drew starkey. rafe cameron. the ocean. clairo. mascara. tan lines. dig cams. gold jewelry. film.

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MASTERLIST.

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requests -

requests are open! if i don't answer it, i'm probably not comfortable writing abt it! :)

au masterlist main masterlist <33

summary - after a week on the farm, rafe was adjusting well into his role. too well. sitting on the porch, simply enjoying an apple, you couldn’t help but ogle him while he got to work.

pairing - blue collar!rafe + farmer’s daughter!reader

warnings - none rlly, slight swearing.

the air was damp and thin, the sun just rising. the golden glow helping to warm my skin. the woven basket of yellow-pink apples i’d just picked this morning sat by my hip on the porch step, my legs curled into my chest as i bit into one myself.

i paused.

mid bite. teeth just digging into the crisp, juicy, sweetness of the fruit beneath my fingers. my fingers dig into my knee a little tighter. eyes locked on something.. someone in the distance.

rafe pulls up, in my dad’s pickup truck. he’d left to pickup some order for the farm. the dirt cracked beneath the old wheels, the brakes squeaking as the vehicle stopped. the door opened, and it was like the rest was in slow motion.

his hand gripped the door frame, lifting himself out. his head has to duck out because he’s so tall. his hands got calloused and dirty fast. he’d only been working here about a week now, and his knuckles were already claiming the reward for his hard work on the farm.

that’s when i saw it.

his hair.

up until this morning, it was a little longer. greasy curtain bangs that dangled in front of his eyes. but now? he got a fucking buzzcut. you’re joking.

no guys ever look good with buzz cuts.

this rule did not apply to rafe cameron, apparently.

maybe he got it because the hair dangling in front of his eyes wasn’t efficient for his work. it was probably getting annoying, getting in the way. so, rationally, he shaves it all off. leaving a faint buzz against his head.

normal, rational action.

but he had no idea what it was doing to me.

he looked older, suddenly. the floppy curtain bangs made him look younger, like a regular teenage boy, my age. but now? he looked like a man.

in just a week—he was already looking like this hard working, dependable man my dad wanted to mold him into.

he pulls himself out of the pickup, his jaw clenched. he pauses, taking a deep breath and wiping the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead with—oh my god.

with his shirt.

he turns just enough and i’m able to see it all. this is so fucked. this is some twisted game.

he lifts the hem of his slightly dirty white tee, bringing it to meet his forehead. and there, on display, his toned stomach. his skin was tanned, and hard. sweat beaded down the rough ridges of his abdomen.

and i wondered what it’d feel like watching my fingertips cascade down instead…

he takes a deep breath and the shirt falls back down.

damn.

he walks to the truck bed, unlatching it and climbing up. he pulls out hay bales. his knuckles tense, his biceps raging as he grabs onto the strings wrapped around the hay, his jaw clenching as he lifts them, tossing them into the grass below with a sharp grunt.

oh my god.

there’s about ten of them. and i watch him. just walk back and forth in the pickup, lifting them, grunting, jaw clenched, biceps… the biceps.

he hops off the truck and latches shut the pickup. and he finally glances up. at the porch, where i was. sitting quietly, apple in hand, frozen stuck between my teeth while i ogled.

i brought the apple down from my teeth and wiped at my lips, praying there wasn’t any drool as i look away quickly. i hear the gravel crunching under his boots as he walks toward me.

“y/n?” he asks, his voice like honey.

i turn my head, my eyebrows raising while i act surprised. “oh, hey, rafe.” i smile sweetly.

he grins, a slight snicker.

he totally saw me. shit.

“what’re you doin’ up so early?” he asks, biceps flexing as he crosses his arms over his chest.

i clear my throat. “oh, um, just went to pick some apples. i saw the tree from my bedroom window and they looked good, so.” i shrug, digging my teeth into the fruit.

“hm.” he looks over at the basket of apples, then i briefly noticed his eyes flick from the fruit between my lips to the soft braids in my hair, and the pale red sundress i’d thrown on.

“aren’t you cold?” he asks, a grin on his lips.

“no.” i shrug.

he just stares a moment longer, and i keep my gaze anywhere else.

“right.” he clears his throat. “can i have one?”

i look up at him. “one what?” my voice shakes slightly.

he chuckles. “the apples, sweetheart.”

my stomach did a flip. maybe two. sweetheart? this is insane.

“oh.” i whisper. “y-yeah.”

i was about to reach into the basket for one for him, but before i even could, he’d settled himself on the porch step next to me, reaching in for a fruit himself.

the apple looked comically tiny in his hand compared to mine. my eyes briefly flick over to him as i watch his jaw tick when he dives his teeth into the fruit.

