tillysslife

[tillysslife]

you’re suddenly on a first name basis with your boss’s husband… why does it make you feel so funny? ૮꒰˶> ༝ <˶ ꒱ა (sirens!au)

“…you’re fuckin’ on thornton?” you freeze when you hear mr cameron’s voice from behind you in the garden, where you’ve been taking your break.

your eyes widen and your body turns to face him, lashes fluttering as you play innocent, and figure out why he’s asking. “pardon me?”

“topper thornton. my buddy. you fucking him?” the bluntness of the billionaires words make your lips part a bit, unsure what to say.

something about rafe seems to make you want to tell the truth. he’s awfully convincing, his smooth words could probably pull anybody in — that must be why he’s so successful.

your glossy lips move to admit it. “only once, mr. cameron,” you admit, a bit of pleading in your tone before you even ask the next question. “please don’t tell sofia, i’m not sure how she’ll react and i would rather keep this private—“

“rafe.” he cuts you off.

you blink after he ignores your pleas and admission. “..hm?”

“mr. cameron is too formal for me. me ‘n you live together, and i’d prefer whatever women i live with not to refer to me so professionally. rafe works just fine.”

you try to process his words, nodding gently. “…okay then, rafe,” you test his name out on your tongue, making him crack a bit of a smirk.

“you’re cute, y’know that?” he chuckles to himself. you assume he’s just being casual, and this is normal, so you give him a shy thanks. “a’ight, say it again,” he tells you.

“say what?”

“your answer to my first question. say it again, but refer to me properly.”

“oh— um…” you try and recall what you were saying to him beforehand, brain suddenly a bit fuzzy. you’re not sure why. “was just saying that i’ve only hooked up with topper once, rafe.. ‘n for you to please not tell your wife? it’s kind of new, so…” you feel a bit shy as you restate your previous admission.

he nods, satisfied with your obedience. “i see now why sofia likes you. sweet thing, good listener… yeah, you’re good.” he says, as if he’s assessing you. his gaze travels down your figure, you assume just checking your outfit, before landing on your face again. “well have a nice day, sweetie, i’m sure i’ll see you for dinner.”

you nod instantly, trying to get your confused and hazy brain working again. “yes sir— rafe,” you correct. “see you tonight,”

with that, he smiles and hums, nodding once then walking to the house again. he leaves as if nothing just happened, leaving you to wonder .. what the fuck was that, and why do you feel so fuzzy? it’s going to be hard to return inside after your break, that’s for sure. rafe … first name basis with the billion-dollar man himself.

[tillysslife]

hiii I love your fics !! could you consider making one abt Johnny x gibsies little sister!reader where she’s off limits ?? Idm what you do with it, just some fluff like that :)

off limits

pairing: johnny kavanagh x fem!reader

tw: none (i hope)

a/n: lowkey fuck with this but lowkey hate it? if anyone has requests pls send them through today cause im lowkey on the grind rn

the italics in the middle part is gibsie’s thoughts !!

masterlist !

every person in cork knows two things.

one: johnny kavanagh is a mouthy little bollocks who somehow still manages to get away with everything — whether it’s charm, talent, or just sheer good luck, no one really knows.

and two: gerard gibson’s little sister is off limits.

doesn’t matter how fit she is. doesn’t matter if she’s sweet as anything, always smiling and saying thank you and helping old teachers carry their books. if you look at her sideways, gibsie will end your bloodline.

he’s mad about her, really — in that overbearing, dramatic way only an older brother could be. loud threats, constant hovering, scaring off lads just by breathing too loud near her. it’s not even verbal anymore — it’s instinct. animal. survival.

which is exactly why johnny should’ve kept his distance.

and for a while, he tried.

he’s always been a bit of a flirt, sure. had his fair share of girls, mostly older — the ones who liked the cocky smile and didn’t ask for much more. he never stayed long. never cared enough to.

except… this is different.

she’s different.

always has been.

and maybe it started small. glances that lingered longer than they should. inside jokes at the dinner table. soft laughs from the backseat of gibsie’s car.

but somewhere along the way, it turned real.

like, sickeningly real.

he can’t look at her without his chest aching. can’t hear her laugh without getting all warm and stupid. he talks less when she’s around — which is mental, because johnny kavanagh never shuts up.

and the worst part? everyone knows.

the whole fuckin’ town’s got a bet going, probably. every single one of the lads can see it — the way he goes soft when she’s around, the way he lights up when she says his name, the way he doesn’t flirt back when she teases him.

even gibsie knows.

he just… refuses to acknowledge it.

“johnny?” he’d said once, loud as hell in the locker room, “fall in love? fuck off. he’s more likely to elope with a bottle of lynx africa.”

johnny hadn’t said anything.

he just shoved his boots on and stared at the floor — thinking about her. always thinking about her.

and now here he is. sitting on the worn-down couch in the gibson living room, watching her braid her hair out of her face like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

she’s got a book in her lap and bare feet curled under her, and he’s trying very hard not to stare at her thighs.

“you alright there?” she asks, not even looking up.

“huh?” he blinks.

“you’re staring.”

he smirks automatically — out of habit, really. “hard not to when you’re that pretty.”

she raises a brow. “you’re full of shite.”

“never said i wasn’t.”

she laughs — soft and real — and fuck, he’s done for.

he looks away, pretending to stretch his arm behind the couch, like he’s casual. like his pulse isn’t slamming in his ears.

from the kitchen, gibsie shouts, “you better not be talking shite to my sister, kavanagh!”

johnny sighs. “he’s such a headcase.”

“i heard that!”

you grin, completely unbothered, and go back to your book.

and johnny just sits there.

desperate. hopeless. smitten out of his fucking mind.

the only person in cork who doesn’t know it?

you.

⸻

it starts with the way johnny looks at you.

not in the usual way lads do — that obvious, mouth-open, half-horny way most fellas look at a girl they fancy.

nah.

it’s worse.

johnny watches you like he’s waiting to make sure you’re alright. like he can hear the beat of your heart across a room and needs to know it’s steady. like you hung the moon and he’s terrified to reach for it.

and gibsie doesn’t like it.

not one feckin’ bit.

it’s not that he thinks johnny’s a bad lad — he’s not. he’s his best friend. his brother. he’s loyal and solid and smarter than he lets on.

but still.

gibsie’s known johnny since they were in nappies. he’s seen the trail of women left in his wake — older ones, bored ones, ones who liked the way he could charm the pants off anyone without trying.

johnny’s always had girls, but he’s never cared for any of them.

and now he’s sitting at the gibson dinner table, quiet for the third meal in a row, passing you the mashed potatoes like it’s some grand romantic gesture, smiling like he’s just seen god.

and that’s when it hits gibs.

oh, bollocks. he’s in love with her.

gibsie watches the two of you all week. becomes obsessed, really.

he sees the way you always look at johnny before you laugh. how you bring him a towel after practice. how johnny holds his temper better when you’re around, doesn’t rise to the usual shite, just sits there and watches you.

he’s a mess.

a quiet one. dangerous. real.

and it gets worse when johnny starts helping around the house. just little things — taking the bins out without being asked, offering to fix the dodgy leg on the kitchen chair, picking your favourite crisps from the shop without even saying a word.

“what the fuck are you playing at?” gibsie asks one night, cornering johnny by the shed out back. cigarette hanging from his lips, arms crossed.

johnny blinks. “what?”

“don’t be thick. you know what. you’re actin’ weird.”

johnny shrugs, too calm. “i’m always weird according to you.”

“not like this,” gibs snaps. “you’re all… gentle. and helpful. and you keep lookin’ at her like she’s made of stars or somethin’. it’s disgusting.”

johnny laughs under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “she doesn’t even know.”

gibs stares. “you’re serious.”

he shrugs again — quieter this time. “i’m tryin’ not to be.”

and that’s when gibsie properly panics. because shit. he was hoping it was just a phase. some harmless pining, a bit of tension, maybe one day it’d fizzle out and they’d both move on.

but now?

johnny’s in love.

johnny fucking kavanagh. who’s never been serious about a girl in his life. who could have anyone. who never sticks around long enough to give a shite.

and he’s looking at gibsie’s little sister like she’s the end of the road.

like there’s no one else.

and the worst part?

he’s not even mad.

he just feels sick.

because deep down, he knows — johnny would never hurt her.

and that’s what scares him most.

gibs never says anything out loud.

he just… starts noticing things.

little ones, at first.

like how you and johnny talk without really talking — passing things between you without needing full sentences. inside jokes. eye contact. the sort of quiet understanding that takes years to build and somehow bloomed between you two in silence.

then it’s the way johnny looks for you in a crowd. how he knows where you are in any room, every single time. how his shoulders only relax when you’re close.

how you gravitate toward him now, not your brother.

and that does something to gibs.

makes his chest feel weird. full and hollow at the same time.

he tries to play it off — calls johnny a “fucking sap” behind his back, rolls his eyes when you steal his hoodie again and wear it for three days straight — but the truth is, he’s watching.

and what he sees?

he sees johnny holding open the car door for you. sees you curled up on the couch with your head on his shoulder, fast asleep while he doesn’t move a muscle for two hours just so you don’t wake up.

he sees johnny walk you to class. carry your bag when your shoulder hurts. stand behind you at parties, not hovering, but just there — like a quiet shield.

and he sees the way you smile at him.

like you trust him with your life.

and that’s when gibs starts to back off.

not in a big, dramatic way. no speeches. no warnings.

just… slowly.

he stops hovering so much. doesn’t bark at johnny every time he so much as stands next to you. doesn’t flinch when he catches you both laughing in the backseat, heads close, knees touching.

he starts trusting it.

because for all the shit he gives johnny — all the chaos and teasing and stupid jabs — he knows the lad’s heart.

and for once, it’s not in his trousers.

it’s in his chest. beating hard. steady. every rhythm thudding for you.

and maybe that’s enough.

still, gibs can’t help himself sometimes.

like when you and johnny are sitting too close at dinner, whispering about something dumb and trying not to laugh. or when johnny shows up with your favourite chocolate bar and gibs just sighs and says, “you’re gonna be the death of me, both of you.”

but even then, he doesn’t move.

he just watches.

quiet now.

like he’s realising the best way to protect you isn’t standing in front of you anymore.

it’s stepping aside.

