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supernovafics · 3 months ago

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𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.7k words

warnings: explicit language, alcohol consumption, jealous!reader, a bit of angst, fluff

summary: in which you don’t expect to feel so bothered seeing steve talk to another girl, but you do

author's note: this was unfinished for months and i finally felt inspired to actually finish it thank god. i'm trying to slowly get back into writing stuff for this series so enjoy this for now<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Summer 1986

When you first heard about the party, you didn’t think too much about it because your Friday night plans were already settled. A simple movie night in your living room with Steve featuring some of the new arrivals that had just gotten to Family Video. However, you still nodded and said a quick, “Maybe I’ll check it out” to your college friend when she told you about her party and you got the address from her too out of niceness.

It wasn’t until you half-mentioned the party to Robin as you picked through the new arrivals cart during the final hour of her and Steve’s shift that going actually became a possibility.

“Wait, what? A party at a lake house sounds perfect. We have to go.”

Steve was quick to look up from the computer and shake his head at her words. “No way. We already have plans for the night, Robs.”

The eye roll he received in response was immediate. “You two can waste away on the couch any night you want. Tonight we should go to a party.”

You considered her words and nodded after a second. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Thank you,” She smiled at you before looking back at Steve. “And you need to remember that I’m only gonna be here for a few more weeks, so we need to do as much stupid shit as we can while I am still here.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at her words. “Okay, you can’t keep using the college card like it’s an ‘I only have two weeks left to live’ card.”

“I second that,” Steve agreed. “Also, you keep making it seem like you’re going thousands of miles away. You’re only gonna be an hour away from here.”

“Yeah, well, still, things are changing,” She told you both. “And I wanna have fun before I leave.”

Fun ended up being an understatement.

Barely an hour into the party she was drunk due to one too many cupfuls of whatever punch concoction had been thrown together and put in a big bowl in the kitchen. You and Steve shared one cup of the weirdly sweet drink and then decided to simply settle into the role of babysitting Robin.

You both were currently lingering by a wall and watching as Robin danced with all of the other people crowded in the living room; you vaguely recognized the ABBA song playing. You made a mental note to tell her no if she came running over to you and Steve and proposed the idea of getting another drink.

“This is your fault, you know,” Steve told you, leaning into your ear to be heard over the music. “If you didn’t mention the party to her earlier, you and I would be on the couch watching a movie and eating takeout from Third Street.”

You gave him a sad look coupled with a pouty lip and he immediately felt bad, taking your look to heart. He quickly leaned in to apologetically kiss you.

“Sorry,” He mumbled against your lips.

You were smiling as he pulled away. “You’re too easy.”

He immediately rolled his eyes at you and playfully poked your side, which made you laugh. “And you’re very evil.”

“Sorry, I had to,” You said and initiated the quick kiss that time around. “Anyway, yes, I know this is my fault and I’d kill to have Third Street right now, but look how happy she is.” You gestured in the direction of where Robin was in the packed living room, dancing with all of the other people who you were convinced were at least half-drunk, but you now couldn’t see her. “Wait, shit, where did she go?”

Steve looked around for a second too and then let out a sigh when he also couldn’t spot her. Maybe you two weren’t the best babysitters after all.

“Okay, I’ll check upstairs and you look around down here,” You said to him. “Oh, and maybe grab some water too. She’ll probably need it sooner rather than later.”

Steve gave you a quick nod. “Okay.”

You checked every room upstairs and instead of finding Robin you accidentally interrupted one too many couples making out. After quickly peeking into the last room and mumbling out another “Oops, sorry,” you headed back down the stairs, hoping Steve had better luck than you. You noticed him in the kitchen, two water bottles in hand, and talking to someone who wasn’t Robin but you immediately recognized.

Vanessa. A girl who was in one of your classes last semester and had gone on a handful of dates with Steve at the end of last year.

It was hard to decipher what they were talking about right then, but Steve had a small smile on his face and so did she.

You couldn’t recognize why— or maybe you just refused to admit it right then— but you felt the sudden urge to insert yourself into the conversation; sidle up next to Steve, grab his hand and wrap his arm around you, kiss his cheek or simply plant one on his mouth. Essentially mark your territory for everyone, especially Vanessa, to see. But, you were way too sober to actually consider doing any of that, so you instead looked away from him and went back to searching for Robin.

You found her moments later, sitting on the chair swing on the front porch of the house.

“Hey, Robs, what are you doing out here?” You asked softly as you sat down next to her, trying not to move the swing too much but that proved to be a lot harder than you thought.

Robin didn’t seem to mind, though. Her eyes were closed as she shrugged at your question. “Just wanted some fresh air.”

“Makes sense,” You nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Her eyes stayed shut as she answered you. “Sleepy, but at the same time I kinda wanna get another drink and dance some more.”

“I’ll allow the dancing, but I need to be a good babysitter right now and say no more drinking.”

She gave you a quick nod. “The logical side of me knows you’re right.”

Things got quiet for a second and in that moment of quiet you thought about Steve and Vanessa in the kitchen. It seemed as if all your brain wanted to do right then was play that moment on repeat. You could inwardly admit that the conversation had looked completely innocent and probably quite literally meant nothing, but for some reason, it still bothered you.

“A part of me wishes I got drunk with you,” You said to Robin with a sigh and leaned back into the chair.

She smiled at that and looked at you. “You definitely still can.”

Before you could answer, you heard the front door open and subsequently close, and then Steve’s voice filled the brief quiet. “Good. You found her.”

He handed one of the water bottles he was holding over to you. “I grabbed one for you too.”

He the. placed the other bottle in Robin’s lap and she gave him a small smile. “Thanks, dingus.”

If the circumstances were different and your thoughts weren’t confused and scattered, you would’ve shifted over a bit and made room for Steve on the small chair swing, and a random conversation would’ve played out for the next few minutes before you or he suggested leaving. But things weren’t different, so you didn’t.

Steve didn’t think too much of it, though. Instead, he simply asked, “Should we head out?”

You nodded, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah.”

He looked at Robin. “We’re taking you to our place, right?”

“Yes, please,” She answered, smiling. “You guys are great babysitters.”

She shut her eyes again and Steve looked at you, giving you a smile and you were quick to force one back. It was then that you could tell that he knew something was up with you because of the look he gave you in response to your forced smile, but he didn’t get to ask you what was going on because Robin was abruptly standing up and asking which way the car was.

It wasn’t until you all were finally in Steve’s car and driving away from the party— Robin fell asleep in the backseat almost immediately— that he finally asked.

“What’s wrong?”

You let the question linger in the air for a bit— keeping your eyes focused out the window and letting your fingers mindlessly fiddle with the zipper of your jacket— before you answered him.

“I don’t know…” You mumbled with a shrug and then you sighed and shook your head. “Actually, I do know, but it’s dumb. It’s stupid.”

His right hand moved off of the steering wheel and found one of yours. “You can tell me.”

You knew he was right, but that didn’t make being a thousand percent honest feel any easier in this moment.

“Vanessa was at the party,” You ultimately said, figuring that would be the easiest way to start the conversation.

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we talked for a second.”

“Yeah, I saw,” You said and wanted to end the conversation there, but you knew that you couldn’t. “It kinda annoyed me a bit.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, taking a quick look at you.

“I don’t know…” You sighed again. “Just seeing you guys talking was a little annoying, I guess.”

Things got quiet for a second, and that managed to make you get even more inside your head. Maybe Steve thought you were insane or he was even mad at you for feeling this way. This was entirely unchartered territory between you two, so you weren’t entirely sure what his reaction would be.

“Oh,” Steve said as if he was realizing something and then smiled a bit. “You were jealous.”

You immediately rolled your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

You used your free hand to gesture to his face. “With that smile on your face.”

“I think it’s cute that you were jealous,” He told you, pulling your intertwined hands up to his lips so that he could kiss the back of yours.

You shook your head. “No, it’s not.”

“It really is,” Steve said and you decided not to protest him that time around, looking out the window again.

“I love you, by the way,” He continued. “Just in case you forgot.”

That managed to finally get a smile out of you.

“I did forget, actually. Thank you for the reminder,” You joked and then turned to look at him. “I love you too.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Guiding a half-awake Robin from the car to your and Steve’s apartment was a feat in itself, but it somehow worked out. You two helped Robin into your bed instead of letting her take the couch and then you set a glass of water and ibuprofen on the nightstand because you had a feeling she’d need it in the morning.

You changed into your pajamas in Steve’s room, which simply consisted of a t-shirt that you had long ago stolen from Steve and a pair of shorts, and then both you and him settled into his bed.

He had fallen asleep pretty quickly and you thought, or more so hoped, that you would find sleep easily too, but instead, you tossed and turned in bed because you couldn’t seem to shut off your mind. You weren’t entirely sure why you were still feeling a little sulky and weird about everything— Steve didn’t care and he wasn’t upset with you for feeling jealous— but there was something still nagging at the back of your head about the whole thing.

“I know what you’re thinking right now,” You heard Steve sleepily mumble after what felt like an hour of you trying but failing to force yourself to sleep but it was probably only twenty minutes. His arm circled around your waist and he pulled you back against him. “And you should stop it.”

The fact that he could easily read your mind wasn’t surprising and it was probably the only thing that made you feel a little bit okay and made you want to at least attempt to verbalize the thoughts that had been running through your head.

“I just hate being like this. It feels so— I don’t know…” You were then squeezing your eyes shut and pressing your face into the pillow as you admitted, “When I saw you and her talking I really wanted to just go up and kiss you in front of her, so that she knew that we’re together and you’re mine.”

“Mm, you should’ve done that,” He mumbled into your neck. “That would’ve been really hot.”

You finally turned on your side to face him. “Shut up. I don’t know why I just admitted that, honestly. I told you this was stupid.”

“Don't feel embarrassed about it,” He said, somehow managing to sum it all up perfectly; you were feeling embarrassed. “This happens to me all the time.”

You laughed a little. “You don’t have to lie to try and make me feel better about how dumb I'm being.”

“I’m serious,” He told you. “Remember last Thursday when you came to Family Video during the last hour of mine and Robin’s shift?”

When you gave him a quick nod in response, he continued. “I was so annoyed watching you talk to that one guy.”

At first, you weren’t sure what guy he was talking about, but then it hit you. It had been the all too familiar situation where someone thought that you also worked at the store because you were the only one standing behind the counter since both Robin and Steve were stocking shelves. But even after you told this guy that you actually didn’t work there, he kept the conversation going and you laughed and smiled along for a bit to be nice before making up some excuse and retreating to the break room for the rest of Steve and Robin’s shift.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t seem annoyed at all, and we didn’t even talk about it.”

“Yeah, because for like two minutes I felt jealous, but then I remembered that I’m the one you’re with and nothing could change that— especially not some random blonde guy— so…” Steve trailed off with a shrug and smile.

As if flicking a light switch, his words changed everything for you. Once again, he was right; there was nothing that could change what you two had.

“And just so you know,” He continued, voice soft and quiet. “I always feel embarrassed and stupid about it after it happens too.”

You were smiling as you kissed him then, closing the small bit of distance between you two and finding his lips in the darkness that consumed his room.

“I can’t believe you’re turning out to be the rational one out of the two of us,” You joked when you pulled back from the kiss and proceeded to bury your face into his neck and completely entangle your body with his. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” He whispered back and pressed the softest kiss to your shoulder before he started to pull away from you. You immediately pouted at him in protest but he continued, pulling the blanket off of both of you and getting out of bed. “It’s only midnight. Let’s do what we were actually supposed to do tonight.”

Hearing him say that made you follow suit and get out of bed too, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Movies and Third Street?”

Steve was nodding as he walked over to you, arms slipping around your waist and pulling you close to him. “Yup.”

“That’s a great idea,” You whispered, looking up at him. “But, no funny business on the couch, though. The walls are way too thin and we’ll never hear the end of it from Robin if she hears anything.”

“Okay,” Steve said, and then proceeded to kiss your forehead and then both of your cheeks and then your neck; all of which made you softly laugh. “Sorry, just needed to get those out of the way first.”

You gave him an understanding nod that you hoped looked as serious as you wanted it to be, but there was a wide smile on your face as you spoke. “Okay, yeah, makes sense.”

He gave you one final kiss, that time against your lips, and then he was pulling away from you and heading toward his shut door. Your arms circled around him from behind as you followed him out into the living room.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff

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13uswntimagines · 5 months ago

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Safe Harbor (Alessia X Singer!R)

Summary: R is a very famous singer at the end of a very long, very crazy tour. Alessia is there to take care of her.

Warmings: Established D/s dynamics. The use of Daddy, and Collars. No smut.

You knew that you were living a dream.

You knew that millions of people would trade everything to be in the position you were in.

They would do anything to have stadiums scream their name and for their songs to play on the radio for the world to hear.

You had been plucked out of obscurity after you unsuspectingly played a bar in Leeds in front of Ed Sheeran when you were 16. A year and a half later you had taken Billboard's Hot 100 by storm, broken the record for most weeks at number one by a new artist… twice, and you were opening for Taylor Swift’s 1989 tour.

That had just been the beginning.

Now you were on your 3rd world tour, selling out stadiums for yourself, with one of the best-selling albums of all time.

It was… crazy that a kid from Maidstone who barely had enough to eat growing up had thousands of people screaming your name every night, singing your lyrics back to you like they were anthems.

Your music was raw, personal. Painfully autobiographical.

Your fans picked apart every lyric, dissecting your words with obsessive precision. The heartbreak, the loss, the fear woven into every track—they clung to it like it was their story, too. Before You Go, Say Something, Thinking Out Loud—each song became a window into your soul. And they were desperate to see more.

It was why your first album had gone platinum overnight, and every album after it had debuted at number 1.

They resonated with your honesty, and that’s what made people fall in love with it.

You had expected that part.

What you hadn’t expected was that they hadn’t just fallen in love with the music—they had fallen in love with you.

The girl with the sunny personality, and the commanding stage presence. The girl who smiled brightly at every meet-and-greet, made them laugh at every interview, and always took time to meet fans, even after long days in the studio or on music video sets. They built you up as their idol, their friend, their fantasy. They flirted with you in meet-and-greets before you were 18 and treated you like you belonged to them. Like they were entitled to every part of you.

At some point, you became an enigma—Y/N Y/L/N, the nine-time Grammy winner. The infallible pop star. The face that was painted on the side of billboards, and smiling in Colgate commercials.

At some point, just Y/n failed to exist to them, and you liked it that way.

You did well to dodge their invasive questions, running interviewers around in circles, and answering fans with witty remarks to avoid answering. And over the years (and through 4 albums), you only got better at preventing the fans from learning anything of substance about your private life. The only glimpses they got were through your music, and you liked to keep it that way.

You did your best to keep it that way.

The only time you let them get close, let the world peek behind the curtain, was during the piano set of your concerts.

It was dubbed the surprise song set by the fans even though 2 of 3 songs never changed. It was where you sang your most emotional songs, and where you let yourself be vulnerable. Open. Real.

Tonight was no different. Or at least, you were trying to convince yourself of that.

You sucked in a long breath, your fingers tracing the black and white keys as the final chords of Bruises echoed through the stadium, curling off the walls and over the crowd. Their energy buzzed around you, rolling like an ocean wave.

You could feel it crashing against your chest, adding to the adrenaline bubbling through your veins.

You took another deep breath, the air catching in your throat as you tried to control your breathing enough so you could talk. So you could give your signature speech before revealing the night's surprise song.

Maybe tonight was different.

You felt more… exposed.

More… vulnerable.

This year was nothing short of a whirlwind. Eighty sold-out shows across the U.S. in the summer, followed by another thirty in Europe and the UK. Three back-to-back number-one singles—no small feat—only knocked from the top spot after 18 weeks by Taylor Swift herself.

It was amazing and incredible and exhausting all rolled together.

You dearly loved your fans, their passion, and their devotion, but you were drained.

Your eyes slid closed, allowing the bone-deep weariness to cut through the buzz from the crowd for just a second as you pulled your fingers from the keys, briefly rubbing the leather braided bracelet around your wrist as you reset for the next song.

It was the closest thing you’d had to your girlfriend's touch in nearly 2 months, and it wasn’t nearly enough. One soft touch from her would make it all melt away.

One touch and she would take away the burden of control that had plagued you since you started the tour.

You would finally be able to let go and just be.