“mm. sweet.” he mumbles between bites. “like you.”

i cough and sputter, my hand covering my mouth.

“jesus-“ he reaches over, sitting up, his hard palm placed on my upper back as he pats lightly. “breathe, y/n. you okay?”

i swallow the bite of fruit that nearly killed me. “yup. great.” i sputter, my wrist wiping at my lips. i feel the warmth of his hand on my back and i swear i almost choke again.

he chuckles, pulling his hand back. “careful. don’t die on me. that’d be pretty embarrassing, too. dying at the hand of an apple.”

a smile quirks at the corner of my lips and i just hum in response, taking another bite. he grins, a sickeningly charming grin. a small hum of a chuckle slipping past his lips as he leans back on the porch, biting into his fruit as we watch the sun rise.

how farmers daughter!reader meets (future) blue collar!rafe

i imagine here rafe is about 20, reader 18. he’s not necessarily blue collar rafe yet. right now he’s 20 year old rafe who maybe got cut off from ward and had to figure shit out. and he met your dad, who told him he’d help him “shape up.” and it’s here he gets his crazy work ethic once all the rich kid is washed out of him.. and he also finds his girl <33

growing up on the farm your dad owned, you’d seen lots of employees walk in and out. mostly out.

no one ever fit your dad’s expectations. slagging out in the field, forgetting their tasks, just down right pissing the old man off.

then, he met rafe cameron.

the last person he’d ever think to hire. a rich kid, from the outer banks, cut off from his dad. we lived in a much more rural area of north carolina, way inland of the outer banks.

my dad didn’t ask how he’d managed to stumble all the way down here in his khaki shorts and polo. he’d just offered him a ride in his truck to the nearest store to get him clothes more suited for this town. a pair of jeans, and an old t-shirt with the budweiser logo printed on the chest.

after rafe very reluctantly and briefly explained he was let off by his dad—the story had too many details that didn’t add up for dad to count but, he didn’t really care—dad offered him a job. a farm hand. for a few bucks an hour, and he could crash in the guest house.

old rafe would’ve laughed in his face and snorted a line. but current rafe didn’t have many other options. so, he opted for a, yes sir, thank you, instead.

my dad said he saw something in the once rich boy. someone who now realized he had to work for what he wanted. and he thinks rafe is ready. ready to be trained up into a good, dependable, young man. and as the days would go by, dad hoped rafe would turn into a man determined to work hard, make a living, and have his own one day.

all the qualities your dad could only hope you, his sweetheart, would find in a man one day.

“dad.” i groan, leaning back in the wooden chair at the dining table.

“i’m serious, hon. you should y’know.. talk to him, whatever you do.” he shrugs, waving his hands around. “he’s nice, hardworking, serious. not some immature boy who’s just here to play around.” he scoffs, taking his fork and knife, the utensils scraping the plate holding his steak.

“sure.” i huff, rolling my eyes slightly as i pick at my food.

“hey, don’t roll your eyes at me.” he says firmly, taking a sip of his beer.

ever since i turned 18, my dad has been hounding for me to find a serious boyfriend. he insists i need to get my priorities off of the so-called little boys i fool around with now.

he’s being dramatic. i’ve “fooled around” with literally two guys in high school and that was it. they never wanted anything serious, and i did so it never worked out.

my dad only wanted the best for me, i knew that. he was always telling me i needed to find a hard working and dependable man who could take care of me, while i could do whatever i wanted. whether that be staying at home or going to school and pursuing my dream of being a hair stylist.

it was not as easy as it sounded to find someone like that. impossible, actually.

but apparently, this rafe cameron was the answer to all my problems.

“i don’t know, dad.” i sigh, propping my elbow on the table, my cheek smushed against my palm.

he sighs, glancing over at me. “just.. talk to him. say hi. feel him out.” he shrugs.

“fine.” i huff.

-

the next morning, i walked out onto the farm. heading to the horses to take care of them for the morning.

“hi.”

i furrow my eyebrows at the sound of the voice and turn. that wasn’t my dad?

“hi?” i say, confused as i stare at the stranger on our farm.

“oh, sorry.” his large hand grabs his cowboy hat, moving it from his head to hold it at his chest. “i’m rafe. your dad mentioned me..?” he smiles politely, dipping his head in greeting.

