“Drink,” he said, his arm outstretched. You grabbed the water from him, your fingers overlapping his. The memory of his hands shot through your spine. His frantic begging for you to stay with him, much more panicked than you remembered the phrase.

Imagine how Hotch must have felt.

“It’s getting late,” Rossi said.

The rest of the team grumbled and said their goodbyes. Hotch allowed the rest of the team to go, lingering in the room with you.

“If you need me to stay, I’d be happy to do so.”

“You need sleep, sir.”

“I’ll sleep on the plane,” he said as if it was nothing to him. “If you don’t think you’ll need me, I can let you be. We can be here early to pick you up.”

You thought for a moment. You didn’t want him to go, just in case. “Would you be willing to stay?”

“It’s why I offered.”

You felt your lip begin to tremble, the brave face for the rest of the team beginning to fade. “Hotch?”

“What can I do?”

“Well, I just… Can I use your phone? I think my mom should know I’m alright.”

“Of course.” He handed you his phone. “I’ll wait right outside for you.”

When the phone call was finished, Hotch returned and sat down in the chair.

“If you’re going to stay, I at least want you comfortable,” you said.

“The chair is fine,” Hotch said, taking his coat off for the first time today. “Get some sleep.”

You scooted to the side of your bed. “Here. At least sit up here where there’s some cushion.”

He didn’t respond right away. You knew you could convince him.

“I promise I’ll sleep,” you continued. “I’d be up worrying about your discomfort otherwise.”

Hotch sighed and stood up. “Only because I want you to sleep.”

He sat in the space you made for him at your feet. He stretched his legs alongside yours and rested his back against the footboard of the hospital bed.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you curled up on your side. The comfort in knowing that he was there to take care of you was enough to send you off to sleep in minutes.

“Goodnight, Hotch.”

“Goodnight.”

------

You woke up to something you had never seen before. Hotch was asleep at the foot of your bed, resting his head against your shins. A hand was placed just below your knee as if he planned to protect you in his sleep. It was the most peaceful you had ever seen him. He didn’t look cross or serious. He was calm and relaxed. You smiled to yourself. You had to fight the urge to return his touch. You knew the moment he woke up he’d return to his professional senses, and you weren’t quite ready for this moment to be over.

The doctor walked in to check on you, stirring him awake, anyway.

“I’m clearing you. Take these twice a day. Your jaw is going to be sore for a couple weeks, so work up to crunchy and chewy foods. And please, no strenuous activity for at least a full week.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said, taking the bottle of pills.

“Thank you,” Hotch said. He stood up from your bed as the doctor left. He threw his jacket on and fixed his hair in the window’s reflection.

You sat up and swung your legs off the bed. Hotch spun around and met you at your side.

“How can I help?”

You chuckled. “I think I can stand on my own.”

His eyes shared signs of concern and disbelief. Still, he took a small step back and allowed you to gather your bearings. Standing on your own, you closed the small gap between you. You began to become painstakingly aware of your attire being only a hospital gown and rubber socks.

“You got it?” Hotch asked, his arms out like you were a baby taking your first steps.

“Mmhmm,” you said. “Are my clothes here?”

“Yes, let me grab them for you.” He rushed to the corner of the room where your clothes had been neatly folded, including his sweater. He handed them all to you, his hands brushing against yours. Your heart fluttered in your chest as he stood over you. You looked up at him. His eyes returned your gaze, though you weren’t able to read him. His chest rose and fell as if his breathing was slow and deliberate.

“I’m going to call the team,” Hotch said, his voice low. “Do you—do you need help with anything before I do?”

All you could do was shake your head no on instinct, your eyes not leaving his. He stayed still. His eyes scanned you like he was contemplating something. He backed up carefully and pulled his phone from his coat pocket.

“Wait,” you said.

He froze.

You felt your face redden as you worked up the courage to continue. “Could—could you untie the top for me? My shoulder—”

“You don’t have to explain,” he said softly as he inched forward again. “Turn around.”

You did as you were told. He brushed your hair over your shoulder and began to work on the knot. His calloused fingers feathered your skin. His warm breath betrayed you as chills ran down your spine. He untied the knot, allowing cool air to reach the back of your now-open gown. Hotch turned to leave.

“Be careful,” he said at the door. “If you need me, knock on the glass.”

You nodded.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

------

The drive from the hospital to the hotel rendered the air stale. Hotch had insisted on helping you out of the hospital and into the car. But he didn’t speak. He drove while you sat in the back seat. Every once in a while, you’d catch him checking on you in the rear-view mirror, only to direct his attention back to the road.

When you returned to the hotel, Hotch stopped you from leaving the car.

“I’ll grab your things. You stay here.”

“I can get my things just fine.”

“Your bag is heavy. Doctor’s orders. No strenuous activity. Stay here.”

You huffed and sat back in your seat as Hotch closed the door for you.

The plane ride was the same: silent. Hotch sat opposite you as if he refused to allow you to leave his sight. But he kept to himself all the same. The others rested or played their card games, but you stayed put, almost waiting for Hotch to make his next move. He didn’t speak the entire flight.

Upon your return, Hotch dismissed the rest of the team.

“Thank you for the hard work this weekend. Rest up, and I will see you all Monday.”

You all headed out to leave, but Hotch stopped you. “Let me take you home,” he said.

You sighed. “Is driving a strenuous task now?”

“It’s late, and I’m not asking,” he said, returning your attitude.

You followed him to his car. He carried both his and your bag and placed them in the backseat before joining you up front.

Again, not a word was spoken between the two of you. You felt your blood boiling beneath your skin. It was as if the trip never happened, as if the distance between you never closed. The babying was the worst of all. You were sure he was seeing you as the rest of the team did now, incapable, fragile, only a child.

Hotch walked you up to your apartment. He waited for you to open your door, placing your bag directly inside.

“Well,” you began, “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

He stood in your doorway for a moment, something on his mind. “Are you sure you’re ok? Is there anything else you think you may need before I go?”

“Hotch, what is all this?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You tried to maintain your sanity, but the anger had bubbled into your throat. “All this, this, this coddling! You’re treating me like I’m fragile or, or useless!”

“Do I have to remind you that you were in the hospital this morning?” Hotch asked, aggravation coating his throat.

“I don’t need this from you, too, ok? The rest of them, I can take it, but you were different! I thought you were different.”

Hotch closed the door behind him and crossed his arms. “What are you talking about?”

“Have you not noticed that all of them treat me like I’m a child? Derek literally calls me kiddo, and the girls act like I’m some innocent girl fresh out of high school. Reid and JJ are five years older than me. That’s it! Rossi, forget it. I’m like a grandchild to him at this point. But you, you never belittled me. So, what is this? Did I fail you? I’d rather you just tell me than refuse to speak to me.”

“I – you didn’t fail me. How could you think that?”

“You couldn’t even look at me after the hospital.”

Hotch’s face turned a light shade of pink, his eyes leaving yours for only a moment. “We were successful because of you. But you got hurt. I just want to make sure you’re ok. That’s all.”

You thought for a moment, still not satisfied with his answer. “Then why didn’t you talk to me? I thought we were—I thought maybe there was something—”

“Please,” Hotch interrupted, “don’t say anything you might regret.” He took a step back.

“Are you saying I’m imagining this? That I imagined this morning?”

“No, no, no. We’re not doing this.”

“The coffee, the book put away neatly,”

“I would do that for anyone.”

“What about when you stormed out yesterday? When we were going over the file on your bed.” Your voice started to shake.

“That’s when I—I realized we had to use you.” He looked down, almost ashamed.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear that you’ve outed yourself and maybe you were more delusional than you thought.

“This morning…” you said.

“You asked for my help, and I helped you. Just like I’m happy to do for you now if you need. Look, it’s late, and you’ve gone through a lot.”

“Then what did Reid mean?”

Hotch looked back up at you. He looked nervous, something you may have never seen in his eyes before. “What do you mean?”

“He said imagine how you must have felt when you found me. What did he mean by that if it doesn’t mean you care about me?”

“Of course, I care about you!” he exclaimed, moving closer to you. “I almost lost you! And when I found you, I thought you were gone. You were lifeless. So, forgive me for wanting to be careful with you, because I refuse to let that happen again. I refuse to lose you again.”

You looked at him in shock.

He sighed. “I shouldn’t have said any of this. Listen, the only reason you’re feeling anything for me is because it’s me you woke up to. Nothing more. If Reid or Morgan found you, the same thing would happen with them.”

“Do not chalk this up to some damsel in distress situation,” you said a little too boldly. “The whole team knows I have a thing for you.”

Now Hotch was in shock. He shook his head. “It’s not me you want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know you’re desperate for romance in your life because you either don’t make time for it in real life or were burned so bad in the past, that you gave it up entirely.”

“Hotch, don’t you dare profile me right now.”

“I know you have a rocky relationship with men in general, rooted in your relationship with your father.”

“Stop it, now.”

“You refuse to associate with him in any way. You don’t even allow us to call you by your last name. He views you differently from your sisters for some reason, and you hate him for it.”

“Hotch, I swear to god—”

“You mocked him for giving good advice, and you flinched when I brought up getting beers with him. He’s an alcoholic, isn’t he?”

“So, what, honestly? Literally who cares if he drinks? He gets mean, so what? What gives you the right to tell me what I can and cannot have?”

“But he’s not just mean, is he?”

The air in your lungs got caught in your throat.

“That’s it, isn’t it? That’s how he treats you differently.”

“That’s enough,” you said, your voice cold.

Hotch stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with both hands. You shuddered in his grasp. “You don’t want me, ok? I can’t fix what you’ve gone through. I can’t even protect you at work. Do you know the guilt I feel for what happened to you? I’m the one who got you hurt. And now I have to live with that. What makes you think that I can be what you need if I can’t even keep you safe here?”

You closed what little space was left between you. You looked up at him, your face only inches from his. “Stop telling me what I want. I’m an adult. I can make my own choices. You’re not going to push me away like this.”

Hotch’s breath hitched in his throat. His chest heaved up and down, and his eyes darkened. “This is wrong. I’m your superior. This isn’t appropriate.”

“If you truly don’t want me, I’ll stop. We’ll go back to how things were. But you have to say you don’t want me.”

His grip on your shoulders strengthened, his touch burning into your skin. His now wild eyes scanned you as if he couldn’t have fathomed this happening. A lump formed in your throat as you waited for him to find the words. Instead, he pulled you flush against him and pressed his lips against yours. His kiss was raw and desperate, rougher than your healing jaw could take, but you couldn’t care less. He wrapped his arms around your back and gripped your hair as if it was instinctual. Your breathing hitched, causing you to moan into his mouth.

He pulled away, slightly out of breath. “I need you to tell me this is ok.”

“This is ok,” you said, breathless.

“Good,” Hotch said, “because I don’t want to stop.”

A smirk formed on your face. You grabbed a hold of his tie and pulled him closer to you. “Then I think you need to take this off.”

You dropped the tie and kissed him as he took his coat off. Your mouth wandered to his jaw. Hotch let out a groan.

“Your room. Now.”

His words sent chills down your spine. You took his hand and led him to your room. You turned around and watched Hotch remove his tie, sliding it through his collar. His eyes stayed on yours, his already dark eyes now almost black with desire. The moment his tie came off, he was back on you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His hands wandered to your ass and lifted you up, his lips never leaving your skin. You wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to your bed.

Hotch laid you down, now hovering over you. His lips drifted from yours down to your neck.

“Seeing you in this had me thinking horrible things,” Hotch confessed, slightly pulling on the quarter zip you were still wearing.

You blushed. “Really?” you asked, a smug smile growing on your face. “Is that why you were avoiding me?”

“Was it really that obvious?” Hotch asked, his large hands finding their way under your shirt.

You couldn’t even answer as his hands ventured up to your chest. His hands pulled a moan from your mouth.

“Take this off,” Hotch said as he pulled the hem of your shirt.

“You, first.”

Hotch’s eyebrows raised as if surprised by your reply. He sat up and unbuttoned his shirt. You practically drooled at the sight of him shirtless. You could only assume he was fit when he rolled up his sleeves or manhandled unsubs, but this was all the confirmation you needed.

“Your turn,” he said.

You did as you were told, revealing yourself to him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighed as he kissed your chest.

You fought off a moan. You couldn’t believe this was happening. This was only something you pictured in your wildest dreams, and here he was in the flesh.

“I wanted this for so long,” you found yourself saying out loud.

“Me, too,” he agreed. “You have no idea how much I thought about this.”

Your cheeks flushed red. He began leaving marks past your breasts, down your stomach to the hem of your shorts.

“Can I take these off?” Hotch asked.

You nodded.

“Use your words, honey.”

Your stomach did a flip hearing the phrase. “Yes, sir. Take them off.”

He all but growled in response. He pulled at your shorts, taking them off in a swift motion.

“So much for no strenuous activities,” you joked.

“I can be gentle,” Hotch said as he settled in between your legs. “Let me take care of you.”

Your head fell back onto your pillow. You knew you were in for it.

Hotch spread your legs apart, the stretch enough for you to arch into his touch.

A smirk graced his lips, and without another word, he licked into your core. His mouth against you was like a gift from God, something you had only hoped could feel so good. You couldn’t help but squirm against him, grabbing his hair to pull him closer, if at all possible. He placed a hand on your stomach to keep you still. You could feel him smile against you, turning you on even more.

“Hotch,” you breathed out. You were close faster than you had ever been.

“Say my name,” he said as he placed a finger inside you.

“A-Aaron,” you choked out, the new sensation too much to handle. He filled you with another finger, his hitting the spot your fingers never could.

“Fuck, Aaron, don’t stop. Please.” Your breathing quickened, and as he pumped his fingers in and out, you felt the coil in your stomach snap, expletives and his name leaving your lips. Hotch continued to pump you as you rode your high, a daze overtaking you.

