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"Hiii this isn’t first time requesting, can you do one where you’re a new actress and walker sees you for the first time on a carpet or at a premiere? Thank you I love your fics!!!"
warnings: fluff, mild awkwardness, brief public setting, secondhand embarrassment but in a cute way, strangers to ???
summary: your first big premiere is supposed to be about your debut– your dress, your co-stars, your moment. but somewhere between the flashing cameras and nervous smiles, you catch the attention of someone who’s been here before.
masterlists | walker scobell masterlist | taglist
the carpet is louder than you expected.
not just loud like people talking– loud like flashes popping every second, like your name being called from five different directions even though half of them are still figuring out who you are. loud like heels clicking, fabric swishing, publicists whispering in your ear, “pause here– turn– smile– one more.”
it’s your first real premiere.
and you can feel it.
your dress fits perfectly– custom, they told you, like that’s something you’re just supposed to be used to now. your hair falls exactly how the stylist wanted, soft but intentional. everything about tonight is intentional.
including you.
“over here! look this way!”
you do.
camera flashes explode.
you smile– not too big, not too small. practiced, but not fake. you tilt your head slightly, just like they showed you earlier. your co-star brushes your arm lightly as she steps beside you, slipping into frame like she’s done this a hundred times– because she has.
“you’re doing great,” she murmurs without moving her lips.
you almost laugh.
great. right.
your heart is beating so fast you’re surprised it’s not visible through your ribs.
you shift, pose again, let them get their shots. somewhere behind the barricades, fans are screaming—some for you, most not. but it still hits you, a little surreal, a little overwhelming.
this is real.
you made it here.
walker wasn’t planning on paying attention.
he’s been to enough of these to know how it goes– step out, smile, do the interviews, don’t trip, don’t say anything dumb, repeat. he’s halfway listening to someone from his team talking about timing when the noise shifts slightly.
you’re standing a little further down the carpet, under a storm of flashing lights that somehow seem focused entirely on you. you’re not doing anything dramatic– no big gestures, no over-the-top posing.
just… standing there.
smiling.
turning slightly when they call your name.
but there’s something about the way you carry yourself– like you’re new to this, but not overwhelmed by it. like you’re figuring it out in real time and still managing to look like you belong.
“new girl,” one of the crew members says beside him. “she’s in that new project with—” he names your co-star, something walker vaguely recognizes.
walker hums, but he’s not really listening anymore.
because now he’s actually watching.
you laugh at something your co-star says, head tipping back just slightly, and it’s not the polished smile from before– it’s real. quick, unguarded.
it catches him off guard.
he doesn’t even realize he’s staring until–
“you good?” someone nudges him.
“yeah,” he says, too fast. “yeah, i’m– yeah.”
he looks away.
then immediately looks back.
just in time to see you glance in his direction.
it’s probably accidental.
it has to be.
there’s no way you’re actually looking at him—there are like twenty other people in between, cameras, handlers, everything. but for a split second, your eyes meet his.
and you pause.
just barely.
like you’re registering something.
walker straightens a little without meaning to.
then your publicist is guiding you forward again, breaking the moment before it can even become one.
the interviews blur together.
you answer questions, smile, nod, say the right things. your co-stars help when you stumble over wording, jump in when needed. it’s like a dance, and you’re slowly learning the steps.
“how does it feel, your first big premiere?”
“insane,” you admit, laughing softly. “i’m trying not to trip, honestly.”
they laugh with you.
it helps.
“who are you most excited to see tonight?”
you hesitate.
you weren’t expecting that.
your mind scrambles for a safe answer– someone from your cast, obviously– but before you can speak, your eyes drift slightly past the interviewer.
and land on him again.
he’s closer now.
talking to someone, half-smiling, hands in his pockets like he’s trying to look casual but not too casual.
you recognize him immediately.
of course you do.
everyone does.
your brain short-circuits for half a second.
“um– ” you blink, forcing yourself back. “honestly, everyone. i feel like i’m just trying to take it all in.”
smooth.
nice save.
but your cheeks feel a little warmer.
by the time you make it inside, your feet hurt.
your cheeks hurt.
your brain definitely hurts.
but there’s this quiet buzz under everything– like adrenaline that hasn’t settled yet.
“you survived,” your co-star grins, bumping your shoulder.
“barely.”
“please. you looked like you’ve been doing this for years.”
you snort. “that is the biggest lie i’ve ever heard.”
“no, seriously. people were talking about you out there.”
you blink. “talking… good or–?”
