Singer!reader - Blog Posts

so uhh here's a list cuz there's a bunch for Jann cuz yeah he's Jann

Mornings with him

traveling with him

movie night

date night

night time routine (like face masks on eachother)

Jann meeting reader at a gig, they see eachother at a store and Jann recognizes R and they get eachothers phonenumber and they start hanging out and eventually dating (maybe a lil smut or a lot)

Marvel!AU OR Game of Thrones!AU or even as a Sith in Star Wars!AU

After Date Night (could be part 2 to date night and this is SMUTTY AF)

maybe another song of his like you did with Gladiator

Jann with hippie!reader cuz I never see a damn hippie reader (but not like crazy and unhygienic hippies, yk what I mean)

unable to sleep and Jann helps (fluff, and/or smut or maybe even to versions)

CUDDLES

going with him to Eurovision (imagine he actually went), maybe him winning Eurovision and at the hotel after (maybe extreme fluff or very very very smutty)

Jann's instagram when R and him are dating

R being sick and Jann takes care

Jann being sick and R takes care

R gets hurt and Jann gets a little help crazy like wont let her do a lot without him near incase something happens due to R's injury

yeah I got a lot more that I need to write down so I don't forget TY

So This Is Love | Jan Rozmanowski/Jann

Pairing: Jan Rozmanowski/Jann x reader (singer!reader)

Summary: Jann noticed you randomly during one of his gigs. Eventually, you both realize that you will be competing in Eurovision as you start to date and experience the love you have for each other.

Warning/s: long author's note (I'm sorry, but I had to say it cause it's important), possible grammar and spelling mistakes, smut, but like kind of. Explicit, but at the same time not really, idk.

Author's note: Okay, so right now my inbox is literally being stuffed with requests for Jann after I made that one fic, but I'm loving it so much. For this fic I want to say sorry because I couldn't include all of the stuff from the big request, but I included almost everything. I also got another Damiano David request so I will be getting around to that one as well after this so yeah. There will be more Jann imagines and always feel free to request and I will try to get around to everything. Anyway, enjoy!

(F/F) = favorite fruit

(Y/C) = your country

You were truly having the time of your life. You were jumping around with a few friends, dancing, laughing, just having fun on a free Friday night. It was ironic really, you wanted to stay at home and binge watch your favorite shows and sleep, but thanks to your friends you were dragged out in a club where some guy you have never heard of was performing.

You really didn't want to go, considering the fact that you didn't know the singer nor didn't you know any of his songs, but now you were so glad that your friends dragged you out of your apartment to have fun for a while. Even tho you were kind of annoyed, you were so thankful to your friends for this moment.

Now, as you looked at the singer, you noticed something. He was so gorgeous, so handsome. He was simply breathing and it made you speechless for a while. His voice what slightly rough, but he was hitting higher notes and it made you shiver, but in a pleasant way. He was so tall. His hair was a dirty shade of blonde that was perfectly falling on his shoulders. His eyes were piercing black in the dark room. Every inch of his face was proving you that he was an angel sent from heaven. It was truly hypnotizing.

Jan Rozmanowski was in his zone. He was gripping on the microphone as he sang his soul out in front of the crowd. However, somewhere among the crowd, all of a sudden, he stopped his gaze and got quite for a second or two. Thankfully, however, nobody noticed that little moment. Everyone was either too drunk to catch that or they just didn't care about that.

Jan spotted a beautiful, no, gorgeous girl dancing and laughing in the crowd. He was so mesmerized by her beauty that he wanted to stop his performance right there, right at that moment, just so he could talk to her. To get to know her. He felt his breath get caught up in his throat as he watched her sway around the room, her hair flying around her as she danced carelessly. He just couldn't wait to get off of the stage to go and to talk to her. However, once he was done with his performance and one he went to get himself a drink from the bartender, he noticed that she was gone.

But, as luck would have it, it seemed that the whole universe didn't want that to me your last meeting. You couldn't even call it a meeting, really. That was considering the fact that you didn't even get the chance to talk even a little bit. Luckily, you accidentally bumped into each other at the grocery store just two days after his performance in the bar.

You were snooping around the fruit section looking for (F/F). You probably didn't really watch where you were going when you kind of bummed against a tall guy. You felt leather material pressing against you as you did. You started spitting apologizes at the person you bummed into and he was doing the same. However, you felt as if somebody stole all of the air away from your lungs once you saw who you bumped into. It looked like Jan wasn't experiencing something much different from what you were experiencing at the moment.

"Are you stalking me, gorgeous?" He asked you in a playful manner and you couldn't believe that he actually noticed you among the busy crowd.

