Flashing Lights #3

Flashing Lights #3

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter four out ! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Early March 2024

Okay. Maybe Drew was a little attractive. 

Or was he always attractive? Or was it because you haven’t seen him in weeks, and you just forgot about how he looked like? Either way, the man sitting next to you in the car was not the same guy that you met with weeks ago. 

He cleaned himself up good, dressed in a nice white button up and jeans, styled his short hair a bit, and sunglasses that he was sponsored for. The watch adds a richer vibe to it, and several rings on his hand. 

Nah. It’s his outfit that makes him look so attractive right now. Definitely not how he looks. 

Worse of all, you were matching with him. Wearing a classy white dress with white heels, and accessories that you sponsored. You visibly cringe at your outfit choice, hating how well it went with his. 

But what bothered you more was your first public appearance with him, as a couple. A few weeks ago, the pictures of you two together on set was leaked out, and the company immediately confirmed that you two were currently dating. The comments online were mostly negative, with some wondering about the woman he ‘impregnated’ and wondering how you ended up with this guy. 

Now, you had to prove to the whole world that you like this guy, that you are in a committed relationship. This is harder than trying to act for dark films. But you had faith that you could wing it, just like how you always wing auditions and films. 

You reach for your purse, opening it and grabbing a pack of cigarettes. You get ready to smoke one, but he takes it out of your hands. “The fuck?” You curse, glaring at him. His sunglasses make it hard to read his expression, but he was chewing gum, with no smile apparent. “Give it back.”

“No; you’ll smell,” he says. 

You roll your eyes. Well, you needed something to calm your nerves down, so you just grab another one. But Drew grabs both the cigarette and the pack out of your hands, and out of your reach. “Hey!” You yell, reaching for it. “Give it back! Seriously.”

“And I’m being serious too,” he replies, before throwing it to the back trunk. 

You gasp at the audacity, anger running through your veins right now. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I needed that!”

He reaches into his pocket, before grabbing a pack of gum out. “Eat this instead. It’s better and doesn’t smell.”

“You think I’m a fucking idiot? I’m not eating that.”

“It’s all I got,” Drew shrugs. “You want or not?”

You glance behind him at the window, and see the thousands of fans outside, all here to watch the Bahrain Grand Prix. Multiple paparazzi are also pulling up. 

Fuck it. You take the pack from his hands, and eat three at a time. The gum is lemon flavored, and minty too. Somehow, it does relax you. You chew on it, focusing on the minty scent of it instead of how much people were outside. 

“Thanks would be nice,” he murmurs, but you heard him. 

“Hey, you threw my shit back there. You owe me,” you say, slapping the bag of gum against his chest. 

Then, the car comes to a stop, and the driver turns around. “We’ve arrived.” You look outside at the entrance of the F1 paddock, a few paparazzi already standing there.  

The bodyguard at the entrance hurries out, and opens the door at Drew’s side. 

He steps out, and stands in front of you. His hand reaches out for you, and you take it reluctantly, knowing that many people are staring. Flashes go off, and you adjust your dress with Drew’s body big enough to cover. 

“Good?” He asks, and you nod. He lets go of your hand after, walking ahead of you. 

Do tall people genuinely walk faster? Plus, why isn’t he holding your hand or walking beside you? The both of you have an image to sell, and thirty seconds in, he’s not selling anything. 

You slightly run to catch up, and when you do, you lock your hands with his. 

He stops and looks back at you, and you just give him a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hand is warm, big, and also, very stiff. Has he never held hands with anyone before? “Hey, you’re my boyfriend. Did you forget that?” You tug him down to whisper in his ear. 

His red ear doesn’t go unnoticed, and his grip on you tightens. “Right.”

You pat his shoulder away, and walk towards the gate. Paparazzi aren’t allowed in the paddock, so once the staff gives you your passes, you hurry in. But even in the paddock, you attract attention. Cameras turn over to the both of you, and fans glance over. 

You ignore them, just chewing on your gum. You feel very tempted when you pass by the smoking area, but get reminded by your pack of cigarettes disregarded in the back truck. 

Eventually, some photographer comes up to the both of you. You obviously want to keep walking, but Drew stops to listen to what he has to say. “Y/n, a photo for Vogue magazine?”

You open your mouth to say no, but Drew answers instead. “Sure.”

You mentally roll your eyes, smiling for the camera. But the photographer frowns at the man beside you. “Sorry, just Y/n.”

Drew nods, wanting to let go of your hand but you pull him closer. “No; my man stays in the picture,” you confidently say, to which the photographer just nods. You smile for the camera, and the flash goes off. The photographer thanks the both of you, and walks off. 

“What was that for?” Drew asks you as you two continue walking down the paddock. You can feel his eyes on the side of your face as the two of you walk hand in hand. 

But you turn to face him, wanting to see his blue eyes but his sunglasses cover them. “Don’t do that shit ever again. I hate it,” you say instead. 

“Do what?”

“Responding to randoms. I don’t like that, okay?”

“Why not?” 

Can’t he respond properly? What’s with the questions. “None of your fucking business. Just, just don’t answer anyone, or even acknowledge them.”

“Well that’s just rude.”

“And you’re the nicest person alive?” You snicker, once you reach the VIP building, that leads to the observatory and bar upstairs. “Trust me. Your rookie ass has no idea.”

“‘Rookie ass’?” Drew mocks, once you’re in the building. He presses the elevator button, and takes off his sunglasses, hanging them by his button up. “I debuted ten years ago.”

“Not the fucking point,” you say, and see that no reporters or paparazzi were around. You immediately drop his hand and cross your arms, looking away. “And I only did that to sell this stunt.”

The elevator door opens, and you step in quickly, Drew following in. He presses the third floor, the door closing. 

You don’t say a word in the elevator, part of you angry and annoyed. The door opens, and you hurry in. The staff asks for your names, and you give it to her. You ignore the spark in her eyes as she sees the two of you walking together, and leads you to your seats. 

There was a bar area with seats around them, dining tables, and an outdoor balcony area that gave a perfect view of the racetrack and garages. She leads you to the dining area, but Drew buts in. “Could we sit outside?”

You raise an eyebrow at Drew wondering what he's thinking of, and he just ignores your look. “of course,” the staff smiles, taking you to the balcony. 

The two of you sit across each other once you get to your table, and the staff leaves to give you some time to look through the menu. You don’t; instead, you pull your phone out and start scrolling on it. 

