Celebrity Imagines

You'd just graduated from college, and every job you got was really shitty. Finally, you met up with your best friend from college, and pitched your idea to start your own business.

Her family was loaded, and you knew her father liked to back small companies in his free time. He was a CEO or something, made more money than anyone needed. She set up a meeting, and when you met you pitched your idea.

You went to school for technical engineering, and you'd tinkered with and basically rebuilt every phone you'd had since you were 14. You pitched a new tech company specializing in phones, computers and tablets.

He loved it, told you to give him a month or so, and to adjust your business plan to include more advancements and more shareholders. You did, and before you knew it, you had a new office, a full staff and 30 million dollars to do with as you pleased.

You broke in through the tablet market. It was smaller, and sales were looking good. Within a year, you were able to pay off your college debts, and move into a nice condo in silicone valley. You were definitely not rich, but you knew if things went well over the next few years you would be.

You sighed as you got home, dropping onto your couch with a groan. You'd been working non-stop for almost a month. In fact, your last break had probably been three months ago. Your friends forced you out of the lab, to go to a Beyonce concerts in town. You felt bad for being so busy, so you went. You were not very social, so you wanted to keep the few friends you had happy. A lot of it was anxiety, which led to you not having many relationships and none of them being serious. You decided that maybe you wouldn't really have what other people had.

A your phone ringing drew you from your thoughts, and you answered without checking the name, "hello?"

"Hi, is this Y/N," an unfamiliar voice asked, causing you to from.

"Yeah, who is this," you sit up.

"Ok, please hold. There's someone who wants to speak with you," the line was put on hold before you could respond.

Feeling anxious, you wait as the line plays typical hold music. Finally, it clicks back on and a slightly familiar voice speaks.

"Y/N," the voice is deep, but definitely female.

"Um...yes, this is Y/N," you answer wearily, "who is this?"

"We met a few months ago, at a concert," The voice sounds amused.

"I didn't meet anyone at-" you stop yourself, because you did meet someone, but there was, "no way."

*Three months ago*

"You," the security guard approached you, as you stood near the first aid tent, "are you ok? What happened?"

You sigh in frustration, "Are Beyonce fans all so crazy? I guess I was blocking someone's child's view of her on stage so the lady basically attacked me with her fake nails!"

"We're so sorry ma'am," the security guard offered a sympathetic smile, "Beyonce saw from stage, she asked that I come check on you and bring you back stage."

"Back stage," You frown in confusion.

"There are VIP seats there, you can watch the rest of the show from there," he filled you in.

"Oh, I'm not sure that's necessary," you felt anxiety at the thought of you being separated from your friends, "I came with my friends and I don't want to worry them."

"We'll inform them of the change, and arrange for transportation to take you or them home if you came together in one car. Beyonce feels really bad, she saw the whole thing on stage."

"I..."

"She insists," he gives you an amused smile, and you give in.

"Ok," you nod, just as the medic finishes wrapping your arm.

The security guard leads you back stage, and your phone vibrates with a few texts from your friends freaking out that you're going to meet Beyonce and asking if you're ok. You tell them you are, and watch from he new angle as Beyonce performs. You never really paid attention to celebrities after middle School, because you'd been so focused on your passions that nothing else mattered. But, watching her this close makes your stomach flutter with butterflies.

She catches your eye, and smiles warmly at you, before going back to her performance. You blush, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. It doesn't go away until the show is over, and she's heading right towards you.

"Hey," she greets you, "I saw what was happening out there. Are you alright."

"Nothing a little bandage couldn't fix," you shrug it off, "thank you for this. You didn't have to."

"I wanted to," she smiles, leading you further backstage, "I hate to see people fighting, especially at my concerts."

"It was less of a fight and more of an attack," you grumble, causing her to laugh at the look on your face.

"You're cute," she enters her dressing room, allowing you in before the door closes.

"Um...thanks," you say awkwardly, taking your offered seat.

This earns another laugh, as she looks at you, "I like you, what's your name?"

"Y/N," you almost stutter, but manage to say it normally...ish.

"Y/N," she repeats with a nod, "it fits you."

*Present Time*

"There's no way Beyonce just called me," you shake your head.

She laughs, although it seems more strained than last time you heard it, "I definitely did call you, unless you know another Beyonce?"

"Um...not to be rude, because you're more than welcome to," you ramble, "but...why did you call me?"

"I wanted to talk to you," she seemed really nervous all of a sudden, "but not over the phone. Is there anywhere we can meet?"

"Well," you scratch your chin in thought, "I guess you can come here to my place. I'm sure you would get recognized everywhere else."

"That's fine," she agrees after a moment, "this is my assistant's phone, just text her the address. I can't make it today, but maybe tonight?"

"Yeah," you agree, "I'm off for the next few days so just come by whenever works for you. Can I ask if everything is ok?"

"I don't know," she laughs a little, "maybe it is, but you'll understand soon."

"Ok," you say awkwardly, "um...I guess I'll see you soon."

"You will," she agrees.

"Ok then," you clear your throat, "bye?"