"I don't know." You couldn't help but blush a little as you talked to the handsome singer in front of you. "Are you stalking me? You know, bumping into each other in a grocery store... it a bit cheesy don't you think?" You joked.

"Perhaps it is." He laughed. "But you know. I am nothing if not cheesy for a pretty girl."

And so you talked. In the middle of the store, you talked for a very long while. It seemed like hours have passed unnoticeable, but you never got bored, never ran out of things to say to each other. After a while, you exchanged numbers and you said your goodbyes. Just as you got in your car, you noticed that your phone light up. Jan wrote you a message.

"Just making sure I got the right number. - Jan" The message said. You didn't even notice how quickly you grabbed a hold of your phone and started to type back a response.

"Yes, you have the right number. - Y/N" You wrote and not even a second later you got another text.

"Great, it would be a shame if I couldn't hang out with a beautiful girl I met at the gig anymore."

You continued to text each other for days until Jan invited you to go and grab a cup of coffee with him. You were so excited about the invitation, you couldn't wait to see him. And so, after you practically jumped down the stairs of your apartment, you stepped onto the cold, chilly weather as you started to walk towards a familiar caffe place. You walked in and immediately noticed him. Jan stood up as you approached him and gave you a hug that was just about as friendly and innocent as it could be.

You got talking and as you did that, you found out that he was still very new to the music industry just like you were. However, you quickly realized that he had much talent and you just knew deep in your heart and soul that he is going to accomplish great things. You also discovered that both of you were supposed to compete in a Eurovision song contest. You were both so surprised, but nevertheless so happy to find out that interesting piece of information.

Time seemed to fly by as you talked about everything and nothing. In fact, it flew by so fast that you didn't even notice how the light outside suddenly disappeared. You also noticed that it started to rain.

So after you paid for your coffees, you ran out into the rain. He was staying in a hotel not so far away from your apparent, so he strongly suggested that he should walk you home and so you had no chance but to accept his offer.

You were running around the city, laughing like a pair of teenagers. It was fine though, you felt like it anyways. You were soaking wet by the time that you got to your apartment. You didn't really know what it was.

Perhaps it was the tiredness, or the silly crush you both had on each other or perhaps it was the coldness that covered your bodies compelling you to find any sorce of heat. You truly didn't know what it was, but at that moment you got closer as you leaned against the door of your apartment. Jan and you could feel the hot breath on each other faces, looking longingly in each other's eyes before Jan finally broke the ice and pressed his lips against yours. And so you let him do just that. You were enchanted and it felt better that anything you have ever experienced.

After the start of the Eurovision song contest it felt like things were getting crazier. Once Jan and you were 100% sure that you will be representing your countries in Eurovision, you started to practice randomly at each other's apartments just for fun. Jan was competing with his song Gladiator and you were complimenting with your song El Diablo (A/N: let's be clear, I don't have any rights for this song, it's just for the sake of fic plus that is one of my favorite Eurovision songs so here you go).

After a while you both had to start with the process of packing for the contest, so it was safe to say that you didn't see each other for about a week because of the busy schedule up until you had to meet in Liverpool in United Kingdom for the competition.

It was all an emotional roller-coaster, truly. The competition was full of nervousness and joy and love and just amazing energy. You made some new friends and your relationship with Jan seemed to get stronger.

The weeks seemed to fly buy and so before you know it, the day to announce the winner has finally arrived. Poland and (Y/C) was sitting right next to each other as you anxiously waited for them to announce the winner. You were currently at 4th place and Jan was on second. Before you knew it, it was announced that Poland was the winner!

Jan and you jumped on each other and started to celebrate. You were hugging for so long that you eventually had to push him away so he could perform and get his prize. You felt utter, pure joy as you watched him sing his song Gladiator. You started to sing and dance, too. At that moment, it was like everyone was happy.

After your winner came down he quickly brought you into another hug and gave you a kiss. You could hear people around you cheer even louder, but you didn't really pay that much attention to them. You felt something else as you kissed him. It was a bit more different than your usual kiss. It was more passionate. More needy. It was full of longing. After that you had to attend a little after party and you just couldn't wait to go away for a bit. Luckily for you, all that wait was worth your while.

The moment that Jan and you walked into his hotel room, you were all over each other. Not like that wasn't a case the entire night, but still. He was kissing you so passionately, it was all oh so greedy. It was perfect.

Both of you slowly started to undress as you moved painfully slow towards the bed. Once you got there he slowly started to kiss your neck. After a while he started to slowly trail his kisses down your body.

"Are you sure?" He stopped to ask you that just as he was about to reach the place where you needed him the most at the moment.