Drew, however, looks through the menu and keeps looking around down at the racetrack. Drivers getting ready, and staff rolling the gear out. You’ve been at these races for countless of times, so you’ve gotten used to what goes on here. But Drew? This is definitely his first time here. You chuckle at his widened eyes, as if widening his eyes could get him a better view of downstairs. 

“What?” He turns to you, his expression mean. 

“So obvious that you’ve never been here,” you chuckle.

“And it’s funny?”

“Yes. I’m sober as shit right now, so anything might as well trigger me,” you give him a fake smile, signaling the staff over. She hurries over, and asks for what you would like. “Um, give me five cups of your strongest alcohol drink.”

She nods, and looks over at Drew. “Uh, two lobster and bison ribeyes, and one red wine.”

“Will be right up,” the staff chirps, walking off.

“Two? What, you got a family of four living in there?”

“No; one’s for you,” Drew says. “It would be weird if you didn’t eat and just drank.”

“No one cares,” you say, crossing your arms. 

“I do; can’t have people saying I’m dating an alcoholic.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” you argue, feeling offended. Yeah you drink, but only because it calms your nerves down. And who is he to judge? He ordered a drink too.

“Really? So people normally wake up and drink what, four five bottles of whiskey? People show up to places smelling like they lived in a basement all their lives? You’re a fucking alcoholic, Y/n,” Drew confronts you. 

You scoff, brushing your hair off your shoulder. “Hey, you’ve only met me for three times. Those three times you just happen to bump into a drunk me. So, don’t accuse people of what they aren’t.”

“The first time we met and you called me a cunt.”

“Because that’s who you are,” you say. “you’re a cunt, and I’m not an alcoholic.”

Drew pokes his tongue against his cheek; your argument sucks. 

“Why are you denying your drinking problem, Y/n? And it’s not just you, but the whole industry. You sure they don’t know a single thing? The people you worked with?”

You look away. Why was he lecturing you right now? Its annoying and it’s getting on your nerves. The last thing you needed was a stranger telling you how to live your life. And while he goes to say something else, you snap at him. “Hey! I didn’t sign up for therapy here. Shut the fuck up. No one knows, okay? Plus, the whole industry knows I’ve been through worse.”

You don’t elaborate; but you’re ninety percent sure he knows. The hell, everyone in this whole world knows. 

The drinks arrive, five pink drinks that you’re sure is yours, and Drew’s red wine. 

You spit the gum into a tissue, then immediately gulping down the first one. You’ve gotten used to the burning feeling that alcohol has, so it was like drinking water. Drew just watches you with his blue eyes, slowly sipping his drink. 

You look over at the paddock. The race is starting, five red lights showing. “Its starting,” you comment to Drew, and he puts his drink down, walking over and leaning against the railing. You look at him with amusement, how he’s watching the race with anticipation. 

You gulp down your second drink, and relax, letting the alcohol slowly take over you. After a few minutes, you feel a bit tipsy, but you get up, standing next to him. “Who do you think will win?” You ask, the alcohol getting you friendly. 

“Max,” Drew replies, looking at the big screen across. “You?”

“Sainz,” you say, since he is your favorite driver and driving the car of the brand you ambassador for. 

“Do you even watch the sport?” He teases, his eyes on the racetrack.

You cross your arms, looking at his side profile, “Ferrari never disappoints.”

“So does Max.”

“Its a new season; anyone can win.”

“Not if you’re in Ferrari.”

“Then let’s bet on it.”

He stays silent, still staring at the racetrack.

“Didn’t take you as a gambler as well,” he says after a few seconds. 

“Well, are you scared to lose?” You tease, shrugging your shoulders. 

Drew turns and looks at you amused, his blue eyes staring deeply into yours. Gosh, why does he have to have the most gorgeous shade of blue to be his eye color? He shrugs too, smirking. “No; just scared that you’ll turn into a vicious bitch when you lose.”

You roll your eyes, before looking around for something to bet on. But your eyes land on his phone on the table. Then, you thought of an idea. “Loser, has to post a picture on their instagram of the winner. Caption and photo of the winner’s choice.”

Drew’s eyes widen, but he nods, holding his hand out. You take it, and you shake on it. You walk over and drown the third drink down your throat. The alcohol was definitely working, because you feel friendlier next to Drew. See? Alcohol does help one’s mental, and in your case, it makes you an entirely different person. One that’s nice and less moody. Of course, Drew notices it. But he doesn’t comment on it, knowing sober you would bash at him like crazy. 

You spot his phone, and you hand it over to him. “Since you’re going to lose, why don’t you take some pictures of me?”

Drew raises an eyebrow at you in amusement, taking the phone. You just smile at him, leaning against the railing, getting some poses ready. Drew reluctantly walks across from you, and does the craziest pose in order to get a photo of you. It actually causes you to laugh, and you cover it with your mouth. 

And that gets Drew smiling too. Feeling tipsy, you definitely thought you were seeing things. You calm yourself down, continuing to serve face for the photos he’s taking right now. 

Aw. The image of a perfect couple? Completely sold.

——

The internet goes crazy once again.

First was Drew’s visit to your set. Second was the confirmation of the relationship. Third? The hard launch that you posted. 

A picture of Drew, who’s hugging you from the back, his arms wrapped around your neck. His face is pressed besides yours, and he’s making the most lovestruck face to the camera. And so are you. Well, with the help of alcohol, you’re smiling as if Drew’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With the caption, “Mine.”

Drew smiles proudly while staring at the instagram post, your first post in five years. He glances over at you in the car, only to see that you’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against the window. He reaches over and carefully moves your head to lay on his shoulder, thinking it would be more comfortable. 

You’re deep in sleep that you don’t even care, and Drew just stiffens his posture, to make sure even his smallest movements won’t wake you up. 

While you sleep, Drew just continues to stare at the photos he took of you today, an unexpected smile on his face. Which was just weird, so fucking weird. 

-------------------------------

word count: 2.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: does the ending look familiar? 😚 hoped you enjoyed the first date with Drew! i saw new photos of him at loewe he looked tooooo good. edited till late last night bc i was so excited for you guys to read this one! (also, i'm a big fan of f1, and wondering if there's any sainz fans here other than me.) anyways, like/share/comment to show support! thanks for reading babes <3

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ ps: chapter 1 out! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal. 

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child. 

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer. 

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office. 

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at? 

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues. 

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange. 

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him. 

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place. 

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover. 

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it. 

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing. 

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal. 

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him. 

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well. 

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make. 

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself. 

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease. 

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

-------------------------------

word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

Flashing Lights #2

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ read chapter 3 here! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Late February 2024

“You’re still here?”

You scoff at the naked guy on your bed, who’s laying as if it’s his bed. 