There were only 6 songs left and then you would be with her, your lighthouse on rocky seas. Your anchor on stormy nights.

You took another deep breath.

It was the last show of an incredible year, and you had something very very special planned.

Something no one would see coming.

Your eyes blinked open as the crowd noise dipped, and you painted your signature smirk on your face as you leaned back toward the mic.

“So Wembley, how are we feeling?” You asked into the microphone, smiling widely at the roar from the audience that met you. “Fantastic,”

You brought your fingers to the piano, letting them dance delicately across the keys. They had no particular rhythm, though they were in the key that your surprise song would be in.

You wanted to avoid giving the surprise away yet.

“So you know, I was thinking about what song I was going to play tonight, trying to figure out which one would be the perfect end to such an amazing tour,” You couldn’t help the little laugh that left you as the audience got impossibly louder, cheering out an indistinguishable mix of song titles that you had yet to play on this tour. You paused for a long second, feeling their cheers only grow, popping your in-ear monitor out for effect.

It was endearing really, how into it they got (especially when you found out that they had created an entire fantasy league about what version of your outfits you would wear and what songs you would sing). They made it easy to pretend like you were having the time of your life instead of fantasizing about what you would be doing in 40 minutes.

You shook your head, popping the monitor back into your ear and your fingers returning to the keys, letting their chants fill you up, and drive you forward.

“And I was talking to one of my favorite people,” You continued, starting to pick out a tune that was a bit closer to the song you were going to play. “Now you all know I don’t normally take requests, but this being the final night of the Eclipse World Tour, and with such special guests in the audience I couldn’t quite say no,”

Your eyes instinctually found Alessia as you hit the opening chord, and though you could see her expression you could feel her gaze burning into you.

Seeing through you.

Even surrounded by people, her attention was the only one you craved.

“It’s a song I haven’t played for a long time, so I’m going to need your help.” You continued, Never breaking eye contact with her. “Will you help me tonight Wembley?”

The crowd roared in approval, and goosebumps erupted on your skin at the sheer energy they projected at you. It filled your chest and fueled your fingers as you finally hit the signature piano riff that opened the song.

You flashed the crowd your signature smirk, all essence of yourself slipping beneath your on-stage persona.

And when you opened your mouth to sing the first line; it felt easy. It felt right.

Have you ever fed a lover with just your hands

Closed your eyes and trusted

Just trusted

*****

Watching you perform was magic.

It had always been magic.

Whether it was a show in Wembley in front of 100,000 people, or one when you were small with a guitar the same size as you, Alessia had always been mesmerized by you. Even before the two of you were old enough to put names to what you were feeling.

It didn’t matter that she had seen you play thousands (hundreds of thousands) of times, nor that this was not her first time attending one of the shows on this tour.

She leaned forward on the barricade separating the VIP tent from the Floor sections as you began to play the piano break.

“She’s incredible,” Leah said, leaning closer to Alessia to be heard above the crowd. “They’re eating out of the palm of her hand,”

Alessia hummed. “She is,”

The audience was glued to every move, every breath you took on stage. She was too, and so were all of her teammates.

What made it even better was that you were hers, and she got to enjoy you from her favorite seat in the house.

They hadn’t originally been slated to be in the VIP tent.

Viv had organized the tickets, picking an area on the 2nd balcony because they were the only ones left. Alessia had gone along with it, only mentioning to you that 800$ was crazy for a 2nd tier balcony ticket in passing.

You had sleepily agreed, cursing Ticketmaster and reminding Alessia of the 10-hour meetings you had endured when your fans crashed the site during pre-sale. You hadn’t said anything about it since, so she assumed you had forgotten.

You did not forget.

There had been a team waiting to escort them when they arrived, and you had made sure the tent was loaded with all of their favorites. You had also refunded the tickets, and given them away to 23 fans outside of the stadium.

You liked to do things for her. It was a way for you to serve her even from a distance, and she enjoyed telling you how good you were afterward.

She definitely had plans to do that tonight.

She leaned forward on the barrier as you got to the final chorus.

There was a reason this spot was always her favorite to watch the show from, and why she had been hesitant when they escorted her and her friends to the tent.

They were close to the stage. Close enough that Alessia could see the cracks in your carefully crafted facade.

She could see the dark circles under your eyes, and how your smile never met your eyes. She could see the slight curl of your shoulders, and how you kept twisting your bracelet tightly around your wrist.

She could see the command you had of the crowd wearing on you, and just how in your head you were.

All of her instincts told her to protect you. To wrap you up, and take the reigns so you could just exist without thinking. So you could submit and know that she would take care of you.

And sure, her teammates had caught glimpses of the dynamic between the two of you, but you both liked to keep the heavier aspects to yourselves.

It was harder for her to do that when she had watched the toll this tour had taken on you, and knew just how close you were to being able to let go.

“Is it just me or does she look shattered,” Katie asked as the song came to an end, the final note ringing around the stadium as your eyes once again closed and you sucked in air through your nose.

Alessia didn’t take her eyes away from you. “Not just you,”

She followed the rapid rise and fall of your chest, and how your fingers silently fluttered over the keys before you began to play again.

“She’s barely slept at all this week because of end-of-tour meetings,” Alessia continued as you began picking out a new tune. “And she’s been co-producing an album that comes out next month, so she’s barely had time to think, much less do anything else.”

Leah hummed from her other side. “I’m just surprised you haven’t stepped in yet.”

Alessia made a low sound in the back of her throat.

It was… complicated.

While Alessia had rules that you followed (even while you were on tour) to help protect both your physical and mental health, you both had boundaries when it came to your careers.

She understood that you had responsibilities and that sometimes you had to prioritize work to make everything run smoothly. (She also secretly relished watching you in boss mode, knowing that you would be kneeling at her feet later.)

The agreement you had was that she would only interfere under 2 conditions. First, if you crossed the Limits the two of you had agreed upon years ago without communicating with Alessia first. Second, if you asked.

“Tonight I will,” Alessia said as your eyes opened and you leaned back towards the microphone, your fingers dancing along the keys.

“Since we have the incredible women of Arsenal in the audience tonight, I think there’s one more song we have to do before continuing the show,”

The audience roared in response.

Your smile was charming, even as your eyes danced vacantly across the screaming fans in the pit next to the small stage that held your piano.

Alessia could imagine the edits that would be online later, the people swearing that your expression was solely meant for them. They would think the way you twisted your bracelet was to show them how much you liked the copies they wore.

She shook her head.

The chords under your fingers changed, shifting into another familiar tune.

North London Forever

Whatever the Weather

You pulled back from the microphone, tilting your head to the sky as the fans picked up the song all around you.

The stage lights swelled around you, illuminating the crowd as they sang for you. Your fingers deftly played the background music for the song.

She could understand why it was a tradition for you. Why you always added North London Forever to the last show of your tours, especially when you ended in London.

And my heart will leave you never

My blood will forever

Goosebumps erupted on her skin as the crowd of 100,000 sang the rest of the chorus, and pride swelled in her chest, replacing her worry for just a moment.

You wouldn’t have done a sing along if you were too far gone.

Your relationship was built on trust, and Alessia trusted that you were ok for now. She would step in when the show was over, and you were ready.

****

“Thank you London,”

The final notes of Shut Up and Dance pounded through the stadium.

You held your arms out wide, as if to physically soak in their cheers as the stage lights dimmed, leaving only one shining against your back, silhouetting you for the audience In a perfect replica of your album cover. Then everything went dark, and the platform you had been standing on lowered so you were under the stage.

“Great show Y/n,” Your tour manager, Aubrey, said as you stepped off the lift, the crowd noise barely fading.

You nodded in response, your tongue suddenly feeling too heavy in your mouth to form words. it felt like you were trying to think through an old television with terrible reception, the images staticy and broken. Fatigue settled into your bones, heavy and cold.

A soft robe was draped over your shoulders by one of the production crew, and you twisted the bracelet around your wrist until the edges cut into your skin.

You focused on the pain, letting it ground you as you put one foot in front of the other and allowed your team to guide you from beneath the stage.

your security team flanked you the second you were out from under the stage, acting like a protective wall.

“You need to rehydrate.” Steve, your head of security said, pressing a blue Gatorade into your fingers.

They instinctively closed around the bottle, and Steve nudged you again to get you to bring it to your lips.

“Small sips kid,” Clint added from your other side, as the third member of your security team, Natasha, made eye contact with Steve

You tried to follow their directions, but your hands were shaking so badly you almost dropped the drink.

You felt Powerful.

You felt… floaty.

It was so… weird. It usually took you hours to come down from the high of a show, and devolve into… whatever this was.

To finally give in and call your girlfriend for help.

You had been… reluctant to bother her in the last few weeks.

She had been busy with international friendlies, and you didn’t exactly like exploring your dynamic while you were separated.

Dropping into sub space was hard for you on a good day, guided by Alessia‘s firm but comforting presence. Doing it while the two of you were doing long distance was a painful impossibility.

The few times it had actually worked were misery for you. Like your brain was made of broken glass and no one was there to help you knit the fractured shards back together.

Even with her voice on the other end of a video call, it had been brutal.

You had put it off, and put it off, and now it seemed that your body wasn’t going to give you a choice.

“I’ll be back.” Natasha said, turning on her heel as Steve shifted to shield you from the people buzzing around backstage.

You didn’t even acknowledge her, blinking slowly as cling helped you bring the bottle of Gatorade to your lips.

“Take deep breaths.” Clint said gently. “We have to get to the tunnel.”

You tried, but it was like you were under water, or sucking air through a straw.

You were crashing, and you still had to face the public one last time before you could let go.

You swallowed hard, forcing the fog in your brain away and your signature smirk on your face.

It would satisfy the people waiting for you to make your way out from behind the stage and into the safety of the stadium halls, away from prying eyes.

“Let’s go.” You muttered, pushing the Gatorade back towards Steve.

It took all of your strength just to utter the word, and you knew it would take every bit of mental fortitude you had to wave at the fans as you passed.

But it was required.

It was the least you could do for the people who bought obstructed view seats. A thing you had done for every one of your other shows. A thing fans would absolutely notice if you didn’t do it.

It didn’t matter how much you didn’t want to.

“Let’s do it.” Clint agreed, positioning his hand on the small of your back, while Steve did the same on your other side.

You straightened and squared your shoulders.

You could do this one last act for your fans. Then you could let go.

*******

“That show is incredible,” Beth said, leaning against the VIP barricade. “I don’t know how she runs around like that for 3 and a half hours,”

“A lot of cardio,” Leah shrugged. “She released a whole behind the scenes video of how she trained for the tour.”

“That video felt staged though.” Viv said. “She was very different then she usually is with us, or you Less,”

The English striker hummed. “She likes to keep separation between her professional life and her private life.”

“Makes sense.” Katie agreed. “Did you see how many people had braided bracelets in all different colors?”

“I did.” Alessia nodded, her eyes trailing across the area near the stage, looking for your personal assistant. “But they have no clue what hers actually means. You all know her, but the fans just know the idea of her. It’s easier to keep it all separated.”

It was strange that she hadn’t seen your assistant yet. That she hadn’t come to retrieve her and the team.

Chloe was usually waiting at the VIP tent to take her backstage before the last fireworks of the show had even finished.

It had alarm bells swirling in her brain.

“It’s kind of amazing how confident she is on stage.” Beth agreed. “It’s like she’s 2 different people.”

“Sometimes she is.” Alessia trailed off spotting a different redhead coming around the stage. Your security instead of your assistant.

It was hard to wrap her head around the dichotomy between your loud, confident persona on stage and the quiet girl she knew you were, and as your career grew, that difference had only gotten larger.

Her eyebrows furrowed as Natasha approached them, nodding towards her friends before meeting her eyes. “I need to borrow you, please,”

Katie whistled. “Get it Lessie,”

“Gotta get that post concert energy out,” Kyra snickered, and the tear erupted into laughter behind her.

She shot a glare towards her cackling team. “Of course,”

Natasha was a part of your personal security. She didn’t need words to convey that you needed Alessia, and you needed her now.

“Alone please,” Natasha said, her eyes flickering towards the girls who tried to exit the tent with Alessia.

The laughter stopped around them, and Alessia nodded once, turning back towards the team.

“We’ll catch up with you lot tomorrow?” Alessia said, authority that the team rarely heard leaking into her tone. “We can do lunch, or maybe Dinner.”

Leah stepped forward and nodded, knowing this was not the time to argue with her. “Tell y/n thank you for the tickets and that we send our love,”

“Go take care of your superstar,” Beth nodded towards Natasha.

“I will,” Alessia nodded, stepping out of the tent.

She meant it.

You had taken care of yourself for most of the tour. It was her turn now.

******

You didn’t remember how you got to your dressing room. You didn’t remember waving to the fans, smiling widely and sending them hand hearts.

one second you were backstage, and then you blinked and Steve was gently closing the dressing room door behind you.

You paced the room, pushing the dark robe off of your shoulders. You didn't know what to do with yourself.

It was too warm and too cold. The dress shirt you wore on stage was too soft and too scratchy. Your mind was racing too fast and moving too slow all at once.

your breathing hitched, and you brought your trembling fingers of one and to your lips to prevent the sobs threatening to bubble out. The other tugged useless at your collar, trying to get air. This was not normal. It was rare you dropped, let alone this hard or this deep.

It was like quicksand, sucking you into the chaotic spiral deeper, faster, with more force the more you tried to fight it. Your thoughts were a jumbled mess, and your brain was going to rip itself apart trying to untangle them.

You were in free fall, plummeting faster than you ever had before with no net to catch you. You had put it off for too long, and now you had no choice.

You knew you needed to do something, but making the decision of what you should do felt impossible.

You were done making decisions for the foreseeable future.

The sound of the door clicking open and shut again was nearly drowned out by the buzzing in your ears, but you Instinctively turned towards the presence that entered.

The air shifted around her as she stood in front of you like a mirage, immediately capturing all of your attention. For just a split second, your racing thoughts went quiet, and you were wholly consumed by her presence. It crackled like a warm fire on a cold day, or like a lightning storm over the sea. You couldn't decide.

You didn’t want to decide.

And you knew you didn’t need to.

Alessia- No, your Daddy was here and she would take care of everything.

Her gaze swept over you, taking in every twitch of your fingers against the buttons of your shirt, and the tremble that snaked its way across your shoulders and down your spine. You felt naked, despite the clothing scratching at your skin.

She crossed the room in 3 long strides, her hands catching your wrist before you even registered that she had moved.

”That’s enough, little one.” She said, keeping her voice gentle despite the command clear in it. “You’ve done so well, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m here now.”

She carefully unwound your fingers from here they were tearing at your shirt, placing them on her hips before deftly undoing the buttons. “I’ve got you. Just take deep breaths for me, love,”

You tried, but it felt like it was stuck in your throat, trapped by the inhuman sound now bubbling past your lips.

She carefully slid the thin material of your shirt from your shoulders, and you met her eyes.

The sob you’d been holding in finally broke free, your knees weakening as the weight of it all hit you. But before you could completely crumble, Alessia’s arms were around you, pulling you into her chest. Her scent, her warmth, everything about her surrounded you like a safety net.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, and she rested her cheek on the top of your head. “You’ve done so well, you can relax now. I’m here with you and I’m not going anywhere,”

Her other hand ran soothing circles on your back, easing the prickles on your skin like the world's best Aloe. “Just breathe, love.”

Her comforting touch seeped past your skin, settling deep into your bones. It eased the knotted panic in your chest, and dulled the sharp, frantic edges of anxiety that raced through you.

“That’s it little one,” She cooed, her grip on your firm and unyielding. It was tether to reality. An anchor in the crashing storm that was your mind. A lifeline when you were being pulled beneath the tide.

“You’re safe. You’re here with me, and I will always keep you safe. Just relax,”

Her voice was as steady as her grip on you. Commanding in a way that couldn’t be ignored, but soft enough that it didn’t bristle your sensitive instincts. It was a mixture that only Alessia seemed to be able to achieve. A tone she could modulate to perfectly match the situation.

You melted into her chest, nodding weakly as your tears slowed. Your entire body shuttered with each inhale, and hitched with each breath you blew out.

You were moving past the uncomfortable phase of the drop where your brain felt like a shattered glass mirror, fractured and sharp, and into the lapping warmth that only Alessia seemed to be able to bring you.