And so, with a needy nodd from you it all began. It was safe to say that you were celebrating his win all night long.

Your life with Jan after you met him and after Eurovision only seemed to get better and better. It was as if it couldn't be more perfect.

You were sleeping in the bed, completely exhausted from the last night's activities. You were rudely woken up by a bright dim of the Sun coming through the window. You steached out in the bed noticing that your hair was spread out all over your pillow. Your hand accidentally fell onto the spot where your boyfriend was supposed to be laying in, but he wasn't. You found the other side of the bed to be completely cold. You groaned softly as you sat up, the sheets slowly falling down your naked body. You grabbed the first shirt that you could find and so you put on Jan's shirt and found out that it was truly to big for you. However, you didn't really care as you started to make your way towards the kitchen.

There he was. Jan was standing in the middle of the kitchen, shirtless, making coffee. As he noticed your presence, he turned around to face you. His messy hair falling perfectly onto his shoulders as his gorgeous crystal that represented his eyes looked at you.

"What are you doing up, gorgeous?" He asked you, his voice still raspy from the sleep. "I wanted to bring you coffee and breakfast in bed."

Yes, everything was truly perfect.

Timothée's tiny soulmate

Tiny hands, big love, and a dad wrapped around her finger.

pairings: Timothée Chalamet x Fem!reader

word count: 2.3K

warnings: Fluff, a bit of jerk Timothée for a few moments, childbirth

note: First chapter to my new series.. Girl Dad Diaries !

more here: Girl Dad Diaries masterlist, masterlist

You and Timothée had been married for two years, and today, December 27, just two days after Christmas, was his birthday. A week ago, you found out you were pregnant with his child. It hadn’t been planned, but neither of you was against the idea; if anything, it felt like perfect timing. To surprise him, you wrapped a small, slender box and tied a little bow on top. Inside, you placed five clean, positive pregnancy tests—your quiet, heartfelt way of saying, We’re having a baby. 

You also got him a new iPad for his birthday.

Why not? Right? Were you spoiling him? Maybe just a little. In five days, Timothée Chalamet was getting a brand-new MacBook, an iPad, and, though he didn’t know it yet, a baby. So yeah, you were spoiling him. But if anyone deserved it, it was him.

You woke up bright and early, long before he stirred. The house was still dark except for the faint glow of the Christmas lights strung across the living room, and the soft scent of cinnamon and pine lingered in the air from the candles you'd been lighting all week. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you tiptoed through the house, grabbing your slippers and hoodie before heading out to the garage. That’s where you’d hidden the gifts—you knew he wouldn’t think to check your car.

Moments later, you returned with both boxes in hand. One was a sleek Apple box, the other longer and thinner, wrapped with extra care and a little satin bow. You placed the thinner one 6to the side for now. That surprise would come last.

Carefully, you placed the iPad box on the bed and leaned over him, brushing the hair from his face. You kissed his forehead gently.

"My love," you whispered sweetly.

He groaned in protest, rolling over and tugging the blanket over his head. "Nooo..."

You giggled. "C'mon, birthday boy. Wake up."

He peeked out with one eye. His curls were a mess, his voice groggy. "What time is it?"

"Too early," you admitted, laughing softly, "but I couldn't wait."

He sighed dramatically. "This better be worth it."

You grinned and placed the gift on his chest. "It is. Open it."

He sat up slowly, yawning as he pulled at the wrapping paper. The second he saw the Apple logo, his eyes widened.

"No way..." he murmured. "You got me the iPad, too?"

You gave him an innocent shrug. "I mean, you need something portable for travel. The MacBook is for editing and writing, the iPad is for movies and drawing. Practical, right?"

He just stared at you. "You're insane."

"Maybe," you replied playfully, crawling back into bed beside him. "But I love you."

He leaned over and kissed you, lingering a bit longer than necessary. "I love you more. You really didn’t have to do this."

"I wanted to. You deserve it."

He was already powering it on, a boyish grin on his face. "Okay, yeah. This is amazing. You're amazing. I feel so spoiled."

You smiled to yourself, glancing at the still-wrapped box on the nightstand.

"Oh," you said casually, "there's one more."

He blinked, still distracted by his new iPad. "More? Babe, you already went overboard. What is it, socks? A sweater?"

You chuckled nervously. "Not exactly. Here. Open it."

You handed him the smaller, longer box, wrapped with a delicate little bow. He looked at you suspiciously but took it, tearing the wrapping slowly.

He lifted the lid and stared.

Five pregnancy tests. All positive. All clean. Lined neatly in a row.

His jaw dropped slightly. He didn’t say anything for a solid ten seconds.

"Wait..." he finally breathed. "Are these... are these real?"