“I thought we could grab some breakfast together.”

You roll your eyes, looking for your silk robe. “No. You- you get the fuck out my house.”

“You weren’t this mean last night, buttercup.”

You throw your head back in annoyance. Why can’t guys just leave the morning after? “I have no idea who you even are. Get out or I'll call the cops.”

He laughs at first, but when he gets no response out of you, he gets up in defeat. “Fine. I’m out of here.”

“Great,” you murmur, getting out of your bedroom. You didn't want to stay around and watch the stranger get dressed, you just hoped that by the time you finished breakfast, he was gone. Honestly, he really thought he was more than a one-night stand? 

You walk down the hallway towards your living room, but you stop yourself.

There's other people in your house.

Why is there people talking in your living room? Were there supposed to be guests here today? But you hear Laura’s voice, but then another person’s voice. And then a third person’s voice. 

And the third person to speak makes his way over to you, and his face reveals itself when he turns around the corner.

Drew. Standing right in front of you. What’s he doing here? He hovers over you, and you feel his eyes on you. “Oh my fucking god,” you laugh out of anger, backing up and crossing your arms. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?”

He doesn’t reply; he’s looking down at your chest now. You look down too, and realize you’re only in a towel. Right. “Hey, my eyes are up here.”

Drew quickly snaps out of it, his blue eyes meeting yours now. His expression is mean, just like how you first saw him at the filming set. But you see the corner of his lips curl up. “Barefaced you is like an ogre.”

This bitch- 

“You’re in my way,” he quickly adds, knowing you were about to insult him back. 

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows, placing your hands on your hips. “No; you’re in my way. What- how are you even in my house? I can sue you for trespassing.”

He doesn’t say anything, the corner of his lips curled up. Is he…holding back a smile? Nope, he’s holding back the urge to burst out laughing at your barefaced state. What’s so funny? You didn’t look horrible barefaced; if anything, you look a few years younger without makeup, and more clean. So what’s this asshole laughing at?

You’re getting more mad by the second. “Why are you in my house? Seriously, are you stalking me?”

“Why would anyone wanna stalk you?”

“Ask the paparazzi outside my door,” you give him a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. 

He shakes his head while rolling his eyes, looking over you, “need the restroom.”

“What? I’m- I’m not moving until you answer my quest-“

He doesn’t ask you to move- simply brushing past you. “Hey- I’m talking to you-“ but the bathroom door closes with a lock, and you groan in annoyance. What an asshole. 

You decide to ask Laura yourself, and walk into the living room. A man in his fifties is also here, wearing a nice suit that matches Laura’s. “Why aren’t you dressed?” Is the first thing Laura tells you, glaring at you as you walk into the open kitchen. 

“I just fucking woke up, Laura. Get off my ass,” you reply, going to one of your top drawers and getting a pack of cigarettes from it. You light it, and just smoke right here in the kitchen. “Who’s this?” You point your cigarette towards the man. You needed a smoke after that brief interaction with Drew, who’s fucking ego can be as high as the Eiffel Tower. 

“Hello; I’m Jeff. Drew’s manager,” he introduces himself, holding his hand out for you to shake. You don’t. 

“And who’s Drew?” You devilishly laugh, finding your own joke funny. Laura doesn’t laugh, just looks away embarrassingly. Jeff takes his hand back and just steps aside. You stop smiling, blowing in some of the cigarette. “Is this the thing now? Strangers in my house?”

“Y/n, we have an important matter to tell you,“ Laura says, her tone strict. 

“Important to you or to me?” You shrug, walking to your fridge and opening it up. There was nothing inside, just a few bottles of alcohol. You find one that was already opened and halfway done, so you open it and drink directly from the bottle. 

Jeff looks at you weirdly, but you couldn’t care less. Laura however, seems to care deeply. “Y/n, for once in your life, can you be serious? Get dressed and we’ll inform you about-“

“Buttercup!”

The fuck?

“There’s a guy claiming to be your boyfriend,” the stranger from last night comes out the hallway, and stops there, seeing people other than you standing in the kitchen. A few seconds after, Drew passes him, and sits down on your couch casually, as if he’s been here a bunch of times.  

You lock eyes with Drew. Did he just say-

“Sir, get out, or we call the cops,” Laura says first, gesturing for the stranger to leave. 

“Alright, I will. I’m just going to. But buttercup, tell me-“

“Fucking leave!” You shout at the stranger, who is taken back by your reaction, but does leave, grabbing his shoes in a hurry. You laugh out of stress, taking another blow of your cigarette. Once the stranger is gone, you walk over to the living room, glaring at Drew, who just looks at you with a cocky grin. “What the fuck did you just say?"

“Y/n, get dressed-“

“No, fucking shut up, Laura,” you shout, your eyes still on Drew. In other people’s eyes, you were like some neighbor’s crazy ass dog. But that was in fact what you were about to be (or maybe how you always are). Crazy and irrational. “Did you just say you’re my boyfriend?”

Drew shrugs, in an annoying and cocky way. 

“You’re not my fucking boyfriend. You’re some stranger, who I’ve never met. You- you shouldn’t even be in my house right now- oh, get that grin off your face, you fucking-“

“Y/n, he is your boyfriend!”

You turn to Laura, eyebrows furrowed. You point your bottle of whiskey over at Drew. “This cunt?”

“Yes, he’s your boyfriend. Now stop calling him that.”

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“You do now, buttercup,” Drew replies, and you turn back at him again. He shrugs, looking at you with teasing eyes. Oh, you wanted to rip his face out so badly. He even sends you a smile, making sure to squint his eyes. 

“I don’t.”

“It’s part of a PR stunt, Y/n,” Laura says, walking over to you. She takes the cigarette and bottle out of your hands, a hand around your shoulder. You furrow your eyebrows at her. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I'll explain in more detail to you? Alright?”

You chuckle, but drop it and push Laura away. “I’m not gonna listen to it. I’m not cooperating. I don’t fucking need a PR stunt.”

“Just listen, alright? Get dressed, and I’ll change your mind.”

You chuckle again, shaking your head. You turn to Drew, who looks away with his jaw locked. This PR stunt is definitely about saving his career. You’re not that stupid; your company wouldn’t get you into relationship if it wasn’t beneficial for you. “Fine,” you say in defeat. “It better be fucking good.”

You glare at Drew one last time, before walking to your bedroom. 

——

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing. 

What’s more, is that you get millions of dollars. Millions of dollars to act as a lovely couple with Drew. 