Alessia’s hands continued their slow, comforting path up and down your back, her breath even and calm, giving you a rhythm to sync your own to.

“That’s it, little one,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re such a good girl for me. You’ve done so well. Just let it all go.”

You whimpered.

It felt too raw, too exposed. But Alessia knew—she always knew.

Her fingers tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet her gaze. Her eyes were soft, but her tone left no room for argument.

“Look at me.” She said, using a finger to gently tilt your chin up. “You’ve done so well being in charge. You’ve run this entire tour, and made so many people happy. I’m so proud of you, but you can let go now. Let me be in charge for a little while,” She capped the statement with a gentle peck to your lips.

You tried to lean in to continue the kiss, but she pulled away.

“Later,” She promised, and you nodded once, sinking back into her chest.

You understood that she didn’t like to start anything while you were like this unless it was well discussed beforehand. While there was any chance that you couldn’t consent, or feel like you could remove consent.

You weren’t sure how long she stood there and held you, rocking gently from side to side and scratching your scalp. Long enough for the storm in your chest to mellow and for your brain to slowly begin knitting itself back together, grounded in the gentle pressure of your girlfriend. Your daddy.

“Let’s get cleaned up and then we can go home,” She said, when you pulled back enough to look at her. “Do you want your collar?”

you nodded against her chest, kissing gently under her chin.

“I need a verbal response, little one,” She said, dominance leaking into her tone to help you wade through the thick fog coating the crevices of your brain.

It took you a long second to think of the words, and another to push the fog in your mind back enough to actually verbalize them.

“Yes Daddy,” You said, frowning at how horse and garbled your voice was.

she hummed, carefully maneuvering you back towards the door. One hand stayed securely wrapped around you as the other reached into the bag you hadn’t seen her enter with and pulled out your soft, brown leather collar.

You hadn’t seen it since you left for tour, and just the sight was almost enough to send you back into a drop.

“Easy,” Alessia murmured, guiding you towards the couch that existed in all of your dressing rooms. She sat you on the edge, and kneeled in front of you so she was slightly shorter than you.

She trailed her hand down your arm to the bracelet around your wrist, carefully unclasping it and tucking it into her pocket. She then brought the soft leather of your regular collar to your neck, gently buckling it closed, making sure it wasn’t too tight.

Your shoulders immediately relaxed, the full weight of her claim settling on you.

“Let’s get cleaned up,” She said, catching your hand and standing you up. You went with her easily, leaning your weight on her as she led you to the bathroom.

The way she undressed you both and got you settled into the warm water of the shower was familiar, routine even.

You could feel yourself settling as she washed your hair, and cleaned your body of the sweat from the show.

She touched you like you were delicate, but not like you were fragile, and it was everything you needed to wade back to reality.

By the time she was using a towel to dry you off, and slipping one of her old UNC sweatshirts over your head you felt almost like yourself again. Your thoughts didn’t hurt anymore, and you were more grounded then you had been.

“Kneel for me,” She said softly, settling herself on the couch, and placing a pillow at her feet.

You hummed, and did as she asked, letting her guide you to lean back on her legs.

You sunk into the warmth of her sweatshirt, surrounded by the scent of her perfume as she toweled off your hair and braided It for you.

The rhythmic movement of her fingers through your hair and the feeling of safety and Alessia that encompassed you were enough to have your eyelids drooping.

You blinked heavily at the knock that sounded on the door, and the blonde head of your head of security poking his head in.

Steve didn’t look at you, steadfastly keeping his eyes on Alessia. “Miss Russo, we have the car ready whenever you are ready to leave.”

“Thank you, Steven,” She said softly, authority still dripping from her tone. “We’ll be out in a few minutes,”

He nodded and closed the door quietly as he exited.

“You’re all done, little one,” Alessia said, rubbing gentle circles in your shoulders, as you leaned further into her, your eyes sliding closed without your permission.

They only opened when she shifted behind you, and you turned to look at her sleepily.

She smiled gently at you, unable to stop herself from leaning in and pressing a quick peck to your lips.

This was her favorite version of you, soft and sleepy, unguarded and completely trusting. It was the version that only she got to see, and she was honored that you had chosen her to be your safe place.

”Alright little one,” She said, her finger hooked into the O-ring at the front of your collar, tugging lightly as she stood. “Let’s go home,”

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alessia russo imagine #alessia russo x reader #Safe Harbor Universe

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spliffymae · 11 months ago

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rapper!onyankopon.

just some head canons i have.

in my head im imagining a blend of dave and fridayy, where he can sing as well (he got variety!). same universe as my musicproducer!connie fic but reader is not famous here, as opposed to w/ connie’s. (lol i gave her a last name too—davis.) in my mind, im picturing ony from the uk and connie from ny.

★　*　　°　　　　🛰 　°. 🌓　•　　.°•　　　🚀

rapper!ony who first pops up on the scene in a music video of his friend connie’s song. he wasn’t featured on the track, but rather just in the background getting hype with everyone else.

but y’all know how the girlies get when a fine black man/woman/person start trending.

rapper!ony who wasn’t shy about his craft, but just wasn’t big on social media. his agent hated it, he loved it. he simply released music, let people know, and then went about his business.

rapper!ony was trending and although he didn’t take this as an opportunity to get in his social media bag, his best friend, musicproducer!connie did!

rapper!ony who goes from a couple thousand people knowing what he does to over a million people screaming his lyrics at they’re phones on tiktok in ONE night.

“bro, you can’t even get mad at me gang!” connie yelled from his shower. ony was sitting outside, accosting his friend for what he did. “you said you didn’t care what happened to the project!”

“but tell me if you gon post it and make it a whole thing, nigga damn!” ony yelled back.

rapper!ony who now has to adjust to his quickly rising popularity. he has yet to know the number of artists looking for a feature; and he doesn’t know that he secretly has some of these industry boys shaking in their boots because where the hell he come from?

no, rapper!ony is too busy focusing on whyyy they’re a million fan edits of him across tiktok and instagram. clips of him from his streams, connie’s videos, and his other friend’s content.

ony groans as connie’s message banner pops up on his phone, the message being a link to a tiktok. when he clicked it, it was a fan edit of him using his song ‘when it comes to you’. “bro, who keeps sending these to you, man?!” ony exclaimed. connie heard it from his room and snickered.

rapper!ony who had to adjust to being the attention at these red carpet events. he usually just walked behind connie and his girl, along with the rest of the entourage but now he is getting stopped for photographs.

there’s nothing like listening to music live. so rapper!ony puts on a fake smile and pushes through the crowded carpet to get inside. he waves to people he’s worked with, artists, and fans who called out to him. all so he can hear some music.

he sees connie holding hands with his girlfriend, both of them making goofy faces at the cameras. he softly smiles at the couple, but before he could make way, connie somehow senses him and turns to him “ony! ven aquí!” damn!

rapper!ony who doesn’t expect much from the awards show. just to go, support connie, and go home. he was nominated,yeah, but he was also in the category with some of the most popular artists right now…so he wasn’t feeling all that confident.

rapper!ony who is shocked as shocked can be when his name is called from the podium for best new artist.

“F**CK YEAH!” connie yelled, jumping up from his seat along with his girl and the rest of the table—aran, zora, jean, armin, and mikasa.

rapper!ony who walks up on stage with connie who is still screaming from excitement.

“uhhh, i’m not gonna lie, mans weren’t expecting to win still.” ony laughed, running a hand over his fresh waves. the audience laughed with him.

“first i would like to thank God, the most high who has blessed me with this amazing opportunity. i want to thank my people for having my back; connie—this man,” ony pointed behind him to connie, who was full out filming the moment on his phone.

“who told me on a random day when we were cleaning out our college dorm room that if we made a project together we would be the new heartthrobs of the generation. connie i thank you for being you; having my back and working alongside me. my brother for life, that is.” connie screamed, and so did his girlfriend from the audience as the claps poured in.

“and finally, i want to thank my heart in human form. the woman who made all of this possible, y/n davis. she don’t like the attention so im gonna hear bout this name drop when i get home. but babes, i love you, and thank you for being my rib. i owe you the world and more. and to her parents, thank you for my better half. thank you lot again. love!” ony raised his hand with the award, smiling and waving to the crowd and cameras as he walked to the back.

meanwhile, across the country, cuddled up in her bed was y/n, who was watching the award show before going to sleep. she had expressed to ony she wasn’t too sure about going, not liking the cameras and attention. he reassured her it was okay because there wasn’t any way he would be winning with who else was in the category.

so…safe to say when you saw your boyfriend on the stage with the award in his hand, you could not contain your shock and excitement. you jumped out of bed screaming and quickly getting to your phone camera to record the tv. squeals and “yeah baby” was all you could say as he gave connie his thanks.

but then… when you heard him say your name, for everyone around the world to hear, everything just turned to shock as your phone fell from your frozen hands, still recording. you were stunned. he said your name. your government name. on national television.

“ONY!!!”

#🌞🍃spliffymae #ony x black reader #ony x y/n #rapper!ony #music producer connie #au #anime x black!reader #aot x black reader #attack on titan #onyankopon #onyankopon x black!reader #aot

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thisapplepielife · 1 month ago

Text

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles.

Who's the Dad?

Prompt Day 31: Midnight | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: None | Tags: Modern AU, Established Steddie, Middle Age, Steddie as Parents, TikTok Trend, Platonic Stobin, Corroded Coffin Guys, Goodie Doesn't Want to Hold That Baby, New Year's Eve Fun is Different When You're Older

"Why am I holding this baby?" Goodie asks, taking Betts from Robin and awkwardly holds her up in the air under her arms. Looking right at her, as if he's willing her not to cry.

She doesn't, but Betts is highly suspicious of this arrangement.

Goodie is too, apparently. He might cry first.

Eddie laughs, "That's your niece. Act like you've met before."

They're gonna have to set this to music, and hope the lip-reading lady doesn't come along and expose them.

Steve is recording on Robin's phone, falling victim to another tiktok trend, but he can't wait to see if the internet can guess who her dad is. Especially since she has two. They're kind of cheating, but that just makes it more fun.

They pass her to Jeff next, and Jeff does better, but grins as he passes her back, "I think that I might be the obviously incorrect answer."

Eddie laughs, "Adoption, man. Lots of options. Just act cool."

Steve's not sure any of them can be cool. Not anymore. They're too old for that.

"Why are we doing this again?" Goodie asks, hovering behind Jeff, as if he's scared he might be handed her again.

"Because we're bored. And old. And if we want to stay awake for midnight to ring in the new year we need to be entertained for the next four hours," Steve explains.

New Year's Eve isn't as wild as it once was, that's for damn sure.

As soon as Gareth walks in the front door, Steve is filming as Robin immediately hands Betts over to him. Gareth takes her with one hand, gripping her little thigh as he holds her securely to his side.

Then he looks around at them looking at him, "Why are you all looking at me?"

Everybody just laughs.

Betts isn't paying much attention to Gareth, but she's used to him. Gareth's girls are older, and he's definitely been hands-on to get his baby fix from a kid he can hand back when she starts to cry or needs a diaper change.

Eddie gets his turn, making her laugh and Steve thinks it's very cute. Then Eddie takes the camera for Steve to have his. Betts pays exactly no attention to him, preferring to look over his shoulder at everyone else in the crowded house.

Then they keep moving: Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Will, Jonathan, Argyle. The video's gonna be ten minutes long at this rate.

Robin posts it, the clock strikes midnight, and Steve doesn't think anything of it. Not really.

But when he wakes up in the new year, they've gone viral. Really viral. Thousands of comments are full of guesses, some right, some wrong. And lots and lots of thirst that's spread around to all of them. It's…a lot. It's a lot.

Eddie's already scrolling through them before Steve's even found his glasses.

"Why do they think Gareth is her dad before they think it's me?" Eddie asks, indignant.

"They don't not think it's you. There are lots of offers to birth your baby if she isn't yours," Steve argues. And there are. Some of these comments are filthy.

"Everybody thinks it's you, and if not you, then Gareth," Eddie says, still complaining.

He's not totally wrong.

"They only think it's me because they've dug through Robin's profile. They're cheating," Steve says.

"No, they think Betts looks the most comfortable with you!" Eddie says, and Steve is afraid this is gonna turn ugly, quick. She wasn't uncomfortable with Eddie, she was being entertained. Of course she was looking at him.

Steve needs to diffuse this, but Eddie keeps going, "Elizabeth. How could you?"

He's so dramatic. Steve loves him, but it's too early for this.

"You were making her laugh. Of course she was gonna be looking at you," Steve suggests, trying to keep this from becoming an issue.

"Well, what about Gareth?!" Eddie says, shrill, poking at the screen of his phone.

"Gareth has kids. They had twins, Ed. He's incapable of being uncomfortable holding a baby, it was beaten out of him by overexposure. He could hold two babies at once. One is nothing."

Eddie laughs, but Steve can tell his feelings are a little hurt. They shouldn't have done this, but it just seemed like silly fun. Especially to see the uncomfortable ones, like Goodie and Mike, struggle to look like they've ever held a baby before.

Some of the guesses for Steve were because she paid no attention to him. He's old news. But a lot of them honestly were people digging into Robin's profile, seeing that he is heavily featured, but not watching the videos to see that they are best friends, not a couple.

Yeah, she was comfortable in his arms, and had no reason to check him out to make sure she wasn't gonna get dropped on her head. Gareth had the same vibes.

Eddie had decided to entertain her, and the audience, and that certainly worked against him. It charmed everyone, and Betts was clearly comfortable with him, but they weren't sure she was his, because of it.

"They think she looks like you," Eddie says.

Steve laughs, "Well, we all know that's not true."

Eddie finally laughs, the crisis averted, and rolls closer to Steve. Steve wraps his arms around him, pulling him in tight.

Betts starts crying through the monitor on the nightstand.

"I think you should go, as her favorite," Eddie says, burying his face into Steve's pillow.

Yeah, yeah. He'll take one for the team. Eddie gets today to whine about this, but that's all. That's it.

Steve stands, and throws a t-shirt over his head, and heads for the bedroom door, "That's fine. I'll go continue to woo her to my side. As the favorite."

Eddie lays there for a second, and when he finally processes it, he says, "Hey! Wait a minute!"

And Steve just laughs as he closes the bedroom door behind him. This will fix itself by noon. Guaranteed.

If you want to write your own, or go see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

Notes: If you've seen this trend on tiktok it is generally pretty easy to tell who is the dad! I think the secret is don't look at who the baby looks like, look at how they're being held and if they are curious about the situation they've found themselves in, lol.

#steddieholidaydrabbles #prompt: midnight #steddie #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steddie fan fic #steddie fic #stranger things #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: steddieholidaydrabbles #platonic stobin #gareth stranger things

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amirasainz · 7 months ago

Note

Could you write where baby!sainz is a performer like Beyoncé or Megan Thee Stallion and she just went on tour and one of her songs she gives out a lap dance and one of the younger drivers (Lance/Logan/Zhou/Oscar) is the one getting lap dance and everyone else is jealous

Or since Lando has filmed a couple of videos with the sidemen maybe one of the boys flirt with her or get her in a sidemen Sunday where they’re her butlers for a day/week or they’re doing a 20 vs 1 and the boys are apart of the 20 and they’re wives/gfs are fangirling

Hope those made sense

Sooo, I never saw Megan Thee Stallion's performance. However, I adjusted things, so.....Enjoy!!! Let me know if you have any whishes!

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

She's dancing like a stripper

Oscar couldn't believe it. Bright lights blinded him, the screams of the thousands of fans making his ears ring. The metal chair he was sitting on was vibrating from the guitar bass. Everything was starting to become too much, when his vision was filled with an angel. She was starring at him, a playful smile on her lips. Instead of wearing her sparkly dress, she now wore a skimpy outfit. Her high-heels brought her closer to him, her hands landing softly on his shoulders.

"Sidney, are you ready for the final?" Amira asked, turning her upper body towards the screaming crowd. The yelled so loud, that Amira slightly winced from the volume. "Because this was such an requested song, I will now sing "Favourite". But as you all know, this song has a special dance as well. And who could help me better, than our home-boy Oscar?" The crowd went wilde. They all knew that "special dance" was just a sweeter term for lap dance.

When the music picked up, Oscar's hands started sweating. Amira slowly lowered herself on his lap, his veiny hands immediately landing on her tights. When she started rocking herself on his lap, a low groan left his lips. Amira's hands brought his head closer to her breast. Before he could get too lost in his thoughts, Amira went of his lap.