When you caught your breath, you pulled Hotch back up for a kiss, your hands finding their way to his belt.

Hotch’s hands stopped yours. You looked up at him, confused.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, genuine concern lacing his voice.

“I want this if you do. Do you?” you asked.

“I really do,” he said. “I need to feel you.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Then please let me help you.”

He released your hands and kissed your forehead as you unbuckled his belt. The moment felt ironically wholesome until you pulled at his dress pants. You couldn’t help but gawk at his cock springing free. You were suddenly nervous, not quite sure it would fit after all this time practically revirginizing. If your jaw weren’t so sore, you’d have him in your mouth without a second thought.

“I’ll be gentle, I promise,” he said as if he could hear your thoughts. “I don’t want to hurt you.” Hotch hovered over you and kissed your lips softly. You returned the kiss and nodded.

Hotch lined himself up with your entrance and carefully pushed in. He and you both groaned at the sensation, the stretch of him filling you something you hadn’t experienced in years.

“Jesus Christ. You’re so, this isn’t your first time, is it?”

“No, no,” you said, slightly embarrassed. “It’s just been a while. Just, just go slow, ok?”

Hotch nodded and started to move. He rested his forehead on yours, sighs and pants escaping both of your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Hotch asked.

You chuckled at his question. “We’re a little past that, aren’t we?”

Hotch smiled as he placed his lips on yours, much more tender than before. He moved a stray hair from your face and cupped your cheek with the utmost gentility. The urgency was gone, replaced by something deeper. Everything had culminated to this moment, and neither of you wanted to waste it.

Still, the need for more overtook you. “Aaron,” you said, your hips bucking up into his.

“What do you need? I need you to tell me.”

“Faster, please,” you said.

His pace quickened, one hand still around you. He used the other to stabilize himself, allowing you to view the tension in his muscles. You bit back a moan as the pressure inside you built.

“Don’t hold back,” Hotch said. “Let me hear you.”

He slammed into you, a smirk growing on his face as your breath caught in your throat.

“Just like that!” you blurted out.

He did just that, slamming into you again and again.

“Fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can last,” Hotch said, his voice almost shaking.

“I’m close, too. Please don’t stop,” you begged.

He pounded into you harder and faster, no longer a rhythm but a motive, a goal to achieve.

“Come for me, honey. I’ve got you. Just come for me.”

You clenched around him as you came, all but screaming his name. His pace didn’t let up as you rode your orgasm, your legs trembling around him.

“Oh, god. I’m gonna, where do I—”

“Chest!”

He pulled out and came on your chest, making the most attractive groans you had ever heard in your life. You watched in awe, absolute shock overtaking you. Never in your wildest dreams did you picture this. And for the love of god, you hoped this wasn’t the last time this happened.

Hotch crawled over you, still catching his breath, and captured your lips in a kiss.

“How are you feeling?” Hotch asked. “Is your head ok?”

“I’m good,” you said smiling at his return to his overprotective self. “I’m really good. I promise.”

Hotch rested his forehead on yours then kissed you, the tenderness returning.

“I like when you do that,” you said, your cheeks reddening.

“Me, too,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You don’t have to help, if you don’t want to.”

“What, and miss showering with you?” Hotch smiled. “Just lead the way.”

In the shower, the two of you washed up, and you couldn’t knock the smile from your face if you tried, until you thought about showing up to work Monday morning.

“What are you thinking about?” Hotch asked.

“The team’s gonna know,” you said.

Hotch thought for a moment. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. For now, well, I wouldn’t have done it in this order, but would you like to join me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blushed, despite the state you were both in. “Are you asking me on a date?”

Hotch smiled. “I’m asking you on a date, yes. I have to be honest, though, I’m out of practice.”

“If tonight was you out of practice, I think tomorrow will go just fine.”

Hotch laughed and kissed you again, something you hoped would never fade in your memory.

************

ForeversTaglist:

@lizziedizzie3 @heavennleeee-blog @hunterswearingplaid @thisismysecrethappyplace @geekinator9 @ronnie248-blog @oliolioxiclean @phonegalhelp @because-you-never-know-when @roonyxx @keithseabrook27 @ericaprice2008 @heythereamigodude

[honeyedfate]

loverboy | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x idol!gf!reader

jake is in love. completely smitten. and anyone in his immediate vicinity knows it. they also know that jake is an incredibly caring and thoughtful boyfriend and that he’d do anything for you. which makes it all the more frustrating when both of your fans believe that you can barely stand each other. they even have proof.

genre. fluff

a/n: wishing everyone a happy new year! may 2025 be kind to all of us x

[ › second part ][ › third part ]

jake is not a lover boy. he knows that. he’s never been overly well-versed in romance and he never pretended to be. nonetheless, he believes that there is a pertinent distinction to be made between being a hopeless romantic and being a good boyfriend.

the latter is what he strives for every day of his life. if romance is a language then it might not be his native tongue but, damn it, he works tirelessly to be fluent in it. he wears the title of being a good boyfriend like it’s a polished badge of honour, not expecting anything in return but solely doing it because he believes you don’t deserve anything less (and because he’s hopelessly in love, but that’s besides the point).

so how he ends up in this deeply offensive predicament is a mystery to him. he will lose sleep over it and will continue to do so until it’s resolved, which is seemingly why he’s sat in a meeting room at the company building, nervously spinning his chair while sneaking glances at you.

if he’s a nervous wreck then you’re the embodiment of a peace sign. he is simply in awe at how you’re this unperturbed by the presence of your managers, a pr team, a higher executive, and jungwon and chaewon. to say he was equal parts surprised and confused when he first walked into this room is an understatement.

it was exacerbated once you entered the room as well, looking just as puzzled and uninformed by this meeting as he was. you sat a respectable distance away from him, yet your presence still calmed jake down.

until it didn’t.

alarm bells slowly started ringing once he looked around the room. the bells were practically blaring when yuki said, “jake, as your manager and your friend you know that i only want what’s best for you. you know that. and y/n, you’ve been spending enough time with us to know that i’m fond of you, i think you’re a good kid. i care for both of you, which is the only reason why i’m asking you this.” he hesitated a little, taking a deep breath. “are you two dating?”

the silence was loud.

neither of you dared to glance at each other. an eternity must’ve passed until chaewon cleared her throat and said in a calm, steady voice, “it’s okay, guys. really.”

jake glanced at jungwon who was nodding eagerly. that was when you caught jake’s eye and he immediately knew you wanted to tell them. you had both talked about this before, letting him know that you wouldn’t mind if the company knew. you also knew that jake had his hesitations.

just telling the guys and knowing that you had told the girls nearly gave him heart palpitations. and it’s not because he’s distrustful, he just really values his privacy and keeping your relationship private felt like the right thing to do. thus, revealing it to the people presently sat in front him felt like a violation to his own peace of mind, but you both nodded and so it was out.

the response was nothing he could’ve expected. ever. because they looked… relieved? they actually looked quite happy. both of your managers had loosened a breath while the pr team had cracked tiny smiles or were trying very hard not to.

“what’s going on?” you said with a frown, having picked up on it too. chaewon gave a small laugh.

“well,” said the pr woman in a blue top. she picked up a black remote and pointed it at the beamer on the ceiling to turn it on. “recently, you two have been quite the talk on the internet. it seems that both of your fans think you hate each other. they’re actually pretty certain.”

and so, for the next twenty minutes jake and you were presented with a slideshow involving various headlines, articles, comments, posts, and video compilations from different social media platforms that had jake and you gasping in rotation.

“this one’s just dumb!” jake sputters, waving at the screen. “they’re saying i pushed her to the floor because she was dancing in her seat? why would i do that? she was sitting on the other side of the row, how could i have seen her!”

“maybe you sensed it and it really pissed you off.” you snort, holding up a folder filled with social media comments. “someone said i must despise your whole being because you’re introverted and i apparently have a personal vendetta against your people.”

“my people are your people! you’re an introvert too.” jake sounds desperate now. “where are they getting this from? all of these are so obviously a reach, come on.”

jake takes the folder out of your hands when he sees you giggling over a comment, prompting you to pout playfully. he pokes your side.

“you see…” jungwon speaks up, shaking his hair out of his eyes and clearly planning to beat around the bush. “is it though? not really. that obvious, i mean.”

chaewon hums in agreement. “i mean, i know you guys are in love, but there have been too many incidents that have caught people’s attention. it just can’t be a coincidence anymore, jake. the compilation is 30 minutes long, you know.” she looks at you and him carefully.

jake is beside himself. “you mean to tell me i pushed my girlfriend to the floor intentionally?”

“no, of course not,” says yuki with wide eyes, “we know you couldn’t hurt a fly if you wanted to, but, it’s just, well, how else did it happen? you mean to tell me y/n coincidentally fell against your arm when she walked past?”

“i’m just clumsy, guys.” you say quickly, moving your own chair closer to jake’s and bumping your legs against his in the process. “i was just walking down to my seat when he moved his arm because he was pointing at something. he didn’t even see me.”

“and when you were sitting on the floor right in front of him after the whole venue saw you fall, he also didn’t see you, right? him looking straight into your eyes and not moving a finger, so that a member from boynextdoor had to help you up also doesn’t have to mean anything, right?” grey sweater guy from pr chimes in, sounding amused and curious and very punchable (to jake, at least).

“yeah, what was that about?” jungwon says in a low voice as if everyone in the room had suddenly developed hearing issues.

“or when you went out of your way to pour champagne on her at the prada afterparty?” blue top woman adds unhelpfully.

your manager winces like it’s a traumatic experience that happened to him. “there was also that one time when fans saw you hiding all of the vogue covers with y/n on them behind a bunch of other magazines at a bookstore.”

“or when y/n handed you flowers on music bank when we won and you gave them back. on camera.” jungwon snickers.

“okay!” jake lets himself fall back against his chair, feeling absolutely defeated. “i can’t believe that’s how people perceived all of this. that’s…god, i don’t even know, but i can explain.”

“please do,” you say in a teasing tone, “because i am also starting to think you might actually secretly hate me.”

“what—” jake leans towards you abruptly, searching your eyes and you can’t help but laugh.

“i’m just joking.”

“get better jokes,” he grumbles, pouting, before letting out a long sigh when he sees everyone staring at him expectantly. “i don’t even know where to begin.”

“start with the magazines,” you say.

“oh, those...” he scratches the back of his head. “i was at a bookstore when i saw the covers on display and i just felt really proud, i mean you looked beautiful and it was a cool concept. so i took some pictures on my phone and when it suddenly changed to the front camera, i could see two girls looking at me from behind. i panicked and didn’t know what to do, so i quickly shoved the magazines behind some others hoping they didn’t see me take the photos.”

“they didn’t,” grey sweater guy confirms. “they only saw you hide them.”

jake nods. “yes, and at the prada afterparty, i just… i didn’t saw anyone filming us, so i thought it’d be safe to bring my girlfriend a drink. i was being subtle, but when i turned around, she was standing a lot closer than expected and i bumped into her. the whole drink just kind of spilled over and that’s when i saw the phones filming us.”

jake glances at you sheepishly, but you simply smile reassuringly, knowing that it was just an accident and he had apologised profusely that night. it was never that big of a deal to you anyway, knowing no one was mad that the dress had been ruined. reaching over under the table, you interlace your fingers with his and draw small circles on the back of his hand with your thumb, hoping it signals to him exactly that.

he goes on to say, “i also didn’t mean to push her at the AAA awards. it was all an accident and it happened so quickly that when i looked down and saw y/n there, i just froze. i couldn’t believe what had happened and also…” he clears his throat. “she just looked really pretty, like she was wearing that dress and her hair looked so—erm, yea, anyway. i malfunctioned.”

jungwon gives a small laugh, shoving jake’s shoulder as chaewon coos. you try to hide your grin when you see how red his ears are and fail miserably, but jake mirrors it, so you don’t feel too bad about it.

“and the flowers, oh my god, i don’t know why i did that.” jake groans like the memory still haunts him. “i just saw the bouquet and my brain went oh, flowers! i need to give them to y/n so i did. like an idiot. and i obviously couldn’t snatch them back when heeseung asked why i did that. it was embarrassing.”

the whole room erupts in laughter and you lay your head on his shoulder, saying, “it was cute.”

jake grunts something incoherent, but wraps an arm around your waist anyway, pulling you closer.

“you know,” the higher executive finally speaks up, still laughing. “it’s extremely relieving that you two don’t hat each other because your fans were really turning this into a battlefield. this, however, is much easier to manage knowing you are both willing to cooperate.”

jake and you exchange a look. “what do you mean cooperate?”

“cooperate in what?” you add on.

the pr team pulls out another stack of folders, each of them tabbed and colour coordinated. “we have a plan.”

grey sweater guy starts another presentation, revealing the first slide which says in bold, capital letters OPERATION: NO HATE, JUST DATE.

your jaw hits the floor. jake inhales sharply and says under his breath, “no way.”

next to him, jungwon grins, enjoying himself a little too much.

“this will be so much fun, guys!”

[ second part › operation: no hate, just date ]

[sparklingchim]

game on | jjk

pairing: jungkook x oc

word count: 2.2k

tropes: footballer!jungkook, fake dating, f2l

rating: pg

warnings: koo gets scolded for sleeping around 🥺, playboy jk <3, hints of a threesome 🫢, oc fights w a laundry machine

summary: jungkook is in desperate need to polish up his playboy image, and naturally, he turns to you for help.

a/n: hii my pretty besties!!!! it's my bday😋 so i wanted to share this silly piece i've been having so much fun writing!!! love uuu n treat urself to smth nice for me today <3 mwah😙

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

Jeon Jungkook is a charming man – and he is well aware of the fact. He plays that card effortlessly.