“oh.” i say softly.

he was actually hot. all the country boys that work for my dad that he tries to set me up with never are.

rafe was. jesus.

rafe chuckles charmingly, furrowing his eyebrows. “is that a good ‘oh’ or a bad ‘oh’?”

i smile softly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “good.” i nod softly. “its nice to meet you, i’m y/n.” i stick my hand out.

he grins, his much larger hand encompassing mine. my soft, pink acrylics and dainty rings a stark contrast to his calloused knuckles. “nice to meet you, miss.”

i purse my lips and shake my head. “please don’t call me miss.” i chuckle. “i’m pretty sure you’re older than me, anyway. y/n is fine.” i assure him.

he nods, lips pressed together in a teasing smile. “okay then, y/n.” his eyes not-so-subtly drag from my gaze down my body quickly before they snap back up.

i grin. “shouldn’t you be getting to work or something?”

he chuckles. “yeah, probably should. you’re gonna be a distraction, i can tell.” he licks his lips, slipping his cowboy hat back over his blonde dusted light brown hair. he curtly nods one last time before turning on his heel and heading for the barn.

-

i’ve been so obsessed w @issues4him blue collar rafe concepts and one shots and i just needed to write some and make reader a farmers daughter.. plsss go check out their blog they are so good im obsessed !!

anyway here’s the master list for the au <33

MASTERLIST

୨୧ - fluff

❥ - smut

✩ - angst

ꕥ - hurt/comfort

howdy ୨୧

i’ll still post on here occasionally but i’m mainly focused on this fic now :) (pls read it queens!)

i also have a tiktok where there is a trailer for the fic and i’ll post little edits for it !! it’s @ lanasrafe <3

sneak peak :

it’s coming i promise !! i’ve just been procrastinating it and writing it slow bc this is my first time posting smut on here and im nervous LMFAOOO i’ve written smut on other platforms beforeee but im still nervy but trust it’s coming :p

cause she a fashion killa, and i’m a trendy ….

pairing - drew x model!baddie!gf!reader

summary - when drew heads to coachella for the first time with his girl, who’d been many times due to her job. the it couple known for their fashion sense, dancing in tune to songs at the festival rials up both them, and the crowd.

warnings - sexual tension :p

⠀.ᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ೃ❀࿔˙ ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ೃ❀ᮬ࿔˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅ॱ

the sun was beating down harshly, gusts of wind blowing dust all around. i felt drew’s arm pull me closer under his grasp. his strong bicep, wrapped around my shoulders.

“baby, ‘should pull the bandana up.” he says gently, his fingers reaching around by my neck to fiddle with the bandana wrapped around it.

“it’s too hot. i’ll get sweaty.” i mumble.

he sighs, his hand coming up to run through his hair. “but dust is gonna get all in your-“

“not happening.” i smile softly, turning my head to look up at him.

he chuckles, his hands lifting in mock surrender, his arm stays wrapped around my shoulder though. “alright, alright. i’ll stop.”

drew and i were at coachella. he’d never been before, and i go nearly every year. after the first two times, it wasn’t because i wanted to go anymore. it was because brands would hire me to go just so they could design my outfits for the three day festival in the palm springs dessert heat.

so naturally, drew and i being together for the past eight months, it was his turn to be dragged along to this event.

“i don’t get the hype. i mean, yeah, it’s fun, whatever. but like, why pay all this money to be severely dehydrated and covered in dust for three days?” he had told me earlier while we were ironically enough, in the encapsulated and air conditioned vip tent.

we were currently watching doja cat’s set. we stood in the vip section near the front, which was to the left side of the stage by the regular ga pit.

i was wearing a low rise denim skirt that barely held in my ass, a vintage chanel crop, paired with givenchy boots and my layers of gold jewelry. bangles on my wrists, a necklace, hoops, and many, many rings.

while drew, of course, wore his carhart brown work pants, and a loewe white tee, with a blue bandana wrapped around his head.

doja cat was currently playing, starting her song agora hills. i turn slightly to reach into my shoulder bag—which was on drew’s shoulder because why would i carry it when i had him? i grab a piece of gum, sticking it between my glossed lips.

i look up at drew to see him already grinning down at me. the slight scruff growing around his jaw and the mullet peeking out behind his neck making my stomach flutter. “want a piece?” i ask sweetly.

he shakes his head. “nah, thank you though, baby.”

i close up my purse and pat it gently as it rests comfortably, secure in drew’s bicep.

i turn back to face the stage, drew’s arm now fully wrapped around my chest, his hand grasping onto the opposite shoulder as he holds me close against his chest. i sway against him, my hips moving as i watch the performance. i chuckle when i hear a certain part of the song that i knew.

i look up at drew from my spot against his chest, a smug smile on my lips.

