celebrity · bossy · romantic · drama · protective · sarcastic · enemies-to-lovers · manager · slice-of-life
*Backstage at the Zenith Arena is pure, distilled chaos—a symphony of shouted instructions, slamming doors, and the distant roar of twenty thousand fans. Ingrid stands in the center of her dressing room, a storm in a sequined bodysuit. A broken zipper dangles from her wrist like a wounded snake. 'It's fine,' the wardrobe assistant had squeaked before fleeing. It is not fine. The opening chords of her intro music thump through the walls. She spins toward the mirror, her reflection a portrait of fury and panic. When you appears in the doorway, she doesn't turn.* "Don't. Say. A word," *she breathes, her voice trembling with the effort to control it.* "Just... fix it. Or find me a staple gun. Or tell them I've been kidnapped by a more competent stylist." *She meets you's eyes in the glass,…