Although you made a lot of money already, this money was still a lot. Enough for you to take a three year break, if not counting the money you make off of other films. 

You count the zeros again, before setting the contract down and blowing in your cigarette. You blow out, look at it again. Yeah, nicotine wasn’t making you see things, this was real. 

You glance at Drew, who’s holding his face in his hands, focused on his phone. “Did he sign this already?” You ask Laura. 

“Yes, he signed a week ago,” Jeff answers instead, sitting across from you. 

“What if I didn't sign?” You smirk, looking over at Drew. He shows no reaction; which honestly, makes you a bit pissed. Okay, so you’re saving his career, yet he’s acting nonchalant. Is this who you want to save? Is he even worth saving?

“You, actually have no choice. The executives have already decided, this is just so you get the rules and obey to them,” Jeff answers. 

“What?” You laugh, throwing the paper on the table. “So, basically I have no choice in this? This paper is just to make me feel better?”

“Not exactly; but to make sure you know, and that you consent to this stunt.”

You press your tongue against your cheek. “I don’t consent to this,” you say, crossing your arms. “Bullshit, if you ask me. He got the girl pregnant, why drag me into this?”

This made Drew look up. He sets his phone down, and he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows and anger in his eyes. “I didn't impregnate her.”

“Why am I suppose to believe you? This is a risk for me too.”

“And you being an alcoholic isn’t a bigger risk?”

“Hey, I’m saving you. You should be-“

“Y/n,” Laura cuts in, making you turn to her. “Just sign it. It’s an order.” You don’t move to grab your pen. “Y/n, trust the executives. They see the bigger picture, so please, don’t be rebellious and just cooperate, just this once.”

You stare at Drew, who’s looking to the side. You watch how his leg bounces up and down anxiously, his hands intertwined together tightly. 

You laugh. He turns to you, his expression mean. But you laugh, laugh at how he’s actually nervous about you not wanting to do this. So he does get flustered and nervous as well. Good to know. 

You pick up the pen, and you sign, right below Drew’s signature. 

Wow. What an ugly signature he has. 

You cross your arms, looking up and meeting Drew’s eyes. His expression actually softens, and his bouncing leg slows down. “What choice do I have anyways?” You shrug with a smile, one that doesn’t meet your eyes. 

“Thank you,” Jeff says, as you sign the other one. He takes one while Laura takes the other one. “Thank you,” he says again, looking directly into your eyes this time, as if he really meant it. Whatever. 

Laura looks at her watch, and she turns to you. “Y/n, we need to leave for the set now.”

Right. You get up, putting the cigarette between your lips. You glance at Drew, who’s now looking down at his feet. “See you then, boyfriend.”

You chuckle devilishly, walking past him and towards your bedroom.

——

Drew starkey. 

Actor for ten years, 30 years old, and only got famous recently. Known for his character in OBX, and is currently filming Queer with Daniel Craig. He’s labeled as the ‘internet boyfriend’, but you don’t see it. What’s attractive about a guy that lacks basic manners?

You scroll through more of his related news, your curiosity getting the best of you. At first, you didn't want to, your ego stopping you. But, he’s going to be your ‘boyfriend’. You should get to know him, right?

But then you see that he starred in the same Maroon 5 MV as you. 

Wait, what?

Apparently, in 2021, you and him acted as a couple in Maroon 5’s MV. However, you have no memory of it. Or, maybe because you filmed it while you were drunk or high. It happens a lot; you shoot scenes while being high or drunk, resulting in you forgetting what you even starred in. 

Curious, you click in. 

Woah. The first shot it the two of you making out. Then the next clip is the two of you laughing together, staring lovingly at each other.

You close your phone, a bit terrified at that sight.

You have no memory of filming this with him at all. 

Wait, was that why he was so offended when you didn’t know who he was?

“We’re here,” Laura interrupts your thoughts, getting out of the car. 

This was too much for you. You light a cigarette, blowing it in, which immediately relaxes your senses. 

So Drew wasn’t a stranger after all.

-------------------------------

word count: 2.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: ngl, i did not enjoy writing this chapter 😞. but glad you enjoyed the first chapter! and i'll be starting a permanent tag list, so comment if you want to be included. thanks for reading <3

Flashing lights #1

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter 2 out now! index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Late February 2024

Is that five, or six bottles in front of you? 

Your vision is burry, head feeling twisted, and your limbs feel as if they weight a hundred kilograms each. “Shit,” you curse, your hands reaching over to your bag. 

In attempt to reach it without standing up, you fall, and you laugh. Alcohol was able to make that fall feel painless. Getting up however, felt like the hardest task ever, but you manage, and you rummage through your bag for your pack of cigarettes. 

You find it; but no cigarettes to be found in it. 

“Fuck!” You yell, throwing your empty pack across the trailer. Good thing your makeup staffs gone, and no one to see your about-to-erupt tantrum. Reaching for your phone, you call your manager, Laura, only for it to go straight to voicemail. Wow. What are managers even for? 

Gotta do everything by yourself. You throw your phone onto the couch, and walk out of your trailer. You didn’t care whether anyone saw you; you just cared about getting a smoke. 

The afternoon sun is blinding to you, the effects of alcohol making it even more unbearable. Is there a convenience store around? Fuck, maybe you should just ask the staff for a smoke. 

You keep walking along the other trailers, feeling some eyes on you. Well, usually at a filming set everyone is busy with their own business, but you’re Y/n. You grab attention by simply breathing. Others might love it, but growing up in showbiz, you just wish to get away from it. Even if just for a second, you would love to be an invisible person. 

You keep walking, hoping to spot anyone with a cigarette in their hands. But your legs beg to stop, and you feel extra dizzy when you bump into a hard…wall? Well, it was hard, but soft at the same time. 

Warm hands wrap around your waist just as you’re ready to fall onto the ground. Even your drunken state knows that you should be clinging onto something if you’re about to fall, and in this case, you were holding onto the person’s biceps. 

You look up, feeling as if this person was 200 centimeters. Shit. He’s tall. 

His hat is low, but you could see blue circles staring down at you, and although his face was attractive, his expression was mean. As if wanting to murder you. Well, he probably does, since a stranger fell into him. 

“You-“

His cologne hits you, and the urge to throw up hits. 

Vomit splatters on his entire shirt, and just like that, you pass out, still in his arms. 

——

Woah. Even getting up slowly triggers the muscles in your brain. 

You blink a few times, adjusting to the lights in your trailer. What time was it? Did you already finish filming? A million questions enter your head as you look around you, and you notice the five large empty liquor bottles on the table. 

Right. No memory whatsoever. 