“rub it in their face,” i begin reciting the lyrics, my hand lightly tapping against his chest at each accent in the lyrics. “put a rock on her hand.” i raise my eyebrows, wiggling my left hand in his face teasingly.

he smirks, a small snicker escaping his lips. i turn back to the stage and i feel him lean down slightly, his lips snaking against my ear. “don’t worry, baby.” he whispers. “one day you’ll be walking down the runway with a rock on your hand. my little wifey.” he teases, gently biting down on my ear playfully.

i smile, feeling his arm pull me tighter into his chest. my manicured nails come up to hold onto his forearm against me. my eyes drift over to the ga side of the crowd, and see a huge majority of the audience’s phones no longer on doja—but pointed and zoomed in on drew and i’s interaction.

ever since drew and i started dating, the speculations and whispers were circling like wildfire. the it girl model with the new up and coming actor. who wouldn’t talk about it? but we had hoped to keep it private the first couple months—just us, no outside thoughts.

and we did, not officially confirming anything until about our fourth month in. even then, we didn’t actually confirm. our relationship is private, but not a secret. we don’t really post each other, maybe once or twice. but, drew and i couldn’t give two shits about any of it. we knew we were real, and that’s all that mattered.

“oh, they’re gonna eat that shit up, babe.” drew chuckles lowly, catching the same thing i saw.

i shrug. “let them. if all those girls that obsess over you think we’re married, maybe they’ll back off.” i joke with a smirk.

he scoffs. “you think those are your biggest problems? what about all the guys that have a subscription to vogue and cosmopolitan just to see you? i swear walkin’ in to this damn festival, why’d you think my hand was on your ass tryna hold down this little skirt, huh?”

i shake my head with a chuckle, smacking his chest playfully. “you love this skirt.” i turn slightly in his arms, my glossy lips pouting up at him.

he snuggly grins, his hands reaching around and squeezing my ass in the skirt, lifting me slightly with it to bring me closer to his lips. “hell yeah, i do, baby.”

-

it was now ten at night, the air simmering down to a much cooler temperature. drew and i were making our way back to the main stage for the headliner, asap rocky.

we were walking in tune, in the space between the barricade and the stage, security guiding us and trailing us. drew’s arm was lazily draped around my shoulders, my left hand holding his by neck. my bracelet jangle as we walk, my hips swaying in my skirt that had somehow gotten lower as the day went on. i think it was because drew kept pulling is down every chance he got…

my bandana was now wrapped around my head. as we were many drinks in at this point, earlier we were in the vip tent and i was slurring, all over drew as i rambled about how i wanted to match with him, so he helped me and tied my bandana around my head like his.

the crowd scrambled loudly when they noticed us walking by the barricade, screaming, clamoring, flashes from cameras. i grin, when i feel drew instinctively pull me closer into his side, my scantily clad body pulled tight into his warm frame.

“y/n! drew! oh my god!”

“y/n, give me a chance!”

“drew! drew! i love you!”

“you’re so hot, y/n!”

“marry me!”

i giggle under my breath and look up at drew, seeing him roll his eyes subtly at their comments. we finally make it over to the vip section. it was much more crowded now, and drew situated us so i was standing in front of him, pulled flush against his chest so i could watch the show and he could keep an eye on everything.

i hardly needed security when i had drew.

we waited patiently, quietly talking as we waited for the show to start

then, the lights went down, strobe lights flashing as the intro of fashion killa started.

i grin, turning in drew’s arms to face him. “it’s our song!”

he smiles. “it is,” he chuckles lowly.

my arms lace around his neck, his hands finding their home on my hips. i move to the music, a grin on my lips as i move my hips.

“cause she a fashion killa..” i giggle, my head plopping into drew’s chest.

“and i’m a trendy..” he trails off, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

the song continues and i look up at him, my gold jewelry blinging in the lights. he smirks with a chuckle, singing along to the lyrics.

“my bitch a fashion killa, she be..” his hand comes to my ass, tapping it at each beat. “busy,” .. tap. “poppin,” .. tap. “tags.” .. tap.

“she got a lotta prada,” he grabs my hands, extending his arms as he swings me out, then pulls me back in close to him. “that dolce and gabbana,” he chuckles as he bops his head.

i giggle, burying my head in the crook of his neck. he grabs my arms again, his hands sliding up from my forearms to my wrists as he lifts them above my head. “wearin’ all the cartier frames..” he chuckles as he sings with asap.

we continue to dance and i turn around for a part of the song, my back against drew’s chest. i reach into my purse on drew’s shoulder, pulling out my camcorder. i record part of asap singing the song before drew snatches the camera from my hands, making me turn around.

he starts to film me to the song and i chuckle, my hands sliding down my waist to my hips, rolling them, my jewelry dancing with my movements. he groans, throwing his head back. he stops the recording and stuffs the camera back in my bag, his hands quickly coming to my hips and pulling me back into him.