“good,” she laughs. “relax.”
you try.
you really do.
but your mind drifts back to the carpet. to that moment. to the way–
“hey.”
you turn.
and for a second, your brain fully stops working.
because he’s right there.
closer than before. real, not across a sea of cameras and noise.
“hi,” you manage.
wow. incredible vocabulary. truly.
he smiles, a little awkward, a little unsure—like maybe he’s not entirely confident either.
“uh– hi. i just– i wanted to say you looked really great out there. like– on the carpet. um. yeah.”
there’s a pause.
he winces slightly. “that sounded less weird in my head.”
you laugh.
it slips out before you can stop it, soft and genuine, and it instantly cuts through the tension.
“no, it didn’t,” you say, and then immediately–“i mean– thank you. that was really nice.”
he grins, relieved.
“first premiere?” he asks.
“is it that obvious?”
“kinda,” he admits. “but not in a bad way.”
you tilt your head. “what does that mean?”
“just– ” he shrugs, searching for words. “you don’t look… rehearsed. i guess.”
you huff a quiet laugh. “that’s because i’m not.”
“yeah. it’s good, though.”
there’s a small pause.
not awkward.
just… new.
“i’m– ” he starts, then gestures to himself like you wouldn’t already know. “walker.”
“i know,” you say before you can stop yourself.
your eyes widen slightly.
“not in a creepy way,” you add quickly. “just– like, everyone knows you. obviously.”
he laughs. “yeah, okay, fair.”
“i’m– ”
he says your name before you can.
your stomach flips.
“i know,” he says, mirroring you now, a small smile tugging at his lips.
okay.
that’s… something.
“well,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady, “thanks. for… not making my first carpet experience worse.”
“anytime,” he says. “i specialize in that, actually.”
“making things worse?”
“no–” he stops, laughing. “okay, wow. this is going great.”
“you started it.”
“i did not–”
you’re both smiling now.
and it feels… easy.
weirdly easy.
like the noise from earlier– the cameras, the pressure, all of it– fades just a little when you’re standing here, talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
somewhere in the distance, someone calls his name.
he glances over, then back at you.
“i–uh, i should probably–”
“yeah,” you nod. “me too.”
neither of you move immediately.
then–
“i’ll see you around?” he says, a little hopeful.
you meet his eyes.
and this time, you don’t look away.
“yeah,” you say softly. “i think you will.”
he smiles.
then he’s gone– pulled back into the crowd, into the noise, into everything this world comes with.
but something’s different now.
because as you turn back to your co-stars, to the rest of the night waiting for you–
you can’t stop smiling either.
–and somewhere across the room, neither can he.
nina speaks!
this just kinda wrote itself tbh...
i've never written anything that quickly in my life, and i'm hoping that's a good thing.
anyway, thank you so much for requesting, i hope you like it!
not proof read!!!
thank you so much for reading!
requests are open!
feel free to request anything- specific or not!
click here to be added to my walker scobell taglist.
Note: You are an idiot, and you decide to flirt with the evil, super smart, and attractive scientist who is about ten years older than you.
There is absolutely no way this works.
Unless…?
CW: age gap (you're 20 here, he's 30), secondhand embarrassment, flirting like an idiot, female reader-insert, reader is implied not to be American and to have an accent.
The worst part was that you had not planned to flirt.
At least, not this badly.
You had imagined yourself being normal about it. You had imagined walking into the lab, asking one or two reasonable questions, maybe making him look at you for longer than three seconds, and then leaving with your dignity mostly intact. It had seemed possible when you were outside, when the air was cooler and Xeno Houston Wingfield was still only a terrifying concept in your mind instead of a real man standing several feet away from you with his sleeves rolled back and his voice low enough to make every word sound deliberate.
He was bent over the worktable when you entered, one hand resting beside a spread of notes and measurements while the other adjusted the position of a glass container with calm, exacting care. Sunlight came through the uneven gaps in the workshop wall and caught along the side of his face, tracing the sharp line of his cheek and the faint movement of his mouth as he murmured something to himself. Everything about him looked composed. Elegant, even here, surrounded by crude tools and stone-world materials, as if the entire world had fallen apart and he had simply decided that was no excuse to look anything less than refined.
You should have turned around.
You did not turn around.
Instead, you walked in like an idiot.
Xeno lifted his eyes before you said anything. He did not startle. He did not seem surprised to see you even. His gaze only moved from the paper in front of him to your face, slow and precise, and somehow that tiny motion made your heartbeat stumble like it had missed a step.
"Did you need something?" he asked.