⸻

you don’t even realise how close you’ve gotten.

not really.

it’s not like anything’s changed — johnny’s still johnny. still all crooked smirks and lazy confidence, still calling you “sweetheart” just to see you roll your eyes. still soft, though. in the quiet moments. in the way he always waits for you to finish your sentence, even when you’re not sure how it ends.

you’ve always been close — it’s never felt weird.

but now?

it feels like you’ve crossed some invisible line without noticing.

it’s the way he tugs your ponytail when you pass him in the hallway, fingers brushing the back of your neck like he needs to touch you. it’s the way he always knows what you’re about to say before you say it.

it’s the way you find yourself leaning into him like he’s home.

and then one night — just an ordinary thursday, gibs upstairs yelling at a rugby match on the telly — it happens.

you and johnny are sat on the floor of the living room, knees touching. the tv’s on, but you’re not watching it. you’re both sharing a packet of crisps. he’s telling you some story about a substitute teacher who accidentally assigned the wrong homework, and you’re laughing, but you’re not really listening.

you’re watching his mouth.

you don’t even realise you’re staring until he goes quiet.

“what?” you ask, smiling.

he looks at you for a second — really looks at you — and says, soft and simple, “you’re killin’ me.”

your smile falters. “what?”

johnny leans back on his elbows, jaw clenched like he’s biting back every single word he’s ever wanted to say. then he huffs a breath and shakes his head.

“you’ve no idea, do ya?”

your brow furrows. “about what?”

he scoffs — not at you. at himself. at how pathetic he feels right now.

“you,” he says. “you and me. christ, it’s been months. i’ve tried everything short of writing your name in the sky and you’re still lookin’ at me like i’m just your brother’s idiot best friend.”

you blink.

he shrugs, like it’s nothing. like he didn’t just carve open his ribs and hand you his heart.

“i’m in love with you,” he adds, like it’s that easy. like it hasn’t been eating him alive every day. “been in love with you. probably always will be.”

you’re silent.

he tries to play it off, reaching for another crisp like he didn’t just unravel in front of you. “it’s fine, by the way. i’m not— not expecting anything. just figured i should say it before i burst into flames or somethin’.”

you stare at him.

then — quiet as anything — you whisper, “i thought you were just being nice.”

johnny laughs. loud. disbelieving. leans back and looks at the ceiling like he’s praying for strength.

“jesus christ, i’ve been pining after you like a feckin’ schoolgirl and you thought i was being nice?”

“you’re nice to everyone.”

“not like this!” he gestures wildly between you.

you’re staring at him, eyes wide, lips parted, like maybe you just misheard him.

“so what then, you’re in love with me?” you ask, voice small but searching for reassurance in his previous words.

johnny scoffs — tired, soft, like he’s been carrying it around for too long.

“yeah,” he says. “head over heels. completely fucked.”

you don’t say anything, and that silence makes him start pacing.

“i’ve been tryin’ to keep my distance. out of respect or whatever,” he mutters, dragging a hand through his hair, “but i swear to god, i’m losin’ it, y/n. i’ve never felt like this before — not with bella, not with anyone. and i’m tryin’ to be good about it, i am, but—”

he stops, looks at you, eyes burning.

“i don’t care what gibs thinks.”

you blink. “what?”

“i don’t care.” his voice is firmer now, lower. “i’ve cared for months. tiptoed around you. held my tongue. did everything right. but i’m not gonna keep pretending like i don’t want you just because he’ll throw a fit. i’d go through hell for that lad, but if it comes down to him or you?” he swallows hard. “it’s you. every time.”

you’re still frozen, heart thudding too loud to hear the tv anymore. he steps closer, tone softer now, like he’s afraid he’s gone too far.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “but it’s not just a crush. it’s not some fling. i needyou to know that. i’ve never felt like this in my life, and i’m not gonna lose the one good thing i’ve ever wanted ‘cause i was too scared to be honest about it.”

his voice cracks then, barely a whisper.

“i don’t care if it pisses him off. i care about you.”

your mouth opens but no words come out — just breath. shaky, unsteady. you feel like you’ve been dropped from a great height, like your chest can’t hold all this.

“johnny,” you whisper.

he just looks at you, waiting, every inch of him trembling like he’s bracing for the worst.

and then you kiss him.

and it’s done.

because you don’t care either — not anymore.

⸻

bonus ? (only cause i lowkey hate it)

gibs knows before he even opens the door.

it’s too quiet downstairs. and then too not quiet — like someone tried to stifle a laugh and accidentally made it worse. like the kind of hush that doesn’t come from silence, but from closeness.

he rounds the corner with a frown and nearly turns right back around.

you’re on the couch, legs slung over johnny’s lap, his hand curled protectively over your knee like it’s his. like he’s always known it was his.

and you — you look like you’ve never felt safer.

“oh, for feck’s sake,” gibs mutters.

johnny freezes. his hand lifts like it’s been caught doing something illegal. your face flushes immediately, all wide eyes and half-guilty smiles.

gibs stares at him.

johnny stares back.

and there it is — that moment. the one they’ve been building toward for months. the one gibs has been dreading.

“you serious?” gibs says, voice flat.

johnny clears his throat. “yeah.”

gibs narrows his eyes. “like… serious serious?”

“yeah.”

you open your mouth, but gibs holds a hand up, eyes still locked on johnny.

“you better be sure,” he says. “because she’s not some fling, mate. this isn’t like all your other shite. this is my sister.”

johnny doesn’t flinch.

“i know,” he says quietly. “that’s why i waited.”

something in gibs’ chest tugs.

“i tried,” johnny goes on, voice lower now. “i really did. to stay back. to respect you. but… i’m in love with her. and i’m not gonna pretend i’m not anymore.”

you glance at gibs, nervous, like you’re expecting a fight.

but all he does is sigh.

deep. long. tired.

“you’re a gobshite,” he mutters.

johnny gives him a half-smile. “i know.”

gibs looks at you then — really looks at you. and what he sees makes something tight inside him loosen.

you’re happy.

like, actually happy.

he hasn’t seen you this soft since… well. maybe ever.

he swallows the lump in his throat.

“if you break her heart,” he says, “i’ll break your face.”

johnny grins. “wouldn’t expect anything less.”

gibs rolls his eyes, mumbling under his breath as he heads for the stairs, “fuckin’ disgusting, the both of yeh.”

but halfway up, he pauses.

calls back without turning around—

“you treat her right, yeah?”

johnny’s answer comes without hesitation.

“always.”

and gibs doesn’t say it, but he believes him.

because for all his faults, johnny kavanagh’s never lied about something that mattered.

and the way he looks at you?

that matters.

[tillysslife]

The Bachelor - Episode 1 | Limo Arrivals

the bachelor masterlist

pairings: rafe cameron x female!reader

words: 5.0k

The villa glowed like a dream under the night sky, golden light spilling down the grand staircase, flickering against the perfectly manicured hedges. It looked like something out of a fairytale or a reality show. Which, you reminded yourself, it very much was.

Inside the limo, the energy had shifted. The jokes were quieter now, nerves humming in the space between the women seated shoulder to shoulder, careful not to wrinkle dresses or smear lipstick. You sat with your hands folded in your lap, pretending to be calm, eyes fixed on the window as the mansion grew larger with each turn of the tires.

“I can’t believe he’s actually waiting out there.” One girl whispered, breathless. “What if I blank out and forget my name?” “What if he’s not even cute in person?”

A few of them laughed too loud. One girl was already reapplying gloss for the third time. You just breathed in slowly and tried to quiet your heartbeat.

This wasn’t supposed to be real.

You hadn’t imaged it going further than a funny story between you and your best friend. But then came the callback…. and the second one… and the whirlwind that brought you here. And now, you were about to step out of a limo and meet a man the rest of America would be watching you fall in love or fail with.

Your name was called.

The door opened.

The air hit your skin first, cool, slightly floral from the rose arrangements lining the path. The mansion towered in the distance. But all you saw was him.

Rafe Cameron.

He stood at the end of the driveaway in a tailored black suite, his posture relaxed but solid. Not trying too hard. Not posturing for the camera. And somehow, that made it worse.

Your breath hitched.

And when your heels hit the driveaway, his head turned toward you instantly.

Your pulse kicked up, but you smiled as you approached, keeping your stride steady. Shoulders back. Voice ready.

“Hey there,” you said, letting your eyes meet his and hold.

“Hey,” he replied, eyes not leaving yours. “I’m Rafe.”

“I know,” you teased, with a quick grin. “Kind of hard to miss the guy everyone’s here for.”

That earned a smile from him real and fast in the best way.

“And you are…?”

“Y/N. From Staten Island.”

“Staten Island,” he repeated, a flicker of surprise in his expression. “Didn’t see that one coming.”

“That’s the fun part,” you said, stepping a little closer. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Good,” he said, a little slower now. “I like surprises.”

There was a beat of silence, not awkward, just charged.

You pulled back just a hair, still smiling. “Anyway, I’ll let you get back to it. Thirty-one more names to remember.”

Rafe grinned. “Something tells me yours won’t be hard to remember.”

You paused at that, feeling the weight of the moment shift. You weren’t expecting that, not so soon. But there it was.

You glanced over your shoulder as you turned toward the mansion. “We’ll see if you still remember it later.”

“I will,” he said quiet, certain, just loud enough for you to hear.

And you believed him.

Because as you walked away, you could feel it. The unmistakable heat of someone still watching.

Inside the villa, the energy was electric, almost humming. Twinkling lights wrapped around beams, champagne flutes lined the trays of perfectly dressed servers, and soft lounge music played underneath the buzz of whispered nerves.

You stood just off to the side of the grand foyer, heels planted, fingers curled loosely around a glass of something bubbly. A producer had gently nudged you into your mark, then disappeared, leaving you with nothing but your thoughts... and a wide-open view of the driveway.

The limo door opened again.

“That’s Samantha Jamerson,” someone whispered behind you. “She’s the model. From Dallas.”

Samantha stepped out like she was walking onto a runway — head high, hair glossy under the lights, dress clinging in all the right places. She wore confidence like perfume.

“Okay,” you muttered to yourself. “Not intimidating at all.”

Another girl followed just moments later — Evalin Rossio, the makeup artist from Burbank. Her entrance was bolder, more theatrical. She strutted up to Rafe in sparkling heels, handed him a lipstick tube, and said something you couldn’t hear… but whatever it was, it made him laugh.

You exhaled through your nose. Lightly. Casually.

Then came Daisy Cameron.