Most of the time, it works in his favour. Gets him what he wants, opens doors, soften blows.

But sometimes, it backfires. Spectacularly.

Which is why, right now, he’s standing in front of his fuming manager, who is radiating enough anger to fill the entire office.

The sight isn’t foreign to Jungkook. He wouldn’t say he is used to it, but he has found himself often enough in this situation to recognise the signs of deep trouble.

It’s not just Jungkook’s charm that’s making things complicated. It’s also the fact that he is famous.

He doesn’t flaunt it – never brags, never name-drops. That’s not his thing. But he’s not stupid either. His name (dare he say it) carries a bit of weight, and he’s learned how to use it. Quietly. Casually. Just enough to make things go his way.

Bending the world to his will... until the world pushes back.

And right now, it’s pushing back hard.

One thing Jeon Jungkook does enjoy about being a pro footballer, though, is the way women obsess over him.

He knows they love him – sees it in the comments they leave on his ig posts, sees it in the DMs flooding his inbox daily, and experiences it firsthand at public events, where hordes of fans scream his name. Jungkook thrives on that attention.

However, something he doesn’t love, and what he was never prepared for, is the media. The way they scrutinise his every move, how his face ends up on every headline anytime he does something remotely noteworthy.

And now, thanks to his latest shenanigan getting caught by the press, here he is. Getting chewed out by Taesung, his manager, while Jiwoo from PR watches with that tight-lipped expression that always means bad news.

Jungkook’s eyes are downcast, bracing himself for the scolding that’s already begun.

“You’ve gone too far this time, Jungkook.”

His manager speaks in a flat, monotonous voice, void of even the slightest hint of disappointment, as if he’d long since given up expecting anything different.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean up the mess you leave behind?”

A sense of guilt creeping up on Jungkook, even though he knows if he were just a regular guy, none of this would matter at all. And he finds it a bit unfair.

But to survive in this business, you can’t complain about unfairness.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” Taesung barks.

Jungkook remains silent. He forces himself to.

“If there was more involved than just alcohol-”

“No! Nothing like that,” he denies, his response firm and immediate. “It was just alcohol – and, well, just good vibes because we won the last match, and with the World Cup being next, everyone was just really excited.”

If he had known what kind of trouble a simple, innocent celebration of his team’s win at a club would bring, he would’ve gone straight home yesterday. He would’ve skipped the rounds of drinks, the flashing lights, the loud music, and definitely the attention. But hindsight was useless now.

“Good,” his manager says. “I’m glad you were happy.” Mock sympathy drips from his voice. “Perhaps the last time you are going to be happy this year.”

Jungkook nods, accepting the gravity of the situation. No more clubs, no more parties, no more girls.

At least, not for a while. His reputation had taken a few hits recently, and this latest mess wasn’t helping. He could almost hear the whispers: reckless, irresponsible, unprofessional. The kind of things that could ruin him if he didn’t get a handle on it.

He clenched his jaw. No more distractions. From now on, it was all about the game. He needed to remind everyone why he was Jeon Jungkook — the best on the field, not just the headlines.

“You’re no longer in for the World Cup. You’re out.”

His head snaps up at that. Did he hear that right?

“What?! What do you mean?”

“Myungbo doesn’t want you on the team anymore.” Taesung’s words sound heavy and final.

Jungkook’s heart pounds in his ears.

His world tilts. The room seems to spin, the edges of his vision darkening. This wasn’t just a setback — it was a disaster. The World Cup was everything to him, and now it felt like it was slipping through his fingers. The crushing weight of the news settles on his chest, making it hard to breathe. One silly night is all that happened.

He can’t believe that a single photo of him leaving the club with two girls clinging to each arm has cost him his spot on the national football team. He went home with two girls – so what?

But he doesn’t voice his frustration. He knows better than to add fuel to the fire. Speaking his mind now would only escalate the situation and make things worse. Jungkook knows from experience.

He swallows hard, forcing himself to stay calm. His pulse is still racing, but he takes a deep breath, focusing on controlling his emotions. He has to keep a level head if he’s going to find a way to fix this.

“There has to be a way to fix this.” His eyes move to Jiwoo, his PR agent. “Right?”

His manager fixes him with a stern glare. “Jungkook, remember the promise you gave everyone a few months ago?” Taesung reminds him.

Jungkook cringes. When he made a promise to avoid actions that might damage his reputation, he didn’t think it’d be that serious. He cut back on going out, made the effort to play the role of the “good boy” but really – come on. He can’t maintain that facade for an eternity. Especially after a triumphant victory like yesterday’s.

Taking away his spot on the national football team? He didn’t think that was possible.

“How many more times do we have to fix your problems, because you don’t care enough? How many times do we have to repeat this scenario?”

“I promise I’ll better myself,” Jungkook pleads desperately, looking back and forth between the two of them. Someone has to believe him, help him.

“Do you genuinely believe this country wants to be represented by a 20-year-old boy, who can’t keep his personal life under control?” Taesung asks, eyebrows deeply pinched together. “This isn’t just about you, Jungkook. It’s about the team, the fans, and the nation. They need a role model, not a scandal waiting to happen.”

“I know. I know.” Jungkook scrambles for something convincing to say, desperate to sway their decision. This can’t be it. He won’t let his career take a hit because of something like this. “But – but this isn’t too bad. This is fixable. I can fix this.” His voice quivers with a desperation he barely recognises as his own. “Jiwoo.” Jungkook turns to her with pleading eyes. “You always know what to do. Please, help me?”

“I did propose an idea but-”

“We’re not doing that,” Taesung cuts in. “It’s off the table.”

“What is it?” Jungkook’s eyes bounce back and forth between them. “I’ll do anything. This is – this is everything to me. You have to give me a chance.”

Taesung scoffs. “A chance? As far as I know, you have been given countless chances.”

Sweat coats the back of Jungkook’s neck.

Taesung understands just how much Jungkook has fought to secure his place on the national team. He’s well aware that it’s one of Jungkook’s greatest dreams, a pinnacle of his career that he’s poured countless hours of hard work and sacrifice into. That’s why, each morning, when he wakes up to the latest news of Jungkook’s escapades, he feels a deep sense of disappointment, texting Jungkook with a dejected shake of his head to visit his office first thing in the morning.

When it’s all he wants, like Jungkook claims, why doesn’t he act like it?

“If the head coach won’t give me a chance now, he’ll never do. This is my last opportunity to change his mind, make him rethink. I need to at least try.”

Jiwoo looks at Taesung, waiting for his approval. He nods.

“Very simply put: you need a girlfriend,” she says.

For a second, Jungkook is at loss for words.

“A girlfriend? How’s that going to help?” Jungkook tilts his head in confusion. This is not how he thought Jiwoo was going to save him.

“You need a girlfriend to help polish up your image as a player. It’ll make you appear more like a gentleman, softer and nicer. We need to completely shift public perception and counter the negative image they’ve formed about you. It’s all about changing the narrative,” she explains.

“And that is not something we can easily achieve,” Taesung interjects. “Rebranding your entire persona is not feasible at this stage. You’ve been projecting what kind of boy you are to the media for the past two years. It’s going to be incredibly difficult to make a sudden shift look genuine.”

“No! We — I can make it seem real. This is my only chance,” Jungkook insists, his voice gaining a hint of determination. For a moment, breathing feels a bit easier again. “The World Cup is just two months away. That’s enough time to shift public opinion and prove I’m worthy of representing the country on the team.” There’s a hopeful lilt in his voice as he speaks, clinging to the belief that he might not have to bid farewell to his biggest dream after all.

But Taesung doesn’t look as hopeful as Jungkook feels.

“How are we going to find a girl who will agree to this? Someone who isn’t an obsessive fan, understands this is purely professional, and can keep quiet? You won’t be able to pull this off.”

“I was actually thinking-” Jiwoo starts, but she’s cut off.

Jungkook hesitates, glancing between them before speaking. “Actually... I think I already have someone in mind.” His voice is more measured now. “That’s not the issue.” Jungkook doesn’t need to think twice.

Taesung sighs while Jiwoo looks at Jungkook apologetically.

“You can’t rebrand your entire persona from a playboy to a lover boy within a month, Jungkook. This is over.” His manager shakes his head, a sense of finality glimmering in his eyes.

One thing that Jungkook forgot to mention is that he is an extremely competitive man, too.

~

“This is ridiculous.”

You kick the laundry machine in frustration, but all you end up doing is yelping and clutching your aching foot.

“That’s the third time this month,” you mutter under your breath. “What did I even spend all that money on if it’s just going to break down whenever it feels like it?”

You shoot a death glare at the machine, teetering on the edge of losing your mind.

“Guess I’ll have to use the public laundromat again,” you sigh, grabbing the overflowing laundry basket filled with your and your roommate's clothes, and heading out of the bathroom with a huff.

On your way to the front door, the doorbell rings.

Please, you think. You were hoping for some quiet, uninterrupted time to deep-clean your dorm on this peaceful Sunday with no one around.

But when you peek through the peephole and see Jungkook standing there, your frustration melts away. You swing the door open, the laundry basket tumbling to the floor beside you in your haste.

“Jungkook!” you exclaim. “You’re timing is perfect! Can you please fix my laundry machine again? It’s been acting up, and I’m getting frustrated.” You groan annoyed.

Jungkook doesn’t share the same excitement upon seeing you.

You grow smaller and take an indecisive step back.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, noticing the tension in his features. “Did you lose the match yesterday? I couldn’t keep up because I had too much cramming to do last night.”

While studying medicine had always been your dream, the reality is less exciting. Right now, it means sleepless nights and relentless pressure. You know that pursuing this path will offer you many privileges later in life, but you have to suffer first.

“I need your help.”

His dark eyes, usually bright and full of energy, seem clouded with worry, and his hair falls messily over his forehead, like he’s run his hands through it a hundred times in frustration.

“Are you okay?” You study him closely, scanning his face for any signs of injury. Physically, he seems fine — still tall, muscular, and as fit as ever. But something is clearly off.

“You need to do something for me.”

“I can help,” you reply, your voice soft with concern. ‘But what is it…?”

“Don’t call me crazy for it.”

“Just tell me.”

“Can you be my girlfriend?”

You blink, repeatedly.

“Huh?”

You start giggling when he doesn’t add more. You expect him to clarify or laugh along, but Jungkook stays serious, stepping closer and gently taking your hands in his. You look down at them, then back up at his face, utterly bewildered.

“You’re silly, Jungkook. If someone on the team made you do this, tell them you did the punishment and quit acting so weird.”

It’s too early in the morning for Jungkook’s nonsense.

“No, ___, you don’t understand.” He squeezes your hands when he feels you trying to pull them back. “I actually need you to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Fake date me.”

[screamlet]

fic: road to nowhere (8x18 spec)

buck and tommy trapped under some concrete and dreaming of other places. 1.2k.

---

Tommy came to rescue them, Buck and Ravi, about an hour ago. That's about as long as Tommy and Buck have been trapped under a concrete slab that collapsed on Ravi's way out.

"Help is on the way," Ravi called through the gaps letting them breathe.

"Are they actually gonna be any help, though," Buck wonders, and realizes he said it out loud.

"I can't believe you'd doubt them over a little building collapse," Tommy says, wheezing more than Buck likes to hear. "That's your team, they've got your back."

Buck's smiling to himself and, for some reason, that catches Tommy's attention.

"Don't they?"

"Everyone deals with grief differently," Buck says.

There's a beat, then Tommy says, "Fuck them. Whatever they did. Or haven't done."

Buck shakes his head. "It's fine, I'm just." And he doesn't have a way to end that sentence. "Ignore me, okay? I'm—I'm being a snitch."

"A snitch? What are you, 12?" Buck smiles to himself again, and Tommy grumbles. "Never thought I'd see the day when I hated to see you smile."

Buck glances at him. "You hate it?"

Tommy's being too honest for how not-hurt he claims to be. "Those smiles don't reach your eyes." He didn't think Tommy would notice. "What are you thinking about? What are you gonna do when you get out of here?"

"We." Buck sends him the most threatening look he can manage.

Tommy acquiesces. "When we get out of here," he repeats.

"I'm thinking of going on a road trip, actually," Buck says. "Getting out of LA for a while. I've got the PTO for it and even if I don't—"

"You'd leave? The 118?"

"I need some space," Buck says slowly. "And Eddie got a job offer in El Paso, but he's thinking of not taking it and moving back, so I'd have to give up the house."

"Uh, no you wouldn't."

Buck makes a face. "Tommy, I'm not gonna let Chris be homeless."

"Do you think firefighter and former Army medic Eddie Diaz, a tax-paying adult with a child, is incapable of fucking apartment hunting?"

"Look, it just makes sense," Buck says.

"It doesn't, but keep talking." Tommy stifles a wince. "The rage will keep me from going into the light."

"It's all lining up, Tommy, honestly," Buck says. "They can take the place off my hands and I can do what I did when I dropped out of college: get in my Jeep and go see the country again."

"What do you mean again?"

Buck smiles at him; it looks like Tommy still hates it. "I got kicked out of college, then out of community college, then Maddie gave me some cash and her Jeep and I ran away from home. Well, I was like, 21, I don't think you can run away from home at that age."

"I don't think there's a statute of limitations on running away from home," Tommy says dryly. "As long as you have a home. Which you do."

Buck looks away, bites the inside of his lower lip. "I did. I don't know if it made it out of the lab, though. I think Bobby took it with him."

Buck whips his head around when Tommy doesn't respond. He's awake, though, but staring at Buck with his lips in a fine, frustrated line. "If losing Bobby means losing your home—losing them—then I don't think you really had it after all."

"Don't say that," Buck says softly. Tommy looks away. Agree to disagree.

"I haven't seen the Milky Way in like, 10 years," Buck says. "I should fix that."

"You think it's changed much?"