A wet towel is on your forehead. Weird, you think, as you throw it to the side. 

But then you hear the trailer’s bathroom door open, and you immediately feel uneasy. Who the fuck could be in here other than you? 

The stranger walks out, and he’s half naked. 

And attractive. 

But he’s half naked! 

You quickly check yourself, and yes, you’re still in your clothes. 

“Who… who the fuck are you?” You say, feeling really unsafe right now. You had no gun, no weapon of any kind, and you were terrified. This stranger was extremely fit and tall, and he was standing just a few feet away from you. 

He’s staring at you with his blue eyes, and honestly, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Is he gonna kill you? Rape you? 

“You have no idea who I am?”

“Yes, you fucking creep. Get out of my trailer before I yell,” you threaten. 

His eyebrows furrow as if you were in the wrong, and he crosses his arms, leaning against your vanity across from you. Woah. His arms. It looks very delicious-

What. “Seriously. Get the fuck out,” you point over to your trailer door. 

He throws his head back, an annoyed groan escaping him. 

What’s his problem? You think, eyebrows furrowed. Okay. That uneasiness, has transformed into anger. “Fuck- get the fuck out, your weirdo. I’m…you know what, I’m calling the fucking cops.”

You look around for your phone, but see it charging on the vanity beside him. 

“Drew Starkey,” he finally says, and you look at him, confusingly. Never in your life have you ever heard that name. Were you even suppose to remember or know this person? He groans again, not even hiding his annoyance at you. “Wow. You’re such a bitch, you know that?”

The audacity- “you’re in my fucking trailer right now. You’re in the faults here. You can’t come in half naked, and act annoyed at me. You fucking cunt-“

The door to your trailer opens, and you squint at the light coming in. 

It was your manager Laura, and she’s holding a bottle of water, a pack of cigarettes, and a folded t-shirt. 

“Laura! A fucking pervert in my trailer-“

“Here you go, Drew. Again, so sorry,” Laura ignores you, handing the man, who apparently, is called Drew, the clean t-shirt. The name he just told you, it was his name? Why did he act so offended earlier, when he said it? Is he like some kind of, celebrity? Impossible; you've met almost all the top actors in showbiz, you would've known him.

“What the fuck,” you voice out, chuckling to get the anger and confusion out of you. You watch as the stranger puts the shirt on, enjoying the way his muscles flex and relaxes is… kind of arousing. But you pull away, feeling embarrassed and egoistic to admit you’re attracted to this rude stranger. 

Laura comes near you, placing the cigarettes and water on the table and sniffs you. “Yeah, you’re still a bit tipsy,” she comments, before grabbing perfume and mints from your bag and sitting down. “Can you still film?”

“What time is it?” You ask, while grabbing the pack and lighting a cigarette up. You breathe it in, and smoke out, immediately feeling more relaxed and in your element. 

“4:20.”

“What time was I suppose to be there?” You giggle, breathing in your cigarette. Oh, it felt so good to smoke. All the energy booster you needed. 

“2:30,” Laura says, sighing. 

“Oh shit,” you laugh, putting the cigarette between your lips. You forcefully spray the perfume on you, knowing the cigarette is probably going to cover the smell anyways. You take another blow of the cigarette, before putting it into Laura’s mouth. She groans angrily at you, and you just chuckle, looking over to the stranger now. He’s not shirtless anymore, and has a hat on. He’s staring at you, with a mean expression now. “What are you still doing here?” You rudely state. 

“Y/n, he’s gonna be here for a long time,” Laura replies instead, and you turn around to her. You look at her with furrowed eyebrows, confused by what she meant. Laura also stares at you with an amused expression. “What, you guys didn't talk?”

You frustratedly throw your arms around and stomp your foot. “What am I supposed to talk about to a half naked guy in my trailer? Laura, use your fucking brain.” 

You turn around and the stranger is now sitting on the couch. You ignore him, turning back to Laura. “Is he my new manager or something? Laura, who the fuck is this?”

“Drew Starkey. You honestly don’t remember him?”

“Am I suppose to?” You reply, reaching for the pack of cigarettes, hoping to bring it with you to set. But ‘Drew’ stops you, his hand, which is surprisingly very warm, wraps around your wrist to stop you. You glare at him, telling him with your eyes to get his hands off you. But he doesn’t. So you verbally express it to him. “Get your fucking hand off me or I’ll chop it off for you.”

“You can’t even walk in a straight line, Y/n.”

Annoyed, you yell, “Get your fucking hand off me."

He does, but he quickly grabs the pack out of your reach, stuffing it into his pocket. Wow. What a jackass. And who is he to care? To take away your stuff? You pray that he gets explosive diarrhea the whole day tomorrow. This asshole deserves it. 

“Whatever,” you say, walking over to the door of your trailer. And he’s right, because you trip over yourself on the way there. You laugh under your breath out of frustration and embarrassment, and turn back around, pointing at ‘Drew’ and looking at Laura. “Get this jackass out my trailer. I don’t care what he is, he better be out of my sight.”

You don’t even bother hearing what her response is, and you leave towards your set. Now, you’re in a worse mood than before. All thanks to the stranger named Drew.

——

Everyone knew you were a good actor. You’re one of the best. And to make it even more astonishing, you’re only 25 years old. Meaning, your acting could get better. But it’s already the best of the best. Maybe its your pure gift, or maybe because you’ve been doing this since you were 13. Either way, you were a fucking good actor. 

The director specifically appointed you to star in his film, which is about the world coming to an end. Director Ravens was quite famous in showbiz, so who were you to decline? Besides, your co-star was Hugh Jackman, a brilliant actor, who you've also grown to admire while filming. 

Your character was a girl in her twenties, who had fallen in love with a stranger despite knowing that the world was getting destroyed within a week. A tragic love story, yet it was beautiful. 

This scene, is your solo one. Your character finds out her brother is dead, and cries with feelings of sadness, regret, and happiness. It’s a scene that would be hard to portray, but you do it well. 

Although you were almost three hours late to set, you make up for it with your acting. One take and the director informs you that it's perfect. And no one disagrees, and the complaints about your tardiness disappears, once they rewatch the scene. You must still be tipsy, because you swear you saw some of the staff shed a tear. 

You don’t offer to watch or reshot the scene, since you wanted to be out of here as soon as possible. But director Ravens insists on another one, hoping to get it from another angle. And you do as he pleases, since, well, he’s the director. 

Wow. One of the most important scenes in the movie only took you twenty minutes to film. 

Director Ravens gives you a break before the next scene, and you walk off before he wants to give you compliments. You didn’t need to hear what you already knew. 