There was nothing suggestive in his tone. It was polite, controlled, and faintly distant, the way he spoke when he was giving someone the chance to prove whether or not they were wasting his time. That should have helped. It should have reminded you that he was dangerous, older, smarter than nearly everyone in the room on any given day, and absolutely not the sort of man anyone should attempt to charm without a plan.
Unfortunately, the only thing your brain registered was that his voice sounded even better when he was speaking directly to you.
"I was just wondering," you said, and immediately regretted opening with that because it sounded suspicious. You forced yourself to continue before he could ask what exactly you were wondering about. "Where are you from?"
Xeno's hand paused on the edge of the table. Not much, only enough to show that the question had not been the one he expected. His eyes remained on you for a moment, unreadable, and then the corner of his mouth lifted with the faintest sign of amusement.
"The United States, naturally," he said, with the mild surprise of a man who had assumed that much was obvious.
And it was. You knew this already...
You nodded too quickly. "Okay."
That was it. That was all you had. Your body had brought you here, your mouth had started the conversation, and now your brain had abandoned you in front of an attractive older scientist with evil posture and vocabulary too elegant for survival conditions. You could feel yourself standing there with the expression of someone trying to act casual while her insides were actively catching fire.
Xeno watched you for another second. "And you?"
For some reason, that simple question was the one that destroyed you. It was easy. Embarrassingly easy. There were hundreds of truthful things you could have said, and several vague things that would have worked if your survival instincts had been functioning. You could have told him your actual country. You could have said it was complicated. You could have said anywhere, anywhere at all, and let the conversation continue like a normal person.
Instead, because you wanted something in common with him and because his eyes were still on you, you smiled with the doomed confidence of a woman already halfway off a cliff.
"The United States."
Xeno's eyebrow rose.
It was a tiny movement, barely more than a shift in expression, but on his face it felt devastating. He did not even have to say anything. He only looked at you, and in the space between one breath and the next, you realized exactly what you had done.
Oh my god. MY ACCENT.
Your smile stayed frozen in place.
Oh my fucking god, I have an accent. I do not sound American. I have never sounded American in my life. Why did I say that? Why did I say that to him? He is literally FROM THERE HE KNOWS what Americans sound like. I need to kill myself.
"Is that so?" Xeno asked.
His voice was mild. That made it worse. If he had sounded confused, you might have recovered. If he had sounded mocking, you might have become defensive. But he sounded interested, and that was somehow the most dangerous option.
"Yes, i-it is so, yeah," you said, because apparently you had decided to die committed to the bit.
Xeno leaned back slightly from the table. The movement was unhurried, almost indulgent, and his eyes did not leave your face. "How unexpected."
You nodded again. It was becoming your only strategy. "Yeah..."
"Which part?"
There it was. The question you should have anticipated from the very beginning. You could hear the answer approaching you like an executioner, and still, somehow, your mouth moved before shame could stop it.
"I um, what part are you from?"
A faint smile touched his mouth.
You knew, immediately, that he knew. He did not expose you. He did not say that you had avoided the question. He only let the silence stretch for one second too long, just long enough for heat to climb from your neck to your cheeks.
"Houston," he said at last. "Texas."
Houston.
Of course it was Houston. His name was literally Xeno Houston Wingfield. You knew that. Everyone knew that. The information had already been in your head, but somehow hearing him say it in that smooth voice made it feel like a gift from fate. The kind of gift a person with no self-preservation would take and immediately swallow whole.
Your eyes widened with bright, doomed enthusiasm.
"Really? Wait that's soo crazy," you said. "Me too."
Xeno went still.
You knew you had made a mistake before his eyebrow even moved this time. You felt it in the air, in the sudden quiet around the worktable, in the very refined way he looked at you as if you had just presented him with a fascinating but poorly constructed hypothesis.
"Houston," he repeated.
The word sounded different in his mouth. He was fully aware of your crimes.
You nodded. "Yeah."
"Truly..."
"Yes," you added, nodding with painful confidence. "Yeah, raised and born."
The sentence came out so smoothly that for half a second, you almost believed you had saved yourself.
Then your own words reached your ears.
Raised and born.
Your fingers tightened around your sleeve. The phrase was wrong. You knew it was wrong. Everyone alive and their mom knew it was wrong, probably including people who had never spoken English before. You had taken one of the easiest expressions in the world and flipped it around directly in front of a man whose entire existence made you feel academically underqualified.
Xeno did not correct you.
His eyebrow stayed where it was, and the corner of his mouth moved just enough to show that he had heard every single syllable. He looked like he was being very polite about not smiling, which somehow made you want to sink through the floor more than if he had laughed in your face. His eyes remained on yours with that unbearable calm, patient enough to let you continue and cruel enough not to rescue you.