"I'm sure it has, even if we can't see the changes. Earth is moving, our solar system is moving, space is moving—"

"Is it?"

"Well, it's expanding, as far as we know," Buck says. "Maybe it doesn't look any different but—but I'm different. So."

Tommy's quiet, then says, "It's been 20 for me. Years. Since I've seen the Milky Way. I'm outdoorsy, but I don't get out to those really remote areas. Haven't for a while."

"It sounds like a good idea, right?"

"It does." Tommy clears his throat, shifts as much as he can under the rubble. "You're going alone, huh?"

"Yeah," Buck says, then pauses so he can look at Tommy. "I—I was planning on it."

Now Tommy smiles, a small thing that lights up the darkness in Buck. "No room for a co-pilot? Someone with awesome taste in music who can help out with the driving sometimes? If—" Tommy motions to the slab. "Provided I've still got a body and everything."

Buck feels sharp pinpricks behind his eyes, at the edges, emotion swelling in his throat. "I keep thinking: this isn't it. This—is this what I wanted? I'd have a home, but I could never leave again?"

"From a homeowner's perspective," Tommy says, always making him laugh. "It's not much of a home if it crumbles the moment you step outside. You can't be the only thing holding it together." He hesitates. "Bobby couldn't be the only thing holding it together."

"Yeah," Buck agrees. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"What are you running from?" Buck knows his smile is too mean, too slick. "If not me, I mean."

Tommy makes a little ha fucking ha face at him, nose crinkling because he can't help being amused. "I wouldn't be running. I'd be coming with you."

"Oh."

"If you wanted the company," Tommy repeats. "Gas money, too. Gas gets expensive."

"Why now?" Buck looks down at his hands. "What's changed? Besides I said something really shitty to you and—and I didn't get to apologize."

"I know you didn't mean it," Tommy says. "And I didn't mean to leave."

"So you want to test out your staying power by trapping yourself in a Jeep with me?"

"Yes, Evan, that's exactly it. You saw right through me."

"Around you," Buck says. "I've gotta shift a little to see past the slab that's gonna suffocate us."

"So it's all hypothetical anyway," Tommy replies.

Buck wonders if Ravi's eavesdropping or if maybe they've been left to die, buried alive. Maybe they're not worth the effort. That sucks; Buck would think Tommy was worth the effort, at least. He has a pilot's license and the people at Harbor probably like him a lot more than the 118 likes Buck right now. In any case: it's quiet and the glimmer of a road trip, taking a breath outside the city limits, feels like it's slipping away.

"Think we're running out of oxygen," Buck comments. "I'm kinda losing the will to live? Is that science? Less oxygen, more hopelessness?"

"Evan," Tommy sighs. "We're gonna get out of here, and then we're gonna get out of here."

Buck takes the hand Tommy reaches out. He's not sure either of them believe that, or each other, or that they'll go anywhere together or apart, or that things will get better but—but for now they can keep each other awake, thinking of other ways and places to be.

[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.

[cocastyle]

I See You Pt. 3

Pairing — Bob Reynolds x reader

Word Count — 5.5k

Warning — SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE I REPEAT SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE!!

A/N — I can’t thank you all enough for the love on this series. It literally means the world to me and because of that I want to apologize for how sad this part is going to be. BUT I promise the fourth and final part is going to be good, so you just have to hold out until then ahah.

Please let me know if you all have any requests for the Thunderbolts* or any other Marvel movie really. I’m on such a Marvel kick right now that my inbox is open for requests :))

Part One Part Two Part Three

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE THUNDERBOLTS* MOVIE! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

Breaking out of the void was disorienting to say the least. Y/N almost wasn't sure where she was, her mind barely processing that she had gone from seeing Bob in front of her to suddenly being back in her living room within the span of a second.

The tv hummed in front of her, some show playing low enough that she couldn't hear the voices but loud enough that there was still noise. Y/N blinked and glanced down at her hand which was gripping onto a bottle of vodka. She had been moments away from opening it when the darkness had surrounded her and the distant memory of how empty she had felt made her heart ache.

She stared at the bottle colder, Void's words whispering in her ear, "Y/N L/N. The one who got half the universe killed and then tried to find herself at the bottom of a bottle."

Her eyes stung as she realized how right his words had been. Swallowing thickly, she hesitantly reached out and placed it down on the table in front of her. Her fingers trembled as she let it go, her old habits screaming at her to do the only thing she knew how to do now that she was alone once more.

But this wasn't like before. The void had changed her. Bob had changed her.

I'll find you, she had told the boy before everything had disappeared. But how?

Her phone let out a loud ding in that moment and after grudgingly throwing her pillows on the couch around in an attempt to find it, her hands latched onto the small device and flipped it over to see a notification from one of the local news channels.

BREAKING NEWS

NEW AVENGERS SAVE MANHATTAN

The girl was opening her phone in an instant, her fingers rapidly swiping through screens before she was grabbing onto the remote to the TV to change the channel to the current press release that was going on outside of Avengers Tower.

And there he was, standing next to everyone else who had been there when they defeated Void. Valentina de Fontaine stood at a podium, a huge smile on her face as she glanced at her assistant before turning to the crowd.

"For years I've been working in secret to develop a new era of protection. Today, the citizens of the United States needed that protection, and thanks to my hard work, they got it. Ladies and gentlemen, meet the new Avengers."

On the screen, there was visible confusion from almost half the team while Bob was clapping his hands for his friends and still not realizing he was apart of this new group. Y/N would never see what came next because she was out the door before Valentina had even finished speaking.

Her heart was beating frantically in her chest and she scrambled to lock the door behind her. She had just managed to get her keys into her pocket and had barely turned around completely when she was bumping into her neighbor who had just stumbled out the door looking just as crazed as she did.

Y/N took a step back in surprise, her eyes flickering over the man in front of her as she let out a rushed, "Sorry, Matt. I wasn't looking where I was going."

Matt Murdock gave her a weak smile, his hand reaching up to adjust his glasses as he stared in the direction of the sound of her voice. "No, no, that's my bad. I was in a rush and was too distracted by what had—" he hesitated slightly, his head titling to the side before he asked. "It happened to you too, huh? Whatever that... void was?"

Y/N stilled slightly and nodded before realizing that was stupid because Matt was a blind man. "Yeah," she quickly recovered, her voice soft despite the utter anxiety she was feeling each moment she wasn't with Bob.

She really hoped he remembered her. She wouldn't know what she would do if he didn't.

"You okay?" Matt asked, his shoulders relaxing a bit and some of the strain in his voice leaving as he frowned towards her. "It might just be everything that happened but you seem a little anxious."

Y/N never understood how he did that. She had been neighbors with him for a little while now, the man having moved in beside her after an "incident" with his last apartment had left it a mess. Ever since the day she had met him it was like he could read into her more than she thought was possible. If she didn't know any better, she would've guessed he wasn't blind. But that was crazy and she did know better.

"I'm fine," she insisted, but the hurriedness of the answer made Matt raise an eyebrow.

"Okay," Matt said gently, thankfully not pressing further. "I was about to go down to Josie's after...well, everything. You want to join?"

"I thought Josie's was closed?"

Matt flashed her a smile that she knew melted many hearts, "Let's just say I know the owner."

Y/N hesitated slightly at the offer, surprised that he had even attempted to be there for her after she had clearly shut him down. After everything that had just happened, she knew that under any other circumstance she probably would've said yes. But all she could think about was Bob and the fact that she knew where he was. If she waited any longer, there was no telling where he would be or when she would find him next.

"I'm sorry," she said, letting out a soft sigh. "I...I have somewhere I need to be." She braced herself for the disappointment that Matt was sure to show, but the man simply gave her a soft smile and a nod.

"Some other time then?" he suggested.

Y/N swallowed thickly at those words, tears pricking her eyes for just a second as she realized that she truly had been pushing everyone away for so long that even a small gesture like Matt's was enough to get to her.

"Some other time."

- - -

The press release went on for a while. After all, everyone wanted a chance to speak to these "New Avengers" and learn everything that they could. It wasn't until about halfway through the questions when one had been directed at Bob and inquired into what his powers were that Bob finally realized that he was also an Avenger.

That thought alone had made him almost short circuit and Yelena had thankfully brushed off the question and directed the interviewers to start wrapping everything up while Bucky gently pulled Bob off to the side as the boy attempted to process it all.

"How?" Bob asked, his eyes locking with Bucky who was still giving him that confused look that the whole team had been giving him ever since the blank in his mind had finished.

"How what?" Bucky asked.

"How am I an Avenger? What did I even do?" Bob asked, getting more confused by the second.

"You really don't remember, do you?" Bucky raised an eyebrow and Bob shook his head. The man let out a soft sigh and just pat his shoulder with his metal hand making the boy wince slightly. "It's a long story, buddy. Let's get through this and then I can explain it all to you, okay?"

Bob numbly nodded and Bucky left his side to go help Yelena control the crowd and Alexei who had gotten over his shock and was pushing for more questions to be asked.

The boy merely watched them from the sidelines, still trying to piece together all that had happened long after the crowd had dispersed.

Just when Bob was about to go back to Bucky and start questioning him again, he felt a small pull on his heart that had him stopping in his tracks. His hand slowly reached up to rest against his chest, his eyebrows furrowing as he felt that small tug again that seemed to be pulling him back the way he had just come.

There was something familiar about this feeling. Something like—

Bob slowly turned around, his eyes instantly locking on a girl who stood a little ways away. She had frozen mid step, her gaze solely on him while her mouth dropped open slightly in surprise.

He barely had time to register what was happening before she was running towards him, her body slamming into his as she pulled him into a fierce hug. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she held onto him tightly as she whispered through a small laugh, "I found you."

Bob blinked in surprise, his eyes frantically searching around him before locking onto the others who had all stopped short in their conversations upon seeing what was in front of them. Bucky instantly broke off from the group, his strides hurried, but the girl was already pulling away to look at Bob again.

The smile on her face made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks reddened as she reached up to place her hand on his cheek as she asked, "Are you okay? You didn't get hurt, did you?" Her hand fell away as she began to scan him for injuries. "I was lucky enough to still be on my couch, but I wasn't sure where you would end up. You seem to be fine though, so that's good."

She let out a shaky breath and shook her head slightly as she turned her gaze up to him in amusement. "Sorry, I'm rambling. I was just afraid I wouldn't see you again and after—" she paused as she finally took note of Bob's wide eyed gaze. "What's wrong?"

Bob's mouth opened and closed a couple of times while he tried to figure out what was going on, but after a moment of silence that only made her smile disappear more and more by the second, he knew she had connected the dots.

"You...you don't remember me, do you?" she asked, but before Bob could answer, Bucky had reached them and was quickly pulling the girl away. Bob didn't know why he did it, but he subconsciously reached out for her, his hand briefly brushing against her own before Yelena was gently pulling him away in the opposite direction.

"Who is that?" Bob asked, craning his head to watch the girl even as Yelena pulled him away and back over to the others. When he got no response, he turned to look at his friends who all seemed to be trying to come up with an answer. Their eyes all flickered to Yelena who glared back in response before looking to Bob with a sort of gentleness that made him take a small step back.

"I forgot her, didn't I? She was a part of the blank," he said and Yelena let out a small sigh and nodded. Bob gritted his teeth, his gaze falling back on the girl who was talking to Bucky a little ways away. There were tears in her eyes as she argued with the man and she shook her head in disbelief, taking a step back as Bucky reached for her. The sight was enough to make his heart ache.

The girl looked his way, their eyes locking. He felt a gentle caress around his mind and he didn't know how he knew it, but he knew that it was Y/N doing it. Her eyes searched his own, a sadness seeping into them as she failed to find whatever she was looking for. The look she gave him was one he knew he would never forget. That look of realization that you had lost someone you hadn't even realized you had a chance of losing.

A look of heartbreak.

She shook her head slightly as Bucky said something to her and frantically wiped her tears away before spinning on her heels and walking away.

Bob was rushing forward before he could stop himself, but she was gone before he had even reached Bucky.

"Who was that?" Bob asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky turned to him and gave the boy a sad smile as he said, "Y/N."

Y/N...

The name sounded so familiar to him yet so foreign at the same time. The way his heart skipped a beat told him that he knew her, but he couldn't recall a single memory with the girl.

Bucky watched him for a moment before looking in the direction Y/N had gone, his voice soft as he muttered, "Don’t worry. She'll be back."

Bob couldn't tell who that was supposed to reassure more, but he really hoped Bucky was right.

Come back. Please don’t leave.

- - -

FOUR WEEKS LATER. . .

Y/N was quiet from her spot on the ground, her fingers mindlessly twisting blades of grass while her eyes stared blankly at the stone in front of her.

MAY PARKER

WHEN YOU HELP SOMEONE,

YOU HELP EVERYONE

Her heart squeezed in her chest every time she reread the words, but she continued to read them over and over like some sort of mantra. She was hoping they would help her, that being here would make it feel like she had May with her once again.

All she wanted was for the woman to hold her in her arms and tell her that everything was going to be okay. May would know what to say to her to stop this downward spiral she had been in since she left Bob standing there in the aftermath of the Void. May would’ve told her what to do and could’ve helped her understand why she was feeling everything so much worse than she had expected to.

Why looking Bob in the eye and feeling that blank in his mind where she should’ve been made her feel like she was losing someone all over again. She barely knew Bob, she kept reminding herself. She had only known him for a couple hours after all. So why did this feel so familiar?

Why did she feel like she was losing someone who meant something to her all over again?

Her heart ached in a way that reminded her of what she had felt briefly in the void. She couldn’t remember what Void had shown her in that black room, the memory nothing but a blurred image in her head, but she remembered that feeling and that was exactly what she was feeling now.