She walked three steps away from him, some pf her backup dancers following her. She fell on her knees, spreading her legs. Two of her backup dancers, Sarah and Cheyenne, touched her body from behind. Sarah was busy touching her upper body, while Cheyenne ran her hands on the inside of her tights. Both of the girls brought their heads closer to the girl. Because their breaths tickled her, she had to laugh slightly.

When the refrain started, she crawled on her hands a bit, giving Oscar the perfect view of her ass. She lied on her upper body, ass in the air, when she turned on her back. Amira arched her back, spreading her legs once again. 'God, she's killing me here' was Oscars only thought. He gripped the armrest tightly when he saw Amira approaching again.

This time she sat down on his lap with her back turned towards his. She brought one of his hands very, very close to her privat parts, while she brought the other one on her neck. Her hand fisted his hair, brining him to her neck. Before he could stop himself, Oscar started kissing her neck. He slowly trailed his lips to her cheeks, moaning quietly in her ear. After a moment he realised that her hip movement spelled the word "coconut". God, this girl was truly something else.

When the song neared his end, Amira turned her face to Oscar, Their lips where close to touching. Before something more could happen, the roar of the crowd interrupted their little moment. Amira got up and smiled at all of the fans. She turned to Oscar, hugging him and whispering her thanks. With a Ferrari red face, Oscar left the stage. He really needed a cold shower now.

Bonus (+)

"No, this is unfair. This is so fucking unfair" muttered Logan, his eyes fixed on the couple on stage. Lando was standing next to him, his mouth agape. How the fuck did his teammate get so lucky? Shouldn't he, as the older one of the two, be the one to receive the lap dance? Charles, George, Alex and Pierre were busy filming the whole thing for their girlfriends, while also enjoying the show. Yuki as well enjoyed the show, while snacking on some crisps. All of them were so intrudged that they let out some noise of complaint when the show ended. After a moment, George stated: "Thank fuck that Carlos is sick today", receiving nods from the others.

#formula 1 #baby!sainz!sister #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #pierre gasly x reader #george russell x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargent x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #carlos sainz x sister!reader

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writingbuckets · 18 days ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯𝐢𝐢𝐢

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 5.5k

a/n: second to last part, yip yip!! i do have some ideas for one shots based in the universe that i'm really excited to write!!!

The past few months had been nothing short of blissful. Waking up to Paige’s warm smile, the mornings spent tangled in each other’s arms, and the quiet, stolen moments before the world came knocking—everything felt perfect. Despite the pressures of her rising basketball stardom and your climb in the podcasting world, the two of you had created a safe haven where fame and expectations couldn’t touch you.

It wasn’t just the big, romantic gestures—though Paige’s surprise road trips and thoughtful gifts were nothing to scoff at. It was the little things that made your relationship feel unshakable: the way she instinctively reached for your hand in crowded rooms, the way her laughter filled the silence when you shared dumb inside jokes, and the way she always managed to make you feel like the most important person in her orbit.

Of course, there had been challenges. Navigating the complexities of her public life and your desire for privacy was never easy, but you’d always found a way to meet in the middle. Paige was fiercely protective of you, and while the occasional paparazzi photo or speculative headline was frustrating, it never felt like more than a passing inconvenience.

You thought you’d found a balance—a way to thrive as individuals while building something meaningful together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. And for a while, that had been enough.

Until now.

The soft hum of music played in the background as you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Paige rinse the dishes from dinner. It had been her turn to cook, and she’d outdone herself with a recipe she’d picked up from the internet.

“I’m just saying,” Paige began, flashing you a teasing grin over her shoulder, “you were a little too impressed for something that came out of a fifteen-second video.”

You laughed, crossing your arms as you leaned back. “What can I say? I’m easily won over by good food.”

Paige shook her head, setting the last plate in the drying rack before wiping her hands on a towel. “Noted. Food’s the way to your heart. Got it.”

As she turned to face you, she stepped closer, her damp hands finding your waist. Her touch was casual, intimate, like it had been a thousand times before, but it still sent warmth spreading through you.

“You’re lucky I let you in my kitchen,” you teased, your hands sliding up to rest on her shoulders.

“Oh, please,” she replied, smirking. “Your kitchen loves me. It told me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. Moments like these—light, easy, filled with laughter—were what you cherished most about being with her. Just the two of you in your little world, where nothing else mattered.

Paige’s arms tightened around your waist, and you rested your chin on her shoulder, savoring the quiet hum of her presence. The faint chatter of the TV in the background barely registered as she pulled you closer.

“You know,” she said, voice soft with mock seriousness, “we could just cancel all our plans forever and do this every night.”

“Tempting,” you replied, smiling into her collarbone, “but you’d get bored of me eventually.”

“Never.” Paige leaned back just enough to meet your eyes, her expression earnest.

Before you could respond, the sound of the TV caught your attention. A familiar jingle—ESPN’s sports coverage—signaled the beginning of a new segment. You pulled away slightly, glancing at the screen, where a panel of analysts were deep in discussion.

“…and with the Women’s NBA Draft just around the corner, all eyes are on Paige Bueckers,” one of them said, a glossy headshot of Paige flashing onto the screen. “She’s the clear favorite for the number-one pick, and teams across the country are already vying for the chance to have her on their roster.”

Paige let out a soft laugh, her fingers instinctively brushing against the fabric of your shirt as her grip on your waist loosened. She turned her attention to the TV, where ESPN analysts were dissecting every possible scenario for her future. "Man, they really don’t let up, do they?" she said, her tone laced with amusement, though there was a hint of nervous energy beneath it.

The corners of her lips tugged upward, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to match her smile. She moved towards the TV, the light from the screen flickered across her face, highlighting the easy confidence in her expression, the kind you admired—and sometimes envied. You followed her to the couch while the analysts continued their animated chatter, debating potential fits for Paige’s skillset, throwing out city names like they were playing a game of darts.

Dallas. Seattle. Los Angeles.

Each name felt like a small pinprick against your heart, sharp and impossible to ignore. The map of your life, once neatly outlined, suddenly felt scattered, its pieces floating far beyond your reach.

"They’re hyping you up pretty hard," you said, forcing a lightness into your tone that didn’t match the weight pressing on your chest. Your voice wavered just enough to betray you, and Paige’s eyes flicked toward you, a faint crease forming between her brows.

"You okay?" she asked, her head tilting slightly as she studied your face. Her hand slid back to your waist, her thumb brushing soothing circles against your side—a small, grounding gesture she always did when she sensed something was off.

You blinked, willing the heavy feeling to ease, and offered a quick nod. "Yeah, of course," you replied, though the words sounded hollow even to you. "Just... big changes, you know?"

Her lips parted, as though she was about to say something, but the voice of one of the analysts cut through the moment. "Paige Bueckers is a generational talent, the kind of player who can turn a struggling franchise into a contender. Wherever she ends up, she’ll be the face of the team—and the league—for years to come."

Paige smirked, her eyes flickering back to the screen. "No pressure, right?" she joked, her laugh light and airy.

You managed a faint chuckle, but your gaze drifted back to the TV. The words echoed in your mind—wherever she ends up. The reality of it was sinking in now, each city they mentioned feeling like a little reminder of how far she could be from here. From you.

Your stomach churned, the what-ifs swirling in your mind, but you swallowed the lump in your throat and tightened your grip on her arm. "No pressure," you echoed softly, your attempt at a smile faltering as the weight of the conversation you both needed to have settled heavily in the room.

You managed a soft laugh, but the sound felt foreign, caught somewhere between your chest and throat. Your mind, however, was a whirlwind—spinning with a thousand questions, a thousand uncertainties. The thought of Paige leaving, of her packing up and moving thousands of miles away, twisted itself deeper into your thoughts. It was a jarring reality, one that you hadn’t quite processed until now. The idea of her being so far, of the life you’d been building together being uprooted, gnawed at you like an ache you couldn’t shake. For a fleeting moment, the cozy warmth of the evening, the easy comfort of the couch and Paige’s arms around you, seemed to dim—fading into the background, as if overshadowed by the looming storm in your mind.

You shifted in Paige’s embrace, adjusting to face her more fully. Her body heat, once soothing, now felt distant, like an anchor too far out of reach. The soft glow of the TV, once so comforting with its familiar noise, faded into mere background hum. Yet the words they’d been saying—about Paige’s future, her draft prospects, her potential to be the face of an entire team—those words lingered. They clung to the air between you like smoke.

Your fingers found the hem of her hoodie, absently twisting the fabric between your fingers as you fought to steady the rising tide of emotions threatening to spill over. This conversation had been coming for weeks, and you knew it, but hearing it all laid bare, with the prospect of her leaving becoming real, was harder than you’d expected.

“Paige,” you started, your voice quieter than you intended, cautious as it slipped from your lips. You swallowed once, gathering the right words—words that wouldn’t send her into defense mode, words that wouldn’t make her think you were doubting her. You fidgeted with the fabric, finding it oddly grounding as you tried to put your thoughts together. “Have you thought about what’s going to happen… after the draft?”

The question hung in the air, delicate and fragile. You hoped it wouldn’t shatter everything you’d built.

Paige blinked, her gaze briefly pulling away from yours as she processed your words. For a second, her expression was unreadable, the usual openness in her eyes clouded with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, after a breath, she shrugged, her shoulders lifting in a casual, almost dismissive gesture. "Not really," she replied, her voice light, too light. "I mean, we’ll figure it out."

Her words were meant to be reassuring, but they felt hollow, like a promise she hadn’t fully thought through. The ease with which she’d brushed off the question—the lack of real consideration in her answer—struck you like a sudden chill.

Her nonchalance stung more than you expected, like a sharp, sudden crack that left a lingering ache behind. You had always admired how Paige could stay so effortlessly confident, but in this moment, her casual demeanor felt like a wall you couldn’t get past. The way she dismissed the weight of the conversation, as if it was nothing more than a passing thought, made your heart sink deeper. You needed clarity—needed her to see just how serious this was—but her tone only made the tension between you feel heavier, as if you were both in two completely different worlds.

You blinked, trying to steady your breathing. Your heart raced, the knot in your chest tightening as you processed her response. We’ll figure it out, she had said. But you weren’t sure that was true.

The more you thought about it, the more it gnawed at you. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to think about your own life, your own career, your own future in all of this. You’d been so caught up in supporting her, in being there for her as she prepared for this monumental step, that you hadn’t paused to ask the most important question: What about me?

“Figure it out how?” you asked, your voice wavering despite your best efforts to sound steady. You could feel the pressure building in your chest, the familiar anxiety of facing something you didn’t want to face, but you couldn’t just let this go. You needed her to see the stakes.

Paige let out a soft exhale and leaned back into the couch with a lazy stretch, her muscles flexing under her hoodie as she made herself comfortable, completely unaware—or maybe just unconcerned—about how the words she was saying were affecting you. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice relaxed, as if she had no cares in the world. “I’ll move wherever I get drafted, and you’ll come with me. Right?”

Her words hit you like a slap, so unexpectedly hard that they left you momentarily stunned. The assumption in her voice, the casualness, it felt like a complete oversight, like she hadn't even taken a second to consider what it might mean for you. The air between you seemed to freeze, the space on the couch growing wider as you recoiled, pulling back just enough to distance yourself from the weight of her statement.

You blinked, your chest tightening as you processed what she’d just said. You searched her face, her eyes, hoping to see a flicker of recognition—some sign that she realized the enormity of what she was suggesting. But there was nothing. She looked... calm. Completely at ease. Like she had just suggested picking a place to eat for dinner or choosing a movie to watch. Her expression was so serene that it almost made you question if she had really understood the magnitude of her words.

You’ll come with me. Right?

"Wait," you said, your voice quieter than it had been a moment ago, but the edge of sharpness in it still made you pause. You took a deep breath, trying to keep your composure, but it was hard when her casual assumption hit you like a wave. "You just assumed I’d uproot my whole life and move with you?"

It felt like a jolt of cold reality that you weren’t prepared for, and as much as you wanted to remain calm, the frustration bubbled up inside of you. The way she had dismissed your career, your life, your plans, as though they were secondary to her dreams... it wasn’t just unfair—it was hurtful.

Paige's brow furrowed slightly as she processed your words. She shifted, sitting up straighter now, her posture more defensive. "Well, yeah. I mean... isn’t that what people do when they’re committed? I thought we were on the same page about this." She leaned forward slightly, her tone still casual, but there was a hint of confusion creeping into her voice as she tried to reconcile the difference between her perception and yours.

Your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to stay calm. You took another breath, letting the anger simmer beneath the surface without letting it completely take over. You needed to get your point across without letting the frustration drown you. "On the same page?" you repeated, your voice steady but thick with disbelief. A soft, incredulous laugh escaped you, but it held no humor. "Paige, we’ve never even talked about this. Not once."

The words felt heavy in the air as you glanced at her, your gaze steady and controlled despite the way your stomach twisted. She was still looking at you with that same puzzled expression, as if the idea that you’d feel any differently hadn’t even occurred to her.

"You just decided for me that I’d leave my job, my friends, everything, to follow you?" You let the question hang in the air, each word deliberate, your calm voice betraying none of the overwhelming emotions that had started to churn inside. It was as if you were watching yourself from outside your body, trying to make sense of this entire conversation, this entire situation. How had things gotten to this point without either of you discussing the most basic of expectations?

There was a brief silence between you as you let the weight of your words sink in. Paige’s expression shifted then, her brow furrowing deeper as she processed your reaction. But even in the quiet that followed, you could see the realization dawning on her. She had never really thought about what it would mean for you—she had assumed that because her path was clear, everyone else’s would align with it too.

The thought that she hadn’t considered your life, your dreams, your commitments, hurt more than you expected.

She looked genuinely taken aback, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and surprise. For a brief moment, she seemed to freeze, as if the possibility that this might actually be a big deal had never even crossed her mind. The way her gaze darted from you to the space between you both was enough to make you feel like an invisible wall was slowly building. “I didn’t think it would be…” Her voice trailed off for a second as she searched for the right words, the weight of your unspoken frustrations hanging heavy between you. “I didn’t think it would be an issue. You love me, and I love you. Isn’t that what matters?”

You found yourself responding before you could stop it, the hurt leaking through in the sharpness of your voice. “You don’t think my life matters?” you shot back, the words tumbling out like a dam breaking. The hurt was so raw, so real, that you couldn’t mask it, couldn’t pretend that this wasn’t a breaking point for you.

Paige's face twisted in confusion, like she couldn’t fully process the weight of what you were saying. Her eyebrows knit together, her lips pressed into a tight line as she tried to piece together your reaction. “What? No, that’s not what I’m saying.” Her voice was defensive now, the tone shifting from confusion to frustration, a hint of impatience creeping in. She leaned back slightly, her body language closed off, and you could see the frustration building in her eyes. “But come on, it’s not like your podcast can’t be done anywhere. It’s not like it’s… a real job.” The moment the words left her mouth, her eyes widened slightly, as if she suddenly realized the weight of what she’d just said. It was a fleeting expression, gone as quickly as it came, but it was enough to make the air around you feel suffocating.

Her words hit like a slap, and you froze, feeling the air in the room grow thick with tension. The way she said it—casually, without a second thought—made something inside you snap. Your mind raced, trying to process how she could belittle something you had poured your heart into for years. Something that wasn’t just a passion but a future you had worked tirelessly toward.

For a moment, you couldn’t speak. The words she’d just spoken clung to the air between you like poison, and the silence felt heavier than anything you’d ever experienced. Paige, still unaware of how deeply her words had cut, shifted uncomfortably on the couch, as if she was expecting this to blow over quickly. But you couldn’t let it slide—not this time.

Your eyes met hers, your jaw tightening with resolve as you finally found your voice. "You have no idea how much I’ve invested in this—how much it means to me. It’s not just some side hobby, Paige. It’s my career. It’s my future." You stood up slowly, the calm you’d been holding onto slipping as you struggled to keep it together. "I don’t expect you to understand what it takes, but don’t you dare act like it isn’t important."

Her eyes flickered with guilt, but there was also a stubbornness there, a refusal to fully comprehend the depth of your frustration. She opened her mouth to say something but paused, as if she finally realized how far this had gone—how wrong she’d been. The air between you both grew thick with unspoken apologies and lingering questions.