"Is that so?" he asked.
"Yes."
His expression remained calm, but there was something terrible and amused in his eyes now. You could not look away from it. You also could not stop talking, which was becoming a very serious problem.
"We probably lived close," you added. "Maybe. Like, not close close, obviously, because Houston is big. I know that. Obviously. But maybe we were, I don't know, in the same area and never met. Like, I guess neighbors, or distant neighbors. But obviously we never met..."
Xeno's mouth curved another fraction.
"Mm. An elegant tragedy," he said.
Your heart tripped over itself. The words were probably meant to make fun of you. They were absolutely meant to make fun of you. But he said them so beautifully that for one stupid second, your brain treated them like flirtation and rewarded you with a dizzy little spark of hope.
You were doing good! Nothing's not going according to plan, but you're still talking with him, and he hasn't brushed you off yet, so clearly you're doing something right.
Then a voice spoke from behind you.
"You're not from Houston."
Your entire body locked.
You turned slowly, already cold with horror, and found Senku sitting near the other workbench with one knee drawn up, a tool hanging loosely from his hand. You had not known he was there. Somehow, that made it feel like he had materialized out of the air for the sole purpose of ruining your life.
He looked at you with no visible amusement.
"You're not even American," he added. His blank eyes flicked once toward Xeno, then back to you. "And he's about ten years older than you. You know that, right? You should know that."
The silence after that was so complete that you heard something small shift on the table behind you.
Your face burned.
"Senku!" You whisper-yelled, horrified.
"What?" he replied. His voice stayed calm, almost bored. "That's what's happening."
Xeno made a quiet sound behind you. Not quite a laugh. That would have been too merciful. It was only the smallest breath of amusement, soft enough that no one else might have noticed it, but you noticed it because you were currently experiencing the worst moment of your life and he was enjoying it.
You spun back toward Xeno too quickly.
"No, oh my god, no that's not what this is," you said, the words rushing out before you could arrange them into anything dignified. "I was just asking where you are. I mean, from. That's normal. People ask that. And Senku, he doesn't even know me like that, so I don't know why he's acting like he knows my entire life story. Pfffft, 10 years older? Why would he even say that, when we're like, we're just talking. But like, I am an adult, side note. Of course, it doesn't even matter, since we're just talking."
Senku stared at the back of your head. You could feel it.
Xeno's eyes narrowed slightly with interest. "He does not know you?"
"Not like that," you said immediately, which did not mean anything and helped nothing. "We just really recently met. He doesn't know where I've been. He doesn't know my background. He doesn't know if I've been to Houston."
Senku spoke again from behind you, still brutally calm.
"You asked what state Texas was in."
Your mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Xeno's smile appeared slowly, and that was somehow worse than if he had laughed outright. It was refined, almost courteous, but there was no hiding the enjoyment in it now. He looked delighted in the quietest, most devastating way possible.
You turned toward Senku with betrayal rising hot in your chest.
"That was private," you hissed.
"You asked in front of six people."
"I was testing you."
"No, you weren't."
"For science," you said, because Xeno was watching and you were trying very hard to sound like the kind of person who belonged in a room with him.
Senku blinked once.
Behind you, Xeno repeated, softly, "For science."
The way he said it made your knees feel unstable. He did not sound convinced. He sounded entertained.
You nodded with painful seriousness. "Yeah..."
Then he leaned one hand against the table and tilted his head.
For a second, you thought he was about to say something that would finish you off completely. He had that look on his face, the calm, interested one that made you feel like he had opened your skull, glanced inside, and found your thoughts embarrassingly simple.
You looked down at the edge of the worktable because looking at him directly was becoming impossible.
"...I panicked," you admitted under your breath.
Xeno was quiet for long enough that you almost regretted saying it. Then his voice softened, still amused, but not sharp.
"Mm. So I gathered."
Your eyes flicked up before you could stop yourself.
He was still watching you, and the worst part was that he did not look offended. He did not even look bored. His smile was small, elegant, and terrible, like the entire thing had entertained him far more than it should have.
"You wished to have something in common with me," he said.
Your face went hot all over again. "No."
"No?"
He tilted his head a little more, and somehow that made the single word worse.
"No," you said too quickly. "I was doing science."
"No, that's it," Senku said, and you heard him set something down behind you. "We're done. Time out."
"What? No." You turned toward him in alarm as he stood from the workbench and came toward you with the exhausted determination of someone removing a dangerous object from a room. "Wait, please, I'm not done."
"Yeah, that's the problem."