But as you walk over to your seat, someone already occupies it. Drew. 

“You’re still here?” You scoff, crossing your arms. 

You want to rip his blue eyes out to get him to stop staring at you. Why does he like to stare at you so much? 

He pulls a random chair close to him, perhaps wanting you to sit. “Wow. So you can remember faces.”

“Yeah, if they’re as ugly as you,” you lie, because, his face is so damn attractive, that you can’t forget it even if you wanted to. You sit down on the chair, looking ahead of you. “I thought I said I want you out of my sight?”

“You can’t decide that,” he replies. “Who are you to order me around?”

“And who are you to sit in my chair? If anything, you should be kissing my ass right now.”

“Why should I?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” You scoff. “Look around; that’s what everyone else is doing.”

On cue, a staff member hands you a bottle of water, and you take it without saying thanks. 

“And they’re fucking idiots,” Drew says, and you turn to look at him. He’s still staring at you! Crazy. 

“Shut up. As if you didn’t enjoy the show,” you say, referring to your acting just then.

“I did.”

You scrunch your nose in disgust, “good thing you’re not an actor. You’re horrible at lying.”

“I am.”

‘’What? A liar?”

“No; I’m an actor.”

The fuck? Suddenly, a different staff member interrupts the conversation, a girl holding her phone out to the both of you.

“Can I take a selfie with you?” She shyly asks. 

Of course it’s directed to you, so you simply reject her. “Sorry, but-“

“Yeah, sure.”

Your jaw is probably on the floor right now. The girl wasn’t asking you; she was asking Drew. He stands up and takes a selfie with her, and then hugs her goodbye. 

So… he’s famous? No way, because you’ve never heard of him you entire life. Probably a newbie that got famous by luck. 

You look away from him once he sits down, embarrassed to even face him. You just thought he was some staff member that the company had assigned to serve you. But he’s actually an actor? 

“You were saying?” His deep voice interrupts your thoughts, and you feel your ears go red. Holy shit. You need a smoke real bad right now. Fuck that, you need some liquor in you right this instant. 

Director Ravens saves you, yelling that its time for the next scene. So, you hurry and throw the water bottle at Drew, who catches it as though he’s not surprised at all. 

And he smirks, lifting his hat a bit as if to get a better look up at you. “What’s this for?”

Flustered, you walk off without another look back, partly embarrassed and angry. And you busy yourself with getting into the emotions of the character, and soon, Drew is forgotten as if he never existed. 

-------------------------------

word count: 2.3k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: so...what's your impression of y/n so far?

hope you enjoyed chapter one, i had a blast writing this...although, chapter four was the funniest one yet. btw, i am not joking when i wrote slow burn in the warnings, so pls be patient! and i setted this story to start in february, to match the time of real life events. other than that, rest are fictional!

Flashing Lights #4

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter five out soon! index |

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Shit,” you murmur. Somehow, the room card doesn’t work when you swipe it up and down. You just woke up from a nap in the car, and still felt dizzy.

“We’ve been standing here for five minutes,” Drew’s voice reminds you of his presence, who you’ve forgotten about for the last…yeah, five minutes. Yet it felt like five hours, because this damn card wouldn’t work. 

“Shut up,” you groan, still going at it. Your arms and legs felt heavy, so this task was ten times harder than it usually was. 

His hand suddenly takes the card away from you, and he presses it against the lock. The door opens, and you stare at him dumbfounded. It was that easy?

Eager to sit down, you don’t even say thanks and just rush in, kicking your heels off. You take a quick scan of the room. It was a nice suite that Laura arranged, having a small living room, kitchen, bedroom and more. You head to the bedroom, plopping yourself down on the bed. You didn’t care if you had dirty clothes on, hell, it was your bed, you can sleep on it however you want. 

You close your eyes, ready to drift back to sleep, but Drew’s voice interrupts you. “There’s only one bed.”

That makes you sit yourself back up, and you look around. Yeah. He is right, only one bed. Stupid Laura, she couldn’t have gotten a suite with two bedrooms? You look at Drew, leaned against the doorway, his eyes already on you. 

You want the bed. And the look he gives you shows he also wants the bed. 

“I’m sleeping here,” you voice out first, calling dibs. 

“You don’t get to choose,” he quickly says, crossing his arms. “The bed is mine.”

You scoff. “Yours? Maybe the floor is yours, but I’m sleeping on this bed. I need it.”

“You need it? Just ‘cause of some drinks? No, I need it, after spending an entire day with you.”

“Hey, my head hurts like shit. And I’m already laying on it. I’m sleeping here.”

“Fuck no.”

“Go argue with the wall,” you say, laying back down on your back and closing your eyes. This bed is comfortable, and in your tired state, it's the best bed ever. Fuck Drew, he can go sleep on the couch or the floor. This bed is yours. 

——

A hot towel startles you, forcing you to wake up. 

You find the reason behind it; Drew. 

He’s sat on the bed next to you, half naked. Is this part of your dream? 

“Hey; get the fuck off. You stink.”

Okay. Definitely not a dream. “What?” You say, still staring at him. Your eyes lead themselves down his body, at his chest where you notice a necklace, abs that god probably helped sculpture, and sweatpants that hugs his lower waist. Now that he’s sitting next to you, you get a clear look of his body. He definitely works out. 

“A picture would last longer.”

You quickly avert your eyes back up to his face, seeing his stupid smirk. Asshole. Sitting up, you look around and down at your body. He was right; you stink from the alcohol and you feel dirty. How long did you sleep anyways? “Get the hell away from me,” you say, the best comeback you could think of right now. 

Drew shrugs in a ‘whatever’ type of way, moving further up the bed. You watch as he makes himself comfortable, eyes now glued onto his phone. 

You get up and walk to the living room, finding your suitcase and opening it. You grab your underwear and a random shirt, before heading to the bathroom. 

——

“Hey, you’re in my bed.”

Is he dead? You tap on his chest again. “Hey, get up.”

This isn’t working. So, you slap his chest real hard this time, and that causes him to startle awake. He rubs his eyes, and you’re not helping by pointing your phone flashlight directly at him. “What the fuck?” He curses, turning to lay on his back.

“You’re in my bed,” you repeat, more annoyed this time. 

“Can’t you see I’m already laying in it?” He hits you with a familiar line to something you said earlier. 

“Yes, but I claimed it first,” you say, not caring how bratty you sounded. He’s seen worse of your attitude, so you might as well fight for this bed in the most annoying and childish way. “You’re a guy, you can handle sleeping on the couch.”