"Bye, Y/N," you can hear the smile even through the phone.

The call ends, and you sigh. What could she possibly want? The last time you saw her, at the concert, you were sure would be the last time. You were you and she was Beyonce.

*Three months ago*

"So, what do you do," she took off her makeup, looking at you in the mirror.

"I own a software company," you admit, "it's still small but," you shrug.

"That's amazin," she gives you a smile.

"Thanks," you feel a little boost to your confidence at that.

You speak for what feels like hours, and she comes to sit next to you. Your legs brush, and she rests a hand on your knee. The air changes suddenly, and she gets a mischievous look in her eyes.

"So how did you like the show," she stood to grab something from her closet.

"The first half was really impressive until I got attacked," you chuckle, "my friends are big fans, and I see why now."

"You're not a fan," she looks at you over her shoulder, an eyebrow raised as she pulls out a robe and what looks like... underwear?

"I really don't have much time to do anything but work," you admit, "I don't listen to much music unless my intern plays it while we work."

"That makes sense," she slips behind a changing wall that hides very little. You can see her outline perfectly. Even her nippl- what the hell, look away!

You look down at your lap.

"So this company you own," she speaks, tossing her costume off to the side, "what is it for?"

"We make everyday technology," you feel more comfortable talking about your work, and trying not to stare at her perfect outline in the shadows behind the changing wall, "Tablets, phones, computers. We've only been at it for a little over a year, but out first line of tablets are selling really well."

"You sound like you really like your work," she calls out to you, stepping back from behind the wall, "what else do you really like?"

Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you realize she's only in a robe and a very small one at that. She's smirking, and she walks closer to you as she sits in your lap.

"You've been looking at me all night like you wanna undress me," she whispers in your ear, "I guess I just wanna make it easier for you. You look a little too nervous to undo the costume."

"But what about Jay," you know she's married, with a daughter....

"We're separated," she shook her head, "I was tired of him cheating on me. I didn't want to become my mother. But he's not important right now. You are."

*Present Time*

She comes over at around midnight. You were in bed, asleep when the doorbell rang. Getting up, you fix your sleep shirt and shorts so they aren't all twisted when you answer the door. Grumbling, you wonder who the fuck goes to someone's door at midnight on a Wednesday. Swinging open the door with a curse on your lips, you freeze when you see her standing there with a slight smile.

"Can I come in," she looks around nervously, probably looking for paparazzi.

"Yeah, sorry," you step aside, letting her in.

You lead her to the living room, and sit down on the couch opposite her as you wait awkwardly for her to talk. Finally she sighs, and runs a hand through her hair.

"I know the last time we saw each other I was...out of character," she frowns, "I really can't tell you why I acted like that. I just saw you, and I had to have you."

"Well, I'm not really complaining," you try to lighten the situation, "I've never had a woman so beautiful want me like that. Or any woman, honestly." You mumble that last part, so she won't hear it.

Her face changes, "no one? Ever?"

"Well I mean," you shift in embarrassment, "I had one actual girlfriend, but she broke up with me when she found out about...you know. Everyone else were just dates and flirting. I'm just painfully awkward."

It wasn't that you didn't think you were attractive. You know you are, it's just that... you're not like normal girls and that usually freaks girls out.

Beyonce's eyes drop to your lap, and you swear you think you see her lick her lips a little. Shaking your head, you clear your throat and cross your legs so she can't look at it anymore. Your shorts were thin, and if she kept giving you that look you know for a fact she would be able to see how much it affected you. You doubt she came all this way to stare at your dick.

"So before that night, you never," she even seemed too embarrassed to ask if she took your virginity.

"No," you look down, ashamed.

"Hey, don't be ashamed," she reaches over to lift your chin, "it's nothing bad. I just feel really bad for taking advantage of you. If I had known, I wouldn't have...well, things would have been different."

"Is that why you're here," you finally ask, "because we had sex? I won't tell anyone, and I haven't told."

"No, it's not about that," she sighs in frustration, "well it is, but I'm not here to keep you quiet. There's something we need to talk about, and you need to go see a doctor."

"Did you give me something or-"

"No, of course not," she cuts you off, "if anyone gave anyone something it's you."

"I'm clean," you are really offended by that.

"No, Y/N," she puts her hand on your knee, "let me explain. You need to go to your doctor because whatever they told you when you were younger about not being able to have kids is wrong."

"What," you feel like you just swallowed your tongue.

She looks down, "I'm pregnant," she sighs, "three months. I haven't been with Jay for almost six and you're the only other person..."

"You," your eyes are glued to her stomach...

"Y/N," she says quietly, "say something," she begs.

"I'm gonna be a mom," you feel sick, "what am I gonna tell my parents? They're gonna kill me! I'm only 23 how am I supposed to... I can't-"

"You don't have to," she cuts you off, defensive, "I don't need you to raise these babies. I can do this on my own, I just wanted to give them a chance to know you but I can just go and you'll never hear from us again."

You only register one part of that whole sentence, "babies?"

Everything goes black.