She stepped out of the limo with the kind of grace that made the air feel quieter for a second — all smooth lines and timeless beauty in a butter-yellow satin gown. She didn’t rush. Every step felt intentional, like she’d been here before in some other life.

In her hands, she held a single white gardenia.

When she reached Rafe, she didn’t say anything right away. Just offered him the flower, eyes locked on his in a way that was soft, but piercing.

“A gardenia,” she said finally, voice low. “It means ‘secret love’... or ‘a new beginning,’ depending on who you ask.”

Rafe smiled slowly, clearly taken off guard. “Which one are you offering me?”

She leaned in just close enough for the cameras, not close enough to make it desperate.

“That’s up to you, isn’t it?”

And just like that, she turned and walked toward the mansion without another word.

There was a beat of silence. Even from a distance, you could see the way Rafe looked after her, a little surprised, a little intrigued.

“Okay, wow,” someone muttered behind you.

You didn’t respond, just took a slow sip of champagne and glanced at the doors as they opened for the next woman. Because it was clear now:

Every girl here had their version of “memorable.” The real question was, would it last?

The living room of the villa was warm with light and filled with too many beautiful women to count. Glittering dresses caught the glow of chandeliers, laughter buzzed softly in every corner, and champagne flowed like nerves — constantly and without warning.

You stood near the edge of a sitting area, fingers curled around the stem of your glass, quietly taking it all in. A few cameras hovered, not too close, but always there. You were still trying to ignore them.

“This place is insane,” a voice said beside you — low, friendly, with a quiet kind of warmth.

You turned and found a woman already smiling at you. She wore a soft mauve dress, her hair pulled into a loose braid. There was something open and real about her — the kind of presence that calmed you, not challenged you.

“Daniella,” she offered. “ICU nurse. From Minnesota. And currently trying to keep my blood pressure under control.”

You gave her a smile back. “Same. I mean, not the nurse part. Just.. all of this.”

“I feel like I’ve been holding my breath since I got out of the limo,” she added, laughing lightly. “Is it weird to admit I keep forgetting there are cameras?”

“Not weird. It’s either that or pretend they’re part of the furniture.”

Daniella laughed again and just like that, you felt your shoulders relax a little.

A third woman joined you moments later. Tall, sleek, confident but not in a way that made you feel small. She had a designer look and a warm smile to match.

“You two look like you’re actually enjoying yourselves,”

“We’re faking it well,” you replied.

“Good. That’s basically the job tonight.” She extended a hand. “Kayla. Interior design. L.A. You?”

“Y/N,” you answered. “New York.”

“Daniella, from Minnesota.”

The three of you stood there a moment longer, sipping drinks, trying to act like the cameras weren’t tucked behind potted palms and over shoulders. Laughter echoed from somewhere near the fireplace as a cluster of women posed for photos and took turns casually peeking at the front door.

“Do you think he’ll come in and grab someone right away?” Daniella asked softly.

“Maybe,” Kayla replied. “If he’s smart, he’ll start with someone unforgettable.”

They didn’t say it, but the unspoken words hung between you; and we’re all hoping that’s us.

You stayed quiet, letting their voices drift around you, eyes flicking once toward the front entrance.

The final woman had made her entrance. You couldn’t even remember her name, just that her gown shimmered like glitter under a spotlight and her laughter carried through the driveaway like she was already winning.

Inside the mansion, the air had shifted.

Everyone knew what was coming.

A hush fell over the room when Jesse Palmer stepped into the center of it all, dressed in a dark suit, face calm but with that unmistakable glint of drama in his eyes.

“Ladies,” he said with a warm smile, “welcome to night one.”

A few soft cheers and nervous laughs through the crowd.

“Tonight, you’ll each have a chance to spend one-on-one with Rafe. Make the most of it. He’s here to find something real. And at the end of the night…”

He paused for full effect.

“.. Rafe will be handing out the first roses of the season.”

Your stomach twisted slightly. You knew it was coming, but hearing it out loud made it hit different. It wasn’t just nerves anymore, it was pressure.

Jesse gave a small nod along with a soft smile, then stepped aside.

And then, Rafe walked in.

He looked sharp, dark jacket, shirt unbuttoned just enough to keep it relaxed. But it wasn’t just the way he looked. It was the way he moved through the room. Calm. Confident. Collected. His eyes scanned the space, landing briefly on each woman, but when they passed over you, they paused.

Just a beat longer than everyone else.

It wasn’t dramatic, and you were sure half of the room didn’t notice.

But you did.

He picked up a glass from a nearby tray, and the rest of you followed. Flutes clinked together softly.

“Thank you all for being here,” he said, his voice steady but warm. “I know how much courage it takes to put yourself out there like this and I don’t take that for granted. I came here because I’ve spent most of my life building something. A company. A future. But I want more than that now. I crave more.”

His gaze moved through the crowd.

“I want to build something real. With someone. I don’t know how this will unfold. But I’m here with an open heart.. and I hope you are too.”

The group murmured softly. Glasses lifted.

“To something real,” Rafe said.

“To something real,” the women echoed.

You sipped your drink, heart tight in your chest.

And just like that, the cocktail party really began.

Time passed like it was both racing and crawling. Rafe was pulled almost immediately. First by Zoe, a fiery brunette from Miami who wasted no time claiming her spot. Everyone pretended not to notice. No one succeeded.

You hovered near Daniella and Kayla, watching as one by one women made their move. Some subtle. Some not at all. There was laughing. Playful touches. A few over-rehearsed lines that landed like a scripted TV.

Then Zoe returned.

Her lipstick was smudged just lightly. Her smile? Smug.

“You guys,” she announced, fanning herself with her hand. “Let’s just say… first night magic is real.”

Gasps and squeals rippled through the group. You watched the reactions more than you watched her.

“You kissed him?” Someone on the couch asked, eyebrows raised.

Zoe shrugged, like it was no big deal. “It just happened.”

You turned your face away slightly, hiding the sudden knot of anxiety bloomed in your chest. You didn’t expect to feel… this. Not yet. But you did. And it was real.

So when the timing felt right after another girl returned, giddy and breathless – you stepped away from the group.

You spotted him near the edge of the patio, half in shadow, glass in hand, eyes scanning the lights twinkling in the distance like he was trying to slow the night down.

Maybe it was bold, maybe it was overdue. But your heels clicked against the stone like a quiet declaration as you stepped toward him.

He turned to face you, and there it was again. That small shift in his expression when he saw you. Like the air had changed.

“I was hoping you would,” he said.

He placed his drink on the railing behind him, then stepped closer his hand grazing lightly across your bare back as he guided you forward. The gesture was effortless, almost instinctive, but it send a hum down your spine.

He led you to a quieter corner of the terrace, where fairy lights dangled over low-hanging vines and the music from inside was just a whisper. It felt like your own little pocked of the night.

You sat beside him, just far enough not to touch, but close enough to feel the tension humming in the space between.

“So, Staten Island,” he said, smiling as he leaned back. “I’ve been thinking about that all night.”

“You say that like I’m a rare species.”

“Maybe you are,” he shot back, grinning. “Okay, let’s trade,” he said, turning slightly to face you. “One thing you actually like about where you’re from?”

You paused for a second, then nodded. “The honesty. People don’t pretend much. What you see is what you get.”

“That explains a lot about you, actually.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Definitely.”

You smiled at that, ducking your head a little. “Alright, your turn. Tell me something about you that no one probably expects.”

He leaned in a touch, not enough to close the gap, but enough to feel intentional.

“I go off-grid once a year. No phone, no emails. Just me and the woods. Camping, hiking, chopping firewood, the whole thing.”

Your eyebrows rose. “Wait, like actual camping? In a tent?”

“Tent, hammock, sometimes just a sleeping bag if I’m cocky.”

You laughed. “I pictures you more… five-star hotel with a view.”

“I do like a view,” he said, eyes locking on yours for a second too long. “Just depends on the company.”

Your breath caught slightly. You leaned back, your gaze steady on his. “Alright, Mr. Off-Grid. My turn again.”

He tilted his head, amused. “Hit me.”

“What’s your biggest red flag?”

He grinned. “What, you mean besides agreeing to date thirty-two women on TV?”

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered. “I said red flag, not suicide mission.”

He laughed low, “Fair, I guess.. I like control. More than I should, probably.”

“Ah,” you said, swirling your drink. “So you’re a bit of a menace too.”

“Maybe,” he said eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion. “But not in broad daylight.”

You smirked. “Coward.”

He mirrored your expression. “Okay then. Same question. What’s your red flag?”

You shrugged, unapologetic. “I know what I want. And I say it. Some men find that… unsettling.”

Rafe’s eyes glinted. “Sounds like clarity to me.”

“Dangerous word,” you said. “People say they want honesty, but they really want reassurance.”

He studied you for a beat, “And what do you want?”

You tilted your head, keeping him in your sights. “Someone who can keep up.”

He chuckled under his breath. “That sounds like a dare.”

“It might be,” you said, your tone light, but your gaze unflinching.

A beat of silence passed between you. Not awkward, not expectant, just charged.

He leaned in slightly, enough to blur the line between playful and something more pointed. His knuckles brushed the bench between you.

You held his gaze, not flinching. “You always stare like that.”

“Only when someone’s making it interesting.”

You smiled slowly. “And how am I doing?”

He opened his mouth like he was going to answer, but then;

“Hi,” came a voice from a few feet away. Soft, but clearly practiced. One of the other women, stepping forward with a polite-but-not-really smile. “Sorry to interrupt.. would it be okay if I grabbed you for a minute?”

Rafe turned to her immediately, respectful, gracious even. “Yeah, of course?” Then back to you. “I owe you a rematch.”

You gave him a lazy smile, playful but grounded. “Good. I wasn’t finished winning.”

He laughed under his breath, and with a parting glance.

You leaned back, lips still curved, the buzz of the conversation lingering on your skin like static.

Confessional – Rafe

He sits on the velvet chair, jacket unbuttoned.

“She’s… sharp,” he says, almost to himself first. Then he looks up at the camera. “Y/N’s not trying to impress me. It’s like she showed up and decided to see if I was worth her time.”

He laughs, shaking his head.

“And that kind of honesty? It’s rare and bold. And yeah I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already thinking about the next time I get her alone.”

Back at the Cocktail party

You made your way back toward the main crowd, heels clicking with a little more ease than when you’d walked out. As you approached the couches near the fire pit, Kayla spotted you first and raised an eyebrow.