Your stomach dropped at the silence, a heavy, hollow sensation filling you from the inside out, and the room seemed to stretch and contract all at once. The warmth of the evening was now completely gone, replaced by the cold reality of what she’d implied. The words she’d thrown out so carelessly reverberated in your mind, each one growing sharper, more painful the longer you thought about it.

You stared at her, searching her face for some sign that this was a misunderstanding, but all you saw was a mix of confusion and regret, too little, too late. The hurt came crashing over you in waves, and you felt it all at once—a rush of anger, disappointment, and sadness that left you breathless. It was like a dam had broken, and the flood of emotions poured out before you could even process them.

“Wow,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air, heavy with disbelief. You shook your head slowly, a bitter laugh escaping your lips, though it didn’t feel at all like something to laugh about. “You have nothing to say?”

You felt the anger bubble up, making it impossible to stay still. “Y/N, that’s not what I—” she began, but you didn’t give her the chance to finish. The words were like a knee-jerk reaction, a defense mechanism you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Don’t,” you cut her off, the words sharp and final as you stood, distancing yourself both physically and emotionally. You took a few steps away, the space between you growing wider with every second that passed. Your chest tightened, a mix of hurt and frustration making it harder to breathe. “Just don’t.”

Paige opened her mouth to argue but stopped, her lips pressing into a thin line. The tension in the air was palpable, every word unsaid only deepening the divide between you.

You didn’t want to hear her excuses. You didn’t want to listen to her try and explain away the damage she’d caused with a single careless comment. It was as if she didn’t even recognize the weight of your sacrifices, the hours of work, the relentless drive that had gone into making the podcast something you could be proud of.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and turned away, the cold creeping in even as the air in the room thickened. You wanted to scream, to ask her how she could be so blind, but all that came out was silence—heavy, suffocating silence that stretched between you like an impenetrable wall.

The stillness of the room felt suffocating as you turned back toward Paige, your eyes narrowing slightly as you watched her shift uncomfortably, her expression waver between frustration and guilt. But it wasn’t enough—none of it was enough—to calm the anger and hurt that was boiling inside you, threatening to spill over.

“Do you even understand what my podcast means to me?” you asked, your voice trembling at first but quickly steadying with each word. You couldn’t stop now. The words felt like they were clawing their way out of you, desperate to be heard, to make her understand. “It’s not just some hobby I do for fun. It’s my passion, Paige. It started as this little thing Taylor and I threw together in college, sure. But it grew. We grew. We’ve built something that people actually care about. Something I care about.”

You took a deep breath, the silence between you pressing on your chest, but you continued, not giving her the chance to interrupt. “Do you realize how much work I’ve put into this? The late nights researching, the hours of editing, the moments of doubt where I questioned if it was even worth it... But I kept going, Paige. I kept going because it meant something to me. Because it was more than just an idea—it was my life.”

You paced again, unable to stay still, the agitation making it harder to find the right words. “And now, you’re telling me that I can just drop everything and follow you wherever you go. Like this—” you motioned to the space between you, gesturing at the room, the life you had built around the podcast, “—is all so disposable. That my career, my dreams, don’t mean anything in comparison to yours.”

You stopped walking, standing still now, the weight of your own words sinking in. The room felt thick with emotion, your chest tight as you tried to steady your breathing. Paige looked at you, her face a mix of confusion and guilt, but you weren’t sure if she was seeing you—or just the frustration of the situation.

“You never asked me, Paige,” you said quietly, but there was an edge to your voice now, one you couldn’t suppress. “You never gave me the chance to decide what I want to do. You just assumed. You assumed that my life was secondary to yours. And that hurts more than anything.”

The silence stretched out again, but this time it was different. It wasn’t the heavy, suffocating silence of earlier. It was quieter—filled with the weight of things left unsaid, of walls that were now higher than they had been moments ago. And no matter how badly you wanted to go back to the way things were, you couldn’t ignore the sting of her words, the hurt of being overlooked.

Paige opened her mouth to respond, but you held up a hand to stop her, your words spilling out now like a dam breaking.

“When I started it, I thought it would be a stepping stone, you know?” you said, your voice softening slightly as you let the weight of the memory carry your words. The anger was still there, but it was now laced with a quiet sadness, the kind of sadness that came from realizing something you loved might not matter to the person who meant the most to you. “A way to get into sports broadcasting someday. Just a way to prove myself in a world where everyone told me I had to be more than just ‘the girl with a mic.’ But it turned into so much more. It grew into something I didn’t expect. It became my purpose, Paige.”

You paused, feeling the words weigh heavy in your chest as they tumbled out. “We get messages from listeners—real people—saying our episodes helped them find their voice, or gave them the confidence to chase their dreams. They’ve told us we’ve made them feel seen, heard. Do you know what that feels like? To have someone tell you that you’ve made a difference in their life, even if it’s just in a small way? That the words you’ve said, the stories you’ve shared, have actually meant something to them?”

You shook your head, swallowing hard as your thoughts started to spill faster, more desperately. “I can’t just leave that behind, Paige. It’s not just something I can put on pause. It’s part of who I am now. It’s everything I’ve worked for. Taylor and I built this thing together. We’ve spent years finding our rhythm, figuring out how to work seamlessly as a team. That doesn’t just happen over Zoom. I can’t replicate that through a screen." You paused, your voice softening. "And even if we tried, it wouldn’t feel the same. The podcast wouldn’t feel the same."

Your voice trembled with the weight of the truth, the truth that felt like a wall between you and Paige. She was listening now, her gaze softening, but there was a distant look in her eyes. It was the look of someone who didn’t quite get it, not yet—not fully. And it stung, the idea that she still didn’t understand how much this meant to you.

Her gaze softened slightly at your words, but you didn’t let it distract you. The vulnerability in your voice, the quiet ache of wanting her to understand, was a double-edged sword. You needed her to understand, but you couldn’t afford to soften what you were saying now. “This isn’t just about you, or me, or us. This is about everything I’ve built—everything I’ve sacrificed. I need you to see that.”

Paige flinched at your words, guilt flashing in her eyes, but you weren’t done.

“I love you, Paige. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. But I can’t lose myself in the process. I won’t. And I thought you, of all people, would understand that.”

The room fell silent except for the faint murmur of the TV in the background. Paige looked down at her hands, her expression unreadable, as you stood there, waiting for her to say something, anything, that could fix the growing chasm between you.

Paige sat there in silence, the only sound in the room being the faint tapping of her fingers against the side table, each tap like a beat of an unsaid apology. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, but it was clear she wasn’t seeing it. Her mind seemed to be elsewhere, turning over her words and the weight of your frustration. The tension between you two hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

When she finally lifted her eyes to meet yours, the expression there was different—vulnerable, uncertain, like she was trying to piece together the right words but couldn’t find the thread. Her voice was soft, carrying a hint of something fragile, something far more careful than before. "I didn’t mean to make it sound like what you do isn’t important," she said, her voice wavering just a bit. "I know how much your podcast means to you. I’ve seen how hard you work on it—how late you stay up, how much passion you put into every episode. I respect that, I do. I just…" She trailed off, clearly struggling to put her feelings into words, her eyes searching for some kind of understanding that she couldn’t quite reach.

You couldn’t stop yourself from pushing, from needing to hear more—to understand if there was a place for your voice in her world, or if you’d just been another thought she hadn’t really considered. "You just what?" you asked, your tone sharper than you meant, the hurt lacing your words threatening to unravel you.

Paige let out a long, defeated sigh, her shoulders slumping as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. She seemed smaller now, quieter, the usual confident spark in her eyes dimmed. Her fingers drummed against the fabric of her hoodie in a nervous rhythm, as if it helped her think through the mess of her own thoughts. "I guess I didn’t think about it enough," she admitted, the words coming slower now, more deliberate. "I just assumed we were on the same page. That you’d want to come with me, wherever I end up. I mean, I thought that’s what people in serious relationships do. They make it work, no matter what."

You felt the knot of frustration twist tighter in your chest, but now it wasn’t just frustration. It was the raw sting of realization—she hadn’t even considered that your world was important enough to stay in. That she could hurt you without even knowing it.

"You assumed," you murmured, repeating her words to yourself, trying to understand. The air between you seemed to grow colder, the warmth that had once been shared between the two of you slipping away with each passing second. "You assumed we’d just make it work. Making it work doesn’t mean one person sacrifices everything while the other gets to chase their dreams without a second thought, Paige."

She flinched again, rubbing the back of her neck. "I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I’ve been so focused on this draft, on everything that comes after, that I didn’t stop to think about how it might affect you. And that was wrong. But I thought—"

"You thought what?" you interrupted, your voice rising now. "That I’d just drop everything without a conversation? That I’d be fine leaving my life just because you’re Paige Bueckers and I should be grateful to be in your orbit?"

Paige’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought she might snap back, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned back against the couch, her shoulders slumping. "I didn’t mean to make it seem like that," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just… I thought we were committed enough that it wouldn’t even be a question. That we’d figure it out together."

"Committed enough?" you repeated, incredulous. "Paige, being committed means talking about things. It means understanding each other’s priorities and figuring out how to support each other. It doesn’t mean making thoughtless decisions about what the other person is willing to give up."

The room was thick with tension, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The faint buzz of ESPN in the background was the only sound, a reminder of the looming draft that had started this argument in the first place.

"I love you," Paige said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I want us to be together, no matter what. I’m sorry for ever assuming and I’m sorry I ever said your podcast wasn’t a real job, I’ve never thought that. But I don’t know how to fix this right now. I don’t know how to make you feel like you don’t have to choose between me and your career, because honestly? I don’t even know how to make this work."

Her vulnerability softened some of the anger coursing through you, but it didn’t erase the hurt. You took a deep breath, your voice steadying. "We can’t fix this tonight, Paige. But we need to figure out what this relationship looks like moving forward. Because I can’t be in a relationship where my dreams are treated like an afterthought. And if that’s too much for you, then maybe…"

Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, unable to finish the sentence.

Paige’s eyes widened, and she immediately stood, crossing the space between you in an instant. "Don’t," she said firmly, reaching for your hand. "Don’t even say it. We’ll figure it out, okay? I don’t have all the answers right now, but I’m not losing you. Not over this."

You looked at her, the determination in her eyes clashing with the doubt lingering in your heart. Could you really find a way to make it work? Or was this the beginning of a painful realization that love, no matter how strong, wasn’t always enough?

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post #wcbb #uconn x reader

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chelseaknoo · 3 months ago

Note

Hiii I love ur ficsss

Can u do a 2000 Eminem x latina/singer ???

2000s Eminem x Latina singer! Reader

Note:I wanted to make this fic like the other fic that I made.

You’re in your twenties, with a few years of experience already under your belt in the music industry. It’s been a whirlwind ride of late nights in the studio, long days on tour, and the thrill of live performances that leave you breathless. Tonight, you’re preparing for another show, meticulously applying your makeup in front of a mirror. The familiar buzz of a nearby radio fills the dressing room with a mix of chart-topping hits and hip-hop beats. It’s just background noise—until a new track begins to play

She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,

I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.

I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,

I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.

Hearing it, you’re momentarily stunned—this is Eminem, known for his raw candor and biting verses, rarely this personal. Fans and media latch on, fueling speculation. For you, it’s a mix of flattery and curiosity, leaving you to wonder about the intent behind his words as they echo through your world.

You were performing at a festival, a massive event where music fans gathered from all over, creating a charged atmosphere that crackled with energy. It was one of the biggest performances of your career so far, and you’d just finished checking your setlist when word came through the grapevine: Eminem was also performing. The realization sent a thrill down your spine. After his recent track where he’d dropped your name with lyrics that had set the rumor mill ablaze, you knew there was a chance you might cross paths.

During Eminem’s performance, the energy was palpable. The crowd was on fire, hanging onto every lyric he delivered with his signature intensity and precision. Midway through his set, the beat shifted, and you recognized the opening notes immediately—it was the song he’d written about you. The realization sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but feel both flattered and completely taken off guard.

As the track played, the massive screen behind him lit up with visuals. To your surprise, a snippet from one of your own music videos appeared. It was you—dancing, singing, completely in your element. The image faded in and out, perfectly synced to the lyrics he was delivering. The crowd erupted, clearly catching the connection and loving every second of it.

You felt your heart race as you stood there, unable to take your eyes off the screen or him. The mix of admiration and boldness in his performance was undeniable—he’d just laid it all out there, right in front of thousands of fans. You pressed your fingertips to your lips, feeling the heat in your face as you blushed deeply. It was surreal, having someone like Eminem make such a public declaration, and for a moment, you were overwhelmed by a mix of embarrassment, pride, and something far more personal.

As you made your way backstage, the crowd’s cheers outside provided a distant, rhythmic roar. The corridors were a chaotic mix of performers, stagehands, and crew members hurrying by. Just as you reached a quieter corner, you saw him—Eminem, unmistakable in his hoodie and baseball cap, talking with his team. For a second, your heart stopped. The man behind the lyrics was just a few feet away.

He caught sight of you, paused, and then walked over, his eyes holding a glimmer of curiosity mixed with that familiar intensity. You met him halfway, every step feeling like a blend of surreal anticipation and adrenaline.

You’re in your twenties, a seasoned performer in the music industry, and tonight, you're at one of the biggest festivals of the year. The air buzzes with excitement, the ground vibrating beneath your feet as crowds scream for the next artist to take the stage. You can hear the faint pulse of the music outside as you finish your makeup in front of a backstage mirror, perfecting the final details of your look. The lights reflect off your eyes, capturing the adrenaline coursing through you.

But the excitement of the night isn't just about the performance. Earlier today, a new track dropped on the radio, and to your surprise, it featured none other than Eminem—mentioning you in his lyrics. His words have been replaying in your mind, each line burning themselves deeper with every replay:

*“She's got curves in all the right places, and a smile that can light up the night,

I'd do anything to be with her, to hold her tight.

I dream about her every night, and think about her all day,

I'd give anything to be with her, to make her mine in every way.”*

Hearing those lines for the first time left you stunned, a rush of disbelief mixed with flattery. Eminem, one of the most respected names in the game, had woven you into his story with words that were both bold and unmistakably personal.

Before long, you’re backstage at the festival, preparing to take the stage. The crew members buzz around, checking equipment and making sure everything runs smoothly. Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts, and you can sense him even before you see him—Eminem is here. He walks in with a confident stride, his presence magnetic and undeniable, his signature hoodie and serious expression unmistakable.

He spots you, and for a brief moment, his gaze softens, a flicker of something unspoken passing between you. He approaches, and the noise around you seems to fade away.

"Hey," he says, his voice low but carrying over the hum of the backstage commotion. "I guess you heard the track."

You smile, trying to play it cool despite your racing heart. "Kinda hard to miss when you’re broadcasting my personal life to the world, don’t you think?"

He chuckles, a genuine sound that catches you off guard. "Guilty as charged," he admits. "I meant every word, though."

There’s a beat of silence between you two, heavy with a mix of tension and curiosity. You search his eyes, trying to read the man behind the verses that caught you off guard.

"So," you say, breaking the silence and tilting your head playfully, "was that your way of asking me out, or do you just enjoy making things complicated?"

He grins, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Maybe a little of both. Keeps things interesting."

Before you can respond, a stagehand interrupts, letting you know it’s almost time for you to go on. Eminem steps back but not before leaning in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath.

"Break a leg out there," he murmurs, his voice just for you. "I’ll be watching."

With that, he turns away, leaving you with a pounding heart and a renewed energy. As you make your way toward the stage, you can’t help but smile, knowing that tonight's performance—and whatever happens next—just got a whole lot more interesting.

With that, you stepped onto the stage, the festival’s energy washing over you like a wave. The world might have gone wild for his lyrics, but now you had a story unfolding that was just yours—and it was only beginning.

Eminem stood backstage, his eyes locked on you as you took command of the stage. He had seen countless performers before, but there was something different about you—something captivating. The way you moved, the fluid grace with which you danced, and the effortless confidence you exuded as you sang each note—it all seemed to pull him in, leaving him momentarily spellbound.

The lights cast a glow around you, accentuating every curve of your body as you swayed in rhythm with the music. Your energy was electric, and it radiated out to the audience, who moved and sang along with you, completely entranced. Eminem found himself leaning forward, his focus narrowing to just you. Every step you took, every flick of your wrist, every note you hit—it all carried a magnetic power that he couldn't tear himself away from.