She shouldn’t have left Bob the way that she did. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember. Yet something about knowing that she had lost the part of him that she had connected with had scared her so much that she hadn’t known what to except to run. All she ever did was screw everything up anyways. Bob was better off without her.

But the way he had looked at her. . .

Y/N quickly shook those thoughts away. None of this should have mattered so much. She had never been good with people. Not since before the Blip anyways.

Bob not remembering her was just her way out of a situation she hadn’t realized she needed out of. Or at least that’s what she had been trying to convince herself for four weeks now especially whenever she felt that familiar tug calling out to him.

It was always that tug.

“I wish you were here,” Y/N whispered to the grave, her voice cracking slightly as tears pricked her eyes. Her fingers numbly pulled a blade of grass from the ground and she closed her eyes, overcome with grief for so many different reasons.

The soft shuffling of shoes along the grass was the thing that finally pulled her from her thoughts and she briefly glanced up to see a boy a couple years younger than herself come to a stop before the grave. He knelt down quietly beside her, his hands reaching out to gently set down a bouquet of white flowers amongst the others.

Y/N watched him for a moment, her eyes flickering over his face in slight confusion for she swore she knew him from somewhere before she turned and looked back at the grave. The two were silent for a long time before his voice finally filled the air.

“Did you know her?”

Something scratched at the back of her mind at the sound of his voice, but it was gone before she could think too much into it. “Yeah,” she whispered. “I don’t quite remember how we met cause it was so long ago, but she. . .she meant a lot to me.” She glanced towards the boy, his eyes flickering up to lock with her own. “I’m assuming you knew her too?”

He gave her a sad smile before muttering in a strained voice, “Yeah. She used to watch me some when I was a kid.”

Y/N hummed and gave a nod as she looked back at the grave. A comfortable silence fell between the two as they both obviously thought back to their time with May.

“I was there when it happened,” Y/N whispered. She hadn’t meant to tell him, but something about the boy had her telling him before she even knew she was going to. He sat up at that and glanced her way in soft surprise, but she refused to meet his gaze. She hesitated slightly, plucking another blade of grass from the ground. “I could’ve saved her.”

The boy was quiet for a moment before he finally asked, “Y-You were there?”

“Yeah, I—“ Y/N hesitated slightly, a small frown appearing on her face before she shook her head and let out a sigh. “Sorry, I get these blanks in my memory sometimes. Kind of like someone took a sponge to half of my brain and scrubbed it clean. I don’t exactly remember the details of what happened but there was a fight and. . .and all I remember is this feeling of guilt. This feeling of knowing that I could’ve done something to stop her from dying, but I didn’t. I might’ve been too slow to react? I can’t exactly remember, but the guilt, that’s still there. It might be the reason for the blanks if I’m being completely honest.”

The boy deflated a little at her words, his gaze dropping as he said, “If you don’t remember, then how do you know you did something wrong? Maybe someone else was to blame?”

“When have I not done something wrong?” she scoffed. “I always manage to ruin everything, this would be no different. I guess that’s why I’m all alone. All I do is push everyone away and ruin everything that I touch.”

“That’s not true—“ the boy began, but Y/N was already cutting him off, the words spilling out of her now that she had already started.

“No, it is. And I’m doing it again,” she sighed and closed her eyes tightly as she bowed her head. Her thoughts drifted to Bob and she felt the tears prick her eyes once again. “There’s this guy and he might be the first person who has ever understood me more than I understand myself and now that’s it getting real, now that it’s getting hard, I’m ruining everything all over again and running away just because I’m scared of losing him like I have everyone else in my life.”

She shifted her weight so that her knees were now in front of her and tucked close to her body, her forehead resting against her knees while her lip trembled. She did her best to try and steady her breath, not wanting to cry in front of this boy she had only just met, but that’s when another memory of Bob filled her head.

She could practically feel the phantom touch of his lips brushing against her ear and the way his breath had been shaky as he whispered to her, “I would’ve liked to be your friend.”

Y/N sniffled at that and opened her eyes, letting a couple of tears fall as she stared at the grave in front of her. The boy didn’t speak as he sat beside her and she honestly expected him to leave after she dumped all of that onto him, but he simply sat there, contemplating her words.

“There was this girl that I knew,” he finally said and her tear filled eyes flickered his way but he was staring down at the ground in full concentration as though this story he was about to tell was too painful to even think about. “We. . .we grew up together and one thing led to another and we eventually started dating. She was my best friend and knew me in ways no one else did.”

“I loved her with everything I had,” he admitted, a sad smile on his face as tears began to fill his eyes. “But then the Blip happened and I disappeared while she got left behind. By the time I came back, she was five years older and everything had changed too much. We couldn’t be together anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but the boy merely shrugged.

“It didn’t stop me from loving her,” he told her. “I think I’ll always love her…even in those moments where she doesn’t love herself.”

Y/N wiped away her tears, her gaze now locked onto the boy and not pulling away. “What happened to you guys?” she asked.

“Our relationship changed,” he answered. “She was still my best friend, but things were different. We actually ended up growing closer in the ways that mattered. She helped me after I lost some people I cared about even though she was dealing with her own problems and her own grief in the process. I wouldn’t have gotten through it all without having her there, without having someone who saw me and was there to remind me that I didn’t have to be alone just because I had lost some people and made some mistakes. She actually even helped me find a new girlfriend in the process funnily enough.”

“And where is she now?”

The boy hesitated at those words and for the first time during his whole story, he finally looked her way. His eyes locked with her own and he was quiet as he stared at her. It was only when he hadn’t responded for a moment too long that she felt her powers start to reach out for him. She hadn’t used them the whole time they had been talking, but she couldn’t help it in that moment.

But right when her powers were just beginning to touch the outskirts of his mind, the boy whispered, “You kind of remind me of her.”

Y/N froze at those words, her powers instantly pulling away as she stared at the boy in surprise. For a brief second, there was a flicker in the back of her mind, but it was gone faster than it appeared and already long forgotten by the girl.

The boy looked back at the grave, his face full of contemplation before he finally said, “I think if May were still around, she wouldn’t want you to give up on this friend of yours. I think she’d want you to be happy. You’re the type of person who deserves it.”

Tears filled her eyes as she watched the boy and she swallowed thickly before muttering, “You think?”

“I do.”

Y/N smiled at that, her voice a bit shaky as she said, “Thank you.”

The boy let his own smile cross his face at her words and she almost missed the way he quickly wiped at his eyes to get rid of some tears that had escaped as he pulled himself onto his feet.

“I should get going,” he said, his gaze falling back on the girl once more. He stared at her for a moment as though he were trying to memorize what she looked like before his smile softened. “Yeah, I think you’re going to be just fine.”

Y/N blinked at those words, her mouth dropping open as she failed to find the right words to say, but the boy had already turned on his heels to start walking out of the graveyard. He held a hand up in the air in farewell, his voice calling out to her as he left, “I'll see you around, Y/N."

"Wait, I didn't get your name!” she called after him, but the boy was already gone.

It wouldn't be until later that she realized the boy had called her by her name, but she had never given to him in the first place.

- - -

You would think after defeating your inner darkness and finally finding friends that had turned into family that he would've been better or at least on the road to being better, but that wasn't the case for Bob. Something was missing. Something so pivotal that he felt that absence in his heart, an emptiness different from what he had felt before the events that had taken place in Manhattan weeks prior.

Bob wasn't himself and this emptiness he felt? It all had to do with Y/N.

Bob didn't know what it meant or why he felt this way. He still had no recollection of what had transpired the day Void had taken over and he had met Y/N for the first time. All he had were the words of his friends who had gently explained everything to him after Y/N had disappeared that day and this feeling like something was pulling at his heart, desperately wishing he would remember.

And he did want to remember. He really did.

The guilt was practically turning into agony at this point especially since Y/N had failed to show up after finding out that he had forgotten everything that had happened between them. That look on her face was still permanently engraved in his mind. That utter sadness that had flickered through her eyes still making his throat constrict in that way it always did right before he felt the urge to cry.

He had tried to find her at first. He had done everything really. It had gotten to the point where even the others had all stepped in to try and help, but she still reminded no where to be seen.

Bob had been asking Bucky every day if there were any updates, but the man always gave him that same sad smile and placed a hand on his shoulder in comfort as he whispered, "Sorry, buddy."

"Y/N has a way of being able to stay hidden when she wants to be," Yelena had told him one day when the two had been sitting on the balcony staring out at the city below. "She won't be found unless she wants to be found."

That had been discouraging to say the least, but Bob still hadn't given up hope. "Just give her time," Bucky had told him and that's what Bob had been trying to do.

He kept himself as busy as he could, instead picking up reading once again, a hobby he hadn't invested time in since before his time in the trials. But his thoughts never failed to eventually drift to the topic of Y/N just as they had since the moment he laid eyes on her.

Even now his head was stuck in the clouds as he sat in one of the chairs of the living room of Avengers Tower. The team had all left to go pick up some shawarma from a place down the street that Bucky had told them his best friend and the former Captain America, Steve Rogers, had said was the best place to eat. They had invited Bob along, but he had declined and was now stuck spiraling into his own thoughts.

There was just something about Y/N that called to him, that made him want so desperately to remember that he would spend hours just sitting and trying his very hardest to remember even the smallest detail from that day.

Bob let out a small frustrated sigh as he ran a hand through his hair to push it away from his eyes. He was just about to start another futile attempt at reading when a beep from the tablet on the table filled the air signaling that someone was at the front door.

Frowning, Bob reached forward to grab the tablet, clicking a couple of buttons like Yelena had showed him in order to get a glimpse at who was there.

The breath practically left his lungs at the sight, his body promptly falling off the chair in surprise before he was scrambling to his feet and running towards the elevator, his book and tablet long forgotten. He was at the front door in an instant, his hand shakily wrapping around the door handle before he pulled it open to reveal Y/N L/N standing there with her hand raised to knock again.

Y/N stilled as the door flew open and her eyes widened slightly as she stared at Bob, the two both not saying anything as they simply stared at each other in shock.

Bob's eyes quickly scanned the girl, desperately trying to piece together if this was a dream or the real thing. After a moment of reassuring himself that this was in fact real, he let out a shaky breath.

He was unable to speak, but the thought flashed through his mind regardless, You found me.

I'll always find you, her voice replied, but it sounded distant like a memory whispering to him and reminding him that she had found him before and would find him time and time again.

"Hi," she finally whispered, her voice coming out shaky. He could tell she was preparing herself for rejection, for the knowledge that he had no clue who she was and probably would never remember. He should say something. But she was here and she was here for him and that was all Bob could focus on.

"H-Hi," he stuttered out.

Her eyes flickered over his face and she gave him a small, unsure smile as she said, "I'm Y/N."

"Bob," he replied, still shocked by the fact that she was standing before him.

"I know," she said before groaning slightly at her words and shaking her head. "I mean. . .Sorry, this is hard."

Bob relaxed at those words, offering her a sad smile as he said, "I know. The team. . .they told me about what happened. I'm sorry I can't remember."

Y/N looked down at that, her breath shaky as she stuffed her hands further into her jacket pockets.

"I want to remember," Bob rushed out, wanting nothing more than for her to look back up at him. The confession was enough to do just that and before he knew it, their eyes were locking once more.

She stared at him in silence before finally whispering, "Maybe we can try to help you remember." She paused for a brief second before adding, "Together."

Bob stilled at that, something flickering in the back of his head, an image of Y/N standing before him just like this as those same words had passed between them.

"Together," he muttered, his eyes squinting slightly in confusion as he tried to grasp onto that wisp of a memory. He smiled softly and let his gaze fall on the girl once more. "As long as you're okay being friends with the guy who does nothing but screw everything up."

Bob might've not remembered anything, but that smile that appeared on Y/N's face even as tears pricked her eyes was the kind of smile that made him want to remember it all just so he could keep seeing her like that.

"I think I can manage that," she told him, reaching up to lightly wipe at her eyes before any tears could fall. Bob gave her a small smile in response before stepping out of the way so Y/N could step inside.

Their hands briefly brushed against one another as she passed and there was that tug again, the same one that had been pulling on him since he first saw her, the same one that was constantly pulling them into each other's orbit. And it was in that moment that Bob finally knew what it meant.

After all, the body remembers what the mind forgets.

I see you, he heard her whisper into his mind, her eyes flickering to lock with his as he closed the door and joined her by her side.

His shoulder brushed against her own and she pressed slightly into it, each of them being a steady presence for the other as they stared at each other and prepared to step into the unknown.

I see you too.

______________

Tag List:

@jsprien213 @leeleecats @bimboshaggy

[kxsagi]

Hello hello! I'm the menace who sent the sae x Shidou!reader req a while back! 😈

Part two pls but this time Shidou!reader got hired as bllk manager 👀 oh dear how will the bllk guys react with this menace lock in the same facility as them. Also also sae being grumpy that he has to get his dose of gf only through the bltv lmao

“𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐫”

a/n: LMAO I LOVE THIS ENERGY

“who the hell hired that?” 

“you mean the gremlin doing cartwheels across the field at 6 AM?” 

“the one who challenged shidou to a headbutting contest and won?” 

“the one who tried to pants kaiser during his interview?” 

ego turns from the control room with the slow, empty gaze of a man who has seen things. “yes.” 

you, the newest blue lock manager and certified agent of chaos, stretch on the turf like a track star hyped up on energy drinks and poor life choices. 

“ALRIGHT, LOSERS!” you grin, twirling a clipboard like a baton. “i’ve been hired to manage you psychos into proper, functioning humans! we’re gonna clean! we’re gonna hydrate! we’re gonna team build until someone snaps!” 

bachira is already on board. “do we get to play dodgeball with fireballs?” 

“hell yeah, fire safety is for cowards!” 

rin looks ready to walk into traffic. kaiser’s trauma has been reactivated. karasu actually claps. “finally, someone with vision.” 