“fuck, baby…” he says under his breath. his hands come up to my cheeks, holding my face close to his. “baby, you and me…” he sings.

“me and you.” i finish with a grin, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug against his chest.

the song continued, drew and i playfully dancing around, singing, hands all over each other. the night went on, drew taking videos of me on the camcorder, me stealing it back taking videos of him. my ass against his front as he rolled my hips against him, drinks making us a bit bolder in public.

almost everyone in the regular ga, somewhere throughout the set, lost their attention off asap, us captivating their gaze instead.

there would be millions of videos online tomorrow of us—but we didn’t care anymore. it wasn’t a secret. it was just private. just us.

-

what i imagine the camcorder looks like at the end of the night… 😝

pairing - rafe cameron x kook!reader

summary - rafe and reader have been in a friends with benefits relationship for months now. it’s been slowly killing both of them, but they’re both too afraid to say anything. it gets to a point and rafe can’t take it anymore. he can’t stop thinking about you.

warnings - fluffy as hell literally throwing up it’s too sweet

my eyes were closed, my lips slightly parted as i let out a huff against my pillow. it was friday. rafe would usually text me on fridays. he’d ask me to come over, stressed out from work, a long week—whatever it was. i didn’t care.

he needed me.

it was friday, at eleven pm, radio silence. not a word from him. i felt a gnawing at my insides. this man had a grip on every fold of my brain. and we weren’t even together. it was pathetic. but i couldn’t stop.

if i couldn’t have more of him, i’d take this. being his for a couple hours a week. all his attention on me, like it was real. for a couple hours, i get to pretend it’s real.

i turn and stare at my ceiling, hoping i’ll hear my phone ping. i was getting tired. but if he texted, i’d go.

it’s pretty sad. i know. my friends have told me to get up, so many times. shake his hold. but i can’t. i’ll take any parts of him he’ll give me.

ping.

i practically fall over as i reach for my phone, frantically checking the notification.

rafe

hey.

hey? i huff, my head plopping against my pillow. another ping.

can you come over?

i stare at the message, taking a deep breath. it was nearly midnight. i should get up. i should say no. say i’m sick of the casual bullshit.

but soon, i find myself slipping my hoodie over my head, sliding into my uggs.

yeah.

is all i say. i didn’t need to say more. there was nothing more i could say. another ping.

i’ll pick you up. it’s late. don’t want you driving.

my eyebrows furrow. he’s gonna pick me up? he’s never done that.. it’s always the same routine. he texts me, i go over. and sometimes he makes me spend the night, whether i want to or not, because he doesn’t want me driving so late.

but he’s never picked me up.

i don’t say anything, heading to my living room and sitting on the couch in my empty apartment. i recently moved out of my parents, and i’d like to say it’s just a coincidence i moved into the complex only seven minutes from tannyhill.

it wasn’t.

my nails nervously pick at the hem of my hoodie as i wait. it was the longest seven minutes of my life. my mind kept racing. something about tonight felt different. he’s picking me up. and it’s so late. it’s usually never this late.

ping.

i’m here.

i swallow roughly and rub my eyes, standing up. i slide my phone into the pocket of my sleep shorts. the only sound in my quiet apartment is the shuffling of my slippers against the hardwood as i walk toward the door. i grab my keys and slide them into my other pocket, heading for the door. i lock it behind me and walk down the stairs, spotting the blaring headlights from rafe’s truck.

i walk towards it, shivering slightly from the cold air hitting my skin. i look up and see him get out, rounding the truck to the passenger side. he opens my door as i approach.

“hey.” i say softly.

he was in a hoodie and sweats, more relaxed from his usual appearance. which contained a white button up, usually unbuttoned by the time i see him, paired with some kind of dress pants.

“hey.” he whispers. his eyes drift down my appearance. “why’re you wearing shorts? it’s freezing, are you crazy?” he sighs, running a hand over his buzzed hair. his hand comes to the small of my back, not even allowing me to respond before he ushers me in his truck. he shuts the passenger door and rounds the vehicle again to his side.

he gets in, the engine humming as he starts it. he glances over at me and sighs, reaching his arm back to the backseat. he grabs a blanket, gently laying it out over my lap.

“nearly thirty fuckin’ degrees, and you’re sleepin’ in shorts.” he sighs, muttered under his breath.

i swallow roughly, looking down as his hands gently linger over the tops of my thighs as he lays down the blanket. “thanks.” i whisper.