“Well?”

You dropped into the cushion between her and Daniella, crossing your legs slowly. “We talked.”

Daniella leaned in. “That’s all we’re getting? You were gone for, like, twenty minutes.”

“I mean… it was a good talk,” you said, playing it cool but the edge of your mouth betrayed you. A hint of smile. Just enough

“Oh my god, you like him,” Kayla gasped, pointing at you.

You held up a hand. “Relax. I don’t even know him.”

“Mm-hm,” Daniella said, sipping her drink. “But you’re thinking about it.”

You let out a breath and looked toward the patio, where Rafe was now laughing with someone else.

“He’s… sharp,” you finally said. “Smarter than I expected.”

“And hot,” Kayla added helpfully.

Daniella nudged her. “Let her pretend she’s deep.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’s more than just charming. That’s rare for me.”

There was a pause, then Kayla said, “So.. do you think you’ve got a shot?”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you swirled the ice in your drink and glanced at the cluster of women still waiting their turn.

“If I want it?” you said. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Daniella raised her brows. “Damn.”

Kayla grinned. “Guess we’ll all just try not to take it personally.”

You gave her a look. “Oh, come on. You think I’m scared of a little healthy competition?”

Daniella raised her brows. “You’ve gotten way too calm. Like suspiciously calm.”

You shrugged, the ghost of a smile playing on your lips. “I’m here to make a connection, and if he sees it too, great. If not? His loss.”

Kayla let out a low whistle. “Okay, cool girl. Coaching session, please.”

You glanced out toward the patio, where Rafe was still talking to a blonde girl, laughing at something she’d said, charming. As always, too charming.

“Honestly?” you said, shifting to face Daniella. “You should go next.”

Daniella blinked. “What? No, I’m not even sure what I’d say. I was gonna wait till it felt more natural.”

“Natural is a myth on this show,” you said, gently but firmly. “You think anyone’s first rose comes from waiting around to be noticed? If you want time, go take it babe.”

“She’s right,” Kayla added.

“I just don’t want to be that girl,” Daniella said.

You leaned forward, voice softer now. “That girl gets to figure out if she actually likes him, not just the idea of him. You deserve that chance.”

Daniella looked between you and Kayla, then out at the patio.

“You’re sure it won’t come off… pushy?”

“You’re not interrupting a marriage proposal,” you said. “It’s five minutes of conversation. Go claim your five.”

Kayla reached over and gave Daniella’s shoulder a squeeze. “Honestly, the way he looked at you when you walked in earlier? I’d bet on you.”

That earned a small, nervous smile from Daniella. But it grew into something steadier.

“Okay,” she said, standing and brushing invisible lint off her dress. “Okay. You’re right. I’m gonna go.”

You raised your glass to her like a salute. “Make him forget his own name.”

Kayla laughed, and Daniella tosses you both a grateful glance before walking toward the patio with quiet determination.

Once she was out of earshot, Kayla leaned in and whispered, “You’re dangerous when you go into hype mode.”

You just smirked and sipped your drink. “I like knowing the right women are getting in the room.”

Kayla gave you a sideways look. “So what happens if it comes down to all three of us?”

You didn’t blink. “Then may the best woman win.”

There was a beat of silence, thick with understanding — not rivalry, but respect.

Then, clinking glasses again, Kayla said, “To playing smart.”

You grinned. “To playing well.”

Not far off, pockets of women had formed. Clusters of sequins and bare shoulders catching the firelight. Laughter rose and fell in waves, paired with the occasional anxious glance toward the patio.

Near the charcuterie table, two women stood shoulder to shoulder, nibbling nervously on crackers more out of habit than hunger.

“I swear I blacked out the second he looked at me,” one said with a laugh, covering her face. “Did I even speak? I can’t tell.”

“You smiled. A lot.” The women next to her assured her, nudging her gently. “And you didn’t trip. That’s already a win.”

Across the way, three women lounged on a circular couch, shoes kicked off and tucked beneath them.

“I keep telling myself I’m not going to spiral,” one was saying, twirling the straw in her drink. “but then I see another girl walk off with him and it’s like okay, I’m spiralling.”

The girl beside her hummed in agreement. “Same. But also, like.. how do you even stand out without being that girl?”

The third gave a half-shrug. “You just be you. The right energy finds its match, right?”

They nodded, and for a moment, the conversation settled into a quiet kind of calm nerves shared out loud always seemed a little smaller.

At the edge of the group, someone pulled out a tube of lip gloss and offered it around. Another handed over blotting paper, small but familiar rituals. The kind women learn to perform for each other in rooms like this.

“I think Daniella’s out there with him now,” someone murmured.

A few heads turned. One girl smiled. “Good. I liked her vibe. She deserves her moment.”

“Totally. She’s sweet. I hope she kills it. But like... also, I hope I get my moment too.”

Someone raised a glass. “To our own damn fairy tales.”

They clinked glasses gently, not as a toast to rivalry, but to resilience.

And just like that, the night moved on. Full of eyes watching doors, hands smoothing dresses and hearts trying not to hope too loudly.

You were curled into one of the velvet sofas with Kayla and Daniella when the room shifted.

The conversations dimmed. The posture of every woman sharpened.

Jesse Palmer stepped through the open archway, carrying it.

The First Impression Rose. It sat atop a sleek white marble platter.

You sat up straighter. Everyone did.

“Ladies,” Jesse said, glancing around the room. “Rafe has made a decision.”

A pause just long enough for tension to ripple across the group.

“He is ready to give out the First Impression Rose.”

He placed the platter down on the marble coffee table, the rose bright against the glass surface.

And then, without another word, Jesse walked out, leaving the rose in the center of the room like a lit fuse.

The quiet buzz that followed was unmistakable. Nervous laughter. Crossed legs uncrossed, then crossed again. Someone sat up, smoothing her dress without realizing it.

“Is he coming in here to give it out?” one girl whispered.

But before anyone could answer, Rafe stepped into the room.

Tall. Composed. Smile relaxed, but unreadable.

“Evening, ladies,” he said smoothly.

A few voices returned his greeting. Most just watched.

He walked toward the rose with even steps, paused, and looked down at it. Then, without saying a word, he picked it up.

And turned around.

He left the room.

For a second, no one moved.

Then –

“Wait, he’s not giving it to someone in here?” “Awch.” “Oh my God. Who is he going to?”

Chairs shifted. A few girls leaned toward the windows.

You turned your head just in time to catch a glimpse of him outside, walking across the patio, rose in hand.

And there, near the string-lit reflecting pool, stood Sierra.

She turned as he approached. And you didn’t need to hear the words to know exactly what was happening.

He held the rose out. She nodded. He smiled.

It was clean. Quiet.

A flicker sparkled low in your chest. Not jealousy, not really. Just that quiet, steady drumbeat of not this time. You sipped your drink. This was only the beginning.

Confessional - Rafe (after handing out the First Impression Rose)

Rafe is seated comfortably, bowtie slightly loosened, hand still resting loosely on his knee like he hasn’t fully come down from the night.

“Giving that first rose... it’s a weird pressure. You want to trust your gut, but you’re also very aware that thirty-one other people are watching.”

He smiles slightly, thoughtful.

“Sierra felt grounded. There’s something warm and steady about her energy. That stood out.”

A pause. He glances off-camera, then back.

“But there were other moments tonight… ones I’m still thinking about. There’s a lot I haven’t figured out yet.”

The clinking of glasses quieted the moment Jesse Palmer stepped into the villa, dressed in a sharp black suit and wearing the kind of practiced calm that only came with hosting this exact moment many times before.

“Ladies,” he said, voice even but charged with gravity. “I hope tonight brought you clarity, connection… and hopefully a little fun.”

A few soft laughs floated through the room some sincere, some strained. Eyes darted from one face to another. Makeup was still fresh, but nerves had started to show.

Jesse’s gaze swept the room before continuing. “As you know, Rafe has already given out the First Impression Rose.”

You didn’t need to look, you already knew where Sierra was standing, her rose pressed to the front of her dress. She smiled gently as a few girls glanced her way. You couldn’t blame them.

Production had gathered all thirty-two of you together now. A single room, no more movement, no more distractions. This was it. The waiting was done.

Jesse turned slightly, angling toward the open doors behind him.

“And with that,” he said, “it’s time for the next step.”

Outside, Rafe stood just past the threshold, tall, steady, hands clasped loosely in front of him. There was a subtle shift in the air the second his eyes scanned the room, like the weight of the evening had finally settled on everyone’s shoulders.

“This journey starts fast,” Jesse said, voice steady, “and it starts now.”

He turned to Rafe with a small nod.

“Rafe, I’ll turn it over to you for your second decision of the night — the First Rose Ceremony.”

A few girls straightened their spines. One adjusted the hem of her dress. No one breathed too loudly.

“Rafe,” Jesse said, “whenever you’re ready.”

“Hi, everyone,” he said, voice smooth but a little tentative.

A chorus of voices replied all at once: “Hiiiii.”

It came from all corners of the room soft, sweet, slightly sing-song. The kind of collective response that only thirty-two women standing in full glam under a chandelier could produce.

Rafe let out a short laugh, shaking his head slightly. “I’m still not used to that,” he said. “Not sure I ever will be.”

A few girls giggled. The room relaxed. Just a notch.

Then he took a small step forward, glancing around the room letting the quiet settle for a moment.

“I know this was a long night,” he said, his voice a little more grounded now. “And I just want to say thank you. I don’t take any of this lightly. The time you’ve all put in, the nerves, the conversations, everything.”

His eyes scanned the faces across from him.

“You’re all incredible in your own ways. And I’m really sorry if tonight doesn’t go the way you hoped. Just know that I see you. And I appreciate you.”

A beat passed. Then he turned toward the pedestal and reached for the first rose.

The first name called:  “Talia.”

A brunette in a crimson dress stepped forward, visibly relieved.

“Talia,” Rafe said gently, “will you accept this rose?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice trembling only slightly.

“Selene.”  “Will you accept this rose?”  “Yes.”

A few names later:

“Y/N.”

Your name settled into the room like a bell struck once: clear, resonant, and undeniably real.

You stepped forward, pulse steady despite the anticipation crawling over your skin.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low but sure. “Will you accept this rose?”

You didn’t blink. “I will.”

The rose was light in your hand. The meaning behind it, not so much.

You returned to your place in the line, careful to keep your expression composed, but your fingers curled just slightly tighter around the stem than necessary.