“if you touch my ass again, i will kill you,” kaiser mutters, inching away. 

you grin. “no promises, blondie.” 

cut to blue lock TV, aka BLTV, where the nation watches weekly updates of japan’s hottest soccer chaos factory. 

currently, the screen displays you standing on a bench, yelling through a megaphone: “WHOEVER STOLE MY PINK GATORADE, YOU HAVE 10 MINUTES TO RETURN IT OR I’M HIDING SARDINES IN YOUR SHIN GUARDS.” 

in madrid, sae itoshi is slouched on the couch, jaw clenched, remote in a death grip. 

“... i miss her,” he mutters like a war widow. 

his teammates glance over. 

“you mean your girlfriend who just tried to fight don lorenzo for doing pushups in her ‘zone’?” 

“she’s not even looking at the camera,” sae hisses. “i can’t even get eye contact. all i get is BLTV crumbs.” 

on the screen, you lock eyes with the nearest camera, smirk, and blow a kiss. 

“that one was for my sexy red-haired husband in madrid,” you say cheerfully before throwing a shoe at isagi. 

sae flinches like he got hit. “she’s so hot. gosh, i hate this.” 

back at blue lock, shidou tries to bite you again. 

“do it and i’m putting you on litter box duty.” 

“worth it,” he purrs. 

rin has locked himself in the weight room. reo and nagi are betting on who cries first this week. niko follows you around like a confused duckling. yukimiya offered you tea once and you barked at him. 

“who needs therapy when you can just... be her?” reo whispers. 

somewhere in the chaos, ego watches it all unfold and sighs. “perfect. just what blue lock needed.” 

a menace to tame the menaces. 

but sae, grumpily watching from afar, whispers into his phone: “just wait. i’m pulling up next week and taking you home. permanently.” 

he pauses as you get tackled by a squad of blue lock players mid-game and cackle like a villain. 

“… or i’ll just join the madness.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[puckinghischier]

Tentastrophe

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together

notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?

[5.1k]

You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.

You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.

Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.

Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.

You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”

“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.

“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.

Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.

“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.

“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.

Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.

When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.

You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.

You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.

You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.

As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.

Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.

Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.

After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.

Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.

The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.

Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.

No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.

You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.

That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.

The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.

You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.

Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?

Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.

Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.

You were in for a long week.

———————————————————————————

“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.

“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.

“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.

Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.

You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.

Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.

“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.

“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.

“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.

“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.

“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.

You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”

You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.

Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.

Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”

A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.

You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.

Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.

Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.

After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.

You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.

Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.

“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.

“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.

“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.

“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.

“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.

“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.

“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”

You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”

“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.

You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.

“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”

“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.

A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”

Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”

You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.

“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.

You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.

“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.

“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.

After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.

All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.

Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.

You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.

You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.

You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.

You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.

You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.

“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.

You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.

“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.

“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.

“Hi, Schatz.”

You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.

You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.

Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.

His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.

Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.

You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.

You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”

Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”

“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.

He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.

“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.

“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.

You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.

“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”

“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.

His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.

Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.

“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.

Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.

Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.

You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.

You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.

“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.

“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.

You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.

“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.

“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.

“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.

“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.

“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.

The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.

“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.

“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”

You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.

“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”

He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.

“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.

You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.

You burst into a fit of giggles.

You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.

Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.

You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.

You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.

Yeah, you hate camping.

[sekhithefops]

How to Kill Microsoft's AI "Helper" Copilot WITHOUT Screwing With Your Registry!

Hey guys, so as I'm sure a lot of us are aware, Microsoft pulled some dickery recently and forced some Abominable Intelligence onto our devices in the form of its "helper" program, Copilot. Something none of us wanted or asked for but Microsoft is gonna do anyways because I'm pretty sure someone there gets off on this.

Unfortunately, Microsoft offered no ways to opt out of the little bastard or turn it off (unless you're in the EU where EU Privacy Laws force them to do so.) For those of us in the United Corporations of America, we're stuck... or are we?

Today while perusing Bluesky, one of the many Twitter-likes that appeared after Musk began burning Twitter to the ground so he could dance in the ashes, I came across this post from a gentleman called Nash:

Intrigued, I decided to give this a go, and lo and behold it worked exactly as described!

We can't remove Copilot, Microsoft made sure that was riveted and soldered into place... but we can cripple it!

Simply put, Microsoft Edge. Normally Windows will prevent you from uninstalling Edge using the Add/Remove Programs function saying that it needs Edge to operate properly (it doesn't, its lying) but Geek Uninstaller overrules that and rips the sucker out regardless of what it says!

I uninstalled Edge using it, rebooted my PC, and lo and behold Copilot was sitting in the corner with blank eyes and drool running down it's cheeks, still there but dead to the world!

Now do bear in mind this will have a little knock on effect. Widgets also rely on Edge, so those will stop functioning as well.

Before:

After:

But I can still check the news and weather using an internet browser so its a small price to pay to be rid of Microsoft's spyware-masquerading-as-a-helper Copilot.

But yes, this is the link for Geek Uninstaller:

Run it, select "Force Uninstall" For anything that says "Edge," reboot your PC, and enjoy having a copy of Windows without Microsoft's intrusive trash! :D

UPDATE: I saw this on someone's tags and I felt I should say this as I work remotely too. If you have a computer you use for work, absolutely 100% make sure you consult with your management and/or your IT team BEFORE you do this. If they say don't do it, there's likely a reason.

[k-germsworld]

Meet and Greet

Eunha x M! Reader feat Sinb, Umji

4.3k words

Viviz's comeback is imminent, so Na.V has started pre-ordering a lot of albums just to be able to attend the fan meeting. Of course, I am no exception. I also try my best to buy their albums just to be able to attend the fan meeting. A week before Viviz's comeback, I received a package. In the package was the album I pre-ordered and a letter. There was a ticket for a fan meeting in the envelope, and it was also noted that no one else could know except me. The ticket said "Viviz Pre-Comeback Meet and Greet". It also had the venue and date and number "05" written on it. I held onto the ticket with some doubt until the day of the event. 

The Day

I went according to the location written on the ticket. Although the venue was a little remote, I went anyway. When I arrived at the venue, I found that I was not the only one who got the ticket. But there didn't seem to be many people at the venue, only about 10 to 15 people. We waited patiently on site until the appointed time. At the appointed time, the curtain of the stage slowly opened. Behind the slowly opening curtain, there were three large cubicles and a person who walked out and stood in the middle of the stage. 

“Welcome to Viviz Pre-Comeback Meet and Greet, Na.V. We have invited only a small number of people, hoping that you who are present can fully enjoy your time alone with Viviz. Without further ado, let me introduce today's procedures to you." In order to let us enjoy the show as quickly as possible, the host quickly got to the point and we listened to him carefully.

According to the host, we don't know who is in which cubicles. We can only rely on our own feelings to find the members we like. He also explained to us that this fan meeting is very different from other ones. So don't be surprised by what happens when you enter the cubicles and enjoy it. After you are done in the cubicles, then put your ticket in the raffle box, and the winner will get a very special benefit. Since there are 15 of us, to be fair, one cubicle can only queue for 5 people. First come, first served. “Na.V are you ready?” After listening to everything, the host asked us. “Yes!!” We answered loudly together. 

“3…..”

“2…..”

“1…..”

“Let’s Start!”

After the host finished counting down, we all chose the cubicles according to our feelings. Everyone wanted to choose their favourite member. Of course, I wanted to, but I liked all three of them so I had a hard time making the choice. I chose the cubicle on the left, and I happened to be the last person in the cubicle on the left. There is a manager standing next to each cubicle, so that he can instruct fans to enter, and then after the fan inside is done, he will instruct another fan to enter. Since there was no time limit and I was not sure how long I would have to wait, I looked around. I noticed that some of the fans who went in came out very quickly, but some took a long time to come out. But without exception, everyone had a very happy expression on their faces when they came out.  My queue wasn't very slow, but when other cubicles have already entered the second fans or the third fans and my team is still with the first fans. 

No matter how long I wait, it's worth it, as long as it's for Viviz. So I just have to wait more patiently. After about 30 minutes, it was finally my turn. The manager signalled that I could enter the cubicle. I entered the cubicle and found a bed inside. Eunha was sitting on the bed. I was very surprised by Eunha's look today. She was wearing a blue camisole and a black skirt. The dress perfectly brought out her cleavage, while the short skirt brought out her snow-white thighs. I was completely attracted by her beauty and didn't react until she started talking to me. "Hey, don't be nervous. You can sit next to me now. And show me your ticket." I showed her my ticket. She looked at it and smirked.  When I got the ticket, I noticed the "body part" section, and mine said "hands". But I still don't understand what this section can do in this meet and greet. "The benefit you drew is a hand. Do you know what it is used for?" I shook my head to indicate I don't know. "Just like this." After she finished speaking, she used her hand to stroke my cock through my pants. "Wait a minute, Eunha. What are you doing?" I was frightened by her sudden action. "This is the main reason for this fan meeting. Before the comeback, we all wanted to get the love of Na.V, so we proposed this fan meeting to the company. You don't need to feel guilty, you just need to enjoy it. The more cum you ejaculate, the greater support you give us." As she spoke, she took off my pants. "Your cock is neither too big nor too small. Although some of the guys' cocks are bigger than yours, I still like your size. I wanted to stop her, but I couldn't.  

Eunha wrapped her hand around my cock and stroked it slowly up and down.  “Oh fuck…. Eunha, your hands are so soft.” I said to her, "So, do you like it?" She smiled and asked me. I could only nod because it felt so good to have her hand stroking my cock. After she smiled with satisfaction, she spit some saliva on my cock. My cock was throbbing as her warm saliva dripped onto it. She spread the saliva on my cock evenly on my cock as lubrication. She was stroking my cock while looking at me with lustful eyes. Her eyes seemed to tell me to cum quickly because she wanted my semen. Her look made me want to kiss her lips unconsciously, but she stopped me. "You can't do that. Now I can only help you cum with my hands. But if you are drawn in the lucky draw later, it will be a different story." Although I really wanted to kiss Eunha right now, I didn't want to be kicked out by the manager, so I had to suppress myself and enjoy the handjob she gave me first. Her hands never stopped, and if she felt her saliva was about to dry, she would continue to spit some saliva on my cock. Under the dual stimulation of her warm saliva and her hands, I cum a lot. Her hands were all covered with my cum. She brought her hands to her nose and smelled my cum. "I hope your cum won't be only on my hands later, but in my mouth or in my wet pussy." Her dirty talk made me hard again, but my round was over so I had to put my pants back on. Just as I was about to leave the cubicle, Eunha stopped me. ""I hope the goddess of luck will favor you in the upcoming lucky draw." She said to me.  Although the chances were slim, her words gave me a little hope. "I hope that too." I said this to her and left the cubicle. Afterwards, I gave my ticket to the staff present. He put my ticket into the lottery box. He also gave the same number as on the ticket.

When all the fans came out of the cubicle and sat down in their seats, Viviz also came out of the cubicle and greeted Na.V. “Annyeonghaseyo, Viviz imnida.” Although it was just a simple greeting, it made the fans present cheer. Viviz also smiled happily. Soon, the host appeared. “Na.V, did you guys enjoy what happened just now?“ The host asked. “Yes!!!” Na.V replied in unison. "Do you guys want to enjoy it more? There was no rejection, and all fans responded loudly that they needed more. The host took out the lottery box. "While I know everyone wants more, this will only be available to three fans and the three lucky fans will be drawn from this lottery box." The whole audience booed instantly. "I know everyone will be unhappy with this decision, but the three of us can't satisfy so many fans at once, so we have to do this." Hearing the boos, Umji immediately took the microphone to comfort the fans. "If you are not selected in the lucky draw later, don't be sad. We will take selfies with you one-on-one. It doesn't matter what poses you make during the selfie." Sinb took the mic and continued. When the fans heard this, they immediately stopped booing. "Even if you are not picked, don't be discouraged. After all, our music promotion activities will start next. So we will definitely meet a lot in the future. There may be more exciting benefits waiting for you then." Eunha continued to comfort. After hearing these words, the fans stopped making noise. Eunha handed the mic back to the host. "Since everyone agrees, let's draw the lottery without further delay. Maybe you will be the lucky winner." The host heated up the atmosphere. The person who draws the lottery is none other than Viviz. They need to serve the holder of the number they draw. Umji drew the first number and handed it to the host. "The first number is 08." The host announced. The fan holding the number 08 jumped up and cheered excitedly. Next, Sinb drew the number 06. Just before Eunha drew the lottery ticket, I was praying that I would be the lucky one in the end. “The last lucky winner is……” I was very nervous until the host made the announcement. “Is 05” After hearing the host's announcement, I looked at the number in my hand in disbelief, and then shouted it out loudly. “Oh yeah !!!!!” I looked at Eunha, and she looked at me. I had already started imagining what was going to happen next.

Although many fans who were not selected were disappointed, they regained some excitement when they thought about what they had just said about taking one-on-one selfies and doing any actions. The three of us who were selected were first taken backstage by the staff because we couldn’t take selfies with them for the time being. The remaining fans were invited to the stage by the staff and asked to line up. The staff explained to them that they could do anything bold to Viviz during the selfie. So the fans started to think about what to do to them. During the selfie, some fans grabbed Eunha's big tits, some asked Sinb to step on his dick, some kissed Umji directly, and some even asked them to grab his dick with their hands and take a selfie. Some even asked to take a selfie with their thighs holding the dick. Every fan took a photo with each member. This session lasted about 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, the fans who had taken the selfie photos left the venue one after another, and the three of us were informed by the staff that we could go to the front stage. We arrived at the front desk and saw Viviz had returned to the cubicle. But this time we were informed which member was in which cubicle, so we just had to go into the cubicle of the member who had just drawn our number.