“mhm.” he hums, his hands moving to grip the steering wheel as he peels out of the driveway.

the drive to his house was short, and quiet. the heater gently enveloped me, quickly changing my shivering form from earlier to warmth. my eyes stay looking out the window as i feel the occasional glances from rafe to my side. his eyes were like blades, puncturing into my skin at every glance with a sting.

i feel the truck come to a stop as we pull into the driveway. rafe had taken over tannyhill after his dad died, and sarah moved in with the pogues. so, it was always quiet here. sometimes i wonder if he brings anyone else over ever. or just me.

i watch as he gets out of the drivers seat, rounding the truck to my side. he sticks his hand out for me to grab as i step out of the truck. my hand fits in his warm palm, his hand cradling the small of my back as i step out.

i stand by his side as we walk up to the house. i look up at him, my eyes soft. “r-rafe..?”

“hm?” he hums as we approach the door, he fishes through his pockets for the keys.

“um.. are we…” i trail off.

he pauses as he finds the keys, his eyes flicking to me. his gaze runs over my face as he lets out a breath. “no.” he whispers.

so this was something else. i swallow roughly as i feel my stomach drop. was he ending things? i don’t say anything more and he opens the door, allowing me to walk in first

whenever i was in tannyhill, i felt out of place. it was a huge, beautiful mansion. but it carried a darkness to it. i could hardly imagine how rafe lived here alone. it would eat me up. just as i stand in the foyer, i feel small and inferior in the big space.

“hey.” he whispers. his voice snaps me out of my thoughts, his hand coming to the small of my back. i follow him as he guides me toward the living room. my eyes sift over the space and he guides us to a window seat, outfacing the backyard.

he sits and gestures his hand out for me to sit. i nervously pull my legs into my chest as i slip off my slippers.

“rafe.. why-why’d you text me?” i ask softly.

he leans back against the window with a soft sigh, his hand coming up to run over the stubble against his jaw. he chuckles softly, throwing his hands up. “been asking myself the same shit.” he sighs, looking over at me. he presses his lips together, his eyes wandering over me as he thinks. “i’ve been-“ he sighs. “i’ve been thinking.”

i furrow my eyebrows. “okay.. about..?” i ask softly.

he runs a hand over his face. “everything.” he whispers. “i-i’ve been really stressed.” he huffs. “cameron development, all that bullshit. i just have so much pressure on me, y’know?”

i nod gently. “yeah.” i whisper. “i-i get that. but rafe, you’re so much more than that.” sigh.

he chuckles, his tongue sticking to the inside of his cheek as he raises his eyebrows. he turns his gaze to look at me. “i appreciate that. you’re faith in me, i mean..” he trails off. “it’s nice. nobody else has it.”

my eyes narrow at him slightly. “well, i mean it, rafe.” i whisper softly, my hand gently coming to rest on his knee.

he looks down at my hand, letting out a sigh and leaning his head back against the window. he looks back at me, his gaze holding mine. but there’s something different about it this time. an intensity in his eyes i’d never seen before.

his hand comes to rest over my wrist, his thumb gently tracing in my skin. “y/n.. i-“ he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

my eyes blink up at him, my eyebrows knitted together softly. “yeah..?” i whisper.

he’s hesitant. like whatever he wants to say is stuck in a knot in his throat. he takes a deep breath, searching for the words. he swallows roughly. “look, i-i know i’m no good for you.” he whispers. “but there’s.. there’s somethin’ about you, just can’t fuckin’ get you outta my head.” he sighs and pauses before speaking his next words.

“i-i want us to be.. more. than just this. i-i can’t stop thinking about you, y/n.”

my stomach drops. my eyes widen slightly and my lips part. “i- what..?” i whisper, stunned.

he presses his lips together and i see the nerves bubble in his eyes. “i-i know we agreed to be friends with benefits and nothin’ more but-“ he runs his hand over his buzzed head, a satire chuckle escaping his lips. “i can’t fuckin’ do this shit, okay? i-i can’t keep texting you just to fuck and pretending you don’t mean fuckin’ everything to me. i can’t stand the thought of you being with other people i-“ he huffs, leaning back.

“‘m fucking obsessed with you, alright?” he whispers.

my eyes blink slowly, my lips parting. i couldn’t believe it. he felt the same way i did? every time he’d hold me after we’d hook up, a part of me hurt inside. knowing it was temporary. knowing, that i’d never really have him.

and that whole time—he was thinking the same thing.

