#drewswife

[drewswife]

                                                  Clingy

Summary: Rafe has been clinging to y/n all morning

Contains: s2! Rafe, making out, booty grabs, suggestive

Pairings: soft! Rafe x sweetheart!Y/n

Words:1.5k

The morning sun streamed through the blinds, casting a warm glow across the room. You stirred, blinking sleepily as you became aware of a weight on your chest. You smiled, opening your eyes to find Rafe fast asleep, his arm slung over your waist, his face buried in your neck. His breath tickled your skin, a comforting rhythm against your pulse.

You gently disentangled yourself from his grasp, careful not to wake him. You slipped out of bed, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine. You made your way to the closet, pulling out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. As you dressed, you couldn't help but smile at the thought of Rafe's peaceful slumber. He looked so much younger when he slept, his features softened, his brow unfurrowed.

You tiptoed back to the bed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. He stirred, muttering in his sleep, his arm instinctively reaching out for you. You chuckled, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you whispered, your voice soft and melodic.

His eyes fluttered open, a lazy smile gracing his lips. "Morning," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. "Don't leave."

You laughed, pulling up a chair and sitting beside him. "I'm not going anywhere," you assured him, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed again. "Stay," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him close. He sighed contentedly, burying his face in your neck once more. You held him close, enjoying the warmth of his body against yours, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

After a few minutes, he pulled back, his eyes meeting yours. "You smell amazing," he said, his voice a low growl.

You blushed, feeling a warmth spread through your cheeks. "Thanks," you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. "You know," he said, his voice husky, "I think I might be addicted to you."

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his lips. "I think I might be addicted to you too," you admitted.

He smiled, pulling you closer into a deep kiss. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your hips grabbing your ass, sending shivers down your spine. You moaned softly, arching into him. He pulled back, his eyes dark and intense.

"Come on," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Let's go back to bed."

You grinned, following him back to the bed. You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. He reached up, tangling his fingers in your hair. You leaned down, pressing a series of kisses along his jawline, his neck, his chest. He groaned, his hands tightening around your waist.

You pulled back, looking into his eyes. "I love you," you whispered.

He smiled, his eyes filled with love. "I love you too," he replied, pulling you down for another kiss.

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taglist:@chrislilcumslvt @drewstarkeyzwhore

[drewswife]

summary: drew brings you flowers during your miss dior photoshoot

pairings: actress!Reader x Actress!drew

warnings: fluff, paparazzi, kissing, drew being in love.

The studio hummed with the controlled chaos of a high-fashion shoot. Lights glared, reflectors shimmered, and the air crackled with the hushed energy of professionals at work. You, a rising star and the face of the new Miss Dior campaign, posed with practiced ease. The vintage-inspired gown, a cascade of soft pink and ivory, flowed around you like a dream. The photographer, a master of capturing fleeting moments, barked instructions in a clipped French accent, their eyes alight with creative fervor.

"Magnifique! Just a touch more… vulnerability," they commanded, their voice a melodic blend of French and English. You shifted your gaze, imagining a lost love, a poignant memory, and let the emotion seep into your expression. The camera clicked, freezing the moment in time.

Your phone vibrated in your pocket, a gentle reminder of the world outside the studio. You ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. Another pose, another click, another carefully crafted emotion captured on film.

As the photographer called for a brief break, you finally retrieved your phone. A text from Drew: "Thinking of you. Can I bring you something?"

A soft smile touched your lips. Drew, your co-star, your confidant, and, if you were being honest with yourself, the man who held your heart captive. You typed back a quick "Surprise me," and slipped the phone back into your pocket.

The break was short, just enough for a quick touch-up and a sip of water. As you stepped back onto the set, the photographer’s assistant whispered, "You have a visitor."

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew it was Drew.

He stood at the edge of the set, a bouquet of bright yellow dandelions clutched in his hands. Not roses, not lilies, but dandelions – the simple, unassuming flowers that often went unnoticed, much like the way he’d quietly become an indispensable part of your life.

A ripple of amused laughter spread through the crew. Dandelions? For a Miss Dior photoshoot? It was hilariously out of place, yet somehow, perfectly Drew.

He walked towards you, his smile warm and genuine, a stark contrast to the carefully crafted emotions you’d been portraying for the camera.

"These reminded me of you," he said, handing you the bouquet. "Bright, cheerful, and a little bit… resilient."

You took the dandelions, their delicate heads brushing against your fingertips. "They're perfect," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

The photographer, initially amused, now seemed intrigued. "Perhaps we can incorporate them into the shoot," they suggested, their eyes sparkling with inspiration.