The three of us stood in front of the cubicles and each entered the cubicle we were supposed to enter. This time I went into the middle cubicle. Eunha was very excited to see me go into her cubicle. When I saw Eunha again, all I could think of was her masturbating me and whispering dirty words in my ear. These images gave me an erection. Eunha saw the bulge in my pants and smirked. "Come and sit here." She patted the bed and motioned for me to sit next to her. I followed her instructions and sat next to her. I sat next to her and I was so nervous that my body was almost stiff and I didn't dare to move. "Don't be nervous, I'll let you freely use me from now until you want to end." She seemed to see that I was very nervous, so she leaned on my shoulder and said in my ear again. I was still shocked by her words, even though I had just ejaculated in her hand. I turned my head to look at her. She kissed me without saying a word. She stopped kissing and asked me. "This is the kiss you wanted just now. How is it? Do you like it? She stopped kissing and asked me. ”Yes, I love it so much!” After hearing this, she continued to kiss me with a happy face. While she was kissing me, her hand continued to touch my cock.  "Your cock is already so hard from just kissing." She broke the kiss and teased me. "Where do you want to put your rock hard cock in me?" she asked me as she continued to tease my cock. Her hands are so skillful in playing cock, I can't even form a word when her hand keeps playing with cock.  She kept looking at me and waiting for my answer. When she saw that I didn't answer, she kept teasing my cock with her thighs. "So where do you want your cock in me right now? Answer me quickly or else Sinb and Umji will already be enjoying the cum and I'll still be here waiting for your answer." Hearing Eunha's urgent request, I forced myself to say my first answer. "Mouth!!" She seems confused and asks me why.  "Your mouth is so tempting. I want to know the feeling of your soft mouth wrapped around my cock and how warm your mouth is." When she heard my answer, she smirked.

She kissed me again. But this time it was different, she stopped quickly and started kissing my neck. Then she took off my shirt and started sucking my nipples. My body trembled because of her sudden kiss on my nipples. She held one nipple in her mouth and teased the other nipple with her fingers. My nipples were completely hard because of her teasing. Then, she stuck out her tongue and licked my belly button. My body was now covered with her saliva. But she seemed not satisfied yet, and she was quickly unbuttoning my pants. My cock was fully exposed to Eunha again. Although it was not big, it was the size she liked. "You know what? I've been thinking about the perfect cock for me. We've been choosing the right cock for ourselves, and you're the perfect cock for me. The lottery and everything is fake, we rigged it a little so we could choose the person we wanted." Eunha looked at my cock and told the truth.I'm not interested in the truth. But I'm glad that I became her ideal person, so I'm going to enjoy Eunha even more. After saying all that, she took my cock into her mouth. "Oh damn..... Eunha. Your mouth is so fucking warm and soft." I let out a moan. She ignored me and continued to suck my cock, she took my entire length into her mouth, I could even feel the vibrations in her throat on my glans. She slowly pulled my cock out. My cock was completely covered with her saliva. I also had some pre-cum leaking out because of her skillful blowjob. After she spit my cock out,She stuck her tongue out to lick my pre-cum and then licked my dick all over and then took my cock into her mouth again. These skilled blowjob techniques made me feel like I was in heaven. Just when I was enjoying the blowjob she was giving me, suddenly the cubicle was raised. 

After the cubicle was raised, the six of us were completely exposed on the stage. But luckily no one else was watching from the audience. I looked around while I was still enjoying Eunha's blowjob. I just realized that Sinb and Umji were already naked and having sex with their fans. Sinb is riding a fan's cock in cowgirl style, the sound of their bodies colliding and the fan's moans make the whole scene very erotic. On the other hand, Umji was being fucked by fans in the doggy style. She begged the fans to spanked her hard and fuck her harder. Sinb and Umji's moans filled the venue, turning me on more and more. These scenes made me become bolder when I saw other fans already putting their dicks in their holes. At this point, I stood up and grabbed Eunha's head and started face-fucking her. She didn't resist at all, she just simply enjoyed me fucking her face roughly. Even though she was drooling from my face fucking, she didn't seem to be in any pain at all. Instead, she was looking forward to the moment when my semen would spurt out. Actually, when Eunha was giving me a blowjob, I was already craving for cum. So I fucked her face hard and cummed into her mouth in just a few strokes. She didn't spit out my cock immediately, but instead waited for me to shoot all my semen into her throat. “Fuck, you had cum alot in my mouth. It’s so tasty." She swallowed all my semen as she spoke.  "How about we have a second round? After the first time, you should know where you need to put your hard cock in me this time." She smirked and hinting me to fuck her pussy this time. Her few simple words gave me another erection. I got an instant erection because of other reasons. Because Sinb and Umji were asking fans to cum inside them. ”Just cum inside me, I want you to creampie me so much.”  As soon as they finished speaking, two fans instantly creampied them. Their pussies were dripping with fans' cum, and like Eunha, they were still not satisfied and asked for a second round. Eunha's teasing and the scenes of Sinb and Umji having sex made me so excited that I got an erection again instantly.

I quickly pushed Eunha down on the bed. Then, I spread her thighs and found that her pussy was already very wet. I didn't put my cock into her wet pussy right away, but touched her pussy first. Just touching the outside of her pussy, her wet pussy quickly soaked my fingers. I slowly put my hand into her pussy. “Stop teasing me already. I can’t wait to feel your dick inside me already.”  Eunha was already very sensitive, just putting it in made her moan loudly. I ignored her and inserted my second finger into her cunt. She was soon squirting as my fingers thrust in and out. My fingers and the bed she was lying on were filled with her juices. I took my fingers out and sent her juices into my mouth. The taste of her juices made me very excited. Her juice was like an aphrodisiac, filling my mind with horniness. I aimed my cock at her pussy and quickly thrust it in. The moment it went in, Eunha seemed to feel an unprecedented pleasure. "Fuck, your cock fills me up completely. Keep going, don't stop. Treat me like your sex doll. Fuck me hard." I grabbed her waist and started to thrust in and out. Her tits swaying from the thrusting and her lewd expression of enjoyment, all of these things stimulated me very much and made me fuck her harder. "Eunha, your pussy makes me feel so good. It's so great to have sex with you today." She put her hands on my shoulders and said to me with lustful eyes: "Since you like fucking me so much, don't stop until you cum all your sperm into me." Her words encouraged me and I increased my speed. As I went faster and faster, I wanted to cum more and more. She kept moaning because of my thrusts. Her moans were irresistible to me. Soon, I came. I obeyed her and shot all my second load into her pussy. While my cock was still shooting warm cum in her pussy, Eunha put her arms around my neck and pulled me close to her and we kissed. She let me go when she felt my second load was finished. I pulled my cock out and saw that even my second load was very heavy. Her pussy was immediately flooded with cum.

I thought it was all over after I cum twice. "I want more. I haven't enjoyed it enough. I want your semen. I am yours today." But Eunha still wanted a third round. After hearing this, I agreed to her request without hesitation. Then I turned her around. Her nice ass was now facing me. Her ass was round and meaty and it made me even harder. Before I put it in her hole, I tried putting my hard cock between her ass and started rubbing it. "Fuck, your ass feels so good too." Her ass feels totally different from her pussy. "Stop teasing my ass already, faster put it in my pussy.” She couldn't bear the teasing any more and just wanted me to put it in quickly. I listened to her and put my cock into her pussy. I started fucking Eunha in doggy style. I grabbed her ass and pushed it back and forth to make it easier for me to fuck her. As I was fucking Eunha, I kept my eyes peeled to see what was going on. I saw Umji doing a 69 with a fan, and another fan was about to put his dick in Sinb's ass, and although she kept trying to stop him, it was finally put in her ass. When it was inserted into her ass, she moaned loudly. After my observation, I turned my attention back to Eunha. While pumping her, my hands moved to her tits and started fondling them. Her tits are really a huge temptation for me, and I can't help but want to touch them every time. “Yes，keep touching them. I love the way you touch them. You make me even horny right now." She seemed to really enjoy having her breasts touched, as if that was her sensitive area. “Eunha, you are so great! I might cum again soon.” She is a huge temptation to me. Each time of penetration does not last long but can make me cum a very large amount of semen. “Just cum everywhere you like as long as it's my body part.” Soon, I pulled out my cock and shot my semen on her round ass. The white semen covered her ass, making her ass look very sexy. 

Just as I finished the third shot, the other two finished at the same time. The fan who was doing 69 with Umji ejaculated in her mouth, and all her juices were ejaculated into his mouth. And Sinb's ass had obvious palm prints, which obviously showed that she was spanked during the process of thrusting, and the fan's semen was cum into her ass. All three of us thoroughly enjoyed it. "We ended at the same time, how about we switch partners?" Someone proposed this to us. We all nodded in agreement without objection. When we were about to take action, the manager beside us stopped us. "You can't switch partners at will, you can only focus on the partner you choose." We had no choice but to obey. The three of them seemed to have reached a consensus, they stood up and pushed the three of us down on the bed. Viviz rides on our cocks at the same time in perfect synchronicity. Eunha rode my cock and started moving her hips to pump herself. She looked at me with very lustful eyes and her hands were on my body, while my hands were holding her waist. "Did you like my performance today?" Eunha asked me. Her continuous movements made her sweat break out. Her body was full of sweat beads. Some of the sweat even dripped onto my body, but I didn't care and I really liked it. "Yes, I fucking love your performance today, Eunha." She smiled at me with satisfaction and kissed me. As she was kissing me she forgot to keep moving her hips so I put my hands on her ass and started moving my hips to pump into her. She felt the force of my thrusts so she broke the kiss and moaned loudly. “Cum inside me this time.” “As you wish.” After that, I shot my semen into her again. She felt the warm sperm all shot into her. She lifted herself up from my dick and showed me how much I cum inside her. My cum dripped out of her pussy and onto my body. She smiled at me and knelt between my legs. She licked all the cum she had dripped onto my body and then licked my cock. She licked my cock clean after I had ejaculated four times, leaving no cum on my cock except her saliva. Eunha also kissed my cock to thank me for the cum today. "That's it for today, thank you for all the cum today." I smiled at her happily. 

When I finished, the other two finished as well. Sinb and Umji also knelt between their thighs and licked their cocks clean to thank them for the cum today. All six of us collapsed on the bed exhausted. After a break, they thanked us again and promised us that they would do a good job in this promotion and hold such surprise events again if there is a chance. We also agreed with Viviz that we would be there on time to support them.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

The Great Bucky Bake Off | Bucky Barnes x Reader | One shot - 3.5k words

An Avengers retreat takes a turn for the better when Bucky decides to eat your pot brownies… all of the pot brownies.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content. Drinking, casual drug use, Avengers wearing onesies for reasons, very flirty Bucky, p in v & oral sex. Rated R for ridiculous.

A/N: Happy birthday, Bucky Barnes!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Okay, ‘fess up, who ate all my brownies?” You turned to stare down the rest of the team, admittedly a little slow on your feet already.

The scene in the living room could only be described as chaotic. When Tony suggested he fly the team out to his remote cabin for “rest, recuperation and team building”, you had been fully on board. You were even more on board when he had you buy everyone fluffy animal onesies and you’d signed yourself up to a lifetime of being obsessed with your job the day you received an email to source as much weed, alcohol and Asgardian liquor as possible. Being the Avengers PA certainly had its perks. 

“Not me!” Steve admitted, far too quickly. “I didn’t eat them.” He shook his head, sending the dog ears on top of his onesie flopping about. 

You narrowed your eyes, “Well, you sure know something.” He looked the picture of innocence until he pulled Sam into the conversation. 

“Tell 'er Sam, we dunno nothin’ 'bout brownies." 

"Nuthin’” Sam shook his head too, his beer sloshing dramatically in its glass and wetting his hand. “My wings!” He steadied the bottle and brushed the stray liquid from the soft Eagle wings that made up the arms of his outfit.

“Have you spoken to James?” Natasha asked, leaning next to you and swiping crumbs from the plate, the last of the joint you’d shared placed delicately between her fingers. Somehow she managed to make the black onesie look very stylish, the arms rolled up to the silvery spiderwebs embroidered on the elbows and shoulders.

“James? Bucky?" 

Organising and taking part in retreats was your second favourite part of your job. Bucky took the top spot, miles ahead of everything else with his handsome, stubbled face and gruff but gentlemanly manner. Despite being part of the team for a while, he still kept to the background, staying out of the way and keeping quiet. He was always especially polite to you, holding the door and making sure you were included all the time, even if he never really stayed that long at Stark’s parties or Steve’s team building exercises.

Deep down you hoped it was because he saw you the same way you saw him, in your dreams, surrounded by little hearts. 

But life just wasn’t that kind, and you took his friendship gladly if that was all he could give. 

"Why would Bucky eat them, can he even get high?” You slid forwards, leaning on the counter and clutching the empty tray. 

“Bambi!” The four of you whipped around, surprised. Bucky bounced into the room with an enthusiasm that Steve hadn’t seen for decades. He also had chocolate on his cheeks and crumbs all down his front making him instantly guilty. You looked down at your onesie, light brown and speckled like a deer with tiny antlers on the hood. 

“Ha, yeah, like Bambi.” You giggled.

“And I’m Thumper!” He laughed back pulling the hood of his own pyjamas up and letting the long, grey, ears drop in front of his face. 

“Because you punch people?” You were momentarily confused, your brain refusing to work and instead focusing on the too tight fabric around Bucky’s arms. 

Behind you Sam coughed to cover his laughter and Natasha turned away, eyes full of mirth. 

“No! Thumper in Bambi!" 

"The girl rabbit?” Tony dropped down onto the huge sectional couch, surprisingly sober. Although you were sure that had more to do with promising Pepper to keep the cabin safe, rather than any personal choice. 

“Thumper is a boy.” Bucky insisted, eyes never leaving yours, his smile boyish and relaxed.