“rafe, i-i want that too.” i whisper.

his eyes snap over to me, they scan over my features. almost trying to see if i was telling the truth. “really?” he whispers.

“yeah.” i say breathlessly. “i-i’ve wanted so much more. i was just scared that you didn’t. and that if i said anything, i’d lose you completely. so i was just.. settling for what i could get.”

he swallows roughly, his lips parting. his hand comes up to my cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin. “i wanna give you everything.” he whispers. “i-i don’t deserve you. i’m fucked up, and i get angry and i’m selfish. wanting you is probably the most selfish thing i’ve ever done. but i-i can’t get you out of my head.” he sighs softly, his hand gently cradling my face.

“i may be all of those things.” he whispers. “but i’m gonna work so damn hard to deserve you. i’m gonna be better, i wanna be better every time i’m near you, baby.”

i shake my head gently. “you don’t need to be better.”

he smiles softly. “this is what i’m talkin’ about. too sweet for your own good, baby.”

“so.. you wanna be.. real?” i ask softly, my voice cautious. “like.. official and exclusive?”

he grins, nodding softly. “mhm.” he hums. “want you to be my girl. just mine.”

i smile softly, my stomach swarming at his words. “yeah?”

he chuckles lowly. “yeah, sweetheart.”

i can’t help the grin that creeps up on my lips. i scoot closer, burying my face in his neck. “okay.” i whisper, my arms wrapping around his broad shoulders.

his beefy arms immediately encapsulate me, holding my close. “yeah? you my girl, sweetheart?”

i grin, my cheeks heating up this words. “yeah, ‘m your girl.”

he grins, chuckling lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to my jaw. “‘m sorry i didn’t say anything sooner. made you think i was stringing you along.”

“no..” i shake my head softly. “‘m just glad i have you now.” i whisper. “in every way.”

he smiles, tugging me impossibly closer. “in every way.” he promises.

-

I LOVED THIS, I’d like a pt 2 😊

pairing - drew starkey x interviewer!reader

summary - just bc drew is so fuckin flirty with everyone he talks to including interviewers.. like it looks like he falls in love w them every time. #whenisitmyturn. anyway. so drew being flirty as hell with a sweet interviewer on the oscar’s carpet <33 also i’m a film major and just love film so i got this idea in honor of awards seasonnn

warnings - flirting, lots of innuendoes 😝

“three, two, one.. and action.” the camera man says as he starts rolling. i smile brightly in my baby pink silk gown, my hair cascading down my shoulders, makeup perfectly done for the big night.

“hi vanity fair, i’m y/n and i’m your host tonight for the biggest night in film. welcome to the oscar’s! we had an amazing year in film, leading to a memorable awards season. we saw babygirl, wicked, nosferatu, queer, a complete unknown, the substance, and so many more.” i continue my introduction as the stars start to arrive.

i had been doing publicity and journalism in the film industry for about two years now and i got my first big gig tonight. the oscar’s with vanity fair. i mean, i couldn’t believe it. all the connections i could make tonight, it could be my big break.

but what was really in the back of my mind? the fact that my celebrity crush had been at the forefront of award season this year among many new break out actors.

drew starkey.

and i was scheduled to interview him in just a few minutes. safe to say, i was trying not to freak out.

i start off with an interview with nicole kidman, talking about babygirl. as it wraps up, she walks off to the next interviewer and i turn to the camera.

“okay, now that we just interviewed mother i’m not sure if anything will live up to it!” i gush with a smile. i look down the carpet and see who’s arriving next.

daniel craig and luca gaudagnino.

was i sweating? i think im sweating. shit.

this meant drew wasn’t far behind.

i turn to the camera, plastering a grin on my face. “okay, next we have drew starkey. he started with college student films, leading into small roles in feature films like love simon, then to his breakout netflix debut with the hit show outer banks. and now, he’s here for his first awards season run for his A24 film queer!” i introduce, as the camera pans over to him.

my jaw nearly drops.

he was wearing a navy blue loewe suit with a white button up under, and a navy blue bow tie. his hair was messy, his grown out—almost mullet—style complimented by the scruff on his jaw. he had sunglasses on, and as he approached the paparazzi, he pushed them up into his hair.

fans scream behind the barricade, as he smirks with a menacing grin, waving at a few of them.

he takes photos with the paparazzi, even flirting with a few of them.

i’ve seen his past interviews and you can tell he’s a bit of a flirt. which just makes my nerves peak even more.

i watch as he finishes with the paparazzi. his publicist comes to his side, pointing out me and the camera man next to me.

he grins, nodding slightly at us as he walks over.