You nodded, heart pounding. "I found out last week. I wanted to tell you in a special way. Surprise."

He looked back down at the tests, then up at you, eyes glassy with disbelief. "We're having a baby?"

You smiled, your voice soft. "Yeah. We are."

He let out a breathless laugh, dropping his head into his hands for a moment before looking at you again, overwhelmed but glowing. "Oh my god. I... I don't even know what to say."

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. "You don't have to say anything. Just hold me."

He pulled you into his arms immediately, holding you tighter than ever.

"This is the best birthday of my life," he whispered into your hair. "A MacBook, an iPad, and a baby? I don't think anything could top this."

You laughed. "Well, don't get used to this kind of treatment every year."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. "Too late. I'm officially spoiled for life."

The first trimester was a whirlwind of emotions and adjustments. You cried often—when your jeans didn’t fit, when nothing satisfied your hunger, or just because. Your body was changing fast, and so was your world. Timothée stayed grounded through it all, holding you close when you broke down, whispering soft reassurances. He even cleared out a guest room and began turning it into a nursery—the one with the big window you loved. Inspired by your love for stars, you both chose a space theme, spending countless hours researching baby essentials. Timothée was convinced it was a boy; you secretly hoped for a girl. You decided to wait until the birth to find out.

The second trimester brought a little relief from the nausea, but new aches took over. Leggings became your daily uniform, much to your embarrassment as a touring singer. Still, with Timothée’s unwavering support, you embraced the changes. You announced your pregnancy mid-tour, keeping the details private, and fans adored the mystery. Meanwhile, your craving for cucumbers spiraled—chopped, dipped, and topped with anything you could think of. Timothée kept a cooler of them backstage and even tried your wildest combos. You laughed, nested, your belly grew, and the nursery became a dreamy little galaxy.

By the third trimester, everything was harder. Sleep was a battle of pillows and shifting positions, and you were always too hot, too tired, or too emotional. Swollen fingers forced you to take off your rings—Timothée lovingly put them on a chain around your neck. Performing felt heavier, but fans cheered louder than ever when the baby kicked mid-song. Cravings got weirder, nesting became an obsession, and you repacked the hospital bag more times than you could count. Through it all, Timothée stayed close—singing to your belly, rubbing your feet, and reminding you how strong you were.

You were sore, swollen, and ready. Nervous, but full of love. The best part was just around the corner.

Then, the day finally came when your water broke. The hospital room buzzed with low voices and the steady beeping of machines, but all you could hear was your own heartbeat and the rhythmic sound of your breathing. Hours had passed in a blur of contractions and sweat, your grip on Timothée’s hand never loosening, even when your fingernails dug into his skin. He didn’t complain once. He stayed right beside you, brushing damp hair from your face, whispering encouragements through every cry, every wave of pain.

“You’re doing so good,” he kept saying. “He’s—uh—they’re almost here.” He still stumbled over the pronouns sometimes, trying to avoid guessing, but you could tell he hadn’t fully let go of the idea that it might be a boy.

You were too focused on surviving the next contraction to care.

Then, finally, it happened. One more push, one last scream—and the room exploded into sound. A sharp, high-pitched cry filled the air, and the doctor smiled as she lifted the baby up.

“It’s a girl,” she announced, beaming.

You blinked through your tears and turned to Timothée. But instead of the cheer or the gasp you’d expected, he went oddly quiet.

“A girl?” he repeated, more to himself than anyone else.

It wasn’t disappointment exactly—not in the way that stung. But for a moment, you saw the flicker in his expression. A beat of surprise. Of recalibration. He had been so sure. Had spoken to your belly like a boy was listening. Had joked about teaching “his son” guitar.

But before you could even speak, they placed her, tiny, pink, wailing, into his arms.

And everything changed.

Timothée looked down at her, and whatever expectation he had crumbled in an instant. His whole face softened, like someone had knocked the wind out of him in the gentlest way. His eyes brimmed with tears as he adjusted his hold on her, already protective, already in love.

“Elodie,” he whispered, like her name had been waiting on his tongue this whole time. “Hi, baby girl.”

Then he looked at you, and though he was clearly trying to be composed, his voice cracked as he admitted, “I thought I wanted a boy. But… she’s perfect. It was always supposed to be her.”

You smiled through your exhaustion, through your own tears, and reached for him, your daughter tucked between you like the softest miracle.

A week in the hospital felt like a slow dream, both calming and surreal. The days blurred into each other in a haze of soft lullabies, nurse check-ins, and the gentle hum of machines that beeped and blinked with their rhythm. Every few hours, someone would enter the room to examine Elodie, check your vitals, ask questions, and smile politely. The food was bland, the lighting too harsh, and the beds not quite soft enough, but none of that mattered. You had her. She was here.