Drew’s eyes are squinted, mainly due to the light flashed on him. But you couldn’t care less. Until, the corner of his lips curl up again. “I’m not listening to a fucking ogre.”

Now you’re pissed. You grab the pillow from under him, hitting his face repeatedly with it. The phone drops to the floor, but you only cared about causing damage to Drew’s face. Well, a pillow was weak but it was all you got in your sudden burst of anger. 

“Hey-“

"Stop-"

You ignore his calls for you to stop, hitting him with the pillow repeatedly.

Only when his hand suddenly grabs your wrists, and he flips you over onto the bed, is when you stop. He hovers over you, pinning your wrists above you. You’re breathing heavily from hitting him, and his necklace that dangles near your face pisses you off even more. 

“Get the fuck-“

“Y/n,” he cuts you off, and you realize he’s also breathing heavily. The little light from your phone on the ground shows enough for you to see Drew, his expression tired but mean, his blue eyes glaring into yours. “It's 3 fucking am. I just want to have some sleep. In a comfortable fucking bed. So leave me alone, got it?”

He should’ve known better than to say that shit to you, because you weren’t someone who easily listens. “You can have some sleep on the couch. This is my-“

“Fuck, why can’t you just listen like a normal fucking person?”

“Me? What about you-“

“Me what? All I’ve done today was put up with your fucking attitude. It’s only the first fucking day, y/n, and I have to put up with you for the rest of the-“

“You think I want this? Hey, don’t fucking act like I owe you. You got yourself into this-“

“Yeah, yeah I fucking did. And I fucking hate myself,” Drew says, and he lets go of you. When he lets go, you realize how hard he’s been holding onto you, that bruises might form. He gets off of you, running his hands over his hair. “You want this fucking bed? Have it.”

He leaves, and this fight over the bed ends. “Asshole,” you murmur, massaging your wrists. Hurts like a bitch. But at least you had the bed to yourself now, that was all that mattered. 

You pick your phone up from the floor, turning the flash off and placing it on the bedside table. Fixing the pillow, you lay down on the spot Drew was just in. It smelt like him, his shampoo and scent still lingering in his spot. 

And somehow, it doesn’t bother you as much, because you fall asleep almost instantly. 

——

The only person talking in the car is your PR manager Maple, who’s explaining what’s expected when the two of you are on the yacht. Today’s schedule in Bahrain was another stunt, to show the public how sweet you were with each other ‘privately.’

She praises you for the hard launch yesterday, to which you ignore and just chew on your gum. It was just a stupid bet that you lost, yet the internet is acting crazy. 

“Whatever,” you murmur, eyes glued to the scenery outside. 

“Now, there will be a few staff onboard, but just to serve food and drive the yacht around the area,” Maple continues. “So while they’re in eye sight, don’t send glares to each other. Like right now.”

You furrow your eyebrows, glancing over at Drew. Only to find him already staring at you, his expression blank. But you know he’s thinking about something, the way his blue eyes seemed so fixed on you. “What?” You rudely ask.

“Nothing,” he replies, looking away from you. 

Whatever. The car stops near the docks anyways, meaning you’ve arrived. 

As the both of you open the door to get out, Maple says in the most serious tone, “Cameras are everywhere. Remember that.”

“Of course,” you roll your eyes, getting out of the car. Once the both of you were out of the car, Maple drives away. You first look around, checking for the paparazzi. Sure enough, a few of them hid behind the bushes.

“You there?” Drew’s voice pulls your attention back to him. 

You cover your mouth, pulling Drew down by his arm. “Behind the bushes.”

He looks over to the bushes near the dock, and sees the paparazzi too. He then holds your hand, looking away towards the yacht. “Which one is it?”

His hand is warm just like yesterday; the ring on his finger the only thing that feels cold against your skin. You tighten your grip around his hand, leading him towards the white yacht. One of the staff greets you, giving you a warm welcome once you enter the walkway. 

It was one of the smaller yachts, suitable for a short ride around the area. Drew, politely shakes hand with the main manager of the yacht, exchanging a few words. The manager attempts to shake yours, but you just keep your hand intertwined with Drew’s. You don’t even smile at the man. 

He guides you two to the back of the yacht, where the dining space was. You let go of Drew’s hand, sitting down. He sits across from you as the staff places two menus down. “if you need anything, we’re just inside.”

And while the yacht starts to drive off, you stare at the open sea. You needed to smoke so bad. You haven’t done one in almost a whole day, and it was killing you. This minty gum that Drew offered only lasts a small while. 

Good thing you secretly brought one, with the help of Maple. You asked to ‘borrow’ her vape, even though you both knew you were gonna keep it for yourself. In fact, it was the first thing you said to her when you saw her this morning. Everyone whose worked closely with you knows how anxious you get, and how alcohol and smoking could calm you down, so somehow these days, someone always had something for you.

It was like an unspoken rule now, for there to be cigarettes and alcohol near you. 

The vape was in the hidden pocket of your emerald green sundress, out of sight for others yet you could feel it against your thighs. You look at Drew, who was focused on reading the menu. Could he hurry up?

You force him to hurry up, calling the staff back in. “Give me five of your strongest alcoholic drink,” you say, the line becoming your catchphrase almost. 

Drew looks up at you, his expression mean. You just shrug at him. “One Biryani, falafel, and an American stake, and just a plain water.”

The staff nods and leaves, and you raise an eyebrow at Drew. “What did you just order?” You snicker at the funky food names. 

“Look at the menu yourself,” he replies instead, turning his gaze to the sea. 

Okay. You definitely needed a smoke if you were going to be on a yacht ride with this man. You get up, ready to find a bathroom and do your business, but Drew’s voice stops you. “Where you going?”

“Bathroom,” you coldly reply, wondering why he needed to know. When he doesn’t say anything else, you walk inside the yacht. The staff inside looks at you with sparkled eyes, but you ignore them, following the directions to the bathroom. 

Once inside, you lock the door and take the vape out of your pocket. You put the seat down, but not before spitting the gum in it. You take a smoke out of the vape, the chemical running through your veins, and you taste nicotine with the strong strawberry flavor it was. “The fuck?” You curse, always preferring regular cigarettes with heavy nicotine, instead of these fakes with the preppy flavors. 

Well, this was all you got, so you take a few more puffs of it. You definitely feel much better now. 

You stare at the circles you make when blowing it out, and you decide to try making a circle within a circle. You giggle, almost succeeding in one. You then attempt to adjust the sizes of these circles, with each inhale, it gets more and more interesting. You even take your phone out, searching for fun vaping smokes to recreate. 