"Senku, stop. I'm having a really important conversation with Dr. Xeno!"
He caught your wrist and started pulling you away before you could find a way to recover even one piece of dignity. You stumbled after him, looking back at Xeno in a panic, because somehow leaving now felt worse than staying and embarrassing yourself further.
Xeno had not moved. He only watched the two of you with his hand still resting on the table, his mouth curved like he was trying not to enjoy this quite so openly.
"I'm not actually from Houston," you said quickly, because apparently this was the important thing your brain wanted to clarify while you were being dragged out.
Senku stopped dead and turned his head toward you. "No kidding."
"I know you know that!"
"Then why are you still explaining it?"
"Because he was there."
Xeno's smile deepened.
Senku stared back at him for one long second, and his expression shifted into something almost offended, like he could not believe Xeno had watched this entire circus and somehow come out of it looking pleased.
"Don't encourage her," Senku said. "Don't even start."
"I have done very little," Xeno replied.
You tried to pull your wrist back, but Senku did not let go. "He's not encouraging me. He's being polite."
"He is not being polite. He's enjoying this."
Xeno gave a quiet hum, neither confirming nor denying it.
You looked at him again, mortified and hopeful in the same breath, and that was when his gaze settled back on you. His amusement was still there, but softer now, almost thoughtful.
"For the record," he said, "you did not need Houston."
Your breath caught.
Senku's face changed first. He looked from Xeno to you, then back to Xeno, with the faint disgust of someone realizing that the worst possible outcome had happened. The stupid plan had worked. Badly, embarrassingly, with no skill whatsoever, but somehow, against all logic, it had worked.
Xeno's smile returned, faint and elegant. "Your accent was already charming."
For a moment, you could only stare at him.
"I..." Your voice came out too small, so you tried again. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Xeno said.
Senku made a sound under his breath and dragged you the rest of the way toward the door before you could say anything else.
You nearly tripped over your own feet trying to look back at Xeno one more time. He had already lowered his eyes to his notes again, but he was not as composed as before. The corner of his mouth was still lifted, faint and private, like he was smiling to himself.
That almost killed you worse than the compliment.
"What the hell was that?"
Senku did not let go of your wrist until the two of you were far enough from the workshop that Xeno could no longer hear you. The second his fingers loosened, you ripped your hand back and turned on him with your whole face hot.
Senku stared at you. "What the hell was that?"
"I literally had him in the bag!"
His expression went blank in a way that made you angrier. "You can't be serious."
"I am so serious." You pointed back toward the workshop, nearly stumbling over your own feet because you were too worked up to stand still. "You should have seen his face."
"I did see his face. That's why I dragged you out."
"No, you don't get it. He was smiling. AT ME. Or, because of me. Same thing."
Senku looked at you for a long second, then his face twisted with open disgust. "You're both weird as hell."
You gasped. "You're just jealous."
"Of what? Watching you pretend to be from Houston?"
"Of my charm."
"You asked what state Texas was in."
"That was one time. Stop dragging it!!"
"That was yesterday."
You crossed your arms, still breathing too fast, still trying not to think about Xeno's voice when he had said your accent was charming. The memory hit anyway, soft and elegant and unfairly warm, and your mouth moved before your shame could stop it.
"So what if he's older?" you muttered. "I'm an adult too. It's not even that deep."
Senku's eyes narrowed. "I didn't even say that yet."
You froze.
His stare sharpened with immediate horror. "Oh my god."
"Stop."
"You were thinking about it."
"Stop talking."
"He is ten years older than you."
"So?" you snapped, then immediately lowered your voice because it came out too defensive. "I mean, not so. I mean, whatever. His voice is just really hot. Of course I panicked..."
Senku looked like he wanted to leave his own body.
"Yeah, you're done," he said, turning away. "Thank god I got you out of there before you said something even stupider."
"Senku."
"Stupid ass."
"Stop, you don't even get it..."
"I get it," he said, not looking back. "That's the problem."
You followed him anyway, still flushed, still annoyed, and still longingly glancing back over your shoulder at the workshop.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Y’all know I keep it 💯 so I would be doing y’all dirty if I kept this to myself. But I just read the funniest one-shot Hollanov fanfic “You think there is enough?” by dressedupliketheking on AO3. When I tell you I experienced the gamut of human emotion, engaged all five senses, and reread it three times, I do not exaggerate. Do yourselves a favor and read this amazing story. It takes place after Heated Rivalry s1 after Shane came out to his parents and introduced them to Ilya. This is gonna get us through the long wait for s2. Reply/reblog/reheat 🫶🏽