Confessional – Y/N

The camera cuts to Y/N, sitting in the velvet chair. Her heels are off, tucked beside her. She’s calm, but her eyes are sharp.

“I’d be lying if I said the First Impression Rose didn’t sting a little. It’s not jealousy… it’s just this weird feeling of ‘okay, so this is how it’s going to go.’”

She breathes out a laugh, small but real.

“But I got a rose. And I got time with him. Real time. So I’m not worried. If anything, I’m just more... curious. Because I think he sees it too. He just doesn’t know what to do with it yet.”

Present

“Kayla.”

She let out a soft breath and walked up with a confident, steady step.  “Will you accept this rose?”  “Absolutely.”

Confessional – Kayla

Kayla sits comfortably, legs crossed, one hand fidgeting with a ring on her finger.

“Tonight was… intense. It’s easy to forget how fast it all moves until you’re standing there waiting to hear your name.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, glancing up like she’s replaying something.

Present

“Daniella.”

Her smile bloomed genuinely hopeful.  “Will you accept this rose?”  “Yes. Thank you.”

Confessional – Daniella

Daniella sits forward in the chair, her rose still in her hand like she hasn’t let herself fully relax yet. Her hair is slightly looser, but her smile is calm, earned.

“I almost didn’t do it. I kept waiting for the right time  like it would just open up perfectly for me. But this place doesn’t work like that. You either step in… or you watch someone else take the shot you wanted.”

She glances down at the rose, then back up with a quiet kind of pride.

“He saw me. Not just physically like, actually saw me. And that five-minute conversation? It changed the whole night.”

Back to the Ceremony

One by one, the roses were handed out. Gratitude, nerves, hope, each layered thick in the air as the room slowly thinned.

The final rose sat alone on the pedestal when Jesse stepped forward again.

“Ladies,” he said, “this is the final rose tonight.”

Everyone stilled.

It was offered.  Accepted.  And just like that, it was done.

The women who hadn’t been called; Samantha, Jess, Rachel, Erika, Olivia, Evalin, Christen, Whitney, Holland, and Allie were gently escorted aside. Hugs exchanged.

You glanced sideways, finding Kayla and Daniella among the crowd.  They each held their roses like little promises.  And somewhere behind your ribs, something softened, then sharpened again.

This was only the beginning.  And you were still standing.

authors note: i'd love to hear what you all think of this first episode. your feedback means so much and is always appreciated! I hope you enjoyed it. please feel free to send me your thoughts on what you'd like to see in this series—specific date ideas, slow-burn romances, potential drama, anything you’re craving!

fun fact: I’ve only seen one season of The Bachelor years ago, so this is just as much of a wild ride for me as it is for you. thanks so much for all the love!

important note: if you’d like to be added, please send me a message or comment under this post! please also make sure you follow, comment and interact so you can get tagged and stay tagged. 💖

the bachelor taglist: @xoxo4chrisss @serendippindots @akobx @wandabillywrites @drewsephrry @justdamnpeachy

[tillysslife]

i’m obsessed with this concept💟

THE BACHELOR

PROLOGUE

Rafe Cameron built his empire with his bare hands.

Not literally, maybe – he wore suits now, not steel-toed boots but every blueprint, every deal, every calculated risk bore his name. Cameron Developments wasn’t just a business. It was his legacy. His proof that he could build something from the ground up and make it last.

And for the last couple of years, that was enough.

Until it wasn’t.

Until the high-rises and handshakes started to feel... hollow. Until coming home to silence felt more like failure than peace. Until he looked around his spotless house and realized he had everything – except someone to share it with.

So, when the offer came – when producers pitched him a season of The Bachelor built around success, stability, and the search of something real – Rafe said yes.

Because he was finally ready.

Ready to stop chasing what looked good on paper.

Ready to find what felt good in his bones.

RAFE’s CONFESSIONAL

[B-ROLL: Charleston, South Caroline – Shots of historic sheets, coastal homes, Rafe walking with a coffee, talking to contractors on-site]

“I’ve spent most of my life building things. I like the process – taking something from nothing and turning it into a place where someone can build a life.”

[B-ROLL: Modern office. Glass, steel, clean. Rafe in a dark button-down, sleeves rolled. He’s reviewing blueprints, joking quietly with his assistant. A plaque on the wall reads: Cameron Developments – Est.2016.]

“I’m Rafe Cameron. 27 years old, I live in Charleston, South Carolina. And I am the founder and CEO of Cameron Developments. We do commercial and luxury residential real estate – design, development, all of it. It’s been my world for a long time.”

[B-ROLL: Rafe walking a construction site in boots, hard hat in hand. He pauses to help lift something, laughs with the crew. His energy is calm, but commanding.]

“I started this company when I was twenty-three. Everyone thought I was out of my mind. No investors, no back up plan – just a vision and a lot of long nights. Now we’ve got properties up and down the East Coast. But for a while.... that was all I had time for.”

[B-ROLL: Rafe in his house: clean lines, high ceilings, very little mess. He pours a glass of bourbon, stares out at the Charleston sunset]

“There comes a point where success doesn’t mean much if there’s no one to come home to. I’ve built the life I always said I wanted. Now I want to share it with someone.]

“I don’t need perfect. I don’t need polished. I need real. Someone grounded. Someone who challenges me. Someone who keeps me on my toes. Someone who sees me – not the headlines, not the number – me.”

[FINAL B-ROLL: Rafe walking up the Bachelor mansion driveaway for the first time. His expression is unreadable – but there is a flicker of something behind his eyes. Hope.]

“People always ask why I said yes to this. It’s simple. I’ve built a good life. A full one. But I don’t want to keep building it alone. I’m ready to find the person who makes it feel like home. Not just to fall in love.

To stay in love.”

[ Cue dramatic orchestral swell. Fade to black]

[tillysslife]

"you almost called me baby" chapter 1: you don't look at your friends like that

walker scobell x teen!fem!reader ( INSTA SMAU )

⋆˚𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃.☘︎ ݁˖: [ home | series | ch 2 ]

Liked by iamcharliebushnell and others

@/dior.n.goodjohn tried to get matching hats got matching crushes instead (2nd slide is @/yourusername DEFINITELY not missing sum1 so..)

[tags: @/yourusername @/leahsavajeffries]

@/yourusername: you speak for yourself 🙄

@/leahsavajeffries: LMAOOO be serious

@/walker.scobell: ?? what does this mean

@/iamcharliebushnell: just here for the food tbh

@/fanedit.luvrr: matching WHATTT!?!?#&@&!

Liked by yourusername and others

@/iamcharliebushnell house full of heartbeats, snacks, and old baby photos. guess which one's me

@/leahsavajeffries: im stealing the last slide, sorry not sorry 🤷‍♀️

⤷ @/iamcharliebushnell: consider this your warning

⤷ @/dior.n.goodjohn: too late she already changed her lockscreen

@/aryansimhadri: bring back the baby curls fr

⤷ @/iamcharliebushnell: that era's retired

@/walker.scobell: you haven't changed a bit (except less baby fat maybe)

⤷ @/yourusername: he's got a point

Liked by leahsavajeffries and others

@/yourusername he said ‘let’s study’ and then fell asleep 12 minutes in. i fear i’m in this alone........

@/iamcharliebushnell: he asked me what mitochondria was yesterday

⤷ @/yourusername: no bc that explains everything...

@/leahsavajeffries: girl be so real, he came for the snacks 😟

⤷ @/yourusername: literally

@/dior.n.goodjohn: walker can never be too srs ngl

@/graciespines_1928: making me want to romanticize my next cram session

taglist: @tuttifrutt1 @percabeth-child @daphne00daiz

[tillysslife]

wsp with you—part two

pairing: walker & teen!actor

warnings: none <333

you stared at your phone like it had personally betrayed you. where were the spies on your phone? they should’ve not let this reach your eyes.

walk💙

we gonna talk about this or what?

or what!! that was your choice. there was no way you could face him like this. your face was akin to a roasted tomato and the amount of energy flurrying in your chest was enough to power a neighbourhood at christmas time.

so instead, you did what any spiralling girl would and called your best friend from home. you would’ve loved to talk about this with leah but she was too close to the action, she had been plotting on this for months and you needed some real advice.

with trembling hands you pressed on the facetime button like your life depended on it and waited for scarlet to answer.

when she did you let out the scream you had been holding in, “oh my god!” you said, raking a hand through your hair in an attempt to busy yourself. “oh my GOD!”

scarlet held her hands to her ears, your shriek obviously not what she was expecting. “why are you screaming?” she yelled back, eyes wide with terror. “you either got hit by a car or something happened with walker.”

“he texted me,” you sighed, voice lowered to a normal human level as you flopped back dramatically on your bed. “like, full sentence and grammar. ‘we gonna talk or what?’ who does he think he is, a lead in a romcom?”

she gasps, a smirk making its way onto her face even though she had no idea what they were going to talk about. “right. and to make sure i’m crystal clear here. what the fuck do you have to talk about?”

“oh you haven’t seen it? well y’know that trend that’s like ‘they say shooters shoot. duke dennis what’s up with you?’ well…i may have done something.”

“you didn’t!” she cackled, falling back into her own bed in a fit of laughter. “oh my god, y/n, that’s priceless.”

you whined. “it is so not funny. what if what he wants to talk about is that i overstepped our boundaries and i shouldn’t have made that post.”

that was what you were really scared about. you and walker had developed a true ‘platonic’ relationship and you didn’t want to ruin it because of a stupid tiktok trend that would disappear in a few days. god why did you always ruin everything?

“i’ve just looked at the post and to me it looks like he said, and i quote. “oh. bet?” does that really mean nothing to you y/n l/n?” scarlet inquired, her eyebrow raised halfway to her forehead with a look of disbelief. “god you always were oblivious,” she joked.

but you couldn’t even hear her any more because a notification at the top of your phone read his name.

“babe?” scarlet questioned, eyebrows drawn together. “you’ve gone deadly pale. what have you done this time?”

you dropped your phone from your hands, watching helplessly as it bounced on the bed. “he texted me. again,” you whispered. “oh my god what do i do? do i pretend i’ve fallen off my balcony?”

your best friend shook her head, pursing her lips as she thought. “no. first you’re going to read me this new message and then i’ll help you find a new name and you can fly to mexico, okay?”

you nodded wordlessly, as you exited the facetime app and clicked on you and walker’s thread again. “i’m scared to look what if he hates me now?”

