Taylor Swift x Reader Imagines(GxG)

Cheerleader (Angst)

BIG TW: This contains Self harm as well as mentions of Suicidal Thoughs
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We won.

God, we actually won.

The lights were still blinding. The music still thundered in my chest. Glitter clung to my skin like it was stitched in, and the trophy—massive, gold, ours—was solid in my arms. Screams tore through the air, laughter, tears, bodies jumping in pure chaos.

Coach Taylor stood off to the side like a statue carved from steel—arms crossed, jaw tight, clipboard still in her hands like she hadn’t allowed herself even a second to breathe.

But when our eyes met, her whole face shifted.

Just for me.

Because I’d nailed the final stunt. Because I hadn’t wavered. Because I’d landed it perfectly, and she knew I did it for her.

But when my feet hit the mat, something in me cracked.

---

I found her alone near the bleachers. The others were still crowding the judges, screaming for photos and posting selfies with shaking hands. But Taylor—Coach Swift—stood stiffly, scribbling notes like this was just another win on her record.

“Coach,” I said, low.

“If you’re about to ask to skip cooldown—”

“I’m done.”

She looked up slowly. Her expression didn’t shift much—but her eyes turned sharp.

“Done?” she echoed, voice low, dangerous. “Explain.”

“I’m not going to be a cheerleader anymore,” I said, and God, my hands were shaking. “I mean it.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You just led the team to a national title, Y/N. You were flawless. You think you get to walk away without a conversation?”

“I’m not okay,” I said, barely above a whisper.

That got her. I saw the instant the armor cracked.

“I’ve been hurting myself,” I continued. “And… thinking about not being here anymore. It’s getting harder to fake being fine.”

She didn’t speak. Didn’t breathe.

Then—slowly—she moved.

She crossed the distance like she didn’t care who saw, like nothing else existed. And then her arms wrapped around me, solid, fierce, possessive. One hand cradled the back of my head, the other pulled me tight against her chest.

“You should’ve told me,” she said, voice rough against my hair. “You think I wouldn’t have dropped everything the second I knew?”

I trembled. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

She pulled back just far enough to meet my eyes, her grip still firm on my shoulders.

“You could shatter in front of me and I’d still pick up every piece,” she said. “You belong to me, Y/N. On the mat, off the mat—I don’t care. You’re mine.”

I blinked at her.

“I’m not losing you,” she added, voice iron. “Not to this. Not to anything.”

---

Her apartment was quiet. Warm. The scent of lavender and tea curled around everything like a hug. She hadn’t even hesitated—just told me I was staying with her and wouldn’t take no for an answer.