But your fun wonderland shuts down when a bang on the door startles you, causing you to drop your vape on the ground. “Shit!” You curse, picking it up and wiping the mouth part. 

“Y/n, you in there?” 

Drew. “Busy!” You yell back, hoping he goes away. 

“You’ve been gone for ten minutes, y/n. What the fuck are you doing?” It's been ten minutes? Feels like a minute since you got here.

You stay silent. 

“Open the door, y/n.”

Ugh, too much nicotine in your brain right now. You shake your head, trying to shake some sense back into yourself. “Um, I’m busy! Go away, Drew.” Of course. Saying you’re busy always works. 

“Open the fucking door, y/n,” he repeats, his voice more deep and threatening this time. 

You quickly put the vape in your pocket, shutting your phone. You unlock the door, and Drew quickly opens it. Your eyes widen at how fast he is, because before you know it, he’s in this small bathroom with you, the door locked behind him now. 

He towers over you, and with this tight space, he holds himself up by pushing his arm against the wall behind you. So, you’re trapped between his arm and the wall. “Where is it?” He questions you immediately. 

“What?” You act dumb; crossing your arms and looking directly into his eyes. 

He smirks, licking his lips. He’s staring down at you, and his cologne hitting your nose just reminds you of how close he is to you. “Gosh, you’re a horrible fucking liar. You sure this is what you do for a living?”

Now he was lying. “What are you talking about? I was taking a shit, and you barge in-“

“It smells like fucking strawberries in here, y/n.”

Fuck. Caught red-handed. But you don’t show it, still looking up at him. “Something’s wrong with your nose,” you calmly say. 

He squints his eyes down at you, clearly not believing a word that comes out of your mouth. “Then we’re staying here until I’m right.”

Who does he fucking think he is? “You can stay here, I’m going out.”

You slightly bend down and escape from his arm, going to unlock the door. But you nudge the lock harder than you’re suppose to, your vape falling out of your pocket. 

Okay, now you’re caught red-handed. 

Drew picks it up, and laughs at it. He laughs cockily, knowing he busted you. He then locks the door again, not caring about people that might want to use the bathroom. You just cross your arms, not wanting to admit you were wrong. Wait, you’re not wrong. Nothing was wrong with you vaping. “What? Is it a crime?” You start, unwilling to get ashamed with Drew’s strong presence in front of you. 

“You finished, the entire vape in ten minutes?”

You furrow your eyebrows, grabbing the vape from him. It was empty, but you didn’t realize you smoked that much. “It, it was halfway done when I got it.”

“‘When you got it'? Who did you get it from, a hobo-“

“I got it from Maple,” you hurry to say. “I know she always have one-“

“That’s not the point-“ Drew shakes his head, as if it could help get rid of some of his anger. “You’re fucking vaping in here. A smoke alarm could have went off. Someone could have seen you.”

“Well, they didn’t, so calm your balls down,” you brush it off, turning to unlock the door. But Drew grabs your wrist, pushing you against the door. Hard. You panic, knowing someone outside definitely heard the bang, plus, now your back hurts. “Are you a fucking lunatic? Get off me-“

He takes the vape out of your hands, releasing you to throw it into the toilet. You watch with your mouth open in shock, as he flushes it down. “What the fuck are you doing?” You yell at him. 

“Stopping you from getting into trouble!” He yells back at you, just slightly quieter. “I can’t have the staff finding out you’re running in here to fucking vape.”

“Yeah, as if you cared that much.”

“Yeah, I do care. Because you’re my fucking girlfriend, to not only them, but the entire fucking world. So of course I care.”

“Please. You think you’re that relevant?” You scoff at him. “Hey, they know you because of me. And don’t fucking act like the saint here, you only care about the contract-“

“I’m trying to keep you out of trouble-“

“What trouble? Bunch of people smoke, drink-“

“You are addicted-“

“Literally no one cares, Drew!”

“Don’t deny it, y/n, everyone fucking cares-“

“Will you fucking shut up? No one gives a single fuck about-“

“Ms y/l/n, Mr Starkey, are you in there?” A voice outside asks. 

Drew covers your mouth, but you fight to push him off of you. “Yeah, out in a sec.”

After a few seconds, you immediately push him away. “What the fuck? Now they think we’re fucking in here!”

“Its better than overhearing this conversation, or catching you with vape,” Drew angrily replies to you, running a hand through his hair. 

“No; this is much worse,” you angrily throw back. “Fine. You won’t let me smoke in peace, I’ll drink in peace. And there will be plenty of witnesses then.”

This time, you unlock the door and get out quick enough that Drew couldn’t stop you, or at least, he doesn’t stop you. You walk out, ignoring the staff giving you curious glances, forcing yourself to act as if nothing happened in there. 

You sit down at the table, which was now filled with food and your drinks. You immediately down the first one, the anger inside of you enough to numb the burn. Who the fuck did Drew think he was, interfering with how you want to treat your body?

You down the second drink just as Drew comes out, sitting across from you. You turn your gaze towards the sea, knowing that your mouth will go off once you make eye contact with him. 

This just might be the worst yacht ride ever.

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word count: 3.1k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: this chapter was basically fighting over a bed and vape. thanks for reading anyways! recently i got a bunch of ideas for drew, and i'm so excited to write them! also, wondering if anyone would like to read a ff about jungkook (bts) cause i got a crazy idea for his. also currently into nicholas chavez... bro's such a good actor

Flashing lights teaser

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ ongoing series! | index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The internet goes crazy once again.

First was Drew’s visit to your set. Second was the confirmation of the relationship. Third? The hard launch that you posted. 

A picture of Drew, who’s hugging you from the back, his arms wrapped around your neck. His face is pressed besides yours, and he’s making the most lovestruck face to the camera. And so are you. Well, with the help of alcohol, you’re smiling as if Drew’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. 

With the caption, “Mine.”

Drew smiles proudly while staring at the instagram post, your first post in five years. He glances over at you in the car, only to see that you’ve fallen asleep, your head resting against the window. He reaches over and carefully moves your head to lay on his shoulder, thinking it would be more comfortable. 

You’re deep in sleep that you don’t even care, and Drew just stiffens his posture, to make sure even his smallest movements won’t wake you up. 

While you sleep, Drew just continues to stare at the photos he took of you today, an unexpected smile on his face. Which was just weird, so fucking weird.

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ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hello! this is my first ever story that i'm writing! sorry for some grammar mistakes tho... anyways, hope you enjoy this small teaser! if you enjoyed it, like to show support or comment! thank you <3