“this is walker we’re talking about. you could kill his dog and he’d forgive you.”

nonetheless, you bit on your lip, eyes shut as you fought for the courage to open them. this was scary. you had never had this reaction to a boy before. was this really what having a crush felt like? “okay i’m ready,” you finally whispered, eyes fluttering open as you took in his message.

walk💙

hey i’m not trying to freak you out. just wanted to talk. maybe not on the internet. fuck can i call you, y/n?

”he said what?” scarlet choked out, clutching her blanket like it was the last thing tethering her to earth. yeah, now she gets how you feel.

you stared at the screen your voice a half-whisper as you repeated his virtual words. scarlet screamed. you didn’t blame her.

“HE SAID FUCK, like a casual swear? he’s giving boy who’s nervous but trying to play it cool.”

“yes!!” you whisper-yelled, very aware that anything to loud would alert your little sister and bring chaos. you paced the room, massaging your temples. “he swore and then said my name! that’s so hot, why does that sound so hot?”

“because you like him,” scarlet said simply, “and because he clearly likes you back. he wants to talk to you. like about real shit. oh my god this is happening. this is happening!”

you let out a panicked literal squeak. “i can’t. i literally can’t do this.”

“you can,” she said, firm and composed, acting like she was your life coach. “you’re gonna hang up this call and then you’re gonna call him and you’re gonna be normal.”

“i don’t know how to be normal?!”

“figure it out,” she yelled back. “you’re hot and funny and charming. go get your man. i’ll be here having a heart attack while i wait.”

you laugh, nervous but feeling a little bit better after talking to scarlet. “okay i love you”

“love you more, go!”

you hung up.

your heart was pounding so loud you could hardly hear the dial tone.

but then—it clicked.

”hello?” walker’s smooth voice came through the phone’s speaker, sounding a little panicked himself.

that soothed you a bit.

“hey,” you said, barely above a whisper. “i hope it’s okay i called.”

“of course it is,” he rushed to say, his voice softly firm. “i was kinda staring at my phone waiting for it to ring,” he admitted with a chuckle.

you let out the softest laugh, already overwhelmed. “i’m uh— i just wanted to say i’m sorry.”

“for what?” he sounded genuinely curious.

“for posting that. for dragging you into… all this,” you said, gesturing wildly with your hands even though he couldn’t see. “i didn’t think it’d blow up like that. it was supposed to be funny. just a joke. and i totally get it if you never wanna talk to me again or if you think i’m—”

“woah,” he cut in gently, “slow down.”

you went fully quiet, your uneven breathing the only sound echoing through the call. “i don’t want you to hate me,” you whispered, voice shaking.

“of course not, y/n. i didn’t think anything bad about you, okay?” he said, voice steady. “i wasn’t upset at all. especially not at you. i was just…caught off guard i guess. you know i love being dragged into your messes.”

you blinked. “oh.”

he laughed softly, like he was nervous too. “it’s not a bad thing. it’s just—it felt like when you posted that my whole world flipped.”

your heart clenched. in a good way or a bad way you were still unsure.

“i’ve been trying to find the right way to say this for a while now but nothing ever seemed perfect enough for you. i didn’t know if you’d ever see me that way or if i was just this dumb guy who pulled faces at interviews while you sat there being gorgeous, laughing at me while being so ridiculously talented. ”

“walker—“ you murmured, or at least tried to.

“no just…please let me get this out. i’m not good at expressing my emotions and this is scaring the shit out of me, but i need to. you don’t know how many times i wanted to tell you, you’re just so perfect and i couldn’t find the right moment. but then you posted that, and i thought maybe, i wasn’t imagining everything all along.”

your whole body went still, frozen in shock. but your words moved before your normally overthinking brain. “you weren’t,” you started softly, “imagining things. god—i’ve liked you for ages. i just didn’t think you’d feel the same.

“are you serious?” he breathed.

“yes walker. i like you, like, really like you.”

he let out this laugh from the back of his throat—disbelieving and warm and happy. “this feels fake. like i’m gonna wake up.”

“you’re not dreaming,” you said, smiling so hard your cheeks ached. “unless i’m dreaming too.”

another pause. a little silence. but it was the good kind. the kind where you both knew everything had changed, and it wasn’t scary—it was perfect.

“so,” walker said, voice a little shy now, “can i see you? like… not through a screen?”

you laughed, giddy. “yeah. i’d really like that.”

“cool,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice. “guess the shooter did score.”

“guess so, huh?” you giggled, biting your bottom lip.

GUYS ITS FINALLY OUT!! thank you so much for the love on tbe first part it really gave me the motivation to write this out quicker then i ever have. and i’ll work on the requests soon❤️❤️ love yourself bye💋

[tillysslife]

Please please please do pt 2 of the wsp w u walker one

hiii hiii. i’m so sorry i was very inactive on this account but i’m back!!! i will as soon as i get an idea for it. do you have any suggestions?

[tillysslife]

hellooo i’m not sure how to word this but i’m pretty sure this creator on wattpad stole one of your fics😭 it’s legitimately almost carbon copies, they made a few changes as well i think😭

oh my gosh hiiii. sorry i had logged out of this account and didn’t see this. i just checked it and if it was then they seemed to have taken it down. though i found that someone else copied my wsp with you fic and o don’t really know how to take action. thank you so much for telling me though🫶🏼🫶🏼

[tillysslife]

PSA

this is going to become a mostly pjo and walker scobell blog as i have created a separate one for the other lomls drew and rafe.

&& please please please leave requests it would be the light of my world i swear❤️❤️

[tillysslife]

y'all this is drew starkey in the new HAIM mv btw

[tillysslife]

picture perfect

pairing : bf!drew x reader

content : fluff

summary : drew is obsessed with his new camera… and his girlfriend

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drew always wanted to try new hobbies. whether it was chess, basketball (which he sucked at), baseball (which he was slightly better at), painting (which he only liked doing together), or photography– his new fixation. he had done a bunch of research on all the best cameras, types of film, and new settings to try. he was obsessed– in a cute way. you loved watching his puzzled look illuminated by his laptop screen when he was looking at new cameras to buy– his brows furrowing together trying to read all the different specs.

so, once his newest camera arrived, he wanted to take it for a test drive. drew stood up from the couch and made his way to your guys’ bedroom. it only took a few steps since your apartment was kind of small– in the cozy way– you always wanted an apartment in the city, and drew was happy to provide. once you saw this place, you fell in love with its charm and character. all drew needed to see was the way your eyes lit up, and he gave the landlord a check that day, without hesitation.

“hey baby,” drew said calmly, moving to hover over you while you laid on your bed. he had encased you with his arms on either side of you, palms against the bed and his face was getting progressively closer to yours.

“hey, what’s up?,” you replied quietly with a soft smile and laugh that made his heart melt instantly.

“wanna go out. get food, walk around, whatever. put on somethin’ pretty for me, mkay?,” he said, signature smirk adorning his structured face.

“mkay,” you had a curious look on your face, but chose not to ask any questions. you were happy just spending time with him– no matter what you did. he gave you a quick peck before hoisting himself off the bed and walking out of the room.

per his request, you got up from bed, picking out a cute little ‘day-out’ outfit that was good for anything he had planned. after fixing your curls a little, and putting on some light makeup you walked out into the living space, giving drew a little show as you strutted out theatrically.

“how do i look? and yes, you’re allowed to say amazing,” you said as drew looked up from his phone to see you standing there looking absolutely ethereal. he stood up from the couch to walk over to you.

“like a goddess, baby,” he said as he placed his hands on your hips, and pulled you closer. the way he looked right into your eyes made your heart skip a beat.

“ooo even better. yeah, i like that,” you said, pushing your lips out and squinting like you were impressed, before he leaned in to capture your lips. he didn’t waste any time pushing his tongue past your lips, and you gladly accepted him, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull yourself even closer. his grip on your hips tightened as he pulled you flush to him, deepening the kiss.

drew pulled back with a hazy look on his face, like kissing you just cleared his mind.

“mm, ‘s much as i would love to keep doing this, we got places to be, sweetheart,” he said with a lazy smile, releasing his hold on your hips and reaching for your favorite purse, “your bag m’lady,” he said holding it out to you on his fingers.

“oh thank you, sir,” you laughed, grabbing it from him, and placing it on your shoulder. the two of you left your apartment, making your way down the stairs, and into the city.

“sooo what’re we doing?,” you asked, hands secured behind your back as you walked side by side down the pavement.

“jus’ exploring y’know…,” drew responded, looking around for a good spot to test his camera.

“you got a new camera didn’t you, baby?,” you smiled mischievously, knowing what was about to happen in this ‘outing’.

“uh yeah i got a new camera,” he laughed, shaking his head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

—

as the two of you sat at a table outside your favorite little ‘hole-in-the-wall’ restaurant, eating your lunch, drew didn’t hesitate to tell you all about his new camera. unfortunately, even with his current obsession, you had no idea what any of it meant. it didn’t matter though– you were happy just to sit and listen to him talk, and he was even happier to be heard. but, eventually all the tech talk became too much and you had both long since finished your food. he had to be stopped. you reached out onto the table to hold his hands in yours.

“baby, baby… i love you, and you know i love hearing you talk, but can you please just work your magic, and take some pictures,” you said with a hopeful smile that drew, of course, couldn’t say no to. he lifted himself out of his chair and grabbed your hand.

“‘course baby, c’mon let’s go. i found a cool spot when we were walking earlier,” he said happily, pulling you up from your seat.

“okay, okay! i’m coming!,” you laughed as your boyfriend dragged you behind him.

—

“you know my favorite thing about this new hobby?,” drew asked with a cheeky smile.

“what?,” you asked, walking away from him, into the spot where he told you to stand.

“having an excuse for my beautiful girlfriend to model for me whenever i want,” he said, lifting the camera up to point the lens at you. you just smiled and shook your head at his response.

you were currently just standing in the middle of some road that cars weren’t permitted on. you weren’t sure what drew found so appealing about this specific spot, but you weren’t the visionary here.

“what now?,” you stood there, awkwardly, awaiting his instructions.

“what now… you say that like you’ve never done this before. don’t be humble babe, y’know what to do,” he said with a smirk, your laughter filled his ears and he swore he fell in love with you more and more every day. you were literally his dream girl, and he knew he would never find someone like you. your wide eyes, and big, beautiful smile. the way you could make him laugh until he was crying, and the way you got him like no one else did.

he was gonna marry you– one day– he just knew it. he had to at this point because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t physically be able to go another day without you.