Still, by day seven, you were aching for your home. For the nursery you'd spent months perfecting. For the quiet comfort of your bedroom, your candles, your robes, your slippers. And maybe, selfishly, just a little bit of time without a nurse barging in with a blood pressure cuff when the baby had just fallen asleep.

Timothée was practically bouncing by the time the discharge papers were signed. He packed everything up with the energy of a man who had trained for this moment his entire life. The hospital staff wheeled you down in a chair, your arms wrapped around the infant car seat where Elodie blinked sleepily, her tiny hat pulled low over her forehead. Timothée walked beside you like a proud golden retriever, loaded with bags, snacks, and the biggest grin you’d ever seen on his face.

He double-checked the car seat straps before you left the parking lot. Triple-checked them before pulling out. And then turned in his seat a dozen times during the drive, just to make sure she was still breathing.

When you finally stepped into your home, everything felt different. The air was warmer somehow, the rooms no longer silent but humming with new life. It was like the house had been holding its breath this whole time—and now, with her inside, it finally exhaled.

And from that moment on, Elodie was never far from Timothée’s chest.

You thought you’d be the one who couldn’t let her go, but Timothée became completely, utterly inseparable from your daughter. She was always in his arms, swaddled against his chest in that soft gray wrap he insisted on wearing everywhere. He wore her while making breakfast. While reading. While pacing the living room as she napped. He even wore her while brushing his teeth once. “She likes the vibration,” he shrugged, speaking like he was some kind of baby whisperer.

You joked that you were officially the third wheel now. He didn’t even argue.

Every few hours, when it was your turn to nurse or rock her to sleep, he’d hover just a few inches away. And the moment you were done, he’d scoop her right back up with a breathless, “I missed her.”

You laughed, but you understood. Because watching Timothée fall in love with Elodie was like watching gravity find him again. He melted into fatherhood. The actor, the performer, the dreamer—all of it quieted, softened, sharpened into something tender and fierce. She made him gentler. And braver.

He danced with her often, barefoot in the nursery under the soft light of the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling. He’d sway slowly, whispering, “You know you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, right?” His voice cracked sometimes when he said it. As if he couldn’t believe she was real either.

One night, while you were still adjusting to night feeds and the ache in your body, you found him on the nursery rug with Elodie tucked on his chest. He was humming “Landslide,” eyes closed, tears glistening at the corners. When he saw you, he smiled and whispered, “She likes Fleetwood Mac. She's got taste already.”

He called her his tiny soulmate. You didn’t even mind that he barely looked at you anymore, because when he did, it was usually to say, “Look at her. Just look.”

He was so in love with Elodie that it was almost comedic. One morning, after pulling her gently from your arms, he sat beside you and muttered, “I’d throw myself in front of a bus for her.”

You blinked at him. “You just met her.”

He nodded, serious. “If there was a shooter, I’d use you as a human shield to protect her.”

You stared, speechless.

He gave a crooked little smile. “Don’t take it personally. You had your moment. This one’s hers now.”

But even in all the humor, you could see it. The way she had rewired something in him. His entire world now existed in the space between her breaths.

He wore her in a carrier everywhere: around the house, to the grocery store, even while standing outside in the backyard doing nothing but watching the sky. He kissed her head more times than you could count. He cried the first time she grabbed his finger with intention. He cried harder the first time she smiled.

And you watched it all—this beautiful, chaotic, overwhelming new rhythm of your lives—and thought: We’re going to be okay.

You had your little girl.

And she had the man who would move heaven and earth just to keep her warm.

i know i should be writing scarlet instead of this (i promise im cooking tho) but how much would u guys enjoy like all the stuff behind y/n and chris?? I'm thinking album covers and spotify, instagram and stuff.

♡Scarlet - Part 1♡

Warnings: use of Y/N Word count: 800

Y/N’s life looked perfect from the outside.

A platinum-selling popstar by 21, her face was plastered on billboards, magazines, and perfume ads. She had a smile people called america’s sweetheart and a wardrobe curated to match—every outfit was coordinated and perfected, delicate bows, nothing too bold, too controversial. She was the music industry’s golden girl, the dream they packaged and sold to the world.

But behind the staged interviews and perfectly scripted moments, she was exhausted.

"Sit up straight. Smile more. Don’t laugh too loudly." Her manager’s voice rang in her ears even when he wasn’t there. It had been like this since she was sixteen, when her first single blew up and the industry decided she was their next barbie doll.

