running a semi fan account
you and semi have been married for years—secretly married. no one in the public sphere has the slightest clue—not his fans, not the media, not even most of his closest friends. it’s your little secret—a bubble you both protect fiercely.
you keep your personal instagram lowkey—some casual selfies, food pics, the occasional travel shot. nothing flashy, nothing to attract too much attention. then there’s your stan account—a totally different vibe. this is where you’re the ultimate semi fangirl, posting unreleased photos, candid moments from shows, screenshots of interviews, even the occasional silly meme you know semi would roll his eyes at.
semi knows about the stan account—he catches your notifications sometimes and always lets out this dry, “seriously?” but he never tells you to stop. maybe because he secretly loves it.
the stan account isn’t without drama, though. some fans call you obsessed—a stalker even. people accuse you of crossing boundaries, posting private pictures, and being “too much.” but honestly? you’re not bothered. you just laugh it off with a shake of your head. it’s all just shits and giggles to you—fans being dramatic is nothing new.
then one day, the unimaginable happens. semi—the man who follows exactly zero people on social media—suddenly follows not just your stan account but also your personal one on his official public profile.
the fandom explodes. theories run wild. “is he going to sue her for privacy invasion?” “maybe they’re secretly dating.” “or is this some weird way to put a stop to her?”
semi’s fans start bashing you on your stan account—the usual accusations of being a creepy stalker—but again, you brush it off. the comments are childish, and honestly, you have better things to do than waste energy on anonymous trolls.
but then it spreads to your personal account—and suddenly, it’s different. people start face-shaming—calling you ugly, mocking your photos, making comments that hit below the belt. stuff that’s not about obsession or fandom anymore—it’s personal, targeted, and cruel.
you’re still unfazed. you’ve got thick skin. those comments bounce right off. you delete a few, block some accounts—but mostly you ignore it because you know this internet drama will blow over.
semi, on the other hand, doesn’t take it lightly. he watches you scrolling through the hate one night, his jaw tightening with every nasty comment you show him.
“hey,” he says quietly, voice low but serious. “they’re messing with the wrong person.”
you give him a tired smile, “it’s just the internet, eita. you know how it goes.”
“doesn’t mean i have to like it.” he grabs your phone, his fingers brushing over your screen like he’s wiping away the bad vibes.
the next day, you wake up to a notification flood. on your stan account, semi’s posted a selfie—him kissing you softly on the lips, his hand cupping your cheek, the wedding band shining unmistakably.
caption: “meet my wife. the only fan i follow.”
the fandom goes ballistic. social media explodes. news outlets pick up on the story. semi trends worldwide for days.
and somewhere in the middle of it all, you just laugh. you turn to semi, eyes sparkling, “see? told you it was all just shits and giggles.”
he smiles, brushing your hair behind your ear, “yeah. but some jokes stop being funny when they’re about you.”
you lean into him, “guess it’s good you’re here to remind me.”
he pulls you close, “always. i’ve got your back—in public, private, and everywhere in between.”
and just like that, your secret’s out. but it’s no longer a secret you’re afraid of. it’s a secret you’re proud of—because it’s yours. and his.
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