And so, the dandelions became a part of the Miss Dior narrative. They were woven into your hair, tucked into the folds of your gown, and scattered around the set, adding a touch of unexpected whimsy to the otherwise polished scene.

The shoot continued, but the atmosphere had shifted. It was no longer just about capturing an image; it was about capturing a moment, a connection, a feeling.

During a break, Drew pulled you aside, his eyes searching yours. "I know this is a big deal for you," he said, his voice low. "And I didn't want to disrupt anything. But I couldn't stay away."

"You didn't disrupt anything," you assured him, your fingers tracing the delicate petals of a dandelion. "You made it… real."

He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "Can I kiss you?"

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest.

His lips met yours, a soft, tender kiss that spoke volumes. It was a kiss that held the promise of something more, something real.

The sound of a camera shutter broke the spell. You pulled back, your cheeks flushed, to see a swarm of paparazzi photographers snapping pictures from outside the studio windows.

"Oh, no," you groaned, the reality of the situation crashing down on you.

Drew, however, seemed unfazed. He took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. "Let them," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

And so, the photos of you, the face of Miss Dior, kissing Drew, the man who brought you dandelions, were splashed across every magazine and website. The headlines screamed of a blossoming romance, a love story.

The reaction was mixed. Some fans were thrilled, others were heartbroken, and some were simply confused. But one thing was certain: the photos captured a moment of pure, unadulterated joy.

taglist:@chrislilcumslvt @chrepsi @drewstarkeyzwhore

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

[drewswife]

summary: You and drew took your 11-month-old to the beach for the first time

warnings: pure fluff

The sun was a gentle warmth on my face, a stark contrast to the cool, salty breeze that danced around us. I glanced at Drew, a wide, goofy grin plastered across his face, his eyes crinkled at the corners as he watched our little bundle of joy, Leona, sitting amidst a pile of beach towels and toys. Today was the day – Leona’s first trip to the beach.

Eleven months old, she was a whirlwind of curiosity, her chubby legs kicking excitedly as she tried to escape the confines of the blanket we’d laid out. Drew had insisted on packing everything but the kitchen sink: a giant beach umbrella, a cooler overflowing with snacks and drinks, a bucket and spade set that looked like it could build a sandcastle fit for a queen, and of course, a mountain of towels.

"Look at her, she's mesmerized," Drew whispered, his voice filled with a father's adoration.

Leona was indeed mesmerized. She stared at the vast expanse of the ocean, her big blue eyes wide with wonder. The rhythmic crashing of the waves seemed to lull her into a state of serene fascination. I watched as she reached out a tiny hand, trying to grab a stray grain of sand that had dared to venture onto her blanket.

"She's going to try to eat it," I chuckled, already anticipating the inevitable.

Sure enough, a moment later, Leona had a handful of sand clutched in her fist, which she promptly brought to her mouth. Her face scrunched up in a comical expression of confusion and disgust as she tasted the salty grit.

"Ew!" Drew exclaimed, mimicking Leona’s reaction, which only made our daughter giggle.

We carefully wiped the sand off her hands and offered her a teething biscuit instead. She gnawed on it contentedly, her eyes never leaving the mesmerizing dance of the waves.

Drew, ever the playful one, decided it was time for some sandcastle construction. He scooped up a handful of damp sand and started patting it into a small mound. Leona watched with rapt attention, occasionally reaching out to touch the sand with her biscuit-covered fingers.

"We need a moat!" Drew declared, digging a small trench around the base of the mound.

I laughed at his enthusiasm, remembering all the childhood summers I’d spent building sandcastles with my own dad. It was a rite of passage, a shared experience that connected generations.

After the moat was complete, Drew added a few seashells and a small plastic flag to the top of the sandcastle. Leona clapped her hands together, delighted with the creation. We took turns snapping photos, capturing every adorable moment of Leona’s first beach adventure.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, and the beach began to fill with other families, their laughter and chatter adding to the joyful atmosphere. Leona, however, seemed oblivious to the growing crowd, completely absorbed in her own little world of sand and sea.

We decided it was time for a dip in the ocean. Drew carried Leona towards the water's edge, holding her securely in his arms. The cool water lapped at Leona’s toes, and she let out a squeal of surprise and delight.

"She likes it!" Drew exclaimed, splashing a little water on Leona’s legs.