She wasn’t allowed to post without approval. Her interviews were filtered. Her dating life? Nonexistent. Or rather it was all manufactured for PR—fake relationships, fake drama, all controlled to keep the fake fans invested but never too invested.

"Scandals ruin careers," they told her. "You’re not like those other artists. You have a brand to protect."

And she had listened. For years, she listened.

Even now, sitting in the back of a sleek black SUV on her way to a meeting, she could hear the same lecture coming.

"We have to talk about your image," her manager, Seth, started from the passenger seat. His clipboard sat on his lap, covered in notes she wasn’t allowed to see yet.

"Your last interview was good, but the fans are picking up on some… discrepancies."

Y/N sighed and adjusted the black satin bow in her hair. "Discrepancies?"

"Yes. You hesitated when they asked about your love life. You need to be more firm when denying rumors. The last thing we want is people thinking you’re sneaking around with someone."

She bit the inside of her cheek. "But I’m not sneaking around with anyone."

"Exactly," Seth said. "So let’s keep it that way."

Her grip tightened around her phone. It wasn’t just dating. It was everything. What she wore, what she posted, even how she spoke—all filtered through a team that saw her less as a person and more as a product.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she smiled. Nodded. Pretended she didn’t feel the walls closing in.

Chris Sturniolo however, didn’t pretend for anyone.

If Y/N’s life was perfectly polished, Chris’s was the opposite—chaotic and unfiltered

A rapper who built his career from scratch, he was raw talent with a reckless mouth. The industry hated that they couldn’t control him, and he loved pissing them off.

He didn’t play by their rules.

He spoke without thinking, called out fake bullshit in interviews, and ignored every PR crisis his team begged him to address. The fans loved it. The brands? Not so much.

"Chris you gotta stop picking fights on X," his manager, Josh sighed as they walked into the studio.

"You’re already on thin ice with nike after that last stunt."

Chris scoffed, pushing open the door. "Bro they started it. I’m not gonna sit there and let some upper class business puppet talk shit about me."

Josh rubbed his temples. "You called him an upper class business puppet first."

"And?"

Chris didn’t care. He didn’t need sponsorships. He had music—real music. He wasn’t some label manufactured star who needed to be told what to say or how to act. He wrote his own lyrics, controlled his own sound, and if people had a problem with that, well they could go fuck themselves.

"You remember that popstar chick I told you about?" Josh cut in, changing the subject before Chris could go on another rant.

Chris raised a brow. "Which one?"

"The one your label wants you to collab with. Y/N Y/L/N."

Chris stopped walking.

Her?

The name wasn’t unfamiliar. He had seen her everywhere—perfect smile, perfect outfits, music that dominated the charts. She was the type of artist the industry loved to control.

Chris smirked. "They seriously think me and her make sense?"

Josh sighed. "It’s strategic. She’s pop’s prized posession, you’re the industry’s problem child. People eat up that contrast."

Chris chuckled, shaking his head. He knew how this game worked. Pairing them together wasn’t about making good music—it was about making headlines.

"Whatever," he said, pulling out his phone. "As long as the song’s fire, I don’t care." But deep down he was a little curious.

Chris was about to find out if there was anything real beneath that polish.

𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒕 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

♡Scarlet - Chris Sturniolo♡

𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚑𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚑𝟽𝟹𝟻 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚜...

𝑺𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒆𝒕, 𝒂 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝑺𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

"𝓢𝓸 𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓮𝓽 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓼...𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓷"

Pairing: rapper!chris x popstar!reader Warnings: explicit content, manipulation, mature themes, toxic behavior, and intense emotional struggles. mentions of self-doubt, anxiety, and unhealthy relationship dynamics

"You know you've got me right?"

"I didn’t ask for this."

"Doesn’t matter. I’m still here."

𝑺𝑪𝑨𝑹𝑳𝑬𝑻 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻

I'm gonna credit the following writers and their works on rapper chris and singer reader below

@chrissturnsfav

@chrissdollie

@liiixsturniolos

@55sturn

@chrattvibe

+ anyone else who has ever written something with this dynamic or something similar.

All parts of Scarlet will be located under the ♡◇scarlet◇♡ tag

Comment on this post to be added to the Scarlet taglist

Sleepytime

Rapper!chris x singer!reader Content: tooth rotting fluff, thats basically it Status: established relationship

credit: @liiixsturniolos for inspiration

Note: this is my first time writing in 2nd person so hope you like it🩵

Chris had been restless all day. You could tell from the way he kept bouncing his knee at dinner, his fingers tapping out a beat on the table while you tried to tell him about your studio session earlier. He wasn’t being rude—not intentionally. You knew his mind was elsewhere. It usually was when he got stuck in his creative process.

