CaitVi Glazer

Also this is supposed to be a side by side situation so as you can see Caitlyn is suuuuper busy with her duties… so so busy :)

You cant blame her - the new deckhand is uh mildly infuriating

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn blinked. “…What?”

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

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

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

Oh.

You.

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

She didn’t blink.

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

“—which is exactly why this will work.”

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

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

“…It was symbolic.”

“It was a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

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

But.

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

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

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

You sighed, running a hand through your hair.

Well.

This was going to be interesting.

_

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

Caitlyn arrived first.

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

She checked her watch.

You were late.

Of course.

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

The door swung open.

And there you were.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Public appearances. Paparazzi setups. Social media teases.

A performance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn’s fingers twitched against her lap.

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

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn hated how much the nickname made her jaw clench.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raised a brow. “Define surprises.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deadpanned. “Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

And soon, the whole world would believe it.

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

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

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

A perfect storm.

And now?

Now, Twitter was in shambles.

@ popculturetakedown

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

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

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

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

—

@ user83723

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

@ caitlynsbabe

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

@ altgirldreamz

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

@ y/nslays

WHO LET THIS HAPPEN LMAOOOOO THIS IS SENDING ME

@ insiderupdates

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

Showtime.

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn gave you a blank stare.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Perfect.

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

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

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

Caitlyn noticed.

Her lips twitched. Like she was fighting a smile.

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

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

Paparazzi had arrived.

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

Caitlyn arched a brow. “Right.”

Another flash.

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

“Well, now’s a great time to start!”

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn ignored you, already moving.

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

You smirked, shutting the door behind her.

This game was getting very interesting.

TWITTER REACTIONS:

@ celebrityupdates

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

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

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

@ user930482

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

@ y/n’sfanclub

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

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

@ caitlynsnation

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

@ altgirlsupremacy

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

____

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

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

This was going to get out of hand fast.

And yet…

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

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

Strictly business.

Nothing more.

Right?

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You love it.”

She didn’t dignify that with a response.

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

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

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

“I flinched one time.”

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

You smirked. “When you what?”

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

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

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

“—tender gazes into your breathtakingly beautiful eyes—”

She shot you a look.

You grinned. “Sorry, continue.”

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

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

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

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

Strict.

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

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

No.

That wasn’t part of this.

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

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

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

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

She caught it.

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

Something in her chest tightened.

It was nothing.

Except it wasn’t.

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

And that realization?

That was dangerous.

___

The Next day, Caitlyn invited you to dinner.

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

You, of course, had other thoughts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too late.”

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

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

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

Caitlyn raised a brow. “We know enough.”

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

“…It’s navy blue.”

“See? I was gonna say beige.”

Caitlyn gave you a look. “Beige?”

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

Caitlyn sighed. “I don’t play games.”

“You’re literally in one right now.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, you love it.”

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

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

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

It was… frustrating.

And unfair.

And dangerous.

You caught her staring.

“What?”

Caitlyn blinked. “Nothing.”

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

And the worst part?

Caitlyn didn’t hate it.

___

The ride back to Caitlyn’s hotel was quiet.

For once, you weren’t filling the silence.

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

“You’re quiet,” Caitlyn noted.

You hummed. “That happens sometimes.”

She raised a brow. “Does it?”

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

Something about that sentence made Caitlyn pause.

Because it was true.

She didn’t know you. Not really.

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

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

Caitlyn hesitated, then nodded.

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

And now?

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn didn’t respond.

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

And that?

That was a problem.

___

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

Caitlyn: Are you awake?

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

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

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

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

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

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

You: rude.

Caitlyn: Honest.

A beat passed. The messages stopped.

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

You frowned, your exhaustion fading slightly.

You: whats up?

Caitlyn: Nothing.

You: ur lying.

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

There was a long pause.

Then—

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

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard.

That was not what you expected.

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

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

You hesitated, then typed:

You: yeah. yeah, i do.

Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again.

Caitlyn: How do you deal with it?

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

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

Caitlyn: Dumb shit?

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

Caitlyn: That sounds ridiculous.