Leona giggled, kicking her legs and reaching out to touch the water. We took turns holding her as we waded deeper into the ocean, the gentle waves rocking her back and forth. She seemed to float effortlessly, her eyes wide with wonder as she gazed up at the sky.

After a while, Leona started to shiver, so we wrapped her in a warm towel and headed back to our spot on the beach. She snuggled against me, her little body still trembling slightly from the cool water.

"She's exhausted," I said, stroking her soft hair.

Drew nodded, his eyes filled with love and pride. "She had a big day."

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing on the beach, watching Leona nap peacefully in my arms. The sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

As we packed up our things, I couldn't help but smile. Leona’s first trip to the beach had been everything we had hoped for and more. It was a day filled with laughter, joy, and the simple pleasures of watching our daughter discover the world around her.

We carried a sleeping Leona back to the car, her little face flushed from the sun and her hair still damp from the ocean. As we drove home, I glanced back at her in the rearview mirror, her chest rising and falling gently as she slept.

"She loved it," Drew said, squeezing my hand.

"She did," I agreed, my heart overflowing with love.

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[drewswife]

summary — when you and drew have plans to meet up with the obx cast for game night, but you started to get an headache mid-way there you didn't tell him because you wanted him to have fun

pairing — Actress!drew x fem!reader

a/n — don't mind the summary i SUCK at them also this was requested so thank you anon! (sorry if there any mistakes i didn't edit this :/)

The buzz of excited chatter filled the air as Drew and I walked toward the restaurant. Tonight was the night – a casual game night with the Outer Banks cast. I’d been looking forward to this for weeks. But as we’d been getting ready, a familiar throbbing had started behind my left eye, escalating into the dull ache that signaled a full-blown migraine.

Each step felt like a hammer against my skull, and the restaurant's bright lights were already assaulting my vision. I plastered a smile on my face, hoping Drew wouldn’t notice. He was so excited, and I didn’t want to ruin his fun.

“Excited?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“Definitely,” I lied, my voice a little strained.

We found the group already gathered around a large table, laughter echoing around them. Madelyn, Chase, Rudy, Jonathan, and Madison greeted us warmly. As they launched into a story about something that happened on set, the noise level seemed to amplify, each syllable a painful jab.

I tried to focus on the conversation, nodding and smiling at the right moments, but the throbbing in my head intensified. The smells of the various dishes being brought to the table were starting to make my stomach churn.

Drew, seated beside me, leaned in. “You okay? You seem a little quiet.”

“Yeah, just a little tired,” I mumbled, hoping he’d attribute my lack of enthusiasm to fatigue.

They started setting up a board game, and the atmosphere was light and jovial. I wanted to participate, to laugh along with them, but the pain was becoming unbearable. Colors seemed too bright, sounds too loud. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me.

“I’m just going to step outside for a bit,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “Get some fresh air.”

Drew looked concerned. “Everything alright?” “Yeah, just need a moment,” I insisted, forcing another smile. The cool night air offered a slight reprieve, but the relief was temporary. I leaned against the brick wall outside, closing my eyes, trying to will the pain away.

After a few minutes, the door opened, and Drew stepped out. His brow was furrowed with worry. “Hey, you’ve been out here a while. You don’t look so good.”

My carefully constructed facade crumbled. “I have a migraine,” I admitted, the words barely audible. “It started earlier.” His expression softened immediately. “Oh, baby. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to spoil your night,” I said, my voice thick with the pain I’d been trying to ignore. He gently took my hand. “Your well-being is way more important than a game night. Come on.”

He helped me back inside, quietly explaining to the others that I wasn’t feeling well. They were all incredibly understanding, their playful energy immediately shifting to concern.

Drew helped me gather my things. As we were saying goodbye, Madelyn squeezed my arm. “Feel better soon!”

Outside, walking hand-in-hand, the quiet of the night was a welcome change. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I really was looking forward to tonight.”

Drew stopped and turned to face me, cupping my cheeks in his hands. “Hey, don’t be sorry. We can have plenty of game nights. Right now, let’s get you home so you can rest.”

As we walked, he told me about a new study he’d read about migraine relief techniques, his voice calm and soothing. In that moment, despite the throbbing pain, even though the evening hadn't gone as planned, I knew I had someone who truly cared, and sometimes, that’s all that really matters.

tags, @starrii-sturns @spencerreid66 @chrepsi @drewsstars

[drewswife]

summary: you and your bestie just got from dinner and you met your celebrity crush (Drew Starkey)

warnings: fluff, fangirling, you being a blushing mess

The restaurant buzzed with the low hum of satisfied diners, the clinking of glasses, and the murmur of conversations. You and your bestie, Sarah, were just finishing up a shared plate of molten chocolate lava cake, reminiscing about the disastrous double date Sarah had been on the previous night.

