Gracie Abrams x Female Reader
Summary : you comfort Gracie before her show.
Warnings : puppy gracie, anxious Gracie, head over heels reader, anything you want reader, fluff.
Gracie sat on the dressing room couch, her knee bouncing anxiously as she clenched her hands so tightly her knuckles turned white. The distant hum of fans arriving, the crew setting up, the anticipation hanging in the air—it all made her nerves spike.
She had performed in front of hundreds before, but something about tonight felt different. Maybe it was the growing expectations, the sheer exhaustion of tour life catching up to her, or the fear of not living up to the love her fans had for her. Either way, you could see the worry clouding her usually bright eyes.
you knelt in front of her, taking her hands gently, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. "Hey," you said softly. "Talk to me."
She let out a shaky breath, her grip tightening around mine. "What if I mess up? What if I forget the lyrics? What if they don’t have fun?"
you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, cutting off her spiral. "You’re going to be incredible," you murmur, your lips brushing against her skin. "You always are."
Her shoulders relaxed slightly, but the fear hadn’t completely left her. you could tell her mind was still racing, so you leaned in again, this time kissing her lips—slow, gentle, grounding. She melted into it, her fingers untangling from each other and instead curling around my wrists, holding on like she was anchoring herself.
When you pulled back, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a silky ribbon—a soft, warm shade of pink, the kind you knew she loved. Her eyes widened as you carefully tied it around the base of her microphone, your fingers, tight, making sure the knot was secure but delicate.
"For good luck," you say, smoothing it down.
She blinked at it, then at you, lips parting slightly. "You got a ribbon?"
you shrug, smiling. "I know how much you like bows. Figured I’d bring a little bit of me with you on stage."
Her lips wobbled, and before you could react, she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around my neck in a desperate, grateful hug. "I love you."
you hugged her back just as tightly, pressing another kiss to her temple. "I love you too. And I’ll be right here, watching, cheering you on."
She pulled back slightly, resting her forehead against yours. "Stay backstage? Until I come off?"
"Of course," you promise, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I’ll be the loudest one clapping."
She laughed softly at that, finally seeming to relax a little more. Her fingers brushed over the ribbon tied around her mic, her breathing steadier now. "Okay," she said, a real smile breaking through. "I’m ready."
Before she stood up, you pulled her in closer and pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her neck. I felt her shiver slightly, her breath catching. "You’re safe," you whispered against her skin. "You’ve got this, baby. Just sing like you always do. I’ll be right here."
She let out a small, content sigh, leaning into me for just a moment before finally standing. "That helped more than you know," she admitted with a tiny smirk.
As she walked toward the stage entrance, she turned back one last time, her eyes locking onto yours. "Don’t go anywhere."
"Never," you assure.
The moment she stepped onto the stage, the crowd erupted, and the bow around her mic caught the light perfectly, a small reminder that you were right there with her. And as you watch her take a deep breath before singing her first note, you knew—she was going to be just fine.
But instead of staying backstage, you decided to slip into the crowd. It wasn’t a massive stadium; it was a small venue—maybe a thousand people tops—but that made it feel even more intimate. you found a spot near the middle, blending in with the fans, who were already buzzing with excitement. The moment Gracie spotted you, her smile widened, and for a second, she missed her cue, laughing into the mic.
you grinned and started singing along, shouting her lyrics like any other fan, jumping up and down with the crowd. It didn’t take long for people around me to realize who you were, whispers spreading as eyes flicked between the both of you. She kept looking your way, her expression softening every time your eyes met. Then, during the '21' chorus, she pointed right at you, laughing mid-line, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe you were out there singing along like a complete dork.
But how could you not? when knowing it could make her show that stupid grin.
Someone squealed besides you, and suddenly the energy shifted—everyone was hyped, some even turning their phones toward you, capturing the way Gracie kept smiling at you between lyrics. It was like your own little moment, right there in the middle of the crowd.
During the bridge, she walked to the edge of the stage, kneeling down slightly, still singing but looking directly at you, her face flushed red from smiling so hard. It felt like the whole room faded away, just the two of you locked in this quiet, overwhelming moment. The way her eyes shone under the stage lights, the way she sang each lyric like it was meant for you and only you—it made your heart ache in the best way.
By the time the song ended, she shot you a playful look, mouthing, "I see you," before turning back to the audience with a giddy laugh. And in that moment, under the bright stage lights, surrounded by fans who adored her just as much as you did, you knew one thing for certain—this was where you were meant to be, cheering her on, loving her with everything you had.
When the show ended, Gracie practically sprinted backstage, still breathless, still buzzing with the high of performing. The second she saw you, she crashed into your arms, sweaty and exhilarated, her breath warm against your neck.
"You snuck into the crowd," she accused, but her voice was full of laughter.
"Guilty," you joked. "Best seat in the house."
She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes glowing with something soft and overwhelming. "You’re insane."
"For you? Always."
She kissed you then, still breathless, still smiling, her fingers gripping the front of your shirt like she never wanted to let go. And as the noise of the venue buzzed around us, as the crew bustled and fans chattered outside.
you reach up, brushing her damp hair back, pressing another kiss to her forehead. "Proud of you," you whispered, and her grip on you tightened.
"Wouldn’t have done it without you," she murmured, her lips grazing your cheek. "The ribbon worked."
you grinned, your fingers tracing over the soft fabric still tied around her mic. "Told you it was good luck."
And as she laughed against your skin, her arms wrapped around you like you were her anchor, you knew one thing for sure—you’d tie a thousand more ribbons if it meant she’d always feel this safe with you.