You: thats the point.

Another pause.

Then—

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

You grinned.

You: oh babe. ur not ready for this.

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

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

Caitlyn: I feel personally offended by this.

You: good.

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

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

Caitlyn: Thank you.

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

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Beside you, Caitlyn stiffened almost imperceptibly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh, this was dangerous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “You so were.”

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

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

For once, Caitlyn didn’t have a response.

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Because sometimes, I think I forget.”

Your stomach did something weird. Something annoying.

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

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

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

Forget what?

And why did it feel like you almost understood?

_

TWITTER REACTIONS:

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

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

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

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

You swallowed and kept scrolling.

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

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

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

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

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

Another ping.

Your best friend had texted.

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

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

Still, curiosity got the better of you.

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

The results? Pure chaos.

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

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

@ deluluupdates TS CRAZYYY. WATCH THEM GET MARRIED TOMORROW.

You snorted. That wasn’t happening.

Probably.

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

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

The caption?

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

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

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

Caitlyn: Are you seeing all of this?

You hesitated before responding.

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

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

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

Three dots appeared, then disappeared. Then appeared again.

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

You smirked, already typing back.

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

Caitlyn: Absolutely not.

You: You’re no fun.

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

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

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

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

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

The typing bubbles appeared. Stopped. Appeared again.

Then—

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

You grinned.

You: And yet, you blushed.

Read. No reply.

You had her. You so had her.

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

Caitlyn: For the record, I did not blush.

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

She left you on read again.

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

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

So why did it feel like something more?

___

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. You weren’t expecting that.

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

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

“Exactly. So tell me something real.”

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

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

Which was dangerous.

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

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

What if this wasn’t just a game anymore?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shifted your weight. “Yeah. Right.”

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

Then she stepped back. “Get home safe.”

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

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

This was bad.

This was really bad.

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

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

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

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

Except…

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

_

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

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

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

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

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

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

But inside, you were spiraling.

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

And yet, here you were.

Falling.

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that scared you more than anything.

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

And the worst part? You didn’t mind.

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

Then, suddenly—

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

It was another Twitter post.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

Wait.

You cracked one eye open, blinking against the drowsiness.

Caitlyn was still there.

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

Your heart stuttered.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

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

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

You froze.

Then, her grip on you tightened, just slightly.

And she mumbled something else.

Something that made your breath catch.

“Don’t go.”

Your entire body went still.

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

Did she know what she was saying?

Did you?

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

But this?

This didn’t feel like a lie.

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

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

Just for a little longer.

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

You told yourself you’d get up soon.

You really needed to get up.

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

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

And yet—

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

Okay. Maybe this was something.

The realization made your stomach twist.

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

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

You were so fucked.

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

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

Then—realization hit.

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

You swallowed. “Morning.”

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

You missed her warmth the second it was gone.

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

And just like that, the moment was gone.

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

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

That stung more than it should have.

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

Your smirk faltered.

Right.

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

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

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

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

You were so fucked.

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

What the hell was wrong with her?

She knew the answer.

She just didn’t want to admit it.

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

And Caitlyn could not afford to fall for you.

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

She just had to pretend this wasn’t happening.

She just had to lie.

–

Scrolling through Twitter was a mistake.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let yourself want it to be real.

And that was dangerous.

Your phone buzzed.

Caitlyn: Are you free today?

Your stomach flipped. Pathetic.

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

Instead—

You: Yeah. What’s up?

Caitlyn didn’t know why she texted you.

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

But the truth—the truth was far more terrifying.

Because she wanted to see you.

And that was a problem.

Her phone buzzed.

You: Yeah. What’s up?

She exhaled.

Caitlyn: Want to go for a drive?

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

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched.

Caitlyn: Would it make a difference if it was?

A pause. Then—

You: Depends. Are we getting coffee first?

—

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

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

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

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

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

Caitlyn hummed. “You sound surprised.”

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

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

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

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

And then—

“You’ve been quiet today,” she said.

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

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

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

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

You sighed. “I was scrolling through Twitter.”

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

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

Silence.