"… and then, get this, he starts talking about his extensive collection of porcelain thimbles!" Sarah exclaimed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. You giggled, shaking your head in amused disbelief. Suddenly, a hush fell over a small section of the restaurant.

You glanced up, noticing a ripple of excitement spreading through the crowd. "What's going on?" you wondered aloud, but Sarah was already craning her neck, eyes wide.

"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's Drew Starkey." Your heart skipped a beat. Drew Starkey. Your celebrity crush. You'd spent countless hours watching his movies, swooning over his interviews, and plastering his pictures on your bedroom wall in high school. You couldn't believe he was in this small, cozy restaurant in Chicago.

You tried to play it cool, casually glancing in his direction. He was even more handsome in person. His smile was dazzling, his eyes sparkled with warmth, and his laughter was infectious. He was sitting with a group of friends, engaged in an animated conversation.

"Let's go over and say hi," Sarah nudged you playfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Are you crazy?" you hissed, blushing furiously. "I can't just go up to him. What would I even say?"

"Just be yourself," Sarah shrugged. "Tell him you're a fan. Compliment his work. Ask for a selfie. You'll regret it if you don't. "You hesitated, your mind racing. On one hand, even briefly, the thought of meeting him was thrilling. On the other hand, you were terrified of coming across as awkward or starstruck. You imagined yourself tripping over your own feet, spilling your drink on him, or worse, babbling incoherently about your undying love. "Come on," Sarah urged, pulling you to your feet. "Let's do this." Before you could protest further, Sarah was leading you towards his table. "Excuse me," she began, her voice surprisingly steady.

He looked up, his eyes meeting yours. You felt your cheeks flush crimson. "Hi," he said, flashing a disarming smile. "We're huge fans," Sarah continued, beaming. "My friend here, Y/N, she's especially obsessed. She's seen all your movies like a million times."

"It's nice to meet you both," he chuckled, his eyes lingering on yours licking his lips. You managed a shy smile, your heart pounding in your chest. "We don't want to disturb you," Sarah said, "but would you mind if we got a quick picture?"

"Of course," he agreed readily. He stood up, towering over you. He smelled amazing, like a mix of sandalwood and something subtly spicy. You felt a flutter in your stomach.

You squeezed between Drew and Sarah, trying to calm your nerves. He put his arm around your waist squeezing you and pulling you closer making you blush, and you could feel the warmth of his touch through your jacket. You held your breath as Sarah snapped a few photos.

"It was lovely meeting you," he said, his eyes meeting yours again winking at you. "Enjoy the rest of your evening." "You too," you whispered, still slightly dazed. As you returned to your table, Sarah was practically bouncing excitedly.

"Oh my god, we just met Drew Starkey!" she squealed. "And he put his arm around you! I'm so jealous! you lucky bitch" You couldn't stop smiling. You couldn't believe it had actually happened.

taglist: @chrislilcumslvt @chrepsi

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws

a/n: was bored lol enjoy!

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[drewswife]

Labor

summary: y/n went into labor and gave birth to her baby girl and Rafe cried for the first time in a while

contains: mentions of childbirth and blood, Rafe and y/n crying

A/n: I hope it is good but thanks for requesting! anon

The gush was sudden, jolting me awake. I scrambled out of bed, heart pounding. It wasn't a leak, a trickle, or even a slow flow. It was a torrent, soaking through my pajamas and pooling on the floor. "Rafe!" I yelled, my voice hoarse with panic.

He stumbled in, sleep still clinging to his eyes. "What? What is it?"

"My water broke!" I gasped, pointing to the growing puddle around my feet. "It's everywhere!"

Rafe's eyes widened. "Oh my god. Okay, okay, stay calm. I'll call the hospital. Did you pack the bag?"

"I think so," I mumbled, already feeling the contractions starting, each one a sharp, insistent wave.

He dialed the hospital, his voice a low rumble of concern. "Yes, she's having contractions now. ... Yes, we're on our way. ... Okay, thank you." He hung up, his gaze fixed on me. "Time to go. Can you walk?"

I nodded, each step a challenge against the growing intensity of the contractions. Rafe rushed around, grabbing the diaper bag, my phone, and a blanket. We raced out the door, locking the house behind us.

The drive to the hospital was a blur. Rafe drove like a madman, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I gripped the seat, moaning through each contraction. The world outside the car windows was a kaleidoscope of flashing lights and blurred buildings.