Now it was well past midnight, and you were curled up on the couch in his apartment, your legs draped over his lap as a late-night sitcom hummed quietly in the background. Chris’s arm rested loosely on your shin, his fingers drawing patterns on your skin while he stared off into the distance.

“You’re still thinking about that verse, aren’t you?” you asked softly, breaking the quiet.Chris blinked, his gaze snapping back to you. “Huh?”

“The one you couldn’t finish earlier. You’re stuck.”

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch. “Yeah. It’s like... I can hear what I want it to sound like, but I can’t figure out the words. It’s just frustrating, ya know?”

You nodded. You’d been there before—those days when the music felt just out of reach,it was like trying to grab water with your hands.

“You’re overthinking it,” you said gently. “You always do it when you’re tired.”

Chris groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Probably. But y'know I can’t turn my brain off. It’s like every time I close my eyes, the beat’s just there, looping over and over again.”

You shifted, sitting up a little straighter. “Maybe you just need to relax,” you suggested. “Do something to take your mind off it.”

“Will you sing to me?” he asked, his tone bordering on desperate. You hesitated and raised an eyebrow, your lips twitching into a small smirk.

“Sure,” you said with a laugh. Chris stretched out on the couch, his head resting on the armrest, and you pulled a blanket over him. His legs were long enough that they hung off the other end, and you couldn’t help but smile at how he looked—a little less like the confident tough rapper the world saw and more like the teddy bear boy you knew.

It had to be something soft, something calming, something... meaningful.

You started humming first, letting the melody settle in the quiet space between you. Then, softly, you began to sing one of your favorite songs—a gentle one that had always felt like home to you. Your voice was low and steady, the lyrics flowing like a gentle stream.

Chris’s eyes fluttered closed almost immediately, his breathing slowing as he listened. The hand rested on his chest that was tapping ruthyms, suddenly stopped.

“Damn,” he murmured after a minute, his voice barely audible. “You sound good, ma.”

You smiled, pausing for a moment to reply. “It’s not like you haven’t heard me sing before.”

“Not like this,” he said, his voice muffled against the skin of your thighs. “It’s...different.”

Your fingers brushed through his hair, the soft curls springing back into place after each pass. As the song ended, you switched to another.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his voice heavy with sleep.

“I wasn’t planning to,” you said quietly, the words like a promise.

You kept singing, your voice wrapping around the room like a warm blanket. And as you did, you noticed the way Chris’s body sank deeper into the couch, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

Eventually, his breathing evened out completely, and you realized he’d fallen asleep.

For a moment, you just watched him. He looked so peaceful, his features softened in a way you didn’t get to see often. The weight of his public persona—the cool, confident rapper everyone adored—was gone, leaving behind just Chris.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight,” you whispered.

There was something about moments like this—quiet, simple, and unglamorous—that made everything else in life feel a little easier.

Maybe tomorrow, Chris would wake up with the words he’d been looking for. But tonight, you’d given him what he really needed.

Rest.

Dividers by me, please tag if you use as inspiration🩵

Get to know rapper!chris x singer!reader!!

SINGER!READER

Genre: pop, indie-pop

Similar artists: Madison Beer, Sabrina Carpenter, Billie Eillish

Albums and covers (coming soon)

Gained Fame: In 2021, Y/N started making music after her boyfriend cheated on her and their messy breakup, she put all of her feelings into songs and decided her new life started at that moment. She tested with sounds and one day she randomly posted them out of nowhere. Her confidence, however, skyrocketed when she only got maybe 1000 monthly listeners after about 3 months. She gave up and continued with life as if nothing happened.

In 2023, a beloved artist named Gracie Abrams, noticed her pathetic music and reached out. Y/N, much to her dismay, of course said yes when Gracie asked to do a collaboration with her. The song blew up on tik tok and other social media platforms and Y/N’s 6 songs soon started rising. Rooftops, a song about her ex, was #14 on the top 200 in the US. Gracie and her became good friends and Y/N got into song writing again.

Cute little headcanons:

Singer!y/n, who doesn't pay attention to rude or sexualising comments about her body but Chris does. When they're out in public and Chris hears someone say one thing about her, he’s practically on top of them and he’s not scared to beat the shit out of them.

Singer!y/n, who keeps a notebook full of random lyrics inspired by overheard conversations, half of which make absolutely no sense at all, but are oddly poetic

Singer!y/n, who insists on hand signing fan’s posters because it's more “personal” even if it takes hoursSinger!y/n, who will stop a concert mid way if she sees a sign or an outfit that she loves just to compliment that person.