He watched the way your eyes sparkled as you connected with the crowd, how your smile lit up your entire face, adding an extra layer of vibrancy to your performance. There was a raw authenticity in how you poured yourself into every lyric, and he couldn't help but admire it. To him, it was as if you weren’t just performing—you were telling a story, one that demanded to be heard and felt.

"She's good," he muttered to himself, barely noticing the words slipping out. But it was more than just skill. There was something intangible—a spark that made you shine brighter than the stage lights themselves.

When you spun around and your gaze briefly flickered toward backstage, catching sight of him, a knowing smile played on your lips. For a heartbeat, it felt like time slowed down. He felt a rush of something unfamiliar—equal parts admiration and intrigue.

As the final beats of your song echoed and the crowd erupted in cheers, Eminem couldn't help but smile, his awe evident. You took a bow, breathing heavily but radiating pride. And as you walked off the stage, he knew one thing for certain: you weren’t just another artist on the lineup. You were someone unforgettable.

As you stepped off the stage, the roar of the crowd still echoing in your ears, you felt the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your heart was pounding, and your chest rose and fell with each deep breath as you tried to ground yourself after the electrifying performance. As you made your way backstage, wiping a sheen of sweat from your forehead, your gaze fell on Eminem.

He was standing off to the side, his eyes fixed intently on you. There was no mistaking the look in them—complete awe and genuine admiration. He seemed mesmerized, as if he was replaying every moment of your performance in his head. For a second, you locked eyes, the world around you fading away. The intensity of his stare made your pulse quicken, but you managed to keep your composure.

A playful, almost shy smile curved your lips. You held his gaze for a moment longer, letting the connection linger before breaking it with a soft laugh. Then, with a casual flick of your hair, you turned and began walking toward your dressing room, your team moving around you like a wave of support. You could feel the weight of his attention, even as you walked away.

Inside the dressing room, you exhaled, your reflection in the mirror still glowing from the thrill of the stage and the encounter. As you fixed your hair and adjusted your outfit, you couldn’t shake the memory of his eyes on you, the way it made you feel seen—not just as a performer, but as something more. It was a moment that would linger, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

As you touch up your makeup in the mirror, perfecting every detail, you take a moment to admire your reflection. The adrenaline from the performance still buzzes through your veins, and the roar of the crowd echoes in your ears. Just as you pick up your brush to fix a final smudge, the door behind you opens. You barely register it, assuming it’s someone from your team.

“Nice show out there.”

The unexpected sound of his voice makes you jump. Turning quickly, you find yourself face-to-face with Marshall—Eminem. There’s a spark of amusement in his eyes as he leans casually against the doorframe. You try to steady your breath, suppressing the thrill running through you.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he adds with a smirk. “Well, maybe a little.”

“Mission accomplished,” you reply, recovering with a smile. “But thanks. Glad you caught it.”

He walks over, closing the door behind him. The air between you grows charged. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of you, close enough that you can see the flecks of gray in his eyes.

“You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger out there,” he says, his voice low. “Kinda impressive.”

“Is that a compliment?” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Coming from you, I’ll take it.”

“Yeah? You should.” He steps even closer, and suddenly, his hands are on your waist. Without warning, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on top of the desk. You barely have time to catch your breath as he moves between your legs, his presence overwhelming, his gaze intense.

“You always surprise me,” you murmur, feeling your pulse quicken.

“Good,” he replies, his lips curving into a slow smile. “I plan to keep it that way.” He leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “But you know,” he adds softly, “seeing you like this, up close? Way better than any stage.”

Before you can respond, his lips find yours. The kiss is firm and confident, with just a hint of the hunger simmering beneath the surface. You wrap your arms around his neck, deepening the connection, losing yourself in the moment. Time seems to slow, the world outside the door fading away until it’s just the two of you.

When he pulls back, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes. “I’ve been waiting for that,” he admits, his voice husky.

“Were those lyrics just an elaborate setup?” you tease, still catching your breath.

“Maybe,” he says with a grin, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Worked, didn’t it?”

You laugh, the sound light and easy, feeling the tension melt away. “I guess it did.”

His hands linger at your waist, fingers tracing idle patterns. “I’d say we make a pretty good duet.”

“Is that your way of saying you want more?” you challenge, feeling bold.

“Definitely,” he murmurs, leaning in again. “And I’m just getting started.”

As Marshall’s lips trail down your neck, a soft sigh escapes your lips. His hands rest firmly on your waist, pulling you closer as you run your fingers through his hair. The intensity of the moment is overwhelming, and every touch, every breath, feels electric. The room seems to shrink around you, narrowing your focus to just him—until the door suddenly swings open.

“Yo, Marshall, you ready for—oh, hell no.”

You both freeze. Turning your heads simultaneously, you spot Proof standing in the doorway, eyebrows raised, a mix of shock and amusement playing across his face. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene—Marshall standing between your legs, hands still on your hips, your flushed faces. There’s a beat of silence, and then Proof bursts out laughing.

“Oh, this is rich,” Proof says, leaning against the doorframe and shaking his head. “Am I interrupting something? Nah, scratch that. I know I’m interrupting something.”

Marshall lets out a low groan, pulling back slightly but keeping his hands firmly on you. “Man, do you ever knock?” he snaps, though there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips.

“Marshall, you ready to go out and celebrate? The night��s still young."

Marshall doesn’t even look up at him, his focus entirely on you as he steps closer. He takes a slow breath, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Celebrate, huh? Nah, I think I’ll pass on that. I’ve got better plans tonight.”

Proof raises an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

Marshall’s lips curve into a flirtatious smile as he moves even closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "I’d rather spend the night with her, if you don’t mind." His eyes lock onto yours, a heat building between you both as his gaze lingers, making it clear he’s not just talking about any casual hangout.

You feel your heart skip a beat as Marshall leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. "She’s the one I’m celebrating with tonight," he adds, his tone rich with intent, sending a shiver down your spine.

Proof chuckles, looking between the two of you, clearly understanding what’s going on. "Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll leave you two to it. Just don’t keep me waiting too long." He smirks, walking toward the door. “But you owe me a drink later, man.”

Marshall barely acknowledges him, his attention fixed on you. As Proof exits, Marshall turns back, that same smirk never leaving his face. “Now, where were we?” he says, his tone both playful and hungry, eyes never leaving yours. <3

#eminem x reader #marshall mathers x reader #eminem #eminem imagine #marshall mathers imagine #marshall mathers #slim shady #feminine reader #fluff and smut #famous!reader #singer reader

233 notes · View notes

elryuse · 7 days ago

Note

It would be lovely to have more yandere Rami

Since you asked for it. Here you go.

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

Don't Go Away

Yandere Rami X Male Reader

Tags : Yandere Love, Obsessed, Obsessive, Idol X Fan, Fan Male Reader, Affection, Dangerous Love, Romance, Emotional, Angsty

Words : 7,016 Words

Seoul was alive tonight. The city buzzed with electric energy, as if it knew something extraordinary was about to happen. For you, this wasn’t just another night. It was the night—the long-awaited concert of Babymonster.

You’d been a fan since the very beginning, following every pre-debut video, every teaser, and every behind-the-scenes clip. They weren’t just idols to you; they were inspiration, motivation, and joy wrapped in captivating performances and heartfelt songs.

But there was one member who stood out from the rest—Rami.

Rami wasn’t the most spotlighted member, and that was part of what made her special to you. Her subtle charm, quiet confidence, and genuine warmth felt different, more real. She was everything you admired but could never imagine approaching.

Of course, it was just an idol crush. You knew that. People like you didn’t get to be close to someone like her. But that didn’t stop the excitement bubbling inside you as you stood in line outside the concert venue, clutching your ticket like it was a golden key to another world.

The lights of Seoul Tower glimmered in the distance, and the faint murmur of fans filled the air. Everyone around you was dressed in Babymonster merchandise—hoodies, light sticks, hats. You were no different, wearing a black hoodie with their debut logo and holding the custom light stick that had cost you a good chunk of your paycheck.

The gates opened, and the crowd surged forward. Your heart raced as you entered the venue, the sheer size of the arena overwhelming you. Rows of seats stretched into the distance, the stage standing proud and massive at the center.

You found your seat quickly, grateful for the hours you’d spent refreshing the ticketing site to snag a spot with a decent view. As the lights dimmed and the opening VCR played on the massive screens, the collective cheer of the crowd shook the air.

And then they appeared.

Babymonster stepped onto the stage, their silhouettes illuminated by dazzling lights. The opening beats of their hit song filled the venue, and you couldn’t help but join in the deafening cheers.

There she was—Rami.

She was even more beautiful in person, her every movement graceful and precise. Her voice, though often overlooked in favor of the main vocalists, carried a unique sweetness that resonated with you. She seemed to shine in her own way, distinct from the others yet still perfectly in sync.

The concert was a whirlwind of energy, lights, and music. You sang along to every song, your voice blending with thousands of others. But your eyes never strayed far from Rami. You noticed the small things—the way she smiled at the fans, the way she interacted with the members, the way her expression softened during heartfelt moments.

When the group took a break to address the fans, Rami stepped forward, holding the mic with both hands.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” she said, her voice steady but soft. “It means the world to us. I hope our music gives you as much strength as your support gives us.”

You felt a lump in your throat. Somehow, her words felt personal, as if they were meant just for you.

The night continued with more songs, dance breaks, and even a fun segment where the members played games on stage. By the time the encore rolled around, you were hoarse from cheering but still buzzing with adrenaline.

As the concert came to an end, the members lined up to bow, thanking the fans once again. The crowd erupted into applause, and you waved your light stick one last time, wishing this moment could last forever.

But like all good things, it had to end. The lights brightened, signaling that it was time to leave. You lingered for a moment, taking in the stage one last time before joining the stream of fans heading toward the exits.

The streets of Seoul were chilly, but the warmth of the concert lingered in your chest. You walked slowly, replaying every moment in your mind, a silly grin plastered on your face.

As you reached a quieter part of the street, your phone buzzed. Pulling it out, you saw a notification from Babymonster’s official fan app.

“Thank you for tonight, Seoul! You were amazing. 💖 - Rami”

Your heart skipped a beat. It was probably pre-scheduled, but it still felt special seeing her name pop up on your screen.

You were about to tuck your phone away when you heard a voice behind you.

“Excuse me?”

You turned, your heart nearly stopping when you saw her—Rami, standing just a few feet away.

She looked different from how she did on stage. Her makeup was softer, her hair tied back in a simple ponytail, and she wore an oversized hoodie that made her look surprisingly ordinary. But there was no mistaking her.

“I think you dropped this,” she said, holding out a small pin. It was one of the Babymonster collectibles you’d attached to your bag.

Your mind raced, struggling to process what was happening.

“Uh... t-thank you,” you stammered, stepping forward to take the pin from her hand.

She smiled—a small, genuine smile that made your knees feel weak. “No problem. Did you enjoy the concert?”

“Yeah,” you blurted out, feeling your face heat up. “It was amazing. You were amazing.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, fiddling with the strap of her bag. “I’m glad. We work really hard, so it means a lot to hear that.”

For a moment, you both stood there in silence, the bustling noise of the city fading into the background.

“I should probably get going,” she said, glancing toward the car waiting at the curb. “But... thanks for supporting us. It really does mean everything.”

Before you could respond, she gave you one last smile and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding and your mind spinning.

You looked down at the pin in your hand, now feeling like the most precious thing you owned.

There was no way you’d ever forget this night.

The days after the concert felt surreal. You replayed every moment in your head, but one memory stood out above all—the brief interaction with Rami. It was a fleeting moment, yet it left a lasting impression. You hadn’t dared to hope for anything more.

Then came the text.

It was a week after the concert. You were sitting at your desk, scrolling aimlessly through social media when your phone buzzed. At first, you assumed it was just another notification from Babymonster’s official fan app. But when you checked, you froze.

The sender wasn’t the fan app. It was a private number. And the message read:

“Hi! It’s Rami. I hope this is okay... I just wanted to say thank you again for supporting us. 😊”

You stared at the screen, your heart pounding. Was this real? How did she even have your number? It had to be a mistake, right? But before you could spiral further, another message came through:

“It’s me, from the other night. I hope I’m not bothering you!”

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling as you typed back:

“No, not at all! I wasn’t expecting this, but it’s really nice to hear from you.”

She responded almost immediately.

“I’m glad! I wasn’t sure if I should reach out, but you seemed really genuine. It’s not often we get to meet fans like you.”

From that moment, the messages began to flow. At first, they were casual—short exchanges about the concert, the group’s music, and her experiences as an idol. But as days turned into weeks, the conversations grew deeper.

You learned things about her that you’d never seen in interviews or fan content. She talked about the pressure of being in the spotlight, her dreams before joining Babymonster, and her insecurities about being overlooked. She even joked about how she envied the more popular members sometimes, though she always followed it with a laugh to downplay it.

In turn, you opened up about your own life. You told her about your job, your hobbies, and your love for music. She seemed genuinely interested, asking thoughtful questions and encouraging you when you talked about your struggles.

It felt unreal—like you were living in a dream.

One evening, after a particularly long chat, you couldn’t help but ask the question that had been gnawing at you since the first text.

“How did you get my number?”

Her reply came after a brief pause:

“I hope it doesn’t freak you out... but I remembered your name from the fanclub list. I asked one of the staff members if they could help me find you. I know it’s kind of weird, but I just felt like I had to say thank you properly.”

You stared at the message, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. It was strange, sure, but also... flattering. She’d gone out of her way to reach out to you.

“I’m not freaked out,” you replied honestly. “I’m just surprised. But I’m really glad you did.”

Her response was immediate:

“Me too. 😊”

The connection between you grew stronger with every passing day. You started to notice subtle changes in her messages. She began sharing more personal details—what she was doing during the day, the songs she was practicing, even little complaints about early rehearsals or strict dieting schedules.

It was as if she trusted you, and you felt honored to be someone she could confide in.

But as the weeks turned into months, a part of you couldn’t shake the nagging doubt. Was this okay? Was it normal for an idol to be this close to a fan? You didn’t want to overstep, but it was hard to draw boundaries when she kept texting you first.

One evening, as you lay in bed staring at your phone, her message came through:

“What are you doing right now?”

“Just lying down, thinking about stuff,” you replied. “What about you?”

“Same. Sometimes I feel like my brain won’t turn off, you know?”

You hesitated before typing your next message:

“What are you thinking about?”

There was a long pause before her reply came through.

“You.”

Your breath caught. You reread the message several times, wondering if you’d misunderstood. But no—it was clear as day.

“Me?” you typed back, unsure of what else to say.

“Yeah. I don’t know... I just feel like I can talk to you about anything. It’s kind of scary, but in a good way. Does that make sense?”

Your heart raced as you stared at her words. This was no longer the innocent fan-idol relationship you’d always assumed it was. There was something deeper here, something you weren’t sure how to navigate.

“It makes sense,” you replied carefully. “I feel the same way.”

The conversation continued late into the night, but the dynamic between you had shifted. Her words were more personal, more vulnerable, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were crossing a line you’d never thought you’d approach.

And yet, you didn’t want to stop.

As you finally drifted off to sleep, her last message lingered in your mind:

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams. 😊”

For the first time in years, you felt like they might actually come true.

Days turned into weeks, and your phone had become a lifeline to an impossible reality. Rami wasn’t just an idol anymore—she was a friend. The two of you texted nearly every day, sharing your thoughts, frustrations, and little joys.

At first, it had been surreal, like living in a dream you were afraid to wake up from. But now, it felt natural. Her texts would pop up at random hours, sometimes during her rehearsals, sometimes late at night when she couldn’t sleep. You’d grown used to her name lighting up your screen, to the comfort her words brought.

But nothing could have prepared you for the message she sent one ordinary Tuesday afternoon.

“Hey, I was thinking... do you want to meet up?”

You blinked at your phone, rereading the text several times. Your heart started to race, a mixture of excitement and dread flooding your chest.

“Are you serious?” you typed back. “Don’t you think that’s... risky?”

Her reply was almost instant.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. I trust you. And I really want to see you in person.”

You put your phone down and ran a hand through your hair, anxiety bubbling up. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to meet her. The idea of seeing her face-to-face again, of talking to her without a screen between you, was intoxicating. But you couldn’t ignore the risks.