“my beautiful muse,” he whispered to himself, one eye closed while he peaked into the viewfinder and clicked the shutter button again.

you continued doing random poses until you ran out of ideas. drew didn’t mind though, he had gotten plenty of new pictures to add to his collection. he was a photographer, but it seemed the only thing he photographed… was you.

you in the city, you in bed, you with your coffee in the morning, you on the subway, you eating, you doing just about anything. his collection was growing, and he loved it.

—

you both walked around some more until your feet got tired, and drew got too excited to develop these pictures so, you headed home. by the time you got back to the front door of your apartment building, the sun was setting– and you had just had the most perfect day.

once you both walked through the apartment door, the first thing you did was change, and the first thing drew did was get the film out of his camera. he was so excited to see how these turned out– that was the great thing about you, you made any picture look good. he turned on the lamp beside the couch, because he knew you didn’t like the big light overhead the living space. you eventually joined him on the couch after changing into a t-shirt and some tiny lounge shorts, head resting on his shoulder as he looked at the now processed pictures.

“look how good they turned out, baby. straight outta a magazine. that’s my girl,” he kissed the top of your head while you just smiled. you turned up to face him, to watch his eyes wander over the images of you in high contrast with the perfect lighting. you had to admit they looked amazing. not because you were in them, but because your wonderful boyfriend had taken them, and he clearly knew his way around a camera because they looked professional.

he pulled out a large photo album that you didn’t even know he had, and flipped it open to the first unoccupied page, which was at least half way through the book.

“what is this?,” you looked up at him and asked with a curious smile on your face.

“my photos,” he said before you took the album out of his hands, and began flipping through it– they were all of you.

“why are they all me?,” you asked.

“because photography is about photographing what inspires you, and you inspire me,” drew responded softly, putting his arm around you.

“aw, drew! that’s so sweet. are you kidding?! these are amazing,” you said, flipping through some more pages.

“yeah? you like ‘em?,” he rubbed the back of his neck with his other hand, like he was actually nervous you wouldn’t like them.

“like them? i love them! you’re so talented baby,” you drifted off, admiring the quality of the photos.

“well it’s easy to get a good photo when you’re the focal point… you’re my muse,” drew looked at you, pupils blown, and the golden cast of the lamp on his face. you didn’t think he could be any more perfect.

“you’re my muse,” you responded softly with a warm smile on your face.

oh yeah, he was gonna marry you.

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[tillysslife]

you’re one of those girls that’s always batting your eyes at Harry. not cause he’s the chosen one, just cause he’s hot. he tells you Luna fixed his broken nose and you say somethin cute like “aww thank god, wouldn’t wanna mess up that face!!” and he gets all flustered and kinda stutters a little bit and then says “yeah.. uh yeah.. thanks? thanks.” you’re making his no-longer-broken nose a whole thing. you’re doting on him, dabbing blood off of his face with a cloth in the common room bathroom. you’re just really close to eachother’s faces on accident and the real mystery of the day is who kissed who first? doesn’t matter, y’all are kissing. his blood is on your face but it doesn’t slow either of you down. his hair is so soft when you tangle your fingers through it. whatever. you’re making out with Harry Potter while blood is dripping down his face and you’ve imagined kissing him sooo many times but it still manages to be better than you thought it would be, and he’s shocked it’s happening at all cause you’re so hot. when you guys pull away and he sees the little smear of blood across your lips and nose he’s profusely apologizing knowing damn well he’s just getting harder the longer he looks at you. he’d never tell you that, though

bonus, he’s lamenting to Ron later: “what the hell was i s’posed to say? aye, you look bloody hot with my blood all over your face? she’d think i was stark raving mad!” and Ron’s going “you never know what birds are into these days, mate” shaking his head and shrugging

[tillysslife]

soft launches—w. scobell smau

pairings: walker scobell x childhood!bsf!reader

WALKERSCOBELL POSTED ON INSTAGRAM

liked by yourusername and others

walkerscobell My favourite view :)

aryansimahdri man…

walkerscobell ☺️

walkersgf guys guys its me...

user the mystery is actually killing meeee

pjofanatic drop the @ or we riot

leahsavajeffries can confirm this is not a pr stunt

yourusername cuties!!

user AGHGHGHG

user walker scobell i am BEGGING you to stop playing wit us

momonatamada i'm eating this up like it's my full time job

⤷user not even mo knows??

charliebushnell when she doesn’t even like him back HA

comment deleted

user i hope whoever this is knows she's the most lucky girl in the world

dior.n.goodjohn walker. scobell.

load more comments…

You were painfully oblivious to Walkers massive crush on you. You two had been neighbours ever since he had moved in to the house beside yours in pre-school. The connection had been instant between you two.

And as age and maturity tracked your friendship what started as meeting outside to draw on the pavement with coloured chalk turned into sneaking out of your houses and trekking to target.

The biggest problem that had ever rose between your hearts was the long time he was away to film Percy Jackson. You two had never spent time away from eachother, opting to go to eachother’s family holidays and even beg to be put in the same classes at school.

Walker having to leave and fly to Canada was tougher than either of you had anticipated. Separation anxiety was definitely a word thrown around by your friends and family, and you missed him dearly. Though, Walker missed you even more.

The separation only clarified Walker’s feelings for you. He was in love with you. He always had been forever but he buried it deep inside, classing it as platonic admiration instead of admitting that he was head over heels and had been for years.

But it was hard to escape feelings that were so all-consuming.

When filming season one wrapped up, the two of you spent all your time together. Giving Walker tons of photos and memories to store with him while he was back in Vancouver for season two.

That is how he started ‘soft launching’ you on his instagram. The first post started with a chaos of questions. Many from you.

His cast members had caught on to his infatuation and only ever commented with disappointed faces to his delusional posts but you were left in the dark.

You didn’t like the gnawing feeling in your gut every time you viewed Walker’s social media. Who was this girl who had him this down bad? Why wouldn’t he tell you? Why wasn’t it you?

You were truly so oblivious that you somehow didn’t even realise that the girl in the photos were you.

It wasn’t until you saw a Tiktok that annotated all of his posts that it clicked .

It shows multiple pieces of evidence that the mystery girl was you. A hoodie the girl was wearing that was on your account as well. A side by side photo that made it look a helluva lot like you. A coffee cup he posted that had your custom order on it.

Suddenly it was viral and everyone thought it was you. Fans of him flooded your DM’s you were tagged in several comments and your friends and his alike were going crazy.

ACCEPT FACETIME FROM SCOOBY🐕

YES OR NO

You don’t even let him say hello before you burst out, “It’s me! I’m the soft launch?!”

“What happened to hello?” He teased, a smirk smugger than you had ever seen on his face.

You rolled your eyes, narrowing your eyes at your best friend. “Hello Walker William Scobell. Now tell me why everyone is telling me that the girl in all those photos was me.”

“Yes sweetheart, it was you the whole time.” He chuckled, dragging a hand down his jaw, “It’s always been you. You’re just oblivious.”

“Hey excuse you. I am not oblivious,” You retorted.

Walker shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “I mean… C’mon who else could it be y/n?”

You can only stare at him, jaw dropped and unable to breathe. Because now that you really think about it, who else could it be. The captions, the hoodies, the messages, the way he had been captured multiple times looking at you like you hung the stars.

You let out a shaky breath, your voice softer now, “So you weren’t just playing the internet.”

His smirk drops, and it is replaced by such a sincerity in his eyes that it takes your breath away. “No silly, I was playing you.”

A laugh bubbles out of your throat but you can’t formulate any word in your head but; oh! The way he’s looking at you right now is like he’s already won.

Walker raises a brow “So… did it work?”

“Did what work?” You question quietly, swallowing forcefully.

His voice goes unbelievably soft, the tone he uses when you’ve just slept over and he’s tenderly waking you up. “Soft launching myself to you.”

Tbe silence stretches and your heart beats at a speed that doctors wouldn’t approve of.

Walker watches you through the screen, ever so patient.

You take a shaky breath “So… you’re saying this whole time… you’ve liked me?” The last two words come out as an uncertain squeak. Like you’re not too sure you want him to hear.

Walker blinks “Mhm, I always have.”

Your stomach flips “And the playlist?”

“Just me trying to tell you I love you through our favourite songs.”

You exhale sharply , your eyes fluttering closed “Oh my god.”

Walker leans closer to the screen, a smile on his lips “Childhood friends falling in love. What a concept.”

Your heart malfunctions. And you hate how easily he’s saying it like he hadn’t just turned your world upside down.

You shake your head, laughing under your breath “You’re unbelievable.”

He grins “You love it.”

You smile because you do. You really, really do.

So you finally voice it, your words hardly a whisper “Yeah I do.”

Walker freezes, the teasing smile fades. His eyes flicker between yours like he has to know you’re being serious, waiting for you to take it back. “…You do?”

You nod. There’s no going back now. “Yeah Walker I really do.”

His face breaks into the biggest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

But before you can even process it he hangs up.

“What the hell,” You mutter.

Then your phone buzzes “Omw. Open the door.”

Your stomach drops and then confusion kicks in. Isn’t he meant to be in Canada right now?

Nonetheless, you sprint to the mirror, fixing your disheveled appearance from running yoir hands repeatedly through your hair when you found out. Two seconds later there’s a knock on the door.

And when you open it, Walker’s right there.

Grinning. Out of breath. Eyes shining with everything that he wanted to say.

And then? He says none of it.

He just cups your cheeks with a quick, quiet “Can I please?”

As soon as you nod, he presses his lips to yours.