We arrived at the hospital, breathless and disheveled. The nurses rushed us to a delivery room, their faces a mixture of concern and excitement. They hooked me up to monitors, checked my dilation, and prepared me for the long haul.

Hours passed, each contraction more excruciating than the last. I cried out, my voice raw with pain. Rafe held my hand, his grip steady and reassuring. He whispered words of encouragement, his eyes filled with love and worry.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I felt the urge to push. I strained, my muscles burning, my body shaking. With each push, I felt a surge of hope, a flicker of anticipation.

Then, it happened. A sudden rush of pressure, followed by a feeling of release. I heard a cry, a tiny, mewling sound that filled the room with joy.

"It's a girl!" the nurse announced, handing me my baby.

I looked down at her, my heart overflowing. She was perfect, tiny and pink, with a mop of my dark curls. And rafe blue eyes I brought her to my chest, tears streaming down my face.

Rafe leaned over, his eyes shining with tears. "She's beautiful," he whispered.

“What should we name her” i whispered back

Rafe looked at her for a while “sage”

We spent the next few hours in a haze of euphoria. We marveled at our daughter, her tiny fingers and toes, her delicate features. We took turns holding her, our hearts overflowing with love.

As the hours passed, the initial shock of childbirth gave way to a sense of peace. I looked at Rafe, his face etched with exhaustion but also with an indescribable joy. We had done it. We had brought a new life into the world, together.

The next morning, we were discharged from the hospital. As we walked out the door, hand in hand, I felt a wave of emotion wash over me. We had faced a challenge together, and we had come out stronger, our bond deepened by the shared experience.

We walked down the street, our daughter sleeping peacefully in her car seat. Rafe smiled at me, his eyes twinkling. "We did it," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. We had done it. We had faced the unknown, embraced the pain, and emerged on the other side, changed forever. And as we walked down the street, our hearts filled with love and hope, I knew this was just the beginning of our adventure.

taglist:@chrislilcumslvt @drewstarkeyzwhore

if u wanna be added comment!

[drewswife]

assitant!reader comforting actress!drew before show

(thanks for the request hope u like it!)

He heads backstage, where the chaos of the fashion show is in full swing. Models rush back and forth, makeup artists touch up their faces, and designers fuss over last-minute details. He finds his way to the changing area, where a young assistant hands him his outfit for the show.

As he dresses, he can't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. He's done countless fashion shows, but there's always that thrill of taking the stage, of knowing that people are there to see him. He takes a moment to compose himself, taking slow, deep breaths, and repeating his mantra in his head. 'Fake it 'till you make it'.

Suddenly, the call for the models to start lining up rings out, and the backstage area becomes a buzz of activity. He takes a deep breath, anxiety bubbling in his stomach, his eyes searches for you his assistant he just need some comforting. He looks around around one more time finally meeting your eye

Your eyes lock with his, and you see the flicker of vulnerability beneath the practiced poise. He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod, a silent plea for reassurance. You quickly weave through the throng of people, a calming presence amidst the whirlwind.

"Drew," you say softly, reaching him just as he's about to be swept away by a makeup artist with a powder brush. "You look incredible."

He offers a weak smile, the tension still evident in his shoulders. "Thanks," he murmurs, his eyes darting around the room.

You gently take his hand, the cool touch of your fingers a grounding anchor in the chaos. "Remember what we talked about? You've got this. Just breathe."

You see the tension ease slightly as he focuses on you. "It's just…all these people," he whispers, his voice barely audible above the din. "And the lights… and the pressure…"

"It's okay to be nervous," you reassure him, squeezing his hand. "But you're Drew. You're talented, you're charismatic, and those lights? They're going to make you shine."

You pull a small bottle of lavender oil from your pocket, a trick you’d learned to calm his nerves. "Here," you say, dabbing a bit onto his wrist. "Take a deep breath and smell this. It'll help."

He inhales deeply, the calming scent momentarily filling the space between you. "Thanks," he says, a genuine smile finally breaking through. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'd be amazing," you reply, "but you'd definitely be a lot more stressed." You give his hand one last reassuring squeeze. "Now go out there and show them what you're made of."

The makeup artist gives him a final touch-up, and the stage manager calls his name. He takes one last deep breath, meeting your eyes with a newfound confidence. "For you," he mouths silently, before turning and stepping into the blinding lights.

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws

tags, @drewsstars @spencerreid66 @nemesyaaa

[drewswife]

new fics coming soon!