She was a rising star, and you were just a regular guy. If anyone found out, her career could be jeopardized. The thought of her facing backlash or scandals because of you was unbearable.

“Rami, I don’t know,” you texted after a long pause. “What if someone sees us? What if the media finds out?”

Her response was firm:

“I’ll be careful. We’ll pick somewhere quiet. Please? I need this.”

Those three words hit you harder than you expected. She needed this? The vulnerability in her message made it impossible to say no.

“Okay,” you typed reluctantly. “But we have to be really careful.”

Her reply came with a smiling emoji:

“Thank you. I promise, it’ll be worth it.”

The day of the meetup arrived, and your nerves were in overdrive. She’d chosen a small, out-of-the-way café tucked into one of Seoul’s quieter neighborhoods. It was the kind of place where people came to relax with a book, not to spot celebrities.

You arrived early, scanning the area for any signs of paparazzi or fans. The coast seemed clear, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched.

Then she walked in.

Rami was dressed casually, in a simple hoodie and jeans, her hair tucked under a baseball cap. Even with the low-key outfit, she was stunning. She looked around the café until her eyes landed on you, and a smile broke across her face.

You stood up awkwardly, unsure of how to greet her. She solved the problem by pulling you into a quick hug.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, her voice soft but warm.

“You too,” you managed to reply, your heart pounding.

The two of you found a quiet corner table, away from prying eyes. She pulled down her mask slightly to sip her coffee, her expression lighting up as she took her first sip.

“So,” she began, leaning forward with a smile, “is this weird for you?”

You chuckled nervously. “A little. I mean, it’s not every day you meet your favorite idol like this.”

Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked down at her cup. “I’m just a person, you know. I don’t want you to think of me as... unreachable or something.”

“It’s hard not to,” you admitted. “You’re part of Babymonster. You’re living a dream life.”

She shook her head. “It’s not as dreamy as it looks. There’s a lot of pressure, a lot of loneliness. That’s why I wanted to meet you. You make me feel normal.”

Her words hit you like a freight train. You’d always admired her from a distance, but hearing her speak so candidly made you realize just how human she was.

The conversation flowed easily after that. She talked about her training days, her struggles with confidence, and the challenges of balancing fame with her personal life. You shared your own stories, your dreams, and even your insecurities.

Time seemed to blur, the hours slipping away as you lost yourselves in each other’s company.

As the café began to empty, you realized how late it had gotten. “We should probably go,” you said reluctantly.

Rami nodded but didn’t move right away. Instead, she looked at you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For being someone I can trust.”

You felt a lump in your throat as you nodded. “Always.”

She pulled her mask back up and stood, her hoodie obscuring her face as she prepared to leave. “I’ll text you later,” she said, her eyes crinkling with a smile.

As she walked out of the café, you couldn’t help but feel like your life had just taken a turn you never could have predicted.

The dynamic between you and Rami began to change subtly at first. After your first meetup, the conversations over text became even more frequent, almost incessant. You didn’t mind at first—it was still surreal that the girl you’d admired for years wanted to be so close to you.

But then, the meetups became more frequent too. Once a week turned into twice a week. Then she wanted to see you almost every other day. She always chose secluded places, far from the public eye, but her insistence on spending time together started to feel... odd.

It all came to a head one evening when she showed up at your apartment unannounced.

You opened the door to find her standing there, holding a bag in one hand and a bright smile on her face.

“Rami? What are you doing here?” you asked, glancing nervously down the hall to see if anyone had noticed her.

“I brought you something!” she said, brushing past you into your apartment.

You sighed and closed the door, watching as she set the bag on your coffee table. She pulled out a neatly wrapped box and handed it to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“What is this?” you asked, taking the box hesitantly.

“Open it!”

You unwrapped the gift to reveal a shirt—a designer one, by the look of it. But what caught your attention was that it looked eerily familiar.

“Wait,” you said, holding it up. “This is just like the one you wore in that photoshoot last month.”

She grinned. “It’s the same brand. I thought we could match!”

Your stomach turned uneasily. “Rami, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” she said firmly. “You’re important to me.”

Her words sent a shiver down your spine. There was a strange intensity in her gaze that you couldn’t quite place.

The gifts didn’t stop there. Over the next few weeks, she started showering you with presents—expensive cologne, limited-edition sneakers, even a high-end watch. You tried to protest, but she always brushed off your concerns.

“It’s just my way of showing you how much I care,” she would say with a dismissive wave of her hand.

But it wasn’t just the gifts. She started texting you at all hours, asking where you were, what you were doing, and who you were with. If you didn’t reply within minutes, she would send follow-up messages.

“Are you okay?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Please answer me.”

Her behavior grew even more erratic when she started showing up at places uninvited. Once, you were out with some friends at a quiet bar when you spotted her sitting at a table across the room, watching you.

You confronted her afterward.

“Rami, what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to keep your voice calm.

“I just wanted to see you,” she said, her tone defensive. “Is that so bad?”

“It’s not bad, but... you can’t just show up like this. People might recognize you.”

She crossed her arms, her expression hardening. “Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“What? No, of course not!” you said quickly. “I’m just worried about you. If someone finds out—”

“Then let them,” she snapped. “I don’t care what anyone thinks. I only care about you.”

Her words left you stunned. This wasn’t the same Rami you’d met weeks ago. The sweet, down-to-earth girl you’d gotten to know was gone, replaced by someone far more intense, far more possessive.

The breaking point came when she showed up at your workplace.

You were in the middle of a meeting when your phone buzzed. You ignored it at first, but the messages kept coming.

“I’m here.”

“Come outside.”

“Please, I need to see you.”

You excused yourself and stepped outside, only to find her waiting by the entrance.

“Rami, what are you doing here?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was watching.

“I missed you,” she said simply, as if that justified everything.

“This has to stop,” you said, your frustration finally bubbling over. “You can’t keep doing this. It’s too much.”

Her expression crumbled, and for a moment, she looked like the vulnerable girl you’d first met.

“Too much?” she repeated, her voice trembling. “I thought... I thought you cared about me.”

“I do,” you said, trying to soften your tone. “But this isn’t healthy, Rami. You’re putting yourself—and me—at risk.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but instead of backing down, she took a step closer.

“I don’t care about the risk,” she said quietly. “I can’t lose you.”

The intensity in her voice sent a chill down your spine. You realized then that this wasn’t just a harmless crush. This was something far deeper, far darker.

That night, you lay awake, your mind racing. You didn’t know what to do. You cared about Rami, but her behavior was spiraling out of control. You didn’t want to hurt her, but you also couldn’t let this continue.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you picked it up reluctantly. It was another message from her.

“Goodnight. I love you.”

You stared at the words, a sinking feeling settling in your chest. You had no idea how to respond.

The loud, insistent knocks on your door startled you out of your mid-morning routine. You checked the time—12 PM sharp. Your stomach twisted uneasily.

When you opened the door, there she was: Rami, her face a mask of anger and hurt. She wore an oversized hoodie with the hood down, her hair framing her face in a way that only emphasized how upset she looked.

“You didn’t respond to my text,” she said, her tone sharp. Her eyes bore into yours, demanding an explanation.

You froze for a second, guilt and unease wrestling in your chest. “I’m sorry. I—”

She didn’t let you finish. Rami pushed past you into the apartment, her presence dominating the small space.

“Do you know how worried I was?” she continued, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “I thought something had happened to you!”

“I... I was just busy,” you stammered, watching as she started walking through your apartment like she owned it. She looked into the kitchen, the living room, and even peeked into the bathroom.

“Rami, what are you doing?” you asked, following her around.

“Checking,” she said flatly. “Making sure no one else is here.”

Your blood ran cold at the implication. “Why would anyone else be here?”

She turned to you, her gaze piercing. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with accusation. You opened your mouth to respond, but she didn’t give you the chance.

“I’ve already decided,” she announced, brushing past you to grab a small duffel bag she’d left outside your door. She hoisted it onto her shoulder and looked at you with a determined expression. “I’m staying here tonight.”

“What?” You stared at her in disbelief. “Rami, you can’t just—”

“Yes, I can,” she interrupted, her tone firm. “I packed everything I need. You didn’t answer me last night, and I couldn’t sleep. So I’m staying here. End of discussion.”

You gulped, your mind racing. This was crossing a line—no, it was obliterating it. You wanted to protest, to tell her this wasn’t a good idea, but the intensity in her eyes stopped you.

“Rami,” you began carefully, “don’t you think this is a little... extreme? What if someone finds out? What if—”

“Who’s going to find out?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “I trust you. Don’t you trust me?”

Her question caught you off guard. You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. “It’s not about trust. It’s about boundaries.”

She took a step closer, her expression softening just enough to make your heart ache. “I just want to be with you. Please. Just for one night.”

You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Every rational part of your brain screamed that this was a terrible idea, but the vulnerability in her eyes was impossible to ignore.

“Fine,” you relented, your voice barely above a whisper. “But just for tonight.”

Her face lit up with a smile that almost made you forget how unsettling her behavior had been. Almost.

The rest of the afternoon passed in a haze of tension. Rami made herself at home, unpacking her things in your living room and exploring every corner of your apartment.

“This place is so you,” she said at one point, running her fingers over a stack of books on your coffee table. “It’s cozy.”

You tried to keep yourself busy, doing your best to act normal despite the growing unease in your chest. But it was hard to ignore the way she watched you, her eyes following your every move like a hawk.

When evening came, she insisted on cooking dinner.

“You’ve been so kind to me,” she said, tying an apron around her waist. “Let me take care of you for a change.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, so you let her take over the kitchen. The smell of sizzling garlic and soy sauce soon filled the air, and you couldn’t deny that the meal she prepared was delicious.

As the two of you sat down to eat, Rami seemed to relax. She talked about her day, her plans for the future, and even made you laugh a few times. For a moment, it almost felt normal.

But that sense of normalcy shattered when she casually said, “I could get used to this.”

You froze, your chopsticks hovering mid-air. “Used to what?”

“This,” she said, gesturing around the room. “Being here with you. Cooking for you. Taking care of you.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine. You forced a smile, trying to brush it off. “That’s sweet, Rami, but—”

“No buts,” she interrupted, her tone light but her eyes serious. “This is what I want.”

You didn’t know how to respond, so you stayed silent, focusing on your food instead.

After dinner, you offered to clean up, but Rami insisted on doing it herself.

“Go relax,” she said, flashing you a bright smile. “I’ll take care of everything.”

You retreated to the living room, your mind racing. This was spiraling out of control. You needed to set boundaries, but how could you do that without hurting her?

As you sat there, lost in thought, you heard her humming softly in the kitchen. The sound was hauntingly beautiful, but it only added to your unease.

When she finally finished, she joined you on the couch, sitting closer than you were comfortable with.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” she said, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I feel safe here.”

You forced a smile, your heart pounding. “You’re welcome.”

But deep down, you knew this wasn’t the end. It was only the beginning.

It began subtly, a few things here and there. At first, you didn’t think much of it.

One morning, you walked into the bathroom and found a pastel-pink toothbrush sitting next to yours in the holder. It was a minor addition, but it caught you off guard.

“Rami?” you called out, stepping into the living room where she was lounging on your couch.

She looked up with an innocent smile. “What’s up?”

“Did you leave this here?” you asked, holding up the toothbrush.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I thought I’d get one for myself. You know, for when I’m here.”

You frowned, unsure how to respond. “But you said you were only staying for one night.”

She tilted her head, her smile unwavering. “Plans change.”

By the end of the week, your once-neutral apartment started to look... different. It began with small items: a throw blanket in soft pastel hues draped over the couch, a vase of fresh flowers on the dining table, a collection of scented candles scattered around the living room.

Then came the more noticeable changes. One day, you came home from work to find that your bedroom had been “upgraded.”

The plain gray bedsheets you’d always used were replaced with an ornate floral design. There were matching pillows, a pink throw blanket at the foot of the bed, and even a small heart-shaped cushion in the center.

“What the hell is this?” you asked, staring at the transformation in disbelief.

Rami appeared behind you, her arms crossed and a satisfied smile on her face. “Do you like it? I thought your room could use a little... personality.”

“This isn’t your place,” you said, your voice sharp.

Her expression faltered for a moment, but she quickly recovered. “No, but I’m here so often, I thought it’d be nice to make it more... comfortable. For both of us.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Rami, you can’t just do things like this without asking.”

She stepped closer, her smile growing softer. “I was only trying to help. Don’t you like it?”

The vulnerability in her voice made you hesitate. You didn’t want to hurt her, but this was getting out of hand.

“It’s not about whether I like it,” you said carefully. “It’s about boundaries. This is my home, Rami.”

Her smile faded completely, replaced by a look of hurt and confusion. “I thought you’d be happy,” she whispered.

The weight of her disappointment hung in the air, suffocating you.

Over the next few days, her behavior became even more erratic. She started buying couple-themed items—matching mugs, matching slippers, even matching pajamas.

One evening, she presented you with a custom photo frame. Inside was a picture of the two of you that she must have taken at some point without you noticing. The frame itself was inscribed with the words: You and Me Forever.

You stared at it, your stomach churning. “Rami, this is too much.”

“Why?” she asked, her tone defensive.

“Because we’re not... we’re not a couple,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked genuinely shocked. Then her expression hardened, and she crossed her arms.

“Why are you acting like this?” she demanded. “I’ve done nothing but care for you, and you’re pushing me away.”

“I’m not pushing you away,” you said, struggling to keep your voice calm. “But you’re crossing boundaries, Rami. You can’t just decide these things on your own.”

Her lips trembled, but she didn’t back down. “I thought you cared about me.”

“I do,” you said, feeling trapped. “But not like this.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but instead of breaking down, she turned and stormed out of the room.

The next morning, you woke up to find your fridge stocked with groceries you didn’t buy—fresh produce, neatly packed containers of kimchi, and an assortment of snacks you vaguely remembered mentioning you liked.

There was also a handwritten note stuck to the fridge door:

I’m sorry if I upset you. I just want to make you happy.

Your chest tightened as you read the note. You wanted to feel grateful, but all you felt was dread.

Over the following weeks, her presence in your life became inescapable. She stopped asking for permission to visit; she simply showed up. She brought more things into your apartment—a stuffed animal for your bed, a pair of fuzzy slippers “just for you,” even a set of curtains to replace the ones in your living room.

Whenever you tried to confront her, she would deflect with excuses or turn the conversation back on you.

“I’m just trying to help,” she would say. “Why can’t you appreciate what I’m doing for you?”

It was exhausting. You felt like a stranger in your own home, surrounded by things that didn’t feel like yours anymore.

But the worst part was the way she looked at you. Her eyes were always filled with an unsettling mix of adoration and possessiveness, like she couldn’t imagine a world where you weren’t hers.

You knew you needed to do something before it was too late. But how do you tell someone like Rami to let go when she’s already convinced you’re her entire world?

Rami’s obsession with you grew to an uncontrollable level. It was no longer just about her spending time at your apartment or filling it with “couple” items. She started skipping schedules, missing rehearsals, and showing up late to group activities.

It didn’t take long for fans to notice. Online forums buzzed with speculation: “What’s going on with Rami?” “She doesn’t look like herself anymore.” “Is she dating someone?”

You felt a pang of guilt every time you saw these comments. Rami was so talented, so full of potential, and now her career was unraveling because of her fixation on you.

One evening, after another confrontation about her behavior, you decided to address the situation head-on.

“Rami,” you said as she sat on your couch, scrolling through her phone.

She looked up, her expression softening as she met your gaze. “Yes?”

“We need to talk.”

Her face immediately darkened, her fingers tightening around her phone. “About what?”

“This,” you said, gesturing to the apartment, which was now practically unrecognizable from how it used to be. “About us. About how this is affecting your career.”

She frowned, her tone defensive. “What about my career? I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “You’ve been missing schedules, and the fans are noticing. You’re not the same Rami they fell in love with.”

She stood up abruptly, her eyes blazing. “I don’t care about that! I only care about you!”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Rami, you’ve worked so hard to get where you are. You’re throwing it all away for... for this.”

“For you,” she corrected, stepping closer. “I’m doing this for you. Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve sacrificed—it’s all for you.”

“Rami,” you said softly, trying to stay calm. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but instead of softening, her expression turned angry. “You don’t respect me,” she snapped. “You don’t appreciate everything I’ve done for you. Do you even care about me at all?”