“How would you know?” Sam scoffed, leaning over the back of the couch, positively gleeful when Steve whispered that Bambi was also a boy and they fell back laughing together.

“Because, Sam, I’ve seen Bambi." 

"What?” Tony’s snort of derision didn’t go unnoticed, but you shot him a glare. This was possibly the most relaxed you’d ever seen Bucky, you wouldn’t be letting anyone, including your boss, spoil it. 

“I saw Bambi, in 1942, when it first came out,” he said proudly. 

“That’s right, I remember!” Steve jumped up, the Asgardian liquor cocktail that Natasha had rustled up earlier starting to take effect. “We went with your sisters, Rebecca cried when Bambi’s mom got shot and he was all alone." 

"Don’t spoil it, Stevie.” Bucky chastised, turning back to you as quickly as possible, “Have you seen it? Do you want to see it? We could see it?”

You nodded but he ignored you, continuing to talk as he got closer and closer, backing you into the kitchen island where the empty brownie tray dropped with a clang. 

"We can go, I’ll take you, Saturday, you can have as much popcorn and soda as you like.” His right hand swayed by his side, nudging closer to yours until your fingers touched. “What d'ya say?" 

Every fibre of your being screamed yes, just as you’d internally jumped for joy whenever he came by your office or handed you a coffee. But those times you were sober, calm, collected. Now you were four drinks and half a joint deep, floating off into the clouds. Professional judgement be damned. 

So you screamed "Yes!” outloud for once. 

He beamed, throwing his arms around you and squeezing just a little too tight until you squeaked. “Good, gonna be my best girl, my Bambi and I’ll be Thumper, buy you lots of popcorn and - oh - you’re really soft.” His hands found the back of your hood, pulling it up to sit on top of your head, letting it fall into your eyes. 

“Yeah it’s nice, right?” 

“S’fluffy.” Bucky’s thumbs brushed over your lips and down your neck, just inside the hood for a moment, before finding your shoulders and arms, rubbing the fuzzy material until you felt static build on your skin. “You’re really cute, y’know,” he whispered. “My own little Bambi.”

“I know.” You giggled back, picking up the joint again so you’d had something to do with your hands other than grip the front of your own outfit. 

“We didn’t smoke weed back in the day,” he said, conversationally, as if he didn’t have his hands in your pockets, pulling out your lighter and a lip balm. 

“No?” You took a drag, blowing the smoke to the side politely. 

“Did a lot of cocaine though, keep us awake on missions.” 

“Jesus. That’s…intense.” 

He nodded, watching your fingers against your lips, the little pout when you exhaled. 

“Can I?” 

“You ate a whole tray of brownies, Bucky, I don’t know if you should have anymore.” You extended your arm away from his grabby hands, hoping Natasha would come and take it away again, but to no avail. Instead, he lifted you onto the counter, pinned your leg down and followed the line of your arm to your outstretched hand. His lips brushed the backs of your fingers when he took the twist of paper into his lips. You waved him over and he held his breath as he returned to you, leaning in close and only exhaling when you pulled your hoods together, his nose against yours. 

Instinctively you inhaled, the rush of smoke and the smell of Bucky was overwhelming. You giggled again, trapping him against you with an arm around his neck and your legs around his waist. 

“Haven’t shotgunned since college.” You smiled, everything was so floaty and soft, fuzzy round the edges and so fucking warm. When did it get so warm? 

“You know with your floppy ears you could be-” your laughter bubbled up, cutting you off, “you could- sorry - oh my god - you could be Bucks Bunny!" 

Bucky did not seem to like that nickname as much as Thumper and told you so, pouting until you let him take another long drag. 

Time seemed to slow down between Bucky’s words, his hands, the way your glass of wine felt in your hand and the texture of his onesie. They were a good idea, so soft, good for petting, and Bucky was petting you too. His right hand was burning hot, even through the thick material, the pads of his fingers were calloused and rough, but the palm was soft. His left hand was so rigid, making a whirring noise. When you put your cheek to the artificial bicep it ticked pleasantly and you smiled, sighing and closing your eyes so you could concentrate on the joined sounds of Bucky’s heart and his prosthesis. In turn, Bucky held you gently, his metal fingers gentle on your back where he kept you snuggled in tight beside him. 

You were faintly aware of the ongoing chatter across the room, but it had faded away into background static. Your soul focus was on the way two of Bucky’s eyebrow hairs stuck out from the others, the little patch of grey forming in his stubble, the dark fleck of colour in his iris, the way his mouth looked saying your name. Oh shit, he’s saying your name, say something back! 

“Uh huh, yeah, uhm - maybe?” 

He tipped his head to the side, bunny ears flopping over too, and came closer again. His hands on your cheeks. “I’ll help you.” He leant forwards to rest his forehead against yours. 

“What’ya doing?” You tried to look at your forehead too but your eyes seemed to stop when they got to your eyelashes. Annoying. 

“Telling you what I’m thinking without saying it.” 

“Oh, is it working?” 

“You have to tell me that, silly!”

“I don’t think it’s working,” you whispered, loudly, and Natasha groaned from the sofa closest to the kitchen. 

“These two are out, done, nothing more for them,” she declared, waving her glass of red wine. 

A chorus of yes and agreed sounded from the remaining Avengers. Clint had already fallen asleep across one of the arm chairs, his beer dribbling onto his shirt from the neck of the bottle. Steve and Sam were deep in debate about the merits of Japanese whiskey over original scotch whisky and Tony was watching you both intently, his own glass of Glengoyne warming in his hand. The way the condensation formed under his fingers was fascinating, and you told Bucky as much, pulling him close to your cheek so you could get the same view. 

 “I concur, what did you do to my PA, Barnes?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re a bad influence.” 

“She’s not you PA, she’s our PA. So she’s ours to influence,” he returned, proudly. 

Tony just continued to stare, pointedly, sipping his drink.

“What you gonna influence me to do, Buck?” You kicked your legs against the kitchen counter, a picture of innocence, and Tony laughed into his drink. 

But Bucky looked at you very seriously, bent to whisper in your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck, his leg between yours, muscular and firm despite the fluffy clothes. 

“I’m gonna influence you to steal all of Stark’s M&Ms.” He tried to keep quiet but ended up choking out the end of his sentence around his own uncontrollable giggles. 

“Oh my god, you know he has me take the red ones out, says they’re smug. I have so many red M&Ms in my flat.” 

“Hey, that’s supposed to be a secret!” 

“Wanna eat all the red ones I brought with me?” 

Bucky helped you down from the counter and then across to the pantry where you’d stashed the huge bags of snacks and sweets when you first arrived. Despite Steve’s shouts of leaving some for everyone, you closed the door and sat down, ready to tuck in, wrappers and chocolate littering the floor while you dug about for your favourites. Bucky sat on the floor, encouraging you to sit between his legs, keeping his hands moving over the downy material of your onesie. 

“Okay, Bambi, what’ve you got for me?” 

Before you could even attempt to feed him anything, Steve wrenched the door open, hands on his hips. “I think you need to sleep this one off, not eat more chocolate,” he insisted, waving at you both to get back up. 

“Nuh-uh, Steve, not leaving.” Bucky tightened his arms around your waist and nuzzled into the back of your neck. “You smell like cake,” he exclaimed, happily, ignoring Steve. 

“Sam! Can you help me shift Bucky?!” 

“What about me?” You pouted, holding Bucky’s hands around your waist. 

“You need to go to bed as well.” Natasha extended her hand to yours in an effort to pull you off the floor, but Bucky’s grip was too strong. 

Eventually, it took everyone to wrestle you away from Bucky and bundle you into your room. In the corridor, Bucky howled his anger, breaking out of his room to easily find you in yours. 

“Bambi! There you are! Those awful hunters took you!” he cooed, squishing your cheeks again and kissing your pouty lips. Deep down your brain registered that this was your first kiss with him, that the man who had been consuming your thoughts for months was actually kissing you, willingly, and had broken a door so he could get close enough to do so. 

“Buh-kee, it was just Nat and Tony,” you drawled, your lips moving gently against his, reluctant to pull away. 

“I know, but I didn’t like it, wanna stay here with you.” 

Natasha, who was still trying to wrestle you into bed, gave up. “If you two stay in here together, and stay out of trouble, I won’t say anything.” She pointed at you both, eyebrows slightly raised. 

“Promise I’ll be good, Natty.” You fluttered your eyelashes at her dramatically, hoping to seem more trustworthy, but she just rolled her eyes. “Fine, stay here.” 

And then you were alone. 

You hesitated for a moment, watching the slow movement of Bucky’s face, fascinated by the way the muscles tightened minutely when he smiled. 

“I’m going to kiss you again now,” he stated, so formal that you broke out into another fit of laughter which made you hiccup and grab for his chest to steady yourself. 

He ignored you, bending his head and catching your lips with his, messy and rushed. 

“You taste real nice, you know?” Bucky licked across your lips again, swallowing your giggles. 

“You taste nice too, ate all my damn brownies.” With a long lick up his chocolate smeared cheek, you kissed him back, tangling your hands in his hair, trying to push the too hot, stuffy, fluffy, onesie off his shoulders. 

Bucky shrugged, and sat back to push the material down to his hips. Your eyes followed the movements of his hands, the way each inch of muscle revealed itself and, suddenly, you were hungry again, lunging forwards to bury your face between his pecs. Starting at his sternum, you kissed further and further down, shoving him backwards so you could climb on top of him, nipping and kissing bruises in a slow trail towards the end of the zipper. With a twist of his wrist, his cock sprang free from its confines and you bent down to lick the pearlescent precum leaking from his tip. 

“Fuck, Bambi.” He dropped his head back, one hand gripping the pillows and the other cupping the back of your head while you licked the head like an ice cream. “I’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.” 

You sat back on your heels, letting your fingers dance up and down his cock. “Feels soft,” you observed, thoughtfully, “Hard and soft at the same time, isn’t that funny?” 

Bucky couldn’t reply, he just laid back, watching the woman he’d pined after for months finally touch him the way he’d dreamed. It seemed surreal to be here, in your bed, with your hands all over his body like you owned it. Well, he thought, you did own it, you just didn’t really understand that yet. 

“I wanna touch you, too,” he insisted, “Can I?” His hands hovered over your clothes, so close to the zipper his fingertips brushed it when you breathed. You nodded and he lowered the metal slowly. 

Everything seemed slow now, even his voice, mumbling against your skin when he kissed down your breasts and took your nipple into his mouth. When he bit down a little, you giggled, his fingers tickling your sides, until you were both laughing again, half in and half out of your onesies, brains full of cotton wool and lust and nerves. 

“Hey, hey.” You tugged on his hair until he looked up, resting his cheek on your belly. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Yes, I’m so good with secrets!” He crawled back over your body, lowering his face close to yours. “You can whisper it or you can do it telepathically.” 

“I’m not telepathic, Bucky.” 

“Sure, like this.” He dropped his forehead to yours. “I know all your secrets now.” 

“No, you don’t!” You shoved him, but he didn’t move. 

“I do!”

“Tell me then.” 

His eyes roamed over your face, from your eyes to your lips as if he couldn’t help it. “You like me.” 

“Everyone likes you, Buck, you just think they don’t.” 

“No you like me, you want to step out with me, be my best girl.” He looked overjoyed to have revealed your secret before you could. “Am I right?”

“Don’t be mean to me, Barnes.” 

“I’m not being mean, I read your mind.” 

“You know what? Fuck off.” You shoved a second time, but he still didn’t move. 

“Wanna read my mind? I’ll help.” His forehead met yours again, sweat beading along your hairline from the stress of being so clearly seen by the man you’d been fantasising about for months. Before you could protest that only he could read minds while high, he was kissing you again. Slow and steady, his tongue nudging your lips gently until you opened for him, throwing your arms around his neck and letting the feeling of petal soft kisses take over you. 

He moved away only enough to take off his now too warm onesie, as well as your own, leaving you both naked and tangled together on the bed. He couldn’t get enough of touching you, he felt buoyant, happy in a way that he hadn’t for months, years, and he never wanted it to end. His fingers tingled when they touched you, though it was becoming harder and harder to stay in control. 

“Bucky, I want you,” you managed to squeak out between kisses, fumbling awkwardly between you both, hoping he understood.

"I want you too.” He nodded, bumping your heads together. 

You wriggled beneath him, guiding him between your legs until he was buried inside of you. 

“Damn it, Bambi, you feel soft everywhere.” His wide eyed expression made you smile.

“You’re kinda soft too, Bucky.” This side of him was one you’d been dying to see, unguarded and playful. 

He nuzzled your cheek and began to move, tentative at first and then faster. In your dreamy state, it was hard to know where you started and ended or how long you’d been locked together. 

You moved as one, slow and steady, enjoying the feel of each other’s warm skin and chocolate sweet kisses, breaking every now and again to stare at each other in awe. 

Bucky seemed to sense your approaching release before you did, speeding up when you fluttered around him, the erratic movement of his hips driving you closer and closer to the edge of the bed until you both tumbled out. The pillows and sheets followed soon after, dropping on you in an avalanche of goose down and brushed cotton. 

You both paused in shock, your giggles broken by your fall, but then he was pulling you back down on top of him and holding your hips steady. 

“Bucky, I wanna - I gotta -” Your hand drifted between you again to touch your sensitive clit, just a little more pressure and you could feel your orgasm building. The tightness of your pleasure started between your legs and radiated out to your toes, making them curl against the sheepskin rug beneath you. 

Bucky followed after you, unable to control himself from the onslaught of sensation your clenching heat provided. 

You woke the next day in a tangle of limbs and bedding, your back sore from sleeping on the floor all night and your brain fuzzy. Beside you, still with a smear of chocolate on his cheek, Bucky continued to sleep.