Caitlyn’s fingers tightened slightly on the wheel.

You exhaled. “Do you ever feel guilty?”

She glanced at you. “For what?”

“For lying.”

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

Then—

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

A beat of silence.

“No.”

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

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

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “It was.”

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

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

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

But instead—

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

Caitlyn glanced at you. “Which one?”

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

A pause. A long, heavy pause.

Then—

“Conflicted.”

Your heart skipped.

You weren’t sure what to say to that.

Because the thing was—you felt conflicted too.

But for a completely different reason.

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

But now—now, your heart was betraying you.

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

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

Neither of you moved.

Neither of you spoke.

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

You turned to her. She was already watching you.

“Caitlyn…”

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

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

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

It stung.

And you hated that it did.

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

You reached for the door handle, pausing.

And maybe it was reckless. Maybe it was stupid.

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

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

—

Caitlyn didn’t move.

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

Her heart was hammering.

Because the way you looked at her just now—

Like you knew.

Like you saw through her.

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

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

She was screwed.

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

And that?

That was dangerous.

You barely slept.

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

You weren’t stupid.

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

And that terrified you.

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

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

Your heart lurched when you saw the name.

Caitlyn Kiramman.

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

Then, before you could overthink it, you answered.

“Hello?”

A pause.

Then—

“Good morning.”

You swallowed. “Hey.”

Another pause.

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

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

You shouldn’t have expected anything else.

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

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

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

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

Not after last night.

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

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

“Okay.”

Another silence.

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

“I’ll see you soon.”

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

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

But your mind wasn’t focused on that.

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

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

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

She looked… good. Unfairly so.

And worse? She looked nervous.

She didn’t get nervous. Not Caitlyn Kiramman.

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

You swallowed.

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

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

You arched a brow. “PR reasons.”

She finally looked at you. Really looked at you.

And for a second, it was hard to breathe.

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

You blinked.

Your throat was dry.

“Isn’t it?”

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

And suddenly, the air shifted.

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

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

But you didn’t.

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

“You tell me.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched.

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

Admit it.

Ruin everything.

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

“Finish your coffee.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.

But not forgotten.

Not even close.

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

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

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

You weren’t convinced.

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

It was subtle, but it was there.

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

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

Caitlyn blinked. “What?”

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

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

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

You smirked. “You should.”

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

Her breath hitched.

For a moment, she just stared.

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

But this?

This felt more intimate.

More dangerous.

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

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

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

Checkmate.

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

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

—

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

“You are mad.”

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

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

Silence.

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

You blinked. “What?”

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

Your breath caught in your throat.

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

For a second, neither of you spoke.

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

You both knew you’d crossed a line.

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

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

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

But now?

Now, the game wasn’t fun anymore.

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

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

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

-

Your phone vibrated on the couch. A text.

Caitlyn: Can we talk?

You stared at the message, pulse skipping.

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

But you weren’t that strong.

You: Door’s open.

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

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

You folded your arms. “No kidding.”

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

You huffed a laugh. “Yeah, no shit.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart stuttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your heart twisted. “Do you want to?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it.

That silence was enough of an answer.

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

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

“Then explain it to me!”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

And that—that—was what hurt the most.

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

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

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

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

Slowly, you turned back to her.

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

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

But this—this raw admission—was too much.

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

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

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

Your stomach dropped.

She was running again.

Of course she was.

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

You didn’t stop her.

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

No.

Not this time.

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

“Caitlyn!”

She froze at the sound of your voice.

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

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

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

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

Finally, she turned to face you.

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

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

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

She couldn’t say it.

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

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

And then, suddenly, she was kissing you.

Desperately.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For once, she wasn’t running.

For once, she was here.

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

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

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

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

Your heart clenched. “Then don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something like acceptance.

“…Okay.”

It was barely a whisper, but it was enough.

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

_

@PopCultureDaily

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

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

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

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

@ fangirl_101

WE WON. WE ACTUALLY WON. 🫠

@ shipname_updates

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

@ lesbianrights

HISTORY IS BEING MADE.

And just like that, the internet had its confirmation.

It was real.

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