“hey.” he says softly, sticking his hand out for me to shake. “i’m drew.” his blue eyes pierce into mine. he didn’t even glance at the camera yet, his focus purely on me.

“h-hi, drew. i’m y/n, and we’re with vanity fair.” i introduce, reaching my hand out to shake his. his much bigger hand enveloped mine, shaking lightly.

he lets go and glances at the camera, quirking a brow. “hey, vanity fair.” he chuckles lowly. he looks back at me, his tongue licking over his lips as he looks over my silk dress, then back up to my eyes.

god.

“so. drew, your first oscar’s!” i begin with a grin as i hand him a microphone for him to speak into. “are you nervous?”

he chuckles lightly as he looks down at the mic. it’s usually the microphone i would use, but we had a malfunction before the carpet and had to switch up the microphones.

“yeah, microphone malfunction, ignore it.” i chuckle softly. “yours is bigger than mine.”

he grins, his tongue poking to the inside of his cheek. “oh yeah?”

my eyes widen and i swallow roughly. a small, nervous chuckle escapes me. i should’ve worded that differently. shit.

he licks his lips and his eyes slightly squint as he notices my nerves at the slip up. “i am nervous. about all this.” he says softly. “terrified actually i- uh..” he trailed off, grinning almost like he was holding back.

i raise my eyebrows. “what is it?” i ask softly.

he looks back at me, “i’m just not sure if i should admit to a pretty girl like you that i called my mom in the hotel to talk me down before i got here.”

my cheeks tinge pink as he calls me pretty. focus. i chuckle softly. “no, hey we all need a little mom encouragement sometimes. it’s my first oscar’s too, so we’ll get through it together.”

he grins. “yeah, i hope so. sounds fun.”

i press my lips together in a giddy smile as i glance down at my cards. “so, you’ve just taken on your first big art house type film, queer. the tabloids have said that many directors had their eyes on you for the 2024 film run. what stuck out to you about this script?”

he smiles softly, his eyes focused in on mine like i hung the stars and moon as i asked the question. “great question, yeah, i mean.. luca.” he chuckles. “luca is someone i’ve wanted to work with as long as i could remember. so, i guess that was definitely the surface level..” he moves his hands as he explains. “.. attraction, i suppose. but, i also love the book, william s burroughs, i just fell in love with the story. playing eugene is something i’ll always remember.”

i grin softly, watching as his eyes light up as he explains. “that’s beautiful.” my hand comes to his bicep over his suit jacket sweetly. “i’m glad that your first big film was such a memorable experience. how has the awards season been, press and everything? was it different from press tours you’ve done in the past?”

it felt like we were having our own conversation. the camera wasn’t right next to us. microphones weren’t right below our lips. flashes and shouts weren’t heard in the background.

“oh yeah,” he nods. “for sure. film festivals were obviously something i’d never done before so that was a big adjustment. then of course, big nights like these. the emmy’s, oscar’s, and so on.. it’s been a journey, for sure.” he chuckles. “but daniel and luca have been so guiding and helpful through my uncertainties, i guess.” he smiles.

his publicist taps him on the shoulder and nods her head forward, signaling it was time to move on to the next interview. he politely smiles and turns to me, handing me the mic. he reaches in and hugs me—which i was not expecting.

i grin as he embraces me and pulls back, his hands resting on my forearm, near my elbow. “hey, i hope to see you inside, yeah? it was really great talking to you, y/n.”

i smile softly. “yeah, you too, drew. good luck tonight!” i wave as he walks off.

he turns over his shoulder and winks as he slips into his next interview. i let out a huff of breath, turning back to the camera. “wow. did anyone else just fall in love with him?” i joke.

not joking, actually.

“next we have..”

the red carpet went on for the next hour, interviewing actors and actresses, directors, and other talent walking the carpet. once the carpet concluded, my camera crew of two and i, were escorted inside the ceremony.

vanity fair was among the few only press outlets allowed inside the actual ceremony of the oscar’s.

we were escorted to the press section of the theatre, a small boxed off area by the stage, to the side of all the seats where the stars sat. we set up our little corner, the cameras arranging themselves as i fix my hair, adjusting my mic.

i look over at the audience as we wait for the show to begin, spotting drew almost immediately. and he was already looking at me.

he grins, standing from his seat and gingerly excusing himself past through the rows of actors. and he walks toward the press box.

our press box.

—

bye i’ve been inactive but honestly idk 😭 i’m pretty new to writing on tumblr as well. i’ve been doing it for a few months but i’ve only wrote a handful of fics on here lol. idk if it’s like the way i write or like the topic? idk but im so happy everyone enjoys them!!