“Of course I care about you,” you said, your voice breaking. “But this isn’t healthy. For either of us.”

Her face crumpled, and she sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands.

The next day, you received an unexpected call from YG Entertainment. The voice on the other end was cold and professional.

“We need to talk. In person.”

When you arrived at the YG building, you were ushered into a conference room where the other members of Babymonster were waiting. Their expressions ranged from frustration to outright anger.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to her?” one of them demanded as soon as you walked in.

“She’s falling apart,” another added. “She’s not the Rami we know anymore.”

“We’ve tried to talk to her,” said Ahyeon, her voice softer but no less serious. “But she won’t listen. She’s convinced you’re the only one who understands her.”

You felt the weight of their words like a physical blow.

“We’re not here to argue,” the manager interjected. “We’re here to tell you this has to stop. Cut her off before it’s too late—for her sake and yours.”

“I care about her,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Then prove it,” the manager said. “Let her go.”

That evening, you sat in your apartment, staring at your phone. You wanted to call her, to end things cleanly, but every time you tried, the thought of her face—her tears, her anger—stopped you.

When she showed up unannounced, her eyes red and puffy from crying, you knew she’d sensed something was wrong.

“You talked to them, didn’t you?” she said, her voice trembling.

“Rami—”

“They told you to leave me,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “Didn’t they?”

You couldn’t deny it, so you nodded.

Her face twisted in anger and despair. “How could you listen to them? They don’t know anything about us!”

“They’re worried about you,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “And so am I.”

“I don’t need them,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t need anyone but you!”

“Rami, this isn’t love,” you said, your heart breaking as you spoke. “This is obsession. It’s not healthy.”

Her eyes filled with tears, and she shook her head. “No. You’re wrong. I love you. I need you.”

“I care about you,” you said, your voice cracking. “But I can’t do this anymore.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her face pale and her hands trembling. Then she turned and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.

You collapsed onto the couch, your chest aching. You hoped she would find her way back to herself, even if it meant you couldn’t be part of her life anymore.

But deep down, you knew this wasn’t the end. For Rami, it would never be over.

The days after Rami stormed out of your apartment were eerily quiet. You hadn’t heard from her, but you knew something was brewing. The guilt of everything—the missed schedules, the rumors online, the tension in her group—was weighing heavily on both of you. You tried to push her out of your mind, but you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going through.

One night, as you sat in your apartment scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, a sudden knock startled you. Opening the door, you found Ahyeon and Chiquita, two of Rami’s bandmates, standing there.

“We need to talk,” Ahyeon said curtly, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Chiquita’s face was kinder but still serious. “It’s about Rami.”

You closed the door and gestured for them to sit, though you felt like the ground was slipping from beneath you.

“She’s being put under immense pressure,” Ahyeon started, crossing her arms. “The company has had enough of her behavior. The missed schedules, the decline in performance—it’s all because of her obsession with you.”

Your stomach dropped, but you kept quiet as Chiquita continued.

“They’re forcing her to make a decision,” she said gently. “Either she stays in Babymonster and commits fully to her career, or... she chooses you and leaves everything behind.”

“What?” you whispered, your voice cracking.

Ahyeon leaned forward, her tone sharp. “You might think you’re helping her, but you’re not. This relationship is ruining her. She can’t focus on anything else, and the company is at its breaking point.”

You wanted to defend yourself, to say this wasn’t all your fault, but deep down, you knew they weren’t wrong.

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Chiquita said softly, her eyes filled with sympathy. “The company won’t let her throw away everything she’s worked for.”

The next day, Rami called you. Her voice was shaky, as if she’d been crying.

“Can we meet?” she asked.

You agreed, and this time, it was Rami who chose the location—a quiet park on the outskirts of the city. When you arrived, she was sitting on a bench, bundled up against the winter chill.

As you approached, she looked up, her eyes red and swollen.

“Hey,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Hey,” you replied, sitting down beside her.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with everything left unsaid.

“I have to choose,” she said finally, her voice trembling. “They’re making me choose—my career or... you.”

You stared at her, the words hitting you like a punch to the gut. “Rami, I—”

“They told me there’s no middle ground,” she interrupted, her voice breaking. “If I stay with you, I lose everything. My career, my fans, my group—it’ll all be gone.”

Your heart ached as you saw the pain in her eyes. You wanted to tell her to fight, to stand up for herself, but you knew how the industry worked. There was no fighting this.

“What are you going to do?” you asked quietly.

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “I don’t have a choice,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I have to choose my career. I can’t abandon everything I’ve worked for, everything my members have worked for.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I understand.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “But I can’t lose them either. I just... I don’t know what to do.”

“You’re making the right choice,” you said, forcing the words out even though they felt like they were tearing you apart. “Your dreams, your group—they’re too important to give up.”

She looked at you, her expression filled with anguish. “I don’t want this to end.”

“Neither do I,” you admitted. “But sometimes... sometimes love isn’t enough.”

She let out a broken sob, and you pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly as she cried into your shoulder.

A week later, you saw the official statement from YG Entertainment:

"Rami will be focusing fully on her career with Babymonster. We appreciate the support and understanding of our fans."

There was no mention of you, no hint of the relationship that had briefly turned both your lives upside down. It was as if you had never existed in her world.

You tried to move on, but the memories lingered—the sound of her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about her dreams, the bittersweet warmth of her presence.

As for Rami, she returned to the spotlight, her performances sharper and more passionate than ever. But whenever you saw her on stage, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was truly happy—or if a part of her heart would always belong to you.

The End.

#kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #update #yandere #yandere stories #angst #romance #slight yandere #kpop yandere #yandere love

115 notes · View notes

youngsadlesbian · 4 months ago

Text

ONLY YOURS

pairing: wanda maximoff x singer!reader

summary: you’re a famous singer who has been in a secret relationship with wanda maximoff for almost a year. as a surprise for your anniversary, you decide to reveal your relationship to the world in the best way possible.

a/n: this just popped into my mind and i put it on paper. not sure how i feel about it, but anyway. hope you like it <3

word count: 2,9k

warnings: pure fluff rainbows and everything

The air was electric as the crowd’s cheers reverberated throughout the massive stadium. You stood backstage, glancing at yourself in the mirror. The glow of the stage lights flickered faintly from behind the curtains, signaling that the time was approaching. But this wasn’t just any concert — this night was different. It wasn’t just another stop on your Latin American tour, it was the one-year anniversary of your relationship with the love of your life, Wanda Maximoff.

As a famous singer, you were used to the spotlight. The world knew your music, your performances, and your persona. But what they didn’t know was the secret you had been keeping for the past year — that you and Wanda were together. Your relationship had been private, kept from the prying eyes of the media and fans. But tonight, all of that was about to change.

Wanda, oblivious to your plan, was seated in the VIP box alongside Natasha, Clint, and Vision. She believed tonight was just another concert, and that afterward, you’d celebrate your anniversary quietly. But you had something much bigger in store.

Backstage, you could hear the band tuning their instruments, preparing for the final set. Your heart raced as you mentally ran through the surprise you had planned. The last song of the night wasn’t just another hit from your album — it was a song you had written just for Wanda. And tonight, the world would know.

“Y/N, it’s almost time,” your manager called, stepping into your dressing room.

You took a deep breath and nodded. “Everything ready?”

“Yep. The video montage is set to play, and the band’s ready for the last song. Wanda still has no idea.”

A nervous smile tugged at your lips. You glanced at the mirror one last time, running a hand through your hair. "Perfect. Let's do this."

As you stepped out onto the stage, the stadium roared to life. The energy of the crowd was infectious as thousands of fans screamed your name. You waved, beaming at the audience, but your eyes immediately sought Wanda in the VIP box. She waved back with a soft smile, completely unaware of what was to come.

The first hour of the concert went as planned, with you performing your biggest hits and interacting with the crowd. But as the final song approached, you signaled the band to quiet down. The stage lights dimmed, casting a soft glow over you as you stepped forward to address the audience.

"Hey, everyone," you began, your voice slightly trembling from nerves. "I want to take a moment to do something different tonight."

The crowd cheered, their excitement palpable. You could see Wanda in the distance, her brows furrowed in confusion as she leaned closer to Natasha.

“This is a really special night for me,” you continued, trying to keep your composure. “There’s someone here tonight who means everything to me. And while I’ve kept that part of my life private, I want to share it with you all now.”

Wanda’s eyes widened in realization as the screen behind you flickered to life. The video montage began playing, showing intimate clips of the two of you. The first video was from your very first date — an awkward yet adorable dinner in a small café, where Wanda had nervously played with her food while you tried to make her laugh. Then came snippets of the quiet mornings spent together, the playful banter, the late-night cuddles, and even a video of you serenading her in your living room.

The crowd gasped and cheered as they realized who the song was about. And then, you began to sing.

I remember the day we met,

In a crowded room, eyes full of secrets yet,

A quiet smile, a stolen glance,

I knew right then, this was my only chance.

You pulled me in without a word,

A love so deep, it’s always heard,

In hidden moments, under secret skies,

You and I, where love never dies.

This heart, it beats only for you,

Every breath, every word, it’s true,

Though the world didn’t know, we stayed out of view,

But now I’m ready to share it with you.

Through days we lived and nights apart,

You’ve always held this fragile heart,

And now I sing, for the world to see,

You’re my everything, my eternity.

This heart, it beats only for you,

Every breath, every word, it’s true,

Though the world didn’t know, we stayed out of view,

But now I’m ready to share it with you.

As you sang, the screen behind you continued to show moments of your life with Wanda. There were clips of the two of you on quiet hikes, cooking dinner together, and even goofing around during late-night movie marathons. You watched Wanda’s reaction as you sang, and her face was a mixture of disbelief and raw emotion. Her hands covered her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes, and even from the stage, you could see her love shining through.

The song ended, and for a moment, there was silence in the stadium. And then, the crowd erupted in cheers. But your focus remained on Wanda. She stood, clapping with tears streaming down her face, looking at you like you were the only person in the world.

After the concert, you rushed backstage, excitement bubbling inside you. You hadn’t been able to speak to Wanda yet, but you knew she’d be waiting. As soon as you stepped into the dressing room, she was there — standing with open arms and teary eyes.

Without a word, you ran to her, pulling her into a tight embrace. Wanda held you close, burying her face in your neck. “I can’t believe you did that,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

You pulled back, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I wanted the world to know. I’m tired of hiding how much I love you.”

Wanda laughed softly through her tears, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

The rest of the Avengers filtered in, clapping and cheering. Natasha was the first to pull you both into a hug, grinning like a proud sister. “Finally! I was getting tired of pretending I didn’t know.”

Tony, ever the jokester, strolled in with his signature smirk. “So, when’s the wedding? I’ll sponsor it.”

You and Wanda exchanged amused glances, both shaking your heads. “Let’s focus on tonight,” Wanda replied, her hand still tightly holding yours.

Once things had calmed down and you were finally alone with Wanda, the two of you sat down in your dressing room, scrolling through your phones. The internet had exploded with reactions to your surprise reveal. Wanda leaned into your shoulder, giggling as she read out some of the tweets.

“Look at this one,” she said, holding her phone up to show you. “OMG, Wanda Maximoff is off the market, and Y/N is the luckiest human alive. Why am I even surprised they look THAT good together?!”

You chuckled, scrolling through your own timeline. “Here’s one: ‘I’ve been shipping Y/N with literally anyone for years, but NOW my heart is full. THIS is the power couple we needed.’”

Wanda laughed, her head resting on your shoulder. “I love how supportive they all are. I was expecting some backlash.”

“Nah,” you said, kissing the top of her head. “They love you.”

Another tweet caught your eye: ‘Y/N just serenaded Wanda in front of thousands of people and literally declared their love to the whole world. If this isn’t the definition of GOALS, I don’t know what is.’

Wanda snorted. “Goals. We’re officially couple goals now.”

You shrugged playfully. “Hey, they’re not wrong.”

As the night wore on, you and Wanda kept scrolling through the endless flood of tweets, laughing and sharing the funniest ones with each other.

One of your favorites read: “BRB, I’m sobbing over Y/N’s new song. Someone, find me a Wanda Maximoff to serenade me like that.”

The warmth of Wanda's lips met yours as the clock’s quiet chime echoed through the room. You stayed in the embrace, content to savor the moment as the weight of the night slowly began to settle. The reveal, the music, the joy of finally sharing your relationship with the world — it all felt like a dream, one that you were still waking up from.

Wanda, her fingers tracing small circles on your arm, pulled back slightly to look at you. “You know, I never expected you to do something like that.” Her voice was soft, laced with affection.

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “I wanted to surprise you. I wanted the world to know how much you mean to me.”

She laughed gently, her eyes glimmering with love. “Well, consider me completely surprised. I can’t believe you managed to keep it a secret. You’ve never been good at hiding things from me.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, I’ve gotten very good at surprises.”

She gave you a playful nudge, her smile widening. “Mhm, sure you have.”

The sound of your phone buzzing caught your attention. You glanced down to see more notifications flooding in — tweets, messages, and comments, all pouring in from fans around the world reacting to the big reveal. Curiosity piqued, you unlocked your phone and began scrolling through the newest posts.

Wanda peeked over your shoulder, reading some of them with you.

“Here’s a good one,” you said, holding the phone out for her to see. “‘Y/N singing a love song to Wanda on stage is the purest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m crying, they’re so cute together!’”

Wanda giggled, resting her chin on your shoulder. “You made a lot of people cry tonight, you know.”

“I hope it was the good kind of crying.”

“Oh, definitely,” she said, scrolling to find more. “‘The way Y/N looks at Wanda while singing is how I want someone to look at me for the rest of my life. This is the content I signed up for!’”

You laughed, leaning into Wanda’s warmth. “They’re so sweet.”

“Here’s another one: ‘Honestly, Y/N serenading Wanda in front of thousands of people is peak relationship goals. When’s the wedding?’” She paused, giving you a sideways glance. “They’re really fixated on this wedding thing.”

You chuckled, feeling a little heat rise in your cheeks. “Can you blame them?”

Wanda hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose not.”

She tilted her head, a playful smirk creeping onto her lips. “So… any plans for that wedding? I mean, since the world is so curious now.”

Your heart skipped a beat at her teasing tone. “Are you… proposing to me, Maximoff?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Maybe.”

You grinned, pulling her closer. “Well, maybe I’ll have to surprise you again.”

Wanda laughed, resting her head against yours as you both continued reading through the endless tweets and messages of support. The fans' reactions were overwhelmingly positive — people were ecstatic that you and Wanda had finally gone public. And though you had expected a few negative comments, they were drowned out by the flood of love and excitement.

One tweet in particular caught your eye: “I’ve been a fan of Y/N for years, but seeing how happy they are with Wanda makes me love them even more. Love is love, and these two are proof that soulmates exist.”

You showed the tweet to Wanda, who smiled softly as she read it. “Soulmates, huh?”

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. “I think they’re right.”

She met your gaze, her eyes filled with that same deep love you had sung about on stage. “So do I.”

The night stretched on as the two of you basked in the glow of the concert’s success and the warmth of your love. It felt like the world had shifted in a way — a new chapter had begun, one where you no longer had to hide your relationship, where you could be open and free with the person who meant everything to you.

As the early hours of the morning approached, the two of you finally decided to put your phones away and focus on each other. Wanda wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as you both sank into the comfort of the couch.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

“For what?” you asked, brushing your thumb over her knuckles.

“For tonight. For the song. For everything.” She smiled, her eyes reflecting the love she felt. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You kissed her softly, letting your forehead rest against hers. “I’m the lucky one.”

The two of you stayed like that for a while, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the peaceful silence speak for you. There were no more words needed. Everything you had wanted to say was already said — through the song, through the surprise, through the moments you shared both on and off the stage.

And as you held Wanda close, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against yours, you knew that this was just the beginning. There would be more concerts, more songs, more surprises, and, most importantly, more moments together. Whatever the future held, you were ready for it — as long as she was by your side.

In the end, it wasn’t the stage lights or the roaring crowd that mattered. It was the quiet moments like these, where the world faded away and it was just the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of each other’s love.

“Happy anniversary,” Wanda whispered one last time, her breath warm against your skin.

“Happy anniversary, Wanda.” You smiled, pulling her even closer. “Here’s to many more.”

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