Singer!y/n, who loves making up dumb tik tok dances to her songs just for funSinger!y/n, who’s fans are called the most ridiculous name. It started as a joke but now it's a part of her brand.

Singer!y/n, who takes a polaroid picture with her team before every show

Singer!y/n, who gets nervous before award shows, so Chris shows her his “pre game hype” which consists of terrible dancing and a not so helpful pep talk in a mirror

RAPPER!CHRIS (CHRI$)

Genre: hip hop, rap (obviously)

Similar artists: Playboi Carti, The Kid LaROI, Lil Skies

Albums and covers (coming soon)

Gained fame: Chris started his career more recently at the beginning of 2024. Because of the youtube channel, Chris didn't need to be famous for his music. About mid 2024, his music started to get recognized by more than just Sturniolo Triplets fans. Playboi Carti actually liked Chris’s music for what it was.

On Carti’s tik tok, he posted a video with one of Chris’s songs as the sound. Don't know how this made Chri$ more popular but his listens blew up hours later. 11 million monthly listeners quickly went to 30 in less than a month.

Cute little headcanons:

Chri$, who always kept his word, and has never done drugs, drank alcohol, or smoked a vape or cigarette in his life.

Chri$, who’s concerts are the most wild and fun thing ever. The energy in the sold out stadiums is exhilarating and the fans in the front row will probably not be able to hear anything else for days.

Chri$, who makes sure that you are always comfortable and happy no matter what you’re doing.

Chri$, who has your stuff scattered everywhere. He’s got hair ties on his wrist, your hairbrush in his car, and your clothes are all over the place.

Chri$, who once hung a pair of your panties on the rear view mirror in his car because the color “complimented” the vibe

Chri$, who never lets you pay for anything. This man will do everything and anything to make sure your card never sees daylight. Sometimes he steals your wallet before you even leave the car.

Fics to look forward to: (I obviously have not been busy)

Sleepytime - Chris asks Y/N to sing him to sleep one night

Model - Y/N’s manager needs to meet with her about upcoming tour outfits but Chris is not having it with her leaving

Noise Complaints - Late night studio sessions in Y/N’s apartment lead to awkward run ins with the neighbors

Pink Sweater Season - Chris borrows Y/N’s favorite oversized pink sweatshirt for a music video and the internet has questions.

Off Key Apologies - After a heated argument, Chris writes a very pathetic song as an apology but Y/N doesn't want to hear it

Mute - A mic on a live stream reveals way too much about how Chris feels about Y/N

Paper House - The power went out and the house is quiet so Chris and Y/N decide to build houses out of cards.

Stage Left - A surprise performance during Chris’ tour has the crowd cheering—and Y/N wondering where she stands with Chris

Signs - Chris finds an old playlist you made for him and realizes the feelings were there all along—he just missed the signs.

Second Verse - Chris struggles to finish a song about…love and how he hates to admit how much the second verse sounds like you.

REQUESTS!!

Rapper!Chris x Singer!reader Headcanons (sfw 1)

I'm guilty of being a slut for rapper!chris so i needed to make one myself. I want this to be a whole series so there will be a lot more🫶🫶

Rapper!Chris...who sneaks backstage at your concerts with VIP passes disguised as a fan and surprises you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers after the show just so he can see the surprised look on your face.

Rapper!Chris...who makes it his mission to feature you in one of his songs. He plays the demo on repeat all day everyday until you agree to collaborate.

Rapper!Chris...who writes lyrics that he claims "aren't about anyone," but everyone can tell they're filled with references to you from small mentions of your favorite color to a lyric from one of your own songs.

Rapper!Chris...who sends you voice memos at 2 in the morning when he’s inspired. They are filled with rough drafts of lyrics about you that are sweet, funny, and occasionally ridiculous. Occasionally theres a lot of dirty ones.

Rapper!Chris...who casually promotes your songs by “accidentally” mentioning them on live streams calling them fire and insisting his fans check the songs out immediately.

Rapper!Chris...who gets defensive if anyone criticizes you or your music, ready to go on a rant about how they don’t understand real talent.

Rapper!Chris...who casually wears your tour merch to his own shows, sparking rumors about your relationship among fans because he can’t help but support you even in (not so small) ways.

Rapper!Chris...who always reserves a VIP seat at his concerts just for you and when he spots you in the crowd, he throws a wink or a quick shoutout in his lyrics, making the audience scream.

Rapper!Chris...who memorizes all your songs, even the unreleased ones and hums them in the studio, inspiring everyone to think he has new material when he's really just admiring your work.

mood board and extras coming soon!

Inspiration came from mainly 2 accounts and others who have done this before: @chrissturnsfav, and @chrissdollie