YOURUSERNAME POSTED ON INSTAGRAM

🎵ivy—frank ocean

liked by ryanreynolds and others

yourusername yeah my boyfriends pretty cool

walkerscobell Finally mine❤️

comments are limited

[tillysslife]

see you soon billie💙

[tillysslife]

wsp with you?—w. scobell

pairings: walker scobell x teen!actor!reader

warnings: lowkey just walker responding is pretty unrealistic so i guess that

the internet was already obsessed with you and walker. the way you interacted in interviews. the way walkers eye couldn’t focus on anything else when you were in the room. it was all enough for your shippers to go feral.

but now you were just adding flames to the fire.

you and walker had made the decision to never address these rumours. well—until now.

it had started as a silly joke. you had been on set of your recent movie when the trend had shown up on your for you page. and well if the internet was going to speculate regardless, you might as well make things interesting.

you picked a cute photo of yourself for the first screen. typing the words ‘they say shooters shoot’.

then you scrolled through your camera roll for a photo of the blonde boy. you ended up picking a candid from a red carpet event you two had gone to recently. he looked ridiculously handsome. ‘walker scobell wsp with you?’

you giggled as you posted it like a villain when they thought they had beaten the protagonist in movies. oh were you excited for this.

except of course the internet rarely took things jokingly.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

user HELLO? WE WON SHE LIKES HIM? SHE ACTUALLY LIKES HIM

user walker wake up y/n fucking l/n just shot her shot with YOU

user what if i passed out

⤷user what if i screamed

⤷user WHAT IF I ACTUALLY EXPLODED

user just dropped to my knees in the middle of target🤧

dior.n.goodjohn ‘she was mine first’ i scream getting dragged into a white locked room

user HIS REACTION IS GOING TO BE EVERYTHIBG

user better not fumble this gorgeous girl i swear to god😤

charliebushnell @walkerscobell

⤷ leahsavajeffries @walkerscobell

⤷ aryansimahdri @walkerscobell

user walker scobell how does it feel to be the chosen one

⤷ user bro's percy jackson and pulls baddies how is it fair

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

your comments were going insane on every single platform, editors scrounging up any proof that this is real and not just a bit.

but as one comment suggested walkers reaction was the best.

walkerscobell oh. word?

and you just stared at your phone in shock because this was just meant to be a joke and now he’s acknowledging it in front of everyone??

just when you thought it couldn’t get worse your phone buzzed again.

it was walker texting you

walk💙 we gonna talk about this or what

sometimes shooters shoot and sometimes they score.

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

A/N let me know if you want a pt 2 because i've already brewed up an idea in my head

[tillysslife]

ACTORS ON ACTORS–D. Starkey

pairings: drew starkey x actress!reader

warnings: actress!reader taking place of margot robbie in the barbie movie

word count: 1.9k

Your heart fluttered with nerves as you smoothed down your dress in the back seat of your Uber. It was a pink silky dress that clung to your curves, accentuating your skin tone beautifully.

You had recently been invited to the Variety set for a segment called Actors on Actors, and it felt like your career was skyrocketing over the past year. Last year, you won your first Oscars, for Best Actress in a Leading Role for your portrayal of Stereotypical Barbie in the Barbie movie. And now, here you were, doing an interview with the great Drew Starkey, someone who seemed so far removed from your own humble beginnings.

“We’re here, Miss Y/L/N,” your driver pointed out politely. You had been so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn’t realized he’d been waiting for you to exit the car for the last two minutes.

“Right,” you chuckled, offering him an apologetic smile before taking the final steps to prepare yourself for the anxiety-inducing environment—another quick adjustment of your dress, lip gloss smeared onto your lips, and a toss of your hair.

When you forced a smile this time, you dialed it up to perfection—the smile that could only be produced from fear of constant scrutiny. “Thank you.” You beamed, accepting his help as he guided you out of the car.

You watched as he drove away, almost wishing you were him—escaping from your fears, the terror of being put on a screen that would magnify all your imperfections.

You were ushered into the warm studio before you could fully process the motions of your body. The exterior was dull, a stark contrast to the bright, welcoming interior. “You’ll be needed on set in about 15 minutes! Drew’s already here… oh, he’s so handsome, isn’t he?”

You zoned out the wide-eyed assistant. Normally, you would’ve made an effort to at least pretend you were interested in what someone was saying, offering the occasional noncommittal hum or nod. But under pressure, you were never great at multitasking, which felt ironic given your profession of pretending to have it all together.

Soon enough, you were whisked onto the set of the interview. The first thing you noticed was a broad-shouldered man, his presence larger than his already tall frame. You took in the room—two velvet armchairs sitting atop a grey carpeted floor, a decorated black table nestled between them. The set was simple, designed to ensure that viewers’ attention would be on the two actors, not distracted by anything flashy in the background.

But your eyes wandered upon seeing those sharp blue eyes meet yours across the room. His lips tugged into a small smirk as he registered your presence.

Your heels clicked against the floor, sinking into the plush carpet beneath your shoes as you made your way toward him. You summoned up all the charm and confidence you had, giving Drew a saccharine smile and extending your manicured hand.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m Drew,” he greeted, his large, rough hand meeting yours in a soft shake. You only had a moment to admire the sheer size and power of his hand before he withdrew it to his side.

A small blush crept up your cheeks, hopefully hidden behind the foundation meticulously applied earlier in the day. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this,” you admitted, your eyes flitting up to meet his. The dark lashes framing your gaze locked with his, an unspoken energy buzzing in the air between you.

Drew’s smirk softened, his blue eyes flickering with curiosity. “Likewise. You were incredible in Barbie,” he said, his tone warm but with an underlying admiration.

Your lips curved into a modest smile. “Thank you, that role meant a lot to me,” you replied, your voice quiet, reflective. “But I have to say, I’ve been hearing so much about your new project, Queer—I’m really excited to see it.”

Drew chuckled softly, a light blush creeping up his neck. “It’s definitely been a wild ride,” he admitted. He was about to expand on his opinion before the film crew instructed the duo to take their seats. 

Drew gestured for you to take a seat first, nodding towards the area. You sank into the red armchair, crossing your legs, inadvertently making the hem of your dress rise. You watched as Drew settled into the chair across from you, giving you the chance to fully inspect him.

He was dressed in a matching navy pinstripe suit with a cream undershirt. His legs stretched long in front of him, posture relaxed, but his eyes were intensely fixed on you as if studying your every movement.

He rested his chin against the palm of his hand, his blue eyes never moving from your figure. “So, finally face to face with the exceptional Y/N Y/L/N.” He began, readjusting his position in the chair. 

You breathily laughed “Wow what an introduction.” You smiled softly, your eyes flickering from his eyes, darting down to his lips and then back up again. “It’s hard to believe honestly. I’ve admired you and your work for so long. I feel like I’ve been waiting for this moment longer than I realised.”

“I just call it like I see it.” Drew’s smile grew warmer, his eyes flickering with an unknown spark. “But you know I was just thinking the same thing. It feels like we’ve both been running in separate circles, but somehow, here we are.”

You cocked your head to the side, the smile never leaving your face. You crossed your legs over the other and leaned slightly forward “Well if we’re giving out title, I guess I should return the favour. The incredibly talented Drew Starkey.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair before shaking his head lightly. “Hard to compete with Barbie herself.”

“Well you could pass as Ken.” You retorted, your eyes lighting up. He had this way of making you feel at ease, even though there was a whole camera crew filming you, watching you every move all you could think about was this beautiful man in front of you who made you laugh at every turn.

Drew laughed, the sound deep and genuine “I’m not sure I’ve got the abs for it.” He joked. 

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you fought back a grin “I think you’d be just fine.” The words escaped before you had permitted them, bringing the second and certainly not the last blush of the day.

His eyes light up with amusement. The ait between you two holding quiet electricity–the kind that settled in stolen glances and unspoken thoughts.

“So,” you continued, shifting the topic before the heat in your cheeks betrayed you again. “Tell me about Queer, I haven’t managed to watch it yet but I’ve heard it’s one of your most challenging roles yet.”

Drew nodded, his expression turning thoughtful “Yeah, it’s… different from anything I’ve done before, a period piece. The story is raw, really personal and significant. It follows this guy, Lee,in the ‘50s as he struggles with identity, his relationships. It’s messy and heartbreaking, but also really beautiful.” 

You listened intentionally, caught up in the way his voice softened as he spoke and the passion in his eyes. “That sounds incredible. I think films that really shed light on hard topics are lovely. It’s what the key to acting is, it's truly storytelling. Especially for those who weren’t able to tell their own story.”

Drew nodded and the shine in his eyes confirmed that he admired your words. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

A few moments of prolonged eye contact lingered between the two of you, only broken by being signalled to speak. 

“So, Miss Barbie. Tell me how that was like.”

You interlaced your fingers on your lap, gathering your thoughts to translate your thoughts in the best way. “Every role that I have the privilege to bring to life is an honour. But Barbie really spoke to me. As many other girls, I played with barbies growing up.” You laughed elatedly, recalling your memories. “ Barbie just seemed so… perfect, she was something that I looked up to. Even if I didn’t look like her it was so encouraging to see all of her careers and journeys. There are countless things that I loved while making this movie but it was truly inspiring to have so many strong and individual women in one space. The movie explores topics of patriarchy and male superiorism, something I'm sure every woman has unfortunately experienced before in their life. But then it shows how women come together, it isn’t a hateful jealous relationship, like how it is constantly portrayed in the media but it was true sisterhood. And god don’t even get me started on America’s speech or ‘What was I made for’, I’ll just start bawling.”

“Right,” Drew started, “I remember when I watched Barbie with my sisters the look of… feeling so totally understood was astounding from them, it hurt that this was something they could relate to. But it’s so powerful and impressive how you represented women all around the world, validating feelings they may have been harbouring.”

You met his gaze, your fingers absently tracing shapes in your dress. “Yeah,” you murmured, holding the weight of his words for a moment longer before letting out a light-hearted sigh. “Wow, that got deep fast.”

Drew tilted his head, scratching the back of his head with a smile “I guess you bring it out of me.”

You shook your head lightly at his antics “So, tell me something shallow about you. Balance things out.”

He chuckled, leaning back “Alright, um… I have an embarrassingly extensive collection of sneakers. I don’t even wear most of them, but I keep buying more.”

You gasped dramatically “Drew Starkey, a sneakerhead? Who would have guessed.”

He held up his hands “I contain multitudes.” 

“Alright, my turn. I have an unhealthy addiction to lipgloss. If I leave my apartment without at least three in my bag, I go crazy fighting out what I’m missing.”

You felt Drew’s gaze flick to your lips, his smirk lazy but unreadable. “I noticed. Looks good on you.”

Your breath hitched slightly before you played it off with an eye roll “Very smooth, Starkey.”

He grinned, “I try.”

The crew began moving around the set, adjusting the cameras, but you barely noticed. The energy between you two was magnetic—effortless. It wasn’t just scripted conversation or polite industry chatter. It was real. And if you weren’t careful, it could become something even more dangerous.

But right now, you weren’t sure you minded.

[tillysslife]

i can't do this anymore